At Aunt Greta's 14—Booby Trap!

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At Aunt Greta’s–
Booby Trap!
by Gabi

Chapter 14 of a Continuing Saga…

We finished our pud and were clearing the dirty crocks to the kitchen when the ’phone rang. ‘I’ll get it, Auntie,’ I said, putting the pudding bowls on the counter above the dishwasher. I hurried to the ’phone and lifted the handset.

‘Hello, nine-four-nine-seven-six-three.’

‘Gaby? This is B-Bryony. I’ve t-told Mummy and we’re g-going to see D-Dr MacNeish after tea.’

‘Oh, Bryony, I’m sooo happy for you. So your mum was okay?’

‘Yes, she was s-s-sooooo k-k-kewl, Gaby. She’s actually s-suspected I might be trans-g-g-gendered for a while.’

‘So you didn’t need to worry about telling her then,’ I replied.

‘N-No, b-b-but I’d never have b-b-been able t-to d-do it without help from you and F-F-F-Farah.’

‘I don’t think we did much, girl. It was you who decided that you had to speak out. All we did was to listen to you and make a suggestion or two.’

‘Mummy th-thinks it would be nice for me to wear g-girls’ clothes when we v-visit the d-d-doctor, so we were wondering if I could b-borrow a sk-skirt and top from you?’

‘No, prob. We’re about the same size and I’m sure there’s something that would suit you.’

‘Thanks, Gaby, you’re a real friend. Mummy’d like to speak to your auntie. Here she is.’

‘Hello, Gaby, it would be so kind if Bryony could borrow something nice to wear when we visit the doctor’s after tea. I’m going to take her shopping, but I can hardly take her to buy clothes wearing her boys’ things.’

‘That would be sooo embarrassing for her, Mrs Rose, so I’d love to lend her something. I’ll just get Auntie for you. Hold on a mo.’ I put the handset down on the table and went to find Auntie. She was loading the dishwasher with Farah handing the crocks to her.

‘Auntie, Mrs Rose is on the ’phone and would like to speak to you. Bryony has told her about herself and they’re going to see Dr MacNeish after tea.’

‘Excellent. Will you finish loading the dishwasher and set it going for me?’ she asked, wiping her wet hands on a piece of kitchen roll.

‘’course,’ I replied as Auntie went to speak to Bryony’s mum.

‘So Bryony told her mom?’ Farah asked.

‘Yeah, and she wasn’t at all surprised. She wants to borrow a skirt and top for their visit to the doctor.’

‘That’s great; Bryony’s gunna be sooo cute when she can be her real self. Maybe they’ll go to the mall to get her some cool gear of her own.’

We finished loading the dishwasher, set it going and then went through to the sitting room where Auntie was just replacing the ’phone handset on its rest.

‘Helen Rose is bringing Bryony round in about twenty minutes,’ she told us, ‘and your mum is coming round as well, Gabs. Now, girls, why don’t you go and change out of your school uniforms and put on something more informal. Your dad left a sports grip containing a change for you, Farah; it’s up in Gaby’s room.’

* * *

We scampered upstairs to my room to change. Farah’s grip was on my bed; she unzipped it and pulled out her camo Bermudas. ‘Those Bermudas are sooo kewl,’ I said, looking enviously at them.

‘You can borrow them if you like and I’ll wear something of yours,’ she offered.

‘Wow, could I? Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure; I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.’

‘So what’d you like to wear of mine?’

‘Could I borrow your plaid skirt?’

‘Plaid?’

‘You know, Scotch check.’

‘Oh, tartan. Yeah, sure. Actually it belongs to my cousin Kate who lives in Scotland. She left it behind after she stayed last time.’

We had changed and were going back downstairs when the front door bell rang. ‘That’ll probably be Bryony and her mum,’ I said.

I opened the door to Bryony and Mrs Rose; Bryony was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a polo shirt which clearly showed her budding booblets. With her hair in a high ponytail she certainly looked more girl than boy. ‘Come in,’ I said. ‘Wow, you look really nice, Bryony.’

She smiled, gave me a hug and said, ‘Thanks, but I’d feel comfier if I was wearing a skirt rather than these boy jeans. Wow, your camo shorts are sooo kewl.’ This was a new, non-stammering, more confident Bryony, sounding like the girl she truly was inside.

‘They’re Farah’s,’ I replied. ‘She let me to try them to see if I like them. I’m hoping Mummy’ll buy me a pair.’

‘She looks real cute in them, doesn’t she, Bryony?’ Farah added as Mrs Rose followed her daughter into the hall.

‘Gaby dear, it’s so kind of you to agree to lend Bryony a skirt for our visit to the doctor,’ Mrs Rose said as I held the sitting room door open for her.

‘That’s all right, Mrs Rose. I’m glad I can help. I realise she won’t have anything of her own yet, so is there anything else she’d like to borrow, like undies? I’ve got several brand new pairs of knickers I haven’t worn yet if that’d help.’

‘I w-was w-wondering ab-bout that,’ Bryony answered, her nervous stammer returning. ‘It w-w-would b-b-be s-so emb-b-barrassing t-to und-dress in f-front of the d-d-doctor if I was wearing b-b-b-boys’ ones.’

‘I’m sure Dr MacNeish wouldn’t mind,’ Mrs Rose remarked. ‘She’s very understanding, you know.’

‘But I-I-I’d f-f-find it emb-b-barrassing, Mummy.’

‘They’re brand new, still in their John Lewis packet,’ I said.

‘In that case, Gaby, thank you; it really would help a lot,’ Mrs Rose admitted. ‘We’ve got to go to John Lewis anyway, so we’ll replace them as soon as we’ve been there.’

At that moment Auntie came in from the kitchen. ‘Hello, Helen,’ she said. ‘Is Gabs taking care of you?’

‘Yes, she’s being really helpful, Greta.’

‘And you must be Bryony,’ Auntie said, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘You’re a very pretty girl, my dear.’

‘Thank you, Miss Chambers,’ was the polite reply.

I glanced up as I heard the sound of a latch-key being fitted in the lock of the front door, so I went to investigate; the door opened to reveal my mum.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said, opening her arms and offering me a hug. ‘What’s that you’re wearing?’

‘Hi, Mummy,’ I replied, throwing my arms round her and giving her a hug. ‘Farah’s Bermudas; she said I could borrow them coz I said how kewl they are. She’s wearing Kate’s tartan skirt. Mrs Rose and Bryony are in the sitting room with Auntie and Farah.’

‘Hi, Mrs Chambers,’ Farah chirped as we joined everyone in the sitting room. ‘Glad to see you again.’

‘It’s nice to see you again, too, Farah. My, that tartan skirt suits you. How was your first morning at an English school?’

‘It was real neat. I enjoyed it.’

‘Hello, Bryony,’ Mummy said. ‘Your mum said you’re going to see Dr MacNeish later and you’re going to borrow a skirt from Gaby.’

‘If I may, please, Mrs Chambers.’

‘Of course you may,’ Mummy replied, ‘and I think Gaby could spare you a pair of her knickers; we bought rather a lot at John Lewis recently, so I’m sure there are still some that she hasn’t worn yet.’

‘Gaby’s already offered us a pair, Peggy,’ Helen Rose replied. ‘I must say she’s a very thoughtful girl.’

‘She’s always been a good girl, even if she was rather too much of a tomboy,’ Mummy said, winking at me. ‘Take Mrs Rose and Bryony up to your room, poppet, so they can choose a nice skirt and top for Bryony to wear to the doctor’s.’

* * *

Up in my room I showed them what I had, and Mrs Rose held several things up against Bryony before anything was tried on.

‘So, which do you like, darling?’ Mrs Rose asked.

Bryony was standing in front of my long mirror holding my knee-length denim skirt to her waist. ‘I think I’ll go for this skirt–it’s nice and swirley–with a pink top,’ she replied.

‘Which pink top?’ I asked.

‘This one,’ she replied, picking up the pink short sleeved blouse that Auntie had bought for me at Next. ‘It’s pretty and I like the butterflies on it.’

‘Okay,’ I said. I’ll leave you with your mum and you can get changed.’

‘Oh, Gaby,’ Mrs Rose said. ‘What about panties?’

‘Oops sorry, Bryony,’ I said, and keeping a straight face added, ‘You must have wondered if I thought your name was Nicholas!’

Mrs Rose looked at me blankly; Bryony also, for about one second, then she exploded into a giggle fit which was so infectious I couldn’t help giggling too. Mrs Rose continued to look at both of us blankly.

‘Mum-meeee, honestly,’ Bryony exclaimed, ‘You are sooo thick sometimes. Nicholas–knicker-less, without any knickers on?’

At last Mrs Rose smiled. ‘Oh, yes, darling, I get it now. Very clever, Gaby, well done.’

I pulled open my knicker drawer and took out an unopened pack of panties. ‘Here you are, Bryony, choose whichever colour you fancy. Oh, and I’ve got a spare pink scrunchie that goes nicely with that blouse; you can have that as a prezzie if you like.’ I went to my dressing table and took the pink gingham scrunchie from one of the drawers and handed it to her.

‘Thanks, Gaby,’ Bryony replied. She had already opened the panty packet and taken out–you’ve guessed it–a pink pair.

‘How about socks?’ I asked seeing she had bare feet in her brown sandals. I fished out a pair of white knee-highs and passed them to Mrs Rose.

‘Thank you, Gaby,’ she said as I opened the door to return downstairs. ‘You have been such a help.’

‘No prob.,’ I replied. ‘I’m glad I could help.’

‘Did she find something she liked?’ Farah asked as I re-entered the sitting room.

‘Yes. A denim skirt, my nice swirley knee-length one, and the pink blouse Auntie bought me at Next.’

‘That sounds very suitable, and sensible,’ Mummy said. ‘She’ll find it easier with a slightly longer skirt until she’s used to wearing them.’

‘She’s worn girls’ clothes before,’ Farah said. ‘She told us that she often wore them when she stayed with her cousin in the country.’

Shortly afterwards we heard hurrying feet coming downstairs and Bryony entered, grinning broadly. She looked really good and there seemed to be nothing boyish about her. Budding booblets pushed out the pink cotton of the blouse and the denim skirt came to within an inch of her knees.

‘Oh wow,’ Farah exclaimed. ‘We meet the real Bryony at last. You are just sooooo cute, girlfriend. Give us a twirl.’

Bryony twirled, and I was sure it was not the first time; her skirt flared giving a glimpse of thigh and her ponytail swung out jauntily.

‘You look amazing, Bryony,’ I said, then added, ‘Doesn’t she, Mummy?’

‘Quite a transformation,’ Mummy remarked, just as Mrs Rose came in. ‘Helen, I must congratulate you on having such a beautiful daughter.’

‘I must say, I’m surprised because I’ve only seen one photo of her in girls’ clothes. She’s the spitting image of her cousin Penelope–my twin sister Brenda’s girl–they could easily be twins.’

‘Penny and I were born the very same day, so we’ve always thought of ourselves as twins,’ Bryony added.

‘I think your cousin Penney would be rather pleased if she could see you now,’ Helen Rose told her daughter. ‘The last time we visited the Farthings she whispered to me that she wished you had been born a girl.’

‘But I was born a girl, Mummy, except I got the wrong body. Penny always told me I’m more like a girl than a boy.’

‘Well, you sure don’t look like a boy,’ Farah said, ‘and you’re so much cuter than my friend Nora back home in the States.’

‘Really?’ asked a blushing, beaming Bryony.

‘Yeah, really. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. Everything about you screams G-I-R-L, Girl.’

‘Farah’s right,’ Auntie Greta added. ‘You are a very pretty girl, Bryony.’

‘Thank you,’ replied the brightly-blushing, beaming Bryony.

‘And now,’ Mrs Rose announced, ‘Before your head becomes so swollen due to all these compliments, I think we should be going, because I would like do some shopping for some more clothes for you before we go to see Dr MacNeish. Thank you, Gaby and you Peggy for helping us out; we appreciate it very much.’

‘That’s no problem, Helen,’ my mum replied. ‘We are only too pleased to have been able to help, haven’t we, Gabs?’

‘’Course,’ I said. ‘And good luck at the doctor’s, Bryony.’

‘Thanks, Gaby–for everything,’ Bryony replied, giving me a hug. ‘And you too, Farah.’

‘You’re welcome, girlfriend,’ Farah replied. ‘You take care, do you hear?’

We all went to the door to see them off and Farah and I escorted them out to their car. Bryony got in the front very elegantly, sitting down first, then swinging her knees round to preserve her modesty. We waved them goodbye as Mrs Rose drove off and then returned to the house where Farah and I went back up to my room. Everything had been left neat and tidy.

‘I hope everything goes okay for Bryony when they visit the doctor,’ I said. ‘It’s not going to be easy for her pretending to be a boy at school and only being a girl at home and the weekends.’

‘Nora stayed as a boy at school until the summer vacation and started at school as a girl in the fall, after spending the whole summer as a girl, full time. She had quite a lot of problems at the start of the semester with a lot of unkind remarks and teasing. She was tearing up all the time until the bullies got tired of it.’

‘Poor girl,’ I sympathised. ‘Bryony even gets teased as Bryan, just because he’s rather girlie, so when she eventually comes to school as Bryony it’s gonna be really hard for her to start with.’

‘Well, us girls'll just have to do all we can to help her,’ Farah replied.

* * *

‘Do your seat belt up, sweetie,’ Helen Rose said as Bryony slammed the car door shut.

‘Aren’t we too early to go to the doctor’s?’ Bryony asked.

‘Don’t you remember I said we were going shopping first. You can’t keep wearing Gaby’s things, so we have to get you some girl clothes of your own.’

‘But s’pose someone from school recognises me dressed like this? They’ll tell everyone that they’ve seen me out shopping wearing a skirt and top and I’ll be dead meat.’

‘Don’t worry, darling, I don’t think anyone would give you a second glance; you look just like any other eleven-year-old girl. Anyway, we’re not going to our normal shopping centre; I thought we’d go and see what the new Westlands Retail Park on the other side of town has to offer.’

‘Okay, then,’ Bryony agreed, feeling easier in her mind.

It only took fifteen minutes to drive there. Helen Rose parked the car and the two of them headed for the shops. ‘We can’t be too long, Bryony sweetheart, as we have to be at Dr MacNeish’s surgery at five fifteen, but we’ve time to get you your own undies and a few other things.’

‘Do you think I should have a bra?’ Bryony asked. ‘Both Gaby and Farah wear them.’

‘Yes, I think you should. I was surprised how much your breasts had developed. You should really wear one all the time; you’d find it much more comfortable.’

‘But, Mummy, I can’t wear one to school if I’m going on being a boy there for a while; everyone would notice it and laugh at me, ’specially boys like Wayne Bates.’

‘Maybe we could get you some sort of crop top to wear like a vest,’ Helen Rose replied, thinking out loud. ‘That probably wouldn’t show under your shirt. Come on, let’s go in here.’

Bryony looked at the shop name and knew her mum usually bought her own undies from a branch nearer to home. They headed for the girls’ department where they were greeted by a sales blonde assistant. She was, Bryony thought, about thirty and quite pretty for such an old lady.

‘Good morning, ladies, how may I help you,’ the assistant said, showing a friendly, if toothy smile; her name tag said she was called Pearl White.

‘We’re looking for my daughter, Bryony’s, first bra,’ Helen Rose stated.

‘You have such a pretty name, Bryony, and very suitable for so pretty a girl,’ Pearl White said, flashing her sparkling gnashers. ‘Your first bra, eh? A very important day for every girl, honey. I can remember when my mum took me to be measured for my first bra. If you and your mummy would like to follow me, we’ll see what we can do for you.’

Bryony felt herself blushing as she followed Ms White into the fitting room. She looked at her mum and smiled, earning a reassuring squeeze of the hand in response.

‘Would you like to measure her, madam?’ Ms White asked, offering the tape measure she had hanging round her neck, ‘or would Bryony be willing to let me do it?’

Bryony blushed and her mum said, ‘I think I’d better do it, Ms White. She’s a bit shy yet.’

‘Of course she is,’ replied the assistant, smiling sympathetically at Bryony. ‘Just call me back when you’re ready, and please call me Pearl.’

‘We will, Pearl. Right, darling, let’s see what size you need,’ Helen Rose said as soon as Pearl had closed the cubicle curtain. ‘Please unbutton your blouse.’

Bryony fumbled with the buttons, not being used to them fastening on the girls’ side. ‘Do you want me to take it right off, Mummy?’ she asked.

‘It would make it much easier to measure you, so yes please.’

Bryony complied and her mother was astonished yet again at how well developed her “son” was in the breast department. ‘Right darling let me check your bust size; below the bust first; now breathe right out,’ she said as she put the tape round Bryony. ‘This is surreal; I never thought I’d be measuring my son for a bra, she’s bigger than I was at her age,’ she thought as she checked the measurement. ‘She must have quite a high Oestrogen level. I’ll have to ask the doctor to give her a thorough check.’

‘Ooh!’ Bryony squeaked, ‘the tape’s cold.’

‘Now just hold still a minute, sweetie.’ Helen Rose tightened the tape round Bryony’s chest under her bust. ‘Can you remember twenty-seven inches, honey?’

’27. Okay. Is that it?

‘No I have to measure you around your bust now. Arms up so I can put the tape round you again.’

‘It’s still cold, and my–err…’ she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘nipples are tingling.’

Helen Rose noticed that they had stood up. ‘Soon be done, lovey. Now let me see that’s twenty-eight inches. There, that was easy, wasn’t it? Put your blouse on again now.’

When Bryony was “decent” they called Pearl back.

‘Under her bust, 27 inches and round the bust, 28 inches,’ Mrs Rose reported.

‘That will be a 32A she needs,’ Pearl said. ‘I’ll go and get some for her to try.’

‘Nothing fancy,’ Bryony said, dreading what might appear.

‘Don’t worry, hon, first bras are usually quite plain, made of cotton–and usually white,’ Pearl told her. She heard Bryony let out a sigh of relief as she left to find what was wanted.

When Pearl returned she had an armful of bras. ‘This is the one most girls choose,’ she said, flashing her gnashers and showing Bryony something that, to her, looked rather like two triangular handkerchiefs joined together with bits of tape or ribbon. ‘They come in a pack of two; would you like to try one on?’

Bryony glanced at her mum and nodded shyly.

‘I think that looks very suitable so we’ll take that,’ Helen Rose said. ‘Do they only come in white?’

‘No, they also come in pink,’ replied Pearl. ‘If Bryony would like to put one of these on, I’ll fetch a pink pair for you to see.’

Helen Rose showed to Bryony how to put her bra on and, as soon as Bryony had managed to do it, had a look at her “daughter”. ‘Well that looks just right, sweetheart; you fill it better than I thought you would. Is it comfy?’

‘Yes, Mummy,’ she replied, looking at herself in the mirror. ‘They hold them up quite well and they won’t jiggle so much when I run.’

‘I wish you’d told me about that before, darling.’

‘Well it was a bit embarrassing,’ confessed Bryony. Then suddenly her face lit up; ‘I’ve just thought–’ she giggled– ‘a bra is a sort of booby trap!’

‘I never thought of them like that,’ chuckled her mum.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Pearl from outside the cubicle.

‘Okay,’ Bryony replied, surprising Helen.

‘That looks like a perfect fit; is it comfortable?’

‘Yes, very,’ was Bryony’s instant reply. ‘Please may I leave it on, Mummy?

‘Of course,’ replied Mum. ‘Put your blouse on again and we will see the new you. Are those the pink ones, Pearl?’

‘Yes, Madam.’

‘We’ll take those too, and do you do packs of knickers?’

‘Yes, Madam, six in a pack in white or assorted pastel colours.’

‘We’ll take a pack of each.’

‘Thank you, Madam.

Bryony had finished putting her blouse on and was gazing at her image in the mirror. ‘Let me look at you, Bryony,’ Helen said. ‘Good gracious me, sweetie, you really have a good shape now. Do you like it?’

‘Ooh, yes, Mummy. ‘I feel sooo much better now.’

‘You’ll have all the boys falling in love with you now, Bryony,’ Pearl told her.

’OhMyGod, I hope not!’ Bryony thought, thinking about Heal Letwind, Master Bates and their mates. ‘That’s the very last thing I want!’

Before going to see Dr MacNeish, they had time to visit New Look to buy a few tops and two skirts, a pair each of girlie jeans and shorts, two dresses, also some socks and tights and two pairs of shoes.

When they had put all their purchases in the boot of the car, Bryony gave her mum a hug. ‘Thank you, Mummy,’ she said, ‘for helping me to be me. Now I’ve got my own things I’ll be able to let Gaby have her skirt and blouse back.’

* * *

Helen Rose got in the driving seat, closed the door, fastened her seat belt and started the engine.

‘So, are you pleased with your new wardrobe, honey?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Mummy,’ came the reply. After a few seconds she asked, ‘Mummy? what d’you think the doctor will do to me?’

‘I don’t think she will do anything much. Mostly she’ll want to talk to you and ask why you think you’re a girl. The only thing she’ll do will be to give you an examination and take some blood so it can be sent to be tested.’

‘Where will she take it from? My botty?’

‘No, darling, she’ll take it from your arm.’

‘Does that mean she has to cut me to make me bleed?’ asked an anxious-sounding Bryony.

‘She will insert a special sort of hypodermic into the vein in your arm and take it that way.’

‘You mean like an injection thingy?’

‘Yes, darling.’

‘But I hate having injections–they hurt.’

‘When I was your age, I tried not to look and often found I had been injected without my realising it. Anyway, Dr MacNeish is a very skilful doctor and she has never hurt me when she has taken a blood sample. So just be a brave girl and it will soon be over.’

‘Okay, Mummy, I’ll try,’ came the almost-whispered reply.

‘Good girl,’ said Mummy, momentarily taking her left hand off the steering wheel and patting Bryony’s knee.

Twelve minutes later they arrived at the doctor’s surgery. Helen parked the car and they walked hand-in-hand to the surgery entrance. As soon as they were inside, the receptionist looked up.

‘Mrs Rose and Bryan–ee? she said, making a hasty correction. Bryony blushed.

‘Yes. We have an appointment with Dr MacNeish.’

‘If you’ll take a seat in the waiting room, you’ll be called when the doctor’s ready for you and your daughter.’ The receptionist smiled at Bryony and mouthed, ‘Soreee!’

Bryony smiled back.

‘Your daughter is very pretty, Mrs Rose.’

‘Thank you, she is, isn’t she,’ came the reply as they headed for the waiting room.

They didn’t have to wait long, and about five minutes later they heard, ‘Bryony Rose to go to Dr MacNeish in Room one,’ over the P.A. system. Bryony reached for her mum’s hand and received a squeeze.

‘Fingers crossed?’ Mummy asked.

Bryony nodded and held up her other hand and showed her as they knocked on the doctor’s door.

‘Come in,’ called a voice from inside.

* * *

Dr MacNeish pushed her computer keyboard towards the rear of her desk and stood up as her patient entered.

‘Come away in,’ she said. ‘So this is Br-r-ryony.’ In spite of the fact that had lived in England for many years, she still had a noticable Scots intonation and r-r-r-rolled her “Rs” like many Scots “exiles”. ‘Well if I didn’t know you had a hidden wee secret, I’d never-r have known you wer-ren’t bor-rn a wee gir-rul to look at you.’

Byrony beamed at her. ‘Th-thank you d-d-doctor,’ she replied hesitantly, showing she was somewhat nervous.

‘Now, then, Mum, I’d like to have a wee wur-rud with Br-ryony on her own for a wee minute or two, if that’s all right with yew?’

‘Of course, doctor. I’ll wait in the waiting room.’

‘So, Bryony,’ Dr MacNeish, said as Helen closed the door, ‘Come and sit down over here.’

Bryony sat down, smoothing her skirt under her as she did so and looked expectantly at the doctor.

‘Now, my dear, tell me all about yourself; how long have you felt you are a girl in a boy’s body?’

‘I’ve known I’m a girl for almost as long as I can remember. I have a cousin, Penny–she’s exactly the same age as me, almost to the hour–who I often stay with her in the hols, and we always played dress-up games. From the first time I wore girls’ things, I knew that was what I should always be wearing. They just felt so right.’

‘Let me see, Penelope is your mum’s twin sister–Mrs Farthing’s wee gir-rul?’

‘Yes, doctor,’ replied Bryony. ‘Poor Penny gets teased a lot coz of being called Penny Farthing, so at her school she insists that everyone calls her Penelope. She got sooo fed up with jokes about being a bike.’

‘I bet. So you discovered you were more comfortable wearing girls’ clothes. Was there anything else that made you think you were a girl?’

‘Well, at school I’ve always preferred chatting and playing with the girls; I seemed to fit in with them and think like they did. Boys seemed so rough in the games they played. I wished sooo much I was a girl like them. It was sooo unfair that I was born into the wrong body. I’ve always had to pretend to be a boy, even though I’ve known all along that I wasn’t one.’

‘I see. So tell me, have you ever told any of the girls at school about being born into the wrong body?’

‘I never dared say anything until I discovered that Gaby had been pretending to be a boy so she could be like her brother, Tim. Though why she should want to be a BOY I just don’t understand.’

‘So you told Gaby. Does anyone else at school know your wee secret?’

‘Yes, one other girl, Farah Way; she comes from America and has a transgendered friend at the school she used to go to over there. It was she and Gaby that said I should tell Mummy. I’d never said anytyhing to her coz I thought she’d be upset.’

‘Was your mum upset when you told her? Or surprised?’

‘No, she’s been sooo kewl about it; she said she had been sort of expecting it like, for a long time and I’d thought she was going to go ballistic.’

‘So you were surprised?’

‘Yes, coz I had never told her about dressing up at Penny’s, but she had a picture of me in a dress from last summer hols. I suppose that if Auntie Brenda’s her twin they share secrets.’

‘Twin sisters nearly always do.’

‘Actually, Penny and I think of ourselvces as twin sisters.’

‘So Penny knows about your being a girl too?’

‘’Course she does. She knew as soon as I did an’ I didn’t have to tell her; she just knew.’

There was a moment’s silence and then Bryony asked, pensively, ‘Doctor MacNeish, do you think I’m transgendered?’

‘I think you could be,’ came the reply, ‘but I still want to do some medical checks, because it could be something else.’

‘Does it have a name?’

‘It does, but we won’t know until we do those checks. You might be what is called intersexed, which means that you could be neither a boy nor a girl, but something in between.’

‘But wouldn’t I have a Priscilla as well as a Percy?’

‘Not necessarily. I’ve read of cases where someone had both sets of sex organs, both male and female, but the female ones were all sealed up inside.’

‘Wow! P’raps I’m like that.’

‘It’s possible but don’t put too much hope on it. Is there anything else, you want to ask?’

‘I don’t thiiiiiink so,’ Bryony replied hesitantly.

‘Okay, then shall we ask your mum back in so I can examine you?’

‘’Kay.’

Dr MacNeish pressed a button on a microphone on her desk and said, ‘Mrs Rose, would you please return to room one now.’

There was a knock and Helen came in. ‘How did it go?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ replied the doctor.

‘So is she transgendered?’

Highly probably, from the answers she gave me, but she’ll have to see Dr Sienna Knutter at the GID clinic before we can be certain.’

‘So what happens now?’ Helen asked.

‘I will examine her, take some blood for tests and a swab from the inside of her mouth for a chromasonal check. There is a strong possibility that she might, and I stress might be intersex. Bryony will you go inside the curtained-off cubicle and undress down to your undies? Call when you’re ready.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ replied Bryony, disappearing behind the curtains.

‘Ready now,’ came the call about twenty seconds later.

‘That was quick,’ Mummy said, accompanying the doctor into the cubicle.

‘Sit on the bed, dear,’ the doctor said, ‘and take off your bra.’

Bryony glanced at her mum who nodded. She fumbled behind her back for the hooks and eyes that fastened it, and took it off. The doctor’s eyebrows shot up.

‘I’m just going to check your breasts,’ she said, gently squeezing Bryony’s booblets.

‘Good gracious, they're more developed than I would expect with a case of gynaecomastia,’ she said. ‘How long have you been wearing a bra, Bryony?’

Bryony thought for a few seconds then replied, ‘About an hour and a half.’

The doctor’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ replied Helen Rose. ‘We only bought it this afternoon.’

‘And not before time,’ said the doctor. ‘It must have been uncomfy for you, Bryony?’

‘They did jiggle about a bit.’

‘I’m sure they did,’ replied the doctor. ‘Okay, put your bra back on, dear, and drop your panties, please.’

‘Hmmm,’ said the doctor as she felt around Bryony’s crotch. ‘Okay, dear, pull them up again. All that remains is to to take a blood sample and a swab from inside your mouth. I’ll do the swab first. Open wide.’

‘You sound like the dentist,’ Bryony said.

Dr MacNeish took the swab. ‘Now I have to put on my Dracula hat,’ she said.

‘Can I shut my eyes,’ Bryony asked. ‘I hate needles.’

‘Of course you may,’ the doctor replied, tightening a strap round Bryony’s upper arm. ‘Hold still now. I’ll tell you when to open them again.’

Dr MacNeish pushed the cannula into Bryony’s arm, then took two samples in the plug-in vacuum phials.

‘All done,’ she said, removing the cannula and pressing a wad of cotton wool to the place it had been inserted. ‘Right then, get dressed again and wait outside while I have a word with your mum.’

* * *

‘What did she say?’ Bryony asked as they drove away from the surgery.

‘Well, she’s asked for an appointment for you with Dr Sienna Knutter, and she’ll let us know the results of your blood and saliva tests in a few days. Oh, and she said for your age your willie was about the smallest she'd ever seen.’

At this, Bryony blushed. ‘Oh! So, does she think I’m transgendered?’

‘She said you were either that, or you might possibly be intersexed.’

‘So that means I might really be a girl?’ said Bryony happily.

‘Possibly,’ Helen replied, ‘and she said you don’t appear to have any testicles, so she’s going to arrange a hospital appointment for you to have a catscan as soon as she's seen the results of your blood tests.’

At this latest news, Bryony’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

To be continued…


 © 2008 Gabi Bunton All rights reserved

Thanks are due to Bonzi’s Mum once again for her splendid proofing
and Kaleigh and Annette, my trans-pond teen-girl consultants.
Any mistakes remaining are the entire responsibility of the author.


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Comments

Bryony

You do such an excellent job of making us care for your characters. I am wondering what is going on here. Is there a buried old German bomb full of estrogen leaking nearby?
hugs!
grover

Ve Haff Vays of Making You…

Ve haff vays of making you…I'm not sure what, but I wouldn't have put it past the Nazis to have invented an Oestrogen bomb. What havoc that would have wrought in the balance of the population.

hugs,
Gabi

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Strange bombs

I had no idea the Germans used estrogen in their bombs!

Hugs,

Kimby

Hugs,

Kimby

Loving It

terrynaut's picture

This story continues to tug at my heart. Bryony is such a cute character! :)

I love the nickname poppet too. That is ultra cute. I'll have to look up what it means. I'm sure I can find it somewhere.

So please keep it up. Thanks!

- Terry

Poppet

Poppet is a well-known British term of endearment (my own Mum used to call me Poppet). In engineering there is the poppet valve which has a mushroom shaped top.

Glad you are enjoying it,

Hugs,
Gabi

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Paynes Poppets

Paynes Poppets have always been one of my fave sweets. As a girl I could buy them with my pocket money. What were they? little bite-sized chocolate covered raisins, mints, toffees etc., small and round they could be popped into the mouth whole and sucked or chewed. Mmmmm, I still like them.

They were invented in 1937 qnd are still going strong. See:-

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paynes_Poppets

Hilary

No Way!

You can make it to the age of 11 in Britain with never having a physical exam? I don't believe that for 14 seconds. And no one noticed the lad had no testicles? That seems a bit unlikely. I've heard some scare stories about the National Health, but usually they're made up by American companies who run HMOs.

Perhaps There's A Dr. Stein Too

joannebarbarella's picture

With the given names of Frank N.? I hope Bryony is OK at school, with those oafs lurking in the background. The only thing that surprises me is that her Mum suspected but never said or did anything about it, yet had a picture of her son dressed as a girl sent by her own twin sister. Is there a dark sub-plot lurking here somewhere? Mind you, I can't imagine what it would be. Penny Farthing! Snort,
Hugs,
Joanne

Penny Farthing

A Penny Farthing is an old fashioned bike, isn't it? So I guess is would be fussy about who it allowed to ride it. :p

I hope the young Ms Farthing will be equally prudent when she reaches her teens. :)

Hugs,
Norma

Names and stuff

The names used in this story make me shake my head. A girl with toothy smile called "Pearl White" ? I guess her superior is the clean shaven mr. Gilette ?

I'm also a bit puzzled by the doctor saying there is a "strong possibility" that Bryony "might be" intersexed. It sounds rather contradictory to me. English is not my native language, but I would expect it would either be the "strong posibility" and "may be" or else "(some) posilibity" and "might be".

Hugs,

Kimby

Hugs,

Kimby

I didn't notice that...

laika's picture

but there's a strong possibility that there's a 50/50 chance that---just maybe---you are
for all certainty correct, Kimby.
~~~hugs, Laika
.

(I still think this saga should contain a hot-tempered boy character named Adam Baum...)

Doctor's Dilemma?

Being a Scot, in my experience, Scots doctors always err on the side of caution, particularly with problems that they do come across very often, and GID and intersex are certainly of that ilk. Dr MacNeish is being cautious, (okay, Kimby, maybe OVER-cautious) because she does not want to commit herself without a second opinion.

Anyway, that's how I saw it when I wrote it.

Thanks for the comment,

Hugs,
Gabi

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.