TW: Gender Dysphoria, Transphobia early on, Homophobia early on
I was never allowed to feel like a girl when I was younger.
My dad insisted that I had to be a 'manly man,' while my mom chastised me for playing with dolls with my older sister. If I even showed the slightest interest in the color pink, then all hell would break loose. On weekends, I would help my dad to work on cars, or we would go to the park to watch women walk by while my dad catcalled them, egging me on to do the same.
I never felt like I belonged. I always had a gap in my knowledge about mechanics, or felt just the slightest bit off about watching women walk by like some kind of a pervert. Sometimes, I would see my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner and I realized that I wanted that: I wanted to be a doting housewife.
...it wasn't until I was seventeen that I realized I'm trans.
I'd found a community of people who were just like me. 'Eggs,' they called themselves. It turned out, the feelings I'd felt for all of my life were actually called 'dysphoria,' and it felt so, so good to finally belong and to understand why I felt the way I did.
Unfortunately, my parents didn't share my optimistic view of the situation.
I'd been overjoyed to finally know that I wasn't messed up somewhere along the line. Mom had just cried, and Dad... well, Dad yelled. A lot. He didn't hit me, but I'd almost expected it. All in all, they gave me the year. I had one year to 'get my shit together or get out,' as my dad instructed.
I got out.
On my eighteenth birthday, instead of a party, or a cake, I got twenty dollars for gas and the rest of the day to pack. I was devastated. I knew about Dad's ultimatum, but I never expected him to really kick me out. Even if he did misgender me and refuse to respect my gender, I was still his kid, right?
I didn't know what to do, so I called the one person I thought might understand, and she did. My sister Bella understood me all too well. Being gay, she'd experienced similar shunning from our parents. As I cried into my phone, she dropped everything she was doing and told me to 'get my ass over there.'
Opening the door and walking into a big hug was honestly the best thing I could have hoped for, and it was exactly what I needed. Even though I hadn't seen her since she moved out three years ago, it felt as if I was truly home.
"What are you wearing?" she asked after breaking our hug. "That's not what I expected, I mean."
I hadn't told her about my transition, and I wasn't sure if our parents had, but since she seemed surprised by my masculine clothes and posture, I could only imagine they had.
"J-just jeans," I replied reluctantly. It honestly hurt so much to use my old voice from before I'd begun my voice training. I'd worked so hard toward my feminine voice, and even if it wasn't perfect, it was better than my old 'boyish' voice. Sensing my discomfort, my sister began to eye me more critically and shook her head.
"No, no. That won't do at all. Come on. Let's get you some new clothes," she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the front door. Before I knew it, despite my protests, I soon found myself sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Impala, and we were zooming down the highway toward the mall.
The first shop we went into was a clothing shop that specialized in womens' clothing. Any time I'd even thought about looking at the shop -- even from the outside -- my parents had seemed to read my mind and steered me as far from it as possible. It felt almost surreal to be right outside the shop's doors and looking in.
"Look, I don't know about this. Maybe we shouldn't-" I began to argue, but my sister ignored my words and grabbed my hand once more, dragging me into the shop.
It wasn't as pink as I'd expected. The floor was a clean, white and blue tile flooring, cleanly waxed. The walls were a myriad of colors, but there were lots of blues and reds especially. Most of the pinks and purples came from the clothes themselves. My eyes trailed along the racks as I was dragged and I was watching in awe as we passed rows of skirts, cute tank tops, dresses, and -- to my embarrassment -- panties, bras, and every other form of negligee. There was even a smaller section in the corner devoted to makeup.
This place was incredible.
"I know the asshole didn't let you wear what you wanted back home, but that won't fly at our house. You can wear anything you want, so we need to start building your wardrobe."
It was a lot to take in. First, she was defending me against Dad. I'd never dared to stand up to him, but here she was condemning him and supporting me. It was incredible. Second, she called her house 'our' house. I'd never been accepted like this as a girl, or even as a person. Constantly being told that I didn't belong as a kid had felt horrible, but here was my sister telling me I had a place that I belonged. It was amazing, and I was so thankful. Lastly, her invitation to wear whatever I wanted hit me like a ton of bricks. It was so incredible, to have this golden opportunity to be who I was handed to me on a silver platter. There was only one problem.
"I, uh, I don't actually know anything about these kinds of clothes. I've only ever seen them from a distance, or on other people," I confessed, and I tried to pretend I didn't notice the look of pity on her face.
"Then I'll just have to help you," she said with a gentle smile and a nod. I just kept my head down and followed along.
Bella, seemingly unperturbed by my lack of enthusiasm, dragged me through a few aisles by the hand, piling clothes onto her arm as we went. This went on for a good twenty minutes before we finally stopped. In front of a changing room.
"Oh no," I argued. "I couldn't. I'll just, I don't know, damage the clothes or something. Let's just go home," I pleaded, but my words fell on deaf ears. My sister kept dragging me as she'd done all day, but this time we were going into an empty changing room. I wasn't even sure if more than one person was allowed in one of these at a time, but she'd not even hesitated! I stuttered as I tried to find the words to explain why this wasn't okay.
"Alright," she said, ignoring my stammering. "I don't want to throw you right into the deep end, so I think we should start with familiar territory and work our way up. Try these on first."
She placed the pile onto the bench and handed me -- to my horror -- three pairs of panties that were actually my size. She'd always had a good eye for this sort of thing. I stared at the pieces of fabric in disbelief. How could I wear something like these? How could I try them on in front of her? Why wasn't she at least turning around? I voiced my concerns.
"I'm not going to make you wear them, but I can promise they're more comfortable than what you probably have on. Plus, they're designed to look better with the jeans I picked out for you. If you're wearing boxes and you're not tucking -- and I'm pretty sure you're not -- your, uh, lady bits could slip out and hit the fabric. Doesn't that sound painful? Plus, panty lines are normal for a girl, but boxer lines halfway down the thigh aren't. You might get some looks."
Her arguments made sense, and I knew she was just trying to help me, but this was still really embarrassing.
"Am I even allowed to try these on? I thought there were no-bare-skin rules about trying on underwear?" I said, desperate for any opportunity to get myself out of this situation. Bella just chuckled.
"Actually, this store doesn't have a rule like that. They just request that if you don't buy one that you try on, you have to throw it in a bin outside the door so they can wash them before putting them back on the shelf," she said with a bright smile, which quickly fell into a more serious look. "Look, if you're uncomfortable with this, I won't force you. I just want you to feel confident as a woman, because from where I'm looking, you're a damn fine one at that."
Maybe it was the gender affirmation, or maybe it was the compliment at the tale end of her speech, but my sister's words encouraged me. With a nervous sigh, I nodded and kicked my Converse aside. I bent down slightly to remove the socks and began to pull my baggy jeans off. As I reached for my boxers, however, I looked up and noticed Bella's eyes still on me.
"You're new to this. I have to see how they fit you," she explained before I could even ask her to look away. Reluctantly accepting her explanation, I was only a bit slower as I reached for my boxers once more. They slid down slowly, and I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as they hit the floor. There. I'd done it. Now I just had to get the panties on.
"Wow," Bella commented. "You must have been working out, 'cause those are some fuckin' thighs. Holy shit."
I blushed at the compliment, keeping my left hand just in front of my penis. Sure, I was naked from the waist down, but there were some things I didn't want her to see. My penis was one of them. Reaching for the first pair of panties with my right hand, I took a brief look at them. It was a nice, simple lime green pair. They were plain, with no text anywhere in sight. There wasn't even a bit of adornment, and they seemed to have been made to tease with a nice, cheeky view. On a proper girl, at least. On me, I wasn't sure. I'd never worn anything like this.
I slipped one leg into them and -- struggling because of my left hand covering my penis -- then the other leg. With my right hand, I pulled them up and realized first just how strange they felt on my body. They almost seemed to cup my groin snugly, and the way they fit on my butt almost felt tight.
"Move your hand," Bella instructed and -- since I was somewhat covered by the panties -- I complied. She took an over-critical look at the panties, circling around me and examining what felt like every inch of my body. I had to fight the urge to cover myself even more, but I knew it was too late. She'd seen most of me anyway.
