Who the hell am I? Chapter 1

My life has turned really strange. I want to blame someone and my sister is, at least partially, responsible, but if I am going to be honest, a lot of this is down to me and the choices I have made. I am a 14 year old boy in a figure hugging jumper dress and tights that is showing off assets I am not supposed to have. My face has been made up expertly by my mother and there is a photographer immortalising the moment in an art gallery with my entire class watching. I could have fought this, and if it wasn't for the promises I had made to myself when I was 10, I would have done. But I chose to make those promises and I choose to keep them.

What happened when I was 10 you may ask? In short, my father told my mother, over the phone I might add, that he was not coming back. My father, well, the man who was supposed to be my father, worked at the mines and would only spend short periods at home before going back out again. Over the last couple of years, he said it was too expensive to return every break he had, the flights didn't work out very well and he would spend a good portion of his time off, travelling. Instead, he was going to stay locally and return every other break. Over the last 2 years he had been home 4 times in total.

My twin sister and I were young and used to not seeing him around so when mum told us that he is not coming back it didn't bother us too much. We didn't really see the consequences, but I, at least, felt their effect on mum. I will never forget her sitting down and asking us if we wanted to move to another state to live with our Grandparents or stay with her. Her parents had disowned her when she fell pregnant at 16 and didn't get married. I wouldn't call them religious zealots, but they were strongly influenced by the catholic church and their priest. If we stayed with her, she would do her best, but money was going to be very tight. There are not many jobs that work around bringing up 2 children. She was already doing cleaning jobs to bring in some money. She knew it wasn't going to be enough and the future frightened her.

Looking into her eyes I could see that she was so close to breaking and the only thing holding her together was her being strong for her children. We immediately hugged her like crazy and repeatedly told her that we wanted to stay with her. She filled herself with determination to survive and manage and provide everything we would ask for. But that fragility that she showed me, changed me. I suppose I grew up in that moment. I made promises to myself. No longer would I argue with my sister or mum. I would help mum out, however I could. Housework, cooking, anything I could do to make her life easier, I would do. I would earn money whenever I could. I would cost as little as possible. I would bring her joy if I could. One of the things I knew in my childish mind that would make her happy was growing my hair. So I made that promise to myself that I would grow my hair, despite knowing that this would give me grief.

I naturally have ringlet type curls in a beautiful golden blonde. The problem is that I also have big blue eyes, long eyelashes, small button nose and a heart shaped face. In other words, I have always been mistaken for a girl. I don't remember my childhood very well but I remember coming home from a park. It was one of the few times my father had taken us. I was probably about 5 and he practically dragged me home, put me in a chair and got out his beard trimmer and shaved me back to stubble. When mum saw me with my hair gone, she cried. It really stuck with me.

I'm not sure if Lilith, my twin, made any promises to herself, if she did, there is no evidence of it. She certainly took advantage of my no arguing policy to get her own way. I did find that there was a certain peacefulness in not fighting. It's strange to look back and wonder why did I care who sat in the front seat. What did it really matter. I forced myself to learn patience, and Lilith soon tired of trying to irritate me.

Now, as to why I had assets that I was not supposed to have, I have no idea. About a year ago I started noticing a bit of itching and tenderness in my chest. My first port of call is google doctor. I try not to bring anything worrying to mum's attention and avoid going to the doctor as much as possible. Google doctor suggested a condition called gynaecomastia that apparently should go away all by itself as I go through puberty. As you can guess, it is now a year later and that hasn't happened. I don't know what size I am, but I am practically living in compression vests and no one, apart from Gary, who is my closest friend, and who helped get me the vests, no one knew. Today, of course, everyone knows.

The jumper dress, the make up. Well that started with a practical joke that Lilith played on me. My most annoying feature is my laugh. When I laugh, for some reason, a high pitched, loud, bark comes from somewhere. I hate it, but can't seem to stop it. Lilith knows I hate it and has learnt to make a good impression of it. Our teacher is heavily pregnant. During our first class of the day, she needed to go 3 times to the bathroom. She tried to make light of it by indicating her bump and Lilith chose this moment to imitate my laugh. When she came back she was not best pleased with me. I had to see her at the end of class. I explained that it was not me and that I thought her pregnancy was a beautiful thing. She didn't believe me and in the middle of trying to tell me off, burst into tears. I tried to comfort her, but she just pushed me away. I went home a bit upset myself. I hated the idea that I had made her cry. She was a good teacher and I liked her.

That evening she phoned mum and explained what I had done and her version of a suitable punishment. She was a strong believer that punishment needed to be a learning experience and fit the crime. She had a pregnancy simulator suit. It was really just a weighted breasts and belly, that when worn gave the shape of a pregnant woman and apparently I needed to wear it during our excursion to the art gallery. Did I think I could fight it? Maybe. It was an overreaction to an insult I didn't give, but I keep my promises, even to myself, no arguing. Mum decided that if I was going to look like a woman, I really needed to look right. The teacher, Miss Perkins, brought the pregnancy simulator round that evening. It was like a novelty T-shirt made of a stretch fabric so one size fits all, with the bumps at the front weighted. I couldn't wear my compression vest underneath, but the suit hid my man boobs, so I wasn't worried. Mum went through her wardrobe. She didn't have any maternity wear but found a stretchy jumper dress that fit alright.

The next morning mum woke me up early, I had to shower and shave all my body hair off, especially under arms and legs, not that I had a lot. Shampoo and condition my hair and use her body wash which had a lavender scent. I got dressed in the pregnancy simulator, which included a bra, panties and tights. Then I sat in a chair while she worked on me. My long curly hair was brushed and blow dried in a feminine style, and she spent ages working on my face.

When she was finally satisfied, she allowed me to see myself in the mirror. Now mum had obviously had great pleasure in doing this to me and I didn't want to upset her, and what I saw didn't surprise me. There was no trace of masculinity. A pretty girl, more than pretty really, a beautiful girl was staring back at me. A beautiful pregnant girl.

I know a lot of people would be thrilled to look like me. Gary, my closest friend, was transgender and I was the only person he had told. He had really struggled with envy and we talked about it often. He looked at his face desperate to not see any signs of male puberty and I looked at my face and always tried to find any signs of maleness at all. So far, no luck. I didn't need make up or a dress, people thought I was a girl if I dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Make that compression vest underneath, then T-shirt and jeans.

Lilith thought it was hilarious and took lots of photos on her phone and uploaded them to facebook. Normally we walk to school. More accurately, I run to school. We live in a bad neighbourhood and I am a parkour enthusiast. Not because I like the sport. No, I just want to live. I am tall for my age at 5 feet 9 inches but I am thin as a rake. I have a sort of wiry strength with no evidence of muscles. Anyway I was not looking forward to getting to school in the pregnancy suit. Mum pre empted that by offering to drive us in that morning.

We got to school and waited in the classroom for the teacher to arrive. I wasn't laughed at as much as Lilith desired, I think because I looked too natural. She tried to wind me up by doing her imitation of my laugh. That backfired. Mrs Perkins came in and heard her and started reaching her own conclusions. When we got on the coach she got me to sit next to her so we could talk.

She went through the usual announcements, how to behave and so on, Then she sat next to me and looked me in the eye. “Tell me honestly now. Did you laugh at me yesterday.”

I kept eye contact. “No. And can I ask you a question? Do you think I would do that?”

She broke our staring contest to ponder for a bit. Then turned back to me. “No. It doesn't fit your character. I've mucked up, haven't I?”

I swear I could see the beginnings of tears forming. Yes you bloody had was what I was thinking, I couldn't say that though. I took her hand and pressed it in mine. “I forgive you.” The biggest lesson I had learnt when I had promised to stop arguing was how to let it go. There is a peacefulness in letting it go that feels so much better than what you feel when you hold onto anger.

She started crying anyway, so I held her as best I could and this time she didn't push me away.

“Bloody hormones.” she said. She did it quietly and since we were at the front, I don't think too many noticed. “Do you think there is enough room in the toilet to take the pregnancy suit off?”

The coach had a toilet on it. I think she had organised the trip and chose the coach carefully. I shrugged. “I can give it a try.”

“Take it off if you can and we will leave it on the coach.”

The toilet was tiny, but I was determined and managed. When I got out I was carrying the pregnancy suit and the bra that fit over it. I was getting some odd stares as I made my way to the front and passed it to Mrs Perkins.

“Oh dear, I think the fabric has overstretched at the front.” she reached forwards and to my horror grabbed my breasts. By the shocked look on her face, I don't think she was intending to. Thinking about it, she obviously was not expecting me to have any and must have thought there was empty space behind the fabric.

She had frozen in surprise with her hands still in place so I whispered to her. “You can let them go now.”

Her hands jumped back to her. “Umm, arr.”

“Mrs Perkins.”

“Umm.”

“Mrs Perkins.” I whispered louder. “I have gynaecomastia. I usually wear a compression vest to hide it.”

“Oh, I have heard of that. I have never heard of it being that...er... pronounced.”

“I don't know anyone else with it, so I can't really compare.”

“I reckon you are almost a C cup, that is bigger than most girls in class.”

No wonder I was getting those stares. I had been so eager to get the pregnancy suit off, I completely forgot I didn't have a compression vest. I needed that vest, not just to hide them, but to support them as well. Shit. If they are that big, I really do need to see the doctor. It was not like I could keep them a secret any more. I hoped it was not going to be expensive to sort out. Mum was already working 3 jobs and was tired all the time. She had a persistent cough and I was getting worried about her.

“What did the doctor say?”

“I haven't been yet.”

“Bob.” She giggled. “I can't really call you that today.”

“Call me Kate, everybody else does.”

“From Blackadder?” She was laughing now.

“Yup.”

“Sorry, I probably shouldn't say this, but it does suit you.” At least she was smiling as she said it.

“Therein lies the problem.”

“Why haven't you been to the doctor?” Now she was looking concerned.

I looked down at the floor embarrassed. “I'm worried about the money.”

“It doesn't cost that much.”

“We are still trying to pay off Lilith's braces. She went in for a check up, next thing you know, there are tests and the money just adds up. If mum worked any harder she would have to work in her sleep.” I started crying. She rubbed my back as I got myself together. “Don't worry. I'll be alright. I can sort it out.” I said.

Chapter 2

When we arrived, before we could get started, Mrs Perkins called for a bathroom break and dragged me into the ladies and touched up my make up. I could feel her kind nature as she gently worked on me. “You're going to make a great mum.” I said to her. She beamed back at me.

When she finished I looked in the mirror. My breasts were really prominent. I tried hunching my shoulders to see if that would hide them a bit, but it didn't really work.

“Stand tall, dear. You look ridiculous bent over. You really should be in a bra. Don't run around like you normally do, you'll make them sore.”

We went around as a group with a guide commenting on all the pieces. After that we were left to stroll around on our own for an hour. My favourite was a painting of a woman looking out a window, where a party was going on and people were enjoying themselves. I was wondering why I felt connected to that particular painting. Was I thinking of myself as an outsider observing the world and a female outsider at that.

I was interrupted by a smartly dressed gentleman, probably around 40 years old. “Excuse me, madam.”

“I'm sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.” I said, turning to face him. “How can I help you?”

“Do you mind if I take a few pictures?”

I thought he meant I was in the way of him taking pictures of the art, so I said. “Go ahead, I'll just move back a bit.”

He shrugged a bit, looking somewhat confused, but not letting it get to him. Picked up his camera and started taking pictures of me. Then he started directing me. Move your arm here. Smile. Pout. He would mimic poses that he wanted me to assume. This went on for some time and my classmates started gathering to watch.

Mrs Perkins arrived and tapped him on his shoulder.

“Hmm.” he said, distracted.

“What is going on here?” she asked.

“Is she your daughter?”

“No, she is my student.”

He led her away so he could chat to her without everyone overhearing. I could see him hand her a card. He smiled at me, waved, and wandered off. Mrs Perkins was looking at me with a thoughtful expression.

The rest of the day went by pretty well actually. Apart from a few sniggers from Lilith and her crowd, I didn't get a lot of grief. Strangers looking at me would usually frown. I know what I look like and I know what they are thinking. Why is a pretty girl all dressed up like a boy. I didn't get any of that today, of course. Just smiles. A few boys did try and approach me, but I stuck close to Mrs Perkins and she chased them off.

When the coach arrived back at the school in the early afternoon, Mrs Perkins came to a decision and turned to me. “Would it be alright if I took you back to my house for a chat. I don't want any other ears listening.”

“That would be fine.”

“Do you need to phone your mum, or something.”

“No, I'll just tell Lilith.” I didn't want to tell her mum wouldn't be back until about 9pm at the earliest. I went off to find Lilith and told her I was going out and would be back later.

“What about my dinner?” she whined.

“You can either wait for me to return, cook it yourself, or just make yourself a snack.”

She huffed and left.

I found Mrs Perkins just standing behind me. “Do you usually cook dinner?”

“Only when mum isn't going to be home till late.”

“How often is that?”

“Just the weekdays.” That was a half truth. Her weekend work was sporadic and I usually cooked those days too.

I followed her back to her car and she drove me to her place. “We are no longer at school. Please call me Karen, OK?”

“OK.” I could tell she was tired. I guess being heavily pregnant and on your feet all day has got to get to you. She led me through to the open plan lounge/ kitchen/ meals area, chucked all her bags on the dining room table and sat down with a sigh.

“When my mum comes in all tired, I often give her a foot massage. Would you like one?”

I could see her internally debating whether it was appropriate versus how nice it would feel. I took the decision out of her hands by sitting next to her and reaching down to grab her foot. I took the shoe off and started working it. I had done this so often, I could do it with my eyes closed. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“Ohh. Just give me a sec.” I could feel her practically melting into her chair. “You really need to teach Peter how to do that. That is soooo good.”

I had to concentrate a bit more as I started moving up to the calf. A lot of people are really tender there, so I had to watch her carefully to get the right pressure. Enough to start working the knots out without being too painful that she tenses up.

“Questions. Yes I had lots of questions. I'm not sure I can concentrate while you are doing that to me, but I don't want you to stop. OK. I can do this.” She pulled herself together. “So you do the cooking most nights. Your mum is working all the time. I'm guessing your dad isn't in the picture and isn't offering any financial support.”

He was supposed to offer financial support of course, but he took us to court claiming that he was not the father. He was half right. My twin, yes that is right, twin, was his and I was not. I don't look anything like him and he presumed that if I was not his, neither would Lilith be. Mum produced 2 eggs and 2 different sperm from different men fertilized them. That sounds really bad for mum, especially since this happened when she was 16 and gave birth age 17. The truth was just unfortunate circumstances, but the court did not take them into consideration and we got a very poor settlement.

What actually happened and I was only deemed old enough to hear the story this year, was mum and my presumed dad were in a relationship. Her parents were insistent that she stay a virgin until she married, so she was unable to use birth control pills. That wasn't going to stop them, but it meant they had to rely on condoms. On the night in question the condom failed and they knew it had failed (she didn't go into details, for which I will be eternally grateful) and she became very stressed. She took some antidepressants that her mother was taking and when that didn't calm her down, she also had some whiskey from the liquor cabinet. They then went out for a dinner. What they didn't know was that a combination of that antidepressant and alcohol works like a date rape drug. When she started acting weird, he went to get the car, so she didn't have to walk to it (with the state she was in, she didn't think she would have made it). When he returned, she had disappeared. She woke up the next morning in a hotel room on her own with little memory of what had happened.

“Right so far detective.”

“Who does the housework?”

“Mum does a bit and I do the rest.” I pretty much did it all, but I didn't want to say that. I swapped feet and started on the toes. There was a gap in our conversation whilst I waited for her to be able to concentrate.

“Oh, that is...that is..soooo nice. Where was I? You are doing all the female roles in the household.” She woke up a bit. “I didn't mean to say that out loud.”

“That's OK. Truth is truth. I take care of us as much as I can. Mum hasn't got the time or the energy.”

“This is all off the record. The only person I may talk about our conversation is Peter and it won't go any further, alright? I don't want to offend you, but I think we need to discuss some uncomfortable subjects.”

“Sure.”

“Until today, no one has known you have breasts, and yet, you are constantly being mistaken as female, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

“Well, I have a female face and pretty hair.”

“Why don't you cut it?”

“I can't. I made a promise and I keep my promises.”

“OK. It is not just those things. There are no signs of male puberty. No facial hair, no adams apple, no deepening of the voice. You have small hands and feet. On top of that, there are signs of female puberty. Not just your breasts that no one knew about. That jumper dress is very revealing. You have curves you are not supposed to have.”

“Huh, I hadn't noticed that.”

“That is not all. Because women are broader in the hips, we tend to walk differently. It is subtle, and I suspect most people couldn't tell you how, but we all make these sort of judgements automatically. When someone walks towards us we immediately make all kinds of judgements. Male, female, angry, sad, confident, shy. You come across as female. You move with grace.”

“Umm thanks, I think.” I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

“You really need to see a doctor. I know money is a factor, but I have some ideas about that. What time is your mum home tonight? Her name is Jennifer, right.”

“Yes. This is still off the record?”

“Absolutely.”

“She should be home about 9 tonight. I need to be home a bit earlier so I can have dinner ready for her.”

“What about Lilith?”

“I told her, she can take care of herself or wait, her choice. I suspect she will have some toast or cereal to keep her going and wait for me to cook.”

“Here is what I have come up with. I can take you to a GP that only does drop ins and bulk bills. If you don't have your health card with you we can pick it up first. If it requires further tests we can find out how much they will cost. Will Jennifer be alright with my taking you in?”

“You don't have to do that, Mrs Perkins.”

“I do if I want to and it is Karen. So, would Jennifer object?”

“No, she wouldn't mind. I will have to tell her later. I don't like worrying her.”

“Right now, I am worried, so to ease my mind, can we go?”

“Yes and thank you. But let me get you something to eat first.”

“It is my house you know.”

“Yes and you have been on your feet all day. Besides, your feet should be nicely relaxed now, we don't want to get them all tense again.”