WntrDrgn

  I was merely nine years old when it happened. Looking back, you’d say that it was boys being boys, although the police didn’t see it that way once it happened. Cryptic, I know, but don’t worry, I pn to expin it all.

  My name is Jake Stetson, yes, like the hat, and I, like most boys my age, loved pying baseball, football, soccer, whatever. It didn’t matter as long as we were moving. Now, I was nowhere near being the star pyer at anything we pyed, but in my opinion, I was an above-average pyer, and I have to say that I was well-liked because of it. Oh, I had a few that didn’t like me. After all, no one is liked by everyone.

  My rival, enemy, the bane of my existence, and a general waste of space was Steven Michaels. I’m sure you know his type, a bully. Generally, if you stand up to them, they’ll leave you alone, but oh no, not Steven, and definitely not his little coterie of hangers-on.

  Anyway, it happened during the st week of 4th grade. Mrs. Kim, our teacher, asked me to stay back and help her after school, which I gdly agreed to do along with Kelly Ann. After we finished, we were walking through the school pyground as I walked her home. No, she isn’t my girlfriend, it’s simply that my father always said you should never let a girl walk alone in this day and age, and of course, Steven and his ‘friends’ were hanging out at the pyground. Seeing that, we tried to make a wide circle around them, keeping to the outer edge of the pyground.

  I should probably expin that Kelly Ann is what most would call gorgeous. A typical strawberry-blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, as well as being an early bloomer, if you catch my meaning. Steven also has a thing for her, along with every other pretty girl. I tend to think it’s funny that he thinks he’s a ‘dies man’ as Dad calls it. Of course, he’s always rebuffed by the girls in our school, though it doesn’t seem to deter him.

  With all that in mind, you can pretty much guess that he leads his little pack in trotting over to us, which makes Kelly Ann groan and mutter, “Great.”

  They quickly surround the two of us, leaving us without an avenue of escape, and he begins his usual spiel to again try to win her over. All it does though is get her to move behind me and grab hold of my Polo shirt, to which, of course, he reacts badly, and attempts to take it out on me. Even he isn’t dumb enough to think that attacking the girl(s) he likes would help him. It begins with him mouthing off, which makes me smile since he isn’t very good at insulting people, although in hindsight, it wasn’t a good idea to do so since it only served to make him angrier.

  I should also mention, I hate fighting. Oh, I can fight with the best of them, if I have to since Dad made sure of that. I’m not a coward either, I just think that fighting doesn’t really help anything.

  Regardless, when he finally loses his cool and takes a swing at me, I put him down, quick. One punch to his sor plexus and I grab Kelly Ann’s hand, shove one of his minions out of the way, and march off without a word said.

  We make it to the sidewalk when I hear them yelling and look to see all five of them, running full bore toward us. Turning back to look at Kelly Ann, I tell her, “Run. Don’t stop until you get home.”

  Thankfully, she does as I tell her, and a few seconds ter, they arrive just as I’m turning to face them, and my world spins as he literally sms into me. Unfortunately, him doing that also knocks me into the street and into the path of an oncoming motorcycle.

  I’m happy to say that I don’t really remember much about it. It happened far too fast. What I do know is that I woke up in the hospital three weeks ter. Apparently, having a motorcycle hit you and smming your face into the asphalt isn’t conducive to good health. Nor is having the motorcycle running you over after that very good, either.

  Suffice it to say I ended up with a terrible concussion, shattered my face, along with a few broken ribs, cuts, bruises, and my balls were crushed and my penis basically destroyed. The doctors tried to put everything back together down there, but there was simply too much damage. So, I have very little down there since all they were able to salvage is the head of my penis.

  Now, at nine, it doesn’t really occur to you what that means. I mean, most of us are just beginning to get an idea of what the difference between boys and girls means.

  The doctors said a lot of things that I didn’t really understand, although my dad looked absolutely devastated and my mom horrified. It wasn’t until I was twelve that I finally understood why.

  I didn’t start puberty with the rest of the guys at school. They got much taller and, in a few cases, more muscur, as well as their voices changing while I severely gged behind in growth.

  The worst for me is my childishly pre-pubescent voice. I could more or less hide my ck of a penis and balls, but there was nothing I could do about my voice.

  As time wore on, I was picked on quite a bit, for being the runt with the ‘girly’ voice. Aside from literally being tortured by the other guys, very few girls wanted to be seen with a ‘freak.’

  After I sat down and my dad expined why to me, I finally understood, This… well, this is just how things are and this was how the rest of my life would be. Neither a boy nor a girl, simply a freak somewhere in between.

  I kept to myself for the most part with my only real friend being Kelly Ann during this whole time.

  My Mom and Dad felt that despite the accident, I should still try to have a happy life and they did everything they could to instill that kind of positivity in me. I tried. Believe me, I tried, but once puberty left me out in the cold with my cssmates leaving me behind, I have to admit that I was pushed further and further away as if what was wrong would rub off on them if they so much as talked to me.

  Due to the ck of anything to make the testosterone my body needed, I also didn’t have the growth spurts like my peers so I’m the smallest amongst the guys, and even most of the girls.

  I was short, skinny, and not nearly as strong as the other boys which was a constant reminder of just how different from them I was.

  Not much else worth talking about happened until the month before I turned fourteen. It was then that I finally began to notice changes. Not the changes I would have expected, but changes nonetheless.

  I first noticed the subtle changes a few months earlier, but rather than run to my parents about it right then and there, I kept quiet, not realizing what was happening to me.

  The first clue that something was unusual was when I noticed my clothes weren’t fitting me right. It would have been one thing if I’d been growing out of them as most other kids did, but that’s not what was happening.

  Most boys my age grew out of their clothes vertically. Me, I was growing out of them horizontally. No, I wasn’t gaining weight or getting fat. My pants still fit in the waist, but they were getting tight in the butt, around my hips, and I had a hard time getting them up over my thighs.

  Mom finally noticed after the seam ripped out in the rear of another pair of my jeans. It only got worse as I continued to get rger in those areas. Despite all of that, my tummy was ft as a board. Heck, even my waist seemed to be getting even smaller. Even stranger was how oddly sensitive my chest was becoming. I tried to merely shrug it off as a passing irritation but once it finally got to where wearing any shirt was torturous, I brought it up to mom.

  She made me pull up my t-shirt, took one look at my chest, and immediately made a call to our family doctor.

  Even with me bugging her to find out what she thought was wrong, she simply repeated, “Let’s wait to see what Doctor Jalil says.”

  Two days ter saw me at the doctor’s office being poked and prodded around the puffy areas and my nipples as she “Hmmm’d and Huh’d,” then finally sent us to have lots of blood taken from me for tests along with her saying, “When we get the results, I’ll call you back to set up an appointment so we can discuss what we find. Until then, don’t worry.”

  We returned to the doctor for the test results a week ter. The nurse soon calls my name and we follow her back to an office, not an exam room as expected. We had to wait about ten minutes before the doctor came in carrying a thick file with her.

  After greeting us and apologizing for taking so long, she sits down. Opening the file in front of her, she begins, “Well, I have to say this is a first for me. I consulted with my colleague about your results and she agrees that we have a rare situation here. Of course, his accident five years ago is the root of the issue here. His body doesn’t have the capacity to make testosterone for male puberty and that has led to another issue.

  “Male or female, we produce both testosterone and estrogen hormones in varying levels. Males produce much lower levels of estrogen than females and even then, its effects are suppressed by testosterone. For Jake, the level of estrogen in his body, even though low, is finally triggering changes. Without the dominant effect of testosterone, these changes aren’t the ones we would normally expect or desire to see in a boy.

  “Basically, the estrogen is triggering female puberty, however, the levels of estrogen are nowhere near what they would be for a normal girl going through puberty. Hence, why it’s taken so much longer for any changes to begin to manifest and why they are progressing so slowly. Nevertheless, the effects are here and it’s causing his hips to widen and body fat to redistribute. We’re also seeing the initial signs of him developing breasts.

  “Your son, Mrs. Stetson, is beginning female puberty, albeit at a much slower pace.”

  Mom gasps as her hand flies up to cover her mouth while I sit there completely and totally dumbfounded by what she said.

  Listen, I’m far from stupid, I’m actually quite smart since, without friends, I mostly study or py games on my X station. Even so, the only thing running through my mind is, ‘No. No! This has to be a mistake! This simply can’t be real!’ as tears flow freely down my cheeks.

  Mom looks over at me with sadness and sympathy in her eyes.

  The doctor continues on inexorably as if she is pronouncing my death sentence.

  “So, this leaves us with a few options to consider. One, start him on testosterone and wait for his body to correct itself. Or, two we can begin supplementing the female hormones to elevate them to a more normal level and genital reconstruction surgery at some point. Or, finally, do nothing. Allow nature to continue, although at a much-reduced rate, and thereby giving Jake time to choose who and what he wants to be.”

  By now, I can hear my heartbeat and my blood rushing in my ears. My head is literally pounding, my vision is narrowing and I feel like I’m about to pass the hell out.

  Mom asks lots of questions, most of which I don’t even hear as a multitude of thoughts vie for attention. However, one question she asks does manage to capture my attention. “How long will it be before he’s more of a girl than boy?”

  The doctor expins, “I can’t really state a solid timeframe since the hormone levels are so low, but maybe another four or five years before puberty would be complete. If we give him supplemental hormones, probably two, at most, three years.”

  So, I can either take testosterone and live with the tiny breasts that have developed or have them removed at some point if I decide I want to be ‘somewhat of a man.’ Or I can simply accept what is happening and ‘transition to be a girl.’

  With that, we leave the doctor with a promise to have an answer for her soon.

  WntrDrgn