Darin Dares

Chapter 1 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

This is the crunch time, the last moment in which I could declare turning up to school in a skirt was a prank. What I am about to say with shape how people will regard me in the future. I only hope that what I am doing isn't going to back-fire on me...

I had just reached the end of our road when I saw my mother drive past on her way to work. We waved to each other as she passed. I slowed my pace until she turned at the junction and disappeared out of site. Glancing at my watch it was exactly 08:18. I needed to be in school by 8:50. If I wasn’t in my classroom when the final bell rang at 8:55 I would be given a late mark in the register.

I counted to ten; just to make sure that my mother had gone before starting to run back to my house. I'm already two minutes behind schedule, but I have built in enough contingency to allow for some minor delays. Time won't become critical until I'm closer to the late bell.

In next to no time, I've unlocked our front door. I dropped my school bag in the hall and started unbutton my shirt as I sprinted up the stairs to my bedroom. I threw the top onto the bed and climbed onto the strategically placed chair that I had positioned before leaving earlier. It allows me access to the cupboard above my wardrobe where I keep my suitcase. I grabbed the handled and jumped from the chair, pulling the case with me, swinging it mid-air so that it lands on my bed, and almost bouncing back off due to its momentum.

Hidden inside is the alternative school uniform that I'll be wearing for today. I stripped naked as quickly as possible, not worrying about folding my clothes like I would normally. It has taken many weeks to pluck up the courage to even buy what I'm going to wear, and I've been debating if I should even go through with what I'm about to do.

I glance at the clock on my bedside cabinet. It is already 8:23 and I don't have time to stop and hesitate if I'm going to go through with my plan.

I turned and looked at my naked body in the full length mirror on my wall. I didn't like what I saw. The ugly lump of flesh dangling between my legs was filling me with disgust. Grabbing the panties from the case I rapidly pulled them up my legs. Pushing my male appendages into position so that they didn't protrude, I could finally look at myself with our being revolted. Even with my flat chest, I now looked feminine, at least in my eyes.

I didn't have time to admire my reflection. I picked up the white blouse and put it on. There wasn't much difference between the blouse and the shirt I had just removed. Both were made from a cotton/polyester fabric, similar in style and fairly plain, the major difference being the direction of the buttons. While I couldn't button these as fast as normal, they didn't give me a lot of trouble.

If all I changed was the blouse, I could probably get away without anybody noticing, especially since I didn't have a bra to wear underneath. However, I continued to dress in the grey box-pleated skirt. Glancing in the mirror to double check the length, I noted that it was just covering my knees, longer than the specified minimum.

I pulled the new socks up my legs, admiring the pretty patterns woven into the white fabric. There would be no mistaking these as being designed for a boy. I would have opted for a pair of tights or stockings if I could, but I was limited by what shoes I could obtain. I managed to find a pair at a car boot sale I had cycled to early one Sunday morning. They were slightly large, but fitted well enough with some insoles and if wearing socks. Most of my new uniform I bought cheaply from the supermarket, but shoes were slightly out of my price range. I got some strange looks buying the items, but seemed to get away with it.

Finally, I placed my most prized find on my head. At the same sale I also found a second-hand girls wig. It would be enough to fulfil the look. My actual hair is quite dark, almost black, and very short. The wig was more of a chestnut brown and reached down to my shoulders in a classic bob style.

With my shoes in my hand, I returned downstairs. If I was going to get to school on time, I would need to get my skates on. Quite literally in this case as I pulled my in-liners out from under the stairs. My school is about a mile away and I usually walk it. On average it takes me twenty minutes, although I have run it in fifteen on a few occasions. After securing the skates to my feet, I positioned my knee and elbow pads and donned my helmet. Making sure my shoes were in my school bag, I left, locking the door behind me at 8:34. I would be cutting it fine.

The closer I got to the school, the finer my margin for error on my timings became. I had a five minute window for leaving the house, which had almost expired. I needed to get in the school gates before they were closed and locked at 8:50, but not too early so that there would be a lot of students entering. From previous estimation I needed to leave it to the last minute before arriving.

With 47 seconds remaining, I turned the last bend and gained sight of the school entrance. The last couple of pupils were just going past the teacher on duty. Using the downhill gradient to my advantage, I increased my speed, tucking my body into an aerodynamic stance. Mr Handley looked around to see if there were any more students, and I could see the look of alarm come to his face as he spotted my extremely rapid approach.

Mr Handley has only just started this term, having been employed to cover for another teacher on maternity leave. I doubt he would know my reputation, and even if he did it would be by name only. He wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd, especially as I'm usually in attendance as a boy.

The last time I was using my skates because I was late, Mr Walsh was on duty and he locked the gate before I could arrive, just to be spiteful. If you don't make it in time you have to go in through a different entrance and sign in at reception, which is an automatic late mark, even if registration hasn't been taken.

I took a third option upon seeing the locked gate. At that time the gardeners were on site and had left a ramp going up onto their trailer that they use for their ride on lawn mowers. I used the combination of my speed and their ramp to launch myself into the air. To the horrified look of Mr Walsh, and cheers of fellow students, I was able to vault myself over the six foot iron railings, landing with a perfect roll inside school grounds. That particular stunt had landed me a week’s detention, but the admiration of a large chunk of the school populous.

I didn't fancy trying a repeat of that stunt today, especially since there were no ramps available this time. Luckily, even though the bell was sounding in the background, Mr Handley was waiting for me. I think he may have been afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop.

Bending my knees, I placed my left foot behind me and firmly planted the rubber stop on my toes onto the tarmac. Stretching out my arms for balance I rapidly braked, bringing my speed low enough to grab the last railing and slingshot myself through the gate to spin to a graceful halt just inside school grounds.

The teacher just looked on in amazement as he shook his head and locked the gate behind me. I was grinning widely having made it inside without incident. While going to reception would serve my purposes of getting noticed, I would much prefer the wider audience of my home room.

"Please, don't do that again, young lady," he said as I stooped and untied my laces. Mr Handley, having given me a short lecture on safety and timekeeping while I put my shoes on, disappeared into the building, with me following.

I smiled as I walked the now almost deserted corridors. The few students remaining were dashing to their classrooms, and I didn't see anybody I knew. I came to a halt just outside my own classroom door. I could hear my teacher, Mr Brett, already calling out names. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door just as the final bell started to sound.

Time seemed to stop as I stood in the doorway, all eyes in my direction. I had executed my plan to perfection. I had arrived unrecognised and unchallenged to my classroom. Whatever happened from now on was out of my control. I just hoped the outcome would be manageable.

I was fully prepared for spontaneous laughter, but instead I was greeted by silence. Keeping my head high and eyes forward, I ignored the people around me and walked to my desk. The sniggering and whispering had started. A woof whistle was blown from behind me. I didn't see who, but I could guess.

"Silence!" Mr Brett commanded, causing the room to fall quiet. "Darin Mitchell, why are you dressed like that?"

"I would have preferred to wear a nice light summer dress, but that isn't part of the school uniform," I jokingly replied, trying not to show my nerves.

"Neither is what you are wearing, young man."

I glanced around the room, noting the attire of my fellow students. The girls outnumber the boys ten to seven, excluding myself. The girls can wear either skirts or trousers.

"I count six other people in this room with near identical outfits. If the rules have been changed, then I'm not the only person who has failed to comply."

"They are girls, Mr Mitchell. You are not."

This is the crunch time, the last moment in which I could declare this as a prank and back out. What I am about to say with shape how people will regard me in the future. I let the silence remain for a few moments as I pluck up the final piece of courage to go all the way.

"That, Sir, is debateable. Despite having seen me naked in the showers, a number of the boys in this class regularly accuse me of being a girl. Having done some research on the subject of gender, and giving the matter much consideration, I think that they may be right. About the only thing I have in common with the boys is that I can theoretically pee standing up if I wanted to. I'm not sure that alone is enough to categorise me as a boy, especially as I suspect some girls could achieve that feat with enough practice."

I'm interrupted by giggling from a couple of the girls, which is quickly silenced by an annoyed look by the teacher. I took the opportunity to glance around the room. I can see a mixture of worried and angry looks from those who have been picking on me. The school doesn't take kindly to bullying and not only am I breaking gender boundaries, I'm also breaking the taboo of snitching on my fellow students.

I decided to press on, "Seriously though, gender can be measured by a lot more than physical characteristics alone. It can also be the way people think, feel, and interact with others. School rules provide two options for presenting oneself, the boy's uniform and the girl's uniform. I don't know exactly which category is most appropriate for me, so I am opting for the one I think I fit into best.

"So your sudden change of sex has nothing to do with having several coursework assignments due today? I've seen many attempts at getting out of homework, but getting yourself sent home isn't one that usually works," Mr Brett replied. The unwelcome element of sarcasm in his voice didn't bode well.

Pulling my exercise books out of my bag I place them on the table in front of me. "I have my assignments here. They are complete and I can hand them in now if required. I'm well aware that I'll probably get sent home, so I made sure to have everything done in advance so I wouldn't miss any deadlines."

A slight grin appeared on my teachers face as he declared, "Of course, it's not guaranteed that you will be sent home. That is only one option. You may have to stay dressed like that for the rest of the day, unless you brought a change of clothing."

I could see that he was fishing to see which punishment would cause me the most discomfort. He was obviously assuming that I was depending on being sent home or would want to change out of what I was wearing.

"No, I didn't bring any other clothing, and if I wasn't prepared to spend the day dressed like this, I wouldn't have come like this in the first place. It really doesn't matter if 8 people or 800 see me dressed like this. The fact everybody in this room has seen me is enough for the grapevine to spread the news to the rest of the school."

I look round the room at my fellow students. I can see they are eager to talk about my appearance, but can't do so while Mr Brett is present.

"Let us see what the headmistress has to say on the matter," Mr Brett reasoned, obviously not wanting to make a decision himself. His next action was to complete the register before escorting me out of the room. We stopped briefly so that he could ask the teacher in the neighbouring classroom to keep an ear out for my class before continuing onto the front office in silence.

Darin Dares

Chapter 2 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

The headmistress then proceeded to circle me, observing my appearance from all angles. "Exactly what do you think you are doing coming dressed in that ridiculous outfit?"

Mrs Geraldine Davis is a very austere woman who by her appearance would seem to be at or close to retirement age. Her greying hair is often wrapped into a tight bun on the back of her head. Her appearance is always smart and business-like and I have never seen her wear any form or trousers or leggings. Even outside of school on the few occasions I have spotted her shopping in town, she is always in a skirt or a dress. Today she was wearing one of her more formal suits in a dark red pinstripe material, the straight skirt reaching mid calf.

After arriving at the office, Mr Brett had asked to see Mrs Davis. I was left sitting in the reception while he disappeared into the office. After what seemed like an age, but in fact was only a couple of minutes, the two of them emerged. Mr Brett disappeared off in the direction of his classroom and I was instructed to follow Mrs Davis into her office and then to stand in the middle of the room facing her desk.

The headmistress then proceeded to circle me, observing my appearance from all angles. I focused my attention on the plant stood on top of a filing cabinet behind her desk, admiring the pale pink flowers.

"Exactly what do you think you are doing coming dressed in that ridiculous outfit?" She asked. "It's obvious you want to draw attention to yourself, but why?"

"Following your advice, Ma'am," I answered.

"Oh, what advice would that be? I don't remember telling you to disobey school rules."

"Last time I was in your office it was because I was fighting. I had hit Gregory because he was teasing me. You rightly told me that I needed to adjust my attitude and re-evaluate how I should react to such situations. I wouldn't admit what bothered me so much at the time, but now I'm willing to say he was taunting me for my lack of masculinity. I realise that calling a boy a girl is a common insult and that shouldn't bother me. The trouble is it did bother me, because deep down I know he's right. I have been trying to deny my feminine traits and overcompensate, often using violence, or the threat thereof, where inappropriate. If it was just Greg, then perhaps I could have ignored it, but I seem to be constantly reminded of my girlish behaviour. Over the past few weeks I have been trying to stop trying to act how I think everybody expects me to behave, and instead just let things go and just act naturally."

Mrs Davis Circled back round in front of me and perched herself on the edge of her desk. "While I find it commendable that you want to embrace your more feminine side, I think you are taking things to the extreme here, young man."

I forced myself to look directly into her eyes, the one place I found to be the most uncomfortable, especially as I could feel my eyes starting to water, "That's just it. I'm not a young man. Sure, I'm physically male, but that's where anything manly about me stops. At the very minimum I would classify myself as gender variant. I would even go as far as saying I'm probably classifiable as transgendered. I'm well aware that I can't just decide to change gender without medical backing. However, to get such backing I need to be seen by a psychiatrist, preferably one with experience in gender identity issues. The trouble I have is that my parents won't take me seriously and therefore won't take me to a doctor. I've tried speaking to them and they simply tell me not to be ridiculous. I figured it would be difficult for them to ignore me when they find out I came to school dressed like this."

"So you want me to suspend or even expel you in order to force the issue?" The headmistress clarified.

"If necessary, yes, but I would rather not have a punishment that affected my permanent record. However, that is up to you. Frankly, I find it grossly unfair that the uniform rules allow the girls to come dressed as boys if they want, but not the other way round. If I was female and I came to school dressed as a boy we wouldn’t be having this conversation now."

Mrs Davis thought for a few minutes before replying, "Actually I have sent a girl home before for being too masculine looking. However, she turned up with a crew cut, ripped jeans, and a ring through her nose, so it didn't matter what her gender was. At least you have mostly made an effort to comply with the rules."

"Mostly?" I queried. "I thought I followed them to the letter? What am I wearing that isn't allowable under the rules for girls?"

"Your wig: head coverings can only be worn for medical or religious purposes. As you have neither a doctor’s note, nor a letter from your parents, strictly speaking you can't wear that wig."

I lift the hairpiece from my head, "I can make do without this if needed. I mainly wore it for safety on the way here so I wasn't challenged. The fact I made it all the way to my classroom without anybody twigging anything was wrong proves it was worthwhile. I spoke with Mr Handley for several minutes and he didn't realise I'm male."

I watched Mrs Davis raise her eyebrows as she said, "So that was you on the skates this morning. I heard Mr Handley talking about it to the secretary. When he said he had to tell off a kid on skates I immediately thought of you, but then he described a girl."

"Sorry about that, I had to leave for school as a boy and return home after Mum left for work. I know you banned me from skating, but it was the only way to get here on time. Besides, I had to minimise the time in which anybody could recognise me, so I deliberately cut it close."

The headmistress paced her office for a few minutes before asking, "What would you do if I simply gave you an in-school detention, so that I didn't need to inform your parents, and made you stay dressed l like that, minus the wig?"

I thought for a moment before responding, "I would dutifully turn up and serve my detention. Then we would end up having this same conversation tomorrow morning when I turn up in the same uniform again. Presumably the punishment would be the same or worse each day. If I accumulate enough in-school detentions then you have to issue me with an after-school detention which requires a letter home. Your only way to thwart that would to be not to issue me with any punishment and let me come to school as a girl."

"As much as that would be interesting to watch," Mrs Davis considered, "I can't simply let you walk around as a girl, and I certainly cannot let you use the girl's bathrooms or changing room."

"I'm not asking for access. I fully accept that there is no way I could possibly use the girl's changing room, and I'm not sure I would be comfortable changing in front of the other girls anyway with my deformity. I can barely stand to look it at myself without others having to see it. As for the bathrooms, I very rarely have needed to use the facilities here. I don't tend to drink a lot of liquid during the day and can usually wait until I get home. The truth is I don't like using the boy's room so avoid it. I'm way to self-conscious to use a urinal. I can't pee with anybody watching and I'm always afraid of splashing myself. If I do go, then I use the cubicle, but doing so runs the risk of getting teased for acting like a girl."

I paused for a moment and then added, "That is another thing. From now on I will be refusing to use the boy's changing room during P.E. I'll happily continue to participate in lessons, even if that means doing the sports with the boys instead of the girls, but only if alternative arrangements can be made."

"I wish you would have talked to someone before taking such drastic action," Mrs Davis said, "couldn't you have talked to one of the teachers? We do have a school counsellor you know."

I shivered at the thought of having to talk with Mrs Bates. She acted as both the school counsellor and a part-time teacher teaching psychology. Mrs Davis raised her eyebrows at my involuntary movement.

"Most of my teachers are male, and I don't feel comfortable talking to them about this issue. The only female teacher I would consider talking too is on maternity leave. As for Mrs Bates," I paused thinking how best to word it without offending. "There is a saying: those who can, do, and those who can't, teach. I can't comment on her standard of teaching, as I've never been in one of her lessons, but I have heard that she is gender biased in favour of boys. I have also heard some of the girls complain that she is unsympathetic. That alone makes be believe talking to her would be unwise."

"Mrs Bates is a professional, I'm sure she would treat you with respect. I think you should at least set up an appointment with her," Mrs Davis replied.

"No way, I have enough issues as it is without her making things worse." I looked at Mrs Davis. She didn't look convinced. Taking a deep breath I decided to elaborate, "I have reason to believe that Mrs Bates is highly homophobic, and given her bias would probably be transphobic as well. Yes, she may try and act professionally when laying out the facts, but I've witnessed firsthand the damage she can do by giving biased advice."

Mrs Davis wasn't happy with my opinion, and I was initially reluctant to say further. After several minutes of coaxing, I finally explain, "One of my male classmates was questioning his sexuality. He went to her. Luckily I found him afterwards before he could do something stupid. He was suffering from depression and had hid himself behind the sports hall crying his eyes out. It took me quite a while to calm him down. If it wasn't for the fact I was able to get his trust by showing him I was wearing feminine underwear, thereby giving him mutually assured destruction, I dread to think what would happen. The only reason there hasn't been a formal complaint is that he's too scared to come out of the closet, although that may change depending on the reaction to me. He is the only student who knew about my gender issues before today. I was tempted to go to her myself, out myself, and record the conversation as evidence, but I decided that would be a bad idea. I didn't want everyone to think that I was making my own problems up just to expose her, when I genuinely have issues I need to work through."

Mrs Davis rounded her desk at sat down. She sat for several minutes in deep thought. After some careful consideration she declared that she needed more time to think about the subject and sent me back to my lessons with a note informing my teachers that she was aware of my appearance and I was to continue as normal pending a decision on my behaviour. She also told me that she would be investigating what I said.

~o~O~o~

It was already a third of the way into the first lesson of the day when I opened the door to my English class. Samantha, one of my fellow students, was reading out loud to the class. This was something that often happened in class, the teacher, Mr Philips, getting us all to read in turn. The room fell silent as I entered. I had dropped my wig off at my locker on the way, so I now looked less like a girl, and more like a boy in a dress.

"Sorry I'm late," I said as I held the note out for the teacher, "I had to go to the office."

He glanced at the note, returned it to me, and instructed me to take my seat. I sat down next to Kenny, and he showed me which page and paragraph we were on. Samantha continued to read to the end of the page where Penny took over for the next few pages. I had already read the book to its end, so it didn't matter that I had missed a bit. It wouldn't be long until it would be my turn to read.

Normally I don't put much feeling into my oration. I try not to sound flat and monotonous, but at the same time I deliberately try to keep emotion out of my voice. I usually try and force myself to talk deeper than my natural inflection. Today, I do the opposite. No longer trying to act masculine, I instead use the full range of my voice. When reading out some of the dialog I attempt to use different voices, putting on higher pitches for the female characters. I'm so enjoying myself I can hardly keep the grin off my face, and it’s not until I reach the end of the chapter do I realise that I should have stopped ten pages ago. I had become so absorbed into what I was doing I completely lost track of my surroundings.

I stop, and for the first time look up around the room. The looks of shock and puzzlement that greet me catch me by surprise.

"OK, who are you and what have you done with Darin?" Mr Philips asked.

"What?" I replied.

I'm instructed to stand up and stand on one leg. I'm then asked to walk across the room and back. Finally I had to keep my head still but follow Mr Phillips pen with my eyes as he moved it from side to side. I can tell a sobriety test when I see one and I wonder if my teacher seriously thinks I'm drunk or high. I may be a lot happier than normal with being in a skirt, but I didn't think I was behaving massively out of the ordinary.

"Don't worry," Kevin interjected, "she's always like this when she stops worrying about whether people perceive if she is a girl or a boy. Darin always gets sullen and depressed when trying to put on a masculine front, which is what you normally see."

Kevin is one of the few people who know my secret having found out several weeks previously. He was the boy I mentioned to Mrs Davis. After seeing the school counsellor, he was very upset and hiding behind the sports block. I slipped back there myself as I wanted some alone time. I heard his sobs and went to investigate. He wouldn't tell me what was wrong at first. I finally persuaded him that he could trust me by pulling the waist band of my panties out of the top of my trousers. Once he saw that I was wearing feminine underwear he started to open up. Once he came out to me, I decided to explain my own predicament. While friendly to one another, we were never very close friends until the incident. Since then we have spent quite a bit of time together talking, and now that he knows my secret, I tend to relax in his presence as I don't have to hide my natural tendencies.

Mr Philips raised his eyebrows at Kevin's pronoun usage. I was too busy blushing to pay attention to the glances going back and forth between the other students. The teacher decided not to press the matter any further, and the lesson continued as normal.

At the end of the lesson, Kevin and I packed up our books and walked together down the corridor towards the maths department.

"You certainly don't do things by half do you," Kevin said. I smiled and he continued, "I've got your back if needed. It might be best if you don't go anywhere alone for the moment. Especially anywhere teachers aren't likely to be present, such as the bathrooms."

I nod and thank him as we arrive at our next class. Mr Elliott stares at me as I enter. I hand him the note from the headmistress which he reads. He doesn't say anything and simply hands the paper back to me. I take my usual seat. A few different people are in this class from my previous one, and there are some double takes as the room fills. A few comments and a wolf whistle occur before Mr Elliott settles the class down for an hour of trigonometry. Once again I get strange looks as I appear to be a lot bubblier in personality than usual. I'm genuinely more happy today than most. Some of it is simply the novelty of spending the day as a girl. I'm sure once I get used to it, the effect will diminish. I do my best not to let it distract me from completing my lessons. If anything my increased comfort level helps me work.

~o~O~o~

At ten minutes past eleven the bell sounded for the morning break. We have twenty minutes until the final hour’s lesson before lunch. Kevin escorted me to our common room where he left me in order to use the bathroom. I made myself comfortable on one of the grey plastic chairs scattered around the room. Taking my reading book out, I started pretending to look at it while I surveyed the room for possible danger.

I noticed one of the teachers walking past in the corridor. This particular room has windows in the wall to the corridor so that it is possible to see in and out. There are blinds that can be closed when in use as a classroom, but this particular room isn't used for lessons very often.

I noted that a group of the girls I know had gathered on the opposite side of the room, and they appeared to be in a huddle discussing something. By the sly glances in my direction, I suspected that they are up to something and that it involved me. I don't have long to wait before a bunch of them have gathered around me and start to ask questions. They started off by asking me how I like what I'm wearing, and then proceeded to draw me in on the more general subject of fashion.

I wondered where this was leading, but join in the conversation all the same. It was not long before I realised what they were up to. The conversation gradually gets more girly as the break continues, the topic of conversation getting wider to cover boys.

I was expecting this to happen at some point. I knew it would only be a matter of time before my sexuality was questioned. I decided not to openly confirm or deny anything. The truth is I haven't worked out my orientation. I admit to finding some of the boy bands cute, but also gush over some of the female pop stars in the charts.

I'm surprised at how quickly the twenty minutes passed. The sound of the bell catches me off guard and I had to dash to my next lesson. The reactions in the French class go similar to the previous period. There is some minor disturbance at the beginning by the few individuals who have yet to encounter me, but by this point I've already been seen most of my fellow students. News of my attire has also rapidly spread during break, so there is less surprise, as even those who haven't seen me have heard what I'm wearing. I did notice a higher than usual amount of foot traffic passing the common room window at break.

At lunch I am again surrounded by a group of girls. This time it is more obvious that they are trying to have fun embarrassing me. I do find talking about feminine hygiene products awkward, but at the same time I'm interested in them from an intellectual point of view. When questioned, I simply point out that I won't be requiring them any time soon. I try not to blush too much. I could tell that some of the girls were finding it just as discomforting as I am. Out of the seven girls in the group, only three were actively participating in this part of the discussion.

We were interrupted by the tannoy calling us to the canteen as it was our turn to get lunch. So that there isn't a rush all at once each year is called in turn on a rota. While everybody heads to eat, I instead slip outside with my packed lunch. While I can sit and eat it in the canteen, I prefer to go outside. The earlier wind has died down and the temperature has been rising all morning. As I leave I slip my wig back on so that I won't be as easily recognised. I found some shade under a tree and ate my lunch in peace. I positioned myself so that my back was to the bulk of foot traffic in the hope that I'll be difficult to spot from behind. Kevin and John came and sat nearby to make sure I'm not harassed.

I do have a minor scare when one of the resident troublemakers, Gary, approached the two boys and asked where I am in not so pleasant terms. He failed to notice me sat nearby and the two boys send him on his way. I can see Kevin is particularly angry at the homophobic undertones, and I worried for a second that things might turn violent. I managed to get to the end of lunch without further trouble. My tactic of sitting facing away from people with my wig on seems to be enough so that I'm not recognised. While the wig is hot to wear, it is a minor inconvenience compared to getting by without it. While I'm in the shade it isn't too bad.

I found it amusing that the majority of the passing conversation is about me, yet nobody who walked by realised that the subject of their discussion is sat close by.

I still had yet to hear back from Mrs Davis and Mr Brett does not say anything when he calls the afternoon register after lunch. I went to my science class as normal.

Authors note: This is a revised version of the original posting. The errors mentioned in the comments have now been corrected.

Darin Dares

Chapter 3 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

My happy mood was soon being rapidly eroded away as I found small balls of wet paper hitting me in the back of my head and a few stray shots whizzing past my head.

The final lesson of the day is the one I have been dreading the most. Most of the classes I attend are split by ability level and I'm in the top class for most of my subjects. In general the level of intelligence in these classes is higher and there are proportionally fewer troublemakers. There are a couple of people in my science class that worry me as potential bullies, but they are in the minority.

The last period for the day was History. This particular lesson is not done by ability level and there are a number of students that like to cause problems. Also, this is one of the few classes I attend that has a women teacher. Mrs Baker is fairly young, I would guess late twenties and not very tall. Despite her best efforts she is unable to maintain control of her classes. I don't know why she is unable to gain the respect of the students. It seems she has a reputation of not being able to control the class and this works against her as it gives confidence to the troublemakers to stand up to her. No matter how loudly she shouts, it doesn't seem to have much effect. She is often hoarse by the end of the day.

It doesn't help that I'm one of the last people to arrive at the classroom. The science lab I came from is the furthest and I didn't get out of the previous lesson very promptly. I was also delayed in the corridor. One of the girls in front of me dropped the books she was carrying and caused a traffic jam while she recovered from her slip.

Mrs Baker already looked stressed by the time I arrived, and I don't think my appearance helped. I offered to show her the note, but she declined to read it. I guess by now all my teachers were aware of my current status without needing the explanation.

I could tell it was going to get bad when Gary immediately started cat calling me as soon as I was in the door. Mrs Baker shouted at him, but he didn't seem to pay her much attention. Quite a few of the other students were laughing as well. The teacher called for quiet and the noise level fell to a lower level, but there was still a lot of whispering going on.

My happy mood was soon being rapidly eroded away as I found small balls of wet paper hitting me in the back of my head and a few stray shots whizzing past my head. I didn't need to look round to guess who was using a broken biro as a makeshift pea-shooter. Every time Mrs Baker turned her back more spit-wads of paper flew my direction.

The teacher turned round just in time to witness a large ball of paper hit me square in the back of the head. As I'm leant forward over my book, the projectile bounced upwards, its forward momentum keeping it moving towards the front of the class. Mrs Baker immediately demanded to know who through it, as she picked it up. It didn't take her more than a few seconds to focus on the prime suspect and start threatening detentions.

The projectiles stopped for a few minutes as the teacher went back to writing on the whiteboard. It was not long before a second ball of paper bounced off me head.

"Ouch! Pack that in," I shouted as I turned round angrily.

"What’s the matter, is it your time of the month?" Gary taunted me.

"That is not funny, Mr Prentiss," Mrs Baker yelled at Gary. "Apologise this instant."

I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was livid without needing to see her body language. I did however notice that several of the girls were also pretty annoyed with the comment.

"Sorry, I was forgetting you're not a real girl, just a sissy fag wannabe," Gary responded.

I was totally fuming now, and found myself standing with my fists clenched practically growling at the insult.

"Don't get your knickers is a twist," Gary continued, "What? Are you planning on hitting me, or just pulling on my hair like a little girl while trying to scratch me with non-existent nails?"

"Darin, Sit Down! Gary, do you want to end up in Mrs Davis's office?" Mrs Baker screamed.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," a new voice stated from the doorway. With everybody, the teacher included, focused on the squabble going on, none of us had noticed Mrs Davis appear at the doorway and enter the room.

"Mr Prentiss, I find your attitude and lack of respect for female authority figures disturbing. Mrs Baker shouldn't need to tell you not to do something more than once, and I don't think any of the girls here are impressed with your comments. I do hope you weren't planning on dating any time soon, as I think you may just have scuppered any chances of getting a girlfriend. Given your behaviour perhaps you would like to join Miss Mitchell in skirts for a while?" Mrs Davis stated. The use of a female pronoun when referring to me caught me off guard, and actually took the edge off my anger for a second.

"You can't do that! It's illegal," Gary protested strongly.

"Pity," Mrs Davis continued, "I think you'd look so cute in a little frilly pink dress. Your hair might just be long enough for pigtails. While you're right in that I can't force you into doing it, I can offer it as an alternative punishment."

This had the whole room laughing. Gary visibly shrunk into his chair at the remarks. Mrs Davis was pushing the limit of what she could get away with I think. There is a fine line between forcing discipline and forcing humiliation, and while the former is acceptable, the latter is not.

"Gary, please report to my office at the end of the lesson. If I hear that you have been anything less than the perfect student for the rest of the period, you'll find yourself begging to be let off as lightly as wearing a silly outfit. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mrs Davis," Gary replied.

"Darin, I need to discuss your conduct and appearance today. Please collect your things and come with me," the headmistress instructed. I immediately complied, now very worried about being called out of the lesson. Mrs Davis apologised for her interruption to Mrs Baker before leading me out into the corridor. I could hear Mrs Baker berating the class again as we walked away. I couldn't quite hear what she said, but found out later from Kevin that she was complaining about how embarrassing it was that Mrs Davis had to come in before they would shut up and listen to her.

~o~O~o~

"Relax," Mrs Davis stated as we walked towards her office, "I didn't pull you out because you're in trouble. I thought there might be problems so decided to station myself outside the room just in case. I could see you were on the point of losing it and didn't fancy having to write you up for hitting someone, even if they did deserve it."

"You're determined not to have to call my parents, aren't you," I accused.

"Darin, if I do get involved with your family dispute, I would rather it be on a positive attitude than a negative one. I’d prefer you try to work this out with them first though."

"I normally change out of my uniform with I get home, but I fully intend to be wearing either this or a dress when my parents get home," I state. "I hope to be able to come dressed like this again tomorrow, but if they catch me wearing this then it will probably be confiscated."

We arrived at her office, and I took a seat opposite the headmistress at her desk.

"If you do turn up tomorrow in a skirt, then that won't actually be a problem. As I said, you are not in trouble. I have decided that you made a valid argument this morning. You did break the dress code, for which I hereby issue a warning, but the dress code itself is in breach of the equality and diversity policy, which takes precedence. We have to treat all genders, races and nationalities equally. By allowing girls to wear a wider range of clothing than boys, we are creating an inequality in contradiction to the principal of the policy. Therefore I uphold your complaint and I'm here by allowing any boy to attend in skirts if he so wishes, thereby removing the bias."

I sat there in shock, "You mean I can continue to come to school as a girl?"

Mrs Davis clarified, "You can continue to come dressed as a girl, but you will officially still be regarded and treated as a boy until we are told we must do otherwise by a qualified medical professional. Officially that means we continue to use your legal name, unless it gets changed, and have to use male pronouns in any correspondence. That doesn't mean we can't use a feminine nickname and pronouns unofficially."

I think about this for a moment, "I will certainly be taking you up on that offer. My parents might prevent me from turning up dressed as a girl, but they can't stop me changing into a skirt once I arrive, even if that does mean using the boy's toilets to do so. I have a spare one in my locker for tomorrow. I could change when I arrive if there was time, or even at the end of P.E. third period. There wouldn't be much point changing at break right before P.E. Spending Lunch time and the afternoon as a girl would be better than being in trousers all day."

"Does that mean you will actually be taking part? You said earlier you were planning on refusing, which would land you in trouble. We can't excuse you without a doctor’s note."

"I haven't decided yet," I admitted with a sigh. "So far, apart from some verbal jibes, I haven't gotten into any fights. I think tomorrow in the changing rooms could become a flash point, especially if I'm dressed as I am now. I can hold my own one on one, and I know I will have a couple of the boy's backing me up if a fight starts, but I'm still scared things could get out of hand real quick. The P.E. teachers don't like coming into the changing rooms while we are changing, which given the current political climate regarding potential paedophilia I can fully understand. However that does leave me vulnerable. I also hate having to undress in there. I'm seriously thinking about locking myself in the toilet cubicle to change and when it’s time to shower doing so while still in my P.E. kit. I'd be making myself an ever bigger target for ridicule and laugher for doing it, but I'm not sure I could cope any how else."

"I'll ask the P.E. teachers to keep an ear out for trouble. They'll enter the changing rooms if they think the is a fight going on, so simply scream loud enough if you think you're in danger. Unfortunately that is as far as I can help you at the moment."

"Thank you, I understand. I'm actually very relieved and slightly surprised that you have been as kind as you have been," I declared.

"I've witnessed the results of depression and bully first hand. I had a student commit suicide at a previous school where I worked. I vowed to never let that happen again, and I'm always on the lookout for students who might be at risk. Your teachers have noticed that you don't seem to interact with other students much, hardly say anything in lessons, and very rarely smile. If it wasn't for your growing friendship with Kevin over the past few weeks then you would have been scheduled to see Mrs Bates already," Mrs Davis stated causing me to shudder at the thought of seeing our school counsellor.

A puzzled expression came to the headmistresses face before her eyebrows rose in revelation, "Mr Phillips was very surprised by you behaviour this morning, saying he has never seen you so happy and relaxed. He said Kevin suggested this was your normal behaviour when presenting as a girl, and therefore he must have known about you beforehand. You said this morning that there was only one student with prior knowledge about you: the person you had to comfort after speaking to Mrs Bates. I may be jumping to conclusions here, but I'm thinking Kevin might be the person you were talking about earlier."

I felt my cheeks burning slightly. It had not been my intention to out my friend. I opted to stay quiet, neither confirming nor denying her assumption.

Seeing that I wasn't going to break confidence, Mrs Davis broke the awkward silence, "I have investigated your claims regarding Mrs Bates. I have a number of trusted students who I can go to for honest opinions, and they too perceived a bias. I even sent one of the sixth form drama students to her to ask advice regarding homosexual feelings, and we were both disappointed with the results. I have subsequently spoken to Mrs Bates, and she will be attending some additional training courses in the coming weeks. I take student wellbeing very seriously, and I want to make sure that everybody on staff is best able to do what is needed."

"My friend will be pleased to hear that," I replied. "I will let him know what you said. He may be willing to speak to you about it."

Mrs Davis nodded and said, "One of the reasons I decided to let you come dressed as you are is because I think it may be in your best interests. I have been watching you from a distance all day, and after speaking with your teachers, the general opinion is that you seem to be a lot more alive today. You seemed have talked to more people today than you have all term, you’ve been laughing and smiling and nobody can remember the last time you did that. Your attitude and general demeanour today has been much more positive than usual, and if letting you dress as a girl is the price for that, then I'm willing to adjust the rules a fraction."

I smiled in return, just relieved that I'm at least being taken seriously for once.

"That brings me to the other reason why I took you out of class," Mrs Davis said. "I fear that you could potentially be in danger at leaving off time if any of your fellow students do decide to take issue with you. I can't let you leave early without parental notification or consent, but I can let you stand at the gates, with you skates on, ready to depart as soon as the final bell rings. That will give you a at least a couple of minutes head start by the time everybody has gotten out of their lessons and out the door. I also suspect that Mrs Baker will be detaining her class as long as long as she is allowed after the bell, which will give you another five minutes lead over the people who were giving you trouble earlier. Gary will be even later once I have a word with him about his behaviour."

Teachers are allowed to prolong lessons by five minutes at the end of the day for bad behaviour. Longer detentions have to be served in lunch or break times. If after school detentions are needed, then parents have to be informed, especially as it could results in changes to transport arrangements for some students, and cause worry to some parents if their children are late home.

As there is still some time left before the end of the day, I'm told to sit at a spare desk in the main school office and read my history textbook. I do as instructed, and as arranged, pack up several minutes before the end of the period so that I can be ready to leave on the bell. As soon as it sounded, I rolled out of the gates in the direction of home, as fast as safely possible. I don't think I'm in danger, but it’s possible that somebody on a bike could catch up with me if they wanted too.

Darin Dares

Chapter 4 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

I'm at the age where I'm supposed to become rebellious. I didn't fancy going goth or grungy, so I decided to be different and go girly instead.

The journey home was uneventful. I am able to reach my road without anybody yelling or attacking me. With my wig on, nobody seems to notice me. A few of my fellow students overtook me by bike, but they don't stop.

As I glided along I noticed our neighbour, Mrs Perkins, was out in her front garden deadheading her roses. She glanced in my direction, but failed to recognise me. I took a quick left into my driveway and swiftly skated down the side of the semi-detached house. Our driveway leads to a garage at the back of the house next to the back garden. I unlocked the back door and sat on the doorstep to take off my skates. I carried them indoors with me and I headed to my bedroom.

It was still quite hot, so I decided to take advantage of the warm weather and spend the rest of the afternoon outside. As we couldn't cut the grass at the weekend due to showers, I chose to do that that now. I took off my school clothes and put on a pale yellow summer dress and a pair of white tennis shoes. I lifted my mattress and let it slide off the side of the bed. I carefully laid the uniform I had been wearing on the bed base and pulled the mattress back into position, gently putting it down so as not to crease the clothing underneath. I did this as I am expecting a big argument when my parents get home. I wanted to be able to wear the uniform again the next day and hoped that it will fail to be found and confiscated.

I headed to my parents bedroom and borrowed my mother’s sun hat. It is a straw hat with a very wide brim. It will keep the sun off me while I work. I stepped out into the back garden and across to the shed. Our back garden is surrounded by six foot fencing on two sides, the other two sides being the house and the garage. This means it is secluded and I can only be seen from the upstairs windows of the neighbouring houses, should anybody be there, and then only from certain angles.

I plug in the electric lawnmower in a socket in the kitchen and proceed to mow the back lawn. This only takes me about 10 minutes to cut the small lawn. The back garden is roughly square and is half taken up with paving and a greenhouse.

Up until now I haven't been seen dressed by the neighbours. I could have still changed back into boy mode. However, one of the arguments my parents have against me is that they won't let me dress in case the neighbours see me. I am about to circumvent that argument by letting that happen.

Heading through the house I put an extension cord out the front window. I noted that Mrs Perkins was still outside as I did so. I pulled the lawnmower round to the front of the house and plugged it into the cable hanging out the window. I see Mrs Perkins looking over at me. I smiled and headed over to speak to her.

"Hi, would you like me to mow your lawn while I do ours?" I asked. Our two houses are semi-detached. Mrs Perkins, who I believe to be in her eighties, lives alone. She has had her back garden paved over for lower maintenance, but still has a front lawn that we usually mow for her. Our lawns are connected and form one large piece of grass. The boundaries of the properties on our road are separated by ornate chains hung from two foot high posts. By removing some of the chains, I can mow both lawns at once.

"I almost didn't recognise you, Darin," Mrs Perkins replied. "That's a very unusual outfit you're wearing. It's not very often you see girls in dresses these days, let alone boys."

"In this heat it's actually the most comfortable thing to wear. It’s lighter in weight than shorts and a t-shirt, while also being a looser fit. I would wear dresses more often, but my parents don't let me. They are probably going to go ballistic when they find out."

"I won't mention seeing you dressed up in that case," my neighbour declared. "Why are you wearing that if you know you'll get in trouble?"

"I'm at the age where I'm supposed to become rebellious. I didn't fancy going goth or grungy, so I decided to be different and go girly instead," I joked. Turning slightly more serious I added, "I've always been a bit on the girly side, I'm just taking that to its logical extreme."

Mrs Perkins picked up the cuttings from her bushes and moved out of the way so that I could cut the lawns. I carefully and methodically worked my way across the gardens. I have to empty the grass box a couple of times as I do so. I'm glad I did choose to wear the dress, as it does keep me cooler that the clothes I normally wear.

As I finished I saw Mrs Perkins come round the corner of her house carrying a tray with two glasses of fresh apple juice. I took one and sipped the refreshing cold liquid. I like our neighbour. She is a kind old women and I get on with her well.

We were discussing some of the plants in her garden when I hear a car pull up and go into reverse. Turning round, I saw my mother starting to back into our driveway. She glanced across in our direction and I caught the look of surprise on her face as she recognised me. Her gaze was broken by the screaming of the reverse parking sensor as she came off the edge of the drive. Before she could react the car came to a sudden halt as it hit the fence post separating our drive from our other neighbours.

My mother flung her car door open and stormed round to the back of the car to survey the damage. Her face was like thunder as she paused to take in the situation before turning and approaching me.

"What the hell do you think you are doing dressed like that?" my mother asked me sternly. She wasn't shouting, but the anger was very evident in her voice.

"Mowing the lawn," I answer, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me young man! Get inside and take off that ridiculous outfit this instant and don't you dare come out wearing another outfit designed for a girl. I want you out here dressed properly as a boy a.s.a.p."

I handed my glass back to Mrs Perkins as I shrugged my shoulders, before turning and heading inside. If my mother hadn't specified boys’ clothes, then I would have simply changed to a skirt and top. However, she was wise enough to stipulate that I should dress as a boy. I don't want to directly disobey her, but I do have one final trick up my sleeve. I head to the bathroom and quickly rinse myself under the shower. I head back to my bedroom wrapped in a towel and pull out my forth outfit for the day. I began by putting on the white shirt I started out with first thing this morning. I then pull out a red tartan kilt. I'm not cheating with this, as it is a real kilt designed for a boy, not a girl’s skirt that just happens to look like the part. I even have a sporran to hang from my belt. I'm tempted to go traditional and not wear anything underneath, but I'm not comfortable with that, especially as Mrs Perkins might be watching when I go outside, and I don't think she would appreciate being flashed if my mother decides to try and remove the kilt. Instead I put on a clean pair of male underpants.

I put on my normal black shoes and walk back outside. My mother and Mrs Perkins are stood at the rear of the car discussing the large dint on the bumper. My mother turns round as I approach and she doesn't look happy. Before she can say anything I get in first, "Satisfied now? I'm not wearing anything designed for a girl. Everything, including my underwear, is strictly masculine, and this is a proper kilt, not a skirt, before you accuse me of anything."

I stand and face my mother, who is at a loss for words. I could see that she was absolutely livid, but rather than shying away like I have in the past, I stood my ground. I wasn't going to back down this time.

After several tense seconds my mother screamed at me, "Fine, you want to make a prat of yourself go ahead. Now put that lawnmower away and clean up this mess."

Mum stormed off inside, slamming the back door as she went in.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll calm down, dear," Mrs Perkins declared, probably to break the awkward silence more than stating an actual belief.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," I replied. On seeing a puzzled look, I elaborated, "this argument has been building for a while and I'm not going to back down or let it drop. I'll apologise in advance if there is a lot of yelling this evening, especially when Dad gets home."

"Well take care, and good luck," Mrs Perkins answered before heading home. I quickly finished emptying the grass box and wheeled the lawnmower back to the shed before heading inside myself to face the music.

My mother was in the bathroom when I entered the house. I decided to head to my room and stay there. I made a start on my homework and waited to see if the argument was going to continue. It didn't and I'm left in peace for the next hour while my mother made dinner.

I heard my father’s car reverse into the drive. Having finished my homework, I descended the stairs to meet him as he entered. Our lounge and dining room are open plan. I positioned myself on one of the three piece suite chairs, kneeling on the cushion, facing the back of the seat. I can see into the kitchen from here, but my parents can only see the top half of me over the back of the chair. My mother didn't notice me as she had her back to the door while peeling some potatoes over the sink. I can tell from her body language that she is still in a mood.

My father enters the back door and immediately notices the annoyed expression on my mother’s face.

"Is something wrong?" Dad asked tentatively as he passed. My mother didn't respond. Seeing that she was angry, he decided it best to leave her to calm down a fraction, and continued into the front room to deposit his briefcase under the computer desk in the corner and take off his shoes. Seeing me, or at least the top half of me, he asked, "I see you cut the grass. You did Audrey's lawn as well?"

I nodded as I answered, "Yes, but I didn't strim the edges as I had homework to do. Besides which, Mum arrived home so I wouldn't be able to finish anyway."

We have a band of grass going down the centre of our driveway, between the two concrete strips that the cars run on. With a car parked in the drive, it’s not possible to cut all the grass. I had mown that first as I knew Mum may arrive home before I could finish.

"I think the strimmer is out of cable anyway," my father stated, "I'll take a look after tea."

"I wouldn't be too pleased, if I were you," my mother said as she joined the conversation. Turning to me she added, "Come out from behind that chair. Are you still wearing what you had on earlier?"

I got up and walked to the side of the chair so that both my parents could see I was still in a kilt.

"You mowed the lawn in that," my father said as he started to laugh at me.

"No, this material is far too hot and heavy for this heat. Mum ordered me to change after she crashed the car, which for the record is not my fault," I said in a calm even tone, ignoring both the laughing and the stares from my mother. I nonchalantly walked over to the dining room table and began to set three places.

"What did you hit? The lawnmower?" Dad asked to Mum as he walked to the back door to inspect the damage. My mother followed him out, and I tagged along at the back. I figured a shouting match was about to start, but hoped that being outside would limit the argument.

"The dint may spring back out, but it'll certainly leave a mark too deep to polish out," he said as he inspected the damage to the car.

"I've a good mind to make Darin pay for this out of his allowance," Mum stated in annoyance, "If he hadn't have distracted me prancing round like a girl, I wouldn't have nudged the post."

My father turned to me with raised eyebrows. I responded with, "I wasn't prancing; I was stood still next to the rose bushes talking to Mrs Perkins. I also object to the word 'like'. You could have braked or ignored me and watched what you were doing."

"What exactly were you wearing?" My dad asked.

"Show him!" my Mother instructed.

I led my parents inside and up to my bedroom where the dress I was in earlier was hanging on the front of my wardrobe.

"You were wearing that?" My father exclaimed to which I simply nodded. "This stops here and now. I will not having people see you cross-dressing," he continued, "what would your friends think it they saw you in that?"

I couldn't help but grin at his question. I already had an answer planned for this. "Name one of my friends who you think would be upset by seeing me in that?"

This causes my father to stop and think. I can see him trying to rack his brain for any name. He has to glance at my mother for inspiration. I don't exactly have many friends as I don't fit in very well. Kevin is probably my best friend at the moment, but we have only been talking for a few weeks and I haven't mentioned him to my parents. The fact they are struggling to name anybody shows both my lack of social skills in making friends and the lack of communication within our family about our lives.

"Holly down the road would definitely laugh at you," my mother injected to break the awkward silence left by my father. I find it amusing that the only person she can think of is one of the neighbouring girls on our street.

"Holly is the ultimate tomboy, and would laugh at anybody wearing a dress, regardless of their gender. I don't think she is a good example," I replied. "If that is the only person you can think of whom I'm friends with I think it proves that you don't know a lot about me, or at least refuse to acknowledge that I don't fit in as a boy. Also, why are you assuming that I'm keeping secrets from my friends? My friends know that I'm really a girl and are the ones who helped me obtain this clothing in the first place."

"If you think you're a girl, you really do need you head examined," my mother stated, "or do I need to give you a biology lesson about what I know is between your legs."

"Hallelujah! You're finally getting it. Yes, I do need my head examined. Please go ahead and book a doctor’s appointment. I think I'm a girl in a boy's body. That is a recognised medical condition and can be treated. At the very least I should be in professional counselling to work out my problems."

"You've been watching too much television," my father accused, "you don't need to have some quack filling your head with new age bullshit. You're male. Get that in your head and get used to it. You can also hand over these stupid girly clothes before anybody else finds out about them. How many people know about your cross-dressing? Obviously Mrs Perkins and probably some of the other neighbours saw you, and you said some of your friends know."

I have to think about this for a few seconds. There are around 800 pupils at my school, and considering the rumour mill I would expect three quarters of them at least would know that a boy turned up as a girl today. Factor in that at least a quarter of those have probably told their parents or siblings. Assuming the average family has 2.4 children, which gives a total family size of 4.4. Round that to four and a half, to make the maths easier, and times by 150 to get 675. Add back in the three-quarters of six hundred and you are already up to 1,125. The teachers would probably tell their spouses and we have getting on for thirty staff.

After throwing the numbers around in my head I conclude, "I would say approximately twelve hundred people by now probably know I'm a cross-dresser, although I doubt they all know my name or could pick me out of a crowd. That will obviously increase exponentially as time passes, although the wider the knowledge spreads the less likely the people are to actually know who I am and simply know that there is a gender variant child living in the town."

I think that one shocked my parents. I suspect they were perhaps thinking single figures, or low double figures at the worst. I decided to push the point further, "You can confiscate my clothing if it will make you feel better, but really you're only closing the stable door after the horse has bolted. I've stopped hiding what I am, and I'm not going back in the closet. You can make me look like a boy, but I'm no longer going to pretend to act like one.”

At this point I had expected my father to throw the old argument of 'while living in my house you follow my rules,' in which case I would have started to pack the suitcase enquiring where they wanted me to live instead. They can't chuck me out at my age, as they are legally responsible for me for several more years. However, it’s me who gets the surprise when my father asks, "If you so keen on living as a girl, then you will have no problem spending the next fortnight dressed in either skirts or dresses? Hand over all your trousers and jeans. If however, you are unwilling or unable to do this, then you will give up this nonsense for good."

I was sure that there was probably a catch to this, but I didn’t bother to work it out and immediately agreed to the challenge, "Fine, I'll not wear anything remotely masculine for the next two weeks. I'll be the most girlish girl I can. However, as I have limited clothing I'll need to supplement my wardrobe with some of my more unisex t-shirts and shorts in order to have enough to wear, unless you plan on buying me some more outfits."

My mother interrupted, "Don't be ridiculous, Luke. Darin can't go to school dressed as a girl."

I see a sly grin appear on my father’s face. He was counting on the fact that I'd be forced to attend school as a boy. Unfortunately for him, I've already got permission to attend dressed in a skirt. The only thing I don't have is a girl's P.E. kit, but as shorts and a t-shirt are unisex, I suspect I can get away with it. The girls are supposed to have gym skirts instead, but they can get away with shorts or culottes as well.

I ignored my mother and instead asked, "Would you like me to change back into the dress now, or do you consider the kilt girly enough to stay in until bedtime?"

I didn’t get an answer as the kitchen timer went off and my mother went to see to the vegetables. My father stayed a few seconds longer before also turning and leaving. The kilt is nice, but a bit heavy for summer wear, so I took the opportunity to change back into the dress. I arrived back downstairs as the meal was being carried to the table. I got some condescending looks, but nothing was said. We ate our meal in silence.

After tea, I grabbed my reading book and sat gracefully in a chair with my legs pulled up under me. There I remained until bedtime, ignoring the stares from my parents. As I went to the loo and brushed my teeth I reflected on the day’s outcome. I had successfully presented myself as a girl all day, keeping up my resolve and not chickening out. The result of the argument with my parents was a lot better than expected, especially as I still hadn't revealed that I'd spent the whole day as a girl. I felt extremely comfortable as I slipped into bed that night. I was wearing a pair of cotton pyjamas like I normally did, but these were pink and covered with hearts.

Darin Dares

Chapter 5 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

It wasn't until I stood to put my bowl in the sink did my mother notice what I was wearing. She almost choked when she saw the skirt.

I awoke the next morning at a quarter to eight to the sound of Shania Twain belting out "Man! I Feel Like A Woman!" as the alarm function on my CD player activated. Lifting my mattress I pulled the school uniform from its hiding place and quickly got dressed. I could hear someone enter the bathroom and the water start running as I finished tying my shoelaces. I left my room and descended the stairs.

I realised the person in the bathroom was my mother when I saw my father sat at the table eating a bowl of cereal. He had his back to the kitchen, so didn’t see me as I poured a cup of tea from the pot and got my own breakfast. He was too busy reading the paper to notice my skirt as I slipped into a chair opposite him.

We were joined a few minutes later by my mother. She got her own breakfast and sat down next to my father. The table blocked the view of my lower half, and neither of them noticed that the buttons on my shirt were in the opposite direction to normal. It wasn't until I stood to put my bowl in the sink did my mother notice what I was wearing. She almost choked when she saw the skirt.

"Are you alright, Helen," my father asked as he patted her on the back. All my mother could do was point in my direction as I disappeared out of sight. My father obviously caught sight of me by the expletives I heard as I reached the stairs. I ignored them and ascended up and into the bathroom.

I quickly used the toilet and then brushed my teeth. After washing I took the brush from the shelf and worked on my hair. It's short enough that it doesn't need combing, but I do it anyway. Opening the medicine cabinet I pulled out the metal tin containing cotton buds that nobody ever uses. I extracted the clip on earrings and matching hair slide that I had hidden there a few days before. Each of them featured a metal butterfly painted in multiple colours. I clipped the thumbnail sized butterflies onto my ears and then slid the two inch butterfly into my hair above my left ear. I wasn't sure that I had enough hair for it to stay put, but it seemed secure enough for the moment. I wasn't planning on using the wig today. I would leave that in reserve, as I was still worried my parents would confiscate everything.

Taking a deep breath I checked myself in the mirror one final time before unlocking and opening the bathroom door. I can see my parents waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. I cross to my bedroom and pick up my school bags. I have my kit bag in addition to my normal one as I have P.E. today. After double checking I had everything I needed for the day, I slowly descended the stairs to face the music.

"Just what do you think you are doing dressed like that?" My mother shouted.

Unfazed I calmly replied, "I'm upholding my side of the agreement we made yesterday. You asked me to dress as a girl for a fortnight, and that is what I'm doing. This is the most feminine I can look without breaking the school dress code. While I would look better with a wig and makeup, the former is not allowed and the latter is discouraged. Until my hair grows out this is the best I can do."

"You can't go to school like that, you'd get expelled," Mum continued.

"No I won't. The punishments for breaking the dress code range from a verbal warning up to being sent home for the day. Permanent expulsion would take multiple offences. So far I've received one warning. My next offence could land me in detention or possibly a temporary suspension. However, if you go check the rules on the school website you'll see that everything I have on is compliant. The only thing I may get criticised for is the hair clip, but I can remove that if needed."

I watched my father as he pulled out his smart phone and browse to the website. "There is a notice here posted yesterday about a modification to the dress code. It states that following a complaint, it has been decided that the gender requirements of the rules conflict with the equality and diversity policy and are therefore being temporarily relaxed pending review. Female students could already follow the uniform guidelines for male students. This change means that male students can now follow the guidelines for female students, eliminating the previous bias in favour of girls."

"I'm not going to bother to ask who made the complaint," my mother stated as she shot me a glance. I smiled sweetly in return. "If you're so determined to make a complete arse out of yourself, then fine, you can go like that. However, I'm taking you in the car and we'll go straight to the office on arrival. Go put your normal uniform in a bag so that you can change if needed."

I give a quick salute before spinning round and walking back to my room. I return a minute later with my male clothes and shoes in a carrier bag. I'll take them with me, but already know that they won't be needed.

~o~O~o~

A few minutes later all three of us set off in my dad's car for the school. As we approach the gates I can see the headmistress standing at the entrance. I smile and wave to her as we drive past heading for a free spot on the side of the road. As soon as we're parked, I get out of the passenger side rear door.

"Good morning, Darin," Mrs Davis greeted me, having followed us to where we parked, "that's a very pretty set of earrings you're wearing today."

"Morning Mrs Davis, is this hair clip okay?" I asked pointing at the item on my head, "I wasn't sure if it was too large."

"No, its fine, but you will have to take it out for P.E. Considering what some of the girls try and get away with, that is quite tame."

My parents had gotten out of the car and just stood there watching our exchange in disbelief. Before they could say anything to the headmistress, she spotted another student larking about and started shouting at them while walking in their direction.

"Thanks for the lift," I said to my parents as I put the carrier bag containing the male uniform back in the car. "That was the headmistress in case you didn't recognise her. As she's happy with my appearance that means I'm not in trouble. If any of the teachers complain I'll be sent to her, and I doubt she will change her mind. See you tonight."

I picked up my bags and walked away, joining a few of my classmates who greeted me. Thankfully they all completely ignored how I was dressed and carried on as if nothing strange was happening, which I'm sure would baffle my parents even more.

I decided to head towards the library. It is one place where there is constant supervision and where I will be least likely to be harassed. On the way there I spot Kevin, and go over to him to have a word. I indicate to him we should find somewhere where we can talk and head back outside and find a spot away from other people.

"Do I take from your appearance that you have been given permission to attend like that?" Kevin asked.

"Yes, and I also have more good news for you as well," I started, "but first, I have an apology to make. I told Mrs Davis about your incident with Mrs Bates, although I made sure not to identify you directly. Unfortunately, she's worked out that I was probably talking about you. I'm sorry, that wasn't my intention. However, as a result of that and my own concerns about her, Mrs Davis has decided to investigate the claims and it seems she's very unhappy with the outcome. She is keen to speak to you about your experience."

I could see the worried look on his face, but he didn't appear angry with me or overly upset. After a pause he replied, "Is she still outside? I think I might take a wander over and see if I can have a word."

We both wander over in the direction of the gates. Mrs Davis is just walking back towards the office and we intercept her.

"Morning, Kevin, Darin, is there something I can do for you?" Mrs Davis greets us.

"I believe Darin told you about an incident I had with Mrs Bates, and you wanted to speak to me about it," Kevin shyly replied.

"Certainly, please come along to my office with me so that we can discuss it in private. Darin, would you come as well, I need a quick word with you as well. Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

~o~O~o~

It is only a short walk to the school offices. We were soon in Mrs Davis's office.

"Darin, I had a quick word with your parents before they left," Mrs Davis said, "They told me about the challenge they set you. I must admit I had to laugh, I take it you didn't admit to attending as a girl yesterday?"

I shook my head and she continued, "I informed them about yesterday and basically repeated what I told you. I also told them that they need to get you to see a specialist, preferably one familiar with Gender issues. Your mother is going to phone the doctors when she gets to work to see if they can get you an appointment with your G.P. I suggested if they needed to pull you out of school for that, then to do it during your P.E. lesson."

I thanked her and she then turned to Kevin. He asked that I stay while he talked. I knew the subject upsets him, and suspected he may want some moral support, especially given the negative outcome the last time he spoke to anybody in authority about it. They spent the next twenty minutes discussing what happened. I stay out of the conversation, and simply provide comfort and moral support by my presence. I end up holding his hand for most of the session, which seems to help. At least he didn't end up crying this time, although I could tell he was getting close.

Mrs Davis assures Kevin that his sexuality is not an issue and will be treated with the upmost confidentiality.

We are dismissed just before registration, so that we don't end up being marked as being late by Mr Brett as he would be unaware where we were, although the office would have corrected that afterwards if needed.

~o~O~o~

The room once again fell silent as I entered. Coming dressed as a girl yesterday was a surprise for most people. I don't think many of them expected me to turn up as a girl again, or if they did, they probably weren't expecting I would be allowed.

Mr Brett ignored my entrance and simply started to call out names as the bell rang. We all respectfully fell silent as required when the register is being called.

"I have one announcement this morning," the teacher stated, "As you have all noticed, Darin is still wearing a skirt today. In line with the equality and diversity policy it was considered unfair that we allow girls to wear skirts but boys aren't permitted to do the same. Therefore pending the uniform rules being reviewed and rewritten, a clarification has been issued. Any gender references are to be ignored until further notice. This doesn't affect the girls, as you can already wear trousers, but if any of the other boys want to wear skirts then they can."

"Does that extend to kilts, or only skirts?" Mark enquired. "I have no intention of wearing a skirt, but I might consider wearing a kilt. I have one that is blue and black, but it's obviously tartan and not plain."

"I'll ask for clarification on that," Mr Brett replied. "Skirts are only allowed to be plain at the moment and there is no mention of kilts, so I'm not sure. I'll raise it as an issue. The problem is if we allowed boys to wear tartan and the girls could only wear plain skirts, then we would have an inequality again. I think if we did go down that line then we may specify a specific tartan, Black Watch, for example, and allow everybody to wear it. If anybody has any suggestions on how the uniform should be changed, then please write an essay explaining why you think it should be adopted and I'll submit it to the board. I don't think we will be dropping the uniform requirement, but if there are reasons for having it changed, then they will be looked at."

The registration period doesn't last long, and we are soon heading to the first lesson of the day, which is French. I don't mind the subject, but I'm not particularly good at it. This is something that worries me slightly. Females are supposedly better with language skills while males are more spatially aware. Hence jokes about women drivers. There is actually some scientific evidence that men can judge speed and distances better. I know that this is a generalisation and doesn't always hold true. What you have is two bell curves that overlap if you were to plot individual male and female characteristics. The offset is probably very small, and the overlap very large.

If I have a female brain, even with a male body, does that mean I should have better language skills and worse spatial orientation? Admittedly I can't throw for toffees, but I'm not any good with learning languages either. I am probably over thinking things again. Going existential is a habit I have every now and then. It doesn't do me any good getting to philosophical. It tends to make me think of my own mortality and make me extremely depressed.

~o~O~o~

The second period passed without incident and I made sure to find a quiet spot in the library during break where I wouldn't be disturbed. At the bell for the third period I headed outside and over to the sports block. Given that I really don't like having to use the changing rooms, and that I have threatened to boycott the lesson, I was apprehensive as to how the next hour would unfold.

Darin Dares

Chapter 6 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

At the bell for the third period I headed outside and over to the sports block. Given that I really don't like having to use the changing rooms, and that I have threatened to boycott the lesson, I was apprehensive as to how the next hour would unfold.

As per usual I was in no rush to get over there. By the time I arrived everyone else was already in two lines, boys on the left, and girls on the right, ready to go in. While tempted to stand with the girls, I knew it would be pointless, so instead lined up in my normal place with the boys.

The sports teachers were already waiting outside supervising us. This wasn't always the case, and often we would be stood waiting. Given that both teachers were present from the moment we started lining up, I suspected that they were expecting trouble. Considering this would be the first time I would be attending P.E. dressed as a girl, and that I was threatening to boycott the lesson, I assumed that this change in behaviour was related to me.

My suspicions were confirmed when we were all instructed to go into the gym instead of the changing rooms. We are all told to sit in a big semicircle. I'm asked to come and sit in centre in front of everybody. This didn't bode well.

"There have been a number of rumours flying around about this person here," Mrs Rush stated, indicating me. "As you can see, Darin is dressed as a girl. Some of you have questioned which changing room he will be using, and I know some of the girls are concerned that he may be using the girl's facilities. This is not the case. Darin is legally and physically male, and therefore won't be using the female facilities for the foreseeable future. Even if he were to be legally recognised as a transsexual, she would not be allowed to use the female changing rooms while still being a functional male. Alternative arrangements would be made instead. I know some of the girls have expressed concerns over this issue, and I hope that clarifies things."

Mrs Rush was not stating anything I didn't already know. I can only imagine what some of the rumours going around might be, especially as to some it might appear that the school is bending over backwards to accommodate my apparent change in gender.

"I have also heard some rumours," Mr Lamb took over. "I understand that some of you boys are no longer happy to be sharing a changing room with Darin, and I know the feeling is mutual as Darin has already declared that he is uncomfortable changing with the boys. However, you are all male, whether you like it or not and therefore have to share the changing facilities. Some of the comments I've overheard are exceedingly homophobic, and I won't stand for any trouble that any of you might want to cause. I will not tolerate any pranking, hazing or bullying in my lessons. Do I make myself clear?"

John raised his hand to ask a question, at the nod of the teacher he spoke, "Mr Lamb, you have just stated that the segregation of students into changing rooms is based solely on their physical sex, rather than their overall gender, which is understandable. However, Mrs Rush, you inferred a second criteria of being a functional male. I assume the definition of being functional is to be able to sexually reproduce. My understanding of biology is that we don't become fully functional until we have gone through puberty. I suspect it's easier to tell when a girl reaches that milestone as it would presumably be when she has her first period, but how exactly do you plan on telling with a boy? Even very young boys can have erections, even if they can't produce sperm. Does this mean that any individual who has yet to go through puberty could potentially use either changing room?"

I like John. Not in a romantic way, but as a good friend. He is highly intelligent and an excellent debater. This is not the first time I've seen him tie somebody in knots using outlandish logic.

"The answer is we can't tell," Mrs Rush replied, "therefore you are all assumed to be fully functional in that sense even if you haven't reached that stage of development, unless a medical professional states otherwise. A transsexual would normally be on a hormone regimen which would effectively castrate the individual after a period of time. For reference, the council run sports facilities use the age of eight as the cut off point where children are allowed in to the changing rooms with a parent or guardian of the opposite sex. As you are all now entering your teens, you are well beyond that age."

"I know Darin doesn't yet have an official diagnosis," John continued, "but the way you clarified things earlier seems to suggest that you are expecting such a diagnosis to be given. Does this mean alternative changing arrangements will be made for her already? Or are you going to force somebody who you suspect to be transgendered to use facilities they are obvious exceedingly reluctant and embarrassed to use. You're very quick to assure the girls that a boy won't be joining them, but seem happy for a girl to use the boy’s room. Sure, we know she shares the same physical characteristics as us, but I know from now on she is going to be doing her best to hide that portion of her body, so the net effect for the rest of us will be we will be seeing and more importantly perceiving her to be a girl. I know I'm not the only one who is having difficulty thinking of Darin as a boy now."

I can see several of the other boys, and a few of the girls, nodding in agreement. I had already told my friends my plans for using the toilet cubicle and showering while at least leaving my underwear on. While I was keeping myself to myself in the library during the break, my friends had been gathering the opinion of my classmates on the subject.

"Darin has been dressing as a girl for a day and a half," Mr Lamb declared, "I find it hard to believe that all of a sudden you all regard him as a her."

"John is right," Gary stated. He was the last person I expected to speak on my behalf after all the trouble I have had with him. "We've known something has been off about Darin for ages, we just didn't know what it was exactly. Now that the final piece of the jigsaw has been put in place we can suddenly see the whole picture and wham, things start making sense. She hasn't even started to use a feminine name, and she certainly looks boyish with that haircut, but when she puts that wig on, I have real trouble seeing a boy. Its weirding me out and I'd rather not have to shower with it."

The use of 'it' drew several withering looks from various people in the room. Seeing the annoyance, Gary immediately tried to correct himself, "Er, sorry, her. Him? Crap this is confusing."

I was keeping out of the argument. I had made my own position perfectly clear and while I was willing to carry on using the boy’s facilities, it would be under protest. I think the teachers assumed that wouldn't be an issue, but they were quickly finding out that they may have more people refusing to co-operate than simply me.

"Hands up those who think Darin should be removed from the boy's changing room?" Mr Lamb asked. My friends took the lead in raising their hands, followed by Gary. Slowly everybody else started to raise their hands, including the girls. I had immediately raised my own hand as well. After a few seconds every student had raised their hand, the last few probably deciding to go with the majority.

"Why are you raising you hands, it doesn't affect you?" Mrs Rush said looking to the girls, who were all sat to the right of the room.

"Just because we don't want her in with us, doesn't mean we think she should be in with the boys," Penny got in before anybody else could respond. "I know I wouldn't be comfortable having to use the boy's changing room and I doubt she is either."

"None of you are willing to have Darin in with you?" Mr Lamb added in surprise.

"You didn't ask that," Kevin said, "I would change and shower with her if needed, but I still feel she should be changing elsewhere. Quite frankly I suspect there are quite a few of us who would much prefer not to have to ever use communal facilities. I for one am not entirely comfortable with it. But we put up with it because we know making a fuss isn't going to get us anywhere and would get us laughed at for not fitting in. I seriously wonder if the school decided that there was only going to be one changing room and both boys and girls had to use it and shower together, how many of us would just get on and do it despite the embarrassment, and how many would dare refuse? Hands up those who would undress with Darin present, albeit unwillingly, if the alternative was being expelled for refusing to follow direct instructions? Girls, how many of you would have put up with it if Mrs Rush had said that Darin would be using your facilities?"

Again, all of the boy's immediately put their hands up. They were joined by about a third of the girls.

"We weren't going to make any special arrangements for the simple reason we have to treat everybody equally and fairly. The school is not equipped to let every student change in total privacy, so we can only make exceptions with valid reasons, such as a medical certificate. If you all feel so strongly then we will allow Darin to change elsewhere, but it has to be on the understanding that nobody else will be allowed such a privilege," Mr Lamb decided.

I can see Mr Lamb is reluctant, and I can see his point about showing favouritism. I've jumped the gun on trying to force a transition ahead of time. I decided I should regain control of the situation. "You don't need to show me favouritism by altering the rules to my benefit. You simply need a valid reason for my exclusion from P.E. until I can get a permanent medical certificate. I'm sure I can lose my P.E. kit between here and the changing room if needed, especially if I take a detour via the pond. As much as you've threatened it, you've never made anybody participate naked. Simon how fast was you going when you fell off your bike and broke your arm? Do you think I could run at the door fast enough to cause sufficient damage, or would I need to jump off the roof instead? "

"Enough," Mr Lamb commanded. "I'm removing you from the changing rooms for your own safety. I have this sneaking suspicion you aren't bluffing. That is all the excuse I need for now. Everybody except Darin, into the changing rooms, we are wasting time. Darin, you will get changed in the staff cubicle in the office. Move!"

I'm escorted into the sports block office and directed to the door at the back where a small bathroom is located containing a shower, a toilet, washbasin, and a small wooden bench. I place my bag on the bench and close and lock the door. I swiftly change into my normal male P.E. kit, folding my clothes neatly and putting them in my sports bag.

I open the door to find the teachers missing. I walk to the office door to see where they are. Mr Lamb comes out of a store cupboard down the corridor carrying a big net of footballs. He instructs me to carry them to the football pitch while he disappears into the changing rooms to call the register and escort everybody else outside.

I notice that the girls are already coming outside and heading to the hockey pitch as I leave the building by the front door. The changing rooms have two doors. The ones we use to enter and leave at the start and end of lessons are in the corridor at the front of the building between the sports hall and gymnasium. The second set of doors at the rear of the building lead directly outside onto the playing fields so we can come and go without trailing mud through the building during winter.

It is a few minutes later that the boys come out. They seem to have taken a long time to change, which leads me to believe that Mr Lamb had more things to say to them about me while I wasn't present. I would ask Kevin about that later.

The lesson continued as normal. We started off practising dribbling by controlling the ball through a slalom of cones. That was followed by some passing practice and finally a short match at the end of the lesson.

At the end of the period, everybody else was sent back to the changing rooms. I had to help the teacher put away the equipment. If that was going to be the ongoing price for using the staff cubicle, then I wasn't going to complain. As I had a shower to myself, it meant I didn't have to wait for others to finish and I could change quickly. Even though I was a few minutes later to start changing, I still emerged from the office as the bell rung. I know some of the other students would take several more minutes to change. It didn't matter as it was now lunch time. It was when you had another lesson to get to did it really matter that you got out quickly.

~o~O~o~

I caught up with Kevin at lunch to find out what was said in the changing room while I wasn't present. He explained that Mr Lamb had expressed concern over my apparent willingness to self-harm. He warned the boys to be on the lookout for any signs that I might do something stupid as I wasn't acting normally and that might be a sign of stress. I could apparently be on the point of a nervous breakdown and he didn't want anybody pushing me over the edge.

"Great, so I'm nuts now and might need taking to a padded room," I lamented to my friend.

"Well you do want to be a girl," Kevin replied. "Mind you I find all girls crazy, so you'll fit right in."

This got him a few shouts from some of the girls who were in the dinner queue with us. I hadn't had time to make a pack lunch, so was waiting in line at the school canteen.

Darin Dares

Chapter 7 of 7

© 2014 by D.L.

We were soon on our way and I noted that we weren't heading for home, but instead going towards the town centre. I didn't bother asking our destination, and my mother wasn't in a talkative mood, so we made the journey in silence.

The remainder of my second day at school dressed as a girl went on without incident. Many people were giving me funny looks, and I could tell most of the nearby conversations were about me, but I wasn't being overly harassed. A few jibes came my way, but for the most part, there wasn't anything nasty.

I still hadn't had any word from my parents by the end of the school day, so I had no idea if they had managed to obtain an appointment for me at the doctors.

I didn't have the luxury of an early escape like the day before, so I found myself walking out of the school in a crowd. I didn't rush and made sure to stay close to where the teachers were stationed. There seemed to be more adults around than usual, which might have been directly related to them expecting trouble. I stopped at the school gates and surveyed the area before stepping over the threshold.

As I started to walk in the direction of home, I noticed my mother’s car pull up at the side of the road ahead of me. I quickly got in and shut the door before anybody decided to intercept me, although there didn't appear to be any sign of trouble.

We were soon on our way and I noted that we weren't heading for home, but instead going towards the town centre. I didn't bother asking our destination, and my mother wasn't in a talkative mood, so we made the journey in silence. It was only a few minutes before we were pulling up in a side street near the doctor's surgery. My mother instructed me to follow her and she led me to the reception. Apparently, she was able to secure an appointment and we were directed to the waiting room.

There were only a few chairs left, as it was quite busy. My mother took the seat on the end of a row and I sat down next to a young girl. It was obvious that she wasn't feeling very well as she was sat very quietly and was exceedingly pale. I estimated that she must be of primary school age, but wasn't in a school uniform. Instead, she was wearing jeans and a sweater. I just hoped that whatever she had wasn't contagious.

The girl looked at me in puzzlement for several minutes before asking, "Excuse me, are you a boy or a girl?"

I could see several people nearby take interest in the question. As she asked politely, I decided to answer her, "Both, or possibly neither. I look like a boy, but I think, and feel, like a girl. That's why I'm here."

"That's silly. How can you not know what you are?"

"I do know what I am. I'm a girl. The problem is I don't look like a girl and everybody else keeps insisting I'm a boy. It’s very annoying."

"You should grow your hair longer and put it in pigtails. Boys don't wear pigtails. That way you won't keep getting mistaken for a boy."

"I keep trying to grow my hair long, but my mum keeps making me cut it short."

The receptionist called out another name, and the girl’s mother stood up. "I have to go see the doctor now, bye," the young girl said as she disappeared off.

"A few months ago you were begging to have your hair buzz cut," my mother remarked. "I'm not the one to blame for its current length."

"I was still in denial at that point. I had previously been growing it longer, but I was getting to much trouble for it, so cut it short. Unfortunately, it didn't have much effect and only made me feel bad, hence why it hasn't been cut again since."

We sit in silence for several minutes. A couple more people were called for the various doctors on duty and a few more people arrive. A couple of boys turn up and sit on the opposite side of the room and I can see them pointing in my direction and sniggering at me. I notice the young girl and her mother re-emerge from the corridor with the consulting rooms and head past the reception and through the door into the attached pharmacy. The receptionist calls out "Miss Mitchell" and looks in our direction. I smile at being called miss, and along with my mother walk down the corridor to where the doctor is stood outside his door, waiting.

~o~O~o~

Dr Sumas is one of the younger doctors at the surgery and appears to be of Indian descent, but instead of the accent you might expect, speaks with a strong Liverpudlian inflection.

"Now then, what seems to be the problem?" the doctor asked. If he had a suspicion based on how I was dressed, he wasn't letting on.

"I believe I'm transgendered," I replied.

"I see, why do you think that may be the case?"

It was at least a good sign that he wasn't dismissing me out of hand. I could only remember seeing him once or twice before. I don't go to the doctors very often and it had been several years since my last visit. He spent the next ten minutes asking questions about how I felt and how I interacted with others. I answered as honestly as possible, although there were some things I simply couldn't explain.

He then asked if it would be okay to give me a physical examination. He asked my mother to leave the room while I undressed. Dr Sumas then proceeded to examine my chest and genitalia to make sure I was developing normally. He also took the opportunity to ask some more personal questions about my development that he didn't think I would answer with my mother present, such as if I was experiencing erections and had I ever ejaculated semen.

He left me to dress, leaving the room. A few minutes later, he knocked on the door to ask if I was decent. Confirming that I was, he entered carrying some bottles of pills and was followed into the room by my mother.

"There doesn't appear to be anything physically out of the ordinary from the limited amount of testing that I can do without specialist equipment. As far as I can tell, you are male and seem to be developing normally for a boy your age. I can't see any evidence of any obvious intersex condition, although for thoroughness I will be sending you up the hospital for some additional tests."

Dr Sumas spoke with a soft calming voice. I thought that he possible suspected I would be upset at being told that information. While the thought had crossed my mind that there was a slim chance that I had somehow been misidentified at birth, I knew that it was incredibly unlikely to be the case. I simply nodded in agreement. I knew from my research that treatment for my condition would be a long drawn out process, which is why the doctor surprised me by laying out pills on the table in front of him.

Firstly, there were four small round yellow tablets. Next to them, he placed two blue capsules and two large flat white discs.

"There are multiple ways I can potentially treat you," the doctor explained. "The first one I will definitely not be doing and that is to ignore the problem and tell you to go away and not be so stupid. The mere fact that you are here and that you believe you are transgendered is enough to demonstrate that you are questioning your gender, and are therefore experiencing gender dysphoria. The question is not if you are transgendered, but to what extent, and how much it is effecting you. I am going to present you with three options, some of which I suspect you will hate. I want you to listen to all three before making your choice, and I want to stress that this is your choice. Don't pick an option because it’s what you think is expected of you by your mother or myself."

The doctor pushed the yellow tablets towards me.

"You've heard the expression 'it'll put hairs on your chest'; these will do exactly that. Contained in these tablets is a mix of testosterone, steroids, and other body building supplements. These are the type of pills that are banned by all professional sports bodies. If you are involved in any series competitive sport, then let me know and I'll dramatically drop the dose so that you won't be disqualified. The effect will be to kick start puberty big time. You will soon overtake the rest of your peers in muscle development and nobody will ever even think of calling you a sissy again. It will also boost your sex drive. To put it crudely, your only interest in girls’ clothing will be how quickly you can get them out of it so that you can fuck their brains out. Any doubts about your manliness will probably disappear. Unfortunately, you will have to be careful to manage your anger. You have presumably heard of the term 'roid rage? You may end up suffering from it."

I was slightly caught off guard by his language and simply nodded at the question at the end of his explanation. After a short pause, Dr Sumas pushed the reaming tablets in my direction.

"Option two: the exact opposite. The blue tablets destroy virtually all male hormones. Three of these would be enough chemically to castrate any adult male. I'm giving you two, as you haven't reached full adult height and weight, and don't yet have adult levels of hormones. They will flush any testosterone out of your system and completely shut down your testis and their ability to produce hormones. It may be possible to restart them again with the other tablets, but it’s by no means guaranteed. The chances of you ever becoming a father would be very remote. The other tablets are a massive dose of female hormones. To put this into perspective how strong these are, a women undergoing hormone replacement therapy would only need to take half a tablet per month. I'm giving you two to get you started and then, depending on how fast your body reacts, we'll work out a continued dosage. No tablet can make you grow boobs overnight, but you should start noticing them start to bud within a fortnight. Within a couple of months, you should have caught up, if not overtaken, most girls your age. However, these don't come without side effects. You will experience the biggest bought of PMS that any women is capable of suffering. You will probably have morning sickness for at least a week. That shouldn't start until after you have digested the tablets, so you don't need to worry about vomiting them back up again, but you may find yourself off your food for a few days until the queasiness passes. I can prescribe some additional medicine to help with that aspect."

While I don't like the sound of the side effects, I always knew that messing with my bodies’ chemistry wouldn't be an easy journey. I let the possibility sink in as the doctor pauses ready to deliver his final option.

"The third option is we do nothing. We simply monitor the situation, run more tests, and meet again later to review first two options again. I presume you are familiar with the scene from the matrix with the red and blue tablets. If you choose either of the first two options, then they will be life changing irreversible decisions. Unlike the movie, you don't have to make that choice now; you can choose to wait until you are certain."

All eyes fell on me. I looked at the tablets on the desk in front of me and pondered which option to take. The doctor put a disposable cup of water next to the tablets should I choose to take any. After a few minutes of silence, I deliver my response.

"Out of the three options, I can definitely say that I don't want to pick option one. I don't think this feeling is going to magically disappear, and all those pills will do is make matters worse. I realise I'm already depressed and the thought of being stuck still wanting to be a girl, but with even less chance of passing, is not something I want to consider. I have never felt suicidal, but I do worry that if this treatment affects my emotional balance, then I might do something stupid."

I shoved the yellow tablets away from me before continuing. "The only reason I haven't grabbed and swallowed a whole bottle of the other tablets is that the rational part of my brain is shouting at me that I should be taking option three. I also have this sneaking suspicion that it's too easy. That you haven't even taken any blood samples yet to determine my current hormone levels. Although I hope and pray that I'm wrong, I suspect that this is some kind of test to see how committed I am, or if this is a wind up, and these are actually placebos, or worse, something like extra strong laxative to teach me a lesson. Which is why I'm going to do this..."

I pick up the plastic beaker of water and one of each of the option two tablets. I pop them in my mouth and swallow them with some water. They don't taste particularly nice, and I pull a slight face. I'm not sure if the taste is a good or bad sign. I looked back at the doctor who was maintaining a poker face with no sign of emotion. "Well," I asked, "can I start celebrating my journey into having the body I should have had from birth, or am I spending the rest of the day sat on the toilet?"

"I wasn't lying when I told you what the tablets are," The doctor said, "but I was grossly exaggerating the dosages. The blue pill is an androgen blocker, but you would need to be on them for months before the effect became irreversible. The other pill is a standard birth control pill a girl your age might take."

"I've heard in sex ed. that they take a couple of weeks to take effect and shouldn't be relied on for contraception immediately," I acknowledged.

"In your case the dose is so low as to not have an effect. While not technically placebos, as they have active ingredients, the effect is the same. You are right in that we need to monitor your hormone levels, so we will schedule you in for some blood tests next week, once the effect of the tablets, if any, has worked its way out of your system."

"In that case," I responded as I picked up the other half of the dose and swallowed the remaining tablets, "I can safely take these anyway. Sure, conventional medicine suggests that they won't work, but the placebo effect has been shown to work under some circumstances, and the mental outlook of the patient can have a physical active effect on their body: mind over matter. Also, if homeopathy is correct, even highly diluted substances can work. Perhaps after being shown what it should be producing, my body will get the message and actually start producing the right chemicals."

The doctor laughed, "I don't think that is likely to happen, but we will be monitoring it in case it does. In the mean time no more tablets, and no self medication, young lady."

I smiled at being called a young lady, and promised not to take anything without a doctors consent. We then discussed my treatment from then on. My doctor would schedule more tests, including blood work. He would also refer me to a specialist, but warned me that it could take weeks, if not months to get an appointment.

"Does that mean I'm forced to return to pretending to be being a boy at school? Although, I do not intend to pretend anything, so I would simply be a girl attending in boy's clothing. I've temporarily been removed from the changing rooms for P.E. over concerns for my welfare, but the school can't justify that arrangement on a permanent basis without a medical justification. Considering that everybody is aware of my status, to be put back in the boys changing room only to be removed at a later date so that I can officially start a real-life test is going to make everyone, not only me, uncomfortable."

"I can understand that," the doctor agreed, "Your headmistress has emailed the surgery explaining the situation and included the observations of your teachers as she thought it might be relevant to your treatment. I also have a daughter in your school, in the year below you, so got to hear from her some of what you have been up to. That was before I realised you were one of my patients. My recommendation is that you be removed from the changing rooms due to it putting you under emotional stress. It will be up to the school what arrangements it chooses to make, but I will stipulate that if you are removed entirely, some alternative form of exercise be undertaken, outside of school hours if needed."

As I waited for the doctor to type and print out a letter to take to the school, I couldn't help but think of the old sitcom, Only Fools and Horses. "He who dares, wins, Rodney," Del boy would often quote. While some may regard me as a 'he', I certainly think of myself as a 'she', although admittedly not as much as I would like to be able to due to my anatomy. I dared to step out and show my true self, and I have won a small victory, in that I haven't been shot down at the first hurdle, and I am being taken seriously. I'm aware that the will be many more battles to be won, and hurdles to jump, but at least I'm out of the starters block and onto the battlefield. I have hope, and many more metaphors to mangle.