Our TG Captionpage 6
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“You’ve always been female.”
“I’ve always been...female...” you say with a sigh. Of course you’ve always been female, but finally the memories come flooding back and your head starts not to hurt so much. You remember your first Barbie doll. Your first time kissing a boy. Playing soccer. Shopping with mom. Your blue prom dress. Your sorority sisters. Everything now is just...remembered. Why couldn’t you remember it just a moment ago? Oh well, it doesn’t matter now. But your head still hurts a little bit...
“Your name is Nicolette Danica George.”
“Nicolette Danica George...” you repeat as the memories of that name return with the tingle that comes when saying one’s full name. You can’t believe you forgot it! You were named after your great-grandmother, after all, and you always loved your name. Your head also finally stops throbbing. Things felt weird just a moment ago, but now you know who you are again.
“Nod if you feel good, Nicolette.”
You nod.
“Superb. Now just one thing: you’re a tomboy.
“A tomboy?” You quickly ask. All in all, you are pretty feminine. Sure you played soccer, but you dressed femininely and loved traditional feminine things and obsessed over boys. You weren’t a walking girly girl, but you weren’t a tomboy.
The man, appearing frustrated, swings his pendulum even faster and takes a few steps closer.
“Listen to me,” he growls while your will falters immediately. “You are a tomboy.”
“I-I’m a t-tomboy?”
“Yes. You are a tomboy.”
“I’m...a tomboy...” you admit, an edge now in your voice. Your hair was now in a ponytail and you had on a tank top and green jeans.
“You’re a tomboy.”
“I’m a tomboy...” you say once more. You were never, ever girly. All of your friends were guys (though you did fuck them sometimes) and you were an all-state soccer star in high school and played in college.
“You’re a tough girl.”
“I’m a tough girl,” you say with a smirk.Your disposition was anything BUT sunny. You were rugged and fierce and independent. People would call you a bitch, but that’s too feminine of a word: most settled on asshole. Even your boyfriend Zeke jokes that you are a colossal douchebag, but you love him because he’s tough like you and has a good heart.
“You go only by Nick.”
“I go ONLY by Nick,” you assert. Nicolette sounded like the name of a dumb princess. Nick was far more suited to you. You’ve never gone by Nicolette since you were little!
With the change completed, you are released from trance in an angry daze.
“Who the fuck are you?” You ask the man.
“I’ve always been...female...” you say with a sigh. Of course you’ve always been female, but finally the memories come flooding back and your head starts not to hurt so much. You remember your first Barbie doll. Your first time kissing a boy. Playing soccer. Shopping with mom. Your blue prom dress. Your sorority sisters. Everything now is just...remembered. Why couldn’t you remember it just a moment ago? Oh well, it doesn’t matter now. But your head still hurts a little bit...
“Your name is Nicolette Danica George.”
“Nicolette Danica George...” you repeat as the memories of that name return with the tingle that comes when saying one’s full name. You can’t believe you forgot it! You were named after your great-grandmother, after all, and you always loved your name. Your head also finally stops throbbing. Things felt weird just a moment ago, but now you know who you are again.
“Nod if you feel good, Nicolette.”
You nod.
“Superb. Now just one thing: you’re a tomboy.
“A tomboy?” You quickly ask. All in all, you are pretty feminine. Sure you played soccer, but you dressed femininely and loved traditional feminine things and obsessed over boys. You weren’t a walking girly girl, but you weren’t a tomboy.
The man, appearing frustrated, swings his pendulum even faster and takes a few steps closer.
“Listen to me,” he growls while your will falters immediately. “You are a tomboy.”
“I-I’m a t-tomboy?”
“Yes. You are a tomboy.”
“I’m...a tomboy...” you admit, an edge now in your voice. Your hair was now in a ponytail and you had on a tank top and green jeans.
“You’re a tomboy.”
“I’m a tomboy...” you say once more. You were never, ever girly. All of your friends were guys (though you did fuck them sometimes) and you were an all-state soccer star in high school and played in college.
“You’re a tough girl.”
“I’m a tough girl,” you say with a smirk.Your disposition was anything BUT sunny. You were rugged and fierce and independent. People would call you a bitch, but that’s too feminine of a word: most settled on asshole. Even your boyfriend Zeke jokes that you are a colossal douchebag, but you love him because he’s tough like you and has a good heart.
“You go only by Nick.”
“I go ONLY by Nick,” you assert. Nicolette sounded like the name of a dumb princess. Nick was far more suited to you. You’ve never gone by Nicolette since you were little!
With the change completed, you are released from trance in an angry daze.
“Who the fuck are you?” You ask the man.
What now?
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