Monkey Business -8-

Monkey Business Part 8

By

Melanie Brown
Copyright © 2023

The neighbor across the street waved to me as she was getting into her car. “Hey Randi. You’re looking very lovely this morning.” I thought for sure she knew I wasn’t a girl. You don’t tell boys they’re looking lovely.

I waved back and said, “Thank you.” The make-up and outfit I’m wearing would be confusing to folks I guess.

Mom looked up from the TV when I entered the house. I guess Dad was at work. Mom smiled at me. “Don’t you look lovely today! How was the photoshoot?”

I pulled a chair up next to Mom and sat down. “It went great, Mom. Today I got to model wedding gowns.”

“That’s great! Is Mr. Adams going to give you copies? I’ve love to see them.”

I nodded. “I believe so.”

Looking at me sideways, Mom asked, “Did Colin behave himself?”

I shook my head. “He wasn’t there. They brought in a different guy. Someone named Tony.”

Looking a bit surprised, Mom said, “Oh? Well, did he behave himself?”

I smiled thinking of Tony. “Yeah. He was a perfect gentleman. In fact… Mom. What’s wrong with me?”

Mom looked at me curiously. “What do you mean, honey?”

“I kissed him. It wasn’t part of the shoot. I just couldn’t resist him. He’s gorgeous.” I looked down at my hands.

Mom sighed. “Your father is always saying you’re a twink.”

I frowned at Mom. “So I’m gay? That’s it?”

Mom shrugged. “You’ve never once mentioned any girls you like. And then there was… um, ah…”

“I don’t have a problem with being gay if that’s what I am. I’m sure Dad doesn’t like it,” I said frowning again at Mom. “But are you suggesting there’s something more?”

Mom leaned forward and hugged me. “Your father wanted a son so bad. He pushed sports on you and other guy activities on you, but you were never really interested in those things. You were always effeminate. The doctors said you had a hormonal issue. That’s why you don’t have facial hair or big muscles. Your father kept holding out hope you’d grow out of it. But it doesn’t look like it.”

I sat up straighter in my chair and asked, “So I’m really a girl?”

Mom shook her head. “No. You’re a boy. Just very effeminate, and you probably won’t develop more into a male without hormone injections. Even with those, you won’t be able to father a child.” Holy shit. This was way too much to digest in one sitting.

Mom sighed. “The doctor said one of our options was to raise you as a girl but wasn’t sure how you’d adjust since you’d still be male. Your father was against that anyway.”

I just stared at Mom for a minute. “You could have raised me as a girl? Why didn’t you? I think I would have liked that.”

Mom shrugged. “That was an option for us, but the doctor actually advised against it. He cited a case where a boy had been raised as a girl and later committed suicide.”

I leaned back in my chair. “This is so confusing. Look at me. What do you see?”

Mom smiled nervously. “At the moment, I see a pretty young woman.”

“So why can’t I stay this way?” I asked. “I like looking like this.”

Mom smiled at me. “You can dress however you want. But if you want to switch to being a girl, there are legal hoops for you to jump through. Not to mention surgery eventually.”

I frowned at Mom. “I wish you’d raised me as a girl.”

Mom looked at me seriously. She said, “You should probably seek the help of a professional. Honestly, Randy, other than spending more time with girls growing up, you never talked about wanting to be a girl until you started wearing those pink leathers. I think you just enjoy all the attention you’re getting.”

I shook my head. “You think I’m that shallow?”

Mom just stared at me for several long moments. Finally, she said, “You can’t just wake up one morning and announce you’re a girl. While you make a lovely young woman, there’s more to being a woman than just looking good in a dress. You want to pursue this and investigate further? You have my blessing. Your father won’t like it. But you have to get some professionals to examine you before you make a potentially huge mistake.”

I studied my hands with the beautiful nails. “If I have to stay a boy for now, can I have my own dirt bike for racing?”

Mom snorted a laugh. “You’ll have to ask your father that.”

* * *

“This is a nice bike,” said Nick as he dismounted the blue and white dirt bike he’d ridden to my house from the dealer. I don’t have a driver’s license.

“Thanks.” I grinned as I slid my fingers along the shiny fuel tank. I twisted the throttle a few times. “Think how great this will sound with a Yoshimura exhaust system.”

Nick turned the ignition off and stepped back to look at the bike. “How did you convince your folks to get it?”

Chuckling, I said, “I just suggested some things to my dad.”

* *  *

End of Part 8