And all the time, I'm thinking, "You're making yourself a fag." I didn'tcare. The only time I stopped was when he started to shoot, and I pulledmy h...nd away. It squirted a lot, all over the floor. "You're cool," hetold me, and walked out. I washed my hands in the sink there for a long time that day. Icouldn't quit thinking about it, how it felt in my hand. And wondering ifMike's Dad looked like that. And feeling sick. I went a couple of days without whacking off. I just felt so badabout. I'm sure she was not upbeat when she told him that he could followthe psychiatrist's recommendations until their next appointment, but shemade it clear that he could.My brother came into my room after that and told me what she said. Ihugged and I told him that everything would be okay. He smiled at me; itwas a half smile though. I could sense his despondency about even wantingto put on a dress again after what my mother had put him through.As I pulled out outfits from my closet to entice him to. More

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