Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2023 18:37:50 +0000 From: ChristyDancer Subject: Christy's Diary - Chapter 27 Thursday, October 17 Carlos and I confirmed another golf lesson for Saturday. Sigh... maybe... First, the boring stuff. Halloween is 14 days away. Lower school kids (K--6) will trick-or-treat at our booths. Middle school kids usually show up and hang out, too cool for school, so to speak. Sometimes they get bored and help out with upper school booths. Of which there are 22, all sponsored by the student council in the hopes of raising money (with which, I have no idea what they do). Four from the 9th grade, 5 from the 10th, 6 from the 11th, and 7 from the seniors, corresponding to the number of class reps on student council. Emma-Red is one of our class reps, and she's going berserk over this thing. We've already decided on our theme, and on the design of our booth (a cat scratching post) and Emma-Red and Emma-Brunette's Dads (who, as it turns out, are good friends) are building the whole thing for us. However, Emma-Red wants a costume rehearsal on Sunday and a full--fucking-dress rehearsal in the commons (where the booths will all be set up) next Sunday. All this for a Halloween carnival that will last, what, two hours. Oh, and we have to give out candy along with the kitten headbands, so there's that. Our proposal (and everyone's for that matter) had to get approved by student council, to make sure there weren't 22 matching puss--n-boots booths. Turns out ours was unique (huh) but one girl from an ultra--conservative family (not many of them here, but yeah, a few) actually lodged a protest, saying our kitten ears were too close to the `pussy ears' popularized in the women's march in Washington what... like... two years ago? Three? Anyway, she was shouted down cuz everyone thought she was a a crazy Trumper anyway. I hear she's planning on going to some Uber-Christian college down south, and good riddance. But mainly my week was focused on the sex therapist (at least that's what I called her) that Dr. Strange wanted me to see. Her name was Ms. (not doctor) Hargrove, and she specialized in counseling adolescents with sexual attraction to the same sex. Now, this hit me as wrong on several levels. First, and in no particular order, I see myself as a girl and am attracted to boys. Accidental plumbing problems aside, I cannot quite understand what all the fuss is about. Second, and this is really the burr in my saddle (Yes, I took a year of horseback riding lessons in the 6th grade. Hated it.), `straight people' do not require counseling and therapy (and yes, given my gender `issue', I consider myself `straight'). Why should gay people require some kind of therapy? I expressed this in no uncertain terms to Mom. If meeting with Ms. Hargrove was a requirement of continuing on my hormone therapy, then yeah, I'd meet with her, but dammit, this seemed to be a waste of time. Mom gave it a huge amount of thought, and finally, on the drive home from school, said, "First, and you may not want to hear this, but after your father died, I had to see a LOT of therapists to deal with grief, emotional loss, and my own depression. Now, and it's not easy for me to say this, but I also saw a sex therapist. Your Dad and I had been together since college. For many years, he was the only man I knew. The only sex partner I knew for two decades. But I was still young, in my 40's, and couldn't imagine that my life as a woman was over. It took a couple of years for me to come to grips with my... well... sexuality." She thought for a minute, then went on, "Now Christy, you are going thru what can only be described as a `forced puberty'. Your hormone therapy, coming at a time in your life when young people are naturally starting to experiment with their sexuality, puts you in an emotional and I might say physical danger zone. Carlos is a very nice boy, apparently, but boys can try to take advantage of you, and while I hope you and Carlos become girlfriend and boyfriend for a long time, getting your mind in the right place will only help you with your relationship with Carlos and any other future boy you might date." "Christy, are you and Carlos at all sexually active? Tell me the truth. I'm not going to hold it against you, but I need to know to help you prepare." "Define `sexually active'." "Don't bullshit me, daughter, you know what I mean." "Sigh.... Well, we're kinda at what you might call `third base'. Nothing you would define as intercourse, although I'm not sure exactly how we could pull that off, but yes, he and I have had... third base contact." Mom just thought about that for a minute. "Well, if `third base' now-a-days means what it meant when I was your age... gawd, 35 years ago... well, I understand. I was a teenage girl, too. Do you feel like he's been forcing you?" "Oh God no," I said. "If anything, I'm the initiator. I'm actually very hungry for him, and while he's the one who `orgasms' at the time, I come home and think about him and, well, he's kinda in my bed with me, if you know what I mean." "Yes, I think I do. Look, I don't want you going any `farther' with Carlos until you've had a good chance to discuss this with your new therapist. If she's any good, and I've checked her out, she seems to be good, then she'll give you some good advice. You're very young, Christy, your body isn't fully developed yet, and while all this may seem fun-and-games right now, it has some very real implications for your physical development. I just want you to be careful, and don't hesitate to come to me if anything concerns you." I just nodded. This afternoon, I met with Ms. Hargrove after school. She was the complete opposite of Dr. Strange. In my mind I nicknamed her Mrs. Weasley, because that's exactly who she reminded me of -- the completely disheveled, earth-mom witch who was the mother to the Weasley kids. Her office actually looked like the Weasley house, with stuff just flung everywhere and no particularly order to anything. She was not at all what I expected. I wasn't sure I could share my innermost sexual secrets with Ms. Weasley, thinking that Ron and Ginny might come walking thru the door any minute with a pet rat or something like that. Mom stayed in the waiting room, and I was feeling kinda bad about how many of these waiting rooms I'd stuck her in lately. She said she was OK, and had a book to read on her iPad, but I still felt bad about it. Dr. Strange motioned me to sit in this really big comfie chair. Rather than sit behind her desk (or what passed for a desk -- really more of a kitchen table covered with piles of books and papers) she sat in a similar chair opposite me. I could tell she was trying to make it as un--clinical as possible. "So, Christy, Dr. Preston sent over your files. Just for starters, you're a girl, right?" I nodded, sitting there cross legged in a khaki skirt and fresh makeup, and then asked, "What gave it away?" "I have to ask, Christy. In cases like yours, I need an affirmative declaration from he patient that she views herself as a girl. Now, I'm going to get more personal. One hundred present girl, or somewhere else on the spectrum?" I had to think about that. Weirdly enough, Dr. Strange had never asked me that question. He seemed to be totally focused on the biology of my situation, and how I presented myself. "Ms. Hargrove, are you asking about my gender presentation or sexual orientation?" "For now, Christy, your own personal view of your gender presentation. Do you believe you present as a girl, a boy, or somewhere in between?" "I try to present as a girl. It's tough, but I'm lucky that I started out with a fairly effeminate physical persona anyway, but I don't have what you might call a `girly figure' and my hair is still a lot shorter than I'd like it to be. However, I wear girl clothes 24-7 now, and makeup, and hair styling. I use feminine pronouns, and answer to a girl's name. I don't have any outward male characteristics, and my small plumbing problem, which thank goodness remains small, is tucked away in either a plastic cover inside my underwear right now or with tape at other times. So yeah, mostly girl, but I still have room for improvement." "Do you miss anything about being a boy?" "Peeing standing up." "I'm being serious." "I am, too. It's the only thing I think I miss about being a boy, and frankly I'm forgetting about that." "Do you ever visualize yourself having sex?" "Daily." "And in these visualizations, is your partner a boy or a girl?" "Boy." "Do you think about any girls sexually?" The conversation went on that way for quite a while. She didn't ask at all about my sexual experiences to date. She only focused on my visualization of me in the sex act. We talked about oral, we talked about `handjobs', we talked about wet dreams, we eventually even talked about anal. "Have you considered or visualized yourself in an anal sex situation, Christy?" "Not so much, no." "What do you mean, not so much?" "I visualize myself with a boy, but we don't ever get that far." "How far do you get in these mental pictures?" "Usually oral -- me doing him -- and by that point, I'm too excited to think about the scene any further." "And it's always a male?" "Yep." Then she started asking me about the boys I knew. Apparently, Dr. Strange hadn't given Ms. Weasley all the details about me and Carlos, or maybe he had and she was just probing. Or maybe I've seen too many detective shows. Mom is addicted to Law and Order SVU. Maybe I'm looking at everything thru Olivia Benson's eyes. Anyway... I told her about Jason and I told her about Carlos. I didn't tell her EVERYTHING about Carlos, but I could tell she was reading between the lines. "Christy, you see, there are a lot of different approaches to what I do. First I have to find out who you are, or at least who you think you are. Who knows, you may have some latent personality buried down deep in there you don't know about. However, for the time being, I need to accept you as you think you are, and then dig into whether or not there are any issues we need to address." Then she scooted forward in her chair, to get closer to me, and said, "Christy, you're going thru a lot, and going thru it very fast, and with all of that, you seem to be the most well adjusted patient in your situation I think I've ever seen." "You mean I'm not the ONLY patient like me...." "Not by a long shot, Christy. There are a lot of adolescent or teen pre-op transsexuals out there, and you check pretty much all of the boxes. However, you, and all my patients for that matter, are going thru huge changes. Dr. Strange tells me your mother and friends are hugely supportive, and that's great. However what you're going thru is way beyond their abilities to give advice." She went on, "That's what I'm here for. Therapists in this state are protected under the same confidentiality laws as physicians, and even for minors. This is a safe space, and I couldn't even tell your mother what you tell me, even if I wanted to. And I promise you, I don't want to. As soon as kids start thinking they can't trust me, I'll have to hang up my shingle and see if they're hiring down at Starbucks." "There are two exceptions, Christy. If you tell me you're about to harm someone else --- not just an idle threat or a something like that, but an actual immediate threat to harm someone else, then I have to report it. Second, if I believe you are at risk of committing suicide sometime soon. Frankly, Christy, in your case, I don't see either of those happening, right?" I just nodded. "Yeah. Right. I have no plans to hurt anyone or myself." Then she leaned back in her chair again, and said, "OK, then, Christy, now why don't you start telling me the truth. Who are you fucking?" I was dumbstruck. "I'm not fucking anyone." "But....?" I sighed. "OK, ahhh.... Am I going to get someone in trouble about this?" "I dunno. How old is he?" "Just turned 16." "Then no. If he was an adult, we'd have to have a conversation about how to deal with this. I still couldn't go running to the cops, but you would need to." "I'm not fucking any adults, Ms. Hargrove, and I'm not actually fucking Carlos, not all the way, anyway, but..." I proceeded to tell her about the blowjobs, or really one and a half blowjobs, to be precise. I told her I'd almost certainly be doing it again, Saturday, and I coouldn't imagine NOT doing him. I gave her a blow-by-blow (pun intended) description of how it made me feel, and how restfully I slept that night. "Christy, you're a pair of horny teens, and there's no downside right now. I think it would surprise you how many of your girl friends have had a boy's penis in their mouths in the past week." "Yes, Ma'am. I can think of a couple right now." "Does your mother know?" "Yes, Ma'am. I told her." "What did she say?" "Not to go any farther with him until I talked with you." "You know what the next step is, right?" "Home base?" "Yes, and you know what that means, right?" "Well, not really. I mean, if I was a cis-girl and had a vagina, then yeah, I'd know what it meant. However, are you meaning anal?" "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Now, I am absolutely NOT encouraging you to go there. You and Carlos may feel completely fulfilled just staying on third base. I actually hope you do, because anal isn't just a simple `pop it in and be done with it' thing. There is some prep and clean-up. You may not like it, in which case the whole thing turns into an absolute mess and you'll end up here crying to me that you're never going to be happy with a boy. I don't want that to happen, so before you take that big leap, you and I need to talk. OK? I nodded. I was kinda sniffling at this point, and a little embarrassed. "Yes, Ma'am." "Now, I want to call your Mom in here and talk with the two of you. Nothing you and I have said will be discussed, OK?" With that, she buzzed for the receptionist to bring Mom in, who was there in a few seconds. Mom looked around the room for someplace to sit, and Ms. Hargrove pointed to an empty stool. "Ms. Dancer, Christy is a remarkably well--adjusted girl, given everything she's going thru and the speed with which everything is happening. I know you are concerned about her sexuality, and I think there's nothing going on her life that's out of the ordinary from other teen girls. The only two differences are that you know more than most moms about what your daughter is doing, and your daughter can't get pregnant." Mom chuckled, "Well, you got me there." Ms. Hargrove went on, "I'd let nature take its course right now, and let me see Christy every other week or so, more if she feels she needs to, so that I can continue to monitor her and be sure she's adjusting comfortably to her new role in life as a young lady." Mom said, "So, she should keep seeing a boy who I know she's having some sexual contact with?" Ms. Hargrove said, "Ms. Dancer, the only difference here is that you know. Very few other moms know, but I promise you, that if your daughter, or any daughter for that matter, was told to not see a boy, then nature would find some way to run its own course." Mom said, "I didn't have this problem with Becki." I butted in and said, "Yes you did, Mom, you just didn't know about it." Mom hung her head and said, "Yeah, I guess you're probably right." On the way home, Mom and I sat in silence, until I spoke up and said, "Mom, I was thinking about maybe getting a set of girls golf clubs. What do you think?"