The Wrong Sister free porn video

"The Wrong Sister" by Kathy Core When she turned fifteen my sister Clare became obsessed with switching places with me. I can't really describe how embarrassing it was to have her constantly talking about how she would one day be my brother, and I her sister. She'd spend hours dreaming out loud to our Mom and Dad that she was looking forward to being their son again, and how much I was looking forward to being their daughter. "That's nice, dear, " my Mom would say. To me and Clare, that was a signed contract short of permission. When my friends came to visit, she'd tease me by telling them that I was a girl, and that she was a boy, and I'd tricked her into trading places when we started school. She'd start putting on a performance, telling them that she was going to reclaim her male identity, forcing me back into the life of girlhood I had only escaped by inflicting it on my 'brother'. My friends used to scream with laughter at all this, not only because Clare was clearly crazy, but that I used to just sit on my butt doing nothing about it, blushing. This carried on way beyond the point at which it got boring, and frankly scary. She has started taking the whole thing a little too far. At first, she got into the habit of calling me 'Clare' and 'Sis', and she always referred to me as 'her' or as a 'she'. It used to infuriate me, but when my parents didn't bother to correct her, and when I realised my protests were useless, I simply gave in. It was all part of Clare's private little psychosis. She even made me call her John, and refer to her in the masculine. When I forgot, or just simply pretended to forget, she would pick me up and throw me in garbage bins, or hang me out of windows. Ultimately, the family just humoured her. Once, I managed to sneak into her room just to explore, as brothers do. To my horror, I found that she had begun documenting what she believed I had done to her when we were only 5. Her diary 'Diary of John Edwards, 15 1/2', told how I, as 'Clare', had bullied and coerced 'John' into believing not only that 'he' was a girl, but that I had told 'him' that monsters would take 'him' away if 'he' ever told anyone he was really a boy, or asked to wear boy's clothing. According to her diary, I had then started to pretend I was the brother, and either because our parents didn't care or didn't notice I was enrolled in school as John Edwards, and she was enrolled as Clare. The diary carried on in some detail about the various traumas and horrors that she faced being a boy being brought up as a girl. She continually made references to how she hoped she could get revenge on me, and force me back into being the girl. God, it all scared me. I even doubted myself for a little while, but thankfully I realised that she'd not been able to account for the fact that I was physically a male, and she a female. There was no escaping the reality - she was the girl. Of course, as always, Clare had an answer. In the diary, she explained how our parents, fearing prosecution from the authorities for 'unconventional parenting', had taken us to Europe for gender reassignment in secret. Apparently I knew all about it, and agreed wholeheartedly. Clare however, saw this as the lock to the prison I had sentenced her to. Her diary explained in great detail the shock of waking up without a penis, and how the significance of this event had taken many years to fully surface. Of course, it was all total shit. To me, the scale and detail of my sisters 'fantasy' was terrifying. She really, really believed it, and from then on I resolved to treat my sister's obsession with a little more care. I wanted to show the diary to Mom, but I knew that I'd be in trouble for being in her room, and I really didn't want Clare to know I'd seen it. Anyway, the final entry was a 'shocking realisation', as she put it. Clare had taken it upon herself to believe that our Mom and Dad were putting female hormones in her food, because she was unable to make any herself. As a consequence, she'd resolved never to eat at home again. This obviously worried me: I was concerned that she was using her fantasy as an excuse for anorexia. I resolved to watch her carefully, and report anything dangerous to Mom. That was a year ago. In the meantime, Clare had to be submitted to various hospitals and clinics to cure her of her eating disorder. It was a disturbing time for the whole family. She would openly weep at the table when eating her food, as if we were asking her to eat cyanide: to Clare, each bite was another step on the road to womanhood. Sure, we tried to help. Everybody, and I mean everybody called her John. She began dressing like a boy, attempting to hide her budding breasts and hips, and had her hair cut as short as possible at all times. She looked like a butch lesbian, and her choice of friends only seemed to confirm that impression. I used to find heterosexual male porn in her room, along with male deodorants and toiletries. This change in lifestyle seemed to calm her down a little bit, but it wasn't enough. Eventually everybody, including our parents started calling me Clare. Christ, that got me into some shit at school, but if it stopped my sister killing herself it was worth it. It was extremely embarrassing, but it kind of just happened by accident, and when it caught on at school, Clare began eating at home again for a little while. Of course, now we were both entering the last two years of high school. With hindsight, it was obvious Clare knew that this was her final chance to 'put things right' as she saw it. Christ, she was ill, but I couldn't see what danger she could do to me. After all, she was just my sister... *********** It was the start of the new semester, and I was just beginning to get used to the atmosphere when Clare confronted me with the photograph. God knows where it came from, or where she got it - that seemed unimportant. As soon as I laid eyes on it I was stricken with fear and panic. There was no doubt who was who in the picture - I had brown eyes, and she had blue. That was all that clearly distinguished us at the early age. The picture displayed a boy and girl, holding hands, with their parents behind them. The little boy was dressed in shorts and a star wars T-shirt. The little girl was dressed in a pretty summer dress, with her hair in pigtails. It was a beautiful day, and in normal circumstances this image would have been the total definition of family bliss. I knew that the picture contained me, my sister, my Mom and my Dad. I had seen enough pictures of our youth to be in no doubt, although admittedly I'd not seen any of us this young before. The problem, of course, was that the little girl in the picture had brown eyes. I had brown eyes - therefore, the little 'girl' in the picture was me, and the little 'boy' was my sister. I was silent for a while, wondering if there was more to Clare's fantasy than I'd originally thought. Could I really have forgotten that I was born a girl, I thought? I decided against it, and began trying to explain the picture. "This could be anything.. just a game of dress up!", I argued. "I thought that, but why would our parents pose for a full family shot? And why aren't there any other pictures of us before we started school?" "That doesn't prove anything! It could be a trick of the light, confusing the eye color!" "No, I don't think so, Clare!", she rallied, again calling me Clare as she always did. "Look.. so we dressed up as each other once, and they took a picture.. so what?", I protested. "Pretty good wigs then don't you think for a quick game of 'dress up', Clare!" "It doesn't prove anything. Please, can't you just forget this bull shit! Go and have a fucking sex change if you hate being a girl so much, but don't expect me to play along.", I said, fiercely. In truth, she was frightening me a lot. This single image had thrown everything I'd assumed to be correct into doubt. Somehow it gave her fantasy a little bit of credibility. A little bit too much credibility. So, after that she began giving me evil looks all the time. In her mind, she'd found proof of what I'd done to her - evidence of our lives before. No-one else would be convinced, but it was justification enough for her. I was desperately wanting to seek resolution to this affair - I couldn't bear the thought that my gender was in question, so when she suggested it, I agreed willingly: hypnosis. What a bad move, but I made it nonetheless. I was certain that hypnosis was a sham - it had been proven time and time again that there was no such thing as a hypnotic state, and people claiming to have been hypnotised were just that: claiming. I believed that as long as there were people who couldn't be hypnotised, I would be immune. I even believed it after each session, when I awoke confident that I'd kept in control the whole time. As far as I knew I'd just re-affirmed what a psycho my sister was, but what I actually said was far, far, more incriminating. So incriminating in fact that my sister distributed it around the school as vindication of her delusion. I'd confessed everything, in the tiniest detail, on tape, for everyone to hear. They all heard me explain that I was born a girl, and unsatisfied with my lot had conspired with my parents to trade places, permanently. I confessed to subjecting my brother to a sex change operation, and scaring him into believing that if he ever told anyone the truth that monsters would come and take him away. Now readers, I promise you, this wasn't true. You have to believe me - to this day I am sure those memories were implanted in my head by the hypnotist. Anyway, as it happened, no one else did believe me. First my friends stopped talking to me, then nobody else would . It took about a month before everyone in the school had heard the tapes, or read the transcripts, and then I was doomed. Clare was proclaimed a hero for surviving such a terrible abuse, and I was outcast and bullied for my crimes. When I said that nobody called me John anymore, it was worse after the tapes. Now they called me 'Clare' with a threatening inflection, to emphasise and draw attention to it. To make things worse, when I tried talking to my old friends, they would call me 'bitch' or accuse me of trying to turn them into girls like I'd done with my 'brother'. No-one accepted me as a male anymore. They all believed, like my sister, that I was the girl, and she the boy. I tried to get my parents to correct Clare's view of the world. I implored them to deny that they'd had us swapped. I begged my Mom to tell us about what I was like as a cheeky toddler boy, but they wouldn't help. "Look, " they'd say. "It'll all blow over eventually." Now I really did begin to doubt myself. Since the hypnosis, I began remembering small flashes of life 'before'. Just little things at first, but mostly they all revolved around me being pissed off at wearing some pretty little dress while my cool brother got to climb trees. I faced my sister about it, and sobbed on her shoulder. I cried openly, and begged forgiveness for what I'd done to her, and the life I'd forced her to lead. I didn't fully believe it yet, but I wasn't sure anymore. I couldn't be 100% certain that she was imagining it. She hugged me tightly and said she'd help me put things right. And that, dear reader, is where the real tragedy began. I arrived home after another depressing day at school to find that my sister had moved into my bedroom, as if it was perfectly normal, acceptable behaviour. I don't just mean she was in my room, I mean she'd claimed it as her own, like some invading force. "This is my room, Clare. Fuck off, " she declared. I was dumb struck. In fact, as far as I could tell, she hadn't even moved any of her stuff in yet. She was just lying on my bed reading one of my magazines. "You can't just take my room," I protested. "I need the extra space for all my stuff! I decorated this room myself.. It's mine!" "Bite me, Sis." She looked up and stared coldly and firmly into my eyes. I'd not seen her so calm and resolute before. I could see from her determined gaze that this event was a pivotal moment in our relationship. I wasn't in a position to lose this, because I stood to lose so much more than just my room. I made a stand. "Get out Clare. This is my room, and I'm not going to let you take it from me." I tried to sound authoritative. I hoped I sounded assertive. In fact, I'd never been so strong in my entire life, but it wasn't good enough. "Don't call me Clare, you Bitch!" she screamed, leaping from the bed swinging her fists at me. I quickly retreated from the room but not before feeling the sting of a smack to my lip. "Why do you keep pretending I'm your sister? WHY?!?" She carried on yelling as I ran downstairs to seek the aid of my Mom and Dad. I explained the situation, and they looked at each other in disbelief. "Don't be so childish Clare, " said my Dad. There they went again: calling me Clare. I really felt they weren't taking me seriously when they used my new nickname. "Your sister's very ill, as you well know. Let her have your room. If it makes her feel better, let her use your things. It's not as if you've got anything important in there," offered my Mom. "Mom! How can you say that! Everything's important to me!" "Don't be such a baby, dear. There's nothing wrong with John's room, so if it helps make her feel a little better, you'd better just get used to it!" I never realised how easily my mother could put me down. "Don't be so selfish. She'd do it for you, if you were sick," warned my Dad. These days it seemed he started every sentence with 'Don't be so...'. You can appreciate what a shocking precedent had been set that day. I understood that as long as my sister was ill, I would be obliged to blindly give in to her every whim and fancy. My objections would be overruled. My opinions would count for nothing. On this occasion I decided that maybe swapping rooms wouldn't be so devastating really. So I'd have to get rid of the girlie decor, but really it didn't matter. I resolved to go back upstairs and tell John.. shit, I mean Clare, what I, in my wisdom, had decided to do. "I have decided to let you have my room," I proclaimed. "Thought you'd see it my way eventually, Sis." "Whatever...anyway, I've come to collect my stuff then I'll leave you to it, okay?" "Don't worry. I already moved everything of yours into your room. Everything else in here is mine now." "Wait, " I said, seeing quite clearly that nothing of mine was missing from the room at all. She had my hi-fi, my TV, my books, videos, and she even had my PC. "You can't keep my PC! Or my TV! Okay, so you've stolen my room, but you can't steal my stuff too!" "Like I said before Sis, bite me. You've still got a TV, and a CD player. What's your problem?" At this point I was boiling red with frustration. I knew asking our parents to intervene was going to be futile, so I just stormed off into my new room. The decoration was revoltingly feminine - all pastels and pinks. There were cute little stuffed animals and dolls scattered around, unplayed with for over a decade, but loved nonetheless. There were shelves that contained little ceramic cats and dogs, and there were photographs and posters of gruesome boy bands on the walls. The room smelt strongly of the feminine hair and beauty products that were displayed carefully on the vanity table. What pissed me off, I mean really pissed me off, was that John had deliberately set the room up this way, recreating it exactly as it was 2 years ago. I've already explained that she'd started wearing male deodorants, and the beauty products on the vanity had been consigned to the bin ages ago. Three days ago this room had been devoid of almost all obvious signs of a female inhabitant, and now she'd restored it to 'A Girls Bedroom'. I started looking around for the things she'd let me keep from my old room. I couldn't find anything at first, until I checked in the magazine rack: I sat down in shock - my secret had been discovered! White as a ghost, I began trembling with a fear and panic stronger than anything else I'd ever felt before. I should warn you, reader, that I don't think I was gay, but I had been, I don't know, confused. I'd stolen some 'Gay' magazines: some erotica, and some just general publications to see if it was 'me'. It didn't really gel, but I did know that I had nothing like the kind of stuff my sister had bought to entertain herself. I'd never bought a copy of Playboy, and had no intention of doing so. All the same, John had found them, and was probably by now assuming that I was a fully fledged queer. It was the one thing she'd let me keep because it was the one thing she couldn't use. I think it was another nail in the coffin. John had no interest in men, nor I in women. Then there was the photograph. And finally there was my confession on tape, admitting to being born a girl. Maybe, just maybe it was all true, I thought. However, I still couldn't understand how I could have managed to do something so evil to someone else. As far as I knew I'd never hurt another person before in my life. I had to confront my Mom and Dad, and force them to tell me the truth. I couldn't carry on not knowing a second longer. "Please tell me! Is John telling the truth? Am I a girl?" I begged. "Clare...what difference would it make anyway? If we tell you John's wrong, then it'll just make her even more unstable and ill. And if you really are a girl, do you really, truly want to know?" asked my Dad. "Why can't you just tell me!? Please.. if you don't tell me the truth, then I'm going to have to assume that Clare's right!" "Oh Dear, the Doctors say we shouldn't get involved! You need to figure it out for yourselves, especially John! She's so fragile mentally right now that we just can't risk getting in the way. You do understand, don't you?" "No, I don't. I think you two are hiding something, and that makes me real scared." And at that I stormed off back up to my new room. Filled with dread, I decided to check the closet. True to form, it still had my sisters clothes in. So, here's where it begins, I thought. According the the previous pattern, she was going to keep my clothes, and leave me hers. Well, I thought: Not in a million years. A joke was a joke, but this was as funny as a corpse. Fearing another blasting, I decided to confront John. I walked to her room and tried to open the door, but I found the door was locked! I hammered my fist against the door until I heard the bolts slide. "Right John, " I said. "No more fucking about. I want my clothes back now. I'm not playing this game anymore!" "You just don't get it do you sis?" she said, in a patronizing tone. "I'm letting you put things right - put things how they should be. From now on, you're going back to being a girl, and I'm your brother. Your male privileges have been revoked, Clare, so get used to it." "You can't just swap sexes like this! I don't know shit about being a girl!" I cried. "Oh, and you think I did when you did this to me all those years ago? All this time I've wasted learning how to wear make-up and look pretty. All those ridiculous bridesmaid dresses I've had to wear. All the crap I've been through when all along it should have been you! I should have been the one climbing trees! I should have been given a PC for my birthday! Those Star Wars figures should have been mine!!! You stole my life from me, you bitch, so you'd better just accept it before I make it worse for you." "But you've got no proof that this happened, John! You can't be 100% sure.. what if you're wrong, and you're doing this to an innocent man?" I asked, desperately. There was a pause, where she looked confused for a moment. It didn't last. "Then I'll apologise, and you can have your room and things back." "Well, it's tough shit. You can go have a fucking sex change if you like, but I'm not 'being a girl' no matter what you do. You'll never, ever get me to agree. It's totally crazy." I made for my old closet, fully intending to just take my stuff back, regardless. I think I almost got a full handful before I felt the bang on the back of my head and my lights going out. "Honey.. wake up, darling." My Mom's voice stirred me. "I'm so proud of you! I have to say Clare, it's an extremely generous thing you've done for your brother." "..brother?" I muttered, groggily. I knew something weird was happening.. I just couldn't quite put my finger on it yet. "Don't worry about a thing, dear. We've made sure you're as beautiful as John was before you switched," she continued. "...beautiful? What's going on?" I muttered. "I have to admit, I never thought you'd agree to a sex-change. Your Dad and I are so lucky to have a daughter like you!" It was like an injection of amphetamines - I slammed into full consciousness immediately, finding myself held in the warm embrace of my Mom. Shit, I thought. Her tits were twice the size I remembered, but I was so, so wrong. I looked again at the flesh separating our torsos, and saw that her breasts hadn't grown - there were just twice as many tits as before. She had 4 breasts! Or, more likely, we had a more normal two each. Two each. A set of breasts each. "What... have you...done...to...me?" I shivered. "You know what we've done, Clare - you and John have swapped places. We didn't want either of you to grow up freaks, so we decided to help you both by making it official. John is now legally, and medically a male as he wanted, and you are legally and medically female, as you said you'd become for the sake of your brother! Don't fool around Clare.. what have we been doing for the last 6 months? Dreaming?" "I... don't remember anything," I said, genuinely confused. I noticed I was wearing a hospital gown, and that I was probably in some kind of hospital. I also noticed I wasn't the slightest bit pissed off about being changed against my will into a girl. I knew I should be screaming at the top of my lungs, but I just couldn't for some reason. I looked down and appraised my new figure - breasts, hips, feminine legs, arms and hands. I even had pretty little feet. At the back of my brain I felt a black cloud of nausea attempting to overwhelm me, but against everything I'd ever believed I actually just felt pleased with my new figure. I liked it! Something was seriously wrong. "Never mind, Clare. I'm sure as soon as we get you home you'll feel better." "...home?" I asked. "Yes.. I bet you can't wait to show off the new you to the boys!" She enthused. "...the boys?" "Your brother and father, silly! Anyway, I've brought you some clothes to wear. I know you've been wearing girl's clothes for the last 6 months, but this is the first time you're going to be wearing them as a real girl," she explained. "Yes," I commented, utterly confused by my own apathy. "So I took the liberty of buying you a whole new outfit. You don't mind do you, but it's been nearly 2 years since I had a daughter I could pamper!" I looked up into my Mom's eyes, and saw she was genuinely happy. There was a sparkle that had come from the knowledge that her family was returning to normal: Mom, Dad, Son and Daughter all living together happily. I think at that moment I truly loved her, like only a daughter could love her mother. I didn't have the heart to let her down. "No Mom.. I don't mind. I'd love to see what you got me," I spoke softly, meaning every word. What's happened to me, I thought. Not only had my body been feminized, but I could tell that somehow my mind had been fixed too! I had almost instantly accepted my sex change, and almost as quickly bonded with my Mom. I now truly had to entertain the possibility that I real was born a girl after all - no real man could ever tolerate or accept such an overwhelmingly total and permanent feminization. The smile on my Mom's face spread wider than ever. She immediately produced a small gift-wrapped present, which she thrust at me eagerly. I gently pulled the ribbon off, and slid the lid off the box. Inside I saw a beautiful white lace bra and panty set, with matching suspender belt and stockings. My own reaction took me by surprise: I was thrilled - they were the nicest lingerie that I'd ever seen, and I couldn't wait to try them on. "Thanks Mom! They're great!" I yelled out with all honesty. "You put those on while I go get the rest of your outfit from outside," she said, gleefully. As she left, I felt myself stricken with excitement. Deep down, I knew that this was a fake feeling. I couldn't possibly have just woken up like this, with a full-on female mind set. It felt like I was following a script, and in this script I was compelled to put on these pretty garments as fast as I could. I hurriedly took off the hospital gown off, slid my shaking hands through the bra straps, and pressed the cups against my exposed breasts. I reached around my back and with disturbing ease hooked the catch. It was tight, but it was comforting. I gently stepped into the panties, and felt them brush against my smooth hairless legs as I put them on. Next, I wrapped the suspender belt around my waist, in preparation for the stockings I was now eagerly and softly covering my legs with. The fabric felt like magic against my legs. I instinctively knew to sit whilst I was putting them on, so that I wouldn't get creases in the stockings when I sat down. How could I have known that? Surely I didn't wear underwear like this when I was four, did I? By now I felt myself craving to get the job finished. I confidently attached the belt's straps to the tops of the stockings. Instinctively, I loved the way it framed my butt, and enhanced the look of my hips and my dickless, lace-wrapped crotch. My Mom returned, and caught the expression of pride and happiness on my face. "My, you look beautiful dear! I just knew you'd suit that style...so pretty and feminine! Here.. take a look at the dress I bought you." She opened up another box to reveal a stunning sleeveless little white dress, similar to the one worn so famously by Sharon Stone. I stared it with longing. I swear, I'd never been so sure that I wanted to wear something in my whole life. It was exactly the kind of dress that John, when he had been Clare, would have killed for. Trembling, I stepped into it, and as the final symbolic act in my transition to womanhood, I slipped my arms into the armholes and allowed my Mom to zip it up the back. I felt it fold and fit around my breasts and hips, and at that moment it felt completely right. As I stepped into my high-heeled pumps, I reminded myself that I was now my parent's daughter and my brother's sister. I desperately wanted to know why I seemed to like the idea. I couldn't understand why it all felt so 'right'. I smiled as I twirled for my Mom. She was finding it difficult to contain her excitement at having her daughter back. I guessed that she didn't think of me as 'John turned into Clare' but 'Clare getting out of her weird Tomboy phase' as if I'd been Clare my entire life. "Come on, Sweetie. Let's go show you off to the Boys!" She squealed. "I can't wait! Do I look okay to you Mom?" "You look more beautiful that I've ever seen you," she said honestly. "Thanks for everything Mom! I love you!" I cried, meaning it equally as honestly. Oh yes, I thought. This definitely wasn't me. I had to get to the bottom of this 'new me' before I couldn't tell the difference between what was normal, and normal for me as a male anymore. I arrived home to find the house decorated with 'Welcome home Clare' banners everywhere. It was a proper little party going on. At first, I was greeted by my Dad. His eyes popped out of his head when he saw me, but he quickly regained his dignity. "Welcome home Clare! How are you feeling?" he asked. I told him I felt great. "You've done a great thing, you know. You've put this family back together. Okay, so you've had to make a little sacrifice, but you seem to have adapted okay..." he enquired, scrutinising my expression carefully. "Yeah, Dad.. I'll be fine, don't worry!" and I hugged him. Can you believe it? I felt myself wanting to regret it, but I didn't. I was getting really confused. He returned the hug warmly. "It's great having my daughter back. Your Mom's also thrilled. She's really missed you while you've been away." I wondered cynically if he meant six months, two years or 12 years. Anyway, I smiled sweetly and asked if I could be excused so I could go see my brother. "Sure," he said. "He's been dying to see how it all went! He's upstairs in his room. Just go on up." And so I did. I knocked on my old bedroom door. I still felt hurt about it's loss, but for some reason I know couldn't help but think that my new room was more 'me'. The idea of spending any extended time in my messy old room really made me feel a bit..well...icky. There was no other word to describe it. It was like I'd developed an allergy to dirt and mess. The door opened, and I saw myself standing on the other side, with my jaw dropped to the floor. Correct that: I saw myself as I used to be. It was John, my brother. Like I had been transformed into an exact double of the way John used to look when he was a girl, he'd become a carbon-copy of the old me. We were both speechless for some time, just admiring each other. "So, Bro.," I started. "How's things?" "Never been better, Sis. And you?" "Oh, I'm just peachy. I feel great! What do you think of the outfit?" I asked, excited. John just shrugged his shoulders and dismissed me. A true man for sure. There was another pause, which was broken by John's face twisting into an evil sneer. "Well, Girlie. Looks like I really fucked you up, didn't I?" he snapped. I was crushed. "John! What's got into you?" I trembled, physically ill from fear. "You haven't figured it out yet, have you Girlie? Too much for your pretty little brain to cope with is it?" He spat. "What are you saying? Why are you being like this, John?" I had tears in my eyes by now. I hated this rejection. "You're not wondering why you don't remember the last 6 months? Or why you didn't care when you woke up without a dick? Maybe you're a little interested to know why you couldn't get into that pretty little outfit of yours fast enough?" "STOP!" I cried, but he didn't. "Maybe you've spotted that you've formed a cosy little mother- daughter relationship thing. In fact, maybe you'd like to know why you've started thinking as feminine as you look?" "I'm sorry! You were right all along! I must have been born a girl! This is what I did to you all those years ago!" I wept. "Uh uh uh, little Sister. I've got a confession to make. Remember the hypnosis you went under to help you remember our past? Those memories were fake! I had him implant those memories in your head, so that you would incriminate yourself on tape!" "You mean... I wasn't born a girl?" I asked, confused. "Wait up, Clare, I'm not finished. I also had the hypnotist make a few other.. suggestions." John laughed. "..you made me.. think like a girl? You've programmed me?" I was staggered. Surely it couldn't be done. "Oh yes, Sweetie. I've had you programmed all right. Just as a little example - every time someone calls you Clare, you'll lose another memory of your life as John. I bet that seems like a long time ago, doesn't it, Girlie?" I guess as John I would have punched him right there and then. Instead I just started crying uncontrollably - not because of what he was actually saying, but the hurtful, spiteful way he was saying it. "There's also a few other little things I insisted on, apart from the complete feminization," he started. "Naturally, I made sure that you'd have no desire to ever reverse this little situation. You had your shot at manhood, and you blew it, okay..." "Stop that, John. Leave your sister alone, " my Mom interrupted. I don't know how long she'd been listening, but I was pleased to see her! "The brainwashing.. can it be undone? Tell me!" I demanded. My Mom offered the answer. "Technically, yes. But it's not recommended - the hypnosis gives you everything you need to get used to being a girl. Without it...well, it could be disastrous. In fact, I think it's time I told you both the truth. It's only fair I think." "Yeah Mom.. tell her she WAS born a girl!" John sneered. She glared at him, coldly. "In fact, John, she was born male." My Mom looked guiltily at the floor. John's face went white. I predictably began crying. "and so were you," she said, nodding to John. She went on to explain what really happened. After we were born, she was unable to have anymore children. They'd desperately wanted both a boy and a girl, but nature had denied them. As a result, they decided to cheat nature, and choose one of us to become a little girl. As toddlers, we'd have no recollection or even understanding. As I was the quieter of the siblings, I was picked to become Clare. Strangely even at that early age I hated it, and rebelled. I forced my brother to wear my new dresses, and made him tell our parents that he wanted to be the girl, not me. It worked. My brother disappeared for several weeks and returned a legal and medical girl. "I guess you were both right, after all," she offered. We were all in tears, especially me. My brother was a total innocent in this matter, and I was now pleased the he had been restored to full masculinity. Maybe it was only fair then, that I should accept my new-found womanhood, as least for a while. I owed it to John. (the end)