Just Another Day.
by
Angharad.
A Gaby fanfic.
“C’mon kiddo, get your bum in gear,” Dave called from downstairs while his sleepy offspring stumbled about upstairs trying to dress himself. He’d been doing it on his own since he was about four years old, so it seemed reasonable for his father to expect him to be able to cope in reasonable time. Obviously he wasn’t, hence a second summons from below.
It was stupid o’clock and still dark, they were racing—or rather Drew was racing, Dave was providing transport, technical and financial support and even at times catering. There was toast on the table and Drew availed himself of it and the mug of tea. He also downed a bowl of cereal as his father attached two wheeled racing device to four wheeled self powered one.
Jenny and Jules were away, so the two men of the household pulled on coats and got into the car after locking up the house. The race was at Lincoln again and last time he’d won it. They’d remember him this time—not if they saw his outfit they wouldn’t.
An hour later and half way to their destination, Dave looked over at his son or should that be daughter? “Dress in hurry, did we?”
“What?” Drew looked down at himself. Oh poo, he’d done it again. He was tired when he carried the clean laundry up to the bedrooms, he’d put the wrong stuff in the wrong rooms. He was besporting Jules’ girliest jeans, dark pink—they’d looked blue in the dark—okay he’d had his eyes closed when he pulled on his panties and sports bra then the jeans and matching top which proclaimed, ‘Girl Power’, underlined by a line of rose buds. How did he not see it? Perhaps he was colour blind—nah—it was all pink, and the jeans had sparkly bits down the seams.
“Better do something with your hair if you’re going as a girl,” was all Dave said.
Drew pulled down the sun visor and took his brush out of his handbag. Why had he brought that—the handbag? This playing with gender roles with Maddy and the others was doing his head in. Yesterday he’d been in full Gaby mode for an evening at the Peters where John usually called him Gaby whatever he was wearing.
“Got any makeup in there?” asked Dave.
“Yeah, why wanna borrow some?” joked Drew.
“No, but if you’re going girly, it might help the disguise.”
“Yeah, okay,” yawned a still sleepy Drew. Then Dave watched amazed as his son applied eye liner and mascara followed by blusher and lip gloss to transform into his younger daughter. “Better?” asked Drew squirting some perfume around his throat and wrists.
Dave shook his head more in disbelief than reply, his son had disappeared and this pretty, diminutive piece of totty had appeared in his place. Her posture changed and instead of a hunched stance which minimised her growing breasts she seemed to flaunt them and they seemed to have doubled in size since she casually shoved a hand down the neck of her top and unself-consciously adjusted them despite her dad being there.
If Dave hadn’t been there at the birth and seen the dangly bits, he’d be convinced they’d spawned two girls. Lincoln loomed and Dave steered the car towards the airfield where the race would happen.
John the chap from the Cuckney tens was there registering the entrants and he smiled at Drew as she stood waiting to sign in and pay her entrance fee. “Hello, lass, going to show these lads how to race?” Most of the queue was made up of spotty youths.
Blushing, Drew replied, “I’ll do my best.”
“Aye, we know that, good luck, lass.”
Drew walked back to change in the car pulling a towel around herself she donned her racing kit—a shirt and tights, it was quite a bit cooler than it had been and keeping thighs and knees warmed reduced cold related injuries such as pulled muscles. A tracksuit top kept the cold away as Drew slipped on her cycling shoes and clomped over to her bike which Dave was checking over again. Sometimes she wondered if he had OCD, but his thoroughness had saved her bacon a couple of times when fraying cables to brakes or gears could have caused disaster had they broken or stretched during a race.
“Remember I put new brake blocks on yesterday, so they’ll pull you up a bit sharper.”
“Yeah, yeah.” A typical teen response, implying, you fix it I’ll ride it.
Dave was aware no cheek was intended and ignored it handing the bike over to his son who looked every bit a young woman and who seemed oblivious to the boys checking out her bum which had nowhere to hide in the lycra cycling tights.
At this age, the sexes weren’t being differentiated so they could both ride in the same race, although the girls were expected to be slower, so a separate prize was awarded to the first boy and first girl. Drew had only one prize in mind—first and the twenty pounds that would bring, but he had to earn it yet.
He did a couple of circuits with another girl, yeah, he was being seen as a girl even by the other girls, who you’d think could tell a fake, but no they didn’t.
The race eventually got under way and an hour and a half later, a rather red faced and sweatier young woman was pocketing the first prize, the girl’s prize and a further prize for breaking the course record by a whole minute. She also held up the trophy, a gilt statuette of a cyclist on a racing bike. This one she got to keep.
“You showering?” asked Dave mounting the bike back on the car rack.
“Dunno, can’t use the boy’s ones can I?”
“I think your mother said they had cubicles in the ladies. Better hurry up or it’ll be too late for breakfast.”
At the mention of food, our heroine grabbed her towel and bag of clothing and found her way to the showers. Emerging from the shower cubicle but three quarter dressed Drew bumped into the girl she’d warmed up with.
“You got a brother?”
Drew blushed, “Uh yeah, why?”
“Just wondered.”
The girl pulled her hair into a ponytail, “I’m gonna get a coffee, fancy one?”
“I’ll have to ask my dad.”
“Bring him along, he can talk to my rents—did you see the bum on that boy with the blue and yellow kit?”
Drew blushed, “Was he on the Giant?”
“Didn’t notice his bike—too busy ogling his bum, think his kit in the front was probably all right too. One boy I raced against last month was hung like an...”
“I’ll go and ask my dad; where’s the coffee?”
“In the cafeteria round the front.”
“Gotcha,” said Drew dashing out to avoid more girl talk. It wasn’t like that, so direct when he was with Maddy and the others. Okay they talk about boys, well the others did, Drew didn’t other than trying to avoid them. He was still blushing when he found Dave who was securing his bike to the bike rack.
“Cor, it’s got colder, kiddo.”
“Um—wanna get a coffee? I’ll buy.” Drew hadn’t caught the other girl’s name.
“If wearing makeup makes you more generous, perhaps you should do it more often,” teased Dave hoping exactly the opposite.
“Hell, I haven’t got any on,” Drew jumped in the car and using the vanity mirror in the front passenger seat, quickly applied some. Dave almost gasped, that was even quicker than on the way up. How come his son could do it in a couple of minutes when his wife and daughter took half the day to get their faces on?
When they entered the cafeteria, one or two others nodded at Drew or exchanged congratulations, then in the queue for the refreshments he saw the other girl—the one he’d spoken to before the race and by the showers.
“It’s Gaby, isn’t it?” she said as they queued behind her.
“Yeah, and this is my dad.”
“Tiff,” she replied, “my rents are over there by the window.” To prove it she waved and they waved back. “What’s your brother’s name?”
“Andrew but everyone calls him Drew.” Drew felt in an almost surreal situation talking about himself as if he was someone else.
“Good job he didn’t come today, weren’t it?”
“We rarely race together.”
“He’s pretty good isn’t he?”
“So they say, but he tries to keep modest about it.”
Dave who was monitoring the conversation snorted at this then blew his nose and ordered some coffees. He paid despite Gaby’s offer. “Put it away, you’ll probably need more mascara or tights next week.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she grinned and Tiff also thanked him for her coffee.
They joined her parents for a very long fifteen minutes where the talk was all about anything but cycling. Tiff did try to keep up a conversation about things girl but once it drifted back to boy’s bums Drew wanted to quit the conversation and soon.
Dave eventually declared they had a long drive home and they set off.
“How’d you get on with Tiff?”
“She’s sex mad,” he piped back.
“What?”
“All she thinks about is boy’s bums.”
Dave laughed, “Well if you’re going to play at being a girl you’d better get used to it. Your mother always said she liked my bum...”
“Not you as well—oh bum.”
A scribble I did back in April just for topical fun.
Lockdown.
by Angharad.
The covid-19 virus had been running amok for nearly a month. If you watched the news every night then it could really depress you, the numbers of cases were growing exponentially and the numbers of deaths were also rising by too great a margin. Over 4,000 in the UK alone, Italy, Spain, China and the US were worse and all of them had taken too long to react to close down the country because each government had acted with more thought on the economics than the human cost, because this is how government thinks. Money is far more valuable than human life--unless it's one their family. Anyone who thinks differently will be disappointed in their government.
The approaches of different nations also varied. Some of the British whipped round supermarkets buying huge quantities of food, possibly just as a panic or perhaps an eye to the long term and the black market. In the US, they queued outside gun shops. Obviously, Americans have better eyesight than Brits because they were going to shoot the virus, an M16 should kill it pretty dead. Well, why else would they want to buy a gun?
Gary Sutton had his hands full with his six year old twin daughters and a self isolating wife, to notice that his twelve year old son, Arthur, was missing. Arthur's best friend and partner in crime was Ollie Boswell who lived in the next street. So as soon as the coast was clear they met behind his garage, which was hidden from most possible vantage points.
It was now eight o clock and would soon be dark enough for them to continue their recent crime wave. Both boys were quite clever and had realised that certain types of double glazing opened after a quick sharp press against the lock. Try enough windows and one or two would open then you could gain entry, and assuming no one was at home, do or take what you liked. Usually they only took cash and tried not to leave any mess.
This night they discovered their plan was flawed. If a house had no lights on or noises from TV or other electronic device they assumed it was empty. However, if you have a sleeping woman martial arts expert, who had just finished a double shift at the local hospice, then the house is very much occupied but may show no lights, no car on the drive or any other way to gauge it.
Ollie soon found one of the weak windows and five minutes later was helping his mate through it. Unaware, Annie Perks, the owner slept upstairs while the boys wandered about in her downstairs rooms, using very fine pen torches to see where they were in the rooms.
They soon saw her purse and helped themselves to half the notes in it, about forty pounds--not a bad night's work for the two juvenile burglars. Their goal was originally to each buy the latest X-Box but the thieving became more fun than playing computer games, where the biggest dangers were boredom or eyestrain.
"Wow, checkout the size of this screen, " said Arthur in Annie's lounge where he discovered a rather large screened television which had all the up to date gizmos and gadgets.
"Oh wow," agreed Ollie and turned it on.
"What're you doing?" asked his friend trying to grab the remote control.
"Relax, there's no one home at the moment, let's just give it a try."
Unfortunately for them, the loud music it produced before Ollie could mute it, woke Annie who having come from deep sleep wondered what day it was. She could hear hushed voices but assumed she'd somehow left the telly on. As she sat up in the bed trying to clear her head, she realised that she had company. Instead of frightening her as it would some women, she just saw red. Uninvited guests, presumably with malice aforethought would get short shrift from her.
The boys continued to channel hop and watch bits of different shows as Annie crept down the stairs and planned how to neutralise the threat to her property. So involved in watching the screen the boys didn't realise she was there until she switched on the lights, tripped one as he tried to run and grabbed the other as he got to the window.
It became very obvious in a less than a minute or two, that the woman was very much in charge and the boys were nabbed. They were scared, ashamed and felt rather stupid. Their perfect plan had let them down, all because Ollie had wanted to watch the stupid telly was a thought forming in Arthur's mind. They could have taken the money and moved on, possibly found another sucker. Now they were in deep doo-doo.
Calming down, Annie, made the boys kneel on the floor with their hands on their heads partly because she was still annoyed and knew that it was a very uncomfortable pose and she wanted to punish them.
So frightened and surprised were the two juveniles that they told her about their activities and she grew angrier. If she called the police they'd just tell them off and let them go and possibly caution her for illegal detention of two juveniles. If she made them send for their parents, they'd get similar as if from the police. She needed to punish them in a way they'd not forget in a hurry and yet would do no long term harm. Then she had a plan.
An hour later, after a very reluctant phone call to their parents, two irritated fathers rang on her doorbell. She invited them in still maintaining social distancing.
"What's going on?" asked Gary, "Where's Arthur?" Ollie's dad simply stood and listened. Annie explained how she'd caught them in her lounge making free with her television. She also reported that they had stolen money from her purse and had apparently been on a nightly crime spree. Both dads felt ashamed and angry with things of a draconian nature being muttered.
"Oh, I've already punished them."
Each father looked at the other unsure of what they thought about she was claiming.
"Don't worry, they aren't hurt - except perhaps for a bit of teenage hubris. Come down girls." she called up the stairs and two bodies each dressed in a majorette costume, with garish makeup and nails, stumbled into the room. Their fathers were astonished and then burst out laughing.
"My nieces were majorettes and I discovered their costumes the other day. I had put them in the charity bag when I decided they could be used one last time. Take a curtsey girls, they did each other's make up and nails."
The fathers weren't quite sure what to think or say, but somehow giving them a kick in their egos may be just what they needed to break them of their newfound activities which if they continued would sooner or later have an encounter with the law, which neither wanted for their sons
.
"Have you brought the car, Dad?" Arthur pleaded of his father.
"No, we're walking home," said Gary much to Annie's approval.
"I can't go home like this?"
"Wanna bet, son, and if you don't shut up I'll walk you back tomorrow to apologise to this lady.
"I feel sick," gasped Ollie and dashed out to the cloakroom.
Both boys took ages to live down their appearances that night, especially as both fathers took photos on their phones for reinforcement if they even breathed out of line for the next six months.
The sisters of our hardened criminals had the most fun teasing the boys who spent some time in purgatory as a consequence, but a few months later, things had gone back to normal with the exception of the two boys' behaviour, their dads only had to meet with the slightest dissent and reached for their phones and the boys suddenly became compliant, very compliant but it showed they were capable of learning new and better behaviours and perhaps something more important, the frisson of excitement of visiting other peoples' homes had been lost before it got them into real trouble and criminal records.