The next day I was at the pitch with Miss Snell around an hour before my soon-to-be teammates would start arriving. I had already been transformed into Tabitha earlier in the morning: my hair was put into a high ponytail and I was wearing a pink thong and a pink Nike sports bra. Over this I was wearing a pair of white football shorts and a Manchester United football top. I had tried to protest about the top, being a Manchester City fan, but Miss Snell insisted. The top was hers, and she said "no niece of mine is wearing the enemy's kit", with a wink and big grin.

We spent several hours that evening talking about what had just happened and what was going to happen over the coming weeks. The entire time I was sat wearing the leggings and sports bra Miss Snell had asked me to wear. It was all incredibly surreal, but undoubtedly exciting. I could feel my penis getting aroused during the initial stages of our conversation, but luckily my gaff kept it from springing loose. After about 15 minutes, that initial excitement died down, and the whole situation began to feel completely normal.

I placed the football down on the penalty spot. Heart thumping, I took three strides back and then one to my left. One last glance at the goal and a deep breath. I knew what I had to do. All 9 takers prior to me had converted their spot-kicks. Score, and the shoot-out went to sudden death; miss, and we'd lost the county cup final. I began my run-up, knowing I planned to put the ball into the top-right corner of the goal, out of the keeper's reach.

“It’s like the end of some detective show, isn’t it?”

This is a bit of a re-released. I missed the end off of the story

This is a bit of a what if storyline, the start mirrors my own life but makes the choice I never did. I was around 8 when this story happens and as I came out as a trans woman later in life makes me wonder what if.

Shadowsblade a Whateley Tale: Written by Shadowsblade

Created for war and forged in pain, dealing with demons within and without.

“If you could be Jennifer all the time, would you want to?”

 

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I like being me, too, but if I had to choose between never being Jennifer again, and always being her... I think I might choose Jennifer.”

I wish I could get you
Out of my mind
But I think about it all the time
And I wish I could not think
For once in my life
But when I see your face
I can't escape my mind

“Really?”
“Yeah, fake bitch. Think some dress makes you a girl?”
“I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
“Let’s check, Zach, How’s that feel?”
“Let me go and you’ll feel something!”

I blame it all on dad. He was a glutton. He ate himself to death.

I want to make some things perfectly clear.
First of all, I NEVER said I was a girl.
I was not girly in any way.
I wasn’t petite. I’m slightly above medium height (male).
I did not have long flowing golden locks. Not exactly short but certainly not long.
I was not a social outcast. Actually, I was quite popular in school and did honor list (though not potential Valedictorian) well in school.

“I’d have liked to see you change, but I guess I should have said so directly, instead of just hinting that I’d like to meet Jennifer.”

 

“Oh. Scott thought it might be easier to get here unchallenged if I were already Jennifer. Maybe next time.”

Part 1: First Impressions

I sat in silence during dinner, not wanting to bring up anything up to my parents, since the other parents had not told them anything about the past few days. I imagined a small mob of pitchforks and torches slowly advancing upon our house and I would have to talk about everything. We were just about to have dessert when there was a loud knock on the front door.