This chapter covers how Skipper finally gets Jennifer and Beatrice to accept his transition to Beverly.

They organise a Fancy-dress Party and Skipper tells the girls that he is going to dress up as Beverly.

However, Skipper is somewhere between a Transvestite and a Transexual insofar as she wants to live and pass as a woman with real breasts but keep her boy bits. I hope you readers like this chapter for it covers a lot of stuff about acepting a mother's roll and the affection and intimacy that fall to a mother. It dwells upon Skipper's deep fears about being somehow accused of Paedophilia and how he finally manages to surmount them.

Sandie and Mrs Bodkin provide essential support and chaperone duties as Skipper struggles to become a mother to the girls.

THERE IS NO ABUSE!!!. I don't do abuse.

Happy reading.

---

---

 

Thursday dawned bright but chilly. October is always an unpredictable month. One can sometimes enjoy a late warm ‘Indian Summer’ but alternatively one can catch an early frost. This morning was frosty and I studied the silvered fields behind Sissy’s hotel as I slowly remembered where I was. I studied the sky through my hotel window as Sissy arrived with a tray of breakfasts and I protested at her unnecessary effort.

“There’s no need to have done that. I was just coming down.”

“Don’t worry. You’re the only resident here. I’ve brought up my breakfast as well. Reception is quiet because it’s midweek in October. It’s usually quiet this time of year. The chef has taken this week off because we expected it to be quiet. I knocked this up myself. He’s not back until Friday dinner time and I’ve got no other guests, just you and me.

We shared the breakfast as we discussed Skipper’s plans. Sissy was itching to hear the plan.

“Well. Come on then. Let’s see you in your uniform.” Demanded Sissy.

I dressed as requested and she studied me.

“Your shape’s definitely changed. Here, give me your jacket and trousers. I’ll make a few adjustments. Don’t worry, I make lot’s of my own clothes.”

I followed her down stairs in my lacy underwear and she took my measurements. She frowned as she examined the jacket and eyed my bust.

“D’you know Bev, I reckon you’re nearly a ‘C’ cup. I envy you but this jacket will need a bit of work.”

With my measurements in her purse she told me to wait and she disappeared off to a local haberdashers. She returned with some suitable material then went to work with her sewing machine. Within an hour, she had adjusted the waist and hips on my trousers and relocated the double line of brass reefer buttons on the jacket. She also cleverly inserted two discreet darts in my jacket and when I finally tried it on, it fitted me pretty well. My newly developed curves were not too obvious, and the jacket felt much more comfortable.

“Well now aren’t you a picture.” Giggled Sissy.

I gave her a twirl and she frowned.

“You’d better not wear those panties. I can distinctly see a scalloped lace panty line when you bend over.”

I bent over in front of the mirror and studied my butt.

Sissy was right. There was no mistaking the heavily scalloped lacy frill of my favourite - and quite expensive-, panties. Now that my butt was softer and more rounded, the re-tailored uniform trousers stretched more easily and formed a tight pair of moons around my butt cheeks. The lacy frill of the panty line was quite obvious and erotic.

‘Hmmm,’ I thought, ‘now I see how the VPL is so pronounced in girls in trousers.’ It was quite obvious and very provocative. If I’d been a girl on the pull it might have been exciting to show it under a stretchy pair of tight fitting trousers or more preferably, leggings, but I was trying to pass as a sea captain. The panties had to go.

Reluctantly I returned to my bedroom and changed from my favourite panties into a pair of high-waist long legged ‘Spanks’. I also changed my frilly bra to a plain white one that would not show under my camisole that I wore under my uniform shirt. I still liked soft and silky next to my skin. Though the ‘Spanks’ felt nice and I savoured the stretchy comfort they offered whilst still enabling me to ‘tuck’. I returned downstairs for Sissy’s inspection and finally passed muster.

“Just don’t take your jacket off and you might just do it. You should really get yourself some thicker linen uniform shirts.”

Thus armed, I shared lunch with Sissy then set off to buy some presents for Skipper’s homecoming. By four o’clock, I was driving my hire car up the lane towards the cottage.

I did not need to toot my horn. Jenny and Bea had been on tenterhooks and they exploded squealing from the house as my car rounded the bend in the lane.

“Skipper! Skipper! Hoorayeeee! Skipper! Skipper’s home!!”

They were jumping and shrieking with glee as I finally got out of the car. The two frenzied girls hit me like a pair of torpedoes then demanded to be taken into my arms. I bent down, scooped them up and squeezed them emotionally as Sandie emerged from the house. She smiled as she watched the scene for it was obvious the girls were ecstatic. With my arms full of squirming, excited girls I laboured through the door and plonked them down.

They continued dancing frenziedly for several minutes until they finally calmed down. Then they joined me on the settee and flung themselves onto my knees. Sandie emerged from the kitchen with tea and biscuits and we settled down around the coffee table as I related a total fantasy about my supposed last voyage and awful car accident that had so changed my face.

(I had to show them my supposed scars under my hairline where the surgeons had repaired my face.)

I kept it as brief and simple as possible, just describing the ports and the dates, which I knew to be true from the ship’s schedule. Then I intimated that I had a few presents in the car and the girls started prancing eagerly for me to go and get them.

“So what’s this about somebody’s birthday on Saturday?” I asked.

“It’s mine,” declared Bea, “I’ll be eight. We’re having a fancy dress.

“Oh. Can I come?”

“Of course!” Shrieked Bea and Jenny in unison.”

“Oh good. Who else is coming?”

Jenny and Bea went through a list of people and I just nodded approvingly.

“It sound’s like it’s going to be fun.”

The girls became impatient, and demanded to see their presents so I capitulated. We bundled back to the car and gathered several boxes. Back in the house the girls rifled eagerly through the boxes and made loud exclamations of joy. Most of the presents were clothes and for the rest of the evening the two girls gave Sandie and me an impromptu fashion show. By nine o’clock, the girls were exhausted and were reluctant to go up and bath. Sandie was reluctantly forced to put her foot down and order them.

“Come along now girls. Just because Miss Beverly is away seeing to her aunt, you still have to take a bath. We can’t let standards drop.”

Reluctantly, the girls trooped up to the bathroom and played desultorily in the bath.

“What’s wrong now?” Asked Sandie who had had no trouble the previous evening.

“Can Skipper bath us?” Asked Jenny.

“Are you sure you want that?” Checked Sandie.

“Please.” Added Bea.

Sandie came and told me about the request.

“D’you think it’s wise?” I asked her.

“They seem to want it and it’s painfully obvious to everybody that they are ecstatic to have you back. They are obviously enchanted with you. Mrs Bodkin is absolutely right. I’ve never seen so much ecstasy in two little girls.”

“Well I think you’d better be there as well. You know, chaperone, the usual stuff.”

“Don’t worry. I had every intention of chaperoning.”

“For all our sakes,” I added.

“Exactly.” Finished Sandie.

“I’ll have to take my jacket off and roll up my sleeves. My breasts are quite noticeable.”

“Well kneel down as you take your jacket off. I’ll take it from you and hang it over the chair. If you remain kneeling, they won’t see your breasts below the edge of the bath.”

For want of a better strategy, we adopted this tactic. It worked well and I successfully lathered their hair. After rinsing their hair I held out the warm towels and invited them out of the bath as I held the warm fluffy towels out in front of me. Then I passed each girl to Sandie. The spread of the towels hid any embarrassing mounds under my uniform shirt and as soon as both girls were engrossed in drying their hair, I grabbed my jacket.

“That went ok then,” observed Sandie after we had each carried one of the girls in their nighties and dressing gowns down stairs.

This remark went over their heads, but I couldn’t help noticing Bea pressing her head against the soft pillows of my breasts just before I put her down on the settee. They settled in their usual positions on the armchairs by the fire and commenced drying their hair as they watched television. I seized the chance to speak privately to Sandie in the kitchen.

“How am I doing so far?”

“Couldn’t be better. They’re delighted with you and I’m very pleased with the bath time routine.”

“You mean, they’ll maybe not object when Miss Beverly returns.”

“Exactly. If they’ll let Skipper bathe them then that’s a major hurdle.”

I sighed with relief. And Sandie mirrored my feelings.

“It’s not easy is it?” She said.

“You’re telling me! Come on let’s make their chocolate though I could handle a stiff brandy later.

“Are you going to read them a story?” Pressed Sandie.

“Oh without a doubt!” I bought a child version of Moby Dick in town this afternoon.”

“Oooh. That’s a bit gruesome.”

“Yeah but it’s about ships and the sea. They’ll expect something like that from Skipper.”

“Well we’ll try the first chapter and see.”

“Don’t worry. This is a child’s version. The gruesome bits have been fairly weeded out. I’ll get through it in a night”

I showed Sandie the children’s book. She studied it briefly then nodded with relief.

“Oh yes. This is OK. I was just thinking of the pirates thing. D’you think Bea’s idea of a pirate queen has anything to do with her experiences?”

“I hope it’s got more to do with the Story Beverly’s been reading them for the past week or so. I’ve been using the book to see if any nautical stuff induces trauma or fear. To tell the truth I think Bea would probably make no connection between Hook’s galleon and whatever craft the Somali butchers used to attack their yacht. We can’t keep filtering out every child’s story because of what happened to them. I mean what if they let them read ‘Peter Pan’ in school. I’m trying to make their childhood as normal as possible.”

Sandie nodded with a thoughtful expression as she stirred the chocolate. We returned to the living room and chatted with the girls until their hair was dry. Finally bedtime rolled around. I read them Mob Dick, (the children’s version), and they soon fell asleep.

As soon as they were asleep, I made my own way to bed in one of the spare rooms. The tension of the day had exhausted me. I bid goodnight to Sandie across the landing and fell asleep as my head hit the pillow.

The girls searching for Skipper’s bedroom woke me on the Friday morning. I heard Sandie telling them where I was and waited for the anticipated invasion. I did not know what to expect but was pleasantly surprised when two shy smiling faces popped around the door and asked if they could climb on the bed. I nodded and they eagerly bounced in with Sandie close behind. I was glad of her company. Jenny and Beatrice clambered on the bed and tentatively pushed their toes under my duvet. I glanced questioningly at Sandie who nodded her thoughtful acquiescence. This was a critical event and I was paralysed with uncertainty.

“Girls would you like to cuddle up to Skipper?” Asked Sandie.

The girls nodded shyly and dug their feet a little deeper under my duvet. I felt inquisitive toes fetch up against my knees and then relax slightly. Somehow, the girls somehow knew not to come too close to the more evocative areas. Sandie sensed my relief and placed herself on the bed as some sort of benchmark delineating the girls search for intimacy.

They settled with their toes against my knees and their bodies just pressing gently against my rounded hips. I was glad that they had stopped at this point.

‘Small steps’, I kept silently repeating to myself, ‘small steps, slowly’.

Once the ‘line’ had been established, Sandie sensed the moment. She rose up off the bed and declared that the girls had to go to school.

“Ahh. Do we have to?” They cried.

“F’raid so girls.” Replied Sandie.

They turned pleading to me.

“Can’t we have the day off Skipper? You’ve only just got home.”

“Oh come on now girls. It’s only one day and then we’ve got the whole of half term. A whole week.”

“Will you be staying here forever now?” Asked Jenny.

I answered truthfully. “Not all the time. I still have to relieve Mac occasionally on the ship, but I won’t be away so long in the future.” It won’t be more than two weeks and only once or twice a year. Jesse will soon be ready to take over as second captain. D’you remember Jesse?”

The girls nodded as Jenny wrinkled her brow. “I thought his name was Gus.”

“Well, it is really, but some call him Gus and some call him Jessie. “Mac is Scottish and in Scotland a jessie means a man who is weak willed or feeble, like a sissy, or a coward. Mac called him Gus because that’s Jessie’s second name and then the rest of the crew started calling him Gus. Anyway, I’ll be here for most of next term, OK?

Now that they were reassured, they slipped from under the duvet and skipped joyfully to their own bedroom to get ready for school. Sandie remained briefly on the bed.

“Well. How did you feel about that?” She asked me.

“Nervous. Jenny kept poking me as though testing my skin. I think she’s puzzled that I’m much less muscular then I used to be. I think she’s a bit puzzled by the softer curves. She used to hug me on the ship all the time. I suppose it was some sort of search for reassurance after the experiences she suffered.

She also used to hug Supan, the third mate, because he was the one who actually plucked them from the sinking life-raft, so she knows how muscular men are. There’s also her father of course, I’m sure she would have lain in her dad’s arms when younger.

After my hormones, I’m as soft and cuddly as a woman now so she must be slightly bemused.

“Well, we’ll just have to tread carefully. Come on, get up.”

I was dressed in men’s silk pyjamas so I stepped out without any fear.

“Who gets to use the bathroom first?” Asked Sandie.

“You go,” I replied, “I’ll get breakfast ready.”

“D’you want me to take them to school?”

“Yes. I think that’s best. The less Skipper is seen, the less he’s noticed and the less questions are asked.”

“And what about Miss Beverly?” Asked Sandie.

“She’s well established. The school thinks she is the primary carer; well actually she is and Skipper will receded further and further into the children’s background. Just like he will in my life.”

“Yes that seems the best route because it should satisfy all interested parties.”

I grinned as I replied.

“Oooh you’re lovely, you put it so romantically. Interested parties eh? Why not just say ‘the family’ Professional jargon makes it sound so cold.”

Sandie grinned for she realised I was giving her a gentle wind-up. With the brief discussion over, the children were taken to the bus and Sandie returned to help with preparations for the party. Later that day, Mrs Bodkin arrived and Sandie declared that she would leave after the children had returned from school. When we had been shopping together on the Tuesday, Sandi and I had bought some clothes identical to Beverly’s. This was to be her disguise. She also bought a permed wig in the same style as Beverly’s still short hair to complete the ensemble.

“You can use my makeup and scent.” I offered.

Sandie nodded agreeably. There was no need to waste money.

All went according to plan but the children were a little upset that Sandie was not coming to the party. They sulked briefly after Sandie left but their mood slowly brightened up as the preparations for the party progressed. Mrs Bodkin and I kept them occupied in the kitchen, as cakes, trifles and jellies were prepared.

Sandie was curious about my ‘other life’ so as a professional exercise, she took a room at Sissy’s hotel that Friday night. There she was free to study the clientele who clubbed there on Friday nights. She later told me that she fell to talking with several other transvestites in the hotel lounge away from the noisy beat of the club downstairs. It helped a bit with her understanding of transvestism but it had been hard getting them to open up. Over the phone on Saturday morning we discussed any last minute arrangements and she then discussed her previous night’s experiences with my various transsexual friends at Sissy’s hotel.

“You guys don’t give much away, do you?”

“We’re frightened,” I replied, “we are afraid people will take advantage of us, or assault us or worse, in some cases, blackmail us. It’s worse than being gay these days. Believe me; you have to earn a trannie’s trust. I suppose it’s seen by some homophobes as an attempt at a disguise and that carries an implied threat. Trannies often get beaten up.”

“They didn’t seem threatening to me. I fact they were all rather nice people. I was a bit disappointed really, not one of them made a pass.”

“Trannies rarely do if they’re dressed. They usually wait for the women to make any moves and even then they’re cautious, especially if they’ve been round the block a few times. If a woman’s interested in trannies, she might have some sort of kink or personality disorder. I know most of the girls at Sissy’s. They’re nice people but most of us are very circumspect about relationships. Did you meet Bridget?”

“Yes.”

“Now that’s what you call passing,” I remarked enviously.

“Indeed, I thought she was Sissy’s daughter at first, and a very beautiful daughter.”

“Well she’s a post op and that is what a successful transition can look like. She was very lucky. She lived in Holland as a child and Dutch society is just so much more advanced than Britain. She was on hormones or anti androgens from aged twelve. Just look at her now!”

“Yes, she’s stunning and her figure is utterly feminine.”

“Did you notice the other tranny’s eyes following her every move?

“Yes. I noticed that. It amused me because it was a sort of mix between lust and melancholy. It intrigued me and I chatted to her and her companion for quite a time. Her companion was there as well, she’s a transvestite who also passed rather well.”

“Yes, that’s Petra. He’s a very smart guy when out en-homme and they make a stunning pair when out dressed ‘normal’, He owns a large hair-dresser's in Bournemouth. I won’t tell you his real name because he hasn’t fully come out yet. They are trying to adopt as well.”

“Oh. Good luck to them. They can certainly have a reference from me. They were an enchanting couple. They entertained me all night and kept the predators informed of my status. That helped a lot and stopped the sex getting in the way. Well now to the party. Is there anything else I need to bring while I’m still here in town? Anything we’ve forgotten?”

“No. It’s pretty well fixed. What time are you coming?”

“I’ll be there soon. I’m all dressed now and I’m just dying to be there when you cross over.”

“OK. See you.”

-o~O~o-

Sandie arrived at about ten. She had been up early and taken a lot of care with her disguise. I had to confess she looked utterly realistic for she had to cover up her stunning good looks. She pretended to have a sore throat so she couldn’t talk properly and she pretended she had caught it from her poorly Aunt. Jenny and Bea were completely fooled and Mrs Bodkin found it hard not to burst out laughing. Bea’s pirate queen outfit was a great success but Jenny was broken hearted to discover that her old tutu was too small.

I smiled and tapped my nose knowingly as I took her to the car and produced a brand new tutu complete with various trimmings and silver hair to make a very respectable unicorn outfit. Jenny cried with happiness and relief then hugged me tight as she repeatedly thanked me.

Remembering Mrs Bodkin’s instructions about female tactility I took the plunge. I lifted her in my arms and cradled her like a baby as I gave her a long kiss on the cheek and whispered.

“Did you really think Skipper world forget something as important as your outfit?

She squirmed and hugged me around the neck as she planted a sloppy immature kiss right on my lips. My heart flipped with delight and I stood by the car for long moments with Jennifer cradled in my arms just savouring our developing relationship. ‘If this is what having kids could feel like, BRING IT ON! I thought.

“Now,” I said, reluctantly spoiling the moment, “are we going to dye your hair or do you just want sprinkle dust to glitter?”

Jenny’s eyes widened with surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“Well I spoke with Mrs Bodkin and Sandie yesterday. We decided that you could dye your hair. It’s only a one off and it’ll be at least a week before you have to go back to your natural blond. It won’t do any damage just for this once.”

With this exciting prospect, everybody gathered in the bathroom as Jenny had ‘Beverly’ (AKA Sandie,) and Mrs Bodkin help her dye her hair. I just watched and smiled and Jennifer kept wanting to turn to look at me as though requiring an opinion.

“Will you stay still!” demanded an exasperated Sandie as she carefully applied the gunk to Jennifer’s hair. “If you don’t stay still I’ll get it on your ears and you’ll have silver ears as well.”

“What like the magic rabbit of Ethray in Watership Down?” Giggled Jennifer.

“Just be still or I’ll get Skipper to do it. Then you’d be silver all over.”

“We all chuckled at this but eventually, Jenny got the message.”

The process turned out to be easy. Jennifer’s naturally ash blond hair proved easy to dye and she stared nervously in the mirror when the job was complete. I had to admit that after Sandie had trimmed and shaped Jennifer’s waist-length hair the silver mane was very effective on such a young child. Sandie had ‘feathered’ her long hair perfectly and it closely resembled the silver mane of a unicorn.

“Gosh it looks weird!” Giggled Jenny.

“Oh dear, I thought it looked good,” observed Sandie

“Oh yes, yes it does cried Jennifer as she moved quickly to take away Sandie’s hurt.

“Jennifer winked at me and rooted in the presentation box that the outfit came in.

“You’ll have to use this makeup we bought to get a suitably pale complexion. The princess in ‘The Last Unicorn’ looked very pale.”

With her hair complete, Jenny and Mrs Bodkin commenced experimenting with the makeup and the silver horn while Bea and Sandie (AKA ‘Beverly’) joined me in my ‘Fancy dress’ make over.

“What are you going as?” Begged Beatrice as I started to take off my jacket.

“Just you wait and see. Go and see how Jenny’s getting on with her unicorn horn. I’ve got stuff to see to and I’ll call you when I’m ready to start. It’ll be a real surprise.”

Beatrice scampered eagerly to their bedroom to see how her older sister was getting on and I turned to Sandie.

“Do you really want to see everything?”

“I am a doctor. I’ve seen it all before.”

“OK then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I stripped down to my panties and bra in a flash as Sandie stared wide-eyed. Then I turned away momentarily as I changed from my plain panties to a more flamboyant frilly pair. Then I asked her to help me with the matching bra and she gasped.

“My God! Your breasts are as big as mine!”

“Gee thanks. That’s the nicest thing you could say.”

“No really. They are really nice. Are they all you?”

“Yes. Why d’you want to check.”

“No. It’s just that they are so -, well, firm and bouncy. You’re what fifty five, fifty six?”

“Fifty five and thanks. I suppose it’s because they are new, like a teen-ager’s.”

“Crikey. I’m jealous. I hope mine are like that when I’m fifty.” Her eyes then drifted to my smooth crotch.

“Are you wearing a cache under your panties?”

“Yes. We don’t want any mistakes. OK, peep show over. Which camisole should I wear, the teal or the blue.”

“Oh the blue. I’m wearing teal. Let’s not make that faux pas. Anyway, your panties and bra are royal blue. It’s a lovely colour.”

Having agreed on the colour, I slipped the silky camisole over my shoulders and clipped the matching suspender belt around my waist. Finally I slid the stockings up my legs and stood up for inspection.

“Does this look OK?”

“Gosh yes, you look exactly like a youngish fifty year old woman.”

“Right, I think the best thing we can do now, is invite the girls in and they can see Skipper disappear as the hair comes down, the frock goes on and the makeup brings Beverly alive again.”

“Well. It’s make or break time now. How do you feel?”

“Terrified. I think it’s best if they find me sitting down in front of Beverly’s dressing table mirror. Go and get them and ask Mrs Bodkin if she wants to witness the end of Skipper.”

Sandie nodded and stepped down the hall to the girl’s room.

She signed to the girls that I was ready to say who I was going to be.

Two pairs of feet thundered down the hall and burst into ‘Beverly’s’ bedroom. I thought they would stop and stare fearfully but instead they only hesitated then stepped forward to find out what was going on. Sandie was right behind them and finally Mrs Bodkin entered and stood at the back by the door.

“What are you doing?” Asked Jenny as she fingered one of the makeup tubes.

“I’m dressing up as Beverly.”

“As a girl?” Asked Bea.

“Yes.”

“Is that allowed?” Asked Jenny. Can we pretend to be different?”

“Well your different, what’s this?”

I wiggled the horn on her head as I asked and she giggled.

“It’s my unicorn horn.”

“And what is a unicorn.”

“It’s a -, it’s a kind of horse, with a magic horn.”

“Exactly! Well you can’t get much more different than that can you. In fancy dress, anybody can be what he or she likes. Now are you going to help me?”

Jenny studied the array of makeup then smiled as she giggled.

“OK then. You’re funny.”

With this first hurdle over, I explained to the girls how I was going to make my face look like Beverly’s and they watched wide-eyed as I applied my make up. They kept glancing between Sandie and me as they tried to compare my ‘Beverly’ with the seemingly real ‘Beverly’ standing by the window. Finally, I slipped some hidden pins from my hair. It tumbled down to my shoulders and both girls gasped. They didn’t realise that ‘Skipper’ had had his hair pinned up under his uniform cap for all the time he’d been home. When I gently brushed out the perm, Jenny gasped as she fingered the soft waves.

“Crikey! Your hair is just like Beverly’s. How did you do that?”

“Ah! That’s a secret.”

Jenny was so incredulous that she tugged at my hair.”

“Ow! Stoppit! That’s not nice!”

“Ooh. Sorry. Honest Skipper! I thought it was a wig.”

“It’s not a wig. It’s my real hair.”

Jenny looked puzzled then looked again at Sandie. I decided to distract her but it was obvious that she was getting two and two to be four.

“Will you help me put a frock on?”

She looked at the frocks laid out on the bed and tugged thoughtfully at her lip.

“Which one?”

“Well. It should match my camisole and slip so I think blue. What do you think?”

Jenny stepped towards the bed and fingered the array of frocks It was obvious that she recognised them as the ‘real’ Beverly’s frocks. She glanced questioningly towards the ‘real’ Beverly still standing by the window and still pretending to have a sore throat.

Sandie nodded encouragement so Jenny picked out the blue frock that exactly matched my petticoat. She carried it over and I stepped graciously into it. Then I turned as the ‘real’ Beverly had often done and asked her in the ‘real’ Beverly’s voice to button me up the back.

The sudden transition from Skipper’s deep sonorous voice to Beverly’s soft alto caused Jennifer and Bea to gasp. As I finally slipped on my heels and smiled at the girls, Jennifer stared long and hard at my face.

I sensed she was finally beginning to realise who Beverly actually was. The confusion danced across her eyes as she kept staring at Sandie then returning to peer into my face. Finally she plucked up the courage to hazard her guess.

“Are you really Beverly?”

“What do you think sweetheart?”

I stretched out my arms and wiggled my fingers invitingly as Beverly often did and Jenny tentatively reached out for them. Then I took her two forefingers and tugged them towards me. This was favourite move of Beverly’s and Jenny recognised it instantly. This finally removed any lingering doubt from Jenny’s mind and I watched the dawning realisation change from curiosity to a wide excited smile. She squealed with delight as she turned to her younger sister.

“It’s Beverly, Bea! Don’t you see? Skipper is really Beverly!”

“Who’s that?” Demanded Bea as she pointed towards Sandie.

Jenny suddenly remembered the other ‘Beverly’ and released my hands as she stepped over to examine the woman by the window. Suddenly, as she peered closely with the benefit of the window’s daylight she realised that the other ‘Beverly’ had slightly different greener eyes.

As a nine-year-old, Jenny was a little more au-fait with appearances than her younger sister and she realised that only one person in our coterie of friends had eyes that colour.

“Your eyes, - - - Is it Sandie? She asked uncertainly. “Are you Sandie?”

Sandie smiled and nodded as she carefully unfastened her wig to reveal her normal hair. Jenny let out a squeal of surprised ecstasy and stood transfixed as she tried to decide where her real allegiances lay. She turned to Mrs Bodkin as the final arbiter.

“Is Skipper really Miss Beverly?”

Mrs Bodkin nodded as she studied Jenny carefully for any signs of rejection or disappointment.

“So Skipper’s really been here all the time?”

Again Mrs Bodkin nodded, still uncertain of Jenny’s reaction.

Sandie was also watching the developments like a cat watches a mouse.

Ready to address any trauma or grief that might ensue. I however, was attending to Beatrice who had now climbed upon my lap and was investigating my face and hair. At long last, Beatrice was beginning to realise who Beverly actually was.

She sat on my lap for long minutes just looking at me while Jenny asked more questions. The first problem was of course my gender. Jenny was trying to decide what I was and she kept pumping me.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

“I prefer to be a girl, to live as a lady and now I dress as one.”

“Is that why you -, you’ve got boobies and your skin is -, softer?”

“That’s right. I really prefer to be soft and gentle.”

“Now that you’ve changed into Beverly, are you going to stay like that?”

“I hope so, if you and Bea will let me.”

Jenny fell silent for long moments as a tear slowly leaked from her eye.

“I liked Skipper. He was kind and brave.”

“Well Skipper is really still here darling. Skipper is here inside my head.”

“But he’s gone, hasn’t he?”

“Skipper can come back occasionally if you want, but he prefers to be Beverly now, and he’s happy as Beverly.”

“Will you look after us like Skipper? Can we still live in Skipper’s house? Who will pay for us now?”

Sandie and Mrs Bodkin both chuckled at this and Mrs Bodkin stepped in.

“Oh my darling Jenny. Try and understand. Skipper isn’t dead. Skipper still exists it’s just that Skipper prefers to live as Beverly. Every thing that Skipper owns is also Beverly’s. The house, the ship, and everything are Beverly's.”

“So Beverly is really like sort of two people all wrapped up in one body.” Deduced Jenny.

Sandie was about to explain in more detail but Mrs Bodkin gently tapped her arm and whispered just loud enough so that I could make out her advice to Sandie. “Don’t complicate it. I know you want to try and help, but both children are already in over their heads. Jenny’s got the jist of it. Anything else might confuse her and confusion might distress her. When she’s older and asks deeper questions, your turn will come.”

“Now there goes an older, wiser head,” I thought.

Jenny turned as I answered her query.

“There’s more of Beverly than Skipper inside me darling. But Skipper is inside my head and will come out if you want him to. Beverly lives in my whole body. She likes Skipper and she won’t chase him away but Beverly is the soft, warm person that you like to hug and cuddle in the mornings. She will always be here for you and Skipper will be watching from inside my head to see that you’re always looked after. Don’t worry about the house or the money. Skipper and I will always be here for you. Skipper will be watching me as Beverly to see that I don’t make any mistakes, and you’re quite right, Skipper is very brave and very sensible. More importantly, Skipper will always be here, inside my head.”

My subtle change to the first person singular when speaking for Beverly was, I hoped, a subtle step to reinforce my situation without isolating or antagonising the girls. Mrs Bodkin and Sandie seemed to catch the idea and we waited with baited breath for Jenny’s response.

“So you’re going to be our mummy then?” Pressed Jenny.

“I can’t replace your mummy darling. But I can look after you just like a mummy would. Sandi and Mrs Bodkin will also be here to help you if you need them. All you have to do is pick up the phone.”

“Ooh. Am I going to get a mobile phone then?”

I hesitated. Jenny was only nine. A mobile phone seemed a bit far advanced. I glanced at Mrs Bodkin with a questioning raised eyebrow. She nodded ‘yes’ over Jenny’s head. I therefore assented.

“Yes. You can have one for Christmas. It’s only a couple of months away.”

Even at this crucial juncture, I was not prepared to spoil the girls and shower them with presents. Jenny let out a whoop of joy and leapt onto my lap almost displacing Bea as she landed hard against my still tender growing breasts.

“Oooff! Be gentle darling. You’re getting a big girl now. Be gentle when you jump on me like that. That hurt me.”

I was rubbing my sore breasts and Jenny looked at me with surprise as she realised the swellings under my frock were real.

“Oh! Sorry. You’re a girl now.”

She gently pressed her cheek against my breasts and ‘kissed them better’ through the material.

I glanced nervously towards Sandie and Mrs Bodkin but they didn’t seem worried so I let both girls nestle against my soft pillowy breasts. If I was going to live as a woman and a mother, this was the degree of tactile comfort that the girls could rightfully expect. I would talk to Sandie and Mrs Bodkin about it later. For the moment, I decided, the best course was to allow both girls the maximum amount of comfort and reassurance that I could give them. After all I had two excellent chaperones to give advice if any issues surfaced. I glanced in the mirror of my dressing table to catch Jenny and Bea exchanging a secret little smile and that gave me reassurance as well. Sandie spotted the smile as well, so she motioned to Mrs Bodkin and they quietly slipped out of the room.

“Are you happy then girls?” I whispered softly.

“Mmmm. You’re really nice Beverly,” declared Bea.

“And we’re glad you came back for the party.” Added Jenny.

“Right then. Shall we go down stairs then? There’s lot’s to do.”

“You haven’t finished my unicorn tail and mane,” cried Jenny, “the horn is still loose.”

“Ooh yes. Sorry I forgot in all this excitement. Where is the tail?”

“Sandie brought it up this morning. It’s in our bedroom.”

“Well go and get it. We’ll have to sow it on before you can go to the party.”

Jenny scampered away and I carried Bea downstairs. She was still staring at my appearance so I hugged her again and kissed her cheek to reassure her. She fingered my jaw and realised there was no trace of a beard and she smiled as she pressed her own cheek against it to make absolutely certain.

“Shall I call you Beverly or Skipper?” She asked shyly.

“I would prefer Beverly. Would you mind calling me Beverly?”

She smiled sweetly and nodded as she hugged her arms around my neck. I felt I had made one certain conquest.

Jenny, Sandie and Mrs Bodkin had gone into the kitchen were the light was best and every body fussed as Jenny stood on a chair and we fixed her mane and tail. Mrs Bodkin forced me to sew the tail onto Jenny’s butt whilst she stood and watched. Jenny stood on the kitchen chair with her hands holding on to the chair back and her body bent over presenting me with her bum. Mrs Bodkin held up the multiple hems of the skirt to allow me to work uninterrupted. I was both tickled pink and enchanted as I had to push my finders nervously under the bottom of her silver tutu and then hold the material away from her bum as I pushed the needle in and out. As I was finishing the last few stitches Sandie entered the Kitchen and watched silently as a smile spread across her face.

When we had finished Jenny stood upright on the chair and preened herself whilst she admired her image in the mirror through the dining room door. By now I was red-faced and blushing as Mrs Bodkin grinned her explanation.

“Now that’s the degree of intimacy you’ll have to get used to! Can you see why children need absolute trust?”

I nodded my head thoughtfully and let out a deep breath.

“I’m only glad I had two chaperones. Why didn’t one of you sew the tail on?”

“That’s a mother’s job. Get used to it,” finished Mrs Bodkin.

Then Sandie chipped in and lightened the conversation.

“We’ll have to get somebody to write a ballet for you Jenny and then you can be the unicorn princess ballerina,” laughed Sandie as Jenny smiled and swished her tail as she span. She lost her balance and I grabbed her just as she fell. Her fingers clutched at my arms and she gasped with relief as I supported her. I noticed her test the texture of my skin again and it was obvious she was still making her mind up about who I was. As I steadied her again I gave her a little hug and a gentle kiss just as Beverly always had when they were going to bed. She recognised the familiar gesture and reciprocated eagerly.

“Thanks for saving me Beverly. Did Skipper help Beverly move so quickly? Like he’s inside Beverly’s head and watching out for her.” She asked softly.

I nodded tearfully. I couldn’t have explained the relationship between Beverly and Skipper better!

A huge load lifted itself from my shoulders. For now at least, both girls were calling me Beverly.

Finally both girls were ready for the fancy dress. Sandie and I looked like the Beverly twins with me in royal blue and Sandie in turquoise. Mrs Bodkin had dressed highly appropriately as a fairy godmother. The table was groaning with food and we waited for the other partygoers to arrive.

Margaret and Sian had also joined in the spirit and arrived as a policewoman who had caught a cat burglar in a very provocative cat suit comprising leotard and tights. When I saw them I chuckled and whispered to Margaret, “I hope you’re not the ‘strip-o-gram’.”

“Or the ‘skipper-gram’,” she shot back. We both fell apart laughing and the others looked strangely at us. Margaret and Sian had been discreet however, and arrived well before the other parents and their children. They had arranged to stay overnight with their two children Martin and Chenille.

Then the other parents started arriving with their children and the house was soon echoing to the shrieks of assorted, fairies, princesses, mermaids, super-heroines, animals, spacemen, cowboys, soldiers and superheroes.

We adults were run off our feet but I was delighted that neither Bea nor Jenny once referred to me as Skipper. So familiar had Beverly become to the girls in the previous two months that Jenny and Beatrice had automatically reverted to the old norm once I was back in Beverly mode. They never called me Skipper once. Sandie however, was always called Sandie by the girls but that only reinforced my and ‘Skipper’s’ anonymity.

When the parent’s arrived to collect their children, Margaret and Sian stayed discreetly upstairs and none of the parents recognised Martin and Chenille as their children. Night had descended and the last party game had been ‘Jack O’lantern’ played with flashlights in and around the darkened old barns. The kids had a high old time.

When the parent’s arrived to collect their charges, the children were wild with excitement and definitely wanted to play all night. All in all, each child declared Beatrice’s party a raging success as he or she took their leave.

By nine o’clock that evening, sleep had finally overtaken Bea, Jenny, Chenille and Martin. We had to carry them up stairs for the sleep over that had been planned for the four of them. Finally, we adults slumped down exhausted on the settees and armchairs by the huge log fire in the living room.

“Well ladies. A success I think.”

“Most certainly,” agreed Mrs Bodkin.

“Shall I splice the main-brace?”

“What a good idea,” declared Margaret, “mine’s a ‘Gee and Tee’.

I took the orders and returned with the tray of drinks as we chatted and planned for the girl’s future. Finally we made our own ways to bed and smiled to each other as we heard the children giggling in the bedroom. Unable to resist the temptation, we all sneaked a silent peek at the children and found them telling ghost stories with the beds pulled together. They were all under the one big duvet and were so engrossed in their stories that they hadn’t even heard the door catch go ‘click’. I cast a worried glance towards Mrs Bodkin about the three girls sharing the beds with Martin the boy but she poo-hooed my reservations. In the hall she explained.

“Don’t worry, nothing much will happen, the oldest girl is only nine years old and they’re all pretty naive.”

“How can you tell?” I asked curiously.

“I knew they were having a sleep over so I’ve been watching the four of them all night. They’re too young and innocent. It reflects well on you, Margaret and Sian that none of the children are sexually precocious. Let them enjoy their sleepover. Anyway, the girls will soon let us know if Martin crosses the line of decency and I doubt if he’d get away with it, he’s only seven.”

My shoulders sagged with relief and Mrs Bodkin gave me a little hug.

“Don’t worry Beverly. You’re doing OK. The girls are a credit to you.”

Sandie nodded her agreement and smiled. We bid each other goodnight and made our ways to our separate bedrooms. As I passed Margaret and Sian I heard them chuckling softly and I envied them their companionship.

‘It must be nice to share a bed with another woman’, I reflected. 'But then, what woman would want to sleep with a weirdo like me?' I sighed.