By Sylvia Who?


As a boy, my favourite dream at night was of a film musical, with me on-stage as the man attired as a cute little girl, and dressed exactly in the same sissy clothes as my pretty female partner. But in reality I wanted to be more than just that, playing at being a showgirl. My true boyhood desire was to grow up to be a female ballerina, despite all the embarrassment and teasing I would receive, as well as the physical and mental difficulties of such a wish, but at least I would give it my best shot!

Author's note: This story was written in the 1980's, way before 'Billy Elliot' saw the light of day!

1.'Billy Liar'

"Bye bye Billy!" Melissa called cheerily as she closed the front door behind her and trotted down the path to join father in the car for her five mile trip to school. Meanwhile, I was staggering down the stairs still half asleep after my early morning foray into the garden while everyone else was still in bed. I could see mum out in the garden collecting the still damp washing off the line as I went into the kitchen to fix breakfast, but the sound of the letter box rattling as the mail dropped on the door mat had me scurrying to retreive the 'Gamba' package addressed to 'Miss Darcey Fielding' which I had been desperately waiting for all week. "Was that the postman Billy?" she called, so I promptly stuffed my prize down the front of my trousers. "Yes Mum, but it just looks like bills!" I handed her the mail and quietly enjoyed my little joke and was soon seated in the dining room watching the breakfast show and tucking into my usual plate of cereals washed down with the last of the milk as mother poked her head round the door.

"That clothes line thief has stolen another pair of Melissa's knickers!" - "That's her white knitted crossover, she keeps as a memento of her ballet days, a pink blouse, and a pair of her frilly white socks in less than a month!" She sighed with frustration. "I can't understand why it is always Melissa's things that are stolen, never anyone else's, apart from the young girl three doors along, so her mother tells me." - "There must be a pervert prowling about who gets kicks out of stealing little girls clothes." I responded as she looked at me in horror. "Where did you get such talk Billy, you shouldn't know about such things at your age! - I am disgusted with you!" - "Sorry Mum, but we hear all sorts of rude tales at school these days." - "Well, you shouldn't listen to such filthy talk, but walk away."

'Great!' I thought, 'My friends already think I'm sissy enough already without doing that!' But mother, having snorted her disapproval had gone off to get her breakfast. "Who has had all the milk? - did you use it Billy?"- she called out as I gulped down the remains in my glass, hoping she wouldn't notice. "No Mum, I think Melissa took it." I could hear her fuming away in the kitchen, and she came in and sat down wearily with a cup of coffee made with powdered milk and a toasted bagel.

"Are you going to ballet school tonight Billy?" So I told her I would also be going on to the library afterwards, and I would be back indoors at seven, just before dusk. "But you always seem to go there on the way back, but never seem to get any books - you don't have a schoolboy crush on the young librarian with the pretty blonde hair, do you Billy?" - "No of course not!" I stammered, as my mind pictured the dishy Miss in question, (with me in attendance in my school uniform, the one I always dream about, and reading all the articles on my specialised subjects, namely ballet - and the ther one which I would rather not mention right now!) - but I used my feigned embarrassment as an excuse to quit the room and go upstairs to examine the contents of my package, tucked uncomfortably down the front of my trousers.

"Yes-yes-yes!" I shouted with glee as my feverish hands tore away the wrappings to reveal my first pair of ballet 'pointes', purchased secretly by mail order with money purloined from mother's purse. They were beautiful hand made creations, in white satin, with the maker's name impressed into the leather sole of each shoe, and as mum called from downstairs for me to hurry off to school, I hid them in my hidey hole with all my other treasures.

I then dashed off down the stairs and grabbed my schoolbag from the sideboard, but in my haste knocked a cut glass fruit bowl to the floor where it smashed to smithereens, and as Fred our cat fled off in terror, mum rushed into the room to view the damage.Naturally I blamed the cat for the incident as I pecked good old mum on the cheek and set out for Kings and Queens School, cock-a-hoop at how easily I could fool my elders and evade responsibility for my misdemeanours, and as I sauntered slowly towards school I recalled the recent pattern of events which had culminated in me acquiring my very own ballet blocks.

Melissa, my 14 year old sister was about two years my senior, and had been attending ballet classes at Madame Olga's since she was seven, but had suddenly packed it in early last month, probably since she had developed an intense interest in swimming, thanks to Dad having an indoor pool recently built onto the house. I was bitterly disappointed by her decision, because even though I didn't go to ballet lessons myself in case my friends thought I was a sissy, my sister had unwittingly passed on to me all the ballet skills and nuances that she had learn't over the the years during her frequent practices in our games room at home with me always on hand as a casual observer, and on occasion even joining in with her as and when invited.

Melissa had accumulated a sizeable selection of ballet videos which I could view to my heart's content, but also included 'Little Rascals' one which had long been one of my favourites, and I never failed to attend the term end concerts and the visits of touring ballet companies in nearby Henley, our local town. But unbeknown to everybody else in the family, I was diligently practising on my own account in the disused sun-house in the small orchard at the bottom of the garden, where I had pressed into service an old wooden clothes horse as a makeshift 'barre', thanks to which I was as accomplished a fourth grader as my sister was! But as time passed by, I wasn't just happy dancing like her, I also wanted to be like her when dancing, so out of sight of prying eyes I was left to play the part, almost to my complete satisfaction over the past two years.

2.An 'unselfish act'!

Melissa had a hell of a row with mum when she told her what she really thought of ballet dancing, and she never, ever wanted to see another pair of ballet pumps as long as she lived, and furthermore she had dumped all her ballet shoes in a skip at the end of the road the week before. - "And if you want a ballerina in the family - Billy can be it!" Mum was beside herself with grief and disappointment in view of the future, real or imagined, that she had mapped out for her only daughter, but dad just called mum a 'control freak' and to let Melissa go and enjoy her spare time in any way she thought fit - as long as pushy boy-friends or drugs weren't involved!

But mum wasn't the only one upset, so in a gallant gesture I selflessly offered myself up as the sacrificial lamb on the altar of mother's driving ambition by going along with Melissa's suggestion and taking her place in the ballet class! "That is very noble of you, Billy, but you don't know anything about ballet." Was mother's reply, but my father just doubled up with hysterics at my idiotic remark. "Oh yes he does, he is quite accomplished, I have seen him." Melissa's intervention couldn't prevent me from reacting to Dad's mocking laughter as it pursued me up the stairs to bed, not even waiting for him to react to her reply as I ran off to my room to weep the rest of the evening away, but I could hear my parents still arguing over my suggestion after they went to bed. "Look here Laura, I don't want my son taking sissy ballet lessons - he has never done any, and I don't want him starting now! - we already have one sissy in the family and in any case, he is too old to take it up, and he can't be very fit - as it is he doesn't do any sports if he can possibly avoid it!"

But mum was now taking cudgels up on my behalf. "Now listen Harry, - boys are advised not to attempt ballet exercises until much older than girls, so why shouldn't he? - at least he can try if what Melissa says is true - You said Melissa could spend her spare time pleasing herself what she did - within reason that is - so why not Billy?" - Dad then piped up - "That boy knows exactly how to twist you round his little finger - he isn't interested in ballet, this is no unselfish act, he just wants to become more of a mummy's pet than he already is! - and I don't trust him - he's a liar! Billy is only doing a bit of arse crawling on his own account thats all!" I don't know what mum hit him with, but dad let out quite a howl before slinking off to sleep in the spare bedroom!

Mum obviously won the day as usual, for the following Saturday afternoon, after the the other pupils had gone home from their lessons, I was duly presented by mother to Madame Olga for an impromptu 'audition'. So with Madame playing the piano and me wearing one of Melissa's swim suits and a discarded pair of her ballet slippers which I had mysteriously resurrected, I was ready to perform. I didn't want to give too much away, so I played along with the barre work, and some basic floor exercises, and I could tell that Madame was impressed at how polished my performance had been, so naturally mum was ectastic when I was accepted in Melissa's place. "It's a great pity Melissa gave up her efforts to become a ballerina Mrs. Fielding but hopefully, young Billy will fit into her shoes instead!" Then Madame asked me discreetly, "Where did you do your 'moonlighting' Master Fielding? - you have a natural feminine grace." The gravity of Madame's remark may have escaped mother, but it certainly wasn't wasted on me, and I gave a big 'hooray' to that!

Having been supplied with the necessary male ballet gear by mum, I was soon engrossed in my twice weekly lessons. It was barely a week before my classmates in Form 3b were aware of my new hobby, thanks to Rod Carter's sister, so I had to put up with some cruel ribbing which involved some fisticuffs, and although I received a black eye, I gave as good as I got to my two assailants, so thankfully, just name calling and ridiculing from some of the boys became the order of the day after that, but Tom and James, my best friends still stood by me. A low wolf whistle brought me back to reality as I arrived at the school gates and since I was late dashed off to join my class.

During my lessons I kept on thinking about my newly acquired treasures waiting for me at home, a pair of Melissa's flowery knickers and my very own ballet blocks! So despite the snow-laden skies, I stopped on the way to purchase four yards of inch wide white satin ribbon and some white cotton, again courtesy of mum, and was soon back home engaged in the laborious task of re-inforcing the toes of my blocks with cross-stitching, and sewing on the four satin ribbons. It was hard to believe as I recalled three weeks ago the private confrontation I had with Madame when I asked her if I could wear ballet blocks and do some 'pointe' work with the girls. She looked me up and down sharply. -"You should know by now Billy, that boys aren't built the way girls are, so it is out of the question! It's hard enough getting enough boys interested in ballet as it is, so you can't all be girls, and furthermore, you want to run when you can barely walk!" Despite my tearful pleadings, she was adamant, refusing to be moved on the issue, and that was the reason I had set an agenda all of my own.

So wearing just a pair of ballet pumps, and suffering considerable pain and discomfort, I had secretly practised my pointe work, so my blocks would now make the task to emulate my sister that much easier! It took quite some time to complete the sewing job, so I had to undress and hurriedly change into my practice gear in order not to be late for my lesson, grabbing my ballet bag on the way out and stuffing my ballet blocks into my coat pocket for the twenty minute walk to ballet school, giving Mrs. Kelly, that nosey neighbour of ours a cheeky grin as I passed.

3.'Caught Out!'

During the lesson I was congratulated by Madame upon my barre work, but on hearing this, Diana, who was Madame's daughter, who was working next to me at barre, made her feelings clear as she looked down to give me a withering look before storming out of the lesson all of a tizz - but then she was even more of a 'madam' than her mother, so that was no great surprise. She certainly didn't have any time whatsoever for us boys, and always adopted a snooty, superior 'holier than thou' attitude in our presence. After we were dismissed, I dived off well ahead of the other boys and girls, grabbed my bag and coat from it's hook in the boys' tiny changing room, and dashed off down the corridor to the back of the building and unobserved, in through the door of the properties store, where I quickly concealed myself in my usual hiding place - a huge wicker skip in the corner of the room, climbing in amongst a mass of brightly coloured, elaborately decorated ballet tutus, before closing the lid behind me as I sniggered at the thought that the girls properties box sometimes didn't only contain ballet tutus! - and recalled the occasion when I first hid in there - purely with the intention of doing a 'Bill in the Box'- and jumping up and scaring the pants off the girls, which worked quite well - but much to Madame's disgust, - and so the seeds of an idea were sown. It was always very difficult not to laugh or sneeze with the stiffened nets constantly tickling my arms and legs, but principally my nose, as I managed to suppress a sneeze when I heard someone enter the room to check that it was empty, and moments later hearing the key turn in the front door behind them.

I scrambled out of my hiding place and went over to the second-hand properties box and selected a practice outfit. Then with frantic speed I stripped off my white singlet, black pumps, white socks and black ballet tights, and finally my white pants, and after taking Melissa's knickers from out of my bag and putting them on, arrayed myself in a pair of pink tights, blue practice dress with a tiny multi-layered net tutu skirt, and Melissa's white knitted cross-over which I tied in a bow at the back, before sitting on the floor to try on my brand new satin ballet blocks - sheer heaven!

I removed the polythene bag from a long blonde wig resting on a wig-stand on the shelf, and placing it on my head combed out the tangles with a tail comb, tying my hair back with a blue alice band, and I was finally ready for my 'grande entrance' - instead of which I just scurried down the corridor like a frightened rabbit, revelling at how daring I was venturing further into unknown territory, halting briefly to wipe my blocks in the rosin box, then onwards into the practice studio, my heart pumping away with fear and pleasure in equal measure. 'Yes, she was there again', reflected in the vast expanse of mirrored glass, the delightful creature that filled my dreams, as she made her way gracefully over to the practice barre to repeat her warm-up exercises before trying out her new 'pointes'. But soon she was practising at centre: developes to arabesques, sissonnes, pirouettes, even disastrous grande jetes, but it is so much more enjoyable and comfortable on blocks than when wearing satinised linen pumps, and the prima Ballerina's smile of satisfaction on her face in the mirror confirmed as much! I was halfway through a port-de-bras as reflected in the mirror, when suddenly I saw the door open behind me, and in walked Diana! I turned to face her as she slowly paced the room - a broad smirk on that snooty face of hers as I stammered - "I thought everyone had gone home Diana?" But she ignored my irrelevant remark - "You are the new girl here I believe?" she drooled - "Mummy will just love to have such a talented ballerina in her ballet school, and such a pretty one as well, and that's a real bonus!" At that moment I caught sight of myself once again in the mirror, but she was no longer confident and poised, sitting atop her ivory tower, she was now just another little girl trying to pretend to be something she's not, nervously fingering the hems of her dress, worried uncertainty etched in her face, openly taunted by her worst enemy. "I just love your ballet dress dear, where did you get it?"

But the 'frog-princess' couldn't even raise a croak, standing there waiting for the next assault on my sensibilities. "I just loved your pas-de-bouree-pique, it was so elegant I could hug you to death!" She was now sauntering round and round me as I stood flat-footedly fixed to the spot. Diana's face a picture of triumph over adversity! - "We have a boy called Billy in the school who thinks he can practise 'en pointes', but he can't and he never will!" - "Umm, but Diana, I am Billy - and I can do it - you just saw me do it!" I stammered weakly. "But you can't be Billy, Billy went home ages ago, I saw him myself! - and HE certainly wasn't dressed in a girl's regulation practice outfit the way you are." She giggled slightly and then held out my coat which she had carried into the room as she continued - "But Billy seems to have forgotten his coat when he left, so you may as well borrow it!" - I then stamped my foot in frustration, - "But I am Billy as you fucking well know!" "Tut-tut little girl - such language! Aunty Diana will have to put you over her knee and smack your cute little botty!"

She really had me on the ropes now as tiny teardrops began to form, and run down my scarlet cheeks. "There there, don't cry pet, I will let you borrow my old furry lined coat instead of Billys, since its started to snow outside, and sensitive little girls don't like to wear boy's things." With the tears welling up inside me I decided the best form of defence would be a tactical retreat. "Gulp! well Diana, I'm ready to leave now, but first I must go and change." I dashed out of the studio, and down the corridor to the props room, but horror of horrors, Diana must have locked the door with my other clothes still inside the room, and although I tried to force the door open with my shoulder, it wouldn't give, and as I turned round I found Diana standing behind me. "Yes, we will have to leave now - Wendy, if you don't mind me calling you that! - I have to lock up!" - "I do mind!" I snarled - "My name is Darcey when I'm dressed like this!"- My face went ashen at my niave admission, which pleased Diana no end - "But I can't go home dressed like this." - I wailed. - "Well all the other girls do, so why should you be so different and object, so now 'Darcey', why don't you 'Bussell' off home!" - "For a start I'm not a girl, as you well know, and I want my proper clothes back!" - "Really?" - she said - "from where I am standing you look like a girl, you dress like a girl, you talk like a girl, you dance like a girl and you cry like a girl, so don't be so bashful, Wendy, just put my furry coat on and we can trot off home, there's a good girl!"

"I won't!" I blazed,- stamped my foot in anger, and pulled my blonde wig from off my head. "You can go to hell! I want my clothes back!" My cheek stung as Diana slapped me hard across the face, as she replaced my wig on my head and retorted - "Do as you are told or else!" With the tears streaming down my face I took her royal blue coat with its white furry hood but before I could find the armholesas as I slid it round my shoulders , Diana had zipped it up at the front trapping my arms by my sides before bending down and sliding a pair of woolly leg warmers over my exposed legs. "There Wendy, that wasn't too bad, was it?" She stood up and taking me firmly by the arm, escorted me down the corridor and out into the half-light of the street, locking the door behind us. There was no escape for me now - I was comitted to an embarrassing confrontation with either Mum or Dad - unless I could figure a way of getting to my room unobserved, having first dumped my escort, a plan which fell apart as she declared.

"I will make sure you get home safely Wendy." - so with Diana leading me down the freezing, bustling streets I was constantly aware of the powder blue tutu poking provocatively from beneath Diana's bumfreezer of a coat, my hands and arms were firmly trapped inside which, in view of the terrible weather, startled several astounded passers-by as I waddled flat-footedly alongside her in the thin coating of snow, still wearing my lovely ballet pointes - which I hoped and prayed wouldn't be ruined by the damp.

As we neared home I stopped and faced Diana, my teeth chattering in the cold- "I-I-I think I can make it from here - it's snowing quite hard Diana and it is further out of your way." But she wasn't going to take the bait - "No young lady - I must make sure you don't try to sneak in the back way!" and so I continued to plod my way towards home in the safe custody of Diana, who was so much taller and could easily outpace me if I tried to run away. The lights were on in the house, and the car was in the driveway - so everyone was home including my sister, as Diana strode purposefully with me in tow up the steep steps to the front door, rang the bell, and pushed a plastic shopping bag she was carrying into the frozen fingers of one of my trapped hands.

"There you are - Doll - home safe and sound" she whispered in my ear before she beat a hasty retreat down the road as Mother opened the front door and I squeezed past her in the half light - "Sorry Mum, I forgot my key," - and I made a bee-line for the stairs."Billy! - Come back here at once!" She commanded. I stopped in mid-flight, turned and padded back towards her wishing the ground would open and swallow me up, but no such luck as Melissa appeared in the kitchen door. "WOW! I love the get-up Billy, - Dad will be most impressed!"

Mother scowled - "That's enough from you Melissa, - now Sonny Jim, - come in the kitchen, we want a word with you! - and where on earth did you get that furry coat and what on earth are you wearing underneath?" - she continued, gesturing at Diana's coat and it's white furry hood framing my bright red face - "Now get it off!" she commanded. - "But I am cold Mummy" was my snivelling reply - "But where is your coat, Billy? snapped mother, - "and where are your ballet pumps?" said Melissa as she looked down at my white satin blocks,and her eyes opened even wider at the sight of my pink ballet tights and the short flimsy powder blue tutu peeping from beneath Diana's short coat."Get that coat off now!" barked Mum as the tears began to stream down my cheeks."But I can't, my arms are trapped inside!" Melissa could now see the predicament I was in, so she obligingly unhooked the zip fastener as the garment slid from my shoulders, to reveal her white crossover and the rest of my practice outfit in all it's glory! Mum then grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and amidst amused smiles from Melissa I was frogmarched into the lounge where Dad was reading the evening paper."Here he is Father, he is all yours!" Dad looked up from the paper at the sound of Mother's voice and a look of disbelief spread over his face. "What the devil are you wearing a girl's wig for Son?" He threw down the paper, jumped up but when he caught sight of my powder blue tutu, he staggered back into his chair in shock! - "What are you doing in that, Billy - it's a girls outfit - I always said you would end up as a pansy!" - "Going to ballet lessons indeed!" yelled dad, "That's only for sissies and girls as I have always warned - I can't bear to look at you." and then turned his back in disgust- "And where is your ballet kit?" asked mother as in between sobs I tried to explain.

"Umm. - we had fancy dress at ballet class today, with all the boys having to dress up as girls, and I left my gear behind because we didn't have time to change back."My off-the-cuff reply was hardly convincing and fooled nobody as mother took the carrier bag I was holding and looked inside, - "Well dad, here is his coat and ballet gear in this bag." I tried to collect my thoughts - "But I was forced to wear these clothes!" I wailed, feeling hopelessly trapped in my alter-ego.

"But surely Billy, the girls didn't do that to you, and in any case, why didn't you change before you came home? - After all, your ballet lesson finished over an hour ago, unless of course you floated into the library dressed like that! - I am sure your young librarian friend would have been most impressed!" But even I could tell my parents were neither laughing or joking, I had taken the bait and was in dead trouble, and they no longer had amused smiles on their faces as they reeled me in!

"Have you ever stolen anything Billy?" - "No Mum, of course not!" I spluttered, feeling hotter by the minute. "Do you tell porkies then Billy?" - "No! never!" I answered defiantly. "Perhaps Mrs. Kelly next door tells lies then?" - "How do you mean Mum?" - "Mrs. Kelly said she saw you take Melissa's white ballet jumper and her knickers from the line this morning, is that true?" - "No of course not Mum, why should I do such a thing!" Mum's eyes gleamed with triumph - "Perhaps then young man, you would kindly explain why you are wearing her crossover right now!" - "This isn't her jumper Mum, it's somebody else's."


Meanwhile, Melissa, standing behind me had turned back the neck of the garment - "Here it is Mummy, my name tag!" - Touche! - my sins had found me out! "You have been telling us a pack of lies Billy, and we cannot trust you any more, you are a thief and a liar!" This revelation had dad once again on the offensive as rose from his chair, strode across the room towards me and bawled - "You little fairy, go to your room this minute and get yourself to bed - there's no food for you tonight, and take THAT with you!" and he landed me a wallop which sent me reeling. I burst into tears and rushed from the lounge, up to my room and threw myself on the bed crying unmercifully.

Mother and Melissa came upstairs ten minutes later and despite still being angry, sat alongside me on the bed as they tried to comfort me as best they could, and after I had calmed down mother began to rationalise the situation. "Father is furious with you for stealing, which is a phase you boys tend to go through, but he is more upset by your lying - why didn't you tell the truth Billy?" - "I-I-I- tried to Mum, but it seemed such an easy way out." I spluttered between gulps. "also you have been down my handbag and stealing money, and although father doesn't know, it makes me equally as mad!" - "I am sorry Mum, but I was desperate to buy my first blocks."

"But little boys don't normally wear blocks Billy?" was Melissa's comment as mother re-inforced her argument by gently patting me on the butt, - "they are only for us girls." "But I like wearing them - I love to rise up and try to defy gravity." - "A creature defying gravity, - that's an apt phrase in your case son!" I could see dad standing in the doorway, reflected in my dressing table mirror as he contemplated the feminine looking creature arrayed in the flimsiest of attire in shades of pinks and blues, her feet encased in the daintiest of footwear, her ankles trapped in delicate bonds of white satin ribbon, lying prone on her tummy across the bed, her features obscured by the golden tresses of her blonde wig as he tried to come to terms with the fact I was just a bit 'odd' - or at least he was trying to create some sort of truth out of my home grown fantasy, while mother suddenly re-appeared from my dressing room.

"We also found a strange assortment of female attire in the back of your closet, some of which is your sisters, but goodness knows where the other has come from! - but your father has already been on the phone to Madame Olga to query how you came by this!" She was holding up a plastic bag containing my most precious acquisition, one of the tutus out of the properties box back at the ballet studio, and she went into the gory details of how I had been caught out by their daughter. "You don't have to say anything now son, since you will be going along to explain yourself to Madame in person tomorrow morning. My parents then decided to leave me to my own devices, while Melissa stayed behind to keep me company, and do some more digging on her own account.

"You look really sweet in that outfit Billy, - no wonder you wanted to go to ballet lessons in my place, you are an absolute 'doll'!" Following my sister's comment, I rolled over and sat up on the bed. "Do you really mean it 'sis'?" I blurted out without really thinking as she squatted on the bed alongside me. "I would loved to have had a little sister to play with when I was younger, so perhaps I will get my wish after all." - "But I am only dressed like this so that I can practice the girls parts in my ballet lessons." - was my response.

"You might say that Billy!" - she continued kindly, but firmly, - "but why have you collected all those other 'girly' things in your closet? - After all you wouldn't wear a girl's nighty to ballet class, or a school-girl's blouse, or a St. Mary's pinafore dress, now would you?" (St. Mary's was the private girls school the other side of town, and our neighbour's daughter two doors along goes there) "And what about all those grown up ladies knickers and slips?" - "Umm. I found them in a skip" "Now Billy, enough of the lies, you have stolen them from clothes lines - Is it because you would like to be a little girl who grows into a big lady?" - "No - of course not!" I stammered as Melissa read the truth through all my lies.

Just then Mummy came in through the door with my supper tray. "Dad has relented, so you won't go hungry after all - and while you are eating, I can tell you about the phone conversation Dad has just had with Mr. Somers." - "Who is Mr. Somers?" - "Surely you know that Billy! He is Madame Olga's husband, and deputy headmaster of your school! and he feels your punishment should fit your crime, - father and I entirely agree." 'Boy, am I in trouble!' I thought as I munched away, 'old Somers can really give me grief, since he is responsible for discipline.' But mother just ploughed on - "Also Diana was very impressed by your dancing, and she thinks you will make a wonderful ballerina, - but that doesn't excuse your behaviour, and her mother feels you should be punished!"- I began to wriggle uncomfortably, and promptly choked on a mouthful of food, spreading it liberally over my borrowed plumes, as the meaning of her statement slowly sank in. Yes, Somers was a great one for novel forms of punishing pupils, and what was to be tried on me, had been tried successfully many times before! While mum and Melissa pulled faces, I put my tray on one side, jumped off the bed, and pattered out to my en suite to try to clear up the mess I was in - although curry was never my favourite food!

Sure enough, that one phone-call had sealed my fate, and mum informed me it had been decided I was to attend school next week in Melissa's old school uniform, and furthermore, I would be transferred to Form 3g, the girls class, and as a foretaste I would spend the whole of the coming weekend getting acclimatised to wearing some of Melissa's dresses, even for my confrontation with Madame in the morning in order to return her stolen ballet dress! When I returned to the bedroom, dressed just in Melissa's knickers, I found that mum had laid the pink cotton nightdress that I had pinched from Amanda, one of my my cousins across my bed.

"Well Wendy, seeing you will be dolled up for all of next week at least, I think you may as well start right now, don't you agree young lady!" There was an evil smirk on Melissa's face as mother referred to me in the feminine gender and she laughed uproariously when told who gave me my adopted name of Wendy, as she picked my nighty from off the bed, and held it up for me to slip into. "Come over here Wendy, and I will put it on for you dear!" and I meekly trotted over from the door to allow her a moment of glory as she lowered the garment carefully over my head and fussily arranged the frilled neckline to sit properly upon my bare shoulders. "We don't want to disturb those golden tresses, do we darling?" she went on as I realised I was still wearing my fluffy wig, but my hand was promptly slapped out of the way when I went to remove it. "Leave it where it is Wendy, or we might superglue it in place!"

Such a threat soon had me doing as I was told, and without a moments hesitation I jumped into bed and had the duvet tucked all round me. "Now there's a good girl, best get some beauty sleep, goodnight sweetheart, sweet dreams!" They both kissed me on the cheek and putting my light out left the room in darkness as I heard them quietly sniggering together while they walked off down the corridor. "She won't be getting back into her boy's clothes for a long time if I can help it!" - was Melissa's parting shot as they retreated down the stairs leaving me to ruminate over an uncertain future, thanks to nosey Diana and her meddling, - everything was going swimmingly until tonight, now my pre-occupation with things feminine was general knowledge, and was I going to be humiliated for it!

Yes, some of the deputy heads ideas on discipline were quite novel in a school where boys and girls were segregated into seperate classes, the 'Kings' and the 'Queens'. Children caught smoking on school premises spent a week sitting in class with babies dummies stuck in their mouths; both boy and girl bullies were made to attend school wearing flourescent pink terrorists style headgear emblazoned with their names; truants wore a dog collar and chain and were always accompanied by a minder to make sure they didn't lose their way on school premises. All in all - such methods could prove effective, - but not always!

I had heard of a number of boys in the past being subjected to a dose of 'petticoat punishment' for a morning or all day, perhaps for bullying, stealing from, or flipping girls dresses - or even worse, and then being made to come to school dressed in schoolgirl's uniforms, being given girl's names, and as 'Queens' having to attend girls' classes thus dressed, and it was rumoured that in some instances they became fully integrated into what was mean't to be a temporary role! - In fact, human rights lawyers would have a field day with some of the ideas tried out by Mr. Somers!

During the night I was once again revisited by one of my favourite dreams of an old musical film I once saw on the telly when I was about six including a song and dance routine but with me as the fortunate boy partnering the pretty girl with the two of us dressed in extremely sissyish satin and net party dresses decorated with posies of flowers, wearing long blonde curly wigs with enormous satin bows, and on our dainty feet short white socks and pretty mary jane shoes, and armed with quaint satin lined flower baskets as we tap-danced round the stage and happily embraced at the end.

5.'An eventful morning!'

"Wakey-wakey-Wendy!" It was the following morning and a lovely warm Saturday as Mummy accompanied by Melissa, bustled into my room. "To save your blushes in front of dad, we have brought you breakfast in bed." I was still half asleep but I sat up as Mummy placed the tray in my lap and she then disappeared into the bathroom to run my bath."I have laid out the clothes you are to wear for the rest of the day on your dressing room chair, thankfully all the snow has cleared so you can wear a pretty sunny dress in keeping with the weather." As I glanced down at the golden tresses tickling my bare shoulders, and cascading over the lacy top of the nighty I was wearing, panic suddenly set in. "But Mummy, you don't really expect me to dress up as a girl all over the weekend, do you?" She emerged from the closet with my lovely tutu as she smiled wistfully at Melissa, - "I always imagined having two daughters around the house, - It looks as though my dream is about to come true, all-be-it but briefly."

Melissa was already dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve white blouse, so while I washed my teeth she scooted off downstairs with my tray while mother stayed behind to help me get dressed in Melissa's freshly laundered dress now laid across a chair in my dressing-room. "Take your nighty off Wendy, and slip into these." I did as I was told and now stood in a pair of Melissa's white flowered cotton panties, the sort that me and my friends would deliberately attempt to ogle by following the girls up the staircase into school, craning our necks to peep up their skirts at the treasures beyond the pale, - but I certainly wouldn't be doing such a thing now that I would be wearing them!

"The trouble with girls dresses is when the fabric loses it's crispness, you need to wear a starched cotton slip to give your dress some body - so hold your arms up for me now, precious." She held the garment above me and slowly lowered it down over my head and arms, as the stiffened skirt fluttered down and the white lacy hem came to rest just above my knees as she then arranged the elasticated waistband comfortably round my tummy, though I found the frilly layers around the hem were a bit off-putting. "Do all girls have to go through all this fuss?" I enquired - "Best ask your sister that young lady! - She is older than you, and is growing rapidly, so she has to contend with much, much, more." - but innocent little me didn't understand what she was talking about!

"Sit on the bed Wendy, and you can put on your shoes and socks." I looked in dismay at the short, white lacy socks I was expected to wear. "But why can't I wear tights the same as Melissa does?" - groaning with disappointment. "Do any of the girls of your age wear tights to school?" - "No Mummy!" I replied, biting my lip. "Well girl, that's your answer!" So I had to settle for the frilly topped white socks and dinky black dolly shoes - what Melissa described as her 'Shirley Temple' look - hence my objections!

I looked over at the dress lying across the chair, a short blue cotton dress with elbow length sleeves, a peter pan collar and a ruched bodice. - So I didn't need any encouragement from mummy to try the dress on for myself, permitting her to button it up at the back, before I turned towards the mirror for a preview, while she went to work with her make-up bag.

Five mintes later I was still dreamily staring in the mirror having just had my first 'face job' when the door swung open. "Is she ready yet?" Mummy was working on my curly locks with a tail comb and tied my hair in two bunches with blue satin ribbons as Melissa dashed into the room and gasped with delight as she eyed up her new playmate. "She looks pretty as a picture - she is scrumptious - I could eat her all up!" - "No you don't girl, I spent too much time getting my new princess ready for her first outing for you to spoil things for her now, and anyway, we are late!"

The next moment I had the plastic bag containing my tutu thrust into my hand before being propelled out of my bedroom, along the corridor to the top of the stairs, where I hesitated, suddenly aware of my father, ogling up at my bare legs and goodness knows what else from the downstairs hall, witnessing my total humiliation and subjugation, my legs turning to jelly as the realisation dawned of how vulnerable I had become in my assumed role as a little, innocent girl called Wendy, and what I was letting myself in for!

The second hurdle would be a quick dash out to the car in full view of all the neighbours, then a three minute drive through town to Madame Olgas, running the gauntlet of the senior boys and girls at ballet class, to face up to the nauseating experience of explaining away how a gorgeous tutu boasting a satin ribbed basque decorated with sequins and rhinestones, and multiple layers of net skirts with matching satin and lace panties came to be in my possesion, and for what purpose? I made a desperate grab for the hand rail as my legs buckled under me, my tutu slipping from my grasp and gathering speed as it tumbled down the stairs into Daddy's arms as his features registered shock horror as he anticipated me taking the same route, and he being so far out of reach, so unable to help.

Fortunately I regained my balance, and so with legs a-trembling, and gripping the hand-rail for all I was worth, I clip-clopped unsteadily down the stairs, and into the the outstretched arms of my father for a most unexpected cuddle. - "I thought you were a goner then Bill --,Wendy!" as we all let out a joint sigh of relief. Daddy's generous hug restored my self-confidence, as he looked down at me and holding me at arms length. "Ahem!" he coughed - "You look very nice - in that dress - ahem! - Wendy dear." I lowered my eyelashes to my scarlet cheeks. "Umm!- thank you Daddy!" I replied smiling at his unveiled compliment which surprised us all! - "Thanks for that Dad!" said Mummy as she kissed him on the cheek. "Race you out to the car." called Melissa happily. "No more rushing around today for this young lady!" reprimanded Mummy, so Melissa took me gently by the hand as father opened the front door for us and we skipped daintily down the steps towards the car, only to be brought to an abrupt halt by three of my best friends! "Is Billy indoors, Melissa?" asked Tom as my confidence took another tumble! But while the boys were talking to my sister I went to slip quietly past them down the steps and out into the car. "I didn't see him indoors, do you know where Billy has gone, Wendy?" My backward glance of reproach at my sister allowed the three boys to read the guilty expression on my face as recognition dawned and James demanded - "Hey Billy, why are you going out dressed as a girl?" Meanwhile, Mummy had appeared on the scene to twist the knife even further.

"He is being punished by Mr. Somers, so that is the reason he is dressed as a girl, isn't that right Billy?" I nodded my head unhappily. John grinned impishly. "In that case you must be in real trouble with old Somers, that must mean you are grounded all next week and in with the girls - Wendy is it?" The three chuckled uproariously at my discomforture. "It shouldn't be that bad for you Wendy, after all the piss-taking you get at school for being a ballet-boy."

"And whats the frilly thing in the bag, Billy?" Tom had spotted the ballet tutu I was carrying, so mother kindly explained!- "It's a ballerina's dress, Tom, Billy stole it from ballet school to wear at home, so he is on his way to take it back to Mrs. Somers in the car." 'I don't believe I am hearing this,' I thought to myself, as my friends looked me up and down just once more - just to be sure! "We are taking this box to my uncles before going over to the common to climb the old oak so perhaps you can come along later." said James "Not dressed like THAT she won't!" laughed Tom, but Mummy intervened as she took my tutu and before Tom could protest shoved it in his arms "You may as well make yourself useful Tom, you can carry Wendy's tutu out to the car for her" - "Err yes, Mrs. Fielding." was all the shocked and dismayed boy could say as the other two sniggered quietly in the background as we continued down the steps and out to the car before allowing the boys to scamper off and spread the word amongst my friends.

Our arrival at Madame Olga's was greeted by Diana as she dashed over to the car, surprisingly with a broad smile of welcome on her face as she excitedly opened my door. -"Hi Wendy! I am so pleased you came, - let me take that from you while you get out." She held my tutu as I climbed out of the car. "My-oh-my, I love the dress!" she continued warmly. "Umm, it's only one of my sister's cast-offs." an admission Melissa didn't approve of from the look on her face. "Well, it is a very nice dress, for a boy to wear that is - it really suits you, since you have such nice legs!" Diana took me by the hand, and led the way into the building, Mother and my sister tagging along behind as we trotted along the corridor past the dance studio, to tap-tap at the door of her mother's office, where Madame was already waiting.

"Come in my dears!" - her voice boomed from inside, and we entered. Surprise, surprise! so was old man Somers as he gave me the once over, and we were invited to sit down. "So you are Wendy, who our daughter has told us so much about?" I shuffled uncomfortably in my borrowed plumes under my tormentor's gaze, even though his quietly spoken comment was a kindly one. "Speak, girl, speak!" - prompted Madame. "Umm, - Yes Mrs. Somers!" I stammered, unsure who to address beneath Madame's icy gaze.

"I am pleased to see you are dressed as a young girl, and may I say so, a very convincing one at that! - and that your long suffering parents fully support the punishment being meted out to you for stealing - in fact, I believe that is some of my property you have there?" She eyed the white satin tutu which I had placed in the skirts of my lap as I coughed uneasily before finding my voice - "Yes Madame, I'm afraid it is." I meekly replied.

"I hope you realise Billy, that a costume like that is very expensive, even top ballet companies couldn't afford to lose such a dress, why did you steal it?" I fiddled with the plastic bag, as I recalled the pleasure wearing that dress had given me over the past fortnight when I wore it in the summerhouse. "Because I liked wearing it for my practice sessions in private at home, Madame Olga." as I blurted out my true feelings for once, as her eyes narrowed to slits. "So would all my female pupils, and even all the boys, if the truth be known, but only very special young ladies get to wear such a dress, and in any case, stealing is stealing!" she boomed. "I am very sorry Madame, but I only borrowed it, knowing I would never have the chance to wear such a beautiful ballet costume, not at ballet class, not on stage and certainly not as a boy!"

She stood up and paced up and down the office. "Well young man, thank you for being so candid, and in any case, you could be wrong, you could wear that dress - if you were a girl that is! - and for this reason I have asked you to come here today, since I have a proposal to put to you. I am pleased to see you are appropriately dressed for the role I have in mind, and that you have your ballet case with you." Her face had now softened somewhat as she continued. "My daughter Diana has told me how impressed she was with your unauthorised solo performance 'en pointes' last night, and your sister is to be congratulated for unwittingly training you so well." My sister looked pleased at the honorary mention from her former mentor as Madame Olga sniffed. "It's a great pity Melissa passed up the opportunity I will be giving you instead, Billy, - or perhaps I should say Miss Fielding?" Melissa's smile had now been replaced by a disapproving scowl as I waited to hear what fate had in store as Madame started her sales pitch.

"In three weeks time during the half-term holidays, our senior class and their parents will be making the bi-annual exchange trip to Madame Druon's ballet school near Paris, which will include a visit to the Palais de Madelaine, and the customary charity concert, featuring boys and girls from both ballet schools." She stopped pacing up and down and looked through the glass screen and into the studio where the senior class were being put through their paces by Miss Jones. "Unfortunately the Blake twins will be unable to join us on this occasion, since their family are moving back to the States early next week, so they will miss the Paris trip, and this places us in a quandry."

My heart skipped a beat as I guessed what was to come next, and Diana and I were named as possible replacements for the departing twins, and because the timescale was so short, we were to participate with the senior ballet class forthwith for an assessment! "Yes-yes-yes!" was my immediate reply to Madame's question as Diana excitedly took me by the hand and led me away towards the girls' locker room."But I can't go in there!" My voice quavered as I hesitated before being hauled over the threshold and ordered to strip and put on my practice tunic. "Don't be so shy Wendy,at the end of the day, you are one of us girls now - part of the team, so I should do as you are told if you want to take this chance and go to Paris, and Mummy said you could wear this - it will make you feel more the part." - and she handed me a beautiful orange tutu to wear. Despite my joy at wearing such a dress so soon, and my obvious discomfort, Diana giggled, and without further ado she began to get to get undressed right in front of me!

I was about to follow her lead when there was a clatter of platform shoes down the corridor and two of the senior girls rushed noisily into the room, gave me a cursory glance, and with a "Hi Diana - are we very late?" began to take their clothes off at break-neck speed. With her two soul mates now in the room, any thought of stripping off there and then was abandoned. "Come on Wendy, hurry up girl." Her pointed comment had Angela and Tracy eyeing me up and down, trying to put the face to a name, but it was only as Angela bent down to remove her panties and she glanced over as I stood with my tongue hanging out that the penny suddenly dropped! "I know you! - You are Billy, Melissa's younger brother!" Tracy's curiosity was now aroused and she too gave me the once over. "Yep,- it sure is,- but what are you dressed as a girl for, Billy?" With three naked girls now facing me I was in no mental state to reply, as I prepared to make a tactical retreat through the door."Billy is going to be Wendy from now on girls - she and I are taking the twins part for the Paris trip!" Angela winked and smiled a friendly smile. - "If I were you Wendy, I would suggest you had better strip double quick if you don't want Madame Ogre on your case!" Then the three girls giggled conspiratorily as they continued to get ready for the lesson. I just shrugged my shoulders impassively and slowly began to take off my dress, turning my back and begging a favour of my companions. "Please Angela would you undo my buttons at the back - only I can't reach." Angela stamped her foot in mock agitation, - Tut-tut! Typical girl! Always needing help with her dress! - Now you know why most girls wear these." She indicated her singlet top and jeans laying across the bench, reminding me that I was the only one in the room trapped in a dress, and totally dependant upon others for my salvation.

I eventually trotted out to join the ballet class wearing the lovely orange ballet tutu, and my ballet pointes firmly secured in place with white satin ribbons, feeling as if I could conquer the world! But with Mummy and Melissa looking on from the safety of the office, and Miss Jones now playing the piano, I suddenly lost my nerve, so my ballet lesson with the other fifteen girls and four boys was hardly a howling success as I tried to emulate the movements of the more experienced ballerinas around me, particularly Carlotta, since she was head and shoulders above the rest of us, her movements - so graceful, her musicianship - uncanny, her interpretation - faultless, she was truly a natural, but she was the ugliest girl in the ballet school - and I mean ugly! Eventually my enthusiasm was rewarded by being warned by Madame not to strain too much and possibly risk a hernia, which created a general chorus of laughter all round, and also set me thinking!

The lesson for me seemed over too quickly, as I joined the girls in curtseying a 'reverance', whilst the boys just bowed to Madame and Miss Jones before we all trotted flatfootedly back to the changing rooms. Absent-mindedly I followed the boys towards their pokey little locker room, but Kevin, who was behind me soon put me to rights. "You are in with the girls now Billy - Umm! - sorry! - Wendy! - so don't forget next time!" and the saucy devil patted me on the bottom as I turned to pitter patter off to join the girls, but I was most surprised that common knowledge of my transformation hadn't prompted a more negative reaction from my new classmates, as they seemed to readily accept me as just another girl in the corps de ballet! However, my most terrifying ordeal so far was about to take place, as I went in through the door and made my way across the room to my belongings, squeezing past young ladies in various stages of dress and undress, as they prepared to go out and face the world in their everyday clothes - except in my case I was condemned to a whole week clad in my punishment clothes, whether I liked it or not, and reflecting a feminine persona which up to now had been alien to me!

"Stop gawping Wendy and hurry up and get changed!" Diana brought me down to earth with a bump, so I tried to concentrate on removing my practice tunic prior to dressing in Melissa's street clothes and ignoring the array of bare breasts and buxiom bottoms all around me - but it wasn't so easy, especially when the two two less well-developed 'girls' talking quietly together on the bench next to me made me realise I wasn't entirely on my own, as I glanced down at their flaccid thingies nestling between their muscular thighs. I coughed discreetly trying to draw Diana's attention to my momentous discovery, but by the time realisation dawned, padded brassiers and lacy panties concealed their shortcomings, and made the two boys indistinguishable from all the other girls in the room!

"These two here are boys, just like me!" I whispered quietly in Diana's ear, and she smiled a cheeky smile in return. - "That's right Wendy, and they aren't the only ones either!" I was so shocked I stood transfixed, still holding my panties in my hands, and completely bare from the waist down, until Diana nudged me, "Better hide yours up too girl!" But in my haste to make myself decent, I lost my balance as one of my toes became caught in the crotch of my panties and I bumped unceremoniously into my neighbour, as he or she held out her arms to stop me falling to the ground. "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I gasped as I stepped back, a semi-tragic figure with one leg in and one leg out of my lacy knickers, and unsure what to do next. She and her companion smiled serenly, "Thats all right Wendy - at least you weren't cack-handed during our lesson - but perhaps you should at least finish the job as Diana suggested, and avoid red faces all round!" So with comical high speed I hid the incriminating evidence from my audience, who hadn't finished with me yet. "I believe you go to our school Wendy? - we are both in the same class - form 6g, - I am Jane Fleming, while the ugly girl here is Pauline!" Pauline grimmaced at her friend's joke as she sat on the bench, putting on her tights, before slipping on her trainers. "We heard on the grapevine that Mr. Somers has placed you in form 3g from next Monday onwards - so if you have any problems with girl bullies, and the such-like, please give me or Tarzan's Jane here a shout and we will fly over to sort things out!" Diana was now fully dressed in a crop top and jeans, while my two soul-sisters boasted blue and pink mini-skirts, matching ribbons in their hair and see through puffed sleeved blouses, their lacy bras clearly visible through the flimsy material, and I watched fascinated, as they expertly touched up their make-up, and clipped their earings in place, finally applying a dab of perfume here, here and oops! - there!

"Do you fancy a coffee in Oasis Mall Diana? - perhaps Wendy would like to join us too - seeing it's her first day as a girl and we can make it a double celebration." I didn't want to pass up the opportunity of spending some more time with my new found friends and quiz them about their past, present and future, and get some more mileage out of my drag-rags, so I dashed off to ask Mummy's permission. Mummy had arranged for Melissa to have a makeover and a manicure in the Mall by way of consolation for her missing the Paris trip, and since we were all heading in the same direction, Mummy had no objection to me having coffee with my friends. "We can meet under the clock at eleven thirty so that we can go and choose you both a new dress if you would like that.

Oasis Mall was just across the street, so we strolled over the road, trying to ignore the farmyard noises from some young studs just passing in an old Ford, and we were soon comfortably seated in 'Luigis', chatting away animatedly while sipping hot cappachinos, and casually observing the passing competition, and anyone else who took our fancy in the way that young girls do!

"Diana tells us you are joining her class on Monday?" - I shrugged my shoulders hopelessly. - "Umm, yes I'm afraid so, I am the latest victim of one of old Somer's whimsical jokes." - But Diana piped up - "I was the one that persuaded Daddy to put you in my class Wendy, and I am the one that will decide when you will get your trousers back - if ever!" Diana wasted little time in putting me straight on that score, much to the amusement of the two older 'girls'. "Enjoy your punishment while you may Wendy, not many boys get the chance to sample both sides of the coin the way we do!"

But I now asked Pauline 'why the two boys were attending school dressed as girls, taking their lessons with a class of girls, and living full-time as girls, while they were not subject to a punishment regime?' - "We just want to be girls, that's all Wendy - but it all started when we were ten, and a group of us were talking together during break about this girl called Evelyn who appeared on television and said she used to be a boy, so I asked John, who I was always at loggerheads with, if he would ever try out being a girl."- Jane then cut in - "Naturally I told Paul no way would I be caught out wearing girls clothes since I didn't want to be called a sissy, so he called me a cowardy custard instead.

We had a bit of a fight after that, and after we had been seperated and dusted ourselves down, I breathlessly responded that I didn't really mind being called a sissy, but I was never going to be called a coward by anyone, and if he would agree to dress as a girl for a while then I would - we would soon see who stuck it out longest and therefore who really was a coward!" "Everybody knows boys hate to be called cowards, so with our classmates as witnesses we both agreed to the challenge and shook hands on it without really realising what we were letting ourselves in for. We both had an older sister who had been to King and Queens School, so we both had the necessary cast-offs with which to conduct the challenge, and we both agreed to turn up at the school gates at nine o'clock precisely on the following Monday, and to enter school together, which in due course, we did."

"But what did your parents say about you trotting off to school in girl's clothes?" asked Diana as both girls grinned - "Oh, we went and changed in the disabled toilets on the way, and since lots of girls at the time were into crewcuts, we didn't look out of place, until we went to our class for the first lesson of the day. We were recognised immediately we entered the room as the class erupted in uproar - it scared us both to death the ribbing we were getting, and we found our skirts were being lifted in the air by the other boys, anxious to find out what we had on underneath, as their laughter renewed at finding we were both wearing the same sort of pink knickers all the other girls wear!" Diana looked thoughtful - "Yes! I remember Daddy coming home and telling Mummy about the two ten year olds who came to school in dresses - he was just beginning to try out his ideas on disciplining children - and you were his first unfortunate victims!"

"Yes Diana,we had both expected to be given a dressing down and sent home to change, but instead the master told us to report to Mr. Somers, who told us we were inappropriately dressed for our boys class inKings school, and therefore contravening the school dress code, so we found ourselves led off to join Miss Smythe's class in the Queens school, and by way of punishment, would remain there for an indefinite period, or until we saw the error of our ways, and he rang up to inform our parents accordingly, who backed his decision up to the hilt!"

Pauline took a sip of her coffee as Jane continued - "We were completely devastated by the position we now found ourselves in, - surrounded by a load of giggly ten year old girls, the only consolation being we were dressed exactly the same as they were from the skin out, so at least we didn't stand out from the rest- provided we didn't walk, talk, eat or perform our bodily functions in the way that we as boys would normally have done, but copied instead the way our classmates behaved, even to the extent of using the girls toilets, although to begin with we didn't sit down to pee!" Jane sighed, "So naturally, we did our utmost to conform and avoid being creatures of ridicule as we unconsciously aped our classmates, calling each other Pauline and Jane, and adopting more appropriate behaviour patterns for little girls of our age! The bags containing our change of boys clothes were confiscated by Mr. Somers, so we even had to trot off home after school dressed as girls and in our sorry state, face the wrath of our parents ." Pauline laughed ironically. "It didn't help that both our mothers were on the Kings and Queens School Board and fighting tooth and nail for the vacant position of Chairperson, since they couldn't stand the sight of each other, so when our mothers heard our joyful news, they each decided that no way were we to let our side down and cave in to peer pressure in order to return to the boys classroom, let the other boy be the one to give in!" Of course, we were both ordered to stick it out - which - despite our private doubts, - we did!" Jane pointed down at her stylish clothes - "In the early days, we would rush home to change into our boys gear, but we soon began to tire of that, until eventually, after comparing notes, we decided to continue wearing girls clothes all the time, while still complying with the wishes of our mothers, who even obliged by providing us with wardrobes of our own - so as not to be outdone 'by the other lot', which we found highly amusing seeing we were in cahoots all along and perfectly happy to maintain the status quo!"

"Our new classmates encouraged us to take part in their extra curricular activities, such as playing tennis and hockey in our spare time, and we were even being invited to lots of girl's birthday parties and since our outings with our boyhood friends seemed to have dried up, we were only too pleased to participate. So when I decided to join in your mother's ballet classes, not to be outdone, Pauline's mother insisted she did the same. And so for the past four years we have moved up through the school registers as Pauline and Jane, and as time passed we developed a firm friendship with the determination to conceal the real reason for us wishing to dress twenty four hours a day, enjoying our school days in the company of a class full of girls, but having to contend with the occasional put-down from bullies."

"Basically it was simply we both had developed the same compulsion, wishing to have sex-change operations and become two more Evelyns, and mutually deciding to approach our doctors on the subject, eventually being referred independently to specialists who suggested some extreme treatment with the onset of puberty, which more or less brings us right up to date!" - "But what did your Fathers have to say about your possible treatment?" asked Diana, and both girls laughingly replied,- "Both our mothers wear the trousers in our families, our Dads are just the doormats!" -

"But do you mean you can both change into girls, like Evelyn? how is it done?" I asked, intrigued. "Well actually Wendy, today is a special day for us. - We have just heard we have been accepted for hormone theraphy, or H.R.T. for short, and for S.R.S. in the longer term." I was a bit confused by their answer, so I asked them to go into further detail. "We would rather not tell you what will happen, you are too young, and it might upset you too much, and in any case, neither of us has decided yet to go ahead."

But with Diana clamouring for answers as well, Pauline continued with her explanations. "H.R.T. means we will be sticking small patches on our bottoms twice a week and taking some tablets which will make our breasts swell, just like other girls of our age, and as a result we will also develope other secondary female characteristics, even delaying the moment when our voices would break. If we are happy with the way our bodies are changing, we can then decide if we want to completely change into girls, or just remain as we are and develope normally. Diana was now studying our friends intently. "But when you were undressed you appeared to have two small bumps where boys don't normally have bumps - at least, not those sort!" Jane looked down at herself and giggled. "Oh! Observant girl! you noticed our budding breasts! Yes we have secretly been buying hormones on the internet for the past nine months, as you can see." They were proud as peacocks, or perhaps I should say pea-hens, filling their lungs with air to exagerate their rapidly developing assets even more!

"But how will you change sex?" I again asked, as Jane obliged. "We will go into hospital, and a surgeon will cut off parts of our balls and willies, and in their place will construct little holes, called vaginas, just like other girls have, which will be used for us to pee through, and also used to make our boy-friends happy." I suddenly felt quite queasy as the full extent of their self-sacrifice sunk in! "I'm feeling quite sick!" I murmured and made a bee-line for the 'mens', hesitating just outside the door, much to the amusement of the cleaner, before dashing off in the other direction to the 'ladies', where I took refuge on the toilet in one of the stalls, lowering my panties and trying to restore my shattered nerves as I trembled with fear and ached with longing!

There was another shock awaiting me as I returned to my friends in their window seat, for they had been joined by Tom and James."Hi Billy, sorry you couldn't come tree climbing with us, but probably you would have found it difficult in a skirt? - Your mother just told us where we could find you." I grinned a sickly grin at Tom's remark, and could only respond with a "Thanks very much Mum!" muttered under my breath as the two boys looked highly delighted at my subdued reply.

"Diana here tells us you are moving in with her in form 3g on Monday, lucky bugger, with all that 'spare' to yourself, pity though, you will have to behave just like they do if you want to stay in one piece - upset that lot and you might also end up with one or two vital bits missing!" Diana was not amused, and neither were Pauline and Jane at the way my friends had hi-jacked the conversation, but they were too polite to say anything. "Look here guys, for a start my name is Wendy, also my girl-friends don't like dirty talk, so you can fuck off right now!" "Ooh, get HER James, She's a regular Madam!" Tom simpered, placing one hand on his hip, and pointing his other limp hand in my direction, "Lets leave the new dolly-bird to her new friends." The two boys then sashayed out into the Mall, looking well pleased with themselves. Dianas remark as they left was understandable."I think James is quite dishy!" - "I prefer Tom myself," chimed in Pauline, "Theres no accounting for taste!" sniffed Jane, - "Both a wee bit too young though," and of course I had to agree to that! The remarks my former friends had made did concern me though, I would be spending my next six days both at home and at school, dressed entirely in the clothing of a twelve year old girl, intimately and completely immersed in the activities and at the mercy of, a highly charged bunch of pre-pubescent schoolgirls, it looked as though I would be paying a high price to become a boy ballerina!

Sunday night dragged by as I lay in bed, tossing and turning in my frilly nighty, weighing up the consequences of my recent activities, my eyes focussed on the all too familiar school-girls uniform draped over a chair in my dressing room, just visible in the half-light through the door, but one which I had never imagined wearing! In twelve hours time I would be half-way through the school day deprived for the foreseeable future of my clothes, my friends, and the boisterous activities I would normally be engaged in, delighting instead in a more sedate and controlled regime, finding pleasure in small talk, helping Mummy around the house, being nice to Melissa, avoiding my Dad, window shopping, the smell of pretty flowers, the tactile feel of fluffy animals, enjoying seeing gurgling babies in prams, as well as the way I look, which dress to wear, which jewellery, make-up and perfume I like, which girls I admire - or can't stand! Which boys are cool! or turn me on! and a multitude of other pleasures overlooked by the common or garden boy - the majority of whose wardrobe I discovered earlier in the day had been consigned to the local household amenity tip by Father in a fit of pique!

Seven days was the figure I had been given, - just seven days of pleasure or purgatory, depending upon how I would view things - with two down and only five days to go. But that had all now changed, thanks to crass stupidity on my part, and the blue flashing light which appeared outside our door on Sunday morning! Yes! the police were adamant, they had the right house, with me in it! On Saturday afternoon, Mr. Kelly had parked a brand spanking new car on his drive and informed Dad, who was just passing at the time, that it was a surprise birthday present for his wife. She was away overnight with friends and due back first thing Sunday morning, the day of her birthday. Despite Mrs. Kelly having informed Mum of my nocturnal activities with the clothes line, Dad was never all that keen on the woman, so he let it slip that some paint stripper would improve her new car's looks no end, which sounded a darned good way of me getting a bit of 'own back' on my part!

I was hardly going to go gallivanting about the street in my frillies, so I waited until it was dark and the family were engrossed in the television before making a quick change into some of what was left of my boys gear, and armed with a can of stripper from our garage, crept out to the road and up the Kelly's drive to give the vehicle's paintwork a liberal touch-up with 'nitromors' before rushing back to await developments the following morning. My carelessness cost me dear, since I was spotted by some chap walking his dog!

I started the Sunday morning getting in some ballet practice in the summerhouse, and preparing for my baptism of fire at school the following day. Mummy took time out to teach me how to spray-starch and iron my own dresses, sew a button on my blouse, wash out my soiled undies in soap powder and warm water, and hang my 'smalls' on the line - and other equally useless activities - for a boy that is! The wailing from Mrs. Kelly next door as I hung the washing out did not go un-noticed, but it was during mid-morning coffee that there was a surprise ring at the bell, and Dad asked the policemen to wait in the lounge while 'Wendy' was frog-marched upstairs by mummy for a quick change of identity to be presented to the gentlemen in blue as Billy, their number one suspect!

Because of my tender age the fuzz could only give me a caution, but as far as Dad was concerned, I had committed the cardinal sin, and he had frequently warned me -"Never shit on your own doorstep son!" So having been caught not once, but twice, he was not amused, especially with the huge bill he would be getting from the Kellys for a respray! "If you like girls clothes so much, and if it keeps you out of mischief, then there is only one answer to our problem!" Despite my tearful pleadings, he had bundled the remainder of my boys clothes into the boot of his car and driven off down the road to return half an hour later, before informing us where he had been! "I thought you were going to take them round your parent's house?" Dad just shrugged his shoulders "I didn't want your father-in-law to know his favourite grand-son could be following in his footsteps, - not for the time being at least! - So what is done is done, and seeing he makes such a lousy son he might as well try to make a better job of being another daughter instead!" Melissa couldn't believe her luck - she would be able to enjoy her little sister for quite some time to come.

On Monday morning I was still in bed when Melissa came in and wished me luck. "Hmm. I murmured catching a whiff of her perfume as she kissed me gently on the cheek. "I do like that smell - can I have some on me Melissa?" - "Tut-tut Wendy, little girls of your age aren't allowed such luxuries for school, it might give the boys ideas!" Her reply made good sense, so I just sniffed away in feigned irritation as she left the room to be driven to school by Dad, who I was told was still miffed at the paint stripper incident, so I was glad not to have to face him before I went off to school. "Rise and shine Wendy dear!" Mother called from the foot of the stairs, and despite my initial doubts, I was quite looking forward to a new experience, which might be to my liking, so having freshened up in the bathroom I soon began the meticulous task of dressing myself as a twelve year old girl pupil of the Kings and Queens School.

Apart from reminding me to put on the training bra, which Melissa had augmented with some special padding to give me a better shape, the rest of the uniform I was to wear held no fear for me, so I was glad Mummy had insisted on giving me some practice the night before, putting on and taking off such a strange garment, and about the only article of girls clothing I hadn't yet tried, so it was quite an unexpected novelty to have to wear the brassiere to school for my first time! It was quite a stylish outfit for a pre-teen girl, while my pale yellow panties were cut surprisingly high - almost a thong. My school uniform consisted of a yellow cotton pinafore dress with buttons down the front, and since I was still too young to wear slinky tights, I was wearing knee length cotton lacy socks and single strap black dolly shoes with one inch heels. Finally I slipped my blue, white and purple tartan blazer round my shoulders, looked in the mirror to comb and tie my hair back with a barrette before skipping excitedly downstairs for Mummy's approval.

Thankfully I was taken to school in mother's car. "Just so that you don't get into any scrapes on the way there," She said, although I was sure she wanted to ensure I didn't play truant - 'Some hopes in this get-up' I thought to myself as she stopped the car at the main gate. -"Don't keep scratching your boobs!" - mummy hissed as I alighted from the car, - "But my bra is all itchy!" - I moaned - "Stop complaining girl, you will have to put up with the initial discomfort, like all young girls have to!"- and with that she drove away leaving me to my fate. Fortunately Somers had advised me to arrive late, so the school yard was deserted as I made my way towards the main block. Once I entered the building the 'clippity-clop' of my dolly shoes was deafening as I trotted down the long corridor towards the Deputy Head's office, which prompted two heads to peer out from the smoky atmosphere of one of the downstairs storerooms, and it just had to be Rod Carter and Jerry Dixon, having a secret drag! "Hi gorgeous" called out smarmy Rod, grinning from ear to ear as he eyed up this fresh chick in a skirt who was obviously much to his liking. "Have you anything on after school, Darling? - Fancy a walk in the park?" But as I quickened my pace to pass them, Jerry just exploded with mirth. - "Bu- But I know you, you are Billy Fielding!" After my cover was blown I just flew down that corridor, pursued by raucous laughter from Jerry and a stream of obsenities from Rod until I reached the safety of Mr. Somer's office.

"Morning Miss Smythe!" -Five minutes later Mr. Somers ushered me into form 3g where the girls were having a geography lesson. The girls politely stood up as the mistress clapped her hands for attention as the Deputy briefly introduced me to my new class. "Girls, this is Wendy Fielding, and she is joining you from form 3b of 'Kings' for an indefinite period, so would you please make her feel welcome and at home here in 'Queens'. She has a lot to catch up with, so please make allowances for her shortcomings, and help her all you can,- she sure will need it!" Somers then briskly departed, leaving me to my fate. "Diana my dear! - Wendy will be sitting next to you." Miss Smythe smiled kindly and beckoned for me to join my new classmates while I tried to ignore the sniggers and stares of disbelief as the new girl took her seat at her desk. I was going to find the lessons pressurised, with a level of concentration which was totally lacking amongst us boys who just liked to 'muck about'.

In such a highly charged and competitive atmosphere it was going to be impossible not to try hard to succeed and be best, both at work and play, so I didn't have much time for day-dreaming the way I had in the past. In any case, I was fullfilling the most driving ambition of my life, so my schooldays were about to get tougher, but I hoped sweeter, since I had much to look forward to!

Thanks to my ballet practice, my movements were quite graceful and my voice had sufficient lilt to be accepted as that of a young girl, so in those respects my absorbtion into form 3g was less painful than I had imagined, but it soon became apparent that Melissa had overdone the padding, and although there were some well developed, and some very pretty eleven and twelve year olds present, none of them could hold a candle to me in one respect, so I was subjected to some punishing stares!

My white blouse protruded well over the desk-top, and the additional weight pulling outwards and downwards from my bra-straps was uncomfortable in the extreme, something I was unused to, so the only answer was to rest my false boobs on the edge of the desk-top to relieve the strain on my back and shoulders and shield them from sight with my forearms and elbows; Diana of course found this most amusing, -"You must use less bird-seed next time!" was her laconic comment, but I just wondered how she knew?

Breaktime came and went, during which time I kept close to Diana and her friends, Josie, Debora and Lisa, and I contented myself with listening in to their converstions, some of which really made my hair curl, not the toilet humour of little boys, but really vile and disgusting descriptions of parts of their own, and other peoples bodies and the various ways in which they may, or may not be manipulated for sexual gratification, and evidently information gleaned mostly from older sisters who must have had experience of such things - but I just didn't really want to know! - not at my age, at any rate.

But that was not all! I had always thought that it was only boys that farted, since I only ever heard Dad and me fart out loud at home, although I must admit to an occasional strong whiff when downwind of Melissa - and even Mummy if the truth be told. So it came as a shock whenever a huge explosion rent the air of 3g to be followed by the suppressed giggling from my classmates and the look of outrage on the teacher's face. Not only that! even though I was quite used to seeing them standing around in groups comparing the size of each others' boobs, there were other strange smells and unexplained occurences to which I had no answer. Girls who looked perfectly healthy would disappear to the sick room to see the nurse, or would suddenly burst into tears and rush from the room holding themselves down there, or I would overhear talk of periods, sanitary towels or panty liners, and even though I had seen adverts for such things on the telly, they were a closed book to me! When I asked Melissa what they were about, she just told me to shut up and mind my own business and just be glad I wasn't a real girl! During the lunchtime break my former classmates in 3b were busy playing wall cricket, so there were no boys pointing accusing fingers in my direction, now I was batting for the other side, but I didn't enjoy my tranquillity for long as Josie and her friends sauntered over to where I stood and launched her attack. "Donna says you were caught stealing girls knickers off clothes lines to wear to ballet class, so is it right you being dressed the way we are is part of your punishment Wendy?" I coughed nervously as heads turned in my direction - "Umm, Yes - I did - and yes it is!" Sharon sidled up and looked down at me. "Tell me Wendy, how does it feel being one of the girls?" She was giving me the once over before she fixed me with a stare from those dark eyes of hers.

"It certainly feels different to wearing boys clothes all day, and yes, I do like it." - "Evidently you missed the point Wendy, I asked how it felt to be a girl - not whether you liked wearing our clothes!" "Humm., I don't think I can answer that Sharon, since I am not a girl." A satisfied smirk appeared on her face. "You could always change over if you liked 'sissy-boy', it's so easy nowadays. Think of it - having to put up with these for real." She had prodded my oversized mounds with her fingers, and then she even made a grab 'down below' but fortunately missed thanks to the folds of my skirts. "And get rid of THAT and you could enjoy the monthly periods of blood, sweat and tears our mothers tell us we will have to endure!" To a young boy with no knowledge of such things my reply was predictable, and the girls doubled up at the niavety of my question. "Perhaps he could have the operation, and then she would know exactly what periods are about, - until the scars heal that is!" I turned aside to hide the tears welling up inside at Sharon and Kirsty's cruel jibes as Diana sprung to my protection.

"Now leave her alone, she doesn't know about girly things, if she clings to her nursery rhyme notion of girls being all 'sugar and spice', and just spending their time trotting around in pretty clothes and playing with their dollies, or acting out doctors and nurses, then that's up to her - let her find out the awful truth in her own time, so lets leave it at that shall we?" - and anyway, I am dying for a wee, are you coming Wendy?" So with Diana in the lead we trooped off to the loos, but I instinctively hesitated on the threshold before being forced onwards by the crush of bodies behind me, as I ended up in one of the stalls as I thankfully lifted my skirt, lowered my knickers and sat down to pee and enjoy my own company for awhile despite the clamour in the background. "Come on Wendy, it's time to stop playing with yourself in there and get back to class." Lisa hammering on the door brought me back to earth as I realised the school bell was sounding, so I wiped and tucked myself in, and with Lisa and Debora in attendance I returned to join the fray and thanks to having some terrific girl friends, I managed to avoid getting into any more scrapes that day as I gradually settled into the class routine with few regrets as to my future. Later that afternoon I discovered that Debora and Lisa were involved in a 'cat-fight' on my behalf, as they proudly displayed their war wounds caused by 'defending a maiden's honour' as they jokingly put it - while the visible scratches to Sharon's and Josie's faces showed how well they had acquitted themselves!

Tom cornered me in the corridor later that day and told me that he was one of the crowd who witnessed the drama as the four girls fought in an untidy pile on the school playground, hair pulling, biting, scratching and kicking each other, keenly egged on by the watching boys, until a teacher came along to break it up. "I cannot see why four girls fought a pitched battle over you Billy?" I couldn't have agreed with him more as he tut-tutted, clinically looking me up and down, surmising what was so quaint and appealing about a boy in a dress, since he, along with most boys of our age found it an enticing prospect - to try experiencing life 'on the other side - but as long as it doesn't happen to us!' - I had no intention of enlightening him in that respect, maintaining a wall of silence, preferring to conduct an intense study of my shiny black shoes as I allowed my skirt to swing gently from side to side.

"While the girls were fighting, I even picked up some new swear words to try on my friends," - he murmured, trying vainly to maintain the momentum of the one sided conversation but frankly he was just trying my patience - "Umm. and anyway Billy, what's it like pretending to be a girl?" At last he had popped the big question he was dying to ask all along as I looked straight at him with a cynical smile then glanced sideways with disdain as I 'tut-tutted', - "If you really want to find out what its like to dress up as a girl," I snapped,- "You could always join me if you miss my company so much, and then you could share in the thrilling adventures of having our bottoms pinched and our skirts flipped, or experience the obscene name calling from the boys, as well as the excitement of moving our hands, legs and body in as feminine and graceful way as possible, so as to blend seamlessly with our peer group. - Or perhaps the sheer pleasure of talking endless drivel about clothes, make-up, pop-groups, schoolgirl crushes and boy friends, babies, and the other stimulating subjects 'us girls' just love to natter about, and the constant endeavours to keep ourselves clean and tidy in the way all our girl friends are supposed to do, and finally try to compete on equal terms with the girls in our classwork - and I'm telling you Tom, tain't no walkover - but you are welcome to try!" He smiled ruefully at my comments as he turned and quickly walked away, no doubt hoping his brief conversation with me in the corridor had gone un-noticed by his peers, while I trotted off to my desk to fetch my knitting for the girls' needlework lesson, although I did feel some compassion for the scarlet faced boy who was once my friend.

Following the cat-fight at school earlier in the week, the hackneyed saying that 'lightning doesn't strike twice' was surely put to the test after my Thursday ballet class with the seniors as we were being fitted with our ballet costumes for the Paris trip. There was a definite undercurrent of disquiet in the girls' locker room, as the petty jealousies between the girls began to surface over who had the best dress, the best part, who was the prettiest, or whatever, but I think my mere presence as a newcomer in the scheme of things was ample cause for complaint with some of the younger girls. Unfortunately for me, my soul-sisters, Jane and Pauline had already left with Carlotta, so I tried to ignore the murmurings, but as the clamour became louder and the remarks more offensive, I just had to listen, although I still maintained my cool.

After one particular tirade from Rachel, suggesting 'Why should Wendy be permitted to pinch our parts and go prancing and dancing in Paris, but that the steaming dung-heap should be stripped and thrown out to rejoin the other pansy boys who fancied themselves too much.' Jenny trotted over to whisper, "You don't have to put up with that, Wendy, - why don't you give her a good hiding?"

My reply was fairly predictable,- "But boys don't hit girls, its not done- not by me anyway!" She looked at me as though I had just crawled from beneath a stone - "Get real girl! - Take a look at yourself in the mirror you fairy," she sneered - "Girls fight dirty, not like boys when they square up to each other, and you are just one of the girls from now on, so no more excuses, pull her hair or slap the bully down - she has asked for it!"

I just shrugged my shoulders and turned away to continue changing back into my blouse and skirt having decided to scuttle off home as accusing fingers began pointing at me for not standing up for myself and getting a friend to fight my verbal battles, as if innocent little Wendy Fielding were to blame, but in the final analysis they were quite right, not that I cared! - I wanted to steer clear of trouble from now on. Meanwhile Diana, Lisa and Rachel, who was Rod Carter's sister, together with some of the other girls were still trying on their elaborate satin and lace tutus, under the patient supervision of the wardrobe mistress, who was quite used to tantrums from little girls, as she gave me a sympathetic smile of support. I had rested my foot on a bench as I tied a black ribbon bow on one of my shoes, when Rachel came over to change, but as she did so I was given an huge shove from behind which could have sent me sprawling.

I was so surprised that I swung round and lunged at Rachel and the next moment the the two of us were at each others throats as we grappled each other to the floor rolling about in the dust Rachel still wearing her lovely ballet tutu, spitting, scratching, kicking and biting in a frenzied burst of uncontrollable anger, as our unseemly behaviour was enthusiastically cheered on by an audience of squealing girls, baying for blood, with Jenny shouting my name by way of encouragement! Eventually we were forcefully seperated by Madame Olga and Miss Jones, who had heard the kerfuffle down the corridor. Naturally the ladies were furious with the two belligerants, and despite our dishevelled state, - covered in rosin dust, scratches on our scarlet faces, and - worse of all - Rachel's net tutu all dirty and torn, we were immediately marched off to the office for a dressing down from Madame as we blamed each other for stirring up trouble in the first place.

I was feeling quite elated by the time I reached home, having stood up for myself against a girl for the first time ever, (apart from Melissa of course, but sisters don't count!). After supper I confided my worries to Melissa over the evenings events, and whether the other girls would disown me, but she thought I had little to fear for the future, thanks to Jenny's intervention and encouragement 'to have a go!' "It's a pity you couldn't fight your own verbal battles Wendy, the same as any normal girl does, but without necessarily getting physical - you know - 'the power of the pen' and all that stuff!"

"But I am not much good with words - I never know quite what to say when I am with girls, - or with boys for that matter, or I plan in advance what I am going to say, and then forget, or I am so embarrassed at the sissyish way I am dressed, and just dry up!" Melissa looked me sternly in the eyes. "Now listen here sweetie, - it takes some real spunk for you to spend all day dressed from top to toe in the regulation school girls uniform as a punishment, and having to put up with the taunts and even the physical abuse from your former classmates. Then to have the nerve to pitter patter prettily round a dance studio purely for your own pleasure, learning how to mince and curtsey with a class of silly girls, which is why I gave it up eventually, - so I can't see why you get so cut up about delivering a few measly words." - "I'm sorry Melissa, but that's the way I am made." - was my tame reply which I suppose at the end of the day about sums me up!

When half term started, on the Saturday morning I was up bright and early in order to prepare myself for out final dress rehearsal with Madame Olga before our departure for Paris, so when Mummy and Melissa came downstairs, I was already halfway through my warm-up exercises, and at breakfast Mummy discussed what we should do later in the day. "Would you two girls like Daddy and Mummy to take you out for a meal this evening Darlings?" - "But Mum!" I protested, "You have forgotten about our four cousins coming to tea today and staying overnight! They can't see me dressed like this! and I haven't anything to change into thats suitable since Dad has kindly dumped the lot!" She looked thoughtful, - "Quite right Wendy! Indeed I had forgotten, - so in that case, I must treat you two girls to a new dress each!" It was obvious that despite my pleadings ringing in her ears, she was now on another planet, pursuing an agenda for her own amusement, intent on changing the frog prince into a beautiful princess, as Melissa enthusiastically endorsed the promise of a shopping trip to the mall, but such an idea wasn't part of my agenda and I suddenly didn't feel hungry any more at the prospect of my weekend being ruined by four small tearaways!

Madame was including excerpts from 'The Nutcracker' in the Paris repertoire, so Carlotta's outstanding dancing ensured she was 'The Sugar Plum Fairy', possibly the ugliest one ever. But her exquisite and graceful dancing amply compensated for her lack of other attributes off-stage, particularly her East End cockney 'north and south' and her innate rudeness and clumsiness. But once on stage she was truly a 'Princess', and everyone adored and admired her for that, 'but boy, for a girl was she ugly! 'On thinking about it though, perhaps she was a boy, the same as Pauline, Jane and yours truly?' So perhaps a little more paying attention in the changing room next time would be in order?

Later in the day car doors being slammed and the clatter of tiny hooves in the hall below announced the arrival of Dad's sister and her tribe, I was upstairs at the time reading my 'dancers' magazine but I had a sneak preview from the upstairs landing as greetings were exchanged by our parents while the four children, Amanda - ten, twin boys - David and Brad, and finally the black sheep - Megan - who was six, rushed through the house, closely followed by Melissa and Mummy, in order to see our new indoor swimming pool, while Dad had supposedly been given the task of seeing their parents speedily on their way to the station for a late night show and overnight stay in London, and thereby avoid meeting up with the new girl in the house, for what could be an embarrassing confrontation all round. But the way the conversation was going, Dad would have been quite keen on seeing me humiliated in front of those two - given half the chance!

"Where is that favourite nephew of mine?" I must see him before I go, - just got a little something for him!" Uncle Ben was standing in the hall at the foot of the stairs, bawling at the top of his voice, while I was transfixed on the first floor landing in my girly clothes, hoping and praying that the two of them would just go and leave me to make my explanations to their more pliable offspring since I had no intention of appearing in my lovely flowery dress! "Come on Darling, we must go, we will miss our train! Aunty Rita's request was ignored as Dad had his say, - "He shouldn't be a minute Ben, he is probably having trouble putting on the new dress Laura bought him today - either that or he is just too shy."

There was a deathly silence at Dad's gaffe, as our nearest relatives recoiled with shock horror at his reply. "Did I hear you right Harry?" - An invitation for Dad to rephrase his answer, something he was unable, or unwilling to do! "Melissa and Wendy went shopping today for new dresses, now what is wrong with that!" "Umm. am I hearing you right, friend?" Ben was hot on the trail now, and my situation was becoming untenable as his voice reached a crescendo. "Did I hear you say Wendy, and not Billy? - because if that's the case, I am giving my old shotgun away to the wrong person." But It seemed Dad was not to be swayed as he stuck to his guns. "You may well be right Ben, that son of ours has become more than a handfull recently, and as part of his punishment, Billy is no longer with us for the foreseeable future, but Wendy is here instead." Uncle Ben's voice now moderated. "Oh I see, you have an unruly girl taking his place?" Dad could see a bolt hole which seemed to satisfy Ben. "Y-Yes, something like that!"

"Hang on a minute Harry, you said Melissa and Wendy went shopping with their mother, and that Billy was having trouble putting on his new dress!" Auntie Rita interrupted with her two pennyworth to muddy the waters again. 'Oops!' I thought, 'we ain't out of the woods yet!'- "Anyway Laura, I think we have to leave this madhouse if we want to catch our train - and Ben, -you can decide whether to give that shotgun to him, - or her, next time we call! - Say bye-bye to everybody for us," she continued - "Including Wendy - whoever she may be!" I heard the door slam behind them as Dad unceremoniously showed them through the door, and I heard him breath a big sigh of relief which was echoed by me - 'not that I wanted Uncle Ben's old shotgun, - what use is it to a girl?'

'Wendy' was a roaring success with her cousins, and although there was some lingering doubt with Amanda as to who I really was, Dad had managed to forwarn my mother and sister, and they were able to play along with the concept of me being some malevolent girl dumped on them in exchange for the equally uncontrollable Billy! I played my part to perfection, using Wendy's fearsome reputation as an excuse to shove the fully clothed Megan into the deep end of our pool, and although she threw a tantrum at the time, Melissa took on the task of rescuing her, and then changing her sodden clothes for one of her old party dresses which Megan promptly fell in love with, But I was soon re-instated as Megan's 'naughtiest but best girl-friend ever' as she cuddled up to me at the tea-table, much to my dismay and the amusement of my parents. On Sunday it was a relief to find Wendy was saved from a confrontation with my cousin's parents when Daddy volunteered to run my cousins home while Mummy and I prepared ourselves for our trip to Paris first thing Monday morning - including my first ever trip to a beauty salon for a proper girl's hairdo and makeover ready for my trip to France!.!

Having been been fitted out by mummy in my brand new pale blue gingham ballet school dress which I would be wearing on the journey complete with all the trimmings , and ensured that all my feminine frills were packed, Daddy ferried us to the ballet school where the coach was waiting to take us to Waterloo, as I joined in the voiciferous throng, seeking out my best friends, and excitedly squealing and chattering along with the others about the forthcoming trip. Poor old Miss Jones had the thankless task of checking off her list that we were all present and correct since Madame was indisposed following a car accident so would be joining us later with Mr. Somers, although Diana would be travelling with the party. Melissa tried to put on a brave face as she kissed me farewell in a fond sisterly manner, knowing that by her own stupid actions I had unwittingly usurped her place on the trip, in order to keep alive Mummy's dearest wish to have an accomplished ballerina in the family, even if she did turn out to be a boy!

I thought the next problem might be my passport, but fortunately we were travelling by Eurostar to Paris, so with all the documents bundled together, chances were the authorities wouldn't notice the absence of three boys, or an additional three extra girls to the party instead, and evidently it had never been picked up on before, so why this time?It turned out I was misled, as the immigration officer spotted we were FOUR boys short, as he began checking and re-checking the mug-shots on our passports with a row of sixteen pink, rosy-faced girls, nearly all dressed in pale blue gingham ankle length summer dresses, our faces framed in straw flowered bonnets, and all carrying parasols in our lace-encased hands as he tried to identify the sheep from the goats, as eventually four of us 'girls' were seperated from the rest, including a sheepish looking Carlotta as our parents made the necessary explanations - and so just as I had suspected, our star ballerina was a boy just like me! It was quite a shock when H.M.Customs also descended on our party, and conducted a surprise strip search, family members, boys and girls included. "Your four ballerina sissy-boys were really caught 'on the hop' this time," joked one customs official. "Cut the crap!" replied Miss Jones in a disengaging manner, "these youngsters are now two hours late for their first ballet practice on French soil!" and she led the way onto the platform to board the next train, hoping and praying our luggage had arrived safely the other end.

After the initial setbacks the rest of the trip was bound to be a disaster, helped by the indisposition of Madame Druon, who was attending a funeral in Nice, so her deputy, a Madame Giraud, who met our party at the Gare du Nord was less than helpful in making us feel at home, a feeling of animosity she tried to pass on to our host families, and thanks to her, anglo-french relations suffered a further knock! Fortunately Mummy and I were billeted with the Lanaux family, who had two small boys and three older girls, all actively involved in dancing, and all were simply charming, Mr Lanaux being a dancer by profession. Naturally I was introduced to the family as 'Wendy Fielding'.

"Ah! You must be Billy?" was our host's response in perfect English as he kissed my offered hand while I curtseyed a reverance, my scarlet face revealing what I really felt of being being betrayed in such a publicly humiliating manner. "Your son makes a perfect Mademoiselle, and I am sure she dances as beautifully as she looks!" - he purred, addressing mother who was beside herself with delight at our welcome, while Monsieur completed the formal introductions all round before we piled into the Renault Espace for the short journey to our lodgings. I was seated squeezed between the two boys at the back as the girls plied me with questions about my trip, while the boys maintained an uncomfortable silence, perhaps embarrassed at the novelty of coming into contact with my quaint attire within the confines of the car.

Their appartment was a typical parissiene affair of faded granduer, located in one of the market areas close to the ballet school, with a resident concierge who really scared the life out of me! But we were shown into the guest room which had two single beds, and although clean, was lacking in natural lighting, since it backed onto a brick wall, which was compensated for by a generous coating of white paint over all the furniture, but by English standards could have done with a makeover. While Mummy and I began to unpack our cases, Georges, who at eleven was the eldest of the two boys, was peering furtively through the door at what we were doing.

"Please come in young man." said mother, kindly, and he sidled into the room and seated himself on a lloyd-loom chair, but still maintaining a measured silence as he watched me hanging my girls skirts, dresses and blouses in the wardrobe,and putting my more intimate items of apparel in the dressing table drawers before stripping off my frock and climbing into my practice gear. Strangely I was unfazed by his behaviour, which had a quiet detachment about it, until he eventually spoke. "Are you really a garcon like me, Billy?" - "Umm, yes I am, for the time being that is!" Mother's eyes narrowed at this unforced admission of my heartfelt desire, as Georges continued his probing. - "I would love to dress the way you do Wendy - you have such lovely clothes - so 'chic' and feminine for an English boy." Mummy smiled broadly, - "Thanks to me that is! - He and his sister only have the best in tasteful clothes that I can afford!" - "Mummy! Please remember I'm not a He!" I growled under my breath.

"Perhaps we could dress your little friend up if he would like that." Georges wriggled uncomfortably, "But Madam, I do have three older sisters not just one, so I should be able to dress up any time that I please. But I have to set an example to Jean, my younger brother, and in any case - I am frightened of the consequences of getting caught dressed in my sisters' clothes, so I take ballet lessons instead, then at least I can pretend I am dressed up." - "But Georges, why just pretend? Couldn't he come to England later this year and stay with us and he could dress up until his heart's content." Which Mummy thought that was a bril. idea! After the evening meal Georges gallantly walked me round to the ballet studio while Mummy stayed behind to chat with Madame Lanaux, and since it was another bitterly cold evening, I was grateful to be able to wear the navy blue coat with the white fur-lined hood which Diana had loaned me for the Paris trip, but despite my pink ballet tights my exposed legs were still quite cold, so woolly leg-warmers were top of my wish list! Madame Olga's indisposition mean't we were coached by a smartly dressed gentleman introduced to us as Monsieur Reynard, and he insisted we wore our detachable pink net tutus over our coloured leotards in order to get used to the feel and sway of stiffened net petticoats round our tiny waists and thighs for our forthcoming appearance in the 'nutcracker'. One of the older girls comment about 'Not being the only stiffened thing she would love to get the feel of during the holiday' was disconcerting, especially when some of the other girls giggled and nodded their heads in assent - including my friends Pauline and Jane as I recalled their earnest desire for S.R.S. and what that could do for them which they had gone to great lengths to explain!

Any way, that was their affair and I was too young to concern myself with such things as I put my heart and soul into my performance, only occasionally letting my attention wander over to Georges - seated on a chair in the corner of the dance studio as he watched the proceedings and strangely enough - always seemed to be looking at me! He had even more reason to stop and stare when we tried on the dresses loaned to us for Monsieur Reynard's house party two nights hence. My tap dance dress seemed to be too large for me, but I decided to try out my steps anyway, so I came trotting from the locker room and into the studio, but as I took up my position waiting for Miss Jones to play my music, someone opened an outside door and a freezing blast of wind whipped through the studio and played havoc with my flimsy clothing as I tried desperately to control my flying skirts and petticoats while the onlookers were giggling uproariously at my expense, although I could see Georges was gallantly trying not to look and save me from further embarrassment! After the practice had finished, Diana collared me in the 'Filles' while I was about to collect my coat from my locker. "Who was the boy you kept eyeing up during practice?" When I looked round I was quite surprised to find she was changing into a brown woollen plaid skirt and pale cream embroidered cotton long sleeved blouse, having apparently abandoned the jeans and tank tops for the duration of the holiday. "But Diana, I wasn't looking at anyone in particular." I turned to face her as she grinned wickedly, knowing I was on the defensive. "Yes! - he is quite dishy! - no wonder you want to keep him for yourself!" My hands on hips response was to splutter with false indignation, - "Actually, if you must know, Miss Know-it-all, I am staying with Georgie's parents just round the corner. By now she had just finished putting her coat on, as she delivered the 'coup-de-grace'. - "Georgy eh? - a very cosy arrangement Wendy, if you don't mind me saying so, - that's why I thought the two of you needed some cooling off so I opened the outside door just at the critical moment - but it doesn't seemed to have worked - you two have got it bad!" The shit hit the fan as I let my feelings get the better of me and rushed forward grappling Diana to the ground, our arms and legs flailing wildly. But it was all over in an instant, my cover well and truly blown as we let ourselves be helped to our feet by our audience, and muttering an apology of sorts to Diana before grabbing my coat and quitting a scene of my own making, my so-called reputation in tatters, 'Yes, there was no doubt about it, I was definitely just 'one of the girls' now! - physically spoiled and mentally soiled! - No more pretence of being little Miss Prim, Proper and Perfect! - I had been tried, tested and found wanting! What-is-more I now knew exactly what it was I wanted!

The following day we had some free time for sightseeing, so by popular request we chose either the Eiffel Tower, or the Louvre. I set off with Diana's party in order to patch up our quarrel, and since Diana suffered from vertigo, we were soon on our way to the Louvre and traipsing round the galleries, in company with the inseperable Pauline and Jane, together with our parents, and had just feasted our eyes on the 'Venus de Milo' when a portrait in a side gallery caught Pauline's attention. We followed her into the Winterhalter Gallery where she made a bee-line for the large picture at the end of the room. It was the portrait of the Empress Eugenie and her female retinue, in a stunning display of high Victorian fashion, dresses we could really drool over - even after the 150 years since the portrait was painted. "There is a little known story about two of the ladies in this portrait!" Pauline was about to give us the benifit of her limited knowledge whether we liked it or not, so our attention span was cut short as we all turned to wander off in different directions and to do our own thing, leaving just her and Jane still standing in front of the picture.

I was almost out of earshot when I heard the name Jenny Savalette de Lange, so while mother continued on her way to the ladies loos, I excused myself and about turned to clip clop back the way I came, wishing and wanting to hear more! As we stood ther studying the portraits of three of the principal characters in Pauline's story, to the casual observer, the tale she related would have been of little significance despite a generous helping of political intrigue in high places, as well as murder, betrayal, spying, assasination attempts, escapes, and even the odd passionate or illicit love affair. What proof of any element of truth in a story she had been told by her host family was open to question, but as far as Jane and I were concerned, Pauline was a darned good storyteller, and it had all the elements of a Hollywood blockbuster of blood and thunder, sex and lust, and even spiced with an element of 'deja-vu' - and I even used the story for a school essay entitled 'The Enigmatic Empress' when I returned home to England and even won the annual school prize for the best short story! But we did have a little adventure of our own on the way home on the Metro, when a gang of pickpockets attempted to snatch my pink shoulder bag at L'Opera station. Quick-witted Jane anticipated what was happening in all the jostling, and a dainty foot snaked out resulting in the young thief measuring himself on the station platform. He was promptly pounced upon by two gedarmes who quickly releived my assailant of his booty, although a twelve year old girl is hardly likely to have anything worth stealing - apart from my passport of course, and Mummy and I couldn't thank Jane enough for her foresight. The rest of the day was peaceful by comparison, and once again Georges was on hand to escort me to Madame Druon's for a dress rehearsal, as he gallantly carried my ballet tutu for me, which had required some minor alterations by George's mother for the nets to hang properly. So as I relieved him of the garment before scampering off to the changing room, I impulsively rewarded him with a light peck on the cheek, which brought a scowl from Diana, who just happened to be watching! It was then I realised what was wrong - she was jealous as hell! - not that she ever had any reason to be - I kept telling myself, but I was going to milk her pettiness for all it was worth, after all - she was behaving like a cow! Furthermore she proved it by avoiding me all evening, and stirring the pot with the other girls!

I was quite relieved when Madame Olga arrived the following morning , all-be-it on crutches, because my strained relationship with Diana was becoming unbearable, and I hoped her mother would shake some sense into the girl. That evening we attended an open house at Monsieur Reynard's residence, and we were told there would be a fashion theme to the event, so Pauline, Jane and I were sporting 'fifties' style dresses. I was wearing my bright red embroidered 'poodle' skirt over white cotton anglaise lace petticoats, together with a white anglais lace long-sleeved pinch pleated blouse, a style which was enjoying a periodic fashion revival with us young 'teeny-boppers', while on my feet were red flatties suitable for dancing in. My two friends were dressed in flowered cotton dresses with masses of lace and net petticoats, nylon stockings and white high heels to show off their legs. Although mother didn't know it at the time, I too had replaced my tights with a bright red lacy suspender belt and matching french knickers which grown up ladies wear and 'nude' lacy topped stockings, and I was feeling really scrumptious, especially since I was in the company of Georges as my date for the evening!

During the evening, we put on our stage show to amuse our hosts, and I had been chosen to perform a solo tap dance routine, and even though it was my first opportunity to dress up to dance for real, when Madame handed me this satin and lace red and white polka dot creation with matching dolly shoes and frilly white socks which would thrill the heart of any stagestruck little girl, but with a live audience on hand, I began to have my doubts! But once I was dressed and looked in the mirror, wearing such a cutesy outfit gave me such a kick that I put my heart and soul into my performance which can be seen from my photographs, and despite the odd misread cue, because of lack of practice, I was duly rewarded with generous applause. But Diana was in a strange mood, and as I came 'off-stage'she made a pointed remark - "Really Wendy! with Georges and the other young boys looking on, you shouldn't have let your frilly 'step-ins' show beneath your thigh-length dress - it was positively indecent!" Really she was right since I did feel rather over-exposed. But what the hell, - it was a dance dress,- may be a wee bit more seductive and showy than a net tutu plus the trimmings, but I had been told to wear it and I did - so if the boys watching had a cheap thrill seeing my gorgeous knickers, so what! I am sure I would have done the same if I were in their place, and Georges certainly did, because he told me so afterwards! But I suspected that he would have loved to have been on stage mincing about alongside me in a sissy show girl dress, given half the chance! The Reynard's were keen on jazz, although it is not exactly my scene, preferring instead eurodance music, and some garage, but Georges soon had me throwing myself into the party spirit as we exhausted our surplus energy on the dance floor.

Despite sweating buckets, and refreshing ourselves regularly with alco-pops, half way through the evening nature had her way and I left the room to go to the loo, only to be beaten to the door by Diana. She didn't speak, but gave a sickly smile of triumph, leaving me outside to hold on as best I could, or traipse to the other end of the house. Thankfully she was surprisingly quick - barely time to pass wind or water, and I didn't even hear the toilet flush before she came out again, but I was desperate and dived past her, closing and locking the door behind me. 'Hang it' I thought, looking round for the toilet - any sort of toilet, desperately raising my skirt and petticoats and lowering my knickers to 'half-mast' as I trotted past the hand basin, the dressing table, the sunken bath and the bidet to the far corner of the room where the throne was half concealed in a tiled enclosure. 'No time for ceremony now' - and I promptly presented percy to the porcelain for a protracted pee! I was guilty as hell once I had finished, but assuming the sitting postion would have taken up valuable seconds, at the time a risk I felt I couldn't take, and having taking some time over freshening up in such sumptuous surroundings, I was once again ready to meet my public! The look on Diana's face was a picture as I re-appeared through the door where a queue of girls had now formed, but I was too anxious to to get back to Georges to worry about them or her!

Twenty minutes later the party came to an abrupt halt with the arrival of an ambulance crew and the fire brigade. One of the French girls was stuck in the toilet - and I mean stuck! Georges and I were so busy dancing, we didn't notice anything strange was going on until the music was switched off as amidst the hub-bub the poor girl was carted away in the ambulance, the toilet seat discreetly hidden beneath a blanket for the five minute trip to the local hospital. Then the ricriminations began as the girls in the queue for the loo compared notes, and fingers of suspicion were pointed at me! M. Reynard was beside himself with anger and he strode over to where I was standing, - "Where is your handbag Madamoiselle?" he begged, with a barely concealed sneer, and I pointed over to the chair where I had been sitting. "May I?" he asked, as he held my clutch bag in his hand, and I nodded as the contents were strewn across a coffee table. The tiny superglue tube was unmistakeable in amongst my makeup, the purse, my latchkey, the sanitary pads and all the other incongruous contents of a girl's handbag, and his face said it all as I prepared to meet my Waterloo, while on the far side of the dance floor I could see the real culprit grinning like an ape. But there seemed little point in putting up any sort of defence in the face of such overwhelming evidence and upsetting our host even more, and I meekly allowed myself to be led to the front door, followed anxiously by the faithful Georges to await the taxi to run me back to Madame Lanaux as I ruminated on what might have happened if it had been Diana's intended target who was carted off to hospital in the ambulance with a toilet seat stuck to my butt - but thereby hangs a tale!

The possibility of having to return to England the following day would be a devestating blow, and I spent a sleepless night tossing, turning and endlessly sobbing at the cruel trick that had deprived mother of the rest of her holiday, and me of my first public appearance on stage as a boy ballerina, and sure enough I received a telephone call the following morning which sealed my fate! Evidently my reputation had preceded me to Paris, and although to begin with, Madame Druon was unaware I was a small boy, she had been warned of my wilful ways, and it came as no surprise to find this young boy was responsible for ruining a wonderful evening and spoiling another girl's chances of appearing in the charity concert later in the week. My pleas of innocence were ignored, but not without good reason, so it was a tearful Georges who waved me goodbye from his bedroom window as we left in a taxi for the station, while the return journey with Mummy on 'Eurostar' was conducted in dead silence as I plotted sweet revenge on the girl who had been responsible for getting me into this sissy state in the first place!

We were met at Waterloo station by Dad, who ran us home in the car as he and Mummy puzzled over my future. "What are we going to do with you young lady? - first it's the police authorities over here, now you end up getting deported from over there! - Where's it going to end?" I coughed nervously - "Umm, but I didn't do it Daddy!" I pleaded in vain - "And I wasn't deported!" - "Well if you weren't responsible perhaps you would tell us who was? - and be that as it may Wendy, you seem to be as much unruly as a girl as you were as a boy, and you have told so many lies in the past why should we believe you now? - Even the boy who cried 'wolf' could take some lessons from you!" Thankfully the cross-examination ceased when we arrived home, and a mystified Melissa arrived home from a movie to find her prodigal sister had returned to the fold - though to give her her due, - having told her that it was my friendship with Georges and how she had seen us dancing and kissing which had caused Diana to react in such a jealous manner - my sister did believe I was telling the truth since she knew how sneaky Diana could be. But I had no way of proving my innocence, unless of course Diana's guilty conscience got the better of her and I had no intention of blagging on Diana in spite of everything - it was kinda - honour amongst thieves! "Fancy you, getting off with a french lad!" Melissa smirked unkindly. "But I didn't - I'm not that sort of girl!" I replied without really thinking and I stamped my foot in exasperation. "Go on Wendy what sort of girl are you then? I bet you say that to all the boys!" - and she let out a big belly laugh to clear the air, although I must admit I had felt some strange feelings in my knickers of late!

"Good news Wendy! I have just had a phone call from Madame Olga in Paris." I had been moping around the house most of the following morning feeling thoroughly miserable and missing the excitement of ballet practice and the dress rehearsals for the Madelaine concert when the news broke. Diana's room mate had found a till receipt for a tube of super glue which had fallen from Diana's purse. She had reported the facts to Madame Olga and eventually Diana broke down and confessed her guilt to her mother - hence the call exonerating me from all blame in the matter. We also learned that the disgraced Diana had been kicked out of the charity concert by Madame Olga and was on her way home with her father, since her spiteful and stupid behaviour had ruined our holiday, put a french girl in hospital, upset M. Reynard, and also strained relations with Madame Druon. Furthermore, Madame and Mr. Somers had decided that their daughter should be made an example of, the same as any other pupil of King and Queens, and would effectively be swapping roles with me, since she would be returning to school as 'Dennis', and occupying my former desk in form 3b!

The following Monday at the start of the spring term, a sadder, and wiser Diana re-appeared at school in her role as Dennis. She had always towered over me but she was absorbed into the class with little trouble, most of my former classmates being about her height, and a brief bout of fisticuffs with Jerry, the form bully put her firmly in the driving seat as a boy to be treated with respect and she was soon great friends with Tom and James! She did give me a wide berth though, and it was a great relief when I found out she was giving up ballet and taking up rugby instead!

Meanwhile now I was one of the girls I was allowed to wear the summer uniform which was a red and white pinafore dress with a large, floppy blue necktie set off against a wide white collar, but still with the shiny black regulation dolly shoes and the short white frilly topped ankle socks, although in such a pretty outfit I began to feel much better after my recent ordeal, and my school friends were all agog at what had happened in France so I was now in great demand to reveal all the gory details, and being females, they expected to hear every little nuance, but what they got from me was a heavily censored version, and the briefest mention of Georges!

During morning break I was summoned by Mr.Somers to his study, so accompanied by Lisa who waited for me outside, I entered the room to find an uncomfortable looking Diana standing there in her new boys uniform, as she made a choked attempt to voice an apology for the way she had treated me in France, before being dismissed by her father and told to return to her lessons. Then the deputy head cleared his throat; - " Umm, - I just want to assure you, that after the recent misunderstanding in France, you are welcome to return to class 3b as a boy, and resume ballet lessons with Madame if you so wish ,- Umm - Wendy." He coughed awkwardly, averting his eyes with embarrassment, awaiting my response. But I just couldn't reply to such a suggestion, as I stood there in stony silence, trembling with frustration and expecting the worst, my clenched hands gripping the sides of my skirt, but wishing and wanting to shout out the truth, but unable to do so, and dreading what he would say next! "Of course young lady, umm - it is entirely up to you now that my daughter is occupying your old desk in the boys class, and you do make a very attractive addition to the female element of King and Queens School, while your teachers are very pleased with your academic progress as Wendy, - Umm - so you don't have to make your mind up right away!" As the poor man stood there, I could read uncertainty etched in his face as I replied, barely above a whisper, - "I will rather stay as I am Sir, in form 3g!" He was genuinely relieved by my answer "Please take all the time that you wish my dear, - there is no hurry." His affectionate response had the desired effect and I could have kissed him then and there at this joyous news, instead I just burst into tears, and turned and fled out of his study, onwards down the corridor passing a startled Lisa on the way, in order to have a good cry in the girls' loo where my friend eventually caught up with me. "What did he say to upset you Wendy? Does it mean you have to go back to the boys class?" I gulped back the tears to reply - "No Lisa, - he says I can remain in the girls class as long as I like" Lisa smiled - "Well why all the tears." she asked - "He called me 'dear'" - I gulped as I started weeping again. Lisa stepped forward to embrace me while I rested my head on her shoulder and let my true feelings flow. "I'm so relieved Wendy! let's go and tell the others" - and hand in hand we skipped back to our classroom for our next lesson in - of all things - feminine hygiene!

The following evening, Daddy ran me to my Ballet class on his way to the his club for a game of pool just as Mrs.Kelly's birthday present was returned after its respray, so as we drove by I stuck out my tongue in defiance at the woman as she fussed over her restored treasure and in return she gave me a withering look, shaking her fist in anger as I leered at her from the open top of our car. Upon my arrival, I kissed Daddy on the cheek and made my way to to Madame's office for one of her pep talks. "I must apologise to you for the way you were treated in Paris Wendy, I know it cost you dear, but I am sure you will be pleased learn that Georges, who I understand was the reason for Diana's jealous behaviour will be coming over to stay with you for the Easter break together with his twin sister." I couldn't hide my feelings at hearing this piece of news as I squealed with delight. - "Thank you for telling me Madame, but Georges hasn't got a twin sister." Madame smiled and put her finger to her lips; -"Well we don't want your boyfriend raiding the properties box while he is here do we my dear? So Georgina will be taking ballet classes with you during her stay instead." Madame then outlined the ballet school's activities over the next three months as she told me I would continue my classes with the seniors, in order to prepare for another charity function in a months time, with me as one of the principal ballerinas, Jennifer and me being partnered by two of the boys, so as to compensate for my disastrous trip to Paris. - so it was with a hop, skip, and a jump for joy that I rejoined my classmates at barre, who were generally pleased to see me back.

Jenny and I stayed behind afterwards to be matched with the boys we would be partnering, so Jenny was thrilled to bits when she found she would be dancing with Steven,'Mr.Muscle' as he was affectionately known. I came off second best with Tony Bland, who's character really suited his name,- he was too serious by far - but what the hell! - and as Jenny pointed out on our way to the locker room - "The boys are only there in place of the barre and for the lifts as far as most of the audience are concerned Wendy, and that is all they are there for. Even the best ballet boys are just looked upon by us girls as 'patsy's, while the girls who finally make it to the corps de ballet are considered the real 'stars'" - My reply was understandable as I was putting on my flowered summer dress over my practice leotard to go home, - "I think you are quite right Jenny! - I am so happy when I am dancing with Pauline, Jane and all you girls, it is one of the joys of being a boy ballerina!" She gave me a friendly hug - "Don't say that Wendy, you are too pretty to call yourself a boy, - especially in that lovely sun-dress of yours." Despite my embarrassment at her pointed remark I glanced across at the young long legged girl in a shocking pink straw hat reflected in the mirror, - yes - Jenny was right, I was gorgeous!

With the lighter evenings, my homeward trip after ballet class was never as scary as it had been in the dark. But I still experienced a feeling of defencelessness and vulnerability that many a young girl would feel, dressed in such flimsy attire, as my one inch platforms clippety clopped along the pavement at a fair old pace so as to avoid the real or imagined attention of passing undesirables, as I averted my gaze to pre-empt any eye contact with male car drivers. Pauline told me he kept a half brick in his hand-bag for emergencies, while Jane relied on a pepper spray, but I couldn't expect much protection from the chanel 'allure' now residing in my clutch bag, and liberally sprayed on my skin barely five minutes ago - a highly desirable duty free purchase made on my way back from France

I was now feeling much more at ease as I rounded the corner at the end of our road, with several neighbours out front cutting hedges or planting bedding plants with only the Kelly woman standing alongside her pride and joy between me and home. I was just about to pass her and her new cabriolet when the substantial shape of the old dragon stepped in front of me, effectively blocking off the pavement and the direct route to my front door as a smirk of satisfaction spread over her fat face! "Ah Master Billy - or is it Miss Wendy? she cackled - "It is so hard to tell these days with such a pretty young thing like you!" Non-plussed, I stumbled out the first words that came to my head - "Umm! - Thank you for saying so Mrs.Kelly, but I must go, I am late for my meal." Her substantial hand grasped me by the arm grabbing my ballet bag as she snarled - "Not so fast there! - I want a quiet word with you Missy - so don't run away like the cowardly sissy you really are or I will let the whole neighbourhood hear what I have to say, whether you like it or not!" Faced with such a dilemma, all I could do was stand my ground and prepare for her onslaught, but she had other ideas as she propelled me towards her car and pointed the keys in her podgy hand towards the lock, and I heard the 'clunk' as the catches were released and she pulled open the door and manhandled me into the passenger seat, closing the door firmly behind me as she waddled round and took her place alongside me in the drivers seat, as another 'clunk' confirmed I was trapped inside a car with someone who, from the smell, seemed to have a serious case of B.O.! "Put your seat-belt on pansy-boy - we are going for a ride!" she snapped, and now I was really worried, as she started the engine and drove slowly down our road without saying another word.

I soon became aware that the car seat was damp, so I assumed someone may have left the hood open overnight. Five minutes later we were back in the town centre, parked outside the Oasis Mall, and as she switched off the engine and prepared to have her say, I tried to open the car door - but to no avail. "I hope your little trip in my lovely birthday present, resprayed and looking as pristine as that prissy pink flowered dress you are wearing has scared the panties off you young man?" I was so relieved I was only too glad to nod my curly locks in assent, but she hadn't finished with me yet. "I expect wearing such pretty clothes gives you as much pleasure as I get from my car." - I continued to placate her. - "Yes Mrs. Kelly, they do, but not at the moment!" She smiled with grim satisfaction at my reply as I wriggled uncomfortably as the dampness I had felt on my bottom began to sting and I realised the pungent smell in her car was bleach. I soon discovered I was sitting on a thin layer of rubber sponge evidently soaked in the stuff, which was laid on a thick layer of plastic to protect the seat from further damage and she read the look of horror in my face as I whined, - "Please Mrs.Kelly, let me out now, my bottom feels very sore." I think you have learn't your lesson Wendy don't you? - but first let me hear you say you 'promise to be a good little girl' from now on." By now I had unfastened my seat belt and was desperately twisting and squirming to try to ease the irritation I was feeling in my nether regions as I readily blurted - "Yes Mrs. Kelly, I will be a good little girl from now on so please let me out!" She handed me my ballet bag and released the central locking mechanism, thereby allowing me to make an unseemly exit from her car, but minus my hat, to be followed by a quick dash, for the ladies loo in the shopping mall in order to try and ease the pain I was now suffering.

By the time I reached the 'ladies' I was in a dreadful state with tears streaming down my face as I rushed past a middle-aged lady powdering her nose and goodness knows what else and on into one of the cubicles, ripping off my lovely dress the hem of which was soaked right through at the back with large white patches of bleach. My pink panties and ballet tights were in a similar state, so I hastily stepped out of them both and dumped them in the waste bin, although fortunately the tunic top of my leotard which had a tiny skirt attached to the hem, had ridden up under my sun dress as I wriggled about in the car seat, so at least I was still wearing one article of clothing which seemed to be still dry and undamaged. Suddenly there was a 'tap-tap' at the door,- "Are you all right in there young lady? - can I be of any assistance? - do you need a pad?" It must have been the old dear hovering outside, as I moaned and groaned with pain, but I had no wish to be a victim of her concern over what she assumed was my first period, so I assured her I was okay and fortunately she took me at my word and I heard her shuffling away. My bottom, and even my thighs and legs were by now were red raw from the bleach dripping from my knickers, so I decided to wash my tender skin with loo paper dipped in the toilet bowl,- hardly hygienic but the only relief available to me, since I wasn't prepared to stand in the open and wash my butt and privates in a wash basin possibly with a constant stream of women and girls coming and going!

I was now in a quandry, since I was now completely bare from the hem of my tiny skirt right down to my platform shoes, so when I had dried off I pulled down the skirt of my ballet tunic to try to hide my nether regions, picked up my ballet bag and stepped gingerly out of the cubicle and into the empty wash room before checking myself over in the vanity mirror. I looked fairly decent from the front, - until that is I stepped forward and the hem flared up to reveal my bright red willy - hardly something I ever wished to see again! I then stood sideways onto the mirror and only had to lean forward ever so slightly for the scarlet cheeks of my bottom to put in a surprise appearance, topped by an unsightly discolouration in the hem of the skirt of my ballet tunic, so I could hardly venture far in such a state with bright red sores visible down both legs, therefore an undignified dash for home in the half light was out of the question, so with my ballet bag stuffed under my arm and my hands keeping a firm grip on the hem of my tunic I minced out of the ladies, and without looking either right or left, shuffled through the shopping mall as slowly and daintily as I dare, praying an updraught didn't catch me unawares as I made my way to the nearest phone booth in order to summon help.

Twenty minutes later and I was having a cool shower in the bathroom while in the rest of the house the temperature was at boiling point, Dad having declared war on the Kellys as he telephoned Uncle George, a prominent lawyer in Lincolns Inn Fields, requesting he prepare a civil and criminal case alleging abduction, common assault, and criminal damage on behalf of poor little me against the Kelly woman! Mother, on the other hand was more circumspect, since she realised I would have to be examined in order to supply the medical evidence, be interviewed by the police and possibly the social services, and furthermore, support the evidence in open court under cross examination! But all that Daddy could see was a big fat cheque bouncing onto our front doormat and to hell with the implications; thanks to his loud mouth and my stupidity I had made big hole in his bank balance , so now it was payback time!

And so it was an hour later after my bath and after Mummy had kitted me out in a brand new lavender satin nighty and treated me to supper in my bedroom, that I was sitting up in bed reading my latest Harry Potter book when I had a surprise visit from Doctor Fleming. He looked equally as askance when he was ushered into the room by Mummy and after a friendly - "Hello my dear, and what is the matter with you young lady?" - he then hesitated before continuing, diving into his bag for my case notes - "Oh I do apologise for my faux pas Billy, but you do look very nice in your nightdress, and the name 'Billie' did throw me somewhat." His matter of fact manner mean't my face was now as puce as my bottom, then Mummy cut in - "There is no need to apologise to Wendy, Doctor, she doesn't mind, - when she grows up she would like to be a prima ballerina!" He looked at me and smiled broadly, - "Perhaps you are rather young to worry about such things, but I do hope you make it my dear, my daughter Jane has similar aspirations when she completes her transition. By-the-by, are you the Wendy who was unfairly sent back from France by Madame Olga?" I suddenly realised our doctor was none other than Jane Fleming's father and a very useful ally, so having set the record straight and thanked him for the compliment I willingly laid back and prepared for my medical examination. "Yes, the skin damage is quite extensive, particularly round your penis and testes, but surgical removal is un-necessary at this moment in time, - that can come later!" Mother didn't totally approve of his little jest as he wrote out a prescription for antibiotics and a special skin cream to use on my penis before fitting a tight elastic bandage around my scrotum to ease the pain before allowing me to pull down my nighty and snuggle down into my bed just as Dad came into the room. "Do we have a case against that woman for damages doctor?" Doctor Fleming studied my father through his glasses, -"The skin damage will heal up in a week or two, so do you really want to put Wendy through such a traumatic experience as a court case Mr. Fielding? - it will be in all the tabloids, she will have to make formal statements to police and lawyers and the newshounds will have a field day at her expense." I think Dad was quite shocked to hear the doctor refer to me in the female gender but it seemed to harden his resolve as he snarled. "Mrs. Kelly is going to pay for what she has cost me and done to my sissy son - and I won't let her get the better of me!

I think my doctor came to regret his little joke, because instead of healing, at the end of the first week the pain was getting worse and I was carted off to hospital to be poked and prodded by various consultants. The prognosis was that the elastic bandage had been too tight and left in place too long and had cut off the blood supply, so both my testicles were infected and the infection had spread to such an extent that I would require extensive and immediate surgery to put things to rights. "You won't be siring any children young man" - was the urologist's verdict. With this piece of news Mummy took the woman on one side and after an earnest conversation with her returned to my bedside. - "Tell me darling, - what is at the top of your wish list?" I had only one answer to that as I whispered - "To be turned into a young girl like Melissa and grow into a pretty lady like you Mummy!" - She smiled serenely and despite the look of horror on Dad's face she trotted back to the surgeon to deliver my reply!

Despite Dad's concerns about what would happen to me when I grew up,trapped as I would be in my reconstructed body, and whether I would be treated as a freak, he eventually gave up the fight, suddenly realising Doctor Fleming would also be hearing from Uncle George. "But what about his grandparents? - They don't even know what has happened to Billy!" Dad was quite right, just in case they should have called round unexpectedly, they had already been told in confidence that I was being punished by the school, and because of the serious nature of my misdemeanours, made to attend the girls' classes, which had Grandpa Fielding in raptures, especially when he learned I was dressed as one, and although I had never seen him cross-dressed, he had been a frequent visitor to see what I looked like and how I was getting along, giving me useful hints and plying me with little knick knacks for my wardrobe, much to mother's annoyance and he was eventually banned from calling until invited to do so! As the result my more recent adventures as Wendy had been kept under wraps in the hope that I would outgrow my little problem, so all four were wheeled into hospital to say fond farewells to their favourite grandson before it was my turn to be wheeled off for surgery!

Four weeks later Daddy was even more aghast when the tabloids carried the following story: 'Twelve year old Miss Wendy Fielding was discharged from hospital today after the first stage of extensive sex reassignment surgery as the result of alleged medical incompetence following an alleged criminal assault during her forced abduction from outside her home just over five weeks ago. Looking pretty as a picture, she is wearing a pink flowered dress and cradled in her arms are 'Vanessa', her favourite dolly and a beautiful bouquet of red roses , as accompanied by her parents and her older sister Melissa, she made her way by taxi to her home. Wendy, who lives in Henley, and was formerly known as Billy, required extensive surgery following the unprovoked attack by her next door neighbour as retaliation for having had her new car daubed with paint stripper by Miss Fielding. The neighbour, a Mrs Angela Kelly, is currently on bail awaiting trial for the alleged offence. The twelve year old girl will be returning to King's School next week and resuming her place in form 3g and she tells us she is also looking forward to continuing her ballet lessons with Madame Olga Somers. Even when she was a small boy, she had always wanted to be a prima ballerina, 'it looks as though some little boys wishes do come true', she added wistfully!'

I was so pleased with the results of the operation and that the pain I suffered was bearable, while the most striking change was to my voice, which much to my disgust had already began to wobble uncertainly, - but from now on the timbre would be that of a soprano, so when I answered the phone for the first time after my return from hospital the voice at the other end asked - "Melissa? Is that you dear?" I was well chuffed as I replied, "No Auntie Rita, it's Wendy!" - There was a deathly silence before she snorted down the phone - "OH - It's you! - Is your mother there?" From her tone I knew it would be some time before I could play games with my little cousins again, - but what the hell! - I was now a girl called Wendy - and no longer a young liar but a young lady and that was all that mattered to me!

Even though I had missed another charity concert with the opportunity to be partnered by one of the boys, a week after leaving hospital I was well enough to attend Miss Jones's white wedding at St.Marks church. As a special surprise for the bride, we were all fitted out in ballet costumes by Madame to form 'guard of honour' after the service. Most of the girls were 'swans', peasant girls from 'Ma fille mal garde' and a sprinkling of 'Giselles', but strangely enough, Pauline and Jane were in 'ugly sister' outfits, so when challenged Pauline's smug reply was "But we always look pretty, now we can look pretty ugly!" The 'Sleeping Beauty' dress had been reserved for me as a special treat to compensate for the misfortune I had suffered over recent months, my lovely long hair being pinned up in a roll and decorated with a tiny golden tiara, but I really did feel something special after Daddy complimented me upon how wonderul his 'new daughter' looked. So after the wedding ceremony was over, we trooped out of the church hand in hand and two by two, and armed with canes decorated with multi-coloured satin ribbons, formed a triumphal arch beneath which the beautiful bride and her groom processed into the churchyard for the formal photographs. When we arrived in the ballet studio for the reception, Madame insisted we should change into our party dresses, since young girls in flimsy ballet outfits and black-currant juice or coca-cola don't mix. But we still had a lovely time all the same, as we raced to see who could drain the most from the grown-ups' alchoholic left-overs without getting caught. I didn't even remember fainting or being sick over my pale lavender satin party dress until waking up in bed the following morning, then realising that leftovers and hangovers don't mix either, - at least not for little girls like me!


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