1. We're Expecting!

**Author's note:**Whilst this story is fictionalised, the first few chapters are based on the real-life experiences of an honest-to-goodness, actual, transgender man (if you're not familiar with the terminology: a transgender man is a person who was born apparently female, but has a male brain and may need a sex change to become comfortable in his own skin).  
This lends a certain authenticity to the story as you are reading about real-life experiences retold through the medium of fan fiction. Because these early chapters are based on a real person, and because trans people have a very high risk of doing something stupid due to bullying... please, no flames. If you aren't okay with trans people, this isn't the story for you.

- \\/,-

"Well? What did the doctor say?".

"George… I hope you're sitting down. I'm pregnant!" said Winona.

"Alright!" crowed George. "A little brother or sister for Georgie! Do you know what it is yet?"

"No… I want to keep it a surprise. But I really hope it's a little girl. We've got our boy, now I'd like a girl to complete our family."

"But Winnie… you know that girls don't run in my family. I'm the fifth generation of Kirks with no female children; it's not likely we'll have a daughter".

Winona sighed. "I know, George. But I'd love to have one anyway. I've always wanted a cute little girl that I can dress up in pretty dresses, and I want to pass on everything I've learned about being a woman. It would be a shame if I couldn't do that".

George laughed. "Well, we'll find out soon enough I guess. We'll need to come up with a name for him or her."

Winona pouted. "It does feel like another boy, but I've decided it's going to be a girl, because I said so." She stuck out her tongue, to George's delight. "But you're probably right. Your family just doesn't do girls. We need to face facts: this is going to be yet another Kirk boy in the very long line of Kirk boys. So let's follow family tradition and name him after his grandfathers."

"Tiberius?! That's the _worst_ name!" said George.

"Yeah, it's not great - but it'd make a respectable second name. So how about 'James Tiberius'? If I don't get the girl I want, that is." Winona smiled.


	2. Six Months Later

"George, I can't do this without you!

George could hear his newborn baby's cry over the comm. Desperately trying to keep his mind off what he had to do, George asked: "What is it?".

"Oh my god, George - It's a girl!" cried Winona.

"A girl? Just like you always wanted! Tell me about her."

"She's beautiful! George, you should be here."

"What are we going to call her? She probably won't like 'James Tiberius' much" he laughed. Laughter was vital. Anything to distract him from the reality that he'd just set a collision course for the rogue ship.

Winona searched frantically for a quick answer. She knew time was short. "Why don't we name her after our mothers instead?" she suggested.

"That's a great idea, honey. Cynthia Ann Kirk it is. Sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"I can hear."

"I love you so much. I love you…"

The comm suddenly turned to static. A bright flash outside the medical shuttle's window was all the confirmation Winona needed that she was alone in the world. Alone, with two young children to raise. She cried until she had no tears left to shed.


	3. Young Cynthia

Cynthia Kirk turned out to be a gorgeous, playful, spunky little girl. She was everything Winona had dreamed of. She had bright blue eyes, curly blonde hair, and the most dazzling smile to go with them. Winona loved dressing her daughter up in frilly, pretty dresses because she looked like a living doll.

Even though she looked like a little cutie, her behaviour surprised her mother somewhat. Winona had expected little Cynnie to be a sweet, demure, docile little girl… but she was _anything_ but. Cynnie definitely had a mind of her own. Her independent nature and her insistence on doing everything for herself was not quite what Winona had expected in such a cute little girl. By the time Cynnie was 18 months old, Winona had figured out that she'd never do as she was told. By the time Cynnie was 2, she proved her independence in a spectacular - and frightening - way.

Winona was cleaning out the spare bedroom in the Kirk farmhouse, preparing it for her parents' visit. Georgie and Cynnie were on the landing outside the spare bedroom, playing with their toys while Winona worked nearby. Winona thought they'd be perfectly safe because she'd installed a stair gate at the top of the stairs to prevent any accidents.

Georgie had a bit of a mean streak in him and he suddenly decided it would be hilarious to throw his little sister's toys down the stairs just because he could. But Cynnie was self-sufficient and determined, so instead of running crying to Mommy, she decided to climb over the stair gate and fetch her toys for herself. Winona had no idea anything was wrong until she heard the sickening thuds of a toddler falling down the stairs, followed by blood-curdling screams.

The EMTs rushed little Cynnie to hospital. Winona was besides herself with fear, terrified that her little girl was seriously injured. Cynnie was kept in hospital overnight for observation, to make sure she didn't suffer any head injuries. Fortunately, the medics could find nothing wrong apart from a bit of bruising, so Cynnie was sent home with a clean bill of health. Winona realised that her gung-ho daughter would need to be watched much more carefully in future. Surely little girls weren't meant to be so… _lively?_


	4. But I'm Really A Boy!

Five-year-old Cynnie was flourishing in Kindergarten. She was bright, curious and intuitive, and was never afraid to play outdoors with the other children. She'd always played with her brother and his friends on the farm, but Kindergarten was different. For the first time in her life, children were being separated into 'boys' and 'girls' (whatever that meant) so that they could play gender-appropriate games, and she was quite naturally placed in the 'girls' category and told to play with the other girls.

The problem was: she soon realised that girls played differently to her, and she had no idea of how to do what they did. Girls were lovely, no question - but they were a weird, alien species and Cynnie didn't know how to relate to them. Girls played with each other in very strange ways. Everything they did seemed to be about talking and relationships, and poor Cynnie had no idea how to do what they were doing. She wanted to play with _objects;_ building, climbing, running, making, exploring… but the girls wanted to play 'pretend' with their toys, pretending that each toy was a member of a family and imitating the social relationships around them. It was very puzzling to Cynnie - it seemed really weird to her that everyone should think that she was like these girls, but it became obvious that she was expected to be like them. Everyone was telling her that she was a girl, so she _must've_ be a girl and she was supposed to be able to figure out how to do girly things, wasn't she?

But no matter how she tried, she just couldn't figure it out. As Cynnie headed towards her sixth birthday, she realised to her growing horror that the grown-ups around her were grouping her with the wrong people. She realised that she was much more comfortable playing with the boys with their rough-and-tumble games; and that girls' social play was boring, alien and downright perplexing to her. She needed to fix this. She needed to stop the grown-ups from forcing her to play with the wrong kids. So she went to her mother for help.

"What do you mean, you're really a boy?" asked Winona. It was hard for her to understand why her gorgeous little girl, who just a couple of months ago had been perfectly content to wear the pretty dresses she'd bought for her, would suddenly refuse to wear anything but her brother's hand-me-downs.

"I mean I know I'm a boy and I want you to call me by a boy's name. I don't like that yucky girl's name you call me. I want you to call me Bob!" cried Cynnie, tears of frustration streaking down her cheeks.

"Don't be ridiculous!" yelled Winona. "Look at yourself - you're obviously a girl! You have girl parts so that means you're a girl! You don't know what you're talking about."

"But Mommy, I don't know _how_ to be a girl! Girls are weird and they talk funny. I don't like playing with them. I want to play with cars and guns and build forts and stuff. I don't want to play 'pretend' and 'dress-up' like those silly girls!".

"Shut up!" said Winona. "You're wrong. Just wrong! I don't get you. You're a girl and that's all there is to it. You just need to get on with it and learn how to be a proper little girl. Just like God made you!"

Cynnie cried herself to sleep that night. Why couldn't Mommy understand? Why did Mommy yell at her for telling the truth? Could it be that Cynnie really _was_ wrong about herself? She was just a little kid: maybe her Mommy was right? Mommy must know best, right?

She realised she had no choice. If Mommy wasn't going to help her… indeed, if Mommy was going to shout at her and _punish_ her for saying that she's really a boy, Cynnie couldn't _dare_ risk telling anyone else. She'd have to keep that secret locked tightly inside, and try to figure out how to be a girl. She was very clever. She'd figure out a way to be a girl. She _had_ to.

* * *

**A/N:** The more astute amongst you will notice the beginning of a real-life trend amongst transgender people in this chapter: whenever we refer to ourselves as children, most of us never say things like 'when I was a boy' or 'when I was a girl'. Instead, we tend to use gender-neutral terms such as 'when I was a kid'. Cynnie was never really a girl, and she wasn't allowed to be a boy - so thinking of herself as either a 'boy' or 'girl' doesn't really fit.


	5. Of Traitorous Brothers

"Hi! I'm Bob" said Cynnie. "You new to the neighbourhood?"

"Yeah, we've just moved in to the old Weaver farm."

"Cool! You wanna play?"

"Sure!"

Seven-year-old Cynnie had pretty much run out of friends. Her best friend since Kindergarten - Larry - had abandoned her in 1st Grade after the other boys in his class started pushing him around and asking him "What are you doing playing with that _girl?_". She couldn't socialise with the girls in her class and the other boys were under the same social pressure as Larry, so she didn't have much opportunity to play with anyone apart from Georgie and his friends. So when a new family moved into the neighbourhood and had two boys around her age, she'd gone over to introduce herself as 'Bob' and tried to pass herself off as a boy. She'd pretty much figured out that this was the only way she could get boys to play with her. No boy wanted to play with a yucky girl. Girls have got _cooties!_

Cynnie spent a couple of hours playing 'Cowboys & Indians' with her new friends. It was getting late and she needed to head home soon, but she was having so much fun that she stayed out later than she should have.

Winona was getting worried about her daughter, so she sent Georgie out looking for her. Georgie found Cynnie playing with the new kids on the farm behind theirs.

"There you are!" cried Georgie. "Come along, Cynnie - you're supposed to be home already and Mommy's getting worried".

Cynnie's new friends blinked in surprise and looked at each other. They turned to her. "Why did he call you 'Cynnie'?" they asked.

Cynnie blushed furiously and thought _"Damn you Georgie! Just when I've made some new friends, you had to go and ruin everything!"._

"Uhhh… it's just a nickname." she explained. "He calls me that all the time. Coming, Georgie!" she called, rushing to get away before they could ask any more awkward questions.

Confused and suspicious, one of Cynnie's new friends went up to Georgie to get to the truth of the matter. He pointed at Cynnie and asked whether 'he' would be able to come out again tomorrow.

Georgie looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "You do realise this is my _sister,_ don't you?" he answered. "Come on Cynnie".

Needless to say, Cynnie lost another two friends that day. Two friends she desperately needed to keep.

* * *

**A/N:** Only a few more short chapters about Jim's childhood to go before we head to Starfleet Academy.


	6. Of Traitorous Mothers

"You'll have to put on a T-shirt. You won't be able to go topless ever again." said Winona.

Cyn was 10 years old and had just started sprouting breasts. Bee stings. A fricken _dairy section,_ of all things.

For as long as she could remember, Cyn had loved running around without a shirt on, just like George did. She especially loved swimming in their pool wearing her dark-blue bikini. Well, to be precise, she'd loved wearing _half_ of her bikini. The top part of the bikini was pretty much a bra, which meant it was just too girly and lame to even be dealt with. After all, only _girls_ wore bras. But the bottom part? Well, worn on its own, it looked like her brother's Speedo. So Cyn had spent years swimming in just her bikini bottoms so she could look more like her brother. It made her feel better and more comfortable because she didn't have to worry about what she looked like. Just like all the other boys.

But now that her traitorous body had decided to sprout decidedly female breasts and hips, it was becoming more & more difficult for her to pretend she was a boy. Nobody would believe that someone with breasts and wide hips was a boy, would they? And now this final insult: she'd have to cover up her chest. _Permanently._ Never again would she be able to run around the farm barefoot, topless and carefree, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. No, from now on she was becoming a _woman_ - and women are expected to hide parts of their bodies away from public view.

So she wore the damn bikini top. But because she couldn't stand seeing her developing chest, she decided to wear a T-shirt over it too. Out of sight, out of mind.

-\\/,-

"Your school called again today. They said you left your swimming costume at home and had to miss your swimming lesson because you had your period… for the third time this month. _Nobody_ has three periods in one month, Cyn. What gives?"

Cyn sat down dejectedly on the sofa. _"Here we go again."_ she thought. They'd been through this subject so many times before and every single time had ended badly. How bad was it going to be _this_ time?

"Mom, our school is very strict about about what we wear." she started.

"Yeah, so what?" answered Winona.

"Well, their rule for our swimming lessons is that the girls have to wear a one-piece swimming costume." Cyn hated the way that one-piece emphasised her hips and showed off her cleavage. It made her look so... _female._ "You know I like to swim in my bikini with a T-shirt over it, but I'm not allowed to do that at school."

"Cyn, those rules are there for a reason. They instil discipline and they help you figure out your place in society. You of all people should know how important that is."

Cyn looked down at her feet, stung by her mother's words. "I of all people." she said. Clearly it was time for them to tackle the elephant in the room again.

"Mom, I told my teacher that I'm very uncomfortable with my body and I asked whether I could wear a T-shirt over my swimming costume. But she wouldn't let me." It's not like Cyn could explain exactly _why_ she was so uncomfortable with her body. After all, every time she'd tried to tell a grown-up that she was really a boy, they'd criticised her, laughed at her or even punished her. And if you are repeatedly punished for saying the same thing, you eventually learn that it's easier to just keep your big mouth shut.

"Last month, one of the other kids told the teacher that she had her period and the teacher let her sit out the lesson. I figured that if I said the same thing, I wouldn't have to be seen in that swimming costume."

"That's just ridiculous!" cried Winona. "Cyn, _lots_ of girls are uncomfortable about their bodies, but there's nothing wrong with yours! You've got a _great_ figure - you should be proud to show it off!".

"But Mom, that's the problem! I hate my body because it's a _girl's_ body! How many times have I told you that I'm really a _boy_ inside? I don't want people to see me with these disgusting breasts and hips!". Cyn started sobbing. "How can I make you understand? I can't stand anyone seeing me like this!"

Winona stood with her hands on her hips, regarding her troublesome daughter. Cyn had been repeating this nonsense about being a boy for about five years now. Surely she'd grow out of her tomboy phase soon enough? Maybe what she needed was a shock to the system.

"You know what?" said Winona. "When I was expecting you, I was convinced you _were_ going to be a boy. I don't know how... I just had a feeling that I was carrying another son. We were so convinced that your Dad and I even picked out a boy's name for you. We were going to name you 'James Tiberius', after your grandfathers. But you were born a girl, and you _are_ a girl. You'll just have to grow out of this stupid tomboy phase. I agree with your teachers. I'm going to talk to them tomorrow and I'm going to make sure you take your swimming costume in with you every single week from now on!"

Cyn ran to her room, crying hysterically. It was so _unfair._ Why should she have to feel so desperately awful about her perfectly healthy body? Why wouldn't anybody _listen_ to her?

Then again... 'James Tiberius Kirk'. She _really_ liked the sound of that. It sounded more distinguished than 'Bob', at any rate.

* * *

**A/N:** That was a _very_ tough chapter to write. I still tend to burst into tears several decades later when I think about that school and how my teachers made me feel - so when Cyn started crying, so did I. The reality was even worse than the dramatisation written above.


	7. Somebody Else's Body

"But _Mom_ - I haven't been invited to any other parties this year. All the cool kids are going to Josh's party and it's my first party in Middle School. Please - I really want to go!"

"Well then, you'll have to wear that nice dress I bought you!" replied Winona.

"Oh Mom! I really, _really_ don't want to wear a dress. You know how much I hate them. Can't I please go wearing my normal clothes, but smartly dressed?" begged Cyn.

"Cynthia Ann Kirk! You _know_ the rules. You're not allowed to go to any parties in anything other than a dress."

"But Mooooom... I can't stand dresses. They make me feel so bad. Please, don't make me wear one!"

"That's enough, young lady! You have two choices: either you wear the dress and go to the party, or you stay home. You choose."

Cyn didn't go to that party. No matter how much she desperately wanted to socialise with her friends, she just couldn't cope with being forced to wear a dress again.

-\\/,-

Cyn looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. _Ugh,_ how on Earth could this be right? Look at those disgustingly wide hips. Those... _things..._ on her chest.

_"Those aren't mine."_ she thought to herself. _"They can't be. That's not _me._ That's somebody else's body. A _girl's_ body. It's all wrong. It's so unfair!" _

And now the latest insult had been added to injury. That afternoon, whilst relaxing on her bed after school, her stomach had started to ache. She ran to the bathroom to deal with the problem... only to find her underwear was stained red. She hadn't hurt herself, so it could only mean one thing.

She'd sat on the toilet for 20 minutes, crying in despair.

Cyn cleaned herself up and put on her baggy jogging pants. And her brother's large, oversized T-shirt. _There._ That's a bit better. Now nobody could see those disgusting curves any more.

* * *

**A/N:** My family photo album contains quite a few pictures of a miserable girl with her hair done up nicely, wearing a party dress. My mother would insist that I could only attend parties if I wore a dress and let her do my hair, so I had to put up with it until I just couldn't stand it any more.

Next chapter: Jim realises he's trans. There is light at the end of the angsty tunnel. It gets better. :-)


	8. Realisations

**A/N**: Ever wondered why Jim took so long between graduating High School and signing up for Starfleet Academy? Here's why...

* * *

18-year-old Cynthia Kirk was stuck in a rut. Big time.

She'd graduated High School a year ahead of schedule with outstanding grades. But her discomfort within her own skin had become more serious with each passing year, leading to her feeling severely depressed. Since graduation she'd pretty much sat on her backside, unable to find the motivation to move forward with her life.

Her mother had been nagging her to do something useful with her life: go to college, get a job, sign up for Starfleet, _anything._ But Cyn's get-up-and-go seemed to have got up & went, so she spent her days playing games online and reading fantasy novels. Both of these activities gave her some escapism from the day-to-day hell of her life. Because whilst playing games and reading fantasy, she could picture herself as the male hero of the piece. She could picture herself as being a tall, strong, muscular, authoritative _man._ Just as she knew she should be.

The only times she'd venture out of the house would be to go drinking in Riverside. But the depression she suffered due to having spent the last 13 years simply existing rather than being able to enjoy life meant that many of those nights out would end in fights. Some idiot would make a disparaging comment about her boyish haircut or her androgynous clothing. Some other jerk would call her a 'dyke'. In the restroom, girls would call her a dork for not wearing make-up. Naturally, these comments hurt her terribly, so she would often be the first one to throw punches. As a result, her only significant achievement since graduating High School was to rack up an impressive list of misdemeanours.

Granted, she had done very well at school - but applying her mind to her work was one of the few things she enjoyed. It was difficult to enjoy anything else when her every interaction with other people reminded her that they saw her as a girl. It was frustrating and heartbreaking to see other boys developing naturally: getting girlfriends, growing muscle, growing in other ways. Big, strong, tall masculine bodies... whilst Cyn was trapped in a small, feminine body. It sucked so badly.

Hmmm. _Trapped._ In the _wrong body._ Now that she thought about it, that was _exactly_ how she'd been feeling since she was little: almost as if her body didn't match her mind. People had been treating her like a girl because that's what her _body_ looked like, but her _mind_ had always told her she was a boy. Cyn had always thought she must be the only person in the world who felt like this because nobody she knew seemed to feel the same way, but she suddenly wondered whether anyone else _had_ ever felt the same way. She fired up her computer and typed into the search engine: 'boy trapped in a girl's body'.

She was stunned. Hundreds of thousands of results were returned, including support sites, videos, medical journals... this was a _thing;_ it really existed. Not only had other people felt the same way... but _thousands_ of other people had felt this too. There was even a word for it: _transgender._ She settled down to watch some of the videos.

By the end of the evening, Cyn was shaking. She'd finally figured out what had been 'wrong' with her her whole life. She wasn't wrong, crazy or evil. It was perfectly clear to her that she was transgender. And even more importantly, thanks to other people bravely sharing their stories online, she'd discovered there was something that could be done to fix it.


	9. The Birth of James T Kirk

**A/N:** I've noticed from my story stats (which are completely anonymous) that I have a couple of readers who live in countries where being LGBT is illegal. I'm humbled that you're reading my story, and I wish you all the very best. No matter how bad Cyn's life seems to be in this tale, at least she has the freedom to improve her life. Some day, you'll have that too. It _does_ get better.

* * *

Cyn now understood that she was transgender and that the only way she could possibly feel comfortable in her own skin would be if she underwent medical treatment to align her body to her gender. There was nothing that could be done to adjust her brain's perception of her gender so the only option was to change her body to match her brain. But there was no way on Earth she'd be able to afford the necessary medication and surgery without a job, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that her mother would never agree to pay for them. She hunted around for alternative options to see if there was some way she could transition without going to major expense.

One of her new-found friends on a transgender support site suggested she contact the Gender Studies Department at the University of Iowa's Carver College of Medicine. Apparently they'd announced an upcoming ground-breaking study into using gene therapy to grow reproductive organs for transsexual patients - and they were looking for new test subjects in exchange for scholarships to attend the University. That was _perfect:_ Carver was only about 25km north of the Kirk farm in Riverside so she could easily get there via public transport. After several clandestine meetings with the Gender Studies team - and without telling her mother why she'd had a sudden change of heart - Cyn applied to take part in the study.

The first step was for Cyn to be assessed by a qualified Gender Therapist: a specialist psychotherapist who had been trained to help people who felt the gender of their mind didn't match the physical features of their body. The therapist met with her several times, asking her about her childhood, her dreams, how she saw herself and what she envisaged for her future. Her answers confirmed that she was transgender, so the therapist gave her a formal diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria: the medical name for that awful discomfort she'd felt for most of her life. With that diagnosis (and thanks to her outstanding school results), Cyn was accepted into the gene therapy study at Carver and was awarded a full scholarship to study the subject of her choice. She decided to major in Computer Science as she'd always found comfort in working with machines rather than people. At least machines didn't insist on treating her like a girl.

The Gender Therapist then spent several months working with Cyn to help her decide what she wanted to do with her life. It was clear that Cyn was a man who felt very uncomfortable living in a female body and being treated like a female by society. It was equally clear that the best way forward would be for Cyn to transition from female to male. After explaining all the risks and benefits, the therapist offered to prescribe testosterone to start the masculinising process, to be followed by gene therapy to adjust Cyn's reproductive organs. But before he would give her any prescriptions, he challenged Cyn to change her name and start dressing and living exclusively as a male. He called it 'drawing a line in the sand': taking formal, public steps to declare her intentions to transition as a way of proving that she was serious about doing so.

Cyn hunted high & low for an appropriate name. Baby name books, movie characters, historical figures, book characters... even computer game characters were considered, but nothing seemed to fit. But then she remembered that conversation back when she was 10 years old: Mom had once said that she'd felt that her second child would be another boy and that she'd name that son after his grandfathers. That seemed to fit beautifully. Changing her name to the one that was originally supposed to be hers if her body had matched her mind seemed like the _perfect_ way to put right what went wrong when that poor innocent baby had been misgendered at birth. So on that night, Cyn decided to throw away any last remaining vestiges of the femininity she'd been forced to fake for so many years. She decided to change her name... and start becoming a man.

From that day forth, Cynthia Ann Kirk was no more... and James Tiberius Kirk took her place.

* * *

**A/N:** Any chance the University of Iowa - or any other august body - could pull their fingers out and get on with that (fictional) research I mentioned? Being able to grow a functioning set of reproductive organs would mean so much to so many people - not just transsexuals. Thanks.

Next chapter: how will Winona react to the news that she no longer has a daughter? Oh, and we drop all those pesky female pronouns. ;-)


	10. Coming Out

**A/N:** You'll notice that the pronouns change in this chapter. It is considered respectful to change the pronouns as soon as someone you already know tells you they're transgender. If you're not sure which pronouns they prefer, please feel free to ask. _Politely._ :-)

* * *

James - or Jim, as he preferred to call himself - fidgeted nervously while he waited for his mother to get home from her latest assignment on the _U.S.S. Feynman,_ which had lasted for the previous twelve weeks. With both his mother and brother out of the house, Jim had had an ideal opportunity to put his plans in motion without any interference.

Jim had taken advantage of having the entire farm to himself to start the early stages of his transition from female to male. He legally changed his name and title in front of a judge; started at college under his new name; started binding his breasts with a specially designed undergarment to make his chest appear flat; dressed exclusively in male clothing; and cut his hair into a fashionably short style. He'd decided to go 'stealth' at college: he wanted to start afresh in this new environment because he wanted to see what it would feel like if the people around him didn't know he'd ever been female. He introduced himself as 'Jim' and told everyone he was just an ordinary guy like any other. Luckily he didn't bump into many people from Riverside who had known him as Cynthia. Slowly but surely, he started feeling a bit better about himself with each adjustment he made to his life.

But he was having trouble figuring out how to break the news to his mother. He knew it had to be done face-to-face: she deserved better than to be told via subspace that her only daughter had become her second son. Winona had always been so negative, so critical whenever he'd identified himself as male. He was determined that he had to go ahead with his transition, but that didn't stop him being apprehensive about his mother's reaction. He was due to start testosterone therapy in two weeks' time and she would _definitely_ notice the changes once that took effect. He'd just have to man up and face the music.

- \\/, -

The door opened and Winona walked into the house. "Honey, I'm hooome!" she called, as she always did. Jim gulped and sat waiting for her to enter the living room.

"Hi Mom. Surprise." he said quietly.

"What. The. HELL have you done to yourself?!" yelled Winona. "What are you wearing? What has happened to your hair?!"

"Mom, I need you to sit down. There's something important I need to tell you."

Winona plopped herself down on the sofa. "This had better be good" she warned.

"Mom, you know how I've been telling you for years that I'm really a boy?"

"Oh no, don't you _dare_ start that again! You used to talk about that nonsense when you were a little girl, but you were just going through a tomboy phase. You should've outgrown that childishness by now!"

"No Mom... it wasn't a phase and I haven't outgrown it - I don't think I ever will. The only reason why I haven't mentioned it for years is because you used to used to punish me for telling you! Just because I'd stopped _saying_ it, doesn't mean I ever stopped _feeling_ it. Mom, I really _am_ a boy, and I've decided I need to have a sex change."

"A _sex change!?_ Don't be stupid. I'm not going to let you cut off parts of your body just because you don't like to wear dresses! Anyway, how could you possibly know all of this? You must be making it all up."

"Mom... while you were on the _Feynman,_ I have been seeing some specialist doctors and they've diagnosed me with something called 'Gender Dysphoria'. I'm not making it up, Mom - I'm _transgender._ The doctors scanned my brain and their tests prove that I have a typical male brain, even though my body is female. _That's_ why I've been so uncomfortable all my life. My brain has always thought that it is male but everyone treats me like I'm female because of what I look like. How could anyone possibly be comfortable living like that?!"

"That's nonsense - there's no such thing! It isn't possible to have a male brain with a female body. Look... you have two X chromosomes, for god's sake. You couldn't possibly be anything _but_ female!"

"Mom, it's _perfectly_ possible and the doctors have explained it all to me. Their tests show that my brain must've been exposed to high levels of testosterone at an early stage of your pregnancy. My brain responded to that testosterone by forming into a masculine brain. I can't help that. It's not my fault and there's nothing I can do to change it. It's a totally normal phenomenon and I'm just one of the many people who were born this way."

"Don't be ridiculous. You _are_ a girl, Cyn - you'll _always_ be a girl. Those doctors must be putting ideas into your head!"

"Not any more, Mom. In fact, I never was a girl in the first place. For as long as I can remember, I've known that I was supposed to be a boy. You _know_ this, Mom. And my name isn't Cynthia any more - I went to court last week to change it."

"What?! You can't do that!"

"Yes Mom, I _can_ do that. I'm 18 now and legally an adult. Don't you want to know what I've named myself?"

"Not particular-"

"James Tiberius Kirk. Mom, I went with the name you and Dad had originally picked out for me. Remember? You told me when I was little that you would've named me after my grandfathers if I'd been born a boy. Well, I _was_ born a boy - in mind if not in body."

"Wait a minute... if you're such a 'boy'," Winona wiggled her fingers to indicate quotation marks, "why did you try wearing make-up? Why did you go through that Goth phase? Why have you had _boyfriends?_"

Jim stood up, his fists balled at his sides in frustration. "I tried make-up and girls' clothes to see whether I could feel comfortable with being female! Don't you get it? You've been telling me all my life that I'm supposed to be a girl, so I tried everything I could to see if I could figure out how to do that! I tried_ so hard,_ Mom. I really did. But none of it fit. Trying make-up and wearing girls' clothes? Those were _phases._ Being a guy is my _life._ And as for my boyfriends - well, I think you can figure that one out for yourself, can't you?"

Winona started crying. "This is all Nero's fault." she said. "You would never have turned out this way if your father had been around to raise you."


	11. Manning Up

**A/N:** Apologies for the delay in updating this story. My own transition is taking up a lot of my time IRL, but I will keep updating this as often as I can.

* * *

"What can I get for you, Ma'am?" asked the barista.

Jim gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes skyward. _"Not this again!"_ he thought.

Whilst Jim had made every effort he could to fit into his new role as a young man, there was only so much that could be done without medical intervention. His therapist had insisted that he had to enter a period of 'Real Life Experience' before any medical treatment could be prescribed. That meant that he had to try to live as a man whilst still looking and sounding like a woman. It was almost impossible to achieve and he found himself being misgendered almost every day.

Despite having changed his name, cut his hair in to a short men's style, wearing only men's clothing and flattening his breasts with a specially-made vest, he still looked and sounded too feminine for his liking. Without testosterone, he still had soft skin, feminine features and a high-pitched voice. It didn't seem to matter what he did: people would instantly read him as female. Every single time they did it felt was like a slap in the face. He desperately hoped that testosterone would make him look more convincing so that people would accept him as being male.

"Actually, it's 'Sir'" he corrected.

The barista laughed at him. "No, it isn't!" she replied. _"You_ are definitely a _woman!"_

How _dare_ she? How dare she decide for herself whether some random stranger is a man or a woman? Jim pulled out his college ID. "Look here... my name is James. James! Does that sound like a woman's name to you?" he challenged. "See the little 'M' here, under where it says 'Gender'? Do you have any idea what the 'M' stands for?"

The barista looked affronted. "Well, you sure do _look_ like a woman." she replied.

"Yeah, well I have a hormonal problem that makes me look and sound like a pre-pubescent boy. But I'm getting treatment for it and it doesn't make me feel any better when people like you insist on calling me a woman!"

Jim stormed out of the coffee shop, vowing never to go back there again.

- \\/, -

Jim sat in the Endocrinologist's waiting room, his right knee bouncing up and down with nervousness. He'd had all of the blood tests and had been approved for testosterone therapy: now he would finally be prescribed his very first dose.

His name flashed up on the waiting room message board: "MR JAMES KIRK". Wow, he didn't think he'd _ever _get tired of seeing those words, especially when preceded by the title 'Mr'. His heart swelled in his chest every time he saw his name and knew that it actually referred to _him._ It was so much more comfortable than that horrible old girly name he had been forced to answer to for so many years. 'Cynthia' had never been a part of him: he never felt like it described him in any way. It was just a convenient word that everyone else had used when they wanted to get his attention. Heck, they might as well have called him 'hey you' for the amount that his birth name meant to him. He was glad to see the back of it. Jim took a deep breath, stood up, and went in to see the Endocrinologist.

The Endo ran a few more tests on Jim to confirm that none of his readings had changed since his previous appointment, and he then handed Jim a prescription for testosterone supplements. Jim would have to hypo himself once every week with a slow-release form of testosterone which would maintain steady levels in his bloodstream. He figured that would be fine: he'd never had a problem with hypos before so it should be a piece of cake. And if it helped him 'pass' better in public, he was all for it.

The nurse showed him how to load and operate the hypo: he had to measure his dose into the hypospray, then hold it up to his neck before pushing the trigger to release his medication. Testosterone is a thick substance, so it stung really badly going in - far worse than he'd imagined. But he would cope with a bit of short-term pain if these regular shots of 'T' would finally get people to start treating him appropriately. And if these hypos would leave him looking like he was sporting a permanent hickey, that could only add to his growing reputation on campus.

- \\/, -

Jim was astounded by how quickly and convincingly his body began to change. He'd decided to keep a monthly record of his voice and his physical changes so that he could track his progress: after just 10 months on testosterone, his voice had dropped to a mellow baritone and he was sprouting some light facial and bodily hair. His fat distribution had changed too, making his hips appear slimmer and more masculine. He found that he could handle increasingly heavy weights at the gym which lead to him developing a decent set of guns. His laterals had started to form into a pleasing V-shape. All-in-all, he was starting to look a lot more masculine, provided he took care to bind his breasts. And best of all: his dreaded monthly visitor stopped coming round after the first three months on 'T'.

For the first time in many years, he was actually pleased with what he saw in the mirror. For the past 14 years he'd carefully avoided his reflection whenever possible; he'd only check himself out very fleetingly to try to ensure his curves didn't look too obvious. But now he could look at himself properly in the mirror because a _man_ was starting to take form right in front of his eyes. As long as he had his breasts tightly bound, he was starting to look pretty darn good. He decided to go out for a coffee to celebrate his new-found happiness with his outward appearance.

"What can I get for you, Sir?" asked the barista.

Jim grinned to himself. His life was finally moving in the right direction.


End file.
