Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 62.

– Find Part 1 here – Chapter list here –

In a slumber I slowly woke.  I could feel the rise and the fall of the soft breathing of a form beside me and I quickly remembered 30.

My face was pressed against her shoulder, warm but a little hard.  I could vaguely smell the scent of her.  I remained still savouring the delicate aromas.  I think she used a lavender soap, but behind it I could smell her armpit.

I know this is going to sound a little odd, but the smell was uniquely pleasant to me.  I supposed this was just another of the changes I was experiencing. The aromas of this sleeping form made me feel almost happy. I’d never noticed that before. I could stay here all night, just immersed in 30’s warmth and scent.

I luxuriated, slowly bringing my attention to my own body, and how it felt beside 30. My forearm rested across her belly, a hand lightly resting on her hip.  And I could feel the warmth of her leg where mine lay slightly over hers. I drew the picture in my mind slowly becoming aware that at some level I had fallen into a pose, pressed against her stronger, more virile body. I was her girl. She the stronger, the alpha. It felt comfortable.

With this realisation came the thought that I knew she’d be going away soon. She’d mentioned something about surgery. My arm drifted lower. Over a small tuft of pubic hair to her cage. I cradled it in the palm of my hand. It brought a smile to my face, even as I still lay there. How secure it felt.

Still she slept on, her hair tumbling over her face. I pushed it aside and kissed her, and a sleepy smile crept over her face, but she slept on.

In a moment I was aware of my own captive state as my body responded. 30 looked so peaceful. I moved softly and slowly sat up. My body was returning to a calmer state as I glanced at the window.

A full moon shone down outside.  I slid from beneath the covers and moved quietly over to the window. The courtyard was lit by the cold white light of the moon, and I stared down at it for a moment. I wondered how many of us were here.  And how long had we been here.  These were subjects that were clearly off limits, but now, with 30 lying peacefully in my bed, perhaps now was the time to learn these things.

I was about to turn from the window when a motion by the stables caught my eye.  I thought for a moment I had been mistaken, but there it was again. In the shadows, a movement. There was no doubt about it. Someone was down there and they were moving among the shadows. There they were again, furtive and trying to stay out of the moonlight.

I thought about waking the lovely 30, but I would learn little like that. As lovely as she was, I couldn’t be sure how she’d react. Better to just go and see what I could see for myself.

With that I pulled on a pair of panties, a skirt and a sweater. I slipped quietly out of the room and noted how still the house was. I paused in the hallway to listen, and see if anyone else was up. Satisfied I was the only one moving within the building I swiftly moved down the corridor and silently down the stairs.

Rather than slip out the side door, in full view of whoever was watching the building, I quietly opened the front door, and slipped out onto the driveway, and being careful not to allow the gravel to make too much sound beneath my feet, I quietly worked my way round behind the stable block, so I could approach the shadowy lurker from behind.

As I moved into the barn, behind where I’d seen the person in the shadows, I took every precaution to move as silently as I was able.  As my eyes adjusted to the light I found I could see well, and there, silhouetted against the moonlight lit courtyard was the Butterworth boy quietly watching the building.  I paused. What would I be getting into if I took the few steps forward and challenged him?

It occurred to me that I could just quietly withdraw and return to a nice warm bed, 30’s armpit, and the luxury of her embrace. How tempting the thought was, and yet something drew e forward.

Now for a moment, I’d like you to imagine we can just pause this little scene because I suddenly experienced an usual moment of awareness. I noticed several things at once.

Firstly, this boy was physically not very imposing. In some way I thought, ‘If anything got physical he’s a light weight.’ And while I have played and enjoyed many very physical sports, this was an activity I’d indulged in while in a masculine body and mindset. This moment was different for me. I was firmly in my feminine mindset now. I wore panties a skirt, and I was frightened. While rationally I was aware I had nothing to fear, some other part of my mind viewed this as a potentially dangerous situation and I was reacting accordingly. I felt like a frightened little girl.

In a wave of awareness the meaning of the TERF comments I’d heard about trans girls not having the female experience of ‘having to treat every first date as a potentially life threatening situation’ suddenly came home to me with almost floodlit clarity. And I felt it viscerally.

Returning to the moment I decided I’d better drop this foolishness. Consciously focussing on my pounding heartbeat I breathed more quietly and told myself to relax, and gently stepped backward. He’d never know I was here.

And that was when I stepped right back into a bucket, that clanged and rolled slowly across the barn floor.

+++

The startled boy turned to me and started moving in my direction. I turned on my heel about to sprint into the night, when I found myself face to face with his unseen companion, who taking my arm in a vice like grip slammed his hand over my mouth.

I struggled to pull away, but the boy’s friend was no lightweight. He was a big man, and his hand seemed to cover most of my face. I pulled away but couldn’t break free.

For a brief moment I thought to myself, ‘Andrea, how could you be so bloody silly. You could be in bed with 30 right now, instead of doing ‘this’, whatever ‘this’ is!’

I tried to stay calm. Perhaps I could control this situation.

“Calm down, big boy,” I said trying to keep the fear from my voice, but failing as I heard the quiver of nervousness in my words. “Not every girl likes it rough, you know.”

“Shut up or I’ll break your arm, you little bitch!” said the gorilla holding my arm. Well, at least he didn’t misgender me. Then he turned to the Butterworth boy, and said, “We’ve got one of them. Let’s take her for a ride and see what this little canary wants to sing about.”

He gave a little laugh and then, in true evil villain fashion said, “It’ll be fun.”

I tried to laugh confidently, but couldn’t pull it off, but said, “What are you going to do, take me back to your tree house and tell your friends you caught a girl?”

I didn’t even see the hand that smacked my face in a hard open handed slap. I felt blood on my lips. The man raised his hand about to deliver a second blow, and I flinched and pulled back, but he just held his hand there.

The two of them sniggered. My own reaction was to cower pathetically, and also to think, ‘Oh god, not this again!’

I was about to explain that there was no need to be so rough with me when I found my captor had taken a rag from his pocket and jammed it into my mouth. A moment later I heard duct tape being unrolled and before I could struggle free I felt it wrapped around my head securing my mouth closed.

As they marched me silently across one of the pastures in the darkness I couldn’t help wondering if this was the big man’s handkerchief he’d shoved in my mouth. It was probably not freshly laundered. Looking at his brutish form, though, I doubted it. This wasn’t the kind of man that would routinely carry a handkerchief. And this wasn’t the kind of man whose idea of fun was likely to coincide with my own.

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