Girl Trouble (see synopsis below)

Story by rachaelross

Girl Trouble

Story Codes for this chapter: F/tg, oral, teen, first, teacher

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 thingâ¦Amanda is really a boy.

Note for FP: This story is not exactly Futanari, the main character is a transgender minor so be aware of that. There are four chapters to this story and I am posting them all in this thread for your convenience. Additional chapters include pregnancy, incest, and romance. -rr

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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, Nietzsche, 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 hair 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

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