Easy As Falling Off a Bike pt 3288

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The Weekly Dormouse.
(aka Bike, est. 2007)
Part 3288
by Angharad

Copyright© 2021 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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274 dozen for dodecaphiles.

Simon's thighs were quite red when we went to bed so I administered some moisturising cream, the sort used to treat nappy rash and he oohed and aahed as I did it, I was gentle but I think he wanted to make a point that I had caused his dreadful injury (his acting was worse by far), so I had to suffer as well.

Of course creaming his inner thighs meant my hand occasionally brushed against Mr Happy which became aroused. "Pity you're in so much pain, hubby-dear, little Simon fancies his chances, will you tell him he's wasting his time, or shall I?"

"I expect, I could manage to ignore the pain for a short while if you wish me to make love to you," he said and I think he was wincing but it could have been wind.

"Oh, dearest husband, I couldn't live with myself if I caused you any further injury..." two can play at hamming it up.

"Actually, it feels a little better since you put the cream on it, yes, it feels easier, so in the words of the prophet, gerrumoff," he pulled me down on the bed and kissed me. One thing led to another and a little later he was fast asleep and I was nipping out to the bathroom to have a wee and a wash, chucking my knickers in the laundry basket as I'd used them to prevent leakage onto the bed. I know TMI, I was bit tender in places poked, but once I'd popped some clean knickers on with a panty pad and slipped into my nightdress, it wasn't too bad.

Sleep came remarkably quickly, I seemed to close my eyes and go off almost immediately perhaps helped by the fact that Simon had managed to touch my G spot and I had a very satisfying orgasm which cleared up much of the tension I'd been holding for the previous few days.
I was walking to school and I was aware of my long hair tapping against my back. I'd been at Siân's house last night, she was stuck on a piece of homework and phoned me for help. So I went over to do what I could. It was chemistry, not my strongest subject I got by and I was quickly able to help her sort her problem.

We were sitting in her bedroom talking, like two teenage girls, her parents seemed to see me as one anyway, and before long she was shaping and painting my finger nails with a very light pink varnish. I protested but she carried on all the same. Next while they were drying, she brushed out my hair and put it into one long plait, which reached halfway down my back and which was held with elastics at the top, middle and bottom. Finally she put some stuff on my almost invisible blond eyelashes, then half an hour later cleaned it off. "That looks better," she said.

"What was it," I asked being too lazy to stand up and look in her mirror.

"Eyelash conditioner, it gives them a little stronger colour."

"Oh, I'd better wash it off when I get home before my dad sees it."

"It doesn't wash off, it fades over the next few weeks." She said this as if it was of no consequence. Then she pulled out my ear studs and put in two bright red poppies which were a probably a couple of centimetres in diameter. I was trying to protest when she dabbed my lips with a red lip gloss. "There that looks a bit better, you can keep it, as I bought it for you anyway." She dumped the lip gloss in my hand and then handed me my ear studs. I dare you to wear the ear studs to school tomorrow."

"Why? It says you are allowed to wear one pair of earrings provided they don't dangle and risk catching them on equipment or clothing."

"I don't know, Murray is always looking to expel me, he could see this as provocation."

I stood up and looked at the earrings, they were lovely but hardly suitable for a boy to wear, my zirconium stars, the ones I held in my hand were pretty girly as it was, but quite small and thus discreet. That could hardly be said for my new poppies. Then I saw my eyelashes, top and bottom lashes looked like I was wearing mascara and with the lip gloss made me look like a girl - I mean I looked like a girl at the best of times, but this looked like someone wearing makeup, which I suppose I was.

"I hope this stuff comes off my eyelashes," I said peering more closely in the mirror.

"I told you, it fades over the next few weeks."

"What? They'll kill me."

"Just act girly and no one will come near you."

"Except to insult, abuse or beat me up, you mean?"

"They won't will they?"

"Yeah, and that's just my dad."

"Oh, sorrrreee, I didn't think. Look try some of my makeup remover," she handed me the bottle and some cotton pads. I scrubbed at my eyes until they felt a bit sore and when I looked, my eyelashes were still very dark. She showed me the pack, it was black eyelash dye with conditioner - wonderful.

I rushed back home hoping to avoid my father but ran straight into my mother. "Been playing Charlotte, have we? You'd better get that makeup off before your dad sees it."

I grimaced, "That might be a problem..."

Shaking her head at me she said, "You'll have to go to school tomorrow but if they say anything, tell them to call me and I'll tell them you were messing about with your girlfriend and she got carried away."

"Thanks, Mum."

"Your hair looks nice, for a girl," she added the second bit as I smiled and slipped past her to go to my bedroom. Once there I assessed my naked body in the mirror. Beneath my girlish hair and face my very slim body bulged very slightly at my breasts but not enough to show through clothing, and my narrow waist and spreading hips looked quite female. No wonder trousers were such a problem until I bought girl's ones, black uniform ones, which the girls wore in the sixth form or in bad weather.

I managed to avoid Dad at breakfast and I despaired about the eyelash dye as my lashes still looked as if I'd used mascara. Thankfully, the lip gloss wiped off. I decided to go as late as I could to try and avoid confrontations. However, I walked straight into Murray who took one look at me and exploded.

"What is the meaning of this, Watts?"

"What, sir?"

"Wearing makeup, you little queer. Go and wipe it off this instant."

"I can't, sir, it won't wipe off." I had changed the earrings back to my studs and he sneered at them as they were more visible with my plaited hair.

"You are a disgrace to this school, walking about looking like a male whore. If you're going to look like a bloody girl, go and change into the girl's uniform and see me when you return. Go," he pointed at the door and feeling about half an inch tall I trudged home.

"I thought I told you to get them to call me to explain," said my mother. "Here, make a cuppa and I'll speak to Mr Murray." She went off to ring the school and I walked into the kitchen feeling like poo warmed up.

I heard her trying to reason with the sociopath who reigned over my school like a mediaeval monarch. "But, Mr Murray, it was a bit of fun which went wrong, his girlfriend didn't realise it was permanent...very well, I'll send him back when he's changed."

"Waste of time?" I asked handing her a cup of tea.

"He insisted if you look like a girl you wear the girl's uniform, until the eyelash dye fades."

"But that could be weeks, Mum," I nearly dropped my mug.

"I'll speak to my salon a bit later to see if there's anything they can do to hurry it, I'd better get another blouse, run along and change, there's a good girl and, Charlotte, wait until I see that little Welsh madam."

"It was an accident, Mum, she didn't mean to cause trouble."

"She should have known that eyelash dye doesn't wash off."

I shrugged and went up to my room and pulled out the required uniform from my wardrobe. It was a few months since I'd worn it, I hoped it still fitted. "Wear a white bra and camisole as well," called my mother from downstairs. Ten minutes or so later I emerged from my room, wearing the girl's uniform and opaque black tights. I added some clear lip gloss and a coat of mascara and a silver bracelet and put my makeup bag into my Care Bears backpack. My mother shook her head, "You look too natural in that, perhaps we should see someone," she pecked me on the cheek and I trudged back to school ready for another day of abuse and teasing. Murray had announced that Miss Watts would be visiting for an indefinite period and was to be shown every courtesy - the code word for abuse, but don't get caught, and the bullies licked their lips in anticipation.

It was at this point I apparently woke up sobbing.

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Comments

damn you woman!

Maddy Bell's picture

you just can't help yourself can you? reeling us in for lime after line only pop the bubble at the last, you little Welsh madam!


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Madeline Anafrid Bell

thank you!

kristin's picture

always nice to get my Cathy fix after a rough day. :) I wonder, did Cathy "remember" this as it happened...or as she wished it happed? I hope Mom was really this caring. If only she followed thru with the call. (but THEN...we would not had as much fun these last 8 years!! Thanks

kristyn nichols

Trauma

Robertlouis's picture

The trauma of Cathy’s teenage years will never leave her. Murray was a monster, with deep-seated sexual problems of his own.

☠️

Care Bears are back!

ChristopherH's picture

I kinda get a chuckle when I see the care bear reference. My 13 year old daughter had a tough time choosing between a small Care Bears backpack vs a Winnie the Pooh one.

As far as the bullying memories, I think Cathy’s memories are probably pretty close to how they happened. I know mine can go away, but they almost always come back in some form or another

Another Saturday treat as usual

Sian may be a friend

Wendy Jean's picture

but she was very thoughtless that day.

Oh My.

Do our dreams evolve over time, or remain as vignettes of the past. This one certainly had an effect on Cathy. I hope she can bounce back from her disturbed sleep.
Love to all.
Anne G.
P.S. This is my third attempt at leaving a comment. My screen keeps freezing and needs a reboot to get restarted. Grrr..

Homo Erectus

joannebarbarella's picture

That's Murray (or should it be Rectum?). We manage to appoint bullies to positions of power in every walk of life.

Headmaster Murray always reminds me

Julia Miller's picture

Of the bastard headmaster in Pink Floyd's The Wall. He seems to be just the sort of prick that they portrayed in their album and then their performance.