Diary: Forced to Choose

Once more, I explore.

I have been thinking about my slow evolution, and it doesn’t come across at all in my previous entry.  I’m trying to remember when and how I first gave in to temptation and willfully put on a pair of pantyhose, but it’s too distant.  I know for sure that I had no idea what the consequences were.  Well, I did, and they fed my fantasies, but I could never bear to think of it for too long.  

I need to evolve my story better.  But I just don’t know how.  How can I present my innocent young mind’s train of thought when I know so much more than I did then?  I need to involve other characters to keep it sensible, to keep track of my differing opinions.  

One other thing: I’ve been thinking of the point of accusation, the point of decision.  I have never totally been there myself yet, but it approaches more and more with every incident.  Imagine being forced to decide, on the spot, which gender to be?  Imagine being offered the perfect opportunity to explore femininity to its fullest, that is, to its most final form.  All you have to do is accept; after that, there’s no turning back.  You must immediately abandon all masculine possessions, or feminize them; you must tell your family in person, en femme, about your decision; you must tell your friends as well.  But none of that needs to be immediate: you are allowed to ease into it, in private, under an expert’s supervision.  

Or, in a different scenario, imagine the mega-story candidates.  Each is asked, at various points, just how committed he is to becoming a girl.  At some point, he must tell his prudish friends, “sorry guys, but I really do want to be a girl now.”  They’ll chastise him, call him a fag traitor homo bitch.  But he will confidently respond that they’re absolutely right, and that he’s proud of it.  They will remind him that it means losing his balls, losing his manhood; to which he will respond that he’s looking forward to it.