Tango Golf, Cop with a Difference!  

    ã2004 Tanya J. Allan

 

This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.  Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone.  Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.

The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone.  If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.

 

Unfortunately no politicians, lawyers or parking attendants were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.

 

If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me.  If you hated it, Email me and lie.

I will always welcome contact.

 

tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk

 

The legal stuff.

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically.  Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose.  Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

 

Synopsis.

 

 “Tango – Golf”

Cop with a difference

 

By

 

Tanya Jane Allan

 

1.

 

 

 

“Sheridan!  You get your lazy ass back here, and clean up your room.”

I swore silently and returned to my room.  Mom was standing there with her hands on her hips.

“I told you that you don’t go out until this room is clean.”

“Mom. I’ve done it.”

“What you’ve done and what I want done are two different things.  Now, you do it so I like it.”

I knew an argument was pointless, so I just got down to it.

Like all ten year olds, I did not appreciate chores, and as the youngest of five, I seemed to get the most menial.

My oldest brother, John J., was in the Air Force, just like my Dad, but he was a weapons technician based at an Air base in the UK.  Rod, his next younger brother was back home in the States at college. Then there was William, he was seventeen and at the US High school here in Italy.  Melanie, my sister, who was only two years older than me, was at the same high school, and that left me at the bottom of the pile.

I was due to change schools soon, and found it a real drag.  I had been to six schools in as many years, as Dad had been moved about a lot.

We about to move to Germany, as Dad was a senior NCO in the USAF Security Police.  He loved his job, but kept threatening to leave and join his brother, Uncle Lou, who was a cop in a small town in Oregon.

I had been about four when I realised that I wanted to be a cop too, and this had caused great mirth amongst the family.  Less so, when I announced that I also wanted to be a girl.  I had tried being a boy, and it sucked.  I wanted pretty clothes, and dolls and stuff, and Mom kept catching me wearing Melanie’s clothes.

Melanie and I were real close, and when we had the house to ourselves we did girl stuff together.  She thought it cool to dress me up and I loved it.  As we got older, I still craved to be a girl, but the opportunities to dress and be a girl became less and less.

I would dress up as a girl at every opportunity, Halloween, fancy dress parties, carnivals, you name it, if there was dressing up involved, I went as a girl.  So much so that most people who met me thought I was a real girl.

Mom found it sweet, but was a little concerned.  My Dad was the typical macho father, and he would shout and swear whenever they caught me, which, I had to confess, was almost every week.  I was hardly subtle, and was dragged off to have makeup washed off my face at least three times a month.

I think Dad became resigned that he had three sons, one daughter and me.  I was eleven when he caught me in a mini skirt, high heels, a Melanie’s training bra, and a sparkly top.  I had full make up on my face, and had even braided my long fair hair.  The event? A fancy dress Christmas Party, a month away.

He took me into his den, and sat me down.  He said nothing for a while.  He was in uniform, and his badges and stripes looked real cool.  I liked the blue cravat and his beret.

“Shit, Sheridan, what do you think you look like?”

I looked down at my painted nails and sexy legs.

“A girl?” I ventured.

He smiled and shook his head.  They had tried psychologists and doctors, and none of them could help.  Because we kept moving a lot, I tended not to make friends, and would simply do my own thing, and usually with Melanie and her friends.

“Yeah, but you ain’t a girl.  So this has got to stop.”

“Why do I feel like a girl, Dad?”

He stared at me, and his face softened.

“Hell, I don’t know.  We always treated you the same as the others.”

“It isn’t what you’ve done or not done, Dad.  This comes from inside me. I just know I should have been a girl.  I just got the wrong body.”

“I’ve been reading about that.  Hell, you don’t half make things difficult.”

I cried then, as I didn’t want to make things difficult.

“Look, don’t cry.  I’m not angry with you.  I’m hurt and confused because I don’t understand.  Part of the problem is that you look damn good as a girl, and I guess I feel you shouldn’t,” he said, with a little smile.

I smiled then, he’d never said anything like this before, as normally he shouted and sent me to my room.

“To be honest, I just don’t know what to do any more,” he said with a big sigh.

He stood up and walked to the window.

“You have to go to the high school soon.  They will have you for breakfast, you know that?”

I was dreading High School, as I was only too well aware of how fags and fairies got treated.

He turned and looked at me.

“If I gave you the choice, you could be a boy with no hidden desire to be a girl, or a girl, and no way back to being a boy.  Which would you take?”

“A girl, Dad, no contest,” I said without hesitation.

He nodded.

“Okay.  But for now, go up and take that crap off.  If Melanie looked like a tart, I’d tell her the same thing.  Okay?”

“Yes Dad,” I said and stood up to do what he had asked.

“Sheridan?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“I really can’t deal with this.  We need help, so hang in there.”

“Okay Dad.”

“And, I love you, whatever the hell you are,” he said with a smile.

I turned and ran to him and he hugged me.

“Just promise me one thing?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Never make me ashamed of you.  Whatever happens, keep your dignity.”

“I promise.”

He smiled.

“Go on, we don’t intend to stop you wearing girl’s clothes any more.  There is no point, but be sensible, and when school comes, you wear pants, and not skirts.  And no make up.  Okay?”

“Yes, Dad, and thanks.”

I went to the party as a pirate.

 

Life got better, a bit.

I dressed in pants and shorts, but they were girl’s pants and shorts, and Mom even bought me some pretty tee shirts and tops.  I wore trainers and girl’s shoes, but they didn’t look that different to boy’s stuff.  I kept my hair long, and everyone in the family called me Sherri. The very few people who knew me of old knew I was a boy, but those who didn’t assumed I was a girl.  No one ever said anything, and I went through life as something in the middle.

The kids were wary of me.  Boys treated me as a girl, and girls didn’t quite know how to treat me.  I didn’t make friends, but I was happier now I didn’t have to try to be a boy so hard.

The joke was, for some time, even the principal thought I was a girl, and I had a doctor’s letter to keep me off sports, but when I did join in with the others, I just seemed to be naturally drawn in by the girls.  I just went with the flow, and tried to keep my head down and never deliberately set out to make anyone notice me.

The school I went to was for US service kids and I was teased quite a bit.  I was not averse to using my fists, and although I looked like a girl, I could punch like a boy. As I had yet to move up to Junior High. I was big enough to look after myself, and gender, sex and appearance were slightly less crucial than junior high. 

One lunch break, I was sitting by myself when three girls came over to me. I knew them by sight, the taller one was called Marianne

“Sherri, how come you dress like you do?”

“How do I dress?”

“Like a geek.  You never wear a dress or a skirt, you always try to look like a boy.  Are you a lesbian?”

I started to laugh, as I don’t think she really knew what a lesbian was.

“Why do you want to know, do you want a kiss?” I asked.

They made the expected disgusted noises, and Marianne and another girl ran away calling me a lesbian at the top of their voices.

“Sherri’s a lesbo. Sherri’s a lesbo.”

I just smiled and shook my head.

They all left except one girl.  She was a small girl, quite pretty with long fair hair, and she was wearing a dress that I would have liked to be allowed to wear.

She sat beside me.  I think her name was Shelly.

“Are you a lesbian?” she asked.

“What if I was?”

She shrugged.

“Do you know what a lesbian is?” I asked her.

She looked at me sharply, and then looked around the schoolyard to see if anyone was close by.

She then shook her head.

I sighed.

“Shelly, a lesbian is a girl who is sexually attracted to other girls instead of boys.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked shocked.

“And before you ask, no I’m not,” I said.

“Why do they think you are?” she asked.

“Because I am not the same as them.”

She frowned.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Shelly, how long have you known me?” I asked.

“Two semesters, why?”

“Do you think you know anything about me?”

She shook her head.

“Not much, you don’t mix like the others. And a lot of the kids seem to tease you an awful lot.”

“If you knew why, you might understand why kids don’t mix with me.”

She stared at me, and I could tell part of her was afraid, and part of her was fascinated.  I was fed up of being lonely, and never having any friends.

“What do I look like to you?” I asked.

“An eleven year old girl who dresses like a boy.”

I nodded.

“Fine, then lets just keep it like that, okay?”

“But what makes you different?”

I looked at her, and then around the playground.  I was leaving in a couple of weeks, and I couldn’t wait.

“Shelly, I am different because I don’t like being what I am, and want to be something else.  It makes my life tough with bigots like Marianne around.”

“What’s a bigot?”

I started to laugh.

“You know there are people who don’t like other people for silly reasons like the colour of their skin?”

“Yeah,” she said, guardedly.

“Well a bigot is someone who forms a strong opinion about someone else, or a group of people because of the way they look or what someone else has said about them, whether it is true or not.  They are stupid, dangerous people, who make other people unhappy and often cause terrible things to happen.”

“Oh.  So why do they say things about you?  You look fine to me.  Perhaps if you wore better clothes, like Marianne said, people wouldn’t pick on you.”

“You mean like dresses, and skirts and stuff like that?”

“Yeah, and maybe make your hair look pretty.”

“Thanks Shelly. I’d really like to, but then my parents would freak out, and those that know me would make my life even worse than it already is.”

“Why?”

“I think it is probably because I am a boy.”

She stared me for a while.

“Come on, you are never a boy?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

She shook her head, but at least she smiled.

“Okay, then you are the first person I’ve told.  The teachers know, or some of them do.”

“But Mrs Harris treats you like a girl.”

“They all do, Shelly.  They know that I respond if I’m treated like that.”

“You said you don’t want to be a boy?”

“No, I want to be a girl, because inside I am.”

The bell went, and we had to go back to class.  I sensed she still didn’t believe me, and I didn’t care at all.

When we got out at the end of school, she was waiting for me at the bus stop.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“Can I sit with you?”

I shrugged.

“I ain’t contagious.”

She laughed.

“You are funny.”

“Ha-ha,” I said, and she smiled.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh dear, is that safe?”

She looked sharply at me, and then laughed.

“No, probably not,” she said, and grinned.

I was surprised, as here was someone with a sense of humour. How amazing.

We leaned up against the wall together.

“You live just down the street from me, don’t you?” she asked.

I had seen her with her family a few times, and so I nodded.

“Do you want to come round for a while after school?”

“What now?”

“Yeah, and maybe stay for supper?”

“You want me to come round your house?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“I dunno.  No one ever asked me before.”

“What, never?”

I shook my head.

She looked at me with a weird expression.

“Hey, I am house trained, honest.”

She laughed, and the bus arrived, and we all piled on.

The journey took twenty minutes, and I walked with her to her house.  Her mom was hanging up the washing, and Shelly took me out to see her.

“Mom, This is Sherri.  Can she hang out for a while?”

“Sure, as long as her mother knows where she is.  Do you want to stay for supper, Hun?” she asked me.

“Um, sure, yeah, I guess, thanks,” I said.  I was still reeling because of the use of the word ‘she’ constantly and without question.

“Come on, you’d better ring your mom,” Shelly told me, so I did.

My mother was bemused and pleased that finally I seemed to have made a friend.  She knew exactly where I was, and told me to behave.

“My Mom is fine with this,” I said, and Shelly grinned and grabbed my hand, pulling me upstairs to her room.

It was a cool room, a little too lacy and frilly, even for my tastes, but it was a real girl’s room.

“I want to see you dressed properly,” she announced.

“Huh?”

“You said you want to be a girl, so we are gonna make you into one.”

I grinned, now this I could do.

She opened her wardrobe, and I was amazed at how many clothes she owned.

She went rooting about and came out with a pink top, which had a very wide, open collar, which showed one’s shoulders and bra straps, if one had one.  She found as pale blue tight little skirt, pantyhose, and strappy sandals with high heels.

She opened a drawer, and handed me a training bra, and a pair of her tight little panties.

I grinned, and undressed unselfconsciously in front of her.  I was practiced in ‘tucking’ and my genitalia were ‘lost’ very smartly.  I dressed very quickly, and slipped my rolled up socks into my bra to give me some budding breasts. She brushed my hair out as I put on some of her makeup.  I even painted my finger and toenails with some turquoise sparkly varnish.

I was very good at this now, and she gasped when I had finished.

“My God.  There is no way you are a boy,” she said.

I shrugged.

“You saw,” I said.

“No, I didn’t, you were too quick.”

“Do you want to?” I asked.

She hesitated, and then shook her head.

“No, this way I can believe you are a girl.  If I saw it, then I’d know you weren’t and I’d feel strange.”

We spent the next hour or so, doing each other’s hair.  She made mine into braids, and I plaited hers.  We threaded ribbons through, and she put beads onto mine.  We looked really cool.

Her mother shouted for us, so we went downstairs.

“My, you two have been quiet, and I see why now. Sherri, you look so much nicer dressed pretty.  Why do you wear such boyish clothes to school?”

I shrugged.

“I guess, it is easier in the mornings,” I said, not untruthfully.

“Well, I have to go to the mall, are you two coming?”

I looked at Shelly and she grinned.

“Sure, won’t we, Sherri?”

I just nodded, my heart pounding.

“Sure,” I said, at last.

We got into the station wagon, and she drove the short distance to the shopping mall. There was a large NATEX store here for the NATO service families, as well as loads of other stores.

I was in heaven.  I trooped round the shops with Shelly and her mother, knowing that everyone believed I was a girl.  Then my heart sank, for my mother was coming up the aisle towards us.  I saw her eyes look at me and move on, and then flick back, and then she frowned.

We got closer and she started to shake her head.  I was doomed.

“Sherri, are you behaving yourself?” she said to me.

“Hi, Mom. Yeah,” I said, waiting for the explosion.

It never came.

“Hi, I’m Sherri’s mother, you must be Shelly’s mom?” Mom said to Sherry’s mother.

They both laughed at the similarities in our names.

Shelly looked at me, frowning.

We walked off a little way, as the two women nattered.

“You are a girl,” she said accusingly.

“I’m not.”

“Then, how come your Mom is not angry with you, and doesn’t seem surprised at all?”

“Because I’ve been doing this for years.”

She didn’t believe me.

“Do you want me to show you, here and now?”

She looked round, worried.

“No, don’t be gross.”

My mother smiled at me, and walked off, whispering, “Don’t go too far, Honey.”

Shelly heard, and her mouth opened in surprise.

“See?” I said.

Her mother bought us a soda when we finished shopping, and while we were there a couple of boys came over.

“Hi.  We haven’t seen you here before.  Are you at Junior high?” said one.

“Not yet, next semester.” said Shelly.

“No way, man.” said the other boy, “you are way too old.”

We both smiled, and before we could go further, Shelly’s mom called us away.

“Hey, what are your names?” shouted the boys after us.

“Shelly,” said Shelly, and when I didn’t say anything, “And Sherri.”

“See you around girls,” they shouted, and I was suddenly so pleased.

Dinner with the family was okay.  Her elder brother was a real computer geek, and hardly said anything and disappeared to his room straight after supper.

We sat and chatted for ages, and I was so happy to have made a friend.  I said so, and she gave me a hug.

“Sherri?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really a boy?”

“What do you think?”

She shook her head.

“You may have thingies.  But you are no way a boy.”

I smiled, and almost cried.

“Thanks,” I said, and we hugged.

She was the first person, outside the family, to know the truth, and to treat me as a real girl.  We hung out a lot over the next couple of weeks, and Marianne accused us of being lesbian lovers, so whenever we saw her we went about hand in hand, and kissed each other on the lips.

She was the only person I would miss in Italy, and we swapped email addresses, and I promised to write.

 

I was looking forward to moving, as I had few friends, apart from Shelly, and I hoped I could just start afresh and hope that everyone would think I was a girl.  The family was pretty good, John and Rod were rarely around, and Will and Mel accepted that I was different.

Will teased me a little, but he also would come to my rescue occasionally.  He didn’t like having a girly boy as a brother, but he knew that Dad would make his life hell if he abandoned me. 

Melanie was brilliant, and treated me like a little sister.  She helped me dress and I just worshipped the ground she walked on.  She would be forever coming to my aid, and it was tragic when she moved up to senior school.

I got taken to a gender specialist who was a consultant to the US Forces in Italy, and I had several sessions with him.  I never got to hear what he thought, but Dad and Mom didn’t seem to get less worried.

 

We moved to Germany, and a new house, and High School loomed.

The house we had was on base, and it was summer vacation time.  Our school times were different to Europe, as we got longer in the summer, and they got more at Easter and Christmas. There was a large housing estate, and although we could buy or rent a home off base, Dad was saving to buy his ranch in Oregon for when he left the service.

It was June, and the local schools were still going, but the US forces children were on vacation.

John J. and Rod were not with us, so it was just Will, Melanie and I, with our parents.  Will already had a friend he knew on this base and he was off to meet him as soon as the car rolled to a halt.

Dad was not that bothered, as kids tended to get in the way.  He had some guys from the Police Unit come and lend a hand, so Melanie and I sat on the grass and watched. I was in a tee shirt and shorts, and had sandals on my feet.  My hair was long, and I hoped that I looked like a girl.

They were unloading the truck when a girl came from the house over the street.

“Hi.  Just moving in?” she asked. 

She was dark haired with huge brown eyes.  I thought she looked pretty, in an envious sort of way.  I was envious of any girl who was able to be what I wanted to be. She must have been about eleven or so.  She was wearing shorts and a tee shirt, not that different to me.  Melanie was that much older and was wearing a skirt.

“Yeah.  We were in Italy before this,” I explained.

“Cool.  I’ve never been there.  This is our first European posting.”

“I’m Sherri Brewster, and that is my sister, Melanie,” I said.

“Hi.  I’m Carrie Menendez.  It is short for Caroline, and I hate that name so much.  I am so glad some girls have moved in, there are so many boys at High School next year.  It is a real drag.”

“You’re in high school?”

“I start this Fall.  How about you?” she asked.

“The same,” I admitted.

“Cool, we’ll be in the same class.  I was afraid I wouldn’t have any girlfriends to talk to.”

Melanie looked at me and smiled.  I was trying to think of how to tell her the truth when Mom called.

“Melanie, Sherri, come on kids, you can sort out your rooms.”

We stood up and Carrie came with us.

“Can I help?”

“If you want,” Maybe I could find an excuse to tell the girl the truth.

Melanie disappeared to her room and I started to sort through my stuff and put it all away.  As we progressed I realised just how girly I really was.  All my clothes were androgynous, my pictures and stuff were all of boy bands and my collection of beanies was hardly macho.  I did have a cool collection of police patches, and had them on rolled up blankets.

“Wow.  These are so cool.  Is your Dad a cop?”

“Yeah.  USAF SP, he’s a top Sergeant. I want to be a cop too.”

“Really, that’s amazing,” she said.

“So what does your Dad do?”

“He’s a surgeon in the medical wing.  Mom is a theatre nurse.”

“Any brothers and sisters?”

“No, just me.”

“That’s tough.”

“Its not so bad.  I miss having someone to talk to though.  It must be nice having an older sister.”

“Yeah, except she keeps stealing all my clothes,” said Melanie from the doorway.

I stared at Melanie, who laughed and left us alone.  How the hell could I tell her I was a boy now?

We finished my room and went downstairs and Mom gave us some lemonade.

We sat of the way on the porch out as the men struggled with the furniture.

“I like your hair, it has some real cool natural highlights,” she said.

I blushed, as this was the kind of conversation I had always dreamed of.

We chatted away all afternoon, and even went to her room in her house.

Her mother was in the kitchen.  She was a tall woman, with dark Latin looks.

“Mom, this is Sherri.  She’s just moved in over the road.  She starts at the High School same as me. Isn’t that wicked?”

“Hello Sherri, it is nice to meet you.  I am glad that Carrie has a girl of her own age to hang out with at last.  There are so many boys in this area.”

“Oh,” I said.  This was getting way too deep.  I almost summoned the guts to tell them when Carrie dragged me upstairs to her room.

She put on a CD and we lay on the floor looking at her collection of pictures of boy bands and singers.  I had similar tastes to her, and we were quite content for ages.  Finally, I heard her mom shouting.

We went down and found my Mom was there too.  She was drinking a cup of coffee, so that gave me some more time.

Then I heard Mom say words that almost made me faint.

“Well, Sherri is as ready as she ever will be for High School, I just hope the last few unsettled years haven’t put her back too far.”

I stared at her, and she smiled enigmatically. We left them and went home for supper.  Brother Will returned and so I never got a chance to ask Mom what the heck she thought she was doing.

I was getting ready for bed when Mom and Dad appeared and closed my door.  I sat on the bed, and Mom folded into a chair and Dad looked uncomfortable.

“Sherri. You know you saw that doc in Italy.  The specialist who deals with folks who are confused about their genders?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Well, his report came through just before we moved, and your Mom and I have come to an agreement, which we need to talk over with you.”

I looked from one to the other.

“Sweetie.  The doctor says that you have Gender Dysphoria. That means you are convinced you are trapped in the body of the wrong gender.  You are a girl, but wearing the wrong body.” Mom said.

“I know that. So?”

“Yeah, and that’s not all.  Honey, there is a condition called inter-sexed.  That is about one in every five hundred or so has some form of genetic defect with their gender.  They did some tests on you, and they think you might be one of them.”

They both smiled a little sadly.

“We need to deal with it.  There are two ways to deal with it properly.  Firstly, there are treatments that may make you accept your body, and lose the desire to be a girl.  They don’t often work, but each case is different.  The doctor did not feel you would respond to this treatment.

“Which leaves us one choice.  You say you want to be a girl?”

I nodded.

“Then that is what we will try to make happen.  But the law is quite clear on what we can and can’t do for you at your age.” she said.

“Sherri, as hard as it is for us, we recognise that you will never be happy as a boy, and your happiness is the most important thing to us.  So, as from this moment, you are our second daughter, and as far as we are concerned, you always have been.  The consultant is quite clear about the certainty of what you feel, so a letter has been prepared to be sent to the Principal of the High School, setting out your difficulties, and he is will be aware of the fact you will be treated as a girl.  I have a meeting with him near the beginning of the next semester.

“Well, I will have to go through some things with him.  In fact you aren’t alone, I have been told that there are three students with similar problems. One girl who wants to be a boy, and two like you.” Dad said.

“What about sports and showers and all that?”

“We have a meeting with another doctor next week, and if you agree, we are going to start you on a long and not particularly easy road.  By the time school starts in September, you will have started down a one-way path, and you will be excused all sports until it is finished.  As for bathroom facilities, I understand that as long as you respect others privacy, there is no problem with using the girls washrooms and changing rooms.”

I was stunned.

“You see, we knew we couldn’t deal with this, so you are registered with the school as Sherri Ann Brewster and not as Sheridan Andrew.  So, Miss Brewster, how does it feel?” Dad said.

I just sat and cried, and they both hugged me.

Will came in.

“Have you told her?” he asked.

I looked at him.

“You knew?” I asked, amazed.

“Hell, girl, we’ve all known you were really a girl since you first stole Melanie’s dresses. I’d rather have you as a sister than as a fag of a brother,” he said with a grin.

“Besides, you are too pretty to be a boy,” he said, and ducked out as I threw a pillow at him.

I smiled, as it felt real good having them around me, but I was aware that for someone like me, many families refused to accept them.  I suppose it was made easier in that I really did look the part.  I was tall for my age and slim, and had a round face, and I guess I was pretty.  My eyes were blue, with long lashes, and I had a small nose, my mouth was quite wide with full lips.  However, it was my long fair hair which really made the difference. 

 

I went to see the specialist (another one.) and had a full examination with my mother present throughout. He was German, but spoke very good English.

I was asked to get dressed again, and sat as the man explained what was going to happen.

“Firstly, you have not started puberty yet, and that is good.  So, I propose to start you on a mild hormone treatment, which will prevent you becoming like a man.  It will also start things going in a feminine direction, and you will begin to grow breasts, and your figure will develop as a girl.

“These treatments are not reversible after the first few months, and so I need to be clear that this is the path you wish to take.  I have seen the psychologist’s report, and I note that you have been living as a girl for some time.  But there is no going back, and so it is a very serious decision.”

I looked at my mother and she smiled.

“It is what I want,” I said, and he nodded.

“Okay, your parents have signed the necessary consent forms, so then I am going to do a short procedure that simply makes you appear female should you be caught with your pants down.  This is a new procedure and is reversible.  But it means that you will be able to swim and do things with out worrying that a certain something making an embarrassing bulge when you least want it.

“What I do is simply tuck everything away, and bring the skin across and stitch it in place, giving you the appearance of having a vagina. You will be able to pass urine, but you will have to sit as a girl.  You must wash carefully, and as the hormones take effect, you will find that you get little response from your restricted penis.

“There is no way a person of eleven will ever be given full SRS, so we will have to wait a while for the hormone changes to settle down, before we go drastic like that.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked.

He smiled.

“No.  We use local anaesthetic and then you feel a little numb for a couple of hours.”

“Mrs Brewster?”

“Yes?”

“Have you been giving this child any female hormones?”

“No, why?”

“It may be nothing, but Sherri displays more of a female figure than a male one,” he said.

“Have you taken any of your mother’s contraceptive pills?” he asked me.

“I don’t have any.  After our last I had problems and had a hysterectomy.  So I have no need of them, and Melanie is only fourteen,” my mother said.

“Then it may be that young Sherri has already started off her own bat,” the doctor said with a smile.

 

He was right, as I was numb for a couple of hours.  However, I was thrilled with the result.  I knew that they would never conduct the full surgical procedure yet, but this was the next best thing.  He gave me a couple of injections, and while I was numb he inserted a slow release implant into my inner thigh. This would block my male hormones and effectively chemically castrate me.  Then the female hormones would start changing my shape.

I spent ages just staring at my naked crotch.  I knew I still had all my bits, but I couldn’t see them, and if I couldn’t see them, then I knew no one else could.  I ran my hand over the smoothness and smiled, it was starting to make my dream a reality.

It took some getting used to, and I still grinned every time anyone referred to me with the female pronouns, she or her.

Dad was immediately plunged into work, as all bases went on high security alerts because of the raised tensions in the Middle East.   Mom took me, Melanie and Carrie shopping in the nearest town, Mannerheim.  I bought some skirts and tops of my own, and Carrie helped me buy some make up and jewellery.

I saw a really cute short blue denim skirt, with a matching waistcoat, and had to buy it.  I went into the shop and tried them on, and they fitted perfectly.  I kept them on, and stuffed my shorts into a bag.

I managed to persuade Mom to allow me to get my ears pierced, and she even bought me some small earrings and studs. We had some lunch in a small restaurant in the central square, and I noticed a group of boys on bikes watching us.

I guessed they were probably American, as they weren’t in school, and they all looked to be about eleven or twelve.  They were hanging around the fountain and had bought hot dogs from the stall in the corner of the square.

Mom wanted to do some serious shopping so we stayed in the sunshine chatting.

After a while a couple of the boys came over.  These two were a bit older than the others, and the taller one addressed Melanie.

“Hi, you’re American, right?”

“Yeah, does it show?” she replied and the boys laughed.

“I said you were, but they said you two looked very German, what with being tall and blonde,” he said, and then looked at Carrie.

“You look very Spanish,” he said.

“That’s because my Dad’s family is from Mexico.  His name is Carlos Menendez.  I’m Carrie, and these are Melanie and Sherri Brewster.”

The other boys drifted over.

There were about six in the group, and they all looked very similar, with sports shirts and ball caps.  The tall guy introduced himself as Tim Lewis.

“Are you going to the High School this fall?” he asked Melanie.

“Sure, so is my sister and Carrie.”

Tim was far more interested in Melanie, and started asking her all kinds of questions.  I found it funny as he was hitting on her so quickly, I didn’t notice another boy manoeuvre himself next to me.

“Hi. I’m Mikey.  You are Sherri, right?” he said, and I jumped.

He found this funny and laughed, and I got a little cross.  He was a couple of inches shorter than me, and was dressed just like the others.

“Yeah, I’m Sherri,” I said, not exactly gushing with charm.

“Is your old man on the base too?”  he asked, not daunted in the least.

“Yes. Is yours?”

“Yeah, he is in supply.”

“My Dad is an SP Sergeant.”

“A cop, woah.  It wasn’t me,” he said, and burst out laughing as if it was original.  I stared at him and it dawned on him that I did not find him that funny.

“You heard it before, huh?”

“Only a couple of thousand times.”

“Sorry.  So, you two babes starting at the High school this fall, yeah?”

“Babes?” I said, and arched my eyebrow.

This started his friends laughing at him.

“Way to go Mikey, too cool man,” said one of them.

Carrie was laughing.

“Yeah, we are starting this fall.  Sherri and I are both twelve.”

“That’s neat.  We are all starting together,” said another boy.  He was taller than Mikey and he had very short fair hair.  He said little, but had nice eyes that scrunched up when he smiled.

“Is the year group going to be big?” I asked him.

He shrugged.

“Who knows.  Every year it changes as people get moved.  I just hope I get to stay a while before we get moved,” he said. “But I hear that there aren’t that many girls starting.”

“I heard that,” said Carrie.

“All the better for us,” I said, and saw the look that Melanie gave me.

We hung out with the boys for some time, and eventually the boy with the nice eyes came over.  He sat next to me.

“Sherri, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Peter Connors.  My friends call me Pete or Peejay.  My middle name is John.”

“What would you like me to call you?”

He smiled and his eyes did their thing.

“Whatever you like, just not Peter, that’s what my Mom calls me when she is mad.”

“Okay, I like Peejay, it is different.”

“So where were you before this?”

“Shit, where haven’t I been, and only for ten minutes in each place?  Italy last month.  Last year it was Belgium and before that in England.  I haven’t see the States for six years.”

“This is my first time abroad.  My old man is with the legal services.”

“Is he an air force officer or a lawyer?”

“Both, he is a qualified lawyer, and a major in the air force.

“My Dad is only a top sergeant, are you allowed to mix with the riffraff?”

He laughed.

“You don’t look like riffraff to me,” he said, and smiled at me.  I got a funny feeling in my tummy, and looked at Melanie in case she was watching.  She wasn’t.

Mom came back and extricated us from our admirers.  They said goodbye and cycled off.  I was minded to get my bike out when we got home.

“Honestly, I can’t leave you three alone for a minute.  Melanie, what happened to encourage them?”

“It was Melanie, Mom.  The big guy fancied her so he came to start hitting on her,” I said.

“Hey miss tarty pants.  Who was pleased that there weren’t too many girls, so she could have the boys to herself?” Mel asked.

 

I went red and shut up while Mom watched with a strange smile on her face.

 

Chapter 2