Message-ID: <3445eli$9708281108@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "D. L. Johnson" Subject: TG: An Afternoon at Mother's by: Miss Deborah Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34058CC0.50A2@cnwl.igs.net> An Afternoon with Mother (A short essay by an effeminated male) Penned by: Miss Deborah (Debi) Leigh Johnson AKA: Miss Deborah-Anne Brown Confusion was the word that described my feelings better than anything else, as I sat here, in my mother's living room. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed the quiet old comfort of the big old country home that I had grown up in. Now, once again, I was at home, visiting with my mother. I'd been away from home for three years now. I has tried hard to stay away, because, I just knew what would happen if I went home. I had tried so very hard to try and live a semblance of a normal life, or at least what society depicts as being a normal life style. I really had tried. But I could not stop my inner cravings, a kind of ethereal lusting after this unique experience that I had only had at home, in my mother's house. I knew only to well, that if I came home, I would do just exactly what I was doing this minute. I did not want to, but I just knew that I loved those old feelings just too much to resist it. I sighed. It was about time that I faced the fact. My nature, my character, my essence if you will, did not want to resist this. It was what gave me peace, and made me feel like a whole person on the inside. It was the only thing that worked for me in that way. Knowing now that I had no real desire to resist my deepest desires, I plucked daintily at the ruffled hem that tickled my nyloned knee. Oh, how I loved this daintiness. It sent such a thrill of deep pleasure rippling through my psyche. I was also, for ever so many years, so very ashamed of my inner feelings. But, I loved this and I craved this feeling of being pretty. Nothing in my adult life had ever given me the same sense of joy as this feeling that I had learned to love. It is that self same feeling that a young lady learns to feel, as she learns to accept that everyone knows that she is pretty. My pretty dress is a light very pale orange colour. It has wide ruffled shoulder straps. It is most decidedly a sun dress, with a wide and really tight accentuating waist band. Again, I sighed with the joy of reminiscence of nostalgia. It had been fully three years since I had last allowed myself the pleasure of wearing it. I could hear my mother in the kitchen, humming in her off a beat way, the way that she hummed absentmindedly, when she was happy. I knew that I was the source of her joy today. I smiled and blushed, as I listened to her happiness, as she prepared a light lunch for us. Yes, now that I had at last broken down once again, and come back to y roots, so to speak, I too was as elated as my mother. I felt, for the first time in many months, that I had become myself again. It was me that was the source of joy to my mother, and the real me that was the completion of my own joy and peace, a rare experience of late for me. I shifted in the chair, as I wondered what I would look like to a stranger who might happen to pass the wide arch way entrance to the living room. Would he think I was pretty? Would he think I was a graceful young lady? I suspected that he would. I was very aware of the pressure of the high instep of the three inch heeled sandals I was wearing on my nyloned feet. Oh how I had missed that sensation. I felt constantly, the caress of my satin panties, the tight fingered grip of my corsetry, and the dainty jewellery that adorned my neck, wrists and ears. I could even smell my perfume. I sat in my lovely stupor, and I could sense the halo of curls my shoulder length hair that was framing my pixie face. I let my thighs move slightly, and I heard the little gentle rustle of lingerie. I loved how my silk slip rustled ever so delicately across my nyloned thighs. I knew that I was privileged to have grown up with such a loving and understanding mother as mine was. I sighed, almost loathe to move, lest I shatter the lovely reverie I had found myself in, as I stood and went to the kitchen. But, life went on, did it not? But, a woman's place is in the kitchen, as my loving and gentle mother was so fond of saying. I wanted to take my place by her side, where she'd taught me that women belong. The heels echoed on the hard wood flooring, as I made my swishing way into the room that my mother seemed to prefer of all the rooms in the big old house. In the kitchen, I dropped a ruffled pink apron over my head, and tied the big bow at the back. "Can I help out with anything, Mom?" "No princess, you just relax. Now, take off that apron, and get out of my kitchen. You should know by now that two women in a kitchen is a ready formula for trouble." I sighed, thankful, because I really did not want to work, but I did not want her to think that she'd raised a slothful child. "Okay." I obediently removed the apron, hung it on the back of the pantry door, and I went out onto the front porch to look once again at the beautiful scenery. I could never tire of this scene, I knew. The rolling farm land hills gave way to the foot hills in the not too distant future. I could see a doe and her fawn at the edge of the woods, wading in the shallow water of Miller's Creek. I breathed in deeply, the clean fresh air. I giggled a bit, as I placed my hands properly, to stop the slight teasing wind that was worrying at my skirt hems. I loved having to do such a feminine thing, to protect my modesty, lest some unknown and prying eyes behold the vision of a young lady with her skirts about her waist, demonstrating to the world what lovely under wear she had chosen for her day. I knew only too well from past experience, how swiftly these delicate clothes that I was wearing could be displaced by an errant breeze. I sighed. Such are the vagaries of a young girl's life. But I did not want to ever trade it. I resigned myself. I knew now, who and what I really was. I knew that I never wanted to be a boy again. Girl's clothes were just too exciting to me, to ever want to settle for anything less than pretty, again. I lay my head against the porch pillar, and I sighed with a delighted contentment. I was a lucky girl. I was thankful that my mother understood me and that it had been she who had insisted, almost from the moment I walked in the door, that I go up to my old room and change into something more natural for me. I had made the vow to myself that I would not become a girl again. I had really meant it to, when I was driving up from the city to visit with my mom. I really had. I was disappointed with my lack of resolve, because I had not resisted her suggestion. It was as though somehow, because it was her suggestion, that it was okay to do it. I had not offered her all of my reasons why I could not return to that kind of life. Rather, I had meekly made my way up the stairs. I blushed as I walked down the all too familiar hall way, and hesitated but a moment at the door that still had the pretty paper girl ballerina doll glued to it. I knew that once I had passed through that door way, that I'd willingly doff the masculinity that I found so cumbersome to try and maintain. And I knew that I would gratefully, once again, accept my feminine role in my mother's house. I was not astounded, though I should have been, when I entered the pretty smelling room. My room had not been changed though I'd been absent from it for three years. The lovely pink satin canopied bed, with its enormous frothy lace trimmed skirts, still dominated the room. Memories of sleeping in the girl's bed, wearing my pretty girl's night gowns flooded back into my mind. Oh how I had loved growing up as mommy's little girl. The familiar pictures of graceful ballet dancers, were still on the walls. It seemed that the colours had not even faded in the least. My beautiful dolls were seated prettily on the satin pillows of the bed, patiently awaiting the attentions of their long lost mother. The vanity in front of which I had spent hundreds of hours perfecting the usage of makeup, in front of which I'd spent most of my formative years, was still there, with all the necessary cosmetics to make me as feminine as I could be. It looked like I might have left it the day before. The utter femininity of this, the room in which I had grown up, was a room that was like a time capsule for me, catapulting my psyche back to those ever so lovely years. I'd hardly ever been a boy in this room. Three years ago, I had left this room, this home, in a desperate attempt to for once in my life, try to be a male. I'd enrolled in a near by college, and subscribed to a dormitory residence, and I had been a miserable failure. I'd been a failure, not in my marks. My academic accomplishments were excellent. I had received my degree, one year early of the proposed schedule. But, in my inability to adjust to living as a boy, I'd experienced disaster. Life on campus had been the worse there. Trying to live my life as the genetic boy I'd been cast into this world as, was a night mare. It was even worse than it had been growing up in this old household of eight brothers. My brothers all knew that I was a boy. But they also knew that my mother was to cast my lot in the role of their baby sister. How It Started When I was born, I was the last in a very long line of boys. I was the ninth to come along. My mom fell into a deep state of depression, from what I was told by my siblings, because I had not been the little girl that she had so desperately longed for. To add to the situation, I was also very small and delicate, most unlike all the boys who had gone before me in the family. My mother could have no more children, and, she convinced my father somehow, that he should agree to letting her dress me as her little daughter, for just the years before school. I do not know why he agreed to her plan, lest it was the only way the he perceived of, to help her through her depressions. The die was cast. Before I had stopped suckling, I was wearing pink and I was being treated most unlike the brothers in the house hold. Unbeknownst to my father, my mom would go to the barn once a week, and get a small jar of the hormone creams that were used on the cows. She'd read that they could make a man child more feminine, and she was determined to have herself a girl child in me. The results of her activities were far reaching. By the by the time that I reached the age of seven, when the plan was that I should become a boy like my brothers, and that I should have joined my brothers in school, my pretty hair had grown long enough for me to sit on it. It was most awkward to me. Also, my facial features and bone structure were not that of a boy either. I had a delicate frame. I had been raised to view myself as a delicate pretty flower. I still did not even suspect that I was a boy. The brothers often snickered as though they knew a secret that they would not tell me, but I learned that on pain of my mother's wrath, they had been sworn to secrecy concerning my natural sex. In truth, I had considered myself to be oh so lucky that I did not have to wear those horrible rough clothes that the boys were made to wear. I prayed every night, thanking the deity in heaven, that I had been fortunate enough to have been born a girl. I could not figure out what could possibly make boys like being like that. It boggled my mind when ever I thought about it. I knew though, that they really liked being boys. They liked the clothes. They liked to feel the strain on their muscles when they competed with each other. They liked being outside most of the time, helping with the farm work. My brothers knew about me, I learned, but they did not tell me. I grew up, being treated like a delicate and helpless little girl in a house full of men, under a special umbrella of protection and favour, of a rather domineering mother. Because of my obvious feminine orientation, my father accepted the fact that I was more of a girl than a son. My father loved me. He readily admitted that he had never seen me wearing boy's clothing. And because he knew that were I to ever attempt to assume a male role in the small town that we lived in, that I would be living in hell, he let my mom enrol me in school as a girl. My bothers disliked the favouritism that was poured out on me. My mother called me her little princess, and she made sure that the boys treated me like I was a princess to. I did not know any other way to live. I did not do chores, like they did. I was allowed to stay in the house all the time, and help my mother in her housework. I was encouraged to wear pretty and soft feminine clothing, unlike them. Mom encouraged me to learn how to run a home, to love to read, to learn how to paint and to appreciate fine music. We were not a rich family, but I was the only one allowed to take music lessons. She encouraged the artistic nature that I had, with special classes in poetry, prose and artwork. By the time I had reached the age of fifteen, I could make my own dresses, lingerie, and I could cook, crochet, needlepoint and knit with a fair amount of alacrity. I always favoured pretty and delicate designs. Because my brothers resented the special treatment that I got, I did not get along with them at all. They would not let me join their games or anything like that. In fact, whenever I did try to horn my way into one of their games, mom always got very mad at me, and made me stop playing boy's games. As a result, if I did not spend time with my mother, I had to spend it all alone. I guess that was why I did spend so much time with her. I wanted to be just like her, she was so competent and pretty. She epitomised everything that I thought was good in a person, and I wanted to grow up and be a house wife and mother, just like she was. It just seemed that she was the wisest person in the whole world, to me, and she was greatly respected by the men in the house. I grew up thinking that the womanly role in a home was the most valued role in family life, and I just wanted to do every thing that I could, to be just like her. I never knew why, but she continued having me rub that special skin cream into my chest area every night, for as long as I lived at home. The results of applying this cream, was that I had a very small genital development, a distinctly rounded and girlish breast and hip development, and thank fully almost no hair on my body, and my voice never changed. I have still not started to shave, at the age of eighteen. Growing Up I learned the startling truth that I was a boy, when I was thirteen years of age. One of my brothers, Bobby, about three years older than I, started to become very friendly with me, shortly after I started to develop my breasts. It always made me feel kind of special that one of my brothers took notice of me, even if it was to ogle my chest most of the time. Then one afternoon, a very hot summer afternoon, Bobby and I found ourselves all alone at home, for the entire afternoon. As per usual, I was laying on my bed, in a shorts and halter, sandals, and my hair was pulled back in a ponytail. I was laying on my tummy, reading a romantic mystery novel. Bobby came into my room, and sat on the bed. He did not say anything, but I sensed somehow, that this was going to be something different than usual. It was. First he sat on my bed, and asked me how I was doing. I told him that I was doing okay. He smiled. He liked that. Then he reached over, and very gently, he put his hand on my bum, and gently rubbed my cheeks. It felt so nice. It was certainly the nicest that any of my brothers had ever been to me. His hand moved around my bum, delightfully slowly. His hand felt so big, so rough, and very muscular. It made me feel very small and weak. I knew that he should not be touching me like that, but I liked it. I could feel the heat of his hand, right through my shorts and my panties. I liked the way he was making me feel. I felt like I was attractive to him, and that he really liked me. I waited to see what he would do next. His fingers fondled my bum cheeks for a few minutes, then they went down between my legs, and gently rubbed my private. It got hard under his finger's manipulations. His fingers felt so big and strong, that it made me feel like he could break my little private right off if he wanted to. I was having feelings that I had never had before. I moaned, and rolled over onto my back. As I rolled over, his hand caressed my thigh, and came to rest on the front of my shorts. He sighed and moved his hand up to gently caress my breasts. I could not help it. I was lost in these new emotions. I closed my eyes and let him do whatever he wanted to. I felt so weak, and so vulnerable to him. I liked be liked by him. His fingers gently rolled my erect nipples through the thin satin of my training bra cups, driving me wild. Then, his hand went back down to the front of my thin red shorts and began again, to rub my private, through my shorts and panties. I could not help myself. I was burning up with feelings that I had never had before. I shuddered uncontrollably, and pushed myself up into his hand. Then, the most glorious sensation washed over me, as I began to release something into my panties. I felt like I was on a pink cloud, and it took many minutes for me to settle back to normal. Bobby's hand stayed there gently applying pressure, till he saw that I was returning to normalcy. "Bobby, why did you do that?" "Did you like that, Deborah?" "I... I adored it. Can that happen all the time?" "Lots of times, princess. (Everyone in the family called me princess) I just wanted to see if you would act like a boy or a girl." "Why wouldn't I act like a girl?" "Because pretty princess, you really are a boy. In fact, you are the only one who does not know it. You, little lady, are a guy." "I am not." But, I knew, deep down within me, that it was true. I do not know how I knew it, but I knew that what he was saying was true. "Listen, Deborah, you are a boy. I'll prove it to you. You have a cock, just like mine. I just jacked you off, just like any boy gets off." With that, he stood up, and took off all of his clothes. He stood totally naked in front of me. Except for the hair, and the flat chest, he was a lot like me. He also had an erection. I was fascinated by it. It was ugly and horrible, but I was fascinated. I wanted to feel it. I wanted to kiss it. I wanted to suck on it. I was amazed, as I had never had thoughts or feelings like that before. I could not take my eyes off it. "I bet you feel like a girl, though, don't you?" "What do you mean?" "I bet you would like to feel it, maybe give me a blow job, eh? That is what real girls like to do, you know." "What is a blow job, Bobby?" "It's where a girl takes a guy's cock into her mouth and sucks him, till he cums. Then she swallows it. I bet you'd like to give me a blow job, just like any other girl, even if you are a guy, wouldn't you princess?" I flushed with shame. I knew I was a boy, and Bobby wanted me to act like a girl with him. But, I wanted to. As I looked at his cock, I desperately wanted to kiss it, to feel it inside of my mouth. I took my eyes from the enthralling thing. I knew that he would let me suck it, if I told him that I wanted to. "Yes, I would, Bobby," I heard myself saying in a quiet subdued voice. I wanted to be a girl for him, just like his other girl friends. "Okay, get off of the bed and kneel down in front of me. Good Girl. Now, first wrap your hand around it... No princess... Like this. That's right. Oh, your pretty little hand feels so nice on me. Now, see this spot right here, under the head? Well, I want you to rub it with your thumb... Oh yeah... Just exactly like that. That's right princess. You are a natural." It was so very hot, hard and yet, it was satiny smooth. It jerked wildly in my hand when I touched it the way that he wanted me to touch it. I liked making it react like that. I looked up and saw a look of total bliss on Bobby's face. I wondered if he felt like the way that he had made me feel. "Now, Deborah, you have to kiss it, and lick the head, kind of like a lollipop." I planted some little kisses all over the dry head of his cock. I liked his smell. I did not know that guys smelled like that. It was nice. Then I touched it with the tip of my tongue, as he had instructed me to do. When I did it, he nearly screamed with what I was making him feel. I loved having such a control over him. I felt like I was the boss over him. "Oh... Baby... You are one fine little fox, you are. Put it inside of your mouth now Deborah." I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and I leaned forward. I felt the dry skin move slowly over my sensitive lips. I loved how it felt as it moved into me, filling my mouth up fuller than it have ever been filled up before. I felt the big head of his cock bulging out my cheeks, and I loved the feel. He was salty, and I liked that taste. I looked up at him, hoping that I was doing it the right way for him. "Ahhh... Deborah... You are a very good cock sucker... Ahhhh... Now, pretty one, I want you to open your mouth wide as you can, and take it as far inside of your mouth as you can. Do it slowly princess.... Take it as far in as you can... That's my girl." Soon, I had it so far inside of me, that my nose was in his sweaty smelling pubic hair. He was jerking and throbbing in my mouth. I liked this. I liked the way I was making him react. I felt kind of like I was controlling him. "Now, Baby... What I want you to do, is, keep just the head inside of your mouth, and rub it the way you did before, with your thumb, okay?" I did what he told me to do, and in a matter of only seconds, he was moaning. He grabbed my head and drove himself into me, nearly choking me, and filling me with his stuff. I tried swallowing, as he told me that was what girls did with it. I kind of liked the texture, it was so thick and creamy. It was a bit salty, but, I liked the taste of it. I liked mostly though, knowing that I was doing to my brother, what his girl friends did to him. I was being all girl. I kept him in my mouth, till he was drained, and he nearly fell on my bed. I lay down again. "Bobby?" "Yeah, Deborah?" "Am I really a boy?" "Yeah, but, you are the prettiest and foxiest boy I ever saw. You really turn me, you are so foxy. I've been waiting for weeks to get to be alone with you." "You think that I am really pretty?" "Oh yeah, Babe. You are gorgeous." "Thank you." "So, was I right? Did you like sucking my cock?" "Yes, I did. I can not explain it, but, I felt...right about it." "Yeah... Well... The old lady turned you into a fairy, and I guess that is what you are. If you like sucking cocks, you're probably as queer as a three dollar bill. You can't do anything about that, so I guess you just have to learn to enjoy doing like a girl does it. You will probably never be a real guy. But, I got to tell you, Deborah, there are guys out there, guys like me, who really get turned on by having sex with a guy, when they are cute little things, more like a girl than they are like a boy. If you can meet a guy like me, he'll treat you like a royal queen. He'll treat you a lot better than guys usually treat their girlfriends. Hell, if you find the right one, he'll even want to marry you and everything." I looked at him. I realised for the very first time in my life, that my brother Bobby, was a cute guy. I wanted him to kiss me. Instead, he got dressed and left my room. I did not get to be alone with him till nearly a week later. When it happened, I had gone swimming at the old gravel pit on our farm. It was late in the afternoon. I had thought that I was alone. I'd laid a towel out on the grass to get some sun. Because I was alone, I had untied the bra of my bikini, and was enjoying the feel of the hot sun on my sensitive breasts. Suddenly, I heard a soft quiet voice. "God, you are so beautiful, Deborah." I opened my eyes and saw Bobby standing a few feet away, staring at me. I wondered if he liked my breasts. I hoped so. I smiled to let him know that I was glad that he was there with me. He came over and slowly knelt down, then, he lay beside me. I felt entirely natural as he gathered me into his arms and began kissing me. My arms encircled his shoulders and neck, and I hungrily sucked his tongue into my ravenous mouth. I craved his loving. His fingers were callused and rubbed my delicate breasts roughly, but I did not want him to stop it, even if it did hurt a bit. Bobby was a strong young man, and I felt very small beside him. I knew that he could do anything that he wanted to me, and I would not be able to resist him. I loved the feeling of helpless dependence that I had, on his good intentions towards me. I liked knowing that I was safe with him, because he liked me. He then did something that drove me absolutely wild. I screamed it felt so beautiful. He lowered his head, and began kissing, sucking, then biting my nipples. His other hand went down and untied the straps to my bikini panties, and was soon tugging them down over my hips and pulling them off my feet. I was totally naked and helpless as my brother kissed my breasts, driving me incapable of even desiring to resist his advances. I loved the feeling of being naked and vulnerable, as his hands roamed over me. Bobby was muscular and he probably had twice the body mass that I had. I was his for the taking. He knew it. I knew that I craved this feeling. This was the same feeling that every girl has when she is with a strong guy. He stood up and smiled down at me, making me feel very submissive to him, and then he removed all of his clothing. He was beautiful. Then lay beside me on my towel. Hungrily, my hands reached for that gorgeous cock of his, as he kissed me all over, returned to my breasts for a while, then he kissed down to my crotch. He reversed himself beside me. He was kissing and licking my inner thighs. I could no more resist sucking his cock than I could stop shooting up, had I been a heroine addict. I grabbed at it and sucked it deeply into my self. He shifted so that I was laying under him, on my back, and his legs were astride my thin chest. He drove himself down into my mouth, and I lovingly received him, craving that cum of his, again. I knew that he was fucking me, and I felt like a fuckee, and it was wonderful. When he took my little thing into his mouth, he drove himself down into me, unloaded a huge load of his cum. I do not know how I managed to not suffocate, but, I swallowed till I had all of my reward from him. I exploded into his mouth at the same time. The afternoon wore on as we lay beside each other, loving each other. When my emotions had stabilised again, I wondered if he could shoot it again for me. I reached over, and soon had that pretty little thing hardening in my mouth again. I made him cum again for me. We walked home, holding hands, like a girl and boy friend. He made me promise that I would not tell anyone else about our love affair. Just before we came in sight of the house, I went on by myself, and he took another route. We did not want our parents to find out about us. About three weeks later, I was awakened one night, by the feel of someone crawling into my bed with me. It was Bobby. He told me that he wanted to fuck me. He said that when a girl loves a guy, that she lets him fuck her. He kissed me, put his hand inside the panties of my baby dolls, to see if I was hard, to prove that I loved him, and told me that was the proof that I loved him. I asked what I should do. He told me that it might be painful, at first. He took off my panties, and told me to put them in my mouth. It seemed pretty strange, but, I did what he told me to do. I then rolled over onto my tummy. I wanted to feel my brother shooting inside of me. I loved the feeling of his hot hairy body in my satin sheeted bed, rubbing roughly over me. He then got up, and I could see in the faint light, that it looked like he was putting something on his cock. He then got back into the bed, positioned himself on top of me, and I felt his greased cock poking at my bum cheeks. He reached down and found the little hole, and he pushed his weight onto my back, and drove himself into me, but it was very slow and gentle, and I knew that he did not want to hurt me. I screamed. The panties in my mouth deadened the sound, but the pain was horrible. Because of his weight on me, I could do nothing but receive him as he moved in and out of me. I was completely helpless. Strangely, even though it meant that I was having so much pain, something about being helpless like that under him, was terribly exciting to me. I lay under his weight, unable to do anything but to receive him into me. I was glad to learn that once my bum had gotten conditioned to the feel of his big cock inside of me, and the way he made it move in me, the pain started to subsided. I lay there, my arms under my head, Bobby's weight on my back, and his lips were kissing my cheeks and my shoulders, telling me what a sexy girl I was, and how he was so turned on by me that he had a hard on all day long. He told me that he thought about me constantly. He told me that I gave him blue balls, which were very painful, because I was such a hot little fox. I was flattered. Gradually, it began to feel good, as he moved inside of me. I was liking being a girl and getting herself fucked by a hunk. Back To The Present I shook off these thoughts of how my brother had truly made an effeminate lover out of me, when I heard my mother setting the dining room table. I had struggled for social acceptance at school, but I had not met anyone on campus who was very accepting of such a feminine man as I was. I had enrolled as a man, but I knew within a week that had been a mistake. Men out there in general society just do not have delicate pretty features, hairless bodies and breasts, like I did. It had been horrible and lonely, but I had learned, and I had gotten my degree. I had gotten it so early, because I had little else to do but to master my studies. And I now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could never adjust to living as a man. It was not in me. I did not want to. When I saw masculine men, I saw everything I admired, in a man, and would hate to see in myself. I hoped that somehow, I'd meet a man like my brother Bobby. He had said that there were lots of guys like him, who like girl boys like me. I hoped that he knew what he was talking about. My degree would enable me to work in an office, for that I was thankful. I could not bear the idea of having to do any kind of grunt work for a living. The very idea terrified me. I was seriously thinking that maybe I should get a sex change, so that I could become a woman legally. I entered the house again to those wonderful aromas that only loving others are able to conjure. I smiled at her, as she seated me at the table, surprised that I remembered how to sit in a dress, without even thinking about it. "Deborah, you sit here, Dear. Now, tell me all about how horrible that time as a man was for you....I just can't imagine why anyone who is as feminine as you are would even attempt such foolishness. You are a girl, and a lady. You were not raised to compete like a man. I hope that you learned that?" "Yes mother." I grinned. I loved being back at home, and being accepted for who I was. I am a girl, with some of the attributes of the male and the soul of a lady. My mother smiled. "You just concern about getting your batteries recharged, then we will go and see a friend of mine about getting you a nice secretarial position..." "Yes mother..." Mother knows best, for me any ways. Then End ***** 1 10 -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /