Just Another Day.

Printer-friendly version

Just Another Day.

by

Angharad.

A Gaby fanfic.

“C’mon kiddo, get your bum in gear,” Dave called from downstairs while his sleepy offspring stumbled about upstairs trying to dress himself. He’d been doing it on his own since he was about four years old, so it seemed reasonable for his father to expect him to be able to cope in reasonable time. Obviously he wasn’t, hence a second summons from below.

It was stupid o’clock and still dark, they were racing—or rather Drew was racing, Dave was providing transport, technical and financial support and even at times catering. There was toast on the table and Drew availed himself of it and the mug of tea. He also downed a bowl of cereal as his father attached two wheeled racing device to four wheeled self powered one.

Jenny and Jules were away, so the two men of the household pulled on coats and got into the car after locking up the house. The race was at Lincoln again and last time he’d won it. They’d remember him this time—not if they saw his outfit they wouldn’t.

An hour later and half way to their destination, Dave looked over at his son or should that be daughter? “Dress in hurry, did we?”

“What?” Drew looked down at himself. Oh poo, he’d done it again. He was tired when he carried the clean laundry up to the bedrooms, he’d put the wrong stuff in the wrong rooms. He was besporting Jules’ girliest jeans, dark pink—they’d looked blue in the dark—okay he’d had his eyes closed when he pulled on his panties and sports bra then the jeans and matching top which proclaimed, ‘Girl Power’, underlined by a line of rose buds. How did he not see it? Perhaps he was colour blind—nah—it was all pink, and the jeans had sparkly bits down the seams.

“Better do something with your hair if you’re going as a girl,” was all Dave said.

Drew pulled down the sun visor and took his brush out of his handbag. Why had he brought that—the handbag? This playing with gender roles with Maddy and the others was doing his head in. Yesterday he’d been in full Gaby mode for an evening at the Peters where John usually called him Gaby whatever he was wearing.

“Got any makeup in there?” asked Dave.

“Yeah, why wanna borrow some?” joked Drew.

“No, but if you’re going girly, it might help the disguise.”

“Yeah, okay,” yawned a still sleepy Drew. Then Dave watched amazed as his son applied eye liner and mascara followed by blusher and lip gloss to transform into his younger daughter. “Better?” asked Drew squirting some perfume around his throat and wrists.

Dave shook his head more in disbelief than reply, his son had disappeared and this pretty, diminutive piece of totty had appeared in his place. Her posture changed and instead of a hunched stance which minimised her growing breasts she seemed to flaunt them and they seemed to have doubled in size since she casually shoved a hand down the neck of her top and unself-consciously adjusted them despite her dad being there.

If Dave hadn’t been there at the birth and seen the dangly bits, he’d be convinced they’d spawned two girls. Lincoln loomed and Dave steered the car towards the airfield where the race would happen.

John the chap from the Cuckney tens was there registering the entrants and he smiled at Drew as she stood waiting to sign in and pay her entrance fee. “Hello, lass, going to show these lads how to race?” Most of the queue was made up of spotty youths.

Blushing, Drew replied, “I’ll do my best.”

“Aye, we know that, good luck, lass.”

Drew walked back to change in the car pulling a towel around herself she donned her racing kit—a shirt and tights, it was quite a bit cooler than it had been and keeping thighs and knees warmed reduced cold related injuries such as pulled muscles. A tracksuit top kept the cold away as Drew slipped on her cycling shoes and clomped over to her bike which Dave was checking over again. Sometimes she wondered if he had OCD, but his thoroughness had saved her bacon a couple of times when fraying cables to brakes or gears could have caused disaster had they broken or stretched during a race.

“Remember I put new brake blocks on yesterday, so they’ll pull you up a bit sharper.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A typical teen response, implying, you fix it I’ll ride it.

Dave was aware no cheek was intended and ignored it handing the bike over to his son who looked every bit a young woman and who seemed oblivious to the boys checking out her bum which had nowhere to hide in the lycra cycling tights.

At this age, the sexes weren’t being differentiated so they could both ride in the same race, although the girls were expected to be slower, so a separate prize was awarded to the first boy and first girl. Drew had only one prize in mind—first and the twenty pounds that would bring, but he had to earn it yet.

He did a couple of circuits with another girl, yeah, he was being seen as a girl even by the other girls, who you’d think could tell a fake, but no they didn’t.

The race eventually got under way and an hour and a half later, a rather red faced and sweatier young woman was pocketing the first prize, the girl’s prize and a further prize for breaking the course record by a whole minute. She also held up the trophy, a gilt statuette of a cyclist on a racing bike. This one she got to keep.

“You showering?” asked Dave mounting the bike back on the car rack.

“Dunno, can’t use the boy’s ones can I?”

“I think your mother said they had cubicles in the ladies. Better hurry up or it’ll be too late for breakfast.”

At the mention of food, our heroine grabbed her towel and bag of clothing and found her way to the showers. Emerging from the shower cubicle but three quarter dressed Drew bumped into the girl she’d warmed up with.

“You got a brother?”

Drew blushed, “Uh yeah, why?”

“Just wondered.”

The girl pulled her hair into a ponytail, “I’m gonna get a coffee, fancy one?”

“I’ll have to ask my dad.”

“Bring him along, he can talk to my rents—did you see the bum on that boy with the blue and yellow kit?”

Drew blushed, “Was he on the Giant?”

“Didn’t notice his bike—too busy ogling his bum, think his kit in the front was probably all right too. One boy I raced against last month was hung like an...”

“I’ll go and ask my dad; where’s the coffee?”

“In the cafeteria round the front.”

“Gotcha,” said Drew dashing out to avoid more girl talk. It wasn’t like that, so direct when he was with Maddy and the others. Okay they talk about boys, well the others did, Drew didn’t other than trying to avoid them. He was still blushing when he found Dave who was securing his bike to the bike rack.

“Cor, it’s got colder, kiddo.”

“Um—wanna get a coffee? I’ll buy.” Drew hadn’t caught the other girl’s name.

“If wearing makeup makes you more generous, perhaps you should do it more often,” teased Dave hoping exactly the opposite.

“Hell, I haven’t got any on,” Drew jumped in the car and using the vanity mirror in the front passenger seat, quickly applied some. Dave almost gasped, that was even quicker than on the way up. How come his son could do it in a couple of minutes when his wife and daughter took half the day to get their faces on?

When they entered the cafeteria, one or two others nodded at Drew or exchanged congratulations, then in the queue for the refreshments he saw the other girl—the one he’d spoken to before the race and by the showers.

“It’s Gaby, isn’t it?” she said as they queued behind her.

“Yeah, and this is my dad.”

“Tiff,” she replied, “my rents are over there by the window.” To prove it she waved and they waved back. “What’s your brother’s name?”

“Andrew but everyone calls him Drew.” Drew felt in an almost surreal situation talking about himself as if he was someone else.

“Good job he didn’t come today, weren’t it?”

“We rarely race together.”

“He’s pretty good isn’t he?”

“So they say, but he tries to keep modest about it.”

Dave who was monitoring the conversation snorted at this then blew his nose and ordered some coffees. He paid despite Gaby’s offer. “Put it away, you’ll probably need more mascara or tights next week.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she grinned and Tiff also thanked him for her coffee.

They joined her parents for a very long fifteen minutes where the talk was all about anything but cycling. Tiff did try to keep up a conversation about things girl but once it drifted back to boy’s bums Drew wanted to quit the conversation and soon.

Dave eventually declared they had a long drive home and they set off.

“How’d you get on with Tiff?”

“She’s sex mad,” he piped back.

“What?”

“All she thinks about is boy’s bums.”

Dave laughed, “Well if you’re going to play at being a girl you’d better get used to it. Your mother always said she liked my bum...”

“Not you as well—oh bum.”

up
209 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Thanks Ang

Maddy Bell's picture

I want more! Oh I have to write it myself, oh bum! Not more posteriors!
Anyhoo, it made me chuckle, I reckon Tiff has her eye on Drew as some lad totty.


image7.1.jpg    

Madeline Anafrid Bell

Nice get-out "Gaby"

Podracer's picture

so that you don't end up having to introduce Tiff to Drew. Watch it though, if she rides behind often enough, she might get to thinking something look just a mite too familiar. Good job Tiff seems to live a few miles across the country, but is it far enough?
PS - reminded me of another plus for riding a 'bent.. ;)

"Reach for the sun."

This was one

Angharad's picture

I've had half written on the puter for ages, thought I'd better finish it.

Angharad

Leading from behind

Rhona McCloud's picture

I always thought the reason cyclists tuck in behind each other was a windage thing but you have destroyed my innocence.

Rhona McCloud

Thank you,Angharad,

Just like "Bike", your short stories never fail to please .

ALISON

I'm just very glad that Drew

I'm just very glad that Drew can be Gaby at a moments notice and not get any grief from anyone. Wish everyone could do that in their own lives.
And when you think about it, why not? Why not indeed.

A delightful little story.....

D. Eden's picture

And I've seen a few behinds I wouldn't mind commenting on! If you have to follow one around while riding, it never hurts to have it be cute - and attached to a nice looking man.

This was a pleasant surprise when I opened it up and started reading. Thanks for adding a little sunshine to my evening.

Dallas

D. Eden

Dum Vivimus, Vivamus

Sporting behaviour

Shouldn't he give up the girl's trophy? He still may keep hir cover by saying that since (s)he won first prize she does not need the other trophy. Otherwise it'd be cheating IMO.