Blam!
For the third time that day I was pushed into the wall. Sigh, here we go again.
”Who do think you are? We don’t like trannys here! We told you to dress properly or else..!” followed by two expertly placed punches in my midriff and, when I had slipped to the floor, by a couple of kicks.
I couldn’t help myself admiring the shapely bare legs that delivered the kicks. No, it wasn’t a footballer or wrestler that delivered my usual afternoon beating. Here bare legs meant a girl. All the boys wore trousers. All the girls, and I mean absolutely all the girls, wore skirts or dresses. While there was no formal dress code the group pressure was enormous. And since my fellow student and teachers had decided that I didn’t comply … The sad thing was that I really was dressing as who I am. No crossdressing. No amount of paperwork brought from Norway could persuade them otherwise.
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