CHAPTER ONE—Welcomed Reunion
On our 21st birthday, my two sisters and I (we're identical triplets) went back home to visit with our dad. He and mom had recently divorced, so we just wanted to be with him and make sure things were okay.
Mom had gone off with her step-sister, of all people, but she was more than all right.
We found dad pretty much as he was when we'd gone off to college, but a bit older and way sadder than before. He greeted us at the door with warm hugs and kisses—except for me, of course, who being the male of our little triplet
pod,
received a handshake and a hug—and then we were unpacking and getting readjusted to being home again after so long.
Dinner was ordered-out pizza which dad always enjoyed, and a 6-pack of beer was enough for all of us. We sat around the fireplace afterwards just talking and joking, eating slices of birthday cake, and catching up on things. I sat back with my nearly full beer, appreciating the whole scene. It was beautiful in so many ways. Memories filled the place, but the present company seemed to make the whole living room glow with affection and love. My sisters always had that affect. It was like their joy of living radiated from them. To top it off, they were just actually stunningly beautiful! That was never in doubt, and even for me, being male, there was a certain
presence
that I must've had too, because on more occasions than I could recall, I'd enter a room or classroom, and heads would turn.
Even, I have to admit, guys' heads.
I leaned my head back against the back of the sofa and just listened to the happy chatter and laughing. Dad was getting into it too. It was like a late frost was just now melting, and I felt good about that. Sometimes I guess that's what kids are for—to help the parents when times get tough.
But times were tough all over. Even for me.
Recently, I'd been discovering things about myself that I felt uncomfortable with. I'd stand before a mirror and look at myself, but I'd see a smile on my face that really wasn't there; like a superimposed image over my own reflection. And the image was always of one of my sisters—Meg and Courtney. We look so much alike, are so identical, that pictures of our faces, if Photoshopped, just fit, layer over layer with only tiny differences. I'd actually grown a mustache so people wouldn't call out to Meg or Courtney when they saw me on campus! I don't exactly walk around wearing dresses, but it happened more times than I wanted to remember.
But during these superimposed moments, inside, I actually sort of liked what I saw and felt, and at times I actually envied my sisters for being the way they were; so comfortable being who they were and what they were. I remember shaving my mustache one day and never growing it back. If people thought I was one of my sisters, then fine; it was a compliment.
Then one night while laying in bed, I felt the urge to touch myself. My roommate was fast asleep so I just pushed my underwear down and started to rub my cock. I was hard before I knew it, but as I continued to rub with one hand, my other hand slid up my chest and then down my belly. I suddenly didn't like the feeling of hair on my skin. I remember sitting up under the covers and running both hands down my legs and then up again. Hair. I wasn't incredibly hairy—like my roomie, gawd, a walking sweater!—but I simply felt weird feeling all this hair on my body. I got up and went to the bathroom, locked the door and looked at myself in the sink mirror.
The same image seemed to cover me. Meg or Courtney—I couldn't tell which. But it now felt as though I
was
one of my sisters standing in front of her mirror in her own dorm room. I raised my arm and the sight of my underarm hair made my nose wrinkle. I got my razor and started to dry-shave right then and there, and when I was done I ran a finger over my smooth armpit and really enjoyed the sensation. Just that touch had given me goose-flesh, and my nipples were hard and excited.
I wound up shaving both my armpits, my chest, the hair around my nipples, and then stripped my underwear down and started shaving my pubes. I didn't shave everything down there; I left a
V
shaped patch around my cock—which was rock hard. My whole body felt that way—hard and completely aroused.
Then I left my crotch the way it was and shaved both my legs completely, and when I was done I cleaned up all the loose hair with a damp piece of toilet paper, dumped everything in the toilet and flushed. It seemed that an old part of me was swirling down the toilet, and when the water refilled fresh and clean, I looked down at myself.
Closing my eyes, I started to run my hands all over myself, feeling freshly hairless skin tingling like never before. Every part of me seemed alive in ways I never knew were possible before. I finally grabbed my erection, and because of all the previous excitement, it took only five or six tugs before I was spurting into the sink. The climax was incredible—feeling as though my whole body had orgasmed and not just that one part of me, and when I had cleaned everything up and made sure no semen remained anywhere, I cleaned my cock off, slipped my underwear back on, and went back to bed.
From then on, it was as though a
female
side of me which I'd never known, had awakened. I'm not saying I became gay or flaming or faggy or anything; I just felt...more female with each day that went by.
And now I sat in my parent's home with beer warming my insides and the flames of the fire warming my outsides, and the ongoing conversation and laugher warming my heart. I only wished I knew how I fit into this scene!