Growing a Part (1)

It’s a pun. Also, a re-write of a previous draft on another site. #Transgender, #HeroComplex, #OrigenStory, #AttemptedRape

I didn’t realize it at first, because I was too little. I even forgot about it for years, until my sister kicked me out, and I got my own room. She was going through puberty, and all a sudden wanted privacy. So, mom, and dad cleaned out the spare room, and had a yard sale to get rid of some of the old stuff.

They couldn’t sell most of it, especially the old TV, which was small, but still had a VCR, and DVD player built in. So, I got it, and also the box of videos that they didn’t sell. Mostly to old people in the neighborhood, that still used VCRs, and DVD players. They probably had ones of there own, so they just bought the movies they wanted, but there was this one box they didn’t even get out.

They left it forgotten way up on the top shelf of my closet, so I had to stack up some milk crates to reach it, but that had some tapes, and videos in it too. That’s not all, there was also these weird clothes, and a little bench, but I watched the step aerobics video first, and that told me all about what it was for. She kept the step, and even the old exercise clothes that went with it.

I thought they were for some kind of superhero costume, or something, at first. It was just a leotard, and tights, with leg warmers, and heavy weights for her wrists. They were in these bright neon colors, like the 80s, but did they even have VCRs in the 80s? I guess so, because Jane Fonda is really old now, and she made one of them, only without the steps in it.

I had fun playing with those for a while, because there was a lot of them, and who would have guessed that mom was such a health nut back in the day? So anyways, I finally got my own clothes, to work out in. Mommy got them for me, the leotard was for Dance, and I took some classes in that. I didn’t really know what I wanted to be, so daddy payed for all kinds of classes to try.

Modeling, different kinds of dance, even singing, and acting so I could pretend to be a Hollywood star with my friends. Girl friends, but not like Girlfriends, I wasn’t really interested in dating yet, and I never really got the whole romance thing. “So what? They watched the sun set together.” I shrugged, then struck what I thought was a girly pose, blinking to flutter my eye lids, without fake eye-lashes, mascara, or even eye liner. I sighed, and made fun of that breathless girly voice. “Long walks on the beach.”

They giggled, and joked about, well dirty stuff. We’re having a sleepover, and for the first time, I could remember, they started talking about boys. Which ones they thought were cute, what kind of man they’d grow into, or they’d like to marry, and have a lot of kids.

“Ew!” I shook my head. “You know what that does to your body?”

They all pretty much agreed that I was the only one that was “Obsessed with Fitness.” So, I grabbed my weights, and got them to help me put them on, because they’re velcro, and kinda hard to do up with 1 hand. Especially the left one, because I’m not right handed, but if I had something like a table, I could lay it out, and kinda roll it on. Shaking, and twisting them to get the pouches of lead beads to sit right. I power walked off, but we met up at the park, before I could finish getting ready for my workout.

Oh yeah, and I kinda got into some hormones. My uncle, well great uncle. My Grandma’s brother, on my dad’s side, he was taking stuff for old age, like Viagra, but he also had this Androgel, he rolled on like a deodorant. Under his arms, but then I read the label, and it was Testosterone, with some other stuff to help it soak in. Mono-olein, AKA “Oil of Olay” and Azone, but I won’t bore you with the biochemistry.

All I knew was that I could rub it on my arms, and legs, because it was like Steroids, only the exact opposite. Steroids are like Testosterone, that’s why they’re called “Steroids.” Back then, we had Health Class, and it was my best subject in middle school, because I was extremely interested in how boys, and girls developed into men, and women, but the other girls (They split us up into 2 classes, so the boys didn’t spend the whole period gawking at the girls with lumps in their shirts) mostly giggled, then talked about naughty, or dirty stuff in the girl’s room, after.

I had no idea, because the whole entire subject of a girl trapped in a man’s body wasn’t really talked about. Then, Chix with Dicks came out, and the boys talked about that, or Randal did, in Clerks. Because he worked at a video store, and I guess watched all the dirty movies from the back room all day, because he was a horny boy, and that’s pretty much all he ever talked about. Of course, there were blue movies, in the bottom of the box. With some old playboys, the little pink weights, aerobics step, and Jane Fonda workout videos. That’s why they hid them, instead of taking them out to the Yard Sale.

At least, that’s the first place I heard about it, but that gave me an idea. Or, at least made me think about where a girl would get a penis. Not a plastic toy one, like a strapon, or a boy’s to play with, groping, and making out with her boyfriend in a back seat, but all of this was stuff I heard of. Normal stuff that just made me feel even more different, because I had no interest in any of it, really.

I guess, I had taken a bit too much of an interest in boy things. Especially growth things, like muscles, and then I started rubbing the androgel in down there. I guess that’s what I was thinking about, power-jogging around the block, because it was a hot day. I drank a lot of extra water, because it was also dry, and even with all I sweated out, it was starting to slosh around in my bladder, but I just held it.

Turned the corner to this alley, where they had concrete stairs to climb back up the hill to the street above, and started skipping steps to the landing. I had thought, that maybe when it got bigger, I’d eventually be able to just unzip my pants, stick it out, and pee, standing up. That was something I was always jealous of boys for. Girls had to line up, and wait, for instance between classes, there was always a line for the toilets, but a boy could just go anywhere. Find a bush, pee, and shake it out before tucking it back in, zipping up, and just be on their way.

The alley stairs were just better then step aerobics, or a stairstepper machine, but I really had to go. So, I stopped at the landing, where it turned to go up around a corner, and back to the street where I started. I had planned on finishing my jog, and then using the lady’s room in the sports store, since there’s never a line for the toilets there. They barely even use it, but no dice.

I found out that my pee-hole isn’t even in my clitoris. So, I wasted all that Androjel on nothing, sure it got bigger, and the little folds got rubbery, with wrinkles where they stuck out, like a ham sandwich, but it was still just something to pee out of. So, I had to drop my biker shorts, all the way down to my cross trainers, and spread my knees, but if I held everything open, and leaned out far enough, I could pee without it running down my legs, or dribbling all over my shoes.

“Huh! Ah!” It was such a relief, I just leaned over with my head stuck in the corner, and breathed loud. Then, I bend down to pull up my biker shorts. You know what I mean, the lycra spandex ones, with a double crotch, so your junk doesn’t stick out like a camel-toe? Not like cutoff shorts, or leather ones, bikers would wear, but exercise ones for riding a mountain bike? I just didn’t have any mountain bike, but I bet I’d get one on my next birthday, if I kept asking for it.

Then, he grabbed me. My leg first, but then his other arm went around my waist, and right between my legs before I could pull my shorts up.

“Dirty little slut, don’t scream, you filth whore, or everyone will know what a bad little girl you are, popping a squat in an alley, and flashing anybody who walks bye…”

I don’t know who he was, by name, but of course, I heard about him. Scared little whispers, like ghost stories told by the girls, but basically, there was a pervert around town. He liked to hurt you, but especially hurt your feelings, from what I heard. He was just a big bully, but a sexual one, so as soon as he started calling me names like dirty little slut, I knew it had to be him.”

“Uh, let me.” I almost said go. “Huh, you don’t have to make me.” Then, I calmed down, and I mean, it was almost scary, how much I relaxed, and started breathing. My heart beating hard, but not fast, I knew I should have been scared, but somehow knowing, exactly who he was, that told me what I had to do.

Play his game, he wants me to be a dirty little slut? Well, he was behind me, and he didn’t have a real good hold on me, but still. I wasn’t going to be able to do anything with my arms stuck in the corner.

“I knew it,” he lowered his voice, “The way you run around, dressed like that, I knew you wanted it, as soon as I saw you.” He was crazy, if he thought that I dressed sexy, and peed in the alley, because I wanted sex. Instead of dressing cool, so the sweat wicked away, and yeah. I guess I was proud of how thick my thighs were, how my butt looked in the tight stretched lycra spandex, but it was all about the definition. The lines, and cables you I could feel flexing under it, that’s why i jogged instead of running, so I could feel it better, but I’m ashamed to admit that I never thought about Him, coming after me before.

Look, I’m flat chested, and I know what boys like. In a word, boobs, tits, funbags, but I didn’t have none. My friends spread rumors about Anorexia, or Bulemia. I thought it was because I burned off the calories, so I didn’t have enough body fat to menstruate, but really, I’d been abusing testosterone for a couplefew years, and it just stunted my growth, in some ways.

I’d started puberty, but I was lucky enough to start the right puberty. Boy puberty, trying to get muscles, and maybe grow out my clit enough to pee out of, until I found out that I had hypospadias. I’m not going to tell you what that is, you can look it up if you’re interested, but all I wanted was to turn around.

“Don’t look at me.” He grabbed the back of my neck, and sank his fingers hard into my gash.

“Uh, nhm!” It hurt, but I couldn’t even shake my head, let alone twist out of his grip, which made me feel weak. Helpless, and small. All the things I hated about myself, growing up a little girl, and all the things I wanted from the boys, I was jealous of. I didn’t want a big strong man to come rescue me, then kiss right before the credits rolled. I wanted to be big and strong like them, but now I was trapped in the corner.

His boner stretching the seat of my shorts into my butt crack felt kinda gay, and he was mumbling something through his teeth about, fucked out? He pinched my rubbery inner labia, and pulled them, hard. “Ow!” It hurt.

“Your stretched out CUNT!” He was hissing so hart, spit sprayed from his teeth. “Fucked out by your daddy, and his friends, huh? You pull trains for your daddy you little whore?”

“No!” I didn’t want to scream, not because of how sexual the position I was in is, but because I felt beaten. Weak, and helpless like a loser, because he grabbed me from behind, but I knew that. He always grabbed them from behind, but then he started trying to pull my shorts down. One handed, while still holding onto the back of my neck, but I managed to turn around.

“Is said don’t look at meahH!” Meanwhile, I managed to feel back, and brush his hairy leg. Reach up to his balls, he shaved his balls, but not his leg, and then I got a good grip on them.

“Let go, you bitch!”

“Uh!” He let go my neck, and punched me in the back of the head, but I held on, and even managed to turn around, before he grabbed my arm, and ripped his ball bag out of my fingers.

“Ah, you cunt!”

“Freak!” I punched him with my free hand, so he let go, and covered up his face, but instead of hitting him again. I sprained my wrist, and broke my pinky knuckle I found out later, because the wrist weights made it even worse, but he brought his knee over to protect his crotch, so I grabbed it. Ducked under his elbows, and rammed my shoulders into his chest. Lifting, and throwing him back, but before he could do anything but elbow me in the back, I let go, and rolled around behind him.

Oh yeah, and ever since people started talking about girls getting assaulted around the middle school, my dad canceled all my other classes, and got me into BJJ. Yeah, ha ha, make all the joke you want to about what that stands for, but this guy obviously never rolled before. He made all the wrong moves, so as soon as my bare butt hit the concrete, I got my arms under his pits, hooked my heels between his legs, and clasped my fingers together behind the neck.

“Huh, asshole!” I yelled triumphantly. “How do you like it, huh?”

“Uh, let me go.” ye tied tapping at my arms, so he knew that much.

“No, scream.”

“What?” he tried to shake his head, but I held on tight.

“I said scream, call for help. I’m not going to let you go until you scream. Come on, you little pussy, scream for me.” Too bad, his hips were too big to heel kick him in the nuts, believe me, I tried, but almost as soon as I got him in the full Nelson, i realized that that took up all my arms, and legs. I couldn’t even bite his ears, or neck to make him scream, but finally, he did what i said.

“AH! SOMEBODY GET THIS BITCH OFF OF ME, HELP!” Real loud, and before long, I heard foot steps running up the stairs from the street. That’s why they couldn’t see me, on the landing, because in the corner, it was blocked by the stairs from the street.

“I got him, this pervert grabbed me, and tried to molest me, but I got him!” Finally, the men grabbed his arms, and legs to hold him down. Got a belt, and tied them around his hands behind them, while somebody ran to call the cops.

“I better go.”

“Wait, don’t you want to report it?” Somebody turned around, and I realized too late that I could’ve just run off without saying anything. Stupid.

“Of course I do, but I’m late, and I have to go. LET ME GO!” I pushed one back, before he could grab me, and slapped another man out of the way, but I guess they thought, I don’t know. I was a victim, and scared, or whatever, but as soon as I got a chance to think, i realized that wasn’t what the matter was.

I didn’t have my Mask. With me, okay I tried making masks, and I found out that sewing isn’t as easy as it’s cracked up to be, but here I was in just black biker shorts, and a tank top. My hair pulled out of the hair tie, and my costume. Pieced together out of an old dance leotard, tights, and shear armlets. Cape, or no cape?

I knew exactly what I wanted to be, and wouldn’t you know, my first chance to fight crime, he caught me on my workout. Unprepared, without my costume.

I didn’t want to report it, as a citizen. I wanted to take credit for it as Ms. Demeaner.

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To Be Continued…

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