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The summer of my twelfth birthday started out great, but then nearly all summers do. Unlike a lot of the boys in my class, I had not yet entered puberty, though I was sure that I could see more and more signs of it with each passing day. I had also just learned about the joys of masturbation. It didn't take long, however, for everything to go to hell. The week before my birthday, my best friend, Sam, told me that he was moving in two days. Just like that, with no warning whatsoever. His father had been laid off from work for several months and had finally gotten another job, but he had to start immediately in New York. We had known that it might happen, but had not prepared for it. Then, to make matters worse, on my birthday, my father announced that he was leaving. He handed the divorce papers to my mother, told her to sign them, then left without even saying good-bye. It wasn't so much my father leaving us that really bothered me. It had always been obvious to me that my father didn't like me, evidently because I was not the big, rough-and-tumble, bruiser that he had been when he was a kid. Just the opposite of my father, I was a short and skinny kid. I was nearly twelve years old, and had not even come close to broaching five foot or one hundred pounds. No, my father leaving wasn't really what bothered me since we had never really bonded, what bothered me was what happened later that day. I was finally beginning to grow a little, and my mother had been promising me for a month that she would take me shopping for new clothes for my birthday. Not that I really cared that much for shopping, but I was looking forward to finally replacing the same clothes I had been wearing since third grade. The first time my mother tried to pay for anything though, she discovered that my old man had put a freeze on all of her accounts. For the time being at least, we were broke. Then, when we went home, we found that he hadn't paid the house payment for several months, and we were being evicted. There were also a couple of lawyers there, who informed us that we were to get only our personal things, as everything else in the house, including the car, was the property of Mr. Shelton (my father). If we attempted to take anything else, we would be arrested for theft. (My mother really should have read those divorce papers before she signed them). My mother and I went in and stuffed what we could into a couple of trash bags ("The suitcases are the property of Mr. Shelton"), then went next door to ask Mrs. Wittle for a ride to my grandmothers house. Once my mother had explained everything that had happened, my grandmother of course gave us a place to stay. The only problem was, that my mother moved into her old room, and I was stuck with my aunt's old room, which hadn't been redecorated since my aunt had been about fifteen. I was really hoping that I could get the chance to redecorate soon, but I wasn't holding my breath. Grandma was living on a very fixed income, and mom hadn't held a job since she found out that she was pregnant with me. To say the least, there wasn't much money coming in to support the three of us. That night, I was getting ready for bed, when I realized that we had left some very important things at the house, most importantly at that point, my underwear. The only ones I had were the ones that I had on. My mother told me to go ahead and take a shower, and she would see if she could find something for me. I heard my mother come in and go out while I was showering, so I assumed that she had found something. When I had turned off the water and pulled back the curtain, however, I was horrified by what I found. The underwear she had found for me were satin and pink. PINK!!!! I opened the door and yelled downstairs at her. "Mom, what do you expect me to do with these?" It was quiet for a while before she yelled back at me as she came up the stairs. "Wear them of course." "I can't wear these, they're girl's panties." "Well, that's all there is that will fit you. You're just going to have to make do with Aunt Carla's until we can figure out how to get you something else." "But.... But, they're girl's panties, Mom." "Yeah, well unless you start taking your pants off in public, the only ones who are going to know are you, me, and grandma. Just put them on and go to bed. Then tomorrow, you can call your father and complain to him about it, because there is nothing else I can do." With that, my mother turned around and went back downstairs leaving me with my head and my hand, holding a very pink pair of panties, sticking through the half open door. with what almost amounted to fear, I pulled the panties on, then pulled my shorts quickly over the top of them. I then dashed into my room, and jumped into bed, certain that the entire county already knew that I was wearing panties. The quick dash into my room, however, also brought something to my awareness. Although they were cut about the same as my jockey shorts, the way the panties felt as I moved was very different from the way boy's underwear felt. And, I was forced to admit to myself, they weren't all that unpleasant. When I woke up the next morning, it took me a while to figure out where I was. Then all the events of the previous day came crashing down on me, particularly, PINK. Hoping beyond hope that it had all been a very bad dream, I threw the sheets off and stared down at my self. I was indeed wearing pink panties. What was worse was that I had evidently had a wet dream during the night, because they were stained. That was going to pose some very "interesting" questions. I put my shorts back on and went downstairs to where my mom had grandma were sitting at the kitchen table, scooping through the want ads. "Mom," I asked quietly, afraid of the answer, "can we go to the store today?" "There is no way we can go to the store today, we just don't have the money." "Please, Mom, I just want one package of underwear. I'll work it off anyway you want me to. Please?" "I'm sorry Terry, there's just no way we can do that right now. I'm afraid it's going to get worse, too." "What do you mean worse? How could it get any worse?" "Well, do you remember throwing all of your things in that trash bag?" "Yeah, so, we both did. We had to." "It seems that you picked up the wrong bags when we left. Both of your bags are full of trash." It took a while before that really sank in. "If I just brought two bags of trash, what am I supposed to wear." There was a sinking feeling deep in my gut. Mom refused to look at me. "I'm sure that we can find some of Aunt Carla's old cutoffs and T-shirts that will fit you. She was really quite a tomboy, so it shouldn't be too bad." "So, I'm supposed to wear Aunt Carla's old clothes. What's next a dress maybe?" "It's just until I can find a job and get enough money coming in to get you something else. We'll get you some clothes as soon as possible." "Can't we just go back and get the rest of our stuff from dad?" "I'm sure we could if we could find him. It seems that he left town this morning with his new girlfriend, and nobody knows where he is or when he'll be back. Or even if he's coming back. I talked to his lawyer this morning about that, and he told me that the house had already been emptied, and that everything was sent to Dallas to be put up for auction. So, for right now, all we have are two bags of my clothes, two bags of trash, and your aunt's old dresser. So I suggest that you go find something that isn't too objectionable, and get dressed. You're going to have to help your grandmother in the garden today, because that's where most of our food is going to come from." I didn't buy that tomboy stuff. Aunt Carla had worn pink satin panties and had a frilly pink bedroom. Not the sort of things I would associate with a tomboy. But unless I wanted to run around naked (which I seriously considered), I really didn't have much of a choice. I reluctantly shuffled back upstairs, and began to rifle through Aunt Carla's old drawers. Aunt Carla had run away when she was fifteen, and hadn't come back again until six years later. She had left a lot of her clothes behind, which meant that everything in her drawers was intended to fit a rather short fifteen year old girl back in the sixties. Not only were her clothes very girlish, they were also very old-fashioned. I mean, who wore bell-bottoms anymore? After some time, I found a pair of cutoff Levi's and a tie-dyed T-shirt that was actually pretty cool. I got dressed and went down to help grandma in the garden. When I got downstairs, my mom was getting ready to walk out the door. She was going to take my grandmother's car into town and start filling out applications. "There, I told you you'd find something you could wear. That doesn't look too bad at all." "Yeah, but I hope you find work quick, because the selection is going to run thin really quick." It's sort of misleading to refer to my grandmother's garden as a garden. She lives on a 125-acre plot north of Dallas, and has what is in reality a small farm. The two of us spent a long hard day weeding and picking and everything else. By the time we called it a day around five or so, I was hot, sweaty, and exhausted. When we came in, grandma went to check on dinner, and I went upstairs to take a shower. I spent quite some time searching through "my" drawers trying to find something to wear that wasn't too girlie. My search took longer than it should have because, although I still wasn't too keen on the idea of wearing them, I really liked looking at, and feeling all the silk, satin, and lace panties and bras. The feel of those girl things was almost intoxicating. With great reluctance, I closed the drawer and headed to take my shower. I took with me a pair of brown shorts of some unknown material, and a yellow T-shirt with a design so faded that it was impossible to tell what had been on it. I also took with me a pair of light blue silk and lace panties. They were easily the most girlish panties I had found, but, the way they felt was incredible, and I was really looking forward to finding out how they felt when I wore them. I took a long, cool shower, washing my long, light brown hair twice to get all of the sweat out of it. When I stepped out of the shower, I reached for my clothes, and started to get dressed. My hands were trembling slightly as I pulled on my panties. There is no way I could describe how it felt when I had pulled on those panties. The easiest way to say it would be just to say that I had an instant erection. I was more excited then, than I could ever remember being. I tried to finish getting dressed, but it was too much, I had to release some tension. I sat on the toilet and began to masturbate. It didn't take long before I had a massive orgasm. I was still weak as I got dressed, and, I was still physically excited. I desperately wanted to jerk-off again, but my grandmother was calling me. I had to go. ***************************************************************** ************* Over the next several weeks, there wasn't much change. My mother still had not found any work, though she went and applied for just about everything available. I spent nearly everyday working in the vegetable garden with my grandmother, and everyday I was forced to find clothes to wear from my Aunt Carla's old dresser. After about a week or so, however, it wasn't really much of an issue. I simply woke up each morning and put on whatever I could find. The only reason I was ever reminded that the clothes I was wearing were girl clothes was that wearing them left me with a constant erection. I would catch myself at odd times rubbing myself, enjoying the erotic feel of silk and satin against myself. I was finally able to admit to myself that wearing girls clothes was not only enjoyable, but also rather thrilling. I don't think that I ever really thought about what I was doing when I began to wear nightgowns to bed. In almost no time, I had gone from self-pity and temper-tantrums over my situation to accepting it as almost natural. I even stopped spending inordinate amounts of time worrying about weather the outer clothes I was wearing were as gender-neutral as I could find. In fact, after three weeks or so, most of the clothes I was wearing were undeniably cut and designed for girls. I didn't know what was going on, nor did it ever really occur to me that there was anything unusual happening. Everything began to come into focus, and clarify itself about six weeks after we had moved in. I woke up early one morning and, after using the bathroom, went to my dresser to find something to wear for the day. It was Sunday, the day we didn't work in the garden, and I was getting tired of wearing grubby clothes every day. Not thinking about anything other than finding something sort of nice to wear for a change, I found a nice skirt and a blouse to wear. When I went downstairs, my mother looked at me sort of strange, but said nothing as she helped finish getting breakfast ready. When we sat down for our usual big Sunday morning breakfast, mom looked at me and said, "Terry, I think it's time that we had a talk." Having just shoved a large bite of sausage in my mouth, I merely grunted and nodded my head to show that I was listening. "I take it that wearing your Aunt Carla's clothes doesn't bother you anymore?" After swallowing my food, I answered, "No, I guess it's not really all that big a deal. It probably will be once school starts though." "Well that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have some ideas that I want you to really think about before you give me an answer. I don't want you to say anything until I get everything out that I need to say. I finally managed to find a job yesterday, and once I start getting paid, in about three weeks, we can start thinking about buying you some new clothes. The problem is, that the job doesn't really pay very well, and there are still quite a few bills that we have to catch up on, so I won't be able to get you very much, if there's anything left to buy clothes with. I can pretty much guarantee that we won't be getting any help from your father either. It turns out that he got arrested for embezzlement a couple of weeks ago, and is looking at a minimum of fifteen years in prison. Finally, I just don't think that it's going to work very well having a teenage boy around here, without a father to sort of guide you through the hardships of growing into a man. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what we could do, and I've come up with a couple of options. Whichever way we go, however, I think needs to be your decision." My mind was racing as I listened to my mother talk. My mother finally found a job, so I might actually be able to get some new clothes, but we did still have quite a few bills that my father had dumped on us, so I might get maybe, what, one set of clothes? There is no way I would be able to make it through the first week of school that way. I wasn't really very surprised to hear that my father had been arrested, and I was thinking that he really deserved it after the way he had treated mom and me. What was this about not wanting me around? Was she telling me that she was going to put me in foster care. I desperately wanted to beg her not to leave me like dad did, but I had agreed to not say anything until she was finished, so I sat there hoping that I had misunderstood what she had said. What sort of options did she have in mind, I was really hoping that she would explain these, and she did. "The first option would be for you to go and live with one of your other relatives. Your Aunt Carla and Uncle Robert would be more than happy to have you come and stay with them, but I don't see how either of us could afford to send you up to Chicago. I'm sure, though, we could do it if we really had to. I also talked to your Uncle Jim. He said that he could take you in, but he wasn't really very happy about it. He also said that if you went to stay with him that you would have to toughen up some. You know how he is, he's just like your father when it comes to football. He's just like your father in a lot of other ways as well, and I would prefer that you didn't go there, but then again, it's your choice. A second option would be to have you placed in foster care. The biggest problem with that is that once your in the system, it would be damn near impossible to get you back out again, plus I don't have any idea how long it would take before you could come home. These first two options would be the easiest all the way around, however uncomfortable they may make all of us. The third option would require the most effort from all of us, but I think we'd all be happier with it in the end." Living with Aunt Carla wouldn't have been too bad, she is pretty cool after all, but who would want to go live in Chicago. I'll take the Texas heat over the Chicago winds any day. Besides, the trip up could run into serious money. There's no way that I would ever go and live with Uncle Jim. The man's a maniac, and he really, really doesn't like me. I'd be surprised if the man even remembered my name. I just knew that she was going to bring up foster care. As bad as the idea sounds, however, it's a whole lot better than the first two choices. I don't think I cared much for the way she sounded when she was talking about the third choice either. "The third option would be for you to just stay here, and continue to wear your Aunt Carla's old clothes for a while. If we were to do that, it would mean that we would have to enrol you in school as a girl. For all intents and purposes, you would have to be a girl. That might not sound like it would be too hard, but it would require that we make some changes that would be very hard to undo later. If we start that, it's more than likely that you'll never be able to go back to being a boy. I know that if you were to make your decision right now, that you'd most likely reject this out of hand, but I really think that this is our best option. It's still your decision, but I'm going to do everything I can to sell you on this. Over the past several weeks, I've watched you change, and I like what I've seen. I want you to stay, and I don't know any other way to make this work. Now, I want you to think really hard about all this. I want you to take your time and think about everything involved, but I need you to make your decision this week, so that whatever it is, we have time to make all the arrangements before school starts. You'll have my full support whatever you decide." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She wanted me to become a girl. I couldn't become a girl, there was just no way. Then again, aside from the more obvious physical differences, would it really be that hard? But, I didn't want to be a girl. I was happy the way I was. Of course, looking at me and the way I was dressed, it would have been hard to tell I was a boy anyway. Being honest with myself, I had to admit that I sort of liked wearing girl's clothes. I knew that it wouldn't be easy to give them up just so that I could continue to be a boy. What sort of changes was she talking about? What sort of changes could be so life altering that they couldn't be reversed later? I wasn't too interested in leaving either. Mom and grandma were the only things I had left, and leaving them would be very, very hard. What could I do? As bizarre as it seemed, life had been a lot simpler recently. I had one week to decide whether I wanted to leave what was left of my family, or become a girl, which mom made sound as though it was an almost permanent decision. I had a lot of questions, but only one that just had to be asked right away. I swallowed my last bite of breakfast and jumped in, "What kind of changes were you talking about if I stay? I don't understand what you meant by that." "Well, there's a lot involved and I don't know that we should go into all of it right now. Some of the changes would be rather simple, things like teaching you how to fix your hair and make-up and things like that. Other things would be a bit more involved. Let's just say that there are things we could do that would make it very hard to tell that you were ever anything but a girl. We could go into all that more later, if you think that you might want to go that way." I didn't know what to say or do. I was overwhelmed. I looked at my grandmother, who hadn't said anything during the entire meal. What did she think about all of this? Suddenly, she reached over and patted me on the shoulder. "You look just like your mother when she was your age." Obviously the idea didn't disturb her any. Unsure of what to do, I excused myself from the table and went outside for a walk. Along the north edge of the garden, was a grove of trees which had always been my favorite place to go. On that day I walked toward the trees with a determined purpose. I had to think. I had to get away and really consider everything my mother had just laid on me. She hadn't really given me much of a choice. There was no way I was going to willingly put myself in foster care. I couldn't say that going to live with either Aunt Carla or Uncle Jim was much better. The only things I had left in this world was my mother and grandmother. My father had already taken nearly everything I had, there was no way I was going to give up what little I had left. Was I willing to become a girl just to stay though? I was a boy, and that was something that couldn't be changed, could it? Even as I thought that though, I looked down and saw the way I was dressed. I may have been a boy physically, but I was dressed in a skirt and blouse, and a pair of white satin bikini panties. More to the point though, I liked being dressed this way. No one had made me put these clothes on, I had done so on my own, knowing full well that this wasn't the way boys dressed. Even if I had boys clothes, would I really want to wear them? I sat down on the banks of a small stream and soaked my feet in the cool water. I knew that this was where I was going to stay. I knew that I was going to continue to wear girls' clothes, even if I did end up going somewhere else, so what would be the point of going anywhere. Still, I didn't understand what sort of changes my mother was talking about. I couldn't see how learning to fix my hair and put on makeup were going to change me in some way that would be so hard to reverse. My mother obviously had other changes in mind, changes that she wasn't eager to talk about. Then I began to think about other changes that had occurred in my life over the past summer. I suppose that I had always been something of a mama's boy, but there are just some things that a twelve-year-old boy just can't talk about with his mother. Recently, though, we had grown even closer, and we talked about nearly everything. Only a few nights before, I had sat down and watched an old movie with my mother that I certainly would never have watched three months ago. I spent hours just sitting out there by that creek, thinking about what was happening to me. Slowly, I began to realize that I wasn't doing anything I wouldn't have enjoyed doing before. The difference was that I had always surprised these things in the past because they didn't fit in with what I thought was normal for a boy. Now that I was out here in the country, separated from my friends and all the things that I associated with being a boy, I didn't feel the need to bury them any more. I also felt so much more free to explore new things that I would never have thought to be tough enough before. How much more could I find out about myself without the pressures of maintaining some silly image. Then I thought about boys. Girls were supposed to like boys in ways that other boys weren't supposed to. Girls were supposed to like kissing boys. Could I possibly bring myself to do anything like that. Regardless of the changes my mother was talking about, I was a boy, and I couldn't see any way of changing that reality. I just couldn't see how I could possibly bring myself to kiss another boy. Even as I thought about these things, however, the idea of kissing boys was doing strange things to me. My thing was beginning to stiffen, as I got a mental image of me with make-up and a dress on kissing a boy. Yeah, I could do that. I wanted to do that. I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't know what to make of the changes I had already gone through, let alone those I had still to face. As I stood and walked back to the house, however, I knew what I wanted to do. I had told my mom that I would hold off on telling her my decision until Friday, but the decision was made. All I had to do was find out more about these changes she was talking about. Over the course of the next week, I began to find out more about what my mother had in mind. It turned out that my mother's new job was working as a cashier at a pharmacy that was run by an old friend of hers. After finding out the details of what are situation was, and what it was that she had in mind for me, her friend agreed to help her get me started on a hormone treatment program. She had even helped my mother find a doctor who would administer the treatment, and monitor my progress. Along with a careful exercise program, my mom assured me that the hormones would give me a more girlish build, including breasts. Later, if I wasn't satisfied with the results of the hormones, I could get breast implants. Once a got most of the information, I nearly changed my mind. I mean, yeah, being a girl would be great for now, but my mom was right. Once I started growing breasts, it would be nearly impossible to go back to being a boy. Was I certain that I wanted to do this forever? Every time I thought about changing my mind, however, the less the idea appealed to me. By the time Friday came, I was ready to forever put behind me any trace of boyhood. On Friday morning, I got up, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. I walked into the kitchen with the last of my boy clothes in a small paper sack and handed them to my mother. "You can get rid of these, I'm not going to need them anymore." When my mother looked in the bag and saw what was in it, I saw tears start to form in her eyes. She grabbed me a pulled me into a fierce hug. "Oh, thank you sweetheart. I can't tell you how happy you've just made me. Everything is going to be just fine now. I promise." After a long time, my mother finally released me, and wiped the tears from her eyes. As I walked around the table to my chair, my grandmother also grabbed me and gave me a hug, though not as tight as my mother's. "You're a very pretty girl, and I know that you're going to grow into a very fine woman. Us three girls are going to get along just fine." My mother had taken the day off so that she could help me get things started with whichever decision I made. After breakfast, my mother helped me put on my make-up and fix my hair. When we were finished, I looked in the mirror and saw that all traces of the boy that I used to be were completely gone. The face which looked back at me from the mirror was that of a young girl. I was happier than I had ever been. Once I was ready, the three of us got into the car, and drove into town for my ten o'clock appointment with Dr. Smith. After the doctor examined me, my mother and I both had to sign a form saying that we understood what the results of my hormone treatment would be, and that I was undergoing treatment with full knowledge and consent. Once the paperwork was all signed, the doctor gave me a shot and a prescription, and told me that I would have to keep up with the treatment for the rest of my life. I didn't care. There was no going back now. After we left the doctor's, we had to go downtown and fill out a bunch of papers for the government. When you get right down to it, he filled out the same form fifteen different time, in fifteen different places, for fifteen different people, all of whom seemed shocked and appalled that I would be doing anything like this, and more so that my mom was going to let me. But it didn't matter. I was doing what I knew was the right thing for me, and my mom not only supported me, she was obviously proud of what I was doing. By the time I returned home that night, I didn't have any more than I did when the day began, but my life was now much more complete. I was no longer Terry Smith, a short, scrawny boy. Now I was officially Sherri Watson, and the world had better look out.