G3: The Girls Gardening Group

by MoeKitty

My name is Alex Beckett. I'm 10 years old, and the founder of The Girl's Gardening Group, or as we girls call it, G3. What's G3? It's a club where we girls can be free of anything to do with adults and the male gender. How did such a club come about? Well, it sort of started when I was about 3 years old....

See, I was a second born child, only a year younger than my brother. And as with a lot of households, we took baths together. And, like most girls, I was very curious why my brother had a certain.... thing between his legs, but I didn't. I pointed this out one day when we were in the bath together, and we both got curious. So we stood in front of the mirror, turned around, and bent down to look at our reflections through the mirror.

For him, I saw a little wiener-looking thing for going pee-pee, and a little hole for going poo-poo. For me, I saw the same hole for going poo-poo, but instead of the wiener thingy for going pee-pee, I just had a tiny hole for going pee-pee inside a little cleft between my legs.

Well, I was a super curious kid, you see. So that night before bed, I asked my mom, only for her to freak out. She was kind of a prude, you see, so for me to ask that kind of question to her at 3 years old... kinda scares a grown woman like mom. She just told me that boys and girls are different like that, put me in my PJs, and sent me to bed.

But not only was I a curious kid; I was a stubborn one. So from that night on, I stopped at nothing to get the answers from her. I bothered her at every possible opportunity to get the answers, and even went to my dad, though he feigned ignorance himself. Looking back, I feel really stupid for believing him, but since I was a naïve child, I did, leaving mom my solitary target for answers.

I wanted to know so badly, I was even willing to give up every present I would be getting on my 4th birthday to know the facts. Yes! I was even willing to sacrifice the Purple Pony tricycle that EVERY little girl wanted for their birthdays just to know why boys had wieners and girls didn't. And I was just lucky enough to get both!

"You're never going to leave me in peace until I tell you, will you?" My mother groaned that night.

"Nope, nope, nope!" I replied. And so she did it. She told me EVERYTHING I could possibly want to know.

"Alright, sit down. This is going to be a long night." Mom sighed. "So... first. The 'wiener,' as you call it, is really called a penis, and it's something that only boys have. Girls like us have what's called a vagina, that only we can have."

"Is that the thing that we go pee-pee from?" I asked.

"No, it's just below your peehole, between your legs." Mom answered, and to her great reluctance, took off her pants and panties, opening her folds to reveal a large hole, stretched out from giving birth to two kids.

I don't remember everything that happened from that point on, but it's not that important; what is important is that, from 7:00 pm to 1:00 in the morning, I asked mom countless questions, which she answered with no further hesitation.

I was astonished at all the things she told me. When a child is young, the world can look very, very small to them; for many, myself included, it can seem like they and their families are one of the few things that truly exist. And the more they know about the world around them, the more they know about things like the 'facts of life,' the bigger their perspective becomes. So of course, I'm just turning 4 years old, and so all these answers make my world feel indescribably huge. But despite being overwhelmed at the mere feeling of such openness, I kept on asking questions, and mom kept answering them, opening it up more.

I even learned about the bad and the worst of sexuality, such as abuse and rape, though only because our conversation just happened to turn onto those topics. These words my mother spoke stand out to me though;

"I didn't tell you about rape because I want you to be scared; I did it because I want you to be aware of it."

However, that didn't mean that I wasn't scared. In fact, the older I got, the more and more I got scared of boys. When I started school, I'd shy away from every boy I met, and even straight up refused to even speak to any of the male teachers, and it worsened even further by second grade, where I refused to make any sort of contact or communications with boys in school at all.

By the Third Grade, I had a hard time even just talking to my brother or dad, the only two boys I wasn't scared of. I'd even bailed on PE because I was one of the only 3 girls in that particular class.

By the end of Third Grade, my parents were extremely concerned, and during the second semester and the early summer vacation, I'd been sent to therapy to alleviate the problem, which was met with little to no success. Heck, from what I heard, I'd even driven the therapist out of the job!

So, with no other alternative, my parents sent me to an all-girls boarding school, checking, double checking, and quadruple checking to ensure that there weren't even any male teachers.

And so here I am now at Blackwell Academy, a large city of a boarding school, where the male gender is completely non-existent, and I've made more friends than I've ever made in my life, all of whom in a club that I started; the Girl's Garden Group: G3.

But you're probably still wondering: how did G3 come to be? Well... Next time!