Tonygoodbody forfeit
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Being Myself Is Good Enough For Me free porn video
Being myself is good enough for me
My mom always used to tell me to stay away from trouble. Did I listen to
her? No. Instead it was like was involved in it, a fight here, the
police there, yeah you get the picture. I was born to two god loving
parents, having a Christian upbringing. Every Sunday we would go to
church and I would always have to wear a stupid dress, even though I
hated them. The boys could wear pants, so why couldn't I? "Because you
are not a boy, honey," mom would answer. "Why not?" the argumentative
seven-year-old I would ask. "Because god made you a girl. You don't want
to question his will and desire, do you?" dad would say. I did want to
question his will and desire but I feared my parents and god too much to
ever dare question anything.
I was the only child in my family, my parents decided that one child was
just the right amount of kids for them. Mom had envisioned me as this
perfect girly girl that she could have tea parties and play dress-up
with. The first time she attempted a tea party I threw the kettle at the
wall, breaking it in a thousand pieces, after that we never tea partied
again. Most girls played with dolls, I played with boys. Girls were so
dumb and boring I thought, what exactly was the fun of sitting around
all day gossiping and playing house when you could be outside
skateboarding or climbing trees? I always wore my hair as short as my
parents would allow me to cut it. I hated it when I could feel the hair
hanging on my neck. At home I never wore any of the clothes mom wanted
me to wear. If she put me in a dress when we weren't going to church I
would rip it apart. At one point mom developed a counter-measure and had
us attend one every day, forcing me to dress like a girl every day. Not
until she saw how much I hated it did she stop it. "Fine missy! Wear
whatever you like!" she had said to me angrily.
That was just what I did as well. I was ten years old now and proclaimed
that nobody would ever see me wearing a dress again. That same summer
mother had a freak out when she learned from another parent that I had
been hanging out with a new gang of guys, pretending to be a guy. She
hit me so many times in my buttocks that finally it just stopped
hurting. "You are not a boy! You are not a boy!" she would scream while
hitting me. "But I want to be one," I cried. "This is just a silly phase
of yours and one day you'll thank me for doing this!" she would say to
me as I cried. It wasn't a phase, it never was. Realizing that you were
meant to be a boy and not being able to do anything at all about it was
horrible. Another horrible happening when I were 10 was that I all of a
sudden started bleeding from the one place of my body that I would never
touch. Mom told me that I was starting to grow up into a woman, so that
I one day would be able to have my own kids. God forbid that from ever
happening!
Dad was a bit better than mom when it came to this. "I will always love
you Carol, no matter what or who you are," he would say. Unfortunately
mom was the "man of the house" (paradoxical considering the situation)
and dad never dared to question her. To her it was impossible that a kid
could be transgendered, you were born one way and that was who you were
meant to be, all your other thoughts were pure delusion. Puberty hit me
like a sledgehammer. Mom forced me to grow my hair out and start wearing
bras. "Otherwise your breasts might sag," she said. I wished them to sag
away completely. Girls my own age became even more mysterious, they wore
make-up and started flirting with boys, something I would never do. I
was still one of the guys and I hung around with the same kind of
friends that I'd done since I was in kindergarten. They didn't try to
flirt with me or anything and instead they were very protective of me.
That was basically how elementary school progressed, we all went through
puberty and differentiated into forms chosen by nature. One thing I
hated was how short I stood, all other gang members were now towering
me. I wasn't shorter than other girls but I was shorter than I would
have preferred. Even though I hated it, I wore my hair in a ponytail
halfway down my back and the feminine clothes mom would put me in. My
female ancestors had been quite busty and so were I by now. I usually
wore sport bras, which would make them as small as possible. Although I
hated it, I did look like a girl, a tomboyish one maybe but still a
girl. With that came the teasing from other guys when I wasn't with my
friends. "Dyke!" "Lesbo!" people would call me. Some guys even tried
making advances on me to see if I were only playing hard to get. One guy
who pinched my butt got a kick right in the family jewels and one who
pressed me up against my locker and forcefully kissed me, got acquainted
with my right fist, losing two teeth in the process. I didn't fear those
guys and I were regularly in meetings with the principal both for
hitting others and being hit myself. Some guys didn't find it below
their dignity to hit me after I hit them and I usually had a lot more
than a couple of bruises on my body.
My mom cried and yelled at me for acting like I did, she saw it as me
punishing her by being the way I was, myself. Dad had me take classes in
self-defense so that I would be able to protect myself from the guys in
school. I was never the provoker but would defend myself if provoked.
Usually I got my ass kicked but some guys I managed defeating on my own.
Besides, for the guys who did beat me, I had my own personal army of
three strong guys who had sworn themselves to be my protectors. They
certainly did not like me being hurt by others and would return the pain
tenfold to whoever I pointed out. The gang had initially consisted of
five guys and me but two of them had acted too badly by breaking some
idiot's knees, causing him to be put in a wheelchair for more than a
year, and had been permanently suspended from school.
I wasn't the best student in school but I certainly wasn't the worst
either, my grades were average with mostly 'C's but I did have the
occasional 'A', naturally one of them being in P.E. I never wore a
dress, not even at graduation, much to mom's dismay, but even if I had
wanted to, which was never going to happen, I wouldn't have done it due
to my lower legs being covered in bruises from having been kicked badly
by the school's bad guy. I had gotten in a good punch at him as well and
he sported a clear black eye at graduation. After elementary school I
chose to study mechanics in high school, wanting to become a car
technician. Believe it or not but I ended up being the only "girl" in my
class. Mom told me that I was destroying my life for choosing something
like that. My gang also got split up, only one guy, my best friend,
choosing the same program as I.
The best thing with high school was that mom allowed me to wear my hair
in whatever way I liked, finally giving up on trying to make me her
little miss perfect. I wanted a buzz cut at first but decided that it
was too short for girls to wear. Even though I didn't see myself as one
I decided that I didn't want to face too much social prejudice by being
too boyish. I had my hair cut so that it barely touched my ears and
found that satisfactory. I wore baggy clothes, which covered my so
called "assets" and wouldn't be seen dead in make-up. The only time I
would even dress remotely female was for church, which was the only
thing mom still forced me to attend. My classmates were great guys,
nobody saw me as an object of sexual attraction, which was just what I
wanted. We did what we were supposed to in school and I fit in perfectly
with this kind of trade. The only thing I disliked was that my short
stature limited me slightly from being able to reach the highest places,
forcing me to use a small ladder. I wasn't that strong either but the
guys usually helped me carry some of my stuff for me.
My best friend and I also started spending some time alone in third
grade of high school, going to movies and parties together. Not as in us
dating but as in the two of us enjoying each other's company. At parties
I would at least wear clothes that showed my female body and we
developed this great strategy of me being his wing-girl. Girls would
have me, the dyke as I was called by others, coming up to them and start
chatting to them before he would come up and "save" them from me. Most
nights this stratagem was a complete failure and we ended up going back
together but every now and then it would work and I'd have to ride the
bus back home. My other childhood pals sort of disappeared completely
from my life. They turned out to be really bad company and more than one
ended up in the juvenile hall and later in prison. As for my own
sexuality I wasn't sure, sometimes I would see a girl and feel a little
something and the next time it would be a guy making me feel the same
way. I decided that it was better for me to not get involved in any
stuff like that so I never got further than kissing a girl once.
My best friend, Harold or "Hal," didn't have any problem with this and
even volunteered to go with me to one of those nightclubs for homosexual
people but I always declined his offers, not wanting to commit myself to
something I weren't sure whether I wanted to do or not. I did look like
a guy and usually passed as such in public, which made me happy. I
didn't know whether I was really transgendered or just liked looking and
dressing like a guy. My breasts were a certain minus and I disliked them
being as big as they were. Around this time I discovered the art of
binding my chest, which allowed me to wear clothes that were better
fitting but still not revealing anything underneath. My voice was of
course an obvious giveaway and more than once people had their illusions
of me as a short guy broken. "Wait. You're a girl?!" they would say in
surprise when hearing me. "If you say so," I would reply cryptically.
After high school Hal and I moved away from home and started working in
the same garage. We lived in the same apartment, having separate rooms
of course. My mom completely misinterpreted the situation and thought
that Hal and I were dating. While it was true that he was dating, he
certainly wasn't dating me. He would have the occasional girlfriend and
during nights when she stayed over I would go back home and live with my
parents. Mom would take this as me and Hal having a fight in our
relationship and would run around trying to cheer me up. I know that I
should have told her what was really going on but seeing her act like
that was just too funny. Dad knew the truth and he thought that having
her living in this illusion was probably better than her knowing the
reality, so he never said anything to her about it. Hal always seemed to
have some problems with having relationships that lasted more than a
couple of months but I never knew why.
Not until one fateful night when the two of us had been out clubbing. We
had both turned 21 and didn't have to use any fake-IDs any longer to get
in where we wanted. As a way of celebrating his 21st birthday, he was
three months younger than me, we had gone out and gotten completely
plastered. Neither of us could really walk straight and it was this
drunkenness that got us into trouble. After we left the bar, using each
other to try and support the other to move forward and then repeat the
process for the other, we ran into a gang of three older men in their
mid-30s or so. It started with Hal accidentally losing balance, which
caused both of us to fall and knock one of the men over. Apparently they
weren't that friendly and one of the others pulled a knife out and
pointed it at me. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!" he yelled
at me. I was dressed in guy mode tonight and, perhaps, because of this
it was Hal who took command and answered him. "We're sorry, it was an
accident. I tripped and Carl (my male name) fell too," he apologized.
The guy who'd been knocked over looked at me, "Well, this was an
accident too!" he shouted and punched me in the chest. Oh no!
Of course he could feel that my chest wasn't flat like his. "What the..."
he said as he felt my internal padding partially shielding me. The next
thing that happened was that he grabbed my arms and forced me completely
still. "Cut open his clothes," he told the man with the knife. He did so
and after having destroyed the shirt I was wearing and removed it from
my body they could see my binder wrapped around my chest. After having
cut open it too, making my right breast bleed a little, the man with the
knife said, "He's a woman!" and the next thing I knew Hal and I were
being pulled into a dark alleyway. The man tore apart Hal's clothes too.
"This one's a dude," he informed the other two. He kicked the terrified
Hal really hard and punched him too, making him sink to the ground like
a stone. He didn't move at all and I was scared to death that he'd
killed him. I did something I hadn't done in years and cried. I cried in
fear for Hal's life and in fear of what the men were about to do with
me. Of course I already knew the answer.
"Do you think you can just run around pretending to be a man, dyke?" the
man who'd initially discovered my real sex asked. I didn't dare answer
him. "Well, we'll show you just what you are and get that delusion from
your head. Won't we?!" he asked his friends. "Yeah!" they both replied.
He put his hands around my neck and strangled me, causing me to pass out
from lack of oxygen. The next time I awoke my body was hurting all over,
apparently the deed was done. Everything just spun and I had no idea
where I was at first. I could feel my nether region aching, aching hard.
A couple of minutes, or seconds or hours, later the world stopped
spinning a little and I could tell that I was still outside, probably in
the same alley as earlier and I could feel that someone was holding me.
I feared that it was one of the rapists and didn't say anything to
signal that I was awake. I felt naked and saw that I was just that, not
wearing anything at all. It wasn't until I heard a familiar sounding
voice in my ear crying. "Oh Carol, don't die on me! No! No!" it
screamed. Only then did I realize that the one holding me was Hal.
I tried answering him but no sound came out. Instead I turned around,
which hurt so much that I cried, and looked at him. Once he realized
that I was actually alive and awake, he did something I would never have
expected of him. He kissed me. I blamed it on me being beaten senseless
but I did not react negatively to him at all. He only did it briefly
before lifting up his head and then standing up, holding me in his arms.
I could see that he was badly bruised too, probably from the guys having
beaten him even more after I passed out. He carried me out of the alley
into the street and as soon as we appeared people started panicking. A
man ran up to us and shouted at Hal, I couldn't hear what, my ears were
ringing too much, but shortly thereafter Hal stepped into a car with me.
I passed out again just after I heard the sound of the engine starting.
The next time I regained consciousness was when I were in the hospital,
lying in a bed and seeing everybody rush around the room. I didn't stay
awake much longer. To me it just felt like I closed my eyes for a second
but in reality it was probably several hours. I could see someone
sitting next to me, it appeared to be my mother but I couldn't see
clearly enough. I could however hear that it was her based on her voice.
"Oh honey!" she said when she could see me moving. I tried telling her
"I'm alright mom," but nothing sounding like words came out. She just
looked at me and started crying. Apparently there was something I did
not know that had happened. Soon enough I found out. I had been
strangled so hard that there had been damage done to my vocal cords,
causing them to no longer be able to properly form sound. I was mute.
To make things even worse it soon became clear that I had become
pregnant following the rape. Coming from a deeply religious family and
having grown up hearing that abortion was wrong I too were indoctrinated
with this belief. But at the same time I didn't want to carry a child in
me. That felt so foreign to me that I wanted to puke. Ultimately I
decided to have the baby. The other guy in the picture, Hal, was my
solid rock. Even though I could no longer speak on my own he would read
what I wrote to him and talk back to me. He too was in the hospital at
first and handled all practical details that needed solving. He reported
my rape to the police and I gave a written testimony to them, telling my
version of the story to the police. My story was coincidentally pretty
much the same as he'd given and I confirmed that the sketches Hal had
drawn, he was good at drawing, matched their likeness. My throat was
permanently crippled and I had to start accepting the fact that I now no
longer had my own voice. I started learning sign language, with Hal
learning it too.
Our attackers were never found or arrested, probably having bailed town
right after finishing what they had set out to do. Having a child
growing inside me made me feel more female than I had ever before and I
was really emotional most of the time. As a convenience if anything were
ever to happen to me, leaving my child alone, Hal asked me to marry him.
I said yes. I loved him very much, but not in a romantic way. I did
however realize that having him help me would ease the burden of having
a child significantly. The first few weeks after leaving the hospital we
took care of this business. It was funny to know that I was now legally
somebody else's wife, something I would not have imagined ever becoming
just four weeks prior. It wasn't like married life changed our
relationship much though. We still slept in separate beds and weren't
intimate at all with each other. I was however completely dependent on
him to do everything for me and being married made things so much easier
for us. I stopped dressing as a man from that point on, deciding that it
was better for Hal and me to appear as any other couple in public. I
grew out my hair again and stopped binding my breasts.
I could tell that Hal was having mixed feelings with seeing me looking
more like a woman every day. I could tell that he obviously liked what
he was seeing. We'd never had a problem with walking around our
apartment in our underwear earlier but he completely stopped doing so
after I caught him getting an erection while looking at me. I forgave
him. I knew he liked women and I was experiencing one of the most
womanly things possible, pregnancy. We attended all classes for
expecting parents and he was actually more eager for the next lesson
than I were. He knew that by marrying me he would never get any chance
to have children of his own so he devoted himself to becoming the best
stepfather possible, I would of course assign him as the father of my
child, children actually. My first ultrasound revealed that I was having
twins. I didn't know whether I should laugh or cry after receiving this
information. Hal was cautiously optimistic about me having twins. Out in
public I would now dress like any other woman, even starting to wear
make-up. It pained me a little but I didn't want my kids to grow up
being bullied from having a mother that dressed like a man. Even in our
apartment I couldn't dress like that, my growing belly protruded too
much by now.
They say that feeling a baby's kick was the most beautiful feeling in
the world, to me it felt almost the opposite. 'What have I done?!' I
would ask myself before going to bed every night. When I was just about
eight months along I went into labor. I thought I was going to murder
Hal in the maternity ward. Once my contractions started getting closer
and the pain would start coming he offered me his hand. I grabbed it so
hard that I fractured two of his phalanges in the process. I made as
much sound as my larynx would allow me and quickly became hoarse in my
throat. Luckily it was a rather quick process and I soon found myself to
be the mother of twin girls. Mom helped me a lot in the beginning and
taught me how to care for my children properly. Since Hal was now back
at work 75% of the time I needed the help. Mom and I got closer more
than ever although we couldn't communicate that well, or perhaps that
was the reason as to why we got along so well. I think that actually
behaving like a daughter helped her accept me too.
She would go home shortly after Hal got back home, usually after us
putting on a little play of me, the tired wife and mother, and him, the
proud hard-working husband, acting like we were totally in love. We were
great actors and mom would hurry back home, believing that we wanted our
privacy. We did want our privacy but not for the reasons she believed. I
was learning to sign and it was so much easier having him around so that
we could practice together. We would usually practice, him asking about
my day and me about his at first before moving on to new signs. His
fractured hand didn't affect his ability to either sign or work too much
and we would usually practice until the girls started waking up. I got
really domestic and would usually cook dinner while he cared for the
girls. It really felt like we were just like any other young couple
raising their children. We thought it to be me more of two buddies
raising their children, at least at first. Since I was obviously their
mother I had duties that Hal would never have. I didn't mind having him
in the room while I breastfed Annie and Alice, our daughters, but it did
kind of make the whole "buddy" feeling implode.
Of course he never attempted anything with me but I could notice that
there was more to his kisses while we played pretend in front of my
mother or while we were out in public. I tried acting like he obviously
wanted me to so much, but I just couldn't accept being the woman in a
relationship. We were however too great friends to ever fight about me
not fitting in better in the role of a wife. We raised the girls
together, seeing them grow up from toddlers to teenagers, right in our
little apartment. We had never been secretive about Hal being their
stepfather but neither of us had told them the reason why I'd become
pregnant in the first place. One thing I did miss was that I could never
speak with my children in the same way most parents did. We did of
course teach them sign language and they are both fluent in
understanding it but not in signing it, so I could read some stories to
them at night. We did discuss the possibility of moving to a bigger
place a couple of times but we were both car mechanics and our salaries
didn't allow us to have that freedom. The house I'd grown up in would
have been ideal for us. We frequently did house trade with my parents,
so it never felt like we were living in a too small space. Unlike me, my
daughters were really girly. Being twins they would stay up all night in
their room, my former bedroom, talking about boys. "Do you understand
any of that?" I would ask Hal. He would just shake his head in reply.
Since we, for the sake of appearance, shared the same bed now but slept
on different sides we would occasionally have awkward situations where
we'd crawled up together while asleep and woke up like that. For twenty
years I managed convincing my surroundings that I was just like any
other woman. This all changed as soon as our girls started college and
moved away from home. I found my old binders stuffed deep down in an old
box in our storage room and started wearing them at home every now and
then. It felt strange at first but soon I felt comfortable wearing them
and I informed Hal about me wanting to start dressing up as a man again.
As expected, he had nothing against it. I didn't cut my hair or
anything, since I feared that our kids would start asking questions
about why their mom had shorter hair than their dad. But being able to
dress up every now and then did quite a bit to alleviate my tension. I
already knew that I would never become a man, that wasn't the right for
me to do after all but I did like dressing up as one and fitting into
society as one, it was much better than constantly pretending to be
something I really wasn't.
Hal and I still live together and we will soon celebrate our 25th
wedding anniversary. He has never expressed regret over his decision to
take on the responsibility as being a father of children that weren't
his or being the husband of a woman who wasn't sexually attracted to
him. I don't think I regret it either, I am with my best friend all the
time and we both work in the same garage now as when we were kids out of
high school. We don't earn much but we have some savings put away for
after retirement or in case anything happens to either of us. I am
thankful that I didn't become a politician or anything, my lack of voice
would have made it impossible, but working with repairing vehicles
didn't require much of it since your hands spoke for you. I don't regret
never having had that abortion either, I got two clever girls out of it
that I love more than life itself. I hated carrying them but I didn't
hate watching them grow up. Annie is studying to become a chef and Alice
is becoming a teacher, so they will both do something more with their
lives than I was able to do with mine.
I am not remorseful about never having become "more" than a mechanic, I
like my job and I like working with my hands. I have recently started
wearing glasses, my eyesight not being the same as it was when I was
younger but I can still do my job well and I like my colleagues. Hal and
I are the only ones left that are senior enough to remember the time
before I was raped and had kids and have never thought anything strange
about me. I don't act like anything in particular, I wear my hair up and
dress in my uniform that fits loosely on me, just the way I like it. My
life and my story might not be the most interesting that you'll ever
read but that doesn't mean that it should go unheard of either. I am
thankful for you having read, since I can't speak, my story about how I
went from tomboyish girl to cross dresser to mute mother and then back
to part-time cross dresser. It's a life like any other and I am proud of
how I've lived it and how I've made the most of the opportunities that
I've been given in life.
Lynne
- 29.07.2021
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