The seventeen year old boy stared at his reflection in the mirror and let out a long, tired sigh. It was a day he'd been planning for for weeks, and now that it was finally here, he felt nervous.

He was also excited, of course- it was Halloween, and he was heading to his first proper Halloween party with his older brother, his first proper 'adult' party. His costume, however, was very different to the one his brother was wearing. Greg had opted for a 'Dexter' inspired costume of plain clothing spattered with theatrical blood. Matthew's costume was much more elaborate... And not something Greg would EVER be seen wearing regardless of the date.

From birth, Matthew had always been different from his older brother. Greg was a typical 'lad'. He loved football, beer and loose women, worked in a pub and spent most of his time telling inappropriate jokes and/or farting a lot. Matthew also liked football and inappropriate jokes and had developed a taste for beer despite his youth, and whilst his sex life (and his flatulence) wasn't as prolific as his brother, he was just as attracted to women... He just also harboured a secret desire to be a woman.

From an early age, Matthew had been obsessed with girls. With their clothes, their make-up, their jewellery- especially their sparkling, beautiful jewellery- Matthew had dreamed about what it would be like to wake up one day as a girl, to be able to get up, pull on a skirt or a dress and go about his- or rather, her- day without a care in the world. However, Matthew was also smart enough to realise that it would never be as simple as that. If he lived in a more upper class part of the world, he might have been able to get away with such an 'eccentricity', but he didn't. He lived in Openshaw, one of the roughest parts of Manchester, and if he suddenly presented himself to the world as a girl, his neighbourhood would likely have a conniption. His mother and his two younger sisters likely would as well. But that would be nothing compared to his brother's rage.

Greg and Matthew's father had left the household in 2001, when the former was fourteen and the latter was just eight years old, and as much as Matthew had come to see Greg as his only role model, the reverse had also been true. As much as Greg enjoyed teasing his younger brother, he loved spending time with him, teaching him all the things he felt the younger boy should know- all about football, beer and loose women. Matthew paid attention throughout these 'lessons', but secretly, he was planning his own 'learning'. After discovering the internet at the age of twelve, Matthew began secretly researching everything to do with femininity. He read online magazines and blogs, watched videos on fashion and make-up tutorials and even began to practise feminine mannerisms, such as adjusting his walk, his body language and even his speech. From a purely practical standpoint, Matthew felt perfectly equipped to become a woman. He just lacked one thing- the support of his family. But all that was about to change, and Matthew was about to find out whether it would be for the better or the worse.

"Matt!" Greg bellowed from the living room. "Get a fucking move on, all the beer'll be gone!"

"Alright, keep your hair on!" Matthew replied as he applied the finishing touches to his costume. "Alright... Here goes." Matthew took several deep breaths before opening his bedroom door and slowly descending the stairs, his legs wobbling on the footwear he was unaccustomed to wearing.

"Took you long enough," Greg snorted as Matthew opened the living room door. "Come on, we'll- WHAT THE FUCK!?"

"What?" Matthew shrugged as he posed in his costume, one hand on his hip and the other clutching a multi-coloured feather duster. "You did say it was a costume party, right?" Matthew smiled nervously as he let Greg and the rest of his family take in the sight of the costume, even as internally, he felt his legs start to tremble.

The trembling wasn't helped by the 3 inch stiletto heels that Matthew was barely balancing on, nor the ripped fishnet tights that offered very little protection from the cold October air. Matthew had no doubt, though, that his brother's biggest problem was the tiny black dress covering his torso and his thighs, or the lace trim on the dress, or the fact that he'd used padding to fill the front of the dress, or the fact that he was wearing as much 'regular' make-up as he was stage make-up...

"You want to swap costumes with him or something?" Ellen- Matthew and Greg's younger sister- asked with a giggle, which made Matthew grin, though he couldn't be sure whether the giggling was at Greg's expense or his.

"Get changed," Greg said, taking several breaths to calm himself.

"Why?" Matthew asked. "This costume cost me a lot of money."

"You do know we're going to a pub, right?" Greg asked. "A pub with a lot of guys around my age?"

"Yes...?" Matthew replied, triggering a long groan of frustration from his brother.

"And you're going as a fucking French maid!" Greg snapped.

"Greg! Watch your language around your sisters!" Mrs. Briggs chastised her older son, who growled in frustration.

"ZOMBIE French maid," Matthew said. "Check out the make-up here, here and here." Matthew smirked as he pointed to the deathly pale colour he'd smeared his face with, as well as the bruises and lesions he'd painted onto his body.

"So are you trying to get the shit beaten out of you?" Greg snarled. "Either get changed or you're not coming."

"Huh, guess I'm not coming then," Matthew shrugged, flopping down on the sofa next to his sister.

"Ugh, Matt- you've been on about going to this party for weeks," Greg sighed. "You wouldn't shut up about it, and now that it's finally here, you decide you're going to ruin it for yourself."

"How am I ruining it by dressing like this?" Matthew asked.

"Look," Greg said. "I'm not opposed to the occasional bit of cross-dressing in the name of fun. I went out in drag for my friend's hen night last year, remember?"

"I remember," Ellen snorted. "That image is burned onto my retinas, you looked like a gorilla in a dress!"

"And that's my point," Greg said. "Matt, you- you actually look like you could be a girl."

"Thanks," Matthew replied with a smug smile.

"That's not something to be proud of," Greg spat. "Especially not when I've told my friends I'm bringing along my brother, they're going to expect, well, a man!"

"Last time I checked, I still have a cock," Matthew replied.

"Matthew!" The boys' mother snapped, before sighing. "Matthew... Why HAVE you dressed like that tonight? There are a million things you could've gone as."

"I wanted to be a zombie French maid," Matthew shrugged. "I can't explain why, I just know that this is what I wanted to go as."

"Where did you even get the costume?" Ellen asked.

"At a fancy dress store, where d'you think?" Matthew replied. "Thing about only being 5' 7" is you have a lot of choice come Halloween."

"And out of all the things in there, that's what you chose?" Greg asked.

"It looked the most fun," Matthew shrugged, as internally, he sighed. Of all the questions that was being asked, the one he most wanted to answer was being deliberately avoided- whether or not he enjoyed wearing female clothing.

Matthew had tried numerous times to come out to his family in different ways. From asking his mother if she'd have preferred to have three daughters and one son instead of two of each, to what she would've named him had he been born a girl, but on each occasion, the topic was quickly dismissed, as though the very concept was offensive to his mother. No one had ever delved into why Matthew had asked such questions, and now that he had forced the issue in the most upfront way possible... Nothing had changed.

After Greg left, Matthew let out a long, tired sigh, before slinking back to his bedroom to remove his make-up and his costume, groaning as he stared at his plain, boyish features in his mirror. He was disappointed that he wouldn't be attending the party, but he was much more disappointed that his time in his costume had come to an end.

Matthew had read up about transgender issues on the internet and was familiar with virtually every aspect of it, and while he had no intention of ever taking any hormone pills or undergoing any surgeries, he'd always hoped that one day, he'd be able to leave the house dressed as a girl with his head held high, and with the full support of his family. On the cold Halloween night, however, that dream seemed further away than ever...

"Knock knock?" Matthew heard his youngest sister call from outside his bedroom, snapping him out of his daydream. "Still got your costume on?"

"Umm, no, not anymore," Matthew replied. "You can come in, Sash."

"Thanks," the thirteen year old girl said as she entered the room and sat on the edge of her brother's bed. "Greg was REALLY pissed off with you."

"Yeah, I got that, thanks," Matthew replied, before letting out a long sigh. "Sorry, Sash. Didn't mean it like that."

"S'okay," Sasha shrugged. "Matt- why DID you wear that costume? I mean, you must've had loads to pick from, you go as something you know would really piss him off?"

"I-" Matthew replied, before letting another, longer sigh and flopping back onto his bed. "I just thought it'd be fun. Just a laugh, you know?" Internally, Matthew kicked himself for his cowardice. The very question he'd wanted to be asked, by the person he knew would be most receptive to the answer, and he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth.

"If you say so," Sasha said.

"And that's supposed to mean?" Matthew snorted.

"I've seen guys dress up as girls for 'a laugh'," Sasha said. "Hell, even Greg has, like he said just now. Like Ell said, he looked like a right knob. And like Greg said, you- you didn't. You really looked like you could, you know, be 'real'. I mean, like 'real' as a girl, that sort-of, umm, thing..."

"Umm- okay," Matthew replied, wondering whether or not he should thank his sister for what was obviously intended as a compliment.

"Matt? Sash? You in here?" Ellen asked as she climbed the stairs and poked her head around her brother's bedroom door. "Is it 'Matt' as in 'Matthew' or, I dunno, 'Nat' like 'Natalie' or 'Natasha'?"

"It's Matthew, mouth," the seventeen year old boy scoffed as Ellen plopped down next to their sister on his bed.

"Pity," Ellen said. "Would've been nice to outnumber boys in this household for once."

"What d'you call mum, then?" Matthew asked.

"Referee, most days," Sasha quipped, making her sister giggle. "Do- d'you reckon Greg'll, you know, get over it?"

"He'll be too pissed tonight not to," Ellen snorted. "He'll be fine, he'll just write it off as another one of Matt's practical jokes."

"Which is what it was, right?" Sasha asked hesitantly.

"Umm, sure, yeah!" Matthew shrugged. "Didn't really want to go to that party anyway, Greg's mates are all knobs."

"Well- yes, true," Ellen said. "Even the fit ones. If that's the best you boys have to offer it almost makes me wish I were a lesbian."

"Lovely," Matthew snorted. "Look, honestly, I'm fine, okay? It were a practical joke that bombed, don't worry about me, okay?"

"Well- okay," Sasha said, though her voice and her demeanour made it clear that she was far from convinced. "If- if you want to, you know, talk..."

"Let me get back to you on that," Matthew sighed. "MUCH later."

"Okay, okay!" Ellen scoffed. "Come on, Sash, let's leave 'Natalie' to her sulk..." Matthew rolled his eyes as his sisters left the room, before laying back onto his bed and letting out a long, pained moan.

The following morning, Matthew headed to college wearing his trademark black jeans and well-worn Manchester City F.C. hoodie like nothing had happened the night before. Matthew hadn't had the opportunity to talk to his brother after his return from his party, but knew what his response would be- the same as his mother's and his sisters' response, which was no response at all. Not a word was said over breakfast about his choice of costume, and when Matthew arrived at college, no one there even knew about the costume.

Matthew was desperate to tell someone, anyone about it, even if just to gauge their reaction, but he knew that of the few friends he had, none of them would understand. Matthew could talk to his friends about football, about television, even about girls, but he could never talk about the one girl he fantasised about the most- himself.

A month passed, and the memory of Matthew's Halloween costume seemed to fade from the Briggs household as they looked forward to their next major celebration. November 30th was Matthew's birthday, and that year, it wasn't just any birthday, but his eighteenth.

On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Matthew was woken up by his mother, his brother and his sisters crowding into his bedroom, singing 'Happy Birthday to You' and showering him with cards and presents. Presents that included a new football shirt, DVDs, video games and clothes- a new pair of jeans, two new sweatshirts and three t-shirts, all of which were very obviously from the menswear section of the shops they were bought from. Matthew was genuinely grateful for all of his gifts, but as he headed to college, he wished that one of the presents, just one of them, could've been a new dress, or a skirt, or a make-up set, or anything feminine. Any sign that could reassure him that he didn't have to hide anymore.

"Hey Briggsy!" Dave, Matthew's closest college friend, cheered as Matthew sat down for lunch at his usual table. "Happy birthday, mate!"

"When you gonna get our beers in, then?" Josh- another of Matthew's friends- teased.

"Not wasting time then, are you?" Matthew snorted, making his friends laugh.

"Not our fault you're the first to turn eighteen," Josh retorted. "That's the rule- if you're eighteen first, you get the beers in."

"Who made up this 'rule'?" Matthew complained, earning sniggers from his friends.

"Seriously mate," Dave said. "What you got planned for the weekend?"

"Nothing much," Matthew shrugged. "Greg'll probably try to drag me out with his mates again."

"Oh yeah, you never said what happened at Halloween," Josh said. "You were looking forward to it, then nothing happened?"

"I just didn't want to go out with HIS mates," I said. "...Much rather have gone with you two."

"Ah, you soft bastard!" Dave laughed, giving the birthday boy a rough, but still playful shove and reminding him why he'd never be able to truly open up to his friends- at least, not about what he most wanted to tell them.

When Matthew arrived home, he played the part of the birthday boy to perfection, wolfing down the special dinner of sausages, chips and gravy that his mother always made him on his birthday, followed by a large helping of apple tart and custard and- as it was a special birthday- a glass of sparkling wine. Matthew forced a smile on his face when his father dropped round to give him his presents and spend over an hour talking about football with him and Greg (though that didn't come too hard to Matthew), and eventually headed to bed just after 10pm feeling tired and frustrated.

As he headed up the stairs, Matthew wondered if he'd have felt better if he'd never dressed up in the first place, if he'd buried his desires deep down in a hole where he would never have had to think about them ever again. It wasn't like Matthew hated being a boy- not having to worry about his appearance, eating whatever he wanted and talking about cars and football all appealed to him. But so did putting on make-up, wearing short skirts and dangly earrings and talking about clothes and celebrities. Matthew dreamed of playing for Manchester City and scoring the winning goal at Wembley Stadium, but he also dreamed of being a ballerina and dancing on a stage- but most of all, Matthew dreamed of having someone to share his desires with.

When Matthew entered his bedroom, though, he recoiled in surprise as he discovered a large, unopened pile of presents on his bed, wrapped in pink wrapping paper- and his two pyjama-clad sisters sat on the bed next to them.

"...Am I going to have to throw you out of my room again?" Matthew snorted, earning eye rolls from both girls.

"If you do, we're taking these with us!" Ellen replied with a smug grin.

"Even if they wouldn't fit us," Sasha said with a giggle.

"What- what do you mean?" Matthew asked. "What's going on?"

"Matt, stop being soft in the head," Ellen snorted. "We know what's going on. We've known since your tantrum at Halloween what's going on!"

"Well- we think we do, anyway," Sasha said cautiously.

"Again, what. Is. Going. On?" Matthew growled.

"Okay, cut to the chase, we got you more presents," Ellen said with a sigh. "We thought- we thought that you might like these more than some of what else you got."

"If we're wrong, just tell us, and we won't speak of this again," Sasha said, handing Matthew a present that obviously contained an item of clothing.

"Okay..." Matthew said, his jaw dropping as he read the label.

'To Natalie,' the label read. 'From your sisters on your eighteenth birthday.'

"Open it," Sasha whispered emotionally. Natalie carefully tore the wrapping paper open, and started to tremble with anxiety as he discovered it contained a short denim skirt that was obviously in his size.

"Wh- what?" Matthew asked.

"I told you he wouldn't," Sasha whispered to her sister with a sigh.

"Matt," Ellen said softly. "Or Nat. Whatever. We told you at Halloween that your costume wasn't just- well, wasn't just you being a dumb boy, but that- that it looked like you have, you know, 'more' to you."

"Like I said, if we're wrong, we'll take it all back," Sasha said. "Unless, of course, you- you don't want us to?" Matthew bit his lip as he stared at the item of clothing in his hand. Unlike his rough jeans, the denim of the skirt was lighter and softer, and the mere feel of it against his fingers sent tingles of excitement through his body. What it would feel like against his legs, he could only dream- except he didn't have to dream, not any more. All he had to do was accept the gift, and he would have his very first skirt that was 100% his.

Matthew paused as he stared at his sisters, waiting for some sign that they were playing a practical joke on him, but all he saw in their eyes was sincerity. A tear trickled down Matthew's cheek as he finally concluded that his birthday wish might be coming true after all.

"...You two are the best sisters ever," Matthew whispered, giggling as Ellen and Sasha jumped off the bed and gave him a tight group hug.

"You never know," Ellen chuckled. "You might end up being the best sister ever too!"

"Hey!" Sasha protested, earning a stuck-out tongue from Ellen and a girlish giggle from Matthew.

"We'll keep the clothes in our rooms, but you can come and get them any time you want," Ellen said, ignoring her younger sister's rolled eyes. "Obviously we won't tell mum about this, or Greg, and definitely not dad. Well- unless you want us to, anyway."

"Ah- umm..." Matthew mumbled. If he wanted to tell his brother and his mother about 'Natalie', it had suddenly become a lot easier to do so. Three against two was a much less daunting prospect than one against four, but if it went badly, the price would still be far too high. If forced to choose between 'male and with the full love and support of family', or 'can choose gender but homeless and unloved', Matthew would choose the former. He was forced to admit to himself, however, that his sisters had proved that 'Natalie' would always have at least some love and support whenever and wherever 'she' needed it.

"We can keep it to ourselves for now," Sasha said with a supportive smile. "Is this- is this, you know, the birthday you always dreamed of?"

"Heh, you have NO idea," Matthew giggled as he was handed another present, which he opened to reveal a lace-trimmed girl's t-shirt.

By the time Matthew had unwrapped all of his presents, his head was almost spinning from the euphoria he felt. The clothes were all obviously second-hand- both of his sisters relying on pocket money for their income- but that didn't matter to him at all. He was the proud owner of 2 skirts, 2 girlish tops, 1 casual dress and even a pair of scruffy ballet flats. Neither Ellen nor Sasha would be caught dead wearing such cheap clothing, but Matthew couldn't wait to change into it- even though she suspected she'd never be able to wear it beyond her bedroom door.

"If you ever want any underwear, let us know and we'll get it for you," Sasha offered.

"By which she means 'give us the money and we'll buy it'," Ellen clarified. "You are NOT borrowing any of ours!"

"Ew, like I'd ever!" Matthew teased, giggling as Ellen snorted and roll her eyes at him. "But thanks. I appreciate it. Does- does that offer apply to, umm, jewellery and make-up too?"

"'Course," Ellen shrugged. "Why, seen anything you like the look of?"

"Just- um, just those," Matthew said with a nervous chuckle as he playfully brushed the long, dangly earrings hanging from his sister's earlobes. "Kinda always wondered what they'd feel like, heh."

"Well if you can wait 25 days for Christmas, maybe you'll find out," Ellen said with a soft smile, before giving her brother another tight hug. "But I am glad you, you know, liked the gifts."

"And we won't tell anyone until you're ready, we promise," Sasha said, hugging Matthew after Ellen. "Happy birthday, 'sis'!"

"Thanks," Matthew whispered, smiling and revelling in the feeling of 'her' new clothing as Ellen and Sasha closed the door behind them.

The following day was a Wednesday, which meant that Matthew attended college just as he did the day before. However, the melancholy he'd felt the previous day had vanished, replaced by a new sense of optimism.

During the first few weeks of December, Matthew took his sisters up on their offer and amassed a small collection of a few pairs of panties, a couple of pairs of black tights and one bra that he wore for at least a small period of time every night in the run-up to Christmas.

On Christmas Day, Matthew woke up early and headed downstairs to find a large pile of presents in his usual spot on the sofa, alongside piles for his sisters that the two girls were swiftly tearing into. The smiles on their faces were enough to assure Matthew that he could expect an extra pile of presents from them later in the day, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something they weren't telling him.

"Ah, merry Christmas!" the teenagers' mother said with a grin as she exchanged a hug with the eighteen year old boy.

"Merry Christmas mum!" Matthew chuckled. "Greg here yet?"

"He's texted, he'll be here in a few minutes," Mrs. Briggs replied. "I hope you're better at waiting to open your presents than your sisters are!" Depends on what they are, Matthew thought to himself.

"As long as he's not TOO long," Matthew chuckled, feeling one of his presents and imagining that the clothing within was a new skirt rather than the jeans or sweatshirt it would inevitably turn out to be.

Matthew's brother arrived a short while later, and the five people in the house wasted no time in opening their presents. Matthew opted to open the presents he knew to be clothing first, to get the inevitable disappointment out of the way, but when he opened the first present, he received the shock of his young life.

"Wh- what?" Matthew stammered as he pulled the patterned, knee-length black skirt out of its wrapper. "Am- have I- umm, who- who is this meant to be for?" Time seemed to stop as Matthew's family looked at him, before his mother spoke up.

"It's for you, Matt," Mrs. Briggs said softly with a kind, supportive look in her eyes.

"Wh- what?" Matthew asked, his face tingling and his hands quickly turning to ice.

"You'd really trust her to keep a secret?" Sasha chuckled, laughing harder as her sister- the 'her' she was speaking about- elbowed her in the ribs.

"...Yeah, I told mum," Ellen said, recoiling as Matthew shot an angry glare at her. "What? I didn't just go straight downstairs and blab everything to her, ask Sash if you don't believe me."

"...We told her a few days after your birthday," Sasha confessed. "We saw how happy- well, how happy THAT made you, and we explained it to mum calmly, and she came up with this idea."

"To nearly make me wet myself and give me a heart attack?" Matthew asked, grimacing as his mother's facial expression suddenly hardened.

"You could say 'thank you'," Mrs. Briggs chastised.

"...Thank you," Matthew mumbled. "I- I don't know what to say other than that, heh."

"Well THAT makes a nice change, for starters!" Mrs. Briggs chuckled. "But Sasha's right. What's important is that you do what makes you happy. Yes, it came as a shock. But I'd rather have a happy son who wears a dress than a miserable son who wears trousers."

"...Greg?" Matthew asked his brother, who had remained silent throughout the gift giving.

"Well let's face it, the signs were kinda obvious," Greg sighed. "Halloween was kind of a giveaway, looking back at it. But mum's right. It's about what you want."

"Just as long as I'm not seen out in public with you, right?" Matthew snorted, before withering again under another stern stare from his mother.

"Your brother is making an effort," Mrs. Briggs said sternly.

"Yep, so did I on Halloween," Matthew said. "I was bricking it coming downstairs in that costume. And then my worst fears came true." Matthew bit his lip as his brother stared at the floor with a guilty look on his face.

"Yeah, I was a bit of a knob about it," Greg sighed. "But you would probably have had the shit kicked out of you in that costume. But, yes, that says more about my friends than it does about you. If you want to go outside as, well, THAT... I'll stand by you."

"So will we," Sasha said.

"Especially when you go for this," Ellen said, handing Matthew a small envelope.

"What's this?" Matthew asked, his voice and hands still trembling from the shock.

"Do you want to maybe try opening it?" Ellen snorted. Gingerly, the eighteen year old boy opened the envelope to find a card detailing an appointment at a local piercing parlour... And a pair of long, ostentatious dangly earrings.

"...Perfect," Matthew said, a wide smile spreading across his face as he realised that not only did he no longer have to hide who he truly was- or rather, who she truly was- but that she'd always have the love and support of her family no matter what.

Seventeen months later, Natalie followed her brother out of the Etihad stadium in Manchester with a wide grin on her face. Her beloved Manchester City FC had just beaten their local rivals 1-0 and taken a step closer to their first league title in 44 years, but what made her the most happy was that she was able to enjoy the game dressed in a knee-length denim skirt and a girlish t-shirt, with her face fully made up and, of course, dangly earrings hanging from her lobes. And all throughout the day, Greg had said nothing critical, but had only been supportive of his newest sister.

"So what d'you reckon then?" Greg asked Natalie as they headed toward the bus stop. "Premier League this year, Champions League next year?"

"Gotta be," Natalie replied confidently. "That'd be part 2 of 3."

"What are parts one and two?" Greg asked, confused by his sister's unexpected statement.

"Part 1 is obvious, right?" Natalie snorted.

"...Yeah, in hindsight- yeah," Greg chuckled. "What's part 3?"

"Find someone who'll love me for who I am," Natalie whispered. "Not holding out too much hope for THAT one, heh."

"Don't be so unsure," Greg shrugged. "Though mum'd probably say you should get a job before trying to find yourself a girlfriend."

"Like she hasn't a million times already," Natalie scoffed. "Dunno many jobs that'll allow me to dress like this in the workplace, though."

"I dunno," Greg shrugged. "You're good at languages, right? Maybe be a translator, like, a phone translator, can wear what you want then. Or if you really like uniforms, a stewardess maybe?"

"I dunno," Natalie sighed.

"Well, whatever happens, I'll stand by you," Greg said with a smirk. "'Cause nobody knows the way it's gonna be, right?"

"Right," The nineteen year old girl replied, smiling as she thought toward the future, and the possibilities it'd bring…

Tyler tried not to squirm as he headed home from school on the chilly January morning, even though he knew what was waiting for him when he got there. It had been no ordinary Tuesday at school- then again, few days were 'ordinary' for the sixteen year old boy.

Tyler had been born on the third of January 1993, the third child of his parents. His oldest brother, Lincoln, had been the envy of everyone at his school- a running back for the successful school football team, who dated and ultimately married the captain of the cheerleading squad. His second oldest brother, Harrison, had been on the school wrestling team and won many competitions- and had also dated and was engaged to the captain of the cheerleading squad from his school year. Both of the boys were lauded by their father as 'real men', successful sportsmen who earned an honest living working for the same truck dealership that he did. Tyler, on the other hand, didn't get that same praise from his father.

Tyler might not have been as tall or as strong as his brothers- though at 5' 10", he stood above average height for his age- and it's not that he wasn't athletic, winning medals for the school's swim team. Where Tyler failed to measure up in his father's eyes was that he wasn't as 'overtly' masculine as his brothers, not asserting himself, not engaging in the outdoor activities his brothers loved like fishing, hunting and shooting and not following the sports they loved like Football or NASCAR.

Whilst Tyler didn't like the ridicule he faced from his father and his brothers, he endured it and kept his feelings bottled up, as he knew that he could never reveal the real reason for his 'different' behaviour- that all his life, he'd longed to be a girl.

Every time Tyler went to swim practice and pulled on his speedo, he would envy the girls in the other locker room, stretching their clingy one-piece suits over their bodies. He'd envy them at the end of practice as they dried their long hair, put their jewellery back on, reapplied their make-up, changed back into the skirts or shorts they wore to the pool... Tyler had on very rare occasions secretly worn some of his mother's dresses, but only for minutes at a time, such was his fear of being discovered even when he knew he was completely alone in the house.

Tyler occasionally wondered what would happen if his family ever found out about his secret, but those thoughts never ended with him being accepted by his family. Occasionally, they ended with him not even being alive anymore. He knew his father would never accept him, nor would his brothers, and his mother would blindly follow along with the other men of the family. However, Tyler held out hope that his younger sister Monroe, who was three years younger than him and very headstrong, would at least offer some sympathy.

However, if Tyler was to get sympathy and acceptance from his family, it would certainly not be on that particular cold Tuesday. This was because the date was the 20th of January 2009, and 630 miles north-east of his hometown, an event had taken place that made many Americans excited- and many others, such as his family, furious.

Earlier that day, Tyler and the rest of his class had watched intently at the events that were taking place on the screen in front of them.

"I, Barack Hussein Obama," the tall, dark-skinned man had said, "do solemnly swear that I will execute the office of president of the United States faithfully, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the United States. So help me God."

Tyler knew he was witnessing history. He suspected that life in America was about to change. But his life would not change for the better.

Even before he reached the front door of his modest family home, Tyler could hear the yelling coming from within.

"...Going to shit!" the angry voice of Tyler's father yelled. "This whole country's going to down the crapper the next four years, you mark my words!" How, exactly? Tyler thought to himself, knowing better than to voice his question, especially when he saw who was sat on the opposite side of the room.

"You said it, son," the gruff voice of Tyler's father's father snarled. "I never thought I'd live to see the day they let someone like THAT into the White House! What next, a queer president? A Mexican president?"

"Don't get yourself too worked up, Bill," Tyler's mother said in a soothing voice as she handed the nearly 80 year old man a glass of whiskey.

"'Worked up'?" Tyler's grandfather spat. "We'll see how 'worked up' you get when that nig-"

"Grandpa," Harrison said nervously, gesturing with his eyes toward the corner of the room where the youngest member of the Cope family was sat with a nervous look on her 12 year old face.

"...It's her I'm most worried about," Tyler's grandfather grumbled as he drank his whiskey and let out a long, angry growl. "You know what these goddamn Muslims are like..."

As the men of the family offered their criticism of their country's new commander-in-chief, Tyler sat back and tried to drown out the noise. It didn't matter to him whether the president was Obama or McCain- from his limited perspective, nothing would change. He would still be trapped in a body that didn't belong to him, he'd still wear the same drab, male jeans and sweaters to school, and he'd still be surrounded by a family that would never accept him even if he was ever able to become the woman he longed to be.

In the months following the inauguration, life in the Cope household slowly returned to normal, as Tyler knew it inevitably would. His father and brothers returned to their work, he and his sister returned to their schoolwork and the goings-on in Washington felt further and further away with every passing day. However, that didn't stop Tyler's life from feeling increasingly stressful, especially as he started to be less of a boy, and more of a man- something his family, particularly his father, was quick to pick up on.

"Put it into drive," Tyler's father said calmly as the nervous teenager gripped the steering wheel with his left hand and tentatively shifted the gear lever with his other. "Stop being so goddamn delicate with it, it's not going to bite you!"

"S- sorry," Tyler replied.

"I get that you're nervous," Tyler's father said. "But you ain't gonna get anywhere in life if you don't know how to drive a car! Now, slowly push down on the gas, just enough to get us moving." Tyler took a deep breath as he pushed down on the accelerator pedal, letting out a gentle yelp as the car slowly moved forward.

"That's it," the older man said encouragingly. "Now, just a little more pressure, so we're not crawling along like a goddamn old woman..." Tyler applied more pressure to the pedal, chuckling as the car increased its speed, and his father nodded approvingly.

"Is this- is it fast enough?" Tyler asked.

"For now," Mr. Cope replied. "No need to go speeding off like some lunatic but you need to learn to drive to the limit, which is 30 miles per hour, not 13. We'll get you up to speed the next couple of lessons, first you just need to get used to handling the car."

"Did it take Lincoln and Harrison long to get the hang of it?" Tyler asked.

"Don't worry about them," Tyler's father advised. "Just learn to drive at your own rate, in your own time."

"O-okay," Tyler replied, though he knew deep down that his father's wish for him to be his own person was not sincere- as was proved when they returned to the driveway and the older man immediately reached over to pop open the hood of the car. Tyler internally groaned- this was a part of the lesson he'd been desperate to avoid.

"Okay," Tyler's father said as he leaned over the engine bay. "This is a bit different from the trucks you'll be working on when you start work at the dealership, but the basic stuff's the same so it's a good place to start." Tyler's heart sank as he exited the car and walked around to where his father was stood. It had been made clear to Tyler from a young age that he would work at the same place his father did when he grew up, just as his brothers had done when they'd left high school. Tyler had tried to protest that he didn't want to be a mechanic on many occasions when he was younger, but he had quickly learned that any such protests were futile- he was going to be a mechanic and that was that, and this was lesson number one.

Forty-five minutes later, it was all Tyler could do not to sprint into the kitchen to wash off the grease, oil and dirt that had accumulated on his hands and underneath his fingernails throughout his 'lesson'. More than anything, Tyler hated being dirty, especially when it came to his hands. His father and brothers had gone through their lives with perpetually grimy hands, both from their work and their outdoor hobbies, and with every speck of dirt that landed on Tyler's hands, he felt himself sliding further and further away from his dreams of being a woman- and closer and closer to the nightmare of being a man just like his brothers.

"Better get used to it now, your hands are gonna get a LOT dirtier than that when you start work!" Tyler's father scoffed as his son plunged his hands into a sink full of hot, soapy water. "So stop acting like a goddamn woman, for Christ's sake!"

"...Sorry, dad," Tyler mumbled, removing his still-dirty hands from the water and heading upstairs to his bedroom, where he let out a long, pained sigh.

As he laid on his bed, trying not to touch anything in his bedroom with his dirty hands, Tyler thought about the girls in his class and how they'd also have started to learn to drive, the only difference being that they wouldn't be expected to learn how to take an engine apart and put it back together, and they could object to getting their hands dirty without worrying about being disowned by their families.

And, most importantly, they could live their lives as women, they could go to school wearing skirts and make-up and daydream about kissing boys, and no one would bat an eyelid. Whereas if Tyler did even a tiny fraction of that...

Several weeks (and several lessons from his father) later, Tyler passed his driving test on his first attempt, and eventually the summer holidays rolled around at the end of June. However, unlike his classmates, who were all eager to make the most of their new-found freedom (and driving licences), Tyler was dreading the summer holidays, and it took a mere three days from the start of the summer break for his fears to be realised.

"Welcome to your new home, son!" Tyler's father said, giving his youngest son a pat on the back as he led him into the loud, busy garage. Tyler forced a smile on his face as he stared down at the loose, drab overalls that were covering his skinny body. If he closed his eyes, he could picture his body being covered by a bikini, or a loose summer dress, or a short, tight skirt and a crop top... But every time he opened his eyes, he was forced back to reality, and he knew that the overalls were just the tip of the iceberg.

"Didn't realise we were hiring sissies now," a familiar voice snorted from the back of the garage, a voice that made Tyler bristle.

"Harrison, don't talk about your brother like that," the boys' father chastised. "Any Cope who picks up a wrench and gets their hands dirty is a man in my eyes, and yours too!" Whether I like it or not, Tyler thought to himself.

"Oh come on, pa," Lincoln moaned as he wiped his hands on an oily rag, before tossing it to his youngest brother and grimacing as Tyler flinched. "...Seriously?"

"You two were just as green your first days," Tyler's father said, taking a deep breath to calm himself- and Tyler was sure that it was he, and not his brothers, that was the source of their father's frustration, just as he'd always been.

Tyler's relationship with his brother's had been much like it was with his father, with one notable difference- Tyler's father took his parental responsibilities seriously, while his brothers felt no sense of responsibility toward the young man whatsoever. For all his young life, Tyler had been mercilessly teased by Lincoln and Harrison, had to endure their endless and often cruel practical jokes, and even suffered the occasional beating at their hands, all under the pretense of 'toughening him up', trying to make him into the 'real men' that they were. Tyler never complained to his parents- his father would simply side with his brothers and encourage the torment, while his mother would defer to her husband, leaving Tyler right back at square one- alongside two tall, muscular men who thought nothing of using him for football or wrestling practice. And as Lincoln's throwing of the rag had shown, Tyler wouldn't even be able to escape from the same treatment in what he'd assumed would be a professional environment.

"What next, we gonna expect Monroe to start here in a few years?" Lincoln snorted.

"No you ain't, and you know why!" The frustrated patriarch snarled. "Now get your brother settled in here, he's gonna be here a long time!" Tyler could tell from the looks on his brother's faces that neither of them were thrilled by the prospect- though their reluctance paled in comparison to the dread that Tyler felt as he entered the workplace's break room.

It was a room he was familiar with from his previous, mercifully brief visits to the dealership with his father and his brothers, and every time he set foot inside the room, it was like he lost a part of his soul.

The first thing Tyler always noticed about the room was the smell- the unmistakable cocktail of engine oil, body odour and tobacco, which felt like acid against Tyler's young skin. Piles of hunting and used car magazines littered the two tables, while the small radio seemed to be perpetually tuned to the local sports station- though that at least drowned out the noise of the other men's conversations, the topics of which rotated between sport, vehicles and their sexual conquests with absolutely no deviation. Tyler braced himself for the inevitable questions about himself, his life and his sports preferences that he would be obliged to (untruthfully) answer, when the unexpected happened- and suddenly, the room didn't seem so bad to the sixteen year old boy.

"Jack!" Lincoln yelled, attracting the attention of a young man who looked no older than eighteen himself. "Get your butt here! This is Tyler, my little 'brother'. He's new here, so he needs someone to show him the ropes, and that ain't gonna be me."

"Hi," Jack said, extending his hand for Tyler to shake and nearly making the young man's knees buckle. Jack was quite unlike the rough, grizzled men that usually inhabited the room- while tall and muscular, he clearly took care with his appearance- his short brown hair was styled rather than the crew cuts or straggly messes of the other employees, his face was clean shaven and he actually appeared to be wearing deodorant, the smell of which filled Tyler's nostrils and made his heart beat faster.

"H- hi," Tyler said nervously, giving the young man a loose handshake that made his older brother snort derisively.

"Jesus, you call that a fuckin' handshake," Lincoln scoffed before heading back out to the work area and leaving the two young men alone in the room, which was quickly filled with an awkward silence.

"So..." Jack said, smirking at Tyler's continued attention. "You- you're the boss's son, then?"

"Yep!" Tyler said, barely suppressing a breathless giggle. "Well, third son, I'm guessing you know Lincoln and Harrison?"

"...Yeah," Jack said with a derisive snort that forced a giggle out of Tyler's mouth. "They like- well, THAT at home too?"

"Ugh, all the time," Tyler dramatically sighed. "Lincoln probably more 'cause he's the oldest, you know. You got any brothers?"

"Nah," Jack replied. "Two little sisters, though, and trust me, they can be almost as bad!"

"Doubt it," Tyler sighed, unconsciously pouting at the young man.

"Well- umm, yeah..." Jack chuckled, trying not to blush at Tyler's pout. "Anyway, I'm- I'm supposed to be showing you round, heh..."

"I'm in no rush," Tyler chuckled. "Dunno if you can tell, but I ain't exactly thrilled to be here."

"I could kinda tell," Jack chuckled. "Pressure from the old man?"

"'Pressure' doesn't even begin to describe it," Tyler snorted. "Pa decided I'd be working here from the day I was born."

"It ain't all bad," Jack shrugged, escorting Tyler toward the door. "And some of the folk here are friendly enough."

"Yeah," Tyler said, biting his lip as he tried to read the signals Jack was giving off- or whether or not he was giving off any signals at all. Tyler knew that as bad as his life was, if he followed his instincts, it could get infinitely worse very quickly. But it wasn't going to get any better if he did nothing at all...

Tyler took a deep breath, leaned into Jack as he went to open the door, and gave him a kiss on his lips. A short, soft, gentle kiss that stunned the older boy into silence.

As Tyler broke the kiss and saw the surprise in Jack's eyes, a million worst case scenarios played in his mind. Jack could assault him for even daring to threaten his masculinity. Or worse, he could tell his brothers, and the beating would get even harsher. Or he could tell his father. Or Jack's father. Or his grandfather. Or the kids at school, ensuring that Tyler took a beating every day for the rest of his time at school. Or every day for the rest of his life...

What Jack did next, however, surprised Tyler almost as much as his kiss had surprised Jack.

Jack kissed Tyler back.

"Oh- uh-" Tyler gasped as Jack broke the kiss, both boys' cheeks having turned a deep shade of red.

"...Yeah, that's another thing about me," Jack said, biting his lip and giggling. "I mean, I saw you, and I didn't want to assume-"

"So you let me do the assuming?" Tyler asked, before giggling himself. "It's okay, ho- honey, hehe!"

"Dad's always on at me to find a girlfriend, god knows what he'd do if he found out," Jack sighed.

"Yeah, I know the feeling there too," Tyler chuckled. "But your secret's safe with me!"

"Same here," Jack said softly. "Though you- you might want to sit down before you go out there, hehe!" Tyler blushed and giggled as he stared down at his overalls, and the telltale bulge in the front- though it was the bulge in Jack's overalls that interested Tyler more.

"Maybe working here won't be SO bad after all..." Tyler mused aloud.

Over the next few weekends, Tyler went into his job with a smile on his face, not because of the work, but because he knew Jack would be there. Every day that Tyler worked at the dealership, he would find a way to be alone with Jack, which always ended in a make-out session. During the sixth weekend they worked together, Tyler and Jack made love for the first time in the staff bathroom. The lovemaking was hurried and lacking in romance, but that didn't matter to Tyler. All that mattered was that he and Jack had expressed their love to each other in the most intimate way possible. And yet, every time the two young men made love, or kissed, or even spent time together, Tyler felt guilty. He had shared his body with Jack, and shared many of his most intimate thoughts, but there was one secret that he didn't dare tell his boyfriend, and as the months wore on, the stress of keeping the secret began to show on Tyler's young face.

"Hey," Jack said as Tyler entered the break room and, after checking to make sure they were alone, greeted the young man with a long kiss on his lips.

"Hey yourself," Tyler replied with a grin, before sighing. "Is it just me, or does this time, you know, in here, get shorter and shorter every week?"

"I know what you mean," Jack sighed. "Sometimes I just wish we could, you know, sit down and talk and not have to worry about anyone walking in on us. We don't even have to be, you know, physical, just having the chance to talk... That'd be a dream."

"You don't know how right you are," Tyler sighed as he gave his boyfriend another gentle kiss. "There's so much I just want to, umm, say to you, so much I've wanted to say for a long time..."

"I know," Jack sighed, making Tyler momentarily panic as he wondered just how Jack would know about his secret- before his rational mind concluded that there was no way Jack could know.

"You don't know," Tyler whispered. "I wish you did, but- but you really, really don't."

"T- Tyler?" Jack asked softly. "What- what are you saying? Is- is there something I should know?"

"I-" Tyler said, before feeling his vocal chords seize. As much as he desperately wanted to tell Jack his secret, his fear overwhelmed him. Secretly being a gay man was one thing. But secretly being a woman? That was something else entirely. As much as Tyler knew Jack liked him, there was no guarantee that the older boy would accept him as 'her'. From Tyler's perspective, Jack thought he had a clandestine boyfriend. What Tyler wanted to say would completely shatter that view.

"Tyler, come on, you know you can tell me anything," Jack said, gently stroking the younger boy's cheek. "Anything. I promise."

"I- I want to be a woman," Tyler mumbled in a voice Jack could barely even hear, let alone understand.

"I- I'm sorry?" Jack asked.

"I said-" Tyler hissed, before frowning and feeling his entire body tense up. "I- I wish I was a girl. I'm sorry..." Tyler felt his heart race as Jack paused to process the information he'd just received.

"...Why are you sorry?" Jack asked with a warm smile on his face.

"Well, because- umm..." Tyler stammered.

"Because...?" Jack asked in a teasing voice. "Did- did you think I'd be offended? Or that I'd, I dunno, kick your ass or something?"

"Something like that," Tyler mumbled.

"Ty, look at me," Jack said, gently taking the younger man's head in his hands. "I'm a gay man in a very, VERY heterosexual world. I know what it's like to not fit in, trust me."

"But- but would you, you know, be a gay guy if I, umm, started being, you know, girly?" Tyler asked.

"Only one way to find out," Jack shrugged.

"Yeah, like THAT's an option," Tyler snorted, before hastily jumping back from his secret boyfriend as the break room door opened and the younger of his two older brothers walked in.

"...You ever gonna do any damned work here?" Harrison snorted as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, before leaving the two teenagers in peace.

"Okay, point taken," Jack sighed. "But- but there's got to be something you can do, right?"

"I wish," Tyler sighed. "I really, really do. I told you I'm on the school swim team, right?"

"Yeah," Jack replied.

"I get to wear my speedos to the pool, the girls get to wear their skin-tight one-pieces," Tyler explained. "And I hate it. All of it."

"So quit the team, then," Jack shrugged, chuckling as Tyler gave him a playful shove.

"That ain't gonna solve the REAL problem," Tyler sighed. "But it's okay, I guess."

"If you say so," Jack said softly. "But you never know, I mean, it's Christmas in a few weeks, your birthday a few days after... Figure you're due a Christmas miracle, right?"

"I stopped believing in Santa a long time ago," Tyler sighed as he and Jack left the break room and headed to work.

On Christmas Day 2009, Tyler opened his presents and found them to be nearly identical to the presents he had received in 2008. He received clothes- boys’ clothes, naturally- hunting and fishing books, auto repair manuals and Atlanta Falcons memorabilia. The following day, Tyler went into work, where, as always, he greeted Jack with a discreet kiss in the hope that it would help him out of his funk. However, it wasn't just Jack's kiss that awaited him on that particular Saturday.

"Looks like Santa might be real after all," Jack said as he handed Tyler a brightly-coloured package that Tyler could instantly tell contained an item of clothing.

"This had better not be a Braves jersey," Tyler joked.

"All I'll say," Jack teased, "is that you might want to open that at home, when you're alone."

Tyler did as he was told by his boyfriend, and later that night, opened the gift and almost wept at what was inside. There, in his hands, was a brand-new, plain blue one-piece swimsuit, identical to the ones worn by the girls on his swim team. It wasn't long before Tyler was living his dream and relishing the sensation of the clingy fabric as he stretched it over his slender frame- an action he would repeat many times over the next few months.

Jack's gift helped to bring the secret couple even closer together throughout the first half of 2010, and as winter slowly changed into spring and eventually summer once again, Tyler found himself actually looking forward to the end of his junior year of high school so that he could spend more time at his father's dealership. He still hated the work, of course, as well as the atmosphere (both metaphorical and literal) within the place, and all of his co-workers too- all but one, who made the whole experience not just bearable but almost enjoyable.

It was on a warm Saturday at the end of July, however, when all that would change.

"Hey you," Jack said as Tyler entered the break room and, after checking to confirm they were alone, gave the young man a gentle kiss. "Didn't think I'd see you this weekend, thought you and your family were off on vacation?"

"Ugh, we're heading out Monday," Tyler sighed.

"...And I take it you're not exactly thrilled by the idea?" Jack asked with a smirk.

"Heading to Orlando again for what must be the fifteenth year in a row," Tyler snorted. "They just opened the Harry Potter thing at Universal Studios and my sister's a big fan, so she asked to go there."

"...Could be cool, I guess?" Jack shrugged. "Never read the books but I've seen the first couple of films."

"Hmm," Tyler replied. "'Cept my dad calls Harry Potter 'gay and British', then corrects himself and says 'they're both the same thing', so we're going to Disney World again."

"Meh, nothing wrong with Disney, I guess," Jack shrugged.

"I guess," Tyler sighed. "'Cept we're sat next to the busiest airport in the whole world, and we only ever go to Florida. I want to see the world, you know? Hell, if everyone IS gay in England, I'll buy a one-way ticket when I can, heh."

"Think your dad might be exaggerating a little there," Jack giggled. "Though I get what you mean about travelling. I've made it my life's goal to visit all 50 states, plus Puerto Rico and Guam, before I'm 30."

"How far have you got?" Tyler asked.

"Umm... Four," Jack replied with a giggle. "And yes, before you ask, the other three are South Caroline, Alabama and Florida."

"Gotta start somewhere," Tyler shrugged.

"How 'bout you?" Jack asked. "Where'd you REALLY like to go? Other than 'gay England', anyway?" Tyler bit his lip as he thought long and hard about his answer.

"...Anywhere where I can be the person I feel like I truly am, deep down inside," the seventeen year old boy replied. "Anywhere I can be a woman and not face ridicule or anger from other people just because I can't be what others say I must be."

"Think you might be waiting a while for that place to be real," Jack sighed. "Anywhere in the meantime?"

"Eh, Paris, I guess," Tyler shrugged.

"The most romantic city in the world?" Jack asked, grinning as his boyfriend giggled in reply. "Maybe we'll go together one day."

"I'd love that," Tyler whispered.

"Hell," Jack shrugged. "Maybe you can blow this place off, get a job as a stewardess and get paid to fly back and forth to Paris!"

"I'd love that even more," Tyler giggled, leaning in to give Jack, a long, intimate kiss- so long and so intimate that both boys failed to notice the break room door opening.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Harrison yelled, his face quickly turning red at the sight of the two young men's embrace. "Dad! Lincoln! Get in here!" Tyler felt himself freeze to the spot as his older brother approached, looming over him like an angry bear. Before he had time to react, he felt a ball of pain explode in his abdomen as his brother's fist hit home, sending him crashing to the floor as Harrison turned his attention to Jack, effortlessly pinning the young man to the wall with his strong arms.

"What's all the goddamned yelling about?" Tyler's father snapped as he and his eldest son entered the break room. "...The fuck is this?"

"I came in here and found these two little faggots kissing each other, that's what!" Harrison snarled.

"What?" Mr. Cope snapped, before turning to his youngest son. "Is this true?" Tyler felt all resistance drain from his body as his father fixed him with the same angry stare he'd used all throughout his childhood. All Tyler could do was meekly nod, close his eyes and await the inevitable.

"I should've known," Lincoln spat. "What do we do with this one, pa?" Tyler shivered as his father and brothers' anger turned toward his no longer secret boyfriend.

"Consider yourself fired, you little queer," Mr. Cope spat in Jack's face. "I don't ever want to see you in this- no, scratch that, I don't ever want to see you in this TOWN again. Boys, take him outside and let him know why it'd be REAL bad idea to come back here."

"With pleasure," Harrison growled as he and Lincoln frog marched Jack out of the room and out of Tyler's life.

"As for you, you little fag," Tyler's father growled at his youngest son, who was still curled up in the foetal position on the floor. "Pick your ass up. We're going home. And if you want to still have a home to go to, you need to think real long and hard about what just happened!"

The next few hours passed in a blur for Tyler. One by one, his family members returned to the house, first his brothers, whose bloodstained knuckles made Tyler feel physically sick, then his sister, his grandfather and even aunts and uncles that Tyler hadn't seen in years showed up to pass judgement on him. Tyler's father and grandfather would punctuate their anger with sharp whacks from the latter's cane, punishment that only intensified when Tyler's brothers ransacked his bedroom and discovered his Christmas gift from Jack.

Tyler's punishment only ended when the family all went to bed, though Tyler was unable to get even a second of sleep that night as every worst case scenario played in his mind. He wondered whether or not he'd be able to return to school after the summer break, or whether or not he'd have a family, or a home- or even if he'd be alive after the summer...

Eventually, the morning sun poked through Tyler's curtains, and before it rose high in the sky, his father entered the room uninvited and pulled the covers off of the young man's bed.

"Get up," the older man said in a gruff voice that barely concealed his anger. "Get dressed. We're going to church."

"I- umm, I don't feel like-" Tyler feebly whimpered.

"After the embarrassment you caused me yesterday, do you think I give a SHIT what you feel like?" The young man's father hissed, his face mere inches from his son's. Tyler simply shook his head in response, and minutes later, the family, all dressed in their best clothes, drove in silence to their local Baptist church.

All throughout the service, the family neither spoke about or even hinted at the events of the previous day, and when the congregation was dismissed, Tyler felt a sense of relief, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could return home and get on with his life like nothing had happened. However, when he went to stand up and leave, he was roughly shoved back into his seat by his father, the older man's angry stare telling him in no uncertain terms that he was to remain seated until told otherwise.

"Pastor?" Tyler's father called after the priest as he began to head back to his office. "Can we speak with you please? I private?"

"Of course," the minister replied. A gesture from Tyler's father quickly brought the young man to his feet, and seconds later he was sat in front of the man of god trying not to shrink into his chair as his father filled him in on the events of the previous day.

"I see," the pastor said, leaning back in his chair as he processed the information. "Tyler, is what your father says true?"

"...Yes," Tyler meekly mumbled in reply.

"Is- isn't there something we can do about this?" Tyler's father asked. "I figured you'd be the best person to ask, please- please tell me we're not the first family to have had this problem?"

"Well, as I'm sure you're aware, it isn't illegal to be gay, or to dress up in women's clothing," the pastor said, momentarily lifting Tyler's spirits as he hoped that maybe, just maybe, the minister would take his side.

"But what about, you know, the big guy?" Tyler's father asked. "Your boss?"

"Well, Tyler has to find his own relationship with the lord," the pastor said, before his facial expression darkened, sending the young man sinking back into his chair. "But the bible is very clear about homosexuality AND pretending to be a woman when you're not. However, this isn't a situation that can't be fixed. You asked me earlier if you were the first family that this has happened to. Let me reassure you that you're not, and there is a place I know that can help Tyler with his problem."

"What, you mean, cure him of being g- g-" Tyler's father said, stammering as he tried and failed to say the final word of his sentence.

"It has had countless successes in the past," the pastor said with a reassuring smile. "I'm confident that if Tyler listens to the counsellors there and does as he's told, he'll be another one."

"Well- well how soon can he go?" Tyler's father asked as his son's mind began to spin, terrified at the prospect of heading to an unfamiliar place where he could all but guarantee that everyone there would be judging him.

"I can give them a call, see if there are any free spaces today?" The pastor asked, causing Tyler to start to hyperventilate. Sensing his son's distress, Tyler's father turned to him, making no effort to disguise the fury in his eyes.

"If you ever want to come back home," Mr. Cope hissed, "you WILL go to this place, you WILL thank the pastor for trying to help you and you WILL be straight when you leave there. Am I clear?" Tyler meekly nodded as the pastor took his cellphone from his pocket and began speaking into it.

Later that afternoon, after briefly stopping at home to pack a bag with clean clothes and underwear, Tyler tried not to fidget on the back seat of his father's car as he was driven to a small complex in the outskirts of Atlanta. Tyler remained silent as he and his father walked up to the front door, where they were met by a thin, well-dressed man in his early thirties.

"Ah, you must be Tyler," the young man said. "My name's Graham Williams, I'm the manager of this facility. Please, come on in."

"Thank you," Tyler's father replied in a gruff voice. "Will you be able to cure Tyler of this- this thing?"

"That is what we do here," Graham replied in a calm, comforting voice. "And we have a very high success rate. In fact, just last month I was invited to the wedding of a boy who came here a few years ago, who wasn't much older than Tyler is now."

"So how long will it take before Tyler's- well, normal?" Mr. Cope asked.

"That depends on Tyler," Graham replied, making the young man shiver. "All I can say is it'll take as long as it takes, but we will do everything we can to help Tyler get back on the right path."

"Well it'd better not take too long, given how much I'm paying for this," Mr. Cope growled as he placed Tyler's bags into the room that had been reserved for him.

"I have your contact details," Graham said as he shook the older man's hand. "Feel free to call any time you need an update, our opening hours are in the brochure."

"Oh don't worry, you'll be hearing from me soon," Tyler's father said, glaring at his son before leaving without even saying goodbye to the young boy. Tyler shivered again as Graham closed the door, before sitting down on the room's plain single bed and gesturing to Tyler to join him.

"Umm... Hello," Tyler said nervously as he sat down next to the older man.

"Hello, Tyler," Graham replied with a smile. "I know this must be scary for you, but trust me when I say we- by which I mean both the staff here and your family- only have your best interests in mind."

"O- okay," Tyler replied.

"First, I think it's fair that you know a little bit about me, before I know a bit more about you," Graham said. "I'm 36 years old, and for the last 12 years I've been helping confused young men and boys like you. For the 24 years before that... I was as confused as you are right now."

"You- you mean you were-" Tyler asked.

"I am ashamed to say that yes, I had some incorrect thoughts during my early years," Graham said quietly. "But that is a part of my past, where it belongs. Now, I only want to help people, people like you, Tyler."

"O- okay," Tyler stammered as Graham fixed Tyler with a kind, almost loving gaze.

"I can see you're still nervous," Graham said in a soft, soothing voice. "That's okay, it really is. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself? Take your time, I don't need to be anywhere else right now."

"Well, umm," Tyler mumbled. "I'm, umm, seventeen, I- I've, umm, been in love with a boy for the last year-"

"Ah," Graham interrupted gently. "I just need to correct you on how you said that, when you said you were 'in love'. Tell me, have you ever been in love before?"

"Umm, well- no..." Tyler was forced to admit.

"I thought not, but that's okay," Graham said, before smiling again. "I know, you probably think what you felt for this boy was 'love', like you've seen on TV or in movies, but answer me this question- in all those TV shows and movies, were any of those characters ever 'in love' with someone the same sex as them?" Tyler racked his brain, desperate for an example, but could only think of one.

"...Brokeback Mountain?" Tyler replied.

"Have you ever seen the film?" Graham asked, smiling as Tyler shook his head. "That's okay, you're not the first boy to come in here and try to use that as an example. Well, let me just say that that film doesn't end well for the two guys. Unless you count 'died young', 'divorced and estranged from family' or 'addicted to Mexican male prostitutes' a happy ending, 'cause I sure don't."

"...Oh," Tyler replied.

"Can you think of any same sex couples whose story ended happily?" Graham asked.

"...No," Tyler was again forced to admit.

"And there's a reason for that," Graham said. "Gays can't get married. Without marriage, the union can't be recognised by God, and without God, there isn't really any 'love'."

"Umm, okay," Tyler replied.

"I can see you're not convinced," Graham said with a chuckle. "But that's okay. Like I said to your father, you won't be cured overnight. But you WILL be cured, Tyler. I promise." Tyler bit his lip and nodded, before grimacing at the knowledge of how angry his father would be if he didn't mention the other reason for his stay at the facility.

"There's, umm, something else," Tyler mumbled. "I- I like, umm, wearing women's clothing..." Tyler felt his whole body start to tremble as Graham nodded silently, carefully considering his response.

"Okay," Graham replied. "How long have you had these feelings?"

"As long as I can remember," Tyler replied. "I- I get jealous of the other girls, I want to be like them-"

"Okay, just need to interrupt you again," Graham said softly. "When you said 'other' girls. Do you see any girls in the room with us?"

"Well- no..." Tyler mumbled.

"That was the right answer," Graham said with a smile. "I mean, sure, you can wear a dress, or even have surgery to make you look like a girl on the outside, but a boy is what God made you, and you can't change what you are on the inside. Have you done genetics in high school biology?"

"Umm, a little," Tyler replied. "I- I know the difference between, you know, XX and XY..."

"And that can't be changed by any medicine or surgery," Graham said. "Have you ever seen a film called 'Boys Don't Cry’, which was released about ten years ago?" Graham waited for Tyler to shake his head before continuing. "That film was actually about a girl who thought she was a boy, but it still applies to your situation. She started a relationship with another girl, and when the rest of the town found out, she- the girl who thought she was a boy- was beaten to death by them."

"Oh my god," Tyler whispered.

"I know, right?" Graham said. "And the worst thing is, that film was based on a real life story. A story that's repeated far, far too often. I personally think that violence is never the answer, I say only God should be allowed to pass judgement, but the fact is that people who think they're the opposite sex and try to act like it more often than not face violence like that. Do you want to face violence like that, Tyler?"

"No," Tyler said, shaking his head as fear began to grip his body.

"I don't want that for you either," Graham said. "I want you to lead a happy, successful life. I want to be loved by your friends and family, and to have a family of your own that you love just as much. But that isn't going to happen unless you make some changes." Graham paused as his iPad beeped to inform him of a new message. "I think they're ready for us downstairs. Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."

"Umm, okay," Tyler said, his knees quivering as he stood up to follow the older man.

Graham led Tyler downstairs to a large meeting room in which around a dozen boys were sat, all of whom appeared to be the same age as Tyler. What alarmed the young man the most, though, was the coffin that had been placed at the front of the room- and the fact that his photograph had been placed beside it.

"Boys, I'd like you all to meet Tyler," Graham announced as he sat Tyler down in front of the coffin, facing the stares of the young men.

"Hello, Tyler," the teenagers said in a monotone that unnerved the newcomer.

"Tyler was born in January 1993," Graham announced. "But sadly passed away in early 2015 after years of living on the streets and fighting addiction." Tyler felt his whole body tense up as the young men all regarded him with judgemental stares. "I wish I could say that he has been passed into God's tender care, but the truth is, he rejected God and his teachings, and as such now faces eternal damnation, all because he made one wrong choice- he chose to be attracted to boys instead of girls." Tyler closed his eyes and tried not to show any emotion as the older man continued his 'eulogy'.

"Tyler was born into a loving family," Graham said. "A loving mother and father, two older brothers who looked out for him and a younger sister who looked up to him. But at the age of sixteen, when boys should be focussing on school, or working up the courage to ask a girl to the prom, Tyler instead chose to be attracted to a young boy who worked with him. They concealed their relationship, which was the beginning of the end for Tyler. After the relationship inevitably ended, Tyler began seeking sexual encounters with any other gay men he could find, and soon became infected with HIV, gonorrhoea and many other sexually transmitted diseases. These men also introduced him to illegal drugs, his addiction to which caused him to lose his job, his home and his family, and at the far, far too young age of 22, his life. His rejection of his family, his rejection of God cost him his life and his soul." Tyler opened his eyes as Graham finished speaking, before tensing up again as the older man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, none of this needs to happen," Graham said, flashing a reassuring smile at Tyler. "We are here to help Tyler turn back to God, back to his family and away from the life he has chosen, aren't we, boys?"

"Yes we are," the young men replied as one.

"So together, we will pledge to help Tyler," Graham announced. "Now as this is his first day here, he won't know the words to the pledge, so together, we will help him take this first step. Ready?" The boys all nodded, waiting for Graham's lead.

"I pledge to turn away from evil, and toward God," Graham and the boys said as one, before staring at Tyler expectantly. Tyler felt himself squirm as prepared to repeat the words that had been said to him, before a memory suddenly flashed into his mind- a memory of a Saturday that he'd spent working with Jack, when they'd been able to talk freely.

"There ain't nothing wrong with who or what we are, Tyler," Jack had said firmly. "Don't ever let anyone tell you any different, even if a million, a billion people say you're wrong, you promise me you'll always remember that you ain't wrong for being who you are, right?"

"...Right," Tyler replied. "I- I promise."

Back in the present day, Tyler tried to draw strength from his promise to his boyfriend, but his resolve began to falter. He could ignore what a billion strangers would say, but if even one of those billion strangers was his father, or his mother, or one of his sisters, it was another story. Tyler began to wonder whether or not he shouldn’t just capitulate, surrender to Graham's teaching.

His life would be easier in the long-term if he did- sure, it'd take his family a long time to trust him again, but they'd eventually come around, and he was sure he could learn to be attracted to women, to give up on his dream of ever living as a woman, or seeing the world, or travelling to Paris, or doing anything with his life other than being a grease monkey...

"Promise me you'll always remember that you ain't wrong for being who you are," Jack's voice repeated in Tyler's mind. "Promise me you'll always remember. Promise me. Promise me." Tyler opened his eyes and looked into the faces of the expectant young men in front of him.

"I promise," Tyler began, "to turn away from evil, and toward God." Tyler took a deep breath, before mentally adding the word 'suckers' to the end of his sentence.

"...Close enough," Graham said, before leading the teenagers in the next line of the pledge. "I pledge that I will dedicate my time to getting better, and that I will help others along the path back to God." Tyler dutifully repeated the line, though with just as little sincerity as the first sentence.

For the next three weeks, Tyler performed the tasks he was assigned to help him 'recover', though before every task, he remembered the promise he'd made to Jack. Even as he was forced to repeat prayers dozens of times in a row, as he was coerced into watching images of scantily-clad women, he remembered his promise. Even when he was fed food laced with ipecac and forced to vomit when showed a photograph of Jack, he remembered his promise.

Tyler's promise even helped him to fool a polygraph test he was made to take before he could leave the complex, and mere hours afterward, he was being driven to the family home in the back of his father's car.

"I hope my money hasn't gone to waste on this place?" Tyler's father asked as he drove his son back to their home. "If you ain't anything other than 100% straight now, I'm turnin' this car round and-"

"I am fully cured," Tyler lied with a cold, confident smile. "Graham's set up weekly sessions for me on Skype, just to check in on me."

"Good," Tyler's father said, before sighing. "It- it'll be good to have you back home, Tyler. Graham said it's important that you know that. I want all three of my sons under my roof again." And no mention of your daughter, Tyler thought to himself, mentally repeating his promise to Jack as his father continued talking. "Hell, now that you're cured, maybe you'll find a girlfriend before the summer's out?"

"Maybe," Tyler replied with a chuckle that disguised his determination to follow through with his promise to Jack.

"And don't worry about Jack," the young man's father said. "You'll never, EVER see him again." We'll see, Tyler thought to himself as he headed back home.

Over the following months, Tyler played the part of the dutiful son, graduating from high school and going to work full-time for his father's dealership. He kept up his Skype appointments with Graham, but as they grew less and less frequent, he tried his hardest to block the memory of his time at the complex from his mind, convincing himself that it was just a bad dream. He dated girls, but never entered into any serious relationships and certainly never had sex with any girls. He saved up his money, and in the autumn of 2014, without any warning, he bought a one-way ticket to Paris to attend a job interview he'd secured for himself after his final meeting with Jack had become stuck in his mind, and after he'd read an article on the internet about an airline who had been forced to employ transgendered stewardesses by EU regulations. Emboldened by his promise to Jack, Tyler made the announcement to his family in the minutes before his taxi arrived to take him to the airport, knowing full well that he would need a quick exit.

"If you do this," Tyler's father hissed angrily while his mother said a silent prayer, "you will never, NEVER be welcome in this house again!"

"That's fine with me," Tyler spat back. "Because I never was in the first place." Without looking back, Tyler took his bags out to the waiting taxi, and before long, he was on a plane heading eastward to his new life in Europe. First, though, he had to deal with the small matter of his interview.

"Your qualifications are certainly adequate, Monsieur Cope," the interviewer, an older man named Robert Marotte, said in his refined Parisian accent. "But we have many applicants to be a stewardess with Soixante-Trois Airlines. What can you bring that they cannot?" Tyler took a deep breath before answering, his promise to Jack still fresh in his mind over four years after it was made.

"I'm from the south," Tyler explained. "And if there's one thing we know about, it's hospitality. Ain't nowhere in the world more friendly." Or at least, that's the way it should be, Tyler thought sadly to himself. "I'm guessing you don't have many stewardesses from the south working for you?"

"We had an American girl in our last intake in August," M Marotte explained. "I think she was from the south, a city called Baltimore, I believe?" Despite himself, Tyler was forced to let out a quiet chuckle.

"Trust me, Baltimore ain't the south," Tyler replied.

"Well, 'southern belle' or not, I'm sure the two of you will become friends," M Marotte said as he extended a hand for Tyler to shake, a hand Tyler graciously accepted. "I would like to formally extend an offer of employment with Soixante-Trois Airlines, monsieur- or should I say, mademoiselle Cope. Though that does raise one final question- what name shall I put on your contract of employment?" Tyler bit his lip, before smiling at the 'southern belle' comment the interviewer had said.

"Call me Annabelle, honey," the new hire said with a confident smile as she remembered her promise to Jack- and swore that she would do everything within her power to become the woman she always dreamed of being.

"Happy birthday dear Robbie..." The modest crowd cheered as the blond-haired boy cringed. "Happy birthday to you!" Robbie grinned widely as he leaned down and blew out the sixteen candles on his plain chocolate cake, before grimacing as he braced himself for the inevitable.

Robbie had always had mixed feelings about his birthday being at the start of August. On the one hand, it meant he was younger than virtually everyone in her school year, but on the other hand, it also meant that his birthday was guaranteed to fall in the school holidays. But on the other hand again, it also meant that he was never alone on his birthday, even when he wanted to be...

"Happy birthday then, you little shit!" Robbie's brother Jack, 6 and a half years his senior, said teasingly as he gave Robbie a tight hug, which tightened each time the teenager protested.

"Sixteen at last!" Danny, another of Robbie's brothers, this time eight years his senior, teased. "Finally gonna get your leg over then?"

"Don't be so thick," Shaun, Robbie's oldest brother at over 10 years his senior, scoffed. "Rob's already shagged loads of girls, haven't you Rob?"

"Boys!" The for young men's mother scolded, making the three older boys laugh and roll their eyes while their younger brother blushed. "Robbie will get a girlfriend when he's good and ready. Besides, he's starting sixth form in a month's time, there'll be plenty of time to get a girlfriend then, won't there?"

"Yeah," Robbie nervously chuckled, even though deep down, he was hiding a secret that he would never dare reveal, not to his brothers and especially not to his mother.

For as long as he could remember, Robbie had liked girls, but not in the same way as his brothers. While they were obsessed with getting with every girl they saw, Robbie was obsessed with trying to be every girl he saw. At school, he would fantasise about wearing the short grey skirts and black tights preferred by the girls in his class. When out shopping, he would fantasise about wearing the thick make-up, fake tan and fancy jewellery favoured by the older teenaged girls he saw. And he always, always wished he could grow his hair longer than the short, fashionable cut forced upon him by his mother. And yet, as much as he ached to be able to be a girl, even if it was for only one day, Robbie knew that such wishes were in vain. His mother wouldn't understand, and his brothers would never, ever accept him as their sister instead of their brother.

There were even days, though, when Robbie worried that his brothers wouldn't even accept him as that. For all his life, his brothers had been a team, while he had been the outsider in the family. This feeling was only amplified by the fact that Shaun, Danny and Jack were full brothers to each other, but only half-brothers to him. Their mother had met their father in the early eighties, married and had three boys, only to separate at the end of that decade. In 1992, their mother met another man, married him the following year and gave birth to Robbie two years later. However, by the turn of the millennium, she had separated once again, leaving Robbie to be raised alone by his mother-- and by three older brothers who he believed saw him as a constant reminder of why their father isn't in their life as much as they'd like. Robbie barely saw his father either- he certainly wasn't at his sixteenth birthday party, having only sent along a card with a twenty pound note inside, though from what Robbie inferred from stories told by his brothers, he was lucky to even get that. His mother and brothers had been far more generous, though- Robbie received over £200 in cash from the four of them combined, as well as tickets to the Community Shield match at Wembley that Sunday, a pile of DVDs and clothes, lots of clothes. Clothes that included new designer shirts, a pair of fashionable jeans, three new t-shirts, a pair of smart black shoes and absolutely nothing any teenaged girl would ever even dream of wearing.

"Thank you," Robbie forced himself to say as it dawned on him that for the sixteenth year in a row, he was facing the prospect of hiding the girl he truly was inside. "Thank you all so much for this, this has been the best birthday yet!" Because there isn't much competition, Robbie self-pityingly thought to himself.

"So what d'you reckon for Sunday, then?" Jack asked. "How much are United going to beat Man Shitty by, then?"

"Oh, at least 2 goals, probably 3," Robbie replied with a genuine smile- one of the few things he and his brothers could agree on was that Manchester United were indisputably the best football team in England. It was just a pity for Robbie that they could rarely agree on anything else...

That Sunday, Robbie and his brothers travelled to Wembley stadium, where after a long, tense game, their beloved United ran out 3-2 winners over their local rivals. After the match, the four brothers headed to a nearby bar, where the sixteen-year-old boy listened intently to his brothers' dissection of the game, nodding in agreement when he was expected to and laughing at the unflattering descriptions of the opposition's players. However, as hard as he tried- and he did genuinely try his hardest, both for his brothers' sake and his own- he was simply unable to enjoy the day out, instead fixating on what could have been had he been born a girl. 'She' would've been out shopping with 'her' girlfriends, or going to a beauty salon for a makeover, or on a romantic date with 'her' boyfriend...

Robbie consoled himself with the knowledge that he would soon be heading back to his home, which his brothers had all moved out of years earlier. The following day, Robbie's mother would be at work, meaning he would be home alone, which meant he could do the one thing that always eased his stress- trying on his mother's clothes.

It was something Robbie did rarely, never more than once a month at the most, and he never wore anything that would 'give the game away' such as underwear or make-up, but the mere act of pulling on one of his mother's skirts made Robbie feel stronger in a way even he couldn't explain, as though it was his destiny to wear the skirt. And every time the time came for him to remove the skirt, he suddenly felt like he was 3 inches tall. But for that one brief moment, Robbie could forget all his troubles and not just pretend, but believe that he didn't have to be a son or a brother.

However, when Robbie returned home, he discovered that even that simple pleasure was going to be denied to him.

"Hi Robbie!" The sixteen-year-old boy's mother said with a grin as he walked through the front door. "Good match?"

"Umm, yeah," Robbie replied. "United won 3-2, that was the most important thing."

"Heh," Robbie's mother chuckled. "Did you enjoy your drink at the pub with your brothers after?" The middle-aged woman smiled sympathetically and gave her son a hug as the young boy remained silent, his defeated body language telling her all she needed to know. "It's okay, I know how hard that is for you." You don't know the half of it, Robbie thought to himself. "Sometimes I just wish they'd leave you alone and let you be the person you REALLY want to be." You REALLLY don't know the half of it, Robbie thought to himself with a self-pitying sigh. Though at least, Robbie thought to himself, there was something that could be done about that.

"What- what time are you heading out to work tomorrow?" Robbie asked.

"I'm not," the young man's mother replied with a smug smile that didn't falter as his whole body slumped. "Got the whole of next week off. And the week after that, too!"

"Wh- why?" Robbie asked, trying desperately to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"One last birthday present," Robbie's mother said with a smile. "Me, and you, and two weeks... In Paris!"

"P- Paris!?" Robbie asked disbelievingly.

"Paris!" Robbie's mother giggled. "I thought, well, you worked so hard on your GCSEs, you deserved a break from everything. Especially your brothers, heh!" Okay, can't argue with THAT, Robbie thought to himself. "So, we're going off to France for two weeks, figured we'd see the sights, the Eiffel Tower, maybe Disneyland... Oh, come on, you've always said you wanted to see Paris, didn't you? And it'll give you a good head start on your French A Level, won't it?"

"Well- yes," Robbie replied, even though all he could think about was how two weeks in France was two weeks in which he'd never get to express his feminine side, not even for a second. "We going by plane or train?"

"Train," Robbie's mother replied. "Got to be at St Pancras by 12:30pm tomorrow. And don't worry, I've already packed two suitcases for you. All you need to do is relax and enjoy the holiday. And I have a feeling it might just be the best holiday you ever have!" Fat chance of that, Robbie thought to himself as he forced a smile on his face and headed up to his bedroom, sighing at the sight of the two large suitcases parked outside it. Robbie let out a tired sigh as he entered the room and crashed down on his bed, grabbing his laptop in the hope that it'd take his mind off of his malaise.

While occasionally wearing his mother's clothes offered a great deal of relief for Robbie, it wasn't a solution he could call on on a day to day basis- it needed careful planning, care when putting everything back to ensure it was exactly as it had been left, and most importantly, it needed his mother to be out of the house when it happened. The internet, however, was a solution that Robbie could access whenever he needed it, and after his return from Wembley, he needed it more than ever.

Of course, his mother's parental controls meant that 'adult' websites were blocked to him, but Robbie had long since learned to make the most of what was available to him, particularly from his favourite website- eBay.

Robbie opened up the auction website on his laptop and immediately started browsing the women's fashion pages, imagining his young body sliding into the many skirts on dresses that were on sale, before browsing to the lingerie pages and fantasising about clipping one of the bras on sale behind his back, or relishing the feeling of one of the skimpy thongs sliding between his buttocks or the feeling of rolling a soft pair of tights up his legs. Within minutes, though, Robbie had browsed to his favourite part of eBay- the costumes listings. Robbie gazed over pages of French Maid costumes, Hooters uniforms, Showgirl costumes and his favourite of all- Playboy Bunny costumes. He swore to himself that when he was older, and earning his own money, he would somehow buy every costume he found on the site. Even if he only wore each costume once each, merely owning them and having the ability to wear them whenever he wanted would make his life infinitely more bearable.

The following morning, Robbie woke early and dragged both of his suitcases out to the waiting taxi, and after a short train ride to London, he and his mother were on the much longer train ride to Paris. As Robbie gazed out of the window at the Kent countryside, all he could think about was how each mile away from home was another mile away from being the girl he wanted to be. As the train emerged from the French side of the Channel Tunnel, Robbie told himself that there was no sense in sulking, that he had always wanted to visit Paris and the two weeks may well turn out to be the best holiday he'd ever had. However, as he quickly reminded himself, there was only one thing that would make the holiday the best ever- and that simply wasn't going to happen.

"Here we are!" Robbie's mother said with a smile as she and her son dragged their cases into the modest twin room that would be their home for the next twelve days. "Sorry I couldn't get up separate rooms, but I did have to save money somewhere, heh!"

"It- it's great," Robbie mumbled in reply. "Really, you've gone to a lot of trouble, I- thank you. Really, this-- this is great." Robbie smiled confusedly as a knowing look spread across his mother's face.

"Why don't you get unpacked," Robbie's mother said. Nodding and trying to suppress a sigh, Robbie dumped one of his suitcases on the bed, though when he opened it, his facial expression immediately changed to one of confusion.

"Umm... Mum?" Robbie said as he gazed at the suitcase's contents.

"Yes...?" Robbie's mother replied with a smug grin.

"I think- I think you may have packed the wrong case..." Robbie mumbled as his mother stood next to him and looked into the suitcase.

"Are you sure?" Robbie's mother asked as she reached into the suitcase and pulled out a floaty, light blue summer dress. "Are you really, really sure?"

"M-mum?" Robbie asked.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Robbie's mother asked.

"Notice?" Robbie asked, his voice increasing in pitch with every word he said.

"Sometimes, when I came home," Robbie's mother explained, "I'd head up to my bedroom to get changed and I'd notice that a few things were 'off'. A dress wouldn't be hung the way I'd hung it, or one of my skirts would be creased. I didn't think anything of it at first, then I noticed that every time it happened, it was a time when you'd be left at home alone." the sixteen year old boy felt tears form in his eyes as his face started to burn with embarrassment.

"I- I'm sorry..." Robbie meekly mumbled.

"No- no, god," Robbie's mother sighed, wrapping the reluctant teenager in a tight hug. "I- I just- heh. I dunno. That's why I brought that suitcase, I- I figured that I could, you know, surprise you, and if I was wrong, the other suitcase has all your 'boy clothes' in it, so no harm done..."

"So- so you're not angry?" Robbie asked hopefully.

"Why would I be angry?" The young man's mother replied. "Okay, maybe you did wear my clothes without permission, but you had to have a reason, I mean, you didn't- I mean, you did it because you... You always wanted to be a girl, right?" Robbie gulped before answering. This was a make or break moment, he could either deny his mother's suspicions, dismiss them as misguided and spend the holiday in his boring boy clothes, or he could confirm them, and finally get to present HERself to her mother the way SHE always wanted to- and from what the older woman was saying, Robbie inferred that the clothes weren't just for the holiday, if he so wished.

"...Yes," Robbie whispered, tears flowing freely from his eyes as his mother hugged him again.

"Oh god, Robbie," the young man's mother sighed. "You know, you COULD have told me this earlier..."

"I didn't know what you'd say," Robbie mumbled.

"I'd have said 'I'm lucky to have such a great daughter'," Robbie's mother replied. "But- but I get what you're saying. You did a very, very brave thing telling me. And if you don't want to wear any of the clothes in this suitcase on your holiday, then that's fine, but they'll always be there when you get home, if you need them. And if you're worrying about your brothers, don't. You have to live your life the way YOU want. You're not there to be bossed around by them. If they say anything, I'll back you up. Always."

"Th- thanks," Robbie sniffled, before steeling himself. "And- and I want- I want to wear the clothes in this suitcase on this holiday."

"I thought you might," Robbie's mother said with a proud smile. "So go ahead, pick out an outfit!" Robbie grinned as he went through the suitcase's contents, pulling out several dresses, skirts and tops, as well as girl's underwear and even a one-piece swimsuit in his size. At the bottom of the suitcase was a small carrier bag, the contents of which he immediately recognised.

"I- I've never worn make-up before," Robbie stammered as he picked through the tubes of mascara and lipstick that were in the bag.

"Okay," Robbie's mother said. "I didn't know for sure, but that's okay, anything you want to know, I'm happy to teach you. Heh, I'd always hoped one day that I'd get to teach my daughter how to properly apply make-up... After you came along, fourth boy of four, that didn't seem possible. Thank you for making my dream a reality." Despite himself, Robbie let out a snort of laughter at his mother's statement- he was so focussed on his own dream coming true that it had never occurred to him that his mother might have wanted a daughter. Any doubt Robbie had in his mother's sincerity evaporated when she sat down next to him in front of the hotel room's mirror and talked him through how to properly apply every item of make-up in his bag, and within a few minutes, Robbie had grasped the basics.

"Beautiful," Robbie's mother said as she stared at her son's made-up face for the first time. "I'm not just saying that Robbie, you really would make a beautiful girl."

"Thanks," Robbie giggled nervously.

"So what do you say?" Robbie's mother asked. "Want to take that beautiful face onto the streets of Paris?" Robbie froze as his mother asked what was a simple question- playing with make-up in the privacy of a hotel room was one thing, but heading out in public? That was another ball game entirely.

"Umm, I-" Robbie stammered. "I, umm, I'd need to shave my legs first, I mean, and, umm, I'd need-"

"Tell you what," Robbie's mother said, calming her child down. "We'll spend this first day in the hotel room. We'll get your legs shaved, and your arms if you want, I'll teach you anything you want to know about how to pass as a woman, then tomorrow, if you feel up to it, we'll go out and explore Paris as mother and daughter. Deal?"

"D- deal," Robbie said with a smile. "But..."

"But...?" Robbie's mother asked.

"I- umm, you can't call me, you know, 'Robbie' when my face looks like this, right?" Robbie asked.

"Well-no, I suppose I can't," Robbie's mother mused. "We could say it's short for 'Roberta'?"

"What kind of sixteen-year-old girl's called 'Roberta'?" The teenager asked.

"Okay," Robbie's mother said, frowning at her child's indignance. "How about 'Robin'?"

"Still sounds like it could be a boy's name," the teenager shrugged.

"I've got it!" Robbie's mother said with a grin. "How about we just drop the 'R' entirely?"

"What, 'Obbie'?" The teenager asked.

"How about 'Abbey'?" The teenager's mother asked, standing back with a grin as her child considered the suggested name.

"Abbey," the teenager whispered, a smile creeping across her scarlet-coloured lips. "Abbey... I- I like it. 'Abbey Watkins'... It, you know, sounds nice."

"Nice to meet you, Abbey Watkins!" The teenager's mother said with a grin.

"Nice to meet you too!" Abbey replied with a smile as she felt her whole body start to relax.

As promised, the rest of the day was spent in the hotel room preparing Abbey for her 'debut'. Every hair was shaved clean off of her legs, arms and torso, she applied and reapplied her make-up over and over until she could do it with her eyes closed, and she even practised walking in the 2" wedge heeled sandals her mother had brought her for the holiday.

Abbey barely slept that night, she was so excited about her grand day out the following day. Her alarm went off at 7am, but she was awake a long time beforehand, going back and forth through her new outfits, trying to decide which one to wear on her big day.

Eventually, after much discussion with her mother, Abbey settled on a cute lace-fringed white tank top and a short denim skirt, along with her new wedge-heeled sandals. Under the skirt, she wore a comfortable (but tight enough to discourage any 'unwanted movement') pair of panties and a bra padded just enough to give her chest an appropriate 'shape' for a sixteen year old girl, and her face was made up just as immaculately as it had been the previous night. With her hair styled by her mother, Abbey looked just like any other sixteen-year-old girl walking through the streets of the French capital- and she had never, ever been happier. And, much to her surprise, her mother was happier than she'd ever looked in her life.

"Thank you SO much for all this," Abbey whispered as she tried not to cry and ruin her mascara.

"Thank YOU," Abbey's mother replied with a proud smile. "Now come on, Paris awaits! And who knows, maybe you'll catch the attention of some handsome French boy? Umm, assuming- assuming you do, you know, 'prefer' boys... Right?"

"Only the ones who 'prefer' me," Abbey replied with a confident smile.

"Which is every boy with a pulse and a brain cell," Abbey's mother retorted, making her daughter giggle.

"Guess I can afford to be picky, then!" Abbey said, smiling as she and her mother set out to explore the vast city.

Abbey spent every remaining second of her Paris trip in 'girl mode', never leaving her hotel room without a full face of make-up and wearing a cute skirt or dress. Even when she was asleep, Abbey was in 'girl mode', thanks to the nightdress that her mother bought on their first day in Paris. And yet, Abbey couldn't help but feel sad, especially as her holiday was drawing to an end. On their final day in Paris, Abbey openly wept tears of despair as she was forced to return her clothes to her suitcase, scrub her face clean of make-up and pull on the boring, plain jeans and t-shirt she had worn when she arrived in France.

"Oh- oh god, Abbey..." The distraught teenager's mother sighed as she wrapped her child in a loving hug.

"No," Abbey sobbed, before letting out a quiet wail of pain. "Not 'Abbey', just 'Robbie'..."

"To me, you'll always be Abbey," the boy's mother reassured her son. "And anytime you want to be Abbey at home, you just say the word, okay?"

"And what if Sean, Danny or Jack choose that moment to drop round?" Robbie sniffled.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Robbie's mother replied. "And no matter what they say, I promise I will be on your side, okay?"

"O- okay," Robbie sighed.

"Rob- no, not Robbie, Abbey," Robbie's mother defiantly said. "You've been happier the last two weeks than I've ever, ever seen you. And it's not just 'cause we're in Paris, we could've gone to Margate and if you'd had the clothes you wore on this holiday you'd have been happy."

"...Probably," Robbie shrugged.

"Definitely," Robbie's mother said. "so if you ever decide you want to, you know..."

"...What?" Robbie asked.

"If you want to, you know, make it a permanent arrangement?" Robbie's mother asked.

"What, you mean, like, have a sex change" Robbie asked. "Isn't that a bit, you know, extreme?"

"Is wanting to be happy in your own skin 'extreme'?" Robbie's mother retorted, smiling as her child offered no answer. "Whatever you decide, I will support you. Always. I promise."

"Thanks, mum," Robbie said softly as he packed away 'Abbey's clothes for the long train ride home.

However, the clothes didn't remain in the suitcase for long. Within minutes of arriving back in Basildon, 'Robbie' had become 'Abbey' once again and stayed that way for the rest of the summer holiday- but only while at home, and only when their mother was the only one in the house. Out in public, the teenager presented as 'Robbie'. When they returned to school in September, it was as 'Robbie'. When they got a job after completing their A-levels, it was as 'Robbie'. The last three birthdays of their teenage years were celebrated as 'Robbie', along with the Christmases of 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2014. However, on each of those occasions, their mother ensured that 'Abbey' had just as many, if not more presents to open than 'Robbie'- and she knew deep down that 'Abbey' appreciated her presents far more than 'Robbie' ever could.

By the start of 2015, 'Robbie' was just a face 'Abbey' wore when out in public. She considered 'Abbey' to be her 'real' persona, as did her mother, while her brothers remained blissfully unaware of their youngest sibling's double life. However, Abbey was determined that before the end of the year, 'Robbie' would become a thing of her past- and at the end of January, she arranged a job interview that she hoped would ensure just that.

Abbey took a deep breath as she once again walked through the streets of the city where 'she' had been reborn. However, instead of her floaty tops, denim skirts and wedge sandals, she wore a plain black pencil skirt, semi-opaque black tights, a smart white blouse and court shoes with a 2.5" heel. The look made her look far older than her nineteen and a half years, but she hoped that instead of 'old', the men she was in Paris to meet would look at her and think 'professional'.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Watkins," the middle-aged man said, shaking Abbey's hand as she sat down opposite him. "Je m'appelle Robert Marotte, et bienvenue a Soixante-Trois Industries."

"Merci," Abbey replied with a nervous smile as the interview began.

24 hours later, Abbey was sat beside her mother on their sofa as her brothers stared at her in disbelief.

"What," Shaun scoffed. "Is this- is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" Abbey's mother snapped back at her youngest son, while supportively gripping her daughter's hand.

"So what, you approve of HIM running off to Paris to play at being a poof?" Danny sneered.

"SHE is making a career for herself," Abbey's mother growled. "Which is more than could ever have been said for you!"

"Can- can I speak?" Abbey asked in her practised feminine voice, feeling her body shake as her brothers laughed and sneered at the sound of the new voice coming out of her mouth.

"Not anymore, you can't," Jack snorted, earning laughs from his brothers that quickly stopped following a stern gaze from their mother- and from their new sister as well.

"This isn't just who I always wanted to be," Abbey explained. "This is who I've always been, right from the start. This isn't a sudden change. This has been me for the last 3 and a half years."

"Then why is this the first we're hearing about it?" Shaun asked.

"Really?" Abbey sneered. "After the way you've spoken to me today, you really need to ask that question?" The 19-year-old girl paused as her brothers fell silent, unable to respond to her.

"It still isn't right," Danny mumbled.

"That's not your choice to make," Abbey said defiantly. "It's mine. I'm going to Paris. I'm going to be a flight attendant. You can either like it or lump it."

"And it you don't like it," Abbey's mother said in a voice just below a shout, "then you ain't welcome in this house anymore!" Abbey bit her scarlet-coloured lip as her brothers paused, before sighing and leaving the house together. Abbey let out a pained sigh as she slumped back onto the sofa, softly weeping as her mother wrapped her arms around her.

"I- I'm sorry, mum," Abbey sobbed.

"Shh, shh," Abbey's mother said. "They'll come round. If I have to smack some sense into them, I will. If you should be apologising for anything, it's flying off to Paris just as I've got used to having a daughter!"

"Heh," Abbey sighed. "I- I'm sorry about that..."

"I was joking, Abbey!" Abbey's mother chuckled. "Of course you should find your own way, you're an adult now, you're a grown WOMAN. And it's only right that you'd find work in Paris, I mean, that's where it all began, right?"

"Heh, yeah," Abbey chuckled. "So you- you don't mind, you know, being alone...?"

"Alone?" Abbey's mother scoffed. "The way your brothers go through girlfriends I'll probably be neck deep in grandchildren by this time next year!"

"Heh," Abbey giggled, hugging her mother one more time and not wanting to let go, knowing that it would be one of their last hugs for a long time.

The following day, Abbey's mother went with her daughter to St Pancras station to see her off, both women weeping only as the train pulled away. Within hours, Abbey was pulling on her new uniform for the first time. While the regulation underwear excited Abbey, particularly the lacy corset, she felt the fitted blue pencil skirt and blazer was a little plain for her tastes. It was no Playboy Bunny uniform, but it would more than do for now, especially as if what Abbey had heard was true, she would be far from the only 'alternative' girl wearing the uniform at the airline.

Abbey had only barely taken her seat in the seminar hall, ready to begin her training, when her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle American accent behind her.

"Hi," the American girl, who was blonde like Abbey, said as she extended a hand for the Englishwoman to shake. "You must be Abbey. I'm Jessica Tyler, I'll be your mentor!"

"Hi!" Abbey replied as she fidgeted in her tight skirt. "I'm really, REALLY nervous..."

"Don't be," Jessica said with a warm smile. "Go into this with the attitude that you CAN, and you WILL. There isn't a single problem you're not able to rise above."

"Too right," Abbey whispered to herself. "And I'm not done rising yet-- not by a long way!"