Date: Wed, 9 Jan 2013 17:11:13 +0000
From: Peter Freeman <oeter@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Adam likes pretending to be a girl

This is fiction. Any similarity with persons living or dead is
coincidental. About 3,700 words. If you have any comments, please let the
author know at oeter@hotmail.co.uk.

There is no sex or abuse in this story, though it involves intimacy between
a man and a boy and the feelings of that man toward a pubescent boy who
enjoys cross-dressing.

Main characters:

Author - Martin

Author's brother - Michael

Michael's wife - Muriel

Martin's nephew, Michael and Muriel's son - Adam

Chapter 1 - On my doorstep

He appeared at my front door one Friday evening not so long ago. This
twelve year-old boy was wearing high heeled shoes, black stockings and a
skimpy dress under which I could see the outline of a suspender belt. I'd
had a call. My brother, Michael, who lives locally and has teenage
children, had called to warn me that, following a family row, I might
expect to see their son, Adam, unless he had somewhere else to go. What he
hadn't warned me about was what Adam was wearing. He actually looked a
bedraggled mess, dressed quite convincingly as a petite young woman. I
looked Adam up and down standing in the doorway before either of us
uttered. He looked nervous and flustered, but became re-assured by my
absence of reaction. He looked up at me and smiled in a submissive, almost
seductive, way though I don't think that was intentional.

"Come in, Adam," I said, ushering him in through the hall. I sat down,
trying to think what to say, and he hovered next to me. He let me pull him
on to my lap and then put his head on my shoulder as we hugged each
other. I then unwrapped his arms from around me and sat him so I could look
him in the eye. He'd clearly spent some time putting on make-up, though it
was spoiled where his tears had run.

"So, what's new?" I asked him, still somewhat at a loss for words. He
shrugged.

"It's just there's the Adam I've known all his life and now this..." I let
him watch my eyes move down his form.

"Uncle Martin, I've always liked pretending to be a girl, and you never
caught on. Anyway, now I've decided not to hide it any more and I want
to..." He stopped himself.

"Want to what?" I asked. Adam seemed taken aback. He was clearly finding
his crusade to be who he really was quite difficult.

"Hell and damn!" he exclaimed. "I want to have sex with men."

"But you're only twelve!" I exclaimed. "What happened to your innocence?"

"I still have my innocence," he answered, and looked away.

This whole episode was bizarre. He was still on my lap and I held his
hand. His dress had short sleeves and, looking at his slender arm, I could
imagine how one might find such a delicate article to one's taste, or even
how one might acquire a taste for such given its proximity and
availability. I recoiled. This was my brother's son. We were a family
untainted by anything weird like this, or at least as far as I knew about
anyway.

Adam pulled a piece of paper from inside his suspender belt and handed it
to me. It was a quickly written note in my brother's handwriting, which
just said "Martin. I can't handle this boy. If you end up fucking him, it's
probably what he deserves." Now the thing had gotten really bizarre. What
the hell was going on in that household that had brought things to this?

I eased Adam off my lap, got up and poured myself a drink. The boy sat
huddled on the sofa. I picked up a blanket and arranged it round him.

"Trying to make me a bit more cuddly?" Adam asked.

"Look, boy," I said. "I don't know where your head is at right now. All I
can tell is you've been crying and all I can do is provide whatever comfort
I can." I stopped and our eyes met. "As for how cuddly you are, you should
know that cuddliness has nothing to do with being warm or cold, fat or
thin. It's to do with physical closeness and non-physical connectedness." I
went and sat next to him and put my arm round his shoulder. "Now why don't
you take off those girly clothes and stay wrapped up in that blanket."

"What, and be naked?" he asked.

"Yes", I replied, "though keep your knickers on". Adam then proceeded to
shed his stockings, dress and suspender belt and it became apparent he
wasn't wearing any knickers.

"What, no knickers?" I asked, jokingly.

"No", he replied, looking mischievously at me as he arranged the blanket
loosely draped over his shoulders. I pulled him towards me and he yielded
willingly to my bear hug.

"Now I want to know what's been going on that has led to this." I faced
Adam. His face just crumpled and he started to cry. "OK," I went on, "if
that's too much, tell me where you first got the idea that you want to have
sex with men." He paused to compose himself and he replied, "Only because I
don't want to do it with with girls." I then asked,

"Is there anyone in particular that you imagine having sex with?" He
glanced at me and looked away.

"Yes," he said. Expecting him to carry on, I waited, but he
didn't. Slightly impatiently, I asked,

"Who?". He didn't reply immediately and then said,

"I don't want to tell you. Or kind of I do and I don't." I thought of the
embarrassment he was probably experiencing and how sensitive youngsters can
be about their feelings.

"You don't have to tell me," I said. "It's enough to know that there's an
object of your passion, and it's fine with me whoever it is."

"It's you." he said. I stopped. I really hadn't expected that. The boy
hero-worshipped me. That was fine, but not in the context of men who have
sex with men. And then I thought of my brother's note.

"Ahhh" I said. And then I asked, "Where did that expression come from:
having sex with men?" It occurred to me that a 'straightforward' gay sissy
would be more likely to have said something like 'get a boyfriend'. Adam
replied,

"It's a term my dad uses." There was a pause. "I caught him having sex with
another man once and he said it was OK, but not to tell my mother."

"And did you?" I asked.

"No, of course not," he replied. "I told him my secret, of being a gay
sissy."

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"Because then we have to keep each others' secret and we help each other
out. He even lets me do beauty parades for his friends."

I was appalled, but I tried not to show it.

"Well, that sounds like an equitable arrangement," I commented. "But
something must have gone wrong."

"Mum found out," he said. "About him, and about me, and what we'd been
doing."

"Don't tell me," I said. "You were doing one of these beauty parades and
she came in unexpectedly."

"That's about it. It all spilled out when she got me alone," he said and
heaved a sigh.

"Well, my little one," I said, rocking gently him in my arms. "I don't
think there's going to be any sex with men tonight, just some good
old-fashioned affection, I'm afraid." He snuggled closer, his little naked
body sprawled over me covered by the blanket. I stroked his hair and we
smiled at each other. There was an increasing sense of peace as he relaxed
and then the phone rang, and I had to get up to answer it.

Chapter 2 - A couple of phone calls

It was my brother, Michael, again.

"She's walked out and taken the other two boys. I take it Adam is with
you." He sounded agitated.

"Yes, Adam's with me," I said. "I can put him up for the time being if you
want."

"That's cool," my brother said. "I don't know what's going to happen." Then
he started to sob, unable to control his emotion. I stayed on the
phone. Adam was looking worried. "It's OK" I mouthed to him. Eventually my
brother recovered enough to say, "I'm sorry, Martin."

"Adam's told me a bit about what happened and showed me your note."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that too. I blamed him. I shouldn't have," my brother
went on. "I groomed him, I encouraged him to be titillating. My own son." I
though of how beautiful Adam had looked on the doorstep dressed in his
perfectly-fitting dress.

"How long has it been going on, and where did he get that dress?" I asked.

"A couple of months," my brother replied. "And the dress came from a
charity shop - that's what he told me." I thought for a moment. Whilst it
seemed Adam was just a twelve year-old boy, he was no doubt approaching
puberty and therefore had an incipient sex drive.

"OK," I said. "Let me look after Adam for a while and I'll see he's all
right. You know children are very resilient and I don't think he's actually
suffered much harm." I paused. "There'll be far more harm if you can't
patch things up with Muriel."

"You're right," Michael said. "I think she's gone to the police accusing me
of molestation."

"Yes," I said. "I don't know, but children dressing up and putting on shows
for adults isn't a crime in itself. Were there any incidents involving your
boyfriends?"

"No way", he replied. "He just used to lay a row of towels across the floor
to make a catwalk. He'd put on some girly outfit and then model it like a
professional, and we clapped. Nothing obscene."

"But it was a turn-on?" I asked.

"Not for me," he replied. "I just thought what a pretty little thing he was
and wondered whether he is a trans-sexual or if he'll grow out of it."

"They say these things are ingrained," I tried to sound
re-assuring. "Sounds like you were just letting him give free vent to his
identity. Look, I'm sure there's no harm done, whatever others might
think."

"That's the problem," he said. "Convincing others."

"Innocent until proven guilty," I said. "I suggest you get some
professional help. I'll phone Muriel and tell her that Adam is safe."
Michael thought about this.

"OK", he said. "She was hysterical when she left."

"I have her mobile number. I'll give her a call in a short while," I said.

"Thanks," said Michael and rang off.

Finishing my drink I asked Adam if he was hungry. He nodded. We went into
the kitchen, him holding the blanket round his shoulders. He sat on a high
stool and I started to make some scrambled eggs and toast.

"Look," said Adam. I turned round. He was showing me his naked torso. "I'm
grown up. I've got pubic hair." I stared at where he was pointing and sure
enough, I could just see a couple of wispy black hairs above his little
penis.

"Yes," I said. "You're a bit grown up, for sure. But you've got a bit more
growing up to do too."

"You reckon?" and there was a sparkle in his eye.

"Please cover yourself up," I said. "I don't want you catching cold or
spilling hot food on your skin." And with that I put his plate on the
table. He ate hungrily and I tried to think of what to say to his mum. We
ate in silence and then the phone rang again.

This time it was Muriel, who also sounded rather tearful.

"Martin!" she shrieked. "Have you got Adam with you?"

"Yes," I answered calmly. "And I've spoken to Michael."

"The bastard!" she exclaimed. "He's gay and he's made Adam gay too. I just
can't take it. We were such a normal family." Thoughts quickly ran through
my head. Martin was certainly bi, or perhaps a hetero who just liked
occasional sex with men. That didn't make him gay as such, which having had
three children clearly demonstrated. I was sure he loved Muriel. He
evidently just had a kink on sex with guys. At least, that's the way I
looked at it. Would I be able to convince Muriel to accept this? I hardly
thought so at the moment. And what about Adam - being paraded in women's
clothes in front of his father's promiscuous partners? It looked bad until
you spoke to Adam, who presumably just liked the feel of wearing
dresses. He had said he liked pretending to be a girl, not that he actually
wanted to be one. And having sexual feelings towards older guys we're told
is not unusual in an adolescent boy.

"Yes," I said ponderously. "I'm sure things will settle down."

"Settle down?" she was starting to get hysterical. "I'm staying with my
sister with the two older boys and we're all completely disgusted with
what's been going on. I can't bear it!" and she broke down in
tears. Eventually she managed to sob, "Thanks for having Adam. I'll phone
tomorrow and have a word with him."

"Fine," I said and rang off.

Chapter 3 - Adam stays the night

It was getting late, past midnight.

"Bed time!" I announced. There was no spare room in my small flat, just the
sofa and my own double bed. I found a cushion and laid it at the end of the
sofa. I also took a duvee out of the cupboard and laid it on the sofa. "You
go here." I pointed to the makeshift bed. Adam got up and, still wrapped in
the blanket, started to settle own on the sofa. I kissed his forehead and
said, "Things won't seem so bad in the morning. See you then." I then
retreated to my bedroom, stripped off, as is my custom, and went to
bed. About a quarter of an hour later a tearful Adam appeared at my door,
just as I was drifting off. I heard his sobs and raised my head. When he
saw that I was awake, he came into the room and slipped into the bed beside
me. I didn't object and soon he stopped crying and we lay wrapped in each
others' arms. I plumped up a pillow next to mine and tried to shift him
over to the side of the bed, but he clung on to me. We both lay still. I
had one arm round his shoulder and he was resting his head on my
chest. Eventually I drifted off and so must he because I awoke in the
morning to find him fast asleep with his head on the pillow beside mine. In
the early light I looked at the newness of his skin, his lips like finely
carved wax, the bushy fair hair on his head in total disarray. I watched
him sleeping and was overwhelmed with feelings of love for this boy,
feelings I have to say tinged with poignancy because here was a boy whose
first sexual stirrings seemed to have fixed me as the object of his
desire. Just play things by ear, I thought as I slowly slipped out of bed,
hoping that he wouldn't wake up and see my own early morning stiffy as I
went to relieve myself in the bathroom. As I went through the bedroom door,
I glanced at him and saw his eyes quickly close. After relieving myself and
putting on a dressing gown, I went to the kitchen to make coffee for
myself, and I poured out a glass of orange juice for Adam. As I came back
into the bedroom, I noticed a small movement in the bedclothes where Adam's
hand must have been in contact with his penis. The boy had seen my stiffy
and now he was wanking. He was clearly incorrigible. What was I to do?

"I've brought you some orange," I said, putting the glass on the bedside
table.

"Oh, thanks," he said, rubbing his eyes and evidently pretending to wake
up. He picked up his drink and took a long swig. "Good," he said, "Mum only
gets the cheap stuff."

"We need to get you some clothes," I said.

"But I want to wear my dress." Adam said, somewhat petulantly. "It's all
I've got anyway."

"OK," I replied. "Until we get you some normal clothes, you can wear the
dress, but please not the suspender belt and stockings. The dress will at
least keep you decent."

"There isn't anything not normal about my dress," He said. "It fits me
perfectly. I need the toilet."

"Yes," I said rolling my eyes up. Adam, still naked, got out of bed and
went off to the bathroom. He returned carrying the dress which he'd left on
the sofa. His little stiffy had subsided and he pulled the dress over his
head until the hem reached halfway down his thighs. I noticed again how
beautiful his arms were and imagined him wearing a diamond bracelet, at
which point the door bell went.

Chapter 4 - The police call

I hurriedly put on some underpants and went to the front door still in my
dressing gown. It was two policewoman.

"Mr Freeman?" one of them asked.

"That's me," I replied.

"Have you got an Adam Freeman staying with you?" she went on.

"I do indeed," I said.

"Can we see him, please?" asked the other policewoman.

"Sure," I said. "Come in. Just got up, so apologies about my state of
dress."

"No worries, we've seen far worse." said the first policewoman as they came
in.

"Adam," I called. "People to see you." Nothing happened, so I went to the
bedroom. Adam was sitting on the bed, in his dress, looking
terrified. "It's OK," I said. "Just the police checking up." I took his
hand and led him back into the living room where the policewomen were
waiting. I wondered how they'd take seeing him wearing a dress. As we
entered the room, the first policewoman said,

"I see."  She started to write in her notebook. The other policewoman bent
down so her head was at Adam's level and asked,

"Are you Adam Freeman?"

"Yes," replied Adam. "I haven't done anything wrong, honest."

"No, I'm sure you haven't," reassured the policewoman. "Bit of a bust up at
home last night, I gather?"

"You haven't come to take me away, have you?" Adam asked. "I want to stay
with my uncle." The two policewomen looked at each other. Then the first
one addressed me,

"Mr Freeman, I take it you've been told what happened." I nodded. "Adam's
mother feels that she can't take him back at the moment in light of what's
happened, and his father is helping the police with their enquiries and
isn't in a position to look after Adam. Are you happy to take care of Adam
until things can be sorted out?" I was about to reply when Adam exclaimed,

"You haven't arrested my Dad, have you?"

"No", the second policewoman replied. "He hasn't been charged with anything
yet." This sounded rather ominous, so I said to the policewomen,

"I'm happy take care of Adam and to make a statement about what's
happened."

The first policewoman said that woas very helpful, and that Adam could
remain in the room while I answered their questions.  I then told the whole
story, much as you've read above.

"You're quite intimate with your relations?" the second policewoman put in
at one point. I could see she was the junior police officer, but her tone
of suspicion was disconcerting.

"I love my nephew, if that's what you mean." I replied. "And please take on
board that no matter how unusual Adam's behaviour is, I've got nothing to
hide when it comes to my own dealings with Adam."

"That's true," Adam put in. "He's never made me keep any secrets, not
like..."

"Not like who, Adam?" the second police woman asked. I could see Adam was
in a quandry. I imagined he'd been about to say 'not like my Dad', but then
thought better of it in case it landed his Dad in it. I waded in.

"His father wanted Adam to keep secret that he had male lovers. That's
all."

"And are you going to continue dressing this boy in girl's clothes?" asked
the second policewoman, still in a somewhat accusatory tone.

"I've already suggested to Adam that we should get him some boy's clothes,"
I said, "but I'm afraid that what he's wearing now is all he has here at
the moment."

"I don't ever want to wear boy's clothes again," interjected Adam. "Uncle
Martin said it's OK." This wan't quite true, as I'd only five minutes
earlier suggested getting him some of his usual clothes. Adam went on, "And
anyway, there's no law against me wearing whatever I like."

"True," commented the first policewoman. "I think things here seem stable
enough. I don't see why we need to stay any longer."

"Thanks," I said. The two policewomen headed toward the front door.

"We'll be in touch to let you know about your brother if need be," said the
first policewoman and they departed.



Part 4 - Life goes on

So Adam stayed. No charges were brought against his father. His mother
returned home after a week with her sister and she and Michael went to see
a counsellor. It seemed that Adam was still the scapegoat, though. No
mention was made of him returning home, and he expressed no desire to go
back. His eldest brother called with a parcel of Adam's clothes, which
included all his feminine attire and a make-up bag.

"They must have been through my room," Adam said when he saw. And then he
smiled. "I suppose they wanted to get this stuff out of the house, but I'm
not complaining." And he held a frilly skirt, not unlike a ballet dancer's
tutu, up against himself. He came up to me and put his arms round me.
"Thank you, Uncle Martin, for having me, for accepting me as I am." And
then he placed a big wet kiss on my lips, which took me completely by
surprise. I held him close and moved my head so our cheeks were in contact.
Then I realised something that I found very disconcerting. I'd become
wet. No erection, just a little squirt of pre-cum in my underpants. This
boy was turning me on for the first time. Up until now, whilst I'd loved
him and thought he was beautiful, or you might say, cute, I hadn't
experienced any physiological response to his antics. But now I had. Oh
dear, I thought.

To be continued...