Eight days after the surgery, the hospital released me to go home. The bus ride back to my place seemed to take forever as the dull ache in my crotch fluctuated with a mind of its own. I had taken medication for the first four or five days after the surgery, but weaned myself off of them to the point where I could deal with the ache by the time I left. The cleaning regiment that I had to follow took me about twenty minutes each time as I had to carefully take off the bandages, take the gauze stuffing out of my new genitals, clean the area thoroughly, put a plastic shaper in for a few minutes, and then redress the area. I had to use a catheter to relieve myself and the edges of the bandages itched something terrible.
The worst part didn’t hit me until I got home, and realized that I could actually feel a physical part of me missing. I sat down and cried for a good long while before I was able to collect myself and work things out in my head. Most people that underwent this surgery, felt that they were a woman, trapped in a man’s body. The surgery was supposed to make them feel like they had the appropriate body for their inner feelings. I was a person on the run, and had lived as a boy for my entire life, never once considering myself to be abnormal. Now, I was minus three things that defined who I had been. Granted, in exchange, I’d grown a glorious pair of breasts, my body didn’t even resemble the manly athlete I used to be, and I now had the final touch that would remove all doubt as to who I was. I feigned a celebration in my head and made myself up a little bit to try and spend some time out.
“Hey Meghan, how’s it going?”
“Where have you been the last week!” Meghan exclaimed, more than asked, causing me to pull the phone away from my ear for a second.
“I had to have surgery on my vulva,” I explained semi-truthfully.
“What happened?” Meghan suddenly sounded concerned.
“I just had a small growth in my crotch area that I had to have removed.”
“Oh, Dear, would you like me to come over?”
“Actually, that would be awesome; I’d love to get out of my place for awhile.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Meghan and I went for a small bite to eat, and I told her my plan. She enjoyed writing a little, and I needed that kind of thing on my website, because I needed fresh content in order to get more traffic there. Meghan could keep her current job, and she could pull in the extra money she needed from commissions off myselfdefensesite. Since I still hadn’t heard from Mr. Godday about a roommate in almost eight months, I told her that I would be happy to have her as a roommate as long as she wanted to stay with me.
We decided that the best time to make our move would be after she finished her English class so she could focus on that the last week of class, then we could get all of her things moved over that weekend and start next term together.
The next day, after my morning cleaning, I rode into town to take a look at bedroom furniture. I picked out a bed similar to mine, with a matching nightstand and desk.
“Do you deliver?” I inquired at the front desk.
“Yes Ma’am,” the polite clerk affirmed. “Where and when would you like your furniture?”
I worked out to have them delivered that afternoon, and went straight home to move my own things around so that Meghan’s new furniture would fit well. When the truck arrived, the two young men moved everything in and even offered to organize it for me. Remembering the last two men that helped me move things in, I told them that I would take care of it, and offered them a cool drink of water for their troubles. They graciously accepted my offer, and drove off with a smile.
As I moved Meghan’s furniture around to see how things would best fit, I finally got everything perfect for when she would see her new home.
When the weekend came, Meghan already had her belongings packed into a luggage set some relative had given her when she graduated high school, so we moved everything immediately over to our apartment. Since I never mentioned that Meghan already had furniture, I decided to surprise her.
“Dawn! It’s Amazing!” Meghan squealed as she flopped on the bed. “When? How?”
I explained to her my first experience coming here and how I’d realized that I really didn’t have anything. I assured her that I didn’t spend a fortune on it, and that giving it to her really was no trouble at all. We unpacked her things for the rest of the evening and shared a quiet dinner at our quaint little table.
After the weekend ended, we went to register for the next term of classes and between the two of us, we decided to try taking six credit hours this time, so that we could get two of our mandatory classes out of the way over the course of the next four weeks. The two we decided on were English 102 and Drama 101. That would give us the opportunity to have a little fun.
The term passed quickly, and time flew straight through as we worked together to write our papers, learn the history of Drama, and manage our little company. By the time we were registering for our Fall semester, we seemed to pretty much stay in sync with each other, even though she was doing liberal arts, and I was majoring in drama. Our general education classes were similar enough that we still had most of our classes scheduled together.
As we walked back towards our apartment, I began to feel a mild burning in my chest that just made me feel happy to be spending time with my new best friend. By the time we reached our apartment, that feeling was burning so strong that I had to think twice about everything I said.
“So, we can go to the gym for an hour in the morning before we have to get ready and go to our first…”
She never had a chance to finish, before my lips pressed gently against hers in a brief but obviously passionate kiss.
“Wha…?” Meghan pulled back for a moment, not even finishing her question before she locked lips again, this time leaving no doubt that we definitely felt something between us.
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