A Girl Like That

I have a drivers license with that name on it and there is a picture of a stunned looking girl in the top corner of that license. The picture matches my reflection. I find that ID in my wallet when they ask for it, and I know that even though I remember another ID and another name in that place, those memories are from another person and another life. One no less real, but one that may or may not exist anymore.

And I don't know how to feel about that.

"Emily Ross," the second girl said, pulling out my envelope and handing it to me across the table, "Welcome to Phineas College, Freshman!"

She was all smiles and pleasantry and I remembered her. I remembered the hope that I had looking at her, the desire that I felt in me to find a girl like that to be my girlfriend. I'd stumbled over my words and stuttered my name out at them, unable to keep the blush out of my cheeks. They had been thoroughly unimpressed, not cruel but not interested in the slightest and that tone was one that followed me from that point all the way to the end of my time at Phineas. Fuck that, it followed me beyond.

I'd never had any luck with the fairer sex. Hadn't had much luck with the other sex either. I guess you could say that I just wasn't good with people in general, and clearly being in this new body hadn't changed that core little part of me.

Because after I took the envelope I just stood there for a bit, meek as a mouse while I struggled to find something to say in response. It should have been so easy, would have been for a dozen other people. Meaningless platitudes are so easy for some, but for me they've always been uncompromisingly difficult.

"Thanks," I finally muttered, eyes falling down to the table and then turning quickly I walked just out of sight of them, around the corner of a building so I could press my back up to it, clutch the envelope to my chest, and take in a few deep gulps of air to center myself.

They must have thought that I was gone. They certainly talked like they did.

"Freshman are so cute," I heard one say to the other, "They're always so... out of their depth."

"Yeah," the other replied, "But she'll do just fine."

"You think so?" the first responded, sounding doubtful.

"Girl like that? She'll be out of her shell by the end of the first week and be a heart breaker for the rest of her time here. I bet she's got what it takes to have boys eating out of the palm of her hand."

The first girl laughed, clearly not buying it, so the second responded back in reply.

"I bet she's got a killer figure under that bulky sweater of hers. That's the way it always goes with girls like that. Sweet and innocent girl next door, but a fucking freak when they want to be. They know just how to make boys fall head over heels, and just how to get what they want out of them whether that be someone to buy them dinner or a nice thick hard- Oh hello! Sorry I didn't see you there. Welcome to Phineas College, can I have your name?"

I was blushing, my cheeks burning as I blinked hard and stared into the middle distance. Those girls, they had ideas about me. Ideas about who I really was that were all bound up with my appearance, with the way that I looked on the outside.

But the woman I was on the outside wasn't a reflection of who I was on the inside. I was a man, not some cute little girl next door. I was a man in his mid-thirties trapped in this body and this life and god, if they had those expectations than what would other people think of me? And what about the other thing she said. That I had a 'killer figure' under my bulky sweater. Was there any truth to that?

I stared down at the top of the envelope and the press of the sweater against it. I stared at the way the fabric bulged around my breasts, my memory rushing back to the moment in the bathroom and those few stolen moments of touch.

The soft skin, so smooth and so warm. The firmness and yet the swells. The expectation of more.

The throbbing heat in my belly, pulsing between my thighs. That need which, truthfully, had never fully subsided.

I needed to get out of here. I needed to move, before I fell back into the depths of a need I did not in the least bit understand.

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