Diary of a Dysfunctional Teen

My name, is Katsuya Takehito. I am sixteen years old, and a sophomore in high school. I currently live in a nice loft in a good part of town with my husband, yes husband, even though I am male. Seeing as how it is late, and I have to write a stupid journal entry for class about my life, I suppose this will have to do. It's best to do this now anytime while my husband is taking a nap, which means I will be able to work in peace.

Well, here goes:

Once, when I was little. My parents had a huge fight. At the time, I wasn't quite sure just what the fight was about, only knowing that in the end, my mother cried and my father left. Two days later, my mom and I moved. It wasn't until years later that I discovered just what the fight had been about. And even to this day I still don't quite understand it.

The reason my father had left my mother was because he was gay.

It came as quite a shock to my mother I guess. Ten years of marriage, and then suddenly my dad decides that he wants to up and leave his family for some guy. Of course, that guy had been a close friend of my parents, though I guess he was even closer to my dad than either of us had thought.

I guess, it was because of what happened between my mom and dad, that I started to hate guys. Which was kind of weird, seeing as how I was a guy. Though I guess in a way I hated myself too. I hated when my mom would look at me, knowing that she only saw a little mini version of my father. Sometimes I would hear her crying at night, though I learned not to try and comfort her. She only cried when she was drunk, and when she was drunk, she beat me because I looked like my father.

On my thirteenth birthday, my mother and I moved again. This time to a small house in what was supposed to be a good neighborhood. Mom had found someone new, and everything was supposed to be going good. Although, what was strange was that the person my mother found new, was another woman.

So now I was the child of a gay father, and a lesbian mother. I suppose it was something I should have felt weirded out by, but at that point it did not matter to me anymore. Because I ended up in what I would suppose was a fucked up relationship myself.

I met my special person the first day of school. Her name was Amano, at least that's what she said her name was. Though at the time, I had thought that she was a "˜he'. And if you had seen her, you would have thought the same thing. She was flat-chested, and had short black hair that just barely reached her shoulders. She was dressed like a boy, and acted like one too. Of course, she did walkwalk around grabbing herself, or any of those other stereotypical things that a guy supposedly did. She just, wasn't like the other girls.

A few inches taller than me, she basically became my own private tormentor and savior. True she protected me from the other guys who seemed to like to pick on me for being short and girly looking; though she seemed to have no problem pushing me around and teasing me about it. Anywhere I went, she wasn't too far behind. If I went to the bathroom, she was waiting right outside the door for me.

Of course, it had not taken me long to figure out she was a girl, seeing as how she went to a different bathroom than me. Though I always found it hard to think of her as a girl. Even during school I would call her "˜Sempai', and she would call me "˜Katsu-chan'. Of course, I would get pissed off whenever she called me "˜chibi.' It wasn't my fault that I was short.

Later on in school, Amano changed from "˜Sempai' to "˜Aniki', because basically she was the older brother that I had always wanted, but would never have. For months I kept my friendship to Amano a secret from my mother and father, who had just come back to speaking terms. Though after being pestered by Amano about it, I finally decided to let her meet one of the people in my "˜parental unit'.

So I chose my mother, thinking that because she was a woman, she would be better excepting of Amano.

I was wrong.

The whole meeting went to hell the moment my mother answered the door. She hated Amano because somehow Amano reminded her of my father, and Amano hated my mother because according to Amano, my mother was a bitch. My moth gir girlfriend had not seemed too upset by Amano, although I had heard her muttering about how weird a person Amano was, and that she didn't really believe Amano was a girl.

The meeting between Amano and my father had went some what better than that of the meeting with my mother. Mostly because my father and his boyfriend thought Amano was a boy. When I told them Amano was a girl, I quickly learned that my father's boyfriend was one of those men who seemed to think that being gay also meant hating everything female. Anyway, long story short: Amano and my father's boyfriend got into a shouting match, I got hit by Amano for giving away her "˜secret', and we both got kicked out of my father's house.

Though at least after that I didn't have to worry about Amano worrying me about seeing my parents. In fact, she never wanted anything to do with my parents ever again. The meeting between me and her parents went pretty well. They seemed pretty nice and normal people, considering their daughter was a girl who was practically living life as a boy.

I wished that Amano's parents had been mine.

I'm not quite sure just what pushed us past the friendship stage, into the boyfriend/girlfriend"¦ well in our case it was more like boyfriend/girlfriend-who-will-consider-herself-the-boyfriend-and-god-forbid-you-try-and-think-differently, stage. All I remember was one day spending the night at Amano's, wearing some pajama set she'd brought me. She was always buying me things. And getting ready to go to sleep when suddenly she just jumped on me.

Well, she didn't exactly jump on me, more like wait until I was nearly asleep and then crawl on top of me and wake me up by kissing me. I think I was thirteen at the time, Amano was sixteen. She always had loved shoving our age difference up in my face. Later on, she used our different ages as an excuse for being on top.

But anyway, to tell the truth, the thought of being kissed by a girl had scared the hell out of me. Though it wasn't just the fact that it was a girl, it was because I was being kissed by a girl whom was like a brother to me. And even at sixteen, Amano still looked quite boyish. She was still flat-chested, which I later found out becabecause of drugs she'd been taking, and she still acted like a boy, even dressing like one.

Though what had scared me that night, was that while kissing me, I'd felt her. The whole time she'd been kissing me and groping me, she'd been hard! And even I, with as much as I thought of her as a boy, knew that girls did not have anything between their legs that would become hard.

For nearly a month I avoided Amano, who at the same time was basically avoiding me too. Soon, I'd started to get angry at Amano for avoiding me, which was stupid at the time, seeing as how I had been the one avoiding her. And even though I knew it was wrong of me, I started spreading rumors. I begin to tell people that Amano was a freak who had both parts, and did a lot of other nasty things that I really regret doing now.

For nearly the entire school year Amano went through hell. Hell that I had caused. She was teased, beaten up, and shunned. There had even been rumors of her being raped. And through it all I suffered. Each time I saw her in class, or walking down the hallway, I wanted to go to her. But each time I would even look at her she'd just glare at me and walk away. Once when I tried to talk to her in class she had punched me in the face.

It was a couple of days after my fourteenth birthday that I learned the rumor about Amano being raped had not been a rumor. That she had actually been raped. The boys who had done it begin to put up pictures of Amano bound to a bed. I can still remember the look on Amano's face when she saw the pictures of her posted up. It was the first time in my life that I had seen Amano cry. Though, at the same time my curiosity about Amano's true gender had been solved.

The same thing that was between my legs, was not between her legs. She was just as normal as any other girl. At the time, I had been relieved, yet sickened.

Six weeks passed and still Amano had not come to school. It wasn't until I heard the rumor about Amano committing suicide that I decided to go and see her. I waited until night, climbing up the tree that was on the side of her house and sneaking into her window. I was surprised that she still left it unlocked for me.

What I saw, to this day still shocked me. Amano had been standing in front of her dresser, staring at herself in the mirror. Her back was turned to me, but even then I'd known that she knew I was there. Even from where I had been standing I could tell that something was different about her. I don't know if I was imagining it, but she just felt, well almost evil. It had been enough to stop me in my tracks.

I can't really remember just what words had been spoken. All I knew was that I had begged her to forgive me, and then the next thing I knew, I was being thrown to her bed. Amano had always been stronger than me, and she still is stronger than me to my day, I'm man enough to admit that.

That night, Amano proved to me just how much of a man she was, and just how much about her had changed.

The memory of what happened is still hazy even now. All I can really remember is being tied down, and being hit by Amano over and over. Later on I was told by Amano herself that even she had been afraid that she had killed me by the time it was all over. I could remember my clothes being ripped, and my legs being forced open. Amano had told me that she was going to show me what it was she had felt.

I remember screaming, then pleading, and then being reduced to sobbing. It had hurt so much. Though, just like how I had suffered when Amano had been suffering, she had been suffering also. Even if it was only a few minutes she was inside of me before pulling out and actually using lube, before starting again; to me it had felt like hours. And even then it still hurt.

Later on, while I lay on her bed barely breathing and bleeding, Amano explained everything to me. Every since she'd became a teenager, she'd always felt like a boy. So she'd acted like a boy, dressed like a boy, even taken drugs so that she would not develop fully. That "˜hard' thing I'd felt that night while she'd been kissing me was something she had brought from a store. She told me, laughing while she said it, that if I had not pulled away that night, she would have made love to me. She told me that her parents had always offered to have her get a sex change if it all became too much for her. I guess being raped had been the thing that had pushed her over the edge, and had made her destroy the body God had given her just so she could feel safe in her own body.

I guess it was all my fault for pulling away.

The next day, Amano had tended to my wounds. Her parents had left her at home alone to go on a business trip. It seemed the whole world had been changing to her favor. The day she'd raped me, had been a Friday, the day before vacation. A simple call to my mother and I was in her care for the entire vacation, seeing as how Mother was more than happy to have me out of her way. For two whole weeks she "˜punished' me. Which was basically fucking me to the point of not being able to move, beating me when I threw up, and then playing some sick game of mother-henning me.

I remember on the last day of the second week, that I had been crying. I had gotten sick, and was feverish. She said that the entire time I had been calling out for her, though each time she would come I would just cry and fight her, while at the same time still calling for her. I had told her that's because at that time I had not thought of her as "˜Amano'. The Amano I knew would have never hurt me, and would have cared for me and forgiven me no matter what I did.

After that day, Amano never again touched me. Though by that time, I'd come to crave her touch. I suppose it was a sickness. I wanted to feel Amano touching me, holding me down, dominating me. I remember later on wondering if that made me gay, though Amano had always said that it was best to just not think about it.

The third week of vacation, somehow I had fallen in love with Amano. With that cruelty that was now a part of her. Even if she had not mean't for it to happen this way, our lovemaking was always intense and rough. Even at the ages of fourteen and seventeen, we were basically husband and wife. Of course, Amano was the husband, and I guess that left me with being the wife.

When my fifteenth birthday came, and Amano had turned eighteen, I ran away with her. To a new home, a new school. We were happy. Her parents still paid for everything, so we were basically free to do as we wanted. At our new school, Amano quickly fell back into the role of the bastard troublemaker, and I somehow fell into the role as the quiet kid who was always hanging around the troublemaker. Only there everyone thought I was a girl, and no one ever bothered me in fear of Amano.

Of course, unlike Amano, I never planned to get a sex change. I'd seen one on TV once, and had spent the entire time whimpering and holding myself. When I started to talk to my lower half, assuring it I would never let anyone cut it off, Amano just laughed, turned off the TV, and then spent the next hour showing me just how much she loved my body. She never pressured me into getting a sex change like she had. Although she didn't mind fueling my quickly growing fetish for dressing up as a girl. Seeing as how my body didn't seem to want to accept that it was male, and grow tall and thick like all the other boys, I decided to at least use the girlish figure to my advantage.

At school, Amano and I could not be as open with each other as we were at home, seeing as how she was eighteen. Although we did steal little kisses every now and then. And any time there was a pep rally or something like that, we skipped it in favor of finding some empty classroom or janitor room so that we could spend time with each other.

By the time I was sixteen, Amano and I were practically a married couple. It was something we always joked about, that the moment I turned sixteen, we were getting married. She would be the groom, and I would be the bride, and no one would be able to do a damn thing about it. Though sometimes I wondered if Amano felt bad about getting the change, seeing as how now she would never be able to have children. Though she always told me that I was the only brat she needed in my life.

It made me feel both happy and annoyed to hear her say that.

My mother and father were not pleased about me being with Amano. Though after a few custody battles, I was awarded custody to Amano's parents, which was strange in a way, seeing as how in a way that made me and Amano siblings. Though Amano didn't find it as amusing as I did when I started calling her "˜Amano-niisan' in bed. Although she never really told me to stop either.

One thing that I can still remember clearly, was the day that I had actually gone down on Amano. To other people I guess it would not be all that fascinating, though to me it's one of the few things that I actually wish I could put in a scrapbook. Seeing as how it had ended up with me making a complete idiot of myself, yet feeling proud of myself at the same time. Seeing as how for once it was me that surprised Amano by asking to do it, rather than her requesting it.

As always, I was amazed by that part of Amano that had been created, not something she had been born with. It had always surprised me that such a thing could be done, and even if it did seem perverted, sometimes when we were in the shower I would just look at it. Though I guess it was just another wonder and miracle of science.

I once joked with Amano that soon they would be able to make attachable vaginas and penises. Of course, that had gotten me a slap to the back of the head, though it had been nice to watch Amano laugh.

Though anyway, not to get too off track. I had asked Amano if I could go down on her, while she was sitting in the living room watching TV. Of course, I had no real idea how to do such a thing, other than what I had seen off TV, so I was pretty sure I wasn't all that good. And I was even more than sure that I had managed to scrap my teeth against Amano a few times too. One thing I remember was trying to fit all of her into my mouth and ending up gagging, which turned into me glaring at Amano for a good five minutes as she laugsomesome. After a few minutes I tried once again, and actually managed to do it without any other mess ups. Except that I choked when Amano came in my mouth. Though at least she babied me afterwards, giving me a hand job while she whispered in my ear about how good a job I'd done.

And now to be on the perverted side for one quick moment. I don't know why, but I always enjoyed when ever Amano let me ride her, or gave me a hand job, or basically anything that required me being in her lap. I guess I was just weird like that, though Amano says it's because I like the feeling of being held. I guess it's because my parents never held me enough.

While I was still going to school, Amano worked at her father's business. I don't know why, but the first time I saw Amano come home in a suit, I got so turned on that we ended up making love on the kitchen table. Though from the way Amano describes it, it was basically like I grabbed her and demanded she fuck me right then and there.

I can't help that I have a businessman fetish.

It got to the point where she would change before coming home, not wanting to be jumped. She always joked that it was just me going through the "˜horny housewife' stage. Though she didn't seem to have any problems jumping me when ever I dared to wear my school girl uniform at home, or the French maid uniform I had brought from a costume store. In fact, it seemed that anytime I wore a skirt around her, I was in danger of being jumped. Which, I guess is why I always wore nearly only skirts, until her fetish changed to wear anything short, tight, and showing skin would be enough to turn her own.

One day out the blue my parents came to visit us. I think they were surprised at how neat and clean the loft we were living in was. For some reason, I think they were expecting for us to be living in some one room apartment in the middle of a neighborhoore pre people got robbed, shot, and stabbed every night. They were even more surprised to see me doing my work on the living room table dressed in my school uniform. Of course, the look on their face when Amano came home dressed in her business suit was just priceless.

For some reason, my parents decided that they'd wanted to have a private talk with Amano. Of course, I didn't leave the room until Amano told me too, glaring at her when she swatted me on the rear as I walked by. That didn't seem to sit too well with my parents either. Though I guess they would not have been pleased with the fact that when me and Amano were not ripping each others clothes off, she was playing the role of mother and father, which also included disciplining me.

It was an hour later until finally I was allowed to come out of my room. My parents didn't' seem pleased at all, and Amano just looked smug. Sitting down beside her on the couch, I saw my parents immediately glare at her, but I didn't care. I loved Amano. No matter what Amano did I was always going to love her. And she was always going to love me.

Of course, that's when the barrage of questions came.

"How can you do this to us?" "What will your grandparents think?" "If you wanted to be gay, why not settle down with a real man?"

That last question was what had finally sent Amano over the edge, arguing with my parents that instead of complaining they should just be happy that I'd found someone that loved me and protected me. I just found it funny that my father thought that the only reason I was going with Amano was because I didn't want to admit I was gay by going with a real man. But, Amano was basically a man, except she had been born a woman. But, now that she'd gotten a sex change, didn't that make her just as much a man as the next?

Hours later, my parents finally left, and Amano took me to bed. We didn't have sex that night, Amano claiming that it was because she was tired. Though I was pretty sure it had something to do with what my parents had said.

Days later Amano confessed to me that my parents had told her that what we had together would not last. That it was going to fail, and I would end up leaving her. I was pissed at my parents for saying such a thing, and even more pissed off at Amano for believing such a thing. The next time we had sex, it wasn't our usual tear-clothes-off-and-fuck-till-you-can't-move type sex, though more taking-time-and-feeling-our-way-through type of sex. Which, was just as mind blowing as the usual kind of sex. We did it three times that night, which I guess was Amano's way of trying to make up for the sex we had had had while she was trying to forget what my parents had told her.

Two years later, and I am still with Amano. Still living in the same happy little loft, where she makes it her priority to fuck me any and everywhere in the place. My parents were proven wrong, I still love Amano now just as much as I did back then. Even though, technically she could be arrested for statutory rape, my parents have been at least kind enough to not report her. And she still likes to joke about being the "˜adult' in the relationship; still calling me chibi every now and then.

Anyway, a night of writing downrythrything that has happened can be very tiring. Even more tiring when having to deal with one very perverted and horny husband, who will not leave you alone until they are sated. Even now as she's reading this over my shoulder she's laughing. I love when she laughs. And since my special person is still reading this:

I love you Amano-niisan. Now let's fuck.