Just how easy is it to do or say and not worry too much about reaction and feelings. A lack of thought or empathy. Understanding or accepting… well that takes effort and some will not even consider the reasons and are blind to possibility.

This is one of those dark and un-redeeming type things conceived while I was in a mood. You know, one of those where for a few days everything is grey and a bit bleak and nothing you say is right and nothing fits and nobody likes you and you don't eat right and maybe drink a little more than you should, which of course... but you still sort of function and carry on and most don't notice.
It deals with the less desirable side of people. So if you want up, or frills or some redemption or hope…um, give this one a miss huh.

This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2008.

Progression

By Kristina.L.S.

He sat a little hunched over, a pose he often took. If he thought about it at all it might surprise him that he didn't walk that way or have some sort of hunchback and mutter about bells a lot. But then with his mother frequently admonishing him for being too shy and timid he supposed the follow up walk proud thing held sway to some degree, but he did have a reason to walk tall. Not that he was… well he had little to be proud of, but he did try to look as though he believed he had some worth.

So here he was another happy birthday and the only greeting he had this morning was his old man with a," Well sixteen, so I hope you start acting like a man from now on, you're not a kid any more…", before he'd headed off to work.

Mum had been a pinch more chirpy with a peck to his cheek as she brushed his hair back and quietly wished him, "happy birthday darling, when are you going to get your hair cut. You're nearly a man now, can't you be more like your brother?"

Rod had just smirked through his toast and muttered "Yeah ya little sissy." Which got him a glare from Mum and a muttered, " hey only joshin', happy birthday little bro."

They'd headed off to school together but Rod had split off pretty quickly, with a, " have a good day eh Josh." Which was as close as he got to showing concern and he'd probably dismissed his brother from his thoughts the instant Greg and Geoff had appeared. They'd both, hey Joshed and then forgotten him as they all headed off down a different path.

A little under two years difference and they didn't want to know. Admittedly all three had stopped him getting a hammering on more than one occasion, but unless they practically walked into it they left him to sort it himself. He had plenty of occasions to be not very good at sorting it for himself.

The actual beatings were not that frequent, it was the ostracism and the pushes in the back and recently the text messages… Those messages really got to him. He wasn't really sure why some jerkoff sending messages about sissy pussy or poofta bait bothered him so much, they just did. He'd 'lost' two phones and it usually took about three days for them to find the new number. The ID was always blocked, though he knew if he complained they could be traced, but he never did. What good would complaining do? He was enough of a target already.

He looked around and tried to judge, how many? Maybe a hundred, hundred and fifty? Then he subdivided the people who hated him… maybe twenty or so. Those indifferent, oh… nearly the rest. Sort of friends or at least friendly; well maybe a dozen or so. So how many did that leave? Did he have any friends? Hmm, I guess Mike, Pete and maybe Jen. At least they talked to him and tried to involve him in stuff.

Funny, he'd used to be considered fairly smart. Now he couldn't concentrate anymore and his marks were sliding. Rod was doing well and would go to Uni next year. No one seemed too bothered that he wasn't getting anything like he had been. One teacher had asked if anything was bothering him. Mr Randall, but then he was gay and no-one took him seriously. One of two male teachers on a staff of thirty and he took the teasing and jibes and tried to do his job and he was actually pretty good. But Josh secretly wondered if Mr Randall fancied him and that bothered him though it wasn't because he was a guy it was because he was gay. Just why that was so he hadn't figured out yet. Though he did suspect it had something to do with him wanting to wear girls clothes. Not that Mr Randall knew that but maybe he could tell somehow and that didn't bother him and that was weird too.

He'd been working at the garage for a couple of years now, weekends and Thursday nights when the mechanics were on. He worked the till and had no real problems. It was pretty mindless and he kept his money and bought bits here and there. Mostly at the supermarket mixed with other things pretending to read from a list. Well there was a list, but it was his. So he built up a supply of pantyhose and stockings. A suspender belt or two when they did those Mothers day packs. A couple of silky slips that he loved to sleep in. Some camisoles and cotton knickers in varied colours and with little bows on the front. He'd had to venture further from there. Target and the like at Christmas, Mothers day, Valentines… some bras and matching panties. A few skirts and blouses to suit. Finally and most daring, a couple of pairs of heels. He'd trimmed some of those cheap insoles to his foot outline and slipped those in to check the size. His first and still his favourite was the glossy black slip ons with the three inch heels, slim and sexy and he just loved the feel and how they made you walk.

His little pouch of cosmetics that he'd sweated over for weeks and then he'd gone in and spoken to the girl and she'd kidded him about being embarrassed and how nice it was he was getting his sister a present for her first full time job and she wished she had a brother who'd spend a couple of hundred on her and the perfumes and the hold all pouch was a free gift with the purchase, so he had a nice basic kit all to suit his colouring.

Trouble was it started to show and he walked more like a girl and that was probably why he didn't slouch and he knew that everyone thought he was gay and for some reason he didn't want to be thought gay even though he thought maybe he was. But then he didn't want Mr Randall and he was gay but when Greg stood up for him his stomach flopped and fluttered like a … well he didn't know what like. Yet when he'd leant against Greg to thank him he'd jumped as though stung and the hurt curdled his stomach and he'd thrown up right there.

He was pretty sure Greg had not said anything yet he knew everybody knew and it seemed the taunts got a little louder and the pushes more frequent. The coughed, poofta became his call-sign and everyone knew he was nearby when they heard it. There had been a few minor punishments, the odd detention and reprimands. But that just meant they had something else to hate him for. Funny the girls were almost worse. They'd joke about being buddies and sharing makeup tips and at first he'd been terrified that he'd left a bit of mascara on or something, but it was just teasing. They'd offer him a lippy to try and as he stood or sat blushing and confused they'd poutingly coat their lips and then laughing link arms and saunter off.

When one of them had accidentally wiped his bottom lip with a glossy pink she'd blinked a couple of times and then angrily finished the job as he sat stunned and then stuck the tube in his shirt pocket. They'd stomped off muttering that time and then a couple of guys had come up and called him a little perv and given him a hiding. It was never that serious, just a few bruises and some tattered pride. Just boyish play his mother assumed though how that fit with his manner otherwise he never quite understood. Rationalising he guessed, boys will be boys or something.

He didn't bother anymore, barely spoke and spent his time reading and trying to see how or if he might fit somewhere. There were all these theories about various types and all those words reduced to initials just to make things simple when he knew it wasn't really that simple and his own father had smacked him to the floor and his mother had looked on with disgust all because he'd been mimicking a girl on the TV putting on eye makeup. They'd all sat and watched him for however long, maybe thirty seconds when bam he'd hit the floor and Rob had just sat there looking sad and ashamed and called him a fuckin' sissy and no-one had called him on it.

He'd just gone up to his room and it was though it had never happened except his cheek ached for a while and was a bit puffy the next day. He wanted to cry but he didn't he hadn't for a long time. He just sat and after a while went to bed.

He didn't sleep much after that and often would spend the night trying on his few clothes and getting made up and then because he had no-one and it didn't matter he started to go out and walk around the block. Careful to keep to paths he knew and always ducked into shade and kept still if a car came of anyone was walking, but that was pretty rare.

Old Mr Coustas sold the garage and the new guy didn't want a kid working there so the job was gone. He tried to get a casual in a chemist shop but of course they wanted a girl even if they couldn't say so. Naturally the girl they hired went to his school and soon it was all over about how he tried to get the cosmetics sales job at the local chemist. Which was of course exactly what he had tried to do even if it wasn't advertised as such and he didn't even bother to try and deny it. He just didn't care and the smirks and jibes went almost unnoticed which strangely caused them to lessen but he didn't notice that either.

He wasn't sure how it happened but he'd started to wear a bra and pants under his school uniform; pantyhose as well if it was cool though he kept socks on too so no-one would notice. He thought the camisole would be mistaken for a boys singlet, but maybe the strap showed or something. Well anyway one of the girls called out that he had a bra on and then someone pulled on his shirt and next thing the buttons popped and he was surrounded and he didn't know how many but his shirt was torn off and his trousers pulled down and then off as he was knocked to the ground. The camisole got stripped over his head and his shoes and socks went the other way and he was left lying in a circle of a dozen? Twenty? Well it didn't matter but the calls and whistles went on as a chant of .."Off, Off, Off, Off." Started up. And feeling completely numb he had just stripped off the cotton panties and then flicked off the bra as some girl commented in a sarcastic tone that you could tell he'd done that before as he stood there stark naked not even attempting to cover himself. Then a few coins landed at his feet as a guy called fifty cents for a blow job honey. Then someone muttered teacher and the crowd scattered as he pulled on the shirt and trousers and just walked off leaving his underwear scattered on the ground.

It was early afternoon and he got home easy enough. A nice hot shower, so he tucked his hair under the plastic cap and made a decision to use that Nair he'd kept hidden for months rubbing it all over arms legs and under and between, waiting looking at his watch as ten minutes ticked by and then rinsed off with a face washer rubbing away the light blonde fuzz and he was glad he didn't shave. It took a good half hour to get his makeup done right and he even did his nails though they were shorter than he wished, at least the shape was ok.

Then he dressed in his favourite black bra and pant set, suspender belt and stockings and they felt lovely without any hair at all. The cobalt blue silk blouse that looked almost like a sleeveless vest was next and then the little flirty black skirt that sat only just below the stocking tops and finally his favourite shoes and he stepped into them and bent his left and then right knee in to see and swirled once with an almost giggle.

Then he sat and carefully pushed a safety pin through first his right and then the left earlobe and with a cotton ball dabbed peroxide on to stop any bleeding. Seventy dollars they'd cost and he'd never dared but now he slipped them into the holes and felt it as they swung with each movement. A little stiff maybe due to the slight swelling but at least they were on. Brushed his hair for several minutes until it gleamed and sat, just so.

Finally he grabbed the little clutch purse and squirted some Je rivien that a sales girl had promised his girlfriend would love and truthfully he loved the gentle flowery scent. He almost didn't look as he slipped the long slim box in as he winked at himself and practically bounced down the stairs and out the door. Delighted to be free and just walking in the late afternoon sun. He strolled apparently without purpose but he ended up exactly where he knew he would. That little willow-grove near the river where the sun angled through and it looked sort of like something from a fairy tale.

He sat cross-legged and just watched the light as it danced on the water and smiled as the family of ducks trooped across in front of him and gently splashed down and paddled along the bank.

It was probably about an hour, the sun was beginning to set and scattered dark golden sparkles where silver had been. With a sigh he slipped the slender box out and pushed the small metal hook to release the lid, which swung open on the ribbon hinge.

It had been his grandfathers and he doubted anyone knew he had it. It had been a gift to a young boy almost ten years earlier as the old man had joked of only using an electric now because his hands shook and you'll be needing it soon son. He'd died a few years ago and that was the last time he remembered crying.

It stung a little and then burned for a minute before numbing as he sat, posture erect, almost as though meditating. He left it sitting on the grass in front of him next to his bag and just watched the trees and felt the gentle breeze ruffle the hair at his neck every so often.

He wasn't quite sure why but the sun seemed to be bigger and brighter and yet the light was less and a dog barking in the distance seemed to be very sad and he felt a tear run down his cheek, hoping it didn't smear his makeup. He watched a women on the other bank chase the retriever laughing as it bounced and jumped in front of her.

He could see her laugh and he watched the dog barking playfully yet he couldn't hear it and wondered why that was. There was sound but it was sort of like putting a large shell to your ear and hearing the sea.

Strange, he'd felt hot at first and then gradually colder until he was shivering slightly but he sat there in this semi lotus position and watched the night come. He wasn't shivering anymore yet felt cool and there seemed to be a strong wind though nothing moved. The leaves on the nearby trees were nearly completely still, just a slight tremor as of the mildest breeze and yet the wind roared…