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If He Will Not Bow, Let Him Curtsy by Susan Fantasy No one in North America Central (the World Region that formerly had been the continental United States) knew exactly when, as the whole matter had an A-Neutronic classification (the same as nuclear secrets), but a cure for homosexuality had been found. It was named Rubin Imprint Technology (RIT). It was not a perfect cure. Certain categories of homosexuals such as children younger than twelve and adults past forty-five had some resistance to it. But in the main RIT could render any homosexual, male or female, a heterosexual with mild homosexual impulses if it could not cure him or her altogether; and with the exception of the middle-class and wealthier non- Jewish Whites, along with the Puerto Ricans, and the Blacks of the inner-city ghettos, all the ethnic groups existing in North America Central used it as extensively and as automatically as antibiotics would be used to counter an infection; and homosexuality was eliminated in all these groups. A number of subcategories of the non-Jewish White group used RIT extensively. This was true of several religious groups such as the Baptists, also of the far-right political group, and the rural poor. But considered as a whole the frequency of homosexuality was unaffected by the advent of RIT in the non-Jewish White group. In fact, there the frequency of lesbianism increased. In the year 2028 nearly one eighth of the non-Jewish White female adults of North America Central were lesbians who adhered to an ideology that viewed maleness, insofar as this meant a quality of the mind or spirit, in a bad light. While these women would never have sexual relations with men, not only because they did not desire it but because they considered it an act of treason, they would nonetheless usually conceive children. They would do this by means of artificial insemination. And often, though boy children were not desired by these mothers and various medical procedures, especially abortion, were used to prevent boys from being born to them, they would nonetheless give birth to boys. About a fourth of these women's children were boys. Due to their ideology, these mothers did not want their boy children to become overly masculine in personality; and to accomplish this it was a very common practice to forcibly crossdress them: to force them to wear girls' clothes. And though this would not happen often, sometimes a boy of this group would resist being crossdressed so adamantly that there would occur an explosion, a criminal act of violence. Such was the case of fourteen year old Tom Blake, whose stubborn resistance to being crossdressed led to disaster for seventeen year old Lenny Levins regarding his prospects for a career in medicine. Young Levins lost the full use of a hand, thus his dream of becoming a surgeon, as a result of being beaten with a baseball bat by the female version of Tom Blake. Tom Blake was a small boy who was troubled by his smallness. Had he developed physically at the normal rate he would probably would have turned out socially well adjusted and successful regarding those things society valued, for his innate intelligence was above average and he was fairly exceptional in that quality known as energy or drive. But his small size gave rise to neurosis and he did not adjust well in society. Tom's hair was very blond and this embarrassed him - the fact that his hair had not turned darker signified immaturity, to his mind, and made him look younger. Tom's build was slight but he was unusually wiry or hard. Tom wore his hair long - which at the time was a symbol of rebelliousness. And a rebel he was. Many considered him a hoodlum. By way of religion Tom Blake was an Atheist. Lenny Levins was a success in many ways. He did extremely well in school and all his teachers liked him. He was also prominent among his peers - he was the President of the local chapter of the Lesbianite Boys Club. He was a tall, slender yet muscular, handsome youth with dark, curly, medium length hair. He would have been popular with the girls except that he had no interest in them. Not that he was homosexual. He was a trans-fan - his interest was transsexuals. By way of religion Lenny Levins was Unitarian. Lenny's mother, Ms. Ruth Levins, came from a wealthy Jewish family. Her grandfather, a German Jew, had made the family fortune upon immigrating to what was then the United States following the second world war. He was an engineer who developed several patents that were used by the Detroit auto makers. He became a millionaire while still a young man, and his son grew up to be an astute businessman who multiplied the family wealth many times over through intelligent investments. As a young woman Ms. Levins had lived in Israel while holding a dual citizenship: Israeli and North America Central. There she earned a Doctorate in physical anthropology; and for a number of years she participated in diggings at various sites in Israel, and, generally, she absorbed herself in the anthropological study of the ancient Jews. But after the development of RIT her homosexuality became increasingly a problem for her in Israel; and she returned to North America Central and became a patroness of the arts. At first the liberal Jews of North America Central accepted her as a lesbian and did not press her to become heterosexual through RIT. But this acceptance rapidly eroded with time, and, in 2017, at the age of 37, she converted to Unitarianism and began building a new social life among liberal non-Jews - lesbians in particular, of course - while holding a measure of bitter feelings toward the Jewish community. Tom Blake's mother, Laura Blake, was an artist - a painter. All her work had a feminist theme. She would paint women with strong legs and in a small way was famous for her strong-legged women. Ms. Blake could not live at her comfort level on what sales of her paintings brought her, however - though her comfort level was hardly immodest. Through the influence of Ms. Levins and some other powerful women of the Lesbian group she was given a part-time job as an instructor in the Art Department of a local Community College - though she lacked the academic credentials for this position. Ms. Blake was a short yet attractive women of thirty-eight years. Her hair was medium brown and straight, her eyes hazel, her face was attractively made and apart from being somewhat plump she had a nice figure. She would always wear jeans and her clothes would usually be spotted with various colors of oil paint. Ms. Blake owned a ranch-style house in a neighborhood that was lived in largely by teachers, firemen and police. She had built a large skylight in the livingroom of this house; this room was her studio. The house was always very cluttered - though it was not quite enough of a mess to bring complaints from her neighbors or the officials whose task it was to ensure hygiene. In the warm months of the year (the location was a western suburb of Chicago) she would have her son Tom mow the sizable lawn as terms for his modest allowance, and he would not do a very diligent job - but again, the yard was not quite shabby enough to cause complaints from the neighbors. By way of religion Ms. Blake was an Atheist. Petticoat flogging, as the practice of crossdressing boys for punishment was called, was disapproved of in mainstream quarters of North America Centralist society. The political right- wing, whose views were largely conditioned by the Bible, disapproved of it in no mild way and would often make an issue of this practice of the lesbian group in their publications and on their web sites. Yet there were some very conservative types who knew young Tom Blake who were willing to make an exception to their opposition to this custom in his particular case. For instance, Mr. Smith, a fundamentalist Christian who was the boy's homeroom teacher at Jefferson Junior High School, (it was the first class of the day; the subject was English), was convinced that the boy was possessed by demons. Mr. Smith "smelled it coming" that the lesbians who controlled the social quarters in which the boy lived would petticoat flog him, and though he strongly opposed this practice in a general way, he welcomed it in this boy's case. Mr. Smith hoped they would petticoat flog young Tom Blake very thoroughly; he hoped they would make him wear girls' clothes to school. Most of the teachers at Jefferson Junior High School who had had the boy in one of their classes felt similarly. The boy was anti- authoritarian and generally speaking was a troublemaker. The consensus of the Jefferson teachers who knew Tom Blake from their classes was that if any boy deserved to be petticoat flogged it was he. Meanwhile the boy was well liked by many of his peers. He was talented at sports, and because he was an unusually small boy, (Tom had been the smallest boy of his age group since kindergarten; and at Jefferson School, where he was a ninth grader, he was smaller than all but few of the seventh graders), he had acquired a reputation among the ballplayers as one who had overcome a handicap. This proved he had spirit, as his peers viewed it, and this gave him status and made him popular among those boys who liked to think of themselves as boys who had spirit. Young Tom knew that the women who ruled the social quarters in which he lived wanted to make him wear girls' clothes. His mother had ordered him to do this on several occasions (to no avail); and he would commonly hear remarks made by his mother's women friends that he should be encouraged to be in better touch with his feminine side. But he was too strong for this, or so he felt. Whenever this subject came up at home there would occur an encounter between him and his mother in which he would actually see fear in her eyes. She was not strong enough to do this to him - he was too much for her, he felt. Thus, young Tom did not worry about this threat coming to pass; he was sure that this could not be done in his case. To the typical boy of the lesbian group being made to wear girls' clothes was no big deal. Most would choose this over being physically whipped - at least, if it were only to be for a day or two. The taunts and looks they would receive from mainstream boys, and especially from right-wing boys, would cause some feelings of shame; yet these feelings would not be strong or especially painful, for on a deeper level they felt they had nothing to be ashamed of - the group they belonged to had different customs, that was all. In this respect young Tom was highly nontypical for a boy of his group. In a profound way he felt that wearing girls' clothes was shameful and he absolutely refused to do it. This attitude of Tom's got him in more trouble with the Lesbianites than anything else. There were women of the group who viewed him as being a radical violator of the group's basic ideology. They saw him as having a male spirit that was out of control and oppressive of others, especially females, and it was a basic tenet of their ideology that in their own group, where they had control, they should ensure that such male personalities did not develop. But this philosophical consideration was not what was behind the consensus that eventually formed among the group's leaders that something drastic had to be done with him. Rather, the cause of this was Tom's stupidity in the area of social relations. Of course, a boy who was not yet fifteen could hardly be blamed for such social immaturity. But what was happening was he was causing other boys of his group to hate him and to seek revenge. Something about his mind was able to penetrate their defenses and cause them to feel ashamed of being crossdressed, of submitting to this. There was something uncanny about the effect that young Tom would have on other Lesbianite boys concerning their occasional wearing of girls' clothes. The taunting of the right-wing boys could not touch them so, or so affect them. Young Tom could really affect these boys. He could make them feel rotten about themselves; he could make them experience true anguish. And this would happen pretty often. Thus, if Tom had only had the foresight that it would be natural for the boys of his group to want revenge for the pain he had caused them and that it served his own interest to be more considerate of their feelings in his social interactions with them, the consensus that something had to be done about him probably would not have built up - for it was the boys of his group wanting to humble him more than the purely philosophical concerns of some of the women that gave rise to this situation. And it came to pass that something was indeed done about young Tom - though he did not find out what this was until several months later. Beginning in January of his ninth grade year Tom began having lapses of memory. This would only happen on the weekends. An entire day, sometimes Saturday, sometimes Sunday, would turn up missing. That whole day just seemed never to have happened. This occurred every weekend from early January until near the end of March, when it suddenly stopped. Another unusual thing that happened during this period was Tom developed a nasty red rash on his chest. This rash made a circle of about a three inch radius centered around each of his nipples. It was with him for nearly a month, then it quickly healed and vanished. Yet the strangest thing of all, concerning this three month period of Tom's life, was he started having sexual fantasies of the transvestite variety. The first of these occurred in mid January. One night he had a sexual dream unlike any he'd ever had before: he dreamt of himself dressed in effeminate short trousers. The short trousers had straps that crossed behind his back and where they attached in front at the waist there were two large effeminate buttons called fish-eye buttons. Also, these short trousers he wore had no fly; they fastened in the back. Soon Tom would have this dream every night. It was accompanied with extreme sexual arousal. And during the day, both at home and at school, this dream began occurring as a daydream - again, with much sexual arousal. Progressively the short trousers became skirts or dresses. The large fish- eye buttons remained a constant. The skirts and dresses would have them too. Like a mushroom this transvestite sexuality appeared virtually overnight. Until the first dream of this sort in mid January this sexuality did not exist in Tom. By the end of March it was with him all the time. By then he was consumed by it. By then hardly an hour would pass, even when he was in school or otherwise in public, in which Tom did not briefly yet very realistically hallucinate that he was wearing one of his girls' outfits with the large fish-eye buttons. Tom's ninth grade class of three hundred students at Jefferson contained fourteen male to female transsexuals. The other two classes at Jefferson, the seventh and eighth grade classes, each contained a similar number of such students. Before the transvestite sexuality began developing in him in January Tom had purposely kept a distance from these students - "sissies," as they were called. It had made him uncomfortable to be seen talking to one or even walking along close to one, as though they might be together. But as his transvestite sexuality mounted in strength (a process that occurred at a rapid rate) Tom's disposition toward the sissies at school changed. At a deep or subconscious level the thought that he was one of them was born and began to grow. On a conscious level Tom revolted against this, and shunned the sissies now in a pronounced, exaggerated way. Meanwhile there was a change in his behavior regarding the boys, especially the ballplayers. He feared that they would reject him; this undercurrent of apprehension gave rise to neurotic behavior in his dealings with them. April 16 In the seventh inning of a game between Jefferson and a rival in their conference the boy who had taken Tom's place as the starting shortstop of the Jefferson varsity baseball team sprained his ankle sliding into third (safely), and Tom, who had been demoted to second string, was put in to play. There were about forty spectators in the bleachers, and when Tom took his position as the runner on third base one of these spectators caught his attention: it was a Jefferson transsexual. Tom knew this transsexual girl mostly through his mother. (Ms. Smith, a Lesbianite who was a friend of Tom's mother, had adopted this transsexual girl shortly before the school year had begun; and on several occasions the two had come to their house.) Sometimes Tom would see this transsexual girl at Jefferson, but they had no common classes. Normally Tom could not remember her name - though he knew her well by sight. Recently there had been an encounter at school where this transie girl had made it clear to Tom that she knew his secret. Tom had remembered her name briefly after that, but then had forgotten it again. Seeing her knowing eyes as he stood off third base affected Tom. Suddenly he hallucinated that he was dressed in one of his girls' outfits with the fish-eyed buttons as he stood there on the field before the spectators in the bleachers. Tom knew this wasn't reality but the hallucination was so realistic that he couldn't help but believe it was true. And he couldn't shake this off. The third base coach reminded him that there were two outs and told him to be aggressive. Did the coach address him as "sis"? It seemed so. A pitch in the dirt got past the catcher and Tom was off like a shot. He felt the short pleated skirt he wore touching his bare skin above one knee then the other as he threw each leg into the air in his dash toward the plate. The play at the plate was close. The catcher got to the ball in a hurry and the pitcher alertly covered. But Tom just beat the throw and slid in safely to steal home for the run. As Tom rose to his feet from the dirt near home plate he recalled the transsexual girl's name. It was Terri-Ann. Terri-Ann Smith had become in the course of the school year arguably the most attractive transsexual at Jefferson. She had been sex- changed the previous summer and had not been so attractive when the school year had begun, as the hormones she had been taking since early summer had not yet had much noticeable effect then. But when spring arrived Terri-Ann had some curvature along with a reputation for her good looks. Her outstanding feature was her face: it was naturally beautiful. Her body, though not outstanding, was very well suited for transsexuality. Her legs were long and slender and her chest and shoulders were small for a boy. Her height was on the tall side for a girl her age, yet she did not make an unusually tall girl. Her hair was a sandy color, shoulder length, with some natural wave. Her eyes were large and dark blue. Though Terri-Ann was one of the very best looking transsexuals at Jefferson she was by no means one of the most passable - it was easy to tell that she was a transsexual girl as opposed to a real or genetic girl, mainly because her speech, walk and mannerisms retained a male quality. Terri-Ann's dress was always casual and usually unisexual, or not especially feminine - mostly she wore jeans. By way of religion Terri- Ann was an Atheist. Terri-Ann was reputed to be very bright. That was why she and Tom had no classes together. The classes she attended were reserved for top students whereas Tom was an underachiever who got average to poor grades. After the ballgame Tom approached Terri-Ann. Terri-Ann told Tom she had a marijuana joint with her and suggested they go someplace where they could smoke it. Terri-Ann had a motorscooter and Tom rode on the back of it as they drove to a secluded wooded area. There the two sat beside each other on a large fallen oak tree while they passed the joint. "Today I realized that I was a sissy and that it was stupid to fight it," Tom said. "When I stole home that was the best I'd run in a while. Maybe the best I'd run ever. When I run my best it's like there's something fearsome behind me, real close behind me, right next to the small of my back. I cannot tell you how fearsome this thing is. The fear makes me spurt forward like I was shot out of a cannon. But this thing behind my back has not been with me all this baseball season. In fact, it has not been with me in full force in the three years I've been at Jefferson. It was fifth and sixth grade when it was strongest. Then, guys would say, 'Look at him run!' I think the problem is an inferiority complex I have acquired about having an underdeveloped penis. When this inferiority complex started this thing behind my back began to go away. Anyhow, today I learned that when I am a sissy this thing behind my back is again with me. When I stole home I was not a boy but a girl; and the fearsome thing behind my back was definitely there. Without doubt that was the best I'd run since the sixth grade. When I stole home as a girl I really ran well." "I had a little penis too," said Terri-Ann. "I'll bet it wasn't as little as mine." "I used to dread gym class because of the showers," she said. "I _hate_ gym because of the showers," Tom said. "That's a great thing about the baseball season. I'm excused from gym. After a game or practice I don't shower. Unlike gym it's not required." "In the fall I was still flat-chested," Terri-Ann said, "and I didn't like gym then either. But I didn't dread it as much as when I was a boy. Now that I've developed a little bit, when I'm naked I feel, well, pretty relaxed." "The girl I am in my dreams is flat-chested," said Tom. "When she is naked in a shower or in a bathing suit at a swimming pool she is uncomfortable. Yet, she likes this." "Being flat-chested turns you on?" "Yes." "Good grief!" April 20 After school Tom and Terri-Ann met and rode on Terri-Ann's scooter to the place in the woods where they had conversed on the previous weekend. As before they sat on the fallen oak tree and smoked marijuana and conversed about various aspects of transsexuality. They had talked for a long time and it was getting to be dusk when the subject turned to tits. "The thing about tits is they're visible," said Tom. "Whenever you face someone you put them on display. You show them to the boy when you face him and speak." "True, they stick out," Terri-Ann responded. "I'll bet if I'd had to put my penis on display whenever I talked to a boy I wouldn't have developed an inferiority complex," said Tom. "Sis," said Terri-Ann, "that's what lawyers call a moot point." May 3 Again the two of them sat on the fallen oak in the woods. They had been meeting and going there to talk twice or three times per week, and had been doing this for nearly three weeks. "My father declared me dead," said Terri-Ann. "So did my mother. But she didn't feel that strongly about it. She only did it because of him. The two are close and I'm sure they'll never divorce." Tom said, "I've heard of this 'declaring you dead' thing. But what it means has never been explained to me. Could you explain it?" "It's never been explained to me either," said Terri-Ann. "When I was a boy ... I mean, before I became the girl I am ... I learned from my father ... I mean _his_ father ... that when someone was missing for seven years and was presumed dead his relatives could have him declared dead in order to inherit his money. I thought that was what being 'declared dead' meant. But I guess there are new laws. I have no idea what these are. I don't know anyone else who does either. I have searched for it on the Internet and have found nothing. Anyhow, here is how it worked with me. The government gave my dad five hundred dollars to help with the cost of my funeral. I guess they do that for fathers with transsexual sons: I guess they help with the cost of their symbolic burial if they opt to declare them dead. Anyhow, my dad, though fairly well off, was frugal. I was buried in a pine casket in a graveyard in a Negro region of Chicago. Dead street people would be buried in this poor man's graveyard. I mean corpses that are found in dumpsters. Of course, I wasn't in the casket. No one was - at least, I hope not. I am sure it was an empty casket that was buried. When the casket was in the ground and covered up with dirt a priest sprinkled some pixie dust on the spot then mumbled some words in Latin. And that was it." "You attended your own funeral?" said Tom. "Yes. My dad - I mean _his_ dad invited me. As I say, the event was hardly a big deal. Besides the two Negro gravediggers only three people were there: me, his dad, and the priest his dad hired. So it wasn't a big deal. "Yet there was a sense in which it was a big deal. To my dad his son was in that empty casket, and to me my dad was in it. To each of us there was the death of someone very important and close being symbolized - the death of part of ourselves." May 16 at the fallen oak "What happens to me is I get my mind made up that I want to be transsexed, then the next day I wake up and I can't believe I was serious about that," said Tom. "That's called purging," said Terri-Ann. "It's part of the natural process. Before the male ego dies it puts up a fight. It wins the battle and reasserts itself as the master, the true and real self. Then like a rising tide the female energy returns and washes it away, like a sand castle on a beach. So there is a period where you go back and forth between male and female. This period, though it is a natural part of the transformation process in which the male ego dies and the sissy self assumes the helm, involves great inner conflict, great psychological stress. This period is not only painful but dangerous. It can cause mental illness, even suicide. In my case it caused marijuana addiction. "I went through this painful period for a full year," Terri-Ann continued. "Finally last June, right after school had let out I got a supply of hormones and then I castrated myself." "You castrated yourself?" said Tom. "Wasn't that dangerous?" "No, it wasn't dangerous. I went to the Chicago library and researched the history of the castration of farm animals. I learned that until recent times veterinarians were not used for this. Farmers just did it themselves with a sharp but otherwise ordinary knife. I learned that castration is fairly painful but there's not much blood loss. There's no need for stitches. You just bandage the wound and keep it clean. It heals quickly. "My parents didn't even find out about it for a month. I told them I had sprained my back to cover the discomfort I initially had walking and getting up from chairs. I dreaded telling my parents, especially my dad. But my male ego was dead and I couldn't come across as a boy anymore. And my dad kept getting angry with me for acting like a girl, so finally I told him. I didn't tell him that I had castrated myself. I just told him that I had been castrated, and that I was taking female hormones. "After that they made arrangements for me to live with my Aunt Kim here in Geneva. Actually, she's not my Aunt. She's my mother's cousin. "Anyhow, what I am meaning to say to you, Tom, is that you should accept the fact that you are turning into a girl and there is nothing you can do. The best thing is to finalize it as soon as possible. Have the operation and get started on hormones as soon as you can." May 18 at the fallen oak From her purse Terri-Ann produced another joint. Tom told her he'd had enough. She lit it, saying she was a heavy user and heavy users developed an immunity to it and needed more than light users to get high. Then Terri-Ann went back to what she had been talking about before producing the second joint. "He doesn't want to be open about the fact that he is a trans-fan. He won't be seen with me in public. He won't even drive me in his car. I have to ride my scooter to his place. It's a mansion on the river bank, as you may know. His mother doesn't care. She acts a little cool toward me though. I haven't figured out if she thinks I'm a peon or a prostitute. I just sense that to her I'm not a social equal. Sometimes I sense that in Lenny too - though in his case it's a lot more subtle. I figure it's because they're so wealthy that they are this way - though I've read that some wealthy people are very down to earth. "Anyhow, Lenny stressed that I must not tell this to anyone else, especially you, Tom; then he said the Lesbianites had tried you and given you a stiff sentence: until five years after you have become passable as a girl you must be on hormones and must dress as a girl at all times, even when you sleep at night. "Realistically, that amounts to forced transsexuality," she continued. "See, it will take you at least a year to become passable as a girl. So that means you'll be on hormones at least six years. By that time your male genitals will be so atrophied as to be absurd. Tom, you will be twenty-one years old with the face and the figure of a young woman and a penis the size of a cigarette filter. Even if you weren't a transsexual girl, which you clearly are, your best option would be to accept that womanhood was your future and to have the operation. Your only other option would be to undergo a female to male sex change. But men don't accept those in their circles. My father, I mean the father of the boy I once was but am no more, would refer to those as 'hairy women.' The boy I was would hear his father's friends call them that too. Thus, Tom, your choice is to be a hairy woman or a transsexual woman. Even if you weren't a transsexual girl, which you clearly are, you would be better off as a transsexual woman than as a hairy woman - for there is a sense in which whatever is not a man is a woman, whereas the opposite is not true. "Another thing," Terri-Ann continued, "is the superiority of the sex organ. Hairy women have dicks so little they are ridiculous. Transsexual women have very realistic, fully functional sex organs. Unlike other hairy women your penis wouldn't be constructed out of a clitoris. But six years of hormones in a boy of your state of physical development will make it impossible to develop a penis that is anywhere close to normal. You will have a tiny ridiculous one just like other hairy women - if that is the way you choose to go. "Finally, Tom, there is another aspect of your sentence that you must consider. You will be required to go on a date with a Lesbianite boy once every week; and you will be required to submit to your date sexually. That will mean oral or anal sex. But if you have the operation that part of your sentence will be dropped. In fact the relation between you and the Lesbianite boys will be turned around. You can pick any one you like once per week, and he will be required to do it up your vagina; and if he can't maintain an erection you can have him punished. But then, you won't have to date at all if you don't want to, Tom. Not after you've had the operation." May 20 It was raining - so they couldn't go to their usual place in the woods. Instead, they went to a McDonald's near Jefferson. "The night before last," Tom said, "the day after you and I last talked and you told me about my sentence - six years or more on hormones and girls' clothes all the time - I had a talk with my mother. I told her I wanted to be sex-changed, to have sexual reassignment surgery as soon as possible; and I told her I knew I would need her permission for this. 'Do I have your permission?' I asked her. "She assured me right away that this permission was granted; and she said, 'I agree that you should have the surgery as soon as possible.' Then she began talking about my sentence. "'I guess Terri-Ann has told you about your sentence,' she remarked. Then she asked, 'How much has she told you?' "I recounted all that you had told me about this. "'There's a lot you still don't know,' she said. 'For instance, you have been treated with Rubin Imprint Technology. This means that a sexuality of someone else's that has been recorded has been imprinted in you. They have a number of recorded transvestite sexualities that they can choose from to imprint men or boys with by RIT. I don't know how many, but quite a few. Anyhow, you have been given the sexuality of what is called a Fish-eyed Sue. "'Fish-eyed Sue is a very fetishistic and very powerful sexuality that is mostly used with child-molesters,' she said. 'This sexuality is much stronger than the child-molester's desire for children; and once imprinted in a boy or man by RIT it quickly becomes dominate, and the sexual desire for children fades into nothing. "'I shall tell you more about RIT and what it means to be a Fish-eyed Sue in a moment,' my mom continued. 'For the present I shall just say that the reason the Lesbianite Boyhood chose Fish-eyed Sue for you is due to its sheer power. It is said to be the strongest transvestite sexuality they keep a recording of for RIT treatment - the strongest for the white American type, that is. Due to its power it is guaranteed to make you want to have Sue's body and wear her distinctive clothes - regardless of what you try to do about it. Due to its power it will quickly dominate whatever other sexuality you may have, and this, or these if they are more than one, will fade in vitality and plain die out in you - and it will soon come to pass that sex will be only one thing to you: wanting to be Sue.' "I told her that I had become this way already. There was a girl at school to whom I had been attracted a few months ago, I said. I used to fantasize about her. But now that magic was gone. Seeing her at school hardly affected me anymore. I couldn't stop thinking about having a girl's body and wearing girls' clothes. This sex drive was now with me all the time, I said; it had gotten to where it never went away, and I no longer had any interest in girls. "Then my mon stared talking about how my sentence was not her fault. She had strongly opposed it, she said. She asked me, 'Do you know what anti-testosterones are?' I said I didn't. She said, 'They make your testes stop producing male hormones. What I recommended to the Council was that you be put on Spironolactone (a common anti-testosterone) and told that in order to get off it you must wear girls' clothes at all times for a period of six months. All that being on Spironolactone would do would be prevent you from having puberty, along with weakening your muscles somewhat. It would not cause you to develop breasts or otherwise effeminize your body. I told the Council that putting you on Spironolactone until you had voluntarily worn girls' clothes at all times for six months was all that I could conscientiously go along with as your mother. In addition I told the Council that your doctor had recommended male hormones for you to stimulate the puberty process if this did not occur naturally by the age of sixteen, and that if you turned sixteen and had still not had puberty I would have this done - provided you had fulfilled your crossdressing sentence of six months. "'The Society of Sue also opposed the sentence proposed by the Boyhood, which was ultimately handed down,' she said. 'Their representative at the Council, Jonni-Sue, spoke in strong terms about this while pointing out that this harsh sentence was in their group's interest, since they considered you good raw material.' "Then my mom said, 'The Society of Sue has given me access to their private web site. For some time now I have been reading all about Sue. I have learned about her sex drive, I have learned about her body, I have learned about her clothes and I have learned about the group to which she belongs. I must say, from what I have seen a mother could hardly wish for a better community for her transsexual daughter. The motto is: A Sue Is Trustworthy. It reminds me of the Scouts. The stress is on honesty, speaking the truth - not only to others, but, above all, unto oneself. You should be flattered that this group considers you to be good raw material. I can't say I ever considered that you had a talent for honesty. But then, maybe you do. Maybe all along you have been this way - though you have certainly given the opposite impression on the surface of things. As you may know people commonly remark about the shamelessness with which you speak lies. "'As soon as you've had sexual reassignment surgery, SRS,' she continued, 'the Society of Sue will accept you as a member. As a member you will have their protection. But you will also be subject to their discipline - you will have to do things they tell you to do. "'Because you are a prospective member you are already receiving protection from them,' my mom continued. 'For instance, the Boyhood wanted to make you into a crybaby girl. They could do this - the methodology exists. They could break you down and get you to where crying was an enjoyable experience and an impulse that you could no longer control, so that the least little thing would start you crying. Do not think they could not do this to you because you are too strong. They could do this, believe me. I understand there is a transie girl at Jefferson to whom this has been done. You probably know who she is.' "'Yes,' I answered. 'I forget her name, but I know who you mean. The boys at Jefferson call her "the Weeping Willowpuss." Of course, they get punished if they get caught calling her that. But that is how they name her in their private talk: "the Weeping Willowpuss."' "'Now then,' said my mom, 'there is only one power that prevented you from getting turned into a Weeping Willowpuss - the Society of Sue. Of course, I issued protest as well. Strong protest. But the protest of the Society of Sue carries a lot more weight than the protest of a mother. The Sues made it clear to higher-ups in our local Lesbianite community that they didn't want their prospective member made into a crybaby girl; and this influence on these higher-ups is what prevented the Boys from doing this to you. "'Now I don't mean to scare you,' she said. 'Even if you opt against SRS and do not become a member of the Society of Sue you won't get turned into a crybaby girl. Not now. The Sues have already made too big of an issue of this - the higher-ups of our local Lesbianite community have already been put on the defensive by them regarding this issue. On the other hand the Boyhood's action in this regard does speak clearly about your situation. Clearly, the Boys are out to really do a number on you. Thus, protection from the Sues is something very valuable to you. And if you become a member you will have that protection in full. For this reason it is in your interest to have SRS as soon as possible.' "I told her I had already reached a decision: I wanted SRS as soon as this could be arranged. The Boys had already done a number on me, I told her. The alternative to having SRS was to grow to be a twenty-one year old male who had a female face and figure and a penis the size of a cigarette filter, I said. In addition RIT had given me the sexuality of a Fish-eyed Sue for life, I added. Also the Lesbianite Boys would be able to force me to submit to anal or oral intercourse with them, I said. Given all this, SRS was just a matter of common sense, I said; and I wanted it done as soon as possible. "My mom said the sex-change surgeon had already been paid part of his fee and was expecting that I might be ready soon, so with luck the operation could be performed even in a few days. She said she would contact the doctor the next day and arrange for a time. Then she began talking about my girls' clothes. 'You will have two sets of clothes: School clothes and At Home clothes,' she began. 'Your School clothes will be selected by the Boyhood. On the day that your sentence formally begins representatives of the Boyhood will come to the house, remove all of your boys' clothes, and fill your closet with Fish-eyed Sue's girls' clothes. These outfits the Boyhood will select for you will be worn to school, public events, and when you date. At all other times you will wear Fish-eyed Sue's clothes that I shall pick out - these will be your At Home clothes. Now then, I have decided to dress you as an extremely young girl ... for a period of time. In part, I admit, I am doing this because I want to humiliate you. You have been very bad to me, your mother, and I want to make you pay for this. So, as punishment, for a year I shall dress you in pigtails and bobbie socks, and skirts hemmed well above your knees. Yet there are motives besides punishment for this action. Fish-eyed Sue gets off on being dressed as a little girl, isn't that so? Doesn't the thought of being dressed as a little girl arouse you sexually?' "'Yes,' I answered. "'Those are the clothes that turn you on the most, right?' "'Yes,' I answered. "'Well,' she said, 'I think it would be expedient for your personality reconstruction if your At Home clothes really turned you on. That's one reason. Another reason is that I think it would be good if your School clothes were a step up for you. This will make you look forward to going to school, I figure. Who knows, maybe you will even become a good student.' "'Mom,' I said, 'the clothes that especially turn me on can't be worn in public. They are too much. I would be unable to walk down a street without causing a commotion.' "'Miss Tommi-Sue - that is to be your name, by the way - you must be made to realize that you have a lot of growing up to do,' she said. 'In terms of social maturity you really are the equal of a little girl. My decision is final. Bobbie socks and pigtails for you, Tommi-Sue, and skirts hemmed well above your knees. That's final, okay?' "After that things really became weird. I started hallucinating that I was wearing a little girl's dress and I couldn't make this hallucination stop. Also my voice became high like a girl's and I couldn't make this stop: I couldn't find my normal voice. Meanwhile my mom became enormously confident. It used to be she would get scared of me when we argued about my wearing girls' clothes. Now she was supremely confident and I was the one who felt fear." "You are speaking with a girl's voice right now," said Terri-Ann. "Am I? I didn't realize ...." "You have a girl's face too. Especially your eyes. The look in your eyes is utterly female," she said, and she produced a small mirror from her purse. "Here, see for yourself." Without saying a word or making any expression Tom contemplated the image of his face in the mirror for some time. Gradually the female face faded and his normal male face returned; and when finally he spoke it was his normal male voice that sounded. "I'll bet I have looked like that at times when I did not realize it," he remarked. "I'll bet I have been in public and people have seen me like that." "Yes, I have seen you at school like that more than once," said Terri-Ann. "On the other hand, I have never seen it so pronounced as today." "Do you think the boys have been talking about me?" "Well, I haven't heard them. But I would be surprised if they hadn't." "This is like a bad dream. Except I can't wake up from it." "Oh, come on. Deep down it's what you want and you know it." "Yeah, it's what I want - thanks to RIT." "The fact remains: it's what you want." "Maybe not. I haven't finished my story about the night before last with my mom. She said she already had some little girls' clothes for me and she said she wanted to dress me in one of these outfits then and there; and I told her to go to hell." "Really, you did?" "Well, that's an exaggeration. I was too afraid of her to tell her to go to hell. But I did refuse to let her dress me as a little girl. I told her I wasn't ready for that yet." "What was her response?" "She added three weeks to the year's time I would be dressed as a little girl when I wasn't at school." Terri-Ann grinned; and this caused Tom to look her directly in the eyes and say, "What is the word for when a person delights in the suffering of another?" Terri-Ann assumed a defensive posture and said nothing. "That is called cruelty," he said. "You are such a good student, you should know that." Then he said, "Do you deny that the thought of me being humiliated gives you pleasure?" "What are you getting at?" she said. "I am your friend." "I haven't finished my story about what transpired between me and my mother the night before last," Tom responded. "Terri-Ann, my mom said some things about you in the course of all that was said. She said you were working for the Boys. She said you had been commissioned by the Boys to befriend me in order to encourage me to have SRS and also to spy on me. Do you deny this?" "First," replied Terri-Ann, "the girl in you has become my best friend. There is no one else except maybe my boyfriend Lenny whose company I like as much, and there is certainly no one else in whom I can confide things as easily - not any of the transie girls, not my Aunt Kim. Believe me, I have dreaded the moment when I would have to confess to you that my relationship with you has not been wholly genuine. Yet now that this moment has come I feel relief. I only hope I can get you to understand that I had no choice." "Did you know that I had been given RIT treatment and that the sexuality imprinted in me was Fish-eyed Sue?" "Yes." "Did you know that the mammary tissue around my nipples had been injected with a substance that would prevent my breasts from developing normally, and would make them turn out super little?" "Of course. Being flat-chested is one of the things that turns a Sue on." "How could you be my friend and not tell me these things?" "Because those were my orders. Look, Lenny has warned me to be careful with you. He told me the Society of Sue may have contacted you and you might be working with them trying to obtain information about him through me. Now what if that were true? Would I hold that against you? No. I would understand that you had no choice." "Apparently," Tom remarked, "Lenny Levins is not convinced that a Sue is trustworthy. But look, if the Sues told me to be deceitful with you I would tell them to go to hell. I would say that something about them had just been proven. Now then, Terri-Ann, you must not have sized me up right." "Bobbie socks and pigtails." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means you really do have some growing up to do. Everyone needs the support of a community. To fail to understand this is immaturity. But look, let's not fight." "Curiously, did you think like a slave before you had SRS?" "I'll forget you said that." "Forget? That's a thought. What I am wondering is if you have forgotten things or if you never learned them in the first place. I'll bet your father wondered about that too." "How dare you!" "Why don't you cry then? Maybe I'll pity you." "I'll cry later, thank you. Meanwhile you know the saying: 'If he will not bow, let him curtsy.' I am right and you are wrong. These days everyone needs to be in good standing with a community. That is a fact, a truth. Accepting it is not cowardice. Denying it is stupidity - as you are in the process, the slow process in your case, of finding out. Which reminds me. Has the date for your SRS been set?" "Darn, that's right. I temporarily forgot about that. Thanks for reminding me," Tom said facetiously. "Yes. Temporarily you did forget about that. Has your mom met with the surgeon yet?" "She had an appointment with him this afternoon. When I get home I expect she'll tell me the day when the operation is scheduled." May 21 at the fallen oak "Terri-Ann, despite your shortcomings - (I think you are a natural-born panty-waist, or a gutless wonder who became a transie girl because boyhood was too much for you to bear, as you could not measure up to the standards) - I think you are a true friend. I have thought about this, and I feel sure. Thus, I am willing to overlook your betrayal of my trust - since you are a true friend who happens to be a twerp, a weakling, a spineless jellyfish. We all have our faults - yet a friend is a friend." "Tommi-Sue, my dear little girl, do you call that an apology?" "Well, that's the best you're going to get." "In that case I accept your apology." They began smoking weed. "Why won't you tell me when your SRS is scheduled?" asked Terri-Ann as she passed Tom the joint. "Because I don't want to think about it," he replied. "Do you not want me to visit you at the hospital?" "Do you know what I am thinking about right now? I am thinking that my mother said you were lying about it being part of my sentence that until I had SRS the Boys had the right to date me and have sex with me." "Okay, that was false." "Were you told to tell me that?" "Yes. And let me say, at first I protested that you were too intelligent to believe it." "Look, as the girlfriend of Lenny Levins you were in a position to have some solid information about my sentence. Add to this that I trusted you. So it wasn't stupidity that made me believe that." "Tommi-Sue, if you knew anything about the society you live in you would know that rape was highly illegal, and you would deduce that what I had told you was impossible. Whose fault is it that you are so ignorant?" "Are you saying you have the right to lie to me because unlike me you do your homework?" "If you did your homework maybe you would be more realistic. I am saying that you are not realistic; you have forgotten that you live among others. If you could get away from your little private world and look outwardly and perceive the others who live around you, you would soon enough understand. They do not call that lying. I repeat, the real people in your society do not call that lying. Look, you are being manipulated as part of your punishment. We want you to have SRS, do you get it? But we cannot make you do this; you have to freely choose it. Therefore we are trying to make you freely choose it. Therefore we are making you decide for yourself that you want SRS. That's the whole thing, okay?" "I said I didn't want to talk about that." "Last August a man who was our neighbor took me on a fishing trip in the Smoky mountains of Tennessee," said Tom. "His name was Mr. Larkins. My mom said Mr. Larkins was gay, and she didn't want me to be alone with him for a week in the woods. Finally I convinced her the man was just being like a father with me, and she gave me permission to go." "Was he gay?" Terri-Ann asked. "I don't know. I never asked him." "You said he _was_ your neighbor. Has he moved?" "Yes, fortunately. I would hate to face him as a transie girl," said Tom. "Anyhow, we didn't encounter any other humans for a whole week. We fished for trout in a cold mountain stream that had white boulders in it. The only supplies we had for the whole week were what we carried in our backpacks. We would get up at dawn and fish for our breakfast. After this morning meal we would fish throughout the day. Then toward dusk we would gather wood for the evening campfire, then have supper. We ate the same thing every day, morning and night. Fried trout with boiled dry rice. Our water came from the stream. "That has been my favorite daydream ever since - the Smoky mountain wilderness. All through this school year, except recently when I started trying to get better grades, I would tune out the teacher's voice and engage in this daydream. From the classroom I would fly away and be there in the Smoky mountains." "What do you mean you would 'tune out' the teacher's voice?" asked Terri-Ann. "Oh, that's a trick I learned in my first year at Jefferson. I would pretend that the teacher was speaking in a foreign language. Pretty soon his voice would just become a meaningless jabber; then this weird jabbering sound would kind of recede into the background, like the sound of an electric motor, like the sound of the refrigerator when you're reading at the kitchen table. I would tune out the teacher's voice so well that all would be quiet and my mind would be perfectly free to daydream." "Good grief, no wonder your grades have been poor!" "I have an impulse to run away to the Smoky mountains," said Tom. "I have had this impulse since before the sex-change thing began, since before I was given RIT treatment, so it is nothing new. But this morning as I rode my bike to Jefferson I actually came close to doing this - which _was_ something new. This impulse came on suddenly while I rode down the bicycle path alongside the river. Suddenly the river seemed alive, and it spoke to me, saying, 'Do it!' I stopped and got off my bicycle; I just stood there motionless for some time debating whether to go home and get my pellet rifle and fishing gear and start trekking south toward the Smokies. Though I was aware of how unrealistic this was - realistically I would be picked up by the police before I had gotten very far - I believed in some deep way, I had faith, as Mr. Smith would say, that I could do this successfully. All I needed was the courage to take the first step, it seemed." Saturday, May 24 2:00 P.M. The telephone rang in the kitchen where Tom was doing schoolwork at the table. It was Terri-Ann. "I just heard about what you did," she said. "Lenny just called and told me all about it." "Yes. I was scheduled for SRS this morning but I escaped from the hospital. Listen, I would like to be a girl right now and talk to you. But over the phone is not what I want. Are you able to come over here?" "To your house?" "Yes. I am forbidden to leave the house." "Can we get high there?" "Yes. In my room." "Are you sure?" "I've done it before. She has never said anything." "Is she home?" "She's out on her bicycle." "All right, I'll come over on my scooter. Ten minutes." Terri-Ann was high when she arrived; Tom could see that in her eyes. He reflected that she was lucky the cops didn't stop her while she rode her scooter, as her condition was obvious. Nevertheless, despite already being high, even very high, Terri-Ann was rolling a joint within five minutes of her arrival. Tom figured maybe this was because he wasn't high - maybe the fact that he wasn't high made her feel uncomfortable. "Over the phone," Terri-Ann said, "you said you wanted to see me as a girl. Well, I have come here, but where is Tommi-Sue? Today you are a boy all the way." "I wish I could be Tommi-Sue and talk with you. I would really like to do that. But I can't." Tom got up and opened the two windows of his bedroom in preparation for the marijuana smoke. "I suppose you know that surgeons don't like it when patients fail to keep their appointments for the operating room," said Terri-Ann. "I shall tell you the whole story," Tom said. "But first I must ask if you believe in God." "Of course not. I am an Atheist like you." "How did you know that I was an Atheist?" "My Aunt Kim knows your mom." "I think that Mr. Smith, my homeroom teacher, may have communicated his knowledge of God to me," Tom said. "In some subtle way, I mean, Mr. Smith has shown me how to know God, I think. Anyway, I had a religious experience after I escaped from the hospital. And I don't want to argue about religion; I just want to tell the story." Terri-Ann lit the joint she had made. They passed it back and forth for a while, neither of them speaking, or even meeting eyes directly; then Tom began speaking: "When we got to the hospital I put on a sleeping dress and my mom braided my hair in pigtails, then she took my boys' clothes and left. Under the dress I wore a training bra that contained little funnel-shaped tits of rubber and a hip-shaping thing that gave my hips a little curvature and made my waist higher. "My sleeping dresses are cream colored little girls' dresses. At the hospital I had three sleeping dresses and a pair of white girls' bedroom slippers, and those were all the clothes I had. "I arrived at the hospital in the afternoon. My operation was scheduled for the morning of the following day. Shortly after I got there they drew some blood from me to run tests on. Then in the early evening they had me drink a lot of bad tasting liquid in order to clean out my bladder and bowels. But most of the time I was free. I spent much of the day in a lounge for boys and girls, studying for my upcoming final exams and trying to get used to being in my new clothes. The other kids seemed to accept me all right, though none of them could believe that I was almost fifteen. But they didn't lord it over me - as they would have if I really were as young as they thought. "Something must have happened while I slept. That night I went to bed very comfortable with the prospect of being sex-changed. I went to bed excited by the thought that the next day I would begin my new life. Well, I'm not sure if I was really excited. But at least I was resigned to my fate; and I felt relief that soon there would no longer be a decision to make, as I had grown weary going back and forth on this thing. But the next morning I woke up feeling an urgency that I escape this fate - though it seemed impossible to escape it I felt I had to try, and I felt this with an urgency. "My operation was scheduled for ten in the morning. I awoke before seven; and as I recall it was the thought that I needed to escape that woke me up. Anyhow there was no debating going on within me that morning: from the moment I woke up I was decided. "I did not sleep in my hip-shaping thing as I would have liked because it was difficult to get on and off and due to the liquid I had taken to clean out my bowels I was afraid I might have to get up at night and rush to the bathroom. But I put it on as soon as I awoke. The thought in my mind was that the more I looked like a girl the easier it would be for me to escape while wearing my girls' clothes. Yet, looking back, I think the reason I put it on was I wanted it on. Wearing it was very enjoyable. Being dressed as a girl was very enjoyable. I was running away from being sex-changed, but a part of me still wanted this. "Around seven-thirty the nurse came by. She had a cart full of styrofoam boxes containing, I presumed, breakfast meals for patients, and the cart also had several large pitchers and stacks of small paper cups. She asked me if I were nervous. To throw her off I told her I could hardly wait until my girlhood was real. She smiled pleasantly and said I could not have breakfast, but I could have a cup of hot tea. I said I would like that; and she poured me a small cup of hot tea and left. "I drank the tea while allowing her time to work her way down the hall and around the corner. Then out I went - in my little girls' dress and white slippers. "My room was on the third floor. I took the stairs instead of the elevator. In the stairwell I encountered a doctor. He gave me a look as I approached him from a few feet away, and he was about to say something as I hurried past him. Then he turned around and started coming down the stairs after me. I took off my slippers and holding one in each hand I took off running, or rather leaping down the stairs - hitting the landings on my bare feet with loud thumps. "Then I was on the ground floor sprinting. In the lobby of the front entrance I accidentally brushed against a man on crutches and made him fall down, and one of his crutches went clattering across the floor. "Then outside, still holding my slippers I sprinted around the front of the hospital building to the grounds in back. I ran across the freshly mowed grass of the hospital's grounds for perhaps fifty yards until I exited into a residential neighborhood. Then I put on my slippers and walked down the street. "I hadn't walked far when two little boys came up to me and asked, 'Are you a sissy?' I answered them, surprising myself with my answer, 'Yes, I am a transie-girl. I haven't had the operation yet but soon I shall.' Something about these little boys made me nervous; I felt relief when they scampered off. Then up the road I encountered another boy. He was about my age and was mowing a lawn. Nothing was said in this encounter but he looked at me, and being looked at by him made me extremely nervous, also extremely self-conscious of the little tits I had on. Thereafter for a good ways as I walked along I did not encounter any more males on the sidewalk or on the front lawns. But I would occasionally see one in a passing car. And even then I would feel very nervous. And it dawned on me as I walked through this residential neighborhood that males were no longer the same to me. Some quality about them was different. In a pronounced way they actually _looked_ different. "A part of me regretted running away from the hospital. Yet another part, a stronger part, knew this had to be done. Why this needed to be done I did not know; but I felt very strongly that it did. "Overhead the gray cloud cover grew thicker; it looked like rain for sure, and pretty soon. I did not want to return home before ten o'clock - when my operation was scheduled. I wanted to wait until at least eleven; so I had three hours to kill. I decided to go to the Riverside shopping mall. The sidewalks were under roofs there, so I wouldn't have to worry about the rain. "On my walk to the Riverside mall - it was about a mile - I thought of how well I'd run through the hospital's grounds. I had run extremely well then. Earlier I have told you about how I feel a fearsome presence behind the small of my back when I run my best. Well, I felt that fearsome presence very