A story about a family with two boys aged 10 and 13, in which choice is a delusion and gender, an illusion. It’s a familiar theme in the TG literature, but this time with an unfamiliar twist. Blair’s life has become more complicated now that he’s joined the Breakers, a girl’s soccer team and Big Al, the coach’s daughter, has decided that he’s the girl she wants to marry. Big Al also turns out to be Kirk’s ideal female (and mate?).

Chapter 8 A lesbian’s choice

For a month the tension had been tightening like a corset on a fifty-year-old drag queen. At school, Miss Umbridge was taking increasing umbrage at the failure of sarcasm, ridicule, petty punishments and after-school detentions to drive Blair to distraction or, better yet, from the school. Moreover, the kid’s grades refused to fall; “the pervert” was heading towards success. After three weeks, she wised up to the fact that the detentions actually protected Blair from its (the pronoun Umbridge used) fellow students.

So the teacher, after making a grand gesture of “forgiveness” one day by ending the detention regime, tried to ruin Blair’s life the next. Her excuse was the Amethyst and silver pinky ring that Blair wore to class for the first time. It had been a gift from Big Al, a token of their “going steady,” and enough of Blair’s classmates believed his story that he had found a girlfriend on a mixed-gender soccer team in Washington State that the ring at first did his reputation more good than harm. Though cynics and skeptics wondered why Blair had gone across the Columbia to find a soccer team when there were plenty nearby, the credulous bought his explanation that, “I had to go to another State to find a team bad enough for me. Everyone knows I’ve got two left and right feet.”

It was the ring that convinced a furious Miss Lucretia Umbridge to switch from a policy of slow attrition to one of open insinuation. Believing that Blair had violated their modus vivendi by “flaunting its deviancy” with girl’s jewelry, she was determined to find a way to “out the little bastard” in such a way that the school would become too hot for Blair to stay, yet remain cool enough for her to stay. She had no intention of losing her job because of the “brat”.

Thus, she dared not finger “the brat” as a crossdresser, a topic that the school psychologist had declared verboten until he had a chance in the (never-never) future to rule on whether or not Blair had a mental disease. She therefore decided to lecture to her charges on the subject of homosexuality. She knew where she stood with “the fags”: They had to be treated as sacrosanct. If she dared to criticize them, then she’d be the one suspended or discharged for being infected with homophobia. Consequently, she schemed to draw attention to Blair as a probable homosexual while condemning gays with faint praise.

She started by making a plea for tolerance for gays and lesbians “as for all God’s creatures.” Sure, the four-percenters made sex in a different way than the ninety-six percent who constituted the “vast majority of Americans”, but deviations from the norm were to be expected in any group of animals, among whom she placed the primate apes.

She then explained in graphic, almost pornographic detail the sexual practices of gays and lesbians. Ten- and eleven-year-olds, who couldn’t even handle a frank discussion of their own body parts, never mind masturbation, were grossed out (it was like eating live, wriggling worms!) to be told that “fellatio” was the act of one male “submissively receiving fluid directly from the pee-hole of another male”.

As for lesbian sex, the boys were mightily upset to learn that “dykes” liked to hump each other with “dildos” (a new word for about half of them) about four times as wide and four times as long as their own manstick. This information called into question their own capacity to please any woman.

One boy timidly asked why lesbians were called “dykes”. Did the name have anything to do with Holland? Possibly with wooden shoes? Were they the original dildos? (Any girl with any imagination shivered at that image.) Miss Umbridge put few minds at ease by saying that the word “dyke” probably derived from “hermaphrodite”. By the time she had explained what that was, most of the kids had concluded that dykes had dicks. Sally Hamwich knew that wasn’t true, but she kept silent.

If they weren’t unsettled enough (the detailed discussion of anal sex had already sent two pupils to the washroom to avoid upchucking on their desk), the children were further rattled by being told that homosexuals were exactly like other males and females in their dating and mating patterns: Thus, lesbians waited to be asked out on a date, which made it difficult for them ever to connect; and gay males, being just as randy as heterosexual males, played a more aggressive role — indeed, they would make a pass at any male (hide away your pets, kids) they thought might be available, and even some males who were not.

But don’t worry, Miss Umbridge explained to the boys in order to ease their alarm, gays are just as likely to accept “no” as an answer from a naked boy who doesn’t like being propositioned in the shower as heterosexual males are to accept “no” from a naked girl standing beside them in the shower.

“Boys and girls, don’t believe those prison movies,” she advised, “Gay rape is uncommon; it certainly doesn’t happen every day. And lesbians know that it’s just as illegal to invade the private, vulnerable parts of an unwilling girl with a painfully enormous dildo as it is with their hands or tongue.”

A frail, pretty little boy then asked, his voice quavering: “You say that homosexuals act a lot like regular girls and guys. Do they somehow look different? Does a gay male have, for example, slanty eyes like an Oriental dude?”

“Stephen, you shouldn’t use that term,” lectured Miss Umbridge; “only bigots use that word now. The correct word is Asian. And no, it’s a sign of prejudice to believe that gays and lesbians look different than you and me. Homosexual males don’t necessarily look effeminate; nor do lesbians necessarily look masculine. It’s an Old Husband’s Tale to believe that they always do.”

“So how do they find each other,” asked Rachel, “if they don’t look at all different from normal people? I mean they’re going to get their faces slapped a lot of times if they can’t tell the difference between a girl like me and a lesbian.” Rachel then smiled at several males in rapid succession to alert them that she, at least, was available.

“Rachel, homosexuals find each other through something called gaydar.”

Several called out for an explanation. She had their rapt attention now. Jason Harper was even taking notes. “If you meet someone of the same sex in the school corridor and they gaze into your eyes long enough to force you to avert your eyes in discomfort, that person is gay and is sending out the gaydar waves — just like radar does. If you look away, then the homosexual knows you’re not gay and then stares into the eyes of the person behind you. However, if you don’t lower your eyes or if you detect the stare faster than you should, then you’ve bounced back the gaydar like radar waves from a military target. Word quickly goes around the community, and from then on all the gays or lesbians know that you’re one of them, and one after another they’ll attempt a “bombing run” on you until you’ve become a “mission accomplished.”

Blair finally took the bait: “Are you saying that it’s somehow dangerous for boys to look other boys in the eyes; and girls, other girls? How are we supposed to make any friends? If a kid doesn’t look me straight in the eye, he’s shifty-eyed and I don’t trust him.”

The teacher pounced:

Of course boys can look each other in the eyes and girls can do the same. But if you exchange lingering glances, then you’re sending out and bouncing back the gaydar. Blair, you’re going to find that gay males will be constantly trying to pick you up because, as I have noticed, you tend to stare into the eyes of males long enough for them to look away in confusion or disgust. Your staring is an innocent habit, I’m sure, in one so young, but you should turn down the gaydar when you look at other boys, unless you are gay and want to advertise your sexual availability. Of course, I have no right to ask you whether you are gay or whether you’re lusting after any or all of the other boys here. After all, this school has a policy of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’. But if you are gay, I am sure that it wouldn’t matter to anyone in this class, for we honor diversity in this community. There are no bigots here. If Blair were to tell us that he’s gay, we’d all applaud his honesty and courage. Right, class?”

Everyone looked in his direction. Blair shook his head: “I’m not gay,” he mumbled.

“Of course you’re not, Blair. Not that it matters to any of us. If you’re not gay, I do advise changing the way you look at boys. You should look at them in the same indifferent way that you look at girls.”

Jason asked, with pen poised: “I’ve heard that it’s gay to wear for a dude to wear an earring on his right ear. Is that always true? And what about hankies in the back pocket?”

After briefly explaining how some gay males advertised their sexual preferences by putting a colored handkerchief or teddy bear in the rear pocket of their jeans, Miss Umbridge confirmed that it was “very gay indeed” to wear studs or earrings on the right ear or on both ears.”

At this, Blair and several other boys hid their ears in their hands — to no avail, of course. With the coffin lid already being nailed shut around Blair’s reputation, Miss Umbridge finished her little chat on the need to identify and befriend lesbians and gays by saying, “Of course, I’ve found that there is, among gay males at least, the jewelry equivalent of the cross for Christians or the Star of David for Jews. A gay male will wear this as the ultimate form of gaydar.”

“What is it, Miss?” begged Linda Haskins.

“It’s a pinky ring, of course; especially one with a gemstone.”

Miss Umbridge waited ten minutes to calm the ensuing uproar. Everyone was pointing at, jeering at, laughing at, shouting at, snarling at … Blair. His teacher made no attempt to control their language. Openly reviled as a “homo” and “fairy” (the boy-girl was in Umbridge’s opinion something far worse), Blair would, she hoped, run tearfully out of the classroom. As soon as “it” made that mistake, Miss Umbridge planned to take “the creature” directly to the Principal and to insist that “it” be transferred to another school since “its” homosexuality had somehow become common knowledge” and, despite her best efforts to preach tolerance, the classroom had become too hostile an environment for Blair to continue useful studies.

The scheme might have worked; but Blair refused to budge. He figured the only hope that he had to convince anyone that he wasn’t gay was to “take the crap like a man”. When things had calmed down, he planned to ask, “If I’m a fairy, then why didn’t I run when Bob Oates threatened to punch me out — right there in Umbridge’s class?”

For some other boy, an exchange of fisticuffs with Bob Oates might have sufficed to salvage his reputation, but Blair had long been considered the biggest sissy in the fifth grade. He wasn’t going to get off lightly with a bloodied nose. A lot of students had sensed there was something “queer” about Blair well before he started wearing panties to school. Now they “knew” he wasn’t one of them. From that class onward Blair dared not use the boys’ washroom or walk on the school campus whenever there were other students about. He headed off to school earlier and earlier, and returned later and later with each passing day. And he learned to avoid liquids.

Naturally, Blair looked to Kirk to protect him in the schoolyard. (There was nothing that Kirk could do about the verbal insults and lewd pictures in the boys’ washroom.) As Kirk got into one fight after another trying to force someone to take back his insults or to stop pummeling Blair, Kirk became as tightly wound as a training bra wrapped around D-cup breasts. The girls in grade seven were especially unsettling to Kirk’s equipoise, since they enjoyed seeing him react to their observation that “gayness runs in families”.

To unwind, Kirk walloped Blair. As usual, the two siblings were squabbling over Big Al. Blair keenly resented that Kirk and Big Al seemed to have more in common than either teen had with him. Even though Big Al was still smitten with Blair, she spent almost as much time with Kirk who shared Al’s enthusiasm for performance automobiles, contact sports, new technologies, heavy metal bands and rock climbing. Blair, feeling excluded, accused Kirk of “trying to steal my friend. Big Al was my friend first. You have no right to take her away from me.”

Usually Kirk simply ignored Blair’s whining, but this time it got to him: “Blair, you need to get real. Big Al isn’t a friend of the real you. The only reason Alicia likes you is that she thinks you’re a girl. She’d never be your friend if she knew about your ding-a-ling. In fact, she’d despise you.”

That did it! Blair threw himself at Kirk, slapping Kirk’s cheeks, scratching Kirk’s face with his lacquered nails, and pulling his hair out. (Blair found a brush cut didn’t yield easily.)

“Fighting like a girl, are you? Well, I fight like a guy,” shouted Kirk as he threw two punches, first a left jab that split Blair’s lip and then a right hook that blackened Blair’s eye. As angry as a wet cat, Blair went for Kirk’s eyes. Fortunately, Maggie broke up the fight before any permanent damage had been done. Both children were punished — Kirk more than Blair because a boy should never hit a girl, even his sister.

Seeing the futility of riposting that Blair wasn’t in fact a girl, Kirk stoically accepted exile to his room while Blair endured no more than a tongue-lashing as Maggie soothed his wounds with salve. Kirk, lying atop his bed, eyes riveted to a crack in the ceiling, benefited from his extended timeout: It gave him some time alone, away from his bratty sister, to come up with a plan to avoid total annihilation by Big Al, who was bound to come looking for him once the big bruiser had seen Blair’s black eye.

When Maggie came to his room to end his punishment, Kirk vented:

Maggie, all you think about is Blair. You don’t care about me. You don’t want to know what a hell school has become for me because of ‘little sister’. While no one seems to know about the crossdressing, the whole effin’ place believes Blair is a homo. Some of the kids think I must be one too — like it's contagious. I’m in one fight after another because of Blair. You promised to get Blair out of Lewis A. Clark if I helped you transform the sissy into my sister. Well, it’s been weeks since Blair has worn boys’ clothes. So when is she going to transfer to another school like you promised?”

“Soon, honey, as soon as I’m sure that Blair actually wants to be a girl. Until then I can’t administer your sister the female hormones that she will need in order to pass daily inspection as a schoolgirl.”

“Why don’t you start Blair on the feminine hormones now? They don’t work overnight, do they? Yeah, that’s what I thought. So Blair could take the hormones for a while, couldn’t she, without growing giant boobs or something else that she couldn’t hide under a loose sweatshirt?”

“Well, yes …”

“Don’t you think, Maggie, that if Blair’s body gets filled up with female atoms and mol’cules, then Blair’s brain will start telling her that she’s a real girl? Then she’ll be thrilled to lose her balls and dick.”

“It’s not quite as easy as that. Yet you’ve given me food for thought. I bet the Internet could tell us where to find a mild, slow-acting hormonal treatment for Blair that will render her mind so female that she actually will insist on the body modification she needs to pass muster in a girls’ shower room.”

“No worries, Maggie. I can find the right website, ‘cause Blair taught me how to surf the Net. But before I start hunting I want your promise that if I can find some hormones that will totally fem’nize Blair’s brain without her growing giant tits, that you’ll ‘mediately start feeding ‘em to her.”

It took a little more wheedling, but Kirk eventually got the assurances he sought. He then began surfing with so much zeal you’d think he was a teenaged boy looking for a nude image of Hannah Montana.

The day after this victory, Kirk suffered a painful setback when Big Al gave him two black eyes as punishment for hitting Blair. However, Kirk staved off complete disaster by reminding Big Al of their many interests in common. Kirk thus remained inside Big Al’s friendship circle, albeit farther from its center. It was fortunate that these two lugs were able to repair their relationship, for otherwise Big Al might have stormed out of Blair’s life forever a week later.

The storm that threatened to uproot Blair’s friendship with Big Al and bring it crashing down like an exposed elm on a coastal bluff had its origins in Big Al’s understandable curiosity about the finer, more naked, less visible parts of the body that had so captured her fancy. While it was obvious that Blair still had the boyish physique of a young girl, Big Al wondered whether Blair’s bosom had begun to blossom and whether her darling’s groin remained as hairless as her armpits.

Big Al was no longer willing to wait to discover how far Blair had journeyed towards puberty and menarche. Deep down, she hoped that the younger girl hadn’t even begun the transition, for Big Al could then share and record every moment of her beloved’s passage to womanhood. That hope probably underlay Alicia’s initial attraction to a girl who looked prepubescent.

It wasn’t going to be easy, Big Al discovered, to see Blair in the buff, because Blair was abnormally shy around other females. Far from being willing to strip out of her bra and down to her panties in front of Big Al, as most of her girlfriends did when they were trying on or exchanging clothes or seeking an appraisal of their breast development, Blair behaved as modestly as a girl forced to change into a bathing suit in a men’s locker room. Only once had Big Al even caught a glimpse of Blair’s belly (delightfully flat with an innie).

Big Al finally surrendered to curiosity — or was it plain lust? — when she noticed that Blair had accidentally left the bathroom door ajar while showering. Half-inch by half-inch Al widened the gap until she could see Blair standing at one end of the bathtub below the showerhead. There wasn’t much to see, other than flesh tones, as long as Blair stood behind the shower curtain; but Big Al could hope to see more, as the curtain had been drawn only halfway along the tub. In fact, as Blair soaped “herself”, “she” occasionally backed away from the steam and rain of water, at which time the back half of her pink bubble butt came into full, intoxicating view.

Surrendering to Blair’s allure, Big Al thrust her right hand inside her own jeans, and then inside her gray cotton boy-leg panties. Just as Al’s fingers had gained their objective, Blair, “her” back turned towards the wall and away from the door, stepped out from behind the shower curtain and completely into view. The sight of Blair naked from the back nape of the neck to the back heels of the feet had an instantaneous effect: The entire body of Big Al shook as she moaned in ecstasy from the first genuine orgasm of her life.

Big Al was still shaking, still moaning, still orgasmic when Blair, still not realizing (thanks to the shower’s roar) that he was being observed, did a 180-degree turn to examine himself in a mirror as he soaped his privates. There wasn’t however, anywhere near enough soap to hide the self-evident: that Big Al, a self-identified lesbian, had just experienced her first orgasm by ogling a boy. Shocked, angry and confused, Big Al noisily stamped down the stairs, her right fist occasionally punching the wall, as she headed for the front door exit muttering, “I gotta get far away from that little turd or I’ll be hung for killing him.”

Kirk caught up with Big Al as the girl briefly stopped to pull up her hoodie for protection against the pelting rain: “Al, what’s wrong? Why the rush? Aren’t you friend enough to say goodbye?”

Big Al turned on him: “Some friend you are! Would a friend let me make a fool of myself by chasin’ after Blair? Come on, Kirk, you know I’m a dyke; so why didn’t yah tell me not to waste my time on a phony girl like Blair.”

“A phony girl? Blair? What makes you say something so retarded?”

“Still playing me for a fool, are you? Look, Kirk the jerk, I just saw Blair stark nekkid in the shower — from the front! I saw everything the kid has on offer and I’m not buyin’. So don’t try tellin’ me that Blair’s a girl with an extra big clitoris and two tumors. In fact, don’t bother tellin’ me nothing. I’m outta here. I never want to see neither of you dickheads ever again. Tell that little bastard that he better never come near the Breakers again. If he does, I’ll tell his ex-teammates the revoltin’ truth about him, meaning that they’ll be wantin’ to break his arms and legs.”

Kirk grabbed hold of her: “You don’t understand. If you knew the truth about Blair, then you’d still be her friend.”

“Let me go, I tell yah. You can’t fool me by usin’ the female pronoun. I know the truth about Blair and the truth has set me free.” Then, with an almost casual shift of her shoulders she threw Kirk to the ground. She’d almost reached the street before he next caught up to her. This time he tackled her from the rear, his momentum bringing her down; lying on top of her back, short of breath, Kirk gasped, “You’ve … got to hear … me out.”

Big Al would have none of it. She escaped from Kirk’s hold with lightning ease. He ended up supine, arms pinned, Big Al sitting on his groin. Her physical superiority proven easily, almost disdainfully, there didn’t seem to be anything to bar her departure. However, indecision overcame her; she made not a move. Then, a decision made, her knees eased their grip on his torso; her hands, on his wrists. Her weight subtly shifted and Kirk, sensing an unexpected opening, overthrew Big Al with a sudden, upward, almost erotic thrust of his pelvis. Now Kirk sat triumphantly atop her abdomen, his arms pinning hers, his head lowered so that his face was in her face.

“Now, you’ll listen.” And Big Al did. She made no attempt to free herself as Kirk explained that Blair was a transsexual who hadn’t worn a stitch of boys’ wear in several weeks:

She’s not been trying to trick you. Blair really is a girl in her own head and Maggie wants her to have a girl’s body before Christmas — that means everything but a womb inside. Her not having one of those shouldn’t bother you, not if you’re really a dyke. Blair is head over heals in love with you; the little fool even tried to scratch my eyes out because she’s hung up on you. If you love Blair, you’ll stand by her and help her transition to womanhood. If the only feeling you ever had for Blair was lust, then she’d be better off without you. You can go; I’m not keeping you.”

Kirk then rolled off her, and sat on his haunches to await Big Al’s next move.

Still lying flat on her back, but with her head turned so that she could gauge Kirk’s reply, Big Al asked, “Is it true? Blair really loves me?”

Kirk nodded, gulped, and confessed:

I love you too. I’ve never met a girl like you before. You have opened my eyes to the full range of choices that girls have in life. There’s no such thing as a typical girl. Girls don’t have to be little princesses who always wear pink. They don’t have to spend most of their time worrying about their appearance. I love the way you look, the way you dress, everything about you. You even showed me that a real girl can love sports and enjoy the same things as boys. I’ll be forever grateful to you, as I suppose I should be to Blair, for teaching me that boys and girls come in every color and shape — Blair in pink satin and you in blue denim.”

“How about you, Kirk? What’s your favorite color and material? Is it ….” She bit her tongue.

“Me? The same as you. I go for blue denim and black leather. You know -- we even wear the same color of cotton underwear.”

Big Al said in mock outrage:

You pervert! You know the color of my underwear? Boy, are you wasting your time looking down my jeans. I’ll never, never sex it up with a guy like you. Until I saw Blair in the nude, I’d have said I was 100 percent lesbian. I guess in reality I’m only 98 percent lesbian ‘cause I’ve fallen in love with a dyke with a dick. But you better have told the truth — Blair better get rid of those ugly ‘pendages within a few months. Funny thing, Blair’s still being a hairless little boy means that I’ll be able to see every change her body makes on its way through puberty to being an adult woman.

Kirk bridled:

I’m not a pervert! How wouldn’t I know the color of your underwear? Your jeans droop low enough for anyone to know it. Heck, sometimes your undies are halfway down your butt. Anyway, you’re the real pervert ‘cause you’re a Peeping Tom. So you’re going to watch Blair’s body change? How are you going to that? By spying on her when she takes a shower? Now that’s perverted.

“Okay, I apologize: So your eyes didn’t sneak into my pants; but you’re really naíve if you think I’m going to be hangin’ outside the bathroom door, hopin’ to get a glimpse of Blair in the nude. No, now that I know the real reason for her ‘modesty’ around me, I intend to seduce her. After that, she and I will be able to look and touch to our hearts’ content.”

Without further ado, Kirk and Big Al reentered the Finlayson house; he went upstairs to see ‘what’s up with Blair’, while she sought out the chatelaine of the house. Big Al found Maggie with her arms half in dishwater. After a brief exchange of niceties, Al boldly announced: “Ms. Maguire, you should know that I intend to marry Blair as soon as the law allows us girls to marry each other. Blair is my ideal woman.”

Maggie coughed, cleared her throat, and then said: “At ten, Blair is a long way from her wedding day. Alicia, I am sure you’re realistic enough to know that Blair is more likely statistically to marry a man than woman. Do you have any evidence that Blair is a gay girl?”

“Gay? That I don’t know yet. But a girl, a genuine girl? I already know that Blair isn’t one.”

Maggie gave a start: “Blair not really a girl? What makes you think that? Has Kirk been joshing with you?”

“Ms. Maguire, it’s got nothing to do with Kirk. I accidentally saw Blair in the buff. I saw his … you know what.”

“And you still want to marry Blair? Have I been wrong, Alicia in supposing that you liked girls better than boys?”

“Nope. I’m definitely a lezzie, Ms. Maguire. That’s why I want to marry Blair. With a nip here, and a tuck there, I believe Blair can become the most beautiful female in the entire world. Blair is so cute. I think about her a lot whenever I’m alone.” Big Al blushed, her cheeks a fire-engine red.

With Maggie remaining silent, apparently lost in thought, Big Al plunged on: “Ms. Maguire, I can help you and Blair. Just give me one sleepover with Blair. I promise you that I will get her so turned on by the female body that she’ll insist on getting one of her own as quickly as possible. One sleepover and Blair will never think of herself as a boy again.”

Maggie after a minute’s reflection replied, “Alicia, you’re Blair’s best girlfriend. Of course, you can sleepover with Blair — as best girlfriends do — any time you want, so long as it’s not a school night. We can’t have you keeping each other up all night giggling and gossiping and then falling asleep in class. Why don’t you ask your parents if you can sleepover this coming Friday night?”

Big Al flashed a huge, winning smile: “Sure thing, Ms. Maguire. I suggest you have some feminizing pills for Blair to take on Saturday morning. After a night with me she’ll be keen on feminizin’ her body as quick as possible.”

As she had done when speaking with Kirk, Maggie gave what she thought was no more than lip service to the idea of immediately putting Blair on “feminizing pills”. It was easy, she felt, for kids to get over-enthusiastic about Blair’s transformation; they didn’t risk going to prison for messing with the body chemistry of a preteen. But was it mere lip service? Just ten days later Maggie would be insisting that Blair swallow some ‘feminizing’ herbs that Kirk had purchased off the Internet (by using Laird’s identity and credit card).

As we shall see next, It was Blair’s brief fling as a ballerina that finally convinced Maggie that it was folly to wait even one more day without trying to make “her daughter” more feminine in all the ways that truly mattered.