The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2988 by Angharad Copyright© 2016 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“C’mon, Charlotte, gi’s one.”

“Piss off, Brownlowe.”

“C’mon, Watts, wrap those luscious lips around my dick.”

“Force her down, boys, make her take it in her mouth.”

No matter how hard I struggled, my hair in long plaits, they forced me down onto my knees and apart from being sexually assaulted, and assaulted generally, I was worried about laddering my tights or getting my skirt dirty—yeah it was during the time of the Scottish play and I was wearing the girls’ school uniform and makeup, because it pissed off my dad. It obviously gave some of these morons the wrong idea.

“Let me go, I’ll do it,” I screamed and the idiots believed me. I was released and still kneeling I said, “If you make me do this it makes you gay, you know that.”

“No, Watts, you’re the gay one, so get licking you pansy.”

“You know I’m a boy, right?”

“So what, you look like a fucking girl, so get sucking.”

“But you know I’m not, so that makes you a homo,” I said quietly to him. His erection seemed to deflate before my eyes.

“You bitch,” he said and swung at me but I ducked and he hit the wall, just then the door opened and a man’s voice sounded.

“Just what is going on in here?” It was old Whitehead, now I’d be for it. “Why are you kneeling down in the toilets, Miss Watts?”

“I uh thought I dropped a button, sir.”

“Well get up and get off to your class, girl.”

“Uh yessir,” I said and sprang to my feet, picking up my Care Bears backpack as I did. I was out of there as quickly as I could move. My shoulders hurt where they’d wrenched my arms back and my hair was sore where they’d pulled on my plaits. That was Siân’s idea and she did them for me as we walked to school, she also ladled on the mascara like it was going out of fashion.

“Ah, Miss Watts, so good of you to join us,” the chemistry teacher, Smelly Tompkins, used what he considered wit, the rest of it thought it was as feeble as his knowledge of chemistry. Andy Ross, who was brilliant at chemistry, ran rings round him. The only seat available was next to Ross, so I sat there probably looking as flustered as I felt.

Throughout the double period, one of theory and one of practical, I felt Ross’ eyes having a good look at me and it made me feel hot and bothered. As Tompkins’ voice droned on and he scribbled equations on the whiteboard, Ross said to me, “You’re always on time, what happened, Charlie?”

“Got waylaid by a gang of dickheads.”

“Not a certain Keith Brownlowe by any chance?”

“He might have been there.”

“So, he got his blow job did he? I am disappointed, Charlie.”

“No he bloody didn’t, all he got was a sore hand.”

Andy snorted, and Tompkins looked round then continued back to his board. “Sore hand—what pulling his dick?”

I giggled quietly, that hadn’t occurred to me as an interpretation of what I’d said. Controlling myself, I explained, “He took a swing at me and hit the wall.”

“Good girl,” he said and smiled. He was quite good looking but I wasn’t into boys at all, even though I knew I was really a girl, I couldn’t let it be generally known or my life really would be hell and it was bad enough as it was.

Tompkins droned on about the benzene ring so I assumed we were doing aromatic chemistry. I really ought to listen as it features in biochemistry quite a bit, but Ross was distracting me. It was all right for him, he understood it all, it was me who didn’t.

“How long you going to be dressing like a girl?” asked my companion.

I shrugged and tried to scribble down the notes from the board, “Dunno, Murray said as long as we’re rehearsing and doing the play.”

“Oh right, so beyond the weekend?”

“Three more bloody weeks, I think, why?”

“Wondered if you fancied seeing a film on Saturday?”

“What?” I gasped, loud enough for Tompkins to hear it.

“Miss Watts, would you care to share what that was all about?”

I sat blushing like an enraged tomato the sweat pouring off me, a trickle ran down my back under my bra strap disappearing somewhere in the waistband of my skirt.

“I’m waiting, Miss Watts,” he began tapping his foot and the whispers going round the lab got noticeably louder.

“Mr Ross, perhaps you’d care to enlighten us?”

Andy blushed but looked him in the eye and said, “I was trying to explain the way the hydrogen and carbon atoms bond in the ring, sir, she had some difficulties with it, sir.”

“Mr Ross, I have some difficulty with your explanation too. Miss Watts, you will read the chapter on the benzene ring and précis it for me. You will hand this in on Monday, is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” I said blushing. I’d rather have gone to the flicks with Andy than waste my weekend doing that.

“Tell you what, Charlie, come to the cinema with me on Saturday and I’ll dictate what you need to write;” said Andy as soon as Tompkins went back to wasting marker pen ink on the board. One week, some wag replaced the water based pen with a permanent marker. It apparently took hours to wash it off with solvents.

I wasn’t doing anything on Saturday anyway so why the reluctance? I wasn’t sure but it was probably something to do with not wanting to be seen to like boys because that would raise issues of being gay. I got away with it going out occasionally with Siân, because they thought it proved I wasn’t gay—or did I think that? Really, I didn’t think I was interested in boys or girls, except in the latter’s case, I was interested in becoming one, if I could.

After we’d finished playing with test tubes, we cleared up the lab and Tompkins reminded me of my punishment. Andy held the door open for me, “I feel guilty, that was as much my fault as yours. Let me help you with the essay.”

I was blushing furiously and unable to hold eye contact, “It’s okay, Andy, I’ll manage.”

“Well come to the pictures, anyway.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to offer me a date?” I said and immediately wished I hadn’t.

“Actually I’m not, but I just wanted to show that some of us aren’t upset by seeing you dressed as a girl. I know it wasn’t your choice and just thought it would be a treat for you. Seems not...”

“I’m sorry, Andy,” and I felt my eyes fill with tears and rather than make myself look completely stupid I grabbed my bag and ran off unable to deal with it.

I was apparently crying in my sleep when Simon woke me up.