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Worst Mistake Of My Life

As a young boy, I knew I was different. I never enjoyed the things most young boys enjoyed, like young girls. As long as I can remember, I was always attracted to other boys.

My parents grew up in the years just as progressivism in America was on the rise. They recognized my differences and encouraged them. Dressing up like a girl wasn't really my decision. My parents suggested I might be happier dressing as a girl since I was more "feminine" and I was made to believe that was normal for me.

At that young age, nobody could tell if my physical features were male or female. The only way strangers would know was by how I was dressed which was always as a female. Nobody ever made it an issue, but my parents told as many people as they could. Even though it made me uncomfortable, they always made sure every new person we met knew that I was a transsexual.

The way they presented it was always how brave I was, but it was always presented in a way that also made them appear brave. Especially among their progressive friends who were always complimenting them on how enlightened and forward-thinking they were.

Many times, I would dress myself as a boy and my parents would tell me things like, "Don't let ignorant people choose who you are. You were born a girl, so be a girl.". Through high school, I would change from week to week dressing as a boy and a girl. Some called me confused or said I was doing it for attention.

My sophomore year in high school, my parents moved me to a larger school district known for its diversity. I instantly settled into a group of about a dozen kids who were also outcasts and oddities.

We all had similar stories and, either by themselves or with help from their parents, decided we were all transsexuals. At that point, I still didn't think I was a transsexual, but with most of my friends identifying as transsexuals, I did feel more comfortable in a group.

As a high school graduation g*ft, my parents decided that they would pay for my transition from a male to female and the process began. My first step was lengthy psychiatric sessions with a Dr. specializing in transsexual transitions. I've already heard everything he had to say because my parents were telling me the same things my whole life. They must have read the same studies and books.

The times I tried to tell the Psychiatrist of my doubts were used as argument points as if he were debating me. Over the next year, I was more convinced it was my idea and what I wanted.

Even the day of my transition surgery, I wasn't sure it was what I truly wanted, but figured so much effort and money has been invested in this process. It's too late to stop now.

It's been three years since my transition and I know I've made a horrible mistake. I never was a girl and I'm certainly not one now. I was and have always been a gay male. I should have stayed a gay male. I know I would have been much happier.



by Anonymous on Nov 29, 2020 at 8:19 PM

I get where you are coming from. My parents died in a car accident when I was five and my only relative was my insane, crazy lesbian, man hating hyper feminist aunt. She simply decided without consulting me that I was going to be a girl. I already had shoulder length hair which she pointed out was so pretty that surely I was destined to be a girl. By the time I was six my blond curls reached my waist. That was also when my aunt began making me take "special vitamins." It turns out they were mega doses of hormones, formulation of which were intended to turn men into girls. Except I wasn't a man yet. At 12 my blond curly mane was long enough to trip over. I had Double D breasts, a full bush of blond pubic hair, and a half inch long clit that could only get hard dipped in liquid nitrogen. My balls were smaller than marbles when I could find them at all and I had the high pitched voice of a five year old girl. I was also not much bigger. I stopped growing altogether at seven, a side affect of forced early onset female puberty.

My aunt didn't bother informing school officials that her niece started out life as a nephew. She simply registered me in St. Mary's Academy for girls figuring nobody would find out. They didn't even notice the discrepancy on my birth certificate either. Then came gym class in the 7th grade. The school my aunt went to did not have communal locker rooms. They had changing rooms. My school had a communal locker room for grades 7-12 and we were expected to strip and change into a gym uniform then at end of class (gasp!) take a shower together. I had no warning at all. I also had been so thoroughly brainwashed by my aunt for 7 years that I had been completely convinced that I was a girl and that was backed up by having never actually seen a girl or a boy naked before other than myself.

Nobody noticed when I changed into my uniform since I kept my panties on though there were gasps and stares at my huge tits and bush. Nobody in the 7th or 8th grades had a bush as big as mine and only three fat girls had tits bigger and I was a skinny little girl with a quarter of my body mass belonging to my tits. But when it was time for showers, people looked more carefully, the other kids AND our lesbian nun physed teacher. She must have had hyper sensitive Y-chromosome radar because she spotted mine all the way across the locker room and into the showers and marched right up to me and said "Young man come with me!"

I was very confused. I was marched into the locker room and commanded to put my uniform back on and hardly given any time to put my hair back into pigtails and fold them so they didn't drag on the floor and marched right up to Mother Superior's office. "Mother Superior, Jenny is NOT a girl!"

The Shit hit the fan to say the least. The Roman Catholic church, at least at that time did not recognize the legitimacy of transgenderism. I was declared male and expelled from school and my aunt did NOT get a refund for tuition. They hadn't actually read my birth certificate all those years ago when my aunt registered me for kindergarten there a few months after my parents died. They just dropped the copy into the file and forgot about it. Public schools were far more diligent with registration information and they required a physical exam which revealed my then legal male gender and they also did not recognize the legitimacy of transgenderism. I was registered as a boy and that meant taking gym class. They didn't make me cut my hair and my aunt wouldn't let me anyways. So combine my still long hair, my feminine face, high pitched voice and cleavage like a pair of basketballs and absolute confusion over who and what I was, on my part, and I had the perfect formula for the perfect storm of humiliation. I no longer knew what I was.

The next seven years were one continuous nightmare. Suicide was a daily thought. Probably the only thing that kept me from killing myself was a fear of being sent directly to hell like we were taught by our church.

The only island of comfort in that sea of horror was one student teacher who was in her third year of college, twenty years old and I was in the 9th grade by then and she took me under her wing. She told me about her gay brother who committed suicide three years earlier at the age of 15 only a year older than I was. Every time she put her arms around me the pressure of her ample breasts resting on the top of my head made me think about my breasts pressing into her groin area. I didn't have anything anyone would call a cock. At 15 it was barely half an inch long and less than that thick. It resembled a clit with the tip pierced. My scrotum was shriveled up and looked like pussy lips. Framed in a massive bush of blond pubes I didn't just look like a girl from the waist up, I looked like a woman between my legs but without the ability to become even slightly erect. The hormones I was forced to take took care of that.

She was the one to encourage me to seek legal help. I got an advocate to handle my case and at 16 I was taken off the female hormones and put on testosterone. One week later I found out what all the fuss about sex was about. I forgot to mention that I had moved in with my student teacher who suddenly became an object of intense fixation. I couldn't take it any more and forced myself on her, or at least I tried. People under four feet tall usually don't' succeed forcing themselves on people who are over five and a half feet tall and who are more than double their weight. I certainly didn't. But she made no resistance to my advances at all. I managed to get off and have my very first orgasm rubbing my clit onto hers. An hour later she went down on me. I wouldn't call it a blow job simply because there was almost nothing to put in her mouth. But it sure felt good. But then I realized that my whole universe suddenly revolved around sex so I had a talk with the doctor and we decided I would go back on the female hormones because I actually liked being pretty and feminine despite myself and only took the testosterone once a month so as to enjoy that sensation of being insanely horny for one weekend before returning back to "normal."

In between my new roommate made me feel good in ways that didn't require me to be horny. I can't have kids. Basically I've been chemically castrated since six years old. My doctor told me that there are things that can be done that would give me another 2-3 inches but I still wouldn't be much taller than four feet so I figured what's the point? My wife and I are married now. She's an assistant principal at a middle school now and I became a pediatric nurse in a cancer ward in a children's hospital.

Without my wife's help I'd not have survived high school. She made enduring the worst of it worth while giving me comfort when I got home. As for my aunt, she died in prison years ago.

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by Anonymous on Dec 2, 2020 at 7:20 PM

Moral of this story is( never cut your dick off)!!!!!!!!?

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