I 'chose' to be this way

What would get you to 'choose' this?

Has it been three years already?  God, as I look back on it I realize they were right all along.  They told me that I would end up a beautiful sexy sensual woman.  They told me that while they wouldn’t let leave their ‘academy’, that they wouldn’t force a single change on me.  That I’d choose to be this way.  

They housed all of us new freshmen in the girls dorms.  Any thought of getting some action from the girls there was quickly dashed by the chastity devices we all had to wear.  The first choice came that night… we could stay in our current room which had the air of a prison cell, or we could choose to stay in the girly femmy rooms.  That week we could choose to go to class, but we’d have to let everybody call us by our new names.  It only took a few days to realize that having everybody call me ‘Candy’ was better than sitting in that plush room alone with nothing to do all day. 

The classes were all about being girly.  Makeup, hair, walking in heels, mannerisms, fashion, flirting, and stuff like that.  They said we could take some regular classes, but that we’d have to wear lingerie under our clothes.  It seemed like a good trade.  I’d get to hang out with some guys and they wouldn’t need to know what kind of underwear I was wearing… but once they heard me introduced as Candy they all avoided contact with me.  Bobby even said aloud that he didn’t want to be friend with some tomboy.  And while the other boys avoided me, the girls all pitied me.     

It was a lonely semester.  I wasn’t the only freshman going through this, but we weren’t allowed to interact with each other.  When they offered a field trip off campus I put my foot down.  They would only let us go if we wore girl clothes and I wasn’t going to let that happen.   But when the field trip got back and I saw how much fun the other freshman had had… well I picked out a pink skirt and white sweater to go out on the next field trip.  

The choices just kept coming.  I’d almost always refuse them, but once I saw how much fun the other freshman had I eventually went along.  We could go to the movies if we styled our hair appropriately.  We could eat better food if we had our makeup on.  We could go to the sporting events if we did our nails.  We could watch television if wore our jewelry.  We could go to the bar if we wore heels.  Each choice was permanent.  We couldn’t go back to our hold hairstyles or clothes or shoes.  But each choice made the girls accept us a little more.  Each choice made the guys tease us a little less. 

By the end of the second year I was a young lady by just about any measure.  The choices were still there, but they were getting harder and harder.   I had plastic surgery twice that year.  I made my face far more feminine… smaller nose, plumper lips, softer cheekbones, more delicate chin… just so that I could have some actual friends.   The classes were getting harder too.  I almost fainted when we started Fellatio 101.  Two times a week I found myself in a classroom full of girls learning how to orally please a realistic dildo.  As embarrassed as I was, I thought I did well until the final.  Some of the boys on campus came and we had to really do it.   Maybe it was my gagging, maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the fact that my ‘partner’ Bobby said it was the worst blow job of his life…. But I failed the class. 

A small part of me was proud to have failed.  I didn’t’ want to be a girl and I certainly didn’t want to be THAT kind of girl.  But that pride faded away when my counselor told me I’d have to take that semester over.  That I wouldn’t graduate and be allowed to leave this horrid academy.  That was my crossroads.  My rubicon.  I would either be damned and spend the rest of my life here at the academy, or I would have to accept what was happening to me and do everything in my power to succeed.  When my counselor said she could set me up with Bobby to practice for my classes I agreed to it.  I even agreed when he added his personal demand… that I get breasts implanted. 

Agreeing to have Bobby help me meant that he would help me in everything.  He became my ‘boyfriend’ in every sense of the word and was added to all of my other choices.  I dyed my hair blonde because he liked it better.  I put my makeup on in the way he liked.  I only wore clothes he approved of.  And for all that I got the benefit of him letting me ‘practice’ with him every night. 

That was a year ago.  Bobby and I have been boyfriend/girlfriend ever since.  He takes me out most night and treats me like a princess.  He convinced me to join the cheerleading squad so that I could cheer him on at the football and basketball games.  For the most part he seems to forget that I was ever anything other than his perfect girl.  That is until he sees my caged clitty.  That’s what I ‘chose’ to call my penis.  I just keep being his perfect girl and he keeps helping me pass my classes.  For the home-ec classes I agreed to move into Bobby’s off campus apartment.  For the anal sex class, I agreed to sleep with him every night. 

They just announced what each of our senior thesis will be.   Mine is going to be “The perfect trophy wife”.  I’ve already started hinting to Bobby what kind of engagement ring I’d like and what kind of marriage ceremony would be my favorite.  And for his part, Bobby seems to be going along…. But he’s also hinting at what he wants.  I just read the brochure he left out on our bedside table.

I have to admit… I never knew how quickly you could recover from a complete sexual reassignment surgery. 

source:  fuskator