Pig Male Ian

Is there anything that can be done for Ian – or to Ian?

He is so dreadfully macho and so unnecessarily rude and unkind - even nasty, to the girls of the neighbourhood. Perhaps more riskily, he is rude and ungracious to their mothers.

There are a number of comments here about abuse and non-physical abuse; I would hugely appreciate feedback on some of what is written here. Alys P

“I do not believe this. This is the fourth time this week that there has been a complaint about your behaviour.”

“But I’m only messing about. If they can’t take a joke, mum.”

“If even one of them had said perhaps they misunderstood your sense of humour – that would be different. If even one of them had said that what you did was in the faintest bit funny – that would be different. If I was able to persuade even one of them that there was something humorous about what you said or did then perhaps we could accept that you merely had a misplaced sense of fun. But not one single event with one single girl has been at all ‘funny’. What you do is not funny or kind or decent or polite. What you say is not proper or reasonable or respectful or well-mannered. These girls and their parents do not find you or your attitudes or your actions ‘funny’. I do not find anything ‘funny’ in what you do or say. Only you – and your judgement is, as demonstrated, very poor – find anything ‘funny’ about what you have been up to. There is a large probability that some of your ‘pals’ think you are funny but I am completely certain, confident beyond question that not one of them has any concept of decent behaviour.”

“The more accurate description of your behaviour is foul, unattractive, improper, rude, vile, ugly and I could go on until I found a word for every other letter of the alphabet. You are a disgusting thing. You do not behave in any way appropriate to a boy and everything you do and say to girls is wrong. On the rare occasions you behave nicely, I am so proud of you. But so much of the time you are horrible.” I was trying not to cry.

[Awful, bad, condescending, debased, evil, foul, grubby, harassing, idiotic, juvenile, kruel, loud, macho, nasty, odious, priggish, questionable, rude, stupid, tiresome, unattractive, vile, worrying, (some letters are trickier than others)…. xcessive, yorpy and zubbish.]

“Have you got anything worthwhile to say to excuse your behaviour. Do NOT try to come up with futile bleatings about how your life is such a mess – for the next few minutes you need to grow up and think and behave as near to an adult as it is possible for you. You need to analyse why you have done the things you have done. You need to give ME reasons why I don’t throw you to the doubtful mercy of child services, the police and the juvenile courts. You need to give me reasons why I can begin to contemplate the unrealistic idea that you might be willing to change.

“Oh, if you can’t think straight and as capably as you are able then say ‘ I have no good answer yet, mother.” That is the only alternative that will keep my temper from being quite remarkably uncontrolled. And… you… would …not… like… that.” Ian knew that I was beyond fury because I said the last sentences in a very controlled near whisper.

“Erm, I think I’ll go with ‘I haven’t got an answer yet’.”

I was still furious so I decided to pick up his inaccuracy. “No, it didn’t offer ‘erm, I’ll think I’ll go with’ – I gave you a specific 7 words. Again ‘I have no good answer yet, mother’.

I watched his expression – he was not expecting to be picked up for what he saw as a mere technicality. “Again” I said.

“I’m sorry, I have no good answer yet, mother’.

“Again, I am a little pleased that you added a ‘sorry’ but you did not say what I requested – so – again, please.” This time his expression almost showed shock. I felt that we might get somewhere worthwhile if I could keep the pressure going.

“I have no good answer yet, mother.”

“Excellent. On the third attempt you managed 7 adequate words with correct grammar and enunciation. Perhaps there is something we can work on. So, your next sentence. ‘Mrs Jennings and Miss Melissa, I am sorry that I said and did unkind things to you’. A mere 17 short and simple words. You may practice that three times and then we will go out and say it to them next door.”

If Ian had been shocked a few moments ago – he was now demonstrating deep shock and perhaps a little panic and amazement.

After a glare from me and an encouraging wave of the hand, he stuttered and began ‘M M Mrs Jennings and Melissa, I’m sorry that I said and did unkind things …….. to you.”

I reduced my glare a fraction “Not quite, you forgot the Miss for Melissa and you were sloppy with the ‘I am’ – again please.”

Both the next two versions were satisfactory. I did then give a very small and minimally supportive ‘That will do.” I did also note to myself that I corrected my imminent ‘that’ll’ into ‘that will’. If I was going to pick him up on every grammatical imprecision then I would have to do it right myself. Damn.

“Since you are going to demonstrate sorrow and correct behaviour you will need to dress correctly too. This is not an occasion for sweat pants, grubby t-shirt, filthy trainers and the like. Upstairs with you – you will wear your black corduroy trousers, black shoes and an ironed shirt. I do not expect an argument about this. You have no idea how cross I am and what measures I am contemplating to ensure that I get back the decent bits of my son.” The glare was back, fortunately.

Interestingly, he neither ran nor stomped upstairs. As the police would have it ‘he proceeded in an orderly manner towards his bedroom.’ I almost smiled at my description.

Some minutes later, my son descended the stairs. He was looking smart, tidy, clean and almost polished. I felt a glimmer of pride and a glimmer of hope. Perhaps there was a worthwhile future for him – and us. I gave him an abbreviated well done, that does look considerably better. “I have some hope that you can now apologise in a manner that comes across as meaningful and deliberate.”

We went next door. Instead of plunging through the door as would be usual, I told Ian to knock and take two steps back and wait. We waited. Lorraine opened the door and looked at us. I could see her swallow the words ‘why didn’t you come straight in as you always do’ and amend her words to ‘So, young man, you’ve come here to say something have you – I hope you are ashamed of what you did and said’.

Ian was by now a little flustered. His rehearsed apology did not come out quite right. “I’m sorry, no, I am sorry, Mrs Jennings for what I said and did and I will say the same to Melissa, sorry, Miss Melissa, as soon as I can’.

Considering the circumstances and the absence of Melissa – I did wonder whether this was acceptable. I decided not. I was going to milk this situation as much as I could; to strike while the iron was hot [branding-iron]. “You just don’t think do you, young man. Since Melissa was not present, you should have waited. You should have said either ‘Mrs Jennings could you ask Miss Melissa to come to the door’ or else ‘May I come in, Mrs Jennings as I have to apologise to both you and Miss Melissa’. When are you going to learn enough that it is no longer acceptable to have you making these obvious mistakes.”

Ian’s expression made it clear that he had not realized that this situation was far beyond a casual fix and that he was going to have to put in some real effort. I could see that he wanted to go indoors where his apology would be a little more private. “Go on, ask if Miss Melissa could come to the door!”

“Excuse me, Mrs Jennings, could you ask if Melissa could come to the door as I must apologise to both of you.”

I hissed at him ‘Miss Melissa, I told you.”

But Wendy had already turned her head and called ‘Mel, can you come to the door please,” ….. there was a pause of some seconds ….. “er, Mel, now – to the door,”

She was an ordinary girl, a little overweight at the age of fourteen, poor quality hair and, worst of all, a dull expressionless face. I remembered the happy, excited girl of a year or so back and decided that if Ian had had anything to do with killing that girl – he would do his very best, his very very best to make her happy again. I decided I needed a good ‘heart-to-heart’ with the girl who was to all intents and purposes a nearby-niece.

Ian did try quite hard this time, “Excuse me, Mrs Jennings and Miss Melissa, I need to apologise and say I am sorry for the things I said and the things I did. I should not have done them.”

He glanced at me so I said “Not accurate, but acceptable because you went a little further with your apology.” He turned back to Wendy and Melissa.

They were looking at him with a combination of shock that ‘the horrid boy’ had made such an obvious effort, pleasure that they had been recognised as being due an apology and some concern as to how they were supposed to react. I gave them a hint.

“Well, step one has been performed. Ian has said he is sorry. Can we now go indoors and discuss what happens next. Obviously just saying sorry is not enough. I have to know exactly what Ian has been saying and doing to you and the other local girls – or even boys sometimes, I would guess.” I saw Ian’s expression and knew that some of the local boys had been treated badly by him too.

I gave a further hint as we sat down. “Now, ladies, I have been reading about abuse – and it is not just physical, it can be emotional, mental, social as well and other things too – even financial and medical. I am sure that Ian and Melissa will be able to give examples. BUT, I do know and I am telling you that it is not always about the actual event or the words or the actions. The, no, A primary factor is the perception of the victim. If the target is able to say and feel ‘that comment is of no importance and no matter to me’ then the target is no longer a victim. If the comment or action causes pain and hurt then even if it was not intended then that is abuse and unkindness. If the target does not even notice then there is no victim and the powerplay is of no importance.

“Abuse is primarily about Power. It’s not about sex or race or colour or gender or anything else – abuse occurs because the Abuser wants control over the Target stroke Victim. And don’t believe that all abuse is by men on women – the statistics seem to say that it is about 2 to 1. The wife who hits her husband with a golf club breaking his leg or who pours boiling coffee into his groin is an abuser. Yes, there will be occasions where it is retaliation but two wrongs rarely make a right. There will even be situations of alternating imbalance where both partners are dysfunctional and they each have very different powerplays where one and then the other takes the position of abuser or victim.

“Abuse is all too often begun by the abuser detecting a difference which he can use to mistreat the target. Being female is the most common – but there are so many differences and every now and again some abuser will pick YOU and then abuse you. It can happen at school, in the home, at work and in any situation.

“So – Ian – would you like to begin – what have you done, say, yesterday or even the last week that has upset Melissa. Did you do it to be nasty? Did you do it because others were doing it? Did you do it because it made you feel big and strong? I am treating you as an intelligent boy and I want answers that you mean.”

Ian was beginning to realize that his relationship with me had altered and that there were going to be changes in his life.

He swallowed several times. “I truly am sorry, Melissa. I should be your friend, we’ve known each other a long time and we’ve played games and stuff at your house and my house – and recently I’ve been a complete prat. Like mum said, sometimes I’ve done it to be ‘one of the lads’ but why, oh why, should I have to be unkind to you because they think you’re not right – whatever they mean by that.

“I’ve been a real prat. And I’m sorry. No, say it right, twit, I … am …sorry. I will be sorry for a long time unless I can put it right. I don’t know how I’m going to do that. I’m going to ask for your help – even if I don’t deserve it.

“I suppose part of this is I don’t have a clue about girls. I like them. I definitely like them – but I have no clue about how they think, what I should say, what I … well, let’s just say I’m a fairly typical 14 year old – and I haven’t got a clue – and because of that I tease them in the wrong way, I interact, when I have to, in the wrong way. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” said Melissa. “It’s about time you realized you were doing it all wrong. You’ve been a complete pig some of the time. All the worst of the male, nacho things that you boys do at school – you have copied them and done it worse and more nastily. You push us, you knock us out of your way to your locker, you snigger when it’s our monthly, you snigger when we don’t laugh at your oh-so-macho-ness, you won’t say hello if you are with your ‘mates’. You spend no time with me anymore unless YOU want to – and then I have to do what you want. You don’t …. Well, I think I ought to make a list – and even for the last week I’ll be able to make quite a long list. And that’s before I talk with Lisa, and Marie and Jane and tall Jane and Alice and the rest of our class.”

Ian looked dumbfounded by this outburst. “But, I didn’t …” He broke off as I raised my hand.

“No, Ian. No excuses right now. You have begun, I repeat ‘begun’ your apology. Melissa has begun her reply. Now, Wendy, what can you add?”

“I suppose I too have been waiting for an opportunity to tell Ian what a right little scrote he has turned into in the last year or so. He and Melissa used to have a great time. I couldn’t count the number of times I have come home to find either two children or no children in my house. And for the last year, no longer than that, I have had Melissa mostly on her own doing things by herself or sometimes with the girls she listed. And once in a while she would be at one of their houses. But not with the happiness and joy and, yes, fun, that she used to do with Ian. Yes, I’ll go with Mel’s comment – you’ve turned into a right little horrid young male, a pig in fact, young Ian.”

“I knew it wouldn’t last as they changed from being kids into a boy and a girl – but Ian didn’t have to drop Mel like a dirty rag – which is what it looked like. My Mel is a nice girl and deserved and indeed deserves better. Ian you’re a …. or you have become a tosspot and a rotten example and a poor friend. It’s only the years of being a good friend that has let me allow you back in here on those now and again occasions when you have felt like being nice to my daughter.

Ian was actually looking a little upset, distressed even. Good.

There was silence for a while. Several minutes. Melissa got a pen and wrote some things down.

When she had paused for a while, I asked what she had written. “Well, auntie, I was thinking – Ian says he’s been a rotten little pig because he doesn’t know anything about being a girl and how to treat them and so on. I’m willing to give him some lessons – that is if he wants and everyone agrees.”

“What sort of lessons, hummm,” I asked.

“Just how to be nice to girls, how to understand them better. How not to be a horrid BOY.”

“Well, perhaps that will do – for a start.” I had no idea what I meant by that but now that there was a possibility of Ian learning to be a little nicer I was not going to let him off the hook. “Sounds quite interesting, from our point of view, and the possibility of learning how to be a decent young man if Ian puts some significant and long-term effort into it.” I reinforced this with another semi-glare in his direction.

He put his hand up – what – he put his hand up to ask a question - Victor Meldrew moment ‘I just don’t believe this’. I gave a little nod.

“Do I have any say in this?” he asked. “Please.”

“No. But I’ll add ‘not yet’. Just by asking that question in the way you have has earned you at least that. However, it is your previous and recent behaviour that gets the big ‘no’. We’ll see. The summer holidays starts in 2 weeks. We’ll keep an eye on things until the end of term. Thanks be that you’re not having an end-of-term fling after finishing exams. Good behaviour between now and then as well as some sessions with Melissa – then we’ll make some decisions.” I did feel mellow enough to offer “Is that fair.”

“Yes, mum, that’s fair, probably fairer than I deserve.”

“Right, okay, then,” chirped Mel, “I’ll go and get some games and toys from upstairs so that we can teach Ian a bit more about girls and what they like.” She scampered upstairs giggling. She seemed happier than for some time.

Mel was down in a moment. She had a box full of toys and records (no, girls hardly ever use the word ‘stuff’). And, yes, there was a preponderance of glitter, pink and pastel.

“Right, let’s show you how girls play. No, you don’t do it be leaning down from the chair. Come down here onto the carpet with me. Now, this is my game and you need to listen. This is Barbie – we’re not going to play with her unless you want to – I was going to play with My Little Pony. There’s five of them and you need to learn their names.

“I’m going to teach you how girls speak differently. They use different adjectives, their voices have a different rhythm and flow. I’m not going to teach you to speak like a girl – but I think that you should be able to LISTEN like a girl. If you have some small understanding about how they speak – then you might begin to know how to respond to what they say and what they mean. If you listen then they might listen to you. If you do well with them and to them – then there is a chance that they might do better with them. Do you understand?”

“Erm, I’m not sure. But I’ll do my best.”

“Can’t say fairer than that. So this is Merrylegs, the chestnut with the dark brown mane; this second chestnut with the long blonde mane and tail is Trixie; the third one, the black, is Beauty of course; The green one is called Salamander; and the fifth one with the pale purple colouring is Princess Lavender.”

I watched the two heads close together on the carpet. After a minute or so, Wendy caught my eye and we went into the kitchen for tea and talk.

Some while later, we went back into the sittingroom. Melissa was there and she had moved on from the My Little Ponies to haircare and makeovers. Ian was sitting there with his fingers spread and bright pink polish drying on his nails. His face bore the marks of a quantity of makeup applied by a not very experienced assistant. His eyes, in particular, were heavily coated with mascara.

Melissa poked Ian in the ribs – hard. He jumped and she hissed at him, “say what I told you”

“Look, mummy, we’re playing dress-up. Mel has been showing me how pretty my eyes would look with mascara. I only cried once when she stuck it in my eye.” He-she had begun by looking at me, but the last bit was spoken to the floor in a bit of a mumble.

Could I fail to take this opportunity – could I, would, I, should I – well heck what would you have done.

“Oh, darling, you look so pretty. Melissa has done such a lovely job for her first time. You look adorable.”

By this time, Wendy was clicking away with the camera. Ian barely noticed so sunk was he in imminent depression at what was being done to him.

Melissa snarled at him – as prettily as a teenage girl ever does such a thing. “I told you that you were to say you were enjoying yourself, so get a smile back on your face and get with the message. Now.”

Ian flinched. He was not used to having a girl of his own age speak to him like that. And actually Melissa was a few months younger and a couple of inches shorter. It was startling to see that he had dropped some of his worse habits in only an hour or so and almost totally because I had spoken sharply to him and yanked his chain. Good Dog – Good Boy – Sit, Stay - Be Nice to Girls - Don’t Answer Back. It seemed so simple now.

I guessed that the course of true obedience was not going to run this smooth!


The next day, Ian got up as poorly as usual. So, did I take the opportunity to give him a bit more of the same treatment – well surprise me and hit me with a brick – of course I did.

“Ian, darling. It’s only 12 hours since I had to speak to you rather severely. Can you remember what I said - and yes, perhaps my memory will not have all the words in the exactly right order. I know that I said ‘what you say and do is not proper or reasonable or respectful or well-mannered.’ I know I said ‘You need to give me reasons why I can begin to contemplate the unrealistic idea that you might be willing to change.’

“And what you are doing right now is not what I have expected and am now demanding from my child. Did you hear that ‘demanding’. You have got away with too much for too long. Are you beginning to understand?”

Ian was, by now, at last, out of bed and getting ready. He was in the shower already and – ever the sloth with multi-tasking skills – was brushing his teeth at the same time!

I called out over the noise of the shower in the en-suite behind the curtain – “I’ll get your breakfast ready as usual. I want you nicely dressed, ready for everything in 5 minutes.”

To my amazement I heard ‘Yes, mother’ as I left!

While he was on the way to school, I emailed the headmistress and his main teachers. “I believe that it is never too late to act even though it may be ‘quite late’. I am not impressed with Ian’s recent behaviour as seen by me and as reported to me. You may or may not notice some changes today and in the near future. I would be very grateful if you would keep me informed of any poor behaviour by Ian.’

It would be interesting to see what came across the ether in the next few days. As the end of term approached, there would usually be high spirits and, in Ian’s case, much pranking and messing around. I was keen to reduce the nasty element which I had noticed had been creeping in. Humour with style – that would be a tricky one to teach.

I went off to work at the employment agency. We were specialists and dealt with executives mostly. But we do help other agencies and as I drove I was thinking what sort of job could I set up for Ian. It needed to be the ‘right’ sort of job where he could be overseen and where any mistakes could be reported to me and ‘dealt with’ so to speak.

During the morning, a couple of neat suggestions slithered twistily into my mind - how or even could Ian be able to be acceptable the owner of the local ladies shop as a stock-clerk?! What about waitressing for the local caterers? What jobs were available for a boy undergoing careful re-orientation?

During the day, I had several emails from the school. Generally they were interested that Ian was being pulled back from his recent disappointing behaviour. Very sadly, for Ian at least, there were two that referred to his behaviour during the day. Being generous and knowing Ian better than the new teacher who was commenting, it was possible that she had misunderstood – but why waste the opportunity.

“During the French class, I asked a girl for a translation and she got it quite wrong. Ian made a comment which I could not hear but it caused an outburst of what I can only call vulgar sniggering – so we can all guess the type of comment he made.”

“During the lunch break, I saw Ian playing football with his crowd – when the ball bounced awkwardly and the girl it was going toward somehow controlled the ball and passed it back, rather well I thought. Ian called something to her and she went bright red. I can only assume that she was embarrassed by what he said.” I knew that this could only be Diana Benson who had used to play football often with the boys’ team but had been made to give it up by the local sports organisers who couldn’t bear the idea of mixed teams.

So – the stupid boy thought that he could revert to his usual ugly behaviour once he was out of my sight. Oh dear. Now what steps would be the exactly right ones for this evening? Did I need to involve Melissa or Wendy?

I sat and had my early evening tea – a drink would have been nice but I kept that for special occasions when I could share with someone rather than risking toping on my own. Hmmmmm – yes – I think a few sessions as a waitress would be best. Actually working in a shop as his first job might limit things. Being something as transient as a waitress would give him experience at being an unnoticed person as well as having to do exactly what was required promptly and efficiently. Such easy tasks for a teenager. Ha.

So – in the near future, I would enrol him as waitress unless, by some medium-sized miracle, his behaviour improved beyond all expectation. As for the immediate future – I would deal with the reports about his behaviour during the day.

As a confirmation, I ensured that Melissa was updated with the two reports and I asked Melissa if she was aware of any inappropriate actions, speech or attitude by the boy during the day.

To my surprise, she answered quickly and said ‘there were issues that she could report but the two from the teachers were quite sufficient for now. She would keep hers in reserve as ‘general comments about attitude’.

Again – so – the boy arrived at the house and I immediately went on the attack. “You are so - eeuuughhhh – stupid. How did you think I would not have arranged for the people at school to keep an eye on you. I have had reports about you and what you have done today.” As one might expect – he went a pleasing combination of white and scarlet.

“I have decided that yesterday was a worthwhile indication to you of what I would expect when you behaved badly – but I clearly need to decide a more significant method which will actually trigger the change in attitude that is so obviously necessary.”

“What d’y mean?”

“It is going to be necessary to make you take new steps in a new direction away from the way of life you have been demonstrating – and which you demonstrated again today. You can bluster and huff as much as you can but for the immediate future – you are going to learn a series of lessons about who you are and what you can be!”

“Wha.. wha.. what ..”

I interrupted. “Last night I said you need to think before you speak. Making stupid noises like a helicopter isn’t going to help in the slightest. I gave birth to a boy and I expected you to grow into a young man of whom I could be proud. Can you look me in the eye and say you are a good example, are you in truth someone with quality?”

As I looked at him, his eyes fell. And once more I was amazed at his next action – “I have no good answer, Mother.”

“Well, to me, that is wonderful evidence that you can learn and you have learned. Well done.” And I meant every word.

This got me a flicker of a smile, concealed by the hair hanging down to his neck. I had noted that he had been growing his hair for some time but I had decided during the day that I would be insisting on him ‘taking proper care of it’. This would mean proper washing, conditioning, daily brushing, avoidance of tangles, split ends, proper cutting and trimming. In fact all the processes that a young girl would have learnt by simple osmosis from daily life.

When I had that thought ‘what a young girl learns by simple osmosis’ – that was when I decided what would happen to Ian if he continued to behave as what I now had realized was a rather typical loutish, brattish boy. Each time I calculated that the girl’s approach to an issue or way of behaving was ‘better’ then each time, Ian would be made to learn that ‘better’ method – and each time I would insist on the correct dress for the activity.

Helping in the kitchen – at the least that would require an apron
Looking after his hair – that would require visits to the salon
Looking after his nails (which he sometimes chewed) – the salon
Learning one public method of looking after other people’s needs – being a waitress

Then the larger issues - impoliteness to girls, nastiness about their costume – he would have to wear their clothes, learn how difficult it was to avoid showing his panties or a glimpse of stocking-top. I knew he teased Melissa when he saw her bra or panties – obvious solution. I knew that he tried to look up the girl’s skirts at the coffeeshops in the mall – how would he cope in a skirt. Each misbehaviour – a suitable outcome – and an improvement in his behaviour.

That evening I saw in the local paper, an advertisement for My Fair Lady – and I realized that over the next year or so I would be doing a sort of Pygmalion on my son. It was only when I read the ad a second time that the joke connected.

Time would tell – would I, as a modern day equivalent of the Professor, be able to turn the young piggish male Ian Wiggins into a new persona like Eliza. And how much Eliza would I have to make him become before I got the right result. I sat and thought for a while about the propriety and indeed ethics of what I was thinking.

In recalled some of the sites I had looked at and the stories, some allegedly real and some fictional. I was obviously thinking along the lines of indoctrination but would I go as far as some and dose him with hormones and the like so as to enforce some of the changes. No – I knew I would not be able to do that. I would keep to the simple track – trying to adjust his behaviour by showing the attractive aspects of womanhood. And my decision was that he would learn best about women and girls by dressing and living with girls as a girl.

Was I being wrong to insist on better behaviour – obviously nobody would argue there.
Was it wrong to use unusual methods – well, mere persuasion had failed repeatedly.
Was I somehow looking for a daughter – no, and that would have been quite wrong.

Time would tell.

But with the improvements that were already becoming apparent – I felt it would be almost worse to stop. The Pig was fading away – I wanted the best of the Male Ian but enhanced by all the insights he would gain from learning a quantity of feminine attributes and traits.

My re-training would continue – and I would use Melissa, her mother and anyone else to fix my boy.


It is now some weeks later – my child now responds to the name of Ina and displays all the positive characteristics of her occasional gender. Please note that I say occasional gender as after some lengthy discussions with Melissa, the two have decided that they are well suited to a long-term relationship.

But Melissa had a special request – she wanted both Ian as a male partner and Ina, his feminine alter-ego, well altered-ego really, because she so enjoyed their time together as girls.

I had no real problems with her suggestion. Part of me had wanted, at the beginning of the project, to rid myself of all the ‘Ian-ness’ what I called the Pig within my son. And I had loved the way the girl-inside had called to him and welcomed the opportunity to reveal her aptitudes.

Most importantly, Ian had quickly realized, albeit with the benefit of the hypnotic tapes, the herbal tonics and the …………., and the undeniable pleasure of lovely clothes that there were many advantages to the feminine aspects of life.

And the benefits of this realization was the balancing one that the male aspects of life were not always for the best.

I had wanted a balanced child and now it would appear that I now had one – somewhat male and somewhat female – more balanced indeed and in deed than the majority. A solid citizen who occasionally loved dressing in pretty clothes.

- no continuation in sight - AP

If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
112 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 6039 words long.