Double Dare 4 — Dare to be different by Maeryn Lamonte Steven’s parents have agreed to him trialling living full time as a girl. Knowing the response he’s had from the other lads at school to him just being a weedy guy, this could prove to be a tough decision, unless his new friends can come through for him.

-oOo-
“So let me get this straight... Your parents just agreed... to let you live... full time as a girl... and you’ll be coming to school... as Stephanie on Tuesday... Is that right?”

Amanda was one of those people who uses her tongue to concentrate, and since she was painting the toenails on my right foot a bright cherry red, every time she applied the varnish the tongue came out and there was a brief pause in her speech.

It was funny. I managed to suppress the urge to giggle, but couldn't help the way my body was shaking, and since the girls were each working on a hand or a foot, I earned a few dirty looks before they realised why I was laughing and joined in.

It had been a brilliant evening so far. Portia's mum had cooked us a fantastic meal, which we shared with both her parents. I was a little nervous to start with after Dad's warning about being found out, but the girls were covering for me like pros and it soon became obvious that they didn’t suspect a thing.

After the meal we watched some soppy romantic film, with me using my fair share of the tissues, then we had gone upstairs to Portia's room and listened to some of the CDs the others had brought. I have to tell you, dancing in a dress is the biz, especially when you're with a bunch of friends working out moves you can do together. We got it wrong loads, and giggled ourselves silly over our mistakes, then we started to get it right and laughed all the more. What can I say? It was great fun and I can't wait until we go out dancing for real.

Eventually the evening wore on and we all got ready for bed. I had to keep my bra and panties on to maintain my enhanced feminine figure, but that was small discomfort. Once we were all changed, Debbie suggested we give each other mani and pedicures and they all insisted that they do me first. So here I was, engulfed in layers of floaty chiffon, with my four friends working on my hands and feet like so many royal maids. It felt wonderful to be pampered like that, and even better to know that I would soon be helping to do the same for each of them in turn. For now I embraced the warm feeling of their friendship and tuned my focus to Amanda’s question.

“Yeah, pretty much. I have to see this psychologist on Monday to convince him that I’m better off as Stephanie, and once I've done that, my mum’s taking me shopping for new clothes and a new uniform in the afternoon.”

“We could set you up with some clothes, couldn’t we girls?” Jenny asked with the others nodding their agreement. “We've all got too much stuff anyway. You’ve seen Portia’s closet? Well Debbie’s and mine are about the same and Amanda’s is worse.”

“Wouldn’t your parents object to you suddenly giving me a whole bunch of your things?”

“Not if we kind of lend them to you on a sort of semi-permanent basis. It’ll mean that your Mum won't have to spend as much, or maybe you could persuade her to buy just one or two really nice things.”

“That’s really thoughtful of you guys. I’ll ask my mum and see what she says.”

“Why don’t we come round with a few things tomorrow?” This was Debbie. “Then at least you’ll have something to wear when you go and see this shrink of yours on Monday.”

“Oh!” Amanda's turn to say something. “Didn't I see Rebecca Summers in a new uniform this week? She's grown about three inches this term, so I think she must be too big for her old one. I think it'd be about the right size for you. Do you want me to ask if her mum wants to get rid of it?”

They more or less agreed everything without really consulting me, then fell to talking through each other’s wardrobes, choosing the things they were going to send my way. I felt a little out of it, only having seen Portia’s racks of dresses and things, but since this was for my benefit I let them have their fun. Portia was kind of quiet through everything, but I figured she had to be tired or something.

We chatted late into the night, experimenting with different makeup and hairstyles and generally having a great laugh. It was well into the early hours of the morning when tiredness took the first of us and I am so glad it wasn’t me, because as soon as we all noticed Debbie was asleep, we set about having some fun with her. I was given the makeup kit to work on her face and before long had used some of mascara to give her panda eyes and an an eye liner pencil to draw on a sort of curly moustache. Portia used almost an entire can of hairspray turning her hair into a Marge Simpson sort of affair — only without the blue; nothing we did was meant to be permanent — and Jenny and Amanda painted every nail of her hands and feet a different colour.

After that we all snuggled into a pile on Portia’s massive bed. The Steve in me would have loved it, but he was lost so deep inside me now I could barely feel him. I snuggled up against Jenny's back and felt a hand drape over me. A quick glance and I recognised Portia's slender fingers. I fell asleep in the soft embrace of my friends, feeling more at peace than at any time in my life.

-oOo-

“Hey you rotten jokers, what did you do to me?”

We all woke laughing and giggling at Debbie’s outrage. Portia dug out a mirror for her and soon she was laughing along with the rest of us. It was nine o’clock and we’d managed probably five or six hours sleep, still the first order of business was to undo the damage we’d done to our victim.

We were done by half past nine and all bundled down to breakfast in our night things. Portia’s mum was already up and preparing a feast for us. I tried to be a little ladylike with my eating at first, but then the other four descended on the food like a flock of gannets and I was hard pressed to keep up.

“So what are you girls doing today?” Mrs Allen trying to be polite.

“I actually have to get home by eleven. My parents are taking me out to lunch somewhere.”

“Well that’s settled then, we’ll all get ready, help you to look fabulous and walk you home. That okay, Mum?”

Portia was in an especially good mood today, but then I guess we all were. Amazing how great you can feel after a night of doing things together for and with each other.

Food finished, the five of us turned into a semi-naked mass of writhing limbs and bodies as we each took turns in the shower and on the toilet. There were times when my physical differences were very obvious, but the girls ignored them and made sure that at least one of them was on parent alert until I was fully dressed and ready for the day.

That presented a slight problem. I hadn't really thought that far ahead, and it wasn't until I was in the middle of dressing, that I realised how odd it would be for me to leave in the same party dress I'd borrowed from Portia. Fortunately my friends had my back, and each had brought something extra with me in mind. A brief huddled discussion, which didn't include me, and the girls selected a yellow sun dress Jenny had brought with her. It was maybe a little revealing, but it looked too good to resist. It had a high neck at the front which at least meant my beanbag breasts would be well covered, but no sleeves and a very short skirt. The beautiful day outside begged summer clothes, and in next to no time, the others were dressed in shorts, miniskirts, halter tops, crop tops; basically a lot of skin all round, which meant I didn't feel quite so naked.

We bundled out of the house at about half past ten and headed towards my home, arms linked and chatting and giggling so much you wouldn't have guessed we'd been been up half the night doing the same thing.

I don't think Mum and Dad were prepared for me to turn up with so much of myself on display, but since my friends were dressed much the same, they didn't feel able to comment. Since we were a little ahead of my be-home-by time, we were invited to sit out in the garden and drink some of Mum's home made lemonade. Jenny explained her earlier suggestion about clothes lending and we arranged a time later in the afternoon when the girls would bring around their offerings, along with Rebecca's old uniform if Amanda could swing it, then the girls left.

Mum and Dad's idea of the lunch was to see how I would react to being out in the big wide world dressed as a girl, and I pretty much passed with flying colours. I made sure I walked and sat as demurely as possible, keeping hidden those parts of me I definitely didn't want the world to see. The meal was nice, but I don't remember much of what I ate, being too preoccupied with the looks some of the men were giving me. When I realised it was because they were checking me out I went straight from nervous to thrilled without passing through any normal state of mind. Mundane things, like the taste of my food, did not make much of an impression in my memory compared to that.

The girls were as good as their word — of course — and by the end of the day the male clothes in my wardrobe had been replaced by a bulging mass of the most exciting colours and shapes I could imagine. The girls came up to my room and showed me all the things they'd brought, insisting that I try everything on then and there. In the end it took us so long Mum insisted they either go home or at least phone their parents to tell them they would be eating with us. They all stayed until about nine, by which time the impromptu fashion display was over, then while Dad dove them all home, I had a long, luxuriant bath and changed for bed. Jenny had left me with the floaty chifon nightdress I'd worn at the sleepover, so yet again I snuggled down to sleep feeling like the luckiest girl alive.

-oOo-

Of course fairy tales don't last in the real world and this is where mine ended.

Then next morning I was up early and washing away the last traces of Stephanie. Dressed in my usual tee-shirt and jeans, Steven came back to the fore. Oddly I didn't feel as angry or upset as I usually did and church was actually enjoyable for a change.

Afterwards Dad took me to have a private word with the pastor, as he'd promised. That didn't go so well and ended up with me storming out of the pastor's home in a rage. I'll tell you the details another time, but the short version is that he didn't want me coming to church dressed as a girl, and for as long as I continued to do so during the week, and my parents continued to support me in it, he didn't feel it was right to offer us communion. He said something about wanting to talk to us and pray with us to work through the matter, but by that time I was too livid to listen any more. Dad followed me out looking upset too, and who can blame him.

Then came Monday and the long awaited interview with the psychiatrist. He talked to me on my own and asked all sorts of questions about how long I'd felt I wanted to be a girl, and if I cross dressed habitually and how often. I gave him honest answers and told him frankly about how different I felt, how much happier, since I had decided to become Stephanie.

When we were done he invited Mum in to join us then addressed me directly.

“Stephanie, before I talk specifically about what you've told me and what I think about it, I'd like you to know that I am sympathetic to people such as yourself who are struggling with their identity, especially as regards their gender. It is always my intention to help my patients find a peace in their lives through whatever means necessary. I have quite a few years experience in dealing with such cases and I say what I feel is right each time, even if sometimes I know it's not what my patients want to hear.

“I'm sorry to tell you that my assessment is probably going to be something along those lines for you. Now I have no doubt that right now you are happier expressing yourself as a girl, and you are both very convincing and very attractive as such, but there are a number of things that you told me that give me cause for concern.

“This whole change to your life has happened very abruptly, and is still very new to you. It seems to be linked to your growing relationship with four attractive girls at your school, that's right, isn't it? You also told me that the initial idea for you to dress up wasn't yours as much as one of the girls'. Yes, I know you said you wanted to dress up, even though you were pretty sure they were trying to humiliate you, and you said that when this, what you call this girl inside you rose to the surface, that's when your friendship with these girls started to grow.

“I'm not going to deny that there may be something in what you have told me that, in the long term, would indicate you might be to some degree transgendered, but right now I think it would be unwise for me to recommend you start considering a reassignment to being female.

“If you feel that strongly about it, then perhaps you should look into it deeper, but I'm afraid at this stage I'm not prepared to recommend any course that takes you further down this route. I think it would be wrong of me to prescribe any form of hormonal treatment right now and, whilst I cannot stop you from doing such a thing, I think if you were to go out in public with people who know you, dressed as a girl, you will be exposing yourself to some horrible experiences. Most people don't understand and don't want to understand gender issues outside of the two normal ones, and I fear that you would experience a considerable amount of prejudice as a result. I think you are at a delicate stage in your self-discovery at this present moment, and such experiences would, I feel, be harmful to you.

“I am sorry because I know this is not what you want to hear, but you came to me for a professional opinion and this is it.

“My advice? Spend some time exploring this feminine side of your personality, as well as your male one, but do it at home and with your friends, as long as you're certain that they really are your friends, but don't expose yourself to the unpleasantness that will almost certainly follow outside your safe environment until you are considerably more certain that this is what you want.”

I couldn't speak. Tears were stinging my eyes so I couldn't even see straight. All I'd really heard was that he was saying I couldn't do this. Mum thanked the doctor for his time then gently guided me out the door.

We sat quietly in the car, Mum waiting patiently for me to say something. Eventually I found my voice.

“It's not fair. He doesn't understand. I feel so much better as Stephanie and I don't want to be a boy.”

Mum sighed.

“I'm sorry dear, but we did agree that one of the conditions of doing this would be that we follow the doctors advice.”

“I want a second opinion.”

“I know you do sweetheart, but we can't just pull another specialist like him out of a hat can we? Listen, he did suggest that you should explore this side of your personality, even if it is at home, so we should still do some shopping shouldn't we? I think we need to get you a good selection of pants and bras as well as a few different pairs of tights and leggings. With the clothes your friends have lent you, we don't really need to get any more, but if you were to see one or two outfits that you liked, then we might be able to indulge ourselves a little.”

I knew what she was trying to do and, somewhat reluctantly, I allowed her to lift me out of my sulk with the promise of some retail therapy. It felt good to have more than the one pair of undies, and we did see a cute dress and an absolutely gorgeous skirt and top which Mum bought for me without complaining. I think she secretly liked the idea of having a daughter, whatever the doctor had said.

Needless to say there was no phone call to the school, and the family discussion that evening was focused on when and where would be appropriate for me to be Stephanie.

I went to bed early that night, but even the soft caress of my nightdress couldn't ease the dull ache inside.

-oOo-

I woke early the next morning feeling stubborn. Rebecca's old uniform was hanging in my wardrobe and I ignored the boy's uniform Mum had laid out on my chair. When I went down to breakfast I was wearing a skirt and blouse under my blazer. As per school policy I didn't have any jewelry or makeup on — well maybe a little lip gloss, but that was it. Bare legs weren't really approved of so I also had tights on as well as the regulation flats. I looked like a girl, I felt like a girl, I was blowed if anyone was going to make me be anything else.

Dad, as usual, had already left for work, so I only had mum to contend with and she didn't quite have the heart to force me to do anything different. Again she sighed at me, looking at me with sad but loving eyes.

“Well kiddo, if this is something you have to do, I guess you have to do it. I'll phone the school to let them know, although they won't be impressed at having so little warning. Are you sure you can't put this off 'til tomorrow? No, I didn't think so.

“Well however this turns out, remember that we still love you.”

I marched out the house, texting Portia as I went. It felt good to be doing this and I was determined to make it work.

Portia and co had a fifth member as we walked in through the main gates to the school. I got a lot of double takes as people first wanted to know who the new girl was, then recognised me a few seconds later. Most of the lads' reactions were unsurprisingly negative, although when one or two of the more unpleasant ones actually spat on me, I was almost driven to tears.

The girls didn't know what to make of me, and a great many who had been happy to chat with me the previous week refused even to say hello to me. The few who did were awkward and flustered and disappeared in a flurry of excuses as soon as they could think of them.

The bell went for morning registration and as we went in through the main entrance, one of the receptionists intercepted me and took me to the headmaster's office where I didn't have to wait long before being called in. He stared at me with undisguised dismay. He didn't ask me to sit, but as there were a couple of chairs opposite his desk, I perched on the edge of one of them anyway.

“What's this about Steven?”

“Stephanie sir. I prefer to be called Stephanie. I've discovered I'm happier being a girl sir and I thought it was time to go all the way.”

“When your mother called me a while ago I thought this was some sort of bad joke. Is it a joke Stev.. Stephanie?”

“No sir, this is the way I feel happiest.”

“I don't think you'll feel that way by the end of the day, but very well then. We're going to have to make some arrangements for you. It wouldn't be right for you to carry on using the boys' toilets dressed as you are, and I can't let you use the girls', so you will have to use the staff loos near reception. I did manage to tell your teachers that you'd look a little different today, though I didn't know about the name so you'll have to let them know about that yourself. If any of them insist on calling you Steven you'll just have to live with it okay? You're excused games until we can figure out what to do with you and lastly, if you have any trouble with any of the other students, you're to come to reception and we'll find you a quiet room to sit in. I can't say I'm happy about this, but there's not a lot I can do about it. Alright, go on, get to your first class.”

So began an ordeal of name calling, more spitting and other unpleasantness. A lot of the boys still tried to trip me up in the corridors, but at least they weren't pushing me into lockers any more. I did get quite a few threats of being beaten or worse after school, and everywhere I went I was surrounded by hostile looks and malicious whispers.

Portia, Amanda, Jen and Debs stuck by me through break and sat with me at lunchtime, but by the end of it they were looking pretty drawn too, like they were being got at for sticking with me. We met at the gates at the end of the day and walked home together, all of us under something of a cloud. I didn't stop to chat at Portia's house as had become my habit, but headed straight home with some comment about having to wash everyone's gob out of my hair.

The next day was no better; worse in fact because I saw more of the strain this whole thing was putting on my friends. They stuck by me again, but I could see they were finding it difficult. When we reached Portia's house after school I stopped with them. They looked at me oddly, as though I weren't following the script.

“Listen guys, I really appreciate your sticking by my like you have this past couple of days, but I don't like to see you getting hurt because of me. I think it's going to be best if you steer clear of me, at least for a while.”

They made to protest, but I put my foot down. Literally, I mean girly moves or what? I didn't stay after that, but went home and changed into the pretty skirt and top Mum had bought me on Monday. It didn't help, I still felt pretty down. Mum and Dad tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to listen; it sounded to much like I told you so. I went to my room and leaked all over my pillow instead.

Thursday Rebecca Summers found out I was wearing her old uniform and had hysterics in the playground. She started screaming at Amanda because she'd been the one who collected it, 'for a new girl at the school' she'd said. I was nearby when I heard Amanda explain that she'd had no idea she was passing it on to a freak like me. I knew it was just damage limitation on her part, but it still hurt to hear her talk about me like that. I spent both break and lunch in the nurse's office that day, too upset to face the school population.

I thought I saw Portia watching me from a distance once or twice, but when I turned she wasn't there. None of the girls were waiting at the gates at the end of the day and I wandered home alone.

Friday the head called a general assembly and tried to talk to the school about acceptance of other's beliefs and preferences. His heart wasn't in it and he made a bit of a bish of it all. It was obvious from the outset that he was talking about me, and I had to suffer the glares of those around me for a full half hour, head bowed and face burning, before we were allowed to get on with the day.

The assembly ended up making break time and lunchtime worse. During the week the insults and injuries had faded to a point where I was just being shunned, but the head's words had stirred up a renewed resentment. I was back to dodging globs of phlegm and enduring taunts from the cerebrally challenge. At one point during lunch I saw Amanda, Jenny and Debbie talking to a girl who'd been quite openly friendly to me the previous week. I approached them feeling only a little apprehensive.

“Hi.”

“Oh great, it's the bride of Frankenstein.”

They all giggled, even the three I had recently thought were my friends.

“I wanted to ask you Jane,” I remembered the girl's name. “Last week you were happy to chat with me, what's changed, apart from my clothes I mean?”

“You don't think that's enough? Last week you were a guy who could talk about girl stuff, who was friends with Portia and these three. That made you cool. Now your just a rather sad little queer in a dress, and back to being all on your own. Honestly I don't blame these guys for dropping you, you're just... wrong. Come on girls.”

She walked off then. Amanda, Jenny and Debbie looked at me with a mixture of guilt and apology and followed her.

The cloud of misery that had been building all week reached saturation. It didn't burst all of a sudden sending me running away in floods of tears, but rather started a gentle and steady rain as the loneliness crowded in on me and crushed my spirit utterly. I wandered the corridors listlessly, a growing numbness making me immune to the barbed comments that followed me wherever I went. Eventually I found my way to the staff toilet and locked myself into a cubical.

I didn't hear the bell. Fourth period on a Friday had become a recent favourite of mine as it's a class I share with Portia and Amanda. Even if I had heard the bell I doubt I would have done anything about it though. I had reached the end of my rope and was about ready to let go and let the darkness take me. I don't know how long I sat there sniffling into a wad of toilet paper before I was interrupted by the outer door opening. I quietly pulled my feet up off the floor and held my breath. It might have fooled a teacher, but us kids know all the tricks

“Steph?”

It was Portia. I stayed quiet, perhaps she'd go away.

“Listen, I just walked out of a lesson to come looking for you, which means I almost certainly have a detention, plus who knows how long my dad will ground me, not to mention the social suicide I've just committed. The least you owe me is an acknowledgement of my existence.”

I let out a sigh and unlocked the cubicle.

“You should have just left me to rot. The others have and I don't blame them.”

She crouched in front of me and tried to look up into my eyes. I wouldn't meet her gaze, wouldn't react.

“I'd like a word with Steven.”

It was an odd request. I didn't understand it.

“My name is Stephanie.”

“I know sweetie, but Steven's in there somewhere as well. Can I speak to him?”

It didn't matter, Steph didn't feel like hanging about. I felt a shift inside me. My shoulders slumped in a different way and despite the skirt I felt like I used to.”

“What do you want?”

She reached forward and for the second time in just two weeks, she kissed me. As before it was a shock at first, but she had her arms around my neck so I couldn't escape. Slowly, very slowly, as though poison were being sucked out of me, I felt the week's misery lift and it dawned on me that here I was kissing the girl of my dreams.