Date: Tue, 19 Jul 2005 19:21:00 -0400 (EDT)
From: yengo <yengo@myway.com>
Subject: I Suppose

I SUPPOSE

by Jennifer Bowman

Author's Note: Although the following is a work of fiction I don't believe,
for some people, it is far from the truth. I am sure that, somewhere in the
world, someone has had an experience similar to that which I describe
below. And if it has happened to one, then how many others have had a
similar experience?  I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it.

CHAPTER 1

When you grow up in a family of five children - four girls and a boy - it's
almost inevitable, if you're that boy, that somewhere along the line you'll
get involved with girly things. These include, but are not restricted to
dolls and dolls' houses and pretty dresses and, dare I say it, yucky boys,
the latter because that's what your sisters called the children in the area
who were not girls. For some reason I wasn't a yucky boy, perhaps because I
was family and therefore, well, I don't really know the reason I wasn't a
yucky boy. Somehow, when I'm talking with my sisters about our childhood,
that never comes up.

My sisters treated me like one of them; a girl whom our parents dressed
differently to them. I recall Sarah, when I was about five or six and she
was a year older, asking our mother why I wore short pants instead of a
dress. I don't recall what our mother replied but whatever it was it didn't
satisfy Sarah; from then on she encouraged me to wear her nickers so I
would be more like her and the others. The other girls thought it was a
great idea. Not knowing any better, I did. Of course we all knew that
physically we were different; I had that thing growing out between my legs
and my sisters didn't and I had to stand to pee and my sisters sat, but
somehow that didn't seem to compute. Wearing her nickers didn't last long;
I was scared Mum would find out but while I was wearing them I felt
different. At the time I didn't know how I felt, just that I felt
different. Looking back I suppose I felt more like a girl.

By the time I was ten, my sisters and I went everywhere together. Looking
back I guess this was unusual, so many kids from the one family doing
things together, particularly boys well, a boy and girls, but it seemed to
us to make some sort of sense. Dad was away on business much of the time so
it meant Mum had to take us to weekend sport; netball and swimming and
tennis and so on. Sundays were Mum's day off, to do as she wished without
us kids. Usually she was gone by around nine thirty and didn't get home
until around five thirty or six at night. Mostly she spent it with the
woman next door, sometimes in her home, mostly they went further afield.

When I was around twelve or thirteen I was like many boys my age: I was
sports-minded but not sports mad, I played cricket and basketball but not
football or hockey; I studied but was not studious, I was clever but not a
brain or a geek; I liked girls but had no girlfriend.

One Sunday morning after Mum had left for the day and it was just us kids,
Barbara, who was two years older than me said "We've all been talking and
we think because we go everywhere together we should all dress the same. At
home, I mean, when Mum's not around."

Instantly I was both excited and scared. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"We think you should dress like us and wear girl's clothes."

"Why?"

"Because we go everywhere together and we think you're our sister." She
said it in that way that young girls have that suggests that, because you
couldn't figure that out, you're a dunce.

"But what would Mum say?"

She giggled. "I didn't mean when Mum and Dad were around, silly. I meant on
Sundays when Dad's away and Mum is out."

"Oh."

"Would you like to?"

"Um, I guess. But I don't have any girls clothes."

"I know. I'd let you wear some of mine but you're a bit tall so Helen said
you could wear her clothes.  Come on."

She took me into Helen's room and they were all there, looking at Helen's
clothes and deciding what would suit me.

Suddenly I was embarrassed; this was exciting and, somehow, forbidden but
my sisters didn't seem at all worried.

"Take off all your clothes" Barbara said.

"But..."

"You can't put on Helen's clothes over yours, they wouldn't fit."

"Oh."

Suddenly this didn't seem to be such a good idea but reluctantly I did as I
was told. As I took off my underpants I suddenly realised I had what I then
called a stiffy. This wasn't the first I had but it was certainly the first
I had in front of my sisters. I tried to cover myself but Amy, who was the
oldest said "Don't worry, James, I've seen stiffys plenty of times" then
blushed as she realised what she had said.

"What's a stiffy?" one of the others asked and Amy just pointed between my
legs.

There was silence as the girls looked at my erection then Helen asked "What
does it feel like?" and Barbara asked "Can I touch it?" and Amy said "Of
course you can touch it. That's what girls do. Boys like girls touching
it. You won't mind, will you James?"

"I.... ah...."  And by then Helen was touching it then she rubbed her hand
up and down it and then Sarah and Barbara wanted to touch it and suddenly
my body felt a lot different than it had done moments before and I was
breathing a lot faster. I didn't know what was going on. And then, it
seemed from a distance I heard Amy say "Let me do it. I know what to do"
and then there was this stuff shooting out the end of it and the girls were
saying "Oh" and "Wow" and "It's sticky" and "We better clean it up" and I
started to cry. "You've broken something" I cried. "What's Mum going to
say?"

"We haven't broken anything." This from Amy. "What happened was...." and
she told us about the birds and the bees. Actually she didn't; we all knew
about the birds and the bees but this was the first experience any of us
had, except apparently, Amy, of a guy coming. And then she said "It was
just as well, anyway.  You wouldn't have been able to put on Helen's
knickers with that pointing at the sky. You'll just have to make sure it's
not up in the air like that next time. And if it is, we'll help you make it
go down. Won't we?" and she looked at the others. I could see out of the
corner of my eye that statement register with my sisters and I thought I
knew what they were thinking but Amy continued and said "Put these on" and
handed me a pair of girls underpants. "Pink is for girls" she said and then
she handed me a dress and then she said "No. Before you put that on, you
better put on a bra."

I knew what a bra was so I said "But I haven't got...."

"It's a training bra. That's what girls wear when their breasts are
growing. It's to get them used to wearing a real bra."

"Oh" I said as I looked at it, wondering how it went on.

"Put your arms through here.... and here.... now this goes around your
chest.... like this.... and does up at the back.... like this. There. Very
good. Now you can put on the dress." And finally I was dressed, including a
light amount of make-up. "Look in the mirror." I did, and couldn't believe
what I saw. No longer James, but another girl. "What do you think?"

"I don't know." Suddenly I was excited. "I think.... I look like a real
girl."

"You can be, if you want. Whenever Mum and Dad are out, you can be as much
a girl as you want to be.  But you'll need a girl's name. What about
.... Rebecca?"

"OK."




CHAPTER 2

>From then on I was accepted as another sister. The girls treated me as one
of them even when Mum and Dad were home and if they knew what was going on
they didn't say anything.

Weekends when my sister's school friends came to our place, if I didn't
know them and if I hadn't yet changed, it was usually "This is our brother
James. He likes wearing girls clothes so then we call him Rebecca." And if
I was dressed in girls clothes when they arrived, it was "This is Rebecca,
our brother."

Gradually I became aware that there seemed to be more and more girls at our
place and they seemed to be coming earlier and earlier. When I mentioned
this to Amy she said "They want to see you with no clothes on so they can
see your stiffy. Some of them want to touch it but we won't let them. We've
told them you're our sister so if anyone is going to play with it, it will
be us." And so it was; every Sunday, one of my sisters stroked me to climax
in front of what seemed like hundreds of young girls. I didn't mind. Nor,
apparently, did they.

For some reason, even though they watched me climax, I was accepted as a
girl; I suppose it was partly because if it was good enough for my sisters
it was good enough for their friends and partly because my sisters had
taught me how to be more like a girl when I was dressed; I walked like a
girl, giggled like a girl, and, on Sunday only, talked about the boys at
school. I even sounded like a girl. Sometimes, if a new girl arrived at our
place, she would tell me she couldn't believe I was really a boy.

As I got older, gradually I was getting my own female clothes; some I had
been given by my sisters, some they had bought for me. By now we had
progressed to going to the local mall, me dressed as Rebecca, and no one
had noticed there was anything strange about one of the girls. Sometimes I
had to leave home as James and change at the home of one of my sister's
girlfriends. My sisters encouraged to go into many of the shops just to
"look around" and it was here that I had one of the most unusual, and
accepting experiences of my life.

I suppose I was by then about fifteen. I'd gone into a shop that
specialised in female underwear bras and nickers and g-strings and
torsolets and garter belts and, well, everything a young girl would want. I
saw a bra and nickers set I liked and asked to try on the bra. The
saleswoman asked me if I would like to be fitted with the bra so I had the
correct size and I said "Yes."

"The change room is over there" she said. "Go over and take your top off
and I'll be over in just a minute."

I suppose I had been dressing as a girl for so long I did as I was told and
it wasn't until I was in the change room, taking off my blouse, that I
realised what I'd done. By then it was too late. My back was to the door
and I could see the saleswoman in the mirror. "I.... I.... I...." I didn't
know what to say but, as it turned out, I needn't have worried.

"I see you're still wearing a training bra" she said. "I thought you might
be so I brought these silicon inserts to put in the bra. They'll give you
the shape you want...." She paused then continued ".... and the shape a
young girl like you needs. Can't have the boys thinking you have no
breasts, can we?" And then she said "Now take off your skirt and try this
on."

She was the most amazing woman I had ever met; she obviously knew what sort
of girl I really was but she treated me like a real girl. "This" was a
garter belt and as I dropped my skirt, I was sure she could see my obvious
erection. She ignored that, just concentrated on getting the belt fitted
just right, then explained to me about wearing stockings instead of panty
hose. Then she said "You know, you're going to have to learn to control
that so it doesn't make a bulge in your skirt or dress. Maybe you should
wear slightly looser clothes so it's easier to hide. I've got a couple of
clients who are girls like you and they tuck it between their legs" and she
proceeded to tell me how.

When it was all over she said "You're very beautiful. I think you're going
to break a few hearts. Young men, I mean. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I.... ah..."

"Well, you will. When you're ready, come and see me again and I'll help you
with something really sexy."

I was floating on air when I left the shop. It was the first time anyone
had said I was beautiful, let alone "very" beautiful. And the first time
anyone, apart from my sisters, had acknowledged me as a girl.

By now I had re-joined the others and, as girls do, we discussed our
purchases. They were amazed I had bought silicon breasts but when they
realised why, they all thought it was a good idea. "You'll really get the
guys looking at you" someone said and I blushed and remembered what the
woman in the shop had said. Once again I was both excited and scared.




CHAPTER 3

By now I suppose I was about seventeen and some of the girls were bringing
boys to our house on the weekends. I no longer had to put on a show for the
girls. "We've got boyfriends now so we can pull them whenever we want"
someone said and in some ways I was relieved although one or other of my
sisters still wanted to, and did play with me.

The boys all accepted me for who I seemed to be although they all knew who
I really was and treated me no differently than they treated any of the
other girls. The silicone breasts had really been a good idea especially as
winter was approaching and I liked wearing tight pullovers. I was, by now,
wishing I could dress as a girl full-time, but it wasn't possible. I
suspect Mum may have known what was going on and she might have told Dad,
but I didn't think so I'm pretty sure he would have said something if he
had known but I wasn't brave enough to tell them so I had to put up with
dressing just one day, and rarely two days a week.

There were usually one or two boys "over" each week. By that I mean that
they had come to our house with their friends but didn't yet have a
girlfriend. We'd all go out together, six or eight or ten of us and
frequently the others would pair off. I didn't because, although I wanted
to, I couldn't pair off with one of the girls because, although they knew
what I had under my dress, I still appeared to be a girl, and I couldn't
pair off with one of the boys because, under all my clothes, I was, and
they knew I was one of them. But despite this, over a period of a couple of
months, I gradually became friends with a boy named David and soon we were
holding hands. We weren't going out, just holding hands around the house,
in front of the other kids None of our friends thought this was strange; we
were just a boy and a girl who liked each other enough to hold hands. One
day he tried to kiss me and without thinking I gave what was probably a
very feminine response: "Not here; someone will see us." Very soon after
that he asked me if I'd like to go to the movies with him and I remember my
heart jumped and started pumping faster. I recall I said "Yes."

"Can we go on a Sunday afternoon?" he asked shyly.

"Yes" I whispered.

"Because I want to go with Rebecca" he said and suddenly I realised what
was going on. He accepted me as I now knew I wanted to be, not who I really
was. "But we'll have to leave early and come home early so your Mum doesn't
find out."

The afternoon was perfect, what one would hope a first date would be. He
picked me up in his car and on the way home I put my hand on his
thigh. Although my hand was nowhere near it I could feel his erection
throbbing with excitement. He drove to a quiet street near a National Park
and when he stopped the car the silence in the car was so thick it was like
being in a fog. He turned to me and as he did my hand moved nearer his
erection. He said "Can I.... can I...." then cleared his throat. "Can I
kiss you, Rebecca?" he asked.

I didn't answer, just closed my eyes and moved closer to him. He put one
hand to my face and whispered "You're beautiful" then I could feel his lips
on mine, so soft, so gentle, so exquisite. It was the most beautiful kiss I
think I have ever experienced. Then, as the kiss became more intense, I was
aware that I could feel his erection under my hand. I suppose I moved my
hand as I turned to him, but I wasn't aware of it. And then I was aware
that I was moving away from him. I suppose I panicked. "We can't do this" I
said. "Please.... Take me home."

"But...."

"I'm sorry David. Please take me home. Please."

He looked at me then he turned and said something that I didn't understand
at the time, but now realise that he was paying me a compliment. "You're
just like all the other girls Rebecca. You're a prick tease."




CHAPTER 4

And so the weekends progressed. Despite my turning him down, and so rudely,
David and I saw more of each other and as these things do, we gradually
became closer and both wanted to become more intimate.  There were two
problems: where, that is, the location, and where, that is because....

"I'm not a real girl" I told him one night in frustration.

"Becca, I know" he said. "But that doesn't matter to me. As far as I am
concerned you are a real girl. Sure you haven't got breasts and.... and the
other bits that real girls have but I still think of you as a girl." He
paused. "I love you getting me off me but.... don't you want to do what
real girls do?"

"Of course I want to. But I don't have a real pussy for you to.... you
know."

"It doesn't matter to me. Would you like me to.... do you.... there?"

I paused. "Yes" I whispered. "I'd love you to do me there. I'd love to have
you inside me. I feel like I'm a real girl but that's the closest I'll ever
get to being a real girl so yes. I'd love you to.... do me. Please?"

He was gentle, oh how he was gentle, just like his first kiss and when it
was over I said "I can't believe how good that was. Having you inside
me. And stroking my.... my clit while you were in me. I'll bet real girls
don't ever feel this good."

He grinned. "It was wonderful" he said. "For me too. And you.... you are
the most wonderful girl I have ever met."

Amazingly I didn't see him any more after that and I was later to learn
from Amy that a lot of guys treat girls like that; as Amy put it, they love
you then leave you. "But face it, sis, you're better off without a guy that
treats you like that."  Sis. She called me sis. Wow.




CHAPTER 5

One day, six months later, when I was Rebecca, Amy asked me if I had
considered leaving home. "You could move in with me if you wanted. We could
split the rent and you could dress as a girl as much as you wanted. What do
you think?" She grinned a me.

"I.... I think yes. But what do we tell Mum and Dad?"

"Well.... if James tells them that you're going to share a flat with me, I
don't think there would be a problem."

She was right. But I got another shock the day I moved in with Amy. When I
said "Good-bye" to my parents my Mother gave me a gift. "Don't open it
until you're at Amy's" she said. "I hope you like it. Let me know. And if
you want to, we can change it."

Later, when I finally did open it, I discovered a pair of ear-rings with a
note from my Mother. "To Rebecca, my newest daughter. Welcome to the
family." I was stunned, and suddenly the tears flowed. She was telling me
she knew all along, and she accepted the new me. I rang her to thank her
for the gift, and for her acceptance of me.

"It.... it's Rebecca, Mum," I said. "Thanks for the ear-rings. They're
beautiful. How did you know? When did you know? How did you find out?"

"I've known for a couple of years, honey. I heard your sisters whispering
one day and they don't usually whisper so I listened in to make sure they
weren't talking about drugs. They were talking about Rebecca and I couldn't
work out who they were talking about, because none of their friends was
called Rebecca.  So I listened some more and then I realised they were
talking about you. It was a bit of a shock."

I was silent for a moment. "I guess it would have been. But.... are you OK
about it now? I was going to tell you, but I didn't know when. Besides, if
I had told you when I was sixteen you probably would have thought I was
going through a stage."

We talked for an hour or so and I promised to stay in touch then just
before we said "good-bye" Mum, very hesitantly said "Are you going to make
any changes?"

"You mean to my clothes?"

"No.... to.... you. You know....physically. Are you going to....."

"I.... ah.... I suppose, Mum. I've been thinking of going onto
hormones...."

"What about the.... um.... you know, the.... operation?"

"Am I going to.... I haven't thought that far Mum. Thinking about it is
years away. But probably not".

The following day as I dressed as Rebecca Amy came in to my bedroom. "I see
you still like wearing girls clothes and I see it still excites you" she
grinned as she reached for my erection. "Would you like me to....  Of
course you would." And as she stroked me she said "I love the feel of a
good hard cock. What about you? Do you love the feel of a cock?" and put it
in her mouth. This was the first time anyone had given me oral sex and I
confess I didn't last long. "I think I'm going to like having you living
here, Becca" she said as I cleaned up then dressed. "Now. Where were
we. Oh, yes. Do you love the feel of a cock?"

"Do you mean playing with myself?"

"No, Becca, I don't mean playing with yourself. I mean your boyfriend's."

Suddenly I felt inadequate. "I don't have a boyfriend" I said.

"Don't have a.... well, we'll have to remedy that. Oh, I've been meaning to
tell you" she said as she watched me putting on my nickers. "If you use a
panty liner you'll soak up any last bits that dribble out and you'll also
have a much smoother, more feminine look in front. Wait. I'll get one of my
pads."

A week later she told me she was having a party and she'd invited lots of
people. "You need to meet people, get some friends, go out. Do you have a
party dress?"

"Um, no."

"Well, let's go shopping" she said.

I tried on dress after dress in all styles and all colours and finally
settled on a daffodil yellow dress with a high bodice and slits up the side
and a collar like a Cheung-sam; not a mini but certainly short. "Now shoes"
and with that we repeated the process, visiting what seemed like every shoe
shop in the mall.  Finally I settled on a pair of high heeled strappy
sandals in just the right shade of yellow. "You'll look good enough to eat"
she said. And grinned.




CHAPTER 6

A week later, when I looked at myself in the mirror I confess I thought the
same. I had my hair styled earlier in the day and Amy had paid for a
professional make-up job. Now, dressed and waiting for the guests to
arrive, I felt the first twinge of nerves. "Don't worry" Amy said. "You'll
be OK as soon as everyone arrives" and then the bell rang and people were
arriving and soon it seemed as if everyone in town had come to Amy's
flat. There were people everywhere; men and women, tall and short, fat and
thin, oh so many people.

And then there was Brad and Alec and John and Peter and it seemed like they
were all competing for me.  "They are" Amy said when I commented to her. "I
told them you were new in town so they said if they liked you they would
show you around. I guess they like you." She grinned at me. "I also told
Alec and Peter what sort of girl you were so there wouldn't be any
unpleasant surprises later. They said it wasn't a problem."

I was embarrassed, and slightly angry by Amy's revelation that she'd told
two of the guys about me, but I suppose I was also relieved. She was right;
it did mean there wouldn't be any surprises, particularly for the guys, and
it also meant I could enjoy myself with them without having to worry about
being found out.

It was a great party and toward the end Alec and Peter both asked me if
they could see me again. Of course I accepted.

The following day Amy asked me if I was still a virgin.

"Yes" I said, blushing. "Why?"

"I thought we might get you ready for.... for.... we might get you ready."

I looked at her.  "What do you mean?"

"Well.... the first time a.... a.... genetic girl has a man it usually
hurts so I figured it would probably hurt you, too. Because you'd be a bit,
um, tighter."

"Oh." I paused. "How? You haven't...."

"Got the equipment? Well, not natural equipment, but I thought maybe a
vibrator, or a dildo and then, when you're ready, I could put on a
strap-on."

I could feel my body charge with excitement. "You'd do that for me?"

"Oh, yes. And for me, too. I've always wanted to do that to a guy." And
blushed. "Oh, Becca, I didn't mean...."

"It's OK. I know what you meant.... Well.... why not?"

"Why not indeed?"




CHAPTER 7

Amy was right; the first time did hurt even though she used, as she
described it, "Truckloads of lube."

And then there was Brad, wonderful, gentle, tender, LARGE, Brad. And it
didn't hurt a bit.

Later, days later, Amy asked me what my plans were. Was I going to live
full-time as Rebecca?

"I've been thinking about that for some time. I've also been thinking about
breasts. So.... Yes, I am.  Obviously I'll have to get a job and if I get a
job as Rebecca then I'll have to learn how to handle guys...."  and with
that, Amy grinned at me. ".... No, not like that. I meant, how to treat
them at work.... OK, maybe I did mean the other, too.... but.... it is a
big step but, yes, I am going to do it. "

Amy was thoughtful, then she said "Well, I think you should be Rebecca all
the time. You're beautiful, inside and out, and you wouldn't have any
trouble handling guys. And I mean that any way you want to take it. Being
selfish, I want you full-time as my sister so I'm glad you've decided to
become Rebecca full time. Whoever would have thought, all those years ago,
when we dressed you in your first pair of panties...."

"I know." I grinned then said "I want to wear low cut dresses and tops so I
could show a bit of cleavage so to do that I need to go on hormones or have
implants."

"Well.... yes, I guess you would. How do you feel about that?"

I paused again. "Actually quite good. Deciding which to have though.... If
I decide on implants I can have them done almost immediately and my dick
will still work; on the other hand if I go on hormones, my breasts will
grow naturally, which I think would be rather nice, and feel rather good,
too, but I'd loose the use of my dick. But if I'm going to be a woman, I
don't need a dick anyway, do I? But there is one extra good thing about
being the sort of girl I am."

"What's that?"

"I can't get pregnant so I don't need birth control pills."

Amy laughed. "No, but you can have a lot of fun trying."




CHAPTER 7

Twelve months later, following my decision to go on hormones, my breasts
are fully grown and I'm dating quite a lot. The guys I choose accept me as
I am and the sex is wonderful. The next question I have to face is whether
or not to have surgery. But the decision on that is a long way off. Do I
have any thoughts as to what my final decision will be?
Maybe. Definitely. Probably, I suppose.

THE END