The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3400 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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That night, the one where Tom had comforted me and reassured me that I was female enough for Simon I went to bed, the same bed my man had lain in, but hadn't made a move on me, which was so unlike him. If he and I get to bed at the same time, he nearly always tries it on - he didn't last night and I didn't know why. Not being a bio woman, I dread that because I can't give him children, he'll eventually dump me for a 'real' woman. It is the only thing I fear for in my life, losing the person I love more than anyone. I know I have threatened him with leaving him and taking our children off with me, or throwing him out of the family home and it nearly happened a few times a few years ago, but we patched it up with help from Stella or Stephanie or Tom and even involved his parents, who seem to love our kids as well as they do Stella's, who are their natural granddaughters.

I am a very lucky woman, I am married to one of the nicest families in the UK, it is also one of the richest, not that I need money. I have enough squirreled away, that were I to find myself out of work, I could live quite comfortably for many years and my pension will be okay as well. I have loads of kids that I love and who love me and I have an adopted father, who is second to none, including my birth father. So I should be the happiest woman in the world and I do consider myself a woman and female as much as I can. Not being a biological female, I can't claim to know how they feel about things, periods or pregnancies and suchlike, but I have a good idea what they feel even if I haven't experienced it myself.

Radical feminists argue that we haven't had the same level of discrimination as they have; I think we have, possibly worse and some like me who suffered abuse from my father and headmaster and umpteen years of bullying by boys who thought I was gay because I was a feminine boy and wore my hair long and looked after it like a girl. My mother had told me if I had hair like a girl then I should treat it like a girl and she made sure I complied.

If she had lived I think she'd have finally come to understand me. Even my Dad did when he had the strokes which virtually paralysed him, but I was never sure if he came around to seeing me as his daughter because he needed to, or if he genuinely did. What I do know is that Tom my adopted father, who had experience of a transsexual daughter, a pig-headed one (no change there) had no problems in dealing with another, and he didn't tell me until he had shown me unconditional love and coped with my, at times, irrational behaviour, which I considered to be like premenstrual syndrome (or self-delusion) because it seemed to happen in an almost monthly cycle, observed by Stella, who knew all about it having suffered her own share of them.

I was worried about Danni being the other side of the world all on her own, I knew she'd cope but it didn't stop me worrying, it's what mums do, even if she wasn't my natural daughter. In fact, I reflected on her entrance to femaleness, traumatic as it was, and how she'd been saved by her strong will and her love of football. Her reward was a possible place in a World Cup, which probably wouldn't have happened as boy - although it may be considered she paid a huge price for it and that we had to fight for her right to play women's sport. It was a tribute to her fighting spirit that she had so far succeeded in it despite unwarranted and arguably prurient intrusion by the tabloids.

I tossed and turned. Australian tabloids are worse than ours, and Rupert Murdoch owns most of them, plus they were not pleased when England dumped them from the World Cup, with one of the goals being scored by Danni. The team were supposed to be aware of her history and promised to be supportive, they had to be as they may want her for the final. But I still worried and wanted to hold and hug her and protect her. I know Simon and Tom felt the same. I wanted to go with her and so did Simon but we had ties here we couldn't leave. I felt so guilty.

I tossed and turned some more, then reminded myself of my own inadequacies with Simon and shed a few tears as I fell asleep. I dreamt first that I had asked the goddess to help me give Simon what would make him happy with me. If only I could give him a baby.

I was pregnant and as soon as it became obvious, I was pestered by the press because it wasn't possible, was it and I must have had a foetus implanted. Again I asked the goddess for help. She appeared and I saw that she was annoyed with me. "You realise the baby will die because you haven't got a pelvic structure to support it and they have to perform a Caesarian to remove the body."

"How can you let a baby die?"

"Quite easily; you asked to become pregnant, I granted that request, unreasonable as it was. I hoped you might learn something from it. Seems not."

"My baby, how can you let it die?"

"You asked for something which is impossible. You have no ovaries, and your vagina doesn't lead to a womb, but I did it for you and you promised me the earth, which you will to get me to save the child. Sorry, but I won't. If Simon wanted his own child so badly why didn't he just have sex with a biological female? You could always adopt it, you're good at that. "

"I hate you."

"Because I won't let you have your own way?"

"Because ... you have the nerve to tell me I'm not a proper woman, yet you who call yourself female, will let a baby die."

"Millions of women have abortions every year. Life is cheap; get used to it or see if I care."

I was seized by this awful abdominal pain, which shot through me, it was awful, I'd never experienced such pain before, I screamed for help, pleaded with her to help. "I can't, it's the baby dying, don't leave it too long before you get to hospital or you'll be dying too. Bye," and she disappeared. I was left screaming in pain as I prepared to die with my baby, my attempted gift for Simon having proved a deadly one, and I felt ashamed for the baby who I'd selfishly sacrificed for me to feel loved.

I was still rolling in pain when I felt some tugging at my arm, "Wake up you stupid bitch, you're having a bad dream," shouted Stella and she shook my arm.

"My baby, it's dead, she let it die," I wept to Stella who hugged me.

"What baby, you can't have babies, you haven't got the equipment, remember?"

"But the Shekinah, she allowed me to get pregnant so I could give Simon our own child."

"I don't think even she could do that, and what about all the other children you have, how are they going to feel? And Simon has said more than once he doesn't need any more children, as those you have cost him plenty now, and he loves them all as much as you do."

"So I'm not pregnant then?"

"No, it's impossible - I thought biologists knew about the birds and the bees?"

We hugged and eventually ended up in the kitchen drinking tea.

"It was so real and I wanted it so badly, to make Simon want me instead of a biological woman."

"Oh, we're back to that are we? Look get this through your thick head, Simon loves you more than life itself, he loves the girls that you have adopted between you. He's not looking for anyone else, in fact, he considers himself lucky to have you, and knowing how inept he was with other women before you came along, I think I can see why."

"Oh, so you don't think he considers me inadequate as a woman?"

"Cathy, for goodness sake stop this 'woe is me' stuff; he loves you to bits and just because you can't have babies doesn't stop you being female. Nobody doubts it and they all accept you as one, why can't you?"

"I don't know, I'm so afraid of losing him."

"He isn't going anywhere and I think he's equally scared of losing you because he thinks you're too good for him, you know that he's told you often enough. Come on, let's go back to bed." She led me into my bedroom and snuggled up in bed with me, "Right, if I sleep with you and promise to keep naughty goddesses away will you go back to sleep?" She hugged me and I felt a complete fool, but she is my big sister so she knows best - occasionally.

The girls got me up the next morning and my lack of sleep showed and I pottered about like someone with a hangover. If only it had been so, a few pills and I'd have felt better. Instead I felt like a zombie; even a shower didn't do much for my feelings of tiredness and inadequacy, then mid-morning Simon called. My spirits rose and gloom and tiredness just disappeared. His master's voice calmed me, he told me he loved me and how much he missed me, warning me to get my insurance up-to-date and get my fanny made fireproof because next weekend he was going to shag me until I glowed red hot. I suspected that his p.a. wasn't about at that moment, she'd have teased him about it for days.

After he rang off the doorbell rang and I received a huge bouquet of flowers. I had to acknowledge that he knew how to make a girl feel good about herself and about his love for her. I was almost willing to bet that Stella had spoken to him, after my little episode last night. Good old Stella, when she's well she is absolutely the best sister I could have ever wanted. She's been well for months now, with just the occasional down day, when I try to cheer her up. Thankfully, they happen less frequently these days, but she did suffer at the hands of those barbarians and reports of ill treatment and even torture of Ukrainian troops by Russians reminded me of how hard they could be as they had proved in my encounters with them. However, I try not to think negative thoughts because not all Russians are like that, they are ordinary people like us. Only Putin's cadre are nasty, as he is himself.

Trish got to arrange my flowers with the younger girls helping her, they seemed to enjoy it and I enjoyed the size of the bouquet; only a rich man could have sent it. My spirits soared when Danni phoned from Oz, she was so excited, even though she didn't know if she'd get to play. I reminded her that the Spanish were tough opposition. "What tough opposition, how about the Aussies on their home turf, how hard is that?" She had a point and as her sisters wanted to talk to her I said my goodbyes and handed the phone to the girls who were just as bubbly as their sister. Sunday was going to be a nightmare, they'll all be like unexploded ordnance, especially their dad and my dad. Oh boy, I just hope they win.

Then I thought about it and decided that every one of them should know about loss, because for them to win, Spain have to lose and if they do they will be inconsolable. It is arguably the largest prize in women's soccer, to win a World Cup final and if it slips from their grasp, they will be devastated for a while. But we need to remind ourselves that it is just a game. That is the reality. Life goes on, win or lose, and it's true that life may be easier for the winners and the offers they will receive, the reality is that it may enhance women's sport - despite the fact that many sports are refusing to see transwomen as female unless they haven't had a male puberty. Even including chess. This despite scientific evidence that no difference has been found between male and female brains (proportional to size, where men have bigger brains because they have bigger bodies, which physiologically need slightly bigger brains. It has nothing to do with having more intelligence or better spatial awareness. Men are just as disturbed by crying infants as women are; culturally, women tend to react faster because they are expected to, and most of the perceived differences are cultural.).