Contents
I Want You in
Demolition Mode.
"The Oxley Street Home of Girl Charm for Budding Transitions." What a lovely sounding name for a clinic, so safe, so secure, “Home”, “Girl Charm,” perfect for cocooning, protected from prying eyes until the transformation is complete. Metamorphosis, I think that is the technical term but I found it first on the internet as “Tranny” and knew right away, that was for me.
Sure, I knew the risks, loss of family, rejection, a life on street corners looking for love from strangers, but I also read the success stories, home making with strong loving men, caring men, that didn’t care about children, at least not natural children, adoption would be great, why not, it happens all the time. And sure, my body wasn’t right, maybe that would change with the hormones, and didn’t some men like big girls, “Chubby Chasers” I think they are called and my big shoulders and heavy legs just might be an asset, you just don’t know.
What I do know is I would be a perfect home maker, dinner on the table when my tired man gets home, cuddles on the couch watching TV, then hours of intimacy being spooned by my satisfied man.
Whap! I felt the slap of coaches hand on my helmet and then his fists coming down on my shoulder pads as he yelled, “Focus boy, get your head in the game. Now remember, you are our Sherman tank, our full back battering ram and when you get that hand off I want you in demolition mode, stop for nothing till you reach that goal post, like we trained.”
Then the slow rumbling of our fans stamping their feet on the bleachers, getting louder and louder until the locker room shook. When the crescendo reached its peak coach yelled, “Ladies, it’s our time, go out there and give em hell.” “Ladies,” I liked the sound of that, did coach know about me? Maybe we were all like me, oh what a wonderful thought.”
Contents
"The Oxley Street Home of Girl Charm for Budding Transitions." What a lovely sounding name for a clinic, so safe, so secure, “Home”, “Girl Charm,” perfect for cocooning, protected from prying eyes until the transformation is complete. Metamorphosis, I think that is the technical term but I found it first on the internet as “Tranny” and knew right away, that was for me.
Sure, I knew the risks, loss of family, rejection, a life on street corners looking for love from strangers, but I also read the success stories, home making with strong loving men, caring men, that didn’t care about children, at least not natural children, adoption would be great, why not, it happens all the time. And sure, my body wasn’t right, maybe that would change with the hormones, and didn’t some men like big girls, “Chubby Chasers” I think they are called and my big shoulders and heavy legs just might be an asset, you just don’t know.
What I do know is I would be a perfect home maker, dinner on the table when my tired man gets home, cuddles on the couch watching TV, then hours of intimacy being spooned by my satisfied man.
Whap! I felt the slap of coaches hand on my helmet and then his fists coming down on my shoulder pads as he yelled, “Focus boy, get your head in the game. Now remember, you are our Sherman tank, our full back battering ram and when you get that hand off I want you in demolition mode, stop for nothing till you reach that goal post, like we trained.”
Then the slow rumbling of our fans stamping their feet on the bleachers, getting louder and louder until the locker room shook. When the crescendo reached its peak coach yelled, “Ladies, it’s our time, go out there and give em hell.” “Ladies,” I liked the sound of that, did coach know about me? Maybe we were all like me, oh what a wonderful thought.”
Warren Crane 2011 ©
Contents