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From: tigger@alices.com (Tigger)
Subject: New TG: A Losing Season 13 of 13 (Femdom(?), CD)
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A Losing Season - An Alternative Ending to Seasons of Change
Part XIII
by Tigger
Copyright 1998

Archiving and reposting of this story *unchanged* is permitted
provided that no fee be charged, either directly or indirectly
(this includes so-called "adult checks") *and* provided that
this disclaimer and attribution to the original author are
maintained intact.

Based on the characters and situations presented in "Seasons
of Change" by Joel Lawrence, Copyright 1989.  This story is
archived in its entirety at:

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Joel_Lawrence

This story represents an alternative ending to Mr. Lawrence's
story.  It is essentially a parallel universe story where
things start out the same, but follow a much different path
than the one portrayed in the original story. 

A Losing Season: Chapter 36.  The Future and Decisions, Again.

Jane looked at the woefully lonely figure sitting alone
outside in her cold, desolate, January garden. Somehow, the
man and the setting fit together, she thought sadly.  

Michael had been like this since his return from Eric's home
earlier in the month.  He had not said more than six
uninterrupted words to her at one time since he stepped off
the plane in Providence.

Well, except for that late night confrontation the day after
his return.  Jane had been sitting in the music room,
pretending to read a book, when Michael had entered the room,
obviously upset.  In very short order, both their short fuses
had flashed and a shouting match had ensued. 

Michael had demanded to know why they had kept the provisions
of his father's will from him.  Jane had responded that she
had been concerned that, after his near death, he was not
ready to know the real reasons his Mother had put him under
her care.  When he'd started down the path he chose in
retaliation, it became even more clear that he was not ready
to hear the truth that his Mother *did* in fact love him, and
regretted what she had done in trying to preserve his
inheritance.

"And just who gave you the right to make that decision for
me??  How on earth can you *ever* rationalize the fact that
you promised me honesty and gave me lies?"

Jane's tenuous grip on her composure had cracked and then
broken on that one.  "The fact that I *LOVED* you gave me that
right.  You were not ready to know the truth, mentally or
emotionally, and I was afraid *that* particular truth might
tip you over the edge again.  So, I kept the truth from you. 
When you decided to get even with your Mother, I had to keep
more from you, because I was afraid of what you might do if
you found out she was still involved in your rehabilitation."

Jane had sprung from her seat and stormed over to get nose to
nose with Michael. "Rationalize?" she'd all but screamed.  "I
don't have to rationalize.  I love you, Michael-Michelle Nash,
and I felt that, as your guardian, I had to try and find a way
to help you past the remnants of your rage against me and
against your Mother.  All right, I meant well, but the road to
hell is paved with good intentions.  Well, Michael, when I
took you to South Hampton, and then walked into that parlor
with you Mother, I went into that fiery pit by way of a four
lane super highway of my own making."

"I don't understand that kind of love." Michael had screamed
back, making the word 'love' into a four letter curse.

After her tirade, Jane had regained control. "I am sure that
you don't, Michael, but it was love nonetheless.  And I still
*do* love you, young man.  I just pray that one day, you will
be able to say that to me and to your Mother."

Michael had then stormed out of the room and up to his bed
chamber.  Except for sporadic meals, he had not come back out
for almost five days.

When he had finally left his bedroom, he had been then as he
was now.  Quiet, taciturn and moody; a man locked within
himself, or perhaps a man locked in a fight with himself.

~-----------~

Michael sat in the cold January sunlight, once again reviewing
his only extended conversation, well, screaming match, with
Aunt Jane.  Telling him that she had done it for his own good. 
Garbage, he thought, pure and simple garbage.  He asked
himself again for what had to be the thousandth time, how
could lying to someone *ever* be for the good of the one not
being told the truth.  Oh, he could understand how a lie might
be to the advantage of the person telling the untruth.  He'd
done more than a bit of that in his time.

Well, when he had kids, and he was determined he was going to
have them, if only so he could prove to his Mother, to his
Father's ghost and to himself that he could do correctly what
they had not,  *he'd* never lie to his kids.  Not ever.  He
would never convince himself that less than the truth was "in
their best interests".  

Wouldn't he?

~-------------~

The phone rang, breaking her line of thought. Jane sighed,
picked up the receiver and spoke into the phone.  

"Oh.  Hi Barb. No, nothing has really changed.  He just sits
out there and stares at my garden wall.  

"What's that? Of *course* we're keeping a close eye on him. 
*We* love him, too, you know.  I *won't* lose him again,
Barbara.

"Oh, yes, he is eating all right, as long as Maria or I drag
him to the table and threaten to hand stuff him.  

"No, his dress hasn't changed either.  He is still wearing
whatever he pulls out of the closet first, whether that is
jeans, a running suit or a dress.  He doesn't wear any
lingerie or inserts now, so he looks pretty androgynous.  Eric
thinks that is precisely how he feels, neither male nor
female, but some kludged together, imperfect combination of
both.  

"No, he hasn't said anything more about what his plans for the
future are, but I did find that boot camp brochure torn into
confetti in his room, thank god.  Nor has he mentioned St.
Andrews Academy at all. 

"Yes, he did read the codicil, but he hasn't talked about
that, either.  

"What?  No, he hasn't written in Michelle's diary, either.  

"How do I know?  I peek, of course - regularly  - but he has
not touched it since he returned from Eric's place in Chicago.
I'm at my wit's end, Barb.  I think it is time to ship him off
back to Eric in the hopes that he can help Michael where you
or I cannot.  I am feeling pretty damned useless right now.  

"Okay. I'll try to stay more positive, but it is so bloody
difficult when I see him so . . . empty day after day. Okay,
talk to you then."

Jane put the phone back in its cradle and returned to her
desk.  It was such a god-awful bloody mess.  She turned back
to her window and saw that Michael was no longer in her
garden.  Worried at this unexpected and radical change in his
recent behavior, she started for the door of her office intent
on finding him and assuring herself he was safe.  "Not
*again*.  Please, please, let him be all right," she begged
under her breath as she hurried off to find him.

She never made it out the door. 

The two of them arrived at the door of Jane's office at
precisely the same moment.  Unfortunately for Michael, Jane
was nearly at a full run.  Their collision knocked him
sprawling to the foyer floor.  "Are you all right?" she cried,
kneeling down to check him over and then help him back to his
feet.

"I'm okay." he said before repeating the reassurance as much
to convince himself as to answer her. "I'm okay.  What the
heck were you doing, Aunt Jane?"

She started at his use of 'Aunt Jane' . . . he had not called
her that since asking her if they could leave Barbara's house
that last time.  Perhaps that was why she gave him the
unvarnished truth without thinking about it.  "I lost sight of
you.  I was worried that you might . . " she stopped and then
recovered, "Well, that you might be hurt."

"You thought I might have tried to kill myself again." Michael
retorted sourly.  "I told you I am not going to do that again. 
Besides, why should you care?"

A ringing slap to the side of his head had him seeing stars,
and holding a hand to his smarting cheek.  "Because I love
you, you damned thickheaded male.  You are my masterpiece -
the one I molded into the perfect daughter in hopes of finding
a more perfect son.  Don't you *ever* insult my feelings like
that.  You may not be able to love me after what I felt I had
to do to you - hell, you may even hate me - but I'll be damned
if I will let you doubt my feelings for you.  You hear me??"

"I'm sure Maria heard you and she's off in town buying
groceries." he responded, a smile lighting his face for the
first time in more than a month.  

Before Jane could react to the smile, she found herself
wrapped in a hug, being held tightly against him.  "God, Jane,
I have been so lonely.  I love you, too."

Suddenly weak kneed, Jane carefully led him into her office
and let him sit in one of the chairs of the conversation
group.  "What's happened, Michael?  What has changed?" she
asked softly.

He gave a watery chuckle.  "That is the stupid part of it,
Aunt Jane.  Nothing *really* has.  I just had to get some
distance.  Far enough beyond the hurt, humiliation and
resentment caused by you and Mom turning the tables on me
before I could begin to remember some other, more important
things."

"Such as?"

"You fighting to save me from myself when I would have hurt
myself badly, maybe even killed myself.  Mom caning the couch
instead of my butt and telling me to scream so that my father
would think I was being "properly" punished.  You taking me to
the Mustang Ranch when we were in Nevada."

"You *would* remember that." Jane growled, averting her face
to hide her blush.

"Yup.  First times are special.  Anyway, it all sort of came
together for me today when I asked myself what I would do with
my own children if I knew something that might harm them if
they knew it.  I wanted my answer to be that, of course, I'd
always be perfectly honest with *my* kids.  Only, as I very
quickly figured out, that was a pure and simple lie.  My
honest answer, after a great deal of reflection, was that I
would lie through my teeth to protect what was mine.  *And* it
would be my responsibility to decide if and when they needed
that kind of protection."  He looked up at Jane through eyes
that no longer held the pain she'd seen for the past month. 
"Am I yours to protect, Aunt Jane?"

There were tears in her eyes as her hand slipped across the
small coffee table to squeeze his tightly. "Damned right." she
said huskily.

"Am I going to have to get out that green book for you, Aunt
Jane?" he teased.

"Why the hell not?" she said in the same tone.  Then she
became serious.  "Michael, what about Barbara?  She loves you,
too.  She has been calling me at least twice a day ever since
the night of the party."

"She's next, Jane.  Maybe we can go down there, or perhaps it
would be better if she came here?"

"Either way, although it will be easier for you to be Michael
there than it would be here.  Everyone up here in this area
still knows you as Michelle."

"That's not a problem, Aunt Jane.  Another thing I have
figured out is who *I* am.  I am both Michael and Michelle.  I
have a masculine drive and ambition that has been tempered by
a very feminine sensitivity and caring.  Mom was wrong. It's
*not* a choice.  It's not either/or.  I can and will have both
in my life because both are part of what and who I am.  When I
visit Mom down south, I can be Michael.  When I visit my other
Mom up here, I will be your Gallatea - your Michelle."

Jane's heart filled.  "Your *other* Mom?"

"It's what you are, you know." he replied as Michelle's gentle
smile softened Michael's male features.  "Barbara gave birth
to Michael, but it was you who brought Michelle into the
world.  I would say that gives you a claim to motherhood,
wouldn't you?  And all without having to go through labor. 
Such a deal, right?"

"More like going through a seven month labor, smartie." she
growled.

The peeling of the front door bell interrupted their interlude 
before Jane could take that thought any further.  "Who ever
could that be?" Jane asked disgustedly.

Michael gave her a 'how would I know?' shrug and went to the
front door.  He was astonished to find a happily grinning
Janice standing on the other side of the threshold.  She was
every bit as lovely as he remembered her, but different, too. 
Instead of the society sophisticate, this was a country girl
with her long black hair floating freely down to the small of
her back and decked out in jeans, a sweater and western boots.

"I thought I would *never* find this place.  It sure is out of
the way, but I guess Jane would need that kind of privacy,
wouldn't she. May I come in?" she asked after Michael had
stared at her for several heartbeats.

"Oh, of course." he said apologetically.  He got out of her
way, and then looked at Jane who looked as perplexed as he
felt.

The girl took one look at the older woman and offered her
hand.  "You must be Jane.  Jamie has told me so much about you
and the good things you did for him here.  He was such an
*jerk* before Mom shipped him off to you.  I liked him a whole
lot better when he came home."  Jane's mouth fell open as she
realized what the girl had said, but before she could say or
do anything, Janice had swung back to face Michael.

"Hmmmmm. . . I think you make a better girl, but you're still
pretty cute.  Maybe it's the way you are dressed - makes it
hard to tell.  Don't you have any real male clothing? Or is
Jane still keeping them locked away?"

It took quite awhile for things to calm down after Hurricane
Janice made landfall on Jane's doorstep.  The girl was a force
of nature, moving from one topic to another without seeming to
breathe, but eventually she slowed down enough for the other
two to give her monologues at least a pretense of being actual
conversations.  She really was a very sweet young woman who
had an unswerving sense of purpose, as Jane and Michael
discovered when the three of them were sitting around Maria's
kitchen table enjoying a light tea.  

"So, anyway, I finally wormed the whole story out of Jamie -
he can't keep anything from me that I really want to know. 
You trained him very well, Jane.  So, then I figured out why
everyone had been moping around since the party and weren't
happily anticipating the wedding.  Your Mom is a lovely lady,
Michael, you are so lucky to have her.  But anyway, I figured
something had to be done, so here I am."

Dizzy from trying to keep up with her rapid-fire changes of
subject, Michael managed to lock onto the last thing she said. 
"So here you are. . .why?"

Janice looked at him as if he were somehow mentally deficient
before tossing a commiserating look at Jane.  Jane did not
have any better idea what the girl was getting at, but nodded
sagely at her anyway.  "Silly. To get you to come to her
wedding, of course.  So she will know you've forgiven her and
that you aren't going to anything so stupid as go to that hell
hole boot camp thing she told you about."

"When is the wedding?" he asked.

"Saturday after next, Michael, on Valentine's Day."

"Are we going to the wedding, Aunt Jane?" Michael asked with a
twinkle in his eye.

"I suspect we are, Michael."

"There's just one more little thing." Janice said with the air
of someone who is about to solve a huge problem.

"Okay, give, but just remember I have been manipulated by
experts in the past months."

"As if I would try." Janice's nose went into the air and she
gave a very unladylike snort.  "It's just that one of your
Mother's attendants broke her leg - she insists on going to
Aspen every Christmas even though she is the worst klutz - and
since everyone at the party has already *met* Michelle.  Why,
that means you might be discovered if you tried to attend as
Michael, so I was just thinking that it might be a wonderful
surprise if you were to take my place as her substitute
attendant.  As Michelle, of course." she added quickly.

Michael wondered how she could say so much, so quickly and not
run her words together.  He found her. . . fascinating.  "Oh,
of course." Michael agreed laconically.  "But she strongly
implied that she would prefer me to live full time as a guy."
he teased, winking at Jane since he'd already told her how he
planned to live his life.

"Oh pooh.  She had to say that because she had you as a son. 
I don't think she'd mind in the least.  Besides. . ." she
trailed off.

"Besides. .? " Michael prompted, thoroughly enchanted and
already half in love with this vivacious girl.

"Then she'd know you have really, really forgiven her for what
she had to do to you . . . to help you become a better
person." she looked at him entreatingly.  Then she got a
mischievous grin on her face.  "And, I am almost positive that
Michelle would fit perfectly into my bridesmaid dress - I
really regret that part of this because it is really a great
dress, but hey, I really like your Mom and this will make her
very happy."

"Welllllll. . ." Michael drawled before slipping into
Michelle's voice.  "I really have to see the dress first,
darling.  I was not very impressed by that *shroud* you were
wearing at the party.  Didn't do a *thing* for you."

Both women simply stared at him, and then burst out laughing
with him.  Janice recovered first.  "Meeee-ooowww, you nasty
cat.  I will have you know that *shroud* was chosen by my
Mother who wants me to be eternally thirteen years old. 
Something about she can't grow old if I don't grow up, I
guess." she said disgustedly.  "*YOUR* Mom picked this one out
and she has much better taste."  Then she jumped up from the
table.  "It's in the car.  I'll get it while you . . .do
whatever it is you do to become Michelle."  

Michael and Jane just shook their heads as she rushed off. 
"So, my son and daughter," Jane asked, "Are you going to do
it?"

Michael frowned as he considered the possible benefits along
with the potential dangers of Janice's plan.  "You don't think
it will hurt her?  Mom, I mean?"

It really had worked, Jane thought.  He is thinking of others
now as well as himself.  Even *before* he thinks of himself. 
"I think Janice is right.  She'll love it.  She might cry a
bit, but those tears will be the happy kind."

Nodding his understanding, Michael grinned broadly before
saying airily.  "Then I guess I better go do whatever it is
that I do, eh?"

~-----------~

"Where is that girl?" a silver haired woman asked to the room. 
"She knows the procession is supposed to start in five
minutes."

"She said she'd had too much to drink and needed to go to the
bathroom or she'd never make it down the aisle."  Barbara said
with a grin on her face.  "She'll be back.  It just takes
awhile to get through all this frou-frou when nature calls."

The matron harrumphed at that.  "Silly girl should have seen
to it before she got dressed.  And *you* were the one who
insisted on real period lingerie to go with these dresses."

Just then, there was a commotion as a someone entered the room
wearing Janice's dress, only it wasn't Janice. "I hope I
haven't held you up." came a strangely familiar voice. 

Barbara turned and saw first the blonde locks done up in a set
of old style ringlets that went beautifully with the Victorian
style gowns Barbara had chosen for her second wedding.  "And
just who might you be, young lady?" furiously demanded the
same silver haired woman.

And then Barbara knew. "Michelle?" she whispered, not quite
willing to believe her eyes.  And then she found her child in
her arms, hugging her close.  

"Hi, Mom. Just couldn't wait to get me back into petticoats,
could you?" Michael teasingly whispered for her ears alone
before pulling back and saying in Michelle's voice.  "Hi, Aunt
Barbara.  Janice and I thought we'd surprise you since I was
able to get away for your wedding after all.  And don't worry,
Janice has been drilling me on my part in all this.  I'll do
just fine."

Barbara pulled her son/daughter close again and whispered. 
"Thank you.  Now my day is perfect." before also adding aloud. 
"I think you'll do more that just fine, darling . . . I think
you'll be just perfect." 

The End and a New Beginning


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