The Story of Sissy

by Lady Katherine

 

I remember a time when the bloom was on the cotton.
When are hearts chased the clouds like the swallow on the wing.
When our cares and our woes were soon forgotten.
Just sitting on the front porch swing.

Oh we sat every Sunday and watched the married ladies
and we dream of white dresses and church bells in the spring.
And they talk and paint their nails while they let the little girls hold their babies.
Just sitting on the front porch swing.

The married ladies

 

I t is three o'clock in the morning on a warm summer night. The soft grunts of our animals can be heard from our new barn that was put up five years ago across the road. My husband is asleep upstairs in our bedroom. While a soft breeze ruffles my long pink night gown. As I contemplate the prospect of my daughter having her first child and I would be a grandmother. I could not believe I was 40 now. All the years had gone by so fast. It seemed like a dream. But there I was sitting on the front pouch swing of my home of twenty years. How did it all happen? How did it come about the changes in my life? I remember back to where it all started back in another state a different time a different sex.

I was born a cute little boy with blonde hair and dimples. I don't remember that but mother kept photos in an old album of me when I was young. My earliest memories were when I was still about three. Mother had just painted my room in the theme of Alice in wonderland. The background was a light pink with stencils of all the characters of "through the looking glass" on the walls. She then hand painted them to look real life. On my wardrobe was mom's and my favorite painting. of Alice her self in a lovely blue green gown with high spike heels. I loved her dress and wished I could be her. I don't know when I realized the truth. I was a boy I would never be her. Despite my long hair and finger curls mother gave me until father insisted I have short hair. After a bitter discussion he took me to the barbers shop and had it cut. It was already changing color as I grew up and soon it was black. I was an only child despite having a brother. But he was married when I was born. I was adopted so my parents were much older than most couples with children.

I went to Catholic school in an 8 room school house one room for each grade. Nuns taught all the grades. There were two play areas one for the girls and one for the boys. The girls had a play house on it and a play castle. The boy’s area was bare except for the lines drawn in the ground for baseball and football also a net for basketball. Those two areas said it all about attitudes of gender. Boys were athletic and had sole interest in sports to make them strong. The girls were domestic and did not participate in sports. And that was that, there was no reason to see life in any other way than the way it was always depicted. So I was soon turned out into the big field to play the current sport with the boys. But I had no interest in sports. It was all so tiresome to me I mean what was the point? Baseball was the worst. We would all group up and two captions were picked and then they would choose the players sometimes they would actually choose me when the crippled kid was out. We had a catholic priest watch over the boy’s area he was a wonderful man he loved sports and often he would see me being miserable. But his solution was to just make me a better player but after a few throws he would soon get bored with my poor performance and he would go to the good players. There was something wrong with me I knew but I didn't know what.

As I grew older it became increasingly harder to deal with my life in school. I went to the library to see what was wrong with me, was I gay? But the definition in the books didn't fit me, it was all wrong about my feelings. I was not gay then, but what was I? Father Dunivan now never talked to me. He blatantly avoided me when we did happen to meet. The boys were now openly hostile to me and I always had black and blue marks on me in various stages of healing. It was not as if I was ignored. Mother forced the school to answer her as to why I was always fighting. What did I do to cause this? After several late night meetings with mother superior I was sent to a women doctor three times a week for counseling. She tested me with her scales and tests and then got very worried. Mother told me my tests didn't come out in the way the were supposed to, so that must mean I was crazy. The only test that worked was an IQ test and I was in the top 1% of the curve. This woman kept asking what I had said to get punched and I kept telling her nothing, nothing nothing! She would listen and twenty minutes later ask the same question. Finally I began to make up stories I knew she wanted to hear. She was happy and wrote glowing reports about how well it was going. I was still getting beaten, each time more severe than the last. My only friends were the girls. They seemed to take me for what I was. I could be more at ease with them. So I sat with them at lunch. But that I found out was a mistake. Now I had a name to be called. I was a queer, a sissy I didn't even know what the names meant but I knew they were bad. One day I was playing in our back yard when three older boys from the school came by they asked me to join them. They wanted to go hiking and thought I would like to come with them. I was overjoyed and agreed. About a half mile from my home they began to hit me. I soon lost consciousness and a woman walking home found me and called the ambulance. I had twelve stitches in my skull just next to the five stitches when I fell off the high chair when I was three months old. Mother was hysterical in the hospital. Things were changed when I came home. For one I was to play in the Nash yard two doors down. It was fenced in with a twelve foot high privacy fence. The only way in was through the house and Mrs. Nash would not let other kids to play with her five daughters. I was to see a new councilor and put in a new experimental program to study genetic disorders based on a doctor Benjamin's studies. In school I was not to go outside the school building and play. Nothing was done to the boys since it was known my father beat me as much as the boys did. The changes did help. The only bruises now were from the beatings father gave me. The new councilor was just as stupid as the last one except she had the most beautiful doll house I had ever seen on one side of the room (I could never ask my parents for a doll or even a dollhouse they would know I really was a sissy.) the other side had trucks and planes guns etc. I ignored the trucks, what possible interest could I have in them I could get all I wanted at home. So I would go directly to the dollhouse when ever I came. Often that meant playing with a girl or two there. But they never seemed to mind. We played fun games and had imaginary adventures with our dolls. It never occurred to me why they would put a big mirror in the room. Adults were always doing things that made no sense who knew of two way mirrors. Then they started giving me a toy truck when I came in. They then sat me down in the boy’s side. I pretended to like it. I learned what I was supposed to like quickly. As soon as they left I dropped the toy and went to my dollhouse and got my special doll I used to hide so no other girl would get it. I still thought I was fooling them. Then there were boys in the room when I came in. The boys wanted to play with the trucks. They were nice enough but by this time I was very weary of males. So I stayed with my favorite toys and watched them play war and such. I could not play as I wanted because the boys were looking at me and I was afraid they would call me names. Finally there were boys and girls in the room but I knew the girls and I liked playing with them we made up so much fun games I ignored the boys and soon I forgot about them altogether. I liked this doctor there were no tests to take only a few questions after playing in the room with the big mirror. At first she told my parents that it was perfectly normal for me to be playing with the doll house. They talked in front of like I was not there. This went on for several months. Then they called in my parents one night. This time it was so different. I was not allowed to be with them when they talked. But this time father who always just sat there looking frustrated was yelling at them. "I was not a queer " he screamed. Oh I thought I messed up again. I wished they would let me know what they wanted on the test and I would put it down. I was not stupid I was a good kid and I wanted to please them. From the loud voices I heard the Doctor tell my parents that "they were told there might be gender problems". They wanted to continue to work with me. They pleaded with him to let me stay. They told him I needed this. But father would have nothing to do with it. He came out his face was beat red. Get your things he growled you won't be coming back here. Then he left for the car and mother waited for me. I was embarrassed by father. The doctor and her assistant looked at me with sad eyes I wanted to say something but I could not say what I felt. We both knew I would be back someday. I was about to leave when the doctor said wait and went back into the room with the mirror and came back with my favorite doll and gave it to me. I hid it under my coat. It sits now on my make-up table the first doll I ever had. I would miss the doll house but the Nash girls had one. Not as nice but still enough to be playable.

As far as father was concerned there was no problem. The beatings stopped simply because I was not allowed to be alone with the boys which made me even more despicable in their eyes. Mother walked me to school every day and picked me up to take me to the Nash house to play. That's how it remained for the rest of my grade school. The Nash girls kept me company in the school house. Often they would have their girl friends with them, (but no boys were allowed near me). We had such a good time I would forget I was not a normal person but a freak. I was shown love by adults but it was always tempered with the thought you would not love me if you knew what I was. My feelings became stronger than ever as I got older and the differences in genders became more apparent ... I had a growing secret that I shared only with the Nash girls.

My first visits with the Nash girls were at best awkward they didn't like boys at all. Their mother hated men since her husband deserted her with five girls to care for. I didn't know that then all I knew was there father was gone. As far as I was concerned that was a good thing since my father continued to beat me for things I didn't understand why. When I told her that she seemed to see me in a new light then and soon the girls accepted me as one of them. Perhaps that was the problem because when I got into the sixth grade I was the same size as Meloney and her twin sister Constance. One day I came in and they were poking each other. When I asked what was the matter Meloney giggled we think you would look prettier in girls clothes. I blushed deep red.

Of course I would I said boy’s clothes are not pretty.

Well then why not wear one of my dresses we are about the same size. Said Constance

You would let me put on your dress?

What is wrong with putting on a dress replied Meloney There pretty and they feel so good. Don't you want to be pretty Danny?

You won't call me a sissy? Or tell anyone at school?

Girls are sissys silly. But you should have been a girl Danny my sisters and I know you like our dresses. Mother said it was all right if you did. So would you wear one when you play with us so we all can pretend we are all girls. You can be the mother all the time if you do. They both said

So I picked out a nice dress with plenty of lace and petticoats with their giggling help and put it on but first I had to put on a pair of panties. I loved it. The dress was not the blue green gown that Alice wore but it was as good. We played with me in the dress until Mrs. Nash got home. We had forgotten the time we were having so much fun and she walked in on us. We were just pretending I stammered but she smiled a Cheshire cat smile and said you look adorable in that dress I never knew how pretty your face was. I started to take it off but she stopped me. Since you are in it stay in it dear. I rather like the idea of having just girls here again. She swore the girls to absolute secrecy and for the rest of the day I remained in the dress. When I was to leave she had me take it off and saw I was wearing her daughter’s panties. You’re going to have to wear that home dear I can't find your underwear. When you get it home keep it for your self. From then on I knew I wanted to live my life in dresses.

When I tell that story to other cross dressers they say I was so lucky to have her help me. But I wonder. Mrs. Nash did it for her own purposes. Not to help me that I am sure of. But for what ever reason she encouraged me to dress every day. She had a big fenced in yard with a high privacy fence so no one could see us if I went out side in dresses. Mrs. Nash love to dress her daughters in mother daughters dresses. So it was not soon after my first dress at her house. That she was providing me with matching dresses with her daughters. A few times I stayed over at her house for the week end I never got out of girls things all weekend I slept in the young girl’s room in a night gown and a sleeping bag. This went on till the eighth grade. By that time I had my own set of dresses at home. While I enjoyed the pretty things I wore over there. The girls held no sexual attraction for me. I liked the way I looked in dresses that was all. It was more important to me how others reacted to me when they thought I was a female. One day in my seventh grade while staying at the Nash's I was informed Mrs. Nash's sister was coming over but there was no reason not to put on my dresses Mrs. Nash didn't want her sister to know she let a boy play with her girls. So I got into a typical mother daughter dress and Mrs. Nash curled my hair and put a few bows in it like the rest of her girls were wearing. What none of us expected was her sister would bring her sons along. When they came in I expected to be hit but for some strange they were actually shy with me and nice to me all that afternoon. One wanted to hold my hand and the other not to be outdone shyly kissed me as they left. The girls shrieked with glee that they had tricked the boys. But for me it was not that at all. It was suddenly like understating a complex puzzle. I knew that this is the way it should have been. It would have been if it were not for what was between my legs. I stood at the window and watched them go. I really liked David who kissed me. He made me feel so special. At that moment the girls and Mrs. Nash realized I was looking out the window and not laughing. They turned to me when I felt their stars on me I turned red face and stupidly said wistfully David is really nice isn't he and wiped a tear from my face.

You have a crush on him gasped Meloney!

I do not I said, he was just nice to me I shouted!

David has never been nice to a girl before. I really think he is smitten by our little girl here said Mrs. Nash. I had better tell my sister that David's hormones are showing and he has a bad case of puppy love for my new daughter.

I saw David many times after that. Of course I had to be in dresses when he came over. He would bring me little gifts. I found out he liked sugar cookies and so Mrs. Nash help me to make him some cookies. I was never physically attracted to him or any boy for that matter but he was the first boy who ever loved me and I knew I loved him so much my heart would break. I spent hours in his arms and being kissed by him. I will never forget him a girl never forgets her first love. Boys finally made sense to me this way. It worked for girls also but it was much subtler than boys. Only after I found out how it worked for boys did I discover that my relationship with girls changed when I was in dresses as well.

In the eighth grade mom decided I did not need to play with the Nash girls any longer since I would be attending high school in a different town. The girls were going to go to high school in a private girl’s school. The girls always hinted that I go with them and be a girl permanently at their new school. It was a nice fantasy I would loved to have done it but it was not real. They left when I was away on my father's regular fishing trip and when I returned home with my usual bruises from the back of father's hand they were gone. Mrs. Nash left a small steamer trunk for me with mother. It was marked personal and locked. Mom being one of those women that looked upon a locked box as an invitation to open it and having it marked personal to her son from a mother of five girls made it near impossible to resist opening it. Not being one of the devious women who used a hairpin to effective use everywhere. Mom decided to employ a large screwdriver on the lock which she found just as effective but more destructive. What she found was not what she expected in her wildest of dreams. When I came home she followed me into my room there on the bed was the box. It's lock hanging uselessly from the trunk. Mom opened the trunk and pulled out one of my dresses that I wore at the Nash house. She smoothed it out and held it up to me. Yes it fit. Yes it was mine. All of them were mine. Then she pulled out a pink photo album there I was with the Nash girls in my dresses. Several of the photos were with me being hugged and kissed by David. She then pulled from her apron pocket a small packet of love letters from David. The letters were innocent adolescent love nonsense that any boy might write a young girl. But I was not a young girl. My mind whirled to come up with an explanation other than the obvious. She took the photo album and walked out with out saying a word. I followed her but she closed the door to her bedroom on me. I could hear her crying. I was scared silly if father found out I would be beaten to the point I would no longer feel the blows. I still remember the face on him at the doctor’s office. There was no way I could get out of this. I was dead. Mom must have called Aunt Pat because she came in looking as always like she just stepped off the covers of vogue. Mom showed her the box and the photo album. Then they came in the living room and each took a chair. It was to be an inquisition. I was ordered out and to my room. I left the room but stayed near the door to hear my fate first hand. But to my surprise aunt Pat seemed to take my side. She started out by saying

I can see why David was infatuated with him dear. He is a very pretty little girl.

Trisha mom exclaimed. Don't encourage the boy!

I am sorry Lorette, but they did have to force his genitals down in place when he was born.. They told you this might happen that operation does not always produce a boy mentally. You knew from the moment you took him from the hospital.

But what are we going to do with him now? Larry will kill him when he finds out. You forget Larry adopted him as a favor to me mom said.

I forget nothing! You have been paying for that mistake ever since then. You do not want my advice. The child is non functional as a boy. Surely you can see that responded Aunt Pat?

Father Dunivan says this happens to some boys but he will grow out of it.

Poppycock! They don't grow out of it they just become unhappy adults who keep a secret. You know what must be done before he is too old.

Larry will never let me do that! He is going to another school new people no one knows him things will be different you will see.

And what if he does not?

Well then we will cross that bridge when we get there.

What about his appearance?

Ill have the doctor check his hormones again they should kick in soon and then he will be different.

I was told to burn the box and everything in it along with the letters and I was never to contact to the Nash's or David ever again. The photo album was not among the things to be burned. I never saw it again.
St. Mary's high was a typical catholic school the boys were on one side taught by the fathers and the girls were on the other taught by the nuns we had to be in white shirt and tie with jacket and the girls had to be in uniform. Between the two ends were the offices, the library, the cafeteria and the gym. One side of the gym was the door to the boy’s locker room and shower and the other side was the door to the girls locker room and shower. A third double door led to the school hall and the fourth led to the playing field

The old trouble began again shortly after I started school in the fall. Except this time I knew what the names they called me meant. It seemed to come from all corners but especially in gym. I had no upper body strength so I could not climb the rope they had. Or do many of the things the other boys did with so much ease. I hated sports I still threw like a girl they said. In football they had their little tricks and jokes to play on me. Their favorite was to give me the ball and then leave the field for me to face the other team alone. Sometimes I even made it through them but most of the time I didn't. It hurt even with the padding. If I only I had to face that kind of pain I might have survived high school but fate put one more stone in my path. Our coach was what they call a chicken hawk he had a whole string of boys he molested over the years. I was his next trick I was the cutest boy he had ever saw and he wanted me badly. So when the boys hurt me he let them. He would stop them he said if I let him do things to me. Everyone wanted me to be something different none of which was what I was or wanted to be. I was forced to take a shower, despite not really working out, with the rest of the boys. It was an open community shower. Wet towels hurt especially on your genitals. Mine were miniature in comparison to some of the boys. But it still hurt. So one day I came to the coach in tears and I agreed to let the coach kiss me and fondle me in return for a private shower in the girl’s locker room. I knew he watched me and masturbated when I was in the girls shower through a vent that was broken so the boys could see into the girls shower. I felt like a piece of shit I didn't even feel human any longer. I felt so lost. I stopped talking. I couldn't eat. My grades which had been above a B consistently through all of the beatings dropped like a stone to D's and F's. Alarm bells should have been going off like the fourth of July but no one was listening. So one day I emptied mom's sleeping pill bottle and had it refilled. Then I emptied both in me. Suicide attempt #1 failed but not by much. Still no one was listening, father refused to believe I attempted to kill my self. Mom's solution was to take me to the doctor and see what was physically wrong with me. She was forbidden to take me to see if I was mentally sick by father's mandate. It was determined that while my hormones were normal they should be much higher so According to the doctor they were going to "give me a shot to make my beard grow and put hair on my chest". I knew I didn't want that ever! So when he came with the shot I told him I didn't want it and backed away.

"Son this will not hurt a bit. Now just calm down!" he said you want to look like a man don't you?

"I don't want the shot doctor" I told him as a backed into the nurse.

The doctor nodded to the nurse to hold me. But it was a bad decision on his part. All the emotions I had been holding back, the beatings, the dirty old man holding me like this nurse weld up in me. I did not want to have that done to me and my mind seemed to click and I felt total uncontrollable blinding white rage! I leaped up and came down on the nurse’s arch with a satisfying crunch indicating I had broken her foot. She screamed and let go of me. My hand felt a long pair of scissors on the table and I picked them up and held them by my side. The doctor was shocked but he held his calm.

"You going to stick me with them" he asked.

"You come near with that shot and you'll bleed to death before you get to the door!" I told him in a deadly whisper that I did not recognize I was talking.

It seems to me you have a problem son with self control. He said mildly

Well it seems to me doctor you have a problem identifying the patient here. I shouted

He looked at me stupidly and then shook his head. Your right he said as he pushed the plunger and sprayed out the liquid into the sink.

He took me back to my parents where he explained to them what happened and that he would not do anything unless I agreed to it in advance. They pleaded with me for a half an hour but I was immovable. Father took me home and dragged me out to the woodshed and beat me with a stick of wood until I drifted into blackness. When he was done I had three cracked ribs and a shattered arm. My face was so swollen I was almost unrecognizable.

When I awoke Aunt Pat was sitting beside me and mom was on the other side of the hospital room. Father was no where around. I hurt everywhere. Aunt Pat was dressed in wrinkled slacks and a dirty blouse and she looked madder than a wet hen. She started asking me some questions, the right questions, and I finally told her of the coach. She turned to mom who was shocked at what I was saying.

This has gone far enough Lorette it is time I took charge before you kill this kid. You are my older sister and I love you like myself. But does it take a house to fall on you! Look Danny your going to need some plastic surgery to put your face back together. I have asked the surgeon to sketch a few ways he can make you look there is not much he can do you have very fine bones.

She showed me some pencil sketches of my face in different forms I picked the one I liked and handed it to Aunt Pat.

Yes Danny, she smiled and sighed, this is the prettiest one. It is the face I would like to have. Said Aunt Pat

She showed it to mom. Who just shook her head.

Larry will kill us when he finds out Patty.

That Cajun son of a bitch had better not show his face near here for a while or ill have him in jail by god! It is still a crime to beat a child to this degree fumed Aunt Pat. However that is not our first worry. I need to pay a visit to St. Mary's high. I have a score to settle with them first.

Aunt Pat hit the school like Grant taking Richmond. She had run two large corporations when men were the only ones with such power. They thought they could take advantage of her because she was a woman but they soon learned that she was tough as nails and ate them for breakfast. I was not there at the school when she paid her visit to the school with the local marshal and warrants in hand. But I heard. She marched in with the marshal in toe and had the coach arrested on the spot. The officials were still protesting when she marched into the boys locked room full of boys and into the coach’s office opened up the vent and showed them. Then she had them break the locks in the desk and filing cabinets opened up the desk drawer and found photos of all the naked boys.

My recovery took until late April before I could attend school again. Father was back but Aunt Pat had him on a short leash with the threat of sending him to jail. As for me I had a new face, a beautiful face, there left no doubt to me anyway that it was a female face. The school was changed I no longer had to take gym there was a new coach some held that against me but many of the boys in the photos admitted they had sex with the man. They were the one's who came up and said thanks.

  

  

  

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