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From: Rachael Ross <rache_696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Girl Trouble ch1 Twilight in Venice by Rachael Ross (F/tg, First, Teen, Teacher)
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Date: Sat, 21 Oct 2006 08:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "girl trouble1.txt" begin>

Girl Trouble - Twilight in Venice Copyright 2006 Rachael Ross all rights
reserved Story Codes: F/tg, oral, teen, first, teacher

   Disclaimer: This fictional account is intended for mature audiences
only. Any resemblance to real persons or events may or may not be
intentional, but the town of Venice, Vermont is wholly fictional.  The
author denies ever being to Vermont, she denies that she was ever a member
of a feminist commune, and categorically denies the rumor that she wrote
children's books for money.  One animal was harmed in the making of this
document, but he is a homo sapien and is not on anyone's protected species
list anyway, especially the author's.  Although if he giggles one more time
about Amish Lesbians he may find himself on an endangered species list. 
The author wholly condemns reading over someone's shoulder and suggests in
the strongest possible terms that such activities are not only contrary to
the Geneva Convention, but constitute poor manners and a rather
misogynistic upbringing as to date such behavior has only been observed by
the author in males.  The author is extremely tempted to change the name of
her central character to Paula.  The author has received no reimbursement
of any kind for product placement in this document, even though she could
really use the money to provide financial freedom from giggling, misogynist
husbands named Paul.  This space for rent.

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   Synopsis: Amanda is a girl raised in a small and completely female
community, where children are sheltered and naive and protected from many
of the rude realities of the outside world.  It's idyllic and very nearly
perfect, except for one small thing...Amanda is really a boy.
Note: I dunno, I was sitting here bored and I just started typing.  I
typed the first sentence, just because I'd never written it before, and I
wondered, 'What the hell does that mean?' So then I kept going until I hit
4000 words.  I have a vague storyline in my head now at least, and the
title I like is 'Paradise Lost'...but maybe that's pretentious.
Next Morning: I woke up and I had it, first thing, the whole story. 
This story will be composed of three chapters, 'Twilight in Venice'
followed by 'The Garden of Earthly Delights' and finally 'Paradise Lost' so
those are the real titles, I'm just lumping them together under the story's
working title 'Girl Trouble' which I will change before posting, I hope. 

It sucks as a title.

   =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

   Girl Trouble Chapter 1 - Twilight in Venice

   By Rachael

   I didn't really know for sure I wasn't a girl until I was almost 14
years old.

   That sounds kind of funny, I know, but it's the truth.  I'd grown up
with my mom, her wife, and 3 older sisters at a sort of feminist commune in
Vermont.  It was a nice place, kind of like a cross between a YWCA summer
camp and a religious cult, except the religion was centered around women.

   It was named Venice, which is a nice name, but we didn't have any canals
or gondolas or anything.  What we did have was art.  Almost everyone there
was an artist of one kind or another.  It had been founded by a small group
of female writers.  One was a feminist, but she was the exception really,
because another one was a dollar-a-page pornographer, and another was a
translator.  She translated stuff like Goethe, Hesse, Nietzche, and anyone
else in German into English, French, and Greek.

   They were joined by painters and sculptors, photographers and musicians.
We even had some dancers, some Russians, but they didn't stay long.  I
guess dancing isn't really something you can do by yourself.  They just
came for vacations in the winter because they liked the cold Vermont
scenery.  Some women weren't artists, they came because the artists needed
things like a general store and a little gas station and a diner.  And some
women came by mistake, like the three women from Pennsylvania who thought
Venice was a lesbian Amish community.  They rode up in a wagon but turned
around when they saw the streetlights, or something.

   It's kind of hard to explain if you haven't actually been there, so
you'll just have to take my word for it.  I grew up thinking I was a girl,
well, knowing I was a girl more like.  I wore girl's clothes, I played with
dolls, I talked and walked and giggled like a girl.  The women there, of
which there were about 40 or so families, 75 adults with maybe 25 children
aged 3 on up to 18 years old, probably went out of their way to feminize
me. But that's just me looking back on it, so maybe I'm wrong.  At the time
it didn't seem like they treated me much different from anyone else.

   I was pretty, since all girls are pretty, and I've always been small and
thin, even for a girl.  My was and still is long and blonde, like golden
yellow, not washed out or anything, except it gets lighter in the summer. I
got that from my mom, along with my heart shaped face and green eyes.  All
of my sisters have green eyes too.  Like a family of cats.  Everyone likes
our eyes.  I dressed like any other girl my age, pants sometimes, shorts
other times, dresses and skirts and blouses and shirts.  You know the
drill. We weren't backwards at all, in fact some of the women were pretty
fashion conscious, and when I was growing up we'd get our tips from the
latest issue of Vogue and Cosmopolitan at the hairdresser's.

   These women weren't militant feminists or anything, let me explain that.
They didn't hate men, or want to change the world, or even themselves
really.  They just wanted a community of women in which to live.  They
liked to wear dresses and makeup and be girls and gossip and watch Oprah on
TV.  Some of them liked men, I mean loved them, especially the younger
women, the girls in their late teens and twenties.  They would go into
town, to Burlington, and have fun with the boys and come back and tell the
rest of us about it.  And some women moved away, going back to some city to
find a boyfriend or a husband.  Venice wasn't a prison.

   I wanted a boyfriend ever since I turned eleven I think.

   Other women, like my mom, were lesbians, or at least bi-sexual.  My mom
had been married before, to a man, and then they got divorced when she was
still pregnant with me, and then she'd married Marcia, who was my mom's
second wife and my step-mom.  I thought having two moms was normal, at
least for awhile.  But even the lesbians weren't castrating bitches; they
just wanted someplace to live where they could be married to another woman
and raise a family.  Most of them hated all the gay rights stuff, the
parades and loud and proud and all that.  In fact I knew two or three women
for sure who had moved up from New York City just to get away from those
people.

   So don't think we were a bunch of cultists living in the woods and
planning for the Second Coming.  We had a woman who was a Presbyterian
Minister, except she wasn't because she'd married a catholic nun, and we
all went to her barn for church on Sundays.  It had been fixed up and
cleaned like a proper church, except it was still red on the outside.  We
had a one room school with two women who were real teachers and had the
homework to prove it.  They'd been run out of some town in Georgia for
being in love, since that love stuff might corrupt the kids down there.  We
had a mayor and a police woman and a garbage woman and our little commune
was incorporated as a real town.  So we had taxes too, but not very much.
We even had a little post office and a two page newspaper, well it was one
page, but printed front and back.

   We just didn't have any boys.

   But that changed when I was 13 years old.  I was waiting for my first
period then, my menstruation, and wondering when my boobs were gonna start
growing.  My sisters had all gotten theirs when they were 12 mostly, but I
was 13 and almost 14 and I hadn't felt anything yet.  But I was a little
different anyway, I knew.  I mean I'd seen girls naked before, my sisters
anyway, it wasn't like all the women paraded around naked.  I just mean I
lived in a house with 3 sisters, you know, so I'd seen them and being a
girl myself it was no big deal.  Except my pussy looked a little weird.

   "Mom, I look weird." I remember saying one day when I was maybe 10 years
old.

   "What do you mean Mandy?" My mom asked.  My name is Amanda, but she
always liked to call me Mandy.

   "I mean down here." I pulled up my dress with one hand and pulled down
my little white panties with the other, so she could see my weirdness.

   "Oh." My glanced at me, nodding her head.  "Yeah, you're a little
different, that's okay though."

   My mom was a painter, she did pictures for children's books.  My
step=mom wrote children's books and they'd won a Caldecott Award for a book
called 'Follow me Home' which was about a girl who has all sorts of weird
animals follow her home from school all the time.  Like she'd come home and
a zebra would follow her, or a giraffe, or even an alligator, but it didn't
bite or anything, and she'd tell her mom and ask if she could keep it.  Her
mom always said no and the girl would send the animal away, both of them
sad.  But at the very end a cat follows her home, just a plain old everyday
ordinary kitten and her mom finally says yes and the girl is so happy, even
though it isn't one of those other fancy animals.  And then guess what? 
The kitten grows up to be a lion!  Isn't that a good story?

   "How come I'm different?" I asked, looking down at my things.  My
sisters were all pretty smooth down there, but I had a thing, a couple
things, and it wasn't very smooth at all.

   "Well, people are different." My mom shrugged.

   "Yeah but why me?" I persisted.  "I was looking at Carol's thing and she
doesn't have nothing there except a slot." Carol is my youngest older
sister, she's eighteen months older than me.

   "It's not a slot, dear, it's a slit." She smiled at me.  "And don't call
it that either, it's a vagina.  Your vagina is just different.  You have a
penis, that's all."

   "What's a penis?" I was looking down at myself.

   "It's like a clitoris." Mom was making cookies.  "This thing, right
here..." She reached down, threatening to touch my clit with her index
finger all covered in sticky cookie dough and I jumped back a little.

   "I don't get it." I told her.  "What's this then?"

   "Those are your testicles." Mom shrugged and went back to her cookies.
"They're like balls."

   "Ohhh..." I nodded.  I'd heard of balls before.  "You mean like boys?"

   "Yeah, exactly, boys have balls and dicks." She smiled at me.  "You have
a penis and testicles."

   "So...How come?"

   "I don't know." She laughed.  "How come the sky is blue?  You just have
them, that's all."

   "Do other girls have them?" I asked her.

   "Of course other girls have them." My mom said seriously.  "But most
people see those things and figure they must be dicks and balls so they try
to turn the girl into a boy."

   "And then what, mom?"

   "And then she's sad the rest of her life." My mom stopped cooking for a
minute and looked at me, giving me a sympathetic smile.  "Just think if I'd
dressed you up like a boy, and cut your beautiful hair, and made you play
with trucks and army toys...You wouldn't like that very much, would you?"

   "Uh-uh." I agreed, I wouldn't have liked that at all.

   "Well, that's what happens to some girls." Mom nodded sagely.  "Just
because her parents didn't realize that having testicles and a penis
doesn't necessarily make a person a boy."

   "What's necessessarilly?"

   "Necessarily, it means always...people who look like boys aren't always
boys, and girls who look like girls aren't always girls." Mom looked me in
the eye.  "See?  It's what's inside that counts and inside of you, you're a
girl.  Right?"

   "Yeah." I nodded and I found out later that that was the same
explanation all my sister had gotten too, when they'd brought up the
differences between me and them.  I'd just gotten the lesson a little later
because I was younger, but it made sense.  Sorta.  I mean if mom said so it
must be true.

   But my period didn't come and instead I got something else.  I woke up
yelling because it was dark in my room and I'd been having a weird dream,
like a nightmare, except it wasn't.  But it had woken me up, and Carol too,
since we shared our room, and I'd felt like I had a cramp, sort of, and I
was wet and sticky in my panties and I just knew it had to be blood.  I was
getting my period and I was yelling in the dark and when my mom and
step-mom came in I was a little excited about it.  Maybe my boobs were
gonna start growing too and I was feeling them, just a bit, but they felt
small and normal.

   I just kind of pointed down at my body, which was still under the
blankets because I was afraid to look.  Blood was scary, even if I did want
it to happen.  So I pointed and mom pulled back the covers and my step-mom
smiled at me and she was close too.  Carol was kinda scared I think and she
just stayed in her bed watching.

   "Oh, baby, you're okay." My mom said gently.  "It was just a wet dream,
come here." She pulled me up and gave me a hug.  "You're a big girl now. 
You're okay."

   "I didn't get my period?" I twisted a little, looking down and my pink
panties just had a big dark wet spot on them.

   "You did." My mom said.  "You got your period, but it's just a different
kind, that's all."

   "Different?" I didn't know what that meant and it was too late at night
for a real explanation anyway.  My step-mom went for a washcloth and they
cleaned me up, just trying to relax me more than trying to tell me
something that would only confuse me more.

   I went back to sleep knowing I was a girl, but reminded once more of my
weirdness and feeling a little ashamed even.  I was a girl inside, I knew
that and so did everyone else, but I started to really understand that
outside I was part boy too.  At least down there.

   Thankfully no one gave me a hard time about it.  Not even my middle
sister, Tricia, who was kind of mean to me sometimes.  None of them teased
me because I'd gotten my period and it was different than theirs.  If
anything they gave me a lot of sympathy.  We were all very close, as was
the whole community.  Venice prided itself on closeness.

   I know in other places a girl like me would have had a hard time, but I
didn't.  Once my classmates found out about it, and it wasn't like it was a
big secret or anything, I became sort of popular.  I told all the girls
about it, even making stuff up sorta, because I didn't remember much before
I started screaming and by that time whatever had happened had finished. 
But that was pretty boring, so I told them it had hurt some, like the worst
cramp in the world, and it made my nipples itch, cause my oldest sister,
Veronica, said her nipples itched a lot when she got her periods.

   I even showed the other girls during lunch, well some of them anyway,
the older girls mostly.

   "That's kinda funny lookin' " Barbie said.  She was 15 and taller than
me by a lot.  "It looks like a dick."

   "It's a penis." I told her.  "Boys have dicks."

   "Yeah, that's what my mom said." Tina nodded.  "Boys are dicks."

   "Not boys are dicks." I looked at her.  "Boys have dicks." Tina was just
13 and sort of silly all the time.  Her mom was the captain of the fire
department, mostly because she had a red pickup truck I thought at the
time.

   "Same thing." Mary Ellen giggled.  She was the oldest, almost 17 years
old and she knew a lot about boys.  "You got balls too, huh?"

   "No." I shook my head.  "I have testicles because I'm a girl."

   "You got balls." Mary Ellen said.  "But you're not a boy."

   "Yeah, that's weird." Barbie looked at Tina who was nodding.  "Does it
hurt?"

   "No, uh-uh" I shrugged.

   "It's kinda neat though." Tina reached out and flicked my penis with her
finger.

   "Ow!" That did kinda hurt, but not too bad.  "Don't do that."

   "Yeah, you gotta do it like this." Mary Ellen took my penis in her
fingers, wrapping her hand around it so it disappeared.  "Like milking a
cow or something."

   She was moving her hand a little and it felt pretty good, a lot better
than getting it flicked.  In fact it felt really good after a minute or so,
like I could feel my heart beating in it.

   "What are you doing to it?" Barbie asked.

   "I dunno, I just seen this before when I was at the library in
Burlington, on the computer.  Some boy was doing it like this and it made
his dick big."

   "Really?" Tina laughed nervously and licked her lips.

   "How big?" I asked.  We were all watching her hand move.

   "Pretty big." Mary Ellen laughed and then she let go so we could see my
penis all of 5 inches long and not really very big around.  "Bigger than
that."

   "What happened to it?" Barbie gave a little gasp.

   "Does it hurt now?" Tina leaned closer, staring at my penis.  It was
definitely bigger and hard too, sticking out like a pencil.

   "Nope." I swallowed hard.  "It just feels kinda weird."

   "I feel weird sometimes." Barbie said.  "Like when I take a bath
sometimes."

   It wasn't the first time it had gotten hard, but mostly I just figured
those other times were just cramps or something.  At first I was always
worried I was gonna have another one of those wet dream things and have a
period in my panties, like right in the middle of church or something.  But
I never did and it usually went away a few minutes later, but this was the
first time I understood that it could get big and hard by touching.

   The bell was ringing, well Ms.  Peterson was ringing her bell, and she
was one of our teachers.  So I had to try and put my penis back in my
panties, but it hurt so I kind of left it up against my tummy with my
panties around it, but that didn't seem like a good idea because it sort of
felt good like that.  And when I tried to move it around it felt good no
matter what I did.  It was hard and big all afternoon and I was fidgeting a
lot, sort of trying to find a good place for it through my dress as I sat
in class.

   "Amanda, are you okay?" Ms.  Peterson asked me after our last class of
the day.

   Ms.  Peterson was old, but not like as old as my mom, maybe 25 or
something and she was one of the women who liked to go to Burlington on
weekends, even though she was married to Ms.  Eversman, the other teacher.
She always told us stories on Monday mornings about how much fun she had
dancing with boys and I wondered sometimes why Ms.  Eversman didn't get
mad. But maybe she danced with boys too, but didn't like to talk about it.

   "Yes ma'am." I said, holding my books and feeling kind of silly, but not
really embarrassed or anything.  I liked school and I liked my teachers,
especially Ms.  Peterson.

   "Are you sure?" She touched my forehead with her palm, looking for a
fever.  "You seemed awfully distracted today."

   "It's my penis." I shrugged.  "It got hard and sorta hurts a little."

   "Oh." Ms.  Peterson gave me a funny look.  All the other girls were gone
already, cause it was a nice day outside.  "I see, umm...well, some uh,
girls can have that problem."

   "Really?" I looked at her.  "I think I'm the only one sometimes.  I
mean..." I did feel a little embarrassed then.  "...sometimes I think I'm
sort of weird or something."

   "Has anyone been giving you a hard time about your, uh...penis?" Ms. 
Peterson asked, she was a little embarrassed too maybe.  Her pretty face
was pink and her blue eyes wouldn't settle on mine.  She brushed her brown
hair back a little, it was long and she liked to wear it loose.

   "No, uh-uh." I shook my head.  "The other girls just wanna see it
sometimes."

   "I see." Ms.  Peterson licked her lips and glanced around the school
room quickly.  "Do you think, I mean...could I see it?"

   "Sure." I shrugged.  "If you want to, I guess."

   I put my books on the closest desk and lifted my skirt so she could see
the swollen head of my hard penis sticking up through the waistband of my
panties.  It was dark, sort of more reddish than it usually was.

   "Oh." Ms.  Peterson nodded and smiled.  "No wonder it hurts.  Don't keep
it like that, Amanda." She pulled my panties down around my thighs and it
immediately felt better.

   "But it really hurts if I try to bend it." I said, staring down at it as
it stuck straight out from my body.  It looked like a hot dog.

   "Well, don't bend it either, silly!" She laughed at me.  "You have to
try and push it down I think." She was holding me like Mary Ellen had,
squeezing it a little bit and not really pushing it down at all.

   "Oh." I shivered, just a little, because it felt good again.

   "You really have a pretty penis, Amanda." Ms.  Peterson said softly. 
"You're such a pretty girl anyway."

   "Um, thanks." I said, not really sure what to say about that.  "You're
pretty too." I told her, just because she was.

   "Do you think so?" Ms.  Peterson smiled at me.

   "Oh yeah." I nodded and then sort of bounced on my toes because Ms. 
Peterson was squeezing my penis even better than Mary Ellen had. 
"Everybody thinks so."

   "That's sweet." She leaned a little closer to me, lowering her voice. 
"If you want, I can kiss it for you, Amanda."

   "W-What?" I didn't think I'd heard her right.

   "Your pretty penis...Do you want me to kiss it for you?" She was looking
at me and I stared back at her.  She really was very pretty.

   "It's uh...I pee outta there." I said, before I had much chance to think
about it.

   "That's okay.  You're not gonna pee now, are you?" She asked, smiling
and squeezing.

   "Uh..." I swallowed nervously.

   "Just a little one, because you're so pretty." She was getting down,
like she was going to kneel on the floor.  "But you can't tell anybody,
okay?  It's our secret."

   I wasn't too sure about this.  That was my penis, I mean it would be
like kissing a regular girl on her slit, wouldn't it?  That would be pretty
gross, so why would Ms.  Peterson want to do that to me?

   "Ummm..." I felt my heart beating faster and it was hard to breathe all
of a sudden.

   We didn't have any secrets, well I didn't anyway, I suppose maybe some
people did, but mostly everybody was pretty happy and proud that our town
didn't have any secrets at all.  But here was Ms.  Peterson wanting to kiss
my penis and not only that, she wanted it to be a secret.  If it was bad,
why would she want to do it?  But if it was good, why would it be a secret?

   I was pretty confused.

   "Ohhh..." But Ms.  Peterson didn't spend a lot of time explaining, or
giving me a chance to say no.  She just kissed my penis, right on the tip,
and that wasn't all, she opened her mouth and took it right inside too. 
That felt amazing!  I was groaning, just because I didn't know what else to
say, just "Ohhh..." and my penis was inside the woman's mouth and it was
warm and wet and soft like a cloud probably.  I could feel her tongue
moving around my penis and I just stared at her for about thirty seconds.

   I would have stared longer but I had another wet dream right then, the
second one of my life, and this time I was wide awake for it!

   "Ah...ahhh...ahh...ah...ohhhh...I'm sorry!" I was gasping and I felt
like I'd been punched in the tummy all of a sudden.  My whole body just
throbbed, but especially down by my penis and even my testicles.  They were
practically jumping or something.  I felt it almost painful when that stuff
came out, just shooting like my penis was a little garden hose or a squirt
gun maybe.

   But even while I was apologizing and flushing with embarrassment and
trying to get away because this had to be as bad as peeing, if not worse,
Ms.  Peterson just kept it in her mouth, putting her hands on my hips and
holding me tight so I couldn't get away.  She was even swallowing that
stuff, if you can believe that.  Licking all around my penis and making
soft wet swallowing sounds like it was the best stuff in the world.

   I was so tense right then, like I got hit by electricity or something,
but not her.  I could barely even think straight and I had to admit that it
felt really good, except part of my penis was a little too sensitive
sometimes and when Ms.  Peterson's tongue would touch me in the wrong place
I'd almost scream, but mostly it felt amazing.  I was breathless and my
heart was pounding and I couldn't believe Ms.  Peterson had swallowed it.
But she had.

   "Mmm...you taste so good Amanda." Ms.  Peterson was licking her lips
with her whitish gooey tongue.  "You even taste pretty." She giggled.

   "You like it?" I asked her, not really believing that she could.

   "Yeah, it's just a part of you." She smiled.  "And I like you very much,
so why shouldn't I like this too?"

   "I don't know." I said, but inside I could think of a few other things
that came out of me that I knew she wouldn't like.  Boogers, for instance,
nobody liked those!

   "Now, you should be all better, I think." She was smiling and tucking my
penis into my panties and it was better.  Not quite soft like it usually
was, but soft enough so it didn't hurt as she put it away for me, pulling
up my panties and giving my penis a little goodbye squeeze.

   "Uh, yeah." I blinked at her.  "I guess its better."

   "Good." She looked at me, putting her hands on my shoulders and licking
her lips some more.  "This is our secret okay, Amanda?  From now on if you
have any problems like that, you just tell me, alright?  I'll help you. 
Okay?"

   "Oh, okay um, Ms.  Peterson." I nodded, still not sure if what we'd done
was good or bad and whichever it was, the reasons why.

   "Good girl, now you run home." She kissed my cheek.  "And remember,
don't tell anyone."

   "Uh-huh." I nodded, picking up my books.  I wasn't gonna tell anyone,
mostly because I wasn't sure what had happened.  I mean she'd touched me,
and then kissed me down there, and then swallowed my wet dream stuff,
whatever that was.

   Probably nobody would believe me anyway, I thought.

   End chapter 1 rache696@yahoo.com http://www1.asstr.org/~rache/index.htm


   

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