Every so often, when I am walking by my mirror while wearing breastforms, I catch a glimpse of my somewhat feminine figure. This is not, by any chance, my real body yet. I won't be quite there until I get through hormones, but this sight makes me happy and excited to see. I'll share that with you now - and be warned - bra and panties behind the jump. Also exceedingly white skin.
This is what I see in the mirror, and I'm sure you can tell why I get excited so often.
Also holy crap I am skinny! I need a hamburger or eight.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
The Secret Room - Part 2
I couldn't sleep. I was tired, but every time I closed my eyes I heard those cries, I saw myself in that room. I couldn't shake the feeling. This camp, they were killing kids. They were taking us and killing us. I knew it would be hard, but I had to get out somehow. I had to warn someone.
I didn't know how.
The morning came, and at the crack of dawn we were up. After dressing and washing up, we were walked to the breakfast hall where we ate a decent meal. Again, the teachers like myself got a much better looking meal, idly I wondered if it was to fatten us up for some alien monster who would gobble us down. They'd already killed a kid, maybe there were more crazy secrets like that.
After breakfast, we separated to our specific areas. I was to head to the farm, but before they took us there, one of the counselors called me over, "Hey, Christopher is it? Come here." My heart froze, the voice, it was the racist counselor from last night, did they see me, were they going to kill me too? I walked stiffly over, trying not to cry out of fear when the man placed his hand on my shoulder with a warm smile.
"My name is Jeremy, head counselor for the farming students. I understand you're to be our newest teacher. Our last one is going to be leaving the camp in a week, so I'll introduce you two." Jeremy led me along away from the line of students, and motioned me towards an older boy standing on a wooden platform near the farm - he looked very gentle, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a pale complexion. It began to dawn on me that all the counselors had some similar qualities.
"Ah, this must be my replacement. Nice to meet you, I'm Michael." The boy offered his hand and a beautiful smile. I fluttered for a moment before gripping his hand and shaking it.
"C... Chris." I managed to state. Staring into his eyes was like staring into the sky, so inviting and so deep. I snapped myself out of my reverie and nodded, "I ah, it's nice to meet you. I hope you can teach me what I'm to do."
Jeremy walked away to view the progress of the other boys while Michael walked me along the front area of the farm. It was certainly that, a wide patch of soil with rows of plants. I didn't recognize them much, and the students gathered there were weeding and tilling, making sure the plants were all well kept. "This is the farm, we grow crops here, and tend livestock in those barns over there." He motinoed towards one of the two large red barns surrounding the field. I could see behind it was a pasture with several cows.
"Students here must learn hard work and discipline, they have to learn how to grow and harvest and take care of animals. It's not easy, and it's one of the most rewarding jobs in the camp. The Helpers, they take care of the Students. Getting them water, tending to any wounds they receive, running to fetch tools. As for you and I, we're teachers. Our job is to make sure everything is going right. If someone's slacking off, that's what the switch is for."
"Wait. I'm supposed to hit people?"
"Discipline. So it says in the Good Book, 'He that spares the rod spoils the child.' If you don't discipline those beneath you, they'll never learn to be decent, hardworking adults."
I couldn't do that. I wasn't a violent person, I couldn't even raise my voice too much for fear of being seen as mean. This was clearly not the job for me. It was for a large boy, one who needed to throw his weight around. My parents must have been concerned I wasn't manly enough, so they told the coordinator to get me a task where I'd be forced to be one.
"Ah, speaking of discipline." He muttered, grabbing the switch and hopping into the field over towards one of the Helpers. The boy couldn't have been more than 13 years old, and was breathing heavily as he was hauling a sealed bag of manure. Michael raised the switch and struck the boy. "No slacking off! Get back to work!"
"I can't... carry..."
"The Lord will provide you with strength if you believe in it. You clearly don't believe." He said, pronouncing each word with a swat. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't let this continue, and I ran over, grabbing Michael's arm.
"Stop! Let him go!" I shouted, but felt the thrust of Michael's other arm pushing me away.
"Don't you undermine me. This is what we have to do." He raised the stick again, the boy half-hobbling away as he struck around his leg and ankle. The sound of crying and the snap of the switch ground into my ears and I tackled Michael to the dirt. "What the Hell are you doing?"
I pinned Michael beneath me, grabbing the switch. "This is not how I do things." I spoke directly to the older boy, and walked off. My heart was pounding, my breath was slow, and I could feel the eyes of the students watching me as I crossed over to the platform. I held the switch in my hands, and looked down towards Michael, who was now standing, brushing dirt off his pants. I snapped the switch and tossed it away, before hearing a voice cry out.
"Christopher! Get down here now." It was Jeremy. I hopped off the platform and he swatted me hard against the side of the head. "Michael is your authority. You are to listen to him and to do as he says. Get to the administrator's building now." He pointed.
The administrator's building was near to where we had breakfast. I opened it up and took a seat on the long bench. As I sat, I felt a nudge to my side and peering up, I saw the smile of Jackson. "Hey. I see you got in trouble, too."
"Yea... guess I'm not teacher material. What'd you do?"
"Nothing. They sent me off to clean, but I didn't work, just stood around watching. They say I'm a real troublemaker."
My heart pounded, I could see visions of Jackson, melting away under whatever it was in that room. "We have to get out of here, they're crazy. They kill people."
Jackson peered over at me, "You alright? That's a bit of crazy talk."
"The... building in the courtyard. The tall thin one with the pipes... it's, I dunno, a killing chamber."
"That's brutal." Jackson said, looking down. "Well, we need a plan, and an escape route."
"Maybe... I had a cell phone in my bag. I'm sure lots of other kids did too... maybe if we get one we can call the police."
"They won't believe us."
"They've got to... or we're dead."
"Christopher, the administrator wants to see you." A woman called from the office nearby.
"Spread the word, any who will listen, tell them we're going to get out of here."
I didn't know how.
The morning came, and at the crack of dawn we were up. After dressing and washing up, we were walked to the breakfast hall where we ate a decent meal. Again, the teachers like myself got a much better looking meal, idly I wondered if it was to fatten us up for some alien monster who would gobble us down. They'd already killed a kid, maybe there were more crazy secrets like that.
After breakfast, we separated to our specific areas. I was to head to the farm, but before they took us there, one of the counselors called me over, "Hey, Christopher is it? Come here." My heart froze, the voice, it was the racist counselor from last night, did they see me, were they going to kill me too? I walked stiffly over, trying not to cry out of fear when the man placed his hand on my shoulder with a warm smile.
"My name is Jeremy, head counselor for the farming students. I understand you're to be our newest teacher. Our last one is going to be leaving the camp in a week, so I'll introduce you two." Jeremy led me along away from the line of students, and motioned me towards an older boy standing on a wooden platform near the farm - he looked very gentle, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a pale complexion. It began to dawn on me that all the counselors had some similar qualities.
"Ah, this must be my replacement. Nice to meet you, I'm Michael." The boy offered his hand and a beautiful smile. I fluttered for a moment before gripping his hand and shaking it.
"C... Chris." I managed to state. Staring into his eyes was like staring into the sky, so inviting and so deep. I snapped myself out of my reverie and nodded, "I ah, it's nice to meet you. I hope you can teach me what I'm to do."
Jeremy walked away to view the progress of the other boys while Michael walked me along the front area of the farm. It was certainly that, a wide patch of soil with rows of plants. I didn't recognize them much, and the students gathered there were weeding and tilling, making sure the plants were all well kept. "This is the farm, we grow crops here, and tend livestock in those barns over there." He motinoed towards one of the two large red barns surrounding the field. I could see behind it was a pasture with several cows.
"Students here must learn hard work and discipline, they have to learn how to grow and harvest and take care of animals. It's not easy, and it's one of the most rewarding jobs in the camp. The Helpers, they take care of the Students. Getting them water, tending to any wounds they receive, running to fetch tools. As for you and I, we're teachers. Our job is to make sure everything is going right. If someone's slacking off, that's what the switch is for."
"Wait. I'm supposed to hit people?"
"Discipline. So it says in the Good Book, 'He that spares the rod spoils the child.' If you don't discipline those beneath you, they'll never learn to be decent, hardworking adults."
I couldn't do that. I wasn't a violent person, I couldn't even raise my voice too much for fear of being seen as mean. This was clearly not the job for me. It was for a large boy, one who needed to throw his weight around. My parents must have been concerned I wasn't manly enough, so they told the coordinator to get me a task where I'd be forced to be one.
"Ah, speaking of discipline." He muttered, grabbing the switch and hopping into the field over towards one of the Helpers. The boy couldn't have been more than 13 years old, and was breathing heavily as he was hauling a sealed bag of manure. Michael raised the switch and struck the boy. "No slacking off! Get back to work!"
"I can't... carry..."
"The Lord will provide you with strength if you believe in it. You clearly don't believe." He said, pronouncing each word with a swat. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't let this continue, and I ran over, grabbing Michael's arm.
"Stop! Let him go!" I shouted, but felt the thrust of Michael's other arm pushing me away.
"Don't you undermine me. This is what we have to do." He raised the stick again, the boy half-hobbling away as he struck around his leg and ankle. The sound of crying and the snap of the switch ground into my ears and I tackled Michael to the dirt. "What the Hell are you doing?"
I pinned Michael beneath me, grabbing the switch. "This is not how I do things." I spoke directly to the older boy, and walked off. My heart was pounding, my breath was slow, and I could feel the eyes of the students watching me as I crossed over to the platform. I held the switch in my hands, and looked down towards Michael, who was now standing, brushing dirt off his pants. I snapped the switch and tossed it away, before hearing a voice cry out.
"Christopher! Get down here now." It was Jeremy. I hopped off the platform and he swatted me hard against the side of the head. "Michael is your authority. You are to listen to him and to do as he says. Get to the administrator's building now." He pointed.
The administrator's building was near to where we had breakfast. I opened it up and took a seat on the long bench. As I sat, I felt a nudge to my side and peering up, I saw the smile of Jackson. "Hey. I see you got in trouble, too."
"Yea... guess I'm not teacher material. What'd you do?"
"Nothing. They sent me off to clean, but I didn't work, just stood around watching. They say I'm a real troublemaker."
My heart pounded, I could see visions of Jackson, melting away under whatever it was in that room. "We have to get out of here, they're crazy. They kill people."
Jackson peered over at me, "You alright? That's a bit of crazy talk."
"The... building in the courtyard. The tall thin one with the pipes... it's, I dunno, a killing chamber."
"That's brutal." Jackson said, looking down. "Well, we need a plan, and an escape route."
"Maybe... I had a cell phone in my bag. I'm sure lots of other kids did too... maybe if we get one we can call the police."
"They won't believe us."
"They've got to... or we're dead."
"Christopher, the administrator wants to see you." A woman called from the office nearby.
"Spread the word, any who will listen, tell them we're going to get out of here."
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
The Secret Room - Part 1
The metal grating hurt the soles of my feet. The room was hardly big enough for me to fit, let alone stand up. There was a light from above, but a sickly green glow. I could see into the grating, a pile of bodies, kids like me. My heart pounded, thumping in my chest, and I felt panick fill me. Pounding, pounding, someone help me. Someone! Anyone!
I startled awake, the bus bouncing a little bit in the night along the road. I shifted, feeling the arm of the kid next to my under my head. I bolted upwards, idly playing at my all-too-short-for-me locks and mumbled an apology to Jackson. I'd just met him on this bus trip. He was the kind of guy a girl could fall for - beautiful dark brown eyes, short-cropped, nicely styled black hair, a smile that lit my heart on fire. Of course, the fact I wasn't physically a girl was why I was on this bus in the first place.
It had come in the mail about a week ago - an invitation, a brochure. "It'll do you good, Christopher." My father said. "We just don't want to see you make a mistake." My mother echoed, nodding and smiling at my father. "This place helps kids like you. Sets them straight, puts them on the right path to God."
I didn't want to be 'fixed' like they wanted. I was good enough for me. It had gone to Hell for me when my mother caught me in the clothes that felt 'right.' I was impatient, I was too set in my ways. They'd left for a weekend trip, leaving me to go into the back of my closet where I'd stored the skirt and the top. An old bra, stuffed to give me at least some curves. Unfortunately, my mother had returned, looking for the tickets, and I was too late to rush back to my room.
They must have done some searching, found this 'camp' that would reform troubled kids. They enrolled me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was almost 14, too young to make a decision on my own. I couldn't run, I had no where to go. The Church ran our town, and anywhere I went, they'd know. For the week after, my parents were thrilled and happy and sure they'd done the right thing.
Three months worth of clothes, packed into my bag. I was shuffled into the bus, where I sat down next to Jackson... There were a bunch of other kids there. All of whom had been sent by parents or guardians. I talked to the black girl in front of me, Sosha. She was a foster kid, shuffled between families, and she was not a Believer. She was cute - younger than me, with black hair, black eyes, and a 'baby face.' Her overzealous foster parents were shocked at her lack of belief, and sent her to the camp.
The trip was long, and we stopped often. I met the three sisters - Emily, Andrea, and Laura - all beautiful, with long blonde hair and green eyes. Emily, the oldest, was very smart and very pious, and cried the entire way. Her parents had caught her with a boy, kissing. Andrea was more of a troublemaker, from the way Emily and Laura talked about her, it was obvious she'd 'been around.' Laura was the youngest, with some kind of mental disorder that made her go into fits.
The others on the trip were similar cases - troublemakers, homosexuals, delinquents, or 'disturbed.' I didn't meet any other transgender kids, so I was scared what would happen to me while I was there. The trip coordinators were silent, chaperoning the bus without speaking to us. It was eerie, they were too... perfect.
After a twelve hour journey, we stopped at Camp Hope. It was deep in the mountains, only the thinly twisting road leading away from it. A gate pulled across the entrance, a sure sign we were not to be leaving. The coordinators stood up, welcomed us, and told us to form a line outside the bus. Our bags were still there, and some kids seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Don't worry about your bags. They will be returned to you at the end of these three months. We'll provide you with clothes. We'll provide you with toiletries. If you need anything, find your dorm leader, and they will give you what you need."
The bags were taken away, shuttered into a locked room. The bus driver pulled over, stopping next to the wall of the Camp. The two coordinators - a lovely young woman with long brown hair, and a hard-looking man with short-trimmed black hair - spoke to each other for a few moments, looking over the checklists in their hands. I noticed they were wearing almost identical outfits - a smart white polo shirt, and a pair of black trousers for the man, and a long black skirt for the woman. After a few moments, they motioned for us to follow.
we were taken to a long hall with benches. A television turned on, and a stern-faced older gentleman started to speak, "Welcome children, to Camp Hope. I am your Administrator, Barnabas. For the next three months, this will be your home. Your counselors will introduce themselves shortly, and separate you into your groups, but first let us pray."
Some of the kids bowed their heads, by habit so did I, though I kept my eyes open to look around. Sosha, Jackson, and a short red-headed boy named Alan, looked proudly upwards. Emily was still crying, but softer now than before. Andrea seemed completely bored, and stared up at the ceiling. The prayer was the typical one for the Church "Praise the Lord God, we pray that we keep His ways and that we stay glorious in His sight. We pray for forgiveness of our wrongdoings. We pray that the lost come to find Him. Amen."
The counselors turned off the television and stepped forward. The man introduced himself as Joshua and he introduced the woman as Miriam. They told us to separate into boys and girls, and started to go down the list, "Helper. Helper. Student. Helper. Teacher. Student. Helper." The list went down through the thirty of us there, when they got to me, I was shuffled off into the "Teacher" group. The students and helpers left the hall, leaving behind the six of us who'd been given the teacher role. Emily was among us, as well as a few kids I'd not met.
Joshua and Miriam came over, discussed amongst themselves for a few minutes, and told us where we were to go. "Christopher, you'll be going to the farm. Emily, you'll be going to the nursery. Adam, to the farm." I raised my hand, and when it went unnoticed, I cleared my throat and asked.
"I'm sorry, I've never worked on the farm, and I'm supposed to teach others how to work on a farm?" The other teachers looked over at me, stunned I would talk back to the orders given.
"Christopher." Joshua turned back to me, and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me a broad smile that looked, to me, like that of a lion smiling at a gazelle. "We will teach you, and God will provide for you to be able to pass your knowledge on to the others. Being a teacher is a good thing. We could have made you a student, but you're a smart boy, and I know you'll do well."
With those words, I was let out of the room. We were brought to the dining area - a large open room with several tables. There were more children than the thirty we came in with, and I, along with the other teachers, was sat at a 'special table' and our meal seemed a bit more robust than the other childrens' meals. We spoke to some of the others we'd be working with. Adam was an arrogant kid, with blond hair, blue eyes, and an obvious piety. Every other word was "God" or "Church" or "Holy." He sneered towards the tables of Helpers and Students, calling them "unworthy" and "broken." Inwardly I thought it was his attitude that had him brought here.
Halfway through dinner, we heard a loud scream. Emily quickly got out of her seat and ran over to the Helper table, where Laura was busy throwing food, knocking her plate off the table. Emily wrapped her arms around her sister and held her close, rocking back and forth, easing the troubled girl out of her episode. I caught a glimpse of the counselors, and Adam, sneering in what could only be called hate at the poor young girl.
We left to our dorms - boys and girls separated, ages separated. I was in the dorm with fifteen boys my age. Our clothes were laid out - pure white shirts, black pants, even down to our underwear which were the same white as the shirts. We were sleeping on bunks, and when the lights went out, I did not. I stared at the ceiling above me, stared at the walls, felt the place was like a prison. My heart started to beat, my chest hurt. I was panicking. I shuffled out of bed, walked to the door and pushed it open.
I expected an alarm or a chaperone nearby, but none of that was there. The fresh air filled my lungs, and I breathed in and out, calming myself down. The camp was dark, and frightening, but I had to walk to calm down more. I stepped out into the gravel, my feet crunching against it as I felt the air around me. As I walked, I noticed a building, surrounded by wire fencing. It was a tiny, tall building with pipes sticking out of it. Something about it terrified me. While I stared, I heard some crunching nearby and hid behind a tree.
A few counselors were dragging a black kid who was struggling and cursing. They dragged him, ignoring him. "This one's been here for two weeks. Isn't it a little early to get rid of him?"
"It's never too early to cleanse this filth from our camp. He's a blight on our species and should be punished."
"I hate this, but our God said it is the way. 'If a Child misbehaves, take him to the center of town and stone him until he is dead.' Our way is much more humane."
"You always look to the Book. I just want to get rid of his kind. We got four of them today." The counselors opened the door to the building and threw the kid inside, slamming it behind him. I watched, listening to the kid's yelling and screaming from the building. The second counselor - the racist one - opened a box on the side of the building and flicked a switch.
The building seemed to shudder, the pipes hissed, and I heard the kid's voice stop for a moment, before a bloodcurdling scream issued out of the room. I heard his fists pounding on the door as he screamed and yelled and cried. The two counselors just watched, listening as the pounding slowed, the kid's voice growing weak, pronounced with coughs and gasps, until it was silenced, and the sound of a metal grate sliding away filled the air.
I barfed, I couldn't help myself. I knew what had just happened. The counselors walked away, not hearing me as I shuddered and gasped for air. That delicious meal I'd just been served now decorated the ground near the tree. I was sweating, I could hear my heart in my ears. I tore back to my room and closed the door, running into the bathroom. I clicked the light, washed my face and stared into the mirror.
"Where did mom and dad send me!?"
---
Go to Part 2
I startled awake, the bus bouncing a little bit in the night along the road. I shifted, feeling the arm of the kid next to my under my head. I bolted upwards, idly playing at my all-too-short-for-me locks and mumbled an apology to Jackson. I'd just met him on this bus trip. He was the kind of guy a girl could fall for - beautiful dark brown eyes, short-cropped, nicely styled black hair, a smile that lit my heart on fire. Of course, the fact I wasn't physically a girl was why I was on this bus in the first place.
It had come in the mail about a week ago - an invitation, a brochure. "It'll do you good, Christopher." My father said. "We just don't want to see you make a mistake." My mother echoed, nodding and smiling at my father. "This place helps kids like you. Sets them straight, puts them on the right path to God."
I didn't want to be 'fixed' like they wanted. I was good enough for me. It had gone to Hell for me when my mother caught me in the clothes that felt 'right.' I was impatient, I was too set in my ways. They'd left for a weekend trip, leaving me to go into the back of my closet where I'd stored the skirt and the top. An old bra, stuffed to give me at least some curves. Unfortunately, my mother had returned, looking for the tickets, and I was too late to rush back to my room.
They must have done some searching, found this 'camp' that would reform troubled kids. They enrolled me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I was almost 14, too young to make a decision on my own. I couldn't run, I had no where to go. The Church ran our town, and anywhere I went, they'd know. For the week after, my parents were thrilled and happy and sure they'd done the right thing.
Three months worth of clothes, packed into my bag. I was shuffled into the bus, where I sat down next to Jackson... There were a bunch of other kids there. All of whom had been sent by parents or guardians. I talked to the black girl in front of me, Sosha. She was a foster kid, shuffled between families, and she was not a Believer. She was cute - younger than me, with black hair, black eyes, and a 'baby face.' Her overzealous foster parents were shocked at her lack of belief, and sent her to the camp.
The trip was long, and we stopped often. I met the three sisters - Emily, Andrea, and Laura - all beautiful, with long blonde hair and green eyes. Emily, the oldest, was very smart and very pious, and cried the entire way. Her parents had caught her with a boy, kissing. Andrea was more of a troublemaker, from the way Emily and Laura talked about her, it was obvious she'd 'been around.' Laura was the youngest, with some kind of mental disorder that made her go into fits.
The others on the trip were similar cases - troublemakers, homosexuals, delinquents, or 'disturbed.' I didn't meet any other transgender kids, so I was scared what would happen to me while I was there. The trip coordinators were silent, chaperoning the bus without speaking to us. It was eerie, they were too... perfect.
After a twelve hour journey, we stopped at Camp Hope. It was deep in the mountains, only the thinly twisting road leading away from it. A gate pulled across the entrance, a sure sign we were not to be leaving. The coordinators stood up, welcomed us, and told us to form a line outside the bus. Our bags were still there, and some kids seemed a bit uncomfortable. "Don't worry about your bags. They will be returned to you at the end of these three months. We'll provide you with clothes. We'll provide you with toiletries. If you need anything, find your dorm leader, and they will give you what you need."
The bags were taken away, shuttered into a locked room. The bus driver pulled over, stopping next to the wall of the Camp. The two coordinators - a lovely young woman with long brown hair, and a hard-looking man with short-trimmed black hair - spoke to each other for a few moments, looking over the checklists in their hands. I noticed they were wearing almost identical outfits - a smart white polo shirt, and a pair of black trousers for the man, and a long black skirt for the woman. After a few moments, they motioned for us to follow.
we were taken to a long hall with benches. A television turned on, and a stern-faced older gentleman started to speak, "Welcome children, to Camp Hope. I am your Administrator, Barnabas. For the next three months, this will be your home. Your counselors will introduce themselves shortly, and separate you into your groups, but first let us pray."
Some of the kids bowed their heads, by habit so did I, though I kept my eyes open to look around. Sosha, Jackson, and a short red-headed boy named Alan, looked proudly upwards. Emily was still crying, but softer now than before. Andrea seemed completely bored, and stared up at the ceiling. The prayer was the typical one for the Church "Praise the Lord God, we pray that we keep His ways and that we stay glorious in His sight. We pray for forgiveness of our wrongdoings. We pray that the lost come to find Him. Amen."
The counselors turned off the television and stepped forward. The man introduced himself as Joshua and he introduced the woman as Miriam. They told us to separate into boys and girls, and started to go down the list, "Helper. Helper. Student. Helper. Teacher. Student. Helper." The list went down through the thirty of us there, when they got to me, I was shuffled off into the "Teacher" group. The students and helpers left the hall, leaving behind the six of us who'd been given the teacher role. Emily was among us, as well as a few kids I'd not met.
Joshua and Miriam came over, discussed amongst themselves for a few minutes, and told us where we were to go. "Christopher, you'll be going to the farm. Emily, you'll be going to the nursery. Adam, to the farm." I raised my hand, and when it went unnoticed, I cleared my throat and asked.
"I'm sorry, I've never worked on the farm, and I'm supposed to teach others how to work on a farm?" The other teachers looked over at me, stunned I would talk back to the orders given.
"Christopher." Joshua turned back to me, and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me a broad smile that looked, to me, like that of a lion smiling at a gazelle. "We will teach you, and God will provide for you to be able to pass your knowledge on to the others. Being a teacher is a good thing. We could have made you a student, but you're a smart boy, and I know you'll do well."
With those words, I was let out of the room. We were brought to the dining area - a large open room with several tables. There were more children than the thirty we came in with, and I, along with the other teachers, was sat at a 'special table' and our meal seemed a bit more robust than the other childrens' meals. We spoke to some of the others we'd be working with. Adam was an arrogant kid, with blond hair, blue eyes, and an obvious piety. Every other word was "God" or "Church" or "Holy." He sneered towards the tables of Helpers and Students, calling them "unworthy" and "broken." Inwardly I thought it was his attitude that had him brought here.
Halfway through dinner, we heard a loud scream. Emily quickly got out of her seat and ran over to the Helper table, where Laura was busy throwing food, knocking her plate off the table. Emily wrapped her arms around her sister and held her close, rocking back and forth, easing the troubled girl out of her episode. I caught a glimpse of the counselors, and Adam, sneering in what could only be called hate at the poor young girl.
We left to our dorms - boys and girls separated, ages separated. I was in the dorm with fifteen boys my age. Our clothes were laid out - pure white shirts, black pants, even down to our underwear which were the same white as the shirts. We were sleeping on bunks, and when the lights went out, I did not. I stared at the ceiling above me, stared at the walls, felt the place was like a prison. My heart started to beat, my chest hurt. I was panicking. I shuffled out of bed, walked to the door and pushed it open.
I expected an alarm or a chaperone nearby, but none of that was there. The fresh air filled my lungs, and I breathed in and out, calming myself down. The camp was dark, and frightening, but I had to walk to calm down more. I stepped out into the gravel, my feet crunching against it as I felt the air around me. As I walked, I noticed a building, surrounded by wire fencing. It was a tiny, tall building with pipes sticking out of it. Something about it terrified me. While I stared, I heard some crunching nearby and hid behind a tree.
A few counselors were dragging a black kid who was struggling and cursing. They dragged him, ignoring him. "This one's been here for two weeks. Isn't it a little early to get rid of him?"
"It's never too early to cleanse this filth from our camp. He's a blight on our species and should be punished."
"I hate this, but our God said it is the way. 'If a Child misbehaves, take him to the center of town and stone him until he is dead.' Our way is much more humane."
"You always look to the Book. I just want to get rid of his kind. We got four of them today." The counselors opened the door to the building and threw the kid inside, slamming it behind him. I watched, listening to the kid's yelling and screaming from the building. The second counselor - the racist one - opened a box on the side of the building and flicked a switch.
The building seemed to shudder, the pipes hissed, and I heard the kid's voice stop for a moment, before a bloodcurdling scream issued out of the room. I heard his fists pounding on the door as he screamed and yelled and cried. The two counselors just watched, listening as the pounding slowed, the kid's voice growing weak, pronounced with coughs and gasps, until it was silenced, and the sound of a metal grate sliding away filled the air.
I barfed, I couldn't help myself. I knew what had just happened. The counselors walked away, not hearing me as I shuddered and gasped for air. That delicious meal I'd just been served now decorated the ground near the tree. I was sweating, I could hear my heart in my ears. I tore back to my room and closed the door, running into the bathroom. I clicked the light, washed my face and stared into the mirror.
"Where did mom and dad send me!?"
---
Go to Part 2
The Secret Room - Introduction
I had this severely creepy dream last night, and I thought "holy Christmas this would make a creepy little short story. Well, my writing got away from me and I am going to be releasing this as a, probably, three-parter. It's, like I said, severely creepy.
The main character is Chris. She is a trans girl of 14 years old. Though she's called 'Christopher' in the story, and everyone refers to her as a boy, she has fully accepted her identity as 'Christina.' She's sent to Camp Hope by her believing parents - a kind of reform camp for troubled youth. She meets other kids with other problems, meets a super-cute boy named Jackson, and finds out the dark secret in the camp.
The story deals with racism, homophobia and transphobia, bigotry towards atheists, ableism, indoctrination, sexism, and hatred of sexism. I'm writing this for a general audience, actually as a step down from the dream itself.
The story hinges around the Believers - kind of a mishmash of various Christianities and other monotheistic religions. This tells an extremely exaggerated message of the danger of religious thinking. It takes place in a sort of semi-modern period, maybe sometime in the future. If you're offended by how I portray the religious, then I don't really care. They're a parody.
So onward to Part 1
The main character is Chris. She is a trans girl of 14 years old. Though she's called 'Christopher' in the story, and everyone refers to her as a boy, she has fully accepted her identity as 'Christina.' She's sent to Camp Hope by her believing parents - a kind of reform camp for troubled youth. She meets other kids with other problems, meets a super-cute boy named Jackson, and finds out the dark secret in the camp.
The story deals with racism, homophobia and transphobia, bigotry towards atheists, ableism, indoctrination, sexism, and hatred of sexism. I'm writing this for a general audience, actually as a step down from the dream itself.
The story hinges around the Believers - kind of a mishmash of various Christianities and other monotheistic religions. This tells an extremely exaggerated message of the danger of religious thinking. It takes place in a sort of semi-modern period, maybe sometime in the future. If you're offended by how I portray the religious, then I don't really care. They're a parody.
So onward to Part 1
Thursday, April 12, 2012
HUGE Confidence Boost
Last night, after I'd brushed my teeth, I spotted my shirt in the mirror of my bathroom - there were some little spots from dinner (probably dropped a tomato on it.) I shrugged and took it off. Under that shirt I was just in my bra and panties - my awesome new breastforms on as well.
For the moment I saw myself in the mirror in just bra and panties, I saw a woman's body. It wasn't the "oh well I'm a woman so of course I did" sort of view of myself. This was seriously a "that's what a woman looks like" kind of view. That makes a huge difference to me because of my fear of passing properly.
I've got a feminine shape already - a touch of a pooch around my middle, but that'll go away. With hormones, as I understand, the distribution of fat will go all other places on my body to pad the parts somewhat lacking (I have no ass!) But I'm not at such a place now that I can't get there in the end. I feel all totally super-confident today because of that.
Just thought I'd share.
For the moment I saw myself in the mirror in just bra and panties, I saw a woman's body. It wasn't the "oh well I'm a woman so of course I did" sort of view of myself. This was seriously a "that's what a woman looks like" kind of view. That makes a huge difference to me because of my fear of passing properly.
I've got a feminine shape already - a touch of a pooch around my middle, but that'll go away. With hormones, as I understand, the distribution of fat will go all other places on my body to pad the parts somewhat lacking (I have no ass!) But I'm not at such a place now that I can't get there in the end. I feel all totally super-confident today because of that.
Just thought I'd share.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Press XY: Transgender Issues in Gaming
I was at PAX East this last weekend. Although, for the most part, I went for the Table Top Gaming area (Yay board games! Yay RPGs! Yay card games!) there was one actual panel I was interested in seeing. It was called "Press XY: Transgender Issues in Gaming." The panel description is linked at this page and copied below:
The first thing I noticed was that the line was as diverse as the rest of the event. There were both guys and girls, some younger than myself, others older than myself. There were trans and cisgender persons. Some in and out of costume. It was an interesting collection of people. The other thing I noticed was how many people were there. The Cat Theatre that we were shuffled into was not as small as I'd originally thought, and while there were gaps in the seating, the theatre was very nearly full.
The panel, too, was diverse. Four of the six panelists were visibly trans, two were likely cis. They were older and younger, male and female. Charles was the lead MC, the discussion was good, talking about the transgender characters that we were aware of and not aware of, both good and bad examples of transgender gaming characters. Discussions about the fact that Bridget from Guilty Gear created one of the most annoying memes to knock down (trap.) The panel, unfortunately, ran short, but they got some discussion in about the characters, issues surrounding transgender people, and the impact of being able to choose your gender as well as - with games like Saint's Row and Demon Souls - the ability to choose the degree of your masculinity and femininity.
The panel closed out with Jennell and Rebecca talking about their experiences coming out as trans in the often cutthroat gaming business. Rebecca, waiting til her children were grown, came out to Interplay and found nothing but respect and congratulations from her colleagues. Her major worry, losing her children, was no worry in the end since they both singularly said they'd stick by their mother and that they loved her regardless.
It was an excellent panel, sadly too short to get to everything they wanted to talk about, but it was overall very good and I'm glad I went.
Press XY: Transgender Issues In GamingAt first I was worried because my brother and cousin were going to be there and I didn't want to suddenly out myself to them by visiting a Transgender panel. Fortunately for me, my cousin never showed up and I was able to give my brother the slip and get into the panel without so much a sign of him.
Whether it’s Street Fighter, Guilty Gear, Resident Evil or Final Fantasy, video games have a long history of transgender characters. You’ll find no shortage of transgender people working in the industry too. Join a panel of game designers, writers, and fans to learn about some of the most interesting characters in gaming, and the impressive lineage of transgender game makers. We’ll also discuss the impact of sex and gender in blockbuster games that let players choose their sex.
Panelists:
Charles Battersby [PC/Xbox Department Lead, Player Affinity], Chris Avellone [Creative Director, Obsidian Entertainment], Rebecca Heineman [Founding Member, Interplay], Jennell Allyn Jaquays [Lead Level Designer (World of Darkness MMO), CCP North America], Morgan McCormick [Owner, Translabyrinth], Eric L. Patterson [News Editor, EGM Media, LLC]
The first thing I noticed was that the line was as diverse as the rest of the event. There were both guys and girls, some younger than myself, others older than myself. There were trans and cisgender persons. Some in and out of costume. It was an interesting collection of people. The other thing I noticed was how many people were there. The Cat Theatre that we were shuffled into was not as small as I'd originally thought, and while there were gaps in the seating, the theatre was very nearly full.
The panel, too, was diverse. Four of the six panelists were visibly trans, two were likely cis. They were older and younger, male and female. Charles was the lead MC, the discussion was good, talking about the transgender characters that we were aware of and not aware of, both good and bad examples of transgender gaming characters. Discussions about the fact that Bridget from Guilty Gear created one of the most annoying memes to knock down (trap.) The panel, unfortunately, ran short, but they got some discussion in about the characters, issues surrounding transgender people, and the impact of being able to choose your gender as well as - with games like Saint's Row and Demon Souls - the ability to choose the degree of your masculinity and femininity.
The panel closed out with Jennell and Rebecca talking about their experiences coming out as trans in the often cutthroat gaming business. Rebecca, waiting til her children were grown, came out to Interplay and found nothing but respect and congratulations from her colleagues. Her major worry, losing her children, was no worry in the end since they both singularly said they'd stick by their mother and that they loved her regardless.
It was an excellent panel, sadly too short to get to everything they wanted to talk about, but it was overall very good and I'm glad I went.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
More Ranting, but of a Slightly Less Angry Nature
Parts of this will be sort of TMI, I'll admit right up front, but bear with me.
When I was growing up in the Christian Church, I was constantly reminded that I was made by God. Whether it was my pastor going over that one Jeremiah verse or some of the songs we sang on Sunday morning or in Youth Group. I was reminded that everything I was, God fashioned right out of his own mind and his own desires. I was made with specific goals in mind and he would raise me up for some purpose.
Even at 15 or 16 I thought God fucked up somewhere along the line. I've already explained the fact my most common prayer growing up was "God, make me a girl" or alternatively "God, make me want to be a boy." Even when I was young I knew things were wrong, and I knew I felt weird. I crossdressed, I played girls' roles in imagination games with my friends, I would go online and erect a female persona, and if I had the opportunity, I'd play as a female character in a video game.
Almost every morning from puberty on, I've woken up with this completely, and quite literally painfully, obvious reminder of how much of a guy I am. Every time I see a naked or sexy image, I'm reminded I'm a guy. Standing around people I'm attracted to reminds me I'm a guy. I couldn't do anything about it though.
In my youthful mind, God made me this way. God built me into a male-bodied person. I had to live with that or I'd be messing with his plan. It would be easily within his power, he could look at his "Kevin.D.1212" program and change the Ys to Xs. He could tweak that little annoying nagging part of my brain that screamed "I am not a guy!" every time I felt arousal.
Without God in my life now, I'm trapped in this world where I am the way I am, but I can't do anything about it either. It's no longer the fear of pissing off my creator that keeps me from talking about it, but the fear of losing everything that I have. My extended family will almost definitely abandon me, I'm pretty sure my immediate family would, I don't know how many friends would stand by me when I'm having the problems that are sure to come, and although I can't be fired (the head honcho for my company passed a fully-encompassing ENDA) there's no guarantee my job won't suddenly become Hell.
It's scary to me, but it's depressing at the same time. I don't like who I am, and I don't like waking up every morning with this feeling that I shouldn't have what I have. It's disgusting to me, and I would change it in a heartbeat if I could. I just don't know where, or how, to start, and each day I get older and further and further separated from being able to do anything about it.
When I was growing up in the Christian Church, I was constantly reminded that I was made by God. Whether it was my pastor going over that one Jeremiah verse or some of the songs we sang on Sunday morning or in Youth Group. I was reminded that everything I was, God fashioned right out of his own mind and his own desires. I was made with specific goals in mind and he would raise me up for some purpose.
Even at 15 or 16 I thought God fucked up somewhere along the line. I've already explained the fact my most common prayer growing up was "God, make me a girl" or alternatively "God, make me want to be a boy." Even when I was young I knew things were wrong, and I knew I felt weird. I crossdressed, I played girls' roles in imagination games with my friends, I would go online and erect a female persona, and if I had the opportunity, I'd play as a female character in a video game.
Almost every morning from puberty on, I've woken up with this completely, and quite literally painfully, obvious reminder of how much of a guy I am. Every time I see a naked or sexy image, I'm reminded I'm a guy. Standing around people I'm attracted to reminds me I'm a guy. I couldn't do anything about it though.
In my youthful mind, God made me this way. God built me into a male-bodied person. I had to live with that or I'd be messing with his plan. It would be easily within his power, he could look at his "Kevin.D.1212" program and change the Ys to Xs. He could tweak that little annoying nagging part of my brain that screamed "I am not a guy!" every time I felt arousal.
Without God in my life now, I'm trapped in this world where I am the way I am, but I can't do anything about it either. It's no longer the fear of pissing off my creator that keeps me from talking about it, but the fear of losing everything that I have. My extended family will almost definitely abandon me, I'm pretty sure my immediate family would, I don't know how many friends would stand by me when I'm having the problems that are sure to come, and although I can't be fired (the head honcho for my company passed a fully-encompassing ENDA) there's no guarantee my job won't suddenly become Hell.
It's scary to me, but it's depressing at the same time. I don't like who I am, and I don't like waking up every morning with this feeling that I shouldn't have what I have. It's disgusting to me, and I would change it in a heartbeat if I could. I just don't know where, or how, to start, and each day I get older and further and further separated from being able to do anything about it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)