Crossing The Line Chapter 30 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

---

(title picture Andrea Piacquadio)

The afternoon gave way to evening and some further rain. While the boys were plotting and scheming at Harry’s house; Drew and the girls were having an impromptu beauty session.

“Why do I have to do my nails again, I only did ‘em yesterday?” pouted Drew. “Harry thought they looked okay; in fact he told me I had pretty hands.”

“We’re not gonna like, have time in the morning, that’s why;” scolded Jules. She was really getting into the idea of wearing the racing skins, especially as John was going to be there in his archery gear.

“You’ve changed your tune,” said Drew, “When did you last ride a bike, I’ll bet they had one big wheel and a tiny one behind.”

Maddy stopped poking about in her vanity case as she heard the siblings squabble. “What d’you mean Gabs?” she stood up and thought for a minute, then began to laugh, “You mean a penny farthing?”

“That is so cruel Gaby Bond, just for that I’m gonna like, wax your legs instead of shave them;” threatened Juliette.

“I can shave my own legs;” declared Drew, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Huh, last time you missed half the hairs.”

“So what, they’re blonde anyway.”

“So, you wannabe scruffy and show up Mum do you? This is Jenny Bond and her tidy and scruffy daughters. The scruffy one is a champion racer too, you’ll be able to spot her by her hairy legs, they are like gross!”

“Don’t tease her, Jules; you know you haven’t got your wax strips here anyway, ‘n’ I forgot my epilator thingy: so we’ll have to shave.”

Thinking of his return home and school, Drew was concerned that he’d look odd. Then he remembered he always shaved his legs anyway, it made it easier to rub cream on them afterwards. Besides they weren’t very hairy anyway, not compared to Clive or even Harry. Both of them had very hairy legs, like tarantulas.

He looked down at his legs, there were hairs visible so shaving looked inevitable. He tensed the muscles in his thighs and whilst there was some muscle delineation, it didn’t show too much. If anything, his legs didn’t look muscular at all, nor did he have great knobbly knees like most boys. Inside he shuddered a little, with his wider hips and incurving thighs his legs looked like those of a girl. It was little frightening, he’d seen his legs loads of times, shaved them countless times; but he hadn’t really looked at them. Now, in the bedroom with the other two teens, he looked at himself in the mirror: he saw a girl looking back. How on earth was he going to keep any credibility once he went back to school; how would the other boys see him? Was he actually a boy any more given the way his body seemed to be changing? Why wasn’t he covered in zits and his voice deepening? Clive had a few straggly hairs on his chin and top lip; Paul had a deepish voice and loads of spots.

He looked at himself again; he had budding breasts and a wobbly bum; something was obviously not quite right, somewhere. He stood almost transfixed by the vision in the mirror, wondering what to do.

“Come on body beautiful, never mind admiring yourself,” said Maddy.

“I wasn’t; I was thinking,” replied Drew.

“Thinking about what?” asked Maddy.

“My body: I’m like, supposed to be a boy; yeah?” he asked, and Maddy looking quizzical nodded in agreement. “So why does my body look like a girl?”

“Does it?” said Maddy, well aware that it did, but trying to avoid getting involved in the issue.

“Well look yourself and see,” invited Drew, still posing in front of the mirror clad only in his bra and pants.

“I think you have a super body, slim and well toned,” said Maddy putting her arms around his shoulders from behind and kissing him on the neck.

“Does it look like a boy’s body?” persisted Drew.

“I don’t look at that many, so I’m no expert,” said Maddy blushing a little as she told a white lie, “Ask Jules, she’s seen lots more.”

At this moment Jules walked into the bedroom from the bathroom, “Ask Jules what?” she repeated what Maddy had said.

“Gaby thinks her body should look more masculine,” said Maddy.

“What for, I think she’s got a super body?” said Jules.

“For a girl,” added Drew.

“Well of course,” said Jules rolling her eyes upwards.

“See what I mean;” said Drew, feeling some tears approaching.

“What have I done now?” said Jules loudly, “Are you sure you’re not on, ‘cos you sure are a moody cow?”

Maddy intervened and escorted Jules outside the room while Drew sat on the bed feeling despair. “She’s still coming to terms with the fact that her body is like, turning female spontaneously.”

“So, what am I supposed to do?” asked Jules.

“You could be a bit more sensitive.”
“I seem to spend my whole life in her shadow,” hissed Jules back to Maddy, “Have you any idea how that feels? Drew this; or Gaby that: I am sick and tired of being the other Bond, the invisible one. Don’t talk to me about being sensitive, if she gets periods as well, then maybe she’ll appreciate what every other girl has to go through; not just the glamour and make up!” So saying she walked off abruptly and went downstairs. Maddy felt angry, yet at the same time understood where Jules was coming from.

She went back into the bedroom; Drew was sat on the bed his head in his hands. She sat alongside him and put a comforting arm around his narrow shoulders. She felt confused, was she comforting her boyfriend or her girlfriend?

“C’mon Gabs, it’ll all work out eventually,” she tried to sound upbeat without committing herself to any particular opinion, at least to his ears.

“No it won’t, look at me; I’m some sort of freak!”

“No you’re not, you’re the most wonderful person I know.”

“I’m a freak, look at me. I’m supposed to be a boy and I’m growing tits for Chrissake!” He clenched his hands as he said this and shook them in frustration. However, Maddy saw the gesture as more feminine than masculine.

“It could just be the effect of wearing the falsies, they might have caused your pecs to stretch.” Maddy was still trying to be upbeat.

He pulled off his bra, “Look; this isn’t stretchy skin, it’s a boob.” He pointed to his budding breasts with their enlarging nipples and areolas pointing upwards. “If it was just the skin stretching, they’d point down, not up.”

“I see what you mean,” said Maddy, who leant forward and touched them, he jumped and smiled at the same time. “Sensitive, are they?”

“Wow, like yeah!” he replied.

“So it might not be all bad then?” cooed Maddy.

“What d’ya mean, I’ve still got to cope with being a boy with boobs when we go home?”

“Yeah, but when we get home we could…” she touched his nipple again.

“Gaby have you finished in the bathroom yet?” called Jenny from downstairs, “Your father wants to have a shower.” The spell was broken and Maddy escaped from the bedroom leaving Drew with more questions than answers, but with one possible bonus. He dressed himself quickly and told her he’d shave his legs later.

Drew messed about cleaning his bike while he waited for Dave to shower. It was only a half hearted clean as the bike wasn’t dirty and he didn’t want to upset Maddy by chipping a nail, but it got him out of the glare of the goth-moth.

The rain had passed and the evening finished with a late show of sunshine casting long shadows before it. While Drew waited for the bathroom, the boys firmed up their battle plan. It depended upon one or two things happening first and one or two people being there; so it was a reactive plan. However, Harry was convinced enough of the probability of the first part, that he persuaded William to assist. When they parted, Harry was buoyant, whilst William walked home wondering if he’d been conned.

Somewhere else, not too far away another interested party was plotting. His plotting however, was official. Inspector Dimmock was working out how many officers he could actually disperse throughout the showground. It wasn’t many. In sum total it was three. At first he had felt angry that he had been refused extra manpower, but a political party conference at Bournemouth had taken all the available officers. A cabinet minister, with a penchant for controversy was appearing at the conference and demonstrations were expected.

Never mind; thought Dimmock to himself; We’ll cope, just like the three musketeers. As he pursued this thought, he actually warmed to the idea of himself as D’Artagnon leading his band to success in capturing one of Richeleau’s men. It was certainly an unusual perspective to see Meadows in such a role. If he’d had to agree the analogy, he’d have wanted to have been the Cardinal himself, not a lackey.

Meadows was thinking very different thoughts as he polished the twin barrels of the shotgun. His father had been a career criminal with a dreadful record for violence; so much so, that after his last ‘job’ where a security guard had been almost beaten to death; Meadows senior, was sent down for life. It proved to be a life sentence; he expired in prison. Officially it was an accident, he’d slipped in the showers, fracturing his skull in the fall. The help he’d received in achieving this fatal injury from a member of a rival prison gang, was never mentioned in the investigation. Few in ‘The Scrubs’ mourned his passing.

During the periods when he wasn’t ‘inside’, Meadows senior, taught his son all he knew about his ‘trade’. One of these skills was in shortening the barrels of a shotgun, which has to be done carefully or it can blow up and damage the shooter. Rodney Meadows, knew his task well, he’d done it a few times. He smiled as he checked the barrels from the opened breach. It was a lethal piece of kit, capable of killing from inches away and yet concealable inside a trouser leg. It might make him walk a bit funny, but if he pointed it at anyone and fired, they’d be unlikely to walk at all. Contemplating this made him smile even more.

He had dreamt how he was going to kill ‘Barbie’ and had thought of so many ways, that he was now spoiled for choice; a bit like a chef being given a joint of meat and being unable to decide how to cook it, there being so many good recipes. Meadows saw himself as an artist, so whichever method he eventually chose, he would enjoy. His quarry wouldn’t, but then she should have kept her long nose out of his affairs.

He peered out of the window of his caravan. He’d owned it in an assumed name for a couple of years. The motor bike parked outside had proven useful both as a means of transport and a disguise. Once clad in leathers and helmet, no one could identify him. He had considered simply riding to the show and walking around in his biker gear, but the added excitement of actually abducting ‘Barbie’ from under the noses of her family made the bother of the stupid ‘Blobby’ suit worthwhile. His escape was worked out and tomorrow was going to be so good; he smiled to himself again.

Compared to the events elsewhere, Drew’s life was relatively quiet. He was sat on the bath shaving the fine blonde hairs on his legs. It took him no more than fifteen minutes to soap them up with his father’s shaving foam and then run the razor up them removing the hair, finally washing off any remnants of foam and drying them. He quite enjoyed rubbing in the moisturiser afterwards, and felt pride in seeing there were no little blobs of blood; No nicks again, I’m getting good at this, he thought to himself.

He replaced his father’s razor on the bathroom window sill, and took Maddy’s moisturiser back to her room. Stuck for something else to do, he then sat down and repainted his toe nails. He admired his well shaped leg and ankle and his dainty painted toes, watching himself in the wardrobe mirror as he flexed and pointed his foot.

Then he began to blush as he realised how girlish he seemed to be becoming. What was he thinking of? He was a boy; his body could do what it damned well liked, he was still a boy.

He observed himself in the mirror; the pink satin bra and panties; the longish blonde hair; the pretty girl’s face…it went on and on. He stood up and looked at the small waist and broadening hips. He turned sideways, his bottom bulged out behind him and there was no sign of an Adam’s apple in his throat.

He faced the mirror again. He was small and delicate for a boy, he looked like a girl. He tensed the muscles in his thighs, despite their ability to win races; there was little in the way of muscle definition. He had girl’s legs.

What was he going to do? Down here he was sort of safe, except for the local loony who was trying to kill him; insofar as no one knew he was really Drew. Once he got back home, however; things were a very different kettle of fish. What a stupid expression, he thought; Since when does anyone put fish in a kettle? He pondered on this, even chuckling once or twice at the vision of someone cooking kippers in an electric kettle.

Once the humorous interlude had passed he returned to his worry; What am I going to do when I get home? Okay, out of the girly clothes and make up; get a hair cut; then what? Get them to shave my bum down or make my hips smaller, cut my boobs off? What am I gonna do? What will happen when they see me in P.E.; I can hardly use the showers with my boobs flapping in the breeze, can I? Will I have to wear a bra all the time to stop them bouncing all over the shop? How will I hide it? I’ll have to keep my blazer on all the time, even in hot weather. I won’t be able to go in just a sweater anymore; they’ll show unless it’s very loose.

If Paul or Clive start messing around; will they feel my bra or worse, my booblets? Gee wiz, what am I gonna do? He was so rapt in his own thoughts he didn’t see Jules enter the room.

“What ya’ doin’ body beautiful?” she teased.

“Nothin’, just thinking,” he looked down at the floor.

She could see his mood was low and it caused her to think before she spoke. Part of her wanted to get some of her own back, but he was still her brother; well sister; well whatever, was still her sibling. She felt some smidgeon of guilt for her previous behaviour, so soft pedalled. “Like the toenails; what were you thinking about?”

Drew looked at his painted toes and smiled, then blushed. He glanced quickly at her, made a quick decision that he would talk, after all she was his sister and he needed all the family help he could get. “About when we go home.”

“What about it?” asked Jules, sitting on her bed.

“Well, look at me.”

“I am, what’s gonna like, happen?” she looked quizzically at him.

“What are the others gonna say?” his eyes were forming tears which were threatening to escape at any moment.

“What others, they all know you as Gaby anyway; so where’s the problem?”

“Clive and Paul don’t, do they?” he said, tear dribbling down his cheek.

“I thought they did; don’t they both fancy you?”

“Clive does; but they don’t know I’m me?” another tear dripped onto the carpet as he continued to stand looking downwards, screwing the toes of his left foot into the carpet.

“Who do they think you are then?” asked Jules.

“They think I’m Maddy’s cousin.”

“But you are Maddy’s cousin; so am I.”

“Yeah; but they think I’m another cousin.”

“Let me check this out. You are telling me that they all think you as Drew is someone different to you as Gaby?”

“Yeah.”

Jules began to chuckle. “Are they all blind?”

“Seems like;” said Drew squirming. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t funny, instead he smirked as well.

“Okay,” she chuckled, “When you’re all done up, make up etc., I can see they might not recognise you as Drew the demon cyclist; but for God’s sake, how can they not see you when you’re not; when you’re just wearing a skirt ‘n’ top? Are they all stupid?”

“Dunno,” replied Drew; “I s’pose I’ve never thought about it before, I’ve just been glad that they didn’t seem to notice.”

“So how many know about your dual identity?” asked Jules, beginning to think more seriously about the issue.

“Not sure, all my usual gang do ‘n’ some of the cheer squad. Some of the teachers; ‘n’ the family. Can’t like think of anyone else.”

“So none of the boys know?” asked Jules. Thinking, Oh boy, have you got some interesting times ahead, girl!

“Not that I know of, and I think I’d like know by now; I’d be like, dead!” Drew swallowed hard as he finished the sentence.

“You are silly,” said Jules standing up and embracing him, “I’m sure they’d all forget very quickly and just want to date you.”

“I doubt it, they’d like wanna bash my head in.” He paused and the tears flowed again, “Why Sis, why me?” he held tightly onto her and sobbed on her shoulder.

“Why you what, Gabs?” she replied, holding him and gently patting his back. She could feel his vulnerability but had no idea what he was feeling, other than scared. She wondered what it would be like to wake up and find herself turning into a boy, and shuddered at the prospect.

“Why am I turning into a girl?” He felt the warmth of her shoulder under his cheek and smelt her scented, girl odour. He felt safe; she might squabble with him in private but he knew she’d never really hurt him.

“I dunno Gabs, I’m hardly Dr Freud, now, am I?”

“I know, but you’re a girl; ‘n’ you know about bein’ a girl.”

Jules wondered how she could answer this and the presumed following questions. “Yeah I’m a girl, but I don’t like think about bein’ one; it’s like, natural.”

“Yeah, but you had sex education and Mum told you things about periods ‘n things.”

“You’re not having periods are you?” Suddenly she felt a bit guilty, the monthly ‘curse’ was just that, a curse. However, it was something you got used to unless you had extra heavy periods and pain or gynae complications, such as poly-cystic ovaries. She had teased him mercilessly a couple of times in the past day or two about periods, but if he was experiencing them, it was to be pitied.

“No, course not; I’m a boy remember?”

“Who’s turning into a girl…”

“Yeah, right;” he paused and hugged her, “I’m glad you’re my sister.”

“Thanks Gabs, I’m glad you’re mine.” Oops! I shouldn’t have said that..

“It’s beginning to like, look that way;” said Drew almost philosophically as he snuggled into his sister’s shoulder.

“Well at least you look like a girl; I saw a prog on the telly a few weeks ago about men who want to become women. Most of them still looked like men after they’d had operations and hormones ‘n things.”

“I didn’t see that one, not that I’m interested really; I didn’t want to be a girl, it sorta just happened.”

“Yeah, mind you; none of the people in that documentary said they’d chosen to be what they were; it just happened, too.”

“Oh!” said Drew, “I’d never thought of it like that, surely they must choose to have a sex change an’ things?”

“Yeah, s’pose so, but I think they like, meant, they didn’t choose to be a woman in a man’s body stuff.”

“No, s’pose not. Do you think, I’m like, the other way round?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Well, I’m like a boy whose body’s becoming a girl; but I still wanna be a boy. Well, sometimes I like, don’t mind bein’ a girl.”