Crossing The Line Chapter 15 by Angharad Copyright© 2022 Angharad

Drew tossed and turned. The combination of Jules snoring and the rollers in his hair made life very difficult and relaxation near impossible. He had been pleased to learn that John was recovering quickly, he did, after all, owe his life to the fast-thinking youth. Jules had been full of her evening with him. She had noticed Drew’s hair full of rollers and was about to say something sarcastic, then thought better of it. She was having to adjust to possibly having a sister, which was nice and, well, extra competition too. The latter was less welcome and needed some consideration. Gaby was very pretty and had a lovely figure, so the competition was growing.

They had talked when they went to bed, but Jules had had two glasses of wine so the conversation became very one-sided, as she slipped into the sleep which was now the source of the snores which were keeping Drew awake.

He tried prodding her, but she just snored even more. She was lying on her back, her mouth wide open, ‘catching flies'. Drew lifted her bedclothes, recalling from something he’d heard on the telly about the cold draught causes the sleeper to turn over. Jules did, then as he got back to his own bed, she rolled back over and the ‘lawnmower’ began again.

In frustration, he tried placing his pillows over his head, but then the rollers dug mercilessly into his scalp, he wondered how other women wore them. He looked at the clock, it was after twelve. Everyone was in bed and he was probably the only one still wide awake.

He tried to pretend he was riding his bike, imagining the countryside going by but Jule's vocal accompaniment, spoiled his concentration. He felt his nipples through the nightdress, they quickly responded to his touch and shivers ran through his body. This enthralled and scared him at the same time. Boys aren’t supposed to have boobs with pleasure buttons on them. So did that stop him from being a boy?

He still had some dangly bits down below, albeit rather small ones. Then he thought about whether he would keep them or have some sort of horrible operation. During this unpleasant thought, he drifted off to sleep, assisted by Jules’ ‘lawnmower’ going quiet as she turned on her side and closed her mouth.

As he slept, the day’s events were mulled over in his mind and he began to dream. He was sitting at his desk in school, half listening to the teacher and half messing with Paul, when Mr Woods, the headmaster walked into the class. “Drew Bond, come with me,” commanded the headteacher.

“No!” shouted Drew.

“Wake up, Gabs, you’re having a bad dream.” The voice was that of Juliette, but it took a moment for it to filter into Drew’s sleepy mind. He felt a hand on his wrist and he fought against it and the bedclothes. “Hey, watch out!” Called Jules, “You’ll, like, hurt me.”

“Wha…” Said Drew opening his eyes. “Jules! Have they gone?”

“Have who gone?” asked Jules in astonishment.

“The police,” said Drew, shaking.

“What police? It’s half past one in the morning, and you were having a bad dream,” said Jules, with less sympathy than she would have found had he not woken her from her own lovely dream. She and John were…(it was nice anyway).

Drew sat up, he was sweating profusely and felt tears on his face. “But they were so real.”

“It was a dream Gabs, just a dream. Now can I get back to my one?” She said irritatedly as she climbed back into her own bed. “Maybe, those things in your head are softening your brain. Goodnight,” she said sarcastically and switched off her bedside light.

He lay there in the dark, his face damp with tears and his body moist with the sweat of fear and his exertions with the bedclothes. “Why do I keep having these dreams?” he whispered to himself. He could her Jules’s regular breathing signifying she was drifting off to sleep again. He was back to tossing and turning again, the torment of the rollers rekindled.

He listened to his sister’s deep breathing, becoming slower as her sleep deepened. In some ways, it was nice to have her sharing a room with him, especially when he had these nasty dreams. He recalled the one where he was cursed in Jenny’s womb. Now that was scary. He lay listening, had he heard the old crone’s cackle? His blood ran cold. It was all her fault, the old bat! If she hadn’t cursed him, he’d be a normal boy, not a girly boy. Maybe, if he could just meet her and apologise for his mother and offer her some money, maybe, just maybe, he could return to normal; a normal boy, that is.

He puzzled about this for some while. Half of him was terrified another half felt it was the only way, to lift the curse and then he could get on with his life. He wondered how he could do this, and in doing so he provided something of an answer, and he fell asleep. During the sleep, he began to dream, and in his dream…

He or rather she, because it was Gaby, who was riding on a training run, out in the middle of nowhere. She passed an old woman sitting on a bench by the roadside and then, suddenly realized who it was, the old crone, herself. She stopped and rode back to her. The old woman appeared to be asleep. Gaby dismounted her bike, her cycle shoes crunching on the gravel. Her heart was thumping, what if it was the wrong old woman?

“Did anyone? That’s for you to find out…goodbye,” there was a blue flash and the old woman disappeared, the sound of cackling resonating all around Gaby, who sat down on the bench and with head in hands began to weep.

Moments later, Drew awoke, his face and his pillow were damp with tears. He sat up in bed. The dream was very fresh and he re-ran it in his mind, it still made no sense to him. Was he cursed or not? It would certainly make things easier if he was, or would it? What were the alternatives? His head began to swim as he grappled with all this. One of his nipples began to itch, and he unconsciously rubbed it. He found himself rubbing it longer than the itch required. Even in the poor light of the bedroom, he could see the outline of his small breasts and burgeoning nipples. “Oh shit!” he hissed to himself, “What am I gonna do when we get home?”

He lay down again and with his hands over his opposite breast, he felt his thumb gently massaging the erect nipple. The effect was soothing, it gave him a peculiar feeling somewhere down in his tummy, which was very pleasant. Trying to focus on this sensation rather than worrying about so many things, he eventually drifted off to sleep, his thumbs still occasionally making the pleasurable movements across his chest.

Once more he began to dream…This time Gaby was with someone, and they were gently stroking her pleasure buttons. It must be Maddy, thought Gaby, dreamily, it was sooooo nice, and the tingling in her tummy was even nicer. Then whoever was doing it, stopped. Still, with eyes closed, Gaby grumbled, “Don’t stop Mad, that’s so nice.”

“Yeah, it’s like okay.” Spluttered Gaby, feeling a different warmth, this time one of acute embarrassment. “I understand.” She looked down at the bulges in the dress she was wearing, the nipples clearly erect even through her bra. “Isn’t it clever to have breast forms that have sensitive nipples?” she thought, then…”doh!”

After this dream, Drew decided that he couldn’t cope with any more peculiar dreams. Was he or wasn’t he cursed? Did a part of him fancy Harry? It was just too much. He looked at the travelling alarm clock by his bedside, it was nearly six o clock. He decided he needed a wee and even more a ride to sort his thoughts out.

He stole quietly into the bathroom and after using the loo, had a little wash. He grumbled to himself when he saw the rollers in his hair, but after dressing in his riding gear, found he could just disguise them if he stretched the tab on the back of his baseball cap. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it would do and it meant he wouldn’t have to face the wrath of Maddy, which would have happened if he’d dared to remove the offending bits of plastic from his hair.

He slipped downstairs and helped himself to a bowl of cereal. Normally, he would have waited for a while after eating before taking exercise, but he risked someone waking up and noticing he was gone. He filled his drink bottle with a strong solution of fruit squash, and let himself quietly out of the back door.

He walked slowly out to the garage, afraid the hard soles of his cycling shoes would make a noise and wake someone. It was a slow progress, as he paused after every couple of paces to listen for sounds from within. There were none, and except for the chorus of birdsong and the sound of his own heart beating loudly, the only other noise was the occasional rumble or drone of traffic.

The key turned with a small click, which seemed magnified to his strained senses, and the garage door creaked and groaned as he timidly pushed it open. He stepped quietly into the garage, put his drink bottle on the carrier, and finding a small can of lubricating oil, let a drop or two fall on the hinges of the creaking door. It did the job and the door became silent. He smiled to himself, and placed the can back on the shelf. Or he thought he had. As he moved his hand away, gravity pulled the can down onto the garage floor with a loud clatter. He jumped, then froze. The noise assailed his ears like an explosion. He paused, waited, and listened. He left the offending can on the concrete floor as if in punishment for its bad behaviour, then carrying his bike out of the door, he stepped as quietly as he could down the drive. A few moments later, he was out the gate and speeding down the road, free at last.

The wind felt cool on his bare arms, the cycle shirt was short sleeved, but he felt refreshed by it on his face and body. The last remnants of sleep were brushed away by the breeze as he clicked up a gear and settled into his rhythm. Cadence is everything in cycling, once achieved, the riding takes care of itself. Drew was now experienced enough as a rider to get into his slot quite quickly, especially when training. Once there he would be free to allow the worries which seemed to beset him and disrupt his sleep, a chance to interact with his conscious mind.

He’d managed to glue the breast forms back in place, partly to continue the deception he needed on a physical level, but also because his last dream had disturbed him a little. So, just in case he did like a certain person touching his chest, if that part of his chest was covered by a couple of inches of silicon foam, the temptation would be impossible. He realized it was covering up the issue, rather than dealing with it, but it would do for now.

He set off towards Wareham, and once over the hill out of Broadmayne, he relaxed down into a cadence that allowed him a steady twenty miles an hour. He didn’t need to push himself, the object was to allow the thoughts to sort themselves, or at least give him some idea of where to go next with them. To him, it was cycle therapy.

He made good progress on the dual carriageway towards Winfrith, at least bike-wise, his thoughts were another matter.”Was he gay or was he being a girl in his dream with Harry? It was Gaby who was in it not him as Drew? Was he cursed or not, if not then why not and what did that mean? Life was so complicated. Who could he talk to? Maddy, maybe, but she was so close to the problem? Jenny or Dave? Similar, but they seemed to have their own issues too, Jules was a possibility, but she was rather busy with helping John achieve recuperation in several ways.

Who else was there? Carol, she was helpful at times but busy. Then he had a brainwave, “What about nan, she is always so good to me and I think she understands more than she says. I’ll try and go and see her when we get home or get her to come down to us. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.”

At about the time when Drew was halfway to Wareham, a vehicle screamed to a halt outside the cottage. The solitary occupant ran up the drive and began banging on the door and ringing the bell continuously.

After a minute or so, voices were heard from within calling to the visitor who had disturbed their sleep so violently. The sound of a lock being undone and the door opened with a sleepy-looking man on the inside of it. He woke to full alertness when he saw the uniform of the caller. “Where’s the fire?” he said to the visitor, inviting him in. By the time the caller had entered the house, Jenny and Carol had flung on a dressing gown and rushed downstairs.

“What’s happening?” asked Jenny, looking alarmed at the presence of a police officer in the house yet again.

“I’ve been sent to give you some bad news,” said the young constable.

“What is it?” asked Carol, fearing her husband had been hurt or taken ill.

“I’m afraid Roy Meadows escaped from custody last night…”

“What? “ gasped Jenny, “How could that happen?”

“I don’t know, there’s an investigation underway already, but obviously, we needed to warn you and especially Miss Bond. Apparently, he made comments to another prisoner,” that if he got out, he was going to sort out Barbie, once and for all.” We assume he meant Miss Bond.”

“What’s going on?” called Jules from the top of the stairs, she was holding her head and trying not to make any sudden movements.

“Meadows has escaped, tell Gaby, to come down here,” called Jenny.

“Gaby isn’t here.” called back Jules, “I thought she was down with you.”

“Where the hell is she then?” said Jenny, looking aghast. Dave was out the door and into the garage in almost a single bound.

“She’s out on that perishing bike, that’s where? But where that is, God alone knows,” he said as he returned to the crowded hallway.

“Please you’ve got to find her before that madman does,” pleaded Jenny to the young policeman.

He clicked on his radio and said, “I need you to put out an APB on…”