Tranford Tales - Arthur

CHAPTER 1

"Heather, isn't it," said the doctor, glancing at her screen.

"Arthur," I said, and she looked at me and her screen in confusion.

For fuck's sake, I've got a moustache!

She scrolled through the notes, and I noticed how young and pretty she was. I rather fancied her. Are you allowed to date your GP?

A definite improvement on Dr McGinty, the useless old buffer! Still, to be fair he had eventually got me on track for 'gender confirmation' as they call it these days.

"I'm so sorry, Arthur! I'm new to the practice, as you know. Sorry, I'm Dr Clarkson, but you can call me Amelia. Nice to meet you."

She put out her hand, and I took it. It felt nice, and her sorry face was so appealing. I definitely fancied her!

She started just confirming the history, then paused.

"Excuse me, Arthur. There's something we need to talk about a bit longer. Are you in a hurry?"

I said no.

"Well, you're the last patient today, but since you're here, maybe you could give me ten minutes, and then we could go to my flat. There's a little bedsit upstairs I'm using temporarily. We can have a coffee and we could get to know each other, so I can help you get what you want. Could you go and tell reception what I'm doing, and just take a seat in the waiting room?"

I did as she asked. Invited to her flat for coffee! Even if it was just medical, it would be all right. Just don't let your fantasies get away, with you, boy!

She came out, and we went upstairs as the receptionist set locked up and set the alarm.

"You're not trapped," said Amelia. "There's another way out from the bedsit."

The room was tiny, obviously just for overnight visitors.

We had coffee and biscuits and chatted a bit more generally. I managed to touch her hand as I took the coffee and a biscuit. If only it was a date!

"Right," she said, eventually. "Let's get back to your symptoms and feelings."

She checked off my symptoms, including some I didn't think relevant, and confirmed I felt like a man and fancied girls. Oh, how much I wanted to say 'like you'!

"Has anyone ever mentioned PolyCystic Ovary Syndrome, PCOS?" she asked. I said no.

"It's just that the symptoms seem to fit it, but it is rather underdiagnosed, especially by male physicians. The latest research says it is fairly common in trans men, so I think we should have it investigated. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

I was worried. How dangerous was it?

"Well, the main issue is infertility, which should not be a problem for you, but I think we should confirm it and consider treatment before going further with gender confirmation. I'm not trying to stop or delay you: I just think it would be best to know what's going on."

"I'm surprised no-one's asked for a scan or hormone tests to confirm it. Is it OK if I try to arrange something?"

That slightly put a damper on the date fantasy, but on the positive side, she put her arm around me, telling me not to be worried, she was going to make things better.

CHAPTER 2

I had a scan and blood tests, and she confirmed that I did in fact have PCOS. Meanwhile I had been looking on the internet, and found that it caused high levels of testosterone and masculinization. The most comprehensive website suggested that biological females like me should instead be treated with female hormones to restore their natural balance instead of being made more masculine.

I was confused and angry at the next appointment with Dr Clarkson (as I was careful to call her). I accused her of transphobia and trying to stop me, and stormed out to ask reception if I could have another doctor. The receptionist said I should write in with my request, which would be considered by the senior partners.

Maybe it was partly because I was having particularly a particularly bad period as well as my recurring bowel problem. The hormones are supposed to stop periods, but for some people they don't.

They gave me an appointment with McGinty (again). I was annoyed to see Dr Clarkson as well.

The first surprise was McGinty apologising.

"I'm sorry I didn't think to check for PCOS. It's clear that Dr Clarkson is much better informed than I was about gender issues, and I've asked her to take a lead with all patients where it's relevant. I wanted to assure you that it was purely your physical health she was concerned with. You should have a much better outcome now it's taken into account."

"I suggest we talk through things together, and if you are not happy, then we can transfer you to Dr Chakrabaty."

It seemed Dr Clarkson also had some ideas about my bowel problem, which McGinty had rather dismissed, so I agreed to go back to her. Well, she was better looking than Chakrabaty.

The medication she suggested really helped my bowel disorder, and I think the adjustments allowing for PCOS helped as well. My periods stopped, thank God! Or rather, thank Amelia.

She was undoubtedly more in tune with what were, after all, gynaecological matters. And gave me the opportunity for some little fantasies. However, I discovered she was a lesbian. Maybe we could have been lovers, but I didn't want to be loved as a woman.

She wears slacks at work but I'd seen her out in a miniskirt, and she definitely looked hot. The girl she was with obviously thought so too.

I don't think I could have had a more caring or attentive GP than Amelia. Obviously I had to see specialists, who were great, but she didn't just pass me over. She read their reports carefully and spent time with me explaining and discussing them. She even suggested I brought my parents in, and managed to reduce some of their anxieties.

CHAPTER 3

I had been living as a man, though not entirely accepted, and of course had male clothes, though I was looking forward to new ones when my bust was gone, and I didn't have to bind it.

Binding was the worst. I could hardly breathe, and couldn't lift my arms up. It was really tiring at work, and of course no-one there was fooled. Everyone called me Arthur but I was no longer one of the girls, and it was clear I was still not one of the lads.

It was time to clear out the last of Heather's clothes. I don't know why I had kept what I had. I had been reluctant to throw out some that had been gifts from my parents. And a few had happy memories. Not about being a woman, just a nice holiday or some other good time.

I determined that they all had to go to the charity shop.

Oh yes, the green dress.

I held it up against me. I had looked really good in it.

As a woman, of course.

I got an odd feeling. In a sense this was my last day as a woman. Not just appearance, but my breasts were a constant reminder, soon to be gone.

I didn't have any bad feelings about the woman I had been, or the way my parents had brought me up. We didn't know any better. There was just a feeling that something wasn't right. My mum appreciated other women, and we would discuss pretty ones. In fact, so did other girls at school, so that didn't make me abnormal; but I didn't have the same obsession with boys that they did.

I was twenty-two when I lost my virginity. Afterwards I felt depressed.

Mum and Dad were pleased when I brought boys home for the night, but it wasn't as much fun as they seemed to think. I was probably doing it out of duty to them, more than anything.

Dr McGinty had treated me for depression, but I had found out about trans feelings myself, and read something which persuaded me to raise it with him. It had been a couple of years before I even got a referral, but then it became obvious and to be fair he followed the counsellors' recommendations for hormone treatment. I had been trying with limited success to live as a man for a couple of years. Now the biggest problem with my appearance was about to be removed.

The idea came into my head that I should go out as a woman for the very last time. It was a sort of farewell. And maybe the final chance to change my mind?

I slipped out of my clothes and put on some lacy green panties - part of a set that had been bought to go with that dress.

I didn't put on the bra. I knew the green dress didn't need it, but Mum always insisted.

I put on the dress.

And pulled it down to, adjust my breasts in the bodice.

In the mirror I saw an attractive woman with a silly moustache standing quite provocatively with her tits on display.

Actually, they were a great pair of tits.

Mum had said I was lucky. I hadn't thought so lately.

I was sorry to think of the woman in the mirror getting rid of them. If she got rid of that moustache and put on a bit of makeup, she'd be a bit of all right.

I adjusted the bodice, so my breasts were both comfortable and were making a good shape. Yes, definitely better without the bra. I moved and liked what I saw.

It wasn't entirely rational, it just seemed the right thing to do, but I went to the bathroom, shaved off my moustache and the few hairs that grew randomly on my chin. I put on some decent makeup and did what I could with my hair. It had really been a sort of unisex style.

The feeling of high heels was unfamiliar, but it only took a minute for me to get back into the walk.

The weather was ideal, and I was reminded of how good it could feel to be out in a dress when it was like this.

I wasn't thinking of anything in particular, when a voice said "Arthur? Heather? Is that you?"

It was Amelia.

As I recognised her, she gave a big smile and looked absolutely gorgeous. The weather was warm, so I could see her shapes under the flimsy top and skirt. Great legs!

"What's this?" she said, then checked herself.

I knew the words "changed your mind?" must be on the tip of her tongue.

"No," I said, a bit flustered, answering the question which hadn't been asked.

"Just a last, er, you know, sort of goodbye."

Her face fell, but she quickly recovered with a less convincing smile.

"Care for a coffee?" she improvised.

God, I fancied her! So I said yes.

I think we both recognised that least said would be soonest mended, so we more or less had our coffees and looked at each other.

"You look nice," I said, for lack of anything else.

"You too - sorry," she responded and looked down blushing.

"Well, good luck with tomorrow, though you shouldn't need it. He's an excellent surgeon. Just make sure you follow the instructions about eating and drinking and cleaning yourself with Hibiscrub."

The spell was broken.

"Thanks," I said. "See you on the other side."

We went outside and I looked at us reflected in the window. She was looking too.

When I got back home, I looked at myself in the mirror again.

If I didn't have the operation and gave up the hormones, there was a good chance I could have Amelia.

The girl in the mirror showed me her boobs and looked very sexy. I fancied her.

As a man.

I'm a bit sexist. I look at women the way men do, and I know most women don't mind generally, if it's just looking. I didn't like men looking at my boobs because that reminded me I wasn't a man.

I was certain that I was doing the right thing, but it had been good to check. Dresses and makeup could be nice, but they didn't make me a woman. The hormones made me feel more like I always should have, and the surgery would make it easier to convince others.

CHAPTER 4

The surgery and recovery were as advertised in both the good and bad ways. Sore, but no more binding.

My parents put on a brave face and tried to be encouraging. It was the best they could do, and I knew they loved me. They had actually paid for the operation to finally take their daughter away from them.

Amelia was there as a dutiful doctor and friend, but I detected a tinge of disappointment. There was disappointment on my side as well. We would never be lovers, because now we were on the other side. A straight man and a lesbian. Never the twain shall meet.

Or if we did, it would mean I had failed as a man.

But otherwise, things went well.

I got good counselling and good advice about how to dress and present myself (in particular, not as a gay man!) My hips were a bit wide, of course, and my face wasn't that rugged, but I was still OK. I got a thing to put in my underpants to give a convincing but modest bulge. I and my counsellors did not feel any urgency for bottom surgery. Many transmen never do.

Managing PCOS helped in having fewer painful reminders of my female organs.

Work was OK. But not brilliant. There was some upsetting graffiti in the gents' toilet about Heather and Arthur. And of course I couldn't use the urinals. On the face of it, people treated me right, but were less friendly than before. Or less sincere. I was not one of the girls and not one of the boys. Just Arthur.

I managed some dates, but nothing more than the first. We didn't get to dessert for one.

Then Amelia asked me to come and see her for a review of progress.

It was more about psychological than physical. I had basically faked it with the counsellor, but I somehow opened up and cried like a woman.

I was disgusted, but I couldn't help myself.

"Would you come to dinner with me?" my doctor suddenly said.

"You mean like a date?" I said incredulously.

"No, that wouldn't be proper. Let's just say as friends."

She wouldn't say more, but I agreed.

Of course I dressed like a date. Overthinking how to be casual.

She was wearing a dress and looked nice, but it was not "impressing a new boyfriend" nice. Well, what did I expect?

There was some chit chat before she got to the point.

"I've been offered a place on a city practice, quite a way from here, so I will no longer be your doctor. Dr Chakrabaty will take over, so you should be fine."

There was something more.

"The thing is..."

"Er.. how can I put this?"

"I don't mean to..."

"It occurred to me that if you were to move away and start a new job where they don't know Heather, it might help. And if you transferred near me, I could be your doctor again to continue with your care."

"I think there are quite a few opportunities nearby, and I could always put you up overnight if you came for an interview, or were looking for a place to stay."

That was a good idea. I didn't think my career or relationships were particularly promising. It would mean moving away from my parents, but maybe that was a good idea - cutting the apron strings.

But perhaps not a good idea to move where I could see her. Better out of sight, out of mind.

So of course, I said "That'd be great. Thanks a lot." But didn't do anything about it.

She did move away, and I changed to Dr Chakrabaty, who was bit over-hearty in confirming my new gender, saying things like "Well, young man," or "Arthur, just the fellow!"

CHAPTER 5

Amelia sent me details of a job near her, which sounded quite good. The sort of work I was used to, similar salary. I decided I ought to start looking. Mum said something quite sensible. It would be worth going just for interview practice. They look at men differently from women, and it might take me a while to adjust.

When she said I probably wouldn't get it, so just treat it as a first trial, that decided me. Nothing to lose. Would I pass as a man? Or would they overlook the fact that I didn't but judge me on my merits not my gender? Probably not.

And I really wanted to see Amelia again.

Just to visit. A friend, nothing more. Anyway, it was nice of her to go to the trouble, so it would be rude not to.

I made an application and got an offer for interview. First success.

It was Friday afternoon. Amelia picked me up from the station, and took me to the company. The train was delayed, so we didn't have any time for a chat. She said she'd wait, and someone gave her a cup of tea.

A woman came out of the interview room looking pleased, and nodded to me, then spoke to the assistant about expenses.

"Good luck," she said, and I said "same to you."

The interview went reasonably well. There was a man and a woman who told me about the business and asked me questions. I think it was all right, but didn't feel I had impressed.

They asked me if I had any questions, which I didn't really.

"Oh, one more thing," said the man, "why do you want to come here? We couldn't offer you much more than you're getting now, and you would have to move."

"Is there some special reason for coming here?" added the woman.

I decided to go for it. It didn't matter.

"Not really here. I just needed to get away. I have just changed gender from a woman to a man, and I'd like to make a fresh start where people didn't know me before."

I wasn't sure what their expressions meant, but thought to myself that I'd never see them again.

"I see," said the man.

"Thank you," said the woman. "That seems to be all. See Peter about your expenses and we'll be in touch."

"Thank you for coming," said the man.

It was with a sense of relief that I shook hands and went out. I felt quite cocky that I had managed. Good practice, no harm done.

Got my expenses sorted, visited the loo, then off with Amelia.

"I didn't get it," I said, as soon as I was in the car, "but thanks for trying. I needed a practice interview."

"Never mind," she said. "But you are staying the night, aren't you? We must have a good natter."

"This is my practice," she said shortly after, pulling into the car park of a modern and quite large medical centre.

"It's quite close so it would have been handy to come in together if you stayed with me until you got your own place."

She drove out into the country, but almost immediately came to a modern estate.

"This is Tranford village," she said. "The pub's the only original building, but it's quite good. We'll have dinner there, if you don't mind. I'll give you the tour until they're ready for meals."

The centre was the pub, a shop and a community centre. There were some normal semi-detached houses, low-rise flats and maisonettes, looking like semi-detached houses, but actually four flats. There were some business premises and a number of houses in various stages of construction which she said were self-build, and explained what it meant.

Then we went to her flat, to wash and brush-up. As a man, I didn't need much with me apart from what I was wearing. A change of underpants and socks, a shirt and a T-shirt, and some pyjamas. Plus my toothbrush and razor.

There were tampons in case. There had been nothing for months, but I was still nervous.

It was a one-bedroom flat, with sofa-bed in the living room. And plenty of medical books.

Then we went to the pub. I'm not really a pub-goer, but this was one of those where it would be nice to have a meal, and it was old-fashioned pub food. I was looking at Amelia, of course and we were talking, so I didn't take much notice of what seemed a pretty ordinary crowd of people at the bar or at tables.

Two women came in and said hi to Amelia, and she invited them to join us. They introduced themselves as Liz and Sophie.

"Sophie's a nurse at my practice," Amelia explained.

"And I'm his wife," said Liz, which took a moment to sink in.

And a further moment of confusion to wonder what it meant.

"Biological male," explained Sophie, "with just a bit of improvement for the sake of the clothes. There are quite a few people in Tranford who are different from gender norms in one way or another. It's a little haven for some have had difficulty elsewhere. We're very glad to have Amelia in the practice to help with their medical care."

"Anyway, enough about him," interrupted Liz. "Amelia said she had a man friend who was coming for a job interview, so I guess that's you. Maybe we'll be seeing more of you. There are some more flats nearly ready if you're interested."

Had Amelia told them? I didn't like the idea. Or was it that obvious? For a transgender nurse, probably. But they had just called me a man friend. Being polite, I suppose.

Then the waitress came to take our orders. It was obvious why she was called Ginger. As she walked away, I wondered. Could she be a transwoman? Good bust, but from the back?

I definitely saw two women I thought had once been men, and a man I wasn't sure about. But most I couldn't tell. They couldn't all be.

When Sophie went to the bar to get our drinks, Liz leant across.

"I'm sorry about my husband," she whispered. "Not everybody's interested in gender issues. It's just that in dealing with patients he sometimes has to explain. I hope he hasn't put you off."

I reassured her, and we had a nice meal which was apparently cooked by Ginger, who must have been very busy. I was told a bit of the history of Tranford which was apparently on the site of an old hat factory.

As we walked back I reflected that maybe I had been a bit preoccupied with myself. I didn't look too bad as a man, but some transgender people must be worse, especially women with a big male frame. It must be a relief to be able to live something like a normal life in Tranford.

Back at the flat we used the bathroom (ladies first, of course) and at Amelia's suggestion put on our night things. I had my traditional men's pyjamas. Amelia looked very desirable in a nightdress. Not a ridiculous impractical 'sexy' one, but her female body was evident, and without makeup she looked vulnerable and very sweet.

We sat on the sofa and talked about things. I don't remember what, because it was distraction, neither of us knowing how to proceed.

I was about to say I should be getting to bed (though it was early) when she suddenly turned and said "Please kiss me, Arthur. Please!"

That released something, and we embraced and kissed passionately. There was no explanation, we just wanted each other. Love or lust, it didn't matter.

She took my hand and put it on her breast, which was wonderful. She sighed and said "Yes!"

We stood up, and my hands roamed more, down her back to her lovely rump, and I pressed her close, until she pulled away from my mouth and said "just a moment."

Maybe it was two moments, but then she stood naked in front of me, and smiled. I think there was some triumph in knowing what she had awoken in me. A woman to a man.

That's what I felt. Admiration for the female form, and the need to possess it. This is what the yearning had been for, and the hormones had achieved.

There was no argument as she led me to the bedroom.

I took off my pyjamas and she said "Take me!"

It was the perfect instruction, and in hindsight I recognised the difference. This was not two lesbians expertly pleasing one another, but a man selfishly enjoying a woman. And she just let it happen.

Part of the enjoyment was her pleasure with my touch and desire for her, but before long I was thrusting my groin at her. I know I didn't have a cock, but I was fucking her until I came.

I collapsed back beside her, and she turned and mounted me. She looked down so lovingly and began fingering herself. It didn't take long until she had a beautiful orgasm, gasping as she blushed down to her breasts and her nipples stood out.

I loved her.

She collapsed and we lay together.

I cannot remember all the details of that wonderful weekend, other than the fact that I enjoyed her body in every way. She did not try to masturbate me. It was understood that I did not want it, only to fuck her and feel her and kiss her everywhere any way that I wanted.

It was so different from my few lesbian encounters, and felt so right for me. It seemed it suited her to accept my lovemaking in this way.

We did do other things, like eating and sleeping, of course. And we talked a lot. One thing sticks in my mind.

"You were a troubled patient," she said, "and that was the main thing. I try not to get involved, but I really liked you. I have to admit when I saw you in that green dress I thought you'd changed your mind and I nearly died with desire. But I realised that wasn't you. Arthur was the man you ought to be, despite how you were born. The hormones changed you, but the essential you had always been there, however you looked or dressed."

"I never thought in a million years I'd fancy a man. But I do. Just this man though. You exactly as you are."

"And I would never have believed it, but I love the way you make love to me, as a man."

It was the most wonderful thing she could have said to me.

And we both knew it was more than lust. I loved and admired Amelia for the person she was in all facets, and I knew she loved me for me.

CHAPTER 6

On Wednesday there was a surprise. I got a letter offering me the job! Salary a bit more than my present one, but not worth moving for. I accepted and handed in my notice. It would have been nice if they had offered me an increase to stay, but they didn't. I think I was a bit of an embarrassment, so they were glad to wish me well elsewhere.

And guess what? It was just a job. It took me a while to learn my way around the procedures and people, but it was something I was capable and happy enough to do. I was treated as Arthur the new boy. I don't know how many knew or guessed, but it didn't seem to make much difference.

I guess that having Tranford nearby may have meant that trans people were less of a novelty. And Amelia said I was definitely walking and acting in a more male way, which wasn't entirely a compliment, but was good overall.

Yes, I moved in with her, and we moved from the rented flat to a slightly bigger one, which we were buying.

I settled down medically (definitely no more periods!), my sex was officially changed to male, and we settled down as a couple. Not an orgy every night, but lots of love.

I love giving her oral sex.

And my clit grew quite a bit bigger, so I eventually accepted her sucking my dick!

She has about three orgasms for every one of mine, which I find very satisfying. Just how it should be. And I love her breasts against my flat chest.

Or in my hands, or dangled on my face, sucked or just admired.

I love her breasts, full stop!

I practised peeing standing up, till I could do it reasonably well. I've got nothing to shake, so I have to dab it off with toilet paper. It does tend to drip a bit at the end, so I keep my pants well away. Now it's second nature to raise the seat in the bathroom.

Sophie told me that some men sit to pee, so as not to spray around the bathroom, so I went back to that at home. I've got a little funnel to make sure when I use a urinal in the Gents (only when I'm alone) which I wash in the hand basin afterwards.

I was well settled in by Christmas, and it was at the party that something struck me.

There were several men in dresses. Not transwomen, just men who liked wearing dresses. And I slightly envied them in my dull male clothes.

That was it. I hadn't disliked dresses at all. It was just that wearing one, people treated me as a woman. I wished I could have come to the party in the green dress. In fact, there was no reason I couldn't wear a dress going to the pub in Tranford. There were a couple of people who switched as the fancy took them.

We had to visit Amelia's parents and mine over the holiday, of course. So in our house, I went to the wardrobe for the green dress.

The clothes were gone, and some other things had been stored there.

"Sorry," said Mum. "You were going to take them to the shop ages ago, so I did. Something you wanted for Amelia? I don't know if they've still got them. I'm afraid not."

As soon as I could I went round to the charity shop. Blessed miracle the green dress was there!

I couldn't wait to put it on when we got back, and Amelia was excited as well.

I put it on, and my feelings burst like a bubble.

"It doesn't feel right," I said, looking at the puzzled man in the mirror with some cloth hanging sadly on him.

"It looks fine," said Amelia, "but your body's changed."

"But not that much," I replied. "You yourself told me the PCOS had masculinized me, so the changes would not be so great as they are with some patients."

The dress had been so flattering. It had made me look so feminine. But now?

Padding the bust did not help the look and felt silly.

"But I love you even more," she added.

"And you don't need a moustache to prove you're a man. You look it anyway."

I was disappointed but strangely pleased. The green dress had been for the woman I was, not the man I am now. It wasn't dirty, but I had it dry-cleaned and presented it back to the shop with the hope that someone else would enjoy it.

Mum knew one of the women in the shop and told me it had been there for months, but had been sold the very next day after I returned. And she reckoned she had seen it at a distance in the Summer.

I gave up my moustache, which people at work said was an improvement. (Mainly the girls.)

Liz, Sophie's wife, made dresses for men, so offered to make a couple for me. We spent a while looking through styles and fabrics, just like the old days with Mum.

The first dress looked great until I put it on. It fitted well, but...

There was no bust.

"It's a man's dress," Liz explained.

"There are men who are not trying to pass as female, they just like the style of clothes, so the chest is flat. I thought that's what you wanted."

It was perfectly reasonable. I totally understood.

But I didn't like it.

Liz agreed to remake it, with a bust, of the same size as I had before, and I went and bought a bra. There's a shop which Tranford folk visit for that sort of thing, and they had foam fillers for it. They gave the shape but not the weight of my boobs.

That was much better. Amelia insisted I put on some makeup.

That was good as well, and I could tell she liked me in it.

So Liz made me another one.

How can I explain it?

At work I am man and have men's clothes. Liz has a friend Hannah who worked in the tailoring trade, and with their experience, they advised me how to do the opposite of what trans men do to disguise my shape.

However, around Tranford I often wear a dress or skirt, and makeup. With the hormones I think I must feel a bit like some of the crossdressing men. More feminine, but knowing I am not really.

Amelia persuaded me to buy some shoes with moderate heels to go with the dress.

People still call me Arthur.

That spring we married in the community centre at Tranford. I wore a suit (with braces instead of a belt so a loose waist was OK, and a little padding on top of the shoulders) and Amelia had a lovely traditional dress made by Liz. Mum and Dad came. I know they weren't totally happy, but they did their very best, and I love them.

My name is Arthur. I'm a man, and always have been, really. I'm so lucky to have Amelia as my wife.

But I like wearing a dress sometimes.

And I'm so glad we found Tranford.

It was a Magic Dress story, of course, but I felt on balance it should go in Tranford Tales.