My Body is a Cage (Repost)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by PunkPrince, Feb 15, 2015.

  1. Samson Ridgewell tossed the basketball towards his friend Chance, who tossed it into the hoop before turning and grinning at Mel, the skinny purple haired girl that had been playing with them. "We won again!" he taunted her.
    "It's just because you guys are taller," Mel said. "Don't go thinking you're hot shit."

    Samson looked at his friends as they bickered. Chance was tall, almost six foot one, while Mel was a lot shorter, barely making the five foot mark. Samson himself was stuck awkwardly in the middle at just barely 5'4". Every single boy he had ever met was taller than him. Maybe it was just the boys where he lived, but his size was one of his biggest insecurities. He passed fairly well as a boy, but he was a short and scrawny one, and that bothered him to no end.

    He shuffled over to the portable iPod speakers, which had been playing a mixture of Mindless Self Indulgence, The Features, and Against Me songs. They were all Samson's favorite bands, but the iPod wasn't his. The iPod belonged to Mel, who had bought it with her own money. They just had the same tastes. "New game?" Samson asked. "Or are we done?" He picked up the speakers and the iPod and passed them to Mel, nearly dropping them when he heard a voice come on over the loudspeakers that ran through the entire group home.

    "Samantha Ridgewell, please report to the headmistress's office."

    "Crap!" Samson squeaked, his face going white at the sound of his birth name. "That family is coming to see me today and I completely forgot! I have to-" he stopped and then looked towards his friends. "Help me!" he pleaded desperately, looking down at his boyish clothes. "I'm not ready and Mrs. Brighton will kill me if I go in there like this!" He wasn't even finished with his sentence when Mel grabbed his arm and pulled him from the gym and up the stairs toward his bedroom, nearly tripping over the pile of parts from Chance's old, broken computer that Samson was trying to fix. She darted into his closet and dug around for a few seconds before throwing him a pair of skinny jeans and a light blue, feminine tank top. Samson sighed as he looked down at the clothes, but he picked them up and went into the attached bathroom to change.

    He pulled off the zip up hoodie and dark red t-shirt he had previously been wearing, and for a moment he stood and stared at himself in the mirror. Dark hair, not exactly long, but not short either. His eyes were a bright turquoise shade, and freckles were dotted across his nose. The femininity in his face made him look baby faced, and younger than his fifteen years. At least for a boy. is breasts were flattened down with ace bandages that he had wound around his chest. He knew that binding with ace bandages was dangerous, it had been known to constrict breathing and sometimes crack ribs, but Samson didn't care. He hated his breasts. They gave him away as obviously being biologically female. He couldn't afford a real binder, so if he cracked a rib using bandages, then so be it. He would rather have a cracked rib or two than have visible breasts.

    It wouldn't matter after today. He wouldn't be able to hide his breasts anymore. He was most likely being adopted by a family who didn't know that he was anything but one hundred percent girl. He would have to dress and act like a girl with these people. It happened with every new family, and once he finally got comfortable enough to tell them that he was transgender, he was always tossed out. He wouldn't tell this time. He could deal with being female for three years until he was a legal adult, couldn't he?

    As he unwound the bandages from his chest he tried to lie to himself and think that he could. He knew he couldn't, though. It would destroy him. The old cut and burn scars on his forearms proved that. The twelve years before he had been able to dress masculine and the time after that before he had come out had been riddled with nights of crying himself to sleep. He had been constantly sad and angry. And now he would have to go back to being sad and angry all the time. That wasn't what he wanted. That was the opposite. He just wanted to be happy with himself.

    He grabbed the bra off the pile of clothes and put it on. It was an old bra of Mel's that didn't fit her anymore. She'd given it to him for these "special occasions," which didn't happen very often. He had to dress female for things like this, no matter how much he hated it. If he went to meet this family dressed in boy's clothes Mrs. Brighton would get mad at him, and if this family didn't decide to take him, she would probably physically punish him. He couldn't risk it. He put on the rest of the clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. His short haircut was the only hint of masculinity left on him. He combed it out so that it was no longer messy and instead rested across his forehead in a more feminine fashion. He stared at himself for a few more seconds and then looked up as he heard a knock at the door.

    Samson pulled the door open and stared at the floor. Mel must have realized just how upset he was because she quickly pulled him into a hug.
    "I can't do this," Samson said quietly, tears filling his eyes. "I can't. Every time I get out of here it's always the same exact thing. I..."
    Mel squeezed him tighter. "You'll be fine, Samson. Just because the others tossed you out doesn't mean this one will. And you can always call me whenever you need anything." Samson didn't say anything in response to her, and he eventually let go of her.

    Mel gently took one of his wrists and looked down at the scars that ran along his inner forearm. "Promise you won't do anything like this again," she murmured. "Please."
    Samson sighed. "No promises." Upon seeing the worried look on his friend's face he said, "Okay, I'm sorry, I promise."

    They walked out of the bathroom and Samson glanced around the room. Chance passed him a few rubber bracelets. "Looking for these?" he asked. One of the bracelets was a Mindless Self Indulgence bracelet, the other two were from Against Me and another band that Samson didn't listen to all that much. They would do a decent job at hiding his scars though, so that was good.

    "Thanks," Samson said, slipping the bracelets on. "And thanks for helping me pack, you guys. It means a lot."
    "No problem," Mel said, handing him his bag. "Oh, and, here." She handed him a photo as she spoke. It was a picture from his last birthday, showing himself, Chance, Mel, and Jimmy Urine, the singer for one of their favorite bands, Mindless Self Indulgence. The concert tickets had been their birthday present to him. Meeting Jimmy had just been good luck.

    Samson opened his mouth to protest, because as far as he knew, this was the only picture any of them had from the occasion. "I got it copied," Mel said, before he could speak. That one is yours. Come on, Chance and I will walk you downstairs." Samson nodded, and they started walking down together.

    Samson wasn't sure to be excited or afraid. On one hand, he would be with family, and called Samson by everyone, unlike his various foster homes. Nearly everyone, and always the adults, always called him Samantha, no matter how much he begged them not to. On the other hand, Samson knew nothing about these people. Maybe they were awful. He hoped not. He hoped that at least one of them would like him, and the rest at the very least tolerate him.

    He doubted that they would keep him. They would take him home, but they would likely bring him back. Nobody ever wanted him. His own mother haven't wanted him. She had just left him on the front steps of the group home fifteen years ago and run off. He didn't even know her name.

    Once the trio reached the bottom of the stairs, they said their goodbyes. Chance and Mel reminded Samson to call them, and he promised he would before separating off from them and starting down the hall. Samson quickened his pace and then met the irritated headmistress Mrs. Brighton, at the door to her office. "Late again, Samantha."
    "My name is Samson," Samson growled under his breath. He normally would have snapped at her, but he knew that now wasn't the time. Mrs. Brighton shoved him into the room and Samson nearly tripped over himself as he stumbled in. "This is Samantha," Mrs. Brighton introduced him to the couple and teenagers standing there. Samson smiled at them and then said "Just Sam is fine."
     
  2. Mr. and Mrs. Crowe smiled brightly as they watched Sam stumble through the door. The couple stood side by side with Mr. Crowe's arm around the Mrs. They looked like soemething out of a sitcom or TV show. Behind them was Ryan, the oldest. He was in a dress shirt as well as pants and looked more like a casual business man than a teacher. Despite the fact he didn't technically live at the Crowe's anymore he still wanted to meet his new sister. Standing beside the young man was a small girl of 9, Sarah. She had shoulder length brown curly hair. Her smile was almost scary, but it befitted the child. The last person in the back was a taller boy...or so it seemed. Al was standing in the back more as an observer than anything. She was dressed in a large sweatshirt with an Against Me! logo. Her hair was in a short bob that framed her face perfectly. She had a pair of beat up jeans as well as vans. With an almost bored look on her face, Al glanced towards Sam.

    "Hello Sam," Ms. Crowe said taking a step closer to the girl. "You look beautiful," she continued with a bright smile. Something about the woman was warm and welcoming. Unlike most adults, Mrs. Crowe had an approachable aura for teens and young adults. She was youthful looking as well as just straight up pretty. "My name's Alexis. You can call me Alexis or Mrs. Crowe or whatever you feel comfortable with. This is David my husband. Ryan our oldest son. He's a teacher. Sarah, she's really excited about getting a new sister. And in the back is our Allyson." Each gave their own nod to indicated who Alexis was talking about.

    Sarah was first to approach Sam. "You're so pretty! When we get home I'll show you my room. It's filled with unicorns and kitty cats and..." Alexis stopped the child before she could continue. Ryan stepped forward next.
    "Hello, Sam," he started with a smile, "don't worry, you'll get used to the nonstop motor mouth." He laughed slightly as Sarah pouted slightly. He was going to wait for Sam to reply, but an alarm went off. Ryan pulled out his phone and looked at the notification. Turning to his family, Ryan stated, "Sorry, I have to go." Alexis smiled indicating that it was fine for him to leave.

    Lastly, Allyson went up to greet her new sister. "Hey, I'm Allyson. Call me Al...it's just easier," she began with a smile. Her face was youthful, but her height made her seem much older. Already she was 5'9" at 16. Technically she was still growing, but Al didn't really care that much. Al looked down at Sam's bracelets. "You like Against Me! too!!!" her tone immediately brightened as she reached for the girl's wrist. Al's eyes widened slightly when she noticed the scars, but she hid it quickly. With that same smile, Al continued, "Yeah, we're sharing a room... Hope you don't mind.

    Now it was Mr. Crowe's turn. "Sam, it's nice to meet you," he began as he stood tall at 6'3". Not only was he tall, but his presence was a bit overbearing. Despite this he had a fatherly aura. "The paper work is finished. The car's parked outside. I'll get your bags." He picked up the small bag and led his family to the car. They piled in systematically. Sam was left a seat next to Sarah.
    "We're going to have so much fun! Al never does anything with me. She hates manicures! Even sparkles!!! Can you believe that!" Sarah started in her room-filling voice.

    "Shut up, brat," Al replied back sharply only to be looked at by her mother. "What? She's being a brat!" Al defended, but instead was greeted by the 'mother' look. That immediately shut her up.

    Mr. Crowe was the one to finally say something important, "It's a bit of a drive. Hope you like Fleetwood Mac because that's what I like." He turned on the cd and started the car for the hour long drive.
     
  3. "Thank you," Samson said quietly when the woman told him me looked beautiful. He knew it was a compliment, but it was a compliment that rattled him to his core. He didn't want to be pretty. He wasn't pretty. He was handsome. At least he wanted to be. He pushed his thoughts to the side and gave the woman a smile. "It's nice to meet all of you." These people actually seemed okay. Nice, even. He wanted to get out of here, and these people definitely seemed better than the ones who had taken him before.

    He had to laugh when the youngest girl bounced up to him, a giant, almost creepy grin on her little face. Her words grated on her too. Pretty. There was that word again. Pretty, beautiful, they were all the same. Her mouth was running a thousand miles a minute, and he could just barely understand her. "I would love to see your room," he said. "I hope you're right," he said to Ryan when he said he would get used to Sarah's quick speaking. He had to get used to things regarding his own speech. He had trained himself to speak lower to sound more boyish, and Ms. Brighton was always telling him to "Stop doing that thing with his voice." He'd never meant to speak so low. He'd just done it involuntarily. Now he really would have to stop.

    He was surprised when the other girl spoke. Until she had opened her mouth he had actually thought she was a boy. He felt envy bubbling up inside of him. She couldnt be much older than he was and was already taller. Like passable male taller. Samson would give anything just for a growth spurt of a couple more inches. "I do like Against Me!" he said, happy to have found somebody who liked the same music as he did. He saw her eyes widen when she saw his wrist, and he was quick to pull his hand away. "I don't mind sharing a room," he lied. "Anything to get out of here."

    In reality he did mind. He didn't want to be selfish or anything, and under normal circumstances he probably wouldn't have cared. But his circumstances weren't normal. Samson himself wasn't normal and he knew that. Sharing a room meant he would have to be even more secretive than he had originally planned.

    But he simply grinned and followed the rest of the family outside. He could do this. He could last three years. He had to. "Thank you," he said when David got his bag for him. He settled in the empty spot in the backseat next to Sarah and mentally groaned when she started talking again. "No, I cant believe that," he said. In reality, he disliked those things probably more than Al did, but he didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings.
     
  4. The family just seemed to go along as the music played. It wasn't long until Sarah burned herself out and dozed off to sleep. The entire family seemed grateful for that moment. As the car continued on, Ms. Crowe said, "We don't live too far from the home. If you ever need something from there or anything just tell us. We'd be more than happy to help." She trailed off for a second before adding, "Oh, we have pets. Sarah has a bunny named Mr. Floppolopogus. Ryan's dog, Albert, is a retriever who pretty much just lounges the entire day and Al has a cat...we call him Panther. He's all black. Don't worry they're all rather friendly. We asked pior and Ms. Brighton said that you aren't allergic to pets. Panther sleeps in Al's room so you'll be seeing a lot of him." Al was plugged into her head phones as she dozed in and out of sleep for the duration of the ride. All the while, Mr. Crowe was humming along to the CD.

    When they got home the family got out. Al was one of the first. She hated long car rides. It took her a moment to catch her breath. Then she followed her mother to the door. Mr. Crowe got Sam's bags and also carried Sarah into the house. For an older man, Mr. Crowe was rather strong...probably because he was a veteran. Ms. Crowe opened the door and ushered the family inside.

    Al went straight to her room leading Sam with her. "It's near the back," Al stated as they reached the most secluded room in the house. When the door opened a rather large room was revealed. There were two beds, each on the opposite side of the room. There were two separate dressers and one closet. The two would have to share a closet, but their dressers were apart. "I just have a few rules," Al started as she took a seat on her bed, "don't touch my homework, boards, or music without my permission. If you can do that we'll get along fine. You can borrow any of my clothes without asking. I really don't care. But from the looks of it," Al looked Sam up and down, "you probably wouldn't like them."

    Al looked into Sam's eyes and said, "I understand that you've had a rough life. But that isn't the solution." Al was referencing the scars on Sam's wrists. "I won't tell anyone, but you have to stop," Al realized that she was being a bit of a hypocrite. She sighed and continued rolling up her pant leg to reveal similar marks. Though they were much older, the similarities were there. "My mother died a few years back. I got depressed and life was hard. For me it was a way to deal with the pain physically instead of mentally." She rolled down the pant leg and continued, "If you ever need to talk, just know I'll always be willing to listen."

    With that last statement Al smiled warmly and stood. "In this household just be yourself. Don't hide anything and if you're ashamed of it, you probably shouldn't be carring it around on your own. So, just don't wait up," she finished before walking out of the room to give Sam some space.
     
  5. Samson grinned as Mrs. Crowe mentioned that they had pets. He loved animals, but they weren't exactly common in the foster home. There had been some stray dogs and cats that had often wandered around outside the place. He and his friends had often left food out for them, not wanting the poor things to starve. Mrs. Brighton had caught them eventually and put a stop to that. To say that she had been pissed would be a huge understatement. "No, I'm not allergic," he said. "I love animals. I've never gotten to have pets before aside from a couple of stray animals I used to feed."

    When the car stopped, Sam got out and followed Al inside. The house seemed nice. Certainly nice than anywhere he had ever lived before. Most of the families who had tried him out hadn't had places anywhere near this nice. "Nice place," he commented, giving Mr. and Mrs. Crowe a small smile before darting off after Al in an attempt to keep up with the girl. He shuffled hesitantly into the secluded bedroom and set his bag down next to the door.

    "Don't worry," Samson said. "I won't touch your stuff. I don't have much, but I know I wouldn't want anybody else touching my stuff either." He looked down at himself when Al commented on his clothing. He had almost forgotten what he was wearing. "Oh," he laughed. "I don't usually dress like this at all. I only did it today because I was forced to. I usually dress more like you do. You can borrow my clothes sometimes if you want. I'm more than happy to share if you are."

    He knelt down and began taking his clothes out of his bag, leaving the roll of ace bandage in the bottom so that Al wouldn't see it. He moved to put his clothing away in his dresser, looking up as Al commented on his scars, saying that she knew he had had a hard life. "Yeah, he said. "You don't know the half of it." And she didn't. How could she? She had never dealt with gender issues as far as he knew. His words to Mel went through his mind as Al spoke to him. No promises. He didn't say this to her though. He couldn't. He just nodded. "Thank you," he said softly. "I'm sorry about your mother."

    And then she was gone. He was in the room alone. He finished putting away his things in complete silence, shoving the roll of bandages in the back of one of the the drawers and then went off to find Al or somebody else again. He wasn't sure about the rest of them, but he definitely liked Al.
     
  6. Al wasn't sure what to make of Sam. Obviously there was some really bad issues, but that was a given with foster kids. She walked out of the room and went into the kitchen where she found Mrs. Crowe making a few snacks. Al took a piece of cucumber before seeing that there was a message on her phone.

    Because they picked up Sam today, Mrs. Crowe made everyone leave their phones behind. She was being asked if she wanted to hang out with the guys. As usual they were probably going to do something either illegal or close to it. She just smiled at the thought. Even though she wanted to go, there was no way Al would be able to get out. She sighed and turned the phone off.

    Sarah had popped into Al's room and smiled at Sam. "You can unpack later. Come with me," Sarah was now pulling on Sam's sleeve urging him to follow her to the room. "You have to meet Mr. Floppolopogus!" Sarah's room was pink and the epitome of an 8 year old's pretty princess castle. Not only did her bed have a canopy, but it was covered with sparkles. There were stuffed animals galore. Sarah continued to talk, but this time it was about Al. "Allyson's no fun. She hates my room. Why would a girl hate pink? It's just not normal. She looks like a guy. Not only that but she doesn't go to mass with us every Sunday."

    Mrs. Crowe got a call and decided to take it into the other room. On the other end was Mr. Warren, the principal. They were discussing how school would go. Sam would share two classes with Al and have Ryan as her teacher for another. The last class she'd be on her own. The principal was making exceptions so Al could walk Sam to class. Unlike many schools, Sam wouldn't have to introduce himself in front of the class. Instead he could just sit down and be like the other students. Thankfully they had started a new semester so it wouldn't be that difficult for Sam to catch up.

    Seeing that her mother was gone, Al walked back to find Sarah talking to Sam again. "Beat it brat," she said as she grabbed Sam's hand. Dragging him back into Al's room, Al ordered, "Get into something you can move in. We're going to have some fun." Al grabbed her backpack and threw her wallet into it along with her mouthpieces for brass instruments. She had a plan to get out of the house. "Don't worry, I'll snag some of the cookies MoMo's making," Al disappeared for a second to make sure that Mrs. Crowe was still talking on the phone. "Hurry up," she instructed thinking of how they were going to make their escape.
     
  7. Samson had barely taken two steps out of the bedroom before Sarah poked her head around the corner and insisted that he meet her rabbit now and unpack later. The girl pulled on his sleeve and he put down his empty bag before following her to the bedroom. It looked exactly how he had expected it to; pink, sparkly, and girlie as you could possibly get, with stuffed animals just about everywhere. He frowned at the child's comments on Al. He liked Al. She seemed nice. "There are lots of girls who don't like pink," Samson said. "My friend Mel back at the foster home doesn't like pink at all. She likes black a lot more."

    "Lots of girls look like boys," he explained. "And sometimes boys look like girls. There's nothing wrong with that. If you think about it, nobody's really normal. We're all so different that there can't really be a normal." He didn't say anything about Al's not going to mass. Samson himself had only been to church a couple of times, forced to go by Mrs. Brighton. He could never really bring himself to believe any of the stuff he heard there. It all just sounded silly to him, and in all honestly, he couldn't really believe that any sort of loving God would create him the way he was, with crippling dysphoria and without a family who loved him.

    He wasn't sure what to say to Sarah, and breathed a sigh of relief when Al came and pulled him from Sarah's room. They wound up back in Al's bedroom, and she was telling him to change. Finally. He needed to get out of these clothes. He dug through his dresser until he found a pair of baggy jeans and a Mindless Self Indulgence t-shirt that was slightly too large on him. Good. It would make his breasts less obvious. It wasn't binding, but it was better than nothing.

    "Yeah, I'm hurrying," he said as he scrambled to change his clothes. He slipped out of the room and over to Al again. "Where are we even going?" he asked, slightly confused but still excited.
     
  8. Al smiled as she waved Sam on. "Come on," she said as she moved through the house and out the back. If they got away now there'd be nothing the Crowe's could do about them. The house was rather ridiculous to get out of because of the wooden fence that surrounded it. Al knew how to get around everything though. Despite this, she was worried about Sam's ability to keep up.

    When Al looked back to see where Sam was, she realized that Sam looked more like a guy. Well, she was much shorter than an average guy, but it wasn't that much off. She smiled and looked back, "You look better in those clothes...But I think you could use a better bra." She teased with a smile. "Don't worry, we can find one later." Al then found the opening in the fence and slipped through.

    Al walked quickly to get away from the suburbs. They were just a few miles from the main city anyways. "Hurry up," she repeated moving faster than before. They had to cross a major highway, but it wasn't that bad. When they reached the six lane street, Al stopped saying, "We aren't that far. Just cross this highway and we'll be in the city. Ever been to a jazz club?" She smiled with a bit of mishiff thrown in.

    Back at home, Mrs. Crowe hung up the phone was was going to see what Sam and Al were up to, but noticed that Al's phone was gone. She poked her head into Sarah's room and asked, "Honey, have you seen Al and Sam?" Already, Mrs. Crowe knew the answer.

    "They left about ten minutes ago," Sarah replied as she brushed one of her doll's hair. "I don't know where they went," she continued before holding up the doll. "Do you think she needs more more glitter?" Sarah asked as she thought about the question herself.

    Mrs. Crowe just smiled as she left the room saying, "If they come back please tell me. I'll be in the living room."
     
  9. Samson hesitated for a moment, and then followed Al out the back door of the house. He felt a lot less anxious in the clothes he normally wore. There was the issue of his chest, but he figured he should be counting his blessings at this point. Being out of those girlie clothes was good enough for him, at least for now. He slipped through the opening in the fence and glanced around, taking his first real look at the place that surrounded him. He felt free. He was so happy to be out of the foster home, away from Mrs. Brighton's poor treatment of him. He couldn't be himself here, not really, but the less frills he found himself in, the happier he would be.

    "I feel better in them," he said, grinning as Al spoke to him. "I'm not a fan of the stuff I usually get forced to wear back at the home. It's always too girlie, or at the very least way too tight. I like loose fitting stuff. I like being able to move around." He just laughed when Al said that he could probably use a better bra. That was probably true. Mel's bra fit him okay, but not as well as it could. He didn't really care. He would much rather be binding than wearing a bra, and how well whatever bra he was forced to wear fit him had never really mattered much to him.

    He quickened his pace to keep up with Al. Damn his short legs. "Sorry!" he apologized quickly, and then shook his head in answer to her question. "No," he said. "At least I don't think I have. I've been to a couple of places for rock concerts and stuff, but other than that and school I never really got out a whole lot. Didn't really help when the venue I used to go to shows at got torn down." He frowned at the thought. The closing down of the place had left him mostly hiding away in his bedroom to avoid the taunts of the other children in the foster home.

    He never really had gone out much once the place had been torn down, and school had become even more of a living hell for him. He was happy to finally be out of the foster home, if only for a short while. Every family who had seemingly rescued him from that place had brought him back. He didn't really think that these people would be any different, no matter how much he hoped they would be.
     
  10. Al just smiled as she replied, "It's a lot of fun. Just don't be too shy. We musicians like to talk." As they made their way across the roadway, Al saw the mall to their left. "Hey let's pop in for a second," Al suggested as she moved towards the mall. Not only did Al have money, but she also had her credit card. Once inside the mall Al smiled and pulled Sam into a sporting goods store.

    Without saying anything, Al returned quickly with a sports bra. It was a small that looked as if it would provide ample coverage. "Try this on," Al said as she held it out for Sam. She knew someone who was transgirl and Sam seemed to give off a similar vibe, despite being transguy. In a more hushed voice, Al continued, "I'll see what I can do to get a proper binding, but for now this can work."

    Al had considered being trans due to her affinity towards boy things. After a few months of trying to figure out what she was going to do, which included a lot of research, Al decided to stay a tomboy. It wasn't that she didn't like trans, but rather she was comfortable with her body. She didn't completely understand what Sam was going through, but she had enough knowledge to know how to deal with the situation.

    With a smile, Al walked over to the changing room and waited for Sam to reappear. She hoped this would help with the insecurity thing. That was the one thing that Al didn't have many of...insecurities. The only thing Al was really concerned with was her weight. When things got rough for her she often didn't eat. At a time she weighed barely 100lbs. Labeled as an anorexic, Al tried her best to keep the weight on. This was something that she didn't talk about. It was something that stayed between Alexis and herself.