Dawn of the Genderquake

This is a story set in the very early years of Jamie Vesta's Genderquake scenario.

[note] in spite of the title, this is nothing... absolutely nothing like that ape movie ;)


My mother and aunt sat watching TV whilst I peered aimlessly in to my smart phone's mesmerising screen... as usual.

“It reminds of when those skin tight jeans first came into fashion.” my aunt said as she and mum sat bemused in front of the TV. “Or deelie boppers.” she added with a grin.

“What are deelie boppers?” I asked.

Mum described the novelty headband to me and I knew exactly what she was talking about. “We never thought they'd catch on either but they did.” she added, before turning back to the TV.

They were watching the local news programme which reported on a protest outside one of the high street stores. The footage showed a small group of people holding home made banners bearing the slogan 'let boys be boys' and chanting the same four words over and over. The scene cut to the interior of the store and showed racks of dresses and frocks on display... then my jaw dropped when the presenter began to speak. “This may look like any other high street store, but all is not as it seems as this...” he gestures to the display of frocks, skirts and dresses, “...is the boy's department.”

“I think it's scandalous.” my mother commented.

“I think it's about time.” my aunt added before turning to me. “Would you like to wear a dress Peter?” she asked.

“No way!” I exclaimed. “Only girls wear dresses.”

“Maybe not for much longer.” she grinned.

Summerday Sands

Mum took my sister and I for a day out at the seaside, and being a typical girl, my sister couldn't decide whether to wear her pedal pushers and a t-shirt, a sun-dress or her playsuit. I on the other hand wasn't bothered. I had my cargo shorts and my sporty sandals which meant I could paddle in the rock pools and play on the rocks. “Right Sarah!” Mum snapped, clearly getting impatient with her indecision, “Just put your sandals on, and put either your sun-dress or your playsuit in your bag in case you change your mind, and get in the car... please.”

Torn between three outfits, one of which she was wearing, Sarah seemed strained to decide. She screwed her face up, asked if she could bring both, was told 'no', screwed her face up again and left her favourite sun-dress behind in favour of her favourite playsuit. Why girls describe so many different clothes as their favourite I'll never know. I have a favourite t-shirt and a favourite pair of trainers and that's it. Sarah has her favourite pink top, her favourite blue top, her favourite this top and that top, and that's just her tops. Wait 'til she starts talking about skirts, dresses, pants!!!

When we arrived, the tide was miles out from the shore and the craggy rocks  and the sands were open for our exploration. Sarah and I ran around the marshes that sat just above the high tide mark. This flat expanse of grass was scarred with a myriad of shallow pools which were great fun to leap over but not to paddle in, being stagnant and seemingly lifeless. Being a boy, I was always keen to show off by trying to prove that I could jump further and better than my sister, and being my sister, Sarah was always setting me challenges.

“Be careful you two!” our mother hollered as ran across the marsh, jumping the pools and enjoying the freedom of the seaside. We took it in turns leading the way and much to my displeasure, Sarah managed to leap even the widest pools. When it was her turn to lead the way, I was confident that I'd be able to keep up because she is after all, just a girl. But my confidence was soon dissipated as she managed to leap across a pool that I felt was far too wide for me.

“Come on Peter!” Sarah said. “If I can do it surely you can.”