Mark

Saturday May 26, 1973 was a bright sunny spring morning. I had just turned 6. Actually my real birthday was the day before but Friday being a school day meant that a real celebration would be held the day after the real birthday.

It would be a day when I would see my cousins and my favorite aunts and uncles. There would be cake and soda. It would be fun.

In the mean time I had some toys to entertain me. One of my favorites was a Spanish Galleon made from molded plastic and painted brown. The blue pile carpet allowed me to really put my imagination to work. My ship sailed on the high seas carrying treasure and avoiding the pirates. I had another boat, one with a single triangle shaped sail, that served as my pirate ship.

My sister, at that time 8 had her toys. Her favorite was a doll house complete with furniture and some over sized dolls. She had also her Ken and Barbie.

I had the sense even then, though no one could know any different, that I wanted to be exactly like Jennifer, a girl. I walked toward her closet that Saturday morning and picked out her Speechless flutter sleeve dress with bow and collar disco dot pattern and put it on. I liked how it felt. Dressed I walked back into the living room where my sister was playing.

She looked up and began giggling. I said nothing.

"I wanna be a girl too."

As though she understood perfectly Jennifer stopped giggling.

"Kids... Mark, Jenny breakfast. It's pancakes."

I followed my sister out to the kitchen and the reaction was not a good one.

"Mark we don't wear dresses. Boys wear boys clothes."

"Yeah but mom girls wear girl's clothes," I pleaded.

"Go change!"

I walked back toward my bedroom forced to change the outfit that just felt right.

Twenty Five years Later

By this point into my life I had been on HRT for the past nine months. Spirocortoline and Estradiol prescribed by the endocrinologist Dr. Tom Watson were having an effect. I had lost a considerable amount of weight , mostly muscle mass that I once had as a boy. My hips had rounded and my waistline seemed to shrink. Despite this feminine development I had not yet come out to any one outside the family but tried to pass as a boy.

I had just come home from work back to my suburban Los Angeles. apartment and was changing into my girl clothes. I put on low rise jeans which by now were a better fit than the pants I just pulled off. I slipped my feet into Covington Layla shoes left at he back of my bed. I put on my favorite 3/4 sleeve lavender tunic.

My room mate, a T girl named Melanie whom I had met a support group, had also just come in the door.

"Stephanie," she said looking straight at me, "how was work today?"

"OK," I replied but without conviction.

"Hon It's probably not my business but maybe it's time you come out."

She's right I thought. There are reasons to come out of the closet. People are starting to call me maam. Colleagues made jokes about my girlish appearance.

Long before HRT I had begun laser hair removal on my face. The carbon dioxide laser zapped my skin killing follicles by the dozens with each application while I relaxed in the comfortable chair that reminded me of the dentist office. Before my first visit to my endo I had gone to the local laser hair removal clinic four times.

"Why are you afraid?"

I knew there was really no reason to be in the closet. My job, computer programmer for Electronic Arts is gender neutral. It's not like I lift heavy crates in a warehouse although at one time I could have very easily. A name change was simply a matter of legal documents and money

"You should come out."

"You're right," I conceded.

"What is your therapist telling you?"

Dr. Janice Smitson, herself a male to female transgender, had come highly recommended. The forty something year old blond educated at Rice University had been my confident and friend now for the past year. She knew my past life and also my present troubles and concerns.

I had spent a life time trying to convince myself that I was a man. Right out of high school I had enlisted in the marines. From 1985 to 1989 I saw myself as one of the few, the proud. I had always gone to gyms. There were days when I had tried to convince myself that I was never a six year old boy who wore Jennifer's dress and wanted to continue wearing it.

Melanie had always enjoyed cooking and had become good at it. She began making a pizza with recently purchased and risen dough.

"Steph what kind of topping do you want?"

Being Italian I am partial to garlic and oil. Quickly chose a long time favorite.

"Pesto," I answered without a second thought.

At 7 45 the following morning after an almost sleepless night spent worrying I walked into the office building of Electronic Arts. This was my first time going to my work place dressed as a woman. I wore black slacks and Covington belted fashion silky stretch blouse.

I was nervous. Oh my god I thought. What if it makes them find an excuse to let me go that they can say is not discrimination? If they do fire me I would never be able to prove that transition is the reason.

I should be positive I thought. After all writing video games is a skill that may not be easy to find. Still I began to sweat just a little. If someone from my support group were here I could talk with them.

Jack Tripp, the manager of software development, had been with the company for six years. As I look back on those years I recalled that performance reviews had always been good. That should work in my favor I thought.

But there were other issues. I knew that I was tiring of coworkers stares at me. Being a girl in DRAG was not working for me.

Jack had always been a sociable type, an easy going person. I even knew something of his home life.

The time had come. Taking a deep breath I walked into his office.

Jack looked up at me from his desk.

"Mark?"

The best way, I thought, is simply to say it.

"I'm transgendered."

"I thought you were changing. I was starting to wonder when you were gonna come to work wearing a dress."

I giggled. "I guess from today going forward I wear skirts or slacks."

"So what should I call you?"

"Stephanie works fine for me."

"My youngest daughter is Stephanie. She just turned 16."

"You have another daughter?"

"You're thinking of Karen."

I nodded.

"Listen while I'm in here let me run this idea past you."

"Ok," he responded.

"I want to make my characters morph into beasts or birds."

He laughed. "I like that, but don't forget you've got a deadline coming up. It's due in two weeks whatever you and your team develop."

I left Jack Tripp's office feeling very good. I'm so glad he's ok with it I thought. Wait a minute. It doesn't effect his private life or the quality of my work. Why shouldn't he be ok with it?

I soon returned to my cubicle, opened my work and began coding. The lead artist on the project, Sally Miles, came bye about an hour later.

"Let me show you what I have." She was referring to her setting and character designs which she loaded. The idea to have the characters morph originated with her. I looked up.

"I love that blouse." The remark was woman to woman not sarcastic.

"Thank you," I answered , "I just bought it on sale at Sears."

Having exchanged pleasantries I viewed her ideas.

Having already come out to a manager made coming out to others just a little easier.

"I'm transgendered," I said looking over my tuna sandwich on rye bread.

Rick Henry looked at me saying nothing. Sally looked up from my left and across the table and turned her head toward me. Ed James finally spoke up.

"That's nice." His tone was rather flat and unemotional.

I guess this was time for sharing information. Rick spoke.

"I have a brother who is gay."

"A girly boy?" I asked.

"He doesn't act it at all. In fact he plays on a softball team out of San Francisco and lifts weights."

At five walking out to my white Saturn in the middle of the driveway I knew that it had been a good day. My co workers all seemed to take the news well. They're intelligent I thought so I suppose they already had it scoped out. I guess they were all just waiting for me to admit it I thought.

The video game called "Monsters of the Id" was thoroughly checked by the gang in quality control and submitted for publishing. But before publishing there was to be another little project.

Jack Tripp came into my cubicle. "Good morning Stephanie," he said.

"Good morning," I replied, "I hope this sells."

"Girl I think it's great. I gave my nephew a promo copy. He flipped over it. He went bonkers."

"I went bonkers trying to write it."

"Sales wants to make a download demo. It should offer fifteen days then abort."

I sighed. What this really meant was another assignment had come my way.

"How long do I have?"

"Three weeks," came the reply.

That said I began work on the demo. It was coming easily. I simply referred back to the code which was already there in my PC. I just needed to write a routine to count the number of times the program started.

Things were going well on the home front also. Melanie and I had been watching an old movie when my door buzzer sounded.

"I'll get it," I said and walked toward the door.

Jennifer was standing in the doorway.

"Hi sis," I said, "come in."

"Hi Mel," she said

"Jen Hi."

"Hey I bought you something," she said handing me a shopping bag.

"I like this sis. Thank you so much."

"A girl needs to have a proper hand bag."

Beaming, I dumped all my stuff from my old handbag and began putting it all into the new one.

"I love this!"

My sister stayed for just over an hour untill the conversation was exhausted.

"I really should go," she said.

I began to think about sex that night as I had so many nights before. It didn't seem to matter to me whether partner was male or female. Melanie looked attractive to me, but so did a few genetic girls at the office. She knew it. At the same time the guy in apartment 5b was looking hot.

Ted Sharps stood 5 foot eleven with blue eyes and a shaved head, broad lips a straight nose on a rectangular shaped head. As he sat stretched by the swimming pool on the chase lounge I admired his muscular body. I knew as long as I wore a bathing suit bottom I could hide my penis.

He had been living across the corridor for four months now. During that time we had been passing acquaintances saying hello outside the apartment.

Despite my penis, I considered myself a straight girl. At that moment I was a straight girl having a fantasy. The object of that fantasy was lying within five feet.

After a few seconds a chat started.

"Hi Stephanie, nice day," he said.

" It is. You were away for a while."

"I was on a vacation in Hawaii."

"Oh nice," I replied.

He proceeded to describe the island and had my attention. It was mostly his body that had my attention.

"Listen Stephanie," he said after a while, "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go for ice cream cone."

"When?"

"Now," he replied

"Sure," I said smiling, "I'll change and I'll be right out."

As Melanie and I walked back into our apartment I looked at her. She looked at me. We were both thinking the same thing.

"I think he likes you."

At that moment I felt like an adolescent school girl. My body was showing signs of development. In my new life I was about to fall in love for the first time. Mark had dated several girls. With a new girlfriend every two months he was no different than any other teen boy.

We came to his favorite ice cream shop off main street. Inside a line stretched from the door step to the counter. As we inched our way toward the counter romantic feelings welled up inside me. I closed my hand around his hand.

"I've been here before. I love their chocolate chip and their pistachio.

"Which do you want?"

"Espresso chip," I answered.

As we sat by the patio furniture eating I began to day dream. Ted recalled a story.

"Dad would take Mom out for ice cream when they were dating. No matter what Mom ordered dad got her strawberry. One day she ordered butterscotch. She hates that flavor. That's what he got her."

"I'm so glad you don't take after him." I giggled.

"He used to get her what he likes."

In the privacy of my bedroom Ted and I kissed for the first time. My hands placed around his waist linked just above his buttocks. He held me around my lower torso just at the curve. His hands linked behind me.

Mark had put himself in the girl's place many times though he could never express it. It was just part of what his subconscious knew.

He opened my jeans. As my jeans slowly slid down my legs he caressed my upper thigh. My pants fell to my feet and he took my panties. The moment of truth had come.

" Oh wow," Ted remarked, "It's a cock. This is really cool!"

I felt terrific at that instant as Ted's hand closed around my penis pulling the skin forward and back. Our lips met again and now our mouths fell open. Two tongues licked each other.

Ted was caressing my back and kissing me from the base of my neck up to my cheek. His hands slid across my upper body over the gradual curve of my waist and down my thigh. His hardened member slid into the anal opening stretching it. It began to hurt a little. I grunted.

The throbbing seven inch member pushed deeper inside me. As it slid forward and back inside me I moaned softly. A more pleasurable sensation didn't exist.

"Don't stop honey! Don't stop!"

Ted had finished after a few moments and rolled onto hs back. I rolled on top lying face down and looking straight into his eyes.

"I've been curious for a long time about how it would feel to bum fuck."

The remark was soft spoken.

"How did you like it?"

"It felt good."

"I thought it felt awesome."

"How did all this happen?"

"Even as a small child I knew. I started hormones just a little more than nine months ago."

"I'd say you're developing nicely."

"Thank you," I replied, "a week ago I went to work dressed for the first time."

"You could have knocked me over with a feather. I really thought you were genetic."

That is a tremendous complement I thought. But then I realized he had never seen me in boy clothes.

"Thank you," I replied and kissed him.

"You're welcome."

I felt like it was time to tell him more.

"I was born Mark in 1967. The first time I put on a dress I was six. My parents didn't approve so I did all I could to repress it. Mark dated a bunch of girls during high school, then he did four years in the marines 1985-1989."

"The marines," he replied, "impressive."

"Yeah well," I replied, "I was not ready back then to accept myself as a woman."

"I was in the marines."

"What outfit?"

"First battalion seventh," he answered proudly.

"I was in first battalion second," I replied.