I was tempted to say, ‘You never do anyway,’ because he didn’t but he was in potential disaster territory this time. It’s strange because, usually it’s big brothers who help younger siblings, in our family that seems upside down.

Brian is sixteen and in love with Megan, the problem is he was in love with Liz last week and wrote her a letter to prove it. Liz has threatened to show the letter to Megan.

Karen is his friend’s girlfriend and is like a sister to him, her sister Gemma is the same age as me, eleven, well nearly twelve–okay so it’s eleven months away.

My name is Kyle and I hate it. It’s an American name, and I’m a dyed in the wool Brit. That isn’t why I hate it, it’s because everyone calls me Kylie, like the Aussie singer. I’m shortish, okay five feet tall, that’s a hundred and fifty two point four centimetres. It sounds a lot until you consider nearly everyone else is ten centimetres taller, and that includes the girls.

So I have a thing about my height, so what? I compensate. I tried to be aggressive until I found that only got me a few hidings. So I got sneaky, I use my brain, which is an anagram of Brian and as close as he gets to having any of the ol’ grey matter.

I can’t outfight him, ‘cos he’s loads bigger than me, but I can out think him and frequently do. He’s impulsive, I’d like to be but I’ve become so much stronger by controlling my urges, that it’s almost a habit. He blows his money, I save mine, he borrows from me, but he pays interest.

I’m better academically than him, or shall we say I’m cleverer. He wants me to go into the girl’s school and break into a locker and retrieve his incriminating letter. I can do it no problem, one of my hobbies is playing with locks, in other words picking them. In our road, if anyone gets locked out they don’t send for a locksmith, they send for me. I enjoy the challenge. Also if anyone is throwing away a lock, they tend to give them to me.

“Come on, Kylie, say you’ll do it?”

“Up yours, I told you if you call me that once more….”

“What, you’ll cry your little girl eyes out?”

“No you big ape, I’ll scratch yours out.”

“Spoken like a true girly, now are you gonna do it or shall I spread some nasty rumours about you and let’s see, Philip Gonorrhoea.”

“His name is Gonnersal, and that’s like, so unnecessary, we only play badminton together.” I blushed, I wasn’t very masculine but Phil was, we play doubles and he tends to play back court and I play on the net, ‘cos I’m smaller.

“So if you have nothing to hide, why are you blushing?”

“I am not,” I said stamping my foot, very macho! Then I felt my eyes fill with water.

“Oh, doesn’t he know you have a crush on him?”

“I don’t, he’s just a friend, alright.”

“Yes, your boyfriend.”

“No! I’m not gay!” I protested and the tears started to flow.

“Oh poor little Kylie, don’t cry, baby, you’ll ruin your makeup.”

I gave him the finger, “Get your own letter back.” I turned to leave when he grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me round, pushing me hard into the wall of the garage.

“Look here, girly boy, if you don’t get that letter back, I shall destroy your friend and his reputation by the end of the week. Remember what happened to Danny.”

I gulped, Dan was my then best friend, and we did everything together. Brian wanted to borrow some money and I wouldn’t loan it to him. He told everyone Dan and I were lovers. Dan got beaten up, he has no elder brother, and his mother removed him from school citing me as a bad influence.

Kids haven’t forgotten, I sit on my own to change for gym or games and I shower at home. Most of the boys call me Kylie and it hurts. I’m not gay, I’m just not very butch.

“So, you gonna do it for me, or do I get your little mate?”

I swore under my breath at him.

“What, is that a yes or a no?”

“Alright, I’ll do it. How am I supposed to get into the school?”

“That’s your problem, but if Megan sees that note, you’re dead meat and so is your little friend.” He kissed me on the top of the head and I was so tempted to swing my hand hard into his groin, but I knew he’d kill me.

How was I going to get into the school? I’d been there once, to a dance with Gemma, her escort went down with rabies or something the night before, so she asked me to go. It was okay, I suppose, except they kept asking her if she was babysitting and had to bring me along.

I called Gemma. She’s pretty quick on the uptake, and when I explained the situation to her she told me to come over. I got my bike out, yeah another point of contention. My dad bought me a really nice one, cost him four or five hundred quid. I left it outside a shop and it went walkies. I was only in there two minutes.

Because I hadn’t locked it, the insurance wouldn’t pay, so I had to buy one myself. Of course Brian said he knew someone who was selling a good bike for fifty quid, so I gave him the money. It’s a good one, a mountain bike, a Trek, but it’s a girl’s one and is pink and silver. He thought it was hilarious, so did my dad, who told me I had to use it for at least a year before he’d consider buying me another. I suppose it does the job, except it hardly enhances my credibility. Brian calls it my, ‘Barbie bike’, my response is unprintable.

Ten sweaty minutes later, I arrived at Gemma’s and she offered me a cold drink. It went down really well, ice cold Coke, except it then gave me a silly pain in the belly cum chest.

“You didn’t have to drink it all so fast,” she said shaking her head as I tried to stifle a burp in front of Karen.

“Hi, Kylie,” she said and I blushed and burped at the same time. “You need to teach your girlfriend some table manners, Gem,” she said laughing. Karen was so gorgeous, I didn’t mind her teasing me. She’s natural blonde with lovely long hair and a figure to die for, with the face of an angel above that wonderful chest. Gemma is going to be just as beautiful, so maybe I should be grateful for small mercies, that I am allowed in the presence of these two lovelies.

I went to make a retort to Karen, when it was overridden by another, longer burp, I went so red, I must have looked and sounded like a sonic tomato. Both girls fell about laughing. My eyes were watering, but with the gastric games my body was playing, and maybe just a little embarrassment thrown in for good measure.

“So what are you doing over here?” asked Karen.

“He’s on a rescue mission,” offered Gemma.

“To rescue what?”

“Brian, who else?”

“What’s he done this time?”

“He wrote note to Liz declaring his undying love, then went out with Megan. Liz is pretty pissed with him and is threatening to show the note to Megan.”

“Doesn’t he ever learn?” asked Karen, “I mean, I got the last one back for him.”

“Yeah, I know, you couldn’t like, help again, could you?” I asked hoping my luck was about to improve.

“Uh uhhh, no way, sorry, Kylie, but no can do.” She looked at me, “Sorry, kiddo, not this time.”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Okay, I hope you didn’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all sweety-pie, where is it any way?”

“In her locker.”

“So you’re just gonna walk in, break into her locker and take it?”

“Yeah, sort of, it needs a bit of refining,” I added as she started to laugh.

“The only males in our school are the teachers and occasional workman. I don’t honestly think you could impersonate either of those, Kylie.”

“Look, I only need about two minutes to get into the locker.”

“I think she has a key and a padlock on hers.” Karen smiled wrily.

“What?” I said, “It’s double locked?”

“I think so.”

“Shoot, that means I’ll need another minute.”

“It’s one of those big heavy Chubb padlocks, because she sometimes keeps her photographic stuff in her locker.”

“Aw hell, why couldn’t he go out with someone else?”

“Can you pick those?” asked Gemma.

“Yeah, but it takes longer.”

“How much longer?”

“I dunno till I see it.”

“How long have we got?”

“Till Friday. Megan’s away until then.”

“Do you know it’s even in there?”

“Not for sure but, I think she hinted to him. If it was in her bag, he could have got it himself, but in her locker he can’t.”

“She could have it at home.”

“Nah, too saucy for that, in case her mum saw it.”

“So that leaves school.”

“That’s what he thinks.”

“Doesn’t he have any consideration for his little sister, sending you on these suicide missions?”

“I’m not his sister.”

“No, of course you’re not, but if you got your hair cut it would help.”

“When Jimmy Page gets his cut, so will I.”

“You still like Led Zeppelin, they’re old enough to be your father. With hair like that are you sure Jimmy Page isn’t your dad?”

“I wish,” I said dreamily.

“So how do you propose to get into the school?”

“Like sneak in and sneak out.”

“Past the security cameras.”

“They didn’t have those when I went to the dance.”

“They do now, I don’t think they can see the lockers, but the ins and outs, they do.”

“Plus even if you were to disguise yourself as a boy–I mean a girl––” she winked at the deliberate slip and I blushed whilst they both sniggered, “they’ll see you getting in and out. In is no problem, but out, you’d be stopped before you got to the gate unless it was at lunchtime or end of day.”

“Oh damn,” I said and sat down dejectedly.

“I think you’d make a kewl-looking girl,” smiled Gemma.

“No problem, it’s looking like a boy that difficult for her,” Karen teased.

“Gee thanks!”

“We get you in during the morning, you hide in the loo, do the deed and leave at lunchtime.”

“As a schoolgirl?”

“No a troll, so no one will notice, duh!” said Karen.

“What wearing a school uniform? A skirt?” I said my voice squeaking with emotion.

“Duh! No a Father Christmas outfit! What do you expect in a girl’s school?”

“But what if someone sees me?”

“They will see you, Kylie, that’s the whole plan, because once you escape, they’ll be looking for a girl - not a boy.”

“Where will I change?”

“Back here or your own house.”

“I can’t go home in a skirt!” I nearly exploded with shame.

“Why not, we do it?”

“Everyday,” added Gemma.

“Hi, Kylie,” called an adult voice.

“Hi, Mrs Smith,” I called back to the girl’s mother.

“Are you staying for lunch?”

I looked questioningly at the girls, Karen nodded and Gemma yelled back, “yes.”

“Ten minutes then, girls.”

“I’m not a girl.” I muttered under my breath.

“With a name like Kylie and long blonde hair, sure you’re not?”

“My name is Kyle.”

“Nah, that’s an American name, no one uses it here, but they do Kylie.”

“Karen–“ I began, she smirked and I threw up my hands, “why do I bother?”

“Exactly, so we have ten minutes to make you presentable, up to my room now.” She yanked me by the arm and sent Gemma off for something to her own room.

In her room, which was quite girly for a sixteen year old, all lace curtains and pictures of pop groups, she sat me in front of her dressing table and began to comb my hair.

“What ya doin’?” I asked moving me head away from the brush.

“Hold still or I’ll thump you.” Karen is always so ladylike.

I did sit still and began to enjoy this teen goddess playing with my locks. I was so out of it, feeling the blood engorging a tiny part in my trousers, I didn’t notice the snipping sound until she cut me a fringe across my face.

“What are you doing?”

“Tidying it up.”

“But you just cut a load off.”

“Relax, I’m sure Jimmy Page won’t mind if he sees you while he’s collecting his pension. Unless he fancies you.”

“What!” I gasped.

“See, makes quite a lot of difference.” I gazed into the mirror, she’d turned my proto rock star look into a schoolgirl.

“Oh my god, I’m dead.” I had to go to school tomorrow and the next day and the next.

“Don’t worry just tie it back in a ponytail.”

“I never wear it in a ponytail.”

“Well you should, Kylie, it really suits you.”

Gemma tore into the room with a bundle of clothes, “Looks nice, Kylie.”

“I am not wearing those––”

“How nice to see you in a skirt for a change, Kylie, you look really nice.”

I mumbled some thanks to Mrs Smith as I sat at the table and started to nibble at my salad. The girls hid their sniggers, although in my hypersensitive state, I could hear flies mating in next door’s garden.

How could my day off school have gone so wrong. The whole town had a school holiday as all the teachers went to a training day for SATS or some other thing. Until I ran into Brian, I was quite contented, now look at me!

“Can we have some money Mum?” asked Karen.

“What for?”

“To go and see a film.”

“I suppose so, is Kylie going with you?”

Before I could say no, Gemma said, “Yes, course, we’re going to see a chick flick.”

“Help me wash up and I’ll run you into town.”

“Yeah!” said Gemma, raising her hands. I just blushed.

By the time Gemma and her mother had cleared up the kitchen, Karen had dragged me back upstairs and painted my face and nails, squirted some smelly stuff all over me and shoved my Crocs back on my feet, the only original piece of clothing I had on. Okay, they are yellow, it was the only colour they had left in my size, apart from pink, so what did you expect me to do?

Karen shoved my keys and money into a small backpack and handed it to me. “Better get used to carrying one of these, you’ll need it for your safe breaking kit and lip gloss.”

“How come this doesn’t happen to James Bond?”

“He doesn’t have a brother called Brian,” said Karen and we both laughed.

My blood pressure was on gasket blowing levels as the two girls walked me through the streets of town towards the multiplex. We saw loads of kids and at one point had a group of boys follow us to the cinema.

“Who’s your friend, Gemma?” asked one, a certain George Carstairs, a boy in the year above me.

“She’s out of your class,” snapped Karen, trying to deter him.

“Maybe she’d like to come and sit with us for ‘Ironman’?” asked George.

“She wouldn’t, so naff off.”

“Why doesn’t she answer for herself?” he said running around and standing directly in front of me. “Eh, darlin’?”

“No thanks, I’m okay with my friends,” I said, hoping my voice sounded female enough.

“Bloody lezzies, I ’spect,” said a voice from behind me which I was pretty sure belonged to Patrick Swain.

“Well if you’re the pick of the boys, it may be only feasible option,” Karen threw back and I nearly wet myself, I was so nervous and laughing was not a good thing to do.

At the cinema, we all trooped to the loo and I sat and stared at the door while I weed, wondering how I had been railroaded into this situation. If I was caught now, I’d be in serious bother. I consoled myself with thinking how Brian was going to pay, probably with his life, some horrible poison. I began to feel better.

The film was okay, I suppose apart from the bit where we all cried and I smudged my eyes. Karen had to sort my makeup out when we left. Then the girls marched me into a branch of Claire’s and I came out with pierced ears, I was so shocked I didn’t even protest.

On the way home, seated on the back seat of the bus, the two girls plotted some more.

“What do you need to get in the locker?”

“Why?”

“Just tell us.”

“My little tool kit.”

“Does Brian know it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Karen started to text, “Where is it?” she asked, then continued after I told her it was in my bedroom.

A few minutes later, her phone beeped. She read it and nodded, “Brian is going to bring it over later.”

“Why can’t I bring it with me tomorrow?”

“How are you going to disguise yourself tomorrow?”

“Erm, pass,” I said and looked at the floor of the bus.

“So if you stayed over tonight, we can sort you out tomorrow morning.”

“What!”

“Yeah, here call your mother and say you’re staying with us.”

“What!”

“Just do it.” Karen was quite forceful when she wanted.

I complied and handed her back the phone. I told her some yarn about borrowing some books at Gemma’s to research for some coursework in history. She swallowed it.

What I was going to do tomorrow about missing my own school and coping with hiding in the girl’s one, was causing my tummy to knot. Oh boy, I’m going to enjoy killing Brian.

After supper, Gemma and I were playing a computer game when Brian arrived with my kit, a series of small screwdrivers and lock-picks I’d made or accumulated over the last couple of years.

He nearly didn’t recognise me when he came in but once he did, he laughed cruelly at me. “Hey, you look good, little sister,” he said sniggering.

I just thought, ‘Where can I get hold of some strychnine ?’

He caught me unawares when he snapped me with his camera phone, “Never know when I might need insurance,” he said.

Damn! He’d started to think for himself, this was doubly worrying.

Gemma lent me a nightdress, and Brian had brought my toothbrush, I’ll bet he didn’t think of it though. Then it was off to bed and I was sharing with Gemma. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.

“You make such a pretty girl, Kylie, have you ever thought maybe…..”

“I’d like to be one, no way. This is just a means to an end.”

“It’s a shame, because you could stay more often if you were.”

“Tempting as the invitation might be, I don’t think so. I’m a boy, remember, I do boy things.

“Like badminton?”

“Yeah, like badminton.”

“Is it true that Phil is going to enter you two in the mixed doubles?”

“What? Don’t be daft, he can’t we’re both boys.”

“It was just a rumour I’d heard, apparently he thinks you might have a better chance than against the boys.”

“What, that’s crap!”

“Like I said, it’s just a rumour.”

“But I play as well as anyone else,” I said sniffing.

“Don’t cry, Kylie, I’m sure it’s just malicious gossip.”

I felt the tears run down my face, I’m sure Philip wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Are you crazy, I think I know how a suicide bomber feels, very alone.”

“But we’ll be with you,” she said and I could almost hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, but it won’t be your reputation on the line.”

“If you get caught, we’ll be in it too.”

“No, I won’t talk.”

“My name tapes are in the clothes you’ll be wearing.”

“Oh! I still won’t talk or let them search me.” I had visions of men with rubber gloves pulling them on up to their shoulders and I felt myself shudder.

“I think you make a really sweet girl and so does Karen.”

Gee whiz! Thanks I don’t think. “Look, before you try to get me accepted by the netball team, I’m a boy, okay, got that?”

“How did you know we’re short for the netball side?”

“Oh jeez, I didn’t.”

“Are you psychic?”

“Don’t be daft, if I was, I’d have run a mile before Brian found me.”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled and so did I, I mean it was so farcical. Like a Carry On film, only somehow, this got scripted for real. Oh poo!

Somehow we managed to get to sleep, but even so I awoke feeling like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, something which was reflected in my enthusiasm for leaving my bed. It took both Karen and Gemma to drag me from my duvet bunker, and shove me into the shower.

“Why have I got to wear a bra?” I protested, already feeling emasculated in the pink panties.

“Because you’ll look a bit flat-chested otherwise,” said Karen rolling her eyes.

I wriggled and Karen said, “Hold still, girl,” as she stuffed two foam inserts into the bra. She stood back to appraise the effect, “Yes, that looks okay.”

I glanced at myself in the mirror and shuddered, even with my straggly wet hair, I’d lost myself to this girl who was using my body. It felt sad and exciting at the same time.

“Oh wow!” exclaimed Gemma as she saw me in her underwear. “You look really kewl,” she smiled and handed me a blouse which I hurriedly tried to don to hide my semi-nakedness.

Of course the buttons were on the wrong side and I fumbled.

“Come on, girl, we need to hurry,” urged Karen as she took over the buttoning.

I was about to protest about the form of address, but in the circumstances thought I might be overruled.

I stepped into the skirt and it was zipped and buttoned around my waist. It was navy as were the tights they offered me. I’ll bet the shoes don’t fit, I thought to myself. But I was wrong.

“Look after these, they’re my best ones,” said Gemma with emphasis. I promised to guard them with my life. Let’s face it, if I was caught, it would be over anyway.

My tummy knotted again as the butterflies inside it practised macramé or tatting. I felt quite sick.

After the tie was put around my neck, I did protest, “Look, I can tie a tie, I wear one every day, okay?”

“Nah,” said Gemma, “we girls wear ‘em differently.” She then tied the most appalling knot I have ever seen.

“Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to tie a tie properly?” I stood on the little dignity still in my possession.

“Look, Kylie, we haven’t got time to argue, I need to do your makeup, so sit down.”

“Makeup? But we’re going to school?”

“Yeah, so?” Karen dismissed me and began putting some dark brown eyeliner around my eyes, then finished with mascara. “Here, you do the lip gloss.” So saying she shoved the instrument of embarrassment into my hand.

“I can’t, can I?”

“If you can pick locks, I’m sure you can run a bit of that on your lips.” She stood over me while I had a go. It wasn’t the best I could do, how did I know that? She made me wipe it off and do it again, twice. Third time lucky. She gave me a beautiful smile and I felt like I’d been inducted into some secret society. “See, I knew you could do it, remember to do it again after brekkies.”

“I don’t feel very hungry,” I said rubbing my temperamental tum.

“You gotta eat or Mummy will smell a rat,” Gemma suggested.

“As I don’t go to your school normally, won’t she anyway?”

“It’ll be cool, don’t worry.”

Karen blow dried my hair and brushed it, she’d rubbed mousse or gel in it and it looked even more girly than yesterday. The ear studs glinted in the light. Just how was I going to reverse all this when I got home.

I draped the cardi around my shoulders, girl fashion and followed them downstairs.

“Are you looking forward to this day with my two?” Mrs Smith asked pleasantly.

“Oh yes, it’ll be a change from my school.” I answered, without emphasising how big a change.

“I think these exchange days are a good idea, don’t you?”

“I’m sure they are, Mrs Smith.”

“Well eat up then, Kylie, you’ll need the energy to get through the morning, I like your hair by the way, you should wear it like that more often, frames your face really well, shows off your cheekbones.”

“Thank you, Karen helped me.”

“Yes, she’s good with hair.”

The best bit about breakfast was, it was eaten at the Smith’s house. Mr was away on business, he’s consultant in something or other. My dad is a pharmacist and looks after a chain of shops for a national company, so he’s away quite a lot too. My mother is a teacher at the local primary school. At least that meant I could nip in lunch time and change and scuttle back to school for the afternoon. Brian was supposed to take in a forged note saying I had a dental appointment. He threatened to tell them I was off with, a heavy period. I’m gonna have to kill him, I wonder if Daddy will help me?

’Daddy!, where the hell did that come from, I haven’t called him that since I was about five. Must be these stupid clothes.”

“Redo your lip gloss,” whispered Gemma as we finished breakfast.

“What? Oh, oh yeah,” I said when she pulled out hers plus the little mirror. I hope I didn’t make too big a mess of it, maybe I didn’t because Karen smiled and nodded.

“We’ll make a girl of you yet, Kylie.” She whispered.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I winced back, now I had wind. I held my hand over the griping pain.

“You alright?” asked Mrs Smith.

“Yeah, she’s just come on,” sniggered Karen.

“Well it’s hardly funny is it?” said her mother with some annoyance.

“Do you want something for it, Kylie?”

“I’ll be alright, Mrs Smith, it does this sometimes. It’ll be alright when I move about a bit.”

She popped back into the kitchen and gave me two paracetamol tablets, “Here take these with you, in case you need them.”

Rather than argue, I took them and put them in the bag Gemma had shoved towards me. I’d forgotten it already. It felt quite heavy with my tools in it.

Mrs S, dropped us at the school gates, which meant we still had a hundred yards to walk. I was dreading this.

Karen moved on but I noticed her keeping a wary eye on me. I walked with Gemma and we got loads of attention from her friends, who all wanted to know who I was.

We’d agreed I was having a trial day to see if I liked it, because we were moving to the area, from Bournemouth — my grandparents lived there, near Boscombe.

After actually getting into the building, I excused myself and went into the girl’s toilets and after putting the seat cover down, sat on it, keeping my feet from view. The door was obviously shut, but so were most of them.

This was going to be a long three hours, a very long one. I checked my mobile, Karen was going to be walking past the corridor a bit later, she’d call by to check on me.

I sat and listened to my tummy rumble. Tummy? What sort of a word is that? Whatever it was, it was the source of some noise, which sounded deafening to me.

I sat there, holding onto my knees as my alimentary system gurgled and bubbled, finally enabling me to burp. That felt a little easier.

For something to do, I checked my lip gloss, easy-peasy. I wish I didn’t look such a fox, it was unnatural. I’m a boy, a rather small one with at this moment, an even smaller proof of it than usual. Fear does that, like cold water, shrivels everything up.

I ran through my plan. I’d seen the locker and the locks, I could do them, I was sure of that. I’d even sneaked out and picked the locker one, so that was one down.

When I got back to the loo, I really did need to go and it just poured out of me. I think I passed my tonsils at one point. Nerves I suppose, cor and did it pong.I cleaned myself up and sat back in my ‘cell’. I was waiting for the bell to go again announcing the last lesson. Then I was going to wait five minutes and finish the job.

I was so engrossed in trying to relax, when there was a double knock at the door. I jumped and fell off the seat, dropping my bag. I felt icy cold.

“Kylie, are you okay?” Hissed a voice, it was Karen.

I opened the cubicle door. “Yeah, apart from the squits.”

“Are you sure, you’re okay? Oh, what’s that smell?”

“Erm,” I shrugged.

“Goodness, it smells like something died in there.”

“Hopefully it will keep others away.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Anyway, two more bells and we’re out of here. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, thanks, Karen.”

“S’okay, every girl needs a big sister.”

“Can I swap Brian for you?”

“I don’t think Gemma would like it. He’s not too bad really.”

“You don’t live with him,” I sighed.

“No, thank goodness. I’ve got to go.” She disappeared and I went back to my perch, redid my lip gloss, at least my hands had stopped shaking now, and waited for the bell.

I didn’t have my watch with me, so I watched the time on my mobile.

The bell went. I waited for five minutes. I got out the tools I’d need and held them in my hand as I approached the locker. My heart absolutely pounded in my ears as my shaking hands grappled with the big Chubb lock. They are good, but so am I and finally it popped open.

I stuck it on top of the locker. Pulled at the door, it was still shut. Shit! She must have come and used the locker since I did the catch. No matter, except my hands were shaking so much. Damn, I still had pink nail varnish on. I hadn’t noticed that before. Damn, Karen!

I fumbled with the lock, it took me longer than before, but it opened. I searched in amongst the stuff in there, makeup, books, even a camera lens and sanitary towels, but no letter.

Shit! I checked through it again. It wasn’t there, holy shit! Where could it be? I heard footsteps, quietly closed the locker and shoved the Chubb back on it, then scuttled back to my cubicle.

I perched back on the loo seat and texted Brian. ‘Opnd lckr, snot thr. K.’

A few minutes later, I got a reply. ‘It mst b, lk agen, OR ELSE! B.’

I felt even sicker now. I’d kept my part of the bargain, it wasn’t fair, he wasn’t fair. Why didn’t he believe me. I’m beginning to hate boys, especially big hairy ones like Brian.

“So what do I do now?” I asked myself as I waited for the bell and the two girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for help in the proofing, any mistakes still here are mine.
A.aG.

Totally Insane 2 (completed.)

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

500 < Short Story < 7500 words

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 2(completed).

The toilet seat grew harder as I sat and waited for the last bell. I wondered what I could do, maybe Karen or Gemma would have some ideas.

I reflected on how long I’d known them. Karen and Brian used to knock about in a gang, and I got to know Gemma a year or two ago. She of course picked up on the mispronunciation of my name and I assumed her mother thought I was a girl. I did have long hair back then, and I’d only been to her house a few times, so it seemed like a reasonable error. Now, if I went there again, I’d have to stay in unisex or girly mode.

I thought about Brian, he’d never know if I tried again or not. Then again, he could still destroy my friendship with Philip. Oh shoot! I’m an easy going sort of lad who avoids upsetting others and who respects the feelings of others, so why does this shit always seem to happen to me?

Why does everybody want me to be a girl? Or do they, maybe they just like someone smaller than them, they can threaten or humiliate. It isn’t fair. Yet if I attempt to hit back I always seem to get the worst of it. The number of times I tried it with Brian, now I just accept it.

I suppose because I’m small and delicate looking, they assume I’m effeminate and gay. I don’t know if I am or not, I like being with the girls, especially the Smith girls, but I don’t know why, except they make me feel good. They tease me, but it’s friendly teasing unlike Brian’s which is mean.

I spent the night with Gemma and nothing happened, I didn’t even get excited, maybe I am gay or just a late developer. I don’t know. I felt my eyes fill with tears again and I managed to blot them with some toilet paper. If I go out of here looking like a panda, I will draw attention to myself.

I checked my phone, it was nearly twelve. Thank goodness for that. My throat began to dry a bit and my stomach began to cramp again. If this was how periods felt, I was glad to be a boy.

Life is tough, mine at this moment felt particularly so. I readied myself for the bell, checked my lip gloss - it gave me something to do. The bell went and I managed to jump and get some up my nose. I remedied it with a tissue.

I was just about to leave, when I decided I needed to go to the loo. I shut the door again and sat down and weed then broke wind, but that was all. I wiped and washed my hands. Other girls came in and looked at me, I smiled back but gave no more than a nod.

I walked out of the loos and down the corridor to the entrance, Karen was there and nodded at me. I walked out of the school and back towards her house.

Some four or five hundred yards on the way to her house is a bit of a green with some bench seats. I sat there and waited for Karen. She came about ten minutes later.

“Did you get it?”

“No, it wasn’t there.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“Yes, I searched it twice. I can even tell you how many sanitary towels she has.”

“Too much information!” she said pulling a face. “So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well you tried.”

“Tell Brian.”

“I take it you did.”

“He continued to make threats.”

“What sort of threats?”

“Once before when I annoyed him, he put round rumours I was gay. My best friend at the time got beaten up and his mother removed him from the school. I’m still treated like a leper in the changing rooms.”

“He did that to you and you still help him?”

“He threatened to do the same to Philip Gonnersal.”

“Do I know him?”

“I dunno, I play badminton with him.”

“Oh he was the guy who was entering for the mixed doubles competition, I knew I knew the name.”

“Not with me.”

“I don’t recall there being a second name.”

“Maybe he’s got a girl friend?” I asked the universe.

“Probably. So what are we going to do now?”

“I can’t do anything else, can I? If it’s not there, it could be anywhere or no where.”

“What did Brian say?”

I showed her the text. She shook her head.

“All suggestions gratefully received.”

At this point Gemma arrived. “Goodness, I had an awful job getting rid of Sylvie Fisher. Did you get it?”

“No, she didn’t,” said Karen.

“Oh, so that was a waste of time?”

“Yep,” I confirmed. I looked at both the sisters, “Why does your mother think I’m a girl?”

Karen got up off the seat and asked for my phone, She told me to stand next to Gemma. She then took a picture of the two of us. Then she handed the phone back. It looked like two school girls, me being the smaller one.

“But before that, I remember the first time I came over she called to you that, ‘Kylie was here,’ and I distinctly said Kyle.”

“The long hair I expect. It’s longer than mine, and once she thought you were a girl, it’s stayed that way.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“If she thought you were a boy, do you think she’d have let you stay last night?”

“No, probably not.”

“Some things are best left unsaid.”

“Wow! That’s philosophical,” said Karen, mocking her sister.

“What am I going to do?” I asked trying to refocus on my problem.

“Get some lunch?” asked Gemma.

“Good idea,” agreed Karen and we wandered off back to their house.

Unfortunately, their mother didn’t work, so she was home when we got there. “So how did it go, Kylie?” she asked me.

“It was very similar to my school, you know, books and boring lessons.”

The two girls laughed and so did Mrs Smith. “Anything different?”

“Yes, the walls in the toilets are grey, in my school, they’re pink.”

“Is that the only difference?”

“As far as I noticed.”

“Did you see the sports facilities?” she asked.

“Not really, just boring classrooms.”

“Shame, they’re supposed to be very good.”

“Oh come on, Mummy, give her a break. It’s a school, they’re all much of a muchness.” Karen tried to rescue me.

“How was the film yesterday?” she asked the three of us, and I let the girls do the talking.

It got so involved, that we were late finishing lunch, so she ran us back to school in the car. I had planned on sneaking off home, however, now I couldn’t.

As we walked up the driveway to the school again, Karen suggested I went to the library and hid in there. I agreed, at least it was better than staying in the loo. She got Gemma to show me where it was, then they told me they’d collect me at home time.

I found a table in the corner, where I couldn’t be seen from the desk. I picked up a couple of books on history and sat myself down. I was quite enjoying myself, and learning something too.

During the second lesson, a few older girls came and went, some sat on the table next to me, they were laughing and joking and it distracted me. I heard the name Megan mentioned and my ears pricked up.

They were waiting for her apparently. My reading became very difficult and I turned over pages just to make it look as if I as reading. My curiosity was aroused.

Finally it was sated, when a statuesque girl arrived. She was very pretty but not as much as Karen, and she had smaller boobs too. So was this the Megan, Brian fancied.

“Hi, Meg,”

“Hi, Liz,” she said and sat down next to Liz.”

“So did he offer to buy the letter?” asked Liz.

“No, he tried to be clever and told me to publish and be damned.”

“Someone said that didn’t they?”

Duke of Wellington, I thought to myself. They could hardly expect Brian to be original now, could they?

“Does he know we know each other?”

“Don’t be daft, besides, it’s putting it on my web page that’s even funnier. I’ve already scanned it, so even if he gets it back, it’s too late!”

“You are like, so wicked, Liz,” commented Megan.

“Aw come on, it could hardly happen to a nicer guy, what an a-hole!”

“Yeah, I suppose so. Isn’t he the one with the gay little brother, looks like a girl?”

“Does he, I dunno.

I felt myself blushing, these two were real harpies. Brian deserved all he gets, but why are they dragging me into it.

“Yeah, calls himself Kylie, probably fixated on the Aussie dwarf.”

“Dwarf?” exclaimed Megan.

“Yeah, she’s only about five foot tall. So is he apparently, maybe that’s the connection.”

“So does he look like her?” asked Megan.

“Who?” asked Liz.

“The one who looks like Kylie Minogue, I mean does he look like her?”

“I dunno, never seen him or her, whichever it is.”

“Well Brian is good looking, with a nice body, six pack and so on. Bit small somewhere else, but I have no complaints.”

I was really blushing now. Imagine me, looking like Kylie Minogue! Hah! Okay we’re both blonde, and short and…oh hell! Nah, she is prettier than I am, I hope. Well Dr Who fell in love with her, so she can’t be all bad. I actually cried when she died at the end of the episode, it was at Christmas. Imagine kissing Dr Who….I reran that thought in my head. I had to get out of these clothes, they were softening my brain.

“How much did he offer to pay for it?”

“A tenner.”

“Is that all?”

“He said he’d have to borrow that from his little sister.”

I coughed and they both looked round at me. I coughed some more.

“You alright?” asked Megan.

I nodded but coughed again. She passed me some Polos and I took one and thanked her, passing them back. I sucked on the sweet and it helped my throat.

Megan said, “I think someone was trying to get into my locker.”

“Why?”

“Well the catch was undone, but the big padlock I have was untouched.”

“You probably just forgot to lock it.”

“Yeah, probably, or it’s faulty.”

So people seemed to have all sorts of odd ideas about me. How could they think I was a girl for god’s sake? I touched up my lip gloss. So Brian was screwed whatever he did, he’d need to find someone to take down Liz’s website. He was going to ask me for some more money, he can go and whistle. I fancy Dr Who! Aw come on! That was just my mind playing tricks on me, mind you he is rather nice is David Tennant.

The bell rang and the final lesson was beginning. My time in skirts had not been wasted. Then I had a sudden thought, no wonder the letter was missing, it was the wrong locker.

I checked on my phone, I didn’t have either Karen’s or Gemma’s number. Damn, there was no way I was going to do this again. Besides, it was a waste of time if she was posting it on the web.

Just before the end of the afternoon, Gemma came to get me. “Enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes, except I wasted my morning, you gave me the wrong locker.”

“I didn’t that was Karen. I don’t know any of that lot. Whose was it then?”

“Megan’s, they are both in it together.”

“Oh, let’s go and find Karen.”

We couldn’t find her but went off to the seats on the green again. I was now fairly comfortable in the skirt and tights, although it was breezier than trousers. Gemma and I chatted as we passed away the time until Karen arrived.

I told them both what I’d overheard, including the locker. She went a lovely shade of puce when she realised she’d got the wrong locker.

“Of course, it was Liz’s locker you wanted. Oh hell, I told you Megan’s, sorry.”

“It hardly matters anyway if she has a copy on her computer. Brian will have to find someone to take down her website and computer.”

“Can you do that?” asked Gemma incredulously.

“I can’t, but there are kids who can.”

“How disappointing, you struck me as one of those girls who can do anything,” she gave away the tease when the corners of her mouth went up.

“Yeah, including getting away with murder.”

“Why, who are you going to kill?” Karen asked, the blush now fading.

“Brian, very slowly and painfully, unless he tops himself after this letter goes on the net.”

“Why? It’s a bit drastic, isn’t it?”

“No, he’s asked for it many times. When he saw me yesterday, he took a photo on his phone in case he wanted to blackmail me again.”

“Oh, that isn’t very nice. I shall tell him to leave you alone, he shouldn’t bully his little sister.” Karen sounded quite cross, so I didn’t correct her.

“How am I going to get home?”

“My mother is, like, going to be there; what time does yours get home?”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Ten past four.”

“About five o’clock.”

“If we dash back to our place and you cycle home, you should just make it.”

“What ride a bike in this lot?”

“Yeah, it’s a girl’s bike isn’t it?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So you should be able to ride it in a skirt.”

“You must be joking, I’m not riding home like this!”

“Oh well you’d better start running then, cause you’re not gonna make it otherwise.”

Karen was right. Why is she always right, well except about the lockers? We walked briskly back to the Smith’s house and I recovered my bike. Karen collected my other stuff and we tied it on the rack on the back, in a plastic bag.

“Why couldn’t I change?”

“Because it’s twenty to five, now go.”

It was going to be tight. I had to keep my speed down because the skirt blew up in the front if I went too fast. I tried standing on the pedals, but it still blew up and showed my knickers.

I got back and unlocked the garage door, I was just putting it on the stand when my mother drove into the drive and towards the garage.

“Who are you?” she asked.

I stood frozen to the spot.

“Kyle, is that you?”

I couldn’t move as she approached me.

“My god, it is you! How long has this been going on?” Before I could answer she grabbed my arm and led me into the house. “Sit there,” she pointed at a chair in the kitchen. I did as I was told. She put the kettle on and stood looking at me while it boiled. She shook her head a couple of times. I played with the hem of my skirt, which suddenly seemed to have got much shorter.

She poured two cups of tea and placed one in front of me and took the other herself. “Right, what do you call yourself when dressed like that?”

“Kylie,” I mumbled and looked at the table, my eyes filled with tears.

“Okay Kylie, perhaps you would like to explain why you are wearing a schoolgirl’s outfit when you go to a boy’s school.”

I spent the next hour trying not to tell lies but avoid the truth. However, my mother is an experienced teacher and interrogator. Several times she challenged me and then told me to tell the truth.

“So let me get this straight, Brian threatened that if you didn’t get this letter back for him?” I nodded. “He was going to say your friend was gay?” I nodded and tear ran down my face.

She paused for a moment. “Am I missing something here? If he says your friend is gay, does that mean you already are? Are you gay, Kyle? I mean Kylie.”

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Do you prefer boys or girls?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged again.

“Look I’m not trying to judge you, not on that anyway, if you are gay, it’s okay.”

I nodded but shrugged again, “I don’t know.”

“Okay, sweetie, do you like wearing those clothes?”

“They’re okay,” I shrugged.

“Do you feel like a girl?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to be a girl?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you just look so much like a girl, no wonder no one twigged you. Who did your makeup?”

“Karen.”

“And your hair?”

I nodded again.

“She’s done it really well, it looks really pretty.”

I felt the drops of salty water run down my face. I was trying so hard not to cry openly, but I was on the verge.

“Do you realise if you had been caught, it would have been a police affair and you’d have been charged with breaking and entering plus whatever else they decided to go for, indecency. Then Mrs Smith would have been very upset to know a boy shared a bed with one of her daughters. Kylie, you took such silly risks.”

That did it, the dam broke and I howled. She came and cuddled me and hugged me until I stopped. All I could say was, “I’m sorry, Mummy.”

“Okay, dry your tears,” she passed me a tissue. “You will stay like that until I deal with your brother. Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well his stomach will bring him home soon enough.”

“Why can’t I go and change?”

“Because I want him to realise I know all about it. Besides, I want to see his face when he sees his ‘sister’ again. Can you sort your own makeup?”

“Can’t I just take it all off?”

“No, not just yet, I want to catch him on the back foot.”

I looked inside the backpack and Karen had put the mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss in there.

“Right off you go and repair your makeup, if you need help, just call me.”

I stood looking at the bathroom mirror, my eyes were a bit red and sore but I had managed to redraw the lines around them in reasonable fashion, and apply a couple of coats of mascara. It wasn’t brilliant, but I hadn’t poked myself in the eye or got it up my nose or on my eyebrows.

I walked nervously down the stairs, part of me wanted to see Brian get his just desserts and part of me wanted to simply run away and hide. The latter seemed a better option. Another part of me was simply afraid of what he’d do later.

I entered the kitchen and my mother looked up at me, “That’s better, young lady. Now, I think you can help me get the dinner.”

I’ve helped her loads of times, but it was never as friendly as this, she was somehow different. Then, I suppose I was too. I was busy laying the table when Brian walked in. He froze when he saw me.

“What the hell?”

“That’s a nice way to speak to your sister!” chided my mother.

“What? What sister?”

“I think you know perfectly well what I mean, you might not be as clever as she is, but you are by no means stupid.”

Brian drew a finger across his throat and pointed at me.

“I saw that, Brian, now please stop acting like a fool and sit down, we’re going to have the nice meal that Kylie has helped me prepare, then you are going to tell me exactly what is going on here.”

As she turned her back to me, I poked out my tongue at him.

“Kylie, that is rather childish, please desist immediately.” My face fell and Brian sniggered.

Amazingly we sat and ate as if there was nothing wrong, then I was invited to help clear away the mess while Brian sat and stewed at the table. Once the dishwasher was loaded and the kettle on, we cleared the other things from the table and finally sat down with cups of tea, awfully civilised, not–least while Brian was there.

“So please explain how when I drove in this evening, I found my younger child had just arrived home from school and was dressed and acting like a girl?”

“How do I know; he’s as queer as four pound note anyway, maybe it’s how he gets his kicks.”

“So you don’t happen to have a photo of Kylie, as she prefers to be called in this mode, on your phone?”

“Why?”

“I’m asking the questions Brian, may I see your phone.”

He blushed with some anger and not a little embarrassment as she found the incriminating picture.

“So you knew about this proclivity?”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t gonna tell you was I, unlike her, I don’t tell tales.”

“So why did you photograph her?”

“Dunno, for a laugh.”

“Not to blackmail her in the future?”

“Of course not.”

“Despite two other witnesses corroborating her story of ‘insurance for later on’?”

His face flushed with anger and his knuckles whitened.

“So why do you think she’s all dressed up like a St Trinian’s extra?”

“How do I know?”

“I think you know very well. I think you wanted her to break into someone’s locker to retrieve a letter you foolishly wrote them. Isn’t that the truth?”

“It might be,” he said looking at the table.

“You do realise that your sister could have been charged with breaking and entering plus anything else the police decided to throw at her?”

“No, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And why were you threatening to spread ugly and untrue rumours about her badminton partner, as I believe you did once before.”

He fidgeted in his chair, she was heading for a home run, I think the Yanks call it.

“If I hear anything about you taking any form of revenge upon her or her friends, you will be in so much trouble you will be grounded for life–if I don’t involve the police. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” he muttered.

“I know your father will take a very dim view of this behaviour and as he’s the one who pays your allowance, I’d be very careful about how you speak to him next. Now, your sister actually did a better job than you thought, tell him, Kylie.”

“I couldn’t get the letter, it wasn’t in the locker. I was going to come home at lunch but Mrs Smith drove us back to the school, she thought I was on an exchange day with another school. Anyway, I went up to the library and overheard a conversation between Liz and Megan.”

I had his full attention for the first time since he’d swung me into the wall the day before. “Go on,” he urged me.

“They were setting you up, they’d copied the letter and Liz is going to post it on her website. She was going to sell you the original, but still post the copy.”

“What? The bitch! I’ll kill her.”

“If you do, I’ll have to testify against you and so will your sister, so please don’t make idle threats, it’s so common.”

He banged his palm on the table, “What can I do?”

“They said you were good looking for an arsehole.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and hit the table again. “Damn!”

“If I were you I have a chat with Jimmy Gonnersal, he could probably take her site down.”

“What? Your boyfriend’s brother? I don’t even know him.”

“No but I do, I’m sure he’d help if I explained to him, he can do almost anything with a computer. He hacked into the MOD last year.”

“Would you?”

“Why should she? All you do is bully her.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Brian, your promises are worthless, but if I hear of you bullying her again, you will be very, very sorry, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“You’ll have to like, pay him, but I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Kyle.” He actually got my name right!

“It’s Kylie when she’s dressed like this,” corrected my mother, don’t you just love ’em?

“Okay, Kylie.”

“You,” she pointed at my brother, “up to your room and finish your homework. You’re grounded until I’ve spoken to your father.” Brian got up and went to his room.

“And you, Missy, seem way too comfortable like this, are you sure there is something you’re not telling me?”

I shrugged.

“You’re not transgendered are you? There was an article in The Independent about that last week; drat, the papers have gone now for recycling. Still let’s see if we can find it on the internet.”

She took my hand and we walked into the study to the computer. Something had changed between us and it wasn’t at all bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for express proofing. Any mistakes still here are mine.

Totally Insane 3 -epilogue.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

babies

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 3(epilogue)
by Angharad

My mother found the article in The Independent’s archive on the internet.

“It says, children like you have a hard time in school.”

“Children like me?” I asked astonished.

“Yes, transgendered children.”

“But am I transgendered? “ I shrugged, I don’t think I’d heard the term until today.

“I’ll phone the doctor in the morning, we’ll find out.”

“Do we need to, I mean I don’t feel ill or anything?”

“Look, darling, we need to get this sorted. If you are, then we can begin therapy so you can transition as a girl.”

“Transition?” I squeaked.

“Yes, you know change over officially. I always wanted a daughter, we could have a day out tomorrow and do some shopping.”

“Of course, tomorrow is Saturday. I think I was supposed to be playing badminton.”

“That’s not until the evening.”

How come she could remember things like that when she wanted to, but forget at will as well. “I thought the doctor was closed at the weekends?” I only knew this because Daddy—damn there I go again–is always complaining that he had to work on Saturdays but the docs didn’t.

“So he is, never mind, I’ll call him on Monday. Still that means we could go shopping earlier.”

“Is that wise, Mummy?”

“I love it when you call me Mummy, it’s so girlish.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“Is it wise, shouldn’t we wait until Daddy gets home?”

“Why? What does he know about girls’ clothes?”

I felt like allowing my head to fall forward and bang on the table, but as that would have hurt, I changed my mind. “Do we know if I need any yet?” I tried to appeal to her sense of logic.

“We’ll only get a couple of things, so you can wear them at weekends and evenings, just to get used to them.”

“I think I got used to them today,Mummy.”

“Yes, but that was in an alien environment, at home it will feel different, and I’d like you to feel relaxed in skirts and dresses.”

“Can’t I just wear jeans like all the other girls do?”

“All the other girls? That sounds like you’re seeing yourself as a girl.”

“I erm– “ I blushed, this wasn’t going as well as I’d intended.

“But I suppose we could get you some jeans or leggings.”

I smiled at this, maybe this wasn’t going to be soooooo bad after all. I mean, how could it go wrong? These were to be famous last words, as I found out later.

I was just about to tell my mother I wanted to go to bed when the door bell rang. I froze. Normally she would have told me to answer it, instead she opened her mouth looked at me, shook her head and got up from her chair.

She opened the door and I stood inside the study listening to the conversation.

“Can your boy come and help me, I put the baby in the house while I unloaded the car and I’ve shut the door with my keys inside the house.”

“I erm, don’t know if he’s in, I erm–”

“Please hurry, or I’ll have to call the police.”

She sounded frantic and normally I’d have picked up my kit and gone and opened her door. But normally, I’m not stood in a girl’s school uniform wearing makeup and almost crapping myself.

Mummy–damn there I go again–came to the study, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes, what should I do?”

“That’s up to you, darling, but she’s getting more frantic by the moment.”

“I’ll have to help her then, won’t I?”

“That’s up to you, but if you do your secret will be more public.”

“Yeah, but there’s a baby involved, isn’t there?”

“Yes, there is, Kylie.”

“Please do hurry,” called our neighbour.

I reached down and picked up ‘my’ handbag and walked out of the door, followed closely by my mother.

“Oh!” said the neighbour, “who are you?”

“This is Kylie, she’ll get your door open.”

“Kylie?” she was putting two and two together and about to get four.

“Shall we hurry, Mrs Johnson, your baby’s on her own.”

As we trotted across the close to her house she said, “Kylie, that’s Kyle with an ‘i’, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Mrs Johnson, now do you want me to open the door or are we going to have a discussion on names?”

She shut up and led me to the door. I put down my handbag and pulled out my little tool kit. I’d done this door before, so it wasn’t going to take very long. We could hear the baby crying inside and the hatch of her car was still wide open with bags of shopping inside it.

I took out two of my lock picks and began feeling for the levers in the lock, I got the first and the others soon followed, I pulled down the handle and it clicked open.

She looked at me smiled, said, “Thanks,” and dashed inside to her child. I put my tools back and popped the cloth kit back into my backpack. I then picked up her shopping and carried it into her kitchen. The baby was still crying as I dumped the bags on her kitchen table. Then I went out and got some more. I took those in too, then picked up her car keys, shut the hatch cover down and locked it.

I was taking the keys back to her, into the house when she looked at me, “Look, Sarah, it’s Kylie, isn’t she a clever girl to get Mummy back into the house, when silly Mummy locked herself out?”

The baby smiled at me and gurgled. Normally, I’d have beat a hasty retreat but for some reason I couldn’t, instead I held out my finger to the baby who grabbed it and gurgled some more.

“She likes you; Kylie, here can you hold her a moment while I make up a bottle for her?”

Me? Hold a baby? Erm! Before I could say I was allergic to babies, she thrust her into my arms, which involuntarily reached up to take her. I instinctively cradled her in my left arm and tickled her with my right hand. She gurgled some more and I smiled. Sarah smiled back. I laughed and she gurgled again.

“Would you like to give her, her bottle?”

“I erm, I don’t know how,” I blushed and Sarah picked up on my nervousness and her bottom lip quivered. I spotted this and made a funny face and she giggled. This was such a strange experience, better than playing with a cat or dog.

“Sit down and cradle her as you are, then we put the bib around her like so.” She put a plastic bib around the baby’s neck. “You test the temperature of the bottle against your wrist or face, sprinkle a drop on the back of your hand, if it feels warm not hot, you offer it to the baby. Here, try it.”

I did as she instructed me, and the baby hungrily suckled the bottle. It was an amazing feeling. I felt so nervous, what if I dropped her, or she choked? So much responsibility, yet so satisfying. Wearing these stupid clothes was definitely rotting my brain!

“Right, take the bottle from her and rub her back to help wind her.” I’d seen women doing this with their babies, so I joggled her gently and patted her back.

“You’re a natural at this, Kylie,” she beamed at me, “I know where to come for a baby sitter, when she’s a bit older.”

I blushed.

“Right, that’s enough, more bottle.”

I offered the bottle and once more she hungrily suckled it. It was quite good fun. Then I winded her, this time getting a few burps which after they came up, Sarah, looked bemused by the experience.

“She’s lovely isn’t she,” I said holding on to my living doll.

“She’s so good, she goes four hours between feeds and rarely cries unless she’s hungry or frightened, like just now when you rescued us.” She looked at me holding and burping her baby and added, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“What feeding the baby?” I nodded, “Yes I am.”

“How long have you wanted to be a girl?”

“I erm– don’t know,” I spluttered, blushing furiously.

“For some time by the way you seem to act so naturally as one.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you’re even keeping your knees together when you sit down.”

I blushed, I had no answer to all this.

“Anyway, Kylie, I will call upon you first to baby sit for me, when Sarah’s a little older, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, Mrs Johnson, I’d like that.”

“Better than your dolls?”

“Oh yes!” I said enthusiastically before realising I didn’t have any dolls.

The phone rang and Mrs Johnson rose to answer it. Sarah, gurgled and burped at me and I cooed and talked to her.

“Oh hello, Mrs Mosse, no everything’s fine, Kylie’s feeding my baby. No don’t worry, I’ll send her home soon. Bye.” She returned to the kitchen where Sarah was still amusing me. The she seemed to be straining and grunting, I looked at her and then at her returning mother.

“Don’t look so worried, she’s filling her pants, they always do it when they’ve been fed. Have you ever changed a baby?”

I shook my head.

“Well now might be a good time to learn. Come on bring her with you.”

I followed her into the sitting room where she had a changing mat laid out on the floor.

“If you do it on the floor, they can’t fall off the mat, can they?”

“No, I suppose not.” It seemed eminently sensible to me.

She took the baby and laid her down on the mat and then brought over a whole plastic box of stuff. She showed me how to open the babygro and push it far enough under her to stay dry if the baby peed. She used what she called terry towel nappies, that was some sort of cloth stuff.

The plastic panties were pulled down and the nappy was revealed, it was yellow in places where I presume Sarah had wet. Then when she undid the large safety pin, the smell ! Aw phew, it ronked, worse than the cat’s box.

The nappy had a liner, so she picked up most of the poo in that and wrapped it in a tissue. Then she used a wet wipe to wipe her bum and she got me to redress her with the clean nappy.

Fold it into triangle powder or cream her bum, put a nappy liner on the nappy, put this bit over that and tuck this bit over that pop in the pin, watching not to stick it into the baby. Nah too loose, try again.

At the third attempt, I had got it. It was actually more a question of knowing how tight to do it, I was frightened of hurting Sarah, but they need to be tight enough to stay in place. I pulled the clean plastic panties over the nappy and redid the babygro.

Under Mrs Johnson’s supervision, I picked up the baby and put her in her cot, gave her her dummy, and rocked the cot for a few minutes until she dozed off to sleep.

I looked around and Mrs Johnson had gone, I pretended I hadn’t noticed and kept gently rocking the cot. The vanishing lady returned a few minutes later.

“Thank you so much for getting me back into the house, please accept this.” She handed me twenty pounds.

“I can’t accept that, Mrs Johnson.”

“Please, I insist.” She shoved the banknote into my hand. The she handed me two large plastic bags. “Look, I don’t know how serious you are about being a girl, but my younger sister left a whole pile of stuff here last year, which she told me to give to a charity shop. She’s a bit older than you but you’re about the same size, so please take them, keep what you want and dump the rest or give them to Oxfam.”

Oh poo! Now what do I do? Everyone seems to think I want to be a girl, what am I doing wrong? “That’s very kind of you Mrs Johnson,” I was going to add, ‘But no thanks,’ except my mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Did you enjoy playing Mummies for real?”

To my great embarrassment, I did. “Yes, thank you I did,” I blushed.

“I’m so glad. Look any time you want to be Kylie, just dress up and pop over if I’m here. You can help me with the baby or I’ll show you how do some makeup or hair styles. Okay, it’s not an empty offer, I mean it.”

“I erm,” I blushed furiously, “thank you, you’re so kind.”

“I mean it, girl, and I think you’re so brave. It takes a lot of bottle to do what you’re doing.”

“I’d better go, thanks for the clothes and the money.” I ran home as fast as I could.

Once inside, I knew I’d face a new interrogation, I wasn’t disappointed.

“Lock was more difficult than you thought, was it?”

“No, it was okay.” I fidgeted as I spoke, then took my back pack off.

“So what took so long?”

“I had to help Mrs Johnson with the baby.”

“You had to help her with the baby? She usually manages by herself doesn’t she?”

“I dunno,” I said and blushed.

“So what did you do?”

“I gave her a bottle and helped to change her.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes I did.”

“You really are a girl, aren’t you?”

“Why, men look after babies too!” I protested.

“What’s in the plastic bags?”

“She gave me some clothes her sister left there, she doesn’t want them any more.”

“Well let’s see what’s there then.” She began pulling stuff out of the bags, oohing and aahing every so often. “That’s nice, ooh underwear too, and a nightie, well Kylie, looks like we’ll be okay for tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?” I asked almost in fear and trembling.

“You have some stuff to wear to go into town.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea.

“Here try these on,” she handed me a skirt and top. I struggled out of the school clothes and redressed in the skirt and top. The skirt was a plain red kilt type thing and the top was a long sleeved red paisley affair with a round neck. It fitted rather too well for me to object to wearing it.

Next came a dress and after that another skirt and different tops, finally I tried on the two bras, they were too big, so Oxfam got something. However, Mummy–damn, I’ve done it again!–said I could wear Gemma’s tomorrow and we’d buy her a new one.

I went to bed finally in a nightdress with kittens and teddy-bears all over it, it was perfectly comfortable except for the fact that I’m a boy, or should that be, was a boy.

I awoke in a sweat, I dreamt I was in school and I went to the loo. I was stood at the urinals and when I went to grab ‘Percy’ to point at the porcelain, so to speak, I couldn’t find him!

I shoved my hand inside my trousers and my underpants and felt around, it wasn’t there. I ran into one of the cubicles and dropped my pants and undies and when I looked… That was when I woke up, so I’m not sure what happened, except, I checked and everything was present and correct. Phaw! That was some ‘orrible dream.

I awoke with my mother poking me, “Come on, time to get up.”

“Muuuuuuuuum, it’s seven o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

“Come on, we have lots to do.”

I yawned, “You go an’ do them, an’ I’ll just go back to–”

The clothes were ripped off me, revealing the nightdress which I’d forgotten about. “Come on, young lady, get up.”

“Do we have to?” I yawned again.

“Yes we do, now come along and in the shower, wash and condition your hair, come along, child,” she poked me as I was about to fall asleep sitting up on the bed.

After showering, I came out like I’d seen her, with a towel wrapped around my chest, and a smaller one around my hair, in a turban. I went to my bedroom and she’d laid out the knickers and bra, the red top and the skirt. There was also a pair of white knee high socks and of course Gemma’s shoes.

“I don’t know if I should be using Gemma’s shoes, these are her best ones,” I complained.

“It’s only until we get some of your own, then we can pop them in a bag and take them back with the rest of the uniform. I washed it last night after you went to bed and I ironed it just now.”

My mother seems to be able to do things like that, get up and spring into action: me? I spring back into bed. I dried my body and pulled on the clothes, the panties were different to the ones I’d worn yesterday, so where had they come from, maybe Mrs Johnson’s sister.

I struggled with the bra but got it on, shoved in the plastic foam which gave me some boobs, and pulled on the top and skirt. They felt okay I suppose, the socks were okay, like football ones only no turnover at the top and they were a bit lacy.

I had a quick breakfast of cereal, fruit and a cup of tea, then Mummy–doh!–did my hair. Gel and other stuff, then blow dried with a brush thing. It was even better than when Karen had done it.

“Right, go and do your makeup.”

“Erm, do I have to?”

“Do you want other people recognising you?”

“Can’t I wear a mask like Zorro?”

“Kylie!”

“Okay, okay, I was only joking.” I went off and put on some lip gloss, eyeliner and mascara. I stepped back from the mirror, no one would ever imagine I was a boy under all this stuff. It was heartening, in that it would help protect me, it was worrying at the same time. I’m supposed to be a boy.

I clomped down the stairs and my mother held out a fleece jacket for me.

“Where did that come from?” I asked suspiciously.

“I bought it for you last year but I didn’t think you’d wear it, as it was a bit girly. But it will be fine for today.”

I shrugged and pulled it on, then put on my backpack on top.

“We need to get you one of your own so you can give that back to Karen or Gemma.”

“Yes, Mother,” I decided agreeing with her was safer today.

We drove to town and after parking, went around the shops. It was so boring! Nah, that’s a lie, it was actually funny watching my mother act like a teenager. I’ve been with her when she’s shopped for clothes for herself, it’s painful. But today, she was rushing about and holding things up to me and asking me to look through racks of things. It wasn’t my money we were spending, so why should I worry? My twenty quid was safely stored in my purse in my bag. That was going to buy some new mini screwdrivers and The Manic’s latest album.

We did buy some jeans and a top. The jeans were all embroidered on the one hip and were as tight as tight could be. She told me I’d really need to wear a thong with them to avoid VPL whatever that is.

We bought bras and more panties and the thongs. She showed me what they were and I laughed. “I’m not wearing something with a strap that goes up my bum!”

“They’re actually quite comfortable,” she said putting them in the basket.

At the shoe shop, well, how many pairs of shoes is it worth buying for someone who only exists in the imagination of others. I don’t see myself as a girl, even wearing a skirt and makeup, but my mother obviously does. We bought a pair of flat pumps, which I immediately put on and put Gemma’s shoes in the bag. I had a pair of school shoes — what for? I have boy shoes for school. We also bought a pair of soft boots, which I decided were unlikely to be weather proof, so why wear them? Apparently they are a fashion statement.

We got me some makeup, some more earrings and some smellies. I think Mummy must have spent a couple of hundred for something that doesn’t exist. It struck me as wasteful, but I wondered how I’d feel if I suspected my child was trans–whatever she said it was. Transgendered, that’s the word, what a mouthful!

We had some lunch, I did wonder what my horrible sibling was going to have for his, but it was only midday so he’d still be asleep. I was glad we’d gone back to the car to dump all the bags, I’d lost count of what we’d bought.

Lunch was fab, my favourite, egg an’ chips. We never have them at home, the chips, that is. I do occasionally buy them out or have them in school, but ever since Jamie Oliver did his ‘healthy eating in schools’ campaign, they don’t do them very often there either. I mean at this rate, I’ll never die, because it’s eating fast food that kills you. The good thing about that, is, Brian eats loads of burgers and things, so maybe I will outlive him! Hee hee!

Mum got her nails done and insisted that I get mine done too. How could I say in front of the girl, “But I’m back to a boy for school on Monday!” So I had to go along with it. I’m sure I’ll be able to get them off by then. They do make my fingers feel funny, like my nails are extra thick, which I suppose they are.

As we left I said, “What about school?”

“Do you really want a girl’s school uniform?”

“No Mummy, what about my nails and school?”

“I doubt the teachers will say anything, they don’t stop you wearing makeup do they?”

I grabbed her sleeve, “Mummy, I don’t wear makeup to school, remember I’m a boy.”

“Don’t be silly, Kylie,” we walked on and suddenly she stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “Gosh! You are too, I’d forgotten you act so like a real girl.”

“Well yes, I don’t want to get arrested for using a girl’s changing room.”

“Have you enjoyed it?” she asked putting her arm around me.

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Yes, darling, I have, thank you for indulging your silly old mum.”

“It’s been fun,” I said.

“So are you going to stay Kylie until Monday?”

“I suppose I could.”

“Do you want to invite Gemma and Karen over for tea tomorrow?”

“Gemma might come, but I doubt Karen would.”

“Well why don’t you ask her when we drop her stuff off?”

“Should I buy them both a little present for helping me?”

“Yes, what a good idea. What did you have in mind?”

“We got makeup to replace the stuff Karen gave me, and underwear to replace what Gemma loaned me, how about some earrings?”

“Do they have pierced ears?”

“Yes, who do you think conned me?” I pointed at my own studs.

She laughed and we went off arm in arm to Claire’s to look for some in there.

On the way home we stopped at the Smith’s house. Karen was out but Gemma wasn’t. My mother is an acquaintance of Mrs Smith, so they went off to have a cup of tea in the kitchen and Gemma dragged me upstairs to her room.

“Kylie,” she said and gave me a huge hug, “Is this a fashion statement?” she said pointing at my red skirt and top.

“It’s a long story, and before I tell you, I need to give you back your uniform,” I handed over the bag. “Some replacement bra and panties,” I handed over the new ones, “And some stuff that Karen loaned me.” I gave her that bag too.

She went and got us some drinks and biscuits and I told her all about what happened with Brian and with Mrs Johnson and her baby.

“You like, fed and changed a baby, a real live baby?”

“Yeah, she’s so good.”

“Golly, girl, you’re getting broody!” She fell back on the bed laughing and I sat there speechless and blushing.

“So Brian got off scot free?”

“Dunno, my dad isn’t so easy, he’ll ground him or fine him.”

“What’ll he say about you?”

I blushed again, “I dunno, probably send me off to a loony bin!”

“Well we have spaces in our one, but you’d have to wear the uniform again.”

“If I’d sat in the loo any longer I would have been a basket case.”

“In which case you could make your own in handicrafts.” She roared again and I laughed with her.

“You doin’ anything tomorrow?”

“I don’t date girls,” she sniggered.

“No, Mummy asked if you and Karen would like to come over to tea?”

“Dunno about Karen, I ‘spect she’ll be out, she always is these days.

“Oh I forgot, these are for you.” I handed her the crystal earrings.”

“They’re lovely,” she said, “why are you buying me prezzies?”

“To say thank you for helping me yesterday and maybe helping me discover another side to life.”

“You like being a girl don’t you?”

“It’s like, okay.” I said and we hugged each other.

“So am I gonna see Kylie more often?” she said her eyes sparkling.

“Well you’re coming to tea tomorrow, but after that, I’ll have to see what Daddy says, if he’s okay, I know Mummy is, and Mrs Johnson said I’m welcome to go over there anytime I like and she’ll teach me how to look after the baby or how to do my hair an’ things.”

“You can always come over here too. It’s nice to have a girlfriend I don’t go to school with. When we’re older we can go after boys together.” She clapped her hands together.

“I dunno about that bit,” I blushed, I still didn’t know who I fancied and who I didn’t. I suppose there was no hurry.

“Sounds like you enjoy being a girl, though don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s been fun and no one has beaten me up since.”

“Maybe we won’t go after boys, they sound nasty.”

“Some of them are, but so are some girls, remember Liz and Megan.”

“What’s going to happen there?”

“I dunno, that’s Brian’s problem.”

I looked at the new watch Mummy had bought for me, “Crikey, I have to play badminton tonight. I can’t, I can’t get these nails off.”

“They’re rather nice, my mother doesn’t take me to a nail salon.” She poked her tongue out at me.

“What am I gonna do?”

“They’ll come off with nail varnish remover; it’s just fiddly. Why don’t you phone him and say you can’t make it?”

I opened my new ‘kitten’ backpack and pulled out my phone and dialled Philip.

“Hi, Kylie,” he said to me, I nearly dropped the phone. “Look could you try and look a bit more girly tonight, we’re playing in the mixed doubles…”

It was originally my intention to finish this here, however, popular demand and bribery, meant I have continued it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks to Gabi for editing improvements any errors still present are mine alone.

Totally Insane 4 -postscript.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 4 –postscript
by Angharad

I managed to tear myself away from Gemma, we were having fun, and Mummy and Mrs Smith seemed to getting on fine, too. We went home and I changed into my badminton kit. Gemma had loaned me her old sports bra and I shoved in the foam bits, under the white polo shirt, it looked okay.

What really made the difference was Gemma’s tennis skirt. She doesn’t use it any more, preferring shorts, so she donated it to me for my badminton debut, along with some frilly knickers and lacy short socks; the latter making my shoes look more feminine.

Had we had time to plan a bit more, we could have got a more girlish shirt, but this would do. After all, I’d only be on court for an hour or so, so why spend money on something that probably wouldn’t happen again?

I ate a light meal, and waited for Philip to show up. Mummy opened the door.

“Hi, Mrs Mosse, is Kyle ready?”

“I thought you wanted Kylie to play with you tonight?” I was listening from the lounge and immediately blushed as I saw the double entendre in what she said.

“Eh?” replied Philip.

“Come on in, Philip, I’ll see if she’s ready.”

“Eh?” said my double’s partner, obviously a man of few words.

Mummy handed me my kitten backpack, “I’ve put another fiver in your purse in case you want to get a drink on the way home. Good luck, sweetheart, have a lovely evening.” She kissed me on the cheek, a very rare event these days, but one I quite enjoyed.

“Thanks, Mummy,” I said and hugged her.

“Wow!” said Philip as I appeared, “you’re a fast worker.” Assuming I’d followed his instructions.

“I aim to please,” I said, tongue in cheek, and pretended to curtsey to him.

“Geez, you’ve had your hair cut, too. Blimey, I didn’t expect you to go that far.”

As we walked to his mother’s car, he kept looking at me and shaking his head. His mother has seen me a hundred times before– well maybe a dozen –and she did a definite double take.

“Kyle?” she said, looking at me.

“Kylie,” I replied and smiled.

“Okay, Kylie it is? I presume your mother’s seen you today?” She asked in an almost concerned manner.

“Oh yes, she did my hair for me.”

As we drove, she said, “I hate to sound stupid, but why are you dressed up like a girl?”

“Philip asked me to,” I smiled back.

“Philip, why did you ask Kyle–“

“–Kylie,” I interrupted.

“Okay, Kylie, to look all girlish?”

“Erm, it’s the mixed doubles tonight and I knew we didn’t have a chance in the boys’, but we might have in the mixed.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” she asked, looking at her son.

“Nah, it’s only a bit of fun, we won’t win anyway, but we might get up a couple of games.”

“If you do win the event, I think you’ll have to explain to them, that it was a joke.”

“The only way that’s going to happen, is if no one else turns up,” I said.

“Anyway, she plays like a girl, so I think it’s okay,” he added. Had my racquets not been in the boot, I’d have poked him with one.

Normally we play in school, this was at the badminton club. Thankfully, I was unlikely to know any of them, although Philip was a member and played there regularly.

“What are you going to do about toilets, Kylie?”

“I think using the gents could be a mistake,” I said, “I used the ladies in town earlier without a problem.” I then realised I’d disclosed something they didn’t know. Happily she didn’t pick up on it.

We walked into the club and Philip sorted out the registration and paid our fees. Well he asked me to play, so he can pay for it.

We went and sat in waiting areas around the courts, collecting a cola as we went. “You said you used the ladies loo in town earlier?” he said accusatorially.

“Did I?” I blushed.

“So that means you were already dressed as a girl. Hmm!” He paused. “So what’s going on?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have half an hour before we’re on court, so spill the beans.”

I told him what had happened. His mouth opened widely a few times and he looked stunned.

“You slept with Gemma Smith, geez Kyle, and you didn’t, you know, you didn’t–did you?”

“Certainly not, I’m no lezzie.” I replied, my nose in the air.

“You had it offered on a plate and you didn’t even put your napkin on? What sort of boy are you?”

“I was role playing a girl, remember?”

“Yeah, role play–what in, method acting?”

“What?”

“Aw nuthin’; I saw this thing the other night on Marlon Brando.” He dismissed the topic with a wave of his hand, “But to pass up on Gemma Smith, she’s like super crumpet, and her sister is a goddess. Oh boy, the tits on her!”

“Do you mind, Philip, but I’m finding this conversation a bit insulting. Gemma and Karen are good friends of mine and I don’t like you talking about them like they were sex objects.” I just realised I was a closet feminist.

“What’s up with you, wrong time of the month?” he said sarcastically.

“No, I just think girls should be respected.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Like what?”

“Like why you were still in girl’s clothes this morning, instead of your normal threads?”

“Erm–I think we’re on next.” An official was waving to us and we went over to the court.

“Gonnersal and Miss Mosse, is that right?” he asked.

We answered in the affirmative.

“Five minutes warm up, toss for ends, then play, okay?”

We nodded and I stripped off my fleece, and tied back my hair in a ponytail with a scrunchie we’d bought earlier. Then I took my favourite racquet from its cover and after banging it against my hand to feel the tension in the strings, knocked a few shuttles about with Philip and with our opponents.

We were about evenly matched, the girl at the net was taller, so had a better reach, but I was faster and caught her a few times with little drop shots. Philip kept things from the back court flying over my head, and his smashes were like gunshots.

It was best of three and we had one set each. I was playing out of my skin and I didn’t know why. Maybe just that I was playing the girl, and so didn’t need to take it so seriously, I don’t know. I felt relaxed and was making shots I couldn’t normally hit. Then at twenty nineteen to us on our serve, the girl on the other side wafted one up expecting me to flick it back with another drop shot, she stepped forward in anticipation. Instead I jumped and intercepted on the net and smashed, my first of the night and it went perfectly– behind her and out of reach of her partner.

Philip jumped in the air whooping, then we high-fived, and he hugged and kissed me, before realising his mistake. Then we shook hands with our opponents and went off to wait for the next round.

Philip ran off and came back with some still water, “Too much fizz, fills you up,” he commented. Then sitting down, he added, “Do you realise we just beat the defending junior champions?” He giggled, “Me and Fairy Mosse.”

“What did you call me?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, Kylie.”

“Fairy Mosse?”

“Nah, it’s something I heard in school.”

“From who?”

“Some of the kids told me that’s what they call you–apart from Kylie, you know.”

“I didn’t actually.”

“Oh, sorry about that, you’re not gonna cry are you?”

I managed to sniff back the tears. “So is that all I am to you, an object of fun, something to laugh at?”

He looked at the floor, tracing the pattern of the wood with his racquet. “No, course not, right now, you’re the best girl badminton player here.”

“Yeah, keep me sweet ‘cos you need me to play the next round.”

“Yes, no–I mean, you’re my friend anyway. Look I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I like you, whoever you are, honest.”

“I don’t believe you, I think you’re, just like, using me.” There were tears in my eyes but I was determined not to cry.

“No I‘m not, look how can I prove it to you?”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Kiss me then, like I was your girlfriend.”

“What?” he gulped.

“Do you need me to say it again?” I glared at him.

“No, I heard it the first time.” He leaned forward then withdrew, “Look, this don’t mean I’m gay or anything, okay?”

“How can you be, I’m a girl aren’t I?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” He leant forward again and his lips touched mine and withdrew. Then he did it again and his lips lingered–.

I didn’t do it because I actually wanted him to kiss me, but to make a point. When his lips flittered on mine and were withdrawn, I felt cheated, then when he came back for some more, something inside me flipped over. I was kissing a boy and wanted more. What was happening to me?

“You kiss like a girl,” he said, wiping my lip gloss of his mouth.

“Is that a surprise?”

“Yeah, a nice one. Help me win the next round and I’ll kiss you all night,” he joked.

“Deal,” I said holding out my hand, which he shook rather gingerly.

Half an hour later, a bit puffed and sweaty, I claimed my prize. “You owe me,” I said beaming at him.

“Geez, Kyl-ie, how come you never play that in school? We’re in the semis. Geez! I can’t believe it.”

“You still owe me,” I said smirking.

“Oh yeah, that.” He shrugged and put his arm around me and kissed me forcefully. I don’t know how long it took, because time seemed to stand still and so did my heart. I felt his tongue probe my open lips and move into my mouth and I gave a little groan. It was involuntary.

“If we get this next one, I’ll give you a real snog, but somewhere more private.” He winked at me.

Apart from kisses from relatives, and the cat, I’d never kissed anyone else before–not properly. It was nice and I was confused. Here I was, a boy kissing another boy and loving every moment of it; he didn’t seem to be suffering exactly. So what was going on?

I didn’t have time to think as we were back on court. My emotional state had caught up with me and we got decimated in the first set. Everything I did, went wrong. We changed ends and Philip grabbed me and kissed me forcefully but briefly, “Come on if you want more.”

Explain to me how his gesture suddenly transformed me from pondering plodder to flying fighter, but it did. My game went up a gear and my change caught our opponents off guard, we took the second set easily and I won four points in a row.

We swapped back to the first end and he kissed me again. It was close and we fought like cat and dog, winning twenty five twenty three. I was knackered and needing a sit down. Philip grabbed me in a huge hug and kissed me like he was in love with me.

“Just one more Kylie, keep going for one more and I’ll even sleep with you.”

“I don’t think my mother would approve, and what your mother would think, God knows!”

I flopped in my seat and jumped up, I had cramp in my calf. I strutted around in agony.

“What’s up?”

“Cramp,” I squealed, God it hurt.

“Lie down,” he instructed and he massaged my calf, easing out the knotted muscles. He pushed my foot up and down stretching and contracting the muscles. It hurt but it was easing the overall pain.

One of the officials came over and gave me a tablet, “Chew it, it sometimes helps, it’s a bit salty but it would be a shame if you missed out on the final.”

We thanked him and I ate the tablet, it was salty and fruity at the same time, weird or what? I drank some more water and limped off to the loo. I looked at my sweaty face and sticky hair in my reflection.

I went into a cubicle and peed, not very much, I think most of it had sweated out of me. I wiped my face with a wet wipe I had in my bag–my mother was so thoughtful–then I touched up my lip gloss. I felt a bit better.

My leg was still sore as I walked back to the courts, Philip smiled at me and held out his hand as I sat down.

“You okay?”

“Dunno, not really, but I’ll give it a go.” My leg was still very sore and stiff.

“Attagirl,” he said and kissed me on the cheek.

I pouted at him.

“Uh–uhh,” he said, “not until you earn it.”

“But have a bad leg,” I pouted some more.

He bent over and kissed it, “There does that feel better?”

All I could do was giggle by way of reply, well it tickled.

It would be lovely to say, we won the cup and he slept with me, kissing me until my lips were too sore to beg for mercy, but we didn’t. We were as good as the others, but in the final set my leg cramped up and I couldn’t play on. I couldn’t actually stand until someone, a doctor I think, came and massaged it very hard. God it hurt and I was streaming with tears before he finished, but we had to concede.

I got a standing ovation as I limped off the court, my arm around Philip’s shoulder and his around my waist. I’d given my all and just wanted to get home to bed, maybe via a hot bath that might help my leg.

He got me to the seats and then kissed me more passionately than before, when he stopped, the whole place applauded and I blushed like fire engine.

I was invited to join their club, and the girl from our first round came and asked me if I was interested in partnering her for the girl’s doubles. I said I’d think about it. She left me her mobile number.

Our winning opponents came over to check I was okay and told us it seemed unfair that they’d won in such a manner, which was kind of them. Several others came and spoke to me when I was sitting and resting my leg; Philip still rubbing it on his lap. It felt very strange, normally I was something of a pariah in a sports hall, tonight, I was nearly the ‘Queen of the May.’

Just as well, as the winners were photographed and it would get in the local press. Philip was disappointed, I wasn’t, I’d already achieved more than I’d have dreamt of doing, so I was quite happy.

As we walked back out to the car park, he asked, “Is Kylie going to come around again?”

“I don’t know, why?” I said coyly.

“I thought she might like, want to collect her winnings sometime.”

“What winnings are those?” I flirted back, batting my eyelids.

He kissed me again and his tongue tickled my teeth and inside my lips as it danced between our mouths. I just melted in his arms with my eyes closed, gasping when he broke the spell.

“Those winnings,” he said and laughed.

I touched up my lip gloss and his eyes came out on stalks. “What’s the problem?” I asked.

“You do that like a girl!”

“Duh!”

“Oh yeah, erm–oh there’s Mum.”

“So how did you do?” she asked not noticing my limping walk.

“Yeah okay, we had to retire in the final,” Philip replied.

“What! You got to the final?” She shook her head, “Do they know you’re two boys.”

“We’re not,” he retorted, “and Kylie hurt her leg, tore some muscles we think.”

“Oh, how’s the leg, Kyle?” she said to me.

“No, Mum, it’s Kylie, okay!”

“I stand corrected,” she said, “how is the leg, Kyl-ie? she emphasised the second syllable.

“I’ll live, but I won’t be able to do ballet for a bit.”

Philip who was turned around in his seat as I spoke, winked and smirked, but his mother scowled, “Yes, very funny.”

They dropped me off and Philip helped me to the door. “I can’t kiss you in front of my mum, but I’d really like to see you again. Is that alright?”

“If seeing the other me in school isn’t like, gonna be too confusing?”

“I’ll cope, you’re the best kisser I’ve met.”

“Thanks–I think.”

My mother opened the door and on my suggestion he helped me in, I pecked him on the cheek and off he went.

“What happened to you?” asked my mother.

“I got a bad attack of cramp and possibly tore some muscle.”

“How did the game go?”

“We got knocked out in the final,” I said after sitting down.

“The final?”

“Yeah, we had to retire ‘cos I hurt my leg.”

“So you could have won it?”

“We would have won it, except for my stupid leg. Still, I didn’t want my name in the paper.”

“It might not have been a wise move. How about I run you a hot bath and then you come down and have a snack before bed?”

I threw my arms around her and approved by pecking her on the cheek.

“You’re certainly more affectionate as a girl.”

“Don’t you like it?” I pouted.

“Me? I love it.” She squeezed me and then went up to run the bath.

I slept better after taking a pain killer and the next morning, my leg was a little stiff but otherwise not too bad, I could walk.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do all day, and after breakfast and sorting out what I was going to wear, a skirt and top with my flat shoes, and doing my hair and makeup, I sat down with a book.

“You could put your badminton stuff in the machine, and the other whites in the hamper,” called my mother. It seemed fair enough.

I hobbled up and down the stairs with the hamper and out to the utility room. I sorted the washing, my soiled kit, including the frilly knickers which looked a bit like a chicken’s bum and the other whites. Then I added the detergent, and fabric conditioner and set it for a wash cycle.

I turned around and became aware of my mother watching me. “You know, I have never seen Brian do the washing and until now, you’ve only helped a few times. Is this a sign of things to come?”

“Maybe,” I said shrugging my shoulders, “anything else you want me to do?”

“How about running the vacuum around downstairs?”

“Okay, what about moving the furniture?”

“I did all that last week, just the easy stuff unless you can see it needs it.”

“Okay, Mummy.”

“Then you can help me with the dinner, if you like?”

“Okay,” I smiled at her. Like any twelve year old I wasn’t that into chores, but I knew she struggled at times to do everything and keep her job going. She had some marking to do that afternoon, so helping her seemed useful. Brian was still in bed and would be until lunch. I would have to endure his snipes when he saw me. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I’d cope, I had to.

I did the lounge and dining room, the study; where I could see the pile of books for marking and the dining room, together with the hall. I reported for duty in the kitchen.

“Right, missy…” she showed me how to prepare the chicken for roasting and we did the vegetables, par boiling the spuds before putting them in the oven. Then we sat down with a cuppa and a chocolate biscuit.

Next she supervised me making a sponge for tea, for my guests. “Guests?” I asked, who else is there?

“Yes, Mrs Smith is coming with Gemma, so get that in the oven and then we’ll do some scones.”

At the finish I had flour on my face and down my jumper. My mother laughed at me and suggested she buy me an apron. When I looked in the mirror, I did look a sight, so I went and cleaned up in the cloakroom.

While I was in there, the phone rang. My mother answered it. I didn’t hear what she said because she took it in the kitchen, so it was probably for her anyway. I washed my hands and went out to the kitchen to check my sponges.

I’d eaten plenty of them, my mum made super ones, but I’d never really helped before, let alone done them myself. She was still talking on the phone, and when I pointed at the cooker, she nodded. I pulled down the door and she shook her head, showing me five fingers. I went off and redid my lip gloss, then came back and she’d finished with the phone. We removed the sponge halves and they looked really good although I nearly dropped one turning it out. They have these little lever things you run around to unstick the bottom before you tip them out on the cooling tray.

“Right after lunch, we’ll fill them with jam and cream and pop it in the fridge in a container. Brian can wash up, as he’s done nothing all day.”

“Oh good, “ I said feeling glad to avoid one chore.

“Yes, you have to pop around the corner and look after some kids, so their mother can take her husband to the station. It should only be an hour or so about three.”

“What?” I gasped.

“The phone call was Mrs Johnson, who was asking if you’d do it for her friend. She recommended you apparently, and you’ll get a fiver an hour.”

“Mrs Johnson? Does her friend know about me?”

“Only that you’re a nice girl named Kylie.”

“Is that okay? I mean her not knowing?”

“She has two boys who are four and six, all you have to do is stop them coming to harm for an hour.”

“Oh, what shall I do with them?”

“Why don’t you wait until you get there, but try and be a little more inventive than putting on a DVD and painting your toenails while they watch it. Play some games or read to them. Just keep it calm, there’s less chance of them breaking their necks if you play tiddlywinks than if you teach them how to rugby tackle each other.”

“Ugh, somebody would have to show me first!” The thought of wrestling in the mud over a ball did not appeal, although wrestling with Philip had its attractions, but not in the mud.

I helped Mummy dish up the dinner, and made the gravy myself for the first time, it went all lumpy and I nearly burst into tears, until mummy showed me what to do and saved the day.

I laid the table in the kitchen and she sent me up to call Brian. His friendly reply, which I suspect was biologically impossible unless double jointed in some strange places! I beat a retreat just shouting behind the open door.

Some ten minutes later he dragged himself downstairs, wearing jeans and old tee shirt and bare footed. His hair was unkempt and he smelt.

“Geez, you big fairy, you still prancing round in skirts?”

“Brian, I expect you to have a little more respect for your sister, she’s worked hard all morning making your dinner and helping me.”

”Ooh, Mummy’s little helper, how thweet” he said in a silly voice, then under his breath so I could hear it, “Bloody little pervert.”

“I’m not, but you are, reading those dirty magazines,” I retorted close to tears.

“Ha, at least I’m a bloody boy, not some mincing poof!”

“That will do!” Mother stormed in to the room, “Gender Identity Disorder is not the same as homosexuality, but even if it was, it’s not something to be mocked or ridiculed by someone who is hardly a role model, except of nastiness and stupidity. Now, apologise to your sister.”

“No way.”

“Brian, I am insisting that you apologise to your sister.”

“He’s not my sister, is he!”

“She is your sister and you will apologise now, or so help me you’ll live to regret it when your father comes home.”

“I’m sorry, Nancy boy,” he sniped at me.

“When your father comes home, I expect him to deal with you quite harshly.”

“What about, Delia Smith, here? He’s hardly gonna like that, is he?”

“He knows about Kylie, I spoke with him last night when he phoned. Seeing as you are responsible for triggering this situation with your stupid billet doux, I don’t think your father is going to be impressed with your vulgarity now. So either apologise properly to Kylie, or go back to your room, now.”

He looked at the food on the table, then at me, with tears running down my cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kylie, dry your eyes, you big girl.”
I did with the back of my hand and got sent to my room to tidy it up! But Mummy made the incredible sulk wait until I got back, before he could eat. Hee hee.

We finished the cake, making the whipped cream and jam filling, then dusting it over the top with some icing sugar, ‘drenching’ I think Mummy said they call it, all the while; Brian was grumbling over the dishes in the sink.

“Right, Kylie, put some smellies on and take your jacket, it’s time to go to Mrs Eden’s house.”

“Ha, that’s right, skip off while I do all the work, bloody fairy!” Brian hissed at me.

“Brian, you don’t seem to learn do you?” Mummy stood just out of view but within earshot. “If your father doesn’t take you in hand soon, then I fear for you, I really do. You are a really obnoxious and spiteful child pretending to be a young man. For all her difficulties, Kylie is twice as nice as you’ve ever been and she’s done her share of the chores which are more than yours anyway. I despair for you, I really do. You used to be such a nice little boy, what happened?”

“Did he Mummy, I thought he was always a smelly toad.”

“No he was once a nice child, then he learned to talk!” she laughed at her own joke. “Go on you’ll be late.”

“Where’s she going?” I heard him ask.

“Baby sitting, why?”

I didn’t hear the reply.

I cycled around to the Eden’s house, rather a nice one about half a mile away. My leg seemed okay now. I rang the bell and my tummy flipped.

“You must be Kylie,” said a woman in her early thirties, “do come in. Emma Johnson spoke highly of you, you helped her with baby Sarah.”

“Sarah, is a lovely baby, she was no trouble at all.” I omitted that Mrs Johnson was there all the time.

“Well, I’d better introduce you to my little animals.” She led me into their family room, which was a room with a conservatory added to it. They were rolling on the floor fighting. My heart nearly stopped. “You see my choice of words was quite deliberate?”

I nodded.

“Right you pair of scallywags, this is Kylie, who is going to look after you while I run Daddy to the station. I need to get a little shopping as well, but I should be back in an hour and a half.”

The boys ignored her. She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of helplessness. She couldn’t even get their attention.

“Have you thought about throwing cold water over them? It works for dogs.” I suggested jokingly.

“I’ve been very tempted,” she laughed.

“Okay, I’ll get their attention.” Her eyes widened in disbelief.

I put down my bag and shoved my index finger from each hand in my mouth and whistled, very loudly. It was about the only useful thing Brian had ever taught me.

The children stopped squabbling instantly and their mother put her hands over her ears.

“Right you two, I’m Kylie, who are you?”

“I’m Richard,” said the older child, “an’ he’s Davy.”

“Okay, I’m in charge of you two while your mummy runs your daddy to the station, now you can behave or I’ll chain you up and make you run behind my bike for the whole time, which would you prefer?”

“Ugh! You wouldn’t chain us to your bike, would you?”

“Wanna bet?” I said, maintaining eye-contact.

“I don’t wanna be chained up,” squealed Davy and ran to his mother.

“Well you’d better behave then. I saw the chain on her bike, so it’s quite real.” She winked at me but kept a straight face.

A few minutes later her husband appeared, “What was that noise?”

“That was Kylie. Kylie, my husband, Toby Eden.”

“My goodness you stopped them fighting for five minutes,” he said as he shook my hand. “Good luck. We ready, darling?”

She nodded.

“Right, you two, behave for Kylie! Are we paying her danger money?” he joked to his wife as they left.

“Okay, you two terrors,” I said and they giggled. There were toys all over the floor. “How about we have a competition?”

“Like what?” said Richard, surly but curious.

“Like let’s see which of you two can put away the most toys the quickest?”

“What’s the prize?”

I pulled out a tube of fruit pastilles, “The winner gets two sweets, the runner up gets one.”

“Huh, I’ll win that,” he said with a sneer.

“No throwing stuff, you have to walk up and put the things in the box. Ready, steady–wait for it–go.”

For the next five minutes I watched two children in a frenzied tidy up operation, which was going to cost me a few sweeties. I felt quite chuffed with myself.

They picked up everything and put it reasonably tidily in the box and the cupboard. I declared it a draw and gave then two sweets each. There were mutters of protest but when I pointed out they were both winners, they shut up and ate their sweets.

“How about we sit down and read?”

“Nah, reading’s for girls,” said Richard.

“That’s okay, I’m a girl.”

“Yeah but we’re not,” he continued defiantly.

“So that’s your hard luck, isn’t it. Besides, I bet you can’t read, if only girls can read.”

“Yes I can.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“But I can,” he protested.

“Okay, prove it.”

“Erm, alright. What do I get if I prove it., another sweet?”

“No, just the satisfaction of proving to me, a dumb girl, that you a dumb boy may not be as dumb as I think you are.”

He pondered on that for a minute, “Okay.”

“So choose your book.” He went off to get one.

Davy grumbled, “I can only read a bit.”

“Okay, Davy, let’s find one you can read a bit, then you can impress me with your cleverness, too.” He rushed off to find his book too.

This was harder work than feeding baby Sarah. In fact, it was harder than doing the washing, which I hoped my mother had taken out of the machine, because I forgot. I nearly rang, but the chances are pig-face would answer it.

Richard came flying in and nearly crashed into the table. Moments later Davy followed, they each had their books.

For the next half an hour I listened as they struggled to read, I encouraged them as best I could, congratulated them both on their cleverness and gave them each a sweet.

As their proper reward, I sent them off to get a story I could read to them, they were back with some book about pirates.

I decided as I read, my pirate was going to be a bit more ferocious than Jonny Depp was in Pirates of the Caribbean.

So I read with a variety of voices, including a gruff voice that I suspected was going to damage my throat for days. However, it worked, they squealed each time the nasty pirate appeared, but they sat enthralled. So much so, that we didn’t hear their mother appear. She stood in the doorway with two bags of shopping.

“My goodness, you can sit quietly!”

“Kylie’s been reading to us, it’s brill, Mummy.”

“So I see.”

“An’ we read to her first,” said Davy.”

“Well, Miss Mosse, I think we may need your services again someday soon.”

“Yeah, Mummy, can Kylie come and read to us again?”

“Yes, Richard, one day.”

“Hooray!” he shouted and danced about.

Mrs Eden handed me fifteen pounds, “I can’t believe you had them sitting quietly, and all their toys are tidied, what are you, a practicing witch?”

“No. Just lucky, I guess.”

I went home and after putting my bike away, went in and washed my hands. Brian called down the stairs, “Oh your boyfriend phoned, faggot. I told him you’d gone off with some other queer. Ha ha.”

“One of these days,” I muttered under my breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for helping me make this readable, any mistakes left are mine.

Totally Insane 5 - Afterword.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 5–Afterword
by Angharad

I sincerely wished I was a witch, I’d have turned my brother into the toad he really is!

“Did you hear me, fairy?”

“I heard you, pigface.”

“Watch it, you faggot, or else!”

“Or else what?” The voice of my mother intervened, “Well, Brian, or else what?”

“Nothing!” he said sulkily.

“Yes, just remember that: nothing. If I hear anything–just the slightest squeak out of you about Kylie, I shall take you to the vet and have him do the same to you as he did to the kitten. Understand?”

I gasped and nearly wet myself, sniggering as quietly as I could. The kitten had been ‘doctored’ and grew up to be quite a docile tom. I wonder if it would work with Brian, I’d help towards the cost. Hee hee!

“You, missy,” my mother said sternly to me, “forgot to take the washing out of the machine. It won’t dry in there, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Mummy, I won’t forget again.”

“Okay, I think Philip rang, are you going to call him back?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Don’t be all day, Gemma and her mum will be here soon.”

“Okay, Mummy.” I dialled Philip’s number and hoped he answered it.

My luck wasn’t in, his mother answered. “Hello, Kyle, I’ll call him, hold on.”

He arrived a few moments, later. “Hi, Kyle or is it still Kylie?”

“Kylie,” I said shyly and felt myself blush.

“Is she like, gonna be around tomorrow?”

“You mean, am I like, going to be around tomorrow?

“Yeah, that’s like, what I said.”

Rather than argue over what he did or didn’t say, I thought I’d change tack a little. “Like, why are you asking?”

“Like, I might wanna like, see you.”

“It might be okay, after school.”

There was a pause, then he said, “You’re like, gonna go to school like that?”

“No, but I can change when I get home, I ‘spect.”

“What about homework?”

“I’ll have to do that of course, but it doesn’t usually take me all night. Maybe we could do it together?”

“We don’t get all the same subjects, do we?”

“No but, we do like, share some lessons, don’t we?”

“I’ll have to ask my mum,” Philip complained.

“Yeah, so will I, but she seems pretty kewl with it.”

“Okay, talk tomorrow in school.”

“Yeah okay, an’ Philip–”

“Yeah, what?”

“I enjoyed our victory celebrations,” I blushed as I thought of him kissing me.

“What? Oh yeah, yeah it was like good, maybe we can celebrate some more after homework.”

“I’d like that.” I smirked as I put the phone down.

I was still smiling to myself when I went to help my mother make sandwiches, salmon and cucumber, my favourites.

“Oh, Kylie, I’m taking the morning off school tomorrow and so are you.”

“Why, Mummy?” this was possibly good news but could also be less good news!

“I’m taking you to see the doctor and see where we need to go next.”

“Do we need to, I’m not ill or anything?”

“Yes we do, firstly to see if he thinks you’re transgendered or not–”

My heart rose and fell. Yesterday I didn’t think I was, until last night and again today, then I knew I was.

“Do you like, think I am, Mummy?”

“I suspect you might be, but we need to get expert advice before you commit yourself to changing your gender more permanently.”

Wow, permanently! Did I want to do something that lasted forever? I mean I wasn’t even sure I wanted to eat chocolate ice cream forever, this was serious stuff. “What are we going to do about my hair and my nails?”

“You can wash your hair tomorrow and I’ll help you set it, you can keep your nails for the doctor to see how pretty you are.”

“What? You like, want me to like, go to the doctor’s like this?”

“Yes, I should like that very much, and it will give him a chance to see you for himself.”

“I like, dunno, if that’s like, a good idea.”

“What is there to be afraid of, we’ve been out shopping, you played badminton, and you went babysitting, not to mention rescuing Mrs Johnson and baby Sarah. You told her you wanted to be a girl.”

I blushed, this was moving rather too quickly for me. I loved being Kylie, and I didn’t want to change back into being a boy just yet. However, doing it all the time, I wasn’t so sure. What would the others think? Why are all nice things nasty in the end?

Gemma and her mother arrived whilst I was still rapt in my own thoughts and I am sure that I actually jumped off the ground when the doorbell rang. I timidly opened the door and peeped around it. “Oh hi, Mrs Smith, Gem, do come in.”

I stepped aside on quaking knees. “Hi, Kylie, these are for you,” said Gemma handing me a bunch of flowers, picked from her garden.

“For me, ooh, how lovely!” I squealed. I’d never had flowers given to me before.

Mrs Smith gave a similar bunch to my mother as they embraced and air kissed. I gave Gemma a hug, and we air kissed too. It was social contact with a nice person, but I think I preferred kissing Philip.

“If you want to go and chat with Gemma, be back here in half an hour for tea.”

“Yes, Mummy. C’mon Gem, I’ll pop these in water and we can go up to my room.” I led her into the kitchen and grabbed a vase which I filled three quarters full of water, then chopped off the end of the flower stalks and put them gently into the vase. I had no idea of what I was doing, but they looked okay to me.

“That looks really nice, Kylie.”

“It does? I wouldn’t know, no one has ever given me flowers before.”

“Awww, well they have now, and I think you’re going to be such a fox, you’ll never have to buy them yourself ever again.” Gemma smiled, I knew she was exaggerating to boost my self esteem, but it was nicer than Brian and his put downs.

We carried them upstairs to my room and I put them on my chest of drawers along with my ancient teddy bear and dinosaur skeleton model.

“Oh,” said Gemma, “I thought this would look more boyish, or did I? It wouldn’t have surprised me if it was a bit more girly, but never mind. Are you going to get a dressing table?”

“I erm, dunno, do I need one?”

“You gotta have somewhere to do yer makeup, girl.”

“I’ve got the mirror on the wardrobe, or I can use the bathroom, like I did yesterday.”

“Yeah, but what happens if someone else wants to use the bathroom?”

“Erm, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“But it will, girl, it will –you take it from me. Get your mother to organise one for you; you won’t regret it. How did the badminton go?”

“We lost in the final.”

“Wow, you did really well then.”

“We’d have won it except I got cramp and had to retire.”

“What?”

“We were better than the other pair, but I got bloody cramp.”

“Wow, so you were runners up?”

“Yep, but we shoulda won it.”

“But, Kylie, wouldn’t it have got in the paper if you had?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but we still shoulda won.”

“In my chicken bum knickers?”

“Yep.” We both giggled helplessly for several minutes.

“So what did Philip think?”

“Of me in your chicken bum knickers?”

“No, you loony,” she giggled, “of being runners-up?”

“He kissed me.”

“HE WHAT?” She looked shocked for a moment, then sniggered.

“He kissed me,” I blushed and smiled embarrassedly.

“And you enjoyed it, too, didn’t you?”

I nodded and smirked while Gemma giggled.

“Girls, it’s tea time,” called my mother and so we washed our hands and went downstairs.

I helped my mother put everything out on the table and she made the tea, while I finished loading the table with cakes and scones and sandwiches.

“Gosh this looks good,” said Mrs Smith, “is there anything we can do to help?”

“That’s okay, Kylie and I have everything under control, or as much as we ever shall.” We all laughed politely at this.

Small talk ensued in between the sound of crocks, cutlery and eating noises, nothing profoundly serious or stupendously funny was said and we were all well behaved– including the adults!

“What about Brian, isn’t he eating?” Gemma asked.

“He can have his pick of the leftovers afterwards, he’s grounded for being beastly to his sister,” my mother answered the question. I suspect that he was left out for reasons of his past behaviour and his potential to wreck my credibility with Mrs Smith.

Gemma stayed for about another hour and then they went home. Mummy and I cleared up and made another pot of tea and Brian was called down to help himself to the leftovers. He made short work of them.

That night, I slept in the nightdress again and began to enjoy its feel. I wondered that, even if I wasn’t really transwhatevered, I might keep some of the clothes, including this nightie–If they let me.

I dreamt I was in with the doctor and he kept telling me I was a boy, so why was I acting so stupidly? I woke up in a lather over that one, and lay there heart pounding because it could be prophetic of what was going to happen.

Mummy woke me later that morning, “Come on, Kylie, time to get up. My goodness, look at your hair, you need to wash it; come along, in the shower please.”

It was Monday morning and barely seven. Normally, I’d be still fast asleep, falling out of bed, into the shower and then down, quick breakfast and out to school. Now I was shampooing my hair and had instructions to use conditioner. It did make combing it easier afterwards and it shone like it was polished.

I was smelling all flowery and had to wear the red skirt and top again along with the red shoes. I did my own makeup, trying to psych myself up into making the best of a bad job. I remembered hearing the story in history, that when Charles I, was executed, he wore two shirts because it was a cool morning and he didn’t want the crowd to think he was shivering from fear.

I didn’t want my mother to think I was incapacitated by fear, even if it was probably the case. I smudged my mascara and had to do it all again! Finally, I was ready and ate my breakfast. Well I chased it around the cereal bowl, then had to rush to the toilet. Carry on at this rate, I’d need to see the doctor to stop my ‘squits’!

While I was in the loo, Mummy phoned and made an appointment with the doctor for ten– who the other nine were, I didn’t know! Damn, it was nearly nine already. I dithered and went to the loo again, and again.

Then we were at the health centre and waiting. The room was full of all ages, old people grumbling and rubbing their knees, younger ones coughing and spluttering over everyone else, children who were running amok or fidgeting driving their mothers crazy, and us. I sat trying not to think about how surreal this whole thing felt. It was crazy. I dress up to do a favour for my brother and now look at me. I was even thinking about what to wear when Philip came around, if Mummy says it’s okay, she will if I ask her right.

“Mrs Mosse, room four,” boomed the receptionist.

“Come on, girl, that’s us.”

I gulped and was close to tears, she held out her hand, and I clutched it like a drowning man and the proverbial straw. She squeezed my hand, and the next moment she was knocking and entering a small room and I was pulled along behind her.

“Hello, Mrs Mosse. Oh, who’s this?”

“This is Kylie.”

“Hello, Kylie,” offered the doctor.

I nodded.

He looked at his computer, “I don’t have a Kylie on my list do I?”

“Not as such.”

He looked at her, then at me, then at her.

“This is Kyle,” she said after taking a deep breath. The doctor looked at her, then at me, his eyes widening. “I came home from work on Friday, to find my ‘daughter’ putting her bike away in the garage. There was a reason which I won’t go into for the impersonation, which involved her elder brother. In order to confront him, I made Kyle remain as Kylie to see what he did. She seemed so easy in the role that I pushed a bit harder and before we knew it she spent the whole weekend as a girl. She seemed to be so at ease that I thought we needed to speak to you and see where we go next, if anywhere.”

“Right!” he said, then paused as if he was making it up as he went along. “Is this true, Kylie, do you enjoy being a girl?”

I shrugged, “I suppose so,” I shrugged again, “are you going to lock me up?”

“Lock you up? What for?”

“In a loony bin,” I said and sniffed back a tear. My mother squeezed my hand.

“Certainly not. You sure do look the part, but I’m no expert in these things, so I’m going to have to refer you to someone who is. Is that okay with you both?”

“Yes, we thought you might have to, didn’t we, girl?” said my mother and I nodded my agreement.

“Do you like being called a girl?” asked the doctor.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“Alright, girl, I’m going to ask for an urgent appointment, but it will possibly take a few weeks. I hope that’s okay?”

“What about a private one?” asked my mother.

“If that’s what you want, I could probably get you one for the end of the week. The doctor I’m thinking of, is very good with these sorts of issues, but she won’t come cheap.”

“That’s okay,” said my mother.

I just felt numb.

“You make quite a pretty girl, Kylie.”

“Thank you, doctor.” I managed to say while trying to stop myself shaking.

“What about school?” he asked.

“I’m keeping her off today.”

“I think with this all surfacing so quickly, I’m going to suggest a week off, just to leave off one bit of stress. I’m also going to give you some pills if the anxiety gets too bad, okay. Don’t take them unless you have to. Are you sleeping okay?”

“I had some bad dreams.” I confessed.

“Like what? Can you remember them?” asked the doctor.

“Like coming here and you being cross with me for wanting to be a girl, telling me I was disgusting or mad.”

He reached out and held my other hand. “Kylie, I’m here to help you not pass judgement. You are neither disgusting nor mad, you’re actually rather cute, if that doesn’t make me sound too much of an old fart.”

I smiled at him.

“No make that, rather pretty, when you smile. I hope I can help you decide what you want to do and find a way of doing it. I don’t honestly know what’s involved, because it is a relatively rare situation, especially in childhood. However, if you were going to become a girl permanently, we need to move fast to stop you developing masculine traits. I think, we should be able to do that without causing you to have to chose just yet, sort of delay puberty, but we can’t do it indefinitely, so at some point you will have to decide. The lady, to whom I am referring you, should be able to help you decide.”

“Is she a psychiatrist?” I asked.

“Yes, a paediatric one, why?”

“I thought they only saw crazy people.”

“Good gracious no, they see people with mental health issues, most of whom are as sane as you and me. Well sane as you, I’ve been crazy for years.” He pulled a face and I laughed. “Being unsure of your gender, is a mental health issue, because gender is a psychological thing, it’s not just what happens between your legs or in your chromosomes.”

“Thank you, Dr Brown.” I felt at least he was on my side and wasn’t making me choose anything yet.

“Can I ask you something, Kylie.”

“Yes of course.”

“Have you got to the stage of having crushes on other boys or girls yet?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, although I did.

“Do you fancy boys or girls in general or specifically? Does anyone turn you on?”

“I don’t know, not yet anyway.”

“She spent the night with her girl friend, Gemma, didn’t you sweetheart?” Offered my mother.

“Oh, did anything happen?” asked the doctor.

“No, of course not, I’m not lesbi–!” I blushed.

“So you see getting rather friendly with a girl as being lesbian?” asked Dr Brown.

I felt tears in my eyes now overflowing down my cheeks. I shook my head, “I don’t know.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not judging you, I’m trying to understand how you feel, that’s all. Have you kissed a boy yet?”

I nodded and my mother’s eyes widened.

“It’s okay, if that’s what you feel inclined to do, it’s okay as long as he wants to kiss you back. I take it he did?”

I nodded my response.

He squeezed my hand again. “I’m no expert in these things, but it could well be that you might be happier as a girl. Is that what you think, too?”

I shrugged my shoulders.

“Kylie, Dr Brown asked you a question, please give him an answer.”

“Sometimes,” I said and the tears started again.

“Okay, Kylie, I shall expedite this appointment as quickly as I can so we can help you resolve this issue.

“Am I just a fairy, like my brother says?” I said blushing through my tears.

“Turn around,” he said to me.

I let go his hand and that of my mother, and did as he asked. I felt him touch my back.

“No, you’re definitely not a fairy, leastways, there aren’t any wings there that I can feel. Of course you may be a fairy princess and not actually need them, or maybe, being a troll, your brother can see things this mere mortal can’t. But I wouldn’t worry about it, either way.”

Anyone who saw Brian as a troll, was okay with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diolch yn fawr to Gabi for express editing and to Trish for the term 'chicken bum knickers'.

Any errors, etcetera are entirely my responsibility - Angharad.

Totally Insane 6 — Sequel

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Crossdressing

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Permission granted to post by author

Totally Insane 6–Sequel
by Angharad

We found our way back to the car, after I had visited the loo once again, my little bottom was quite sore. Dr Brown had given me some loperamide to stop the problem, or more correctly, I should say, he’d given me a prescription for some of the pills which my mother went to get while I sat and trembled in the car.

It was nearly eleven o’clock as Mummy returned to the car. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“Glad that’s over,” I replied quietly.

“I’ve got all the pills, do you want to take some?”

“Not without a drink,” I replied; I hated taking pills, but I didn’t think she’d mash them up in jam like she did when I was younger.

“There’s a cafeteria in Morrison’s, let’s pop in there and get a drink and maybe a cake.”

“Can’t we just go home?”

“We could, but I need one or two things anyway, I just thought it would be the quickest way for you to take your pills. There’s also a toilet there.”

That settled it. We went to the supermarket. I can’t say it was my favourite place on earth, but it was okay. I often helped my mother shopping–something Brian wouldn’t do if he could avoid it–so frequently Mummy did it by herself.

We entered the store and I trotted off to the loo only to be met with, “Whoa, young lady, in that one, I think.” The voice belonged to a large middle aged man who pointed at the door of the ladies.

“Sorry,” I said blushing, and darted through the door with the stereotyped picture of a woman on it. Thankfully, there was no queue. I scuttled into the cubicle and pulled my skirt up and my panties down. My tummy made horrible gurgling noises but all I did was to liberate some foul gases in a long rippling bum burp!

Mummy came in and gently called my name. I answered her and after redressing, met her by the washbasins where I washed my paws and dried them with one of those hot air things, which do everything but dry your hands.

In the cafeteria, I had some milk and a doughnut while Mummy had a coffee and scone. She pulled the pills from her handbag and read the instructions, I was supposed to take two, but we agreed I’d try one for now. I swallowed it with the milk.

“I think that went quite well, don’t you?” She said as she sipped her coffee.

“Which bit are we talking about?” I asked putting down my beaker of milk.

“With Dr Brown, I knew he’d be sympathetic.”

“How much will the appointment with the other doctor cost?” I asked, almost frightened to learn the answer.

“That is no concern of yours, darling, that’s for Daddy and me to work out.”

“Thank you, anyway.”

“You’re welcome; this is such a revelation,” she said smiling broadly.

“What is?” I asked with a degree of bewilderment.

“Having such a delightful daughter; I can’t imagine your brother being so sweet.”

“Maybe if you asked Dr Brown to refer him to a troll doctor, he’d be more pleased.”

She smiled, “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Pity!” I added with a shrug.

“Now, now, Kylie, that’s enough of that; drink up, let’s get the shopping done. How’s the tummy?”

“A bit easier, thank you.”

“Thought so, you look better.”

“What do I do if we see anyone from school?” I asked anxiously.

“Smile sweetly and ignore them. They should all be in school anyway, so I would take issue with them and the school if anyone does recognise you.”

“They may be sick as well, or a hospital or dental appointment,” I began to build all sorts of catastrophic events.

“Here, stop worrying and push the trolley.”

We worked our way around the store and I helped pack the groceries into some bags and carry them back to the car. I felt exhausted. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure there’s nothing else you want?” Mummy asked.

“No, just to go home, I feel really tired.” I yawned to emphasise my point.

“Oh, okay, sweetheart, after all, there’s always next weekend,” my mother actually cooed at me.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I said accusingly.

“Of course I am, so would you if the positions were reversed.”

“What, tormenting my child?” I wasn’t being too nice.

“Kylie, if I didn’t think you were joking, I’d be rather upset at that remark.”

I shrugged my shoulders, it was a bit unkind on reflection, so I apologised. “Sorry, Mummy; I’m just very tired and uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable, what your tummy?”

“All over really.”

“Come on, let’s get home then.”

We got home and had a light lunch, I was too tired to eat much and I still didn’t trust my tummy, which had punished me all morning. Maybe, this pretending to be a girl wasn’t such a good idea. However, staying home and having a sleep, was. My mother went back to school and I went up to lay on top of my bed. I took the skirt and top off and nodded off in just my bra and panties.

I really did zonk out, awaking a while later when I heard some noises from downstairs. I assumed Brian must be home, and my eyelashes sticking together reminded me I still had makeup on. I quickly threw on the skirt and top from the morning and slipped into the shoes.

I stole downstairs and followed the noises emanating from the kitchen. I walked in prepared to stand my ground against my elder sibling, if necessary making threats to tell tales. Well, it was all in keeping with the role play.

My red shoes clopped slightly on the ceramic floor of the kitchen and I was eye to eye with my father! Oh sh..oot!

“And who might you be, young lady? If either of those boys has been doing anything they shouldn’t be, there will be trouble.”

“No, they haven’t,” I replied quietly.

“Have you just woken up?” asked my dad.

“Yes,” I yawned to prove the point.

“Would you like a cup of tea, I’ve just made a pot?” He hadn’t recognised me, had my mother told him, or was she simply saying it to threaten Brian? This could get difficult.

“Yes please, Daddy.”

“Excuse me?” he said doing a double take. “Kyle?”

I nodded my head and felt close to tears.

“Jesus Christ!” He put the teapot very carefully on the table, “Please sit down and tell me what the hell is going on here.”

I, of course, burst into tears in true girly fashion and couldn’t say anything coherent for some time. He poured some teas, too embarrassed to do anything else, then eventually he came and hugged me. Of course I blubbed all over him but he at least softened a little.

“Your mother said something about some nonsense of your wearing a girl’s uniform to school or something and Brian being behind it all. I didn’t expect to find you still wearing…well dressed up as a girl. It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

“Are you cross with me?” I sobbed.

“Not cross, confused I think sums it up a bit more succinctly. How long has this been going on and why aren’t you in school?”

“Since Friday, and the doctor told me to stay home for a week.”

“The doctor? Why are you sick?”

“I don’t know, he’s sending me to a psychiatrist.”

“What for?”

“To see if I’m trans..erm..gendered, that’s it, transgendered.”

“You’re not are you?”

“I don’t know, Daddy, that’s why I’m seeing her.”

He cuddled me, “I think your mother has some explaining to do, are you going to stay dressed like that?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, I suppose not, it was a bit of a shock, that’s all. If you prefer it, no it’s okay for now, just stay in-doors.” He stopped and considered what he’d just said. “You didn’t go to the doctor’s like that did you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! Well for the moment, I think you’d better stay in. Your mother and I need a bit of a talk.”

“Don’t be cross with Mummy, she’s only trying to do what she thinks is best.”

“I always thought you were a bit of a wimp, I never in a million years thought you were,” he paused, “like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “If you are, I suppose it isn’t your fault especially. I suppose it explains why you don’t like sport very much.”

“I played badminton on Saturday.”

“What! Like that?”

“No, in a tennis skirt.”

“What!”

“Philip and I came runners up in his club mixed doubles.”

“What, you came second?”

“Yes, we’d have won it, except I got cramp in my leg and had to retire.”

“You played badminton as a girl?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that deceitful?”

“A bit, Philip couldn’t get anyone else to partner him.”

“Who’s Philip?”

“Philip Gonnersall, from school.”

“Is he your boyfriend or something?”

“Erm…” I blushed very red.

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Erm…”

“So, does that make you gay as well?”

“I don’t know, Daddy,” I managed to blurt out before dissolving in tears.

“Does it or doesn’t it?” He seemed to be talking to himself as I clutched to him, “If you’re really a girl, then it isn’t or is it? Talk about complicated. At least you can’t get pregnant. Thank heaven for small mercies.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I blubbed.

He went off to the cloakroom and I sat at the table and tried to dry my eyes without getting mascara all over my face.

“Hello faggot,” said Brian loudly as he came in.

“You can retract that and apologise to Kyle, NOW!” said my father as he walked back into the kitchen.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hi dad, nothing, apologise to your bro…sister, this minute.”

“Okay, sorry Kylie.” The look in his eyes was more angry than apologetic.

“Kylie, so that’s what you’re calling yourself, is it?”

“That’s what they call him in school most of the time,” offered my vengeful sibling.

“Is this true?”

“Course, innit Kylie?” said Brian, stirring malevolently.

“Well?” asked my father.

“Sometimes.” I said and shrugged, feeling tears again. I longed for my mother to return home and rescue me from all these questions.

“How long has all this been going on?” asked my father to no one in particular.

“Ages,” said my brother, smirking at me, he was enjoying turning the screw.

“Is this true?” my father asked his voice sounding concerned.

“Yeah, he, I mean she’s as queer as a four pound note.”

“Brian, that is not helpful, if anything it is unhelpful. It’s also self-contradictory, how can your brother be homo–gay, if he’s really a she?”

Brian shrugged, “Dunno, can I go now, I have homework to do?”

“Yes, go along.”

“Well, what are we going to do with you Kyle–ee?”

“I don’t know,” I sat looking at the floor.

“If you’re going to be a girl, then you can help your mother by scraping some potatoes for dinner. Do you know what she’s planned for dinner?”

“We bought some pork chops earlier.”

“You went shopping as well, dressed like that?”

“Yes, why?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, do the potatoes and whatever other veg you can find.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I have some reports to draft, I’ll be in the study,” with that he went off clutching his briefcase.

I was up to my eyeballs with potatoes and carrots when Mummy came home.

“How’s my favourite girl?” said my mother as she came in, “Ooh, doing the spuds, how kind, I could get used to this you know.”

I hugged her, “I don’t think Daddy feels the same,” I said emotionally.

“I’ll deal with your father,” she said with a determination that I hadn’t heard for quite a while. “Make me a cuppa will you and I’ll go and talk with him.”

“Have I done enough potatoes?” I asked as I boiled the kettle.

“Yes, that’s plenty, sweetheart, scrape half a dozen carrots and slice them, you know top ‘n tail them first, like we did on Sunday. Pop them on to boil, then turn it down to a simmer.

She put the chops on a baking tray and slipped them in the oven. She took her tea and one for my father and went off to the study. I tried not to think what they were saying, instead trying to concentrate on the tasks in hand, it wasn’t easy however, and I felt myself tremble several times. I really didn’t know where all this was going to go, nor did I know what I wanted out of it.

I turned the vegetables down to a simmer and checked the chops, they were cooking okay, I sat in the kitchen and worried over what was happening in the study. While I waited I laid the table, not so much to gain brownie points, but for something to do.

A few moments after I’d finished the phone rang. I answered it. “Hello?”

“Kylie?”

“Philip?”

“Yes you dozy female, who else knows about you?”

“Half the planet I expect with my luck.”

“How come?”

“Never mind, my dad came home and met me for the first time this afternoon.”

“Didn’t he know then?”

“Sort of, my mother told him over the phone.”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“He asked me who I was; he didn’t recognise me.”

“Oh wow, he didn’t recognise his own kid, weird or what?”

“Well, you can imagine how I felt.” I felt a blush coming on.

“Weird man, anyway, you still up for tonight, a bit more celebrating?”

“I don’t know, I’ll have to see what my parents say, can I ring you back?”

“Yeah, sure. See ya later, kiss, kiss,” he tittered.

I felt myself grow hotter. I replaced the handset and went to check the dinner. Everything was nearly cooked. What do I do now? If I disturb my parents it could have consequences.

I waited another ten minutes and turned off all the heat, it was going to spoil if I left it much longer. I decided I needed a decision from a higher authority. I knocked on the study door.

My mother answered, “Yes, poppet?”

“Everything is cooked,” I said feeling my anxiety levels rising.

“Have you made the gravy?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Yes you can, sweetie, like we did on Sunday.”

“I’d rather not.”

My mother looked at me, she was about to shoo me off when she changed her mind. “Okay, I’ll come now, switch it all off.”

“I have, Mummy.”

“Stuart, I need to go and sort out the dinner, Kylie has cooked most of it, we’ll finish this later.”

I heard my dad say, “Okay,” and my mother followed me to the kitchen. She checked everything, “Good girl,” she beamed at me, “I think I prefer this side of you to the sit-around boy one.”

I blushed and shrugged my shoulders, what could I say?

She made some gravy and dished up the food, I was sent to call Brian, who quietly insulted and threatened me. “Watch it nancy-boy, you won’t always have Mum and Dad to protect your femmy arse, and I’ll be waiting.”

“You started this, you moron!”

He retaliated by pulling my bra strap and letting it go with a slap. “Ouch, you pig,” I yelled.

“Brian, leave her alone,” shouted my mother, “how many times have I got to tell you?”

“You big fairy,” he hissed at me, “I’ll get you later.”

I gave him the finger and ran down the stairs before he could hit me. I nearly collided with my father as we ran into the dining room. “Boys, I mean kids behave will you, Brian stop chasing your sister I won’t tell you again.”

“Ha ha, even Dr Brown said he was a troll,” I smirked.

“I didn’t know it was a medical term,” said my father, “but it might explain a few things,” he smiled.

We ate dinner and I wondered how I was going tell them about Philip coming over, when my mother sorted the problem. “Who was on the phone earlier?”

“Erm, Philip, he wants to come over to tell me about the homework.” I blushed.

“An’ a quick snog, I’ll bet. I heard about the badminton match.” Brian gloated as I blushed even deeper red.

“What’s all this about?” demanded my father.

“His boyfriend kissed him after the badminton.”

“Her boyfriend, Brian, how many times do we have to tell you?” corrected my mother.

“Bloody fairy,” Brian hissed under his breath.

“Brian, you are grounded for a month.” My father decided enough was enough. “Kylie, your friend can come but no fooling about. If you are presenting as a young lady you’d better act like one, not a slapper. Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I said wondering whether I’d been complimented or reprimanded.

“Yeth, Daddy,” Brian mimicked in an exaggerated manner.

“That, has just cost you a quarter of your next monthly allowance.” My father was getting tough.

“What! That is like, so unfair. That little fairy is being spoilt to death, and me, the normal one, is being punished.”

“I’m not punishing you for being normal, I’m fining you because you’re a bully and I don’t like bullying. Kylie is faced with making some huge decisions which could affect us all and all you can do is make stupid and unhelpful comments.”

Brian stood up to argue until my father added, “If I were you, young man, I’d think very carefully before you lose even more of your allowance.”

Brian hesitated and sat down, “Can I go up to my room?”

“Yes,” my father acceded and Brian gave me a look of pure malice as he left the room. “Don’t let him get to you,” reassured my dad, “If he tries it on, let me know.”

“I’ll be alright, Daddy.” I left it at that.

“You’d better go and call Philip, hadn’t you?” suggested my mother. So I did, he was coming over in half an hour, so I could help with the dishes. It wasn’t creeping, I just felt it was something I ought to do. Mummy and Daddy went back into the study, to continue their discussion, Brian was up in his room judging by the noise of punk music coming from it, and I was in the kitchen playing Cinderella.

I rinsed everything off and loaded the dishwasher, I was standing in front of it when my mother popped her head around the door and said, “Kylie, why don’t you pop and freshen up before Philip gets here, oh, and thanks for looking after the dinner. It’s really nice to have a daughter about the place.”

Before I could respond she’d gone back to the study with a bottle of wine and two glasses. I went up to the bathroom and redid my makeup and combed my hair, then squirted some of the smelly my mother had given me, around my throat. I was hardly a femme fatale, but I had attempted some effort.

Philip arrived about fifteen minutes later. As I answered the door my father emerged from the study and reminded us, ‘no hanky-panky’. I have rarely felt more embarrassed. If he had told Philip to treat his daughter with respect, it could hardly have been more cringe worthy.

“What was all that about?” asked Philip.

“Brian the troll, told them about you kissing me on Saturday.”

“Oh trust him, the arsehole!”

“Did I tell you my doctor called him a troll?”

“No, good diagnosis though.”

“Yeah, that’s like, what I thought, too.”

We talked about school and he showed me the homework. I copied the details and would do it tomorrow. He promised to bring me the next lot tomorrow, I suppose I should have been grateful but somehow, having homework to do didn’t like, set me alight with gratitude. I suspected that Mummy would want me to do some housework too. This being a girl was hard work.

We sat together at the dining table, and Philip rubbed his foot against my leg and kept winking whenever I gave him eye contact. He seemed to have no problem with my new status. He even risked a kiss or two, but my heart was beating so loudly, I thought my parents must be able to hear it through the wall.

After Philip left, my parents summoned me to the study. “Kylie, this is what we have decided,” said my mother in a no-nonsense kind of way. “You can stay as a girl for the week, so you can get a little practice in and get a bit more of a feel for the role. As we don’t know when the appointment is going to come through for the specialist, we can’t plan that yet. Any questions?”

“Erm, what if I want to go back to being a boy before then?”

“Reasonable question,” said my father, “unfortunately, I think we’d prefer you to stay in girl mode, so you can get as much experience as possible during the week.”

“What about if I have to go out?” I asked, wondering if all this was a good idea.

“You seemed to cope quite well yesterday with the doctor’s and the supermarket.”

“What if someone asks me to baby sit?”

“You don’t have to accept it, but I think only the two you’ve already sat for, will be in touch for that sort of thing. As for your locksmith thing, they’ll have to get used to seeing a girl or you can refuse to help.”

They seemed to have thought through most things, which was confirmed by my father saying, “While you’re home this week, you can help out around the house, do a bit of housework or laundry and start the evening meals. It’ll be good practice if you need to look after a boyfriend or husband.”

I felt myself go pale, boyfriend, husband that was further ahead than I wanted to go for now at least. Oh boy, they were getting serious, all because that nincompoop brother of mine wanted a love letter back from his ex-slut girlfriend. Somehow, none of it seemed quite fair, yet I know my parents were making huge leaps in adjusting to my apparent situation. Part of me felt worried about it all, another was enjoying it. I looked at my nails; I needed to re-varnish them–tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Any errors, etcetera are entirely my responsibility for missing them, so blame me - Gabi, not Angharad.

Totally Insane 7- appendix.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 7–Appendix
by Angharad

I lay in bed reflecting on my day. The tummy ache had gone and so had the squits, thank goodness. I think it was nerves and stress and having Brian for a brother. Mummy and Daddy, goodness, this girl stuff really is getting to me–tummy, mummy and daddy, I never used to talk like that–well not since I was about seven or eight. At the same time it didn’t seem to bother me. A week ago, it certainly would have done.

Anyway, Mum and Dad, had been quite reasonable in their support for me as Kylie, I just wish I knew what I wanted out of all this. Everyone else seems to know what’s best for me, but I don’t, which is unusual. Normally I do know what I want, or roughly do. This girl stuff really confuses me.

Daddy had shown me a way of analysing things, you do a column of pros and one of antis. Sometimes there are opposites which are equal. I tried a few times before it made much sense, like, ‘Being a girl is good’ and ‘Being a girl is bad.’ I also tried it with ‘boy’, but that didn’t work either.

In the end I just did one for ‘Kylie’ and one for ‘Kyle’. Part of me liked being a girl, but part of me liked being a boy sometimes too. It seemed easier being a girl, except for all the getting ready stuff, but that would get easier with practice. Pretty well everything I did as a boy, I could do as a girl–except use a boy’s loo. Not everything I did as a girl could I do as a boy–babysitting, was a prime example.

I loved the new relationship with Mummy, that was such fun so far, for both of us; even Daddy, seemed to be a little gentler with me. Maybe that was just ‘cos he was feeling his way, but Mummy was definitely enjoying having a girl in the house.

I enjoyed being a girl for Philip and his kisses. I blushed as I thought of them, but it was nice. “You kiss like a girl,” he’d said. I didn’t know, I hadn’t kissed a girl on the lips. I blushed again. Was the reality, that I was gay but was hiding it? I didn’t know. Which would be worse, changing into a girl or coming out as gay? Both would be difficult for me and all my family. Any time I was alone in school, I would be vulnerable and that probably meant getting beaten up–I was useless at fighting.

Brian laughed at me when I made a fist, I’d put my thumb inside my fingers. “That’s how girls do it,” he teased, then showed me how to do it properly. “If you hit anyone like you do it, you’d hurt yourself more than them, probably break your thumbs.” It was kind of him I suppose, except the only one I’d ever hit was him–and I slapped him. He laughed then beat me up.

If being a boy meant growing into something like Brian, I’d go for the girl thing every time. However, I knew that Philip was much gentler and nicer than Brian would ever be: but even he was tougher than me. My dad was right; I’m a wimp.

I went back to my analysis, but nothing seemed to recommend being a boy, it was all very girl dominated. That seemed a bit skewed to me, maybe lying in bed in a nightdress clutching my teddy bear, caused that to happen. I’ll think some more tomorrow, after all, the shrink was unlikely to see me for a couple of weeks, so there was no desperate urgency, was there?

I awoke in a sweat, Philip and I had been kissing in a quiet corner in the school grounds. Neither of us had seen the crowd gathering until it was too late. Then they closed in on us. “Kiss him again!” they demanded and photographed us with their mobiles, they made us do it over and over and I was crying. Philip tried to be brave and pushed me behind him but they dragged him away and punched and kicked him. I sank to the floor whimpering waiting for them to get me.

“What about this one, the femmy fairy?” asked one of the boys.

“Nah leave her, it would be like beating up a girl.” As I was dressed as a boy, it left me puzzled. Philip eventually returned battered, bleeding and bruised, “Come on, Kylie, let’s get back to class.”

“But you’re hurt!” I exclaimed and threw my arms around him.

“I’ll survive, it’s worth it for my girl.” At this point I woke up, in a lather and in tears.

I tried to concentrate on the good things, like Mummy doing things with me and it being such fun. Even washing up was fun doing it with someone. I eventually went back to sleep, but in the morning I didn’t feel very rested.

Mummy made me get up and shower, including washing my hair. She then showed me what to do and I had to do for myself. Apparently, I was going to have to do it every morning, probably with a different style. I yawned, no wonder it was only seven o’clock. The troll was still asleep, I was so tempted to wake him up–like, with a bucket of ice cold water! He’d kill me, besides his bed would need changing and guess who’d have to do it?

I dried my hair and styled it as required, Mummy stood behind me watching and advising. “Right, now put your face on.”

“What?”

“Some minimal makeup, what do kids of your age wear, a bit of mascara and lip gloss. Come on, if you were going to school you’d be late.”

“But Mummy–“ I was going to say, ‘boys don’t wear makeup!’ looking in the mirror, it seemed a bit irrelevant.

I put the stuff on my face, I was quicker than yesterday and poked myself in the eye only once. I even used some of the blue eyeliner that Karen had given me. Mummy watched me and smiled to herself.

“Right, I’ve put out a skirt and top with your panties and bra and a pair of tights and shoes. It’s the equivalent of what you’d wear if you were going to school, hurry up and get dressed, don’t just stand there admiring yourself!”

That broke the spell and I ran into the bedroom and donned the clothes, after using the anti-perspirant under my arms, something I didn’t do as a boy. ‘Dove,’ it said, I hoped it wasn’t made from pigeons. Girls seemed obsessed with making every inch of themselves look or smell different from how nature intended them to be. Mind you, that seemed better than being a Brian, who frequently ronked like a dung heap.

As I struggled into the bra, panties and tights, I recalled bits of the conversation between the older girls in the library. They seemed as obsessed with boy’s bums as they did their own appearances. Mind you, I’ve heard boys say, “Look at the arse on that,” when a girl walked past. I thought about Philip’s bum for a moment–I’d never noticed it. Did that mean I wasn’t a girl?

I pulled on the skirt and thought, ‘He certainly noticed mine in those frilly tennis knickers!’ I was leaving my bedroom when Brian lurched out of his, “Outta the way, faggot, a real man needs a pee.”

“A gentleman remembers to lift the seat and replace it afterwards, not spray all over it like a tomcat.” My mother’s voice was like music to my ears. Brian scowled and mouthed, ‘fairy’ at me.

Breakfast was over, and my mother had given Brian a lift to school. I suspect he’d get a bit more advice on dealing with his new sister, which would be pouring oil on the flames. Daddy had grumbled at him at breakfast, “Don’t just shovel it in like you’re feeding a cement mixer! Be a bit less greedy, like Kylie.” That inflamed things a bit more. He actually punched me on the arm as he left, I cried and Daddy stamped all over him. It cost him a week’s pocket money. I’d have a big bruise on my left arm now–the pig!

Daddy had reports to write, so I set about tidying up, doing the dishes and vacuuming. I made us some tea when I’d finished and took him in a cup.

“Where’s yours?” he asked as I proffered his tea.

“Out there, I was going to do some homework.”

“Well go and get it, we can have a quick chat while we drink it.” I slipped out to the kitchen and collected my cup and load of misgivings about this chat. “Bring some biscuits too. There’s some chocolate HobNobs there somewhere, I saw them earlier.” I went back and retrieved the biscuits, it wasn’t a daughter he wanted, it was a maid service.

“Here we are, Daddy.” I handed him the biscuits.

“You having one, or are you trying to keep your girlish figure?”

I wasn’t sure if that was a jibe or a mild tease but for choccie HobNobs, I’d kill my own granny. I took one and for a few moments we munched and slurped tea. I was waiting for the inquisition to start. I wasn’t long disappointed.

“So did you kiss that boy last night?”

“Only when he left,” it was true, he spent most of the time kissing me.

“I can’t get over how normal you look.”

I looked horrified, what was I supposed to look like–a little green man?

He must have seen my horrified expression, “I didn’t mean it like that, I meant, you look like a normal girl, not a boy dressing up as a girl. Nah, that still isn’t quite what I mean. You look good as a girl, yeah, better than you do as a boy. Does that sound better?”

“I think so,” I stood up and went and sat on his lap.

He put his arm around me, “Crikey, when was the last time you did this?”

“I can’t remember,” I said snuggling against his chest.

“What are you after?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to cuddle with you, Daddy.”

He kissed me on the top of my head. “You’re a strange kid, Kyl–ie, at least you used to be, maybe things are making sense at long last.”

I sat up, “What do you mean, Daddy?”

“I’m not sure. There was always something not right about you, compared to Brian–he’s a normal boy, well, as far as psychopaths go. You always seemed to struggle, almost as if the clothes didn’t quite fit you. Then I see you like this and it seems right somehow, everything fits. What do you think?”

I nearly fell off his lap in shock. What did he mean? Before I could answer, the phone rang.

“Hello, Stuart Mosse. Oh hello, Dr Brown, an appointment for Kylie? Yes that’s fine, Friday at two. If I move things around a bit, I think I might be able to take her. Dr Andrea Schlessinger, yeah, I’ve got that, Meadow Road Clinic, I know it, we have a shop just around the corner. How’s the handicap? Down to seven! Jeez, mine’s stuck at nine, but then I haven’t done a round for weeks. What, on Sunday, yeah, I could make eight o’clock. Great, I’ll see you there then. Bye.”

He put the phone down and looked at me. I had removed myself from his lap as he moved to pick it up. I was staring into his eyes. “Well, young lady, your date with destiny is on Friday at two.”

I sat with wide eyes and probably a gold fish mouth. I hoped I wasn’t dribbling. “I heard you,” I said when my brain clicked into start mode again.

“Dr Andrea Schlessinger, I wonder if she’s a foreigner?”

“Does it matter?” I asked wondering whether she would be nice or fierce? Would she think I was a fairy or a girl stuck in a boy’s body, or something else altogether? Would she want to cut my dingle off? And what did I think about it? I hadn’t thought about it at all, except the other day, when, I wondered why boys made such a fuss about them, their winkies I mean, to me it was only something I used for weeing; was I missing something?

“No, of course it doesn’t matter, I simply thought if she was foreign we could have a language problem, you know, subtleties of English and all that.” I didn’t know, I wasn’t very subtle, mainly because I wasn’t sure what it meant. Maybe I was subtle and didn’t know it.

“Are you playing golf with Dr Brown on Sunday?”

“Yes, haven’t done so for ages. Why?”

“I just wondered that’s all.” Actually, I wondered what they might say about me, but if they play in larger groups, which I think they do, they wouldn’t be able to say much at all. “I like Dr Brown.”

“He’s a nice bloke,” agreed my father.

“Daddy, what did you mean about the clothes didn’t seem to fit?”

“Oh it’s nothing, lovely. The important thing is that the ones you’re wearing look really good on you.”

“Do they?” I felt puzzled.

“Why, don’t they feel comfortable?” Now he looked puzzled.

“Yeah, they’re okay, just a bit draughty.” Well they were.

He laughed and shook his head. “You’ll get used to it.”

Would I? Did I want to? Goodness, what will I tell this shrink on Friday? What will she tell me? I wanted to know, but I coulda waited a month or twelve. It was scary stuff. I mean, after I saw her would I be labelled some sort of wuss? An official fairy or faggot? It was double scary.

“You’re not listening to me are you?” My father’s voice came through rather loudly.

“Sorry, Daddy, I was thinking about Friday.”

“What about it?”

I could hardly tell him what I had really been thinking, so I fibbed, “I was wondering what to wear.”

“Spoken like a true girl, Kylie, the more I see of you the more I realise how you must have suffered as a boy.”

“Who me?” I asked in astonishment.

“No the cat, who else, you silly goose?”

“Maybe, I dunno.”

“How about we go out for some lunch?”

“I have homework to do,” I reminded him.

“So? I have reports to do. Come on, get your coat and we’ll grab a burger somewhere.” He wasn’t in a mood to listen or argue, so I went and got my fleece jacket.

I expected we’d end up in McDonalds but I was to be surprised. He parked the car at a pub. Normally, he doesn’t take me into pubs which is fine by me. I don’t like the smell of the beer and fags. However, I’d forgotten they don’t allow smoking anymore in public places, and this place looked okay.

He ushered me into the restaurant end and we took a vacant table. There were quite a few people eating here, I sat there clutching my bag. “I’m going to have a pint I think, what would you like, daughter-o mine?”

My mind went blank, drink–wet stuff you pour down your throat–oh yes, remember now, “Can I have Ribena?”

“Course you can, if they have it.” He went off to the bar, this was something new, I was sitting at a table with people all around me and they had time to stare. I tried to relax, but all I wanted was him to come back and protect me. A woman on the next table caught my eye and smiled, I smiled back. Was she smiling because she knew or was she just being friendly?

I decided to have dig in my bag, it stopped me looking at other people and I hoped, them at me. I found some tissues and pretended I needed to wipe my nose. Daddy returned with the drinks. I thanked him and went to pick up my glass but my hand was shaking so much, I couldn’t.

“Relax, girl, pubs aren’t that frightening,” he said softly to me. Maybe not if you’re wearing trousers, but in a draughty skirt, I beg to differ. “I’ve ordered some food, I hope that’s okay. To save time, they look quite busy.”

“What did you order?” I asked hoping it wasn’t something I didn’t like–like Brussels sprouts! Yuck!

“A steak roll, is that okay?”

Oh wow, only my favourite! “Yes, Daddy, that sounds lovely.”

“I think you chose one before, so I sort of remembered.” He was absolutely right. I’ve only had one before and it was deee-lishhhh! We don’t go to pubs very often, sometimes on a Sunday if he isn’t working and then it’s usually a roast dinner.

“What are you going to wear on Friday?” he asked and it brought me back to the present, instead of dribbling over my lunch expectations.

“Erm, I don’t know, I thought I’d talk to Mummy, see what she thought about it.” In fact, I didn’t have much idea. I couldn’t remember what I had in the wardrobe, let alone what would be most suitable. However, I was enjoying the attention and his softer approach.

“Hmmm, I was wondering if you wanted to have a quick flit around a shop or two on the way back. See if anything takes your fancy?”

Was he offering to buy me a new outfit? This never happened to Kyle, wow! Do I like this, or do I like this? Not so sure about the buying clothes without Mummy though, or Gemma. But can I afford to turn it down? I won’t be on my own will I? My tummy flipped and I wondered if it was wind or nerves, or even both.

He told me he was getting a new car soon, the firm paid for it and he had ordered an Audi. I’m not into cars, unless it’s their locking systems and those are getting too electronic for my liking. You need special equipment to get into them, ultrasonic stuff and so on. However, I tried to sound enthusiastic about his new toy.

“Talking of transport, maybe it’s just as well you bought the bike that you did.” He was referring to my girly Trek, it was okay, it got me about and went okay and was good for what I paid for it.

“Yeah, I like my bike.” Well I did, it had two wheels what more could I want.

“Did you buy it because it was a girl’s one?”

Duh! I bought it by mistake, another of Brian’s jokes–he knew it was a girl’s one, I didn’t, he told me a Trek, MTB in my size. I didn’t know it was his friend’s sister’s old bike.

“Not especially, that was just a bit of luck.” All of it bad! The ribbings I’d taken because of that bloody bike, and he was as much of a source of them as as anyone.

“And to think, I used to tease you about it. I’m sorry for that.”

“’S okay.” I saw the waitress arriving with our plates, it was going to end the conversation in the best way possible–a mouthful of steak roll.

“That bike you lost was nice one, and I was very cross with you for losing it. So I made you keep the Trek to teach you a lesson. Looks like you taught me one instead.”

I didn’t answer, I was stuffing as much of my food down my gullet as fast as I could, in as delicate a manner as I could. My hands had stopped shaking and I was enjoying my meal, I could even lift my glass without the hint of a tremor.

We finished our lunch and I had a nervous moment when I went to the loo on the way out. It was all about nothing, there was no one else in the ladies, so I needn’t have worried. I touched up my lippy and Daddy was waiting for me when I emerged. He smiled and I took his hand as we walked back to the car. He seemed so much more protective of me than before, and I think I liked it.

We parked at one of his shops and walked into a couple of stores where we browsed what was on offer. Or I browsed, he stood behind me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I just watched the other girls. Look through stuff until you see something you like, look for your size, hold it up against you, maybe check in a mirror, stick it back and start again, or take armfuls off to the changing rooms.

We ended up in New Look, a chain of boutiques who sell stuff mainly for teens at reasonable prices. I found two skirts I liked and a top which would go with both of them. He held my bag while I tried them on but insisted I show him them. Cor! This was worse than going out with a boyfriend! How did I know that?

He gave me the money to buy them but we agreed, I needed something a bit more classy for Friday. We ended up in Debenhams department store. He helped me choose a blue floral print dress, with short puff sleeves and full skirt. I tried it on, it made me look about six years old. He liked it, but I gave a very firm negative opinion and we settled for a cotton dress in black with a pink design on it, it had thin shoulder straps and I put it on over a pink tee with long sleeves. He wasn’t sure, but I was. Gemma had something like it and it would go with my fleece too. Maybe I should tap him for a jacket?

I did five minutes later, a denim one with a bit of embroidery on it, but it would go with loads of things.

“I suppose you need shoes to go with the dress, your mother always does.” My father intoned in a resigned sort of way, so who was I to argue? I found a pair of red pumps and a little red bag, and after some longing looks, he bought me a pair of Assos trainers as well, with a lilac trim–kewl or what?

I hugged him and said in a little girl voice, “Thank you, Daddy.”

He shook his head, “I know I’ve been done,” he said, “come on let’s go before you bankrupt me.”

We popped in his shop before we went back because I wanted some more lip gloss and he can get discount there.

“Hello, Stuart,” said the woman behind the counter.

“Hi, Lorraine.”

“Who’s this?”

“My youngest: Kylie, say hello to Lorraine.” He had his hand around my shoulder so I could hardly dive into the makeup rack.

“Hi, Lorraine.” I said shyly looking at the floor and blushing.

“She needs some new lipstick or other,” my father’s eyebrows rose to emphasise his exclusion from the feminine mysteries of makeup.

“Help yourself, sweetheart, do you know what you want?”

“I think so,” I said, not having clue but this was a voyage of discovery after all. I went off to the makeup counter and explored the racks of sameness with different names.

“I thought you had two boys, Stuart.”

“Nah, a boy and a girl, Brian and Kylie.”

“Oh, I must have misremembered.” They chatted on and I felt myself blushing. It was embarrassing for me, how did my parents feel, with all this potential for change? Well that was up to them, I had to cope with my own level of hazard, which was manifesting in a hand covered in stripes of different testers. I couldn’t remember which one was which.

Fifteen minutes later we were back in the car, me clutching the bag of assorted cosmetics. It was much bigger than I intended, I got the lip gloss eventually plus matching nail varnish and remover pads, plus makeup remover wipes and a whole pile of ex-stock testers which had never been used.

Lorraine had said, “At your age, kiddo, my mother would have murdered me if I used makeup, nowadays they seem to start in the pram. Take this lot because they’re only destined for the bin and you can have a play. Just make sure you moisturise after you’ve cleaned it all off. She gave me a small bottle of expensive moisturiser and winked at me.

“Thank you so much for all my stuff. No wonder Daddy likes working here, everyone is so nice.”

“Stuart, I hope you’re taking notice of this customer feedback, maybe a pay rise for our hard work?”

“I wish,” said my dad sighing, “I’m only the manager remember, I do what I’m told too.”

“The area manager.”

“Yeah, big deal, just means more aggro from you lot.”

“Kylie, does it look as if I’m hassling your dad?” Lorraine smiled sweetly at me. My father however, narrowed his eyes, he knew he was beaten.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking.” I said and smiled sweetly back. They both laughed.

I was still doing my homework when my brother arrived, “Hey, fairy cake, get me a can of coke.”

“Get your own, I’m busy.” I had to put up some sort of resistance.

“You wait, faggot face.”

“Yeah, wanna lose some more of your allowance?” I spat back at him.

“You wanna lose your little girl face?” he held a fist inches from my nose, it smelt, not as much as my response merited, but I was playing it for all it was worth.

“Erk! When did you last wash your hands, erk! They stink.”

Instead of hitting me, he sniffed his hand. “I can’t smell anything.”

“Well I can, no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend, you pong.”

“You cheeky cow,” he said before sniffing under his arms. However, he didn’t hit me and went upstairs. A few minutes later, I heard water running and I chuckled.

I finished my homework while he was de-lousing himself and by the time he came downstairs, I was up in my room trying to sort out my wardrobe. I needed a bigger one really.

I packed some of the boy clothes I hadn’t worn for a while in some black plastic bags, and emptied out a couple of drawers in my tallboy. Then I re-hung my girly clothes. They were fast overtaking the rest. I was really pleased with the denim jacket it would go with my skirt and the two pairs of jeans I had and my new trainers, they were fab.

Daddy had dropped me off after our shopping trip and I promised not to burn the house down. I did make myself some tea–I’ve been drinking it since I was about four years old and I do like it. Then I’d taken my new purchases upstairs and laid them on the bed.

I asked him about a dressing table as we drove home because with all this makeup, I needed somewhere to keep it.

“Let’s see how you get on with the doctor first. I don’t want to spend out on large items until we know they’re necessary. If you stay as a girl or intend to do so, we’ll see about getting you one. Okay?”

It seemed a reasonable argument, so how could I protest? Then he said something about a shop mirror in the garage which he would set up in my bedroom so I had a better one than I currently had. Fair enough, I thought, at least he was trying. Actually, with his acceptance and generosity today, I thought he was wonderful. Maybe this girl thing was a good idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks to Gabi for more express editing - any errors left are entirely my responsibility, or >^^< you know who!

Totally Insane 8 - post partum

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Identity Crisis

Other Keywords:

paediatric psychiatrist.

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 8–Post Partum
by Angharad

I sat outside the doctor’s room, I’d been in there for forty five minutes, and
now it was my parent’s turn. I was trying to pretend I was reading a magazine, but my hands were shaking.

I reflected on what had happened. Dr Andrea Schlessinger was a Brit. She was also ancient, at least thirty and I suppose for an old woman, very pretty. She had long dark brown hair, with brown eyes and a nice smile. She was wearing a top and skirt, with black boots.

“Oh hello, young lady, I was expecting to see a boy.”

“Do you want me to dress up as a boy, I can go home and change if you want?” Was I saying the right things? Suddenly the strappy dress with tee shirt and leggings felt very hot.

“No, if you’re comfortable wearing those clothes that’s fine.” My mother came in with me, but she was shooed out a few moments later, with, “It’s okay, Mum, I’m only going to ask your daughter a few questions, then I’ll talk with you afterwards, if that’s okay?”

“Shouldn’t one of us be here as well?” asked my mother wanting to know what was going to happen.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to you about what Kylie and I said.” Then she pushed my mother out of the door.

“Right, Kylie, how about a cold drink, it’s warm in here isn’t it?” She placed a small tub of orange drink in front of me, one of those with a straw in the top. I watched it for several minutes before I picked it up–and only after she had said, “It’s okay you know, it isn’t poisoned.”

I laughed and she laughed too, she had a lovely laugh and I relaxed a bit. She sipped her glass of water and I sucked on my straw. The orange drink wasn’t as nice as the barley water we get at home, but it was okay.

“Is it okay if I call you, Kylie?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Forget the doctor bit, I’m Andrea, okay?”

“Thank you, Dr Andrea.”

“So how long have you been wearing dresses?”

“About a week or so.”

“Is that all? Goodness, you seem to have become used to them very quickly.”

“I don’t know, have I?”

“Do you like wearing them?”

“They’re okay.”

“Would you prefer to wear boys things?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Well, where I am and what I’m doing. Like, at home it doesn’t matter unless Philip comes around, or my brother, it piss.., erm, it annoys him.”

“So it pisses off your brother, does it?”

I blushed and nodded.

“Who is Philip? Does he like you in dresses or does it annoy him too?”

“Philip is a friend from school–we play badminton together.”

“Is he in your class?”

“Yes, for some subjects.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yes.” I blushed.

“Does he like you?”

“Yes, but he prefers Kylie.”

“So he likes you as a girl?”

“Yes.” I blushed even more.

“As a girl, do you like him?”

“Yes.” I said very quietly and felt, even hotter.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m not here to judge you, just to try and understand what’s happening inside you. If you like Philip, it’s okay with me.”

I nodded my response, too embarrassed to speak.

“Have you held hands?”

I nodded.

“And kissed?”

I nodded again, there was a definite danger I would be ruining my makeup any minute.

“Was it good?”

I nodded and the tears came.

She handed me a tissue and told me to be careful how I dabbed my eyes otherwise it would mess up my mascara. I nodded, I liked her, she was really nice.

“Did you do your own makeup?”

I nodded again.

“Hey, you’re really good at it, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“You certainly are, I see seventeen year olds who don’t do it as well?”

“What, boys?”

“No, girls–duh!” she rolled her eyes upwards and we both laughed. “You’re a very pretty girl, Kylie.”

I was back to blushing.

“Do you see yourself as a girl?”

I nodded, my throat was too choked to speak.

“Do you prefer it to being a boy?”

I shrugged.

“Do you get bullied as a boy?”

I nodded, and the tears came back.

“Okay, young lady. Would you like to dress as a girl all the time?”

I hesitated, then thinking about being bullied, I nodded. I didn’t know if it was the right answer.

“Why did you start dressing as a girl?”

“I needed to get into the girls school to try and get some letters my brother wrote, back for him.”

“What? You went undercover to help your brother?”

“Yes.”

“So you hadn’t thought of being a girl before then?”

“Not really, I just knew everyone thought I was different, more like a girl than a boy. They even called me names in school: they called me Kylie ages ago.”

“So it wasn’t your idea to dress up in skirts and things?”

“No.”

“So someone helped you?”

“Some girls I know.”

“But you enjoyed it?”

“Not at first, I thought I’d look stupid…”

“But you didn’t–look stupid?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

“It was okay, I guess.”

“And no one said anything?”

“Mrs Smith, said I looked nicer. She thinks I’m a girl anyway, she doesn’t know I’m a boy. If she did, she’d have killed me.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I slept with Gemma.”

“You shared a bed with her?”

“Yes.”

“Was that good?”

“We had a nice chat.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, what else would we do?” I felt myself blushing.

“You didn’t try to kiss her or touch her?”

“Of course not.”

“And she didn’t try to touch or kiss you?”

“No, why?”

“Have you kissed Philip?”

More blushes, “Yes.”

“Was it nice?”

I nodded, it was getting really hot in this room.

“Did he like it too?”

I nodded again, “He said I kissed like a girl.”

“Do you?”

“I dunno, I’ve never kissed one.”

“And he has?”

“I think so.”

“Did he try to touch you anywhere?”

“No, he just put his arm around me.”

“Did you want him to touch you?”

“I don’t know, didn’t think about it.”

“But you like being a girl for him?”

“Yes, he’s nice and I like him.”

“Does he protect you from the bullies?”

“Sometimes; he’s not always around.”

“But he’s a good friend, okay? Do you have any other friends?”

“Gemma and a couple of other girls.”

“No other boys?”

“No, they just tease me or beat me up.”

“What do you do when you’re with your girl friends?”

“We hang out, talk, play music, that sort of thing.”

“You didn’t want to wear their clothes or play with dolls and things?”

“Nah, none of them play with dolls, we’re eleven and twelve.”

“Goodness! How silly of me, of course you are. However, some girls like dolls at that age: I did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I’d upset her now, she’d probably lock me up as mad.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, but some girls enjoy their dolls until quite a bit older. You don’t have any?”

“No, I’ve got a teddy.”

“Nice one?”

“I like it.”

“Do you do anything else with the girls?”

“Ride our bikes?”

“I like cycling, what sort of bike have you got?”

“A mountain bike, a girl’s one.”

“So that was fortuitous?”

“What does that mean?”

“Sorry, a bit of good luck, to have a girl’s bike.”

“It was an accident, my old bike got pinched and Daddy said I had to buy the next one myself. Brian, said his friend had one for sale, a good one, so I bought it and it turned out to be a girl’s one; he thought it was very funny.”

“Who’s Brian.”

“My horrid big brother.”

“I see. What would happen if I said you had to go back to wearing boys clothes?”

“My parents would be mad.”

“Would they, why is that?”

“They’ve spent quite a lot of money on girl’s things.”

“So they like you being a girl?”

“They do now they’re getting used to it.”

“They didn’t before?”

“They were surprised.”

“Did they say anything about it?”

“They didn’t recognise me at first.”

“Is that all?”

“Daddy said, I looked better as a girl and it explained a number of things. He thought I looked strange as a boy.”

“What do you think about that?”

“It’s okay, he took me shopping and bought me this dress.”

“He has good taste.”

“No he doesn’t, he wanted me to buy one that made me look about six, I chose this one.”

“So, you have good taste.”

“Thank you,” I smiled, it seemed I had done something right at last.

“It’s coming near to the end of your part of the interview, I want to see your parents next, have you any questions?”

“Am I really a girl?”

“By appearance, a very pretty one. If I saw you in the street, I wouldn’t know you hadn’t been one for long.”

“Am I transgen..whatever it is?”

“Transgendered?”

“That’s the word.”

“Possibly, it’s an umbrella term which doesn’t mean much by itself. The diagnosis I’m looking for is Gender Identity Disorder, or GID for short.”

“Am I, GID?”

“You could be, I need to see you some more before I can be sure.”

“Does that mean, you’ll cut my winkie off?”

“Would that make a difference?”

“Not really, although I suppose it would hurt and how would I wee?”

“So if you didn’t have a ‘winkie’, you wouldn’t care?”

“Not really, should I?”

“I don’t know, I’m not here to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do.”

“Does it hurt to cut a winkie off and would I still be able to wee?”

“Why, do you want me to?”

“I don’t care, but I don’t like being hurt.”

“Well relax, I’m not going to cut anything off, so no one is going to hurt you.” She paused, “Is that your own hair?”

“Yes, is there something wrong with it?”

“No, it looks lovely. Do you always have it as long as this?”

“I have for a year or two.”

“What do your parents say?”

“They were always telling me off, but I refused to get it cut.”

“Is that so you looked more girlish?”

“I don’t know why, I just don’t like having my hair cut.”

“If I said, I wanted to cut it to make it prettier, would you let me?”

“Maybe, as long as you didn’t cut too much off the length.”

“Okay, Kylie, I need to see your parents now, can you wait while I chat with them?”

I nodded.

“Good girl.” She opened the door, “Mr and Mrs Mosse, do come in. I’ll see you again, Kylie, bye.”

So here I am waiting to see what happens next?

*****************************************************************

Thanks to Gabi for express proofing. Any errors still here are entirely the responsibility of a certain cat, who shall remain nameless.

Totally Insane 9 - Aprés entrevue

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Identity Crisis

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 9–Aprés entrevue.
by Angharad

We were huddled in the cafeteria of the local supermarket; Mummy looked quite pink in the face–flushed–I think is the word. She was rather cross and Daddy looked quite guilty. We were drinking tea and I had a big chocolate muffin in front of me. Daddy says, they’re the only good thing to come out of the States, but he also says it’s not a proper muffin, which according to him is more like a scone thing. I don’t care, in a minute I’m going to eat all of this cake–yummy!

“How could that women accuse me of wanting to turn my son into a girl?” my mother said with anger.

“Calm down,Rosemary; she didn’t accuse you of any such thing. She simply asked if you were disappointed when we had two sons, instead of a boy and girl.”

“But I love my kids, boys or girls.” Now Mummy was close to tears and I felt very uncomfortable for her. I placed my hand on hers. She looked at me and smiled, “You’re such a nice kid, Kylie.”

“This is all my fault,” I said.

“No it isn’t, sweetheart, it’s no one’s fault,” my mother reassured me.

“Yes it is, if I hadn’t tried to help that…that troll, Brian, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Dr Schlessinger seemed to think it would,” said my dad.

“What? What did she say about me?” I was shocked.

“She said she couldn’t believe you’d only been a girl for a week. We told her that you had. She then said, that she couldn’t see any boy in you at all.”

“What? What does that mean?” I felt quite scared by that remark.

“I think it means, she thinks you’re a girl, sweetheart.” Now it was my mum’s turn to put her hand on mine.

I sat back on the chair in total shock, I didn’t feel hungry or thirsty any more. I didn’t feel anything, the room seemed to be spinning around.

“Kylie, Kylie, can you hear me?” My father was standing alongside me and was holding me.

“I erm…I feel…erm…sick.” My mother shoved a plastic bag in front of me and I threw up in it. I heard someone on the next table grumble about allowing sick children in a restaurant. Daddy said something pretty awful back, about them growing up or going back to their loony bin. If I hadn’t felt so sick, I’d have laughed.

A lady from the restaurant staff came to see if I was alright, which was nice of her. Mummy, told her I was, that it was travel sickness and would soon pass. She brought me a glass of water and took the bag of sick away.

“Are you okay now?” asked my mother.

I nodded, which wasn’t the best idea when you feel sick. “Yes, sorry I was sick, I couldn–“

“It’s okay, sweetheart, you couldn’t help it. You’ve had a bit of a shock, that’s all. Here drink some water and it’ll help to take the nasty taste away.”

I took the water, my hand was shaking and she steadied it, helping me to sip the water. It helped to calm me down.

“Is your little girl all right?” A man in a suit asked my parents. His badge said he was the manager.

“Yes, she’s okay, thank you?”

“There’s nothing we can do to help her?” asked the manager.

“No thanks, she got herself a bit worked up, it’s okay.”

“Very well, but if there should be, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“You’re very kind, Mr erm–“

“Adams, Mark Adams.”

“Thanks very much,” said my dad and shook his hand. “I think the best thing we can do is to take her home.”

“Probably,” he agreed, “I’ve a girl about the same age. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He then went off to soothe the wrinkles in the people who were complaining and he offered them a free pot of tea. He’d gone by the time I felt able to walk.

As we left the shop, a young woman came up with a small bunch of carnations, “Mr Adams, sends these with his compliments.” She pressed the flowers into my hands.

“Wow, thank you,” I said and looked around. I caught sight of him in the distance; he waved and I waved back. My parents waved too.
“I think we’ll be doing our shopping here for the foreseeable future,” said my mother and laughed.

When we got home, I ate the muffin. I was going to poison it and give it to Brian, but the slug pellets were the wrong colour! “So does Dr Andrea think I’m a girl?” I asked, trying to understand what she had said.

“It looks that way,” replied my father, drinking his tea.

“So what do we do?” I asked.

“Go back on Tuesday, and see her some more.”

“Is she gonna cut my winkie off?”

“No, poppet, she’s a shrink, that would be done by a surgeon if it’s done at all.”

Does that mean she could shrink it? I doubted it although I didn’t know why they called her sort of doctor, a shrink. Perhaps she can shrink things. I asked a question that wasn’t so questionable. “But won’t they need to cut it off if I’m a girl?”

“They don’t do such things lightly, you need to be properly assessed and the options explained to you and us. If, and it’s a big if, they decide it’s in your best interests and you agree, then surgery may be offered when you’re quite a bit older.”

“What, like thirteen?”

“I think a bit older than that kiddo. I don’t think they give hormones until you’re older than that, but they may give you anti-androgens.”

“Andy who?” I said.

“Not andy anyone, anti-androgens. Pills to stop you turning into a youth, like Brian.”

“Can we get them on Tuesday?” I asked and he laughed.

“What’s wrong with Brian?” he asked.

“Everything.”

“Like what?”

“He smells.”

“Okay, he could wash a bit more often, is that all?”

“So do his clothes.”

“That would go with the washing, anything else?”

“He swears.”

“Does he now, if I catch him, he’ll wish he hadn’t, and…”

“He hits me,” I showed the bruise he’d given me the other day on my left arm.

“He’s a boy I’m afraid, they do things like that and anyway I’ve already punished him for that.”

“He lies and he bullies me.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m trying to deal with that.”

“He laughs at me and calls me names.”

“That’s in hand, too.”

“He pinches your booze.”

“Does he now? I wondered why it was disappearing.” My father shook his head.

“Come on, little Miss Tell-Tale, you can help me get the dinner, and you need to put your flowers in water. I think you can send Mr Adams a thank-you note, we’ll do that after dinner.” Mummy had interrupted my revenge session, but hopefully, I had scored a few points and left Daddy to sort it out. With luck, Brian, will be grounded for about fifty years.

“Have I got to go back to being a boy?” I asked as I cut the ends off the stems before I put them in water.

“I don’t know, sweetheart, don’t you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“What about school? You can’t stay away indefinitely.”

“I don’t know, I can’t go there as a girl, they’ll kill me.” I winced as I said it, as if I could feel the blows descending.

“Okay, sweetheart, we’ll sort something. I’ll speak to your head teacher.”

“No, don’t do that, he’s horrible, he’ll tell everyone.” I was feeling quite nauseous again.

“He can’t, Kylie, he’s required to keep this confidential.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not allowed to tell anyone.”

“Does it mean he’s not allowed to write it anywhere as well?”

“Probably not, why?”

“Well he could write it down and leave it for other people to see. It would be round the school in five minutes.”

“Kylie, I’m sure that wouldn’t happen and we have to tell them something. How do you think it would look if we were seen to not be complying with the Education Act, especially as I’m a teacher?”

“So that’s more important than me?”

“Don’t be silly, you are the most important person in my life, along with your brother and Daddy.” She hugged me. “But we have to obey the law, which says we have to send you to school unless there’s a very good reason. You are too young to stay home by yourself, so we need to sort something out, maybe, even a change of school.”

I felt like running away, but as I wouldn’t be able to decide what to wear, I decided I’d stay a bit longer. Then there was Philip, if I swapped schools would I see him? He might find another girl.

“Kylie, you’re supposed to be putting those in some water before they die.” My mother’s voice interrupted my thoughts and I went back to sorting out my flowers.

“I wonder if Mrs Johnson could keep an eye on you for a few days?” said my mother thinking out loud.

“Oh yes, that would be brill, then I could help look after Sarah.” I thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Kylie, you really are a girl, aren’t you?” My mother gave me a funny look.

“Why? What did I do now?”

“I couldn’t see Brian wanting to look after someone’s baby girl, even if his life depended upon it. You get excited at the prospect.”

“Well yes, she’s lovely and so good,” I cooed.

“You wait, young lady, she was just luring you into a false sense of security. All babies have their off days, and that’s when they’re at their most challenging.”

“I’d still like to help look after her.”

“Do the potatoes, while I have a word with your daddy.” I set to work on the spuds, then the carrots and the cabbage she’d left out.

She returned some while later. “Oh thanks, darling.” She kissed me for doing all the veg. “I’ve spoken to Mrs Johnson, and she said she’d look after you next week, but she couldn’t promise any longer than that. What do you think?”

“I think I’d like that, Mummy. Can I help with baby Sarah?”

“You’ll have to help her, full stop; so all the things I’ve been teaching you, using the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine, and so on will be useful. Plus you’ll have to do any homework until we can sort out some form of schooling.”

“Okay,” I grinned. I loved helping with the baby.

We continued preparing the dinner when Spotty Dick, aka Brian, arrived.

“Out the way, faggot,” he said barging past me.

“Ouch, spotty face!”

“Children please behave, act your ages not your shoe sizes.”

“I thought they‘d have had you in a padded cell by now, in a straight jacket, along with all the other loonies,” he made a silly face as he said this.

“Well you couldn’t come an’ see me unless they let you out of the zoo, you hairy ape,” I poked my tongue out for good measure.

“I’ll get you later, faggot,” he said poking me in the chest.

“Ouch, that hurt,” I said far louder than it deserved.

“Brian, leave your sister alone,” called my mother, so it worked.

“I would, if I had one,” he sneered at me.

I poked my tongue at him again.

At dinner, Mummy asked Brian, “Don’t you want to know how your sister got on at the clinic?”

“Not really,” he mumbled.

“What did you say, Brian?” asked Mummy.
“Yeah, okay; how did the fairy get on with the head shrinker?”

“Your sister is not a fairy, and I wish you wouldn’t keep saying it. The doctor thinks she is GID.”

“GID? What’s that, a Gay Idiotic Dork?” he laughed until he saw Daddy looking at him.

“Brian, if anyone here is a dork, it’s you. GID is Gender Identity Disordered. Kylie, really is a girl;” Daddy said this very firmly.

Brian looked at him for a moment, then at me, then at Mummy; and then he burst out laughing.

“What is so funny, young man?” asked Daddy, who was trying to remain calm although I could see the vein in his neck pulsing, like it does when he’s about to blow his stack.

Brian was still giggling until that question made him realise he could have made a mistake. “I thought it was like, funny, Kyle is a boy, so the clever dick doctor got it wrong.”

“And you are better qualified to know, are you Dr Brian?” Mummy asked angrily.

“Well, erm–anyone can see he’s not really a girl, I mean he’s got a dick to start with–“ Brian was digging himself in deeper, but in best girl mode, I was beginning to cry. I wasn’t sure why; I think all the raised voices set me off.

“Brian,” said Daddy with a calmness that could only mean he was one step away from murdering his elder child, “from now on, you will refer to your sister as a girl, if you don’t, I am going to do something very nasty to you. Do you understand?”

“Erm–yes, Dad.”

“If I hear one more reference to faggot, fairy or other derogatory term, I will make you wear a dress to school, and see how you like it? Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Now please go to your room.”

“But, Dad, it’s my gym night.”

“Now, Brian.”

My brother rose from the table and after sending me a withering glance, he slunk upstairs and shut his door noisily.
I sat there, completely dumbfounded.

“Kylie, please close your mouth before something nests in it,” Daddy continued. “I want you to tell me if he abuses you any more, you know, calls you names and so on.”

I nodded. This was getting serious, yet the image of Brian in a gymslip made me want to laugh out loud. This just wasn’t the time or place. Brian was going to be livid at missing his gym session and I’ll bet he blames me, an’ I didn’t do anything! I wondered if I could ask Mrs Johnson to adopt me?

I helped my mother clear up the dishes after the meal, well you don’t do it during it, do you? I didn’t want to stray too far from my parents, Brian was likely ‘to be as mad as a cut snake’. It’s an Aussie expression I heard on the telly some time ago, can’t remember what it was in–Dame Edna? Dunno, it’s not important.

We watched the box for a bit, then when the stress of the day began to take over, I nodded off to sleep and my father apparently carried me up to bed. I was glad it was Mummy who undressed me: somehow, Daddy doing it, feels wrong. I don’t know why, except things have changed since my visit to that clinic. I feel different and I think Mummy and Daddy are treating me differently. I don’t know what I feel about it at the moment, it’s too strange.

I awoke the next morning, it was earlier than usual. I was lying in my bed and had no recollection of getting there, talk about weird! I immediately checked that I still had all my bits–phew, what a relief! Then when I thought about it, it looked as if I was going to be stuck as girl and I wasn’t at all sure about that.

As my eyes filled with tears, and the tears ran down the side of my face into my hair, I didn’t know what I was or what I wanted. This used to be straightforward: I was a boy, albeit a not very successful one, but my world had an order to it. That was all wiped away in one afternoon, less than that, in an hour or so.

How could there have been such a massive change? Was there one? I tried to understand and analyse what was happening. My parents still loved me, if anything even more. Brian was still a jerk–so no change there. I was being called by a girl’s name, well apart from my family, lots of kids called me that anyway. In fact, so far, the only big change was wearing girl’s clothes and altering my appearance.

Okay, so that’s pretty big. I look so different and the clothes feel very different. I’m expected to behave very differently when I wear them, and people treat me differently–except, you know who, the troll!

I’m still the same, I think–or am I? I don’t know any more. I felt a tear run into my hair. I felt scared. Brian thinks it’s so funny, maybe he should try it and see what he thinks about it then. I’ll bet he’d change his tune.

All because, Dr Andrea thinks I’m GI Joe or something, Gender Identity something or other, why can’t I remember that word? Maybe I’m trying to forget it deliberately? Like I’d sent my memory secret orders to forget it. Orders, that’s it, Gender Identity Order, no, it begins with ‘D’ d-order? Nah, dis something, that’s it, Disorder, Gender identity Disorder. I had remembered, now for the hard bit–what to do about it?

I tried to work out what would be better as a boy, there wasn’t much and loads I’d lose, including baby sitting baby Sarah. I might also lose Philip, he seemed much more interested in me as a girl. The attention from Mummy and Daddy seemed so much nicer, and I’d lose that if I went back to boyhood, or I might. Then again, maybe they’d stop once they got used to me as a girl? Brian would remain a pain in the bum, whether I was a boy or a girl. He might not hit me quite so much as a girl, but that was unproven.

Then there were other people, what would they think? So far they’ve been nice, or most have. If they knew, would they still be nice to me, especially if I still had a winkie?

Then there was school–that was a total nightmare, and I couldn’t cope with that, not at any price. My mind did flit through the scenario of going to the same school as Gemma and Karen. I’d been accepted as a normal girl there, but once it got out–they’d be just as nasty as the boys.

I came to a rapid conclusion, I needed to leave school, now.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

Thanks to Gabi for editing and suggestions for improvements - naturally I took none of them: so this mess is all my own doing. >^^< !

Totally Insane 10 - Additions

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

TG Elements:

Shopping

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 10–Additions.
by Angharad

“Come on, Darling, get yourself showered and I’ll show you how to do your hair.”

How can my mother be so happy this early in the morning–bum, it’s a Saturday too! This hair business is a pain, why can’t I just keep it in a ponytail like I usually do?

“Come along, Sweetie-pie, hurry up,” Mummy urged me.

“What for? It’s like Saturday.”

“We’re off to see your Nan and Gramps.”

I had completely forgotten about that. “I can’t go like this!” I said pulling at my nightdress.

“Of course not…”

I sighed in relief.

“I thought you could wear your new red dress,” said my mother pulling the offending item out of my wardrobe.

“What? I can’t wear that!” I was nearly in tears.

“Why ever not?” My mother put the dress down and sat on the bed alongside me.

“Because I can’t.”

“But your Nan’s expecting to see her new granddaughter?”

“You, like, told her?” I gasped.

“I had to, Sweetie, especially as you seem to have made up your mind to stay as a girl.”

“But…but…why?”

“We knew they’d be concerned and want to know what was happening to you. They don’t seem at all worried, in fact they’re looking forward to meeting the real you.”

The ride to my grandparents was usually about an hour and a half, usually it was just boring, now it would be nerve-racking. I wish they had warned me. I had totally forgotten about the visit.

“Is Brian coming?” Sometimes he didn’t come with us.

“No, it’s just you and me.”

“Oh, Daddy, isn’t coming either?”

“No he’s taking Brian to a football match–a bit of boy-bonding,” she said and winked at me. “We’ll do some girl-bonding with Nan, instead.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what I thought.

“Come on, sweetheart, we need to get you ready.”

I reluctantly went into the bathroom and under the shower, I stayed in there longer than usual conditioning my hair twice, while I tried to think of how I was going to handle this unforeseen situation.

I love my grandparents, they really are nice people, but they’re like fifty and so old. I mean did boys turn into girls in their day? Wouldn’t they have been burnt at the stake or locked up or something? I’ve heard about how they used to test for witches, when Gramps was a boy. They’d throw them in a pond all tied up, if they drowned they were innocent, gulp! If they floated, they got hanged or burnt! Surely, Gramps, wouldn’t do that to me, unless vicars still have to?

“Kylie, come out of there, you’ll be all wrinkly. I asked you to hurry and you’re dawdling.”

I crept out of the shower and wrapped in a towel, “Sorreee,” I said.

“I did ask you to hurry, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want Gramps to burn me as a witch,” I said bursting into tears.

“What? What are you talking about you, silly goose?

“I heard they burn people who are different.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“In history,”

“They did some awful things hundreds of years ago, Sweetheart, not nowadays. If they did such things, do you think we have taken you to see Dr Schlessinger?”

“No, I suppose not. She was old, but Gramps is much older and it was vicars who burnt people at the stake or drowned them in the pond.”

“Kylie, my father is a very caring man, he wouldn’t hurt a fly let alone his granddaughter.”

“What if he doesn’t like me as a girl and calls me a queer or something?”

“He won’t, he loves you for you, it doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl; he’ll still love you.”

“I hope so,” I dried my eyes on the towel.

“Trust me, please.” My mother threw her arms around me and hugged me. “Now come on, let’s dress to impress,” she said and patted me on the bum as I walked back to my bedroom.

She dried my hair as I sat with the towel still wrapped around my chest. “Right, now try not to destroy it when you put your dress on. Use some lip gloss and mascara, when you finish and have a squirt of this,” she handed me a bottle of Eau de toilette made by some frog called Givenchy or something.

I pulled on my knickers and bra, putting in the pads to give me some shape, then I carefully pulled the red dress over my head. My hair looked okay. I did my makeup and squirted some of the smelly stuff over myself. What with that and my roll on deodorant, I must smell like a florist’s shop.

I pulled the tights on and then my red shoes, the ones with the slightly higher heels. I checked myself in the mirror. I looked okay, if a little apprehensive. On the way out of my bedroom I ran into the troll.

“I’ll pay for the matches,” he said.

“What matches?” I asked.

“When Gramps burns you at the stake, argh, a witch!” he held his two index fingers in the shape of a cross and pretended to be afraid.

I felt my stomach turn over and my fears about meeting my grandparents resurfaced. They grew as I descended the stairs.

“My, but don’t you look nice,” my mother held out her arms to me.“ Your Nan and Gramps are going to be so proud of you.”

“Brian said Gramps would burn me at the stake and that he’d pay for the matches,” I sniffed.

“Did he now, I don’t know what he’ll use for money, because the way he’s heading he won’t have any. I think I’ll phone your Daddy and tell him, and I expect that’ll be the end of his football match.”

“Please don’t.”

“Why not, he deserves it?”

“It’ll just make things worse.”

“Maybe, but he has to learn.”

“It’ll just make him all the more beastly towards me.”

“I’ll strangle that horrible child, so help me!” She stormed out of the kitchen and I heard her shouting at him a few moments later. Then a pause and she returned followed by a sheepish looking Brian. “Go on, or so help me, I’ll call your father.”

He stared at the floor, “I’m sorry I teased you.”

“So you should be, you disgusting object. If I hear one more episode of this, you’ll be in so much hot water, you’ll come out boiled! Do you understand, mister?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Get out of my sight!” she said loudly and he shot back upstairs as if he’d been kicked.

“I hope you didn’t tell Daddy.”

“No I haven’t, yet, but unless you eat some breakfast and get yourself ready for the ride to Nan and Gramps, I will.”

“I’m not very hungry,” I actually felt more like throwing up than pushing food down me.

“Kylie, please just calm down. We are going to have a lovely day and I’ll bet they spoil you rotten.”

I wondered if I could hide any matches I saw in their house.

Half an hour later, and we were getting into the car. I felt quite sick and hoped nothing would come of it. I strapped on the seat belt and tried to think of nice things, like looking after baby Sarah.

Mummy backed the car out of the drive and we were off. She put a talking book on the CD player and we listened to Stephen Fry read a Bertie Wooster story.

I was so engrossed in the story, that I wasn’t paying too much attention to the drive. Suddenly, it stopped and we were turning into the gravel driveway of St Peter’s Vicarage, the home of my grandparents.

“Ooh!” I gasped. Standing in the driveway were my grandparents, Gramps didn’t have his dog collar on, and he had his arm around my Nan. There was no escape.

“Just take a deep breath, it will be all right, okay?” Mummy squeezed my hand and then she got out of the car. She hugged Nan and then Gramps and I heard her say something ending in, “very nervous.” Then she came back to my side of the car. “Come on, Poppet, there’s nothing to worry about, honest.” She took my hand and practically dragged me out of the car.

“Hello, Kylie,” said my Nan and held out her arms.

I felt the tears well up, and ran to her. They were running down my face before she enveloped me in her arms, “You, silly goose, fancy being afraid of your old Nan.”

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed against her breast.

“Hey, Missy, don’t I get a hug, too?” complained my Gramps.

I finally let go of my Nan and went to him, “You look just like your mother, only prettier,” he said and engulfed me in a monster hug.

“Hoy,” said Mummy, “You told me I was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen.”

“That was before I met my granddaughter,” he said and we all laughed.

We went into the house, a big old Victorian pile with enough rooms to house a family of ten. Instead, there were just my grandparents and a curate who lodged with them.

Inside, my Nan had baked some scones and we ate them with jam and cream. They were yummy and I had three; boy, did I feel full after that.

“Where’s Danny?” asked my mother.

“Oh, he’s on a course this week,” answered Gramps, “Something about women bishops.”

“Does he approve?” asked Mummy.

“I don’t think he does, we have endless arguments about it,” said Gramps.

“Would you serve under a woman bishop, then?” continued Mummy.

“If she knew what she was doing and was as pretty as Kylie, I’d have no problem. I’d accept it as God’s will. Sadly, Danny, seems to be unable to see it that way. As you know, this diocese is very progressive, we have a woman dean and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a lady bishop here one day.”

“I think it would be a good thing,” said Nan.

“So, Kylie, how do you fancy being the first lady bishop in this diocese?” asked Gramps.

“I don’t think I want to wear black dresses all the time,” I said nervously.

“That’s alright, the bishop wears purple.”

“Oh, that’s different then, could I have matching shoes and bag?” I said trying to be amusing.

“Spoken like a true female, no wonder we men are always broke!” Gramps said and winked at me. Mummy and Nan just laughed politely.

“So what are you three beauties going to do this afternoon?” asked Gramps, “I have that wedding to do at three.”

“Will you marry me,” I asked my grandfather.

“I think I might be too old for you, and you’re not supposed to marry a close relative.”

I looked confused.

“I’m joking, girl, it’s the best offer I’ve had for a long time, and it is a leap year, but I’m already married to an old dragon.”

“I heard that, you daft old goat,” retorted Nan.

“No, Gramps, I mean if I wanted to get married, would you do the service thing?”

“I’d be mightily offended if you asked anyone else to do it. Why have you got someone in mind?”

I blushed, and said, “’Course not.”

“She has and his name’s Philip,” said Mummy.

“What does your father think of Philip?”

“I think he likes him, as long as he doesn’t kiss me too much.”

“I think he might be quite right there, young lady, you’re a bit on the young side for too much kissing and cuddling. Does this Philip know your little secret?” Nan decided to join the discussion.

I blushed and nodded.

“And he still likes to kiss you?” Gramps looked at Mummy when he was asking me this and out of the corner of my eye I saw her shrug her shoulders. I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

“You just be careful, my girl,” Gramps had quite a serious expression on his face.

“I will, Gramps.”

We left him to play with his choristers or whatever vicars do while they wait for the wedding party, while we went off in our car to the shops. Inside, I knew that the novelty of getting lots of things couldn’t last much longer, my parents didn’t have that much money. My grandparents did, Gramps had his own business before he became a vicar, which he sold for loadsa money, according to my dad. I know he actually owns the vicarage, it isn’t a grace and favour residence, or whatever they call them.

Mummy parked her car in a multi-storey car park near the centre of town. It was nearly mid day, and normally I’d be grumbling about being hungry, but thanks to Nan’s, stick-to-yer-ribs scones, I still felt quite full.

The town doesn’t have a shopping mall, so what we usually do is go down one side of the high street and then back up the other, leaving no shop unturned. Again, usually I’d be bored by half way, today, I didn’t think that would happen.

Okay, I didn’t mind helping Mummy shop for clothes for her, however, stuff for Brian, Daddy or me–I wasn’t too keen on. Boy clothes were boring, jeans and a tee shirt or sweatshirt, if it was cold. Girl’s clothes–now I was beginning to get the hang of it–was good fun.

“I’m really looking forward to shopping with my granddaughter,” Nan said, smiling at me like a cat who’d got the cream.

“She even had Stuart buy her some stuff the other week, so watch out, she’s becoming quite a minx.” My mother said, possibly spoiling my fun.

“Rosemary, you must remember I had you to deal with, so I’m well versed in all the ruses of clothes hungry young women. So unless, she’s found some you didn’t try, I will cope with her.”

The goldfish gape my mother showed made me giggle, which Nan took up as well. Mummy did not look best pleased, although that was a ploy, because she giggled too.

Several of the chain stores have branches here, Next, Monsoon, Top Shop, Dorothy Perkins and we have a Primark as well as Marks and Spencer. Nan thought I needed more shoes. So I got shoes, a pair of black Mary Janes, and pair of boots which were kewl, although in my skinny legs they did ruck down a bit. When I complained about it, the assistant shook her head and said, “They’re supposed to, you wear them with hotpants or a short skirt.”

“Oh my giddy aunt!” exclaimed Nan, “Do you remember those hotpants you had, Rosemary?”

“Yes, Stuart, was rather fond of them.”

“I didn’t know Daddy wore hotpants?” I snorted.

“He didn’t, silly, he rather liked me to wear them.” Mummy gave me one of her looks, as if to say–one weirdo in the family is enough, thank you.

“Oh, I did think it was odd,” I said defensively.

“So is Kylie going to have hotpants or a miniskirt?” asked Nan.

“Yes please,” I said.

“I think you may be a little young for them,” my mother attempted to pour cold water on the idea.

“Gemma has some, and she’s my age,” I pleaded.

“Yes, why not?” said Nan.

“I think she’s too young, besides, she may have the wrong erm…body shape, for tight trousers,” countered my mother.

“Why don’t we go and try some and then we’ll know.” My grandmother was such a sensible woman. I now wanted the hotpants or miniskirt more than anything.

It was actually in New Look, that we found both items and I was sent off to try them on. I struggled into the hotpants and found that they made me very uncomfortable in the–I shouldn’t really have this bit! Whereas the mini was fine as long as I remembered to sit with my knees together. I decided, I’d probably be best wearing it with tights.

Mummy agreed that the hotpants were too tight, and gave me an--I told you so, look. She did reluctantly agree to the mini. Nan nodded approval and whisked it off to the cash desk before I could blink, while Mummy frowned, showing she didn’t really approve.

I was later to find out that Mummy only got her hotpants because her grandmother bought them for her, as her mother, my Nan, disapproved. It seems history goes full circle, or it does in my family.

Mummy bought me some lycra panties, three pairs, which should keep my outie as flat as an innie, making the miniskirt wearable. I popped on a pair as soon as I could, and with Nan’s connivance went back to try the hotpants again. This time they fit although they would never be comfortable enough to do too many bending exercises! This time we bought them.

We had skipped lunch so at the end of the first side of our shopping we stopped in a small café and had a sandwich and a cuppa. “Did you bring any money with you?” asked my mother.

“Erm, a few pounds, why?” I had deliberately left most of it behind even though I was relatively well off.

“Leave the girl alone, Rosemary; I’m sure we have enough between us,” interjected my Nan.

“Mum, she has quite a bit of money herself, I think if she wants these things, she should help to pay for them.”

“Erm, I’m saving it,” I said quietly.

“What for more computer games?" Said my mother quite aggressively.

“No, a boob job and the operation,” I said quite quietly again.

Unfortunately, Nan, was in mid swallow when I said this and she nearly choked herself. When she stopped coughing, she laughed so loudly, that everyone turned around to look at her.

“What’s so funny?” asked my mother, angrily.

“Kylie is, that’s what,” and she roared again.

“I don’t think it’s very funny, at all.” My mother was now in high dudgeon and I began to wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

“It’s what lots of girls my age are saving for, a boob job;” I said this in total innocence. My Nan roared again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kylie, eleven year olds do not want plastic surgery,” said my mother crossly.

“I’m afraid they do,” said a woman on an adjacent table, “my granddaughter is adamant she wants bigger breasts, she’s twelve now, but has been saying it for at least a year. Apparently, teen cosmetic surgery is big business in the States.”

“They carry guns there, and that’s wrong too. This celebrity cult stuff, with their silicone enhanced bodies is materialism gone stark staring mad.”

“I totally agree,” said the woman, “in our day, we had to make do with what nature gave us. Never did me any harm.”

“Nor me,” said Nan, “and Christopher was able to see my inner beauty.”

“Only because you used to wear a corset,” Mummy said and Nan blushed.

“Trust your children to betray your trade secrets,” Nan said, sighing.

~~~

Thanks to Gabi for express editing/improvements. Any mistakes left here are mine or Bonzi's. Yeah, probably Bonzi's, I'm perfect, so I suppose they couldn't really be mine!

Totally Insane 11 -Complications.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

School or College Life

TG Elements:

Shopping

Other Keywords:

grandparents.

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 11–Complications.
by Angharad

For T. Happy Birthday, sweetheart.

“You didn’t wear a corset did you, Nan?” I asked not entirely sure what a corset was.

“Of course”–she gave a little giggle at this–“not, I wore a corselette, like all ladies did then; we attached our stockings to them.”

“Didn’t you wear tights?”

“Later on, they really only took off when miniskirts came in, as they would have shown too much of the stocking top and the suspender. Plus the fact that the stockings stopped the corselette from riding up.”

“What’s a corselette?” I asked not quite sure.

“It’s an undergarment, which features a bra and extends down to your groin: usually they have a bit which goes between your legs, but not always. If they do it fixes with hooks and eyes or poppers.”

I think my eyes must have popped, because Mummy gave me the queerest look. “Why don’t you show her when we go back, Mum?” she said to Nan.

“I think I might still have one, somewhere.” She pretended to search her memory.

“The bottom drawer of your dressing table, Mum, that’s where they always were.” Mummy looked at me, “She forgets, I used to have to help with the laundry.”

“Like you make me do?” I beamed.

The woman on the adjoining table said, “I think all kids should learn a few things around the house especially if they go away to college.”

“Brian doesn’t do very much though, does he?” I asked feeling a bit exploited.

“Brian wouldn’t bother breathing for himself if he could find someone else to do it for him,” responded my mother rolling her eyes, “be grateful, that you are being taught life-skills which will stand you in good stead for later on, young lady.”

“I quite enjoy helping you, it’s more fun when you do chores with someone else.”

“How true,” said my Nan, looking wistful, “yet how sad, they always seem to forget.”

“Who forgets, Nan?”

“Men! Who else?” She looked cross for a moment as if remembering something, then she looked at Mummy and me and started to laugh. We laughed with her, although I wasn’t quite sure what I was laughing at, other than my Nan’s laugh.

I worked back through what had been said, and decided that, men don’t like doing many chores if they can help it. If by some strange phenomenon, Brian ever became one–if only they’d make slug pellets in different colours–a man, I mean, it would seem he’d been practising doing nothing most of his life.

I puzzled some more: Daddy worked quite hard and often had paperwork to do when he was at home, but so did Mummy, marking and so forth; yet it was she who got the dinner and washed up, okay we have a machine for that, but I don’t remember Daddy using it. I tell a lie, he did when she had flu last year, ‘cos he asked me if I knew how to work it? I didn’t but I figured it out when he asked me to sort it, grrrrrrrr! He was treating me like a girl then, in some ways, ‘cos he’d never have asked Brian. I don’t think Brian knows the word kitchen, except in the context of some magical place where meals appear, cooked by fairies. I blushed when I thought of this last word, if I help, he would say it was definitely cooked by fairies, or one in particular!

Daddy does do things to the car. I thought for a moment, no he doesn’t except put petrol in it, it goes to the garage now for everything, and he used to pay me for cleaning the inside. I’d vacuum inside and wipe all the windows and the dashboard. He used to give me a tenner a month for that, I used to do it every week, would take about half an hour. Brian was supposed to cut the grass, except he usually has some excuse for not doing it. I’m not allowed to use the petrol mower, so that’s one job he can’t shove on to me.

Brian is quite good at computer games and he watches loads of telly, but apart from that, and chasing girls, he doesn’t do much, oh he goes to the gym. We have a gym club in school, which you can join when you’re twelve or older. I don’t fancy it, I mean, I don’t like, want to get fat, but who needs muscles that bulge. In Brian’s case, I’m sure his head is full of muscle rather than brains.

“Have you thought of doing ballet?” my Nan said to someone, maybe my mother, I was zoned out thinking my own thoughts.

“Kylie! Your Nan is talking to you!” my mother said sharply.

“Oh, sorry, Nan, I was miles away,” I blushed.

“Are you going to do ballet, like your Mummy did, and so did I. They still talk about my entrechat.”

For some strange reason, Mummy started to giggle and said while still giggling, ” Does my entrechat look big in these?”

I started to laugh too, mainly because Mummy nearly fell off her seat, she was laughing too much, but Nanny was going rather red and glowering. I thought discretion was the better part of valour, and asked Nanny where the toilets were.

Going to the ladies was still a voyage of discovery for me. My heart was still perched somewhere close to my throat as I opened the door, and I half expected someone to challenge me one of these days. Maybe I look better or more convincing than I think.

The loo at this café was very basic, a single little room, I think they could quite reasonably describe as a cubicle, of which, half the space was full of boxes of baked beans or cooking oil–oh, and one of toilet rolls. The hot water was cold, and the liquid soap had run out, and the paper towels were those horrible green ones–like drying your hands on cardboard. We have them in school, or we did until some of the year nine boys stuffed them down the toilets and blocked them all. We were all sent home for the day and the towels disappeared from then on.

There was a big sign which said, ‘PUT PAPER TOWELS IN THE BIN NOT DOWN THE TOILET! LAST YEAR IT COST US A THOUSAND POUNDS FOR DRAIN CLEARANCE, AND YOU A TEN PER CENT INCREASE IN THE COST OF YOUR MEAL.’ Perhaps some of year nine had been here?

I wandered back to the dining area and Mummy and Nan were in deep conversation, Nan spotted me and signalled to Mummy that I was on my way back, so they must have been talking about me. I’m not really surprised, I am a bit of nine-day wonder. Mummy looked guilty and smiled falsely at me.

“All right, poppet?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m like, okay.”

“More shops, Kylie, or have you had enough?” asked Nan. I wondered if this was some sort of test on my girliness, so although I had had enough, I said to carry on.

Actually, what I said was, “No, I haven’t had enough, shopping is great fun, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, real fun!” groaned my mother, “You wait till you have to do it for your children!”

“I won’t have any, Mummy, remember?” I said and felt my eyes well up.

She put her arm around me, “I forgot, Sweetheart, sorry.” Once out in the street and less likely to be overheard, she said, “Kylie, I am sorry, but you seem like such an ordinary girl, I forget you’re special.”

“That’s okay,” I said sniffing.

Nan took my hand and squeezed it, “You could always adopt, so you might have children yet.”

“I might,” I sighed.

“Never mind, Kiddo, you can help look after Baby Sarah next week.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that.” I felt so much better.

“Who’s Baby Sarah?” asked Nan.

“The woman who lives across the road from us–Mrs Johnson–it’s her baby. Kylie loves her, don’t you?”

I nodded.

“It’s not half term yet is it?” asked my Nan.

“No, but we’re still sorting out her schooling arrangements,” Mummy shrugged.

“If it had been half term, Kylie could have come and stayed with us,” offered Nan, “Would you like that?”

“Oh yeah!” I said with enthusiasm. “Can I use your computer?”

“I should think so, if Gramps isn’t using it, he writes his sermons on it.”

We came to the Mothercare shop and I asked if we could go inside. My mother looked puzzled. “I want to get something for Baby Sarah,” I said leading them in.

“What are you looking for?” asked Nan.

“I want to buy her something, a present.”

“You mean a toy?” Mummy asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” what are those?” I pointed at some white pad things.

“They’re pads to put in a nursing bra.” My mother smiled at my confused look.

“You mean nurses have special bras?”

“No, sweetheart, when you breastfeed a baby you drip a bit and those pads absorb the drips and oozes.”

“Drips?” My mind was boggling. I knew of breast feeding in theory, at least I knew that women had breasts to feed babies. But the mechanics of how they plugged them in, had never quite been explained.

Nanny came up with a book, “Look Kylie, this is how it’s done.” The book explained all about babies and their care. The pictures showed all these cut away sections of boobs and things, and how the milk forms in the glands and is secreted through the nipple. I had never thought about it before, maybe Mrs Johnson will allow me to watch her, which is probably as close as I shall get to doing it myself. I felt sad again then.

“Would you like this book, Kylie?” asked my Nan.

“No it’s alright, thank you. I mean it’s not as if I shall ever need it, is it?”

“You never know what will happen by the time you grow up, young lady. What we see as miracles now, they’ll probably be doing every day.”

“That would be some miracle, Nan.”

“I don’t know so much, I remember reading about some bloke, in the States I think, who took special hormones and things to breastfeed his child.”

My mother looked horrified, but I thought it was wonderful. “Okay, Nan, I’ll have the book, if that’s okay?”

She smiled and went to pay for it. While she did that, Mummy and I looked at some teething rattles, made of rubbery stuff in bright colours. They rattled when you shook them, and babies could teethe on them. I knew what teething was–getting teeth. Then I wondered where they came from, ‘cos the gums are in the way, so the teeth have to come through the gums–yeuch. No wonder they cry, that would bloody hurt. I suddenly had this surreal image of teeth pushing out all over my body and itching and hurting, then popping forth–gross.

I was just at the bit where the teeth were causing my boobs to grow and were poking out of my very red and sore nipples, when Nan shoved the book in my hand and I jumped, dropping the teething ring I was holding.

“Goodness, Kylie, you are jumpy.”

“Sorry, Nan, I didn’t see you coming.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if all this is a good idea,” said Mummy, “ever since you started it, you’ve become rather absent minded. Maybe we should stop it?”

“No!” I said much too loudly, and people turned to look at me. My mother glared.

“Sorry, Mummy, I mean I don’t want to stop at the moment and I need to see Dr Schlessinger again next week.” I only apologised to stop her carrying out her threat, which I neutralised by imagining my nipples growing and these teeth growing out the end and biting her. I blushed when I thought how weird it was, but was that what they meant by ‘milk teeth?’

“Do you want that for Baby Sarah?” asked Nan, “Give it to me and I’ll get it.”

“No, Mum, she’s got some money of her own, let her pay for it herself.” The protest meant I had to extract my purse from my little bag and spend some of my ill-gotten gains. As I did so, I wondered if I would get a chance to earn some as easily as before with the baby sitting.

Back out in the street, and some four pounds worse off, we moseyed up and through the other shops. Nan bought me a new skirt in a small children’s boutique, and not to be out done, Mummy gave me the top I was admiring to go with it. I decided I would wear it to see my shrink, next time. I also wanted to take her a present, but didn’t know what–maybe a pot plant. I’ll talk to Mummy or Mrs Johnson about it.

This girl business seems to be growing on me. I thought about my outburst in the street, about babies and my never having one–was it all getting too much. I mean a week or two ago, I was a boy–or thought I was; now I’m a girl–or think I am; or am I? The truth is, I don’t know anymore.

I know that Mummy and Daddy are supportive, and while Mummy likes the idea of having a daughter, I don’t know if that is just liking the idea rather than the reality. It’s one thing to think about or fantasise, but another to walk the talk. Nanny and Gramps are supportive too, which is lovely–but I know, if I changed my mind tomorrow, they’d just shrug their shoulders and welcome me back as their grandson, probably with a sigh of relief.

I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. Dr Shrink-slinger seems to think I’m gender variant or whatever, so she would probably expect me go with it. As for saving my money for plastic surgery, I wasn’t joking at the same time, I wasn’t being entirely truthful because it depended upon if I was still being a girl. I mean, if I go back to being a boy, I won’t need boobs, will I? But if I stay as a girl, I won’t need a winkie. Still, once I caught it in my zipper, and it hurt rather a lot!

So does plastic surgery hurt? I’ll bet it does, imagine having someone chopping at your eyelids–yeuch! Yet people do it to improve their looks, or so they think.

We were looking in the window of a shop as these thoughts were going through my mind. Mummy and Nan were looking at the things displayed there, I was looking at myself. How girlish was I?

In the improvised mirror, obviously in a skirt, I looked like a girl, but as I leaned closer to the glass, I examined my face and hair and other bits. My jaw was narrow and my nose was small and slightly upturned, my ears are small–well they would be as they roughly measure the same as a line from your eyes to the end of your nose. My eyes are quite big for a boy, and green, quite bright green and my reddish hair means I have loads of freckles. My hair is long and thick and my hands and feet are reasonably small. I look like a girl. Perhaps I really am a girl? Dr Slushfinger thinks I am, or one inside a boy’s body.

I hadn’t noticed that the olds were chatting and speaking to me. “Kylie, I do wish you’d stop going off in a daydream.”

“Sorry, Mummy.” I can’t seem to do anything right.

“Nanny asked if you thought that dress was beautiful? The cream one.” She pointed and I followed her finger to the back of the window, where a cream wedding dress was displayed. It was indeed beautiful and I agreed.

“Would you like one like that when you marry, Philip, is it?”

I blushed furiously, “Nanneee!”I replied indignantly, “I’m not going to marry anyone for a long time, possibly never.”

She winked at me, “Okay, darling, your secret is safe with me, just don’t tell Philip he will have a long wait.”

“We’re just friends.” My blushing and protests would probably have got me hanged years ago, especially at Elsinore, where Hamlet suggested, ‘the lady doth protest too much.’ How do I know? We did it in school recently, not the play but the quotation.

Our teacher, Mr Robinson, told us briefly the plot of the play, which is scary–I mean, they have ghosts and things, and they’re murdering each other or planning to do it. If that’s politics, I don’t think I’ll bother voting when I’m older, they all seem pretty rotten–like the ‘State of Denmark.’

“What do you think of that one?” Mummy pointed at a lacy one in the middle of the window.

It was beautiful too. “It’s nice, it’s okay.”

“So which one would you choose?” She threw this at me and once more I felt my right to be considered a daughter was being challenged.

I stepped back from the window. There were five gowns on display. They were all lovely so how could I choose? “I’d need to try them on before I could say that,” I said my hands perched on my hips.

Mummy gave me a sideways look and Nanny nearly fell off the pavement laughing. “She’s got you there, my girl,” she said looking at my mother.

“I do like the one at the back with the muff thingy,” I said. It was a satin affair with some fur or feathers decorating it and also the muff.

“Where would you carry your posy?” My mother was not going to give up.

“Oh, I’d have a page boy carry it behind me on a silk cushion,” I said dismissively, then giggled as I had a sudden vision of the troll Brian in satin knickerbockers!

“Should I tell your father to start saving now, sounds like you’re going to want a wedding with all the trimmings. That dress is three thousand pounds, to start with.”

My stomach flipped, three thousand pounds–that’s like more money than I’ve ever owned. “Maybe we could look in Oxfam, they might be cheaper there.”

“Cheaper still if you live in sin,” my mother muttered away to herself.

“I heard that, Rosemary, and you of all people should know better. Besides, Kylie, wants her Gramps to tie the knot for her.”

I caught sight of Mummy blushing as she steered us back towards the car.

Nanny provided us with a quick tea of sandwiches and cakes and we said our goodbyes to my doting grandparents.

“Don’t forget, Kylie, if you want to come up at half term, we’d love to have you, wouldn’t we, Gramps?”

Gramps gave me a huge hug and said, “Of course dear,” then to me, “Take care, darling, I think you’re a very brave young lady but do be careful, at times it’s a dangerous place, this world of ours.” He slipped something in my hand–a twenty pound note. “Buy yourself something nice.”

I hugged him back and kissed him on the cheek, “Thanks, Gramps, I do love you.”

“I love you too, young lady.”

Then I gave a monster hug to my Nan. She reciprocated by squeezing me and whispering, “It’s nice having a granddaughter, but I loved you as a grandson too.”

“I know, Nan,” I said back. “Thanks for all my lovely things.”

“You’re welcome, darling girl.” She kissed me on the cheek, and stroked my hair. “Such a pretty child,” she said almost absently, “much too pretty for a boy.”

“Come on, Missy, let’s go before you talk Gramps into buying that dress.”

“What dress was that?” he asked.

“Only the dearest in the shop.” My mother seemed intent on embarrassing me.

“What shop?”

”The Bridal Shop.

His jaw dropped as he goldfished.

“Well you did ask which one I liked.” I blushed as I spoke and saw she blushed too.

“Ask a silly question,” she muttered, “Come on, let’s see how the boys got on at their football match.” She hugged and kissed them both and we got in the car and drove off.

The boot was full of things for me, plus Gramps had given me a bunch of flowers picked from his own garden.

“Gramps gave me some money,” I said to my mother as we drove homewards.

“That was nice of him, how much?”

“Twenty pounds.”

“Gosh, that’s quite a lot, Kylie.”

“I wondered if I should share it with Brian?”

“That would be very kind of you, but he wouldn’t with you, so why not put it in your bank account?”

“I feel guilty, I’ve had so much this past week or so.”

Mummy put her hand on my knee, “You have done well, young lady, but Brian hasn’t done too badly either. Don’t feel guilty, we’ve enjoyed spoiling you, and at least you are always grateful for anything you get.”

“What did Brian get, then?”

“The football match was a Premier Division one, Manchester United and somebody. The tickets cost a small fortune. I don’t see how anyone can afford to go regularly to such things.”

“I don’t know why they’d want to go in the first place, I think I had the nicer day; thank you, Mummy.”

She glanced at me and smiled, “I’m glad you enjoyed it, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for more rapid improvements and head hitting.

Totally Insane 12 -Redemption

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Contests:

Summer Romance 2008

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 12–Redemption.
by Angharad

The next day was Sunday, a last one with my parents before they went back to work and I went to Mrs Johnson and baby Sarah. Then the day after that, I had to go back to see Dr Shrinklinger and get my head examined some more.

Brian was still in bed–surprise, surprise–while Mummy and I did the laundry and then started the Sunday lunch. A while ago I’d have thought it odd to enjoy doing chores, but doing them with someone else was different, it was almost fun and I was learning stuff, too.

Daddy was up to his armpits in paperwork, so appreciated the coffee I took him. “You’re really into this little wifie stuff, aren’t you?”

I blushed and mumbled, so he asked me to repeat what I’d said. “I thought you might like a cup of coffee, and I like doing things with Mummy.”

He looked me up and down, and I wondered if the jeans and tee shirt were inappropriate in some way. “I did fancy a cup of coffee, so you must have read my mind. Your mother seems able to do it at times: I’ll have to be careful.” He smiled at me, “I’m looking at you in trousers and I can’t for the life of me, see my son in there any more. I’m beginning to wonder if he ever did exist.”

This made me feel very sad, and I could see some sadness in my father’s eyes, so I went to him and hugged him very tightly. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

I felt his strong arms around me and he put his head alongside mine. “Never apologise for being you, just be the best you, you can.” He hugged me and I felt my eyes fill with tears and within moments I was sobbing.

“It’s okay, Kylie, it’s a bit sad for all of us, we’ve all lost someone, even you. It will take a while for us all to adjust to the new situation, but I think your mother and I have lost a farthing and found a sovereign.”

“What does that mean?” I sniffed.

“Back about fifty years ago the coinage was all different, they had pounds, shillings and pence. There were twelve pennies to a shilling and twenty shillings to a pound. A penny was worth four farthings, a little coin with a wren on the back of it. A sovereign was originally worth a pound, but they were made of gold, so even fifty years ago, they would be worth much more than a pound. So lose a farthing and gain a sovereign, means, we have gained a great deal more than we lost.”

“Does that mean you didn’t think much of me as a boy?”

“Not at all, it means we love you even more as you are, because you seem so much more at peace and so much more alive, than you did as a boy. It seems so natural, whereas, Kyle always seemed unfulfilled. When your mother told me about finding you dressed as a girl, she said, ‘I know this is a bit of a surprise, but he seems so at ease as a girl, maybe this is how he was meant to be?’ I’m beginning to think, she was right.”

“So Kyle was a farthing and I’m a sovereign?”

“No, that isn’t what I meant. What I meant was that the bits of you we’ve lost, were relatively small compared to the things you seem to have found in terms of fulfilment and happiness. Those appear to be pure gold.”

“Did Dr Shrinkfinger tell you to say that?”

“Ouch, such cynicism in one so young!”

“What does that mean?”

“You don’t trust me.”

“But I do Daddy, I love you.”

“So why can’t I say things as I see them.”

“You can.”

“No one has told me to say or do anything, other than to remember I love you as my child, irrespective of being a boy or girl. I’m just saying what I feel I am seeing, and that is Kylie is happier than I think Kyle was. Am I right?”

I nodded, still clasped to his torso, and still making his shirt wet with my tears.

“Hey, come on, girl, you’ll shrink my shirt and get your make up all over your pretty face.”

“I’m not wearing any,” I sniffed back at him.

“So, what happened to that big bag of stuff Lorraine gave you from the shop?”

“It’s upstairs, I play with it when I’m in the mood, it’s good fun.”

“I’ll take your word for it, now, Sweetheart, I have to get on with this paperwork or I’ll be here all day and all night.”

I nodded again, hugged him and he kissed me on the cheek. I left him to it, shutting the door of his study/office as I left. Mummy saw me as I left. “Why are you crying, Darling? Did Daddy say something nasty to you?”

I could feel her bristling, I shook my head, “No he only said nice things to me?”

“So why are you crying?”

“I don’t know.” I turned and fled up to my room and threw myself on the bed.

I heard the study door open and shut and muffled raised voices floated up the stairs to my room. I hated it when my parents quarrelled, which was a relatively rare event, but did happen.

A little while later my mother came up to my room and tapped gently on the door as she came in. “I’ve spoken with Daddy, and he told me what you spoke about. He said you burst into tears for no reason, is that right?”

Without moving from my prostrate position, I nodded. I felt her come and sit on the edge of the bed. “Look, Darling, it’s going to take some little while to adjust to your new life, so I expect you will feel tired and upset now and again. We all love you to bits, and will do all we can to help. You know that, don’t you?”

“Except Brian,” I sniffed from the pillow.

“Even Brian, he’s going through a difficult time himself. It isn’t easy to be a teenager, you know.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” I snorted.

“Come on, tidy yourself up and help me finish getting the dinner.”

I lay there for another five minutes before I went to the bathroom and washed my face and hands. My eyes were red and puffy and I didn’t want o make them worse, so I left off the make up. I felt quite tired and my enthusiasm for things domestic had paled somewhat. Mummy, however, took my wavering efficiency in her stride and encouraged me as always.

The phone rang twice, so I assumed Daddy had taken it in the study. Most of the calls are for him or Brian, and as it isn’t midday yet, everyone knows that Brian is still comatose.

“Kylie, it’s Philip for you,” my father called from the study, “Do you want to take it in the hall?” I tore out of the kitchen and picked up the phone, only to realise I still had a tea towel in my hand.

“Hello?” I cooed down the hand-piece.

“Hi Kylie, it’s me.”

“Hi me,” I said back.

“Wanna go out somewhere this afters.”

“I’ll have to ask, hang on.” I put the phone down carefully and ran back into the kitchen.

“Philip’s asked if I can go out this afters?”

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno, didn’t ask.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

“I can’t, can I?” I’d read the book Nanny had given me, and there ‘getting a girl in trouble’ meant pregnancy.

“Not that sort of trouble, you silly goose. However, you’re still quite young.”

“Philip will take care of me.”

“That’s partly what I’m worried about, sweetie-pie.”

I looked as confused as I felt.

“Never mind, if you promise me to take care of yourself and do nothing more than hold hands, and keep in public places, you can go after lunch.”

“Aw, thanks, Mummy.” I hugged her and ran back to the phone.

“Hi,” I piped down the phone.

“What have you been doing, negotiating a treaty?”

“Yeah, almost. Since I’ve been a girl, they get very protective.”

“Yeah, okay. Do they want a flight plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, can you come out or not?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh goodie, see you about half two.”

“Yeah, see you.”

“Bye beautiful,” he hung up.

My day had just improved, and I went back to drying the dishes with a much lighter step, which my mother noticed and teased me about, but in good fun.

Brian, the dormouse–well they sleep half their lives–emerged as the food was being put on the table. We’d hardly spoken since the day before, when he’d insulted me at breakfast. He didn’t speak at all at lunch.

“Can I be excused?” I asked taking my plate to the sink.

“Yes you can be excused, but whether you may be excused is another matter,” said Mummy. Can’t she ever forget she’s a teacher?

“So, can I, I mean, may I be excused?" Preferably before I go off the idea.

“Yes, what are you going to wear?”

“Can’t I go like this?” I indicated the jeans and tee shirt.

“Not after you’ve been working in them all morning, go and change. What about your red skirt and top, with the red tights and black shoes?”

“Yeah, okay.” I hadn’t thought it was that important, but it seemed it was to her. But wearing a skirt to hang about somewhere, it was a bit much. I went off and washed my face and hands and put my hair into a better ponytail, higher on my head. I popped on some eyeliner and mascara and some lip gloss.

Then I changed my clothes, putting on my red jeans with my black slouch boots and a black top, which would go reasonably well with my fleece jacket. I had a quick squirt of smellies in strategic places and grabbed my bag.

Two minutes later, the doorbell rang and when I opened it I was met by Philip’s smiling face.

“Kylie,” called my mother’s voice from the dining room.

“Hang on, I’ll be back in a mo,” I left him at the door and went to see what she wanted.

“Oh, you’re wearing those?”

I felt like saying, ‘looks like it’ but that would have created consequences. Instead, I said, “Yes, it’s more serviceable.”

“Okay, behave yourselves and be back by six.”

“Yes, Mummy,” I said and left before she had a chance to say anything else.

I grabbed my jacket and rushed out to Philip, closing the door behind me. “You look great,” he said, “don’t I get a kiss?”

“Not here, if they see us, they’ll call me back in.” I shoved my hand in his, which he gently squeezed.

“Okay, where do you want to go?”

“Don’t care, as long as we don’t bump into Brian or anyone else we know.”

“Is Brian up already?” he asked smirking.

“Yeah, only just, but he’ll be out later on, he always is. He’s full of himself, Daddy took him to the football yesterday.”

“What game?”

“Chelsea and Man United, I think, doesn’t mean much to me.”

“Wow. That musta cost an arm an’ a leg. Kewl or what?”

“Kewl? Stupid football? you’re joking? I’d rather watch paint dry.” I wasn’t much of a sports fan, if you hadn’t guessed.

“Well, it’s gotta like be better than watching some mushie chick flick.”

“I’d rather watch the film.”

“Yeah, that figures, don’t you like any sport?”

“I like playing badminton, especially with you.” We’d now walked about a hundred yards and he stopped and kissed me. I didn’t do anything to prevent him, and my hungry mouth chased his tongue as he withdrew it.

I brushed his mouth with my fingers, which he attempted to bite. “Hey, stop it, I’m wiping the lip gloss off your mouth,” I said chastising him.

“I’ll lick it off, yummy, strawberry.”

I stood with my arms folded and pouted. He poked his tongue at me, so I did the same. Then we both laughed, held hands again and walked. We walked for ages, heading towards the town centre, stopping every now and again to kiss or to stare in a shop window. We passed the chemist’s shop my father had taken me to, where Lorraine had given me all the make-up. I told Philip about it.

“Oh yeah, I forgot your dad was a pharmacist. Maybe he could get you pills to make your boobs grow.”

“What hormones?”

“Yep, you know like birth control pills, they’re hormones.”

“Yeah, I know.” I didn’t until I read it in the book last night.

“So can he get them?”

“I doubt it, you have to see a doctor.”

“What, he can’t get a few for you to try?”

I shook my head vigorously. “No, they have to be prescribed by a doctor and she told me they don’t give them until I’m at least sixteen.”

“What? You can’t grow boobs until you’re sixteen, that’s like so unfair.”

“I know, but I can’t do anything about it. Dr Shrinkfinger, said, she might consider putting me on androgen blockers, to stop my male hormones making me more masculine.”

“Whoopee doo! It’s like, hardly the same, is it? They aren’t gonna like give you boobs, are they?”

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“No, I suppose not.”

We walked on for the next few minutes. The atmosphere felt as flat as my chest. “What about the net?” said Philip excitedly.

“What net?”

“You dumb chick, the internet. You can get them from there, all you need is a credit card.”

“I don’t have one of those either.”

“Aw, shoot!”

“I’ve got a bank card.”

“Oh wow! Maybe that would do?”

“I’ll have a look next time I’m on the net.” It had opened a door in my mind. The consequences could be wonderful, to have my own boobs–and terrible, what would my father do if he found out? He’d be furious and I doubted Mummy would be too enthusiastic either. Then I thought of Brian, he couldn’t care one way or another. I wondered if I could buy different coloured slug pellets on the internet?

We walked on closer to town; we’d been out nearly two hours, and we were still holding hands and stealing occasional kisses. The shops all close at four on a Sunday, so the number of people about was fairly small, which made me feel safer.

Off the main street is a small shopping precinct, with Marks and Spencers and few other big shops, we headed down there. As we did so I noticed a group of kids hanging around outside a gaming arcade. I felt myself stiffen, this could get nasty.

“Shall we go back, now?” I said to Philip.

“Okay, if you want.”

We turned around and started to walk away from the precinct when we were face to face with some rather large boys and a girl from our school. “Well lookie here, it’s our girly boy and his poofie friend.”

My tummy flipped. I had never felt so scared in all my life, even sitting in the girl’s school was a joy compared to this.

“Look, Burden, we don’t want any trouble, okay?” Philip was trying to talk his way out of it.

“Oh, so you accusing me of being a trouble maker, Gonnersal?”

“No, I wasn’t accusing you of anything, all right?”

“I think he was, Burden, I think you need to teach him and the faggot a lesson.”

“Please,” I said, “let us go, we’re not causing you any harm.”

“Oh, it squeaks,” Burden said in a high pitched mockery of me. He was twice my size, possibly even bigger than Brian, and even nastier if his reputation was correct.

We tried to go around them, and they moved sideways to block us. There were no adults around to call for help, and my mobile was in my bag. This could get very dangerous, very quickly.

“Please let us go?” I felt tears running down my face.

“Aw, look boys, we’re frightening it.”

“Leave her alone,” said Philip, sharply. I squeezed his hand to try and stop him from being drawn into violence, which was what the others wanted.

“Her? He called him, a her, that’s another boy, pooffie, or you wouldn’t be interested, frigging queer.”

“She is a girl, she’s been to see experts, she is a girl, all right?” Philip was trying to reason with them. It was wasting his breath.

“This, is a boy,” said Burden, poking me in the chest. “No expert could change that, unless they cut its dick off. Hey, I’ve got an idea, maybe we can help. Grunter, you got your knife?”

At this, I began to tremble, “No, don’t you touch me,” I shrieked and they all laughed. The group from the arcade were no advancing on us as well. I could see them in the periphery of my vision.

“What’s going on, Burden?” called a male voice.

“We’re gonna give Pansy Potter here, a sex change.” He pushed me in the chest again and I nearly fell. Someone yanked Philip away from me and I felt terrified. I was sobbing and gibbering.

I caught sight of someone running hard towards us. “Let her go,” was yelled.

“Piss off!” replied Burden. The next moment, the runner exploded into the group and Burden was lying on the floor his nose bleeding, another flurry and a second yob was lying down coughing and spitting out teeth.

“Gonnersall, get her out of here, NOW!” The voice was Brian’s, he dropped another yob and the rest stepped back. “Anyone else wanna try it? Burden moved and Brian kicked him in the groin. The injured youth rolled about in agony. “Who’s next for the ambulance?”

One of Burden’s friends went to attack Brian from behind and Philip spotted him and kicked him in the knee. He yelled, Brian turned and his elbow caught the boy in the mouth.

“Let this be a warning,” said Brian, his voice full of venom, “Any of you touch my sister, and they’re dead meat. Got it?”

There were mumbles amongst the group, which began to disperse, the fun was over. “Come on, let’s get home,” he said and escorted Philip and me back home.

As we walked, I began to calm down although I was still crying. Brian put his arm around me, “It’s okay now, Sis.”

“Thanks, Brian,” said Philip.

“S’alright mate, just don’t take her down there again after the shops shut.”

“I won’t don’t worry.”

“What are we gonna tell Mum and Dad?”

“Why tell ‘em anything?”

“Well, your hand is bleeding.”

He looked down at it, “Bugger. Sodding Grunter must have caught me with his teeth.”

“What if they go to the police?” I asked.

“Yeah so, it was self-defence.” Brian smiled, “well, defence of my little sister.

“I thought you didn’t like me doing this?” I said.

“Maybe I don’t like it, but I’m not gonna like stand around while some tit beats you up, am I?”

“Thank you.”

“S’okay.”

~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for more express improvements and head hitting.

Totally Insane 13 - Exception.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 13– Exception.
by Angharad

Brian accompanied us back home, whereupon, Philip kissed me good bye and went to his own home. Brian stood and watched, shaking his head in disapproval.

“He’s not gay is he?” Brian asked me about Philip.

“No, why did you think he was?”

“He was kissing you.”

“So? He sees me as a girl.”

“Better imagination than me,” he said and leant back as I tried to slap him.

Mrs Johnson was getting into her car, she waved to us. “What time tomorrow, Kylie?”

It suddenly occurred to me what she was asking about. It was Monday tomorrow and I was going to help her, or she was baby sitting me, I wasn’t sure which. “Erm, what time is convenient for you?”

“About nine?”

“That’s fine with me,” I called back.

“See you then,” she started the car and drove off waving as she went.

“You jammy bugger,” commented Brian, ”I have to go to school and you get to play with one of the hottest babes in the road.”

“What Baby Sarah?”

“What? What are you talking about, that bit of pure delight, driving the car.”

“What? You fancy Mrs Johnson? Eewww, Gross.” I screwed up my face in mock disgust.

“At least she’s the opposite sex,” he fired back at me.

“So is Philip, and so are you, you big lummock. But you’re still my big brother.”

“Looks like we’re stuck with each other, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. When did you tear your jeans?”

“Oh shit!” he looked down, “Mum’ll kill me.”

“Come on in, I’ll see if I can sew them, it looks like a seam has split.”

“I didn’t know you could sew?” he looked astonished.

“We did it last year, I was better at it than woodwork.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“One of the things we did was repairs.”

“In which case, little sister, you can fulfil your role by fixing them.” I followed him into the house. We managed to avoid my mother, or Brian did, I chatted to her while he sneaked up stairs.

“Was that Brian who came in with you?”

“Erm, yeah, we met down the road.”

“And you were civil with each other?” She looked faintly bemused.

“Yeah, I know, he’s unstable.”

“He’s what?” she said looking incredulous.

“One minute he likes me, the next he doesn’t. Oh well fifty per cent of the time is better than not at all.”

“Kylie, a few hours ago you were exhorting your father to have him sentenced to life imprisonment.”

“I thought it was a girl’s prerogative to change her mind?”

She shook her head, “Sure it isn’t you that’s unstable?”

I affected a twitch and began blinking rapidly, “Nah, I’m okay, master.”

“You might be quite correct there, Missy; have I helped to create Frankenstein’s monster?”

I clomped up the stairs with a ‘monster style’ walk, at least until she was out of sight, then I galloped the rest.

“Where have you been?” asked Brian holding out his jeans.

“I had to get past the Gestapo.”

“Well ‘urry up, I like, need these this evening.”

“Why are boys always in such a hurry?” I sighed.

He glowered and riposted, “Why are girls always so bloody slow?” My reply was to stick out my tongue and duck when he made a half hearted attempt to swat me.

While Mummy was in the kitchen I grabbed the sewing basket and dashed upstairs again. In half an hour I’d pinned and sewn his trousers. I was tempted to leave the pins in, but as he had saved my bacon, I relented. He didn’t even say thanks when I gave them back to him, but that was okay–he wouldn’t turn into a human being overnight, would he?

I returned the sewing basket to its place and went to see Mummy in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” I asked as she was busy at some sort of culinary thing.

“Making fresh parsley sauce, why?”

“I just wondered, that’s all.”

“Oh, I just wondered what you were doing with my sewing basket?”

I glowed bright red, a bit like the warning light on the oven. “Erm, I needed to sew something.”

“Oh, I thought maybe you were gardening.”

“Ha ha, yes, very good, Mummy.” I think I overdid the hilarity.

“Well?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Kylie Mosse, I will ask you this once and you will tell me the truth immediately; what were you sewing?”

“Brian split his pants.”

“And he asked you to sew them for him?”

“I, like, sort of volunteered.”

“Why?”

I was now on the verge of tears, “Do I have to tell you?”

She stopped making her sauce and motioned me to sit at the table. “I think you’d better had, don’t you?” I nodded, how could she do this to me? Was I getting so weak willed?

“We ran into some bigger kids in town.”

“And?”

“They gave me some hassle, calling me names and things. One of them threatened me with a knife…”

“He did what?”

“I don’t know how serious he was, but he said he was going to cut something off and make me a proper girl.”

“What’s this got to do with Brian?”

“He saw it and rescued Philip an’ me.”

“He rescued you?”

“He knocked the boy who had the knife down, and another who tried to attack us.”

“Let me get this straight, Brian got into a fight in order to save you from a boy with a knife?”

“Yes?”

“Please go and get him.”

“Mummy, please don’t be cross with him, he did what he thought was right.”

“Go and get him and then go to your room. I’ll deal with you later.”

I slunk up the stairs, “Mummy wants you.”

“What for?”

“She knows about the fight.”

“Shit! You didn’t tell her did you, you stupid cow?”

“I tried not to.”

“Geez, bloody girls,” he pushed past me and I went into my room and sat on the bed and cried. The last thing I wanted to do was get him into trouble, it was exactly what had happened.

“Why did Kylie have to mend your trousers?” I heard my mother say loudly.

“I tore a seam.”

“How did you tear it?”

“Dunno, probably just badly sewn.”

“She tells me that you got involved in a fight.”

“It was on a bit of a misunderstanding, some kids were ganging up on her and I told them to stop it.”

“You just told them to stop?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Why are your knuckles grazed?”

He looked down at his hands, “Erm, I dunno.”

“I think I can guess. Kylie said one of the boys had a knife, is that so?”

“I don’t remember, he mighta done.”

“Which is why you got involved?”

He shrugged, “Maybe, like, I don’t remember.”

“Thank you for protecting her, but please, no more fighting.”

“Is that it?” he asked.

“I’ll discuss with your father, but should any of the other children’s parents complain, at least I know what they’re talking about. Go on, clear off, but no more fisticuffs.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Brian, I mean it. Oh send Kylie down, will you?”

I snuck back into my room. “She wants you, watch out for the thumb-screws.” He shook his hand in mock pain.

“Yes, Mummy?”

“I want you to ask Philip to come over.”

“What, now?”

“Just that, or I could ring his mother myself?”

“No, I’ll get him.” I almost ran to the phone. It took me some persuading to get him to come. In the end, I told him that I would be in trouble if he didn’t. About a quarter of an hour later he arrived.

“Philip, I hear there was a bit of trouble in town this afternoon?”

“Erm, yeah, a bit.” He looked even more guilty than I did.

“So what happened?”

“A couple of big kids thought it would be fun to hassle us, or Kylie.”

“They did what exactly?”

“They pushed us around and called us names, then one of them got a knife and threatened to cut of Kylie’s, erm–you know what.”

“He had a knife?”

“Yeah, he had a knife.”

“What happened then?”

“Brian came busting into them and decked about three of them.”

“Let me get this straight, Brian, single-handed, knocked down three other boys, including the one with the knife?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“I see, what happened next?”

“He challenged them all and they walked away, then he walked us home.”

“So he didn’t start it, they were already pushing you around and drew a knife?”

“Yeah, they started it, but he finished it.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“Dunno their names, but they were big kids from our school.”

“Could you identify them if necessary?”

“Yeah, from the lack of teeth and broken noses,” he smirked and I tittered nervously. My mother gave me one of her stares and my laughter was replaced by a blush.

“He damaged their teeth and broke someone’s nose?” Mummy sounded horrified.

“Dunno, but there was plenty of blood.”

“Neither of you were hurt?”

“No, Mrs Mosse, but we coulda bin, if Brian hadn’t rescued us.”

“Okay, thank you, Philip. Kylie, why don’t you make some drinks and take some of the cakes we made the other day and go into the dining room.”

I nodded and got two cans of cola from the fridge and the cake tin. “You’ll need some plates, my girl.” I gave the tin to Philip and picked up the two tea plates Mummy was holding out to me.

“Did you make these?” Philip held open the tin.

“Yeah, with Mummy’s help, why?”

“Are they like, edible?”

“No, I poisoned them so boys can’t eat them.” I then picked one out peeled down the paper and started to eat it. Philip hesitated then took one and tasted it.

“Hmm, maybe this having a girlfriend thing, has potential?”

We had boiled ham with parsley sauce for dinner after which Brian went out. Mummy gave me Jane Eyre to read, saying all girls should read it. So I went off and left her to talk to Daddy, I think I knew the topic of their conversation.

I didn’t much like the book, preferring something more modern, like Twice Upon A Time where a boy goes back in time to World War Two, and turns into a girl on the way. Maybe, I could be a governess to Baby Sarah?

“Kylie, I’m a bit worried about these thugs that attacked you. Do you know who they were?”

“No, Daddy, I don’t.”

“Philip seemed to think they were from your senior school, is that right?”

“I don’t know, Daddy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I might have a word with the Head tomorrow. Don’t forget the clinic on Tuesday.”

“Clinic?”

“Get with it girl, how many clinics do you go to?”

“Erm, Dr Shrinkwinkie?”

“I thought it was Schlessinger,” he said laughing at my comment.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

He shook his head. And you behave with Mrs Johnson, tomorrow, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy, I will.”

He nodded and left me.

I did some more battle with Charlotte Bronte before we called it a draw and I fell asleep. If being a girl meant reading this stuff, I wasn’t sure I’d pass the test, but I would take it to the clinic with me.

I was in bed when Brian came home, I heard some raised voices downstairs but decided I’d stay out of things. Brian came up a few minutes later. “You awake?”

“Yes, what do you want?”

“Hee hee, Dad’s given me back some of my lost allowance for saving your skin.”

“What was all the shouting about, then?”

“He felt he had an obligation to give me a bollocking, ‘cos I was in a fight.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, course. Talk to you tomorrow, fairy face.”

“Goodnight to you, troll features,” I called at the empty doorway.

That night, I woke several times seeing the boy with the knife and feeling a sharp pain in my groin: each time I woke, I had to run for a wee, as I was in danger of wetting the bed. In the next dream, I not only felt the slash of the knife but also the warmth as my blood flowed. I awoke in a sweat, felt the warmth and wet and realised, this time I had wet myself.

I went and got a spare towel and shoved it in the bed, I would wash my bedding tomorrow and hope Mummy didn’t notice. Unfortunately, when she came to wake me up to get ready for Mrs Johnson, she saw the towel and asked why it was there. She seemed to understand and told me to put strip my bed and put the washing in the machine, once I was dressed, then hopefully, I could get it out on the line to dry.

I wore my embroidered jeans and top with my denim jacket to go round to Mrs Johnson. I could see the washing blowing on the line and felt quite pleased with my efforts. I rang her doorbell and waited.

I was just entering her house when a police car drew up outside my house. “What’s going on?” said Mrs Johnson, “go on in, I’ll speak to the police.” She hurried out of the house to speak with them.

She returned several minutes later, “They want Brian for something, I told them to call your father’s mobile number, because your mother will be teaching now.”

“Oh dear,” I said, feeling the butterflies circling around like king condors in my stomach.

“What’s the matter, Kylie?”

“I think I know what it might be about.”

“Oh what’s that, come and tell me while I get the washing on.”

I followed her into her utility room and told her about yesterday and Brian’s dramatic rescue of both Philip and me. She was horrified, especially when the word knife was mentioned.

“Goodness, Kylie, it seems not a weekend passes without some stupid teenager stabbing another. Tell me, why do they carry knives, you don’t do you?”

“No, I have one in my lock picking kit, but that’s all.”

“That’s a very unusual hobby for a young lady, how did you get into that?”

“Mummy used to have a set of locking drawers in her dressing table, when I was a kid, I used to try and open them, imagining all sorts of things they might contain. When I did manage to open them and discovered they were full of her better jewellery; I had the fiddle of locking them again. I found that I could open and shut them when I wanted. Then one day I wondered how the lock worked and took it apart.”

“Could you put it back together again?”

“Erm,” I blushed, “not quite. Daddy was very cross, it wasn’t a cheap dressing table. Between us we did manage to repair the lock, he showed me how it worked and from then on I was hooked. I try to take them apart to see how they work and then it’s easier to pick them.

“What about these modern doors, are they difficult?”

“You saw how long it took the other night.”

“Of course, you’re quite the little expert, aren’t you?”

I blushed and shrugged my shoulders.

“Right, that’s the washing on, let’s have a cuppa and then we can bathe bossy boots. Have you ever bathed a baby before?”

I shook my head, I hadn’t.

“Okay, it’s good fun as long as you have the bath somewhere safe and you don’t have the water too warm, then keep a careful hold of your baby and everyone enjoys it.”

I was looking forward to this; it sounded like real fun.

~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for more head hitting and various other violent suggestions.

Totally Insane 14 - Reflections

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 14–Reflections.
by Angharad

Mrs Johnson finished her tea and I followed her into the kitchen with my dirty cup. She rinsed them both out and popped them in the washer. “Right, young lady,” she said drying her hands, “let’s go and bath the baby.”

Baby Sarah was lying in her carrycot playing with her toes and gurgling. I could hear her laughing as we entered the room. “Hello, little Missy,” her mother said, and the baby’s face lit up in recognition and began squealing with delight, begging to be picked up. Mrs Johnson showed me how to pick up a baby, supporting the head. “Look who’s come to see you, Sarah, it’s Kylie.” The little baby gurgled at me and I made silly noises back. She giggled and I made silly faces and noises. She wasn’t sure about that for a moment, then began to laugh.

Mrs Johnson asked me to hold Sarah, while she got the bath ready. It was plastic one in yellow, and she placed it on the draining board in the kitchen. She covered the kitchen table with a towel and put the changing mat on it, then she filled the bath and checked the temperature of the water with her elbow–“Old fashioned, but it works,” she observed.

She pointed at the table, “If you’d like to pop her on the changing mat and undress her, then pass her to me, I’ll show you how to bath her.”

I laid her gently on the mat on the table, I was so nervous. I gently undid her babygro and extricated her arms and legs–she was wriggling like an eel–and didn’t help my nervousness. I pulled off her vest and plastic pants, then the smelly bit–the nappy. It was yellow and stank off pee. When I undid the pin securing it, she had pooed as well–this yucky, sort of yellow brown toffee-like stuff. What did I do now? I looked helplessly at Mrs Johnson for guidance.

“Okay, Kylie, scoop as much as you can of the mess in the liner and wipe her bottom clean with a wet-wipe.” The pack of ‘thick baby wipes’ was lying on the table. The idea of how one could decide which babies were thick and which weren’t baffled me. “Wipe away from her front to the back, like you would yourself to avoid infection in your bladder or vagina.” She had obviously forgotten my slight inadequacies in that area or chose to ignore them. Perhaps she was simply giving me advice for later on, or just going with the flow, helping me to become a girl.

I did the clean up job and popped the rubbish in a bag for disposal, the dirty nappy in a bucket of soapy stuff to soak for an hour or two, and then carefully lifted Sarah and carried her across to her mother. It was a good job I had the pinny on, because as soon as I picked her up, she peed all over me. To add to the insult, she gurgled as she did it.

“Whoa,” said Mrs Johnson, grabbing a strip of kitchen roll, wiped me dry. “Sorry about that, I forgot to warn you, as soon as she sees her bath she gets excited and tends to wee herself.”

“That’s okay,” I said hoping it hadn’t got on to my jeans. I handed Sarah carefully to her mother, who showed me how gently lower her into the water and then wash her, including her hair, which was still quite thin.

“Here, you do it,” Mrs Johnson indicated for me to come and finish bathing Sarah. I gently placed my hand under her head and supported her, then carefully wiped her with a soft sponge of soapy water. As I did so she giggled, kicked her legs and splashed water all over me. I laughed too, there wasn’t anything else to do, and it was better than being weed over.

Under her instruction, I lifted Sarah out of the water with some apprehension; she was even more eel-like, slightly slippery from the soapy stuff. Then I handed her to Mrs J who was waiting with the towel in her hand. Back to the changing mat, she was carefully dried and then massaged with ‘baby softening oil’. I’d always thought babies were pretty soft already, but what do I know?

Once we’d creamed her bum and cleft in front with some baby cream, Mrs Johnson, handed me the nappy and liner and watched while I put them on. She nodded and smiled as I remembered how we’d done it the other night. Then I dressed her in a pair of plastic pants, a vest, a little dress and tights, then a cardigan thing, which her mum called a matinee jacket.

“If you lay her in the pram, we’ll take her out soon as I’ve got some shopping I need to do.” I wasn’t sure about that bit, but I could hardly protest could I? Besides, I was enjoying playing with this life-sized dolly.

Mrs Johnson checked herself in the mirror and after putting on her jacket and collecting her bag, placed them by the pram. She then put a hat on Sarah and after wrapping her up in a quilt thing, put the cover on the pram.

“Aren’t you going to check your hair and makeup, young lady?”

“Erm, yes of course,” I got my bag and pulled out my little mirror, my hair was fine but my lip gloss was messed where I’d been drinking tea and eating biscuits. I put some fresh on, and picked up my bag and my jacket.

“Are you wearing your pinny out?”

I gasped and looked down at myself, I’d had it on for so long I forgot I was wearing it. “Erm, no, erm.” I blushed as I took it off and pulled my jacket on.

She smiled at me, “At least you haven’t still got your slippers on.”

I actually looked down to check, and shook my head, “No, I don’t have my slippers on.”

“So are you going to push the pram?” She asked me.

“Oooh pleeeease,” I said enthusiastically and took hold of the handles. It was a Silver Cross, if that means anything. It looked very well made, one of the new sort, with double wheels on swivelly things, so you can manoeuvre them almost anywhere.

As we walked down our road I began to relax. This was good fun–no wonder girls wanted prams and dolls. I suppose at twelve–well nearly twelve, I was too old for dolls–besides, this real baby stuff was so much better than a lump of plastic was likely to be. I felt so grown up.

The local supermarket is about half a mile away and as we were out for a stroll, I was quite enjoying the walk, my shoes clip clopping along, making much more noise than my boy shoes used to.

“When do you have to see your doctor again?”

“My doctor? I don’t have to see my doctor.”

“My mistake, I meant the doctor at the special clinic.”

“Oh, Dr Shrinkwinkie., you mean?”

“That’s not his name is it?”

“Oops no, it’s a lady and she’s Dr Schless-something or other. I call her Dr Andrea. She’s nice but she’s so old.”

“Is she, like how old, Kylie?”

“I’m not sure but she must be thirty.”

“Thirty, that’s old is it?” Mrs Johnson was chuckling.

“Yes it is, isn’t it?”

“Do you think I’m old, Kylie?”

“No, I think you’re lovely, Mrs Johnson.”

“Well, I’m twenty seven.”

“That’s like, loads younger than thirty.”

“Thirty isn’t old, young lady. You’ll be there in no time. You’ll remember this conversation and laugh.”

“Laugh at what, Mrs Johnson?”

“How much your attitude to age has changed amongst other things.”

“Do you think I’ll be a real girl by then?”

“I think you’re a real girl now. Being a girl isn’t about having a cleft between your legs, Kylie, it’s how you view the world and perhaps more importantly, how you see yourself. Do you see yourself as a girl?”

“Yes, Mrs Johnson, “I do.”

“Well then, that makes you a girl in my book.” She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. A few minutes later we entered the supermarket and Sarah was asleep.

We got the things Mrs J required and set off home. My phone peeped in my bag. “Hadn’t you better answer that?”

“It’s probably Philip.”

“You don’t know that, so hadn’t you better check?”

I stopped the pram and after taking off my bag, withdrew my mobile, it was still ringing. Sarah moved slightly, but stayed asleep. “Hello Daddy,” I said after I saw his name come up.

“Hello, girl, get yourself together, I shall pick you up in ten minutes. I’ll explain in the car.” He rang off, leaving me feeling confused.

“What was that about? You look confused.”

“It was Daddy, he’s coming to pick me up in ten minutes.”

“Something unexpected has cropped up by the sound of it, maybe to do with the police car earlier. Come on we’d better hurry.” We walked quickly back to the house and my father arrived a few minutes afterwards.

“Sorry to mess you about, Emma, but the police want to speak to Kylie.”

“Fine, just drop her back when you’re ready. I hope it’s not serious.”

“No, some kid’s complained, or their parents did. They got into a fracas with Brian, who apparently flattened three or four of them. They were assaulting Kylie, so he just defended his sister, like he should.”

“Quite. Bye, Stuart, see you later, Kylie.”

I waved goodbye and Daddy drove off. “The police are acting like idiots over this business. They say they want to speak to you about it, even though I explained and so did Brian. I’m afraid they’re going to ask you loads of stupid questions.”

“Me?” I felt my stomach churn, now all the police are going to know about me and within a few minutes I expect they’ll tell all their families and then their kids will know and all these people will be able to laugh at me. I felt my feet getting decidedly cold. “Do I have to?”

Daddy looked at me in an expression I can only describe as disbelief. “What? Brian is only in this mess because of you. If you can’t stand by him as he stood by you, then I am ashamed of you.”

His logic was flawed, I was in this mess because of the small mindedness of some teenagers. Brian was in it because he chose to be so, I didn’t ask him, mainly because I didn’t know he was there. I might have done, had I known. I was certainly glad he was there.

However, family loyalty is not a question of logic–Brian is my brother, he needs my help, it should be given without question. My eyes still began to fill with tears as I said, “I’ll help him, Daddy, but I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be with you.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” My voice sounded weak and watery, my tears were salty and watery, and my legs felt very wobbly and watery as we got out of the car. Daddy, held my hand and we went into the police station. I’d never been in one before, and I hope I won’t again.

It was a ginormous place, a bit like a hospital or school. We went into reception and Daddy asked for someone by name. I was busy looking at the locking systems: electronic punch systems, plus CCTV–neat.

A middle-aged man, with greying hair and three stripes on his shoulder thingies, smiled at me. I held onto my father’s hand as if they were trying to take me away from him. “Hello, darlin’,” he said and smiled again. I noticed a colleague called him back and whispered in his ear, he looked at me again and said, “You’re jokin’!”

A moment later a woman emerged from one of the doors off the reception area, “Mr Mosse, if you could follow me.” She held the door open and Daddy walked through, pulling me in his wake. We were led down a corridor and into a room marked ‘Interview 4.’

“So this is Kylie?” said the woman.

“Yes, this is my daughter, Kylie.” Daddy held on to my hand.

“Hello, Kylie, I’m PC Joanne Armstrong.

I nodded to her and maintained my grip on my father, almost trying to climb into his clothes with him.

“I need to ask you some questions, is that alright?”

I nodded again. Daddy nudged me and said, “Speak up, girl.”

“Yes,” I said, feeling very nervous.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me what happened on Sunday afternoon?”

“Erm, I can’t remember.” I blushed with embarrassment.

“What happened before you got to the shopping area?”

“Nothing, why?” I felt a tear roll down my cheek.

She shook her head, “Look, Kylie, as far as I’m aware you haven’t done anything wrong, so there is no need to be afraid. I’m aware of your gender difficulty, and it’s okay with me. Personally, I can’t think why every boy doesn’t want to be a girl, it’s kewl compared to being a boy, isn’t it?”

I nodded and we chatted for a while, eventually she dragged the details of the incident out of me. “So the boy who was harassing you drew a knife?”

“Yes, he said he was going to cut my willie off.”

“And that was when your brother, Brian, got involved?”

“Yes. I didn’t know he was there.”

“And he knocked down this boy and another one who tried to attack him from behind?”

“I think there were three or four of them, but none of them wanted to try it on with Brian.”

“He actually challenged them, then?”

“Sort of, it was his way of making them go away. Then he walked us home.”

“So it all dispersed and he escorted you and–Philip, you said–home?”

“Yes, an’ I had to sew his jeans ‘cos he’d split them.”

“Just like a good little sister?”

I shrugged and blushed.

“But there was definitely a knife?”

“Yes.”

“And it was drawn by one of the group of boys before Brian got involved?”

“Oh yes, Joanne. The boy was threatening to give me a sex-change with it.”

“Okay, thank you, Kylie. Your father tells me you see Dr Schlessinger at the clinic?”

“Yes, she’s nice.”

“If I need to, would you mind if I spoke to her about you?”

“No.”

“Hang on a minute,” said my dad, “why would you need to speak to her? Kylie is an injured party, assaulted by these grubby little sods, why is she being brought into question? Are you trying to suggest we made her dress up like this?”

“No, Mr Mosse, I am not. Okay, let me put my cards on the table; the boy your son hit was Richard Burden.”

“Yes, so?”

“His father is a chief inspector.”

“Ah,” said Daddy, “is that a problem?”

“He reckons his son has witnesses to say that Brian produced the knife and tried to stab them.”

“No, it was his friend–he called him ‘Grunter’–who had the knife.”

“Grunter is John Hogg, his father’s on the force too.”

“So what happens now?”

“It’s going to be your word against theirs. There are more of them.”

“But they’re lying.”

“That’s what they say about your side of it.”

“This is ridiculous, this is tantamount to abuse of power.” My father was getting on his hobbyhorse.

“I can’t comment on that, Mr Mosse. However, what would normally be something we would just speak to the parents about, could end up in court.”

“This is ridiculous, those little swine deserve to be in court for their assault on my daughter.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Mr Mosse, however, I thought you should know what you’re up against. It’s also why I may need to speak with your daughter’s doctor.”

“I see.”

“Can I bring charges against the other boys?”

“In theory, but it has more chance of going to court.”

“Hmm. I need to talk with someone.” My father squeezed my hand, “Is that it?”

“For the moment. Thank you for attending Mr Mosse, I know what a pain it is, and thank you too, Kylie. I think you’re a very brave young lady.”

“It is a pain,” said my dad, “but it needs to be sorted. Once my kids are cleared, I’m going to sue their arses off.”

PC Armstrong, said nothing but smiled broadly. I got the impression she didn’t like her colleagues.

“Who are you going to see, Daddy?” I asked as we drove back to Mrs Johnson’s.

“Our solicitor to start, and depending upon his advice, another person I know a bit.”

“Who’s that, Daddy?”

“A golfing chum of mine, Peter Holiday.”

“Is he a lawyer?”

“No, he’s the Chief Constable.”

“How d’you know him?” I asked.

“We were at uni together, he did psychology. Never thought he’d end up as a copper. We were on the university golf team.”

“They have golf teams in university?”

“Our one did, and we both ended up moving into this area, where I met your mother and the rest is history. He actually asked me to get him in the local golf club, he was just a lowly copper then although they were fast tracking him, he went off as an inspector–to London I think–then came back as assistant chief constable about five years ago; now he’s chief constable. Maybe he can sort this out?”

“I hope so, Daddy, Brian did nothing wrong, he was protecting me.”

“Yes I know, sweetie, it’s the bully-boys trying to escape their just deserts. They’re often cowards.”

“Two of them were bigger than Brian, too.”

“He’s as strong as an ox, wiry, so it doesn’t show. He’s also done some training in martial arts, although he gave it up because he wasn’t committed enough to it. Too much like hard work.”

“Maybe I should take it up, then they wouldn’t bother me.”

“I don’t know, Kylie, I’m afraid your path is likely to be strewn with obstacles until people become more understanding, because with that will come sympathy or even empathy. Once they understand gender is not something we choose–it chooses us–they might see things more sympathetically. Until then, just be the best girl you can and we’ll do all we can to help you.”

“Okay, Daddy, I’ll be the best girl I can.”

“Good girl,” he said and patted my knee.

My mobile beeped meaning there was a text. I opened it and read the message. Can u play bdmntn 2nite? I need prtnr 4 mxd dubs. Luv P.”

“Daddy, please may I play badminton tonight? Philip needs a partner.”

“What sort of partner?”

“A doubles partner.”

“Doubles or mixed doubles?”

“Oh I see, mixed.”

“If your mother says it’s okay. I though for a moment you were going to change back to a boy.”

“What to play badminton? Nah, I’m a better girl player.”

“I’m not sure I understand that remark, but I’ll take your word for it. Right, here’s Mrs Johnson’s, be on your best behaviour and remind her you have to go to the clinic tomorrow afternoon. I shall be able to take you, but I suspect your mother will want to come as well.”

I opened the car door and made to get out.

“Hey, haven’t you forgotten something?” I checked my bag, I had everything. I looked puzzled at him. “Don’t I get a kiss, then? I’ll bet Philip would.”

“Oh, yes Sorry, Daddy.” I pecked him on the cheek, and he drove off back to work. I went and rang Mrs Johnson’s bell.

“Ah, you’re back. How did it go?” I told her and she was disgusted at the way these boys and their parents were telling such lies about both Brian and me. I kept quiet about Daddy knowing the Chief Constable. I thought it might be something not to mention to too many people, it had to be our secret weapon.

We had lunch, although I wasn’t very hungry and I watched as Mrs Johnson breast-fed Sarah. “I wish I could do that?”

“Maybe you will one day, Kylie, I think they can cause male breasts to lactate with the right hormones, after all, they are the same as female ones if they grow with female hormones, aren’t they?”

“I don’t know, Mrs Johnson, but I wish I could get some hormones and start growing boobs.”

“It’ll all happen in time, I’m sure. They have to make certain it’s what you really want. Because children can change their minds, they delay things. I read some stuff on the internet the other night. I suppose I wanted to know more about my favourite baby sitter. But all these things just put icing on the cake, Kylie, it’s what you feel inside is what counts.”

“I’m a girl, at least I think I am.”

“Well, you have time to think a bit more, so don’t hurry. It’s best to make sure, or as sure as you can.”

“Yes, I know. Why do we have to make such big decisions?”

“I’m afraid that’s life, young lady. But think, if they gave you female hormones to change your body, and then you decided it was all a big mistake–and it does happen–people have gone all the way to surgery and regretted it, they might not be able to restore function to certain bits. You might then regret it.”

“I don’t know Mrs Johnson. A few weeks ago, I thought I was a boy–not a very good one, but I thought I knew. Then, the girls helped me dress up to try and recover something of Brian’s, and Mummy thought I had chosen to dress like a girl. I hadn’t, but somehow I didn’t want to rush to take them off. They were so comfy. She thought I wanted to be a girl and it was easier to do what she wanted. Then I began to like it, it was like natural to me. I wasn’t pretending, it was me, the real me. Daddy seemed to think I made a better girl than a boy.”

“Don’t let others influence you too much, Kylie. If it’s what you want it’s fine. If it isn’t, promise me you’ll tell someone, even if it’s only me. There is nothing wrong with you occasionally pretending to be a girl, but don’t do it if it doesn’t feel right to you.”

“I won’t, Mrs Johnson, I promise.”

“Kylie, would you like to call me Auntie Emma?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you Mrs John…oops, Auntie Emma.”

“I always wanted a niece, now I have one.” She smiled warmly at me and I smiled back.

~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi, for editing and improvements, any errors left are mine.

Feel free to comment, vote or buy me a drink. 8)

Totally Insane 15 - Deflections.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 15–Deflections.
by Angharad

The rest of the day went very well. I helped Auntie Emma, with a bit of housework and she showed me how to do my hair a couple of different ways. I had never realised just how many different ways there were of doing hair. Mind you, Brian is like David Beckham, he’s always changing his hairstyle, currently it looks like an explosion in a glue factory. He gets his gel through Daddy’s shop, which is just as well, he uses a pot a week. Mummy makes him sleep with a cloth on his pillow, ‘cos it makes his pillows all gooey.

I did some homework as well, it was alright I suppose. I don’t particularly like maths, I can do arithmetic, but geometry seems to confuse me–maybe I need another angle on it? Hee hee, actually, I’m quite good at it, Pythagor-wotsit, and his square hippopotamus. Those ancient Greeks were a weird bunch–I mean, their names to start with–Euripedes–(I remember that one from the knock knock joke, you rip-a-dees pants an’you buy me a new pair). Euclid–what sort of name is that? Just imagine walking into a room and saying, “You Clid?” and him shaking his head. Alexander–now that’s a great name–hee hee. Philip, that’s a good name too, I rather like Philip–erm, I guess you already know that. What about, Anaximander? Sounds like some sort of lizard.

“Kylie, have you finished your homework?”

“Yes Auntie Em-ma,” I blushed. She’d only just told me her name and I’m shortening it.

“How about some tea and piece of cake?”

“Yummy,” was all I said. It was home made cake, a fruit cake–like me. She told me the next time she made one, she’d show me how. This was like, so much fun, beats school, any day.

Soon it was time for me to go home, and I thanked her for looking after me. We had a little hug and she kissed me on the cheek. “You’re a lovely kid, Kylie, don’t change will you?”

I felt perplexed by this, “But I want to change, I want to be a girl, permanently.”

“I didn’t mean that, Kylie. I meant, don’t stop being an honest and decent kid. In my book, you’re already a girl. Enjoy your badminton game.” She smiled at me and I blushed. I’d told her about Philip, maybe I talk too much, they say girls do.

I went back to the empty house and let myself in. It was four o’clock and I began to do some vegetables for dinner. By the time Mummy came home at five–she gave me a hug and a kiss–we never used to do that, I had the potatoes ready to boil and the carrots and cabbage all ready, too. We had a chicken, which she popped in the oven. She showed me how to wash it and sprinkle some special seasoning on it, and she also shoved an onion–a peeled one, up inside it. “Next time, you can do this,” she smiled at me. She had thanked me for doing the veg, calling me, ‘her little angel’. It made me feel appreciated.

“I asked Daddy if I could play badminton tonight. He said, I could.”

“What time?”

“I didn’t ask him.”

“Don’t you think it might be a good idea?”

“Erm, yes.” I dashed off to the phone and called Philip. Two minutes later, I dashed back. “He’s collecting me at half six.”

“You might have to make do with a sandwich, Kylie, this chicken will only just be done by then. I wish you’d said earlier, we could have had something else.”

“A sandwich is fine, Mummy, I don’t want too much before I play or I’ll be very heavy.”

“Okay, sweetheart, what would you like?”

I ended up with an egg sandwich. Mummy showed me how to hard boil an egg and then drop it in cold water or it burns your fingers. Once it’s cool, you gently bash it and pick off the shell–clever eh! Then you mash it all up with some mayonnaise and a little salt and pepper and spread it on your bread. Scrumptious. I had some cress with mine, even more scrummy.

I had changed into my badminton kit, Gemma’s old tennis skirt and the frilly panties. As I put them on, I felt rather guilty about the chicken in the oven, they might be related. I checked my hair and my lippie and went to wait for Philip.

We walked hand in hand to his mother’s car and she smiled, I think she smiled, maybe it was wind, like Baby Sarah. “Hello Kyle–ee,” she said as I got into the car.

“Good evening, Mrs Gonnersall,” I said politely back.

“How’s being a girl, been today?” she asked. I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me or interested.

I played it straight, “It was lovely, Mrs G, I helped bathe and change Baby Sarah with Mrs Johnson, and she showed me how to do my hair a different way.”

“Very nice, I’m sure. What’s this Philip told me about a fight involving your Brian?”

I blushed and felt very hot. “On Sunday, some bigger boys got funny with me and Philip. They called me names and threatened to beat us up. One of them had a knife. Brian, stopped it.”

“Philip told me he thrashed the three of them, is that right?”

“Erm, sort of.”

“Stupid boys, no wonder you’re jumping ship.”

I had to think about that last remark, but it seemed one way of putting what I was doing. “Two of them’s dads are in the police force.”

“Oops,” said Mrs Gonnersall, “that could be trouble.”

“Daddy had to take me to the cop-shop, this morning. He said he’s gonna sue them for assault.”

“The police?” gasped Philip.

“No, you sausage, the boys.”

“Oh, yeah, why not?”

“Philip, sweetheart, I don’t think it’s quite that easy,” said his mum, “ you have to have witnesses and so on, otherwise it’s your word against theirs.”

“I’ll be a witness,” he volunteered.

“I’m not sure you’d want to be. Courts are not nice places, they have people called barristers–although I can think of a similar sounding word which is far more appropriate–who’ll skin you alive. They’re very clever people who can twist everything you say to mean the exact opposite.”

I suddenly felt very afraid of the court, unless it was a badminton one. Talking of which, we were dropped off outside and Mummy was coming at nine to collect us. We walked into the leisure centre holding hands and chattering.

“Are we playing in a match tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a league one”, he walked up to the notice board and swore.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“We’re playing Grunter and his girlfriend, that’s what.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, I’m not. Hang on, this is under thirteens, he must have a younger brother.”

“I think he has, and he’s over there.” I pointed across the centre, a smaller version of the pig who’d attacked me, had just entered with a girl in a tracksuit. “Erm, is this a good idea? I mean like if he knows, then we’re gonna get a load of like, grief,” I asked Philip.

“If he doesn’t know, we’ll be alright. Maybe I should call you something else, your name isn’t up on the card. How about Kate?”

“If you leave the ‘e’ off my surname, it would be different, wouldn’t it, and you could say it was a spelling mistake.”

“Do you spell Moss, with an ‘e’ then?”

“Yes, course I do.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’ll put you in as Miss K. Moss.”

“Isn’t Kate Moss a supermodel?” I asked, knowing full well she was.

“I dunno, I’ll bet you’re prettier anyway.” He said and squeezed my hand and I blushed again. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out something which he shoved in mine. “I got these for you.”

I looked at the strip of foil, “What are these?”

“Hormones, you said you wanted some.”

“Where did you get them?” I said, hiding them in my hand although I was blushing enough to catch fire.

“My mum, she won’t miss them, she forgets to take them half the time.”

“You’ll get into trouble if she finds out.”

“Nah, she’ll think she lost them, she’s always doing it.”

“I dunno, I mean that’s like, stealing.”

“Do you want boobs or not?”

“Course I do.”

“Stick them in your bag then.” I did, feeling as if everyone was watching me. I really did want to take them, but I was afraid. My parents would kill me if they found out. Daddy would go absolutely ballistic, he’s always on about old ladies sharing prescription drugs, and how dangerous it is.”

“Philip, you and your partner are on,” said a man who pointed to the far court.

“Ready?” Philip said smiling at me.

“I s’pose.”

“Remember, this time it’s personal,” he said in a funny voice and I nearly wet myself I felt so tense.

The other grunter, didn’t recognise me. We had a knock around for five minutes and then swapped ends for the start of the game. I played like someone with no arms, I was absolutely useless.

“What’s the matter Ky-ate? You’re playing like a spastic,” Philip glared at me.

“I dunno, just not with it tonight.”

“C’mon, focus, just hit the bloody thing back over the net, I’ll do the rest.”

“Okay, okay.” I felt worse now, I was losing us the match.

“Just relax, okay, take some deep breaths.” I did as I was told. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. I felt myself calm down a bit. “Right, now remember how you played the other night?” I nodded back, my eyes still closed, “See yourself playing like that, knocking everything back, drop shots an’ all.” I nodded again. “Okay, keep that in mind and just play like that again.”

“I wish,” I replied.

“Yeah, just do it. This isn’t Kyle, it’s Kylie–remember she can play better than him.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Come on,” called Grunter, “what’s taking so friggin’ long?”

“We’re ready,” Phillip called back, adding just for my ears, ‘pig face’. I giggled and felt some of the tension leave me.

In the second game, they relaxed a little too much and as my game improved, we won. It was now the decider. Philip was easily as good as Grunter, and I suspect, on my game, I was as good as his partner, a reasonably pleasant girl called Maisie, a dark eyed blonde, with roots as dark as her eyes. At least my hair colour was natural.

They served and we beat them, I saved her drop shot, flipping it back just over the net, Grunter had to dash in and scoop it higher over the net and Philip pounced with a smash that would have killed anyone stood in front of it. I gasped at the speed of it, the other two just didn’t see it at all.

They tried harder, but we concentrated on Maisie, who began to get a little pressured and made mistakes. Grunter started making unhelpful comments to her and she snapped back at him. At this point we knew we could win it, Philip winked at me and I kept popping little shots over the net until he was forced to come in for them too, then I lobbed to the far court. He had to dash back and his resultant return, Philip smashed again, it landed just inside the back line.

We won by five points, they fell completely apart after the last smash, and we shook hands and left as quickly as possible afterwards. I felt uncomfortable being in the same room as one of my attacker’s brothers. I think Maisie may have felt similar, she stormed off and left him behind.

We met in the ladies. I had just been to the loo and was about to wash my hands. “Hi, well done, you played well.”

“Yeah, when Philip reminded me I was allowed to hit it back.”

“Yeah,” she laughed and went into a cubicle.

I washed my hands quickly and left. Philip was waiting outside for me, “Your mum’s here, so gi’s a quick kiss.” How could I resist? We had a quick tongue wrestle and ran out to Mummy’s car.

“Hello, Sweetheart, Philip–good game.”

“Yeah, drive off quick, Mummy.”

“Okay, my darling.” She turned the ignition and we left straight away. A little way down the road, she stopped and said, “What was all that about, you haven’t robbed a bank have you?”

“No, Mummy, but you’ll never guess who we just played.”

“The Olympic champions?”

“No, Grunter’s baby brother.”

“Who is Grunter?”

“One of the boys Brian hit.”

“Oh, did they recognise you?”

“No, we got away with that.”

“I hope so, we’ll doubtless hear if you didn’t.”

“Are you okay, Philip?” she asked.

“Me, yeah, I’m like, great, thanks Mrs Mosse.”

“Fancy some chippies on the way home?” asked Mummy.

“Oh what? Yesssssssss.” I said, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm.

“What about you, Philip?”

“Yes please, Mrs Mosse.”

“Okay, next stop Alf’s chip shop.”

We sat in the car, munching chips. The polystyrene trays looked like a massacre had taken place as we both ladled tomato sauce over the fried potato pieces. After we’d finished, the rubbish was taken back inside for the shop to dispose of, and we drove home with the windows open to get rid of the smell.

I gave Philip a peck on the cheek as we dropped him off, and Mummy beeped as we drove away, I waved frantically to him and he did the same back. In some ways he was my best friend as well as my boyfriend, if girls of eleven have boyfriends.

When we got back there was a big discussion about how I’d made myself vulnerable. I protested that I didn’t know who we were playing, neither did Philip until we got there. Eventually, it died down and Brian, who amazingly was in that night, told me that Gemma had phoned.

I excused myself and called her back, taking the cordless phone up to my bedroom. “Hi Gem, it’s Kylie.”

“Oh hi, Kylie, how ya’doin’?”

“I’m like, okay, just got back from badminton.”

“Did you wear my old things again?”

“Yep, including the chicken bum knickers.” She laughed back to me and it was a couple of minutes before we could talk properly.

“It’s my birthday next Friday, and Mum says I can have some friends around for a party and a sleep-over, wanna come?”

“Oh wow! Erm, I’d love to but is it a good idea?”

“Course, none of them know you either way, so why not?”

“I’ll have to ask my mum, but yes, I’d love to. Can I call you back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, course. I hope you can come.”

“You might have to help me a bit, I mean what do you wear?”

“Anything, just bring a nightie and a toothbrush.”

“What will we sleep on?”

“We have some camping thingies, you blow them up. Oh, bring a sleeping bag if you have one?”

“I have, somewhere, I think. Can we get together before and you can tell me if my stuff is okay?”

“If you like, I’ll pop over tomorrow night, then you can save a phone call.”

“Is that okay? I mean, it’s like, putting you to a load of trouble.”

“No it isn’t, besides I get to see what my girl friend has in her wardrobe. You’ve seen mine.”

“Yeah, an’ mine is a bit smaller, like a lot smaller.”

“That’s okay, I’ve like, been buying a bit longer than you.”

“Yeah, I suppose you have. Does your mum know about me, I mean like, the before I became Kylie?”

“No way, if she did, she’d have done your operation for you the next morning.” We both laughed nervously at that. “She’s always thought you were a girl, and of course when Brian was friends with Karen, and Mum referred to you as his little sister, he encouraged it. So she assumed you were a girl, let’s face it, you never really were much of a boy, were you? Karen and I always talked about you as a girl and called you Kylie. We almost sorta forgot you weren’t, and now we’ve been proved right, and you’re invited to my party.”

“Yeah, thanks. Erm, what time tomorrow, only we have to go to the clinic again tomorrow afters. I dunno what time we’ll be home.”

“I’ll have to have dinner and do my homework, how about seven thirty?”

“That sounds great, with you here, Mummy will find it difficult to say no.”

“She’d better not, I’ve got you top of the list.”

“What do we like, do?”

“We watch a film, usually a chick flick, do each other’s hair and play a few games and eat and drink of course.”

“Sounds fun, “ I said a little anxiously, it was all uncharted territory for me.

“Who did you play tonight?”

“You wouldn’t believe it, but the younger brother of one of the boys who Brian had the fight with.” I brought her up to date with that situation.

“So these boys were, like gonna do you some serious damage?”

“I dunno, possibly, they had a knife.”

“Oh my God, a knife–how horrible.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know Brian was there, he came running in like Superman and beat the crap out of the three of them. Philip was good, he helped too.”

“What, Philip Gonnersall?”

“Yeah, my badminton partner.”

“Sounds like he’s more than that, if you were like out walking together.”

“Erm, he might be…” I said quietly.

“Oh my God, Kylie, you’ve only been a girl two weeks and you’ve got a boyfriend,” she shrieked down the phone.”

“So, I didn’t plan it, it just, like happened.”

“My God, you and Philip Gonnersall, like wow!”

“He’s nice and I like, like him.”

“It’s kewl, I just didn’t think it would happen so fast. It’s really, like, kewl. Did you win tonight, you and Mr Kewl Gonnersall?”

“Yeah, although I played like a earthworm in the first game.”

“An earthworm–yuck, horrible wriggly things.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t even hit the net, let alone the shuttle.”

“So how did you win, did the horrid boy’s brother go home, or something?”

“No, I got my game together and Philip played a blinder. They thought they had a pushover and relaxed too much, we got the second game and in the third, we concentrated on her game and she fell apart.”

“Who’s she–the cat’s mother?”

“No she seemed quite nice, Maisie something, can’t remember.”

“Not Maisie MacIntosh?”

“Could be, why?”

“Did he call her, ’Apple’, ‘cos everyone does?”

“He was calling her something, coulda been Apple, why do they call her that?”

“Think about it, Apple and Macintosh.”

“No, doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Kylie, I don’t believe you, Apple Mac, the computers–you dum dum.”

“Oops, yeah, now you say it, of course.” I blushed, it wasn’t exactly the hardest association I’d ever heard.

“I hope you liked her, she’s in my class and she’s coming to my party.”

“Oh, perhaps I’d better not then.”

“Why? If we don’t talk about it who’s gonna know?”

“Well you’ll have to call me Kate.”

“Kate? Why for God’s sake?”

“We, used that name tonight, in case Grunter recognised me.”

“Oh, well I’m sure we’ll get round that somehow, so say you’ll come.”

“If Mummy says I can.”

“I’ll be round tomorrow, she’ll say yes.”

I put the phone down and wondered if it was a good idea or not. Gemma, obviously did and was going to try and get me to go. I wondered what Mummy would say, she might just say no, which would solve my worries but part of me would really like to go. I mean, how do I like, grow up to be a woman, if I don’t have some experiences as a girl?

I know sleep-overs are an American thing, but it sounds fun in lots of ways, and I need to make more friends. I need more anyway, but especially as a girl. I also need to get together with Gemma more often, she’s good fun.

I stretched out and my bag fell off the bed, it rattled and I remembered the pills. A sudden hot flush went through me, if anyone ever got to find out about this, I’d be grounded for life. I pulled out the pills, I’d hide them in my jewellery box, it had a secret drawer which would take them. I looked at the strip of foil and it almost felt too hot to hold. I really really wanted boobs, I knew I was still young and maybe Dr Shrinkwotsit would prescribe them for me. I wondered what they tasted like? I was so tempted, my mother called from downstairs and I jumped almost out of my skin. I hurriedly hid the pills in my box and went to see what she wanted.

~~~~~

Diolch yn fawr to Gabi for editing and improvements, any errors, omissions, emissions and permissions - please see Bonzi.

Totally Insane 16 - Excoriations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 16–Excoriations.
by Angharad

I went to bed and blushed when I saw my jewellery box. I was sure it was glowing in the dark, the pills were incandescent. I tossed and turned for some time. I wanted to take them so badly, yet I knew how mad my parents would be if I did. I tried to console myself with the fact that they would take months to have any effect and the strip was for one month. So even if I took them, it would make little or no difference to my body. Which meant I could take them, didn’t it? Or did it.

I went for a wee at one o’clock, everyone was in bed and sleeping–except me–I was sat on the loo and worrying. I went back to bed and did eventually go to sleep, I must have done because I woke up in tears.

I took all of the pills and they did have an effect, one of my boobs grew, very large but the other stayed flat. Every where I went people laughed at me. Even Philip was embarrassed by me and stopped seeing me. I woke up crying with my mother standing by the side of my bed and holding my hand.

“It’s okay, Kylie, just a bad dream. Come on, off you go to sleep again, there’s a good girl.”

When I heard her say, ’good girl’ I knew everything was okay and I could sleep properly.

I might have slept properly but I woke up because Mummy was practically pulling me out of my bed, “Come along, Kylie, time to rise and shine. Come on, what are you going to wear today, remember we have to go to the clinic this afternoon. So wear something suitable for that.”

“Um yeah,” I said and pulled the bedclothes back over me. I had just gone back to sleep when I shrieked. She’d returned with a wet flannel and wiped my feet with it. It was horrible. I couldn’t stay in bed with cold wet feet and so had to get up.

I showered, well part of me was wet anyway, and I stepped out of the bathroom with towels wrapped around me when, Brian the Barbarian, pushed past me and grabbed the bath towel I had wrapped around my chest. I shrieked again and he chuckled. “What’s the point of having a little sister if I can’t torment her?”

“You big bully,” I shouted at him.

A voice from downstairs called up, “Brian, leave Kylie alone.” He just laughed again. I don’t know why I squealed, it’s not as if I had anything to hide under the towel, except my dangly bits, and he’d seen those often enough when we went swimming. Suddenly now, things were different. I was embarrassed to be seen naked by him–I was a girl, sort of. Silly, but that’s how I felt. The problem is, I’d also be as embarrassed undressing in front of other girls. If that ever happens, unless they can do the operation next week, I’ll have to pretend to be pathawotsit shy. Mind you the way things are going, I might be by then.

As I pulled on my panties and bra, shoving in my pretend boobs, I hoped that none of that would happen at Gemma’s. Unless she was inviting me to give all the other girls a laugh at my expense. My whole body shuddered at this. She wouldn’t do that, would she? No, surely not, she’s my friend. Besides, her mother would be really upset and would tell my mother and they’d give her what for.

I looked in the mirror as I pushed my head and hands through the pink jumper and pulled it down over my body. Then the dark pink skirt and waistcoat, some knee length socks and my black strapped shoes. They have a little heel about four centimetres and they clop when I walk on the road. They sound really girly and I like them.

I brushed my hair and after dividing it into three strands, tried plaiting it like Auntie Emma had shown me. It sort of worked. I went down and Mummy looked at my hair and smiled. “Come here,” she said sighing and turned me around so she could get at my hair.

She redid it, and it immediately felt better. “Thank you,” I said smiling.

“Who showed you how to do that?”

“Auntie Emma.”

“You really are getting all girly aren’t you?”

“I suppose so, am I doing wrong?”

“No, sweetheart, I just wonder why we didn’t see any of this before. I mean, in two weeks, the boy you used to be has almost completely disappeared. Where has all this come from?”

“All what?” asked my dad.

“Kylie tried to plait her hair…”

“Looks okay to me, hello, sweetie-pie,” he pecked me on the cheek.

“Yes because I just redid it for her.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked my dad.

“It isn’t a problem, I just wondered why she’s become so girlish in such a short time.”

“Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to happen, you know, when you stop suppressing it. Ask Andrea Schlessinger, you’re okay to take her, I’ve got to see the big boss.”

“Yes, Darling, I’m fine to take her.” Whilst they were talking, I went and got my Rice Crispies and sat at the table eating them. Mummy came and made some fresh tea, except for Daddy, he has coffee at breakfast.

“Gemma is coming over this evening, is that all right?”

“I suppose so, why?”

“Why is she coming?”

“Presumably to see you, why are you asking? You never did as a boy.”

“I thought I’d better tell you, that’s all.”

“Oh, yes, it’s fine with me. Try and do some schoolwork this morning at Emma’s.”

“I will, Mummy.”

“Have you finished your breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Let me show you how to do a stew in the slow cooker…” For the next half an hour she had me slicing onions and carrots, peeling garlic and flouring bits of stewing beef, frying them to seal in the flavour and then transferring it all to the slow cooker, putting in some water and some more vegetables, and sticking the lid on the top. “There, that’ll be done by the time we come home, all we’ll need to do is put some potatoes on.”

It already smelt good, and Brian said so when he came down. “Aw we having steak, like, for breakfast?”

“No for dinner, beef stew.” My mother said as she helped me clean up the chopping boards.

“With dumplings?”

“No, Brian, you want dumplings, you make them. I haven’t got time.”

“What about the maid, can’t she do them?”

“What?” said my mother in astonishment, then saw his joke. “No she can’t, I haven’t shown her how to do them, and I don’t have any suet.” She quickly gobbled down a slice of toast and went off to work, “I’ll be back at about twelve thirty, Kylie, don’t get too messy.”

I’m a girl, we don’t do messy! Besides, this was brand new outfit and I wasn’t going to get it messy. Famous last words.

As soon as Brian left, I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my bag and went down the local corner shop. It sells everything, well nearly everything. I think it might not be able to get you a tyre for a bike, but it’s not a bike shop. As I wandered in, I suddenly realised I hadn’t been there since my changeover. Mr Papagopolis, the owner knows me because I unjammed his lock when some vandal put superglue in it. He always gives me sweets or an apple when I go there.

“Hello, young lady.” I could feel his eyes boring into me. I didn’t have any makeup on and I had a horrible feeling he was about to recognise me. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea.

“Hello, Mr Papagopolis, have you any suet?”

“But of course,” he led me to the aisle where it was and handed me the box, the price was on it. I took my purse out of my bag and paid him the correct money.

Usually, he would be chattering like a deranged monkey, but today he was silent. Did he recognise me or not? I was blushing like a light bulb. “You remind me of someone,” he said, and I blushed even brighter. I didn’t know what to do, should I tell him, or should I just leave. Why weren’t there any other customers?

“Do I?” I said innocently.

“Does your mother know you dress up like this?”

My stomach leapt up to my throat and back down again. “Yes, she did my hair for me,” I said in very small voice. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.

“You make a very pretty girl,” he smiled at me, and I suspect he was as embarrassed as I was.

“Thank you. I am a girl really.” I sniffed back the tears.

“Really, well I hope you’ll be happier then, don’t forget to come and see me from time to time.” He handed me an apple, “You’ll have to watch your figure,” he winked and I thanked him and left.

I dashed home, my plan needed the cooperation of another person, Auntie Em. I knocked at her door and she let me in. “You’re later today, Kylie.”

“Yes, I had to go down the shop to get some suet.”

“Suet?”

“Yes, can you show me how to make dumplings?”

“Dumplings?” she asked laughing, “Of course I can, let's get Sarah sorted.”

We did both, once again I bathed and changed Sarah and dressed her. I fed her with the bottle of expressed milk her mother had prepared. I really enjoyed doing this, how sad I would never have my own babies to look after.

“Have you ever thought about being a nursery nurse or a midwife, you’re so good with babies.”

I hadn’t thought about much at all. I’d intended to become a locksmith, but babies were much more fun than locks. Locks don’t gurgle when you tickle them. I explained about the dumplings and Auntie Emma conspired with me, we made them and I ran home and put them in the stew, which smelt absolutely delish.

I ran back and disaster struck, I stepped on a wet leaf, flew head over heels into the hedge, my face making contact with the wall behind it. For a moment I lay there, then my head started to hurt and I tried to get myself up but was all tangled up in the thorns of the Pyrocanthus. I couldn’t move. I began to cry.

Eventually, Auntie Emma came to see where I was, “Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed and helped to unhitch me from the vicious thorns. It took ages and it hurt, my top and skirt were all torn and muddy and I was cut and scratched all over.

Finally she managed to get me up, “Okay, let me get Sarah and I’ll be right over, go to your house and find something else to wear, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I let myself in and went up to my room, I was whimpering to myself, it all hurt. I took off the skirt and let it lie on the floor, even my panties were muddy and my legs were all scratched. I dumped the waistcoat on top of the skirt and started to pull at the jumper, it was stuck to me and hurt as I got it off. Auntie Em came rushing up the stairs calling my name. She saw the cuts and scratches and said, “Oh poor, Kylie.” I so wanted a hug but I felt too sore.

“Come on, in the bathroom, let’s get the dirt off and then I can do some dressings. That’s what we did, the water hurt, so did the antiseptic and she stuck a plaster or two on the worst cuts. My face had some nasty scratches on my cheeks and nose, and I had a bruise on my forehead–thanks to the brick wall. I suppose the thorns could have caught my eye, so I was lucky, but I didn’t feel it, everywhere stung and ached.

We were still there when my mother came home, I had just dressed in another top and skirt. I had a plaster on my knee and one on my elbow. Auntie Emma told her what had happened. She came and hugged me, it hurt, but I needed it and promptly burst into tears.

“Do you want me to cancel the clinic?” she asked me. Part of me did, but part of me wanted the magic pills. If I didn’t see her, I’d never get them. I had to go, I had no choice. I had also discovered one of the down sides of girl’s shoes and clothes, they are more slippery in the wet and skirts don’t protect you as well as trousers do when you try high speed gardening.

Mummy thanked Auntie Em for taking care of me, and she gave me another hug, “You silly goose, now you know why girls tend to walk most of the time.” She made us a sandwich, and then went to stir the stew. “What are these?” she looked at me and I smirked. “Kylie Mosse, who’s been putting dumplings in my stew?”

I explained and she hugged me again, it wasn’t quite so sore this time. “I shall make sure that Brian knows his little sister nearly killed herself doing his dumplings.”

“Mr Papagopolis recognised me too.”

“You bought the suet there?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“What did he say?”

“He said I made a very pretty girl.”

“Oh, pity you didn’t go now, he wouldn’t have recognised you at the moment.” We both laughed at that. I had been intending to put some make up on to go to see Dr Andrea, but now, it didn’t seem to make much sense. So I didn’t.

We got to the clinic at three, and went straight in. “What on earth have you been up to?” Dr Andrea said to me.

“I fell in a thorn bush this morning.”

“Ouch, I’ll bet you won’t need to do that again?”

“No,” I laughed.

“You didn’t pull off your dangly bits?”

“I wish,” I said and laughed again.

“Just thought it might have saved some time later,” she said winking at me. Mummy gave a report and told her about the fight, then she went out to the waiting room and I talked with the doctor on my own for a bit.

“When can I start growing my own boobs instead of these stupid foam thingies?” I said poking myself in the chest.

“You mean when can you take hormones?”

“Yes.”

“Not for a bit.” I felt myself start to tear up, and she saw the teardrop roll down my cheek. “Now hang on a second there, Missy, because I think I can give you some pills to stop you turning into a boy. I need to talk this over with your mum, but even if you were a normal girl, you might not have anything budding here yet.” She indicated my chest.

I sobbed, I really, really wanted my own boobs, so that everyone would know I was a girl not a fake. She called Mummy back in and discussed what she was proposing to do, to prescribe androgen blockers, which would stop my body becoming masculine and give her a chance to assess me a bit longer. The official policy was not to prescribe until sixteen, but she felt that was too slow. However, I could change my mind before then in which case a boy with boobs and big hips could have problems.

I waited outside for a bit while she spoke with Mummy, then we went home. The next appointment would be in another week. We had a prescription to get as well. It was for Miss Kylie Mosse and I felt quite proud of it. Recognition at last, and I suppose not turning into a boy was the next best thing to turning into a girl.

We got the pills on the way home, it was only after we got back in the car with my precious pills, that I realised the chemist might have known why I was having them. He did give me some funny looks which I thought was because of the scratches on my face. We didn’t use one of Daddy’s shops in case it embarrassed him.

Back home, I changed into some jeans and a tee shirt , and helped Mummy do the vegetables, potatoes and so on. She also put a tin of tomatoes into the stew and stirred it around, then some thickening for the gravy.

Brian was first home, he did a double take with my scratches. “What happened to you, lose a fight with a cat?”

“ She fell in a thorn bush,” said my mother without turning around.

“Silly moo,” he replied.

“Enough of that, it only happened because she was making dumplings for her big brother”

“What?” he looked somewhat perplexed.

“She was rushing to put the dumplings in the stew when it happened.”

“What?” He began to look around the kitchen for invisible thorn bushes.

“She made them at Emma’s house.”

“Ah,” I could almost see the light come on. “Yeah, that hedge is wicked. Tough luck, Sis, there’s like, no blood in the dumplings is there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Brian. Instead of asking silly questions, you might thank her for making them for you.”

“Oh yeah, like thanks, Sis,” he went off up the stairs shouting, “it smells good Ma.”

“I’ll ma you, you cheeky hound.”

Daddy was concerned when he saw my face and Mummy told him I was covered in scratches. He was even more concerned when he learned I was on anti-androgens.

“Horrible things, you’ll need regular blood tests to check for liver damage.” That really made my day, I hate needles, unless they were going to give me boobs.

At seven thirty, almost on the dot, Gemma arrived and we went up to my bedroom. She asked to see my wounds and gasped when I showed them to her. She gave me a hug for being a brave girl. I began to wonder if she thought I was seven not eleven. Okay, she’ll be twelve at the weekend, but even so. She’s also got boobs starting, I know ‘cos I felt them when she hugged me. Lucky girl.

We looked at my wardrobe and she said loads of my stuff would be okay, the top, leggings and skirt I wore to the doctor the first time would be okay. I showed her my nighties and my PJs, she thought the PJs might be better as no one would be able to accidentally see up them. I duly noted these points and we chatted then about other things, including the fight.

About half past eight, she said her mum was coming to get her, and she needed to speak to my mother. We trouped down to the kitchen. “Mrs Mosse, I’m having a birthday party next Saturday, can Kylie come?”

“I don’t see why not, I presume you want to go, hence the delegation?” She looked at me as she spoke.

“Yeah, like course, I do, Mummy.”

“Yes then, now what’s the catch?” How did she do that? How did she know?

“It’s a sleepover.”

“Oh is it? You’re well aware of Kylie’s little problem?”

“Yes, it won’t be a problem, we all change separately anyway.”

“I suppose so.”

“Thanks, Mummy.”

“Don’t forget to bring your sleeping bag,” she said as she heard her mother’s car pull up outside, we hugged and she left.

“You’d better ask Brian, it’s his sleeping bag,” my mother reminded me.

“Oh yeah, I’d like forgotten that.”

“Ask him to get it out, it might need a wash.”

I walked up to his room where he was playing some computer game, “Hey, Sis, those dumplings were like, okay.”

“Can I borrow your sleeping bag?”

“What for?”

“To go to a sleepover at Gemma’s next Saturday.”

“Geez, girl, you like, get all the luck. Sleeping with all those chicks, hoowee!”

“It isn’t the same when you’re one of them,” I pointed out as he dug out his sleeping bag from the bottom of his bedroom cupboard.

“Oh no, I suppose not. Don’t you like, feel anything in your doodah, when you see naked chicks?”

“No. Thanks,” I said taking the sleeping bag which smelt like a pair of old socks. Didn’t he wash anything? I took it downstairs and shoved it straight in the washing machine.

“That bad, huh?” commented my mother and we both laughed. “If there was any doubt that you were a girl, I think this would take it away. A boy would have slept in that.”

“You’re like, joking, it stinks.”

“Only to a girl’s nose.” She handed me the detergent and conditioner, and told what setting to put it on. Then we went off to have a cup of tea and a chat with my dad.

<~~~~~>

Thanks to Gabi for express editing and improvements.

Totally Insane 17 - Reparations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

Other Keywords:

brotherly love?

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 17–Reparations.
by Angharad

My various scratches and grazes hurt when I went to bed, especially when I moved my leg down the bed and pulled the plaster off. It bled and I had to put on another one–it also made me squeak a bit too. I’m not very brave when it comes to pain.

Next morning, the cuts and scratches hurt even more in the shower–although none started bleeding again. I managed to get out of the bathroom before my Klingon brother crawled out from under his stone. I was drying my hair when he sneaked in behind me and squirted something up my skirt. It was cold and I jumped and yelled, I also bashed my head on the bedroom door.

“Brian, leave Kylie alone,” shouted my mother from downstairs. I don’t know if she heard my shout or his maniacal laughter–I didn’t know pigs could laugh. I found out later he’d squirted cold water up my dress, so it wouldn’t mark or damage the material or me.

I had a chance to retaliate at breakfast, but didn’t take it, he’d have had to change his shirt and Mummy would have made me wash it. I don’t think Brian actually knows which is the washing machine and which is the cooker. The fridge he can recognise, because he makes a beeline for it when he comes home from school. So I suppose that puts him on a par with the cat, who also worked out various kitchen gadgets–mainly the fridge and the tin opener. Yeah, that sounds about right, if pushed I ‘spect Brian could just about recognise a tin opener.

Auntie Emma had agreed to supervise me for another week, which was good for me. I got to help with baby Sarah, which was infinitely preferable to school. I think long term, I was likely to end up going to the same school as Gemma and Karen, which is funny, seeing as my going there set all this off in the first place.

I knocked on Auntie Em’s door and waited. I was pressed up against it because it was raining and I was trying not to get too wet. She opened the door and I fell backwards into the house. Thankfully, neither of us were hurt although we both got a bit of a shock from it.

She did the grown up bit and told me off; I apologised and looked suitably penitent for a few minutes, before she shrugged and asked me to get Sarah out of her cot. I was so enthusiastic, that she called after me, “Walk please, Kylie, we don’t want any more accidents.” So I had to moderate my keenness and walk carefully to the nursery. I lifted and carried the baby back down to Auntie Emma, very carefully. She gurgled and cooed to me all the way and I made similar noises back. I really loved helping with her, maybe I would consider working with babies as a job.

If I said that to Mummy, she’d be quite happy for me to become a midwife or a nursery nurse, she might not want me to teach–she keeps saying she wouldn’t advise anyone to go into teaching. Daddy, would probably suggest I should become a paedophile or whatever it is they call doctors who look after babies, or is that an obstructitian–something like that, anyway. Brian wants to join the army, so I suppose he’ll have to learn to recognise a gun as well as a tin opener and fridge. Neither of our ‘rents are too happy about it, but as a psycho, he’ll probably be well suited to shooting people.

Auntie Em watched as I bathed Sarah and dressed her, then I fed her and put her down for her morning sleep. “You are getting so good at this, Kylie,” she said after I’d finished, “I’ll know where to come if I need a sitter.”

“She’s such a good baby,” I sounded as if I was a world expert on them rather than a total novice, “and I like helping to look after her.”

I went and did some schoolwork which I’d had for about a week, this was quite interesting for a change, it was about insects. I had to put a list of them in categories or classes, and say why I thought they went in that group. I used Auntie Em’s computer and it was quite easy, after I looked up each one. Cheating? Not really, I confirmed what I knew anyway about them. Daddy, is into wildlife quite a bit, when he has time, so I just remembered what he’d told me.

After that I did some arithmetic, cor aren’t logarithms boring? I spent a whole hour doing those, so my brain was numb when Auntie Em brought in a sandwich and a cuppa. After we’d eaten, I helped her with Sarah again, then we washed up and started her dinner.

At three, I had to go because I’d promised to vacuum the lounge and dining room and start the dinner. It felt quite strange being alone in the house and I locked the doors, which made me feel a little safer. I’d never felt worried there before, although I suppose I wasn’t ever very much on my own before.

I wondered if being a girl made me more scared than if I was a boy, then laughed about it. I was still the same, only the clothes had changed–but had they? I did things differently than a few weeks ago and I don’t know why. As a boy, I’d help my parents a bit, but no more than I had to and I’d also expect a bit of pocket money for doing it. As a girl, I hadn’t had any extra money but Mummy and Daddy had spent quite a lot on various bits and pieces for me.

I had shown Auntie Em, my bag of old cosmetics from the shop. She helped me go through them and keep what suited my colouring and complexion and we put the other stuff in a second bag. I wondered if they’d be any use to the other girls at Gemma’s party. I’d try and ask her, if they were, they could help themselves.

I had to get her a present as well as a card, maybe I could speak to Mummy or Auntie Em about it. I know I was supposed to be a girl now, and I know I am, but it’s not been for very long has it? Maybe girls who’ve been doing it a bit longer like different things to those like me who only started recently. If it was my birthday, I’d really like some new screwdrivers and a bench-top vice, I wonder if Gemma is in to locks and things?

I was busy puzzling over these things while I chopped the carrots and listened to Led Zep, after all Jimmy Page was part of the reason I had long hair. Or was he?

Oh no, some more soul searching–how big was my soul, and did we search it, or did it mean we were searching for it? Did we actually have one? I’d have a look on the internet later, probably on Wiki. What was a soul? Oh boy, where do these questions come from?

I played some air guitar for ‘Whole lot of love’ then got back to my carrots. I still hadn’t decided if I was heading for girldom when I started growing my hair or whether it sort of happened after. A bit like chicken and egg stuff.

I mean it’s obvious that an egg needs a chicken to lay it–so that’s the answer. I chopped another carrot, so where did the chicken come from? An egg–so that must have come first. Oh poo! This stuff is more difficult than I thought. Still, I knew that Jimmy Page came before me, ‘cos he’s a lot older. He’s actually older than my Dad–so he must be like, ancient. I wonder if Robert Plant is as old? Another topic for Wiki, after dinner.

I put the vegetables in saucepans and placed them on the cooker. I didn’t need to cook them, Mummy would do that when she came home. I think we were having chicken thighs, so they wouldn’t take too long to cook–hark at me, what do I know? Two weeks ago, a saucepan was something I’d only ever hit with a wooden spoon when pretending to drum like John Bonham. According to Daddy, he, Bonham, died in nineteen eighty, after which the band split up.

I looked at the chicken thighs in the fridge. Surely they wouldn’t take that long to cook, which was why Mummy didn’t ask me to switch the oven on–at least that’s what I assumed.

I was clearing up any mess in the kitchen and putting the vegetable scraps in the compost bag, when I heard a noise behind me. I spun round and Brian was walking in from the front door. My heart was thumping, I’d been so busy listening to the music and thinking my own thoughts, I hadn’t heard him come in.

“Why’s the door locked?” he demanded aggressively.

“I s’pose I forgot to undo it.” It wasn’t the real reason, but I wasn’t going to tell him that I felt nervous on my own.

“Bloody girls! Just for that you can take the compost down the garden.”

“Hey, that’s your job.”

“Well, how about you just got promoted to a pretend boy and you do it.”

“No, I’ve just done the vegetables.”

“So, I’ve just been to school all day, unlike you, I s’pose you were playing with Baby Sarah or better still, playing with her hot mother.” His eyes lit up with a strange sort of energy which I would eventually learn was called lust. “Nah, you’d rather play with Philip bloody Gonnersall–yuck! So take out the compost–right?” The last word was uttered in a semi-threatening manner.

“I’ll tell Mummy on you.”

“I’ll tell Mummy on you,” he repeated in a silly voice, “Geez, Kyle, you really are a bloody big sissy aren’t you?”

“No I’mnot, I’m a girl.”

“Yeah, yeah, a girl with bollocks–a sissy.”

“No I’m not, I’m not a sissy,” I felt my eyes become wet and I started to cry.

“Oh geez, what are you cryin’ for?”

“You called me a sissy, and I’m not, I’m a girl.”

“Okay, okay, you’re a bloody girl, like so what, take the compost down the garden, there’s a good GIRL, before I smack you one.”

“You’re a big pig!” I exclaimed at him, the tears still running down my cheeks.

“Yeah, well you’ve either got it or you ain’t. I got it, you ain’t.” He pointed at the compost and seething with resentment, I picked it up and took it down the garden to the bin. However, instead of putting it tidily in the bin, I just tipped it on the ground alongside it. When Daddy saw it, he’d be asking how it got there and of course I wouldn’t know anything about it, would I? Revenge is something you sometimes have to wait for.

“Hey, girly, get me a Doc Peppers,” he called down the stairs.

“Get it yourself, I’m not your maid,” I called back.

He came storming down the stairs, “I told you to do something.”

“So?”

“So do it.”

“No, I’m not your maid.”

“Well you don’t look like the butler, do you.” He poked me in the chest, and I squeaked. He hadn’t hurt me, just surprised me, “Geez, are those real?” he referred to my ‘boobs’. Obviously he couldn’t tell the difference between foam and fat, so maybe he wasn’t the great lover he pretended to be.

I held my hands across in front of me. “Come on, gi’s a look.”

“No, leave me alone you.”

“Come on, girly, I’ll bet bloody Gonnersall gets to see them all the time.”

“Leave me alone you big ape.”

He pushed me back against the wall and I wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do next, when Mummy’s car pulled up in the drive. He looked at me and at the back door, then he fled upstairs. I was shocked and for a moment didn’t do anything except stand flat against the wall aware of the small tear in my dress..

Brian and I had fought, sort of–usually they were massacres in his favour–but I would fight back as best I could. He’d always win, and I’d end up howling but I had never felt shocked before. I felt violated and dirty. There was something about this encounter which was different to anything that had happened between us before. I suppose, something sexual had happened to him at any rate and he just ignored my feelings to satisfy his own curiosity or gratification.

I was still standing against the wall with silent tears pouring down my face when Mummy walked in. She had armfuls of stuff but I could neither speak nor move.

“Kylie, give me hand will you?” She staggered to the kitchen table. “Kylie, don’t just stand there. Kylie? What’s the matter?” She dumped the stuff unceremoniously and rushed over to me. “What’s the matter? What’s happened to you?”

I still couldn’t speak but I flung my arms around her and sobbed against her breasts. “What on earth has happened, sweetheart?” She hugged me for several minutes cooing to me. “Is Brian home?” she asked me. When I shuddered at this, she asked, “Has Brian upset you?” I still couldn’t speak and I clung on to her, trembling.

“Okay, sweetheart, I’ll get to the bottom of this.” She sat me on a chair and went to the hall and yelled, “BRIAN, GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE, NOW.”
She came back to me, “What did he do?”

“He tried to see my boobs,” I said haltingly interspersed with sobs and more tears.

“He did what?” The look on her face went from one of sympathy to anger in a nanosecond. “I’ll murder him, BRI…oh, there you are. Just what did you try to do to your sister?”

I couldn’t look at either of them, and held my face in my hands and wept some more.

“I haven’t touched her, she’s made it up.”

“Did you, Kylie?” she asked me, and I shook my head and wailed. “What did you do?”

“Nothin’,I didn’t do nothin’.”

“Anything, didn’t do anything–have years of education not penetrated that tiny little brain of yours one iota? She says you tried to touch her breasts, did you?”

“No, honest, I didn’t.” How could he lie like that?

“I don’t believe you, Brian. If you ever as much as lay one finger on your sister again, I’ll send for the police, assuming your father doesn’t actually kill you first. Now, get out of here, go to your room and stay there.”

“She’s lying, I didn’t touch her. Bloody sissy,” I heard him shout as he went back upstairs.

“No Brian, she isn’t a sissy, she’s your sister–remember, the one who sewed your pants and made your dumplings, and this is her reward–you stupid boy, keep out of my sight until your father comes home; he can deal with you.”

Mummy came back over to me, and smiled at me, “Come on, kiddywinks, let’s have a cuppa, eh?” I still felt shocked but I presume she made some tea for us, because a little later, she poured us each a cup and I sat on her lap and drank it, while she held me with her left arm.

“Feel better now?” she asked and I nodded. “Can you tell me what he did?”

“He tried to touch my boobs,” I sniffed and felt my eyes moisten again.

“But you haven’t..okay, sweetheart, he doesn’t know that does he?”

“No, I s’pose not,” I sniffed.

“And that’s not the point is it? He attempted to violate you and he has to learn that isn’t acceptable at any time or level. Your father is going to be really mad with him, I think he’s gone much too far this time. Though what we do about it, I’m not sure. Anyway, let’s get the dinner on and I’ll have a think about it. Stupid boy.” She shook her head and I helped her with the dinner.

Just before six, my father came home, he spoke to my mother and kissed her on the cheek, and he hugged me and pecked me on the cheek. “Stuart, I need to talk with you, can you watch the dinner a minute, Kylie?” They went off to his office.

I felt myself blush, I knew what they were talking about and I felt sad. In some ways I didn’t want Brian to be punished, although I knew it was coming and he deserved it. He had saved me that day when I was out with Philip and I hadn’t forgotten. He’d also been relatively nice to me the past few days. I was simply shocked when he tried to pull my top open, something he wouldn’t have done to me as his brother. I couldn’t understand him at all. I mean when I kiss Philip, I get a nice feeling in my tummy, and I s’pose he does too, but he doesn’t try to rip my clothes off.

I was in the kitchen watching the potatoes boiling, when Daddy came in, Mummy was behind him. “Tell me what happened?” I related how he’d been calling me names and tried to bully me into taking the compost out, then he spoke about Auntie Em and suddenly, he poked me in the chest and tried to see inside my bra.

“So he thinks you have breasts and he wanted to see them?” said my father, and I nodded. “Irrespective of whether or not you have them, what he did was very wrong. I’m sorry he did it to you, Kylie. In a very short time, he will also be very sorry he did it. How do you think I should punish him?”

“I don’t know,” I said looking at the floor, “don’t hurt him will you?”

“I won’t physically touch him, although I feel like giving him a sound thrashing.”

“Oh don’t do that, Daddy.” I threw my arms around him.

“Don’t do what, sweetheart?”

“Don’t hit him.”

“I’m not going to, much as I’m tempted. But I need some way to make him understand he can’t do this to you or other girls.”

“Make him wear his own bra,” I said, and sniggered. My father laughed.

“It would serve him right, and maybe he wouldn’t be in such a hurry to get his hands inside one, if it was his own,” agreed my mother.

“It certainly has it’s appeal,” Daddy chuckled,” but I’m sure it would fall foul of some law or other. I shall threaten him with it and hit his pocket money–again. Quite what I’m going to do with that boy, I don’t know. Okay, let’s get it over.”

“Watch the dinner,” said Mummy as she followed Daddy upstairs.

I had turned off the cooker as everything was cooked, well except the oven and I left that to Mummy to check. I was pretty sure the chicken was done, although I remembered something about making sure it was thoroughly cooked or it can poison you. So I left it sizzling in the oven.

The condemned man arrived with the firing squad. “Apologise to your sister,” said the larger of the two guards.

“I’m really sorry, Kylie. I don’t know what came over me. I’ll never disrespect you again. I promise.”

“Or what will happen?” asked the large guard.

“I’ll have to wear girls’ underwear for a month.”

“A month!” I burst out laughing.

Mummy waved one of her bras in front of him, “Sure you don’t want to try one now?”

He blushed and looked at the kitchen floor, “No.”

“You so much as breathe on your sister again, and you’ll be wearing the frilliest bras and panties, I can find–and you’ll be wearing them to school and down the gym.”

I think I saw a tear run down his cheek. “I said, I’m sorry.”

“Words are cheap Brian, I simply want you to understand the consequences of your actions. I want you grow up as a decent, responsible man, respecting women and other men, not giving vent to stupid urges to gratify yourself at the expense of someone else, especially your sister. I am disappointed in you, especially after you got involved in a fight to protect her. I really hoped you were starting to grow up.” As my mother turned the screw, I saw a tear drip from his face and land on the kitchen floor.

I felt an awful conflict of feelings, part of me wanted to hurt him for what he’d done and part of me wanted to run and hug him, because I couldn’t bear to see him cry. Something inside me knew I couldn’t interfere, so I turned away and began to lay the cutlery on the table.

Dinner was a very muted affair. We all sat and ate in silence for most of it. “What has happened here today, we speak about to no one, is that understood?” My father said, looking at me.

“Yes, Daddy, I won’t tell anyone.”

After we cleared up, Mummy and I, that is, we were going to watch a film together when Philip called. I went out for a walk with him to the park. We held hands, but to be honest, my heart wasn’t in it. He wanted to kiss me, and I moved away.

“Are you okay?”

“No, not really; Brian and me, we had a fight earlier.”

“What he hit you?”

“No he pushed me against a wall, and it hurt my scratches and things. So I’m, like, sore all over.” I was telling fibs but I had promised Daddy to keep quiet.

“I began to think you didn’t like me anymore.”

“No, I like you lots, Philip, I’m just not in the best of moods.” I kissed him on the cheek.

He put his arm around me, “Does that hurt?”

“No, that’s alright, I suppose.”

“Does that hurt?” he asked stroking my back.

“A little,” I lied, it was doing anything but hurting me, but just the thought of it was also revolting me.

“Wanna go back home?”

“Yes please,” I replied and he stood up and held my hand all the way home.

“Is that the hedge?” he asked looking at Auntie Em’s pyrocanthus.

“Yes, why?”

“Geez, look at the thorns on it,” he jabbed his finger against one and quickly withdrew it, shoving it in his mouth and sucking it. “Wow, those are sharp, and you fell into it?”

“Yes, how do you think I got the scratches on my face and body.”

“It could have like, stuck in your eye and you could have like, lost an eyeball.”
I shuddered at the thought of it. It was completely over the top detail. “I like, heard about this kid, who like, bent down to pick something up in the garden, and poked his eye out on a stick, ewwch.”

I felt very sick and it was as much as I could do to keep my dinner down. Why do boys like to explore such horrid things?

“It ran down his face…”

I ran too, for the cloakroom as I tried not to share my dinner with him before I got there.

~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for head-hitting and other violent suggestions.

Totally Insane 18 - Confirmations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

TG Elements:

Hair Salon / Long Hair / Wigs / Rollers

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 18–Confirmations.
by Angharad

I woke up with a sense of power, if Brian upset or threatened to, all I had to do was whisper the word, bra and he would withdraw and leave me in peace, rather than pieces.

By the time I’d come downstairs and had him lurch past me on the landing, my new found talisman, didn’t feel quite so powerful. He was quite a bit bigger than me and could inflict a lot of damage if he so wished. I hope he never would. I was frightened of him–yet not frightened, if you see what I mean. He could knock the stuffing out of me, yet I trusted him not to, I mean, he was like, my brother. I still recalled seeing him in action against those thugs, he was really fast and effective, and I like to think he got involved because I was at risk. I hope it was family loyalty and things.

Mummy wished me a good morning and handed me a bowl for my cereal, I replied in a fairly upbeat manner. Brian who arrived a couple of minutes later, just grunted to her and looked at me as if I wasn’t there. That frightened me a bit.

Mummy went upstairs for something, and I took a risk–“Brian, can we be, like friends again?”

He looked at me in disbelief, “After what you did to me yesterday, go to hell.”

“I, like, didn’t do anything.”

“ ‘…cking fairy,” he spat and got up from the table, grabbed his coat and bag and left without even finishing his breakfast.

I felt my eyes fill with tears, I didn’t like not being friends with him, he was my brother. I didn’t know what to do next, although I knew crying wasn’t the answer.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” asked my mother as she slipped her coat on.

“I upset Brian.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked him if we could be friends again.”

“Ah, just give him some time, he’ll be alright eventually.”

“I hope so, Mummy, I don’t like him being mad at me.” I burst into tears when she hugged me.

“Maybe I should send you to Nan and Gramps? Give the two of you some breathing space.”
For some reason, I didn’t want to do that even though I knew they spoil me rotten. It would be running away and I wasn’t going to do that. I might be fairy in some people’s eyes, but I wasn’t a cowardly one. “I’d rather stay here, Mummy.”

Just then the post came through the letter box and Mummy went to get it. “Oh oh, a letter from the police,” she said. Next moment she was on the phone to Daddy, who must have told her to open it, because she did. “It’s from the Chief Constable, he wants you to take Kylie and Brian to a meeting with him on Friday morning.” She paused, then replied to something he must have said, “Yes this Friday, at ten. I know it’s short notice. He apologises that he’s doing it quickly because he’s going to be away from the weekend.”

It was Wednesday. Goodness, what was I going to wear? A sudden chill ran through me–they weren’t expecting me to dress like a boy, were they? Before I could gather my wits, my mother gasped something about the time and dashed off.

I wiped my eyes and picked up the letter. It was very short and to the point.

Dear Stuart,

Re: The fracas at the shopping centre involving Brian and Kylie.

I’d be grateful if you bring both of them to Police Headquarters on Friday morning at 10.00am, so we can try and sort this business out.

Sorry it’s short notice, but I’d like to resolve it quickly and I’ll be unavailable from Saturday.

Yours sincerely,

Peter Holiday BSc hons,
Chief Constable.

Gosh, Brian and I would have to get over our differences for that or we’d be in real trouble. I was quite concerned that I’d be in a room with people who knew I wasn’t a proper girl, but there was no way I was going as a boy.

I ran upstairs and took my blocker pill and then opened my jewellery box and popped out one of the birth control pills. I swallowed it quickly. I might still be a boy officially, but now I had female hormones in my body. Now I really felt like a girl, a real girl.

I tidied myself up and looked in the mirror, I looked the same as I had before I took the pills. So there was nothing my dad would pick up on. Inside, my tummy was churning, I think it was just nerves, least, I hoped that’s all it was. I went to see Auntie Em.

“Hello, Kylie. Are you all right?”

I don’t know how she knew I wasn’t, but she gave me a huge hug and said quietly, “We’ll talk about your little problem as soon as we’ve got Sarah sorted, are you going to give me a hand?”

I nodded and wiped my eyes, I hadn’t used any makeup, so it wasn’t smeared all over my face. I smiled at her, “Yes, I’d like that, I like helping with Sarah.”

“I know you do, that’s why I wait for you to get her ready. Come on, let’s go and get her.” She put her hand on my shoulder and eased me towards the nursery. Baby Sarah, gurgled and smiled at me and I soon forgot my worries. We spent a peaceful hour bathing and dressing her and giving her a little feed. I fed her, Auntie Em had obviously squeezed some milk into a bottle for me to do it, they call it expressing. I thought of ’Express Dairies’, that really gave it a new meaning. I chuckled to myself and Sarah gurgled back.

As I pushed the pram, its precious cargo asleep inside it, along the paths in our local park, Auntie Em asked me what had caused my upset?

“Brian and me had a fight last night and he’s still angry about it.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it eventually, your natural sweetness will win him over.”

“Um, I think it might actually, be like, part of the problem.”

“Oh, why?”

“He calls me a sissy and so on.”

“He’s wrong there, you’re all girl, Kylie. A sissy isn’t as far as I’m aware, it’s a term of abuse for effeminate boys. You’re not a boy and you’re not effeminate, you’re a delightful young lady.”

“Thanks, Auntie Em. We also have to go and like, see the Chief Constable on Friday morning about the fight.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Yes, I know he will know I’m not a real girl.” I was trying not to cry.

“Yes you are, Kylie. It’s more than just body parts, it’s about attitudes and self image and core identity. You look and act just like a girl, you care about people, even those who seem not to care about you and you enjoy doing it.”

“So do some boys, don’t they?”

“Yes, yes they do, but it’s a different sort of caring–I can’t really put it into words, but believe me I recognise it when I see it. Um, think of how your mother and father care for you, they both love you just as much and care for you as much as each other, but they do it differently. Sometimes it’s so subtle, it’s indescribable, but it’s there. You have the female type of it.”

“I do?” I felt so much better, maybe I really was a girl–I must be, I had girly ‘mones in my body now.

“Yes you do, the way you help me with Sarah, no boy would do it like you do; you do it like a big sister or even a very young mother.”

“I ‘spect you just showed me how to do it that way.”

“No I didn’t. Let’s sit here a moment.” She indicated a park bench that the local vandals hadn’t destroyed or stolen for its scrap metal value. “Ever since I first met you as Kylie, which was a bit of a surprise if you remember, I watched you to see how real your change was.”

“Oh,” I felt my mouth droop, I felt as if she didn’t trust me.

“Don’t take it to heart, young lady,” she patted me on the knee, “I was fascinated by the change which seemed to come over you. I expected to see you as a boy in skirts, gauche and awkward. Instead, you were a real revelation, natural and at ease in what should have been alien territory.”

I looked up at her, not sure if I was still some sort of experiment she was conducting. She seemed to sense my ambivalence.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking notes and telling anyone,” she smiled a lovely smile. “No, I liked you before when I thought you were a boy, you were always polite and helpful and the people in the close are all fond of you, partly because you’ve helped several of them, but because you’re a nice kid.

So when you changed over, and I got over the initial surprise, and I saw the way you responded to Sarah, I began to see little things I wasn’t expecting. You handled her like a girl does, boys do it differently don’t ask me to explain, it’ll only confuse things–but believe me, if I asked Brian to hold her he’d do it differently to you.”

“But, I’ve had more practice with her, she knows me.”

“It wouldn’t matter, you’d do it like a girl and he’d do it like a boy.”

“You showed me what to do,” I was really confused by all this. Surely, anyone can be taught how to hold a baby? And comparing me with Brian, was like doing it with a yeti. I knew he was male, it was the human bit I doubted.

“A little, but you soon adopted your own way of holding her, which is so close to mine, she settles down and relaxes. Take it from me, it’s a girl thing and you have it. You walk and talk like one, you are one, full stop, so don’t worry about the Chief Constable, I’m sure he’ll be a clever chap and recognise you for what you are.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I said, rocking the pram when I thought I heard a little movement from inside.

“Maybe you should take Sarah with you?”

“What? I couldn’t do that.”

“I was joking, Missy, come on let’s go home and have a cuppa.”

I checked Sarah was okay, and tucked her in again, stroking her face gently and talking to her. Then began to push her back to the house.

“And you’re not a girl?” Auntie Em said as we walked.

“Eh?,” I was rapt in my own thoughts.

“You have just checked her like a mother would, like I would.”

“Yeah, well, I 'spect I copied you then.”

“Kylie, why do you find it so difficult to accept the truth, as far as I can remember, you have never seen me push a pram, you always do it when we take Sarah out. Can’t you just accept you do these things unconsciously, or innately because of what you are.”

“What’s that, a fairy?”

“No, you silly girl. I’m obviously wasting my breath. Come on, let’s get home.” She felt a little distant after that so I concentrated on just pushing the pram, a little self conscious of practically everything I did in case she was studying me.

By the time we got home, I felt very uncomfortable. I had upset her too, by arguing with her. That, I knew, was a boy thing, Mummy is always accusing Brian of it, whatever she says, he disagrees.

“I’m sorry, Auntie Em,” I said feeling this wave of sadness well up inside me and wash all over me. “If you don’t want me here anymore…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, it was too painful yet I deserved all of it.

“Kylie,” she said and engulfed me in a hug, “don’t be silly, of course I want you here and so does Sarah. She looks for you when you’re not here.”

I sobbed against her, repeating how sorry I was.

“Sorry for what, young lady?”

“For arguing, it’s something boys do.”

“So do girls, believe me, my sister and my mother used to fight like cat and dog until she grew up."

“Thank you for saying, I’m a girl, like.” I sniffed and she handed me a tissue.

“Now, this is the last time we discuss this, okay?”

I nodded, and blew my nose.

“In my humble opinion, you are a girl, female, however you want to say it. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, but as far as I am concerned, you are my special niece and I will treat you as such until you tell me different. End of discussion. Now give me a hug and see what Sarah’s doing while I make the tea.”

In the afternoon, I did some schoolwork for a short time and then she showed me some things to do with sewing, she’s making new curtains and she’s going to show me how to do some of it. I enjoyed it more than reading about the, South Sea Bubble and the British East India Company.

I was doing the vegetables when Brian came in, he didn’t speak to me at all. I had, however, put the letter on the fridge door with a magnet and he saw it and read it. “Oh shit!” he said amongst other things, “You seen this?”

It was stating the obvious, but I said I had. Maybe dealing with a common enemy would heal our rift? Muttering more imprecations, he took himself upstairs with a can of cola and some biscuits.

I carried on with my chores, putting the large potatoes in the pre-warmed oven to cook as ‘jackets’. I finished the salad and put it in its bowl back into the fridge.

Brian came rushing down the stairs and charged off somewhere. I felt like telling him not to be late, but he would have given me a surly reply or ‘the finger’. I didn’t want him to get into any more trouble, although he’d never believe me if I said it. I’m not sure I would have either. What was happening to me?

He got back just after Mummy came home. “Where have you been?” she enquired as he came in.

“Down to town, doing a recce.”

“A what?” she paused in showing me again how to make salad dressing.

“A recce, you know, look the place over.”

“A reconnaissance, you mean?”

“Yeah, a recce.”

She shook her head, “And what did you find in your recce? I presume you were looking for something.”

“Yeah, there’s CCTV cameras in several places and the police have taken it.”

“You mean you asked in the shops?”

“Yeah, I like, asked the security guy in BHS, he remembers them coming the next day.”

“So did he see the fight?”

“No, he was dealing with a shoplifter, but he heard about it.”

“I wonder how much was true and how much was gossip?” said my mother absently.

Daddy arrived and dinner became a discussion about the Friday meeting. He was trying to make sure we sang from the same hymn sheet. I thought we’d be talking, not singing–but what do I know? We didn’t know if the videotapes would show anything or not or who had them.

At one point, I was pleased Brian had thought about them, it showed that monkeys can be environmentally aware, then with all the unknowns, I began to feel less happy about it. I left Brian and Daddy still talking about it and spoke to Mummy.

“What should I wear on Friday?”

“What do you mean?” she looked at me and I knew what she was thinking–do I go boy or girl? I quickly settled that.

“Should I wear a dress or separates?”

“How about what you wore to the clinic the first time, you looked nice then, didn’t you, and you felt quite confident.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” actually, it was as well as the other things, but I’d thought about clothes earlier, even discussed it with Auntie Em. I suppose I missed a chance to get some more out of it, unless it goes to court, then I shall ask for a new outfit, I expect Brian will get one as well.

The next day, was one of getting stuff ready for Friday. Brian’s best shirt and school trousers were washed and ironed, Mummy did all this, it was too important to be delegated to me. I’d made sure my clothes were all okay, I also decided that I would wear my hair down. Mummy had organised a hairdresser’s appointment for us both on the Thursday evening, and I was to wander down there for five o’clock.

I was really glad I had Sarah to keep my mind off it, otherwise I’d have been a right worry-guts. I took another of the little white pills, Philip had given me, I was sure I was feeling more female after two days of the hormones in my body, but my boobs hadn’t seemed to grow at all. I wondered how long that would take–at least a couple of weeks, I expect.

I quite enjoyed the hairdressers, Judy, the lady who cut my hair was very nice to me. I tried to pretend that I was an old hand at it, but it was obvious I wasn’t. I tried to copy Mummy, except that she was behind me and I couldn’t always see what she was doing in the mirror–maybe I wasn’t a real girl after all?

Judy took ages washing and then cutting my hair, clipping some of it out of the way, brushing and combing and cutting. Her touching my hair sent like electric shocks down my spine and made my whole body seem extra sensitive to being touched, it was weird.

I was finished first and my hair did look nice, quite how we’d manage that tomorrow, I hated to think. I sat and waited reading, or pretending to be reading while Mummy was finished, she was telling them that they had to go to the police to see about this fight Brian had got involved in, after he spotted some boys teasing me. “He worries me to death, if only he was a quiet and helpful as his sister, he’d be no problem at all…” I felt my ears burn, along with the rest of me.

If Thursday had been busy, Friday was frantic. I washed and dressed, some of the worst scratches had recovered enough for me to wear some mascara and eyeliner. I combed my hair and it had held it’s cut rather well. I sprayed on some of the perfume daddy had given me. I was ready, Mummy was still rushing about like a chicken with no head.

Daddy and Brian were arguing over the bathroom, and Mummy was shrieking about something else. I sat quietly in the lounge trying to breathe slowly, my tummy was churning like a cement mixer. What was going to happen? Who else was going to be there?

“No lip gloss?” said my mother as she put something in her handbag. Aarrgh! How could I have forgotten that? I dashed into the cloakroom and was promptly sick. I cleaned it up and did my lips. My tummy felt easier now.

Twenty minutes later, we were waiting in the visitors’ area at the police HQ; Brian was tapping his foot and Daddy kept tapping him, telling him to stop. Mummy held my hand, which was wet with sweat.

At about one minute to ten, a young woman came and invited us to follow her. She led us through the building and eventually we came through an office with a secretary, beyond it was a large door with a brass nameplate inscribed, Peter Holiday, Chief Constable.

Totally Insane 19 Repudiations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 19–Repudiations.
by Angharad

The door of the office opened and the young woman told us to go through. My Daddy led the way, he walked over to the tall man behind the huge desk and they shook hands.

“Hello, Peter, good to see you again, you know Rosemary. This is Brian and Kylie.” Brian and I nodded to the man who nodded back.

“Please do sit down,” we did on the semi-circle of chairs that were arranged in front of the desk. There were at least a dozen, so I suspected several more people would be in attendance.

“Stuart, I’ve looked at the evidence–there were some CCTV tapes, but I think they’ve been tampered with. So I asked WPC Armstrong to go and make some enquiries at the shopping centre.” He leaned forward speaking into an intercom; “Will you send in WPC Armstrong?” She entered a moment later.

“Could you tell The Mosses what your enquiries revealed?” Mr Holiday asked.

“Certainly, Sir. You have my report in front of you. The camera tapes had been collected from the various shops and council sites by a police officer, although no one seemed to know who’d collected them–no receipts were issued, just an exchange of a blank tape for the used one. I found this odd and not the normal procedure in such matters.”

Clearing her throat she continued; “I then asked if anyone had witnessed the incident the previous weekend. One witness had thought it happened on the Saturday, but he complained that the kids were always making a nuisance of themselves. After that I found two other witnesses who suggested that a group of bigger boys had begun teasing a younger boy and girl. They hadn’t liked to get involved because these things can get a bit rough.”

I began to feel that maybe things weren’t going to be too bad, but my tummy was churning. “One of the witnesses thought she saw one of the boys produce a knife which he handed to the other boy. Then suddenly, another boy came rushing in and seemed to knock down three or four of the others. He seemed to know the younger couple, especially the girl. After some things were said, the rescuer left with the younger couple.”

“That isn’t quite everything, is it, WPC Armstrong?” said Holiday.

“No, Sir, one of the shops wasn’t open on the Monday after the fight, the owner had some building work done. However, his camera had been working on the Sunday and I managed to borrow the tape. The film clearly shows the incident, as it happened right outside his shop.”

“And you have seen this film?”

“Yes, Sir, it shows pretty well what the witnesses described and confirms the statements made by Kylie and Brian Mosse.”

“I see, please take a seat, WPC Armstrong, and thank you for your very good work.” She sat the other side of Mummy, who was seated next to me.

“Please have the others come in,” said the Chief Constable into the intercom. Two moments later, two huge men and two large boys entered, followed by two women. “This is Chief Inspector Burden and his family, and Sergeant Hogg and his family. Mr and Mrs Mosse and their children.” The adults nodded to each other. “Please be seated,” said the CC to the new comers; they all sat down, filling the rest of the chairs. The tension was almost unbearable.

“Chief Inspector would you care to explain what you believe happened on the Sunday afternoon at the shopping centre?”

“Yes, Sir: My boy Richie and his mate Johnie Hogg, were larking about by the shops that Sunday afternoon when Kyle Mosse and his boyfriend Philip Gonnersall came by holding hands and acting in what could only be described as a lascivious way.”

I wasn’t sure what the words meant exactly, but I knew they weren’t good. I felt very hot. I should have known they were going to tell lies about us because they were in the wrong; what I didn’t know was how hurt I was going to feel. Mummy was holding my hand and I felt her tense as the Chief Inspector spoke. I glanced at Daddy and he was getting very red and angry looking.

“Anyway, the pair of fairies taunted the two boys and their girl friends”–at this I thought Daddy was going to get up and hit him, but he just shifted in his seat–“the boys, being boys, and in front of their girlfriends, got a bit boisterous with them and the next minute, Brian Mosse came charging in waving a knife and threatened then hit my lad and two of the others. He’s into martial arts and dangerous. My lad and the others came home, he suffered a broken nose and the others had various injuries to face and body. That boy’s like a wild animal and ought to be in a cage.”

My Daddy shifted in his seat again, he was having difficulty sitting still he was so angry, and Brian was staring at the floor, tapping his foot quietly on the thick carpet.

“What do you know of Kylie Mosse, Chief Inspector?” asked the Chief Constable.

“Only that he’s gay and likes to advertise the fact by flouncing around in dresses.”

“Do you find that offensive?”

“Not personally, but when he upsets my lad, I do.”

“Do you have any supporting evidence for your case?”

“Yes, Sir, we collected several CCTV tapes from which we compiled the relevant parts on to one tape.” He held up the tape.

“Could you please show us the tape,” the Chief Constable indicated a VCR and screen. The large police officer deposited the tape in the machine and pressed play.

We watched black and white film showing four versions of the incident, which only lasted for about two minutes. The evidence wasn’t especially clear and wasn’t how I recalled the event.

“You see, Mosse with the knife and then hitting the others,” claimed the large copper. The tape stopped and he returned to his seat.

“Could you send in Mr Cropper,” the Chief Constable spoke into his intercom. The two coppers looked at each other in puzzlement. In came a man about thirty-something. “Would you care to show the tape you have Mr Cropper and run through the main point of your report, for us.”

“Of course, Chief Constable.” He removed the tape in the machine and put in his own. “This is basically a copy of this tape,” he showed the one that Burden had put in the machine, “showing where the tape has been altered, some of it cleverer than others.” He pressed start and the tape ran.

“In this bit, you can see the angle has changed, which is obviously impossible from a stationary camera, this piece has been moved, look at the detail in the background, the woman with the pram has changed position having apparently walked backwards. The counter has been altered, rather clumsily, the figures are a slightly different size indicating two tapes have been mixed.” He continued in this vein for several minutes.

“Thank you, Mr Cropper–if you hadn’t guessed, Mr Cropper is a forensic scientist from the university.” I glanced at the other lot: the two policemen were looking very worried. “WPC Armstrong, would you care to show your tape, perhaps Mr Cropper would care to agree this is unadulterated?”

The film was shown, which was much more like our version of events, the knife was seen being passed from one boy to the other and waved at me, before Brian–in best Batman tradition–swooped in and decked them all.

“Would you care to say where the tape came from?”

“Yes, Sir, it was from the camera shop, which was closed that evening for the week for alterations. The owner, a Mr Sylvester, has one camera pointing out through the window on to the square and one inside the shop.”

“Mr Cropper?”

“Well, Chief Constable, it looks perfectly okay, although to be sure I’d need to check it in my lab.”

“I suspect that won’t be necessary. Mr Mosse, perhaps you’d like to say something?”

My father nodded and leapt to his feet. His anger had cooled a little because he began to realise he was probably going to win the argument. “Thank you, Chief Constable; there are a few things I feel like saying but I won’t because there are ladies present, including my own daughter.” This remark brought a snigger from Burden junior and my father’s eyes flashed.

“I see you find that amusing, young man. It doesn’t surprise me, I suspect such attitudes go well with beating up smaller kids and demonising minorities. And yes, my daughter, Kylie, is one such minority, suffering from a condition known as Gender Identity Disorder, which means that she has a female mind inside what was primarily a male body. She is however, seeing a leading expert in the field, who confirms the diagnosis. I suspect the same doctor could confirm the state of being an arsehole on you, young man, only that isn’t treatable.”

The boy’s father stood up, “How dare you call my lad names, at least he knows what he is.”

“I know what he is too and he’d better stay away from my kids.”

“Gentlemen, please sit down.” The Chief Constable had his hands full as both fathers were very angry. “I called you all here to try and avoid a court case, because the outcomes would be very serious. I think the facts speak for themselves and they are very disappointing. I find it disgraceful that a senior officer and a middle ranking one of some experience could put their careers in jeopardy by tampering with evidence in clear breach of all legal protocols.

“I also find it disturbing that such experienced officers should demonstrate and encourage such prejudice against a child who has every right to wear whatever clothes she wishes and to present in whatever identity she feels comfortable, as she explores her gender problem. Not only that but such homophobic attitudes are contrary to both national and departmental guidelines, as you both well know.

“I have no option but to suspend both of you from active service and to convene an investigation into your conduct which will lead to a disciplinary in due course. It is of course up to Mr Mosse and his family, if they wish to take further action through the courts. If they so chose, any evidence we have here will be available to them.”

“You bastard,” called Burden senior, aiming a punch at Brian, who although probably only half his size and weight, caught the arm and with a quick twist threw the man onto his back. Brian then pulled the blow he’d would normally have followed through to the flattened victim, probably crushing his throat.

The man’s son thought about joining in except the sergeant yanked him back to his seat, which was a shame as Brian would have decked him again. The Chief Constable had dashed round from his desk, “You fool, Burden, don’t you ever learn. WPC Armstrong, arrest Mr Burden and read him his rights. Charge him with common assault.”

The party was over, Burden senior was led away. His career in ruins, his colleague and their two families left in shame.

“Well, Stuart, the ball’s in your court,” said Mr Holiday.

“What’s likely to happen to the two of them?”

“Burden has just ended his career, I will insist he is prosecuted for assault upon a minor. The other, is likely to be sacked too, I don’t want bent coppers.”
Brian found this to be very amusing and sniggered, “What’s so funny young man?” asked the CC.

“Well they were getting at Kylie, and you called them bent,” he waved his hand with a limp wrist and the Chief Constable smiled.

“That wasn’t what I meant and you know it.” Brian shrugged by reply. “That was some move you did on Burden.”

“Nah, just used his momentum against him, easy really.” Brian shrugged again, although he was also grinning with a modicum of pride.

“Would you have hit him in the throat if it had happened in the street?”

“I don’t know, Sir, depends on how frightened I was.” Brian was now really blushing.

“I hope I never frighten you. I’m away from tomorrow for a week, let me know what you want to do, Stuart.”

“What do you think I should do?” asked Daddy.

“That’s for you to decide, but look after this young lady, won’t you?” he patted me on the shoulder. “I think you make a rather splendid girl, and I think you’re incredibly brave doing what you’re doing. It takes real courage.”

When we left, Brian had his arm around me protectively, whilst my parents were deep in conversation. I felt somehow, that the rift between us had healed via the challenge of a common enemy, least I hoped it had. We drove to a pub with a nice restaurant, the one I’d been to before with Daddy. “Steak rolls all round?” he asked and we all nodded.

“What would you like me to do?” Daddy asked me, “you were the offended party.”

“I don’t know, Daddy, but I don’t want the Echo finding out about it and telling everyone, even if my brother’s something of a hero.” I shoved the last bit in to placate the Neanderthal.

“What about you, Brian?”

“It’s over, innit, Dad? You won, and I got to deck a copper, hee-hee!”

“An ex-copper,” said Daddy and Brian shrugged. “Shall we call it a day then?” asked my father.

“I think we should, it could also cost lots of money,” said Mummy, bringing it all down to earth, “and I don’t want any adverse publicity for either of the kids.”

“Okay, I propose a toast to the Mosse family, who beat the bad guys because we worked as a team, protecting each other.” My daddy can be a bit pompous at times, but we knew what he meant.

We had an afternoon in town and Brian managed to con Daddy into buying him a new pair of trainers–they cost a bomb. I had to make do with some new pyjamas to wear to Gemma’s sleepover tomorrow night, plus a new toilet bag in the shape of a bunny rabbit.

When we got home, I went to see Auntie Em and her husband was there; he spends most of his time away, so I got a shock when he opened the door. “Um,” I blushed, “is Auntie Emma there?”

“Em, there’s a young lady at the door for you, are you going out to play?”

“Come in, Kylie,” she called from the kitchen, I think.

“So you’re the famous Kylie?” said Mr Johnson.

“Um,” I blushed and went inside, almost fleeing to the kitchen.”

Auntie Em gave me a hug and said, “How did it go?” Mr Johnson had followed me into the kitchen. “Kylie and her family have been to see the Chief Constable.”

“Oh, right; you move in rarified circles, young lady,” he commented.

“It went okay, they tried to show a fake film to prove we were at fault, but the Chief Constable–he’s nice by the way–had an expert to show it was fake. Then one of them tried to hit Brian.”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Auntie Em.

“It was a mistake though, Brian threw him on the floor and could have killed him.”

“I think that might have been a slight overreaction, Kylie, don’t you?” said Auntie Em.

“What, the fellow nearly died because he was thrown?” asked Mr J, seeking to clarify things.

“No, Brian flipped him over and then could have punched him in the throat and killed him, but he didn’t.”

“I think that might have been a bit OTT, don’t you think?” said Mr J.

“Yes, Mr Johnson, I’m glad he didn’t.”

“Hey, how come she’s Auntie Em and I’m Mr Johnson?”

“Um, “ I blushed.

He was laughing, “Call me Uncle Kit, okay?”

“Okay, um, Uncle Kit.”

“Sarah has missed you today, she was actually looking for you earlier.”

“Was she? Where is she now?” I asked wanting to see her.

“She’s up asleep, she’s teething I think. Look can you keep an eye on her for half an hour while I dash to the shop with Kit? Any probs call this number, or get your mum in. Is that okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine, does Mummy know?”

“I’ll pop across and tell her.” They left and I went up to Sarah’s nursery, she was fast asleep, I checked she was still breathing and sat down on the floor with a magazine I’d brought from downstairs.

When they came back, they thanked me, and Auntie Em gave me a hug and a box of chocolates. I thought I would share them with Mummy, as she’d been sort of involved as well, as my back up.

Daddy went out to get a take away for dinner, to celebrate our victory. I also got a small glass of wine–don’t know how anyone can drink lots of it, it was yucky but I drank it all the same. Brian had a bigger glass and he spent much of the evening blushing, so he’s no hardened drinker either. Daddy buys those boxes of wine, with the tap on them, he says they’re cheaper and just as good. Mummy doesn’t drink very much, just the odd glass with dinner.

In the excitement of the morning I forgot to take my girly pills, so I slipped out of bed and took them before I went to sleep. I went to bed thinking about all those female hormones rushing round my body.

I had some really weird dreams. I mean like, really weird. In one I grew a boob on my head, and everybody laughed at me. It was soooo embarrassing. The only good thing was I could feed Sarah from it, although it dripped sticky milk in my hair.

That was bad enough, but the other one went like this: I was kidnapped coming home from the girls’ school I now went to. Someone nabbed me and pushed me into a car. I was tied up and blindfolded, so I couldn’t do anything about it. When I screamed, someone shoved a gag in my mouth. I was really frightened. I was taken to a factory or shed somewhere, it was pretty dilapidated and manhandled onto an old table. They pulled off my blindfold and then pulled down my knickers and tights. A hand grabbed hold of my dangly bits and a voice said, “Well faggot, you messed up my career, I’m going to mess up yours.” I saw Chief Inspector Burden holding up a carpet knife. He laughed, “Is your brother not here to save you, aww diddums.” The knife flashed and I screamed.

“It’s all right Kylie, it’s just a bad dream,” said my mother’s voice, except I hardly heard it as I was screeching the place down.

“What’s the matter Mum?” I heard Brian say.

“It’s just a bad dream, she’ll be alright in a moment, go back to bed.” I sobbed as she held me and patted my back. “It’s all right, darling, no one’s going to hurt you, Mummy’s here.”

I did eventually go back to sleep, but that last one was so real, I could almost smell his horrible breath. I didn’t tell anyone about them because they would think I was such a wimp, but it did worry me about tomorrow and the slumber party. What if I have a nightmare then? Maybe I shouldn’t go?

I lay awake for a while wondering about that, what were they going to say to the others, especially Maisie Apple. Would any of the others know me from my reputation? Oh goodness, how do I get myself into these situations? Maybe I should ring Gemma and say my sleeping bag caught on fire or something, damn–I still had to get her a card and a present.

Next thing I knew it was morning and I felt like a bit of wet newspaper, “Come on, Kylie, we need to get Gemma a birthday present.”

“Like what?” I asked, “I don’t know what to get her.”

“Ah but I do, I spoke with her mother.”

Sometimes Mummy can be insufferably clever, “Why don’t you go and get it then clever-clogs?” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you say?” said my mother advancing into my bedroom with the sleeping bag.

“I’m still tired, Mummy.”

“In which case you may be the only one who actually sleeps at your party tonight.” The thought of that terrified me. What if I had another nasty dream?

“I don’t think I want to go any more.”

“After I dried that bag for you and spoke with Gemma’s mother, you are going young lady. Now up you get and be quick about it, before Brian wakes up.”

Bonzi I'm so kewl it hurts the Cat, wishes to thank Gabi for translating this episode into English, he had to finish it, her with the can-opener, has a heavy cold and cough and acts as if she's dying!

Totally Insane 20 -Transformations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 20–Transformations.
by Angharad

I washed quickly and dressed, my hair wasn’t too bad, Mummy did it in a braid again, tied off with a pink ribbon. I threw on my undies and breast padding, pulled on some tights, a corduroy skirt and long sleeved top; finally my Ugli boots, which are so like, comfortable. While no one was looking I took my two pills, although my boobs seemed determined not to grow.

Downstairs, I ate my cereal quite quickly and had some juice. “Are you not wearing any makeup today?”

Oops! I forgot, “Yes, I thought I’d have breakfast first; I was, like, hungry.” Mummy gave me a knowing smile as if to say, ‘A likely story.’

I dashed upstairs and did some eyeliner and mascara, and my lip gloss to finish the face painting. Then a quick squirt of my smellies and I ran downstairs again.

“Goodness, Kylie, that was quicker than I can do it, and I’ve had a lot more practice than you.” I smirked back, I was pretty quick with an eyeliner brush. “What about your earrings?”

I still had to wear studs, but there are studs and pretty studs. I had on the boring ones they gave me in the shop when they shoot them through your ear lobes–sounds awful, doesn’t it? It is, loads of pain, blood everywhere–hee hee. It hardly hurts at all, mind you there’s a boy at our local supermarket and he has these things like washers in his earlobes, with a big hole inside them. They look horrible, you could hang a coat hanger from the hole, and I’ll bet they hurt. Half expect him to have a bone through his nose the next time I see him.

Once again I ran upstairs and changed my earrings to small glittery butterflies, made of silver with sparkly stuff on the front. As I got downstairs, Mummy held out my bag and coat for me. However, instead of following her out to the car, I checked I had my purse, my mobile and my lip gloss.

Mummy had started the car and was shaking her head at me, “Kylie, I know girls are always late, but I had time to wash up as well and still beat you.”

“Ummm, sorry, Mummy; had to check my mobile.”

She shook her head again, muttering, ‘Girls’, which made me smile. About ten minutes later we parked on street just off the main shopping area and not that far from where we experienced the attack by the cop’s kids–as Brian called them.

“What are we buying her?” I asked.

“The sound track from Mamma Mia.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, you’re going to see the video tonight,” she smiled as she dragged me towards HMV.

Why not Led Zep in concert? Or even The Who? Not that dumb Irish guy who used to play James Bond, Pierced Ears, or whatever his name is, at any rate he can’t sing, and I don’t rate his acting much either, but what do I know? I know most of them are old farts, still I suppose Jimmy Page is one now, it was neat the bit he did at the Olympics closing ceremony, do do, do do do–I could hear the opening bars of Whole Lotta Love in my head and was tempted to start playing air guitar, except it might not have gone with the outfit. Why couldn’t we like, get that instead, Early Days the one with the boys in space suits. I’m sure Gemma would prefer it.

While Mummy went to the soundtracks section, I hit the rock section, and went to see if there were any Led Zeppelin CDs we didn’t have. There weren’t, nor Who, Cream or even Iron Maiden, there was a new Guns & Roses, but they said it wasn’t very good and it was still quite expensive.

Mummy had the CD in her hand and was looking at the DVD of the film, no, please no. Damn, she’s buying it, nothing against Abba, but it isn’t Abba singing is it? If it was, maybe. Still it could be Highschool which would be purgatory for a rock chick like me. I giggled when I thought about myself as a rock chick. Only a few weeks ago, I fancied myself as Jimmy Page, now I look more like bloody Duffy, except my hair is redder.

“Is there anything you want to look at?” asked my mother as we joined a queue.

“Not really, thanks,” I kept it polite even if I didn’t appreciate her choice in music–“Hang on, can we get Abba Gold?” I dashed off and managed to find a copy and get back to the queue in time. If she insisted on listening to the Swedish group, at least she could listen to the originals.

Next stop was a card shop and I chose a card for Gemma, it had a cuddly kitten on the front, I know she likes cats, she used to make a fuss of ours when we had one. “Mummy, can we have another cat?”

“I’ll speak to Daddy about it, if we do, you can help look after it.”

“Can it sleep in my room?”

“I don’t know about that, Kylie, they get fleas and things and bring in all sorts of dead or dying birds and rodents.”

Yuck, I didn’t fancy that bit, but a kitten sleeping with me would be kewl. “I’ll train it not to kill those sorts of things.”

“It’s innate in them, they can’t help it.”

“Maybe I can teach it to kill burglars or bent coppers.”

“Oh yeah, Kylie, what are you after, a leopard cub?”

“No, a tiger.” We both laughed. We added wrapping paper to our purchases, and some of those bow things in silvery ribbon, gosh, girl stuff is so much more fussy than boys’. Still I suppose when it’s my birthday, I’ll get the same fuss, so that doesn’t feel so bad. I have changed so much in such a short time–was it already there, or am I making this happen just to keep people happy, meet their expectations? Dangerous territory, stick to choosing the ribbon and bows.

From there it was a quick flit around town, get a new card for my digital camera, it’s only a little one but it takes nice photos, and now I have a couple of gigs memory for it.

Then we went to Morrisons supermarket. More boring food shopping, I yawned. “Oh, you should be enjoying this girl, you have, maybe, seventy years of this to look forward to.”

“But it’s boring, Mummy.”

“You don’t find eating boring, do you?”

“That’s different.”

“Where do you think the meals come from?” Her question got me thinking, apart from the few occasions when I’ve helped make the meals, I didn’t think about it. Okay, I’ve been dragged around a supermarket often enough, we all have, but I don’t think about the meals we’re going to eat and then plan and buy them.

“From now on, I want you to come with me every week unless there’s a very good reason you can’t; then we’re going to plan our menu for the week around what we buy, we can have a draft idea but it still depends upon the stuff being available. So, I want you to tell me what we’re going to eat say, tomorrow and Monday, and make sure we have what’s necessary to cook and eat it.”

“Um,” my mind was blank. “We usually have a roast dinner on Sundays.”

“So which one and what do we need?”

“I don’t know,” I folded my arms and felt stupid and angry, “you coulda, like, warned me.”

“I just did, women are expected to cope, it’s men that flap.”

“Like, a lotta notice.”

“So what are you going to do when your husband or partner arrives on the door step with his boss, expecting to be entertained?”

“Play ‘em your DVD of Mamma Mia?” Well I thought it was a cute answer, she sniggered then frowned at me.

“Be serious, young lady, so what roast are we going to have tomorrow?”

“I dunno, what does Daddy want?”

“Perhaps you should have asked him?”

“Like when, two seconds ago?” I slipped off my backpack and pulled out my mobile. I speed dialled, “Hi Daddy, Mummy wants to know what roast you want tomorrow? Anything? Okay, I’ll see if they have penguin. Bye.”

“Penguin?” My mother’s eyebrows rose so fast I wondered if they were going to lift off her face. “Is that penguin tikka masala?”

“Um,” why does she use these big words, hang on, ticker something, that’s one of those horrid curry things. “No silly, barbecued.”

“We’ll probably have to settle for frozen then.”

“Go on, you’ll be telling me they have ostrich next.” I laughed at her.

“I don’t think they do here, but a farm shop about an hour away does. I bought some when you were very little but you ate it okay. It was too dear to buy again.”

“Yuck, fancy eating ostrich.”

“You eat lamb, they go gambolling about the fields.”

I felt unsure if I could eat lamb again, thinking about my chop bouncing around a field making baa-ing noises. For that matter, the idea of eating a pig or a cow made me feel rather choked too. Thinking about what happens to them made me feel a bit moist eyed. “That’s like eating our cat?”

“In China, they sell kittens in markets for eating, they also eat dogs. They eat horses in France.”

“That is gross, Mummy, can we do roast fish fingers?”

“Don’t be silly, besides the fish were swimming around until someone caught them in a net and killed them.”

“How about cauliflower cheese?” There’s no meat in that.

“The rennet they use to make the cheese comes from calves’ stomachs.”

“What? How do they make the calves sick?”

“They don’t, they kill them and cut out their stomachs.”

Oh my God, I’ll never eat cheese again. “Can we have roast vegetables or bread?”

“Don’t be silly, Kylie, you were eating meat yesterday, so what’s different?”

“I hadn’t like, thought about where it came from.”

“It comes from dead animals. As long as they’ve been raised and slaughtered humanely, it’s okay. It’s the ones that haven’t been who suffer, and that’s wrong. If you really feel it’s an ethical issue, then when you’re a little older we can discuss it. But for now, I want you to see if you can help me select humanely produced meat, and then we can plan what else we need and how we’re going to cook it.”

“Um, okay, I suppose.” I wasn’t at all sure, but it did seem to make some sort of sense.

We looked in the fridges and chose a part leg of lamb. I tried not to think of it bouncing around field. Next she got me to choose the vegetables, from potatoes through to carrots and cauliflower, I also suggested some broccoli.

“Okay that’s one meal, what about Monday?”

“Fish and chips?”

“So you’re going to cook them are you?”

“I was thinking about the take away.” I blushed.

“Ah ah, you have to cook them, from scratch, so no oven chips.”

“Um, okay, can we do a stew or casserole, in the slow cooker.”

“Of course, what would you like to stew?”

“There’s some chopped turkey here, which I think would be nice.”

“Okay, I haven’t done that for a while, what else do you need?”

“Um, onions, garlic, swede, um, dunno, what else would you use?”

“Carrots, celeriac, mushrooms, asparagus–the choice is almost infinite. Are you going to do dumplings?”

“Ooh, I could couldn’t I, if I can remember how Auntie Em showed me.”

“Well Brian is a fan of your dumplings.”

“If I catch Brian touching my dumplings, I’ll slap him one.”

“I think you know perfectly well what I mean, and after last time, I don’t think he’s likely to touch much of you at all.”

“Would you have made him wear a bra?”

“If necessary, yes.”

“Wow,” I blushed, maybe I should provoke him?

We finished all the shopping and went home. I helped Mummy get lunch and Brian helped us eat it. Then I had to go and shower and wash my hair, because Mummy wanted to try something different. I sat with towels wrapped around me as she washed it in some horrible smelly stuff, then conditioned it, then washed it again, or at least rinsed it. Then towel dried and mousse rubbed in, being Jimmy Page was so much easier. Finally, she blow dried it. It was like amazing. It seemed to have increased in volume like twice as much, plus she’d put streaks of bright red and blonde in it, it was mega kewl.

“Do you like it?”

“What? I love it, that is amazing, Mummy.” I threw my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m glad you like it, some of the colour will wash out, the blonde, I’m afraid won’t.”

“That’s okay, it’s really kewl. Gemma will love it.”

“As long as you do, I don’t care about the others. When you get dressed, I’ll show you how to do your party makeup.”

“Is that different from what I did this morning?”

“Oh yes, very different, but we have to be careful or you’ll look too old, you’re still just a kid, should be interesting; show me what stuff you had from Lorraine, from the out of date things.”

I gave her the bag of what Auntie Emma and I had sorted to go with my colouring. She poked around while I dressed. Then she put a towel around me to keep the make up off my clothes.

Firstly, she lined my eyes on the inside of the bottom lids, inside the lashes. This was done in a deep blue colour, then blue mascara and eyeliner to my top lids, then she blended a blue and purple and grey shadow around my top lids up to my eyebrows. She tweezed my brows a little and defined them in pencil, it wasn’t a dark pencil but it made them stand out much more, then she used a chunky brush to apply blusher to my cheeks and cheekbones. Finally, she drew around my lips, then using a brush she painted inside her lines. I looked at the mirror, looking back at me was a girl of about sixteen, if not older. She was a really hot chick.

“Well?” asked Mummy.

“That is, like, amazing, Mummy, I look so different.”

“I’ve gone a bit over the top, but it’s a party after all, just don’t forget to take it off before you go to bed. Take some cleanser and pads with you. Take a change of clothes to wear home tomorrow, as well, and don’t be too late back, remember you have a lunch to cook.”

“I won’t,” I kept staring in the mirror. It was just, like amazing. I had no idea my Mummy knew that much about makeup and things.

“It’s okay, if you like I’ll take a photo for you, unless you’re going to spend all night staring at yourself in the mirror.”

“I didn’t know you were into makeup?”

“Who do you think went to Led Zeppelin concerts with your daddy?”

“What? You’ve seen Led Zep live?”

“Several times, when we could afford it.”

“Geez, Mummy, you really are like, kewl.”

“I’m glad you noticed eventually. I’ll show you some photos one day, when I can find them, I was quite a looker in those days.”

I hugged her, “You still are, Mummy.”

“Is that where you get it from?” she said smiling.

“Like, of course.” We hugged again and laughed, but the funniest thing was yet to happen. Mummy offered to lend me one of her pashminas, she has several. I was parading in front of the hall mirror wearing this shawl, when Brian came in saw me and didn’t recognise me.

“Who’s the babe?” he asked staring at me, then walked straight into the door post, nearly knocking himself out. He gave me a different look when he found he’d been lusting after his sister. Didn’t we laugh though, I was in danger of spoiling my makeup.

To make things even better, Mummy gave me the pashmina, so now I have one–they are brill, I think everyone should have one, and Brian, he has the beginnings of a shiner. Life just couldn’t get any better if it tried.

#####

Thanks to Gabi B for making this readable

Totally Insane 21 - Manipulations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Voluntary

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 21–Manipulations.
by Angharad

I picked up my bag–the overnight one–the sleeping bag and the one containing Gemma’s present. Damn, now she’d be a year older than me. How come I was always the youngest?

I did feel smart in my outfit and makeup, even if it looked like I was going on holiday with all the luggage I had. Mummy dropped me at Gemma’s, waiting until the door opened before she drove off. She wouldn’t do that for Brian, that’s for sure.

Gemma opened the door, “Yes?” She looked at me, then said, “Kylie? is that you?”

“No, it’s Amy Winehouse; who do you think it is?”

“You look, so like, different.”

“Duh! I don’t look that different.”

“You do, I’ll bet no one will recognise you.”

“That might be a good thing. Anyway, I like, came early in case you wanted some help. Oh, happy birthday.” I handed her the bag with her present and card.

“Thanks, Kylie.” She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. “Hmm, somebody smells nice,” she whispered as we pulled apart.

“I always smell nice; cheek, huh!”

“Now, don’t like frown, with that much makeup on, your eyelids will stick to your forehead.” She started to laugh and so did I. “Did you do it yourself?”

“No, my mum did it, she like, used to go to Led Zep concerts with my dad.”

“Yeah, like so what?”

“I think it’s kewl.”

“I’d rather have seen Abba.”

“What? Are you like, crazy?”

“No, but you are. Trust me to invite a rock chick to my slumber party.”

“There’s nothing like, wrong with being a rock chick.”

“Ah, I thought I heard the door; who is this, Gemma?” Mrs Smith nodded at me.

“Kylie Mosse, who did you like, think it was?”

“Kylie? The tomboy? Good lord, you look about sixteen.”

“Yeah, Kylie the rock chick,” said Gemma poking out her tongue at me.

“Rock chick? Explain please, Gemma.”

“She likes rock music.”

“Oh, I see. I wondered if you’d taken up an interest in geology or something.”

“No, Mrs Smith, just the usual things.”

“You’re the first to arrive, Gem, take her bags upstairs. I’ll be helping Daddy with the door lock–what a time for it to jam.” She disappeared before I could say anything.

Gemma took my overnight bag and I took the sleeping bag and we deposited them in the spare bedroom. “I know a bit about locks, maybe I could help?”

“I know you do, that’s what got you into all this in the first place, isn’t it?”

I shrugged, and we both laughed, “Seriously, I might be able to.”

“Yeah, and how do I explain why you know everything about fixing locks?”

“You’ll like, think of something.”

“No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Okay,” I shrugged again, checked my hair and makeup in the landing mirror and followed her downstairs. My curiosity was aroused and I wanted to see that lock.

It appeared we were going to spend the slumber part of the night in their large conservatory. It was the lock on the two patio doors which was causing the problem.

“Can’t you simply put a chain around them with a padlock, or even tie them shut?” said Mrs Smith to her husband.

“I can’t understand why it won’t stay shut, the thing just won’t turn at all.”

“We had trouble like that at home,” I said.

“Oh hello, um, you are?”

“Kylie Mosse, Mr Smith.”

“Oh, Brian’s little sister, you look rather grown up tonight.”

“I helped Daddy fix ours.”

“What did you do?” I knew that it was the spring on the mechanism sticking, but how could I tell him that.

“Can you take the cover off this bit?”

“I could, but I don’t see how that would help.”

“It’s what Daddy did to fix it.” I lied and felt like shouting at him that I knew what I was doing, but would then blow my cover.

“Okay, damn, my fingers are too big for these tiny screws.”

“Can I help?” I snatched the screwdriver from his hand and undid them in a few turns. These doors were cheaper than ours. I removed the cover and careful not to chip my nail varnish, moved the spring with the screwdriver. It was very stiff. “Any WD40?” I asked and he passed it to me. I sprayed inside the lock and particularly around the spring. I took the key and tried the lock, it worked perfectly. I wiped up the excess with a rag he was holding and put the cover back on. “There you go,” I said handing him back the screwdriver.

“What!” he exclaimed as I shut the doors and locked, then unlocked them. “I don’t believe what I just saw.”

“It’s just what Daddy did.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, but did you help him,or did he help you?”

“Mr Smith, I’m an eleven year old girl, what do you think?”

“I think you ought to train in engineering.”

“Yeah, Kylie can build the next power station or whatever, come on, girl.” Gemma tried to drag me away.

“Before you go, think on this, Gemma Smith, Kylie has just saved your party. If we hadn’t been able to fix those locks, you’d have had to sleep in the lounge and there isn’t nearly so much room there.”

“Bob, you don’t think it would be worth showing Kylie that desk drawer that’s stuck?”

“What sort of lock is it?” I asked, pulling my arm free of Gemma’s.

“A desk drawer.”

“Can you show me?”

“Don’t tell me your dad showed you how to undo those?” Bob Smith said, shaking his head.

“No, I learned how to do those myself. Have you got a set of mini-screwdrivers?”

It took me ten minutes to pick the lock, with a screwdriver and paperclip. If I’d had my own kit, it would have been two minutes, but I was trying not to scratch the wood on the front.

“That was amazing,” said Bob Smith. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I have a desk in my bedroom, I lost the key. Brian wanted to break the lock, I knew there had to be a better way. It took me ages, but I learned I could lock and unlock it with a bit of bent wire. I have a bit of a knack with locks.”

“So I see. Thank you very much, Kylie, I can fit a new one there and hope we don’t lose the key.”

“If you do…”

“We certainly know where to come.”

I went into the lounge where there were a small group of girls, one of whom was Maisie McIntosh, Gemma came into the room with another girl. I recognised some of them from being around town, but knew none of them except Maisie and Gemma.

“Okay, everyone, this is Kylie, she was fixing a lock with my dad.” They all gave me a peculiar look.

“His fingers were too big to undo a screw, I helped him.” My explanation seemed to reassure them that I wasn’t some sort of weirdo–even though I was.

“Maisie, Nicola, Suzie, Rosie and Zoe,” said Gemma, introducing me to all the others.

We all chatted about different things at the same time. I had agreed a sort of story with Mummy. I was away at school, although it was getting so expensive, I might have to go to a local state school. She gave me the name of a boarding school and a few other facts like the name of the headmistress, and an English teacher she knew.

It came in handy, within two minutes they’d asked me about school and where I lived. I lied, I hope convincingly, Gemma’s eyebrows raised once or twice as I gave the names of teachers and described the dormitories at the school. My mother went there as a girl with her sister. This was when Gramps was training as a priest, and running a business.

Then just before we went into tea, Nicola asked, “Know anyone who wants a kitten?”

“I do,” I said loudly.

“She’s black and white and called Splodge.”

“She sounds wonderful, I’ll have to check with my mum, but I like, asked her about a kitten, like this morning. You must have like read my mind.”

“Yeah, I like do it all the time,” she laughed. “Who did your makeup, it’s awesome.”

“My mother did, I brought a pile of stuff in my bag. The manager from one of daddy’s shops gave it to me. We can have a play with it later.”

“Oh wow, sounds like fun, your dad owns shops?”

“No, he’s an area manager for a chain of pharmacies.”

“Oh right, kewl.” She wasn’t quite as impressed, not that I really cared.

Gemma was called out to the kitchen and a few moments later called us all in to tea. The table was groaning with all the sandwiches, little quiches and things like sausages and pineapple and cheese on sticks. We all tucked in and hardly made a dent in it.

Finally, when we’d all eaten as much as we could, Mrs Smith brought in a cake with a dozen candles on it and Gemma had to blow them out while we all sang, ‘Happy Birthday to you’.

While we were all still full of food, we were led into the lounge to watch the DVD of Mamma Mia. I was right to be worried about James Bond not being able to sing, but we all sang along with the songs and it wasn’t too bad.

Then we played a few games, had a quiz and did a dancing contest. I came last in that, but it didn’t worry me because I won the quiz–I mean, I like had to, one of the questions was about Jimmy Page–I was the only one who like, knew the answer.

After another round of food and drink, I got the bag of makeup from my case and we played with that for about an hour. I refused to have anyone mess with mine, but I did do some on Gemma, which I thought looked quite good. I told everyone they could keep what they wanted from the bag. That brought squeals of approval from everyone. We used wet wipes to clean off the mess and then we had to sort out the beds.

Gemma’s dad brought out a series of inflatable mattresses, and with an electric pump, blew them up. We each took one and laid it in the conservatory. Then we got our nightwear out from our bags, well all except Suzy, who couldn’t find her keys.

“What am I like, gonna do?” she wailed, close to tears. Mrs Smith came to see if she could help and so did Bob.

He winked at me, “Let me just take this through into the kitchen, Kylie, can you spare a moment?”

It was quite a good lock on a fairly expensive, wheeled case–one of those you pull along with an extending handle. With my own kit, I’d have opened it in a few seconds, with two bits of bent wire it took me a little longer.

“You really are good at this, aren’t you, girl?”

“Am I?” I said noncommittally.

We took the case back to its owner and she was effusive in her praise for Bob Smith.

“I didn’t do anything, it was Kylie’s nimble fingers.”

“How did you do it?” Suzy asked me.

“I dunno, just waggled a bit of wire in it and it clicked.” As I said this, Bob Smith smirked and winked at me. I felt myself blushing.

“So that’s two locks she’s fixed tonight?” said Suzy.

“Actually, it’s three,” said Gemma. “She did the lock on the patio doors, as well.”

“Wow, she’s like, Super Lock Girl,” suggested Nicola. I blushed even more.

Maisie looked at me, “You beat me at badminton the other week, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” I pretended I did it all the time.

“Yes, with Philip Gonnersall.”

“He’s my partner–when I’m home,” I added quickly.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was you. We thought we had you beaten and then you went up a gear and like, thrashed us.”

“Philip is a good player, he usually wins.”

“I’m sure it was you, but you were calling yourself Kate.”

“It’s his joke,” I said blushing.

“Joke?”

“Yeah, the supermodel, Kate Moss. My surname is Mosse.”

“Oh yeah, I like geddit, yeah, Kate Moss, like that’s funny.”

We took it in turns to change in the two bathrooms and the cloakroom. I wore the new pyjamas my mother had bought me. Obviously I had to wear knickers inside them, or some little bulges might show where they shouldn’t be. As regards the lack of bulges higher up would be lost in the looseness of the top. Mummy had bought something quite fashionable and at the same time quite safe.

At ten it was time to go to bed. Of course we all chatted and told all sorts of silly things, but the one which kept me awake for a while was Gemma’s telling of a ghost story, of some monk-like figure who was seen to walk across the graveyard of the church and disappear into the back wall of the church.

That was okay, until she said, “The story is true, they found a decapitated body, or skeleton which they think was the abbot of the priory which was on the site of the church and these houses. He was tortured by Henry VIII’s men and beheaded for resisting the take over of the monasteries.”

“Dissolution of the monasteries,” said Nicola.

“Yeah, whatever,” continued Gemma, “anyway, the monk or abbot is seen regularly about this time of year, ‘cos that’s when they chopped off his head.”

Soon after, the lights went off and we were left lying in the dark to ponder on the ghostly monk.

Thanks to Gabi for corrections, editing, and a £600B loan to The Bank Of England.

Totally Insane 22 - Hallucinations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Sweet / Sentimental

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Other Keywords:

slumber party

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 22–Hallucinations.
by Angharad

Of course, we were all shivering in our sleeping bags–not because it was cold but because of Gemma’s ghost story. Then when someone went, Wooooo, we all squealed and hid inside our bags. The one I was using, Brians’s, was a full adult size so, I just slid down inside it and shivered, with my fingers in my ears.

Did I mention that the rear wall of Gemma’s garden is a boundary wall of the church yard? Well it is, and hence the reason the ghost story was so frightening, it happens, the ghost walks–just the other side of it.

After a few minutes, I got too hot and began to feel smothered in my bag, so I slithered to the top again, just in time for another, Woooooo and we all squealed again. It went quiet for a moment and I wondered if I needed to go to the loo after all. I certainly didn’t want to go on my own. Then there was a knock on the patio door and a rattle as someone tried to get in but the lock held. We all screamed this time, and Mr and Mrs Smith came to see what was happening.

The lights went on and I found the courage with the adults about, to go to the cloakroom. Relieved, I went back to the party, where everyone was wide awake and still chattering.

The adult Smiths were concerned that it appeared as if someone had tried to get in, and were all for calling the police. They were puzzled that the security lights failed to come on. Mr Smith went outside and they stayed off, which annoyed him and disconcerted the rest of us.

He looked about the garden with a powerful torch but there was no sign of anyone, and he wondered if we’d dreamt it. Maybe one or two had, but all of us? Yeah, like we do it all the time–duh! His argument was someone dreamt it and shrieked and then we all did without knowing why.

I knew I’d heard the doors rattle, or at least I thought I did. Maybe it was my dream? Oo-er, I kept quiet when everyone was asking who heard what, especially as one or two weren’t sure they heard the knock and then the rattling.

It looked like it was going to be a night to remember, for all the wrong reasons. It was now one o’clock and we were still talking, or some people were, I’d drifted off a couple of times only to be woken by voices. Geez, teenage girls sure can talk.

A loud knock or bump against the patio doors woke me up, was it a dream or a real noise? “Are you awake, Kylie?” asked Gemma, who was lying next to me.

“Yeah.”

“Did you hear that?”

“I thought I heard a knock, like something hitting the door.”

“Yeah, so did I? Do you think it’s the ghost?”

“I thought they could like, walk through walls and things, so why knock?”

“Oh yeah, I like hadn’t thought of that.”

To be honest, I’d like only just thought of it myself. So what could be the explanation? Gemma and I crept to the window and peered out drawing the curtain just enough to see, except it was pitch dark and we couldn’t see anything.

“What ya’doin’?” asked a sleepy voice.

“We heard another knock on the door.”

“Oh, right,” said the voice and went back to sleep.

Just as we were getting back into our sleeping bags, there was another bang against the door. Gemma and I clutched each other tightly and shivered. Nobody else seemed to hear it. I suppose they were all fast asleep.

“What d’you think it is?” I asked her.

“Like, how do I know?” she replied.

“Well that last one sounded like something being thrown at the door.”

“So why didn’t Daddy find whatever it was?”

“’Cos he like, wasn’t looking for it?”

“If they’d thrown a stone or something, he’d have like seen it on the patio or grass.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“So, Miss Wonderful, unless you can come up with something that disappears, we’ll like, need a better theory.”

“Yeah, like a snowball or something,” I chuckled.

“Oh yeah, like where is anyone gonna get a snowball in the middle of summer? Geez, Kylie, you get some crazy ideas.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I got back into my sleeping bag, and was just dropping off when I saw myself throwing snowballs. I wasn’t very good at it, my hands were too small and I couldn’t throw very far. But Brian was brill, he’d pack the snow down hard until it was like ice, and he could throw accurately for some distance. But it couldn’t be Brian, and there’s no snow. I sat up with a jerk. “I’ve got it!”

“Good, you like, keep it,” said one sleepy voice.

“You woke me up, noisy cow,” grumbled another.

“You got what?” asked a sleepy Gemma.

“Ice cubes.”

“Ice cubes?”

“Yeah, ice cubes.”

“Are you like mental?”

“No, I’m like perfectly sane. But if you threw an ice cube hard at the door, it would either bounce off into the grass, or smash and dissolve, so no one would see it.”

“Wouldn’t it bounce on to the patio,” yawned Gemma.

“Not if you like, threw it at an angle.”

“What about the security light?”

“It isn’t working.”

“It was yesterday.”

“Maybe someone’s tampered with it?”

“What just to like frighten a few schoolgirls?”

“Well if something bangs again, I’m like gonna go out an’ see.”

“What if it is like the ghost?”

“I’ll be back in faster than I went out.”

“Is that like, wise?”

“Can’t you two shut it?” said a grumpy sleepy voice.

There was another bang at the doors. My stomach flipped and I decided I had to go and see what it was. I found the torch, where I’d remembered Mr Smith had left it, and pulled back the curtain. There was no headless ghost visible.
I unlocked the door and stepped out with Gemma hissing, “Be careful,” at me. I scanned the garden, there was no one around unless they were hiding in the bushes, which they could be. Maybe this wasn’t such a clever idea? It felt cold and my teeth began to chatter.

However, my curiosity was piqued and I began searching the patio, there was nothing, except a couple of splashes of water. I suppose they could be melted ice cubes. Then I saw it in the lawn, bits of broken ice, obviously off an ice cube.

I picked it up and went back in to show Gemma my treasure. “Bits of ice cube,“ I said my teeth chattering.

“Yeah, so you’re a clever clogs, what do we like do now?” she asked me.

“Tell your parents if it happens again.”

“They’re like in bed.”

“So am I, so like, shut up,” an angry voice.

“Sorry, Kylie like, just saw the ghost in the garden.”

“What!” squealed the voice and a figure sat up.

“Oops!” hissed Gemma.

“Wossgoin’on?” asked a sleepy voice.

“Kylie saw the ghost,” said someone.

“Aaarrgh!” squealed someone else and hid inside their bag.

“You saw a ghost? Really?” asked Zoe.

“No, I don’t believe in ghosts, and I know what’s been banging on the windows.”

“I thought we’d imagined that.”

“No, someone’s been chucking ice cubes at us.”

“Like, why?”

“Presumably to like frighten us.”

“Stupid boys, I s’pect,” said Zoe.

“Who knew we were sleeping over?” I asked.

“It was like, no great secret, so like, lots of people,” said Gemma.

“Anyone like miffed, at not being invited?”

“What, like a boy?”

“Not especially.”

“Surely that isn’t a girl throwing ice cubes at us?”

“No, but it could be the brother of a girl you didn’t invite.”

“Oh, shit, Emily Richardson, she’s got a brother…”

“An’ he’s a right pig, too;” added Suzie who was now also sitting up.

“Is that Richard Richardson?” I asked.

“Do you know him?” asked Suzie in a surprised tone.

“No, but Brian has mentioned him, they call him, Dickhead Richardson.”

“I wonder why?” asked Zoe.

“We don’t know it is him, it’s all like guessing.” I wasn’t sure we should be condemning someone for nothing.

Just then another, Wooooo was heard. “I don’t like it,” said Rosie.

“It certainly sounds more like a dickhead than a ghost,” said Nicola joining the conversation.

“How do we prove it, then, Lockgirl?” asked Suzie.

“I don’t know, like do I?” I replied feeling peeved.

“How about a photograph?” suggested Nicola.

“Yeah, do you, like wanna stand out there asking them to say, ‘cheese’?” said Suzie

“No, course not,” replied Nicola.

“What if they’re in the church yard?” I asked.

“Yeah, like what if they are?” said Nicola.

“How do you feel about getting our own back?” I smiled.

“I’m not very good at throwing things,” said Rosie, withdrawing into her bag.

“What did you like, have in mind?” asked Gemma.

“We spook the spooks.”

“Like how?”

“We go round the churchyard with a sheet or two and out howl them.”

“No way, I’m like going into a grave yard after dark,” said Nicola.

“Could be dangerous, fall into an empty grave or something,” said Suzie.

“Yeah, one like the local zombie has just risen from,” I chided.

“Yeah, for all I know.”

“You’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

“Yeah, so–they could be real.”

“I suppose they like, have vampire bats in Guilford?” I teased.

“I thought it was Reading,” joked Zoe.

“Nah, they’re all zombies there,” chipped Gemma.

“Look it’s three o’clock, we either go back to bed or do something?” I said feeling fed up with the company.

“Like what, though?” challenged Suzie, “’cos I’m not going round the grave yard.”

“Well have you got a better idea?” I asked.

“Yeah, you go and we’ll stay here and watch.”

“What go on my own?” I spluttered.

“Yeah, why not?”

“You must be joking. I’ll go, but not on my own. Who’ll come with me?” The silence was deafening. I was about to say, they were a bunch of girls, but they knew that. Was my previous lifestyle reasserting itself? Did that mean I had to curtail it a little.

“I’ve got an idea.” I said after feeling things were going to be end in a farce. I found my mobile and speed dialled, the voice the other end was less than enthusiastic.

“Bri, hi, it’s me Kylie.”

“What the hell do you want, it’s three o’bloody-clock.”

“We’re getting some aggro from some lads, we think it might be Dickhead and friends.”

“What, Dickhead Richardson?”

“Yeah, they’ve throwing ice cubes at the windows and making ghost type noises.”

“Ice cubes? I didn’t think he’d be intelligent enough to know the recipe for ice cubes. So, what d’ya expect me to do about it?”

“Help me stop him. Frighten him back.”

“How?” he yawned, and I explained my plan. “Why can’t you do that with the girls?”

“I’d feel safer knowing you were there, and you’d get a chance to get one over on him for a long time.”

“Okay, do your preparation, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Bri.” As I switched off the mobile another cube of ice hit the windows. “Oh, goody, they’re still out there.”

Gemma helped me get ready and we’d just finished as Brian arrived on his bike. “Did you bring it?” I asked.

“Yep, God you look more ‘orrible than usual, Kylie.”

“Thanks, Bri, I can always count on you for compliments.”

“Come on let’s do it,” I said, “before I chicken out.” So we did, and it worked.

The girls all watched from the patio and heard the screams and saw the flashes. Then when we downloaded the films later, we saw that Dickhead had actually wet himself he was so frightened, there was a big dark patch in the front of his trousers.

Needless to say, no one was up very early and I hope Mrs Smith doesn’t miss the old sheet, we used. The Smith adults couldn’t understand why we didn’t wake up until after ten and why we were all still yawning.

Okay, so what did we do? Well, Gemma helped me paint my face and hands white with flour, then we put dark rings around my eyes and drew red marks like blood around my mouth and used a couple of bits of macaroni to make my fangs, then with a sheet suitably covered in what looked like blood, I stumbled around the grave yard groaning and moaning.

The two boys, who been illegally drinking cider, screamed and ran off while Brian, who was watching took some digital photos, including the one of Dickhead losing control of his bladder.

Brian’s reward was copies of the photos, to use as he wished. I didn’t ask too many questions, after all, I hardly felt well disposed to a pair of wasters who’d spoiled mine and the other girls’ beauty sleep–not that any of us really needed it that much, we’re all beautiful already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for express editing and improvements, any mistakes - blame Bonzi.

Totally Insane 23 - Delectations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 23–Delectations.
by Angharad

As I took my leave from Gemma’s, she and her parents came to see me off. Mum had arrived and while she’d been drinking coffee with Gem’s parents Gemma handed me a book. “I think you’ll enjoy this, it’s right up your street.”

Expecting it to a be history of locks and locksmithing, or something similar, I took it. It made me squirm when I looked at the title, Boy2Girl by Terence Blacker. I hastily shoved it in my bag and mumbled thanks.

“Kylie’s a remarkable girl,” we heard Mr Smith saying as we went towards the kitchen.

“Yes, she is,” said my mother obviously trying not to have to explain her agreement.

“She fixed the door lock, opened the desk drawer which had jammed and opened one of the other girls’ suitcase locks.”

“Yes, she’s always had this fascination with locks–I don’t know where she gets it from, although my father always enjoyed fiddling with machines and cars.”

“Is he an engineer?” Mr Smith asked.

“No, he’s a vicar.” After Mummy spoke there was an embarrassed silence, then polite laughter.

“Is your granddad a vicar?” whispered Gemma, sounding surprised.

“Yes, why?” To me it seemed perfectly natural; wasn’t everyone’s?

“Nuthin, just didn’t know.”

“He’s nice, you’d like him, my Nan’s nice, too.”

“Weird, does he like, accept you as a girl?”

“Yeah, no probs–they bought me loads of stuff, including these boots.”

“Kewl.”

“Is that you, Kylie?”

“Yes, Mummy,” Gemma and I walked into the kitchen and sort of joined in the conversation.

“Are you ready?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“Well thank Mr and Mrs Smith for having you.”

I blushed, I’d already thanked them once, but I suppose courtesy is never in large enough quantities. “Thanks for having me, it was a brill party, and the food was excellent.”

“Thank you for coming, Kylie.” Mrs Smith bent down and we air kissed at each cheek, “Come over whenever you like.”

“Like, thanks.” I said and blushed some more.

Mr Smith bent down and hugged me, “You’re a remarkable girl, Kylie, if I have any other locking devices I need help with–I know where to come. Thank you for saving the party.” He kissed me on the cheek, and I blushed even more. Unable to speak with embarrassment, I just nodded my acknowledgement.

Gemma and I hugged and air kissed, and she squeezed my hand–a conspiratorial gesture–she knew something her parents didn’t. “See ya,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Come on, girl,” urged my mother, “You’re cooking dinner, remember?”
I yawned and shook my head, I’d completely forgotten.

On the way home, my mother asked, “Do you know where Brian went last night?”

“Like, how should I?” I replied.

“We heard him come back at four this morning.”

“Visiting with other trolls?” I suggested, while laughing inside.

“I think your father needs a little chat with that boy.”

“He’s alright really, Mummy.”

She stopped the car and felt my forehead with the back of her hand. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

I yawned, “Yeah, why?”

“Hmm, what are you two up to?”

“Huh?” I replied. She continued driving and shaking her head, muttering to herself.

Just before we arrived home, I asked her, “Mummy, if Gramps is a vicar, how come we never go to church?”

She blushed, “We can go if you want, except it’s too late today, unless you want to go to evensong?”

“I just wondered.”

“He brought us up to choose for ourselves, we choose not to go unless of course, I’m at home with them. Your daddy and I, made a similar decision with you two. When you’re old enough to choose if you want to go to church, or take some other religious path, you can.”

“I think I’ll be a muslin, I fancy those nice headscarves.” The car stopped abruptly again.

“The word is, Muslim, and the head scarf is a khimar, unless you mean a hijab or a burkah, which is the dress thing which covers them up completely, except for the eye slit.”

“I think Brian would look good in one of those,” I said blithely and Mummy let out a loud snort.

“It would hide those ridiculous jeans he wears with the crotch around his ankles.” She glanced at me and we both laughed. Poor Brian.

Back at home, while Brian caught up on his beauty sleep and Daddy read the Sunday papers, Mummy and I got the dinner on. I did it all, she just told me what to do. Part of me enjoyed it, I was spending time with Mummy which I loved, and she seemed to enjoy it too–which was special. Being a daughter had its compensations.

We rubbed the lamb with honey and pushed little cloves of garlic inside small snicks in the skin. Then we put it in a hot oven. After this we did the roasties and other veg. Mummy likes parsnips, I think they taste awful, so does Daddy. I mean he thinks they are ‘orrible, too. Brian quite likes them, so we did enough for him and Mummy. They were to be roasted and some grated cheese sprinkled over them. Yuck, cheesy yuck.

I thought glazing was something to do with windows, and I don’t mean that useless computer stuff–according to Mummy, it applies to carrots as well. You learn something new every day.

Something I already knew was how to cut melon into bits, but no, we had to use this scoop thingy to make melon balls–so I learned something else new. My brain was in danger of definite overload. I yawned to communicate its impending shutdown, but Mummy wasn’t having any of it.

“Come on, sleepyhead, you don’t get sympathy for staying up all night and telling each other scary stories.”

How does she know? She went on to tell me. “Remember, I was a girl, as well.”

“Did you have sleepovers and things?”

“Yes, Kylie, we did–I might be old but they had invented sleeping bags when I was young. I had a nice pink paisley one–until the dinosaurs ate it.”

“Nice,” I said as I was beating the sponge mix. “Dinosaurs?”

“You are sleepy, today, aren’t you?” She gave me a little hug and then poured the fruit puree into the dish and I put the sponge mix on top.

While everything was cooking I sat at the kitchen table and I must have fallen asleep because Mummy shook my arm and said, “Kylie, lay the table, sweetheart, and then come and finish the dinner.” I looked up at her and wondered where I was. “Table–it needs laying, you know cutlery–those metal things we eat with. Come on, girl, wake up.” There were downsides to this mother daughter business too. Brian was still in the land of nod, probably dreaming of the nasty things he could do with the photos he’d taken. Here was I, a mere slave in the hot kitchen, not even allowed to rest when I felt knackered. I think I shall become a member of parliament and improve things for girls–bloody boys, they get spoiled. If I hadn’t been so tired, I might have wondered if I’d made a mistake, but if I had, then so had everybody else, including Dr Shrinkwinkle or whatever her name was.

Daddy seemed impressed with the meal, Brian was happily stuffing until my mother mentioned that I’d prepared everything–then he pretended to be sick. Daddy gave him one of his glares, and Brian blushed and behaved himself.

Mummy and I cleared up, and went to sit down and read this book, I was intrigued by it, Boy2Girl. However, I didn’t even get past the first couple of pages before I was asleep. The problem with that was, when I went to bed, although tired, I couldn’t sleep. I was still awake when my parents went to bed. I lay there getting more and more cross, then in desperation, I picked up my book again. If it could send me to sleep once, it might do it again.

That wasn’t to be the case, it was a marvellous story that I didn’t want to stop reading. In the end, I did go to sleep, but only because I couldn’t stay awake to read any longer.

I was probably a bit dopey the next day too. I had to go and see Dr Wassername, the shrink. For a change my appointment was in the morning. Daddy took me, his time is a little more flexible some days than Mummy, who would have to take time off.

Dr Thingamabob, invited us in together. “Kylie, Mr Mosse, do come in. So I can’t be accused of talking to you in secret, I’d just like to hear what your dad thinks of having a daughter.”

My father–who is rarely lost for words–was lost for words. He blushed and spluttered. Eventually, he managed to splutter, “It’s fine, she’s doing really well.”

“Yes, I’m sure she is, but how do you feel about it?”

“It was a bit of a surprise, but she’s still my child, boy or girl, I love her and will always do my best for her.” He was really embarrassed, but he made me feel choked, he’s a splendid dad.

“So it makes no difference to you if she’s a girl or a boy?”

“One or the other, it makes no difference. If she was switching to and fro, I might have more trouble. She reads these books we got through the internet, about some kid called Gaby or Drew. He’s always switching back and fore, and although his dad copes, I don’t know if I could.”

“You would, Daddy,” I said sending him lots of love.

“But it’s not going to happen is it? She’s transgendered, so she’s going to stay as a girl, isn’t she?” I nodded frantically at Daddy to encourage him.

“I don’t know, Mr Mosse, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t and sometimes they do and don’t.” Daddy looked alarmed at this summary from Dr Schlessinger. “It’s a huge decision to make, and once we start hormone therapy, things become less reversible, but as a pharmacist, you’d perhaps know that better than me.”

“When can I start hormones?” I asked.

My father glared at me, and Dr Schlessinger gestured for me to be quiet. “How do you feel about that?” she asked him.

“I’d have preferred to have a normal boy or girl, but if it takes hormones and surgery to make her feel whole, I’m okay with it. What worries me is if she were to change her mind after the event.”

“I won’t, can I have hormones and the operation, like now?”

“Kylie, don’t be silly,” chided my father.

“I’m not, “ I pouted and then felt the tears come. He didn’t tell me off very often these days, one of the advantages of girlhood–the downside was, when he did, I always cried, and got very upset.

They waited until I stopped crying, Dr Andrea handed me some tissues and a drink of water, mainly because I’d given myself hiccups. They did stop eventually.

Daddy was invited to stay if I agreed to it. I did of course and he was surprised, he’d preferred to have waited out in the waiting room or car, partly because he didn’t like doctors and partly because he could have used his laptop and done some work.

“I take it you still want hormones?”

“Yes I do, I want real breasts, not these fake things.”

“Kylie, you are only eleven, many girls don’t start breast development until or after that age. You are still quite young.”

“Okay, do the op then.” I challenged her. My father’s eyes nearly popped out.

“You know we don’t do that until you’re eighteen.”

“They do in Germany, Kim wassername just had it done at sixteen.”

“That’s a bit older than eleven, Kylie.”

“So, I’m just mature for my age.”

“Not that mature,” said Dr Schlessinger, her eyes twinkling.

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me that real girls don’t have vaginas until they’re eighteen?”

“Kylie, you apologise to Dr Schlessinger, this minute. I won’t have this insolence.”

“I’m sorry, Dr Andrea,” I said before once again bursting into tears. Once again, they waited for me to calm down.

“Kylie, there are two very good reasons for not doing the operation too young. Firstly, you could change your mind, youngsters often do. Secondly, the vaginal tissue after surgery contains scar tissue, which doesn’t grow or stretch, but the rest of you does, so you’d need to have further surgical adjustments every so often. That wouldn’t be very desirable now, would it?”

“No, I’m sorry, Dr Schlessinger.”

“You are still very young, and you are on anti-androgens, you have all your life ahead of you. I’ll make a deal with you, if you still want hormones after you have lived without problems for a whole year, then I might prescribe some for you. How’s that?”

“A whole year?” I gasped, “That’s like…”

“Three hundred and sixty five days,” said Daddy.

“A lifetime,” I said changing my mind from what I was going to say, because I was going to swear.

“It’s my best offer, I’m afraid, Kylie, I have seen dozens of children in your position, boys who make quite presentable girls and the odd girl who seemed more boy than most of the young males I know. I’ve seen them absolutely adamant that they want surgery and hormones, just like you do and then a year or so along, they change their minds and revert back to their previous gender. So you can see we have to be so careful. It isn’t as dangerous for boys, because until they’ve been on hormones for some time, the changes are reversible, but for biological girls, having a deep voice and facial hair start, it could be rather a problem if they want to change back.”

“But I know I won’t, I want to be a girl, like for always.” I felt my frustration well up inside me and more tears fell, “Why don’t you believe me?”

“I do believe you, Kylie, I just don’t want to make any mistakes. You’re a lovely young woman and I do believe you will finally transition into a full woman as you grow up, however, we do have some guidelines and I have to stick by them. Even giving you hormones in a year is putting myself in possible danger.”

She put her hand on my shoulder, “At your age, sweetie, nothing can happen fast enough, when you grow up, sometimes you’ll find they happen too quickly for comfort, eh, Mr Mosse?”

“Absolutely,” he said nodding.

“Also, in a year’s time, I shall know you much better and you’ll know yourself a lot more as well. Let’s face it, Kylie, you haven’t lived as a girl for more than a few weeks, have you?”

“No, doctor.” When she said it like that, my earlier outburst seemed rather stupid.

“So, I’d like to see how you cope with going to school as a girl and mixing with other girls.”

“Okay, I s’pose I can wait,” I said sulkily.

“You don’t have much choice, do you?” said the good doctor.

“No, I s’pose not, but it isn’t fair.”

“Kylie, don’t keep on,” asserted my father.

“But if I had an illness, Dr Andrea wouldn’t hold back the pills then, would she?”

“That’s a very good point, Kylie. Do you see your situation as an illness?”

“No, course not, I don’t feel ill or anything.”

“So it isn’t an illness?”

“No.”

“More a lifestyle choice?”

“Erm, I don’t know what you mean?”

“You prefer to live as a girl and have people treat you as such?”

“Erm, yeah, I s’pose so. Yeah, course I do, I am a girl.”

“So it’s about identity and lifestyle?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I felt she was trying to trip me up, which was unusual, normally I thought of her as on my side.

“So, if it’s not an illness, but more a question of identity and lifestyle choice, why are you seeing a doctor?”

What could I say? I didn’t really understand what she was saying, I felt betrayed, I didn’t feel ill until just now, and now I felt awful, like I wanted to die. I burst into tears, she put out her hand to comfort me and I stepped away from her, I didn’t want her near me.

“Sorry, Kylie, I had to show you that you aren’t as grown up as you think. There are all sorts of pitfalls along the way. I didn’t mean to upset you, but you need to understand that none of this is straightforward, everyone of my child patients feels slightly different about their situation or themselves. So I have to have some rules that keep me on the straight and narrow.

“To answer my own question, there is no answer which is right or wrong. Some people think it’s a lifestyle choice, some think it’s a medical condition, and for that reason it gets into a large book called the DSM —iv, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association. It happens to be a very influential book and thus affects the way medical services in this country deal with transgenderism. Do you understand me?”

I didn’t, nor did I trust her anymore. She was there to catch me out. I shook my head. Dr Shrinkwhatever looked at Daddy. “I’ll explain it when we get home, kiddo. Okay?” I nodded to him, tears were still rolling down my face.

“I suppose you don’t feel like coming again, do you?”

I shrugged and then shook my head, no. “I hope you will, because, you make a very passable female, and I do believe you in that you do think you are really a girl. If you still feel the same in a year’s time, we can talk about the hormones again. Is that okay?”

I nodded, but I was no longer listening, I wanted to go home and cry and cry.

“Will you come and see me again?” asked the doctor. I shrugged. She looked at my daddy, who nodded. “Two weeks?” He nodded again. “There will be no more nasty surprises, I promise you.” Her words fell on stony ground, I was no longer listening and no longer wanted to be there. Daddy put his arm around me, and I clung to him all the way back to the car.

This text has been duly Gabified, or was it edified? Oh maybe it was edited, yeah that's the word. Diolch Gabs. Thanks to Tricia P for recommending Boy2Girl which I thoroughly enjoyed reading.

Totally Insane 24 - Reservations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 24–Reservations.
by Angharad

While driving home Daddy remarked, “That was unexpected.”

I was staring out of the window and not really listening. My eyes were red and my mascara was probably over half of my face.

“Kylie, I’m talking to you,” he complained.

“Um, what? Sorry, Daddy, I was miles away.”

“I said that interview was a bit unexpected–I don’t mean the appointment, but the manner in which Dr Schlessinger conducted it. I thought you two liked each other?”

“So did I,” I sniffed and continued gazing out the window.

“Will you go and see her again? You have an appointment.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I trust her any more.”

“I think I can see why,” he patted me on the knee, “We’ll see what the boss thinks about it.” I looked a little confused at him. “The boss, your mother–you surely didn’t think I was in charge, did you?”

I smiled at him, I’m sure he was only trying to make me feel better.

“That’s it, keep smiling, you’re a pretty kid when you smile.” I smiled again, then wondered if that meant I wasn’t when I didn’t smile? My mind went back on autopilot.

“Would you like to go for lunch somewhere?”

“Um–what,? Daddy.”

“Kylie, just because you’re a pretty face doesn’t mean you can’t have any brains as well, just try and focus them for a moment–if you can. I asked if you’d like to go for lunch somewhere?”

“I don’t know, Daddy, I feel a mess and my makeup is all over my face.”

“It’s only eleven o’clock, I’ve got some phone calls to make, so you have an hour to tart yourself up. Go and clean yourself up and put on a nice dress and I’ll treat you to lunch.” When I dithered as we came through the front door, he slapped my bottom and told me to, ‘Go and get ready, because he could taste a steak roll already.’ He wasn’t going to listen to my moans and groans, so I did as he said.

I washed my face and redid my makeup, adding some eyeliner and a more noticeable lip gloss. I also put my hair in a plait, which I was doing much more easily than before.

As he said dress, I put on a skirt and top and used my boots with the inch-high heel, they made me feel much more grown up. Daddy was still on the phone, so I gave myself a squirt of perfume and then cleaned and painted my nails. I smudged one so had to do it again, by which time it was midday. They had just dried when he called me down as he was ready to go.

“Don’t tell your mother we went out to lunch, she’ll make me take her out more often and she eats more than you,” he said winking at me.

“I’ll keep mum,” I said smiling back.

“No, I keep Mum, and she costs me a fortune.” He made a funny face and I laughed, it felt much better as I began to throw off my miseries from the morning. “Steak roll?” he asked as we went into the pub.

“Please,” I answered and went to the table in the corner. The pub was filling up and we only got that little table because someone else had just left it. I collected up the dirty plates and glasses and put them on a neighbouring table, so we wouldn’t have to sit amongst them.

Daddy came back with a Guinness for himself and a cola for me. “I spoke to Dr Brown about this morning’s experience.” I felt surprised, did he have to tell anyone except Mummy? “He said he was very surprised that Dr Schlessinger had been so off-hand with you. He said he’d have a think about an alternative doctor if you want one.”

“Thank you, Daddy, but shouldn’t we wait to speak to Mummy first.”

“Of course, but you’re the patient, not your mother. So if you’re not happy, we change things.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“That’s okay, you’re my little girl aren’t you, I have to look after you–it’s what Dads are for.”

I smiled at him and felt choked. He’d never have made this fuss of me as a boy, of that I was certain. I felt my eyes get a little moist and it was only the arrival of our food and the distraction it offered, that I didn’t start sniffing again.

I struggled to finish the roll, and only did so because I knew he’d be disappointed if I didn’t–being a girl was a real mixed blessing. “Oh look,” he said, “they have apple pie and cream, I think I’ll have some of that, shall I get you one as well?”

I shook my head, I felt so full. “Sure?” he asked and I nodded that I was completely sure. “Oh well, your loss.” He went to order. He came back and we chatted some more. I was sure that despite my declining his offer, he’d ordered me a piece of pie. I was surprised when the waitress came back with just one portion, with a dish of ice cream. I glared at him, “Go on, I know you love ice cream, I even got them to put some chocolate sauce on it for you.”

I didn’t think I could force it down, but I did, and there was room for more. However, I stopped while I was ahead. “Are you going into Emma’s this afternoon?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think we arranged anything.”

“Do you want to, or would you prefer to be on your own?”

I shrugged my reply, I didn’t care.

“Kylie, I don’t like to see you like this. If you want, you can come around with me, but you’ll have to sit in the car quite a lot.”

“No, Daddy, I’ll go home.”

“Sure? I can phone Em if you want.”

“No, ‘t’ sokay, I’ll be all right. Actually, I feel quite tired.” I yawned.

“Oh don’t start thaaaaaat,” he said, yawning himself, “damn, now you have me doing it.”

I grinned, my eyes were a bit wet through my yawning, and he grinned back at me and poked out his tongue. I did the same back to him and we both laughed.

He took me home and went off to do his work, I knew he’d be late because he’d have to catch up on the time he took off this morning. He spoiled me, because I was suffering from a mental illness, least that’s what Dr Wassername said. I was bonkers. Funny I didn’t feel particularly barmy, but maybe that just proved I was; after all, she’s the expert, her and that American book, what was it called, some sort of annual, like my pile of Rupert Bear ones upstairs. Mummy told me to look after them because they could be valuable one day, as long as they were in good condition. She has a pile of old books from her childhood, she used to laugh when I read them–Judy, and Bunty Annual. I used to like reading them, I’m too old now–perhaps I’ll get one down and make sure.

“Well look at you?” My mother was chuckling at me; I had fallen asleep on the sofa while reading a 1979 Judy Annual. I blushed and yawned.

“Sorry, Mummy, I fell asleep, I meant to have the kettle boiling for you.”

“Goodness, Kylie, I haven’t seen these books for years.”

“Sorry, Mummy.”

“What for?”

I burst into tears, “For taking your books without asking.”

She hugged me and put her arm around me, “You silly goose, you can always read my books, maybe I should pass them on to you anyway–after all, you’re the girl of the house now.”

I felt secure in her arms and cried some more, simply because I felt safe and I didn’t have to hold back any more. When she calmed me down, we made some tea and seated at the kitchen table, she asked how I’d got on that morning.

“Dr Shrinkle-wotsit, got cross with me, she told me I was a mental case, and she’d give me hormones next year if she like, felt like it.”

“Your father called me at lunch.”

“But he was with me at lunch?” I looked at her in astonishment.

“He called from the pub, he told you he’d gone to the toilet.”

“Oh yeah, he did go just after we’d got there.”

“He told me what had happened. So how do you feel about it?”

“I don’t wanna go there again if she’s just like, gonna put me down.”

“You were getting a bit twitchy.”

“I know, I know, but I want boobs like the other girls.”

“Kylie, you’re eleven, not fifteen. I didn’t have breasts at your age, neither do most of your contemporaries.”

“Gemma does, I’ve felt them.” Oops, that wasn’t supposed to come out like that. Mummy looked shocked.

“Is that what you were doing at her sleepover? Feeling each other’s chests?”

“No, Mummy, I meant when we hugged, they pressed into my chest.”

“If they pressed into your chest, they are probably as fake as yours.”

“Why?” I pouted, “When you hug me, yours poke into my chest.”

“Kylie, I’m a grown woman who has breast fed two children, I am somewhat better endowed than an eleven…”

“She’s twelve now,” I interrupted.

“Correction, twelve year-old girl. So will you be one day.”

“When though?”

“I don’t know, Kylie, look you have the rest of your life to have boobs, when you do have them, you’ll find they are a mixed blessing, so is wearing a bra.”

“I’d love to have to wear a bra, instead of these stupid foam things.”

“I said things like that when I was your age, nowadays, I can’t wait to take the blessed thing off. Same with these wretched shoes–and I know you can’t wait to wear heels.”

“Don’t you like being a girl, Mummy?”

“I’ve only ever thought about what it’s like being a man when I am on my period–stomach cramps and pain, plus all the mess–is a real nuisance. Sometimes, when I have to wear some stupid bit of clothing because your Daddy wants me to look good in front of his boss, or wear stupid shoes and he wants to dance all night. Then when men overlook my opinion because I’m a woman, that irritates me like crazy. You’ve got all this to come, my little lambkin, only you’ve chosen it, I didn’t.”

I hugged her tightly and felt very anxious, this girl stuff sounded worse than being a boy, and I’d already failed at that. I had to succeed at being a girl, I just had to.

“Are you still sure you want to be a girl and grow breasts and wear ridiculous clothes and shoes?”

I paused for a moment, then nodding my head, I said, “Actually, yes I do.”

She hugged me, “Kylie, if you’d been a boy of any sort, you’d have run off screaming. I’ve known for a long time that you were struggling as a boy, although seeing you as a girl the first time surprised me, it didn’t shock me. Now I’m as sure as I can be that you really are as much a girl as ever I was.”

I hugged her back, “I know that now, Mummy, but I didn’t before. But Dr Andrea, thinks I’m a nutcase.”

“Why do you think that?”

“She told me so, it’s in some big American book she has.”

“After your father rang, I called her to ask her what happened. She was very sorry that you had reacted badly to what she said and she apologises to you. She’s had problems with another patient demanding things and when you appeared to be doing so, she decided to close you down.”

“If she was really sorry, she’d give me hormones.”

“You’re too young for hormones, she told me she’d consider them after she’d known you for a year, and that is quicker than the usual clinic, in some places you’d have to wait until you’re sixteen or eighteen before they start oestrogens.”

I was horrified. Eighteen! God, I’d be nearly as old as Mummy. Maybe I’d better stick with the devil I know and get them in a year’s time.

“Oh-oh, it’s a meeting of the local coven,” said Brian cheekily as he breezed in through the kitchen door. “What’s for tea, ladies?” He went to the fridge and pulled out a can of cola and after cracking the ring pull, gulped it down and burped noisily.

“Brian, you are disgusting,” chided my mother, exactly the reaction he wanted to provoke, he laughed and disappeared upstairs. “One day, I shall murder that boy.”

“He’s all right really, Mummy, he just likes to wind you up.”

“You’ve changed your tune, a week or two ago you were hoping he’d end up in a bra and knickers.”

“Okay, so maybe we understand each other a bit better now.”

“I think I need to sit down,” she said feeling her forehead with the back of her hand, “I’m hallucinating, I thought I heard you say you understood each other. A girl and a boy, brother and sister understanding each other–that’s like the first time since Adam and Eve.”

“That’s just ‘cos you read all those silly books, you know, Men like Mars and Women like Bounty.”

She roared with laughter, “Kylie, you are so funny.”

“Why, what did I say?”

“The book is called, Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus.”

“Oh, well you knew what I meant,” I blushed, it had puzzled me as a title but confirmed my own feelings because I’ve always liked Bounties more than Mars bars.

“I did indeed, come on, go and change quickly and we’ll do the dinner together, then I’ve got some marking to do.”

We had one of my favourites, egg and chips, scrummy. Brian wolfed his down and then started pinching my chips. The only problem is that the salt on the chips makes me thirsty, so I had to drink an extra cup of tea.

The phone rang and Brian almost jumped over the table to answer it. He came back with a face like thunder, “It’s Gonnersall for you, don’t be all night.”

I went into the lounge to talk to Philip. “How’d you get on with the shrink, did she give you the pills?”

“No, she gave me a telling off.”

“What for?”

“For asking for the pills.”

“Just as well I got you some then, wasn’t it?”

“Looks like.”

“Are you taking them?”

“ ‘Course I am.”

“Okay, I’ve found some more, two more packs. I’ll bring one round tomorrow.”

“Can you leave it a bit longer, I’ll tell you when the others have all gone.”

“You’re not takin’ ‘em, are you?”

“I am, I’ve taken three or four so far.”

“Only three or four, I gave them to you two weeks ago. Geez, Kylie, you’ll never have boobs.”

“Mummy says I will, and because she’s got big ones, she said I should, too.”

“Oh yeah, my bimbette with big bazookas, love it.”

“Who are you calling a bimbette?”

“Uh, nobody, I said nymphette .”

I didn’t believe him, but he had some more of the magic pills. My quandary was, what would happen if they found out I was taking them? It wouldn’t be good.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, you coming around?” I asked.

“Oh, I nearly forgot, there’s a badminton match tomorrow, so bring your frilly knickers and your racquet. We’ll collect you at half six.”

“Gee thanks for all the advance warning.”

“Sorreeee for breathing,” he snapped back.

“You’d better keep doing it, Philip Gonnersall, just so I can kiss you and take your breath away.”

“Wow,” he said, “I can’t wait.”

“Nor me,” I said giggling. I handed the phone back to Brian who snatched it and snarled at me. I didn’t think trolls could do that.

Mummy was just finishing the dishes when I went back to the kitchen. “So, are you going to see Dr Schlessinger again?”

“Looks like I don’t have much choice.”

“And you’ll wait another year for the oestrogens?”

“Like, do I have much alternative?”

“I suppose not. I’m sorry that you feel things aren’t progressing as fast as you’d like them to, but in reality, you’ve come such a long way in such a short time. Some people take years to get where you are. In a couple of months, you’ll be starting school as a girl. I think you’re doing so well.”

“Hey, Sis, can you sew my jeans? I’ve split the seam again.” A pair of Brian’s jeans flew across the kitchen landing on the floor in front of us.

“Don’t touch them,” I said to Mummy who’d stooped to pick them up, “You aren’t wearing a biological warfare suit.”

She giggled and picked them up anyway. “Better get the sewing basket, young lady, I think I know what you’ll be doing for the next half an hour.”

“’Urry up, Ky, I’ve got a date in twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” I looked up from threading the needle, “You’ll be lucky, bruv.”

My mother cackled from somewhere behind me. “We’ll make a housewife of you yet, Kylie Mosse.”

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks to Gabi for express editing, and to Bonzi for keeping out of the way during the scribbling of this.

Totally Insane 25 - Aspirations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 25–Aspirations.
by Angharad

My fingers were quite sore when I finished sewing Brian’s jeans. How does he split them, he wears these horrid loose things which pool around his knees and show his underpants at the top. If he coughed, I suspect they’d fall down, his jeans–not his boxers.

I don’t think I’d want to wear boy clothes again, not that my ‘rents would consider letting me, anyway. They are convinced I’m a girl, I think I am too, although maybe with less certainty than either Mummy or Daddy. It seems everyone wants me to be a girl or thinks I should be one, from Dr Shrink-thingie, to Philip. He seems to want me to be a big-breasted bimbo, who presumably is also sex crazed. In his dreams. In mine, I see all sorts of embarrassments as people find out about my previous life, especially when I start school. Is that another difference between boys and girls, what they dream about?

Talking of school, I’ve been doing some homework before I go to bed. I wish I didn’t have to, I’d rather redo my nails which I chipped when I had to help dad with the garage door lock. Funny isn’t it that my father has to come and get his daughter to undo a lock? Well I think so.

In bed and reading a history textbook–I shall be asleep in seconds, either that, or very knowledgeable about the ancient Egyptians. Did you know they used to mummify cats, which they had killed, so they became votive offerings to the gods and goddesses. In doing so the cats became deified themselves. Four thousand years later and the Victorians were using the mummified moggies as fertiliser. Ironic, innit?

I hope modern people don’t do such awful things, although the Chinese and Koreans eat dogs and cats–yuck, how could they? Sometimes I think I’ll go vegetarian, the thought of killing anything just for me to have a meal, is horrible. Then I smell bacon cooking, and all my resolve goes out the window.

I wonder if this could happen with my new found femininity? Suddenly, something happens which reminds me of what it is to be a boy and I want back in trousers. Except all the things I enjoyed doing, I can do just as easily as a girl. I’m a girl locksmith, I ride a girl’s bike, I play badminton in skirts–that reminds me, we’re playing tomorrow. I can kiss Philip, hmm, I didn’t want to do that before, so I must have changed or I was gay beforehand and didn’t know it. But, I don’t want to be a boy and kiss him, it has to be as a girl–which I’m happily stuck as, anyway.

My ‘rents aren’t too keen on the idea, and neither is Brian, although he did save both of us from beatings a few weeks ago. He likes a good scrap, I’d rather kiss people or run away. Perhaps I’m a coward, but Mummy says it takes lots of courage to do what I’m doing. That Chief copper, said something similar. I don’t see it like that, but then I’m crazy, Dr Shrinklewinkle said so, and so did the ‘Mericans, except most of them are crazier than I am. Don’t they realise how dangerous it is driving on the wrong side of the road? I know foreigners do it, but well, they’re foreigners, so what do you expect?

What was the name of that book, diagram and statistics annual? I’ll stick with Rupert Bear or Judy, now I can openly read Mummy’s collection, that’s great; before, I had to do so on the sly, in case Brian or Daddy saw me.

I woke up to a lovely morning, the sun was shining and the birds were twittering. I didn’t know they had computers–hee hee, my little joke. I like these jammies Mummy got me for the sleepover, they’re really comfortable; in fact I think most girls clothes are more comfortable, except possibly bras–they either slide up my chest and try to strangle me, or leave red lines around me. Maybe when I actually have something to hold in them, it’ll be different. I’m still going to keep saving for implants, just in case it’s too long before I get the magic pills. Even then it’s not guaranteed that I’ll grow anything worth having, still when I look at the supermodels, they have chests as flat as the super athletes. Paula Radcliff, is hardly busty is she? Neither are Vickie Pendleton the cyclist nor Darcy Bussel the dancer. So do I need to be a couch potato to grow boobs? I hope not. So I’ll keep saving my pennies.

I’ve decided that I won’t take any more of the pills Philip got me. I’ll tell him I’m taking them, but I won’t be. When he complains, I’ll tell him I’m just skinny, like my namesake–model Kate Moss.

I showered and dressed, Mummy was already downstairs and Daddy had gone to work early, he had a long way to drive apparently, to go to a meeting. I don’t think I’d like to do his job, but then I don’t fancy being a teacher either, although I quite like baby-sitting. I love sitting for baby Sarah, but she is so nice. I’m going to see her shortly, Auntie Em is looking after me today. I like her too, she’s much less strict than Mummy, although, I tend to behave for her anyway because I want to keep seeing her and Sarah.

I wore a skirt and top with lacy tights and my red shoes. They have a four centimetre heel, which makes me feel grown up. The skirt is red with blue squiggles on it, and I’m wearing a blue top which is nearly the same shade as the squiggles. Clever eh? I’m quite coordinated.

I had to rush, Brian was in the bathroom and I wanted to do my makeup. I know I’m only eleven, but I’m allowed to wear it, well some of it, my mascara and lip gloss. Oh hurry up, Brian.

I spent an hour doing his wretched jeans last night and all he said was, ‘grunt, grunt,’ like some two legged pig. I remember a geography teacher saying that some of the Polynesians were cannibals and called white explorers, ‘long pigs’ because we tasted like pig meat. Eeeewww, what a thought. “Come on Porkie,” I said quietly to the bathroom door.

I didn’t have my bracelet on, so I went back to my bedroom to get it, it’s one my grandmother gave me, a bangle sort. It has a safety chain, which Sarah, finds fascinating when I play with her. When I change her, I take it off, I don’t want poo on it–eeewwwch!

Finally, Brian finally emerged from the bathroom, “You took your time,” I said to him.

“Use the bog downstairs, then,” was his oh-so-genteel reply.

“I can’t; my make up is in here.”

“Well don’t leave it in there, then.”

“If you didn’t spend so much time squeezing zits…” I shouted back at him, and had to dash into the bathroom and lock the door as he chased me, making all sorts of threats. I sat on the loo and giggled, while he banged on the door–as if I was going to open it–stupid boy.

The mirror was all steamed up, and I had to open the window to let the humid air out, sometimes the extractor fan doesn’t do such a good job, but then Porkie was in here for ages using all the hot water. Daddy says it’s like a Turkish bath after Brian’s been in the shower. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been to Turkey, although I’ve eaten a few.

I heard the back door slam and I knew it was safe to come out of hiding. I took my makeup and left it in my bedroom, maybe Brian was right, I shouldn’t keep it in the bathroom, but the light is better in there, and Mummy does hers in there too, but he can’t grumble to her.

Despite the fogged up mirror, I hadn’t made too bad a job of it. I grabbed my coat and bag, plus my school bag and trotted across to Auntie Em. I heard my shoes clopping along as I walked and it felt reassuring; only girls’ shoes clop like that.

I rang the door bell, while trying to stare down the thorn bush I’d recently examined a little too close for comfort. Auntie Em opened the door wearing rubber gloves. She was rinsing out Sarah’s nappies before they went into the washing machine. Eeeww, not the nicest job in the world, even if it was for the nicest baby.

“Put the kettle on, Kylie, will you? I need a coffee after this little lot.” I did as she asked and made her a coffee and myself some tea when it boiled. “Ahh, that is so good. I’ve been sorting the washing for the last half an hour, I meant to do it yesterday, but you know what it’s like?”

I nodded, “Yes, Brian caught me yesterday , I had to sew his jeans where he’d ripped them again. I don’t know how he does it, I mean they’re like down round his knees most of the time.” I rolled my eyes and Auntie Em laughed.

“That’s boys for you, mind you they come in useful at times.” She sipped more of her coffee, “Can I ask you a favour, Kylie?”

“Yes of course, Auntie Em.”

“It’s our wedding anniversary on Friday, and I wondered if you could sit for me.”

“Um, I’d love to, but am I actually old enough? I mean how late are you likely to be?”

“No, it’s not an evening thing, it’s a lunch, Kit wants to take me out for lunch, so a couple of hours during the middle day. I’d be everso grateful.”

“I’ll have to check with, Mummy, but yes, I’d love to look after Sarah.” I really did enjoy looking after her.

“Okay, when you finish your tea, can you fill her bath and then go and get her?” I finished my tea in record time and after putting on my pinny, did the bath and checked the temperature, then went for Sarah who was still in her cot.

I brought her back, stripped her, cleaned up the poo she’d done, it was yel–nah, too much detail. Then I dipped her in the bath and she giggled and splashed all the time. She doesn’t like having her hair washed very much, so I try to make a game of it. There weren’t too many tears this time and she was soon back to splashing and laughing. I’d have been soaked without my apron.

I lifted her out on to my lap, upon which I had a towel. Then I quickly wrapped her up and took her over to the changing mat and dried her properly, talking and playing with her the whole time. She giggled, cooed, squealed and shrieked with laughter. She also weed, so I had to clean that up quickly. Then it was creams on her bum and so on, and lift her gently on to the nappy complete with liner, pin it together, rubber pants on. I paused, Auntie Em handed me a vest, then a little white dress which was more of a challenge than a babygro, I had to do some poppers up on it’s back. After that came tights, they were a real test but between us, Sarah and I managed them.

Auntie Em had watched me the whole time, but I’d done everything myself, and the reward, apart from some smiles from Sarah, was to give her her bottle. I wrapped an old nappy around her instead of a bib, which Auntie Em gave me, and then after sitting down and getting her comfortable, I gave her the bottle.

“You’re becoming quite the little mother, aren’t you?” said Auntie Em. I suppose it was a compliment, at least I took it that way. “Any babies you have will be well looked after.”

“I can’t have babies, can I? I’m a boy remember?” I felt a tear dribble down my face. I continued to put Sarah into her pram as Auntie Em had asked me.

“Oh, Kylie, I really did forget. That was cruel of me, but I genuinely forgot, it feels as if you’ve always been a girl.” She hugged me and apologised. My tears didn’t last long.

“You look very smart today, how about we take Sarah out for a bit of an airing? I need a few things too.”

I checked my face in the mirror, my mascara hadn’t run, so I was lucky and my eyes weren’t too red either. I redid my lip gloss and watched while Auntie Em, combed her hair and put some lipstick on, almost without looking. I suppose she’s been doing it longer than me.

A couple of minutes later we were walking down the road our shoes clopping along together. I felt quite smart in my outfit, although I hadn’t walked very far in the shoes before and hoped they’d be comfortable if we went any distance.

Auntie Em, had me pause outside the little shop. “I need some carrots and onions,” she said and disappeared inside. One or two people walked past and glanced in the pram, on to which I held tightly, and it’s precious cargo.

I heard voices and out came Auntie Em, with Mr Papogopolis who wanted to see the baby. “Ah, two pretty ladies and a beautiful baby. A lovely day for a walk?”

I nodded and smiled.

“Ah, yes, the newest young lady in the road. You look well.”

I blushed and thanked him. “This is my assistant, Kylie, who will make a wonderful mother one day. She bathed and dressed Sarah, and gave her her bottle–all very competently.”

“Ah, so sweet, a bit more ladylike than fixing locks, no?”

I blushed, “I still like playing with locks, Mr Papogopolis.”

“You do? Okay, you come back later, I got one stuck at the back of the shop. You wanna try and free it?”

“Yes please.”

“I thinka you better change outta your pretty dress, it coulda be dirty job.”

“Okay, Mr Papogopolis, I’ll see you later.”

We walked on, the onions and carrots stored in the rack under the pram. “You are in demand, young lady.”

“Looks like,” I said and blushed.

We walked for about half an hour, well really it was a stroll and then went back to Auntie Em’s where she was making a beef casserole for dinner. I helped her and she showed me how to prepare the meat and the vegetables to seal in the flavour. It wasn’t school work, I know, this was enjoyable–and I was learning some useful skills.

After a lunch of beans on toast, which I cooked–okay, cordon blue it wasn’t, but I am only eleven and a half, well nearly three quarters–and I did it all myself, without supervision, I went home to change.

I slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and my pink anorak thing. I took my bag with me and of course my lock kit, which I carried in a larger bag. It got heavy by the time I got to the shop.

“Ah, Kylie, you come-a to do the lock?”

“Yes, Mr P.”

“It’s througha here,” he showed me. It was on his back door, a deadlock with mortise. This would take some time. I grabbed an old wooden chair and sat down to examine the problem. It was jammed okay, mainly because someone had broken a key or something else in it. Oh boy.

I went back to him and reported my findings. He nodded, it was a key, he’d broken it, trying to force it before he realised he had the wrong key. Wonderful.

It took me nearly an hour to get at the bit of broken key and remove it from the lock. I tried it with the correct key and with some WD40, it worked. I sighed with relief. My hands were sore and I’d chipped my nails some more. I put the lock back together.

“It’s working now, Mr P.”

“You clever girl,” he smiled at me. “Whatta I owe you?”

I didn’t have a clue. I mean I’d never even costed what my time would be. I didn’t pay tax as such, because it was always cash in hand and besides I didn’t earn enough to worry about tax.

“It’s taken you a nearly two hours.”

“A proper locksmith might have done it more quickly,” I replied.

“Nah, last time I ‘ad one for a similar problem, he tooka over two hours and charged me a hundred quid.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t expect anything like that, Mr P. I’m not qualified, so pay me what it’s worth.”

“Ha, you a-relying on my guilt, are you?” I shook my head at his statement, or was it a question? “Okay then, you save-a me a ‘undred quid. I give you ‘aff, that seem okay.”

“What?” I was flabbergasted, I don’t know if my parents earn twenty five pounds an hour.

“Alrighta then, seventy five.”

“No, I don’t want even fifty, Mr P. It’s a challenge to me, I enjoy it and I don’t guarantee I can do it.”

“You take-a the money and shutta up, okay?” He place a small bundle of notes into my hand. “Buya you-self a new dress, uh?”

“Goodness, thank you Mr P. I’ll put it in my savings account, if you don’t mind?”

“Whatta you savin’ for?”

I blushed, yet being brought up to be honest when someone asked a sensible question, I felt I had to like, tell him. “A boob job,” I said in a tiny voice.

“A what?” he asked, cupping his hand over his ear, he obviously didn’t hear my reply.

“To get some breast implants, when I’m a bit older.”

“You taking d’hormones?”

“Not yet no, maybe in a year’s time.”

“You promise a-me, that you no getta you body cut about until you see whatta you can grow you-self, okay?”

How dare he, he’s a shop keeper not my parent. “Why?” I asked holding all the indignation inside.

“If you-a wait until you are a eighteen, I give you something towards it, myself. How is that?”

I blushed redder than any of the tomatoes I could see on the fruit and veg stand. My mother would kill me if I agreed to this arrangement, plus I didn’t know how much he was on about, it could have been a tenner, it might have been hundreds. If the hormones have no effect, then I might want to help my chest along in four or five years. He was talking over six.

“I need to discuss this with Mummy and Daddy, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, but don’ta forget. I won’t.”

I strolled back towards home musing over the proposition he had made. Part of me was still ruffled, it was none of his business what I did with my money or my body. Was it just a ploy to try and stop me becoming a proper woman or irreversibly so? Possibly, he was old enough to be my granddad.

As I couldn’t guess what he was thinking and I didn’t have the nerve to ask him, I decided to let it drop, the chances were he’d forget by the next time I saw him, old people do, don’t they?” Convinced that was the case, I walked home with a lighter step. I glanced at my watch, it was nearly five, and Philip would be here for me at half six. I walked more quickly and started the veg for dinner.

I made myself a cheese and salad sandwich, and was eating it when Brian came in. He looked at me eating. “You not having dinner, then?”

I shook my head, squeaking, “Badminton,” in between chews.

“Oh right, with lover-boy Gonnersall?”

I nodded, blushed and swallowed at the same time, the last bit wasn’t that clever and I began to choke. Brian laughed and went up to his room.

I was still red faced and watery eyed when Mummy came in. “What’s the matter with you?” she said looking at me.

“I choked on a cheese sandwich.”

“When?”

“Just now.”

“What are you eating that for now? it’ll spoil your dinner.”

“I’ve got to go out in half an hour.”

“What for?”

“Badminton, I did tell you earlier, Mummy.”

“Well you’d best go and change then. If you’re going to be playing this regularly, then we’ll have to think about getting you some proper kit for it.”

“Thank you, Mummy,” I said and kissed her on the cheek.

“You’ll probably need it for your new school anyway,” she called up the stairs to my disappearing backside.

~~~~~
Thanks to Gabi for making this readable and to T for making threats until I wrote another episode.

Totally Insane 26 - Confrontations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Fiction

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 26–Confrontations.
by Angharad

By the time Philip came to collect me, I had changed into my tennis skirt and the frilly chicken bum knickers, my new frilly socks and my pink and white trainers. I’d also tied my hair into two bunches and redone my lip gloss.

Philip kissed me as we were about to leave my house, no one was looking so I kissed him back. We left and he had his hand on my bum as we walked across to his mother’s car.

“Hello, Kyle–ee, still playing at being a girl, then?”

“No, Mrs Gonnersal, we’re playing badminton, I am a girl.”

“A girl with something extra?”

“A girl with a plumbing problem, which can be put right.”

“Oh so you think having an operation is going to make you a girl, do you?”

“Muuuum,” protested Philip.

“What?”

“Leave Kylie alone, I think she’s a girl, so there.”

“I’m just trying to explain to her that there’s more to being a girl than lip gloss and frilly knickers.”

“I know that, Mrs Gonersall, Mummy has been teaching me how to cook and keep house, Auntie Em, has been showing me how to look after a baby.” And your Philip has been showing me how to kiss, I felt like adding.

“What have you been doing with a baby?” It sounded as though there was almost a horrified tone to her question.

“Bathing her, dressing her and changing her nappies, feeding her and burping her. Oh and we take her out in the pram, sometimes.”

“And your Auntie lets you do all that?”

“Yes, she watches in case I need help, but I’ve done it several times now.”

“And what can you cook?” she continued my interrogation as we drove out of my road.

“I’ve made roast lamb dinner, stew, a casserole, some dumplings–um, some cakes, an omelette and an apple pie.”

“What about housework?”

“I help Mummy do the washing and ironing, I’ve hoovered and dusted and cleaned the bathroom. I also mended Brian’s jeans when he split them.”

“And did you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what, Mrs Gonnersall?”

“Doing the cooking and cleaning and mending?”

“I enjoy looking after baby Sarah, that’s great fun–she’s such a lovely baby. Then I like cooking and I suppose cleaning and laundry last–that’s hard work.”

“Satisfied?” Philip said curtly.

“Don’t get snotty with me, young man,” his mother snapped back.

“Well, you don’t ask my other friends how much housework they do?”

“None of your other friends are claiming to have a plumbing problem. Remember, I’ve known Kyle a lot longer than Kylie. I’m not sure I believe someone can be one sex one minute and another one the next.”

“So you don’t believe me, then?” I asked her.

“Let’s say, I’m impressed by your apparent girlish accomplishments, but as to your explanation? I’m not sure.”

“So how do you explain this?” I pointed to my appearance.

“So puberty hasn’t happened yet. When the hormones kick in and you start sprouting facial hair and a deep voice, not to mention spots, it’ll be much harder to look convincing. Put almost any pre-pubertal boy in a dress and he’ll look fairly girlish.”

“Muuuum,” protested Philip.

“How do you explain this?” I grabbed Philip as he got out of her car, and pulling him towards me, I planted my lips on his.

“Children, stop that at once,” she said trying to sound angry without raising her voice too much. “Philip, put that um–child down.” He continued snogging me instead. In the end she screamed off in the car and we giggled.

“You’ll be in trouble when you get home,” I said to Philip.

“So? I’m always in trouble. She thinks you’re a fairy, not a girl.” He blushed.

“What do you think?”

“You’re my girlfriend.”

“Not a fairy, then?”

“Geez, girl, what have I got to say to prove it? You’re my girlfriend, okay?”

“I like you a lot, Philip, but I’m not coming in the car with your mother again.”

“How are you going to get home then?”

“I’ll ask Mummy to come and get me, if she can’t, I’ll walk home.”

“Let’s go and play.”

“I don’t feel much like playing now.”

“She’s upset you hasn’t she?”

“No, “ I lied shaking my head, but the tears I’d been fighting to hold back climbed over the dam and began to leak out of my eyes.

He hugged me, “I’ll give her hell when she comes back. Come on in and play a couple of games, it’ll take your mind off things.”

I shook my head, “I’d better go.”

“Please, Kylie, come and play a few games with me.”

“I don’t know if I can,” I sniffed.

“Here,” he handed me a tissue and his bottle of Powerade. I wiped my nose, dabbed my eyes and took a swallow of his drink. He hugged me some more. “She is soooo gonna pay for upsetting you.”

“No, Philip, she won’t let me see you again if you get too snotty with her.”

“She’d better, if she knows what’s good for her.”

“She’s your mother, Philip…”

“So? She’s being a total bitch over this.”

“You shouldn’t call your mother things like that.”

“Hang on a minute, I was looking after my girlfriend–now she’s protecting the woman who was attacking her. Where’s the logic in that?”

“It’s a girl thing,” I said and the look of confusion on his face made me giggle. He shrugged then hugged me.

“Come and play a few games, turn your anger into aggression on the badminton court.”

“I don’t know if I can, Philip.”

“Just pretend you’re playing against her.”

“I don’t think that’ll work.” I felt myself growing small and depressed.

“Why not? It always does for me.”

“Dunno, I suppose ‘cos part of me understands what she’s saying.”

“Oh, I understand what she’s saying, all right, but I happen to disagree with it. So she can call you all the names in the book–it won’t stop me seeing you as Kylie, my girlfriend.”

“You are so sweet, Philip.”

“Yeah, I know.” He gave me a silly smile and pulled me into the sports centre.

“I don’t know if I can play tonight.”

“Well I can’t play without you, so I might as well scratch.”

“What happens if you do that?”

“We’ll lose points and position.”

“We?”

“Yeah, we’re in a league.”

“Since when?”

“Since the competition.”

“What you entered us in a league without telling me?”

“I did tell you, the day those boys jumped us down near the shops, I told you then, remember?”

“Philip Gonnersall, you did not tell me.” I was standing with my hands on my hips.

“Kylie Mosse, I did,” he said, his voice raised.

“Excuse me, but are you two going to play badminton or stand out here squabbling?”

I felt like saying, ‘What’s it to you, mister?’ Instead I looked blankly at him.

Philip looked at his watch and said, “Sh…ugar, look at the time, c’mon, Kylie, we’ve gotta get on court in two minutes.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the sports hall, where our opponents were limbering up.

I took off my jacket and while Philip sat down and removed his trackie bottoms, I did some stretching exercises. Then it was two minutes knock up before we started.

I thought I was never going to be able to play tonight, and in the beginning I played like I had four legs not two arms and legs. Philip kept saying, pretend it’s my mother, but that made me want to cry or laugh depending upon how he said it.

Suddenly, I began to think of the game in terms of standing my ground against her, and I felt my whole body change. I had more energy, I know I was standing taller and I was hitting the shuttlecock much harder. On one occasion, I ran backwards and jumped to smash a shot that only just cleared the net, but went so fast, it flew between our opponents.

“Wow, Kylie, that was brill,” he said and pecked me on the cheek. My game went to pieces for a few points, I think I was thinking more about the kiss than the badminton, then I got it together again and we won it quite easily.

“I need to phone Mummy,” I said picking up my backpack.

“If she can’t get here, I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks,” I gave him a peck on his cheek. I speed dialled home, of course Brian answered it.

“Oh it’s you, what d’you want? I’m watching the film.”

“Is Mummy there?”

“No, why?”

“ Duh! ’Cos I wanted to speak to her.”

“She’s in talking with Emma, across the road.”

“Oh, okay.” I ended the call and rang Auntie Em. “Hi, Auntie Emma, it’s Kylie, is Mummy there? Thanks.” I waited while my mother took the phone.

“Kylie, is everything alright?” there was a hint of anxiety in her voice.

“Could you come and get me from Badminton?”

“I thought Philip’s mum was doing that?”

“Um no.”

“Has something happened?”

I felt tears building up, “No,” I sniffed.

“He hasn’t done anything to you has he?” Anxiety had turned to anger.

“No, ‘course not,” I sniffed again.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay by the main entrance, and don’t let that boy touch you.”

“He hasn’t done anything,” I said to an empty phone as she was on her way.

“Who hasn’t done anything?” asked Philip suspiciously.

“I don’t know what she thought,” I said and tears flowed again. “Why do these things happen to me, Philip?”

“Dunno, ‘cos people are stupid and don’t like anyone different?”

He held me as I wept on his shoulder. Some woman came out from the Sports Centre and asked if I was okay. Philip waved her away, “It’s her period,” he hissed at her and I snorted on his shirt.

“I’ve got some pills,” said the woman.

“Her mum’s coming to get her, she’ll be here in a minute.”

“Okay, I’ve got some pills inside if you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” I sniffed.

“Here’s your mum,” he said as a car drew up, then running footsteps.

“What’s happened?” she demanded.

“It’s okay,” I said and went to walk towards the car.

“Philip?” said my mother in an accusing way.

“It’s not me, it’s my mum.”

“Your mother?” asked my mother in a tone tinged with scepticism.

“Yeah, she says Kylie’s a boy.”

“And she said that to Kylie?”

“Not in so many words, but yeah.”

“Oh did she now? I think I’d better have a little word with Mrs Gonnersall,” my mother said through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay if I keep seeing her though, isn’t it?” I heard Philip ask.

“I don’t know yet, Philip,” she responded.

“But I want to keep Philip as my friend,” I said anxiously, the tears stimulated by the thought of losing him.

“Let’s see what happens after I’ve spoken to Mrs Gonnersall, shall we?” My stomach flipped over. My mother was normally quiet and easy going, but when she was teaching or representing/protecting her kids, she was a regular lioness–an articulate one. Philip’s mum could get quite a savaging.

I felt sick, and had to rush into the toilets chucking up in the bowl before someone said to me, “Excuse me, young lady, this is the boy’s toilet.” I chucked up some more and they walked away.

Philip found me and guided me out of the gents and into the hallway. “What were you doing in there?” he hissed at me.

“It was closer than the ladies,” I said, tears still streaming down my face. My mother had parked her car and was waiting for me.

“Are you alright, Kylie?”

I wasn’t sure if I was or not, so I shrugged. She walked to me and hugged me. I burst into tears in the safety of her arms. I heard Philip say, “look out here’s trouble,” which I presumed meant his mother had arrived. Mummy escorted me to our car and I got in.

“Wait here, sweetheart, I‘m just going to have a little chat with Mrs Gonnersall.” I felt sick again.

To my surprise, Philip got in the car with me. “Can I come and live with you?” he said winking at me. “They’re talking in our car, so I said I’d come and sit with you.” He put his arm around me. “Why were you sick?”

“Dunno,” I said weakly, “nerves I s’pose.”

“Nerves? Someone who can do what you’ve done, feels nervous?” He sounded astonished.

“Yes, you should try wearing these frilly knickers and a skirt, it makes me feel vulnerable.”

“Really?”

“No, I was just trying to avoid the issue. I don’t like confrontation, did you see the look on Mummy’s face. If they come to blows, she won’t be taking any prisoners.”

“Would that make me an orphan?” he asked facetiously.

“You’ve still got a dad, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, but he’s like, boring. Your dad sounds much more fun.”

“Does he? He can be boring too, all ‘rents can–it’s part of their commitment to their children.”

“What to be boring?”

“Yeah, ‘cos like, if they weren’t, none of us would ever like, leave home.”

He looked at me, then he smiled, then he sniggered and then he roared with laughter. “An’ I thought, wrapping my sandwiches in maps was just trying to give me broader view of the world. They obviously want me to leave home–can’t your parents adopt me?”

The windows of our car were steaming up and we couldn’t see the two mothers talking. It had looked quite animated, lots of waving arms and things. I leant on Philip’s shoulder, and found myself drifting off to sleep. A wave of exhaustion swept over me like one of those tidal wave thingies they have after an earthquake.

I realised Philip had his arm around me as I fell asleep, but after that I didn’t know anything until my mother’s voice said, “Wake up, Kylie, and let Philip have his arm back.”

“Uh, wha…” I struggled to wake, I was so comfortable. Then I opened my eyes and they were all stuck together by the lashes. I yawned and struggled to keep my eyes open. “Kylie, Mrs Gonnersall wants to say something to you.”

I shivered expecting her to say I wouldn’t be able to see Philip again. However, politeness meant I had to listen. I struggled out of the car helped by Philip, whom I loved more than ever. Mummy marched me over to Mrs Gonnersall’s car. I didn’t get in; she wound down the window and said, “I’ve had a long chat with your mum, Kylie, and she’s cleared up several areas of my ignorance. I can only apologise for what I said earlier. I now realise you are a girl.”

“May I continue seeing Philip?” I asked.

“That’s not for me to decide,” she said and my heart sank, “Philip is quite a wilful young man, so you’d better ask him. I have no objections, as long as you don’t give me a display like you did earlier. That was rather blatant.”

I blushed and gazed at the floor, did you know how interesting tarmac can be. “Um–I’m like, sorry about that, Mrs Gonnersall, I was like, making a point.”

“So I understood. But if you want me to respect your new gender, you have to respect my feelings, too.”

“I will, Mrs Gonnersall.”

“Good girl, would you send Philip back to me. I suspect I’m going to have to talk my way out of this.”

I nodded and smiled, then went to get Philip who was standing by our car. “What did she say?”

“She said she couldn’t give me permission to see you.”

“The bitch!” he spat and I had to grab him before he said something he’d regret.

“She said you had to decide.”

“I had to decide what?”

“If you would let me see you again?”

“You what?”

I repeated myself.

He looked at me, and hugged me, “What do you think?”

“How would I know, I’m only a dumb girl.”

“Yeah, I s’pose you are,” he said before I slapped him.

Thanks to Gabi for express editing: any mistakes remaining, blame that darn cat!

Totally Insane 27 - Explanations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Other Keywords:

series.

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 27–Explanations.
by Angharad

I got back into our car, Mummy was still talking to Mrs Gonnersall. I sat looking through the windscreen, looking forwards not back, where behind me the two mothers and Philip were talking. I had a sudden flashback to when we were in school a couple of years ago. Gonnersall is an unusual name, and there was a period when other boys used to call him Gonorrhoea Gonnersall . None of us knew what it meant, it was just a rude word that sounded like his name. He hated it, and once or twice had actually cried when called names, especially when he found out it was a sexually transmitted disease–whatever that means.

I sniggered to myself, then felt embarrassed, if not ashamed. Here I was laughing at someone who’d risk the wrath of the ‘rents, to stand up for me–and I was laughing at him. I was nearly in tears in my shame when Mummy came back to the car.

“Let’s go home shall we, Kylie?” she said starting up the engine.

“Please,” I said looking out the side window.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” I lied, but I could feel her eyes boring into me. I started to sniff, and then to cry. I heard her switch off the engine and put her arm around me.

“I’m afraid there’s going to be some more of these encounters before you get much older.”

“Why can’t people just let me be, Mummy?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” She pulled me to her and I had to release the seatbelt or be strangled by it. Once clear of it, she hugged me and kissed me on top of my head.

“I’m not hurting anyone,” I continued my complaint.

“I know, but that’s how some people are.”

“You’d think I was a criminal or some sort of monster.” I wasn’t sure if self pity or anger was becoming dominant.

“I know you’re neither of those things, and so does your father and Brian. You can count on us for support, as you know.”

“And Philip,” I added shrilly, “he stuck up for me against his horrid mother.”

“Yes he did, didn’t he? He’s becoming quite a defender for you, isn’t he?”

“He’s nice, Mummy, and I like him lots. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d stopped me seeing him?”

“I’m sure we’d have been able to accommodate something, Kylie.”

“What, you’d have helped me see him against her wishes?” I was agog, my mother actively suggesting subterfuge–mind you she can be sneaky with Daddy, when he doesn’t appear to want to do what she wants.

“As that isn’t going to happen, let’s leave it there shall we?” Mummy rapidly changed the subject, so maybe I was on dangerous ground, I wondered if all this was part of the feminine wiles I’d eventually learn as I grew up.

“What did you say to Mrs Gonorrhoea?”

“I beg your pardon?” said Mummy sharply.

“What did you say to Mrs Gonor–oops–Mrs Gonnersall?” I blushed furiously and the car seemed to become very hot.

She gave me an old fashioned look, presumably at the slip of tongue, it was an accident–I think. “I told her what the experts had said, and a few other things. I also pointed out that discrimination is illegal.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know, but she didn’t challenge me. I suspect it is for adults, but not for children, they always forget kids when they make new laws, ignoring the fact that people are hardly likely to wake up at aged forty and decide they’d like a change.”

“What do you mean, Mummy?”

“I mean, darling, that most people, well I assume, most people who change their gender have thought about it for some time, probably since they were kids or young people; they don’t just wake up one morning after being a man or woman and decide they’d like to be the opposite sex, for a change.”

“Maybe they should, Mummy, then they’d understand what I’m going through.”

“You’re probably right, Kylie. I sometimes think, if all these silly children who are wasting their education or their lives generally, spent some time in Africa with the poor children over there, who can’t get education because of poverty; or who have to walk three miles to get fresh water every day, they’d have a much more positive view of life. They don’t know they’re born.”

“Would I be able to be a girl in Africa? I mean if I’d been born in Africa instead of here?”

“I don’t know, Kylie, I suspect it would have been much harder as resources tend to be much scarcer. It would probably be up to you in the end, if you really wanted to do something, you might just manage to do it.”

“You mean like, marry Philip?”

Mummy coughed for a moment before answering, “I suspect it’s a bit premature for such things, young lady, now let’s get home and have a cuppa and perhaps a piece of toast.”

Back at home, Brian had presumably finished watching his film, so sister baiting became a more enjoyable form of indulgence. “What you crying for–lost your match did you?”

“Brian, there’s no verb in that sentence, say it again properly,” my mother exhorted and suddenly, Brian lost his enthusiasm for teasing. Muttering something that sounded like rowlocks, he slunk away up to his room.

Mummy looked at me and my disappearing brother and said, “It must have been something I said,” she smirked and I sniggered. ’Knickers’ came wafting down the stairs. Mummy decided enough insubordination had transpired. “Brian, come here.”

She had to repeat the command before he slouched into view and defiantly said, “What?”

“What did you say when you went up the stairs?”

“Nothin’, why?”

“Don’t give me that, you know damn well what you said.” Mummy seemed to be getting taller and Brian was shrinking before my very eyes. “You said, Knickers.”

“So?” he shrugged unapologetically.

“Kylie has another pair of those frilly tennis ones, unless you want to end up wearing them for the rest of the week, I think an apology is in order.”

I’m sure he did say he was sorry, but my mind had moved on to much more entertaining prospects, of him arriving at the gym in my CBKs. Then he’d know how I felt, wouldn’t he?

Actually, he wouldn’t. I look like a girl, he doesn’t. I look positively charming in them, he’d look absurd. Despite his occasional acts of bullying or teasing, and his threats to my well being, most of which are bluster–it’s what big brothers do–pull rank, against younger siblings, especially younger brothers, by violence. I wonder if he would hit me? I doubt it, but I don’t plan on finding out in case he did. He’s very strong and all that karate stuff, means he’s dangerous too. All I have is my growing armoury of feminine wiles, being sneaky and using my wits.

So, do I want to see him in my chicken bum knicks? Not really, he’d feel humiliated and besides he’d stretch them to hell and back–he’s quite a bit bigger than me.

“Kylie, have you gone deaf?” my mother snapped at me.

I jumped clean out of my reverie and almost into the sink. “Yes, Mummy?”

“Goodness, girl, clean your ears out. I said, put the kettle on.”

“Oh, yes, I will.”

By the time it had boiled and I’d poured some on some teabags–in the pot of course–and after warming it first, Brian and my imagination had disappeared, and Mummy was opening a packet of chocolate biscuits.

“I didn’t know we had any of those?” I said licking my lips, Brian usually makes short work of them if there are any in the house.

“Ah, I hid these,” Mummy grinned, was she being sneaky?

I challenged her, “That’s sneaky,” I asserted.

“No, it’s tactical deception,” she corrected me.

“Oh, what does that mean?”

“It’s sneaky,” and she laughed.

As we drank our teas and munched our way through a couple of biscuits, each, she asked me about Auntie Em wanting me to baby-sit.

“Yes, she asked me if I could sit for her on Friday lunchtime, I thought I’d better ask you first, Mummy.”

“It’s a huge responsibility, Kylie. If anything goes wrong…”

“Oh don’t, Mummy, I’ve sat for her before when she’s gone shopping.”

“What about your lunch and Sarah’s?”

“I can have a sandwich, I’ll make it before I go there. Auntie Em, will have baby Sarah’s all ready for me.”

“What if she chokes or something?”

“If I can’t sort it, I’ll call 999.”

“Okay. I suspect it’s highly illegal, you’re not yet fourteen, which is the legal requirement. I’m not entirely happy with the prospect.”

“But you said, yes?”

“Well, I could hardly say no, could I? I mean, Emma has been so good to you. So it’s yes with some reservations. You must take your mobile with you, and make sure you have enough credits and it’s charged up.”

“I could take her out in the pram if it’s fine, Mummy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kylie. You stay at home and keep things simple.”

“Okay, Mummy, but I can do it?”

“I’ve already said yes, haven’t I. Don’t you dare make me regret it.”

“I won’t, Mummy, I promise.”

The next day was a bit more school work and looking after baby Sarah. I asked Auntie Em, if I could do it all, with her just watching me, so I’d be even more practised when I did it on Friday. Which is what we did, and I got it all right, so we both felt a bit more confident.

The same happened on Thursday, and I was becoming quite experienced with my baby care skills. So when Friday arrived, I dressed up a bit, put on my favourite skirt and top, red ones with my red shoes and I painted my nails red–I felt grown up and sophisticated–with some of the stuff, Lorraine had given me. I’d tried some red lipstick as well, but it looked silly. So I used a pink one and put some mascara on, too.

“Oh my goodness, you look as if you’re the one going out for dinner, Kylie.”

“Well, as temporary lady of the house, I thought I’d dress the part,” I said sauntering past her and she chuckled at me.

“You are funny, Kylie,” she said hugging me. “Right let’s have a cuppa before madam wakes up, then you can change and feed her while I go and change into my glad rags for my lunch. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“What, making the tea?”

“No, silly, baby sitting?”

“I think so, so do you–that’s why you asked me, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

We drank our tea and ate a biscuit–I’d have to watch all these biscuits, or I’d get fat. I know Philip wouldn’t want a fat girlfriend. Then I went and got Sarah, who gurgled at me; she is such a happy baby. I know she’s the only one I actually have experience of, but she is so good and Mummy says they can be really hard work sometimes. I expect Brian was, I’d have been perfect of course.

I fed and changed Sarah, and bathed her and so on. Auntie Em looked really nice when she came back down, she was wearing a lovely green and gold dress and green shoes with heels so high I wondered how she could stand on them, but she walked with ease.

“Gosh, Auntie Em, how can you walk in those shoes?”

“It takes practice, Kylie, and don’t believe anyone who says it doesn’t. Next time you come over, you can have a try if you like.”

“Wow, yes please, but don’t tell Mummy, she’d have my guts for garters.”

“No, of course not,” she laughed. “My handsome prince should be here in a moment, with his carriage.” Almost as she finished saying this; Uncle Kit walked in, he looked smart too, in his suit.

“Your carriage awaits, milady.” He bowed as he spoke and I giggled; Sarah, in her carrycot laughed as well.

“You will be alright won’t you, Kylie?”

“We’re only going to be a couple of hours, darling,” said Uncle Kit.

“Yes, I know, Kit, but it’s a big responsibility.”

“I’ll be okay, Auntie Em, remember you taught me?”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she kissed me and then baby Sarah. “You be good for Kylie, you little baggage.” Of course, Sarah, giggled and kicked her feet in the air. “See you in two hours.”

“Be good, both of you,” exhorted Kit.

“We will, won’t we, Sarah?” I replied and they left.

Sarah was very good as always. She slept in her carrycot thingy while I sat nearby reading a book about Admiral Lord Nelson. He suffered from sea sickness all his life, and he was reckless to the point of suicidal at times. No wonder the French sniper shot him, he was wandering about his ship like he was out on an afternoon promenade. It was riveting stuff all the same, I almost forgot I was reading it as schoolwork.

I was deeply engrossed in how Nelson saved the royal family of Naples–in those days, Italy was a collection of little princedoms and dukedoms, not the state of chaos, my dad says it is today. Anyway, so interesting was the book, I suspect the noise I heard had been going for some time. A sort of dripping noise.

I put my book down, checked on Sarah–she was in the land of nod–and went in search of the noise. I checked all the downstairs rooms and couldn’t see anything. So next I went upstairs, nothing seemed to be happening there either. Curiouser and curiouser according to Alice; I went down again, listened and then went back to Admiral Nelson.

I was wondering what he was thought to have said when he lay dying on the deck of HMS Victory. Some say he said, “Kiss me, Hardy,” others think he said, “Kismet, Hardy.” As he had run off with someone else’s wife, it seemed unlikely he’d want Captain, later admiral, Thomas Hardy, to kiss him. This isn’t the same Thomas Hardy who wrote all those dreary novels, but Admiral Sir Thomas Hardy, who funnily enough came from pretty well the same place as the other Thomas Hardy, Dorchester in Dorset.

Lady Emma Hamilton who left her husband to live with Nelson, went on to live in relative poverty after Nelson died, abandoned by all the nice society of the day–so nothing new there then. According to Daddy, lots of the ‘nice’ people are anything but, unless you have something they want.

I picked up my book again, but was half listening for whatever the noise was. There it was again, drip, drip. I put down my book and went in search again. Once more I couldn’t find anything. What on earth was it? Back to Nelson after checking on Sarah.

My eyes were closing as I read, when I heard Sarah, gurgle. I went and picked her up and gave her a bottle and burped her. A little later I changed her and played with her. I put her down in her bouncer seat which has a mobile of butterflies on it, so when she bounces about in it, the butterflies swirl about.

Then I heard the drip, drip again. It was coming from the kitchen. I walked through and to my horror noticed a huge bulge appearing in the kitchen ceiling with a little puddle forming on the middle of the floor. In the distance I heard a car park and moments later a key in the lock. I was mesmerised by this growing bubble above me.

Then as the front door opened and a voice called, “Kylie” and I glanced up at the ceiling and saw the paint or paper it was made of tear and water gushed forth with me screaming underneath it. I felt this wave of wet stuff hit me and it knocked me off my feet and into a cupboard door.

“Oh my God,” screamed Auntie Em, and Uncle Kit waded into the kitchen and picked me up. I was a bit dazed to say the least, and can remember being picked up and wrapped in a large towel.

“What happened?” I asked Auntie Em as she handed me a cup of tea.

“Uncle Kit thinks there was a leak in a pipe in the bathroom.”

“I kept hearing a dripping noise. I kept going to see where it was but I couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t my fault, Auntie Em,” I burst into tears.

“We know that, Kylie, it was a pipe that leaked. I’m just so glad you weren’t hurt.”

“My best shoes are all wet,” I sobbed, “they’re probably ruined.”

“If they are, we’ll get you a new pair.” Auntie Em hugged me.

We’d finished our tea when Uncle Kit returned from helping the emergency plumber. “The plumber has finished, and the insurance people are sending a builder round tomorrow to give us an estimate for a new ceiling. How are you now, young lady?”

“She had a bit of a fright, but us girls are made of sterner stuff than you boys, aren’t we Kylie?”

Uncle Kit pulled a face at this and I sniggered and nodded my agreement with Auntie Em. “Yeah, but you still need us boys to fix the mess, don’t you?” he retaliated.

“Well of course, it would destroy our manicures, wouldn’t it Kylie?” I nodded and sniggered again, then looked at my nails, somehow I’d managed to chip two of my nails and part of me wanted to get home to fix it. One of the dangers of having strong colours is that the marks show up more easily. As Mummy would probably make me take it off anyway, I’d do that when I got home and replace it with a light pink colour.

I finished my tea, “I think I’d best be going home now, Auntie Em.”

“Are you sure you feel okay, you took a bit of a bang on the head against the cupboard?”

“I think, I’m alright, I’ll go home and change and put the dinner on for Mummy.”

“You are such a kind young lady. If you feel at all strange or anything, give me a ring and I’ll come straight over. Okay?”

“Yes, Auntie Em.”

“Tell Rosemary I’ll be over to see her later.”

“Yes, I will Auntie Em, do you want this towel back first?”

“No, I’ll collect it later.”

I fled back to our house hoping no one saw my impression of a drowned rat in a towel. When I got home, I could see the change from when I’d left here this morning. Then I looked quite good now–I looked like someone who’d just been fished out of a river.

I stripped off and showered, after drying myself and dressing in tee shirt and jeans, I put my wet stuff in the washing machine. I had to pack my bra with a pair of socks, my little boob-pad things were still wrapped in a towel in my bedroom and the thought of Brian making some remark about my flat chest really got to me today. I would have dissolved into tears, so it was better not to get caught.

I was taking the varnish off my nails when he came home from school. “Is that all you’ve done all bloody day, painted your bloody nails. Bloody women.” He stormed off up the stairs clutching a can of cola and bag of crisps. I was so glad I hadn’t gone flat chested, he would have said something unkind.

Once I finished removing my nail polish, I washed my hands and put the fish in the already warm oven. Then I did some potatoes and other vegetables, while our wannabe alpha male came down dressed in the scruffiest jeans and tee I’d seen him wear for ages.

“ ‘Ere, wash these for me,” he demanded shoving a bundle of dirty clothes in my arms before I could stop him.

“I’m not your servant,” I said dropping them on the floor.

“Well you do bugger all else, so you can be the maid for now, so pick ‘em up and wash ‘em, okay?” He stood in front of me, a good six inches taller than me, and much broader and heavier. He was quite intimidating or trying to be.

However, I wasn’t going to be intimidated. If I let him get away with this, he’d make my life a misery. “You know where the machine is,” I said walking away from him.

“ Oi, Pansy Potter, pick ‘em up and stick ‘em in the machine.”

“Sorry, I’m doing the dinner, you want them washed, you put them in the machine. I’m busy.” I pushed past him and went to the machine and emptied it of my own laundry. “Here, I’ll leave the door open.”

“You, lazy bitch,” he snapped at me.

“Am I? Shows how much you know, doesn’t it.”

“What setting do I need?”

“Probably something that sterilises it for two hours,” I called back.

“Watch it, or you’ll need something that gets bloodstains out,” he snapped back.

“At least I know what to do, which is more than you, cor, I can smell those jeans from here,” I said wrinkling up my nose. I couldn’t of course but he didn’t know that, and I nearly wet myself when he actually sniffed them before he put them in the machine.

“Well I can’t smell anything,” he declared.

“Girl’s noses are more sensitive than boys, you get used to being all stinky, but we notice it?” I caught sight of his reflection in the tiles, he was sniffing under his arms and I had to run upstairs to the loo, I was laughing so much.

Thanks to Gabi for express editing, any mistakes still here - blame Bonzi - he doesn't give a toss.

Totally Insane 28 - Fulminations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 28–Fulminations.
by Angharad

For Trish, Happy Fourteenth Birthday, Sweetheart.

*****

Later that evening after we’d eaten the dinner I’d practically cooked for everyone, Auntie Em came around. I was upstairs copying some CDs onto my MP3 so I didn’t hear the doorbell.

“Kylie,” called my mother but I was oblivious, my ears filled with the latest album by the Manics.

“I’d get downstairs quick if I was you,” sneered Brian, “sounds like you’re in deep doo-doo.” He finished this with what could only be described as a cackle. I’d try and look for a broomstick later.

“KYLIE,” my mother gave vent to her years of screeching at primary school kids.

“I’m coming, Mummy,” it sounded serious. I raced into the lounge and saw Auntie Em. “Oh!”

“Oh yes, madam, why didn’t you tell me about the burst pipe?”

“Um, I forgot.”

“You nearly get drowned or concussed or both, and you forgot. Maybe the bang on the head affected your memory?”

“No, Mummy, I wasn’t hurt and neither was baby Sarah, and Auntie Em said she was coming to see you. I was too busy making the dinner, and Brian was still trying to work out which setting to put his jeans on in the washing machine.”

“I take it you didn’t help him?” questioned my mum.

“Why should I? He tried to make me do it for him.”

“What do you mean; he tried to make you do it?”

“He tried to hand me his bundle of filth and told me to wash it.”

“But you refused?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t touching his clothing, eewww, I might catch something.”

“Like what?” my mother went bug eyed.

“I don’t know, who knows what strange life forms inhabit planet Brian? Cooties, I think the ‘Mericans call them.” I shrugged.

“They’re head lice, aren’t they?” suggested Mummy.

“I think they are,” agreed Auntie Em.

“Ugh, he hasn’t got those has he,” I said, scratching my own head which had suddenly started to itch.

“I hope not,” said my mother firmly.

“Anyway, I came over to see how you were, Kylie, and make sure you hadn’t suffered any ill-effects from your bump this afternoon. I just opened the door and there was this scream and a thump of a large amount of water hitting the kitchen floor with Kylie underneath it.”

“Oh my goodness, you didn’t say anything about it, why ever not?” My mother complained.

“What was there to say? I saw the ceiling explode in Auntie Em’s kitchen and got very wet. I came home showered and dried and washed my clothes, then got dinner. Then you lot came in and we ate.”

“I see, so you didn’t think I might be interested in learning about this incident?”

“Not really, Mummy, it’s Auntie Em’s ceiling not ours.”

“The fact that you were involved, I think, suggests you might have told me, Kylie.” She wittered on and I simply shrugged, what could she have done about it? Not a lot, so why bother telling her, besides–and a big besides at that–she might stop me doing it in future and I really like sitting with Sarah.

“I have to go, Kylie, I brought you this for your help this afternoon and my apologies, once more, that my house tried to kill you.”

“Thanks, Auntie Em, I’m not worried and will baby-sit any time you want me to.” I took the proffered gift, which was wrapped up in fancy paper and tied with a big bow.

“Well, that was something I was going to ask your mum–we have the builders in tomorrow, so I wondered if perhaps you could take Sarah out while they’re hammering and bashing things?”

“Oh yes, may I, Mummy?”

“I don’t know, Kylie, only if you promise there’ll be no more incidents?”

“But, Mummmmeeee, I didn’t do anything last time.”

“She didn’t, Rose, honestly, it was just one of those things.”

“Okay, what time do you want her?”

“They’ll be there at about nine, so any time after that.”

“You can always come in here if you need to get away from the noise and dust.”

“That’s very kind of you, Rose. I can see where Kylie gets her generosity.”

“From her father,” said my mother blushing.

“I doubt that, Rose, I think it’s probably from both of you and her modesty from you.” Me modest? Am I? I’d never noticed before. Generous, yeah, okay. Looks like I’m just plain wonderful–but then we all knew that already.

“Look, your kitchen will be out of action tomorrow, why not come here to make lunch and the three of you come over for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Rose, that is so generous of you, but you don’t have time to cook dinner, you’re working.”

“I am, but our little cook isn’t,” she glanced at me and I swallowed hard.

“Yes, why don’t you, Auntie Em?”

“Okay, you’ve got a deal.” She left shortly afterwards and I went back to the kitchen with my mother who was dashing about the place and looking in cupboards and fridges.

“If we get up early enough, Kylie, we can do a quick shop at Tesco, they open all night. Then you can do the preparation in the afternoon and perhaps put the stuff on for when I come home.” She looked at her watch. “Hmmm, I think I’ll dash around there now, can you put the vacuum cleaner around and then mop the kitchen floor while I’m away?”

So that’s what I did. Of course Brian had to walk across my wet floor until I threatened to beat him with the mop, then he ran upstairs and I cleaned up his muddy hoof-prints. The boy belongs in a zoo, somewhere.

While I was waiting, I wiped down the worktops and the cooker, Mummy came in as I was finishing and after putting down the groceries, looked around and smiled, then she hugged me. “Thank you, darling, you are such a help. So much more than Kyle would ever have been. I’m so glad I have such a helpful and loving daughter.”

“Kyle used to help too, Mummy, but you never really encouraged him like you do me.”

“I know sweetheart, it just seems so natural to do things with my daughter, especially with the previous model being Brian, who does the minimum of anything he can avoid–typical boy: so you see, even before you were different, I just don’t know how I missed it.”

“I did too, Mummy.” I hugged her back then put the kettle on.

The next day, all the others left by half past eight. I was still upstairs dressing when our tame troll departed the premises. This time I was a picture in pink, pink top with butterflies in sparkly stuff on the front, pink cut offs and some pink Crocs, which hid my pink painted toenails. I also had tied back my hair in a ponytail with a pink ribbon and wore a pink bangle. Sadly, I don’t have a pink watch, but maybe that’s just as well, however, my earrings, matched my bangle and my lippy and nail varnish matched each other too.

I’d set the oven to come on at twelve, inside it were half a dozen of those half cooked rolls, so they’d be ready by half past and Mummy had helped me make some fresh soup to eat with them. We even had some fresh cream cakes in the fridge–if Brian hadn’t found them. I checked quickly; he hadn’t.

At ten past nine, I picked up my backpack and went across the road. Auntie Em was changing Sarah after feeding her, so Uncle Kit, let me in. “You’ve caught me napping, Kylie. The builders have just arrived and they’re going to rip out the rest of the ceiling and then put new board up, then tomorrow, they hope to skim it.”

“Skim it? What does that mean Auntie Em?” I had never heard the term in relation to ceilings, milk, stones, even bank accounts, but never ceilings.

“Once they’ve got all the damaged boards down, they put up new plaster boards, then once that is done and the edges taped over–at least that’s what Kit was telling me–they skim a thin layer of plaster over it all to make it look smooth. Finally they put the cornice around again and in a few weeks when it’s all dry, we can paint it.”

“Gosh, it sounds very complicated, I think I’ll stick to knitting, Auntie Em.”

“I would, Kylie, plaster and cement tend to dry your skin.”

“Ugh, I don’t want horrible dry hands, can’t they wear rubber gloves?”

“Well, Kylie, that sounds like a sensible thing to do, but these are men, and they don’t look after themselves like we girls do.” I thought about the men I lived with. Daddy kept himself clean and tidy, his hair was always neat and his hands were always clean, his nails short and so on, but he said his job in healthcare, meant he needed to appear clean and tidy. Especially if he was wanting his staff to be the same. Brian–now there was something else. If he was going out with his mates, he looked like a walking swamp creature–not that we get too many of them around here for comparison. If he was going out with a girl, he still looked like swamp creature, but one that had showered and sprayed so much antiperspirant all over himself, there was a danger to the ozone layer over our street. I chuckled to myself, it was my fault that he went out smelling like a chemical factory, he’d sprayed half a can of the stuff over himself and I said he still ronked like a sewer rat. So he went and did some more. I could smell his deodorant ten minutes before he appeared, but told him it was an improvement. Unless his girlfriend had a cold, she’d never be able to sit or stand within ten feet of him.

“There you are, ready to go out with your Auntie Kylie,” Auntie Em said to Sarah who laughed and wriggled. She put the baby in the pram and I was offered the handles. I pushed it out through the door and after collecting a drink for Sarah, pushed the pram off down the street.

“Good morning,” I said cheerily to the builders as they unloaded big sheets of something from the back of their van.

“’Ello darlin’,” they called back which made me feel good as I walked down the road. We went past the corner shop and passed a few minutes talking with Mr Papogopolis, who gave me a chocolate bar to eat.

I offered him the money, but he said, it was a retainer in case he needed a locksmith again. I’m not sure what that meant, but it was rather nice, one with bits of fruit and nuts in.

I glanced at my watch and we’d been out about twenty minutes. The sky looked clear and no rain was forecast, so we headed for the park. I walked around the path twice, at one end the area has some playing fields, some of which are football pitches. I stood and watched some schoolboys playing soccer. One or two had a better idea than the others, not that I’d ever been much good at it.

We watched–rather I watched, Sarah was asleep–a couple of goals being scored. Then after a ferocious tackle on the touch line, the ball came bouncing towards us. I was frightened it could hit the pram, and was ready to move it quickly. Instead the ball came to a halt by my feet. Two boys came running to collect it.

“Hiya,” said the first, “doin’ anythin’ tonight?”

“What d’you want with a teenage mother?” asked the second.

“Well it shows she knows what to do, dunnit? And the chances are she’ll be desperate for it. They always are, innit?”

“I never fought a that, you’re a geni-arse, Coll.”

“Yeah, I know.” Coll, who I presume is named Collin, came up to me, and looked in the pram as he picked up the ball. He towered over me, and was clearly two or three years older than I was. “Ah, she looks like her mum, all pretty in pink. Wait till the end kiddo and we can arrange a date. See ya.” With that he and the other boy wrestled for the ball as they went back to the pitch. As soon as they started playing again, I made a tactical withdrawal–a fast walk back to our street.

I was going past the builders van when one of them was coming out with a pot of something. “Oh, hi again,” he stopped for a moment, then said, “You live around ‘ere don’t you?”

“Yes, across the road.” I nodded towards our house.

“My lad said there’s some kid up here who used to be a boy, but changed sex. Is it true?”

I blushed and stuttered, “N-n-not as far as I know.” I pushed past him and into the house. He laughed and I felt myself very vulnerable.

“What’s the matter, Kylie,” asked Auntie Em, as I went in.

“Nothing,” I said as I sniffed back a tear.

“Yes there is; now sit down and tell me.” I was more upset than I thought and cried as I told her first about being mistaken for a teenage mum, then what the builder had said. She smiled at the encounter with the footballers until I told her what the one had said about being desperate for it. Her expression changed dramatically. “I’d keep away from that sort if I were you, otherwise you could end up as a teenage mum.”

“I don’t think so,” I said and it took her a moment to appreciate what I’d said.

“Oh, Kylie, I keep doing this to you, don’t I? I am sorry, I forget you’re a special girl.”

She hugged me and I felt a bit better. When we got to the bit with the builders, she looked quite angry. “Wait here,” she went out and spoke with Uncle Kit, who came in.

“Just what did the builder say to you?” So I repeated it as best I could. “Right, we’ll see about that,” and before I could say anything, he stormed out of the room and raised voices were heard, although we couldn’t hear what was said. I hugged Auntie Em, afraid of what would happen when I went past them again.

A few moments later, Uncle Kit came back in, “Kylie, can you come with me a moment.” I rose on trembling legs and he held out his hand to me, “Don’t worry, girl, it’ll be alright.” I took his hand and we went out to the kitchen.

The builder who’d laughed at me was standing by his mate and looking very embarrassed. “I’m sorry I laughed at you, darlin’. Mr Johnson explained it was all a medical thing and you was really a girl all the time. So I’m sorry, like.”

Uncle Kit squeezed my hand. “I hope you accept Mr Trent’s apology.”

“Yes, thank you, Uncle Kit. Thank you, Mr Trent.”

“’S’alright luvvie, I can see you’re really a girl anyway, no boy could be as pretty as you.” I felt myself growing hot and wanting to leave this horrid man as quickly as possible. Uncle Kit took me back to Auntie Em. I noticed the time and saw that it was nearly midday.

“Mummy and I made soup last night for lunch, and I have rolls in the oven. I must go and warm the soup, so can you please come over at half past.”

The builders were hammering again, and Sarah tossed and turned in her pram. “I’ll come over with you, Kylie, the noise is getting on my nerves and Sarah will wake early if we stay here. See you in half an hour, darling,” she kissed Uncle Kit, and we walked over to my house, me still pushing the pram.

“Oh, peace and quiet,” she said as we shut the door. “Is there anything you’d like me to do?”

“No, I can manage, thank you Auntie Em.” I stirred the soup and put it on a low gas. Then I laid the table, we usually eat in our kitchen as it’s quite a big room. I also put the kettle on and got some cups and saucers ready, then put some milk in a jug from the plastic bottle it comes in. Next I had to dash back and stir the soup, it smelt really good.

The oven timer pinged and I checked the rolls, Mummy had told me to tap them, if they sounded hollow, they were cooked. They did and they were HOT, ouch, I sucked my finger. Uncle Kit arrived and I let Auntie Em dish up the soup, she was better with a ladle, and she also got the rolls out of the oven whilst I got the butter dish out of the fridge.

“Gosh this is a delicious lunch, home made soup and fresh baked rolls, umm, absolutely delicious.” Uncle Kit was effusive in his praise. “And you made all this?”

“Not quite, Mummy supervised and told me what to do.” I felt myself swelling with pride under his compliments.

“Still, you’re going to make some chap a wonderful wife, Kylie. How could that stupid builder chappie think you were a boy.”

“ ‘Cos he’s dickhead?” I postulated and Uncle Kit, snorted soup all over the table.

Auntie Em and I cleared up after lunch, we had a cake and a cuppa after the soup. Uncle Kit went to check on the builders, he was still a bit cross with them.

Auntie Em fed Sarah from her breast and allowed me to watch. I was so jealous. It was lovely to watch and Sarah clamped on to her boob, like a limpet. “I wish I could do that, Auntie Em,” I sighed.

“Not at your age, girl, or your boobs would be down to your ankles by the time you were thirty.”

“At least I’d have boobs,” I sighed again.

“I’m sure you’ll have some when you’re a little older. I didn’t have much at all until I was thirteen or fourteen, I was like you, very skinny.”

“They’re lovely now,” I said blushing.

“They’re bigger than they’ve ever been since I’ve been feeding. It’s bit of a mixed blessing, when you start leaking like a dripping tap. It tends to make my clothes wet at times, too.”

“I thought you could get pads for that?” what did I know other than what I’d seen in Boots the Chemist.

“Oh yes, I couldn’t be without those, but when I’m really full, it comes through them. Still I think she’s worth it, don’t you?” She looked down at the feeding baby, who was actually starting to nod off to sleep.

“Does it hurt, her sucking on your um…”

“My nipple? Not really, it did a little at first but after that it felt quite nice and it’s the most pleasant way to ease the pressure in them. It also means I don’t need to sterilise bottles and so on. So it’s convenient as well, and they say it’s better for the baby.”

I watched her feed Sarah for about twenty minutes, I was totally rapt with it and felt totally inadequate. I wondered if I could grow nice boobs like hers, and will they find some way of making them make milk, like Auntie Em’s do? I did hope so.

The builder’s van went off about three, and Auntie Em took Sarah back soon after. I tidied up the kitchen and was putting the dishes away when Brian arrived home.

“What can I smell?” he said sniffing like a bloodhound with hay fever.

“Apart from yourself?” I asked innocently.

“Watch it girly, or I’ll save the surgeon a job. What have you been eating?”

“Only soup and rolls, I gave the Johnsons some for lunch.”

“Any left?”

I looked in the saucepan, “Yeah, a plateful and there’s two rolls left as well.”

“Warm it up will ya,” as this was polite for him, I did so. He went upstairs to change into his jeans. He came down just as the soup was up to temperature. I poured it into a dish and handed it and the rolls to him. He tucked in and smiled. “Did you make this?”

“Yeah, Mummy and I made it last night.”

“It’s good,” he said smacking his lips. He regarded me over his meal. “You wear those things all day?”

I looked down at my top and cut off trousers, “Yeah, why?”

“You weren’t out with the Johnson’s baby, were you?”

“Yes, I took her around the park.”

“Shite, it was you–I’ll kill that swine Collin Matthews.”

“Who’s he?”

“The rat-faced toad who was talking to you, he did speak to you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, the ball came over where I was standing watching them.”

“He said he saw a teen mum with her baby and she was acting like she was wanting a good seeing to.”

“I wasn’t, I was just watching the football. I didn’t say anything to him.”

“I will though, if he thinks my sister is a pushover.” He looked quite angry.

“Please don’t say anything, I won’t go down there again.”

“Why not? It’s a free bloody country. You should be able to push a pram anywhere you like, without some dickhead like Matthews pestering you.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to get into trouble over me again.”

“I won’t, I’ll just tell him to keep away from you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Bri.”

“Oh okay, Sis. That was very tasty.” He wiped his mouth on the napkin. Then looking at me again, he said, ”You look tidy today…” and I nearly fainted on the spot.

Thanks to Gabi for super fast editing - just shows you can improve on perfection :)

Totally Insane 29 - machinations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 29–Machinations.
by Angharad

It was a few days after my close encounter with Auntie Em’s ceiling that I next bumped into Collin Matthews. Gemma and I were hanging out in town. Philip was going to meet us after he’d been to the dentist–it was only a check up, so no big deal.

We, that is, Gemma and I, were emerging from a clothes shop where she’d talked me into buying a very short skirt–Mummy will kill me, but that’s another story.

“Well look who it isn’t?” said a boy’s voice and we glanced up to see these two quite large boys standing outside the shop. “Where’s your baby today?”

Stepping between Matthews and me, Gemma said, “She doesn’t have a baby, she’s like twelve, you turkey.”

“Twelve? Geez, she’s got a twin with a baby then. We saw them down by the playing fields last week.”

“Well, she’d have like been in school then, wouldn’t she?” Gemma could be quite forceful when she wanted. I stood behind her, protecting her in case one of the dummies in the window decided to attack her–while she dealt with the two dummies in the front.

“You sure it wasn’t you?” said Matthews staring intently at me. I shook my head to indicate no. He was still grumbling about it when they walked off.

“What was all that about, Kylie?” demanded Gemma.

“Oh, nothing.”

“C’mon, girl, talk–or I’ll call him back and say it was you.”

“Not Collin Matthews, puuullleese,” I pretended to beg.

“Well, like ‘fess up, then.”

“Okay, okay, I surrender.” We moved into the middle of a small arcade. “It’s nothing really. I took Auntie Em’s baby out for a walk ‘cos they were having builders in and it was all dirty and noisy.”

“What they havin’ done?”

“A new kitchen ceiling, the old one fell on me.”
“What?” Her eyes became enormous–“it fell on you? You’re kiddin’, aren’t you?”

“No, they had a burst pipe and I heard the dripping, went to investigate and this huge bulge in the ceiling burst just as I went into the kitchen. Nearly drowned me.” Gemma ran through the scenario in her mind’s eye, looked concerned and then laughed.

“I’ll bet that was funny.”

“Not at the time, I had quite nice clothes on.”

“What about Matthews?”

“Well, like I said, I took baby Sarah out in the pram while the builders were doing the ceiling. I walked down around the park and round the bottom of the playing fields .”

“No wonder they thought you were a push over.”

“A push over?”

“Yeah, only girls who put themselves about, hang out down there.”

“Where am I supposed to take the baby for a walk then, where it’s quiet and free from cars and lorries?”

“I dunno, do I? I mean, it’s not like I’ve had to take my baby out, is it? I mean, I’m not a teen mum, like someone I know.” She began to laugh. As I realised she was only pulling my leg, I laughed as well. “I dunno, Kylie, you’ve only like been a girl five minutes and already you’ve got yourself a reputation as a push over and people think you’re a teenage mum.”

I blushed, and tried to shrug it off. “Quick in here,” I pushed her into a little shop.

“I don’t want baby clothes,” she protested, “I’m not a teen mum, like someone we know.”

“Shush, look away.” I tried to spin her around as Brian walked past. A moment later there was a tap on the window and Brian was standing outside. He was beckoning to me–oh poo.

“Hi girls. Say, Kylie, you couldn’t like lend me a tenner, could ya?” I knew it would end in tears–what does he spend it on? He gets far more than I do–if I don’t count what Uncle Kit slipped me for baby sitting and making lunch that day. I did work hard, and I put all the dinner on.

I could see us all now, seated around the dining table–that means it’s gonna a be posh meal. I paraded out with this roast chicken, which Daddy carved while me and Mummy brought out several dishes of vegetables. Uncle Kit opened a bottle of wine and me and Brian were allowed to have a small drop as well. Can’t say I really liked it that much, but it was nice to be offered some.

I’d put the chicken in the oven after lunch, so it was cooked for ages on a lowish heat. The meat absolutely fell off the bone. I did the roast spuds in the other oven just like Mummy told me to, and they were brown and crisp. In fact everything was surprisingly edible. I expected Mummy to be home early, but she got held up–some kid in her school got knocked down sneaking off home–he was only nine, so there was a right hoo-ha about it. She looked quite frazzled when she got home. Even Daddy got home before her that night.

I had everything pretty well under control–at least I hoped I did. Brian was up in his room, so asking him for help was like asking for miracles–no, probably harder than that. I laid the table and checked everything. We were having melon for starters–so Mummy could do that when she got home–and some trifle for pudding.

I finished the table, making a little display with some flowers I cut from the garden. It looked amateurish, but that’s probably because I am. Then I slipped upstairs and after a little wash changed into a dress–not the one which had been irrigated the day before, another one. I redid my lippy and put on some mascara, checked my hair and nails, slipped into my red shoes–the ones with heels, a squirt of smellies and I was quite the little hostess.

I was pottering in the kitchen with an apron around me–well I seem to be a dirt magnet these days–when Daddy arrived. “Hi, Daddy,” I called throwing my arms around him.

He pecked me on the cheek and complimented me on my outfit and asked why I looked so tidy and where was my mother and Brian?”

“The Johnsons are coming to dinner, Mummy hasn’t got home yet and Brian is up in his room.”

“Okay, what’s the first course?” he asked.

“Melon.”

“Have you prepared it?”

“No, I don’t know how.”

“I don’t know how your mother was going to do it, if I show you, you can do the rest while I have a shower, okay?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I love it when they show me how to do something new.” He took out the two melons and cut them into quarters, longways, then told me to scoop out the seeds, we wash them and put them on the bird table in the winter. Then he took some oranges and cut them in quarters, and using some long wooden skewer things he upended the piece of orange into the middle of the melon so it was like a sail on a yacht. After that, he popped a cherry on the top of the skewer and placed his creation on a dish in the fridge. I thought it was so clever–I’d never have thought of it in a million years–okay, maybe in a few thousand.

While he scrubbed up and put on his best casual trousers and shirt–the one I bought him–he really likes it, I got on and made a whole fleet of melon boats. I was just finishing when Mummy arrived looking very harassed.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?” I stood aside to show her the fruits of my labours, quite literally this time. “Oh, I wasn’t going to do those.”

“Well you weren’t here,” I started to sniff. She should have been pleased with me, not disappointed. “It was Daddy’s idea, and I think it’s clever.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she gave me a monster hug, “You’ve done really well, that chicken smells so nice. Did you baste it with the glaze we made up last night?”

“Yes, Mummy, I did before I put it in the oven and a couple of times since.”

“You be careful around hot fat, my girl.”

“Well, you weren’t here to do it.”

“I know, its been a terrible day in school–for two pins, I’d go up to bed with a stiff drink and stay there.”

“But you can’t, Mummy, Auntie Em and Uncle Kit are coming in half an hour.”

“I know–I’d better go and shower, wash off the dirt of the day and all that stuff. Be an angel and make me a cuppa, will you–and bring it up.”

“What shall I do about the melon?”

“It’s fine, I’ll show you a little trick on presentation when I come back down, gotta go–don’t forget the tea, and I expect your dad’d like one too.” Ten minutes later I was delivering two cups of tea to the bedroom. Mum was already dressed–in trousers!

“You’re wearing trousers?” I gasped.

“Yes, why not? I mean, it’s your dinner party, so as long as you’re in a dress civilisation is quite safe.” She laughed and I heard Daddy chuckle from the bathroom.

“I hope Auntie Em is in a skirt,” I huffed as I left and heard them laugh again. I hoped they wouldn’t phone over the road and get her to wear trousers just to pull a prank on me.

They both came down a short while later, they both looked much better than when they’d arrived. Mummy showed me how to spray some wiggly lines from a can of cream on to the plates to make it look like the sea, although the plates had to be cold. She checked the dinner–everything was ready and right on time, the Johnsons arrived.

Auntie Em was wearing a pair of trousers too, with a matching shirt and a lovely pashmina. “Goodness, I’m the only one in skirt,” I grumbled.

“Well as our hostess, it is sort of accepted that you would have dressed for the occasion.” Auntie Em smirked as did Mummy and Daddy.

“And very smart you look, too,” said Uncle Kit who was in a pair of nice jeans and striped shirt–it looked expensive. Brian came down in his clean jeans and Batman tee shirt.

He was wearing the same tee shirt now, which may have strengthened the memory of that evening. Actually, he looked almost tidy for once. “C’mon Ky, let’s ‘ave that tenner.”

“I don’t think I’ve got a tenner, I just bought a new skirt.” I held up the bag for him to see.

“Don’t gimme that, Ky, I know you’ve got plenty. You never come shopping with less than thirty quid.” How did he know that. “Hi, Gem, how’s Karen?”

“She’s okay.”

“Give her my love.”

“Better disinfect it first,” I said stepping back sharply.

“Look ‘ere, Sis, jus’ ‘cos you’re a girl, don’t mean I can’t tan your arse in the middle of the shopping centre.”

Some how I managed to control my mouth, it nearly told him he wouldn’t dare–which is exactly what it would have taken to make him do it. Instead I made my own threat to sanctions, financial ones–“If you lay one finger on me, Brian Mosse, I won’t lend you anything.”

“Only kiddin’, Sis.” He smiled his most disarming smile and I glowered at him. I hated to think how much he’d borrowed over the past year, let alone over the last several. Talk about bad debts–he was like funding a third world country.

I handed him the money and he, smiled once again and walked off, “Oh, you both look very smart, ladies.” We smiled at him, ”Shows how appearances can be deceptive.”

We both frowned at him, he laughed out loud as he sped away. “Arsehole,” muttered Gemma under her breath. We both agreed on something very fundamental.

“Does Karen borrow from you?” I asked my companion.

“No way, she spends very carefully–she’ll, like, take all day deciding over which pair of knickers to buy.”

“Will she? Gosh, Mummy buys all mine–I mean, I like get to choose most of them.”

“Does your mum, choose all your clothes?”

“No, we have a fifty-fifty arrangement, I choose them–she pays for them.”

“Kylie, you are funny.” We continued window shopping for another half an hour and I spotted Philip walking towards us. He gave us both a hug and kissed me. Gemma smirked at that. “I dunno, Kylie, a girl for five minutes and you got a boyfriend.”

I blushed and felt like challenging her, but she’d eat me alive, so I let it pass. Philip however, replied, “Don’t you have one then, Gem?”

“No, I’m between them at the moment.” She said and I’m sure we both thought she was fibbing.

“’Cos I know someone who’d like to go out with you.”

“Like who?”

“Craig Lloyd.”

“Craig Lloyd, you serious?”

“Yeah, course I am.”

“But he’s in the year above us,” I said.

“Yeah, I know.” Philip wasn’t pleased at me stating the obvious.

“So how do you, like, know him, then?” Gemma voiced the question I wanted to ask.

“Badminton–he plays for the same team as me an’ Kylie.”

“He does?” I croaked in surprise. I mean everyone loved Craig Lloyd, he was clever and good looking and he was also good at sport. He was a very popular captain of the under fifteen’s rugby team, and one of the few boys not to tease or bully me.

“Kylie hasn’t long been a member of the club.”

“I wasn’t aware I was a member at all,” I said cynically.

“Yeah, Mum paid for it as a birthday present for you.”

“Glad you told me,” I said sarcastically, especially after she’d acted so badly the last time we’d played.

“Yeah, she wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s that alright.” It was too, especially to me.

“So, do you fancy going out with Craig?” Phillip asked Gemma.

“I might do.”

“If you want me to organise it, I’m gonna need a bit more enthusiasm than that,” Philip said bluntly.

“Well, alright then, like set it up.” As soon as Gemma said this, Philip pulled out his phone and speed dialled.

“The eagle has landed,” he said into his phone and laughed. Gemma and I looked at each other.

“Isn’t that something to do with the Apollo moon landings?” I asked, or some old film with Clint Eastwood? I had a vague recollection of Daddy watching it, he might even have it on DVD.

“How do I know,” shrugged Philip, “it was long before my time.”

“How do you know, Kylie?” said Gemma poking me gently, “I mean it’s hardly a girl thing, is it?”

“My dad is into science and stuff, I pick it up by osmosis.”

“Eeeewwch,” said Gemma pulling a face, “my dad is too, but I don’t.”

“So what do you learn, then?”

“What, from my dad?” she asked.

“Yeah, from him.”

“Mainly how to wrap him around my little finger–what else are dads for?”

“Okay, point taken.” I let her think I was in agreement, but I hoped I had more respect for my father than that–he was after all a decent enough chap, and he spoilt me anyway–recently, he’d also become quite protective of me, more so than he’d been when I was a boy. So I had no complaints, at the same time, I didn’t have to share it with them.

“See, we’ll make a girl of you yet, Kylie,” Gemma laughed.

“I think nature got there first,” challenged Philip, “I mean we’ve all treated her like a girl for much longer than she’s admitted it. I know you called her Kylie, ‘cos she told me and Karen always referred to her as Brian’s little sister, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, okay, we always like thought she was more girl than boy–and Mummy always thought she was a girl. We just didn’t correct her, which is probably just as well.”

I reflected upon this–it was just as well, Mrs Smith didn’t know–otherwise my nuts would have been toast, after I shared a bed with Gemma that night. They have always called me Kylie, and treated me as a girl, now I think about it. At times it irritated me–but maybe they were seeing things I couldn’t. I still can’t believe all of his arose because Mummy caught me dressed as a schoolgirl, the day of the aborted letter recovery. It’s perhaps ironic, that the person who had the most difficulty with my changeover was Brian, yet he precipitated it all. Without his harebrained scheme, I’d still be Kyle and pretending to be a boy. I wonder if I ever would have discovered that I should have been a girl, left to my own devices? Part of me doubts it.

“Hi, Craig,” called Philip to someone behind me, besides I was lost in my own thoughts. “This is Gemma, and Kylie.”

“Hi, Gemma, so you’re Karen’s sister?” Gemma blushed and went all shy. She nodded her reply. “One of the best looking girls in town, your sister…” I thought he’d just killed his romance prematurely then he saved it, “It obviously runs in the family, because you are too.” He took her hand and kissed it. A few months ago, I’d have pretended to make vomit noises, now I thought it was cute, if a little corny.

“You look familiar,” said Craig looking at me. “Kylie? Didn’t we used to call that rock music geek, Kylie?” I was blushing. “Geez, it is you, isn’t it?”

“Relax, Craig, it’s all above board–Kylie is transgendered or transsexual or whatever, which means she’s really a girl and is having treatment for it.” Philip came to my rescue. “I mean we all thought she was really a girl anyway, I mean Gemma’s mum always treated her as a girl and isn’t aware of the change over.”

“Yeah, okay, it’s kewl alright–it’s you that’s gonna be kissing her not me. Gemma’s all girl, I can see that.”

“So is Kylie,” protested Philip.

“What? she had the operation then?”

“No, but take it from me, she is a girl,” Philip reassured his friend.

“It’s true, Craig,” said Gemma, “she really is a girl.”

“Where we goin’ then?” asked Craig.

“There’s a couple of good films on at the multiplex,” suggested Philip.

“Sounds kewl,” Craig agreed and we got steered towards the cinema. In lots of ways it felt nice letting the boys think they were deciding what to do. Either Gem or I could have vetoed it with a single word, but we didn’t.

I offered to pay for my ticket but Philip refused my offer, Gemma didn’t even offer. I wasn’t sure who was doing it right, maybe we both were–all I know is Mummy told me the first time I went out with Philip, to pay my way, then the boy has no leverage to try and go too far. It made sense then and still does now.

We watched a chick flick which Gem wanted to see. It was okay and I was sniffing before the end, and Philip had his arm around me. I noticed that Gem and Craig were getting very friendly, trying to chew each other’s face off. So Philip and I had a few kisses too.

When we came out of the cinema, we went for a milk shake and then Philip walked me home. I think Craig may still have been getting his head around my change in status, but to be fair to him, he kept it to himself if he was having problems.

We arrived home at tea time and Mummy invited Philip to stay to eat, he was about to decline when she said, “Kylie’s cooking, aren’t you sweetheart?” It was the first I’d heard of it.

There are some advantages to being a girl, but equally, there are some disadvantages–treating boys as if they are helpless morons, is one of the latter, even if it’s often true.

Thanks to Gabi for express editing.

Totally Insane 30 - Educations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 30–Educations.
by Angharad

Merry Christmas Trish

Time seems to fly when you’re enjoying yourself, even the Romans knew that, Tempus fugit when beating the brown stuff out of the Gauls. I only know this because I was like reading some history the other day. I like history, it doesn’t have any surprises does it? Not like the present or the future. I mean take the other day, I knew it was going to be a good one when Brian actually paid back some of the millions he must owe me by now.

“Here, Sis, the money I owe you.” He handed me a ten pound note. “So we’re quits now.”

“Excuse me?” I looked at him angrily.

“That’s the money I owe you.”

“What about the rest?”

“You don’t need to rest, do you?” he asked.

“No, the rest of the money you’ve borrowed?”

“Like when? I borrowed that the other week when you were with Gemma–remember?”

“Yes, and before that?” I asked my voice becoming shrill.

“I can’t remember that far back, so you could be lying for all I know. Anyway, loan us a tenner,” and before I could say anything he snatched the one he’d just given me out of my hand and was gone. I was speechless.

The phone began to ring and I answered it, “Hello?”

“Hello, is your mother there?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Okay, I’ll ring later.”

“Who shall I say called?”

“The school secretary.”

“Can’t you just walk down the corridor and speak to her?”

“Is she here then?”

It suddenly occurred to me that this could be a different school. “Um–which school is that?”

“Emmeline Pankhurst School for Girls, which school did you think I meant?”

“Sorry, I got confused, can I ask her to call you back?”

“Of course–are you Kylie?”

My tummy flipped over, “Um–yes, why?”

“We wondered if you’d like to come in for the last couple of weeks of term, so next term you’ll have more idea of what it’s like here.”

“Um–I’ll ask Mummy to call you back later.”

“Okay, Kylie, bye for now.”

I felt a little drop of sweat run down my armpit–this was seriously going to compromise my time with Sarah, which is better than any old school–but I know Mummy won’t see it that way. I sent her a text.

She sent me one back: Don’t forget U have to see the Dr 2morrow. Love, Mum XXX. She doesn’t really do texting.

Oh poo, that’s two things to frighten me to death–the last visit to Dr Shrinkitoff was far from pleasant but she did promise to think about giving me some ’mones if I’m still running about in skirts next year. Now, the big question is–da–da–will I? How do I know? The way I feel about it, I probably will–but then, a girl is entitled to change her sex–um I mean, her mind. Whoops, bit of a Freudian slip there, whatever a freud is?

Fancy me thinking Brian would pay back his debts–if I say anything to Mummy, he’ll be very difficult to deal with in future and he does come in handy now and again. But then at his rates, I could probably buy in a professional bodyguard.

I need to decide what I’ll have to wear to the quack’s, that’s what Daddy calls doctors–not to their face, I’ll bet. I examined my expanding wardrobe, I probably had more girl’s clothes than boy ones, how quickly that has happened–just a few weeks against umpteen years–that is well scary. At this rate of expansion, by the time I get the magic pills, my wardrobe will cover most of the known world. I still won’t know what to wear–doh!

The weather was quite warm so I decided on a little blue number with lots of tiny bluebells over it, they’ve gone over now, but I enjoy seeing them in the park where they come up under the trees in a sort of wild part. It isn’t really, just deliberate neglect, but it has lots of insects and the odd squirrel there. Someone said it was part of an old orchard from some big house, but I thought orchards were full of apple trees and I don’t think there’s any there, except a crab apple. We used to have one of those in the garden until Mummy hit it with the car–she was learning to drive, I was only a baby, and she pressed the accelerator instead of the brake. The stump is still near the garage wall.

I don’t have a school uniform, and I’m sure the Emmie Pankhurst school has a uniform policy. Oh well that’s Mummy’s problem, I’d better get over to Aunt Em’s before it gets any later.

I clopped across the road in my new sandals–bit of a con job on Daddy when we last went into town, it’s like so easy to get him to spoil me. So I suppose he’s taken to having a daughter quite well. Gemma’s advice on twirling him around my little finger has been very useful. Mummy isn’t such a pushover, but she’s been a girl herself, so she knows all the ruses.

I spent the rest of the day with Auntie Em and Baby Sarah. I wore the little silver chain and matching earrings she gave me, and she noticed. Since I got my ears pierced, I’ve bought half a dozen pairs of earrings and had a few more given to me as presents. Gemma’s dad gave me some for sorting out the locks the night of her birthday party. Those were silver ones with small butterflies in little crystals, they looked like diamonds, but I don’t think they were.

Auntie Em an’ me took the baby out in her pram, we didn’t go near the park this time or the horrid footballers, mind you I think the football season is over now, so I s’pose they’d be playin’ cricket. I used to hate games ‘cos I was lousy at them, except badminton, and that’s only since I um–changed my sports clothes to the frilly knickers and tennis skirt. Common sense seems to tell me that is silly, as if playing in a skirt would improve my game over wearing shorts. So what else could it be?

I discussed this with Auntie Em at lunch and the conversation went something like this–“The school phoned today, they want me to go in for the last two weeks of term.”

“Your old school phoned?” asked Auntie Em.

“No, the new one–Emmie Pankhursts.”

“Ooh, very posh, so we’ll get to see you in your smart new uniform soon, that’ll be nice, won’t it, Sarah?” Sarah giggled because Auntie Em pulled a funny face as she spoke.

“You’ve seen me in that school uniform,” I pouted.

“Have I? Goodness, when was that?”

“The first time you saw me, when you gave me that bag of clothes from your sister–I undid your lock if you remember?”

“Oh goodness, I’d forgotten that. Of Course we did, didn’t we Sarah,” Auntie Em tickled her little foot and Sarah squealed–I hope my ears will recover one day.

“I wonder if they do sport there?” I pondered out loud.

“Course they will, probably netball, hockey, tennis, maybe badminton, some girls’ schools even do football and boxing these days.”

“Boxin’?–Yeewwch, and football is nearly as bad.”

“I don’t know if you have to do them, Kylie, but I suspect you’ll have to do one or the other.”

“Can you see me boxing or playing soccer–honestly, Auntie Em?”

“In these days of equality, anything is possible, Kylie.”

“Oh puuulllease, Auntie Em. Me? Boxing? That would be like Brian doing ballet.” She laughed and so did Sarah, I did so as well. The idea of me doing sport was ridiculous.

“But you were competing against boys, now you’d be against other girls–they’re not quite so rough.”

“I’ll bet they are in boxing–the sort of girl who goes in for it, is probably built like a brick sh…” I blushed, and Auntie Em smirked.

“Actually, Kylie, according to one article I read, women’s boxing, is to be included in the next Olympics.”

“That’s silly, girls aren’t meant to fight, that’s what boys do.”

“I think you might have a bit of an eye-opener when you go to a girls’ school full time.”

“What you’ve seen girls fighting, Auntie Em?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh yes, usually over boys, but sometimes over other things.”

“You didn’t fight, did you, Auntie Em?”

She blushed, “Well, only once and she had it coming to her.” She was blushing profusely as she spoke.

“Oh, do tell,” I grinned, I loved a bit of gossip.

“I was about your age and we had a real cow in our class, she used to trip me up and push me. She stole my gym kit once and even ate my sandwiches. One day she pushed me too far quite literally–it was into a wire fence surrounding the tennis courts and it ripped my coat. I was so mad because of what my mum was going to say, that I turned around and whacked her one with my brolly.”

“Where did you hit her?” this was exciting stuff.

“On the head.”

“Gosh, that can be like, dangerous.”

“I know Kylie, but I was so mad and it was all her fault, so if I had hurt her she only had herself to blame.”

“What did she do?”

“She went running to a teacher and I got detention for a whole week.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s what I thought and I felt like belting her again, but she never bothered me after that, so I didn’t need to. It raised my profile in the school as one of the few girls who’d stood up to the bully and got away with it.”

“What happened then?”

“I was just more popular with the other girls and the other bullies left me alone.”

“So it worked out then?”

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.”

“It was hardly a fight, though was it?”

“It scared me at the time, so I thought it was.”

“Yeah but boys kick and punch each other several times in one of their fights. I know Brian does.”

“Oh, girls can do that too–a catfight–where they grab hold of each other’s hair and pull it, or scram each other–that can go on for a while.”

“Crikey, I hope I don’t get into any fights, I don’t fancy anyone pulling my hair or scramming me.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Kylie, but it isn’t impossible, that’s all I meant to say.”

“Thanks for the warning, Auntie Em.” Maybe there wasn’t as much difference as I thought between boys’ and girls’ schools.

“What sport are you going to do?”

“I have no idea, maybe badminton?”

“Or tennis or cricket?”

“Cricket? I thought that was a boys’ game.”

“Well the England ladies team won the Ashes before the men’s team did.”

“Gosh, I don’t really want to do any sport–I’m rubbish at all of them–plus the problem of using the showers.”

“Lots of places have separate showers these days.”

“But if I don’t get all hot and sweaty in the first place, I won’t need them.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a choice, besides, sport is good for you.”

“Except, a shower could be kinda lethal to me if the others find out.”

“They’ll gossip about smelly Kylie if you don’t shower.”

“Let them.”

“I don’t think you understand how hurtful that can be in a girls’ school.”

“I’m used to it in a boys’ one.”

“But that was as a boy, Kylie, or trying to be one, this will be very different and very unkind. Most girls fight with their tongues and it can be very hurtful indeed.”

I really did wonder what I was getting into–I thought they’d all be like Gemma and the other girls at the sleepover, or like Karen. From what Auntie Em was saying I might be jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Was all this, such a good idea?

A bit later on, I told Auntie Em I had to go to start the dinner.

“What are you having?”

“Sausage and mash–same old boring same old.”

"It doesn't have to be boring, you know?"

“You can make it more interesting.”

“Of course you can, Kylie–any dish can be boring if you choose to make it so–or exciting.”

“How can I make it more exciting?” Auntie Em told me five or six ways I could make things more interesting so instead of plain ol’ sos and mash, I’m doing a sausage casserole with a garlic and onion sauce–it’s gravy really, but it sounds really tasty. She told me how to do it and I wrote some crib notes, especially with the gravy, but as well I part cook the spuds in the microwave and then slice them and finish the cooking on top of the sausages–like a hotpot, whatever that is? I’m going to call it sausage hotpot, see if anyone wants to argue after they’ve tasted it.

Gosh it was trickier than I thought, but I was nearly there–I just sliced the spuds and burnt my fingers–and put the spuds on the top of the sausages and popped it back in the oven. I was washing my incinerated fingers when Brian came in.

“Hmm, that smells good,” he said getting a can of Coke from the fridge.

“It’s taken me all afternoon,” I pouted, it wasn’t quite true, but then Brian couldn’t make toast even with a recipe.

“What is it?”

“The smell?”

“Yes, you dumb chick.”

“My burnt fingers.”

“Make a change from fish fingers–having said that, it’d be the same, wouldn’t it if they’re your fingers.”

“Eh? How d’you make that out?”

“Fish–another name for girls, innit.”

“Is it? First I’ve heard of it.”

“Some bloody woman you are then.”

“I’m new at this, Brian, you know that.”

“Oh well, I’ve just taught you something new then, haven’t I?”

Why did I know this wasn’t a very nice thing to learn? “Why are girls called fish?”

“Cos of the smell from their–um–you know.”

“Brian, that is revolting and none of the girls I know smell anything but sweet.”

“You wait, it’ll happen to you one day too.”

“Ugh, you are so revolting–and where’s my tenner?” He ran off to his room, and I wondered how I could forget what he’d just told me. He stank like–a–a dead pig. Half-a- hour later, I was still tutting at what he’d told me when I jumped as Mummy spoke behind me. “Oh, Mummy, you made me jump,” I shrieked.

“Calm down, girl, ooh that smells nice–I thought we were having bangers and mash.”

“Um–not quite.”

“Okay, darling, what are we having?”

“Sausage hotpot.” I puffed out my chest.

“Oh super, darling, are we having veg with it?”

“There’s veg in it.”

“Well do a few peas as well, there’s a good girl–I’m going for a shower, put the kettle on there’s a dear.” She kissed me on the cheek and I stood open-mouthed as she disappeared out of the door.

“There’s such a thing as child slavery, you know,” I shouted after her, but all she did was cackle back. I’ll bet she wouldn’t have got Brian to do any of this, fish or no fish.

I’d just managed to put some peas on to heat and made her a cuppa when she came down again. “Hmm, that does smell good, darling, did you make it up by yourself?”

“No, Auntie Em told me how to do it.”

“Still you had to do it, didn’t you?”

“I s’pose so.”

“I know so, darling.” She kissed me again, “And you know how to make me a cuppa–that is pure bliss.” I think I may have blushed.

“Do girls fight in your school?”

“Occasionally, not anywhere near as often as the boys–they’re always squabbling and hitting each other. Why?”

“Auntie Em told me they do fight sometimes.”

“Well yes, they do but it isn’t something I’d dwell upon, it’s quite uncommon.”

“I’d have thought fighting was very common.”

“No, it’s almost rare, or used to be.”

“But, aren’t girls who fight, common?”

She laughed, “In that sense, yes, you cheeky monkey.”

“Did you phone the school?”

“Oh yes, I rang Hanky-Pankies.”

“Hanky-Pankies?”

“Yes, that’s what we call it, being a grammar school it tends to think it’s above the rest, but it does get very good exam results.”

“Brian always calls it something beginning with W,” I ventured.

“I wouldn’t listen to anything Brian says, he tries to shock.”

“He did earlier.”

“Why, what did he say?”

“He called me fish.”

“Did he now, well I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you for many years, if ever.”

“I think it’s very common, Mummy–and it’s not nice.”

“I agree–don’t take any notice of Brian, he’s at that age–he’ll grow out of it one day.”

“When?”

“By the time he’s forty, I expect.” She laughed and that set me off.

“What about my uniform for the new school?”

“Yes, your father can take you tomorrow to get it, I have a list of all the things you’ll need.”

“You’re not taking me then?”

“I just said, Daddy’s taking you–I’ll take you to the clinic. What are you going to wear?” Then before I could answer, she said, “You could always wear your new uniform.”

“Um–but I…”

“Yes, you can wear your new uniform. C’mon then, let’s get this show on the road,” she said opening the oven door.

At breakfast the next day, Mummy told Daddy I was going to wear my new uniform to the clinic and she’d be so proud of me–she was also sure Dr Schlessinger would be too. Daddy seemed more interested in wondering how much everything would cost.

“Do I have to do sport?” I whined.

“Yes, and gym,” said my mother, “so you’ll need two leotards and tennis stuff.”

“For two weeks?” I gasped.

“Yes, Rosemary, this is going to be rather a lot for two weeks.”

“It’ll fit next term, she hasn’t grown in months, has she?”

So Mummy got her way and I had the indignity of trying on all of these things in the school outfitters shop. Daddy gave up counting after a thousand pounds–I could have got a new computer for that. All he did on the drive back was mutter, “Bloody women,” all the way home–the boot of the car was absolutely packed full of my school clothes.

I did think that I’d wind him up by saying, “I think I want to go back to being a boy, Daddy.”

“No way, kiddo, unless you wear this stuff while you do it.”

Damn, how did he just fend that off so easily?

We had lunch at home, Mummy came in as we were making tea, I’ll swear she can smell the pot. She made us a sandwich each and then sent me up to change into my new uniform. I donned the skirt and white blouse with the stripy tie. Why do girls want to wear ties, for God’s sake? I just got rid of my old one, dumped it in Brian’s room.

I felt hot in the blazer and the tie, sitting in the waiting room for Dr Shrinkwinkie, we were early and I could feel the sweat dripping down my underarm–so much for antiperspirants. I did sniff it once, but I couldn’t smell any fish.”

Thanks to Bonzi for allowing Gabi to edit this rubbish into some sort of readable rubbish.

Totally Insane 31 - Lamentations.

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 31–Lamentations.
by Angharad

“Kylie–my, you do look smart; quite the image of academia juvenalis.”

Mummy laughed–to see such fun and the dish ran away with the spoon. If I’d understood what she’d said, I might have laughed too, instead I pouted.

“Don’t do that dear, you’ll get lines,” my mother instructed. Lines–I’d have to write lines for pulling a face? So much for a free country–this being a girl seems even harder than being a boy.

“So how are you, Kylie?” asked Dr Andrea.

“All–right, I s’pose.”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound like you, Kylie,” commented the doctor.

Sod it, I decided to strike blow for emancipation, “Well, it seems I’m gonna be in trouble whatever I do.”

“Why’s that?” she looked concerned.

“Well, Mummy said I’d get lines if I made any faces.”

“Yes, I think she was joking–you’re far too young to worry about lines, especially if you moisturise regularly.”

“How can I be too young for lines, they used to make us do them as a punishment in junior school?”

At this disclosure both of the women fell about laughing and I was very close to tears. You’d think two women I should be able to trust not to ridicule me, had done just that.

“Oh, Kylie, you are so funny,” Mummy chuckled, wiping away a tear.

“Huh, well I don’t think so,” I huffed and pouted again.

“I meant lines on your face, you silly goose.”

Ah, now the moisturiser made sense–and I felt even more stupid. Is that possible?

“Oh,” I said and blushed even redder and got so hot, I felt sure there was steam coming out of my ears.

“Kylie, lovely as it looks, would you like to take off your blazer–you look rather too warm to be comfortable.”

I nodded and removed the garment, which meant I was sitting in a short sleeved blouse and short pleated skirt, with a tie, short frilly ankle socks and black Mary Janes.

“I don’t think we need the tie either, unless you’d prefer to wear it?”

I shook my head and removed it in seconds, throwing it to my mother, who was not impressed with my casual behaviour towards these new and expensive clothes–the tie cost about twelve quid–Daddy nearly collapsed with heart failure when he looked through the detailed receipt. He muttered something about me skipping this bit, because university had to be cheaper and no uniforms were required.

I pointed out to him that they wouldn’t allow me into university until I was at least seventeen. His rejoinder–“Can’t you just lie about your age?”

Back in Dr Andrea’s room, things were cooling down–she produced a jug of cold lemon barley, and I enjoyed the glass she gave me, except when my tummy rumbled–well it was actually more like water going down a plughole–that bit at the end, when it makes a zinging noise before the final bloop. That was my tummy, and each time I swallowed some it made the same noise. I wondered if I should stand up-and do other kids have the same problem? The two adults pretended not to notice.

“How is school going? I presume the uniform means you’ve been brought out of school to see me?”

“Not quite, doctor, I’ve been asked to start on Monday instead of next term.”

“So you’ll get a couple or three weeks before the end of term–what a good idea–you’ll get a good taste of what it’s all about and have a nice holiday to recuperate before starting it permanently. That’s a super idea–who thought of it?”

“They did–least they phoned me to ask if I’d like to try.”

“And you said, ‘yes’, what a brave girl you are.”

“Um–no–I like said---aaaargghh.”

“Oh–and why was that?”

“It’s like terrifying–I, like, have been there before.”

“When was that?”

“It’s what started it all off–remember?”

“Oh yes, your brother’s love life?”

I nodded.

“But then, you were in danger because they might discover you were a boy.”

“I’m still in danger of that–if they do, I’m like, so dead.”

“Why should they do that–you look very convincing to me.”

“I don’t have any boobs and I do have dangly bits–that sort of constitutes not being your average girl.”

“Well, a strong pair of panties should stop the discovery unless you are seen showering.”

“I’ve got some special panties, and I wear a bra with padding, but I could still be caught.”

“Well there’s nothing I can do about that, Kylie. I’m afraid that becoming a girl was bound to involve some risks on your part. Last time we talked I was under the impression that you were prepared for that. Are you having second thoughts about it all?”

I looked at the carpet, seeing faces in the random pattern which became most interesting.

“Kylie, I asked you a question. Are you having second thoughts?”

“About what?” I tried to distract her to give me time to think about my answer.

“Are you thinking of changing your mind about being a girl?”

“No–at least I don’t think so–I’m just worried about going back to that school and what could go wrong.”

“The school knows about you?”

“Yes, they were prepared to take me if I’d been assessed as transgendered, Mummy got our doctor to do us a letter, saying I was seeing you.”

“I see, you could have asked me for the letter–no matter,” which didn’t sound quite true, because momentarily, she went red in the face, then seemed to calm down–oops we’d unintentionally crossed one of her protowotsits–prototypes? Nah, um–protocols that’s the word.

“I’d be less worried if I had boobs, then at least I’d look like a girl.”

“I’m sure that plenty of your contemporaries are as small boobed as you are–and I did promise to reconsider in a year’s time, if you are still with the programme.”

“Programme?” I muttered to myself–this woman is crazier than me. Now she thinks it’s about something she saw on the telly.

“You looked puzzled, Kylie–the programme is planning how we deal with your transition and checking on its progress.”

“Ah, yes, I knew that–I was just checking.”

“So what bothers you about school?”

“Apart from going, you mean?” I asked.

“Well yes, we are having some communication difficulties today, aren’t we?”

“I learned that girls can be very cruel to each other and presumably even more to an outsider. I’ll be an outsider.”

“Indeed they can–but so can boys, as you probably already know?”

“I coped with boys–it’s girls I’m worried about now.”

“So you said.”

“I just hope I can fit in or I’m toast.”

“I’m sure you will–you’ll know one or two girls there won’t you?”

“Yes, I did a sleep-over with some of them the other week.”

“Well, I suspect if they didn’t find you out then, you’ll be safe enough in a school uniform.”

“I don’t know–they can be pretty mean by all accounts–Auntie Em was saying about a fight she had in school.”

“That’s the exception rather than the rule, but I notice you’re saying they not we–is there a reason for this or do you see them as separate to you?”

“I don’t understand the question, doctor.”

“Do you see yourself as a boy or a girl?”

“A girl, why?”

“So why are the girls in school, they?”

“Because at the moment, I’m not one of them–once I get used to the place and have some friends, then it’ll be us–is that what you mean?”’

“Exactly that–thank you, Kylie, you answered that very well.”

Phew–I just managed to talk my way out of that one–the reason why it’s they and not us, is the place is like a zoo if what other people say is true. Just as well I didn’t say that though–I’d never get my ’mones.

“As you’re undergoing a very stressful period, it might be useful for you to see me each week.”

“How am I going to fit that in? If I come out of school to see you and they find out–I’ll be a laughing stock. Kylie’s crazy–sees a shrink, you know the sort of stuff.”

“Why will they need to know?” asked the doctor.

“They’ll find out they always do–and you said how cruel girls can be.”

“Would you cope for two weeks without seeing me?”

I wasn’t sure she’d helped me very much other than diagnosing me as a freak officially; so I was pretty sure I’d cope without help.

“Yeah–I’ll try.”

“You are such a brave young woman, aren’t you?”

Me? I was the biggest wimp on the planet–but if she wants to think that, it’s okay with me. “Some have greatness thrust upon them,” I said desperately trying to keep a straight face.

She looked at me very seriously: “Taking the piss out of your psychiatrist is a serious offence.”

Gulp! “I’m sorry, I didn’t like mean it that way,” I could feel my eyes becoming moist.

Then she winked at me–“What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander,” she laughed loudly then added, “Your face was a picture.” She was still chuckling to herself.

Hmm, the biter bit–I’m not getting into mind games with a psycho–I mean psychiatrist, I can only lose the contest. However, I did mutter, “They say women are more cruel than men.” This was true, my dad was a pushover, Mummy was like a brick wall–unless it was dealing with Brian, then she always took my part.

“Ouch–touché, you’re learning to fire from the lip pretty quick, aren’t you.”

“I have a brother who is older and bigger than I am, and who needs to be kept in his place or he’d make my life unbearable.”

“How has he adapted to your change?”

“He makes fun of me when he thinks Mummy isn’t listening, he’s also hit me once or twice–but that got Daddy rather excited; so most of the time he’s okay–when he’s not treating me like the maid.”

“How do you mean?”

“He seems to think I’m there to fetch and carry for him.”

“And do you?”

“When it suits me.”

“When does it suit you?”

“If I want him to do something for me.”

“I see–but it sounds as if he’s actually treating you like a sister?”

“Mostly–I s’pose.”

“That’s good–isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I s’pose.”

“He could still be calling you names or threatening you?”

“Daddy won’t allow any of that, he threatened to reduce his pocket money if he didn’t leave me alone.”

“Your daddy–is that what you call him to his face?”

“Yeah, is there anything wrong with that?” I blushed.

“Not at all, if that’s what you like to call him and he doesn’t mind. He’s very protective of you, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but it’s nice, he spoils me much more as a girl than he ever did as a boy.”

“So you have an incentive to stay as a girl?”

What was she on about–doesn’t she know how tough this is to do?

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s easier to be daddy’s girl than be his son, too much competition from your elder brother–isn’t that true?”

I felt very angry–what was she implying? How dare she?

“Why do you keep doubting me? Have you ever tried living as a boy and being accepted as such by everyone?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well when you have–then you’ll have a better idea of how I feel, won’t you? All you do is try to prove me wrong–I don’t know why I keep coming to see you?”

“Because you want hormones, remember?”

“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worthwhile for that–besides, I can buy them over the internet.”

“If you do–I think you’ll find Daddy will become very angry with his little girl, and so will I–and it’ll count against you getting them from me or any other doctor. Fine, you can give yourself a feminised body–but you still need us–even someone as clever as you can’t do surgery on yourself, can you?”

She had an answer for everything. She called all the shots–I actually feel like a little girl here–a six year old, I’m so helpless.

“Why are you so horrible to me,” I said and the tears began.

She handed me a box of tissues–“Kylie, I need to be sure you’re not making any mistakes that can’t be rectified. I don’t want you to have a female body and a few years down the line decide you want to be a man–your testes will be useless by then and reverting back will be very difficult. I like you a lot–you’re a lovely kid, and I’m fairly sure you are transgendered–but I need to be certain before I prescribe hormones.”

“That’s a year away–you’ve got loads of time to mess with my head before then.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“That’s what you’ve done the last twice–I don’t really like coming here anymore.”

“Do you want to see someone else?”

“What’s the point, I’d like have to start all over again–and still have to wait for the ‘mones.”

“So–that’s all you’re coming for–until I prescribe hormones?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“In which case you’d better have some then, hadn’t you.” She pulled out a prescription pad and wrote on it–tore off the top sheet and handed it to me.

I wasn’t sure how I felt–I know I was crying as my shaking hand accepted the form. “Are these, like female hormones?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“If that’s all you’re here for you might as well go, hadn’t you?”

I clutched the piece of paper tightly, “I’m sorry, I got upset with you.”

“I’m sorry I seemed to provoke you, but I had to be certain. If you were prepared to go through several more of these interviews just for a few pills at the end of it, you were either addicted to the idea, or serious. I hope it’s the latter because I’ve just overturned everything I believed in about children’s therapy.”

“I’m sorry to have been a nuisance,” I sniffed and she passed me the tissues again.

“You haven’t been a nuisance–you’re a challenge, and I need to be challenged now and again–keeps me thinking about what I’m doing rather than simply doing it. I suspect you see me as a challenge?”

“A bit, but underneath you’re a nice lady, really.”

“It’s a good job you’re going from boy to girl–if I did this the other way round, you’d stop growing, which is why transsexual men tend to be a bit short compared to genetic men.”

“I’d have thought male hormones would make you grow?”

“Sideways yes–you build muscle and heavier bones–but remain vertically challenged. That shouldn’t happen with those, but even if it did–you’d be tall enough for a woman–just.”

I hoped I’d grow a bit more–or be a woman dwarf. Maybe I should hold on for a bit longer with the pills. “Are these like, gonna make me shorter?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“It’s okay–I just wondered that’s all.”

“They’re not going to change you overnight you know–they’re very low dosage, but I’ve kept my word, I’ve prescribed them within a year.”

“Yes, thank you, I appreciate it, and you haven’t made a mistake–I’ll never be a boy again.”

“I think I know that, Kylie–good luck with school, and I’m here if you need me,” she offered me her hand, instead I gave her a hug–it felt more what I needed to do. She patted my back and quietly said, “You’re all girl, aren’t you?”

I nodded and sniffed as I left the room. As soon as we got the prescription and I started the pills–I was committed to being a girl for the rest of my life. Big decision time–I swallowed hard, and Dr Andrea asked my mother to go in.

“I don’t know how you wheedled that out of Dr Schlessinger, but your father is not going to be impressed–not one bit.”

“He doesn’t have to take them.” After the fight I had to get them, I wasn’t going to give them up.

“You realise they could make you sick in the morning–as if you were pregnant.”

“I’d prefer they could make me pregnant, rather than sick.”

“Kylie–that‘s not funny–besides if you knew what was involved in giving birth, you wouldn’t say that.”

“Can’t be any worse than having my doodah cut off and turned inside out.”

“Why–?Are you still thinking about it?”

“Well yes, I can’t have sex with Philip until it’s done.” I only said it for effect–and what an effect.

Mummy stood there blushing and virtually frothing at the mouth. “I can’t believe you just said that–you haven’t been doing anything–have you?”

I laughed so much I dropped my blazer, and nearly wet myself when I bent down to pick it up. “Course not–what d’you think I am?”

“For a moment there, I wasn’t quite sure.”

All the way to the shops, she looked at me smirked and sniggered. We got the pills–it was a private prescription, so we had to pay for the pills and a dispensing fee–wow, I’m used to free prescriptions because I’m still in school. This was twenty quid, Mummy was not impressed. I was told, I’d better do some more babysitting or lock-smithing because I’d have to pay for the next one.

Then we drove home, her making funny little grunts to herself and sniggering. I wonder if she’s going senile? I hope not–I’m too young to become a home nurse–though it would get me out of having to go back to that school. Hmm–I wonder if Daddy could get her certified?

Thanks to Gabi for keeping me on the straight and narrow, any mistakes remaining are all Bonzi's fault.

Totally Insane 32 - Medications

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 32–Medications.
by Angharad

“She’s taking what?” I heard my father’s voice from the kitchen. I knew it referred to my newly won oestrogen pills. Anyway, I’d taken the first, so was never going to be the same again–never ever. I was female now, with her-mones swimming about my insides. God, it felt so good–I’m sure I could feel my boobs growing–just a little bit.

I was changing out of my school uniform and back into my jeans–goodness they felt tight going over my hips–surely they hadn’t widened already? Um–no, they hadn’t, I forgot to undo the zip in the front–duh!

I went down to face the wrath of my father–a few tears should sort it. I went into the kitchen, “Hello, Daddy, you’re home early.” I threw myself at him and hugged him, which wrong footed him. He’ll know he’s been had, but by then it’ll be too late.

“Hello, Kylie–I don’t know how you wheedled these pills from your shrink, but I can’t say I approve.”

“She said I was ready for them.”

“That isn’t what she said to me, young lady.” Trust my mother to queer my pitch. “She admitted you’d outmanoeuvred her and she was making an exception for you.”

“Well? She said I was exceptional, so that’s why.”

“She told me she understood your concerns about going to a girl’s school without much breast development.”

“Yeah, well it’s true–Gemma’s growing boobs, so I should be too.”

“I don’t think you fully understand what these pills can do to you.” Now Daddy was winding up for the full lecture.

“Yes I do–Dr Andrea said they’d stop me having children–so I’m on the contradictive pill–so what?”

My father stifled a snigger–it was supposed to be a serious brow beating–he wasn’t doing too well, and a snigger would completely blow his authority. He managed to turn it into a snort, then gave another as if to prove it wasn’t related to his lack of self control–it just made him sound like a horse with hay fever. I wonder if horses get it–hay fever, I mean.

“...so these pills are quite dangerous. Do you understand?”

I nodded although I hadn’t listened to one bit of what he’d been saying.

“Kylie, are you listening to me?” he sounded quite irritated.

“Of course I am, Daddy, I always listen to everything you say–you’re such a clever man, and know so much about everything.”

“No I’m not, but I do know a bit about pharmaceuticals. Did you know that some of these are made from horse’s urine.”

What? Black Beauty’s wee? Oh my goodness, have I like just swallowed horsey pee or Daddy’s bull excrement? “So, as long as you wash your hands afterwards, does it matter?” I tried to put a brave face on it.

“These aren’t...”I breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re synthetic; ethinyloestradiol,” he went on and I switched off again.

I mean, like who cares what they are if they make my boobs grow. He’s got to learn about priorities, and mine are having tits and a girly bum.

“...You might find yourself feeling sick in the morning for a couple of weeks, but it soon passes.”

“I’ll be alright, Daddy, I’m sure Dr Andrea wouldn’t give me anything that was bad for me.” I hugged him tightly, once I got his approval, the rest would follow, “and I’ll be ever so careful.”

“Okay, sweetheart, I agree you can use them for the moment and let’s see where it takes you. But if you take them for any length of time, you can’t go back to being a boy–you know that?”

Duh–why does he think I’m taking them? “I know that, Daddy, I don’t ever want to be a boy again–I’m your daughter, Daddy, and proud of it.”

“I’m proud of you too, sweetheart.”

“Can I go and do my sewing now, Mummy, or do you need me to help in the kitchen?”

She gave me a very old fashioned look before saying I could go. I heard her tell my father, “Huh, some lecture that was, she wrapped you round her little finger and kept you there.”

“She did not, Rosemary, I didn’t want to be too hard on her, after all, the doctor is the final arbiter of her treatment–so who am I to argue with her?”

“That’s a cop out, Stuart, and you know it. That little minx has manipulated both of you.”

“You as well then–it was you who got the pills for her–and why didn’t you bring them to one of our shops, we’d have done them at cost for you?”

“Now you tell me...” I heard my mother’s voice, I went up to my room and sent a text to Philip.

‘Pswaded da doc 2 gimme mones. I’m a real grl now. Kx.’

'Cn u pswade her 2 gv u a fanny 2? Pxxx.’ came back his reply half an hour later. Typical bloke, never satisfied. If I had one he’d probably want me to have two.

“Ouch,” I squealed and watched the tiny drop of blood form on my thumb. I’d dropped my thimble, not that it helps very much–it feels very clumsy and I tend to jab myself below it. I sucked my thumb and put down my embroidery. I’m doing a sampler–one of those things with ABC you see hanging on people’s walls. My nan did one when she was a girl, Mummy didn’t, but she can sew and cross stitch. Me? I can jab my thumb–cor it jolly well hurts.

The sampler is a kit complete with a printed pattern and all the silks you need to make it. Nan says that you can get spares, besides she has loads of sewing stuff. Mummy said we’d go and see her again in the school holidays–that’ll be fun, maybe Gramps will be available next time–no stupid people wanting to get married.

I spent my last day of freedom with Gemma, she invited me over for lunch–which meant I got out of helping to cook ours. Karen was doing theirs, or should I say ours? Her mum was decorating the spare bedroom so delegated the job to Karen, and Gemma was told she was cleaning up afterwards. That doesn’t happen in our house. ‘Cos I’m the only girl, I get to help cook it and clear up afterwards–mind you it gives me more chance to poison Brian–maybe I should add some of my girly pills to his dinner–hee-hee.

“Your makeup looks really good now,” Karen observed as she bustled about in the kitchen.

“Thanks, anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you can make Yorkshire puddings?”

“Yorkshire puds? Yep, I can make ‘em–you’ll need the oven a bit hotter though.”

“I was joking–but you can make them?”

“Well yes, of course I can, it’s like one of the first things my mother showed me to do.”

“Well, Nigella, come in to my kitchen.”

I made up the batter mixture and greased a suitable tin, then added a dollop to each of the cavities in the tin. Then we whacked them into the hot oven for about twenty minutes or so.

When we pulled out the tray a while later Karen was most impressed. So was I, I’d only ever made them with my mother standing over me telling me what to do. I’m obviously a natural genius, and so modest with it. I almost laughed at my own thoughts–then they would know I was completely bonkers.

Gemma had invited me over to brief me on their school, I was going to meet her at the gate, Mummy had suggested she take me–but I’d be there too early, like most vampires–I mean school teachers–she leaves before the sun gets up and turns her to dust. So I was going to cycle to school.

“You can’t like, take a bike to school,” said Gemma

“Why?” I asked, because it seemed a perfectly sensible thing to me.

“Because–it’ll like mess your hair up, for one thing.”

“I’ll like, tie it back in a ponytail.”

“I thought you didn’t like ponytails?”

“I don’t but, I do it to play badminton.”

“How about I plait it for you?”

“Mummy’s done that once or twice.” I sat down and Gemma, fiddled about with my hair, plaiting it into two pigtails, which she secured with thin elastic ties.

“You look really good with those.”

I glanced in the mirror–at least I’d look different from my first visit to that school.

“Well, say something,” she urged as I continued to look at myself, twisting and turning to get a better view.

“Yeah–it’s okay,” I offered still distracted by my appearance.

“Gee thanks, Gemma, nice of you to do my hair,” she sarcastically added.

“I’m sorry, thanks Gem–it looks different.”

“Well of course it does–gee whiz, girl, you are so, like, perceptive.”

Karen walked in to announce lunch was ready–“Oh my God, it’s Heidi.”

I felt awful–I started to pull off the ties from the end of the pigtails, but Gemma smacked my hand–“Oi, leave those for now.”

I followed her into the dining room, her dad was there, “Oh hello, Kylie,” he smiled at me, “I think all our locks are working at the moment.”

I smiled back.

Mrs Smith came dashing in from the kitchen having just washed her hands–she still had the towel with her. “Who’s this–oh, it’s Kylie–gosh, you look different, very–um–yes.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“Yes, it’s fine–it’s just different.”

Karen brought in the dinner and we sat and ate with very light conversation going.

“Oh, Yorkshires–I didn’t think you could make those,” Mrs Smith said to Karen.

“I didn’t, Kylie did.”

“Well done, Kylie. Hmm, they’re good, too.”

So was the rest of the dinner–I ate far too much, and sat about wanting to sleep until Gemma made me accompany her for a walk.

“Why do we have to walk,” I yawned at her.

“So no one overhears us.”

I looked blankly at her.

“Look, Kylie girl, I think you should stay here tonight and then we can all go from here tomorrow morning–sort of safety in numbers again.”

“People won’t remember me from last time, will they?” I mentioned thinking about my previous visit to the school.

“Nah–not with pigtails. Why don’t you ask your mum to drop your uniform over.”

“I dunno–I think she’d like me at home tonight–why don’t I get her to drop me over tomorrow on her way to work?”

“Yeah, okay, if it’s early enough.”

“Oh don’t worry it will be, she leaves at sparrow fart.”

“Okay, but leave the pigtails–okay?”

“I’ll see–I’d better go back now–oh oh.” I spotted two boys walking towards us–George Carstairs and Patrick Swain, they were in the year above us.

“Keep walking,” said Gemma from the side of her mouth.

“Hi girls, how’s things?” asked George, with hardly the most original pick up line.

“Fine until you came along,” spat back Gemma.

“Oh that’s nice, bloody lezzies.”

“They must be if they can’t see your charms, Georgie boy,” said Swain.

“Need a magnifying glass to see yours, boys, see it hasn’t grown despite the number of times you’ve pulled it.” Gemma and I breezed past them, although my tummy was flipping.

I kept quiet, she was so much better at the put down than I was, although I suppose I need to learn a few more one liners for such situations.

“Hey, what about your friend, the vixen in plaits–doesn’t she have a say in this?” George was a trier, we had to give him that.

“Say something,” Gemma hissed at me.

“Like what?” I felt completely perplexed.

“Anything–tell him to piss off.”

I turned and looked at them–“Nah, you’re not my type–we did cavemen last week.” Gemma sniggered.

“Cavemen? Huh–you look like something out of an Enid Blyton story,” suggested George.

“Oh yeah, it’s Noddy and Bigears,” Gemma retorted, “so they oughta like, know,” I nearly squealed with laughter I was so nervous.

I passed them a bit later riding home, but I was going at a fair lick and they didn’t notice me.

Mummy agreed to take me to Gemma’s the next morning, and she laid out my uniform for me the night before–it was all hanging on my wardrobe door–teasing me all night.

I had some peculiar dreams–in one I’d forgotten to wear any knickers and a gust of wind blew my skirt up and showed everything–so they all knew I was a boy.

I went back to sleep and–I found I’d gone to my old school by mistake. I was horrified and tried to get out but the doors were locked and two teachers grabbed me and dragged me into the hall, where I was made to sit in front of the whole school while the headmaster lectured all the boys about the dangers of homosexuality.

I tried to stand up to protest that I was transgendered, but he shouted me down–“It’s all the same–they’re all bloody queers, only difference is you’re prancing about in a skirt pretending to be a girl.”

Mummy came into me because apparently I was shouting in my sleep, that I was a girl. She calmed me down and I went off to sleep again. However, it only felt like five minutes later she was dragging me from my bed and telling me to get showered and dressed.

My hair was still in plaits and although I wasn’t at all sure about it, I checked it in the mirror and it was clean enough–I’d wash it tomorrow. I dressed in my uniform and put on some makeup and some smellies, then packed my backpack with a notebook and my new pencil case, some water, hankies and my makeup bag and purse. I nearly forgot my mobile phone until Mummy mentioned it. I didn’t want any breakfast but she made me eat some cereal, a piece of toast and some fruit. I also had to take some cereal bars with me in case I was hungry.

Being July, it was warm enough to only need a cardigan–probably even then I wouldn’t really need it, but just in case I felt cold. I was getting used to skirts–although my school one is as short as anything I ever wear, and it has pleats, so I have to be careful how I sit or bend.

Last night, I helped Mummy sew name tapes in all my school clothes–fortunately, the old ones were still usable K.Mosse, so at least we didn’t have to spend anything there. Why are they always done in red stitching? The labels, I mean.

Mummy dropped me off at the Smith’s house and Gemma and Karen were nearly ready–which was a record. “You’ll have to come again, Kylie–they’re never usually ready this early,” joked Mrs Smith, who was going to drive us to school.

Karen commented favourably on my makeup and Gemma smiled at me because I’d kept the plaits. I turned down the offer of another drink–I didn’t want to have to use the loos any more than I absolutely had to.

We’d had a letter from the school, telling me to attend the secretary’s office at eight forty five. She would then do the paperwork and escort me to my first class. I walked into the school with Gemma and she pointed me to the office.

Mrs Martin was the school secretary and it was she who’d phoned a week or so ago to invite me in. She was really nice and helped me through the red tape that seems to be everywhere these days. She also gave me a timetable and a school plan; finally asking if I had any questions–I didn’t; so she led me down the corridor towards my fate.

This was it, I was enrolled in a girl’s school, my records with the local education authority had been changed–I was officially a girl, as far as they were concerned, and with the girly ‘mones swishing round my system I felt almost overcome with terror–so as we passed a loo, I dashed in and vomited–only just making the cubicle in time.

“ You alright?” Mrs Martin asked helping me up.

I nodded, “Nerves,” I managed to say before up came the toast to join the corn flakes. It was crazy, I wasn’t this sick when I’d impersonated a pupil here, but do I now have more to lose? Then I’d have been a criminal, now I’d be a weirdo. Damn, here comes that banana–I heaved once more.

I was pale and trembling when I was eventually taken to my class and introduced. The teacher, our English one, was called Mrs Evans, and she put her hand on my shoulder.

“Class, this is Kylie Mosse, I want you to make her welcome.” I smiled weakly, still feeling sick, even though I knew there was nothing left in my tummy–I think I’d thrown up last week’s dinner as well. I was sent to an empty seat next to Gemma, who smiled at me and asked if I was okay.

“No, I’ve been sick–maybe those pills.”

“Pills? What pills?” she whispered back.

“Birth pills.”

“What are you taking those for–you, like, can’t get pregnant?”

“Hormones,” I whispered back, trying to understand why I was staring at a book of poetry.

At the end of the lesson, I drank some water and ate a cereal bar–that made me feel easier. We had double maths next–the teacher, a Mr Cartwright asked who the new girl was? I raised my hand and he told me what he was teaching–was I okay with it?

Fortunately I’d done logarithms before, so it was.

The fact that he gave me a very good look as he walked up to me, tended to indicate he knew of my past and it was probably his first experience of a weirdo. I ignored it and got on with the lesson. When the bell went and we were leaving to go to break, he called me back.

“Kylie, welcome to my classes–I’m aware you have some issues–if you’re having any problems, please come and see me or any other member of staff. Okay?” He winked at me and I thanked him then went off to join Gemma who was waiting for me in the corridor.

I got through a French lesson and a general science–that was better, they were doing the solar system, which I’d read about a while back, so I kept up pretty well and even managed to answer a question about Mars.

I went back with Gemma and had lunch with her and her mum: Karen stayed behind in school because she was in the choir and they had a practice after lunch. Going back in the afternoon was less daunting and my sickness had passed by then.

We had history and geography, then home skills–they did needlework. The girls were making a skirt for themselves, and Gemma had warned me. So I took my sampler and Miss Jeffries was quite happy for me to play with that while she showed them how to attach the lining to their waistbands. It looked complicated and I politely watched then did my cross-stitch whilst Gemma struggled with her skirt.

At one point she was about to chuck it on the floor, so I helped her and between us we got it pinned up and she could tack it, before she moved to the sewing machine. Miss Jeffries came over to me and said, “Pity you didn’t come earlier, poor Gemma has struggled–she doesn’t like sewing, but I suspect you might.”

“It’s alright,” I shrugged.

“Kylie, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Well next term, we’re doing a dress, with some embroidery, so it might just be up your street.”

I shrugged again, “I’ll do my best, Miss.”

“Good girl,” she said and smiled.

Thanks to Gabi for more editing and suggestions, any mistakes still here are mine.

Totally Insane 33 - Class-ifications

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Estrogen / Hormones

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 33–Class-ifications.
by Angharad

“So how was my little girl’s first day at school?” asked my mother when she came home. I hadn’t been home long, because Hanky-pankies is further away than my old school.

Thankfully, Gemma was in several of my sets, so I had at least one friend. I related this to my mother who gave me a hug.

“I’m sure you’ll make loads of friends once you’ve been there a while.”

“Well I didn’t in the boy’s school did I?”

“We know why, now, don’t we?”

“What d’you mean, Mummy?”

“Because you’re a girl.”

“I’d have thought a girl in a boy’s school would have loads of friends.”

“Kylie, don’t be so silly, we didn’t know you were a girl then, did we? Even you didn’t really know–we just knew you were a bit different.”

“Only a teensy weensy little bit, Mummy–duh!” They all thought I was a prize pansy and some would have liked to plant me in the ground too.

“Don’t be cheeky–now, what lessons did you have?” I told her as I made us both a cuppa. This didn’t seem right, she was sitting at the table taking her shoes off and I was making the tea. Shouldn’t it be the other way round–I mean, I’m the one who had the traumatic day?

“There’s a good girl,” she said putting her arm round my waist as I offered her mug of char, “looking after your old mum.”

“How come you’re not making me one? I mean, I’m the one who’s had the harder day.”

“Oh don’t be unkind to me, sweetie, we’re getting ready for an Ofsted inspection, it’s absolute hell there at the moment.”

“But at least you weren’t dreading that they could discover you were a boy at any moment.”

“Neither should you be–you’re a girl, and that’s that–you took your pill this morning?”

“Course–I’m not likely to forget it am I?”

“No ill effects?”

“You mean like making me want to have mad passionate sex with Philip?”

Tea exploded everywhere–that had to be the best one yet. Once she’d stopped coughing, and wiped her eyes, and I’d cleared up the mess of tea, she glared at me and I played innocent.

“You know jolly well what I meant, young lady, I meant any morning sickness or feeling ill generally?”

“Nah, I feel great, better than great, I feel like a girl.” I was sure I could feel the her-mones zipping around my system, yep, my boobs were at least two fat cells bigger than yesterday.

“Kylie, stop trying to wind me up, the fact that I got half a cup of tea up my nose should qualify as having got one over on me, so stop it–we’re not in competition, you know.”

“I know, Mummy, I’m sorry about the tea.”

“Okay, luvvie, why don’t you change out those clothes and start making the dinner while I go and shower.”

“Can I go over and see Auntie Em and Sarah, first?”

“You mean, may I go and see Auntie Emma?”

“Yeah, like whatever.”

“Kylie, it costs nothing to speak properly and it often impresses people.”

Yeah, snobs like you, Mamma. I didn’t say anything just sat patiently.

“Go on then, don’t be long–have you got any homework?”

“A bit: gotta do some geography, something about volcanoes–they like have them in Iceland.”

“Yes, I know, they call it the land of fire and ice”

“I thought volcanoes only happened in hot countries, like Japan and Hawaii.”

“What about Italy and America.”

“They have volcanoes too?”

“Yes, look up Mount St Helen’s on the internet, that’s in North America.”

“Wow, okay.”

“There’s also a huge one under Yellowstone National Park, which could go at any time.”

“Gosh, what’s Yogi Bear gonna do, Mummy?”

She glowered at me, “One of these days young lady, you’ll get so sharp you’ll cut yourself. Go and see Emma and Sarah before I change my mind.”

With an ultimatum like that, I skipped out the door and across the road to Auntie Em’s.

“Oh Kylie you do look smart, and the plaits, too.” Before I knew it she’d taken a photo of me, I’ll do you a couple of copies, I thought your Nan might like one.”

“Shouldn’t I be holding a board with a number on it?”

She looked at me in bewilderment, then laughed as she realised what I’d said. “Kylie, you are so funny.” Sarah heard us laughing and began to giggle.

We chatted for a few minutes and I told her I’d have to go back to provide the child labour on which the empire was founded.

Auntie Em laughed; “You should be a stand up-comic, Kylie, you’d have them all in stitches.”

“Talking of which, I survived my first needlework class.”

“Oh well done, but you’re quite a good seamstress aren’t you?”

“I can sew on the odd button and I did repair Brian’s jeans, I do a bit of embroidery, but I haven’t actually made anything yet, although I did help Gemma with her skirt–she was trying to do the lining.”

“You’re so helpful, how did we ever think you were a boy?”

“Dunno–but I did too–at the time.”

“You really are such a brave young woman, aren’t you?”

“It’s nothing for an everyday super-heroine.” I blushed as I spoke.

“Go on, off with you, I’ll drop the photos over later.”

“If you email me them, I could send one on to Nan myself.”

“If you promise me you will.”

“Yeah, course I do–I mean it’s not like it’s one of me as a dorky boy, is it? The last one she had of me then, I looked like a girl in boy’s clothes.”

“I didn’t actually think of you as such, we just knew you as the quiet kid who played with locks. I’m glad you’ve blossomed so much since you realised who you were.”

I blushed again, was I that ineffectual a boy? It sure looked that way, or so everyone kept telling me. Or were they just trying to make me feel better, just to boost my spirits? Would Auntie Em do that? I mean try to make me feel good–or would she tell me the truth? I hoped the latter.

“If you want to do some dressmaking, let me know, I’ve got some material for a dress we could make together, and I’ve a pattern which would look quite nice on you.”

“Hey, that would be really good, p’raps in the school hols, Auntie Em?”

“Yes, okay, unless you get a better offer.”

I hugged her and gave Sarah a little tickle and a kiss, then went back home to change out of my uniform. It wasn’t too uncomfortable, mind you, it was reasonably warm–in winter with a gale blowing up my knickers; it would be very different.

I changed into a skirt and top and slipped on my Crocs, then scuffed down the stairs and looked in the fridge to see what we were having for dinner. There were four chicken breasts: I got them out and washed them, then popped them in a meat tray thing and after scattering various things like Chicken seasoning and salt and pepper, put them in the preheated oven, which Mummy must have switched on.

I was doing the potatoes when Brian came in–“Hi, slave, get me a coke, will ya?”

“I’m busy, get your own.” I continued with task of washing the new potatoes and he grabbed my bra strap and let it go. I squealed but by the time I’d turned around, he was gone and Mummy was talking loudly to him somewhere upstairs. I wish I could get him to wear one so I could tweak his–the cretin.

I put the potatoes on and started on the baby carrots, I washed them and topped and tailed them then put them in an ovenproof dish with some butter–Auntie Em had shown me that, and popped it in the oven too.

Finally, I cut the florets off the stalk of broccoli and washed them, then left them to drain in the steamer. They’d go on top of the potatoes a bit later. While everything was cooking, I sat down and started my homework. I read the textbook, the school had loaned me–blow, volcanoes do occur all over the place and now I remembered they wiped out Pompeii–well one of them did, Mount Vesuvius.

We have a bit of that somewhere–I think Daddy brought it back when he went to Sicily years ago–but I think it was a while after the eruption which destroyed Pompeii. I’m sure Daddy said the piece of pumice was still hot even though it had been eighteen months since the previous eruption. Wow it musta been very hot then.

Where’s Sicily? God knows, better get the Atlas out. We have a set of Encyclopaedia Britannica plus their atlas–I don’t usually use it because it’s so big. Brian has a Sunday Times one up in his room–last seen it was under his bed along with stinky socks, ten year old fluff and old sweet wrappers. I suspect there’s probably a brain eating mould in there which grows on his dirty underpants–ewwwch, I’ll make myself sick if I carry on like this.

Oh, it’s next to Italy–or part of Italy–of course, it’s where the Mafia come from. So with an active volcano and the Mafia, it must be very dangerous place to be–don’t think I want to go there–I saw this bit in a film Brian was watching, where they put a horse’s head in somebody’s bed–ugh. He likes horrible things like that, I don’t. Hang about, it’s Etna on Sicily, so where’s Vesuvius?

Gosh, Italy has three volcanoes: Etna on Sicily; Vesuvius which popped Pompeii is near Naples, and Stromboli is on a small island near Sicily. Sounds like an ice cream or a musical instrument. Which ice cream would you like Kylie? I’ll have a Stromboli with chocolate sauce–or maybe–he played Amazing Grace on the Stromboli. I chuckled at my own silliness which made Mummy ask what I was up to? I told her about the ice cream joke–she just rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Oh, you’ve put the dinner on–good girl, pity your brother isn’t as useful.”

“He has one use,” I opined.

“He has?” she sounded surprised.

“Yeah, he’s like so smelly, he keeps the flies up his end of the house.”

“That’s enough of that, Kylie–I thought you were going to tell me he was protective of you, or something constructive.”

“The pig snapped my bra strap–is that constructive enough?” I asked querulously.

“I’m afraid that’s all part of being a girl, Kylie. If he was younger he’d be pulling your pigtails too.”

“He’d better not,” I snapped.

“Better not what?” echoed the familiar croak of my toad-like brother.

“Snap my bra strap again.”

“I don’t know why you wear one, seen more tit on a baby’s bottle.”

“Brian–that is vulgar and I don’t want to hear you using that sort of language in this house.”

I was almost apoplectic with indignation so couldn’t say anything.

“Well it’s true, she’s flatter than an anorexic pancake.”

At this point I collapsed in tears and let go the Atlas. Gravity and serendipity saw it land on Brian’s foot. Boy did he squeal and he swore at me. I suspect he’d have hit me too if Mummy hadn’t been there.

She was too busy laughing to take his injury seriously, but when Daddy came home, he took him to the local hospital to get it X-rayed. Seems I broke his toe–hee-hee–which only goes to prove that learning beats brute force every time.

They don’t do anything for a broken toe except give him pain killers, so he was limping around making idle threats the rest of the evening. The only one which worried me was when he threatened to let some of his ex-girlfriends know I was going to their school.

“It was an accident.” I pleaded, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Like hell, you little pervert–still I suppose your girly pills stop you having muscle, so we can hardly settle this like men, can we?”

“Certainly not–I’m a girl, if you hadn’t noticed,” I huffed.

“Yeah, so Gonnersall thinks, but he might be the only one.”

I started to sniff, and he decided he wouldn’t push his luck. He knew that Daddy would retaliate on my behalf if he went too far. He limped into his bedroom and shut his door loudly, a moment later there was a loud bellow of pain. I rushed in just in case he’d really hurt himself–he’d walked into the leg of his bed bumping his painful toe. Satisfied he was alright I walked away with a large smirk on my face.

I finished my homework and fell asleep very quickly. I did dream that Brian called his ex-girlfriends and they grabbed me and pulled off my top and bra–but instead of being flat-chested like your average boy, I had a pair of boobs. No one was more surprised than I was but they just laughed at me and walked away–then the head mistress walked up as I was standing there naked but for my skirt. She said something very sarcastic and strode away and I was left crying as I redressed. I woke up needing a wee and discovered it was only eleven o’clock and my parents were still downstairs.

The next morning I felt tired as Mummy dragged me out of bed at an unearthly hour. “C’mon, girl, get yourself dressed, I’ve put a fresh blouse out for you, better take your coat with you, it looks like rain.”

I yawned and struggled out of bed, and then a wave of nausea swept over me and I only just made it to the bathroom, where I emerged a few minutes later watery eyed and with a mouth like a dustbin. I hate being sick. I must be going down with something.

I called down to Mummy.

“C’mon, girl, hurry up–why aren’t you washed and dressed?”

“I’ve been sick. I don’t think I’d better go today, can you tell them I’m sick?”

“No, get your pretty little bum in gear, get yourself washed and dressed and get down here double quick.”

“But I’m ill, I’ve been sick.”

“Tough, you’re going to school, now hurry up.”

I whinged and whined but did as she told me. Then down at the table, she put food in front of me. “I can’t eat that,” I grumbled.

“Yes you can–now hurry up, or I’m going to be late.”

I forced down about half of what she shoved in front of me. She made me take a banana with me together with the cereal bars, which I still had from yesterday–I had three or four now.

“You feel better now, don’t you?”

I did, and had to admit it.

“Have you taken your pill?”

“Oh no,” I rushed back upstairs and popped it from the blister pack and swallowed it quickly.

“Aren’t you wearing any makeup today?”

“I’ll do it at Gemma’s.”

“You realise why you were sick don’t you?”

“Wind?” I speculated but had no real idea.

“Your body thinks you’re pregnant.”

I laughed–she’d finally flipped, probably over the school inspection.

“It’s true–those pills are the same sort of hormones you’d have floating around your body if you were pregnant.”

“What–the pills made me sick?”

“Yes–I did try to warn you, but oh no, you felt great, even better than great–you felt like a girl, a pregnant one–ha ha, serve you right, come on, get your books and let’s go.”

The ten minute journey to Gemma’s house was passed in silence as I digested what she’d said. I’d had morning sickness–oh well, how girly is that? I felt almost proud of it until my tummy started feeling queasy again. I didn’t heave this time, but it was close.

Gemma was still getting ready so Karen helped me with my makeup and hair. “Karen, do you know anything about morning sickness?”

“Why–you’re not preggers are you–that would be some trick if you were.”

“Sort of,” I said quietly.

“You what?” she shrieked.

“Keep your voice down–I had morning sickness this morning, that’s why I didn’t do my own makeup.”

“You mean you were sick–probably wind–you might look like a girl, but c’mon, pull the other one.”

“It was morning sickness–it’s the tablets I’m taking.”

“You’re taking some tablets that make you pregnant?” Her eyes were wide and her tone disbelieving.

“Mummy says the pills I’m taking make my body think it’s pregnant, I have morning sickness.”

“Oh boy, you are something else aren’t you? They won’t give you periods as well, will they?” she giggled and walked away as I blushed.

As the morning wore on, I felt better and managed to get to my classes on time as well as cope with most of the work. I enjoyed my English lit class–they were doing Jane Eyre and I’d already read it, so I knew the story quite well. I even answered a question and got some dirty looks.

We went back to Gemma’s for lunch, Karen was at choir practice again, so it was just the two of us. “It’s awfully good of you to give me lunch like this, Mrs Smith, perhaps I should bring sandwiches?”

“Do you have time to make them, then Kylie?” she threw back at me.

“Um–not really,” I blushed furiously.

“Well then, I have to do something for Gem, so it’s no great ordeal to make an extra meal.”

“I do appreciate it.”

“I know, Kylie, like we appreciate it when you fix things like broken locks.”

“If you have any of those, just let me know.”

“Oh don’t you worry, Kylie, I certainly will.”

It rained on the way back so Mrs Smith drove us back to school, at least I hadn’t carried my coat about for nothing. It felt strange wearing the mackintosh, I felt like a convent girl or a small child, but apparently here, you had to wear one until year ten, then you were able to wear a different coat. Gee whiz, did I make a big mistake–all these rules and regulations, girls seem to have it far tougher than boys and I’d have thought girls were better behaved anyway–maybe not, I suppose I’ll find out sooner or later.

Thanks to Gabi for X-press editing, I sometimes agree with her: Any mistakes still here blame Bonzi - he did the typing.

Totally Insane 34 - Protestations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 34–Protestations.
by Angharad

Happy Birthday Trish, have a lovely day, sweetheart.

I began to get into some sort of routine. I’d be sick or feel I was going to be, get dressed, do my makeup–such as it was, a bit of eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. I wanted to do my nails, but apparently they won’t let you use anything but clear nail polish. So that’s all I did.

School was pretty much the same as it had been with the boys, except I felt less threatened by the girls–until the Friday of the first week. We were told it was sports day on Tuesday and we each had to be down for at least two events, preferably one field and one track.

I wondered if I could get an exemption. I went to speak to Mrs Martin the school secretary about it because she knew of my situation–I think.

“Why can’t you enter the sports day?” she asked at my protestations.

“I have a slight problem, if you remember.”

“Is it a medical condition, like diabetes or sickle cell anaemia?”

I didn’t know mobile phones could get anaemia, unless that means a lack of a signal–I mean, like what’s anaemia any way?

“I see a doctor for it, I thought you knew about my little problem.”

“It doesn’t say anything about a medical condition here,” she said looking at my notes on the computer.

“Are you sure?” I asked seeking confirmation.

“No, see for yourself.”

I stepped round behind her and looked at the screen, it didn’t say anything about me being a b–it different. It had me down as female and gave my address, my educational level–hey that was pretty good, but nothing about my plumbing.

“I guess I’ll have to do something then.”

“I’ll speak with the headmistress on Monday morning, but usually it gives any medical conditions, like asthma, here. Are you taking any medication?”

I decided that I’d pass on that one, if she knew I was on the pill, she’d think I was a floozie, and despite all Brian’s insinuations, I’m not. He however, remains a penis capitis.

I walked home wondering what I should do, I suppose I could get Mummy to write me a letter to exempt me on medical grounds, though I’m hardly Caster Semanya and going to blitz everyone in the 800 metres. Mind you if Brian was chasing me, I’d probably run pretty quickly.

I got in and decided to make myself a cuppa before I did anything else–no, I’d go and change. I chucked my blouse in the washing machine and ran upstairs in my bra and skirt. I pulled on a tee shirt and some jeans then went down and made some tea. I had homework to do, but I had a weekend to do it in and it wasn’t especially arduous. I looked in the fridge to see what was for dinner and began to do the vegetables to save Mummy some time.
Brian came in and grunted at me; I sighed.

“What’s the prob, sis?”

I nearly fell over, and he hadn’t tried to borrow any money yet. “I’ve got to take part in the sports day–I’ve like gotta do at least one track and one field event.”

“Well you should do alright, you have a natural advantage.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you used to be a boy, so you should have bigger muscles.”

“They’re all bigger than me.” I pouted.

“Go for the shot and either a long distance race or a sprint–yeah, go for the sprint.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’ll be able to win it.”

“I don’t want to win it, I don’t want to take part.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like sport except badminton, and perhaps riding my bike, but it’s hardly Tour de France is it?”

“Wossisname Cavendish isn’t very big and he’s the fastest thing on two wheels, well on a bike.”

“Whoopee doo, so how’s that gonna like help me?”

“I’ll show you how to put the shot.”

“Put it where?”

“That’s what they call it.”

“Call what?”

“The shot, it’s like a cannonball and you try and throw it as far as you can.”

“Why?”

“To show you’re stronger than someone else,” he looked at me in disbelief.

“But I don’t want to show I’m stronger than someone else, do I? I just wanna sit and like do my girly sewing not run about getting all sweaty and stuff.”

“Can’t ‘elp you there,” he grabbed a cola from the fridge and turned to go upstairs–

“Wossfor tea?” he asked from the doorway.

“Pork chops, why?”

“Can you make that sauce stuff you did last time?”

“The apple sauce?”

“Yeah, it was good.”

I looked at the empty doorway, I must be dreaming except there was a Tarzan cry from upstairs, followed by another. The chief monkey was obviously at home and defending his territory. Him Cheetah, me Jane.

I put the chops on the baking tray and popped them in the oven. I set the timer for three-quarters of an hour and sat at the table and got my books out. Mummy came in just as I was finishing my algebra.

“Pop the kettle on, sweetie,” she said, then ran up to shower. I made her a mug of tea and took it up to the bedroom, she was just pulling on her clothes. “Oh thanks, Kylie–I have a mountain of marking to do, I lost my free time this afternoon when Bernie Jenkins went off sick–mind you she looked awful–she’s pregnant again and she had pre-eclampsia last time.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh it happens later in pregnancy, they get swelling and high blood pressure and so on, it can get really serious and threaten the baby and even the mother, so we sent her home to rest.”

“Oh, poor Ms Jenkins,” I offered.

“Yes, she had a rough time before. Aren’t you glad you won’t ever suffer that?”

“Maybe, I’d rather be a real girl than a pretend one.”

“Oh, darling, I didn’t mean it like that.” She hugged me and I managed to keep the tears at bay. “You are a real girl.”

“Am I? Real girls can have babies.”

“Not all of them, the female reproductive system is quite complex and loads of things can go wrong.”

“Yeah, not as wrong as mine did–it grew a willie.”

“I’m sorry, Kylie, but you just have to cope with it–let’s face it, you’ve done really well so far–everyone sees you as a girl and accepts you as such; you’re taking the pills earlier than you should–so you’ll have a female body shape, what more do you want?”

I pulled away from her, “How about a fanny, periods and babies of my own.” With that I walked out of her room and shut the door loudly, I also slammed the door of my bedroom.

I don’t know how long I sat on the edge of my bed, but I wondered how much longer I could keep up this pretence. I couldn’t go back to being a boy; that was a fate worse than being a girl. I didn’t think I could cope with only being part girl–so I would have to end it.

There was a knock on my door, and Brian entered, “Hey, sis, wossamatter?” I didn’t even look at him. “That apple stuff was really good–look, if you’re not gonna eat your dinner, can I have it?” I nodded my response although in the dark he wouldn’t see my tears. “Thanks, sis.” Having achieved what he wanted, he left happy as a pig in sh– If that’s what being a boy was all about, count me out.

I wondered how long it would take me to die if I stopped eating, probably too long and I think I read somewhere that it hurts a lot and you go blind an’ things. I wanted something quicker.

In the distance the phone rang, it was nine o’clock, probably for my gut-bucket brother. I drifted in my mind, if I died this weekend, I wouldn’t have to do sports day and I wondered if Daddy would be able to get a refund on some of my uniform.

“Kylie,” called my mother, “Emma is on the phone for you?”

I ignored it.

A few moments later, she burst into my bedroom. “KYLIE,” she shouted and I jumped off the bed. “I called you, get yourself over to Emma’s house, she needs you to babysit while she goes to the hospital, Kit has had an accident. So stop moping about and get over there.”

It took a moment for the news to penetrate, “Uncle Kit’s had an accident?”

“Yes, now get over there so Emma can go to the hospital.”

“Why does she want me?”

“Because you’re her baby-sitter, now stop this nonsense and get your pretty little bum over there.”

I wiped my face and grabbed my bag and ran over to our neighbour’s house.

“Thanks, Kylie, the silly fool fell off a ladder at work–are you all right?”

“Yeah,” I lied, “the pills sometimes make me sick.”

“Morning sickness? It’s quarter past nine in the evening.”

“Yeah, I forgot to take it this morning, so had it later.”

“Oh, okay. You going to be alright with Sarah?”

“Yes I’ll be fine–you go and see Uncle Kit.

“Are you sure? Rose said you had the miseries.”

“I’m alright, now go and see Uncle Kit and give him a kiss for me.”

“Are you trying to seduce my husband, Kylie Mosse?” There was a twinkle in her eye.

“Meee? I don’t even know what it means, isn’t it what Sherlock Holmes did?”

She looked strangely at me for a moment, “I thought that was, deduce. Seduce is what you’d like to do with Philip.”

“Oh, I thought that was sex?” I was speaking without much thought.

“Yes it is, but with a bit more finesse than you seem to appreciate.” She walked over to me, “You can tell me what’s wrong when I get back–if you want to, that is?”

I nodded and sniffed back a tear. Auntie Em rushed off and I heard the car drive down the road. It was very quiet, and I went to see where Sarah was. I stopped, why did I call her that? Usually I call her baby Sarah?

I climbed up the stairs and checked her, she was fast asleep in her cot. I’d missed doing my motherhood by proxy thing this week, I’d also missed her lovely mother who’d taught me so much about being a girl and all sorts of useful things about the house.

Did I really want to die? I looked at the innocence, sleeping possibly dreaming about her future, whereas I didn’t seem to have one. I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing my favourite baby, so maybe I wouldn’t die just yet. I wondered if it was possible for a boy to grow boobs which could lactate, watching Auntie Em feed her baby was pure magic and I was so envious of that. I wanted to try and do that when I was bit older, because that could make me feel like a woman, a proper one.

I sat on the floor by the side of the cot and watched my proxy baby, she was so beautiful whereas I felt so ugly by comparison. The light in the room was dim and I could just make out her breathing, light and rhythmical. I sat with my head leaning on my knees and sobbed silently before drifting off to sleep.

The first I knew of Auntie Em’s return was her calling me from downstairs, I was still very muzzy and it took a moment to register where I was and why. I stood up and staggered to the doorway.

“Oh, there you are, I was beginning to feel a bit worried.”

I yawned, “Sorry, Auntie Em, I must have nodded off, last I remember was watching Sarah.”

“Your eyes are all red, what’s happened?”

“Nothin’ really–I just feel very down.”

“C’mon, let’s have a cuppa and a chat.” She checked the baby quickly and then we went down to the kitchen where she put the kettle on. “Biccie?” she asked me and I nodded, I didn’t really want one but I hadn’t had any dinner and my tummy felt peckish.

“How’s Uncle Kit?”

“I think he’ll be okay, he’s hurt his leg and they’re not sure if he’s broken it or not, so they’re going to keep him in until he sees the consultant tomorrow.”

“Poor Uncle Kit.”

“Silly old fool, what on earth was he doing up a ladder–he’s supposed to be an auditor.”

“Um–counting the rungs?”

She looked at me, then snorted, “Yes, probably,” then she laughed. “Now, missy, what’s the matter with you?”

“Nothin’ really.”

“So why the long face?”

I shrugged and felt a tear form, moments later she was cuddling me as I wept. “Now then, what’s the problem–this isn’t like you?”

“I feel a failure.”

“A failure, Kylie, you’re twelve years old how can you be a failure?”

“I failed at being a boy, now I’m a failure as a girl.” I sobbed on her shoulder.

“Who said you were a failure?”

“Me–I did. We have to do something on sports day–I don’t want to.”

“Get Rose to write you a note. Have you told her about it?”

“No, she was telling me they’d had to send some lady home from school because she’s pregnant and she had three lamps or something.”

“Three lamps. You don’t mean, pre-eclampsia, do you?”

“Could be; I just felt inadequate–I can’t get pregnant and never will. I’m a failure.”

“So you measure being a successful female as having babies do you?”

I nodded.

“And all those women who chose not to have any, perhaps or were too busy or couldn’t have any–are they failures as well? Is Florence Nightingale a failure as a woman–because she didn’t have any children?”

“Um–I s’pose not, she did lots of work with nursing, didn’t she?”

“She totally revolutionised it and the way field hospitals worked in the army. She was a proto-feminist, showing that women could be important in areas in which they’d been previously excluded and she had enormous influence politically as well, especially during her heyday.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Kylie, how can you possibly know what you’re going to achieve in life–you might do great things upon a very public stage or you might settle down with one person and be very happy.”

“But I wouldn’t be able to have his babies, would I?”

“Why are you so fixated on one aspect of life, is it simply because you can’t do or have something?”

“I don’t understand, Auntie Emma.”

“Let’s take it as read that you can’t biologically conceive as a mother.”

“Yeah,” I hung my head.

“So because you can’t do this one thing, you’re going to let it become the bane of your life, make the rest of it a whole and total failure, or waste of time? That’s like going on a wonderful holiday and having the most perfect time, and suddenly on the last day it rained and you got wet and it spoiled your whole view of the holiday. Is that right?”

“No, Auntie Emma, that wouldn’t spoil my holiday.”

“I won’t pretend that any woman who was told she couldn’t have babies of her own wouldn’t be upset, but don’t let it spoil the rest of your life–life is more than doing one thing. Not having your own doesn’t stop you from looking after other people’s; becoming an obstetrician or a midwife, or a teacher. All these people are important for the welfare of babies and children. Do you see what I mean?”

“I think so, Auntie Emma.”

“You’re a lovely girl, don’t let a mistake of nature stop you from reaching your full potential and enjoying your life, there’s much more to it than simply having babies you know. Now get off home before your mother phones to see if you’ve moved in here.” She hugged me and I went back home feeling still confused but she seemed to know what she was talking about.

“You’ve been a long time,” said Daddy as I went in.

“I was talking to Auntie Em.”

“Feel better now?” he asked.

“I think so.”

He put his arm round me and pulled me close to him–“That was a lovely meal you made us, how come you didn’t have any?”

“Um, it was the only way I could avoid the poison,” I joked.

“And make sure Brian got a double dose–eh?”

“Where’s Mummy?”

“She was absolutely shattered, so I sent her on up to bed. I said I’d wait up for you.”

“Oh, thanks, Daddy, I’ll be off then...” I kissed him and went to walk to the stairs.

“I thought we could have a little father daughter time.”

Oh poo, not now, Daddy–“Um it’s a bit late, Daddy.”

“I’m well aware of the time, young lady, now sit down and tell me what’s upset you and why you gave your mother a load of lip?”

“I–I–um didn’t mean to, she was on about this woman at work who’s having a baby and it just got to me, ‘cos I can’t have any, and they’re gonna make me like take part in sports day at school, an’ I’m a failure an’...”I burst into tears.

“Hang on, let’s look at these one at a time shall we?”

Daddy reassured me, saying much of the same sort of things Auntie Em said, he also hugged me and told me he thought I was actually making a much better job of being a girl than he thought I would. I wasn’t sure if that wasn’t one of those back handed compliments, Mummy goes on about.

I went to bed feeling confused about the future–I think I still wanted to be a girl, no, I needed to be a girl–oh poo, I am a girl, it’s only my plumbing that says different. I still have to do the sports day, he told me that running away from things didn’t make them go away, so I had to confront my fears. ’Cept he’s not the one hiding a willie in his knickers–um–yeah okay, he is but he’s not hiding it and he doesn’t wear knick–oh you know what I mean.

The best bit of our chat, apart from him finding my joke about poisoning Brian quite funny, was that he told me several times that both he and Mummy loved me very much and that they would always be there for me. I went to bed with a warm feeling inside me and some runny eyes.

Thanks to Gabi for corrections, any complaints see >^^<

Totally Insane 35 - Combinations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 35–Combinations.
by Angharad

For Darling Trish - Zalig Kerstfeest en een Gelukkig Nieuw Jaar

I spent the weekend doing my homework, worrying and babysitting. On Saturday morning, Auntie Em called over for me to look after baby Sarah while she went to get Uncle Kit from hospital.

In fact I took the call, Daddy was dashing off to one of his shops–he was using very colourful language–it was supposed to be his weekend off, and the shop had been burgled or something–someone might have crashed a nuclear submarine into it, although burglary seems more likely.

Mummy was lying in bed groaning–she had a cold or something and loads of marking to do. I did offer to help but she reminded me that my forgery of her signature wasn’t up to standard.

Brian was in bed and would stay there until lunchtime, so li’l ol’ me had to answer the phone. “Hello, Addams Family residence, Morticia speaking.”

“Hello, Kylie, you sound better this morning.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.”

“Oh, so you won’t want to look after Sarah for me?”

“Who said I won’t?” Any excuse to babysit Sarah, she is such a doll.

“Okay, you will which is good because I need you to do so this morning.”

“What time?”

“ASAP.”

“Eh?”

“A-S-A-P–as soon as possible.”

I glanced at the clock, it was half past eight, “Um–I need to get dressed.”

“Half an hour then?”

“Yeah, okay.” I put the phone down and dashed upstairs threw off my nightie and jumped into the shower, then jumped out again until the water came up to temperature–oh I also gave a very girly squeal–I know...

I washed everything then towel dried it, ran into my bedroom pulled on my knickers and bra–I know I haven’t got boobs yet, but they might suddenly pop out, say by lunch time, so I need something to catch them in. I shoved in my padding–hopefully not for much longer, pulled on some jeans–I have to wear skirts to school–so this is like rebelling–go figure.

My favourite top followed, a pink and white one, then I bent down to do my sandals and standing up afterwards I felt sick–oh not again. I ran into the bathroom and–I think you get the idea. Thankfully, I hadn’t taken my ’mones yet, I usually swallow it with breakfast–but today I didn’t have time for breakfast. I grabbed a banana and some milk and swallowed my tab.

I dried my hair and tied it back, it’s getting quite long, then picked up my bag and was about to leave when Mummy called me.

“Kylie, would you make me some tea and toast, I feel dreadful.”

I sighed, “Auntie Em has just phoned for me to babysit Sarah while she goes to the hospital again.”

“Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“What did you have?”

“Breakfast.”

“I know that silly, but what did you have?”

“I can’t remember–oh, a banana and some milk.”

“Make yourself some toast, too.”

“I don’t want toast.”

“Well I don’t want you going out without some breakfast inside you.”

“I’ve had all I want.”

“I don’t care, it’s what I want that counts–now stop arguing and go and do it.”

“But it makes me feel sick.”

“Too bad, go and do it–aren’t you wearing any earrings or makeup today?”

“I’ll do them at Auntie Em’s.”

I made her some tea and toast, and ran over the road still eating mine, it was nearly ten past nine.

“Ah there you are, I’ve fed her–she’s got some baby food there, which is warmed up to the correct temperature. I’d like you to give her it, then bath and change her if you could. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I think I must have been looking gobsmacked because she asked, “Is there anything wrong?”

“Um–no–yes, I mean; I’ve never bathed her on my own.”

“I thought you had.”

“I don’t think so, you’ve always been here.”

“But you did alright by yourself–look, I have to dash, if you don’t want to do it, then leave it, just change her nappy.” She gave me a hug and slipped out the door and the car started a moment later and she shot off down the road.

Baby Sarah was in her high chair, she was squealing and waving her arms about. I washed my hands and picked up the small dish of grey slime and began spooning it into her open mouth. I knew it was all going far too easily, then–on about the tenth spoonful–she gave this funny shriek and knocked the spoon out of my hand and the slimy stuff went all down the front of my top. She thought it was hilarious, I sponged it off with a cloth and a towel. I chucked the rest of the baby food in the bin–it looked and smelt disgusting, no wonder she didn’t want to eat it once she’d realised I was feeding her liquidised newspaper–well that’s what it looked like.

I filled her bath and checked the temperature against my elbow–it was okay. Next I lifted her out of her high chair and laid her on the changing mat and stripped her off. Her nappy was horrible full of–yeeeuckkky poo. I cleaned it up with baby wipes and then donning my plastic apron, I picked her up again and supporting her head, laid her in the bath.

She giggled and gurgled and squeaked and shrieked and kicked and flapped her arms like she was having fun. By the time she was clean, there was probably more water on the floor than in the bath.

She wasn’t too keen on having her hair washed, and I had to use a cup to rinse the shampoo off, but once that was done she was splashing and cooing again. I picked her out and wrapped her in swaddling clothes and laid her in a manger–oops, wrong baby.

I did wrap her in a towel and left her on the changing mat whilst I disposed of the dirty nappy into the nappy bucket–it’s one of those with some blade thingies in the bottom and if you twist the bucket round in circles it agitates the water with the nappy cleaning stuff and helps get the muck out before you put them in the machine to wash. It’s supposed to be better for the planet than disposable nappies which take about a zillion years to rot in rubbish tips. I also hear stories of stupid people who try to flush them down toilets and bung up the drains–I mean, how stupid can you get? I’m not surprised people like that block the drains probably ’cos the baby’s still in the nappy–duh.

I emptied the bath and got back to Sarah just in time to stop her rolling off the changing mat and on to the floor. Phew, that was close.

Then I dried her and powdered her and creamed her bum, like Auntie Em had shown me, after which I put another nappy on her and pinned it in place. Over that went the waterproof pants then a vest, some white tights–that was a challenge–a little dress and cardi and I was just combing her hair when I heard a car come into the drive.

Auntie Em rushed in, “Oh brilliant, Kylie, you managed to dress her–hello sweetie-pie,” she spoke to the baby and Sarah recognised her instantly and began smiling and cooing. “Look, Kit has broken his leg, he’s just gone down to theatre, they’re going to pin it for him–what was he doing up a ladder, for goodness sake–I tell you, the man’s crazy. I have to take him in some pyjamas and toiletries his shaver and so on.”

“Would you like a cuppa, Auntie Em?”

She stopped as if I’d slapped her with a wet fish. “D’ya know, Kylie, I’d love a cuppa.”

I set to making one. Auntie Em picked up the baby and took her upstairs with her. She came down carrying Sarah in one hand with an overnight bag in the other. “I hope I have everything.”

“How long will he be in hospital?”

“I don’t know, probably a couple more days, why?”

“I wondered if you’d be alright sleeping on your own?”

“You are sooo sweet, Kylie Mosse, d’ya know that? I’ll be fine, Kit is away quite frequently, so I’m quite used to it, but thanks for the offer–you’re really turning into a very nice young woman.”

“Look who I had as a teacher.”

“Rose–yes she’s very good isn’t she?”

“No–you’ve taught me as much as Mummy has.”

“I haven’t, I haven’t done very much at all.”

“Because of you, Brian fancies my dumplings.” That wasn’t quite what I meant to say but that was how it came out and she looked at me then burst into laughter, I laughed because she was roaring with laughter and then the baby giggled too. However, the laughter turned to tears and Auntie Em confessed she was frightened that Uncle Kit had to go to the operating theatre, so I hugged her and told her everything would be okay. She dried her eyes, told me how silly she was, then went and washed her face and redid her makeup and hair.

“Aren’t you wearing any, today?”

“Oops, I haven’t had time to do it–not and being a full time mother as well,” I stood with my hands on my hips and she sniggered.

“You’d better watch out kiddo, if you start to look like a slob, he’s going to go elsewhere for his comforts.”

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant but I assumed it meant my pretend husband would find another girl. “Oh, so what do I do to prevent his indelibility?”

She sniggered again, “I think you mean infidelity.”

“Sorry, I always say the wrong thing,” I frowned.

“No you don’t, you’ve cheered me up no end and done a lovely job on looking after Sarah, hasn’t she kiddo?” Sarah giggled and clapped her hands. “See, she’s giving you a round of applause.” I laughed after that. “Go and do your makeup and if you want to invite a friend over, providing you behave, that’s okay. There’s a bottle of milk in the fridge, and some more baby food if I’m not back by lunch. There’s some bread and cold meat so feel free to make yourself a sandwich and your friend.”

“I’ll be okay with just baby Sarah.”

“Up to you, but I don’t mind if you change your mind, I must go.” She swept out with the overnight bag, then came straight back in; I forgot his pyjamas–honestly, I’m losing the plot here.” This time she drove off.

I amused the baby and about an hour later she began to yawn and whimper, so I nursed her for a bit then put her down in her cot. She went off to sleep a few minutes later. I was in the kitchen cleaning up when my phone rang. It took me a minute to find my bag and extricate my mobile. I’d just missed Gemma.

I called her back and she asked if I wanted to go to town. Much as I’d have loved to I told her what I was doing.

“You’re what?”

“I’m babysitting.”

“You are soooo girly, Kylie Mosse,” she laughed, “everyone else our age has finished playing with dolls–except you.”

“I’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Yeah and how. I’d like, love to see this dolly of yours.”

“Why don’t you like, come over then, you can always go shopping later.”

“This is true, okay where are you?”

I told her which house was Auntie Em’s and which bus to catch and about half an hour later she was gently tapping on the door–I’d asked her not to ring the bell in case she woke Sarah.

“Oh she is like sooo sweet,” Gemma gushed when she saw her, “She’s adorable, look at her cute little nose–an’ her fingers, are like sooo small–they’ve got nails, too.”

I gave her a very strange look, “Haven’t you ever seen a baby before?”

“Duh–like, ’course I have, but I didn’t have time to like, study it.”

“If she wakes up, you can help me feed and change her if you like?”

“Wow–can I? I mean l like won’t her owner–I mean, mother–be upset?”

“I don’t think so, an’ she did say I could have a friend round. What about your shopping trip?”

“I can do that tomorrow, this is like, a real live Barbie doll, you are like, such a lucky bitch, Kylie Mosse.”

For a moment I thought that I wasn’t, at least Gemma could grow her own babies, I won’t be able to–then I thought, it’s possible she might not be able to either, not all girls can and for that moment, I felt sorry for both of us, then Gemma asked about something to eat.

Auntie Em had said we could have a sandwich, so I made us one each and cup of tea, there was still enough left for Auntie Em if she wanted one–a sandwich, that is. We were just finishing our lunch when the phone rang.

I rushed to grab it in case the ringing woke the baby. “Hello, Johnson residence ,” I said quietly.

“Hello, Kylie, it’s me, Emma, just wondered how things were?”

“Fine thanks, Auntie Em, Sarah is still sleeping and my friend Gemma’s come round, we had a sandwich each, I hope that’s okay?”

“I told you it was, Kit’s still in theatre–they were late taking him down, so I’m going to do some shopping while I wait. Is there anything you want?”

“Um, some boobs and some ovaries an’ the bits that go with them.”

“And where would I find all those?” she asked humouring me.

“Um–the Body Shop?”

“Okay, I’ll ask for you. I’ll try and let you know what time I’ll be back.”

“Auntie Em, could we take Sarah out in the pram?”

“If you take great care and make sure she’s warm enough, there’s quite a cool breeze blowing.”

“Oh, I will, Auntie Em.”

“There’s a spare front door key in the drawer of the phone table, take it with you to make sure you don’t lock yourselves out.”

“We will. Thank you, Auntie Em.”

“I have to go, Kylie, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Auntie Em.”

Despite my efforts, Sarah did wake up so Gemma and I got her up and fed her, then changed her nappy. Her clothes were clean enough and with a coat and little hat, she was soon warm enough in the pram. I tucked her in and after getting the key from its hiding place, we set off for a walk. I let Gemma push the pram, she seemed very enthusiastic to do so and I have done it before.

We stopped at the little corner shop and Mr Papagopolis gave us an effusive welcome as always. “Ah, my little locksmithing girl, it is still working after you mended it.”

“She’s very clever, isn’t she?” agreed Gemma and I was left blushing. Once I’d recovered my composure I bought us each a chocolate bar and Mr P gave us a banana each.

“What did you fix for him?” asked Gemma, as we strolled.

“He broke a key in a lock, was more fiddly than difficult.”

“Still, he obviously couldn’t do it himself.”

“I s’pose so.”

“Heard from Philip?”

“Not today,” I shrugged, sometimes it went a couple of days in between calls or meeting up with him.

“Boys–huh?”

I shrugged.

“What you doin’ for the sports day?”

“Going sick, what’re you doin’?”

“Four hundred and long jump.”

“Four hundred?” I had no idea what that was.

“Four hundred metres, y’know once round the track.”

“Is it that far, crikey? I wonder if they do a slow bicycle race?”

“No, nor a three legged one or egg and spoon.”

“How about sack race, I won that once in infants–I was the only one who didn’t fall over more than once.”

“So, what ya gonna do, you have to do two things?”

“I’ll have a go at the long jump and p’rhaps the hundred metres.”

“Can you run fast then–I didn’t have you down as one?”

“If Brian is chasing me–yes, I can fly.”

“Better ask him to chase you then.”

We chatted on as we walked and after an hour we returned to the house, where Auntie Em was back and eating a sandwich. She took the baby who was fast asleep and laid her in her cot. She gave me a twenty pound note and box of chocolates.

“That’s far too much,” I protested, but she insisted. I asked after Uncle Kit and her news was, he was progressing well.

For the rest of the weekend, I babysat when asked and looked after Mummy, who didn’t have Dengue Fever after all, it was just a cold–awwww. She did her marking and had me running round like her personal maid while she did it. I ‘spose it was good training for Monday.

I did try asking her to write me note, saying I had a sprained earlobe or something similar, which would mean I couldn’t participate but was quite capable of lying back and enjoying myself while the others slaved on the track or field. She refused, telling me to check my kit was clean.

On Monday morning, she took me to school complete with sports kit. Usually they do this in the summer term but for some reason they couldn’t and as they were doing the school report, they needed to show who won the various events. I worked out we’d have to do it twice–once again in the summer–bah, humbug.

I changed and pulled on my tracksuit over the top of my shorts and vest. Not exactly Versace but it was warm–that cold breeze was still blowing. As we stood round trying to keep warm, the school had a problem–some nice person had squirted superglue into the locks on the sports apparatus cupboard. They needed all the discus and javelins and such like and they couldn’t get them. It was suspected that some of the sixth form girls might have tried to sabotage the sports day.

Of course, some blabbermouth mentioned I was ace at locks and the headmistress sent for me.

“Can you repair these locks enough for us to get the apparatus out?” I was asked.

I asked to see them. “Yes, I think so, but I’ll need my kit.”

“You have a kit for this?”

“Yes, Miss, it’s like my hobby playing with locks and I’ve collected some tools for doing it.”

I was despatched home to collect it with the geography teacher who was a danger on the road, she’s so short sighted she can barely see to the end of her bonnet and she drives one of those Smart things. I was tempted to ask if I could walk back. Somehow the lorry didn’t hit us, mind you I don’t think she saw it even after it did an emergency stop shredding two tyres, nor the red light which her running through nearly caused the accident. Apparently she takes the sixth form on geography field trips and they always get lost. One year they ended up in North Wales instead of at the salt mine in Cheshire they were aiming for.

With my tools and some borrowed nail varnish remover I got the lock open, but of course it took me the rest of the day to clean it up and put it back together, so I didn’t have time to get all hot and sweaty like the rest of them.

“I’m sure you could have done that faster?” said the games mistress seeing through my cunning plan.

“And you could have called in a professional locksmith, Miss, and paid his fees of a couple of hundred pounds.”

She gave me a suspicious stare and walked away. I chuckled: they’d never find the two bottles of superglue I’d used––

Thanks to Gabi for improvements suggested–any faults remaining are mine, ’n’ Bonzi’s.

Totally Insane 36 - Ramifications

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transitioning

Character Age:

Preteen or Intermediate

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 36–Ramifications.
by Angharad

On the Tuesday morning the headmistress sent for me. “Come in, Kylie, do sit down,” she pointed to a chair in front of her desk.

I said, “Thank you,” and smoothed my skirt as I sat down.

“I hear you saved our sports day, yesterday.”

“It was nothing.”

“Oh I don’t know, fiddling with locks isn’t a skill we teach here, so we were lucky to have you.”

“I try to help.”

“I hear you were trying to opt out of the sports day?”

I blushed, “I was worried about the changing rooms.”

“I see, but you will be taking games and gym, won’t you?”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Tough, you are required by law to run round and get all hot and bothered for so many hours per week–it’s the law.”

“But I–um–have a medical condition...”

“As far as I’m aware, being transgender happens between the ears, so it shouldn’t prevent you from exercising.”

“So I have to do them?”

“I just said that, didn’t I?”

“I was just clarifying it, Miss.”

“Quite a coincidence wasn’t it?”

“What was, Miss?”

“Those locks being super-glued and you just being able to take them apart and repair them instead of doing sports.”

“I don’t understand, Miss.”

“So you subscribe to the theory that a sixth former did it?”

“I don’t know who did it, Miss,” I said blushing.

“I’m sure you don’t, but it remains quite a coincidence–off you go.” She gave me a funny look as if she didn’t believe me protesting my innocence. She’d be right, but without evidence, she’d be unable to prove anything. I went to my geography lesson and explained to Miss Erskine that I’d been sent for by the headmistress.

“Very well, Kelly, we’re doing volcanoes–did you do your homework?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Okay, you can tell us all about volcanoes then.”

I stood there transfixed, yeah I did the research for the homework and did a nice diagram of how a volcano erupts and the ring of fire with a map of the world showing where they occur.

“Um,” I started and she looked at me.

“Hurry up, Kelly, or we’ll run out of time.”

I opened my bag and withdrew my book and started to show the pictures I’d drawn and she said, “No one can see those–here,” she handed me a marker pen and pointed at the board.
I took the pen and shrugged, oh well, here goes... I spent half an hour drawing diagrams and showing how magma erupts and pressure from tectonic plates where there are fault lines under the continents or where they all join. I’d just finished when the bell went and I could relax.

Phew, I felt like a wet rag. If teaching is that much hard work, I’ll go and do something easy like politics. No wonder Mummy is always so tired, she does it all day long–and she’s a deputy head. Maybe I should try to help her a bit more–although compared to Brian, I already do ten times as much as him, which isn’t difficult.

He’s been in a funny mood for the last few days, he hasn’t tried to kill me or even just disable me–is he going soft? I mean it’s nice having him almost acting like a human but he isn’t one–he’s a Brian–Homo proctalgia. See education isn’t wasted, except on Brian.

I went back to Gemma’s for lunch and gave her mum the chocolates that Auntie Em had given me for looking after baby Sarah while she was dealing with Uncle Kit’s broken leg.

Mrs Smith was very pleased to receive the chocolates and I was quite pleased to eat the homemade soup she served, leek and potato. I asked her how she made it and she made light of it, “I just chop a couple of leeks and peel and chop a few potatoes and boil them up together with a bit of stock–it’s really quite so easy.”

I was nodding and taking on board everything she said. “At least you show some interest in cookery which is more than Gemma does.”

“I enjoy cooking and helping Mummy in the kitchen.” I said and Gemma glared at me, I knew I would pay for that later. Her mum made another pointed remark and Gemma kicked me under the table.

“I enjoy helping Mummy in the kitchen,” said Gemma when we got back to school.

“Well I do,” I felt really wounded by her remark and wasn’t that far away from tears.

“Ah, it’s volcano Kelly,” said Gina, who is in my set for geography.

“What?” gawped Gemma.

“Miss Erskine got her to show us what she knew about volcanoes, which was more than that short sighted old bat. And she thinks her name is Kelly.”

I blushed and Gemma chuckled, “Volcano Mosse, yeah I like it, lock, stock and smoking mountains.” The two or three other girls who overheard it thought it was funny. I didn’t particularly, but apart from blushing I simply stood and took it. At least they weren’t beating me up–yet. Had I jumped from the frying pan into the fire-in trying to escape this in a boy’s school had I discovered that girls can be just as vicious?

“I just did my homework and showed them.” I protested but no one took a blind bit of notice.

“You realise that she’ll be setting homework and you’ll get to teach it to the class the next day. She caught Karen with it years ago. Mind you Karen did get an A in geography GCSE.”

“So I might get one pass then.” I shrugged and Gemma laughed.

“You’re no retard, I mean they didn’t suspect you for the athlethic’s store lock did they?” Gemma made me blush again.

“Shush, I only repaired it, I didn’t do anything else.”

“Come off it, Kylie, we all know you did it.”

“I thought it was some of the sixthformers.”

Gemma rolled her eyes, “Good job they don’t have CCTV in the corridors, isn’t it?”

“That would be invasion of privacy and against our human rights,” I protested.

“We don’t have any, we’re teenagers, remember?”

We had double Chemistry after lunch. I thought I’d like it but it was boring and I was chatting with Danielle when the teacher caught us. “Ah Miss Mosse and Miss O’Donnell, perhaps one of you would like to explain the difference between Organic and Inorganic chemistry?”

Danni and I just looked at each other. She was blushing as red as I felt I was, and she shook her head. “Miss Mosse?”

“Um–inorganic is when they use pesticides, sir.” The rest of the class rolled about laughing but Mr Condrey the chemistry teacher was anything but amused.

He called on another girl and she said it was about compounds of carbon and the rest was inorganic. “Perhaps you’ll sit down and listen from now on, next time I catch you chattering I’ll put you in detention, got it?”

I nodded and tried not to talk for the rest of the class. It was sheer blooming murder. I also knew that within five minutes of school ending my answer on chemistry was going to all round the school.

When I got home, I resolved to help Mummy more than I had before. Brian was home first–he’s nearer but the most he’d do is eat all the biscuits and drink all the coke. He goes up to his room and plays on his computer or gets on the phone and dear Philip can’t call me then.

I checked the fridge, there was a note to me, could I start cooking the mince with some onion and then add the tomato puree and to boil some water for the pasta. Looks like we’re having spag bol, one of my favourites though I’d never cooked it before only opened a tin.

I washed the mince and dropped it in a saucepan then peeled and chopped and onion and added it to the minced beef. Common sense told me to add some water once I’d browned all the meat. I let it simmer for about twenty minutes and added the tin of tomato puree. I also added some garlic–well, Italians add to it to their cornflakes don’t they? Soon the kitchen was smelling decidedly interesting and my tummy rumbled.

I’d changed before I started the dinner because I realised that getting bolognaise sauce out of my school blouses would not be very easy. I’m sure that Brian wouldn’t have thought of that, not that it would apply anyway, he never cooks anything.

He came down as I was doing my chemistry homework. “What’s the difference between organic and inorganic chemistry?” I asked him.

“Organic is carbon compounds, why?”

“We were doing it in chemistry this afternoon.”

“Yeah, good stuff,” he lifted the lid of the saucepan, “Smells good, what is it?”

“Organic bolognaise.”

“You doin’ pasta as well?”

“Yes, that’s why it’s called spaghetti bolognaise.”

“Woss in this one?” he lifted the lid on the boiling water.

“The spaghetti goes in there, it’s not time yet.”

“Keep your ’air on, Delia,” he said before looking in the fridge. “Cor that cheese absolutely stinks–shouldn’t we chuck it?”

“That’s the Parmesan, if you do, Mummy’ll kill you it costs a fortune.”

“Geez, I don’t want any on my dinner, smells like your old knickers,” he grabbed a chocolate bar and went back up to his sty.

Mummy eventually came home, she still had a bit of a cold about her and she hugged me and thanked me for making the dinner, she’d got some fresh cream chocolate éclairs for afters–yummy.
Mummy went and changed and grumbled she’d got extra marking to do ’cos that pregnant teacher was still off with her pre whatevers. “Oh as soon as you finish your dinner can you pop over and babysit for Emma, she wants to pop and see Kit.”

“Is he still in hospital?” I asked, which I suppose was rhetorical because if he wasn’t she wouldn’t have asked me.

“Of course he is, you silly noggin’.”

“Bugger,” I said under my breath.

“That sort of language is not terribly becoming in a young lady.”

“She’s not one is she,” offered Brian.

Mummy froze him with a stare and he blushed, “I thought we’d dealt with that, young man.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said trying to dig his way out of the pit.

“What way did you mean then?”

“Um–I–oh never mind,” his feeble mind had just realised that if he’d tried to say something funny it was going to fall as flat as a pancake. I smirked, for once I’d got the better of him without saying or doing anything. He glared at me but said nothing.

“How’s your toe, Brian,” I asked holding my textbook of chemistry.

“Better than yours’ll be if that comes anywhere near me.”

“Brian stop threatening your sister, she’s only asking how you are. You should be glad someone does think of you–she’s about the only one,” she said very quietly to herself.

I collected my homework, I had French to do, and went across the road to Auntie Em’s. She let me in and thanked me. “I’ve fed and watered her, so hopefully she’ll sleep unless she knows you’re here.”

I have that effect on people being such an all-round nice guy. I did wonder why Philip hadn’t called me. I’d sent him a text a day or so ago and he’d not replied to it. I went and checked on the baby as soon as Auntie Em left, baby Sarah was fast asleep sucking her thumb. I went and got my homework and set it out on the dining table–I hate French–have enough trouble with English.

I was half way through doing a translation of the piece we had to read, when my mobile peeped indicating a text message. I checked it, hoping it was from Philip. It wasn’t, it was from Gemma telling me that two of the sixth form girls were as good as accused of gluing up the locks before sports day.

I called her as Daddy had just topped up my credit, “What’s this all about?” I asked her.

“Two sixth formers have been accused by the games mistress of gluing the locks to stop sports day.”

“We know they didn’t.”

“We know that but Karen seems to think that the games mistress, who isn’t too bright seems to think Hannah and Michelle did it.”

“Well the headmistress doesn’t.”

“Oh, did she accuse you during your little interview?”

“As good as–of course, I remained aloof and she has no proof.”

“Hey that rhymes, Kylie.”

“Yeah, so it does.”

“So are you going to fess up?”

“What for? So they can expel me?”

“But you can’t let Hannah and Michelle take the rap, can you?”

“I don’t think they will.”

“Promise me you won’t.”

“I’ll try to make sure they don’t.” I switched off my phone. I had gym tomorrow and Tarzan would be there–that’s what we call the games mistress, she’s twice the man I’d have ever been, and there are all sorts of rumours about her ogling the girls during games, but no proof.
I went back to my homework and by the time Auntie Em came back from the hospital, I was pretty well Je suis-ed out.

I helped her change baby Sarah, who was due another feed, and then I asked for her advice about the sports day thing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she said shaking her head.

“Well knew I could fix it.”

“You cunning little minx, I suppose no harm was actually done in the end.”

“No I cleaned it all out and reassembled the lock. It’s what happens if they actually accuse these two girls.”

“That’s different. But you said you thought the headmistress thought you had done it.”

“She sort of like, implied it but didn’t ask me directly.”

“What would you do if she did?”

“I don’t know. I mean it was intended as a wheeze to get me out of sports day.”

“I appreciate that–but in the clear light of day, it doesn’t seem so clever, does it?”

“If I tell Mummy, she’ll go beserk and make me fess up.”

“Better not tell then unless you have to.”

“I can’t believe I could get expelled or suspended and I’ve only just started there.”

“Worse, Kylie, what if someone starts asking why you didn’t want to take part in sports day?”

“Like who?”

“I don’t know, but if you were to be suspended might questions be asked as to why?”

“Now you’re frightening me, Auntie Em.”

“Look, Kylie, go home and try not to worry about it, it will probably all blow over in a day or two and as you said, no real harm was done.”

I spent a sleepless night and felt tired and irritable the next day. Mummy dropped me at Gemma’s and her mum took us to school, where I heard that Hannah and Michelle had been suspended. I was horrified and felt sick–and it had nothing to do with my pills.

At lunch time, I spoke with Gemma and resolved to go and see the headmistress. I caught her just before she went off to lunch.

“It was me, Miss.” I said feeling tears forming in my eyes.

“What was?”

“The locks–I did it so I wouldn’t have to do sports day.”

“I know, Kylie.”

I looked up at her, “I’m sorry.”

“So you should be, but it was a very clever ruse all the same and you fixed it as well, doubly clever.”

“Can you cancel the suspension of Hannah and Michelle?”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I owned up to doing the locks.”

“I haven’t suspended them for that, so the grape vine has got it wrong, hasn’t it?”

Talk about embarrassed, I could blush for England.

“Thank you for owning up to the locks and promise me you won’t do anything like it again. I appreciate that you came forward once you thought we’d accused someone else of it. That was pretty decent of you, but no more shenanigans, okay?”

“I won’t, Miss.”

“Good girl, now go and have your lunch.”

Totally Insane 37 - Liberations

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Girls' School / School Girl

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 37–Liberations.
by Angharad

I couldn’t believe that it had been a whole year since I’d started at Hanky Pankies or Emmeline Pankhurst School for girls. I was a school girl, end of. Well okay, I was a sort of school girl with a few extras and some of the same things–in particular, I noticed that my body shape was changing–had budding breasts the same as Gemma–that sounds as if we shared the same ones–we didn’t we each grew our own and my waist and hips were developing.

My hair was down to the middle of my back despite being trimmed about every five or six months and I stopped feeling like I was anything different to any other girl, except in one place and that felt as if it got any smaller it would disappear altogether. I wouldn’t have minded but I’d have been missing an innie which I’m told would reduce my options later on.

I was thirteen and a teenager. My ’rents had given me an iPad for my birthday when I came top in geography at the end of term exams. Our short sighted teacher, Miss Erskine, insisted on calling me Kelly and half the girls did so as well–this was nearly as bad as my previous institution–but at least they weren’t doubting my sex.

My experience with volcanoes was repeated time after time and I ended up researching and teaching the rest of the class. I also got top in Maths and I began to think I’d possibly go into engineering–design more than doing up nuts and bolts. Although even there I kept up my interest in locks and was asked to do a presentation when we had an Ofsted visit. For those who don’t know, this is the Department of education checking on the quality of the tuition and so forth.

My presentation was done under the guise of design technology and I managed to get a whole pile of slides about early locks from the Romans to modern day digital things. I really had to mug up on those and I doubt I’ll be trying to repair any of those except the press button ones they have on internal doors in shops and hospitals.

The bad news was that we’d had a spate of break-ins in the area in which we live and they all appeared to have the same method of entry–the locks were picked or opened by a key. We had a visit from the police and Daddy ended up speaking with the Chief Constable again.

Whereas before the police had been supportive of me except those two whose kids were involved in the attempt to assault me before Brian broke it up, this time they really frightened me. It appears my reputation for playing with locks and fixing or opening them was growing and I was actually a suspect–I mean, it’s hardly what thirteen year old girls do for fun is it–breaking and entering, I mean. But because I was once a boy, it seems I was a suspect. They even got a search warrant and went through my bedroom and my section of the garden shed–where I had a bench with a vice and some tools.

Daddy was furious–there was no evidence to suggest or link me to any of the crimes and the lock picking was crude to say the least–they left scratches all over the place, I didn’t. They asked me to demonstrate opening a lock at one of the burgled houses–Daddy came with me–it took me two minutes to open the lock and they discovered I hadn’t added any scratches to the several that were on the lock.

I was asked to do it wearing latex gloves but they couldn’t find any small enough and the prints they found at the scenes were indicative of someone with larger hands. Finally we got through to them that it wasn’t me, but we had a few days of worry because of it. Daddy said I wasn’t to do anymore for other people unless I really knew them, then one of his shops had a problem and he asked me to come along and give my thoughts on it.

The shop was the one that I’d visited with him once before, and once again I came away with a bag of cosmetics from Lorraine who was the shop supervisor. They’d had a problem with the lock and had called out the local locksmith–he’d opened it for them but it had got stuck again and the locksmith wanted hundreds of pounds to do it again or more than that to replace the lock.

We arrived in Daddy’s Audi and parked in the rear car park. Then he showed me the lock–it wasn’t the one on the front of the shop, but a rear one to the car park and waste bins–they had some of these locking plastic things that get collected by a large van.

I examined the lock and asked about the scratches on the outside–whoever had done this was very sloppy. Daddy took some photos before I started and then he left me to it while he sent them off to the police by email. The evidence was circumstantial to say the least, but it gave them a suspect and they put a watch on the man and it turned out it was him. He was a useless locksmith anyway, I was better and had no formal training–but that was about to change.

Anyway, back to the shop door lock–I removed it–well Daddy did, I couldn’t budge some of the screws and when I took it apart it showed a great deal of rust inside which was stopping the tumblers working. It was supposed to be brass–but brass with rust? Even I knew that much chemistry.

I soaked it in a light oil and cleaned it up–it took me nearly all afternoon then I refitted it and it worked perfectly–why the locksmith couldn’t have done that, I didn’t know. Daddy made me submit a bill to the shop and cost my labour. That took me nearly as long as the actual lock–I mean, how much do you charge? He showed me the bill from the previous chap and he was charging fifty pounds an hour. I thought that was ridiculous.

Daddy then took me to the locksmith shop, the one which had sent out the bloke to repair it–the one who was the burglar as we later found out–and he showed the owner a set of photographs he’d taken of the lock and how I’d repaired it. He was most impressed, especially for a girl to do it.

“How would you like to work for me occasionally?” he asked me after winking to my dad.

“I wouldn’t, you charge too much.”

He gave me a very queer look and then smiled. “I have a living to make and this place costs a small fortune in rent and rates, plus the cost of the staff.”

Obviously he had a point. He showed me some old locks, broken ones and asked me if I’d seen them before. Of the six he showed me I’d worked on three. He challenged me to fix the other ones. I wasn’t sure if I could and I needed to take them back to my workshop–my shed, or my part of the shed. He asked why I couldn’t do them in his shop. I looked at Daddy who nodded and I went and got my kit.

It turned out he and Daddy knew each other through the golf club, so were standing about chatting while I played with the locks. I was glad I’d worn jeans because I dropped a small spring and I had to scrabble about on the floor to find it. I took an hour to repair them all–one wasn’t too good–but someone had broken a key in it and it needed a whole new barrel. He handed me one and I fitted it.

He smirked and handed a twenty pound note to my dad–they had a bet on apparently–he didn’t think a thirteen year old girl could fix the old locks–I proved him wrong. He offered me a job which I declined, babysitting was bad enough especially with Richard and Davy–I had to take a bag of sweets with me for that one.

Driving home from the locksmith’s shop, Daddy gave me the money he’d won. “You deserve this, he was suitably impressed with you, and he’d still like to have you help him.”

“What when he can’t fix one, you mean?” I asked.

“No I think he meant when he was so busy.”

“I’m in school, Daddy, or have you forgotten?”

“Seeing as I’m likely to get caught for some new uniform soon, no I hadn’t forgotten. I think he was meaning on weekends–but really in the future–you’re too young at the moment.”

“I thought I could get a job with one of your shops?”

“I think you’d enjoy working on locks much more and it’d get you a better wage than we could pay.”

I looked at him quizzically.

“You’d be doing piece work, so I’d ask him to pay you per job not a wage.”

“But I might only get one job.”

“So, do you want to stand around advising old biddies about cutting keys?”

“That might be good fun,” the only keys I’d cut were by hand with files and it takes forever, he had a jig for doing that. Maybe I could save and buy one in time.

He shook his head and took me home–I did a bill with Mummy’s help on the computer, and amazingly the shop paid it. I got a hundred pounds for my efforts.

Mummy was teaching me new housework skills all the time and I helped her most nights to prepare the dinner. Mostly it was good fun and I got to see exactly what we were eating whereas Brian only turned up to eat. He still tried treating me like his personal slave but I wouldn’t play even though he seemed to have accepted me as his sister. Auntie Em is a really good cook and I continued to go there when I had a chance and she showed me all sorts of tricks that Mummy didn’t seem to know about cooking plus of course Sarah was there too. She’s still a lovely baby, well toddler now, and she always squeals with delight whenever I go there.

Philip hasn’t got another girlfriend so he must be satisfied with the old one, viz. me. I’m not sure about his mum, she’s still a bit funny at times–and I don’t mean she cracks jokes–well if she does, yours truly is usually the butt of them.

We, that is Philip and I, were fiddling about on the computer when it peeped to indicate a new email, we were trying to find something about the history of the town and not doing that well. In the end I went into my emails and saw it was one from Gemma.
‘Hi Kylie, have you heard of this band, Lez Zeppelin?
Love, Gem’

“What’s she sending me this for? Plus she can’t even spell it.”

“She’s sent a link and that’s spelt the same,” noticed Philip.

“But I mean who ever hasn’t heard of Led Zep has got to like be dead from the neck up–they’re like the biggest rock band ever.”

“I doubt my mum has ever heard of them,” said Philip.

“Mine has, she’s seen them live, all I’ve got is some DVDs and what’s available on the internet.”

“Click on the link, it sounds like one you haven’t heard of before.”

“Okay, I was going to anyway.” I protested as I clicked on the link. Well, I was blown away–it wasn’t Page, Plant and Bonham but a group of women and they were pretty damn good, at least with Whole Lotta Love everyone knows it, dum dum da dum dum is the base line with brilliant vocals by Plant and guitar riffs by Jimmy. This lot were good. I’ve seen plenty of stuff on YouTube by tribute bands and this had to be amongst the best–and they were women–wow! Never mind playing with locks, I wanna be a chick rock star.

I even became oblivious of Philip for a moment as I started planning what I needed to do. I’d joined the music group because I wanted to learn to play the guitar, unfortunately, Mrs Nelson was no Jimmy Page, she wasn’t even like Segovia unless he had a moustache as well, but she was gradually teaching me the chords,frets and fingerings for classic acoustic guitar. I’d asked Gran an’ Gramps for an electric guitar for Christmas and Gramps told me that if I could play a recognisable tune right through by then on the acoustic, he’d get me one. I’d do it, I knew I’d do it, then I’d need an amp and somewhere to practice.

“Kylie, hello? Anybody in?” Philip tapped me on the head.

“What?” I glanced at him.

“You have been sitting there for the past ten minutes in a daze.”

“Have I?”

“Yes, how about coming out for a walk?”

“Yeah, okay–can we listen to this lot one more time?” I clicked on the link and Lez Zeppelin started again.

“D’you think they were lesbians?” asked Philip as we strolled round the park.

“How would I know? It could just be a play on the name, you know, showing it was a girl band.”

“Yeah, but I find that kinda excitin’ don’t you?”

“Don’t I what?”

“Find the idea of lesbians exciting?”

“What?” I gasped.

“Don’t worry, it’s a boy thing.”

“What is?”

“Never mind.”

“Sometimes I wonder about you, Philip Gonnersal.”

“Wonder what?”

“Never mind.” I gave him back some of his own medicine.

“What have I done now?” He pulled me round to face him.

“Think about what you just said.”

“Oh that, sorreee.”

“I should think so. If I was that way inclined why would I be here with you?”

“I said I was sorry.”

“I mean, it was bad enough being called gay as a boy to have it thrown at me as a girl as well. It’s just too bad.”

“Look, Kylie, I didn’t mean anything, alright? I was–I had this picture–never mind.”

“But I do mind–I’m obviously not good enough for you, Philip.”

“How d’you work that out?”

“From your weird fantasies.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry, you’re my girlfriend–end of.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I was really winding him up and serve him right.

“I assumed you were happy with the arrangement.”

“You shouldn’t make assumptions, it’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“Can I assume you want an ice cream?”

“You could ask me if I’d like one.”

He rolled his eyes, “Kylie, girlfriend of mine, would you care to have an ice cream?”

“I’d love one, thank you, Philip, are you buying?”

He glowered at me, “You set me up, didn’t you?”

“Who me?” I squealed and he shook his head possibly to protect his ears. Wait till I’m a rock star, I’ll have one of the best squeals–no, screams–in the business.

When Daddy came home I showed him the link Gemma had sent me and he was suitably impressed then he glanced across at the guitar case standing in the corner of my bedroom then back at me. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

I blushed, “That would depend upon what you think I’m thinking,” I replied hedging my bets but pretty sure he’d added two and two and got four.

“You’re not going to try and form your own tribute band, are you?”

“Um–I might be.” I was blushing profusely and feeling like I was having a hot flush.

“Kylie, I have no arguments with you exploring any musical talents you might have, even to copying someone else’s work, though I’d prefer you developed your own. If you’re thinking about doing something like these women, then I suspect neither your mother nor I would be very happy about it.”

“But to be able to do Led Zep stuff would be brill, Daddy. I thought you liked their music?”

“I like their music very much, it’s the idea of having a rock chick for a daughter that worries me, and some of the stories that accompany them.”

“You mean sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll?”

Now it was his turn to blush, “In a word, yes.”

“It’s just the music, Daddy. I love the music.”

“It’s never just the music, even Jimmy Page had a problem with heroin.”

“But he kicked it, Daddy.”

“Yeah, well I don’t want you to start it let alone kick it–okay?”

“I won’t, Daddy, I promise.”

“Look, sweetheart, it’s easy to promise things when you’re young and genuinely believe them to be true. However, I’ve been around a bit longer than you and seen what happens to people especially when cultural and peer pressures cause them to change.”

“But I won’t, Daddy.”

“I hope not, you’re an adorable kid and I hope you become an equally loveable adult, pity you can’t give lessons to your brother.”

“But Mummy was a rock chick.”

“Yeah, she was but we kept it clean.”

“So will I.”

“I hope so, but the pressures if you were living in that world are phenomenal. Look play your music, form a group if you want but get yourself a proper qualification as well.”

“Like Brian May?”

“I think astrophysicist might be pushing things, but yeah, like him.”

“I was thinking a design engineer.”

“Excellent and do your music as a hobby.”

“Dunno, Daddy, I’ll have to think about it.”

“Okay, sweetheart, you think about it.”

“Would you pay for me to have lessons?” I asked as he was turning to leave.

“For the guitar? Okay but don’t tell Brian. Don’t you have them in school?”

I nodded.

“You know someone better?”

I smirked, “Yeah, Jimmy Page.”

He narrowed his eyes and left, I nearly fell over laughing, then I thought about what he’d said. Had he just scuppered my career before it got started? I was still mulling this over when the doorbell rang. I heard Daddy talking with someone then he called me to come, immediately. What had I done now?

I trotted downstairs and gasped, the Chief Constable was standing in our lounge. “Hello, young lady.”

“Mr Holiday,” I said and took his outstretched hand and squeezed it gently.

“Darling, the police have come to ask you a huge favour,” said my father and I gulped. Surely they weren’t going to ask me to play for a dance or something?

“Uh huh.” In these situations making inane noises serves just as much use as saying something intelligible.

“Kylie,” said the Chief Constable, “we need your special skills.”

Special skills? What special skills do I have the police don’t? “Uh huh.”

“We have a mother and baby trapped in basement flat and the whole thing has collapsed, there’s a locked door but none of my people or the fire service are small enough to get down to it, we think you might be able to. Would you give it a try, we need you to unlock the door as well.”

“You said the site was stabilised?”

“So my advisers say and the fire service agree.”

“So Kylie wouldn’t be in any danger?” asked Daddy.

“No, but we need to get some food and drink to the trapped woman and her baby.”

"Can you do that?"

“Yes, there’s like a sort of tunnel under a large slab of concrete, it’s about five metres long leading to the door.”

“What sort of door is it?” I asked.

“It’s a stable type you can open the top half without the bottom being opened.”

I knew what he meant. “Any idea about the locks?”

“No, probably a Yale type but it could be a mortise.”

“I’ll get my kit.”

“Better put your jeans on, girl,” called Daddy as I ran upstairs. Ten minutes later I was changed and my hair was in a ponytail, and I was holding my small backpack with my tools inside it.

The police driver didn’t hang about and we had sirens blaring as we hammered through the traffic to a house about four miles away which was in the process of falling down.

The senior fire officer was very reluctant for me to go into the hole but on Holiday’s insistence he shone his torch down it. Even for a stick insect like me, it was going to be a tight squeeze. They managed to find a hard hat to fit me and I was wrapped in one of those fluorescent waistcoat things which proclaimed ‘POLICE’.

“Are you sure about this, Kylie?”

“There’s a baby in there, Daddy.”

“Why can’t you just cut through the floor?” he asked the fire officer.

“It could cause the rest of it to collapse, if we could get the door open at least we gain some time by sending some food and drink into them and we can establish voice contact.”

“What about the phone?”

“It’s down and she can’t get a signal on her mobile.”

While they chatted I nodded to one of the firemen and began to edge myself down the tunnel, with a webbing strap attached to my ankle to pull me out if necessary. With a light on the front of my helmet and pushing my bag before me, I slithered along the tunnel. It was like swimming on dry land. Good job I’m not claustrophobic, but when a large spider scuttled across in front of me I stopped for a few seconds. If there were any rats I was out of there. We’d agreed I yell and they pull me out.

It was hot work and progress was slow, partly because I kept banging my head–helmet–on the top of the tunnel, it was very tight, but after what seemed like hours I was at the door, or the top part of it.

Working while lying on your tummy is not easy and it took me several minutes to pick the Yale lock, which was actually a Chubb one. I clicked it open and pushed. It swung open about a foot. “Hello?” I yelled into the darkness.

“Help,” was the reply.

I half slithered into the doorway and could see the woman’s predicament, she was trapped by part of a wall lying on her leg and the baby was in its cot alongside her, but she couldn’t move to get to it.

Going against my instructions I slithered into the room, such as it was. I couldn’t stand up and had to crawl over to them. I handed her a bottle of water they’d given me.

“Take my baby and get him out of here.”

The baby was lying very still and I had a horrible feeling about it. But it was possible that I might be able to get him out so at least the experts could do their thing.

I used my screwdriver to undo the side of the cot and lifted the baby out, he was covered in dust but still breathing. He was quite small so I assumed he was very young.

“You look a bit young to be a copper,” she observed.

“I’m not, I’m a schoolgirl, but the only one small enough to get down here.”

“Pretty brave schoolgirl,” she said sipping the water.

“Pretty dumb if you ask me,” I said and smiled.

“Can you get him out?”

“I’m going to give it my best shot.”

I took the plastic liner out of the broken pedal bin and after wrapping the baby in a cot blanket, shoved him inside to protect him. He still wasn’t moving or saying anything. Then I crawled back to the door and climbed out feet first with the baby in his bucket ahead of me. I left the mother with a torch and a mobile phone and the bottle of water, tied the strap back round my ankle and yelled for them to pull me out slowly as I had the baby.

If the original journey was tough, the return was awful I sort of pulled myself along with my heels helped by gentle tugs on the strap. I was lying on my back holding the baby with one hand, the bucket being between my legs and my bag I was dragging behind my head.

The rescue took nearly an hour–I’m not surprised. The baby was whisked off in an ambulance with lots of noise of sirens and the firemen and police applauded me when I finally emerged from the hole.

I showed them where the mother was relative to the door and how she was trapped by the masonry. The fire officer then agreed they could start to break through the level above to get her out. My job apparently was done. Mr Holiday and the fire chief thanked me. And I got to keep the waistcoat, the press took some photographs because I couldn’t stop them.

Daddy said something to Holiday and he had me whisked away in a police car. Mummy was home when we got back and she was furious with Daddy for putting me at risk, “She’s just a girl, what were you thinking of?”

“I knew she’d be all right and she might have saved two people’s lives, Rose.”

The phone rang and Daddy answered it. “The baby is going to be okay and they’ve just got the mother out. She could lose a leg, and the press are clamouring after our heroine,” he reported to Mummy and me.

“So she could be exposed as a transsexual?”

“The police have refused to identify her, so perhaps we’ll be able to keep it under wraps.”

“Stuart, you live in cloud cuckoo land, some days.”

Me? I left them arguing, they seemed to enjoy it while I went for a long soak in the bath.

Totally Insane 38 - Communications

Author:

Angharad

Audience Rating:

Younger Audience (g/y)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Transgender

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Themes:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Totally Insane 38–Communications.
by Angharad

For Desiree, Rae and Jes — I hope they enjoy it.
By the time I’d soaked off all the dirt and dust from my heroics and dressed myself in clean clothes, the media circus had already begun. Mr Holiday had sent one of his press aides to see us and Mummy called me downstairs just as I was finishing doing my hair and checking my makeup–yeah, I tend to wear some most of the time, though getting my eyelashes dyed has saved me a bit of time and effort. It was Mummy’s idea and they did it at our salon, so I generously let her pay for it.

When I got downstairs, the police liaison officer was sitting talking to Mummy. “Ah, Kylie, you’ve arrived at last.” She was in schoolmistress mode so I didn’t bother to argue. “This is PC Armstrong.”

“Hello, Kylie, we met before d’you remember?”

“Yes, Ms Armstrong, you were with Mr Holiday when those horrid boys threatened to cut me an’ Philip an’ Brian rescued us; you were the one who got the real film of the thing from the camera shop.”

“You remembered,” she smiled at me and I felt happy to trust her. “And I remembered you were a very brave young lady to do what you did back then, and what I hear, you’re still a brave young lady. I’m not sure I’d have crawled down a hole to rescue a baby and his mother.”

“I didn’t think of anything but rescuing the baby, an’ they had a lock to pick.”

“Oh yes, you’re the locksmith girl who helped us catch Terry Catchpole.”

“Who’s he?” I’d never heard of him before.

“The man who was working for a locksmith and doing some breaking and entering on the side.”

“He wasn’t much of a locksmith, he scratched everything.”

“Which was how you identified him, wasn’t it?”

“I guess, but Daddy sent you the pictures, so he’s as much responsible as me.”

“Well I think you’re a very brave, clever young lady and I’m proud to know you, Kylie.”

Wow, no one ever said that before, maybe I should do more locks an’ things, it seems to get me more compliments than playin’ netball–mind you I’m not very good at it, better at badminton, especially with Philip. But I still blushed at her remarks and got tongue tied. I find that sometimes with strangers, my brain and mouth don’t seem to synchronise properly and it comes out wrong–nerves I suppose.

“How about you make PC Armstrong a nice cuppa–there’s the cake we made on Sunday out there as well.”

“You bake cakes as well, gosh you are multi-talented,” gushed Joanne Armstrong, “I was never any good at baking things, too impatient.”

“I just do what Mummy says and so far we’ve been able to eat them all.” I blushed and escaped to the kitchen. After boiling the kettle and warming the pot, I made the tea and while it infused–see I’m even learning the proper terms–I got some plates and knives and then sliced some of the cake and placed it on each of the plates. I took the tray into the lounge and placed it on the coffee table. Mummy insisted I pour the teas and place one of the nest of tables near her chair and PC Armstrong’s chair and then pass them the cake and the tea. I know she’s only teaching me what to do, but it seems some days I do all the work.

“Thank you, Kylie, this looks really good–you’ll make someone a wonderful wife one day,” she flashed me a smile of super white teeth and guess what–I blushed again.

“She’s had Philip over and cooked the dinner, haven’t you sweetheart?” Mummy loves to embarrass me. I’m not all goody-goody, if you remember I glued up the equipment store at the last sports day. The headmistress let me off when I owned up because I thought she was blaming two older girls. Well I couldn’t let somebody else take the rap could I? Unless it was Brian of course, ‘cos he’d let me take it. It’s his fault I ended up in skirts in the first place trying to recover his stupid love letter. As it turned out, when Mummy found me then kept me as a girl over the weekend, something must have happened in my head because I actually enjoyed myself, more than I did as a boy, once I got over the strangeness of it, it felt right somehow. Daddy summed it up perfectly, but then he’s like that–a clever dick–I take after him, when he said that somehow I’d always been struggling as a boy and something wasn’t quite right. When I became a girl, I seemed to be complete, or I will be one day. Strange innit, they cut something off so I can be complete?

“Yes, Mummy,” I sighed and ate my cake–it was jolly good if I say so myself–but then I would, wouldn’t I, and it would be too.

“And Emma across the road, thinks the world of her, doesn’t she, darling?”

“Auntie Em is very good to me, she lets me babysit Sarah.”

“You like babysitting, Kylie?”

“I love looking after Sarah, she is so good.”

“The first day, when I discovered Kyle dressed as Kylie, we were still discussing things when Emma came knocking at the door saying she’d shut her keys and the baby in the house while she was unloading her car. She knew Kyle had a reputation for opening locks and she accepted his alter ego so calmly, even gave her a bag of clothes.”

I tuned out as Mummy gave a description of my transformation from insignificant anorak to delicious babe–well Philip thinks so, and I’m not complaining, but it does get boring after a while.

“So when I first met Kylie, she’d only been a girl for a matter of weeks?”

“Yes,” answered my mother, “she took to it like a proverbial duck to water. When we thought about it, we couldn’t understand why we took so long to work it out, it was so obvious really...” she droned on and on and I did what I normally did when she got boring, I either thought of my last time with Sarah or what we’d do next time, easy really.

“What’s going to happen?” I asked of PC Armstrong when my mother actually stopped talking long enough for me to say something.

“With regard to...?”

“This rescue thing.”

“I’m hoping nothing, but I’ll stay here for a bit longer just in case we have any press people snooping about.”

“What if my previous life comes up?”

“Why should it?”

“’Cos people know about me.”

“I understand your concern, Kylie, but I think the force will keep pretty quiet about who you are, Mr Holiday has issued a very strong indication that he’d discipline anyone who says anything.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Just then, Mummy switched on the telly. “We’re still investigating why the house should collapse, but the young woman and her baby were rescued, although the mother had to have an operation on her leg due to masonry falling on her.”

“Is it true that you involved a schoolgirl to actually rescue the baby?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” declared the Fire Chief.

“I have it from several witnesses that a young woman was lowered into the hole and she eventually emerged bringing the baby with her–is this true?”

“We used a volunteer to recover the baby, yes.”

“And this was a young woman?”

“We needed someone small to enter through the tunnel that formed.”

“So this wasn’t an emergency service person?”

“Um–we got the assistance of a specialist who could open the door and recover the baby and take refreshments to the mother who was trapped.”

“A specialist? So the reports of you using a schoolgirl are wrong?”

“As far as I’m aware, we used a specialist locksmith who happened to be small enough to enter the tunnel and recover the baby.”

“And this was a young woman?”

“Yes.”

“Who was she?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“No comment.”

“Well, it seems we have a young woman heroine who put herself at great risk to help rescue a baby and his injured mother. We’re also told that she drew a map to enable the rescue service to plot exactly where the mother was so they could break through the floor and rescue her. Was she a schoolgirl? We’ll find out and let you know, this is Matthew Finch for Newtown TV news.”

I sat silently watching this and felt a numbness inside me. My mother was similarly shocked and PC Armstrong touched me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, poppet, we’ll look after you.” I’m not sure if I believed her or not.

Later after she’d gone and I was going to bed, I asked my mum why I felt like a criminal when I’d actually done something good.

“It’s ironic,” declared my mother, “that the only thing you wanted was to pursue your life in relative quiet and then this happens.”

“Oh, that reminds me, there was some bloke looking for Kelly Ross, I told him there was no one of that name round ’ere.” Brian had come upon the story a bit late and we had to explain things to him. “That was you? Is there a reward?”

“No, I did it to help a baby and his mum.”

“Yeah okay, so I live with the Blessed Virgin Mary, yeah that figures,” he muttered to himself as he went up to his room.

“I’m going to murder that boy one day,” said my mother turning purple with rage. Then calming down she said, “Who’s Kelly Ross?”

“Oh that’s what Miss Erskine calls me.”

“Why?” she shook her head.

“Mainly because she’s a daft old bat who should be pensioned off.”

“Kylie, that’s not a very nice way to describe one of your teachers, is it?”

I shrugged, “She’s as blind as a bat and misread my name–and she drives a car though she can’t see as far as the windscreen.”

“Oh,” my mother winced for a moment, “Is her eyesight really that bad?”

I nodded.

“Perhaps I should speak with your headmistress before there’s an accident.”

“They all know, so I wouldn’t bother.”

“What if she ran you over or one of your friends?”

“Just make sure they get my name right on my tombstone, night Mummy,” I pecked her on the cheek and went up to my bed.

The TV people never did find Kelly Ross and thankfully stopped pestering local schools–well they did find one, a girl the other side of town who was as wide as she was tall and quite obviously hadn’t crept down any narrow holes since she was a toddler.

Life returned to normal and my geography marks continued to be higher than anyone else’s–Miss Erskine wasn’t reported for her defective eyesight until she crashed into the back of a police car that’d stopped in front of her. She claimed bumping her head on the steering wheel had caused her visual problems, until then, she was fine. They believed her but still stopped her driving so now she comes by bus if she happens to catch the right one. Twice I’ve had to take the lesson without her being there–none of my classmates seemed too worried.

It became common knowledge I was going to get the geography prize at Prize Giving, which is usually stuck on the end of speech day when some boring old tart comes and explains how important it is to remember we’re women. Seeing as most of us are wearing skirts and bras it’s not likely we will. They usually go on about glass ceilings, whatever those are–unless it’s to do with those who live in houses with glass ceilings shouldn’t undress with the lights on.

Sure enough, Mizz Cynthia Barwick OBE rattled on about all the usual stuff. I’m sure she had the same notes as last year’s speaker who was the Lady Mayoress or something, she had a loo chain round her neck or something like that. She chuntered on and on about remembering we were not just any women we were Hanky Panky women–yeah, right. I was nearly nodding off to sleep when she shut up and sat down and the headmistress started announcing the prize winners. I woke up a bit more to make sure I didn’t fall over something going up for my Geography loot–I deserved it, so wouldn’t feel at all self conscious, except it was in front of a thousand other girls–grrr.

Normally it comes in the same batch as the history and design ones, and before the maths and science ones. But it didn’t, they went on to do maths and science and Gemma nudged me and whispered, “Oh dear, looks like geography got lost.” She smirked and I glowered at her.

Sports prizes were presented and I really began to feel that I hadn’t got a prize after all, and wished I’d gone sick and stayed home–this was really boring, except Karen got one for being an awesome hockey player and scoring a record twenty goals, Gem and I clapped loudly for her.

I drifted into ennui and was almost asleep when Gemma nudged me. “They’ve remembered Geography.” I sat upright and tried to clear my head.

The first form, the third form, the fourth and so on all the way up to the sixth–what was going on? They left us out entirely, the second form or year eight as some teachers call us.

“And now the Geography prize for year eight, Kylie Mosse.”

At last, I stood up and walked up to the stage to receive my well gotten gains–a book token. As I walked on the stage there was a gentle applause from my friends and one or two other girls who remained awake, most had lost the will to live if they felt like I did.

“Kylie just wait a moment, will you?” The headmistress loosely held my arm. I wondered what was going on. “Some of us here will be aware that Kylie has another unusual skill apart from helping to teach geography classes, if you cast your minds back to last year’s sports day when a lock became jammed and Kylie sorted the problem and saved the day.

“She’s done that since when she helped the police to apprehend a burglar who turned out to be another locksmith like our very own Kylie, but he wasn’t as clever or as neat as Kylie and that enabled the police to find him based upon information given to them by Kylie and her father.”

I was by now blushing bright red and feeling so self conscious I wanted to disappear in a puff of smoke or sink through a crack in the floor of the stage.

“We have one final prize to present. A few months ago a large house collapsed and buried in their basement flat were a young mother and her baby son. No one small enough was available among the emergency services and they realised they also needed to be able to open a locked door to effect a rescue. The police knew of Kylie’s ability to open locks and also that she was small enough to go down the tunnel they’d excavated to the basement flat. They asked her to try and enter the flat and rescue the baby. She didn’t hesitate and after quite a struggle she made it down to the flat, opened the locked door and rescued baby Andrew, and helped the fire and rescue service plot where Andrew’s mother, Sophie, was.”

The school was absolutely silent and all I could hear was the thumping of my heart while I wondered if my ears were steaming yet, they felt so hot.

“It takes a lot of courage for a thirteen year old girl to scramble down a dark tunnel to open a door to goodness knows what, and then to help the mother and rescue a baby boy by ascending the tunnel it just took an hour to scramble down.”

Boy oh boy, this was far more frightening than going down that hole, that was just difficult, this is excruciating. I stood and sweated with embarrassment.

“Ladies, Gentlemen and girls, I’d like to call upon Fire and Rescue Chief Robinson and Mrs Sophie Mullins, to present Kylie with the Royal Humane Society’s award for heroism.”

As the whole place began to applaud I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye and the fire chief from the rescue walked onto the stage with a woman who used a stick–then I remembered she’d lost her leg. She was carrying a baby with her, the one I helped to get out, I suppose.

The Fire and Rescue Chief shook hands with the headmistress. “Headmistress, ladies and gentlemen, girls, I’m really pleased to be here to help present this award. It isn’t given lightly to just anyone, and in my opinion that is a good thing. On this occasion, it is fully justified as the young lady who is stood beside me richly deserves it. I can’t imagine how she felt when we asked her to try and reach the flat, but she agreed as calmly as if we’d asked her to go and grab a loaf from the corner shop. Then she struggled down a couple rollers we’d laid down into the hole to make it easier to move. It was a very difficult descent but she made it, then managed to open the locks on the door and get the baby out from all the chaos you’d expect from a house that was collapsing. Not only that but she was able to show us on a diagram of the building exactly where Mrs Mullins was trapped. That shows a coolness and courage way beyond her years and I salute you.”

With that the silly bugger did just that, saluted me and then shook my hand–well he actually shook my whole body, I suppose because it was attached to my arm. I nearly fell over.

“I know Mrs Mullins would like to say a few words.” The headmistress was off again and only the fact that she still had hold of my arm stopped me from legging it.

The woman came up to the front and shook hands with the headmistress. “I shall never forget the angel who came through my front door that day, in the shape of a young woman. She was cheerful though dirty faced. She gave me a drink of water and asked me where Andrew was, then she pulled out a screwdriver and undid the side of the cot and removed him to safety using the bucket out of my pedal bin.

“I’ll never be able to thank her enough for myself and more importantly for my son.”

The next moment she handed me the baby and she and the fire chief stood either side of me as the whole place began to clap and cheer and I was finally given a certificate saying I was a nationally recognised heroine. They don’t do book tokens apparently.

The local paper took a photo on the understanding I wouldn’t be interviewed, as it was old news, just the photo and a few lines, mainly quotes from Mrs Mullins. I was just thankful it was all over and I could get back to being me, Kylie Mosse, schoolgirl, locksmith and superhero–least that’s what Philip calls me; I won’t tell you what I call him–well a girl’s gotta have some secrets to be interesting.