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Anne The Geek Giving credit where credit is due, based on a suggested story premise by Beth. --------------------------------------------------------------------- I was only 3 weeks out of high school when the events that would change my life entirely occurred. I was alone at home when I snuck into my little sister's room. I had done it a thousand times before. I'd wait for when mom and Becky were gone, and I'd sneak in and try on her clothes. I loved how they felt. When I felt like dressing older, I used to do it with my Mom's stuff too. My sister's clothes almost fit me because we were so similar in size. I stand an unremarkable 5'4," only 2 inches taller than her. We had similar builds too. I was thin. Only about 130 pounds. My sister hovered between 118 and 120. We were only a year apart and we were always around the same size so fulfilling my cross-dressing needs only took two departures. Our Father died when I was 3 so our mother primarily raised us alone. There were some boyfriends in there, but Mom was usually on her own. She was a wealthy American woman. My English father had made a fortune that became hers upon his death. She was not an extravagant liver. She kept us on a budget and made us work for our allowances. She always felt the need to show us the value of working. She was also a little distant at times, especially when we were young. She was removed because she was big into charity when we lived in England, where my father had worked. We had stayed there for years after he died, and she kept herself active at the charities to deal with it I guess. She was on a number of charitable boards and was always off somewhere while my sister and I were raised by our nanny. Every summer though, I was shuttled of to my Uncle's home in the US. He and his first wife liked to take us in to give my Mom a break. It was nice to be with my older cousins. My Uncle treated us kindly, and our then Aunt doted on us more than our mother ever did. It practically broke my heart when my Uncle divorced her so he could hook up with a younger woman. It was in those summers that I started playing baseball in a summer league. Back in England, I was a football player. It's played here, but it's seen as a sport for girls and guys to wimpy to play American football. I was too small to play American football, but I could play baseball. It came naturally to me. When I was 7, we moved to New Jersey to be closer to my Mom's family. Becky wasn't too thrilled about the whole thing, but I welcomed it. Becky saw it as leaving her legion of childhood friends; I saw it as getting a chance to play baseball regularly for the first time during the spring and fall seasons. We both transitioned nicely to living in the US when we moved here. Our accents weakened as we were surrounded by New Jersey tongues. Neither one of us ever got the true New Jersey accent down. It was more of a bastard hybrid of our youthful accents and those who surrounded us now. My mutant accent notwithstanding, I really became the "All American" boy type. I was fit and a baseball player. It was my only sport, and I was great at it. I was asked by the coach to go out for our "soccer" team, but my boys said that wasn't for "guys like us." I stuck to baseball and became the Capitan of my High School baseball team my senior year. I was the lead off hitter, a speedster short stop. Over my four years, coaches liked to compare me to Chone Figgins, and later Dustin Pedroia, because they were short guys who could really play. Some of the old timers would say I was like Phil Rizzuto too although I doubt they saw him play. However, when I stopped growing in the 10th grade at the height of 5'4," any chance of really making it ended. I know Figgins and Pedroia are listed as taller than 5'6," but I know people who met them, and they told me that's all they were. That seems to be the minimum height to make it, and I wasn't there. Anyway, they are also more muscular than I ever could be. My good play helped forge the image that others had of me as a "dumb jock." Even some of my friends thought all I cared about was sports, partying and getting laid. Of course, that was all a stereotype that was thrust upon me. I was a solid A minus student throughout high school and junior high. I didn't brag about it though. I kept that to my sexual conquests and sports exploits because that was expected of me. I was part of the private school's "popular" clique. I dated a cheerleader named Lisa. She was the flirtiest girl in the school. All the popular students loved her. She was a pretty, blonde haired girl. She was perpetually tan and had b-cup breasts. When she wasn't in her uniforms, she was almost always wearing a skirt, dress, or a shirt and leggings. Lisa was the same height as me, but she weighed only about 100 pounds. She liked to tease me about my height and weight and my shoulder length hair, but she was happy to be the popular Junior dating the popular Senior. I often felt my status meant more to her than I did. That status was a millstone to me. It kept me from exploring who I was. I had to conform to what others wanted me to be as long as I bore that status. I wanted to rebel against what people thought I was. I tried to fashion myself as an outsider even when I was one of the popular kids. My cousin sent me some music from England when I was about 12, and I became a Manic Street Preachers fan. They never made it here and that's why I think I was drawn to them at first. It made me different. By the time I was 15, I had started to listen to their early material. The stuff written before Richey Edwards disappeared. I found myself particularly disappearing into the Holy Bible. I became fascinated with Richey. He wrote all these great songs, got famous, and then one day vanished. Now, I know he's probably dead, but there's always this lingering thought that maybe he's out there somewhere. Maybe he's on an island someplace where he won't have to deal with what he wanted to escape from. I liked to fancy myself as cut from the same cloth, but that's a joke at best. The only thing we shared was a gnawing unhappiness in what our lives were. He was a rock star, idol to thousands. I was schoolyard god, loved by the popular and despised or envied by the rest. I wondered what they'd all think of me if they knew what was inside my head. I hated being a popular kid. I detested the expectations that accompanied the position. My friends were vapid. I constantly had to dumb myself down for them. Lisa was barely any better. She was vain. All the popular girls were. It was all about pretty clothes, showing off body parts, looking pretty, preserving status, tearing down others and having a good time no matter what. Lisa was a smart girl. She was B student without any effort. She never studied. She just coasted by on her natural intelligence and good looks. If she put any effort in, she'd be an honor roller. Sometimes, I'd feel a little like Holden Caulfield in my disgust at those around me. Of course, I was chief among the phonies though. I dumbed myself down, and I made myself out to be the All American male despite how I really felt. I hated that my conversations were limited to hot girls, sports, drugs and alcohol. I hated that my girlfriend cared more for leggings than she did for anyone besides herself. I hated my masculinity. Dressing had always been an escape from me. I could partially escape my masculinity for a few hours here and there. I opened Becky's closet and pulled out a sleeveless, white and red combo dress. I laid it on her bed as I moved towards her dresser. I opened her draws and pulled out a bra, 2 pairs of socks and a pair of white tights. I disrobed and put on the white tights. I felt an immediate sexual rush as I placed my toes in. The feel was always incredible, but there was something about white tights that just seemed more girlish than any other color she had. I had always wanted her to get pink ones, but it never happened. I put on the bra next and stuffed it with the socks before I slipped the dress over my head. I pulled at the dress's banded empire waist and its tiered seersucker skirt. I took out one of her black mini- scrunchies and pulled my hair back and tied it up in a ponytail. I smiled at myself as I looked in the mirror. I looked like a girl from the neck down, and even my head looked girlish despite the lack of makeup. I was aroused as I saw myself. I felt comfortable in those clothes. More comfortable than I ever felt when I wore my own. That was still a discomforting feeling at that time, but not like it once was. When I was younger and dressed, I sometimes felt like I was some sort of freak. I would think, 'Guys don't wear dresses. Everyone knows that, so why was I drawn to it?' I used to wonder if I was gay, but I was only attracted to girls. Still, it didn?t' matter. If anyone knew I dressed as a girl, they'd just assume I was gay. I think my image as a dumb jock was partially shaped by my own response to what I was. I overcompensated when I was young. In my hours of deepest repression, I'd let opportunities to dress slip away. I'd deny myself the release I needed. Sometimes, I'd put on a dress and look at myself and think what my friends would say, "You're a fag." I'd pull the dress off and go play a video game to run from my shame. I'd grown beyond it though. I was comfortable in what I was. I wasn't gay, I was just a cross-dresser. I let it out a little. I had what some would call gay or effeminate mannerisms, but people would just say, "He's English, that's how those men are." Thank you, Hugh Grant. He helped shape the image American have of the English that every English man is a little gay. I turned away from the mirror and saw Becky. I don't know how, but I missed the sound of Mom and Becky coming into the house. Becky was starring at me, gawking. I froze. Well, now, I was out a little bit more than I wanted to be. I waited for her response. Her hand went over her mouth for a moment to muffle laughs. Then she said, "So big sis, you've been sneaking into my closet?" "It's not what you think," I said out of pathetic desperation. How could it be anything than what she thought? I was wearing a dress and tights and had a ponytail. She laughed and said, "It's okay, girl. I won't tell everyone you're a homo. But you have to do exactly as I say, or I'm going and telling Mummy." I looked at Becky. She smiled smugly at me like she had me right where she wanted me. She did. I was screwed. She was going to blackmail me and leave this hanging over me for weeks, if not forever. I put my head down. I heard Becky laugh and say, "That's a good girl." Then I put my head back and pushed right by her as I heard my mother walking into the hallway. I looked at Becky's stunned face as I exited her room. "Mom, I'm a cross-dresser," I announced loudly. I heard Becky gasp. My mother was taken aback a little, but she didn't seem especially shocked. She walked over to me and pulled me towards the hall light. She turned it on and looked back at me. She examined me. She slowly took in my appearance. The silence between us was killing me. Becky looked on with curiosity over where our mother was going with this. Finally, my mother spoke, "I already knew you were cross-dresser." I was shocked, I asked, "How?" "Well, it started with unexplained runs in my stocking and hosiery when you were younger. Then it was wrinkles on clothes I had ignored, and you stretched out the heels straps of at least two of my shoes. I was just waiting for you to admit it." Becky was aghast, she asked, "Why didn't you tell me? Do you know how long I could have held this over him?" Mom, shook her head and said, "That's why I didn't tell you. You can't tell anyone, Becky. If you hurt your brother like that, I'll ground you for a year. You won't get a car when you turn 17 in a few weeks. Hell, I won't get you one period. You'll be the senior on the school bus. No prom. No boys. Nothing. Do you understand?" Becky nodded and looked pissed. She snapped at my mother, "Well, can you at least tell the little pansy to stop wearing my clothes?" "Oh, yes, of course, dear. Jack, you have to stop wearing your sister's clothes. I'll get you your own. Are we understood?" "Yes, Mummy," I replied in a way I had often wished I would. It was an imitation of my sister's frequent response to our mother's words. I went to go get my clothes from Becky's room. I carried them out as Becky gave me a pissed look. She said, "Get out of my clothes." I walked towards my bedroom to change, but my mother said, "No, Jack. Don't change yet. I want you to come down and talk to me in the kitchen. Becky, you stay up here. I need to talk to Jack alone." I nodded and threw my clothes into my room and headed down the stairs. I walked into the kitchen and waited for her. Mom came down and sat beside me at the table. She smiled and said, "I'm glad you told me." "Well, I didn't have much choice once Becky caught me." "Yes, that's true. Still, I need you to be honest with me." "Okay." "Do you want to be a girl?" I cringed and said, "No." "I told you not to lie." "I'm, I'm?I'm, I'm sorry," I finally managed to say after trying hard to deny I was lying. "It's okay. I know this must be hard for you. You've kept it hidden for so long, but I've known for a while." "You have?" "Yes. I've know since you were at least 8. You were so jealous of your sister's Easter dress. It was so cute." "Then, why didn't you say anything?" "This isn't the kind of thing you can do that with, sweetie. You had to come to it on your own. If I had said I thought you were a girl trapped in a man's body when you were 13, what would you have said?" "I would have denied it." "Of course, you would. You've been trained to deny yourself." "Yes, I used to do that, but I'm past it, now." "I know. You're definitely more effeminate then you used to be." "You picked up on it?" "Yes. It's hard to live with someone and not notice that. Now, I've got to ask you. Have you thought about a sex change?" "No. I don't think I want it. It's too big of a change. I'm not there." My mother nodded and said, "That's okay. You don't want to jump into anything full boat anyway, but if you do. I'm here for you." "Thanks," I replied. "Do you know what kind of girl, you'd like to be?" I blushed and said, "No." She read my humiliation and said, "Please, dear, speak your mind. I need to hear it. I need to know what you want. It's the only way I can help you." "It's too humiliating." "No. It's not. Is it anymore humiliating than having your sister see you dressed like that?" "Maybe." "Come on, tell me." I shrugged and said, "I want to be a nerd." "Why?" My mother said with a laugh. "Mom, I've always been this jock with jock friends and surrounded by stupid girls. I want to be able to talk to people about something other than sex, sports and drugs." "So you want something more than you can get as yourself?" "Yes. I want to be something completely different. I don't want to be one of those stupid girls, concerned only with boys and clothes. I want to talk about something real." "I want you to tell me all about your fantasy." "Okay. Here it is. I'd like to be a plain girl. I want to blend in to a crowd. I don't want to stand out. I like to fantasize that I'm this shy girl that has a small group of friends made up of my fellow outcasts. I like to dream that I'm a waif wearing glasses?" "I understand. I'm going to help you." "How?" "You leave that to Mom, dear." With that she stood up and left. I went to my room and got changed. I carried Becky's clothes back to her room. I knocked on her door, and she let me in. I gave her back her clothes. She took them all back but the tights. She looked at them and said, "I want you to have them because after you put your junk in them on, I'm never wearing them again." I blushed and said, "I'm sorry about that." "Don't be. It's probably genetic." "What's genetic?" "Your sexuality. That's what I heard in health class." I tried to surmise what she was saying and responded, "I'm not gay." "You really want me to believe that. Jack, hello, straight guys don't wear dresses. That's what the gays do. It doesn't bother me, Jack. You don't have to lie. I love gay guys. They're clean and know goods shoes when they see them, but I have to tell you. You should break it off with Lisa. This isn't fair to her." "First of all, I'm not gay. Not all cross-dressers are gay. Secondly, Lisa doesn't care about my sexuality. All she cares about is her social status. By the fall, she'll break up with me and try to hook up with a senior to cement her place on top of our school." Becky believed the latter part of my statement, since she had known Lisa since we moved here. They weren't friends. They moved in different circles. Becky was a high achiever and a soccer player. She was a scholar athlete that teachers loved; Lisa was the bimbo cheerleader that boys wanted to screw. Becky showed me to the door and said, "I wasn't actually going to tell anyone, Jack. You know that. I only wanted a slave to my bidding." I smiled at what I knew were true words coming from her mouth. I wasn?t going to change her opinion of me, but at least I knew that she would never try to hurt me intentionally. I went back into my room and turned on the TV. After a little while, I heard my Mom knocking on my door. I opened it, and she walked in. She sat on my bed and motioned at me to sit beside her. I did. She looked at me and said, "I've contacted this clinic that I know of in the City. They can help you." "How?" "They're going to transform you into the girl you want to be." "What?" "It's going to be a long process. They're going to help you drop as much weight as you want. They're going to give you prosthetics, clothes and a new family." "A new family?" "Yes. We'll pay for you to be taken in by a family that's going to move into this neighborhood. You'll be helping pay for their house." "Who are they?" "Whoever, the clinic can find that they know is willing to do it." "But what about you?" "That's why you're going to be in the neighborhood. You can come by and visit. You can call. It'll be like you went away to college." "What will I do for a year?" "You'll be a high school junior, but this time, the girl you want to be. The clinic is an expert at creating false identities." I was more than a little intrigued. I asked, "What will I tell everyone? How can I explain my disappearance?" "Just tell them you're going to stay with your father's family in England for a year." "I could do that, but I don't know if I should. I mean, how much will all this cost?" "A bit." "How much?" "Don?t worry, I can easily afford it. I need you to be happy. You need this chance." "What about college?" "Put it off a year or two." "You're serious, aren't you?" "Yes, dear. I think that you have to do this. You have to know if you're just fantasizing or if you really want to change your life so drastically down the road. Think of it as a test run." I nodded and said, "When can I go?" "You're leaving in a week." "You made reservations already?" "Yes. I knew you'd do it. You need this." I nodded as she stood up and left the room. I spent the next week getting myself ready. I told all of my friends and Lisa that I was going away for year to visit my family in England. They all wished me a good trip and time. I tried to steel myself for the change. I spent a lot of time with my Mom. The clinic treatment was going to take 2 months. I would be gone for 2 months, and then I'd be going to the home of strangers to be their daughter/tenant. Becky knew all about it. She knew I was going away. She wished me the best, but she made clear that she wouldn't help me when I went back to school. I was all right with that. I didn't expect her to. The day I was due to enter the clinic, my Mom drove me into the city. I looked at the discreetly name building. I walked in with my Mom and signed in. I kissed her goodbye and said a tearful farewell before I went into the patient's area where I'd be turned into a new me. I was taken to a glorified hotel room and given a pink robe that I was to wear around the facility. I was taken almost immediately in to have my body hair removed. I was stripped of my clothes, which I would no longer be allowed to posses. I would only be allowed to wear my robes over the next 2 months. My hair was removed, and my skin was rubbed with lotion. The clinics workers told me all my prosthetics would be given when I met my goal weight. The clinic's dietician asked what it was so they could set my diet. I thought back again to Richey Edwards. Richey claimed he got down to 6 stone and he was 5'8". I figured I could get myself down to 7 stone. The dietician drafted up a crash-diet to help me lose the 32 pounds to reach 98 lbs. The dietician carefully explained that such rapid weight loss could jeopardize my immune system. I shrugged it off. I didn't think about that. All I could think about was being the thin girl of my dreams. Another employee came in and asked about accessories. They saw I'd asked for an eye color change. I wanted my hazel eyes to be green, but they also saw that I'd asked for glasses. The male employee asked, "Would you like fake glasses or do you want real bad eyesight?" I hemmed and hawed and the man explained, "If someone picked up your fake glasses and looked at them, they'd know they're fake. Do you understand?" I nodded and said, "Then give me real ones." The man said, "Fine. Now, you've asked for braces. Would you like standard metal, or would you prefer colored braces. You're going to be a girl so pink is often chosen." I nodded and said, "I'd love pink braces." The man nodded and said, "You also said you want curly hair?" "Yes." "Well, we're going to get started with those changes because they're not effect by your weight loss." "Okay," I replied before I was taken in for my last treatment of the day. I was taken in for color contacts and glasses. My eyes were examined for contacts first, while I waited for them to be made, the optometrist asked, "How bad do you want your eyesight?" "Well, I always liked thick glasses. How little can we do to get that?" The man shrugged and said, "Pretty bad. I'll work on it." The man made me up a prescription pair of glasses that instantly hurt my head as my eyes strained to see. The man laughed and said, "You'll be having headaches for a while." After I got my contacts, I was helped back to my room. I wanted to pull off the glasses as they made me feel ill as I looked through them, but I knew I needed them on to train my eyes. The clinic's employees came in and brought me a liquid meal. I was told that was all I was going to eat going forward. I felt a little queasy given the glasses. The only relief I got from my glasses was sleep. The next morning, I ate a bowl of oatmeal. It was the thickest meal, I'd be permitted. I was immediately taken to the gym and placed on a treadmill. Given my excellent conditioning, I easily withstood the hour and half of running they made me do. They then took me for my dental work. The orthodontist got to work on my teeth. He spent well over an hour putting on my braces. The man showed me new teeth, but I really couldn't see them given the glasses. I pulled them off for a second and smiled with excitement at the pink braces on my teeth. After another hour and a half of running, I was taken for lunch. Another liquid meal was served. I began to feel weak. I was taken to the clinics salon right after lunch. They got to work on me. They thinned out my eyebrows before they curled my hair. The eyebrows were a relief because I could finally see again without my glasses, but they were back on as they started with my hair. My hair was curled chemically so I wouldn't have to do it with curlers. I smiled as I watched my straight hair appear to take on a curl. I still couldn't really see. I snuck a peek by lowering my glasses and was more than satisfied. They then had my ears pierced, but I declined a nose or tongue piercing. I had dinner after that and was brought to my room. I feel asleep quickly out of exhaustion. After eating breakfast and running again the next day, I was taken in for vocal training. The girl kept teaching me to strain my voice to sound more feminine. I had to keep in character; I was not permitted to speak in my male voice. Over the next two months, I was kept on a liquid diet. I was forced to run on the treadmill for 3 hours a day. I watched my weight plummet as I felt like I was starving all the time. Sometimes felt like the anorexic girl from one of Ritchey's songs. It was disconcerting at times to feel and see my body wasting away. My little muscle mass was burned away, leaving me looking like nothing more than skin and bones. I felt as weak as I looked. The vocal training worked near miraculously. By the end of the first month, I really couldn't remember the natural sound of my own voice. My accent was natural gone. I sound completely like a dorky, Jersey girl. My eyes grew more accustomed to the glasses by the day. By the end of the first month, I couldn't see without those thick glasses in that Lisa Loebish style. At the end of the treatment, I was the 98 lb beanpole. The day before I was set to leave, I was taken in for my prosthetics. The woman doing the prosthetics made my molds and started with my body. The woman put on my artificial vagina. I felt my junk being pulled around. It enlarged a bit, bringing a blush to my face and a smirk to the employee. She hooked it up and said, "Well, now Jackie, you can pee just like a girl." I blushed again. She went back to work. She situated my breasts forms and glued them on. She used special makeup that made them appear seamlessly attached to my chest. I looked at my thin face as the employee started working on a fake nose. She took of my glass so she could attach it. She attached it and put my glasses back on so I could see it. It made my nose look bulbously. The girl then stood me up and brought me to the stylist. I was given multiple school uniforms. The woman also brought me all of my new "nerd" clothes for outside of school. They were so unfashionable. I had insisted on a skirt and dress heavy wardrobe, and they were all horribly out of style. I loved the tights and pantyhose that were all going to be mine as well the shoes. I couldn't have been happier to have a full woman's wardrobe. After one last liquid dinner, I was brought in for counseling. I was going back into the world as Anne Gardner. The counselor explained, "You're living with a family known as the Gardners. They bought a home a few blocks from your own with our help. They are essentially your foster mother and father. You will be living there for the next 2 years." "Wait, 2 years?" "Yes." "My Mom told me I was going for a year." "She paid for two." "But?" "Listen, Anne, I didn't make that decision. You go and talk to your mom if you have a problem with it. Are we clear?" "Yes, sir," I said. "Good girl. You have been assigned back to your old high school. The full records of Anne Gardner have been provided to your high school. You are scheduled to start school in a week." I nodded and was dismissed. I anxiously waited for the day to end so I could go to sleep. The next morning, my stuff was packed up, and I was sent in a cab to my new home with the Gardners. I remember walking to that cab for the first time as Anne. It was first day of September, and it was my first moments outside the clinic in 2 months. I had missed the whole summer, but it was worth it. I was Anne. I walked to the cab with confidence dressed in a red, pleated front blouse, and an unflattering blue, cotton, smocked waist skirt. I kept fantasizing about my new life as I was driven to the Gardners. When I got there, Mr. Gardner or "Dad" as I was to call him helped take in my bags from the car. I was brought to my bedroom. It was nice. The house was nice. Everything was less than 5 years old so it wasn't run down like some of the houses on the block. "Dad" and "Mom" sat me down after I finished unpacking and set forth some ground rules. I was to only call them those names because we all couldn't afford a slip up. I agreed, and we went on to discuss "Mom's" driving of me. I hadn't really thought about that. I no longer had a car because I was only old enough for a learners permit now according to all my identification. After dinner, I headed out to my mother's home. I walked the three blocks over to her home. I looked into my car as I walked past it and headed for the door. I hesitated before I knocked on the door. I heard a rumbling inside. My mother opened the door and said, "Can I help you miss?" I smiled and said, "I'm Anne." "That's nice, miss. How can I help you?" "Mum," I said with a fake British accent that still sounded girlish. My mother did a double take before she said, "Come on inside, and it's Mrs. Smith, dear." I smiled and said, "Of course." She took me into the kitchen and got a good look at me. She shook her head and said, "I can't believe it's you. You don't look a thing like my son. You're a dainty little thing, Anne. I bet if a baseball hit you now, you'd break a bone." I blushed at her analysis of my new physical weakness and said, "I think so, Mrs. Smith." She hugged me and said, "Sit and tell me all about the clinic." I told everything. She was mesmerized by the story. She was fascinated with all I had gone through. When I told her about the prosthetics, she smiled and said, "Well, maybe, if you switch back, you can keep that so I don't have to worry about the seat being up around here." I shook my head, ignoring that she wondered if I would go back to being Jack. I thought then that I would. It was just a matter of time. I heard Becky come in. She walked into the kitchen and looked at me. She looked at me curiously as she tried to figure out who I was. I saw surprise in her eyes as it dawned on her. Her face was aghast as she looked at my slender physique. She shook her head and said, "You're so thin." "Thank you," I replied. "What the hell kind of diet were you on?" I explained the diet and my time at the clinic to her. She was amazed. As it was getting late, I said goodbye to them. Becky couldn't help but gloat though, "Mom, gave me your car in exchange for my silence." I shrugged and said, "Becky, I'm 16, now, and I don't even have a learners permit. Enjoy the car." She smirked and said, "Don't expect me to give you a ride, Junior. It's seniors only in my car." I smiled and embraced her. I hugged them goodbye and started back to the Gardners. I unlocked the door to my new home and headed up to my room. I lay on top of the flower patterned comforter. I looked up at the blank walls that I was going to have to decorate. I stripped, crawled under the covers and went to sleep in my new bedroom. I spent the week before I was due back at school setting up my new life. I bought school supplies. I liked having pink pencils and a pink school bag for the first time. Pink was always my favorite color, now I could finally show it. I decorated my room too. I bought some Twilight posters. I think Kristen Stewart is hot, but I know the girls like the boys, so I could pretend to too. I bought a Lady Gaga poster too. I was always ashamed about liking her music because her fans are largely girls or gay. I wasn't either as Jack, but now I was free to like her stuff as a girl. I didn't have to worry about being overheard listening to her music anymore. The first day of school came. Usually I dreaded it as it symbolized the loss of my freedom, but I was looking forward to it now. I was ready to be Anne. I was going to be myself there for the first time in a long time. I ate breakfast and dressed in above the knee length solid grey school uniform skirt over my grey tights. I put on the school issued long sleeve, white blouse and the required green and yellow tie. I picked up the uniforms green sweeter and moved towards my shoes. They were black, patent-leather 1-inch heels. I had always loved them when I saw girls wearing them around school. Now, I was finally getting my chance. I made myself a lunch to take with me and headed down to the bus stop where I saw two students waiting. I knew them by face. The male was a junior, and the girl was a sophomore. They looked at me and looked at each other with smiles. I could tell that I was the dweebist thing they'd seen since the end of the last school year. The bus came, and I sat towards the front. That's where the nerds sat. I always sat in the back when I was Jack, but I wasn't cool enough anymore. Now, I'd be abused if I sat there. As we came to each stop, the students entering would look at me as the new face. I was an unremarkable new one. No one bothered to say high or introduce themselves. It was a rush because the last time I rode the bus as a junior, my fellow students practically paid tribute to me. I saw the school I had graduated from as we came down the road. I was going back for another year at least. I hated it when I was a man, but I was sure I'd love it as a girl. I took out my schedule that had been mailed to my home with the Gardners and headed to homeroom. No one said hello to me. I sat in silence for the first time ever in school. I wasn't the focal point anymore, I was someone to be ignored. I loved it. I was assigned a locker and went out and put some stuff in it. As I did, I caught sight of Lisa walking down the hallway with her friend Tara. Lisa looked down at me and said, "Nice glasses" before they burst out laughing. I blushed as I was overcome with sexual excitement over being humiliated like that by her. I went to my first class and it was just like homeroom. No one said a word to me. It was the same all day until lunchtime. When lunchtime came, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know anyone in the cafeteria. I took my paper-bagged lunch and headed for the girls room. It was an interesting experience. I had never been in one of the girl's rooms before. Besides the pink walls and lack of urinals, it wasn't that different from the men's rooms. I was kind of hoping for cushioned seats. I went into one of the bathroom stalls and started eating. As I ate, I thought about what I was doing. I was the king of that school 4 months earlier, now I was sitting on a toilet in the girl's bathroom during lunchtime. I was the focal point of a table every day at lunchtime during my time as Jack. Now, I wasn't even at a table. I wasn't the king, I was the biggest loser in the school. I loved how it made me feel, but a part of me wondered if I was nuts. How could I tolerate this for a year? I stuck it out through lunch in the girl's bathroom. I then headed to my other classes, where I was again ignored. I made a point of trying to meet girls in my general position by going to the Majorettes tryout after school. I had twirled with my sister's baton when I was little and no one was around. I was pretty good at it, but that was a long time ago. I didn't think I'd make the team, but at least I'd get to meet some girls. One of the girls introduced herself as Melanie. She was in my math and chemistry classes. She wore glasses and had braces like me. She had greasy looking hair and a few zits on her face. She was definitely the type of girl I was trying to be friend as Anne. We started to chat as the girls auditioned. I watched intently trying to get down what was expected of me. Melanie chatted with me though. She asked where I was from, and I made some stuff up. I asked about her life, and she filled me in. I really broke through when I asked what type of music she liked. "I'm all about dance. So Gaga's it right, now." "Really? I love her." We got to chatting about her music while the other girls auditioned. Finally, Melanie was called up. She blew the other girls away. She had every little move and throw down. She did cartwheels and front walkovers with precision. I couldn't compete with it when I went. I went up there, and I did okay. I basically did an imitation of Melanie. I was good enough to make the first cut. The other girls were just not that good with the exception of one who gave Melanie a run for being the best at this. The coaches made us go again as they were getting us down to the final squad. The coach called out the final makers of the cut. I was called last. I made it. I had no idea, how. The coach dismissed those that missed the cut. My natural athletic ability had carried the day for me. The coach called the team together. Me and Melanie stood next to each other as she said, "You girls all made it because you all demonstrated natural dance ability, gracefulness, rhythm and sufficient skills. Congratulations. We will meet every Tuesday and Thursday for the semester. Congratulations again and have a good day." I got a hug from Melanie who was happy to have me aboard. It was the first time she'd gone out for anything. She was a wallflower just like I now was. We parted, and I went home. I waited anxiously for bed time as I was desperate to get back to school to spend more time with Melanie. I hopped into bed early and waited for the morning. The next day, I met up with Melanie in Math Class. I was happy to find out that she was in my lunch period. I was happy to have a place to sit. As I put my stuff away before lunch, I saw Lisa again. She looked at me and said to her friend, "Look at that freak. With those glasses and that hair, you know she has no style." Lisa then looked at me with a smile that let me know she intended for me to hear it. I blushed and headed down to the cafeteria and sat with Melanie at the "loser's table." I said hello to Melanie's friends as she introduced me to them. There were 3 guys and 5 girls including Melanie. I was happy to be the ninth person. The guys were nice to me, especially the single one's John and Eric, but I found myself more at home with the girls. There was Karen, who was fashionable. She was dressed like a runway model in her tights, shorts, heels, and flannel shirt. She let me know that she was obsessed with fashion. I wasn't surprised. Many girls deemed unattractive find solace in fashion to cover up their flaws with something others say is pretty. I kind of got on the same page with her when Melanie started talking about Gaga. Karen made clear to note that she was proud of Gaga's success because she didn't do it by being beautiful. Erica, another one of them, was a self-professed Wiccan. There's always at least one in High School. She was very much a feminist until her boyfriend came around. Tony rather kept her on a rather short leash. The other two girls were named Krystal and Cheryl and were vanilla. There was nothing about them. They rather kept to themselves. I think they were uncomfortable around me because I was new. As I talked with Melanie and Karen, Karen said, "Why don't you come down to Glee Club with us?" "I don't know. I just made the majorettes." "No. That's why it's perfect, Anne. Glee meets on Mondays, Wednesday, and Friday. They don't overlap except when you've got to perform with one, but that's rare," Melanie explained. I relented and went with them to the Glee Club. There wasn't a competition of any real variety because of the dearth of applicants. We had to show off what we could do. Me and Melanie were immediately put in the chorus. We weren't good enough to be leads. Karen, however, was. She could really belt them out. I figured it was for the best. I was part of the chorus. It suited me because I would be just one in the crowd from then on. The next day, I experienced my first scare at school. I was standing in front of my locker when Lisa and Tina came by and shoved me into it. They didn't lock me in, but the message was clear. I was their new favorite target. I emerged to laughter from my fellow students. They were the very same students that had looked at me like royalty a few months earlier. Now, I was scum beneath their shoes. I should have hated it, but I loved it. It was part of why I wanted to be Anne. It was in gym class that the real scare arose. It was our first real gym class. The first day was formalities, this was an actual class. I felt a little awkward in the girl's changing room since I was still attracted to them. I liked what I saw. It was a much better experience than the boy's room. I managed to stay away from anyone though so no one noticed my occasional leers. We were playing softball. Lisa was in the class and was of course picked to be a team Capitan. She and another girl picked their teams. I had been the best ballplayer in the school, but to those girls I looked like someone who couldn't swing a bat. I was picked last by the other girl, named Mo. It was a bit of a rush to be thought of as so physically deficient to be picked last. I was placed in the outfield where the others deemed spazzes played. I got a chance to bat. I saw the ball through my thick glasses and timed my swing. I smoked one down the line like I did when I was Jack. My legs weren't as strong so I didn't run quite as fast but I made it to second. Lisa called over to her friend from short, "Now, we know she's a dyke." Laughter broke out around me. I buried my chin into my chest, but my embarrassment was only prolonged when a counselor who was standing on the side of the field called out to me and Lisa. He was disturbed by Lisa's conduct. He took us off the field and away from the class so we could "work out" our problems. He brought us to his office and tried to get Lisa to apologize, which she did half-heartedly. He wasn't impressed. He said he'd be outside the door and that he expected us to talk it over. He was such a tool. Girls like Lisa don't talk it over with girls like me. I knew that too well from when I was Jack. Lisa looked at me and said, "Just say something to him so we can get the hell out of here." "Like what?" "Like, I apologized and said I didn't mean it. That bullshit." I clutched my face and my contact fell out. Lisa saw it. She looked at me and said, "Why are you wearing contacts and glasses?" "I have a special eye condition," I countered weakly. Lisa looked at me and looked into my hazel eye. She smiled and said, "You vain bitch. You wear color contacts." Then she froze. She looked at my face. She looked at my eye again. She said, "No." "No, what?" I said with a tremble that gave myself away. "Jack?" "Jack who?" "Jack?" "No. I'm not Jack. I'm Anne." "Jack Smith?" Her horror grew. "I'm?" "Cut the shit, you perv. What's going on here? What happened to you?" I explained everything to her. She shook her head as I finished and said, "I can't believe I dated you." "Well, you didn't know?" "How could you not tell me you're gay?" I froze and said, "I'm not. I just want to be a woman. I guess it would be fair to say that I'm more of lesbian." "Spare me, Jack. You want to be a woman. You're gay." "Please don't tell anyone, Lisa," I pleaded. "Oh, I won't, but only if you do something for me, Anne." "What?" "I want you to come to a party at my house tomorrow night. My parents are away so it's going to be great." "Why?" "Because I want you there. Am I clear?" "Yes." "Now, go outside and tell that damn counselor we're good. Okay?" "Yes, Lisa." I went outside and cleared things up. We were sent back to class, which was ending anyway. We changed and went our separate ways. After a second Majorettes practice where we were sized up for our uniforms, I headed home. The next day was much like the prior two. I was at home with geeks and an outcast with the rest of the school who was worthy of only derision. That day at Glee, was a bit of new experience as we did our first real training. Barbara was one of the seniors who was big into choreography. She demonstrated some dance steps for us to follow. The teacher in charge, Mr. Moore, was sort of a control freak about the stuff, but he liked to let the senior members have their input. Mr. Moore broke us up so we could perform Barbara's dance. I was to dance with Carl. Carl was a heavy guy. I had made fun of him over the years for his weight, my younger friends still did. He wasn't a bad guy. He was a bit effeminate so that just made the abuse he took worse. My friends liked to rag on him about being gay, what would they think of me getting picked up by him while dressed like a girl. The music started and we began to sing. I followed another girl and danced towards Carl. He picked her up and placed her down. Then it was my turn. I felt an instant rush as his powerful arms lifted me so easily. My feet hit the ground and I continued the routine, but my brain kept thinking about Carl and me. I was always attracted to girls. I loved everything about them. I loved their hair, their smell, they way they moved, but, now, I was no longer drawn to it. My physical attraction to them was waning. I more saw them as good looking, but not in a sexual way. Now, I had grown tired of Lisa when I was Jack, but this was something knew for me. I wondered if I had grown tired of all girls or was no longer straight. Part of me wondered if all the changes I had done to myself had registered in my brain so that it stopped wanting what it could no longer have. To be honest with myself, I was in no position to get a girl anymore. Maybe, I was just accepting it. I was hardly attracted to men, however. A part of me was curious. It was a small part. Part of my fantasies really. I thought it was anyway. I didn't know if I was gay, turning gay, had always been gay or was bisexual or a heterosexual. I didn?t' really feel any genuine sexual attraction to anyone since I had undergone the change. I began to wonder if I was a-sexual. My train of thought was broken as Mr. Moore broke in, "Girls, girls, girls! That's not how we do it. We step, pivot, get picked up. Then we land gracefully, dance back and you second girls fall into the boys arms while you first girls spin once 360 degrees. Sometimes, I swear I would just like to be in your show heels because men make such better women than women." The smile left my face as I heard those words. I figured he knew. I couldn't have been more wrong. Mr. Moore continued, "Here, let me show you how it's done. Hank come here." Hank was a pretty boy who had joined to try get into Barbara's pants. I could see this wasn't what he thought he was getting into when he joined. He grimaced as he approached Mr. Moore. Mr. Moore showed us how to do it as he ended in the arms of a slate faced Hank. Mr. Moore thanked Hank and said, "See that girls. That's how we do it, and we do it with a smile, Melanie." "Yes, Mr. Moore," Melanie replied. I felt bad for her as she was called out. That was Mr. Moore though. He always had to be a bitch. Some of the girls laughed at Melanie. It was pathetic because she was better than the lot of them. I pursed my lips and we got back to practicing the moves. After Glee Club, I went home and dressed for Lisa's party. I put on a polyester blue and green patterned skirt and a floral print halter- top. I brushed my hair and put on some makeup. I grabbed my pocketbook and headed down the road. I walked the 10 blocks to Lisa's home. I heard the party going on. I could see inside from the street. The place was full of my friends among the underclassmen from my senior year. One of them had his arm around Lisa. He was as popular as Jack Smith ever was. I knocked on the door. I saw someone look at the window and call out to Lisa, "She's here." Lisa opened the door. Lisa called everyone to the doors I saw all of my friends who hadn't gone away to college yet staring back at me. They all started to laugh at my presence. Lisa looked down at my skirt and said, "Nice skirt" before they all burst into laughter. Tina shouted, "I can't believe she showed up? What an idiot. She's such a loser." That only prompted more laughter as I shrunk. Lisa moved the door and started to close it. Lisa mouthed the word "loser" to me as she shut me out of a party full of my friends. I was Anne in all their eyes now. I was Anne the loser not Jack the center of attention. >From then on, things actually got better with Lisa. She ignored me. I was no longer picked on by her. I think she understood I got pleasure out of it, so she wanted to deny it to me. I was beneath her contempt now. Not even worthy of her snide remarks. The other girls and some of the popular guys made fun of me. Each one of them, I had called a friend now treated me like dirt. I loved it. I sort of egged them on guess when I intentionally said out loud that I thought one of the guys was hot. They made fun of him, and he took it out on me. Well, only when other guys were around. Otherwise, I think he was flattered. I wasn't surprised, he was always looking for anything to enhance his already large ego. It didn't matter who thought he was hot, he was just happy whenever he knew someone did. It took me two weeks before I even saw my sister in the school. It was a big school. She looked at me and winked as she went by. That was as much contact as she'd ever give me in school. In those days, what I looked forward to was my first performance with the majorettes. We were to perform at homecoming with the marching band. Our school had a deal with the local public high school where we had a joint homecoming and played an exhibition football game against each other. I had a feeling that our school did it for the students, and their school did it because they liked to beat up the preps team each year. I had never been in the homecoming parade except for last year when I was my school's homecoming king, because I was too small to play American football at any real level. I wasn't disappointed when the day finally came. Homecoming was one of the best days of my life. I walked through town dressed in shinny nude tights that looked like the type that Hooter's girls wear. The uniform was a sequined camisole leotard with a skirt in our schools colors. The shoes were a little disappointing since they were only plain white sneakers. I loved parading through the center of town dressed in my majorette's uniform. I felt free as I twirled my baton and danced down the street before the band. I felt like I was finally being myself. I was only one of the crowd now, but I was definitely a girl in the crowd. I smiled at my Mom who had come down with my sister to see the parade. She gave me a wink as I walked past. I was elated. Right after the homecoming game, I ran home and changed, and then went to see my Mom. She let me in, and we talked. She said, "You looked so graceful out there." "Thank you, Mummy. I loved it. I felt so right, you know?" "I could see that from your smile. I never saw that on you when you played ball." "No. I never felt that then. I'm a new girl." "Clearly," she said with a hesitation. I wondered if she was not as happy with this as she let on. I asked, "Is there something wrong mom?" "No, Anne. It's not you. I never thought when you were young that this was going to happen." I smiled and said, "Well, how could you? This is a little odd, I'll give you that?" She shrugged and said, "I was a little shocked when I uncovered your cross-dressing, but I overcame it. I understood it as best I could. It's just a little harder, Anne, when you realize your son should have been your other daughter." "I can relate," I said with a smile. She put her hand on me and said, "I know it must have been tough for you growing up a boy. Having to sneak around to get into a skirt, but I have to ask. Where did you learn to twirl like that?" "Watching, Becky when she was young. I used to steal her baton and practice. I used to try to copy what she learned at ballet class, twirling, gymnastics. Everything she did before she turned to sports." Mom laughed and said, "Becky would kill for your athleticism, and you'd kill for her girly-girl childhood. Life's not fair, I suppose." "No, it isn't, Mom," I said. She kissed my forehead and said, "I love you, dear. But you better get going; it's getting near dinner time." I smiled, left, went home and ate with the Gardners. In the following weeks, I became even closer with Karen and Melanie. The others in their group warmed up to me too. The girls and I would watch the Twilight movies together. We had our debate about which actor was hotter. I came down on team Jacob side because that's were Melanie was. A girl's got to go with her best friend went she doesn't have a horse in the race I suppose. The whole group, girls and guys, would periodically go bowling or we would go to one of our houses and watch movies or TV shows. Eric kind of hit on me during one of those nights, but I set him straight that I was a lesbian. He told everyone. I thought I was done with them. I thought I blew it, but no one cared. I couldn't believe it. When I was popular, the slightest hint of homosexuality was fatal to your reputation. With these girls, no one cared. The guys did, but only because they wanted to "watch" me with another girl. At least Erica kept her boyfriend in check, which was very unlike her. The whole group was close enough that they all came down to our first Glee performance in the auditorium. With Karen singing one of the leads while Melanie and I danced together in matching black and white dresses with tiered skirts. I loved dancing around in heels and tights while singing show tunes and light rock and pop classics. Like being with the majorettes, it felt right. I never felt it playing sports, but I felt that I was being myself by performing with the girls and guys of the Glee Club. I felt happier gliding along the stage in rhythmic steps and leaps in my 2 inch heels and Glee dress. I know a man would feel ridiculous dressed the way I was, especially in front of a crowd, but I loved it. I relished wearing the dress, the pantyhose, and the heels. I loved being one of the girls. I even liked the feeling of the boys' hands on me as it just served to reinforce who I now was. My Mom came down for that performance too. I went to see her soon after. She said I was terrific. She said, "I'd never know you were Jack up there." I tried hard to figure out what that meant for me. Jack was gone. I doubted he could come back, and I really wanted to stay another year in High School with the girls so we could all graduate together. She prodded at me and asked, "You look so natural up there. Have you reconsidered a sex change?" "No," I said firmly. I had decided not to have one. I was happy being a girl for two years, but I think I would be better off a she- male than a transsexual. I explained that to her. She was a little take aback. She was prepared for me to become a woman. I think that she was not prepared for my decision to straddle two genders. I backtracked and said, "I haven't made any decision yet. I think I want to stay Anne for another year. Then, I'll decide if Jack should return." "Just remember, dear. Anne's welcome here once she graduates high school. We'll move if we have to." "I know, Mom." I said goodbye to her again and walked home. The following Monday, Lisa said her first words to me in a long time. She asked me to help write her paper for class. She was trying to get a good grade to help lock up her college of choice. It was a fairly middling college that her grades called for. I figured if I refused, she'd just tell everyone who I really was. So, feeling I had no choice in the matter, I helped out my ex-girlfriend and ex- tormentor. I went to her home the next three days after Glee Club and Majorette practice. As I finished up her paper, Lisa thanked me. She actually thanked me. I was shocked so I replied, "You're welcome. And I want to thank you for not telling any of our friends about me." Lisa looked at me sternly, "First off, they're my friends, not yours. They were friends of Jack's, but he's gone. They don't hang out with girls like you, and neither do I." "Okay, I'm sorry," I said as I packed up. "Let's be clear, Anne. If my friend's ever knew what happened to Jack, they'd never talk to him again. He'd be treated like a freak. I won't tell them about him. Not for Jack, not for you, what's become of him. No. I won't tell them for me. Do you know how I ashamed I am? That I was dating a fag who goes around prancing about in a dress and heels, goes around twirling a baton, and be manhandled on stage by male Gleetards. I would be ruined." "I don't think they'd care," I countered. "Oh, they'd care. Any little slip is all the others are looking for to take me down. I worked too hard to get where I am to fall back into just one of the popular girls. I can't be the cheerleader that's dated the nerd girl from the Glee Club. I would be shamed by everyone. I would be mocked for not knowing what you are. Everyone else would say they knew, they knew, but they were all as fooled as me. You passed yourself for a man well, Anne, but I know what you are now." I smirked as she still didn't know me. All she knew was what would affect her social standing, which was still all that mattered to her. She saw my face and said, "Don't smile at me. I will tell everyone if I have to. I won't tell them while Jack's not around, but if he ever comes back. I tell them all about you, Anne. They'll know what you are. All my friends will disavow ever hanging out with Jack the fag. That's your punishment, Anne. Jack can never come back to town." I stared at her blankly as she apparently assumed everyone would believe her despite her complete lack of any evidence connecting me and Jack. Everyone would think she'd lost her mind. She opened her bedroom door to show me out. She looked at me as we reached the front door and said, "I pity you, Anne. I'm moving on from high school after four years, you're sticking around for 2 extra years. You're supposed to move on, not try to capture what you weren't." I felt a bit down as I left Lisa's home. I went back to the Gardners' house and went directly to my room. I thought to myself about what Lisa had said to me, and I put my story down on this paper. It didn't bother me when she said it, but it is gnawing at me now. She said she knew what I was, but I spent so long not knowing it that I doubt she does. I think she was alluding to me being gay, but I'm straight as an arrow when it comes to my sexual orientation. I can understand where she's coming from though. I mean if I was observing someone who was acting the way I was, I'd think he was gay. I might be the gayest straight man on the planet, but I only desire women. I don't know what's going to happen, but I know I'm staying Anne. Jack's gone. There's really no choice. There's no debating it. I don't ever want to be a man again after what I've been through. It's just not me. I'm Anne. I've got to go now. It's Twilight New Moon night at Melanie's, and she'll kill me if I'm late.