- Content warnings -
[ minor references to suicidal thoughts ] :: [ homophobic and transphobic slurs ] :: [ minor strong language]
Chapter 1: A Sister's Suggestion
.+:｡(✿ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ:・ﾟ✧
Almost two years had passed since my sister discovered my secret. In that time, my life had radically changed. For the better in some places, for the worse in others. For starters, I'd graduated from high school as a remarkably average student. I could have gotten better grades, maybe even graduated top of the class and gotten a scholarship if I could have just given a damn at that point. Unfortunately, leaving that chapter of my life behind meant leaving pretty much all of my friends behind, too. Very few intended to stay in the sleepy countryside village of Rosewater Falls, like I did. Without seeing each other from time to time, well... people just kinda fade away, don't they? A lack of social contact didn't do wonders for my mental health, that's for sure.
With school behind me and many nasty conversations -- no, one-sided arguments -- with my dad about what I was going to do with my life, I did eventually find a job outside of the family business. I was an inventory manager at the Rosewater Falls Outfitters Club's assembly workshop, a company that specializes in the manufacture of all sorts of outdoor gear for Pokémon trainers, be they seasoned veterans or complete novices. I admit, it wasn't my ideal job; lots of long days, lots of heavy lifting, and
dear god did it get hot in that warehouse, especially along the top shelves. But I guess it paid the bills. More importantly, I got an employee discount, which made the usually expensive responsibility of Pokémon ownership actually affordable.
Oh yeah. I kinda started following in the footsteps of Catherine and became a Pokémon trainer myself -- nowhere as dedicated as her, mind you. I just didn't have the time, nor did I have the skill to turn it into an actual career like she did. That started on my eighteenth birthday, when my uncle gifted me a Veggiescamp. Honestly, I think he caught that on his farm one day and just couldn't bring himself to take it out back and wring its neck, despite how many of his crops it destroyed. But I'm glad he didn't, because with enough patience and training, those rabbit-like creatures stop indiscriminantly destroying farmland and turn into the fuzziest, cuddliest little buddies. With even more patience and training -- more than I'm capable of putting in -- you can even turn them into actual farmhands. The farmer life isn't for me, though.
Speaking of Catherine, she was decently well known at that point. She'd taken part in tournaments,
beaten up kids for their lunch money, been featured in at least two magazines that I knew of, participated in a gym battle on national television, and earned six of her eight badges in the Rose League. People thought she was a rising superstar since she accomplished a lot of that earlier than most trainers do, but to be honest, she's plateaued in her skills; she just can't seem to take down the Greybell Cousins, a stumbling block that most people reach. Whatever, though! She's more skilled than I'd ever hope to be, and I'm proud of her.
But this is my story, so! She's an important part of my life and an unshakeable pillar of support, but also kinda beside the point. In that couple years, I'd never given up the crossdressing hobby -- though I continued it in secret of course. Every now and then I'd send a selfie to Catherine, showing off a new top or a new skirt or something cute I found online -- if I managed to find something that actually fit! She'd always roar with encouragement. She said that my experimentation was doing me more good than I realized, and after awhile I started to believe her. I was happier, I was more confident, I had more energy... Hell, I was even taking pictures of myself. I
never did that. Surely, with all those benefits, it was actually
healthy for me in some way, right? Rather than 'evil' and 'depraved' as I had been taught to believe when I was growing up.
Speaking of encouragement, she suggested that I grow my hair out, too. I was skeptical of it at first and fought her every time she suggested it, mostly because I was extremely worried what dad would think. Eventually, I tried it, and... yeah, he wasn't happy. He saw it as a threat to my masculinity, and just couldn't accept that his son wanted long hair. He'd frequently hurl abuse at me, calling me a pansy, a faggot, a girl, all because I was trying something new. All because I was doing something that was ultimately harmless -- how does long hair hurt anyone?
Mom wasn't a fan at first, either. She's sense gotten on board, but she originally thought I'd be inviting trouble by wearing my hair long. I can't entirely fault her, she's super paranoid about everything, but... the idea that people would corner me in the street and beat me senseless because I had long hair just didn't seem real or even reasonable. Plenty of guys have long hair and get away with it, no troubles at all. I dread to think of how she'll react if my crossdressing secret ever gets out -- probably "You'll be killed by a roaming hate mob!" -- despite the fact that I never left my bedroom while dressed like that, and never dreamed to dare trying it.
I was also worried about my hair affecting my job, too, and my boss rode my ass about it for a few months. He was never rude about it, which I'm thankful for. At the start, he encouraged me to keep it short for the customers -- customers I only ever saw when the planets aligned, when someone physically came into the workshop for warranty repairs. After I explained to him that I never really saw the customers -- it wasn't even my responsibility within the company -- and that was a poor excuse, he then said it could be a safety hazard if I went onto the assembly floor. I could get it trapped in the whirring machines that made the Pokéball casings. While true, I explained that I never go over there, and those machines are in a room I have no reason to ever enter. Eventually he relented and let me keep it whatever length I wanted -- he even started to compliment it after it grew past that scruffy "is he just a lazy bum?" phase. That was a nice boost to my self-esteem!
Well, I guess that's the rundown on what the past two years were like. I wish I had more to say, but my life has been pretty boring... Guess I shouldn't complain, life could have been a lot worse.
.+:｡(✿ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ:・ﾟ✧
I was about ready to fall over. I'd just finished a twelve hour shift, rushing and working my ass off to push products out the door to satisfy my company's owner's endless lust for money -- money I was barely going to see, because the workers who earn the company all those glittering golden roses just aren't entitled to a single one of them. How dare they think they are? It really put into perspective why so many people flirt with becoming competitive Pokémon trainers before settling into 'real' jobs once they realize how insanely difficult it is to succeed.
It was one of those days where I was so tired and sore that I was tempted to skip the long trip home and make the shorter walk to my sister's place instead. I did that every now and then to keep an eye on the place for her while she was out of town, but I mostly visited just to avoid going home... such a depressing place. With her out of town most of the time, her place was basically mine, a sanctuary from all the bullshit at home.
As I walked down the street and up to her house, I spotted a Staravia perched upon the peak of the roof. I wasn't much of a bird nerd, but I did know that they were almost never seen in this part of the country, so it was most likely my sister's prized 'birbie buddy', Dolly. If Dolly were here, that meant she was here too. I stepped up onto the porch, grabbed the door handle and gave it a twist -- it was unlocked. She could have sent me a message saying she'd be back in town! But maybe she wanted it to be a secret... She's not had the best relationship with our parents since moving out, either.
"Catherine? You in?" I asked.
"Nick? That you?" her voice called from the kitchen.
"Yeah. Sorry for dropping by unannounced."
Her head peered out of the kitchen doorway and had a wide smile on it. "Nonsense, nonsense! You're welcome whenever!"
I joined her in the kitchen. The room smelled of freshly chopped strawberries, and a hint of lemon lingered in the air. Her Cyndaquil, Cyndy, was curled up on the counter next to the basket of strawberries, happily nibbling away on one.
"Hungry? I found some wild strawberries while I was on my way back to town the other day."
I grabbed one of the diminutive berries and popped it into my mouth. The tart blast of flavor instantly swept me away with feelings of nostalgia for simpler times, when I didn't have to worry over just about every god damn thing in my life. Times where I could sit under a tree, enjoy a glass of lemonade and watch the clouds go by.
As I grabbed another strawberry, she said, "Oh! You're painting your nails now?"
I flipped my other hand and looked at the alternating metallic silver and patriotic green that covered my nails. "Sometimes. Thanks for reminding me, I gotta take it off before I go home."
"Let me guess, dad?"
"Mhmm."
"Really, out of all the things you could be doing, he gets mad at that... I've given up trying to understand him."
"Yup."
"You're not a drug addict, you're not a criminal, you're not a flunky with five kids by different women... He should be grateful the worst you do is paint your nails and dress up." As I turned around to grab a glass out of the cabinet, I felt her grab my long ponytail and give it a light tug. "Wow! It's even better looking in person!"
"Ha, right. It's a mess, I kinda hate it. Such a bitch to keep healthy, and it's not really growing any longer."
"Hey, you're doing a better job than me!" she commented, running her fingers through her own ragged and substantially shorter hair. "It looks like you can finally teach me a thing or two."
"Well, it helps to not camp outside five days a week like a feral woman," I snarked. "Ugh, you mind if I grab a shower here? It's been a long and hot fucking day."
"By all means."
.+:｡(✿ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ:・ﾟ✧
One thing about being in the closet that I never liked was not knowing if I was weird for enjoying my fashion hobby. Covering myself up in delicate fabrics, bright-yet-muted colors and flowery designs -- not necessarily covered in flowers, but flowery nonetheless -- spoke to me on a deep level. A level so deep that I couldn't even understand it sometimes. They were just synthetic fibers at the end of the day, spun on industrial looms into mass-produced, aesthetically pleasing patterns that were more often than not created in sweatshops in the farthest corners of the world. Why was it such a guilty pleasure? Why did it bring me happiness more than any of my other hobbies, far more so?
That's what made it weird, I told myself.
But weird or not, I still enjoyed it, and getting dressed up after work was my favorite tradition whenever I swung by Cat's place instead of going home. Freshly showered and looking forward to a lengthy holiday weekend, I wanted something comfy and cozy, rather than over the top and complicated. I dug through my growing collection -- a collection that was probably larger than Catherine's by that point -- and settled on a white blouse, a knee lengthy pastel yellow shirt and an apricot-colored sweater, rounded off by white stockings. I looked like I'd just stepped out of the 1960s, and it was glorious! Just as I had years before, I couldn't help but stare into my reflection as I fixed up my damp hair. I couldn't help but think... if only she were real, and not just some ogre-like dude in drag.
I went back downstairs to see whether Catherine was still home, and if so, what she was up to. As I descended the small set of steps into the half-basement den, she looked up at me.
"Oh my god, look at you!" she said reassuringly. She reached for her phone and held it to her ear. "Hello, officer? There's a cute stranger in my house."
"Shut up. You're just saying that, I'm not really cute."
"Cute," she repeated, in a more forceful yet still playful tone. She looked me up and down and nodded. "Love the colors! You always did have a soft spot Autumn, didn't you?"
"Mhmm."
Her eyes dropped to the floor and fixated on my boots. "Still got those junkyard boots, though? Hey! I'll be in town for awhile, you want me to take you shoe shopping this weekend?"
"Oh, umm... Maybe? I know my boots don't match pretty much anything I have, but I never thought about... you know, 'girl' shoes?"
"If you want to complete that look, a good pair of shoes ties everything together," she said authoritatively. "...I think? I'll be honest, you're better at the fashion game than I am at this point, but those boots have got to go."
"What would you suggest, then?" I asked.
"I dunno, let's experiment!"
"Please don't say high heels, I can't imagine walking in those." I could imagine breaking my ankles in them, though. I remember seeing a fashion model
wobble down the catwalk in them once, and it completely turned me off the idea of heels forever.
"Heels can go fuck themselves. I was thinking something like... Mary Janes. Or if you'd like something comfy to wear to work, how about some running shoes? Or maybe we'll find something different if we have a look! What do you say?"
"We could try." I was a little skeptical of the idea, since until that point, all of my clothes shopping had been online and mostly anonymous. But she was right, I needed new boots -- those junkyard stompers had been with me since the day my feet stopped growing, it felt like, and though they'd served me well, they were falling apart at the seams. I'd patched them up with leather squares, glued the soles back on I don't know how many times and replaced the laces with bubblegum pink... Poor things. If I could have gotten something 'girly' as a replacement, though, I'd have been pretty happy.
It was nice to have her home. Outside of my parents, who I was growing further and further apart from, and my co-workers who typically excluded quiet old me from their conversations, she was basically the extent of social life, and it felt good to
talk for a change, rather than smash away at a keyboard. We talked about all sorts of things. We floated the idea of catching a ferry to the nearby city of Loch Alstan, which had more than our village's singular shoe shop. She talked about her experiences on the road, most of which were far more interesting than my own experiences at work. No one could ever convince me that putting together a six pack of Pokéballs in shitty plastic packaging for minimum wage will ever match up to the excitement of tracking down an Onix in the Rustlode foothills.
She also talked about her concerns about reaching a plateau in her career as a competitive Pokémon trainer. She always told me that there were no rear-view mirrors on a rocket ship, and that's exactly what her career looked like at the start. Four badges by the end of her first year in the Rose League, which while not unheard of, was definitely not the norm. But her successes slowed, and after sweeping up two more badges in the next two months, she hit the brick wall known as the Greybell Cousins -- Princess Tania and Duchess Imogen of the royal family. Despite her best efforts, at least a dozen attempts each to take both down, and eight months since earning her last badge, she felt like it was close to being over. The rocket ship had run out of fuel and was starting its burning descent back into the atmosphere.
She explained the sexism inherent in the League, too. There are some talented women out there in the field of competitive training -- Nicole Spencer, Britnee Bayton and Sarah Greenbriar, to name the three that I knew of -- but they just aren't taken as seriously as the boys. Nicole was the one that most people were familiar with, and she too was what Catherine described as a rocket ship. An even better one. All eight badges of the Rose League, notoriously one of the hardest leagues to compete in across the whole world, earned in just under a year. A 13 wins and 1 loss record at the various tournaments hosted throughout the kingdom. Yet apparently her achievements were not as impressive or newsworthy as those of Nigel Lancaster -- pet named the 'Golden Lion' -- who took almost twice as long as Nicole and had mediocre showings in the tournaments.
"Competitive training has definitely become more accessible for women," she said, "But it's just... brick wall aside, I just don't feel like I've got a fair future in this career. I'm more successful than half of the guys, but... No one cares. So I've been looking at other stuff... Coordination is much more friendly to women and it's growing in popularity. It's still not as popular as competitive training, but I've been thinking of making the switch."
I didn't understand the sport of Pokémon Coordination much. What little I did know amounted to gorgeous women dressing like princesses, dancing and singing songs as their Pokémon... did...
stuff.
As she began to explain what it is, it turned out my limited understanding was at least partially correct. It was mostly gorgeous women, but they didn't necessarily dress up like princesses; she showed me images of a girl named Senna who dressed up like an Iron Union general, another named Reina who dressed in a manner that made me think of tropical birds, and then another named Angelina, who wore a tailored pinstripe suit that made her look like some sort of mafia capo. The dancing or singing seemed to be up to whoever was competing; some sang, some danced, others worked themselves into their Pokémon's showmanship routines and a few didn't participate at all, instead looking like beautiful works of art in the background.
When I asked her what kind of plans she had if she switched the being a full time coordinator, she admitted she didn't have much of one yet. She didn't plan on painting herself into a corner with a singular gimmick like most other coordinators seem to do, but she already had two themes in mind:
Her first theme was 'fire priestess', which would be complimented by her Ninetails, Coalossal and newly acquired Cyndaquil. She had grand plans of learning to juggle flaming batons while dancing around, until I reminded her that she had the grace and motor skills of a deer trapped on ice. "Maybe you're right. If I'm going to pull something like that off, I'd need something flowy and majestic to wear, sorta like elven robes... But there's an event I want to participate in at the start of next month, and I don't know if I could get a costume like that done in time..."
Her other theme was 'summer island gal', which would rely on her Wingull, her Starmie and her Corphish. She already had an outfit picked for it: "Basically, it wouldn't require much effort, and I wouldn't have to spend much. I already run around in denim shorts and a tank top, and wear a big floppy sunhat. Short of a bikini -- which I am
not wearing on stage -- what's more beach babe than that?"
-- You might be wondering, is this all she's got? That would explain why she's hit a wall in her training, right? Well, no. She has a
massive amount of Pokémon at her finger tips, 47 last I heard, most of which she's used either during her challenge of the Rose League or across the tournaments she's participated in. So she's not some dope who uses fire and water exclusively, hoping to cruise down easy street and land herself in the history books. She says her large collection is why she was so successful as a trainer from the start, being able to account for her opponents' weaknesses. But I also get the feeling it's why she's plateaued; she hasn't had the ability to focus her training in the right areas to defeat the two toughest trainers in the league, and it might be a long time before she's truly ready. --
I suggested a third alternative, capitalizing on her Haunter, her Dusknoir and her Honchkrow; why not a goth outfit? I admit, I mostly wanted to see it because she was kind of adorable when she used to dress like that during her formative years, and not because I thought it was a winning theme. Just as well, she wasn't into the idea. "Nah, come on. High school ended a long time ago for me. I can't go back to dressing like that again. There's another girl who does that stuff, anyways. I don't want to step on her territory."
As we talked about things, I could sense there was something gnawing away at her. She seemed like she wanted to make some sort of big announcement, but was having trouble saying it. Surely whatever she was trying to say couldn't match up to the fact that she had basically already announced that she was hanging it up as a competitive trainer in favor of focusing on coordination full time -- giving up on her childhood dream -- whether she directly admitted it or not.
I was wrong.
"So umm, since I've got you here, and you're all dolled up and happy, I wanted to ask you a -- a strange question..." she started, with a cautious tone to her voice. "I want you to know that there's absolutely no pressure, and you don't have to say yes."
Oh my god. What was she about to ask me? I stared at her blankly, silently, waiting for her to continue.
"Would you like to take your girly girl routine a little more seriously?"
Despite getting the question, I stared blankly for a few more seconds. "...how do you mean?"
"Well. The convention center in Loch Alstan is hosting a girls-only Pokémon coordination event at the start of next month, and I thought... it might be fun to... participate together. You know, as... sisters."
"Woah, woah, woooooohohohohoah. Hold on a minute. No, hold on an hour. You want
me to... to..." It didn't happen often, but I had actually been rendered speechless. A constant string of gibberish fell out of my mouth as I stumbled over my words and tried to figure out how to respond, but I simply couldn't. I eventually gave up and bowed my head in her direction, prompting her to speak up again.
"O-oh, did I touch a raw nerve or something? I'm sorry."
"Not really. It's just... that's a huge thing to ask. This girly girl routine is... I wouldn't even call it a 'girly girl' routine, just the hobby of some weird socially broken dude. It's just me seeking comfort, you know?" I answered. "Besides... surely you must know, like, a
real girl who could do it, instead of me."
"Well, Julie's canceling on me because something more important came up, and Paige just flat out isn't interested. I figured I'd have a better shot with someone I know than pair up with some stranger who'll hold me back."
"I think you're picking the wrong person. Putting the fact that I'm a boy aside, I'm not really... much of a Pokémon trainer. I've not really taught them any flashy moves, so I'd be the one to hold you back."
"Come on, Nick, you know me better than that! I'm never about winning, it's always the fun and the learning that are important. Don't you think it'd be fun to dress up and go out for once?"
Dressing up and going out... it'd been on my mind, sure. But to actually get on stage while wearing that stuff? Be subject to so much scrutiny and attention? Holy hell, I was starting to feel an anxiety attack settle in just thinking about it.
"I mean, I've thought about it, but... I dunno," I started. "Whether you want to win or not, I'd be just a dude in drag. People'd spot me a mile away."
"Don't sell yourself so short. You're getting really good at the makeup! Your color coordination is spot on, too! Put on a padded bra and let your hair down and I think you'd blend in pretty well."
"You really think so?" I asked. In all that time, I never really thought about my crossdressing as a skill that I was getting better at, but I guess it made sense? Practice at something long enough and you'll get good at it, even the simple act of putting on clothes. "I dunno, though... there's a lot that'll put me out there, isn't there? What about my voice? And don't I need an ID to sign up? I can't just use my trainer's license..."
"There's... obstacles to your participation, yeah, but... We've got a month to figure it out, if you're interested?"
"I dunno... Maybe? I'll have to think about it."
Part of me didn't want to involve myself in her plans, but I couldn't help but leave the door open; the idea, as crazy terrifying as it was, spoke to me on a primal level. That, and Catherine had been there for me through thick and thin over the past couple years -- she'd taken my side in arguments with our parents, she'd helped me through some pretty serious depression of the suicidal variety -- and on the subject at hand, she'd helped me more than I could repay. She encouraged me. She shared tips. She showed me colors, fabrics, designs, styles... all in the interests of making me happy, and feel like less of a freak. Getting on stage with her seemed impossible, but it was my turn to help her. Maybe it could be done... But I had to learn to crawl before I could learn to walk. Baby steps.
"It might be fun just to go out dressed up like this, without having to worry about performing in a contest. Could we try that first?"
She nodded excitedly. "Oh, yeah! It'd probably be a good idea to see if you can keep your nerve out in public first, before the spotlight gets put on you."
"Heh, yeah... I'm not good with public attention I guess."
"Neither was I when I first started, Nick. You've gotta ignore it at first, but... Well, I won't lie, it's a long process to work up your nerves, but it's possible. Baby steps."
Sigh. Took the words right out of my mouth, like usual. Sometimes it felt like she was a mind reader.
"That's what I'm thinking..." I started. "So when do you want to try this?"
"That's up to you! I figure this weekend would be a good time to try, actually. We'll be in Loch Alstan looking for your new shoes, why not try there? That way no one recognizes you."
"Umm. Maybe. I'll have to... Mmm... I dunno. Just thinking about it is making me nervous."
"That's fair. Just remember that I'll 100% be there to support you if you start feeling overwhelmed, and I can chase off anyone who might give you trouble over it."
"We can try it. But if I start to get nervous, I have the right to call it off."
"Of course!"
