Champions Part 9

                                         This is a long part.

    “Pet I want to ask you something and I want you to promise me that you’ll give me an honest answer.” “Of course I will,” I replied puzzled by the seriousness in her voice, and “what do you want to know?” “Actually it’s not one thing, it’s more, but first I need to know just how you’re feeling at this moment.” “Feeling? Well sort of strange, I don’t know how to put it.” “No, maybe I put it badly, what I mean is that here you are a little boy wearing girl’s clothes. What I want to know is do you think that they’re uncomfortable? Do you think that your normal clothes are more comfortable?” “No, they’re not uncomfortable they feel quite nice actually they just feel, well, different to my normal clothes.” “Do you feel like a sissy wearing them?” she asked. “Well I did I suppose at first, but when I saw myself  I thought that I looked alright so it didn’t bother me anymore that way. I don’t think that I’d want to wear clothes like these all the time though.” “Perish the thought,” she replied with a laugh and took hold of my hand looking at me closely. “I admit I had misgivings about agreeing for you to play netball for the school and having to wear a skirt. I was almost on the point of refusing but when I thought about it I began to ask myself just what were my reasons for refusing. After all a skirt is just an item of clothing albeit different from the things that boys normally wear. I also realised that it wouldn’t be a problem for you because with your looks and build you would easily be mistaken for a girl if you wore a skirt.” I shuffled about on my frilled bottom not knowing where all this was leading, she continued talking. “I was also worried about the effect it would have on you and that’s why I insisted that if ever you have second thoughts about it you could pull out of the team with no questions asked. Another thing that bothered me was more to do with my own thoughts. You hear about mothers who desperately want a little girl but all they have is a little boy. I’ve read stories about them putting their little boys into dresses and giving them girls hairstyles just so they can pretend that they have a daughter. That sort of thing must be devastating for the boy’s in question; can you imagine me doing that sort of thing to you? I had first hand experience of that sort of thing a few years ago and it made me so angry.” “What happened?” I asked intrigued.

    “Well if you really want to know, it happened when you were only about three years old. I used to assist the local Scout Group helping run one of the Cub packs. The Pack was working with the other units at that time to put on a local Gang Show. After they had sorted out all the acts and sketches there came the problem of casting, you know getting the right boys picked for the various roles. The group was strictly all males so, as seemed to be tradition in the Scouts, the boys themselves performed any female roles This of course led to a lot of leg pulling and micky taking for the boy’s chosen to play girls. The Cubs normally bore the brunt of providing ‘girls’ because as they were younger they looked more convincing and of course they could be more easily persuaded. Our pack was asked to provide four boys to take girls parts in a short play. Of course none of our boys wanted to have to dress up like girls so as we didn’t get any volunteers it was left to the Akela and us helpers to select the most likely candidates, or should I say victims. Having carefully selected four likely boys we then had to call on all our collective powers of persuasion in order to get the boys and their parents to agree to do it. Once that was sorted out we then had to turn our attention to the costumes that they would have to wear. It was normal for the boys and their parents to make or provide their own costumes and on this occasion we couldn’t see any real problems in that area. The costumes for our boys were nothing out of the ordinary, just cotton dresses with the appropriate socks and shoes etc. the Group would provide wigs and things like that if they were needed. We were reasonably confident that the boys would all have sisters, cousins or friends to enable them to borrow the appropriate items. We gave each boy a detailed list of the requirements to take home and thought that there wouldn’t be any real problems apart from getting the boys to actually wear the dresses. The Scout HQ was not very big and although there was a stage the changing facilities were very limited. It was because of this that all performers were asked that wherever possible they should arrive at the HQ ready in their costumes.” I wasn’t sure where this was leading but I listened with interest while she continued.

    “Well rehearsals got under way and our four boys really got into their parts well. They didn’t have a lot to say in the play but it was necessary for them to be on stage for most of the time. A week before the dress rehearsals we contacted each boy’s families to check if there were any problems with the costumes. None were reported and the Group would not have to provide any wigs. Two of the boys had fairly long hair and their mothers reckoned their hair could easily be combed into a ponytail or bunches. The third boy’s mother said that her daughter had a wig that she used for dancing displays so he would be able to used that. When we contacted the fourth boy’s mother, a boy called Peter, she assured us that there was no problem with his costume and on the question of the wig she replied mysteriously that it wouldn’t be required because she had ‘special arrangements’. On the day of the dress rehearsal backstage at the HQ was a mass of boys wearing all manner of costumes waiting for their turn to perform. We had erected a large tent by the back door to give extra space and this too was full. We stood looking out for our quartet and the two who had not required wigs were the first to arrive, both of them had their hair tied in little girl bunches complete with bows and they did look cute, if not a little nervous, in their little cotton dresses. The third boy, Gary, arrived a few seconds later and was wearing a rather splendid dark shoulder length wig and the three of them stood together looking apprehensive. We were getting a little concerned because Peter had still not arrived then suddenly I saw his mother pushing her way through the crowd. I couldn’t see Peter but when his mother reached me she explained that she had left him to wait in the car because she didn’t want to spoil the look of his costume pushing his way through the mass trying to find us. It seemed an odd thing to say but before I could respond she was off to get her son. It was when I saw Peter that I really got upset, he was wearing what was an obviously very expensive white dress liberally decorated with tiny white satin bows. It was obvious that under the short full skirt he was wearing a net petticoat. The costume was completed by a pair of lace trimmed ankle socks and white button shoes. However it was his hair that I really took exception to and at first I thought he was wearing a wig. On closer inspection it was obvious that it was his own hair only now it had changed from his normal dark brown to light blond. It had been expertly restyled so that it now was a mass of loose curls that framed his rather petit face. The effect  was finished off by a white bow of satin ribbon. I didn’t know what to say and I didn’t get a chance because his mother kissed him goodbye on the cheek and left. I didn’t even have time to speak to him because at that moment the four ‘girls’ were called on stage so I went to stand in the wings to watch their performance. I really felt for Peter because this was not what the spirit of Gang Shows is all about. The other three looked like what they were, little boys wearing dresses and it was all a bit of fun. Peter however didn’t look like that at all he looked, well, like a real little girl. When they had finished their rehearsal I had a chance to talk to him alone which wasn’t difficult because the other three were obviously embarrassed by his girlish transformation and left him standing all by himself. All I could think of to start the conversation was, “well done Peter you were very good at rehearsal, my that is a nice dress did your Mum borrow it from someone?” The poor mite looked like he was about to burst into tears as his bottom lip started to tremble. “No she took me down to London last Saturday to buy it, she then took me to a salon to have my hair done like this.” 

    I was rather taken aback by this, “you mean that you’ve had to go around all week with your hair like that? Wasn’t it a bit awkward when you went outside, didn’t anyone say anything? It must have attracted some comments from your friends.” “Well it was a bit of a problem but we’re not at school this week and I don’t have that many friends. It didn’t really matter if anyone saw me because mummy bought me two everyday dresses so I could practice wearing one. So if anyone did see me they thought that I was a… girl.” The bottom lip started to tremble again and I was sure that he was going to cry. “You mean that you’ve had to wear dresses all week, do you mind?” “It’s not so bad I suppose, Mummy says it is our little game and she seems to like it when I’m dressed like this. I don’t really like dresses because they keep getting in the way and it’s difficult riding my bicycle. Mummy says that I will have to wear this dress when we go to the seaside to see my Gran on Sunday, she says that Gran will really like seeing me in it.” “Well you can imagine how angry I felt. Just how could she inflict that sort of thing on her little boy? Hw looked so unhappy but there was nothing that I could do about it. I didn’t even get the chance to tell her what I thought about her.” “But Mum, you said that it made you angry seeing that boy Peter dressed like a girl but I’m wearing frilly knickers and a petticoat now, so what’s the difference?” “The difference is that you don’t seem to be embarrassed or humiliated. If you had shown the slightest concern I would have made you go and change immediately. Also you have the good fortune to be able to be mistaken for a girl and as you don’t seem to mind wearing a skirt too much you might as well enjoy the experience. It won’t be much longer before your body starts to develop then you won’t be able to get away with it so it’s now or never. Now enough of all this let’s enjoy the evening sunshine.”  With all this running through my mind I decided to wander down the garden and once there I went through a gap in the hedge into Mr. Henry’s orchard. Mr. Henry was a local farmer and we met him soon after we moved in. When Mum mentioned the gap in the hedge leading to his orchard he assured her that we were more than welcome to go in at any time. We could even help ourselves to some apples when they were ripe. I went over to a wooden swing that was attached to a stout branch by two ropes. I sat on the swing, taking care not to get my girlish frills dirty and gently swung to and fro lost in a myriad of confusing thoughts and emotions. Mum was right, the clothes that I was wearing felt nice and if I was honest with myself I was quite enjoying wearing them. Suddenly a voice from behind me jolted me back to reality.

    “Good evening my dear, it’s such lovely weather isn’t it?” I turned around suddenly to see who was speaking, it was an elderly lady who was accompanied by a small boy a couple of years or so younger than me, probably her grandson, they were walking with a small brown dog. In turning so quickly lost my balance and I turned slowly upside down and landed softly on my head on the grass below. My legs however were still resting on the swing resulting in my little skirt riding up to me chest exposing my luxuriously frilled knickers to the world in general. “Gracious, are you all right, I didn’t mean to startle you,” in my upside down view of the world I could see the lady rushing towards me. “Come along Gavin, give the young lady some help.” Gavin, getting more than an eyeful of my exposed underwear, untangled my legs from the swing and soon modesty was return to normal. “Are you sure you’re all right?” asked the lady again. “Quite sure thanks,” I said still blushing at the antics of my skirts, “the grass is very soft.” “Oh that is a relief, have you been playing tennis? That’s such a pretty tennis outfit you have on, you look quite delightful.” I thanked her for her compliments and after assuring her that there was no damage done that lady and her grandson resumed their walk. This episode made me even more confident that I could pull off my little netball deception. Even being exposed like that at such close quarters they didn’t even suspect that I was not a real little girl in a tennis outfit. Strangely that thought made me feel warm inside and I found myself hugging myself in a very girlish fashion. A few minutes later I began skipping back towards the house not even caring if I was showing off my frills. I kept thinking to myself, if I dress like a boy I look like a boy and if I dress like a girl I look like a girl. Somehow these thoughts made me feel wonderful. Mum was waiting for me when I skipped into the house and said that as I had been such a brave boy I could stay up an hour later than normal and watch TV. I think I took her by surprise when I ran up to her and hugged her and said, “thanks Mum,” and kissed her on the cheek. “Thanks for what pet?” she asked. “Oh, just thanks,” I replied and sat down to watch TV. Mum came and sat in the chair opposite and I could see her looking at me sitting among all my girlish frills and lace. “You can go and change out of those things if you want to,” she said. “Oh, I can’t be bothered, I’ll stay as I am.” She gave me a strange smile but said nothing more on the subject. The only thing I did was remove the tennis shoes and after a while I found myself with my legs tucked under me in a very girlish pose. If Mum noticed she didn’t say anything.

oldgrumpy oldgrumpy
51-55, M
Sep 10, 2012