tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersA Fishing Trip, But I'm The Bait Ch. 04

A Fishing Trip, But I'm The Bait Ch. 04


Chapter 04: Jane Is Transformed

Jane and Paul's last meeting had ended in an argument and she had felt crushed by his insensitivity. She was determined she would never she him again but, with a helping hand from her sister she recognised her true feelings and her transformation continued.

I was heartily sick of the way Paul had been treating me and it was only my curiosity that had kept me coming back to this dirty old shed. I dumped Jane's schoolgirl clothes in a heap but couldn't bear to leave the knickers behind and tucked them in my pocket before making my way across the field to my bike, without even bothering to see if he'd left me a note.

I was too angry to think straight but on the journey home I tried to piece events together to try and make sense of them. I had enjoyed dressing in my outfit with its regulation knickers and short grey skirt: I loved the feeling of freedom it gave me. I liked getting ready beforehand too, especially shaving my boy pussy and applying a little eyeliner and lip gloss to enhance my youthful looks. I'd even held off getting my hair cut and it was now looking pretty sexy when I shook it out.

I felt such a strong attraction to Paul and when he finally took me I was overwhelmed, not just by the physical sensations but by the emotions it stirred in me. So when he flew into a rage over nothing I felt really vulnerable and hurt. No - this wasn't how I expected things to be at all. He was just a surly brute, completely selfish and there was no way I was going to see him again.

I suppose I was so wrapped up in these thoughts that I hadn't looked at my watch. Normally I wiled away some time before I returned home, to give my fishing trips some credibility, but this time I stormed back into the house around 10am and my sister was there in the kitchen.

"Hi John. What's up: fish not biting today?"

I thought I'd have the house to myself and so to suddenly find myself jolted back in my normal life was a real shock. My sister Laura was always so kind and thoughtful and even though she teased me, it was never spiteful. Seeing her smiling face made my emotions spill over and I had to hide my face away from her or else she'd have seen I was close to tears. I couldn't risk trying to speak because my voice would have surely given the game away, so I busied myself taking off my boots and jacket. I waited till she turned her back and made a dash for the security of my room.

"Hey, hey hey!" She called after me, as I ran up the stairs. "John? What's the matter?"

I had the rest of the day off work and I waited till I heard Laura go out before venturing out of my room. The last thing I wanted was to face a barrage of well-meaning questions from her, so I needed to avoid her as long as possible. I knew she was going out with friends that evening and, as things turned out, I didn't see her till the next evening and she didn't raise the subject.

I tried to get my life back into a routine: did some overtime at my job and, on Mom's suggestion, even read some books for the college course I would start in a few weeks. Although the John part of me seemed to be back in control, at night in bed I allowed Jane to surface and wore my girly knickers in bed and fantasised about being a horny teen girl.

I arrived back from work, one such ordinary day and found Laura sitting reading in the kitchen. She looked up and smiled.

"Hi John. How was work?" she enquired pushing her book away and leaning back. We chatted for a few minutes about friends and gossip.

"Are you coming to Tizzy's tonight - there's a crowd of us going?" she asked.

"Hmm - maybe, so long as we're not too late back. Are you taking the car?" I asked, turning to go upstairs

"No we won't be late. I've seriously got to do some course work or I'm going to get in trouble. Let's go around nine?" she continued as I left the room. "Oh, John. Something came in the post for you. I put it on your bed."

On the bed was large padded envelope with a handwritten address to J. Gosling. Curious I tore it open and tipped out a little bundle of pale fabric tied with a bow and a small envelope 'To Jane'. I knew immediately that it was from Paul and he must have found out where I lived. I was tempted to tear it up without reading the letter inside but I reluctantly sat on the bed and began.

"Dear Jane

I must apologise for intruding in this way but I had to contact you and desperately want to make amends for the shameful way I reacted to your genuine affection toward me. You deserve an explanation and I would have preferred to have told you in person but a letter is better than nothing at all.

Some years ago, when I wasn't much older than you are now, I used to live a wild life of parties and self-indulgence. I hung out at gay bars but always felt attracted to transexuals. I was part of a great crowd of friends and we used to have such laughs and the stories I could tell you...!! There was one TS in particular that had my heart: she was so cute with legs up to her armpits and, yes, blond hair, but she was going steady with one of the bears and to be fair, they made a great couple. It was a great life and although there was a little bitching now and again, I knew that I could rely on anyone in our gang - we were always so supportive of each other.

But here is another side to that lifestyle - a dark side that I wouldn't want anyone to witness, least of all you, Jane. But it happened to me. Shit - how can I explain this without sounding like a lame dog? Ok... here goes.

One night I went to a party at a friend's house on the other side of town and got completely wasted! I had to get the last bus home and although I usually acted straight I had let one of the CDs put loads of make up on my face. I'd completely forgotten how I looked when I caught the bus home, but at a stop near the football ground a gang of mean-looking fuckers got on. I sobered up pretty quick and tried to hide my face but they were spoiling for trouble and here they'd found a faggoty-looking guy on his own. I got off the bus at the next stop but they followed me. I didn't know where the hell I was but I knew I was in trouble. They set about me and I thought I was going to die as they taunted me, calling me queer and all that shit. I can remember one of them pulled a blade and whilst the rest of them held me down he took the knife and carved up my chest. I don't remember much else ( I must have passed out ) but I must have been covered in blood when I finally got picked up and taken to hospital.

The next day I had a social worker sitting at the end of the bed when I woke. She started asking all sorts of questions that didn't make sense, like 'did I live alone, did I have family nearby and how did I feel about the police' and all kinds of strange things. I couldn't understand the point of her questions and why I needed any interference from the social department at all. I just wanted to get out and forget it all, but then she went on about sexually motivated attacks bla bla. Finally she got around to the truth. My attackers had also burnt me and it wasn't likely I would heal without scars. The truth finally dawned on me when she said 'I'm afraid you're going to be scarred for life Paul'. When the bandages came off my chest there were a load of stitches that formed the word 'queer'. I felt like I'd been branded like an animal. Of course I saw a surgeon who was sympathetic and they tried to patch me up as best they could, but it was obvious the scars would stay.

I stayed away from the club scene from then on, although quite a few friends called to see me, they couldn't convince me to go back - all the joy had evaporated for me. I even got a huge Get Well card signed by everyone at our bar. That was years ago of course, but since then I've been self conscious of my appearance and can't even take my shirt off on the beach. I would have told you but it is not something you go telling people on a first date and I was worried I'd frighten you off too. But I seem to have managed that anyway, haven't I?

Although I quit the 'scene' it hasn't changed who I am inside. I'm not a bad person Jane and I've been torn apart that something that happened to me years ago can still affect my life today, and yours.

Well I've said my piece and don't want to keeping bleating away. I've not written this to gain your sympathy - that's the last thing I want from you.

I realise you may have already made up your mind and I will never attempt to contact you again, but I couldn't leave things the way they were. I've probably put you off forever, which would be a tragedy because you're so damned beautiful.

I wish you nothing but good things Jane and I hope you can still enjoy the silks.

All my love


I read and re-read the letter. I couldn't decide if I still felt angry with him or if I had judged him too harshly: in fact I felt a bit numb.

I turned to the little bundle of lingerie and pulled the decorative ribbon that fastened it. Paul had chosen two gorgeous items: a skimpy thong with a lace panel at the front and a matching teddy with thin straps and a lace front panel, all in off-white that would look fabulous on my olive coloured skin. They looked very expensive and when I held them to my face I realised why girls were so in love with silk, for it glided over my lips like liquid.

I carefully folded them up and put them in the bottom of a box under my bed. I was looking forward to wearing them as soon as possible, but not now. I had to bathe and get ready to go out.

Both Laura and I had a wild night with our friends and we had to get a taxi home because we were drunk. I think I needed to let off steam but she never needed an excuse to let her hair down. We knew as well that we would not be held to account as Mom was away for a few days visiting an aunt. When we got home I should have collapsed into bed but an impish voice inside me told me to pull out my new lingerie, which I did, pulling the thong up tight so that it divided my cheeks, then I collapsed into bed.

I was to have a rude awakening in the morning. Because I worked irregular hours in my holiday job there were some days they didn't need me in till lunchtime. I thought I could lie in but Laura knew otherwise.

At 8.30am when she banged on my door, I was sound asleep.

"John get up - you're late for work."

No answer.

"John!" she pushed the door open and tried again. "John, you're late for work!"

Again nothing. Without thinking she marched over, took a handful of duvet and pulled all the bedclothes off revealing her brother clad in a pretty thong and teddy.

"John ...WTF? John, what is that?" she exclaimed half laughing, half shocked.

I jumped up from the bed and grabbed a pillow to hide behind. "Shit Laura. What are you doing? I'm not working today, not till later: it's Thursday, dammit!"

Laura was still standing holding the corner of duvet but not looking at me. Instead her brow was furrowed in thought, her mouth still open in shock. We both started to speak at the same time.

"I can explain," I spluttered.

"No I - wait a moment," she was holding up a hand to silence me. "Just wait on here one little old moment. No, no. Don't say another word, John. Right, OK. Err... This is going to have to wait till later. Mr Perkins from the shop rang before you got home yesterday and asked if you could work an extra morning. I'm really sorry John, I forgot to tell you last night. So you've got about five minutes to get dressed and out the door. Unless you want to phone in sick?"

"Well... can I get dressed then Sis'?" I replied. I should have been angry that she'd forgotten to pass on the message but embarrassment was winning out.

Laura finally dropped the duvet with a quick "Oh sure", then turned to go. She seemed oddly distant and gave me one more glance, before closing the door and going back to her room. I raced to get dressed and ran out the house without stopping for breakfast.

In some ways I suppose I had wanted this to happen all along: at least being discovered by mistake meant I didn't have to struggle to start the conversation - things would now just play out. I couldn't read Laura's reaction but she seemed pretty shocked and I was going to have to deal with that when I got home. I spent most of the day running imaginary conversations with her and trying to think how I could tell her the truth without losing her friendship.

When I got home I went straight to my room but it wasn't long before she came tapping at my door.

"Can I come in, John," she called softly.

"Sure Laura - it's OK," I replied and readied myself to face the music. She stepped in with the lingerie over her arm.

"Hi John. I've washed these for you. You have to be really careful with silk and finish ironing it with a low heat or they'll get ruined and these are gorgeous." Laura was very quiet and sat on the bed, motioning me to sit down next to her.

She took hold of my upper arm and started rubbing my shoulders as I sat staring at the floor. I had rehearsed the conversation in my mind but Laura's softness caught me by surprise and from nowhere, tears spilled from my eyes.

She hugged me to her, rocking me in her arms.

"What's going on in here," she went on running her hand over my head."What's wrong with my lovely brother?"

"There's nothing wrong with me," I murmured into her shoulder.

"What is it then, cupcake?"

"I can't tell you."

"Do you want to talk to someone else then?"


"Ok," she replied, a little exasperated. "So I'm the person you want to talk to but whatever it is, you're frightened of my reaction?"

I nodded.

"John. You've heard some of my stories from Uni - you know I get up to some weird shit so there's nothing you could say that would affect the way I feel about you. I might even be able to help, y'know? And if it's to do with wearing girls knickers and stuff, then forget it: most footballers seem to be wearing thongs and lace these days."

We laughed and it helped lighten the mood a little.

"Laura, it isn't just the knickers: I don't think I'm like other boys," I began. "When friends from school joke and talk about girls: you know the kind of thing, laughing about tossing off over porn mags or bragging about getting their fingers down some girls knickers, it all sounds so foreign to me. I never think that way. I think girls are pretty and I admire them but I don't want to have sex with them: I want to be them. I'm sorry Laura but your little brother thinks there is nothing hotter than silk knickers and strong men."

Laura was nodding solemnly and deep in thought. She took a long deep breath and I reached out to touch her hand for reassurance because I was terrified what her reaction might finally be.

"You know John, this all fits, somehow. Hear me out 'cos I'm still piecing this together. First off calm down, I'm not about to freak. I'm your sister, your own flesh and blood so I'm here to help," she went on. "Ok, here's how I see this. Steph and I knew you used to sneak into our rooms and borrow clothes, but when we complained to Mom she told us not to make a fuss, that it was just a phase and we shouldn't make a big deal of it.

Then you're not exactly a team player: you don't hang around with those pricks from school with hot-hatch cars and pimple faces. You're clever, funny, sensitive.

What really got me thinking was the other night when we were out and there were loads of girls in the club: one of them practically begged you to dance but you were making big eyes at the bouncers. You were, weren't you? So by the time I found you wearing 'fuck-me' knickers in bed this morning it was just another tick in the box. John, you know, all of us just want you to be happy. We don't want to see you get hurt."

I was fiddling with the corner of the bed-sheet and listening hard. I wanted to throw my arms round Laura for being just the best sister ever but we were only halfway there.

"There's something else you should know," I replied. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to steady my nerves. "There's a man I've been seeing. You were right again when you thought I'd been doing more than fishing. Those silks were from him: they arrived in that packet in the post. Laura, don't be angry with me: I still feel the same about you but everything's mixed up and I don't know what to do."

"Oh John! I really admire you and I think you're being incredibly brave and honest. A lot of people bury these feelings away but you're following your heart and no one can criticise you for that, least of all me. I'm glad you've found someone you like. It sounds as though you needed that to happen, to make sense of all these feelings that have been bubbling away inside you."

"But I think I've messed everything up," I said, still fighting back the tears. "We argued when we last met: I shouted, well no, he shouted...fuck, how can I say this when it all sounds so stupid?"

"People argue, honey - it happens all the time and it's nearly always about something stupid,' cooed Laura, stroking my hair. "Now, tell me everything."

So I recounted the whole story about Paul and me to my lovely, patient sister and finished with; "It's how I feel inside Laura. It feels so right to me and rest of my life till now has been a lie."

With tears in her eyes Laura flung her arms around my neck and we clung to each other not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

"John - it's not what you've told me, it's how you've told me that has me convinced. I almost forgot you were a boy as you spoke. You're right: this is the real you, but now I'm happy and frightened for you. First things first: why haven't you been back in touch with Paul?"

"I got this letter with the clothes. Here: read it."

I scanned Laura's face and knew what she was reading when she brought her hand up to her mouth.

"Holy shit. Is this for real? Poor man, no wonder he's screwed up," she said, setting the letter down in her lap."Do you want to see him again?"

"Do you think I should?" I replied.

"Don't be an ass, John! This isn't about 'should', it's about 'want'. Sorry - Jane."

I nodded in reply.

"Ok then, Jane, here's the plan. Us girls have got to have a plan and there's not a minute to lose."

Paul had given his telephone number but Laura had to bully, tutor and threaten me to make the call. We sat facing each other over the phone as I tried to pluck up courage to dial. In the end she lost patience, dialled the number and held the handset up to me and then put her head to my ear to listen in.

"Hi Paul, it's John. I think we need to talk."

"Oh, hi there. I wasn't sure if you would call. How can I help?" Paul's voice sounded concerned.

"I don't think I can talk about this on the phone. Can I call over one evening after work?"

"Sure, yes. Would you like to have dinner one evening or is it likely to be brief?"

"I just need to speak face to face. Yes, dinner would be fine, thanks." I replied flatly.

"Tomorrow would be OK. It sounds urgent: are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks Paul." And I hung up.

Laura screamed with laughter and hugged me again.

"OK then Jane. We have some work to do and not enough time. First off, go and run a bath, then we can fix you up with some clothes. I know some of mine will fit you perfectly and you need to be dressed to kill!"

I did as I was told whilst Laura put on some loud Madonna music, which seemed to suit the mood as I lay in a hot bath full of bubbles. I finally stepped out to the tune of 'Like a Virgin' and wandered into Laura's room with a towel wrapped round me. She motioned me to her dresser and began to experiment with different tones of foundation and blusher on my wrist before applying to my face. My eyebrows were fair anyway but she shaped them with tweezers and brushed on a subtle eye shadow. I loved the attention I was getting and was developing a hard-on under the folds of the towel.

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