I sat back against the headboard of my bed, arms wrapped tightly around my knees crushing them to my chest. My tears had run out by now, I don’t think I could find enough energy to cry any more. So I sat, rocking slightly from side to side. With dried tears streaking my face I softly hummed a favourite tune, I couldn’t manage the words, that would have been too painful.
I remember the first time I met her, it was after school when I was fourteen. I had been walking home, on my own as usual, a quiet nerdy kid with no friends. I was tall for my age, plain looking and flat chested. Other girls would tease me that I had a boy’s name and I looked like a boy, not helped by my mother cutting my hair herself and cutting it far too short for a girl. Add to that thick almost bushy eyebrows the same dark brown as my hair and the girls at school always found plenty of ammunition for their cruel taunts.
On this day as I was walking down my street two boys from my school grabbed me and started beating me up. The punches and kicks hurt, but what I think hurt me more was the names they were calling me, fag, poofter, gay boy. These kids acted like they thought I was a boy, and that I was gay. I just lay on the floor in a ball and soaked up the pain they dealt me while inside I was screaming “I’m a girl, boys shouldn’t hit girls!”
I barely heard the shrill scream and running feet, I was only aware that the kicking had stopped. Soon gentle hands helped me to stand.
“You ok honey?” I heard. Looking nervously around me I saw the two boys were on the floor, one was rolling around clutching his balls as he cried, the other looked to be out cold. Eventually my eyes reached my rescuer, she looked to be about the same age as me but so much prettier. She was about the same height but she filled the space with a woman’s body while I just had this twig I was saddled with. I think I had seen her around at school, but we didn’t have any classes together and had never actually met.
“You ok?” she asked again.
“Um yeah I think so, but I think I’m gonna have some bruises. Thanks for stopping them.”
She smiled at me and introduced herself as Sophie. She stared a little when I told her my name was Axel.
“Uh isn’t that a boy’s name?” She had asked me.
I explained that my dad suffered from a mild case of dyslexia and had made a mistake trying to spell Alex. I told her how having a boys name and being so ugly had got me teased all the time, this was the first time it had got violent like this though.
Sophie took me back to hers and helped clean me up. When I was sorted as best I could my new friend looked at me critically, she took me in hand that day, her pet project I suppose. She lent me a dress of hers to wear instead of my baggy sweatshirt and jeans, showed me how to pluck my thick eyebrows, ouch!. And finally showed me how to apply makeup and make the best of my hair. That weekend we even managed to persuade my mother to splash out on some new clothes. Sophie took me into town on Saturday morning and choose my new outfits, explaining to me all the time why they would suit my figure better than what I usually wore. By the end of the weekend I loved my new best friend.
After that weekend we were inseparable, for the rest of the school year we met up after school virtually every day. One weekend I would stay at her house, the next she would be at mine. Following Sophie’s advice my wardrobe steadily became more and more feminine. My body also gradually changed that year, small breasts grew, a downy patch of hair between my legs, and my periods started. That last one I could have done without, I was a late starter compared with most of the girls my age, but when they started they started with a vengeance. I think shortly after I began I had a period every two weeks for the best part of a year, complete with cramps that would have felled a dinosaur. Mum took me to a doctor as the almost constant bleeding had left me pale and listless. The doctor told her that I would settle down in time but I would have to be patient, she advised mum to give me iron supplements, great tablets that taste of rusty nails.
With the help that Sophie had given me and my gradually improving body I began to attract a nicer sort of attention from the boys at school, and even managed to make friends with a few of the girls.
By the summer holidays I actually had a fun time on the beach for the first time in years. Sophie and I would go down there with our little bikinis on and have a great time splashing about in the sea and flirting with the guys.
Towards the end of the summer things changed somewhat for us, Sophie had got a boyfriend. I wasn’t jealous of her, or him for that matter, I was happy for her. She would still sleep over at mine or I would sleep at hers once a week or so. She would tell me every little detail of their make out sessions, I heard about the first time she gave him a hand job, how he would massage her titties and eventually the first time she gave him a blow job. I loved hearing about all this and couldn’t wait to get started on my own adventures.
School started again and between school and her boyfriend I saw a lot less of Sophie for a few months. During that time I had my first date with a boy, it was nice, I liked it when he kissed me but I wasn’t ready to go any further than that. I guess he must have expected me to put out on the first date ‘cos he never called again.
Late November I think it was that Sophie came over to my place in tears. She had just gone around to see Anton, and found him with another girl. The girl had her top off and Anton was having nipples for his lunch.
Sophie was devastated and fell into my arms for a hug. We sat on the side of my bed, my arms holding Sophie tightly to me as she sobbed. That was when I realised that I loved Sophie, and I don’t mean as a friend.
Of course I didn’t say anything, it was a very new and confusing thing to me at the time. I mean I was a girl I was supposed to fancy guys, not my best friend.
After Sophie had gone home I sat in my room for hours trying to work out how I was feeling and what it meant. I quickly decided there was no way I could tell her, she was very focused on guys and I didn’t ever want to risk loosing my best friend.
Sophie bounced back quickly in the way that teenagers can. I hid my distraction well, I’m sure she never guessed. We both dated occasionally up until we left school. Whenever Sophie had a boyfriend I would see less of her and although I would feel sad and lonely for a while I truly was happy that she was happy. My boyfriends were more of a type of camouflage. I would let them feel me up and give them a hand job if I had to, but they held little appeal to me really. There was only one person that I wanted and I would never be able to have her.
After school we both spent a couple of years at college. Sophie was doing a hair and beauty course and I studied electronic repair and maintenance, I told you I was a nerd.
Two months before my eighteenth birthday my world came crashing down around my ears. Sophie had been dating Ian for about seven months when she came around to my house bubbling over with excitement. Sophie proudly showed me her engagement ring, Ian had proposed. I think that must have been the hardest act of my life, I was devastated, although I knew she wasn’t interested in me that way, it always seemed like I had a chance, until then.
I went off the rails then, I went down to our local pub later that night and went home with the first guy to buy me a drink. He took my virginity and it hurt like hell, I was dry ‘cos the guy didn’t attract me at all. After that I went back to the pub every night and went home with different guy, I learnt to nip to the loo and apply a generous glob of lube to my pussy before we went back to his place to fuck. I can’t quite decide now whether I was searching for someone that could make me feel like I wasn’t some kind of lesbian freak, or if I was trying to lose myself. I do know I didn’t take care of myself during that time, I was on the pill and I didn’t get the guy to wear a rubber. I know I risked catching some STDs but I didn’t care, I was sliding into oblivion and I was welcoming it with open arms.
I’ll never forget the look of disappointment on my mother’s face when I got home one night, I suppose I had been in slut mode for almost a year by then. That night as I closed the front door as quietly as I could I saw the kitchen light was on, mum was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me.
“Axel, we need to talk!” she said in a tired voice, it was after three in the morning after all and mum was never a night owl.
I took one look at the expression on her face and sat opposite her, I looked down at the table, I couldn’t face that disappointed expression any longer.
“Yes mum.” I answered quietly.
“I have been hearing things about you lately, things I never thought I would hear.” her voice was sad, I hated myself for letting her down, for not being who she wanted me to be. I couldn’t answer her.
“What on earth has gotten into you Axel, you’re not the girl I brought up anymore.”
I felt the sharp sting of tears behind my eyes. Moments later I found my self around the table on my knees. I was crying hard as I hugged my mother, she hugged me back and I think I cried even harder. Eventually my tears eased and mum leant back and looked at me.
“Well honey, what’s it all about?” she asked softly.
.... There is more of this story ...