Life With AlphaChapter 9 Beta Bayonetta
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Ms. Yates, Chapter One free porn video
One
"Mr. Yates?"
Chris jumped at the soft but commanding voice of Mrs. Garnett, one of the
secretaries in the school's main office. "Mr. Rodriguez wants to see
you."
In his entire freshman year of high school, he had never been summoned by
the assistant principal. Now, not yet a full month into his sophomore
year, despite the fact that he knew he had done nothing wrong, he felt
his stomach tighten as he followed Mrs. Garnett. When he saw Ken Carlisle
slumped down in a chair in the small waiting area, not even looking up,
his worst fears were confirmed.
"Thanks for coming," Mr. Rodriguez said. "I'm sure you know what this is
all about."
"Not really."
The assistant principal heaved a huge sigh. "You mean you don't know
about the fight in the cafeteria less than an hour ago, when your program
has you scheduled for lunch?"
"I wasn't in any fight, sir."
Mr. Rodriguez sat back. "I didn't say you were. I didn't ask if you were.
I only suggested that you knew it took place, that you know or are at
least acquainted with the combatants."
Chris stared at the floor.
"I am now convinced," he added, "that you know why it happened."
Chris shifted slightly in his seat and felt the reassuring caress of
nylon under his jeans. He said nothing.
"So, you and Ken, huh? Never woulda guessed."
"It's not like that!"
Rodriguez leaned forward and glared at him.
"Well, then, suppose you tell me what it is like! Suppose you give me
some piece of information that can help keep your pal from being
expelled, because that's just what two sets of parents are going to be
demanding."
Chris gave a humorless snort.
"Something funny, Mr. Yates?"
"You just don't want to lose the football team's best defensive player.
Just like..."
He stopped himself.
"Just like what, Mr. Yates?"
"Just like schools always do."
Rodriguez just glared and Chris felt himself wilting under it.
"Just like last year. Nobody cared about Ken's grades until third
trimester, when it looked like he'd have to miss spring practice because
of them. Then, all of a sudden, it was, 'oh, we have to do something,
Kong needs a tutor!'"
The assistant principal's eyes widened.
"That's right. They drafted you to be his tutor. Got him the test
answers, did you?"
"No!"
"No, no, of course not. You wouldn't do anything like that. Nothing to
sully the name of Oak Manor High School."
There were two sharp knocks on the door. It was opened before the
assistant principal had a chance to respond. Elaine Barnes, the school
principal, walked in with Ken right behind her.
"May I be so bold as to enquire what the hell is going on?"
Mr. Rodriguez told her of the fight and recapped what little he knew.
"When I questioned Mr. Carlisle, he was uncooperative," he said.
"Of course he was. Most people are when subjected to the third degree."
She turned to Ken. "Can you please tell us what happened?"
He had told Chris in the cafeteria that they needed to change their
scheduled session from late that afternoon to evening because the coach
was extending football practice. Pete Denning and Carl Martini, both of
whom had been cut from the football team before the season started, began
making loud comments.
"What comments?"
Ken clammed up. She turned to Chris.
"Don't, Chris," Ken said.
Chris shrugged and replied, "I've heard them all before." He turned to
the principal and said, "They asked if we were going steady or if it was
just sex."
"Those were their exact words?" she pressed. When he hesitated, she
chuckled and added, "I've heard them all, too, Chris."
"No, ma'am. Pete asked if we were going steady or did I just give Ken
blowjobs, and Cal said, no, he thought I'd prefer 'getting it up the
ass'."
Ken turned red. His hands gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles
white. Ms. Barnes turned to face him.
"Surely, you've heard this kind of thing before. I would think it common
in locker room banter. Why a fight? Why now? Why these boys in
particular?"
"Just got sick of it. It's wrong. Chris is the smartest kid in the
school, and a better teacher than most of the teachers. Goes over stuff
all day if need be, never looks down on anyone. He's the one told me to
go see Mrs. Delgado."
"The reading support teacher," she said, leaning back on Rodriguez' desk.
"You see her twice a week, as I recall."
"Chris also said I should tell her about how I have trouble adding
columns of numbers. So, I did, and it turns out I have a problem with
something called visual-motor tracking, has to do with how the eye
follows stuff on a line or in columns. It's why I always had so much
trouble adding - it wasn't that I couldn't add, it was that I couldn't
pick up what I was supposed to be adding. But I go to a doctor for it
now, and it's getting a lot better."
He only worked with Chris now on math. He still struggled because he'd
fallen so far behind over the years.
Mr. Rodriguez started to say something, but Ms. Barnes held up her hand
to stop him. She then told Ken that she understood what would have gotten
him so angry, but reminded him that the school had procedures for this
kind of harassment.
"With all respect, Ms. Barnes," he replied, "your procedures don't work.
If they'd said this sh--crap to me, alone, that would be one thing. But
they yelled it out in front of 300 kids, with Chris right there. No, I
like my way better. Not only will they keep their fat, stupid mouths
shut, everybody else will think twice before they say anything."
"On the other hand," Chris said, "if you suspend or expel Ken, the whole
school will blame me when we lose to Stevenson a week from Saturday."
Ms. Barnes smiled.
"Well, we wouldn't want the school to be mad at you. And we certainly
wouldn't want to lose to Stevenson."
"We can't just give him a free pass because he's a football star!"
Rodriguez snapped.
"Indeed, we can't. However, what my questioning unearthed that yours did
not was that Mr. Carlyle was provoked far beyond any reasonable level
and, moreover, acted in a way meant to protect a student we would all
agree was at risk. And should the other students' parents complain, I
would be more than happy to explain it to them exactly that way.
"Case dismissed, Mr. Rodriguez."
#
Marjorie Yates knew there was something wrong as soon as Chris came home
from school. He was quiet and went straight upstairs without even saying
hello. When her eighteen-year-old daughter, Barbara, arrived home a few
hours later, she mentioned it.
"I think this is becoming a lot more complicated than he - or she -
expected," Barbara quipped. Marjorie frowned and Barbara turned serious.
"Don't tell me you're having doubts."
"I always have doubts. Ever since your father died, I've never felt
completely comfortable in any decision I've made, especially one that I
know he would have opposed."
"Well, he would have been sorry in this case and Tina would have been
miserable."
"Tina wouldn't have existed! She'd have remained a figment of Chris'
imagination."
Barbara smiled, and Marjorie admitted to herself that wasn't true. Chris
would have continued wearing Barbara's clothes on the sneak and feeling
horrible about himself. At least now, as Tina, she had her own dresses,
skirts and tops, her own lingerie, her own stockings and heels.
"She's happy," Barbara said. Marjorie frowned.
"Not today. I'm beginning to think that, whatever else might have been a
good idea, starting the hormones was a mistake. Even Dr. Fleming had
misgivings about starting them this young."
"But she wanted to feel like a real girl. The hormones help her do that.
I mean, it's not as if she's..."
She stopped, seeing the expression on her mother's face.
"You don't mean...but that wasn't supposed to happen for a long time, yet.
Are you sure?"
"I think so. You'll see."
Marjorie returned to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner
while Barbara set the table. She called out, "Dinner!" avoiding direct
address until she saw how her younger child came to the table. The figure
entering the dining room a few moments later was militantly undecided,
wearing jeans and a soft cotton tee shirt and no shoes, revealing the
reinforced toe of the pantyhose worn under the jeans; the rubber band
that usually held the longish, still-androgynous reddish-brown hair back
in a tight ponytail for school was gone, and it was impossible to miss
the richness and fullness of the hair. The face was freshly scrubbed,
without a hint of cosmetics or feminine scent.
"What's the deal?" Barbara asked.
"Ken's coming over for a homework session after dinner, so Tina for now
and then back to Chris." The bitterness was impossible to miss. Marjorie
tried to change the subject.
"How was school?"
Tina put her fork down and looked as if she might burst into tears at any
moment.
"What is it, Sis?" Barbara asked. It was a term she usually used only
when it was just the two of them. Tina told them about the fight.
"Does Ken know about Tina?" Marjorie asked.
"No."
By the time Ken arrived, the tight ponytail was back and sneakers covered
the telltale stockings. Marjorie had work of her own to do and some calls
to make, so she withdrew to her bedroom. Whenever she came down for
coffee refills or to get something, she noticed that Ken, more quiet than
usual, seemed unusually solicitous toward Chris.
#
"You okay?" Ken asked once Marjorie had gone back upstairs.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry about today."
Ken looked pained. "I owe you a lot. No way you should have to put up
with that shit."
He went back to the problem he was working on, but Chris could see he was
having trouble concentrating. He kept glancing up. But he asked no
questions, and he completed the problem.
"Okay," Chris said. "Instead of me checking it, explain it to me, like
you would explain it to the class."
He did. It was perfect.
"You think she'll call on me to explain it to the class?" he asked, his
voice suddenly thick with anxiety. Chris smiled.
"No, you're going to volunteer."
"You're fucked!" he snapped, then blanched. "Sorry."
Chris smiled as he pulled absently at his shirt. Sometimes, he thought,
you talk to me like I'm a girl.
He blushed, realizing he'd said it aloud.
Ken looked surprised at first.
"Well, sometimes you act kinda like a girl...sorry, that came out wrong,"
Ken stammered.
"No, it's okay. I've been told that before. It doesn't bother me." He
pulled at the shirt again.
"I don't know," Ken said. "Sometimes, you remind me of my sister, Debbie.
I don't mean anything bad. She's a really nice kid, too."
He paused.
"I guess it came out wrong, but I wanted you to know that the stuff that
seems to piss off other kids is okay with me. I mean, I don't understand
what their problem is. You showed me that I'm not stupid, I just had some
things that had to be resolved. It's like you believe in me."
Chris remembered their first session. Ken had come in convinced that
nothing would help him, and Chris had made him do the work. When Ken had
protested that he was too stupid to understand it, just another dumb
jock, Chris had threatened to quit.
When Mrs. Delgado had confirmed the visual problems that he had first
noticed, he felt vindicated. For Ken, it was as if he'd been liberated,
and heaven help anyone who tried to talk down to him from that moment on.
Maybe I should tell him, he thought now.
No, he'll freak out.
He felt his eyes welling up with tears.
"Oh, shit!" Ken gasped. "I'm sorry. Everything I say is so wrong..."
"No, Ken. It was exactly the right thing to say. No one else would
understand, but I do."
They both took a deep breath and relaxed. Ken had something else on his
mind.
"I have a favor to ask. If you don't want to, I understand. Would you
come to the Stevenson game?"
"Wouldn't miss it." He resisted pulling at the annoying tee shirt again.
Marjorie and Barbara both came downstairs as Ken was packing up to leave.
He thanked them all and left. Chris tugged again at the shirt as he
closed the door.
"I see what you mean," Barbara said to Marjorie, who only sighed.
"What?" Chris asked. He was already kicking off the sneakers and pulling
the rubber band away from the ponytail and shaking out the previously
constrained tresses.
"Sweetie," Marjorie said with a smile, "please come sit down. We need to
talk."
Plopping on the couch and sitting with crossed legs, as if the sight of
the stockinged toe was reassuring, made the transition from Chris to Tina
complete. She pulled at the tee yet again.
"I know," Barbara said with a giggle. "I hated that."
"Hated what?"
"How they itched when my boobs were first developing. It's 'cause the
nipples are all puffy and sensitive. You'll feel better when you've got a
training bra."
"But Dr. Fleming said..."
"She said," Marjorie replied, "that it might be some time. But she also
said we couldn't know for sure, and that we should contact her
immediately if you started to develop. When did it start?"
"Just today."
Barbara guffawed. "No way, Sis. I can see those cute little boobies from
here." Tina looked horrified. "Oh, it's only 'cause I know what to look
for. But it'll have been weeks since they first started."
"That would be my guess," Marjorie said. "But you didn't tell us. Because
you liked how the hormones made you feel? Or because you figured you'd
wait until it was too late?"
Tina looked up.
"Too late?"
Marjorie explained that the effects of the hormones at this point
couldn't be reversed but the process could be halted. The extra breast
tissue would remain but would grow less sensitive over time. She
suggested, gently, that perhaps Tina had realized it and had said nothing
so that they would have no choice but to continue the process.
"I didn't think about it," Tina said. "Honest."
Marjorie hesitated before going on.
"Then, can you tell me what you were thinking when you called Dr. Fleming
and told her you'd lost the prescription and could she please give you a
replacement? And please don't tell me that you really did lose it because
I already checked with the pharmacy and they filled both."
Tina couldn't make her mind work.
"By increasing the dosage," Marjorie continued, "you've accelerated the
process. Dr. Fleming is very upset, not just because this throws the
whole timetable off, but because you were deceitful with her. In fact,
before we continue this conversation, I want you to go call her right now
to make sure we don't have to find a new endocrinologist."
She trudged up the stairs and used the phone in her mother's bedroom. She
felt as if she hardly had the strength to press the buttons. Dr. Dolores
Fleming answered on the second ring.
"Good evening, Tina."
"I'm sorry," she blurted. "Really."
There was a long pause.
"I'm sure you are. It's never pleasant to be caught."
Tina started to cry.
"I didn't mean because of that. Mom said we might have to find a new
doctor. I couldn't do that, now. I trust you. I need you."
"Then I need to be able to trust you, Tina. If you were getting impatient
with the therapy, why didn't you tell me?"
"We'd all agreed - low level hormones until the first sign of secondary
sex characteristics, then a decision. I felt trapped."
Dr. Fleming reminded her of the other things they'd discussed as well -
that it was a process that might not adhere to a timetable and that they
might need to make some serious decisions to change things.
"I know. But Mom seemed so scared, and I felt I had to lean a little on
her side. I figured that if I developed early, well, it would just be one
of those things and I wouldn't be taking anything back."
She knew what was coming, and she was right. Dr. Fleming outlined all the
harm that could come from exceeding the prescribed level of hormones.
"I want to see you tomorrow afternoon," she concluded. "I'll take some
blood and check some levels. We'll talk more then."
Once back downstairs, she recounted the conversation.
"She wants to see me tomorrow and do some tests, but the thing is, I
don't want to stop," Tina said.
"I understand," Barbara said, "but it isn't about just you anymore. Let
me ask you something, sister to sister. If you were a genetic girl, would
you want Ken as your boyfriend?"
"I don't like boys! You know I don't!"
"I know," Marjorie said, softly. "Neither does Ken. But he likes you."
"No way!"
"Way," Barbara said. "He treats you like a princess, and he the
chivalrous knight. If you were a genetic girl, he'd have already asked
you out, toe in the sand, stammering and stuttering. And, unlike most
jocks, he wouldn't be trying to get you into bed. You'd have to make the
first move."
Marjorie explained that Ken probably didn't understand any of it because
he didn't realize that inside Chris was really Tina. He saw a boy, but
was receiving signals that shouted, "girl!"
"What signals?"
"The ones you send out all the time. The way you walk, the way you
stand..."
"Even the way you turn your head," Barbara added, "snapping that ponytail
around like a cheerleader. And especially the way you pull at your shirt
like a blossoming eleven-year-old. In fact everything you think you're
doing so that people won't notice your increasingly girlish features only
calls greater attention to them.
"The plucking at the shirt screams to the world, 'Look at my titties!
Look at my titties!'"
"Hey!" Tina yelled. But her mother and sister were both giggling, and
soon she was, too. Marjorie noted that her hips were becoming more full,
too.
"Yeah," Barbara said, "and that little walk has become so innocent-sexy."
Tina frowned.
"Yeah, Meredith mentioned that the other day."
Meredith Bennett, the girl next door, had been a friend since early
childhood. Always a tomboy, she had dominated all the neighborhood boys
in sports and had taught Chris whatever sports skills he'd developed.
They'd been inseparable for years, and Marjorie suspected that it had
been Meredith who first started Chris wearing girl clothes.
"With this latest development," Marjorie began, but had to stop when
Barbara burst out laughing. "Well, I guess that's really what it is," she
continued. "You have to start wearing a training bra, and that is going
to be very difficult to hide because not only are the outlines of the bra
usually visible, but the padding of the cups will add to your shape."
"Heavy sweatshirts will hide it for a little longer, but by spring,
between the fact that it will be way too hot for sweatshirts and the six
more months of growth, you won't be able to pass as Chris at all,"
Barbara said.
"Unless we stop everything right now," Marjorie said.
"Stop?" Tears began to well up.
"It's an option, honey," Marjorie said. "You could still dress as Tina
whenever you pleased, and we'd respect that just as we do now. It just
means that the development of your breasts would stop and your hormone
levels would return to what they'd been."
#
Dr. Fleming tried not to smile when her patient walked into her
consultation office. Chris was rapidly becoming a thin fa?ade. All one
saw was Tina.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"Let me explain something, Tina. No one likes having their hands forced,
especially when it's done by someone who doesn't fully understand the
risks. I am not angry with you, but you must understand why I was so
upset."
"I know. I'm really sorry. Please don't drop me as a patient. Everything
according to what we discuss, no stunts, I promise."
Dr. Fleming reached across the desk and took Tina's hands in hers.
"That's a deal, sweetie. So, come on inside, let's take a look at you."
Once inside the examining room, Tina pulled off the knit shirt and tee
shirt in one swift motion. Dr. Fleming grinned.
"Bet that's a relief," she said. Tina nodded.
"Well, you certainly are blossoming."
"Mom says I'm going to have to start wearing a training bra."
"Should have already started, really. Let's get a look at the rest of
you."
The jeans were discarded, revealing panties and pantyhose underneath.
"You underdress every day for school?"
"All except Tuesdays, when we have gym."
"Your hips are rounding out as well. Pretty soon, your waist will become
more pronounced, which will make it easier to wear skirts."
She did a physical examination and took blood. Then she told Tina to get
dressed and meet her back in the office.
"I won't get the blood work back for a couple of days, but based on what
I see right now, I don't expect any problems. You were doubling the
dosage?"
Tina nodded.
"Well, that's not a dangerously high level. Stay with it for now, and if
I see anything alarming in the blood numbers, I'll let you know. Check in
with me the day after tomorrow."
"Okay."
"In the meantime, you have some careful thinking to do."
"I'd like to keep going."
Dr. Fleming sat back and regarded her carefully.
"Yes, I can see that. I'd like you to talk this over with your mother
first, and then if you two need to consult with me, we can easily do
that. She's enormously supportive of you, and you two seem to have a very
good level of communication.
"I'd like you to keep a few things in mind. If you keep on this path, you
will not be able to hide your changes much longer. Based on what I see
today, I'd guess that your breasts will be fairly pronounced by spring,
and by that I mean an A-cup, not a training bra."
She waited.
"I'd have to come out."
"Yes. And that is not a decision to be taken lightly."
"What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should go home and talk to your mom."
Barbara and Marjorie were both waiting for her when she walked in the
house. She waved to them and rushed upstairs. Only when she had shed her
clothes, donned the training bra that Barbara had given her the night
before, put on a skirt and top and ballet flats, brushed out her hair and
put on a little makeup did she come back down. She smoothed her skirt,
sat on the couch and crossed her legs at the ankles.
"All that just for us?" Marjorie asked. "I'm flattered."
"No, Mom. It's for me. This is me."
"I know that, sweetheart."
Tina recounted her discussion with Dr. Fleming.
"Do you really think you're ready to come out, honey? I mean, think about
school."
"I knew you'd want me to wait."
Marjorie moved to the couch and put her arm around Tina's shoulder.
"I'm going to tell you the absolute truth, like we all promised each
other we'd always do after Daddy died. Before we sat down to talk, here,
that is what I wanted. But more than anything else, sweetheart, I want
you to be happy.
"I just want you to understand that this is a life-changing decision. You
have to think through how it will all work out. Doing this in the middle
of the school year is going to be excruciating for you - how will your
friends react? How will the kids in school react?"
"I don't care."
Marjorie touched her cheek and turned her face so they were looking into
each other's eyes.
"Of course you care. You care about Ken, and about Meredith and about
Jeff. I'm not saying to make your decision based on what others will
think, I'm just saying to think about what it will all mean. You could
stop for now and then move forward next summer, and we could find another
school for you to..."
"I don't want to leave school! All my friends are there!"
"If they stay your friends," Barbara said. "Mom's right, Sis. At least
talk to your close friends about it."
"You're on Mom's side?"
"I'm on your side. I love you no matter what you decide. Same with Mom."
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