Dr. Lankaster continued explaining me about my new condition. I didn't care.
That night I cried again and so I did two days more. The doctor told me that the reason I could control my emotions was because my male brain was being flooded by the female hormones of body and once my brain had gotten habituated I'll be fine.
"But this are so..." I said squeezing my breast feeling the ache of their sensibility. "And this...!" I said placing my hand in the emptiness of my crotch, feeling the subtle movement of the gown as a serious stimulation that broke me in tears.
"That's normal. Your brain don't recognize your female attributes." He explained. "What you are experiencing is quite similar to a normal girl's puberty. The only reason you feel it so intense is because both our brain and body are fully developed, but aren't in sync. But don't worry, you will feel better on a couple of days."
It wasn't instantly, but I must accept that three weeks was faster than what I had expected.
I was finally in some control and made my decision: Meet my new family.
"Are you sure you are ready?" Dr. McDonald asked.
"I'll meet then sooner or later, don't I?"
"Well, then I'll prepare the meeting for tomorrow, Ms. Sullivan" She smiled me.
Dr. Sylvia McDonald was a really kind person. 53 years old and still in an enviable shape, she was my psychiatrist. It should had been expected that after such a transformation the people in charge wouldn't let me pass by this alone by myself. Dr. McDonald was and specialist in sexual psychology specialized in all sort of sexual disorders and mine was quite an interesting one.
She didn't know the whole story about my transplant. As Dr. Lankaster instructed me, Sylvia had been told that I had a brain surgery which resulted in a dramatically memory distortion. It was an simple, but extremely believable lie, in comparison to the sci-fi material that was my reality now.
Dr. Lankaster warned me, but I still tried to make Dr. McDonald believe me. Great mistake.
The first week of therapy as a nightmare. With my emotions and body sensations reaching its peek, I was a hardcore lunatic.
I don't remember the details of that week sessions. But after that week I finally talked.
"I don't want to be a woman, even less a mom..." I was saying, "but somehow, I think, I'm getting used to this." I said caressing my arms, thighs, lips... even squeezing my breast. "I even fell... pleasure." I said blushing ashamed.
"Ms. Sullivan," Sylvia began, "what you are experimenting now is a second Phallic stage in your psychosexual development."
"Phallic? But I don't have a penis now" I said as a confused child still touching myself.
"Even though it is call Phallic, it is not just about the male genitalia, but both male and female." She explained me. "The Phallic Stage is the period in the development of a child when he or she," she pointed me, "discovers his or hers genitals."
"I know about genitals." I began still overwhelmed by the feeling of my body. "I'm an adult."
She smiled me.
"Yes, you are an adult. But... how do I put it? Your brain is reseting."
"Reseting?!" I said scared. "What does that mean?!"
"Well, when you awoke you said you were a man, don't you?"
"I am..." I assented.
"Ok." She sighed. "You also told me that your body wasn't yours, right?"
"It is not mine."
"But how does it felt now?"
"Well, it aches." I began. "But not that much than early, it's felt more..." My eyes widely opened." It felt natural."
"Exactly." Dr. McDonald stated.
"But why?!"
"It simple, you, your brain, is recognizing your body. In other words, you have finally stopped rejecting yourself and embracing it."
"But I don't want to be a woman."
"You think that now, but in little time you will be as conformable in your body as any women is one hers."
Quite an ironic statement.
A hold month passed since I woke up. Two weeks passed since my Phallic Stage Crisis. But it was time.
I was still completely against of becoming Elisabeth Sullivan, but I was a little more open to see myself a Jonathan Dover, the woman; or more precisely, Jeanette Dover, as I began to call myself at the sessions with the psychiatrist at my third week as a woman.
The night passed faster than what I would like it. I barely could sleep. I was nervous, but it was time to meet them.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
