Gabycon 2013.

In Pursuit of the Truth.

by Angharad.

(Based on the characters created by Maddy Bell).

“D’you dream about bikes?” asked Maddy.

“Not as far as I know,” replied Drew, who was disguising less effectively, his burgeoning femaleness. It wasn’t quite true, well, he didn’t so much dream of bikes as of cycling; and he’d done so for years. In his dreams he’d won the Tour de France and more disturbingly the elite women’s road race world championship his mother riding to support him. But as time progressed that dream might turn to one of prophesy.

Drew was back in Warsop and staying with his cousins, the Peters. Maddy was trying to get him into full Gaby mode and he was resisting, he was trying to avoid his female alter ego being supposedly in male form to do another training session with British Cycling, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain especially in racing skins.

“But in Germany you live as a girl, even have a boyfriend,” pouted Maddy.

“I didn’t set out to do that, it just happened, and I wouldn’t say Max was my boyfriend, he’s just a guy I know, who’s in some of my sets in school.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” quipped Maddy and fell back onto her bed laughing.

“Look it’s my last night, I have to go to Manchester tomorrow, so why can’t we just have a quiet night in?”

“Because, girl, all your friends wanna see you, that’s why.”

Drew was beginning to wish he’d gone straight to Manchester but the bloody airline let him down again and he couldn’t get the flight he wanted and had had to settle for a cheapo flight to East Midland’s Airport where his Auntie Carol had collected him.

The consolation would be her cooking, there was still no one who could touch her for the perfect roast dinner and her pasta dishes were as good as most Italians could make. He was looking forward to roast beef or pork and spotted dick and custard, instead he got a take away curry and a pretty grim pizza because she was helping the local am-dram group with costumes, as was Maddy when she couldn’t get out of it. So the first night, instead of a blow out roast dinner, he had the curry and then ended up as tailor’s dummy while Carol and Maddy altered a period dress to fit one of the leading ladies who was about Drew’s height, only she wore a corset to get into it, his waist was naturally small, though she was a bit bigger in the boob department so they’d had to pad him out a little.

“Uncle John, who always called him Gaby these days, smiled and said how well it fitted him as he passed through the dining room while looking for a book he’d mislaid.

“Yeah, pity you’re not staying, you could have had a part in the play,” teased Carol.

“Yeah, what I always wanted,” he replied rolling his eyes conveniently forgetting he’d already done so in a community play in Germany.

“Oh good, next year I’ll get them to include you, Gabs.” Maddy smirked at him.

“It’s Drew, remember.”

“Yeah, I remember, Gabs.”

At this point if Carol hadn’t been there trying to pin the hem on the dress, he’d have flounced out of the room and up to his bedroom and probably burst into tears. He seemed to do that a lot lately when he got stressed or confronted with unpleasantness.

Couldn’t Maddy see how he was hurting? He hadn’t asked to be like this, a boy in an increasingly womanly body, and at times he had difficulty coping with the changes. It was like he’d been cursed by some nasty wizard or sorceress for his body to go in one direction while he wanted to do the opposite. In recent years his only salvation had been in riding a bike, the thing he was really good at, well that and looking like a very pretty young woman.

As always Maddy had her way and she and Gaby went out with two of the others to a pub for a meal with John Peters. Carol couldn’t come as she was still knee deep in sewing. The others were Helen and Ally, both of whom had been victims of unprovoked violence, Ally having been shot on the American trip and Helen had been stabbed in the UK.

The assault had changed Helen making her even more timid than before and she eschewed the company of men unless in a group with other girls. She’d asked Drew to come as Gaby, which was what really made up his mind and that they were going to a good pub so the food would be reasonable too.

Perhaps he’d expected to end up in skirts because he came prepared with a skirt and top, lingerie and shoes, together with his makeup and a handbag. Part of him was happy to be back in skirts and makeup because it was easier to be a girl than fight against nature and try to be a boy—but the next day, when he got to Manchester and the British Cycling Academy training session, he’d be all boy—except for the sports bra—didn’t everybody wear one?

The meal was good, as he’d recalled from the last time he’d been there with his own family dressed as a boy and they’d still called him ‘Miss’. Jules had thought it was funny until he kicked her under the table and she had a bruise on her leg for the next week. Dave read him the riot act when they got home.

“But she laughed at me when the waiter called me, Miss.”

“I don’t care, whether you’re a boy or a girl, you do not hit or kick people, do you understand?”

“Yes, dad.” On that occasion he’d slunk up to his room and cried into his pillow for the next hour. Not exactly the response of a big tough boy.

So here he was laden with suitcase outside the velodrome, saying goodbye and thanks to the Peters for conveying him once again in Uncle John’s BMW to his training session.

He left his case in reception, in the storage room they have there, he had his cycling kit separate in a sports bag. He’d signed in and been asked to wait because Caroline wanted to see her godchild.

He sat looking at the posters and pictures of the action, Chris Hoy and Vicky Pendleton flying round the track and standing together displaying their respective gold medals. He wondered if he’d ever get a chance to win one, and if he did would he be as good as them—he’d do his best, of that he was sure.

He was so rapt in his thoughts he didn’t notice Caroline arrive who had a second to appraise him, the boy she’d pledged to guide spiritually as god mother had disappeared and in his place was a blossoming young woman. She appreciated his difficulty but she was on a mission and he was part of it, though perhaps not in the way he envisaged.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to your godmother, then?”

He gave a very feminine start, his hand flying up to his mouth, “Sorry, Caro, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Come with me, kiddo, I need to discuss a few things with you—you can leave your bag there if you want?”

“My—uh money’s in it.”

“Well just bring your wallet then.”

“Um—okay.” He bent over the bag and unzipped it, pulling out his small handbag containing his purse, passport and ID card along with makeup and hankies, spare earrings and a bracelet—they were both gold and too valuable to leave unattended if he could help it. He no longer had a boy’s wallet and he wouldn’t carry it in his jeans anyway, his bum stuck out enough as it was.

Caro grabbed them both some water and they made their way up to her office on the floor above, one window of which overlooked the velodrome track. Drew had been there before for briefings and tutorials on his riding, though not always from Caroline.

“Have a seat, kiddo,” she said sitting in one opposite him which she turned to face away from the desk and compulsory computer. “How are things?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Getting in much riding?”

“Yeah, I race most weeks in one form or another and keep to the training schedule you sent me, which Dad has modified a little.”
“Good-o, how are Dave and Jenny?”

“Okay, they send their love.”

“Thanks, now I need you to do a session of assessment which we’ll split around lunch.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a race meeting on Saturday with two foreign teams riding as well as two British ones. We’ve not decided what you’ll ride yet, but I’m hoping you’ll be able to do some endurance events.”

“Okay,” he’d done most of these in one shape or form before so he didn’t mind what they asked him to do—he’d do his best.

“Right, go off and change and I’ll take you round the torture chambers in a minute.” He went to go into the male changing room and some bloke in the BC standard uniform of polo shirt and tracky bottoms told him the ladies was across the way and stood there while he blushed and muttered his way into the girl’s changing room. Fortunately, there was no one else in there and he stowed his bag, clothes and valuables in the locker and put the key on an elastic band round his wrist.

He’d tied his hair back into a ponytail and wandered out to wait for Caroline. She was already there and almost gasped—there was no way that was a boy, not with those hips and breasts. “Like the ear studs,” she said as she met him again.

‘Shit,’ he said to himself, he forgot to take them out this morning in his fight for the bathroom with Maddy. They were in the shape of stars in cubic zirconia crystal which tended to sparkle just a bit—like lots in bright light.

The rest of the day was taken up with being weighed and calibrated on all sorts of machines, measuring power, stamina, recovery times and along with heart rates, respiration efficiency and so on. Finally, he got to ride round the track of the velodrome for half an hour wearing a monitor.

“Okay, kiddo, you can shower and change and off to the hostel, dinner is at seven.” He ate on his own, several of the others were still out having been racing in Glasgow against a Scottish team. They weren’t expected back until later. Back in his room, and in a nightdress, he texted home and got some back. Then he went off to sleep his phone waking him at seven the next morning.
He dressed in the unisex outfit of polo shirt and tracksuit bottom pulling on the jacket as he left his room. His trainers squeaked as he walked down the stairs and entered the dining room which was now quite busy. He recognised one or two faces and nodded at them, then helped himself to a breakfast of cereal, fruit and toast washed down with two cups of coffee. He drank more coffee these days, he had to, the bloody Germans couldn’t make a decent cup of tea.

Then, it was on to the team bus and off to the torture centre once again. He sat by a girl he thought he’d seen before and they chatted about nothing on the short trip across the city.

Once there, they took their sports bags into the classroom and waited for the trainers to tell them what they’d be doing for the day. Caroline arrived with Chris and explained the schedule.

“Okay, people, we’ve got two films for you to watch; one is about nutrition and how important it is to eat properly to get your body to perform at its optimum and the other is about the psychology of winning. Stay awake because you’ll be required to do a written test later. While the films are on, we’ll be calling each one of you to discuss your test results from yesterday and which events we’d like you to do on Saturday. Once that’s all done we’ll spend this afternoon and the rest of the week training for the events you’ve been selected to do.”

Chris started the video player and Caroline called Patrick to go with them as the first interviewee. Drew was beginning to think they’d forgotten him as it was halfway through the second film before he was called.

“Hi, Drew, how d’you think you did yesterday?” asked Chris as he sat facing them, a folder of various sheets of paper on the table between them.

“Alright—I think.” Suddenly doubts assailed him, was he last because they were going to send him home? He felt quite sick for a moment.

“Yeah, you did okay.” Chris smiled at him but he felt there was something behind the smile and Caroline looked more twitchy than usual. They were going to send him home.

“Based on the results, we’d like you to ride in two events...” said Chris but Drew didn’t hear the second bit, he was too busy sighing with relief, he was safe—phew. “Is that okay?”

“Um sorry, I missed that, I thought you were going to drop me.” He glanced at Caroline and she looked very serious.

“No on the contrary, we want you to ride in two events, based upon the results from yesterday. Your endurance and recovery is up near the top.”

“There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?” he said his heart racing.

“There’s no easy way to say this,” Chris answered, “You don’t have enough strength to compete against boys, so you’ll be riding with the girls.”

“But...I can’t, can I?”Drew felt his eyes well with tears.

“Yes, we’ve checked with UCI, sent them your last three blood results—you’re more girl than boy, which I think you’ve suspected for some time—isn’t that true?” Caroline paused and he answered with a nod as tears ran down his face.

“I can’t, I can’t do it...” he rose from the chair and rushed from the room, running blindly until he unconsciously found his way into a cubicle in the ladies loos. There he sat on top of the seat cover pulled his feet up and sobbed against his knees.

His dreams were dashed, his stupid body had let him down once more and just to prove its point he had those horrible griping pains in his tummy again. Only it wasn’t his tummy was it—no, it was his stupid ovaries and womb. For two pins he’d kill himself—though drowning oneself in a toilet bowl would take some persistence.

Once he’d got himself together he’d get his kit and leave, call his dad and try and get an earlier flight home. His career was over and he wasn’t quite sixteen—wonderful.

A soft tap came from the door, “Drew, are you in there?” Caroline was obviously outside.

“Go away,” he called back.

“Look, sweetheart, come on out and let’s talk it through.”

“I think we’ve talked enough.”

“Drew, I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

“You’re sorry, how d’ya think I feel—blissfully happy?” he almost spat back.

“Please come out.”

“I will when I’m ready.”

“I spoke to your dad last night. He said you’d be disappointed.”

“Disappointed? You destroy my career, how am I supposed to feel?”

“Drew, get your sorry bum out of there and perhaps we can deal with this like adults.”

“Sorry, I’m a girl you know and we get upset when people give us bad news.”

His mobile rang and he answered it, it was Dave.

“How ya doin’, kiddo?
”
“I’ve felt better.”

“So they’ve told you, then?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna try for an earlier flight.”

“What for?”

“I’m comin’ home.”

“No you’re not—now let’s get this straight, if your mother could deal with cancer and go on to resurrect her career, I’m not going to let a few hormones stop you being even better than she is.”

“I don’t wanna be a girl, Daddy,” she sobbed over the phone.

“I’m sorry, Gabs, but that’s the way it is—now stop feeling sorry for yourself and remember you’re a Bond, daughter of Jenny and get out there and show them you’re just as good if not better than your mum.”

“But, Daddy...” she sobbed.

“No buts, Gaby, get out there and show them, prove to everyone just how special you are, young lady. Do it for me—will you?”

Drew chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes still wet with tears. “Okay, I’ll try—for you.”

“Good girl, you show them just how good you are—you’re the best.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“And, Gabs...”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I know,” she sobbed and he rang off.

“C’mon, Gaby, open the door—let’s go and get a cuppa, eh?”

Knowing she was beaten, she opened the cubicle and Caroline gave her a huge hug. “Thank you,” she said to the upset teen.
After a cup of tea and a long talk with Caroline, Gaby agreed to take part in the training. She wiped her eyes and went off to change. Her two events were the team pursuit, three kilometres of exhausting speed, and the points race.

Caroline called the girls together. “Okay, this is top secret so if it gets out we’ll know who spilt the beans and they’ll be very sorry. Gaby is riding with you in the team pursuit.”

“Gaby? Yesterday it was Drew,” observed Miranda.

“Yeah well, today it’s Gaby and she’s as female as you are.”

“Oh yeah, like she has monthlies, does she?”

“Actually she does.”

“Oh,” gasped the other girls as Gaby blushed a bright scarlet.

“Right, back to work or people will start to think you’re enjoying yourselves. I need you to practice coming off the front of the team and slipping onto the back without losing contact—it’s called rotating and possibly the hardest thing in track cycling to get right, so we’re going to practice it until you do.”

And they did, or until they left at six to go back to the hostel where everyone was buzzing with the news that Drew was now Gaby. In the conference room, Caroline explained that Gaby had been born intersexed and through a misdiagnosis at birth had been assumed to be a boy but after he started growing into a woman, tests showed he was actually she.

“So he hasn’t been taking hormones then?”

“Only to stop her periods pro tem, as she needs an operation to resolve things properly. But she is a natural female, not transgender.”
There were no more questions and when Gaby came down for her evening meal, which she only did because Caroline made her, “Get it over with, girl—it’ll be worse tomorrow if you don’t,” everyone pretended it was as per usual.

It went okay, they were all sympathetic after Caroline asked them to think how they’d feel if they were in Gaby’s shoes. They were also warned, any bullying or teasing or telling anyone outside, would result in them being dropped from the team—permanently.
The week went on with Gaby eventually getting back into her stride. On the Saturday, she took the last lead session in the pursuit against a very good Polish side and they won by ten seconds. The girls had never beaten them before and were more than happy to have a new member on the team—even painting their nails the same to show solidarity. As for the points race, Gaby came third—it was just too much on top of the emotional turmoil she’d dealt with during the week.

Caroline took her to the airport. “Take care, kiddo, I’m really pleased to have a god daughter, and I couldn’t have picked anyone nicer than you, Gabs.”

“Yeah, I know, sugar an’ spice an’ all things nice—it’s what Bonds are made of.”

“Hah,” exclaimed Caro, “Sugar and spice—no you’re not, you bloody lot are made of pure gold—special hardened gold. Go on, back to your dad, see you at the next session—the women have broken the world record in the team pursuit for the past two Olympics and Worlds. You might just be ready to make it three if you really apply yourself.”

“Three it is, Caro. See you at the next torture session.” They hugged and Gaby waved as she pulled her case and sports bag into the check-in.