Unusual Punishment, Part 3 free porn video

Unusual Punishment by Norman O. Johnson Part Three: Temporary Girl I had come to Ida Cynthia Watkins Girls' Reformatory as a boy trapped in a girl's body. That was my first emasculation. As the fall quarter went on, I became a boy trapped in a girl's body impersonating a girl. That was my second emasculation. But there was a third set of male parts tucked away in my brain. In September, I resolved to keep them always. In mid- November, I noticed an invisible knife inside my brain, poised to sever that last set. The hand holding the knife was mine. An unbelievable thing had happened. A part of me had come to enjoy being Karen. Myron Hirsch, my science teacher, was also a Rabbi. He was the one whom I had chosen to share my feelings with. What I had to say would be too shocking to say to my parents. He had a tiny office in a cubicle in a room on the ground floor of the classroom building. You couldn't really have a private conversation there when other people were around, so we scheduled our session for 5:00 PM one Wednesday afternoon, after the rest of the teachers had left. I came in my school uniform. I was wearing a low-maintenance face, no makeup except some lip gloss. I had plucked my eyebrows recently, but not severely. My new 'do was designed for minimum attention. It was what they used to call a shag haircut. It was retro, but looked good on me. We said hello. I sat, crossing my legs at the knee like a proper young lady. My upper thighs came together, reminding me for the million and first time that my transmitter had been replaced by a receiver. "Rabbi, I'll come right to the point. As you've already guessed, I'm a freak bitch. I used to be a guy named Kevin." "I guessed that," he said with a nod. "For the first couple of weeks, you had no idea how to sit in a skirt." I snickered. "Yeah, my feminine training has come quite a long way since then. I can walk, talk, smile, dress, set down, sit up, bend over, and cross my legs in a skirt, just like a girl. My girlfriends have showed me some stuff." He looked at me skeptically. "Is this what you really want, uh, Kevin?" "Please, call me Karen. It's the role I'm playing right now. We freak bitches are required to act girly. Not absolutely girly, but a bit of both. It's a butch-femme style. The other freak in my gang, Noodle---you'd call her Teresa Jameson---is this way too." I snickered. "A girl who came to Ida Watkins after me thought I was a gang leader." I was proud of that. He shook his head slowly, with dismay. "Karen, you were Kevin for many years. I can't believe you prefer being a girl." "That's the weird part, Rabbi. I told myself at the start that I'd put up with this for a year. Then I'd switch back. In the meantime, I'd stay Kevin inside my head." I was in turmoil inside. I could feel my heartbeat speeding up. "Now look at me. I'm sitting here with my legs crossed, and the feeling between my upper thighs is that 'it' isn't there any more. There's a part of me that still mourns that, still thinks that's a loss, and wants to get it back." I had to struggle to keep from shouting. "But now, there's also a part of me that says I misused those organs, so it's only fair I don't have them any more. Now, there's also a part of me that says it's okay I don't have them any more, because I'm a girl, and girls have something just as special, but different. My crotch feels so neat and so clean without those things hanging down. That's the part of me, Rabbi, that says I like being a girl." He looked closely at me. "Did you want to be a girl when you were four or five years old?" "No. I was a scruffy kid, rolling in the dirt, climbing trees, shooting toy guns, blasting aliens on my Nintendo. The whole nine yards. I was all boy, Rabbi. But now---" I stopped abruptly. "Karen, gender identity is established at around four to five years of age. If you wanted to be a boy then, you don't want to be a girl now. Not down deep. Not really, 'Karen.'" I could almost hear the quotation marks around my name. His words sound kindly, and I could see the sympathy in his eyes. "I can see real advantages to being a woman, Rabbi. The kind of friendship that we have when we're just being a bunch of girls, gossiping and making fun of other girls' outfits, sharing our feelings, being vulnerable and feeling like it's okay to be that way. It's really kind of cool. Guys don't talk like that, Rabbi. Not often enough, anyway." He leaned forward again and rested his hands together on his crowded desk. His large brown eyes were still looking at me gravely. "And just being able to throw my face in my pillow and have a good cry sometimes," I continued. "I feel so much relief when I'm done. Guys don't get to do that either." Suddenly he looked right at me. "But you've made it clear you don't miss your penis, Karen. Or a part of you does. You just told me that." "Part of me does, but to be honest, Rabbi, it's not horrible any more. Yes, it's more convenient to pee standing up. But how much longer does sitting take, a minute? I can fit that in. Besides, the male sex drive, the intense gnawing hunger that guys have, do I need to tell you what a bitch it can be? Rabbi, it's a relief not to have it any more. I don't have to spank the monkey or get laid all the time. I can think about other stuff now." He was shaking his head. "Karen, you sound very confused to me." I started talking faster, louder, and with more enthusiasm. "My favorite sport used to be racquetball. I still play it, and you know what? This body never feels better than when I'm out there on the court. Sometimes after a game, when I'm in the shower, rubbing soap on myself, this body really feels like mine. I'm not trapped in it. I'm not castrated. I'm a girl. It's so weird." "Karen," he gently said, "I have a question for you, and I want you to answer it at a lower volume." "Okay." Suddenly, I was spent. I had just discharged all the words in my arsenal. "What are you in here for?" I am convinced he'd already read my file. He just wanted to get me to say it. "I fucked an underage girl," I said, looking away from him. "It was statutory rape. I used to excuse myself because I didn't force myself on her. Now, I am so ashamed about what I did to her. I was an asshole. I understand girls so much better than I used to. I understand that special vulnerability girls have." He nodded again. "And I'm starting to understand you, Karen. In part, your new self- definition as Karen is the product of guilt over the way you treated that underage girl." "I feel more ashamed than guilty," I quickly replied. I took a deep breath, and realized he had the essence of it, even if guilt wasn't the right word. "Feeling ashamed of it, that's one of the things that's changing me. You're also right about me being confused." "This unusual punishment you're undergoing was intended to teach you a lesson," said Rabbi Hirsch. "For what it's worth, I think it's the wrong punishment, but I don't write the laws. I can tell that you're learning a valuable lesson, but there are less traumatic ways to teach it. Your original attitude, to remain Kevin inside your head, was a healthy one. What's happening now is, you're allowing your identity to be stolen. Stolen by the Juvenile Court, stolen by the all-girl atmosphere of this place, stolen by your girlfriends." I said nothing. I just looked closely at him. "Suppose you're allowed to stay female the rest of your life, Karen? There will be changes when you get out of this protected all-female environment and into the world. On the outside, real women have to put up with unwanted male attention, sexual harassment, rape, and the fear of rape that closes off so many avenues to them. Do you think you'll be able to handle that?" "I don't know, Rabbi." "Being a girl may feel very good on the day you walk out of here, and for some time after that, but the long-term consequences will be grave. Two, three, five years after you get out, you'll be lugging around a very heavy case of GID." "What's that?" "Gender Identity Dysphoria. In your case, a man trapped in a woman's body." "The BioConcentrator can fix that." He stirred impatiently in his seat. "Yes, Karen, it can. But if you switch back when you leave this place, the State will pay for it. It's part of your sentence. You're entitled to it. If you waive that right, and you decide later you want to be a man after all, then you'll have to pay for it. A BioConcentrator sex change is expensive, Karen. Health insurance doesn't cover it. The safest way is to switch back when you leave here. In the meantime, have fun with this temporary identity. It really is temporary. It's your decision to make, but I doubt you can enjoy it except in the short run." He looked at me closely again. "In fact, you probably won't have a choice in the matter anyway, so don't get too attached to being Karen." That was the essence of it. The Rabbi advised me to pray for strength and wisdom. I left with increased respect for him. He'd thrown a lot of cold water on my enthusiasm, but I knew he'd done it for my own good. Walking back up to my room, I had to run a gauntlet of girls from the First Floor Fillies. They leaned against the doorways of their rooms and shouted things about me to each other as I passed. Word had got around that Nylon used to be a he. "God damn! Ain't dat the sickest thang you ever did see? Fuckin' freak bitch." "Wonder how she like not havin' no peter no more?" Several Fillies laughed. "Wonder how she like shavin' her legs instead of her face?" "How do dat sex change ray work, anyway?" "It's easy. White men, dey ain't nothin' but big pussies nohow. De ray just concentrate it all between dey legs." "Oh, I understand. Dat why dey be callin' it a concentrator!" More laughter, harsher than before. "She a Mary's Girl now." "Don't you mean 'Mary's Boys?' Dey all freak bitches!" They all laughed at that one. "Hey, what about Angelo? De Mafia freak bitch?" "Ya mean de God-Mama who used to be a God-Father!" That was also a big laugh line. Possibly because of her height, Angel was widely believed outside the gang to be a sex change girl. Her father's Italian background was held against her too. Her full name was Maria Angelica DiCarlo. Angel thought that sounded classy. I agreed. I walked up the stairs to the second floor. My feet hit the steps a bit heavier than usual. A couple of months ago, I would've had to wipe my eyes after an encounter like this. Now, it didn't bother me so much. This is not the same as saying that it didn't bother me at all. Some, but not much. If Mary's Girls had all been white, the hostility of the black girls would've made a racist out of me. However, I was a sister to all the black girls in my own gang. By now, I thoroughly understood what the gangs at Ida_Watts were about. Security here was tight enough to prevent the gangs from having guns and dealing cocaine or heroin, and the absence male customers mean there was no prostitution, but the other aspect of gang membership, territoriality, was as important as ever. Many of the gangs were affiliated with national gang networks. We in Mary's Girls were Gangster Disciples, the First Floor Fillies were Bloods, and Double-D were Crips. The Hispanic girls' gang on the first floor, Las Muchachas, were Vatos Locos. There were several small gangs, mostly on the third floor, whose outside affiliations, if any, I never learned. I suspected the national gang networks used Ida-Watts as a recruiting center for their prostitution and drug-traffic rackets on the outside. The administration knew all about the gangs and tolerated them, so long as the gang truce prevailed. We were to settle our differences among ourselves, and for the most part we did. So long as this prevailed, the gang system was a source of stability. Without it, chaos would have reigned, one endless catfight. Such was my impression after two months at the school. Did it bother me to be a Gangster Disciple? Yes, it did. I had not entered this place with any romantic illusions about life in "de hood." I simply assumed that once I left this place, I would fade away into suburbia again as Kevin, and the Gangster Disciples wouldn't find me. In the meantime, I would use Mary's Girls to keep the other gangs off my back. ### When I got back to my room, my bladder was begging to be emptied. Just like dozens of times before, I lowered my panties, lifted my skirt and sat. I contemplated the new perspective that the Rabbi had given me: enjoy your new temporary identity, but remember that it's temporary. All the things I really didn't like: my shorter arms, the loss of muscle tone, my periods, were endurable for now. I knew exactly how many more periods I would have (ten), and because they were predictable I could plan for them. One was due to start in two days. Even sitting to pee wasn't so bad. It was relaxing, and took up very little extra time. I could take joy in the things I liked: my breasts, the smoothness of my skin, the sound of my new voice. I could enjoy being a girl, for now. As I wiped myself off, I reflected on the strange object between my legs. At the beginning I saw it as a wound that would bleed but never heal. But for now, I would treat it as a real sex organ. What would I call it? I reviewed all the usual dirty words. Even though lots of girls used them and I'd once used them freely myself, none were good enough for MY sex organ. I decided on Little Karen. Next September, I would be Kevin again. Since I would be seventeen and still a juvenile, the State probably wouldn't let me have a choice in the matter anyway. I resolved to take what joy I could in it till then. I pulled up my panties, got up from the toilet, and flushed it. Suddenly I noticed the rounded corner of the porcelain sink. I stepped up to it, raised my skirt in the front, and began to rub Little Karen against it through my panties. It felt good down there, a pleasant tingling. I was getting acquainted with my clitoris. It felt no bigger than a pea, but very sensitive. I didn't have an orgasm, but I didn't expect one either. After all, I was a very new girl. Somebody knocked on the bathroom door. "Yo, Nylon, you in there?" It was Noodle. "Yeah, what's up?" I was still stroking away. "See me when you get out." "You came at the right time. I'm just finishing up." I flushed the toilet again, just for appearance's sake. When I got out, Noodle showed me her new outfit, a navy jacket and matching pants with a light blue turtleneck sweater. Trey was nowhere to be seen. "Put your new suit on, so we can show de gang." "Cool! We be stylin'," I wisecracked. I stripped to my underwear and put on my suit. Dad had allowed me a modest clothing budget, which I used from time to time to mail- order some clothes. I was careful not to abuse it, because the credit card was in his name. My suit was in the same style and color as Noodle's, but my turtleneck was turquoise. A pair of black Rockport sneakers completed the look. Noodle checked me out and said, "You look fly, my brother." She smiled, but there was sadness in her large brown eyes. "Thanks, brother." I smiled gamely. She showed me a wallet-sized picture. It showed a tall lithe black bow twirling a basketball on a fingertip. The smile and the twinkle in his eyes resembled Noodle's in her happier moments. "That's me," she said proudly, "me, Tyrone Jameson, de way de Good Lord made me." She shook her head. "You look fly too, Noodle, but this picture of you as Tyrone looks even better." "What I done was wrong, Nylon, but dis thing dey done to me, it's too much. Ten minutes as a girl woulda been enough." "It would've been enough for me too, Noodle." She looked at me closely, like Rabbi Hirsch had done a while ago. "You ain't foolin' me, Nylon. You just frontin', playin' at bein' a girl. You joke about havin' a pussy, like it was no big deal, but down deep, you desperate to be a man again, and you know dat." My Kevin-aspect looked back at him and said, "You're right, Nylon. I'm frontin'. It's the only way I can think of to cope with this." I hadn't confided my new perspective to her, and I never would. She patted me on the shoulder. "Let's get in dere." We walked to Angel's room together and made our entrance. Much of her entourage was gathered there. "Yo! My girl Noodle and my girl Nylon, dey lookin' fine today!" Squeak piped up. "Dey do look nice," observed Shug, with a glance at us. She then went back to braiding Angel's hair. Princess looked up from the bottom bunk where she was finishing up painting the last of her toenails. "Dey in touch with dey masculine side," she said with a giggle. It was indeed the most butch outfit that Noodle and I could find in the gang's mail-order catalogues. Angel laughed. Her laugh was much deeper than her normal speaking voice. "You girls look good, and that's no lie." "Have a seat, Nylon," said Princess, patting the mattress beside her. She put her feet on the floor to let her toenails dry. "I got a question for my Israelite sister." I sat. "I wanna know why come y'all be worshippin' on Saturday," she asked. "Ain't the Sabbath day 'posed to be de day of rest?" "Saturday is the Sabbath day," I replied. "Get outa town!" Princess cried out, giggling some more. "Everybody know Sunday the Sabbath day." "When the Bible in the original Hebrew speaks of the Sabbath," I explained, "the word it uses for Sabbath is Shabbat, which is the Hebrew word for Saturday." "I got a cousin who a Seventh-Day Adventist," Noodle put in. She found herself a place on the mattress beside me. "Dat what he say." "You mean to tell me Christians don't be keepin' one of de Ten Commandments?" Princess asked. "Literally, no," I said, "but your Savior rose on Sunday, and that's the most important thing to a Christian, so you transferred your holy day to there." "Oh, Nylon." Princess put her hand on my shoulder, like a sister. "I do hope your interest in De Old Testament Scriptures will one day bring you to de Gospel of Jesus Christ." "Princess," I asked, "how do you reconcile being a Christian with being another girl's lover?" Squeak's mouth dropped open with alarm. Her head whipped around in Angel's direction. Angel did not react. "Angel my husband," said Princess, flashing her pearl-white teeth in Angel's direction. "She a female, but spiritually she my husband. De spirit more important dan de flesh." Angel laughed again. "Listen to that! If my girl Princess keeps saying that, those rumors about me being a freak bitch will start again." ### The following Saturday afternoon, Keyboard dropped by my room and whispered, "Come with me." I threw down my pencil and got up from my desk. My homework could wait till tomorrow. Keyboard's conspiratorial air intrigued me. "Where are we going?" She winked, held two fingers to her lips, and inhaled. Exchanging a knowing look with Trey, I left with Keyboard. She led me out of the dormitory to a place behind the gym, where we met Princess and another girl whom I recognized from the Saturday services. I half-remembered her name. "It's Rothstein, right?" I asked. "Darla Rothstein," she replied. "Redneck first name, Jewish last name. I asked my gang sisters to call me Daria, because of my favorite toon." Daria was wearing big clunky boots, a black skirt, and a baggy green jacket with broad lapels over an orange T-shirt. Her glasses had large circular lenses with thick black frames. A crown of auburn hair with a hint of red completed the picture. "Of course," she added, "I have to explain who she was, because 'Daria' was more of a cult classic than a hit." Even Daria's voice, a low- pitched monotone, sounded like the voice of the cartoon Daria. "You certainly look the part," I observed. "I used to watch 'Daria' with my brother when I was in grade school. He explained all the jokes to me." Only the cigarette in Daria's mouth marred the image. The buildings were smoke-free but smokers could step outside. Many of the girls at Ida- Watts smoked. One was Princess, who was finishing one off as we arrived. "I don't smoke," I said. "Oh, does that include wacky-tabacky?" Daria quipped. She pulled out a plastic bag from an inside pocket of her jacket. It was full of marijuana. It also contained three joints, already rolled. "I've done that once in a while," I replied. "I could use a hit now." I looked around. There were no guards in sight. Would other students snitch on us? I wondered. "If it's security you're worried about," said Daria, "let me reassure you. The worst thing the guards will do is confiscate the stuff and tell you what a favor they're doing you by not busting you. Then they'll smoke it themselves. It's well known around here that Ms. Martindale and Chief Hunsucker smoke pot." "Dem two, dey also lovers," said Princess, giggling. She put out her cigarette against the wall. "That is, after all, the state religion around here," Daria observed. She removed one of the joints from her package and put the pack away. "On the outside, my homosexuality was a part of my general contrarian position, but here, the real rebel is Keyboard." She nodded in Keyboard's direction. "That's me," said Keyboard. She tossed her shiny black hair, glanced in my direction, and grinned as if we shared a secret. I grinned back. "I'd offer you a light, but my lighter need fuel," observed Princess. "We'll light it from my cig. You take the first hit," said Daria. "Hey, thanks." Princess looked to me. "Dis prove de gang truce workin'. Daria a Filly." Princess put the joint in her mouth. "I don't usually take sides, but I joined the Fillies to keep from getting my ass kicked," said Daria. Leaning forward, she inhaled from her cigarette to light the joint. While Princess took the first hit, Daria crumpled her cigarette against the wall. Holding the smoke in her lungs, Princess passed me the joint. "That's a motive," I said, "that I can easily understand." I took a hit. As I held in the smoke, Keyboard frowned and spoke again. "I have to do a book report for Angel," she growled. "I hate that." "Reality check, Keyboard," said Daria. "This medium-security prison with classrooms, allegedly a school, is full of prostitutes, drug dealers, and cocaine addicts. They're gonna worry about cheating on their homework? I don't think so." "I still don't like having to do it," said Keyboard, taking the joint from me. "Do it stoned then." Daria raised an eyebrow. "Like Coleridge writing his poetry while smoking opium pipes." "Who's Coleridge?" asked Princess, letting out her first hit. "English poet, early 1800's," said Daria. Coughing, I let out my first toke. "I have to do her math homework. I don't think I'll be able to do that stoned." Keyboard laughed, letting out a thick white puff. As the joint worked its way around the circle again and again, Daria and I got acquainted. "I've been here since April," she said. "I used to order books and videos on- line using the credit card numbers of total strangers. Not a wise move, I admit." "There's also the widespread belief that stealing is wrong," I added. "Reality check, Nylon, the distribution of economic rewards in this society is a much bigger crime than anything I did." "It's still stealing, Daria," Keyboard insisted. "Look at me. I stole, but I regret what I did. I won't go back and do it again." Daria rolled her eyes. "Oh, please! Corporate CEO's pull down tens of millions every year and provide no better economic leadership than their predecessors 20 years ago who were paid one-tenth as much, even allowing for the difference in the cost of living." "But, Daria," I objected, "entrepreneurship gets paid more than labor because it's rarer." "I can see both of y'all's points," said Princess. "What transgression brought you here, Nylon?" Daria asked. Keyboard, Princess and I exchanged a knowing glance. "I fucked an underage girl," I said. At the moment, Daria was taking a hit. Holding it in, she gave me a long thoughtful look, as Princess took the joint. I calmly looked back at her, thinking, Yes, Daria, this is what a girl who used to be a guy looks like. When she finally let the smoke out, she said, "You're telling me you used to be a guy?" "Yeah." She shook her head. "I'm very weirded-out by this. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this must be for you. When I first heard they were going to turn rapists into women, I thought, yeah, that's cool. Let HIM know what it's like to be afraid of that every day of your life. But for a guy who's only a little bit older than the underage girl, I don't think so. A couple of hundred hours of community service would be appropriate, but this is just too weird." "Your gang's got one," I noted. "Yeah, we call her Street. She thinks she'll be able to refuse a sex change back to male. Reality check, turning back into a guy is a part of the sentence. It's in the state criminal code." "She's also called Shakeelah," I observed. Daria nodded. "That's the one." Princess had just taken a hit and was holding her breath. "When Karen's a guy again," said Keyboard, "he'll have a whole new outlook. That's the point of the sentence. But I do agree with you that it must be pretty horrible for them at the start." "I screamed my head off. It was absolutely the worst shock of my entire life." "How do you feel about it now?" asked Daria. "It feels okay. It helps that my sisters don't bust me about it." "What do you mean, it feels okay?" asked Daria skeptically. "How can you just accept such a complete warping of your identity?" "Let me put it this way, Daria. I'm playing around with this alternate personality for a year. I'll only have to do it for a year. It's sort of a vacation from the old me." "Maybe that will make it easier for you," Daria replied. "Keyboard tells me," she continued, "that you like to exercise your brain doing something besides braiding hair." "That's true. Because of science class, some people call me Atomic Girl." Daria nodded. "Has anyone thrown your books away yet?" "No." "Really? Some girl grabbed my English book and threw it out a second- floor window when I was here only a week. I went and retrieved it, but the binding was broken." Princess was puzzled. "What was you doin' on de second floor?" "Not the dorm. A girls' bathroom window on the second floor of the classroom building," Daria explained. "If I don't get picked on," I said, "it's probably because I'm one of the freak bitches. They think the girls who used to be guys will get crazy on their asses at the slightest provocation." "There's something to that," said Daria. "Mary's Girls don't bother us," said Keyboard, "'cause Angel uses us to do her homework. She wants to show the Juvenile Court she's rehabilitated." ### About an hour later, as we were walking back to the dorm, Daria took me aside and whispered in my ear. "Ever tasted the forbidden fruit yet?" "What forbidden fruit?" She was amused. "You know, the one between other girls' legs." I smiled broadly. "Are you making a play for me, Daria?" "Duh, Karen. Let's just say I find your kind of girl intriguing." I hadn't forgotten she'd come out as a Lesbian to me less than an hour earlier. "I thought I weirded you out." "That's true too. I'm a paradox, although perhaps not so vast a paradox as you. So how about it?" She sounded completely serious. "Well, I did try something with my roommate a few weeks ago, but I didn't let her go below the waist. I was still kind of freaked by my new thing down there." "I'll make a deal with you, Nylon. If you let me explore your Southern Hemisphere, I'll let you do mine." "Let me think about that." I looked ahead of us on the path, and saw Keyboard and Princess entering the dorm. "Okay, I've thought about it. I'm for it. When are you free?" "The rest of today and tonight. Also, I don't have a roommate at the moment. Her sentence has expired." I took her hand in mine and gave it a squeeze. "Fine. Lead me there." When I was Kevin, I had to wheedle and connive, sweet-talk girls and buy them things, and go on lots of dates with them, before they would spread their thighs for me. Now that I was Karen, girls would just walk up and proposition me. I liked to think Kevin's charm was still with me. Another factor was the all-girl atmosphere of Ida-Watts, where casual Lesbian relations were common. And in this particular case, being slightly stoned had broken the ice for both of us. Daria released my hand, and we walked to her first floor room. Nobody gave me any lip this time, because I was now the guest of a First Floor Filly. As we walked down the hall, I reflected more on the differences between my first life and the current one. My balls were gone, but I now had a female sex drive. It was a different vibration, at a lower frequency. My body needed to be touched. Even "down there" it needed me to touch it. Now I was willing to give it a chance. I could afford to take the time to experiment. After all, I would only be a girl for a year. We both knew there was no chance of a long-term relationship. In a sense, I was still living Kevin's way. Daria had put a carpet of red and yellow and orange over the linoleum tiles of her bedroom floor. On that, and not in the bed, was where she suggested we have sex. I enjoyed the feel of the deep-pile carpeting on my bare skin. I already knew a few things about kissing and stroking and licking. She observed that I was very good at it, "especially for a chick who used to be a guy." I told her I already knew how to do this when I was Kevin. In return, Daria taught me some things. When she daintily stimulated Little Karen with her tongue, I was afraid I'd have an attack of penis envy, but it felt very good. The real surprise was when she mounted me like a guy climbing on a chick. "Wait a minute, Daria," I said, laughing. "This is not gonna work, unless you've got a retractable cock hiding in there." She parted my thighs a little more, and whispered, "Just relax and enjoy." She lowered her most girly part onto mine and began to rub with rotating motions, which also felt very pleasant. I had seen this in a porn movie with my brother Steve one weekend when my parents were out of town. Little did I realize what I would be doing less than two years later. I didn't climax. Trey had warned me it takes lots of practice, years of it, for a woman to learn how to have an orgasm. Since I would be a guy again in a few more months, I didn't expect it ever to happen to me. I didn't blame Daria. She was a skilled lover. When we were done, we just lay there for a while on her carpet, chatting. "I don't normally form strong attachments to people, because I know I'll just have my heart broken later," Daria began, "but I want us to start getting together regularly, not just for sex, but the other things too, just to hang out and chat, give each other moral support, and various and sundry other friendly things." "Okay, Daria. I'd like that. Of course you know I'll turn into a guy and leave here next September." "Sure. Since we know this thing has a termination date, we can have ourselves some fun, and not have big huge expectations about it." "And smoke pot?" I ventured to ask. "When I can get some." She ran a few fingers down the length of my body from the left nipple down into my pubes, and stroked the fine hairs down there for a minute. "You like being a girl, Nylon, don't you?" "Yeah. I was horrified at the beginning, but now there's a part of me that likes it." I sighed. "That part of me will be sad to see this body go." "I can tell. You're not like Noodle. I've met her. She doesn't like being a girl. I don't think she's ever sample the customs of Lesbos." "I respect Noodle, because she tries so hard not to let this tear her up inside. I know it does, though. I can see her in the shower, looking down at herself and scowling. I can see the revulsion in her eyes, Daria." "How long is she in for?" "A year. She'll leave a couple of months before me." Daria looked at me closely. "Are you male or female?" Taken aback, I gestured down the length of my body. "Take a look, female," I said, with a laugh. "I'm not talking about anatomy." She looked impatient. "Deep down inside, Nylon, which are you---male or female?" I hesitated. "You actually have to think about this?" Daria asked. "I really don't care, Daria. I could be either. I'm a girl for now, and it's cool. I'll be a guy again next fall, and that'll be cool too." Daria shook her head, smiling. "You're one in a million, Karen." She kissed me on the mouth. Her breath smelled of tobacco and marijuana smoke, but it was still a good kiss. "I mean that in a good way." ### It was a little before midnight on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Having worked my way out of my pajamas, I was touching myself. My left hand was caressing my left breast, and my right hand stroking the length of my body, up to my right breast and down into Little Karen. After a few minutes of this, somebody pounded hard on the door. I heard Squeak's voice. "Nylon! Nylon! Get out here. It's Keyboard! She in trouble!" Keyboard! Alexis was one of my best friends here. I pulled up my pajama bottom, buttoned my top, and scrambled down the ladder. Trey rolled over in her bunk and spoke drowsily. "You go. I'm, like, not much good in a fight." Even half-asleep, Trey could still shoehorn the word "like" into a sentence. I wrapped my robe around myself and ran barefoot into the hall. Squeak ran beside me. Other girls were peering out of their cracked room doors. I could hear shouts and other noises echoing down the hall from the North Wing, where Keyboard's room was. Noodle joined us as we rounded the corner into the North Wing. The rooms on one side were ours. The others belonged to Double-D. This had always been a source of tension. Tonight several girls, maybe eight or ten, were tussling with each other in the hall. They were pulling each other's hair, scratching each other, and ripping at each other's sleepwear. Two were banging another girl's head against the wall. I had no way to tell Mary's Girls from Double-D, so I chose to save Keyboard. Noodle and I dashed into Keyboard's room. The place had been ransacked. Clothes, some of them ripped, littered the floor. The chairs had been overturned and the desk nearing the window had been thrust aside and tipped over. Two girls were standing at the window, apparently holding someone half-way out. "No, no, no! Put me down! Put me down, you bitches!" I recognized the shouting voice. Keyboard's. One of the girls whipped around, a tall blonde white chick. It was Wanda Jean Lassiter. She was fully clothed, including sneakers. She dropped Keyboard's leg and charged right at me. Rolling with her punch, I laid a right uppercut on her jaw. She flew backward against the wall and collapsed on the floor. Meanwhile, Noodle seized the other girl around the waist and pulled her backwards. This dragged Keyboard back into the room. Noodle threw the other girl against a closed closet door, pinned her opponent's neck with her left forearm, and punched her in the guts four or five times, hard. Keyboard pulled herself up to her feet beside the window. She wasn't wearing a stitch. A thin trail of blood was trickling down the front of her body. There was a blur in the corner of my eye. Wanda! I spun to meet her and threw her over me karate-style. Landing on the floor with a thud, she scrambled to her feet and bolted out to the room. The other girl Double-D girl ran after her, stooped and groaning. "Fuck with Keyboard again," I shouted, "and I'll get really crazy on your ass!" "Us freak bitches," Noodle boasted, "we don't fight like girls!" She turned to Keyboard and noticed the blood. "What dey did to you?" "They held me out the window and told me I had to join Double-D, or they'd throw me out." "Keyboard, you're bleeding," I said. "Yeah, when I got pulled back in, I scratched the bottom side of my tit on the sill." "What happened to your clothes?" I asked. "I sleep in the nude." Keyboard snickered. "Now you know." Shivering in the cool November air, she shut the window. Noise from outside told us the fight wasn't over. Noodle was already heading out the door. "Can I help you with that cut?" I asked. "Thanks, but it's only a scratch." Keyboard smiled. "I'll just get me a Band-Aid." She stepped into her bathroom. I ran out into the hall, and found Chief Hunsucker and two other guards separating the fighting girls. Chief Hunsucker looked like she'd thrown on her uniform in two minutes. The other two guards looked like they were on night duty. "Now, you bitches!" Hunsucker shouted. "Who started this fight?" Ten girls started yelling at once. "Shut up!" Hunsucker bellowed. "One at a time." The two sides traded angry claims and counter-claims. The Double-D girls claimed some Mary's Girls in North Wing wanted to switch gangs, but "bullies" (apparently meaning me and Noodle) were leaning on them not to bolt. My sisters didn't let this outrageous lie go unchallenged. They said Double-D was pressuring members of Mary's Girls to change gangs. After a few minutes of hearing this kind of wrangling, the Chief lost her patience. "Okay, okay, that's enough!" she shouted. "Now shut up and listen up!" We all quieted down to hear her decision. "I can't figure out what's really goin' on here, except it's some kind of gang truce violation. So here's what I'm gonna do. The five girls who were in the thick of the fight---Wei, Lauterbach, Jameson, Lassiter, and Wood---are doin' one day of solitary." I've always detested Chief Hunsucker, but I'll give the devil her due. She had an amazing memory for names. "But we didn't start it! We were protecting Keyboard," I protested. "Shut up, Lauterbach, or I'll make it a week." "Chief," Keyboard begged, "please don't send me down there. I was the victim." "I already told you, Miss Wei," said the Chief, "I don't care who started it. I just don't want no more fighting." She turned to the rest of the girls, Double-D's and Mary's Girls alike. "And as for the rest of you crack whores, go back to bed. Tomorrow you tell your leaders to have a sit- down and sort this shit out! You can arrange your turf any way you want. I don't care who's a Mary's Girl. I don't care who's a freakin' Double-D. You bitches can be North Vietnamese Commies for all I care, as long as you settle it. No more fighting. This fuckin' place is supposed to be a school! Shit!" One of the guards was already phoning for backup. Soon we each had our hands handcuffed behind us. The guards led us down to the basement. The Chief didn't let Keyboard put any clothes on. "If it's your modesty you're worried about, Wei," she barked, "I'll make sure no men see you." When we got to the basement, we were stripped and each of us put in a separate cell. There was nothing in my cell but a mattress lying on the floor with a blanket but no sheet, a pillow with no pillowcase, and an empty bucket for obvious bodily functions. A bare bulb in the ceiling was the only light. A guard shut the door behind me and the light was turned out. Lying in the dark with the blanket over me, I wonder what Mom and Dad would think when they heard I was disciplined for fighting. I wasn't just a girl now. I was a gangster girl. TO BE CONTINUED Copyright (c) 2001, by Norman O. Johnson (normanoj @hotmail.com). This file may be freely archived, copied, transmitted, and redistributed, provide that it remains in its original form with all warnings, copyright, author credit, and other info intact. It may NOT be distributed for profit or sold for profit, except by the author, Norman O. Johnson.