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At morning break on Thursday, Julie asks me to walk with her round the school grounds. I get the feeling she wants a private discussion. I have been avoiding doing this, as I am not certain of what the outcome will be. However, our next lesson is Physical Education, which means using the girls’ changing rooms. I am not surprised when Julie brings this up in our conversation.

“What is your plan for P.E. today, Simon?” Julie asks me, assuming that I will have some sort of plan for avoiding it.

“Not to drop out before level five, and hopefully beat my personal best and reach level 10,” I answer with a smile. We had heard that our first gym lesson is going to be the beep test.

This involves the entire class, boys and girls, lining up on one side of the sports hall, and running to the other side before the beep sounds. Each level will involve running backwards and forwards across the hall. Anybody who can’t keep up will have to drop out. Each level lasts approximately a minute, before progressing to the next where the frequency of the beeps increases. You start slowly and gradually run faster and faster. Not only is it a test of raw speed, but it is also an endurance test as you gradually build up your pace.

“Seriously, what excuse have you come up with for excluding yourself?” Julie asks again.

“I am perfectly fit, I see no reason to skive off,” I reply. “I will be doing P.E. the same as the rest of you. Look, if you have a problem changing with me in the room, then I promise not to look in your direction, now do I have to avert my eyes or not?”

Julie stops walking, crosses her arms and stares at me, “Of course I have a problem with having a boy watching me in the changing rooms.”

“I’m not a boy. You have a pretty good idea of what I feel like every time I have to go into the boys’ changing room,” I state, “you only have one person in the room to feel uncomfortable with, for me it was every single person. As I said, I am willing to avoid looking at you, I never had that luxury.”

“It’s not just me, what about the other girls?” Julie counters.

“They have no preconceptions about what I am and therefore accept me at face value,” I reply. “When we go into the changing room, most of the girls in there will be people we have only just met. Are you equally uncomfortable changing in their presence? After all, you don’t know anything about them; any one of those could also be male. For the record, I am not sexually attracted to girls, but any number of the girls in that room could be lesbian for all we know. Now tell me logically why me being in the room is any different than any one of them.”

That seems to shut Julie up for a moment while she tries to formulate an argument. We continue to walk in silence for a few minutes.

“I am still not happy with the idea of you being in the changing room, so make sure not to look at me,” Julie states, “if I see you staring at any of my friends I won’t be pleased. Changing isn’t a big problem. I will simply keep my back to you. What I want to know is how you plan to hide yourself while naked in the showers. I have used these changing rooms before as my Karate club uses the school facilities in the evenings. The showers are communal, and we will be made to use them. Sure, you can keep yourself hidden under a towel most of the time, but at some point, you will have to step naked into the shower. You are a boy, as you proved when you lost your trunks in the swimming pool last year, so exactly how do you expect to get away with this?”

I laugh and then reply, “Don’t you think I haven’t considered this? I have been planning this for the last six months. I have made damned sure that nobody is going to see anything out of the ordinary. With my bits pushed up inside my body cavity and superglued in place, there is nothing to see. I have been walking naked through the local swimming pool changing rooms for the last three weeks and I haven’t been arrested yet, so I think I’m safe. Just do me a favour and don’t stare at me, or I might just decide to stare back.”

I haven’t seen many girls naked. I have seen plenty of images of naked women on the Internet, but they are all adults. I have successfully glued myself up to give a feminine appearance to my genitalia. I just hope that I haven’t made myself look too mature considering that I don’t have a chest to match.

Julie still doesn’t look happy, but doesn’t say anything further. We continue walking the school grounds in silence. We head to our lockers to switch our normal bags for our sports kits.

The bell rings and we all walk across the courtyard and line up outside the sports facilities. It is a separate building from the rest of the school, and we have to queue outside until given permission to enter. We form two rows, separated by sex, waiting for further instruction. After we are neatly lined up and standing quietly we are instructed to enter the changing rooms. Julie is at the head of the group. I have decided to stand at the rear with Alison and Mary.

We file into the girls’ changing room. Julie goes to the far end of the room while I stay near the door. I end up sitting on a bench between Alison and Mary, neither of whom know my true physical sex. I have passed naked before, but that was casually from a distance.

Although I projected confidence when telling Julie earlier, truthfully, I am nervous that I don’t pass close inspection. The changing room is full to capacity and I am only a few feet away from the next girl, possibly closer when we stand next to each other in the showers.

Mrs Hargreaves, the games mistress, follows us into the room and instructs us to change into our indoor kits.

Changing into the sports kit isn’t a problem, as it doesn’t involve removing underwear. Therefore, I quickly change into the t-shirt, short skirt, and gym knickers. Having changed my socks and shoes, I am ready for the lesson. Mrs Hargreaves returns and we follow her into the sports hall. The boys are already in the room.

Mr Morris, the boys’ teacher, instructs us all to find some space on the floor and face his direction. He then teaches us some warm up stretches, and tells us that these should be repeated at the end of the lesson to prevent cramp. Mrs Hargreaves then gives instructions regarding the beep test.

The trial starts and I do quite well. Most of the students taking part in the packed hall drop out before level nine. I am one of the last girls to fall out at level eleven. The two final girls fall out at level twelve, but a couple of the boys manage to get all the way to level fifteen before collapsing from exhaustion.

I am fit and strong from working on the farm. As I haven’t gone through puberty yet, I don’t have much in the way of a physical advantage, unlike some of the boys that are definitely ahead of me in development.

While we all sit and recover for a few minutes, Mr Morris explains the rules for a non-stop version of indoor cricket. The basic concept is similar to normal cricket, but it is much faster-paced and fun. We are split into two teams via house, Saturn versus Venus. The batting team line up down the side of the room. There is only one batsman in at a time and they have to dash back and forth between two posts to score runs. As soon as they are bowled or caught out, they are instantly replaced by a new player.

The bowler doesn’t have to wait until the batsman is ready, so as soon as the ball is returned, he bowls. The opposing team form the fielders and there is nowhere where the ball is out of play, meaning you can bounce it off the walls and ceiling as much as you like. It is fast-paced and quite entertaining.

At the end of the lesson, we are all perspiring profusely and we are instructed to hit the showers. We all file back into the changing rooms.

I decide to be one of the first girls to undress. If there is going to be screaming, I figure it’s best if it happens before everybody is naked, that way if there is a serious problem, most of the girls will still be covered, modesty intact.

I strip naked and after putting on a shower cap to keep my wig dry, I purposely head for the now running water. Mrs Hargreaves has just operated the controls to start the showers. I put my towel on the floor near the entrance and walk past her into the spray. Nobody says anything and I am soon showering amongst a number of girls being careful to keep my eyes focused on the wall in front of me rather than looking in anybody’s direction.

As I come out, I come face to face with Julie. She is on her way in and is currently hiding herself behind her towel. We both freeze and I notice her eyes dart down towards my crotch.

“You’re bleeding,” she says alarmed. This catches me by surprise and I look down. Sure enough, there are a couple of drops of blood emerging from my fake slit. This wasn’t part of my plan. I must have torn something with all the running. We stand looking at each other in shock for what feels like hours, but in reality is only a matter of a second or two.

“First time?” Mary asks as she walks around me and picks up her towel. “I got caught out last week. I have a spare pad if you need one.”

“Yes please, I wasn’t expecting to need one today,” I say going red. I pick up my own towel and follow Mary back to the bench where our clothes are waiting. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a sanitary towel. I thank her and quickly dry myself. Following the instructions on the packet, I insert it into my knickers as I pull them up.

The bell rings and we head out of the changing rooms. I have just passed my biggest test so far, successfully convincing a room of girls that I am one of them while standing naked in their midst. I hadn’t planned to have a period conveniently strike, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I will however be doing some careful examination down there tonight, as I shouldn’t be bleeding. That is a worrying sign, the last thing I need is an infection to complicate matters.

During the afternoon, I start to develop some pain, and I have to borrow some aspirin off Alison. Luckily, this fits my apparent condition, but I am worried that this isn’t right. I shouldn’t be having these difficulties.

At the end of the day, I head into the girls’ bathroom to examine myself before the ride home. The pad has collected a lot of blood, and I put the pad into the bin provided. The bleeding seems to have stopped. I insert my finger into my artificially created slot, and feel for the source of the blood. I almost cry out in pain as my nail scrapes the source of the problem. I am obviously not as healed as I first thought. I will need to take it easy on my way home.

After padding my knickers with toilet paper, I emerge from the cubicle and make my way to the bike sheds. I decide not to ride off immediately, but instead walk with my bike.

Josh catches up with me as I leave the school gates. He walks home each evening as he lives nearby. Neither of us says anything; we just walk down the road. I am not certain, but I think he is walking in the wrong direction. Therefore, I assume he wants to talk.

“Congratulations,” he says to me after checking nobody is nearby. “I hear from the grapevine that you ‘came on’ in the showers earlier today. I don’t know how you did it, but you have successfully quashed the rumours that had started about you being Simon in drag.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

“How come you aren’t riding your bike, do you have a problem? My house is nearby and I have tools in the garage if you need to fix anything,” he states, referring to my bike.

The walking is making me sore, and I can feel more blood running down the inside of my leg. “How far is it and will there be anybody at home?” I ask.

“It’s two streets in that direction,” Josh says, pointing northward, “and my mother doesn’t get home until five, we will be alone until then.”

I consider my options. I decide I have no choice but to trust Josh. “I have a problem, the blood isn’t faked. I really am bleeding and I think it’s getting worse. If I sit on my bike, can you wheel me to your house? I don’t think I should walk or peddle too far.”

A tear rolls down my cheek as I get on my bike. I press my legs together as Josh grabs my bike and rolls it along the pavement. True to his word, his house is only a couple of minutes away and he swiftly unlocks the door and shows me to the bathroom.

“Is there anything I can do, should I call an ambulance or doctor?” he asks with concern as I sit on the edge of the bath.

“No, I can fix the problem,” I state. “I must have strained myself this morning in PE. I have some glue in my coat pocket that I can use to stop the bleeding. All I need to do is find the spot and seal it up again. No big deal.”

I lift my skirt to find that my once white knickers have a large red patch. The blood has soaked through the toilet paper. I immediately unhook my skirt and remove it so that doesn’t become stained and drop my panties to the floor.

“Can you hand me some toilet paper?” I ask Josh, who is now looking away, red faced and not sure what to do. “I don’t mind you looking, I am actually quite proud of my handiwork. Do you have a hand mirror? I need to see where I am bleeding from, unless you want to help.”

Josh grabs the toilet roll from its holder and hands it to me. I wipe the blood away and throw the paper in the loo. Josh leaves the room and to find a hand mirror. When he returns I am sitting on the floor with my legs apart, trying to find the source of the blood.

Josh kneels down beside me, examines my crotch, and asks, “How did you do it? It looks like you really are a girl. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that you’re female, although I’m no expert as I have only seen pictures. It’s only because I have seen you naked before in the showers at school that I know that isn’t the case.”

“My bits are pushed up inside of me and I glued them in place,” I reply.

Josh looks at me closely then states, “I’m not sure I believe you. I may not be intimate with female anatomy, but I do know my own body. I wondered how you might get away with this, so looked up cross-dressing techniques on the Internet. I even tried to see how flat I could make myself. You are a lot flatter than I managed. In addition, that wouldn’t explain the amount of blood. If you had pulled some skin there wouldn’t be that much. It looks like you have pulled open a cut.”

“If I tell you, do you promise not to say anything?” I ask cautiously.

“I promise,” he replies.

“I have done something that most people would consider incredibly stupid, drastic, and very dangerous,” I state, “Five weeks ago I shot myself with an anaesthetic dart, and cut my balls off. I had to act quickly in order to complete the task before I passed out and bled to death.”

Josh is starting to look white. I pause in case he is feeling faint. He appears to be okay, so I continue, “I stopped the bleeding and glued the wounds shut. I flattened my dick, gluing it down. I then folded the now loose skin of my sack over the top to form the outer lips, again sticking them in place. I have helped the vet to castrate our farm animals, so I knew what to do. I felt sick for several days, and had to pretend I had flu. Luckily, my parents believed me and I got better before they decided to send for the doctor. I have been careful to take things easy while I healed, but the running about earlier must have pulled the wound open.”

I have deliberately been taking it easy over the past weeks while I healed. I have done a fair amount of walking, riding and swimming, but this has been low impact. This morning’s lesson involved sprinting and sudden changes of direction, which was a lot more strenuous than the exercise I have been taking.

With Josh’s help, I manage to stop the bleeding and glue the tear shut. I am feeling weak and have to be helped off the floor. I ask Josh to help me onto the toilet, needing to check that I can still pee without problems. If I accidentally block my urethra then I will need to go to hospital.

The whole procedure has taken less than ten minutes. I am helped through to Josh’s bedroom and I lie down on his bed. He hands me one of his mother’s sanitary towels in case I start to bleed again, and fetches me a spare pair of panties out of my sports bag before heading into the bathroom to clean up.

He pours us both a large lemonade and we sit in his room, drinking. The added sugar helps to make me feel better, having been feeling faint. I will need to be extra careful in future.

Josh has been quiet since I told him about my operation. I’m putting a lot of trust in him, and I’m worried that he may tell someone, or try to get me seen by a doctor. However, at the same time I feel relieved for revealing my secret.

“You’re really are serious about becoming a girl, aren’t you,” Josh states after a while, “it must have taken a lot of guts to do that to yourself. I guess you must have been desperate.”

“After Mike’s coming out I knew that my parents would never support me. Without their assistance there is no way I will be able to get the medical help I need to transition, at least not until I’m eighteen, and then I would have already gone through puberty as a boy. I couldn’t face that so I took a calculated risk. I would rather die trying than be forced to live as a man. You have no idea what it’s like to be physically revolted by a part of your own body.”

“Actually, I think I do,” Josh replies sadly. “Two years ago I was diagnosed with anorexia. I know it’s a disorder normally associated with girls, but it can affect boys as well. I was one of the fattest kids when I started school and I was bullied about it relentlessly. I tried to lose weight, but over-reacted and ended up going too far. I wasn’t having any breakfast and pretending I was having a school lunch, but in fact, I was skipping it. For months, I lived off a single sandwich a day during the week and as little as possible over the weekend. My weight plummeted but I still thought of myself as fat. Eventually I was taken to the doctors, and then to a shrink. I have it under control now, but I still sometimes look in the mirror and find I am revolted by my size.”

I can remember Josh being fat and then losing weight, but never realised the situation was that bad. He is now tall and thin, but looks healthy, without any obvious signs of being malnourished.

We sit contemplating our newfound knowledge about each other for several minutes.

“You could have killed yourself,” Josh states, and I nod. “Promise me you aren’t going to do anything like that again.”

“I only have one set of testicles, and they’ve gone,” I state, “I don’t need to do anything else to achieve my goal. With the primary organs responsible for producing testosterone removed, I now can’t go through male puberty without chemical assistance. As male bodies also produce female hormones, the balance should shift and I will start to become feminine instead. I have some herbal tablets that act like female hormones so that should help. I don’t intend to cut anything else off, if that’s why you’re worried. I need my penis in order for it to be inverted into a vagina once I turn eighteen. While I am quite happy with my intermediary state, I would like to be able to have sex in the future.”

Josh nods in acceptance of my argument, “All right, I won’t tell anybody, but if you have any further problems, then I won’t hesitate to call a doctor.”

I nod in agreement. After finishing our drinks, I have recovered my strength. Josh asks me if I’m going to be all right riding, and insists on coming with me. He gets his bike out of his shed, and after leaving a note for his mother, escorts me home. We stop at the bunker so that I can change. He is fascinated by my hideout and transformation from girl to boy. He states that he is finding it hard to believe I am a boy when changed, as I still look girly even with my short hair and baggy clothes.

He eventually leaves me at the end of the track leading up to the farm. It’s set back about two hundred yards from the road.

After putting my bike away in the barn, I enter the kitchen door where my mother is cooking our evening meal.

“You’re late,” she states. I can hear the annoyance in her voice.

“Sorry, I got a puncture on the way home. Rather than walking, I decided to pull off into a field and fix it. It took longer than I thought,” I reply as I head upstairs to my room to change out of my school clothes and do some homework before dinner.

“Uncle Peter phoned earlier, they have arranged to come over and stay with us this weekend and will be arriving tomorrow evening,” my mother comments as we finish eating.

Considering they live two hours away, and won’t be able to leave until all three kids are out of school, that means they won’t be arriving until six at the earliest.

“When are they expected to arrive? I am going swimming tomorrow remember, or am I going to have to change my plans?” I ask.

“No you’re okay,” my father answers, “chances are they won’t get here until after you get home. We will be cooking a meal for half past seven, so they have plenty of time to get here. Make sure you are here by seven.”

“Thanks, I will,” I reply with a grin. I then ask, “What will the sleeping arrangements be? Aren’t all the cottages rented out?”

We own several farm cottages that we rent out. Normally if we have guests, we can put them up in one. Although the main holiday season has finished due to the kids going back to school, we still manage to get some late season bookings from families that don’t have school-age children. All the cottages are booked.

“Your Aunt and Uncle will take the main guest room. We thought that you could join the twins in Mike’s room and Emily could use your room, as it’s the smallest,” my mother says.

We have four bedrooms. The largest of these is naturally occupied by my parents. The second biggest room belonged to Mike. It houses a double bed and contains a chair that folds out as another single bed. The twins, James and Kevin, both 15, will probably share the double bed, leaving me with the fold out.

The other two bedrooms are slightly smaller, but both of them are large enough for, and therefore fitted, with double beds. I had the option to move into Mike’s room after he left, but decided to keep my own room. I didn’t fancy the hassle of moving and it didn’t feel right. I secretly hope that Mike may be able to come home and use his room in future, however unlikely that appears now.

I don’t really need a double bed to myself, a single would be fine. Nevertheless, my parents decided that as there is room I might as well have the larger size. It comes in handy if we have guests and need to sleep more people. My father also pointed out it might come in useful if I ever have a girlfriend stay the night, however that is not allowed until I’m eighteen.

I don’t get on with Kevin and James. They regard me as gay and don’t think anything of pushing me around. Mike’s presence stopped their rough-housing from hurting me, and I no longer have that protection.

Sharing a room with them also poses the problem that my body modifications could be discovered. I will have to change in the bathroom, but my added modesty could cause questions, as I have changed in front of them before.

“I’m not sharing with the twins,” I firmly state, “I would rather sleep in the barn with the sheep.”

My mother looks at me with an ‘are you serious’ type impression. She knows I’m not a fan of sheep.

“I’m serious,” I say, “we don’t get on very well and quite frankly I’m scared of them. I don’t think they would go as far as gang-banging me in the middle of the night, although I wouldn’t put it past them. They did threaten it last time they were here. They reckoned I was gay before Mike came out, so I fully expect them to still think I am of the same persuasion and give me a hard time about it.”

Strictly speaking I am attracted to men, but I’m not going to admit that to them.

“At the very least I can expect Chinese burns, wedgies, and titty-twisters to be performed on me,” I shudder at the thought of the last one. My nipples are starting to become sensitive. I have been taking some herbal supplements that are supposed to mimic female hormones, as I don’t have access to proper medical treatment. I think they are starting to produce results, although that may be a placebo effect.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” my father says with annoyance, “they are not that bad.”

“I am not giving them the opportunity,” I firmly state, “I’m not sharing a room with them and that’s final. If that means I end up in the barn then so be it. There is another alternative, but that entirely depends on Emily.”

Emily is my other cousin. She is thirteen, the same as me, although she is about four months older than I am.

“Are you suggesting that you share a bed with Emily? If so, forget it. It’s not appropriate, I won’t allow it and neither would your uncle,” my father loudly replies.

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me, “Surely, it is up to Emily to say if she is willing to trust me or not. Why did you insist I have a double bed if I can’t make use of it? Before you say anything, I meant for sleeping two people, not for sex. We are both under age and I have no intention of doing anything other than sleeping, no matter what Emily might want.”

“You will stop being stupid and sleep on the fold out bed in your former brother’s room,” my father states, ending the discussion.

I go to bed early as I am still feeling a bit delicate and sore. I feel a lot better in the morning. After feeding the goats, I fetch my bike from the barn and head to my bunker to change.

I have taken a risk this morning and worn my girl panties instead of my usual briefs. Sometimes my jeans get so muddy that I have to strip them off when I enter the house, which means I could easily be seen in my underwear. For this reason, I tend to wear male briefs for safety. Since my operation, I have been padding my pants with cotton wool.

Having fixed my hair and makeup, I put my coat and helmet back on. After cycling to school, I head straight to the girls’ bathroom. I use the toilet and emerge. There are now a couple of other girls in the room, but they ignore me as I wash my hands and comb my hair. I take some clip on earrings out of my bag and fix them onto my ear lobes.

Julie is waiting for me in the library. “We need to talk,” she says as I come in. We head out to the corridor and find a quiet spot away from other students. “What’s going on, Simon? You caught me by surprise yesterday with the blood. I thought that perhaps you were trying to pull a fast one by pretending to have a period, something that I find most distasteful. It’s a very serious issue for real girls, not something with which to joke. However, you looked shocked when you looked down, and you genuinely looked ill yesterday afternoon. I was going to find you after school, but you had disappeared. It wasn’t until I was on the bus that I found out you were in the toilets.”

“The blood was unintended,” I reply calmly. “I had glued myself up too tight and all the running tore some skin, causing it to bleed. It left me very sore in the afternoon so I had to fix it before I went home. I won’t be making the same mistake again.”

I deliberately hold back on my explanation, as I don’t like Julie’s attitude. Whenever she talks to me alone, she insists on calling me Simon instead of Simone or Jasmine. She also seems annoyed at my charade. I get the impression that she hasn’t accepted me as a girl, instead regarding me as a boy pulling a stupid stunt. At least she hasn’t ratted me out yet, but I am not convinced that will last.

“I’m not a good enough actress to try to fake something of which I don’t have experience. In addition, I would have told you beforehand so that you wouldn’t have acted so surprised, that was embarrassing for both of us,” I state, “It was lucky that Mary offered me a pad instead of a tampon - no hole to shove one into.”

We enter the class for registration and I note that she goes and sits with Lisa rather than with me. I ignore her and sit near Alison and Mary instead. We are rapidly becoming friends.

When school lets out at half past three, Alison, Mary and I meet up at the bike sheds. I didn’t want to wear my swimming costume under my uniform all day, so I have it in a bag. I have my old swimming trunks as well, which I will wet on the way home so that my parents don’t get suspicious.

We head out of the school with Alison leading us to the holiday park. Our route takes us down a cycle path next to some allotments. I have been meaning to talk to the girls, but haven’t had the opportunity during the day to get them alone. Seeing as nobody is about I pull past Alison and Mary and come to a stop.

“Can we stop for a second?” I ask.

“Sure, what’s up?” Alison asks, coming to a halt. Mary pulls up beside her.

“I have something embarrassing I need to tell you about before we go swimming,” I say nervously, “Please don’t say anything to anybody else, but I’m wearing a wig.”

The two girls look on in surprise. The hairpiece I bought cheaply off eBay is good quality and you can’t tell its fake unless you look very closely and even then only if you know what to look for.

“I was involved in an accident on the farm. I don’t want to talk about it, but the net result was I had to have a large clump of hair cut off. I looked ridiculous with a bald patch, so I opted simply to cut my hair back in a buzz cut, Sinead O’Conner style. Trouble is it doesn’t suit me, I look too much like a boy in drag,” because that is effectively what I am, not that I want them to know that, “I’m therefore wearing a wig until it grows back evenly.”

“Ouch, been there done that,” Alison replies, “four years ago my cousin Tom decided to replace my hair gel with glue. By the time I realised something was wrong my hair was a solid lump and the only solvents were not the type of thing you want to use on a sensitive scalp.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t say anything,” Mary adds.

“Thanks, I can get away with wearing it in the showers at school under a cap, but I don’t want to risk the chemicals in the pool damaging it,” I say, “I will need to discretely swap it for a swimming cap, but didn’t think I would be able to do it without you noticing.”

“It’s all right, we understand,” Alison replies and Mary nods.

We resume our journey and arrive at the holiday park. Nothing further is said about my hairpiece and neither girl seems upset or hostile about my revelation, so I think I am safe for the time being. They have already seen me naked, so I don’t think they are going to jump to the conclusion I’m male.

We cycle across the complex to the swimming centre and lock our bikes into the racks. Heading inside the main entrance there is a short queue for admission. Mary and Alison both have resident passes and get in for a small fee. As a guest of a resident, I also get a discounted price, but it’s not as low. Anybody can turn up and pay to use the pool, but it’s mainly for the holidaymakers staying in the camp, who get issued with free passes.

I enquire about the rules regarding resident passes. There are two discount rates available. One is for those who live within two miles, and a second slightly higher price is if you live within five. Looking at the line drawn on their map, the thick marker pen line cuts through our farm, so there is a chance that I will get the cheapest rate. The problem is it needs parental permission and proof of residency, neither of which I can easily obtain.

Mary leads us through the turnstiles and we head to the changing rooms. I smile as we enter through the doorway marked with the stick figure wearing a skirt. As soon as we are inside, I divert into a toilet cubicle, both to relieve myself before going swimming, and to swap my wig for the swimming cap. I don’t bother pulling my knickers up when I finish and slip them into my bag with the wig. After washing my hands, I go over to where Mary and Alison are already changing and pull out my swimming costume.

After depositing our bags into some lockers and pinning the keys to our costumes, we head out to the pools. There are four swimming pools in here and a number of water slides. For those who want to swim lengths there is a pool set up with lanes. There is a second pool dedicated to diving. There is also a shallow pool for young children.

The main pool is T-shaped and is set up like a beach. There is a large slope made to look like sand, so that you can walk down an incline into the water. This gradient continues all the way to the deep end. A wave machine is set going for ten minutes each half hour to simulate being in the sea. All around the water are small gardens with palm trees and shrubs. The building is a massive glass dome.

We swim about in the main pool for a bit. I am not a confident swimmer and like to stay in my depth, unlike my companions who can dart about like mermaids. They stay with me in my comfort zone for a while, and then while they swim some lengths in the dedicated pool I try out some of the water slides. They haven’t abandoned me; I told them to go ahead as I was holding them back.

I almost lose my swimming cap coming off one of the slides, so decide to take it easy for a while. I walk over to the diving pool and watch some of the boys who are doing high dives. It is while sitting on a low wall that I spot somebody I know. Bart Walsh was my main enemy at my last school. Luckily, he goes to Ariel High now so I don’t have to put up with his bullying. He is heading this way with a few of his mates, so I decide to walk away before he recognises me.

As I walk round the complex back towards where my friends are now swimming, I keep my eye on the approaching menace. It seems they have noticed me and I can hear them whispering between them, although I can’t hear what they are saying. I have a bad feeling about this. It can go one of two ways. Either they know who I am, or want to chat me up. Neither option I like.

They are gaining on me and I spot an opportunity to get away from them. Up a flight of stairs to my left is a water slide and there are only two people waiting to go. There is also a member of staff controlling when people enter the tube. I join the queue and I see the boys waiting at the bottom of the stairs, watching me. As I climb into the tube, I notice all but one of them heading away, presumably to meet me at the exit.

I take a deep breath and start sliding down the tube. It is a faster ride than I am used to, having been keeping to the tamer ones and I hadn’t realised that I had managed to pick one of the fastest. As I emerge from the end, I slide into a massive trough of water. The rush of liquid removes my cap. I quickly grab it and shove it back on, but the damage has already been done. The boys saw me and are now walking as fast as they can in my direction.

Looking round I notice that I am not far from the changing rooms, so I make a dash for it. They start to give chase, but I have a head start. I hear a lifeguard shout, “No running!” but I ignore him and slip into the female changing room only a few feet ahead of them, almost colliding with a group of women coming out.

Once inside and happy that they haven’t tried to follow me, I lean against a wall and catch my breath. A minute later, a female member of staff enters and comes over to me.

“Were those boys chasing you?” she asks and I nod. “That sort of behaviour won’t be tolerated here. I have had a word with them. I am sorry to have to ask this, but they reckon you are a boy that they know.”

I laugh and hooking my finger in under my swimming costume, pull it to one side to reveal my crotch. “They are mistaking me for my cousin Simon. He has had trouble with them in the past.”

“Okay I will go tell them they are mistaken and if they give you any more trouble let a member of staff know and they will be asked to leave,” she states. “What is your name by the way?”

“Jasmine Whittaker,” I say without hesitation.

The woman nods and goes out of the changing room. I wait a minute and then peek round the doorframe to see if the coast is clear. I can’t see the boys so I head back to the main pool where Alison and Mary are now looking for me. I don’t say anything to them about my incident, as it may start them asking questions I can’t answer.

Although I am becoming a proficient liar in order to pull off my change of sex, I am trying to keep to the truth as much as possible so that I don’t slip up.

We spend the next ten minutes enjoying the wave machine. I decide to use safety in numbers so stick with my friends for the remainder of the session. I keep an eye out for the boys and spot them from a distance back over by the diving pool. I watch as Bart dives from the five-meter board. I take note not to go over there again.

After an hour’s swimming, we decide to just relax and float in the shallow pool for ten minutes. We all have to cycle home. The other two live less than two miles away, whereas I’m closer to five miles as the crow flies. Unfortunately, by the time you take into account that you can’t go in a straight line, and I need to stop off at the bunker, it will be nearly six and a half miles for me.

We head back to the changing rooms to shower and change. There are a number of people in there, but I don’t get any funny looks as I strip naked and dry myself off. I deliberately stand naked in full view while I swap my swimming cap for a headscarf. I figure nobody is going to think I am a boy, due to my short hair, when my crotch is in view. They may think it’s an odd style for a girl, but they will think I’m female.

Instead of dressing in my school uniform, I change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t fancy putting my skirt back on only to have to change it for a pair of trousers at the bunker. This way I only need to change once. It won’t appear odd for me to have taken a change of clothes for after swimming so I can arrive home like this.

I’m taking a big risk in my appearance. I am now effectively in boy mode, the only thing giving me a feminine look is the headscarf, and that is almost unisex as it is a plain navy blue. I’m not worried that Mary and Alison will think of me as a boy, as they know I don’t have the genitalia to match. However, I could be mistaken by other people, which could get awkward.

We head up to the café for a drink before heading off. It is situated on a balcony overlooking the pools. I buy a large orange juice and position myself where I can look out over the pool. I want to keep my eye on Bart and company, as I don’t want to leave at the same time. Ideally, I need to get away first, in case they have ideas of setting up an ambush outside.

Alison glances round to make sure nobody is listening and then says, “No offence, but I can see why you chose to wear the wig. I reckon you could pass as a boy with that haircut. Have you ever tried to sneak into the boys’ changing rooms for a peek?”

“Did you, when you had your problem?” I counter. “You must have been in the same position.”

“Yes, I was and did. Actually, I regularly used the gents’ toilets and I still do when travelling,” Alison replies, “My father owns a classic E-Type Jaguar and regularly takes it to rallies. Trouble is that often the toilet facilities are temporary and inadequate. Portaloos aren’t the nicest things to use, and neither my mother nor I ever fancy sitting in them. Mum uses these disposable funnel things so that she can go standing and she taught me to use them from a young age.”

I am familiar with such devices and have used them a few times myself, mainly at home as practice. Although I don’t like to pee standing, I occasionally do so when using public toilets. As I am still supposed to be a boy, there could be a need for me to use a urinal, so I obtained a few in case the need arises.

“Well, we were at a rally where there were no permanent toilet facilities and I was desperate to go. The queue to the portaloos was at least ten minutes long and I was bursting. There was however a portacabin that contained only urinals, for which there wasn’t a queue. I still had short hair, so took the risk and went for it. There seems to be an unwritten rule not to look at the person next to you. I kept my distance and was able to relieve myself without anybody noticing,” Alison explains, “ever since then I have used the gents’. By the time my hair grew back, I was so used to using urinals I carried on. If you’re discreet and you can get away with it, most men don’t realise I’m a girl, and those that do don’t seem to mind as long as I’m using the urinals and not the cubicles.”

“I have used the gents’ before,” I say truthfully, “with my hair this short I can pass as a boy without difficulty, although I don’t use the urinals.”

As I finish my drink, I see Bart and company enter the changing rooms. I use this as my cue to check the time and declare that I need to be going. We head to the bike racks and say our farewells, as we will be heading in different directions. Apart from my run in, I have had a good time and I say I will think about making this a weekly thing.

I am soon whizzing down the road at high speed on my racing bike. I don’t seem to be doing much less speed that the cars around me in the built up area, so I must be getting near to thirty miles an hour.

Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at the bunker and having unlocked the hidden door I duck my head and wheel my bike inside through the small entrance. Using a torch, I light some candles and then sort out my bags. A barrel outside hidden in the undergrowth collects rainwater, into which I plunge my swimming trunks so that they look like they have been used. I take the wet towel, wrap it around my male swimwear, and hang the actual costume I used on a line to dry. After putting my wig on the polystyrene head and sealing it in an airtight box, I switch the contents of my bag around so that it contains a boy’s school uniform instead of the girl one.

I extinguish the lights and wheel my mountain bike out, locking the door behind me. I then make the final part of my journey back to the farm.