Author’s Note: This is another of my Jane Thompson ‘what if’ stories that’s been hounding me night and day, demanding it be written. The issues within this story are much darker than in any of my previous stories, told by a seventeen-year-old boy who witnessed the horrible treatment of the children by two families, if said children made it known they would not participate in any forced marriage. Reader beware, while what takes place is not told in great detail, it nevertheless can be disturbing. Also, there are flashbacks throughout the story, which may seem a bit confusing at times. ~ Jamie Lee ~

The Webster and Dorman families were brought together by the rescues first by a Dorman young man of a Webster young girl, then two years later a Webster young man of a Dorman young girl, and ensuing love which led to marriage when they each turned eighteen. Because of the first two marriages, other marriages, because of love, occurred between the Webster and Dorman families. But a little over one hundred and fifty years later, the then head of the Webster and Dorman families believed everything told of those first marriages to be lies. They were lies because no one married because of love, only opportunity, so those first two marriages had to have been forced. And it was at that point the love that had blossomed as a result of two rescues, that had brought two families together, was perverted, and a little over one hundred years of hell began for the two families. A hell that was Family Punishment for any Webster or Dorman child who failed to comply with the Family Obligation of marriage when they turned eighteen. And love be damned.

Seventeen-year-old Stephen William Webster and his nanny, Better Wilcox, finally blow the whistle after the murder of thirteen-year-old Rachael Dorman because she refused to be forced into a loveless marriage. Stephen and Betty must be hidden because people from the Webster and Dorman families are hunting him, thinking he is running away from a forced marriage. Betty makes contact with three of her former University sorority sisters, and together they formulate plans to hide Stephen at the one place unknown to either the Webster or Dorman families, the Winsome Girls’ School for Wayward Boys. Jane Thompson’s home.

After Chester, Stephen, had sat down on a hay bail near Jane she asked him, “Has anyone told you of our plans to keep you safe? Anything at all?” Stephen just shook his head, no, before Jane continued. “You expressed a negative when Venessa suggested you would make a lovely girl, correct?” Stephen smirked and nodded his head, yes. “Has anyone explained what I do here, when boys are sent to me, Stephen?” This time Stephen replied with, “No, Aunt Jane. I was given a train ticket and told your name, nothing else.” It was Jane’s turn to nod her head before saying, “Then maybe I better explain what I do before telling you of our plans.”

“Stephen, the boys who are sent to me are boys who aren’t really bad, even though they ended up standing before Judge Ruth. They made bad decisions. They are also boys who would not fare well in juvenile detention. They would become the punching bag of the center, or worse. When the boy arrives he is most often cocky, arrogant, and full of himself. He often thinks he will skate by while here, though he learns differently a short time later. Do you know the worst fear most boys have, Stephen?” Jane sees Stephen thinking about her question before he replies, “Most probably being embarrassed.” And Jane saw the light go on in Stephen’s face as he added, “Jenny! A boy caught dressed in girl’s clothing. That’s how you do it, change their attitudes. You don’t give them a choice, they are forced to wear the clothing. But how do you force them into the clothing?” Jane chuckled at Stephen’s answer and question; he is as sharp as Betty said.

Jane then asks, “Have you heard of Petticoat Punishment?” Jane sees by the look on Stephen’s face that he’s searching his memory before shaking his head, no. She then says, “Petticoat Punishment first came about in the Victorian era, as a way to control unruly boys. They would be forced to dress as girls, act like girls, with the fear hanging over them of being seen as they are dressed. And because of the fear, they change their behavior. They start acting more ‘civilized’ instead of like a wild animal.”

She then tells Stephen, “Marie and I don’t give them a choice, Stephen. After the boy arrives at my home, we have dinner. Then we have a celebratory toast with wine because of the arrival of the boy. What the boy doesn’t know is that his wine is laced with a sleeping draught, which causes him to become sleepy and wanting to take a nap; the long train ride also helps tire out the boy. Once the boy is asleep in the bedroom we provide, Marie takes all of his male clothing and leaves a female robe lying over the back of a chair in the room. After a period of time, I go wake up the boy, who is completely naked. You can imagine his reaction when he lays before an adult woman while completely naked.” Stephen just smirks thinking about how the boy would react, likely quickly covering himself with the nearest sheet or blanket.

“I do not react to the boy’s nakedness but tell him to follow me downstairs to my Study,” Jane said as she continued telling Stephen. “He will then ask about his clothes, where there are and what he is to wear. I then point to the female robe lying across the back of the chair and tell him he can wear the robe. This upsets the boy, since no boy wants to be seen wearing girl’s clothing. After he protests, I tell him he can come downstairs wearing the robe or nothing, it was up to him. I leave the room and the boy will end up downstairs wearing the robe. I have my ward sitting on a bench outside my Study, and she tells the boy he should wait until Jane calls for him. What my ward then does is to engage the boy in conversation, telling him some of the rules, what is allowed and some of what is not allowed. Most boys listen to her, putting their own ideas into their own heads, which causes them to be more confused and scared.” Jane picked an apple out of a nearby basket, handed it to Stephen and tells him to give it to the rone. She tells him to just hold his hand flat with the apple in his palm. After the rone took the apple, Stephen rubbed its muzzle, and the horse pushed its muzzle into Stephen’s hand as he did. Stephen walks back to the hay bail and Jane continues after Stephen sits down.

“Boys who come here have a routine they follow, an attitude they try and use to show how big they are, and are hiding their true feeling behind all of that. We use confusion and fear of being found out to reeducate that boy, show him another way to live, one that frees him from the plaster he has put over the pain he carries. And we do this by having him explore his feminine side, completely. He goes to a salon and experiences everything a girl would when she visits one. He is even fitted with a corset in order to give him as near the waist size a girl would have. He is then dressed as a girl at that salon and goes through routine changes of dresses here at my home. He learns how to take care of his hair and how to properly apply makeup. And he also must do school lessons, designed for his level of education. We use words as rewards and punishments, never anything physical, it is most likely something the boy has experienced all too often where he came from. I said I would tell you why to call me Aunt Jane. After a time, most of the boys do have a change in attitude and demeanor. When they first arrive I tell them they may address me as Ms. Thompson or Aunt Jane, and most address me as Ms. Thompson in the beginning. But when they start addressing me as Aunt Jane, we know a change is starting to take place. They are beginning to see a new way to live and act.” Jane stops speaking when Stephen drops his head and starts laughing; he has a lovely laugh, when he does.

Stephen was laughing so hard he had tears running down his cheeks. He wipes his cheeks before telling Jane, “The plan that’s been devised is to have me become a girl, one of your wards. Isn’t it?” Jane chuckles at Stephen’s deduction and says, “Yes, Stephen. Our plan is to hide you in plain sight as a girl, one of my wards. Betty was right, you do have a sharp mind.” Jane watches as Stephen stands up and walks back over to the rone, who was still standing at the door to its stall. Stephen wraps his arms around the big horse’s muzzle before she hears wracking sob coming from the boy. She stands and walks over to Stephen, hugging him, again, as he continues to cry. Jane thinks to herself, ‘This boy is carrying as much pain as Jenny is carrying. He needs our help badly.’ As she hugs Stephen, she asks, “Is it the last young girl you saw murdered?” Stephen only nods his head, and continues to cry. The rone never moved, it let itself be held, and let Stephen use it for comfort. Horses are smart, afterall.

When Stephen had cried himself out, Jane led him back to the hay bails, then went into the stable office and came back with two bottles of bottled water. Stephen was wiping his eyes when Jane handed him one bottle and opened the other for herself. “Stephen, yes, we want you to become a girl. But more importantly, we want to keep you safe until everything is settled, and you can get on with your life. And, after seeing how you related to Jenny today, I want you to do it so you can help bring Jenny out of her shell. What you saw on her face at dinner was the first genuine smile she has had in the two months she has been with us. And the same is said for the laughter. Even the enthusiasm she showed as she explained her interests to you is new. You reached Jenny in a way Marie and I have not. Please, for Jenny’s sake, allow Marie and I to show you your feminine side. Please allow yourself to experience something few boys would ever consider.” She laid a hand on Stephen’s arm then said, “Stephen, after everything you experienced since the age of three, you need Jenny as much as she needs you. I can also teach you to ride, if you would like.” Stephen looks up and looks at the rone before asking, “Does she enjoy someone riding her?” As he nods at the rone.

Jane takes the empty water bottle from Stephen, stands and walks into the stable office, dropping two empty water bottles into a recycling bin. She comes out of the office carrying two fresh bottles of water and says to Stephen, “Come, Stephen, there is more of my property I want you to see. And maybe you will tell me all of your story.” Stephen is still looking at the rone, a big mare who just looks back at Stephen, as though she’s saying to him, ‘I feel your pain’. Stephen looks up at Jane standing before him and tells her, “Maybe you’re right, Aunt Jane. Maybe it’s time someone besides me and Betty know the whole terrible truth. And maybe you can teach me how not to allow all those memories to control my life, even though I can’t forget any part of it.” Stephen stood up, took the bottle of bottled water Jane held out to him, and walked with Jane towards the opposite end of the stable; it was bright out after their time in the subdued lighting.

As they walked along, down one of the trails throughout the property, Jane kept her own counsel, trying to give Stephen the room he needed to volunteer giving her his story. And he started with, “It’s a convoluted story,” and this time he said, “Jane.” Being called just by her first name was not lost on Jane, but she understood his reasons. It was because he trusted her, felt close to her, believed she actually cared about him. And she did actually care about Stephen. Cared so much she put her arm around his waist, pulled him into her and told him, “When we are alone, I will allow you to address me as Jane. But when others are around, or we are with others, it will be Aunt Jane. Okay?” She told, and asked, Stephen, getting a chuckle out of him before he replied with, “Okay, Aunt Jane.” Stephen somehow made Jane feel several years younger, and she hip bumped him for his cheekiness in answering her. They both laughed, and continued to walk on.

“Jane, it is a very convoluted story,” Stephen started with. “There is information Betty and I found in the attic of the Webster house when I was three years old. Information that came from three journals we found hidden in one of the old trunks, when we were looking for more books I could read. Information that proves the last hundred or so years has been a perversion of what originally occurred a little over two hundred and fifty years ago. It’s also a story you might not want to hear unless you can control your mind better than I control mine. There is not a night I don’t relive everything I witnessed, relive every murder, and wake up crying. The hour and a half I slept on that train was the most peaceful sleep I’ve had in years. If, after all I’ve said, you still want to hear it all, then I’ll tell you everything.” Both were quiet as they walked, Jane thinking about what Stephen just told her.

They just entered a wooded area, as they walked, and Jane steered them to a bench just off the trail they’d been on. They both sat, and were quiet for some time, listening to the birds and other sounds that inhabited the wooded area, before Jane told Stephen, “Stephen, it is not so much that I would not sleep well after hearing your story. I would not sleep well knowing how hurt you are and how much help you need in order to deal with all you have experienced. I would lose sleep in trying to devise a way to help you become the strong man I see in you, not the broken one sitting beside me now. I truly believe if you explored your feminine side you would learn a way to deal with all the demons you can never forget. Demons, up to this point, that have held control over your life and your feelings. Demons which you shook for an hour and a half hours on that train, proof they can be contained.” Stephen was quiet for some time after everything Jane just said. Then, without preamble, Stephen started telling Jane everything.

* Stephens’ Story *

“As I said, Jane, the story is rather convoluted,” Stephen began. “I can’t tell you about some parts until I tell you about other parts. What I experienced is pretty straight forward, but why it happens goes back to what Betty and I read in the three journals we found.” Stephen stopped and wiped his eyes, trying not to see the look on Rachael’s face just before her ‘father’ murdered her. There was no fear in her eyes, just straight, unadulterated hate. Contempt for those standing before her and allowing everything done to her to occur. And then…

Stephen stood up and walked a short distance away from Jane, stabbing at his eyes the entire time. “That STUPID FUCKING BASTARD,” he yelled, dropping to his knees and sobbing. He never felt Jane’s hands on his arms, pulling him up and guiding him back to the bench. He wasn’t aware that she was holding him as he cried so hard he was actually screaming. ‘My God, how was it possible for this boy to endure all he witnessed for so long without going mad?’ Jane thought to herself as she held Stephen. It was some time before Stephen cried himself out, and again realized his surroundings. He gently pushed away from Jane and looking into her eyes said, “Oh Aunt Jane, I’m so sorry for all this. I’ve hurt for so long, it just came out.” Jane pulled his head back to her shoulder before she told him, “I understand Stephen. The language you used I will not excuse, but the rest I do. You’ve had a great weight on your shoulders for far too long, and it was inevitable that it all came out at some point. Do you feel up to continuing your story?”

Jane felt Stephen nod his head, as he again gently pushed away from her, wiping his eyes and nose as he did so. He opened his bottle of water and almost drained it in one drink. He cleared his throat several times before he again started telling Jane everything.

Stephen was looking at the ground as he again began the story with, “It’s probably best just to start with the journals and then come back to the last seventeen years. I guess I’d better tell you how we found them in the first place, which will be when I was three. And I guess I’d better tell you why we were up in the attic in the first place, which will be from the time I was born until I was three.” Stephen smirked and turned to Jane and said, “I did tell you this story is a bit convoluted.” All Jane said was, “Tell the story in your own way.”

“You have to understand, Aunt Jane, every marriage and birth for the last one hundred, or so, years were The Family Obligation marriages and births. Love played no part in either one. When a Webster girl turned eighteen, and a Dorman boy turned eighteen, they were married. And she was expected to be pregnant within the next few days after their marriage. It was the same when a Webster boy turned eighteen and a Dorman girl turned eighteen. And if one of the head Mrs. became pregnant, then the other head Mrs. had to become pregnant. It was The Family Obligation. They would even put their own children up for adoption, if both births produced a child of the same gender. And they had a real easy way to determine which child was put up for adoption, by the flip of a coin. That meant the head Mrs. whose baby was put up for adoption had to get pregnant as soon as she could, The Family Obligation. It didn’t matter if she was so exhausted from carrying the child and/or birth, when her body could get pregnant, she got pregnant.” Stephen stopped and drank the rest of his water, the empty taken from him and replaced with a full bottle.

He opened the fresh bottle of bottled water and took a sip, put the cap back on and continued with his story. “When we are born, we are immediately turned over to our nannies. In a sense, they become our mothers. The only times we see our birth ‘mothers’ is when it’s necessary for the whole family to be together for some big wig event. Once our roll at that event is finished, we are ushered out of there and back to the house. Other than those events, we never see our birth parents. Oh, our birth ‘mothers’ do participate in a way. They have to express their breast milk until their bodies stop producing milk, so we get that milk until we start on solid foods.” Stephen unscrewed the cap on his bottle of water, took a sip, and replaced the cap before continuing.

“Betty became my mother. She was up with me when I was sick or had colic. She fed me, changed me, played with me and taught me what a mother would teach her child. But I was different, and Betty started noticing it when I was about six months old. She says I learned to roll from my stomach to my back sooner than other babies. I even started standing up sooner, and walking. It was one time when I was six months old and Betty had me sitting in her lap as she read me a story, that I took my finger and started pointing to the words as she read them. It wasn’t long after that I started reading to her.” Stephen chuckled, remembering that time. “My annunciation and pronunciation was horrible, but she understood what I was saying as I read. And the more I read the better I became, until I was actually reading better than some first graders. And faster too.”

“Betty took me out one day, supposedly for clothing, and after shopping, we went to a friend of hers where I was tested.” Stephen again chuckled remembering that day. “When they tested me, they used a chart for a child of six months old. When they scored my test, I didn’t register on the chart. I was so far off the top of that chart they couldn’t get an accurate measurement. And they didn’t have any other charts handy. Betty took me again when I was a year old, and the same thing happened. But they got smart. When I turned two, Betty took me again. By this time I’d been reading anything I could get my hands on from the library in my room. It didn’t matter the subject. When they tested me this time they used a chart for an adult, and almost fainted when they saw the results. They said I scored like a freshman in high school, and had an IQ of 160.” Stephen looked at Jane and saw the skeptical look on her face, and told her, “It’s what they told Betty, Jane. She also told me not to let the families know how smart I was. She said some years before I was born, there was a boy like me, and the families found out, and used him up by the time he was ten years old. His nanny went into his bedroom one morning, the day he would have turned ten years old, and found him hanging from the clothes rack in his closet. She told me to act like every other kid my age when we were around others.”

“By the time I was three, I’d read everything in my library and had completed all the learning material from first grade to third grade; Betty thought it best to follow the levels. And we needed more for me to read, so we went up into the Webster family attic to see what we could find. We found several real old trunks, some with old clothes in them, some with pictures, and some with books. We were looking through this one trunk, and Betty must have tripped something while searching that truck, because a panel suddenly opened. Inside that hidden compartment we found three journals, each covering fifty years. One journal covered the very day the Webster’s and Dorman’s met. And how they met.” Stephen unscrewed the cap on his bottle of water, took a longer drink, before replacing the cap.”

“Jasper Dorman, the seventeen-year-old son of Jonas and Martha Dorman, had gone out early one day to hunt for enough meat to last their family for the week. He was about two miles from his home when he heard the faint screams of a girl and her calling for help. He’d been hunting since he was thirteen and knew from first hand experience how dangerous it was to run into the woods without knowing what you were running into. He cautiously hurried towards the sound, and slowed when he was close enough to see a girl high up in a tree. He also heard a chuff sound that reminded him of his near fatal mishap a few years before. A bear was near where the girl was up in that tree, and from the sound of breaking branches, it was trying to climb that tree to get at the girl. Jasper had been lucky to come towards that area down wind, or things might have been very different. He was also lucky in that there were several big bushes that concealed him as he approached. As quietly as he could, he pulled back the hammer of the rifle he carried, and watching where he put his feet, crept up to the bushes and found a spot which afforded him a clear view of the bear. He quietly stuck the barrel of his rifle through the opening he was looking through, and when the bear was standing tall, to try another climb, he squeezed the trigger, hitting the bear in the head. When the crack of the rifle sounded, and the bear dropped to the ground, the girl let out a startled scream, until she saw Jasper walk out from behind the bushes.”

Another bottle of water was offered to Stephen, he smiled at Jane and told her, “Thank you.” He drained the one he had, handed it to Jane, cracked the cap on the new one and drank more before continuing the original story.

“While Jasper came out from behind the bushes, he didn’t approach the bear, the mistake he made some years before. That bear hadn’t been dead and came to, and had it not been for the 45 revolver he carried, he would have been killed. No, he just stood near the bushes and counted to 100. The foolish girl wanted to climb back down that tree and get home, but Jasper told her to stay put. The way the journal told it, they had a right heated argument about her coming down and Jasper bluntly telling her to stay put. She really got upset when he cussed at her and told her he’d shoot her himself if she didn’t stay put. When Jasper reached 100, he pulled his 45 from the hostler, cocked the hammer and slowly walked towards the bear lying on the ground. The bear was lying on its side, which gave Jasper a good view of its head. He stopped six feet away from the bear and put another round into that bear’s head, this time with the 45.” At this point Stephen started laughing, and received a strange look from Jane.

Stephen laughed a little harder because of Jane’s expression, before asking her, “Jane, how would a girl be dressed some 250 years ago? Remember, she was up a tree and she had to climb down.” It took only a moment for Jane to remember how girls dressed during those times, or see the predicament the girl was in and why it was rather funny. When Stephen had calmed down a bit, he went on with the story.

“The girl told Jasper that he was to walk away while she climbed down the tree, so he wouldn’t see anything he shouldn’t. Jasper gauged the girl’s height from the ground, and told her that bear had broken all the branches up to seven feet above the ground. And since she wasn’t seven feet tall, how was she going to get down the rest of the tree if he didn’t help her? It was funny reading that part of the journal, Jane, those two went round and round before Jasper agreed he’d turn away while she climbed down to where the branches were broken, before helping her the rest of the way to the ground. When she reached where all the branches had been broken, she expected Jasper to be looking up to try and see what she was wearing under her dress. Instead, she saw Jasper looking down at the ground, and his arms extended to about a foot from where she stood on a branch. He told her to step into the palms of his hands and use the tree to balance herself, while he lowered her to the ground. And the whole time he kept his eyes looking at the ground. He really made an impression on the girl by doing that.”

“When the girl was back on the ground, Jasper was about to chew her out for being so far from home, until he spotted a basket lying near a berry bush a short distance away--she had been gathering berries when the bear arrived. He walked with her to the berry bush, where she picked up her basket, and while Jasper was with her, picked berries until the basket was full. All the time she was picking berries, they talked, Jasper finding out her name was Mary Webster and she was seventeen years old. And, he found her quite pretty. It was getting late in the afternoon, when her basket was finally full and her parents would be worried because she was late getting home. So Jasper told her he’d walk her home to keep her safe. In the journal there were parentheses around, ‘and she had a smile that made the sun look dim.’ The two chatted the entire two miles back to the branch in the path they were on, taking the right path which led to Mary’s home. By the time they reached her home they were smitten with each other, and it showed when they stopped at the front gate of her home.”

“Mary’s mother, Sarah, had been sweeping off the front porch when the two approached the front gate; she stopped sweeping and watched the two. William, Mary’s dad, had just come from the barn and had taken a few steps onto the porch when the two had stopped at the front gate; he walked on over to Sarah, standing with her and watched the two. Both watched as Mary kissed the boy on the cheek, before opening the gate, taking the boy by the hand, and he her’s and walked up to the porch. Mary introduced Jasper Dorman to her parents, then explained why she was late, and how Jasper killed the bear, and helped her out of the tree. Her mother gave her a startled look but Mary reassured her that Jasper had been a gentleman the whole time.”

Stephen removed the cap on the bottle of water he held, before taking a long drink. After replacing the cap he told what happened next. “When Mary finished her story, Sarah dropped the broom onto the porch, before grabbing Mary into a tight hug. While holding Mary, she about tore Jasper’s arm off as she shook his hand. William almost tore Jasper’s arm off and crushed his hand, as the two shook hands. They invited Jasper into their home, but he told them that bear would make some fine meals for his family, so he had to go and dress it out before bringing home the meat. He thanked them for the invite, was about to say ‘bye’ to Mary, but didn’t get that far as Mary walked up to him and kissed him on the lips. William and Sarah looked at each other, and just nodded to each other. Mary had found herself a beau. While holding Mary’s hand, and before Jasper left, he asked William and Sarah for permission to see Mary again. Both agreed, how could they not. This young man had saved Mary’s life, and she was smitten with him.”

Jane interrupted Stephen by asking, “And you remember all of this from fourteen years ago?” Stephen dropped his head, and answered with, “Yes, Aunt Jane. And a lot more I wish I could forget. You see, Aunt Jane, I have an eidetic memory. And I can’t forget anything I read, see, or hear.” He became somber for a moment, long enough for Jane to understand the burden this boy had been carrying since the age of three. And he was still sane. Stephen wiped his eyes before going on with the story.