Tribulations of a Princess
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Tribulations Of A Transgendered Christian free porn video
This story contains some material that may be considered offensive to the
closed-minded. If you are under 18 years of age, or whatever the legal age
is where you live, you should close this page immediately. The same goes
for all you folks who happen to be offended by transgendered ideas and
references. With that said, to those few of you who remain, enjoy what's
here.
Author's Note: First of all, forgive the writing. This is my very first
attempt. For the most part, this is the story of the transgender portion
of my life, with no real ending. I'm writing this for two reasons: I want
to see what reactions my tale might get among a community of people who
have faced similar situations, and also because I've read enough on this
site that I felt it was my duty to contribute something, insignificant
though it might be.
I would also like to say that I'm motivated in that today is the first day
that I've come to accept the fact that I am what I am (after over fifteen
years of painful confusion).
Tribulations of a Transgendered Christian
I suppose I got my first conscious idea of what was going on way back when
I was three or four years old. I remember being at my aunt's house playing
her Nintendo, (she was babysitting me, as I recall), and I asked her why I
was a boy. She stared at me with a blank expression and wanted to know why
I would ever ask such an odd question. I simply shrugged my shoulders at
this, stating that I wanted to be a girl.
I'm not sure if she ever told anyone about this, though I suspect that my
mother found out. I don't think she thought anything of it, though.
Within that same year, I believe, I also recall having asked my mom if I
could wear a bra just like her when I grew up. I also remember begging and
almost crying when she told me that it was a silly idea and that I would
grow up to be big and strong and grow a beard like my father. Once again,
I believe that she took this as simple curiosity, as she's never shown any
sign of knowing what I was really getting at.
When I first began kindergarten back in 1992, I can remember only one boy
who I befriended. For the most part, I was friends with girls; I simply
seemed to get along with them more easily.
Around this time, my mom got remarried to my stepfather. I remember
playing dress-up with his daughter, who was four years my elder. She would
dress me up as a girl and show me off to the family to see if she did a
good job. I also recall my mother forbidding this game from ever being
played again, and I remember crying about it. This is because I remember
seeing myself in my stepsister's mirror and thinking that I looked the way
I was SUPPOSED to look. It made me feel happy, though I had no idea of the
strife it would cause me later in life. I don't think I even knew it was
something wrong with me, and that's probably why I never told anybody
during my "innocent" years.
Starting in the first greade, I was moved to a Christian school. It was an
exceptionally small school, so most of the other children had already made
friends with each other. I quickly noticed that none of the others would
have much of anything to do with me, save for one boy who was also new
that year. We became friends based on circumstance (looking back, he was
into a vast array of things that could never have interested me) and did
most of everything together throughout the first grade.
This was the start of a series of very good years for me and my "problem".
As the other boys came to accept the two of us as a part of their group
(the girls at that age thought boys were icky), I began to learn how to
act like a boy on the outside, even if I didn't feel like one on the
inside. I still wasn't very good at sports, and I was a bit of a "cry-
baby" and a "scardy-cat", but I was friends with other boys nonetheless.
I still had strange feelings now and then, but for the most part the next
few years went by without my having to question my gender very often.
Looking back, I wish I could have known to enjoy it while it lasted.
As soon as puberty hit, my gender-identity issues swiftly returned. I had
grown used to the fact that I'd rather sit and play nicely or draw a
picture than go play sports with my friends, but I had almost forgotten
about my problems when I was little. Almost.
I developed my first crush (and I can only be grateful that I'm straight
in a physically sexual respect), but the feelings I had for her were odd
indeed. I never worked up the ire to tell her that I liked her that way,
even though we were friendly acquaintences, but I found that I had two
entirely different fantasies. The first was the normal one that I suppose
has been implanted into my mind by society, the one where she and I date
like a normal middle-school couple. The other, though, was a fantasy in
which I WAS her. I had no idea why I would think up such an odd idea, so
I'd try my best to put it off.
As for my never actually asking her out, I've always had a bit of a
problem in that area. I find that while I'm socially outgoing, I'm very
timid when it comes to these things.
By the time I made it to high school, I had moved back into the public
system.
In any case, I noticed while going through puberty two things. First off,
I was straight, as mentioned before. Second, I envied the girls as much as
I liked them. I didn't know why this was, and given my strong religious
upbringing, I was somewhat disgusted with myself for it. I just couldn't
shake the feeling that I should have been sitting with them at lunch
instead of these dolts rambling on about God-knows-what to do with
football or some such nonsense. Don't get me wrong, these guys were my
friends, but I had noticed that on a most basic level I was different from
them. Still, I kept it hidden from them at all times, and I often forgot
myself (it's not like I was thinking about it at every waking moment).
In my junior year of high school, I got reacquainted with a friend from a
few years back when we were in an advanced science class together. She,
having been one of the first people I met since returning to public
schools, asked the teacher to seat the two of us together as lab partners.
Of course, this pleased me, so we spent the year working together on just
about every project.
Then, on my birthday, she gave me a card. Upon opening it, I found the
only "love letter" that I've received in my life thus far, along with a
gratuitous amount of hinting that she would like to go to Junior Prom with
me. Even knowing that she wanted me to ask her, it took me nearly a week
to respond to her, but I did ask her.
This started what was probably the only serious relationship I have ever
been in with a girl. Once again, though, I found my brain plagued by these
despisable ideas that I should be the one in her shoes. When we watched a
movie together and she leaned on my shoulder, I felt jealous that she was
the one who had someone to lean on and irate that I had to be the strong
one. Obviously I never told these things to her, but they were running
through my mind regardless.
By the time my senior year came around, I had begun to hang around more
girls than I did guys. Looking back, I guess I just found that they were
easier to talk to, and that conversation was less painful. I didn't enjoy
all the crude sexual references that were made by the people I used to
group myself with (though I still did talk to them in the halls and in any
classes we shared), and I thought that the girls were much more competant
and rational.
To be honest, I don't think that I was even consciously avoiding the guys
and befriending more girls. Things just kind of turned out that way, and I
happened to like it better.
I finally graduated, and we began preparations for the big party I'd be
throwing next month. I invited just about everyone I hung out with
throughout highschool (which, though I befriended quite a few girls, still
consisted mostly of the guys I knew). What shocked me (and actually kind
of hurt me, to be quite honest) was that only one male friend of mine
actually showed up. Having known him since I was seven years old, I really
did expect him, but otherwise the party was entirely female. To heighten
things, just about every girl I invited showed up! To this day, my mom
(who, like everyone I know, is clueless about my...I really still don't
want to say it...transgenderism) teases me about it.
So fall came, and off to college I went. I was doing as well as could be
expected, until one day, while surfing the 'net late at night I found
something on a google search entirely by coincidence. Looking back, I
don't even remember what it was that I found, but I learned a new word
that night: transgender.
Suddenly, my whole world was blown open! I wasn't the only one who felt
this way...but no! I wasn't going to allow myself to fall into such a
thing. I wasn't gay, after all (though from my lack of girl skills, my mom
did question me more than once, always under the guise of a "joke"). Even
so, I traveled to Wikipedia to see what people had to say about this
subject.
Most of the articles that I found were from an almost scientific
standpoint, and I got the feeling that most people thought of
transgendered folk as homosexuals. There were also arguments from TG
people who felt that this was a wrong classification, and as I did more
research across the web I found that TG people are just as likely to be
gay as non-TG.
I began to google anything I could about TG, and I came across several
people. Being Christian (I still am, though I'm finding it to be a real
challenge now), I first looked up issues relating to the soul. This is
because throughout my life, if ever I am asked how to describe the way
that I feel, my answer would be this: "It feels terrible. I feel as though
I have a female soul trapped within a male body."
Unfortunately, all these revalations came at what was probably the worst
possible time. Due to the massive mental conflict I was going through, my
grades began to slip. In fact, I became so engrossed with what I was
learning that I began to skip classes altogether--a first for me, as I
prided myself on being able to make rational decisions.
I ended up having to come back home to attend a local college, regardless
of my honors or GPA in high school, nor my relatively high SAT. I was
humiliated outwardly by my failures as well as ashamed inwardly of my
gender-identity issues. I resolved to spend the next semester earning my
scholastic honor back.
Unfortunately, I had by this time developed a rather obsessive interest
toward my TG problem, and as a result of cutting off my research, I began
to siphon it to other outlets. One evening during spring break (no, I
didn't go anywhere, what of it?), I came across a website at
http://www.fictionmania.tv. This piqued my fancy to an immense degree,
and I decided that I had found my outlet. I won't say which ones, and I'm
rather ashamed of this, but I began to masturbate to stories and fantasies
of men becoming women--usually by force and against the man's wishes.
My grades did improve, but not nearly to the point that I had been
striving for. I began seeing a psychiatrist about my scholastic problems,
but I have to say that I was dishonest about my gender-identity. In fact,
the subject of transgenderism never even came up. As a result, she proved
to be a good listener, but not really much of a solution to my problems in
school.
I talked it over with my her (and she really did seem to be an individual
who cared, not just another psychiatrist for me to see (I've been to more
than a few in my life, though she is the most recent)) and we decided that
it would be best if I gave myself a break from school and pressure. I got
a job at a department store and did just what the good doctor ordered--
relaxed.
I continued to go to work through the summer, skipping the next semester
just as planned. I spent the entire break curious about my gender-identity
(trying to convince myself that, like a good Christian, I was male and
proud to be it), and then venting my frustrations through masturbation
every few days. Really, I made little to no progress with my
transgenderism. Looking back, I feel that it was nothing more than wasted
time, but at least I got the rest that I felt I needed.
This brings me to yesterday. I hadn't really been getting off very well
lately, even to some of my favorite fantasies. In fact, yesterday, I found
it downright impossible to ejaculate to any kind of transgendered idea. I
couldn't even get a hard-on. At that point, I remembered something: TG was
not a sexual fantasy of mine, I had simply thrown it there and coupled it
with a few things that I DID find kinky.
I ended up going to bed unsatisfied, but refusing ever to get off to a
transgendered story again (though I have resolve to still read and enjoy
the tasteful ones, and perhaps even contribute a few of my own). I spent
the next day at work in a complete mental mess. Ever since I woke up, I
found it hard to think of anything except for my transgenderism. As the
day passed and I went home, I began to surf the Internet, furiously
looking up anything I had forgotten.
It was then, at about 1:00 AM this morning, that I found what I was
looking for: a support site for transgendered people. I read just about
every article on the site, whether they concerned me directly or not. I
read from various authors and people who went through things that I'm
going through. I read about one girl (that's what I believe she'd like to
be referred to as) whose family disowned her completely when she announced
her true identity.
This scared me more than anything else that I read that day, because I
know...no, I can GUARANTEE that this is how my family will react. And
given my upbringing and surroundings, I doubt I will have many friends
left either.
I say "will" and almost want to cry at the word (I am suppressing tears
right now, in fact). To be honest, I didn't even mean to type it--it just
came out, both times, and I just noticed that I typed it. This is because
I know >from what I learned last night that two things are true.
First of all, I am NOT a transvestite, regardless of how I remember
feeling that day with my sister (and I think it says something that I
remember it so vividly). I have realized that I am full-blown
transgendered and that, unless I want to live for the rest of my life with
the intense clashing of emotions that I have felt ceaselessly for the past
two days (though really, it's been all my life), I'm going to have to be
honest someday, and much to my regret, probably soon.
I know how my family will react. My mother's side is prone to "mental
illness". There are inbreeders, alcoholics, druggies, rapists,
homosexuals, and yes, a transvestite (though no TG, much to my
displeasure). Our household has, for these reasons, disowned most of our
family. To put it in my mother's words, "We don't claim them." I know,
without a doubt, that this is how I will be handled. I hope I finish
school first, because I know I'll be tossed out on the street with no
food, friends, or family the instant they get wind of what I've known for
years.
Last night, I learned the reason that I can't communicate with males on
the same level that I can with females, too. From what I've read, during
the 12th-14th week of pregnancy, the mind of the child is set to be either
male or female. It begins female, as all parts of the human do, and during
that time if the child is to be male, a wash of testosterone will come
over the brain, hardwiring it as a male. Apparently, that never happened
to me, so even if I can emulate male thought patterns in a day-to-day
environment, I still get infinitely more "Huh?"s from them than I ever
will females.
I have one more concern before I end this (and I'm sorry if it wasn't what
you were looking for, and I doubt more than one person has actually read
this whole boring rant through). I was raised religious, and I am still
religious. I believe that I will be forgiven for whatever I do, whether I
act on my feelings about this or not.
However, I realized something as I read about the brain last night. If the
transgenderism is really a physical problem, then what is my soul? I
originally thought that I was a female soul in a male body, but what if
I'm a male soul in a male body with a female brain? I hope that this isn't
the case, but logic dictates otherwise.
Does this mean that when I die, I will spend an eternity with a mind that
isn't even my own? Will I die, ascend to heaven, and suddenly be all male?
I don't want that. I want to be what I am on the inside. My only hope is
that the soul and the mind are always equal, and that when I die I'll be
the woman that I deserved to be since birth.
On this note I leave to continue my journey. If you have any feedback at
all, I beg of you to tell me what you think. Aside from some slight
rearrangements in the order of events to make the story tell better, this
is entirely true, and from high-school on, I've told you everything in the
order that it actually happened (and is happening). Any comments are
welcome. If you think I'm just some faggot who won't leave his closet,
tell me, though I won't believe a word of it. I am attracted to women and
women ONLY (probably due to all that testosterone that I didn't ask for).
If you share any sentiments with my or have been in a similar situation
and found a solution that worked, then PLEASE let me know. I need feedback
or I'll go insane. This story is still continuing, and depending on what
choices I make, the ending will be either happy or miserable. I'd like to
say thank you for reading my story. This was by no means a full
autobiography, but I think I've covered every facet of my life as far at
my transgenderism goes.
Thank you. Brittany (aka SkyTil)
Final Author's Note
I'd like to say a few things, just to get them in the open. These things
either didn't fit in the bulk of my...I guess it's more of an essay than
anything else. They either had no place in it, or they were simply
forgotten with the main of the story (I call it a story even though it's
98% true and in order, go figure).
First, I'll address the names in this story. You'll notice that aside from
the signing at the bottom of my page, I didn't use any at all to reference
any people or places. I'm sure you can guess why (hint: it has something
to do with my not wanting to be found!!!). I also don't want anyone that I
know in real life to find this story by seeing their own name or mine.
That way, I can write it off as a crazy coincidence if it IS found.
As for the name Brittany, I think it's pretty obvious that it isn't the
name I was born with. I was named after my grandfather, and it's really a
very masculine name. No, I got the name Brittany almost twelve years ago,
when I managed to con my mother into telling my what she'd have named me
had I been born a girl. She hadn't picked a middle name, but she said that
she really liked the name Brittany and had planned on naming me that (I
apparently was going to be female according to the scans, but my body
changed at the last minute, damn it all). I forgot about it for several
years, but when I discovered that transgendered people often rename
themselves with feminine names, it immediately came to mind, and this is
the first time I've ever used it for anything. I'm very proud to finally
put my real name to use.
Thanks again for paying attention to me and my tale, even if it might be
one you've heard a million times before. And if you'd like to discuss
something with me, I've created an email account specifically for
Brittany:
SkyTil (at) gmail.com
I'm sure you know what to do with the (at).
So long for now!
Becky
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