A finalcheck in the mirror said I was good to go.Mom gave me one of her looks when I bounded down the stairs. "You're goinglike that?" she asked."Yeah..." I replied. "It's my new look."She sighed. "Well at least your hair looks nice."We arrived at school ahead of schedule, which forced us to wait in theoffice area until the registrar could see us. Mom clutched the largemanila envelope she'd been given at the hospital. It contained my newlymanufactured history. There was my birth certificate. We’ll ask her to live here. I wonder how that would go. She could get wound up sometimes, but she had always been fair with me.In the back of my head, too, was the pornographic image of her grandson’s dick spurting in her mouth. I want to feel that, too, after all the years of wishing for it and her acceptance when I told her. I decided to wait to bring any future plans up. She might even broach the subject after she began treatment.I heard them calling me. I opened the door and they asked me. More

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