Teddi Dianne's Diary

by Teddi Dianne Seibert-Aldoennetti

© 2003

 

Sometimes The Princess Becomes The Pumpkin…

While This Story Is Based In Fact, It Was Written To Exorcise My Own Personal Demons. Additionally I Hope It Is Of Sufficient Accuracy And Feeling That Others Who Feel The Pull Of Male To Female, Or Female To Male Transition, As Well As Any Hermaphrodite "Children" May Recommend It To Their Parents To Allow The "Child" Their Freedom Of Choice.

Why do I place the word "children" in quotes? Very simple, those individuals of the above categories (perhaps others as well) never really have the opportunity to be children. They are too busy trying to decide who they are, and to do that they must be adults almost instantly from their first recognition of intelligence. You will find most of these "children" to be wise or educated far beyond their chronological years.

The following story "Teddi Dianne's Diary" is an attempt to accurately display the private emotional thoughts of a young hermaphrodite female. It is based upon those feelings which have been placed into her own diary(s) and in her own words during her period of 6 to nearly 13 years of age. This story was written from those diaries in only two weeks with the majority of the work finished July 14th, 1965 approximately 10 years after the fact. The short notes above and at the end of this story were added Sept 6, 2003. That this was, in a sense, the 48th anniversary date was not intentional.

In many cases there have been omissions of information not because of lack of detail in the diary(s) but because it is not necessary or remained, at the time of writing, too difficult for me to bear. The story did not suffer from these omissions and the effort to impart her mind set or to emote her happiness, frustration, love, care, despondency, etc. has been preserved by her memories and writings.

What, in God's name, is a Hermaphrodite? It is an individual who has been blessed/ cursed, depending completely upon their point of view at the moment, with the obvious apparition of both the female and the male sexes upon her (in this case) body. This is not the male to female transition, nor female to male, at least not in the sense that most of us have come to accept. It is the attempt to learn who and what an individual's mental as well as physical sex may be.

While "normal" people would like to class everyone who is not "normal" into a single category, it is NOT that simple. Children who were born with both sexes physically present upon their body were automatically designated as "male" even as recently as 1998. It is only with the realization by the so called "normal" people that there are other individuals out there who are "different" that laws regarding discrimination have begun to be changed. Again, the "normal" people (and in many cases the transsexual people as well) have attempted to lump us in a single category but that fortunately is also changing.

I must place here a disclaimer, not to protect anyone but to allow you all to know I am not going to preach through the use of the story. These first few pages are the only "preaching" I shall do and I hope you do not take my momentary use of the soap-box in the wrong context. Oh drat, it's another crate of eggs. Oh well, some day…

Parents, PLEASE listen to your children. Please try to learn who they are and not who you wish them to be. YES, by all means guide them, educate them, love them, but allow them to express themselves (within legal and moral boundaries) with who they may be and not who you think they should be.

God made each of us who are "different" just as He made everyone who is "normal". He loves us just as much as He loves those who are "normal (?)". It is prejudice and judgment by those hypocritical "normal" people and not by God which attempts to remove us from His fold. Where does it say that only sheep with white wool are accepted by Him? In God's House are many mansions, there is a place for EVERYONE.

Strangely, I through the years have myself thought that I was among the very few. When I was born, records show that only one in 30 million were born such as me. I think that was inaccurate and that bias prevented proper reporting. Today, I have been informed, that one so pronounced as myself occurs once in about 200 thousand births and that in that same 200 thousand there are about 19,000 more that are as I but not so pronounced, nearly 10% all included. Yes, definitely a minority but then again perhaps we are special.

God gives each of us only as much tribulation as we may bear, that we may learn and be strengthened by it. As this is a great deal of tribulation, due to the prejudice and hatred placed against us by the "normal" people and their representatives in the "church", perhaps we are more able to bear it and survive & learn than are those "normal" people. Do I feel a kinship with those "normal" people? Yes, we are all children under God. Do I feel a kinship with those who are trying to express their inner desire to be other than that which society claims them to be? Cross dressers, transsexuals, etc. (at further risk to myself by the "normal" people), and more are all created by God. While some perversions may exist due to influences which are not from God, I find it particularly appalling that those "normal" people (in the name of God) are judging everyone by their own standards and not by God's. God has given us our commandments by which we must live. The "church" has given us its commandments which have been written by "normal" people prejudiced against those who are "not normal". The two are not necessarily the same. Humankind (Mankind) has a finite mold into which it attempts to force everyone. Fortunately God's mold is infinite.

This is NOT an easy story to read and the best I may claim for it is that it is as factual as I have been able, in my poor efforts, to maintain.

How may I claim this to be true? That is both a very easy and a very difficult question to answer.

It is easy because the diary(s) are mine and tell my story. It is difficult because the diary(s) are mine and remind me of emotions which I have through years of therapy tried to suppress (oppress?). Finally I have found myself again and am on the road not to acceptance of those things which befell me but to the final realization of what has happened and who I am. I really don't care what you think of me, only what God may think of me. I do care about the prejudice which may be held against others such as myself by the "normal" people. I have read MANY religious writings in existence in many lands. I have found that the GREAT majority of what is in these writings is in agreement around the world. I have also learned that what is in these writings has been "flavored" so to speak by those who have written them. This flavoring does not diminish the basic messages but serves in most cases to place an emphasis upon them as needed for the location and peoples receiving them.

A religious emphasis HAS NOT been placed into this story. In fact I have recently examined my poor attempt to assure some distance from "religion" and religious connotations in an effort to allow the story to more accurately describe the feelings of the young woman in her joys and sorrows, despondency due to oppression and marvelous ability to bounce back and accept those who oppressed her when that oppression has been lifted. I hope I am still capable of "bouncing back".

This story was written MANY years ago, but it still forces me to look at myself and to experience through memories, some of which it is best not to place into writing, those emotions through which I lived so long ago.

Yes, I still find joy and I still find sorrow. I laugh, I cry... I treasure, for this has been my story or at least the portion I am presently willing to share.

Now as to the ancient disclaimers; the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Are there any innocent? The names have been altered and while some prominent names may be in use, they are NOT those which actually were the players upon this scene. YES the actual players were politically prominent. YES, the actual players were members of the nationalities portrayed. Yes, I loved them ALL very much and wish that things had been different but then, don't we all???

If wishes were horses, how beggars would ride...

 

Teddi Dianne's Diary

by Teddi Dianne Seibert-Aldoennetti

©2003

 

(The Innocent (?) Years)

chapter I

 

Grandmother first gave a diary to me when I was but five years of age, I find I do not write in it for the longest time. Finally realising I may use more than one and my many private thoughts and treasures may be written here I begin my odyssey.

While still very young it had become necessary for me to understand some differences which exist boys and girls. Differences which others take for granted but which were confusing for me not just because I was permitted to wear my hair long (for a boy) but short (for a girl) a kind of twilight zone. I had clothing of both genders hanging in my closet and was told that at school I must always be one or the other for the entire year. I did spend a year as a boy and then a year as a girl. I learned things boys learn and I learned things girls learn. Either way I should normally accompany Mother whenever she goes shopping. We usually shop in Pacific Beach or La Jolla but sometimes we will go down into San Diego. One store she frequents there is Marsdens. It is here that I first find myself. Like most children, my interests initially involve those items found downstairs in the basement as that is where the toys are located. Usually I am allowed to wander in the toys so long as I "do not touch" anything. Mother would be upstairs in women's wear. The first time I become aware of girls under things is that day when mother does not allow me to go down to the toys as "we are leaving right away". As I wander the aisles in women's wear I find myself in the section which holds items for the younger female. I feel the soft under things and look at the pretty dresses. Slacks? I do not remember any in the area. There are dresses, skirts, blouses, and swimsuits (single piece and covering) but no slacks. I see the pretty cotillion gowns and I remember the cautious watching of the salesladies as I peruse the department. Eventually they recognize me whenever mother and I come in and they know I shall go either to toys or to the girls section to look at the changing styles present there. I am surprised how some styles change with the seasons. Boy's clothes are always the same, bland, bland, bland. Brown, black, blue (the three B's) and very little else. Some color exists in the shirts and occasionally in the pants but only in small quantities and for casual wear only. Girls have jewelry, makeup, nail polish, COLORS from which to make a seemingly endless number of choices and combinations. Beautiful dresses, skirts, blouses, shoes and more. I look at the heels in women's wear, and marvel at the ability of a grown lady to walk on her toes all day long wondering if I should ever be able to do so. By the time I am six I have a number of those multicolored blouses, skirts and dresses, a calf length slip, many panties (all in colors of course), and several pair of socks with soft fuzzy tops in pink and white which I fold down over themselves as I have seen it done by other girls.

By now, Grandmother has come to live with us. She has gone to work for the City schools as a cafeteria manager. She always has the best food available at her cafeteria. Sometimes in the mornings, when I get off school, I tell the bus driver the name of Grandmothers school as he knows where I am to get off that I may go over to visit "Gram's" school. He will tell me not to cross the street until he begins to pull forward as he will start out slowly so other vehicles are blocked from my path. This is a time when nearly all adults still care about children, anyone's children. When I reach the school cafeteria I go in and Grandmother will allow me to go back where the food is prepared. Carefully washing my hands, I prepare to help by peeling potatoes or removing peas from their pods. This continues for perhaps a year but by that time the potatoes arrive in a can as do the peas, and there is no more peeling. All I do now is open cans. The food never tastes quite as good as it once did. Even my favorite pumpkin pie tastes funny.

Oh well, enough divergence. Occasionally, having had no opportunity during the day, I will wear a slip under my pajamas. This feels so wonderful that one night I wear also a pair of panties. Eventually both are worn under my other clothes while I am at school. I am both happy and sad. Happy that I am wearing these things and sad that I cannot wear a dress, a ribbon in my hair, and perfume. I long for the day to be spent in a dress but that, unfortunately, will not work out very well. My needs increase as does my wardrobe, however with each additional item the chance of discovery increases dramatically. By now summer vacation following my third grade year is rapidly approaching.

Mother now works for the city schools, nearly full time, as a part-time secretary (for two schools), my sister is approaching one year of age, and my brother is just a twinkle in my parent's eyes. For the most of the summer mother, grandmother, and, of course, father are all working so guess who plays baby sitter. It's absolutely perfect, at least until that one fateful day when mother arrives home unexpectedly as I am doing the laundry.

There I am walking down the hallway with a load of folded clothes in my arms when, suddenly, I am face to face with Mother. She smiles, does a double take, and turns, walking down the hall to their (my parents) bedroom as I make a hasty retreat to my own room where I rapidly begin to change clothes. She is back "in a flash" taking my arm to assure my cooperation as she guides me to their room where I must completely undress. She then sends me to my room to dress once again as she bundles those clothes I have removed. I dread her telling Father as I know what will then happen. Several days go by and there is no further mention of our encounter. A week or two into summer vacation Father departs to the east coast on a business trip and immediately Mother comes to my room and hands me a number of undergarments. "Put these on young lady and come to my room." she says. I am ecstatic and yet frightened nearly to death. What does she intend to do? One of the items is the bra which is still somewhat large for me. I dress and walk the hall to her room. The door is closed so I knock and she opens it allowing me to enter. On the bed I see a blouse and a skirt. There are a pair of socks and on the floor, shoes. "Well young lady don't just stand there, get dressed. We have a lot to do today. I look at her questioningly as I take up the blouse, buttoning it before stepping into the skirt which I zip up behind. After these garments are in place she tells me to unbutton the first few buttons of the blouse, and places a very thin powder puff into each cup, "just a hint". I now have breasts, small to be certain, but breasts. She allows me to button the blouse once more and to pull on the socks which I fold down under her watchful eyes. Then I place the flats onto my feet and walk over to the mirror. I like that which I see.

"Teddi, come sit here at the vanity mirror. I want to adjust your hair and we will add just a little makeup. Watch carefully now, I shall show you only a few times, you must learn how to do this." She spends perhaps ten minutes on my hair, teasing it a little, and brushing it into the shape she desires as she applies spray from a bottle every so often. When she finishes, once again turning me toward her, she carefully applies a very light shade of lipstick to my lips. As I look toward the eye shadow on her vanity she tells me "a young lady of your age does not use eye shadow as yet, but perhaps we shall use just a little mascara on your lashes". After the mascara (I am having a terrible time holding my eyes open for her to do this), she shows me how to properly buff my fingernails as she tells me she will show me later how to properly care for them. I buff and buff and buff again before she says "it is not perfect but will needs do". Then out comes a bottle of light pink fingernail polish. My heart has been in my throat throughout this ordeal both in fear and in joy. "Now don't touch anything for twenty minutes until you dry. Stand up and walk out to the living room. You may sit on the couch while I change and by the time I am out your nails will be dry. Don't touch anything."

She opens the bedroom door allowing me to walk out to the living room but by the time I arrive, I remember the full length hall mirror and walk back to look at myself. I am beautiful, I can't believe it. For so long I have desired to look this way and now it is true. Finally, I step away and go to the living room where I sit on the couch. About that time Grandmother walks by and says hello to me calling me Teddi just as has Mother. This is a wonderful day. "I love you Grandmamma" I call to her and she turns and smiles at me. "I know you do Teddi. I love you too, now be a good girl when you go out with your Mother." "I will Grandmother." She seems happy for me. I know I am happy for once. Mother finally arrives handing me a small purse, and a white sweater to place around my shoulders come evening. We walk to the car where she unlocks the passenger door and waits as I enter, carefully sitting on the seat then swinging my legs together into the car. She smiles and closes the door for me.

We drive to downtown San Diego, where we begin shopping for some things she needs, AND SOME

THINGS FOR ME. "Teddi, we must begin to obtain the clothing you will need for school next year. You will attend fourth grade as the young girl you are." I am to attend school all year as 'Teddi' and not as "Teddy". I cannot believe it. This is wonderful, I am so happy. The twins, two girls I have known since second grade, will be surprised. They are so much alike they both have the same tooth missing and braces and both wear glasses. I think I must be the only one who is always able to tell them apart. They always said I look more like a girl than a boy. It's true. When I look in a mirror my figure is that of a girl and I am beginning to change somehow as I look more like a young woman every day. (Especially with the powder puffs in the bra). As a boy I never cared much for trying on clothing but as a girl I am so excited. There is so much to choose from and I don't know what to select. I must be sensible as these clothes must last me throughout the school year. That includes the rainy season as well. Separates are the better choice I tell Mother, for that will allow me to create more outfits. Dresses are nice but once worn they are obviously the same dress when worn again. Today we depart with nearly a dozen blouses, four skirts, more socks of course, several slips and half slips, a camisole, three pair of shoes and a one piece swim suit. I cannot believe all we have purchased, and Mother tells me we will return once again to obtain more before summer is over. As we begin to return home I begin to cry in happiness. Mother holds me close as I say "thank-you" over and o over. Through the summer I learn all I may about caring for my hair, and fingernails and so much more. I learn to walk with a dictionary on top of my head. At first I "bounce' so much it always falls off but after a week I am able to walk anywhere in the house without dislodging it. I may even sit down and stand up again without it moving. I learn also to put on my own mascara and lipstick (not red yet just pink hardly noticeable). FINALLY, I have learned the secret to properly care for my nails. This morning when I walk out to the dining room, mother looks at my hands and pronounces me an expert at care of my fingernails. Then she looks at the mascara and tells me to remove it and try again, "not so much this time, you are a young girl not a strumpet". What is a "strumpet"? Oh well, one can't do everything perfectly right away. I look in the dictionary for 'strumpet' then I go into the bathroom and remove all that remains of the mascara.

Father finally returns from his business trip (three weeks after he departed) and Mother and I drive together to the airport to pick him up. I am wearing one of my full skirts and a short sleeve flowered blouse. Mother has once again used the mascara on my lashes as I simply cannot get it right. I try to use as little as possible but wind up looking like I have dipped my lashes in the bottle. I have, however, buffed my own nails, applied nail polish, and placed lipstick (so light a color I may hardly notice it) on my lips by myself. (I even buffed and polished my toe nails but did not show mother.) I am still wearing flats as mother says I am not old enough yet for heels "Perhaps for graduation in sixth grade, perhaps". Drat.

We arrive at the airport just as father is exiting the terminal. I open my car door and run to him for a hug then help him with his luggage. Well, I carry his briefcase to the car (it is heavy) and I enter the back with his briefcase as he places his other luggage into the trunk. Mother gives him a kiss and she enters the front passenger seat while Father goes around to the driver's door. After he enters the car, I lean forward and give him a kiss saying "I'm glad you're home, Father." "I'm glad to be home too, young lady. Now sit back so I may drive." He isn't angry. In fact he turns and gives me a careful look then says: "I guess I'll be chasing the boys away pretty soon won't I?" I couldn't help it, I blushed. Never have I given that a thought before. "Oh, Father, I'm too young for dating. I must be at least twelve". I don't believe I shall ever forget the sudden shock his face registers as he replies to me, "Or perhaps a little older don't you think?" I consider carefully before I reply, "Perhaps." His face does it again. Through the rest of the summer I learn to care for my clothing, to sit properly without allowing boys to look up my skirt or dress, to enter and exit a car with dignity and to allow father to open doors for me. (That is the most difficult thing to learn as whenever we are to go out I usually just open the door and begin to step out.) After several weeks of "Young lady, you come right back in here and allow Father to open the door for you". I turn all shades of red, hang my head and walk back almost in tears. "I'm sorry mother. I forgot again. I'm just excited to be going out to supper with you."

The school year begins in mid September, one week late. I have finally learned to use mascara properly and have been caring for my own hair, fingernails, skin (creams and lotions), and have noticed the bra is becoming just a little snug. By the time I am two months into the school year I am no longer using the powder puffs. I have not told mother and I do not know if she has noticed. My grades are much better than they have ever been and my parents attribute this to the school. I think it is because I am much happier than I have ever been. Forming friendships with several other girls my age, we visit each other's houses and have slumber parties and birthday parties. Halloween is a "blast". My costume is that of an Indian princess with "buckskin" material and my hair hanging straight down my back, it nearly reaches the bottom of my shoulder blades. Soon larger bras and then powder puffs once again as Mother notices my breasts are beginning to form (barely). The school year is flying by and I am HAPPY. Father has accepted me as I am and Mother and Grandmother are teaching me so much. Most of the time when the three of them go out I "baby-sit" my younger sister. That is fun also, I pretend she is my daughter and I am the mother. I care about her very much, but it is such hard work protecting her from herself as she learns to be careful. Finally the school year is nearing its end. My friends and I promise to meet each other again next year. Cynthia is traveling to Europe, Linda, my best friend, and her mother are sadly moving to Montana to be with her grandmother (Linda's not her mother's), and Carol and Kathy are traveling with their parents to visit relatives in Cape Cod then they will be moving to Baltimore for several months. That leaves just me for the summer.

Again, I spend the summer without many friends and as my fifth grade school year approaches we move once again. This finds us back at a school where my previous registry has been as a boy. Mother and Father explain I must be a boy once again to attend. I run out of the room in tears and do not exit my bedroom (or the bathroom) for several days except to eat. I cry for days, and am barely able to see when finally I stop crying. Now that nearly a year has passed since my breasts have begun to grow, they have developed a certain definition while continuing to increase in size. I am not quite able to fill a "B" cup but miss that size only slightly. A thin powder puff is too much addition. The school year begins, but I am dressed as a boy, life is again miserable. Even worse, only a few weeks into the year my teacher takes me to the principal's office because I am "disruptive". It finally boils down to my breasts. They are obvious and the principal takes me to the school nurse who has me remove my clothing. She inspects my breasts and tells me to remove my pants. She then inspects me down there. That I am both a girl and a boy is obvious. She becomes totally unglued, beginning to scream at me which prompts the principal to return. Finally they permit me to dress once again after calling my parents who soon arrive. They are both very angry and take me home. I am sent to my room. What have I done? I was adding the numbers in the practice drill and writing the next problem from the book on my paper when the teacher grabs my arm to take me to the principal. Afterward all hell falls in on me. I know I am a girl and a boy, isn't everyone before they become a woman or a man? What did I do? I didn't even talk back but said "yes sir, and no sir, and yes Ma'm, and no Ma'm" to the questions. I was very respectful as I should be to adults.

Mother and Father shout long into the night. Grandmother comes to hold me as I cry anew. "What did I do?? I... I.. was just.. doing the arithmetic problems. He..e.. grabbed me and dragged me to the principal... I could hardly stand up if I fell he just dragged me along and wouldn't let me get up to walk. What did I do??? No one would tell me what I did and they made me undress and looked at my breasts and down here before they became even more angry. The nurse wouldn't allow me to dress for a long time. What did I do wrong, Grandmother? What did I do wrong? Why is everyone angry at me? Even Mother and Father hate me. I didn't do anything. Please tell me what I did wrong." She tells me over and over it is not my fault but I know it must be. Everyone wouldn't be angry with me if it wasn't my fault. If they will just tell me what I did wrong I won't do it anymore. The principal said I could not go to school anymore and that people would come and take me away from Mother and Father. I don't want to go, I want to stay here. I want to go to school. All I was doing were the arithmetic problems. I didn't cheat. I almost had them finished. I always finish first, don't they remember? I cannot cheat if I finish before everyone else. I go out to tell Mother and Father I didn't cheat but they tell me to go back to my room. I burst into tears once more and run outside and down the street with my parents shouting at me. Everyone is angry at me and I don't understand what it is I have done. No one will tell me.

Wandering around for a while, finally hunger and the cool night drive me home where I sit on the porch near the door for warmth while crying some more. Grandmother hears me, brings me in, helping me to prepare for bed, then gives me warm coco. She tells me to wear my nightgown to bed and not the pajamas I am supposed to wear as Teddy, then she returns to tuck me in. After a little while I hear Mother and Father entering the house still talking loudly. Grandmother says something to them and they quiet down, then Mother comes in to see me for a minute. She also tells me I didn't do anything wrong after I tell her I didn't cheat. She said I could not go to school for a little while but they shall have an attorney talk to the school officials. I am not allowed to go back to school for nearly two weeks. When I do return, it is to another classroom and a different teacher. Once again I am a girl. Returning to school is now frightening, but this teacher is much nicer so school is not a horror for me. The teacher that dragged me to the principal is transferred and so is the principal. The nurse knows of my deformity but now is far more understanding and even supportive. She finally talks to me in the hall one day telling me if anyone is to hurt me I am to come to her immediately and she will help. I don't know if she really means that but I thank her anyway. A few weeks later, I am asked to see the nurse and go down to her office. She spends about an hour trying to explain to me the difference between a boy and a girl before telling me I am special because I may become either of these soon. I tell her "I'm not certain what you are saying but I am a girl. I don't want to be a boy." She gives me a strange look and says that I may not have much choice. Why not? Why can I not remain myself? It is so much more joyful and no one (well almost) is hateful to me.

The school year continues and I find new girl-friends. We are all growing and are beginning to be taller than the boys our age. I seem to be growing faster than the other girls as I am now the tallest girl in my circle of friends even though I am the youngest by nearly ten months. Father looks at me and worries his "little" girl is going to go out and commit some horrible crime. I tell him over and over that I'm not ready for boys yet. Perhaps in two or three years. He just looks worried.

I have so much I still need to learn. I help with the cooking and, as always, the cleaning. Sometimes I still go to Grandmother's school ( it is much closer now) and help. Most of the time, however, I am busy studying and reading about horses. I love horses. Some day I will own a ranch with hundreds of horses and perhaps dogs, German Shepherds or maybe Saint Bernard Dogs. Music -- classical, western, some opera ( that is still questionable), songs from the late 1800's a to early 1900's. Mother and Father are tired of Ravel's Bolero. I have played it over and over. Now I am listening to Tchaikovsky and Brahms ( I know, a strange combination) but I enjoy the music. There is always music around and about me, even when I am studying, but no rock and roll. Beethoven and Bach, another strange combination. Rossini! I LOVE music. If God made nothing else on earth, He scored a major victory with music. It is sad to know Satan is the Angel of music. At least God inspired it, before and after Satan became too big for his britches.

(Tuesday)

Lydia's parents own some horses and she and I are going riding next week end with her mother. Mother is taking me down to purchase some riding clothes. We are going to ride "English" whatever that may be. Funny britches! Oh, am I ever sore. I think every muscle is worn out. Lydia says we must ride every week end for a while and then we won't hurt so much. I told her mother I have never ridden before so most of the morning we rode in circles in a ..a corral. I learned how to guide the horse and how to sit while it is walking, trotting, or posting? Or do I do the posting? Then after lunch we ride different horses out on trails on their property. Most of the time we simply ride at a walk but sometimes we trot. Lydia's mother even takes a jump to show us, and then Lydia does it also. My horse starts to go and I simply try to stay on the saddle. I survive and Lydia's mother says I did very well, "natural talent". I have been invited back each weekend. Mother says it is all right if I do not make a pest of myself. The following weekend we ride again but Lydia falls and her mother decides we shall not ride the rest of the school year. Lydia broke her arm when she fell. Her mother borrows my scarf to use with hers to support the arm, then Lydia sits on the ground as I hold to my horse while her mother returns to the stable with the other horses before returning in the Land Rover. Lydia misses two days of school. Now that she is back her arm is in a cast and she cannot write until it heals. I told the teacher about the accident the first day back and now she is allowing Lydia and I to work together since I may write whenever we need to put anything on paper. Lydia says her arm hurts a lot and she is worried she may have a scar. I love horses but I am afraid of falling. Lydia tells me that once one of the horses stepped on her father's foot (not on purpose) and now one of his toes is crooked. Her arm needs nearly two months to heal and unless you know where to look it shows no sign of having been broken. She tells me that it hurts a little when the weather is cold. She still rides but much more carefully and slowly. Her mother will not allow me to ride because she does not want to be responsible for bringing harm to me. She really does not want Lydia to ride either but knows it must be, that Lydia will not become afraid to try new things or to do things after a slight injury. I tell her I am sad I cannot ride but I understand. Maybe once in a while I may watch so I shall remember how to do it?

School has been very busy and there is so much to learn. We do, at least, have time at lunch to discuss other things. That boy again. He is in sixth grade but the nurse tells me he was held over in third and sixth grade. If he would behave himself and try to learn (even just a little) he would be in junior high school now. After what he just did to me they are going to expel him. During the past two months he has terrorized me. I suppose it is because I am taller and more developed than are my girl friends (or any of the other girls in my class). I have seen one other girl my height but she is in another class and I only happen to see her during lunch. She has her own circle of friends. Anyway, this boy... He hides and jumps out behind me reaching around me and grasps my breasts, pinching or squeezing them. It hurts. Sometimes he will do the same to my derriere. THIS TIME, however, he confronts me at the playground entrance to the hallway just as I am returning to class. He pretends to study me and then pronounces to the boys who are with him that my breasts are fake and he is able to prove it. He jumps forward and hits me on my right breast. I scream and drop like a rock. The teachers are coming as the boys run away. I hurt so badly that I cannot stand but am helped to remain on my feet as I am taken down to the nurse. I am bleeding from my breast and the nurse has me remove my clothing and bra so she may check me. A needle is discovered to be sticking in me and the nurse manages to remove it with tweezers. Mother is notified of the occurrence and of my decision to remain in class to the end of the day. The blood does not clean off my blouse well, so there is a stain. I like this blouse. Perhaps mother knows of a way to remove the stain made by the blood. The principal, nurse, and my teacher go to several other classrooms with me to identify all of the boys involved. The parents of all the boys are called and they are not allowed back in school for a week. The boy who actually did it is held in the principals office and taken somewhere by a policeman. I see them walk out to the police car through the classroom window. The principal tells me the boy will go to reform school. My breast will not stop bleeding and still hurts a lot. Mother says we will go to a doctor tomorrow and puts a band-aid over the wound. By morning the band-aid is soaked as are my nightgown and the bedding. My breast hurts and feels as though there is still something in it. We go early to the doctor who takes an X-ray. There is a second needle which has slowly been going deeper. He must cut into my breast in order to remove it. Mother is concerned about that breast's development but the doctor tells us it will be all right and I am "resilient" (I look it up in the dictionary so I may spell it). He then places a bandage over my wound, and gives me a tetanus shot. Mother is told to change the bandage each morning and evening. We are to return in a week for him to check my progress. Mother drives me to school then she goes to work after giving me a note telling why I am late.

Of course, I am the center of attention and at lunch time I go to the offices to see the nurse but she is also at lunch. The lady in the next office takes a message to give to her. Finally the nurse calls me from class and we talk so she shall know there were two needles. She tells the principal who wants the doctor to write a note for them to add to the boy's file. They say it will prove the boy was not trying to prove my breasts were not real but was simply trying to cause damage. He certainly did. I hate boys. Father needn't worry. I am not going dating for a LONG time. Why do boys do things without thinking through all of the results those actions shall bring? I HATE BOYS! I'm glad I am not a boy. I would be angry with myself all of the time. Perhaps that is what is wrong with them. Perhaps they hate themselves and take that hatred out on others.

Another school year is nearly over and summer is upon us. Next year I shall be attending the same school for sixth grade. Now I am very nearly five feet four inches tall ( well, another half inch...) and I am wearing a "C" cup (yes it is loose, but the "B" is too restrictive). Mother and Father are purchasing season concert tickets for this summer and ask Grandmother if she would like to go but she says no. Then Mother asks me. OH, YES! The first concert is grand and it is down-town at the Russ Auditorium. It looks like it is a school but at night it is difficult to decide. All of the concerts are to occur here, except for the Starlight series. Those shall be in Balboa Park at the Organ Pavilion. I have worn one or another of my dresses and a pair of white gloves to each of the concerts. Of course, at those outdoor concerts I must wear a light sweater at night. The concerts continue into the first month of school. For the last one we shall be going to Los Angeles. Fortunately it is a Friday so I may go. We shall be sitting in a "box" (Mother explained it) and we shall purchase a gown and HEELS for me to wear. We look at gowns each week end for several weeks before Mother selects one. Immediately we also purchase the heels (and hosiery) that I may practice walking in them. The first day I twist my ankle and hobble about the next day. I continue to practice until I may walk in the heels with the dictionary once again on my head. Mother laughs when she sees that which I am doing. The day of the concert finally arrives and that afternoon I begin to prepare. Mother helps me to make ready and then she puts makeup upon my face and a deeper red lipstick. My hair is down and when I look in the mirror I cannot believe how much older I appear to be. I am very much a young woman. Mother brings one of her necklaces and a matching bracelet for me to wear and that further emphasizes my appearance. I simply stand there gawking at myself in the mirror. "Mother, after tonight will I be forever changed or may I still be a young girl for a while? I don't believe I'm ready as yet for so great a step." She smiles and comes over to hug me as she quietly tells me, "You ARE a young lady, Teddi. However you needn't grow up just yet. There is still a great deal of time available to you. Here, come over by the great mirror and I shall take your photograph. She takes several but when they come back they are not all that good so she makes an appointment for a professional photo shoot and I dress in my gown once again for those photos. The photographer thought I was in high school and perhaps sixteen or seventeen. He is surprised to learn I am eleven (well almost, only three more months). I like him, he makes me feel very lady-like and grown-up. I wish Linda were here. I miss her. I don't even have her address. Lydia says Linda has moved again but does not know where. It is very sad. Linda's Father and Mother divorced and her mother is having a difficult time earning the money they need. They lived at her Grandmothers for a while but she recently died so they moved out.

As the concerts are over for this season, my gown is hanging in a garment bag in my closet. We purchased it slightly large and had it carefully taken in so it may be let out again. Before we clean and hang it away we have it let out once again so there will be no creases in it. Mother says I may grow into it before sixth grade ends as I am growing very quickly now. She thinks I am maturing quickly as well. Father just looks worried. Especially when I tell him not to worry, "After all Father, I HATE boys!" He just mutters "my little girl, my little girl".

This year has been very peaceful at school and most of my friends of last year are in my class again this year. Mrs. Ruth is our teacher. She was my teacher when I was in second (or was it first) grade. My studies are doing well and the boys have left me alone. Many of the other girls are beginning to grow so I am no longer one of few who are taller than the boys. Most of us easily stand taller than the boys of our class. Mother says this will continue for perhaps three or four more years before the boys begin to catch up. Eventually they shall be taller than are we.

Our family has moved once again. This time before the school year ends (usually we do it over the summer). I am fortunate, however, as this time we have moved only ten miles (to part of La Jolla) so I may finish my sixth grade year at Crown Point for less than two months remain in the school year. Very near the end of the school year we girls actually prepare some food and cook it at the "cafeteria". There are no inside seats except for the teachers lounge, it is simply a place where hot food may be prepared. Anyway, we have been going down in groups of three or four to learn a little about preparation and we have been told that we may take homemaking classes in high school where we will be allowed to cook and sew and learn to care for a home. I have been doing these things at home or at Grandmother's cafeteria for several years as have most of us (at their own homes, of course). We may prepare anything we want if we bring the materials from home. I ask Mother if I may prepare a roast and she approves. This means I must go to the cafeteria early in the morning to begin and then return each hour to check it. We are allowed to bring the food we prepare back to the class that they may sample our efforts. Of course, we all agree the food has turned out well (except the boys, or most of them) who pretend it tastes terrible or has given them stomach aches. There is one boy though who has carefully sampled each of the foods and said they are all delicious. The other boys are giving him a "hard" time. But he tells us he does not have a "Mom' because she died trying to give birth to his sister. He and his "Dad" do the cooking and are not all that good at it. I give all that remains of the roast I prepared (almost half) that he may take it home. The other girls give him most of the food also. He sits down again and Lydia touches my arm a few minutes later quietly pointing to him. I notice he is wiping his eyes again and again. We pretend not to see him doing it. He is the first nice boy I have met. It must be terrible not to have a Mother. I hope his little sister is doing well. I cannot imagine how it would be without Mother or Grandmother. When Mother picks me up after school I tell her we gave all the left over food to the boy in class and explain about his mother. She agrees it could be very sad not to have a mother. I tell her how thankful I am for her and Grandmother. It could be very difficult without a Father also. I feel so sad for those children who have neither parent.

School is over and I wore my gown twice near the end of school. I had been playing in the school orchestra and three of us were picked to perform in the all school orchestra. This meant my Saturdays have been tied up for a month while we prepare the selections for our public performance. The last rehearsal was full "dress" and the actual performance also, of course. It is still a little large, mother seems to think it may last for several years. We purchased it large as I had already grown so much that I may not be growing as quickly. With my growth slowing and the larger size of the gown, it may continue to fit me until my late teens. I'm glad about that for I really like that gown.

This summer I am listening to a lot of music. When I ask Mother if we are going to go to concerts again this year she says we don't have the money as we are no longer renting but have purchased this house and are spending a lot more in payments, insurance, and upkeep. Also Father needs a new car so we are watching our pennies, perhaps next year. I am thinking about college, especially about Stanford or Harvey Mudd, both of which are terribly expensive, so I must do well at school that I may earn scholarships. I have begun to study that my grades shall do well over the next six years. Mother asks why I have selected those universities and I explain that I am not yet certain if I wish to be a lawyer or a doctor and those are probably the two most important in those fields.

It is now July and I have been over to several swimming parties although I do not swim. The summer is going so quickly and most of the others have not decided what they wish to do in life. They are a little surprised that I have decided so early. I explain that I must start now if I wish to earn the scholarships necessary for such training. I even asked Dr. Mahler if he could use a nurse's assistant so I may begin to learn. He smiled but said no. "Don't be discouraged young lady, for many important medical doctors are women." He gives me a list of materials to begin reading and I check them out of the library.

The bombshell has landed. Father has decided I am not to be a girl but a boy. I HATE BOYS!!!!! The name on my birth certificate is not that of a boy, even though it plainly states I am both a boy and a girl. I have begged him to allow me to continue as the girl I am and have gone to Mother in tears but Father will not relent. My world has been destroyed by my own Father. I even promise not to date and to study very hard but he will not change his mind. Mother says nothing and I am miserable. Father wants me to begin dressing "properly" right away and to cut my hair. Doesn't he understand how long it takes for my hair to grow to this length?

"What of my breasts, Father? What of them? Are you going to cut them off?" "The doctors will decide how to handle that Ted." Not Teddi, but Ted. Every time I look at him I burst out crying and run to my room. He says boys don't cry and I must stop it immediately. "You will be going to a new school where no one knows you as Teddi and you may be Ted without anyone challenging that." Oh God, what have I done so bad as to have this happen?

Seventh grade starts and I am one of those despicable creatures, a boy. I am as tall as the other girls in my classes and must wear something to prevent my breasts from appearing so pronounced. Even gym class requires special treatment to prevent others from learning my secret. Why are boys so mean, even to each other? My world has been turned upside down. I am in a daze. School has become difficult as I am unable to concentrate. The covering over my breasts makes them hurt all of the time and my periods are very difficult to disguise. Mother says they are normal for every young woman; and I answer, "That's fine, except Father says I am a boy so I shouldn't have them." Mother and I were best friends when I was a girl, I don't understand why I am angry at her. Many times I go to her, hug her and apologize. "I don't know what is wrong with me mother. I am trying to be a boy but my body tells me I am a girl and my heart tells me I am a girl. When I was a girl I was happy and wanted to learn and wanted to cook and sew and clean and help. As a boy I have no interests any longer." "You are the same person you were before, Teddi.. Ted" "No mother I am not. Teddi loved life. Teddi cared about people. Teddi wanted to be a doctor to help people. Ted doesn't care about anything or anyone, including himself. In fact Ted hates himself. I hate boys and Ted is a boy."

Here it is, October and seventh grade is a month completed but I feel strangely detached. I see little reason to continue this diary. I see little reason for anything. With my hair so short I cannot even pack and dress as a girl and run away toward happiness. Perhaps I might take one of Mothers wigs but it will be years before my hair is back to the length it was before it was cut. Ted doesn't need to continue a diary, especially Teddi's diary. This, I suppose, is the last entry. The final chapter in Teddi's life and in Ted's.

 

 

Wednesday, Feb. 2, 1955.

Dear Diary:

Once more I have begun to make entries. Much has happened to me these past five months. Bad and Good. But today, yes TODAY. Mother, today, introduced me to a boy, no,.. to a man. Why do I call him a man? It is not due to his age, but instead I see in him he who has the soul of one who cares, one who has learned it is not necessary to taunt, nor to condemn. One who has learned to accept others as they are, to ignore their shortcomings, or their incongruity with that of the accepted 'norm'. He is a "Senior" here at La Jolla Jr.-Sr. High, assistant captain of the High School football team, and a straight "A" student. I find him to be a likeable person. Having met him before I am more aware of his qualities but I cannot tell this to mother. His accent seems British, although he is possibly from elsewhere upon the Continent. Mother is saying he sometimes tutors students, and she has spoken with him about possibly tutoring me. He wants, however, to chat with me before he will decide to accept me as a pupil. She tells me I should try to be accepted as I may learn something from him. As usual, she is absolutely correct. He stands tall, perhaps six feet, and is thin but muscular. When he believes no one is watching him, his demeanor (how is that for a word?) is almost that of a prince. Not haughty but regal and caring. His dark hair is wavy, his face smooth... I believe he shall never have facial hair but this distinguishes him. His eyes are soft and caring but they miss nothing. He sees, and understands, more than the next ten people combined. Even so he does not 'lord' over anyone, but quietly goes his way. When with a crowd, he is not the center of attention but is aware and capable of communicating with all those about him. I tell you this because in a few short pages it is this which sets him apart and makes him worth knowing and trusting.

Mother works as a substitute clerical worker (soon to be a secretary) for the City school system. She has been at "my" school these past two weeks and will be here yet another two before her reassignment to some other temporary location. During my latest visit at the offices to see her (the offices are near to my locker), she introduces me to Jerry. You, the reader shall now be informed of the disaster which led to my first meeting of this gentleman and to my happy recognition of him during my mother's recent introduction of him to me.

A divergence---At the time of my birth, which was recorded as having occurred 22 December 1942 in Pasadena, California, USA; I was born with a deformity which caused my birth certificate to be marked neither male nor female but "see box 27" where a cryptic explanation was provided. My father required me to be male and this is the way I am now presented to the world the majority of the time. However, whenever he was away on business trips for Convair and later General Dynamics, I, happily, have been permitted to dress as a young female. However now Mother provides me one of her wigs which I wear to cover my natural hair (butchered provide a deceptive masculine appearance). When younger, my hair was worn very long for a boy but just fine for a girl. I tremendously enjoy the games I would play with the other girls and never did well at athletic sports. Frilly blouses and dresses, beautiful clothing and shoes please me greatly. I am very self-conscious and absolutely will not wear those new two piece swim suits. Neither do I fancy the 'deep plunge' of some of the new dresses. Along with the plunge has come a raising of the hemline. This I find less distressing but have seen a few very short dresses or skirts, which I simply will not wear. It is not that my legs are unattractive for they are not, but I suppose I am of the 'old' (Continental) school and propriety plays a very important role in my life. I do not wish to allow everyone to examine my legs nearly to my waist. Additionally, although not a member of an organized religion, I have a beautiful bible given to me by my grandmother (Gram) and I read and seek guidance from this book (more or less successfully) and the lessons it holds within. In addition to the early and provocative growth of my breasts, I also demonstrated a definite periodic pain, which occurs every 27 or so days regular as clockwork, lasting from two to five days each occurrence. This reminder of my basic sex is something I find I must endure most of the remainder of my life. At my first experience of this condition I believed I had the flu. Further testing conducted at this time by the family doctors informed us that, yes, I am now a fully functional and fertile female. All too soon my violent introduction to the difference between males and females was to occur.

I remember well, in 1954 I entered 7th grade at La Jolla Jr.- Sr. High (which at that time encompassed grades 7 through 12). As a "boy" I must participate in athletic sports and shower in the boys shower room. With a note from Dr. Neber and my parents speaking with the principal and several of the members of the school board, who were close friends of the family, I was allowed to shower in the coaches shower which was isolated from the rest of the showers and locker room. One new coach, however, was very upset that this privilege was accorded me. He therefore one day in October sent a number of the football team members in to shower in the same shower room. They could hardly fail to notice my well developed breasts which, once again, causes me to become the object of taunting at both lunch and after school, when I claim my bicycle to ride home. Finally these same individuals intercept me as I ride my bicycle home on the trail (shortcut) through the hills. It is just off the trail in the concealing thickets that they confirm I possess a vagina and they painfully rape me. Afterward they inform me should I tell anyone, they shall kill me and no one should know who did it. Their leader hands me a small container of pink pills almost as an afterthought telling me to swallow one each day that I should not become pregnant. The entire time they are laughing, it is such a joke that my life has forever changed. I dry my tears as best I may and place my books and papers once again onto the travel rack on my bicycle, starting again for home. Before I have gone far I become violently ill, a reaction to the rapes. This occurs once again before I successfully arrive at my destination and the sanctuary of home. I find the pain to be terrible. I don't know if it is a real physical pain, psychological pain, or both. (I try to spell that word several times before yielding to find it in the dictionary - it is a difficult word).

Slightly more than a week passes when I find the boy who has given those pills to me intercepting me once again. This occasion finds me upon the alternate path I have begun using. I surmised, incorrectly, I should not be bothered by any of them were I to travel a path frequented by many more persons. I failed to comprehend he dares anything. Guiding me to a small apartment located over a garage, he rapes me several times before allowing me to depart. Again he warns me to remain silent about the attacks. Slightly more than another week transpires with my rapes continuing nearly daily. Giving me another container of those small pink pills he instructs me to return every day after school. I begin what is to seem an eternity of traveling to his apartment each day after school. There I change my clothing for that which he places out upon the bed for me to wear. Each day he will fulfill whatever fantasy is held within that sick mind of his. He always enters the apartment a few minutes after I arrive and immediately satisfies himself in me. Over time I am to become a nurse, a waitress, a senorita (in a very pretty pair of riding culottes and bolero which later I appropriate), a cat, a white fluffy bunny with a powder puff tail and pink satin stomach. He likes the bunny a lot because 'they are prolific'. At the school library, I find that word in the dictionary and learn it's meaning. Nearly everything he asks me to wear covers me snugly everywhere except upon my arms and legs, nearly all pushing my breasts up and forward, allowing them to remain exposed. I have never been so humiliated or abused. Except for the culottes, all like the bunny costume, have a slit in the crotch at my vagina, matching the slit in the panties which I must wear under the costumes. These slits allow him to mate in me without removing the costumes. One day, he hands to me a red-brown wig which he now requires me to wear whenever I am 'visiting' him.

Occasionally, he desires me to wear one of those detestable short skirts with those tight panties under it. When he enters the room he begins to hug and kiss me finally pushing up the skirt, putting his 'thing' in me again and again and again. It is so large, mine is very small. He seems to enjoy lifting the skirt and using me repeatedly then he smooths the skirt back down and we walk down for ice cream and when we return the skirt is lifted and I become a depository for his maleness once again. Normally, however, he simply requires me to change to another costume (three or four costume changes sometimes on a Saturday). With each costume change I gain a short respite before he begins again thrusting his 'thing' in me repeatedly (He calls it his 'gun'). I simply wish to die. Over the weeks I have slowly secured half a bottle of sleeping pills from mother and father's medicine cabinet. These are, unfortunately, probably insufficient for my needs so I have hidden them until I may obtain more. Perhaps by that time I may also muster the courage to end this. Only once, early in the relationship, I ceased my appearances at his apartment. This resulted in his interception of me the fourth afternoon of my disappearance upon the original trail. Forcing me behind some large boulders he then beat me unconscious. I manage to bite him during the beating. He never forgives me that self-defense, repeatedly taking his revenge upon me thereafter. After this beating, I again awaken (nude) to find he has once again used me. My clothing scattered across the hillside. Locating all I may, I dress and then locate and retrieve my bicycle. It is, I find, down the side of one of the nearby hills. When my parents ask what has happened to me I tell them I hit a rock, riding my bicycle over the side of the hill. They say I should be more careful.

As Christmas approaches, I resign myself to an eternity of satisfying his sexual desires. I am so ashamed, I may no longer look anyone in the eye. It is a strange feeling, I am thankful God is permitting me to continue to live and I am confused and wondering why He does not strike me dead for my transgressions. I believe I may now possess sufficient sleeping tablets and must now muster the courage to die. There have several times been handfuls of them before me in preparation of taking my life but somehow something always prevents me from doing so. I find I repeatedly replace them in their hiding place, going to my Bible to read. I suppose I am simply a coward. From my Bible readings I comprehend I have become a 'bad' girl having discovered I desire the sensation of him in me. I now quickly become moist even though I do not want him. Physical hurt is now minor compared to the mental pain I have begun to endure. There is seldom physical hurt unless he decides to force himself deeply into me, then I feel like he is tearing me apart inside and give a small scream each time it occurs. He just smiles at this and attempts to stroke even more deeply within me. Is this the way I shall spend the remainder of my life, satisfying him again and again or some other? My world is no longer happy. Worse yet, I now sometimes awaken at night, moist and aroused after dreaming of him stroking in and out so powerfully. It matters not that I do not want him doing it, nor that the feel of him touching me makes me feel ashamed, dirty, sick, angry; my body betrays me for it wants him. Shortly before Christmas vacation I manage to obtain yet a fourth container of pills from him. I explain to him that mother has discovered the last container of the originals and destroyed it. As Christmas vacation arrives he demands of me that I shall go to his apartment no less than three times each week, remaining the entire day each time.

The day before Christmas he has a party, beginning early in the day and continuing (for me) until nearly seven p.m. when he 'graciously' allows me to return home (nearly everyone uses me at least once that day). Although a few other girls were present that day they were not raped. He requires of me to dress as the se¤orita and tells me it is a Christmas present, as he laughs. His acknowledgment of my beauty given in the statement "You are an attractive woman. You should come live with me and stop spending your time with children who are no longer your age." Looking at myself in the mirror, I understand that which he is saying. I indeed appear to be a young woman while dressed in these clothes. My age of just twelve well hidden and my appearance that of a young woman who may have children of her own. As the party progresses, each time I am removed to the flat he smiles or snickers. Once more, I have been violently ill and again hurt so badly I may hardly move. Any movement also causes me to become violently ill. My abdomen aches so badly I fear I may have been torn apart internally from those repeated thrusts within me. At least I may stay home on Christmas, but I shall become his toy again and again. He is not concerned with my pain or illnesses. Christmas day is spent in considerable pain with violent attacks of vomiting. I tell mother I believe I have the 'flu'.

Prior to that Christmas party the greatest number who have bedded me during any one day were perhaps six or seven, although some more than once. I remember also the simultaneous use of me by more than one of those brutes. I would be held on one of them as they force me to lean forward that another may enter my derriere. The pain is terrible as they both stroke in me madly, depositing their manliness in me. The first few times I scream in pain and 'Jock' hits me. They continue again and again until I no longer scream. Just once a third monster places his 'manhood' into my mouth even as two others are stroking in me. I bite him and am rewarded with a beating. This occurs several times until I learn not to bite but simply accept three of them using me at once. When the one using my mouth and throat suddenly deposits sperm into my throat I choke and vomit, nearly choking to death. They all help me to breath again. I later vomit into the toilet several times and continue to cleanse myself. Finally 'Jock' decides I have been too long in the bathroom. Bursting open the door, he drags me out by my arm and throws me onto the bed raping me once again before turning over that my derriere is available to another. When they finally allow me to once again go cleanse myself I am bleeding out both my derriere and my vagina. I hurt badly and may hardly move, I am shaking and may barely walk. I think they have finally killed me, there is an unbelievable quantity of blood nearly as much as the first day when they raped me up on the trail. Good! Perhaps I may lay down and quietly go to my Lord that I shall be forced no longer to come to this place.

 

I have not died.

 

New Years eve is a repeat of Christmas with as many as twenty people 'enjoying' my discomfort and shame. Moreover, he has arranged with my parents (by telephone) for me to stay over this night that his "children" and I may play together and stay up to watch fireworks. This allows them to make use of me well into the night giving me a "New Years Bash" at midnight. I don't remember much except being held or lifted frequently so someone could use me. I partially awaken once to feel someone holding my derriere tightly against them as they deposit their maleness in me while someone else is madly stroking in my vagina. I suddenly scream at the pain and am hit, remembering nothing until I awaken in the morning to find 'Jock' using me once again. He does not seem to care if I am awake or unconscious so long as I am a 'warm pussy'. I hope to die soon. If only I may be more courageous like a boy I should swallow those pills. I cannot understand why God allows this to continue. Have I been so despicable that this must be my penance?

Two weeks have come and gone with relative ease, he has had no friends over and is the only one who has used me. One day he asks if any pills remain and I say: 'only a few,' when in reality there are more than 50. He calls me a liar and hits me, but gives me another container just before allowing me to go home. The following week-end he tells me to dress in the bunny costume, using me four times during that morning. Finally he tells me I may rest but when I begin to change to my street clothing but he prevents me as I am to entertain some (there are six) of his friends who shall visit for the afternoon. "If anyone doesn't enjoy himself, I'll make you wish he did." I beg him to allow me to return home but he laughs and throws me to the floor saying he changed his mind and I am to wear the senorita costume. My body is covered with black and blue marks from the beatings. My parents think I am just a klutz.

It is early afternoon when he gives me to them. One of these shall be the person to whom mother is now introducing me. Of those who raped me, he was to be the fourth to come to the bedroom. However, he notices my tears and gently asks what "might be the problem". Over the next half an hour I tell him everything, how I have been raped (more than three hundred times) by that sadist and his friends. Filled so full of sperm that it would ooze out of me for several hours staining my undergarments. My attempts to hide the information from my parents. How ashamed I am because I cannot end my own life. He tells me they were informed I am a paid prostitute. Now he has learned the truth, he directs me to dress in my own clothes saying he will take me home. I tell him: "Should I not continue to do this, he will kill me. I hope he shall for I have not the courage to do it myself." Jerry says he may remedy that also, "Perhaps you should not be hasty." He gently helps me remove the costume and panties. Then bringing a washcloth and towel from the bathroom, he allows me to cleanse myself as best I might. It is difficult due to the pain of today's beating.

He says nothing of my deformity but helps me reach the toilet where once again I am violently ill. I may hardly stand but am improving with each passing moment. I locate the panties once more, situate them upon my body as the pressure of them against my abdomen helps ease the pain. Then I dress in my own clothing before we exit to the living room. As the others began to laugh and jeer 'Jock' comes toward me menacingly. Jerry simply hits him in the face and he falls like a rock. When he lands upon the floor Jerry kicks him between his legs. He then informs them that should any of them touch me again or if I am harmed in any way by anyone he will 'have the whole situation explained to them by men whose business is " explaining things". Should they survive the 'explanation' their names will then be given to the papers and to the police. I think they believe him because no one wants to argue. As we began to depart I also weakly kick 'Jock' who tries to hit me, but Jerry prevents him from touching me by knocking him to the floor once again. As 'Jock' lay there I ineffectully kick at him several times screaming at him that he deserves to die for raping me again and again, the others look shocked. Jerry, holding my shoulders, leads me out of the apartment to his car. We drive somewhere in La Jolla Shores to a restaurant. I must have been very upset because I do not remember where we went. I just remember watching the ocean and thinking. I cannot swim so it would all be over quickly. Remembering that episode of my life still makes me cry. I am unable to eat, simply sipping at a cola with tears slowly tracing lines upon my face. I cannot believe it is over. I find it difficult to believe that 'Jock' will not appear suddenly some afternoon and rape me again, or if I am fortunate perhaps he will kill me. Jerry continues to be very kind to me. I am unable to meet his gaze much less look at anyone else. I just feel dirty, ashamed, frightened, and am shaking. I promise myself that any man who tries to take me shall regret it. Somehow I will find a way to kill him. Then I realise once again it is I whom I wish would die. Jerry continues to tell how sorry he is I have been treated so badly and he gives me the phone number of his father's house. As we sit there watching the ocean he says: "If any of them even looks at you, tell me. Call me each day after school and tell me that you are well... You have told me of being raped many times, are you pregnant?" "I don't know. That monster gave me pills which he said would prevent that. However I am afraid of that which I may learn once they are exhausted. Should I be pregnant, the doctors have said that may be my death sentence due to my deformity.. Perhaps that is just as well." He says nothing to my comment but simply continues to watch me. The following three hours are as wonderful as these past months have been hellish. We drive up to Torrey Pines where we sit in his convertible watching the gliders while his wonderful arms protect me as I cry and cry upon his shoulder.

 

chapter II

We finally drive back to collect my bicycle. I tell him I am afraid Jock will see me and come out. Jerry tells me to get my bicycle and walks up with me then he follows me home. I had been violently ill once in the restaurant and must stop once more on the way home to be ill at the side of the road. He pulls abreast of me and asks that I allow him to take me to see a doctor but I panic and say I cannot, for if mother and father learn I have been repeatedly raped without saying anything they shall think the worst of me. "My world has been destroyed, I shall never be the same. Who would want me now? I am a whore. I have no life remaining." He tells me: "Please do nothing foolish. In God's eyes you still have great worth." I seem to remember something about a prostitute in the bible. Since I had begun to enjoy the sensations I guess I have become a prostitute. I suppose if she could be forgiven then perhaps I may also. That evening I search the bible for the passage and finally locate and read it without deriving an answer.

Each afternoon I telephone to inform him I have not been approached by any of them. After a week he asks how I am doing and I tell him I believe I shall survive, "I cry all the time, and sometimes vomit should I think about it for too long. I used the last of the pills yesterday, so I shall know in a month or two if I am pregnant." I really have over thirty remaining but have plans for them. He asks "Might we go out on a date", but I hesitate, telling him: "I cannot do that as yet. Perhaps should I not be pregnant we may go out together sometime in the future." Just once when I telephone, an older gentleman, who must be his father, answers. Frightened I simply hang up the phone without saying anything. When I telephone later Jerry answers. I tell him I once again have not been bothered by my rapists. "It may help me to forget all this if someone were to treat me as nicely as have you. But if I am pregnant..." He says he understands and asks "if I may do anything at all, pay for you to see your doctor or anything, please call me."

The first time we have met face to face again is this day mother introduces him to me in the school office. I may not acknowledge I have met him before. I am so ashamed I am unable to meet his gaze. I find it difficult to look anyone in the eye, especially males. After mother introduces us, we began to talk and he informs me he has injured his leg. Therefore, for a few more weeks he will be spending his P.E. period at the offices. We continue talking for a few minutes more until I realise I am now late for class. Writing a pass for me, he asks if I will accompany him to his home after school to talk, should mother give her permission of course? I say I do not believe I should, but mother tells him I should be happy to do so. I meet him after school at his car and we drive to his cottage on his parent's Estate. The trip has required only a few minutes in his car and the cottage is at one end of the property. Presently his parents are at one of their homes in Europe, so he and I (and the servants) have the entire place to ourselves. Jerry gives me a quick tour of the property then we go in to look at his cottage. It is quite nice with it's own kitchen, living room, bedrooms, all the amenities.

"Have you played chess, Teddi?" he asks. "Very poorly", I answer so we set the game pieces and he begins to show me how to play chess without sacrificing my king before the fifth move. After we have been playing for some time he asks if I should care for a drink. When I reply: "Yes, thank-you," he departs to the kitchen and returns shortly with a small glass of wine for each of us. "Everyone should be able to drink a little wine," he says, "it helps with the digestion." He continues to tell me about the conversation he and mother (he called her Mary, her given name) had been having saying he had informed her he might attempt to assist my decision as to the manner in which to continue my life. "When your mother brought you to the Food Basket with her, you looked quite nice in the blouse and skirt but I believe you could look much more of the woman given a little training and fine clothes." Then abruptly changing the subject, "Do you remember we watched gliders together?" I answer him saying: "Yes, I remember. At least I am not crying today." "You are attractive in any case," he replied. That was the first time I blushed with him. His words had the effect he desired for I unconsciously begin to try to improve my appearance, the first time since... since...

He informs me he will accept me as a student, tutoring me in my studies that I may improve my grade average. "Additionally we shall allow you to be an attractive young woman while we are together. We shall begin now. Your mother forgot to tell me of your bra size, what size do you presently wear?" he asks as he helps me up off the couch and we walk toward the bedroom. Panic begins to build in me. He begins showing to me some of the clothing as I hesitantly tell him my present size is 34C but it is padded because I am larger than 34B but smaller than 34C, although I am still growing. He smiles and asks me to remove my top as he begins to rummage in one of the two dressers, eventually removing a brassiere and a cashmere sweater. I know what is coming, I have simply moved from a small apartment and costumes to a cottage and nice clothing. "Now that's what I like in a woman, smooth skin." he says as he places the brassiere and sweater on the bed, reaching over touching my shoulders then gently dropped his large hands down over my breasts and onto my stomach; "and a flat stomach", he raises his caressing hands once again to my breasts where he softly massages them arousing the nipples which begin to stand proudly and slowly redden as I endure it, tears welling just behind my eyes. "I must apologize, I shall not do this to you again. Here,.. please try this bra, it is European and made to support your breasts naturally without covering them. You may wear it or any of the others whenever we are together. Please do not worry, I do not intend to use you. I want to show you that there are kind people in the world and that you have great worth." I do not believe that which he is saying but hope it is true as I position the bra at my breasts, discovering it lifts them while thrusting my nipples forward much as the costumes had done. He hands me the sweater (which has been manufactured in France) and I pull it over my head, the softness of it rubbing against my chest, breasts, and stomach; the nipples responding to it's caress, enlarging and protruding all the more, very much a woman. The result considerably different from that of the clothes I normally wear. Once again he goes to a drawer of the dresser, removing a pair of black panties, hose, and a black strap affair asking me to arrange them. "I'll help you if you are uncertain how to use the garter belt". I pull on the panties and although they cover me in front, they do very little for my backside allowing my derriere to remain exposed. Should I lean forward or separate my legs much - a slit opens in the crotch, I have already experienced this and know exactly what use is intended for it. Perhaps he may treat me more kindly than I have been treated before. Perhaps he may marry me were I to become pregnant. I may maintain my delusion, may I not?

Jerry assists me as I position the garter belt and fasten it to the hosiery. He then tries to locate a pair of shoes which will fit me properly. All that are here are either too small or miles too large so he has gone to the main residence to determine if any are up there which may fit my feet. During his absence I begin to explore the bedroom dressers and the closets, discovering only one of the dressers has women's clothing in it. Within one of the closets I find a treasure of skirts, pantsuits, blouses and dresses, plus three wigs. As my own hair is so short, I move a chair to the closet that I might reach the wigs. Selecting the one which looks as though it will reach down to my shoulder blades, I fluff and rearrange it a little to make it look more natural as I view myself in the mirror. I think it looks very natural, almost exactly my colour... very nice. Yes, it matches my own natural hair colour very well.

The chair is returned to it's proper place, while the wig remains upon my head. Since Jerry has not yet returned, I lay back on the bed resplendent in my cashmere, wig, and hosiery knowing what will inevitably come to pass. He has been correct about the brassiere, it fits well and my breasts are large with the nipples pressing forward into the sweater making small bumps upon it's shape, which due to the effect of the bra, causes the sweater to loom large and inviting where it covers my breasts. Definitely not the shape of a girl, but of a woman. The sensation is unbelievable as I move and the sweater softly caresses my nipples and causes them to remain prominent as my breasts stand proud. I move my hands gently down across my chest, over my breasts, and onto my stomach. I cannot but believe he is correct; "I am a woman".

I find it difficult to believe so much has happened. I have decided should it be necessary that I must give myself to men then I shall no longer do it because of fear but to obtain all I may from them. As I lay here thinking, I do not hear his quiet return until suddenly he is beside me gently caressing me, and then a short but passionate kiss. I try to pull away but he holds me there and I know now that it is 'time to pay the piper'. He begins to speak as he slowly assists me to my feet: "When Mary and I... I mean, your mother and I spoke, she said you were developing early and needed to be taught the proper ways of a woman. I thought she meant how to dress and talk, but you are enticing..." He kissed me once again while telling me how attractive a woman I am and how he will be teaching me how to be very feminine yet intelligent and aristocratic. "First you must learn to dress like a Lady and not as some tramp." I spend the remainder of the afternoon checking the fit of clothing from within the closet and before I know, it is five o'clock. He has not used me, so he must just be postponing it to another time.

Slowly he leans over and kisses me one last time before gently propelling me toward the dresser. "Now carefully remove those clothes and put them into the dresser, I will show you their locations, and when next you arrive you may go directly to the dresser and change to them. The clothing you wear to come here should go here and here in the closet... your shoes there, with the socks inside. Speaking of shoes, those shoes from the house will be right here but when next you come, instead of the sweater would you please put on this blouse and the brown Herringbone pants? You may wear any of the wigs if you like." "Thank-you", I say as I reach up placing my arms about his neck, pressing my breasts against his chest and kissing him briefly upon his lips. I finish changing to my school clothes as we make arraignments for me to arrive Saturday morning "around seven-thirty" to spend the day. It is now five-thirty and beginning to become dark so he drives me home, my bicycle in the trunk. "Here is a key to my cottage. If I am not home at the time you arrive, you may enter and go ahead and change. I would you should not tell anyone about the key or the clothing I have given to you. You may tell your mother I am teaching you chess and shall begin to tutor you in your class work Saturday." "Thank-you!" I said, "I'll look forward to returning Saturday" not really meaning it.

Thursday and Friday come and go. I miss seeing Jerry at school, I suppose I must have zigged as he zagged. Wednesday last, I received permission from mother to go to Jerry's house Saturday for more tutoring. She has also approved my studies during the week after school should he say it is 'ok'. "Has he said how much it is he wishes to charge for the tutoring?" I told her I would ask him. Saturday morning, what a 'wonderful' day, I am up at six am and by seven have no further excuse to remain at home. I carry my books out to the garage, place them into the carrier of my bicycle, say my goodbyes and pedal off to Torrey Pines.

It is far easier a ride than I had anticipated as I arrive at his cottage just past seven-forty. Unlocking the door I enter, close and lock the door behind me once again. Searching through the cottage I discover he is not home. Walking into the bedroom I change my clothing (as well as checking the fit of a skirt I find hanging alongside the pants) and begin to wait for him to arrive. Looking in the closet mirror I discover a young woman staring back at me. These clothes fit so much better than those which I had been wearing. The cut of the clothing makes a considerable difference in my appearance. The outcome is remarkable! In these pants, blouse, and heels I look like the wife of a millionaire just returned from an outing. Even the touch of this blouse upon my breasts causes the nipples to stand proud. They and my breasts obviously are those of a young lady, as they press against the fine quality of the expensive blouse imported from Italy. Looking through the dresser, I discover a few cosmetics so, as mother has shown me, I check the shades of lipstick and attempt to select the one which best matches my clothes, hair, and facial colouring.

Carefully I apply the lipstick, and then locate mascara. Gently applying it to my eyelashes, 'only a little,' mother has said, 'use black or dark brown.' Black is all I might locate, so that is the colour I use and once again look long and hard at the woman standing in the mirror before me. Perfume! Is there any perfume? Once again I search the dresser and finally locate, in a small top drawer, several fragrances. I do not recognize any of the names, and none of them match that fragrance which mother has allowed me to use. Taking a small sniff of each, I select the fragrance which I believe best compliments me, tilting the container over and back, withdrawing the applicator each time, applying it behind each ear and between my breasts. Once more, and a little on each wrist. While searching for the cosmetics I discover some "gold" jewelry in one drawer. I select and wind the watch, set the time then place it on my left wrist. The earrings I clip to my earlobes, and the necklace (a little long) placed such that it hangs down lightly upon my blouse. Looking in the mirror once again I discover - a woman! If I had not seen the transformation I would never believe it. I am stunned. I hope Jerry thinks I have done well. A knock at the door! Panic! Where is Jerry? Again, someone is knocking. Should I answer it? All Right, get a grip. "I'm coming," I call out. Reaching the door I pause a moment before unlocking it and turning the knob to open the door, "Yes, may I... Jerry?! You frightened me half to death." "Good morning Teddi, may I come in?", he asks as though this is my home and he just passing by. "Yes, of course you may." I reply. I stand on tiptoe and softly kiss his lips anticipating that which is coming but praying it will not.

He slowly and gently wraps his arm around me guiding me back into the room. Turning me toward the center of the room and the doorway of the bedroom, he gives me a gentle pat on my derriere as I begin to walk slowly in that direction. However, as I proceed toward the bedroom he turns and goes to the window. Confused, I reach the center of the room and turn toward him as he opens the curtains spilling sunlight into the room. He examines my attire, gently caresses my nipples, and says: "You are not wearing a chemise, come let me show you. It is what you should wear under your blouse," He tells me as though he must inform me of every move I am to make. We return to the bedroom and he rummages in the dresser then says: "I was certain there was one here, no matter. There will be one at the great house. I shall obtain it and return in just a few minutes." He hurries out the door and true to his word returns soon with a very short white satin slip.

I remove the blouse, and put on the... chemise, then once again the blouse. "Stunning, simply stunning." He murmurs, as he finally appears to notice my mascara and lipstick. "Who has shown you to apply makeup?" I reply, mother has instructed me in the proper application. Perfume she has applied for me and I remember how it was done. Holding me close, he examines my face and the way the wig matches my own hair. Examining every detail he goes again to the dresser and returns to tell me to carefully clean my fingernails. Once completed, he then shows me the proper way to buff my fingernails to bring up a shine. I ask him about applying fingernail polish and he tells me not to colour my fingernails. "There will be plenty of time for that when you are a little older. For now, simply apply some clear polish to protect the fine shine you have achieved." I smile at him. He makes comments to me which cause me to be happy and to understand that I am doing well. Again he rummages through the dresser and finally returns with the clear polish. I apply it and make a bit of a mess as I am nervous, but he tells me, "Teddi, what do you want for the first time you have done this? Perfection? You must allow room for improvement. How else will you gain confidence in your ability to be beautiful?" He embarrasses me sometimes. It is exciting.

As if just noticing the fragrance I am wearing, he exclaims to me: "You have good taste in selecting perfume Teddi, that fragrance suits you well. But come now, we must talk AND study. After all you ARE here to be tutored to improve your school grades!" and without skipping a beat, "You seem to have decided you are woman after all. How is it that you have arrived at this decision?" I reply: "You told me only girls and women have breasts, and mother said has said many times 'boys don't have breasts'. I have worn dresses, skirts, slacks, blouses, sometimes lipstick and mascara; and have assisted mother when she needs help to make alterations to her clothing. These clothes you have asked me to wear fit much more nicely than any others I have worn. My breasts are nearly fully developed, and are larger and more shapely than those of the other girls in my classes. My attitudes are less scattered and more refined than any of those others. Therefore, I must be a woman." "Very good," he replies, "By the way that was you and not your sister your mother brought with her last weekend to Food Basket, was it not?" I nod my head yes, and he said: "I think you are more a woman than you are a girl."

We continue talking for half the morning as he asks many questions about my life. Where I have lived, gone to school, and many other questions about my family and friends. During all this, I continue to check the fit of various articles of clothing (none is very good). The new pair of high heels are still a little large, although much improved over the others, at least I may walk while wearing them. He tells me we shall go shopping the first weekend he has the opportunity to be home, meanwhile he places small pads in these shoes such that my feet do not slip so much. "It will not do for you to cause harm to your feet simply because the shoes do not fit properly. As he continues his explanation, I learn that weekends are sometimes a difficult for him when his father is in Europe, as he then is expected to check upon several of his father's businesses each weekend and copy or leave reports at his father's request at each location. "I know it is busy work because PaPa could simply post or send them by faximile, but he has said he wishes the information to be handled by a family member whom he may trust. In truth, I must to go to Los Angeles this day and would very much appreciate the company of a young lady during the drive. Would you care to accompany me?" "Yes, I would love to go." "Before we depart, we must do something about your wig so it shall not blow off during the ride. As you know my car is a convertible. Come, I will show you how to secure it." After we fasten the wig securely to my head with theatrical adhesive, he brings out a dark brown jacket from the closet and assists me as I put it on over my blouse. A scarf then goes over my hair and we are off to LA.

He drives and we talk, although he does most of the talking during the trip up. "Teddi," he smiles at me, "I am going to create a persona for you. You carry yourself well and appear to be much older than just twelve or thirteen. You could pass for nineteen perhaps even twenty if you would but calm yourself merely a little. This June, I shall be returning to Italy for eight or ten weeks. My parents have become accustomed to seeing a young woman accompanying me. Also we may spend some time that I may show you around parts of Europe, would you like to go with me?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Mother would never allow it. But to spend time in Europe... "YES, I would like that very much. But mother will never approve. Besides I have nothing to wear." He begins laughing, holding out his hand to gently touch mine: "Isn't that just like a woman, even if the closet is full, she has nothing to wear." The rest of the trip up and back we engage only in light conversation, as we both are deep in thought. I know the day is young and even should the morning be spent in enjoyment the time will come when I shall necessarily need to pay the piper. Returning to La Jolla in the early afternoon we stopped for lunch (he paid). Upon arriving at his home we spend several hours in study to improve my grades. He makes it seem so easy. Then with a few short kisses I retire to the bedroom and change back to that clothing which I had worn while riding here this morning. We place my bicycle into the trunk of the car and he drives me home. The fee he sets at $35.00 per week to include three to six p.m. Tuesdays and Thursdays, and eight am to six p.m. Saturdays. He has not attempted to take me, but has treated me respectfully throughout the day. Well, that will never last. Once home I tell mother about the tutoring rates. She looks worried and says: "That is a lot of money, your grades better improve a lot." I try to explain how he makes it seem so easy but mother still looks worried.

The following week, we spend evenings in study. I find I am beginning to enjoy his hand touching mine and try to look attractive for him as he always has something nice to say about my appearance. Late Thursday afternoon, as we are practicing the Tango, one of his friends drops by, staying for a few minutes. I am introduced to him as Jerry's girl friend 'Teddi' and when Tony departs Jerry and I continue to dance for a short time before returning to studies once again. History, yeech... I am to take a history test this following Monday and have never been able to master that subject. Unfortunately Jerry does not seem to be able to improve my grasp of it. He has done wonders, however, for Mathematics, Science, and English grammar.

Unfortunately the following three weeks we are unable to study. During the evenings he is busy with school activities and on the weekends he must be away on business for his father. It has been some time now and he still has not taken me. I am actually beginning to enjoy his company although I am still somewhat apprehensive. I no longer feel ashamed or dirty when I am around him, and am able to look him in the eye when we talk. I even enjoy (and laugh) at his silly jokes. I am now looking forward to what little time we may have together. Our next opportunity to be together on a weekend shall be Saturday, March Fifth (about three months before he is to return to Europe). He has told me a secret, he is not whom he seems and is studying here at the direction of his parents. He did not, however, tell me who he really may be. When he finishes his studies this year he shall return to Europe and come here only occasionally on business. When he tells me this I become saddened, for I have come to enjoy his companionship and wit. I tell him I wish he was not leaving for I shall miss him terribly.

The first Saturday of those three weekends when Jerry is to be gone I ride to his cottage that morning. There I carefully dress in nice but casual clothing and the short blond wig. I then pedal my bicycle back into La Jolla to my rapist's apartment. If Jock follows true to form he shall not return home for another hour which affords me the opportunity to change to the bunny outfit, and hide my clothes and blond wig in an empty box in the closet. I then enter the kitchen where I remove five beers from the refrigerator. Pouring them into a pitcher, I add the contents of the two bottles of ant syrup I have brought with me, carefully stirring the mixture. Then I place it back into the refrigerator to remain cold. I then pulverize twenty of the sleeping tablets I had intended to use and add them to the mixture, stirring them into the mix. As I hear him come through the front door I pour a glass and walk out to greet him with the beer in hand. He stops and looks at me as I say: "I missed you, here is your beer."

He smiles his big wicked smile and gulps down the beer, then grabs me and kisses me while fondling my derriere and breasts. "Get me another beer!" I go into the kitchen where I refill his glass. Returning I find he is no longer clothed. He accepts the glass and tells me to lay on the floor. Gulping down this beer he then forcefully takes me. It hurts, for I do not immediately become moist but soon my body accepts the attention and the pain of it diminishes slightly. He continues to stroke deeply within me until he pulses many times. Finally allowing me to rise he tells me to bring him another beer. I return to the kitchen, the moisture and his sperm oozing out of me. While there I wipe myself on a towel just before returning to him with another beer from the pitcher.

Once with him again he grabs me, drinks his beer and lifts me to his "gun". Strutting around the room he holds me painfully on that long hard mass until once again it is pulsing within me the warmth of his sperm filling me again and again. "Get me a beer!" This is not good. I am destroyed. I bring out all that remains of the mix and give it to him. He drags me to the bedroom and throws me onto the bed, drinking part of the beer before placing the glass on the night stand. Once again he is on top of me, his great ugly face against mine as he rams his penis into me until it is so deep I begin to bleed. "Now I'll teach you not to run away from me." He strokes deeply in and out, deep and out; over and over and over until I think I shall feel it pass completely through me and cannot accept any more pain. Even then I begin to quiver and feel my body shake at the sensation of him in me then suddenly pause with pain from his thrust. Finally I cannot help myself and my legs and stomach contract against and around him.

Exhausted I lay back in pain as he continues to stroke in me until he pulses repeatedly. Finally he sits back while still within me and finishes his beer. I know he means to kill me, now that I once again have a reason to live. I have delivered myself to him and shall die as my plan has failed. I wonder if Jerry will mourn me? 'Jock' positions himself to place his penis in my mouth. I reached up and gently begin to stroke it as though to help guide it to my mouth. As it nears I lick the end and edge of it and he stops. "Come on honey, give me a blow job." he says as he lays back on the bed, moving me over where my mouth may continue to reach his penis. I slowly hold it in my mouth feeling revulsion building, the need to vomit becoming more and more pronounced, somehow I manage to close my lips around it, caressing it with my tongue. I begin to move up and down allowing it to move far into my mouth and then back to my lips all while slowly reaching up with my hands rubbing him on the inside of his legs and up to that sack. I gently caress the sack and he quivers and pulses into my throat (I was holding his penis far into my mouth at the time). Suddenly I squeeze the sack hard and bite his penis. I jump clear as he folds on the bed in pain, even then I seize the bedlamp and hit him repeatedly until he is unconscious. Removing the bunny costume, I shower, cleansing my vagina of his sperm as best I may. The bunny costume I simply allow to remain in the shower. I place a little toilet paper in my panties, dress in my nice clothes and blond wig once again. I then cover him with the bedding, wash the glass and pitcher, and clean the lamp where I have handled it. Locking the door behind me, I wipe off the door and knob, take my bicycle and ride back to Jerry's. There I have another shower cleansing once more my vagina of that small quantity of sperm which has oozed out, wishing I could remove all traces of that which he has deposited so deeply into me. He won't make any other girls feel dirty or ashamed. I wonder how many actually became courageous enough to take their lives. Once at the cottage I shower once again then change to my clothes and ride home vomiting several more times on the way. Again I am consuming those pills to prevent a pregnancy and shall continue until they are depleted.

March Fifth.

Our first week end together again. I arrive early at Jerry's cottage. He has asked I dress in the brown pants and green silk blouse. We talk as I change and I tell him I believe I am not pregnant but it may yet be a few weeks until I should be certain. He holds me close to him caressing my hair and saying, "Thank God Teddi, he is keeping you for someone who will treat you well. By the way, have you heard anything recently about the one who had raped you?" He watches my face carefully as I answer: "He must be afraid of you, he has not contacted me again. I thank-you." Nothing else is said of this and we begin to study. This we continue intensely until shortly before ten am when we depart for the shops in La Jolla. After hours of dresses, slacks, shoes, blouses, (undergarments), and more; I have had quite enough of shopping. We return with at least 20 outfits, blouses, hosiery, and shoes. Where could he have obtained all that money? The most frightening articles of clothing are a long, flowing (strapless) evening gown in emerald green with a shimmering bodice much like my own white gown, and a matching dark green bolero jacket. Oh, and that two-piece swim suit. The lower half fits flat and snug, but the top... oh the top, it does very little to conceal my breasts. Jerry seems to feel this is not a problem as on many beaches in Europe there is nothing worn at all. That statement really frightens me. I may be an attractive woman but I'm really a prude. I believe he realises how much that suit frightens me as he changes the subject quickly.

Once again at the cottage, he asks me to wait near the dining table as he goes to the bedroom, returning with a small jewelry box. Removing a 'diamond' ring from the box he places it on my finger, and tells me he will introduce me in the future as his fiancee whenever we should happen to meet someone. I cannot believe this is happening to me. He still has not taken me and treats me like I am a lady and not some tramp who has been used over and over and over. Thinking about that still causes me to cry. I wish it had never happened to me and I could come to Jerry unsoiled. Whenever I happen to think of it while in his presence he notices the tears lightly filling my eyes and immediately asks if I am well. His Fiancee, if only this fairy tale could be actuality rather than some borrowed illusion.

We contrive reasons to be together in order to continue my studies. The following two weeks still remaining somewhat of a problem for us. We do, however, manage to spend Saturdays together. The mornings are spent in study then we go to luncheon, and possibly a Stage production during the afternoon. The Old Globe is preparing for its summer stock which begins in June so one day he drives down early and convinces the costumer (a friend of his) to allow me to wear a pretty outfit which would be worn by someone portraying a serving girl. It looked very nice and Jerry took some photographs while I acted the part of a saucy maid. That afternoon (late) we walk barefoot together on the sand at Mission Beach. We somehow have found the time to do this occasionally and it is so nice to feel the water and sand moving between my toes and under my feet as we walk the edge of the shoreline hand in hand like real lovers. One weekend we go to L.A. attending an afternoon performance then drive to Mt. Wilson where we sit in the car watching people come and go at the observatory or looking out over the basin as we talk. I speak to Jerry of my dreams and hopes for the future (yes, once again I have hopes), and he about his parents and family. I have come to feel I know his mother, she sounds like a wonderful person.

With only six weeks remaining before he is to leave, we have once again been unable to see each other during the week save meeting occasionally after school for a moment or two. He finally makes arraignments for me to come to his home immediately after school this Friday (mother mentioned Jerry had spoken with her about my going to New York with him during the coming weekend). This he has explained is appropriate as mother has paid for many tutoring sessions which we have missed since he has been unable to attend the appointments. He shall pay the air-fare and my hotel room so she has given permission for me to go along. "Teddi needs be certain to take the text books," he tells us. She packs some clothes for me to wear (I later discover several new blouses and skirts are included). These I shall transfer to his car immediately following the end of the school day. I have once again undergone my period so God has indeed kept me well. If desires shall become reality perhaps He is saving me for Jerry.

Friday afternoon has arrived and we put my books, homework, and clothes into his car and after I say goodby to mother we are off to his home. We sleep at the Estate Friday night, he up at the great house and I at the cottage after we spend the remainder of the afternoon in intensive studies. Morning arrives quickly as the shrill of the telephone awakens me: "Hello? Jerry? What time is it? NOW? All right, I shall prepare. Bye." Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I arise to his VERY EARLY telephone call Saturday morning... By the way, my dreams have changed! I now dream of the day Jerry will be my husband and he shall be the one stroking in me over and over. The dreams still arouse me and I find myself waking moist and desirous of feeling my husband in me. My husband, I have actually begun to think of him as my life's partner. Is that not a wonderful concept?

I dress as he has requested. Last night packing what little clothing I shall need even as I lay out that which I intended to wear this morning. When Jerry and the chauffeur come to collect my cases and myself, I find he is dressed affluently as am I, much as we have been when going to a play. "Where are we going?", I ask, "Are we really going to New York?" "All a part of the plan, my dear. Come let me look at you and see how you have done. Did you find your matching purse and other items you will need?" I told him I had not noticed the purse (actually a clutch) so we gather it and a number of small items. Cosmetics, lipstick, perfume, keys, a small wallet into which he places nearly one thousand dollars (I counted it later). "A woman must have some 'mad money' in the event she wishes to purchase some little thing," he says. He then places a photograph of himself into my wallet as he informs me we shall have a photo taken of me at a studio later this morning. "Mother of God, it is Four o'clock and we have an airplane to catch."

My eyes betray amazement as he reaches into the closet drawing out a large package from which he brings a white fur stole lined in dark green satin to complement my emerald gown. Before helping me to wear it he walks to the dining room table where he placed a small jewelry case as he entered the cottage. Taking it up he returns and, as he approaches, opens it for me to see the contents. Inside there is a green necklace. Each of the twenty stones being about five eighths of an inch long, half as wide, and about an eighth of an inch thick. These are mounted in a golden lattice-work chain. There are also matching earrings, and a bracelet with twenty smaller green stones. He assists me by fastening my new necklace around my neck. I then add the earrings and bracelet as he collects and helps me with the stole. We walk out to the car (I, resplendent in my strapless gown, matching high heels, 'emeralds' and fur stole).

The driver (we are being chauffeured) opens my door and I enter the vehicle as elegantly as I may. Afterward he closes my door, walks around and opens Jerry's door, then enters the car himself and begins to drive. Jerry tells me that I have done very well getting in and should I but reverse that to exit I shall appear to be an upper class lady. "By the way," he murmurs, "remember, you will be introduced to anyone we meet during this weekend as my fiancee, Teddi Diane Winchester. Also, please do not alter your voice as it is perfect as it is." Why should it not be "perfect"? It is, after all, my voice.

We travel to Lindberg Field and drive to the private entrance. There a twin-engine jet aircraft is waiting. I discover upon boarding that the passenger compartment, which is large enough to accommodate 12, is empty. The pilot greets us saying he is pleased to meet me at Jerry's introduction of me to him. He then speaks with Jerry informing him the first leg of the flight will require about five hours. Shortly after he enters the cockpit we are in the air. During our preparation for takeoff Jerry gives me several pieces of paper saying; "Put these into your purse Teddi. During the next few hours you must study them carefully. One is your birth certificate which we will need later to obtain your passport. The necessary paperwork and photographs will be accomplished upon our arrival. And this.." he says, as he hands me a small atomizer, "is not perfume. I wish you to use it sparingly upon your chest, neck, and upper arms just before you would apply your perfume. It will intensify the perfume's effect and longevity." I accept the atomizer, placing it into my clutch then begin to examine the papers, wondering when mother might possibly have given him my birth certificate. Then, too, I wonder how we may obtain a passport in my name if I am to be Teddi Diane "Winchester". As I read the papers I discover 'my' certificate displays a birth date of Dec. 22, 1935 which indicates I am a little over 19 years old. The name displayed is Teddi Diane Winchester, and I have been born in Bethesda, Maryland. Other papers indicate I have been raised and schooled in Winchester, Virginia before transferring to European schools for the remainder of my elementary and secondary school years.

I begin to stammer out questions, but he looks at me and says, "A proper young lady does not ask those questions, Teddi. Suffice it to say that my family may obtain many things when necessary, not the least of these is your 'birth certificate'." Quietly I study the certificate and other papers, discovering I presently "live" in an apartment in Pacific Beach having moved recently from Los Angeles where I worked for nearly two years as a secretary (recently promoted to private secretary to the president). The company is new and conducts electronic research for the government. I have been earning slightly more than $14,000 per year (a small fortune) prior to this promotion and am now expected to travel with the president to any of several European locations on a frequent basis (it is for this reason I need a passport). San Diego is the selected location for a new facility and the president and I are down for two or three months to establish it. Additionally, I have recently received a Top Secret security clearance also necessary to my employ.

"Jerry, the pilot said the first leg of the journey is to be about five hours, where are we going?" This I ask as I gently kiss his cheek and rest my head upon my hand on his shoulder where my perfume will fill his nostrils. "Oh, ho. You are learning the wiles of a woman quickly, Teddi. But yes, I will tell you. We are going to Winchester, Virginia to obtain your passport, learner's permit for an auto, and other papers. There are offices in the city where you were raised that will open, when we arrive, just to issue these items to you. Yes, even though it is Saturday. It is for that reason we stop there on our way to our final destination. You must look important, but not too important. Sufficiently affluent to warrant the special treatment, but not gaudy. Your name alone is such that many will be willing to bend rules for you. With your name and mine we are a formidable pair. We will stop at a photography studio shortly after landing to have several photographs taken of you to be used to obtain your passport and other papers. For now you must study, you must know everything on these papers as well as you know your name. You need understand and be able to answer questions concerning your past as it is written on those sheets of paper. You must also pass the written driver's test, so you may obtain your permit. We will convert it to a license in two or three weeks. Now study, for I shall question you soon." His name??? All I know is Jerry. I have never been told his last name. Yet he seems to be saying his family name is important. I wonder when he will tell me?

I begin to read intently. Two hours later, Jerry questions me heartlessly as I make few errors. He tells me: "You have done extremely well. Review those items you have answered incorrectly. I shall quiz you again before we land." I did not study any further but answered all his questions correctly during the next quiz. The flight was very smooth and I enjoyed looking out the window. The land moves past so slowly, upon occasion I may see a river winding it's way through the land searching for a place to make a lake. We eventually learn we are to arrive nearly half an hour earlier than planned. Shortly before landing I use the lavatory and while there add some mist from the little atomizer on the locations as I have been instructed, applying fresh perfume once again before returning to my seat for the landing. I am beginning to believe Jerry may treat me as though I am still untainted, as though I am a fairy tale princess and he the prince, or as mother once described me, 'a Sleeping Beauty'.

I must have done very well in my studies for after traveling to each of the locations he desired, I possess a driver's license. The examiner said I 'may try the driving test as it would affect nothing if I were to fail it.' I Passed! That surprised Jerry, who has allowed me to drive his car only twice. Now he may begin to allow me to occasionally drive his car out on the roads when we are together. I also possess a passport, a three-week old Federal permit to carry a concealed weapon, and several other pieces of paper which are of little logic to me. What is a 'social security card'? Afterward, Jerry hands to me a 'Biretta 5mm eight-shot semi-automatic pistol' (some day I may even understand all that) and a hideaway holster which may be worn upon my leg beneath my dress. He has also 300 'rounds' (? I think this is slang for the bullets) of ammunition which have been placed in the trunk of thecar. Our next stop is a police range where I shall receive instruction in the proper handling of such a weapon. Into my clutch it goes (it is becoming very crowded in there) and we are off once again. "No one would expect so beautiful a young woman" (I think it is with Jerry that I learn to blush, it is so nice to hear him say these things) "to be carrying a weapon, especially in Europe, but it is there that she may most need it. It is a simple matter with a U.S. permit for us to obtain another from the new global law-enforcement agency INTERPOL."

I hope we have a little time to explore for it is very pretty here. The trees are turning green, some with many pink or white buds upon them. Flowers are blooming with so many colours. It is greatly different than San Diego. We have reached the range, I place my clutch, stole, and gloves onto a counter top which an enthusiastic young officer has cleaned thoroughly for me. They obviously do not often have a young lady in 'emeralds' come to fire a pistol at their range. After two hours and over 200 shots (fingernails may be a bother sometimes), I am able to place eight shots into much less than a four-inch group on a man sized silhouette at 50 feet, which impresses Jerry greatly (not to mention some of the younger officers). "My fiancée is quite good with her new toy." he said. "Now, just once, we will allow you to play with a bigger toy". His fiancee! This is so wonderful I pray it is not just a dream.

He motions to the officer who brings out another weapon and fires it down the range. It is a noisy sub-machine gun and all of his shots go into the target. Now it is my turn, he set it for a single shot and allows me to hold it. The weight is surprising as is the kick of the weapon. It hurts my shoulder. After several single shots he exchanges the magazine for another which has five rounds (now I know a bullet is the part which travels to the target as opposed to the 'brass' which is the part the gun spits out after it has been fired and a 'round' is both parts together). He places the weapon on full automatic and allows me to fire at the target after cautioning me to hold the barrel down as I fire in order to prevent the weapon from 'climbing' (I think I like my 5mm better). They chuckle as he tells me 'at least I placed four of the shots into the target', and I was doing an exceptional job placing my shots with the pistol. As we are driving away in the limousine the sounds of the shots still ringing in my ears despite the hearing protection, Jerry holds me close and says: "You are a very courageous young woman and I am pleased to have you as my fiancee." It is butterfly time. Whenever he complements me or I think of how it could be with him, my heart does flip-flops and my stomach flutters (Butterfly time). We, now, go to lunch at an 'expensive' restaurant here in Winchester before returning to the plane.

As we board, Jerry speaks with the pilots about the trip before he returns to me: "Try to rest, we will be flying for perhaps three hours. Late this afternoon we will check into a hotel then go on to see the stage play. Tomorrow we shall return home, studying as we fly to prepare you for your final school exams."

When the airplane finally lands it is a little after five in the evening. Because of the firearms, we may not simply depart in the limousine but must go inside the terminal and show our passports to the Customs people. We declared nothing save my jewelry and show them the Federal (U.S.) permit for my pistol, informing them we have come to see a stage play and to stay overnight, providing the hotel information to them. I receive additional paperwork to allow me to retain my firearm during our short stay in Canada. The customs people seemed overwhelmed to have both an Aldoennetti and a Winchester present. We are treated very courteously. Finally out in the limousine, we are driven rapidly to an expensive hotel where the management seem to know Jerry, they are very polite and helpful (falling all over themselves). Once they learn my name they are very polite to me also. After we view our suite I ask Jerry where it is we shall be going. Do you have a company here your father needs you to visit or some other business to transact? "No, Teddi. I wanted to take you out to the play, fine dinner and perhaps dancing, simply to allow us time alone together."

 

 

DANCING?!

Why is this frightening? I know we have practiced many, many times dancing together but... "BUT," I stammer, "the expense. The plane, the pilots,.. the fuel and time,.. This jewelry... Jerry!, are these genuine emeralds?" "Absolutely, my love, they are the best money may purchase." I nearly faint, "Jerry!" I say as I pull the earrings off my ears and fumble with the catch to remove the necklace, "Here. Take them back!" I hand him the earrings, still fumbling with the necklace. "They must be worth a fortune. You must return them!" "Ahh Teddi, Teddi. Such a woman you are, like MaMa. Don't spend the money, save it or put it in the company, I am just fine as I... am." "But Jerry, I am quite happy, really! I don't need this jewelry or the expensive trips. I am happy just to be with you, to stay at home with you, or listen to good music together, or read books, or help my husband in his work, or..." He turned, looking at me strangely as I realised that which I have said and begin to stammer: "OH! I... I mean... OH!"

"Why Teddi, you are blushing... You remind me much of MaMa. Perhaps I should have purchased rubies. They would match your present complexion much better." This simple statement has the effect of causing me to redden further, as he continues: "You are so different from the other girls I have known. All they want is money and spend, spend, spend. Here now, I will make a bargain with you. We do not return the jewelry, or clothes, and I will not take us on any long plane trips unless it is business also. Does this make you happy?" "Yes... No... I... I suppose so. I... I enjoy the attention you give to me. I find pleasure in the way you treat me respectfully and in how you try to... to do nice things for me. But couldn't you perhaps just give me flowers once in a while, or take me on a ride up to a hilltop where we may watch the world going by?" Then add quickly: "And not a truckload of flowers. I really don't need candy, or jewelry, or trips unless they are necessary for special or company occasions." "Women, you are an enigma to m..." he said as suddenly his expression became strange once again, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he realises and closes it. "Jerry, what's wrong? Jerry!?" "I... I forget you are so... you... I am trying to say,.. You... My dear sweet Teddi, you are so much a woman you overwhelm me."

We sit in the room quietly for perhaps five minutes just holding hands, looking at each other, happy to be together. Occasionally we slowly draw toward each other and kiss gently, then smile, embarrassed to be so captivated by the other. Finally we lean back to simply look at each other once more. It is as though we each are afraid the other will evaporate in a puff of smoke. Finally Jerry breaks the silence, "Come, my... my love, we must be off to the play. As we must travel some distance we must depart now or be late." He helps me to rise, assisting me once more with my stole and returning my earrings to me. In the limousine once again, as I am placing them upon my ears, he turns suddenly looking at me with some concern on his face saying: "I must apologize. I did not think to ask. Have you a problem possessing the little pistol I procured for you?" I told him I do not, but I have never shot anyone and am uncertain I shall be capable of accomplishing the act even should it be necessary. He looks relieved, placing his arm around me, holding me close: "My dear young woman, you continually amaze me. I do not believe it shall be a problem should you ever need to shoot anyone. If you begin now to decide how it must be done and how to reach your weapon quickly, then should it ever be necessary you will do it without thinking." I give this a great deal of thought even as I drift off to sleep against his strong shoulder, awakening as we arrive who knows where, the theater materializing before us. In we walk to a most wonderful program.

Camelot, the program is Camelot. A tale about King Arthur, Guenevere, Lancelot... The music is superb and the story well presented. Why is it we do not have programs like this in San Diego or Los Angeles? When the program had ended, we go backstage to meet the cast. I suppose they had been told there would be an Aldoennetti and a Winchester in the audience and 'went all out'. They seem well pleased we have enjoyed their performance. Afterward, we are chauffeured back to the hotel where we eat a scrumptious supper and dance many waltzes (and a few Tangos) in the hotel's enormous ballroom to music played by a real orchestra. My gown flaring and shimmering with each twirl or kick. They have played some Foxtrots (?) and Jerry wants to take me to the dance floor to teach the dance to me, however I simply cannot. This is not the same as dancing alone in the cottage.

We have the room almost to ourselves. There are perhaps seven or eight other couples of which perhaps four or five are dancing. I did not realise such grandeur still existed. As our last waltz ends, I discover we are dancing alone while the others watch us, my face turns quite red, Jerry laughs and says I am 'Belle grande'. We then depart the ballroom and return to our suite's vestibule where we say our good night before retiring (to our separate bedrooms). We shall be rising tomorrow about six and then on to breakfast before seven. Jerry has been such a gentleman, he has never attempted to come to my room, nor to take me. I am most appreciative of this, he treats me as though I am still a virgin and worthy of his love. To my shame I find that having felt the sensation and eventually the pleasure of mating, I desire him to place his maleness within me and bring me the pleasure of accepting him.

The next morning, refreshed, I clothe myself in the hunter's green sweater, dark brown trousers and jacket, with matching suede pumps. I like this selection, finding I wear it frequently because it goes so well with my deep-brown hair which today I have in a long Pony-Tail. Since I placed my jewelry into the hotel safe when we returned from the show last night, I telephone Jerry telling him I am about to go down to retrieve the jewelry. He tells me he also is about ready and has previously made arraignments for our luggage. I, therefore, stop at his room, give him a kiss and am off to the elevator (I shall meet him downstairs at the Concierge [that is a difficult word]). Upon retrieving my jewelry, I busy myself with travel brochures until Jerry arrives. We now go out to breakfast, then return to the airplane. As we fly back to San Diego, I continue my studies. (It pays off, an A on both the Math and Science exams). Mother is pleased and has said I may go with Jerry again two weeks hence, should he be unable to spend study time with me between now and then.

If my grades continue to improve I may receive an A in Science and a B in Math for the year (with a little more study I may even achieve an A in each). Oh yes, one more thing, Jerry asked me to go to the prom with him. He said I dance well and he will help me to learn some of the new 'dances' for the Prom since we have about a month to practice. (I accepted of course). During the flight we also conspire as Jerry shows me an advertisement for a summer wilderness camp. It is a camp where young children ages 12 to 15 may spend seven to ten weeks in a wilderness setting, learning to fend for themselves while still having adult supervision and the availability of medical facilities. He suggests I should attempt to 'make a deal' with mother and father to go to the camp if my grades continue to improve. The cost is not so great as other camps, still $200.00 plus travel to and from is a lot of money.

Father has said I may go to the camp should I have three A's and one B on my report card. I continue during the next week to try to alter his decision and after a great effort on my part he finally says I may go should I achieve two A's and one B with nothing else below a C. Almost a certainty. Science and/or Math shall be an A the other a guaranteed B, and Art is already an A unless I do something totally moronic... Mother and I have also arranged for me to go with Jerry on yet another trip as he and I shall not have any opportunities during the following two weeks to study further. If I do not have his assistance, then I may not obtain those grades I require to go to camp. I have told mother of the reality of the situation and how I may go to Europe to visit his parents and see parts of England, Italy, and perhaps France and Spain as well under cover of 'going to camp'. She understands completely and is attempting to help.

It is Thursday, the two weeks have come and gone in a flash. I shall miss school Friday but mother understands my grades are improving and I believe she also knows I now very much wish to be a Lady (and Jerry's wife). My heart aches to see Jerry and I constantly wonder if he really feels anything for me. Much of this must be due to my insecurities, for when he is near or I know where he has gone I do not have these concerns. I so badly desire to offer him all that a woman may give. It may happen, all of the doctors seem to have the same opinion, if the abnormalities are removed surgically, I am very likely ("probably a 90 or 95 % chance") to be capable of producing a natural birth without harm to my child or myself. Were I to become pregnant and attempt childbirth before they are removed, both I and my child shall die unless she were to be removed from within me surgically.

At last, the school day has ended and I am away with Jerry. Quickly to the cottage where I may change and pack. I require more than an hour to be ready but he says it is worth it. The luggage is removed and taken to the car. Now we are off to Lindberg field. Shortly after arriving we are airborne, flying to another of Jerry's surprise locations. We do not expect to arrive until Eleven or Midnight (it shall be a long trip). Once we arrive at our destination we shall go to a hotel for a few hours before we must leave to reach our Friday morning business appointment on time. Jerry has requested I be certain to bring my little toy (the automatic) and all of my papers. "We will have a busy day my love, so please sleep on the plane if you are able." It was necessary that he open the safe in the cottage that I could obtain my papers and automatic as I had forgotten the combination.

Now that we are flying I am excited with anticipation of the possibility of assisting Jerry in making a sale to the United Nations for one of their companies. We have, even now, been flying for nearly three hours as I make these entries in my diary. We land to refuel. Because of this we lose nearly an hour. Although once in the air again we shall yet travel several hours, we refuel now that we shall have more than enough to reach our destination. Once airborne Jerry leaves me and goes up with the pilots. He has been up there for most of the past half-hour. As there is no one back here with whom I may talk, I am becoming bored and drowsy. I believe I shall put my diary back into my purse and take a nap.

Finally realising it is silent, I awaken and look around. Jerry is missing, my jacket is laying over me like a blanket, the engines are not operating. I rise to discover the cabin door open, and upon looking out I see Jerry approaching the airplane as yet another limousine is making it's way toward us. When Jerry notices me standing in the doorway, he begins to walk toward me calling out: "Come, my dear, bring your jacket for we shall soon be on our way to the hotel." Upon retrieving my jacket and returning to the doorway I notice he has nearly reached me: "Did you sleep well?" I exit the aircraft as I tell him I slept quite well and all I require is a bath, change of clothes, and a little breakfast, then I shall be ready to continue. As I disembark, he holds my hand to assist me while saying: "It is a pity we have so little time to prepare you to meet MaMa," Why do I panic with that simple statement? He continues: "I believe if you could have six or seven months of training she would believe you to be of royalty. As it is, you are definitely a Lady of Breeding... Do you like dogs?" "But of course, I love them." I answer, "What breeds does your family raise?"

He laughs as he answers: "How is it you always seem to know if we are deeply involved in something or if it is simply a pastime? I may completely change the subject and you rebound immediately with a quick comment which demonstrates you understand. Teddi, I should have met you long ago, you are good for me. Come, my Love, I... come, I would show you something." We walk around the tail of the airplane to a small truck which is parked nearby. As we approach, he motions to the men standing near the truck who then unlock and open the rear of it, dragging a crate near to the edge. Opening a padlock in order to open the crate they then remove a rifle from within it. This they hand to Jerry. "We have come, my dear, to conduct a demonstration for the newly formed United Nations Security Agency at one of the nearby United States Army bases and, coincidentally, to several United States Generals who shall also be present.

Here, would you look at this?" he requests as he hands the rifle to me. I hold it, but do little other than examine it and open the breech. When I look at the men by the truck, one of them hands me an unloaded magazine which I accept, placing it into the rifle and completing the cycle of the action while careful to aim it away from everyone. They are impressed I believe. The lady has some experience with firearms. I find the release, removing the empty magazine and return it and the rifle to the same man, thanking him. I ask of Jerry: "Do you believe we shall be able to sell very many?" "We, my love? Yes, my father and I certainly hope to receive a large order. We shall meet him at the demonstration. Come, we must go to the hotel and prepare for the day. Do you believe you could fire one of those if asked to do so?" I told him if it was not on automatic I would try, but I prefer my little toy. He laughed again hugging me with one arm and said they must give me an opportunity to demonstrate to the military men what a determined lady might do with her little automatic. As the two men closed the back of the truck they have skeptical expressions on their faces.

We finally arrive at the hotel about one am... Less than an hour later we have completed our check-in and I am in the shower. The water is delicious and I decide should I be called upon to give a demonstration today then it shall not be in a dress so, after a nap, I change once again to pants, a turtleneck shell, and jacket. As Jerry has not telephoned that he is ready, I decide to place this time to full advantage. Removing the magazine from my pistol, I empty the chamber of it's solitary bullet and begin to practice rapidly removing the pistol from my clutch purse to a firing position. After a few minutes practice I again check to confirm the weapon is on safe, chamber a bullet, and place the loose round into the magazine for a total of eight in the weapon. Then it is placed once again into the small inside pocket of my clutch with the handle down for rapid access. Next, I place all the identification papers, passport, clearances, concealed weapon permit, my lipstick and my other necessary items into its confines. Purses should always be larger inside than they are without rather than the other way around. Sometimes it is so infuriating to attempt to organize such that everything fits. A touch from the atomizer, my perfume, and now I am ready.

As I finish, the telephone rings. It is Jerry asking me to meet him in the hallway and once again we are off. I am beginning to feel like a race horse, hurry here, hurry there, now wait for the bell, quickly now, run! Downstairs in the coffee shop we consume a quick meal. Jerry spends most of the meal openly staring at me as he eats. I cannot prevent myself but constantly turn red in the face at the slightest glance in his direction. He simply laughs quietly and blows me a kiss each time until finally he holds and kisses my hand. Suddenly, I realise I have been told his father will be at the demonstration and ask should he be upset that I am attending. Jerry explains his father is accustomed to him bringing along a girl friend but this time would be different. "...much different. First, You are very much a lady, your demeanor is considerably different than that of any of my previous acquaintances. Second, most women are either frightened or incapable of handling a weapon. He will be most impressed when you place three or four shots from your little pistol into a man-sized silhouette at 50 feet, especially if you are able to do so and maintain them in a group of 6 inches or less. Third, he knows I am now promised and will begin thinking that I am finally maturing, and I suppose I am. He will also start thinking about the possibility you may become his second daughter-in-law. Yes, he will be most impressed. But here, it is six o'clock and we must depart for our seven AM appointment. The demonstration has been scheduled to begin at seven-thirty. Are you nervous?"

Daughter-in-law??!!.

Does Jerry intend to marry me? He has been introducing me as his fiancee. Is this a proposal? I would that he truthfully intends this and it is not all some illusion. He asked me a question, what was it? I cannot think, oh yes. "YES, not about the demonstration, but about meeting your father. Does he have a title, or should I address him as Mr? Is there anything special I should know about him? Will he shake hands with me or should I offer my hand and he will hold it or kiss it? I don't know European customs! Do you... I mean..." I am just beginning to realise I am badly flustered, I think he just proposed to me. He calls me his fiancee. I can't think, I am happy and excited and anxious and nervous all at once. Jerry has begun to laugh, "You are refreshing, I will tell you as we ride to the military base. Just remember, be relaxed; he will not eat you,.. he has lost most of his teeth and wears dentures... Teddi?.. Teddi? That is a joke!" Sometimes his jokes are not all that amusing.

 (continued)

  

  

  

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