I loved the locker rooms. I loved staring at other boys' cocks when they changed into their uniforms or when they showered. Sometimes, I would have my...way with them. I was never called by gay slurs- with one exception. One unlucky punk decided to try calling me that. He got his ass kicked...and then some. It happened in sixth period English class my senior year. Mrs. Nelson was having us read "The Glass Menagerie". That play was the autobiographical story of the early life of Tennessee. But what was done was done. It took a fewreferrals, couple of interviews with a psychiatrist, and a couple ofdays, but finally I was looking up from my bed at the surgeon who wouldtake the wreckage of my male parts and make it female. Vicky and I hadtorn up the raw material considerably in our childish attempt, but hewas able to work wonders with what was left. After a week, I sat up andlooked down at myself. I wondered that what I saw there was essentiallywhat I had seen between Vicky's. More

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