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I am in no rush to leave school at the end of the day. I decide I can’t risk leaving the under-stage storeroom until the bell has gone, in case I get spotted wandering the corridors during lessons. Once the final bell of the day has gone, I then have to wait for all the students to pass before slipping out. The first thing I do after leaving my hiding place is dash as quickly as possible to the girls’ bathroom.

I haven’t been to the loo since break this morning and I have been drinking all afternoon from a large bottle of water. I have needed to pee for the last hour. I didn’t want to risk being spotted going to the loo by any teachers, having to pass by several classrooms. All the doors have windows in them, and I can’t risk being challenged, as Jennifer is not a student.

I take special care to enter the girls’ room instead of the boys’. I go into the bathroom to find that the three stalls are occupied and there are two other girls waiting. Both are jiggling slightly in desperation. I am seriously contemplating jumping up on one of the sinks when it’s finally my turn. I just manage to get my panties out of the way in time.

I quickly finish my business and leave the stall for the next girl to use. Queuing is not something I had been used to as a boy. Not wanting to engage in small talk I swiftly wash my hands and leave.

I head slowly towards the bike sheds. After checking that there is nobody I know hanging round, I unlock my bike and ride off. I don’t want any of my friends accusing me of stealing David’s bike.

Instead of riding straight home, I go for a long bike ride through the countryside to relax and clear my mind. I let my hair down and it blows in the wind behind me as I pedal along. I soon find that this puts a bit too much strain on my neck, so I end up with a ponytail again.

I finally get home at around six. I am just putting my bike away in the garage when my father reverses his car into the driveway.

“Where have you been?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“School, followed by the scenic route home to help me relax from all the stress earlier,” I reply.

“You have been riding around for the last five hours?” he asks sarcastically as we both head into the kitchen.

“Of course not,” I answer, “School ends at half three remember. By the time I had been to the loo and collected my bike, it was getting on for four. I have been riding for a little over two hours.”

“You got chucked out of school at lunchtime!” My father shouts at me while making us both mugs of coffee.

“I remote viewed the lessons. I thought it would be easier than trying to catch up later,” I shrug as I get potatoes out of the cupboard beneath the draining board and start to peel them.

“Where from, you weren’t at the shop?” my father asks as he gets some chicken breasts out of the fridge. “Your aunt isn’t happy about your disappearing act.”

“If Aunt Janice had collected me as well as my projection I wouldn’t have needed to disappear. I stayed in the car as long as I could, but I do have a limited range. If she had been in a mood for listening, then I might have pointed out her mistake earlier. However all she seemed interested in was getting home as quickly as possible without any regard for why she had to collect us both,” I say as I put the potatoes in a pan to boil.

“When I was forced to leave the car, I left the shop and returned to school. I spent the afternoon hidden under the stage, as originally planned, remote viewing my lessons taking notes as appropriate,” I say waving my notebook in his direction.

“What the hell were you thinking trying to strangle another student?” he yells at me while throwing the chicken in a frying pan of hot oil.

“I wasn’t thinking. I was too angry and upset to think rationally,” I admit with a sigh, “did the school bother to tell you why I was so upset?”

“Something about Susan being hit by a stink bomb,” my father replies, “While it’s honourable that you should stick up for your friends and family, trying to kill somebody is not a proportionate response, young lady.”

“Oh, that was just the icing on the cake, the last straw that finally broke the camel’s back!” I reply angrily. “There was one of those things in my locker as well. Susan was just unlucky that she got to her locker first. However, that’s small in comparison to what I had to endure earlier. What would you have done if someone had played a video of you dressed as a girl, out walking with your sister, accompanied by the caption ‘John Palmer, perverted transvestite faggot’?”

I was now yelling at the top of my voice and was fighting back tears. I stormed out of the room and upstairs. I lay face down on my bed sobbing. I know girls tend to be more emotional, but this is becoming frustrating. I roll over onto my back and take some deep breaths.

“I would have found the person who did it and broken their nose,” my father says calmly from the doorway. “They didn’t tell me about that, however they said there were some details that needed to be discussed in person in the morning. We have a meeting before school tomorrow.”

I sit up and he sits down beside me, giving me a hug. I rest my head on his shoulder.

“Tell me what happened,” he whispers softly.

“It was during Mr Spencer’s English class. We have just read Macbeth and we were watching a film version for comparison. All of a sudden, the video changes to Susan and me walking down by the river. The video was taken of me in Jenny mode a few weeks ago before my change. Unfortunately, I am still recognisable as David in the video. Therefore, everybody could clearly see me in a dress. To make sure the words ‘David Palmer’ and ‘perverted transvestite faggot’ were superimposed on the clip. I was shocked and upset. I didn’t think it was worth denying so I admitted to being cross-dressed, but nothing further.”

“After class I had a discussion with Mr Spencer,” I continue, “I expressed my suspicion that Dwain Scott was behind the incident. I also admitted to living part time as a girl outside of school and that my family are aware of my gender preference.”

My father hugs me tighter, before motioning me back downstairs so that he can keep an eye on the cooking.

“Squirting stink bombs had been planted in the lockers belonging to me and Susan. I was able to disable mine, but not until after Susan had been covered in foul smelling liquid. I saw Freddy and Dwain laughing at us from down the corridor, and I lost control of my temper.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” my father chuckles, “But at least I can see why. You seem to be extra moody since your change.”

“You try having all your male hormones replaced with female ones and see how you are affected,” I state.

“No thanks!” he replies.

“For all I know I could be suffering from PMS,” I laugh.

“Seriously?” my father looks over at me with concern.

“How would I know? I’ve only been female a week. I assume I’m fully functional. Therefore, it’s bound to happen sometime soon, as will all the other monthly symptoms. I just don’t know when. Assuming I started a cycle when I transformed, I will probably have to start using those tampons in a little over a fortnight’s time.”

“Too much information,” my father steps back with his hands in the air, “you can go discuss that with Susan and Aunt Janice.”

I laugh at my father’s reaction, “Thanks!” I reply while getting some plates out to warm in the oven.

It’s not long before our evening meal is cooked and we sit down to eat. After washing the dishes, we settle down in the lounge. Instead of watching TV, my father decides we need to discuss the meeting with the school in the morning.

“Attacking another student should have meant an expulsion. I guess they took the stress you were under into account when suspending you for the afternoon,” my father reasons, “I guess they will probably let you back into class tomorrow.”

“That depends,” I say sheepishly, “there is something else I haven’t mentioned yet.”

“What did you do?” my father is looking at me with raised eyebrows.

“I sort of made my own video, and put them into the same position as me,” I guiltily admit. Within a few minutes I have my email open and on screen on my netbook.

My father reaches over and clicks the link to the video. The two of us sit and watch the clip.

“I take it you didn’t manage to coerce those two miscreants into doing this?” my father asks me.

“No, it’s me in both cases. I shot Dwain first, then Freddy, then merged the footage together so it looks like they are sitting together. Its similar to the technique Eddy Murphy used in the Nutty Professor. There is no evidence that I made the video, although I am probably prime suspect,” I answer as I download a copy of the video in case it’s deleted from the internet.

“Explaining how you managed that would not be a good idea,” my father opines, “unless the school figures it out, we don’t need to say anything. However as they aren’t going to punish you for this stunt then I will. You’re grounded for the next fortnight.”

“Dad!” I exclaim.

My father ignores me and clarifies the rules. “That means you only leave the house to go to school or when I give you direct permission. You come straight home and don’t have any visitors, except family. Also, no projecting yourself elsewhere and claiming you haven’t left the house because your body is still here.”

It’s not going to be that bad, as I don’t go out much anyway. My river walks were mainly for girl time anyhow, and I can live without them for a little while considering I am now a physical female. He said family was allowed over, so Susan can still keep me company.

We sit in silence for a while before I speak again, “I think I have probably been well and truly outed. Not only have at least twenty people seen me cross-dressed, I also shouted at Dimwit that I wasn’t a girl to be messed with. I think the grapevine will have ensured everybody will know by tomorrow. The only consolation is that my video will have diverted some of the attention onto Dimwit and Thicky as well.”

My father nods his agreement and waits for me to continue.

“They may decide to give me the option to attend school as a girl. We have a tight equal opportunities policy. They wouldn’t want to be seen to discriminate against me by denying me the ability to present how I choose,” I reason, “However I don’t want to attend as David in a dress. Standard procedure for transsexuals would be to make them use separate toilet and changing facilities, not that I would be using them anyway. I don’t want that stigma hanging over me.”

“I will only go to school as Jenny if it’s unconditionally as a girl, without projection,” I declare, “That isn’t going to happen. I would rather have a fresh start where there is no history of being male, even if I have to drop out of school this year and start again next year in the year below. However, in order to do that we need to sort me out with a proper legal identity.”

“I still haven’t worked out how to do that,” my father answers. “Turning up at a doctors and getting them to examine you would prove you are female, but how can we then explain your sudden change, or even prove you are who we say you are? Your ability to project is astonishing, but it wouldn’t pass a full medical examination. They couldn’t take a blood sample for example.”

“I did wonder about that,” I say, “if I collapsed as David, complaining of stomach pains in order to fake being intersexed with a blocked uterus, they would have to operate in order to fix the problem. However, it wouldn’t work, I don’t think I can do a convincing enough projection of internal organs to fool a surgeon. Also, my boy bits would vanish as soon as they are cut off. That’s even assuming I can fool an X-ray or MRI scanner.”

“I think we can safely reject that idea as a plan,” my father agrees. “I have been discussing the problem with your Uncle. He may be able to help us. One of his school friends is now a qualified lawyer and works in the District Attorney’s office. Richard has suggested contacting his friend and discussing the problem with him. He could keep the conversation fairly anonymous to start with and not identify you until necessary.”

“Do you think that this person can be trusted?” I ask.

“Yes, Robert Turner is well-known in the community and is recognized for his stance on justice for all. From what I have read about his history online, before joining the D.A.’s Office he represented a number of individuals in cases related to discrimination and harassment, including several related to homophobia,” my father states. “Richard goes out drinking with him about once a month. He trusts Robert and believes he may be able to help with the legal aspects.”

“OK, in that case let’s see what advice he can give us,” I reply.