Chapter 21

4014 18th St
San Francisco, CA

September 2011

"It's not Body dysmorphic disorder." Ash said as she admired herself in front of the mirror. "And it's not Body integrity identity disorder and it's not Gender dysphoria, not really. But this is the first time I've recognized myself in the mirror in a very long time."

"Depersonalization disorder, caused by abuse," Spencer said. He crossed his legs as he sat on the end of the bed and watched her. This preening was healthy; he wasn't going to interrupt it, even if it was bedtime. "It's understandable; your body didn't match up with your mind. It's not psychosis though; at least I haven't seen you lose your grip on reality." He'd seen his mother lose her grip often enough to recognize that one when he saw it. "There are medications..."

"Oh, I think I'll stick with good old CBT, thank you, although that has limitations." She turned to check out her backside in her jeans.

"Oh?"

"Cognitive behavioral therapy is supposed to help you become aware of inaccurate or negative thinking, so you can view challenging situations more clearly and respond to them in a more effective way. In practice it's become learning how to change your reactions to negative situations to ones of acceptance and tolerance, because the problem is always your thinking and your emotions around a situation." She turned and smiled. "Sometimes the problem really is the situation. Sometimes your thinking can be correct and your emotions justified and the situation needs to change. For example, I think if I looked like this all the time I wouldn't depersonalize nearly as often." She looked at her backside again, the one gender referenced body part untouched by the surgeon. "I need to do more squats."

"Talk to Morgan, he's a gym rat." She had a point, a therapist would likely tell her that she was putting too much emphasis on her looks and falsely thought her father had more power than he did. The truth was that hormones were powerful and that imbalance needed treating, and her father obviously had the power and influence to do what he did. There was an external situation to take into account here, and it would fall to him to help her therapist understand that. "You're beautiful regardless."

"You always say that." But her tone said she appreciated it. "Still, do you like?"

"You know what I like?"

"What?"

"The light in your eyes that tells me that you like it; that's what matters." It did. At this moment she was supremely comfortable with her body, and very, very happy. And it made her radiant. "If this is how you want your body to be then we'll get it there."

"Mostly." She rubbed her hands over her backside. "More squats."

"When you go on hormone replacement your fat stores should shift to your hips and thighs. That will help."

"It did last time. But still, after all that time on the ship I am woefully out of shape."

"Like I said, Morgan." Spencer was curious about one thing. "How much of that are you wearing to bed?"

"None," Ash sighed and reached up and pulled her wig off her head, revealing her too short, too thin hair. "But Penelope came up with some ideas for that. I just need to go wash my face." She placed the wig on the new stand on the dresser and started pushing her jeans off her hips.

Once again the blood rushed out of Spencer's head as red satin underthings were revealed. "Uhhh..."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "It's called a cache-sex." She said. "Designed for cross-dressing men who want to hide what's down there. It was the most feminine looking jock strap we could come up with." When her black t-shirt came off, it revealed a very plain bra with silicone breast forms inside. "Until we deal with my father I won't be wearing this every day, but we found these which should disappear under a shirt." She reached into the drawer and pulled out a satiny red camisole to match the panties.

"Uhhh. Oh." That had been an ongoing problem. It had only been three months since her surgery, and for her everything felt so very wrong. But the only things they had found to help minimize distracting, uncomfortable, sometimes outright painful movement down there had been very masculine.

"Oh? Is that a good oh?"

"That's a remind me to bring Penelope some wonderful thank you gift at some point oh." Because Ash was always beautiful, but he knew her well enough for the hydraulics to work, and red satin set off her skin just so...

"Oh." Ash grinned and headed to the bathroom.

Spencer settled back on his side of the bed, rested his writing case against his knees, and finished off the day's letter to his mom. "Don't you have to 'tuck' with one of those?" He asked when he heard the door open again.

"Thankfully I'm small enough not to have to, because I'm not built for it." She replied. He could hear her moving about the bedroom. "And those things have a very soft lining, I'm really happy with the way they work. What do you think?"

"Good. About?" He looked up and found her in this white nightdress, complete with lace and ribbons, and a pale, knitted cap over her hair to keep her head warm. Penelope had clearly talked her into presenting as female in private. She looked delicate and willowy and...and..."Uhhh, ohhh."

That brought laughter as she climbed into bed next to him, and he reached over to turn down the lights.

There wasn't anything they could do. She was far too sensitive, still, to the point of pain if touched wrong, and then there were the psychological aspects on top of it. And he was not the kind to receive what he could not give in return, a gentleman simply would not. But as his lips found hers and she pressed her body to his he could feel the want there, the need there, the rising ache that would once again not be satisfied.

But they could ache for each other. That was theirs alone.

They fell asleep tangled together.