Re-creation

by

Linda de Burge

Part 2

I guess we should known we would not present the right influences. The boy had two mothers for a start. He was raised in a home with powerful feminine overtones.

He asked about his father soon after he started school and we made lame excuses. His father had left me soon after he was born. Janie was my sister, come to live with us. He believed that when he was young and naive.

When he played dress ups as a six year old it was always in one of our dresses, trailing the hem along behind him, clip-clopping in too large high heels. We looked at each other with raised eye brows but laughed along with his antics. He wanted to play with make up at the age of ten. A year later we began to find things out of place in our bedroom or wardrobe. Items of clothing, shoes, trinkets. We knew it had to be Allie - Alan actually - but we said nothing to each other at the time. Even if we had admitted it to each other we had no idea how to broach the subject despite our own experiences.

But we found a way. At least, Janie did. Soon after his twelfth birthday he made the fatal mistake of forgetting to replace a pair panties at all. They were lying on the bed when she went in there soon after dinner one night. Allie was in his room doing his homework. Janie walked right in.

"Allie if you want to wear our clothes and shoes and stuff just say so," she annonced and left again.

It was an hour before he appeared in the living room looking very sheepish and innocent.

"What did you mean, Janie? In my room."

She softened then. "Allie we know you’ve been playing around with our clothes. We know, darling. If you want to wear those kinds of things just say so and well talk about it."

"I don’t know what you mean..." he protested.

"Yes you do sweet. But you don’t have to talk about it now. Think about it and then come to us."

It was three weeks before he did. He came into the living room one night and sat between us, eyes cast down.

"I have been wearing your clothes," he said.

We took a hand each. "We know," we said, almost in unison. "Do you know why," Janie asked.

"No. I just like it, what they feel like and how I look."

"Well that’s okay, sweetie," I said. "It’s not nearly such an unnatural thing to do as you might think."

He looked up at me. "It’s not?"

"No. There’s really a very fine line between boys and girls and some people feel the need to cross that line from time to time. I can assure you lots of boys do it...and lots of girls too. Some even do it permanently."

"They do?"

"Sure." I decided to bite the bullet now. "You actually know a couple."

He went wide eyed at that. "I do?"

"Yes you do. Our friend Honey is one."

"Honey is a boy?"

"No Honey is a girl. But she was born a boy."

"Oh my gosh! That’s incredible."

"It seems incredible but, as I said, it’s not all that uncommon. Who’s the other one?"

I glanced across at Janie who raised her eyes heavenward but gave a little nod.

"You’re sitting next to her. Janie was a male for the first twenty six years of her life."

He turned to Janie, who at thirty nine was still looking fresh and youthful and beautiful. His mouth was agape and he sort of fell back against the divan. We sat, all three of us, in silence for a long moment. Janie and I were watching him to see what would happen next but we were not quite prepared for the reaction. His face clouded over in thought a moment and then he turned to Janie.

"Are you...are you my...father?"

Janie nodded. "Yes," she said, very softly.

We told him the full story then just as it was outlined in the first part of this narrative. He listened attentively, unspeaking, until we concluded.

"Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you say my father went away?"

"He did go away in a way," I said. "He was replaced by Janie. But in any event we couldn’t tell you until you were old enough to understand."

"I guess not," he said. Then he turned to Janie and put his arms around her, awkwardly from where he was sitting, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for telling me now."

"So you see," I went on, "we can hardly condem you for wanting to dress as a girl. You’ve been surrounded by women all your life. I imagine females are your role models. And you have, er, certain genes."

He nodded. "So you’re saying I can wear a dress if I want to?"

I laughed. "Darling you’ve been wearing dresses since you were six, if you recall, and playing with make up since you were ten. There’s nothing new about it. But our clothes are hardly suitable. I guess we’ll have to buy you some of your own."

"Oh God! That would be so, so wonderful. I know exactly what I want."

"You do?" Janie exclaimed.

"Sure. Can I show you?"

He raced off and came back with two copies of "Teen" magazine. We thumbed through them together. A large number of items - dresses, skirts, tops, shoes - were circled with a pen.

"Well!" I remarked. "I suspect you’re going to be expensive."

"But you have good taste," Janie added.

  

Backtracking a little, we still lived in the same house outside town. I had continued with my painting through the years and from time to time I sold one or two but not for a lot of money. Janie, on the other han, had shown herself to be a dab hand with investments - a male thing I suspect - and had moved our money around very effectively, showing a good profit every year. So we were still comfortably well off.

Our friends had changed and moved on over the yearsm as they do, but Honey was still around. She never did get it on with Margaret who’s now living in another town and she’s alone but not unhappy. We’d had a happy life, with occasional vacations in Hawii or Aspen, that sort of thing. And there was no way we were going to allow what was happening with Allie to change anything. Except for him maybe. Allie, incidentally, is what we’ve always called him, just an affectionate version of Alan.

Before he wwent to bed that night Janie and he had a little chat by way of laying some ground rules. This was to be, for the time being, our secret. Who would know and when would be our collective decision. He was not a sissy kind of boy and we anticipated little or no trouble at school but we warned him about sissy behavior and bullying.

"Just be yourself," Janie said. "Nothing can happen at school which would be likely to cause you any grief. Have your friends, even the close ones, but tey must never know. Okay."

Allie nodded.

"And you must never go out dressed without us."

"Go out?"

"Yes. Don’t worry about that now but you’ll want to do it I can assure you. In so far as when you do it, anytime you feel like it at home. Weeknights, weekends, whenever."

"You mean I can just come home from school and put on a dress?"

"Yes."

"Wow!"

Janie turned to me. "Is tomorrow a convenient time for us to go shopping?"

"Sure," I shrugged.

Allie went to be a happy boy, I suspect.

 

 

We did go shopping the next day and we took Allie’s copies of "Teen" with us and, so far as they were available, we bought everything he’d circled. Plus, of course, underwear, pantyhose, nightwear, a house gown, make up and some small items of teen jewellery. And a wig. Allie wore his dark blonde hair quite short. We bought him a nape length bob in his natural color in real hair. And we bought him a hip length jacket for going out on cool nights. Just in case. Which we both knew he would use. Before long.

"I’m kind of looking forward to seeing our daughter," Janie said on the way home.

"So am I. It’s a bit sexy. As it always is, blending the genders. Do you imagine it will be an erotic experience for him?"

"I’m sure of it."

"How do we handle that?"

"We don’t handle it. He does...if you’ll excuse the expression."

I grinned. "Naughty."

"Lovely," he replied.

"No doubt."

 

 

We were eager with anticipation when Allie arrived home. It was genuinely exciting imagining what was about to happen. We laid all the things we had bought, in profusion, on his bed and when he came in we got our usual greeting and went off to drop his briefcase. He was back in the living room five minutes later with a high color.

"I think Santa Claus has been," he said.

"You’re happy then?" I asked.

"Oh yes."

"Would you like to try something then?" Janie asked.

"Yes please."

"Do you need some help?"

"If you don’t mind I’d like to try by myself. This time."

"Of course. Come and show us when you’re done."

He was back half an hour later looking so delectable I almost peed my pants. He was wearing a tight fitting, white T top - with one of the padded bras we’d bought under it, of course - a short, white flippy skirt decorated with big pink roses, tan pantyhose and little heeled white courts. The wig - we were very smart there - suited him perfectly and he had used, so far as I could tell, just lipstick, the same shade as the roses. I felt a surge of pride. If we’d had a natural daughter I would have hoped she would be as pretty as this one.

"Wow!," Janie remarked. "Holy heck, Allie you look just gorgeous."

"I...I don’t know how to use make up. I just used lipstick."

"It’s enough for now honey," I commented, "and Janie is right. You look beautiful."

"Thank you Mommy. I feel...a little strange."

"In what way, sweets?"

"I don't know exactly. Like I’m someone else. I looked in the mirror and I wasn’t there. This girl was there instead."

"Come and sit down Allie."

He sat on the easy chair opposite us.

"You have to smooth your skirt under you before you sit Pet," Janie said. "Otherwise it gets all bunched up and creased."

He stood up and smoothed the skirt. He had lovely, lovely legs and he was showing us a lot of them. But he had the instinctive sense to keep his knees toether.

"Otherwise, are you okay?"

"Oh I feel so wonderful I could burst."

"I rather thought you might," Janie grinned. "Well, you’re a girl right now. I don’t think we have to change your name though, do you?"

"No. It’s fine. Can I do this everyday? Really?"

"If you want to, yes."

"Oh I want to."

"Except when we’re going out somewhere. Even then...maybe later. When you’ve perfected a few things. But never alone. Remember that."

He nodded.

"Janie did you have these feelings when you were...a boy?"

"I think I did but I didn’t recognise them. I was twenty six before I wore a dress for the first time."

"You said. Last night. I’m lucky then aren’t I?"

"Very lucky. But you’ve got a lot of soul searching to do over the next few years."

"I guess."

"Just enjoy it for the time being," I said. "Do you have homework?"

"Yes."

"Go and get started then. We’ll get some dinner."

He got up and left the room, the skirt swishing over his cute behind.

"He’s too pretty," I said to Janie. "I doubt he’ll take a backward step from here on."

"I know."

 

 

And he didn’t. For the next four years he just kept evolving and developing. Neither of us knew how he kept up the facade at school but there was never a hint of scandal. School and school outings were the only times he was a boy. He was so desperate to let his hair and finger nails grow and pluck his eyebrows to a more defined shape but he kept it down. Once he was comfortable in the role we went out often. As girls do he wore more padding, higher heels, more make up, got sassier. But he never had a close girlfriend...or boyfriend. He kept to himself.

He acquired an enviable wardrobe and knew and understood clothes and style well. He could draw, as I could, and he drew fashions and I think we had a hint of what he might do after school. At fifteen he asked for a sewing machine and taught himself to sew and thereafter, made his own clothes.

"I can’t go to the prom," he said one night. "But I can make the dress I would wear if I could."

And he made a beautiful gown, strapless in rose pink satin and he wore it just for us. It was kind of sad so when we recieved an invitation to a gallery opening where formal wear was required we took him along and he got to wear his prom dress.

The gallery director, Kelly Rodgers, insisted on knowing where he...she..got it and when Allie told her she had designed and made it herself she then insisted Allie come and see her when she finished school.

She simply refused to go on to school after she turned sixteen and who could argue. Enough was enough. We had a little ceremony in the yard and burned her...his...school clothes.

Allie has inherited, of course, from both Janie and me, which meant she was of moderate height and slim and practically hairless on body and face. Once she had the green light she began to grow her hair and as soon as it was long enough to style she had it set and the small amount of hair on her face removed. Even the girls at the salon did not know she was not really a girl. The facial hair was so fine.

Wig disposed of, facial hair gone she pushed for boobs and we made the arrangements. So at seventeen she was, almost, the complete and lovely young woman. At which time she went to see Kelly Rodgers who enthusiasticlly set her up with a friend who ran an art and design school. Our daughter, it seemed, was on her way.

But it still came as a surprise when she started dating boys. We had, not unreasonably, though she would be like Janie. We did not, early in the piece, meet any of these boys and although we knew she was dating them she played her cards pretty close to her chest. We did not exactly disapprove but we played a waiting game. We wondered how she was handling the sex. If she was at all.

She graduated at nineteen and got a well paid job as a junior designer and cutter. And a month later we met her latest and most serious boy friend. Boy were we floored. He was almost as glamorous and lovely as Allie was. But in a very different way.

"Mommy, Janie, this is Tony," she said, holding his hand protectively and smiling.

"Hello," Tony said.

"Tony works in the adjoining studio to me." She looked at him lovingly.

"I reckon he’s the next Valentino."

"Hello Tony," Janie said. "It’s nice to meet you."

"Me too," I added, lamely. I was too busy taking him in.

He was tall, probably six feet, slim, maybe skinny. He had blonde hair, almost white, quite long, tightly drawn back from his face and tied in a pony tail held with a tortoise shell clasp. He was wearing eye make up, I was sure of that, but not lipstick. He was extemely good looking. He wore a black suit with a pale grey, very fine pinstripe, buttoned with a single button, low down. He wore no shirt but a of wide banded necklace of black stones of some kind. The pants were slim cut. His legs, so far as I could tell were bare and on his feet, wide banded leather sandals. His finger nails and toe nails were lacquered black. He was most exotic to say the least.

"Come in. Sit down," I suggested.

They did so and Janie asked. "I imagine you designed your own outfit Tony?"

"Yes," he grinned. "I do both girl’s and boy’s clothes but I can’t see why girls should have all the fun."

"I agree entirely," Janie said. "If this is the way male clothes are going I approve."

He smiled good naturedly. "I don’t think my clothes are for everyone."

"Well they certainly work for you Tony," I said.

"Isn’t he scrumptious?" Allie said.

"Could I get you something" A glass of wine, maybe?"

"That would be lovely."

"Me too, Mommy," Allie said. "We can’t stay long. We’re going out to dinner. To, er. Celebrate."

I was at the bar by now pouring drinks. "Celebrate?" I heard Janie say.

"Yes," Allie said, breathlessly. "I have agreed to, sort of, marry Tony."

There was a short silence. "Sort of?" Janie said.

"Well we can’t really married can we? We want to have a committment ceremony of some kind."

I brought the wine glasses. "Is’nt this a little sudden?" I asked stupidly really, bearing in my how little time Janie and I kneweach other before we committed.

"Mom. We’ve been dating for over two years. We met while I was at art school."

I must have looked puzzled because she went on. "There never have been boys, plural. Only Tony."

So there it was. Full cycle really. Me and my sister - girls together. Me and Janie - a girl and a boy. Now Allie and Tony - two boys. Oh how the genders blend, combine.

We agreed, of course, what else could we do. We agreed to hold a small party/reception at our home and Tony and Allie went off to their city apartment to live, hopefully, in wedded bliss. We surmised there would be no grandchildren.

Within a month of the wedding Janie and I decided to take a real vacation and booked for Europe.

On the plane the strangest thing happened. A woman, about thirty, pretty in a tarty way, came down the isle after us. She was clutching the hand of a child, maybe ten years old. The child was dressed in a T top, mini skirt, shiny pantyhose and high heels its face in full make up. Janie looked at me and I looked at her and we started laughing and had to cover our faces tgo keep the noise down.

De ja vue?

 

 

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© 2002 by Linda de Burge. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.