Brian lay on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, her mind swimming with various tidbits of information. After a moment, she ran a hand through her damp her, traced it down over the t-shirt she was wearing, stopping when she reached the pink pyjama bottoms, her mind finally settling on the information that it had been about two weeks since her last menstruation.
Reaching over, Brian picked up the diary she had been reading, knowing for some reason the information that had been printed inside. As she rolled over so that she was lying on her stomach, she thought about putting on a bra and a pair of underwear, but then dismissed the idea because she was comfortable with the way she was currently dressed and instead turned her attention to the diary.
But the information contained inside would not, not could not, hold her attention and flipping the diary closed, Brian huffed, "I already know all of this," as she stood and moved across the room, standing before the mirror.
Looking at the reflection, Brian experienced that moment of confusion once again. One part of his mind told him that she was a sixteen year old male named Brian. But another told her that this was ridiculous and that she was a sixteen year old girl named Aimee. "I mean," she thought. "The proof on who I am is right in front of me. I can see it. Touch it." she ran a hand over her body. "I can smell it." She breathed deeply the smell of the body wash and shampoo she had used. "And I have all the right memories."
Turning away, she sat down on her bed, her hands clenched together between her legs, pressing into her crotch and thighs. After a moment, she voiced aloud the question that had been bothering her.
"So why is it that I feel so conflicted?"
Standing, she began pacing back and forth, stopping every now and again to ask herself question that only a girl would know, coming up with answers instantly. Shaking her head at this tactic, she flopped down on the bed and staring back at ceiling, she thought about it a moment and standing, she started pacing once again, this time asking herself question she was sure only a boy would know.
After a half hour of this, a getting nowhere because she found she was unable to answer the question she posed, Aimee/Brian flopped back down on the bed and staring at the alarm clock, noting the time was around two thirteen, she looked back up at the ceiling, her mind in a right state.
After a moment, she rolled over and curled up into a fetal position. Lying on her side, staring at nothing in particular, Aimee/Brian wondered why she was so desperately attempting to hold onto the notion that she was some boy named Brian. Reaching over, she grabbed ahold of the comforter and top sheet and shifting about, she slid beneath it, still curled up in the fetal position, now staring at the underside of her top sheet.
Confusion welled up and suddenly she wanted to cry, torn between the idea that she was actually a boy, but knowing this to be untrue and that she was a girl; she was happy as a girl; and that she certainly did not want to be a boy.
Shifting, she uncurled and lying on her side, she traced the outline of her breast, stopping when she arrived at the erect nipples, which were easily seen through the shirt. Tracing downward, she placed her hand betwixt her legs, tracing the area where her vulva was, being as gentle as possible, lest she found herself suddenly aroused.
Taking her hand from between her legs, she ran it over her arms, liking the soft feeling of her skin. Shifting again, her mind racing through memory after memory of growing up female, she yawned as she felt herself starting to drowse.
"Maybe I should go down and talk to mom," Aimee/Brian thought, but then shrugged it off.
Her thoughts becoming more and more muddled, Aimee/Brian found the drowsy feeling increasing as she lay under the sheet and comforter, warm and comfortable. Wanting to shift, she decided against it and as her thoughts drifted in new directions, Aimee found herself falling asleep. Not wanting to fight this feeling, she closed her eyes and within moments, she was breathing deeply and quietly as sleep over took her.