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The Real Me free porn video
The Real Me
By
Tanyalynn
I think I should make something clear at the beginning. In belief I am
Christian Conservative. People seem to have trouble reconciling this
with the fact that I am also transgendered, but I have made my peace
with it. I have already done a story from a different perspective, so I
think I can do this story without any attacks on other beliefs. If you
can't stand any story from this viewpoint without attacking it on that
basis, then you probably shouldn't read it. But for me, this is a
resolution of some of my own questions, and of course, some of my hopes.
I hope you will enjoy.
I opened the door to my apartment, and immediately my cat was all over
me. Nahla was a huge white and gold mix of who knows how many breeds,
but she loved me. She wasn't happy that I was gone for a couple of days
at a time at work. I dropped my bag on the chair by the door, and
petted her until she calmed down. I got a can of Fancy Feast tuna and
dropped in her bowl, to give me enough time to settle in. I dug out the
change of clothes that I took with me to work out of my bag, and tossed
them in the hamper, set the books I had taken to read on the table, and
stripped off the clothes I had been in for a day. If this sounds like
some kind of ritual, it was. I had been doing it pretty much the same
way for the last five years. I have had Nahla almost as long as I have
worked this shift.
I stopped and petted Nahla, and pulled some clean clothes out of the
drawer. Unlike what I had worn to work, these would be my true self.
My first day home on Monday, I was usually too tired to think about
anything else, so I put out a sports bra and panties. I then got into
the shower. I wasn't much one for baths, so I took long showers. After
a weekend of being Tom, it would feel good to be myself again. I washed
myself a few times with Caress Scarlet Blossom body wash and by the time
I was done, I felt and smelled more like myself. I liked to use Teen
Spirit Pink Crush for some reason. I had tried it on a crazy whim once,
and liked the smell. Some Jasmine body spray, and I felt back to
normal.
Nahla was already rubbing up against me, but I put her out of the room
until I could get dressed. I put on the panties and bra, and then got a
t- shirt and shorts out of the drawers. I looked in the mirror, at the
strange combination that looked back. I had the combination of the face
of a man, and when I didn't have it covered over with loose clothing,
some of the features of a woman. I had been prescribed hormones for a
couple of years a few years ago, but had to quit taking them due to
health reasons. They had been one of a number of possible causes for a
blood clot, but I couldn't take a chance on using them again. I have
had it brought up over whether I was a serious transsexual because I
didn't find another way to get them, but I'll go into that later.
I was too tired to do much, because of my job. I am in charge on
weekends at a Christian homeless shelter. I ran the place basically
from Saturday morning until Monday morning. At 55, I had more
experience with the subject than most people ever would. I was born
into a good family, but into the late 60s and early 70s I had a problem
which I had no context at the time to understand. In fact it gave me a
lot of rage. I didn't really understand the conflict inside me between
seeing a boy on the outside, but feeling like a girl on the inside. I
can't say how much I knew I was a girl, because again, there was no
context. But, I had a lot of rage that I didn't know how to deal with.
I did get some girl's clothes from various sources, and did feel
comfortable wearing them for reasons I didn't understand. I've only
started to really understand some of that by exploring it with a
counselor I really trust for the first time ever recently.
What really started a downward spiral was getting caught. I didn't get
caught dressed, but my stash was found. I remember my parents being so
upset at what they couldn't understand either, but I already thought I
was a freak, so I wasn't going to help. They sent me to a psychologist,
but it didn't help, because I didn't trust him either. Besides, it
didn't take me long to find an alternate. The drinking age in my home
state at that time was 18, and I looked that at late 16. It was a
pretty easy escape, and I managed to cover it over long enough to
graduate high school. But then, I realized just how bleak my future
looked.
I had barely gotten out of high school, and had no real hope for the
future. This was still the mid- 70s though, and the romantic idea of
taking off on the road looking for something better was still alive.
So, one night I packed my old boy scout backpack with some stuff, tied a
sleeping bag on it, and walked out to the nearby interstate and stuck
out my thumb. There had to be something better somewhere else, so I
figured I would go there to find myself.
I did a lot of things to survive over the next 17 years. One thing I
didn't do much was think about being a girl. Drugs and alcohol helped,
especially LSD and mushrooms. I did think once in a while about what it
would have been like, but it seemed I was having to be too macho. I
returned home a few times during the first several years, but I didn't
bring up the clothing, and neither did they. When I left the last time,
I realized that it was just too painful. I never looked back for over
ten years.
For around five years after I left that last time, I seemed to lose
myself, both in the sense of who I was as a man, or even who I really
was. I got into running a drug business, and although we were honest
for the most part, we could be ruthlessly efficient. Although there was
a softer side to me, I only let it out at times with the closest of
friends. The only bright spot was during a time when I was away from
the business for a while. A friend had left some stuff with me while
she went to jail. I lived in a cheap hotel room at the time, but it was
my own space. Being around Brandy's stuff awakened old feelings in me
that drugs couldn't hide.
It was wrong, but after a while, I couldn't quite resist it. First, it
was a pair of panties. Then, I started wearing them all the time. She
was a small woman, so I found that with the fleshy man boobs I had
always had, one of her bras fit fairly well. Then it just seemed to go
on from there. One of my worst moments came though, when someone saw me
through the room's window. I didn't stay around for any of the
ridicule- I left the stuff behind and never went back.
I was back in the business again, and one night I had eaten a lot of
mushrooms, which we had originally gotten to sell, but instead decided
to keep and eat ourselves. These were extremely potent ones called
Cubenzas. I remember falling asleep after thinking about dressing in
Brandy's clothing. She had been 19, so a lot of it was teenager type
stuff. I started to wonder for the first time freely what it would have
been like to be a teenage girl. I guess between the mushrooms, and some
image I might have seen somewhere, I started thinking of a girl with
dirty blond hair and blue eyes like I had when I was a teenager. I
wasn't sure where the thought came from, but she wasn't like model
looking or anything. She was pretty, but not more than average. It was
really bizarre in that she had on an outfit I remembered having in the
stash when I was 15, although I certainly had never looked like that.
It was a grey tank top with a black skirt. Unfortunately, I fell into a
deeper sleep, and the image was gone.
For years, I couldn't remember that experience again clearly. It was
like the ghost of a dream, something that haunted me, but could never
bring back. From the pinnacle of success, feeling on top of the world,
I barely escaped when the drug business collapsed. I was back on the
streets, in a worse state than ever before. I had decided to rededicate
myself to God, and really meant it. I wish that meant it was easy to
get myself out of that life. It took five years to finally arrive in
the place where I would achieve that in 1994.
I had been to the place where I would get off the streets at several
times before. This time when I went there, I was convinced I would
never get off. I had given up and frankly, wished God would take me
home to Heaven, because he was obviously done with me here. Tanya was
so deeply buried that she was some deeply buried dream. But, then I
found the program. I had been staying at the shelter where the program
was at. This time I wasn't interested, but had become friends with one
of the staff, who talked me into it.
The program was good, and got me really going after God. But, being
sober and straight also had a side effect. Part of being wasted allowed
me to not think about my female feelings. I kept those to myself, but
managed to not only complete the program, but get a job. When I got the
job, I was really starting to think about when I graduated, and what it
would be like to have my own place. I did get my own place, and had
some money saved up. I started to think about whether I would just stay
where I was at with the female side, or start to explore it. I was 36
by then, and I just didn't know what to do.
I guess by then there were ways to get support, but I didn't know any
way to find out without the internet back then. When I moved into my
own place, I decided that I had to explore myself. It was kind of funny
looking back on that, remembering the first time buying first panties
and bras. I went to discount and thrift stores because I had no idea
what sizes I was. It is a wonder that I was never seen by anyone I
knew. Once I got those established, I started buying clothes, with the
same problems. I don't think I understood why I was at first attracted
to both adult and teen style clothes. I had some outfits that were just
what I would see teenagers wearing if I could get them. I guess later I
would realize that I was longing for the chance to be a teen girl that I
never had.
I don't know what might have happened if I could have afforded to stay
by myself. But, I lived in a really bad place, and the opportunity to
move in with a roommate was too tempting. She was nice, but I knew that
I couldn't dress when she was around, even though this was a huge old
house. I kept some stuff around, but then my parents came out to visit.
I had started communicating with them while I was on the program, and
when they came, I still couldn't tell them. By then I had a better
understanding of who I was, a woman in a man's body, but I didn't have
the heart, because they were just so happy to see me.
When they came, I didn't think logically, about finding somewhere to
stash my stuff. I threw it away. Then questions came- could I really
be a girl if I could give it up that easily? This would happen again,
when they came out there the next year. Then they gave me a ticket to
visit Florida, where they had retired to. In my travels, I had never
been in the area where they lived. It didn't take long for both of us
to figure out I should move there. But during that time, I had a
falling out with the roommate, who I had lived with for two and a half
years at that point.
For a couple months I was back in survival mode. I lived in a place too
tiny to even move around. I never stayed around the place much, so I
didn't even bother to try to be myself. By the end of that time, I felt
like I was going insane. I didn't realize at the time, but a big factor
was that I hadn't been going to Church. I was ready to start smoking
pot again, just stay sane.
But God had another plan. I saw an ad in the local paper for the winter
shelter that the place I went through the program at ran for the city.
I called, and was immediately offered one of the top jobs, because the
same people were in charge as when I was there. Within a couple of
weeks, I had found a new apartment, and discovered that an old friend
who I had lost touch with was going to be working with me. I quickly
realized that God was in this, because a staff member at the mission who
I became friends with turned out to be an assistant pastor at a church
several blocks from my new place.
I settled into the new place, and my old feelings popped some, but I had
buried them pretty well out of necessity. Then, they came roaring back.
In my new place, I lived right around the corner from the laundry room.
The first time or so I went in there, everything was normal. I only had
to go every couple of weeks, so I'm not sure when it happened, but the
next time I went in, I saw a pile of clothes on the table. They were
adult women's clothes, but I didn't look at it beyond seeing a couple of
pairs of panties on top, and what looked like a nightgown. I went in
there a few days later, to do a separate load, and they were still
there. I also noticed that when I came home late at night from work
that the laundry room wasn't being locked like it was supposed to be.
That all together did it.
A few days later, I slipped in there when I came home from work and
grabbed a pair of the panties. If they hadn't fit, who knows what would
have happened next. But, they did. I wore them the whole next day, and
thought if they fit, maybe some of the rest of the stuff would. I took
a couple of loads of laundry in the next day, and when it was dry,
dropped it on the pile of clothes and then put it all in my hamper. I
don't know why I was so paranoid, because no one was really watching.
When I got inside my apartment, I immediately dug out the clothes. I
tried on the nightgown, which was a tight fit, but wearable. There were
a couple of blouses that would fit, but the bras were too small. But,
by now I was caught up in it. I had been shopping in the discount store
that was near my house before, and started all over again to find the
right sizes, but managed to over a week or so. I didn't have a large
apartment, but it was my home, and I truly experienced being able to be
Tanya when I wanted, at least at home. At first, I gravitated to
younger style clothing. I didn't understand that, because I thought at
the time that I should be wearing only clothing of people in their late
thirties, which I was. Again, I was lacking any guidance, so I didn't
know that at least some of the time, I just wanted to be the teenage
girl I had never had a chance to be.
This blissful period ended when I moved to Florida. I was renting a
room from my parents, then in a Christian house, then back again. I
threw myself into church and Bible school to avoid thinking about it,
but I began discovering the internet. I had figured out finally that I
was transsexual, but couldn't deal with it in any way, because I was
just too scared. I completed Bible School, feeling like I was living a
double life.
But when the call came asking if I wanted to return to New Mexico to
work at the place I had gotten off the streets at, I didn't hesitate.
And, it didn't take long to return to my old routine. I found other
places I could shop at, and was comfortable in that I had a larger
apartment than before. The first trip my parents made out from Florida,
I had to actually rent a small storage place, but this time it was worth
it. Then after a few years here, everything changed.
I found a website that was supportive of the transgender community here,
and then found a therapist. I had always thought the cost would be way
too much, but had good insurance and was surprised to find out that she
was covered. After some sessions with her, she steered me towards an
endocrinologist. Again the insurance covered it, because I had a
thyroid problem. It was a big leap of faith and guts to take hormones.
I took them for several months, before an old problem with swelling in
one of my legs caught up to me. I was sure that it wasn't related, but
when she told me I had to quit taking them, I listened.
I then went through one of my worst periods. Physically, I was ill for
most of a couple years. I was barely able to work and not do much else.
The last year of it, I got hit with several bouts of not being able to
eat over one winter. I had been extremely overweight, and so I never
noticed much if the hormones had done anything for me. With a lot of
weight gone, I noticed very quickly.
I had been buying bras for breasts that were bigger, but fleshy. Once
that was mostly gone, I still had breasts, but for real, somewhere
between an A and B. And, I had an ass so to speak. This suddenly made
me very nervous, because I had something real to conceal. I also had to
start buying new clothes for Tanya too, not just my male body.
God was good to me in that right about the same time, I found a
therapist who was also a minister in the denomination I had settled
into. The church I went to didn't approve of LGBT in general, but
unless they were pressed on the issue, didn't bring it up. The
counselor helped me in a lot of areas. I was the one that brought up
what was the biggest question bothering me but thought was too weird to
ask anyone, even online.
I finally brought it up one day. I asked her, "When I die and go to
Heaven, will I be a male or female?" I don't think I was doubting that
I was a woman, but there was something that caused me to wonder about
that. The counselor helped me to work through the thought process for
myself. In the end I told her, "I believe that I will be a woman, and
personally I believe in the theory that everyone will be thirty or so.
The one problem I am having is I can't imagine what I will look like."
This was true. I had always had a problem with that, imagining myself
as a literal woman, what I would look at. I had the vision or
hallucination of years before, but that was if anything, me as a
teenager. Then one day, something happened. I was looking through a
magazine and saw a woman. She was in running clothes, and standing on a
bridge leading to some stairs that went up a mountain.
The background wasn't important to me, as the woman in the picture had
me almost hypnotized. With her hair, and reasonably athletic build, she
looked about like I might have. In the article, it said that she was
thirty. I knew it wasn't me or anything, but I saved the picture. I
knew that I finally had a frame of reference as to what I probably would
have looked like.
Things started to get more violent at work. Working with the poor and
homeless can be very dangerous. It's a concept that a lot of people
understand on one level, but don't really get it all until they see it
happen. Plus, there had been a couple of workplace shootings in our
town. The combination of things led to a class being held by the
retired cop that was in charge of security. A plan was created, along
with all the other plans for natural disasters, fires, and everything
else they thought could happened. I had been in on the development of
some of them myself, because I had lived through a few of them. There
was a sense of real possibility to someone armed going nuts there.
Basically, he said it came down to fight or flight. It was a natural
response, so you had to be ready for either one. I had always been a
fighter, so I knew I would go after an attacker. It had gotten me in
trouble before at the shelter.
I had always known that I wasn't going to die quietly in bed. It was
something that didn't terribly bother me, and I knew it would be better
than dying a slow death of an illness or something. I just figured when
the time came, it would come. But when the dreams started, I didn't
know what to make of them.
I was at the shelter one night sleeping over and dreamed I was in the
courtyard. I was talking to some people when I saw a woman. She looked
like the woman in the picture to some degree, but not identical. She
had on a pair of jeans and t-shirt like a lot of the homeless people,
but not literally. She went up the ramp into the building and I went
after her. I couldn't find her. I checked with security at the gate
and no one had come in that looked like her. Then I woke up.
It was pretty eerie, but I didn't think too much about it. I had dreams
like that sometimes, pulling things I had read somewhere and mixing them
with real life. But, I had some more. She would be dressed differently
in each one, but always smiled at me and never said anything. This
happened over the course of a month or so. Then one night, before I was
supposed to go to work, the dream changed. This time we were both on
the bridge that led to the stairway up to the mountain. She said, "The
time is almost here. You need to be ready. There will be great danger,
and do what you know is right."
I knew I sounded frustrated when I said to her, "What is going to
happen? Why am I in danger? Who are you and what is this place?" She
said, "You know who I am, and very soon, we'll climb the stairs and
you'll see."
I looked at the stairs, and tried to see where they went, but all I
could see was a cloud. It was a great cloud, with thunder and
lightning, but no rain. I turned back to the woman but she was gone.
When I woke up, I found I was crying but wasn't sure why. I wasn't able
to sleep again that night.
I got up, even though it was way before time to catch the bus down to
work. I read the Bible for a while and prayed, and felt the presence of
the Holy Spirit as strongly as I had ever felt it. I showered and
caught the bus. When I walked into work, I felt a strong urge to share
the Gospel again with some guys on the program who I didn't think were
saved. This just kept on until we opened up the day shelter after
lunch. I told the two security people that came in to really watch, as
I had a bad feeling.
I had gone back to my office when I heard the radio we used to
communicate suddenly come on with the voice of the person at the gate.
He was yelling, "Gun, he has a gun!" I ran across the alley to where
the main building was. Once I was outside, I heard what I knew were
shots. I figured I could get closer inside the building, with its
multiple hallways and doors. I called one of the security people on the
phone, hoping she was okay.
She answered and said, "Do you have a gun?" I said, "No, I had never
been Okayed to carry one in case of an emergency." She told me to meet
her in the dining room, as she had managed to get me something.
I could hear that the shooter had gotten into the main lobby. Security
had opened one of the doors into the interior of the building to give
people to run, but the shooter was coming closer too. I finally saw
Security and she was carrying an Asp. An asp is my favorite nickname
for a telescoping wand. I had carried one in my daypack for years when
I was on the streets. She said, "I remembered you telling me about
using this, and one of our guests turned it in when he came in today. I
just don't know what you're going to do with it."
Frankly, neither did me. I said, "We have to get me close enough to him
for an ambush so I can use it. We have to draw him into the halls."
She said, "If you're crazy enough to go after him, I guess I'm crazy
enough to be bate." We hugged, and then she let me into one of the
offices right around a corner in the hall. I told her, "You've been a
little sister to me since you've been here. If we don't make it, I'll
see you on the other side of the bridge."
She gave me an odd look, but nodded and took off. I didn't know where
that had come from right then, but it just sounded right. I heard her
yell something, and then shots. She was fast, which I guess was why she
volunteered, but when she came around the corner I could see she had
been hit, somewhere in the arm probably. She didn't even look at me to
give me away.
When the shooter came around the corner, I made a mistake. I hadn't
known he was going to be as big as he was, and only grazed his gun arm
the first time. He fired a shot down the hall, but I don't think it hit
anything. The second time I hit him, but when he dropped the gun and
howled in pain he came up with a gun in his left hand. I stabbed out
with the heavy end of the asp, going low for his groin and connecting
with something. He yelled in pain, but managed to bring the gun around.
He fired and I felt a huge blow to my side. I went down, but landed
near the gun he dropped. I rolled away, but got hit again in my right
leg. I fired, not knowing if it would do anything but distract him, but
it hit him in the leg. I saw that it was a revolver and had 2 shots
left. I knew this was it, I couldn't let him go on. I stood up for a
better shot and fired as he fired. I felt a punch in my chest, but with
everything I had, I raised the gun one more time and shot him in the
head.
Suddenly I was falling. All my strength had gone into that last shot.
I didn't much feel myself hit the floor. The security woman was
checking me out, trying to figure out how to stop the bleeding. I told
her, "Just make sure he's dead. Then worry about me." She said, "Oh,
he's dead all right. Your last shot took him right through the head.
But don't you die on me! You have to live."
But, her words were getting fainter. Suddenly I was on the bridge. She
was standing there, in a radiant white dress. I didn't even have a
sense of myself. My body was just a physical shell. She took me by the
hand and said, "Come on, it's time to go. As we started up the stairs,
I thought about how my old body, with all its old injuries and arthritis
would have never made the climb. I looked back and saw a faint view of
the paramedics shaking their head as they knew I was gone. The shooter
was dead and I had saved as many people as I could. Sometime during the
climb, as I was focused up, I realized that the woman was gone. As I
climbed, I felt the rustle of the dress around me, and realized that I
was finally her, the real me.
One of the first people to meet me at the top was my Dad. He said, "I
wish you had told me in life about who you really are, because you are
absolutely beautiful. There are some others here who are waiting for
you." There were others who I had met along the way who I had never
seen again, and was happy to see that some of them were who they really
were too. I thought, "I guess you never know who might have to be
hiding who they really were."
Then I saw him, the One I had always longed to see. The One who had
been my savior and friend, and also my God. With tears streaming down
my face, I ran to him as there was applause. I finally understood about
the idea that there was truly rejoicing in Heaven when someone comes
home. I would forever be able to be the real me.
As I said at the beginning this was definitely written from a particular
viewpoint. I also debated making it less of a narrative and adding more
dialogue, but realize that I like it that way. As always, constructive
criticism is welcome. At least with submitting this story, the creative
juices are flowing. For anyone that liked the Wildfire story, part 2 is
coming through my head as fast as I can process it, along with some of
the other stuff I stalled on a long time ago. Peace.
Nadene
- 11.12.2021
- 13
- 0
