The first part of the story is basically autobiographical. I hope no one has to go through some of this, but I know that I am not alone. I apologize for the early lack of dialogue, but it was the only way I could tell the story.

 

Do Over

by Tanya Lynn

 

I couldn't believe it. I thought I had hidden my stash of clothes so well, but I watched as my mom dragged it out of the attic. She was royally pissed. Some of it was hers- the earliest stuff. She was crying as she saw a bra, a couple of pairs of panties, and a couple of skirts that she couldn't figure out where they had disappeared to a long time ago. I had gotten other stuff that I had picked up when visiting the houses of friends, etc. that she didn't even recognize. She asked, "what do you have this stuff for? What do you do with it?" I couldn't answer. She finally took it downstairs and said, "wait till your father gets home", and pulled the door shut.

I lay on my bed and cried. How could I tell her the truth? I was 16, and convinced that I was a girl on the inside. I had no idea how to tell anyone that. This was 1975, and I had lived a life where anyone who wore women's clothes was a freak. There wasn't an Internet to go on and find out I wasn't alone.

My father came home and went ballistic. He yelled at me to tell him what was happening, but I could say nothing. He actually hit me out of frustration. I had been so withdrawn from them that they had been scared to death. I had turned to alcohol in my frustration. My Dad now said, "get your ass in bed and don't even think of getting out until the morning". I cried and vowed to survive this somehow, even if I had to bury who I was. I managed to struggle through high school, but when I graduated two years later, I was already using pot and drinking heavily. With no future (or so it seemed), I decided to do what so many of my generation did and left home to hitchhike around the country and "find" myself.

I did this for years, and even lived for a time off of the streets until a friend from the streets asked me to store her stuff for her. She and I were about the same size, but I tried not to give into temptation. But, even after years, the real me emerged. When I was young, I had been really overweight, and when I lost the weight, I still kept fleshy breasts. I could wear one of her bras fairly well, and the rest of her stuff fit me pretty nicely. She got thrown in jail for a few months, so I had free reign with her clothes and was in heaven at home. But, one night I didn't have the drapes closed all of the way and a mutual friend saw me. He never said a word to me, but the minute she got out of jail, she showed up and called me all sorts of names and took her stuff. She spread it around and I soon left town even though it meant returning to the streets.

A few years later, I finally got off of the streets for good. I was convinced that I no longer was a girl and was safe. I was working as a security guard and living in a studio apartment, but my life still felt empty. Then, I walked into the apartment complex's laundry room and saw that someone had left some women's clothing on the changing table. I didn't touch it, but all of the old feelings returned. I lived right next to the room, so I could see that no one came and got it. I finally took it with my own when I did laundry. They were a little tight, but I finally managed to get the panties on. Luckily, the skirt had an elastic waistband. But, the bra wouldn't fit. Then, I remembered a Big Lots nearby that I had sneaked a lot of looks at the bras in the underwear section. They were open till 11, and it was my night off, so I went in at 10:30 and started looking at bras. I found a couple of 36B lined ones, which I seemed to remember I would fill out. I even saw some panties a size larger than the ones I had taken from the laundry and got them as well. I got a lot of stares from the few others there, but I didn't care. I even saw a blouse that would go with the skirt and bought it. Thank god for closeout prices!

I went home and tried everything on and was in heaven again. The only problem was that the blouse was a little tight. I had some money saved up and would go through all of it in the next week or so finding a few outfits in the right sizes but didn't care. I was finally able to be me again. My only problem was that I hated being stuck in my little studio apartment while I was dressed.

Then, I realized that I was the only guard at a huge office building that was empty most of the time I worked. If I was careful, I could spend a lot of time dressed there at work. I chose an outfit the first time that would be easy to get on and off if I had to answer the door and spent a 12-hr. shift I had to work on Christmas by myself dressed and loving it. I started spending Sunday, the deadest day of the week, dressed. Occasionally I would have to change fast to go and answer the door, but it seemed to be going well.

Then, I guess I got cocky. There was an empty floor to the building where I had found a stash place for my stuff. I figured why carry it back and forth on the bus everyday. I wish I had paid more attention. I went to my stash one day and thought it looked like it had been moved, so I took it home and didn't dress at work for a few weeks. Then, I figured if someone had found it, they would have told security to watch out for someone on the floor and I would have known. I decided to chance it again. I guess I wanted to be able to wear my clothes at work that I was willing to take crazy chances.

It was another Sunday, and I was sitting in the empty office wearing a maroon sweater and black skirt with red roses on it over a black bra and black satin panties with black tights. I was reading a book and not paying enough attention when suddenly I heard the main door to the offices open. Damn- only building management had the key! I tried to think of where to hide. There was no way to try to pretend to be someone else- I couldn't wear a wig or makeup to work because of the quick change. I was in the process of trying to change when one of the maintenance staff came around the corner. I was there pulling the sweater over my head and showing off my bra when he said "just as I thought! I figured you were some kind of freak". Something made me pull the sweater down- at least I felt more covered that way. He shocked me by pulling out a camera and snapped a couple of pictures. He then said, "I think you know what comes next". I couldn't help myself- I started to cry. I had started to realize that as I came into being a woman, at some point I would want to be with a man. I had even had some wonderful conversations with a few guys on the web. But, I never dreamed of it being this bad. He said, "bitch, get over here and unzip my pants". I was at a loss. Somehow, I was paralyzed with fear, although I had survived far worse on the streets. Helpless, I got on my hands and knees, and then-

Suddenly I was back in my bedroom and 16 again. My dad had just stormed out after hitting me and my mom was about to throw my stuff out. And then, I realized someone was sitting on the bed next to me. She kind of looked like my mom, but older. She had the most understanding eyes. I asked her, "who are you and where did you come from"? She said, "I'm you, but not from that horrible future you just saw. I am here to tell you that you must go and tell your mom and dad the truth." I said, "but they'll think I'm a freak! They'll disown me or something!" She said, "don't you think they love you more than that? Besides, how could it be worse than what you just saw?" She handed me a tissue and I dried my eyes, but by the time she was gone. I didn't know if I was losing my mind, or what, but knew I had to take a chance. I got up from the bed and opened my door. I could hear them downstairs trying to figure it out. Taking a deep breath, I started down the stairs.

To be continued

  

  

  

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