Brothers And Sisters - Chapter 3 free porn video

It was hard to decide just what I thought of "working" at the playgroup, and to say I was "working" at all would have been a stretch of the boldest proportions. A worker, to me, was a factory worker, or a teacher, or a doctor, or a binman. I seemed to spend nearly all my time "playing," not at all voluntarily of course, with Sophia and her little band of girlfriends. More explanation is needed. Since it had been decided I'd work with Rachael in the outside playground, while Carly tended to the children when they moved to play indoors (generally only when it was raining, or when it was time for the younger one's afternoon nap), and while the "twins," a pair of Irish girls of about 25 or so called Aoife and Sinead, looked after the toddlers and infants in the nursery, a further demarcation had taken place almost immediately - namely, that I'd focus more on looking after the girls, and Rachael would look after the boys. This made sense in many ways. After all, Rachael had no problem dealing with unruly, rambunctious little boys, and didn't share any of my feelings of intimidation around them, and I, rather shamefully, felt more comfortable helping the girls. Although, helping is a loose description for what I was doing. Yes, there were times when I have to direct one of the little girls in to Carly, so that she might be taken to the bathroom, and yes, I always had to hand around the milk and fruit at snack-time, but mostly I found myself standing with Sophia, who revelled in her self-appointed position as "Head of the Girls," and was the one to think up the games they'd play, and who'd carry out which role. Incredibly, and with no little mirth in her childish eyes, she made every attempt possible to include ME in her delegation, and while I sometimes managed to excuse myself on the somewhat thin explanation that it would interfere with my need to "supervise," I also, in those first few days, found myself holding a skipping rope, playing hide and seek, finding costumes for the doctors and nurses game, and helping collect daisies for the giant daisy chains Sophia wanted to create. The only boy in our midst normally was Elliot, who the girls seemed to accept as the alien in their group, and who (like me) seemed more comfortable with the girls than the boys. I learned also that he was Louie's little brother, which was amazing in itself given their completely different look and attitude, and that Lexie, the cute little blonde girl of around 5 or 6 who followed Sophia around like an apostle, was his little sister, which made it all the more surprising when, at times, he took Lexie's barked orders in his direction without complaint. I knew how he felt. Of course, it shouldn't be forgotten that Sophia was still only 9, going on 10, and so, without development as yet of a filter in her thoughts and speech, was only too happy to inform the other girls that I, Jessie, their 18 year old supervisor, wore knickers under his jeans. She asked, on the very first morning, while Lexie stood next to her and giggled in amazement, whether I was wearing Amelia's knickers right then, and seemed disappointed when she found out I wasn't. This was made worse by my certainty that Rachael, who had just happened to be collecting a stray football for the boys from behind us at that moment, had overhead, and I'm sure I saw her grin. At home, for the first couple of weeks of that summer holiday, while I grew used to "working" at the playgroup and while Amelia regaled us constantly with boring stories from Soccer Camp, including how she was clearly the best girl there, and how the coach liked her best, things had started to settle into a routine. With the decision made that I couldn't possibly wear knickers to the playgroup Mum, thankfully, shared my old briefs evenly between Amelia and I, with the only drawback being that I (and Amelia in fact) had to revert to knickers at the weekend, which seemed a small price to pay. During one of those weekends I made a renewed attempt to play World of Errion, the RPG I'd bought before being consumed by Bear Island. I found it no easier, still unable to proceed past the first world, and frankly felt silly playing such a grown up, boyish game sitting as I was, in a pair of pink knickers and still clad in my purple nightie (I had not bothered yet to get up and change). I was about to give up when Amelia, already dressed for the day in one of her football kits, wondered past and enquired what I was doing. I told her, and her eyes shot greedily towards the screen. Within moments she had pushed me to one side in the bed and, with her legs resting gently on top of mine under the quilt, had wrestled the controller from me, not that I had many objections, given how stuck I was on the Goblin guarding the gate. "It's impossible," I told her, as she intently studied my inventory menu. "It can't be impossible," she shot back, shaking her head, "you just need to think harder." I sat and watched for best part of two hours as, with a focus and determination that was undoubtedly most impressive, Amelia slowly and surely built up her weapon and knowledge base, showing off a bravery and early mastery of the game that left me feeling quite ashamed of my own lack of ability in the area. Most interestingly of all, while engrossed in the game, Amelia acted in a way I had barely seen before - namely that she was chatty, friendly and, yes, even considerate. "Do you want to try?" she asked, pointing the controller in my direction after slaying one of the ice-dragons. "It's easy. Just select the fire catapult and..." "No, no, I'm fine," I said, "I prefer just to watch you." I felt silly saying this, but it was true. I felt sillier still when Mum, coming into to check on us given our failure to come to breakfast, found me watching intently as Amelia rained her way through the latest room of monsters, but frankly I couldn't find much cause to care. It was better than fighting with Amelia, after all, and much better than having her tease me for whatever reason took her fancy. The next day, with me in a pair of my faded cargo shorts and her in the Tottenham kit Mum had bought the week before, but both of us in a pair of her knickers, we sat down at the kitchen table and sketched out a map of the latest cave "we" were exploring in the game and, without much discussion, Amelia took it upon herself to draw the outlines and the monsters, while I followed behind colouring them in. "That's really good," Amelia said, without a hint of malice, as I shaded in one of the walls and, somewhat shamefully, I felt myself revelling in her praise. It had been Amelia's idea, relayed through excited, wordless prose, that we could have a "sleepover" in my room, affording the opportunity to really get through the game. I baulked at first, the connotation of such a thing at the forefront of my refusal, but Amelia went on and on until, after endless badgering the following Friday afternoon, I finally gave my consent. Mum was not too sure. "It's a bit weird," she said, as though forgetting she was punishing her 18 year old son with girl's underwear and pyjamas, and making him work as a playgroup assistant. "It's not weird!" Amelia replied, thoroughly confused at the suggestion, "we want to play World of Errion!!" "Really Jessie?" Mum said, looking at me as I stood meekly by Amelia. "Er...well....it would be fun...." Mum's brow furrowed, and after a few moment's consideration, said, "no, no. I don't think it's right. You can't share a bed." "We won't share a bed!" Amelia said, as though she couldn't believe Mum would be so silly, "I've got the sleeping bag we keep her for Sophia. Jessie can sleep in the bed and I'll sleep on the floor. Oh please Mum, please?" At this point Amelia sounded more like the little girl I once remembered her being, and it felt odd seeing her act as such, dressed, as she was, in her Tottenham kit again. But Mum shook her head more firmly. "No. I think you should stick to your own rooms." I knew what she was thinking. For while my status as an 18 year-old boy might have felt very tenuous and very distant at most times, I was, after all, still a man and Amelia, thought very confident and ever more boyish, was still a little girl. I suppose everyone must have their line in the sand and for Mum this seemed to be the idea of us sharing a bedroom, even for one night. Amelia, clever girl she was, also seemed to sense Mum's problem with the idea and, putting her mind to work in the same way as I'd witnessed such problem solving when trying to get past goblins and fire-dragons in the game, came up with a solution. "Mum, Mum," she said, pulling Mum back by the hand, "what if....what if....what if we pretended to be two boys? I could wear my Tottenham shirt and I'd give Jessie one of my other shirts. Yes, yes, that's it! Oh Mum please? That would be so fun?" "Amelia, I don't know about...." I began to counter, finding the idea strangely repellent, perhaps because of the suggestion that I should "pretend" to be a boy. "That's silly," Mum replied, but something in her expression had changed, and I found myself quite staggered as the next words rolled from her tongue, "although...although.....we do want Jessie to start acting more like a boy....a man....and maybe you could teach him a few things." "What?" I said incredulously. "Yes, yes I could," Amelia replied, bouncing up and down, "I'd help him play the game, I promise!" "Hmmm," Mum said, looking at us both. "What do you think Jessie?" "I think it's stupid," I shot back. I hadn't minded the idea of Amelia sleeping in my room, and I'd been keen to see how the game progressed, but the idea of being taught how to be a BOY by my little sister? That was absurd, and I told them so. "But Amelia is better at boy things than you," Mum countered, "she's better at football, she cuts the grass for me (I'd found the lawnmower too cumbersome), she seems to be better at your computer game. Isn't the point of this that you act more like a boy?" "More like a man," I replied, "and...." "So, what's the problem?" Mum said. "Unless of course, you DON'T want to learn how to be a boy?" "I am a boy," I said, feeling desperate. "Amelia, I know what the problem is. I think Jessie would be more comfortable if we asked Sophia to come around so they could have a GIRL sleepover. You know, do each other's hair and play dollies. I hear they're just the best of friends at playgroup." "No Mum," Amelia protested, "I want to have a BOY sleepover! With Jessie!" "Well, that depends on what Jessie wants." It might not be so bad, I thought glumly, as I finally confirmed my preference for a boy sleepover, an idea which a few minutes before I'd been OK with, but which now seemed like a whole new form of punishment, with Amelia immediately warming to the idea of "teaching" me how to be a boy by grabbing me by the arm and saying we should watch some instructional videos on YouTube to prepare for Errion again. At least I could wear boy's clothes to bed for once, even if said clothes did belong to my little sister. Amelia didn't let me out of sight for the rest of the evening, even having me stand with her while we brushed our teeth in the bathroom mirror while she, with increasing excitedness, explained her strategies for progressing in the caves. We were dressed for bed already by this point, which had been an experience in itself. Cast deep into Amelia's bedroom, I stood by pliantly while she mused over which of her old football kits I should borrow, very mindful of the obvious fact that I was a few inches shorter than her now, and that her current kits might be a bit too baggy. "Honestly Amelia, I wouldn't worry about it." But I was learning that Amelia took any task very seriously, including her newly appointed one of "teaching" me how to be a boy, and so, after much deliberation, she settled on one of her old P.E. tops, fetched deep from the bags at the back of the closet, and bearing, in faded motif, the logo of St. Christopher's Junior School. "Not that," I said, holding the white t-shirt in my hands and noticing that, like many things I owned, it had Amelia's name stitched into it, under the collar. Worse still, the full description was AMELIA NEVILLE YEAR 5. While mulling over this embarrassment, Amelia handed me the small red shorts that accompanied it, inscribed with the same description. "Yes, they'll fit you well," Amelia said, not inviting any chance of a discussion. Quite how wearing a girls" PE kit would help me learn how to be a boy I wasn't sure, but not wanting an argument I dressed myself in the offending garments while Amelia rushed off to my room to prepare my console. That I was left standing alone in her still quite girly room, dressing myself in her little, discarded PE kit, could hardly go unnoticed but, as I concluded after looking at myself in her pink framed mirror, it was better than a nightie. "Very cute," Mum smiled. She just happened to be standing outside Amelia's door of course, and I felt quite stupid as she span me around a little, a glint in her eye. She made to say something else, but instead beckoned me towards my bedroom, with the instruction to be asleep by 11 and to keep the noise down. She, revealed to me as I was pushed down the hall, intended to relax in-front of a film with a glass of wine and the half a Toblerone she had left over from her birthday. I cannot say I didn't enjoy the next few hours, with the caveat that I was constantly away of my attire, and of Amelia's quite obvious domination in our relationship. For while she played the game - sitting comfortably on my bed with her blonde hair against the headboard and her feet resting far further down the bed than mine did when sitting in such a position - I made a place for myself on the floor at the foot of the bed, from where Amelia deemed me more useful in my task as map-reader, using the colourful map we'd created the previous weekend. "Hello boys," Mum said, poking her head through the door as the evening wore on, "having fun, are we?" "Yes Mum," Amelia shot back. "Make sure Jessie has a turn Amelia," Mum said, before adding, "you know, we need a different name for you while in your boy mode, don't we Amelia?" At this Amelia pointed the game and looked encouraged. "Yes we do! I didn't think of that." "Any preference?" Amelia considered this for a few short moments, "Harry. Like Harry Kane. Oh, that'll match my shirt!" "Alright Harry," Mum said, in a mock-cockney brogue, "make sure your brother gets a turn." "You should call me Harry too," Amelia instructed me, after Mum had left, looming over me from her position on the bed with the Tottenham kit starting to darken as the light outside faded, the room become illuminated only by the moody colours of World of Errion emitting from the TV. The thought of doing so made me feel really quite strange, and so while I nodded my acceptance of the command, I refrained from actually using it. When 11 o'clock arrived, and was greeted my Mum poking her head in again and reminding us "boys" it was bedtime, I walked around the far side of the bed and made to climb in, thinking Amelia would exit from the other side and climb into her pink sleeping bag positioned neatly on the rug by my bed, which I had laid out for her moments before. "I think I'll stay here," she said, throwing her hands up in a mock yawn, "It's REALLY comfortable. More comfortable than my bed. I'm getting too big for that. Mum really needs to buy me a new one." "But that wasn't the plan," I said, in a small voice, watching her settle in under my blue summer quilt and place her head firmly down on my pillows. "Well, that's the plan now," she retorted, "I just made it, and I'm in charge, remember?" "Who put you in charge?" "Mum did. She wants ME to teach YOU how to be a boy, so I must be in charge." "You're not really teaching me....I mean...I'm already a boy...and," but my stammering was met with deaf ears, and the instruction, doled out in most authoritative manner, to get into my sleeping bag, and quickly! "I want to be awake early to play more," she continued, "we need to get past the first witch tomorrow," she yawned for real as this point, before continuing sleepily, "I think we should try one of the potions we got from the merchant, don't you?" But I'd stopped caring, instead cursing my timid nature as I dutifully, and with no little shame, clambered into the small sleeping bag on the floor and rested my head fitfully on the purple pillow Amelia had brought in from her room. We were awake again by 6 (though in reality I'd been awake much earlier, as difficult as I'd found it to sleep on the uncomfortable floor), and Amelia wasted no time having me turn on the console before jumping up and down on the bed half an hour later when finally realising how to defeat the witch. "See how clever I am?" she boasted, while I sleepily congratulated her and wondered just how many of her lessons on boyhood I'd be able to endure. Because, if I had thought they'd stop with a Worlds of Errion sleepover I was most horribly mistaken as, after brushing my teeth and brushing my hair with Amelia, my ever energetic sister decided we should head out and play football, ignoring my protestations with a shake of her head and a declaration that I could wear her spare PE kit. "I can't go outside wearing that?" "Why not?" Amelia said, "boys and girls wear it." Anyway it mattered little whether I wanted to go out or not, because, after throwing a mini-tantrum at the thought of it, Mum decided it necessary to dress me in the kit herself, doing so with my sitting on her lap while perched on Amelia's bed, with me still complaining bitterly about this most childish of situations. "Next time you'll get dressed without complaint then," Mum said. "Really Jessie, are you going to let Amelia..sorry, Harry...help you or not?" It didn't much feel like help, especially after the first hour in the back garden in which Amelia had me standing terrified in the middle of the chalked-out goal she'd created on the wall, ducking and squeaking desperately when a shot would smack against my bare legs. "Be braver," she groaned, "God, Sophia makes more of an effort than you." All this was bad enough, but I was positively aghast when Amelia announced her intention for us to go to the park to find "an actual game'. "I can't go out like this!" I cried, feeling like it was becoming my motto. "Why not?" Amelia said, that fast becoming her motto. "You just look like a boy." My hand locked in hers, and with my heart beating at a whole new, superfast tempo, she led me down the street and to the large city park just over the fly-over which, much to my horror, was fairly filled with children and families. "I want to go home," I whimpered, feeling about 10 inches tall, or like one of the little crickets I could see bouncing about in the grass. "You're learning how to be a boy, remember," she said primly, her hand still holding mine and looking very much like the "big brother" she was becoming, as she discovered a group of boys about her age playing a very rough looking game of football. "That's Louie!" I gasped, noticing the large ginger boy in the centre of the pitch. "Who's Louie?" she replied, still barrelling towards them. "No, we can't go there," I pleaded, trying to pull back, "I know him. He's horrible. He's at the playgroup." "Yeah, he looks like an idiot," she replied, seemingly not caring about my concerns, "we'll make him look silly." I thought that was unlikely, and flushed a whole new shade of red when Louie finally spotted us. "Ha, looking at him," he said, his belly pushing out against his Arsenal shirt. "He works at the playgroup," he told his friends, "though I think he's actually a little GIRL. Is this your big sister, little GIRL?" The boys with him laughed, and I wanted to die. Literally. Die. "Shut up," Amelia replied boldly, "he's my brother, yes. We want to play." "No girls allowed," he replied sharply, "and no Tottenham fans neither. Go and play over there with the girls." At this he pointed at Lexie and Elliot, who I had not noticed until then, and who were sitting cross- legged on the floor nearby, Elliot in a pair of long beige shorts and a striped t-shirt with a cap covering his hair, and Lexie in a navy blue sundress with her blonde hair sparkling in the sun and fashioned into two large pig-tails, navy blue ribbon in both, the pair of them playing a clapping game. "C'mon, let's go," I whispered to Amelia, who herself had reddened in the face, out of sheer annoyance I would have thought. "No, I'm playing," she said, throwing herself into the match against Louie's wishes and joining up with the team one man short, who looked surprised and annoyed themselves, until she dribbled past three of the opposing team and they realised her to be an asset. "C'mon Jessie," Amelia cried from the middle of the game, "start playing." "No," Louie shouted, "we've got even teams now." Amelia didn't fight my case further, instead concentrating her attentions once more on the frantic game around her, and my attention was taken by Elliot and Lexie bouncing around me, delighted that I should be there. "You're wearing my PE kit," Elliot said, quite astounded, "but you're a grown up?" "Er...well....yes," I stammered, relieved to have Lexie interrupt my desperate explanation by holding my hand and imploring me to play the clapping game with her, which I did after we moved, at Lexie's insistence, further away from the "boys" to a quiet spot in the corner of the park. "Watch me," she lisped, showing the pattern of her clapping with her small pudgy hands while clumsily singing the accompanying song, which I knew already, "Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, all dressed in black, black, black....." I played with Lexie first, feeling so incredibly self-conscious as I did so but somewhat relieved to find people pass by without comment or wonderment at what I was doing, and then, when Lexie grew bored, played the same with Elliot. I liked them both - Lexie was brave and cheerful, while Elliot reminded me of myself at that age - and to be frank, I found myself quite eventually oblivious to the scene around me, and quite happy to join in with whatever they were doing. It was only when, after a prolonged period of buzzing around manically, Lexie somehow contrived to wet herself, her navy blue sundress darkening immediately and the girl starting to cry, that the realisation of just what I'd been doing hit home. "She does that sometimes," Elliot whispered. "I'd better take her home. LOUIE," he cried, "we're going home." "Should I take you?" I asked, feeling very sorry for Lexie but feeling utterly embarrassed for myself. "No, we only live there," he said, pointing to a gate adjoining the park. "Mummy says we're allowed to go home by ourselves. C'mon Lexie...." Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, I thought darkly, as I watched the pair of them pootle away, wondering if I really had just been their playmate for the afternoon? "Baby," Louie hissed at me when I returned to the side-line of their game. Amelia was still at it, and looking a lot less tired than the boys around her, but, in a most grown up way, she took the sight of me standing forlornly at the side of the pitch as a good one that it was time to go home also. "Where did they go?" She asked, of Elliot and Lexie. "Oh...errr....they were tired." "Oh right," she said, panting a little, "let's go home anyway. I want to try and beat the second witch." With my hand in hers again, I had more than enough time to consider, as we bounded home, that my life as an 18 year-old boy seemed further away than ever. We had another sleepover that night, while Amelia swept past the aforementioned second Witch, while I sat quietly on the floor, now no longer even needed for map-reading, such was Amelia's mastery of the game. And then the time came to go to bed, prompted by Mum's reminder that it was 11 o'clock, I took my place in the pink sleeping bag without discussion, while Amelia began to plan further explorations in the ever more difficult World of Errion. Sunday being church day, we were both instructed to take a bath in the morning, with Amelia going first while I tidied the mess created in my room by last night's activities, and when it came my turn to bathe I spent an awfully long time looking down at my small, weak body, wondering just what karmic crimes I had ever committed to deserve such a wretched shell? Upon drying, I found Mum had already laid out my suit on the bed - red bow tie and all - but when I opened my top drawer I found a complete lack of my briefs. "Amelia....sorry, Harry....must have the last pair," Mum said, when I complained by shouting downstairs, still clad in only my large bath towel. She also informed me, somewhat peevishly, that if I wanted to wash the briefs I was welcome to, otherwise I could wait until later when the week's washing was done. "Amelia," I called in through her closed door, "I want the briefs." "No chance," she called back, "and call me Harry!" Such an idea seemed ridiculous as she emerged in one of her slightly too small Sunday frocks, the white one with the purple sash and white tights, and I complained bitterly that she should have "stolen" the last pair of briefs, and that seeing as she was dressed like a girl, that she should wear knickers. "Yeah right," was her dismissive reply, barging past me as I stood, shivering and cold, in the hallway. "Mum!" I cried in protest again, in a higher-pitched squeal this time. "Make Amelia give me my underwear." Mum was already dressed in her burgundy knee length dress, and was in the midst of putting in her ear-rings as she came upstairs, "I've told you a hundred times Jessie. I'm not going to police your little sister for you. Now, hurry up." Grumpily, but with little choice otherwise (for there was no way Mum would allow me to go without underwear), I took the plainest pair of white knickers I could find from the "girl" underwear half of my drawer, and then hid them as quickly as I could underneath my horrible, faded suit. The church was filling up by the time we arrived, and I was surprised to find Lexie and Elliot race over to me, especially as I'd never noticed them at church before. "We only come when Granny is staying with us," Elliot explained, shuffling around in his tidy suit with its short trousers. "Will you sit with me?" Lexie pleaded, twirling around in her pink frock as I noticed Sophia wonder over to talk to Amelia, the pair of them looking at me with a grin as a fended off Lexie's attention. "Maybe next week," I said, "you better get back to your Gran." Louie, I was glad to note, was not in attendance. It was while sitting in church, with Amelia one side of me and Sophia the other, their frocks lapping onto my trousers, that I came to realise my stupidity. Why, for heaven's sake, hadn't I been into town to buy myself new clothes? New underwear, new clothes for playgroup, a new suit for church? New nightwear even, if it might dissuade Mum from putting me back in Amelia's things. Once formed, the idea took root and grew traction until I felt a desperate urge to get up, there and then, and go straight into town. I managed to hold this in until we got home, but as soon as I'd had time to change into a t-shirt and jeans (trying to ignore the knickers below) I rushed back out the door, ignoring Mum's questions as to where I was going. I walked into town - it was only fifteen minutes or so - and winced as I passed the park, in where I could see Louie and his friends playing football again, but also Elliot and Lexie running around playing some game or another. "You can't let that be your world," I said to myself over and over, watching the taller buildings of the town centre grow larger amidst the sunny Sunday afternoon and hoping, against hope, that the nerves I was feeling in my stomach about shopping would soon fade. I'd always hated shopping - even online shopping - for clothes, mainly because it was so hard to find something in my size, but also because new clothes felt so uncomfortable and strange. Still, as I mingled through the crowds and into Next, I resolved that such a sacrifice was not just necessary, but essential. First was a suit, I decided, and after browsing for as long as I could muster, I settled on a smart-looking navy suit with white shirt and a blue tie. Not having any idea of my best size, and with absolutely no intention of using the changing rooms, I selected SMALL MENS, thinking that I was, after all, a small man, and that even if were a little too baggy that it might serve perfectly when I had my growth spurt. I also took the opportunity, with great relish, to buy 18 pairs of black boxer shorts in the same size, and some socks, and a pair of smart black brogues in a men's size 6, which I knew would fit well enough. "That's ?190," the pretty girl behind the counter said, as she folded each item into a bag without comment. I felt a pain as I placed my contactless card onto the reader, knowing that such an amount comprised the majority of the money in my account, and how many other things I'd prefer to spend money on, like for instance, I thought as the girl nodded me a good-bye, some of the special add-ons you could now get for Bear Island.... 'Stop it,' I warned myself, even more so when I passed the toy shop and winced at the plush Bear Island toys in the window. Boy bears in dungarees and girl bears in pretty dresses. 'Stop it,' I thought again, heading to the sports shop to buy some cheap polo shirts and, then, to a very trendy menswear shop where the man serving me (he looked Italian and had long hair in a pony-tail), asked if I needed anything else as I purchased two pairs of jeans for an amount that made my head spin, and which certainly wiped out my account. "Rachael will like these," I thought to myself as I looked at the trendy jeans while on the bus home, and I barged through the house with comment again when I arrived back, oddly excited to try on my purchases and annoyed to find Amelia lounging on my bed, playing World of Errion again. "You'll have to get out," I said. "Why?" she replied, before spotting the bags. "Oh cool, you bought some clothes. Let me see!" "NO!" I shouted, surprising myself. These were my clothes, and for once in the stupid house, I was going to have something to call my own! At this point Mum, changed into a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt after church, came into the room, and expressed equal excitement at my purchases. "Though you should have told me where you were going." I shook my head in utter contempt for her, the clothes in my hands somehow giving me the strength to realise I could no longer accept her odd punishment of me and that, starting with my new garments, my life as an 18 year old would re-commence. Starting, I told Amelia brusquely, to get OUT OF MY ROOM! But Amelia, or Harry, or whatever we were calling her now, laughed off my threat and jumped off the bed, before pulling one the bags from my desperate grasp. "Mum, tell her to leave those alone!" I cried, feeling ever more fed-up. "Oh, these are sweet!" Amelia said, holding the jeans up against herself and then, without seeking permission, pulling them up over her Tottenham shorts and around her waist where, using the last buckle on the accompanying belt, they just about stayed in place and were only just a little too long in the leg. "Very smart," Mum said, clapping. "Take them off," I shouted, already not sure I wanted the jeans any longer - as though just by Amelia wearing them, she'd made them less masculine. "You try them on," Amelia said, handing me the jeans back. "Later," I hissed, the garment suddenly feeling very heavy. "Oh, come on," Mum said, "we want to see!" I was afforded no other say in the matter as, with Amelia cheering, Mum reached around and unbuckled the jeans I was wearing, leaving me complaining bitterly as my knickers were displayed to the room. "Stop it!" I yelled, as Mum pulled me onto her lap once more and began running the jeans up my legs, while Amelia rummaged around in my other purchases. "For crying out loud, how can I be a man in this house if you don't let me...." But, even with the last buckle on the belt fastened, it was clear to all that the jeans were just too big, leaving me holding them up with my right hand as I started to cry at the shame of it all. The same was true of the suit, which Mum dressed me in while Amelia sat on the bed, resting her head on her elbows and kicking her feet in the air. "He looks silly," she commented, as I drowned in the men's suit. "What on earth possessed you to buy small men's?" Mum asked, pulling the suit jacket from my shoulders as I continued to spill salty tears onto my cheeks. "OH GROW UP," Mum snapped eventually, "it's not my fault, or your sister's fault, that you bought a load of silly clothes, is it?" "I'll take them back next week," I replied, drying my tears and shaking my head to show I knew she was right. I felt so stupid, so annoyed, so ashamed, that all I wanted to do was have a nap. "No," Amelia said, positioning herself back in such a way to re-commence her game, "you'll have to sleep on the floor." I looked at Mum briefly, but she cut off my complaints with her usual command for me to "take control of the situation." This all felt so terribly unfair, and when Amelia took to laughing again at the silly suit on the floor, I found myself sobbing all over again and saying, "It's not fair Mummy. Tell her to get out of my room. Tell her!" At this Mum sighed and shook her head. "That's it," she said, standing up. "I've tried and tried with you Jessie. Had you play boy's games. Got you a job. Gave you lots of chances to stand up to Amelia. And yet, this is how you act, still?" "It's not fair," I cried again, while Amelia laughed. At this Mum grabbed my hand and, with Amelia following sharply behind, led me straight to Amelia's room where, while I continued to sob, and still only dressed in a pair of knickers, she placed me down on Amelia's purple quilt cover. "Really Jessie, really...." she continued to say, rummaging through the black bags in Amelia's closet, and going back further than I'd see her before. "No Mummy!" I cried, as she returned with what was clearly a little girl's nightie, and one, I realised as she unfolded it to normal size, from when Amelia was quite a bit younger - a canary yellow nightie with a ruffled hem, teddy bear embossed on the front and floppy bow on the back. "You're going to make him wear THAT?" Amelia said in amazement. "Mummy, no, please!" I said, but after being lifted onto her lap again the nightie was pulled over my head where, after some tugging on her part, it just about fell past my knickers, almost like something a baby girl might wear. "Here you go," Mum said, twirling me around, "actually, hold on one sec..." "Mummy!" I cried again, as Amelia had her turn at spinning me around, recalling how she'd worn the nightie when she was a little girl. "I thought we'd kept these," Mum said, bringing back a pair of ruffled yellow knickers, clearly meant to be worn with the nightie as a set. "Oh that's too funny," Amelia laughed, as Mum pulled back onto her lap and replaced my white knickers with those horrible yellow ones, which could be seen quite clearly with every step I took. "Why are you doing this?" I whimpered, feeling so terribly small in the attire. "Why?" Mum replied. "Because JESSICA, I'm tired of trying to make you a boy. And more than that, it seems you're not even capable of being a 10 year-old like Amelia...sorry, Harry. So maybe being a little GIRL is the best course of action. Maybe that'll make you grow up. Now, you can have that nap you wanted." "Mummy!" I tried once more, being lifted into Amelia's bed, amongst her remaining teddies, the ones not replaced by footballer bobble heads. "Ssh now Jessica," Mum said, turning to leave, "c'mon Harry, let your little SISTER sleep now. Let's go and have another look at those clothes, see what'll fit you." I made to get up and follow, but realising just how much I didn't want to be seen in the frothy yellow nightie, and just how tired I really was, I instead let my eyes grow heavy, the last thing I remember looking at was the console on the floor, and my girl bear waiting inside it.