This
work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are
purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the
purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in
respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not
claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The
author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own
political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately
offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains
adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining
to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
Unfortunately
no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one
else was either.
If
you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me
and lie.
I
will always welcome contact.
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The
legal stuff.
This
work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in
relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any
adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or
for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through
legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by
individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than
the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with
the express permission of the author.
Please enjoy.
Tanya
The Hard Way
By Tanya Allan
One
Ricky came pounding round the
corner, almost knocking Kyle off his feet.
“Shit!” said Kyle.
“Fuck, sorry mate!” said the other,
taking a quick look behind him before dashing off towards the school offices.
It was April 2003, the beginning of
the summer term, the pair’s final term at school. Kyle’s friend Ricky Hamley
had managed to seriously upset a couple of rugger buggers over some petty
disagreement. Ricky initially claimed he couldn’t even remember what it was
all about. All he knew was that they wanted revenge. The two boys, Roger
Filby and Pete Groves, were the two biggest and best rugby players and all
round athletes to come out of their year. They were both hoping to get to prime
universities with first-class sports teams.
They also took exception to Ricky’s
prolonged presence on planet earth, seeking to remove it at every opportunity.
“They are so ignorant and stupid,” Ricky said later,
as they met up again after school, while walking home.
Kyle nodded, adjusting his round, ‘John Lennon’ style
spectacles.
“I mean, they are so wrapped up in themselves, they
can hardly see out of their own assholes!” Ricky continued.
“They may well be, but it doesn’t pay to tell them
that to their faces,” his friend said.
“Okay, so they’re bigger and faster than me, too.”
Ricky went quiet.
“So, what you want to do about it?” Kyle asked.
Ricky shrugged. He was Kyle’s best friend. Actually,
to tell the truth, Kyle was his only friend. They had grown up together,
having met on their first day at school together all those years ago. It
wasn’t so much that they had a lot in common, they hadn’t. It was more that
they had both been together for so long that they didn’t really know anything
else.
Both boys were average sized teenagers, the kind of
boys that everyone instantly forgets. Ricky had very short, shorn hair. He
preferred it short, as he was inherently lazy, so it required absolutely no
effort at any time.
Kyle, on the other hand had unfashionably long hair,
normally pulled back and restrained in a ponytail. Everyone thought it was a
statement of rebellion, which went with his baggy clothes and generally untidy
appearance. He wore the round glasses because he thought it made him look
rather like the boffin in Star Gate. It didn’t actually, but he was ignorant
of that fact.
Actually, the truth was somewhat different.
Kyle, at seventeen, was an intelligent and sensitive
boy. He was also a deeply troubled and recently an increasingly unhappy one.
The youngest of three brothers, in an otherwise very
happy home, Kyle realised when he was about five or six that nature had played
a nasty trick on him. He wasn’t sure what that trick was, but he knew that
something wasn’t right.
His father, Jacob Manning, was a superb role model for
any son. He adored sports, so always spent as much quality time with his sons
as he possibly could. He was a strict parent, but caring and scrupulously
fair. Never having had the inclination to hit any of his sons. The respect
they had for him was evident in all the boys’ behaviour and general demeanour.
The Manning boys were always considered the most
polite and good-natured boys in every aspect of their lives. Their mother,
Rebecca, was as strict her husband, yet in a very gentle and loving way.
Jake was now a Managing Director of his own
engineering firm specialising in components for the air-conditioning industry.
They had bought out several smaller firms during the recession, and his was now
one of the largest in the Home Counties. They had moved out to Abingdon from London when the boys were young. They
chose Abingdon because Rebecca’s parents lived there. Her father had not been
at all well, dying shortly after the move, so it was only fitting that they now
lived in the same road as her mother. Jake’s first works had been in London. He took the move as a step up and away
from the stress of the large city.
His grandfather was of Irish descent, lost now to the
family in the midst of an English way of life. However, he was the possessor a
streak of temper that would be forever Irish, and it was restricted to those
moments when fools displayed themselves in all their glory. He adored his
sons, but was fiercely proud and protective of them, with high expectations for
each of them.
Kyle had been only four at the time of the move, so
couldn’t remember the small apartment in London. Rebecca was a pretty woman whose mother, Ingrid, was Swedish,
having married an English doctor just after the Second World War and settled in
Abingdon. There was more than a hint of Norse in Rebecca’s high cheekbones and
very fair hair. Ingrid had insisted that all three of her children had learned
Swedish as well as English. As many of the family holidays had been spent in
Sweden, the boys, Andrew and Steven, (Kyle’s uncles) had met and subsequently
married Swedish girls, leaving only Rebecca with them in England. Only Andrew
still lived in Sweden, as
Steven and his wife Madeline had settled in Canada.
Their house was bigger and more comfortable than
anything they could have hoped for in London. Jake was now fifty and just wanted to stay in work until all the
boys were through further education. Stephen at twenty-three had recently
qualified as a doctor, ironically, at the LondonHospital in the East End. Michael, two years behind him,
was studying law, hoping to become a barrister.
That left Kyle, the baby, the only one still at home.
Whereas his brothers were broad, tall and somewhat rust coloured, displaying
their Irish genes, Kyle was far more like his mother. Slender and fair, he had
similar high cheekbones, appearing far more sensitive, in both bone structure
and temperament. Rebecca was very musical, so was delighted when their youngest
son displayed some of her musical gifts.
As the two boys walked home through the town, Kyle
listened to his friend as he listed terrible ways he could pour out retribution
upon the two larger sixth formers. Ricky was quite venomous in his hatred for
the two boys, whereas Kyle had no strong feelings either way. He accepted that
sometimes Ricky seemed to attract shit, so he just let his friend rant for a while.
Kyle did not know the two boys in question, except by
sight. They took different subjects to him, as did Ricky for that matter. It
was a large school, as the sixth form was very big, so there was no reason to
mix with many of the other students.
Kyle hadn’t wanted to stay on for A levels. Not at
this school, at any rate, but had done so to please his parents. He had no
real idea what he wanted to do. Several years ago, Ricky told him he’d make a
first class rock guitarist, so he had rather allowed himself to follow this
with his long hair and scruffy image. His two delights were his music and art,
the latter he had taken as an A level, along with French.
They stopped at a shop to look at some new CDs and
DVDs. Ricky was really into X-Box games, whereas Kyle was not. He sometimes
enjoyed them, but found them pretty brain numbing really.
While they were in the shop, a group of girls they
knew walked past. Kyle waved, Sally Crawford, one of his closer friends,
smiled and waved back. Pete and Roger were following. Roger shouted something
that caused the girls to go red and walk hurriedly away. Roger and Pete
laughed, swaggering into the off licence.
Kyle was watching the girls with a wistful expression
on his face. His friend noticed and laughed.
“In your dreams, mate. They are far too good for the
likes of us!”
Kyle frowned slightly, as he digested what Ricky
said. Then he smiled, as his mind was far from where his friend believed it
was. Although he was seventeen, he didn’t look it. He looked quite a bit
younger, so this had made things harder, as he was the youngest in the year.
He had an August birthday, which meant he wasn’t eighteen until late summer.
Most of the others in his year were already eighteen, even Ricky.
Girls of his age were looking at twenty-year old boys,
so he had never had much luck attracting girlfriends, although he did have
several girls as friends. In fact, he had many more female friends than male.
He seemed to relate to girls easier.
He smiled wistfully again, as he watched the girls
walk out of sight.
“Those bastards! I wonder what they said,” said
Ricky.
Kyle shrugged.
“I heard Pete Groves bragging that he had the pick of
all the girls in the upper and lower sixth,” Ricky said.
“So?”
“He’s a prat.”
Kyle watched the two boys walk out of the shop over
the road. They were big lads, over six feet, and broad. They were built along
similar lines to Kyle’s two brothers. Kyle didn’t think either looked a prat.
Pete was taller with fair hair.
Kyle looked at the boy. He was a good-looking lad,
with an easy smile and relaxed manner. He was wearing jeans and an England rugby shirt. Unlike the similar
shirt Kyle owned, Pete filled it and looked as if he could wear it for real.
“Just what did you do to make them mad at you?” Kyle
asked.
“Nuffin’.”
“Come on, guys like that don’t beat you up for
nothing,” Kyle said.
“I,.. I may have said something,” Ricky conceded,
somewhat reluctantly.
“Like?”
“I may have said they were poofs, or something.”
Kyle looked at his friend.
“You wanker! No wonder they beat you up. What on earth
made you say something like that?”
“Pete asked Lucy Chalmers to the summer ball.”
“Who? Lucy, the little redhead in my French set?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“I wanted to ask her, so I thought I’d make her think
again.”
“So, by spreading a rumour about them being gay, you
thought she’d drop a gorgeous bloke for a skinny runt like you?”
“Oi, you ain’t no oil painting, you know!” Ricky said
with a grin.
“Maybe not, but at least I don’t go spreading sick
rumours about people.”
“It could be true.”
“So what if it is? It doesn’t matter, does it?”
Ricky went quiet. Kyle realised that his friend was
his seeking support and he wasn’t getting it.
The boys separated and caught the necessary bus to
their homes. Ricky was still muttering about revenge when Kyle left him.
“Hello dear, good day at school?” Rebecca asked, as
Kyle walked into the kitchen.
“It was okay, I suppose. I’ll be glad when it’s all
over.”
“In my day we never got the study time at home that
you seem to get.”
“Times change, Mum; I don’t stay home as much as
some. The History set seems to spend most of their time at home. It’s all
essays for them. At least in Art and French, there is loads of practical stuff
to do.”
“What are you going to do with your life?” she asked,
a look of concern on her face.
Kyle shrugged, and flicked his hair back from his
face, in an unconsciously feminine gesture.
Rebecca gazed at her youngest son, feeling a pang of
regret tinged with guilt.
She had really wanted a daughter, as poor Kyle was so
different to his brothers; it was almost as if nature was teasing her. Kyle
would have made a very pretty girl.
“I don’t want to go to Uni straight off. I’m not
eighteen yet, Mum, I want to see a bit of the world first. I suppose I could
take a year or two out, to see what life throws at me.”
“Your father thinks you could join the Special
Constabulary. That would give you a real taste of life.”
“Dad has always wanted one of us to join the Police,
just because he always wanted to, but never got the chance. I don’t think it’s
me, do you?”
Rebecca smiled and shook her head.
“No, Kyle, I don’t. But neither of us will ever make
you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“That’s fine. I just wish I knew what the hell I
wanted to do.”
He went up to his room and switched on his computer.
He completed a French translation and then logged into his emails. Sally
Crawford had sent him a picture of a really fat lady. Sally was fun, and the
nearest thing he had to a girlfriend. His father thought they were an item,
but Kyle didn’t see Sally like that. To him, she was just a good friend, who
was neither threatening nor a romantic liaison.
Kyle logged into Sapphire’s Place. He read a new
story, feeling the guilt spread through his whole being as he related to the
central character. He had discovered the site by accident some months ago. It
had been like a punch in the gut.
He had felt unsettled and very unsure of himself for
some time. So much so, that he’d been sent to the school counsellor. The counsellor
had said that most teenagers felt the same, and it was something everyone went
through. However, Kyle wasn’t blind and neither was he stupid. He could see
his contemporaries, so he was able to ascertain that no one seemed to be quite
like him.
He didn’t know why, as hadn’t any particular feelings
that he could identify. He knew he wasn’t gay, as he was not attracted to any
of the boys. He also knew he wasn’t exactly straight, either, as the girls he
liked were as friends, but not as potential sexual partners.
The whole sex thing was slightly disturbing. He
didn’t seem to be as highly sexed as his male contemporaries. They seemed to
talk about sex all the time. Indicating that when they weren’t talking about
it, they were thinking about it.
He rarely thought about sex, and this disturbed him,
as he felt that he should be.
Then he found Sapphire’s Place.
After reading Melanie’s Reluctant Girlfriend, he felt
an enormous weight lift from his shoulders. He also felt as if his world was
about to come shattering down around his ears. He was suddenly able to
identify what he was. He found a semi-sexual arousal. It was more emotional
than sexual, as he experienced a warm feeling deep down whenever he thought
about what he could have been.
It wasn’t at any image of a male or female, but at the
simple concept of him as a male being transformed into a female, and everything
that entailed. The arousal was more spiritual than physical. He just knew,
for certainty, that he should have been a girl, and everything seemed to become
clear. The simple thought of being a girl made his innards feel excited and
fluttery.
He couldn’t tell anyone, and that was so hard.
As he reflected on his short life, he felt an enormous
sense of loss. If only he had been born a girl, then everything would feel
right! He knew that due to his age, not a lot could have been done, even if he
was aware and able to share it.
This secret became his new burden, so he began to wish
he had never found out.
He had started to dress in his mother’s clothes when
he had the house to himself. He had started with just underwear and then
progressed to a complete change. Makeup had proved difficult, but after a while,
he managed to acquire some small skill, owed in part at least, to his artistic
gifts and burning desire to be female.
As he looked at his transformed self, the guilt and
inner frustration of the lie he was living, caused him to quit. He had never
repeated the performance. It was so painful to look at something he could
never be, so he attempted to bury his inner feelings deep in his subconscious.
The shame, guilt, frustration and inner turmoil made
Kyle an unhappy young man.
He heard his father arrive home, so he went down to
greet him. He loved both parents, and that was part of the problem. He
actually cared deeply about what they felt about life, as he believed that they
would be deeply shocked and shamed by his secret. He did not want to cause
them any pain, despite the fact he was now in almost constant mental anguish.
Supper was quiet, and his father was obviously
distracted by a contract that was proving troublesome, so he was not really
able to give Kyle his full attention.
Kyle was content to slip back up to his room. His
mobile rang. It was Sally.
“Hi Sal, what’s up?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d done your
translation?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Yes. It was quite easy, for a change. What are you
doing now?”
“Not a lot, just reading, why?”
“I got a call from Ricky. What’s his problem with
Roger and Pete?”
“Don’t ask. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve time. He seems to want people to gang up
against them. He asked me what they said this afternoon, just after I saw you
in the Virgin store.”
“What did they say?”
“Not much, just something about Jane’s short skirt.
Mind you, it is short.”
“Ricky wanted to ask Lucy to go to the Summer Ball,
but he heard that Pete asked her. Then he started spreading a rumour that Pete
and Roger are gay, in the hope that Lucy would change her mind, and he could
ask her.”
“What a dick. Lucy is going with Mark. They’ve been
going out for weeks!”
“Yeah, but you know Ricky.”
“I don’t understand why you two are so friendly. He’s
a real pain.”
“We go way back together,” Kyle said, not really able
to explain it further than that.
“Anyway, Pete asked me after Lucy turned him down,”
Sally said.
“Oh, and did you accept?” Kyle asked, feeling faintly
jealous.
“Not exactly. I told him I’d let him know. Who have
you asked?”
“I haven’t. I wasn’t going to go.”
“Why not? It’s our last one.”
“It’s just not my scene, Sal. You know me.”
“Yeah. That’s the problem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Look, are you going to be in all evening?”
“I suppose.”
“Can I meet you? I think we need to talk.”
“What about?” Kyle asked, frowning.
Sally laughed a nervous laugh.
“Oh, everything and nothing, life, you, me, just
everything really.” she said, evasively.
“Okay. Do you want to come here, or shall we meet
somewhere?”
“It’s a nice evening, how about by the river?”
“Sure. Fifteen minutes?”
“Fine. Bye.”
Kyle frowned and disconnected.
He logged out of his computer, and went downstairs.
“I’m off out. I’m meeting Sally,” he told his
parents, who were sitting watching the TV.
“Okay. Don’t be late. You’ve school tomorrow,” his
Dad said.
“I won’t.”
He went to the garage and wheeled out his scooter. He
had passed the final bit of the two-part test only three weeks ago, and he was
pleased to be independent. It took him five minutes to reach the car park just
over the bridge on the Wallingford Road. Sally’s Mini was already there, so he rode up next to it.
He parked and locked the bike, walked to the path by
the river. He found Sally already waiting for him, sitting on one of the
benches. She was a pretty girl, with long auburn hair. She was only an inch
shorter than he was, and was developing a very curvaceous figure. He was very
fond of her.
She smiled as he approached. There was a moment of
awkwardness, as she looked as if she wanted to kiss him, and he appeared less
inclined to do so.
“Hi, Kyle.”
“Hi.”
They sat for a moment, watching the ducks.
“So, what’s this about?”
“Kyle, I need to know something.”
He glanced at her. She didn’t look at him, staring
instead across the river.
“What?”
She turned and stared him right in the eye.
“This is going to sound lame, but what do you think of
me?” she asked.
“Think of you? In what way?”
“Any way. I need to know.”
Kyle smiled.
“I think you’re great. You’re more than a good
friend. You’re my best friend and I’m very fond of you. Why?”
“Just fond?”
“Sal, why?”
She sighed, and looked down at her hands. She picked
at a hangnail, and seemed upset.
“Sally, have I done something wrong?” he asked.
She looked back at him, and he was surprised to see
tears in her eyes.
“Oh, Kyle. No, you haven’t done anything. That’s the
problem!”
“Problem?”
“Oh shit, Kyle! How thick are you going to be? I love
you, you daft sod!”
Kyle felt as if he’d been kicked in the belly.
“Oh,” he managed to say.
“Oh? I’ve fancied you for ages, and thought you felt
the same way. But you never said anything, even when I told you Pete asked me
to the Ball. Am I so wrong?”
Kyle stared across the water.
“Kyle?”
“It’s not you, Sal. It’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do love you, but not like that. As a friend. More
than a friend, but not a boy-girl thing.”
“Kyle, are you gay?” she asked.
It was Kyle’s turn to feel the sting of tears in his
eyes.
“No, Sal, I’m not. It would be easier if I was.”
“How do you mean?”
Kyle sat back at looked at the sky. He’d have to tell
someone eventually, so why not Sally?
“Sal, I’m not like everyone else. I don’t really know
how to explain it, but I’m just different,” he said, trying to work out how to
say it without sounding foolish.
“In what way?”
“Look, I’ve never told anyone this, and I hope you
won’t tell anyone. Sal, I feel I should have been born a girl.”
There, it was out, and he started to shake as the
emotions started to well up. Sally stared at him, and she started to realise
what pressures he had been carrying and keeping locked up tight inside him.
She touched his hand and he started to cry. She held
him as he let his head fall onto her shoulder and the tears flowed. He cried
for a long time. The release of pent-up emotions and tensions took ages to
come out. She’d been dying to get this close to him, but these weren’t the circumstances
she’d imagined.
“Shit, you poor sod!” she said, and he started to
laugh.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, Kyle, I never knew. How long have you felt like
this?”
“It sort of dawned on me a few years back, I was about
ten or so, but I knew something was wrong when I was very little. I suppose I
didn’t want to think about it too much. I just knew that I wasn’t right as I
am.”
“That explains a hell of a lot,” she said.
“What?”
“Just why you never came on to me, even when I gave
you all the signals. Shit, you’re just another girl at heart, aren’t you?”
He nodded and smiled, with little humour.
“Do you fancy boys?”
He shook his head.
“To be honest, I don’t think I fancy anyone. I just
want to find out who I really am first.”
She stroked his face, brushing his hair back from his
cheeks. She looked closely at him, and began to see him in a new light.
“Have you ever, you know, dressed up as a girl?”
He nodded.
“Ages ago, but I stopped because it wasn’t right. Oh
Sal, I want to be a real girl, not some drag artist!”
The tears of frustration welled up again, so she wiped
his damp cheek.
“I’m so sorry Sally. I’d really love to be the boy
you thought I was. I just can’t pretend very well.”
She smiled.
“Yeah, well, it’s not to be. So, what do you say we
make you into the girl you want to be?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t want to pretend. Yes, I want to be a girl,
but not just on the outside.”
“You have to start somewhere. Besides, I’m curious.”
“About what?”
“About what you’d look like. I reckon you’d be
stunning.”
“I’d be a boy dressed up as a girl,” he said, the
bitterness seeping from every word.
“That depends of your mind-set. If you start to build
a female side, then you can be whoever you want to be.”
He frowned.
“Kyle, you don’t have to stay like this. There are
ways to change, these days. It’s not such a big deal.”
“My parents…”
“Kyle, they have their lives, you have yours. You
must do what you can to be happy and fulfilled. If it means changing stuff,
then change!”
“It’s expensive.”
She looked at him.
“Are you frightened?”
He nodded.
“Then let me help you. Come back to my place, and we
can talk about it a bit more.”
He shook his head again.
“Not tonight. I need to think about things. You
won’t tell anyone, will you?”
She smiled.
“No, of course not. Look, come by after school
tomorrow.”
“Okay, maybe. Sally, I’m so sorry. If you want we
could go to the Summer Ball together?”
“Oh, we will, we will!” she said, but with a strange
glint in her eye.
She gave him a hug and he left her. She watched him
walk off, his head hanging, and hands in his pockets. He looked miserable.
2.
The school cafeteria was packed, so Kyle sat by
himself in a corner. Ricky was at the servery, and by the looks of things, he
was in yet another argument with Roger Filby.
Sally came and sat with him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for listening last night. I feel a bit
better having told someone.”
She touched his hand.
“No problem, that’s what we girls do, stick together.”
He looked round in a panic, as he realised what she
had said.
“Kyle, relax. It’s cool.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m a bit sensitive.”
“I know. It’s just I really do see you as a girl. It
explains so much.”
“So, are you going to come as my partner to the ball?”
he asked.
“We’ll go together, but not as partners.”
He frowned, but couldn’t say anything as Peter Groves
ambled over. He sat opposite Sally, nodding amiably at Kyle without really
seeing him.
“Hi Sally, had enough time yet?”
“Hmm, what’s it worth?”
He laughed, and shook his head.
“Ah, there is a long line of wannabes if you should
turn me down!”
Sally looked slightly hurt, and Kyle could see a spark
of resentment in her eyes. So did Pete, so he immediately softened the
statement by saying, “But of course you’re my first choice.”
“When do you want to know by?”
“How about this evening?”
“Oh? The Ball isn’t until July.”
“I have to make plans,” he said, smiling. He had a
charming smile.
“I see, frightened that the best will all be snapped
up?” she said, slightly sarcastically.
He just grinned.
“I guarantee that who ever I take will be the best,”
he said.
“Oh, you never know, you may have to go with another
bloke.”
“Not me!” he said and grinned again. He was certainly
rather arrogant.
“Well, I think you’d better ask a wannabe, because I
don’t like being given short deadlines.” Sally said, and Pete looked a little
crestfallen for a moment. It was as if he wasn’t used that to being turned
down by a girl who wasn’t obviously already going out with someone.
Kyle suppressed a grin of triumph, as he did feel slightly
jealous, and yet he didn’t really want to go at all.
“Your loss, Sally. If you change your mind, give me a
ring this evening.”
He stood up and walked off.
“That self-opinionated sod!” said Sally, with some
feeling.
Kyle was watching his as he wandered over to another
group of girls. There were many smiles and they made room for him to sit in
their midst.
“He’s very good looking, and knows it,” he said.
“Oh-ho, fancy him do we?” Sally asked with a cheeky
grin.
Kyle shook his head.