Growing Up Cindy free porn video

All constructive comments are welcome. Please e-mail to me: [email protected] or [email protected] Growing Up Cindy by Samantha Michelle My first memories are of my mommy playing dolls with me in my crib, and singing softly as she nursed me. I grew quickly, and I was a chatty little kid, and by four Mom would take me out to play with the other little girls. I remember always being dressed in skirts and layer after layer of soft, frilly underwear. I was treated like a little princess, and by five I was told that my father had died just after I was born, leaving Mom enough money to raise me without worry. I also learned I was different from the other little girls. Mom explained that some people are born without parts, like my friend Linda, who had only three fingers on each hand. And sometimes they are born with the wrong parts, like me. All the other girls had innies, but I had an outie, just like the boys, even though I was a girl. Not that it mattered much. Mom gave me some special underwear that let me look like the other girls with my panties on. And since it was a bad thing to let others see my private parts, no one but me knew. Mom was death on fighting, so I learned to behave like a young lady, or risk standing for my supper. By third grade I was a real tom-boy. Mom got me an excuse for gym, so I wouldn't have to show anyone my secret. I always wore shorts and jeans when I played. But I loved how I looked in one of the beautiful dresses Mom was always buying me. And she bought more when she found I would wear them much more often if she let me wear heels and makeup. In fourth grade mom let me get my ears pierced twice, and my first compete makeover at Mom's beauty salon. I dressed as nicely as I could for a week, carefully protecting my new, long, painted nails. Mom made me take dancing lessons, and every Tuesday and Thursday evening I had to attend some sort of finishing school where I learned to move, act, and speak like someone out of a movie about royalty. And I learned fast. Mistakes were corrected with what I thought was a wooden pancake turner. On my pantied bottom. At least on weekends she let me wear pants and shorts to play. Soon I could out-wrestle and out-climb all the other girls my age. In the fifth grade I started to get funny feelings in my extra parts when I wrestled with another girl. And I started to play real often with myself, which felt so good. I knew what I was doing because they had taught us about it in health class. A lot of the girls said they could do it five or six times. I could only do it two or three, and I had to wait a long time before I could do it again. I had also started to grow. I was already a big, strong kid. Now I was becoming a big, strong, and tall kid. Mom seemed unhappy when she found how fast I was growing. And not just because I was outgrowing my clothes faster than she could buy me new ones. At the beginning of sixth grade I started getting hair in my pits and down in my crotch. When I told Mom I needed a razor, she almost came unglued. The next week I got a Lady Gillette, and she took me to the same special doctor I always saw for a checkup and a school physical. Soon I was given some vitamins she said would help me grow up as a healthy young woman. So I took them every day, just as she instructed. I felt weird for a couple of weeks, and cried a lot. But after a while I felt fine, maybe even a bit more relaxed. It was only when I realized I was washing a lot fewer panties each week that I figured out I was not playing with myself as often, and when I did, it took a lot longer. I managed, red-faced, to tell Mom, and she said she understood, and told me to take the vitamins only every other day. Soon it was easier to masturbate, but I still did not do it as often. But I had other things on my mind. Girls. I was developing a fascination about other girls. Which would sometimes make my extra parts hard, and get me all tingly inside. In health class they had taught us about homosexuality, so I guessed I might be one of those girls they called lesbians. Which didn't make sense but since it felt so good to hug and kiss other girls, I quit worrying about it. Mom was really adamant about my staying a virgin, and I didn't want to catch some weird disease, so my clothes stayed on. Instead of seventh grade, Mom enrolled me in a private girls' school. I lasted three weeks. What a bunch of prissy little snots. I was the biggest and tallest seventh-grader, and nearly the flattest. So I got teased a lot. When one of the eighth-grade girls, who looked like an ad for a paint store, pinched one of my nipples "to see if I was really a girl", I stuffed her head-first into a lunch-room trash can. Several times. She came out looking like a badly tossed salad. And I got tossed out on my ear. So it was back to public school. Boys there didn't interest me. Mom had taken me to the St. Louis Zoo, and we had seen the monkeys. They were more interesting, and a lot funnier, than boys. But boys were sure interested in me. Mom said I had great legs, and she let me wear really short skirts and shorts. And heels. No heels, no skirts. Bribery is not always one-sided. In eighth grade I suddenly started to grow again. Up and out. Mom complained about having to shop for groceries three times a week. I complained that I ached all over, especially my breasts. She got me some cream, and told me to gently massage it into my skin at night. Once I used it, I was hooked. Gawd it felt great to massage myself. Soon I found I could come, once, by giving myself a long and sensual massage. As my chest grew, so did the number of boys pestering me. Then my bottom bloomed, and my hips got wider, I loved my new look, and figured the boys were like flies; they followed anything sweet and edible. In tenth grade I met Joyce. By now I was six-one, and measured 38-25-38 with a big chest and firm B-cup breasts. And lots of lean muscles. Mom wouldn't let me do any competitive sports, saying my extra parts would get me in a lot of trouble. But there were aerobics classes after school, and when the weather was good I ran cross-country and swam. So my great legs got even better. Jiggling hurt, so I had to invest in several squash-em-flat sports bras. Which still didn't deter the boys. Joyce was athletic like me, but in a really compact package. One day two guys were teasing her about being a dyke, and when one of them started fondling her, I lost my temper. I didn't know a boy could sing soprano. It was quite a fight. Another boy, who was really big, tried to intervene and I tried to slug him. I had been bounced off the ground once, the building twice, and was on my way, butt-first, to a landing in a rose bush when the teachers finally arrived to break up the fight. I did a lot of dancing and howling, and created a general ruckus as I tried to pull thorns out of my bottom and private parts. All of us got sent home, and were told to bring our parents the next morning for sentencing. The big guy apologized for the rose bush, saying I fought really good for a girl. I surprised myself by returning his handshake. When out hands met, I got a funny feeling inside, kind of like when I kissed a girl. Strange. Mom came to get me. I had to lay on the back seat of her car, because sitting was impossible with my backside full of thorns. Mom was giving me hell for fighting. When I finally told her she was becoming more of a pain on the butt than the thorns, she made funny noises and shut up. I spent the evening draped over a footstool with my bare bottom in the breeze. Mom had a bottle of peroxide, and a forceps. And no sympathy. I slept, some, on my stomach, and ate breakfast standing. I even managed the bathroom without touchdown. Owww. I wound up wearing three pairs of cotton panties so my skirt wouldn't rub too much. Mom was not sympathetic. I had to travel on my stomach again. We all met in the principal's office. The guy I had punted was absent, and we found he was both suspended for thirty days, and in the hospital being treated for severe bruising and swelling. Joyce commented about things the size of apples, and when it registered, I cringed. The guy that was pounding on Joyce also got suspended for thirty days, and ordered to pay her for her damaged clothes. Joyce was limping, and I found she had sprained her ankle kicking him. The big guy, whose name was Emil, apologized, and was given a suspended three-day suspension. And he had to pay for the rose bush and my clothes. He was really sympathetic when I described the thorn removal and my inability to sit. As with all weird news, it was all over the school by second period. Especially with Joyce limping and my having to stand in class. At lunch. Emil joined us in the cafeteria, and I found him, well, interesting. He was the first boy that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. And that scared me, because I was not built right for a girl. Joyce met me after school, and since sitting in a bus was not a option yet, she hobbled home with me. We were quite a sight. In my heels I was nearly six-six, and in her tennis shoes she might have been five-two. I thought she was cute, though just a bit on the blocky side. Her thighs were bigger and stronger than mine, and I thought her boobs were huge. After repeatedly thanking me for rescuing her the day before, she stopped us, and looked up at me. "Look, before you get yourself hurt, what they said was true. I'm gay, a lesbian, a dyke. So if it bothers you, tell me, and I'll disappear." "Hey, guy's don't make my toes curl. Other girls do. But I don't know if I'm a lesbian or not. Especially after yesterday." Her eyebrows went up. So I explained about Emil. She looked really confused. "So a guy who beats the crap out of you turns you on, but regular guys don't? I nodded. "Gads, you're as weird as me!" She gave me hug. We wound up at my house, and spent the rest of the afternoon chatting and doing homework. By late Saturday all the thorns were out, and I could sit if I was very careful. Joyce and I were rapidly becoming friends. And Emil called and asked me out on a date for Sunday afternoon. Mom had a fit, but finally agreed. He turned out to be a perfect gentleman. We went to a movie, Dutch. And left part-way through, mutually agreeing it was awful. So he took me to lunch. Between us, a large pizza was doomed. We headed for a mall, where he insisted on buying me a replacement outfit. I expected him to suggest something revealing. Instead he found me a super-soft cotton circle skirt and a real angora sweater with a high neck. When I tried them on, the angora sent sensual overload warning through my whole body. I pulled it off, and took off my bra. Putting it back on was an incredible experience. I looked in the mirror. The bulges formed by my now very erect nipples were clearly visible. I looked at least eighteen. And felt really funny inside. When I wrapped myself around him, and gave him a deep, tongue-sharing kiss, he seemed startled, and then scared. But he stayed with me the rest of the afternoon. And I continued to tingle inside. When I asked Joyce about his and my reactions that evening, she was as confused as I was. Just before Thanksgiving, Joyce, Emil, and I were enjoying a hike in the nearby state park. We had become fast friends, and the presence of Emil, who was the heart-throb target of nearly every girl in the school, seemed to squelch the rumors about Joyce and me being lesbians. Which is funny, because I was pretty sure I was, but friendship was far more important to me than sex. We had never been intimate a bit. Except for some snuggles. We were bringing back several containers of frost-nipped blueberries when I stepped on a patch of moss, and with a mighty screech, slid into an icy creek. By the time they managed to pry me up the slippery bank, I was sort of blue and shivering uncontrollably. We were several miles from the trailhead, and I got worse as we tried to hurry back. Emil halted us at a sheltered location, and pulled his emergency kit from his pack. I remember him throwing a silvery plastic tarp on the ground, and stripping my clothes off. Then he and Joyce stripped, and sandwiched me between them, covering us with a couple more of the funny plastic tarps. I have only faint recollections of them talking to me and keeping me awake and moving until I started to become coherent. We stayed sandwiched like that until I was no longer shivering. Joyce climbed out, and pulled all the dry clothing in with us. And got candy bars from the packs. We nibbled the food as their clothes warmed. It was about that point that I realized I was completely naked, and started to shake and cry. "Cindy, what's wrong?" "You, you took off all my clothes, and you've seen..." I started to sob loudly. "That you are really a boy that dresses like a girl? It's weird. But you're our friend. And it was that or you would have died of hypothermia." "But I'm not a boy! My mom said I'm a girl that was born with boy's parts. Now everyone will know and laugh at me, and I'll be called a freak and..." "And we won't tell anyone. So quit worrying and stay warm, 'cause it's getting late and we still have to get back to the trailhead before nightfall." Emil pulled me against his naked body, and I was surprised to find he was hard. Very hard. Emil gave me his big sweater. I had to wear my wet socks, boots, and muddy pants, but it was not too bad. We made it, blueberries and all, back to the trailhead just at dark. Once in Emil's car, we turned the heat to maximum, and quietly roasted ourselves before we headed home. Because I was still weak and shaking, Joyce and Emil helped me inside. "Cindy? My god, what's happened?!" Mom met us at the door, and saw them supporting me. "She slipped and fell in a creek, and got badly chilled. We managed to get her warmed up using emergency blankets, but she is still pretty weak. And she is scared silly because we had to strip her icy clothes off, and learned her secret." Mom stared at them, and when comprehension hit, she fainted. So we wound up carrying her to the couch, and wrapping her in a comforter. Joyce and Emil called home to tell their parents what happened, and that they were going to stay at my house and keep me company until they were certain I was going to be okay. I didn't object as they collected blankets and made a cocoon of me in the big recliner. After a trip to the bathroom. They were feeding me warm broth and toast when mom woke up, and started to scream. So they held her until she calmed down. I wanted to help, but could barely wiggle in my warm wrappings. "Ms. Wilson, please don't worry. Cindy's secret is safe with us." "But, but now you know she's not really a girl, and..." "WHAT!" I screamed at the top of my voice. "Mom, you told me I was a girl who was born with the wrong parts!" Emil came over and held me. Mom started to cry again. She managed to force out "Cindy, this is not the time or place for me to explain what has happened, and why. If you chose to hate me I will understand, but for now, please, I love you." She came completely unglued. Joyce held her, and Emil held me for a long time. Emil carried me upstairs, still wrapped tightly in the blankets, and put me to bed. He then undressed, and climbed in next to me. "Emil, you don't have to do this. I've deceived you and hurt you and..." "And you need sleep and I need to hold you." He kissed me, and I did my best to snuggle against him despite the cocoon. I was too spent and confused to think, and fell asleep in his arms. The next morning I woke, desperately needing to pee. Emil was staring at me from a few inches away. "Morning, beautiful." "Help! I've got to go and I can't move and... " He hopped up, naked, and proceeded to unwrap me. When the last layer came off, I managed to run, almost naked, for the bathroom. When I came out, Joyce and Emil were waiting for me. Joyce, an angry look on her face, handed me a change of clothes, and pushed me back into the bathroom. "You need a shower. And we need to talk." I stared at her. She peeled my underwear off against my protestations, and started the shower. "Your mother and I had a long talk last night. She told me the whole story." I got shoved into the shower, and handed the shampoo. "What she did to you was wrong. Horribly, criminally wrong. But she did it out of love for you." I started to say something. "No, she will explain it to you. She owes you the complete truth. Emil and I will be here to help you through the bad parts. Now finish up. She is making us all breakfast." I shivered despite the warm water. When I was finally dressed, Joyce escorted me down to the dining room, where Emil was keeping an eye on Mom, who was red-eyed and had a terrified expression on her tear-streaked face. "Please Cindy, eat some breakfast, and let me tell you the whole story. From the beginning. Then yell at me, and hate me. And I won't stop you if you want to leave." I sat down, with a push from Joyce. The bacon, eggs, and toast were wonderful. And I was starving. Emil and Joyce sandwiched me between them, and nibbled at their own food. Mom had barely touched hers, sipped nervously at her coffee, then started. "Your father did not die just after you were born. He was an abusive drunk, and I divorced him out of fear for my life, and that of my unborn child. You. But he was adamant that if you were a boy, he was going to take you away from me, and raise you to be like him." She paused. "The midwife knew of his threat. So when you were born a boy, she put your name on the birth certificate as Cindy Marie Wilson, and marked the sex as female. Your father was disgusted you were born a girl, but did not leave town. The reason I had enough money was the divorce settlement was very large, and he had to pay a lot of child support. So I felt I had no choice but to raise you as a girl. And after his abuse, I wanted you to grow up kind and gentle, so unlike him." She started to shake, and sat there for a while with her head in her hands. "When you started to develop like a teenage boy, I could not face losing the daughter I so loved and cherished. So the vitamins I gave you were hormones to cause you to mature as a young woman. And even when he finally died from his drinking last year, I could not bear to tell you, because I knew you would hate me and leave me alone...all alone." She put her head back on her arms. "If you hate me, I will understand. If you want me to leave, I will turn over everything I own to you, and move away. There is more than enough money for you to live the rest of your life in comfort." She started to cry again, and soon was wracked by her sobbing. "What she has not said is that the changes are mostly not reversible. Even if you are still capable of fathering children, which is remotely possible, you will always be tiny down there, and will look like a girl." Joyce glared angrily at my mother. "She has taken from you the choice of how to live your life. You are my best friend, and I hate her for doing this to you." Mom sobbed louder. I looked over at Emil. Instead of angry, he looked extremely sad, and was shaking his head. "I can't hate her. Your mother did what she did out of love and fear." He put his hand out to me. "Cindy, I love you whether you are a boy or a girl. I love the person named Cindy. Don't destroy the person I love out of hate and anger." He pulled me to him and hugged me. I was confused, and angry, and sad, and so many things all mixed up that all I could do was cling to him. When I finally came to a conclusion, I pulled away. "Joyce, you are my friend. Cindy's friend. Can you be my friend knowing I'm really a boy?" "I love you. I wanted to be your partner. And now I can't because I know you are really a boy, and boys turn me off, and..." She started to cry. I held her close. "Are you so certain that we can't love each other as friends?" She looked up at me. "And maybe, just maybe, you need to find out if I really do turn you off." I gave her a deep kiss, and she pressed herself against me. We shared that kiss until I could not breathe. "But I need to tell my mother something. Now. So let Emil hold you for a while." She snuggled against him, and I turned to face my mom, who was staring at me in fear. I walked around the table to her. "I love you." And crying, hugged her to me. She collapsed, sobbing, into my arms. "Thank god Thank god Thank god." Was all she could manage. We stayed hugging each other, and were joined by Joyce and Emil. When we finally separated, we used up most of a box of tissues. Emil drove Joyce home, after promising they would be back tomorrow morning to pick me up for school. After they left, Mom and I stared at each other across the table. "What are you going to do?" She looked afraid. I sat and thought. "Nothing for a few days. I want to get a complete physical, from a different doctor, and find out if I can father children." I closed my eyes and thought some more. "I have no idea what it would be like to be a boy. All my life I have been Cindy. Maybe there are some counselors out there that know about this stuff, and can help me." "Should I still call you Cindy, or..." "Mom, I am Cindy, your daughter. That will never change. Even if I decide I want to be a boy, Cindy will always be here too." We cried on each other again. Mom finally decided she was too stressed to make dinner, and suggested we go out. I went to change, and she was startled when I came out of my room dressed in a microskirt and heels. "But..." "Mom, this is me. The real me. The girl with the incredible legs, remember? No one is going to take that away. Besides, I like looking pretty. It's something I guess guys don't really understand. But I can. And I think its great." We headed out the door. At the beginning of Christmas break I received the results of my physical. Mom had arranged for me to visit a university medical center where they specialized in boys who wanted to become girls. The results were encouraging. I was still fertile, although my sperm count was very low. I had finished my growth, so no hormonal changes would further alter my bone structure. And I was extremely healthy. They prescribed a different level of hormones, saying I needed a maintenance dose, which should have less effect on my fertility. While there, I spoke several times to a psychiatrist who specialized in children with what he called gender confusion. He recommended a specific counselor in our area, but told me that I seemed to be on a good track when I explained what I was planning to do. The four of us sat down together that Saturday morning over breakfast. Mom was still scared, and both Joyce and Emil were afraid I was going to do something foolish, or leave, or both. I had Mom give the rundown on my physical. Then, slowly sipping my orange juice, I made my announcement. "I have decided that I am going to stay Cindy. And probably live the rest of my life as a woman." Everyone jumped up and grabbed and hugged me. I finally had to pry them off and get them to sit down. "The psychiatrist I spoke with said I can, if I want, learn to be a boy and eventually a man. He said that most boys who were forcibly raised as girls, and yes, there are others, have always hated it. But I've been okay with who I am. Cindy. Who happens to be a girl. He gave me some tests, and said I'm one of those people who psychologically is neither strongly male or female. He said I'm more male that female, but not enough to recommend I change how I live. In his words, if it isn't broken, don't fix it. He did say I will have some social problems unless I remain single and unattached, or can accept being considered by most as a lesbian. I had already made that decision, so it is not a problem." I took a deep breath, and looked at Emil. "He also said I am probably a heterosexual male. At least in orientation. Which explains why girls have always turned me on, and guys don't." The look on Emil's face was strained. "There are other legal concerns in some states, and I will need to have the proper documentation from a physician and a psychiatrist to ensure I don't get discriminated against if my secret gets out. The medical doctors also said that I will have lots mechanical problems if I want to make love and father children in the usual way, because I am so small." Mom cringed and looked sad. "For fathering children, it won't really be a problem, as they said it will be easy to collect and store the needed sperm, which will also help with my low counts. Provided my partner is willing, we can use artificial insemination techniques. For sex," I shrugged "both the medical doctors and the psychiatrist told me to accept the way I am, and learn other methods of giving and receiving sexual attention." Everyone was watching me. Mom looked both relieved and miserable. Emil and Joyce seemed pensive, like there was something I had left out. Emil got up, and hugged me. "Cindy, does this mean we can at least stay friends?" I looked at mom. And Joyce. And listened to the tingling running through me. "Mom, can our budget stand my getting a three-bedroom hotel suite for a week? I need to spend some private time with my two best friends." Joyce glued herself to me. "Start packing. But be here for Christmas dinner." The three of us headed upstairs. "Call your parents and tell them you are spending the week with me." "But I'm not sure that..." "That's why there are three bedrooms. Emil, are you game?" His kiss left no doubt of his agreement. Joyce looked jealous. "Okay, I'm in. Who's bringing the toys?" We both started at her. "Hey, if you're going to be a lesbian, there's a lot of ways to have fun." She grinned, then pouted. I tingled. "Um, I'm like broke and well, there are some things I need and..." "Tell my mom. I bet she'll cover the costs. With a smile." Packing my stuff was fast. Mom outdid herself. We were booked at a small retreat several miles from the city. She said it was a "luxury suite". We stopped and collected Joyce's and Emil's things, and headed out of town, via a little shop where Joyce made several purchases. We didn't talk much, just glanced at each other, and her packages, with questioning smiles. The first thing we noticed after checking in was the full, softly burbling, king-size hot tub in the middle of the suite. I won't describe what happened behind my bedroom door. Or in the hot tub. Suffice it to say that Joyce is a hardwired lesbian. But she taught me how to pleasure a woman without using my tiny male parts. And how a woman can please another woman without ever going below waist. We came to the realization that we were not destined to be lovers, just very close friends. I think friends are more important. Emil confessed to both of us the reason he acted so strange towards me. We were in the hot tub at the time, and Joyce nearly drowned trying not to laugh. "I've never been really sexually attracted to either boys or girls. So when you and I fought, and then spent time together, I realized that, at least a little, you turned me on. Sex isn't important to me, I do fine flying with my personal palm pilot if I get too much back pressure. But I have always craved companionship. And there is something special about you that makes me want to, well, take you and snuggle up in bed." He was turning red. To his toes. After we rescued Joyce from trying to inhale too much chlorine, Emil and I retired to my room for the remainder of the day. Mmmm... I was surprised, but not astounded, when Joyce asked if she could borrow Emil for a few hours. They seemed relaxed when they finally came out for food. I didn't ask. We came back a day early. We all had a lot of emotions that needed to be sorted through. Plus I was beginning to notice the effects that greatly lowering my hormone dosage was having, and didn't want to upset people with my increased horniness and aggressiveness. By the end of the Christmas break, I was irritable, drooling over pretty girls, and wondering if I wanted to give up any chance to be a boy to stop the emotional overload. When I called he Doctor at the University, he told me that I just needed to change my dosage a bit. That afternoon, I got a shot in the bottom, and a different dosage of hormones. By New Year's I was back to my old self again. At my suggestion, after the holidays Emil attended several sessions with me and my counselor, and then a few sessions by himself. He soon learned that he was actually one of many people who are primarily auto-erotic, and have little need for sexual relations with others. But they also have a normal need for emotional interaction, which usually causes them great problems. For us, it meant that our relationship was nearly ideal. So it was at the Senior prom that Emil formally proposed to me, and I, like any other young woman in love, made a spectacular fool of myself as I cried and hugged him while screaming YES! YES! YES! to all that could hear. I think the prom was wonderful, but I was too happy to notice. His parents were startled when we told them my secret, but they already knew we were in love, and after some counseling were able to accept that my being a genetic male really didn't matter to Emil. When his father offered to pay for the surgery to make me into a complete woman once we were married, Emil and I spent a lot time with my counselor. After many discussions, we decided that being able to make love that way was really not that important, so we opted for some cosmetic adjustments that gave me a much more feminine appearance without removing anything. Emil and I were married in a small, private ceremony in late August. With my birth certificate showing me as a young woman, there were no embarrassing questions, and the ceremony was beautiful. Joyce was my maid of honor. I think she cried more than I did. Mom outdid us all. Instead of a honeymoon, Emil and I packed to head off to college. He is majoring in business, and I'm taking general courses, with a slight emphasis on those needed for a teaching degree. Mostly we intend to enjoy school, and each other's company. Finis.