Wheels and wings 3

Character List.

Jack Thomas Later AKA Ellie.... Transvestite/intersexual and keen cyclist.
Amanda Thomas AKA Amie.... Jack's sister.
Charlotte Dawson.... Keen girl cyclist and Jack’s soon-to-be girlfriend.
Bob.... Cycling club captain.
Mr Thomas Weston.... School games master and keen rugby player.
Billy Davies.... Rugby ‘jock’, kind to Jack, he fancies Charlotte.
Marjorie Spencer.... Holder of unofficial ‘Prettiest-girl-in-the-school’ title.
Miss Elizabeth Postlethwaite.... The English Mistress.
Aunty Olwen.... Where Jack changes for school and leaves his bike.
Mandy.... Olwen’s daughter, Jack’s older cousin.
Mr Griffiths.... The County solicitor.

Chapter 3

When he returned home late that afternoon, Jack was overjoyed at his victory in the junior sportive. He’d won his own under fifteen section and even beaten some of the boys over two years older in the section above. Bob, the club captain, was tremendously impressed and they’d stopped to savour a celebratory ice-cream with several members of the ladies section that included a girl called Charlotte who also cycled for the junior girls and who’d also won her section.

At school Jack and Charlotte were now becoming fast friends for she shared most of Jack’s classes. Until they were a year into high school, Jack hadn’t known that Charlotte was a club member.

They had first become acquainted in class on their first day at high school but at that time they had little to do with each other for they seemingly had no common interest. Eleven-year-old boys had little to do with eleven-year-old girls. What’s more Jack didn’t attend the weekly Friday night cycling club meetings in the sports centre. Jack preferred training to talking.

Conversely, Charlotte loved the weekly social evening and went nearly every Friday evening with her dad. This circumstance changed when Jack’s father and mother got divorced.

One Friday evening a few months after starting their second year of high school, Jack couldn’t go training because his mum and dad had separated and the family routine was at sixes and sevens. Jack had worshipped his dad and the sense of betrayal when his father had seemingly ‘walked out’ on him had left Jack totally devastated. Jack was unable to train alone at night in the winter because of the various dangers associated with cycling alone on dark busy roads. On other weeknights he usually cycled with various other senior members of the club but on Friday nights these seniors went to the club meeting. Consequently, Jack’s dad had previously accompanied him on Fridays. Now that father — son relationship was over.

A few weeks later, to cheer him up, his mother had run him down to the Friday evening club meeting. On stepping into the room, Jack was pleasantly surprised but also shocked to recognise the pretty girl in his high school class. It was only then that Charlotte also realised that the Jack in her class was ‘THAT SAME JACK’! She found it difficult at first to reconcile the fact that the boy all the people in the club were saying was a boy going far in cycling was the same effeminate undersized runt of her class at school. Charlotte’s first utterance on realising the two Jacks were the same person was a squeal of excitement as enthusiasm surpassed her disbelief.

“Oh my God! You’re THAT Jack; the racer. I’ve been waiting to meet you ever since Dad brought me to the club. What brings you here tonight? I thought you always trained with your dad on Friday nights.”

At the mention of his father, Jack teared up and Charlotte’s dad Doctor Dawson quickly intervened to spare the boy his tears.”

“Uuuhm, I don’t think Jack wants to speak of that Darling. Shall we get some tea and biscuits?”

When father and daughter returned to the table, Charlotte pursued the new discovery of Jack’s true identity but avoided the divorce issue that her father had explained to her while making the extra mug of tea.

“So what’s it like being the toast of the club Jack?”

Jack had the decency and modesty to blush as he squirmed under her scrutiny. Then he begged her.

“Well I wouldn’t say I’m the toast of the club, there’re lots faster than me.”

“Yeah but they’re all seniors and stuff, you’re not yet thirteen!”

“Look, Charlotte, pleeease don’t tell the people at school. They’ll only make trouble if they find out I avoid rugby and stuff just to go cycling. Tom Weston the games master doesn’t know about it, he thinks I should be training and playing rugby. Please don’t tell, pleeease!”

Charlotte recognised his inherent shyness and it endeared him to her. She promised not to reveal the cycling. On this basis, they soon became firm friends both in school and out. Thus Charlotte became one of only three people at the school who knew that Jack raced for the Wheelers junior section; - the three being Charlotte, Jack and his younger sister Amie.

-0-
Now back to the laundry incident.

-0-

That fateful Saturday morning when Jack arrived home after winning the race, he knew immediately that something serious was afoot as his mother met him at the door. He had been all set to describe his successes but that ambition died as he met his mother’s gaze. He fell silent as he helped Bob lift his bike and kit out of the van and waited while Bob paid his respects to his mother. Then as the van started to leave he turned to face his mother.

“Hi mummy; what’s wrong?”

“Well first you’d better tell me how you did in the race and then it’s upstairs to your bedroom.”

Jack swallowed at the mention of his bedroom as foreboding sent a lump into his stomach however; he did as asked and firstly described his race,

“I won my own section in the regional fifty and beat all but five of the boys in the under eighteen class. Bob reckons I’ve got excellent prospects. Charlotte also won her section in the lady’s ten mile so Bob was doubly pleased. Charlotte’s asked if I want to go out with her tomorrow on the Sunday club ride. Her dad will be there but it’s not a hard ride. It’s the ramblers group, they’re the slow old fogies section but Bob’s accompanying us to give Charlotte and me a workout for a couple of circuits around the Mynydd bach. There’s a coach from the British team selectors who wants to see both of us again after our performances this morning. So what’s the problem mummy; you look worried?”

“I am worried darling but I think best upstairs. Follow me. Amanda’s gone into town with her friends.”

Jack felt a sinking feeling and when he followed his mother into the bedroom his worst fears were confirmed. Laid out on the bed was his stash of Amanda’s things. They were all neatly folded and had clearly been washed that morning while Jack was out racing. He swallowed fearfully and stared dumbly at the incriminating display for a few seconds until his mother sat on the bed and spoke firmly.

“Look at me Jack. I want the truth.”

Jack looked up to meet his mother’s gaze for a second then lost it again as his eyes nervously scanned the assorted items until his mother spoke firmly again but in a slightly softer tone.

“I asked you to look at me please.”

Her softer tone eased Jack’s nerves slightly but it still took all his courage to look up and meet her eyes. As he struggled to hold back his own tears he was ashamed to see the light glisten in his mother’s eyes. She was on the verge of tears too.

“D’you want to tell me what this means, why?”

Jack had almost lost his voice and he simply mumbled incoherently as his mother strained to catch his words.

“I didn’t get that. Did you say you like them?”

Jack nodded as slightly as he could as though trying to make the admission just as small and inconsequential as he could. His mother sighed as she asked.

“D’you wear them?”

He nodded again then his gaze fell to the floor again but his mother persisted.

“So you don’t just ... just, just use them?”

Jack looked up uncertainly; he wasn’t sure what his mother was driving at. She took a deep breath and sucked her own lip nervously.

“I mean do you use them for ... you know; for pleasuring yourself or do you just wear them? - Like a girl would wear them, just for hygiene and comfort.”

Jack wasn’t quite sure what his mother was driving at. He had just turned thirteen and was a late developer. Puberty had not yet arrived. Because he didn’t mix much with other boys he hadn’t gathered much of juvenile male lore concerning puberty and masturbation. He looked uncomprehendingly at his mother as he asked wonderingly.

“Pleasuring; what d’you mean?”

His mother sighed again and took a deep breath. She hadn’t noticed any stains or anything on the underwear as she had washed them and she had inspected each item closely. Jack’s incomprehension simply confirmed her suspicions insofar as he was not using the garments for stimulation and masturbation. Her son had not fully entered puberty yet but that raised a bigger question and the answer she was expecting served only to worry her more deeply. She followed up with the next questions.

“How long have you been wearing them? Is it a long time? How old were you when you started?”

Because the three questions could be answered with one simple answer, it served to make Jack feel the inquisition would be over without too many more questions so he answered promptly and quite honestly.

“’Bout six, maybe seven, no six I think.”

“You mean you’ve been doing it for what; nearly seven years?”

Jack did a quick calculation and nodded. His mother rolled her eyes and muttered softly.

“My God! And I never found out. How could I have missed this?”

She sat on the bed beside him and inquired further.

“Who’s been washing them?”

“Me.” Jack owned, secretly glad that he had proved he could keep himself and his secret clothes clean.

His mother frowned and debated asking him where he dried them but she let that question drop. She had found no damp or stained spots around the house so there was no need to press that question. Her next questions were more pressing and she turned to the question of Jack’s nature by asking if he felt he was a girl or what. Jack started to tear up as he wagged his head uncertainly.

“No! I’m a boy ... I think.”

“You think! Don’t you know? D’you want to grow up to be a man or a woman?”

This question posed a problem. Jack wanted to be a boy and have Charlotte as a girl-friend, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to grow up all hairy and muscular like so many of the men in the cycling club's adult section. He preferred the women’s soft skin and rounded shapes but he wanted to keep his boy bits. Wanting to keep his boy bits meant he would become a man and provided he didn’t become too muscular and hairy he believed he was happy to become a man. The good side was he would be able to avoid the hair by shaving his legs, which lots of cyclists did. He could shave the rest of his body as well for that wouldn’t show under the Lycra. He concluded therefore he would like to grow up a man but a smooth skinned, slender man — possibly with ... tits.

To this end, he told his mother he thought he wanted to grow up as a man then he thought again and ventured a question that he knew full well, ventured into seriously taboo territory.

“If I grow up as a man, a small smooth hairless man, can I wear women’s clothes?”

“You mean a transvestite ... are you saying you want to be a transvestite?”

Jack nodded; he had been all over the internet and knew what the word meant. He also knew something of the condition so he felt it needed further explanation.

“I don’t think it’s matter of wanting to be a transvestite, I think it’s a case of just being one whether you like it or not.”

Jack shrugged hopelessly while his mother frowned again as she realised the internet had a lot to answer for. She replied thoughtfully.

“D’you mean dress and live full time as a girl?”

“That would be nice. Can I do that?”

“Sorry, the answer’s no. For a start school wouldn’t allow it. I’ll have to get some advice on this. I’ve got a lot of questions as well. If you want to wear stuff in bed, I suppose that’s okay but no more stealing Amanda’s clothes. She’s very upset about it. She won’t want her stuff back now you’ve worn it. I’m going to have to buy a replacement for nearly every item that’s here. You haven’t been stealing anybody else’s clothes have you? You know, washing from other people’s clothes lines and stuff ... or worse, shoplifting?”

“No!" Jack squeaked his protest then added. "I’m not that sort of thief.”

His mother didn’t argue about that particular answer. She was just glad it was contained at least within the family. Fortunately, her ex husband had been scrupulously fair about the finances of their divorce settlement. He paid a substantial maintenance allowance for the children so clothes and bicycles were not a serious issue. The allowance did not run to expensive carbon fibre bikes, hence the second-hand bike which the club had helped him buy. Additionally, Jack’s mum had a job again now that the children were old enough to go to secondary school. She also owned the remote cottage they occupied about half a mile outside the village. She had inherited it when her mother died. Owning a remote cottage outside the village meant that if her son wished to indulge in this strange transvestite activity he at least could do it safely, in private around their cottage. She spoke again.

“Do you feel you’ve got to do it? Is it just an urge or is it a compulsion ... a necessity?”

Jack was flummoxed by the question for he could see little difference between urge and compulsion. He just stood dumb and uncomprehending and tearful which left his mother feeling forced to take some sort of supportive step. To this end she ventured what was for her, a very brave question.

“Would you like me to buy you some clothes and stuff so that you don’t have to steal Amie’s?”

At first Jack thought his mother was teasing him then he realised she was serious. In truth he would have been delighted if his mummy bought some clothes but he was terrified of admitting it at first. Then slowly, as the silence became onerous, he slowly nodded his head. Eventually, he found his voice and mumbled nervously.

“Uuuhm, yes, can I? Is it allowed?”

His mother’s eyes teared up, partly through disappointment and partly through relief. There was certainly a problem but seemingly there was also a solution ... of sorts. She explained.

“You can dress up at home and in bed, but not to school and not when we go to town. I don’t know about cycling. Boy and girl lycra is pretty much the same isn’t it?”

“The club colours are the same, Lycra stretches so the lady's jackets are just smaller. Charlotte and I are the same size and we have borrowed each other’s Jackets between races to keep warm while the other one races. There’s no difference between Charlotte’s top and mine. Though I can see her bra straps through her top.”

"Well you certainly won’t be able to wear a bra. Your Lycra is too tight.”

She frowned as she saw the flicker of disappointment whisper across his features but she wagged her finger and reiterated her feelings.

“You’ll not only get caught out, you’ll embarrass the family as well. No bra while cycling, right! Besides, what if Charlotte saw it?”

~~ooo000ooo~~.