Cary learns about life at an early age, which is TFB for him.

Cary
by Angela Rasch

Cary slowed from his sprint, once he was in sight of his house and no longer feared for his life.

I don’t need to cause Mommy any more worry than she has already.

He skipped the last fifty feet to their front gate. His hands flew in that carefree way that spoke of his inner femininity.

Cary then plastered a smile on his face. “A smile is a happiness you find right under your nose,” he announced to the world, while he pulled open their front door.

Everything about their house indicated that it was a no-man-allowed-zone. Ever since his father had given up on their family, and moved two states away, Cary and his mother had finally been free to decorate their house just exactly the way they wanted.

The air spoke of the fresh potpourri they had mixed just that last weekend. Every square inch of space was devoted to the kinder, gentler side of nature that only those with feminine spirits can appreciate.

“Did you have a nice day, Cary?” Her voice carried from the kitchen where the hour suggested she would be concocting something scrumptious. They both watched their figures like owlets, so their dinner would be tasty -- but non-fattening.

Should I tell her?

Cary looked around their home and thanked his lucky stars that his father was at least competent enough as a businessman to provide a lifestyle of ease for his mother and him. . .. He owed them that much, seeing as how he wasn’t capable of providing the kind of emotional support Cary really needed.

She needs to know. “I had a situation on the way home from school. . .again.”

“Oh no!”

He could hear sounds that indicated his mother was setting her cooking aside.

Cary set down the large, leather purse that he used for a book bag.

His father had screamed foul language at his mother when he saw what she had purchased for Cary.

Things are much more peaceful, since the divorce.

Within a moment, she joined him in their pleasantly appointed living room and pulled him into a warm hug. “What happened, my little sweetie-pie?”

“It was those boys, again,” Cary said, his mouth twisting around “boys” as if he had eaten a pickle.

“Darling,” his mother admonished, “you know what I’ve told you about playing with boys. Didn’t you walk home from school, with Susie and Cheryl?”

Cary smiled involuntarily at the mention of his BFFs. Susie and Cheryl were his most-closest friends. They spent most of their afternoons after school playing with him. They either played dolls or dress-up, with their mothers’ clothes. Both Susie and Cheryl’s mothers were divorced. So, they all had that in common.

Sadly, all three children had to see their fathers two or three times a year, Fortunately, the visits occurred, only if their mothers were along, to monitor their fathers’ actions.

“They had cheerleading practice today,” Cary said. Both Cary and his mother frowned at the word “cheerleading.” Their lawsuit, to force the school to allow him to take part on the fifth-grade cheerleading squad, was pending.

The school had said he could be on the squad. But Principal Peter had done the normal male thing and drawn a line, at allowing Cary to wear the same uniform as the girls. The Principal, thinking with his male organs and not his brain, thought Cary should wear something more “male-oriented.”

“Like a jock-strap!” his mother had harrumphed, at the school board meeting when Mr. Peter made his sexist announcement.

“So, what’s bothering my little Snookumsa,” his mother said. She ran her fingers through his ringlets, which made both of them smile, in delight.

“I stopped by the park, for a second, to watch the boys in my class play baseball,” Cary said. “I didn’t have any interest in playing.”

“Of course not,” his mother gasped. “You could’ve broken a nail. Besides, I’ve seen the men they pick for coaches. I wouldn’t want you within a mile of any of them. They strut around absolutely reeking of testosterone.”

“That’s what caused the trouble,” Cary said. He looked down at his shirt, which wasn’t all that feminine, although his mother had bought it in a boutique and it was a color most boys wouldn’t wear.

They had to shop in boutiques, to avoid any chance of a man waiting on them, with all the attending bias.

“Testosterone? What happened?” His mother’s eyes had grown to the size of an overnight moisturizer jar lid, and she had adopted a no-nonsense posture with one foot slightly back of the other -- for good balance.

“It was the way that the boys reek -- that caused all the trouble,” Cary said demurely. He took a seat on the couch and patted a spot next to himself, for his mother. He lovingly touched the gold studs in his ears and made a mental note to wear something more dangly, for dinner.

“Oh,” she said in total agreement, “I know. They should make boys shower after every recess. But please -- go on. Whatever happened, I’m sure we can deal with it.” She smiled bravely. The two of them had been through so much, trying to exist in a male-dominated world.

“It was Tommy who started it,” Cary explained.

“I could have guessed,” she responded. “If there ever was a boy who should be feminized, it’s that Tommy.”

Cary nodded knowingly, thinking about dresses that might possibly look good on Tommy’s rather square body. He sighed. It’s truly wonderful that I’m blessed with a thin, small frame. “It’s not his fault entirely,” Cary allowed. “I’ve met his father and grandfather. He comes by ‘it’ naturally.”

“It” was how Cary and his mother referred to machismo, the worst virus known.

Cary’s mother drummed the coffee table, with her long nails. “I say again, if ever there was a boy who should be forced to wear dresses it’s Tommy.”

Cary clapped his hands together with glee -- at the very notion. Then he frowned. “Too bad he doesn’t have a mommy like you.”

“There are some men who should be locked up or castrated -- so that we don’t have to worry about them,” she said, waving a warning finger in her son’s face. Her smile softened. “You did a nice job with your eyes today, especially the liner.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a great teacher.” His smile faded as he considered the subject at hand. “Oh, I know . . . they’re all devils.” Cary looked puzzled for a moment. “Mommy, if boys are so bad, why do I feel all gooey around them, sometimes.”

“That’s nature’s way of preserving our species. Our bodies tempt us to let down our defenses -- so we breed. Ugh! There are better ways to satisfy those urges. When you’re old enough, I’ll show you how easily men are replaced.” She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “The thing you need to realize is that all men are liars. They pretend to be wild about you, to get you into bed. But after a while, they will all turn against you. Every man I’ve ever known has eventually given into his basic instincts and decided to hate me.”

Cary’s eyes were wide open absorbing everything his mommy told him.

“What did Tommy do to you?” She asked.

“It all started innocently,” Cary said, thinking how castration was a fate too good, for most males. He quietly picked up a nail file and started to work on his cuticle. They always did his nails, before dinner. “Tommy asked me why I wear perfume to school.”

“That’s a strange question,” she said, admiring how diligently her son approached his personal grooming, “even for a boy.”

Cary nodded. “That’s what I thought. I told him I wasn’t wearing perfume. Can you imagine? Who would ever wear perfume to school?”

They both laughed at how stupid males often can be.

“I told him that the scent he was smelling was a combination of my body wash, deodorant, and bath powder.”

“Is that when he started making fun of you? I’ve warned his mother about him picking on you. We could get another restraining order.”

Cary giggled, thinking about how many boys had to stay at least one hundred feet away from him. “No, I could tell he actually like my lavender scent. I wanted to do something nice for him, in return.”

“That was sweet of you.” She gave him a hug that spoke of her pride. “What did you do?”

“Tommy smelled like something between a dead squirrel and a dog’s gland. I leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, telling him just that. I didn’t want to embarrass him, in front of all those other boys. But he needed to know. Only a true friend would ever tell him something like that.”

“You did the right thing.” She patted his hand.

Cary felt the smoothness of her skin and grinned when he remembered all the lotions he used to be just as soft as her. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” He pushed an errant hair behind his ear, in a move that hadn’t been “natural” for him -- until he had practiced it for hours, in front of his floor-to-ceiling bedroom mirror. “Tommy evidently misheard me because he got really angry and said something I just could never repeat. I thought it best to get out of there before something awful happened. I ran all the way home. I’m sure the boys were chasing me because that’s what their kind does.”

“Oh, Cary! Do you mean all those men coaches stood around and allowed Tommy to scare you, without doing anything to save you?”

Cary nodded.

“Typical. Thank goodness you got home safely. Home is your oasis. Are you sure you’re okay.”

“I was so worried they would catch me and de-pants me.”

His mother nodded knowingly. She had many times told Cary the story of how she had run away from her grandfather -- when she had been sure that he had been thinking about molesting her.

Cary had discarded all of his male underthings that previous fall and wore only panties. He had made a slip of the tongue one day in class, about how nice it felt to be wearing nylon panties rather than horrid cotton underwear.

Ever since -- the boys were always trying to embarrass Cary by pulling down his jeans.

Principal Peter refused to warn the boys to stop.

“Mom,” Cary asked. “Do you think I’ll ever have beautiful breasts like yours?”

She smiled. “I’m so glad we were able to get the clinic to start your hormone treatments.” It had taken nearly six months, in court, to force the horrible man who ran the clinic, to do the right thing. They had found a wonderful female attorney who used legal magic, to help them.

Cary was the youngest boy they knew of, to be approved, for hormone therapy.

“We’re so lucky that we were able to get your case in front of a female judge. She didn’t see you as an eleven-year-old boy. But as a girl whose body would soon be poisoned by testosterone.”

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” Carrie enthused, glancing down at the outline of a training bra under her blouse. “Once I have my surgery, in a few years, I will have successfully avoided male-patterned ‘oafiness.’”

They laughed and gave each other a soft, celebratory, high-five.

Carrie became serious. “I am a girl -- aren’t I, Mommy?”

She shook her head at the obvious fishing, for a compliment. “Of course, you are, Honey.”

“Mom,” Carrie stated, “I can’t wait for the day when they cut off my ugly penis and testicles.”

His mother laughed gaily. “I think I know exactly how you feel. But nice girls don’t say nasty words like that out loud.”

Carrie looked puzzled. “I’m confused. You and I often talk about the advantages of having a vagina.”

“You must never let a man tell you not to speak openly about women’s issues. They try to make us uncomfortable with our own bodies. But, Carrie,” her mother warned sternly, “there is a world of difference between a vagina and a penis.”

A happy, healthy daughter nodded and skipped merrily out of the room.

All was well, in the world of two women -- where everything was approached with an eye for balance.

***

I woke to the sound of my dad calling me for breakfast.

I have to hurry. My little league game starts in an hour. I’m pitching today. Tom and Mario think I might pitch a non—hitter!

I grinned while running my hand through my brush-cut. That was one crazy nightmare I had last night.

A boy in our class, Stephan, walks funny and must have made me think of all that crazy stuff.

However. . .!

The End

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a kudos and a comment. They mean a lot to me.

Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

I have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list, you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:

Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Thing You Always Pined For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
The Handshake That Hides the SnakeI have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list, you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:
Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Things You Always Pined For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
Minnifer
Voices Carry
Andy and Dawn
The Handshake That Hides the Snake