Like how dying patientsin pain hope to never wake up one night. If I'm not careful, I couldwake up happy as a peach that I'm finally all girl top to t...e and Jaywas just a bad dream. So I have to keep reminding myself who I used tobe -- who I really am all the time. In fact, if I concentrate being myreal self enough I could even squash all of Bethanny's girly moves andhabits. I figure that I could still hang on being me -- the real me fora while if I can just keep myself from going along with. Torressounded like a racehorse as he stood pissing like a man, the sound of mytinkle as I sit like a girl. I see myself in the mirror...neither a mannor a woman, I'm me. The sound of my bells tinkle as I continue with mychores.Being put away, mounted to a post in the garage with the brooms andmops...a thing, except I desperately longed for my owner to return...tofind another use for me, to be with her....to worship her. Unlike the mopI was cold, unlike the broom my discomfort grew as each. More

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