Discharged

You immediately go through the papers, wanting to get them out of your life as soon a possible. It takes some getting used to but you feel you were getting pretty decent at signing a new name with your new, smaller, more slender hands. Your father took the papers and left the room leaving you with your mom.

"Uh, mom," you say tentatively, a blush creeping across your cheeks.

"Yes Tim?"

"I uh, I have to use the bathroom."

"Oh, of course honey."

Slowly you're helped out of bed by your mother. You had a cast on each your left leg and arm which made things considerably more difficult, but the two of you make your way into the attached bathroom.

Being out of bed was radically different from being in bed. With the covers removed, standing out your feet, you suddenly got your first real feel at being in a new body, especially as you felt the air up your hospital gown. The first thing you noticed was how much lighter you felt, despite the heavy casts weighing you down, then it was you lack of, well, manhood, as the air crept up your body. Your chest still felt mostly normal except the weight distribution felt off.

Once you reached the toilet you lifted up the gown with your free hand and plopped down on the seat. Your mom left the bathroom. For a moment you wondered how girls go, but you just let yourself go as you normally would and the moment was over, then you realized you had a new problem.

"Mom," you call out and she renters the room. "I'm, uh, I can't wipe myself mom."

"Well of course you—" Jennifer starts but then realizes when she sees the pained expression on you face. "Of course, you're—Tabitha." She reaches for the toilet paper and you look away. It was over in two seconds but it was now the most embarrassing two seconds of your life.

"When can I get out of here?" you ask your mom.

"Actually, you've already been discharged, we just didn't want to rush you."

"Yeah, well I just want to get out of here."

Your mother nods. "I'll get you your clothes. They're...maybe a little more of what you would wear, but they're still girl's clothes."

Turning out of the room again your mom is gone for all of a few seconds before she comes back in.

"Do you...need help?" she asks, holding the pile of clothes.

"No, I don't think so."

The clothes are placed in your lap and Jennifer leaves the room. You sift through the pile. On top was a plain white girl's t-shirt, and under that a gray sweater. The next items made you blush. There was a pair of white panties and a white sports bra, which you we're thankful for, considering you had no idea how to put a regular one on. Under the underwear was a pair of gray sweatpants. You set the pile aside and slip the panties on up to your knees, and then the sweatpants. After standing up, and with some maneuvering, you pull the two pieces of clothing on, feeling much more secure. The rest of the outfit was a little harder to put on, from pulling the robe off to getting the cast on your arm through the holes. It didn't help that you kept your eyes shut until the sports bra was on.

"Mom!" you call, but it's your father who enters the room this time.

"Sorry Tim, your mother had to step out for a second. She hasn't left your side the whole time."

You shake your head. "Its no problem, I just need help getting out of here."

It's sort of a slow process, with all the checks you had to go through and papers you had to sign, but you're finally wheeled out in a wheelchair to a brand new car. You almost want to make a comment about it, but you're **** to swallow a lump in your throat.

The ride home is silent. Everybody wants to say something but no one knows what. It wasn't until you pulled into the driveway that your dad turned around to you.

"You may have thought about this already Tim, but in case you haven't, your mother and I are going to have to call you Tabitha from now on, at least until you decide to tell David, and never out in public."

That was something you had not given thought to. Since you woke your mind had been racing, mostly about losing Tabitha, about being a girl, and how scared you were.

"Yeah, thanks, I guess—yeah. That makes sense."

You're helped out of the car and back into your wheelchair, which you were told you wouldn't have to be in for much longer. You could progress to crutches when your elbow healed in about a week's time.

"Tabitha!" yells your brother's voice as soon as you're in the door. You see David running across the room before you're pulled into a hug. Tears form in your eyes as you hug David back. "You're finally back," he says, not letting go.

The two of you just stay there for a while, hugging each other. A pang of guilt hits you as you realize just how much you'll be deceiving, lying to David if you don't tell him who you really are.