Transition

Transition by Jessica Vanderhof St. Claire, MD, PhD. As told to JURGEN VON STUKA ISBN 13: 978-1-935897-92-7 A Pink Flamingo Ebook Publication Copyright © 2011, All rights reserved With the exception of quotes used in reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying recording or otherwise without prior written permission of the publishers. For information contact: Pink Flamingo Publications www.pinkflamingo.com P.O. Box 632 Richland, MI 49083 USA Email Comments: comments@pinkflamingo.com Fictional account of a young man’s gender transition. Contents may be objectionable to some. ©Jurgen Von Stuka 2010 Author’s Notes When noted German psychologist, Jessica V. St. Claire, PhD, and I first discussed this story, I was not inclined to pursue the idea, mostly because it was outside the realm of my own field of erotica. Further, the relationship between a patient and his or her physician is highly confidential and this was a rather sensitive topic. However, over time, as I learned more about Don, I saw the strong overtones of a femdom adventure and decided to record, over several months, the doctor’s narrative. What follows here is St. Claire’s historical record of one of her more interesting patients. Obviously, the names, times and places have been altered. JvS Frankfurt, May 2011 Physician’s Commentary The societal barriers to everything s****l having to do with “trans” are manifest. The terms trans s****l, trans gender, transvestite and other similar words and phrases still, even though this is the 21st century, do not sit well with most cultures. While great progress has been made in softening the issues of homosexuality, those men and women who seek to dramatically alter their gender or their gender identification/appearance still find a lack of acceptance in the public arena. In many countries, the employment prospects for those attempting to switch their s*x, temporarily or permanently, are still extremely limited and political and religious resistance to such concepts remains strong. Thus, the “trans” people find themselves in one of three situations: 1. Under cover - They remain essentially a closet case and will never be able to reveal or resolve their desires in public, or 2. Testing - They may be experimental. On some occasions and with a limited audience, they may cross dress and test their psychological and physiological needs with family, friends or others. This group also may initiate the transition only to find that a variety of obstacles prevents them from reaching their final goal. Often, these individuals become TS, pre-op persons who essentially have altered or partial s*x organs, having given up some part of one gender and not yet gained enough of the other to become a member of the third group. 3. Trans - These people may somehow manage to execute the change completely and thus become total transits from one s*x to another. This group is extremely small and is made up of those who are able, mentally, financially and physically to make a complete s****l transfer. They are the total trans group. For all of the above categories, s****l activity, (if there is any), and other interaction with the same or opposite genders, depending on their preferences, may greatly complicate their already frustrating lives. Acceptance of the transition, regardless of the degree to level of success, is perhaps the most onerous challenge. This story is fictitious, but has many true elements to it. Don begins as a closet TV, doesn’t understand why he has these needs and ends up, unwillingly, as a trans person, having partly crossed over from male to female, at least physically. The story illustrates the old cliché “Be careful what you ask for”. J. V. St.Claire MD, PhD Prologue The stunning young woman turned several heads as she strolled along the Singapore River Promenade walkway on the bright and warm springtime morning. No one who glanced at her or checked out her remarkably good looks and superb figure would have ever guessed that she hadn’t always been the lovely woman they now saw. No one would have guessed that a few long and painful years before, she had been a he, and not an especially attractive or notable one at that. Observers would have been shocked to know even a few details of what she had experienced during this remarkable transformation and no one would have guessed that someone looking not at all like her, but with the same fingerprints and DNA, was being sought by police for questioning in the disappearance of two local VIP’s. Even if they knew this, those same observers would probably state unequivocally that this could not be the person who was wanted for such heinous deeds. Charlene Morton Stockton, whose passport and other documents showed her to be native of Silvermine, Connecticut, USA, walked to the edge of the stone breakwater wall and threw a small package as far out into the harbor as she could. The wire bound object made a small splash when it hit the water and sank instantly. No one except Charlene saw this. And no one would ever find the package because a combination of chemicals inside activated as soon as it hit the water. The reaction was already destroying the package and its contents. Charlene gazed at the slowly rising sun in the distant east, pulled the black cotton sweater more tightly around her shapely body and walked back down the quay. In a few more hours, she would be, like the package thrown into the harbor, gone forever and no one would ever connect her to the disappearance of Mr. M and his faithful partner and girl friend, Mavis Hennessy. Harriett & John “I know it’s silly, John, but I still wish we had opted for the girl.” Harriett Sampler said in a somewhat detached manner to her husband as he watched their thirteen year old son, Donald, romp in the yard of their country home. “I know, Harriett,” John said, thoughtfully, studying the child’s graceful, athletic movements as he bounced on the trampoline. “Still, he is a fine boy and growing up much too quickly.” “He should be taller,” Harriett complained; already back to reading her bank’s quarterly reports and worrying about the next quarter’s results. “And maybe a bit heavier,” she added without looking up. “Maybe so, but if the number of girl friends he already has is any indication, I don’t think size or height are going to make any difference in his social life. He’ll be a lady killer and he may grow taller even now. Some kids are just late bloomers.” “Yes, sure, John,” Harriett countered, not looking up from her papers. “God help him if he ever finds out what we did.” “He won’t. He’s already messing up his sheets at night. Nothing wrong with his s*x, my dear.” “Lord, I hope not,” she said, with a certain finality. “I hope not.” Marti At 19, Don Jones sat in his psychiatrist’s office and, after many months of psychotherapy, finally wondered aloud if, at this age, he was too old to become a girl. “What an odd question,” Marti, his shrink, impulsively and unprofessionally responded that day when Don finally, after hours and hours on the psychiatrist’s couch, confessed that he thought he would have been happier if he were able to dress and perhaps even act like a woman some of the time. He carefully qualified this by saying that he had no interests in s****l relations with men and was not in the least attracted to other males. Knowing from their many previous sessions that Don was trying to cope with some gender resolving issues, Marti was pleased that they were at a sort of watershed point on this topic. Marti asked him if he thought he was really a woman inside and wanted, more than anything else, to be female all of the time. This question suddenly triggered memories that Don had not experienced recently. They were thoughts that he continued to try to suppress. He lapsed for a moment into one of his day dreams and forgot that he was lying on Marti’s couch, staring at the ceiling. From the darkness of his subconscious, a scene of a human s****l layer cake arose. He was in bed with three beautiful young women. All were naked and he was, as he saw himself from a distance, not a man, but rather a quite attractive female, naked and displaying fine, youthful breasts, long legs, lovely full lips, dark brown hair in a ponytail and, surprisingly, a long, erect p***s… He shuddered unknowingly on the couch as he recalled the feeling of the fat, greasy strap-on dildo that one of the women drove, with great vigor, up his ass. She was under him and thrusting upwards while he drove his own d**k into another dark-haired beauty that was lying reversed on top of him with her head buried in the crotch of the woman underneath. The third woman also stood over him, her legs spread wide to accommodate the two bodies beneath her. Don had his tongue all the way up inside this girl’s sopping p***y and was manipulating a large vibrator in her ass. The day dream was so vivid that he was shaking on the couch, mumbling to himself. Don only snapped out of it when Marti stood up and walked over to him, touched him lightly on the shoulder and called his name. “Don. Don!” Marti said loudly enough to wake him from the strangely realistic image before his eyes. “Are you okay?” Marti asked. “Yea…yeah. I just sort of went into a trance,” Don said dully. “Are you back with us now?” “Yes. Sure. I was thinking back to another place, I guess,” he said. “Were you just fantasizing?” “No. It was a real memory, I’m sure of that,” he said. “Can you tell me about it?” “I was a woman in bed with three other women, except that I still had a c**k and we were all fucking.” “Very graphic, Don,” Marti said, writing notes on her pad. “Do you often have this fantasy?” “It’s not a fantasy,” Don insisted. “It really happened. I’m sure of it.” “When, Don?” “I don’t know. Maybe in the future. I don’t know, but it’s very vivid and I’ve had it before.” “Do you know the other women in the dream?” “Yes. Well, not all of them. Some I think,” he said, trying to recall the scene again. “Don,” said Marti carefully. “Do you see yourself as a woman often?” “No, not all the time,” Don said hesitantly. He tried once again to explain that he was essentially a heterosexual male with all the normal male equipment and urges, but that he was driven to have the look and the clothes that a normal woman might have. “I want it, but my head says that it’s not realistic or possible,” he added. “What is stopping you?” “I think society’s double standard makes it impossible. It’s so frustrating.” “What do you mean by that?” Marti, an attractive woman in her mid thirties, asked, crossing her legs and not bothering to tug her already short skirt’s hem down to a more respectable level on her exposed thighs. “I just don’t understand the double standard about cross dressing,” Don said, unhappily, staring unconsciously at Marti’s knees and half exposed thighs. “You mean the one way gender dressing thing?” suggested Marti. “Yeah, I guess so,” Don answered tentatively. “And other stuff,” he added quickly. “I mean, a woman can dress like a man, cut her hair like a man, and even go to work and be in any public place looking and dressing as a male and no one gets upset about it, unless she gets, well, dykish about it. I can’t think of anything a woman might wear that isn’t acceptable.” “Probably true,” said Marti. “But what do you consider “dykish”?” “You know. She goes too far butch and ends up looking like a woman who is trying to look like a man but everyone knows she is a woman.” “Probably true also,” said Marti. “I see that sometimes. My advice to them is to tone it down a few notches and it will smooth out over time.” “Yeah. Sure, but what do you tell guys who simply want to make the temporary transition?” “I agree with you. It’s much harder. Although even for women, there are some exposure barriers. A woman, for example, generally cannot take off her shirt and expose her breasts in public, no matter what gender clothes she’s wearing.” “That’s bull,” said Don, getting agitated. “If you mean that she can’t show a bare n****e in public, I agree. But there are no other restraints, really. A tee shirt with no bra is accepted by most people and even as you go up the society ladder, it’s even considered fashionable to adopt the half girl, half boy look. Why are high fashion models so skinny? They crop their hair short, have almost no ass or t**s and often can easily pass for a boy.”