One for the Team Ch. 01

Reginald took a fistful of her hair and yanked Charlotte to her feet. He stared at his son's face with loathing and disgust. Still holding Charlotte by her hair he ran his fingers across her face, smearing her lipstick, blush, eyeliner and mascara and then he dragged her by her hair to the door and threw her onto the floor in the corridor.

"Go and wash that shit off your face and get changed into some proper clothes!" he growled, barely containing his anger.

Charlotte scampered along the floor, her heels skittering on the polished wood. She reached up and her fingers found the wainscoting and she hoisted herself unsteadily to her feet and staggered to the bathroom.

Reginald watched his pathetic excuse for a son lock himself and the bathroom and cursed.

"Fucking pansy!"

He and his wife had long suspected their youngest was different. Charles was small and effeminate in his ways, even the way he spoke. He was a loner who preferred his own company. Charles' mother Penelope had found his stash of feminine attire and hosiery and had spoken to Reginald about it. She also suspected that Charles was wearing his sister's clothes and borrowing things from the laundry basket. She'd found some of her intimates and nylons stained with semen.

Penelope encouraged Charles not to confront their son and 'beat it out of him' which was what Reginald wanted to do. She said it was a phase that a lot of teenage boys went through and that he would grow out of it.

When Charles started staying weekends at the cottage, in their mind pursuing outdoor activities, his parents were relieved. The stash of ladies clothing had disappeared from his bedroom and Charles had stopped fiddling with his sister's clothes and masturbating with their nylons.

"I should have guessed!" Reginald reprimanded himself and strode off to Charles' bedroom.

He ripped the wardrobe door open causing the hinges to buckle and flew into a rage when he saw the array of women's fashion hanging up and the shoes neatly paired together at the bottom of the wardrobe. He ripped the clothes off their hangers and threw them on the floor; the collection of high heels followed. Then he went over to the dresser and raked all of the cosmetics and accessories onto the pile and emptied the drawers full of lingerie and hosiery on top of the heap.

By then Charles was standing at the door wearing nothing but a towel, his face scrubbed clean and his smooth alabaster skin still damp.

"I need to get some clothes," he said timidly.

Reginald pushed past him.

"Get dressed and pack that pile of shit up and bring it out to the back garden," he growled.

Charles dressed in jeans T-shirt and trainers, all the time looking at his feminine accoutrements thrown together in a heap on the floor, crying but trying hard not to.

He scooped all of the clothing, shoes, makeup and accessories into two suitcases and two carry bags which he bought outside to the back garden as directed. He had to make two trips.

"Throw it in there!" his father pointed to a fire-pit that the family had sat around roasting chestnuts whilst warming themselves on crisp autumn evenings.

It broke Charles' heart to throw all of Charlotte's essentials on top of the kindling that his father had layered in the bottom of the pit.

"Now that," his father nodded sternly to a can of fire-starter liquid.

Charles shook his head.

Like lightning, his father's hand flew out and slapped him across the face.

"Do it you little poofter!" Reginald picked up the can of fire-starter and pushed it into Charles' chest.

Charles had no choice but to hold onto the can. His father made him shake the contents all over the clothes and other female accoutrements until the can was empty.

Reginald snatched the can out of his son's hand and thrust a box of matches, the kind that had long wooden shafts with red phosphorus tips.

Charles threw the matches on the ground.

His father picked them up and took one out. He forced the match into Charles' hand made him ignite it and then he held his son's hand over the fire-pit and squeezed it until Charles had no choice to release the match.

Everything that Charlotte owned went up in a sea of flames and became immediately engulfed in the blaze. Charles fell down onto the lawn and sobbed. His father spat into the roaring fire and went back inside the house. He came back with a pair of scissors.

"Hold still you fairy or you'll lose an eye!" Reginald huffed as he held down his struggling son and hacked at his hair, throwing the shorn locks into the fire.

When he had effectively shorn his son's head he grabbed Charles by the neck and forced him into the cottage and got him to pack up his things while he called for a taxi to take them to the railway station.

They both sat in the back of the taxi angry and silent.

"What was Betty doing at the cottage? Where you going to shag her? Does mom know?" Charles grumbled.

Reginald's fist flew out and connected with his son's cheek.

"Hey! Enough of that!" the taxi driver called from the front seat.

"Shut and drive," Reginald called back.

"Yes I was going to fuck her. That's what men do. They fuck pretty women; they don't dress up like one. Do you dream of being fucked like a woman when you're dressed like that? You disgust me!" Reginald yelled at his son.

"And of course mom knows. She likes a bit on the side too. A bit of young cock livens the old girl up and makes her a bit more chipper when I shag her," Reginald chuckled.

"Don't talk about mom like that!" Charles would never be able to look his mother straight in the eye again.

He'd suspected that his father played around, he was hardly ever home. But his mother! His mother was playing around too! His respect for his parents dissolved.

They transferred their bags from the taxi to the BMW at the train station and Charles climbed into the back so as to be as far away from his father as possible. His head was a mess of short spiky outcrops and dangly strands that his father had missed.

They stopped at a barber on the way home and Reginald took Charles inside.

"Short back and sides!" Reginald growled at the barber.

"I'm eighteen. I can decide how I want my hair cut," Charles protested.

But he had no choice really; his hair was in such disarray that only a short haircut would fix it.

Upon arriving home a family crisis meeting was held with Reginald, Penelope and Charles all shouting at each other. Charles' main argument was that he was technically an adult and could do as he pleased. Reginald countered that Charles didn't have a penny to his name but could do whatever he wanted but not while he was living under his roof.

Penelope acted as a calming influence; she didn't want to lose her son and definitely did not want to see him destitute. So she called for a compromise.

"I'm not going to pay his allowances and college fees so he can go around playing dressup!" he ranted.

"I'm not going to be told how to live my life!" Charles shouted back.

"What about if... what about if... Charles... you agree to curtail your dress-ups as your father calls them until you graduate from university and we give you access to your trust fund," Penelope began.

"Oh, bollocks to that!" Reginald swore.

"Let me finish!" Penelope said impatiently.

"But you go to a school of your father's choosing. Somewhere a bit less liberal," Penelope finally finished.

Charles knew he had no choice. He was reliant on his parents until he graduated. If he dropped out now he'd have nothing and be homeless.

Chelmsford Private College was a throwback to the long ago days of British boarding schools where the schoolmasters' authority was limited to the classroom. The school was beholden to a strict system whereby the upper housemen enforced discipline and good order on the junior housemen. It also had draconian rules such as: all boys must participate in a team sport: rugby, soccer or lacrosse. During their first year the boys must join the school cadet corps who paraded one night a week and held weekend bivouacs. The boys must abide by the code of conduct and defer to their seniors.

The College was elite and its academic performance was astounding with most of the students finishing in the upper ten percentile of their curricula.

Reginald loved the idea of Charles attending the school and Charles hated it.

Charles had no choice and was enrolled to start at the beginning of the next term.

*****

September 1984

Charles hated Chelmsford College as soon as he saw it. It was a large brooding grey granite monstrosity that had been continually added onto over the ensuing years since it had opened and it loomed over the manicured lawns, playing fields and flagstone parade ground. It was rectangular with five stories and towers and spires protruding haphazardly from the roof. The college was surrounded by dense woods, almost cutting it off from the outside world.

The minimum curriculum offered was a three year bachelor's degree and most stayed the additional two years for their masters. Tuition cost ten thousand pounds per annum with an additional ten thousand pound boarding fee. Charles was expected to perform at the highest level and make the most of the money his parents were paying for his education.

The junior year students joined the college over a long weekend where their parents dropped the young men off and saw them settled. Being young men out on their own for the first time, most were standoffish and embarrassed when their parents bade them tearful goodbyes. That was not the case with Charles, whose father dropped him off with his suitcases and a warning to work hard and do well and give up any pretentions he had of pretending to be a girl.

Charles just sneered at his father and went to find a luggage trolley to take his suitcases up to his dorm. He would not be going home for three months because during the first year of college the students were not allowed off campus except during the holidays between terms.

Charles was lucky; his father had paid for a single dorm room so he wouldn't be sharing. It was one of the stipulations that Charles said was a deal breaker and Penelope supported him. He claimed that living alone he could concentrate on his studies with a view to gaining his degree as soon as possible, which would both free him of being ensconced in a boarding school and limit his parent's financial obligations. It was agreed to by all three parties.

He found a luggage cart and loaded his three suitcases and two carry bags onto the cart which had one wheel that wanted to go in a different direction to the other three. He wheeled it to the rickety lift that looked like it had been in operation for at least fifty years. The lift rattled and groaned its way to the third floor where Charles' allocated dorm room was located at the end of the corridor. The room was considered luxurious by college standards but if it was a hotel room it would be lucky to rate two stars.

The cart banged into the wall half a dozen times on the way to his room courtesy of the wonky wheel but Charles managed to push the cart into his dorm room, unpack his luggage and take the cart back downstairs and stow it in its allocated space under the stairs in the foyer. He climbed the stairs back to his room rather than risking the dodgy lift and he was later to find out the juniors were not allowed to use the lifts anyway unless they were hauling a load of some sort.

Charles locked himself in his room and surveyed what was to be his home for at least the next three years.

The main room was a simple box with a window that looked over the quadrangle; the walls were papered in fading and water-stained wallpaper. Charles went to the window which was painted shut, a dozen or so new arrivals were wandering around looking confused as they tried to find their dorms. Charles closed the thick drapes and turned on the overhead light and the floor and desk lamps. He lugged the three suitcases to the bed which was roughly the equivalent of a king single. The carry bags contained luxuries that his mother had packed for him and he stowed them away in a small cupboard next to the heavy desk which was pushed against the wall opposite the bed beside a small dressing table. The scarred old oak furniture made the room feel cramped.

One suitcase contained his army uniform and fatigues that he would wear when he paraded with the school cadet corps. His father had actually accompanied Charles to the tailor for the final fitting of his dress uniform and he almost swelled with pride when he saw his son dressed in his Private's uniform. Charles hated it. He hung up the uniform, and fatigues, and the boots he had been told to spit-polish went on the floor under the uniform; the cap on a shelf above. The second suitcase contained his school uniforms: grey trousers, white long-sleeved shirt, a blazer with the school emblem on the pocket and a jumper with the school's colours in piping around the collar and cuffs, two school ties and black brogues. Into the drawers went a selection of underpants, vests and socks.

The last suitcase contained his PT rig, trainers, some personal effects, toiletries and pyjamas. These also got packed away in the large, three-door wardrobe; on the back of one wardrobe door was a full-length mirror. He took the toiletries kit into the bathroom which consisted of a large stained porcelain enamelled bathtub, an equally water-stained sink; a small cabinet over the sink had a mirror on the door with the silver backing peeling away in places. There was a toilet with a wooden seat and bucket full of cleaning products that he would have to replace from his own funds as he used them.

Except for a weekly change of sheets left outside the dorm room each Friday, there was no such thing as room service and he was expected to keep his room immaculately clean. The upper housemen and faculty could inspect his room any time they felt like it and he had to stand formal rounds every Monday morning before classes.

Charles checked the door was locked and then came back to the bed and opened the zippered compartment in the third suitcase and he smiled for the first time since he had arrived at Chelmsford College.

He had been secretly purchasing and squirreling away his contraband since he had agreed to enrol at Chelmsford Private College. Before him, neatly folded in the suitcase were two skirts, two blouses, a micro-mini cocktail dress, three sets of bras and knickers, two suspender belts, two pairs of high heels, several packages of stockings and tights, three wigs, a cosmetics case, a small valise full of costume jewellery, packets of facial wipes and face cream. He took out the small bottle of perfume and sprayed just a scintilla into the air and breathed in the delicious aroma.

Charlotte might be down but she was not out.

Against the wall opposite the bed and close to the door was a lowboy on which sat a small colour television, a VCR, and a cassette player-radio combination. These luxuries were paid for by his parents but could be taken away at any time should he transgress the school rules.

Charles fingered the video cassette that his father had forgotten to burn when he had burnt all of Charlotte's belongings at the family cottage. He put the copy of Trans Sexcretary into the suitcase that contained Charlotte's new clothes, locked it and put it away in the top of the wardrobe and put the other suitcases on the shelf next to it.

He produced a brown paper bag which contained a simple steel hasp-and-staple door bolt, fitting-screws, and a screwdriver which he had bought at a hardware store. It took him a while to fit the hasp and staple to the solid oak door and the architrave surrounding it because he had no means of drilling into the wood, but once he got the screws started he was able to exert enough force to secure them. He was happy with his handiwork; the last thing he wanted was someone to come barging into his dorm while was dressed as Charlotte.

It was time explore the college grounds. He had visited the college when his enrolment had been accepted and one of the lower housemen had given him a cursory tour of the place but it was time to get acquainted with his new home.

*****

Charles took the stairs to the ground floor and crossed the quadrangle to the college proper. A small group of boys were reading a noticeboard and Charles sidled up to it. There were several notices pinned to the board for the attention of the lower housemen. The first notice he read was a flyer advising for all of the freshmen to muster in the Grand Hall at eight o'clock on Monday for induction. The second was the selections for team sports. Charles was slim and fit and could run fast, he'd been a cross-country runner at his previous school and there was cross-country running here at Chelmsford but it wasn't considered a team sport. It was offered as an alternative for the twice-weekly PT sessions.

Charles had selected soccer as his first choice, then lacrosse and put down rugby as his least desired sport. He been selected for rugby and was disappointed. The next notice he read was the house selections. There were four houses at Chelmsford College named after the heraldry and blazon on the Chelmsford City coat of arms. They houses were: Lion, River, Crozier and Bridge and the school motto 'Many Minds One Heart' was also taken from that heraldry.

Charles was to be inducted into Bridge House. The College kept the archaic House system alive and Charles had read the leaflet provided in the 'joining pack' the school had sent him with some trepidation. It stated:

The upper housemen have a responsibility to be exercised by them over the lower boys, for the sake of securing a regular government among the young men themselves, and avoiding the evils of anarchy. Chelmsford Private College maintains the tradition and recognises that the advantages of thus granting the young men a kind of autonomy have stood the test of time is obvious from the fact that this system existed in almost all the great public schools founded during the 19th century. The rights of the upper housemen carry with it certain well-defined duties. The housemaster is the protector of his House, and responsible for their happiness and good conduct. In cases of bullying or injustice their appeal is to the house master not to the form master, and, except in the gravest cases, all such cases are dealt with by the housemaster on his own responsibility and without report to the form master.

What Charles interpreted this to mean was that the lower housemen were committed to a form of vassalage and subjugation to the upper housemen, with little right to appeal to the faculty if they feel they are being treated unfairly.

Charles noticed that already some of the new students were starting to bond within their houses. They sought out other members of their House and introduced themselves. He had no interest in doing so, he was here under sufferance and would abide by the school rules but he didn't have to like it. He continued to explore the college and located the Grand Hall, the dining room in which the tables were arranged by Houses with the upper housemen's tables being at the front and lower housemen's tables at the rear of cavernous room. There was a gym, an indoor heated swimming pool and of course lecture theatres and classrooms.

Charles purposely located every place that he would need to be during the ensuing days of indoctrination so that he didn't look like a dummy who didn't know where to go and when. He studiously read and reread the timetable he had received in the joining pack and located the venue for each activity. He eventually found the Bridge House common room which was the domain exclusively for the housemen of Bridge House. Emblazoned on the door was the heraldic three arched stone bridge that crossed the River Can. He tried the door but found it locked.