I really wasn't that excited for my birthday.  My aunt, my mother's sister, was coming though and I was looking forward to see her as it had been some time.  It was a quiet birthday, as birthdays go.  Just my mom, aunt, and I.  My father had been away for work.  My mom made my favorite meal along with cake.  Candles were lit, "Happy

Birthday" was sung, and presents were open.  My aunt had given me a bunch of clothes, there was a particular shirt they wanted me to try on and insistent I put it on there.  I couldn't decide if they already knew, or

if they were just trying to be cheeky about it.  My attempts at modesty, excusing

myself to my room to change clothes were being met with an insistence I do it here and

now, even going so far as to use my full name. I turned around, lifted my shirt.  I attempted not to hear my mom ask me "What's that?", referring to the bandage wrap around my chest.  When I attempted to slip the shirt down, my attempt was met with another, louder, "What is that?"  I feigned stupidity and asked her "What?"  My aunt at this point looked as though she was confused and concerned about what she had brought herself into the middle of.  "Take it off," my mother said.  "What?" I again inquired.  "You know what!" she retorted. 

A sense of sincere dread had been building up in me since she first noticed.  I knew nothing good was going to come of this and more importantly I knew she would never give up until she knew for certain what was going on.  My parents were great at ignoring me until that one moment that they had to be there in my life, but it seemed she now had a very real concern for my health and safety.  I unhooked the cleats that held the wrap binding my breasts in place, and began to unwrap them.  "Now turn around," she said. 

At first my aunt, followed shortly by my mother, both let out a somewhat horrified gasp.  My mother insisted I explain what was going on, her anger and disappointment were palatable.  No sooner had I finished telling her, and she had called my father. 

The disbelief in my father's voice could be heard across the room from the phone.  With every mention of my circumstance a loud "WHAT?" could be heard.  Had the situation not been serious, it would have been a humorous thing to have witnessed.  My mom asked my father what they should do, as she listened she stepped out of the room to have that conversation with him. 

Initially my mother was insistent that I leave the house immediately.  The level of disgust for me at that moment hurt deeply.  My aunt blunted some of my mother's anger and allowed me time to get my things packed, but at least in the short term I was only being kicked out of the house.  I had called John, asking if I could stay at his house, and if he could pick me up.  The majority of my stuff I left behind, evidence of a person and a life I was essentially leaving behind.  On this particular day, Alexander died.

With a hug from my aunt I stepped out of my boyhood home for the last time, stuffing a couple of shopping bags of clothes, and a backpack with everything else into the back seat of John's car, then road away.  For as often as I thought of the emancipation of my feminine self, I never quite thought my family would be a casualty in it.  I wasn't given a second chance to explain myself in person or even over the phone.  I was simply told the next day by my father that I was no longer their child.  Had I just come out as gay, I think my parents might have been able to process that, but it was the fact that without their knowledge or permission, I had gone about changing my sexuality. 

For John this was the moment he had been waiting for.  As we walked into the house, he took my things up the stairs and said he'd put them in the room.  I asked "Which one?"  He said, "The master," and began making his way up the stairs.  I went into the bathroom, stepped into a hot shower, and began sobbing.  I understood that my parents were angry, and why they were.  There was a lot there to be angry with.  But it was the failure on their part to see through their anger and both recognize and accept me as their child.

When I was finished with my shower, I grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and began lightening my hair.  When I was finished, I looked at myself in front of the mirror again and officially Alexis was born.  I stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed a pair of panties and slipped them on.  Found one of John's sweatshirts, put that on and walked downstairs.His embrace was honest, warm, and welcomed.  He was really into my hair color, though it wouldn't be perfect for a bit, but he was liking me as a blonde.  When I reached up into a cupboard to get a big mug, he stood behind me, his hard cock in this pants, pressed into my back, when again he hugged me. 

After he ate dinner, he changed into something more comfortable, then joined me on the couch for a bit of TV. 

After a few hours we retired to the bedroom.  After getting ready for bed, I took the sweatshirt off and slipped into bed.  Tired, I began dozing.  After John finished getting ready, he slipped out of his clothes and into bed.  I felt his kisses against my shoulders and neck, down my back, and ass.  Spreading my ass apart, he began eating my ass out.  I wasn't particularly interested in sex, but it felt good, and I needed and wanted someone to love me.   

After a few minutes, I felt his cock against my ass, then with the force of his body pushing down on me.  My ass spread open to receive him.  My head buried in a pillow, I cried.  My cries masked as moans of pleasure.  We didn't fuck for very long, when he was finished we kissed then I rolled over on my side and went to sleep.  It wouldn't be an easy sleep, there was so much I had to deal with.  Some of it I was prepared for.  Some of it, because of the circumstances, I wasn't. 

I had committed to living as a girl.  The challenge of trying to hide who I was physically was more work and stress than I was willing to continue to do.  Convincing the school to allow me to re-enroll as Alexis wasn't as challenging as I thought it would be.  It would be less disruptive for everyone involved, especially if the only people who absolutely needed to know my original identity were those who absolutely had to know.  Mainly the principal, vice principal. 

On Friday after finalizing the details at school, I walked up Luke during lunch break while he was at his locker and asked if he could help me find my mine.  He didn't recognize me.  Yeah, he's not very observant, but honestly no one recognized me as a girl.  After charmingly presenting me my locker, I reached up and kissed him.  With a dumbfounded look, I said "It's me." in a hushed voice.  After explaining to him the situation he asked if that meant I can be his girlfriend, meaning it wouldn't be hidden any longer and I was someone he could show off to his friends.  When I said "Yeah", he kissed me.  So most of his lunch period I sat being introduced to his friends, some of them mutual friends that I had to act like I didn't know or knew nothing about, other people I knew about but either didn't like or didn't associate with.  For Luke it was an opportunity to show off the girlfriend he kept saying existed for an entire year but none of his friend had gotten to meet.

For quite some time I struggled with everything that had happened.  But the longer I lived live as a girl, the more comfortable I had become with everything.