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Too Pretty To Be A Boy -3- by Mr. Lajien
🕑 Added 2025-03-01 09:39:34 +0000 UTCI was used to locking my door back in New York, having two psycho brothers who wanted me dead, but it didn’t make me feel safe. Last night, I slept without fear of Dicky or Peter, which means that I made the right choice.
One issue remained; how do I tell Mom about my issue? I know she would understand; she’s a great mom, after all, but I just don’t know how to bring it up. As I lay in my bed, I decided to think about the issue after my morning run.
I quickly left my bed and picked up a tank top and my basketball shorts. I took off my pajama top then I looked at myself in the mirror; things were quickly getting worse. I had just taken off my pajama bottoms when the door to my room opened, and Mom walked in. I immediately used the pajama top in my hand to hide my chest, but I could tell it was too late from the look on Mom's face.
“Sorry, honey, I came to check on you. I will just give you some privacy,” Mom explained, obviously shaken, before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. My worst fear had come true, but maybe it was for the best. I didn’t even know how I was supposed to tell Mom.
Deciding not to think too much about this, I put on my tank top and shorts, then my socks and sneakers. While I hated to show off, my clothes were always the top of the line, and never cheap. Life was easy if it weren’t for my two asshole half-brothers.
I took my bottle of water with me to fill it with cold water from the refrigerator. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, still shaken and trying to make sense of what she had just seen. Noticing me walking into the kitchen, she looked at me and forced a smile.
“Are you going for a run?” she asked. I could tell she was trying to start a conversation. I felt bad for just nodding, but I didn’t know what to say if she started a conversation. “Have a good run; I think we need to talk a bit after you come back. Would you be comfortable?” Mom inquired. I can tell she really cared about my feelings, which makes me feel guilty about the times I acted as a jerk.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, forcing a smile myself. I quickly filled my bottle with water before stepping out of the house. Staying in shape runs in the family, I would say. So, a morning run was nothing short of a routine.
I started my run, and soon I was passing a basketball court. I saw some kids playing, and among them, a face that I recognized. It was Angela, she was not really playing, just hanging out with a friend of hers. Then, there was a boy who was nothing but a showoff.
Basketball runs in my blood, and I couldn’t resist walking closer to watch. I watched for a while as the guys tried to show off, but I can tell, a guy like him would be squashed like a bug, and he wouldn’t even make it to the benches of my team back in NY.
“Like what you’re seeing?” the boy asked, noticing me.
I thought, oh no, he thinks I’m a girl. He walked over to me with a stupid grin on his face. “There’s no girl in the neighborhood that doesn’t like my skills. I am going to join the team at TYA next year,” he explained.
TYA? Please don’t tell me I will have to deal with another asshole on the team again? I certainly hope not, especially since he looked like he was my age.
“You’ve got some moves, but basketball’s more about the team than showing off. Trust me, a good player knows that,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. No need to start something over a game.
“What do you know about basketball? You’re just some girl hanging around,” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Carl, you’re here,” Angela called excitedly while waving. “I didn’t know you had arrived; I thought it was next week.” Angela walked over to me happily. We had always been friends since we were little kids and attended the same school for first grade. Things were great back then. Mom was not just my mom, she was the mom for all my brothers. Even Dicky and Peter would still listen to her.
“You’re not a girl?” The guy’s face twisted in confusion like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You messing with me?” he said, his hand shooting out to grab my collar.
Why does this always have to happen? With a sigh, I grabbed his arm and flipped him over, sending him crashing onto the dirt and grass instead of the hard pavement. At least I spared him that. "I never said I was a girl, genius," I said as he groaned in pain. Martial arts has been a part of my life since I was a kid, so grabbing my collar was the last mistake he should’ve made.
The kid got to his feet, his face burning with embarrassment. He glared at me, fists clenched, but he didn’t make a move. “You’ll regret this. My mom’s on the HOA. She’ll hear about this,” he hissed, trying to save face.
Angela rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Hiding behind your mom and the HOA? Come on, nobody likes them anyway.” She glanced at the others, who nodded in agreement. “And by the way, Carl’s family isn’t the kind to be pushed around. So, good luck with that.”
It was a little embarrassing as everyone stared at me after Angela’s comment, but I shrugged it off. I turned to the boy. “You said you’re aiming for TYA, right? Point guard, I bet?” I said, my voice calm. “Well, how about we find out if you’ve got what it takes? You and me, one-on-one. Let’s see who’s really got game?” I suggested.
His angry scowl quickly shifted into a smug smile, like he really thought he had a chance. I picked up the ball that was lying on the ground and tossed it to him. “Alright, you get the first shot,” I said, my voice steady. “First to ten times wins.”
I stood there, watching him dribble the ball like he had something to prove. He rushed at me, but I didn’t even break a sweat as I stole the ball from him. One quick move and I was past him, laying it up easily.
"1-0," I said, tossing the ball back to him.
His face was turning red, and he came at me again, more aggressive this time. Didn’t matter. I took the ball right out of his hands again, then jogged down the court for another easy basket.
“2-0… 3-0…”
The more I scored, the more he lost it. His moves were getting sloppy, and I was barely even trying. I could hear the other kids starting to gather around, whispering, but I kept my focus on the game.
By the time it hit 5-0, he was breathing hard, looking like he didn’t know what to do anymore. I took the ball after another one of his terrible shots, casually dribbled down the court, and nailed a three-pointer.
“8-0,” I called out.
He was done. I could see it in his face. He threw up another wild shot that didn’t come close. I grabbed the rebound, drove back down the court, and made another easy layup.
“9-0.”
He just stood there now, barely moving as I walked past him for the final shot.
“10-0,” I said, throwing the ball back to him.
He looked like he wanted to disappear, staring down at the ground. The kids around us were talking, but I didn’t bother listening.
One of Angela’s friends smirked and asked, "Are you two dating or something?" The whole group started making those ridiculous teasing noises, and the guy from earlier looked at me like I’d just run over his dog.
“What? Eww, no way! Carl’s like my little brother,” Angela shot back, laughing.
While some guys might be hurt hearing a girl say she thinks of them as brothers, I wasn’t. Angela and I had known each other since we were little, and there were never any feelings like that between us. We were more like siblings than anything else. “That’s true, except I’m two weeks older,” I said with a grin as Angela stuck her tongue out at me.
“Angela, he’s super cool. You have to invite him to hang out with us sometime,” one of the girls who was with Angela said while looking at me. I knew that look and I hated to disappoint her, but I was not interested at all. Both boys and girls, they were all the same; I was just not interested.
“You bet I will,” Angela replied. Looking at my smartwatch I noticed that I hadn’t covered even half of my usual running distance, so I quickly said goodbye before walking away to complete my run.
A while later, I stood in front of my house, taking a deep breath before opening the door. “Mom, I’m home,” I called out as I stepped inside.
“In the kitchen, sweetheart,” Mom’s voice floated back.
I walked into the kitchen and saw Mom making breakfast. There was a glass of fresh orange juice waiting for me, my favorite. We didn’t have any oranges last night, so that meant Mom must’ve gone to the market while I was out to get some. That small gesture warmed me, even though I knew what conversation was coming.
“So, when did you realize you have…?” Mom began, hesitating as she tried to find the right words.
“Tits?” I said bluntly, making her raise an eyebrow at me. I just shrugged. “I used to live with baboons,” I added, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
Mom chuckled softly. “All right, fine. When did you notice them growing?” she asked again, clearly trying to avoid using the word herself.
“About a month ago,” I admitted. “They keep growing for some reason. I searched the internet, but I couldn’t find a straight answer.”
Mom let out a deep sigh and put down her fork. She rubbed her forehead, looking like she was deep in thought. “Okay, I don’t want you to jump to any conclusions, but I have a guess,” she said, her voice careful. “I always thought you were a bit too pretty to be a boy.”
I stared at her, completely confused. What was that supposed to mean?
“I made an appointment with a doctor while you were out. We need to find the underlying cause of this,” Mom explained.
I looked at her like a deer caught in headlights, and she must have noticed because she reached out and took my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I was terrified of what was coming, of facing the inevitable, and the thought of going to the doctor filled me with dread. But knowing that Mom was with me made me feel a little less alone.
An hour later, I found myself sitting down in a doctor's clinic, waiting for my turn. The receptionist, and apparently the intern, was a very friendly girl. She looked to be Johnny’s age or older. The only thing I will ever miss about New York is him and Dad. I will, of course, not miss the chimpanzees.
“Ms. Romano, Dr. Norman is waiting for you and Carl,” Ava, the receptionist informed Mom.
We both stood up and walked into the examination room; there sat a woman with such striking beauty that I could compare it to Mom. She stood up, showing her blouse, knee-length skirt and pantyhose. I was always told that I am my mom’s son because I always pay attention to people’s outfits and analyze them. She was dressed enough to maintain her professional look while still showing off her beauty.
Dr. Norman extended her hand with a warm smile as we entered the room. "Good afternoon, Ms. Romano."
Mom shook her hand first, returning the smile. "Thank you, Dr. Norman. We appreciate seeing you seeing us at such short notice."
Dr. Norman turned to me, her gaze both kind and inquisitive. "And you must be Carl. Your mom told me about you. How are you feeling today?"
I nodded, trying to muster a polite smile. "I'm okay, thank you."
"That's good to hear," she replied, her voice calm and reassuring. "Let's make sure we take good care of you today."
Dr. Norman gestured for us to take a seat. After we were settled, she reviewed her notes before looking at us with a reassuring smile. “So, I have a good idea of what might be going on, but I need to perform a physical examination to confirm. Can you please get on the examination table and remove your top?” Her blue eyes met mine with a calm, professional demeanor.
I glanced at Mom for support, and she nodded encouragingly. With a deep breath, I walked over to the examination table and removed my top, revealing my chest. Dr. Norman began her examination, her movements precise and methodical.
She asked, “Carl, have you noticed any changes or issues with your body recently? Any pain or discomfort?”
I shook my head, trying to remain composed. “No, not really. Just the usual.”
Dr. Norman then gently instructed, “Please also remove your pants and underwear. I need to check a few more things.”
I hesitated, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. Mom moved closer, offering a supportive hand and a reassuring smile. With a sigh, I complied, removing the rest of my clothing. Dr. Norman carefully examined me, noting the absence of testicles. She then asked me to lie down on the examination table as she prepared for an ultrasound.
Dr. Norman applied warm gel to my lower abdomen and positioned the ultrasound device. Her expression became focused as she moved the device around, looking intently at the screen. After a few minutes, she shut down the device and wiped off the gel.
“All right, you can get dressed now,” she said, giving me a reassuring smile. I quickly put my clothes back on and sat down beside Mom.
Dr. Norman reviewed her findings with us. “Carl, the ultrasound confirms that you have no testicles. Additionally, you have all the female reproductive organs, including a fully functioning womb.”
I looked at Mom, my heart racing. Dr. Norman then took a small, pen-like tool and gently pricked my finger to take a blood sample. She called Ava in to test the blood for Gender Change Syndrome (GCS), a condition where individuals’ gender characteristics can shift.
After a brief wait, Dr. Norman returned with a tablet in hand. “The results are in,” she said. “Carl, you are indeed a GCS girl. Your DNA confirms that you are biologically a girl.”
She continued, “According to the law, you have two weeks to start living as a girl. If CPS (Child Protective Services) comes and sees that you’re not living as a girl by then, they will remove you from your mom’s custody.”
The weight of her words hit me hard. I knew the next two weeks would be critical, and I needed to adjust to this new reality to avoid any further complications.
The ride home was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. Once we arrived, I opened the door and stepped inside, followed by Mom.
“When do we start?” I asked, my voice betraying my anxiety.
Mom looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I want to make sure I don’t end up in a foster home,” I said. The thought of being separated from her was unbearable. “I need to start living as a girl so that won’t happen.”
Mom’s expression shifted as she considered this. “Well, the first thing you’ll need is some lingerie. To get that, you’ll need to be measured. Luckily, I run a boutique, so I can take care of that for you. We’ll get you some essentials and start from there.”
The idea of wearing lingerie was unsettling, but I didn’t have a choice. I agreed to let Mom measure me, and she promised to return soon with the necessary items. While she was out, I took the opportunity to unpack the rest of my belongings from the previous day. I carefully unpacked my guitar, violin, and saxophone. My dad used to joke that I’m a one-man band, but I’ve always loved music, and he made sure all of us took music lessons.
Johnny can play the piano and guitar. Dicky and Peter aren’t great, but they manage; Dicky plays the flute, while Peter, surprisingly, plays the English horn—both instruments seem out of character for those two baboons. As I was organizing everything and setting up my violin notes, I heard my phone ring. Feeling too lazy to check who it was, I decided to take the easy route.
“Siri, who’s calling?” I asked.
Comments
Lajien
That's not an actual Syndrome, it's fictional, and I hope people would stop saying it's intersex.
Michelle Kurtz
The syndrome and the law seems really contrived. It would make more sense for the law to just be supporting the kids. The syndrome would make more sense if it was just a missed intersex diagnosis at birth
Lajien
The story is totally fictional, so this syndrome is not true
Sarah Mackenzie
You lost me with this syndrome thing, was good up until that point. That said, you can’t make everybody happy.
