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We head down the pub around six. The quiz doesn’t begin until seven thirty, but we want to get a meal first. Our guests had a cooked lunch at the wedding reception, so choose lighter food. I on the other hand opt for a shepherd’s pie, as I am hungry after all my work. I make sure to eat in a delicate feminine manner. I have lemonade with my meal, and suspiciously, the boys order the same. They usually drink coke.

It soon becomes apparent what their game is. When they think I’m not looking they keep swapping the glasses around so that I’m actually drinking three glasses of lemonade instead of one. I know what they are doing, and I wink at Emily who has also spotted what is happening. Emily is aware that I go to school as a girl, and therefore know that I will have no problem with walking into the Ladies’ if I need to go.

We split into two teams for the quiz. On Emily’s suggestion, we split into girls versus boys, with me as an honorary girl for the evening. Therefore, my father, uncle, Kevin and James form the ‘Whittaker Boys’. My mother, aunt, Emily, and I form the ‘Whittaker Girls’.

Another round of drinks is ordered. At least we are on a separate table now and the twins can’t interfere with my drink.

For the next forty minutes, we answer various questions on different subjects, writing our answers down and submitting them for marking. At the half time interval, I go to get up, but my mother places her hand on my shoulder preventing me from leaving.

“Where are you going?” she whispers.

“I need the loo,” I reply.

“You can’t use the gents looking like that. You will have to hold it until we get home,” my mother states.

“That is not an option,” I reply, “In case you didn’t notice James and Kevin were swapping the glasses round. I have had nearly four large lemonades, and there is no way I can last for another hour. I have been holding for the last twenty minutes, I have been desperate for the last five. I will simply use the Ladies’. It’s not like I’m going to see anything I shouldn’t and it’s not likely to cause a scene, unlike using the gents or wetting myself.”

I push my mother’s arm out of the way and walk towards the toilets. I notice Kevin is also heading the same direction, and I wink at him as I enter the restricted zone. I have been living as a girl part time for over a month. Going to the loo is not going to faze me at all. I enter a stall and take care of business before heading to the sink to wash my hands.

I am touching up my lipstick when my mother enters the room. She stares at me, annoyed, but doesn’t say anything, as there are other women present. I smile at her as I walk past her back into the bar.

As I cross the room, I notice the whispering going on at the boys table. I ignore them and sit down next to Emily, who winks at me, grinning.

She leans over and whispers, “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

I whisper back, “It’s not often I get to be myself around family and not have to worry about appearing too girly.”

The quiz continues through the second half and we sit patiently for the results. We come in fourth overall out of nine teams. Considering we are up against some veteran competitors, I think we did well. We also have the added bonus of beating the boys by three points. They came in fifth.

We have a final round of drinks, and I deliberately accompany Emily to the toilets a second time. I could have waited until we reached home, but I wanted to make my point. Nobody in the pub seemed to see anything amiss. The boys behaved and didn’t call me ‘Simon’ during the evening. I wonder if they are actually going to chicken out of the dare tomorrow. I have already decided I am wearing my dress, even if they don’t choose to wear the skirts I have found for them.

We retire to the farm later that evening. I have thoroughly enjoyed myself, and after the initial awkwardness about my presentation. I have relaxed and am chilled out by the end of the evening. After a nightcap, we all retire to bed. This time I get to use the bathroom uninterrupted as I go to the toilet and brush my teeth before bed.

Emily and I enter our room and I lock the door behind us. As I close the door I see my uncle look at us, and I simply wink. He has seen us both enter the room and there is no hiding the fact that we are both fully dressed, and therefore will be undressing together.

As Emily has already seen me naked and at least partially knows my secret, I have no worries about stripping in front of her.

As I have more layers of clothes, I take longer to undress. Emily lies naked on the bed on her side facing me. The makeshift divider is lying on the floor where she dumped it yesterday. I finish undressing and lie opposite her. We both look at each other’s bodies. I notice that Emily seems to be slightly aroused at my strip show.

“Emily, I don’t consider myself a lesbian,” I whisper to her so that nobody else can hear us. “I have tried to make myself look as feminine as possible, but have done so from pictures. I’ve never had any opportunity to actually feel and explore the real thing.”

Emily grins at me before reaching over and taking my hand. She places my fingers on her crotch and whispers, “Go ahead, as long as I get to do the same to you. I think I’m bi, and you are really turning me on.”

We spend the next hour exploring each other’s bodies. Emily has to bite down on a pillow several times to stop herself from screaming out in pleasure. I too find it hard to remain silent as she returns the favour. With my altered anatomy, I find the experience both painful and pleasurable. The constriction from the glue prevents me from becoming erect, but the pleasure overcomes the initial discomfort.

This does lead to an awkward question from Emily over the emissions, or rather lack of them, that I produce. I have to explain that I have deliberately removed some of my parts. This shocks her and she pulls away from me, frightened by the lengths to which I’m going.

I immediately start crying and pull her back to me, sobbing into her chest. I break down and tell her my innermost desires and fears about being a girl. She comforts me as I cry.

We are disturbed by a tap on the door. Emily flicks on the light, jumps out of bed and throws her nightie over her head letting it fall round her as she dashes across the room. I pull the covers over me so that I am hidden and she gingerly opens the door to her father. He comes into the room and sits on the end of the bed.

“What is going on in here? I thought I heard crying,” he asks quietly so as not to wake the others.

I pull the covers back to reveal my tearstained face. “Did anybody else hear me crying,” I ask worriedly.

“I deliberately left our door open so that I could hear if you two got up to anything,” he states. Both Emily and I turn red as we realise that he probably heard more than crying.

“Why don’t we head downstairs so that we can talk,” he tells us. I nod and Emily passes me my dressing gown and leads her father out of the room. I have pulled the covers down far enough so that he can see I am topless, and he turns away, assuming correctly that I’m naked.

I slip the gown on and follow the other two quietly down to the kitchen.

I let Emily take the lead as I am in no emotional state to speak.

“What did you hear, Daddy?” she asks cautiously.

“I was deliberately staying awake listening to see if anything happened,” he admits, “I heard some movement and whispering, but not enough to hear what was said. I listened to what I think where giggles and squeals of joy. It then went quiet and I could hear sobbing. I was worried that perhaps one of you,” he was specifically looking at me, “had pushed too far and the other regretted it.”

Emily looked at me, took a deep breath, and said, “It was me who went too far. I forced myself onto Simon and made him have sex with me. I was horny and wasn’t satisfied with what we agreed, no penetration. I pushed myself onto him and made him go further than he wanted. He is worried that I might get pregnant.”

“I see,” he says calmly. “You do realise that you have both broken the law and could get prosecuted. Normally the boy is accused of rape, as it is difficult for the female to be the aggressor, but it isn’t impossible for it to be the other way round.”

Having already spoken with my uncle on the subject, I know what he is doing. He wanted Emily to feel the consequences of her actions and realise that she could get hurt or into trouble if she carried on flirting the way she had been. It didn’t occur to him that she might go this far, and it would be me who got hurt, although he doesn’t know why.

“Did you use contraception?” he asks.

“No, Daddy,” she replies.

“In that case we better see if we can find a clinic to take you to tomorrow in order to have a morning after contraceptive pill,” he states, still talking calmly and quietly at his daughter. “I am sorry Simon, I should have realised that this could happen. I won’t hold you accountable and will smooth things over with your parents. You, young lady, are in serious trouble.”

I decide it’s time to intervene. “Sir, Emily is lying in order to protect me,” I declare, “she is still a virgin, I did not, and in fact cannot have sex with her, at least not in my current state.”

I stand up and open my gown to reveal my lack of male genitalia. My uncle looks at my crotch with surprise.

“I learnt a cross-dressing trick off the Internet, whereby an ice block is used to make the testicles withdraw into the body, so that the scrotum can be pulled over and glued to give a feminine appearance,” I state. The statement is true, and I don’t specifically say this is what I have done, as it isn’t, but I let my uncle assume it’s the method used.

“I can still get aroused, although I’m incapable of having an erection. I expected getting aroused would be uncomfortable, but didn’t expect it to be quite as painful. I was actually enjoying the discomfort, but in the end it became too much and Emily had to bring me to climax in order to relieve the pressure. I was crying with relief.” Again, I am telling the truth, but omitting certain facts.

“I think it may be an idea to unglue yourself before you get hurt,” my uncle says.

“I can’t, I don’t have any solvent. I have checked and a friend of mine has some that I can use before school on Monday,” I reply. “Don’t worry, I have done the research and I’m not in any physical danger and can manage until then. Just don’t tell my parents, I don’t think they would approve.”

There is some solvent in the bunker, but I won’t need to use it. While telling the truth, I leave out certain facts to give a slightly false impression to my uncle.

“I must admit it is an odd way to perform safe sex. I had no idea that you were into sadomasochism, but I am not going to judge you. I won’t be saying anything to your parents, other than you proved your trust. You, young woman are still in trouble, but we will leave that talk until we get home. Now get back to bed, and get to sleep, no more messing about,” Uncle Peter instructs.

We walk back to the bedroom and climb in bed, removing our clothes as we do so.

“I can’t believe he didn’t blow his top,” Emily whispers to me.

“He still might, although that doesn’t seem to be his style,” I reply, “I think he is aiming for guilt-tripping you rather than shouting. He effectively told me to go ahead and push you to your limit to see how far you would be willing to go. He is testing you to see if you can be trusted. I suggest when you have your talk you tell him the truth, don’t hold anything back, including my secrets if that is what’s required. I’m willing to risk him telling my parents. I realise my ploy can’t last much longer. Let’s get some sleep, I’m exhausted.”

We cuddle into each other and slowly drift off to sleep.

We wake up at around seven the next morning. I can already hear my father moving the cows outside. As I move to climb out of bed, I wake Emily up. She stretches and decides to get up, stating she needs the loo.

Figuring we could be heading for a repeat of yesterday, we grab our robes and leave the bedroom. The upstairs bathroom is occupied, so we head downstairs to see if the other one is free.

As we enter the utility room, we see that the door is locked. Emily stands and dances on the spot, looking at the back door. She starts to head towards it when the bathroom door opens. Uncle Peter doesn’t have time to leave the room before Emily runs at the door and pushes her way inside.

He looks at his daughter who is now stood by the toilet, dancing from one foot to the other. He comes out of the room, but instead of closing the door, he holds it open. Turning to me he says, “Well, get in there before she wets herself.”

I am surprised at his instruction, but seeing how desperate Emily is I comply and enter the bathroom. My uncle winks at me as I pass saying, “Have fun, but not too much.” He closes the door and I turn and lock it. As I do so, I hear the splashing of liquid, and a huge sigh of relief from Emily.

“Are you always this desperate in the mornings?” I ask as I take my gown off and hang it up.

“Yes, my alarm is set five minutes before everyone else’s so that I can get to the bathroom when I wake up. If it’s occupied I have to dash outside and water the plants,” she replies as I start to brush my teeth while standing naked at the sink.

We swap places so that I can use the loo and she can brush her teeth. We then start the shower and proceed to wash each other down. We are not attracted to each other sexually - there is no chemistry between us - but that doesn’t stop us from enjoying each other’s company while showering.

We dry ourselves off and put our gowns back on before leaving the bathroom. We come to a sharp halt when we find my mother outside the door.

“What do you two think you are doing?” she shouts angrily. We both freeze and stand looking at her, uncertain what to say.

My uncle appears behind her and says, “Exactly what I told them to do - which is less than you were doing at their age - or should I tell them about the school trip to Spain?”

I have never seen my mother go red as quickly or as brightly as she is now.

“Unlike you, I know Emily here is still a virgin,” my uncle continues as both Emily and I look at my mother in surprise, “the legal age of consent in Spain is thirteen instead of sixteen, and she took advantage of that difference. The school and both sets of parents were less than impressed when they were caught. They may have gotten away without being arrested, but the bollocking they got back home made up for it.”

“It didn’t stop you and Anne doing exactly the same thing the following year,” my mother replies.

I smile as I suddenly work out why my uncle seems so relaxed about us appearing to be taking part in underage sex. Different values and rules apply in different countries, and as both our parents took advantage of the varying laws to do something that isn’t normally allowed here, they can’t really shout at us without being hypocritical.

I wondered how he was going to smooth things over. I didn’t realise it would be so simple. My mother’s objections melt away once her history is revealed.

“Besides which,” my uncle adds laughing, “what’s wrong with two girls sharing the bathroom. I assume Jasmine is still with us, not Simon, as I believe the dare is still on. You may have outsmarted the boys yesterday, but I think they may get their own back today.”

As we walk into the kitchen, James and Kevin are sat at the table eating breakfast. They are already dressed, and I can see that they have indeed managed to outmanoeuvre me. I can tell by the direction that the buttons go that the plain white shirts they have on are technically blouses. Instead of trousers, they are wearing tartan skirts, which to the untrained eye appear to be kilts. Their sports socks and trainers can be considered unisex. I don’t bother asking what is under their skirts, as I suspect they aren’t wearing any underwear.

Everything they have on can be considered girls’ or unisex clothing. However, despite this, they still look masculine. While it is unusual to see boys in kilts, it isn’t completely unheard of. Unless you look closely, it looks like they are wearing boys’ clothes, even if they are slightly unusual.

“Do you like our outfits?” James asks.

“We got the idea after Hamish wore his kilt to the wedding,” Kevin adds.

“We persuaded Stacy and Marie to help us with some clothing,” James explains, referring to two of their cousins on their mother’s side who live within walking distance of the wedding venue.

They may get a few funny looks for wearing kilts, but they are not going to be ridiculed for appearing in girls’ clothing. They won’t have any trouble in using the toilets as I had at the pub. It doesn’t look like they are going to chicken out of going out in public, therefore the best I can hope for is to force a draw.

“Very clever,” I say as I grab some breakfast, “I promise not to point out what you’re actually wearing if you promise to call me Jasmine instead of Simon.”

“Deal,” the two boys reply after a short discussion.

After eating, I head upstairs to my bedroom. Emily follows me into the room and shuts the door. I asked for her assistance to get dressed. Although I know how to do the makeup myself, I don’t want to admit that so I am making it look like I need Emily’s assistance. The first thing I do is take my kit that I brought from the bunker and with my practiced hand do the makeup that I know works well for me. Using natural shades I emphasis the feminine while toning down the masculine. I soon make my face look rounder and my eyes larger. I draw my lips bigger, my eyebrows into a feminine line and apply some mascara.

After finishing my makeup, I remove my dressing gown and start to get dressed. I begin with a clean pair of white satin panties and a padded training bra that gives me a girlish figure. I then take the dress that I picked out from my collection yesterday and put it on.

The dress is slightly young for me and possibly a little too fancy, but I can get away with it as Sunday best. It is what could be considered a young girls’ party dress. It is pale yellow in colour with a white lacy collar. The sleeves are short and puffy, coming halfway to my elbows and tipped in white lace. The skirt is flared and billows out due to the three layers of petticoats built in underneath. It finishes two inches above my knees and extends upwards to a wide white belt that is tied round my middle with a bow at the back. The belt is above my belly button, giving the impression that my waist is higher and my legs longer than they really are. On my feet, I am wearing what I normally have on for school: a pair of shiny black t-bar shoes. The short white socks are unmistakably feminine due to the pattern woven into them.

I get the final item out of its box and sit looking at it, wondering if I dare wear it. Seeing my hesitation Emily reassures me and taking a deep breath, I place my wig on my head. I use a few spots of glue to secure it in place and then comb and decorate it with yellow hair clips.

I look in the mirror at the girl looking back at me. I am always slightly nervous that I will look like a boy in drag, but today my reflection has no traces of masculinity. Emily looks me over before stating that there is one thing missing. Reaching into her suitcase, she pulls out a nail extension kit. She had her nails done for the wedding and brought the kit in case they were damaged. She makes me sit at the desk while she applies quarter inch extensions and a glittery white polish.

With some trepidation, I follow Emily down stairs. Unlike me, she is wearing what the typical teenage girl would be dressed in given the choice, jeans and t-shirt. I may not be typical in my appearance, but I’m certainly feminine.

Our family are waiting for us in the lounge. I glide into the room, my head held high as one by one each of the people present catch sight of me, and fall silent. Emily is videoing the reaction as my father did yesterday. Today it’s his turn to do goldfish impressions.

“Wow, you look gorgeous,” says James in surprise.

“Thank you,” I reply, before planting a kiss on him as I pass him. Having left a lipstick mark on his cheek I sweep my skirt under me and sit in the chair that Kevin has vacated so that I can sit down. I adopt a sweet feminine pose with my legs crossed neatly at the ankles, knees together and hands folded in my lap.

“So where is it we were planning on going today? I do hope it is somewhere appropriate for the way I’m dressed,” I sweetly state in the most femininely demure voice I can manage.

This causes my audience to reboot from the shocked state in which they’ve been.

“We are going into Norwich for the day,” my father states. “If we leave in the next half-hour we should get there at ten and can get a coffee before the shops open. If we spend a couple of hours looking round the shops we can then grab some lunch. We haven’t been to the Castle Museum and Art Gallery in years. It doesn’t open until one, so we will head in there after lunch for an hour or two.”

“We will head straight home from there instead of coming back here, it will make the journey home shorter. Let’s get packed,” my uncle calls out.

“What about the cleaning of the cattle sheds that those two,” I say indicating my cousins, “were supposed to be doing?”

“Assuming none of you decide to change out of your current clothes or go into hiding until after we have finished looking round the museum, we will call it a draw and none of you have to clean the cow sheds,” my father states, much to the pleasure of both myself and the boys. “I will get that new apprentice from the college to do it when he arrives on Monday.”

I head upstairs with Emily to help her collect her things. It doesn’t take long, as she didn’t bring much with her for only two nights.

We soon set off for the half-hour trip into the city. Emily comes in our car, as it’s less crowded than having to sit three people on the rear seat.

After parking up, we wander to a nearby Starbucks for a coffee. By the time we finish the shops have opened and we take a slow stroll around the city centre. I am getting a few looks in my overly fancy dress, but not nearly as many as the two boys in kilts are. Especially when we walk past Debenhams window, where a tartan skirt identical to the ones that the twins are wearing, is on display on a female mannequin.

The boys are obviously self-conscious about how they are dressed. I on the other hand am having no difficulties whatsoever with wandering round in girl mode. In fact, I am more relaxed than I have ever been and spend most of the time giggling with Emily while looking at clothes.

We decide to split up for an hour or so and meet up later. My father, uncle, James and Kevin go off to look at the menswear and trawl through the male interest stores. There are a few model shops that they decide to look in.

I join Emily, my mother and aunt as we head into full-blown power-shopping mode. I think my mother and aunt are deliberately trying to embarrass me as we keep heading into the lingerie departments of various stores. Emily finds my predicament amusing, for the simple reason I am not in the least bit fazed by where we are going. In fact, I am enjoying looking round the underwear and spot a number of items that I wouldn’t mind owning.

Emily and I are browsing through some of the bras when I notice my aunt and mother speaking to one of the shop assistants. They are stood near a sign that says ‘free measuring service’ so I have a sneaky suspicion about what they are up to.

“When was the last time you where professionally measured?” I whisper to Emily.

“About three months ago, why?” she asks.

“Because I think you may be about to again,” I reply as I see our mothers coming over with the assistant.

Indeed, I seem to be correct as the assistant comes over and asks, “Emily, your mother tells me that you could do with a proper measuring as your existing bras are getting tight.”

“Some of the older ones are now pinching a bit,” Emily replies, “I think I have grown a bit recently and I’ve filled out some more.”

“What about you,” she asks turning to me, “do you also need measuring?”

“I have nothing worth measuring yet,” I reply honestly, “I’m a slow developer, although I hope to catch up soon. I can feel the buds forming and my skin is becoming tender, so I hope I’ll start filling out. With a bit of luck I may be able to switch from training bras at Christmas.”

The woman smiles at me and leads Emily and her mother into a side room to be measured. I wait outside with my mother. I have been relaxed and enjoying myself while with Emily, but standing in amongst the bras with my mother feels strange and slightly awkward.

“You seem to know a lot about bras and breast development,” my mother comments.

“Basic human biology, we covered sex education and puberty two years ago,” I reply, “I am familiar with the stages of development for both sexes, so it isn’t hard to tell her what she expects to hear.”

My mother stands looking at me, trying to figure me out. I ignore her and go admire the training bras for something to do. Emily comes back out and I find out that she has officially gone from an A cup to a B cup. This results in a search through the stands for some new bras in the new size. I assist Emily in finding what she is looking for. Our parents watch and give advice where needed. I think my mother is amused at my assistance.

Emily asks me to come into the changing rooms with her, but I decide that might be pushing things a little too far and politely decline. I don’t want to test my mother’s patience.

After Emily is the proud owner of three new bras, we leave the department store and end up at Claire’s jewellery counter. Emily has spotted some cheap necklaces and earring sets and goes over to take a closer look.

The green beaded necklace and earrings look cute, but I prefer the red ones myself. My aunt suggests that the red ones will go nicely with my hair colour. Emily spots some gold dangling hearts that she really likes, but soon realises that she can’t wear them, as she doesn’t have pierced ears.

“I keep telling you that the choices for clip-on earrings are limited,” her mother says, “If you want the better choice you will have to stop chickening out and get your ears pierced.”

I see an opportunity here and decide to see if I can steer the conversation to my advantage.

“You’re not afraid are you?” I ask, “I would have thought you would be jumping at the chance. Piercings seem to be the in thing at the moment.”

“Not everybody has pierced ears,” she replies, “you don’t.”

“If I could I would, you’re just making excuses,” I say crossing my arms.

“I am not,” she answers indignantly.

“Then get your ears pierced,” I say firmly, “that way come Christmas you can wear whatever cool rings you want and people will have something to buy you.”

“The school likes you to take them out for gym class and you can’t do that for six weeks,” she states, “I should have done them at the start of the summer holidays so that they were healed, but I will now have to wait until next year.”

“Just put sticky plaster over them like everybody else. There are at least three or four people at my school who are currently wearing plasters or tape on their ears during P.E.,” I state. “You’re just chicken. I would do it.”

“That tactic might work on my brothers, it doesn’t work on me,” Emily replies. “Besides which you are only saying that safe in the knowledge that you aren’t allowed to have pierced ears. The ‘I will if you will’ trick only works on a level playing field.”

“Why do you think Jasmine isn’t allowed earrings?” my mother asks Emily. “The matter has never been discussed. As long as there is only one normal-sized hole in each ear, I won’t object.”

I look at my mother in surprise. She has an evil grin on her face, and I get the impression I may end up getting my wish. I look round to make sure nobody is in earshot.

“Are you seriously saying that you are happy for me to get my ears pierced, as in plural, as in both of them?” I ask suspiciously. “Because I thought I would have to argue just to get a single earring, yet you are effectively saying you are happy for your son to have both ears pierced.”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am saying,” my mother clarifies. “If you want to get your ears pierced then I will let you. However, you will have to live with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” I ask cautiously.

She looks round to make sure we are still not being overheard, “I mean that despite current appearances you’re a boy with extremely short hair. If you go through with this, you will be sporting two earrings for at least the next six weeks that will be very noticeable and difficult, if not impossible, to hide. While I can see one earring could be considered cool, I am not sure that two would be taken in the same fashion. It will also look odd if you only ask for one ear to be done dressed like that as girls usually get them both done.”

I smile and giggle. If I was presenting as a boy at school, then it may be an issue. Two earrings on a boy can still be seen as a bit odd, but there are a couple of guys in the older years that have both ears done. The sheer girliness of earrings is actually going to aide me in convincing everybody I am a girl, simply because a boy would be unlikely to do it.

“Trust me, it isn’t going to be a problem,” I reply, still giggling, “nobody is going to care less if I turn up with earrings. Sure I might get the odd comment, but it will be a short lived event.”

Turning to the nervous-looking Emily, I say, “It looks like we have both run out of excuses not to have our ears pierced, let’s go look at the starter kits.”

I drag Emily over to a different counter where they have the starter earrings available. If I am going to maintain my pretence at being a boy, then I should limit myself to the metal balls. However, I’m not keen on them, and prefer the crystal designs. I don’t have to worry when in girl mode, as they are ideal, but I am hesitant about looking silly in boy mode.

I am already skating on thin ice by being in girl mode around my family. How they haven’t figured something is wrong yet, I don’t know. The chances of my masquerade lasting for the six weeks I have to keep the earrings in is unlikely anyway. Therefore, I might as well be happy while I can and I opt for a pair of 3mm clear crystals. They are flatter than the metal balls, so I will have fewer problems in P.E. and they look prettier.

Emily opts for a similar pair but in a rose colour. Our mothers have been filling in the consent forms while we choose, and after paying for the kits, we’re taken over to the piercing station to have them inserted. I pay for my own earrings and avoid my mother seeing which ones I have picked. I opt to go first, before she can change her mind and stop me, and to show Emily that there is nothing to it.

It actually hurts like hell, and I wince when they go in, but I deliberately hide that as much as possible for Emily’s benefit. As soon as I am done, we swap places and she gets her lobes stabbed as well. It brings tears to her eyes, but she desperately fights not to cry. She has a few swear words on hand when the technician asks her if it hurt.

A look of shock and anger appears on my mother’s face when she sees what the technician has inserted into my ears. However, it is already too late for her to complain, and I know she hates making a scene so won’t say anything until we are out of earshot of the staff and other customers.

After we leave the store, my mother asks me if I’m sure I know what I’m doing. I reply that it’s my choice and I can live with it.

After looking round a few more clothes shops, we head to a local restaurant to meet up with the boys. My father doesn’t look pleased when he sees my earrings, but considering Mum signed the consent forms he can’t complain. The twins find it most amusing that I have crystals in my ears. I simply ignore their comments and ask how they like walking round in skirts. This seems to shut them up. I again utilise the women’s bathroom after eating. However, I deliberately wait until after my mother has come back out before entering.

After lunch, we walk up the hill to the Castle Museum and Art Gallery. We spend an hour and a half walking round the various exhibits looking at artwork, the dungeons, and touring the keep’s battlements.

It is mid-afternoon before we emerge into the Castle grounds and head back to the car park where we left our vehicles. We say our goodbyes and depart in opposite directions. I was tempted to kiss Kevin and James goodbye, but decided that might be pushing too far, so I simply gave them a hug, something on which they weren’t particularly keen.

The drive home is tense with not a word spoken between us. I can see the condescending eyes of my father as he looks in the rear view mirror. My mother is annoyed, and has been giving me nasty looks all afternoon.

We are almost home when my mother finally lets rip, “When we get in you can change out of that ridiculous getup before anybody we know sees you. We were lucky at the pub yesterday, but I will not risk our family’s reputation any further with this stupid behaviour. You can take those ludicrous lumps of stone out of your ears as well. The holes should heal up without leaving scars.”

“So you were outright lying earlier?” I accuse her angrily.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” she snaps at me.

“I specifically asked you if you had an issue with me having earrings. You told me you had no objections. I then clarified that meant I could have both ears pierced and you made it clear that it was my decision to go ahead,” I state loudly, “I paid for these to be put in, and endured the pain of having them inserted. Now, only four hours later you are ordering me to remove them. Well it isn’t fair and it’s not going to happen.”

“You signed the consent forms?” my father asks my mother.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Did you tell him he could go ahead and pierce his ears?” my father asks.

“Yes,” she replies again.

“In that case they stay in. Simon is right. It’s not fair to object after they have been inserted. If you didn’t want him to do it then you should have stopped him beforehand, not whinge after the fact,” my father states.

“So you’re happy for your son to go round wearing girls’ earrings for the next six weeks until they can be swapped for a different pair?” she asks. “I thought he was going to put in a pair of metal balls, not some glittery crystal things designed for girls.”

“No, I would have objected and forbidden it from happening,” he replies. “However, I didn’t get that option so I’ll simply live with the decision, as will you.”

My mother shuts up, but I can tell she is fuming still.

“I considered the balls,” I say, “but these are easier to hide. They are a lot flatter, so when covered with some tape and coloured with some makeup, they won’t be as noticeable. If I had the balls put in, then they would stick out twice as far and even when covered it would be obvious I have lumps on my earlobes. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

I will be hiding them primarily when in boy mode at home, and what I have said is accurate, I can hide these better. Although my main reason for picking them is their girliness, and the fact they are cuter.

“What’s the point of having earrings that can never be shown?” my mother asks with annoyance.

“You are assuming that I’m actually going to hide them. I have already considered the reactions I will get to wearing these, and they aren’t what you might expect,” I reply. This is true, as they will be seen as normal. “Yes I will get some teasing, but nothing worse than I already endure. Thanks to Mike, everybody thinks I’m gay anyway, so why not play to the stereotype.”

Given the tension in the air, I decide to go out as soon as we get home, quickly running up to my room to grab the jumpsuit I wore yesterday. Not bothering to change into it, I shove it in a bag and head downstairs to collect the buggy keys to make my way to the bunker.

“Where are you going?” my mother shouts as I storm past her.

“Out,” I shout back, “I’m going to return the dress and wig. I don’t know when I’ll be back, probably later this evening.”

I slam the door as I leave the house and run to the barn before either parent can stop me. I floor the buggy out of the barn, power sliding it round the yard and skidding down the tracks flinging dust in the air as I hurtle towards my woodland sanctuary.

After parking the buggy and making sure it’s hidden from sight, I unlock the bunker and descend into my safe haven, locking the door behind me so that I can’t be disturbed.

Today has been both a good and a bad experience. I was able to be myself for the first time around family, but also confirmed my suspicions that they will never accept me as a girl. I have pushed them to their limit, and it’s ended in hostility. I can’t go on living like this. At least I now know there is a chance that my uncle will support me when I have to come out. He seems chilled out and much more open than his brother does.

I spend the rest of the afternoon and evening cleaning and combing my wig to get the dust out of it that I collected on the ride to the bunker. I pack my dress away in its airtight container for another day, changing into the jump suit. I cover the earrings with tape and makeup, proving my theory that they can be hidden. For tea, I heat up a can of soup using the camping stove. I don’t fancy going home, so I will wait until bedtime. I will get in trouble, but I simply don’t care anymore. I have had enough.

I fall asleep in the canvas chair with a blanket over me. When I wake up and look at my watch, I see it’s already half past ten. I reluctantly get up and head outside. It is dark, the sun having set three hours ago. Using the torch to see what I am doing, I lock the bunker and uncover the buggy. I had pulled a camouflage net over it in case it was spotted.

I slowly drive back to the farm. The buggy has lights, but they aren’t very bright. The night air is cool, but comfortable. The nights are still mild as summer turns to autumn when the nights rapidly close in. I keep the revs low to keep the noise down as I park in the barn. I can see the kitchen light is on as I cross the yard to the house.

As I traverse the hall to the stairs I hear my father call out to me from the lounge, “Simon, come here please.”

I walk into the lounge. My father is sitting in an armchair, with his feet up on a footstool. The Sunday paper is on his lap as he completes the crossword. A half-drunk glass of whiskey is in his hand. I note that my mother is not present. I assume that she has already gone to bed. We are of the ‘early to bed early to rise’ philosophy, utilising as much of the hours of daylight as possible. I take a seat opposite, trying to judge his mood. He doesn’t seem angry; in fact, he seems calm and mellow.

“Simon, you and your mother have a lot in common. Both of you are stubborn and can be singleminded. Once you have decided to do something, you see it through, which can be both a good or bad thing. You both tend to rub each other up, and because you are so alike, you get on each other’s nerves,” he states calmly. “You were challenged into dressing in the maid’s uniform and you stood up to that trial with dignity and resolution. You obviously put a lot of thought into your decisions. You took risks, but they were calculated ones.”

I nod, wondering where this is leading, surprised that I am not getting a bollocking.

“I suspect you wanted earrings, but were too afraid to ask, knowing that we would object. Your mother let you go ahead, but she’s upset by your choice of style,” he says, “I notice that you have covered them up, and you are right that they are not that noticeable due to their shape. I thought at first you had chosen rashly, but in hindsight, everything you have done over the last two days has been carefully and methodically worked out.”

He finishes drinking his whiskey before continuing, “I don’t want you to confirm or deny what I am about to say. I know that you have worn the maid’s costume before, as I have seen you use it when cleaning the cottages when you thought nobody could see you. I don’t understand your motivation, and I don’t want to know, but I think the term cross-dresser is applicable. You seem to like dressing up as a girl and you get a kick out of it. I don’t approve of this behaviour, but I’m not stupid enough to try to change it, as I know it won’t do any good.”

I sit in shock at his statement. He is acknowledging my cross-dressing and isn’t making an issue about the subject. This is not what I was expecting, as it’s out of character.

“I made mistakes with Mike that resulted in him leaving. I don’t want to make that mistake with you,” my father admits, “I can see what you are doing. You have unfairly been labelled due to the actions of your brother. Rather than let them get to you, you want to prove yourself as an individual, and the way you seem to be choosing to do it is by going metrosexual. By deliberately dressing and acting effeminate you are effectively saying up yours to your would be bullies.”

I can understand his reasoning. However, he hasn’t worked out the real motive as of yet. Curious I ask, “You don’t object? I wouldn’t have thought that you would approve of me opting for such a style.”

“I don’t approve, but I’m not going to stop you. You want to wear girls’ earrings to school, then you take the risk and the consequences. Don’t complain if you get bullied because of it,” my father states. “If you want to dress as a girl occasionally then fine, but keep it discreet. I can’t see that going over well with some of the more traditional views of our friends in the farming community, so please keep this in the family.”

“Thank you,” I reply, “I will do my best not to disappoint you, however I do fear that the day will come in which I will fail.” The day he finds out about me attending school as a girl will qualify.

“My brother was most impressed by your restraint and maturity with his daughter,” he adds, “He wouldn’t say how he knows you’re both virgins, but he stated that he was certain it was the case. I was reluctant to let you two share a room, as I thought you may not be able to resist temptation. Alternatively, if you did then it might mean you were gay. However, you seemed to enjoy each other’s company without going too far, which is more than Peter or I can claim.”

“Spain?” I ask and he nods. “Uncle Peter told us what happened. I’ve never seen Mum go so red so quickly.”

“How did you convince him?” he asks.

I go bright red; this is not something about which I’m comfortable talking. “It’s a bit embarrassing. After the first night, and what happened in the morning, I suspected that Emily might want to take things further the second night. When I went out to get the additional clothes, I also physically restrained myself with a technique used by cross-dressers, with my friend holding the release mechanism so that I couldn’t give into temptation.”

Okay, so I’m partially lying again. I am restrained in that I have glued myself up, but it’s permanent rather than temporary for this weekend.

“I think I’ve heard enough,” my father raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t query further. “I promised your mother I would speak to you and I have. You also shouldn’t have stayed out so late. We have never given you a curfew, so technically you didn’t break any rules. I won’t ask where you were this time, but don’t do it again, now let’s get to bed. We have work to do in the morning.”