The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3393 by Angharad Copyright© 2023 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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My hair these days was shorter than it was when I was playing at being a boy, but not by much. I was lucky to have quite thick hair not the flyaway type of so many men and some women, so it was stylable and I used to get it trimmed every few months while I was growing it but once it fell under Stella's control, she trimmed it very regularly and she was a very good cutter. The first day we met when she hit me off my bike was very fortuitous as I didn't have much money to spend on decent cuts and the trim she gave me as she helped me transition from poor, scruffy little Charlie to svelte Cathy was an immeasurable help and I'm sure influential in attracting Simon, though at the time was probably the furthest thing from my terrified mind. The fact that I seemed defenceless and gauche helped as well and it wasn't until much later that I began to realise I was quite desirable to men, although as I was dealing with the fact that until weeks before I'd been considered myself as legally one of them help slow down the feelings of attractiveness. As far as I was concerned, I was a skinny boy with biggish hips and poached-egg boobs who desperately wanted to be a woman. It doesn't inspire self-confidence in dealing with anyone but especially in dealing with interested males or competing with other females; although the latter always had an advantage over me until I'd had surgery.

Many transsexuals who wish to be women or see themselves as incomplete women manage to get around many of these shortcomings by imaginative use of other orifices or orally, neither appealed to me, I wanted to be as complete a woman as I could be before I gave myself to someone and Simon didn't enter the list until I'd got to know him for a while. He showed great patience before I had surgery as well as great generosity. I liked him perhaps because although he pretended to be a cocky man of the world type, he wasn't and I sensed a vulnerability behind his facade, not as great as mine but there was something he was hiding about himself.

We all got tied up with the fact that he was of the aristocracy as was his sister obviously, but although he kept that from me for some weeks, it was the fact that he was scared of powerful women although he was also attracted to them at the same time. At that point I was scared of my own shadow which gave him a chance to show off to me but as I gained my confidence, helped by Stella and Tom, I began to realise that I could lead him just by dropped hints or suggestions and when done properly by a woman, the man usually thinks it's his idea which is immediately supported by the woman who manipulated him in the first place. Okay, I know it doesn't seem exactly fair, but remember the average man is quite a bit bigger and stronger than most women and some, unfortunately, seem prepared to use their strength to get what they want irrespective of it being a shared goal. I had learned that in school.

Although I had received plenty of beatings from my father and also bullies in school, there was one boy who really frightened me, that was Paul Mason who I witnessed beating up a much bigger boy than me and who ended up in hospital with the injuries he received. Of course, no one saw anything, so the code of omerta stayed intact. I hadn't seen much more than the start of the fight and was too busy running from the area, not wishing to be seen, so I didn't see the end product with the heavily beaten boy lying unconscious on the ground. When I heard that I was horrified but the grapevine carried all the gossip, much of it exaggerated suggesting that the victim had been killed, he hadn't of course, but his mother removed him from school a week or so later.

I kept well away from Mason who was a year or two older than me and my luck held until I had the misfortune to be cast as Lady Macbeth and started attending school in the girl's uniform and much too much makeup, but we were making a point.

Obviously, wearing a skirt and enough face paint to keep the Forth Bridge water resistant, I wasn't allowed to use the boys toilets, partly for my own safety and partly to keep up the illusion being presented. Murray had caught me and I was told to go and take off my makeup. This meant going to a disabled toilet on the first floor - it wasn't used by anyone because it's difficult to get a wheelchair up a flight of steps, so I breezed into the loo and found to my horror it was occupied by Mason, who was coolly smoking a fag in there. Smoking was of course prohibited throughout the school.

As I said, I strolled into the toilet saw Mason turn around, and was about to walk out and return when he had left when he grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me back in. I was scared, very scared, especially as no one had seen me enter the toilet and Mason could pulp me in seconds and escape with no one seeing him either.

"Hello, girly boy," he said to me and I mumbled a response. I have no idea what I said I suspect I just squeaked and my chattering teeth did the rest. He laughed at me. "They call you Charlotte, don't they?" I appeared to have greater celebrity than the school psychopath."Why are you wearing the girl's uniform?"

"T't'to piss off Murray," I stuttered.

"A desirable outcome," he agreed, "But why doesn't he just send you home to change?"

"He's made me play Lady Macbeth in the school play and told me to wear the costume to help me acclimatise to dresses and walking like a woman, but that's hot and stuffy, and Mrs Smith who look after the costumes told me it was damaging the dress and to wear ordinary girls' clothes to get the same effect. My dad agreed I should wear the costume and of course, Murray did too, but when I talked it over with my mum she agreed with Mrs Smith and she bought me the uniform. Siân, my girlfriend and I dreamt up the makeup and painted nails just to wind up my dad and Murray. He just sent me to wash off the makeup."

"It takes guts to wear that outfit in front of a thousand hormone-laced boys as well as peeing off his mintship. It suits you, but then that's your own hair isn't it?"

"Yes, I grew it as a protest against him wanting me to get a 'short back and sides', then I discovered that Murray absolutely hates it and me, so I refused to have it cut except to get it trimmed now and again."

"I've seen you around school, it looks rather feminine."

"I can't help that, I'm just smaller than most other boys."

"I wonder if you're a boy at all, you have no hair on your face and you're not covered in zits, yet you have a girlfriend, not a lezzy is she?"

"Of course not." I was starting to relax. I'd never talked to Mason before and I suppose had I known he was hiding in my loo, I wouldn't be now. I knew that he could beat me up without any effort, but I began to think that as long as I didn't give him cause to touch me he wasn't going to.

"Relax," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you, I don't hit girls." I decided not to remind him that I wasn't one officially. "So you like dressing up?"

I found myself blushing, "Um ... it's alright when you get used to it," I spluttered as a reply.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he said ,"You're far too comfortable dressed like that; you like it don't you?"

Blushing redder than any brake light and sweating profusely, I could feel a trickle run down to my bra strap. "I ... um ... It's okay."

"Charlotte, I'm not going to spread it around school that you like skirts and dresses so you can be honest with me."

"Yes," I confessed.

"You still look like a girl when you're in boys' clothes."

"I can't help that."

"That's not strictly true is it? You wear girls' trousers then don't you?"

Another drip of sweat ran down my back under my bra strap. "They fit better," I suddenly said, "Boys' ones are too small in the hips."

He looked at me as if appraising my hips, "I've seen your arse in them, it is more than a bit girly so I'll believe you."

I relaxed a little more but I was still scared of him especially having seen him in action. He moved his arm quickly and I flinched. He laughed, "Relax, I told you I don't hit girls, especially ones as pretty as you, but then you're really a girl aren't you?"

Goodness, I was embarrasse; if a supposed thug and moron like him could see it why didn't all the others or did they. "I ... um," I spluttered once more.

"You can tell me, Charlotte, I won't tell anyone; I have a cousin who used to be a boy but is now happier living as a girl, why don't you do the same?"

"Oh!" I gasped; so he knew more than I thought he would, "My dad wouldn't understand and he's beaten me before for being too girly, trying to make a man of me."

"Tell him from me that he's wasting his time, beating someone is only justified if they deserve it."

"What did Hart do to you?" The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I began to feel scared again.

"You know about that?"

"Um ... yes," I said.

"He learned about my cousin and threatened to tell everyone that I had a cousin who was different; I couldn't let that happen so I shut him up. Why? Do you think I was wrong?"

"It's not my place to make judgments but did you have to hurt him so much?"

"My cousin got a beating the day before from some bloke who discovered her deception, she ended up with broken ribs, so I was mad at that and Hart just pushed the buttons. What d'you think it would do to your reputation if all the boys knew you were really a girl?"

"I think I might have given them a clue anyway." He roared with laughter.

"I like you, like I said it takes more guts than I have to do what you're doing. If anyone hassles you just let me know, they won't do it again, and you're convincing, more as a girl than a pretty boy, but I'm sure you know that."

"I never object to people telling me that," I said almost batting my mascara-laden lashes at him.

The bell went for a change of lessons and he looked at me, patted me on the head, and said, "I've gotta go; keep up the good work."

A moment later I was on my own and my heart was still beating from the adrenalin surge he'd created in me. I still didn't like him; violence is never an answer but I no longer feared him and I respected that he knew more about gender dysphoria than most of the chimps walking about out there.

I pulled out a makeup-removing wipe and toned down my makeup and no longer looked as if I was going clubbing, gave myself a squirt of cologne and picking up my handbag, I draped it across my chest and then hefted my book bag onto my shoulder and walked out into the corridor and to my next lesson.

"Glad you could join us, Charlotte," said old Housman dismissively, so I gave him a beaming smile and batted my lashes. He looked suitably embarrassed as he turned to the board again. I hated Maths and I hated the idiot who taught it to us.