A Strange Attraction To Concrete Cows - Part 1 free porn video

A Strange Attraction to Concrete Cows by Karen Page Chapter 1 "Charlie control, do you receive?" "This is Charlie control. Go ahead Tom." "We have a problem." "Please state the problem Tom," replied the calm reassuring voice. There was a deathly silence for a second. "It's... it's Anna," spluttered Tom. "She's run out of face cream." The rest of the drama class tittered at the quip and poor Anna had gone quite red. She wasn't a vain girl but she liked to look her best and it wasn't the first time that people had teased her about her supposed nightly rituals of face cream. "OK class, calm down," pleaded Mr Abbots as he switched on the main lights. "The bell will be going soon, but before we end for the day I just want to remind you that next week we will be starting rehearsals for the pantomime. This year we will be performing Aladdin. One slight change from earlier years; instead of me picking who plays which parts I will be looking for volunteers and the winner of each part will be voted on by the whole class. If there are no volunteers for a part, such as the dame, I will pull a name out of the hat." The whole class groaned just as the bell rang signalling the end of class and the end of another school day. I walked up the hill away from school with Anna and Erika, who lived just up the road from me. I bet the planning department thought it was quite funny placing a school at the bottom of a steep hill - pupils get to classes quickly and when they are tired from a hard days work they just rub it in with the walk home. Home was in a new housing estate just less than half a mile away so it didn't take that long. As we walked down the passageway linking the old miners houses and the new estate I noticed Erika still has a puzzled expression that she had worn since drama. "What's wrong Erika?" I asked. Erika had recently moved to England from America when her parents got transferred to head up the UK branch. We might speak nearly the same language but there were lots of traditions that she didn't understand. "Well Bill, this might sound silly but what's different about a pantomime over a normal play and who or what is the Dame?" "A pantomime is normally performed around Christmas time. It is normally a well-known children's story but performed in a humorous way. There's normally a lot of singing and very corny jokes. The Dame? Well this is the part of one of the leading ladies but is played by man dressed in drag with no attempt to disguise the voice etc. It is the last piece of humour in the play. In the case of Aladdin the dame is Widow Twanky and that is the part all boys in the class will be avoiding." "I can't get over the differences between England and America," said Erika. "The concept of the pantomime is something totally different. Schools are also different in the way they operate. For instance you have lessons described as mathematics. You don't know until you are in the lesson if you are going to be doing geometry, calculus or what. In America we have separate lessons for different flavours of mathematics." "Which is better?" I asked. Erika shrugged her shoulders, "The American method seems to be more structured but I also like the mixture you get here. It teaches maths as a single entity which ties things together earlier. I don't really mind either way as I've got good results in both systems." We trudged up to my house and a waved goodbye. As I walked down the drive I overheard Anna ask Erika what she would think of me as the Dame. I almost chocked but decided to ignore the comment. I knew nobody would volunteer and I worried that I might get the bad luck of the draw. Most classes I had at least twice a week but since drama was a minor study I had it for one hour on a Monday. I hated Mondays. I think the Boomtown Rats must have been right. Mondays only saving grace was the lesson before Drama - Music. I had known Anna for about 9 years. We had gone to playschool together before starting primary school. Over the years we had done many things such as learning to ride our bicycles and as we got older exploring the area. One of our favourite places would have been out-of-bounds if either of our parents had known. If you walked along the old canal with its stagnant waters there was a small wood that was rarely visited by anyone. The trees were slightly green towards their base and at the far side was a small lake containing mostly rushes and algae, which I had fallen into when about 7. Over the years as we had grown up together we became closer and would classify her as my best friend. People have often thought of her has my girlfriend but we were nothing like that. Over the past year I have considered asking her out on an official date to the two-screen cinema in the neighbouring small town but have always been worried that it would ruin a good friendship. We often go out as a small group of me Erika and Anna with, now and again, other females. Erika on the other hand had only been living in England for about 9 months and although Anna and I had quickly become friends with her there was not the same closeness. Maybe it was that she had grown up in America or maybe it was not having spent an entire lifetime with someone that causes this. Who knows? One thing that we did all have in common was that our fathers worked for the same American company. There were two offices in England, one here and the other in a city about 100 miles away called Milton Keynes. Erika's dad, Donald Moore, had been brought to the UK to head up the outfit when the old UK manager had retired. Anna's father, George Scott, was in charge of the UK personnel department and my father, Andrew Toms, used to be head of UK logistics. He just got moved to head a new development project to redevelop most of the internal systems when his relationship between him and my mother failed. Apparently he persuaded Anna's father to move the job to Milton Keynes and I have not seen him since, though I speak to him often on the phone. When I entered the house I took a deep breath and took in the aroma of today's offering. My mother worked from 10am to 3pm so she could be home to cook a nice meal. This was an arrangement she made with the company she works for when she went back to work. That way she can make sure she is home and we don't turn into latchkey children. This was OK when we were younger but I am now 13 and Beth is 15 so I felt rather hen pecked. However the one benefit was my mothers cooking. When she left school she went to cooking school and finished top of her class so I always looked forward to this time of day and tried to guess what today's special was. After the meal I sighed contently. Several years ago Mum heard me complain to Beth that the meals were always the same and I preferred school meals as they were more varied. That was like a red rag to a bull and Mum swore that she would never cook the same dish more than once a year. This was upsetting as I loved lemon meringue pie and to only have it once a year was sacrilege. However it meant I grew up with a very wide knowledge of food and an even wider culinary appreciation. "Bill, I think on Saturday we will continue with your cooking lessons. You have mastered most western major dish groups so I think it is about time you started on Indian dishes. I picked up the spices we need last week in Wolverhampton." Saturday was my day of cooking. Some people at school teased me about my cooking skills but were quiet when they tasted the results. It was something I looked forward to but I still had to follow Mums rules of not cooking something we had eaten in the previous 365 days. Beth, who had already passed through Mums cooking school, cooked on Sundays, which was always a delight as she had picked up the skills well. All three of us helped to clear the kitchen and wash up and then both Beth and I excused ourselves to do our homework. At about 7pm Mum left to do her Avon round and Beth was just going out to visit her boyfriend Kevin so I was left alone. I missed Dad as he used to be home at this time. About a year ago my parents had a major disagreement and Mum asked Dad to leave. It was the strangest event ever as Mum and Dad were very much in love. I tried to find out the nature of the disagreement but Beth didn't know and Mum wouldn't tell me. Whenever Dads name was mentioned Mum would get very quiet and her eyes would glisten. I had come to the conclusion that Dad must have had an affair but that wouldn't have been like him. He always was there for Mum, so affectionate and loving. Tuesday came and went and was pretty much nondescript but Wednesday was just awful. I hated Wednesdays and Thursdays with a passion as on those days I had Games / PE. I was physically quite a small person and had no interest in sports such as football and rugby. However sometimes we went on a cross-country run which I did enjoy and did very well at. As we were marched to the football pitch, our studded boots leaving a trail of tiny dots in the semi frozen ground, I knew today was going to be hell. "Today there are sixteen of you so we will play eight-a-side football. Tom and Harry you will be captains. Starting with you Tom, pick a player and that person please join your team," barked the games teacher. "Harry's team will play stripes. If Harry picks you then please reverse your jersey." We stood there getting cold in our shorts and long sleeved sports jersey, a bitter wind biting into our exposed legs. Gradually people were picked and as usual Simon and I were left. "I'll have Simon," stated Tom, "and you can have Bill." The cold wind sliced into my body as I removed my jersey. My teeth chattered as I reversed the top. I now had a 6cm red stripe across my chest. I hate Games. In the showers after it just got worse. "Are you sure you are a boy?" said somebody. Another said "Aren't you in the wrong changing room?" During the morning break I was walking towards the toilets past the sixth form common room. As I was going up the stairs to the first floor I heard somebody ask, "was that a boy or a girl?" I turned to give them a piece of my mind when Anna caught up with me. She apparently had heard the comment. "Don't worry about it Bill. We know that you are physically a boy so don't sweat about it." "But why do people have to make such comments. Do I look like a girl?" I was holding back the tears. I didn't want to show weakness in front of Anna. "Not really." Anna thought for a second pondering how to phrase an answer to such an awkward question. You have to tell the truth without making it sound cruel. "You are a bit on the small side with slightly wide hips and are very slim making your waist look smaller. However you don't have breasts and your bottom isn't big. If people thought you looked like a girl you would have had a lot be stick than a few comments from the sixth formers." Next was maths, which always cheered me up. Maths and Home Economics I could do. The teacher was covering topics I already knew so I didn't pay that much attention to Mrs Brown's ramblings. My mind turned to the conversation with Anne and the impact of the sixth formers question. Did I look feminine? Did I act like a girl? No I don't think so. Mrs Brown asked me a question about the knowledge she had been imparting which interrupted my thoughts. Deciding not to worry about who or what I was I turned my attention back to the matter at hand - maths. I knew the answer and quickly gave it. Obviously she thought I wasn't concentrated so I decided to expand my answer and stated in what conditions my answer wouldn't be relevant. This caused a great deal of confusion with the other pupils and meant I was left alone for the rest of the lesson. I was then bored so spent time doodling on my scrap paper book. That night after another culinary delight Mum asked Beth to check something on the car which was yet another part of Mums training. If I could do cooking then Beth could do car maintenance. My parents had decided quite early on in our lives that they didn't believe in gender differences when doing chores. After I'd finished Mums cooking lessons I would be learning car maintenance. "So Bill, what's going on?" queried Mum as she carried the 3 desert bowls to the sink. Queen of Puddings had certainly gone down well and wouldn't be seen again for at least another year. Me and my big mouth. "With what?" "Well since yesterday you have been withdrawn. You appear to have had a lot on your mind. I believe that yesterday you were told about the pantomime; is it that?" Over the years I had learnt to trust my mother. If you were truthful with her she would normally understand what was going on and give advice that helped. "Yes. I am a bit nervous about if any parts have no volunteers that I might get picked. I would rather play in the pit than take any acting role." Even though I trusted my mother I didn't think it would be good to tell her about people thinking I was a girl. There are limits! My mother took all this in and thought for a few seconds. "I take it is the Dame part that is of most concern?" As I nodded she continued, "why don't you then volunteer for one of the other parts and then even if you don't get picked for that part you might not get put in the hat for any remaining places." *** Monday soon came and I stumbled down the stairs to get breakfast. "Are you OK?" asked my concerned Mum. "You look like you didn't have much sleep." "I'm fine," I mumbled as I plonked myself into the chair. "I was just thinking about the week ahead." Actually I had been thinking about last Fridays sixth formers comment and Anna's even earlier comment. Was I that feminine? If I had a slight feminine build did I act like a girl? I didn't think the answer to any of the questions was yes, but what did I know. It wasn't the sort of question that I could ask my Mum or over the phone with my Dad. Could I ask Beth? Maybe, but not yet as I was worried she might tell Mum. I put on my coat and left just as Erika and Anna walked by. "Ah, baby weather," I said to the girls and grinned at their confused faces. "You know wet and windy." They both grimaced as the wind drove the rain under their umbrellas and into their faces. The dark clouds scuttled across the sky which reminded me of films where people were marched to their death. I had a bad feeling that today was not going to be one I would want to remember. The day progressed well and by lunch I was starting to think that maybe I had it wrong. The wind was still howling outside and the sound of the rain pelting against the windows tended to lessen the enthusiasm people had to snipe at each other. I decided to go into one of the soundproof music practice rooms. They were quite small at about 8 foot square but gave the peace I required to practice. After about 30 minutes of playing the oboe my mouth was beginning to ache and I noticed it was time for afternoon registration. Only just over an hour before drama. Walking from registration to the first afternoon class, which was music, only took a minute as my registration took place in the music block. Each class also took attendance just to ensure that nobody missed a lesson they didn't like. If it wasn't for this I would never have gone to Games. I listened as Mr Small rattled through a list of names and people smartly responded. I mentally tuned out and worried myself about the up coming lessons. It was coming up to my name "Trevor?" "Here" came the response from towards the back. Next is mine I absently thought as my mind was still elsewhere. "Jill?" "Here," I clearly responded. There were several sniggers throughout the class and I quickly replayed in my mind what was said and went bright red and buried my head in my lap. "Sorry Bill," said the equally embarrassed teacher and he progressed with the attendance speaking a bit clearer so no other incidents like that occurred. The lesson itself was enjoyable apart from now again I would spy other people in the class sneaking glances at me and muttering between themselves. The bell shrilly rang out signalling the change of class and we all trouped across the corridor towards the hall where torture known as drama was dispensed. "Are you okay?" queried Anna as we walked to along. She slipped her arm into mine to give me comfort. "I think so," I whispered lowering my head. "It was just a slip of the tongue and by tomorrow most people will have forgotten." "I think you were very brave," chimed in Erika who slipped her arm into mine on the other side. "Some people would have kicked up a fuss but you just carried on which was probably for the best. So have you put your name forward for any parts?" "Most male parts." I nodded as we took our seats in the hall. "Apart from Widow Twanky. I don't think anybody will have volunteered for that." "Boys and girls quieten down," instructed Mr Abbots. "Today we have the results of the parts for the pantomime. As you all know there are 7 main parts in total and that is what we will cast now. Additional bit parts will be sorted along with people to help with the sets. The GCSE and A Level art classes will obviously do the painting. Music will be by the schools orchestra. People who get a part who are in the orchestra will be excused from the orchestra." "Okay we will start with Aladdin. We had 6 people volunteer for this part. I will list the people and then go through each name one by one and will go with a show of hands." Mr Abbots did that and I didn't get the part. The process was repeated for Wishy Washy, The Emperor, Abanazar, The Fairy and The Princess. "We now come to the part that nobody volunteered for, Widow Twanky. Since some of you men put your names down for more than 2 parts I have come to the conclusion that you were desperate to act. Therefore if any of the men put yourselves volunteered for 2 or more parts I have added your names back into the hat for Widow Twanky." Mr Abbots passed a small cardboard box to Tom and asked, "can you please pull a folded piece of paper out of the box. I then want you to announce the winner and pass the paper back to me." Tom took the box and put his hand in and withdrew a single piece of paper. "Bill Toms," he shouted with glee. He quickly folded the paper back and replaced it into the box. "You were supposed to hand me the piece of paper so I could verify the name," complained the teacher. "Oh well never mind." "Well done Jill," crowed one of the boys on my left. A titter of laughter broke out in the class. "That isn't on," I spluttered. "How can you be sure that it was my name?" "Are you calling me a liar?" Tom challenged back. His muscles rippled across his shirt as he stood up. I gulped, shook my head, and retook my seat. Why did things like this always happen to me? The remaining 30 minutes appeared to be 30 hours. Scripts were handed out and minor parts assigned. My thoughts however were else where like how ridiculous I was going to look and what damage it would do to my already flaky reputation. I couldn't act and my desire not to be Widow Twanky had caused this to occur. What is going to be worse, my crap acting or how stupid I will look in a dress? I know that the dame is supposed to look silly, as it is all part of pantomime, but that isn't my style; I like to look the part. "Just before the bell goes I would like to remind everyone to look over their scripts before the Wednesday lunchtime rehearsal. Also remember the primary seven actors have to be measured for their costumes tomorrow lunch in the sewing room." The bell went and we all filed out all trying to get away from school and do something for the evening. Some people looked quite cheerful as they had the parts they wanted but there were also many others that had been roped into parts or positions that were unsuitable. Look at my situation; I would have been much happier playing the oboe in the pit but no I end up playing the dame. What a life. "I need to get something from my locker," I lied to Anna and Erika. "I'll see you tomorrow." I knew they would walk slowly up the hill, hoping I'd catch them up to make sure I was okay with what had occurred in music and in drama. However this was the last thing that I wanted to talk about. I needed to get home and actually think about what had happened and decide my true feelings. Instead of leaving by the usual route of out of the back door and up the side street I left by the front and walked smartly down the main road and past where the old primary school used to be. Yes I know things change but if a school has stood for over a hundred years I'm sure that it would have sufficed for another hundred. Even the smell of the food didn't cheer me up as I walked into the door. I was about five minutes earlier than usual which must have puzzled Mum as she poked her head round the door to see who it was. "Take your things upstairs and come and help me in the kitchen," she said kindly. Obviously she had seen the look of anguish on my face and to be asked to help with the food instead of relaxing she must have thought it quite important. Two minutes later I trouped into the kitchen ready for her firm but kind cross-examination. "So what part did you get?" obviously she thought getting to what she thought was the root of the problem. "Widow Twanky." I muttered as I took my frustration out by finely chopping a cabbage. I explained what had happened and the plan as it had been outlined less than an hour before. The doorbell rudely interrupted our cosy chat and I was quite relieved when she went to answer. I moved closer to the kitchen door and steered myself behind it to listen. The odour of fresh paint from last week still lingered when too close to it. "Hi you two," exclaimed Mum as she opened the door. I peeked through the gap between the kitchen door and the frame and spied Anna and Erika. "Is Bill home?" Anna asked; concern evident in her voice. "He had quite a rough afternoon and I haven't seen him since drama." "Bill got home about ten minutes ago and he's a little upset but will be okay. I think it might be best if he doesn't discuss this with you till tomorrow. He is still in shock and distressed about it." Anna looked a bit unsure and looked like she was going to argue the point but Erika replied, "I think you are right Mrs Toms, we will see him tomorrow. Just let him know we called and are thinking of him." Erika then steered Anna, who still looked upset, up the driveway. Mum quietly shut the front door and as she came into the kitchen I darted back to the kitchen table and continued with the preparation. She glanced over the lack of progress and I noticed the corner of her lips moved slightly up, paused and fell back down. "Okay so I don't have to explain that," she stated. "Let's finish off." I didn't know if she meant the earlier conversation or the food so I actively continued to chop hoping that the pantomime would not mentioned. I heard the front door open and Beth bounded in. "Is it true that you have been picked to play Widow Twanky?" puffed Beth as Mum glared at her. "Yes," I quietly replied lowering my head. "Can I start my homework now?" I asked turning to my Mum. She nodded and I turned a scampered to my bedroom, took out my books and started. Working like this took my mind of the problems that I had. 30 minutes later I heard Mum shout and went for my meal. The meal was unusually quiet and it was becoming obvious that Mum was deep in thought. Beth who was normally chirpy didn't speak much and I think Mum must have explained how upset I was. Just before bed I was still thinking about today's events and came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to sleep very well and needed some answers to the multitude of questions floating in my head. Mum called out good night as she went into her room and I thought that it would be best to talk to Beth about it, as I didn't understand Mums reaction. I also remembered an event that had occurred when I was about 5 years old. While being out I had noticed a lady with an extended tummy. My Mum later had told me that she was carrying a baby and taught me the word pregnant. When Mum was tucking me in bed I asked her where babies came from. This, I found out, was a bad move. When asked a question Mum always tried to give a full but age dependant response. She went on to impart information for about an hour when I just wanted to go to sleep. I quietly snuck across that hall and quietly knocked on Beth's door. I hoped that Mum wouldn't hear. "Beth...Are you decent?" "Yes...come in." I walked in and she asked, "what is it?" Beth's room was always a delight to visit. She took pride in her belongings and had her room arranged so everything was neat but accessible. Her bed faced east so on sunny mornings she would have the delight of the sun steaming through the window. Against the far wall next to her wardrobe was a small compact dressing table with assorted cosmetics arranged neatly. I turned to my sister saying, "I was just pondering about what occurred today and wanted to know why you and Mum were so quiet earlier?" So not to disturb Mum Beth responded in a lower tone. "I've never seen Mum as upset before. Well actually she was like this just before Dad left. From some of the things she said I think she has a problem with you getting the part of the Dame. It is like she hates the thought of you dressing as a girl. She is aware that you don't have the easiest time at school and I think she worries that this might make it worse." I thought about what Beth had said and responded with, "what about you? You were quiet through the meal." Beth looked at me with uncertainty in her eyes. She swallowed hard. "I am probably aware more than Mum what teasing you get at school. I have heard some of the comments myself and am aware that it's a lot worse than either of us knows. Some of my quietness was due to my worries." I stared straight into her eyes and retorted, "there is more to it than that. I need to know." Her face looked contorted with worry. There was obviously something more but she held out. We stared at each other for a while and I was pondering exactly what was going on. "No secrets. Remember?" I urged her. She continued to look panicked for a moment and then made up her mind. "Okay then, but this is not going to be easy for me to tell you or you to accept. Mum will be upset with me for telling you some of this so please keep this to ourselves." I nodded my consent and she continued, "I was trying to imagine you as Widow Twanky and it was a bit ridiculous. I then tried to think of you as my sister instead of my brother." Beth hung her head at this point, "and I found it quite easy. I thought about how we could do things together that we can't do now and how enjoyable it might be. I also heard what happened in music, it didn't take long for that to spread." She looked up at me with concern and I leaned across and gave her a hug. "Don't be upset sis. As brother and sister we are close but I am sure that we would be closer if we were sisters. There is nothing wrong with your thoughts. Mum and Dad have brought us up without much gender difference so we could be closer. We both do cooking, sewing, knitting, decorating, woodwork, cleaning and you have been learning about car maintenance which I will be doing next. However I am surprised that you found it easy to think of me as your sister. I know I get teased a lot at school but I'm not that feminine." My sister sadly shook her head, "Bill don't get upset about this and please don't mention this to Mum as she would be angry with me for telling you. You have a few attributes which make you... slightly less masculine than you might want." "WHAT?" I exclaimed a bit loudly. "Shush or you will have Mum finding out what's going on," responded Beth urgently. I uttered my apologies and she continued. "Besides being a bit on the short side you have one other major attribute which is very feminine, your hips." "They're not that bad," I interrupted Beth. "They're only a bit wider. Clothes still fit." "Have you ever been clothes shopping?" responded Beth. "You know that Mum always buys my clothes." I did not like where this was going. "Depending on the trouser fit Mum does one of two things. If the clothes are quite androgynous she will buy from the girls section and remove the label or sew in a boy's label. If there are no clothes that will work she purchases a larger item from the boy's section and then has to alter the waist to fit." I looked at her with a little shock. I knew my hips were wide, as Anna had confirmed this the other day, so the rest wasn't too much. Beth looked at me with concern. She was frightened that she had told me too much. "It's okay," I said as I took her hands in mine. "I've always known I'm not going to be a strapping rugby player and it does make sense what Mum has been doing with the clothes. Do you help with the alterations?" Beth nodded looking relieved that I hadn't freaked out. My mind wandered a bit to tomorrow's activities and then I remembered... I started to shake with fear. My eyes started to moisten and it wasn't long before they were trickling down my cheeks. Beth scooped me into her arms, gently rocking me and stroked by hair. "I'm here," she uttered trying to comfort me. "Tell me what's wrong". It took a few minutes before I was able to utter a word. "Tomorrow I've got a costume measurement with Mrs Harries." Mrs Harries was in charge of sewing lessons and would make up the costumes. The tears started to come down quicker. "And you are frightened about her son Tom finding out? Isn't he in your class?" I nodded yes to both of those. "If Tom finds out I am finished. You know that he's friends with the other boys that tease me. I am frightened that it might go beyond teasing." Beth continued to rock me for about five minutes as she tried to think of a solution. "I have a plan for the measurements and the costume, so don't worry." The tears gradually stopped, as did the shacking. I looked up and must have had a querying face as she continued, "just turn up as expected but don't panic. I'm not going to tell you the plan so you will give the correct reactions." "Okay," I responded. I trusted my sister. I wiped my tears, gave my sister a quick peck on her cheek, a hug and returned to my room.