Cary

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Cary learns about life at an early age, which is TFB for him.

Cary
by Angela Rasch

Cary slowed from his sprint, once he was in sight of his house and no longer feared for his life.

I don’t need to cause Mommy any more worry than she has already.

He skipped the last fifty feet to their front gate. His hands flew in that carefree way that spoke of his inner femininity.

Cary then plastered a smile on his face. “A smile is a happiness you find right under your nose,” he announced to the world, while he pulled open their front door.

Everything about their house indicated that it was a no-man-allowed-zone. Ever since his father had given up on their family, and moved two states away, Cary and his mother had finally been free to decorate their house just exactly the way they wanted.

The air spoke of the fresh potpourri they had mixed just that last weekend. Every square inch of space was devoted to the kinder, gentler side of nature that only those with feminine spirits can appreciate.

“Did you have a nice day, Cary?” Her voice carried from the kitchen where the hour suggested she would be concocting something scrumptious. They both watched their figures like owlets, so their dinner would be tasty -- but non-fattening.

Should I tell her?

Cary looked around their home and thanked his lucky stars that his father was at least competent enough as a businessman to provide a lifestyle of ease for his mother and him. . .. He owed them that much, seeing as how he wasn’t capable of providing the kind of emotional support Cary really needed.

She needs to know. “I had a situation on the way home from school. . .again.”

“Oh no!”

He could hear sounds that indicated his mother was setting her cooking aside.

Cary set down the large, leather purse that he used for a book bag.

His father had screamed foul language at his mother when he saw what she had purchased for Cary.

Things are much more peaceful, since the divorce.

Within a moment, she joined him in their pleasantly appointed living room and pulled him into a warm hug. “What happened, my little sweetie-pie?”

“It was those boys, again,” Cary said, his mouth twisting around “boys” as if he had eaten a pickle.

“Darling,” his mother admonished, “you know what I’ve told you about playing with boys. Didn’t you walk home from school, with Susie and Cheryl?”

Cary smiled involuntarily at the mention of his BFFs. Susie and Cheryl were his most-closest friends. They spent most of their afternoons after school playing with him. They either played dolls or dress-up, with their mothers’ clothes. Both Susie and Cheryl’s mothers were divorced. So, they all had that in common.

Sadly, all three children had to see their fathers two or three times a year, Fortunately, the visits occurred, only if their mothers were along, to monitor their fathers’ actions.

“They had cheerleading practice today,” Cary said. Both Cary and his mother frowned at the word “cheerleading.” Their lawsuit, to force the school to allow him to take part on the fifth-grade cheerleading squad, was pending.

The school had said he could be on the squad. But Principal Peter had done the normal male thing and drawn a line, at allowing Cary to wear the same uniform as the girls. The Principal, thinking with his male organs and not his brain, thought Cary should wear something more “male-oriented.”

“Like a jock-strap!” his mother had harrumphed, at the school board meeting when Mr. Peter made his sexist announcement.

“So, what’s bothering my little Snookumsa,” his mother said. She ran her fingers through his ringlets, which made both of them smile, in delight.

“I stopped by the park, for a second, to watch the boys in my class play baseball,” Cary said. “I didn’t have any interest in playing.”

“Of course not,” his mother gasped. “You could’ve broken a nail. Besides, I’ve seen the men they pick for coaches. I wouldn’t want you within a mile of any of them. They strut around absolutely reeking of testosterone.”

“That’s what caused the trouble,” Cary said. He looked down at his shirt, which wasn’t all that feminine, although his mother had bought it in a boutique and it was a color most boys wouldn’t wear.

They had to shop in boutiques, to avoid any chance of a man waiting on them, with all the attending bias.

“Testosterone? What happened?” His mother’s eyes had grown to the size of an overnight moisturizer jar lid, and she had adopted a no-nonsense posture with one foot slightly back of the other -- for good balance.

“It was the way that the boys reek -- that caused all the trouble,” Cary said demurely. He took a seat on the couch and patted a spot next to himself, for his mother. He lovingly touched the gold studs in his ears and made a mental note to wear something more dangly, for dinner.

“Oh,” she said in total agreement, “I know. They should make boys shower after every recess. But please -- go on. Whatever happened, I’m sure we can deal with it.” She smiled bravely. The two of them had been through so much, trying to exist in a male-dominated world.

“It was Tommy who started it,” Cary explained.

“I could have guessed,” she responded. “If there ever was a boy who should be feminized, it’s that Tommy.”

Cary nodded knowingly, thinking about dresses that might possibly look good on Tommy’s rather square body. He sighed. It’s truly wonderful that I’m blessed with a thin, small frame. “It’s not his fault entirely,” Cary allowed. “I’ve met his father and grandfather. He comes by ‘it’ naturally.”

“It” was how Cary and his mother referred to machismo, the worst virus known.

Cary’s mother drummed the coffee table, with her long nails. “I say again, if ever there was a boy who should be forced to wear dresses it’s Tommy.”

Cary clapped his hands together with glee -- at the very notion. Then he frowned. “Too bad he doesn’t have a mommy like you.”

“There are some men who should be locked up or castrated -- so that we don’t have to worry about them,” she said, waving a warning finger in her son’s face. Her smile softened. “You did a nice job with your eyes today, especially the liner.”

“Thank you. You’ve been a great teacher.” His smile faded as he considered the subject at hand. “Oh, I know . . . they’re all devils.” Cary looked puzzled for a moment. “Mommy, if boys are so bad, why do I feel all gooey around them, sometimes.”

“That’s nature’s way of preserving our species. Our bodies tempt us to let down our defenses -- so we breed. Ugh! There are better ways to satisfy those urges. When you’re old enough, I’ll show you how easily men are replaced.” She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “The thing you need to realize is that all men are liars. They pretend to be wild about you, to get you into bed. But after a while, they will all turn against you. Every man I’ve ever known has eventually given into his basic instincts and decided to hate me.”

Cary’s eyes were wide open absorbing everything his mommy told him.

“What did Tommy do to you?” She asked.

“It all started innocently,” Cary said, thinking how castration was a fate too good, for most males. He quietly picked up a nail file and started to work on his cuticle. They always did his nails, before dinner. “Tommy asked me why I wear perfume to school.”

“That’s a strange question,” she said, admiring how diligently her son approached his personal grooming, “even for a boy.”

Cary nodded. “That’s what I thought. I told him I wasn’t wearing perfume. Can you imagine? Who would ever wear perfume to school?”

They both laughed at how stupid males often can be.

“I told him that the scent he was smelling was a combination of my body wash, deodorant, and bath powder.”

“Is that when he started making fun of you? I’ve warned his mother about him picking on you. We could get another restraining order.”

Cary giggled, thinking about how many boys had to stay at least one hundred feet away from him. “No, I could tell he actually like my lavender scent. I wanted to do something nice for him, in return.”

“That was sweet of you.” She gave him a hug that spoke of her pride. “What did you do?”

“Tommy smelled like something between a dead squirrel and a dog’s gland. I leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, telling him just that. I didn’t want to embarrass him, in front of all those other boys. But he needed to know. Only a true friend would ever tell him something like that.”

“You did the right thing.” She patted his hand.

Cary felt the smoothness of her skin and grinned when he remembered all the lotions he used to be just as soft as her. “Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” He pushed an errant hair behind his ear, in a move that hadn’t been “natural” for him -- until he had practiced it for hours, in front of his floor-to-ceiling bedroom mirror. “Tommy evidently misheard me because he got really angry and said something I just could never repeat. I thought it best to get out of there before something awful happened. I ran all the way home. I’m sure the boys were chasing me because that’s what their kind does.”

“Oh, Cary! Do you mean all those men coaches stood around and allowed Tommy to scare you, without doing anything to save you?”

Cary nodded.

“Typical. Thank goodness you got home safely. Home is your oasis. Are you sure you’re okay.”

“I was so worried they would catch me and de-pants me.”

His mother nodded knowingly. She had many times told Cary the story of how she had run away from her grandfather -- when she had been sure that he had been thinking about molesting her.

Cary had discarded all of his male underthings that previous fall and wore only panties. He had made a slip of the tongue one day in class, about how nice it felt to be wearing nylon panties rather than horrid cotton underwear.

Ever since -- the boys were always trying to embarrass Cary by pulling down his jeans.

Principal Peter refused to warn the boys to stop.

“Mom,” Cary asked. “Do you think I’ll ever have beautiful breasts like yours?”

She smiled. “I’m so glad we were able to get the clinic to start your hormone treatments.” It had taken nearly six months, in court, to force the horrible man who ran the clinic, to do the right thing. They had found a wonderful female attorney who used legal magic, to help them.

Cary was the youngest boy they knew of, to be approved, for hormone therapy.

“We’re so lucky that we were able to get your case in front of a female judge. She didn’t see you as an eleven-year-old boy. But as a girl whose body would soon be poisoned by testosterone.”

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” Carrie enthused, glancing down at the outline of a training bra under her blouse. “Once I have my surgery, in a few years, I will have successfully avoided male-patterned ‘oafiness.’”

They laughed and gave each other a soft, celebratory, high-five.

Carrie became serious. “I am a girl -- aren’t I, Mommy?”

She shook her head at the obvious fishing, for a compliment. “Of course, you are, Honey.”

“Mom,” Carrie stated, “I can’t wait for the day when they cut off my ugly penis and testicles.”

His mother laughed gaily. “I think I know exactly how you feel. But nice girls don’t say nasty words like that out loud.”

Carrie looked puzzled. “I’m confused. You and I often talk about the advantages of having a vagina.”

“You must never let a man tell you not to speak openly about women’s issues. They try to make us uncomfortable with our own bodies. But, Carrie,” her mother warned sternly, “there is a world of difference between a vagina and a penis.”

A happy, healthy daughter nodded and skipped merrily out of the room.

All was well, in the world of two women -- where everything was approached with an eye for balance.

***

I woke to the sound of my dad calling me for breakfast.

I have to hurry. My little league game starts in an hour. I’m pitching today. Tom and Mario think I might pitch a non—hitter!

I grinned while running my hand through my brush-cut. That was one crazy nightmare I had last night.

A boy in our class, Stephan, walks funny and must have made me think of all that crazy stuff.

Dad’s my best friend and the greatest guy in the world.

My coach is amazing and makes me feel good about myself. Playing baseball is my favorite time of the week.

My principal is a woman who loves all of us.

However. . .!

The End

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a kudos and a comment. They mean a lot to me.

Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

I have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list, you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:

Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Thing You Always Pined For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
The Handshake That Hides the Snake
I have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list, you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:
Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Things You Always Pined For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
Minnifer
Voices Carry
Andy and Dawn
The Handshake That Hides the Snake

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Comments

Welcome

RAMI

Welcome to BCTS. Interesting story.
Please read my PM

Rami

RAMI

This is a good story, with a

Piper's picture

This is a good story, with a good premise.

As with everything, I wish it were a bit longer. :)

That being said, I understand the behind the scenes reasons for the hatred, but the complete and utter hatred for the male race, seems to detract a bit from this story. As much as I liked the tenderness the mother had with her daughter, I kept wanting to defend the male friends and family I have, that are nothing like the overly stereotypical macho men in this story.

I hope to see more stories from you soon!

-HuGgLeS-
-P/KAF/PT


"Science is just magic with an explanation, and bumblebees are just tiny little fairies in disguise. :)" Submitted by Erin on Sun, 2010/04/04 - 6:37pm.



"She was like a butterfly, full of color and vibrancy when she chose to open her wings, yet hardly visible when she closed them."
— Geraldine Brooks


I agree wholeheartedly

This is indeed a great story, but the mother's guttural hatred for the male of the species has to cause problems in the future for Cary. Still, it is certainly apparent that this is indeed completely voluntary change on the part of the child so most if not all is good with the world. :)

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

First, WELCOME TO BCTS.

This is a very good story of a conversation between a mother and daughter about the testosteronic morons called boys/men. I had similar talks with my aunt Caroline in my pre-adolesence in the 1950's. Everybody seems to think that I had it easy, and while I didn't get called nasty names, and had a lot of support from my grandma Dolly and aunt Caroline, my grandpa Jack and uncle Johnny didn't agree with how I wanted to live my life. I learned early to avoid them whenever possible, except for one Christmas which kinda changed everything. I will write about that this Christmas.

But this story needs to definitely be continued, and I think I say what everybody else is thinking. Will Tommy get his? I guess we just have to wait an see. If you need help with the court scenes or how a restraining order hearing goes in open court I will be willing to help you. By the way, the hatred that is the main theme of this story is, I have found out, a real hatred with some women because of the amount of men they have been with and they all seemingly just up and left with no explanation. I know I have a problem trusting men, even today for personal reasons. So I know where this premise comes from. Don't let others detract you from your way of writing. Some of the members here if they had their way would be dictating how a story is written and what it says. So you just continue in your unique style of writing. It is what makes your stories different than the rest.

You do have a talent and it shines in every line here. But please continue this...please. Thank you for sharing.

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

"With confidence and forbearance, we will have the strength to move forward."

Love & hugs,
Barbara

"If I have to be this girl in me, Then I have the right to be."

Can We Ask for Help?

Thank you for the warm welcome. I'm just looking for a few good friends and maybe my writing will help identify them.

Thank you so much for your kind offer of help. I know so little about writing. I suppose I could be one of those who would be easily swayed by those who say things about what I write. I think a story should tell itself - don't you? Although a kind person to steer me in the right direction would be a blessing. My therapist says I'm too impressional for my own good.

I'm not sure what everyone means in their wonderful private messages, and in those that are public, about hatred of men. My goodness. I'm just trying to write a story that reflects real life. I know a man who's nice, even though he doesn't like me.

I'm not sure I want to write any more about Carrie, because you know bad things are going to happen in her life when those boys go through puberty. Sometimes when boys approached me I had a hard time remembering my chastity.

Maybe I should write a prequel about how her mother came to her rescue when she was just starting school and exhibited all those male traits that needed correcting.

Maybe I should write a story in which the mother is actually forcing her child to be feminine, even though I don't believe in such a thing?

So many widely varied stories!

I think there are good men within the Church, don;t you?

Ann Caron

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Ah, so you have thought about it

As a reader and occasional writer I want to know WHY, why did an important character do what they did?

Why does the child feel she is a girl though born a boy? Was she always this way or manipulated, drugged from early on by her man hating mom? If she is on medically supervised HRT at age 12, was mom doing it unsupervised from an early age on?

Why does Mom seem to hate men so much? Just the way she is or was she abused, betrayed, cheated on by her ex? She did marry a man, did she love him or simple feel presured to be *conventional*?

The story overall: is this a loving transformation of a willing child? Is this an unwittingly manipulated transformation of an otherwise unwilling child by a mom who mistakenly thinks this is what the child wants/needs? Or is this just the mom *getting even* with men by making sure her child never can be one?

Her tone is loving but anyone who opposes or questions her viewpoint is labled as a testosterone poisioned. Why the negative vibes?

Sorry, I grew up in the 60's and 70's.

Great stand alone as is or could be expanded.

Welcome to BC,

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

What Is a Wauwatosa?

Oh my, it seems my silly little childhood remembrance has really upset some people.

Why would people think Mommy did anything other than provide for me?

Oh sure, she helped me make up my mind about things, but here I am in college working toward an advanced degree, so life can't be all bad.

Why is it that when a women asserts her rights people question her motives?

Ann Caron

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Dear John Letter

Dear John -

I posted this under another name so that it would be read without bias, but it soon became apparent that bit of dishonesty outweighed the outcome.

The question in this story isn't Why? The question is How. How can this women allow her attitude about men to be so bad? How can she be so blind to the impact she's having on her child's life? How can she be such a blatant fool?

We are all in charge of our own attitude. That isn't just a bumper sticker, that is a fact.

There are bad men and good men. There are bad women and good women. To suggest that all men are bad is simply stupid. To use that idiotic paradigm as the bulwark of your child-rearing is abusive.

I'm a man in many ways, mostly physical. Some of my nicest things are male. The preponderance of what I am is female. Being female doesn't make it any less offensive to read man-hater stories. I wrote this to make a point as Robyn stated. My co-auther helped me smooth the story and push it out of drydock. I expect big things from Belle Meade in the future.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Welcome

Zoe Taylor's picture

Hello, Ann, and welcome to the Big Closet!

I haven't had a chance to read your story yet, going through a sort of personal crisis right now, but I noticed the welcome comments, and wanted to toss in my own little 'Hi there'.

You've stepped into one of the most kind and supportive online communities that it has been my pleasure to be a member for a very long time.

Folks don't always agree with each other I'll grant, but I've always felt I could come crying home when I needed it, and they haven't run me off yet :-)

I have some writing to do myself to strike while the iron's hot so to speak, but I'll try and read your piece soon.

Best wishes, and again, welcome!

~Zoe T.


"We have not the reverent feeling for the rainbow that the savage has, because we know how it is made. We have lost as much as we gained by prying into that matter."
-- Mark Twain

~* Queen of Sweetness *~

Become a Patron for early access ♥

Zoe Is Such a Pretty name

My favorite movie actress is named Zoe.

Ann Caron

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Thank you! Mine is as well,

Zoe Taylor's picture

Thank you! Mine is as well, though I'm embarassed to admit I'd never heard of her until I found out she did the voice acting in a lot of video games - Kreia in Knights of the Old Republic 2, as well as the old woman whose name suddenly escapes me, in Fable 2 to name a couple - Zoe Wanamaker. I could listen to her for hours. :-D

For my part, the day I decided to join the community I just kind of... plucked it out of the air, added a surname similar enough to(But more English than... I don't even know what-ish than) my own, and it kind of stuck, but people tell me, when I'm not going on a rampage at least, that I sound like a Zoe, which always makes me smile.

The only Zoe I've ever actually known was the sweetest, kindest girl I've ever met.

I'd like to think I could be more like her :-)


"We have not the reverent feeling for the rainbow that the savage has, because we know how it is made. We have lost as much as we gained by prying into that matter."
-- Mark Twain

~* Queen of Sweetness *~

Become a Patron for early access ♥

Jill

joannebarbarella's picture

You're really having fun, aren't you?

Snicker,

Joanne

Am I missing something?

I read a story by Angela Rasch, one of my favourite writers and, moreover, quite prolific, yet everyone is heading their comments with a 'Welcome to BCTS' message. I can only assume she originally posted it under a pseudonym that has only now been revealed.

Anyway, I rather think those who've said that what spoils the story is the extreme dislike of the mother and her son for everything male are also missing something ... the point. Angela, in her own unique way, is being slightly naughty and I like it.

Robi

I did wonder

Zoe Taylor's picture

When I first responded, it just said "New Author", so I figured I'd be polite :-D

Edit: Clarification/rewrite. I'm tired.


"We have not the reverent feeling for the rainbow that the savage has, because we know how it is made. We have lost as much as we gained by prying into that matter."
-- Mark Twain

~* Queen of Sweetness *~

Become a Patron for early access ♥

All's Well in the World of Women!!!

Andrea Lena's picture

...I like this story. I'm not so sure I should be very hasty in recommending it to another; after all, my mother always cautioned me not to make Rasch decisions. Or as Barry Fitzgerald might say, "Im-PET-chu-us!"

STILL TERRIFIC!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

Ielhave Another

Ielhave can be very moody. One minute she's the life of the party and the next she's nearly comatose.

The whole Another family is a bit strange.

My favorite is Lovone.

Followed closely by Dounbemeantoone.

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

It would perplex me...

...if the guys she knew didn't hate her given the abrasive, pompass nature of that womans attitude. And NO all men do NOT LIE!

At first when I read that she/he ran not really knowing that she was being chased it brought to mind the verse: 'the wicked flee when no man pursues'. But I thought better of that knowing that the kid is reacting to a near brainwashing indoctrination by the sexist bigotry of the mother.

And introducing Angela Rasch as "Ann"...

laika's picture

From the comments welcoming you to BCTS in 2010 I see you submitted this under an alias to see how people would react. This is deliciously subversive, like a circa 1980's Randy Newman song where he adopts the persona of a racist, totally deadpan throughout. Those got him in a lot of trouble with listeners who didn't look below the surface to see how much he hated and was rideculing what he was ostensibly saying. People have been crucified for less.

I seem to recall identifying this story as satire in a comment before you
revealed yourself as the author but don't see my comment, so maybe not.
~big girly, man-hating hugs, Veronica
.

Whatever happened to the funky Duke of Earl????
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhPgXA5-D_E

Missed by That Much

I was trying for Kinky Friedman -- circa 1970s.

Close -- but is that a cigar or. . .?

Jill

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

A perfect satire

A perfect satire I've almost missed 'cause you publish so much lately.