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When I arrive in school on Friday morning, I head to the school office to drop off a letter to Mr Henry. My mother has written a note explaining our “friend’s” intentions regarding raising my attendance with the school governors.

During registration, Mr Francis finds there is a note in the register addressed to me. It thanks us for the information and informs us that the school is already arranging a governors’ meeting, to discuss the issues following the demonstration. It is scheduled for Thursday evening next week.

During break time, Alison asks if we have remembered to bring our swimming costumes. I had put a big post-it note on the fridge so that I wouldn’t forget this week. This also prompted the other girls to pack their own, having almost forgotten due to the disruption of being in a new home. I am slightly nervous that Bart and friends will cause us more trouble. I have gotten away with it up until now, but I’m worried how long my luck can last.

I don’t have time to dwell on the issue as the bell goes for my maths class. We are currently covering trigonometry. I have to devote all my concentration into solving the problems, and soon put the pool issues out of my mind.

Lunch is a sedate affair spent gossiping with friends. The highlight for me is being able to sneak some time alone with Josh on the pretence of sharing notes for science. While we cross-reference each other’s notes from an experiment carried out in the classroom this morning, we also find time for some discrete kissing.

When the final bell of the school day rings, we head out of the classrooms once dismissed, and after a quick stop off at the lockers congregate at the bike sheds. Once all five of us are gathered, Mary, Jill, Wendy, Alison and myself, we mount our bikes and cycle slowly in the direction of the swimming pool.

We decide to use a different bicycle rack today, as we had problems with the boys last time. I see David - one of the boys causing us trouble - standing outside the front doors. On seeing us approach, he disappears inside. I get a bad feeling about this, wondering what they have planned.

The other girls also spot the danger and surround me as we enter the building. There is no sign of any of the boys as we walk up to the counter and pay our entrance fees. Nobody challenges us, so we cautiously walk along the corridor and slip inside the changing room, into what should be safety.

None of my friends recognises the pair of girls sitting in the changing room in their swimming costumes. They have obviously only just changed, as they are still dry. They appear to be waiting for something and I suspect it is for my arrival.

Stephanie and Michelle went to my previous school, but now attend Lakeside instead of Brahms High. They immediately stop talking and look in my direction. I decide to play dumb and follow my friends to a bench on the other side of the changing room.

It looks like I may have been recognised, so before I’m challenged I decide to use my physical changes to my advantage. I put my bag on the bench then immediately hook my fingers into the top of my skirt and knickers and pull both down with one swift movement. I deliberately turn to face the direction of Stephanie and Michelle as I pull my jumper and polo shirt over my head, temporarily obscuring my face. As I do so, I can take a sly look at the girls through the fabric while they can’t see that I am looking at them. They are watching me and have slightly puzzled looks on their faces.

I unzip my bag, and pull out my swimming costume and cap, before walking naked across the room towards one of the toilet cubicles. I need to use the toilet anyway, but it also serves as a method of hiding my swap from headscarf to swimming cap without the girls seeing my lack of hair. I relieve myself, and dress in the swimsuit and cap.

Coming back out of the cubicle, I rejoin my friends and pack my clothes into my bag ready for putting in a locker. I note the girls that have been watching me get up and leave the room.

Once they are out of earshot, I inform my friends that I recognise Stephanie and Michelle. We put our bags in lockers before heading out towards the pools cautiously and quietly. As we are about to exit we hear voices and come to a stop to listen.

“I’m telling you, Bart,” I hear Michelle say, “that I know the difference between a cock and a cunt when I see one, and there is no way that girl is a boy.”

“Well he certainly used to be a boy, I’ve seen him in the showers often enough,” Bart replies. “You remember him losing his swimming trunks at school last year?”

“Well if that is the same person, and I’m not convinced, she doesn’t have anything now,” Stephanie adds. “If we try to make a complaint, then all she has to do is remove her swimsuit. We’ve just seen her naked and there is no evidence of her being a boy.”

I smile to myself. I thought it slightly suspicious that they were sitting waiting for us. It appears Bart and friends have recruited some of the girls to spy on me and then make a complaint. Only another woman can make a valid complaint about me being in the wrong changing room. It seems after seeing me naked they realise they are going to have a hard time convincing anybody I’m in the wrong facilities.

I hold my head up high and stroll past the group of foes, my friends following closely behind ready to surround me at the first sign of trouble. David notices me and gives me a mean stare as he calls out, “Hey, Simon, you remember these lovely ladies don’t you.”

I sigh and come to a stop, I turn to face my taunter and say, “It’s Simone, not Simon, so unless you want to be permanently known as Daisy I suggest you at least try to get my name right.”

I can hear Alison sniggering behind me as I continue, “Just what is it about my gender that you lot fail to comprehend. I have told you before I’m a girl and now you have had that verified by independent witnesses,” I gesture towards Michelle and Stephanie, “who have just seen me walk naked through a room full of women, none of whom reacted in any way to my presence. If I had any male genitalia then I’m sure there would have been at least one objection. However, as I lack such appendages, that didn’t happen. My friends and I have had enough of your harassment and if we have any further trouble we will be filing a complaint with the management to have you banned. So stop trying to cause trouble and keep your nose out of where it isn’t required.”

I swiftly turn and walk towards the main pool, my friends following behind in silence. We enter the water and swim through the myriad of people to a free corner and simply float and relax. We swim a few slow laps chatting and giggling for around fifteen minutes before Jill, Mary and Alison head over to the second pool to do some serious laps in the dedicated lanes. Wendy and I swim to the centre of the main pool as they switch on the wave machine and tread water in the foot-high swell.

After ten minutes, the wave machine is shut down and we swim to the edge on a part shallow enough to stand on the bottom; trying to keep position against the push of the waves is tiring. As we catch our breaths, Stephanie and Michelle swim over to us. I am first alerted to their presence by Wendy’s scowl, as they swim up behind me. They drop to a standing position a couple of yards from us and wade over sheepishly.

“Sorry about earlier,” Stephanie says as she reaches us, “those boys are complete jerks and I don’t know why I let them talk us into coming here. They have been spreading rumours about Simon at school. I was curious, I guess, to see if they were true.”

“That and you fancy Steve rotten,” Michelle adds with a sly grin.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reply, “I’m well aware of my resemblance to my male counterpart. As long as you accept that I’m a girl, then I don’t have any problems.”

“No problem here, no boy could possibly walk through the changing rooms undetected. I’m Stephanie, and this here is Michelle,” Stephanie states.

“As you gathered, I’m Simone, and this here is Wendy. The other elder girl with us earlier is Jill, her sister Mary is in the blue suit, and the girl in green is Alison.”

Although I don’t like using the moniker that is so close to my old male name, I would rather not reveal my preferred identity. Knowledge is power, and although many people know the connection between Simon and Jasmine, I would prefer the boys didn’t find out. I don’t fully trust these girls yet, especially if they twig that they are talking to the person they know as Simon.

“The boys do look good strutting their stuff on the diving boards,” I say with a grin. “It’s a pity they then have to open their mouths and demonstrate the intelligence of a fish.”

The others laugh and we relax a bit. Wendy then suggests riding some slides, so the four of us head off to have some fun. After losing my swimming cap once before, and being very self-conscious without it, I make sure to have a hand on my head as I hit the water trough in the bottom. I get a face full of spray, but don’t lose my headwear.

The slides often come out quite a way from the starting point and it is not always possible to see the endpoint while queuing. There is always a member of staff at the top, who does have a clear sight of the exit, but they often are standing on the other side of the slide from the queue.

I don’t notice that Bart is positioned near the end of the current slide as I enter. Michelle and Stephanie have gone before me and Wendy is going to follow me down.

I have been on this particular slide before, and I know that I am unlikely to lose my swimming cap. The exit is gentle, unlike some where you hit a wall of water. Because of this, I’m not holding it on my head when I exit, which turns out to be a big mistake. Bart is waiting off to one side, and before I know what is happening, he has grabbed my swimming cap off my head. He throws it a distance to where Steve is waiting, who runs round the corner of one of the pools before lobbing it to David who disappears into the male changing room with it.

“Hey, what the fuck?” I swear as they steal my headwear. I quickly scramble to my feet.

“Stop trying to pretend you’re a girl, Simon,” Bart states in a loud voice.

Everybody in earshot immediately turns to look at the commotion, and I can’t help but turn red. Now that my masculine looking hairstyle is visible, I start to feel self-conscious, but have no option but to bluff the situation out. Wendy comes to a halt behind me as she exits from the slide. She scrambles to my side.

“You arseholes!” shouts Wendy, the anger obvious in her voice.

Bart’s antics have gotten the attention of several members of staff, who come over, including the woman I spoke to in the changing rooms before. Alison, Jill and Mary have also realised what is going on and rush over to join us.

“What is going on here, young man?” the female staff member asks me to my annoyance.

“Those idiots are harassing me again, if you remember they chased me into the changing rooms a few weeks ago,” I reply angrily, “and I’m not a boy, despite my stupid haircut”.

Stephanie and Michelle are looking on trying to figure the situation out. My haircut hasn’t changed much since they last saw me a couple of months ago. The only change being that my hair is a fraction longer now, but still undoubtedly a boy’s style.

Alison arrives and immediately asks, “Please get Mr Catchpole down here.”

The employees seem to hesitate at the name, but Alison repeats the request, this time putting more force into her voice.

“If you won’t get him down here, then we will go to see him,” she states, “I suggest you get on your radio and get him to meet us at the south staff access door if you don’t want to explain why we are going to be trailing water through the offices.”

With that, Alison turns towards the rest of us and tells us to come with her. I don’t know what she is planning, or who this Mr Catchpole is, but Alison seems to know what she is doing. I follow her lead, anything to get away from the stares of various people trying to figure out if I’m male.

My friends and I, including Stephanie and Michelle, walk swiftly behind Alison as we head to the doors, leaving the employee behind, now talking into her radio.

We reach the side of the building where we are greeted by a tall elder man in a suit. I notice that he is wearing an identification badge like the other staff members. His reads, “Mr B Catchpole, Leisure Facility Director.”

“What is going on here?” he enquires, as he looks us over, “I have just had a report of a boy pretending to be a girl and causing disruption.”

“Uncle Brian, my friend here is not a boy, she just happens to look like one due to her hair,” Alison states as she puts her arm round me, “you remember I had the same issue after Tom put glue in my hair gel.”

A spark of recognition goes over his face at the mention of Alison’s previous incident. The staff members who had come to speak to us before catch up with us and the manager dismisses them. He then asks us to follow him, and we head into a seating area normally off limits to the public. It is an area that the off-duty lifeguards can use during breaks and is a designated wet area so it doesn’t matter that we are dripping over the floor. We sit on the plastic seats and he enquires as to what has just happened.

“I came off of the slide and Bart grabbed my swimming cap off and chucked it to Steve who in turn chucked it to David. He disappeared off into the male changing room where none of my friends can follow,” I explain. “He knows I’m self-conscious about having my hair this short, but I didn’t have an option. I can’t wear a wig to the pool, so I opt to keep my head covered by either a swimming cap or headscarf while here.”

“Why did they do that?” he asks. “I don’t understand why they think accusing you of being a boy is going to get anywhere. Sure, they can publicly embarrass you for your appearance, but they must know that it won’t stick and is likely to get them into just as much trouble for making obviously false accusations.”

I turn to Alison, wondering how much I should say. Alison looks at me sensing my apprehension, then turns to her uncle and explains, “Simone here is a post-operative transsexual. I have seen her naked a number of times, both in gym class at school and here in the pool changing rooms, and it’s not possible to tell that she is anything other than female while naked. In fact I didn’t learn about her past until Bart started to harass her, which was after we had been swimming together and I had seen her naked in the showers.”

I can hear gasps coming from Michelle and Stephanie as they realise that Bart had been correct about my identity all along, having not believed that I was Simon. Wendy and Jill both give them threatening stares to keep them quiet. They take the hint and don’t say anything.

“Uncle Brian, I assure you that Jasmine acts with the upmost discretion and doesn’t cause any problems while using the female changing rooms,” Alison states calmly. “Since I started bringing her here to swim, she has used the facilities a number of times and must have been seen naked by at least a hundred different women and none of them have given any hint of disapproval. There is no way that it would be appropriate for her to use the male facilities anymore.”

“Mr Catchpole, I knew Simon when he was a boy,” Stephanie adds, “Bart told me about seeing him here dressed as a girl, and asked Michelle and I to watch him in the changing rooms and then make a complaint. The person we saw in the changing rooms was not the boy we knew, but appeared to be a girl of similar appearance. It wasn’t until just now that I realised what was going on. To be honest, I do find it weird, but for some reason I don’t find it uncomfortable knowing that I could be sharing the showers with her.”

“Same here,” Michelle agrees, “as far as I’m concerned, I don’t think she’s a boy either. I always thought Simon was a bit girly, didn’t realise it was because he is one.”

“In that case we don’t have an issue here,” the man replies with a smile. “It’s up to management to decide who can use the facilities, and as the senior manager for the complex, I say you are welcome to use the women’s changing room.”

I sigh with relief, the tension flowing out of my body. I hadn’t realised how rigid I had been holding myself, but I now relax, letting myself slump slightly in the chair.

“Thank you, sir” I say softly.

“Those boys on the other hand are about to find out they aren’t welcome. I’m going to issue them with a three-week ban from the premises. That means the whole holiday camp, not just the pool area,” he states.

Pulling a walkie-talkie out from his pocket, he starts issuing instructions. After a few minutes, one of the male lifeguards turns up carrying my swimming cap.

“Little Eddy is making sure that the boys behave and leave. They are in the changing rooms as we speak,” he states, “He will bring them along to apologise in a minute.”

We sit and wait and it’s not long before the three boys, now dried and dressed, appear with a very large security guard. ‘Little’ Eddy must be at least six foot six and is so wide that he only just fits through the door. Most of his mass appears to be pure muscle: he has the physique of the contestants on ‘World’s Strongest Man’.

The boys sheepishly apologise for causing me trouble before they are escorted out.

“I’m sorry about that,” Mr Catchpole declares, “All seven of you will have a full refund for today’s swim. Stop by reception on your way out and ask them to call me to come down. Now, I suggest you all head back to the pool and have a nice relaxing swim. Have fun, ladies.”

We head back out to the poolside and find a quiet spot in one of the smaller side pools. The seven of us float about in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about misleading you earlier,” I say to Michelle and Stephanie, “but you realise that things could easily get very nasty for me. At least Bart hasn’t beaten me up yet. I would appreciate it if you kept my change of sex to yourselves. If you don’t want to be in the changing rooms at the same time as me, then I fully understand.”

“I meant what I said earlier,” Stephanie replies, “I’m having a hard time seeing you as a boy, even with that short hair of yours. Every time I try to imagine it, I simply can’t get the picture of you naked out of my head. I know I should be upset and appalled at the thought of being seen by a boy, it just isn’t happening.”

Michelle shrugs her shoulders in agreement with her friend. I guess I will find out for certain when we head back to the changing rooms.

We spend the next half an hour swimming, enjoying the wave machine for a second time when they switch it on once again.

Exhausted, the seven of us make our way back to the changing rooms. I unclip the key from my swimsuit and open the locker containing my bag. I notice that Michelle and Stephanie do the same. I am about to ask them if they are sure that they are comfortable with my presence, but I don’t get the opportunity as Stephanie drops her swimsuit to the ground. Michelle isn’t far behind and they both disappear off into the showers, not showing any regard for my presence.

Soon all of us are washing ourselves under the jets of warm water. There are many other women in the changing room and nobody seems to be paying any attention to me. I once again feel relief at being accepted for what I want to be, rather than what I once was.

We dry and dress ourselves. I put my headscarf back on to cover my boyish haircut. Once again, it’s only Mary and I in skirts, the others opting for jeans or leggings.

We make our way out to the reception where Alison asks for her uncle. He joins us a minute later and issues us refunds.

“Simone, there is somebody I would like you to meet, if you have a few minutes to spare,” he states.

I reply that I have time. I bid farewell to Stephanie and Michelle, who have to get home. Jill, Wendy, and Mary head off to the café, with vouchers from Mr Catchpole. Wendy states that she will phone home to let my parents know we are running late and why.

I’m escorted through the private corridors of the complex with Alison by Mr Catchpole. I am slightly nervous, but this is Alison’s uncle and she assures me that he can be trusted. We come back out into the public areas near a beauty salon.

We enter and the woman on the counter at the front immediately directs us through to a private room in the back. We are joined by a young woman in her twenties. Her head is shaved on one side, the other being long and sticking up in a Mohican. The other striking thing about her appearance is the number of piercings she is wearing. She has five studs in her left ear, one in her eyebrow and one in her nose.

“This is Jessica,” Mr Catchpole introduces us, “she is one of our more eccentric stylists and has experience in creating styles with little hair. I phoned her up while you were swimming and explained your situation and she is willing to have a go, free of charge.”

Jessica removes my headscarf and looks me over before saying, “I understand you used to be a boy, and by the look of it you haven’t had opportunity to grow your hair into a feminine style. Most people associate buzz cuts with boys, and most girls who try it end up looking masculine unless they have very feminine features. Your features are neutral so the effect of your hair is pushing you slightly too far towards the boyish end of the divide. I might be able to help you there. You don’t have much to work with, but I think I can spice you up a bit and give you a more feminine presentation.”

“I normally wear a wig in girl mode. I still need to appear as a boy occasionally, so I haven’t been able to grow my hair out,” I say sadly.

“I think it’s about time you changed that,” Alison states, “you spend ninety percent of your time as a girl now. Wouldn’t it be easier if you had a girl cut and hid it for the ten percent of the time you spend in boy mode rather than the other way round?”

I think about this for a moment. My parents had been the main reason to keep my hair short. Now that they know, there is no need for me to hide any more. The only time I might need to be a boy is if visitors come over, in which case Alison is right, I could hide my hair then.

“I guess I have nothing to lose. Worst case scenario I simply shave my head and go back to square one,” I declare, “I can still rely on wigs and headscarves.”

“Okay, what school do you go to?” Jessica asks.

“Brahms,” I reply, puzzled.

“Right, that limits us slightly. If I remember their rules correctly, they require hair to contribute to a businesslike appearance. No extreme styles, colours, or decorations are allowed. My hairstyle would probably get me sent home. Well you always have the option of continuing to wear the wig, so let’s push the boundaries a bit,” Jessica explains. “You ideally need to shout feminine and I have an idea on how to achieve that. Do you trust me?”

I think about this for a few moments before answering, “Not entirely, but I’m willing to let you do whatever you want. As I said, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Go for it.”

I am asked to sit down in the chair provided, which has been spun round so I’m facing away from the mirror. I guess I’m going to get the clichéd ‘not allowed to see it before it’s finished’ routine. I have read enough TG fiction to know that this is the big moment in a t-girl’s life. I am entirely underwhelmed by the prospect. I’m a realist and I know I have very little hair to work with, so I’m not convinced that Jessica will be able to do much.

Mr Catchpole leaves us to it as Jessica grabs a trimmer. She approaches me and says, “The key to this is getting rid of the uniformity. What I’m going to do is vary the length and colour. Most male buzz cuts aim to be regular and symmetrical, and we don’t want that.”

I feel her run the trimmers up the sides of my head. After a while, she switches to a small narrow trimmer, and I feel her carving patterns. Various bottles of chemicals are pulled out of a cupboard and applied to various sections of my hair. I have to sit under a warm hairdryer for a time during which the chemicals do their work. I’m not sure what she is up to, but I assume she is applying dye.

After the timer has rung, she rinses my hair and dries it. Taking a large tub of hair gel, she then starts to apply it to the top of my head. Lastly, she does some work to my face, pulling a few stray eyebrows.

Finally, I am spun round to look in the mirror. I’m immediately impressed by what she has managed. I no longer look masculine. The sides of my head are now almost shaved bare. My natural hair colour is very dark, but the sides are now jet-black and trimmed exceedingly short, only a few millimetres in length. The edges of my hair have been made wavy and there are two lines shaved in each side that weave up and down round my ears. One once side I have a flower shaved into my hair, the other side I have a butterfly.

The top of my head has been left uncut. It has now grown out to just over a centimetre long since I last buzzed it and its now standing straight up in little pyramids all over my head due to the gel. The longer hair has been dyed a light chestnut colour to contrast the dark black hair down the sides.

The back is a mixture of longer chestnut and shorter black. The longer hair has been shaped in an S shape down the back of my head, wide at the top and snaking down to a point. The colour is graduated from light chestnut at the top to almost blonde at my neck. The sharp contrast against the blackness of the nearly shaved part is striking.

Jessica and Alison, who has been watching closely with interest, are pensively watching for my reaction. Slowly a smile creeps across my face as I admire Jessica’s work.

“Wow!” I declare, “I see what you mean; I couldn’t imagine a style like this on a boy. You have truly worked a miracle. I really like it, it has a retro-eighties feel to it, yet still seems ultra-modern, and most importantly, feminine.”

“Here,” Alison hands me my headscarf, “put this back on temporarily and let’s go surprise our friends.”

I grin at her reasoning. After thanking Jessica and giving her a hug, we head out to the front of the salon. Alison’s uncle is waiting for us, and he escorts us back to our friends. I pull off my scarf to looks of surprise from the girls. They adore my new haircut, not that any of them would ever be as daring in their style, but considering what I have to work with they think it’s wonderful.

I get a surprise of my own a few minutes later when both my parents walk in. I stand nervously waiting for them to say something. My parents are very much the country tweed style of demeanour. The radical style I now possess isn’t something I would expect them to like.

My father grins at me while my mother remains neutral in expression, getting me to spin round so that she can see the full effect.

“Considering what they had to work with, I think they have done a marvellous job,” she states, much to my relief.

“It seems to work well,” declares my father, “as long as you’re happy with it then I’m happy with it.”

“I’m happy with it,” I reply with a smile.

“Come on, let’s get you lot home,” my father states, “It’s getting dark outside and I know your bikes don’t have lights, hence us being here.”

We walk outside and head to the bike racks. I see the Land Rover parked nearby, towing a trailer. We load all the bikes into the trailer and my father instructs Mary, Jill, and Alison to get in. They climb in, Jill in front and the two younger girls in the back, and my mother gets in the driver’s seat.

“We figured we wouldn’t get you all in, so I have come in the car as well,” he says as my mother drives out of the car park in the direction of Alison’s house.

I walk across the car park with Wendy and my father to where my father’s Jaguar is parked. I climb in the back, allowing Wendy to ride up front. We exit the car park and drive home.

As my mother has to go via Alison’s, we arrive home first. As soon as we get in my father switches the vegetables on to boil. Half an hour later, we are all sitting down to roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and vegetables.

Feeling very full, and tired from swimming, we all settle down and watch television for the evening.