(aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2191 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad
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Danni came down looking much less assured than she did going up stairs and I wondered if she’d taken on board my threat to withhold the magic pills–sounds like she’s got a drug dependency.
“Auntie Siá¢n, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can, Danielle.”
“You’re a doctor so you should know.”
“I might if it’s a medical type question.”
“When you prescribe pills for someone who do the pills belong to?”
Instead of her saying the prescribee, which would be the usual one and is probably correct she looked at me and saw me glowering at Danni. “Well, technically, they’d belong to the person for whom they were prescribed but there are special conditions to that, such as when that person is considered incapable of controlling or keeping them safe such as someone who might be very ill or even a child. In that case while the pills might be intended for the person named on the label, the control of those pills may lie with the parent or carer of that person. Does that answer your question?”
Danni obviously didn’t think so from her body language which was very girlish–was I wrong about this child, was she after all a girl or was all this learned? “How old have you got to be for your parents not to control the pills?”
“Eighteen, I should think–to be honest, I’ve never thought about it before, usually the patient I prescribe for collects their script and takes control of their medicine, at least that’s the theory.”
“So a parent could stop someone from having their medicine?”
“Yes, though in the case of an essential medication like insulin withholding it would be seen as dangerous.”
I decided to intervene. “What she’s on about is that I am withholding her oestrogen because she behaved badly earlier. She hasn’t taken any yet as I only got them this morning.”
“Why are you taking oestrogen, anyway?” asked an astonished Siá¢n.
“Dr Stephanie said I could have it.”
Siá¢n looked at me with an expression that said, ‘explain please.’
“She has valid reasons which I’ll discuss with you later.”
“I’m not sure I can think of any,” Siá¢n replied shaking her head. “How old are you, Danni?”
“Thirteen.”
“Bit young in my book, but I’m sure Dr Cauldwell knows her own business.”
“I think so,” I agreed and Danni went off again presumably to plot some more or think where I hid them. She won’t find them, they’re in the car, I forgot to bring them in.
This became a topic for discussion and while I wasn’t entirely happy with a thirteen-year-old taking hormones, I had talked it through with Stephanie and we agreed to it for now.
“So you’re not convinced Danielle is all girl?”
“What did you think?”
“Quite presentable, in fact, could be quite attractive or pretty, some bits of boyishness show but they sometimes do in girls at that age, they’re not all as girly as you were, Cathy.”
“Was I that girly?” I asked.
“Mr Whitehead thought so, but then I did encourage you to camp it up a bit, didn’t I?”
“So it’s all your fault then. My girlfriend made me a transsexual.”
Siá¢n blushed, “No I did not, you were girly before I knew you.”
“So how would you know that, if you didn’t know me?”
“Your neighbour said it.”
“My neighbour, which one?”
“Mandy Simpkins.”
I had to think for a moment who that was. Then it came back to me. Mandy was a big lump of lard who I had to suffer right through junior school. She tried to bully me because she was bigger but I could outrun her easily, so it didn’t work. However, she went to the same nursery/playschool that I attended and she saw me play the Virgin Mary and wear the princess’s dress in the dress-up clothes we had at playschool. I always played with the dolls or the tea sets rather than the guns or cars. So I suppose it as a fair assumption, but not the assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary–that was something else.
“Did you know Mandy, then, they moved just after I went to high school?”
“Oh yes, she told me she lived next door to this girl who pretended she was a boy, or her parents did, she told me her name and I knew who it was.”
“So what did you tell her?”
“Nothing, it was none of her business and besides you were one of my girlfriends by then. She wasn’t.”
“Didn’t they go to Weston Super Mare?”
“I believe they did.”
“I was one of your girlfriends?”
“Well, of course, I wouldn’t have been seen dead with a boy now, would I?”
“Unless you were trying to play straight as I did. I told my dad you were my girlfriend and he swallowed it.” I remembered it quite well, he gave me a fiver to take her to the pictures–I bought some new brake cables instead.
She blushed, “Okay, I did pretend Charlie was my boyfriend. My dad believed it, my mother didn’t because she washed and pressed the spare uniform you borrowed, if you remember?”
“I remember okay,” I did too, it nearly blew me apart, the recognition that I should be wearing skirts and other girl stuff rather than boy stuff.
“I thought you might.” She smirked at me while Stella sat and watched and listened. “You never really told me what your parents thought about it.”
“About me borrowing your spare uniform?”
“Yeah.”
“Murray convinced my dad to send me to school in dresses because he was convinced it would embarrass my girlishness out of me. Dad agreed. When I continued to wear skirts or dresses out of school he wasn’t quite so happy but my mum was. She could see I was enjoying myself and while she wasn’t very happy about it, she thought I should be allowed to do it properly and bought me a nightdress as well as several pairs of panties and a couple of bras. I think she paid for some shoes too.”
“You said she taught you how to keep house?”
“She did, I did sewing and mending, she taught me about soft furnishings, how to cook a variety of meals and some baking. I learnt how to clean the place and how to do the washing–I had to hand wash my bra and pants every night.”
“And you didn’t get a thrill out of it?”
“What washing my own knickers?”
“No, dressing up like a girl?”
“Why should I? It felt natural as if it was meant to be but somehow no one else saw it.”
“It was meant to be,” said Stella, “I saw you the day you fell off your bike...”
“You knocked me off it, you mean.”
“...when you fell off your bike, you had narrow shoulders and waist and girly hips–not huge ones, but bigger than the average bloke–that was when I really thought you were a girl and then I saw your dangly bit and thought, yeah, you’re a girl all right.”
I blushed and she sniggered.
“So to our Nurse specialist in GUM, Cathy had just an oversized clit, then?” asked Siá¢n.
“Who said it was oversized?” riposted Stella and the two of them fell about laughing while I blushed furiously.
Comments
I don't usually comment
because I don't know what to say. I do love the story Ang, keep up the good work. You have a way of putting some real cliffhanger chapters in the mix, and the way you reflect back on past stories as well as current events keeps me interested in reading.
Thanks hugs
Jackie
memories
This episode brings back memories of my own childhood journey being completely girly, but in the wrong body, It was tough but my journey has taken me to full womanhood in the end. always looking forward to the next episode.
Hug's Carla Bay
ROO
(No subject)
Still concerned about Danni
Kind of expected Cathy to have a boy in her family. Keep things interesting.
....but the direction doesn't seem to be that path. Oh well.
Good to see the old friends staying friends. Love Stella's part.
Also liked Cathy's statement about, “Why should I? It felt natural, as if it was meant to be but somehow no one else saw it.†She always knew who and what she was.
I had an oversize clit too
A shame I spent so many years trying to make the mind fit the body.
S.
Oh, myyy
The conversations people have in that house! Simply amazing.
Dann*'s still an enigma.
Sad Cathy's having to deal with so many kids pushing boundaries, at the same time. One is more than enough for most of us!
Thanks,
Annette (who's caught back up after a week in Michigan)
How do you say thanks
Without becoming repetative or being perceived as fawning. I have purposely restrained my comments & observations so that they do not become shallow or thoughtless. When this adventure started I had no idea you had so much endurance. I must tell you that my day is not complete without reading your latest instalment. However, you have asked this question before so maybe your endurance is wearing thin. If it is, my only comment is Thank you, thank you. I had hoped to see Mims grow up, but this particular universe as its creator, is yours to control. I have seen first hand the evolution of British English as opposed to the Canadian useage. (Some interesting anthropology) Thanks for this episode & all that came before. God Bless! Remember your sanity & life come first. Love Brian
I ask the question
about every hundred episodes because I like to be assured that enough people are still reading it and enjoying it to make it worth the effort of writing it. I find it interesting that as soon as I blog about the future of Bike, I get more comments than I do on the actual story.
Angharad
Of course you do Ang.
The trouble is that many readers are too shy, or too 'tongue-tied' or too 'self-conscious' or sometimes just too damned selfish to write comment.
Comments are what writers really like to see and read for it not only offers a personal interaction but it tells the writer that the commenter has definitely read the passage. Ticking the 'good story' box is okay in it's way but a comment is far more rewarding to the writer.
When as I sometimes see only a few people have commented on a particular episode of 'Bike' I get a bit upset because I understand how much effort goes in.
Even if somebody has little to say about a particular episode a simple 'than-you' will suffice, so;
Once again,
thank-you Ang.
Bevs.
Well you have
to say that Danni is nothing but persistent, Drawing a blank with her mother , She decided to try Sian to see if she could gain an ally .... Maybe if Cathy had not been there she might have managed it, Trouble is even if she had succeded she would still have to ask her mother for them and you do not need to be Nostradamus to know what Cathys answer would be...
Kirri