Junior Year ~ Part 2

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Momma looks at me, concerned, and says, “Maybe Angi is right, Love. Maybe a private school IS a better solution…”

I shake my head. If this whole affair has done nothing, it has taught me to stand my ground. I say, “Momma, think about it…do you REALLY think there aren’t bigots and bullies at private schools? All that will happen is that it will be covered up that I’m ‘TG’—then I have to ALWAYS worry that that will somehow be discovered.”

I sigh and continue, “I’d MUCH rather that it’s out in the open… It really isn’t ANY different from my ‘options’ for transitioning… A ‘real’ girl has no choice in her genes and gender… Neither does a TG girl…and that doesn’t change at public school. If OTHER TG girls have to attend public school and survive, then so will I.”

Momma shakes her head and says, “DAMN your father to HELL!” Then she stops and cries… She says, “You know I didn’t mean that…but…you have SO many of his traits… His IDEALISM… No wonder you hate what we’re doing to Misty…”

Angi comes over and hugs her. Momma continues and says, “OK. I trust you, Love—BUT, I WILL yank you out of there if you’re harmed in any way. Understand?”

I nod and say, “Yes, Momma. But please let ME say when it’s too much. I PROMISE I will, OK?”

Momma closes her eyes and slowly nods…

Angi says, “I LOVE you BOTH so much! This is such a perfect moment… I had planned on this being TOTALLY different…”

I look at her…and KNOW… I suck in a HUGE gulp of air and suppress a scream…

Momma looks at her—totally ignorant…

Angi goes to her purse and digs in it…then comes over to Momma and gets on her knee. She holds out the little velvet box with the HUGE two carat ring and asks, “Dawn, Love of my life. As your daughter is our witness, will you marry me?”

Momma nearly faints and looks at me…the question clearly evident on her face (is it OK?)…

I nod and whisper, “I already gave ‘Mummy’ my blessing…”

Momma almost giggles at that and looks deep into Angi’s eyes and says, “As OUR daughter is our witness, YES, I would LOVE to become your wife!”

Now I DO scream!

‘Mummy’ puts the ring on Momma’s finger and we ALL cry. Angi gets a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator. She takes out THREE glasses and pops the cork. She pours two glasses full and looks at Momma, who nods, and she pours the third about half full.

We each take one (mine is one of the FULL ones, of course—JUST KIDDING) and we clink them with a loud ‘CHEERS’! We take a sip and I grimace at the effervescent flavor of…vinegar. We then hug and Angi says, “You don’t know HOW nervous I was about this, LOVE! If it wasn’t for Paige, I may not have had the nerve…”

Momma looks at me and asks, “You really ARE OK with this, aren’t you?”

I nod and say, “Momma—Angi, or ‘Mummy’ as I’m now to call her, is a GREAT catch—and your happiness is paramount to me. OF COURSE, I’m OK with it!”

Angi chokes on her champagne as I let out the ‘Mummy’ joke… Of course, NOW, it is official… She says, “Dawn, Love, I would NEVER have asked without her blessing…”

Momma kisses me on the cheek and says, “I love you, my dearest daughter.” She looks at ‘Mummy’ and says, “And, OF COURSE, I LOVE you… NOW, I just have to get YOU a ring!”

Mummy says, “Well…” She grins and pulls out a matching ring and says, “Assuming you like it?”

Momma laughs and says, “Love it? I ADORE it!” And she places it on Mummy’s finger.

I finish my half-glass of champagne—after adding a bunch of orange juice—and leave the two love-birds alone. I go to my room and text a picture of the rings to Francie. Of course, it takes less than thirty seconds before my phone is ringing and I am telling her ALL about my day…

o~O~o

I turn off my alarm and stretch. I hate having to get up at five a.m. on one of my last days of vacation-but I need to go into the office with Angi for some more tests…

I reflect on that a minute and grin—let me rectify that statement… I need to go into the office with MUMMY for some more tests…

I get out from under the covers and pad my way into the bathroom. If there’s any ONE thing that I think I would gripe MOST about being a ‘girl’, it’s having to get up an hour earlier to get ready…well, I guess I should amend THAT too… It’s what I would gripe most about being a PINK girl about…

I turn on the shower and let the water warm up to nice steamy proportions…I get in a still marvel at WONDERFUL the shower feels now.

A little under an hour later, I give myself a final check in the mirror and am satisfied that my Pink peeps would be proud. I step into my five-inch stilettos and go downstairs for a quick breakfast.

I enter the kitchen and I almost jump out of my skin when I hear, “Good morning, Miss.”

I look around and mumble, “Good morning, Misty. You’re up early.” I can’t help but notice that he is wearing women’s dress pants and shoes—sure, you have to know to look…but, then, I do…

He says, “Yes, Miss. Excuse me, Miss.”

I say, “Have a great day, Misty…” But he has already turned and was on his way out the back door—just as Angi comes in.

She says, “Well, you beat me down here! Who were you talking to?”

I giggle and say, “Well, I didn’t drink two bottles of champagne!” I point to the two empty bottles on the counter. I shrug and say, “Misty was in here… I’m not sure why… He nearly scared me to death!”

Angi smiles and says, “Your Momma is giving him some extra duties around the house… Anyway, why don’t we stop at Starbuck’s on the way and get breakfast to go?”

I shrug again and say, “Fine by me…”

Angi looks at my shoes and smiles. She says, “Well, you’re certainly giving yourself a challenge this morning.”

I look at her, confused. I ask, “Challenge? Five inch heels haven’t been a challenge for WEEKS, now…”

Angi leads the way to the garage as I grab my purse. We go to her Porsche and she hands me the keys and says, “But, you haven’t DRIVEN in them yet… I suggest you take them off until you get the hang of shifting… Please leave my clutch in one piece!”

I look at her with a mixture of excitement and fear. I ask, “I’m driving?”

She laughs and says, “You’re not going to learn any younger. Now…let’s go—I need COFFEE!”

I get into the driver’s seat and adjust things—after taking my shoes off and checking that I can reach the pedals in my stockinged feet. She makes me go through the gears several times with the car off—just to get the hang of them. Then she has me push the clutch and start the car.

Nervous as I think I have EVER been, I manage to get the car into reverse and back out of the garage without hitting anything. I take a deep breath, push in the clutch and put it into first—and take off, shifting up as I gain speed without grinding any gears. I have the BIGGEST grin on my face…

I don’t make it ALL the way to her office without ONE (small) grind (which happened to be as I’m pulling out of the drive-through at Starbuck’s). Once I pull into her parking space and switch off the ignition, I look over at her, expecting a berating for the grind.

She reaches over and hugs me and says, “Perfect! THAT was awesome, young lady! You paid attention to the road and did MUCH better than I did my first actual time driving a manual. Don’t let it go to your head, though. OK? You still need LOTS of practice!”

She giggles as I put my shoes back on and says, “Now, driving home, you’ll leave those ON!”

We get out of the car and she hands me my coffee. We walk into her office and sit at her conference table to eat our breakfast and she says, “OK, Paige. I know you took this once before and you know the answers… What I would like for you to do is take it twice again… The first time, answer honestly—as you are today. Don’t overthink the questions—just put down your first instinct; your most honest answer. Then, I want you to take it again. I’ll give you instructions before you do so, OK?”

I nod, confused, and she leaves me alone in her office to take that ill-fated ‘exam’ I had taken so long ago to ‘gain entrance’ into camp. Of course, now I know what it really is—a psychological profiling questionnaire to see where one is on the LGBT spectrum.

I take a deep breath and clear my mind the best I can of all the baggage I have associated with this particular set of questions and answer them as honestly as I can.

Just as I am finishing up twenty minutes later, Angi comes back in and smiles. She says, “Done? OK, may I please have your answer sheet? Thanks, Hon! Now, I would like for you to reach back and think about being Vick again—BEFORE any of this happened. Try and channel his thoughts and answer. Can you do that?”

I look at her a little surprised and say, “Well, I can try—it’s not like we’re separate people, though…”

She smiles and says, “I know, Love. Just do your best—if you answer the same as just now, that’s perfectly fine. If you think you WOULD have answered differently, then please do so. Again, don’t OVER think it—there is no right or wrong, here. It’s just…well, I’m interested… Is that OK?”

I nod and say as I see her ring sparkle in the bright overhead light, “Sure… I’ll give it my best try…MUMMY!”

She play slaps my arm and leaves me alone again.

I sit there and think back to a time in my life that seems almost surreal now. I try and peel back all of the layers of ‘Pink’ that have been ingrained into me and start answering the questions the best I can…

Thirty minutes later she comes back in and I finish up the last two questions. I hand her the answer sheet with tears welling in my eyes. She gives me a big hug and says, “I know that was hard, Hon—and it dredged up a bunch of suppressed feelings. I need those out. You’re about to start school as a GIRL and a TG one, at that. We need you to be able to handle those feelings internally before you really get hit with the inevitable external factors. Mrs. Duffus is just the beginning I’m sorry to say…”

I nod and carefully wipe the tears with a tissue from the dispenser on the table. I excuse myself to ‘check my makeup’ in the bathroom mirror as an excuse to give myself a few minutes to gather myself.

When I get back to Angi’s office she is just finishing scoring the last go-through. She looks up at me and gives me an encouraging smile. She says, “Are you interested in the results, Hon, or have you had enough for one day?”

I take a deep breath and say, “I’m fine. I’m pretty sure I answered at least some of the questions differently…”

Angi nods and says, “When I scored your first go-through…the one where I asked you to just answer without thinking, you actually scored a 535, which, were you taking this for the first time, would get you into Pink House. This is an interesting result for me and gives me some things to work on to further tweak the questionnaire, since we know that you’re not TG in the actual sense of the term—you ARE, however, transitioning mentally to a girl; that much is clear. Now, the ‘pinkness’ of the score is likely largely due to your ‘conditioning’ in camp…”

I look at her with a blank look.

She giggles and says, “I’m sorry, Love. This basically tells me, given the fact that I know YOU, that you’re adjusting well to becoming to a girl—even though it wasn’t really a need or desire of yours. Does that make sense?”

I nod and say, “I think so.”

She says, “Good. Now for the really interesting part. Of course this is retrospective and somewhat prone to recall bias… But, it seems that you were actually very comfortable with your feminine side, even as Vick. Your score indicates that you were basically right in the middle of male and female. That explains a lot in terms of how you’re able to handle this with so much…grace and poise. It isn’t completely against your nature.”

I give her another blank look and this time she laughs. She says, “It means that I’m not SO worried about your mental well-being as I was. You are one of those people that, at their core, don’t really CARE about gender…”

I giggle and say, “Well, I could have told you not to worry… But, if this helps…”

She smiles and says, “I didn’t say I was NOT worried…just not AS much. You still warrant a lot of love and help in your transition, young lady! And I’m not going anywhere!” She glances at her ring and grins widely.

I laugh and say, “If you say so, MUMMY!”

After that, I help around the office doing a variety of small jobs until it is time for lunch and Angi lets me drive us to a nearby favorite restaurant of hers where we meet up with Momma. After we finish, Angi lets me drive home (without any MAJOR incidents, in spite of wearing the heels) where she leaves me to enjoy the rest of the day and drives herself back to the office.

I decide to just chill out by the pool and catch up on some reading. I go up to my room and get undressed and put my clothes neatly away in my closet. As I do, I catch sight of myself in the antique full-length mirror in my room. I stop what I am doing and stare. It still surprises me at some level to see myself now.

I look at my naked ‘vagina’ and memories of last week flood my brain. It was the first time the device had been removed for ‘hygiene purposes and repositioning’. I had been floored at the time (at the end of camp) I found out that those laser treatments that Jemma had been giving me were actually permanently ensuring that I would not have ANY body hair. Imagine my surprise when I also found out that the device has special chemical properties to it that achieves the same results. The hair follicles under the device are effectively dead—ensuring that I will have a permanent ‘Brazilian’ look.

Worse than the hairlessness that I unexpectedly had encountered under the device was the sorry nature my actual organs were in. My testicles are now, thanks to the effects of the implant, permanently up inside me…swollen to the point that they can’t descend anymore—even if the ligaments (or whatever it is—I zoned out at the technical terms) that are holding them hadn’t shortened so much by now that they weren’t being pulled back up into my abdomen to an area close to where they would sit as ovaries.

On top of that, my penis is just a small shriveled piece of flesh that is happy to just flop backwards between my legs and be held there by the device. There was no doubt when I saw the effects of several months of aromatase augmentation that there is no turning them back. I’m in it for better or worse—just as Angi had warned me.

My eyes float up my body to my breasts. They are showing similar development. I am now officially a B-cup (and yes, I finally know what all of that means…). My areolae are still growing, but are larger than a quarter, darker, and developing small bumps on them. My nipples are about the size of mini marshmallows and OH so sensitive—especially with the little silicone suction cups on them that Francie got me…

I look down at my legs and decide that they are really getting sexy and I am actually proud of them. The combination of dancing, cheerleading, and swimming is doing them wonders—long, smooth, and deliciously tanned (not to mention nicely toned). The same goes for my whole body, actually. There is no doubt that I am a developing girl—one that is quickly catching up to her fifteen-year-old counterparts…

I search my feelings and decide that I really DON’T mind the fact that I’m turning into a young woman instead of a man. Yes, I HAD been looking forward to being Vick—the football star. But, I don’t really mind turning into Paige—the ballerina. I guess I AM weird, after all…

I shake my head and pull myself out of my reverie and put on my bikini. I grab my lotion, stack of teen fashion magazines, and the romance novel that Francie got me hooked on and go out to lay by the pool and enjoy the afternoon.

o~O~o

The rest of my last week off before my junior year of high school is over before I know it. A lot of my time is spent swimming (as in actually practicing) and keeping up with my cheerleading moves. Most of it is spent practicing my ballet. Madame Pratt certainly will have no mercy if I come back to class after break and have not kept up my flexibility.

It is Sunday and one of those rare occasions where EVERYONE is home – including Francie (but just for the day *SIGH*)!

Francie and I are out by the pool with Mummy, relaxing. Momma comes up from the guesthouse with Misty in tow. I look at him and once again notice that he is wearing women’s slacks and shoes. Again, it isn’t overtly noticeable—it’s just enough ‘off’ to make you look, though. The pants are just a tad bit short and if you really look, you can tell that he is wearing black nylon stockings instead of socks. The short-sleeved shirt is obviously a woman’s blouse—it even has a bit of lace on it. The shoes have a bit of a heel—just enough that they aren’t ‘quite right’ for a man.

Momma says, “Hi gals! Misty here has asked for some extra hours. It seems that the money just isn’t quite stretching enough to make ends meet. So he is going to do some housework and fetch us drinks and such. Isn’t that right, Misty?”

He says, “Yes, Mistress.”

He goes into the house and I notice his hairless arms as he does. He returns with a cart full of drinks and hands me the lemonade I ask for; I notice his perfectly manicured and polished nails—they are just a ‘tad’ too long—and slightly pinker than is natural. I also notice that his eyebrows are still perfectly shaped into the thin, high arch he has had since he came that day and signed the contract.

I say, “Thank you, Misty.”

He responds, “Yes, Miss,” and moves on to get Francie her drink. Once all are served, he goes into the house to clean. As he does, I notice he has a ‘wiggle’ to his walk—which makes me realize that another thing that had seemed ‘off’ is that he is flat up front…

I look at Momma and she shrugs, “He just can’t seem to manage his money…”

I say, “What’s with the wiggle in his step and the flat front—not to mention all of the other ‘off’ things?”

Angi says, “Now, Love. Don’t be making fun of the help. He just begged to be put in chastity, which gives him that nice flat look. As for the rest, well, let’s just say, it’s to make up for some behavioral issues. He’s getting better, though, don’t you think? We just might make a human being out of him yet. Now, let’s talk about less-depressing things!”

I shake my head; I’m sure I don’t want to know!

Francie leans over and whispers in my ear, “I bet that wiggle is caused by a butt plug… I know a guy at Juilliard that wears one to get that same wiggle…”

I roll my eyes and whisper back, “Well, I guess I DID ask… But…EWWWWWWE!”

She giggles and we turn back to the conversation at hand.

The day goes by WAY too quickly, though. Before I know it, Francie is getting ready to leave and I’m giving her a SERIOUS kiss.

Breathless, she says, “I will see you in two weeks, Love! Be good in school—and don’t let them get you down, OK?”

I nod and bite my lip. I say, “Yeah…I’m not sure how easy THAT’S going to be, but I’m certainly going to do my best!”

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Comments

Nice

jennifer breanna's picture

Paige is turning out to be a very admirable person. I hope that people being unthinking bigots dosn't jade her too much.

She's pretty tough...

She should be OK--not to say there won't be slumps... :)

HUGS!

Nice

jennifer breanna's picture

BTW I am really enjoying the story thanks for sharing it.

Thanks!

I'm glad you like it! I really appreciate the kudos!

HUGS!

I'm guessing here, but I feel

I'm guessing here, but I feel Paige just may have more support at the school than she realizes, and not only because of her momma and mummy, but also a teacher or two and just possibly a few of the girls after they discover she is a very good gymnast, cheerleader and swimmer.

Reap what you sew

Jamie Lee's picture

Paige is going to gather a group around her at school who want to be around her just because of her attitude.

She also going to be the target of those who "know" right from wrong. But are blind to the wrongness of their own actions. And yet, she contains a resolve which makes her a very strong individual.

Misty no longer seems to be that manipulative SOB he once was. She seems to have accepted that he no longer exists.

Others have feelings too.

Don't count Misty out, yet...

I'm just keeping her a bit low profile...since her story is not one that is typical for this site. Maybe I will do her story at some point as a separate feature...

HUGS!