Life Ain't Fair

Sara stared in the mirror at her breasts. She squeezed them. Hard. She did not care if the damned things bruised. Hell, she wanted nothing more than to cut the fuckers off. But what would that accomplish? Really? He would still be a woman. It was not fair.

For as long as he could remember Steve as he thought of himself had felt like a boy...a man. All of the pretty dresses and dolls that his mother had insisted upon buy for her little 'angel' were thrown against the wall, had their heads snapped off or worse. Those dress were destroyed; stained with grass and mud, torn from climbing trees, or ripped to shreds on purpose.

Eventually his father had interceded on his behalf. Sara was the only girl with three brothers. She was just being a Tom boy. She would outgrow it. The man had not right to make such promises to his wife. But Steve was thankful to his old man for the tiny bit of peace that his words had bought him.

Of course, once the teen years hit, it was not just his parents that he had to contend with. Damned but kids could be vicious. And the moment that these damned tits began to appear everything changed. All the guys that he had happily called friends while they ran and played during recess, suddenly could no longer tackle him. Worse yet, some of them actually, 'liked' her.

Steve had never had any interest in boys. Why should he? He was one after all. And he was not gay. Except for a long time that was what he feared he was: lesbian. Butch. Dyke. All he words came flowing like flood waters through his mind.

He remembered the time in high school when he had tried to kiss a girl. It had been their senior year, school was almost out and he had just turned eighteen. She was a couple of months older and had been one of his few friends. Her blonde hair was so soft. Her blue eyes so deep that he had thought they saw everything. But obviously they had not seen the truth about him. She was what other called a big girl, fat, but all Steve saw was soft curves in all the right places. Kristy had been her name and she had been his first crush.

One day after school, they had walked home together. It seemed only natural for him to carry her heavy back pack as well as his own. That was what gentlemen did for girls they liked, right? When they had gotten to her house, she had asked if he wanted to come and do some homework.

Looking back that was probably all she really wanted from him. As fucked as he was in the head over this shit, school had always been the one place he excelled. Top of his class, straight A's, four point oh average. The explanation was easy enough...books were his refuge. No one cared what he read. Biographies of sports heroes, nerdy science stuff or his favorite science fiction.

His particular favorite had been a series about these aliens who were neither male nor female...until they came of age. Then they choose. They actually fucking choose what they were. He dreamt of being able to do that. But that was not how it worked when you were human.

Anyway they had finished most of their homework. She was hugging one of those disgusting romance novels close to her big tits and running on and on about the hero in the story. Steve had leaned across and brushed his lips lightly across hers. Partly because of the way he was attracted to her, the light in her eyes when she talked about all that mushy shit. But also partly to just shut her up. She had drawn back quickly. She looked confused. But she had not really said anything about it. Just started to brattle on about the damned book again. They finished their homework quietly. Then he had walked the rest of the way home alone.

He had thought about it all night. Did he really like this girl? Why had he kissed her? By the next morning as he got ready for school he had dismissed the whole thing as a mistake. Hormones. An impulse. He had decided to talk to the girl, apologize, explain what had happened and ask her if they could just pretend it never happened.

Instead he had been greeted with side-way stares, whispers and even shouts of 'lesbo.' That day had been horrific. One of the worst of his life. She had told everyone...and they were all laughing at him. That night had been his first suicide attempt.

But not his last. He stared at the plain face in the mirror in disgust. He hated everything he saw there. The mouth was too small. The lips too full. The nose too thin. But most of all...where was the hair? What he would not give to grow even a couple face hairs. Instead of the smooth, soft, unblemished skin that greeted him each morning in the mirror. He had even tried shaving, thinking that it might encourage the tiny down hairs to thicken into a real beard. But it had just been another foolish dream.

The worst of course was going to the bathroom. Having to sit down to pee was humiliating. All other guys could just swing it out anywhere. Pee in the streets. Against the wall. Hell, write their names in the fucking snow with it if they wanted. But he had to actually sit down on the damned toilet and hear that tinkle tinkle of the dribble that passed for pissing with women.

He could not even piss like a man. He pounded the mirror with both fists. He cried out silently to the universe at the unfairness of it all. He hated his life. He hated this fucking body, this feminine body that he was trapped in. He hated his tits. He hated his face. He especially hated that fucking hole between his legs that should have been a pole. It was such an ironic simile for his existence...his vagina was like the hole that stretched across his very soul. He hated himself.

"Hey, group is about to start," cried the falsetto voice of the male-to-female tranny that ran this damned hell hole. Oh, and he hated his parents for locking him up here after his latest suicide attempt. He hated them for whatever gene or hormone imbalance or psychological damage they had done to him that crossed these wires in his brain somehow.

"Fuck," he sighed. But this was it. His one chance to have a real life. To convince these shrinks that he was not crazy just a man trapped inside a woman's body. If he could do that, then there was a chance that he could get the surgery. That he could become the man he always had been on the inside. But even that grated against him, why should he have to convince anyone about anything? No other man had to prove he was man...he smiled, well, not like this anyway.