index


Message-ID: <62078asstr$1334581804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: TBD <tbd@hushmail.me>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Cancel-Lock: sha1:37TLtP0hBi84EwK8mPGVyJnlhNg=
Subject: {ASSM} The Transgendered Stories (transgendered, nosex) TBD
Lines: 582
Date: Mon, 16 Apr 2012 09:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The Transgendered Stories (transgendered, nosex)
---

accidental-TG caution no-sex  (1/?)
---

There are no sexual squicks in this story.

The caution is because there are places where I try to convey how a
person feels while living through, and fighting to recover from,
severe emotional trauma.  If you are still recovering from some
emotional trauma of your own - this story may not be for you.
---

The Differences Between Men and Women
Chapter 1
---

I don't know *when* to start so I'll just...  Start somewhere and see
if it makes sense to me.  I can always go back later and reorganize
things if they don't make sense.

I'm Charles and my wife's name is Stella.  We're in the body-swap
recovery ward.  Neither one of us wants to be here but we didn't have
a choice in the matter.

Never mind.  That's what this this is all about.  We're involuntary
swaps.  I'm in her body and she's in mine.  How?  I'll get there.  Be
patient.
* * *

The long hair isn't such a big deal.  I can deal with that part of
this whole body swap routine.  Stella tells me it's eerie when she
watches her body make that casual flip of the head that puts my hair
back where it belongs.  "It's the same motion but it's not."

I agree.  There's a certain amount of 'motion memory' that tells me
when I'm not doing something right.

My hands are too sensitive.  I was a working man.  Calloused, rough,
my hands were as sensitive as they could be for someone who worked
with his hands.

Now that I'm in Stella's body I'm almost afraid to touch anything with
my hands.  Sensory overload.  The lightest touch makes me flinch back.
I'm always dropping things.  My mind is 'programmed' to use a certain
amount of pressure to tell me when I have a firm grip.  If I listen to
my automatic reactions, because of the extra sensitivity, I never grip
hard enough.

Stella, of course, has the opposite problem.  She tends to crush
things.

No wonder the transfer crew refuses to let us go outside our area.

The folks here are good about it.  They've spent years helping people
relearn their bodies.

It's the situation that frustrates them.

Usually the people making the switch are uncomfortable with their
original bodies for some reason.  They *want* to give up one gender
for the other.

We didn't volunteer for the switch.  That means there are no backup
recordings to put us back in our original bodies.

How did it happen?  A car wreck.  Not ours.  A drunk driver hit the
main pole near our house and caused a power surge in our VR headsets
just as we were shutting them down.  The spike fried the headsets and
in the process somehow swapped our patterns.

Don't ask us.  The techno wizzes all mutter about ram and rom and
burned traces and engrams and field surges that destabilized both of
us and then restabilized but with the fried equipment somehow retuned
for the wrong bodies.

All I know is that it felt like someone stuck my head in the gas
heater and turned up the heat.  Naturally, I passed out.  So did
Stella.

When I woke up, I was strapped down and I felt a lot more than the
simple headache I vaguely expected.

Anyway, we both survived.  That helps a lot.  At least we can ask each
other for advice on how to run our new bodies.

The doctors insist that until we are settled in and have full control
of our new bodies, they aren't going to attempt to record us.  We're
not happy about it but after they showed us movies of what happens
when unstabilized minds are transferred back to their original bodies,
we readily agreed to wait.

Calling the resulting body 'a twitching, drooling mass of spasming
flesh' - is being kind.  Stella and I would rather live the rest of
our lives as each other.

To get back to things, it was weeks before either of us learned enough
to be able to tell the doctors our minds were in the wrong bodies.

The equipment told the doctors that two functioning brains were in two
functioning bodies.  It never occurred to them to check our patterns
to see if we wore the *correct* bodies.

To give her credit, it was Stella who managed to communicate the
problem.  Until she managed to croak the words "I am Stella - wrong
body!", the staff thought they were dealing with major mental trauma
that had caused us to lose much of our normal control.

I guess I should back up a bit.

Dr. Johns suggested that we dictate our stories rather than try and
tell them any other way.

"Charles, Stella, don't worry about the physical things for now.
Speech and hearing are still the primary ways everything is
communicated.  Now, more than ever, you need to regain those links
with the world.  Sure, some things are automatic.  They have to be or
nobody would survive a transfer.  People usually have time before a
transfer to learn ways of dealing with the frustrations involved.  You
two didn't have that chance."  She shook her head sadly and then
looked around.  I was still having trouble interpreting some of the
images from my eyes but the tones in her voice helped.  "What happened
was a fluke.  I've searched the records and nobody has seen anything
like it.  Some researchers are rechecking people who have survived VR
failures to see if they are actually unwilling transfers who never
gained control of the new body or....  Were too scrambled to be able
to do so."

"You don't have the control to do more than try and dictate what
happened.  It will help the two of you recover.  We can tell you some
of the basics but when you get down to it, how well and how soon you
recover is going to be up to you."

"How.  Long?  Recovery?"  What an effort those words took.  I had to
decide what I wanted to say.  Then I had to consciously think about
how to say them.  After all that, I had to carefully take my body
though each step and hope I did it right.

"We don't know.  Months to get good basic control.  Solid recovery?
Maybe years."

I couldn't help it.  I cried.  I thought I heard Stella doing the
same.  I managed to turn my head so I could see Stella.  Somehow we
managed to get our hands together.  We never noticed when the doctor
left.

That conversation took place just days after Stella told them the
problem.  We managed to convince the staff to put us in the same bed.
We spent hours savoring the contact of our bodies.  Just knowing we
were together after those weeks of being isolated - helped.

We were cautioned about doing anything more than just letting our
hands rest flat on each other.  One nurse came in, closed the door and
then studied us before speaking.

"I don't think anyone has warned you yet.  No matter how much you want
it, forget about sex for now."  I couldn't see her face but I heard
her smile and slight amusement.  "I know you're going to try and
comfort each other.  You'll find out what I'm talking about.  Best you
do it tonight while I'm on shift and can cover for you."  I heard the
door open and then sigh closed again.

We tried.  After it was over, we buzzed for the nurse.  She calmly
treated our bruises and scratches, hugged us both and then left us
alone while we cried.  I'll tell you about it later.  Right now I'm
trying to organize my thoughts.

I'm looking at the words on the screen.  I had to stop and cry.  I'm
not used to crying.  It's so easy for me to cry now.  Stella cries
too.  The words don't show all the pauses.  You don't get to see the
mistakes and misunderstood words.

The screen is like this room.

Clinical.

Sterile.

Cold.

Unfeeling.

The screen doesn't show you how long it took Stella to walk over and
sit in the chair.  It doesn't show you my faltering steps as I went
over and sat in her lap.

You can't see the bruises on my body from when she hugs me too tight.
She's getting better about controlling her strength.  Her touches are
lighter now.  She's able to caress me without my screaming from the
pain caused by too much pressure.

It helps.

She gently holds me while I gingerly position the microphone.  There
are no headsets in the room.  When they came in and tried to fit us,
we both screamed in horror and went catatonic as soon as we saw them.
We still do.  We had to have help training the voice recognition
software.  The picture of a headset causes us to go into convulsions
and then catatonia.

The therapists got together with the company and had them write a
custom version of the software.  Other specialists went through and
tried to delete any pictures still on the system.

They had to.  If we see a picture of a headset, we go catatonic for a
couple of days.

Trauma.  It's hell.  It's all we can do to use the computer sometimes.
We can't watch TV or movies.

We read a lot more than we used to.  No choice.

Isolated.

So isolated.
* * *

I'm feeling a little better now.

Stella and I had been idly dangling our feet in a mountain stream.

"We really should get something to eat."  Stella's avatar smiled at
me.

My own avatar splashed his feet a few more times before sighing.
"Yeah."

I turned my head to kiss her and our real lips met.  We held that kiss
as we initiated the shutdown sequence.

Just as her avatar started to fade, there was a flash of light.  I
think I screamed.  I think I felt her body go limp.  I was still
recovering from the flash of light and thinking: 'Something's wrong!'
- when I passed out.
* * *

I'm groggy.  Something doesn't seem right.  Darkness.  Jumbled
feelings.  Terror.

Take control.  Perform the usual VR disconnect exercises.  "I live.  I
breathe.  My mind is rejoining my body."

Union.

Wrongness.

Ears hear...  Noise.

Eyes see...  Shapes that make no sense.

Disoriented.

Command body to move.  Feeble response.  Feel restrained.

"What happened?"  Ears hear random grunts.

Something contacts my body.  Large blur in field of view.  Grunts.
More contacts.  Feel body move slightly.

Feels wrong.

Vision, sounds, awareness - fade to nothingness.  Somewhere, terror
remains.
* * *

Awake again.  Open eyes.

Vivid colors.  I'm in a room that I've never seen.  I turn my head.
Seems like hours but must have been minutes as my mind assembled the
image.

White sheets.  Curtains just beyond.  Later I realize there is a
window.

I'm looking in a mirror.  I have to be.  I see myself.

But my eyes are closed.

Something in me starts to gibber.  Am I dying?

I turn my head back and stare at the ceiling.  At least I recognize it
as a ceiling.

White.

Stark.

Noise.  I turn towards it.

Again, that feeling of assembly as the image forms.  White.  Lab
coats.

I rummage through my memories and find a label.  'Doctors.'

"What happened?"  I hear grunts.  I see frowns.  White looms over me.
Slow grunts. A pause.  More grunts.

The white leaves.

Silence.

Terror sets in.  I shiver.  I feel my chest shiver in counterpoint to
my body.

Puzzlement.

I look down.

Horror as I recognize my chest.

It's Stella's chest.

I roll my head to that earlier vision.

My eyes are open and filled with horror.

My mouth moves and grunts come out.

I watch as my eyes fill with a terror that mirrors my own.

This body begins to react.  I try to force the reaction to one side. I
struggle in a losing battle.  Just before the welcome blankness, I see
my eyes fill with the one I love.

Stella is there.  I hope she saw me.

'Stella lives!'

I held that thought as blankness gave me peace.
* * *

Alertness.  Terror is still there but muted.  My mind is clearing.  I
can think again.  Plan.

Calm resolve.  I'm in Stella's body and she must be in mine.  No help
for it.  Adapt.

How?

Solution.

'Avatar.'  Treat situation like new VR set with unprogrammed
connections.

Begin.

'See.'  Eyes open and return an image.  I know I'm in a hospital.  I
start to assign names to specific parts of the image.  When I'm not
certain, I reluctantly ignore that object.

'Turn head.'  I note the internal sequence for later.  I'm beginning
to get a feel for this.  I can issue some 'commands' and let the body
take over.  Wish I'd paid more attention to body swapping.  I hate
this fumbling.

'See.'  I recognize my body.  I assign names to things around it.

"Stella."  I know it's a series of grunts.  She turns my head.

She grunts.  I see tears of frustration.  I blink in sympathy.

I take a deep breath and slowly speak the 26 letters of the alphabet.
She's puzzled.

I repeat them.  Her eyes widen in understanding after the third
repetition.  She shakes her head and produces 26 grunts of her own.  I
manage to shake my head in denial.  They didn't sound right.

We ignored the nurse when she checked on us.

I manage to assign words to some of the nurse's grunts.  Stella later
told me that she also managed to start putting words to sounds.

It felt strange.  We heard and slowly managed to understand what
others were saying.  Our private conversations became more certain but
we remained unintelligible to others.

Weeks.

We learned to reproduce ordinary speech by rote.  Our own
communication is more certain.

We have some basic control of our new bodies.

Stella has proven better at parroting normal speech.

One day, try.

Stella to nurse.  "Get.  Doctor."

Nurse jerks in surprise.  Nods and leaves room.

Returns.

Doctor.  Looms over Stella.

Stella takes deep breath.  Carefully rehearsed words.  "I.  Am.
Stella.  Wrong.  Body!"  She sags back and stares at doctor.

Doctor flinches.  Looks at me.  I see eyes widen.  I nod as best I
can.

Unusual sight.  Forever in memory.  Doctor.  Tears.

"Both of you?!"  Horror filled whisper.  "Ohmygod..."  She stops.
Shivers.  Hugs each of us.  "I'm so sorry.  No way of knowing.  We
didn't think to check.  I'll get you help... Ohmygod..."

Doctor leaves room.

Stella smiles at me.

Success.

First victory.

Sweet.

Hope for future - returns.
---

End: chapter one
======

The Differences Between Men and Women
Chapter 2
---

Blank.

Gingerly, I ease myself backwards in time.

Charles and I leaned towards each other, kissed, held it...

Intense light. Pain. Screams.

Mine?

His?

Endless searching. Both.

I try to scream again as his arms spasm and force me against his stiff
body.

No breath to scream.

I feel myself convulse.

Nothing.
---

End: abandoned work 
======


I sometimes look for ways to explore new things as a writer.  Recently
I realized that while I, personally happen to be bi-sexual and
transgendered, I've never deliberately written something from that
pov.

Here is my first story that deliberately looks at love from the
transgendered pov.

It's short but I hope it captures some of the frustrations the
transgendered sometimes experience.  
---

Bisexual, Transgendered, In Love
---

"Needs, love.  Let us talk of needs and desires.  Mine.  Yours.
Ultimately, ours."

He looked at me oddly.  "Are you sure you want to hold this
conversation?"

I sighed and put my hands together.  I looked down and held back most
of my tears.  I nodded my head at my hands.  My fingers were a
twisting, writhing mass. "What does that tell you?"

He stayed silent.

"I'm scared.  Nervous.  Yet...  I'm so deeply in love--with you--that
for the first time in my life I regret that I wear a man's body."

"I've never..."

I looked up and interrupted him.  "This body, for this first time in
my life..."  I sighed.  "I'm transgendered.  Known it for years.  Told
others.  Told you.  Been comfortable, more or less, with that
awareness.  I don't crossdress.  I've never felt the need.  I'm
bisexual.  I love being around women and men.  I dream of finding
myself with a woman who loves me.  I dream of her touch.  I fantasize
about fucking her.  I dream of feeling her hot, sweaty body against
mine."

"I've dreamt of finding a man I could fall in love with.  I want to
love him as a man.  I want to feel his penis in my ass.  I want to
suckle him and taste his scrotum.  I want to use everything I've
learned about male sexuality by exploring my own...  To give him
pleasure and help him satisfy my own male lust.  I want to feel his
lust driven cock and pubes hammering at me.  I want to hammer him with
my own.  I want to share love and lust as only two men can.  I want to
feel the love and lust that is intensified by the self-knowledge that
comes from understanding the bodies we share."

"Then, unexpectedly, without warning...  For the first time in my life
I feel the tingling desire to have a man take me as he would a woman.
I want him to see me as a woman, not a man.  I fantasize about him
touching me, exploring me.  If he desires it, I would willingly let
him explore my body sexually.  I would give him my asshole so he can
satisfy himself.  I have no thoughts of masturbation while he takes
me.  In my fantasies I stay limp.  My penis refuses to react to the
delights it is familiar with.  My nerves have been rerouted.  I want
to savor every stroke.  I want to feel his pulsing.  I want to taste
his semem and swallow it.  But all of this doesn't arouse the male
part of me.  It doesn't excite a lust that demands I masturbate to
orgasm.  

"It makes me hate this body because I know I can't give him what he
truly desires.   Instead, all I can do is risk destroying a friendship
that has survived so much.  All I can do is tell him how I feel and
dream of a day when he might find a way to explore a deeper
relationship with me as I want to explore one with him."

I paused.  The uncomfortable silence enveloped us.  I wanted to know
what he was thinking.  I knew my own thoughts.  I knew my own intense
desires.  His presence, normally relaxing and just comfortable to
feel...  Had, without warning, without my willing it...  Had become so
intensely male that for the first time in my life I was conscious of a
man in a way that brought out every female aspect of my personality. I
didn't want him as a male friend I could bond with as a male.  I
wanted to reach out and touch him lightly.  I wanted to hold him.  I
wanted...

I wanted to help him deal with what I was doing to him.  He didn't ask
for this.  I knew he didn't want this.

And my feelings, my desires, had overwhelmed my normal thinking.  I'd
lost it and told him how I felt.

Now, somehow, we had to deal with the situation I'd created between
us.

I looked up and caught his eyes with mine.  "I've tried to read you,
get a feel for what you want in a partner.  Everything you've hinted
at tells me that if you did find one, did feel the desire to seek a
full relationship, a woman is at the center of those dreams.  I accept
that but it frustrates me that when you see me, you see a man. There's
no real way for you to see the woman that lurks within."

"You've never done anything to encourage any sort of relationship
other than friendship.  I know that.  I treasure that in so many ways.
I have the feeling that you treasure our friendship, too--and on a
deep level I will never fully understand."

"I sound selfish.  I'm acting selfishly and I know it.  My feelings
and desires are to give you pleasure.  If that means hiding,
suppressing this new awareness I have, well, I can do that for you,
for us.  But inside...  Ahh, inside.  I won't deny my feelings.  I
won't deny my desires.  I will hold them close, I will let them flow
through me so I can learn to deal with them and move on with life, our
lives, no matter how we decide to interact.

"But all the while, I will hate this body and the way it traps me.  I
hate the way it denies me the chance to let you see me as a woman, a
woman who desires a chance to feel a man's caring touch.  I am a woman
who desires a chance to feel your touch and no other's.  I want you to
explore my body.  I want you to seek your fantasies with my help."

"Touch me, love.  Taste me.  Probe me.  Talk to me.  Give me a chance
someday."

"I'll be waiting for your decision."

"I love you."
---

End:  Transgendered work
======

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+


  index