Gender Dysphoria

Also Known as

Gender Identity Disorder

My lover Shila and I sit in bed, and she leans her back against my breasts. She is dressed in a T-shirt and boxers. I am dressed the same as Shila, except, I have a pit-rot shirt on showing my tattoo covering my right shoulder. We are slowly falling asleep in each other’s arms. I stroke her hair with my fingers gently massaging her head. Kissing softly and nibbling her hair. I drop my arms, slowly slipping them under her shirt. I cross my arms laying them flat on top of her stomach. Raising up my arms so they both touch right underneath her breasts, and I squeeze. Shila tears my arms apart and holds them at her sides!

I am confused; but then again I have been confused lately because she has been acting weird. I think about it and decide that something must be going on, and that I should talk to her about it. And the idea that she has been cold is not like her. She has high libido. Enough so, that I sometimes kid her about being a pig.

She digs her nails into my arms.

I softly say to her,

"You’re hurting me. Stop."

She lets go and starts breathing heavily and eventually falls asleep. A soft snoring fills the room.

I still wonder,

"why? What is wrong with her?"

6 a.m., the alarm goes off and I groggily lift my head and blink my eyes.

"I am going to hit the shower,"

I playfully slap her ass while she walks by me heading off into the horizon. I stand outside of the bathroom and Shila’s voice is heard as she sings, "Closer to Fine" at the top of her lungs. She is a soprano and her voice is rich with sound. I sing backup and the two of us together make tranquillity.

7 a.m. roles around and I grab my bag and lunch. I softly shut the front door making sure that it does not slam since it is so easy to do and set forth to the Max stop. I love looking on the Banfield, and laugh at everyone in their sports utility vehicles that are stuck in traffic,

"If you weren’t so uppity you would be at work by now."

I get off Max and walk the block or two to work. While taking the elevator up to the 9^th floor, I run into John who is known as the fag of the office. He likes the name actually, and when he introduces himself to others he says,

"Hello, I am John, otherwise known as the fag of this office."

People usually stare at him with their mouth wide open thinking that he must be kidding.

"No I am serious. You are welcome to call me that. I find no offense,"

People still stare and some remain speechless for a very long time.

So the two of us talk small talk and get off the elevator together. John going left and me going right each to our own cubicles. I automatically check my email when I turn on my computer. I get annoyed when looking at my inbox because I find six pieces of junk mail. I delete them all and start work. Paging a clerk, I ask for a folder titled, "Rights and Responsibilities of the Insane".

I am doing a paper on the insane for my boss who is head of a social service program. So I am reading about the insane. Any and all articles and journals that have been put out I read them. It is an interesting job I must say. Even though at times it can be boring.

5:30 p.m. comes and I pack up my bag and leave my cubicle heading home. Max comes and I get on. I find a seat and sit down and fall a sleep. I wake right at my stop and fumble around trying to get off.

I reach my apartment and my lover greets me.

"What are we having?"

"Salmon,"

The fish is in the oven and we talk as she prepares the side dish of pilaf.

"So did you talk to John today?"

"Of course. We talked about a play, and I just can’t think of the name of it, but he says that we should go."

"Oh how nice, yes we should get out more often."

The timer honks its horn notifying that the food is done. I bring the food to the table as she sets it. I serve her and then myself. We eat in silence. It is a tranquil silence and I enjoy it much. Shila clears the table as I take my shoes off. I kind of forgot to do this when I came in this evening. I usually do it first thing.

After dishes, Shila leans against the bedroom doorframe, and she gives me this look.

This look that says,

"Torture me. I dare you."

I glare back with a look that says,

"Make me bitch. Just make me,"

The mood increases and I stomp over to her. She grabs my shirt and pulls it close. I grab her tie at the same time. She drags me into the room. I turn her so her back is facing the bed and I push her backwards. She remains motionless while I strip my slacks off and toss them over a chair. I slip my boxers off and throw them into a corner.

"Where did I put it?"

I spend a minuet looking and find it under the bed. I put my feet in it and pull it up around my waist. I inch towards my lover and put my hands outside of her so I am looking down from above. She glares at me while I soak in her eyes. Deep and penetrating they are. I bend my head down towards her and kiss her on the mouth. She kisses me back softly. We suck the life out of each other. I get on one knee and pull her shirt out. I slip my hands under as I inch up her cavity and start to undo her bra. She pushes my hands away. I change my position and undo her pants and tug to get them off of her. I have trouble getting them off because of how she is laying on the bed. I pull her boxers off and have as much trouble as I did with the pants.

When I get them off I use one of my knees to separate her legs. I inch closer to her and use a finger covered in latex and open up her lips. While tickling her cherry she starts to purr. I bite her navel and suck it clean. I come closer to her and let the tip of my cock, touch her pussy. She is purring loudly and the more I rub her clit the louder she purrs. I ease forward and gently slide the dildo inside of her.

"NO!"

"Ouch!"

"What the fuck was that for?"

"Jesus, what did I do? "

She starts to cry. She cries as though she is hurt. She always likes being touched from the inside out. Why now? What did I do wrong?

A few minuets later, I tell her,

"I am sorry for yelling."

I put my arms around her and hug her close. I try to calm her down. I help her put her boxers back on. And she struggles as she does that. I also throw my boxers back on and we sit on the bed.

"I have something to tell you."

"What darling?"

"I‘m changing. I don’t feel like a woman anymore. I never really have. I just. . . I just went with the flow. Played the role of the dyke. I lied to you and myself about enjoying penetration. I thought that I am supposed to like it. I want to be a man. And if I transition I will be a freak. Freaks are on talk shows. I don’t want to be one of them. I just thought that this was a phase and would go away.

You and others kid me about wearing a tie. I feel like a man when I do. I feel whole and complete. There are things that I want to do, like use the men’s restroom, that I can’t do until I transition. Things that most people don’t understand. There are things that I don’t like as in my female parts. I hate them. Never liked them. I want to slice my breasts off. I dream about this every night. I wince internally when you touch them because they remind me that I am female. Yes I like the sensation, but I don’t want to be a woman I want to be a man!"

I hold her for a very long time. I don’t know what to say. What to do.

"I am sorry that I hurt you."

She slowly falls asleep in my arms and I kiss her head.

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