I didn’t fully love my body. There was a disconnect between my reflection and I. Something was off, like I’m developing wrong. Everything was correct, I’m okay looking with a good body. Yet, something is missing. And there was, my uterus was removed when I was thirteen.

It’s a common procedure for omega males at that age. No one can tell the subgender of a baby unless they have an intense test. The AO gene creates a second set of hormones that present characteristics similar to our base gender. These characteristics show in two categories: Alpha and Omega.

The AO gene was created by man in the early 1900s when a military experiment went haywire. In an attempt to make the perfect soldier, they injected modified wolf DNA into the blood of over a thousand men over the course of ten years. Most men came out exactly how they wanted: beefed up, pumped with testosterone, and aggressive in nature. These men were called ‘Alphas’, named after the packer leader of wolves. However, at least 40% of men came out effeminate; their estrogen levels were abnormally high, and they exhibited an extreme desire towards men with the injection.

A couple decades later, male descendants of the men who’ve had the injection started having babies. In the sixties, they coined the term ‘Omega’ and male hysterectomies became mandatory. Because the AO gene is random, anyone with the gene could give birth to either an Alpha or Omega, meaning women can be either or as well. ‘Beta’ men and women are considered normal because they don’t exhibit features that an Alpha or Omega does—such as having pointed ears or experience heats—and they cannot get an omega person pregnant. I learned the history of my genes the year I got the surgery. Since then, I’ve felt I had a piece ripped from me. I was empty, yet the effects of being an omega still remained. I could be wrong, but I believe these effects is what lead me to try cross-dressing.

The first incident was after the death of my mom, Erena Harper-Voegeli. A few weeks after her funeral, I stepped into one of her black, silk dresses. It was baggy on me and dragged pass my ankles. I missed her deeply and wanted to feel connected to her again. I was nine when she died of a sudden heart attack while I was at school. I didn’t see anything wrong with wearing her dresses to bed and did so for a year. One day, Dad caught me, and he beat my ass with one of his leather belts. It was so painful, so disheartening I wouldn’t dare to think about wearing woman’s clothing again. That is, until I was introduced to the internet.

At thirteen, I browsed ‘boy in girl’s clothes’ on Google and found influencers like Ambrose Star and Charles Maddon, two makeup artists who love to stir up controversy. I followed them on MySpace and became entranced in their lifestyle. The fame, the makeup, the fashion, the freedom, I desired it all. A summer while I was seventeen, I managed to build up the courage to buy my first dress and makeup from a beauty supply store down the block using my birthday money.

My brothers were home when I returned from the long walk. I didn’t speak to them, hurrying to the basement. I put on the skimpy, black dress in the bathroom and watched makeup tutorials on YouTube. By the end, I was in full drag. It wasn’t great, but for the first time, I think I did okay. It was a different aura than t-shirts and jeans. There was a sense of comfort, similar to how I felt in my mom’s dress.

Sometime before I bought the dress, I found a blog for crossdressers called ‘SissiesUnited’. Countless men posted seductive photos of themselves in women’s clothes. I found a home there, especially after I experienced the high. I couldn’t wait to post of picture; however my face wasn’t in any of the photos. I was underage taking raunchy stills of myself and posting them online, but men loved me. By the end of summer, I had over five hundred followers and even made a few online friends.

 

Wednesday. November 9th. 2011.

School had started again, this time Basil graduated. We still talked on the phone and met up every other Saturday. On a random Tuesday night in September, I happen to drink half a fifth of vodka while on the phone with Basil. Before I got drunk, I put on a purple sundress with matching makeup that took me a few hours to do. I was posting pictures when Basil called. Out of nowhere, I asked him, “What do you think about crossdressers?”

“I don’t think about them often. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Basil chuckles. “Why? Are you a sissy?”

“How do you know what a sissy is?”

“I know a few things.”

I smile as I look down. “Sure.”

“Answer my question.”

I pause before I open my mouth. “I think so.”

“Really?”

“I’m dressed up right now.”

“Let me see.’

I pinch my legs together. “You wanna see?”

“Yeah. I bet you look hot.”

“Okay. I’ll send you a pic.” I go to the bathroom where I take a quick selfie in the mirror with my iPhone. “I’m sending it to you now.” I slur. I clumsily swipe the screen, sending the picture through the photos app and not paying complete attention. “Sent.”

Basil waits a minute and says, “I didn’t get it.”

I go to my massages and gasp, “Fuck!”

“What?”

I shake my head just as a message appears on screen. It’s from Bailey, my classmate, and the girlfriend of De’Markus. It said: ‘What is this?’ I grab a chunk of my hair. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit! I just sent the picture to a classmate.”

“Oh shit.”

I respond to her, ‘Please delete that. Don’t show anybody.’

She says, ‘Too late. My boyfriend is here, and he already saw it.’

“De’Markus saw the picture.” I cover my eyes. “He’s going to send it to everyone.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“No it’s not! They’re never going to let it go. I’m already being called a ‘faggot’.”

“Own up to it. You’re a sissy after all.”

I grit my teeth. “If anyone says that to me, I’ll kick their ass.” I soften the grip. “I should just kill myself now.”

“Don’t. It’ll be okay. You’ve got me.” Basil said, but I didn’t believe him. For good reason too. The next day at school, my classmates were looking at me strangely in hallways. They snickered when I walked by. I saw Bailey and confronted her,

“You didn’t show anyone, did you?”

Bailey tries to hold back her smile but fails. “I didn’t. Mark did, though.”

“Who did he show?”

“His friends. He sent it to them.”

My face grows red, I can feel the heat. “Where is he?”

“It’s just a stupid photo, Vehren.”

“Fuck you!” I shout in her face.

“Hey!” A girl came up to us just as I sped away. I went to the locker room to check for De’Markus, but he wasn’t there. My next place to search was the cafeteria, but I didn’t need to look any further. De’Markus came into the building as soon as I reached the front. I saw him and walked in his direction.

“Why did you send that photo?”

De’Markus just laughs. “Why were you in a dress?”

“It was a costume! And it wasn’t for you.”

“Was it for Bailey? Were you trying to impress her?”

“Fuck off! It was an accident. You sent it to your friends, asshole.”

“‘Cause it’s funny! You look ridiculous, Vehren. How could I not share that?”

“Hey, faggot.” A voice calls from behind. It’s the varsity quarterback, Justin Amber, with his posse behind him. He comes up to fist bump De’Markus, giving me a disgusted look. “No dress today?”

Rage builds up inside me, it hurts my stomach. I can feel myself blacking out. “I should kick your ass.” I turn back to De’Markus. “I’ll fight all of you, right now.”

“Do it.” De’Markus just smiles.

Justin laughs. “I’ll beat the faggot out of you.” In a heartbeat, I punch Justin first then pounce on De’Markus. One single hit to the jaw and he was on the ground. A crowd forms and Justin’s posse eggs us on. I climb on top of him to punch over and over until Justin pulls me off. He has me in a hold, yelling, “You’re fucking crazy, Vehren!” De’Markus gets up and punches me in the gut. Another one to the face. Justin lets go of me, allowing me to keel over and cough. A couple teachers breaks us up and brought us three to the principal’s office.

We each were scolded before suspended. In the office, we waited for our parents to pick us up in silence. I stare at De’Markus the whole time, unable to settle my anger. My dad arrives first, coming into the office confused.

“Dad.” I stand up, grabbing my bag.

“What happened?” He sees the bruise on my cheek and touches the spot.

“They called me names.”

“What did they call you?”

“A faggot.” I blink.

Dad looks at De’Markus and Justin. “Why did you call my son that?”

De’Markus shakes his head, arms folded over his chest. “He sent my girlfriend a weird picture.” My heart drops.

“What was the picture.”

“Don’t show him.” I grit my teeth.

“Fuck off.” De’Markus gets up, pulling his phone from his pocket. He shows my dad the picture of me in the dress, staring at me the entire time. Dad doesn’t say anything, but his face turns read.

“Dad…” I struggle to even say the word.

“Get in the car.” Dad heads out of the office in a fury. I follow behind like a sad puppy. In his red F-150, he yelled at me from the top of his lungs. He told me, “You are a man! Men don’t dress up in women’s clothing. It’s disgusting and against God. Why did you take that photo?”

I sink into the seat. “I was sending it to my friend.”

“Did your friend ask you to dress up?”

“No, I did that on my own.” I watch the football field go by. “I enjoy doing it.”

“That’s very weird, Vehren. Do you need to see Dr. Lanchester again? I can set that up.”

“I rather not. I’m fine, Dad. It was just experimenting.”

“Are you gay?” He finally asked the question I dreaded.

“Yes.” I sink further.

“It’s…” Dad is at a loss for words. “It’s just a phase.” He settles down. “You’ll get over it with distraction. After football, maybe you should take up another sport to keep you busy. Your grades are good, so I can’t fault you there. But this gay thing, don’t let that last. It’s a sin against God, the devil is getting to you. This can be mended. You can still be saved.”

“Right…” I watch the buildings go by.

Dad sighs deeply. “I’m not giving up on you. I honestly just don’t know what to do right now.”

“You could accept me.” I finally look at him.

“No, I can’t. Not that.” Dad doesn’t look back. The conversation ends there. We don’t speak even when we arrive home. Alma came home and they went to their room upstairs to talk. After about an hour, they came to the basement and continued their conversation with me. Their plan of action was to go to church and have me attend bible study every day for the duration of my suspension. I had no choice in the matter, plus they took my phone.

I lost contact with Basil for two weeks. They took my computer as well. I wasn’t allowed to be alone in my bedroom, they forced me to sit in the living room until bedtime, even when no one was there. With four brothers, the room always had someone there. I had to read the bible, finishing around the time my suspension was up.

Once they were over and Dad gave me back my things, I was able to contact Basil again. I told him what happened and why I wasn’t responding to calls. “My dad knows I’m gay and he doesn’t accept it.”

“That fucking blows. What did he say?”

“That it was against God. The devil has got me, but I can still be saved. He made me read the bible and attend study during church.”

“Ew. I hate that Jesus talk. Look, don’t listen to him. He’s a fucking asshole who thinks he knows everything because of a book.”

“I agree.” My eyes lower. “When can I see you again?”

“This weekend. I’ll help you feel a whole lot better.”

I squeeze my legs together and bite my lower lip. “I can’t wait.