Princess For Hire - The British Kid pt 1
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Melanie invited me to write an episode of one of my favourite series, this is it. I’ll probably add a second part if there’s enough interest. I hope I’ve repaid the trust she had in my using her characters.
The British Kid Part 1 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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The walls of Kingston Academy hove into view as Tim Burton, Flight Lieutenant Tim Burton, RAF drove his hired Ford towards the gate. Beside him was his son, Paul, who was still sulking.
“Look, when I get some leave I’ll take you to see Disney Land.”
“You said we could go before you went to your rotten base.”
“I’m sorry kiddo, they changed my orders.”
“So I’ve got to go to boarding school with a load of Americans.”
“This is America after all, Paul, so you can expect there to be one or two there.”
“Huh,” the boy huffed, “It’ll be full of them–they can’t even speak English properly. That man on the hot-dog stand, I couldn’t understand half of what he said, Dad.”
“He only asked if you wanted tomato sauce on your sausage?”
“Did he? Coulda fooled me, he said something about potatoes.”
“No, son, he said tomatoes–but the Yanks pronounce it the same as potatoes. Anyway, here we are.” He steered the blue Ford sedan into the driveway and was impressed by the size of the grounds–he was sure he’d served on smaller bases than this appeared to be.
“Crikey,” commented Paul, “I hope I can get myself a bike, or they have a bus service–this is an awfully long way to walk.”
They parked in the small car park behind one part of the school and walked towards reception. Tim had offered to wear his uniform for the trip, but Paul had said, no, the stupid Yanks would probably think he was an admiral or something. So they arrived with Tim in smart casual–a polo shirt and jeans, with Paul wearing a tee shirt and jeans.
Paul was small and thin, an atypical Klinefelter’s syndrome child–he wasn’t really sure what that meant except he knew he had an extra X-chromosome to other boys, and it also meant he had small puffy breasts and very small testicles.
He had a morbid fear of needles–hypodermic needles–having seen his mother sectioned under the Mental Health Act, when he was four years old. She subsequently committed suicide by hanging herself from a door handle with her bra strap. Paul’s grandparents had never forgiven Tim for having her committed, but her severe bipolar disorder had meant he felt she was at risk of an attempt to kill herself as she had tried before. Tim was trying to help her, believing the right treatment would stabilise her, unfortunately it wasn't to be.
Subsequently, when the bitterness set in, Tim blocked their access to Paul, and while his RAF career took off–he was a graduate entrant with a degree in physics and maths–he placed Paul in a boarding school in England.
Paul had become quite withdrawn and depressed at the apparent loss of his surviving parent and at one point Tim worried if his son had inherited his mother’s illness–but apparently not.
Tim had been posted to various places around Europe, he was a natural pilot and flew large and small aircraft with great skill, particularly some of the inherently unstable ones which can only fly with computer assistance.
So when the USAF brought over a stealth bomber–the Northrop Grumman B 2 Spirit–to an air display at Cosford RAF base, Tim was fortunate to have a chance to co-pilot it with its American pilot. Within a short time he was flying it with the American acting as co-pilot. A month later, he was requested by the USAF to be sent to the States to train to fly the aircraft. He was really pleased–they were difficult things to control and it would be a real fillip to his career, to have that on his CV, especially when he went over to civilian aircraft to fly airbus and other jumbos.
He went to tell Paul the news and Paul was disgusted–now he really would be losing his other parent. Tim accepted the pressure his son placed on him and went to see his CO.
“I don’t think you understand the nature of the request, Burton, it’s not so much a request as a summons. The Yanks don’t let just anyone fly this stuff–so we don’t turn down the opportunity to get our chaps onto the programme.”
“But my son must come first, sir, he’s heartbroken to think he’s losing me as well as his mum.”
Knowing the history a little the CO, a kindly Squadron Leader, made the suggestion that brought them to the car park at Kingston Academy–“Why not take him with you?”
“Take him with me, sir? I can’t look after him and do this job.”
“Look, I’ll see if we can get some funding for him to attend a school over there, not too far from your base–if we place him as a boarder–it won’t be an ideal solution but at least you can get to see him now and again without crossing the ocean every time.”
“I don’t know, sir, he’s fairly settled where he is.”
“D’you want to fly the Northrop Grumman?”
“I’d love to, sir.”
“Go and convince him he’d like to go to see Uncle Sam with you. I’ll get on to the Air Ministry, see how much they have in the coffers.”
Because it had been a request from the USAF they agreed to part fund the boy’s schooling, and had even suggested Kingston Academy as being a good school with an excellent record albeit an idiosyncratic if not quirky approach to education.
When Tim saw the brochures he was impressed, in fact as much as he had been with the experience of the place. Paul was harder to convince–he didn’t want to have to play baseball or other sports where his small boobs would bounce about and get him ribbed by the other boys.
Tim had spoken to the headmaster by phone and explained his son’s problem, his hypogonadism and gynaecomastia, to Mr Uchiha, who had reassured him it wouldn’t be a problem and that some other form of exercise would be organised for Paul–possibly cycling or golf. He would speak to Paul personally and discuss the options. Tim was genuinely impressed.
Paul eventually agreed to go when he saw how much it meant to his father, and they’d gone to see a film and had a meal together to celebrate his assent. It was good old fashioned bribery, but neither was too worried.
Now three months later they were standing together outside the door to the headmaster’s study waiting to speak with him face to face.
In a short time, Paul was escorted off by some rather attractive girl–and he’d thought it was a boy’s school–while his dad signed a few papers and agreed the terms and conditions of his son’s stay there.
“This one is to allow him to take part in some of our experimental programmes.”
Tim looked up at the Asian-American gentleman standing beside him at a huge desk. “Experimental? How d’you mean, experimental?”
“Oh we do dietary experiments, social experiments, sport’s ones. In a recent one we discovered if the teams were supported by cheer leaders their success rate doubled. In a recent dietary one, we found that those boys who ate extra bananas fared better in cognitive testing–presumably something to do with potassium increase or some other thing, extra cucumber made them sleep better.”
“Just makes me fart,” said Tim blushing as he realised what he’d said.
“Me too,” agreed the headmaster easing his embarrassment. Tim signed everything.
“What about money? How much can I send him?”
“We prefer to have out boys earn their money, by doing chores round the school–picking litter, helping in the school farm and so on.”
“You pay them for being here?”
“Not quite, you pay us–or the US air force does, but the money we save by not having to employ extra staff, means we can share some of our savings with the boys.”
“What about the girl–I thought this was a boy’s school?”
“We find they act more like young men and less like Attila the Hun and his barbarian horde if they see a bit of femininity about the place–plus of course, we have need of cheer leaders for our teams. I take it you have no objections?”
“If it civilises the little darlings, I have no objections whatsoever–I mentioned Paul has Klinefelter’s–so he’s not likely to make anyone pregnant–so what the hell?”
After being shown his room, he had a single one next to this girl–he couldn’t believe his luck–he was taken back to say goodbye to his dad, who dashed back to the airport to fly to his base.
He couldn’t help the tears–the man had just come back into his life–and there he was gone again. Paul missed his friends, he had promised to email them when he had a chance.
Mr Uchiha, the headmaster, put his hand on his shoulder and said to Paul–we need to find another volunteer for one of our experimental programs–it takes a bit of guts to do it, but we do compensate you financially if you take part–and it would get you out of a few of the things I suspect you don’t like too much–like sport.”
“You actually pay me?” asked a surprised Paul.
“Yes, and better than if you work on the farm or gardens or in the cleaning squads.”
“Can’t say I fancy any of those–what’s this other programme, sir?”
“We call it the princess program.”
“What, I get to meet the girls you have here?”
“You will get to meet them all, and know them very well indeed, young Burton.”
“Okay–sign me up for it, it’s got to be better than mucking out cows.”
“I think I agree with you, Mr Burton. I’ll send for Becky Henderson to explain things to you in more detail, she like you was recruited on her first day because we thought she was most suitable–so far we haven’t been wrong.”
“Is that the girl, I met just now, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Kewl,” said Paul thinking he’d died and gone to heaven–and they pay me for it–who can’t have their cakes and eat ‘em?
Becky came and got Paul and they went back to his room, her leading him through the corridors, which he still found something of a warren. He’d tried to ask about this programme thing, but she’d hushed him and said she’d explain when they got back to his room. He shrugged and walked with her back to his room in the P wing.
Back in his room, she looked at her watch and told him they had an hour before dinner so he could ask her any questions he liked. He knew what he’d like to have asked her, but she was probably spoken for anyway. He had a bit of a surprise coming.
“What’s this Princess thing, and do they really give me money for taking part?”
“Oh they do more than give you money, they give you priority over passes to town, they provide you with clothes and lots of other things, too.”
“Kewl,” said Paul, “Better tell me about it then.”
“Better sit down then; it might take some time.”
She sat in his chair crossing what he considered to be quite elegant legs in the school uniform skirt and tights. “I’m one of the princesses,” she started, and he nodded–he could see that without being told. “They want you to become one too.”
He nodded then stopped. “Hang on, they want me to become a girl? I’m missing something here, aren’t I?”
“No you’re doing fine, that’s exactly what we want.”
“What is this some sort of weirdo place? You’ll be telling me you’re really a boy next.”
“I am, my real name is Daniel Henderson.”
“No,” Paul shook his head, “No you can’t be–this place is full of freaks–no.”
“Paul, please listen to me–no one is forcing you to do anything–okay?”
“Too right, they’re not.”
“Please, may I finish?” asked Becky.
Paul stood up wandered round the room looked hard at her and then sitting down, nodded for her to continue.
“It’s like this...” she explained how the program had been created and the benefits it had brought to the school, particularly the improvement in behaviour of most of the boys.
“But don’t they just see you as a boy in a skirt?”
“Did you?”
“No, but I didn’t know you before, did I?”
“True, but do I look like a boy in a skirt, now you know?”
Paul looked very hard, “No, I guess not–but that doesn’t mean I’m happy to do it.”
“No–but you have great potential–have you ever dressed up as a girl?”
“No way, I’m not some saddo.” After this outburst, he saw her frown, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, what’s my dad to think of me poncing round in a skirt.”
“Poncing? What does that mean?”
“Oh it means, mincing round like some sort of poofter.”
“A poofter–that’s British slang for a gay man, right?”
Paul gave her an old fashioned look as if to ask if she spoke English, then realised the truth about Bernard Shaw’s remark about two nations divided by the same language.
“Yeah, I s’pose you’re one of those trans-wotsit types are you–or are you just gay?”
“Why are you?” she threw back at him.
“Don’t be stupid–I’m a normal hetero boy,” he stood up again.
“So why are you acting like a scaredy-cat girl?”
“I’m not.”
“What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he snapped blushing and she knew now that he was.”
“I think you are–not that it matters–look back to the prog. You have to dress as a girl once or twice a week–each day you do so, they pay you. You also have to attend certain things as a girl and do some training.”
“This is still weird.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought at first, but now I find it’s fun most of the time.”
“But don’t the others think you’re gay?”
“No, most of them think I’m a girl most of the time.”
“You going to get an operation?”
“I doubt it, but I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“You taking hormones and things?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you can’t if you want to.”
Paul caught slightly off guard by the shock of all this said, “I don’t need to, I’m growing tits without them.”
“You’re what?”
“I’ve got Klinefelter’s–but don’t tell anyone will you?”
“I won’t–what’s that?”
“It means I’ve got an extra X chromosome.”
“What like XXY?”
“Yeah, exactly that–so I’m hardly the most masculine of boys.”
“I’m sorry, maybe we shouldn’t have asked you to be on the program, but you just seemed to be a natural for it, small and feminine looking. Maybe this is a bad idea?”
Paul sat on his bed and felt the tears well up in his eyes, “I’m some sort of freak, I’m growing tits, and a fat arse–I wish I was dead like my mother.”
“Hey there,” Becky sat alongside him and put her arm round his shoulder and he leant into her crying, “No need to get upset, ya don’t have to do this unless ya want to.”
She rubbed his back as she spoke softly to him, feeling very embarrassed as she did so–why do they always give her the difficult ones–or does she do something wrong?”
Paul smelt her perfumed toiletries and her shampoo–she certainly smelt like a girl, and acted like one–why did she want him to do it too–that’s what he couldn’t work out–especially as he wasn’t at all sure about it.
“Why did you ask me on my first day?” he asked after blowing his nose.
“I wondered if you might be interested and the other thing was a bit of devilment. See, no one but me has seen you as a boy, so if you turn up looking like a girl–and I think you could very easily–some of them are going to think you are one–an’ I think that’s kinda funny.”
“But won’t they know?”
“Some of them think I’m one even when I’m in boy mode–which I haven’t done for a while–I suspect they’d think the same about you, you’re kinda cute you know, pretty even.”
“Gee thanks, that’s really made me feel better.”
“An’ you’ve never wore a skirt or makeup?”
“No–I’m a boy–why would I?”
“If I asked you real nice?”
He blushed. “Won’t the others beat me up–I mean, I’d never look as good as you do.”
She sensed his resolve was weakening.
“You’d look even better than me, because you’ve got a better shape than me, I’m straight up and down, you’ve got hips.”
“I’ve always hated my body–afraid for anyone to see it.”
“This could be a way to experiment while no one knows you–doesn’t that excite you? You could be a woman of mystery.”
That suggestion hit Paul on the funny bone and he smirked.
“See, you could enjoy it couldn’t ya?”
He chuckled and nodded.
“Wait here, I’ll go get a few things,” he was still chuckling when he realised she’d left him–then he began to panic–what had he agreed to, were they all as crazy as her? Were they all screaming poofters?
She rushed back ten minutes later with a suitcase and a smaller case. “Here put these on, I think they’ll fit.” She handed him a bundle of clothes from the case. “Now, we don’t have all day, if you wanna eat.” She then as good as threw him into the bathroom.
He stood in there holding the bundle unable to move. She waited a couple of minutes before asking, “How ya doin’?”
He stood there paralysed with fear and shaking with something he couldn’t explain–but it wasn’t fear.
When she didn’t get an answer, she knocked and opened the bathroom door and frowned at him. “C’mon now, we don’t have all day, get undressed and put those on–hurry.”
He stayed rooted to the spot. She looked perplexed–no one had done this before–they’d refused, thrown the clothes at her and stormed out and variations on the negative theme–or dressed in the girl’s stuff she’d given him. No one had just frozen–but then–no one was quite as female looking as he was in terms of body shape.
“D’ya need some help?”
He looked at her and nodded.
Ten minutes later, his boy clothes were laid on his bed and he was standing wearing a skirt, blouse and cardigan over a pair of panties, tights and camisole–which his budding breasts pushed out slightly but enough to show through the blouse and cardigan.
Somehow, she played with his shaggy boy’s hair cut and he looked like a short haired girl. When she put just a touch of mascara on his dark lashes and a hint of lip gloss on his mouth–Paul had disappeared and he gasped.
He stood his mouth agape looking at this spectre in the mirror, one which had always seemed like it was waiting to spring out and consume his struggling masculinity. He knew he should have been afraid but somewhere inside he actually liked it–somehow things made a strange sort of sense to him, except he knew it didn’t–not logically.
“See, told ya,” beamed Becky proud of her skills in transforming the boy into a girl creature. When he didn’t respond, just stared into the mirror, she demanded, “Well, waddya think?”
“I–I–I look like a girl.”
“Doh,” said Becky–“Didn’t you hear anything I said?”
Paul simply shrugged.
“C’mon, Pauline, we need to get down soon or the food’ll be gone, I could eat a horse–well, a whole leg anyway.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of his room into the corridor.
He turned hearing the door click locked behind him–“What’re you doing?” he asked aware his bolt hole had just shut and locked.
“Don’t worry–we can get in through my room–keep walkin’ the refectory is a way off yet.”
For those who'd like to refresh themselves with the originals:
http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/book/19983/princess-hire
Princess For Hire - The British Kid 2
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The British Kid Part 2 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved. |
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“Nooo, I can’t go out like this,” protested Paul.
“Why not? Ya look fine to me,” Becky urged and pulled her diminutive companion along.
“But they’ll know I’m not a girl.”
“That’s up to you, Pauline.”
“What d’you mean, up to me?”
Becky stopped, “First off, stop acting like a baby and start being a thirteen year old girl.”
“How do I do that? I don’t even know any thirteen year old girls.”
“Neither will they, just be cute, shy and blush loads–then make it up like you want.”
Paul looked at her, she looked so confident and poised, whereas he felt like bursting into tears.
“C’mon, or doncha wanna eat tonight?”
“I don’t think I feel very hungry, actually.” He had before his sudden transition to girlhood.
“Look, they don’ know you’re a boy, okay–an’ I’m not gonna tell ‘em. All I’m gonna say is you’re English, okay? ’S up to you what you tell ‘em? Personally, I’d prefer you kept up the prank–d’ya Brits use, prank?
“You mean a floorboard in a Chinese takeaway?” Paul fired back–it wasn’t a new joke but it stopped him having to think.
“Ya what?” Becky stopped frowned then sniggered–“Hey, that’s pretty good for an English rose–even if she is a mite prickly. C’mon, I’m dyin’ of hunger, already.”
“I dunno, this doesn’t sound like a good idea to me–oh poo.” They had continued walking during their discussion and Becky drew open one side of a double door and suddenly, they were both in the cafeteria. Paul hadn’t felt less like eating since he’d had measles when he was six years old.
Paul felt physically sick as he held on to her hand and followed meekly behind her, all the fight had temporarily died in him; now it was a question of survival and that looked as if it depended upon Pauline being a convincing girl. Just how on earth do you do that–suddenly become the opposite sex?
Becky led him over to a table where there were two other girls sitting, one was still eating the other was filing her nails with an emery board.
“Hi everyone,” said Becky to the other girls–who Paul assumed were really boys–but the one was really girl looking, the other was okay and had he not known, he wouldn’t have given her a second glance.
“This is Pauline, who is a British girl, all the way from Britain, England.”
“I thought England was part of Britain,” replied the really authentic looking girl.
“Why, waddit I say?” asked Becky blushing and lifting her unoccupied hand up to her mouth, which Paul thought looked very feminine.
“You said the other way round,” commented the second girl whose voice was a breaking a little but still sounded girlish.
“Gee, I’m a total klutz,” Becky blushed, “I was just so excited that we had a English girl to show us how t’ talk British.”
“How now brown cow,” said the pretty girl in a mock English accent which made Paul cringe. It wasn’t the clothes which felt so much alien as the body inside them–he had a sudden sense of camaraderie with ET.
“Well, klutz, are you gonna intra’duce us or what?” asked the second girl addressing Becky.
“Geez–I’m f’gettin’ my manners as well as my geography. This here is Pauline, who is from England–where in England?” she asked Paul.
Paul who was now absent from the body she was holding, watched from above as his mouth, complete with lip gloss said, “Little Ferret under Stoat, in Somerset.” He was horrified and blushed–he came from just outside Taunton, but the village wasn’t called anything like that–he’d just made it up and had no idea why.
“Li’l Ferret unner where?” asked Becky.
“Under Stoat, the original owner of the castle was very into catching rabbits–back in Norman times.”
“You have a castle near your home?” asked the pretty girl.
“Two actually,” said Paul becoming aware that others were coming closer to hear what he had to say–which never happened back in England.
“Two?” gasped the pretty girl, “I’ve never seen a genuine English castle.”
“You English?” asked a definite male voice behind him.
“She sure is, a genuine English rose–all the way from England.” Becky started her spiel again.
“Geez,” said the boy, “First we have weirdos now we have English, the place is really goin’ to the dawgs.”
Paul had long since vacated his body but the demon-ess which had slipped in had brought a sense of indignation with her and she turned and looked contemptuously at the boy who was at least half as big again as she was.
“Excuse me, but what’s wrong with being an English girl–except to be in the company of an ignorant barbarian like yourself.” Her accent got even more English and pronounced, as she snapped indignantly at her adversary.
He was momentarily silent, wondering about the spitfire in front of him, was she really a girl, she could be–her tits–such as they were jiggled as she scorned him. Her accent sure was different from any he’d heard except on TV or the movies.
“Nothin’ I guess if you are English and a girl–that’s all.”
“I happen to be both–sadly you seem unable to differentiate either.” The last word was deliberately pronounced eye-ther, as an educated Brit may well say, compared to the American pronunciation of ee-ther.
“C’mon, Zack, leave little Miss Fauntleroy to play with the other girlies, let’s go shoot some hoops.” The affronted boy allowed his companion to lead him away from the snarling lioness and her smirking supporters.
“Wow,” said Becky, “You just mauled the quarter back from our football team, real good.”
“Quarter back–there is no quarter back in football, there’s forwards, backs, wings and a goal keeper.”
“Nah, that’s soccer–we’re talking football.”
“Soccer is football, I ought to know, we invented the game even if we can’t play it–the same with cricket, rugby, baseball, rowing...”
“Hey you didn’t invent baseball, that’s a American game.”
“Actually it wasn’t originally, and was invented because some people found cricket too hard to understand or didn’t have access to a pitch to play it. It’s not terribly popular in England these days, but it is played there. Girls–we–tend to play a variation called rounders.”
“You really are British, aren’t you?” asked a boy who came and stood close to Becky.
“Andrew, this is Pauline Burton, all the way from a strangled ferret in Somewhereset, England.”
“Hi,” said the tall boy, who towered over Pauline.
“Hello, Andrew.”
“Oh, an’ the ugly sisters,” said Becky sniggering, “that’s Sarah and that’s Dawn.”
“How d’you do,” Pauline nodded at the two princesses.
“So if you’re all princesses, is this one a queen?” asked Andrew unaware of the status of the newcomer.
“Oh definitely,” smiled Becky–“A genuine English one.”
“No, not a queen, just a lady in waiting,” retorted Pauline, bobbing to him.
“Lady Pauline,” he said giving an exaggerated bow to the newcomer, “welcome to our humble abode.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied bobbing again.
“Wow,” said Dawn, “Lady Pauline, do come and park your blue blooded ass, here with us peasants.”
“May we find some comestibles first–I’m famished,” Pauline said back feeling a rumble in her tummy.
“Don’t think we’ve got any o’those, but the beef’s pretty good if ya like pepper sauce,” suggested Dawn.
“I’ll ask my secretary to show me, if you’d be so good, Becky my dear.” Pauline camped it up as Becky almost helpless with laughter led her to the food.
They spent an hour eating and talking with the others before Becky led her back to her room. Back inside Paul leant against the door and nearly collapsed.
“You did real good,” said Becky.
“Oh yeah, upset the captain of your football team.”
“He’s not the captain, but he is their star player.”
“Why was he so rude?”
“He doesn’t like us princesses–though he does like us cheering when they play at home.”
“You do cheerleading?”
“Yeah–course–why wanna learn?”
“No thanks, I’ve got myself in the doo doo deep enough already.”
“No ya haven’t–they’re all convinced you’re a girl, including Sarah and she would normally spot a fake a mile away.”
“You’re joking?”
“No I’m not–she’s gender variant herself.”
“She’s what?”
“She’s gonna become a girl for real–the operation and so on.”
Paul nodded, from her appearance he could believe that, but then Becky looked just as real, “So are you gonna be a girl as well?” he asked her.
“For another year or two maybe, when I leave here, I’ll see,” Becky shrugged.
“I didn’t know until you told me, and even though I knew, I couldn’t see any boy showing.”
“Thanks, Sarah’s been coaching me, we’re the only two who live full time as girls, the others just do it to meet the program’s needs.”
“Talking of that–what am I going to do–you’ve told people I’m a girl–I have one set of clothes–I can’t wear them forever, they’ll need washing?”
“Oh, no prob we can find you some more school uniforms, what we need is some casual stuff too. Ellie-Mae is about your size, wait here, I’ll go see if she can loan ya some stuff.”
Becky disappeared and Paul stood in front of the mirror–his lip gloss had faded after eating, but he still looked like a girl. He’d known he wasn’t very masculine but he’d never seen this part of him–and where had the venom come from that he had spat at the football boy? Had he unleashed something that had been hidden inside him for a very long time. He shivered, it was like some sort of fantasy story.
He was nearly in some sort of trance when his mobile rang–he physically jumped. Then regaining his wits, he remembered where he’d left it and pulled it out from under the pile of clothes. It was his dad, his heart gave a little leap.
“Hi Dad,” he said his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and excitement.
“Hi, kiddo, how ya doin’?”
“I’m okay, just had dinner and I hope made some friends.”
“Great–I got here about an hour ago–it looks pretty intensive.”
“What does, Dad?”
“The training for the aircraft.”
“Yeah, I expect it is.”
“Look, son, it might be a couple or three months before I can get to see you again–is that alright?”
Paul felt a lump in his throat, “It’ll have to be, won’t it–it’s not as if it’s something new–is it?”
“I know you’re disappointed, son, but once the initial training is over, it should ease up a bit.”
Paul felt a tear run down his face, “I’ve gotta go, Dad.”
“Paul, don’t...” Paul switched off the call and sat on his bed looking at his phone tears running down his face and dripping into two wet spots on his skirt. He didn’t know what he felt–disappointment–sure, that was there, but it was almost a prerequisite with his dad. There was something else–he thought hard to identify it–yep, that’s what it was–relief. It bought him time to end the farce of pretending to be a girl, or what he’d say to his dad when they did meet up again, about why he was girlified.
“Hey, you okay, sister?” said Becky bustling back into the room, arms laden with bags and clothing.
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“You bin, cryin’?” Becky asked.
“My dad phoned.”
“Oh–and?”
“He’s going to be tied up for the next three months.”
“Oh,” she dumped the clothing at the foot of the bed and gave her charge a quick hug, “We’ll be here for you, Pauline.”
“Thank you,” said Paul, his bottom lip quivered and he burst into tears.
“If you’re going to cry, we’d best show you how to do your own makeup.”
“Oh, does it look a mess?” asked Paul and Becky pointed at the mirror.
Paul got up off the bed and looked in the mirror, “Oh Lord, I look like a panda.”
“A very pretty panda,” laughed Becky.
“If you say so.”
Becky showed him how to clean it off and reapply, a simple line of eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. She showed him how to stretch his eyelid to apply the eyeliner, and how to apply the mascara by wiggling it back and fore to make sure it gets every lash.
“Right tomorrow, you’ll need to do all this yourself and I’ll pop in before breakfast and do your hair.”
“Okay, I’ve got to stay as a girl, haven’t I?”
“You did imply you were one.”
“I think it was more than imply–I as good as stated I was one.”
“That’s probably my fault–I shoulda been honest with the others–that you were a princess like the rest of us–sorry.” Becky looked at the floor and blushed. “I am real sorry.”
“Yeah well, if they find out that’ll make us both liars won’t it?”
“I guess so, we’ll talk with Mr Uchiha tomorrow and get his advice–he’ll know what to do.”
“Will he be cross with us?” asked Paul feeling apprehensive.
“I’ve not seen him cross in the two years I’ve been here–he’s always kind and calm.”
“I hope so.”
“Anyways, I gotta go–I’ll be in tomorrow at seven thirty to do your hair. Try the clothes on and see what you think–they should fit.”
“What did you tell their owners? A real girl has come to the school without any clothes? A bit strange isn’t it?”
“I told them your luggage is on its way–we’ll get an advance from the school and get you some next week.”
“Oh boy–I’m going to be in debt before I start.”
“Don’t worry–Mr Uchiha will sort it all out tomorrow–oh, there’s a bra there, it might fit–see ya tomorrow.” She left via the bathroom connecting door and Paul looked at the clothes lying on the bottom of the bed.
By the time he’d tried everything on, including the bra–it was getting late. Most of it fitted, so Becky had a good eye for size. Some of the stuff felt more comfortable than others, and that went for the look as well–one or two things Paul thought were not his style at all. Then he laughed at himself–here he was a few hours into girlhood and talking about his style–or should that her style? He had no idea what his father would say when he found out–but he was unlikely to be happy.
He found a nightdress and pulled it on, it had pictures of kittens and puppies on it, but it felt soft and comfortable. He posed in front of the mirror and said out loud, “Hi Dad, meet your new daughter,” and he blew a kiss at his reflection. Then sat on the bed and felt very unsure about all of this–what had he got himself into–and was there a way out without making himself look stupid or upsetting too many others?
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Princess For Hire - The British Kid 3
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“I’ve been thinkin’,” Becky confided as she did Pauline’s hair.
“That sounds dangerous,” quipped Paul to his now favourite girlfriend.
“Now you hang on there, I’ll have you know I’m a straight A student.”
“I didn’t think you were bent, duckie,” said Paul in a camp way and Becky dissolved in laughter.
“You Brits are so funny.”
“Yeah, I know you only took independence because you couldn’t understand our jokes.”
“No–it wus ‘cos you wouldn’t let us pour the tea in before the milk.”
“Depends if you’re using bone china or not.”
“You mean there’s another form of china?” Becky pretended to look shocked.
“Yes, you use it here for meals–I think they call it ironstone so it can be dishwashed.”
“I was jokin’, Pauline.”
“Gosh–and I missed it.”
Becky glowered at him and he started to giggle–so did she. “You bring a breath of fresh air into this dusty ol’ dump, girl.”
“Yeah, just before they expel me for lying.”
“Nah, being economical with the truth.”
“Actuality.”
“What?”
“Being economical with the actuality, is the quote by Mr Clarke–it came up in an ethics lesson at my last school.”
“You did, ethics?” asked a surprised Becky.
“Yeah, it was easier than cheerleading.” Paul smirked then suddenly ran into the bathroom.
“Hey, you,” said Becky chasing after him. She caught him in the corridor outside.
“We’re going to have to tell the others, aren’t we?” he said to her.
“Just hold fire a moment, girl, we don’t do anything until we’ve spoken with Mr Uchiha–I’ll ask if we can see him at lunch if not before.”
“So what do I do until then?”
“Act like you’re a girl called Pauline Burton.”
“But won’t the teachers know?”
“Um–not necessarily,” Becky blushed.
“What did you do?”
“Well, I kinda made a small adjustment to your records on the computer.”
“You’re allowed near that sort of stuff?”
“Yeah, one of my duties is helping the school secretary with the mundane administration–like student registration records.”
“Won’t they shoot you when they realise?”
“I’ll come clean to the head when we go to see him.”
“Why did you do that–it’s an awful risk?”
“I figured it bought us a little time.”
“Won’t the Airforce query it when you bill them?”
“Hell no, they pay in advance for a P. Burton–they don’t do first names.”
“Um–how are we going to explain how a girl got sent to a boy’s school?”
“A mix up by the Airforce–they do this sort of thing all the time–they have a budget of billions of dollars and personnel force of thousands–mistakes happen–you’re one of them.”
“What am I going to tell my dad?”
“That–I don’t know, girl–but you have a few weeks to think of something.”
“Yeah–I guess.”
“C’mon, let’s go get some chow.”
“Do they do Italian, then?”
“What?”
“Ciao–it’s Italian for whatever they want it to be.”
“No chow–don’t you Brits speak English? C-H-O-W–chow.”
“Oh that chow–it’s a dog–if you’re telling me we have a dog for breakfast, I’m going on a diet of toast only.”
“Geez, Pauline–you’d make a saint swear.”
“Oh gosh, I did that years ago–now they just weep.”
“C’mon, if we don’t go now–it’ll be brunch.”
They dined with some of the other princesses although Paul facing down the larger football player had made its way round the grapevine within hours. So the princesses were the subject of more attention than usual from the other boys.
They’d just finished eating breakfast when Becky and Pauline were sent for by Mr Uchiha, so they made their way to his office. He bade them enter and it was immediately obvious that he was not best pleased.
“Personally, Becky, I’m disappointed in you–leading the others on with what is actually a deception.”
“Yes, sir.” Becky looked at her feet and her shiny black shoes.
“As for you, Pauline–I believe the records say your name is now–I’m surprised you went along with it. I’m pleased you joined the Princess program, because we needed a new face in that–but what a start to get off to?”
“I’m sorry you disapprove, sir, and I apologise for a deliberate deception of the others, however, you weren’t exactly straight with me, were you?”
“Oh, wasn’t I?”
“No, sir, you sent me off with Becky knowing I would think she was a girl until she told me herself. I didn’t do anything different to that.”
Uchiha was caught a little on the back foot. Normally he explained everything about the program to the individual student, but had experimented by using Becky this time, partly because he was sure Becky would achieve a result where he would have failed.
“I see,” said the headmaster, “I don’t think they’re quite the same, but I’d like your thoughts on how we deal with this deception?”
“We carry on, sir,” offered Becky.
“Is that possible?” he looked at her–clearly he didn’t think it was, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Not with just the two of us knowing, but perhaps if we include Sarah and Andrew it could be, and then you’d get some real interactions from the boys to a girl,” Becky had obviously thought about it.
“What if it gets out that Pauline is another boy?”
“Why should it? We’ll all keep shtum, and no one else should be in a position to tell. Pauline already has a more female shape than any of us except Sarah, she’s growing her own breasts; so why should anyone else know?”
“What about Mr Burton? How’s he going to react when he finds out what’s been going on–remember, only you and Sarah have opted to live as girls full time and your families are cognisant of it and generally supportive–Pauline’s father doesn’t know and may well be upset by finding everyone else thinks he has a daughter?”
“He won’t be here for three months–which gives us a chance to think of something–besides, if Pauline’s cover is blown, she can always revert to see him.”
“How do you know he won’t be here for three months?” asked the headmaster.
“My dad called last night and told me he didn’t think he’d be here for three months because he was so involved with the training programme to fly that silly bomber thing. He’s always put his career before me–I’m doing the same to him.”
The headmaster bade them sit down. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Pauline.”
“Dad has always put his career first, even when my mum died he only made a token effort to look after me before sending me off to schools–they did a better job than he did, and they weren’t exactly brilliant.
“Last night, something happened–I don’t know what it was–but normally when I get picked on by larger boys, I either run away or get beaten up–sometimes both. Last night, I felt more powerful as a girl than I’d ever done as a boy. If he’d thought I was a boy in a skirt, he’d have probably hit me or I’d have said nothing and let him bully me.”
“I see–that’s pretty deep stuff, I think we’ll need to get you seen by the school counsellor, so she’ll be another in on your little secret. I won’t tell the staff, I’ll let you do that.”
“Do what, sir?” asked Becky seeking clarification.
“I’ll let you tell the staff whatever you believe is going to be the most beneficial thing for Pauline. If you choose to maintain the deception that’s up to you, I won’t correct it but if things go wrong–then we’ll have to rethink things–such as suggesting Pauline is transgender like Sarah. However, people won’t be too pleased that you conned them.”
“So we don’t get caught, sir.” Pauline said smiling.
“This is going to put you under tremendous pressure, Pauline, do you realise this?” continued the head.
“I know, sir, but something in me changed last night and I’d like to explore it some more.”
“I think epiphanies are more the environment of psychotherapists and priests than headmasters, so I’ll make you an appointment with the counsellor–she’s off today, but tomorrow–we’ll leave hints that it’s about the loss of your mother–anyone here could understand that.”
“Fine, sir.”
“Becky, changing the records without speaking with me was a step too far for me to overlook it.”
“Yes, sir, I understand.”
“I appreciate why you did it, but these are legal documents and if anyone ever found out about it, there could be a load of trouble for the school and me personally.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think, sir.”
“I can’t let you off with just a reprimand.”
“It was my idea, sir, I asked her to do it,” said Pauline.
“Your attempt to save your friend is very noble but means that I have to punish you as well.”
Pauline snuck a peep at Becky who was looking very embarrassed and possibly even tearful.
“I need to make you understand the seriousness of this action, both of you.”
“Yes, sir,” they both said in unison and smirked despite their embarrassment.
“I’m going to fine you a week’s pay.”
“But, sir, Pauline needs to get lots more clothes, she’s borrowing from others at the moment.”
“I know, Becky, but I hadn’t finished. The school will make a grant for her to buy a certain number of items of clothing, underwear and so forth for school use and some casual clothes and footwear. We’ll also supply several school uniforms. We can arrange some clothing via the internet to tide her over, then allow you to buy locally perhaps next week or so.”
“Thank you, Mr Uchiha,” Pauline almost wanted to hug the man.
“I take it Becky and Sarah will help you choose the most suitable attire for evenings and weekends.”
“Oh yessir,” Becky beamed, “you bet we will.”
“I’m not a gambling man, Becky, but if I were I’d just have collected on my stake.” He signed two notes, one for each girl. “Give these to your teachers and my apologies for delaying you. Quite what we tell your father, young lady, I really don’t know.”
“He probably won’t even notice,” Pauline threw back, “I’m not a bloody aircraft.”
“Swearing is not encouraged here, young lady, so please be careful what you say. It’s particularly unbecoming in pretty young Englishwomen, whom I’m hoping will help some of my students learn to speak the language. Some will be fascinated by your accent–but don’t rely on it too much–they’ll soon tire and look for further novelty.”
Pauline looked perplexed, “I thought everyone here spoke English, sir?”
“Not quite–many of them speak American English of a very low form–I’m hoping you’ll be able to help them.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“I’m relying on you to do just that. If you have any problems, do come and see me or the counsellor if that’s more appropriate. Right off you go–this is supposed to be an educational establishment.”
“Yessir,” they said together and he shook his head and grinned.
Mr Swift was not impressed with Pauline’s late attendance to his class. He tutted when he accepted the note from the headmaster. The rest of the class enjoyed the diversion and he spoke nastily to the to restore order.
“Miss Burton, if you’ll be so kind we’re looking at Shakespeare’s the Merchant of Venice, page seven.”
She fumbled with the book eventually opening it at the correct page and a boy at the next desk pointed to where they were. Pauline smiled, they did this last year in English lit.
“So why is Shylock painted in such a dark manner?” asked Swift.
“Anti-semitism, Sir,” answered Pauline, “Jacobean England was quite anti-semitic and it was easy for Shakespeare to use that to create his villain.”
“I see, young lady, you’ve done this play before, I take it?”
“Um–yessir,” she blushed.
“Right, well I hope you’ll keep the ending to yourself–wouldn’t want to spoil it for the others, would we now?”
“No, sir.”
A general titter ran through the class, which Swift allowed to die by itself, although he glared at Pauline from time to time and she felt he didn’t like her.
“Tonight, your homework is to read all of the first act, we’ll read through it tomorrow, and as we somehow have a young woman in this class she will read the part of Portia, assisted by our pseudo-female, Mister Clampett, who will read the part of Nerissa. We’ll decide who will play the parts of the others later.” The bell rang for end of the class.
Mister Clampett, was actually Edward Clampett, who was presently in his alter ego guise of Ellie-Mae, he took the name from the sixties comedy series, The Beverley Hill-Billies. He was hardly a beauty having a rather prominent nose, but he looked reasonably female under the blonde wig and schoolgirl uniform he was wearing.
“You must be the chick who bested Zach Kowalski?” said Ellie-Mae.
“Who’s he when he’s at home?” asked Pauline.
“Our quarterback, all muscle–small brain.”
“Like a dinosaur?” suggested Pauline.
“Yeah, only he don’t know he’s extinct...”
“Yet,” added Pauline completing the sentence.
At lunch, Becky set up a meeting in her room with Sarah, Andrew and Pauline. This was going to be the time for Pauline to come clean and hope the others kept her little secret.
While the students were eating Professor Swift was complaining that it was bad enough with the little fairies running about in skirts without them letting in real girls. His reactionary views weren’t impressing many except one old codger, who wasn’t very impressed with anything that came after the fountain pen, and who believed women should be chained to the kitchen sink.
Not far away, Zach Kowalski who was now a bit of a joke as a hard man, having been faced down by a girl younger than he, and a foreigner to boot, was sulking with his friend Caleb Greensit. “I’m gonna get that stuck up little bitch back, Cale. No one does that to Zach Kowalski.”
“Sure, Zach, just bide ya time.”
“Dunno if I can, Cale, they’s even jokin’ that Mount Pleasant’ll play a girl linebacker next week, because awhat happened in the canteen. Naw, I’m gonna have t’make her pay big time.”
“Okay, Zach, count me in.”
“Thanks, Cale, you’re a real friend. Look at those pussies fawning round her–makes ya sick don’t it?” He indicated the group of princesses and protectors who were sat laughing and joking with Pauline and Becky the other side of the canteen.
“So this bloke, like comes into the stores and says his boss sent him for a long stand.”
“What’s a long stand?” asked Andrew.
“Shush,” said Sarah, “let her finish the story.”
“Anyway, they left him there and went off to deal with other callers an’ he’s lookin’ at his watch all the time an’ they seem to be ignoring him. But seein’ as he’s lower rank than the storeman, he can’t say anything and just waits and waits.
“Finally after like half an hour, the storeman says to him, did you upset your flight sergeant this morning? The bloke says, ‘Yeah, how’d’ya know?”
“The storeman says to him, ‘He just phoned to say you can go back now.’
“What about the long stand?” says the bloke.
“‘Your flight sergeant says you’ve stood long enough–’Long stand, geddit?” At which her audience all groaned.
Princess For Hire - The British Kid pt 4
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“So what d’you lot do to relax round here?” Pauline asked as they finished the school day.
“Depends, waddya fancy doin’?” replied Sarah.
“I dunno, what is there to do? I mean do I have to go and find my knitting or my Barbara Cartland book?”
“You knit–hey can you show me?” Sarah’s face lit up.
Definitely the wrong thing to say, thought Pauline to herself. “Where’s Becky, we can’t start until she gets here.”
Just then Becky appeared carrying a bag, “Sorry, I’m late, I brought some refreshments, cookies and muffins and some sodas.”
“Muffins? But we don’t have anything to toast them on.”
“Toast? They’re sponge things, ya don’t toast ‘em–d’ya?” Becky pulled one out of the bag.
“That’s not a muffin, that’s a fairy cake.”
“Well I’m not eatin’ any o’them then,” said Andrew smirkin’.”
Sarah was about to say, that’s not what I’ve heard when she thought better of it. They agreed to differ on what constituted a muffin or not, deciding that in England, they had English muffins while in the US, they had American muffins. The same went for cookies, which Pauline insisted were biscuits–they opted for the same solution–biscuits happened in England and cookies were American.
“Isn’t there something about when in Rome?” mused Sarah pointedly, fed up with having a real girl to compete with and also telling her how to speak her native tongue.
“I beg your pardon?” said Pauline who was trying to eat a double choc cookie without getting crumbs everywhere.
“You know the saying, when in Rome–do as the Roman’s do?”
“What, sic Gloria transit, and all that stuff?” asked Pauline.
“Yeah, if we were actually in Rome, but we’re not, we’re in America,” Sarah fired back.
“Okay ya’all,” said Pauline smirking.
Sarah fumed. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. Just ‘cos you’re a natural girl and a Brit, don’t mean you’re better than me.”
Becky blushed and Pauline caught her eye. “I’m sorry, Sarah, I wasn’t meaning to offend you–I just thought it was a bit of a lark, you know, making fun of our differences.”
“No, you we’re makin’ fun of us, Yanks, bein’ little miss superior?”
“She any relative to the Lake-Superiors, they live up Minnesota way,” asked Andrew trying to lighten things up.
“I knew a Mother Superior once,” answered Pauline, “dunno if there was a father about.” She was very nervous about telling the others and distracted herself by trying to be funny–it rarely worked.
“Any way, what are we here for, Beck, you said you had something to tell us?”
Becky who was sitting on the floor, blushed and looked at Pauline. “D’ya wanna do this or shall I?”
Andrew suddenly went pale, “You’re not an item, you two–are you?”
“What?” said Becky looking horrified. “No, you mutton head.”
“Thank goodness for that,” sighed Andrew.
“So what is this about then?” asked Sarah now intrigued, “You’re not pregnant are you?” she looked directly at Pauline.
Pauline coughed and Becky snorted.
“F’ Pete’s sake tell us and get it over with,” said Sarah now getting a little annoyed at being on the outside of this secret and the jokes it seemed to spawn.
“Okay, already. As it’s partly my fault, I’ll tell you.” Becky wriggled, the floor suddenly becoming very hard under her bum. “Pauline is a transgender like you.”
Sarah gasped. She glared at Becky and then at Pauline, both of whom were blushing like street lights. “You told us...”
“I know, I know–I thought it’d be a laugh, ya know–then that retard Kowalski muscled in on the act and it stopped being funny–well until Pauline put him down.”
“Uchiha knows?” asked Sarah.
“Yeah, we did it without tellin’ anyone. I thought it would be a good joke, get some of the boys makin’ fools of themselves.”
“So, wadda we do now?” Sarah asked looking round the room at the others, and noticed Andrew was looking at Pauline very strangely. “Waddya lookin’ at?” she demanded of Andrew.
“Nuthin’, I was tryin’ to figure out how she passed your examination, that’s all.”
“She looked natural, that’s how, I mean she’s got breasts and wide hips for a boy.”
“I have Klinefelters.” Pauline now blushed very red.
“What’s that?” asked Andrew.
“She’s XXY,” said Sarah, who’d read up on all the variations in trying to understand herself.
“Is that like one size beyond extra extra large?” joked Andrew.
“No, you dummy, it means she has an extra chromosome,” she rolled her eyes as she spoke.
“So she’s sorta like a natural girl, they’re XX,” said Becky trying to minimise her deceit of her friends.
Sarah shook her head. “So, you on anythin’, ’mones or that?”
“Me?” Pauline pointed at herself, “No, this is all natural–well as natural as being weird can be.”
“If Kowalski ever finds out you’re a boy–you’re dead meat.” Sarah looked at Pauline with a very serious expression–“I’m not jokin’, he’s a mean SOB.”
“It won’t be the first time I’ve been beaten up, used to happen regularly at one school my dad sent me to.”
“I thought you Brits were all laid back about transgenders and gays an’ thin’s.” Sarah sounded surprised.
“Some of us are, the government are officially but there’s no shortage of arseholes just looking for someone to cream.”
“Cream?” asked Becky.
“Yeah, beat to a pulp.”
“Oh–yeah, pulp–cream, yeah I can see that one.”
“So wadda we do?” asked Sarah.
“I kinda hoped we could keep the joke runnin’,” answered Becky. “If it goes wrong and they find out, you just plead ignorant, Pauline an’ me’ll take the rap.”
“Gee thanks, Becky,” said Pauline smiling to show she was joking.
“This is no laughin’ matter, Pauline, you could get real hurt here if that retard Kowalski finds out.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Pauline fired back.
“He’s still mad at you, there’s a joke doin’ the rounds that they’re gonna play a girl as linebacker on the team they’re playin’ next week.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” Pauline looked bemused.
“The linebacker tries to stop the quarterback, if he catches him, he’ll flatten him.”
“Ah, I get the general idea–but I thought American football was played in suits of armour?”
“They wear body armour but it won’t protect against two hundred pounds of muscle landin’ on top of ya.”
They all watched Pauline as she was obviously counting, her eyes were closed and she was touching the fingers of her right hand against those of her left. “Geez, that’s ninety one kilos, or getting on for fifteen stone.”
“Sounds a bit lighter, that way, does it?” asked Becky.
“No, but it gives me some perspective.”
“How heavy are you?” asked Sarah.
“I’m about forty five kilos.”
“Hundred pounds,” said Becky making the calculation very quickly.
“D’ya need to wear heavy boots if you go out in the wind?” joked Andrew.
“Nah, she’ll just attach herself to a dead weight like you.” Sarah said poker faced and Becky snorted.
“Oh thanks, Sarah–I love ya too.”
“Have you got enough clothes an’ things?” asked Sarah becoming practical again.
“We’ve got her a spare uniform and one or two things from Ellie-Mae, we’ll do some shopping at the weekend; the school’s gonna give her a grant towards some more clothes.”
“Shoppin’ eh, now you’re talkin’ my language,” smiled Sarah.
“I told you, she’d want to help, didn’t I?” Becky said to her protégé.
“Wadd-I do now?” asked Sarah shrugging and smiling at them.
Meanwhile, not a million miles away, two conspirators were making plans. “I decided what I’m gonna do to our English bitch.” Kowalski told his friend Cale.
“Yeah, what?”
“I’m gonna make her gimme a BJ in front of the whole team.”
“Make sure she don’t bite it off.”
“If she tries I’ll knock her teeth out.”
“Ain’t very subtle.”
“Nah, but it’ll send a message to all those fags prancin’ round in skirts, woan’ it.”
“Sure will. How ya gonna get her with the team?”
“Easy, I’m gonna apologise and invite her to come an’ cheer for us.”
“Da Brits don’t do no cheerleadin’, do dey?”
“Doan matter, I’ll be so charmin’ she’ll think she’s freakin’ Cinderella.”
“Hey, I like it.”
“Yeah, so do I, especially the bit about poking her tonsils.” They both roared with laughter and shared the illicit bottle of wine they’d smuggled into the school.
With the group sworn to secrecy, they were getting breakfast when they stopped dead in their tracks, the quarterback and his side kick were coming towards them.
“Oh-oh, sleaze alarm,” said Becky spotting them first. The two boys walked right up to Pauline and stood before her.
“Look about the other night,” said Kowalski.
The whole group felt their blood pressure rising and Pauline felt her buttocks clenching as well. “It’s okay,” she said.
“No it ain’t,” said the quarterback.
Oh shit, thought Pauline and clenched her buttocks even tighter.
“I need to apologise–I was outta order, ’specially as you’re a visitor to our country.” Andrew watched in total amazement, he pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming–nah, if it was dream, Pauline would be whacking Kowalski over the head with a chair–that sort of dream he could really enjoy.
“It’s okay, crossed wires–that sort of thing,” said Pauline sounding frightfully frightfully. She seemed to get even more posh as the conversation went on–it wasn’t conscious–it just happened.
“No, it ain’t okay, I apologise without no reservations.”
“In which case, I accept your apologies unreservedly. Thank you.”
The quarterback then made them all jump as he grabbed her hand and then kissed the back of it. “Look, princess, we need real girls like you in the cheerleaders, show these bimbos what ta do, so how’s about it.”
“I’ve never tried anything like that, I’d be hopeless I expect.”
“These two do it, so I’ll bet you could–go on, I know the school would be proud of ya, ’special if we beat Mt Pleasant.”
“I really don’t think I’d be much good at it.” Pauline blushed and some of the others in the queue for food were encouraging her to try out for the cheer team. In the end the peer pressure told. “Okay, if I can borrow some clothes, I’ll try.”
“Great,” still holding her hand, he kissed it again, “see ya later.” He and Cale went and Andrew muttered, “You’ll need to sterilise that hand now.”
Munching on poached egg on toast, Pauline thought maybe things were looking up and the feud she had with Kowalski was over. Neither of the others thought so and said what they thought.
“Watch him, he’s like a snake in the grass,” offered Sarah.
“I wouldn’t trust him if he came endorsed by the President,” muttered Andrew.
“Do slime balls change their spots,” said Becky mixing metaphors and they all laughed.
“See, she took the bait.” Kowalski preened himself in front of the mirror in the changing rooms.
“Yeah, dumb broad.”
“All these bitches are dumb, but she’s got nice tits–like to see ’em bouncin’ in a cheerleader’s uniform.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Yeah, then I get her to open wide and suck on this,” he pulled down his underpants and waved his weapon about.
“She’s gonna choke on that Zach.”
“Yeah, I kinda hope so.”
“It was silly of me, wasn’t it–to agree to dance for that wretched boy.” Pauline began to rue her agreeing to his persuasion.
“Dancin’?” queried Becky. “Yeah, I suppose it is a bit like dancin’, dancin’ an’ gymnastics. You any good at star jumps?”
“What like this, you mean?” Pauline leapt into the air throwing her arms and legs out stiffly at an angle.
“Yeah, now all you gotta learn is the other sixty five moves and all the chants.”
“Oh sugar, it was silly of me.”
“Dunno, it’s a good workout, here put these on, they should fit,” Becky offered her spare kit to her friend. Then it was two hours hard work in the gym under the watchful eye of Ms Sanderson, who came in specially to train the princess cheer team.
At the end of the two hours, Pauline was on the point of collapse, it was harder work than circuit training, which she’d done once and pulled a muscle. Here Ms Sanderson warmed them up slowly and also warmed them down at the end.
“That was good fer a newbie, yeah, Pauline, we’ll make cheerleader out of you yet.”
Pauline didn’t know if she felt good or bad about that, all she felt was exhausted. She wanted to get back to her room, shower and go to bed and that is what she did while Zach Kowalski clapped his hands with glee.
“Wass that guy say at the end of the A-team? ’S good when a plan comes together. He laughed until his sides ached, revenge was sweet, and on a bimbo like the British fox, it was gonna be double sweet.
Comments and kudos might just encourage me to write the next one a bit sooner.
Princess for Hire - The British Kid - 5
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The British Kid Part 5 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad
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The next couple of days came and went without incident. The princesses had helped Pauline to acquire the basics of a wardrobe, some bras, panties, tops, skirts, shoes and tights as well as two or three school uniforms. Most of it had come from the internet, which the school had agreed to fund and in return Pauline was going to pay for her own makeup and a visit to the hairdresser in town to get her hair cut into a short girl’s style.
Becky had shown her things to do with it and she was now coping with her own makeup and haircare, until they could get to town.
The cheerleading, was practised twice a week and the sports bra really helped Pauline from bouncing so much in her uniform. She’d met most of the other princesses and also found that most of the boys treated her with a strange sort of respect which she found hard to define.
Sarah and Becky were treated as girls, as they lived in role all the time, however, the accent, the small stature and girlish features meant that the boys saw Pauline as the genuine article and she was treated as a visiting alien of some sort, who half the boys fancied and the other half were afraid of.
Several of the boys liked to stand or sit near her just to hear her talk–Americans–or some of them at least, were fascinated by an authentic English accent; which tickled her pink.
Becky had shown her an article in a British newspaper, online of course, which held that a significant number of the American cinema going public preferred to have characters in fantasy or science fiction films talking with British or other foreign accents, it made it more acceptable to them for some reason. The British actors like Sean Bean, certainly weren’t complaining. It seemed ever since the success of Lord of the Rings, British actors were rushing about waving swords or featured American ones who affected British accents–the most outrageous being Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean, a film which had featured in the school’s most recent film show.
Pauline had a small following who at first were a novelty then an irritation as they kept asking her to say, ‘Captain, Jack Sparrow,’ in a camp English accent. “No one talks like that in England,” she declared.
“Yes they do,” was the response, “Keith Richards does.”
“No he doesn’t, Johnny Depp exaggerated it, just like I am.” But they wouldn’t have it. It got to be very irritating when every time some of them encountered her, they’d say it to her and fall about laughing.
“It’s no good, girl, you’ll have to get yourself a Keira Knightly outfit and swipe ’em with your cutlass.”
“I think she actually had a rapier,” Pauline replied to Andrew’s suggestion.
“Foiled again,” he punned and the others groaned.
“It’s your cut-lass accent, me bucko,” added Dawn, which got even louder groans.
“I tell you what,” offered Ed Clampett, actually dressed as a boy for once, “Professor Swift has been a bit nicer to us since you started reading Portia.”
“God, I hope we don’t have to do Romeo and Juliet,” sighed Pauline, she’d got stuck with reading the part of Portia in her previous school in England and for a while it was a standing joke that the initial P in her name stood for Portia Burton. It got old very quickly too. Now it wouldn’t matter, she’d suspended so much of her belief in reality that everything seemed like a dream in some ways.
The school counsellor, an aptly named, Ms Patience Long, was astonished at Pauline’s story and wanted to do a session every day because she found it so engrossing. Pauline eventually managed to agree to once a week and get a promise of total confidentiality from her. They also agreed that if anyone asked Pauline why she was seeing the counsellor, it because of losing her mother. What was rather sad was that it was a live issue with Pauline, but it would have to wait until they’d dealt with the gender matter.
Reality was to come crashing back into Pauline’s life rather sooner than she’d have liked. Sarah, Becky and Pauline had been out to town to do some shopping and she’d had her hair styled. The length had been kept but it was layered a little and was easier for her to tease into a feminine style herself.
She’d also had a brow shape done, and they were all laughing at how red they were while they waited for the bus to take them back to school. Pauline was carrying a new bra and panty set, which was certainly more exotic than most of her lingerie and she’d had her bust measured which agreed with how Becky had done it a week or so back.
As they arrived at the school still in good spirits, Mr Uchiha sent for Pauline and Becky. “Looks like the solid waste has hit the atmospheric oscillator,” suggested Pauline as they walked to the headmaster’s study.
“Sure does, oh well, we go down together, eh?” suggested Becky.
“Absolutely,” agreed Pauline, “One for all and all for one, what?”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Yeah, Three Musketeers.”
“ ’Course it was,” Becky berated herself. “Oh well, here goes nothing,” she knocked on the headmaster’s door.
They were bid enter and Mr Uchiha looked serious as he told them to sit. “I have some bad news for you Pauline. I thought you might wish to have Becky stay with you while I explained what has happened.”
Pauline felt like she’d been hit with a large mallet and it had completely numbed her. She just nodded, unable to say anything.
“It’s about your father, I’m afraid.”
Pauline said nothing but huge tears ran down her face. Becky put an arm round her to support her. Normally Uchiha would have suggested it was unnecessary, but today he said nothing.
“He’s been involved in an accident while they were testing some new aircraft. He’s still alive but very badly injured.”
Pauline simply sat and nodded the tears continued to fall.
“There’s a car on its way from the local airbase, they’re going to fly you to see him. I’ve suggested that Ms Henderson goes with you, if she’s agreeable.”
“What?” gasped Becky, “Is that a good idea–I mean.”
“You’re perfectly acceptable as a young woman as is Pauline. I’m astonished that no one has even thought to dispute your claim to femaleness, even Professor Swift has been heard to wax lyrical about your rendition of Portia.”
There was a knock at the door, the secretary poked her head round it to announce the Airforce were waiting outside to take Pauline and a friend to the airfield.
“I can’t go like this,” Pauline said weakly.
“They’re expecting two young women to be collected, I’m afraid.”
“We’ll have to explain–I’m a boy.”
“That would cause so many problems, they didn’t seem to have difficulties in accepting that P Burton was a girl,” Uchiha explained.
“But my dad might?”
“If I understand correctly, and I could well be very wrong, he’s unconscious, so he might not be able to see you or even remember you, depending on how badly hurt he is.”
Pauline said nothing but closed her eyes and collapsed on the floor, the thick Chinese carpet cushioning her fall.
She came round with the school nurse wiping a cold wet cloth across her forehead. “Are you alright, young lady?”
“Yeah, I think so. Sorry, have I been sick?”
“No,” the nurse smiled.
“Oh, I am now.” With that she began to heave and the nurse just happened to have a receiver to catch it in. Becky had wisely waited outside, as had Uchiha, who when he heard the retching worried as much about his carpet as he did his pupil–cleaning a Chinese carpet is a total pig.
Ten minutes later, Pauline was escorted back to her room and she and Becky were told to pack for a few days trip. Pauline included one outfit of Paul’s just in case. Then without further ado, they were placed in the airforce registered Chevrolet and whisked off to the airbase.
“We’re gonna fly you girls by helicopter to Johnson and a airplane from there will take you to your dad.” They both nodded as there wasn’t much else they could do.
The helicopter was noisy but felt strange rising almost perpendicularly into the air. As Paul, he’d have been fascinated and asked loads of questions, but as a girl, she felt a little overwhelmed by the way the deception had grown beyond her control–that coupled with the worry about her dad, meant that she was functioning very much on autopilot.
For her part, Becky, talked to the woman sergeant who’d been sent to babysit them all the way to the hospital, which was at the airbase. Becky, again would normally have had loads of questions about the geeky side of helicopters, never having flown in one before but like Pauline, she kept them to herself. Better to be thought a girl than proven otherwise.
The helicopter flight lasted about ninety minutes and they alighted with cases at Johnson airbase and were escorted to an office, where they were given ID badges after posing for quick digital photos. “Make sure you have these at all times, or you could be arrested or even shot.” Pauline was suitably horrified by such a suggestion and shrank back from the large corporal who told them, while Becky thought he was bull-shitting them. However, she pinned on her badge which declared her name as ‘Rebecca Henderson’ and helped Pauline pin hers on as well.
They were left to wait while their flight was organised and helped themselves to a sandwich each, not knowing when they’d eat again. After eating, and snaffling some crisps and chocolate as emergency rations, they went off to the ladies and freshened up. It was also the first time they could actually talk securely.
“This is absolutely stupid. What am I supposed to say if my dad wakes up and asks what the hell I’m doing in a dress?”
“I don’t know, tell him you dressed in a hurry - in the dark. Oh just tell him you’re transgendered.”
“It’s all a bit sudden, isn’t it?”
“He won’t know that though, will he?”
“We’re not exactly very close, so it might work. I’m just beginning to wish we hadn’t started all this,” Pauline referred to her dress. “Why wouldn’t you let me travel in jeans–you did?”
“You need to reinforce your feminine identity, just in case they think your dad had a son.”
“Yeah sure, so they’ll decide he had a rather peculiar son, is that it?” She made funny face at Becky who was quite tense and giggled far harder than was deserved.
“They’re surely not laying on a flight just for we two, are they?” asked Pauline.
“I understood it to mean they had a regular shuttle between various airbases and that’s what we’re waiting for.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.” They went back to the waiting area and Pauline picked up an airforce magazine which included an article about her dad. She read it and then looked at the photo. Tears filled her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” asked Becky but Pauline couldn’t answer. She showed the article and Becky took it scanning it quickly she picked up the main points. She smiled. When Pauline had recovered, she added, “At least it doesn’t mention you at all.”
Pauline nodded, agreeing that was a good thing, but also acknowledging that she was worried about her dad.
The flight to her dad’s home base was aboard a regular airliner, only one owned by the US airforce, but it felt similar to being on board an aeroplane anywhere, and the food was just as bad. They managed a short sleep, but Pauline was too worried to sleep for long.
“Welcome to the Richard M Nixon Airbase,” announced the chief steward on the aircraft as they touched down. “Please wait until we stop moving before undoing your seatbelts.” The pilot manoeuvred the large machine until it lined up with the stages and the light above them pinged and they could finally stand up and stretch.
They were treated as minor VIPs, escorted by the woman sergeant their luggage was collected for them and they were shuffled through reception to an awaiting car which drove them across the base–some two miles–to the hospital.
Pauline was glad the sergeant, Nancy Brew-Hoffman, was there, it saved her saying anything much at all. However, when they were shunted into an office and a doctor in a Persil-white coat followed them in, Pauline’s tummy flipped and she felt quite sick.
The doctor, a rather tall man with thick, short cut grey hair bent down and looked at the two girl’s name badges. He looked Pauline in the eye, “I’m afraid your father was badly injured in the crash. He’s currently unconscious, and fitted up to several machines. So don’t be surprised when you go and see him. If you speak, especially to him, be careful what you say because people who are unconscious might still be able to hear you.”
“Is he going to die?” asked Pauline in a very quiet voice.
“I don’t know, young lady,” the doctor squeezed her shoulder with his large hand, “That’s very much in the lap of the gods, I’m afraid.”
She was led on her own into the cubicle where Tim lay on a ripple mattress which made occasional puffing noises as the mattress produced a current of air to prevent bed sores. She was horrified and barely recognised the bruised and burnt face, covered in bandages, the body swathed in more dressings and tubes and leads seemed to be plugged in everywhere, beeping or ticking, lights and LEDs flashing.
This thing, almost unrecognisable as a man, let alone her father, was her dad? And she was worried that he wouldn’t recognise her? The nurse with her said, “It’s okay, ya know, he cain’t hurt ya.”
“Are you sure that’s my dad?” popped out before she could stop it, “he’s a tall man with fair hair and...”
“Accordin’ to his dog-tags that’s your dadd-ee.”
Pauline nodded.
“Go ahead, speak to him, darlin’, he won’t bite.”
Pauline nodded and gingerly stepped forward, then clearing her throat, she stepped forward again, and touching the bandaged hand said quietly, “Hello, Daddy, I’m here, it’s Paulie.” She used the name he used to call her when she was young and before her mother died.
“It’s me, Paulie, Daddy, I’m here.”
The fingers of the hand twitched and she nearly withdrew her own hand in fright. She watched the eyes moving under the closed eyelids, wondering what her dad was thinking–can you think in a coma? Did he recognise her? Tears began to fall and she stayed with him for ten or so minutes before the nurse led her away back to the others.
“How is he?” asked Becky.
Pauline shrugged unable to speak, the tears silently flowing down her cheeks.
“Oh my,” said Becky and hugged her.
Later back in their hotel, the two girls shared a room with Nancy staying in the next room, they talked.
“I don’t know if he’s going to die, he’s all burnt and covered in bandages.” She began to cry again.
“Hey, you gotta be brave for him, you gotta make him get better.” Becky put her hands on Pauline’s shoulders. “You gotta help him–he’s your daddy.”
“I don’t know if I can.” Pauline wept and her friend pulled her into a hug.
“Hey, girl, you can do this, remember you’re a girl and we’re stronger than boys–you can do this.”
“I’ll try,” sniffed Pauline, who while enjoying the hug pushed her friend away. “Thanks, Becks.”
“Nah, that was someone else, my name is Becky now.”
Princess For Hire - The British Kid pt 6
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The British Kid Part 6 by Angharad Copyright© 2011 Angharad
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“So what do we do now, I wonder?” Pauline said to no one in particular, staring out of the hotel window to the trees in the distance.
“I expect they’ll have some sort of protocol,” offered Becky, “it’s the airforce, they probably do it by numbers.”
“What—cry two, three, blow nose two, three?”
“Yeah, that sorta thing.”
“I barely recognised him,” a tear ran down Pauline’s cheek, “it didn’t look like my dad. It looked like a partly cooked steak wrapped in a bandage.”
Becky was about to make some noise of revulsion but realised it would just reinforce Pauline’s anxieties; instead she moved towards her friend and placed two hands on her shoulders. “These things are always bad in the beginning, as he recovers he’ll get back to his old self.”
“His face was gone, what if he’s all scarred, what if he’s blind—how will we cope?”
“They’ll do their best for him, he’s a pilot—they cost loads to train—believe me, they’ll want him to recover.”
They spent the rest of the day going out to eat and watching television. Pauline didn’t care for the American form of mass entertainment, ten zillion channels and nothing worth watching on any of them. She went and lay on her bed and cried herself to sleep—if things got worse, she’d be alone and in a foreign country. For all the complications of running round in bras and skirts, she felt a friendship with the princesses she’d never experienced before despite attending three or four different schools in England, including one rather expensive one in the West Country. She’d never fitted in before, she wondered if she now knew why.
Quite what would happen if her dad did recover and she had to end the charade she couldn’t bear to contemplate, but for now she was grateful for the support and friendship of Becky and her other girlfriends in the princess project.
The next morning they were offered a tour of the base which Becky would have enjoyed, certainly as Beck; but Pauline who’d been shown round several in the UK was definitely against it. Instead, they went shopping and Pauline bought her dad a get well card and a new top for herself. There was nothing else she could think of. Becky did suggest a photo and then realised the questions that would pose.
After a lunch of pasta and minced beef, she was taken back to the hospital and saw the same doctor. “Well, young lady, I don’t know what you did to your daddy but he seems much calmer since you visited.”
Pauline shrugged, “I just talked to him and held his hand where it wasn’t burnt. Is his face going to be all right, will he be able to see?”
“I’m afraid the scans show a great deal of head trauma, so until swelling goes down and the body starts to heal itself, we won’t know how much damage has occurred. I’m sorry to be so vague, but in these cases of severe trauma it can take weeks or months to know how much damage has occurred.”
“Will that affect his memory?”
“It certainly could.”
“So he could like think I’m a boy not a girl?”
“He might not even remember he has a child, or even who he is.”
They took Pauline in again and this time she was prepared so didn’t feel overwhelmed by the sight that lay before her. “Hi, Daddy, it’s Paulie, come to see how you are and to tell you to stop lying there and get yourself better as soon as you can.” She held the ends of his fingers where they protruded from the dressings, once again they twitched in response to her touch. “I love you, Daddy, please get better soon.” A tear dripped from her face onto the back of his hand and his hand moved in response.
A nurse who was monitoring his vitals from the machines whispered in her ear, “You keep talkin’ to him an’ touchin’ him an’ he’ll be better in no time at all.”
“I’m not Florence Nightingale, you know,” Pauline retorted.
“No you’re not, you’re his daughter and he’s responding to your touch and your voice. Right now, he’s probably floatin’ somewheres not sure where he is or even what he is, whether he’s right side up or down, but your voice and touch he knows an’ he can feel the love you’re sendin’; so just you keep doin’ just that, it’s really helpin’ him way more than anythin’ else.”
“Really?” Pauline almost gasped.
“Really, so you just keep on talkin’ to your daddy.” The nurse placed the clip board with assorted charts by the side of the bed, touched Tim on the arm and said quietly to him, “Right, Loo-tenant, I’m goin’ off to get a coffee an’ I’m handin’ you over to your daughter, see ya later.”
As the nurse spoke Pauline became aware of Tim’s eyes moving rapidly under his closed lids and his fingers seemed to twitch.
“It’s okay, Daddy, I’m here,” she said and the fingers closed on her hand, squeezed it as if confirming it was there and then relaxed. Perhaps he had forgotten he had a son?
While Pauline continued to touch and talk to her dad Becky was being given a short tour of the base, they showed her fighter jets and bombers, missiles and bombs, bullets and cannon shells. The girl in her suddenly realised these things were designed with one purpose—killing people. She asked to see the sports facilities and finally they came round the medical block and she sat and waited while Pauline said goodbye to her dad, for the night at least.
The nurse who’d been with him since his admission came out with her; “You realise his vitals are nearly normal since you’ve come to see him?”
“What does that mean?” asked Becky.
“It means our loo-tenant looks like he’s gonna make it. Even his in’ercranials are comin’ down, which means the swellin’s improvin’. You ain’t got some magic we ain’t do ya?” she addressed Pauline.
“No, but he’s my dad and I love him.”
“We noticed, hon, more important, so did he.”
“Was there anyone else in the airplane?” asked Becky suddenly thinking Tim was unlikely to be alone.
“Oh yeah, he didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry,” offered Pauline.
“Accord’n to the eyewitnesses, an engine blew up as they was comin’ in t’land, hit the runway pretty hard.”
Pauline saw this happen in her mind’s eye and felt quite ill. She rushed outside and threw up over a bush by the entrance. She didn’t want any further details, it was too painful.
They stayed for three more days and while Tim now had his eyes open, she didn’t know if he recognised her or not, or if he knew he should have had a son rather than a daughter. If he did, he said nothing—not that he spoke much more than a few hoarse whispers due to damage to his throat. He understood he’d crashed and that his treatment would take time. He also understood that Pauline and Becky had to return to school. On their final meeting, Pauline hugged him as best she could and pecked him on the side of his face. He squeezed her hand and whispered he loved her and she said she loved him a bit louder and more tearfully.
Becky popped in to say goodbye and Tim managed to whisper to her, “Take care of her,” indicating with his eyes Pauline who was standing by the door silently weeping.
“I will, sir, I’ll take good care of her.” Tim smiled and winked at her then lay back in exhaustion and slept.
The return trip was uneventful though both the girls were absorbed with their own thoughts more than each other’s company. Back at the school, they reported to the headmaster and then went off to sleep—the whole journey had been physically and emotionally draining.
The next morning Becky and Pauline reported for breakfast and answered an avalanche of questions, mainly about Tim’s injuries. “He saw you, what did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything,” said Pauline feeling tearful.
“Yes he did,” corrected Becky, “he said he loved you an’ he asked me to take care o’ you.”
“We’ll all help with that,” proposed Sarah and they all agreed. “Don’t forget it’s cheer practice later.”
“I think I’ll give that a miss, if you don’t mind, not in the mood just now.”
“Yes we do mind, if these elephants can manage it,” she gestured at Elli-Mae and Ruby, then a real girl should find it a push over.” She also had read exercise was good for relieving depression.
“I don’t know, Sarah...”
“But I do, they’ve got a game on Friday against Sassafras College an’ they’re gonna need all the help they can get.”
“Crikey, I don’t think I could do it in front of the whole school, not in that skimpy outfit.”
“Course y’can, the rest of us do, just make sure y’got y’sports bra on.”
Pauline looked down at her chest, she was sure it had grown a little, probably all the junk food she’d eaten on her trip west. Still, now she was back to her usual haunt, she felt a little more comfortable.
In English literature, she took up the part of Portia once again, though Swifty, made them go through the actions rather than just read the part. It made it doubly difficult to do but also gave greater insight into the storyline which was after all written to be performed not read while seated at a desk. As they were leaving, Professor Swift said, “Good to have you back, Miss Burton, we’ve missed your authentic English input.”
Gobsmacked was probably too fine a point to describe her reaction, but it gives some indication of her surprise. “Uh—thank you, Professor.” This was like Hogwarts she thought, where everyone was called professor.
“How is your father?”
“Pretty bad, the plane crash landed and blew up.”
“He’s still alive though?”
“Yes sir, but badly burned.”
“Where there’s life there is hope, eh girl?”
She nodded feeling a lump in her throat and tears forming in her eyes.
“Better get on, you’ll be late for your next class.”
She nodded and walked quickly with Ellie-Mae who’d waited for her.
“He likes you,” offered Ellie-Mae.
“Who does?” asked Pauline absently, trying to sniff back the tears.
“Professor Swift.”
“Don’t be daft, he doesn’t like anyone less than four hundred years old.”
Ellie-Mae snorted, “He does, when you were away he asked where his English Rose was. When we told him he actually looked concerned for a millisecond.”
“Only ’cause he’d hafta find some other patsy to read his stupid play.”
“He’s thinkin’ adoin’ it as a play, now we have the princesses.”
“If he thinks I’m standing up in front of the whole school and doing it, he’s got another think coming,” declared Pauline.
“He tends to get his own way, Pauline, so don’t upset him.”
“I’m a princess, he’s only a stupid professor—you know, I’m sure there’s a pea under my mattress.”
Seeing the reference to the fairy tale immediately, Ellie-Mae snorted loudly, a reaction which pleased Pauline immensely. These colonials were so easy to amuse—yeah—Captain Jack Sparrow.
Elaine Sanderson, the cheer coach, wasn’t so easy to amuse and Pauline got picked on once or twice. “Come on you lot, the girls I coach at kindergarten have more idea than you—especially our English princess—come on, your royal highness, shake that butt a little harder.”
“Oh shove it, I’ve had enough,” Pauline dripping with sweat and exhausted went to flounce off from the group.
“I thought you were a real girl,” stated Ms Sanderson.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Pauline felt close to ’fessing up just to get away.
“Real girls are tougher ’an boys.”
“Perhaps I’ll try being a boy then,” retorted Pauline.
“Miz Sanderson, she’s been under a lot of stress recently, her dad...”
“I know all about her father’s crash—he’s gonna need you to help him.”
“Yeah, I know that,” replied Pauline wondering why she hadn’t just fled the gym.
“So how ya gonna be tough enough to help him if you can’t cope with some girly cheerin’?”
“I’ll cope, don’t you worry,” Pauline felt angry first at being challenged and second, for having dragged her father into it.
“Prove it,” challenged Sanderson.
“What?” said Pauline in slight confusion.
“Git your ass back here and show these apologies for a cheer team how a real girl does it—or are you just a whiny limey?”
The rest of the squad, grateful for a moment’s respite, stood watching the drama with bated breath. They knew Miz Sanderson was playing a high risk strategy and the next few moments would result in Pauline picking up the gauntlet flung at her or walking away. None of them dared to say anything they felt it was so finely balanced.
Pauline felt incandescent with anger at this...this upstart Yank telling her she wasn’t tough enough to be a girl. She’d survived bullying wherever she’d been, this was no different—well yes it was—she had realised that being a girl gave her more strength than the feeble boy she’d presented in previous places. If she failed as a girl as she had as a boy the future looked pretty bleak, and the woman was right about one thing, she’d need to be strong to look after her dad, plus the girl was out of the bag now and she wasn’t going back. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the coach, ‘You want a fight—you’ve got one!’ she said with her eyes as she strode back to the others.
Elaine Sanderson smiled internally, with one girl and another transgender one plus the four other pretenders, she didn’t have much to play with, but she had some sort of hope for the future of a team. All she had to do was lick them into shape—yeah, miracles take a bit longer.
The rest of the practice was of a new intensity, the energy flying between Pauline and the coach was sparking them all to new heights of performance, even though it was a mixture of anger and stubbornness. When Miz Sanderson told them to finish they were all so tired they could barely move.
Only two of them and Becky moved like girls before the drama, now they were all more fluid and limber. They might just make a cheer team, thought Elaine as she went away that evening—and that would be a turn up for the books—doing real cheers like the girl squads, not the very basic stuff you teach boys—they might just get there. Yeah, the girls done good.
Princess for Hire - The British Kid part 7.
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The British Kid Part 7 by Angharad Copyright© 2011 & 2016 Angharad
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This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.
“Crikey, I feel absolutely cream crackered,” said Pauline to the others as they dragged themselves back towards their rooms.
“You what?” asked Becky Henderson.
“Knackered,” offered Pauline wondering why these colonials still claimed to speak English but couldn’t understand half of what she said. Becky still wasn’t sure. “Bushed, tired, exhausted, wabbit.”
“Did she say rabbit?” asked Ellie-Mae.
“Wabbit,” corrected Pauline, “it’s Scots for knackered.”
“Yeah, course it is, shoulda known that, girls, shouldn’t we...I mean we talk Scots all the time, don’t we?” They all laughed as their tired legs carried them up the stairs.
“That was some work out,” said Sarah pausing to give the others a hug before she went off to shower in her own bathroom.
“Yeah,” agreed the others arranging to meet so they could all go down to supper together. They barely had an hour to get themselves ready and Pauline didn’t know whether she wanted to sleep, wash or eat first. In the end Becky gave her the bathroom first so that decided things and she rushed through her shower knowing that Becky was waiting to use it.
The warm water helped ease her aching muscles but they were going to be tested again every day for the foreseeable future as the coach had insisted they needed to train that hard before the first football game the following week.
Zac and Caleb continued their plotting and they decided they’d get their revenge after the game against Mount Pleasant, they’d invite her to come and be thanked by the whole team after the game.
The extra burden of the exercise plus normal school curriculum and the worry of her father made Pauline seem very tired, so much so that Mr Uchiha sent her to see the school doctor. He was aware of the situation and decided on some blood tests. It seemed that both sex hormones were absent or practically so, so he prescribed an injection of oestrogen to be supported with tablets.
It took a few days but the effects began to kick in and Pauline started to feel more energetic and with the combination of exercise and increased appetite, she found her waist was toning nicely and her bras were too small.
On the day of the game, Elaine Sanderson came to give her protégés a warm up before hand which meant Zac wasn’t able to speak to any of them to implement his planned revenge. The rest of the team laughed at him. He was a good quarter back but that was all he was good at. Otherwise they saw him as a bully of smaller boys and the Princesses, all of whom tended to avoid him. Zac thought that was a sign of his power, everyone else saw it as a sign of desperation.
The game began and no quarter was given, each side determined to try to physically destroy the other, so much so that the referee actually spoke to both captains to tone down the physicality before someone got really hurt. In the last quarter as the cheerleaders were feeling as tired as the actual players Pauline tried to rouse her tired limbed ‘sisters’ into one last effort.
“Go Zac go,” they screamed as the quarterback initiated one final attack before he was hit very hard by the tackle of an opposing line backer. Pauline winced as she heard the thud of the two young men colliding. Zac stayed down when the tackler struggled to his feet. He lay there rather too still.
The first aiders rushed on to the field with the cheerleaders close behind. “Zac, c’mon, wake up,” called Pauline from behind a pair of paramedics who were checking him out.
“Anyone get the number of the truck?” he said quietly as they helped him to sit up. Two minutes later they helped him to his feet and the crowd roared in support. The Academy had won, they’d scored with the final touch of the ball. Zac was a hero and as he gathered his wits he saw the younger girl looking concerned for him and he smiled—his plan was coming together.
“We couldn’ta done it without you girls,” he said smiling at their anxious faces and he lumbered over towards them. “That’s the best cheerin’ you’ve ever done.”
“That’s because we have a new head cheerleader,” suggested Sophie, one of the Princesses who normally appeared as John.
“Is that right?” asked Zac.
“Yes,” continued Sophie, “Pauline has made a whole lot of difference to the cheerleaders.”
“So it takes a English girl to show you load of pussies how to do it? Makes some sort a sense I s’pose.”
“Are you all right, Zac?” asked Pauline watching him limping.
“I think a kiss would help it get better quicker,” he threw back at her and felt a warmth inside him as she blushed very red.
“I um...” she spluttered.
“Make him shower first or you’ll catch somethin’,” called Becky who didn’t like the boy but didn’t wish to see him hurt either.
“I wasn’t talkin’ to you, but to little Pauline here.” He put his arm round her shoulder. “Help me back to the changin’ rooms, will ya?” She could hardly refuse and she watched him being congratulated and high fived by his colleagues as they made their way beneath the bleachers where the changing rooms were. She went to escape his hold as they entered the room but he held on to her. “Come an’ let the rest of the gang thank you for the best cheer we’ve ever had,” he said as he pulled her into the changing room and one of his colleagues slammed the door shut.
“I er think I ought to leave now.”
“No you need to let every one of us say thanks, yes guys?” A rumble of agreement filled the room. Pauline felt very nervous. They all shook hands with her and she was dwarfed by their size which added to her anxiety.
“I have to be going, now.”
“Just a quick kiss first, you can’t deny me that.”
Oh shit, thought Pauline and she stepped towards him ready to peck him on the cheek. She did so blushed and stepped back quickly but he grabbed her arm. “Not so quickly, Princess, we have a tradition here, ya know...”
“What tradition?” asked Pauline feeling very uneasy.
“When we win, the head cheerleader and the quarterback, well see, she kisses him somewhere else. He began to push her down onto her knees and she suddenly realised what he was expecting. She nearly died.
“No,” she said loudly, “I won’t.”
“Oh yes you will, Princess, you ain’t gotta choice, either you suck it or I shove it somewhere else.”
“No I won’t.” She tried to stand but he held her down and started pulling his trousers down. “No,” she screamed as the team began clapping and chanting.
“Me next,” shouted Caleb.
“Noooo,” screamed Pauline trying to struggled free as the chanting grew to a frenzy. Despite her several beatings at schools in England no one had tried to sexually assault her, this was a new form of terror and as he pulled down his jockstrap to release his genitals, two things happened. The door burst open and Uchiha and Elaine Sanderson rushed into the room and Pauline thinking she was about to die anyway, punched the object of Zac’s affection as hard as she could.
Uchiha, who’d worked out what could be happening once Elaine told him the boys had taken Pauline into the changing rooms, got there just in time to see the kneeling girl poleaxe his quarterback with the best right hook he’d seen in a long time, albeit somewhat lower than is usually allowable under Queensbury rules.
Elaine grabbed the near hysterical girl and escorted her out of the room while Uchiha stayed behind and read the school’s equivalent of the riot act and this was just the start, he’d carpet them each individually if he didn’t actually suspend or expel them. His normally hidden temper was now exposed to the boys as a cold fury as he tore strip after strip off them. Kowalski wasn’t excused despite his recent injury, in fact Uchiha started on him first.
“What happened?” asked Becky once Pauline had managed to calm down enough to speak.
“He tried to force me to...” she couldn’t say it and a new flood of tears engulfed her.
“She was on her knees, work it out for yourself,” said Mizz Sanderson.
“Oh god,” said Becky almost turning green, “you poor girl.” She wrapped Pauline in a huge hug. Pauline just cried on her shoulder. A little later the whole squad escorted her back to her room, where with Becky beside her, she lay—still in her cheer costume—on the bed and wept. This was the worst day of her life since her mother had died.
Becky stayed with her and Andrew appeared with a tray of food from the refectory but neither of them felt hungry but they accepted his kindness and placed the food on her dressing table.
“What did you do to your hand?” asked Becky noticing the bruise that was appearing over the knuckles.
“I hit him, I think,” she sniffed.
“Where on the nose?”
“No in his gonads, I think.”
“You what?” she gasped and began laughing, “You decked a quarterback?”
“I think he fell down, why?”
“I can’t think of anyone who deserves a punch in the you know where, more than he does. Wait till I tell the others.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t.”
“Why? They’ll love it.”
“I don’t care, I don’t want anyone to know any part of me touched his disgusting body.”
Becky chuckled.
They finally got to shower and change and they even ate the rolls Andrew had brought them. Pauline was thinking it was too late put any makeup on and in fact all she wanted to do was go to bed and forget the day ever happened. Instead, a rap on her door meant she had to go and see who it was as she’d locked it in case any of the football team came to avenger her attack on Zac.
She was astonished to see Mr Uchiha was standing outside her door. “I’m sorry I caused you trouble, Sir.”
“D’you mind if I come in?”
“No,” she sniffed back the tears and stood aside for him to enter her room.
“It’s for me to apologise to you on behalf of the school.” He raised his hand to stop her interruption. “What those boys were thinking of, I do not know, but it brings the whole establishment into disrepute. I am punishing them severely and will probably expel Mr Kowalski as he seemed to be the ring leader.”
“Oh,” gasped Pauline.
“I’ve also decided to stop the Princess Project from today.”
“Oh, does that mean I have to leave and what about Becky and Sarah?”
“I’m calling an emergency meeting of the governors for next week and I’m going to tell them we’re going co-ed.”
“What, you’re going to have girls here?”
“We already have, Miss Burton, you and Sarah and Becky, so I think we’ll cope with a few more, don’t you?”
“I—I don’t know, it’s just that I thought you’d want me to go after all the fuss this...”
“What lose our best cheerleader—no way, José.”
She blushed.
Her phone rang and she glanced at it, to her astonishment it was Tim, her father. Ignoring the headmaster she answered it not knowing who might be actually calling from her father’s phone. If it was bad news, she might want Uchiha to stay.
“Hello?” she said anxiously.
“Hello Paulie,” said her father’s voice.
“Daddy, it’s you?”
“Yes, it’s me—can you talk?”
“Of course.”
“Good, is Becky with you?”
“No,” she said shaking her head in a reflex action.
“I hope she’s keeping an eye on my favourite girl.”
“She tries to,” said Pauline feeling tears run down her face.
“Good, you look just like your mother, d’you know that?”
“Do I?” a hundred thoughts were going through her head none of them making any sense. He knew she was dressing as a girl and he didn’t seem fazed by it.
“Yes, only prettier.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she said blushing as he chuckled.
“They’re moving me to a hospital nearer you, so you can come and see me more easily and today I managed to walk.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said as the tears rushed down her face.
“I just wanted to tell you.”
“I’m so glad you did, Daddy.”
“Yeah, well I have to go, it’s taken a bit out of me, but I wanted to let you know oh and I love you.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
“I know, Pauline, I know.” He rang off and she looked at the headmaster still sitting on her dressing table stool.
“That was your dad I take it?”
“He knows I’m a girl, he knows.”
“Yes he does.”
“You knew?”
“He called earlier on, asking about you. I told him that you were seeing a doctor for your gender condition. He said he understood and it explained quite a lot. He said he thought he’d dreamt you’d visited as a girl then when he spoke to the nurse on the unit, she told him he had a very lovely daughter who’d helped stabilise him when he was semi conscious.”
“You didn’t tell me?” she said angrily.
“He asked me not to because he was going to call you himself. I told him you were cheering for the football team and he was quite surprised at that, said you didn’t like vigorous exercise. I told him you were the head cheerleader and he said he obviously had some ground to make up with you.”
“But what if he doesn’t—like it?”
“He says it’s okay. Pauline, he’s going to take some time to recover and he wants you there to help him. He told me he’s finished with flying and that they’ve offered him a desk job when he recovers and he’s accepted because he wants to spend time with his daughter.”
“And they’re moving him here?”
“There’s a big military hospital about ten miles away, you can go and see him as often as you like.”
“And he wants me—he’s never wanted me before—I don’t know what to think.”
“I think your dad has had a life changing experience and wants to start again, with you.”
“Only because he can’t fly his wretched aeroplanes.”
“Actually, he said they thought he could but he’s decided that he needs to be there for you, so he’s giving up flying for you. I think they’re going to find him a job as a liaison officer between the RAF and the USAF.”
“Where this time?” Pauline wondered if she’d have to move again as soon as he was well.
“The military hospital is next to a big air force and army base, he seemed to think it would be there and he said he hoped it would be long enough for you stay here to continue your education.”
“What—I can stay here?”
“I’m rather hoping so, you see, I’m rather counting on you to be my first head girl.”
“What about Sarah or Becky—shouldn’t it be them, I’m a new comer who just upsets people.”
“They actually said you’d be a better choice—you’ve got more um—spirit, yes spirit.”
“You nearly said balls, didn’t you—well don’t worry, because as soon as I can I’m getting rid of them and I’m going to be a proper girl.”
Uchiha was blushing. “Yes I was going to say that. I apologise and while I hope you’ll resolve your gender situation sometime and we’ll help all we can, I think you should take your time and see how you really feel about more permanent changes.”
“But you asked me to be your head girl?”
“I did indeed, as you probably are already.”
“What, me?”
“Yes you, miss; the only reason we have such a good cheer team is because you got them up to scratch.”
“No, that was Ms Sanderdson, not me.”
“She said it was you, you really pushed yourself and they followed because they like you. They really do.”
“I can’t believe all this,” Pauline said sitting on the bed feeling totally bewildered.
“I couldn’t believe that right hook to Mr Kowalski’s um—“
“Balls?” offered Pauline and they both blushed and laughed.