Transformation

黑船来航 · 发表于 2019-6-15 00:22:23

Warning!!! my story is not for the faint hearted.

Please do not try anything I describe in my story, without
doing some proper research, so you have good understanding of the dangers of extreme body Modification.

"The story you are about to read is true, the names have been changed to protect the innocent", as well as protect my safety and anonymity as a medically altered Female Hermaphrodite.
In my short forty-nine years, I have practiced most of the organized religions and found them for the most part devoid of the Creator's footprints. Moving on, I tried out the more primitive ways to spiritual enlightenment, through hallucinogenic drugs coupled with vast amounts of pain.
I first experimented with simple self-repeated piercing of my nipples and genitals from small sewing needles to large hatpins to heighten the spiritual experience. Then I moved onto the more rewarding though painful forms of self-genital mutations, such as using a knife to cut my nipples near in half, as well as slice open the head of hated penis as well as the sides of the bond scrotum. In the end I used fire as the ultimate purifier, taking up large candles to burn the surface of the skin, as well as hand bent coat hanger wire to brand and sear deeper into the flesh. However having not reached my goal of complete purification and atonement for being born a freak, In desperation I made several attempts at complete self-emasculation to rid me of the evil boy parts.
In the end, after countless hours of pain and agony, I found that, I am what I am, as Pop Eye would say, and if someday I find a way to rid myself of the boy parts, it would be great. However, until then I will perform the tasks that I believe the Creator created me to do, and find a way to be content with how She made me, as well as continuing to serve and take care of all those souls that in some way need my help.

Prologue

My narrative has its beginnings in a small town, located in the high mountains of Arkansas, and continues with my transformation back to my original female form while living in a small singlewide mobile home in Washington State.

Oh course most of the information I use in this short bio especially the parts about my early childhood, comes from my abusive father, his bothers, and what I could drag out of the rest of my family over the past ten plus years.
To give a little background to my demented lineage, my blood father moved my mother and me from the high mountains of Arkansas in the late fifties, starting up a small legal/illegal photo business through the end of the fifties and sixties, when censorship in this country had reached its peak. I must admit that using some of the best high-end cameras of the day, he took excellent nude photographs for his rich clients as well soon became a heavy supplier of illegal images in the local underground **o market. Yet, he also shot a lot of independent action photos, car wrecks, and the like, for the local newspapers to give the impression that his photo business was legit.
Having no scruples what so ever when it came to sex, my blood father would photograph whatever the client would pay for. For instants the clients might want shot a simple roll of playful nudes of a client's wife, to spice up a flagging marriage, to revenge photos of a drunken ex-girlfriend to show to her male friends. However, his specialty lay in taking graphic erotically charged photos of say a rich man's young mistress and or favorite hooker, for his eyes only and far from the eyes of his aging wife.
However disregarding any form of morality or integrity, without the clients knowledge, my father made and sold prints of all his naked and sexual graphic subjects, and as for my private use as I reached age, I came into play only as a side issue. In case one of his more twisted clients became unhappy, after they found out he had sold his wife's naked pictures to other perverts to jack off to.

You my readers make up your own mind as the truth or falsehood of my story. Just take into consideration I have looked with the help of some very well trained professional people and found no birth certificate. Yet, Learning along the way that in small towns, parents, and town folk would and still do cover up the very existence of strange abnormal births.

Due mostly to the child's untimely demise and disposal, and said births would not be registered with the county or state nor even written down in the family bible, for fear of a deadly curse falling upon them.
Also, before you dismiss me out of hand, please remember how hard my family tried to conceal my true hermaphroditic nature from me. All in hopes of preventing my tainted blood from spreading to any new offspring, and so cursing the family with unspeakable misfortune, for their omission in allowing me to live.

Chapter One. Birth and Blood

Sometime around six thirty in the evening, on the thirty first of October in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and fifty six, while small homemade goblins, witches, and ghosts ran laughing from house to house, collecting sweat treats and played harmless tricks on the town folk. An exhausted young female/my mother lay in a blood soaked bed weeping uncontrollability.
Her hysterical blubbering finding its roots solely in the fact that in her eyes, and the eyes of her family, she had just given birth to a squalling demon straight from the bowels of hell. She would not even allow the ageing midwife that had facilitated her birthing to come near her with the abomination baring between its legs the most hideous of all sexual abnormalities.

My father told me nearing his own death, that my mother could do nothing but shriek for him or the midwife to kill her me before, the horror of god's wrath, could get a toe hold on life.

Unmoved by sentiment or the chaos caused by my mothers screaming for my murder, the midwife did what she always did when the birthed child had come into the world with some form of major deformity.
Without emotion or compassion she took me over to the stainless steel sink, filled the sink with tap water. Then not taking time to wash off the blood of birthing, plopped what she saw as an unholy deformed infant, down into the sink, in anticipation of the small lungs filling with water, and a quick painless death by drowning.
All the while she went back to attend to the dangerous aftereffects of childbirth, caring for the far more important person in the room needing her help, that of my mother.
However, when she returned to the sink to dispose of the excepted sunken corpse she found that I had somehow rolled over in the water onto my back and so did not sank to the bottom of the stainless steel sink, but floated like the witches of the middle ages were purported to do.

What later transpired between that aging midwife, and my blood parents, that kept me among the living, my father could not or would not relay to me. All he would say on the subject, was that if my grandmother had not forced my parents to send me to the UW Hospital in Seattle Washington, where following my mother and grandfathers demands, well meaning doctors, mutilated my hidden female sex in favor of the more prominent outer male sexual apparatus. He, and or one of his bothers would have hiked up into the high forest at night. There to leave me on the naked on the pine needles, as an evening snack for the sharp-toothed creatures, that roamed the forest at night looking for a quick meal.

Chapter 2. Knowledge

All through my childhood right up to my thirty-fourth year of life, I had no Idea I was born with what is now called a gender nonspecific deformity or hermaphroditic. I only knew that I had always felt wrong in the male clothes and social roles my mother and society force upon me.
However, a few months before my thirty-fifth birthdays, my life took a one hundred and eighty degree shift upside down. It all started when I began to experience a series of sharp pains on both sides of my lower abdomen and when the discomfort caused me to faint one night while buying cigarettes at a local neighborhood store. The kind Oriental owner that knew me from my patronage, called 911 and the paramedics promptly transported to a nearby emergency room.
After doing all the normal blood tests, and finding only an elevated white count due to an infection of some sort, the uncertainty compelled the emergency room doctor, to order an ultrasound. However, the moment the lab worker placed the cold paddle on my belly, unbeknownst to me everything I thought I knew about my life up to that point seemed to turn inside out.

It did not take more then a few minutes of his looking at the ultra scan of my lower abdomen, before the lab worker removed the paddle off my gel slick belly, stood up, and walked out of the room muttering something I did not catch. Well as for me, I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead, and I remember thinking to myself it must be bad for him to walk out like that, or worse something deadly like cancer.

However, a few minutes later the lab worker came back into the room, flanked now by a smartly dressed doctor, that I had not so far met. Getting right down to business the doctor instructed the lab worker to repeat my belly scan while he watched the small black and white screen, and to my surprise as he watched, his lips curled up in a slight smile.
Apprehensive of this grinning medical practitioner, but still suffering from a great deal of pain, I did not question further. Just swallowed the pink and blue pills he handed me, downing with a small paper cup of water. He then asked me politely to get redress, and quickly hustled me out of the hospital, and into his personal car, talking my ear off, as he drove me at a high rate of speed, across town to his private gynecological clinic.

Chapter 3 Capture and Interrogation

Sitting down in his office chair, the air in the room became grew heavy and very hot, and as the pain receded into the background, my conscious mind began to cloud over. Whether these physical reactions were due to the pain medications in the emergency room, or some other drugs he slipped into the tea he gave me at his office, I do not know. However, after informing me that I now sat in the office of the private gynecologist clinic he ran for his rich female clients, he had me move to sit next to him on his brown leather sofa, and then bombarded me with hours of questions.

As the night hours wore on, each added medication the doctor gave me, eventually caused brilliant colors to swim like tropical fish before my eyes. Question after question ranging from all I had done in my personal sex life, to what I remembered of my birth battered at what sanity I had left, until each new query felt like a colossal wave bursting against a rocky shore.
As I think back on that long night, it is strange that I had no will to resist his prying questions, exploring fingers, or hard personal organ. He dragged from my brain personal information I had never told a living soul, until at last his drugs and persistent sexual questions, caused me to pass into a deep non-dreaming blackness that lasted a good thirty-six hours.
Satisfied that I knew nothing of my hermaphroditic condition, he told me later that he had wrapped me up in his raincoat, carried my unconscious body out to his car, and taken me to his home. For the next thing I can recall, is formed by a single memory of me laying in a full sized bed neatly dressed in a long pink nylon nightgown, under pink flowered cotton sheets, and a mountains of quilts. Yet, though the pain in my lower belly seemed greatly diminished, try as I might I could still not focus my mind in any reasonable fashion.
Fearful of suffering forced servitude again, I pretended to be asleep when the Doctor (name withheld) came into my room with food and more medications for me to take. Seeing through my deception, he informed me that the infection in my belly had nearly abated, but I would need a few more weeks of recovery to feel my old self again.

My already confused mind swimming in the mind-altering drugs the doctor insisted that I take. After several more days of his sexual advances that I seem powerless to prevent, my doctor finally got around to informing me, in a most clinical manner. That from all the tests he had run while I had slept f, he could not say with an certainty that I was born a genetic male, nor could he say I was a genetic female. For by some quark of fate, I was born possessing the sexual organs of both a normal male and female, yet somehow residing in a single body.
He also made it clear to me that my female ovaries were the reason for the serous infection that had nearly killed me and would require removal if the infection ever returned with such ferocity.

Let me tell you, the word stunned had little meaning to me when it came to how I felt inside, hearing this doctor's medical revelations. Couple that with the psychological bending concept that my own family had told me nothing but lies from the day I could first understand their words, and who could blame me for going a little insane.
As the weeks turned into months under my twisted doctor/lover's care, I grew healthy in body, although more and more mentally unstable. For his part, my so called benefactor kept me under his thumb with a cornucopia of drugs as well as constantly reinforcing his belief in my hermaphroditic nature through nightly sexual congress, fashionable female attire, and social situations/parties, in which he strongly insisted that I play his female lover for his friends.

To tell the truth I have no idea how long that controlling doctor/lover kept me locked up as his personal transponder experimental subject, it could have been years for all I know. All I remember is that one day in a fit of sanity, I escaped through an open window he had carelessly left unlocked on a hot day, walked in my house dress and slippers to the nearest freeway, getting into the first car that stopped to pick me up.

An entire year passed after that, as I moved around the country from one pervert to the next, allowing each to dress me up as either a boy or girl, as well as encouraging each to do whatever gave them the most pleasure, to my freakish body. I think in my heart, I hoped that one of my more violent lovers would go too far in their sadistic play, and so set me free.
Yet, by chance I ended up working for a couple as their live in house maid, dressing me in the traditional black and white maids uniform. However, when do to the wife's over attention to my boy parts, the husband had no further use of me, they send me out into the streets with little more then my uniform and purse.
At the end of my last strand of rope, I finally had the nervous breakdown I felt was long overdue. In keeping with that insanity, I sat down on the back steps of a convenience store and hoping to bleed to death, I attempted a to cut my wrists on with an old but sharp pocketknife.

Needless, when the storeowner discovered me bleeding half naked on his back steps, I spent a short stay in the city's mental ward. While There more strange doctors repaired the physical damage I had caused, while still others filled my brain with strong medications to curb my so called suicidal tendencies.
Deemed no longer a danger to myself by the medical staff, my, with my pockets filled with medications I had to take each day the hospital sent me to live/work in the city's homeless shelter, run by the Baptist Church.

It was there I got my first real psychological break, in the form of a truly compassionate and intelligent Baptist Minister. Sitting in his office in the male tie shirt and boy jeans, that the hospital had insisted that I wear at my release, this aging gentleman, sat behind his weather worn wooden desk, in his old fashion preacher's suit, recognizing in minutes what I could not bring myself to believe, or except about the true nature of my person.
After only a few minutes of conversation, this kind minister stood up from his disk, took me by the shoulders, and looking me straight in the eyes, stated in clear no-nonsense terms. I was not a boy, but a girl, continuing that god would be much happier with me if I stopped play acting a male role forced upon me that he never intended, and start dressing and behaving as the young lady I had always been.

He next called in an older lady that worked as his secretary and instructed her to find me a change of dress and why, and so began my transformation into the older but wiser hermaphroditic lady I am today.

Chapter 3 Death in the Family

As I have stated here in before, I learned a great deal about my strange birth and early childhood from my abusive father in the last year of his life. However, by then I had already gone against his wishes and transformed myself into the female I was born to be.
As all transgender persons must do, I first had to pass long hours on a psychologist's couch, but I finally did get the document I needed that would allow me to begin to reverse the male horror that my mother set in motion when I was born.
First I took female hormones for sometime to gain back my rounder and meatier female form, however my breasts grow so fast that my trans doctor lower the dosage to the bare minimum.
Next, I attempted to find some one to medically castrate me and failing that, I again attempted to rid myself of the hated male testicles on my own.
Using a castration-banding device I bought at a local feed store, I managed after several hours of painful burning, to get my shaved scrotum to swell up and darkened to a deep purple. I had seen that form of castration performed many times on baby calves while living on a farm and knew of its effectiveness. I felt sure the pain would soon subside and my scrotum and testes would go numb then I could lop the whole package off, flush the hated male organs down the toilet, and go to the emergency room to be stitched up.
However, before my determination could liberate me, the pain got so terror-able that I had to cut the bands off before any permanent damage came to fruition.

Undaunted, but lacking sufficient coin of the realm for more specialized equipment, I next tried to crush the blood cords with a pair of small pointed vice grips. Yet, even though I had some success in created numbness in my right testicle, by morning all I felt was sore and sporting black and blue marks to show for my hours of painful struggle.

I later tried twisted wire, bowls of ice, red-hot needles, but nothing worked. In desperation one night I took a massive dose of pain medication I bought off the street, tied a cord around my scrotum and cut a line down the middle. I prayed that I would have enough time before the pain pills wore off to pull each unwanted gland out and cut it off, but again the woven threads dictated by the fates stepped in. A friend come to the door unexpectedly and seeing me bloody took me to the emergency room, before I could finish the two nasty organs off for good.

Therefore, despite my best efforts, here I sit writing this narrative for the readers of BME, still intact. I am too old now nearing fifty for most of the traditional surgeries to reverse what was done to me as a baby, but I am still looking for a doctor to rid me of these two pesky male reminders of a life best forgotten.
My father is dead these seven years, as is all his bothers, and my mother now soon to follow. I have managed to hang on to three or four friends that accept me as I am, but no member of my family will be likely to speak to me in my lifetime.

If I can leave one thought to the young ones like me that are struggling with this dilemma, I can only tell you to be yourselves. It is true you may lose friends and family, but you will gain yourself, and in the long and short that is life, that is all we really have.

Hugs to all

Anna-Marie

清风拂面啦啦啦 · 发表于 2019-7-17 22:11:37

楼主太有才了，膜拜中，厉害厉害

偏见少爷 · 发表于 2019-7-16 20:13:02

楼主太有才了，膜拜中

ID卡3318 · 发表于 2019-6-18 15:36:17

期待，期待，期待，期待，期待，期待。

ID卡3318 · 发表于 2019-6-18 15:35:32

楼主专业加油加油加油加油加油！

[bb小说] Transformation

联系我们