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Andy by Transbonder, translated by Leah from the German EIGHT The doorbell rang. That could only be Svenja and Biene. I saw from Mom's face that I was supposed to answer the door. I couldn't see myself doing that in this outfit. But on the other hand, I wanted pants for Monday. I opened the door. Biene looked at me and lifted her hands in front of her mouth. Svenja's eyes became gigantic. I waved them inside. I must say, the two were really nice. In the beginning after that first surprise they acted as though everything was perfectly normal. I didn't dare look at Mom to see how she was taking everything. I suspect she would have found it better had the two of them made fun of me. I just now understood what terrific girlfriends I had. People tend to take such things for granted. But not always. My so-called buddies would have laughed themselves sick at my expense. After the usual greetings in which Mom, too, acted as though everything were totally normal, we went up to my room. Right away Biene effervesced, "Wow, Andrea, what's happened to you?" "A catastophe. I was caught stealing, and this is my punishment." "You stole something?" "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's quite possible that I stuck a CD in my pocket in order to buy it, and then forgot it. There was so much confusion and my mind was unfocused." "And because of a CD your mother is punishing you this way? I wouldn't have worn this dress at the age of five." "It is really terrible. And yesterday it wasn't much better." I told them what I'd had on. "Who were you with?" Svenja wanted to know. "With Bernd and a couple pals." "Bernd? Then you don't know the story?" "No?" "There was once an incident. It could never proven. But with great probability Bernd once stuck a CD in someone's pocket, so he could swipe it later in all the excitement." "He did that? Unbelievable! Then he should be wearing this dress!" "It's only a suspicion," said Svenja. Biene replied, "But it is very likely." "Likely doesn't help. We need proof." "We could set a trap for him. And if he falls for it, we can get our revenge." My mood was getting steadily better. If Bernd had done that to me, then... Suddenly it wasn't bothering me any more to be stuck in this supersweet dress. Because I was just keeping it for Bernd, and he wouldn't have one at home. Not even Biene getting an eyeful in my closet made my good mood go away. Since clearing things out, I hadn't even glanced at the contents. But at my first look now, the Alice costume stood out. But there were two more dresses. Not really much better than what I was now wearing. In addition a few blouses and sweaters. Everything in a style similar to my dress. In order to look at the contents of the closet without being in danger, you actually needed a large dose of insulin. And there was, as Mom had said, not a single pair of pants. Not even my princess-pajamas. Even though they would have certainly fit in well. ## When we went into the kitchen, to begin the cooking, Mom couldn't comprehend how happy I was all at once. She had probably expected the opposite. I intentionally selected for myself the apron with the most frills and had Biene tie it on. Then we cut up the onions and other ingredients. Naturally a lot of garlic. The most important ingredient of them all, something Mark would agree with me. What do you suppose he would think of my attire? After all, he was always so interested in my skirts and tights. I was already looking forward being there tomorrow. In a sensible skirt. In the girl clothing that I liked. Guaranteed no pink. This thought elevated my spirit even more. And the girls played a big part in that, too, so that I had a lot of fun. When everything was prepared and softly stewing away, Biene suddenly asked my mother, "Andrea told me about an Alice costume. I have to admit, I'm very curious. Can I see it once?" Mom interpreted the question after her own thinking. "Andrea has behaved very well today. I think as a reward she can put on that costume." What kind of crap was Mom scheming? She couldn't stand it that I was having fun. As a "reward" from one dress into another? But I knew which way the wind was blowing, and if I didn't go along I'd run the danger of having to go to school in a skirt. Above all, not from among the things in my closet. "Mom, will you put make-up on me again?" You could have auctioned her facial expression on eBay; that would really bring in the money. As I had expected, she said nothing, was only able to give a small nod. I went with the girls into my room and had them unbutton my dress. Quickly I was down to my lingerie. But Biene was familiar with that so she didn't say anything. At the same time she admired the petticoat. Ten minutes later, with both of them helping, I was in the costume. Then I went to Mom and asked for the wig. As she put on my make-up, her bad mood seemed to dissolve. Mom was almost herself, and I was Alice. Which was far preferable to me as Andrea in Little-Children-Clothing. Biene's admiration seemed genuine and Svenja, too, complimented me. I was satisfied that I once again looked like a normal human being. And not like a boy in girl clothing. But rather like a girl in girl clothing. Now that the ice was broken, we spent a nice time till the girls had to go home. I stayed as Alice until I went to bed. Mom seemed to like that. I was so tired that the far too sweet night gown made no difference at all to me. ## Next morning I had to put on the next dress from my closet. Down low were many flounces, and behind a giant bow. A need for insulin. But I took the lead in asking Mom to repair my make-up. Naturally I hadn't cleaned off my face last evening, how could I have? With water and soap you really can't get very far with waterresistant make-up; then everything would have at best been a smeary mush. Mom seemed torn between two purposes. But then her good humor conquered, and she fixed me up. When she left, I pulled the blonde wig over my hair and set about making it presentable again with a vigorous brushing. I suspected that it hadn't looked so good for decades. But that was precisely what I wanted. Mom intended to make me look ridiculous, even if only half-heartedly today, and I made that difficult by looking as good as possible. If I had been a few years younger, I would have been very happy with my appearance. A little princess. At least I was a somewhat extraordinary girl, and not a boy in a silly dress. ## Sunday passed as good as was possible. In the evening I was tempted to sit with Mom again, but in the voluminous skirt I couldn't snuggle up to her. The result would have been more frustrating, I reasoned. Could I talk Mom into giving me a leotard? Or was there even one in my closet? I knew that I hadn't cleared them out myself. At any rate I set my alarm for earlier than usual. I had to get rid of my make-up, the nail polish, the plastic earrings and I needed a pair of pants. I walked in my nightgown to her bedroom and knocked. On hearing an unidentifiable noise I entered. "Mom, I have to go to school." "So what?" she replied sleepily. "I need a pair of pants." "Oh." After a moment she continued, "Do you think you deserve them?" "More than you think, Mom." I saw how her still only half-awake brain cells nibbled away at that. For the moment she gave up the battle and said, "Good. They are lying there." She pointed at the closet door. I opened it and found a pair of my jeans. "What about the other things?" "What other things? I only gave permission for pants." "I think you're not yet awake enough. I'll make coffee, will you come right away?" She nodded. I went with my pants into my room and pulled the nightgown off. In a moment I was in fresh underwear and tights. In dark pink. I didn't have any other. And this even had a floral embroidered pattern. And this was the least harmful of all that were left. Tomorrow I would have to choose one that was even worse, for example, the white one with the numerous red cherries on it. Not exacly inconspicuous. I went into the kitchen, got the coffee going and warmed the cocoa. Coffee wasn't my thing. I had learned why in biology. Children still have many receptors on their tongues for bitter materials, and they therefore don't like such things. This changes in puberty. Then many can enjoy bitter tastes blissfully. I wasn't so far away from that time. Think beard growth. I gave Mom a few minutes until she was clearly more awake after her cup of coffee. "Mom, I can't go to school like this." "Why not?" "OK, here's a short list: Make-up, nail polish, earrings, shoes, pullover, and these tights too." "I understand. The polish remover is in the bathroom, the small pink bottle. I think you'll be able to get that done by yourself." Well, I did have experience already. But Mom mustn't hear about that. A few minutes later I went back to her with cleaned-up nails. At her glance I said, "Make-up?" "Right there where the remover stood is a bottle of baby oil. It's blue. The cotton pads are there, too. Put the oil on and scrub till you're clean. Then wash normally to get rid of the oil." I did it just like she had said. Wow, that bit with the oil really worked. In the future I could forget about the expensive remover pads. I fumbled around with the earrings and got them out. Actually pretty simple when you know how. I found my silver ear studs and put them in. Then I put on my pants. Back again, I asked, "What should I wear?" "Get something out of your closet." "That's no good. I can't put on a blouse or a pink sweater." "You got yourself in this mess." "No." "Whad'ya mean, no? Let's not get sassy unless you want to get right into another skirt." "Mom, now listen to me. Bernd, one of the guys in the store with me, had already done this once before. He sticks something in a person's pocket so that he can steal without danger. I didn't steal anything, honest." "You just want to put the blame on someone else." "No, Mom. It's true. Ask Biene or Svenja. Or Mike, it happened to him once, too." "You mean, you really are innocent?" "You've never talked about the incident with me." She mused on that. "Then I really have screwed up, huh?" She said it with an irresistable smile. So I gave her a hug. "I guess I was blind in more than just one eye. You're completely right. Even if you had stolen it, it would be completely out of bounds to send you off to school like that. Sometimes one's emotions play tricks on them." "Thanks, Mom. But it's already getting late. And I can't go to school in a pink sweater with a large, glittering heart. And not in my Alice-shoes either." "You're so right. But all of your things are at Moni's. She talked me into some things. I'm afraid that the only stuff we have are my things. Let me see if I can locate an inconspicuous sweater." But nothing of the sort was in sight. Mom seldom wore sweaters. Salvation came in the form of the upper half of a jogging outfit. Not the best considering its color, but doable. Now I looked like Andy again. Just without shoes. "Up in the attic there might be a pair of inconspicuous boots - let me have a look." It was clear that Mom didn't want me to come along. To me it was also clear just why. I wasn't supposed to see the other things in which I had already rummaged about. The boots which she finally brought down, didn't look all that promising. They were made of deerskin in deep pink with a wide fur strip around the top. In front was a dressy clasp, whose shoelaces ended in pompoms. I reacted to the pompoms as though I were allergic. "That not as bad as it looks at first," thought Mom out loud. "If you wear your pants over them, no one can see the fur or the pompoms. And the pink really isn't so bright. No matter, that's all that I have." I pulled on the boots. Just as I had expected, they fit perfectly. But even with the pants down over them, they didn't exactly look like my normal shoes. But this could work. She reiterated my thoughts. "Not perfect, but it could work." "Thanks, Mom." "Thanks - for what? I got you in this little mess." "But you are helping me. And -" "Yes?" I hadn't really planned to say anything, but it just streamed out of me. "I don't know why you've given me all these girl things. First the sweaters, then the underwear. The Alice costume. If you would like for me to dress like a girl, then I'll do it. Because I love you." I saw how a tear rolled down her cheeks. She didn't say anything. "But please let me be a boy in school. If I'm conspicuous there, then I'm toast. You don't know how bad that can be." "Oh, yes, I do," she whispered. "OK. You'll get me some things I can wear to school tomorrow without any problems?" She nodded. "Good. Lay on my bed what I should wear for you this evening. I'll change as soon as I come home." Now I saw even more tears. I left before things escalated even more. It was high time. I had to rush so that I wouldn't arrive late. ## I got through school with just a few stupid comments. After I had survived that, I could wear the boots other times without further problems, because there wouldn't be anything new about it. By the time I was in the garden house and had put on the skirt Svenja had laid out for me, I looked at the boots in a completely new light. They went with the tights splendidly. They looked first rate together. Even the pompoms looked just a little affected and not so very childish. ## Mark was also enthused. Today wasn't the right day, but at the next opportunity I was going to find out what lay behind his attitude. Apart from that concern babysitting was the most normal that I'd had in days. And even if I had to wear a pink dress this evening, it wasn't going to spoil my humor. ## When I got home, Mom wasn't to be seen. I took off my pants and the substitute sweater. It was my sole normal clothing aside from the things at Svenja's. I had to smirk. Now I considered my girl clothing as normal. But it was in comparison to the things in my wardrobe. I had the choice between the two dresses from the weekend and the Alice costume. Then there was the pleated skirt and one other. It was a mini-skirt with a very broad elastisized waistband, which consisted of three horizontal panels. Each was in a bright color, with the lower panels increasing in width. The bad thing about it was the numerous large, black dots. Because of them it looked like it had been made for Minnie Mouse. I took the only sweater and with a shrug of my shoulders put it on. The blouse wasn't a possibility, since I couldn't deal with the buttons in the back. The pullover wasn't really at all bad. The pink wasn't too bright. Somehow it even went with my tights. If only there hadn't been that large glittering heart there. With my jeans skirt even then it didn't look bad. I considered whether I ought to put on the blue pleated skirt or simply not wear a skirt at all, when I heard Mom come in. On my way to greet her it occurred to me that I looked a little strange dressed just in tights. No idea why. Maybe I was already accustomed to always wearing a skirt over them. "Hi, Mom," I greeted her. "Hello Andrea." She didn't seem to be in the best mood. "I was just at Moni's to get your things. Allegedly she doesn't have them any more. I don't know what kind of game she is playing with me. First she convinced me to give the girl clothes to you as a punishment, and now your things are gone." I must have made a pretty disappointed face, because Mom continued, "Head up, we'll get this straightened out. I got a few other things from her as substitutes, I'm sorry but those are also girl clothing." Then her face cleared up a bit. "But at least nothing sugar sweet, just normal stuff." She shook a bag onto the table and I saw jeans. At once it was clear to me that these weren't pants. I picked it up. It was a jeans dress. Beneath a narrow, sleeveless bodice was a broad swinging skirt. I liked that a lot. I would have bought something like that for babysitting. The next piece was also a jeans-dress. The bodice had a beading of buttons to the waist. Under a wide belt of jeans material came a mini- skirt, whose lower half consisted of pleats. It was to die for. I fell in love with it on the spot. In a flash I drew it over my head and buttoned it on. Then, smiling, I twirled in front of Mom. She was astonished. "It appears that you like it." "Yes, Mom. Very good. But the other dress is nice, too. Now I have something sensible to wear." Ooops, I shouldn't have said that, although I meant it 100%. "I mean, in comparison to the other clothes," I sought to smooth things over. "Terrific. That means we've solved things for here and today, if you like them. Here are some more sweaters, check to see if they are suitable for school." I picked up the next jeans-colored piece, but it was another dress. This one had long sleeves and its skirt came down over the knees. In addition there was another dress made of a thin blue diamond-patterned material. It was somewhat shorter and buttoned just on the bodice. That way it looked a little like an apron. Not bad at all, I thought to myself, but the other two were a lot nicer. At the very bottom lay a pair of pants. But they were quite clearly jeans for a girl. On the derriere there was a large embroidery, since that was just now in for the girls. In every other way they looked like a pair of my own jeans. Mom looked at me as though I ought to try them on, but the dress appealed to me much more. More chic and more comfortable. Now I tried the sweaters. The first was lilac-colored. Otherwise an entirely normal pullover without hearts or anything like that. No doubt about it, the color was feminine, but I could get by with it. The next one was sky-blue with a horse on the chest. Hmm. At least nothing glittered. The last one was wreathed in violet-white rings. And then there was still a red-white ringed sleeveless T-shirt, with a long-sleeved red bolero style jacket out of the same material. In front the jacket wasn't much more than a larger bra. I inhaled deeply. Man, that was crazy! I absolutely had to try this one on. "Mom, this one here," I pointed to the lilac-colored one, "is OK. The ringed one, too, probably although I have never seen a boy wearing something like that. About the horse I'm not so sure." About the combination with the bolero jacket I said nothing. I was positive, my voice would betray me. "Well, then we have something after all. And then we will have to shop for a few things for you." "Mom, the most important would be some shoes. I can get by for a few days with the pants, if I change as soon as I come home." That meant, that I could wear a neat dress at home, too. I didn't want it to be spirited away in short order. Perhaps some tights, too,...but I couldn't really say that to Mom. Or maybe I could? Wait and see. "Good, then let's go to the kitchen. I'm hungry." "I brought something from Mrs. Weber. I guess I cooked a bit overmuch." "What is it then?" "Be surprised." With quiet astonishment Mom watched as I put on an apron. But I just couldn't let my neat dress get dirty. Even the sweater looked good with it, because the glitter heart couldn't be seen, only the pink sleeves. And they went with my tights. ## For the first time in days we were sitting together on the couch. I enjoyed it and snuggled up to Mom. Her hand stroked absentmindedly across my upper thigh. It felt good. Just a nice pair of pantyhose and it would feel even better. I gave myself over completely to my feminine feelings. Something was going on in her head. Her look seemed focused on me when I came back from the toilet. She looked at me so strangely. Not angry or anything like that - simply strange. Finally she said, "Do you know, with a different hair style, you would really look like a girl." What was I supposed to say? With Svenja's wig I looked like a girl, that I knew. I just nodded. "My hair is too short." "With those little pigtails, you didn't look bad at all. Is it OK if I make them for you again, this time without hair ribbons?" Why not? "OK, Mom." I sat down in front of the couch, and Mom got to work on my hair. I liked it. It felt very good. As far as I was concerned, it could keep on like this; although Mom took a lot of time, she was actually finished in a quarter hour. I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Even without make-up Andrea was here again. Mom had managed it so that the tiny braids didn't look so childish. More like cheeky or impudent. I went back. "It looks great, Mom." Somehow that answer didn't set well with her. What had I said wrong? Or was it, because now I really did look like a girl? ## When I had sat down again, she said, "Stand over there again." I followed her request and posed in front of her. "You look good, but something isn't right." "Of course, Mom, I have no breasts." She looked as though I had uttered a forbidden word. "Aw, c'mon, Mom, I'm not a little kid any more. All the girls in my class have breasts. That simply is a part of being a girl of my age, that's the most normal thing in the world." "Yes, you're right. On all points. I'd forgotten that, I guess." "No wonder, remembering how I've been dressed the last few days," I laughed. "But you would appear much more natural with breasts." I nodded. "I need a bra." "What do you know about bras?" "Mom!!" I didn't say anything else, but she understood what I meant. "I think my little girl - oops, little boy is growing up." "Yes, Mom. You can go ahead and call me a girl. At the moment I don't exactly look like a boy." "Good, Andrea. Then I'd better fetch you a bra, don't you think?" She smirked and went into her bedroom and came back with one of her more modest bras. I took it from her and inspected it critically, then I looked at my dress. "That won't do." "What won't do?" "The cups are too large, your breasts are too big." "Breasts too big? No one has ever said that to me." She seemed a little insulted. "Aw, Mom, I didn't mean it like that. Look how much room there is in my dress and how much this bra needs." "You're right. That won't work." "Girls of my age don't normally have such large breasts," I said professionally. "You seem to know a lot about it." "Mom, I see girls every day." "And apparently just look at their breasts." I just grinned. "Then it looks like we can't do anything about the breasts. Unless..." She hesitated. I knew precisely where a suitable bra was, even one with breast forms. I assumed she was thinking about it, too. But naturally I couldn't give away that I had looked into the boxes. It came to me suddenly, that I hadn't finished my explorations yet. "I have to look up in the attic." A few minutes later she came back with the black bra and the carton with the breast forms. "It's actually all still there," she murmured so I could barely understand. I wasn't supposed to hear it either. "OK, take off your dress and your camisole." I followed her directions and let her put the bra on me. Good, because I didn't want to reveal that I could do that pretty well. Then she took a deep breath and opened the carton. I acted as though it weren't anything special as she put the two forms into my cups. As though it were nothing, I put on my camisole and dress again. I pirouetted before Mom. "Yes, that looks very good," she said with reserve in her voice. I went to the mirror and posed in front of it. Hello, Andrea, I thought. Finally you have come home. I went over to Mom again and sat down next to her. I noticed how she kept glancing at me, but did it in such a way that I might not notice. ## "Rats!" I exclaimed, as I looked at myself in the mirror next morning. I'd forgotten to take apart my braids last evening. I hadn't felt them, and who looks in the mirror before going to bed? Now my hair stuck up high no matter how often I combed over it. I went into the kitchen in underwear and tights. The white tights with the red cherries. "Mom, I can't go to school like this!" "Yes, you really ought to put on a pair of pants." "Mom!! Just look, my hair!" I smoothed it over with my hand and felt how it sprang up again. She smiled. "Mom, that's not funny!" "Oh yes, it is. When you stand there in your cute underwear and these tights..." She held her hand in front of her mouth. I dealt her a deadly look. But for some unexplicable reason she survived. "It will lie down with some gel, dear heart. And with a bit of water it will go away." "I can't wash my hair now, it's a lot too late!" "Apply it with a damp washcloth, then vigorously rub it dry with an towel." And it worked. Moms really are good for some things. ## Biene looked at me knowingly as I stood before her in my lilac-colored sweater. She raised the edge inconspicuously a bit higher and looked at my camisole. A smirk spread out across her face. "Guaranteed, you have the most lovely underwear of all the boys here," she whispered in my ear. How did she mean that? Then her hand disappeared under the sweater and it didn't matter to me any more how she meant it. ## Oh man, I wasn't looking forward to taking off my tights in the cold. What was it that Svenja laid out for me? A dress. She was probably inspired by my appearance from Saturday, the little witch. I couldn't remember of ever having seen this one before. Was she trying to annoy me? And I didn't have anything else to put on. So I did put it on. Above it was like a sweatshirt, made of burgundy- colored thick, soft material, with long sleeves. The skirt was short but very broad. It fell loosely around my upper thighs. When I twisted quickly, it flew high. The skirt was just fine. But around my neck was a wreath of white lace, and there was more of the same at the hem and the sleeves. And across the breast were the words "Sweet Girl." I would murder Svenja. For sure. Now I decided that my tights with the cherries didn't matter. The white ones that Svenja had laid out for me weren't any better. Svenja had also rewoven the braids on the wig. With ribbons in them. I don't know how she'd done it, but I couldn't get them off. That was something that I really didn't like. Walking to Mrs. Weber's in the boots with the pompoms was unusually quiet, no clack-clack was to be heard with these soft soles. That didn't improve my mood. Mrs. Weber couldn't suppress a giggle when she saw me. "Don't you look special?" "A girl friend played a trick on me," I said with some semblance of the truth. "It was very successful. You look like a little girl. These tights; I'm surprised that something like that in your size exists! And the ribbons are the decorative dot above the i." She said all that so sweetly that I couldn't be upset with her. Quickly we both giggled. When she had gone, Mark greeted me just like he always did. Which included running his hands over my tights. But this time I intended to find out. I laid my hand gently on his. "Mark..." "Yes?" "Why are you caressing my leg?" "Because - because you're always dressed so pretty." "And what do you like about that?" That question demanded too much from him; he just looked at me perplexed. "Do you like tights?" "Yes." "Do you want to wear some? I know that you have one." He shook his head. "Why not?" "Mine are tights for boys. They're not so nice. Your's are girls' tights. They are lots better." "Would you like to put on a pair of girl tights?" "Oh yes!" "But no one would see them under your pantlegs." "I don't want to put on any pants." "Just what do you want? Just tights?" "No. Like you do." "Like me?" "Yes. You have on such pretty things over your tights." "You mean my skirts?" "Uh huh," he muttered his agreement. "And did you tell your Mommy about that?" He nodded. "And?" "She doesn't want to give me something like that." What was I to do now? The little boy wanted to dress like a girl. I couldn't imagine that he really wanted to be a girl, he was much too young for that. This was a child's impulse to explore. He didn't know at all that boys aren't allowed to put on girls' clothing. Nor did he know that much clothing for younger children is the same for boys and girls. He probably found the things attractive without recognizing the gender specific meaning. I have to say, the idea appealed to me to dress the little fellow as a girl. But could I do that without the permission of his mother? And where would I be able to get the right articles of clothing? "Do you have something for me?" he asked with hope in his voice. "I have nothing in your size. I'll check to see if I can find something for you," I consoled him. "Can I have the same as you then?" Mark and I in the same dress - what a concept! Ending up in this pink nightmare - although that was almost an idea. Maybe I could dig up exactly such a dress. I sat down at the computer and asked Auntie Google for advice. ## I had just finished changing clothes and taken off the make-up. Something was in my eye. It was tearing up and I couldn't see well. Then it happened: I caught my jeans on a nail and heard a ripping noise. Quickly I grabbed at my leg. Oh no, my pants were torn at least four inches! In spite of my tearful eye I saw the bright tights through the rip. My only pair of pants! I wiped my eye out and set out for home. As I went along my hand held the tear together, so that it wouldn't get even bigger. In vain; by the time I got home it was twice as long. "Mom," I called, "a catastophe!" She rushed to me. When she saw the torn pants, she had to laugh. "I see already, it's dramatic." "Mom, don't make jokes. That's my only pair of pants." "Take them off and go put something else on. I'll look at the damage." When I came back a few moments later, Mom said, "There's nothing that can be done. These are finished." What was I supposed to do now? All I had now was girl clothing, both here and at Svenja's. Lots of it. How could it all come down to this?" ======== Here is a link to pictures of Andrea's clothing http://www.fictionmania.tv/storyimages/ForeignL/Andy.htm/index.htm