Zema This chapter is rough, but it's important to the plot. So, I've left a TLDR at the bottom for anyone who chooses to skip the chapter but doesn't want to miss out on important details.
CW:
SpoilerTransphobia, conflation of genitals and gender, misgendering, enforcing of gender roles, abusive parenting, dysphoria
[collapse]Dinner was uneventful, though it was nice eating dinner with our aunty. It had been a while, but it would become a common occurrence from now on, which I didn’t really consider to be a good thing. Not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with her; what upset me was the reason why we’d be seeing each other more often. I’d just have to get used to it. Dinner with both mum and dad was off table for the foreseeable future.
I decided to go to bed at the same time as James, which was much earlier than I would usually. I didn’t want to wake him as I headed to bed, since we were sleeping together on the sofa-bed tonight.
It was not a good night for me, mostly because I had difficulty sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. The pillow was too small, the mattress was too thin and springy, the sheets felt slightly different, and sleeping alongside another person was… a challenge. Not only because we had to share the sheets, but also because the sheets themselves were designed for a double bed, which I wasn’t used to.
The next morning, I followed my normal routine as closely as I could while outside the comfort of my usual living space. I tried not to let the unfamiliarity of the situation get to me. I’d get used to it, I told myself. Eventually.
Breakfast was an awkward affair. My little brother picked at his food, uninterested in eating. I knew something was up, so I tried to probe him, but I all I received was a shake of the head. Whatever had happened yesterday must have really upset him, and I had a feeling it had to do with the shopping trip he and mum went on. He was so excited to see mum for the first time in a week, and now that he was here, his mood had plummeted. He was acting more like I usually did, which did not bode well. I couldn’t bear to see him follow in my footsteps and lead a life like mine.
He was far too young to be so glum. Where had his childlike wonder and excitement disappeared to, and why? Was mum the reason? What could she have done to cause this? I trusted that mum always had our best interests at heart, so I hoped she hadn’t caused this. What had happened on that shopping trip?
My question would be answered less than an hour later. After my shower, I decided to turn the sofa-bed back into its sofa configuration, as it wouldn’t be needed as a bed for another week. A simple enough task, though having to pack up the sheets was a little annoying.
When I was done, mum and James entered the living room with James wearing a garment I never expected: a dress.
I wasn’t quite sure how to take the sight of my little brother wearing a dress – simple, plain and yellow, reaching down to his knees. His head was adorned with a matching headband, though I failed to see its function given James’ short hair. Still, if not for the boyish haircut, he otherwise looked like an ordinary ten year old girl.
James’ sullen expression had only deepened since earlier this morning now that he was wearing this new attire. He clutched at the material of the dress tightly and stared blankly at the ground. It was clear to me that he absolutely did not want to be wearing such attire, but it seemed mum was either oblivious to this fact, or simply didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
I felt a pang of envy which I tried my best to quash. What I wouldn’t have given to swap places with my little brother. To be a cute girl wearing a cute dress. But the universe had other plans for us: both of us stuck in situations neither of us wanted to be in. I wanted to be a girl, and couldn’t, all while James didn’t want to be a girl, and had no choice but to.
The thought of even attempting to wear a dress as I was made me almost cringe. An impossibility. If I were to don such attire, all it would achieve is magnify the glaringly obvious fact that I was a boy. I wasn’t a girl. I couldn’t wear such things. To do so would only bring that fact to the forefront of my attention. I simply was not allowed to wear a dress.
Mum beckoned aunty Miranda into the living room with us so that everyone would be present for an announcement. Miranda raised an eyebrow at the sight of my little brother as she walked into the room.
“Ok,” mum began with an enthusiastic clap, “Now that you’re both here, I’d like to introduce Chloe Ashford!” She made a flourished gestured to the one she dubbed ‘Chloe’.
I blinked in stunned confusion, and even Miranda was surprised to a degree. Mum couldn’t be serious. She hadn’t seriously given my little brother a new name – a girl’s name – and expected everyone to refer to him as such, had she? It just… didn’t sit right with me. James had expressly stated that he did not want to be a girl, in front of everyone, including mum. And even if he didn’t have a say in that, I still felt as though he should be allowed to be treated as he desired. He’d already been forced into a new body; he shouldn’t be forced into anything else.
“No, that’s James,” I said bluntly. James’ eyes lit up when I referred to him by his actual name, not the one mum had just decided to give him. It didn’t wash away the doom and gloom, but he clearly preferred being called James.
“Ben, sweetheart,” mum began, speaking in a soft tone, “Now that your little sister is a girl, it’s important that we start treating her as such. The sooner she gets used to her new life, the easier it will be for her in the future.”
James squirmed as our mother referred to him as a girl, but did not speak up to defend himself. His discomfort was rising, and mum didn’t seem to notice or care. Why was she doing this? His future? What about his present? How could forcing him to be miserable ‘prepare’ him for the future? I simply could not follow along with her reasoning.
“Is this really necessary though?” I asked.
“Of course. Chloe deserves to have a normal life. I’m just doing what’s best for her.”
“Is this really what’s best for him? Shouldn’t we let James decide for himself?”
“Ben,” said mum in a much more forceful tone, “Do not talk back to me. My decision is final. Chloe is a girl now, and we need to treat her as such. I want her to grow up leading a normal life. What will happen when she hits puberty, and she still wants to be treated as a boy? How do you think the other girls will treat her? How do you think the boys will treat her?”
I opened my mouth to try and counter her, but nothing that could be considered a coherent sentence escaped my lips. I didn’t agree with her actions, but my words had decided to head out for the day, leaving me with nothing to defend myself or James.
My aunty seemed… conflicted, having only just learnt the truth about James very recently. Thankfully, she still spoke up at this moment with input of her own, “Was the dress really necessary?”
“It’s only to help her adjust in the beginning,” mum replied, “Once she’s more comfortable in her femininity, I’ll let her experiment with her own style. But I want her to be ready to attend school next year as a girl.”
“Do you really think she’ll be able to live a normal life after what happened?” Miranda asked.
“I hope so,” mum sighed, “I just don’t want her to have to go through what you did, Miranda.”
Miranda’s faced shifted to one of concern, but she otherwise didn’t respond further.
I had not heard many details of my aunty’s childhood, though by the sounds of things, it was rather grim. I imagined that growing up gay during a time with very little acceptance of those outside the bounds of straight society must have been rather difficult. I supposed it made sense that mum would want to avoid that with James, though I didn’t know if her approach was the way to do it. Miranda and James’ situations were quite different, after all. Mum was committed to her idea however, and I felt powerless to adjust her course.
This was probably something I needed to consult with dad on. At least he possessed more control over my little brother’s life than I was capable of asserting. Though I worried that having mum and dad clash over James may just serve to divide the two even further. Which was more important? The happiness of my brother, or the happiness of my parents? It was a question I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to have to choose. I wanted everyone to be happy. I wanted our family to return to how it used to be. Wishful thinking perhaps, but I wanted to hope.
I noticed that James had been creeping slowly away from mum whilst everyone was talking, inching ever closer to the door. I had an inkling of what he was planning. I eyed him carefully, though I kept my eyes from lingering too long on his form to not arouse suspicion. I rarely made eye contact with whomever I spoke, so it wasn’t unusual for my eyes to wander around the room throughout a discussion, and mum likely knew that.
“Ben, can I trust you to treat Chloe as the girl she is now?” mum asked me. My eyes darted back to her face, though I didn’t make direct eye contact with her. I merely nodded in response to placate her. It seemed to satisfy her, which was good enough for me.
By this point, James had slipped through the door, and I knew that I needed to follow after him while avoiding the notice of the two adults in the house. Neither of them noticed that James had left the room and was now headed toward the front door of the house.
“I need to go to the toilet,” I said as bluntly as I could manage under the circumstances. I was a terrible liar on the best of days, but if I kept my voice monotone for such a simple deception then it sounded more believable.
I quickly slipped past mum and her sister, then powerwalked to the front door. After opening it and stepping through, I closed it behind me gently so that no audible noise was produced, the same as James had done. I caught sight of my little brother running off down the footpath and chased after him.
I waited until we were out of earshot of Miranda’s house before shouting, “James!”
Upon hearing his name, he skidded to a halt and turned to face me. Tears streamed down his face, and a sharp pang of guilt hit me square in the chest. I slowed as I approached and brought him into a hug. I didn’t usually hug my little brother – I wasn’t a fan of physical contact, and my dislike had only been exacerbated in recent weeks – but he desperately needed one.
He wrapped his own arms tightly around me and cried into my chest. I wasn’t a very good hugger, but I tried my best. I needed to be James’ stronger older brother, even if I was abysmal at it. At the very least, I could be there for him when he needed me. Something I was still clearly better at than our mother.
Eventually, I pulled away from him, holding him by the shoulders. He was still crying, though it had lessened. I took a deep breath; seeing my brother in tears was hard to bear. I assumed in such a state, he would be unable to speak – I wouldn’t in his situation. But I still needed some answers from him, just to be sure, so I asked only yes or no questions.
“I need you to be honest with me, can you do that?” I began. James nodded.
“Do you like being called Chloe?”
He shook his head violently from side to side.
“Do you want me to continue calling you James?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to wear dresses?”
Another shake of the head.
“Do you want to be a boy?”
A vigorous nod of confirmation. That was all I needed to know. I let my hands slowly fall off of my brother’s – not sister’s – shoulders and let out a deep sigh.
“Why is mum doing this?” James whispered. He looked up at me, pleadingly.
“She’s just trying to protect you the only way she knows how,” I answered honestly, though I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it.
“But I don’t want to be a girl!”
“I know,” I sighed, “But unless we can somehow change your body back, I don’t think we’ll be able to change her mind.”
“Why did you have to tell her what happened to me!?” James roared angrily.
I had to look away from him as I was hit with another wave of guilt. He was right. Why did I have to tell her? It seemed like a reasonable course of action at the time. I trusted her. To help. But her way of helping only left James hurt. I felt a lump in my throat, but I tried my best to push through it. “I’m…” I started, but paused to swallow before continuing, “I’m so sorry, James.”
Zema TLDR (same CW as above):
SpoilerBen and James' mother forces James to wear a dress, and insists that everyone treat him as a girl named 'Chloe'. James manages to sneak out of the house unnoticed by everyone except Ben, who chases after him. Ben asks James whether he wants to wear dresses or be called Chloe, to which James responds no. Ben also asks if James if he wants to be a boy, which James replies with an enthusiastic yes.
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Zema This chapter is rough, but it's important to the plot. So, I've left a TLDR at the bottom for anyone who chooses to skip the chapter but doesn't want to miss out on important details.
CW:
SpoilerTransphobia, conflation of genitals and gender, misgendering, enforcing of gender roles, abusive parenting, dysphoria
[collapse]Dinner was uneventful, though it was nice eating dinner with our aunty. It had been a while, but it would become a common occurrence from now on, which I didn’t really consider to be a good thing. Not that I didn’t enjoy spending time with her; what upset me was the reason why we’d be seeing each other more often. I’d just have to get used to it. Dinner with both mum and dad was off table for the foreseeable future.
I decided to go to bed at the same time as James, which was much earlier than I would usually. I didn’t want to wake him as I headed to bed, since we were sleeping together on the sofa-bed tonight.
It was not a good night for me, mostly because I had difficulty sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. The pillow was too small, the mattress was too thin and springy, the sheets felt slightly different, and sleeping alongside another person was… a challenge. Not only because we had to share the sheets, but also because the sheets themselves were designed for a double bed, which I wasn’t used to.
The next morning, I followed my normal routine as closely as I could while outside the comfort of my usual living space. I tried not to let the unfamiliarity of the situation get to me. I’d get used to it, I told myself. Eventually.
Breakfast was an awkward affair. My little brother picked at his food, uninterested in eating. I knew something was up, so I tried to probe him, but I all I received was a shake of the head. Whatever had happened yesterday must have really upset him, and I had a feeling it had to do with the shopping trip he and mum went on. He was so excited to see mum for the first time in a week, and now that he was here, his mood had plummeted. He was acting more like I usually did, which did not bode well. I couldn’t bear to see him follow in my footsteps and lead a life like mine.
He was far too young to be so glum. Where had his childlike wonder and excitement disappeared to, and why? Was mum the reason? What could she have done to cause this? I trusted that mum always had our best interests at heart, so I hoped she hadn’t caused this. What had happened on that shopping trip?
My question would be answered less than an hour later. After my shower, I decided to turn the sofa-bed back into its sofa configuration, as it wouldn’t be needed as a bed for another week. A simple enough task, though having to pack up the sheets was a little annoying.
When I was done, mum and James entered the living room with James wearing a garment I never expected: a dress.
I wasn’t quite sure how to take the sight of my little brother wearing a dress – simple, plain and yellow, reaching down to his knees. His head was adorned with a matching headband, though I failed to see its function given James’ short hair. Still, if not for the boyish haircut, he otherwise looked like an ordinary ten year old girl.
James’ sullen expression had only deepened since earlier this morning now that he was wearing this new attire. He clutched at the material of the dress tightly and stared blankly at the ground. It was clear to me that he absolutely did not want to be wearing such attire, but it seemed mum was either oblivious to this fact, or simply didn’t care. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
I felt a pang of envy which I tried my best to quash. What I wouldn’t have given to swap places with my little brother. To be a cute girl wearing a cute dress. But the universe had other plans for us: both of us stuck in situations neither of us wanted to be in. I wanted to be a girl, and couldn’t, all while James didn’t want to be a girl, and had no choice but to.
The thought of even attempting to wear a dress as I was made me almost cringe. An impossibility. If I were to don such attire, all it would achieve is magnify the glaringly obvious fact that I was a boy. I wasn’t a girl. I couldn’t wear such things. To do so would only bring that fact to the forefront of my attention. I simply was not allowed to wear a dress.
Mum beckoned aunty Miranda into the living room with us so that everyone would be present for an announcement. Miranda raised an eyebrow at the sight of my little brother as she walked into the room.
“Ok,” mum began with an enthusiastic clap, “Now that you’re both here, I’d like to introduce Chloe Ashford!” She made a flourished gestured to the one she dubbed ‘Chloe’.
I blinked in stunned confusion, and even Miranda was surprised to a degree. Mum couldn’t be serious. She hadn’t seriously given my little brother a new name – a girl’s name – and expected everyone to refer to him as such, had she? It just… didn’t sit right with me. James had expressly stated that he did not want to be a girl, in front of everyone, including mum. And even if he didn’t have a say in that, I still felt as though he should be allowed to be treated as he desired. He’d already been forced into a new body; he shouldn’t be forced into anything else.
“No, that’s James,” I said bluntly. James’ eyes lit up when I referred to him by his actual name, not the one mum had just decided to give him. It didn’t wash away the doom and gloom, but he clearly preferred being called James.
“Ben, sweetheart,” mum began, speaking in a soft tone, “Now that your little sister is a girl, it’s important that we start treating her as such. The sooner she gets used to her new life, the easier it will be for her in the future.”
James squirmed as our mother referred to him as a girl, but did not speak up to defend himself. His discomfort was rising, and mum didn’t seem to notice or care. Why was she doing this? His future? What about his present? How could forcing him to be miserable ‘prepare’ him for the future? I simply could not follow along with her reasoning.
“Is this really necessary though?” I asked.
“Of course. Chloe deserves to have a normal life. I’m just doing what’s best for her.”
“Is this really what’s best for him? Shouldn’t we let James decide for himself?”
“Ben,” said mum in a much more forceful tone, “Do not talk back to me. My decision is final. Chloe is a girl now, and we need to treat her as such. I want her to grow up leading a normal life. What will happen when she hits puberty, and she still wants to be treated as a boy? How do you think the other girls will treat her? How do you think the boys will treat her?”
I opened my mouth to try and counter her, but nothing that could be considered a coherent sentence escaped my lips. I didn’t agree with her actions, but my words had decided to head out for the day, leaving me with nothing to defend myself or James.
My aunty seemed… conflicted, having only just learnt the truth about James very recently. Thankfully, she still spoke up at this moment with input of her own, “Was the dress really necessary?”
“It’s only to help her adjust in the beginning,” mum replied, “Once she’s more comfortable in her femininity, I’ll let her experiment with her own style. But I want her to be ready to attend school next year as a girl.”
“Do you really think she’ll be able to live a normal life after what happened?” Miranda asked.
“I hope so,” mum sighed, “I just don’t want her to have to go through what you did, Miranda.”
Miranda’s faced shifted to one of concern, but she otherwise didn’t respond further.
I had not heard many details of my aunty’s childhood, though by the sounds of things, it was rather grim. I imagined that growing up gay during a time with very little acceptance of those outside the bounds of straight society must have been rather difficult. I supposed it made sense that mum would want to avoid that with James, though I didn’t know if her approach was the way to do it. Miranda and James’ situations were quite different, after all. Mum was committed to her idea however, and I felt powerless to adjust her course.
This was probably something I needed to consult with dad on. At least he possessed more control over my little brother’s life than I was capable of asserting. Though I worried that having mum and dad clash over James may just serve to divide the two even further. Which was more important? The happiness of my brother, or the happiness of my parents? It was a question I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to have to choose. I wanted everyone to be happy. I wanted our family to return to how it used to be. Wishful thinking perhaps, but I wanted to hope.
I noticed that James had been creeping slowly away from mum whilst everyone was talking, inching ever closer to the door. I had an inkling of what he was planning. I eyed him carefully, though I kept my eyes from lingering too long on his form to not arouse suspicion. I rarely made eye contact with whomever I spoke, so it wasn’t unusual for my eyes to wander around the room throughout a discussion, and mum likely knew that.
“Ben, can I trust you to treat Chloe as the girl she is now?” mum asked me. My eyes darted back to her face, though I didn’t make direct eye contact with her. I merely nodded in response to placate her. It seemed to satisfy her, which was good enough for me.
By this point, James had slipped through the door, and I knew that I needed to follow after him while avoiding the notice of the two adults in the house. Neither of them noticed that James had left the room and was now headed toward the front door of the house.
“I need to go to the toilet,” I said as bluntly as I could manage under the circumstances. I was a terrible liar on the best of days, but if I kept my voice monotone for such a simple deception then it sounded more believable.
I quickly slipped past mum and her sister, then powerwalked to the front door. After opening it and stepping through, I closed it behind me gently so that no audible noise was produced, the same as James had done. I caught sight of my little brother running off down the footpath and chased after him.
I waited until we were out of earshot of Miranda’s house before shouting, “James!”
Upon hearing his name, he skidded to a halt and turned to face me. Tears streamed down his face, and a sharp pang of guilt hit me square in the chest. I slowed as I approached and brought him into a hug. I didn’t usually hug my little brother – I wasn’t a fan of physical contact, and my dislike had only been exacerbated in recent weeks – but he desperately needed one.
He wrapped his own arms tightly around me and cried into my chest. I wasn’t a very good hugger, but I tried my best. I needed to be James’ stronger older brother, even if I was abysmal at it. At the very least, I could be there for him when he needed me. Something I was still clearly better at than our mother.
Eventually, I pulled away from him, holding him by the shoulders. He was still crying, though it had lessened. I took a deep breath; seeing my brother in tears was hard to bear. I assumed in such a state, he would be unable to speak – I wouldn’t in his situation. But I still needed some answers from him, just to be sure, so I asked only yes or no questions.
“I need you to be honest with me, can you do that?” I began. James nodded.
“Do you like being called Chloe?”
He shook his head violently from side to side.
“Do you want me to continue calling you James?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to wear dresses?”
Another shake of the head.
“Do you want to be a boy?”
A vigorous nod of confirmation. That was all I needed to know. I let my hands slowly fall off of my brother’s – not sister’s – shoulders and let out a deep sigh.
“Why is mum doing this?” James whispered. He looked up at me, pleadingly.
“She’s just trying to protect you the only way she knows how,” I answered honestly, though I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it.
“But I don’t want to be a girl!”
“I know,” I sighed, “But unless we can somehow change your body back, I don’t think we’ll be able to change her mind.”
“Why did you have to tell her what happened to me!?” James roared angrily.
I had to look away from him as I was hit with another wave of guilt. He was right. Why did I have to tell her? It seemed like a reasonable course of action at the time. I trusted her. To help. But her way of helping only left James hurt. I felt a lump in my throat, but I tried my best to push through it. “I’m…” I started, but paused to swallow before continuing, “I’m so sorry, James.”
Zema TLDR (same CW as above):
SpoilerBen and James' mother forces James to wear a dress, and insists that everyone treat him as a girl named 'Chloe'. James manages to sneak out of the house unnoticed by everyone except Ben, who chases after him. Ben asks James whether he wants to wear dresses or be called Chloe, to which James responds no. Ben also asks if James if he wants to be a boy, which James replies with an enthusiastic yes.
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