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Field Log: DCI Charlotte Frasier. 001.
Detective Jodie Cole drove, giving me ample enough time to get up to speed with everything. Having only just transferred, the specific what’s and where’s of the Autogyne Crime Unit are new to me, but Cole seems to think I’m up to the job, what with my history.
Four hours it took, but traffic had a lot to answer for. Plenty of time to go over the files. Helen Herr is described by his former GP as a broadly delusional, 5 '8 autogynephilic male. No former criminal record. Has undertaken nearly a decade of hormonal replacement, and has surgeries on breasts, nose, jawline. Herr has a record of ‘passing’ - including the successful infiltration of many female-only spaces (toilets/changing rooms) so is considered highly dangerous.
Authentic sex-name is unknown, somehow. Former GP (Brian Carter) believes files might have been deleted/lost in-transit during doctors surgery change. The negligence is astounding, however Mr. Carter no longer practices and is, thankfully, in prison.
Cole has warned me to keep my wits about me. These Autogynes, she says, are habitual liars. They live and breathe a fiction, so I must be vigilant to take everything they say with an ‘immense heaping of salt’. Detective Cole helped found the unit, so knows what she’s talking about. I, myself, haven’t worked much with Autogynes. I met a few during my time in Vice - mainly prostitutes. Some found dead. That all stopped after the ruling - thank God. It was tough, but fair. Better for us, and better for them too. Everyone is safer now.
We pulled up at 13:20pm. The TWI had been temporarily closed, though some staff remained on-site. Of the 16 total residents, 5 have been re-housed at the facility down the street. 10 others were spread across other centres within a 50 mile radius. Helen Herr, of course, remains at-large. We hope to question as many as we can. I’m sure we’ll find him soon enough. Hiding won’t be easy - not now.
We interviewed TWA staff members C, J and A. The rest are arranged for tomorrow. Cole and I have a Premiere-Inn booked close-by, which is where I am typing this up from now. My room is pleasant enough. Clean, with a mattress protector. Breakfast included. The ‘view’ isn’t much to report on - a car park, attached to the loading bay of a nearby Asian Supermarket. No biscuits included with complimentary tea bags and coffee.
C was incredibly distraught when we spoke to her. She had to help identify the remains of Professor S (what there was, that is). The fire had rendered the cadaver an almost indistinguishable, charred mess. C was not present at the time of the incident, so is not currently a suspect. J, who was Herr’s ‘keyworker’ takes no personal responsibility. He claims to have been outside in the garden during the discovery of the fire, and has not proven particularly forthcoming. The Autogyne residents seem to corroborate his statement.
A, the other staff member on duty, I do not trust. She has no good explanation as to how the kitchen door ended up locked, and no convincing alibi to rule herself out. Of course, our leading theory is that Helen Herr was responsible, however we do not yet know how - looking into A’s records, we learned that she once had an Autogyne sibling (deceased) - so we cannot yet rule out conspiracy. There are, unfortunately, still many who do not comprehend the importance of this societal undertaking. A lot of women, especially, are too empathetic. They let it cloud their judgement - don’t understand the implicit danger at hand.
Two witnesses - an elderly couple on a ‘Christmas walk’ claim to have seen a ‘young woman with a dog’ hurrying off in the direction of the town centre around the time of the blaze. We are currently awaiting closed circuit footage from the area, and will review in due course.
Herr’s room was searched thoroughly by myself and Detective Cole, and papers were found - folded and tucked behind a loose skirting board - a crude diary of sorts, and what appear to be some attempts at short fiction. The pages were not dated, or ordered, so it is difficult to build a timeline at present, and deciphering exactly which is narrative fiction and which is Herr’s journal is not simple.
Detective Cole has ordered us pizza, so we can eat it in her room and review the CCTV footage - which she expects we’ll have in the next couple of hours. Ham and mushroom for me, and some sort of spicy chicken for her. I like Cole - she is methodical and logical, like myself. She doesn’t allow for sympathy to cloud her judgement. She knows as well as I do that the law is the law, and boundaries must be maintained. ‘Common Sense Policing’ she calls it. Amen to that.
We are awaiting transcript documents from Herr’s in-house psychiatrist, Rachel Sweeny. She is keen, it seems, to help us track Herr down.
END OF FIELD LOG.
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Mumsweb Forums - New Thread: New Mothers
OP: Anonymous
Good news… I’m alright.
Things are busy right now, so I’m going to have to make this brief. It’s been a tough couple of days - have had trouble sleeping. Rough nights. But I have my little friend now, and we are looking after each other. I’ve named her Julia.
She is as good as gold - very alert. An extra mouth to feed, sure - but well worth the struggle. Having to post this from a public library computer. People always leave themselves logged in. Not staying in one place for very long - moving quickly and often - only sleeping when I have to.
Feeling very exposed - bad skin, dirty hair. Will I ever get my looks back? God, I hope so. I have enough medication for a month or two, but I’m going to have to figure something else out soon enough. Trying my best not to be seen too often. I know it’s unlikely anyone I know will be reading this, but I need somewhere to put it all down - for posterity more than anything else. I filled up my notebook - left it on a park bench by mistake. Don’t even know the name of the park. Not a great start.
I hope things are okay with you. Hope you girls are hanging in there. Hope you still have computer access. Hope you stumble across this somehow.
I’m sitting next to a ‘recommended books’ display right now. You’ll never guess what’s on there… something called ‘The End of the Gender Cult’ by Gloria Greene. Hardcover. Kate Bailey from The Guardian says it’s good, according to the blurb. What do you think? Is it ‘the end’?
Alright, well I’d better get going - library is getting busier now.
Will check in again when possible.
Be as good as you can.
H x
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Field Log: DCI Charlotte Frasier. 002.
Detective Jodie Cole & I reviewed the CCTV footage. It is clear from the video timecode and angle that Helen Herr was the first person to leave the TWI (front entrance), somewhere between 5 and 7 minutes after the blaze began. We see him walk briskly down several streets towards the town centre, accompanied by a dog, ducking down behind cars and shielding face with sleeve. For now, we have positive ID on the suspect up until Randolph Park. I have reached out to the local council for additional security footage.
Today we returned back to the TWI to pick up A for further questioning. She wasn’t pleased to learn we were taking her into the precinct, as our previous interview had been on TWI premises. Jodie thought we’d have a better chance of the truth if we scared her, though. Drive there not too bad - 3 hours 37 minutes. Traffic minimal. Suspect A was belligerent, and very irritating for the first half hour of the journey, but Jodie drowned her out with a CD of Cats, the original broadway cast recording.
After that, South Pacific, Annie Get Your Gun and Gypsy. I had no idea she was a musicals fan, just like me. She apparently used to be a stage manager on the west end. It’s always nice when you get to learn a bit more about your partner - break down the walls a little bit. I shared with her that I had always dreamed of being in the theatre as a girl. “Look at us now” she said, and we both laughed.
It was true - my life is so different now. Not worse, by any stretch. I’m actually incredibly fulfilled. When I look back on where I was just 5 years ago - audition after audition, degrading self-tape after degrading self-tape. All I achieved was a short run in a pub-theatre production of Waiting for Godot and a call back for a polo advert (the mints, not the cars - and I didn’t get it). I don’t miss that struggle. No, I’ve really found myself in this line of work. Progress within it much clearer - more methodical. Fair.
When we arrive at the precinct, Jodie makes a big song and dance out of dragging A out of the car. A is still, even after 3 odd hours, very agitated and vocal. She has guilt all over her face, and a clear issue with authority. Women like her really get up my nose. I never used to notice it until working here though. Used to sympathise with them. But it’s her exact type who was dragging us down as a sex - happily handing over our safety, open handed, to Autogyne perverts. Jodie tells me I should never let my feelings get the edge over me. ‘Be Kind’ isn’t policing.
Jodie places her in the interrogation room, and as I enter - she gives me the signal that I’m ‘Good Cop’ - a little stroke of her right eyebrow. Barely even noticeable, unless you know what you’re looking for. Whenever we do these, I’m always Good Cop. It’s funny, I think Cole thinks of me that way because I’m quiet. I keep a lot of it to myself, yes, but in my head I’m far from that. I’m capable of being Bad Cop. But I’m new here, I understand that. There’s no rush with these things. Lots of interrogations to do, I’m sure.
We both sit down at the desk in front of A. I ask her if she wants anything - a Coke, Sandwich? She says ‘a lawyer’, which once upon a time would have held up the day significantly. We’d have to stop asking her questions immediately, wait until the court appointed one, then sit there for hours while she repeated, at their advice, ‘no comment’ over and over again. Luckily for us, this is the Autogyne Unit, and none of that applies.
Jodie grabbed A by her hair on the right side of her head, and yanked it down so hard that it caused her to 1) smash her face on the desk, and 2) hair come out in a clump in Jodie’s hand. Jodie began shouting then:
“Why do you hate women? Why do you hate your own kind and want to see us destroyed? It’s pretty fucking stupid, isn’t it? Pretty fucking short-sighted, no? Why’d you take the job if you don’t believe in the cause? Are you working for somebody? Who is it? We know you started the fire, so if you don’t start coming up with some information, it’s looking like a pretty stretch of time for you…”
I interjected there - hit her with a bit of the Good Cop. Asked her what sort of sandwich she’d like, cheese and pickle or ham and cucumber? She was, unfortunately, very rude.
“I don’t want a sandwich you fucking Pig”.
The door opened, and an officer from the observation room called me out as there was a message waiting for us from Psychiatrist Rachel Sweeny, regarding Helen Herr’s talk-therapy transcripts. Detective Cole said I should take the call, and assured me that she’d be fine completing the interrogation by herself. As I left, I saw her roll up her shirt sleeves and give me a wink.
I’ve never understood why people call us ‘Pigs’. Pigs are very misunderstood animals. Highly intelligent and sensitive. Hardly seems fair to me. END OF FIELD LOG.
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Mumsweb Forums - New Thread: Kids Lunchbox Ideas
OP: Carole-Anne
Not eaten for a while, but I did manage to clean up a bit - have a wash, rinse my hair a bit in the library bathroom sink. Big, Victorian tiling. Unisex. Not the same library I posted from before, a different one. Not the same one I’m in now, actually. Finding somewhere to sleep is difficult, so I try to keep moving.
Did nod off for an hour or so in a park. Julia is good at waking me up if anyone is around. I was going to steal some books, just to keep my mind occupied, you know? But I found a library card on the ground outside, and they don’t have photos on them. So I am Carole-Anne Whitbread now. I hope she likes fines.
Looked her up on the system and the last book she got out was The Davinci Code. Before that, a DVD of Dido in concert. I used the card to get out that book I mentioned before: The End of the Gender Cult by Gloria Greene. They had it in paperback here, which is a bit easier to carry around.
I’ve only read the first few pages, and it’s not very good. She’s an ‘academic’ apparently, this Greene, but I’ve never heard of her. Her style is dry, like a machine wrote it, and is about as nuanced or philosophical as you might expect. I want to read it though. I want to understand who is responsible here - who is informing these politicians. To figure out if there’s anything we can do about it.
It’s risky, but I’m going to steal a packet of razors from a corner shop. I need them. If I can pull that off, I’ll try to lift something to eat - some crisps or chocolate. A milkshake maybe, to keep my protein up. Dog food for Julia. The razors might seem ‘vain’ to you, but I have to pass. The risks are even higher now. Blending in comes before anything else.
I can’t exactly tell you my plan because firstly, it’d be pretty stupid of me to expose myself so quickly and, secondly, I don’t have one. All I can really do for now is to keep moving - to try and build myself back up somehow. To get my hands on the right medication - the right clothes - the right friends. Imagine it girls, if I can pass in this hostile a landscape, won’t they all look stupid then?
But right now I’m so far back. I have such an altitude to climb, and until then I must remain out of sight.
Be as good as you can.
H x
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[TO BE CONTINUED...]
Field Log: DCI Charlotte Frasier. 003.
Helen Herr’s psychiatrist, Rachel Sweeny, has been incredibly cooperative. Didn’t hesitate to send us over a complete transcript of all their conversations (which Detective Cole is currently reading through), as well as some useful insight into the mind of the Autogyne, more generally. Says she is working on a book about them. That’s good, I told her. We need to understand them in order to help them, and free them from their cruel affliction.
She agrees. Cole might see that as ‘weak’, and I do understand her perspective on it, but they take up an awful lot of public resources in these facilities. Why should they get room and board at our expense? If we can cure them, then they can become useful members of society again. I’m sure there are even jobs they can do - working in charity shops, perhaps. I have hope in that.
Rachel Sweeny tells us in her notes that Helen Herr had a dangerous outburst at a cemetery, and had to be restrained and segregated. Police were called to help, and although he has no known record of previous criminal activity, Sweeny believes him to be a ‘ticking time bomb’. Herr showed no real interest in being gender-reformed, despite a stint of pretending to be - misleading staff. He also witnessed the death of a fellow Autogyne, as well as a hired Masculinity Trainer named Angeloupolus. Sweeny advises us to approach with extreme caution, as these events can only have contributed towards a fractured and unpredictable mental state.
Helen Herr is not our only assignment. We have also been surveilling a suspected Autogyne Female named ‘Richard Hastings’ who we believe to have been illegally living deep-stealth since the law change. Hastings works in an establishment called Full Moon Cafe as a barista. We have had a tip off from her manager, and I am typing this now from the car while we wait for Hastings to finish her shift.
My partner, Detective Jodie Cole, sent me in to do a recon on Hastings earlier this afternoon, as well as pick up two caramel lattes with oat milk, and two cinnamon swirls - which I am happy to report were delicious. Below are my findings from said reconnaissance:
14:00: I enter Full Moon Cafe. Tasteful decor on walls - Italian street scenes. Rome, probably. Easy listening jazz music playing on speakers. Visualisation on suspect Richard Hastings - located behind till, serving elderly woman. I join the line, which is moving at a reasonable pace.
14:03: Hastings takes my order. I notice she is short in stature - approximately 5’4 - with beard and nose ring. Hands seem proportionate - not a definite giveaway. Could be a bio-males. However, lips are fuller than a man’s. And there is something soft about ‘him’.
14:05: I ask Hastings to double my caramel, forcing her to reach up to a pump on a high shelf - I do this to catch a glimpse of the neck, in case an Adam’s Apple is visible - however the beard proves too full and I don’t catch it.
14:06: I pay - thanking ‘him’ for the drinks, and make my way back out of the cafe, and get back into the car.
I tell Jodie that I’m 80% sure she is a deep-stealth Autogyne. Jodie tells me she’s 100%. Apparently, the tip-off came from the manager, after finding a used tampon in the men’s toilets, and witnessing Hastings being the last to leave the facilities. This manager has been suspicious for months, and has been losing sleep about it.
See, these Autogynes don’t realise the harm they do - confusing good, everyday, hard working people. Toying with their sense of reality - having them second guess themselves and feel guilty simply for doing their civic duty. It’s practically gaslighting.
Jodie says she has just gotten confirmation from the manager that Hastings is about to go on break. When we go in, she says, I’m to let her do most of the talking, but I should keep an eye on the exits and general surroundings. We do not yet have access to proper firearms, unfortunately, however I do have a taser and a pepper spray that Jodie says I should ‘absolutely not hesitate to use if any resistance is put up’.
This will be my first Autogyne capture, so I’m keen to make a good impression - however I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. Some of these Autogynes are seriously dangerous. There have been incidents of them fighting back - pulling weapons. Amazing what gender-ideology will do. Detective Cole can see this and grabs my hand. She squeezes it and tells me to breathe and remember that we are doing good work. We are right. There is a war on women, and we are the front-line.
She’s right. I squeeze back. She tells me it’s okay to be nervous - that I should use it.
Time to go…
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Mumsweb Forums - New Thread: Au Pair Issues
OP: Anonymous
I’m exhausted. I have been walking aimlessly, down random side streets and busy motorways. Julia is getting confused, I can tell. I’ve not been eating, and what I do have for poor Julia clearly isn’t enough for her. It might be less cruel to just let her go, I don’t know. Maybe leave her outside a vets or an animal charity if I see one. I don’t want to.
I can’t really keep this up - not like this, anyway. The libraries are good for a bit of restbite, but what’s the plan?
I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay in this library very long, either. The woman behind the reception is definitely suspicious of me. Keeps giving me side glances, and finding excuses to come over and ask if she can ‘help’ with anything. Yeah right. Not falling for that one.
I’ve been reading through this Gloria Greene book. She says that we’re ‘under the spell of a bourgeois, luxury identity - one which seeks to find status in oppression politics’. I don’t exactly know what all that means - I’m too hungry to focus and my brain is struggling to string words together.
Be as good as you can.
H x
Field Log: DCI Charlotte Frasier. 004.
Jodie barely even identifies herself, she just goes right behind the counter where suspect Richard Hastings is hanging up ‘his’ apron, and grabs him/her by the arm, twisting it behind his/her back and pushing him/her down hard onto the counter. She informs her/him that she/he is being detained for being a suspected deep-stealth Autogyne - and that any resistance will be met with double back. Hastings does not resist physically, but is extremely confused and upset.
The drive over to the precinct is frustrating. Hastings is a whiner, claiming harassment - pretending his/her arm is broken. Jodie tells him/her to ‘put a sock in it’ and cranks up the Cats (our new tradition it seems). As ‘The Old Gumbie Cat’ blares out, Hastings insists that we’ve made ‘a huge mistake’. That we’ll ‘regret what we’re doing’. Still, they all say stuff like that. Arrogant fucking Autogynes…
UPDATE: Yesterday I looked up ‘Autogyne’ on the web. It derives from the term ‘Autogynephile’ - traditionally used to refer to a MAN who ‘sees himself to be a woman’. However, in recent times we have taken to referring to all - whether biologically male or female as ‘Autogynes’. Technically inaccurate, yes - but easier to classify, and catchy. Us vs. Them. It is mostly ‘trans-identified’ males we deal with anyway, as most of the females are much harder to uncover - but Jodie has lightly reprimanded me about putting ‘Autogyne’ in official reports, which I’m to change to ‘Andro’. She can’t stay mad at me, anyhow!
When we arrive at the precinct, we go through the routine as usual. We sit Hastings down in the interrogation room, and offer him/her a drink or something to eat, [then we leave her/him to stew for about 3 hours - ignoring toilet requests. It’s not technically ‘standard procedure’ but it gets good results. There’s no one in the precinct who isn’t dedicated to our end-goal, so we don’t have to worry all too much] *do not include in final report draft.
We usually spend that time finishing up on reports, or eating, or catching up with colleagues. It’s the only chance we really get to see each other, and is a vital time to share stories and techniques. There are a few of us though who see each other outside of work. Go out clubbing sometimes. There’s Jodie and I, obviously. Then there’s Nathaniel. He’s hilarious. Gay guy, late 40’s. Camp as all Hell. He brings his life-partner (Ralphy) with him sometimes. Nice guy, works in high-end textiles. They know I’m a lesbian, and we have a good laugh. Let off some steam.
Nathaniel is there today. He tells us about a recent capture he and his partner Trudy made, which nearly got them both killed. This Autogyne they’d been tracking for weeks led them to the entrance of a sewer, and when they entered a gunshot ricocheted off the walls and the bullet skimmed Trudy’s head. Undeterred, they followed through the pipe and found the Autogyne dead after having fallen 35 feet off a concrete ledge. No weapon was found on the suspect.
Nathaniel tells it like a ghost story, and if creeping me out is the intention - it works. The insinuation here is that there are even more Autogynes than we can imagine - literally living underground in the sewers - intentionally leading us down there to be murdered. I said we ought to just gas the entire sewer system - which got a good laugh.
As we head back to the interrogation room, Jodie grabs me by the arm to turn me and looks me in the eye. She says I impressed her back there, in the cafe - keeping an eye out for her and not rising to the suspect’s antagonisations. She says I’ve come on leaps and bounds. Her hand stays gripped to my arm. I can feel her manicured nails just poking through the threading of my longsleeve. It doesn’t hurt, I like it.
Jodie says I should be Bad Cop this time. I ask her if she’s sure I’m ready, and she insists I was ‘ready weeks ago’. It feels good to have my work recognised, finally. I’ve seen her do it a hundred times now, so I know what to do. It’s whether I can convincingly sell it or not, that’s the thing. Letting Jodie down is the last thing I ever want.
As we enter the interrogation room, Hastings leaps up - startled. We sit down, and Jodie begins the game - asking if we can get him/her anything. Hastings says he/she is dying for the toilet, and Jodie says she can take him/her. The Toilet Routine, we call this. We’ll watch which toilet the suspect chooses, then grill them on it when they return. Hastings goes for the men’s room, predictably.
When Hastings sits back down, I hit him/her across the face. Open palm - hard. The sound is exquisite. A perfect SNAP - a slight echo of it lingering. I deliver my line…
“Why the fuck did you go in there? You’re a woman, aren’t you? What the fuck are you playing at?”
Hastings stands up, sending his chair backwards onto the ground. He doesn’t say anything - he just glares at us both, teary eyed, and proceeds to pull down his trousers. A penis.
We’ve messed up big-time.
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Mumsweb Forums - New Thread: Diaper/Nappy Rash Issue: Help!!
OP: Anonymous
Something interesting has occurred. The librarian, who I first had assumed had suspicions of me, instead invited me over to her house for dinner. This played out last night as the library was closing. She waited until every other patron had left, and then sat down next to me - asked me if I had anywhere to go. Instinctively, I told her ‘yes’ and that I ‘wasn’t homeless, if that’s what she thinks’. I was standoffish. Dead-rude. She said she understood, but there was ‘a bed open to me for the night if I changed my mind’.
I sat there for a further 15 minutes, and she let me, too - just tidying up books behind me, sorting the coins out of the printer. I told myself I wouldn’t trust anyone, that’s the thing. Especially not her sort. Cis. Older. To look at her you’d think she has one of these Gloria Greene books on her shelf at home. I reckoned there were only two likely possibilities: 1) She doesn’t know I’m trans, and would rescind her help if she found out. Or 2) She knows, and this is a trap to turn me in.
Except, I was so hungry. And then there’s Julia. I was getting to the end of my tether - too low on sleep. Hallucinating. If I could just get one good night’s sleep, I should be able to carry on for another couple of days. I weighed it all up, and came to the conclusion that agreeing to her offer was high risk, but that going on as I have been was a sure failure. So I accepted.
Turns out, she only lives around the corner from the library - so we walked back in the dark. I won’t name her, for her protection. Let’s call her ‘Karen’ (a little in-joke that she’d find funny). On that walk to her house, I disclosed everything to her. Told her who I was… what I was. Where I’d come from, and what I was doing. Full disclosure. Again, a huge risk - and not something I wanted to do.
But she already knew… God, I need to get my hormone levels balanced.
Field Log: DCI Charlotte Frasier. 005.
I thought we would get dragged across the coals for our cock-up with Hastings, but Detective Cole - as a founder of the Autogyne Unit - has friends in high places. She spoke with Sergeant Greer - took full responsibility. So long as we both participate in a one day, mandatory ‘Identification Training’ we’re fine to carry on as usual. Cole tells me that Hastings has been compensated fairly. Since the gaffed interrogation, we have also followed up with the manager who reported Hastings - who, would you believe, is ‘himself’ an Andro Female! Thought ‘he’ could get away by selling out her own kind…
Jodie says that these things do happen from time to time. The fact of the matter is, Autogynes and Andros are much harder to identify these days. It isn’t like the glory days of old, when the science wasn’t as sophisticated - and the newspapers did their bit by publicly shaming them. Well, most newspapers - The Telegraph, God bless them, have always been a good ally to us - a vital tool in our public communication on the issue. It’s the ones who started young that are most problematic. To the untrained eye, one can hardly be sure.
The Identification Training is illuminating. Jodie and I attended the session, which took place in a hotel conference room, and was facilitated by a cheery gentleman named Tony. There were 8 of us in total, and a healthy continental breakfast was included, with tea and coffee making facilities. Before working as a Trainer for the AU, Tony was a receptionist in a gender clinic, having met and personally interacted with hundreds of Autogynes and Andros - so he certainly knows his onions.
His Powerpoint presentation was extremely illuminating. I learned a lot about subtle facial signifiers, as well as some pertinent tidbits on the differences between male and female hairline areas. He even allowed us to pass around and examine real bone fragments and guess which ones belonged to biological females, and which to Autogynes. I was able to identify them correctly 70% of the time, which Tony assures me is very good.
The training session ended a couple of hours early, with Tony more than satisfied we were all ready to take our ‘newly learned expertise’ into the field. Jodie suggested she and I ought to go out for dinner afterwards, which was fine by me. She said she knew a place about 20 minutes away that did incredible barbeque ribs, so we headed over there by foot. We cut through Trafalgar Square, and a tourist asked Jodie to get a picture of her in front of the fountains.
Jodie then asked the tourist to take a photo of us with her phone camera. She put her arm around my shoulder, and pulled me in tight to her body. The tourist snapped the shot, but Jodie wasn’t happy with it, so asked her to do another one. On the second go, as the camera flashed, Jodie kissed me hard on the cheek. Not a friendly peck - something longer. More meaningful.
Before we could get to the restaurant though, Jodie received an update on the Andro cafe manager. She said that Nathaniel and Trudy were due to administer a ‘marking’ within the hour, and wanted to know if she’d be an official witness to it. I didn’t know what any of it all meant at the moment - I didn’t want our time by the fountain to end. I wanted to tell her how I felt. Wanted to kiss her back. But Jodie seemed excited about this update, and said she wanted me to see it too.
On the cab ride back to the precinct, Jodie explained that ‘markings’ were rare - but were being trialed on an experimental basis. She’d never witnessed one in person herself, but had seen videos - motley out of America. As it turns out, Prime Minister Wesley Grantham had just authorised a trial that month, and now we were rolling it out. All I could think about though was that kiss.
Back at the precinct, there was a palpable excitement in the air. Jodie guided me over to the first aid room, where the Andro Cafe Manager (Stephen Gill) was being held down on a bed by Nathaniel and an officer we call Duggs. Trudy was reading over an instruction manual and pressing buttons on a piece of heavy duty equipment reminiscent of a tattoo gun. I learned later that it was just a standard tattoo gun.
Gill was extremely bothered - trying to flail her legs, and ended up having to have a mild sedative administered. Nathaniel asked Jodie and I if we agreed to be witness to the marking. We agreed. Trudy then processed to brand a less-than neat, dark black marking onto the left cheek of Andro Stephen Gill. Only when Trudy had finished, and moved to put the tattoo gun back in its box, could I see what the marking was.
A large ‘XX’, just beneath the eye.
END OF FIELD LOG.
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Mumsweb Forums - New Thread: Killer Spaghetti Recipe
OP: Anonymous
‘Karen’ is wonderful. She used to have a dog, so has been great with Julia. This morning she even took her for a walk while I spent some more time in bed. Turns out - I really did need that sleep. She made me an incredible pesto spaghetti dish with garlic bread and mushrooms last night, and we talked for a little while in her kitchen before she showed me to my bedroom. She used to be a Labour councillor back in the 80s - has photos with some of the top guys from that period. Says she could never vote for them now.
She told me I can stay as long as I need to - but I don’t think I should hang around. Maybe I should ask her if she’ll look after Julia though? She’d be in better hands with her than with me. She says she’s not afraid to house me - tells me I’m no imposition - thinks ‘all this nonsense’ll blow over soon enough’ - and that I should at least stay hidden until it does. I told her I don’t think it will. I said I think it’s only going to get worse.
Besides, I don’t know for sure if I can trust her. I almost bolted immediately when I saw the Labour Party memorabilia - thought I’d walked into a trap - but she seems long past all that now. Still, I should be careful. I can’t really afford to put my trust in anyone as it stands. If I keep moving, even if I don’t know what I’m moving towards, at least I’ll be a moving target. Harder to hit.
There’s a TV in the small guestroom, which I put on for a bit this afternoon while Karen was at work. I realised it’s the first time I’ve seen any terrestrial news for about a year… and the way they talk about us now… Before the law-change, they were already openly misgendering us - but the tone is different. It’s more venomous. There are specialist policing units now - out looking for absconders like me. There’s even a daytime Watchdog style documentary programme on BBC One dedicated to bringing us in.
It’s called ‘Chasers’ and I caught a bit at the end of one episode where the camera crew followed a unit making a bust at a Quaker centre. They were hiding two trans women and three trans men. The people running the Quaker centre were both sentenced to 6 years jail time. I don’t want that to happen to Karen. (I don’t know what happened to the trans people).
Spent a little bit more time reading this Gloria Greene book. In the chapter I’m on, she talks about how ‘trans identity is a conspiracy by Big Pharma to sell hormone replacement drugs’. I guess that’s what I should be figuring out first - where I’m going to get my medication from. It’s not going to be easy, because under Prime Minister Wesley Grantham all HRT has been banned for ‘trans identifying adults’. There used to be a black market on the internet, but I’m worried a web-search might lead back here. It’s just too hot right now. That’s why I’m hand-writing this, and I’ll transcribe it later in the library.
Be as good as you can.
H x