..Except rubbing it didn't help; it got worse. Her skirt was in the way. She peeked around the column again, and let her hand slip up under her skirt....er panties were damp. God, was she leaking? Was she starting again already? She hadn't settled down to a regular cycle, yet.What was that smell? It was animal, penetrating. Her fingers came out slimy, but thank heavens, not bloody. She sniffed them and went brick red. She was going to smell like that for the rest of the day! Maybe if she let her. " No," Mom said, surprising me. "If you spent most or all of your savingson girl clothes, you'd feel even more invested in this... questionabledecision, and less willing to consider changing back because you mightfeel you don't want to waste all that money. So I'm paying for them.Besides, who is going to see it?" Nobody," I insisted. "But *I'll* know I'm wearing it." Supposedly,from the stories I'd read -- mostly online fiction about trans girls,but also some real accounts from trans women. More

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