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I first met Lu at University. He was hunched over a book in the lunchroom, sitting alone at one of the long wooden tables we used in Dennison Hall, adrift in the noisy, boisterous world around him. I saw him more and more over the first few weeks, usually as he inched around between lectures, a book under his arm and a look of worry on his face. He was tiny, certainly not even five-feet tall and perhaps a few inches less, and his small stature was accentuated by the meatheads on our rugby and rowing teams, who left him looking like a Lilliputian emigre. I didn't know why, but he fascinated me immediately. We first spoke just before Christmas, at a social even held in the student union. Lu hadn't appeared at any of the social nights before then - and there were a LOT in those first few months - so I was surprised to see him the corner of the room, clutching a coke and wearing a slightly oversized check shirt. After a few drinks I couldn't help but talk to him, something that quite clearly terrified and shocked him in equal measure. I've always been a tall girl, I towered over most of the boys in primary school and just about all of the girls, but I'd never felt taller than I did standing next to Lu, his foppish mop of black hair about level with the neckline of my dress, not helped by the three inch heels I was wearing. It wasn't just his height though, he had almost a pixie-like face with very round, chestnut colour eyes and ears that poked out from under that black messy black hair. In a small, scared voice, he told me that his family was Taiwanese, but that he'd been born in the UK, and that he was studying engineering at his Father's insistence, but that he didn't enjoy it. When I asked if he wanted a beer or a shot he shook his head, saying that drink didn't much agree with him, hence the coke. It's hard to explain why he interested me so much. It wasn't as though I was struggling to find boys to spend the night with - the term had already been full of drunken nights with inexperienced boys who finished before I'd even known they were starting - but they didn't give me the same buzz in the stomach that Lu did. When I told my friend Amy that we were going to the cinema, she almost snorted her wine out of her nose. 'The little Asian guy?' She asked, bewildered. Amy's preference was members of the Rugby team, preferably a forward rather than a back, 'people will think he's your little brother or something. Well, they would if he wasn't Chinese.' 'Taiwanese,' I corrected her, the distinction not important to Amy, who thought Africa was a country and that the Falklands were near Scotland. Being a frugal student, it did cross my mind to see if they'd let me buy Lu a child's ticket at the cinema - only ?1 for kids on a Tuesday - but I decided that he wouldn't appreciate that much, even though the thought gave me a strange thrill. He didn't try to put his arm around my shoulder during the film, but he did sheepishly ask if I wanted anything from the refreshments counter, still looking a little bewildered that a good- looking girl like me (not to be conceited, of course) was interested in him. That was how our friendship started, with Tuesday afternoon trips to the cinema and a trip to some dive of a restaurant afterwards. Quickly I learned that he seemed happier if I made the decisions about what films to see and where to eat, and even to let me buy the snacks. We shared a large tub of popcorn, and I'd get him a small coke, the large cokes being too much for him. Week by week he revealed himself more and more - he was an only child, his parents had moved back to Taiwan, he missed his Mother, who he described as a pocket rocket, and who he accidently revealed that he still called Mama. Eventually I asked if he'd even been with a girl, and his blushing gave me the answer. We slept together for the first time a few weeks later, but it was nothing like I'd experienced before. I had to take the lead from the outset, telling him what to do and where to put his hands. He was incredibly nervous about taking his clothes off, and it wasn't hard to see why when his tiny frame was revealed. It came as no surprise that his penis was so small, almost thimble like in a flaccid state and no bigger than my little finger when erect, to the extent that I could really feel much when he did finally put it in me. Still, I found it more exciting than any of the rough and ready fumbles I had with other boys, and I couldn't wait to do it again. But then, disaster struck. Lu, hating his course and missing his parents, took the decision to drop out and move to Taiwan. I was more heartbroken than I could believe, and none of my friends could understand why. Amy tried setting me up with friends of her boyfriends, but they just didn't interest me in the same way. When we went to the cinema, they wanted to choose the films. When we went back to their room, they wanted to be in control. It was boring, and eventually I stopped trying, Amy christening me an Old Maid, and telling me to get over it. Still, years pass and memories fade, and after University I threw myself in to work, at a stockbrokers in Canary Wharf. The atmosphere was boisterous and competitive, and I thrived in it, loving the bawdy conversations and the winner takes all attitude. That I was one of the few females on the floor only made me love it more, and there was no sweeter feeling than outperforming some cocky young guy who couldn't believe he was being beaten by a 'little girl' like me. Eventually I started sharing a flat with a couple of the secretaries, a posh, dark haired girl called Phillipa and a pretty little blonde thing called Heather, who the boys at the firm all wanted a crack at, but who always rebuffed their advances. This interested me, especially when I asked her why and she'd shrugged, 'because they're boring.' I felt the same way. It was after a drunken works party that Heather and I shared a bed for the first time. Neither of us could really understand how it had happened, other than it had felt like a fun idea and that drink had nulled whatever inhibitions we still had. We were both dressed fancily, her in a short black cocktail dress and me in a floor length Versace gown (work was good), and just like with Lu, she seemed happy to let me take control, not that I really knew what to do with that control. Still, it was exciting to lift that dress over her head, and although I'd seen her in her underwear a few times, it felt different on this occasion, almost too illicit for words. We gave each other oral, and I orgasmed three times. Afterwards she felt asleep with her head on my shoulder, and for the first time since Lu had left, I felt really happy. Of course, we quickly became the talk of the firm. I was already seen as a bit of an oddity, the pretty young girl who went toe to toe with gnarled old stockbrokers and preppy macho guys, but when they found out (through Phillipa, who clearly didn't approve) that I was sleeping with Heather, their heads nearly exploded. Still, I was helping massively with their minorities quota, female AND a lesbian, and I thoroughly enjoyed the look of amazement on their faces when they realised that the scrumptious little blonde secretary was sleeping with ME. Phillipa moved out soon afterwards - no loss - and Heather and I fell into a relationship approaching something like girlfriends. We went to the cinema together just like Lu and I had done, and I loved the way she hung from my arm, leaving me feeling like a protector. When she had a bad day at work, I'd let her lay with her head in my lap and play with her hair in the way that she liked. When I had a bad day at work, she'd cook me a nice dinner. Heather's parents didn't much approve. Her Father, a chemicals salesman with a chip on both shoulders, simply didn't understand why his beautiful young daughter would want to be with another woman, and her Mother winced whenever Heather spoke of me as her 'girlfriend'. Tracy, Heather's sister, was more understanding, and we often went on double dates, Tracy's boyfriend definitely not minding when Heather and I kissed, judging by his gawping. My parents? Well, I hadn't bothered to tell them. For our first anniversary I took Heather to Paris and bought her a much too expensive diamond necklace, which I slipped onto her neck in front of the Eiffel Tower on a perfect spring evening. It would have been the ideal time to ask her to marry me I suppose, but in truth the idea hadn't really entered my head, as though marriage was still something for men and women, and not for us. That started to change as we fell in with the 'lesbian' crowd that frequented the bars around our North London flat, who kept telling us that we should get engaged. This was an exciting new world for both of us, and I revelled in the characters we started to spend time with. Some of the couples were classic butch and femme, the 'boys' with short aggressive haircuts and the girls giggly and submissive, most were more like Heather and I, in as much as one was probably dominant, but both were fairly femme. Like Charlie and Georgie, who we started to hang around with more and more. Charlie, an engineer on the Underground, was tall and almost handsome, with sharp cheekbones that brought to mind a hunky film star, an odd mixture of femininity and masculinity, while Georgie was a hairdresser, and a pretty typical girlie girl who Charlie informed us spent way too long getting ready and doing her hair. When we went out, there was little doubting that Charlie and I were the 'boys' and Georgie and Heather the 'girls', even on the nights when we all wore dresses, like when we went to the Proms in the Park, or to Swan Lake. Charlie and I even started to drink beer, and share our favourite craft ales that we'd found, while Georgie and Heather stuck exclusively to sweet wines and cocktails, naturally. I was happier and more contented than I'd ever been before, a confident and increasingly wealthy young woman with the word at her feet, a beautiful girlfriend and even a gorgeous new three-bedroom house near Stanmore station, which Heather had decorated with great gusto and style. Loaded with advice from our new friends, we started to experiment more in the bedroom too, with an Ann Summer's bought dildo an interesting addition to the bedroom. It had been Heather's idea to have me wear it, and for her to give a 'blow-job', which brought about feelings and sensations completely unlike any before it. I almost collapsed from the ferocity of the orgasm, and even Heather was wetter than usual. After returning the favour by giving Heather oral, we fell asleep in each other's arms. Not long after I was given the 'Rising Star' award at work, which would be handed out at a swanky ceremony in Covent Garden. At first Heather and I excitedly shopped for fancy gowns to wear, until on one shopping trip I spotted a very smart women's suit, almost like a tuxedo, but with a female cut. As soon as I slipped it on I knew it was for me, and Heather was equally as effusive about how it looked. I was allowed two guests, so invited Charlie and Georgie, and with Charlie also in a trouser suit and the girls in floor length gowns, we almost looked like a pair of boyfriends and girlfriends, if you ignored the heels that adorned all our feet. The other brokers with their plastic girlfriends didn't know quite what to make of us, but we shrugged off their smirks, which were especially bad from the women, with a laugh and another beer. Ever more drunk, I told Heather just how much I loved her, and then in a fashion in way that'll never be copied in a romantic novel, I asked her to marry me, just after we'd all had a Tequila slammer. Giddily and with a squeal of delight she accepted, and then we got REALLY drunk, the night dissolving into a fog of cocktails and ill-advised shots of colourful spirits. *** We didn't make a big fuss of the wedding, inviting only Tracy and her now husband Christopher, and Charlie and Georgie, with the six of us going out for a meal afterwards. Tracy was pregnant so couldn't drink, but Charlie, Christopher and I made up for that. Heather looked stunning in her floor length white dress, and I was told I looked 'handsome' in my tuxedo, which had a far more manly cut that the suit I'd worn to the awards ceremony. I didn't know how to take such a compliment or whether I really liked it - I was still a girl after all - but then no-one had forced me to wear a suit, and for an early part of the planning we had mused on the idea of us both wearing a dress, but somehow it hadn't felt right. Heather did the girl part for both of us anyway, with Tracy and Georgie helping her get ready while Charlie and I went to the pub. I knew she'd bought some pretty special underwear, garters, suspenders, the whole works, and so I was greatly looking forward to getting her home. I'd assumed we'd use the dildo and give each other oral, but she clasped onto my arm during the taxi ride home and said, 'I'd like to be your real woman tonight.' It took me a moment to realise just what she meant, and then liked the idea greatly as I did realise. She surprised me with a new strap on, which she'd hidden under the bed ready for our first night as a married couple, and which I strapped on excitedly after slowly and carefully removing each item of her silky, feminine underwear, until only her rounded, completely naked female form lay on the bed in front of me, her large breasts just waiting to be fondled and her eyes closed, waiting for me to lower myself on top of her. It felt strange, to be honest, and it wasn't easy to fathom why entering her like a man was so exciting for both of us, other than it was deliciously subversive in a way that appealed to both of our natures. She wanted me to tell her that she was my girl, which I was happy to do, and that moment my strap on first pressed through and into her changed our relationship. She really was my girl now, and I was her boy, well, her girl-boy, as evidenced by our breasts pressing together, and our smooth, hairless legs entwining as I pressed myself further inside her, until we both climaxed together, loudly and violently. It was my idea for her to give up work, but it was idea she accepted very happily. She'd never really liked being a secretary, or the cut-throat atmosphere of the brokerage, and she was much happier being at home, decorating one of the rooms or baking something in the kitchen. I liked her being at home too, of having a housewife who did my washing and cooked my dinner, just like the girlfriends and wives of the other brokers did. The changes I'd already seen in Heather started to speed up after that - the desire to be the girl of the relationship and for me to be her man, watching trashy celeb programs with Georgie, or getting dressed up when we'd go out for dinner to see a show. She even started calling me her 'fella', which still jarred in my ears a little. When Tracy's baby was born - a girl - she started to spend a lot of time with her sister too, and I could tell she was getting broody in way I'd never expected the slightly wild and unique girl I'd met to become. But when I brought up adoption she'd always bat the idea away, which started to infuriate me. If she wanted a kid, I'd tell her, it was the only way, her biology lessons should have told her as much. Charlie and Georgie, neighbours now since they'd bought the house next to ours, had already started down the road so we knew how long it might take. Eventually, in a night of tears and angry sex, she told me why. Three years before she'd met me, she'd gotten into a fight with a girl in a nightclub and ever the scrapper, she'd laid the girl out cold on the bathroom floor. A fair fight, Heather had fought, not realising that the girl's Father was a policeman. Heather had been charged with GBH, and spent three months in a woman's prison. 'There's no chance they'll let me adopt with a criminal record,' she sobbed, and I could only console her so much, when I knew she was right. I didn't really know what to think about it. On one hand I was angry that she hadn't told me earlier, but why should she? I don't think either of us thought we'd end up as a married couple, it had happened fast, like a tsunami washing over a beach, and now we were left with the aftermath. Soon my feelings turned to worry - she wanted a kid, and I could never give her one. How long before she found someone who could? Someone who didn't need a strap on? We existed in this half-fog for a couple of years, watching Tracy's little girl get older and then seeing Charlie and Georgie's adoption finalise, as they adopted a cheeky little 4 year old Vietnamese boy. Heather was both of their go-to baby sitter, so it was normal to come home from work to find either Sophia or Quyen in the living room, the first revealing sign being the flood of dolls or toy trains in the hallway. It was strange how conventional our unconventional life had become, as the years continued to roll past, how much more that became true. We became Aunties and Godmothers, very grown up titles that felt slightly silly, but I knew that none of that sated the longing in Heather's eyes. Being an Auntie or a Godmother was great, but she wanted to be a Mummy. In truth, by the time Lu got in contact with me via Facebook, I'd almost forgotten he'd existed. It was the day after Heather and I had celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary and I had an ale-induced headache that I could have sold to science. We'd gone to the little Italian on the high street, the same six that had stood outside the registry office all those years before, all looking a little older and greyer now but still young and still prepared to get stupidly drunk, apart from the women, who were more interested in looking after the kids. Sophia was nearly ten now, and quite the little girl, bright and funny, with the same wrinkle in her nose and deep laugh as Heather, one that lit up any room. She'd grown especially close to Quyen, and mothered him in that way little girls do with silly, messy boys. Quyen was nearly nine himself now, but already towered over Sophia and wasn't a million miles away from Georgie or Heather. He was rough and ready, traits picked up from Charlie, who revelled in her manly son, taking him to monster truck shows and wrestling shows at the local sports hall. I'd often go too, and sometimes Christopher would bring Sophia, but while the girl obviously liked spending time with Quyen and the 'boys' it was clear she thought it all a bit stupid, and got far more excited at the prospect of going clothes shopping with Tracy, Georgie and Heather. Neither child seem to care much about their odd dynamic in their family lives, it was the norm to them to have two Aunties or for Quyen, two Mummies, but I wondered if that would change as they got older, and other kids started to comment on it. It was such things that I was musing when my phone buzzed with a ghost from the past. I didn't have Lu as a friend on Facebook - he'd never appeared in any of my recommended friend lists and I'd have guessed he wasn't on there anyway - so it was something of a shock to see his name appear, accompanied by a picture of him standing in front of a temple of some kind. The picture showed him from a distance, but it was close enough to show that he was still small, and far enough away from him face to show his was still shy. 'Long time,' the message said, 'I'm back in the UK now, want to meet for a drink. Or would that be weird?' I didn't immediately know how to respond, but Heather told me I should meet up with him, 'it'll be nice for you,' she said, clearly completely unthreatened, 'you can talk about your old University days.' It turned out he was in North London too, so we agreed to meet in a pub near the Kilburn High Street, and I felt oddly nervous as I sat nursing a craft beer, waiting to see him again after all these years. Was he married? Did he have kids? What did he do for a living? I couldn't help but hum Disco 2000 as the questions raced around my mind, waiting to see my little Lu again, looking up each time the pub door opened, and then back down again with a mixture of relief and disappointment when it turned out not to be him. But eventually it was him, and my first impression was of how little had had changed. There'd been no late growth spurt, or even any bulking out of his tiny frame, and even his face didn't show any of the blemishes of time that I could see creeping in to my reflection, lines under the eyes or strands of grey in my black hair. It was as though time had frozen Lu between the day he'd left for Taiwan all those years ago and the day he walked back into my life, like finding an old photograph and it morphing into a film. We talked for a couple of hours. He'd moved back to the UK a few months before after his Mother had died, and was renting a bedsit in Dollis Hill while he looked for a job. He looked sad when he told me how his Mother had been cut down by cancer, dying only a few months after the initial diagnosis, and only two years after his Father had died of a heart attack. The love he had for his parents made me feel bad for not bothering to contact mine for so many years, until I remember what a couple of tossers they were. He wasn't married and didn't have kids, and in fact I quickly suspected there hadn't been anyone since me, judging by his blushing when I asked about girlfriends. We didn't talk about me being a lesbian, but I knew he was aware from looking at my Facebook, and wondered what he made of it. He still didn't drink though, so alcohol wasn't going to loosen his tongue and his shyness and politeness stopped him from mentioning it. We did discuss old times at University, and he even laughed when a young waitress came over and told us that we'd have to move to the 'family area' of the pub at 7pm, clearly thinking that Lu was a young boy, and perhaps that I was his Mother! Those old feelings came back again when that happened, the same kind I used to get when picking the film we were going to see, or telling him how to pleasure me. Still, by the end of the evening the conversation had run dry, and it was clear to both of us that one night of reminiscing would be enough. I had a completely different life now, one consumed by work and a social life that Lu could never be part of, and when we parted into the cold London night I was sure it was the last I'd ever see of him. I found myself watching with something approaching maternal, or perhaps paternal, concern to make sure he got on his bus safely, and then felt a little sad as he gave me a small wave as it pulled away, looking more childish than ever amongst the throng of hard looking late-night travellers. Another two years passed in the blink of an eye, all of us racing headfirst into a comfortable middle age, one filled with dinner parties rather than nightclubs, and foreign films with boring plots rather than Bruce Willis killing people in tunnels. Heather had even started to put on a little weight, which she was very self-conscious about but which I quite liked - it made her look even more womanly, and gave me more to play with in bed. For her 35th birthday I took her back to Paris, where I slipped a new diamond necklace around her neck in front of the Eiffel Tower once more, and told her how happy I was that she'd stuck with an odd lesbian like me, making her cry. I'd made her my woman again that night, but this time it was in a lavish central Paris hotel room, and we were both much surer of our roles. I'd moved to a new firm as head of investment, a job that brought a new car every year and bonuses that would make you sick, which we spent on lavish holidays and furniture from ridiculously pretentious little shops in Shoreditch, the kind where you worry they might call pest control as you walk in. Distractions perhaps, from the growing emptiness in our lives that perhaps only a child could have filled, which Heather was reminded of every time Sophia or Quyen visited. Nearly a teenager now, Sophia was no longer the little girl she had been, but rather stuck in that awkward stage between childhood and adulthood. The dolls were firmly at the back of the cupboard, save for the few she kept above her bed, and instead she talked endlessly about Justin Bieber or a bunch of Youtubers whose names I'd never heard of, whose fashion and make-up videos she watched endlessly. Such talk left Quyen screwing up his face, being the football and war loving ten year old boy he'd become, already taller than Georgie and wider too. The previous summer I'd treated all eight of us to a Florida holiday, and Auntie Heather had been in her element with the kids, especially Sophia, who she'd let borrow her nail polish or lipgloss, so long as she didn't tell Tracy. *** It was a summer afternoon when I'd taken the call from Heather, who sounded both panicked and confused, 'you'll never guess who's showed up,' she whispered, 'it's not good.' It turned out that Lu had been living on the streets for the last few months, and a gauntness had flooded his youthful looks. He was wearing the same jeans and shirt that he'd been wearing at our pub meeting up two years before, but they were scabby and hole ridden now, while his always messy and foppish hair was now falling down to his shoulders and deeply matted. 'What the hell Lu!' I said, both angry and shocked at the same time. Why hadn't you asked for help, I yelled, at which point he started to cry, which in turn made Heather cry, and in turn left me feeling oddly angrier still. He looked so pathetic sitting on the couch, wrapped in one of our bath towels, and I had to fight the urge to shake him and tell him to grow up. I didn't know why I felt like that. Perhaps I loved him too much. Heather, ever the Mother, was the one who took control of the situation. Telling him not be silly every time he apologised for the trouble he'd caused, she ran him a bath and threw out his filthy clothes while he soaked in the water. She even washed out his hair herself, when it became obvious that Lu was in no state to do it himself, and my previous feelings of anger subsided when I walked into our bedroom to see her brushing his hair out gently while he sat at her vanity table, drowning in one of my grey bath robes. 'What are we going to do?' I asked her, after he'd gone to bed in one of the spare rooms. 'Don't know,' she replied, resting her head on my lap, tired from her busy afternoon of looking after my old University boyfriend, 'what do you want to do?' I wanted to take her up to the bedroom and use the strap-on, such were the confusing feelings of arousal racing through me. Seeing her mothering Lu had somehow seemed so right and so wrong at the same time - he, a 36 year old man, but as helpless as a child, having his hair brushed out gently by the woman I loved. The subversive in me was being resurrected, assuming it had ever died, and I wondered if it were in her as well. It's up to you, she told me, but it was clear that she wanted him to stay, and I realised that I did too. So I left them the next morning to go to work, with Lu still asleep in the spare room and Heather fretting over what he'd need when he woke up. Without time to buy any new clothes for him, she'd dug out an old pair of jeans and t-shirt she'd kept for Quyen when he was younger, 'will that be OK,' she asked me, 'I mean, I don't want to embarrass him.' 'Well he doesn't need to know they're Quyen's clothes,' I replied, 'besides, he must be used to having to wear children's clothes anyway.' In truth, I wasn't 100% sure I should have been leaving Heather alone with him, given that I didn't really know what type of person he was anymore. In fact, I'd never really known him that well. What if he was a rapist, or a fraudster, or a murderer even? I quickly put those ridiculous thoughts out of my head, consoling myself with the thought that he was unlikely to be able to overpower Heather, who was much stronger than she looked and had half a foot advantage over him. It was beyond strange to come home from work that night and find Lu sitting on our settee, clad in blue jeans and a boyish t-shirt that I remember Quyen wearing a few years before, finishing off a bowl of cornflakes. He immediately looked better than he had done only 24 hours previously, although he really did need a haircut and his teeth had taken a battering from his time on the streets, the two or three missing producing a gappy smile that somehow seemed in keeping with the scene. Clad as he was in the clothes of an 8 or 9 year old boy (though Heather had thoughtfully cut off the size labels so he didn't know), he looked weaker and tinier than I had ever seen him look. It was hard to not think back to those days at University, when we'd fumbled around in our bizarre relationship, but it felt like such a long time ago now, and I felt like a different person. In bed that night, Heather told me how Lu had been very quiet and respectful all day, and how she kept forgetting that she was dealing with an adult, and how she had to remind herself not to talk to him like a child. For the first time in a couple of months I used the strap on, and Heather groaned like she had done the first time when I entered her, her body riving orgasmically, girlishly. And all this while Lu slept soundly in the room down the hall, perhaps able to hear if the wind was blowing the right way. It was interesting to watch the relationship develop between Heather and Lu over the next few weeks, and I did so with rapt attention. There was nothing dramatic, nothing seismic, that happened, only falling into roles that somehow seemed very natural, with Heather's maternal instincts overpowering any oddities in the situation. She started to wash Lu's hair each morning, and to lay out his clothes, and make his dinner, and even make sure he was brushing his teeth before bed. It was just like she'd been when Sophie or Quyen stayed, and Lu was just as quick to follow her commands as they had ever been. Lu and I talked about the old days a few times, but Heather always left the room when we did, which I suppose we understandable. Who wants to hear about their partner's old boyfriends, after all? Soon though, just like they had during that meet at the pub, the stories ran out, and it seemed to become inconsequential that I'd known Lu all those years ago. Heather couldn't believe how meek and shy Lu was, and it was true that he seemed even more so than he had done when we were young, 'he's scared of his own shadow,' she confided in bed one night, 'I even had to borrow one of Sophie's old nightlights from Tracy. God knows how he survived on the streets for so long.' He met the rest of the gang a couple of weeks later, at one of our regular Sunday pub lunches. I wasn't sure why we'd kept him hidden to that point, telling the others that I was sick or that we had other plans, or why we felt so nervous about bring him, but I could sense that Heather felt the same, judging by the way she kept glancing at him as he sat in the back seat of the car, dressed neatly in a checked shirt and dark jeans, looking every inch a child. There was no doubt about it, if the police had pulled us over, they'd have thought Lu a young boy, and one who probably hadn't yet seen his tenth birthday. Such thoughts brought about a powerful stirring throughout me, one that made me tremble slightly as we sat at the lights. When I glanced over at Heather, she looked just as bewildered and nervous. 'Wait,' she said, grabbing my arm after we'd pulled into the car park, 'there's something you don't know.' She garbled her confession in a girlish squeak, the same kind she'd used all those years ago when she'd told me about her time in prison. It turned out that she'd been lying to Tracy and Georgie, telling them that Lu was 9 years old, and how we'd somehow been able to foster a young boy. I couldn't believe it, and nor could Lu. But then I started to wonder why I hadn't told the truth about Lu either, or talked about it to anyone at all in fact. I hadn't seen any of the gang since he'd arrived, but it wouldn't have been hard to message one of them about all the strange things that had been happening. 'So none of them know who Lu really is?' I whispered, 'but didn't I tell them about the boy at university?' 'I don't think so,' Heather replied, 'well, I don't remember you telling them anyway. You didn't tell me for quite a while, did you?' If I was stunned, it was nothing compared to poor old Lu in the back, who'd just been regressed from adult to a very young boy, but with little he could do about it. In fact, there was very little any of us could do about it, trapped as we were in Heather's web of lies. 'They're going to know he's not 9 years old,' I said, watching Lu's eyes widened every time his new 'age' was mentioned. 'Why?' Heather replied, 'unless he says something, which I doubt very much. People don't suspect the fantastic unless they have a reason to, and I as see it, it's far more plausible that we've managed to foster a nine year old boy than it is that we've taken a very small 36 year man into our house who acts, and looks, like a shy little boy.' Heather was right, unbelievably. Not only did the adults accept our story without question, that we'd received a call from the council out of blue, asking if we could foster a young homeless boy, the children did too, and I can't explain the feelings exploding within me when, at our second or third pub lunch, Heather finally persuaded Lu to head out to the playset with Sophia and Quyen. Sophia, ever the little mother, even took him by the hand, her large frame towering over him, and made sure he was OK while he was outside, just like she did with the very little boys and girls. For his part, Lu seemed to be totally in thrall to Heather, following her instructions like the 'good little boy' he was becoming, and looking lost when she wasn't around. I imagined he didn't much like being treated like a pre-pubescent boy, but it seemed like he didn't know how to say no. The summer holidays had just started, so he found himself dragged to more than a few afternoons at the cinema with Quyen, or shopping with Heather and the girls. Heather told me that he seemed more comfortable doing the latter, and how he clung to her more tightly when there were boys around, especially the rough and tumble boys that Quyen played with. She told me that when he was with Sophia he seemed to naturally take on the role of her little cousin, not fighting when she'd take him by the hand to cross a busy road, and sitting quietly while she showed him videos of her favourite youtubers. Such ideas excited me, but also made me worried. What would Christopher say if he found out that the little boy in his daughter's room was really a 36 year old man? It didn't bear thinking about. We had another holiday booked, Florida again, and I had to call the agent to increase the booking to 9. When she asked if we needed another room I told her no, and asked instead for a child's bed to be added to our room, before wondering why I'd done such a thing. It'd mean Heather and I couldn't have sex for one, and it wasn't as though the cost of the extra room was a problem. Still, it had felt like the right thing to do, somehow. If you were to ask me when Lu abandoned the last of his adulthood, I'd definitely point to that holiday. It was the first time he became that 9 year old boy 24 hours a day, and the reps at the holiday park certainly didn't think him otherwise, judging by the way they introduced him to the kids club, alongside Sophia and Quyen, as soon as we arrived. Even worse for him, and perhaps because he looked so small and bashful, the reps seemed to group him with the younger children, the 3 to 8 year olds, who stayed closer to the hotel and watched films and did face-painting, while Sophia and Quyen joined the older children in going biking and other outdoor activities. I watched sometimes as Lu took his awkward place in the group, and realised that Heather was right about him being more comfortable with the girls, and it wasn't a surprise to find him sitting next to the group of little girls in their sundresses, rather than with the loud and hard-playing boys. 'He sort of looks like a girl,' Heather remarked, 'I mean, the long hair and the way he shuffles about.' 'It's quite normal now,' Tracy replied, 'you're always reading about boys who should have been girls. Perhaps Lu is that way too. Sophia thinks so - she said that she pretty much thinks of him as a girl, rather than a boy.' The conversation left my head in a spin, the subversive in me brought to full attention, as it obviously was with Heather too. She got her chance on the penultimate night of the holiday when the children had a fancy dress party. Without consulting him first, she purchased a Snow White outfit from the hotel shop, and when he looked confused about it, she told him it was only for fun, and that everyone would think it hilarious. So I watched as she dressed my first boyfriend up in a girl's fancy dress outfit - blue and yellow dress with frothy netting underneath and a red bow perched delicately in his suitably black hair. There was no denying it when I saw the finished article - he looked like a little girl playing dress up, pure and simple. The girls loved it, including Sophia, who Lu clinged to throughout the night, almost hiding behind Sophia's Belle costume, lost in her skirts and looking like her shy little sister. The boys, already disinterested in him, paid him even less attention now, just another silly little girl who didn't want join in their rough games. Sophia, ever quick witted, started calling him Lucy, and soon all the girls were doing so. While all this was happening, Heather and I got tremendously drunk, always half watching Lu and amazed by what we were seeing. When he got tired toward the end of the night, one of the reps took him up to bed alongside a couple of the other girls, and dressed him in his pyjamas. By the time we got to bed, he was fast asleep, and he didn't stir while Heather gave me head, the pair of us stifling our violent orgasms. *** It's hard to really fathom the events of the next few weeks. I suppose the best way to explain is that Heather seemed to become possessed somehow, in a way I'd never seen before but sort of knew she was capable of. Such was her zeal to be a Mother, a desire that had been raging in her ever since Sophia was born, that Lu was caught up in it like a bystander on beach, watching the rising tides of the tsunami. Any doubt that remained about his position as her child was quickly washed away after that holiday as she strengthened her grapple hold on him. She had him called her Mummy now, which Lu, who seemed incapable of arguing with his new mother-figure, did without question. He sounded just like a child when he did it too, his voice had always been high pitched but seemed even more so when dressed like a child, an illusion perhaps, but a believable one. But most incredible was her pushing of him toward 'girl' activities. Until the holiday he'd been pretty much left to his own devices, which normally entailed watching old movies on the settee, or reading some Taiwenese book that Heather had ordered for him, but now she had him helping her with baking cupcakes, or folding the bedlinens. She took control of his watching and reading too, and replaced his old movies with Disney films (including Snow White, which Lu must have found very strange) and his books with the kind of pre-teen lit that Sophia used to read - stories about non-threatening vampires and sleepovers. I can't imagine Lu enjoyed any of it, but like I say, he didn't seem to know how to refuse. She had started to tie his hair into a ponytail too, held in place with simple, neutral coloured hairbands, and showed him how to tie it up himself, patiently instructing him in that motherly way she had until he could make a good job of it. Deciding that he needed to build up his confidence, she enrolled him in a local dance class, hypothesising that he'd be more comfortable there surrounded by little girls, rather than something more boisterous. Really though, I just think she wanted an excuse to turn him into Lucy again, which she did with gusto, dressing him in the black leggings and white t- shirt that served as the uniform for the class, his second time clad in girl's clothes. With his hair pulled up and his purple trainers in place, there was little to suggest he wouldn't fit in perfectly with the other girls in the class - the leggings further accentuated his twig-like legs, and the t-shirt hung liberally from his frame, despite being for ages 9 to 10. There were no unsightly bulges either, making me remember how small his penis had been. Quite how Lu felt as Heather led him out to the car is anyone's guess, but the look on his face was one of confusion and embarrassment, which must have been heightened when arrived at the class itself and found himself lost in the masses of 4 to 10 year old girls. Whether he enjoyed the experience or not mattered little, because Heather told him in no uncertain terms that he'd going every Tuesday evening, and that it was good for 'him'. Truth was, I loved it too. Just the sheer weirdness of my Lu, a 36 year old man, taking his place in a group of silly little girls as one of their number, wearing the same little leggings and t-shirt that they did, was something that appealed to me on level that I'd never experienced before. I got the same feeling watching him play with the girls on the playset after Sunday lunch, joining in their games of tag or going down the children's slides. It was a couple of Saturdays later that Lu's time as a boy (or a man, if you want to be entirely accurate) came to an end completely. He'd gone to the cinema with Sophia and Tracy to see some 'girl' movie, and so Heather and I took the opportunity to do the weekly shop at the nearby supermarket. Initially Heather had gone into the boy's clothing section to buy him a new pair of jeans, but something had kept her walking, straight out of the blue and into the pastel-heavy world of the girl's section. Neither of us said a word as she eschewed the idea of buying him blue jeans in favour of three pairs of polka dot leggings, one pair pink, one purple and one yellow. On a roll now, she also threw in a pack of t- shirts, similarly coloured and with girlie embroidery details on the chest, and a five pack of girl's socks. Then, as if hammering in the final nail in the coffin, she picked up a five pack of knickers, in a range of colours from white to pink. Until then he'd been wearing his boy's underpants even when dressed as Lucy, which I knew she found unsatisfactory. He wore his attire for the first time the next day, to Sunday lunch. Now, in his purple polka dot leggings and cute purple t-shirt with embroidery on the arms and neck, he looked completely at home with what were fast becoming his playmates and peers. He sat with Sophia during lunch and followed her outside wordlessly when time came to play, ever more her little girl cousin, and even fell asleep in the car on the way back, his chin resting against his top. He must have known the end had really come later that night, when his blue pyjamas were replaced by a gorgeous yellow nightie that Heather had bought from the boutique on the high street, complete with floppy bow on the back and a row of frills on the hem, and covering his feeble frame all the way down to his knees, where it encircled him completely, a girl in her nightgown. Heather was completely in her element now, and Lu found himself not just being her 9 year old daughter, but being her very feminine 9 year old daughter. My credit card took a hammering at that upscale boutique, and I found myself excited on the drive home each night to see what 'Lucy' was wearing. Sometimes it was a frilly skirt over colourful leggings, and sometimes it was a delightful little dress, the kind Sophia had always liked to wear. She must have shaved his legs too, because they were as smooth and girlish as you would expect them to be. His t-shirts were always some pastel shade, and normally embellished with rabbits or horses or something equally girlie, like a flower print of burst of stars, and she started to play with his hair too, sometimes pulling it into a loose bun and sometimes into pretty pigtails. When Sophia came round, she liked to paint his nails in all kinds of sparkly colours, the two 'girls' sitting in Lu's ever more pink bedroom, with Justin Bieber in the background. But how long could such a thing really go on? As much as Heather revelled in having a little girl to bake with or to put in pretty dresses, the time was going to come when the questions became too difficult to answer. Like, why isn't 'Lucy' going to school? And why isn't she getting any older. I think Heather wanted to simply ignore those questions, but it hovered in the air, like a night terror at the end of the bed. Problem was, as the days and weeks started to pass, it was getting harder to imagine Lu as anything but a young girl. It was a role that in many ways he seemed perfectly suited for. No longer was he expected to overcome his short stature, in fact for the first time in his miserable existence he was actually quite tall for his 'age'. Nor was expected to fulfil any masculine role in society, or find a job that suited his meek and ultra shy personality. And then to top it all, he had a mother figure again. Two, even, although I was really more of the 'Daddy' now. By time September rolled around he'd even made a friend, an Indian girl of a similar age at his dance class called Isha, and the two of them looked very cute walking together, but more than that, Lu looked very normal. Heather wasn't ready to give her Lucy up. Displaying that fighting spirit I loved in her, albeit while spinning our web of lies ever wider, she cleverly told the gang that Lucy had been enrolled in Colston Manor, the private girl's school not far from where she herself had gone to school. It was a perfect lie. No-one could prove differently, and everyone knew it was a progressive school, already in the news of accepting trans students. To gild the lily, Heather even ordered the full uniform set from the school catalogue - purple pinafore dress, regulation green blouse, hockey kit - the works. Lu approached these items with the same wide-eyed terror that I'd seen a few times now, as though such items confirmed his girlhood at a whole new level. I'm sure he hoped it was just for show, or at worst that he'd have to get dressed up for a couple of photos. Heather had other ideas though. Without consulting me, she hired a private tutor and had the attic room converted into a 'schoolroom', complete with whiteboard and desk. Lu and I looked at each other when we learned the full scale of her plan, and not for the first time I wondered when enough was enough. Still, she seemed so happy, and explained my concerns away with a perfectly rational explanation. 'We can't perfectly say she's going to school and then let her sit at home at all day,' she explained, 'what if someone asks what she's been learning? Isha's mother, or Georgie? They've got or had kids of that age, so we better have a good answer. The tutor I've hired used to work at Colston Manor, so she'll take care of that.' Thus, to all extents and purposes, Lu found himself a 9 year old school kid again, only this time a schoolgirl. Heather had him tie up his hair each morning and change into the rather fussy uniform, and he was up and ready early enough each morning to give me a kiss before I went to work, which always gave me a little thrill, despite my reservations. The tutor, a young teacher he had to call Miss Bennett, apparently had no idea our Lucy was anything but the schoolgirl he seemed to so perfectly portray, and Lu was clearly clever enough not to show himself as too intelligent. When Georgie or Tracy came round in the evening he was sometimes still dressed in his uniform, purposely left in that fashion by Heather as to not arouse any suspicions, and usually he was laying on the floor, reading one of his books. It was about this time that I started to think that Heather really could keep this going forever, everything becomes the norm eventually, even a man older than both of us becoming our little girl. Her mothering instincts sated, Heather was happier and more cheerful that I could remember her in years, and it certainly paid off for me in the bedroom, our sex life becoming more like it had been as twentysomethings. She started to buy sexy underwear again, and surprise me with it after a long day at work, appearing in the doorway of the en-suite in black knickers, matching bra and suspenders, and imploring me to help her take them off. Her submissive side calling out for more, we even got into a little bit of bondage and spanking, my favourite being when she got dressed up like a secretary - short black skirt, too tight blouse - and had me spank her for being 'such a bad girl'. Afterwards, both wet, we'd give each other oral, just like the old days. Pretty much the only nights we rested were the ones when Lu appeared in the doorway in his nightie, worried about the noises outside his window. It took me a while to understand this, before I finally realised that the role he was playing gave him permission to act in such a childish fashion, and the perhaps it had been a load off his mind. A grown man couldn't be afraid of the dark, or of the rustling trees outside his window, but a 9 year old girl could. On those nights we let him into the bed with us, the bizarre situation lost on no-one, and with no sexual aspect to the event whatsoever. Rather I'd imagine it was exactly the same as when Sophia had climbed into the bed with Christopher and Tracy, and he cuddled into either of us with little self-awareness. By the time Christmas had come around, he had firmly become the ninth, and youngest, member of our gang. As well as dance class with Isha, he had started going to Brownies and Ballet lessons with her too, and Heather had even started him on piano lessons. During one pub lunch just before Christmas, a couple of boys had started to give him a hard time near the play area, pushing him around and trying to lift up his kilt skirt that he was wearing over thick black tights, naughty boys trying to show off to each other. I was about to go out and put a stop to it, but Quyen, ever wider and taller, beat me to it, pushing both boys to the floor and telling them to leave his cousin alone. I thought Charlie and Georgie's heart was going to burst from their chest such was their pride, especially when Quyen delivered the damsel in distress back to the table and into Heather's arms. It was a perfectly odd scene - a 12 year old boy rescuing a 36 year old man - and I revelled in it. The final step in Lu's conversion came a couple of months later, when Heather broached the subject of gender realignment surgery. I was shocked at the mere suggestion, but the more I thought about it the more it made sense. It was clear to me that Lu was more content and happy now than he'd ever been before, and even if he wasn't going to be our little girl forever, I suspected he'd be happier as a very small woman, rather than a very small man. More than that, the idea got lodged in my brain, and in the long dark nights of winter, I started to wonder if it wasn't an option for me too. Truth was, I was far more of a Father in the house than a Mother, and over the years the idea of wearing a dress or a skirt had become more and more repulsive. Not only that, I'd have hairy legs, an adam's apple and a penis, and I could enter Heather properly, and she could really be my woman. I toyed with the feelings for a long time, until the middle of the following summer in fact, and our next trip to Florida. What really got me was seeing Lu in the middle of his little girl gang, three girls his 'age' who he'd befriended surprisingly confidently at the start of the holiday, the four of them giggling as a cute boy walked past. Lu actually looked happy, and Heather and I decided there and then to finally bring up the idea of gender realignment surgery. It even made sense - he'd start hormone treatment at just about the time a real little girl might puberty. He already dressed for the fancy dress party when we told him - this year he was Belle from Beauty and the Beast, just like Sophia had been the year before - and after staring at us for a few moments, he gave a typically understated nod of the head. But it was only half the story for me, and at some point during the night I tentatively raised the idea of me going the other way. Heather looked stunned for a moment, but then a smile started to form on her sultry red lips, 'I suspected as much,' she said. She knew me better than I knew myself, and God, I loved her for it. It's funny really. After all those years chasing the odd and revelling in the bizarre, I'm now the patriarch in a very normal family, at least on the surface. When we go out for a fancy meal they call me 'sir' as they take my smart cord coat, Heather 'madam' as they lift the shawl from her shoulders, and Lucy 'miss', as they take one of her pretty pastel coloured coats. Father, Mother, Daughter. Heather calls me her 'man', I call her my 'woman', and we both call Lucy our 'girl'. But what's in a name, or a title, really?