Louisa and I were of the same age, lived with our mothers only a few streets from each other, and attended the same Secondary school. Yet, we had never met. In the 1950s, the belief that boys and girls should be kept apart and raised separately still held sway and was strictly enforced. Incredible as it may seem today, a boy or girl observed so much as talking to each other would certainly be punished for wanton behaviour. Believe me, there were plenty of busybodies and miseries around only too happy to snitch on youngsters that they considered as being too close. This was a recipe for disaster because nothing could stop the natural curiosity that boys and girls have for each other. So, many kids got thrashed just for being inquisitive or friendly. There was no point in protesting because adults were always correct and never listened to or believed anything youngsters said.

By far, the most extreme example of this stupidity was a brother and sister getting the belt for chatting together. They told the teacher that they were brother and sister and talking about things at home. This just made things worse because teachers, in those days, were demigods whose word was law and could not be challenged. So, they accused the brother and sister of lying and gave them extra-severe thrashings for immorality and deceit. As typical for that age, their parents dared not challenge the teachers and even hinted that the kids deserved the punishment. What were they thinking? With those attitudes, is it any wonder our generation has so many loose screws?

I was an only child raised solely by my mother after my father left when I was five years old. Even from that early age, I had no interest in boys’ rough games or sports. Instead, I preferred reading and art and became increasingly immersed in these pastimes as I got older. It was generally believed that my less than macho behaviour was due to the lack of a father figure/disciplinarian in my life. So, many supposed alpha males took it upon themselves to encourage me to see the error of my ways and turn me into a man. As a result, I was bullied relentlessly over the years. Also, my hands and bottom were regularly acquainted with the agonizing delights of the two- or three-tailed tawse by a seemingly never-ending stream of sadistic teachers. They often reduced me to tears, but I am glad to say they did not break me. Instead, it steeled me into proving their claims that ‘a sissy like me would never amount to anything’ were wrong. Qualifying to go to university was a good start but judging by the silence from those very haughty teachers, it counted for nothing.

At lunchtime, I often went to a small woodland not far from the school just to get away from my tormentors. One day during my final year at school, I was strolling one of its pathways when I heard someone crying. I soon spotted a girl sitting in a clearing sobbing her eyes out. Seeing her in such distress, all the commands about staying away from girls flew out of the window. I went to find out if she needed any help.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

I had tried not to startle her, but she was clearly shocked and frightened to find me standing nearby and shouted at the top of her voice, “Go away, leave me alone, you monster.”

“I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you. I just wanted to be sure that you are alright.”

She had calmed down a little by then and said, “I am sorry too. I should not have yelled at you. I thought that you were another bully out to torment me.”

Given my experiences, her words struck me to the core. I had always believed that boys were rowdy and boorish while girls were all sweetness and light. But clearly, the reality was quite different – girls were just as capable of bullying their compatriots as any boy.

I did not want her to feel threatened, so I sat down a short distance from her on the ground.

“Hi, I am George. What is your name? Tell me, what is wrong? What is going on?”

“Hi, George. Thank you for caring about me. I am being bullied by girls at school. They pick on me, call me names, and humiliate me in public because I am not one of the air-head crowd. I am not interested in their girly-girl ways. I want to study and have a meaningful career. I do not want to just be a trophy on some man’s arm. Somehow, this makes me a female traitor and fair game for their spite and lies. They say the most disgusting and despicable things about me and even accuse me of being a boy in drag.”

Louisa started crying again.

I was left speechless. Our situations had much in common, but I had no real idea how to support Louisa. Had she been a boy, I could have given her advice drawn from my experiences. But I was totally ignorant about girls and their behaviour, so my advice might worsen rather than help the situation. I was between a rock and a hard place. I could not ignore Louisa's dreadful plight, but I did not know how best to help her. I needed to understand much more of the how and why of what was happening to her.

I handed her my handkerchief. “Shush now, dry those tears. Let us talk this over. I am a good listener.”

“Do you really mean that? I have always been told that boys are self-centred, uncaring oafs. That is one reason why I find the slurs by the girls so hurtful.”

“Well, that image is true of most macho boys, but we are not all like that. I am an outsider and outcast, just like you. So maybe we can share ideas and help each other through these difficult times. It is just a pity that we need to head back to school soon. How about meeting here at lunchtime tomorrow?”

Louisa smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you. That will be great.”

We set off back to school, being careful to take entirely separate routes to not be spotted together by busybodies or, worse still, other school pupils. We did not see each other again over the rest of the school day, but as I was heading home, I saw Louisa being harangued by a group of girls. I was about to throw caution to the wind and intervene when some boys who wanted to correct my sissy ways pounced on me.

Louisa was gone before I escaped their attentions. I could not get her out of my head that night and found it hard to get to sleep. The following morning was a bit of a blur. I was caught daydreaming and further acquainted with the supposed educative properties of the heavy tawse.   

I set off for the clearing as soon as the lunchtime bell rang. I reached there just as Louisa arrived from another direction. We both sat down and hummed and hawed because we did not know how to get started. Eventually, Louisa broke the ice.

“I am glad that you are here. Thank you for seeing me. For the first time in ages, I no longer feel alone. My teachers and parents do not want to hear about what is happening. In fact, I think they see it just as part of growing up and learning to stand on your own two feet.”

Those words hit me hard. What is wrong with people that they can turn a blind eye to such horrible conduct? Is that how they were treated as youngsters, or are they just afraid of anyone that does not conform and might upset their cosy status quo?

Our get-together was to be a complete release for Louisa. She talked almost nonstop for three-quarters of an hour. She described in harrowing detail what her tormentors were inflicting upon her. The belittling and shaming of Louisa in public and the disgusting gossip spread by the girls was nothing short of psychological torture. But, most frightening for me was just how close they were to causing Louisa to break down.

Louisa seemed more at peace after she had revealed and detailed her traumas to me.  There is a lot of truth in the saying that a problem shared is a problem halved. Her brighter, more upbeat demeanour continued in the following days but was entirely broken by Friday lunchtime. When Louisa arrived at school that morning, the gang of girls began publicly badgering and humiliating her. They continued their assault at lunchtime, but eventually, she was to run away and escape their attentions. Louisa was a complete wreck when she finally reached the clearing. For the first time, I took her in my arms and hugged her.

“Hush, hush, I will help you get through this.”

We held it together for a long time without saying a word. Louisa's tears soaked the back of my shirt. When we finally separated, she said, “Thank you for caring for me. I would be lost without your support. I had decided to skip school this afternoon just to get away from the aggravation, but now I am not so sure.”

“Do not do that. You know that is just what these girls want. They will think that they are winning and will just become even more callous and ferocious. I know that it will not be easy, but you must face them down.”

“I know that you are right, but it will be difficult. I think that the bullies are particularly harsh on me on Fridays so that they can ruin my whole weekend. They are merciless.”

“I know. I wish I could be with you to help, but that would just make things worse. You must be strong and face them on your own. However, we can shoot the breeze tomorrow if it would help.”

“That would be marvellous. Saturday is always a bad day for me. I am on my own and usually depressed after all the hassle of the week. What about coming round to mine? Mum will be away until late in the afternoon. If you come to the back door, none of the local snoopers will see you.”

“Yes, that will be fine if it is okay for you.”

Louisa and I hugged again and headed back to school. For the remainder of the day, I could not help wondering how she was coping with those bullies.

The following morning, I walked along several back lanes to Louisa's home. Finally, I got into the garden unseen via the rear gate, knocked on the back door and was let in by Louisa. She tried to smile, but I could see by her red puffy eyes that she was suffering.

“I am sorry. I kept it together while Mum was still here, but I lost it as soon as I was on my own.”

I hugged Louisa. “Do not be sorry. You have a friend with you now.”

Louisa was shaking but slowly settled a little. I was close to tears myself when she told me what those tyrants had done to her on Friday afternoon.”

As I continued to hug Louisa, I said, “I do not yet know when or how, but I can assure you that I will make sure those horrible girls get their comeuppance.”

“I cannot imagine how that is possible, but I am glad you are with me.”

Louisa was still trembling, overcoming frustration, pain, and intense anger due to recent events. I knew that she needed to get rid of this rage, but how? My go-to method of stress relief was jacking off. But in my ignorance, I had no idea that Louisa could also enjoy the salving effects of self-pleasure, just not in my boy way. So, I had to think of an alternative method for her to purge her angst. Then, out of the blue, I had a flashback to my last belting by a teacher. I remembered that he was incandescent with rage but was calm and collected after the tawse had transferred all his anger to my bum. Straightaway, a plan, albeit a strange one, came into my head.

“Can you go and get your school uniform, lay everything out on your bed and then come back to the sitting room?”

“Pardon me, what are you on about? Have you gone off your head?”

“No, just trust me. I have a plan.”

I could see that Louisa was very unsure about this. Eventually, she went to her room and then came back a few minutes later. “Okay, what now.”

“You sit down here, and I will be back in a few minutes.”

Louisa settled down on the sofa while I headed to her room. As I entered, I saw that her school wear was on the bed. I will admit that I now had doubts about my great idea, but there was no way of back having set the ball in motion.

I shut the door, stripped to the buff, and picked up the bottle-green knickers. I shivered as I touched and held them for the first time. Every young boy fantasizes about this bewitching garment and its female secrets, and now Louisa’s undies were in my hands. I could hardly believe how thin and soft they were compared to my heavy, rough skivvies. Further, enthralling surprises awaited as I put them on. First, I gasped as the leg elastic dug into my mid-thighs and the waistband settled in place. Then, I sighed with delight as the three taut rings of the elastic combined to draw the panties into a figure-hugging but cosy sheath around my nether regions.

Many will not understand this gushing reaction to knickers. They are just another pair of underwear, after all. However, this is far from the case. Suppose rough ill-fitting boys’ underpants are all you have ever known. In that case, the first time in panties is a magical experience. You are instantly enveloped and transformed by their sheer femininity. Happily, they still retain that mystique for me today, and I get the same sensual thrill every time I slip into a pair.

I then put on the vest and blouse, followed by the pleated skirt. I sat on the edge of the bed while I slipped on the socks and shoes, and to my horror, I noticed my reflection in the wardrobe mirror. My legs were spread, and the skirt had slipped back, leaving my pantied crotch in splendid full view. I went bright red not only from the embarrassment of revealing so much but also from shame. I remembered all too many times that I had laughed when a girl had her skirt flipped or accidentally flashed her panties. Although my mishap was not in public, it was still a shocking and salutary lesson. It was not funny to be so exposed. It was frightening. No wonder the girls got so upset. I quickly made myself decent, resolving never to be insensitive to girls’ wardrobe calamities ever again.

I got up, looked in the mirror, and checked that everything was okay. I was surprised to find that I was calm and comfortable in the uniform. I had expected to feel unsettled or to be a little afraid. However, I did not dwell on this for long. I put it down to the excitement of playing dress-up.

I picked up a large hairbrush from Louisa’s dressing table, opened the bedroom door, and headed out along the corridor to the sitting room. Louisa’s eyes virtually popped out of her head when she saw me. She spluttered several times before finally saying, "Why are you dressed like that? What are you up to?”

“Calm down. You told me that you wanted to give that bully Jenny her just desserts. That cannot happen anytime soon, but I can be her proxy and allow you a way to vent your anger on her.”

“Oh, I could never do that. I could never hurt you.”

"Do not be silly. You know that you really want to thrash Jenny. Now is your chance.”

I handed Louisa the hairbrush, went to the end of the sofa and bent over the arm.

“Flip the skirt over my back and look at the pantied bum. Then, close your eyes and picture it as Jenny’s rear. As you do that, think of what she has done to you and let your anger flow. When you are ready, do what you really want to do.”

Nothing happened at first, but eventually, Louisa moved behind me and folded back my skirt. Despite the bottle green knickers, my rear became cold while Louisa took time to synch herself up.  

Louisa pulled back the hairbrush and then, in quickfire succession, smacked my left cheek and then the right. These hits were light and tentative, but their shock value was enough to make me groan at each one. This reaction clearly swept away any lingering reservations on Louisa’s part because the next strikes were more brutal and became increasingly severe as Louisa rallied to the cause. I quickly found out that knickers may be nice, but they give far less bum protection than boy pants. In her enthusiasm, Louisa was causing almost as much pain in my rear as any male teacher. My bum was on fire, but Louisa’s anger was still intense as the count reached twenty per cheek. On and on, she pummelled my tushie until it was glowing like a three-bar fire. I have no idea of the tally, but I cried like a baby before Louisa eventually stopped out of sheer exhaustion.

Louisa now sat on the sofa beside me and hugged me. "I am so sorry, but once I got started, I could not stop myself. Unfortunately, you were correct. Once the image of Jenny’s bum was in my mind, I knew that I wanted to cause it the maximum pain no matter what. Again, I am so sorry to have hurt you so much.”

“Well, there is no need to be if it worked for you. Are you still strung out? Did trashing Jenny’s bottom dispel all that rage?”

“Yes, it has. I can hardly believe it. I have not felt so calm in ages. How can I ever thank you?”

“The fact that my plan worked, and you are now more at peace is rewarding enough. Now leave me alone for a while. Jenny’s behind needs to cool down and recuperate.”

Louisa did not dawdle and quickly headed off to her bedroom. I flopped face down on the couch and ever so gently pushed my knickers down, clear of my blazing behind. I sighed with relief as cold air touched the fiery surface and began drawing heat away from it. After all the pain, this was absolute bliss. Funnily, I remember thinking that Jenny had no idea how much I had just suffered because of her. Still, I knew that somehow, she must get her just desserts to stop her intolerable behaviour. But that was for another day.

I eventually dozed off, so I do not know how long elapsed before I heard Louisa coming back.  I was busy trying to pull up my panties to maintain a modicum of dignity when I got a clear look at her. I could hardly believe my eyes. Louisa was dressed in my clothes.

“I hope you do not mind. I have always wondered what it was like to dress as a boy and could not give this opportunity a miss.”

At first, I could not say anything, my lips were opening and shutting, but nothing coherent came out. Then, finally, I strung some words together.

"No problem at all. It seems strange to me, but I am glad that you took the chance to fulfill your dream. If I may say so, you look far better in them than I do.”

“That is so kind. I thought that we could enjoy the rest of the day together. In the meantime, you should get out of that formal uniform and slip into something a bit more casual.”

I did not argue since I presumed that she had set out something for me. I got up and walked very gingerly walked along to her room. To my surprise, the clothes on the bed were the ones that she had been wearing previously. It did make sense. She had put on my clothes and expected me to slip into hers.

I undressed, carefully put Louisa’s uniform onto hangers and placed them in the closet. I folded the knickers and socks, laid them on a chair, and put the shoes underneath. Then, I turned my attention to the attire on the bed and was amazed. While the uniform had been all functional and formal, these clothes were casual and very feminine. The panties were particularly stunning - bright pink, silky and high cut. In sensual terms, they were as far removed from regulation school knickers as they, in turn, were from boys’ undies. I quivered with delight as I pulled them on. The feminine fragrances that wafted over me as they settled in place just added to a special moment.

I then picked up what I guessed was the most secret of female undergarments, the bra. While I knew what it was for, I had never seen one being worn, so all those straps and clasps were a bit of mystery. But after many, many fumbling attempts, I eventually got it clasped into place. Now, when I glanced in the mirror, from the neck down, I saw a young boy’s fantasy, a girl in bra and panties. This was even more convincing since my breasts had been gathered up and were now filling out the small bra cups just as they would with a teenage girl.

I then slipped into the knee-length summer dress, zipped it at the back, brushed it into place, and closed the waist belt. Finally, I put on Louisa’s socks and sandals, this time being careful not to flash my panties. I still, however, got one surprise when I looked in the mirror – just how much my cleavage was emphasized by the cut of the dress. My boobs were pert and eye-catching and would be the envy of many a girl.  

Louisa smiled happily when I appeared back in the sitting room, and I blushed profusely when she said, “Wow, I should be jealous. You look great in that dress. Now, there is only one thing missing.”

Louisa produced two short-haired wigs and put one on me and one on herself. “Now, you look like my sister, and I am your brother.”

Louisa and I then spent a wonderful day together, chatting, playing board games, and enjoying the sunshine in the back garden. It was well hidden, so there was no risk of us being seen, but I admit I was nervous while we were outside. After we had a snack together, Louisa went to her room and returned with a pair of pyjamas.

I looked at her quizzically, but she said, “There is no need to be startled. Mum will be home soon, so we need to get back into our own clothes. If we both change into pyjamas, we can then exchange our gear and redress without immodesty.”

“What a good idea. I would not have thought of that.”

Louisa led me through to her Mum's bedroom, and she went to hers. I stripped off, carefully folded up her clothes and put on the pair of pink pyjamas. I was admiring myself in the mirror when Louisa knocked on the door. When she entered, I saw that she was wearing the same pyjamas and was stunned at how alike we were. We could almost have passed as twins. Louisa did not appear to notice this. She only handed me my boys’ clothes, picked up hers, and went back to the other room.

Louisa and I were both a little dejected when we got together later in the sitting room. I knew that I felt a little down to be back in my boy’s clothes and saw that Louisa also seemed unhappy to have switched back. I should have twigged to the significance of these reactions, but I did not. So instead, I wrote them off as sadness over the end of our enjoyable day together.

I hugged Louisa before setting off home. “Usual time and place on Monday, if that is okay for you?”

Louisa nodded. "That will be good. I am sure I will have a bad time at school, so I will need my friend’s support.”

“Be strong, and if you are faltering, close your eyes and think of what your hairbrush did to ‘Jenny’s bottom’ today."

As she waved goodbye, she smiled and said, “I will.”

I got home late in the afternoon, and of course, Mum wanted to know where I had been. She was more than happy when I said that I had just had a good day with a new friend. Thankfully, she did not want any details.

Monday came around all too soon, and it was back to the usual harassment at school. For me, things went better than expected until Friday, when one of my teachers was in a foul mood and decided I was impudent. In their usual sympathetic manner, the rest of the class giggled when he told me to go to his office after school. They thought that my bare bottom was going to feel the wrath of the tawse, and it did. I can assure you, the sadist teacher did not hold back in venting his anger upon it.

Louisa was quite happy when we met at Monday lunchtime. She had been hassled by the girl gang but was able to brush them off. Unfortunately, her mood declined as the week went on, despite my best efforts to bolster her. By Friday, she was in as bad a shape as the week before. I knew what type of therapy she needed, and we agreed to meet again on Saturday. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that I would have a painful encounter with a teacher that afternoon, but it would not have made a difference. I wanted to help Louisa, no matter what.

My rear was still stingy when I headed to Louisa’s house the next day. Again, I saw that she had been crying that morning, and I quickly said, “You know what to do. Set out your uniform.”

“Are you sure that you want to go through with this again?”

She did smile when I said, “Yes, it is important for you.”

Before long, I was over the sofa with my bottle-green knickers in full view, and Louisa had a plimsoll in her hand.

She hesitated when I gave her this mighty weapon but accepted the challenge when I said, “It is okay, I know what I am doing. Just picture Jenny as she harassed you yesterday. Think what you want to do to her ass and go for it.”

That declaration must have done the trick because Louisa was not tentative in the least this time. The first smacks to each buttock were vicious, and then they just kept on coming one dose of severe pain after the other. I was bawling nonstop before Louisa finally purged the last of her anger. However, it was all worthwhile. Through my tears, I saw afterwards that Louisa was spent but entirely at peace with herself. Furthermore, when she reappeared later dressed in my clothes, she looked content and happy.  

I got up, tidied myself, and headed to the bathroom, where I dried my eyes and washed my face. I then went to Louisa’s room and found her clothes laid out on the bed. I quickly took off the uniform and hung it up. As before, I quivered with joy when I pulled on the pink panties and was overcome by their sensual feel and aromatic scents. This time I fitted the bra far more quickly, then I put on the summer skirt and blouse and finally the socks and sandals. I went over to the dressing table where Louisa had left the wig and put it on. As I looked in the mirror, I saw that I could pass as a girl, but probably only at a distance. That said, the top made my boobs look so conspicuous that no boy was likely to pay much attention to my face. As before, I found myself remarkably at ease to be dressed in Louisa’s clothes and could think of no reason why this would be. I was a boy, after all.

Louisa and I then had a pleasant day together, chatting, playing board games, and doing household chores. This resulted in me going outside to take in the laundry from the washing lines at the far end of the garden. While it was well hidden at ground level, the area could be seen from some upper floor windows of neighbouring houses.

When I pointed this out, Louisa said, “Do not worry. It is far enough away that anyone looking out of their window will just see me taking in the washing.”

I had to admit that she was correct and headed outside to retrieve the clothes from the washing lines. Unfortunately, I got so engrossed with this task that I did not pay attention to my posture or closeness to the back gate. Then, as I bent down to put a blouse into the basket, I was shocked to hear whistling.

“Where have you been hiding, darling? We have not seen such a good show in a long time.”

Yes, I had flashed my knickers, and of course, three boys were standing behind the gate to see the whole spectacle. I went bright red but quickly regain composure and covered my embarrassment.

The boys groaned and wandered off, shouting, “What a shame to hide such a nice ass. We hope to see it again soon.”

I finished off my task and headed back indoors with the filled baskets. When I told Louisa about the incident, she shook with laughter.

“You have just experienced the hazard that girls risk every day, the inadvertent undie flash. Unfortunately, it is a fact of nature that it will happen to every girl at some point, no matter how much care she takes. We just have to accept it and get on with life.”

“I know that it happens, but why are boys always there when it does. Take today, there was no obvious reason for those lads to be in the area, but they appeared exactly when I revealed more than I should.”

“I do not know how, but boys do seem to have the uncanny ability to know when a girl is at risk of a pantie mishap, and they gather for the show. I remember one old lady telling me that this does not happen by chance. She said that knicker elastic is the equivalent of a dog whistle for males. When touched by the slightest glint of daylight, tightly stretched elastic sends out a ‘something-to-see-here’ signal that can be heard only by nearby men and boys. The idea is far-fetched, but if true would certainly explain a lot. Remember, the elastic is produced in factories run exclusively by men.”

“Interesting, I will try to keep it in the dark in future.”

“Good luck with that. Despite my best efforts, I am still regularly caught out.”

Louisa and I had a short refreshment break, and she then taught me how to iron and fold the laundered clothes. Being used to the limited choice of clothing for boys, I was bemused by the wide range of female attire, so many pretty designs, and colours even amongst the panties. It was no wonder that girls hated to wear those shapeless regulation knickers when there were oh so many sensual ones to choose from. As we hung the ironed clothes up in closets or placed them in drawers, I realized that I had seen only a tiny proportion of the beautiful outfits available to Louisa. So, why was she so keen on wearing my boys’ wear?

Later in the day, while we had a snack, I plucked up the courage to ask her and got an astounding answer.

“I am harangued by girls for being an unfeminine tomboy. They do have a point, but that cannot wholly explain my situation. I feel that I have as little in common with other tomboys as with girly girls. I have for some time had suspicions as to why I do not fit with the female norm, but it was only last week that I realized their truth. I found that I was more comfortable and at ease while dressed as a boy than a girl. I have no idea how it is possible, but I now think that I have the body of a girl but the mentality of a boy.”

You can easily imagine that there was absolute silence for quite some time as I tried to grasp this out-of-left-field statement.

“You do not have to say anything. I know how stunning this will be for you. I am still struggling to get to grips with it myself.”

“My apologies, I did not want to make you feel uncomfortable. However, just as you have said, I am having difficulties with the concept.”

“That is okay. Promise that we keep this between us, and please keep being my friend. You have become my rock.”

“You are my best friend. I will keep this a secret and will continue to be here for you.”

“Thank you, I am so relieved and happy.”

Soon after our conversation, we re-exchanged clothes as before and then said our goodbyes. I hugged Louisa before heading off home. My head was in a total spin, and I did not know what to think.

I could not switch off or get to sleep that night. Life was supposed to be simple - girls were girls, boys were boys and as different as chalk and cheese. But Louisa’s assertion that she was a boy in a girl’s body had blown a significant hole in this core belief. If she were correct, the distinction between girls and boys was far from clear - girls could have masculine instincts, and boys could have feminine ones. It eventually dawned on me that this concept better matched the realities of the playground, where many kids did not strictly conform to their gender stereotype. A few diverged as far as to be tomboy girls, and sissy boys and possibly further. This cross-over in gender characteristics indicated that the present clear-cut views about boys and girls were wrong. Although I did not understand how it was possible, I realized that their physical and mental development must in some way be separate processes and a little imprecise. This would likely result in alpha girls and boys being the norm but with some permutations in between.

I knew that I was a sissy boy, but these new revelations about gender caused me to question even this assumption. After all, I had absolutely nothing in common with other boys and felt astonishingly relaxed and at one in girl’s clothes. These thoughts kept me tossing and turning for most of the night until I finally accepted that I was probably the opposite of Louisa, a girl in a boy’s body. I quickly settled and fell into a deep sleep on making that decision, only reawakening on Sunday afternoon.

The following week at school was relatively quiet. Louisa and I did our best to ignore the bullies' taunts, so it was much less fun for them, and they backed off at least for a while. This gave us more time to talk about Louisa’s grand reveal. I was saddened to hear of all the heartache and confusion Louisa endured while growing up, knowing that she was quite different from most girls but unable to understand why. The deep-seated dogma that boys were boys and girls were girls did not allow for any out-of-the-box thinking or explanations of her situation.

Louisa did, in time, work out the serious flaws in this gender exclusivity creed, particularly its inability to account for tomboys and janegirls. On her own, she then made a conceptual leap that is still amazing today. Louisa rationalized those girly girls and macho boys are only the opposite ends of a variable gender spectrum. I admit that such an option had never crossed my mind before Louisa told it. So she was really a trailblazer in gender thinking. Having come to her surprising conclusion, the main difficulty that Louisa then faced was trying to prove it. By chance or possibly not, I came along and provided her with an opportunity to test her idea. The deep sense of well-being that she felt while wearing my clothes confirmed her suspicions that she could, in fact, be a boy in a girl’s body. It strengthened her desire to learn about masculinity.

At first, I did not say anything to Louisa about my own dilemma. I thought adding it to the mix would only complicate things and discourage her from being completely open.  However, by Thursday, I felt the time was right to tell her of my story, and it will be no surprise that she reacted in the most supportive way. In fact, it was evident to me that she had deduced my gender ambiguity long before I had even given it any thought. She had simply waited for me to work it out for myself.  

“I realized that you were more than a sissy boy after our first meeting. You showed a level of compassion and understanding that marked you out as having good feminine instincts. I am glad to have helped a little to bring the real you out of hiding. We are certainly a strange pair. So where do we go from here?"

“That is a big question. We both know how ‘understanding’ our peers are with people who do not conform, but it does not bear imagining what they would do if they found out about this. So we must keep these thoughts to ourselves. That said, I would still like to explore my newfound female side.”

“I am thinking the same way. I need to learn more of boyhood to be sure of who I really am.”

“Okay, let us take small steps for now. We will keep spending Saturdays together and see how things go.”

Louisa grinned. “That will be great.”

I was on tenterhooks as I arrived at Louisa’s house on Saturday morning. Would she be as upset as she had been on previous Saturdays? Would she need to purge her angst on my butt? Thankfully, this occasion was to be quite different. Louisa was in a good mood and excited about our get-together, so we wasted little time exchanging clothes and dressing up. I had just finished fitting my wig when Louisa entered the room, took me across to the dressing table, and then applied some light makeup on herself and me. The effects were startling. We were to all visual intents transformed – Louisa was now ‘George’, and I was ‘Louisa’.

‘George’ had a plan for the day. “Okay, let us test the waters and go for a walk to the park. I will leave by the back gate and go along the alleyway to the top of the street to be not spotted. You 'Louisa' need to leave the house by the front door and then come up the street to the far end where we can meet up. That way, the local busybodies will only see what they would expect – me leaving the house. Trust me, they already know that Mum has gone shopping.”

Naturally, I was nervous about going outside on my own. Still, I knew that ‘George’ and I could not be seen leaving together. So, I went out of the front door, locked it, stepped onto the pavement, and made my way along the street. I saw quite a few curtains pull back as I headed along the pavement, so I knew that the plan was a success so far. However, I wondered whether the noise of the door shutting drew them to the window, or they spent all day at the window waiting for someone to pass by. Either way, it seemed to me that they had a sorrowful life.

A few boys on the opposite pavement wolf-whistled me and shouted made a few crude remarks as I passed by them, but otherwise, I was left alone. I walked far more slowly than usual and took shorter daintier steps to appear as girl-like as possible. Unfortunately, my skirt often threatened to fly up with the breeze, so I had to keep my hands by my sides to be sure that I could keep it in place. After what felt like an eternity, I eventually reached the top of the street where ‘George’ was laughing his head off at my obvious toils as a female. Once he had calmed down, we set off together towards a small park at the edge of town. By now, we were far enough away from the local nosey parkers that we would not draw undue attention if we stayed a reasonable distance apart.

We found a bench in the park beside a large play area and decided to stay there and watch the local activities. I was ultra-careful to sit down most discretely and keep my knees together and legs crossed at the ankles to avoid any unfortunate displays of my undies. Nearby, some boys were playing football and a little further away, a group of girls chatting together.

After a while, a boy came over to us and said to ‘George’, “We are short of a player for our team. Will you join us?”

“I am not very good at football. I do not want to be an embarrassment.”

 “No need to worry. We are not much cop at it either. It is just a bit of fun.”

‘George’ looked at me, and I nodded. “Go on, enjoy yourself. I will be okay.”

He went off and was soon engrossed in the game. In truth, he was much better at it than most of the teammates. As I watched their antics, I noticed the set of girls waving to me to come and join them. I went over and sat down on the ground with great care to ensure that my essentials remained covered. If nothing else, from my short time as a girl, I knew that I could never let my guard down - the slightest slip will inevitably result in a pantie show.

The girls obviously wanted to know who I was and what I was doing there. So I told them that I was ‘Louisa’ and explained a little about myself, including that I was there with my cousin ‘George’ who was now enjoying a football game.

This statement triggered a response that changed my view of girls forever.

“Yes, we saw him. He is hot. He can ring my bell anytime.”

These girls looked so demure and innocent, so I was utterly gobsmacked by the ribald remarks, but the other girls just burst out laughing. They then scrutinized each player on the pitch, and I can never forget the comment about one boy – ‘he is ace, nice bum and legs, and look at the bulge in his shorts.’ This provoked another burst of guttural laughter and made me blush.

“I am sorry if we embarrassed you. We are just letting our hair down.”

“Do not mind me. I have had a sheltered life, so it is all a bit of shock for me.”

 “It is okay. You will soon learn to play the game. We are pure and sweet around our Mums and other adults, but that does not stop us from being naughty when only girls are together. Enjoy these times but try to make sure that your Mum does not hear of them. Many of us have endured a sore bum as the price of being less than perfect, but I, for one, would say that it was worth it just to be one of the girls.

“Thank you. I will try to loosen up but also be discrete.” 

A potential downside to being a girl was the requirement to always be prim and proper. How boring a life that would be?  So, I was delighted to now find that even the most modest girls could be brash and mischievous when there were no chaperones around. The fact that, just like boys, they were keen to eye up, rate and discuss the local talent was the icing on the cake. I could live with that.  

I was processing this surprise when another jumped out at me. I noticed that only a few of the girls were side sitting like me. Instead, they were positioned like boys with their knees tucked up in front of them. This arrangement was more restful but left their skirts open and panties in full view. I could not understand why the girls were not bothered by this until it finally sunk in. We were all girls together, so comfort overruled propriety provided there was no one else nearby.

I adjusted myself into this more suitable position. I sighed as a cool breeze wafted along my legs, jumped over the pantie elastic, and titillated the white triangle between my legs.

A girl sitting across from me smiled and said, “that will feel much better. I would love to sit like this all the time, but sadly, it is not possible.”

It indicates how far I had come that I did not blush when she said this or when I got the full flash of her yellow panties. I am unsure whether there was one person specifically on guard. Still, as soon as an adult or boy got too close, everyone got into a side-sit position but reverted once the coast was clear.

I chatted with the girls until the football match finished, and ‘George’ headed back to the bench where we had initially been seated.

“I had better go now. Thank you for being so kind to me. I hope we can meet again soon.”

“We will be here same time same place next week, seeing if there is any hot talent like your cousin to enjoy.”

I made my way over to ‘George’. He was positively beaming.

“I was worried that you would still be on your own, but I see that you found some girlfriends.”

“Yes, I have had a good time. How about you?”

“Me too. I felt so at ease. I was just one of the boys, not some pariah to be tormented.”

“I know what you mean. Although we had never met before, those girls were happy to include me as one of their own. I have never had that experience as a boy amongst boys.”

“Yes, it has been an eye-opener for both of us. It is a pity that we cannot stay for longer, but we had better head back home to be sure we are not caught.”

I leaned over and kissed ‘George’ on the cheek. “Thank you for helping me find my way. The girls are correct. You are hot.”

I heard the girls giggling as ‘George’ said, “Oh, do not be so soppy. Let us go home.”

I waved to the girls as we headed out of the park. As we did, one strange idea flicked through my head. I knew that the boys, just like the girls, would have cast their eye over the local talent. I went bright red when I remembered the carnal fantasies they probably imagined having with each of us girls.  

‘George’ and I retraced our steps back to the house. He went down the back lane while I took the street and entered by the front door. Once there, we realized that we had somewhat mistimed our return and then had to make a mad dash to change clothes and clean up before Louisa's Mum arrived home. As it was, we were just finished when Louisa spotted her Mum talking with a neighbour across the street. I did not dawdle. I gave Louisa a quick peck on the cheek, headed out the back door, through the garden and into the lane. My heart rate slowed to normal once I was partway along the path and knew that I had not been spotted. This short-term stress did not diminish my enjoyment of the day. I was on cloud nine as I made my way home.