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Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German SEVEN "Pee-uuu, you really reek of garlic," Mom greeted me, when I got home. "I made spaghetti aglio olio." "Did it taste good?" "Terrific. Best ingredients, freshly bought. I think Mrs. Weber will have a problem tomorrow. Do you want to try it?" And I held a jar of spaghetti aglio olio under her nose. She opened it and sniffed. "Hmmm, and I haven't eaten yet." "OK, I'll put the spaghetti water on." "Tomorrow at work they are going to kill me." "But at least you won't smell me any more tonight." ## After Mom had eaten, I went to my room. There I found several things lying on my bed. Oh, yeah, the things from Mom's lady friend. I'd forgotten already. I sat down on the edge of the bed and went through the items. It was mainly underwear, everything in its original clear plastic packaging. But even the first package showed the likeness of a girl. I opened it. What fell out was what was on the picture. A camisole for a girl, made of terry cloth. With a lot of small blossoms on it. The shoulder straps were edged in a lacy border, and in the middle was a small bow. This was not like the other underwear she had bought me. This had an extremely girlish appearance. For a very young young girl - to be exact. I couldn't imagine that Biene or Svenja would put on something like this. I looked at the label. Size 69-74, with the trade-mark from a large firm. I know enough about sizes to know that that was the height in inches. What 74-inch tall girl wears something like this? No wonder that this hadn't sold. Was there something like this that could normally be sold? I reached for my computer and went to the website of the manufacturer. They did in fact offer lingerie for girls up to this size. What kind of sense did that make? Or were there after all girls, who wore something like this? Maybe some mothers didn't notice that their children had grown up. Or didn't want to notice it. And then, as my thoughts wandered to the girls at school, there were naturally some who were less pretty. Those who had no interest at all in sexy lingerie, but rather preferred to stay with their accustomed things. It seemed as though you could actually imagine that something like this could be sold. But the market surely had to be small, I guessed. And the surplus lay on my bed. I quickly looked at the other packages. Not everything was like this first package, but everything was at the very first glance girls' underwear. There was absolutely no mistake. I took with the cami to Mom. "Mom, that's girls' underwear." "Yes, I know," she sighed. "But I'm not a girl." "Can you imagine that I had already noticed that at your birth. Recently I bought you a set and you put it on." "But that didn't look like it was for girls." "Actually it did, but not so emphatically. Let's see, you don't have to wear these things. It would help our household expenses somewhat. No one will see anything." "Mom, do we have financial problems?" She sighed again. "No, not really, I'm well-paid. But recently our expenditures have steadily mounted. With your last growth spurt new things were necessary and that added up very quickly." Tell me about it! "Then, too, repairs on the car, and we will soon need a new one." "Is it kaputt?" "No, but it is old. And now the exhaust control regulation is being enforced. With my car I won't be able to get to work any more. I need either an expensive overhaul or a different car." "I understand." Actually did, too. And the underwear on my bed was for sure worth several hundred Euros. I was familiar with the prices. This was no cheap junk from discount stores, but rather best quality. "You think, then, I ought..." "Only if you want to. Your old underwear hardly fits you any more, and you complain that it scratches. If we buy something cheap, it won't be any different. That," she pointed to the camisole in my hand, "is soft." "I've never worn anything made of terrycloth." "Then try it. There are also some tights in there, too. They don't look much different from your normal socks. It's supposed to be getting quite cold, so you can wear the tights under your pants. You don't like your warm pants." "OK, Mom, I'll try it." I went to my room again. It was beyond comprehension, Mom wanted me to wear girls' underwear. Was everyone going crazy? Should I go ahead and buy myself some new underwear? But I'd already spent my money for girls' lingerie. And it was definitely prettier. OK, I could still wear my old underwear long enough to earn some more money. The good side was that no one would see it. I could try it. I undressed and put on the camisole/T-shirt with the matching briefs/panties. The terry cloth was very agreeable, I had to admit. But the way I looked! Much too sugar sweet. This would have been perfect with the Alice costume, I thought to myself. Nonsense, since no one could see it. I looked at the package of tights. They were all much more suitable for little girls. No comparison with Svenja's chic pantyhose. Although these here... I pulled a nicely ringed pair of tights out of their package. The rings were in colors between beige and brown. That would look sharp with a short skirt, I thought to myself. In any event I intended to keep these. I pulled them on. Almost a little too long. With the first washing they would probably fit well, I suspected. Again it was the 69-74 size. I wasn't even 69 inches tall. But a couple inches probably didn't matter. My mom always said, you'll grow into them fast enough. Would I grow again soon? Maybe with the arrival of the rest of my adult voice? And some beard growth? I shrugged my shoulders. It wouldn't be bad to look more like a man. But not so fast. First I wanted to wear my expensive clothes as often as possible. I went to Mom. "You are almost my Alice again," she grinned. "Hmm, the trimming matches well, but the tights are a bit long." "Mom, no one is going to see that. And I'm not putting a skirt on over them." But I was going to do exactly that, I thought. Tomorrow already. "Actually, almost too bad," answered Mom. "Tights are in fashion." Mom looked at me in such a strange way. Just like yesterday when she came in with the Alice costume. "Do you want to keep the things?" she asked then. "Yes, Mom. They feel good and they fit me. No one will see them." And with that I went to my room. I didn't feel like cleaning up neatly, but my bed had to be emptied. So I piled the things next to my wardrobe. It wasn't even eight o'clock. I'd already finished my homework and had no desire to try anything demanding. Why not a little television with Mom? I didn't feel like changing clothes, so I just pulled on my fluffy sweater over my clothes. And the tights were much more comfortable than any of my pants. Mom didn't say anything, when I sat down with her. I snuggled up against her again, just as I had done as Alice. She appeared to like it. The news came on and then the weather report. "Twenty degrees tomorrow morning," Mom sighed. "That means scraping the windshield again. And you had better wear tights." "Yes, Mom." I looked at my legs with its circles. I became aware that I was now dressed exclusively in girl things. And Mom liked it. Unconsciously I shook my head. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Oh, nothing. I just hope this winter won't get so cold." I didn't know whether I could reconcile my male ego with going to school every day in tights. I's getting to be time that things will be warm again. Under my T-shirt I didn't need to put on a cami decorated with posies. Shortly before ten I was dead-tired, wished Mom a good night and went to my room. As I undressed, my glance fell on the pile of underwear. On the picture of one package there was not a girl in lingerie but rather in pajamas. I opened the package. Yes, pajamas. In pink with a glittering princess across the chest. Same target group as my lingerie, I thought to myself. And since I already had the underwear on, I could put on the pajamas, too. Was certainly more comfortable than my own, I suspected. It was, I ascertained as I fell asleep. ## While dressing my glance fell once again on the stack next to my wardrobe. That really ought to be cleared away before one of my friends saw it. But on the other hand - afternoons I was always babysitting, so there was almost no time for friends. For that matter I had spent almost all my time recently with Biene and Svenja. And with them it wasn't a problem. Biene would notice my underwear pretty quickly anyway, if she again put her hand under my pullover. I looked forward to that. In pleasant anticipation I got a case of goosebumps. Quickly I finished dressing. I had to be careful on Wednesday, it occurred to me on the way to school. Then we had gym. It wouldn't be so good, if I were wearing girls' lingerie then. I might just as well show up in a tutu. Actually not a bad idea for Mardi Gras. It would make the guys' eyes fall out. But I didn't think that I would dare do it. And anyway, I didn't have a tutu. ## One class was canceled because of teacher sickness, and so I sat together with Biene. Of course she had soon put her hand under my sweater. When she felt the soft terry cloth, she naturally wanted to see and raised up my pullover a little. I quickly smoothed it again downwards. "What is that you are wearing?" she asked in disbelief. "The last time I wore something like that was years ago." I looked around, no one was in hearing distance. "Mom was given the underwear as a present." "Little girl underwear? And you put it on?" "Mom thought, if it didn't bother me, then we could save some money this way." Then I told her the entire story. When I was finished, Biene giggled. "My boyfriend, in girls' underwear. And tights." "Which matches just right with a skirt, that I will put on later." At that she didn't know what to say. Then she shook her head. "What's that mean?" I asked. "I'm not clear whether you are my boyfriend or my girlfriend." ## Unfortunately I wasn't able to speak with Svenja. There was always someone around which made it difficult to talk about what kind of skirt I wanted to wear. Today it was really cold for the first time this year. I was very glad for the tights under my jeans, especially in the class breaks and on the way to the garden house. A mini-skirt wouldn't be so great today, I concluded. Something warm would be much better. For the first time I wished I could wear pants for babysitting. But I found something warm all laid out. Svenja was thinking with me as she always did. I pulled off my jeans and pulled on the calf-length skirt, happy that I didn't have to completely undress. The skirt looked like it was some kind of knit, but it wasn't made of wool, rather from artificial fibers and in a bright blue. In addition there was a pullover of the same material with a turtle neck collar, and very colorful. The blue of the skirt, however, predominated. With my boots the outfit looked first rate and was wonderfully warm. No need for pants, I smirked. After the snug firmness of the jeans the softness and elasticity were wonderful. "Andrea, and as always, stylish," Mrs. Weber praised me. "Your mother spoils you." "No, I bought everything myself," I responded proudly, "from the money that I earn here." "Great. You have spent it well. But don't spend all your money on clothing, OK?" When I get my pumps, is when I'll stop, went through my mind. "But with your nice things you need an appropriate jacket. This one just doesn't do it." I nodded. Good-bye, money. Mark greeted me stormily and again paid special attention to my skirt. I'd slowly gotten used to that, but I still wasn't able to figure out what it meant. Later I became aware that my things were too warm. I went into the bathroom and took off the camisole. I now had underneath simply a bra. Holding the camisole I walked out. Mark stroked over it with his hand. "So that's what girls wear underneath," he said. "It looks pretty." Yes, for little girls, I thought. But Mark didn't understand that yet. He liked the flowers. After he had admired it sufficiently, I stowed it in my handbag. Mrs. Weber must not see it. ## Today for the first time I had nothing to do all afternoon. There was scarcely any homework, Lena was sleepy and Mark was, too. It was almost too quiet. I called Biene. After saying "Hi!" she asked, "What's up?" "Actually nothing at all. At this moment I have nothing to do." "With two children?" "Both asleep." Then we talked for a while about absolutely nothing. You can always do that easily with a girl. At that time, it didn't occur to me, that two were needed for that. Finally Biene asked, "Are you going to cook again this weekend?" "Did it really taste that good last time?" "It was fantastic; I told you that." "I never get tired of hearing it." "You, you..." "Careful, you were just speaking about a delicious meal." "You goat!" "OK, well no meal." "Ohh come on, I'll be real good. Please, OK? "OK, OK. But I have to ask Mom first." "Then ask her, too, whether I can see you as Alice." "You just don't seem to like it when I'm wearing pants. Lovely girlfriend." And so it went for some time until Lena ended the conversation with her loud contribution. ## When I got home, Mom said, "Good, that you're here. Please help me." "Just a second, Mom. Just let me pull my jeans off quickly." I didn't like the tight jeans after I had been the whole time in a comfortable skirt. I went to her wearing my tights and helped hang up the curtains. Then I went to my room. Mom had cleared away all the things. I opened my closet. My underwear was gone, replaced by girl things. While I looked at the changed condition of my closet, Mom came in. "I saved you a little work." "Thanks, Mom." "Most of your underwear anyway was torn or too small. I threw it away, since there wasn't going to be enough room in the wardrobe for everything." "But Mom, I need boy things whenever we have gym. I can't change into these underthings." "No problem. Whenever you have gym, you just put on your jersey here at home. You don't shower in school anyway." None of us showered in the old common shower stall. Boys at puberty didn't like to show themselves naked. "OK, that'll work." "Speaking of gym, with your new things there were also two leotards." She pointed to something blue in my sport thing pile. "I sure can't wear those to school." "Of course not, Dummy. But now, for example, instead of your sweatshirt. That doesn't really go with your tights." "Geez, Mom, that just absolutely doesn't matter." "You're wrong. Your sweaters will last longer. Just look, this one is about finished." She pointed to a loose thread and a distinctive hole at the elbow. "And," she said while she took the suit out of the closet, "that is Lycra. Very soft." The magic word. I took it in my hand. "OK, Mom, I'm convinced." Soon enough I had pulled on my long-sleeved leotard over my tights. It was almost the same blue as my skirt today. Down the side ran the familiar three stripes, then began again on the inside of the sleeve and ran down to the hands. Two color-matched slippers with thin soles came for the feet. Hmm, not bad, I thought. Unbelievably flexible. Like a second skin; it's almost as though I wasn't wearing anything. ## In the evening I was again back with Mom on the couch. I didn't know why I hadn't done this for ages. It was nice to snuggle against her. Biene would have been better, but Mom was OK, too. I just didn't know what I was supposed to do with my clothing. A leotard with tights simply wasn't the right outfit for a boy. But sooo comfortable. I lolled about contentedly. ## After brushing my teeth, still half asleep, I suddenly became aware of the absence of my normal underwear. My princess-pajamas would have been a good hint had I not in my sleep-drunk state forgotten them altogether. Yes, nothing with flowers, I thought to myself. Hmm, the shining set of underwear seemed to be OK. White satin without any flowers. Still, I couldn't let anyone see me wearing it, with the playful straps and the bow. Except for Biene maybe. She apparently liked it, when I wore feminine things. For whatever reason. I paused at the socks. I'd prefer tights, then I wouldn't need to undress in the cold garden house. But which ones? I couldn't even consider the ones with a pattern, because when I sat down, then a little would be seen under the pants. There were the ones with rings in various shades of blue. I put those on. After school I found the jeans skirt with a slit waiting for me, or as alternative, one of the long skirts, which I had worn in the beginning. The jeans skirt went with my tights beautifully. And now my lace-up shoes with the block heels which had finally arrived. ## Everything turned into a routine. And then a person makes mistakes. Almost. I already had, groggy from sleep as usual, my tights on, when it occurred to me that we had gym today. That would be just fine if I could dress in a gym suit and work out with the girls. Later while changing, Bernd spoke to me. One of my friends. "Say, I don't see you any more." "I have a job and there's not much time." "A job? Neat. I can't find one. What are you doing?" "Babysitting." He laughed. "Hey, Klaus, Andy has a job babysitting." He laughed, too. What was so funny about babysitting? "Hey man, babysitting is for girls." "So what. At least it pays well." He changed the subject. "We'll have to get together to do something." "I have time Friday." "OK, then, Friday after school." ## Nothing much happened till Friday. Except that it had gotten warmer and as a result I didn't wear tights under my jeans. I almost had the feeling that Mom was disappointed about that. I mean, that I didn't run around the house in tights any more. On Saturday I was supposed to cook again at home. Mom asked for a rolled beef roast. Biene and Svenja were invited again. They were both enthusiastic when I told them about it. Friday after school I foraged with my friends through the area. At last I was doing something as a boy again. And I wasn't wearing tights. Things began to feel normal again. Right up to the catastrophe. I can't really say exactly how it came about. It was just nice to have my mind taken away from worrying. At any rate, a CD that hadn't been paid for found its way into my pocket. Quite possible that I did it myself, but I have no recollection of it. I can swear that I didn't do it consciously, that is something I would never do. But of course they didn't believe me. The store detective telephoned my mother, who had to leave work early. Boy, was she pissed. I'd never seen her like this. She polished off all the paper formalities, paid a kind of monetary penalty, even if they did call it something else. Then came the trip home. Even now my ears are sore from that. One thing that she repeated over and over: "That's what boys do after school, eh? Just to show how macho they are? I'll soon cure you of that!" Her mood was intensifying, and I couldn't do anything to smoothe matters over. "You'll have no more opportunities for such stupidity! This boy- twaddle is a thing of the past. Do you hear? Over, past!" If I had understood what she intended, I probably would have run away. When we got home, she hissed, "Take off your clothes except for your underwear." I didn't dare utter a word. Then she yanked a pair of screaming red tights out of my closet, threw them to me, and disappeared into the attic. That could mean only one thing, that I was supposed to put them on. These tights really were a bright red, much more so than Svenja's. I wouldn't wear them with one of my skirts. And unlike Svenja's, which were sheer and loosely woven, and more like what a college girl would wear, these were heavy and closely woven. Like for a small child. Mom came back with two pieces of clothing in her hands. She gave me something white, which I identified as a blouse. I put it on. "No," she snarled imperiously, "the buttons go in back." As though I could have known that. I was really unaccustomed to sticking my arms in the sleeves. Mom buttoned it up, and I noticed from her motions that she was still very, very angry. The blouse was actually unpretentious with the exception of a giant collar of diaphanous lace. Again, just like little girls. And apropos diaphanous: You could see the outline of my girl-underwear. "That comes from my mother," she said as she handed me a skirt. "It was much too large for her. And when I was tall enough to wear it, she didn't like it any more, because it made me look like such a little girl." It was a blue pleated skirt made of Trevira (a European artificial fiber) directly out of the Seventies. It probably really was. Today most skirts only have pleats farther down on the skirt, and they are rather broad. Not these. Directly below the narrow waistband began countless narrow pleats. And the worst: It had two shoulder straps out of the same material. When I got the skirt on, Mom pulled the straps over the shoulder and crossed them in back, so that she could button them to the waistband. I felt totally absurd in the little-girl outfit. With girls' clothing I had no problem, but with these things... I had no breasts, no wig and wasn't made up. And then these rags that were perhaps for a child of Mark's age. My facial expression probably mirrored my thoughts again. "So, young lady, from now on no more pants. I scarcely think that you'll get involved in such nonsense again. That's the end of boy-pranks, my girl." I opened my mouth, but decided not to say anything, when I got a look at Mom's face. "Like I said, no more pants. If you behave in exemplary manner this weekend, and I really mean perfectly, then I'll give you your pants on Monday morning. If there is even the smallest problem, then you'll have a number of things to explain at school, when you show up there in a dress." Mom couldn't really be serious! What if someone saw me like that!? In foolish girls' clothing, and immediately recognizable as a boy by my short hair. But she actually was serious. "So, now I want you to clean out your closet of everything except underwear and tights. Get a few plastic bags out of the kitchen and put the other stuff in them. When I return, I want you finished. Is that clear?" With very confused feelings I set to work cleaning out my closet. It wasn't long before everything was in the plastic bags. I couldn't tell whether she was satisfied when she came back. "Do you still have homework to do?" I shook my head. "Good. I have to go away again. When I return, I want the kitchen shining and for you to have everything ready for supper." "Should I cook something?" I asked with squeeking voice. "No, bread and wurst will do just fine." She took the plastic bags and left. Completely distraught I looked at myself and then in my closet. Except for feminine lingerie I had nothing to wear, and that included what I was wearing. But what options did I have. I went into the kitchen, put on an apron and set to work. ## By the time Mom got back, everything was ready, including the table I'd set. She seemed somewhat more agreeable. But she scarcely said a word. The only thing was, that I had to give her money back for the fine. Good, then she at least wouldn't forbid me to work at my job. I hoped she wouldn't speak with Mrs. Weber, because then things would get even worse. I resolved to be as perfect as possible over the next few days. After supper I began to clean up while she carried things she had brought home into my room. When I was finally finished, Mom sent me to my room. No television today. On my bed lay a nightgown. Naturally in a design meant for little girls. Where did she get that in my size? Oh yes, her friend from whom she'd already gotten my girls' underwear. I was pretty pooped even though it wasn't really very late. For one thing the psychic stress of the events, and then all the work in the kitchen. I undressed down to my panties, and then I put on the nightgown. Unexpectedly fast I fell asleep. ## I woke up because Mom raised the curtain. I'd slept a very long time, and surprisingly without nightmares. "Good morning." To judge from her voice, she had become more calm. "Good morning, Mom." She walked to my closet and took out several things. "Shower and then put this on. Call me when you are finished." I put on the terry cloth set. This had a lot of little bears printed on it. How cute! And then tights in pale pink. I'd avoided these up till now. At ankle level there were glittering hearts. How darling! I liked girl clothing, that was clear. But not this. I was no longer a small child. And for sure not a small girl. But what did that help, when I had to go through this? Hopefully by Monday it would be over, and I would have somehow survived the weekend. I prepared myself for what was yet to come. But for that which actually came next, I was not prepared. Apparently Mom wanted to give me a shock I wouldn't soon forget. The dress was pink. In itself that wasn't so bad. It isn't at all simple to describe it. I'll try: Below it was a completely normal broad skirt, which reached down over the knees. Over this was a second skirt in a brighter pink with a checked pattern of dark pink. In the same dark pink there were several large blossoms printed. The hem down below was not of even length, but hung there in large waves ending about two inches above the other skirt. And then, some three inches higher all around the skirt were pink bows evenly distributed; these ended in pompoms. The upper half looked as though it was a bolero jacket made of pink velvet-like plush. A couple inches from the edge ran an embroidered flower pattern. And there, where usually there were pockets, were two large blossoms with white blossom petals and a center of a glowing bright pink. At the collar the dress closed with a satin ribbon finishing in a large bow, which ended in more pompoms. No girl older than five would ever wear anything like this. And yet I had just pulled it down over my head. Mom closed the zip in back and tied a great gleaming bow. Then she pulled me in front of the mirror. I was caught in a nightmare of pink. Mom saw my face and she brightened up. "An extremely pretty dress. I hope you like it because you'll be wearing it often." I was dead. Deader than dead. It didn't matter any more that in addition to all that I had to put on the shoes from the Alice costume. Mom called them Mary Janes. I felt it as a favor that I had to put on an apron to help Mom. At least there wasn't so much pink. "Do you have everything for the rolled roast?" she asked me suddenly. Oh crap, I had to cook today. And Biene and Svenja would be here. Just as I was about to say that I did not want under any circumstances to be seen by the girls, a look from Mom halted me. She didn't need to say anything. If I wanted to go to school in pants on Monday, I'd best keep quiet. I gathered the ingredients. If something was missing, I surely wouldn't have to go buy it? I'd rather starve. But to my relief everything was there. A heavy weight fell from my heart. Mom just made a little something for lunch since we were to have the rolled roast later. Should I retract my invitation to the girls? Mom wouldn't much like that. And it would be better if they saw me today than the whole school on Monday. When we had cleaned up, Mom said, "Now you can take off the apron. Then we can make you pretty for your girlfriends." Make pretty? With a wig and make-up I wouldn't look quite so foolish. It could only make things better. It didn't work out that way. Mom lacquered my fingernails with such an intensive pink that they almost glowed by themselves. She removed the simple studs from my ears and looked at the holes. "They've healed very well." She showed me two pink earrings, each with a little plastic heart on it. In short order they were in my ears. I felt how the little hearts dangled against my neck. My ears weren't really healed all that well, because the movement felt disagreeable in the holes. But Mom wasn't finished. A second coat of polish was applied to my nails whereupon they glowed even brighter. While I waited for them to dry, Mom busied herself with my hair, which wasn't really very long yet. With the help of gel Mom made my hair a little more adaptable and parted it in the middle of my head. With considerable effort she brought two short stub-like braids together, each of which she fastened with a pink bow. A bunch of hairpins held the rest of my hair close to my head and let the straight-as-an-arrow part in the middle of my hair show clearly. From the mirror a little girl looked out at me, if I disregarded the size of the person. With this hair style I looked about five, and the clothing didn't change the impression. Quite the opposite. Mom appeared to be very satisfied. I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.