The rest was good. Deep in confliction with the situation he found himself in. Each grazing touch between them since they meet had been like electrici...y and often met with awkwardness and hesitation. She had spirit. It was something that he couldn’t deny. Spirit and passion. He didn’t know where she worked, or even if she went to college. It all seemed so trivial; he’d seen all he needed to know in her eyes late last night. It drew him here, to be with her… to train her. To do what no one else. But now I tell you this, I was notalways a princess. I was once a boy. This is my story on how I became theroyal Sissy.I was born in the poor part of the capital. At an age where most childrenhad the latest play station and computer, my family was poor. I had nofather and my mother worked so hard to make sure that we had enough toeat. Social Services were never happy, as they thought because we had oldclothes or didn't have time to get our hair cut. But anyone who says mymother didn't love us. More

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