Bree the Boyless Wonder: The Babysitters, Part 1

by handheld

In this first part, Brenda muses over how she became "Ben". Then her lover Alicia tries to soften Brenda up. She really wants a chance to watch over little Bree at night while her mommy is at work.

"So it's a pretty big jump in pay, but you'd be moving into a new wing, a new department, different expectations and duties and all that. We only want RN's who've had at least a year here with us so far, with a very solid recommendation from a charge nurse and the unit's care plan facilitator. Plus, of course, it'll be 10-hour nights – that's the minimum – and there could be times when you're coming in for two weeks straight without a day off. It just depends on our census. Remember, ladies: that's the whole point of combining two positions. Sometimes it'll be great because one person's only needed like four-to-five nights per week, but there could be some times when you really are coming in every night. Anyway, we're posting it internally for thirty days before putting it on the web si...."

Brenda turned her attention once again to her phone, tuning out the hospital's head of nursing as she went on and on about the reconstituted neonatalogy position. It was a nurse's nightmare, at least as far as Brenda was concerned, and she has absolutely no interest in it. Who wanted to sit around staring at incubator thermometers and squirmy, squally, tiny babies all night long? Babies – and children in general – absolutely horrified Brenda. She tried to avoid them at all times. It was why she'd been in the gerontology department for sixteen straight years, and she planned on staying there until the day she retired.

She suddenly found herself thinking of Alicia, and she frowned, stabbing at her phone's screen a little harder. Alicia liked kids. Alicia talked about insemination, about adoption, even about fostering. So far Brenda had argued successfully against such insanity, but she assumed her younger lover's biological clock was ticking ever more loudly. It would soon be the thing that broke them up. Brenda was sure of it.

She herself had never felt even the slightest urge toward motherhood, and sometimes Brenda couldn't help but wonder if it had to do with how masculine she'd always been. Since childhood, she had put on muscle easily and much more obviously than other girls. Her shoulders were broader, her neck thicker. Her adam's apple in puberty was monstrous, a nearly constant source of teasing agony; even now, at thirty nine, it was every bit as noticeable as any man's. She'd started her periods just before turning eleven; they came sporadically, heavily, painfully, but it's not like that made any difference. Her ass didn't round out. Her hips didn't flair. Her breasts barely even thought about showing up.

Brenda's parents had taken her to doctors in Minnesota, of all places, to figure out if her glands were messed up. But, other than a significantly larger-than-average clitoris, the doctors all said she was a relatively normal female, just high on the testosterone side of things, with her early period problems an anomaly in the face of that which they simply couldn't explain. They made recommendations about getting Brenda on hormone therapy if the problems proved to be socially crippling, but in the end the doctors – and Brenda's parents, reluctantly – had left her free to decide about that.

Brenda chose, the summer before entering middle school, not to become dependent on drugs for the rest of her life. Instead, she decided she simply wanted to live as a boy.

Upon declaring that decision, her parents immediately sent her to a psychologist, then another, then a couple of psychiatrists. Their recommendations were as varied and as absurd as could be expected – from suggestions of gender reassignment surgery to a recommendation for living in a group home with juvenile sexual deviants. The prescriptions that were written out for her simply got tossed in the trash. Brenda already knew what would fix her problem, and it had nothing to do with pills.

Only one shrink thought she'd be OK doing exactly what what wanted to do – which was to simply dress, act, and be a boy in the world. The hardest parts – urinating while standing up and discretely changing in and out for PE – were things she knew she could figure out. The rest was just dressing and acting, and Brenda knew she could pull that off to perfection. But her parents weren't so sure. They finally had a huge blow-up with Brenda over it. She ran away from home and moved in with the psychiatrist. After considerable legal back-and-forth, her parents signed over guardianship to Dr. Bodson, and Brenda embarked upon her remaining years of middle school in a new school district as a freshly-minted boy named Ben.

Of course, neither Brenda nor her parents realized that Dr. Bodson was a very feminine but extremely predatory lesbian; but by the time Brenda figured that out, she was happy to dive right into the depravity. She'd always preferred girls over boys, so once she'd begun living as a boy she was able to let all that lust out naturally, in plain sight, and no one thought it was strange at all. She was just another boy ogling the girls in the lunch line. Just another boy nudging his fellows with an elbow and directing their eyes toward the cheerleaders and their high-kicking, tight-bloomered glory. At her new home, meanwhile, Ben the boy quickly learned all about how Brenda the lesbian should love and serve her protector and benefactor.

"Ben? Do you mind? Ben?" Brenda's head finally shot up, her reverie shattered, her phone quickly disappearing in the pocket of her scrubs. The head of nursing was frowning at her, the red dot from her laser pointer skittering accusingly over the spot where the offending device was hidden. "You know the policy about phones in meetings, Ben. Come on."

"Um, sorry," Brenda muttered, briefly purpling with embarrassment and anger. Fucking bitch. Being one of less than ten male nurses in the hospital made Brenda stand out anyway, and it didn't help that the other women considered him to be extremely handsome and flirt-worthy. It did, however, often get him off the hook for a lot of things, especially if he smiled his brightest and simply apologized, which was of course what he did just then. "My bad, Janice! My bad! Please continue."

Janice, nearly sixty, fat, and asthmatic, wheezed at him for a moment in consternation, then blinked and smiled pleasantly at the rest of the nurses assembled, as if to say, "Aw, it's just our Ben!" Then she turned and went back to her stupid agenda, while Ben pondered the problem with Alicia.

Alicia was five years younger, absolutely gorgeous, perfectly feminine. No one knew she was a completely closeted lesbian. Brenda had been the first man Alicia had ever been physically attracted to, much to her own confusion, but once Alicia learned that Ben was really not the boy she'd lusted after, their future got real solid real fast. They dated for just a month before moving in together. They'd been sharing a house for almost ten years now, and Brenda couldn't imagine a happier life. Except for the baby thing. For the past year Alicia had been bringing it up more and more regularly. Brenda was going to have to figure something out.

And then Annette showed up.

Two days after the meeting, Brenda was nearing the end of her shift when she got a text from Alicia, who happened to be off that day: "get home quick i got a big surprise". And so Brenda did. Big surprises usually meant new sex toys had arrived in the mail, or new videos, or Alicia had scored great seats to some concert or secured an invite to a girls-only orgy out of town. Alicia's big surprises were always good, always fun, and always related to fantastic orgasms, so Brenda dutifully cut out of work exactly on time and blasted her Ducati straightaway home.

She found Annette Myers sitting with Alicia in their kitchen, drinking martinis. Brenda was confused. Annette Myers was possibly the most heterosexual woman she'd ever met. Annette was an RN in the ICU, and neither Alicia nor Brenda really knew her all that well, outside of a few interdepartmental holiday parties and a couple of rather random group dinners out. However, the whole hospital knew about Annette's ex-husband, Dave, and his huge cock. Her ex had apparently been very well-endowed and extremely gifted with his manhood. Now that they'd been divorced for nearly a year, Annette hardly passed up a chance to tell other women about how much she missed her drug-addicted ex's magical tool. Annette, in fact, had become rather infamous behind her own back because she couldn't seem to help but complain about the loss of her ex's magnificent penis. It was like a compulsion she could not control. Whenever nurses went out for drinks or got together for parties on the weekends, sooner or later Annette would start up the "oh, how I miss his dick" monologue, which of course got really old really fast.

The first thing Brenda heard when she entered the house was Annette's voice: "...so lucky to have Ben around. There's nothing better than a man... I mean, you know...." and then a burst of giggles. Brenda stepped into the kitchen as the giggling subsided, doing her best "embarrassed male" act.

"Argh! Women and their sex talk! I'm outta here!" She yanked two beers out of the fridge in mock horror and tried to shoot Alicia her best wtf? look. She got three steps toward the back of the house before Alicia managed to get up and catch her by the arm.

"No, wait, Ben! Annette's not here to talk about that kind of stuff. I need you to listen to what she has to say. Please?" Brenda looked down into Alicia's huge eyes and melted. She found herself easily tugged back to the kitchen table, sitting down, and taking a long, studied pull on her Sam Adams.

Annette cleared her throat and somewhat disconsolately shrugged, "Sorry, Ben. Guess I'm a little... obsessed." She looked between Brenda and Alicia, then back to Brenda, then at her drink, getting herself back together. Brenda took another swig of her beer and checked Annette out. She certainly liked Annette as a physical specimen – she was tall and curvy and very fit at thirty-five, a woman who clearly took pride in maintaining her figure and attracting men. It was all the cock-crazy stuff going on inside her blonde head that turned Brenda off, though. Such a shame to waste a fine woman like that to nothing but men for an entire life.

"Ben," Alicia began, breaking the silence as Annette finished off her martini and composed herself. "Annette needs some help with her daughter."

Brenda frowned and broke off her ogling. She stared hard at Alicia, who was trying very hard not to smile. Daughter?

"Yes, well, here's what's going on," Annette broke in, back on her game. "I asked about that job in neonatal, and they're going to give it to me. The pay is a gigantic raise for me, and I might finally be able to start saving some money and get our lives back on track. Problem is, though, it's nights, it's not a lot of days off, and I've got a daughter with nobody to watch her. My parents and my brother and sister all live out of state. My husband is, obviously, not capable. His parents are the worst trailer trash you've ever seen, and his sister is a prostitute and a drug addict. That's how he got the fucking meth to begin with, you know? And she's pregnant now, too. Big surprise how that happened."

Annette went on and on about her fucked-up circumstances and the chance she wanted to grab with the new position at the hospital. Brenda could feel Alicia staring at her face. She knew her color was rising. This was bad. This was really bad.

"So, anyway, one of the girls in ICU said you and Alicia were considering adopting or fostering or something. I thought maybe you might be interested in something sort-of close. Like kind of deep-immersion babysitting, I guess...." Annette chuckled nervously at that, then batted her eyelashes at Ben's reddening face. The look hit him hard, but he didn't just cave.

"What? Alicia?" Brenda turned to her lover in shock and rising anger. "You've been talking about the kid thing with your co-workers? How is that any of their business?!"

Alicia came out of her chair and flew into Brenda's lap, throwing her arms around her neck and nuzzling, pleading. "I'm so sorry, Ben! I just can't help it sometimes. You know how much I want a kid!"

Annette, uncomfortable, cleared her throat and pushed back from the table. "Listen, I don't want to cause a problem. Really. I'll just go."

Alicia squeaked and buried her face into Brenda's shoulder. Brenda felt hot tears seeping through her shirt. A lump rose in her throat. To her own horror, she found herself asking Annette to sit back down. To stay.

"How old is your daughter, anyway?"

Annette brightened back up. "Ten! She doesn't need much looking-after, not really. Just a safe place to be at night. That's all she needs. She's the smartest, quietest thing you've ever seen. She reads lots of books and is really good at keeping to herself. She spends hours in her room listening to her iPod and drawing and … stuff. She's my little angel...." Alicia squeezed Brenda for all she was worth and whispered "Oh please oh please oh please, just think about it, Bren..." so softly into her lover's ear.

Brenda cleared her own throat then. "What's her name?" Alicia practically shivered with joy and settled more comfortably into Brenda's lap, taking the cap off the other beer, sipping it happily.

"Brianna – well, Bree, actually. That's what I call her. Bree." Annette reached down to the floor for her purse and came up with a wallet full of pictures. "She's my pretty girl...."

And indeed she was. Blonde, skinny, smiling. But still a kid. Still a pain-in-the-ass kid.

"I don't know..." Brenda began. But Alicia was ready.

"We've got two extra rooms here, honey," she argued. "All that junk in the back room could just go into the garage, right? Couldn't it? Or... or maybe we can put the exercise equipment from the workout room into the garage? I don't know, I'm just thinking.... But we have an extra room, either way, don't we?"

The back room with the "junk" was their sexual playpen, replete with a large, stained futon pad on the floor in one corner, a Sybian machine, a sex swing, and several sets of eye-bolts and chains in the ceiling. There was no way Brenda was going to deconstruct that room. It had taken them almost ten years to get it just right! And hell, she'd have to deadbolt it if some kid started staying the with them, like that wouldn't make a girl suspicious.

Alicia was going into full puppy-dog mode, poking out her lower lip, blinking with those large, beautiful hazel eyes. She'd wiggled deeper into Brenda's lap innocently enough, but her ass was now pressing against Brenda's mound in the sweetest way. She could feel the humidity rising in her panties. Her big clitoris – perpetually unhooded anyway, a situation that always posed its own wonderful problems – was already engorged and rubbing deliciously against every little movement her lover made. And Alicia knew it. She kept shifting her weight, just a little, just a bit, constantly. It was breaking Brenda down.

"I don't know," Brenda repeated, trying to concentrate, struggling to find an angle. "Are you saying she would, you know, like... move in with us?"

Annette explained, "Well, first of all, just let me tell you that this position will be enough of a raise for me to be able to pay you pretty well to watch after her. She just needs a place to stay at night where I know she'll be safe and cared for. I can't take this job and work all those nights if she's going to be at home alone. And the thought of just paying some stranger to come in and watch after her is – well, creepy."

Girl, you fucking think I'm a man, Brenda thought. I'm about the creepiest stranger you're ever going to meet! But what Brenda said out loud was, "I guess we can think about it," she glanced down at Alicia, who trembled with anticipation, "and let you know, like, in a couple days?"

That night, though, after one of the most intense, orgasm-wracked lovemaking of their relationship, Alicia finally had her way. Brenda called Annette just before midnight and told her they'd be happy to look after little Bree.