Chapter 1

They call me Charlie and my sibling is Glen, but then you look back at the title and think: "What?"

I'm Charlene and she is my twin Glenda, who was born 10 minutes ahead of me. I'll try to bring you up to speed on a most unusual autobiography.

My father was always thinking, devising, scheming, anything to gain an edge in any endeavor he was trying. Don't get me wrong. He wasn't a thief, or a criminal of any kind, per se. But he did violate the law when it came to protecting his secret, and eventually his children's secret. It was too important.

Doctors are really NOT professionals when it comes to new situations. They just have more medical experience. Maybe that's why they call it: medical practice! (It's the same with lawyers, and that's what my father was.)

When the doctor was delivering his first set of twins, he didn't know that dad had selected him very very carefully. He had bills, schooling debts, a new family of his own, and a few other interesting dossier notes, not fair to even mention, now.

While dad knew he was a rarity in over 20,000 births, he foresaw the possibility that his twins could possibly be a rarity of 1 in a half billion!

Ofcourse, due to the fact that dad was one himself and our mother was one to 'split the egg', as the saying goes among medica Americana, (there were several sets of identical twins in her family tree) he worried about the trauma of medical study on his kids, as well as the enormous emotional struggles we might have to face in childhood and adolescence.

The doctor didn't mind the extra money he was going to receive for performing the deliveries at our home instead of a hospital, but he wasn't permitted any nurses. That job was ably handled by dad himself.

The room had been prepped long in advance was it was pretty well stocked, medically speaking.

The births went remarkably smoothly. My sibling was first, and you really can't blame the doctor for saying, "It's a boy," as he needed to attend to me.

As I slid into the world, the doctor knew there were no others, so he had time to examine me a bit more closely, saying, "It's also a boy... WAIT! What's this? OHMYGOD! I don't... " He cut himself off when he realized that nothing he could say would come out right!

The doctor handed me to my mother to grab back my sibling to confirm that we both were hermaphrodites!

Then my father spoke, "Nice job, doc! You delivered my twin daughters without a hitch. DAUGHTERS doctor, that is what your report will say or THIS report will become public!"

The doctor perused the paper my father showed him which placed him at the scene of three college abortions, none of which were ever reported officially. That and several other side jobs, such as pill supply and the like, and the doctor's already white skin turned even whiter.

My father said to him, "I know you don't have any money, pal. What I'm looking to trade is your silence about my daughters, there. With female hormones, if necessary, they can grow in relatively normal conditions, and you can have a side practice as our family OBS/GYN. To sweeten the pot, I'll pay up all your college bills! I don't think THIS even begins to be as serious as your past peccadilloes, so what do you say?"

What COULD he say? My father had him. That's why he was chosen (for his vulnerability). I hate to think what might've happened had he not agreed, but dad had everything planned.

The doctor was only mildly shocked that he was the OBS/GYN for all four of us! Mother was the only one without a penis, but we ALL had vaginas!

Our early years were, ofcourse, sheltered. But our parents were very capable of teaching us anything. Dad practiced law and was very successful. Mom was ours all the time, a rarity among today's women, able to perform as a housewife, run a few computer businesses, and see to it that her children had an advantage by the time they were ready for school.

We both tested well ahead of today's traditional learning curves, and were given accelerated classes.

I became the first to rebel. We had few friends, and acceptance among peers is paramount for a child's psyche. I wanted to play with the other kids.

We had long been taught about our sexual speciality so it was no big deal when both our parents felt the need to reinforce this next salient point: We could only play with our friends when we wore pants, and no matter what ANYONE said, grownup or child, we were never to expose our genitalia to anyone outside the family. On those conditions, we could join our young friends, at play.

Despite the female hormones, I became a tomboy, good at sports of all kinds, and while my twin sister had the same skill levels, she never displayed the same enthusiasm as I did.

Dad saw a danger immediately and spoke to us about it, one night; "Charlie, I know you like sports, but you may have an unfair advantage over the other girls which, if you get a sports scholarship, will cause you to have to submit for examination, thus exposing our secret. I may be able to screen you through high school with our doctor, but you would never be a part of a team if you don't share the locker room with them, and if you did, they'd scream and run from you like the plague."

After taking a deep breath, and upon seeing tears form in my eyes, dad took mom's hand in his and continued, "I KNOW this hurts you, but you can play and be as good as you want on the outside, but you must not go out for school sports. Do you understand why?"

Glen spoke up, "She understands. She just likes to be on top. No sweat, dad."

Dad nodded toward me, "And you?"

I hugged mom and said bitterly, "Yes. I understand that you just ended my career, and about a year's worth of dreams. Thanks dad!" Then I wept openly in my mother's arms.

We were only nine. Dad had mistimed his warning. He spoke haltingly, "I'm very sorry I didn't pull you aside, earlier, but I'm new at this game, too. When is bad news ever a good time to receive? You'll grow to understand that I broke your heart as soon as I thought you could understand. Every month longer I might have waited, would've made it that much worse."

He was right, ofcourse, and before long, the lack of sporting ambition actually showed in my performance.

Now, you may be thinking, "If the father is one, then why didn't he touch his girls, or make them boys?"

Well, he chose, or rather male hormones were chosen FOR Him, and despite having a rare insight into the feminine side, dad wasn't incestuous, even as we became hot little teenage replicants of the woman with whom he chose to share his life! He also felt that this condition would be less traumatic on females, who by nature are more sexually mature.

But like all teenagers, male or female, especially when the ego and super ego have been suppressed, the id starts working like an overactive pituitary.

When children of the opposite sex grow up, parents must separate them in order to strengthen their sense of modesty.

Ironically, because we were both "hermie", mom and dad didn't see the need to separate US, but just as boys have a feminine side, so do girls have a masculine side, and with us, the id turned those switches on and off, seemingly at random.

So, one steamy night, we discovered masturbation, and we had two sets of toys!

Even with female hormones, the penis gets hard for physiological reasons: blood engorging it during mental stimulation, and ofcourse, 'morning wood'. We peed through our penises, which might have been the biggest blessing to come from all this.

At first, I was content with rubbing my clit while my penis erected. Later, Glen saw me enjoying it and the thrill of the unknown overtook her, too.

It didn't take very long for us to realize that we could do much better, touching each other!

Two weeks shy of our fourteenth birthday, while we were playing with each other, I placed my penis into Glen's mouth while I diddled her clit, but it was an awkward position. This gave way to our discovery of that wonderful sixty-nine position, and Glen dipped her penis into my mouth at the same time.