Be Like Others free porn video

Note. I have read many stories on FM and other places involving Muslim characters and settings. Although I am not Muslim I have spent a enough time in the middle east working and travelling in Islamic countries to come to respect their beliefs and culture, and wanted to try to writing something that showed Islam in a different light. Where ever it's been practical I have kept the Islamic rites and prayers accurate although I have simplified some elements. If this offends anyone you have my sincere apologies as I have aimed through to portray Islam as a religion of tolerance. Be Like Others. By Trish. Like most Westerners my initial ideas about the Islamic Republic of Iran and the Iranian people came from by the mostly negative stereotypes shown in the media. Not that my views could have be anything else with my deeply repressed feelings and confusions about my gender and life ambitions. The idea that I could ever find happiness in such a totalitarian religious state was an anathema to me. Life however was to prove me wrong! Like all my generation I went to university. In my case it was not so much out of a desire to better myself but because it was expected of me. I was one of those rare success that came out of a council estate primary school being the first boy in 20 years to pass the entry exam and win a full scholarship to the local independent boys grammar school. I'll be honest if I had known just what it was going to be like I probably would have flunked the exam... Going there alienated me from my primary school friends but my single parent back ground and scholarship boy status meant I was never truly accepted by my new school mates either. To the boys from the affluent families who could afford to send their son's to the grammar I was a social outsider and they made my life hell. If I had not been quite so bright, perhaps they could have accepted me, but they despised the fact the the 'dole-boy' scored better than them and they made no secret of their feelings about me. Having to deal with their bullying on top trying to come to terms with my hidden discomfort about my gender identity and body image, led to numerous dark moments and my school years were not exactly happy ones. Admittedly being at the kind of school where you were constantly pushed to improve did lead to academic success and as the only way I could get back at the boy's who taunted me was to do better than any of them I made the most of the education I was given. Although I hated being at the grammar I really do have to thank the teachers there for discovering my talent for languages and the clutch of good GCSE and A level qualifications that won me a place at Durham University. I did not really want to go to University but my mum insisted I took it... Looking at it now I think my unwillingness to go had more to do with knowing how ill she was. My mum had been suffering from cancer for the last few years but she was insistent that I took all the opportunities that her lack of education and economic background denied her and told me, "You're going!" She was so proud that her son was going to University that I pushed my fears aside and did as she wished even though I knew leaving home meant I was risking never seeing her again. I owe her so much for making me take that offer because the day I arrived in Durham I met Bee when student union housing service found me the bedsit next door to hers. "Hey you must be the newbie?" A mannish looking girl wearing a Durham University Rowing Club tee shirt announced coming out of the door next to my new home. "Thought I heard someone moving in," Giving me a wide grin she thrust out her hand saying as her dark eyes regarded me from under a mop of short reddish brown hair. "Hello I'm Beharah Rahman but call me Bee! Want a hand to bring your stuff up?" "Erm yes if you don't mind," I answered, "I'm Sam, Saw Williams." Bee was a good couple of inches taller than me and looked a little like a more muscular version of the French tennis player Amelie Mauresmo. As she shook my hand I could feel the restrained strength of her powerful arm and if she had not had such a friendly personality, her rather masculine look, manner and self confidence would have felt quite intimidating. "Pleased to meet you Sam," Bee said following me down the stairs to the front door. "That yours?" She nodded to the box in the back of the student union delivery van. "Yeah," I nodded, "Careful though it's heavy," With out even showing the slightest of effort Bee easily lifted the box from van telling me. "I'll take this to you room while you pay the driver and then pop the kettle on... After a day in queues of the SU accommodation service I'll bet you are gagging... Tea all right?" "Yes please and thanks. You should find a mug in the top of that box." "No need to bother I've got a spare," Bee called charging up the stairs as if she was unencumbered by my heavy box of food of and kitchen utensils. Slinging my new rucksack on my back containing my clothes and picking up the last box I paid the driver the ?10 delivery fee and followed Bee into the house. "Although its a bit small it's a lovely room," Bee commented as I walked in and dumped my stuff. "So where are you from?" "Manchester," I said looking round my home for the foreseeable future. It had everything I needed. Along the wall by the ? bed was a small sofa that faced a dresser with a mirror on opposite wall, a study desk sat by the window and a wardrobe cum cupboard fished the furniture by the door. "Come on the kettle should be boiled by now, and I'll show you where everything is. Bathroom's there," She nodded to a door next to the stairwell, "We had a cleaning rota for that and the kitchen last year which if you have no objections we'll carry on this year?" "Fine by me," I said, adding with a sheepish look. "I was kind of worried when I heard that I was going to be in a bedsit that I'd get assigned a dump." Bee was a fountain of useful information. Showing a cheery personality she explained that we shared 'our' kitchen and bathroom with the third bed sit on the landing. "Kathy's in there but you won't see her much, she's a student nurse at the hospital and often stays at her boyfriends. So what are you studying?" "Languages," I said. "Cool! Hey I don't suppose you speak Farsi do you?" I shook my head."No just they usual French and German fluently. Passable Latin and I've picked up bits and bobs of Norwegian, Spanish and Arabic from boys at my old school." "Arabic huh, so what do you want to study?" Bee asked, leading me into the kitchen. "Not got a clue, anything other than a European one. I want to learn something new. Farsi, that's Iranian isn't it?" "Yes," Bee said. "I'm Iranian and miss speaking it... sure there are other Iranians here, but they are all a bit too devout for me if you know what I mean, and don't wholly approve of me!" "Whys that?" I asked. "Stuff," Bee said evasively, so I let the subject drop and said. "Well my top two choices are either middle eastern languages or Russian," "Do middle eastern, and I can help you Sam," Bee said with a smile, switching to Arabic to add. "Especially as you already speak at bit of Arabic." "I think you said something like," I said breaking the words down, "You speak a Arabic?" "Close enough," Bee laughed, "Come on lets have a brew!" Bee and I were quickly building a relationship that lasts to this day, and that first that evening when I phoned my mum I was feeling a lot happier about being away from home than I thought I would. With what I came to know as her usual forwards manner Bee guided me though the transition from school to university with out to many hiccups. Sure as the weeks progressed I felt a few pangs of homesickness but it was not that bad even when it was compounded by how weak my mum started to sound on the phone. During my first introductory month I was exposed to the various choices I could take and when I came to select my modules I ended up following Bee's advice and opted to take the middle eastern languages path. Most of the middle eastern course's first year was spent learning Arabic and having already got a handle on the basics of the language before I started the course I quickly found my feet academically and surprisingly socially. At the university there was none of the harassment I suffered at school because of my back ground and it liberated a social side of my personality that I never knew I had. The only down side came from the fact that I did not drink and was feeling if anything even more confused about my personal sense of gender, which meant I never felt completely comfortable in the social whirl of student life. I became friends with a girl called Jane after sharing a table with her one lunch time in the cafeteria. Jane was studying Oriental Languages, and she sort of adopted me into her group socially. The group was made up of her house mates, Jennifer (who was also a linguist), and Sandy who was reading physics. I became good mates with them and enjoyed their company at Student Union events. Although I really enjoyed Jane and the girls company the person I felt most comfortable socialising with was Bee. Not that she had much time to socialise because her final year work load was punishing, and my friendship with her grew up over pots of tea in our bedsits! Bee was a strange girl. Although very secular in her look and manner, she was in her own way rather religious and very knowledgeable if not particularly devout in her beliefs. She was a final year as an engineering student, with a liking for rowing and old Triumph engines. Although she did not brag about it Bee was clearly an over achiever and had already made up her mind that she was staying in Durham for at least another two years for her MSc before she thought about going home. This came a relief for me as I came to rely on her friendship all the more as my mums illness reached its final stages. I do not know how or why we hit it off so well as we came from very different worlds. I came from a typically secular British background and she was an Iranian Muslim but as she was more than willing to let me practice my Arabic on her, we got to be friends for friendships sake rather than as potential partners. As my Arabic improved it led to Bee deciding that teaching me speak Iranian Farsi would be a good form of stress relief for her and I was more than willing to learn. I quickly found I rather liked the language it had a lyrical poetic turn of phrase and when I came to select my second year modules it seemed like a good idea since she was staying on as a postgraduate to make the most of our friendship and take Persian languages and studies. Thankfully Mum lasted through my first two terms, and I got home in time to see her before the end. Losing her in my first year just before Easter did put a damper on things for me but I had known for a couple of years that her cancer was terminal so it did not come as to greater shock. I knew how much mum hated her illness and that she had viewed her passing as a journey to a better place. Mum had brought me up to have a sense of religious faith which did bring me some comfort after she died even though unlike her I was at best a questioning believer in Christianity. If there was one positive out come from the whole nasty thing was it brought Bee and I closer together. It was not like a boyfriend girlfriend thing but rather a platonic closeness that began to unchain subjects that had been taboo. For the first time we spoke about our families, well I told her about my mum before she got sick and Bee moaned about how hers expected once she finished her education to come home and conform to norm. It was pretty clear from how she spoke that the idea of giving up her hopes of a career to get married and have kids was not something that appealed to her. As I started to build my fluency in Arabic, and my get head round and Persian Bee decided that it would be a good idea that when ever possible we should speak to each other in either Farsi or Arabic. It was good practice for me even though at first I often needed to revert to English and ask for an explanation. Being very proud of her nationality Bee was clearly enjoying teaching me her language and by default about her culture, which stood me in good stead when it came to my college work. Along with the language modules, there were also modules on the history and culture of the middle east, which meant I had to read the Koran and study Islamic teachings (Hadiths). We did not have much choice in the matter as the Koran was also the text they used to teach us to read Arabic script, and Bee enthusiastically spent many an evening explaining various points of Islamic belief to me as I grappled with Arabic's written form. Having been used to the Roman alphabet learning Arabic script was probably the hardest part of my course and one thing that really helped me understand it's intricacies was taking up Islamic calligraphy as a hobby. This was another of Bee's suggestions, and I know I have her to thank for the excellent grades I was getting. To be honest at first I found the modules on Islam a bit of a drag and for most of my first year they were not my favourite lectures. Obviously I knew that a solid understanding of Islam was a necessity if I was to understand middle eastern culture but at first I found the religion harsh, dogmatic and inflexible until one day not long after my mum died when I was working on my final term paper of the year. As I studied the Koran and Hadith's organising my ideas something clicked in my head and I realised that Islam was not so much a system of belief but a way of life, and one that as my course progressed over the next year or so became increasingly appealing. As I already held a strong belief in the existence of God, but struggled with the illogical inconsistencies of Christianity I started to find Islamic beliefs appealing. I know some of my attraction to Islamic teachings grew out of numerous evenings spent discussing the differences between Christian and Islamic belief with Bee. Although Bee for all she was a very secular and western minded was a believer even if she did not agree with or follow strict Islamic practice, for instance she ignored the rules of hijab (modest dressing) and would on occasion have a drink! Although Bee started teaching me Farsi for fun in my second term, for most of my first year on the grounds that I needed all the practice I could get we generally conversed in Arabic. Recalling how she developed her school, television and self taught English when she came over here at 16 for her A-levels, Bee suggested that I should try reading Arabic Poetry. She was right because by the end of the year thanks to her extracurricular tuition, my verbal understanding and fluency in Arabic was close to native. Just before college finished for the year I had to select my year two modules and mainly at Bee's urging that I opted to take Persian in my second year. As my mum had passed away I could not go home for the summer as I no longer had a home there and spent the summer in Durham working at a supermarket in town. I was glad of the job because I was alone in the house and was feeling a little lonely since Bee had gone home for a month at the start of the summer break to show off her new degree! Things brightened up when she got back and again on the grounds that I would need the practice Bee decided that from now on Iranian Farsi would be our main conversational language. Looking back at it now for most of my undergraduate years at Durham once I had got reasonably fluent in Arabic about the only time we spoke English to each other was when she was having a moan about her parent culture. When I commented on this peculiarity Bee laughed but did not give me a reason and I came to the conclusion it was because English had a more colourful vulgar vocabulary. I was half right as Bee later told me that one of the reasons why she moaned in English was she did not want me to develop a vulgar vocabulary in either Arabic or Farsi! "Its not fair!" Bee moaned. "I love Iran its my home and I'd love to use my education do something worth while for my country but because I want the freedom to pursue a career I can see me having to live in the west. I had to work too bloody hard and get past too many sodding obstacles to get the chance to come here and train to become an fucking engineer. The idea that I should willingly give all that up to become some bastards chattel of a wife and broodmare of his kids, is sick!" It was times like that when I was tempted to tell her that if it was possible I would have willing swapped places with her because I dreamed of everything she loathed! However aware of her cultural background I did not want to risk our friendship by admitting my simmering discomforts about being a boy. During my first few months at Durham when I was too busy finding my feet and adapting to this new world I was rarely plagued by my gender confusion. Sure it was always there flickering in the back of my mind but because I was actually enjoying life it never reached the point where it impinged on my studies in quite the way it had at school. Over the next year or so I went through the usual cycles of building up a few items of female clothing, then purging everything before starting again. Wishing I had the self-confidence to follow their example I devoured every book and article I could find about transgendered people. Reading them often got me wondering if I should see a doctor and find out if I was like them, and yet I was afraid they would say I was... This question would plague me on and off for most of my first two years at the University, and my gender issues were one of the major reasons why for all I was attracted to Islam I could not accept it for myself. God only knows how many times I considered brining my gender problems up with Bee but every time I was going to, my uncertainties about her losing her friendship stopped me. By the middle of my second year Bee and I had grown to be very close friends, yet I never dared mention my gender issues and confusions to her even though we had more than reached the point where or friendship was secure enough to touch on such a truly personal issue. I guess looking back we just needed a catalyst to break that final barrier and that did not come until we watched a documentary that Bee had wanted to see for a while the weekend before she was due to fly home for a couple of weeks at the end of my second year. Through out my course every Monday morning the tutor showed us Al- Jazeera's Arabic language weekend news round up. At some point I had mentioned this to Bee and she came up with the idea of having a middle eastern telly night once a week when we would watch what ever Iranian or Arabic language programs and films we found or the language school library turned up. It was a lot of fun and did wonders for my casual comprehension. We watched mainly the mainstream programs that the language school tutors requested recording, and the occasional film we found either locally or when Bee went to stock up with 'treats' from home at a shop in Leeds that served the Iranian community. On one such trip Bee be found the documentary that acted as the catalyst that changed our relationship completely. It was a film by a Iranian/American director called 'Be Like Others' and was about being transgendered in Iran. It was a fascinating documentary and I was riveted to the screen. Many of the issues raised cut a little to close to home for me and hearing the male to female subjects talking about their lives had me at times wanting to squirm because I knew just how they felt. The film maker did not try to make any judgements and kept the English narration voice over to a minimum so it did not distract from the emotion in the voices of the people speaking. (Much of the film was subtitled.) From an academic point of view it was well worth watching, as I was hearing Farsi spoken by real people with slang and contractions rather than the formal and correct version I had learned at college and spoke with Bee. When it was finished we were both lost in thought for a moment before I said. "Cha-ee?" Cha-ee is the Persian word for tea. Bee simply could not function with out at least a couple of pots a day and it would not be far for the truth to say that cha-ee is the lubricant that makes Iran work! Persian/Iranian tea is a mix of lose black tea with a pinch of rose petals served in a glass cup and traditionally drank through a piece of sugar held between your teeth but both Bee valued ours too much for that and just added sugar to the glass. Not long after we became friends when she was introducing me to the basics of the Arabic language and culture, one of my first 'lessons' from her was how to prepare a pot cha-ee properly and over the two years we had been friends I had come to prefer drinking it that way. "Please," Bee said before adding in English, "What do you think the documentary?" "Good, really good. Kind of changes my view of Iran in some ways, while at the same time reinforcing just how monolithic some things are, if you know what I mean?" "Yes sort of," Bee nodded with a glum look in her eyes. "It shows Iran in a more tolerant light in one way..." "Or intolerant, because some of those men undergoing reassignment were clearly gay." "Yeah," Bee said thoughtfully, "But what choice do you have in a country where homosexuality is illegal." "Not much," I said. "And don't forget the lesbian's like that girl at the start." "Yeah..," I thought I heard a catch in Bee's voice which made me think. I had known her closely for nearly two years and in that time she had never had a boyfriend or come to that a girlfriend. Neither had she shown any interest in finding one. Although she had been a stalwart of the dykes in dugouts (ladies rowing club) she rarely mixed with them outside of training and it was the same with her mostly male course mates. Unless it involved work or tinkering with an engine Bee did not socialise when them any more than she did with the rowing girls. In fact when I actually thought about it for all Bee had a wide circle of friends from across the university I was her only really close friend... Stood there thinking about her behaviour it hit me that in all the years I had know her she had never commented on finding anyone attractive which from someone as secular and liberated at Bee was very unusual. I decide to quell such thoughts about her and pulled my mind back to the documentary and said. "I know its a harsh way of doing things but for those who are genuinely transgendered then the fact that the state supports them is a surprise. I never would have expected with Iran's reputation as a hard line state that Ayatollah Khomeini would have been so progressive that the Islamic state he founded would actually spend public money paying for part of the gender reassignment treatment." Bee semi grunted in response but did not comment. "Its a pity the same cannot be said for here," I said wistfully. Suddenly blushing brightly as I realised what I had said and hoped she had not noticed the note of desire in my tone as I carried the tea tray back into her untidy room. "What do you mean by that?" Bee demanded looking at me as I walked in. Reading my blushing face as I set the tray before her she must have guessed what was behind my expression because she suddenly said. "Oh... Like that is it?" I went even redder, which brought a sheepish smile to her formally glum looking face as she said reverting to Farsi. "Well that explains a few things." "Like," I said fearfully. "Why you've never asked me or any other girl out for one," Bee smiled, adding with an impish look in her face. "I did not think you were gay because I could tell you fancied me when we first met," "Erm yes I did and I suppose I still do," I admitted. Bee gave me a kind look and said. "I know." I blushed even brighter as she gave me a smile and said. "If I'm reading your blushes right Sam, I guess you identified yourself rather too closely with the transgendered women in that film?" "Yes," I could feel my hands shaking as I started to prepare the tea and made myself say. "I've always wished I was a girl Bee," Once I had admitted it and told her, it was like a dam breaking and I was saying before I realised it. "All my life I have felt wrong in my skin... At school especially the grammar I used to go to sleep at night begging god to let me wake up as a girl... From the moment I knew what it meant to be me I have known I was different to other boys and no matter how hard I have tried every time I start to get close to a girl... even with you, something in me says its a sin to be with them... But I can't bring myself to want to be with a man living like I am... God I am so fucked up!" Bee placed her hand on mine and said. "I half know what you mean Sam..." Reassured by her touch I hesitantly asked. "Are you a lesbian Bee?" "I don't know," she admitted. "I do know I've never found men sexually attractive and from the moment I knew what it meant to be a woman that idea of being married to a man revolted me to the depths of my soul... The thing was until I came to England at 16 for my A-levels the concept of finding a woman attractive simply did not exist in my psyche. I guess with being brought up in a Islamic world and going to a school where religion instruction took centre stage when it came to the education of girls, the concept of lesbianism was so far out that it never occurred to me." "Oh, so you're not attracted to women?" Bee blushed this time. "That's not what I meant... Even though I don't find the kind women you see here all that attractive, I do find the idea of a traditional woman sexually appealing... May be its my upbringing but I'm very attracted to Muslim women." "And do you see your self as a woman?" I asked feeling my heart pounding in my chest. "I see myself as me," She said and looked me in the eyes as she added, "Which I suppose thinking about it now after watching that documentary I probably see myself as a woman about as much as you see yourself as a man." "Oh?" I said, recalling what I was doing and pouring the tea into the glass cups and with out thinking I sugared the drinks before I offered her a cup. "Thanks Sam," Bee said, "You doing that very gracefully these days." "Lots of practice," I blushed at her praise. "But to go back to what I was asking. You know if you stayed here and you met a woman like that, you could to all intents and purposes marry her and still have your career?" Bee sipped her tea before answering, "I can yes, but then I'd have to cut myself off from my family and my culture. Oh I know I could get involved with an English girl hell I have had enough offers since I came to university but I know that my upbringing would make me show a middle eastern possessive view of her." "Not sure what you mean?" I said. "I'm Iranian with an alpha personality, an Engineer and Muslim in that order, and I just know that if I had a girlfriend I'd not want 'my' woman flaunting her beauty to men," Bee shrugged, "I'd find it distasteful, and I just know that there is no way I would ever feel comfortable about her wearing in public the kind of revealing clothes that go for normal female attire here." "You're a Muslim chauvinist Bee!" I said with a smile. "Which is a bit rich, after all you ignore hijab (modest dressing) and dress western. In jeans and lose sweatshirts like me." "Yeah twisted aren't I... But after ten years of hijabs, long lose dresses and chardors, which I hated not just because it defined who I was but more importantly what I could be, can you blame me?" "No, I guess not," I said trying to decided how to ask the question in my mind. Bee read the question on my face and said, "What?" "Don't take this the wrong way Bee but you always dress and act in a masculine manner, I don't think I've ever seen you in anything that could be classed as even remotely feminine gender specific." "I guess I shied away from that style of dressing when I arrived here because I had just about enough of that sort of gender indication thing as a child, and now I find I feel more comfortable dressed like this," She let out a snort of a laugh, "In a masculine manner," "Well it suits you," I commented. "And kind of matches your body language, which is very masculine most of the time Bee." "Yeah, I was always getting told off about behaving like a boy at school," Bee had a very introspective look on her face when she added, "I always thought it came as a kind of unconscious defence mechanism to ape my dad and push away the sort of men who found me attractive as a girl but now I am not so sure?" "Didn't work with me," I half laughed, "But may be that's because I'd give just about anything to have to dress and act in the kind of gender specific manner you despised being forced on you." "Trust me if I could swap on my X chromosomes for your Y, I'd do it today!" "If you could I'd willingly swap!" I laughed. May be she heard something more in my voice because she asked looking at me curiously. "Have you considered getting treatment Sam?" I blushed brightly and admitted, "Yes... I've thought about often and I know I can't go on like this forever... sure being here with you and my course has held it at bay...," I could not bring myself to admit just how black my thoughts had got during the hell of school. "Held what at bay?" "The darkness," I said, and I was almost in tears when I admitted. "Its why I don't drink... when I drink I get depressed and when I get depressed I've thought about ending the pain." "Don't you fucking dare think that!" Bee said in horrified English! We fell silent for a moment before Bee changed the subject and went back to trying to explain her messed up sense of self. As she spoke she pulled my mind back from the darkness that lurked in my head. I was astonished to recognise that a surprising amount of she was saying reminded me of things I had felt and thought when I was younger especially when she commented that when she did have to dress up for college dinners she felt like a 'fucking transvestite,' but I decided not to comment yet. Eventually Bee returned to her primary gripe about how much she missed home, while at the same time loathed that fact that when she was there she had to put up with all the requirements about having to cover her hair, wear lose clothes and behave in a ways that she hated. Her tirade amused me and I said shaking my head. "Oh Bee!" She looked at me grinning at her and said. "Yeah I know. Kind of messed up aren't I. I find attractive the kind of women I have to be when I'm home in Iran." "The traditionally dressed and minded type of girl," I said with a nod. "Yeah," she muttered, "Its not fair, why can't I be me!" Bee fell silent for a moment before saying. "You know the worst thing about it Sam... That's knowing that even if I met the kind of girl I desire that even if she was interested she could never be with in me," She must have seen the 'how do you know' question in my face because I got as far as saying, "How," before she explained. "A girl like that would not and could not be in a relationship with me as I am now because it would be haram (sinful) to lie with another woman, and if I was a trans-man what could I offer a such a woman? She would want children and I could not give her them or provide her with pleasure of creating them..," She shrugged and said in English, "Looks like we're equally fucked up!" Bee glowered into space for a moment before she shook herself and gave me a blushing apologetic smile as she said, "Sorry about the language Sam but I get so pissed off about it sometimes." "Its okay I've heard worse," I said smiling at her. After a sip of her tea, Bee smiled and asked curiously reverting to Farsi, "So tell me have you ever dressed as a girl here?" "Fully? She nodded. "No, not since I left home. On nights when mum was in hospital getting her chemotherapy I would dress in her things," I admitted. "And since I got here I've gone through cycles of buying a few things and then purging them," I explained what I meant and said. "It's like a vicious circle I buy things then get frightened of someone finding out and purge the lot before starting again..." "But if you could dress as a girl openly you would?" I blushed and nodded. "Yeah..," Even though she now knew my secret it was still hard for me to talk about it but I forced myself say. "You know after mum died and I got some insurance money I was so tempted to go to a place in Newcastle that I found on the internet that offers a dressing and photo shoot service for CD's but I could not afford it." Bee nodded and commented, "Pity you didn't" She smiled and patted my thigh. "Because I am kind of curious to see what you look like as a girl... With your height, lack of beard and slender figure I bet you'd make a pretty one." Reassured, I babbled, "I decided instead to save the money and at end of term I bought myself some things on-line when you were away," I pulled a face and added, "Which as usual I later purged," "What about just now?" Bee asked with curiosity burning in her eyes. "Post purge depression," I said. "Well next time you buy girl things," Bee chuckled. "I want to see you!" I looked at her in surprise which made her laugh. "I'm serious!" The conversation halted momentarily before I plucked up the courage to ask, "You mentioned about becoming a transman, had you considered it before tonight Bee?" "Lord no! Before tonight I did not even know it was possible so it never occurred to me... Sure I knew that men in Iran who felt they were women could ask the state to change them but I did not know women could go the other way until I saw it on that documentary," We sat there for a moment and then I asked the fateful question that burned in my mind. "And would you transition to a man if it meant you could keep your career and go home with out putting up with all the dress requirements?" I asked. "I'm certainly going to consider it, because I've known all my life that I have never felt comfortable as a woman," Bee said thoughtfully, "I guess until tonight I had pretty much resigned myself to having to live here where I can lead my life as I like, and so it never occurred to me to consider such a route," She pulled a face and added in a grumpy pissed off tone. "Once again my sodding strictly religious upbringing blocked me thinking of such things, even though I've known since I was very young that I preferred stereotypically masculine activities and yet until tonight the idea of becoming a man never figured in my mind. Weird huh?" "Not really," I said damping my excitement, "I was the same until I read about a TS in the paper when I was about 14," Unable to stop myself I asked with a sly smile, "What about in your dreams, have you ever seen your self a a man there?" Bee blushed. "I'll take that as a yes," I giggled, "This might sound a little strange but a lot of what you've said just now chimes with me, if you swing the gender table round and knock five years off discovering that you can undergo sexual reassignment." "It does?" Bee chuckled brightening up, "Well fancy that!" "Yeah!" I said seriously. "Because everything especially that transvestite comment tells me that mentally you're a bloke!" "May be," Bee said uncertainty. Eventually the conversation drifted on to the cultural issues the documentary raised about being Muslim and transgendered before Bee asked out of the blue. "When I'm at home in Iran next month would you like me to buy you the kind of dress I like to see girls wearing Sam?" I blushed and said eagerly nodding. "You mean that?" "Yeah, I would not have offered if I didn't, but I want you to promise me now that if I do, you'll wear all of it for me." "I'd love to Bee!" She gave me an ear to ear grin and said, "You better!" As it was getting late and as we both had a full and busy program for our final week of term to get through and we decided to call it a night as we finished the remaining tea. Bee had numerous meetings and tutorials about her masters thesis, along with making arrangements to start her summer contract when she got back from visiting her family in Iran. She had got a job cum paid six week placement working for the contractors responsible for the north eastern motorway network. I was equally busy at college with tutorials about my dissertation on the forms of Arabic Poetry and a couple of seminars I had to attend. I also had to take a language proficiency exam in Arabic and Persian which if I passed would score me a summer work placement with the local council as an interpreter. Although the pay was not brilliant for the kind of work, it would cover my costs and provide some pocket money with out me needing to break into my savings. Also the experience would stand me in good stead when I finally graduated next year and went looking for a real job. As a surprise the night before Bee flew home she took me out for a big farewell dinner at a Persian restaurant in Newcastle and introduced me to her native cuisine and I've got to say it was lovely! After the meal as we walked back to her car I was telling her how I really had to learn how to cook some of the dishes, Bee said spinning me to face her. "I'll lend you a cook book," and then she suddenly kissed me for the first time! I just melted into her arms and let her take charge... and you know something that kiss was even better than the meal! Getting home Bee told me to make the cha-ee and dashed into her room and came back with a cook book and a tape measure. Laughing, "You can cook me menu three that's vege when I get back!" I nodded saying shyly, "I'd like that!" "I know, and you know what I'd also like?" She laughed, "Your dress size before I go Sam!" Chuckling delightedly to herself she quickly measured my chest, hips and waist commenting. "Sweet, you're almost a perfect 12!" Giving my body a long look as she assessed my shape Bee added. "I think a pair of C cup boobs would look good on you and as I already know your shoe size, I can get you the works!" Setting down the tape Bee gave me a quick kiss and declared. "Just wait, you're going to look so beautiful dressed as a demure Muslim girl for me sweetie!" I blushed and concentrated on making our tea. Giving me another kiss, Bee chuckled. "You know I really I love doing that to you," before adding more seriously. "Weirdly kissing you does not feel quite as wrong as I thought it would. Normally the idea of kissing a boy turns my stomach, but I could kiss you all night!" Blushing I mumbled. "May be it because you know I am a girl inside." "Probably," Bee said adding with a delighted light in her face, "Now where's my tea woman!" "I'll bring it in when you let me go!" I said, adding. "Shoo!" Bee laughed and left me in the kitchen. Quickly fixing a tea tray I followed her into her room and slipped down on the sofa beside her. No sooner had I poured our cups and made my self comfortable that I felt her arm tentatively slide round my shoulder. Sensing the uncertainty in her arm as it slid behind me I whispered reassuringly, "Mmm that feels nice," I could feel my words easing her anxiety about being so forwards as I rested my head on her shoulder. We sat there in a companionable silence lost in thoughts until I hesitantly asked. "Can I see you off at the airport Bee?" "No Sam, I'd rather you didn't because when I get to the airport I'm going to have to change in to my Iranian girl clothes and I don't ever want you to see me like that." I was not happy about it, but acquiesced to her wishes and said with a giggle, "As you wish my lord," Her grin of delight warmed the cockles of my heart for the three and a half weeks she was away. Bee had to be away early and the house felt decidedly empty after she left. There was one bright spark to the morning she left though because I got the confirmation that I had passed the language proficiency test and could start my work placement with the local council the following week. Feeling lonely and in need of cheering up I went and did something I had dreamed of but never had the bottle to go through with before and went to get my ears pierced! The job was not full time only three and a half days a week, but I got paid ?200 a week for my services, which was almost as good as if I had done like last year and taken one the student jobs on offer in town. The job was spent mostly on the phone translating for what ever council service needed an Arabic or Farsi speaker. It kept me busy enough that at first it kept my mind off how much I was missing Bee. Sure I was getting regular emails and photographs from her but that was not the same as being with her and as the weeks progressed I found myself counting the days down until she got back. When I was at work it was not so bad, but come the weekends I was hit by how big a part Bee had taken in my life. To keep myself busy I did all the tourist things I had not done in term time. The museums, the Cathedral and I even went shopping in an attempt to cheer myself up on the second Saturday she was away. As Bee had left me her car keys and the documents I decided to take a run over to Metrocentre in Gateshead and once I was there it was only a matter of time before I decided to bite the bullet and buy myself some more female clothes. In the past I had only shopped on line and it was pretty scary the first time I walked into a women's clothing shop with intention of actually buy myself something. It got easier after the first purchase and once I had made a couple I had my patter sorted out. I just told the shop assistants I was buying a present for my girlfriend, or that she had seen the thing I liked and the staff were more than willing to help me find what I wanted in a size 12. In the past when I had bought female clothing I had always gone for the kind of dresses and skimpy tops and skirts that girls of my age wore, and at first they were the styles I looked at but I could not see anything I liked. I guess rattling round in my subconscious was knowing the sort of things Bee liked to see girls wearing because I ended up buying the kind of clothes that would give me a very unrevealing but feminine look. Thankfully I lived a fairly frugal life and had thanks to my mum's insurance and savings a reasonably healthy bank account because I spent way more than I intended! Taking my time as I browsed round the Metrocenter and eventually bought my self a complete skin out feminine outfit including shoes and by making my purchases over numerous shop I don't think any of the shop assistants guessed I was buying for myself! Well in truth I bought a couple outfits, along with two nightdresses and enough panties to bin my male underpants when the idea later occurred to me! Sometime during the week after Bee went home Kathy the seldom seen third occupant of our landing moved out. Having qualified she had got a new job at Sunderland General and as her boyfriend had moved to Sunderland earlier in the year she had moved in with him. This meant I had the top landing of the house to myself and the freedom to openly dress in one of my new outfits... So I did, and my god it felt good! Looking at myself in the mirror I realised that for the first time ever that I did not think I looked wrong. Now I know this might sound a little strange but in the past when I saw myself in a mirror, the had always been a weird sense of disconnection with the person looking back at me... However seeing myself in the mirror now I felt oddly in-synch emotionally with the person looking back at me! I gave up trying to untangle what I was feeling and just enjoyed the sensation of prancing round the landing as I got used to wearing two inch heels. Making myself a celebratory pot of tea I decided to write Bee a letter. Loving how the longer skirts felt around my legs as I sat down and spent an hour or so basically telling her how much I was missing her. I was tempted to mention my shopping trip but decided to keep it as a surprise for when she got back. Since she left I had been getting regular emails from Bee and they became the highlight of my days. Although her emails were usually cheerful one thing was immediately clear from tone in parts of her letters was how depressed she was feeling about being forced into the roll of the dutiful daughter. Sure she was clearly enjoying being at home and seeing her family but after the freedoms she had got used to in England it was pretty clear that she was not enjoying having to make sure she conformed to all restrictions her gender put on dress and life style. The emails where she expressed her annoyance about it often turned into rants about how unfair it was and I made sure I kept my replies to them as light hearted and humorous as I could. Strangely when her emails tended to turn in to rants about how much she hated being a young available woman in Iran, she almost always included a photographs of the kind of thing she was ranting about. Admittedly she was probably selecting the photographs to tease me as she often commented that she knew a 'girl' who wanted the life she despised. In truth most of her moans were about all the hassles of having to wear 'correct' hijab and abide by a system of rules that deep down she felt should not apply to her! Slowly the days ticked down, and as the date approached for her return Bee had obviously got used to being home because her mood had clearly improved. During her final week away her emails became more light hearted and teasing as she dropped numerous hints about having been shopping for me. Unlike on the way out Bee had not been able to get a direct flight back that fitted with the date she was due to start work and had to return via Saudi then Kuwait. I was half hoping for a phone call on the Wednesday night she was spending in Kuwait city but her flight time meant she had to be at the airport for five am, and the three hour time difference played against us. So I had to make do with an email from her when I got home just after seven in the evening. Salam Alikom from Kuwait city Sweetie. Well its 8pm here and echoing round the city are the words of the Mullah's calling the faithful to prayer... Thankfully my brother in law who's been acting as my mahram (male relative chaperone) has gone to the mosque for prayers so I can chill out and relax with out him getting a hump about something. Its a bit of a pain in the arse that I had to come via Saudi as it meant I had to have a mahram because its illegal for a woman to travel alone there with out a family male escorting them which is a pisser! Anyway I am about to put my head down as I have to be up for 3 AM to make the call for my flight at 5 tomorrow morning. I can't wait to see you and I do hope you keep your promises because I have spent a bomb on you this week, well my mother has! As usual she insisted that she took me shopping for some 'decent' clothes to wear when I get home, my mums such a traditionalist. I'm sure she had to have guessed that in the past that pretty much everything she got me I'd donate to Islamic Relief as soon as I got home, but every time I come back to Iran I can put money on her deciding sometime in the week before I head back to England she wants to take me shopping so she knows I have good hijab! Not that I will be doing the donation thing this time, well not to Islamic Relief anyway! Since this time I wanted to go shopping but as I did not want to give the game away I made sure to lay my usual moans and complaints on rather thickly before we left for the main shopping centre in Tehran. Mother was her usual self when it came to me being correctly dressed so I let her get on with it and pick you a few things. Hehehehe I think I shocked her when I even selected a few things for you myself... Mum was that pleased that I was showing an interest in being dressed as a girl that she even bought me some nice underwear and make up which I am sure you'll enjoy... I wonder what she would have said if she knew that my choices were not for me! As you may have guessed I did not mention that the outfits she was buying were never going to be worn by me, but I know you're going to love them my pretty flower! It been an interesting trip home on so many levels and there are loads of things I want to ask and tell you, but they'll have to wait until I am home tomorrow. I've really missed you and can't wait to see you. So long as I don't get held up anywhere I'll be home sometime around 3- 3.30, lots of love. Bee xx PS. After I got to Kuwait City I had an afternoon to waste so with my brother in law in tow we got a taxi from the hotel into town and went for a walk around Kuwait City's malls. Although its not illegal in Kuwait it still not advisable for women to go anywhere unaccompanied, which was if anything even more of a pisser than in Saudi! Still at least I could escape him by going to the clothing shops and as I was checking out one of the stores I saw this and I could not resist it. Hope you like it because I sure will! Attached to the email was a link to a shop's website showing a picture of dummy wearing a hooded version of one those traditional Arabic overdresses called an abaya along with a hijab, and a niquab! A niquab is the face veil worn by some very devout Muslim women that is causing so much discord in the west. Even though I respected Islam to the point that I had often discussed with Bee about converting and becoming a Muslim, I was not so sure I wholly approved of the wearing of the niquab. Having read the Koran cover to cover on more than one occasion, and studied Islamic teachings and beliefs I knew that women were permitted to show their faces. I don't know how I got through work next day but somehow I managed to get through it with out dropping to many clangers. On my normal half day I tended to hang around after work chatting with the other staff to find out what I would be doing the following week but not tonight. I was out of the door as soon as my last client was satisfied and as my working week was Monday to Thursday lunch I knew we had three full days to catch up with each other once Bee was home. Cycling home like a man possessed I was in a state of excited high anxiety by the time I got in, I had a surprise planned for her and not much time to get things ready! After I had bought my outfit I came up with idea of welcoming her home in it but I knew I did not have the guts to open the front door for her wearing a skirts! After much head scratching I eventually came up with a plan that let me both meet her and still be able surprise her by wearing skirts when I served her a welcome home pot of cha-ee. The only problem with my plan was one of timings I knew I would not have much time to pull it off in but I practised religiously, and felt sure I could do a quick change in the time it took to brew the pot of tea. Grinning with with excited and somewhat nervous delight the moment I got home I dived in the shower and carefully shaved my legs and armpits. Once I was showered I blow dried my hair with Bee hair dryer and tied my hair into a pony tail before slipping into a pair of silky red and back satin panties. Clipping the matching full cup bra around my chest I carefully rolled a new pair of tights up my legs and completed my underwear. Making sure I did not damage the fine nylon on my legs I covered my feminine undies with a thick university sweat shirt, jogging bottoms, and my old moccasin slippers took care of the nylon on my feet. Looking in the mirror I carefully removed my ear studs and wondered how my ears would feel with the pair of hoops I had to replace them when I was changing! I got them the previous weekend while I was in town when I had been doing some food shopping. As I carried my shopping back to Bee's car I had seen in a clothes shop the perfect skirt and top outfit to welcome her home, and I could not resist getting them even though my earlier trip to the Metrocentre had already completely blown my monthly budget! Hiding the skirt and top, along with the bra fillers (made from a pair of cut up tights filled with rice), and my girls sandals in the specially cleaned kitchen cupboard beside a small mirror, a brush, a pair of hair slides and my new earrings I crossed my fingers and hoped I could change with out her noticing what I was doing after she arrived. With everything ready I spent the next ninety minutes clock watching until I heard a taxi pull up outside. Dashing down the stairs I tore open the door and there she was. Giving me a tired grin Bee said in Farsi, "Hello my pretty flower," as I flew into her arms hoping she would not feel my undies! "Ahem!" The taxi driver said interrupting our kiss. "That will be ?24 please Miss." Breaking our embrace, Bee handed me one of her bags and told me, "Pop that in my room and go and make me a pot of cha-ee sweetheart, I'm gagging!" Nodding I walked back into the house hearing Bee telling the taxi driver to keep the change, as she pulled her case from car. A moment later I heard the door close and her calling. "What a day! I am so glad to be home," as she walked up the stairs. "I'm so knackered!" Bee said in English as she reached the top of the stairs. Giving me a crooked grin as I came out of her room she said, "From the look on your face sweetheart when you almost pulled the door from its hinges, you're pleased to see me!" "Pleased doesn't even come close!" I said looking at her as if I was worried she was going to vanish again. Dropping her case with a thud next to her door, Bee grabbed me and pulled me in a long hug before lifting her arm and sniffing her armpit. Pulling a face she said, "Straight after I've had a cuppa I'm having a shower. They allow smoking everywhere in Iran, Saudi and Kuwait... even the airports and I stink of cigarette smoke, airports, trains and travel!" "Oh I don't know," I giggled looking up at her and mock sniffing, "You smell lovely to me!" "You're biased!" Bee laughed. "Now where's that tea?" "I can't make it until you let me go." "Oh yeah!" She laughed letting me lose. "Go and sit down and I'll bring it in," I said for the first time kissing her uninvited. Picking up her case Bee called as she walked into her room, "Hey you cleaned my room!" "Umm yes hope you don't mind?" I said poring boiling water on the tea and rose petals before I started to slip into my surprise. "I don't mind in the slightest, and," she chuckled, "I suppose it's good practice for you to get used to cleaning up after me." "Why is that?" I asked. "Because one day in the future," Bee chuckled, "You're going to be my wife!" "You sound very confident that I'm not going to turn you down," I laughed. Bee chuckled and called. "That's because I know you want nothing more than to be the next Mrs Rahman darling!" Hoping I was doing the right thing while I was joking with Bee I was quickly slipping out of my jogging bottoms, slippers and sweatshirt. Pulling open the cupboard I removed my outfit and quickly slid the skirt up my nylon covered shaven legs before slipping my feet into my new two inch heel sandals and fastened the buckles. Carefully placing the bra fillers into place I slipped the lose top over my head and arranged it over my filled bra cups so it sat correctly before releasing my hair from its usual pony tail. Thanking god I had practised this I brushed my hair into a shape and clipped the sides back with the pair of hair slides. With my hair done I carefully slipped the hoop earring in my piercings and shivered feeling their weight pulling on my lobes as I picked up the tea tray. Blushing brightly as I felt the skirt swirl round my hypersensitive legs I carried the tea tray into Bee's room saying, "Cha-ee," When she saw me the look on her face was priceless! "Oh my god!" Bee gasped in English as she drank in my look, "You look smashing!" "Erm... I wanted to surprise you!" I said, feeling my skirt swishing as I walked over and set the tray on the table beside her sofa. "You like?" "Like! To quote you a moment ago darling, pleased does not come close to it!" The anxiety that had been fizzing in my stomach about my plan eased as she beamed up at me from where she sat with her feet on the table. "I half hoped you would do something like this but I never thought you would!" Bee said as I swept my skirts back and slipped to my knees to prepare her tea. Watching me she saw the flash of the gold hoops hanging from my ears and exclaimed. "Oh wow! You got your ears pieced!" "The day you left," I said, looking at her beaming face. "You look wonderful... In fact all you need is," Bee excitedly reached into her travel bag and produced a large dark blue scarf. "This." Chuckling as she removed her booted feet from the table Bee commented with repressed excitement, "Just as well I stuffed it in my bag once the plane was out of Arabian airspace. Normally I'd forget about it until the next time I flew home but as its handy it means," She reached forwards and unclipped my hair giggling, "I can do this!" I felt her quickly pull my hair into a high pony tail holding it in place with one of the hair clips before giving it a couple of twists and used the second hair clip she fastened it up on my head. Grinning Bee quickly positioned the scarf over my tied up hair and her hands on my head felt lovely as she quickly wound the scarf into place so it finished with a triangle of the fabric resting on my false boobs. Telling me, "Hold still!" I felt Bee pin something into place beside my left ear to hold the scarf to my head and then she sat back and said with that beaming grin still on her face. "Now my darling you are truly perfect!" Curious as to what she had done I turned and looked in the mirror by her bed. Gasping I saw myself wearing a hijab for the first time... and you know something it really did make me look very feminine. "You like?" Bee said with a faint note of anxiety in her tone. "I... I love it Bee!" I said unable to take my eyes off my reflection. "Good!" Bee said firmly. "Get used to it because you'll be wearing one for the rest of your life once you are my wife, Jasmina!" "Jasmina?" "Yes Jasmina," Bee said with a flash of determination on her face, "I have decided that you will convert to my faith and legally become a woman with a wholly Islamic persona, before I marry you," "You sound very sure I'm going to agree?" I said with a smile. "I am sure..," She said just as firmly, her tone was tempered by a look of longing her her eyes, "I know you're destined to be a Muslim... and once you are, you will become a woman and then my wife, and your name will be Mrs. Jasmina Rahman!" I giggled and said deferentially. "If that is your desire!" "It is!" Bee said firmly but the look on her face was wonderful. Handing her a cup of tea I joining her on the sofa and whispered. "I wish I could marry you now and become you wife Bee!" "I know!" Bee chuckled before saying in a more serious tone. "And I know a way you can, but you must understand that I am quite serious about you having to revert first!" I nodded. "Now I know you have thought about it and have talked to me often about whether you should take the Shahada (the deceleration of faith in God and acceptance that Muhammad is his Prophet, which you say to become a Muslim), but now it becomes a necessity! I want to spend my life with you and that means you have to revert. My family might accept that intend to lead a very secular life, but there is no way my father would ever give me his blessing to marry out of the true faith." "I know Bee, you told me that ages ago," I said with a smile. "And you know how often I have thought about saying the Shahada and its not just because I want to be with you," I giggled and added, "Though that does kind of motivate me to become a Muslim sooner rather than later because I know it means that one day I can marry you." "I thought you'd say that!" Bee gave me a grin and said. "Anyway to get back on topic. When I was flying back to Iran I had time to think about all the issues that documentary and your comments raised in my mind. Sat there looking at the people on my flight I realised that you were right about about me and I promised myself if you were serious about taking the transgender path then I want to walk it beside you!" "You really mean that?" Bee nodded saying firmly. "Yes!" "Oh I am Bee! More serious about it than you could imagine its all I've ever wanted, you know that," Then the comment about joining me finally registered and I added with a gasp. "Are you serious?" "Yeah, very!" she said seriously. "On that plane back to Tehran thinking about the issues that had plagued me since childhood all the emotional confusion I had felt since watching that documentary finally coalesced into a realisation that the at the root of everything was this deep seated inability of mine to comprehend or interact as a woman. It was like a door opened in my head through it I saw that like you said, I am masculine," I could tell she being completely honest and I said. "Oh my!" "Which is why I think that from now on when we are together in the house of an evening, and on days when you don't have to go out as Sam, I will require you to always be dressed and behaving in a manner befitting my future wife, Jasmina." "Require?" I giggled. "Yes, require!" Bee said firmly with her eyes alight with both delight and determination to have her way, "Do you have a problem with that Jasmina?" "Oh not at all!" I said feeling like the sun had just come out as I eagerly nodded. "Good!" Bee chuckled. "Because if you're going to be my bride in the future then the sooner you become used to correct hijab the better, and that means until we are married unless it completely unavoidable I don't ever want to see your hair or too much of your body when we are home!" "Yes please Bee," I said stifling a giggle as I demurely cast my eyes down. Bee laughed and said in English, "God you look sexy when you do that! So tell me other than being naughty," she teased, "And going shopping with out a mahram... What have you been up to while I was away?" "Not much other than work," I admitted. "Every one off my course has split for home or summer jobs, so I've not seen any of them. I bumped into your biker friend Pat the other day in town. He asked when you were back because he's having issues with his bike." "I'll call him Saturday morning, so how is the job?" "Good, I'm learning a lot as it's expanding my business vocabulary and I've even once or twice been asked if I was from an Iranian family," I added with a giggle, "According to one of my clients I speak Arabic with an Iranian accent. Wonder where I picked that up?" Bee just grinned as I asked her about her trip. "Pretty good, same as usual I suppose," Bee said her determination to have her way fading as she started chatting about being home for about half an hour before she decided. "I'm going for a shower, pass me that bag you brought in please," She grinned and released me from her encircling arm. "Jasmina." I slipped to my feet and fetched the bag from her bed Bee told me. "I love calling you that! Jasmina it's deliciously Islamic name with out it being to blatant, and I think it really suits you!" "I like it too, thank you for picking it for me, because it's a lovely name," I said passing her the bag. "Lovely like you!" Bee said, opening the bag. Reaching inside she pulled out her wash bag, and some clean clothes. Setting them beside her she gave me a grin and said as she pulling out another bag, "I got this is for you," Squealing, "Thank you," I pushed my lips against hers and gave her a long kiss of thanks. "Mmm," Bee chuckled a