Kate Draffen (Chapters 26 - 28)
By Swishy
Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.
Holly appears on A Current Affiar, Gemma goes to Sydney and finally meets Kate Draffen
My head couldn't wrap around what it was seeing. Even my very own eyes had trouble believing themselves. On a national news program, A Current Affair, someone I would have considered one of my best friends, was bashing me. "I like Gemma, I really do, I just think that her doing the Debutante Ball would be a distraction from the real girls who have all put in a real effort." And now my ears had problems believing. Holly had gone all Brutus on me, right in front of my very eyes.
I sat there, quietly seething. I couldn't think of a way to label this treachery. "What a fucking whore!" Nicole said and that seemed to fit well. My mobile phone rumbled with the force of 100 angry allies:
Lilly- don't get 2 stressed gem hol is a such bitch
Cameron- We can beat her up. Just say the word.
Becca- What a bitch! Ur so much hotter than she is! I've got your back!
Alana- Why is Holly doing this? This is so not like her.
Glen- catfight !
Cue the sad music as the camera lingered on Holly, a cute and highly marketable teenage girl. "Holly Morrissey has been dreaming of doing her Debutante Ball her entire life," the 'reporter' informed us.
"Everywhere Gemma goes she is followed by a whole huge mess of photographers and paparazzi. I know to most people that would be there idea of their own personal hell but Gemma actually seems to enjoy the attention," Holly told the camera. The program then cut to a quick montage of me posing with various camera crews; smiling and signing autographs at the beach, wearing a geeky smile and waving while walking out of a shop carrying a lot of clothes bags, reluctantly showing off my party clothes at Macca's party and twirling in my school dress on the first day of school.
The montage did drive home the point I was a camera whore of some degree. What they failed to show was the hours of footage of me trying to ignore the line of photographers I seemed to be dragging around with me, looking positively glum because of their presence, politely asking for my privacy and right out abusing them. I just hoped that the viewing public was as savvy about selective editing as I was becoming.
There was a close-up of Holly wringing her hands in anguish, all the while my phone shook with the force of people willing to wring her neck. I always hated the close up of the hands, it was so clichéd. "While I admire Gemma Taylor's quest to become like a real female he has to remember there more to it than wearing a ball gown and dancing around." While that whole sentence was spiteful and mean the real kicker was that she called me a 'he'. How dare she!
"What do you think would be the best course of action for him?" The reporter was doing it too!
"I think Gemma should just bow out gracefully and stop our little Deb Ball becoming a media frenzy." I didn't create the frenzy! Stories like this create frenzy! I squirmed in slowly venting anger while Mum draped a supportive arm around me.
"And before you jump to conclusions about young Holly's motivations you should know the truth," the reporter said in a conspiratorial voice.
"I have been one of Michael Taylor's best friends for years," Holly proclaimed, "I was the first person he told about having Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration too. I comforted him that night while he cried."
"Bullshit! You wouldn’t even have sex with me!" I yelled at the TV a little too loudly. Mum and Gemma shared a weird look between them. "What?" I shrugged, "The doctor told me I should have sex while I could."
"But either the fame and money or something about being Gemma has turned him into a selfish and self-absorbed thing." I'm a girl, damnit! Not a 'he' or a 'thing' but a fucking girl! "Gemma is always looking out for himself and always wants special rules just for him," Holly complained.
The program cut to the reporter standing out front of our school, the flags blowing patriotically in the sea breeze. "While a representative of Marrang College refused to be interviewed by A Current Affair they did release this statement saying, 'We are very proud of Gemma Taylor, as we are of all of our students. At Marrnag College every single student is afforded the exact same opportunities to experience our wide range of extra curricular activities, no matter their race, belief system or gender.' A nice sentiment. I wonder if it's true?" He then walked off screen as if he was rushing off to the story's next location.
"The Debutante Committee refused our entrance as a couple," said two people I knew from school. I didn't know them too well, they kept to themselves, just a tantrum away from pure Group C weirdo territory. The spent their lunch breaks and a lot of their skipped classes sitting behind the Trade wing, smoking cigarettes and making out. Sometimes the Year 8 boys would hide on some bushes around there, hoping for a glimpse.
"When Tracy and Donna entered their paperwork to be as couple to in this year's Debutante Ball at Marrang College, they were resoundingly refused."
"They said that a lesbian couple did not count as an actual couple. If we wanted to do the Deb Ball we would have to find male partners," Donna said as if that was the greatest travesty in the world. They were both troublemakers always pushing the rules as far as they could and complaining as loud as they could when the rules started pushing back. They always had some petition hanging on the Year 11 Hall's wall, trying to get some rule changed. I'm sure they saw themselves as persecuted freedom fighters, everyone else just saw them as annoying faux-lesbians.
"In a separate statement from the school it defends that particular ruling by saying, 'The Debutante Ball is in no way an expression of sexuality and while we celebrate the diversity of our students we strive to uphold the traditions of generations of Debutante Balls'." I understand the quest for rating but did they have any idea what sort of storm they were brewing?
"Does it seem fair to you girls that Gemma Taylor is allowed to be a Debutante and your were refused?" The reporter must have practiced that look of compassion in the mirror only minutes before the camera started rolling because it looked quite convincing.
They both shook their heads, heads covered in heavy make-up and piercings. Donna, the obvious leader spoke up, "No. It's not fair at all."
I promptly buried my face in my hands, massaging my temples. These were two completely different problems! A Current Affair were only muddying the waters with these posers!
"We tried to get more comments from other students about this dilemma but the school has effectively gagged them, threatening suspension and even expulsion for speaking to us. Interestingly two students did break their vow of silence to speak to us, firstly Dorothy Newsom, Gemma Taylor's closest companion."
The program cut to Dot, looking very bitchy indeed, standing out front of her house. "Dot?" exclaimed my sister.
"No, it's OK. She told me. We're cool."
Dot interrupted our conversation, "While I support Gemma in all of her actions I think that her doing the Deb is a little self-absorbed and conceited of her." Pretty much exactly what she told me she had said. In fact, if she said more they didn't show it. The segment barrelled on, trying as hard as they could to wreck me.
"The only other student willing to break the school imposed gag order was Gemma herself. Here's the unusual outburst that awaited our reporter just last night."
Cut to footage of me mid-tantrum. Of course they cut out the first part where I was quite sane, they even cut out the question that set me off, all the audience got to see was me, getting in the cameraman's face. "I think my jeans are tight enough to see that I am an ACTUAL girl! Get a close-up, you perverts!" Without context it made me look insane. It obviously wasn't me at my most sane, I must admit, but leaving out the rest was ridiculous.
"Does this look the type of person we should be introducing to polite society?" asked the reporter as if I was a murderer. They left a freeze frame of me up mid-freak out and Holly's comments were put over the top. The program cut to the reporter, back on the couch at Holly's house. "What would you say to Gemma if he was here now?"
"I'd say, 'Gemma, please think of the girls who have been planning for this their whole life. Why would you want to ruin their night just so that you can prove some stupid point? Please think of the girls." Hmmm, I was thinking of the girls, well more accurately just one girl and what I would do to her if I got my hands on her.
The host came back on screen and added to the story, "Since this story was filmed a student of Marrang College, Trevor Tull has been expelled for poking fun at Gemma Taylor, we'll have a story on that later in the week. But coming up next, a weight loss pill that guarantees to help shed those kilos."
The TV faded to black and then to commercial. "Well, that was a fair and balanced piece about gender issues," I sighed sarcastically.
Mum hugged me close to her, protectively close. "They had no right to say those things about my baby," Mum whispered through gritted teeth. She was under the impression that I was much more devastated by the whole than I actually was. I actually wasn't that rattled by the whole story, I had grown up with A Current Affair and other shows of that ilk playing in the background of a thousand dinners. I knew the show is closer to a soap opera than it is to the news; it needs heroes and villains, great injustices terrible tyrannies and liberal doses of human-interest stories to keep the masses happy. I was just filling in for the role of the villain until they could find some minority or shoddy business to pick on. I could have just as easily been portrayed as the amazingly brave princess who is doing her Debutante Ball for her mother.
I smiled and hugged my mother to reassure her, "It's OK, Mum. I'm not all upset by the story. I just can't believe Holly."
"I think that bitch is going to have a hard time at school tomorrow!" Nicole clenched her fists.
Nicole wasn't the only person who questioned Holly's personal safety. "She better not come over and talk to us," Lilly warned me as we chatted around the lockers. The whole school was a buzz over last night's A Current Affair so that meant no one at all was talking to Holly. No one wanted to be seen potentially siding with the traitor. It was obvious that she was trying to look as unfazed by it as possible but it must have been a little annoying to have no one agree with your stance (in public at least. I'm sure there are a few girls that hate my guts).
In saying that I wasn't the most popular person in the world either, Trevor Tull who made a tiny joke at my expense had been expelled and a lot of people seemed to think it was my fault. I didn't like being treated with kid gloves, I was a big… well, girl and I could handle myself. It was a confusing time, with the masses down on Holly for being so against me and yet angry with me for Tull's expulsion.
"Poor Holly," I said, watching her gather her books alone. I could still see the girl that I once had a major crush on under all the anger she had me feeling.
"Poor Holly?" Alana said in disbelief, "What about poor Gemma? You're the one she's trying to get banned from doing the Deb!"
"I know, I'd punch her if she came to talk to me but I think it's sad that she's going to lose friends over this."
"She never had that many friends to begin with! I mean we'd tolerate her for a little bit but she is such a two face! She'd bitch about us to her other 'friends' and then turn around and bitch about them to us. You don't make good friends like that!" Alana said.
I had always thought that Holly was friends with everyone, able to transcend social groups to befriend anyone, I didn't know that no one particularly liked her. Lilly helped confirm Alana statement, "That's so true, Alana. I mean Alison was her only real friend."
"I was her friend," I said, solemnly. It was true I had considered her one of my best friends. She had been a little standoffish since the transformation but before that we were pretty good friends. Or maybe we weren't but I thought we were because I had such an overwhelming crush on her. Maybe she was always this petty and now that I was stripped of my attraction of her I could really see that.
"So, what are you going to do about Holly? Want us to rough her up?" A short, skinny Eurasian girl was offering to bash someone up for me, that would have been hilarious if not for the fact that she would have a better chance beating Holly than I did. If my performance on the netball court was any indication, my skinny little arms contained no muscle whatsoever.
But the problem of what to do with Holly remained. Did she do what she did out of jealousy or spite or because she really wanted me out of the Deb? Either way she wasn't getting any sympathy from me. I pondered her punishment, it really wasn't my place to decide. If she thought I was some genderless freak then that was fine, there were tons of people who would agree with her. I still got letters everyday proclaiming me as freak of nature. The school had been strongly lobbied to kick me out with death threats to the principal if I was kept in school. Some parents even pulled their kids out of this school to avoid having to share a corridor with the dreaded ladyboy of Marrang College. I think I scared and repulsed a lot of people, Holly wasn't the first person to speak out against me but she was the closest person to do so.
"I'm just going to let her be," I decided, "Be the bigger person and let her live her own life. I'm not pulling out of the Deb, not for her, not for anyone."
Alana beamed a huge smile at me, "Don't let it get you too down! Today's your big day, huh? Off to Sydney. You're going to become a supermodel!"
"I'm not a model, it's just a photo shoot to help promote my column," I insisted. I liked to convince myself that the photo shoot was the least important part of my deal with Dolly, just a tiny thing I had to do to promote my column but whenever I told anyone the cover was all anyone was interested in. Anyways, I wasn't the right dimensions to be a model; too short and too top heavy.
Going to Sydney was really exciting. My first time on a plane and it was going to be first class. Treated like the celebrity people thought I was. Not only that but Tyler was going to be waiting for me when I get off the plane. He was going to be my tour guide and babysitter while I was there.
"Do you know what hotel you're staying at?" Alana asked me, since her dad was lawyer they could afford to go on holidays all the time. She had been to Sydney like 7 times.
"Some really posh one in the city," I said excitedly, "It overlooks the harbour! And I'm on like the twentieth floor or something; it's going to be great. I've never been to a hotel before!"
"Never?" Alana sounded completely astonished as if I had just admitted I had never blinked before.
"No, camping at Dunkeld was the biggest holiday I've ever had. We never had money for hotels," I confessed. I never realised I was poor until school when other kids had more toys, gadgets, holidays and other such luxuries. I couldn't understand why we were poor, Mum worked harder than most parents I knew. I took me sometime to grasp that a waitress didn't earn as much as a lawyer, no matter how hard they worked. I had seen the look Alana's eyes a lot before; it was pity. While we weren't the best off of families we certainly weren't picking food out of bins.
"Well then, you're just going to enjoy it all the more. Sight seeing, a photo shoot, a party in your honour, you're going to have such a good time!" The look on Alana's face made her look like she wished she had little tiny robots inside her to change her gender too.
"You forgot the most important part — I get to meet John Draffen."
First class is nice. Really nice. I'd totally recommend it if you're never tried it. I almost wish I had flown economy before so that I could enjoy it all the more. The flight attendants were really nice. The other passengers whispered to each other when I got on the plane, which was fun because it made me feel like a real celebrity. So far I only had a few glimpses of what a real celebrity must feel like and having people whisper about you while you sit down in first class must be a fairly universal experience for most celebrities. My little round bum plopped down excitedly on my massive chair. There was much more leg room than I had legs so it almost felt like I was wasting it. Turning into a girl did have a few drawbacks I thought as the flight attendant brought me some snacks, but a fully paid for trip to Sydney was not one of them.
Tyler was waiting for me when I got off the plane. My eyes hadn't seen him since they had become sexualised and I got a little bit of a shock when I saw him standing there. He was hot! I knew Mum and Nicole had said it and even my memory told me it but seeing him there, dressed for business was a shocking reminder. "Hey kiddo," he said, hugging me. I hugged back, hard, letting his manly musk wash all over me. Maybe I hugged a little too hard and a little too long, he almost had to pull me off of him. "You want to be a huge celebrity, don't you?"
"What makes you say that?" I asked, curiously.
"You're wearing sunglasses indoors. Only people who want to stick out wear sunglasses indoors. Did you wear them the entire flight?" I tried to keep a straight face as I told him no but a smirk may have cracked the otherwise smooth veneer. "You are such a goof. Anyway, you may be happy to know that there is an army of photographers out there just waiting for you. I think the paps like it when they don't have to come out to the sticks to find you." I didn't like it when people made fun of Marrang. Sure, it wasn't huge by anyone standards but we were officially a city and any place with more than one Macdonalds was big to me. We had two.
The sliding doors slid open and there was only a second I had to enjoy Sydney in peace before I was surrounded. They came from all angles, clicking and flashing and shouting at me to look their way. I did my best to make them happy without slowing down my walk. I smiled, waved, tried to make my walk look at sexy as possible all the while still striding towards Tyler's car. "Thanks guys," I told the press, not answering any of their questions. I slid into Tyler's luxury car very smoothly and he shut the door behind me. I crossed my silky legs and smiled as sweetly as I could until Tyler put my bag in the boot, ran over to the other side and drove away.
"Well, it's not the same 'Welcome to Sydney' that everyone gets but you handled that quite well."
The sky began flicking down droplets of water and for the first time in awhile I saw rain. Most of Australia was in drought and while I knew a few drops in Sydney wasn't going to make a huge difference, there was something comforting seeing the sky shed a few tears. I felt I was going to be cleansed by this city.
Tyler asked me the prerequisite questions about my flight and I gave him what I thought were the prerequisite answers. The entire car trip there was a nice dynamic forming, he teased me like an older brother would and I fought back as best I could. It made me feel safe and secure in a city I had never been before. Sydney was a beautiful mixture of the old and new. I cheered when I caught sight of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It was strange to think if I didn't have the displeasure of turning into a girl I would have had no chance of being here, in a luxury car, on the way to my all-expense paid 5-star hotel. I squeezed my thighs together, I still missed the little fellow that used to live there a lot but this eased the pain a little.
"OK, here's the plan. We're going to drop you off at the hotel, you can get settled for a little bit and then I can take you out to dinner and show you a bit of my town. You like?"
"I like," I grinned, absentmindedly rubbing my legs in excitement.
As I told Alana, I had never stayed in a hotel before. The closest I ever came was a three-man tent. Going from a three-man tent to a five star hotel is a jarring experience. Sure, its pleasant but it's fairly jarring too. It's like if a man had eaten only cardboard his entire life and you gave him a roast chicken, although it would taste delicious he would still be a little unsure.
"This is bigger than my entire house!" I gushed in the doorway of my mini-palace. I ran inside just in case the room tried to run away from me.
Tyler followed me in, "You know people often joke about things like that but I actually think you're right."
I ran around my new home (for the next three days), bounding from place to place. "I thought a hotel room was just one room! This has three beds!" I have no idea why I had three beds, I didn't need a new bed every night. Then I did something I hadn't done in years- I jumped on the bed.
"Well, not all hotel rooms are like this. This is a rather expensive suite. Only the best for someone as sophisticated as you, Gemma," Tyler said without breaking. He was only a few years older than me, maybe 6, 10 at the most but yet he was a universe away from jumping on the bed. That only made me want to jump higher and have more fun.
Oddly enough, having fun is a lot of fun. There is simply nothing better than having fun. As kids it's our primary goal, we do whatever we can do have as much fun for as long as we can. But as we get older we get more responsibilities which interrupts our fun time, until instead of seeking fun all the time, you only get a few times in a year when you're truly having unashamed, unabashed fun. I was not going to give up having fun without a fight.
"Come on! Join me!" I said, beckoning him with my finger. In the moment, I honestly didn't think of the sexual connotations - a teenage girl, playfully bouncing on the bed, begging for company — but in hindsight I could fully understand the hesitation in his face. This body was still new and while sometimes I was painfully aware of how alluring I was, I often forget that even something as simple as me bending down to pick something up could create nasty thoughts in the nicest of minds. No one ever got aroused when I used to pick stuff up as Michael. "When was the last time you jumped on a bed?" I asked Tyler, mid-flight.
"Actually yesterday."
"Liar!" I said with my last big bounce. I lifted my legs in the air and came tumbling down on my bottom. I sat on the bed, feeling very pleased with myself indeed. "Aww," I cried out, "Where's the mint? I thought all hotels gave you a mint on your bed."
Tyler did not appear to find the mint injustice as bad as I did. "Not all hotels. This one gave you a huge arse fruit basket instead. Didn't you see it when you ran inside? It's massive."
"But no mints?" I pouted.
"I don't think so."
"Shame," I whined, "It's a damn shame!"
"If your whole enjoyment of this trip hinges on whether you get pillow mints or not, I'm not sure I want to take you out tonight," he proclaimed. Of course that did the trick and I promised not to bother him with my mint-moaning again.
Tyler wandered over to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing it to be very stocked with a lot of clothes, girl's clothes, "In that case, the very nice people of Dolly magazine has very nicely stocked your wardrobe with some pretty trendy clothes. Why don't you have a shower and get ready and when you're done I'll be waiting for you in the lobby."
"You don't have to wait in the lobby! Just chillax in my suite while I get ready, you can stop me from wearing something daggy."
"No, it's fine," he said, "I've got some calls to make anyway."
"C'mon. I don't mind. I have three beds, it'll feel empty if no one's here."
"No, it's cool, I'll be in the lobby." We walked to the lounge/kitchen area together. I admired the beautiful view of Sydney for a moment before heading into the bathroom. The bathroom was larger than my bedroom at home. There was a spa bath, a separate shower, a huge mirror and bench, a toilet and a bidet. I'd only seen bidets in books and movies of course but now I had my very own. I sat my toiletries bag on the bench and pulled my pants down. One thing that I miss about being a guy is how easy it is to piss. I don't like having to go through the whole rigmarole that a girl needs to go through to get things done. Back when I was a guy, a quick wee was exactly that; quick. I wiped myself and then went to the bidet.
"Aren't you a strange creature?" I told it as I figured out how to sit on it. I'm not sure why I was indeed trying it as the simple wipe had done me well quite well in the past but it was exciting and scary and that was enough incentive for me. My skinny thighs touched the cool porcelain as I squatted over the bowl. "Here goes nothing!" I sighed as I pushed the lever, sending a jet of warm water right at my private area. While it wasn't a dramatically pleasurable as the showerhead, it still gave me a little tickle. I let out a laugh and squirmed a little at the odd feeling. Let it never be said that I never try anything new. I grabbed a towel and patted myself dry.
The water pressure in the shower was breathtaking. Comparing it to the trickle at my home was futile- one was a dribble and the other made me feel like I was standing underneath a waterfall. Thanks to the generosity of the hotel I had a lovely shower cap to keep my hair from getting wet. I wasn't very dirty since I had showered before Nicole drove me to the airport but still it was a nice experience after the flight. I wondered where Tyler was going to take me tonight. I'm sure it would be somewhere nice as he had impeccable taste. Admittedly, I had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him, I knew it. I also knew it could never go anywhere; he was older than me and lived in Sydney and he was my publicist. But he was funny and cute and it didn't really hurt to dream.
I clambered out of the shower, dripping wet and wondered how much Tyler would enjoy the view. Too bad he's in the lobby I thought, he was missing out on a great view. I questioned what sort of clothes the good people at Dolly magazine had sent me. I had brought up some clothes of my own but literally threw them in my suitcase minutes before leaving the house. If I wore their stuff it wouldn't need an iron, which would be good.
Now, in my defence I thought the outcome of the conversation between me and Tyler was fairly explicit. I thought it was decided that he was going to wait for me in the lobby downstairs. And because I thought that, I didn't think the walk from my hotel suite's bathroom to the lounge would be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to grab some of the fruit Tyler had mentioned. And because I didn't think I would bump into anyone I didn't put any clothes on, because I would only have to take them off in the bedroom again. It all seems logical. However, I was only a few strides out the bedroom door when I realised that Tyler was in the room. I didn't panic, I could have leapt high in the air and ran back into the bathroom apologising profusely but I didn't. Mainly, because I didn't want him to think that it bothered me. I would look so much cooler to him if I was nonplussed about the whole thing. There is nothing cooler than a naked girl in control.
"I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs," I said, hands on hips. His face was priceless, for someone as composed as Tyler, he look truly shocked. A feather could have knocked him over, maybe even a strand of hair could have sent him flying to the ground.
"You told me I could stay…" he stammered.
I sighed, still in control, still naked, "But you said you were going downstairs. And I thought I would try some of this fruit basket. That's why I am au-naturale! Ah well… nothing you haven't see anyway. Ooh bananas! Stay here and help me choose something to wear to dinner."
"You told me I could stay…" he mumbled again as he waited in the lounge, if I was a little less forceful I'm sure he would have hurtled towards the lift but I was calm, collected and completely naked. I closed the door behind me and almost collapsed, that had been so embarrassing and yet thrilling. My weak legs took me over to the wardrobe and I drank in the wide array of clothes Dolly had sent me. Jeans, tops, shoes, skirts and dresses all lay before me. Tyler had just seen me naked so it seemed a little pointless to dress to impress him but there was still a niggly little desire to please him.
"Formal or casual?" I shouted.
"Casual," he replied, which let me off wearing a dress. Even though I had to wear a school dress everyday and my Deb dress I was still a little reticent to be throwing on any other dresses. I wasn't a girly girl and I doubted I ever would be, I never wore pink and my make-up was always minor. However, there was a challenge that I did need to tackle soon.
"Can I wear high heels with jeans?" My schooling in fashion was in no way complete; I was a novice who needed her hand held in pretty much every fashion decision.
"People do that, yes," was the response.
And so that's what I did. After jumping and squirming into the tight pair of skinny jeans Dolly Magazine had gifted me, I put on a pair of black high heels, the smallest heel of course. I picked a top I thought matched and put on some make-up just like Lilly and Alana had taught me. On inspection with the mirror I thought that I looked pretty damn good. I adjusted my cleavage, to show a little more and pulled open the door. "Is this any good?" I asked modestly, knowing the answer.
"Shucks, you scrub up well!" Tyler exclaimed.
"Shucks?" I said screwing up my face in confusion.
"I wanted to say 'Shit!' but I didn't want to swear in front of you," Tyler could be unbelievably cute when he wanted to be. Half of my mind was entertaining dirty thoughts about him, while the other half was trying to figure out if that was OK. I was already swept up in the romanticism of the big city despite being in it for little more than two hours. It would be wrong of me to say I was seriously considering having sex with Tyler but the lure of Sydney did make a thought like that stick around in my head a little longer than usual.
"Ready to go?" he asked. I strode towards him, slowly and deliberately. I was new to high heels and I tottered slightly as I walked but I thought I was doing pretty well. The nice thing about the shoes was the recovered height, I was nowhere close to regaining it all back but it was a start. I grabbed my wallet and put my key card in there. I had brought a purse with me, but like the dress it was on a 'use-only-when-absolutely-necessary' basis.
Tyler knew a lot of Sydney; in a previous life he must have been a tour guide because he was very good at explaining everything to me. He knew where famous people were born, lived and died, where amazing things had happened and interesting facts about them all. He didn't mind that I wanted to see the stereotypical touristy things; like the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, which was nice. He promised me that we could go on a Bridge climb and actually climb the Harbour Bridge before I left, which would be incredible. He drove me around the city and showed me everything of interest. "They're still following us!" Tyler banged his hand on the steering wheel in frustration.
I looked behind us, some photographers had followed us the entire trip, winding through the sights of Sydney. Tyler considered himself to be quite the getaway driver though and had bragged that he would be able to lose them quite easily. That was obviously not the case. "I don't care," I told him, "I've had a million photos taken of me these last couple of weeks, so one or two more isn't going to hurt. Hell, I came up here for a photo shoot! I'm not camera shy." He shrugged his shoulders and proceeded towards our eating destination.
"Now I could take you to the fanciest restaurant in the entire city, but I don't think you're that type of person, kiddo."
"What do you mean by that?" I arched one eyebrow, something I discovered I could do in the mirror. In my old body, I couldn't move my eyebrows independently but I learnt that this body had a few tricks up its sleeve. I was now fairly double jointed and was able to bend my wrists in weird angles, I could cross my eyes, do the splits with ease, twitch my nose and roll my 'R's but I couldn't clover my tongue like I used to. Another hidden talent was carrying a baby to full term and then giving birth to it but I wasn't ready to try that out now, or perhaps ever.
"I mean that I think you'd appreciate a nice, private, friendly simple restaurant with personality. One where people go to eat great food and not to get noticed." He had read me a little wrong. Normally, he would be right on the money, but I was in Sydney, wearing make-up and high heels, feeling like a big deal I would have liked to be eating somewhere where other celebs go.
"That sounds good," I said, expertly hiding my disappointment.
It turns out that it was good. It was a friendly little Thai restaurant that Tyler had eaten at for years, since he first moved to Sydney for university. They knew his name there and greeted him warmly as he walked in. They also shook my hand and told me I looked even more beautiful in person than on the TV. It was weird just going out with Tyler, I thought there would be other people like my editor from Dolly or even Dr. Chisholm there but it was just us two. It certainly helped me fantasize that we were dating, which couldn't have been healthy. He chivalrously pulled out my chair for me, proving he was a gentleman and looked deep into my cleavage as I sat down, proving he was a man. I am sure he thought he was being sneaky about it but I knew.
"Do you like Thai food?" he asked, a little late in the dining process to be anything but idle chitchat.
"Umm…" I sighed posing over the menu, "I hope so."
"You've never eaten Thai food before?" I was sick of middle class people being surprised that I hadn't done some middle class things. I was lower class, damn it! And now I am millionaire, so I guess that makes me upper class.
"I live in Marrang, where am I supposed to have eaten Thai before?" The truth was I think we have a Thai restaurant but we were poor and had no money to waste on what my mother would deem 'ethnic food'. If we were going out for dinner it would always be at the pub my Mum worked at because she got all the meals at half price. So, Beef Stroganoff was as exotic as my palate got.
A pretty Thai waitress came to collect our order. "So, Gemma, should I order for you then?" My nod was meek and eager at the same time. He spoke softly but assertively to the waitress who dutifully shuffled off to tell the chefs of our order. I thanked Tyler for covering for me. "Not a problem. I didn't get anything too outlandish for you. You'll like it."
Tyler wasn't wrong. I did like it. The 'it' in question was some tasty homemade spring rolls that I dunked quite liberally in some sweet chilli sauce and a roast duck salad with rice. It wasn't too outlandish and it was nice. The conversation was the real highlight of the night. Tyler was an excellent talker, I guess that's why he was so good at his job. Even though we had only known each other on and off for only a few days, he made me feel like one of his best friends.
"So," he said as the evening was preparing to pack up and bring the night in, "What's better?"
"Huh?"
"Boy or girl? What's better?" I didn't like that Tyler knew I was a guy, in fact I didn't like anyone knowing that. I wished people would just forget about it. If I was going to forge a 'normal' life for myself I needed people to treat me like a normal person. Up until that point, Tyler had treated like a normal person.
"I don't know if that's an answerable question. 'Michael or Gemma?' is a question that would be a little easier."
"OK then, Michael or Gemma?"
"Well, I doubt that I would be here, in Sydney and being paid a fortune to be here if I was still Michael. I liked my old life, but it and I was fairly unremarkable, you know, black and white. Now, everything is in Technicolor; more friends, more excitement, more experiences, you know? If I could have had all those things and retained my old genitals I would have been happy with that. But it's not like this body is no good."
Tyler leant in and told me, "I think it's a perfectly fine body." With statements like those it was easy to pretend he was my boyfriend, I wondered if he was pretending to be my boyfriend too. I shook my head in hope of sending those dirty thoughts out, flying out of my ears. I was just getting caught up in the romanticism of being a big town, there was nothing between me and Tyler. But I did notice the way he touched the small of my back as he led me out of the restaurant, and the way he opened my car door, all the while shooing the photographers away and the way he would glance at me when he thought I wasn't looking.
He dropped my off at the hotel suite and it felt like he was dropping me off after a date. I lingered at the front door making idle chitchat and I fumbled for my key-card. "So, did you like Thai food?"
"I actually did. It was quite filling though," I smiled as I finally retrieved my key-card, "You picked good."
"Thanks, I'm glad you liked it." If this were a date, he would be trying to kiss me about now, I thought. But the air wasn't heavy with sexual tension instead he was texting someone. Maybe I had imagined the appreciative glances at me and romantically suggestive comments. Maybe it was the air conditioning making my nipples hard.
"So," I tossed around the idea of inviting him in but decided against it, "what time tomorrow?" Tyler was going to drive me to my photo shoot the next day. He held up 7 fingers and I winked at him and nodded. He gave me a thumbs-up and blew me a kiss. I continued our little silent moment and waved goodbye. He walked away towards the lifts.
Now when I tell you that I began roughly fondling my own breasts as soon as I closed the door behind me, you'll think that I'm obsessed with sex. In my defence, I just went on a first date, filled with sexual tension (real or imaginary, I'm not entirely sure) and I am a teenager filled with all types of hormones. I am surprised I can control myself in public sometimes. I did show some self-control, it didn't lead all the way, I stopped myself, panting heavily, tits out of my top, to admire the view. The lights of Sydney twinkled below me, drowning out the stars. It was almost like gravity had given up for the day and had let the sky swing down to the bottom. It was gorgeous, breath-taking and sadly, temporary. I wondered briefly if I could move here, if Mum would let me go to boarding school in Sydney. I knew she wouldn't. She hated private schools.
Even the beauty if the city couldn't keep my eyelids from performing their duty. They slowly dripped down my eyes, reminding me that I had to spend some of my trip in bed, asleep. I tottered to the bathroom, took off my make up and brushed my teeth. Tomorrow, as well as playing girl I was also going to play the role of model. I wasn't sure how I felt about being a model. Sure I was pretty enough in an ultra-curvy semi-tomboy kind of way, but that wasn't what was bothering me. Putting a huge picture of me on a magazine is quite an audacious way of confirming my gender. I now thought of myself as female, but would that always be the case? Maybe I would reconnect with my masculine side one day and my modelling stint would be mortifying beyond belief. If that was the case, I thought, so would me wearing make-up, doing the Deb and wishing Tyler was my boyfriend and so far I hadn't done a lot to stop any of that. If I ever did have a re-awakening of my masculine side, it would just have to deal with all the girly things I had done.
I shuffled into the bedroom of my suite. It had been a long day and I was excited to sleep in a bed larger than my bedroom back home. However my big day of surprised was not quite over. Sitting on my bed with a little note that read 'Enjoy' was a chocolate mint!
Tyler is such sweetheart.
Sleeping in my massive bed was heavenly. It reminded how much I loved sleep. It's funny to love sleep because people waste so much of their lives doing it, but in the right bed under the right conditions it can be pleasurable beyond belief. I awoke, my legs and arms splayed across the massive bed, the satin sheets hugging my body like an eager lover. I stretched like a cat, enjoying that wonderful place halfway between asleep and awake. I reached for my phone and turned off the alarm. Tyler would be here in an hour so I had to get ready for him, I wondered if this state of undress would make him happy or not. Of course it would, I thought, I look like a Goddess. Albeit a Goddess who needed a shower.
I didn't feel the need to dress up much, I would only have to put on whatever they gave me anyway. As I lowered myself into the soft cups of my bra, it amazed me how casually I was doing it. I had boobs! I was putting on a bra! This world is officially crazy and yet because it's been almost a whole month I was OK with it? I was adapting to this quite well, I thought. But was there such a thing as too well? I had been male for 17 years and all it takes is a few weeks of being female for me to be comfortable? People take longer to get over ex-girlfriends. But then again, why was adapting a bad thing?
I jostled my chest a little to get it to sit properly in the cups. Before all this the only breasts I had ever touched were Laura Tigley's, my ex-girlfriend, when we were making out. But she was skinny as a rake and hers were breasts in title only. Like many guys I was obsessed with breasts, the bigger the better. And now I had my very own large pair to touch whenever I wanted. However big boobs didn't excite me that much anymore.
"Good morning!"
"You're a whore!"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because it's not even 7 in the morning, and you're calling me," Dot sounded angry, "That's the kind of thing whores do."
"No, I'm pretty sure whores perform sexual acts for money."
"In that case I'll give $5 to go fuck yourself!" Dot snapped.
"Wow, you're really not a morning person!" Truth was, I was well aware of that, I just wanted someone to talk to.
Dot groaned and told me, "Get fucked! Neither are you!"
"That's true but I'm just too excited. You should see my room! There's three beds! Two bedrooms with three beds! And a lounge room with a massive TV and I can see the Harbour Bridge from my window!"
"That's nothing, I can see a massive wasps' nest from my window," Dot dryly said, "which means I have to keep my window closed. But it was so exhaustingly hot here last night!" Dot hated hot weather almost as much as cool weather. In fact, I doubted there was a temperature at all that made Dot comfortable.
"You still in bed?"
"It's 7 in the bloody morning, of course I'm still in bed. I do not get out of bed until the very last second. So today's the day of the big Playboy shoot, huh? Pussy out for the boys!"
"It's Dolly Magazine and you're just jealous because I am a published writer and you're not." This was a touchy subject for Dot. It annoyed her no end that thousands of girls would be reading my articles while she would be writing primarily for herself.
"Yeah, your tits are the next Woodward and Bernstein!" I didn't know who they were but I wasn't going to give Dot the satisfaction of telling her that. "Anyway, good luck for the shoot today. You're going to be great." Dot had become a little more positive since we refriended each other. It was nice to hear those sorts of sentiments coming from her and it was even nicer because I could tell she meant them.
"You think so? I'm a bit worried about it."
"Don't fret, you're a total hottie and you know it. Just go shake what those tiny robots gave you and collect whatever bloated amount you're being paid for it," Dot was being curt with me, probably because I woke her up.
Tyler was, of course, right on time. And knocked loudly as if he thought I would still be in bed. "Shit! Gotta go, that'll be Tyler."
"Mmm… Your manager/publicity guy? He's fuking hot, Gem."
"I know, I know, I know."
"You've gotta jump his bones before you come back! Dot commands it! You must do what Dot says." Dot did her best hypnotist voice.
"Fuck off!" I said and then abruptly became cheery, "And bye-bye!"
"Bye."
"Hello," Tyler said as I swung open the door, "I didn't expect you to be awake, honestly."
"Awake and dressed," I smiled.
"I'm impressed. Let's go." I walked quickly over to the lift. I know I'm still childish, but riding a lift is still exciting for me, mainly because there no lifts in the whole of Marrang, except the hospital. And even when I was kept there I never left the first floor. "Do you always have to wear denim shorts?" Tyler called down the hall to me, "Every time I see a picture of you in a paper or magazine you're always wearing jean shorts. It's like your uniform; denim shorts and a tank top. You're not Daisy Duke, you know?"
I put my hands on my hips and proclaimed, proudly, "I like 'em."
"She likes 'em!" Tyler said to nobody.
I was amazed how few people were at the studio when I showed up. There was the Editor, the photographer and his assistant and a make-up artist. I didn't know who else would be there but it seemed like a small crew for something so large. The photo shoot was starting out at a studio and then moving to an outside locale.
"Gemma! I'm so happy to meet you finally," I recognised the voice. It was my editor Jane Dowlin, we had talked a whole heap on the phone. She talked me through my first column and was quite happy with the results. She didn't look exactly as I pictured her. She spoke with quite a clipped, cultured accent, so I always pictured her in a business suit with big hair. But she seemed to be quietly kookily dressed, in a brightly coloured, high waisted dress and glasses. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra and didn't wear one much anyways; her boobs had a decidedly 'droopy' look to them. It was a great motivator for me to always always wear some support.
"Hi Jane," I said while Jane air-kissed me. It was such a Sydney thing to do, air kissing. I didn't quite know how to respond.
"Now today is all about having fun and letting that delightful personality of yours shine through. So, my main concern today is that you are happy and comfortable and excited. Is there anything I can get you?" I liked the offer to be pampered but I was fairly contented so I told Jane I was fine. "Well, you look fantastic. Even better in person. Now, as I said today is about fun, I don't want you feeling any stress," She gestured towards a weedy man fiddling with a some lighting, "This is Mark, he's going to be your photographer."
He stopped fiddling for a second and shook my hand warmly. "Excited 'bout working with you. This is going to be great fun!" Mark told me.
"Mark is really the best in the business, Gemma. You're going to have a lot of fun together," Jan enthused, "And this is Mark's assistant, Lucy." She gestured to a perky girl not much older than me.
"Hi Gemma," she smiled a huge grin, "Excited?" She obviously was. It seemed like a distant planet, eons ago where I almost was named Lucy, if it wasn't for Mum's suggestion I would be called Lucy. However, this Lucy looked like a real Lucy, skinny with a head full of messy ready hair. I didn't look much like a Lucy.
I also met Andre, my make-up artist who was equally excited to meet me. I had never been in a room with people so enamoured of me. I couldn't tell if they where genuinely thrilled to work with me, they were always like this or they were blowing smoke up my arse. Anyway, the enthusiasm was infectious. Their zest crawled up my body and tickled my cheeks into a smile. Andre took me down to a corner of the studio. He talked incessantly about everything, mainly the outrageous parties that had kept him awake until all hours on the morning today. Now, I off all people know not to judge people on first impressions but it was kinda apparent; Andre was a super flamboyant and most likely gay. I'm not saying that all male make-artists are gay but Andre clearly was. The type of gay that would get you bashed a little bit in a country town like mine.
"They're not going to Photoshop my pictures a whole heap, are they?" I asked Andre. It was a minor concern of mine ever since I was offered the cover. My body wasn't perfect, my legs could be longer, my bum could be bigger and my toes were a little too pudgy. But with a computer and a few spare hours they could have me looking like the next Elle Macpherson. While that was a little tempting, my main focus for my column was about learning to accept yourself, faults and all.
"Let me tell you," whenever Andre started a speech he sounded like a toy car revving up, "They Photoshop everyone. Sometimes I wonder why I do make-up at all! All the girls' imperfections are just blasted away with computers. But Dolly is actually pretty good. They're one of the betters ones. They're all about real girls with real bodies. I'm sure they don't have to muck around much with your pretty face anyway!" He actually pinched my cheek! I guess to emphasise just how cute I was, but it hurt. It was compelling to meet someone so flamboyant, it was like watching a kid in an adult's body, wandering around, pinching people on their cheeks.
"OK, big smile! Just a little more relaxed, Gemma," instructed Mark as he took some of the first pictures. I tried to do as he said, but I ran into a problem.
"How do I relax?" I asked honestly, "I've seriously forgotten how to." It was true, in front of the camera I couldn't remember what people did when they relaxed; did they bend at the knee? What did they do with their hands? My mind went totally blank, so I imitated what I thought natural and relaxed people looked like.
"No, Gemma, relax." Supposedly I was getting it wrong. Mark bent down and threw me a scrap of material. "Pose with this."
It wasn't just any scrap of material: it was a bra. Embarrassingly enough, it was much too small for me but I knew what it really was: A prop. Something to do with my hands, something to make me forget about trying to look 'normal'. I held it up and looked at it quizzically, like the first time I ever put one on. Mark laughed. "That's it!" The camera began to whir louder as Mark got me to pose more and more with the bra. In the musicals at high school I was always a better actor when we had all the props and costumes in comparison to just wearing the school uniforms, pretending to have a gun, standing in the gym. "Get rid of the bra!" Mark told me and I threw it into the air, carefree and laughed. I suddenly remembered how to look natural. I had it! I was modelling!
You know how you see interviews with supermodels saying that it's not a glamorous life and modelling is actually hard? Well that's a total croc! Stand still, smile, wait for camera to go click and then slightly move. That's about it! OK, some of the positions I had to hold weren't the most comfortable but it wasn't like working in a coal mine. Honestly, I wasn't the best model in the world, Mark had to keep reminding me to stand up straight and shoulders back. The first outfit they mad me wear was quite cool actually; red overall shorts and a blue t-shirt. I liked the look of the overalls, although they did make look younger. I was so scared that when I turned up the magazine would suddenly morph into a Lad's magazine and I would have to squeeze into a tiny bikini, like the one I wore in front of the British boys, but if they were hiding that they hadn't revealed it.
What they did bring out instead was much better than a skimpy pair of bathers. It was puppies! For some reason they thought pictures of me in overalls with puppies would be a great idea. "Wow!" was all I could say as they wheeled in the box with the mini doggies inside.
"OK, Gemma," Mark said, professionally, "Now take them out of the box and play with them." I tried to ignore the camera and played with the 4 Labradors puppies in the box. They were, without exception, adorable, each one more adorable than the last. It was as if someone had soaked up all the cuteness in the world and wringed out the sponge on these puppies. They waddled around, running and jumping all around me. I was suddenly a kid again, letting the dogs climb all over me. Mum had never let us have pets for a few reasons:
1. Since we lived so close to the beach and had no back fence, there was nothing to keep the pets from running away.
2. We couldn't keep our rooms clean and Mum figured that was sign enough that Nicole and I weren't responsible enough to keep any sort of animal alive.
3. Mum declared herself allergic to animal hair, although I am yet to see proof of that.
So, playing with puppies and trying not to slouch was my main objective up until lunch. Nice easy way to make a few grand, and to think Lilly will spend a whole year working after school at KFC to make what I made in a morning having my picture taken. And she was just as pretty as me! It hardly seemed fair until I remembered the crippling physical and mental pain I had been through before I got in front of a box of puppies.
"Why puppies?" I asked Jane and I let one curl up in my lap, during our lunch break.
"We just thought it would be a cute idea. When I read your writing there was this unbridled lust for life in your words, a real optimistic attitude. I think puppies are the perfect embodiment of your message," Jane told me this while chewing on a salad wrap, beetroot dripping down her chin, "And, you know, you have a lot in common with puppies; you're cute, inquisitive and new to the world." Well, it seemed like Jane had enough reasons to give me a box of puppies, although that did seem like the type of answer you could make up on the spot.
I rubbed the belly of the bundle of joy on my lap. He playfully swung a paw at me and chewed on my finger. "I so want to keep one," I begged, "but my Mum would chuck a major wobbly if I came home with a dog. She reckons she allergic."
"Best you give the little tacker to me then," said Lucy and she waited for me to hand him over. I just met the puppies and I didn't want to say goodbye, so I showed a little bit of passive resistance.
"I don't wanna!" I mock glowered. Lucy reached down a plucked Loopy (yes, I named it!) from my lap. "Can't we just do the rest of the photos with puppies? It could be my motive?"
"You mean motif," corrected Jane.
"Sure, that word."
But arguing with them was not going to get me more fun time with the dogs. They'd moved on. It seemed unfair to give me puppies and then take them away, surely they should have left that to the end of the day so that I wouldn't be all annoyed about having no dogs for the rest of the day. I was handed to next outfit, I didn't like it as much as the overalls. It was flimsy, it was summery, it was peppy but it was, "A dress?"
"You're going to look great in it!" Jane promised, "We're going down to the beach and you're going to frolic around in the sand." It was a rather typical shoot for this type of mag, frolicking seemed to be a major part of the job. I could do it, I just didn't want to wear the dress. "We have a bikini and a sarong as well," Jane assured me, not realizing that was worse. I was well aware that I was being given a bundle to do not much more than stand around in clothes so I didn't crack the sads and refuse to wear the dress. I would much rather wear a summer dress at the beach for a few hours than a KFC uniform for the rest of the year.
The drive out to the beach took longer than I thought it would. I was used to living in the country where everything was a 10-minute drive or walk away. Sure, we had dramatically less stuff than Sydney did but at least it was all close by. "So how do you enjoy being a model?" Tyler asked me. We were in our car following the magazine people.
"It's a bit dumb. I mean, it's fun and all but it's not that tricky. I'm sure the difference between being a top rated millionaire supermodel and just a regular model all comes down to luck," I said, staring out the window at the blurry human mess that were the streets of Sydney. I was talking about modelling but I was thinking about SGR. I was the second person in the entire country to catch it. But why me? It was a question I had asked myself a lot when it first happened, lying in bed at night cursing the world. But as the days got less and less painful, I had stopped asking 'Why me?'. I had stopped looking at myself as the unluckiest person in the world. And I now sat in a luxury car, driving down the beach where I would be paid a stupid amount of money to have photos taken of me, after which I will be returned to my all expenses paid hotel suite. Somehow it would cheapen the whole experience if I attributed all my success to plain dumb luck, but was the truth. Who knew I would see the painful experience of losing my penis as lucky?
"Bend your elbow a little more. No, not that one, the other one," Mark told me as I posed outside a toilet block. Mark thought it would be a cute I idea to get me to pose like the silhouette of the girl on the sign of the toilet. It was a tad tacky but Mark said my facial expression sold it. Mark seemed to be really good at his job. He allowed me to be goofy, introverted and sarcastic, sides of me I felt were integral but yet rarely seen in a model. He said he was treating the shoot like a celebrity one and not a model shoot, he was trying to get the right situation to capture my personality not try and make me fake a personality fit the situation. He laughed when I came out of the toilet block/changing room in the dress, looking a little pissed off about it all.
I liked being photographed at the beach. It felt a lot like home, they had found a nice secluded area for us to muck around in. I wore a few things, the sundress with sunglasses, a top and shorts, they even convinced me to wear a skirt in front of the camera. "Now, I don't want the pressure you, Gemma. You've been incredible so far. But we do have one more look for you to try." There was a certain hesitation in Jane's voice that told me she was worried.
I hazarded a guess, "It's a swimsuit." She slowly nodded as if any sudden movements would make me attack.
"It's nothing too extreme, Gemma. It's from a company who specializes in early teen swimwear, it would put us in great graces with them if you wore it for us." Jane's voice trembled a little, almost as if she was pleading for mercy.
"Of course I'll wear it! Don't sound so panicked. You're my boss, Jane, not the other way around. Remember that!" I laughed, I felt like a mouse that was scaring an elephant half to death. Lucy came over to me and held up the bikini. To be honest, it wasn't that bad. The top was orange with black trim and seemed rather full in the bust and bottoms were black, with a little orange symbol on one hip. It wasn't that skimpy either so I wouldn't be showing that much cheek. It was nowhere near as scanty as the pink one I had worn in front of the British lads but no one knew about that. "How am I supposed to put it on?" I asked Lucy. As for the other 'costume changes' Lucy had held up a 'modest curtain' (otherwise known as a beach towel) while I quickly changed behind that. But I could wear my underwear so I never felt that exposed.
The plan, disappointedly, had not changed. I still got changed behind the large towel. "No peeking!" I demanded, "Especially you, Tyler!"
"I've already seen it!" he retorted. I'm sure everyone else thought he was joking and that's why they laughed. I laughed to stop me from killing him. I quickly popped on the top, wriggling and squeezing the best I could. The top was a little snug and it did appear that I was smuggling raisins down there but other than that it looked good. I surveyed the beach, I didn't want anyone catching sight of my 'special area' from the front or back. Now, scientists would probably disagree with me but I am fairly certainly I changed the bottoms over faster than the speed of light. My skinny little arms at least broke the speed of sound.
"Ta-da!" I said as if me getting dressed was reason enough for everyone gathered to be amazed.
Being photographed in a bikini made the whole thing feel a little sexier. I knew that Dolly was primarily for girls 12-15 but I knew as a boy I often borrowed my sister's magazine to admire the girls inside. I followed the compulsion to roll around on the sand, in a cartoonish attempt to look sexy. Mark just laughed and continued taking pictures, "You do know that this isn't FHM, don't you?"
I looked over at him from my contorted position. My back was arched and my bosom was high in the air. "So less pouting and more frolicking?" I asked. He nodded. "Do you want to take part in a major part of history?" Marked dutifully nodded again. "OK, train your camera on me!" I told him as if he had been doing something else with his camera the entire day, "I'm about to try my first cartwheel!"
****
The sun was setting as we left the beach. Mark had made me stick around until dusk so that he could get some pictures of me as the sun drooped below the horizon for another day. He showed me the pictures on his camera; now, I'm not quite deserving of a spot on teenage boys' bedroom walls next to Carmen Electra and Rhianna, but it wasn't bad at all. There were some really cute pictures with the dogs.
As we drove home the setting of the beach quickly became an urban setting as the palm trees were replaced with mailboxes and graffiti. "What are we doing for dinner?" asked Tyler as we hurtled down the streets of Sydney.
"Umm… I'm, like, a, like, model now. So, umm… like, a half a stick of celery would be, like, amazing." My Valley girl impression was quite good for someone who had never been to that particular valley.
"You're almost as funny as you think you are," teased Tyler, "What do you feel like? A big fancy meal at a big fancy restaurant, where you can act like a big fancy celebrity?"
"Normally I would agree to that… but I've got such a huge day tomorrow, don't I?"
"Let's me check, kiddo," Tyler flipped open an invisible notebook, "Let's see, in the morning you're climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Then you are going to meet John Draffen at his house in the afternoon. And then in the evening you're the guest at a massive party held in your honour by Dolly. I'd say, yes, your tomorrow is huge."
I yawned, accidentally, a sure sign I was too tired to go out for a big meal. "Do you just want to get room service then?" I leaned over to him and asked.
"Yeah, you can get room service sent up to your room, if you want."
"Wanna join me?"
"Of course. Especially since Dolly Magazine is paying!"
For the record, Gemma Taylor loves room service. It's like having your Mum look after you at home when you're sick, except you don't feel sick and the food is of a much higher standard. Again I experimented with peculiar food; risotto. I know that may be a common food in most people's life but it was a stretch for me. And it was delicious! There was a little smile on my face every time I brought a forkful up to my mouth. I couldn't wait to leave my Mum's lasagne-and-chips clutches and experience a world of food by myself. But as scrumptious as the food was, Tyler looked every bit as tasty. I pictured the buffed body that he was hiding beneath his sharp business attire. Dot was right, he was gorgeous. He even smelt gorgeous. I let me mind linger a little too long on whether or not he tasted nice. My crotch began to tingle.
"Champagne?" Tyler offered me a glass of champagne in a flute. Me, trying to look as sexy and sophisticated took it daintily in my hand. I had never tried champagne before but I guess there no reason not to try it. He looked deep into my eyes and I returned the favour, it would be impossible to read this situation as anything other than romantic. I may be new at being a woman but I knew what that look meant — he wanted to kiss me. I leaned ever so slightly forward, my soft lips parting just a tiny bit. I needed something to do with my lips before I leant in for a full on pash. I brought the champagne flute up to my lips.
"Uh-uh!" Tyler stopped me as the glass neared my lips, "We need a toast first."
I was a little muddled, I was halfway between a drink and a kiss and now he wanted me to make a speech. My body was racing with hormones, travelling to every part of my tiny little body. I think I was unable to say anything at all. Luckily, Tyler stepped in, "To Gemma Taylor, the hottest model to grace the pages of Dolly magazine." He leaned over and clinked my glass. As he did, his hand brushed my unclad leg under the table. As the bubbly drink trickled down my throat, I felt sexy, sophisticated and so very grown up.
"Do you really think I was pretty today?" I finally squeaked out.
Tyler leaned over, again gently brushing my thigh with his hand, proving that the first time wasn't an accident. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Gemma," he whispered. I opened my mouth, I'm not sure whether it was to kiss him or to say something or just because my jaw muscles went slack. If it was for anything in particular I'm unaware because Tyler sudden broke the moment.
Shattered the moment would be a more accurate term.
"Oh crap! I really should get going, kiddo." Being called 'kiddo' at that point was more annoying than cute. "I'll drop around tomorrow to take you to the bridge climb, K?" Before I had time to respond he was escaping out the door. "Get ready for your huge day tomorrow!" he instructed as he disappeared into the hallway.
That was quite a weird experience!
I almost had my first kiss with a guy, a guy who was much older than me, a guy my mum had trusted her daughter with while in the city, a guy who would be fired from his job and denounced by the media if he had a relationship with me!
But he is so hot!
Despite my previous night's events I woke up with only one man on my mind — John Draffen. Today was finally the day that Australia's two SGR sufferers were going to meet each other for the first time. It was up there as one of Australia's most historic days, I thought. OK, maybe I am prone to a little bit of hyperbole but it was a big day. It wasn't a stretch to call me worried because I had no idea what he was like. He was a recluse. As far from what Dr. Chisholm and Annette had told me he rarely left the house at all. It's weird to have so much in common with someone you've never met. John Draffen was once Kate, loving mother and wife, and a few short weeks ago I was Michael Taylor, unremarkable teenager.
Draffen wasn't eased into his transformation like I was, it happened in a supermarket aisle with his children looking on in fear as their mummy became a man. He was unconscious for days, the doctors (one of which was Dr. Chisholm) thought Draffen may never come out of the coma. When the papers revealed he had awoken, they said the new man was aggressive and unstable. Like my situation, all cameras were banned from the hospital while he recovered. His husband would come and visit him everyday and sometime bring the kids. Watching the news and reading the newspapers I remember feeling sympathy for Kate, alone in the hospital trying to figure out what had gone on.
Panic spread around the country about 'Pussy/Penis Envy', Australia was now affected and it could happen to anyone one of us. So-called 'experts' were wheeled out in front of cameras to promise us that it would very unlikely happen again soon but to be careful. Feeling the emptiness between my thighs reminded me that it did happen again, to me.
After two months in hospital Kate (now using the name John) Draffen was escorted back to his house. I remember watching it on the news, you couldn't see Draffen for all the press around him. They shepparded him away to a 'secret location' and that was the last time the world saw him. It was a lot like my story but where he got in a car and disappeared, I got on stage and started my very strange relationship with the media. Supposedly, John never leaves his house, according to the papers he lives with a carer ever since his husband left him.
I was looking forward to meeting him. If anyone could fathom how I was feeling it was him and it would be healthy for me to talk with someone about how I really felt. He would know what it's like to be forced to give up the gender you grew up as and to be thrust into an unfamiliar body. In many respects he has gone through the opposite of what I had. John was taller, stronger and bigger than Kate, where I shrunk down.
Meeting him was only one part of my massive day. It was to begin with a climb of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Alana had told me that was the most amazing thing to do while in Sydney. Tyler had promised to take me this morning but after what happened the night before I wouldn't have been surprised if he called me up and cancelled. Personally, I would have been very happy if he had kissed me. Although I am a few years younger than him it is obvious we have a spark-ridden relationship. Now that Aaron was off the market Tyler seemed to be a great candidate for my first kiss. I knew in my heart that we really couldn't be a couple but he just seemed like the perfect guy for my first kiss.
I wasn't sure why Tyler ran away instead of kissing me but I had promised myself I would kiss him before my trip was through. He had created an itch that must be scratched and I knew if I tried hard enough I could get him to scratch it for me. All I wanted was a little kiss, mouth opened, maybe a little tongue. It would be perfect; a gorgeous guy and far away from the prying eyes of my family and friends.
When he arrived at the hotel it appeared like nothing had happened. "Hey kiddo," he smiled as I swung open the door, "Ready to climb one all over one of the world's greatest landmarks?"
"Yup!" I cheered, "Just let me tie my sneakers and we can go!" I bent down and tied my laces. The main reason I did that was because I needed do them up before I left the house. The main reason I tied my shoes in front of Tyler was to give him a view down my shirt, remind him of what he was missing out on. It was clumsy flirting at best but guys don't seem to care when they are face to face with a big pair of juicy knockers, at least that's what I remembered.
My casual flirting continued in the lift. "How did you sleep last night?" I asked as I absentmindedly played with my hair.
"Good, good. You?" Gone was the sensual and lustful Tyler of last night instead jovial and professional Tyler had taken his place. I batted my eyes at him, hoping to see a glimmer of the other Tyler in the intimacy of the lift.
"I couldn't get to sleep for ages," I said in deep breathy tones, trying to channel Marylyn Munroe, "I just lay in bed waiting for something to happen. I was all hot and bothered." Not too subtle, no, but I saw the glimmer in his eyes. Under the veneer of the smooth professional was a man who wanted to tear my clothes off right then and there in the lift. My first kiss was in reach!
The Harbour Bridge was only a short taxi ride away. I was excited to see Tyler slide into the back seat with me instead of sitting up front, perhaps the tight shorts and extra wiggle in my walk helped persuade him. "So, have you ever done the bridge climb before?" I asked him.
"No," he revealed, "And I'm not about to do it now. Terrified of heights."
"So, you're not coming with me?" I whimpered.
"I'll be watching you from the ground. You'll be fine."
"Oh c'mon! Don't be such a sook!"
"I'd do anything for you, Gem." That was good to know! "But sorry, heights absolutely ruin me."
So, I climbed the bridge by myself. Well, not exactly there was still my instructor, a family of British Tourists, and American man, some 20-something Canadians, a busload of Japanese Tourists and three paparazzi. The paps had followed me from the hotel and while 10 or so of them were taking photos of me walking into the Bridge Climb building, a handful were trying to get in the same climb group as me. Luckily they cancelled when they found out that they couldn't bring their cameras with them. I couldn't think of anything worse than being harnessed to some paparazzi for two hours.
"Are you famous?" asked a Canadian girl as the paps were leaving.
"Umm… A little bit," I said as the camera flashed behind me.
"Are you an actress?" she asked me, looking at me with a glimmer of awe in her eyes.
"No, I'm a writer, who dabbles in a tiny bit of modelling," I had no idea why I said that. Sure it was (partly) true but I sounded like a snobby bitch.
"Let me guess the photographers were more interested in your modelling than in your writing?" I smiled and nodded.
I was so glad there were no Aussies in the group to lean over and whisper in her ear why I was so famous. Even the climb instructor was Irish and if he recognised me he didn't let on. It was quite involved the training before the bridge climb; there was paperwork I had to sign, I had to take a breathalyser test, practise climbing stairs and put on some grey jumpsuits. The climb to the top took about an hour, it wasn't very steep or a tough climb. Just a lot of stairs. We were all clipped to each other, I was wedged between one of the Canadian boys and the American businessman who was in his 40s, I guess. I practised my sexy hips sway as I walked in front of him. I knew it was naughty of me but I needed to get good at it if I was to ensnare Tyler.
But the whole journey wasn't about trying to get my butt to stick out the best way, the view was remarkable. The whole city of Sydney was spread out before my eyes, it was almost too much to bear. I saw the Harbour glimmering below me and the city laid out in front of me, it was breathtaking. I felt like a King (I guess Queen is more appropriate) and a tiny ant at the exact same time. The city, once a huge and terrifying/exciting concrete maze now looked like a living creature. I stood on top of a national monument and watched the heart of Sydney beat. From up here my problems and my successes didn't feel so important anymore.
"Wow," sighed my Canadian partner.
'Wow' was correct.
We passed another group on the way down and some people recognised me. "Oh my God! Gemma! Gemma!" some woman shouted. I pulled my best cool celebrity face and waved back. The Canadian girl looked back at me impressed, I just shrugged a what-can-you-do shrug.
"How was that, kiddo?" asked Tyler as I came trundling out the exit. The paps had already surrounded me and were clicking away, I tried to shoo them away as if they were errant mosquitos.
"It's like a religious experience. You really have to go."
"How high is it off the ground?" he asked me.
"Our instructor said it was only 134 meters," I shrugged. It did feel a lot higher than that though but I wasn't going to tell Mr. Vertigo that.
I watched Tyler turn a pale shade of green before answering, "Umm... no thanks."
"Such a fucking sook!" I said punching him on his arm. I had learnt to act natural around the photographers, almost ignoring them. I wonder if it was obvious in the photos that I had a little bit of a crush on Tyler, I hoped not. I didn't want to come back home and have Mum and Nicole tease me because I had developed a schoolgirl crush to go with my schoolgirl body.
"OK," Tyler said, hailing a cab. "Let's go have some lunch with some old friends."
"It's so great to see you, Gemma!" I almost didn't recognise Dr. Chisholm without his white doctor's coat on. I hugged him because I felt it was right thing to do, although I could shake the thought that Frankenstein's Monster wouldn't hug Frankenstein. Without his Doctor costume Dr. Chisholm looked like he could be my grandfather. He looked more feeble, as if his coat gave him super strength.
"Hi Doc."
"Enjoying Sydney?"
"Very much so."
"Hi Gemma," said a very familiar voice.
"Hello Annette," I said, "Wow! It's like a little reunion." I hugged Annette even though I didn't feel I should. I saw Annette fairly recently and we were never on hugging terms anyway. Tyler pulled out my seat at the restuarnt and sat next to me, like he was my boyfriend. We were a fair away outside of the city of Sydney, more in the suburbs. Tyler said that John Draffen's house was somewhere near here and that's why we were meeting up.
"So Annette tells me you've been coping incredibly well," Dr. Chisholm said.
"I don't know if incredible is the right word but I'm doin' OK," I said modestly.
"Don't put yourself down," chimed in Annette unnecessarily, "You have made real progress. Since the change you're a whole new person."
"That was kinda the problem," I joked.
Annette pulled the same frustrated face she always did when I made a joke. I seriously thought made she had broke her sense of humour when she was a kid and the doctor couldn't fix it. "You know what I mean. Before the transformation you were terrified about everything and now you seem confident with who you've become. And it's only been a month. You are quite remarkable, I hope you know that."
Had it only been a month. Sometimes I couldn't even remember what I used to look like. Sure I was a teenage boy with brown hair but the details where tricky to hold onto. What was my nose shape? How far apart were my eyes? Occasionally I would lie in bed and actually be terrified that I would forgot who I used to be completely. If the feeling got too strong I would sit up in bed, grab the locket Dot gave me and look at the picture of me and her. What Annette called 'coping well' I called 'expertly ignoring things'. I always thought I am always one second away from a total freak-out. But if she said I was remarkable than she was probably right. She would know, she's the expert on me.
Annette got more serious, if such a thing was possible, "Now John isn't coping as well as you are, Gemma. SGR affects everyone differently. So if you are expecting a life affirming meeting of the minds you may be disappointed, even traumatised by John."
"Traumatised? Is he dangerous?"
"No, not at all," Dr. Chisholm was quick to diffuse the situation, "It's just he finds life a little full on. After a year he's learnt to accept his position but he is still not a fan of it. It ruined his marriage, it turned his world upside down. He can get a little riled up now and again but he is a gentle soul."
"Is he looking forward to meeting me?" I asked with a little more trepidation in my voice.
"Oh yes," said Annette, "He's a huge fan of you. He's quite proud of your progress too."
"And he knows I'm coming?"
"He's baked you a cake," Dr. Chisholm revealed. It sounded weird that John had baked me a cake until I reminded myself that John used to be Kate.
"Are you guys coming with me?" I asked.
Dr Chisholm thought about the question for a moment. "If you want us to."
I told him that I didn't. "This is something I want to do alone." It was going to be a monumental meeting and even though Dr. Chisholm and Annette think they know more about SGR than me, they didn't. John and Gemma already had a special bond and I didn't want anyone interfering. Annette looked like she wanted to say something but she didn't.
I took a deep breath, "Can I go meet him now?"
Dr. Chisholm drove me there. The car ride there was too long. I think even if it was 2 minutes long it would have been unbearably long. I just wanted to get there. I had waited all my post-SGR life to have someone to talk to and finally it was coming true. "Are you nervous?" asked Dr. Chisholm.
"What makes you say that?" I answered his question with a question.
"You're gripping he arm rest as if this is some kind of whirligig!" I had to take Dr. Chisholm's word for it because I had no idea what a whirligig was.
"I guess, it's a little nerve wracking," I admitted, "How far away are we?"
Dr. Chisholm stopped the car, "Not far at all." He laughed as if he had made one of the greatest jokes in his long life. A blank stare was all he received from me. We were parked out front of a house. A house that had a high brick wall surrounding the premises and one of those gates that are controlled by someone inside the house. The window of the car peeled down and Dr. Chisholm pushed a button.
"Hello?" said the box.
"It's me, Sandra and I've got you know who." I supposed I was 'you know who'. The box said to hold a second and moments after the gates began their slow but steady opening. It was like entering the gates of Jurassic Park, my heart skipped at beat as we slowly rolled through the gates and entered the property. Now there was only a wall or two between us. I wanted to make a joke to prove that I was relaxed and in high spirits but nothing came out of me. I held my breath as we rolled into the driveway and parked. I almost couldn't get out of the car, in fact the good Doctor had to walk all the way around to my side to open my door for me.
I was suddenly concerned with the way I was dressed. I felt I was at Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen and all I have on was a French Maid's outfit and a gimp mask. I had gotten dressed in clothes picked solely on whether or not Tyler would find me alluring in them. Sure, it was my 'uniform' of a tank top and shorts but it seemed a little underdressed. Maybe he would see the flaunting of my very female body as an insult. A kind of a 'Fuck you! Check out my boobs!' kind of thing.
The good Doctor looked at his 'coping well' patient frozen in the passenger's seat in his car. "You can do this," he gently urged me. He was right. I could do it. I swivelled on my bum, swinging my legs out and hopped out of the car. I smiled a smile that hopefully told Dr. Chisholm 'yes I can'.
To call John Draffen's house his home would be a little inaccurate. The word that first came to my mind was fortress. There were at least 2 closed circuit camera on our way to the front door, the brick fence around the property seemed fiercely medieval in it's construction and bars were a regular feature along every window. It looked like Pentridge Prison had a baby. As the clopped along the gravel path following Dr. Chisholm, I couldn't help but wonder if all this was to keep people out or to keep John Draffen in.
"John can an insanely private person," explained Dr. Chisholm, "The transformation really amplified it 10 fold." So, it was there to keep people out, that made me feel a little less scared, but only slightly.
A chubby, mature woman waited for us at the front door. She looked like what Draffen did when he was female. I say that but all 40-year-old mums look the same to me. "Hi," she said warmly as if she was the mum of one of my friends and had just baked us some biscuits, "You must be Gemma." Unless she hadn't seen a newspaper or a TV in the past month she knew exactly who I was but I wasn't going to call her out on that. I wondered who she was. "I'm Sandra, I'm Mr. Draffen's carer."
A carer? Why don't I get a carer? All I get is Annette asking me how much I play with myself and my Mum 'cooking' for me. John gets his own carer? Sandra waddled down the hall. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?" As long as I can remember adults were always offering each other tea and coffee. I am pretty sure if all of them said yes to every offer of tea or coffee that supplies would be instantly exhausted in one day. It didn't make any sense to me; I didn't like the taste of either.
"No thank you," I told Sandra.
The house was impeccably clean as if there were a troupe of cleaners polishing and dusting it every minute of the day and they had just taken a 20 second lunch break. I needed to pee but I told my body this was important and that there would be plenty of time to pee later. I hadn't had to hold on very long as a girl yet and wondered if we could hold on as long as boys could. Maybe that could be my first question to John. We passed three bedrooms with signs on the doors, 'Grace' 'George' and 'Kathryn'. I deduced that they must be Draffen's children. I wandered if they were home but I remembered Annette saying that they lived with their father.
"Just through this door," Sandra told me. I nodded slightly and she and Dr. Chisholm walked to another room. I remained frozen for a second unable to move. The thought of just running out the door and scaling the fence leapt in my mind every few milliseconds. I tugged at my shorts wishing I had worn some modest jeans and a less booby top. I willed my hand to knock on the wood panel door but it didn't move. I tried again to no avail. Perhaps I would have to just wait here, stuck to the floor, until John came out to go to the toilet or get something to eat.
"Don't be such a chicken!" I whispered to my hand. My hand doesn't like being challenged so it lifted up and rapped on the door quite loudly. The sound of the knock subsided before I heard a response. Perhaps Sandra had gestured to another room and I was requesting entry into an empty laundry.
"Come in," said a voice that was both deep and meek. I had heard John Draffen speak and in a second I would see what he looks like.
I contemplated pretending I wasn't there before realising that he had already heard me knocking. I stood tall (well, tall-ish), and slid the wood panel door open.
John sat in a chair in what appeared to be and office/lounge room hybrid. I no longer felt underdressed because he wore a white t-shirt covered in stains, grey tracksuit pants and a blue dressing gown. I hoped this wasn't him dressing up for company. Even though he looked quite tall he seemed quite skinny as if eating was never high on his priority list. He had long hair and a beard making him look more like a prisoner of war than a mother of three. His hair was greasy and tangled as if having a cock had made him forget every beauty tip he'd learnt since he was a little girl. There was a quite large bald spot on his head, threatening to take over. John Draffen was unkempt, like an abandoned caravan park overrun with weeds.
He wasn't smiling.
I walked over to him and my crotch had never felt so empty. Each step I took reminded me that between my thighs was only a slight mound where my freshly shaved vagina lived. John looked at me like I was the boy who stole his vagina, and I could help but think that he had my cock between his legs. "Hi John," I squeaked and I outstretched my thin, hairless, girly arm to shake his hand.
"Gemma," he said, flatly, "Please call me Kate." He stood up to welcome me but at the same time intimidated me. He was taller than I had anticipated, casting a shadow over my entire body. I craned my neck up to look him in the eyes. I shook my hand with both of his sweaty hands one resting on top of the other. It was a firm handshake; in fact he squeezed a little too hard.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just that I thought you went by John now."
"I let the Doctor's call me John because they say it's important for me to accept my new gender but everyone else calls me Kate still," Kate looked at my eyes, studied to see if I was friend or foe. I am sure he wanted to hear that I still went by Michael but I wasn't about to lie to him, I was Gemma now and I didn't want anyone calling me by my former name. Because he was waiting for an offer to call me Michael, one that never came, there was an awkward silence between us. He gestured to a chair across from his.
"It's a real pleasure to meet you. I mean, I feel so much less alone now," I told him.
"That's pleasant to hear. I have been watching your progress closely." He opened up a scrapbook that sat on the coffee table between us. There were pages and pages of pictures, articles and stories about me and only me. Mum had one too but there was something a little more menacing about Kate's, maybe it was because Kate's scrapbook was twice as thick. "Sandra cuts out all the your articles for me."
"Oh OK," I squeaked, my voice sounded higher than ever, maybe it was because Kate's was so deep.
Another silence. Whenever I pictured meeting Draffen the room was always filled with chatter. We had so much in common we could finish each other sentences. It was so awkward in here that I had trouble starting my own sentences, let alone finishing anyone else's. I leaned over. "So, how are you coping?" I asked.
"I'm numb to it all now. My life has changed so much that I barely remember the life I miss so much. When I wake up and realise that it's still not all a dream I don't get as depressed as I used to. It's been a year now. A year and three days to be exact. I wouldn't say it hurts any less, I'm just used to it," Kate said glumly.
How was I supposed to react to that? I couldn't say, "Well, my big problem is that a really cute guy wont kiss me even though I know he's attracted to me!" I had no idea what to say so I just nodded my head in a concerned way.
"So, is it a let down, finally meeting the famous recluse Kate Draffen?" Kate almost sounded proud of how much of a let down he was.
"No, not at all," I lied, "Like it or not we share a pretty unique bond. There aren't many of us you know?"
"Yep. We are freaks through and through."
"Have you ever talked to any other SGR suffers before?" I asked.
"Emailed one from Canada when I first got transformed but I found her attitude a little grating after awhile. Isn't it weird how so many people find religion after a tragedy happens? Never understood it myself. If there is a God up there why did he let the tragedy happen in the first place?" Kate lit a cigarette and looked at it for a few seconds. "You don't mind if I smoke do you?"
"Not at all," I lied. The smoke came billowing out of his mouth before the answer had hit his ears, his other hand scratched his scalp.
The room smelt damply stale, as if Kate's tears had flooded the room and no one had cleaned the carpet. The room was also quite messy, books and papers strewn randomly around the floor. "So, you like being a girl?"
I had to choose my answer carefully, I knew that. "It's not the worst thing in the world. It's a lot better than being sick or dead."
"Yeah, I miss it," he said wistfully, "I loved being your age. I used to do ballet. I wasn't very good at it, I was the chubby little girl at the end of the line but I really liked it. And I loved being a mother. It was really the greatest experience of my life."
"Do you still see your children a lot?"
"My ex is nice enough to bring them around on the weekends. But they don't usually stay the night. When I first transformed they would be around a lot but my freak-outs were scaring them too much. It was hard for them to cope with their Mummy becoming a man too. It's such a shame I can't take them anywhere, I just can't leave the house. Plus three kids following me around calling me 'Mummy' would look a bit weird," Kate chuckled a sad laugh.
"They call you Mummy?" I asked. I had never thought about that.
"The two older Georgie and Kathryn still call me Mummy. But Grace, she's 3 now, calls me Man Mummy, which just kills me. She doesn't even register that I am the same person. When she used to stay here at night she used to cry out for her Mum and when I came into the room she cry all the more harder. You tell me something in the world that is worse than that."
I couldn't think of anything. It sounded horrible. Being upset at being called 'Hootie' just sounded trivial now. I knew there were people that were disgusted and scared of my change but they kept their distance, attacking me behind my back or from a safe distance on TV. Kate was describing her own child turning against him. Since I don't have any children I thought what it would be like if my Mum didn't accept me, I don't think I would be alive today.
My eyes watered a bit, "That's so horrible."
"And my own husband couldn't even bring himself to lie in the same bed with me. I remember hugging him and seeing disgust in his eyes. Real disgust. I don't blame him for leaving me at all but it doesn't make it hurt any less."
I had heard the saying 'There is always someone worse off than you' a lot before but I never thought I would find the person they were talking about.
"Do you miss your husband?" It was a stupid question to ask but something inside of me wanted to hear every horrible, tragic story that Kate had to tell. It made me feel better about myself.
Kate stubbed out the cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. It was weird seeing someone smoke inside. While my Mum was a fan of the occasional fag now and again she would always smoke outside. I couldn't remember that last time I had seen someone smoke indoors. "Yeah, I miss him. But it's hard to miss individual things when everything is missing. I miss driving my kids to school, I miss them crawling into bed with us on a Saturday morning, I miss going power-walking with my sister and my friends in the mornings. I miss making love to my husband when the kids finally all fall asleep."
No wonder I was coping much better than Kate, I only missed finding Jessica Alba attractive and being able to run without the fear of knocking myself out with my own boob.
"It sounds like you've had it pretty tough," I empathised.
His eyes glimmered as he pulled up a sleeve on his robe. His wrist was well and truly cut to ribbons as if he wore a watch made out of broken glass. It was obvious to me he had tried to kill himself, a lot. "Pretty tough," he winced.
The haunting sight of his torn up wrist was hidden once again by his robe. "Enough of my whinging. I read that you're writing for Girlfriend magazine."
"It's Dolly actually."
"Oh, that's right," he said gruffly, "Dolly. What will you be writing about?"
"Learning to be a girl. Coping with my new body and all the different social situations I find myself in. Stuff like that. It will echo what a young girl is going through, hopefully."
"Boys?" asked Kate.
"Yes, I am discovering boys at the moment," I confessed, "Do you like girls?"
"Women," Kate clarified, "Yes, I do. It sickens me but I am a little woman-crazy. I found out what it's like to me a man, to have sex on my brain all hours of the day. It's driven me a little batty. Actually to be honest with you, seeing you there in your tight little top and tight little shorts has aroused me no end. I can't help it, its got a mind of its own. But I'm sure that wasn't your intention; to get a honry old man all riled up." I had appreciated Kate's honesty until then but telling me I had given him a boner was a little out of line.
"It's really hot outside," I explained.
"Don’t pay any attention to me. I'm just saying I know this is a serious meeting about a serious thing and yet my penis finds away to get involved. They are quite amazing things. Do you miss yours?"
"Yeah, but the new thing between my legs is keeping me on my toes." Although this wasn't the most desirable area of conversation it was a fair bit lighter than things were earlier.
"Have you had your period yet?"
"Any day now," I told Kate.
"Well, that's one thing I don't miss!"
It's hard to take the conversation anywhere from that point.
"So who do you think is responsible?" Kate asked me.
"Huh?" I blurted out.
"Who do you think hit us with the SGR nanobots?"
Honestly I hadn't thought about it. To me it was just a freak event of nature that did this to me. I kept constantly forgetting that SGR was a completely man-made condition cause by someone who had programmed the robots to change people's genders.
I didn't have time to make up an answer because Kate was already about to launch into a speech. "After all my research and I have done a fair amount of research, I am fairly certain it was an accidentally release by the US military. They have the cure too, Gemma! But because they don't want North Korea and China knowing that they have harnessed the power of nanobots they are refusing to acknowledge any involvement. It shits me to think that I can't get my life back because some moron in the Military doesn't want the world to know they are working on nanotechnology.
"They're not going to give up easily. It's going to take someone very important growing a pussy for the truth to be revealed. So we've got to sit here, in our wrong bodies until the President grows a C-cup! Fucking Americans! If it wasn't for their lust of power then Kate Draffen and Michael Taylor would have never been newsworthy names!" Kate leapt out of his chair mid speech, swinging his arms about wildly. This was something he believed in very strongly and something I had never even thought about.
"Maybe someone else will find a cure," I suggested.
"Not likely, no one is even looking for one! Know why? Because any country with decent enough technology knowledge is too friendly with the US! They're all in cahoots!" Kate stared out through the window, the bars casting striped shadows across with weathered face. "But there hope for us yet, Michael. I believe it going to go out of control. Soon more and more will suffer SGR. And all it will take is someone in the loop and a 'miraculous' cure will be found quick smart and we'll be able to go back to our old genders, maybe even our old bodies. Won't that be amazing?"
Kate's eyes were lit up light a night sky filled with stars and fireworks. However, the eyes were gleaming in a scary manic manner as if he was going to cut off his penis and try to give it to me. He clearly believed all this talk of conspiracies and cures. I wasn't as convinced. It was a man-made problem, of course and errant military technology was probably right. But I doubted it would spread, it had been only 1 or two cases a month for the past two and a half years, and in fact no one in the world had been infected since me.
Perhaps I would become furious like Kate was if I thought about it, but I didn't want to. Blame is something that can take over people's lives. I was a girl now and I determined to live my life as best as I can.
"I said, 'Won't the be amazing?'" repeated Kate, staring at me.
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, "I guess so. But you can't hold your breath for something like that…"
"You think you like being a girl, don't you?" he seemed to be getting angier but instead of pacing more and swinging his arms more he sat down and stared me intensely in the eyes. "You come here, in your tight little clothes, wiggling that little bum of yours and you think you're a real girl. I bet you lie awake at night wishing for a man to come in and root you, don't you? Well, you're just lying to yourself, Michael." He said 'Michael' more scornfully than I had ever heard it said before. "It's a lie. You're a guy in that head of yours. And one day you'll wake up and you will realise that you are trapped in the wrong body. You're a guy trapped inside a girl's body, Michael."
I sat up straight and returned his steely gaze. "My name is Gemma. I used to be Michael, but I'm different now, John."
John's eyes glowed a dark fiery red, "Don't Gemma me. And don't you call me John, you of all people. Look, you can dress a baker in a butcher's uniform and put him in a butcher shop, doesn't make him a butcher."
"No it doesn't," I agreed, "but the baker can learn to be a butcher, instead of just sitting around and complaining about how shitty it is to be dressed up as a butcher."
I stood up, I was didn't want to hear anything else from Kate Draffen. To think that two people could go through the exact same thing and come out the other end as two completely different people scared me. I used to fear I was becoming a 'real girl' too quickly, but seeing the alternative made me proud of every girl thing I had achieved.
Kate sighed. It was heavy sigh, a sigh the made a thud as it hit the floor. "Look, I don't want you to leave here angry. I'm sure you came here looking for some advice and perspective, right?"
"I knew you were having a harder time going through this than I was but I thought you might be a little wiser than me," I confessed, "And then I thought I might be able to help you."
"I'm beyond help, Gemma." His eyes were damp with fresh tears. He sobbed loud as if he had been holding it in all our conversation. I didn't go comfort him. I couldn't. He wouldn't believe anything I had to say. I began the walk to the door. My crotch still felt hauntingly empty.
"Don't forget — You are Michael," were the parting words of Kate Draffen.
I collected Dr. Chisholm and we drove back to the hotel.
I didn't say a thing.
****
As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. There are only a few more chapters left.
Comments
Another Party Heard From...
Not sure what I was expecting from Gemma's conversation with the reclusive title character, but it wasn't that. (Even though in retrospect I probably shouldn't have expected Draffen to be all that sympathetic.) I'm a little curious whether it's going to make Gemma second-guess herself for some time to come, or whether she can appreciate that their circumstances are as different as their reactions have been.
It does seem logical that if a cure were found Draffen would demand it and Gemma, after due consideration, would probably turn it down (unless some nightmarish personal situation develops for her soon, or there's a further bizarre and deadly stage ahead for those who've been infected). But I suspect that it'll remain a moot point as far as this story is concerned.
Eric
Swishy, I Must Apologize To You
For NOT reading and commenting upon your story. Been very busy with writing mine and reading other stories. But NOW that you have a few chapters posted, I have the fun of catching up.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
Wow, John has a real issue
I understand what Kate lost, and it is rough to lose a family.
If John would come to his senses, he could make a new family by moving on. But John won't because he doesn't want too. I understand it is hard to give up your own children, and that would make a person insane. I know it would me. I do pray that John realizes, there is no going back, and she has false hope of returning to her former gender.
I think Gemma has the right attitude, and that is what it is really about, and of course, Gemma hasn't lost anyone, thankfully.
Very nicely done. I loved this chapter and how you finally showed how the media can twist words and actions to get people to think the worst about people. I truly wonder how Holly is coping with what she has done? It will be interesting to see the results once Gemma gets back to school.
Looking forward to the next chapter.
Hugs
Joni W
What a chapter!
You really have a great story going here! Your portrayal of Gemma is spot on. She has her problems but she comes across as a real person with realistic reactions. John/Kate Draffen is the other side of the coin. So many of his/her responses are similar to how the TG experience is for us. It hurts and no matter how we rile at it there is little recourse. In a way Kate has had his real life test as John and it's just not working. I rather hope, unless the nanties prevent it somehow, that they stop try using Kate as an experiment and try to help her transition as best as they can back to female. Perhaps it might fall far short of what Kate really needs but as sad and unhappy as she is, how could staying male help?
Michael was able to cope and grow with becoming Gemma and the contrast between them is great. Again what a story!
hugs!
grover
Gemma and Kate
Gemma has been turned into a girl. Kate was turned into a transexual. What a contrast and an excellent idea for a story. This feels very real.
BTW, I've never heard the word "carer" before. Is that Aussie English? In the US, we would say "nurse" or "caregiver" or some longer phrase.
Hugs,
Erin
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.
“Carerâ€
Carer is very much a UK word. Our government is always talking about them and saying how us older people (senior citizens) who live alone should have access to a carer should we need one. That is until you ask them to let you have one!
A very cynical (and arthritic)
Gabi
Gabi.
Now I'm Dying...
to know if Gemma ends up with Tyler. I'm also dying to know whether Kate will ever find happiness again. Great story!
Lisa
Another wonderful installment!
Swishy,
Great installment. Poor Kate/John! It breaks your heart. She has lost everything, and not by choice, and to become what she did not want to be.
When a transgendered person decides to transition and gives up family as a result, it is a conscious decision, certainly a difficult and painful decision, between keeping those we love, and doing what we must for our own sanity.
John did not make that choice, whoever infected him with the nano technology took that away from him.
This is tragic.
Thankfully for Gemma, she has not lost anyone (other than maybe Holly) and her rewiring seems to have left her content to be female.
Great work, looking forward to the next section!
Hugs,
Kristy
Very Deep
...with real drama! I don't mean that in a pejorative sense, either. This isn't some fluffy little comedy or soap opera, even if it has a sprinkling of jokes and the occasional chewing of scenery. It's a very real look into the nature of identity, perception and coping.
I find this story surprisingly thoughtful and insightful. I'm extraordinarily impressed. It not only deals with, but delves into, the nature of societal norms, human interaction and group dynamics, besides the very issue of what it is to be.
Crap. I'm sounding way more pompous than I want to...
Okay, it's not War and Peace, and it's not Shakespearian poetry, but it's developing into a pretty damned serious bit of literature nonetheless.
The characters are, as has been previously noted, riveting. They're alive, complex, somewhat accessible, but not transparent. The reader might come to feel like they understand them, and yet never be able to predict their actions with any certainty. They have depth. Not only Gemma, but wherever the focus lingers, there's often a surprising depth to the character, always a little something more to see and try to understand.
The plot, too, is not a static thing. While there are clearly elements that have been established, ones that demand the reader's attention and keep it, none of them allow you to predict what's going to happen next. The author is clearly in control. The story is organic. Every development seems to add something.
If there is a danger here, it is that the organic quality is too good, and will take over and run away with the plot and characters and never let the story finish. This is a rich story, but I can see it's going to be a little like wrestling a genie back into a bottle to bring it to a conclusion. And, as much as I'm enjoying this story, I hope you can bring it to a conclusion before we learn absolutely everything there is to know about all the characters or to be able to predict the plot. If you can do that, it will validate everything that came before, and finish on an emotional peak. No small order, to be sure, and a serious trick of timing. Too soon, and an ending would seem premature and unsatisfactory. Too long, and the story and characters themselves get dissipated, and the whole experience weakens.
So far this is masterful. I'm hoping you can hang onto this little devil just long enough for the perfect finish! Whatever happens, I'm very grateful that you've shared it with us thus far. Thanks!
This is terrific.
The people are real and alive and you can practically see and feel them, almost smell Kate's room, which is maybe not a good thing. Not that it doesn't ring true, it does. The contrast is beautifully done and as it's laid out it works very well. You have to feel for her, er him, um... an example of the TG thing wrapped up in a tragic persona. I think most could recognise at least some of that. Gemma with her more youthful and perhaps flexible approach while still wrestling is at least on top, mostly. Her internal meanderings are great, form the sardonic observations to the quiet questioning.
Great story Swishy.
Kristina
ps... can't help wondering if Gemma's Beef stroganoff is up to Parliamentary standards. Sorry guys, Aussie current affairs inside joke. Rather partial to Thai myself.
Kate is a mess, Holly proves a beautiful cover does not ...
guarantee a beautiful content.
Kate had several disadvantages, the sudden and complete onset of her transformation. Though Gemma suffered it was under somewhat controlled circumstances and he/she knew what was to come. Gemma is also far younger and less set in her ways.
Kate is like a Howard Hughes, hiding from the world and reality. There is a saying; Occam’s Razor that says essentially the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one. Kate was so traumatized she sees conspiracy in everything and she *knows* because it was a *government conspiracy* if enough heat is put on it or if a few members of the government get the transformations a cure will be found. It is sad her husband left her and her kids are uncomfortable seeing her but she is in part at fault in refusing to accept her fate. Her/his youngest has it right, Kate/John is Man Mummy. I think the child does at some level remember mom but as this man.
She can’t be her husband’s lover but they could be close pals. She could be a second dad to her kids. She could maybe start a second family. She need not give up on her dream to be a woman again but she needs to live in the present, not a fantasy. As it is she is driving everyone away. She is guaranteeing the loss of the very things she hates loosing. Droning on about conspiracies while you let your life and health deteriorate is stupid and oddly selfish. Kate should fight ot be a serious part of his/her kids lives instead of blaming the US or China or whatever for making an experiment of her. Maybe she could go the SRS route despite being a big man, she could get the funds easy enough if she granted interviews. Or she can be her own kind of man but she needs to do, to be something. Her insisting multiple times Gemma is still Michael was cruel. The woman that John was should be ashamed of his/her behavior.
Gemma has it right, get on with life. It may be a somewhat different life but it is not necessarily an inferior one, in her case she has opportunities he never would have as a boy. The bit about trash TV journalism was spot on and the comments others made about Holly were informative. The *A* list girls who befriended Gemma may have appeared shallow but for the most part are decent, normal girls and helpful. Gemma, despite a few flaws and a libido that wants to get her in trouble is a kind, honest girl. She lusts for Aaaron but will not push it too far because she refuses to hurt Lisa or Aaron. Her teasing of her publicist was funny.
What is really telling of the depth of Gemma’s character was her comments about how hard it will be for Holly after her tirade on TV against Gemma. She is angry at Holly and says she might hit her if she approached her now but at the same time she feels bad for her and especially so on learning Holly has very few close friends as Holly is a poor friend herself. I wonder is Holly really that mean or is it a reaction to some harm done to her long ago? Can Gemma somehow help her former Deb partner become a happier person?
What Gemma and her friends need to do is, as Gemma said, take the high road and ingore Holly but I think there is more they should do. Gemma and her friends have enough influence to maybe get the no same sex couples rule suspended. That would take the wind out of the sails of the two girls who most suspect are simply pulling a stunt. That and because they made her comments worse than they seemed Dot should come to the Deb in a show of support for her friend. IE Dot would be *saying* "I think the Deb is demeaning to girls but I defend mu friend's right to particpate."
Gemma also can use her column in Dolly to express in concise and clear terms why she is doing to the Deb, and that she was going as a boy anyways and thus build more public support. When the public learn Gemma as a boy was formerly Holly’s Deb partner, Holly will look a right bitch. Her claiming to help comfort Michael is sickening. She didn’t turn on him but she sure pulled away fast and did little to help her adapt. Dot had problems but after a period of difficulty is a solid friend again.
Loved mom overhearing Gemma talking back to the TV about Holly refusing to give Michael sex when the doctors suggested he have it as a man while he still could. I quote:
>>
"I have been one of Michael Taylor's best friends for years," Holly proclaimed, "I was the first person he told about having Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration too. I comforted him that night while he cried."
"Bullshit! You wouldn’t even have sex with me!" I yelled at the TV a little too loudly. Mum and Gemma shared a weird look between them. "What?" I shrugged, "The doctor told me I should have sex while I could."
>>
Holly referring to Gemma as being unfair to *the real girls* and being a *thing* shows how little kindness that woman has in her.
A great bunch of chapters, thanks
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
The big difference ...
... between Kate/John and Michael/Gemma is where they were in their lives. I'm sure that alone counts a lot towards how their attitudes to their traumatic changes differ.
Kate had reached a stage in her life where she knew who she was and more or less where she was going. She had a husband, children and presumably was expecting to spend the rest of her life with them as a wife and mother. That's a lot to lose and it's hardly surprising she's resentful of her condition.
Gemma, on the other hand, has lost very little by comparison. As Michael, she was already going through one of the big changes we all experience in life - adolescence. Moreover she hasn't lost her family; they are still there to help her cope with the change. She still has, if not the same, a very similar life to the one she had as Michael. OK, she's had her problems with Dot and even more, with Holly as we learnt in this episode but nothing like Kate.
So, all in all, I think the differences between the two victims of SGR are quite understandable and very well illustrated in Swishy's excellent story.
There is reference to Gemma's first kiss when recounting her relationship with Tyler but hasn't she already had it when she spent time with the two backpackers down on the beach ... and more IIRC?
btw Erin queried the term 'carer'. It's commonly used here in the UK to describe anyone who looks after severely disabled or ill people, or indeed anyone who cares for others. They are often close relatives; parents in the case of children or the children of the elderly. It can be used in reference to professionals but commonly to those who willingly sacrifice a lot of their lives to the care of loved ones. It describes perfectly what they do. It almost goes without saying that most of them are women.
Geoff
Captivating
Found this story yesterday and enjoyed reading it. I do have to wonder why John/Kate seems to have taken no steps towards SRS if (s)he feels that strongly about what happened. I'm also wondering who's paying the expenses for that year of being a recluse.
Hugs,
Kimby
Hugs,
Kimby
You did This So Well
I loved the way you handled the different scenarios,Holly betraying her friends and the utter cynicism of the TV production; the excitement of the trip to Sydney and the attraction to Tyler; the photoshoot, and finally the touching and poignant scene with Kate/John. Losing everything you loved in middle-age would produce a little insanity in anyone and we should not be too quick to judge. Nobody knows how they would react until they have to experience such a thing. It would be like losing your whole family in a 'plane-crash but worse as you could still see them walking around.
All excellent stuff and it has left me panting for the next chapters of Gemma's transition to girlhood. You really are doing a great job of sustaining the story,
Joanne
I would have thought Kate would have at least thought about a ..
... "normal" transition back to Kate. Maybe she has tried and they found the nannites wouldn't allow it. Or maybe she fears that if she went ahead with hormones and surgery when the cure finally is available it wouldn't work to make her genetically real again because of them. Inquiring minds want to know.
"All the world really is a stage, darlings, so strut your stuff, have fun, and give the public a good show!" Miss Jezzi Belle at the end of each show
BE a lady!
I could have sworn that Gemma was told that SRS would not be
an option for quite some time, because of the nanobots, but I could not find it, though I spent a good part of the last couple of hours looking for it.
Hugs,
Kristy
Gemma's meeting with
Gemma's meeting with John/Kate is a real eye opener for Gemma, plus proves that you "create an image" in your mind about a person well before you might ever meet them in person. Sadly, the image Gemma had was not the one she got when she finally met Kate.
Kate has had a bad hand dealt to her, but she/he is not saying to herself, "well I got lemons, I will go make some lemonade". She needs to "shake it off" and as my grandson like to say "get over it". J-Lynn
That's our plight then isn't it?
From my point of view, being a woman is superior to being a man. I don't have to act any more. The only thing that puts a damper on it is missing the family. I am doing my very best to accept that they are gone.
You are doing a wonderful job of describing the feelings of Kate. It is just so sad. I would be the last one to tell her to just try to accept things. I would not be surprised if she did not survive. I don't think I would.
More than once, I have heard a FtoM say that they wanted the power that a Man has. It seems that Women sometimes do it for much different reasons than Men do. That is not a surprise.
Many blessings
Gwen
"Don't forget – You are Michael,"
oh wow. Kate/John is in a tough place mentally, unable to adapt to the change. I hope Gemma does better.