Mummy's Girl Pt. 03

CHAPTER 7

It was my 18^th birthday and the biggest surprise yet.

I got up early to put on makeup and my princess dress, then came down to see her for breakfast.

There were no cards and no presents.

"Happy eighteenth, Matilda," she said kissing and hugging me.

"But that's it. You're a grown woman who should be making your own way.

"And you look a prat in that dress. You're a fifty-eight-year-old man, for heaven's sake!"

"I'm not going to be your Mum any more. So far as you're concerned I'm Jacqui. My little girl has grown up and left home. You can still live here and we can be sisters, but I'm not looking after you. You'll have to stand on your own two feet. And first thing is to face up to the situation and get on with your life."

"Why don't you tell them at work you want to come in a dress?"

It was a horrifying thought. I told her they'd have to let me but could make my life miserable.

"Well then, why don't you take early retirement when you're sixty? Then it won't matter. I'm not going to stop, so you can be the little housewife."

It sounded great. If I could just hang on for two more years. And I had been trained to do all the housework from cooking to cleaning. We shared it, but maybe it would be nice to be a housewife, while she went out to work.

"However, I will suggest we make a joint appointment to see the doctor. And you come in a dress."

It was one thing to be out well away from home in a crowd, but this was our neighbourhood. Suppose someone in the waiting room recognised me? Anyway, if they sat and looked I was sure they could tell.

Our doctor looked puzzled when we came in, and was just about to say something when Jacqui announced "This is my husband, doctor. We've got something to discuss with you."

He sat back, said "I see," then started tapping on his computer.

"Just a minute," he added, obviously scrolling with his mouse.

"Has your husband been taking some of your hormone replacement tablets?"

"Er yes," came her embarrassed reply.

"How long?"

"Well, several years, actually, but we stopped about nine months ago."

He sighed.

"Well I'm glad you did. Stop that is, because your blood tests are back where I expected to see them. Has there been any improvement since you got back to the proper dose? Anything worse?"

They discussed symptoms for a few minutes and the outcome was good.

"Right, I'm prepared to continue prescribing if you promise just to take them yourself."

He did something on the computer.

"Now, what about your husband? What do you want to discuss?"

"Well, his feminization, it's..."

"Can't he speak for himself?" he interrupted sharply.

"Come on, what do you want from me?"

Well, what did I want? They both looked expectantly.

"Well, I've been dressing in women's clothes for a while..."

"How long?" he said, again sharply.

"About ten years," she answered, when I hesitated. "And most of the time at home for six years. Not at work, but she's been out in public a bit more lately."

The doctor didn't say anything but looked over his glasses at each of us in turn. Jacqui looked embarrassed.

He looked at me.

"Do you have a female name?"

"Matilda," I said blushing, so now we were both red-faced.

"So, Matilda, do you want to be a woman all the time, and you want some medical assistance?"

"Yes, please," I said in a small voice. "I really do."

"I see. Now let me tell you why you should consult your doctor before taking medication. The things we give to feminize men are not the same as we give to relieve women of menopause and post-menopausal symptoms. In particular, your wife has been getting oestrogen and progestogen. Now progestogen is only for people with wombs. I take it you don't have one of them?"

I shook my head.

"And what we give men who wish to be women is an anti-androgen to reduce your testosterone. We don't put that in HRT for women!"

He wrote a note, and typed something on the computer.

"Now when you've seen me, just wait and you'll be called to have some blood taken and your blood pressure measured. If the results are satisfactory, then I am prepared to consider medication, but you must also have a physical examination and an initial psychological assessment."

He smiled and spoke a bit more kindly.

"I know it's difficult, but we have to be so careful. And it is going to be a challenge for you. But I do think you are serious, and I'll help you as far as I think is safe. But you do have to help us, by being honest and following instructions."

He looked at us both.

"Sorry, one more question. When did you last have intercourse?"

I looked away. Only one of us was able to answer.

"I did, yesterday. But Matilda hasn't for several years."

"I see. Are you having intercourse regularly? Are there any issues? Pain, bleeding?"

"Yes, twice a week, and no problems."

"I'm glad to hear that, so no change to your medication."

He held his hand wide.

"Is there anything else?"

We shook our heads.

"Well, both make an appointment for about two weeks' time. Bring a urine sample: reception will give you the vials. You should get a letter about a mammogram and cervical smear. And don't forget to wait for the blood before you leave today."

We did as we were told, turning up with our pee vials. He measured our blood pressures and examined my tiny breasts, then put a finger up my bum to check the prostate.

"Well, nothing seriously wrong. Now Matilda, I can actually prescribe an anti-androgen, because of your age and following a prostate examination. It is a bit enlarged, and this is a recognised treatment for the condition, and reduces the risk of cancer. Read the leaflet warning of possible side-effects, including feminization."

"But you will need to wait for oestrogen," he added.

Meanwhile life went on.

Jacqui's dates with Jeff were sometimes an evening in, and he often stayed the night at weekends. I did act a little bit like a maid, keeping out of the way, cooking, cleaning and tidying, so they could enjoy each other. However we all three went out (some distance away) to give me time in public as a woman, and he once went with me to the cinema (not local) when Jacqui did not want to. The integral garage was a godsend.

Oddly enough, or not, I didn't feel like dressing up as a schoolgirl for the company's Christmas party. So far as I was concerned, dressing up as a man was fancy dress. But I did put on some makeup to be a not very good Jack Sparrow.

Jeff came to stay over Christmas.

On Christmas morning there was a present from him for me - sexy underwear! A bra, two pairs of panties, a suspender belt and stockings, all in black lace.

I could tell Jacqui wasn't pleased, but she tried to hide it by smiling and telling him he was naughty. But she'd stopped being my Mum. I was an adult. And there was no chance I would be competition for her!

If I had really been her teenage daughter, it would have been inappropriate. He certainly wouldn't want a fifty-eight-year-old man instead of a real and still attractive woman.

And I certainly wouldn't want him! Even Dexter in real life wasn't Matilda's teenage fantasy boyfriend. That had just been storytelling as part of the pretence.

He also gave me a packet which he said I should only open in my room. It was quite heavy and didn't rattle. When I opened it, it had some realistic breasts! I also discovered that my new bra was a C cup and the breasts fitted.

I think they were the best Christmas presents I had ever had. I really enjoyed Christmas dinner with the weights on my chest as I moved with plates and dishes between the table and kitchen. He could see my stockings, and my improved chest through a blouse Jacqui had given me, which felt strangely good, even though he knew it was all fake. I was pleased to know he knew I was pleased!

CHAPTER 8

It was after Christmas when I got the first interview at a gender dysphoria clinic. One of the things they asked me was who I had told, and I was strongly advised to tell my best friend.

"If he doesn't keep a secret, he's not your best friend, the counsellor said. If he is your best friend he'll support you when you come out."

Well, it was obvious who my best friend was. But could I tell him?

First things first, just ask him out for a drink. Lads only evening. I certainly didn't want his girlfriend along.

"Hey Dexie," I hailed him, "fancy a jar or two tonight? Just lads? We haven't done it in a while."

"Yeah, it's about time," he responded.

"Jocasta won't mind?" I asked.

"No problem. Usual place, about seven?"

It was the usual chat about this and that, agreeing what was wrong with the world, as I wondered how I could lead up to telling him, when he suddenly said "Joey's getting married."

It took a moment to understand, but his sad face helped.

"Jocasta? But not to you?"

He took a long drink.

"Right. We split up six or eight months ago, but as friends, and I was hoping we'd get back, so I didn't tell you. I knew she was seeing someone else, but you know..."

Now was obviously not the time.

The evening ended with him drunk, and me taking him home. I'd kept with low alcohol beers, but thought he needed it.

As I got him through the door, he slurred "You're my best mate. I love you, pal."

I got his jacket, shoes, and trousers off and put him to bed.

Looking around, the place was a tip.

I picked up things from the floor, put clothes in the laundry basket, dishes in the dishwasher, and tidied up some of the mess in the kitchen. I had the urge to put the vacuum around and wash the kitchen and bathroom floor, but resisted, and left.

Jacqui had gone to bed when I got home. I picked up a mug and plate she'd left in the living room, washed them, and went through my own Matilda routine in the bathroom.

Next day, Dexter was hung over, but came into work.

"Thanks for last night," he said.

"You really are a best mate! You didn't have to tidy up, though. You'd make someone a wonderful wife!"

Dexter didn't get drunk again, but cheered up over the following month. We went to several films, for fish & chips or a burger. It was when we had got a Chinese takeaway at his flat, that I decided the time was right.

"Dexter," I began, and he interrupted me.

"Something serious? Or I am no longer your old pal Dexie?"

I was slightly fazed.

"Yes, no. I mean yes, something serious, but yes you're still my best mate."

His face lost its smile.

"Hey, if you're in trouble, you can tell me. If it's money, I'll do what I can."

He looked really concerned.

"Is it you and Jacqui? Is that it."

"No, not exactly. We're still together... In a sense... I mean it's not that... There's no problem, but..."

He remained silent, while I pulled my thoughts and courage together.

"The fact is, Dexie, I like to dress as a woman. I do it all the time at home, and I'd really like to do it all the time in public."

There! I'd said it.

His eyes widened, and he took a moment to respond.

"So... when you were a schoolgirl at the party...?"

"Yes, it wasn't really fancy dress. Except for the school blazer. I wear skirts and makeup at home"

I hadn't quite told the truth, but he didn't need to hear my history, only what I hoped would be my future.

"But you and Jacqui, you still...er...you know?"

"No, not for a few years, but it's OK. She's got another man for that, but he doesn't live with us. He's the only other person who knows. She was very supportive of me dressing up, and is helping me now."

"Oh, right," he said at this revelation.

"So you're going for a sex change then?"

"No, just some hormones. It's mainly about being able to live openly."

He was thoughtful for a while.

"Could I have dinner again?" he asked, "To see the real you, as you could say?"

Jacqui thought it was a good idea, and went out for an evening with Jeff, promising to be back no earlier than eleven.

So I made a meal and really had my first date as Matilda, though we both stressed it was just best friends.

I wasn't trying to be a hot date, so it was a B-cup bra with foam padding, and makeup like going to the shopping centre. I had a nice print dress and my two-inch heels. Jacqui helped me with hair.

We had (I think) a nice meal, but didn't say a lot. We really had no need to get to know each other. I didn't ask him about Jocasta, and he didn't ask me how long I had been feminine. You wouldn't with a real woman, would you? So it was him asking me and me telling how I made the food (though I am sure he didn't want to know) and minor comments about the world, people at work and our common interests, generally agreeing with each other.

But at the end of it, he said: "Well that was nice. I'd really like to see you again," and kissed me on the cheek.

"I'd like that too," I said and meant it.

When Jacqui got back, she was pleased to hear about it, and talked to me like a mum again.

He came round the next week, which was better. I opened up a bit to say how Jacqui had helped me over several years (though I didn't say how many) and he said she was a wonderful woman to do that. I agreed, and said I was glad she had Jeff now. At the end he gave me a quick hug as well as a peck on the cheek.

Just as he was about to go, he turned and said "Why don't you take some clothes to my place? Then you can change there. I'll give you the key so you can come ahead, and I'll bring a takeaway."

A couple of days later, he gave me the key and I took half a day off work.

I was ready to greet him when he came in with the evening meal.

"Oh my god, Tilly! You shouldn't have!"

Then he looked around.

"I'm sorry," I told him, "I just had a bit of time so I thought I'd push the vacuum round."

He laughed (which was a bit of a relief, and very nice).

"And I thought I'd tidied up!"

(He had, compared to the tip I'd seen last time, but it did need vacuuming and the kitchen floor and work surfaces needed cleaning. I'd done a bit of dusting, and dealt with things left out in the kitchen.)

"Sorry. I didn't pry anywhere, but I had the time and I really don't mind doing it."

Actually I had really wanted to do more, especially the bathroom, and had carefully not gone into the bedroom.

"You're different from Joey!" he laughed, and I was glad he had been able to mention her at last.

It wasn't a date, just two friends talking, but I was so glad he had been able to see the real me.

I didn't tell him, but his acceptance had been a huge relief and convinced me it was the real me.

CHAPTER 9

The gender dysphoria clinic was well pleased that I was meeting with my best friend as a woman, and put me on oestrogen. I stressed that there was nothing romantic or sexual, and they said that was fine. The aim was normal living, not any kind of relationship, unless I wanted. They suggested that I should go out in some public place with him, and think of someone else who could share the knowledge. I said it would be too big a step at the moment to tell my sons, and they said I should proceed at my own pace.

I located some more clothes at Dexter's flat, and he grudgingly agreed that I could do some housework at least once a week. I explained that Jacqui had trained me, and I would be more comfortable if I could keep the place clean and tidy. He was actually much better at not leaving things around, so there wasn't a lot to do, and it was quite satisfying. I still did my share at home, of course.

He did actually take me to a couple of places, well away from work, of course, and I was pleasantly surprised that no-one seemed to take much notice.

I was pretty happy with the routine. I was spending most of my life outside work as a woman, and was feeling the effects of the oestrogen - a bit softer somehow.

I couldn't use the word Mum, but Jacqui was treating me a bit more like a mum again, and Jeff was acting like an uncle, even though he's younger than me. I suppose that as a woman I was younger in the sense of being inexperienced, and this affected them.

Come to think of it, Dexter was treating me as a woman his own age. And a good friend.

It's hard to describe it. What we talked about and did could have been between any two friends, but I really felt he was treating me as a woman. Maybe it was just the oestrogen: it's supposed to affect the brain. Did it affect my perception, or somehow make me seem more feminine to him? Maybe both - or neither. Perhaps wishful thinking.

At my next consultation, they asked me to bring Dexter in. The psychologist asked us both a lot of questions. The answer I remember was when he said "She's the best girlfriend I ever had!"

We were then asked to hold hands as the conversations continued.

In a while she told us what she observed.

"I get the feeling that you are both very fond of each other, but holding back somehow. Dexter in particular wants more of the intimacy you might expect between a man and a woman so obviously close."

She held up her hand to stop my question.

"And Matilda, intimacy does not just mean penetration. It can be more holding hands, hugging, even kissing and not being afraid of the other's body. If something feels uncomfortable, then just say so, but we talk with more than words you know, and sometimes touch can be more expressive."

"And if you do want to go further, then masturbation is really no trouble, but generally greatly appreciated by men," she added with a big smile.

There was more, but that was the important point.

I remember thinking I didn't need sex, but he was a younger man so almost certainly did. Was he just being a best friend and concentrating on me when he should be spending time with women his own age?

Back in the car, he said "You know, she's right. Before we used to touch each other all the time. It's normal for close friends. We only stopped when you came in a dress, which is silly. The hug and kiss on the cheek is just sort of formal."

And he patted me on the knee.

"No offence?"

"None taken," I said, patting him back, and thinking it had been me touching him mainly because of a foolish teenage fantasy.

"But you should be seeing other girls, now Jocasta's gone. I wouldn't mind, obviously. You don't need to give up your love-life."

He didn't say anything, but concentrated on driving until he could pull over without blocking the traffic.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and turned to me.

"I meant what I said in there. You're the best girlfriend I've ever had."

Then he kissed me. Just a quick peck, mainly on the lips but not completely, because I hadn't turned enough.

"I love spending time with you. You even do the housework!"

I turned myself towards him and he kissed me again.

"As for that other stuff, I'm fine. I can manage myself. Don't worry about it."

It took me a moment before I said it.

"You wouldn't have to. I wouldn't mind doing what she said."

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closed it and looked into the distance, before he spoke again.

"You know what I'd really like? Really, really like?"

I waited.

"For you to be a girl all the time. At work as well."

I had contradictory emotions of excitement and fear at the thought, before I stammered a response.

"I'm going to take early retirement in just over a year, so I can be a woman all the time."

He snorted.

"Why retire? Why wait? Everybody likes you, and most of them saw you in a schoolgirl outfit. It'd be easy-peasy to say you like being that way all the time. I'm sure even the Big Boss would approve."

The Big Boss was Eunice, the boss's secretary, a woman about fifty, generally assumed to be the repository of all knowledge, and the real power behind the throne.

"I couldn't," I said. He didn't respond, but drove us to his home.