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Dougie By: Peay Chapter One The game was scoreless till the eighth inning. It was a great pitching duel, backed by excellent fielding. They had Roberts on the mound and he was pitching his usual brilliant game. He would be a pro one day, and already had his scholarship locked up to the University of Oklahoma. Johnson was our pitcher, and he was in the zone. Me, I'm Doug the batboy, and this was the game that would change my life. In the eighth inning, after two quick outs, they substituted in someone we had never seen play. "Batting for Meyers will be John Bradley," the announcer said. As Bradley stepped out of their dugout, I couldn't understand why they put him in. He was huge, slow, and clumsy. Johnson had been working the corners all game and this looked like an easy out. The first pitch was a fast ball that just nicked the far outside corner at the knees. "Strike one," said the ump. Bradley just turned slowly, looked at the ump for a couple of seconds, then nodded his head once and turned back to the pitcher. The second pitch looked like a duplicate of the first, but what a different result. Bradley swung the bat with a huge roundhouse swing that looked familiar somehow. The bat hit the ball with that distinctive crack that signals a perfect hit, and he started lumbering down the base path to first. The ball cleared the centerfield fence by a country mile, a home run. As he slowly rounded third I realized where I had seen that swing before. Babe Ruth had swung the bat the same way. Johnson quickly disposed of their next batter, but the damage was done. We were down one run, and had six outs to do something about it. Roberts struck out our first batter and caused the second batter to ground out, but our third batter actually got a weak single to right-center field. Our fourth batter that inning flied out, but coach told everyone to hold them, it looked like Roberts was tiring. Three up, three down was the chant, and Johnson made it a reality. Our fifth, sixth and seventh batters were up this inning, and coach told them to make the best of it. Bill Parker stepped up to the plate, and hit a Texas-leaguer for a single. Davis came next, and he laid a near perfect sacrifice bunt down the first base line. He was out, but had moved Bill to second base. Big Swede came to the plate and swung for the fences. Pop-up! Now we had two outs and a runner on second. Johnson came up to bat. On the second pitch, Johnson hit the ball down the first base line, just over the outstretched glove of their first baseman. Bill was being sent home, that was obvious; and then I saw Johnson's bat lying in the base path. I ran out to get the bat, and just as I grabbed it, I felt a collision as Bill ran into me. Their catcher caught the ball and tagged Bill out, two feet from home plate. The game was over, and I had caused the loss. Our side was stunned, and our perfect record was smashed. Coach was furious and kicked me off the team. He personally escorted me to the locker room and confiscated my uniform, then told me to get the Hell out of there and shower at home. I was still in shock. I wandered out toward the parking lot and sat down under a tree, trying to grasp what had happened. Big mistake. As the team came out of the locker room, several of them saw me there. Led by Bill Parker, they beat the crap out of me. I found out later that Big Swede finally pulled them off of me, before they killed me. With Big Swede standing over me, the others left me alone. He wouldn't leave me, so it was a while before he got someone to call for an ambulance. I didn't know about this till later, I didn't wake up till I was in the ER. Other than a moderate concussion, the only thing wrong with me was a bunch of bruises. They decided to keep me in the hospital overnight, to make sure the concussion wasn't more serious than it appeared. When my father came into the room, I knew I was in trouble. He was the ultimate macho man. He had been a three-letter man all through high school, and only a knee injury had kept him from the pros. I honestly believe that he wasn't trying to relive his glory days through me; it's just that the only behavior he understood for a boy was that of a macho jock. I am small and skinny, and always have been. I've never been good at sports, and didn't like most of them - baseball being the exception. He had tried everything he could to make me a man, but I was a total failure. "What happened?" "A bunch of the guys beat me up." "Why?" I hesitated as long as I could, but my father's piercing glare caused me to crack. "I cost us the game today. Coach kicked me off the team and several of the players jumped me." My father looked confused, and then he said, "You're the batboy for God's sake. How could you possibly lose the game for the team?" I told him the sorry tale, and watched as his face grew harder and harder. When I was done, he just stood up and left the room. I overheard him talking with a police officer just outside the room. He said, "No officer, we won't be filling any charges. Boys will be boys and he really isn't hurt." I was crushed. A bunch of kids beat me till I'm unconscious and put me in the hospital, and it's not important enough for him to file charges. The next day Mom picked me up from the hospital and took me home. My face was covered with blue and purple blotches, some of them so dark they were almost black. I had some wicked bruises on my arms, but nothing else showed up as long as I wore my normal tee shirt and jeans. I was supposed to take it easy, because of the concussion, and not go back to school until Monday. My sister Debbie came to see me as soon as she got home from 8th grade. Although she was two years younger than I am, she was taller, heavier, and stronger. She was the apple of Dad's eye; always winning the competition for his affection. "Hi big brother... I think. Is that really you under all those bruises?" "Yeah, it's me." "You really pissed those guys off. Why did you hang around so they could do that to you? That was really stupid. The coach gave you a head start. If you had gone straight home like he told you, they wouldn't have beaten you up. The next day they wouldn't have been so mad." "I don't know why. I was in shock over what had happened and wasn't thinking." "Well, you should be OK for school on Monday. Dad didn't press any charges, so you didn't hurt the team. The word I'm getting through Penny from her brother Matt is that most of your attackers are really ashamed at what they did. Eight against one and you're smaller than any of them. Big Swede, the one who saved your life, quit the team rather than play with a bunch of animals. That got everyone talking let me tell you. There is some sort of punishment being planned, but they hadn't said what it would be the last time Penny talked to Matt. She said she would call as soon as she heard anything, and I'll pass it on to you." "Thanks Debbie. I really appreciate it. I wouldn't even know about no charges being filed, except for the fact that I overheard Dad talking to the cops about it." Debbie looked at me for a minute, and then said, "Dougie, I've never seen Dad like this before. He didn't say two words from the time he came home last night till I went to bed. He has already punched a huge hole in his study wall, and he makes a lot of noise when he goes out to the garage, banging stuff around. I'd avoid him as much as possible for a while if I were you, like maybe until you graduate." The phone rang and Debbie went out to get it. She came back about 20 minutes later. "That was Penny. Matt told her that the eight guys that jumped you were all thrown off the baseball team, and Big Swede is back on it. They may not even be able to field a team for the rest of the season, because they only had 16 players to start with. The school board got ahold of it and there is talk of expelling them, banning them from all school activities as long as they are here and keeping the seniors from graduating with the rest of their class." "Well, that's it. If Dad doesn't kill me, the guys will. I might as well drop out of school right now." Debbie shook her head and said, "You can't. You have to be sixteen to drop out of school, and that won't happen till after school lets out for the year. You know that. Don't worry, I'm sure you will survive the last month of school, and then you'll have the summer for the rest of them to forget." "Not if the principal bans the returning kids from all school activities. I'm dead meat." Mom came in to drop off the homework she had gone to school to get for me. She ran Debbie out of my room so she could do her homework and I started mine. It was easy, like always, and I finished it in next to no time. Debbie came in with a math question and I showed her what she had been doing wrong. She smiled and thanked me, then left to finish. We generally got along just fine when Dad wasn't around. Dad called and said he was working late. We had a quiet dinner at home, and watched TV until it was time to go to bed. I woke up when Dad finally got home, and heard him tell Mom that he hadn't worked late. He didn't trust himself around me, and had waited to come home until he knew he wouldn't have to see me. I didn't sleep well that night. Debbie came straight to my room as soon as she got home. What she said sent shivers down my spine. "The school board intervened; they took the decision about what will happen to the guys that beat you up away from the principal. All eight of them have been pulled from their classes and are in a special studyhall all day long. They don't even get to eat lunch with the other kids." "Oh my God. They and their parents must hate me." "From what Matt says, they are ashamed of what they did to you, except for Bill Parker. He blames you for everything and tells everyone that this is all your fault." "Just great. If the school board hears that, they'll throw the book at him and I won't have a chance in Hell when I go back to school." Just then the phone rang and Debbie ran to get it. She came back a little later, saying "That was Penny. The school board is meeting this Friday to discuss the situation, and it will be an open meeting, anyone can attend. The eight kids have all been banned from going to either Prom, since the Junior Prom is this weekend. Rumor has it that Bill made a death threat against you and was told by a teacher to keep his mouth shut if he didn't want to be expelled." "Did the rumor mention what teacher signed my death warrant?" "What do you mean?" I said, "If that is what he said, he effectively told Bill to keep his plans to himself until I returned to school and he could act on them." "Penny didn't say, but I'll ask her. I wouldn't worry though; you know how rumors twist the facts, just to make the story sound better." She left to finish her homework so she could go over to Penny's house. Dad didn't show up for dinner again. After Debbie came home, she told me that all Matt had heard was "a teacher". We went to the living room to watch TV, and the local news was on. They talked about the incident! They didn't name names, but they talked about the brutal savages at our school that had tried to beat the team's batboy to death because he made a mistake. The only thing that redeemed the team was the one brave young man who kept the monsters from killing the poor little boy. I got up and went back to my room. All I could see was my life coming to an end on Monday. I didn't sleep well that night either. The next day was Friday, and the noon news talked about the school board meeting being held that evening. They said that they would cover it live, so that the community could see how the board dealt with the savages amongst us. They mentioned Columbine and the general rise of school violence across America. They said that it was time to draw the line, before things got out of hand here and someone was killed. Debbie came home and told me that stories were all over her school and that Matt had told Penny that things were really getting tense. We talked about the situation for a few minutes, and then Debbie asked me if I was going to the meeting. Before I could say a word, Dad spoke from the doorway. "No one from this family will be there. Is that clear?" We were stunned. Dad never gets home this early and we hadn't heard him come in. We both nodded our heads and he abruptly left. Debbie was shaken. Dad had never used that tone of voice on her before. She quickly left my room to do her homework so she could go out. Debbie ate over at Penny's house that evening, and would come back late. I was sent to my room right after I did the dishes and was told to stay there until Dad said I could come out. It was plain that he didn't want me to see the school board meeting, but I left the door open and could hear most of it from my room. It was horrible. A local preacher spoke about how our community had been peaceful before this, and how this was "the crack in the door". Several people asked why the kids weren't in jail, and finally the Sheriff stood up and explained that my father refused to press charges. The way he said it made it sound like my father feared for my life if they had been arrested. Most of the people there wanted the little monsters thrown in jail or expelled, preferably both. One parent even asked if they could be expelled from the entire school district! It took over three hours for everyone to speak their piece. The board conferred for a few minutes, and then pointedly asked their attorney if the could bring charges against the students themselves, since the act had occurred on school property. He told them that he would feel more comfortable about that after talking with the prosecutor's office, so they deferred that till later. Then they pronounced sentence. Until they heard back from the prosecutor's office, all eight students were to remain in segregated study hall. They would not participate in any school activities. Their parents were told that they could expect their children to be expelled, and that the seniors would not be allowed to graduate with their class. I shut my door and went to bed, where my lack of sleep caught up to me and I fell right to sleep. I would have traded another sleepless night for the nightmares I had. I saw myself die that night, under the fists of Bill Parker. Not just once, but time after time. My bed was soaking wet when I got up that morning. After I showered, I stripped the bed and left the mattress to air out. I went into the kitchen to eat breakfast with the family, like we always did on the weekend. As I poured my cereal into my bowl, Debbie said, "Yuck! You've added yellow and green to your facial colors. You're going to need to wear makeup just to go back to school." Dad stood up and looked like he was going to explode, then he stopped and got a strange look on his face. He just stood there and looked at me for a few seconds, then said, "That's a good idea Debbie." He turned to me and said, "You are an absolute failure as a boy. From now on I have no son, you are my oldest daughter. We will call you Emily." My mouth opened before my brain could stop it. "No Dad! I'm a boy!" He backhanded me with almost casual strength, lifting me from my seat and slamming me against the refrigerator. "No back talk Emily!" He turned to mother and said, "Take her back to her room and get her measurements. Then I want you to take Debbie along and go shopping for our eldest daughter. Get her whatever she needs so she can go back to school on Monday, looking her best. After you get her enough stuff to get by, come back here and get her dressed, then take her to get her hair done and shop for the rest of what she needs." I don't know what else he might have said, because I was dizzy from hitting my head against the refrigerator and I threw up all over myself. Mom cleaned me up and helped me to my room. I had vertigo, probably from the blow to my head aggravating my concussion, and the world spun around me. I was in no shape to do or say anything, so I just lay there with my eyes shut after she left. By the time that Mom and Debbie came back, I was almost feeling normal. Mom came in and told me to strip. I was numb, so I just did what she said. She slathered Nair all over my body, and then took me to shower it off after what seemed like forever. She told me to wash my hair while I was in there, and to use Debbie's conditioner. By the time I came out, I was squeaky clean. She took me back to her room and tossed me a pair of panties. I pulled them on then turned around. She told me to do something about my front, so I tucked it back between the legs. Then she pulled out a couple of pink wiggly things, which I figured out were fake breasts. "We'll start you with an 'A' cup," as she glued them to my chest. Next she had me wear what she called a padded panty brief and then she showed me how to put on a bra. She sat me down and started to work on my hair. She put it up on rollers and then squeezed on some kind of gel. She put a hood over my head and turned on the portable dryer I had seen her and Debbie use before. Then she started working on my nails. Once she got them cleaned up, she painted them pink. She did my toes as well. After two coats of the polish, she put a clear coat on them, and then plucked my eyebrows while she waited for them to dry. That hurt, but it wasn't enough to pull me out of my daze. She turned off the dryer and took off the hood. She brushed my hair out, trimmed it a bit, then told me that she had given me a simple pageboy, and that it would be easy for me to take care of. She then did my makeup. It took a lot to cover all the bruises. She had me put on a pair of low white heels, slipped a yellow dress over my head and zipped me up. Then she walked me to her full-length mirror so I could see myself for the first time. I was amazed. I almost looked to see where the girl was in the mirror, and then I realized it was me. I was actually pretty. I hated it. With tears in my eye, I turned to Mom and said, "I don't care what I look like. I'm a boy. Why are you doing this to me?" "Your father said that things will be this way and that's the way they will be. I could have made you look like a clown, but your only chance of surviving this is to become a girl so well that you will be accepted as such. Anything less than that will probably get you killed. Do you understand me Emily Ann?" When I heard her give me the middle name, I knew that I had lost. She took me out for the rest of the family to see. Debbie's eyes grew wide as she sucked in her breath. Dad just looked me over and then thanked Mom for a good job. Mom collected Debbie and I and took us to her hair salon. Mom pointed at me and said I needed the works. They washed my hair, again. They cut it, rolled it up and put on smelly chemicals. I was put under the hair dryer and a girl came over and redid my nails. When she was done, they stuck out about a quarter of an inch beyond my fingers, and were painted a darker pink. She was done with me just in time for me to go back to my chair and get my hair styled. The lady fussed with it for a few minutes, then took me into the back where an older lady did my makeup. Unlike my mother, she carefully explained what she was doing, so that I could do it myself. She whispered to me that she had a cousin just like me, and that I might want to check out the Internet on the subject. When they showed me myself in the mirror I was stunned at how good I looked. My mind had been overloaded since my father had hit me and I almost passed out. Mom and Debbie helped me to the car. We set off for the mall. First we hit Value Square for day to day stuff, like cotton panties and bras. Next stop was a dance store, where they picked up some leotards and a pair of dance shoes for me. The lady's eyebrows went into orbit when Mom asked for some flesh-colored gaffs in my size. I didn't know what they were, till they took me in the back and had me try one on. I was told to leave it on and Mom bought three more. The rest of the day was a blur. I tried on hundreds of outfits and dozens of shoes in stores up and down the mall. We went out to the car at least twice to drop off packages. By the time we left, I was exhausted and my feet hurt from walking in heels. We stopped off at the local diner and ate a meal before we went home, so we didn't get back until after 10 o'clock. Dad had been busy. My room had been gutted and all my things were gone. In their place were pink walls, white lacy curtains and a girl's bedroom set in white. There was even a canopy bed with very feminine bedcovers and matching canopy. Mom said, "This is very nice dear. How in the world did you get all this done?" "I rented a truck, loaded it with everything that was in this room and took it to the dump. Then I slapped a quick coat of paint on and went to that store that specializes in kid's furniture. I found a saleslady and told her that I wanted the most feminine bedroom set they had for my daughter's 16th birthday. She picked everything out, I paid extra to get it delivered today, and then I came home to finish painting. They arrived with the furniture shortly after I had gotten everything cleaned up, and the girl that came with the movers even made the bed for me. I'll get out of your way so that you and Emily can put everything away." I just stood there, staring at the new room. Everything was gone. All my stuff had been thrown away. My life had been taken from me, as if I had never existed. I finally came out of it and put my new clothes away. As I was getting ready for bed, I heard Mom and Dad talking. Dad wanted to know if I had anything to wear to church tomorrow. Mom told him that I wouldn't be going to church tomorrow; she would need all day to get me ready for school on Monday. Mom never contradicted Dad on anything, but he accepted her decision on this. Mom came in and woke me just after the sun had come up. She made me do everything to get ready, and then had me take it off and do it again twice. "You need to be able to do this for yourself every morning. I can't keep doing it for you." When it was lessons about how to walk, gesture, sit and talk like a girl. She talked about all the things I had to know, like feminine hygiene, even if I didn't have to do it myself. I would need to know about this because girls talk about it. She talked to me about boys and how to say no. I didn't need to know how to say anything else! She showed me the basics about cooking, cleaning and sewing, all the while having me walk and sit and get up and move gracefully. By the time that Dad and Debbie got back from church, I was exhausted. We had lunch together, but nobody said anything. Dad said he was going fishing, and when Debbie asked to go along, Mom told her she needed her here this afternoon. Mom used Debbie to help me move and act more like the teenage girl I looked like now. We practiced all afternoon. Debbie really started to get into it and even taught me how to fast dance like a girl. They had me help prepare dinner, then Dad came home and we ate. Right after dinner, Dad went out to the garage. We cleaned up after dinner, and then it was practice, practice, and more practice. By the end of the evening, they both told me I was finally getting it. Mom even said, "If you can remember to do everything we taught you over the weekend, you should be fine tomorrow." It seemed to take me forever to get ready in the morning. Finally I came out of my room and found my father waiting for me. "It's about time. Get your stuff; you don't have time for breakfast." We went outside and he told me to get in the car. He drove me to the school and brought me inside to the principal's office. As soon as we were let in, Dad started talking. "Here is the paperwork to change her name from Douglas Martin to Emily Ann. Here is the paperwork indicating that this is the beginning of the one-year test to ensure that the decision to become female is the correct one. Here are some pertinent cases discussing what you are and are not required to do under these circumstances. I think that PE would be a waste with less than a month to go in the school year and would recommend a study hall be substituted, but that is your call. Are there any questions? If not, I'm already late for work." The principal looked stunned. He finally assured my father that everything would be taken care of. He looked at the thick file on his desk, and then told me to go to class while he figured this all out. Then he stopped me, scribbled something on a piece of paper, then told me to show that to each of my teachers as soon as I saw them, and to come back to see him at lunch. I walked to my locker and put everything away, then got out what I needed for my first class. I was still in shock. How could my father do this to me? I may not be what he wanted in a son, but I'm still a boy. I saw the paperwork he left with the principal and it all looked very official. Apparently, I didn't have any say in what was happening to me. This is so wrong! I got to my first class, 5 minutes early. I went in and showed to note to my teacher. She read the note, gasped and looked at me really closely while the color drained from her face. She took out her grade book and handed me back the note. She told me to sit down and started writing in the book. I went to my seat and sat down. As the class filtered in, I got some looks, but no one questioned me or why I was there. After the bell rang, Mrs. Lincoln stood up and addressed the class. "This is Emily Ann Abbott. She is taking the place of Douglas Martin Abbott." She just stood there for a few seconds, and then with a shake of her head, began teaching the lesson. I actually paid attention to the lesson, since I had been out for several days. I assure you, I was the only one in the class that did so. After the bell rang to end the class, Mrs. Lincoln asked me to come to her desk. After the rest of the kids filed out, she told me that she had thought this might be what my problem was, and offered to help me any way she could. I went into shock again. She thought I really needed to be a girl. I walked to my next class in a daze, with whispering and pointing going on all around me. The rest of the morning was like that. The teacher would be shocked, then supportive. The kids treated me like I was toxic. The whispers became louder. I became even more depressed. I showed up at the principal's office at lunchtime. He told me that he was following my father's suggestion about PE, and that I would have study hall instead. He took me to the office, where they took my picture and gave me a new student ID. Then he told me to go eat my lunch. I hadn't said a word all day, and I wasn't going to change that now. My stomach was all tied up in knots, so I skipped lunch and went into the library. I sat down with my books and pretended to study, but my mind was not on Algebra II. Two of my teachers had told me that they had expected this, or thought that this might be my problem. The principal just accepted it without question. My Father said it would be so and made it happen. Nobody even asked me about it. My masculinity wasn't even worth a question. Instead of being in shock, I was just numb. I was worthless. My body went to the rest of my classes, but my mind wasn't there. By the end of the day, I was in a fog. I went to the library after my last class. I didn't want to see anyone; heck, I didn't even want to think. After about 45 minutes, Bill Parker came in, looked around and then came right over to me. "So, it's true. You're nothing but a little fairy. Well, you owe me big time, and I know just what you can do to pay me back. I used to love it when my girlfriend went down on me. She dumped me because of this, so you can take her place, for that anyway. I'm sure I can think of other things, you little bitch, but that will do for starters." He had gotten a little too loud and the librarian kicked him out. Made to become a female against my will, and looking forward to a life of degradation and rape, I left the library when it closed and started to go home. Bill had been waiting for me and headed toward me. Just before Bill got to me, I jumped out in front of a city bus that was speeding down the street. I heard the brakes squeal and felt the bus hit me. Excruciating pain shot through my body and I blacked out. Chapter Two I saw the light that I've heard about, the one that people see when the die and I headed for it eagerly. Just as I was about to cross over, I felt a jolt of pain and it receded. This happened two more times, and then I lost the light. No matter how much I searched for it, it was gone. I awoke in a hospital bed, wired up like a science experiment. I felt like a truck had run over me, then chuckled and said, "No silly, it was a bus." The door opened and a nurse walked in. "Well, it's good to see that you finally decided to join us. How are you feeling?" I couldn't stop giggling and said, "Like a bus ran over me." She chuckled for a second, then said "Anything specific?" "No Ma'am, I just hurt all over." "OK. You stay right there and I'll get the doctor. She has been very worried about you." "Like, where am I going to go?" I giggled again. I seem to be doing that a lot now. The doctor came in a few minutes later. She wanted to know the usual stuff, and poked and prodded me for a few minutes. I actually felt fine, except for that dull ache. Then she said, "I've called your mother to let her know that you finally came out of your coma. Before she gets here, I need to tell you about your condition. We almost lost you, you are lucky to be alive. The surgical team that pulled you through is one of the best, but it was still touch and go. Frankly, the damage wasn't that severe, although you were in critical condition. That, plus the fact that you threw yourself in front of a bus, had us worried that you were suicidal. While this is not standard procedure by any means, we put you on anti-anxiety drugs to keep you calm. That seemed to work, and you got better after that." "Is that why I feel so good?" "It shouldn't make you feel good. It should just keep you from feeling depressed." I said, "Well, I feel better than I've felt in a long time. I'm not even sure that I want to die any more." "Why did you want to die?" "The guys on the team hate me for costing them the championship. Bill Parker plans on raping me. I am such a failure as a boy that my Father made me into a girl, even though I never wanted that. Several teachers told me that they knew I would become a girl one day. The kids treat me like I have the plague. My sister was the one that recommendation that I wear makeup, which was what gave Dad the idea to make me a girl. Even though I told Mom that I didn't want to be a girl, she helped Dad do it to me. I am smart and can be fun to be around, but that doesn't mean anything. Do you want me to go on?" She had turned as white as a sheet and just stared at me with wide eyes. Finally she said, "You never wanted to be a girl? Are you sure?" "Yes Ma'am, I'm sure. Why would I want to be a girl? I may not be very good at being a boy in my father's eyes, but I was born a boy and I liked it. The training my mother and sister gave me the weekend before I went to school just confirmed it in my mind. The more they taught me about being a girl, the less I wanted to become one. I just hope that Dad will give up on this and let me just be myself once I get out of here. Otherwise, I'll just have to make sure that I get it right the next time." Now the doctor was starting to look green. She excused herself and hurriedly left the room. The nurse was just looking at me in horror, and then she finally left as well. "I wonder what that was all about." Oh well, naptime. When I woke up, there was a pretty police officer sitting next to the bed, and her hand was gently shaking me. She said, "Hello. I'm Officer Murphy and I'd like to ask you some questions." She asked me about school, baseball, and about my father, then about the incident and my becoming a girl. We talked for a long time. I told her about my father trying to make me a man and how he used to punish me for being such a wimp. I told her about finally making the team, even if it was only as the batboy, and how proud I was, and sad that father didn't seem to care. I told her about the disastrous game and what had happened after that. How father had decided that I was a failure at being a boy and decided to make me a girl, since that was all I was good for anymore. She looked really grim at that point. I told her about the training that weekend and going to school on Monday. I told her about what Bill said, and that I decided to end it all when I saw him coming for me. Once I wound down, she asked me a few more questions, about my mom and sister, then told me I could go back to sleep. I did. The next few days were a blur. They told me later that was because they had upped my medicine. I finally started to come back to normal, sort of, and a nice lady came in to see me. "Hello, I'm Miss Anderson. I'm going to be your case worker." "Hello Miss Anderson. What is a case worker and why do I need one?" "I work for Social Services. I'm here to represent your interests and to see that your needs are taken care off. Has anyone explained to you why you are here and what has happened to you?" "No Ma'am. I sort of thought that I was here because a bus ran over me and I'm not healthy enough to go home yet. Could you tell me where my family is? The doctor called my mom to tell her I was awake, but I haven't seen any of them yet. Have I just been asleep when they came by?" Miss Anderson looked really sad, and then she said, "You will probably never see your folks again. They are both in jail, facing a long list of child abuse charges. Your sister is living with your Aunt Muriel out in Iowa, so it may be quite a while till you see her either. You are a ward of the State and I'm in charge of your case until you turn eighteen." "Maybe you should start at the beginning; I don't understand this at all." "All right. After the bus hit you, you were taken to the ER. The damage was extensive, but the most important thing for you to know is that your penis and testicles were damaged. When your father was informed, he showed them the paperwork entering you into your one-year real-life test, to see if you were a good candidate for sexual reassignment. He told them that because of the damage, they might as well go ahead and make you a girl. They operated on you after you had stabilized. Your male organs are gone, and you have an artificial vagina. Your hormones are that of a girl entering puberty and you were given an implant of slow release hormones to stabilize you at the higher level. Like it or not, you are now a girl." I just shut my eyes for a moment, and then said, "Anything else?" "Not really. You are recovering nicely from your injuries and the doctors are sure that you will have a minimum of scarring. That covers your physical state, but it is your mental state that has everyone worried." "I can see why. Since I have nothing to live for, they are afraid that I'll kill myself. They're right. I don't know why I'm telling you this though." She looked thoughtful, then said, "You have been given some drugs to relax you and let you go with the flow, as it were. I don't think it is supposed to act like a truth serum. Maybe you don't care enough to lie." "That makes sense. I have no family now and my whole life has been taken from me. I can see no reason to live, except that the doctors won't let me die. When you all get it figured out, let me know, will you. Until then, just let me sleep." With that, I just shut my eyes and waited until she left. I couldn't sleep, but I could daydream. I became a superhero in my mind, destroying those who had hurt me. I was trying to determine just how to best punish Debbie, when I was shaken awake again. This time, an older man in a rumpled suit was standing there. He said, "I'm Dr. Giles, your psychiatrist. We need to talk." He sat down next to me and said, "I understand you want to kill yourself. Could you explain why you need to do this?" "I'll try, but it won't mean anything in the end. No matter what, you and your colleagues won't let me die. You'll keep me chained to this bed, unable to truly live, rather than let me die. I may be drugged out of my skull, but I'm not a fool. Unable to control what I'm saying, yes, but not a fool." "Why don't you tell me anyway?" "Sure, why not. I'm no longer a boy and I refuse to be a girl. That about sums it up. I suppose that with enough drugs and mind games, you might make me accept being a girl. Morally that would put you on the same level as my father, about two steps below Hitler. I don't want to be 'cured' and I have nothing to live for. Why don't you all go away and just let me die?" "Because we can't. You know that." "Please leave me alone. The only doctor I want to see is named Kevorkian." I shut my eyes and waited until he left. I went back to my daydreams. A couple of days went by. Everytime someone came to talk with me, I tuned them out. If they became insistent or physical, I would look at them until they went away, but I refused to talk with them. Then they tried to tell me what a rewarding life I had before me. I finally asked one of the psychologists if he would trade places with me. He looked startled, then said he wouldn't mind it at all. I told him to come back after he had his sex change and we'd talk. They brought in a couple of involuntary transsexuals to try and explain that there was life after a sex change. I told them I was happy for them, but it wasn't for me. I finally asked when my parents were going on trial. That was when they told me that they had signed a plea bargain. They were sentenced to ten years in prison, and then the sentence was suspended as long as they completely paid all of Debbie's and my expenses, until we graduated from college. They were stripped of their parental rights and were forbidden to contact us. I asked, "No jail time?" "None, except for time served. The judge did this so that they could continue to provide for you and your sister." I said, "Well that changes things. Before I die I want to kill the judge and everyone else responsible for this abortion of justice, then kill my father. Then I can die." Apparently that wasn't considered an improvement. They quit bugging me for a while, and I went back to my dream world. Then Angelina Mackenzie entered my life. She burst into my room like a tornado, exuding energy with every movement. I watched her with some fascination; she was quite unlike the others that had come to cure me. The first thing she said was, "Why is she strapped down and hooked up to all those machines?" While the others dithered, I said, "I'm strapped down so I can't kill myself. I've been told that I'm physically OK, so the machines must be there to inflate my hospital bill. As long as my father has to pay for it, I approve." She turned to look at me while I was saying that. After I stopped she said, "Well, at least there is one person with some sense around here. Get all that stuff off of her, clean her up and escort her to my office." She looked at me and said, "You and I have a lot to talk about young lady, probably starting with the young lady part. I'll see you in about an hour, hopefully." Suddenly several people started to work on me. They took off all the wiring and unstrapped me from the bed. I was so weak that they had to carry me to the tub and give me the bath I so obviously needed. They washed my hair and put panties and a nightgown on me, then they loaded me into a wheelchair and rolled me to her office. There didn't seem to be much of a personal nature there, so I figured that she was just borrowing it. "I've come to take you to my sanitarium, and try to give you the will to live again. I've read up on your case and I believe that I can help you. We will be leaving shortly and they can have this office back. Before we go, I would like you to tell me why you want to die." "I am a boy. My father literally threw away my life as a boy, as if I had never existed, then had them turn me into a girl. I refuse to be a girl. Death is the only option that remains." "I assure you that girls can have fun, have meaningful lives, and do just about anything a boy can do." I held my hand up to interrupt her and said, "That is fine, and I believe you. There may even be a lot of boys that want to become girls and do that. I don't want to. Like I told the first doctor, you might be able to brainwash me to change, with treatments I can't even imagine. That would make you the moral equivalent of my father, because you would be making me into something I don't want to be. You may congratulate yourself on saving my life, but you will always know that somewhere, deep inside me, there is a boy you warped to fit the role you decided I needed to fill, and he hates you." "Nevertheless, I am going to try. I promise that I'll only give you drugs you need to stay healthy. You will be on the medications they put you on in the hospital for about a week while we wean your body off of them. I don't believe that you can heal while you are on those drugs anyway; they just keep you from feeling your pain and dealing with it. I will be carefully monitoring your hormone levels, to ensure that you don't undergo any sudden changes. That would be bad for you as well. For the next couple of weeks, I plan on getting you back into shape and letting you see what the new normal is. That and talking is all that I'm planning for now." The phone rang and she picked it up. After listening for a few seconds, she said goodbye and hung up. "That was the driver. We can go now." She pushed my wheelchair down the corridor and into the elevator. We went down to the first floor where she pushed me out the front door and the driver loaded me into a limo. I laughed and said, "Nice car. I was expecting an ambulance." As soon as we were aboard and strapped in, the driver took off. We didn't talk much during the trip. The gate to her nut house opened as we approached, and the driver stopped at the entrance to a huge mansion. A large man dressed all in white was waiting for us with a wheelchair, and he transferred me into it effortlessly. Ms. Mackenzie pushed me through the front doors and into the elevator. It went up one floor and the doors opened, showing hallways to the left and right. She turned to the right and pushed me down the wide hallway till we stopped at door number eight. She opened it up and pushed me in. The room was nice, with its own bathroom. She showed me the clothes in the closets and the dresser. "Both boys and girls wear jeans and tee- shirts, tennis shoes and white socks. That is what most of the clothing consists of. There is also some more girlie stuff, if you ever change your mind. The underwear is boxer shorts or panties, because jockey short won't fit you properly anymore. There are some bras because you will need them soon enough, so you might want to get used to them now. There is a basic set of cosmetics on the vanity, should you ever decide to use any. Let's go to lunch, and then I'll introduce you to your physical therapist." Lunch consisted of one of the best sandwiches I have ever had, plus some really good fries. I looked at the others in the dining room. They ranged from kids my age to old people. Almost everyone seemed normal to me, so I asked her where the patients were. She told me that most of them were patients, and that only the truly bad cases didn't eat with the others. That's when I realized that all the food was stuff you could eat with your hands. After lunch she dropped me off with one of the largest men I have ever seen. With a gentle voice he told me that he was Howard and that he would be my therapist. He asked me my name and I told him I was Doug, but if he felt better about it he could call me Emily. He called me Doug and started me on a bunch of exercises. It was all pretty simple stuff, but boy did it take it out of me. At the end of the session, he told me that I should be back to normal quickly, if I kept working as hard as I had today. He gave me a massage and sent me on my way. I didn't know my way around, so I asked the attendant pushing my chair if they had a map so I could figure out where everything was. She took me to the entrance and pointed out the map on the wall, so I started studying it. That is where Ms. Mackenzie found me. "Plotting your escape so soon? Was Howard that rough on you?" "No Ma'am. I'm just trying to figure out where everything is." She pointed everything out to me, including some things that weren't shown on the map, like where her rooms were. I was most interested in where the library was, and the TV room so I could catch the baseball games when they came on. I was wheeled into the library and just spent some time looking around, trying to get the feel of the place. Every library is different and I wanted to understand this one, what was where and what types of books they had. There was a good selection of books on medicine and psychiatry of course, but there were also books on history and some contemporary fiction. I pulled down a biography of Tamerlane, by Harold Lamb, and quickly became engrossed. Ms. Mackenzie found me there when she wanted me to get ready for dinner. I asked her if I could take the book with me and she said that I could. She helped me back to my room so I could get cleaned up, then rolled me to the dining room. The menu for tonight was Chinese and I had something called General Tso's Chicken. I thought Mexican food was spicy! After I got used to the fire in my mouth, it tasted great. The tableware was all plastic, and still I caught Ms. Mackenzie staring at me whenever I used the fork. Finally I just laughed at her, telling her that after I had failed the first time, was wasn't going to depend on a flimsy plastic fork for my second suicide attempt. She gave me a wounded look, but seemed to relax after that. After dinner she rolled me out through the back doors and into the garden they had back there. The walls were very high, but I knew that I could climb them once I was back to being myself. Mostly the area was relaxing. She wheeled me to the fountain and sat down on the edge. I guessed that it was time for one of those little talks, and I was right. "I have thought about what you said, and I still can't accept it. What is wrong with being female?" "There is nothing wrong with being female, if you are born that way. It is even fine if you were born male, but want to be female. I was born a male and, no matter how bad I might have been at it, that is all I ever wanted to be. Girls turn me on, boys don't. I like doing boy stuff, not girl stuff. I understand and get along with boys; girls are a complete mystery to me. I could go on and on, but what's the use. I'm a boy, my dad turned me into a girl, and now there is no place left for me." "What do you like to be called?" "Doug." "All right Doug, I want you to quit concentrating on the negative. Don't look at what you can't be, try to find out what you can. What do you like to do?" "Read, watch baseball on TV, play games on my computer, stuff like that." "Then do that." "I can't play baseball as a girl." "What did I say about negative things? Besides, from what I understand, you couldn't play baseball as a boy either. Look Doug, you have this all wrong. If you want to act like a male, just do so. Nobody is stopping you. You'll never have a penis and you won't be able to get a girl pregnant, but you can still be a boy if that is what you want." "How can I meet a girl, let alone be a father and a husband?" "Truth time. How many girls have you dated? None right? Because of what has happened, you can't make a girl pregnant. That doesn't mean that you can't be whatever you want to be, but there will be things you can't do. Because of how you are shaped, if you marry a woman it will have to be a lesbian relationship in bed, but you can be her husband and the father of whatever children she has or the two of you adopt. I want you to think about that, and we'll talk again later." She wheeled me to my bedroom and helped me get ready for bed, then shut and locked the door. I had a lot to think about, but I needed to sleep on what she had said so I could get it straight in my mind. I read some more about Tamerlane until I got sleepy, then I rolled over and went to sleep. That night I dreamed a lot. Sometimes I was a boy or a man, dealing with my secret. Sometimes I was a girl or a woman, trying to understand what that meant. Once I was dead, and all I could see was my father laughing at me for being such a loser, letting him win without a fight. My father figured into several of my other dreams as well, smug with his victory when I was a girl, and disappointed in my failures when I was a boy. Ms. Mackenzie didn't come by until about 9 o'clock. By then I had crawled to the bathroom and taken care of business, then got dressed. She asked if I had bathed and I told her no. She helped me strip down and go back in the bathroom. She proceeded to give me a no-nonsense lecture about my new body, and what I needed to do to keep it healthy. Then she talked to me about dilation. She said that I needed to do it at least twice a day for several months, and was surprised that nobody had talked to me about it before. Boy was that an eye-opener! Once she was satisfied that I was ready, we went for brunch. She asked me if I wanted to talk about anything concerning what we discussed last evening, and I told her no, that I was still trying to get it all straight in my mind. She smiled and told me to take my time, then dropped me off early with Howard. He had me do a lot of stretches, since my body had tightened up lying strapped down in bed for such a long time. Then he had me doing weight work, with weights under 5 pounds. I told him that even I didn't think I was that puny, but he explained that this wasn't weight training, he was trying to tone up my muscles. "Tomorrow we will work on bulking you up, to help you get your muscle mass back. Even then, we won't be using the one-ton weights for a while. The program I'm putting you through will alternate bulking with toning. Trust me, I know what I'm doing." I looked all around the room. When he wanted to know what I was looking for, I told him I was looking for Igor, his evil assistant. He got a laugh out of that, and we finished for the day. I went back to the room to clean up, and to perform my second dilation. Then I thought about what Ms. Mackenzie had said to me yesterday. I still hadn't sorted it all out by the time that she swung by to take me to dinner. I was very quiet while I was with her, and she took me to my room without comment. She helped me get undressed again and I went to bed. I had even more strange dreams that night. I decided to be a man and lived a lonely life. I became a woman, got married, and had the whole white-picket fence experience. I found Dad and slowly tortured him to death. I really enjoyed the last one. I slept in late again and had the attendant take me straight to Howard's office. He ran me through a series of much heavier weights, to help build muscle mass. After he was done, I went back to my room and cleaned up; doing all the things I had skipped. I was so exhausted; I had to have the attendant help me. When the attendant took me down to lunch, Ms. Mackenzie asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was still thinking about what she had said. She told me we would talk after lunch. Ms. Mackenzie wheeled me into the garden, then said, "Doug, while you are thinking about what we talked about yesterday, I would like you to do something for me." "What would that be?" "I want you to have fun. Get out of your room and meet some of our other guests. Watch TV, play some games or maybe just sit and talk. You don't have to be a boy or a girl to do that, both sexes enjoy those sorts of things." I smiled and said, "OK. I'll succumb to your sneaky trick. I'll try to have some fun." "Thank you. I have found that active, happy people rarely kill themselves." With that statement she walked off. I had the attendant push me into the TV room, to see if there was a game on today. While I was looking over the programming guide from last Sunday's paper, a girl came over to me and said, "Hi, I'm Shelly. You're new here aren't you? I can't tell, are you a boy or a girl?" I looked over at her and said, "I was born a boy named Doug, but my father decided that I was a failure at it, so he made me a girl named Emily. I'm not a boy anymore, but I not really a girl either. Call me Doug." She looked at me for a few moments then said, "I thought that you were different. Would you like to play a game of Sorry with me?" "That sounds like fun." As we sat there, playing the game, she told me about herself and I told her my story. Her father and her brother had abused her for years. She told me that she was afraid of men, but since I wasn't really a man, I didn't scare her. She said that she was real sorry that my daddy had done such a horrible thing to me. She thought that what he had done to me was worse than what her daddy had done to her. "I'm in here to learn how to deal with men, so I can have a normal life. I can't let my daddy win, and you can't let your daddy win either. If you'll be my friend and help me stop being afraid of men, I'll try to help you want to live again." "I don't know what you can do for me, but I'm glad to do what I can to help you." We talked and played games until it was time for dinner. She put the games away, and then wheeled me to the dinning room to eat. Ms. Mackenzie intercepted us and told her to push me to the table we normally ate at. Shelly did that and sat down beside me. Ms. Mackenzie asked what we had been doing this afternoon, and her eyes got wide when Shelly said, "Doug and I talked and played several games of Sorry. I like him and I think we will be friends." After dinner I wanted to watch the ball game. Shelly said, "Just like a boy. Sports, sports, and more sports. I'm going to my room to listen to my music. I'll see you in the morning." After we all said goodnight, Shelly left for her room and Ms. Mackenzie said, "I am amazed. Do you realize that you are the first boy she has talked with since she came here?" "Yes, Ma'am. She told me her story." She acted like she wanted to say something, but she just shook her head and left. The game started and it quickly captured my attention. It was a good game, with the lead changed hands several times. By the time it was over, in the tenth inning, I was exhausted and struggled to leave the TV room. One of the attendants noticed my plight, wheeled me to my room and helped me go to bed. I had breakfast with Shelly the next morning, and we got along just fine. She told me that she wanted to become a nurse when she grew older, so she could help people like us. I told her that there were other jobs that would let her do that, and some of them might let her help even more. She wanted to know what I was talking about, so I had her push me to the library. I had to bring back my book anyway. I put the book I borrowed back on the shelf, and then went to the card catalog. We searched through it for books on medical careers and we found one that looked good. I told her that I had to go see Howard for my physical therapy and that would give her a chance to look at the book. Today we worked on toning my muscles, and we kept at it longer than we did before. After I was done, he had an attendant wheel me to my room and help me clean up. After I was done, I rejoined Shelly in the library. She was engrossed in the book, but it was time for lunch, so I had her mark her place and come eat. All during lunch she talked about the different careers in the book, and she hadn't even got to psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist yet. When I told her about those careers, it was all I could do to get her to finish her lunch. Just as we were finishing up, an older girl came over and said, "Hi Shelly. Who's your new friend?" Shelly's face lit up with a smile and she rattled off, "Rachel, you're back! When did you get in? How are you doing? How is your therapy coming?" Rachel laughed and said, "Whoa girl! Slow down, you're going to blow a gasket. I just got in, I'm doing OK, and my therapy... well, let's just say that I'm progressing. Now, if you please answer my question. Who is your friend?" "Rachel, meet Doug. Doug, this is my friend Rachel. Why don't the two of you get to know each other, I've got to get back to this book Doug showed me." Rachel looked at the book and said, "Careers in Medicine. I can see how that would be a real page-turner. Not!" "Oh Rachel, I want to see what I'm going to be when I grow up. You two have fun now," and she ran off to the library. Rachel turned to me and said, "Doug?" I said, "Yeah. Come out to the garden and I'll tell you my story. Then you'll understand." I tried to wheel myself off, but she was pushing me after just a few feet. She pushed me over to the lilac bushes and then set on the bench next to them. I told her my story and she understood how Shelly was able to deal with me. "My story isn't as bad as yours, but I nearly died as well. My father is a very successful businessman and we've always done well financially. My mother was an up and coming lawyer when she had me. She quit all that to be a stay at home mom and I think that was what made her the way she is. Since she had given up everything up to be there for me, my successes became her successes. Dad pushed me to excel, but nothing less than perfection was acceptable to my mother. When my brother came along several years later my dad eased up on me, but my mom never lowered her expectations at all. I finally snapped under all the pressure and started drinking, then doing drugs. My life really went to Hell, but I just didn't care anymore. I overdosed in school and they barely saved my life. My mom had to be hauled away from my bedside before she hurt me, screaming at me for being a failure. The whole family has been in therapy ever since. I keep trying to go back home, but my psychiatrist keeps sending me back here. He tells me that neither I nor my mother can handle it yet, and I'm beginning to think we never will." We sat there for a while, just talking. When it was nearly time for dinner, I had the attendant wheel me back to my room for my second dilation. I went back downstairs and looked in the library. Sure enough, Shelly still had her nose stuck in that book. "Hey Shelly, it's dinner time!" Everybody looked at me like I'd just killed Bambi. Apparently shouting in the library is a no-no. Shelly stopped reading, marked her place and pushed me to the dining room, so at least it worked. She gave me that, "Just like a boy," line again. When we got to the dinning room, we saw that Rachel had saved us a seat, so we went over and Shelly sat down. Ms. Mackenzie came by while we were eating and asked us how we were doing. We told her that we were doing fine, then started gabbing again as soon as she went to another table. I just caught a hint of a smile as she turned away, but it didn't bother me. Chapter Three Things went on like that for three weeks, and then Howard took away my wheelchair, saying that I didn't need it anymore. He gave me a cane to use for the next few days, but after that, I should be able to walk by myself. Sure enough, he was right. I joined the aerobics class to get my body in better shape. I grew stronger in my legs and my endurance increased, but I was still awfully weak in my upper body. Harold explained that the hormones were hindering my upper body development. Building up my upper body will take longer than if I was still chemically male. I would be able to become stronger, but I would never be buff like a man can be. Thanks a lot Dad. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, Ms. Mackenzie and I talked a lot. I still hated what my father had done to me, but I began to think I could live with it. I still wanted him dead, but now I started to care about not getting caught. I could see some real changes in my friends as well. Shelly was now talking with other boys, although she said she still preferred me. Rachel was offered a chance to go home, but she turned it down. She had finally come to realize that she couldn't live with her mother anymore. She asked to be placed in a foster home, and boy, did that cause a stink. Her father appeared in the lobby and wanted to see Rachel, right now. He made quite a scene, and that was before she appeared. He yelled at her for tearing the family apart, and after she was taken away, he wanted to know who had put all these crazy ideas into her head. He yelled at Ms. Mackenzie for several minutes, then told her he was taking his daughter out of this place, right now. Boy was he pissed when she told him no, he wasn't taking Rachel anywhere, and then told him to leave. He almost looked like he was going to hit her, but he left after looking at the large men in white that were standing next to him. Two hours later he was back with police to spring his daughter from her kidnappers. If he was pissed off before, it wasn't anything to how mad he was when she showed him the papers giving her full custodial rights to Rachel. He left, vowing that she had not heard the last of him, and I heard Ms. Mackenzie say softly, "No, I don't suppose I have." Rachel was glad that everything turned out peacefully, but she was really sad about her family and shaken about her father's actions. Shelly and I tried to comfort her all afternoon, but I think she started smiling just to make us happy. We never did find out what happened with Rachel's father after that. School was getting ready to start and Rachel left to enter a foster home. The last day she was with us she said, "Doug, you have to face facts. Your body is too feminine to pass as a boy anymore. You have breasts now and, with your hips, they give you a girl's figure. You need to acknowledge that and take a girl's name. You can be a tomboy or a lesbian if you want to be, keep your hair in a ponytail or cut it short, wear nothing but jeans and wear no makeup, but you can't be a boy any longer. You're giving out mixed signals, and that could get you killed." I thought about what she said, then went up to my room. I looked in the mirror and saw what she meant. Without any makeup, my hair in a boy's ponytail and wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and tennis shoes, I looked like a girl. Taking off my clothes just made it worse. My breasts were bothering me, like always, and I realized that Ms. Mackenzie was right. I needed a bra, so I put one on. That one was too small, so I kept trying on bras until I found one that fit. My breasts thanked me, but I looked even more like a girl than before. I put on a tee shirt, instead of the sweatshirt I had been wearing and my appearance all but screamed girl. I was depressed. I went back downstairs and walked back over to Shelly and Rachel. Shelly gasped, but Rachel just said, "See what I mean?" I nodded my head and Rachel wanted to know what my girl name was. I told her that my parents had renamed me Emily Ann. She said, "But what do you want to be called?" "Other than Doug, I don't know." They decided to help me. I was glad that Rachel was there, every name that Shelly came up with was terminally girlie and ended in an A. I finally settled on Bethany Lynn, and told everyone to call me Beth. I went to see Ms. Mackenzie, and after a short wait, told her what I had decided. She smiled and said that she would have the paperwork on her desk by tomorrow, unless her lawye