Consequences: A New Life

Thanks to Robyn Hood and Cressar for all their help with editing and proof reading.

Part 1

Friday night and the unseasonably warm weather has brought even more people than normal on to the Shoreditch streets. Music pumps from bars as relaxed students and hipsters mill around drinking. We have had a good day in the recording studio and it is time for our little team to kick back and chill.

Carly, the twenty four year old whose track we’ve been working on, is excited, telling everyone how amazing it has all been. I remember that kind of excitement back when I started in the business. It’s infectious. We sit at a table spending the label’s money and chatting about shit. I have already texted my wife Julia to let her know not to wait up. It’s been a long hard week and I feel like blowing off some steam.

I co-own the recording company with my business partner Steve. We both came up together in the days when the music industry had money. We saw the way the industry was going and set up our own recording studio/mini label. We provide the artists with the equipment and experience they need and access to distribution. They get creative freedom and professional support; we get low overheads and high turnover. So far it has been pretty successful, although we are nowhere near as big as any of the labels we started with back in the 90s and 00s.

The crowd is thinning as the night goes on. I get a text from Julia saying she is happily tucked up in bed with a good book. I smile; it has been ages since I had the chance to read anything, too many late nights working or boozing. It is just Carly, Steve and me left and Carly wants us to go on to a little club she knows in Bethnal Green. I am up for it but Steve bows out; he has a kid on the way and I think is trying to prove to Sandra, his wife, that he is ready for the responsibility so I don’t push him.

“Shall we go then?” I ask Carly after Steve has left, she says she just needs the toilet so I am left playing with my phone trying not to look like I am on my own. Normally I am pretty good with my own company but something about being the older guy in a bar full of millennials puts me on edge.

She takes a while, girls always do, so my mind wanders to Julia and our decision not to have kids. I know Julia regrets it sometimes, and seeing how excited Steve and Sandra are it does make me wonder. Still, it just isn’t suitable for our lifestyle. Life is about making decisions and dealing with the consequences as my dad might have said had he and mum not been killed in a car crash when I was fourteen.

Carly is back and we are off out the bar. I enjoy seeing the envious looks from the guys as I leave with the hottest girl in the place. Outside the air is just a little cold so I do up my jacket, wishing I had thought to bring a warmer coat. Carly takes my arm and we set off.

We walk down the road past all the happy people. The smell of all the different foods from various take-aways and the bright clothes people are wearing add to the carnival atmosphere.

Then there’s the sound of car wheels screeching and I turn around. A large man in a balaclava is shouting something at me, I hear screaming but everything other than the man seems distant to me. The man is holding something in his hand - too late I realise it’s a gun! He is close, I grab at his face in wild desperation only managing to pull back the bottom half of the balaclava. It reveals a small scar under his chin. There is a loud noise and then everything goes blank.

I wake up feeling like I have the worst hangover in my lifetime. My head is swimming and my insides burn, to add to that it feels like someone is shoving two fingers down my throat.

I try to open my eyes but can only see a blur of colours. A green shape is moving around. I slowly come to recognise the blob as a person. I try to call out but something is stopping me from speaking, all I can do is grunt and gurgle. I start to panic realising that there really is something stuck down my throat. I am too weak to move more than a little but I try to shout, but again it comes out as faint noises.

The green blob moves closer, I feel a soft hand on my forehead that starts to gently caress me. She is saying something but it sounds like I am listening to her while under water.

My eyesight comes back slowly. The green blob becomes a woman in green scrubs. So I am in hospital. What the hell has happened to me? The woman leans over me checking my pillows. She seems like a giant, must be my perspective. I spy a name badge on her chest; it says ‘Nurse Porter’.

The sound is still muffled but I can just about make out what she is saying.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you are safe, but you’ve been through some major surgery,” she must see the frightened look on my face, “but you will be OK now.”

Fuck, what happened? I try to say something but again can only make the faintest of sounds.

“Are you in any pain?” she asks me.

My throat is burning, my head pounding and I don’t seem to be able to move my legs and arms much, all I can do is nod my head yes.

“That’s OK, I’ll increase your dosage,” I watch as the nurse reaches up to adjust something above my head. Almost immediately I start to feel sleepy again.

“Don’t worry honey,” she strokes my forehead pushing a long strand of hair out of my face (how long have I been here for? My hair was never this long), “you sleep, things will be better when you wake up.”

As I drift off I see two faces watching me from behind a glass screen, perhaps it is the drugs but I think one of them looks like Julia.

I wake again, this time my head is clearer. The room is quiet and dark, from the stillness I guess it must be the middle of the night. I try to move but my body is still unresponsive. I try to speak but there is still something stuck down my throat.

It is then that I realise that I am not alone in the room, to my right someone stirs in a chair. Whoever it is gets up and comes over to me. From the silhouette I can tell it’s a woman, but she seems huge! The woman gets closer and then her face is hit by moonlight; thank God, it’s Julia! Her beautiful face is creased with concern and lack of sleep.

“Hello sweetheart, are you OK?”

I try to nod to let her know I am fine but it hurts to do so and I visibly wince in pain.

“Oh love, stay still,” she rests a hand on my arm reassuring me, “I’ll go and get Doctor Fields and Inspector Patil.”

I nod my head in agreement and watch as she dashes out of the room. A light automatically illuminates the corridor casting long shadows into the room. I can now see that I am in a private room in a hospital somewhere. There are a number of tubes and wires connected to me, which scares me shitless. I try to calm myself down until Julia returns with the doctor. Who is this Inspector Patil? What happened to me, why are the police involved?

Suddenly the light in the room is turned on and I am temporally blinded. The next thing I know three figures loom over me. Julia I recognise, next to her is a tired looking man somewhere in his late fifties. He wears blue scrubs, I assume he must be Doctor Fields. Behind them is a South Asian woman in her early 30s wearing a business suit. I guess she is this mysterious inspector.

The man talks to me, “Hello, it is good to have you back with us,” he smiles at me and I feel Julia squeezing my hand trying to reassure me. I wonder if the drugs are still having an effect on my hearing, I try to say something forgetting that I can’t.

“Please don’t try to speak,” the doctor smiles warmly at me, “the tube in your throat has been feeding you for the last month,” I’ve been here a whole month!

He must be able to see how worried I look, “don’t worry,” he says in his best ‘reassuring doctor’s’ voice, “your body has been through a major trauma but you are going to be OK now. We can discuss what this fully means once you are more awake, but I think for now it would be best if you take baby steps.”

I nod my head, there’s so much to take in.

“Great,” he smiles again, “I am going to ask you a few questions; can you answer me by blinking once for yes and twice for no?”

I nod my head in agreement and then blink my eyes once. The doctor asks me a series of questions about how I am feeling and if I feel any sensation in my body. He notes down my answers on a clipboard and seems happy with my signalled responses. After about ten minutes he gets up as if to leave.

“Thank you Mark, that’s been a big help,” he smiles. He then turns to Julia and the detective, “OK you can have some time with her.” He turns to look directly at the detective, telling her to be careful and that I need a lot of rest. I notice something weird, he keeps using ‘her’ and ‘she’ in reference to me. He must really be tired.

The three of them start talking but my head is swimming and I don’t take anything in. Finally he turns back to me, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes with a nurse to take that tube out of your mouth and give you something to help you sleep,” then he turns and leaves.
The next thing I know the two women are standing either side of me. The detective speaks, “Mark, I am sorry about this you must have many questions,” I nod my head and turn to look at Julia, she rubs my arm reassuring me a little. I can’t understand why my arm looks so small next to her hand? Inspector Patil continues, “Can I ask you Mark, do you remember anything about how you got here?”

I close my eyes to think; somewhere in my head I hear a loud noise and remember a sharp pain followed by coldness. My body convulses and I feel Julia holding onto my arm. It is only now that I realise that I have been strapped down to the bed.

“It’s going to be OK,” Julia soothes me, I am glad she is here. She sees my distress as I pull at my restraints. “The body is very weak, they’re there to stop you falling and hurting yourself,” she reassures me.

“Mark, I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you were shot.” Inspector Patil continues, “We believe the man who shot you was after someone else, the partner of the woman you were with. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

An image comes to mind of Carly’s sweet young face contorted in fear.

“I can see it is difficult for you Mark,” Patil sounds sympathetic but business like.

Julia cuts in, “Deepa,” I guess this is Patil’s first name, “we don’t have to talk about it now, can’t you see he’s traumatised.” She sounds annoyed with her.

“No,” Deepa talks slowly and cautiously, “we can come back to that when you are ready Mark, but we do need to talk about the repercussions of what has happened and of what we need to do to protect you.”

I blink my eyes once.

“Good, now Mark have you heard of the New Body programme?” Deepa keeps the same slow, cautious tone, like she’s a teacher explaining a difficult concept to a pupil.

I blink my eyes once, of course I’ve heard of it, the medical marvel of the age. Doctors that can grow new limbs, organs, even sections of the brain for the severely brain damaged. Half organic, half tech these limbs and hearts are extending and improving life for thousands. They can even create whole new bodies that can be controlled remotely for work in dangerous professions, like mining or in highly radio-active environments. They are semi-autonomous organic robots.

“Well don’t panic, your original body is safe and being repaired as we speak. However, we did have to take a drastic measure, both to save your from the trauma your body has suffered, and to protect you,” she stops and takes a deep breath, “this is not knowledge we normally share with the public, but the government has been able to develop a technique where we can place an individual, their essence, their brain wave patterns and memories into a new, specially grown body.”

I start to panic, I mean what the hell? Am I now in Frankenstein’s monster?

She must see how terrified I look, “As I say don’t panic, you can return to your body as soon as this is over, however we have had to create a new identity for you. Sadly the gunman and his likely associates are still on the run and as long as they are, you are a target.”

I hear Julia starting to cry, I look at her but she has to look away. Deepa presses on,.

“The process of growing a new body is a very long one and we didn’t have much time. People have to be matched to bodies that fit their brainwave patterns. Normally this means someone of a similar age, body size and, err… gender. But with you it was a little different.”

I nod, feeling numb to the shock. Where is this going?

“You are in the only body we had that fitted you, this is your cover and we need you to keep to it for your own safety. Do you understand?”

I blink my eyes once, noticing that tears have started to form.

“Your wife, myself, my team and Doctor Fields who will be keeping an eye on you medically speaking all know your true identity. As far as the rest of the world is concerned you are Emma Riley, the fifteen year old daughter of Julia Riley.”

She looks over at my wife who is also crying; Julia’s maiden name is Riley, so I guess that’s why they have used it,

“We have set you both up with new identities that should keep you safe until this has been sorted. But you must remember to keep to them at all times; you don’t know who you can trust. These men are part of a gang that traffic in people, exploiting the most desperate and needy, they wont hesitate to have you killed if they get the chance.”

I lie there in silence, unable to take it all in.

“Deepa,” Julia asks, “should I let him see?”

Deepa looks uncertain for a moment, but finally says, “I guess so, we don’t really have time to wait for it to sink in.”

Julia produces a small compact mirror from her handbag, it is the old one with a blue plastic rim she has been using since we started dating all those years ago. She opens it and lifts it to my face. I try to pull back but the straps are too tight.

“Mark, you need to see,” Julia says with conviction. I force my eyes to stay open. For a moment I don’t know what I am seeing but slowly I take it in. Looking back at me is the fresh face of a teenage girl. She has bright green eyes and long dark brown hair.

I stare at her for several minutes watching her breathe as I do, then I blank out.

Later that day, when the hospital is more awake and the tubes have been taken out Julia and Nurse Porter help me out of bed and over to a bigger mirror. This time I am more prepared for what I see. A teenage girl, thirteen at the youngest, fifteen at the oldest. Comparing myself to Judy and the nurse I’d put my height at about 5ft 3inches, 160cm, a little short for my new age. She is a skinny thing as well, maybe 7 or 8 stone (51 kg) tops. It feels weird after years of coming to terms with my growing middle-aged spread.

The face is pretty but looks sad, although that might just be right now. The eyes are big and round, a little up turned nose and lips that seem to be pouting. I’d have definitely hit on me when I was her age. For a moment I wonder who they made the body for originally. This is going to take some getting used to.

It is over a week later and Deepa is showing us around our new flat. It is much bigger than our place in London with two reasonably sized bedrooms. The main bedroom has an en suite bathroom as well. The second has a single bed, even though it is big enough for a double. It is decorated for a teenager with band posters everywhere. I recognise the Stone Roses, Belle and Sebastian and the guy from the Artic Monkeys, the others are newer bands and I’m less sure about them, although there seems to be a few too many skinny guys with floppy hair for my comfort.

“We tried to pick things based on your own tastes, with just a few adjustments. If you look in the wardrobe you’ll find plenty of clothes in your new size. I open the doors and see various different things. I am pleased to see there are plenty of pairs of jeans although when I get to the school uniform stuff I am disappointed to find only skirts.

“This must have cost a lot,” I say, my voice still hoarse from my stay in hospital.

“The gang who attacked you have links to supplying terrorists, there’s always a bigger budget where terrorism is involved,” Deepa explains as I run my fingers over a collection of grey cotton school skirts.

I sigh, school isn’t something I am looking forward to but Deepa says we have to act as normally as possible so as not to attract attention. She has found Julia work with a local law firm who have worked with Deepa’s team before. They don’t know about our situation, just that Deepa is helping us out with a new start.

“You can always buy some new stuff of course,” says Deepa a little nervously. I huff. This is a sore point. I can’t access my accounts because they can be traced leaving me dependent on pocket money from Julia.

“So, you are expecting me to sleep in here,” I say uncertainly.

“Oh no,” Deepa says, “I assume you two still want to sleep in the same bed,” she looks between both of us and we nod agreement, “you just need to keep this bedroom in case anyone comes over.”

It makes sense. We go to the living room to go through paper work and discuss arrangements. Deepa talks mainly to Julia, maybe seeing her subconsciously as the ‘adult’, so my mind wanders. Our flat is on the top floor of a five-story building. One wall is made up mostly by a large window looking out over the city. I can see the tall towers of the city centre and think how much Manchester has changed since Julia and I grew up here. I know Deepa thinks it is a good idea to relocate to somewhere we know, but it feels like a step back in time in so many different ways.

First day of school and I’m feeling the fear. My days of hanging around the flat and reading are over. I’ve read more in the last two weeks than I did over the last year. Julia tried to get me to go out but I haven’t been able to make myself. Today I have to.

I look at myself in the big mirror in our bedroom. The black skirt isn’t short, which I am grateful for, but it does feel tight and restrictive. Julia says it is probably for the best; it’ll stop me sitting with my legs wide open and giving the boys a show. That doesn’t make me feel any better.

The blouse and jumper are a little too large, which is good as they hide my figure a little. I know only too well how horny teenage boys are. I am getting a little insight into how dads of teenage girls must feel, knowing the sort of things the boys are thinking about their daughters. Only I am the daughter they will be perving over.

Oh well, no time like the present, at least the school day ends by 3:30pm. I haven’t had so much free time since I was at Uni. I put on the duffel coat Julia bought for me and lift my bag over my shoulder, noticing the weight much more in this small body.

“I’m off,” I shout into the living room where Julia is still getting her things together.

Julia comes hurrying out into the corridor, “Don’t you want me to drop you off?” she asks looking surprised. She is holding a triangle of toast in one hand and pile of papers in the other. She started her job about two weeks ago and is already in the thick of it.

“No,” I smile, trying to look cheerful, “don’t worry about it. The school is only about fifteen minutes away, anyway you know the kids who get dropped off by their parents get picked on,” I joke.

“Come here,” she says, “you’re taking this very well.”

It doesn’t feel like it.

“Well I don’t really have any choice, there’s some bad people out there who want to hurt me, and maybe you as well. And I have to admit,” I gesture at my body with both hands, “this is pretty much the best disguise there is.”

Julia laughs and kisses me on the lips to say goodbye. It feels strange, even though we have been sleeping in the same bed since we came here but there has been no sex. I am not sure which of us is more freaked out by my new body.

The weather is still mild and my coat and jumper feel too hot for walking. Around me the other school kids run and shout, greeting each other after their summer holidays. Deepa thinks it is a stroke of luck that I am starting at the beginning of the academic year. I am hoping it will help hide me in the crowd.

First I have to go to the school office where I am greeted by a middle-aged woman. She seems busy and tells me to sit on one of the plastic chairs lined up just outside the office. I sit there feeling very small watching other pupils walk by. They all seem to be in groups making me feel even more alone. Through the sliding glass panel to the office I can hear the secretary discussing her holidays with her colleagues.

I glance at my phone and see I have been waiting for more than twenty minutes. I cross my legs feeling the plastic against the bare skin of my legs. I make a mental note to wear tights tomorrow.

After about another ten minutes a teacher appears. He stands over me making me feel very small.
“You must be Emma,” he says smiling kindly. He looks an unlikely teacher with broad shoulders and a figure that suggest exercise and a more outdoor type of life.

I say a meek little ‘hi’ and he introduces himself as Mr Dixon, the deputy head and then tells me to come with him. I follow behind feeling like a little dog, he keeps telling me about the different classrooms as we walk but I can only focus on all the eyes of the students that fall on me as we pass

Finally we reach a door with EL03 in silver letters on it. Below them is a laminated card that says ‘Mr Hulse’.

“This is your form room,” he says. His kind smile does little to reassure me. Inside, the room is already half full of chattering teenagers. Most of them stop talking when I enter and eye me up. I was never the most popular person at school being something of a music/art geek. The feelings I had back then of being watched and judged come swimming back.

Mr Dixon introduces me to Mr Hulse who is a slim fresh faced man who doesn’t look old enough to be a teacher to my thirty something mind. He has started growing a wispy beard, I wonder if he is trying to look older?

The two talk for a moment and then Mr Hulse offers me a card with my lessons and rooms written on it. I look down at it but it doesn’t mean much to me right now.

“Looks like you’ll be in my set for English on Wednesdays and Fridays,” he says smiling at me then he turns to one of the girls sitting nearest to us, “Jessie,” he says, “can you show Emma around to her lessons today?”

Jessie looks at me like I’m something that’s just crawled out from the sewers. I notice she is wearing a little make up.

“But sir,” she starts, but is cut off my Mr Hulse.
“No ‘buts’ Jessie,” he says, “I think the responsibility will do you good. And I’ll write you a note explaining why you are late to lessons.”

This last part seems to make Jessie a little happier.

“Thanks sir,” she says with some real feeling, “Emma, you can come and sit with us if you like,” she follows less convincingly.

I go sit down on the edge of their table and Mr Dixon leaves, Mr Hulse going back to his lesson plan. Jessie turns back to her friends excluding me from the conversation.

The bell rings and the rest of the students file in. As each pupil comes in they look me over, making me feel like an exhibit in a zoo. One girl stands out. She is tall and skinny, giving the impression of sharp edges especially at her cheekbones. Her fingers are long and slim as she runs them through her hair, which is short at the back and sides and a mass of curls on top. Unlike the other girls in the class she is wearing trousers rather than a skirt. She looks daggers at Jessie and her friends but gives me a more curious look.

As this new girl walks past Jessie whispers to her friend, “Poppy’s even taller than before, she’s turning into a man!” they start to giggle until Jessie notices Mr Hulse looking directly at her.

“Sorry sir,” she mutters.
I see Poppy glaring at Jessie, she catches my eye and I give her a sympathetic little smile. When we leave the form room for our first lessons I notice Poppy giving me an interested look.

Jessie drops me outside my next classroom for Geography and tells me she’ll meet me outside our form room during break. I doubt very much that I’ll see her again today.

In the first of my classes I find a seat at the back where I am not overlooked. The teacher is talking about the average rainfall in the Amazon and I am happy to stare out of the window watching the world go by. During break I go stand outside the form room but see nothing of Jessie and her friends. I am neither surprised nor am I that upset. I do wonder what Jessie has in mind for the pass Mr Hulse gave her?

The morning passes slowly and lunch is an odd ordeal where I go find a quiet spot to eat my sandwiches. After eating I go outside and watch some kids messing about with skateboards behind what I am told is the science building. As I watch them I wonder if I could ever be part of this world again, or if there is too much of a gulf of time and experience between us.

After lunch is art where I am put on a table with two boys and a girl. The first boy introduces himself as Peter, who is quietly spoken but friendly, he has long limbs that remind me of pipe cleaners and broad shoulders. The other boy, Ian, immediately starts checking me out and seems transfixed when I take my blue school jumper off half way through the class. The girl is called Freddie and seems nice, but doesn’t talk much. She has a streak of purple in her hair that stands out against her otherwise quiet persona. Through most of the lesson Peter makes us all laugh describing the different teachers and their faults. Only Mr Hulse gets his respect, as apparently he lent Peter a copy of Watchmen by Alan Moore. With the exception of maths the classes seem pretty easy. In maths I realise just how much I forgotten despite having run my own company for ten years.

I arrive home around four that afternoon feeling knackered. Maybe it is this body, but it feels like I’ve had a sensory overload. I am not surprised that Julia isn’t home yet to I go slump on the sofa. I turn on the TV and let my brain slowly process everything from the day.

It felt odd to be back in a High School as one of the kids. Everything and everyone seemed so big, I am sure I can’t be the smallest in the year, but it feels that way. I tried telling myself that I was much to old to be intimidated by school kids, but that is easier to believe when you are over six foot and don’t have to spend your whole day with the buggers.

Around five-ish I get a text from Julia saying she has to stay late to meet a client and that I should help myself to the leftovers in the fridge. I just shrug my shoulders and hope they aren’t working her too hard. I go change into my pyjamas, Deepa bought me two sets one pink, one blue, both Hello Kitty. I can’t say I am fond of them but at least they are comfortable. Anyway no one is going to see me in them apart from Julia and she understands.

After eating a light tea (my stomach is much smaller now) I go read in bed. I am already snoozing when Julia comes in sometime around ten. I hear the TV go on in the living room but don’t get up. She’d only make me talk about my day and I don’t think I’m ready to face that yet. I fall back asleep and I’m only half aware when she comes to bed. She kisses me on the ear and wishes me sweet dreams then turns over.

Tuesday comes and I find myself in hot water. Jessie and her gaggle of friends give me dirty looks when I walk in to the form room. I hear them whispering and glancing over at me but I have no idea why. The room quietens down when Mr Hulse comes in. I am starting to notice how the kids look up to him, even Jessica and her gang of mean girls.

As Mr Hulse reads the register I contemplate what I could have done but I can’t figure it out. As the room empties Jessica and her friends push by me showing open hostility.

After they leave Poppy comes over to me, “You better watch out, Jessie and her fan club don’t like you,” she whispers.

“What did I do?” I say indignantly.

“Nothing, she was caught using the note Hulse gave you to skive, now she thinks you told on her.”

“What!” Poppy walks off as I’m left to contemplate the unfairness that is my life.

For the first half of the day I spend my time trying to avoid the groups of girls that wander around the school. Maybe I am paranoid but they all seem to be whispering about me.

At lunch things only get worse. I get there late as I had biology and the science building is one of the furthest from the lunch hall. There are not many places left to sit. There’s a couple of chairs at the back but the tables around them are taken by the football club lads. They are being loud and throwing things around and, although I hate to admit it, they physically intimidate me. I am sure none of them would hurt me on purpose but I fear getting caught by a misjudged arm or something. The only other seat is on a table taken up by year 11 and year 12 girls. I notice Jessie amongst them, but she’s at the other end from the empty seat. It looks like most of them are nearly finished anyway so if I sit down and keep quiet they will be gone soon anyway.

As I come closer I can hear the whispers and am left in no doubt they are aimed at me.

“What’s up with her skirt, is she a nun?” I catch. I have no choice now, to change direction would be to lose face and there is no way I am going to let a bunch of teenage girls make me back down. I have as much right to that seat as anyone. I put my tray down on the table and make eye contact with Jessie, letting her know I’m not scared of her. As soon as my bum hits the chair though they all rise up and leave the table.

I am sat there knowing exactly how this looks as the girls walk off not even looking at me. My ears burned red as I realise the whole room is looking at me. There is not much I can do, but I am determined not to show any hurt. I reach into my bag, pull out a book and make like I am reading, although in reality I am just keeping my eyes down trying not to look at anyone.

The rest of the day is horrible, I have to go round the school not knowing who is talking about me. Later I pass Poppy and Peter in the corridor, both of whom are laughing but stop when they see me coming past. I get the feeling Poppy wants to say something but she freezes up as I get closer. I wonder if they are laughing at me as well.

Julia surprises me by picking me up after school. She is leaning on the car provided for us by the relocation unit, waving at me as I walk through the school gates. I feel my face getting hot as I realise the other kids are watching me. I don’t see Jessie but I imagine this will get back to her.

“Get in, kiddo,” Julia points to the passenger side.

“Cool it… mum,” I say in a hushed voice. Only my cover stops me from saying more.

Once we are in the car Julia turns to me, “I thought I’d treat you honey,” she smiles.

“Really?” I wonder what she means; perhaps we are going for a meal? She seems excited, it nice to see her like this. She’s looked weighed down by stress since I came out of hospital.

“Yeah, I thought we could go shopping,” Julia is grinning; she clearly thinks this is a huge thing for me.

“Err, yeah OK,” I don’t want to disappoint her, “not sure how this is a treat for me though...”

Shopping has always been a way for Julia to unwind. Not that she is a logo crazy type. Her job as a lawyer in London is stressful with long hours but it does have the compensation of being well paid. I think being able to quantify those long meetings with ego crazy clients in terms of buying this or that was one of her ways of getting through. I certainly didn’t judge her for it.

“Wait till you see where we’re shopping,” she smiles at me with a wicked grin.

I try to get more out of her on the drive in but Julia stays tight lipped. We park in the Arndale car park, not the most promising start. The Arndale is a shopping Mall in the city centre made up of your standard high-street brand shops. Apart from a bizarre painting of Winston Churchill (who used to be a member of parliament for Greater Manchester), Wayne Rooney and Rio Ferdinand (both Manchester United footballers) there’s little to say it is in Manchester and not any other place in Britain or Ireland.

Julia leads me through the corridors and out onto Market Street ignoring my questions about our destination. She pauses about halfway down the pedestrian street and takes my hand. I look at her speechlessly as she winks and drags me into the Ann Summers shop.

For those who don’t know, Ann Summers is a high street shop in the UK that sells sexy lingerie, sex toys and costumes. Its success is built on being aimed at women customers rather than a shady male-orientated sex shop.

“What the hell…” I mutter as we walk through the door.

A female shop assistant looks at us directly, she seems a little startled. We must look like an odd couple.

“My niece,” Julia says, the shop assistant still looks at us mutely, “just turned seventeen last weekend,” Julia offers by way of explanation. The assistant looks me up and down as if to show she’s not convinced I am seventeen but doesn’t put up a fight.

We pretend to be looking at a rack of relatively tame underwear near the front of the shop until she goes away.

“Go up to the things you want me to wear for you tonight and touch them like this,” Julia lays her hand lightly on a pink bra close to her, “then come back when you re finished.”

I mouth ‘thank you’ to her as I set off. First I go over to the costume section. All the usual favourites are there, a naughty nurse, sexy policewoman etc. There’s a mermaid outfit I think about for a second; however, in my albeit limited experience these types of costumes tend to be fine in fantasy but cumbersome in reality.

I move over to the lingerie section turning my head to make sure Julia is watching. She is making like she is extremely interested in a see-through nightie but I can tell her eyes are following me. I let my hand lie gently on a black lace push up bra. I look up to check she’s noticed, I see that she has.

Slowly I move around the shop touching matching lace panties, suspender belt and nylons. I don’t look up now, I am sure Julia is watching me. Finally I come to a pair of handcuffs. I look for a moment at the silver metal reflecting the lights of the shop then I tough it gently. I know Julia is less keen on the bondage thing than I am, but seeing as it is my treat I think I can push it a little.

After a while I wander back to Julia who is looking at me slyly.

“Done?” she asks. I just nod my head.

“Good,” she lowers her voice, “Go across the road and wait for me in Topshop.” I turn to leave but she grabs my arm

“I want you to have picked out a bra and knickers set by the time I join you.”

I look at her in the eyes wondering if I should protest. I decide not to; she is doing this for me so I owe her a little leeway.

I pick out a light blue matching bra and knickers as quickly as I can, not wanting to break our contract. I feel a fool carrying them around but no one looks at me as if it’s strange. Ten minutes go pass and there’s no sign of Julia. I stick near the front of the shop not wanting us to miss and have to wander around the shop for longer than necessary. Unfortunately the front is taken up with a display of winter skirts and dresses. I have to pretend I am really interested in a selection of wiggle dresses.

A group of teenagers enter the shop. I recognise them as sixth formers from the college next to my school. One of the boys, tall with messy hair, looks over at me. As our eyes meet and he smiles unselfconsciously at me. I feel my face getting red with embarrassment realising I am clutching a bra and knickers in one hand and holding up a pink wiggle dress in the other. The boy doesn’t seem to mind and just turns back to his friend as if he hasn’t seen me in the first place.

It is almost another twenty minutes before Julia appears. What the hell took her so long? She is carrying a discreet black bag; it looks heavier than I’d have expected given the flimsiness of the items I picked out for her. Still, I am not complaining and anyway, these things always come with a crazy amount of packaging.

“Hello love,” she says breathlessly. I see that the cold weather has brought out the rosiness of her cheeks.

“Hi,” I say slightly sulkily, “what took you so long?”

“There were a few people in front of me,” she just smiles not explaining any further.

“Can we go?” I ask, keen to get to use the contents of her bag, “I got what you asked for,” holding up the underwear.

“Not just yet darling,” Julia says firmly, “we still need to buy you some more clothes.”

Julia proceeds to drag me around the shop putting various items against my body for comparison. I know Julia has always dreamed of having a daughter to share moments like this with her. I guess this is the deal for what comes next so I try my best to discuss the merits of various skirts, dresses and tops. After about half an hour I finally get out of there, carrying a bag which includes the bra and knickers, a pair of jean shorts and several pairs of warm tights.

Back home Julia tells me she is going to the bedroom and that I should go wait in the living room. Eagerly I agree, it has been so long! After about ten minutes she comes out of the bedroom wearing a yellow lace nightie, her hair all done up in an updo. I am surprised; she is wearing something she has owned for few years now.

“Come to the bedroom,” she says in her most seductive voice, a voice she knows drives me crazy.

I follow as she leads. I am not used to her taking control so much but I have to say I like it. She opens the bedroom door to reveal the little scene she has arranged.

On the bed all the clothes we bought arranged carefully with the stockings at the bottom and a pair of black opera gloves on either side (I don’t remember picking them).

“Get undressed,” she tells me. I am uncertain; is she going to dress up once I am naked?

While I am undressing Julia goes to a drawer by the bed and retrieves a number of items. She places the handcuffs on the bed.

Naked I look at her expectantly - what next? “Are you going to put them on now?”
She smiles mischievously.

“These?” she indicates what’s on the bed.

“Yes,” I say uncertainly.

“Don’t you think they are a little small for me?” I notice a look of uncertainty in her smile that she hides when she realises I can see.

I look at the items on the bed. It is true, they do seem small, but then again women’s things always seem so inconsequential when they are not being worn.

“These are for you,” she says, her wicked grin back. I try to say something but she puts a finger over my mouth warning me to stop. “After all my love, you are the one with the body for them now.”

I know she is making an effort, and I’d really like to have sex. Just not as the girl.

“Isn’t it a little humiliating?” I say more to myself. I realise almost immediately that I have said the wrong thing.

“Listen,” the sharpness in her voice, “if you expect me to wear things like this in the future you are going to have to show you are willing to do the same.”

I gulp, this is hard. I pick the knickers up feeling the smooth, shiny material in my hand. I look at her, she seems determined but I detect a flicker of doubt. She continues to watch as I fumble around with the bra, I am doing my best to look sexy but I’m pretty certain I don’t. I roll the stockings up my legs, first left then right. Here at least I am on safer ground having watch Julia do this many times. Once they are connected to the suspender belt I lay back on the bed.

Julia shakes her head, “No, lie forward,” she says. Not knowing what else to do I comply. Our bed is new but made to look like one of those Victorian metal beds. There is a long black bar running the length of the foot of the bed.

Instinctively I reach out grasping the bar with both hands. Julia comes round and handcuffs my wrists, looping the chain around the bar. It is for effect and I know I can pull free if I need to. She looks me in the eyes as she does it, the effect is erotic and I am warming to this idea. Her mouth quivers for a second like she wants to say something, then she gets up and moves around behind me.

My body braces itself waiting for something to happen, but it doesn’t. Anticipation builds then fades away. I try to turn to see what is happening but then I feel the weight of Julia sitting down on the bed next to me, then I hear crying.

“Oh Mark, I am so sorry but I can’t,” I try to turn to face her but I can’t move enough.

“What’s up love?” I try to sound comforting but my voice just sounds squeaky.

“It’s… it’s you,” she breathes in holding back a sob, “I mean it’s your body, the one you are in. I am not a lesbian, and even if I was ...” she bursts into tears again.

I try to break free but the handcuffs are surprisingly tight.

“I know it is hard love, can’t you just forget about it and think of me, the real me I mean?” As I speak I intensify my efforts to break free but it only seems to make matters worse.

She comes around to the front of me and starts to help me with the silk. Looking me in the eyes she says, “you know I never liked your sex games, even before.” Her voice is conversational, not confrontational.

“I was just trying to stoke the fires a little,” I had, in the past, encouraged Julia to try out a few things. Nothing extreme, a few costumes, very mild bondage.
“The problem is,” Julia looks a little more miffed now, “when we have sex like that, it’s…” her voice trails off for a moment, “it’s like you are having sex with the fantasy, not me.”

“I have never thought of it like that,” I say honestly. The truth is that I had thought she might be losing interest in me and had wanted to make our sex life more exciting. “I am sorry,” I say looking straight at her.

“Good God,” she says, the tears have stopped and she’s grinning a little, “those Bambi eyes of yours,” she looks away, “you should remember them, they’ll get you out of trouble in the future,” she laughs a snotty laugh.

“I am getting nowhere with these handcuffs,” I say rather pathetically.

She squeezes my hand saying, “Wait here, I’ll get the keys. I think I left the bag in the living room.”

I am left lying there for what seems like ages feeling a complete div.

That night we cuddle (me back in those damn Hello Kitty PJs). Julia falls asleep holding me in her arms. I think about slipping out to the spare room for a wank as I am in desperate need of some release. Her arms are much bigger and stronger than mine now and the only way I can break out is by waking her. I lay awake for a long time watching the grey shadows on the ceiling. I wonder how much longer I’ll be like this, a week, two, a month, maybe longer?

Things come to a head with Jessie the following day. We are each assigned lockers near our different form rooms for keeping bags etc in. It seems like a very American thing to me; I don’t remember us having them my first time round. I open up my locker door planning on stashing my PE kit there till I need it in the afternoon, on the bottom of the locker is a folded up piece of paper. I open it up and read:

“Die, no one likes you.”

I stare at it for a moment, thinking how stupid and absurd it is. I find myself having to blink back tears. I didn’t ask for any of this why can’t they just leave me alone? My whole life has gone and now I’m supposed to put up with this bollocks as well. I ball my fists in anger. Somewhere behind me I can hear laughter. I slam my locker shut and swing around behind me catching Jessie with a smug look on her face. My blood boils as I march over to her.

“Hey little girl, what is up with…” she stops as I punch her right in the face. She isn’t ready for it and is knocked off her feet. Her friends look shocked but I hear more than one or two people cheering and laughing.

Walking back to class from the deputy heads office I feel a sense of moral vindication. Although I got it in the ear, it was Jessie who was left squirming when I showed Mr Dixon the note. She claimed ignorance but was read the riot act and reminded about the school’s zero tolerance for bullying. Mr Dixon said he’d call both our parents but I am pretty sure Julia will see it my way.

My next lesson is English and when I enter the classroom everyone stops and looks. Mr Hulse tells me to go sit down; the only chair is next to Poppy who smiles at me as I go to sit down.

“But sir, she’s mental, she punched Jessie,” says a wiry girl with a face like a smacked arse who I’ve seen hanging around with Jessie before.

“Chantal, I doubt Emma is the first person in the class to want to do that to Jessica,” he looks over and gives me a wry smile, “I am only proud that it has taken so long for someone to break.”

Chantal looks scandalised but I hear a murmur of laughter from the class. I sit down next to Poppy and pull out my books. When the class gets back into full flow Poppy leans towards me and whispers, “That was bloody amazing,” making me smile. A few minutes later Chantal throws a screwed up piece of paper at us while Mr Hulse’s back is turned. With a sigh I open it.

“Mental Mickey loves the Dyke,” it reads (although she’s spelt dyke ‘dike’).

I turn to Poppy, “I’m guessing I’m ‘Mental Mickey’ then?”.

“Well, I’ve been ‘The Dyke’ since Halloween last year when I was outed for looking up Ellie Rodger’s Powder Puff Girl costume,” Poppy shrugs.

“Are you really gay?” I ask stupidly.

“As they come,” she says with a patient look on her face, “are you?”

I blush but I am not sure why, “To be perfectly honest with you I am not sure what I am,” I answer honestly.

Later when I get back to the flat I find Julia already home.

“What the hell have you been up to?” she says in that measured, controlled anger, voice she uses to let me know I’m in trouble.

“Err,” it takes me a moment to catch on that they must have called her at work about my fight, “Sorry,” I try.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do young lady.”