A boy dresses as a girl: advice from a psychologist. Tales of Forced Dressing in Girl's Clothes Tales of a Boy Turned into a Girl

You don't even need a magic wand!
Those who wish, of course, can turn into a boy. :)
Under the cut, in fact, a lot of boring, and only a little bit of magic.

Continue reading Lenses of Gender. In the chapter " The development of masculinity - femininity in "normal" children"Sandra Behm retells the content of the work Lawrence Kohlberg ( Lawrence Kohlberg ), where he writes about the “pre-operational stage of the development of the intellect” (the most important thoughts for my further reasoning are highlighted):

“... the pre-operational stage of the development of the intellect ... lasts, according to Piaget, from about eighteen months to seven years. This stage has some intellectual limitations, of which only two are relevant to this discussion.

First, a child at the stage of pre-operational intelligence is an egocentric "moral realist" ( Piaget 1932), who tends to regard all rules and patterns as absolute and universal. No distinction is made between the physical, the social normative and the moral. Every rule is a moral obligation; every regularity is an immutable moral law. Kohlberg describes the connection between egocentric moral realism and rigid gender traditionalism, noting that the "physical constants" underlying gender "tend to be identified with divine or moral law, and the need to adapt to the physical patterns of one's own identity is defined as a moral duty." Children believe that same-sex behavior is "morally necessary" and express "their dissatisfaction with children who deviate from sex-related behavior" (1966, p. 122).

Secondly, a child who is at the preoperational stage of intellectual development is not yet able to mentally "transform", that is, transform any object of the real world perceived by him. From here inability to "remain unchanged"- to understand that the basic identity of an object remains the same, even after a series of changes in different impressions about this object. In this way, the child in the preoperative stage is limited in perception , that is, focused on the surface attributes of objects and tends to perceive them as defining even when they are not.. This second limitation, characteristic of preoperational thinking, makes it difficult for a child to understand that even when a person's physical appearance changes dramatically, his or her gender remains the same. This forces the child to conform to gender even more rigidly than in other areas of knowledge, since, from the point of view of a child at the stage of pre-operational intelligence, a person must look and act like a man or a woman in order to really be a man or a woman.

So, what happens - in the mind of a child there is a rigid connection between superficial features (clothing, hairstyle, behavior) and the inner essence (sex), that is, a boy should look and behave like a boy, and a girl - like a girl. But if there is a direct relationship, then why not be the opposite? That is - looking like a boy is a boy, and looking like a girl is a girl. And there is such a connection too - further Sandra Bem writes about the experience with photographs that revealed such a correspondence.

Well, now the actual “transformation” - if I, being a boy, want to become a girl for some reason, then what should I do? Well, of course - put on women's clothes, and behave accordingly.

Moreover, since at this age children are usually poorly aware of the biological differences between boys and girls (Sandra Bem writes: “... only about half of the three-year-old and four-year-old children I tested, as well as children who had recently reached five years old, had knowledge of the genitals sufficient for correct determining (from color photographs) the sex of four small children, naked at least below the waist.), a child in disguise can actually believe in his transformation.

Let us now recall the cases of "innocent fun" when mothers dress their sons as daughters, or encourage the "transgender" appearance and behavior of their children.

In today's highly gender-polarized society, they are paving the way for their children into the ranks of the "not like that." If the child is not sufficiently aware of the fundamental differences between the sexes, and even more so if he has some dissatisfaction with his gender, he may indeed believe in "transformation". Moreover, such faith can be internal, not flaunted.

So decide what is the lesser of evils - to firmly direct the child to the “correct” gender, thereby suppressing some part of his personality, to allow “liberty”, for which you may then have to pay, or to dedicate the baby to “adults” details of sexual dimorphism.

And if the pre-operational stage lasts up to seven years...

Well, now you understand where all these MTF-revelations come from in the spirit: “I have always, from early childhood, felt like a woman”? Yes, of course, I felt that if all I had to do at this age was to put on a dress ...

Children believe in miracles - a fact. My seven-year-old daughter, for example, seriously believes that there is a real magic wand, and even wanted to order one for Santa Claus as a Christmas present. Just a year ago, a sweet child shed tears in three streams, experiencing the collapse of a cherished dream - it turned out to be neither a fairy princess nor a fairy, unfortunately, it will not work ... Fairy! So what to talk about such a "trifle" as the transformation from a boy into a girl, or vice versa? Another thing is that the vast majority of children do not want this. But not everyone is the same...

What does every lady do? each TV for its "transformation"?

Reminds me of recipes from my childhood.

I grew up as a modest, quiet boy, studied well at school, but at the same time, because of my character, I was considered a "black sheep" in the class, and was subjected to various ridicule and humiliation from classmates. I was under the strong guardianship of my mother, she cherished and cared for me too much. All the clothes that I wore, she bought me herself, in choosing clothes I was not independent, what my mother would buy, I wore. And the choice of mom often differed from the normal clothes suitable for a boy. I wore usually ridiculous sweatshirts, ugly trousers, my clothes were too similar to the clothes of "nerds" and were not at all fashionable. Even I thought it was a little girly.

Maybe that's why, too, I was the laughing stock of the class.
When I was 14 years old, I suddenly noticed a pack of tights appeared in my closet. Mom always put in my closet only my clothes, either old or new, which she bought me, but only my clothes. Therefore, the appearance of my mother's tights in the closet at first seemed strange to me.
I asked my mother why she put me pantyhose. Mom, it seemed to me, was even outraged by my question.
- I bought you pantyhose, what's strange? - she said.
- But these are women's tights! I replied.

What do you care women or not? You will wear them under trousers, instead of tights, so as not to freeze in the cold.
Frankly, the last time I wore pantyhose was only when I went to kindergarten, and in the future, this non-male clothing moved out of my wardrobe, like all boys. Wearing tights is the prerogative of girls. And then, thanks to my mother, tights again appear in my wardrobe. They were tight nylon tights, about 50 denier, black. I began to constantly wear them to school under trousers, as my mother ordered.
At first it was awkward to wear pantyhose, I felt somehow girly, being in pantyhose. But then I got used to it. No one at school seemed to notice what I was wearing under my trousers. Although when I was sitting, the trousers slightly rose up and at the very bottom of the legs one could see tights. Yes, by the way, many girls in our class at that age wore tights, and looking at them, I understood them. The only difference was that they showed their legs in skirts, and I wore trousers.

Gradually, new packages of tights began to appear in my closet. Mom began to actively buy them for me, even though I had not yet torn my old tights. I just now have tights in different colors. In addition to the black ones, my mother bought white and pink ones. Let's just say the colors are girly, and the tights themselves were with patterns and lace. But nothing can be done, I had to wear them.
After about 2 months, I got so used to tights that it became almost natural for me to wear them. And then one day when I opened my closet, I found there white women's pantaloons with lace. At first, their appearance made me smile, I decided that my mother threw them at me by mistake. But when I asked my mother what the pantaloons were doing in my closet, she said that she bought them for me.

In winter, you need to take care of the warmth of your legs, and that's why I bought you tights. But you also need to take care of the warmth of the upper legs and genitals, so now I bought you pantaloons too. They retain heat well. And women - because there are no others.
"But other boys don't wear women's pantaloons!" I objected.

And I don't care what others wear, so let them freeze! And my son will wear what I say!
It was useless to argue and the next day I came to school dressed in pantyhose and women's pantaloons, under the bottom of my trousers. Naturally, no one could notice this, but nevertheless, at first I was extremely embarrassed ... Well, at least I did not have to go to physical education, since I had an exemption, due to problems with my physical weakness, and therefore I did not have to change clothes in front of everyone. Yes, I was weak as a girl, if someone tried to attack me at school, I could not defend myself and usually cried if they beat me too hard.
After some time, my mother bought me another girl's thing. It was a transparent nightie, with lace at the chest and around the edges of the nightie. Naturally, before putting it on, I asked my mother: why did she buy me a nightgown for girls. Mom replied:
- It's beautiful! Sleeping in it will be very comfortable. Not the one in your ridiculous boyish T-shirt.
- Well, it's a girl's clothes!

So what? You've been wearing girly pantyhose and knickers for a long time. So why are you resisting the nightie? Sleeping in it will be very comfortable. Try it and then tell me if you like it or not.
So my mom convinced me to try it. I put on a white nightgown immediately before going to bed, after taking off my T-shirt. Mom was present at the same time and controlled that I dressed her.
- That's all, and you were afraid. Sleep, my little one! Mom said and kissed me on the cheek. Yes, despite her 14 years, my mother allowed such tenderness with me and treated me like a little one.
Yes, to admit, it was pleasant to sleep in a nightgown. You feel pampered and weak like a girl in a nightgown, you want to plunge into sweet dreams. Thus, the girl's nightgown, from that moment on, became my usual sleepwear.
In the morning I naturally took it off and dressed for school as usual.

But if my mother said that she buys me girls' underwear, as it protects from the cold, then with the onset of spring, logically, I should stop wearing it. And finally, spring has come and I hoped that now there would be no pantyhose and pantaloons - just trousers on bare legs and it would not be cold.
But it was not there! As the weather warmed up, I found a new pair of tights in my closet. I opened the package and decided to try them on. These were very thin 20-denier tights, the kind that girls wear in the warm season. I came to my mother to find out what they are for me:
- Mom, why did you buy me thin tights? They after all do not protect from heat, and do not give any effect, except as "beauty".
- Because spring is coming and all the girls are starting to wear thin tights, so I bought them for you too ... - said my mother.
But I'm not a girl!

Who cares? I can see that you want to wear girlish clothes! That's why I bought you spring tights.
How my mother knew that I wanted to wear girls' clothes, I did not know. In a way, she was actually right. Part of me wanted to wear girlish clothes, experiencing some kind of pleasure and secret passion from this, and the other part of me resisted and urged me to be a normal kid and throw all these girly things out of my life.
But in the end it was the girly part of my soul that won. I started wearing thin spring tights. In addition, my mother also bought me two pairs of real girl's panties, which as a result completely replaced my men's panties and I began to wear them all the time ... But it became even more humiliating one day to see a size 1 women's bra in my closet. Mom almost could not clearly explain why I need a bra if I do not have female breasts. But my mother forced me to wear a bra very persistently. Until I realized what was what. About two months later, I noticed how my breasts began to swell and increase in size, acquiring completely non-male features. Why this is happening, I have no idea. Somewhere by September 1, by the beginning of the new school year, my breasts had grown to such a size that I already had to hide it from others. And the size 1 bra began to fit me perfectly. Naturally, this caused me great embarrassment and depression. I constantly asked my mother about what was happening to me, but my mother only gave me hints that I need to gradually become a girl, this is for my own good.

At first, I had to wear very loose, wide sweaters to school to hide my large breasts. And it helped at first, although many already knew that something strange was happening to me. My voice and became like a girl and demeanor. Yes, and the bra that I wore under the jacket was once noticed by classmates. This happened when I was sitting in class, and the boys sitting on the back of the desk noticed that under my jacket the bra straps were visible. They jokingly grabbed my bra strap and I realized that my secret was revealed ...

After that, all the boys began to call me "p and dar o m" and even beat me a little. It made me cry like a crybaby. I began to look for my salvation in the company of girls. Only girls could understand me a little, support and accept me into their society, and even then not all girls.
After a couple of months, my breasts grew even more, and now even a thick jacket did not help to hide my breasts from others. And then one day my mother forbade me to wear this wide jacket, having bought me a tight-fitting yellow girl's shirt-shirt, instead of the former rough men's jacket. Having put on this jacket, the first thing I saw in the mirror was two tubercles protruding from under the jacket - my chest stood out so brightly. I almost cried, imagining that I would have to go to school in this form. But there was nowhere to go, the next day at school I looked almost like a girl in this girl's tight sweater. There was a lot of ridicule over me, but I had to endure everything. It was hard at first, but then a lot of people started to get used to the fact that I was half-boy, half-girl, and didn't bother me much.

At first, the teachers also treated me very negatively and even called my parents to school (more precisely, my mother, since I was raised by one mother, my father left us as a child). And my mother managed to assure the teachers that nothing terrible was happening to me, she told the teachers that I had such a strange illness, because of which I was gradually turning into a girl, and she even managed to persuade them to treat me more attentively and politely.
Thus, gradually the attitude of everyone towards me softened, and after a while I became bolder and began to make my own cosmetics. In general, like all girls, she began to strive to look beautiful. Naturally, with the help of my mother - she bought me a cosmetic bag and taught me how to make up. Now I began to go to school only beautifully made up.

After some time, I completely switched to women's clothing. I got bolder and started wearing a skirt, tights, high-heeled shoes, a blouse to school ... In general, I was in full dress. And I also got a beautiful haircut in a women's beauty salon.
Thus began my maiden life. As I later learned, my mother secretly mixed female hormones into my food, thanks to which my breasts grew, my appearance became feminized, and my voice changed. Mom did this because she thought it would be better for both her and me, she always dreamed that I was a girl, and it would be hard for me in society to live with such a weak character if I remained a man.
Maybe she's right. At least now I have almost come to terms with the fact that I am now a girl and I see a lot of advantages in a woman's life ...

Section: Weird, Fetish

On that day, my mother took me to the village. She lectured me all the way. In general, her monologue boiled down to the fact that I was a completely obnoxious boy, but now my manners will forever change for the better.

In general, she was right. Lately I've had problems not only at school, but even with the police when I tried to steal a few boxes of candy from a local store. And also, my mother just hated the company in which I hung out. A week ago, she caught us smoking in the garage.

Summer vacation was just starting, but I told my mom that I don't want to go to the pool this year. This somewhat surprised her, and when she found out the reason, she laughed, which offended me very much. I did not want to go to the pool because I was embarrassed to undress. Other guys teased me and made fun of my "girl tits". I was generally quite chubby, so the fat deposits somewhat resembled the shape of a woman's breasts, but my nipples were the worst. They were swollen, swollen, the size of half a chicken egg. Also, I was the shortest in the class. My mom didn't take me to the hairdresser for months, which gave the guys an extra reason to bully me. My hair was long, almost to my shoulders, and yet it was blond and curly.

Finally we arrived. It was a large house standing alone not far from the road. The door was opened by an attractive middle-aged woman. She had a very strange voice, soft, but at the same time it sounded so that I did not want to argue with her. Mom told me to call her Aunt Mary

Aunt Mary handed me a plastic bag and told me to take off my clothes. While the women were talking, I undressed, and, remaining in shorts and a T-shirt, stood holding trousers and sneakers in my hands. Aunt Mary looked at me and told me to take off my shirt and put everything in a bag. I didn't want to, but then my mother intervened, that "it's better for me to do everything that they say and not annoy Aunt Mary." With a sigh, I took off my shirt and put everything in a bag. Aunt Mary handed the bag over to my mother, and after looking me over, she sent me to the bathroom to take off my panties. A minute later, she held out her hand through the door for my underpants.

I stood in a small bathroom, completely naked, and did not understand what was happening. Through the half-open door, I heard only one phrase ... "Take them too, he won't need them anymore," and then there was a slam of the door closing behind my mother.

I looked at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall and almost cried when I saw my "girl's tits". But then there was a knock on the door, and Aunt Mary with the words "Dress them, and then I'll show you your new house" held out something through the doorway.

They were silk, with a lace trim, pink panties - girl's panties. Well, at least something is still better than naked. And I wore them. But oddly enough, it was nice. They were so smooth that my pussy began to grow.

I slowly walked out of the bathroom, closing mine in front of my hands. Aunt Mary walked around and looked me up and down, then took my hands and pulled them down to my sides. "You have a very beautiful figure, and in general you will be a nice girl" ... she said some strange phrase. I didn't like her, I was frightened and froze motionless. Aunt Mary stroked my breasts, felt my nipples and left. She returned with a small bra in her hands, which she put on me with the words... "This will suit you better than most real girls your age. I will make a real beauty out of you." She took my hand and led me around the house. The house was big and had many rooms. Aunt Mary took me around, showed me, told me, and, in the end, I calmed down. I felt good with her, despite my strange attire.

As a result, we ended up in a large, beautifully furnished bedroom. The whole room was done in white. Beautiful silk curtains hung from the window. The chest of drawers was decorated with a bouquet of flowers. The bed was littered with dresses, skirts, blouses, and other feminine items. "This is your room now," said Aunt Mary. The bathroom adjoined the bedroom, also all white, it smelled very pleasant there. Aunt Mary informed me that now I will take a bath, but first, she must take care of some business, which she promised my mother. She ordered me to bend over and place my hands on the edge of the tub. Aunt Mary sat down on a stool behind me and ordered me to put my feet shoulder-width apart. Then she patted my bottom several times, and then suddenly slapped me hard and very painfully. "Oh!"... I exclaimed jumping up. "Don't move or it will be much worse!"... Aunt Mary said very sternly, again lowering my hands to the edge of the tub. She slapped me again. Without unbending, I grabbed my ass, but Aunt Mary with a decisive movement removed my hand.

I was waiting for the next slap, but instead, Aunt Mary began to tickle and stroke me, and suddenly another slap. Then stroking again. This went on for some time, when suddenly Aunt Mary pulled my panties down to my knees and began to rub my aching, reddened ass with baby oil. I was very embarrassed, but I was afraid to remove my hands from the edge of the bath, expecting an even more cruel slap. But there were no more spankings, and the sensations were very pleasant. Aunt Mary ordered me to get up and turn around. I turned. I was ashamed, I was all red with embarrassment. I stood naked in front of a woman, and even my pussy was hard as a pencil. Aunt Mary touched my pussy with her finger and said that I shouldn’t touch it with my hands, and if I need to go to the toilet a little, then I need to sit down, as girls do, but don’t touch it with my hands, but if any problems suddenly arise, I must contact her. She got up and finally undressed me. Then she turned on the water. "Now we will shave off the beard over your faucet," which she immediately did, returning me to my three-year-old appearance. Aunt Mary washed me, dried me, rubbed me all over with baby oil, and with a towel over my head, took me to the bedroom. She sat me on a stool and began combing my wet hair, smearing it with something good smelling, and winding it on curlers, while informing me that tomorrow we would go to a beauty salon.

The next morning, after another bath, she helped me put on white silk panties with lace inserts, a white silk underwire bra, two cambric pleated underskirts, short white socks trimmed with lace, a not too long dress in soft pink. , with a wide belt, frills, a white embroidered collar and short puffed sleeves, and black patent leather shoes with silver buckles on the sides. Then she tied my hair with a pink ribbon, and in this form we went to the hairdresser.

A few days later...

After the bath, Aunt Mary took me to the bedroom and led me to the bed. Next to the bed was a bedside table with a small pillow on it. Aunt Mary put a towel on the bed and explained what position I should take. It was like being on all fours, only my shoulders were resting on the bedside table and my hands were free. Aunt Mary sat down next to me and put my hands on my ass. She told me to be silent, but if everything was clear to me from what she would tell me, he gave her a sign, parting the halves of the priests twice "D" "A".

Aunt Mary took the baby oil and rubbed it into the hole between the halves of my ass, lubricating the hole a little better. "Now we're going to play a game called 'catch me'"... she said. "Spread the halves, I'll move your finger, and if you feel that it is opposite the hole, you should try to catch me. Do you understand?". I spread the halves three times, the third time, leaving them as wide apart as possible. "But if you miss, you get two slaps." She began to slowly circle her finger around my ass, several times bringing it quite close to the hole, but not exactly above it. When she finally stopped her finger in the right position, I was ready and jerked back. Her finger slipped an inch into me. "Good catch." Aunt Mary oiled me up again and we played a few more rounds. I liked the game, it was a pleasant feeling when Aunt Mary's finger enters my hole. My lower abdomen itched, as if I was about to burst, and my pussy was very swollen. "Pass", two sonorous slaps that stung me brought me back to reality - thinking, I did not track the good moment. Aunt Mary oiled me generously again, this time splattering a little on my pussy. "Now I need to catch more vigorously, I will move my finger faster." I caught her almost immediately, and her finger slipped its full length. I caught and caught her, almost continuously. It was just great. Then Aunt Mary's second hand gently grabbed my pussy. "The game is not over", and I continued to catch her slippery finger, which is now almost continuously being in my hole, entered me somehow especially pleasantly. Suddenly something incredible happened, I literally exploded, the light in my eyes faded, my legs gave way, and there came such a sweet feeling that I had not experienced before.

After a while I came to my senses. Aunt Mary sat next to me and stroked my shoulders. She said that was the climax of the game, that's how special this catch me game is.

And she also said that if I obey her and be a good girl, then we will play almost every day.

From birth, he was forced to fight for his own life.

First he came into conflict with nature. Then the struggle with centuries-old traditions, native people, religion began.

He emerged victorious from a fierce battle. But at what cost did he get this victory?

How was the fate of a transsexual brought up in a Muslim family - read the material of the special correspondent of "MK".

This story is about a young man.

A young man who wanted to be happy.

His dream came true. But for this he had to become a woman, thereby challenging the entire Muslim world ...

A Muslim transsexual is a shocking definition. Most of these people, having learned about the unfair mistake of nature, made in relation to them, commit suicide.

Our story has a different ending.

Most likely happy.

Unless, of course, in this case it is appropriate to talk about happiness ...

Our meeting with Erica fell apart several times.

Deal. Marked the time. At the appointed hour: "The subscriber is temporarily unavailable ...".

I spent the whole next evening just as uselessly on a bench near her entrance.

“She has a broken psyche,” producer Alexander Valov justified the behavior of his ward. - Perhaps someone offended Erica, and she does not want to communicate with anyone. This is normal. For example, she can call in the middle of the night and, choking on tears, clog my brain with her incomprehensible problems for hours.

A week has passed...

I was already desperate to meet the hero of the planned publication, when a short text message came to my cell: “Come. I'm waiting. Erika".

Panel high-rise building near Prospekt Mira.

I go up to the ninth floor.

A girl meets me at the elevator. Hair in a hundred small braids, a lilac-colored velor tracksuit, soft slippers, a massive gold pendant on his chest.

Finally, we met, - Erica chirps as if nothing had happened. - Last time ... I sowed the phone, - the interlocutor lies clumsily.

Only an hour later...

You know, in fact, I just hung out in a new company and forgot about our meeting ... - the girl innocently clapped her fluffy eyelashes.

"She is a real woman!" - then flashed through my head. Optional, flirtatious, cutesy, naive…

Stop! But after all in the past she all-??? was a man!

Either a girl, or a vision

Ten years ago, provincial Nalchik shuddered. It happened on the day when a 13-year-old boy from a respected family in the city put on a revealing mini and a transparent top, clumsily put on a defiant make-up and went out to the central square ...

Don't embarrass your family! - rushed from neighboring yards. - You will bring your mother to the grave ahead of time! Your father will curse you!

But the young man did not even move his ear. Then he deliberately challenged the entire Muslim society and decided to live by his own laws.

Our people have a very special mentality. Kabardians value public opinion so much that it became unbearable for me to exist in that environment, - the interlocutor reaches for a cigarette. - But nevertheless, even in Nalchik, I did not hide, I did not hide my essence from anyone. Moreover, on every corner she shouted that nature created me as a woman, only for some reason she made confusion regarding my body.

According to Erika's passport, she still remains Tahir, which means "pure". Her father, a former military man, dreamed of raising a submariner from his only son, which is why he named his firstborn in honor of a close friend who tragically died during naval exercises.

Already in kindergarten, I was aware of myself as a girl and could not understand why they were taking me to play with the boys, - Eric bites her lip. - Parents swore terribly when they caught me with a bow on my head or in a sister's dress. I was indignant: why not, if I'm a girl?

At school, Tahir did not manage to avoid ridicule from his classmates. His unnatural coquettish behavior, strange gait caused a storm of emotions among schoolchildren. Some twisted their fingers at their temples, others frankly scoffed. But no one dared to raise a hand against a girl-boy.

“What to take from a woman ...” - the boys waved their hands.

In high school, I started to paint my lips, bring my eyelids, Erica recalls. - After my mother found a bunch of photographs of me in a female guise, my father took up my upbringing. First of all, he got me a job at a construction site as an assistant superintendent. I came to work in short shorts, a pink tank top with straps, and on my feet were shoes on a massive platform. In this outfit, I ran around the construction site and made everyone laugh.

The old generation, to which Tahir's parents belonged, at that time did not suspect such a phenomenon as transsexualism. They thought the son had a teenage whim! It will pass!

And their boy has long found in the medical encyclopedia the answer to the question that tormented him: who is he really. But can you convince adults?

One day my mother came across my diary. She was in shock. There were described my experiences about first love. No, the subject of my suffering was not a girl. Fu-u-u! I never liked girls, - the interlocutor grimaces. - That young man was 25 years old, I was fourteen. When I confessed my feelings to him, he was not at all surprised. “I understood that you are a boy, but the feminine principle is so developed in you ...” he repeated. It was a short romance. We only dated for a few months.

At the end of school, Tahir received a summons to the military registration and enlistment office. In full female "uniforms" the young man appeared before the military commissar.

Do you want me to die in the army? - from the threshold the young man was capricious. - Do you want me dead? Then I'll go...

Parents had no choice but to come to terms with the decision of their son and in the most banal way "smear" the child from military service.

I spent some time in the hospital. The doctors drew me a fake certificate, and the issue with the army disappeared. Well, what is my service? I get goosebumps just thinking about it. Suddenly I break my nail there, what will I do? It's better to kill yourself right away. By the way, look - Erica shows a barely noticeable scar on her wrist. - This pattern adorns the hands of all transsexuals.

For the first time, Erika thought about suicide back in Nalchik. After another quarrel with her mother, she locked herself in the room and cut with a sharp blade through the veins.

No wonder they say: you can understand a transsexual only by living his life. Erika gained sympathy and understanding by being in a circle of people like her. But for this she had to say goodbye to her stepfather's house.

Erika knew that in Soviet times they tried to treat her illness. A patient suffering from such a mania was most often considered insane. They tried to return the mind with the help of a horse dose of male hormones. As a rule, the treatment did not give results. Most trances committed suicide.

When Tahir showed his parents the meager clippings from specialized magazines about transgender issues, his mother's heart skipped a beat.

I was lucky that my parents did not abandon me, as happened with my friends from Nalchik, who also had operations on themselves, says Erika. - The only thing is when I now come to Kabardino-Balkaria, my father frowns: "Dress at least modestly, you are not in Moscow." Of course, there were those who stopped communicating with our family. God be their judge...

hound breed

The fact that Moscow does not believe in tears, Erika experienced in her own skin when, at the age of 19, she moved from her hometown to the capital.

It was 2000.

I didn't tell my parents about my departure. I just sold my mobile phone and bought a train ticket to Moscow with the proceeds, Erika recalls. - For the sake of my goal, I was ready to sacrifice everything. Upon learning of my escape, my parents cut off all contact with me. But over time, relations have normalized ...

At first, Erika shared a room in a communal apartment with her friend in misfortune from the same Nalchik. For a penny, they performed in underground nightclubs in women's costumes.

Those were hard times, - the interlocutor sighs. - We were taken for perverts, for sick people. But, believe me, my psyche is absolutely healthy. In the seven years I spent in Moscow, I went through such a path that a normal person would have gone crazy long ago ...

The second refuge of Erica was an elite salon for the provision of intimate services. At the beginning of this century, this institution was wildly popular among bankers, politicians, actors ...

I am grateful to the owner of that brothel, who provided me with a well-paid job for five whole years. After all, I needed to raise a decent amount for the operation. Are you asking if it was scary? Not at all! Prostitutes often tell some creepy stories from their practice. This fate has passed me by.

There were no rednecks among my clients. Some of my friends believe that I went the easy way. But this path is chosen by the majority of "ours". After all, with such an appearance and male documents, we are not hired for decent work. A rare transsexual manages to realize himself in a normal profession. As a rule, they work in male guise and receive a penny. And only by the age of fifty can they accumulate enough money for the operation. I changed myself at 24.

Unlike women of easy virtue, Erica easily and painlessly talks about her past.

I made crazy money in a brothel, - the face stretches into a smile. - While normal girls were paid 1,500-2,000 rubles per hour, transsexuals' rates did not fall below $200. The girls were jealous of me. After all, I dressed in expensive stores, they came for me in chic foreign cars, my boyfriends could not be compared with their clients. So there was a war between straight women and transsexuals. But, I must admit, unlike them, I worked hard in Stakhanov's way! An ordinary woman would not have survived such a schedule. My personal record is 17 clients per day. That night, I literally fell off my feet. But the next day I bought myself a fox fur coat for 2,000 euros.

All this time, Erica took the strongest hormonal drugs. Due to the effects of drugs, her sexual activity increased every day.

Six months later, the hair on my face disappeared, the forms were rounded. From an angular teenager, I turned into a chiseled girl, - the interlocutor boasts. - By nature, I have a thin bone, so I did not recover at all. I have a hound breed. With a height of 174 cm, I weigh only 48 kg. And what a holiday I had when my breasts finally grew! And at first the bust hurt unbearably, it was impossible to touch it. But I was still happy! Lord, thank you!

... Erica underwent her first plastic surgery in October 2005. Removed the "Caucasian" hump on the nose. And in March last year, she increased her breasts to the third size.

I received permission for the last operation in a month. Whereas for most trannies it takes a year, explains Erica. - The doctors diagnosed me with a nuclear type, that is, a “pure”, real transsexual. And six months ago, I finally got rid of the male genital organ. Moreover, the surgeon even managed to save my orgasm! I left the hospital on the twelfth day after the operation. To celebrate, she immediately put on high stilettos, a transparent dress and lit up in the club all night.

Today, no man can distinguish Erika from an ordinary woman. Long legs, high breasts of impeccable shape, wasp waist. Even without a hint of makeup, she looks stunning. Hollow eyes, pouty lips, sharp cheekbones. They say about such people: “coming off the cover”.

Girls, do you want some coffee? - a magnificent lady with the same African pigtails on her head, like my interlocutor, looks into the room.

Meet Zarina, - introduces Eric's friend. - The three of us - another countrywoman went to the store - we are renting this "kopeck piece". Imagine, we lived in the same city for so many years, and met only in Moscow. Unlike me, the girls had a difficult situation. Their parents are not even aware of the diagnosis of their children. Arriving in Nalchik, girls cut their hair and put on men's clothes. In general, they play the role of naturals. Although both have been taking hormones for many years, they have not yet decided on an operation. These are called the third gender. Centaurs. Neither women nor men. But their time may be running out. Today they are young and beautiful. Exotic! And what will happen in 30 years?

unfeminine strength

Erica's room is immaculately clean. Almost the entire already modest area is occupied by a huge double bed. On the coffee table is a music center. On the closet are plush toys.

Leafing through the photo album.

Here is my Aleksey, - the card shows a tall blond with an athletic build. - We lived together for about two years. I left my job at the brothel for him. He left his wife and child. We met on the Internet. We talked online for a year. And then he came to my salon. Like a client. I began to act according to the worked out scheme: shower, coffee, tea - and forward. But he refused sex. We just chatted. How could I miss such a man?

Alexei was ten years older than his beloved. During their romantic relationship, Erica had not yet managed to become a full-fledged woman. Before the last, most important operation, she had a little less than a year.

Of course, we planned to sign, play a wedding. Everyone was waiting for me to get my passport. We didn’t wait, - the interlocutor sighs. - We both had a very difficult character to stay together. Jealousy just consumed us. Constant fights, scandals exhausted us. When we quarreled again, I packed my things and left. We still sometimes meet, make love, but we don’t think about living together.

Erika is now in a state of love again. But from family peace runs like fire.

Let me enjoy your beauty! she laughs. I've been waiting for this transformation for so many years! I love to walk the streets and catch the enthusiastic glances of men. In addition, now in my life there are enough young people who spoil me with expensive toys. They give gold jewelry with diamonds - I do not recognize other stones, fur coats. In the future, like any normal woman, I dream of a faithful husband and children. I hope by then I will have calmed down, melted into the crowd. I will find a surrogate mother who will give birth to three children for me. Two girls and a boy. I will raise the guy to be a real man. If suddenly he is born with the same problems as mine, I will not worry. If nature is wrong, then it must be so. But I won't let him suffer. I will give all the money for his operation so that he does not try to commit suicide. And I will definitely tell the children about my life. I want to be completely honest. After all, I have not yet hidden my past from any man. Although some of them were shocked by my revelations, to put it mildly.

It took Erika twenty-five years to become a woman. At the end of this week, she flies to Nalchik for a new passport. Now a bold dot will be placed on her gender.

At the airport I will tie a scarf, put on a modest dress, so as not to injure my ancestors again, - smiles Erika. - It used to be in Nalchik that I calmly voted on the highway with bare shoulders. There was a fool. Once I almost got raped. Barely fought back. Perhaps the only thing that remained masculine in me is strength. For example, if I am hurt, I, without hesitation, pounce on the offender with my fists. How many women have I killed in my lifetime! I hate it when people gossip behind my back. These people need to be put in their place. In general, I don’t get along with ordinary girls even in civilian life. They think in a primitive way. They are boring and uninteresting. Also, they are too jealous. By the way, as a boy, I never fought. I was tender, fragile, vulnerable... But now my true nature has come out.

Erica, when this material comes out, you may already be in Nalchik. How will your parents react to your revelations? I mean your story about working in an intimate salon.

My parents never asked where my money came from. And I'm afraid of this question. Well, if they ask about the article, I'll excuse myself. I’ll lie that all this is not true, the journalists themselves came up with it. I will never be able to admit to close people that for the sake of my salvation I had to go to the panel. I am a hairdresser by profession. But by profession she did not work a day. Now I dance in show ballet. In general, I want to change the circle of communication.

You know how tired this b…stvo. Every new acquaintance strives to drag me into bed. They say that sexual energy is rushing out of me. Here we often think with girlfriends: “How I want to work in an ordinary office. To leave home at eight in the morning, return at six in the evening. One day off a week... Although then we understand: we will not last long ...

Just don’t think that if I changed sex, then I abandoned my faith, ”Erica said in parting. - I'm still a Muslim. And I'm not going to break with my past. My homeland is Nalchik, my people are Kabardians. And I will never renounce my roots.

REFERENCE "MK"

“TRANSSEXUALISM is a discrepancy between a person's sexual self-awareness and his genetic and gonadal sex. Every five thousandth child in the world is born with a diagnosis of transsexualism. The diagnosis is officially included in the International Classification of Diseases, Injuries and Causes of Death. In the USSR, this disease was practically not studied and was not presented in the professional literature. Attempts to interpret the pathogenesis of transsexualism from purely psychiatric positions have now been finally abandoned.

“Transsexualism can only be cured by changing sex. The operation is able to bring the patient's inner world into harmony with his body. Before surgery, a transsexual must go through a special commission consisting of psychologists, sexologists and psychiatrists.”