Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2007 21:52:20 -0800
From: bahee <bahee@telus.net>
Subject: Brianne A-birth-day

It was grey, cold and wet. The air was heavy, pressing in almost
suffocating. It had been a rough day at school. Things had been going
pretty well since joining the new school. Oh, there had been some hassling,
but on the whole I had been accepted or at least tolerated.  I had even
made some girl friends. There had been, and still were, the odd comment but
generally the girls really wanted to know how I felt, what was it like. The
boys tended to be embarrassed and covered up in a rough way. Today had been
hell though. A small gang, boys and girls, had been really mean and
hurtful. Several times I thought they were going to get violent.

On the way home, feeling very blue and sorry for myself, I was confronted
by a small group, three or four, who had been bugging me all day. One boy
had been particularly obnoxious.  He was considerably bigger than me and
scared me shitless - well not literally. He was calling me a few names. He
came closer and closer. He pushed me a couple of times in the chest. I
staggered back and fell against a wall. The next thing I remember is lying
curled up into a small ball on the ground, crying and whimpering. Kirstie,
one of my few friends from school was bending over me.

"Brianne, Brianne. Are you alright? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

I felt as if I had been hit by a train. There was no sign of cuts or blood,
but my head ached, my chest was sore and my arms and legs felt as if they
had been kicked or punched.

"Oh, Kirstie. Thank god it's you. Are those bastards gone. Jesus Christ I
hurt. Help me up, please."

"What happened?"

"I don't remember, but that son of a bitch must have beaten me up. Has the
fucker gone?"

"It's just me here now. I don't think he beat you up."

"What do you mean? It feels like a truck just rolled over me."

"Well, I was just coming round the corner when I saw that big fucker go up
to you. He seemed to just give you a little push in the chest and you fell
against the wall. Then you dropped to the ground and started screaming as
if you were being beaten up, but no one was touching you. Your screams must
have really scared them because they all took off.  By the time I got to
you the screams had stopped and you were just all curled up like a baby,
crying. Are you going to be OK? Do you want me to come home with you?"

"Thanks, Kirstie, but I think I can manage it OK."

I managed to get home. The strange thing was that there was not a mark on
me anywhere, but I ached all over. My head was pounding. There was a
stabbing pain in my chest every time I took a breath. There were pains in
my arms and legs, but there was absolutely no sign of any bruising or
cuts. I needed to talk to someone, anyone, but the house was empty. I made
my way over to Sue's place. I didn't exactly crawl up the steps, but it was
difficult. I tried the door but it was locked. I hammered on the door;
jammed a finger on the door bell.  Please god, let her be home. The door
finally opened.

"OK, OK, Cool it. What's up?"

I pushed my way into the house and threw my arms around Sue. I just clung
to her. The tears were released and flooded down my face. I was sobbing and
shaking.

"God almighty, Brianne, what's up, what's wrong? Has something happened?"

I couldn't get the words out. Sue led me into the sitting room. The
lighting was low with several candles burning. She took me to the
chesterfield where we sat together. After several minutes my shaking
stopped and the sobbing calmed a little. I was finally able to get a few
words out and started to tell her what had happened. It was then that I
noticed there was someone else in the room. Sue noticed me looking into a
corner of the room where the light was very low. Someone was sitting there,
just watching and listening.

"It's Ok dear. This is my friend Di. You're lucky she is visiting and she
can probably help us, if you want. Di, this is my special friend Brianne
that I have been telling you about.  Brianne, say hello to my friend."

"Hi, Brianne, dear. It sounds as if you've been having a very scary day."

I don't know what it was, but she had a very soft and soothing voice. Just
hearing her speak made me feel better. The shakes began to calm down. I was
able to stop crying.

"Sue dear, can you get us a couple of blankets. Brianne seems very cold. I
think we should try to warm her up first."

Sue pried herself out of my clinging arms and left the room. Di got up and
came over to the chesterfield where I was sitting.

"Brianne, let's see if we can sort some of this out. Why don't you stretch
out on the couch and try to relax a bit. Here let me take those runners
off."

Sue came back into the room with a blanket which they place over me. Di
tucked me in.  She continued to talk to me. I don't remember the words, but
gradually a the feeling of oppression began to lift. The blackness was
lightening. I felt tired.

I found out later that Di was a professional hypno-therapist. That night
she talked to me and `put me under'. I don't remember a great deal of that
evening. When I woke up things didn't seem nearly as bad. Life wasn't
perfect by any means, but I was calmer, feeling that something was very
wrong but it was something that could be fixed. Sue told me that she had
been talking to Mum and that she was now going to take me home.

That was my introduction to Di. Over the next few months we were to have
many sessions together. Di used age regression techniques. She helped me
relive some very happy times, times that had become lost, suppressed. There
were some very happy times when I was four and five. Jen and I used to play
together. One of our favourite games was playing families.  We would
play-act being mothers taking our children to play school. We would get
Jen's dolls out and we would take them to school. In one of these play
times Jen said that I should really dress properly and suggested that I
should wear one of her dresses. It seemed like a good idea so she gave me
one of her sun dresses. I was having trouble pulling it on over my shirt
and jeans so Jen suggested that I should take them off and it would be
easier to get the dress on. So we did it. I'm sure that the first
suggestion came from Jen, but once I was changed I thought it was great. It
wasn't long before I was wearing Jen's clothes at every opportunity. Mum
very quickly found out because, of course, we made no effort to hide our
play. She was cool with her four-year old's cross-dressing, realizing that
it was quite normal.

There were other memories. As I relived them I came to realize I had been
ambivalent at the time. It was around my fifth birthday. Mum and Dad both
worked so Jen and I often had a baby sister for an hour or so. Our regular
baby sister had moved and we needed a new one. The local school had been
running courses for the older students that wanted to earn some pocket
money baby-sitting so Mum got one of their graduates. It happened to be a
boy. He seemed like an adult to me, but I guess he was about 14 or 15. Any
way, he came round a couple of times when Mum was around so we could get
used to each other.

By now I was wearing Jen's clothes most of the time at home, even if we
weren't playing our mother games. The time came when Greg was finally
sitting us. Dad was working late and Mum was off to some meeting or
other. Greg came over after dinner. Jen and I had finished our baths and
were in our night clothes when he arrive. At this time we were both wearing
a nightdress for bed, though we usually referred to mine as a night
shirt. We wore panties underneath. When Mum left Greg said he would read us
a bed time story. We climbed up onto the chesterfield, Greg in the middle
and Jen and I cuddled up close to him as he read one of the Dr. Suess
books. It was great fun and it became part of a regular routine whenever
Greg sat with us.

One evening after Greg had been sitting for a few weeks, Greg said it was
time for his girls to come for their story. I'm sure it was the first time
that anyone had called me a girl. It just seemed natural. We snuggled up as
usual. Greg put an arm round each of us while Jen and I held the book for
him to read. As he read I felt his hand moving from my waist down to
between my legs. He was playing with my pee-pee. It felt funny, maybe not
quite right, but it also felt good. I liked it. I looked over and saw that
his other hand was doing the same sort of thing with Jen, so it must be
OK. Story over and it was time for bed. Greg came to tuck me in.

"Did you like the story tonight."

"Yeah, I really like Green Eggs and Ham."

"Did you mind the game I was playing?"

"It was OK."

"Can we play a bit more?'

"If you want to."  He put his hand inside my bedclothes and under my
nightie. He began to play with my pee- pee again. I quite liked it.

"Would you mind if I kissed your prick?"

"What's that?'

"Your pee-pee thing. Would you let me kiss it?'

"OK."

He pulled back my bed clothes.

"I love the way you wear dresses all the time and a nightie for bed. It
makes things easier."

He pushed up my nightie. "Boy, you girls wear pretty panties." He pulled
down my panties and bent over to kiss my pee-pee. But then he started to
suck on it. After awhile he said "enough for tonight." and pulled up my
panties, smoothed out my nightie and tucked in my blankets. "Got to go and
say goodnight to my other girl now." He gave me a kiss, turned off the
light and left.

We now had a new routine when Greg came over. When it was time for our
story Jen and I would take off our panties and give them to Greg. He used
to smell them for a little while.  Then we would get up on his lap, making
sure our nighties were pulled way up so that Greg could play with our
pee-pees while he was reading to us. Then when it was time to bed we would
get our special kisses from Greg. He would suck on my pee-pee and sometimes
he would kiss and lick my bottom. Somehow I knew it would not be a good
idea to tell Mum or Dad about these things, but they sure felt good. Jen
said she liked it also, but didn't want to tell anyone else about it.

One evening when Greg was sitting us, Dad came home early. We never saw
Greg again after that. Later I woke up to hear Mum and Dad shouting at each
other. It was very scary.

My session with Di were usually very relaxing. Bit by bit she helped me
remember and re-live many happy times from years ago. There was one period
though that always resulted in waking up very agitated, even screaming on a
couple of occasions. It centred on an a memory when I was about five and a
half. Taking small steps, with much easing off, she gradually took me into
the episode. Piecing it all together with help from Mum, I finally found
out that my Dad had been very abusive to Mum. Things came to a head one day
when he came home somewhat the worse for drink. He found Jen and me playing
one of our family games. This time we had not only dressed-up but we had
also made-up. We had found some of Mum's nail polish and applied it quite
liberally. We had also used some of her lipstick, eye shadow and anything
else we could get our hands on. I can imagine what we must have looked
like. Dad was shouting at us, and me in particular. The last thing I can
recall is a big hand swinging through the air, aimed right at my head.

Mum then got into the act and filled in the bits that I could not
remember. I was in a coma for two weeks. I had a broken arm, fractured leg
and some cracked ribs. I came to in the hospital, though it was very much
touch and go for a time. When I finally got home Dad was gone and to this
day I have never seen him again. As the three of us, Mum, Jen and myself,
worked through it with the help of Di, I found out that Mum had been very
much the battered wife. However, that one incident that put me in hospital
was the only time that he took it out on Jen and me.

When I came home from the hospital, Jen and I stopped playing our family
games. No body said anything, it just seemed to us to be the right thing to
do. Nothing was said, we just didn't do it anymore. And then, several years
later, I saw Sam in the locker room, and you know what that lead to.

During out session with Di we came to realize that I am girl, always have
been a girl, that was born with a physical deformity - a prick. Some
important decisions were made: hormone treatment was going to begin as soon
as possible; gender reassignment surgery was to be investigated; and I was
going to be re-born into the family.

Surgery is still an option, the other two have been carried out.

Towards the end of the summer we rented a cabin at a very quite resort. Six
of us went there for a week, me and the five most significant people in my
life - Mum who has always known; Jen who has had a good idea of the true
state of affairs for years but didn't know what she knew; Sam who finally
helped me get things straight; Sue who provided the impetus to face up to
things; and Di who helped us all put it together.

The plan was simple in theory, but took quite a bit of organizing. We were
to act out a birth.  Mum would re-enact by birth. I would be born again,
emerging from her womb as a girl. I would be treated as a baby for a day,
kept in diapers, fed by bottle. During the week my age would be advanced
bit by bit so I could grow up as a girl. Di would play a big part in all
this as she would use hypnosis to help me get really into the part.

We arrived at the cottage. After a light supper we assembled in the living
room. Mum dressed in a night gown and climbed up onto a table. I undressed
and Di but me into a light sleep.  Mum started to moan and yell. I got
under the table. Sue was the mid-wife and using her comments as cues I
gradually crawled out from under the table to find myself between Mum's
legs. Sue took hold of me and pulled. I felt Mum squeezing me with her
legs. I crawled forward. Sue gave me one hell of a smack on the backside,
and yelled. I don't remember it being in the script. Mum opened her night
gown and I climbed up on the table with her and suckled.

That night and all the next day I was dressed in diapers and fed by
bottle. For the next two days I was allowed to age, but I was a very poor
potty trainee. Frankly, I just liked the feeling of diapers and didn't want
to give them up. But all good things come to an end.

By the end of the week I was a teen-age girl with lots of growing up
memories. Jen had the little sister she had always wanted. Mum had two
daughters and had finally come to terms with her years of abuse. Sam learnt
that our relationship was a great deal more than rampant, mixed up teen-age
hormones. I'm not sure what Sue got out of the week, but I became her
devoted slave, but much about that in another chapter. I'm pretty sure Di
got a research paper out of the experience.