They Think I am a Woman! - Part 6

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The next morning, I woke up not knowing quite where I was.

I had a hangover. My head felt as if it had been stuck in a vise and someone was turning the screw. I could hear a hammering noise right next to my head.

My bleary eyes cleared a bit, and I realized that the banging was the clock ticking next to the lumpy settee on which I was lying.

I looked down at myself and saw that I was wearing a short pink satin nightie, and then some of it came back to me.

I was staying at Sheila’s after being chucked out of my grimy flat by that pervert, Davis.

I struggled to my feet, swaying slightly as the pain redoubled in my head, and then I somehow lurched over to the kitchen sink.

My numb brain was getting back into gear as I remembered fragments from last night.

Sheila had wanted to drown her sorrows, and I had been her accomplice. I lost count after the third bottle of Chateau Nastycrap; hell, I couldn’t count my fingers by then.

I glugged down a big glass of water. I was so thirsty that I needed another one straight away. My tongue was like sandpaper, but after the lubrication, it improved somewhat to a sort of cardboard texture.

There was a mirror over the sink, and I made the mistake of looking at it.

‘Oh no!’

My hair had changed color! Instead of blonde, it was now a brunette!

It made my face look different, to say the least, what with my bloodshot eyes, pallid fishy complexion, and strange-looking disheveled hair.

Just then, I heard a groan. It was coming from Sheila’s bedroom.

I tore myself away from the terrible vision in the mirror and tottered into the bedroom to see if Sheila was still alive.

Judging by the state of Sheila, she felt similar to me, like death warmed up.

She was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands, groaning softly and swaying slightly.

‘What happened last night?’ she said in a whisper.

‘We had a few drinks,’ I whispered back.

‘Ouch, don’t shout.’

‘Sorry,’ I said in a more hushed tone.

I think the rehydration after drinking water had started to kick in, as I merely felt terminally ill rather than dead now.

I went to get her a drink of water and stood over her as she painfully drank it down.

Half an hour later, we were sitting at the kitchen table, still in our nighties, drinking coffee and promising never to drink cheap wine again.

Gradually, my memory of last night was returning.

‘Whose idea was it to change the color of my hair?

‘Mine, yours, I don’t know. After the second bottle, we decided that we had to disguise you so that if Davis came to the flat, he wouldn’t recognize you.’

‘It’s funny how a change in your hair color changes the way you look. I didn’t recognize myself when I saw myself in the mirror.

‘At least we didn’t make a mess of the coloring. Tricky stuff, hair dye. Anyway, the color suits you. It makes you look a bit older. We need to get you to a salon, though, so they can cut it properly. If you are going girly full time, you need to look your best, and don’t forget your interview.’

‘How can I forget that? Do I really need to get my hair done at a salon?’

‘Yes, it needs professional help. Let me get about twenty aspirin to stop this terrible banging in my head. Then I’ll ring Bridget up to see if she can fit you in.’

‘Bridget?’

‘Yes, she is a mate from college. She has a hair salon just off the high street. She owes me a few favors.’

With that, she grabbed the phone and dialed a number.

‘Hi, Bridge? It’s Sheila. Got an emergency. My friend Toni has made a mess of her hair, and it needs sorting urgently. Can you be an angel of mercy and see her today? Good girl, I knew you’d come through. See you in 60. Bye!’

She put the phone down and turned to me. ‘You are in luck; she had a cancellation, and we have to be there in an hour. So we need to sort out what we are going to wear today. On top of that, you need to do some serious retail therapy.

‘I've got no money!’

‘No, but I have a credit card that’s itching to be used. It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. He gave it to me when he promised me undying love, the cheating rat, and I bet he hasn’t thought to cancel it yet.’

It was at that precise moment that it all sank in, and I sat down heavily on her bed.

‘What's wrong, Toni?’

‘It’s all going too quickly. In a few days, I have been turned from a normal, well, relatively normal, boy into a pseudo girl. I've had all these weird things happening to me. I've been chucked out of my flat. Now I’m going to a salon to have my newly colored hair prissied up. And you want me to go girly shopping. All for the sake of a bloody job and some berk who thinks I’m a girl, not a boy!’

‘Life sucks, huh?’

‘Too true.’

‘Don’t worry, hon. Let's face it, your life was going nowhere the way it was. At least being a girl will give you more options, and if you don’t get this job, you can try for others like it.’

‘As a girl.’

‘Yup.’

‘But I’m a boy underneath.’

‘You don’t have to be.’

‘What is a sex change? I’ve only been like this for a matter of hours, and you want me to snip off my pee-pee!’

‘No, stupid. You look like a girl on the outside, but you need to get used to things. If you like it and feel deep down that you are more girl than a boy, then you should speak to a doctor and go on to the next step. For now, just enjoy being a pretty girl.

‘I’m not pretty.’

‘True, at the moment you look like something the cats dragged in, but being a girl has its compensations.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like being able to slap on a bit of makeup to hide the cracks. So are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself, or are we going out to turn you from a still slightly pissed and hungover duckling and turn you into a glamorous swan?’

‘Quack.’

And so it was; within an hour, I was walking hesitantly into the SALON OF DOOM.

I had been scrubbed clean and was dressed in a pink lacy top thingy and a skirt that did not hide much of my bum, and I was showing alarming flashes of the pink silk panties that I was just about wearing. To finish off this tasteful ensemble, I was wearing some very sheer nude tights and heels that appeared to be a foot long. But as Sheila pointed out, they were ‘only’ four inches and made me look edible.

My hair had been tugged into something vaguely resembling femininity, and Sheila had put on some of what she called ‘day makeup.’ The whole lot made me feel as if I was trying to be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman but was actually more like that Cameron Diaz in Shrek, you know, when the sun goes down. Need I say more?

Anyway, once I was dressed, I found that I was having trouble (again) with Percy wanting to get up and see what was going on. A bit embarrassing when you are wearing a short skirt. Sheila suggested that I go and relieve myself in the bathroom. With a red face, I had a quick hand shandy and brought my wayward member back into line again.

The journey to the salon was a bit fraught, to say the least.

Sheila hired a taxi as we only had about twenty minutes to get to the salon for my appointment.

The taxi driver turned up and sounded his horn.

The journey was not without incident.

Firstly, the taxi driver, let's call him Ted, got out of his cab and opened the door for us.

Anyway, Ted took one look at my skirt and started to leer at me. He smiled at me, winked, and said what he must have thought was a great chat-up line. ‘Great legs, luv. What are you doing tonight?’

I, of course, said the wittiest thing I could think of, ‘piss off.’

All through the trip to the salon, I could see the taxi driver looking at me and winking. He obviously had a thick skin and did not take the fact that I was sticking my tongue out at him and giving him the finger to be considered a brush-off.

Sheila completely ignored him and just carried on chatting to me as if we were alone.

‘Well, Toni, looking forward to your first salon trip?’

‘No,’ I said, glaring at the taxi driver and wishing that I had some mace or something. I was feeling a bit vulnerable.

‘We should be there in a minute.’

‘Wonderful.’

After what seemed like three hours, we arrived at the salon.

I got out before Ted had a chance to ‘help me’ and stood on the pavement while Sheila paid the creep.

‘Five pounds? That’s a bit of a rip-off.’

‘It’s the going rate, luv.’

‘Don’t love me, you ape. Let me give you a bit of advice.

‘What?’

‘The lovely lady that you have been ogling and drooling over happens to be the daughter of the local superintendent of police. I may try to stop her from telling her daddy, but then again, I might not.

He went a sort of green shade and said, ‘Um, sorry, luv, erm, you don’t have to pay this time, sorry to offend, like.’

With that, he rushed off in a screech of tires.

‘That’s saved five pounds anyway. Come on, Toni, let’s go in. ‘Don’t worry, Bridget won’t bite.’

Sheila led the way, and I reluctantly followed. My heart was beating like a big bass drum as I entered that holy of holies of women-type establishments.

There was a reception desk, and behind it, several basins, chairs, and sets of mirrors. It was a bit like a posh and effeminate barber's, I suppose, but with much more torture equipment, like big hair dryers that go over your head and lots of implements on trays that looked very scary. 

The thing that struck me most was the various intermingling smells. It was like a chemical factory close to meltdown. I had come into the place with a bit of a stuffy nose, but miraculously, my nose had now cleared. Strong stuff!

Women were sitting in the chairs in various hair states, i.e., being washed, blow-dried, cut, plastic things on their heads, massive rollers, you name it, it was being done. None of the women seemed to be in pain, so I assumed that they had some sort of anesthetic available.

Anyhoo, there was a girl behind the said, ‘Hi Sheila, how are you doing?’

‘OK, Petra, is the boss in?’

‘I’ll see,’

She went out through a side door, and a few seconds later, she came out with another girl.

‘Hi Sheila,’ said the girl as they air-kissed each other.

‘Hello, Bridge, thanks for fitting us in.’

‘No prob, now is this the girl we were talking about? Toni, isn’t it? Hi Toni, I’m Bridget. My god, look at that hair!’

She looked at me as if I had an unmentionable disease.

‘Did someone use a scythe or something?’

‘Now, Bridget, be nice to Toni. She’s very new to being girly, as she has just gotten out of the tomboy stage. I’ve persuaded her to come because you are a nice person and would not upset her.’

‘Er, yeah, right. OK, Toni, I think I’ll do you in the back room, as it looks like it’s going to take some time, and I don’t want to frighten off my other customers. Sheila, come back in about two hours. OK?’

‘Fine, can you do her nails and wax too? You know the full beauty thing?

‘Make that three hours, and you owe me now!’

With that, Sheila left me to the tender mercies of Bridget, and God help my soul.

3

‘OK, honey, sit down in this chair, and we’ll have a chat first. Want a coffee, milk, and sugar?’

I nodded. I still had not said a word since going into the salon. Perhaps the fumes had taken away my voice.

Bridget was back in a trice. ‘There we are, dear.’ ‘Get that down, you.’

As I sipped on my coffee, I watched Bridget get her implements ready. She was quite beautiful. About five feet five, thin with a lovely open face and wonderful long blond hair. She oozed confidence, and I wished that a little of it would rub off on me.

‘The first time is always the one you remember most,’ said Bridget.

It was great for me, and ever since I have wanted to have my own place so that I could make women beautiful.’

‘You’ll have your work cut out with me.’

‘Don’t put yourself down. With a bit of care, you can look fantastic. Now, first of all, we wash your hair…’

Time had no meaning for me as she washed my hair twice, put conditioner on it, and cut and shaped it. Spent ages behind me tugging and messing about with it, and then she wrapped it up tightly in big rollers, put some smelly gunk on it, and finally cooked my head under a hairdryer on gas mark 7. I fell asleep, and it was only when I heard a "ting" from the dryer that I woke up.

The first thing I noticed was that Bridget had done strange things to my hands while I was in the land of nod. They looked cleaner somehow and smoother, but that wasn’t what I immediately saw. What kind of drew my attention was the fact that I had false nails, about half an inch long and colored in shocking pink!

‘Do you like them?’ said Bridget, enthusiastically.

‘Erm, lovely.’ I said, not convinced and wondering whether I could type with these talons.

‘You have lovely hands, hon; you should look after them.’

Once the hairdryer had done its evil work, she took the rollers out and, using a hand dryer, pulled and teased my overworked tresses until she was satisfied. Unfortunately, I couldn’t see the results of her efforts, as there was no mirror in the room. That was a bit strange, but I was too knackered to care. What with the late-night binge and all that had happened since, I was on autopilot.

It was funny, though; I could feel my hair sway a bit when I moved my head, and I could see some strands on either side of my eyes. I didn’t think my hair was that long, but it felt a lot heavier.

Anyway, I didn’t have much time to think because the next thing she said caught me off guard.

‘Right, take your clothes off.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘Take your clothes off; you need a good waxing, and we need to get at your bikini line.’

I started to feel a panic attack coming on.

‘I, er, can’t.’

Of course you can. Don’t be shy. I’ve seen it all before.’

Sorry, no, I CAN’T!

She sat down beside me and took my hand.

‘Now, Toni. You don’t have to worry. I’ll lock the door, and no one else can come in.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘But I do.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Look, I know you’re a boy, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

I gasped. How did she find out? I thought that I was getting good at this girl thing.

‘How, how, how did you find out?’ I stuttered. ‘Did Sheila tell you?’

‘She didn’t have to. I had my suspicions when you sat down, and they were confirmed while you were under the dryer, asleep.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Well, a lot of boys have stiffies when they are asleep, and let’s face it, honey, wearing that mini skirt hardly hides things, does it?’

I felt myself go very red in the face. I wished above all things that the ground would open up and swallow me. I felt myself tear up.

She gave me a hug.

‘Now, how long have you been dressing as a girl?’

I haltingly told her my story. It took a while as I kept on stopping to wipe my eyes and blow my nose, but eventually she knew the whole thing.

‘All to get a job?’

‘Yes. I know it sounds stupid, but once it started, it was like getting on a train; I couldn’t get off until the end of the journey, and things kept happening to keep me going and on, forcing me to stay as a girl.

She looked at me with sympathy.

‘It isn’t just that, is it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You feel guilty because you like the way you look and feel as a girl.’

The waterworks started again as I admitted to myself and to Bridget by nodding my head slowly.

‘Don’t worry, honey. Your secret is safe with me. I know what you are going through.’

‘You don’t. You are beautiful and elegant, and I’m just a boy dressed as a girl.’

Bridget looked at me steadily for a long time, smiled slightly, and said. Ten years ago ,I  was John Stewart, a boy from Macclesfield who wore girls' clothes. I started when I was about ten years old. I pinched my mom's tights and knickers. As soon as I put them on, I knew that I was not like other boys. Ever since I could remember, I was more interested in playing with girls rather than boys, and putting on my mom's stuff confirmed it for me. I was a girl and not a boy. I won’t bore you with the details, but as soon as I could, I started taking hormones, and three years ago I had an operation to finish things off. I am now as fully functioning as I can be under the circumstances and as happy as I can be.’

I looked at Bridget’s lovely face and figure. She was so beautiful and so obviously a girl that I could hardly believe what I had heard.

‘So, you were able to be a girl without much trouble?’

She laughed. ‘There was plenty of trouble. My mom and dad were against it. My brother hated my being a ‘fag,’ as he quaintly put it, and most of my friends dropped me like a hot coal. I had to move here to have a fresh start, but still, I couldn’t be happier.’

‘Do you see any of your family?’

‘My mum comes down sometimes, and she kind of accepts me, but no one else.’

‘And you are happy?’

‘Oh, I’m sad that my dad and brother don’t want to know me, but Mum says that they are coming round to at least understanding me, and someday soon, I hope to see them again. As for my so-called friends, people should accept me as I am, and if they don’t, they aren't very good friends.’

I didn’t say anything. I was still a bit shocked at Bridget’s revelations.

‘Anyway,’ he continued briskly and efficiently, ‘we haven’t got all day, and I have other customers later, so let’s get cracking. Off with your clothes, my girl, so we can make you a princess!’

I didn’t argue and got undressed and lay down on a padded table.

‘Right, you haven’t got much hair, but we’ll get rid of it with a bit of waxing treatment.’

‘Will it hurt?’

‘No, honey.’

‘Oh Shit.’

She lied.