High Functioning free porn video

In the distance, "Have you seen Jordan?...She's not up yet? She never wakes up late." "Jordan honey! Time to wake up," you heard as you also felt a slight pat on your back. You didn't respond immediately, you wanted to sleep for a little while longer, but the light was already on in your room. Apparently, it was time to wake up. You heard footsteps leave your room. Several seconds later, your eyes opened. You were in a bed obviously. You raised your head and could see the comforter draped over your body and your foot sticking out from under the comforter. The comforter was mostly white with purple and cyan streaks in roughly square patterns. There was one problem, you didn't recognize the comforter. There was also something else wrong, it wasn't perfectly in focus. You hadn't needed glasses when looking at near things before. To your left, there was a lacquered wood-colored nightstand with a lamp upon it. You didn't recognize the stand nor the lamp although, like most people, you had similar items by your bed at home. You reached for the eyeglasses on the table and put them on. as with everything else, the glasses weren't yours. They were brown classes in a roughly curved rectangular shape. Yours were wire framed, but you put them on regardless. The room came into focus. It wasn't your room. You looked the room over. Past the night table in the corner perpendicular to the bed was a desk with a monitor, a keyboard, and a mouse. Presumably, the actual PC was on the floor next to or under the desk, but you couldn't see it as the nightstand kept it from your view. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look around. Looking down the bed lengthwise there was a wood-colored entertainment unit that stood at least six feet high. It was approximately four feet past the foot of the bed. The entertainment center was dominated by a TV with a 32-inch screen. There was also a DVD player and a speaker inside the unit. At the foot of the bed on the right in front of the TV was a window with white horizontal blinds. They were closed to keep the sunlight out. To the entertainment center's left, standing about half its height was a chest of drawers. The drawers were in a three-by-three formation with many items on top of the chest. You could see that a drawer or two were slightly ajar with clothes sticking out of the top. Above the chest of drawers hanging on the wall was a light-colored drawing in a wood frame. You couldn't make heads or tails of what it was supposed to be a painting of. In the farthest corner directly opposite of you there was a full-length mirror attached to the back of the door. Next to it was the room's light switch. Next to that was a closet, the doors of which were shut. This brought you back to the computer desk. The room was approximately 18 by 15. It looked about the same size as your own room but you couldn't be sure. You hadn't any desire to measure it out. You knew that it wasn't your room though. Nothing inside the room was familiar. "Jordan, hurry up, church is in less than an hour. Get dressed," you heard from the same voice that awakened you. "Church? You don't go to church," you thought. You didn't answer the voice. Instead, you looked down at what you were wearing. You were wearing a navy-colored pair of pajamas that had the heads of Mickey and Minnie Mouse on the upper chest. Mickey on the right and Minnie on the left. They were looking towards the center of the shirt. You pushed the comforter away and saw the rest of the pajamas. The pajama pants were the same color as the top. It was fastened with a drawstring that was tied into a knot. It didn't penetrate to your consciousness that there wasn't a fly hole as all pants made for men have. "Where am I? What am I doing here?" Looking more closely at the nightstand by your bed, you saw an iPhone. It looked similar to yours except the case that surrounded it was different. You instinctively reached for it and put your thumb on the base to activate it. It recognized your thumbprint and lit up. You saw the standard icons, instead of the screen that requested your ID code. The phone recognized you. Apparently, it was yours. You looked down at the recent calls. You didn't recognize any of the numbers nor the names. There were Mom and Dad entries, but you didn't think they were your parents. The other names you didn't have a clue about. Next, you looked quickly at the message section. You didn't know who the people messaging you or what they were talking about. There was also a purse on the nightstand. You hesitated before looking inside, but You hesitated before looking inside, but due to the circumstances you couldn't resist. Inside the purse you found a tan wallet. It obviously wasn't yours but you opened it up anyway. The first thing you saw was an ID card. It wasn't a driver's license, it was a state-issued identification. Oddly, it had your picture on it. It wasn't exactly your picture. You were wearing glasses in the photo. Something you never did if you could help it. You didn't wear glasses on the photo on your real driver's license. You took the ID out of the wallet to look closer. It listed the state on top, which was correct, and then some sort of ID number under that. Your last name was next in capital letters. That was correct: BAIRD. Under that was your first and middle name also in capital letters: JORDAN TAYLOR, also correct. The address listed, 526 Hillcrest Street, was your address. Under that in small letters was Sex, but instead of M as you expected, it listed your Sex as F. You were shocked. You looked at it again It definitely said F. Next to that was height, 5' - 10" was right. Eyes BLU correct. DOB 05/13/1994 (you are 26.) Expires was next, 05/13/2028. (The ID was valid) Issued: 03/19/2020. It was apparently issued about two and a half months ago. There was a star with a circle around it. You knew that meant you could use this to enter a plane and leave the country. Under your photo where you almost missed it, was your signature that was undeniably your own. There were also holograms and seals to prove the authenticity of the card. On the back were the appropriate bar codes and such, not that you knew exactly what they meant to the government. "What the fuck is happening here? Am I a girl?" You had to look for yourself. You pushed the top of your pajamas out of the way and wedged the pajama bottoms away from your body to look down. You saw your penis underneath your underwear. The underwear you were wearing were plain white panties, but that didn't register to you. You were just happy to see a penis in your pants. You walked diagonally across the room to the mirror. You had to see yourself. You looked exactly as you expected, except for your glasses. You had never worn glasses like this before. You took them off your face to inspect them more closely. Your vision immediately became blurry. You couldn't see well without them. Your vision had never been this bad before. It was the only real physical change that you noticed. You replaced them on your face and looked again, this time taking your time to look yourself over thoroughly. Everything looked exactly as it should. "Jordan, dressed yet?" You didn't reply again. "Jordan!!! Are you dressed?" Ten or fifteen seconds later, the door to your room opened. You had to step back as you were staring at yourself in the mirror. "You aren't ready? You haven't even taken a shower! Are you sick?" The woman who was in her fifties was looking right at you. You had never seen her a day in your life, but she obviously knew you. She obviously thought she was your mother. She probably also thought you were a woman too. "But..." "No buts. I'll help you." She opened the closet door and grabbed a white robe. "Here," she said handing it to you. "I don't know if..." "You take a shower and I'll pick out what you should wear." The woman who thought you were her mother wasn't treating you like your mother would. That is if you still lived with her. She was treating you like you were much younger. "Go on now, scat!" You left your room and headed down the hallway. You could hear the woman mumbling to herself. "What is with her today?" The house seemed to have the same layout as your own. The decor was different but the layout was the same. You found the bathroom and went inside. You put the robe on top of the toilet lid and then turned on the shower. "What should I do?" You heard the woman (your mother) calling from outside. "Don't forget to shave your legs and armpits. You have to wear a dress to church. Also don't you dare eat anything, you're taking communion today!" "This is getting worse and worse," you thought. You hadn't gotten into the shower yet even though it was running. "What's going on? What am I going to do? Should I really shave my legs?" You strip off your clothes and decide to take a shower. "What harm could it do?" But you determined to not shave your legs. You had never in your life and you weren't going to today. Now that you were fully naked, you saw that your body was exactly as you expected it. Your penis was there, that was obviously the first thing you checked. Your legs looked muscular, well not muscular precisely, but as you expected them to be. They were your normal 'male' legs. Your chest was flat. It even had a bit of hair on it as it was supposed to. You were never that hairy, but that didn't bother you. The only soap in the shower stall/bathtub was liquid soap. You liked bars, but there wasn't any around. It didn't matter too much. You squirted some in your hand and washed. You weren't too dirty, but what did that matter, you always took showers in the morning. It was odd (odd was too tame of a word, but what other word could you use to describe what was happening.) Waking up in someone else's house and being told by a woman who thinks they are your mother to take a shower. What do you call that: odd, weird, bizarre, off the wall, bat- shit crazy? You showered quickly, dried off, and put on the robe. It fell to just above your knees. You then returned to your room.. "Jordan, didn't I tell you to shave your legs!!!" the woman scolded. Most of your hairy legs could be seen below the robe's hem. "Go back to the shower and do it now and hurry!" she demanded. You hesitated. "I think I'm feeling sick," you lied. "I don't think I should go to church today." "What's wrong?" "I have a bad headache." "I guess. You can also have breakfast if you aren't going to church." "Maybe later." You returned to your room. Your bed was already made. You recognized the comforter. You saw for the first time that the pillowcase was purple which matched the comforter. On top of the bed was the outfit your mother expected you to wear to church. The clothes were still on their hangers. The centerpiece of the outfit was a sky blue long sleeve, knee-length, a-line dress with a crew neck. It came with a thin brown belt which was laid on top of the outfit. Also laying on the bed for you were white panties and a t-shirt bra and tan sandals with a small heel. None of those things surprised you. What you hadn't thought about was the gold hoop earrings and the necklace with a gold cross. Tights apparently weren't necessary. You put the dress back into the closet. You didn't know if it had a special place. As for the panties and the rest, you put on top of the dresser. You got back into bed. You wanted to explore your room some more, but you would have to wait until everyone had left for church. You were naked except for your robe. Should you at least put on the panties? Best not to, just lay in bed and feign being sick until you can think of what to do. The woman, from now on you'll think of her as 'your mother' in this narrative, entered your room again. She had some toast and juice. "I thought you might want something easy on your stomach to eat." "I guess so." "I also brought your morning pills. Take them first." "My pills?" you thought but you didn't say. "Do I have to take them?" "Of course you do. You know what happens if you don't. Do you want to have to go back to the hospital?" You didn't know what the pills were for or what they would do to you if you took them. You didn't want to take any medication. You looked inside your mother's hand. You saw four pills. "I'll take them when you get back," you said hopefully. "No, you'll take them now. You mustn't overlap your morning pills with the pills you take later in the day." "There are more pills?" you thought. "I think that..." "You have to take them. I don't care if you have breakfast, but you have to take your pills every day. That was one of the things they taught you at your class." "I don't want to." "I'm going to wait right here until you take them. You don't want me to have to call Mrs. Gottfield do you?" "Who is Mrs. Gottfield?" you thought. "Ummm, no," you said. "Do you want to go to the hospital right now?" Mother said thinking of something else. "NO." "Then take your pills." "I feel nauseous. I'll throw them up." "We'll deal with that when and if it happens. Honey, you have to take your pills. Besides one of them is an aspirin. It'll help relieve your headache." "OK, I'll take the aspirin." "You'll take them all." Debate was pointless, Mother wasn't going to leave until you took 'your' pills. She gave them to you and made sure you swallowed them. Apparently, you had tried to trick her by not taking the pills before. When she was satisfied, she left, she still had to get to church. You got back into bed and closed your eyes naked except for the white robe. "If you need me, phone," she called out as she left the house. You got out of bed and decided to look around. On the walls were several paintings, some looked 'homemade' like they were painted by you. These were the ones that weren't framed. You didn't remember painting any such things. There was also a collectible display case wall curio cabinet hanging on the wall. It contained several small knickknacks like little wooden rocking horses and the like. You got out of bed and looked around. You saw at the foot of the bed on the floor several large wicker baskets. One contained scores of plush animals. One contained books, papers, and tote bags. There was another with other miscellaneous items. On the dresser, there were the remotes for the entertainment center, hand cream, hand sanitizer, a brush, some papers, and a picture of you with the woman who said she was my mother and presumably my father. Not that you recognized either of your parents. Your family was smiling in the picture of course. You were wearing the glasses you had on now. The underwear and socks your mother picked out for you were also on top of the dresser. It was obvious that you wouldn't find any male underwear here so you put on the mostly white bikini panties to keep your dick from swinging in the wind. But you hadn't any plans to wear nor did you need to put on the bra. You are as flat-chested as any man. The drawers were closed except for one. Folded clothes sticking up past the top of the drawer kept it ajar. Looking through the drawers, it was obvious that all the clothes were made for women. You found a green short-sleeved t-shirt with a crew neck that said Binghamton University in white letters and a pair of jeans. You put them on too. They fit you adequately. In the closet was what you expected, a few dresses, some skirts, dress pants, and other assorted tops on hangers. On the upper shelf were several books, on the floor were several pairs of shoes and sneakers. Hanging on the wall by the computer were two framed diplomas. One was your high school diploma. you recognized it instantly. You had never had it framed though. Next to it, from the College of Mount St. Vincent was a college diploma. It said that you had completed the VIP (Vocational Independence Program) three years ago. It had all the proper seals and formal lettering to make it look official. But you hadn't graduated from such a school nor such a program. You sat down at the computer and booted it up. When it came to the password screen, you typed in your password and it continued onto the main page. The wallpaper on the screen was of you and some man who was a couple of years older than you were. He was hugging you tightly as if you were in a relationship. The picture made you smile. Soon, the computer was completely booted and you used Google to find out what the VIP program in the college of Mount St. Vincent is. You read the information. It said: "The Vocational Independence Program at the College of Mount Saint Vincent (CMSV | VIP) offers students with various learning abilities and styles a unique, immersive college experience, combining community and campus inclusion with rich engagement in academics, career preparation, and student life. At the College, VIP is expanded to encompass not only vocational preparation but also campus and community inclusion, and opportunities for participation in campus life for every student, among the traditional college population. " "What?" you said out loud without realizing. Continuing it said, "This highly competitive program welcomes applicants, ages 18-26, who may have previously received special education services in high school, who desire and have the ability to navigate and live on a college campus under college-level supervision, and who seek to expand their academic, career, and social enrichment as an engaged member of the Mount Saint Vincent community. All students will reside on campus in a fully inclusive, integrated residence hall with same-age peers." Then it listed under specialties, "Autism, Learning Disabilities, Special Education, Employment Training, Social Skills, Independent Living Skills, College Experience Programming, Executive Functioning, Post-secondary Transition, and College Life " "They think I'm retarded?" you thought. "I'm not, I'm normal!" But then you calmed yourself by realizing "they think I'm a girl too and I'm not that either." You put on some socks and sneakers. They fit you fine and left your room. The house's layout was familiar, but not the furnishings. You exited the house and looked around. The neighborhood looked just as it always had. It was also obviously your house, but it was painted a different color. The fence that surrounded the property had never been there before. Once outside, you realized it was your home. You decided to return. You hadn't any place to go anyway. You inspected the inside of your home more closely. It was truly your house, but it was as though your family had moved out and a new family had moved in. Everything was moved around. You didn't recognize a stick of furniture. You didn't recognize the photos of yourself. It was you, but it wasn't. You hadn't been to those places, you hadn't worn those clothes. Those weren't your real parents and friends with you. Returning to your room, you determined to find out more about yourself. You looked through your Facebook page. You looked at the "About" part of Facebook. It didn't say much about you. It listed the year you graduated from college (the VIP program which never happened) as well as your high school. It was correct about the high school as it said you attended Adelphi High School during the correct years. It listed that you worked at the local Stop and Shop. You had never worked there although you knew the store well. You had shopped there hundreds of times. It listed your town properly. It also had your birth date correct. Only your gender was incorrect. Facebook said you were female. It listed all sorts of family members. You didn't see a listing for your real older brother. Facebook did list several people as your siblings, but most likely they were only friends. You knew lots of people who liked to list their best friends as sisters or brothers. But the biggest surprise was that it said you were in a relationship with Matthew Zubeck. You couldn't help but smile at the name. You scrolled over to the Photo section and found scores of pictures of you with people you had never met before and at places you never went. You were mostly smiling in each photo and wearing the same glasses you had on now. You even saw one with you wearing the same Binghamton University shirt you were wearing at this very moment. "Strange," you thought, "why would I be wearing this, I didn't go to that school in either reality." While looking through Facebook, your cell phone rang. You picked it up. The name, Justine Rubin was one of 'your friends.' Calling her 'your friend' was similar to saying that you were in your own room or this was your computer or the clothes you were wearing were your apparel. You didn't know this girl and didn't want to talk to her. You turned the phone off so you wouldn't be disturbed again. Most of the pictures were of you with girls, presumably friends possibly the one who had just phoned. The most recent photos were of you with the man who was on your computer wallpaper. There were several of them mostly taken from the same location. When you looked closely at the man, you could see that his face was off. He was obviously autistic. You thought he looked cute though. He had a gorgeous smile and expressive eyes. You scrolled down the pictures and saw you becoming younger and younger and doing many things you hadn't remembered doing. The same group of girls were always around you. There were occasional pictures of your with your 'parents' too. But not many of those. You read through your posts. There were the usual posts one finds on Facebook. One with Snoopy and Woodstock hugging, with the name of my 'boyfriend' on top with the caption "I will always be there for you." Under that was a post, "The Mets won tonight yeah I have the best boyfriend ever." There were many posts where you changed your profile picture to one of you with your boyfriend. Another said "Happy 2 month anniversary to the man I love Matthew Zubeck you are the most amazing boyfriend ever I love you so much, baby. You are so cute baby and I love spending time with you. Thank you so much for always being there for me and you make me feel happy and loved. " It went on like this. The typical posts of a young woman. You didn't remember posting any of them. Although the poster was right, Matt seemed to be a very nice guy. You meant something much more expressive but you refused to let yourself put into words what you were really thinking about Matt. The posts conveyed a more accurate description of what you thought about him. You left the computer to see what else was in your wallet. There was $23 in cash and the ID card you described before. There was also a card that said in case of emergency call and it listed your 'mother' and 'father' as well as their phone numbers. You looked through the business cards that were contained in the wallet. There were cards for doctors, a psychologist, a physical therapist, a social worker, a dentist, a hair salon, and the Stop and Shop (place you worked). There was also the picture you had seen a moment before on Facebook with you and your 'boyfriend' Matt. You heard the front door close. Mom and Dad must be home. Mom came into your room soon thereafter. "I'm glad you are feeling better," mom told you. "Thank you." "Since you are feeling well, I can drive you to work at two." You knew from your investigations that you are working at Stop and Shop. "Sure," you answered. "I'll make lunch. Want tuna?" "Tuna's fine." "Great." You were done with your investigations. You knew enough about this person's life. Or is it your life now? You really didn't know what to do. You couldn't tell your mother what had happened. You didn't know if she would believe you. Plus what would you do if she did? This was still your home. It's not like you could go back to your former family. They should be living in this house with you. If they weren't here, then where were they. There wasn't a way for you to find out. You assumed that even though your mother didn't look like your real mother, she was living in her house and she probably had her name too. "Jordan," your mom called out. "Matt is on the phone. He wants to speak to you." You had turned off your phone and he couldn't get a hold of you. He called your mother to find out what was wrong. You didn't want to speak to your friends, but Matt was different. You felt an undeniable love for him. What was written in those posts was true. You really didn't know him, but that didn't mean you didn't love him with all your heart. That he wasn't the best boyfriend ever. That he wasn't the cutest, most considerate, most handsome person ever. You couldn't help how you felt about him. You needed to speak to him, to listen to his voice. You couldn't help how you felt. It took several seconds before you realized what you were thinking. You were a guy, a straight guy, how could you feel those things? But you did. You ran to get the phone. "I couldn't get a hold of you. I was worried," Matt explained. "I'm so sorry. I turned off my phone." "Don't do that. I love you so much. I hate when I can't talk to you." "I love you too. I won't do that again. I don't know what I was thinking. What did you want to tell me?" "Just that I love you and I was thinking about you." Hearing those words made you smile. You felt the love through the phone. You were tingling all over. Matt is the best boyfriend you could ever have. You knew that. You loved everything about him. It was obvious from how he spoke that he was autistic. But you didn't care. You knew he thought you were autistic too. He might not like you if you weren't like him. You couldn't let him know that you really weren't. He probably would be intimidated if he thought you weren't autistic also. "Everyone thinking you were an autistic girl would be worth it, just if you could be with Mat," you thought. "He is the most amazing, thoughtful, caring, loving, smart, sexy, and romantic person you knew." "Honey, you have to get off the phone now," your mother reminded you. "You need to finish lunch and get ready for work." "Just a few more minutes," you told her. "OK, but hurry." You and Matt weren't talking about anything important.. But it felt wonderful just to speak with him. Eventually, you got off the phone, ending the conversation with "I LOVE YOU MATT." Then went to your room to get ready for work. "I LOVE YOU MORE," was Matt's reply before hanging up. You didn't know the first thing about working at the Stop and Shop. But you assumed it couldn't be too hard. After all, everyone thought you were autistic. You went to your room and didn't know how to dress for working at Stop and Shop. You logged onto your computer and found the Stop and Shop website. That should have a picture of an employee. It wasn't easy to find a picture of the employees. The website mostly had pictures of the products which were on sale. But after searching for a while, you found the photo you were looking for. It was of an employee who was wearing a yellow apron over a black shirt and pants. "That must be the uniform," you hoped. You looked in your closet and found the apron. There was a name tag attached which said Jordan. "Perfect." You paired the apron with black pants and a top with long sleeves and put them on. You noticed your purse still sitting on the nightstand. It was a black, rectangular shoulder bag with a long strap. Inside there were various items, but you decided not to take the bag. Instead, you simply took your keys and your wallet along with your iPhone and put them in your pockets instead. "Mom, how do I look?' "You're not going out like that?" "What's wrong?' "You aren't wearing a bra." You looked down at your flat chest. You didn't need a bra. You didn't know how your mom knew you weren't wearing one in the first place. But you trudged back to your room to find one. You picked what looked like an ordinary bra and put it on. The label said it was size 34D. You didn't have D-cup boobs. You didn't have any boobs at all. But you put it on. "Is that better?" "Very much so. Do you have everything?" "Yes?'" "Your wallet and keys?" "Yes." "OK, then let's go." You followed your mother to the car and let her drive you to the store. "I'm glad you are feeling better. What was it?" "I guess just a little headache. I think I'm fine now. It must be the aspirin. Thank you mom." "Great." Then mom made small talk as you made your way to work. You didn't say much. You were thinking about Matthew. You loved him so much. You couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to do anything to screw things up until you could be with him. You didn't even worry about returning to your normal life let alone about trying to do a job you hadn't any training for. You got out of the car and walked towards the entrance. A girl you didn't know, dressed as a Stop and Shop employee walked right up to you and hugged you tightly. "Jordan, I thought you were sick." "How did you know?" "You weren't at church. Your mom told me." "Oh, I'm feeling better now." "What's new?" the woman said. "Not too much." She gave you a look. "What?" "You know, begins with an M..." "Oh, Matt. I talked to him this morning. I'm going to see him Tuesday." "Is that all?" "He told me he loved me." "He always does that." "I don't care, I love hearing it. I love him too. He is the sweetest boy out there." You weren't lying. You believed every word you said. This was the first time since this all started that you didn't have to be guarded about what you were doing or saying. "I just can't wait to see him Tuesday." You followed her into the store and mimicked her movements. You checked in and found out your assignment for today. Most of the people there were protective of you since they knew your problems. If you had a question, you felt like you could ask those around you. This was something you would never do when people thought you were a boy. Regardless, the work wasn't hard at all. You didn't have to do any heavy lifting since you were a girl and you didn't have to do any heavy thinking either as you were just an associate. Throughout the day, you would send messages to Matt. The message was either "I am thinking about you," or "I LOVE YOU." You waited for the reply. The replies got you through the day. Your biggest headache was your bra straps which kept slipping down your shoulders. You wondered if it was so much trouble because you had the shoulders of a man or that you didn't have boobs to weigh down the cups. After work, you had to wait for your mother to pick you up. You wished you had a car. But that was impossible, you didn't have a license, not now anyway. There was little to do, but to wait at the curve. She would be here soon. "I'm sorry, Honey. There was traffic," your mother informed you. She drove you home. On the way, you messaged Matt for the umpteenth time. "You are the best boyfriend, you told him. "I LOVE YOU!!! :P " "I'll love you forever," Matt messaged you back. "I can't wait to see you." "Me neither." You subconsciously readjusted your pants to be more comfortable during the chat. When you got home, dinner was ready. Your mom had prepared it before, it only took a moment to heat it up. "Take your pills first," Mom reminded you. "I don't want to take them." "The doctor said you should take them with food." "I mean I don't want to take them anymore." "But you have to take them." "What do they do?" "You know. We've been over this." Then she listed your various ailments. They included both physical, emotional and psychological problems. "I think I'm all better." "Only the doctor can make that determination." "What?" "Only your doctor can tell." "I know myself. I think I'm alright." "Just take them now. When we see the doctor, she'll tell us if you still need to take them." "No, I'm going to stop taking them now." "You can't do that." "I'm an adult. I can do what I want." Mom knew that legally you weren't an adult, but she wasn't going to bring that up. You had been legally declared under the guardianship of your parents. "I'm sorry Honey but you have to take your pills." "I won't. Also, I've been thinking. I want to learn to drive." "Drive? What brought this up?" "I think I should be able to drive. I don't want you to have to drive me all over or to take buses." Mom believed that you didn't have the attention span to drive. She believed you could get distracted so easily and then you would be in a wreck. You could hurt yourself or hurt others. It was negligent of her to let you drive for yourself. But this wasn't the time to discuss that. "If you don't take your pills, then you can't learn how to drive!" Mom said indignantly. "I'm going to stop taking my pills and I'm going to learn how to drive." "What's gotten into you today?" "Nothing." "We'll discuss it after dinner." "Fine." You started to eat. The food was tasty. Mom apparently was a good cook. When you were finished you went to your room. Mom came up a short time later. "Honey, will you take your pills now?" "No!" Then mom had an idea. "If you don't take your pills then I am going to take away your phone privileges" "You can't do that. I won't let you." "I can suspend your service." "No!" "I don't want to do it, but you have to take your pills. It's doctor's orders. We can see her and see what she says, but even if she agrees with you that you should stop, I'm sure you can't do it cold turkey. She'll have to ween you off of them." "What does ween mean?" "It means he'll have to do it slowly over a long while." The threat of suspending your cell service which would make it impossible to talk to Matt got you to relent. You reluctantly took your pills. Your mother made sure you swallowed them. After dinner, you went to your room and got out of your work clothes. You were most pleased to get out of that troublesome bra. It was tight around your torso, but at the same time, the straps kept falling off your shoulders. You found a pair of Minnie Mouse pajamas (different than those you were wearing this morning) and logged onto your computer. You contacted Matt through Messenger. You chatted with him for several hours. He made you feel good. You wanted to tell him about your day (how you woke up in someone else's life) and the problems you were having with your mother. But you didn't want to upset him. You certainly didn't want him to think you weren't his Jordan. You loved him so much. The other Jordan, if there was one, didn't deserve a man like Matt. He's the best! You woke up late the next morning. You went to the bathroom to pee, brush your teeth and your hair, and do the usual things. Then to the kitchen to have breakfast. Mom was on the phone when you got there. "Do you know who that was?" Mom asked. 'No." "That was Mrs. Greene. She said there was a problem with you at work yesterday." You recognized the name. Michelle Green was on one of the business cards in your wallet. She was apparently your social worker. "What? Everything was fine yesterday." "That's not what she said. She said your supervisor called her and told her you were daydreaming. That you had to be told over and over where to be and what to do. You couldn't keep focused." "That's not true!" "So she is lying to me?" "It's just that." You couldn't tell your mother that you really aren't the Jordan Baird who is her daughter. That you are really a man. If she knew she would think something was really wrong with you and then you wouldn't be allowed to see Matt. You had to see Matt, he was the one good thing in all of this. You never knew a person could make you feel so loved as Matt did. "It's what?" "Nothing. I'll do better." "Have you already stopped taking your medication? You know saying you are taking them but not?" "No, I've taken all my pills." "I don't know. I'm calling Dr. Morris and making an appointment for tomorrow. We'll get to the bottom of this." Dr. Alisa Morris is your therapist/psychiatrist. She was always the first to be called when there was a problem. She monitored the medication you are on as well as which specialists you should see. "NOT TOMORROW! I've got to see Matt tomorrow," you begged. "I'm sorry, but you can't see Matt until this is all cleared up. I don't like the way you are acting." "But I have to see Matt." "I'm sorry." "I just have to," you started to cry. You couldn't help yourself. Your heart was aching. "Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but something is wrong. We have to get to the bottom of this." "Can I see Matt after we are finished with Dr. Morris?" "If the doctor says so and we aren't done too late then OK." You determined to be "a good girl" from now on. You had to see Matt. You just had to! "Did you take your medication this morning?" Mom chided. "I'm about to take them now." "Good girl." You saw your pills on the table in a plastic cup, poured them in your hand, and swallowed them one at a time with some soda. You finished breakfast quickly, went to your room, and phoned Matt immediately. "This is killing me to say," you told Matt, "but I have to see the doctor tomorrow. I might not be able to see you." "Oh no, I've been looking forward to your coming over." "Me too. I love you so much. But there was a problem at work and my social worker was called, now I'm in trouble." "Why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't want to worry you." "You can tell me anything. I like worrying about you." "You're so sweet. How did I get so lucky to have you in my life?" "Maybe it was your Fairy Godmother?" "Yeah that's it," you giggled. You talked for a long while. Matt made you feel so much better. "Honey, it's time to get dressed. You're working today," your mother told you as she entered your room. "But I thought the thing with Mrs. Greene." "No, you still have your job and your shift, but you had better be very alert today." "I will. I promise." "Good, now get off the phone and take a shower and get dressed. I'll take you when you are ready." "I have to go now. I LOVE YOU." "Bye, I LOVE YOU MORE." You hung up the phone and got ready for work. It was easier this time, as it wasn't the first time. You knew what to do and what to expect. You took the robe from the closet as well as a pair of panties from the drawer. You knew where everything in your room was now. You walked to the bathroom to get ready. The first thing was to pee and brush your teeth. Everyone thought you were a girl now, so you sat upon the toilet to pee. It really wasn't any big deal. You needed everyone to think you were normal so you could get to see Matt soon. Not that you remembered or cared about wiping your dick after peeing. You turned on the shower and washed up. While showering you remembered what your mother said about shaving your legs. You decided to do that. It was the first time you had ever done so. In the end, you did nick your legs quite a few times, but there wasn't anything for you to do about it now. You dried yourself off after the shower and combed your hair. No one said anything about you having such short hair or having a boyish hairstyle. You didn't worry about that too much. Returning to your room, you fetched the clothes you would need for work. You grabbed a bra first, that was mandatory. Then you went to the closet to get a top and pants. As long as they were black (and for the pants they couldn't be jeans) anything would do. You had even seen employees at the Stop and Shop wearing black leggings. You wondered if you should do that. "What the hell," you thought and returned to the drawer to select a pair of leggings. You also found a shirt that was appropriate there also. They were pretty lax with the dress code, black clothes under a yellow apron with your name tag was fine. You could even wear sneakers if you wanted. Most associates did because they were on their feet all day. Very little sitting jobs in a supermarket. You took your pills at the kitchen table without having to be reminded. You ate whatever your mom made and was on your best behavior. On the way to work, you texted Matt and told him that while at work he couldn't contact you or you would get into trouble. "I'll miss you all day," he texted back. Then you ended your messaging with the usual. "I LOVE YOU!" and "I LOVE YOU MORE!" The day at work was uneventful. You did everything anyone asked of you. You didn't have any problems. You even took your medication at the appropriate time, during your lunch break. You were determined to be 'a good girl'. Your mother picked you up after work. "Mom do we have to go to the doctor tomorrow? I promise I'll be good. Let me see Matt instead." "I'm sorry we have an appointment. Besides Mrs. Greene and your supervisor already filed a report, something has to be done." Your mom had lied. She knew something was wrong and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. She did love you. You were her only child. Later when your phone rang, you thought it was Matt, but the phone ID said it was Marisa instead. Marisa Bortell was one of your friends that you didn't know. You saw her name and picture while you were inspecting your life on Facebook yesterday, but other than that you didn't know much about her. You debated not answering the phone. In the end, you decided you had to answer. You had to seem as normal as possible if you wanted to see Matt. "Hello?" "Hey girlfriend, how ya been?" Marisa asked. She didn't have a lisp in her voice exactly, but you could tell by how she talked she was as autistic as people thought you were. It made sense that all or at least most of your friends would be as mentally challenged as you are. "OK, I guess." "Come on tell me." "Tell you what?" "About that boyfriend of yours? Tell me what's going on there?" Marisa wanted to know about you and Matt. She wanted to know how your relationship was progressing. You were all too happy to tell Marisa all about it. You told her about how you were supposed to see Matt tomorrow, but it had to be called off because of a doctor's appointment. You didn't tell her why you had that appointment. You told her all the times you talked with Matt and everything you talked about. You told her everything. You even repeated yourself several times. Marisa didn't mind, she was one of your best friends. She was happy to hear things were going well for you. Your conversation with Marisa started a chain of conversations as the details of your relationship were being spread to all your close friends. "What should I wear?" you asked your mother in the morning. "It doesn't matter. Whatever is comfortable. The doctor is going to run a full spectrum of tests. It's going to take a while. You might as well be comfortable." "OK." You wanted to give a good impression. Maybe you should wear a skirt or something pretty. You had to convince the doctor that you are perfectly fine. Maybe if you do well they'll take you off the medications. You hoped so. But you would do anything just to be with Matt. Being apart from him was tearing you apart. You loved him so much. After showering, you looked to get dressed. In your mind, being a good girl was equated with looking good. You decided to dress up nicely. As far as underwear was concerned you picked out any old pair of panties and a bra. It didn't matter to you. Next, you decided you would wear a skirt so you picked out a pair of pantyhose to go with it. You sat on the bed and tried to put them on. It wasn't as easy as you thought, but you did manage to get them on. Looking in your closet, you weren't sure which skirt went with which top. "If they were the same color, then they probably could be worn together," you surmised. You chose a skirt and top that were both a light cyan color and tried them on. They seemed OK to you. Finally, you put on some shoes. White shoes would be best with a light-colored outfit. The shoes you chose had a small heel which seemed to be right too. You wanted to put on a necklace or maybe some bracelets, but you didn't know what was appropriate with this outfit. You never were a girl before, no matter what everyone thought. "How do I look?" you asked your mother. "You look beautiful...but you didn't have to go to such fuss. I told you to be comfortable." This was the first time anyone had ever called you beautiful. At least to your face. Matt had said such things many times over the phone or in text messages. You liked being called beautiful. "I'm comfortable. But, should I change?" "No, it's fine." You went to the doctor's office and waited to be called. Your mother had already told the doctor what's the problem. This was the first time you were wearing typically feminine clothing. You wore a bra and panties for the last two days, but the panties weren't much different than male briefs. They were cotton and white. The bra was different and you didn't like it, but that was hidden under your shirt. Only a small bump from the cups could be seen. The shirts and pants you were wearing were mostly unisex. They were nothing special, but today you were wearing a real blouse with a v-neck and puffed sleeves with a skirt. Your legs were clearly covered in pantyhose. There weren't any doubt you were dressed en-femme for the first time in your life. Even your shoes had a girlish style and heel. They weren't just sneakers. No one gave you a second look in regards to your feminine outfit. You wondered for the first time since you were wearing shoes with heels, "Am I walking like a girl?" Probably not, since my hand isn't flapping loosely in the air and my butt isn't wiggling." It didn't matter much anyway. No one cared. You didn't see the doctor immediately. Instead, nurses and technicians administered the various tests. You weren't told which was used to assess which skill. But the tests did assess things like: 1) How do you listen and pay attention and what you understand. 2) How do you eat, dress, and practice personal hygiene. 3) What household tasks could you perform. 4) How do you interact with others. 5) How do you demonstrate responsibility and sensitivity to others. 6) How do you use your hands and fingers to manipulate objects. 7) Can you complete tasks without getting distracted. and other skills... There were also specific tests for your unique health afflictions based upon previous assessments. The testing took all day. Each test was done at its own time with you and your mother waiting between tests. A nurse also took a blood, urine, and hair sample for lab testing. While you giving the physical samples, your mother was discussing the results of your test with the doctor. Dr. Morris was giving your mother the complete information on your condition without holding anything back. Welcome Jordan," the doctor said as you entered her office. "I hope the assessments weren't too much of a bother." "No, they weren't any problem at all," you said with a smile. You wanted the doctor (and everyone else here) to like you. "Great, everything looks good. You're in about the same condition as the last time I saw you," the doctor announced. You didn't know what to think. You wanted to seem normal. But normal for you as far as the doctor was concerned was of an autistic girl. What other problems the girl was supposed to have, you didn't know. "Great! Mom does that mean I can see Matt tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. "Sure thing." You jumped out of your seat and hugged your mother. You were going to see the love of your life tomorrow. All you had to do was to continue to be good. When you calmed down you asked, "and the medications. Do I still have to take them?" "You have to take them now, but I'll check your lab tests and let you know in a few days." "OK." You were on cloud nine as you left the office. You messaged Matt right away. "I can see you tomorrow. I CAN'T WAIT!" All was set, tomorrow you could go see Matt. It was the happiest day of your life. Despite seeing Matt tomorrow you talked to him for hours tonight. "Hey, Jordan, when you come, can you wear that red dress?" Matt asked. "Which red dress?" you asked as you went to your closet to look at your clothes. There were three or four dresses that were red or reddish. You didn't know which one. "I don't know how to describe it. It was the one that you wore when we went to Allison Park last spring." You didn't remember going to the park with Matt, but you did remember seeing yourself in a red dress with Matt in your Facebook photos. You looked at the pictures there. You found several of you and Matt in that red dress at Allison Park. "I know the one," you told him. "Let me see if it's still in my closet. It was there, you smiled broadly. "I have it! "Great, will you wear it?" "Of course, anything you want." When it was time to get dressed, not only did you wear the red dress, but you found everything else that went with it. The dress, the thin belt, the shoes and you were wearing tights on that day. You also found the necklace you were wearing and the barrette you wore in your hair. You wanted to look exactly as you had because Matt liked you that way. Since the dress was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, when you took your shower you shaved your chest as well as your underarms. You wanted to look perfect. You wished you knew what lingerie you had worn, but there wasn't anyway to determine that from the pictures. You looked in your lingerie drawer and found a pair of red satin panties in a bikini cut. You didn't know if this was the panties that were worn on that fateful day, but these panties were certainly red like the dress. You decided to wear them. This was the first time you put on panties that weren't plain white granny panties that looked like you old briefs. You had never worn red underwear, never mind anything that was as smooth and shines as these were. "Mom," you called, "can you help me put on some makeup?" "Sure thing." "I want to look like this," you said as you showed her the picture of you and Matt from last spring. "I can help you with that." What happened during the date you weren't sure. You were just floating on air just being with him. You felt so loved and in love while with him. It didn't matter what you did. All he had to be was be with you. You weren't allowed in his bedroom, of course, his mother was always home. But as long as he held you you didn't care where you were or who was around. Time flew by fast. Before you knew it, your mother was at the door. She drove you home. A couple days later, your mother called you. "I just got the test results in from the doctor. Do you have anything to tell me?" "No, what?" "Are you sure you don't have anything to tell me. The doctor told me the whole thing." You were baffled, what could it possibly be. You did everything they asked of you. "The doctor told me," your mother explained, "that you hadn't been taking you medication for weeks." "I uh." "Well." You didn't know what to say. Before last Sunday you were really a different person. You were a man who didn't need medication. "You have to take your meds everyday. Every single one of them. If you don't you could get sick or hurt. I don't mean to be hard on you, but you just have to do it. You can't stop. You need these pills. You don't know how bad things could get without them." "I'M SORRY." "I'm going to have to watch you more closely. I have to know I can trust you." "I promise, I'll always take my pills from now on." "Good girl.." You decided you didn't want to screw this up. Matt was worth any hardship. No one ever made you feel the way you did when you were around him. "Am I gay?" you started to wonder. You were wearing feminine clothing. You looked down your torso at your crotch. There wasn't any hint of breasts on your chests, except for the slight indentation caused by the t-shirt bra you wore underneath your top. It looked like your natural male chest. Below that, you could see the expected bulge under the leggings you were wearing. That proved your not a girl. "No I'm not gay. I'm sort of a girl here, at least Matt and everyone else thinks so. I DON'T CARE! I love him. No one thinks I'm a man, so I guess as far as anyone is concerned I'm not gay. Besides what does it matter." You got to your room, logged onto messenger and started chatting with Matt. You watched the same TV program with him and discussed it. It didn't matter what you chatted about as long as you were chatting with Matt. At 10:30 PM, the computer disconnected from the internet and a message screen flashed. "Mom, what's this?" you called. "The doctor said one of the reasons you have this new hormone imbalance was that you aren't getting enough sleep. So I set all your electronic devices to shut off at 10:30 PM," Mom informed you. The computer had a NetNanny type software installed, the TV had a V- CHIP, and the phone was set to deactivate at 10:30. Mom had all the passwords that controlled these devices. There wasn't anything you could do about it. "You can't do that! I was talking with Matt." "You can talk to him in the morning." "It's not fair. I'm not a child. I'm 26. Stop treating me like a child." Mom didn't remind you, but in the eyes of the law, you were a minor. You parents had full legal guardianship over you. They could treat you as if you were ten if they wanted to. You had all the legal rights of a thirteen year old. You could only hold a job with their permission. You couldn't own a credit card or open a bank account without your Mother being on the account. Your mother could ground you like any teenager. Legally you were incompetent and needed to be protected by a responsible adult. If you ran away, the police would look for you and return you to the house. "I'll stop treating you like a child, when you stop acting one," your mother said without raising her voice. What your mother said wasn't fair. You hadn't been doing anything like that, but there wasn't anything you could do about it. "Can I at least log back on for five minutes just to say goodbye to Matt?" "No, it's late, get ready for bed and go to sleep." "You looked at her with fury in your eyes. But you controlled yourself. If Mom could set your bed time at 10:30, she could set it to 9 if she wanted or not allow you to use the computer at all for a week or a month. "OK," you said dejectedly. "I'll get ready." As your changed out of your clothes and put on your pajamas, you thought, "She can stop me from talking to him tonight, but she can't stop me from thinking about him." Then you changed the way you were thinking. "I'll be good," you thought. "If I'm real good, I'll see if I can get her to change the time my devices go off until midnight." (You refused to call this your bedtime.) "But I have to be good." You got into bed and went to sleep. You dreamed of Matt naturally. In the morning you woke up early. You had to wait until your computer would start to work again. When you did you typed to Matt, "My mother has me on a fucking curfew. It cut me off at 10:30. It was only then that you noticed that your typing had been edited by the NetNanny software. Where you typed 'fucking' was replaced on the screen by '#######'. Looking back over older messages, you saw the same thing repeated over and over. When you tried to go to some adult websites, you found your path blocked. A couple minutes later, your mother was in your room. "JORDAN, we've already had a discussion on sites that are off limits to you!" she said calmly but firmly. "I'm sorry," Mom." was all you could say. "Jordan," your mother asked one day, " have you started your monthlies?" "No, mom." "OK" About a week later, your mother told you, "Hey the doctor needs a urine sample. Can you fill this up?" Your mother gave you a specimen cup with a green screw-top lid. "What's it for?" "Nothing important," your mother lied. "The doctor just wants to compare this with the one he took when you saw him last." "Sure thing, Mom" You filled up the cup and screwed the top back on. You gave it to your mother. Your mother took your sample and was off. She took it to the bathroom. She returned with a relieved look on her face. "I'm going to drop this off at the doctor. I'll see you later." "Want me to come with you?" "No, don't bother. I'll be back soon." You were so worried with other things, that you didn't consider what was going on. You mother thought that you might be pregnant. You hadn't had a period in a while and you were seeing Matt. Matt's parent's had assured your mother that you hadn't been alone, but she wasn't so sure. She used a home pregnancy test to see if you were pregnant. Obviously, your weren't. But when she called the doctor, he suggested you bring the sample to him. A few days after that. "Jordan, the doctor said you should start taking an extra pill. He said you have a hormone imbalance." You didn't concentrate on the cause, you were just bothered that you had to take more medication. "Another pill?" "Yeah, it's no big deal. I'll just add it to the rest. Don't worry about it." "Alright." Your medications had always included a birth control pill, but due to what the doctor said was a hormone imbalance, the strength of the female hormones was increased and a testosterone blocker was added. These would give you the proper hormones typical for a young woman. A week later, your mother wanted to speak with you. "Yeah Mom." "Jordan, you were invited to Hannah's birthday party. I saw you aren't going." "That's right." "I think you should go. You are spending too much time either with Matt or alone. You don't see your friends anymore. It's not healthy." "I love him." "I know you do. But what about your friends. You haven't spent any time with them." She was right.. You didn't care about Pam, Hannah, Justine, Christina and the rest of your friends. Only Matt counted. They had called, you didn't want anything to do with them. Your mom had been watching you more closely since returning from the doctor. "I've been busy." "Don't lie to me. They're your friends, they want to see you. What about Emily, you had been friends with her since you were five. She deserves more than your cold shoulder." "I guess I haven't been seeing them enough." "Go to the party. All your friends will be there. You'll have a great time." "OK, I'll go," you said reluctantly. "Hey, I'm not telling you to work in a salt mine. This is a party, it'll be fun." "I guess." "We'll go out and buy you a new dress; my treat." "Fine," you said without enthusiasm. "Great, phone Hannah and tell her you are coming." You really didn't want to. But you had to be good. If you didn't see your old friends, you mother might punish you. She wouldn't do that, but that is what you thought. You were going to be spending lots of time with your friends at the party. You didn't want to seem like a fool so you looked them all up again on Facebook. You needed to recognize the faces and put it together with their names as well as some of the things about them. You looked up Hannah first for no reason. She was mentally challenged just like the rest of your friends but you couldn't tell from the pictures or from her posts. There were lots of pictures of her with her friends, including you in her photo gallery. Lots of posed pictures all happy and smiling. They're mostly taken at people's homes or in their backyards (you supposed.) There were also a few pictures with filters like hearts and flowers. Almost all of the pictures were of her with her female friends. You supposed she didn't have a boyfriend. You looked closely and found a small group of pictures that had a boy in them too. But the boy was wearing the same green shirt and in a couple of the photos there were her friends too, so it wasn't serious. You looked to see if she had a boyfriend out of curiosity. It said she was single. You looked over her general information, it said she was born about four years after you. It listed many mutual friends. You looked through her posts and found you had attended her birthday party last year. That she went to an Easter event. There was a picture of a dog, but you didn't know if it was her dog, or if the dog was new. It was a cute dog though. There was a video of a friendship circle for kids with special needs. There was a post that began "This is the week of SPED (Special Education), Autism, Dyslexia, processing disorder, and ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) awareness." It went on and on. Next you moved onto Justine's page. She had lots of videos of her putting on music and dancing to pop songs. The videos started with her turning on the recorder. Then there could be minutes of her pressing buttons to select music. In one she ran out of the room to get something leaving the video running on the floor. There weren't any editing done on these videos. She did seem to be having a lot of fun though. The videos could last a half an hour. You looked through Justine's information trying to gauge what type of person she was. You liked that she listed under nicknames "Just". Marisa was a pretty girl, but you could tell by looking at her face that she had a mental problem. There was something slightly off about her face. She unlike Hannah and Justine liked to wear cami-tops that showed off her shoulders and upper chest. She was alone in almost all of her pictures. There were graphics of unicorns, crowns, and flowers in her photo section. Then moving down, there were what seemed like hundreds of pictures of plates of prepared meals. She had taken pictures of her plates from restaurants before she took a bite of the meal and posted them. There were steaks, chicken dishes, bowls of soup, burgers and fries, cheesecake and all sorts of other meals. "If she likes taking pictures of what she is about to eat, who am I to complain?" you thought. You checked Marisa's relationship status, she was single too. None of your friends (so far) were as lucky as you to have a boyfriend. Most of Marisa's posts were of her changing her profile pictures. You didn't know much about her, except she likes to take pictures of food and wear camis. Christina went from boyfriend to boyfriend. Saying she loved them with all her heart, just to break up and find another. She couldn't love a man as much as she professed you didn't think. You had thought and said similar things about Matt, but you meant them. You would never break up with him. Rebecca was the prettiest of your friends. There wasn't any hint of mental challenge in her looks or what she said. But you knew she was just one of the girls in your group. She was the most likely to be wearing a dress in pictures. Michelle was older than the rest of you. She was in her early forties, but she was still part of the gang. She liked to do arts and crafts like sewing and took many pictures of her projects. You looked up the rest of those who seemed your closest friends. They were different people, but they all shared one thing in common, they were all mentally challenged girls. "Jordan, time to get that dress of yours," your mother called out. "Coming mom." You got into the car and were off. You didn't think you needed a new dress for the party. You had plenty of outfits in your closet. But your friends had seen you in all of them. You didn't care, but girls had a different opinion of these things. Instead of driving directly to the store. Your mother turned into a neighborhood. In front of a house waiting for you was Justine and Rebecca. Your mother stopped in front of them. They got into the car. Your mother hadn't told you that they were coming along. She decided that it would be good for you and invited them. You were annoyed at your mother. She invited Justine and Rebecca without telling you. It wasn't as if you didn't like these girls, they were 'your friends'. But your mother didn't even ask you if you wanted them along. It might be a good idea to spend some time with these girls getting to know them before the party. But you mother should have asked you first. She was yet again treating you like a little girl. It wasn't even your idea to buy a dress in the first place. You put on a brave face and greeted your friends. It was a good thing you had just spent time seeing who your friends were and what they looked like. Justine, Rebecca, hey. I didn't know you were coming." "You mom phoned us, we hadn't seen you in such a long time we had to come. Plus I love looking for new outfits," Rebecca answered. "Rebecca was so pretty," you thought. "If you didn't have a boyfriend that you loved so much, you wouldn't mind spending time with her. You might even let her know that you weren't really a girl. She was hot." You knew you couldn't do or say anything about that though, you could never jeopardize your relationship with Matt. Telling people you weren't a girl wouldn't go down well either with anyone. You let your mother and Rebecca guide you when it came to dresses. You put on everything they suggested. Rebecca and Justine also tried on their own apparel. Often you and the girls would be in the same dressing room together. They took of their clothes right in front of you without giving it a second thought. Rebecca was so hot and she had great tits. She was also wearing lace panties in which you could sort of see through. You tried to avoid looking at her crotch...you weren't entirely successful. Justine could afford to lose a few pounds, but she was still a girl and half naked in your presence. You decided it was safer to stay closer to Justine than to Rebecca while you were changing. It was a good thing they wouldn't notice that your dick was getting a bit hard when you looked at them. You kept reminding yourself that you were in a relationship with Matt and that these were your friends. You controlled yourself the best you could. But you couldn't help but to adjust your panties from time to time for obvious reasons. Dresses were selected, lunch was eaten and everyone went home happy with their purchases. When you returned home, you called Matt. You needed to hear his voice. You would never do anything to hurt him or ruin your relationship. Mom dropped you off at the party. It was held in an Italian restaurant. You entered and were shown to the back room where the party was taking place. You didn't know what to expect. But it looked quite ordinary for a party. There were fifteen people there, four men and eleven women. You recognized them all from photos you saw on Facebook. The room was decorated for a party. It was Hannah's 28th birthday. Pop dance music was playing over the loudspeaker. There was a big table in the middle where you knew everyone would gather around later to eat. The wait staff was passing out hors d'oeuvres to the party-goers. It was like any other party you had gone to. Ordinarily, at a party, you would get a drink of liquor, but with all the pills you were taking that was out of the question. Instead, you saw pitchers of soft drinks and water on the table. You walked right over since your throat was dry and filled yourself a glass of coke. You took a quick sip to wet your throat. Even though you recognized everyone, you weren't sure which person belonged to which name. Justine and Rebecca you recognized instantly, you had spent a day shopping for the dress you were wearing at this very moment. It was a sleeveless tank dress with wide straps and a round neck. It had a pleated skirt that dropped down to about three inches above your knees. You wore it with a gold necklace that provided contrast to the entirely black dress. You didn't mind wearing the dress at all. You had been wearing women's apparel for a while now. But you still hated that your bra straps kept falling off your shoulders. This was especially true since you felt you didn't need to wear a bra at all since you really didn't have any boobs. You walked over to Justine who was with two other girls. You were greeted and told how pretty your dress looked. Most of the other girls didn't wear dresses, they were in tops and pants instead. You contributed to the conversation as best you could. You tried not to use names until you were sure of the name of the girl you were talking to. After a while, you realized that you were accepted in this room more than you had been with any other group of people. Everyone was differently enabled at the party. They didn't treat you as autistic or mentally challenged as the other people you were usually around had. Those people could tell just by looking at you that you were special. Not that they could see the real you. But in this group, you were just another party-goer. These were your friends that you had known for many years. It was natural for you guys to be together, whether at school or at events for special people, trips, etc. For the first time, you felt at ease while in a large group. Justine insisted you dance. You really didn't want to, but you did so anyway. You duplicated whatever moves Justine did. A third girl joined you, you think it was Pam, but you weren't sure. Soon all three of you were dancing together in a circle. Only one of the boys was brave enough to be on the dance floor. He wasn't just dancing he was trying to show off. When the song changed, you told the girls, "I have to use the ladies' room." You weren't lying, you were thirsty a lot and peed just as often. It was one of the side effects of the medications you were taking. That wasn't the only one though. There were others, you didn't think as fast as you could anymore. Although since everyone expected you to be 'slow' it wasn't noticeable to you. You weren't asked to do any heavy thinking. There were other side effects you weren't aware of also. "I'll go with you." "OK." The two of you, you were pretty sure her name was Pam, walked out of the party room into the restaurant and then into the restroom. You took a stall, closed the door, and pulled up the hem of your dress. Then you pulled down your panties and sat on the toilet. After peeing, you still didn't wipe yourself as girls do. No one was ever around to correct you. Pam was waiting for you when you were done. You didn't know if she used the facilities while you did. It didn't matter anyway. When you returned the music stopped and the group was sitting at the table. The dishes were taken out and people started to eat. Marisa took a picture of her dish before taking a bite. By the end of the party, you had 'met' everyone and knew their names. These girls had truly become your friends. The boys were more like just acquaintances. You determined to spend more time with your girlfriends. They were nice and fun to be around. You hadn't realized up until now how much you needed to be with people who thought of you as their friend. Your mother was right. People who didn't think you were odd or sick or challenged. People who liked you and wanted to be with you. People who didn't think they were better than you. These were your friends, and now that you had spent time with them, you liked them too. In effect, you finally realized how lonely you truly were. From that point on, whenever your friends called, you wanted to talk to them. You looked for reasons to be with them. You even started to call them on your own initiative. Your mother was grateful that you were seeing your friends again. You went to their house and they came to yours. You would do things together in neutral places. While Pam was at your house, she suggested that both of you take an art class. "I don't know," you said hesitantly. "I know you love to paint. Come on, it'll be fun." Pam wanted to join the class, but she didn't want to join alone. It was obvious that you enjoyed painting. You had your paintings framed on your own walls in your bedroom. You couldn't say, well that was someone else who did them. Besides, the idea did seem like fun. Pam was becoming the best of your friends. There was something about her you really liked. She was so easy to talk to. If you would tell anybody about what happened, it would be her. But you didn't want to tell her at the same time. You didn't want her, in particular, to know that you really weren't the Jordan Baird that she knew. A short time ago, you weren't sure of Pam's name. Now, she's your best friend. It didn't take too much persuasion for you to agree to taking the class with her. You knew how much she wanted to do it and you felt an obligation to help your friend. The time you spent with Matt was heavenly, but getting there was a hassle. You lived in the suburbs but there wasn't a bus that passed by your house. Matt lived 40 miles away in the adjoining state. How you met him isn't an important story. He was worth all the fuss to get there but that didn't mean you liked going to all the trouble. The first thing you needed to do was get a ride to the railroad. The railroad was two miles away, you could walk, but two miles is a half- hour walk, and if it was raining or something, not the most fun. So you needed a ride to the railroad either by your mom or dad or by an uber which costs money. You have to take the railroad to the city. During peak hours, the railroad ran quite often, but other times not as much. Plus, since it was peak it was crowded too. Once in the city, you had to go to the Path Train to Matt's town or thereabouts. Next, you could take another uber or a bus to get to his house. The 40-mile distance usually took about two and a half hours and cost lots of money between the ubers, buses, and trains. Plus, the schedule of each wasn't perfectly synchronized. If you miss the connection and you had to wait for the next train or railroad Going to your friends, to art class, or even to your job was a similar hassle. You had to wait for drives or ubers. It would be so much easier if you could just drive yourself. With all that in mind you asked again, "Mom, I really want to learn to drive." "Honey, we've been through this." "We saw the doctor. He said I was alright!" You had started to raise your voice "He didn't say that exactly. He said your condition hasn't worsened because you stopped taking your medication," she told you in a reasonable controlled tone. "But I'm taking them now. I can follow directions. I get back and forth to Matt all by myself," you told her with your voice still raised. "I know and I'm proud of you. But driving is different. You have to concentrate the whole time. You can't let up for an instant." "I can do that. I promise, I really can. I can do much more than you know!" You felt you needed to convince her. You were trying to control yourself, but it was getting harder and harder. You were filled with emotion. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you can. You could be driving along on the highway and your thoughts can wander. I've seen this many times. Then you'll get into an accident and hurt yourself." Mom continued to stay calm. It was frustrating that Mom couldn't see how important this was for you. "I'M WILLING TO TAKE THAT RISK! IT'S MY LIFE!" you yelled "But what about the person you run into. It's not fair to them." Mom was talking in an even lower more controlled voice than before. "That'll never happen! I can concentrate. I have a job. I can do what I need to do," you said in a slightly lower tone as you got a bit of control over yourself. "You don't know if you can concentrate the whole time. You might get distracted and then....you know.." "That could happen to anyone. It could happen to you! You aren't perfect." "No, I'm not. But we aren't talking about me. I have a lot of experience driving." "I'm taking painting classes. My teacher says I'm doing very well. It takes a lot of concentration to paint. You have to pay attention to detail. I CAN DO IT!" "I know you think so. But I'm not so sure. But as I said, driving is different. You can't let up for an instant. You have to be totally focused. You can take a break from painting. You can fix your mistakes. Some mistakes in driving you can't fix. You can get hurt or hurt someone else." Your frustration was bringing tears to your eyes. "LET ME TRY! YOU AREN'T BEING FAIR! I CAN DO IT!" "I don't think you can. I'm not going to let you. I'm not trying to be mean." "I CAN DO IT! I'M NOT A BABY! I CAN DO IT!" "I know you think you can, but you have to listen to me." You had lost all control over you emotions. "WHAT IF THE DOCTOR SAYS i CAN?" "Well then maybe." "GREAT! LET'S SEE THE DOCTOR!" "We just saw him, we don't have another appointment until October." "I DON'T WANT TO WAIT THAT LONG. I WANT TO SEE HER NOW!" "You have to. That is the best I can do." Your mom never raised her voice once during the entire conversation. She had trained herself to keep calm during your tantrums. You saw that arguing with mom was pointless. Tears had started to roll down your cheeks. You had to rub them off your face with your semi- closed fists. You turned away from your mom and ran to your room. You threw yourself on the bed and let the tears flow. It took you a while to calm down. Once you could think rationally again, you realized at least there was hope. You would have to wait. But it was very frustrating. You remembered having a driver's license before all this began, now you have to beg your mother to try and get one again. You knew you could drive, you wish she would give you a chance to prove it. All you you needed was a chance. This wasn't the first time you lost control when your mother wouldn't let you have what you wanted. It was happening more and more often actually. You blamed your mother for provoking you or the situation You didn't realize that it was you who was changing. You would have never had a tantrum before. You might get angry and raise you voice, whatever. But never a full out temper tantrum with crying. At one time you were on the verge of having a similar incident with your supervisor at work. Your mother had noticed the increase in your outbursts. She thought that some therapy could be used to help you calm yourself and keep control. She wanted to see what the doctor would say. In many ways you were regressing. A couple of days later, when you were calm your mom told you, "I've changed my mind about driving?" She wanted you to see the doctor about these mood swings. "I can take lessons?" "No, I mean we can see the doctor and see what she says. If she thinks you can handle it, then I'll see about getting lessons for you." After the doctor spoke to you (and your mother in private) she referred you to an occupational therapist to assess your ability to stay focused...and to help you control your emotions. "It's possible," the therapist announced. "GREAT! so I can start driving?" "No, that isn't what I meant. If you have therapy specifically focused on your attention and your mood swings. You can't get angry while driving. That'll cause you to lose focus. If we can keep you focused and control your emotions, then you might be able to start learning to drive. I'm not giving you any guarantees, but it is possible. Many people with your disabilities have overcome their handicapped and learned to drive. You might be able to also,' the therapist explained. You couldn't help yourself. You threw yourself into the therapist's arms to hug him. You started therapy immediately. That very day. In time, occupational therapy was mixed in with physical therapy. The therapist noticed you weren't as steady on your feet as you should be. Soon you were learning to be more graceful and sure-footed. You learned to walk smoothly on high heels like women do. Without you noticing, you entire life became completely structured. You woke up at exactly 7:30 AM and you went to be at exactly 11 PM. After waking up, you put on your glasses, there were always on the nightstand by your bed where you left them the night before. You immediately went to the bathroom and relieved yourself, brushed your teeth, and brushed your hair. You could take your shower now, but you never did because you had to have your morning pills. The pills had be be taken with breakfast so that always came girl. By 8:30 you were finished with everything you needed to do in the morning, you had peed, brushed your teeth, eaten, taken your morning pills, showered, brushed your hair, gotten dressed and applied any makeup you needed. You did all these things in an exact order and it had to take exactly an hour. The next half an hour was used to communicate with Matt of your friends. Your phone and computer would start working at 8:30. The time mom set it. You had exactly a half an hour to finish your communications because you had to be out of the house at 9:00. IF you weren't out of your house at 9, you would have trouble making it to your painting class on time if there was traffic or some problem. Painting class was only two days a week, but you also had physical and occupational therapy three days a week at the same time as painting and church on Sunday. Lunch was always at noon and you had to be at work four days a week (Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday) from two to seven. Tuesdays and Thursdays you could see your friends during the day. Dinner was always at 7:30. TV programs you started to watch at 8. They could be recorded during the day, or previously, or they could be on that night. This was also computer and phone time. At 10:30 all electronic devices were turned off. You had a half an hour to get ready for bed and go to sleep. Saturday was the only day with 'free' time. That was the day for going to events or seeing Matt. You saw Matt every other Saturday although you talked to him through the day on your 'breaks'. Your mom arranged the schedule without you noticing that was what she was doing. The doctor had told her, that keeping a routine was important and comforting to adults with autism. Not following the schedule that first day, was what concerned your mother. She never had to wake you up for church before that day. Between all your activities you were rarely at home. There was your job, your painting class, your therapy, time with friends, and church on Sunday. Throughout all your activities, you kept in contact with Matt through electronic means. Every other week, you visited his house or he came to see you. It was the best you could do since you lived so far apart. But all in all, you were happy. Months later, one morning like any other you woke up. Your room had changed but you weren't cognizant of that fact. Your bedroom was back to the way it was before that fateful morning when you became Jordan the 28-year-old autistic girl. Instead of the 28-year-old guy you really were. You didn't recognize that the blanket on you wasn't the one you went to sleep under. That all the paintings were gone and the TV wasn't in a wall unit, it was hanging directly on the wall. The dimensions of the room hadn't changed, but all the furniture and carpeting had reverted to what they once had been. You weren't even aware that you weren't wearing the pajamas you had put on the night before, you were only wearing a t-shirt and some male boxers. The nail polish you had been wearing for some time had also vanished from your fingertips. You instinctively put on your glasses. They were thin framed and the lenses were much smaller now. You didn't need them to see distances anymore. It was morning and you had to pee so you trudged over to the bathroom. You turned around such that your butt was facing the toilet. You pulled your boxers down over your clean-shaven legs and sat down to pee. Sitting down had become your regular way to relieve yourself. You didn't even need to point your penis down with your hand, you let gravity do it for you. It had become totally natural. When you were done you stood up and pulled up your boxers. You still didn't wipe yourself as girls normally do. You walked over to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror above it. Your hair had grown and had been styled in a feminine manner. It still wasn't long enough for you to need a scrunchy or a rubber band to control it, but it was getting there. You would brush and style it later after your shower. The bigger concern was the acne on your face. It was all over. You didn't know that it was a direct consequence of taking hormones. Before leaving your home, you religiously used concealer and foundation to hide the zits. You had also started to wear blush and other cosmetics to 'pretty' up your face. But that was for later, now you had to thoroughly cleanse it to minimize the acne problem. You did so right after brushing your teeth. The hormones had also caused changes to your body other than giving you a few zits. Your chest had started to develop. Your new boobs weren't large enough to fit the bra you were still wearing, but you weren't flat chested anymore. Your hips and butt had also expanded and rounded to take on more feminine proportions. There were also several other barely noticeable changes that you had grown used to. You ran a brush through your hair and headed towards the kitchen. You would better prepare for the day and take your shower after breakfast. On the way, you noticed people in the living room. They were sitting in chairs. There were your real parents (the ones that knew you as a man,) your brother (when you were thought of as a woman, you didn't have any siblings), and your best friends. You looked around and none of your current friends and more importantly Matt was among the people here. A man you didn't know said, "You want to come on over and have a seat with your family and friends?" You sat down and crossed your shaved legs subconsciously in a feminine fashion. The physical therapist you had been seeing, had 'improved' your posture as well as the way you walked and sat. You no longer sat with your legs apart. The man continued, "We've all been talking, Jordan and I'm just hearing from a bunch of people who love the heck out of ya. They all think you need some professional help." "But..." you tried to interject. "Wait a moment, they are going to say what they want to say. And you are going to say what you want to say. And then we're done. OK?" You were silent. You couldn't explain what was happening.. Your brother got up first, "Jordan, I don't know what has come over you but you have changed and I don't think for the better. Your not the man you used to be. Whereas you used to..." End.