Chapter 1
The holiday job

“ Oh come on Chris, you’ve done it before with no problems, please help me out.”

“ No, I’ve changed in the last two years, I don’t think I will pass like I used to, and, besides, there must be someone else you can ask”

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My name is Christopher Trevelyan, Chris to my friends. I have just finished the second year of my course for a degree in Sociology and Criminology at the University of Exeter and have gone back home to Mevagissey for my summer break. For those of you that have never heard of Mevagissey, it is a small town on the coast of Cornwall in South West England. It used to be a fishing village, but now most of its income comes from tourism based around its quaint harbour, cobbled streets, hotels, restaurants, accommodation and glorious surrounding countryside, and in season it is bustling and full of holidaymakers. Unfortunately by the time my university course finished the tourist season was well under way, and all of the holiday season jobs were already filled and nothing was on offer, even for someone from the town, as most of the seasonal staff were local school kids trying to earn some spending money or incomers having a working holiday before going back to school or college.

My elder sister Jilly, runs a tea shop/cafe down near the harbour, nothing upmarket, just the normal English cooked breakfasts, soup and rolls and a daily special cooked lunch, cakes and sandwiches for tea, and obviously the well-known Cornish delicacies Pasties and cream teas, all washed down with tea, coffee or fruit juice. There was only a small staff, Jilly the manager and cook, and four waitresses.. Anyway, Jilly was having problems as one of the girls, Wendy had fallen off her surfboard awkwardly yesterday evening and broke her leg, and couldn’t work for a few weeks, effectively for the rest of the season.

“ Oh come on Chris, you’ve done it before with no problems, please help me out.”

“ No, I’ve changed in the last two years, I don’t think I will pass like I used to, and, besides, there must be someone else you can ask.”

I had worked in the cafe for a couple of seasons when I was 16 and 17, but for various reasons Jilly preferred waitresses rather than waiters, and so I had spent two summers effectively as a girl as it was easier than changing back and forth twice a day.

“Please Chris, you know the ropes, and the other girls, and it will be a great help to me. I’ve asked around my friends and the other girls and their families, but either they already have jobs or they are not interested.”

“ I’ll come in to help but not as a waitress, you can work front of house, and I’ll do the cooking, it’s only good plain home-cooked food and I should be able to manage ok.”

And so that’s what happened, I turned up early the next day to get things prepared before the cafe opened, finished off batches of half-baked rolls and croissants, made up a couple of sponge cakes, teacakes, scones, and buns, and the daily cooked special, a couple of large cottage pies. I’ve always worked on the principle that if you can read and can follow a recipe then the end results are normally pretty decent, even if not cordon bleu. Jilly and the waitresses, Jo, Kathy, and Mandy came in about an hour later to set up shop and open up. The early part of the day is usually predictable, either full English breakfasts -any combination of bacon sausage egg tomatoes, beans and toast- , or croissants or toast and jam for the less hungry or adventurous. The day went off smoothly, and after the lunch period was over and the cottage pies all eaten, I left the girls to finish off the day with the drinks cakes and buns.

Jilly come home later, thanked me profusely and surprised me with my share of the tips which was a lot more than they used to give me a couple of years ago. We agreed that we had all worked well together and that I would continue until it was time to go back to college.

A couple of days later, I was just finishing my shift and preparing to leave, when Jilly came into the kitchen.

“I’ve had to sent Mandy home, she has been coughing and sneezing all morning and has a bit of a temperature and generally looks very ill and pale, which does not go down well in a cafe, as customers don’t want germs all over their food. Can you put in the extra half-shift today and I’ll try to get someone else in for tomorrow ?” We had a busy afternoon, and to try to match the waitresses, I wore one of the uniform blouses and slacks, which were a bit androgynous, but not too feminine, and a short white waist apron, but soon forget what I was wearing and just got on with the job.

At the end of the long day, I was completely shattered and just went home to crash out and relax, or so I thought. When Jilly got home I heard her and mum having a long chat in the kitchen and the both then came in with broad smiles.

“The bad news is I couldn’t get anyone to stand in for Mandy, but Mum has agreed that she will cover the kitchen for a few days, until Mandy gets better and comes back in. The bad news is that I’m still short of someone front-of-house will you stand in for a few days.”

“That’s no problem, but I have already told you that I can’t work as Chrissie again, I’ll never get away with it, I’ve grown a bit and put on some weight in the last couple of years.”

“ Oh come on Chris,” Mum said, ”you are still no Arnie Schwarzenegger, you are not much bigger than Jilly, and your hair is very student-length, well over your collar and ears. If we clean and tidy you up and style your hair I’m sure you can still pass as a girl. Your voice is still quite high for a man, and sounds a bit like a husky girl’s, if you just choose your words, think about what you are saying and speak a bit slower, nobody will notice anything out of the ordinary.”

“Please Chrissie,” said Jilly, using the girl’s name she had called me when I worked as a waitress before, “ at least give it a try. Let me re-style your hair, put on a bit of makeup let’s see how you look, and if you don’t think it will work, we’ll think of something else.”

“Why must you have a waitress anyway, what’s wrong with me as a waiter, it worked ok today?”

“Lots of reasons. There is a house style and I like all the staff to wear similar clothes, and also girls normally get better tips than boys, especially if they smile and act nice with the customers. We had a few comments today from customers about the pleasant new girl, so you fitted in without even trying. Please, please give it a go.”

For the next hour or so, wearing one of Jilly’s dressing gowns she took control of me, slightly trimming my hair in places and cutting-in a fringe, tidying it up and setting it with rollers, applying basic daytime make-up, light foundation, eyeliner, mascara, blusher and lipstick. After a few finishing touches with a heated brush, Chrissie was again revealed to the world, or at least to my mum. The three of us agreed that i was presentable and that it would work, and sat and chatted about how tomorrow would go.

Mum went off for an early night as she had to be at the cafe early to prepare the food, leaving Jilly to lecture me about all things girly and how to conduct myself tomorrow.

“ Right , that was ok for a trial but we need to make a bit more effort before you face your public tomorrow. We won’t have a lot of time in the morning so you better go to the bathroom now, have a close shave of all the bits that can be seen, face,, legs, arms, chest, shoulders and have a shower using some of my body lotion, put on the dressing gown and come back down here again.”

Back downstairs, feeling all clean and smooth, I was given a close inspection by Jilly, given a tub of moisturiser which she told me how and where to apply, had my hair reset in rollers, had my eyebrows “cleaned up a bit”, had my nails painted a soft pink, and bits I’d missed shaved by Jilly, and sent off to bed.

The next morning we all rose early, Mum had to go in to the cafe to get the food prepared for the day, Jilly had to help me get sorted out and take care of herself, and so it was all a bit hectic.

“ Chrissie, I’ve left out some clothes and stuff for you on the bed, get dressed and I will help with your make-up after I’ve sorted myself out. And don’t forget the control panties, they will help to keep your dangly bits hidden and firm up your bottom a bit, leave off the blouse until you have put on your foundation make-up” Jilly shouted from the bathroom.

I was soon dressed in full female mode, bra and matching panties, control panties, tights, one of the uniform blouses, a black skirt, and black dress shoes with 2” heel. I had started putting on the eye-liner and eye-shadow when Jilly came in to finish me off.

“ Why do i have to wear a skirt and heels, you and the girls have been wearing trousers and flat shoes all week?”

“ It’s the weekend and a lot of the visitors go home and new ones come in, we try a bit harder to make a good first impression when they look through the window to see what we have to offer, all of us will be in skirts today. Besides, wearing a skirt and heels will enhance your feminine appearance a bit more than slacks and flats. That reminds me, I think you will be better off if you put these breast enhancers into your bra, don’t ask where they came from, us girls have our secrets.”

With a borrowed coat and shoulder bag, we then made our way to the cafe. As it was the weekend, which is our busiest period, all the team were in, including Mandy who had now recovered, ready and waiting for me to make my first appearance as Chrissie. For about 5 minutes I was the centre of attention, lots of comments and questions about how I was dressed and if I was comfortable, and then it was showtime and the door was opened to our public.

We soon settled down into work routine, and even though there were five of us front-of-house we were constantly on the go, and I just settled into my new role and forgot that I was doing anything unusual.

Most of our customers were extremely polite and pleasant but you always get someone who thinks they are too important to wait to be served, or young men who think that the waitresses are also on the menu and can’t keep their hands to themselves. There was one particularly unpleasant group of three lads in their early twenties who were trying to flirt with all of us, fuelled by an earlier session in the pub next door. One of them slapped my backside quite hard when I walked past and when I turned to shout at him he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me over onto his lap. Without thinking I gave him a quick slap to the face and stamped on his foot. Before he could retaliate Jilly and Mandy came over and tried to calm things down. You could see the hostility in his face but his two friends grabbed him and held him back, and they were all asked to get out.

“ Unfortunately we get that from time to time, usually it’s nothing more than a slap or pinch on the bum or an “accidental” brush of the breast, often when they have had a few drinks. Unfortunately it’s something us girls have to put up with. Have a few minutes in the kitchen to calm down then come back out and get on with serving as if nothing happened. That was the main excitement of the day, and when it came to closing time, we all sat down with a cup of tea and the few leftover cakes.

“ You did well today Chrissie, but next time try not to assault the customers,” Jilly said, drawing a lot of giggles from the other girls, “We had a really good day today, I’ve not reckoned up yet but the till seems awfully full, and the tip box looks very good for all of us, there was a bit of a sympathy surge in the tips after Chrissie was assaulted, but please don’t encourage it just to get a bit more money”, again everyone had a good laugh. Now that Mandy is back, and with Chrissie we are back to our usual numbers, Mum would like to go back to her home life of leisure. and Chrissie and I will do alternate days in the kitchen and as waitresses, if everyone is ok with that.”

Jo, Kathy and Mandy were all in agreement with that. We also agreed that except for weekends that it only needed two of us in the “shop” most of the time, and so during the week we would rotate days off. As the holiday season in pretty short a lot of the hotel and catering staff around town worked a six day week and we were open every day, that gave us all a welcome chance to have some time to ourselves.

“Can I suggest” Jo chirped in “that as Chrissie fitted in so well, and none of the customers noticed anything out the ordinary, that she continues as Chrissie, even when working in the kitchen, otherwise it could lead to confusion over names and slips of the tongue at the wrong time, what do you think Chrissie?”

“ I hadn’t planned on it, it’s an awful lot of more work getting ready as a girl in the morning, it’s a lot easier to get up, quick brush of the hair, throw on a tee-shirt and jeans and a pair of trainers and a man is ready to go, but I can see that that it will avoid any confusion over names and things, so if you are all happy for me to continue as Chrissie, let’s give it a go and see how it turns out.”

On Sundays a lot of day trippers come into town in addition to the holidaymakers staying over for a week or two, so we were again rushed off our feet, even with four of us serving. We didn’t get much chance to have a decent break for a lunch for ourselves, just a quick sandwich and an orange juice, but at least the day went off quietly and the three troublemakers didn’t make another appearance and hopefully we wouldn’t see them again.

When we agreed the day-off rota, my time-off was set for the Mondays, so I cleaned off all the make-up and nail polish before I went to bed and was looking forward to a relaxing day tomorrow, back to being Chris.

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To be continued.

To help out his sister, Chris has agreed to work in his sister’s cafe in Mevagissey for the holiday break from university. due to staff problems Chris has been coaxed into working as Chrissie.

Chapter 2,
Girls need to take more care

I had a bit of a lie-in whilst Jilly got ready and went off to the cafe and as it was a glorious calm sunny day after breakfast I got dressed in shorts and tee shirt but with my styled hair, my trimmed eyebrows, and sinewy frame I still looked a bit girly, but if I was going to keep working in the cafe, I couldn’t go back to “butch” easily. I thought I would have a quick bike ride up to the Lost Gardens of Heligan, a tourist venue about 20 minutes out of town, to have a wander around the magnificent garden displays including the wilder more overgrown and wooded valley. Entry can be quite expensive for a day visit, although it is a site well worth a visit, but local residents can get a discounted annual pass for the price of a normal day entry charge, and for students like me it is even cheaper, so it is easy and cheap to make regular visits to see the changes throughout the seasons and I was a frequent visitor.

Whilst a lot of the visitors tend to stay in the main areas near the entrance, the cafe and shops, the formal gardens, the walled garden, and the farm areas, I prefer to go down into “The Lost Valley” and “The Jungle” where there are some amazing wilder areas, with giant bamboos, ferns, and what look like giant Rhubarb leaves, I can never remember their name.

When I was in one of the wilder parts where not too many people visit, I was surprised and worried to see coming down the path towards me the three troublemakers from the cafe.

“Hey lads look who we have here, it’s the snobby bitch from the cafe, I wonder if she’ll be as brave when her friends are not around.”

“ Right fellas” I replied, I don’t want any trouble, I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never seen you before”

The main mouthy guy looked at me again, and turned to his mates, “ I think we made a mistake, we’ve got ourselves a little girly-boy.”

“You are not a good liar, you know who we are and we know who you are. Do you realise that because of you our holiday has been ruined, word got around about what happened at the cafe and we got kicked out of our place and couldn’t get booked into anywhere else . We are having to go back home and we have lost a lot of money. However you have now made my day and at least I will go home with a smile on my face.” He then grabbed me and dragged me into the undergrowth, I had no chance to get away, he was far too big and strong for me. “You two go up and down the path and keep a lookout for anyone coming, while I teach this little weirdo what it really means to be a girl.“

He threw me to the ground drew a knife on me and threatened to use it unless I shut up and did as I was told. He pulled down my shorts and underpants and made me kneel down with my back to him. The next five minutes was the most painful in my life as he roughly penetrated me and pumped at me again and again, I had a knife at my neck and just had to let him rape me. When he was satisfied he got off, pulled up his trousers, and casually walked off to join his friends, with a parting comment of “ Now go back to your friends in the cafe, you should fit in better with them after that.”

I just lay there in a state of shock and agony not knowing what to do. I felt disgusted and humiliated, but I didn’t want to call the police as my story would soon be the talk of the town and I would lose whatever friends I had, and besides, the evil excuse for a man was probably well on his way back home, wherever that was. When women are raped they get a lot of sympathy from friends but male victims become the butt of jokes, innuendo and people become uncomfortable with them. I also felt ashamed that I had not resisted more and just let him do as he wished, and so I did not wish to report it to the police or the Garden security staff.

I couldn’t face a bike ride back home, I was too sore, so I had no choice but to phone Mum and ask her to drive over, meet me at the entrance to the gardens and pick me up. I told her that I had a problem with my bike and needed a lift home. However when I met her I just broke down, burst into tears’ and just sat in the car until I gathered myself together enough to tell her what had happened. She wanted take me to the A&E at the hospital up at Truro, I insisted that we just go home. Despite my protests we ended up at the Police Station in St Austell, where after assurances of confidentiality I reported what had happened to me, was physically examined by a doctor called in by the police, which was almost as traumatic as the actual assault, declared to have no major damage to my internal tissues, and sent home, without a lot of hope that there would be a successful result.

It was late when we got back and Jilly was already home, worried about where we were, and obviously wanted the full details of all that had happened. I just didn’t want to go through it all again, after having told Mum, the Police, and the doctor, and went up to my room leaving Mum to fill in the details. Later Jilly came up and sat with me, full of sympathy, said the least of my concerns was work the next day, and that her and the girls would manage at the cafe, and Mum would stay at home to keep me company. One of the wisest things she said was that most girls have had some sort of sexual encounter that they regretted and that had gone a bit further than they would have wished, even if not actual rape, and the best thing would be to put in into the back of my mind, and get on with my life - yes, easy to say but harder to do.

After a couple of days I did return to work, but as Chris working in the kitchen, dressing as a girl again would only keep my treatment as a girl right up to the front of my mind, and I just didn’t want to face the customers more than necessary. I didn’t mind getting up early to do the kitchen shift as I was only sleeping fitfully and having flashback memories of the assault. Things were not getting any better and Mum suggested I needed some counselling to try and help me come to terms with what had happened. I was coming to this conclusion myself as part of my university studies stressed the benefits of self-help discussions as a means to go forward.

Most of the rape and abuse support groups are heavily slanted towards women and girls, but I did find one in St Austell that also worked with male victims. However when I contacted them, the group leader, Sandy, said that at the moment there were no other men attending the sessions, and asked whether I would be comfortable talking to a support group of women. This didn’t bother me too much and we agreed that I would turn up halfway through the session to give Sandy an opportunity to tell the group that I would be joining them.

When I arrived I waited outside the room for a while listening to the conversation and was shocked at the level of hostility towards men in general and to my joining the group in particular. I almost walked away but decided that it might help me face my demons if I first faced the anger of these women, and so entered the room.

“What is he doing here? After all I have been through the last thing I want is some man looking for sympathy from us, all men are pigs!” screamed one of the women.

“Calm down,” Sandy interrupted, “at least let him tell you what he has been through and why he is here.”.

“Thank you Sandy. My name is Chris, and like you all I am the victim of a violent assault, actually a rape. Like you all I was violated and penetrated and forced to have sex against my will, I was threatened with a knife at my throat, Like probably you all, it is preying on my mind causing me sleepless nights and constant worry. Like you all I feel used, abused, ashamed, and dirty. However, probably unlike you all I also feel inadequate and humiliated because, as a man, I think that I should have done more to protect myself and fight off my attacker. All men are not pigs, as one of you said, many of us, probably most of us, are kind, considerate, and not at all violent, Please accept that men suffer too. I believe that by sharing our experiences and thoughts that we can all help each other to rationalise what we have been through and move on, and I hope that you can allow me to attend your meetings and maybe give a slightly different perspective on things.”

“Wow! !! “ Sandy said ”That was some speech, usually at their first session most newcomers just sit quietly in the corner listening to what others have to say. Does anyone wish to reply to any of that?”

“ Hello Chris, my name is Louise, I’m the one who said all men are pigs. As Sandy said, that was some introduction, and you sounded so sincere, I for one am now quite prepared to accept you being here.” I left the room to give them a chance to talk about me for a few minutes, and was surprised when it was Louise who came out to get me to go back. It was a group discussion with everyone giving their thoughts and others adding their comments. I was surprised that, despite the obvious physical differences of my assault, there were a lot of common feelings of nightmares, flashbacks, insecurities and worries. At the end of the session I shared with them Jilly’s advice to me about putting things to the back of the mind and getting on with life.

After a couple of these sessions everyone was getting a bit more relaxed, and my comments were becoming as accepted, or criticised, in the same manner as everyone else’s. At the end of one session Louise, Sandy, and a couple of the others said they were going for a quick drink and invited me to join them. Over a glass of wine, or beer in my case, they all said that my being at the sessions had really helped them, especially the advice from Jilly. Previously, the discussions had tended to be a bit of a bitching session about men and wallowing in mutual pity, but the way I talked to them was helping them to rationalise and think things through a bit more, and at least get back to some degree of normality, although there was still deep distrust of men in general. These after-meeting drinks became a regular event and we all became friends, especially Louise and I. I was also beginning to be able to relax and was sleeping better, and was generally more comfortable at work, but Chrissie did not make any more appearances.

Soon it was time for me to go back to University for the final year of my degree course. I lived on the campus as it was too far to drive back and forth every day, and so the work at the cafe ended, the holiday season was winding down anyway. I still managed to get to the group sessions but because I was now in Sociology student mode, I found that I was beginning to become as much a counsellor as a participant, but none of the group seemed to notice, or mind.

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To be continued

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Chapter 3,
The project and beyond

Having mostly dealt with the trauma and aftermath of a violent assault and rape, Chris was now back at University but still involved with the support and counselling group

As is common in most university courses, although there were still a lot of formal lecture sessions, a major part of the final year is given over to a research project or dissertation, which ends with a submitted report and presentation of the the project to fellow students and staff. As I was still involved with the support group I asked that my time and experiences with them form the basis of my dissertation. My tutor was quite happy with this and advised that a personal involvement with a subject often results in a better result, but that I should still try to remain slightly detached so that my project remained objective and professional, and did not become too personal. She also suggested that as I would need to spend more time with the support group, it might be easier if I based myself at the associated campus in Truro, where I could access all the research information, and, depending on the course modules I chose, could also attend some sessions there or by video link, and only go in to Exeter when necessary for particular modules and to review my progress with the dissertation. After clearing with Sandy that it was acceptable to use the support group for my research, that’s what I decided to do and I gave up my room in the Halls of Residence and moved back home, saving a lot of money.

I continued working with the support group, although Sandy was now happy to let me lead a lot of the discussions and I was getting a lot of useful ideas and perspectives to incorporate into my report. At one of the sessions I was asked what had got me into the situation where I was assaulted, so I gave them a quick run down of how I got there just leaving out the details of exactly where I lived and had worked, as there was still a lot of confidentiality involved with everyone’s personal background, although everyone was pretty open with emotions and their thoughts.

“It’s coming up to Christmas soon,“ said Sandy, “What does anyone think about going out together for a meal to celebrate? We are all becoming a little bit more relaxed and outgoing and we should get out and enjoy ourselves again.” The normal after-meeting crew and a few others were up for it, so we agreed to book one of the better Italian Restaurants in St Austell for the Friday before Christmas. Louise, who was the one I had become most friendly with chipped in “Chris, now that we know about Chrissie, and her effect on your life, it would be nice if we could meet her, don’t say no straight away, have a think about it.

And so a couple of weeks later, Chrissie turned up at Trattoria Napoli for our Christmas party. Jilly had got me all glammed up, with a “LBD” with silver and red sparkles, which she thought very Christmassy, matching black lacy underwear, and 3” strappy heels, heavier evening make-up, and with a new, more feminine hairdo with a bit of colour and highlights that she had got one of her hairdresser friends to do for me. She had driven me up to St Austell, and with a “Call me if you want a lift home, I’m not going out tonight, go sock it to them Sis.”, Jilly watched me go to the door and then left for home.

With my coat buttoned up and holding my small clutch evening bag tightly, like a security blanket, I entered the restaurant shyly, and saw the gang in a separate alcove at the far end of the restaurant, where I thought we would have a bit of privacy and not attract too much attention, but it was not to be. Suddenly I had a gang of giggling women all over me, “Wow, where have you been hiding”, “you look amazing”,“love the dress”, “you should keep your hair like that, it really suits you”, “welcome to the party Chrissie come and sit down and have a glass of wine”, so much for not attracting too much attention.

I had an amazing evening, the girls were fantastic and so welcoming, the food was delicious, especially the Lean Gurnard, a traditional Italian regional Christmas recipe made with fish, seafood and vegetables, and the tiramisu was to die for. After the meal we all got up to dance, even finishing off the night with the waiters leading us in a traditional Tarantella folk dance. Dancing in heels for the first time was different, the whole balance and body movement changes, but I managed without falling over or treading on anyone. It was all over too quickly, I had really enjoyed myself and just fitted in with the girls, like I had at the cafe, but it was soon time to go home. I couldn’t get a reply from Jilly’s phone, sometimes in bad weather the signals are not very good down in Mevagissey, I didn’t want to call home as, if Jilly had decided to go out, I didn’t want mum to come out on such a dark wet night, and the cost of a taxi back from St Austell would be a silly price.

“ Why don’t you come back to mine,” said Louise, “I don’t live too far away, and there is a spare bed.”

“ Are you sure, all men are pigs remember.”

“ I think I might be mellowing, you have helped pull me back from that, and besides I see a Chrissie before me, not a Chris.”

After a drink and a chat about how everyone had loosened up and enjoyed the night, it was time for bed. “That’s the spare room in there, you had better go in and clean off the warpaint, feel free to use any of the cleansers and things you find in the bathroom, and don’t forget to moisturise when you are done. I’ll dig out something for you to wear, and leave it on the bed for you.’’

I had a problem in that Jilly had got some adhesive breast forms for me for tonight as they would help the LBD sit better, and I didn’t have the remover with me, but it worked out ok as Louise had left me out a satin ice-blue strappy nightie which fitted surprisingly well over “my” breasts. I went out for a goodnight hug and kiss, thanked her for putting me up and went off to bed. After the bustle and excitement of the day and evening I dropped straight off to sleep.

I woke the next morning and felt a tickle on my face which turned out to be Louise’s hair, she had crept into the bed instead of going into her own and we had slept spooned all night.

”Louise are you awake.”

“H’mm, I’m still a bit sleepy, go and help yourself to coffee or something and I’ll be out in a while”.

I grabbed a matching full-length dressing gown from the door hook and went out into the kitchen and by the time she appeared there was a pot of coffee on the go, and some fresh croissants just coming out of the oven.

“I forgot you sometimes work in the cafe kitchen, I could get used to this pampering. I’m glad you enjoyed last night and got on so well with the rest of the girls, we must do it again sometime soon, but maybe just the two of us.”

“Are you sure? When we first met you hated and were wary of all men, and now you invited me into you house, shared a bed with me and are suggesting we go out on a date.”

“ I’m pretty sure, I’m now a lot more content, but I need to make certain, come back to bed with me now and we’ll see how it goes.” We were both a little bit apprehensive as it was the first time for both of us since we had been raped and emotions were very mixed, but we eagerly started to explore each other’s body, caressing and kissing, and we soon made quite passionate love until we had both reached climaxes, and relaxed cuddled in each others arms. After an encore or two, we decided we had better get out of bed and enjoy the day.

I had no change of clothes, I had intended to go back home, and the dress was too formal to wear for a day around town, but Louise offered the loan of a skirt and top which was a reasonable fit for me. After applying a light daytime make-up, and some lippy and mascara, we went into town for a lunch and some shopping. “You can’t go home on the bus in your dress, it’s over-the-top for day-time, you need to get some new clothes. Either get some Jeans, a shirt and some trainers, and go back as Chris, or get a skirt, top and some shoes and go back as Chrissie, which is it to be? If you ask me, with your hair styled and streaked like that and with your false boobs, I suggest Chrissie is the best option.” My collection of women’s clothes had started

The next few months were very intense between my College course work at Exeter and Truro, researching and compiling my dissertation, and continuing with the group sessions, although often attending as Chrissie, rather than as Chris, at the suggestion of Louise and Sandy. I was becoming much more relaxed and at ease as Chrissie, and, apart from the occasional discomfort of nipping bras and control briefs, beginning to actually enjoy the feel and emotions of life as a woman and being dressed in skirts and dresses. Between Jilly and Louise I had never-ending advice on what suited me and what I should avoid.

The members of the group sessions constantly changed as some came to terms with their experiences and moved on in life, but unfortunately there were always new people to replace them. Most of the new members became regulars for a while but some only came once, sat quietly listening without contributing and disappointingly never came back. Louise stopped attending as, helped by the counselling sessions and my personal attention to her in bed, she was now outwardly totally comfortable in male company, although she still had a preference for me to be Chrissie whenever I stayed over at her place.

Many of the new members were still traumatised from their experiences, but we found that my appearance and personal history as Chrissie helped them to open up. As research, I had lots of one-to-one discussions with several ex-members of the group who had now moved on, and explored how and why the sessions had helped. One of them, Angela, told me that before I started with them, the discussions were not doing her a lot of good, a lot of the talk was just about self-pity. and how horrible men were. However my positive approach and openness about my own feelings had encouraged her to think about what she wanted in life and how to move on to achieve her aims, and that she was now much happier and owed a lot of it to me. This made me feel really good and I began to consider this style of work as a career after my graduation, to see if I could really make a difference to peoples lives.

I completed my course and submitted my dissertation, “The Benefits of Group Counselling for the Victims of Sexual Trauma“, including, anonymously, a lot of the comments I had received from my discussions, along with references to research papers by others. I prepared for my presentation to fellow students and staff, and although these are normally low-key and rather routine affairs, I decided, with the guarded approval of my tutor, to make my presentation as Chrissie. When I approached the podium wearing heels skirt blouse and full make-up and was introduced as Christopher Trevelyan, there was a bit of a murmur and a few sniggers and giggles around the room.

“Good afternoon everyone, most of you know me and you may be a bit surprised, shocked, embarrassed, or even disgusted, at the way I am dressed, but this is nothing compared to the embarrassment, disgust and humiliation suffered by the victims of sexual assault. Recovery is often a long drawn out affair, unless the victims can be made to realise that rather then harbouring anger at the actions of their attacker, and wallowing in self-pity, time would be better spent determining where they wanted their life to go and making positive changes to get there. Sometimes you need to adopt an unconventional approach to dealing with each individual person to suit their particular issues, rather than adopt a one-size-fits-all solution, which I why I dressed like this for a lot of my research discussions. I then followed up with an outline of my involvement with my support group and gave examples, obviously with the names changed, and details of how their lives had been turned around by attending the group sessions. As I finished, what started out as the normal polite ripple of applause turned into a crescendo of clapping, whistles, and even a “good for you girl, go for it”.

As I left the room I was approached by a well dressed middle-aged lady who did not seem to fit into the category of either student or staff, who I vaguely recognised but couldn’t put a name to.

“ Hello Chris or is it Chrissie, you may not remember me but I attended one of your support group discussions. I am Marilyn Wright, I am the director of Social Services at Cornwall County Council. Sandy at the support group told about how you changed the approach at the group sessions and were able to sympathise and empathise with many of the people there, especially using your penchant for dressing as Chrissie to help them accept you and help them move on in life, and so I came to see for myself, and left very impressed.That was an excellent presentation today and I was most intrigued that you appeared as Chrissie, but it really helped to get your points across. Here is my card, when all the excitement is over, assuming you have done well on your course give me a call, I think we may have a very good opportunity for you.”

A few weeks later, now as a proud graduate with BSc (Hons) -1st class, I called up Marilyn Wright who told me that she needed to replace one of their social workers who was retiring on health grounds, and that if I decided to join her team, my primary role would be to support and monitor voluntary groups around the county helping people with all sorts of problems, trauma , sexual, disability, psychological and victims of crime. Although most of the groups were run on a self-help voluntary basis the Council gave practical and limited financial support to allow the work to continue. She added that my ability to work as either Chris or Chrissie could help in certain circumstances but that would be at my discretions if I felt it useful. Obviously I would need to make a formal application and pass interview, but she said that would not present a problem as the job was mine if I wanted it.

I got the job without any difficulty and I moved in full-time with my fiancée Louise in St Austell to set up home together, and although to the world in general and to neighbours I was Chris, in the privacy of our own home, and for special nights out Chrissie made frequent appearances. As most of my work was out-and-about rather than office-based I was free to appear as Chris or Chrissie as appropriate and as the mood took me.

I now have a loving and understanding partner, a fulfilling career with excellent long-term prospects with a caring and tolerant employer, life is wonderful, who knows what the future might bring ! Maybe a little bit of suffering makes us all stronger and a better person if we can overcome the immediate pain.

The end