Rights retained by author  ©by Essarr Permission granted to Big Closet Exclusively

~o~O~o~

The steady buzz of my alarm is annoying me as is mother’s voice calling from downstairs.

“Jean-Marie it is time to get up. Doctor Cox will be here in an hour.”

I crawl out of the bed dreading what is coming for me. ’What will the doctor think when she discovers the freak?’ I spend considerable time in the shower. My breasts are stimulated by pulsing water. ’Good grief they are getting bigger.’ My panic steadily rises as I again hear mom.

“Honey father and I are leaving are you up yet? Answer me please.”

I call down announcing I am in the shower and promise faithfully that I will be ready. Ready for my execution that is but I did not say that part. While sitting at my vanity preening my hair what I see unsettles me. The girl wearing a bra and panties stares back at me from the mirror. ’She is really pretty and cannot be mistaken for a boy. Did I really plan a complicated charade to be friends with the girls? How could I consciously delay puberty and stifle growth of my male parts? Why would I do that? Does anyone believe a computer game could cause this?’

By now I am completely frustrated. Pam, Becky and Traci thought I was a boy pretending to be a girl. Check that. They thought I was a boy who looked like a girl. Traci is now convinced I am a girl after seeing me naked. I can’t blame her for that because I agree I look like I have girl parts. Craig an Evan always knew I was a boy. We did boy things together for four years. In the last couple of weeks Evan kissed me and said I was pretty. It was the other thing he told me on the phone yesterday that has me freaked.

The reason Craig is pissed off if because he thinks I was a girl all along. I was playing head games making fools of them. He cannot wrap his mind around the truth. The computer game did this. I look into the mirror for a final review. My cream colored camisole top rests at my waist even with my skirt. The chocolate wrap around wool skirt reaches slightly above my knees. My thought is since I must undress for the Doctor this outfit is the right choice. The pretty girl in the mirror speaks to me.

“Do you really think after looking at you, Craig could possibly think you were ever a boy?”

I step back still gazing into the mirror. I cannot maintain my anger at my ex best friend. If I were honest, I’d admit in his shoes I’d come to the same conclusion. I go downstairs to have a bowl of cereal before Emily Cox arrives.

“You like really nice today Jean-Marie. I see you are wearing your birthday skirt and top.”

I smiled thanking Doctor Cox for her compliment as I swung my legs into her front seat. My expression is a serious one as I stare forward resisting conversation.

“Are you just a little bit nervous honey? Don’t be I need to check you out to see what the problem is with your puberty delay.”

I exhaled slowly thinking. ’It is not that. I will fall to pieces when you discover I am a fraud. I am going to lose all my friends.’

I did not say any of this and if I were the Doctor I’d be thinking this kid is a wreck.
When the horror of the exam ended, thank God, she did not do an internal. Doctor Cox ushered me into her office. I gritted my teeth expecting the worse. The questions were gentle which surprised me.

“Honey have you noticed any spotting? I ask because indications are your period can come at any minute.”

Those words were gentle? She is telling a boy his period is eminent. How do I answer that question?

“I have not noticed any spotting at all.”

My eyes must have expressed horror because Doctor Cox squeezed my hand.

“Dear it is not the end of the word you are growing up. Spotting can be a nuisance. It often stains your clothes so when you learn your cycle time wear panties that are grayed. You know clothing you don’t really care about.”

“So I am ok? There is nothing wrong with me?”

To me both were stupid questions that I should have been able to answer. Of course, I am not ok. Of course, there is something wrong with me. Boys do not spot and do not have a cycle. Is this woman telling me, I am one of them?

“Doctor Cox my breast are getting too big.”

Then I made a mistake. I said the wrong thing.

“My penis is shrinking it is almost gone.”

You should have seen the expression on Emily Cox’s face when I said that. She actually laughed out loud. I closed my eyes waiting for the explosion.

“Jean-Marie you are not the first girl who referred to an inflamed clitoris as a penis. Is that why you have been acting like you were scared? You thought you were some kind of freak?”

I started crying and the more I tried to stop the faster the tears flowed. This beautiful woman hugged me close for several minutes. When the tears slowed to a sniffle she spoke again.

“I bet you thought that we would think you were a boy pretending to be a girl. Am I right?”

I nodded still sniveling and then played it.

“I did not want you hating me. Traci is my best friend and I thought I’d lose her.”

Doctor Cox stroked my hair explaining how these things can happen.

“I discovered through the tests that were done you have an anomaly in one of your x chromosomes. There is a small twist in it. Sometimes that causes minor physical complications. With medication short term the swelling will go down. Have you notice some leakage from it?”

Another unspoken thought formed I kept hidden. ‘How did she know? I used to pee out of it that is why I know it is a penis.’ Instead of letting that escape, I answered sheepishly with a simple “yes.”

“It is one of the rare anomalies. You see there is a tube that extends from your bladder to that tiny hole below your vagina. The hole is called an urethra. You know where your urine come out. In your case there is a second tube that extends to what you thought was a penis.”

I stared at Doctor Cox eyes wide open with an amazed expression. She hugged me again.

“You thought when urine came out of there it was because it was supposed to.”

She is nodding her head up and down slowly.

“When you found wet spots in your under ware from your urethra you thought you wet your pants. We can close the extra tube in my office it will not hurt. Your breasts did not grow a lot in the last week. I can tell the way your bra fits.”

I am still speechless because this answers a lot of questions. I am not a freak. I am almost normal but a bit confused. That raises another question. Who is going to tell my parents? Not me!

“Jean-Marie, I have a personal question for you. I did not want to ask your parents because I may offend them.

This certainly piqued my curiosity. Now I am all ears.

“What question is that?”

“Honey you don’t know it but I got my medical degree at McGill in Montreal. I know that Jean is a male name. I understand how male-female and female-male hyphenated nomenclature works. Why did your parents give you a male name?”

I blinked yet another time. I did what any kid would do in the situation. I lied.

“Actually it is Jeanette-Marie. You know how everybody shortens things.”

She smiled seemingly accepting my lie. I thought she did anyway. I must have missed her dubious smile.

“I will take you home and then call your mother to assure her everything is fine. If you need me to be with you please call.”

---

As you can see the situation keeps sinking deeper. I am no closer to resolving this than before I found out I am a girl. There is a certain amount of relief in knowing I am not some kind of freak. I know from the internet that boys who dress like girls are considered lower than pond scum. We did not have any of those at the Willie. My experience is seriously limited regarding boys who want to be girls. My urge to look pretty is normal. But I still cannot do it. When I thought I was a boy knowing I was not brave caused problems. Because I was not strong, bullies targeted me. I hated myself for being weak. I am a girl. I am not supposed to duke it out with the jocks. I sink down on my bed understanding one thing. I am still weak I cannot reveal this girl thing to my parents.

Can you imagine raising your kid thinking he is a boy to find out he is a girl? You think you might feel just a little bit stupid? You think you might feel just a bit guilty over screwing your kid up? I can justify not telling them because I am concerned about their feelings. The truth of it is, I am weak and scared shitless.

The moment of truth is sneaking up on me. I only have one more week before starting Exeter. The uniform thing terrifies me. The idea of wearing that boy outfit will not work on any level. I am a real girl and I refuse to pretend otherwise. I am dying to wear the pleated skirt, apply makeup, get a perm and have my nails done. Do I really have to sit down with my parents and shatter their world? A phone call provided misguided relief.

“This is an emergency session of the Maple Street Girls Club. Get your butt down to the library.”

That was the voice of Pam Michaels. With nothing else to do I threw on my shorts and tee. Then hustled off to the library. The three girls all hugged me piling on with big smiles. Becky spoke first.

“Traci told us. I cannot believe you were a girl all the time.”

Pam added her perspective.

“Would you rather she be a cross dresser or fag? I knew you were a girl all along.”

I teased Pam because I could not resist.

“You had a crush on me and it does not bother you to find out I am a girl?”

Pam poked me just as Traci smiled while making her comment.

“Mom told me your name is really Jeanette not Jean. I did not tell her you lied about that. She did the whole French hyphenated name thing. She was pissed your parents could stick you with a male name. She bought the lie about Jeanette because it is easy.”

“She did not say anything to mom did she?”

I asked nearly panicked.

“No she did not because she believed you. But that brings me to another question.”

I could hardly wait for that other question. From their expressions Pam and Becky were dying to hear it.

“Your parents really think you are a boy don’t they?”

I struggled not wanting to answer her but there is no escape. I just nodded.

Three voices at the same time uttered one word. “Shit.”

Becky raised a wide smile.

“It is time to plan.”

That is the point where my deception dug a deeper hole. Not that it was not deep enough. According to Becky this will be simple. I just wear my girl uniform to school and change out of it before my parents see it. She thought we could simply buy a boy uniform for my closet. I can wear it to show my parents. Everybody knows they will want to see me in the uniform.

I looked at her doubtfully while Pam encouraged pursuit of this plan.

“You will be riding to school with Traci and will be home before your parents. Why won’t it work?”

The girls were good with that thinking it a perfect plan. That is until Traci spoke up. “What happens when Dave shows up with a bouquet at the Lafleur house? He will expect to see Jeanette in her prom dress. Have you considered that?”

Another chorus of shit followed.

Mrs. Cox seemed satisfied with that but still appeared suspicious. Even worse, I know Mrs. Cox is going to let my parents have it one of these days.

“You will have them when I pick you up at three?”

Once again I exhaled slowly nodding hoping we can drop the subject. While I am talking about this, I may as well finish. I had to scarf up another fifty dollars for a boy’s uniform as well. I know, don’t tell me it is a weak plan but the best we could come up with. Pam Traci and Becky shared in the cost each chipping in. After all, it is their hair brained idea.

The freedom and the annoyance of the girls uniform presented itself throughout the day. I loved the feel of the skirt while dreading the careful movements I had to execute to keep from flashing. Traci teased me dreadfully pointing out every stare I earned from the boys. I have to admit some of the guys were hunks. I hate thinking that way because I was brought up differently.

Pam gushed when seeing Ben Bryant, the school jock. She introduced me and the boy’s eyes darted from Pam’s chest to mine and then down to our legs. I thought I was being measured for a trophy case. After he wandered down the hall, Pam spoke.

“You were.”

“I was what?”

“You were being measured for his trophy wall. The word is he has the school record for initiating virgins.”

“Pam what are you saying?”

I could not believe what she just said.

“It is true though they think it is a big secret. There are four or five of them that have a contest. Whoever scores with the larger number of virgins wins a thousand bucks.”

I nearly panicked.

“Who is playing this game?”

She recited the name of five jocks warning me to stay away from them.

I did not need convincing and resolved myself to steer clear. I wondered how is being a pretty girl is different than being the nerd victim of bullies? I thought being a popular pretty girl was an advantage. I am quickly learning I am nothing more than quarry for hungry predators.

Doctor Cox approved of my uniforms. I had them in one of those plastic garment bags. The boy uniform was mashed between the girls unseen by looking at the bag. You should have seen us crammed into a stall in the girls room. It was a chore trying to slide that uniform between two others.

I promised to return Traci’s uniform after I washed it this afternoon.

“Jeanette you don‘t have to. I was not angry after all I gave it to you. I was just curious why you had not gotten you own.”

Her explanation was reasonable but it still bothered me. I am wary over her new habit of calling me Jeanette. I can hardly wait for her to drop that in front of Simone and Claude.

Traci helped me do the laundry. I needed to wash the uniform I wore as quick as possible. I am glad for her help because at least five boys from school called wanting to introduce themselves. I dispatched each of them as quickly and gently as possible. I managed to stash my three girl uniforms plus the one I washed and hang up the boy one just in time before the folks got home.

Traci the coward, excused herself the moment they arrived. She whispered.

“I would rather be home and hear the explosion from there.”

I no sooner set the dinner table when mom and dad arrived and Traci fled. I took great pains to prepare stuffed peppers and chef salad with hot French bread. Mom and dad beamed upon smelling the food. I half expected hearing some sort of pleasant surprise. Instead mom said something else.

“Honey you are not wearing your school uniform. We wanted to see how it looked. You were able to get them weren’t you?”

I nearly freaked out. The last thing I wanted to do was model that stupid outfit.

“They are already cleaned and hung up. I did not want to wear it while cooking with tomato sauce. You know how that splatters.”

Mom smiled obviously pleased at yet another lie. Well, I did wash, dry and press a uniform. It was not exactly a lie. More like a president’s lie by leaving out an important piece. Those guys do it all the time.

“I hate to be a pain” mom began. “Could you show us what it looks like after dinner?”

I nodded agreeing not wanting to but going along with them. Then dad has to open his mouth. He had to say something that caused me to spray a mouthful on the table.

“Traci Cox is such a pretty girl. Are you interested in her? Do you plan on asking her out?”

“Uh no dad we are just friends and dating would ruin a perfect friendship.”

Mom tossed me an odd glance while I wanted to say something I could not. I wanted to say I had the hots for Dave McCauley. We ate in silence other than the dreaded questions. You know the ones, did you make any new friends? Do you like the school? I gave the most noncommittal answers I could while praying this will end. I stood to clear the table and mom spoke again.

“You are a great cook Jean-Marie. I will clean up so you can show us your uniform. You do too much work around here as it is.”

There is no way around this. It is a good thing I was prepared for it. The uniform was already laid out on my bed. I struggle into the pants. Struggle because I hate wearing pants. I put on the oxford shirt and tied the stupid tie. ‘Why do they insist you put a noose around your neck? I know so they can pull you along by it.’ I started downstairs stopping abruptly when my image from the mirror caught my eye.

‘O.M.G. look at my chest. My breasts were enhanced by the form fitting oxford shirt. I never considered that. I grabbed the blazer slipping into it. It helped when I buttoned it. The tie made things worse. The stupid thing lay right at my cleavage. I turned slowly gazing into the mirror. Satisfied with the jacket I was less obvious. I had an idea. So I yelled downstairs.

“Do I have to wear this stupid tie?”

Dad yelled back thankfully. Being a man he understands the hatred for neckties.

“That’s ok son you do not need to wear the tie. Having to wear it all day is enough.”

By removing the tie and loosening the top button it helped hide my chest. The material of the shirt did not form to my body as close. Cautiously, I descended the stairs in the hope this will be short and painless.

As they gaze at me an interesting dance begins. Dad’s eyes drift toward my chest and I turn slightly in mom’s direction. When she starts to appraise my shirt I again shift toward dad. This seems to be working. Then mom says.

“Let me see your shirt.”

Still looking at dad, I offer.

“It’s a shirt a common everyday stiff white oxford.”

I am resisting turning toward her. I know she is more observant than dad. ‘Thank you father,’ I suddenly think.

“Simone, The boy is right. It is a common shirt and it looks fine.”

“If you, insist. The jacket looks good and the pants,” she stops.

Suddenly, her fingers slip under the waist band in the small of my back. ‘Did she feel the lace of my panties? Shit, shit, shit.’

“Not too snug. It seems a perfect fit. You have great fashion sense for a boy Jean-Marie.”

I exhale slowly thinking I may escape yet. Then dad offers his wise ass comment.

“And he can cook with the best of them. Great fashion sense, terrific cook. Someday you will make a fine wife.”

“That is enough of that Claude Lafleur.”

Mom exploded giving me an out. I break toward the stairs.

“I am getting out of this monkey suit.”

Quickly, I close the door to my room breathing a sigh of relief. It takes almost no time to ditch the clothes and hang them in the closet. They are in full view while my real uniforms lurk in the dark. ‘I cannot take much more of this.’ I sit at my vanity wearing bra and panties thinking I had better put a robe on. In case mom decides to visit. Either that or get dressed. I decide on my skinny jeans and tee. As I said I cannot take much more of this when the more visited me.

I am lying on my bed pulling up my skinny jeans. That is the posture required to get these things on. Yeah I know it is not the brightest thing to wear jeans that enhance my hips and rear. I know, I fret about this all the time and it causes odd glances from my mother. Give a girl a break. I need to feel like me once in awhile. It was then I noticed my greatest fear. I find spots in my panties. I nearly scream I am not ready for this. How could I not be ready for this? Perhaps I did not believe it was going to happen. Perhaps my act convinced me, I was a boy pretending to be a girl. Whatever, the reason reality slapped me. I grabbed my cell.

“Traci, help my visitor is here.”

“Really are you sure?”

“How could I not be sure? Nobody sneaked in and stabbed me.”

“I’ll be right over.”

I ran downstairs to meet Traci at the door. I know the rule, no girls in my room. Mom and dad were watching TV.

“Can we use the computer in the den?”

“Go ahead you know better than to go on those sites we don’t like.”

We rushed into the den.

“Let me see.”

I peel back my jeans lowering them to my knees. The spots were getting larger. Traci reaches into her purse handing me a box of Tampons. Her face turns bright red.

“Do you know how to use these?”

I flush again shaking my head obviously no. Then I say something stupid.

“I am a virgin it will bust my cherry.”

After Traci stops laughing, she removes the paper wrap handing the foreign invader to me.

“You are clueless aren’t you? If I did not know better, I would think you are a guy.”

I stared at her my fear evident by my dilated eyes.

“Jeanette your hymen is an expandable membrane. It is also porous it allows menstruation to occur. You know pass the flow through it. It also yields allowing the use of a tampon. The tampon will not damage it.”

I looked at her dumbfounded.

“They did not give boys these lessons in health class did they?”

“Of course not I had no need to learn this crap.”

“I guess you were wrong. Jeanette, I will tell you how to do it. I am not about to touch you there. Doing that for myself is yucky enough.”

We both laughed our asses off on that one.

“Do not flush these things down the toilet. Major problem happens that way.”

She then explained the whole toxic shock issue scaring the hell out of me. She insisted I change often.

“Stick them in a plastic bag and dump them in the girls bathroom at school.”

We talked for several minutes until Traci hugged me.

“Welcome to girlhood you are one of us now.”

“Don’t go telling Pam and Becky.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Traci went home with the silliest expression on her face. Mom caught it and had to say something.

“What was so funny?”

I answered with the usual, nothing and fled upstairs.

I sit here with a corncob stuffed between my legs staring at my bottom drawer. Under my jeans two skirts, multiple pairs of panties and two tops are hidden. At some level I know they will be discovered and the shit will hit the fan. Now I have to hide Tampons. Is this what you get with the joy of finding yourself?