Gender Dysphoria: How it Feels to Live a Lie

Warnings: This chapter has underage sex between a 15 year old. But then, the other guy is 19, so there isn\'t THAT big of an age difference.
Author\'s note: There is mention of handwritting. Many women under transition have to undergo lots of changes in their life, other than the obvious. Handwritting is only one of them. They practice writting in manuscript and in cursive so it can look more feminine and hence be even more \'passable\' in society.

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Chapter III

*Door opening and slamming shut*

“Gweeeeeeennnniiiee! Wakey, wakey, sleepy-head!” Fire will fall from the sky before I get to sleep on my days off from work.

I groaned for the loud noise of the door slamming and Savannah’s incessant yelling, choosing to cover my head with my pillow and bury myself further under my covers. I had a hangover and it felt like the little Whos from Whoville were banging away at my brain. I heard my friend tip-toe into my bedroom. “Gwen?” She said softly this time.

*Groan*

“You gotta hangover, oh dearest friend of mine?” I felt the mattress dip slightly as she sat beside me.

“Groan*

“Oh I’m sorry.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me. Then she whispered, “Would it make you feel any better if I told you I got laid last night?”

Quicker than a child on a sugar rush, I sat up quickly. My headache was still there, but with my sudden excitement, I didn’t notice it. “You what?!” Savannah simply smiled in answer. Her dimples showing bright and rosy. “Last night?”

“Yep. Ian took me to a club after you left. We danced, I know, til 4 in morning. Then after that, we came back to my place to have a few more drinks. One thing, led to another, and we ended up fucking in my bedroom.”

“He knows what’s going on between your legs?”

“Nope.”

“Then how did you—“

“Everything’s good when you’ve downed a few drinks. Said I was the best he ever had. It also helped that it was doggy-style and the lights were off.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was dumbfounded. NEVER would I have ever fucked a man and not told him what I was. Especially since I haven’t had my surgery yet. I want to live, thank you very much. I’m trying to be more daring and more of the “yes girl” like Savannah had told me millions of times before. But that is too damn daring. That’s on the verge of being a fool. “Where is he now?”

“He left a little while ago. He gave me his number and we made plans to have lunch this upcoming Monday. I don’t know—“ The blonde shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “I may have something here with Ian.”

“You think so?” I asked unsure about the whole thing. I mean, Ok. So she tricked him into thinking he was fucking a vagina instead of an ass. Fine. You tricked him for that night, now move on. I don’t know if I feel comfortable with her getting serious with this clueless guy so suddenly.

“I’m really sure, Gwen. You know, I’m getting the feeling that you’re not comfortable with Ian and I.”

“I’m not.”

“Well why?”

I grabbed my friend’s hand in mine and held it. “It’s just…I don’t know. It could be dangerous.”

“I’m not scared, hon. I’m a big girl.”

“You’re a big ‘boy’, Savannah.” I regretted those words as soon as I said them. Savannah quickly got off the bed and paced the room.

“What are you trying to say, Gwen? I can’t handle my own life? My own relationships?”

“No. I—“

“Well what about you? You’ve got Carlos, why can’t I have Ian?”

“Carlos and my relationship is different. We have limits we don’t cross.”

“YOU have limits you don’t cross. Carlos is two steps away from pouncing on you. I see it in his eyes every time I see you two together.” She finally stopped moving and stood looking me in the eye directly. “How long do you think it will be before Carlos finally makes his move on you? And when he does, what do you expect he’ll find? You don’t know what his reaction would be. I call that ‘dangerous’ as well, don’t you?”

I turned away from her, choosing to stare down at my sheets. She was definitely right. Carlos was getting more fervent about us going all the way and I was still not sure whether or not he was ‘transgender friendly’ or not. Even more important, I wasn’t sure if he would feel comfortable dating a T-girl. “Savannah…I’m sorry. It’s not like I meant to offend you about this. I’m just being protective of you. Overly protective. Other than my brother and sister, you’re the only friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you.”

Suddenly, I saw the brows over my friend’s blue eyes soften and she slowly sat back down next to me with a look of compassion on her face. “You’re…only friend?”

I nodded. “I’ve never even had fake friends.”

Savannah grabbed me into a hug. “Now I feel like an ass. I apologize. My head has been so clouded recently with Ian, I didn’t have enough sense to see your protectiveness over me.” She started to laugh. “And don’t you fret over me, worry-wart. This sexy, blonde, vixen isn’t going anywhere. You’re stuck with me for a long time.”


Savannah stayed for a little while and we ate Eggo waffles and watched videos on MTV, before she left. Alone, I took a quick shower, changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, I plopped back on the couch with a notebook and pen.

I may not have trouble in the looks department as far as passing privileges go, but I’m as butch as you can get with my handwriting. My letters are very sharp, messy, and heavily written. I checked on the internet a while ago in the public library and found out all I needed to know about graphology and what key techniques in writing make you seem more feminine. Genetic women’s script tends to be more rounded, symmetrical, meticulous, and consistent in it’s shape. I guess from all of the years of practicing their handwriting during school classes helped. I wonder why little girls always do that? At one point in their lives, they will spend at least an hour a week on how they want their handwriting to look. Wanna know what’s funny? I spend four.

Over time, I’ve learned to master my manuscript; choosing to make my letters a plain, neat, script, in a large font that’s slightly tilted since I’m a southpaw. My cursive was more of an effort. It looks a bit…..um…..robotic? I don’t quite know what to call it, but it puts you in the mind of a serial killer if that helps you picture it. I’m trying to smooth it out some and not print so hard on the paper, but it’s like I get nervous when I try to write in cursive. Lord knows, don’t let me try to sign my name.

Loosening my grip on the pencil, I lightly pressed down on the paper and started to spell: Gwendolyn Ashley Pillman, in cursive. I had gotten to the “h” in Ashley when I finally decided to scratch those out and try again. At that point, I had put a giant loop in the spine of the “d” where it should’ve simply been a single stem, had no loop in my “y”, “l”, and “h”, and an extra dip was mistakenly made when I wrote my “w”.

“Okay.” I said a bit frustrated. “Let’s try this again.” I ripped out the page and balled it up, tossing it to the side. As I started on a new sheet, my mind began to wander. And for some reason it brought me back to the time when me and Mama drove to her friend’s hotel suite. And I became no longer a virgin…

We had just left from my doctor’s appointment, where I had gotten a prescription from him to start taking my estrogen shots. My viles and syringes packs sat in a blue case in the backseat as we pulled out from the pharmacy and hour and half later. “Where are we going?” I asked Mama, when I noticed we passed our exit that lead us home.

“My friend, Carla, is in town for the weekend. Her husband is away on a business trip, so she decided she and her son would do some visiting while he was gone. She called me earlier today and I promised her I’d stop by.”

I looked at her puzzled. “You we supposed to drop me off at home, so you could go back to work.”

“I’m not going back to work, Junior,” She made a right turn down a ramp. “I took the rest of the day off.”

I remembered what father told us last night before we all went to bed…”You pick him up from school for his dentist appointment, drop him off here, and take your ass back to work, understand? We’ve got too many mouths to feed and we need all the hours we can get.”

“Fathers’ gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“IF he finds out. It’s three o’clock. I’m not going to waste my time and gas on driving you all the way home and coming all the way back for an hour and a half of remaining work. I’m going to spend some time with my friend. Besides, your daddy doesn’t get home until eight anyway. He’ll never know.” I shrugged my shoulders as she pulled into the Radisson Hotel’s parking lot, now looking for an empty space. “You won’t tell him, will you?”

I smiled mischievously. “I don’t know. If the price is right, I won’t.”

“How about we stop at Cold Stone for some ice-cream after we leave?”

“I think that might just work.” I smiled as Mama laughed, smacking my leg playfully.

“You are such a hustler.” She finally found a parking space and pulled in. “Oh and love, don’t say ‘pissed’.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re not old enough to say things like that yet.”

“I’m fifteen, Mama.”

She opened her door and stepped out. “Exactly.”

Together, we walked into the hotel and immediately took the elevator to the 14th floor where the suites were located. She knocked on door 1447. “Who is it?” A male voice asked. Not exactly a full grown man’s voice, but possibly a older adolescent.

“It’s Leigh Pillman.”

A lock sounded then the door opened to a young and very gorgeous man. He wasn’t exactly muscular, more of a petite lean type, but at around 5’10, 5’11 he definitely looked strong. There was nothing “boyish” about him. His hair was a short dirty blonde that was poking out of his blue knitted cap with matching whiskers on his chin. His skin had a very slight tan to it and the smile he gave us was flawless. He wore a worn-in green vintage t-shirt, raggedy jeans, and leather flip-flops. I also noticed he wore a tattoo of a dragon on his forearm. “Hello!” he said cheerfully. “We’ve been expecting you. My mother wont stop talking about you. She’s been waiting for you all day.”

Mama smiled. “I’m sure. It’s been years.” She stopped suddenly and studied the young man curiously. “You said, ‘mother’. My God….Peter?” The young man in question smiled and nodded. “Goodness gracious! It’s been years! Look at you, you’re all grown up! Come here, you!” Mama grabbed him up into a hug. When she did, I noticed his eyes go wide in surprise. I’ve had that look too. When Mama is really excited about something, her hugs become two times as tight. But at the same time, two times as filled with love.

“Come inside.”

We followed Peter inside the suite and he yelled for his mother, saying simply, “She’s here!” Brisk footsteps, that sounded like women’s heels, came soon after. A woman with short cut dirty blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, showed up from the back. She wore a beautiful red/yellow/orange flower sundress and stunning red sandals. With two women, of any age, who haven’t seen each other in over a decade get together, you know what happens next.

**SCREAM**

I stood there with my eyes wide open as the two ladies hugged and bounced. They both started complementing each other on how they looked, remarked on how long it had been, and chatted about what they had been up to at the same time, I really doubt they actually heard what the other was saying. But then, I could’ve been wrong.

“And who is this delightful little flower right here?” Carla asked.

Mama put her arm around my shoulders. At fifteen, I was still shorter than her. “This is George Junior. We call him, Georgie.”

Carla put a delicate hand on her breast. “Well, my…..the last time I saw you, you had trouble keeping your pampers on.” I blushed crimson. The mothers laughed. “Isn’t he precious? He looks just like you, Leigh. Cute as a button, isn’t he Peter?”

I looked at Peter and watched him slowly smile at me as he looked me up and down. Though I was young then, I could notice a “check out” when I saw it. “He sure is.” He winked.

Carla walked into the small livingroom area of the suite. “Ya’ll come and have a seat.” The mothers sat together on the couch and the offspring sat in opposite arm chairs.

Conversation was pretty back and forth between the two long time friends. We were there for over an hour before Carla spoke, “Is Hunter’s Green still here?”

Mama nodded. “Still on the corner of Bateman and York Street.”

Carla moaned. “Man, I haven’t had a good peach smoothie since I left here. Are they still a dollar.”

“They’d better be. Otherwise, I’m going to stop buying one every week.”

“We have got to go there. I’m dying for one.”

Mama stood up. “Then lets go.” She said eager. Then she looked over at me. I was still sitting in my chair quiet. “Junior, honey, you’ll be okay here with Peter, wont you? We’ll only be gone for an hour or so.”

“Sure.”

“Good.” She bent down and kissed me on my cheek. “I’ll be back soon, hon.”

As they walked to the front door of the suite, Carla said to her son, “Peter, be a good host to our guest now.”

I looked toward Peter again and he was smiling at me, again. “I will, Mom.” He said as they left.

Now that my mom was gone, my comfort level with Peter had dropped tremendously. His looks were more than friendly, my eyes weren’t the only thing he was staring at, and his smile was in no way innocent. “What?”

“I was just wondering if you really act like that?”

“Act like what?”

“You know….girly?”

“I act girly?” I asked defensively.

Peter caught my changed expression and held up his hands. “Don’t get defensive on me. I’m just asking cause not all boys I see sit, act, and talk the way you do.”

“Well, this is the way I am.”

Peter smiled again. I wanted to hate that cocky, flirtatious smile, but I couldn’t. the smile was too stimulating and adorable to hate. The smile was also contagious, cause I smiled back. “Good enough then. Got a boyfriend?”

My smile dropped at the sudden subject change. “A what?”

“You’re gay, right? Because forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem like the type that drags around a girlfriend. YOU seem more like the one that gets dragged around.”

“Who I’m attracted to is none of your business, Peter.”

“I take that as a firm ‘yes’ then.” I rolled my eyes. “So do you?”

“No.”

“Do you want one?”

“No.”

Peter’s blue eyes narrowed seductively. “Ah. So you’re only into temporaries. One night stands. Casual sex.”

“No.”

The blonde frowned. “What are you, a monk?” He noticed my eyes suddenly diverting to my now nervously shaking hands. “Have you ever HAD sex?”

“…”

He nodded in understanding. “Kid, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

My head popped up. “I’m not a kid.”

Peter slowly got up from his chair and walked across the room to where I was sitting. “No. You’re not. Which means you’re old enough to learn.” He held out a strong hand to me.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about turning that sweet, naïve seed of yours into a beautiful blossom, Cinderella.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. “You mean, you want to…to…”

Peter pulled me up and kissed me. “Yes, I do. Come on.” The cute blonde escorted me to one of the suite’s bedrooms and shut the door behind us.

I looked around the room while Peter walked over to the windows and pulled the blinds shut. “I guess this is your room?”

“Until 11:00 a.m. Sunday morning, it is.” He gestured towards me. “Come over here.” Apprehensively, I walked to him and stood there. I just reached his nose in height, but I refused to look up and see his eyes. Intoxicating crystal blue eyes. I felt that if I didn’t look into them, I wouldn’t be put under his spell. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on my side. He lifted my chin with a finger and I stared into those ocean blue orbs immersed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Peter. Our moms will be back soon.”

Peter chuckled. “Didn’t you know that when women say they will be back soon, you have to add on an additional hour to the allotted time?” He got serious. “Don’t think that you need to form any obligations towards me after this, Georgie. This is just sex. There are no ties to keep you with me. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Wrapping my arms closely around his neck, Peter started to kiss me slowly, sliding his tongue into my mouth in a gentle massage against my own. Not knowing I did it, my hand held the back of his head and slid the blue knitted cap off his head and to the floor, revealing slightly long, dirty blonde tresses. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I’d never pressed myself up this close to someone before in all my life –not unless you count the times Mama would give one of her monster hugs—let alone have I ever kissed anyone. Peter was pretty much doing all the work, I just gave minor responses with a little flick of my tongue here and a suck on his lower lip there.

I gasped for air, when the blonde finally pulled away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he grazed his lips down the side of my neck then rested them directly above a vein. “Can’t officially be called an experienced lover until you carry the stamp of approval.” He licked my skin then started to suck. I sighed deeply as I held the back of his head close to me, tilting my head to the side, urging him on. But then I remembered my father would beat me until pigs started to fly if he ever saw it. I pushed him away. “What is it?” he asked.

“My parents. My father would kill me if he saw that on my neck.”

Peter smiled again. “Is that all? Well, we can put your stamp somewhere else then. That’s not a problem.” He drawled.

Okay. Call me extremely naïve, but back then I thought the only place you could get a hickey was on your neck. Of course, I realize now the neck is only the traditional place.

“Lift up your arms.” I did, and Peter pulled my red polo shirt over my head, dropping it carelessly. His hands immediately went all over me. “Such a soft, little body you have. Like a baby’s bottom. Do you bruise easily, Georgie?”

“Yeah.” Unfortunately.

“I guess I’m going to have to be gentle with you then.” I sucked in air as he ran his tongue slowly over one nipple then the other. He kissed a lovely trail down my torso to the waistband of my khaki shorts. There, he kneeled down and started to unbuckle my black leather belt. Once opened, he quickly jerked the belt through my short’s loops. I jumped when I heard a ‘thunk’ noise.

“What was that?”

“It’s just the hotel’s air conditioner turning on. Relax, Georgie. You can’t enjoy this if you don’t relax.”

“Okay. Okay.”

I tried to keep my nervous shivers to a minimum while Peter pulled my shorts and underwear down. I was very shy about my body –I’m sure by now you know why—and was blushing crimson when ‘all of me’ was revealed to Peter’s eyes. “Now lets see. Where should I stamp you? Here maybe?” he kissed my knee cap. “How about here?” He kissed my inner thigh and I giggled. I was very ticklish there. “Here?” He kissed my tummy, with a flick of his tongue in my bellybutton that made me shiver. “I know. I’ll do it here.” With the tip of his tongue, Peter grazed the thin skin of my lower hip; the junction between my thigh and pelvis. I moaned and grabbed his hair when he finally started to suck on my skin.

When a mark grew big enough to Peter’s liking, he stood back up. By then, my breathing had started to come short. Laying me on the bed, Peter removed his green shirt, revealing a toned strong chest, a track of dark blonde hair led from his bellybutton down under his jeans. With eyes wondrously focused on that image, I came up on another tattoo. It was a drawing of a black panther stretched out long alongside his torso. Looking me in my eyes, he stripped off his jeans and white boxers, crawling on the bed to lay directly overtop of me. With a kiss, he said, “We need to prep you first.”

Prep me? What did I need to be prepped for?

Peter reached under his pillow and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. Pouring a nice amount in one palm, he rubbed both hands together and stroked my growing erection with one hand and circled my anus with the other. “Oh my…..Oh…” I couldn’t form any words.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it? All this warmth against that cool skin of yours.” He started to stroke me faster. “You starting to feel your own warmth heating up, Georgie?” I began to pant. “Your body loosening up for me—“ One well greased finger slipped inside me and I moaned. “Adjusting itself for the welcoming of my cock.” He slipped another inside. “You feel the warmth, yet?” Unable to further control my body, my hips jerked, pumping my hard-on between Peter’s hand.

It felt so damn good, I actually whimpered when he let go of me. “Easy does it, Cinderella. I’m coming for you.” He poured more lube into one hand and began to jerk himself. “Spread those smooth legs of yours for me. Nice and wide now.” Obeying, I opened my legs in a type of ‘spread-eagle’ position.

Finally ready, Peter laid on top of my hot and bothered body, one hand was guiding the tip of his prick to my entrance. Looking me deep into my eyes, he whispered, “Breathe deeply.” When I started to draw in a long breath, I could feel Peter pushing his erection inside me and my breaths became shaky. As I closed my eyes and gripped his back, I could hear him groan. “Ah yes, baby.”

I enjoyed the sex. A LOT. Squeezing my thighs tightly into his waist, lifting my hips to meet his delectable thrusts, I was in ‘First-Timer’s Heaven’. But I couldn’t make a sound. Sure, I made small noises and gasped a bit, but nothing that qualified as an actual sexual moan or groan. I guess after years and years of having to deal with my father’s thrashings that included, “You’d better shut that mouth up before I beat your ass again!” pretty much embedded in me an instinct to keep any outbursts I may have—pleasurable or painful—to my damn self. But Peter liked communication during sex. He wasn’t going to accept that.

“You’re not trying to keep quiet, are you?” he whispered in my ear, his hips still pumping strongly. I just kept my eyes closed and mouth shut. At the moment, I didn’t know a lick of English. “You’re not gonna talk to me? Come on, sing for me, baby.” He angled his thrusts and back then, I didn’t know what he hit, but he hit something and it made me bonkers.

“Ah!”

“That’s it. That’s what I want to hear. Give it to me, Georgie. Let me hear that sweet voice.”

“Ah! Ah! Oh! Oh God!” I yelled, tears coming down my face as he kept stroking against this then unknown area of my body.

Peter groaned as he gained speed. My yells never stopping and his pants getting louder by the second.

Over an hour had passed and my body couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to come and come hard. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, all my limbs suddenly tightened around Peter and I moaned as I gave uncontrollable spasms during my orgasm.

“Shit!” Peter yelled as he followed soon after, slamming into me one last time. I could feel him spilling himself inside me and after that moment, I knew I could no longer stay celibate the rest of my life.