Author's Note: This story is a work of fiction. Any semblance to a real person or people is sheer coincidence. It contains incidences of same-sex relations. If you are prejudiced against this, please move on.



At her mother’s insistence, she had gone on vacation to her uncle’s home in Osogbo for part of the holidays.

When Uncle Eddie visited them the last time (that was in August), he had asked her ma to allow her visit him in Osogbo. He had said it would be a good experience for a 14-year-old. At the time, she was wallowing in melancholy. She had learnt that her favourite R n B singer, Aaliyah, had died in an air crash. She had felt a connection to Aaliyah in a way. She knew all of Aaliyah’s song by heart. People in her school even said she looked like her. One of her teenage dreams was to grow up and meet the music sensation. Now that it wouldn’t happen anymore, she was devastated. It was as if her big sister had died.


She felt that going to Osogbo would be a good idea since she hadn’t seen her cousins in a while. The last time she had seen them was at her grandma’s funeral in Auchi, Edo State. That was about eight years ago. Her mother had assured her that Uncle Eddie was a nice man. Her mother had told her a whole lot of good things about him. He had seen her mother through nursing school. In fact, he seemed to be the only one who stood by her mother when her father kicked the bucket. She was four years old at the time.

She was to spend two weeks with her uncle and his family before coming back to Lagos to celebrate Christmas with her mother. Then, her mother didn’t own a mobile phone. They agreed that since they'd spent time apart from each other for longer periods, it wouldn’t be so bad. (Zuri attended Command Secondary School, Lagos. It is a boarding school.)

On getting to Uncle Eddie’s home, her cousins (three boys who were older than she was) and aunt gave her a warm reception. At moments like these, she wished she had a “real” family. Sometimes, she missed her dad. He passed on in an air crash. She had developed a phobia for aeroplanes. It made matters worse when she heard that Aaliyah died in an air crash.

That evening, they had shared stories about their lives. She told them about her school. She narrated how the seniors were very mean. She went on to tell them about how they jogged to the assembly ground after having breakfast. She told them that it was strange that even after doing labour on Friday, they still had another labour day on Saturday. She’d told them that now she had become a senior, she wasn’t be mean to the juniors under her.

Her cousins also told her about their schools. Only the eldest was waiting to be admitted into the university. They attended a day school close to their home. According to their father, it was good in order to keep an eye on the boys.

They went on and on with their chattathon.

It was almost midnight when Uncle Eddie and his wife asked the children to kneel for the night prayer. Auntie Amaka had prayed against the witches and wizards who flew at night looking for whose blood to suck. She repeated several times that her flesh was tough and her blood was bitter: no harm could come her way because of that. Her family chanted that with her. Zuri opened one eye to catch a glimpse at them. They were were on their knees. With each prophetic declaration, they shook and nodded their heads. It was like they were on their knees trying to please Jesus. They needed his goodness and mercy to come and pour on them. It seemed like they nodded faster and harder. They ended the powerful prayer session reading Psalms 23 and 91.

That was her first night at Osogbo. Moses, her eldest cousin, had put off the generator. She embraced Silence like a long, lost lover. The December night was cold and she knew that she needed extra covering. Luckily for her, there was a duvet in the guest room. She was happy to have a room to herself. This wasn’t like the small one-bedroom apartment she shared with her mother in Lagos. She wondered why Lagos, the Centre of Excellence, still had homes that were almost inhabitable in the new millennium. But then, she reasoned maybe this was because her mother wasn’t as rich as Uncle Eddie.

In the silence of the guest room, she shed some tears. She missed her mother. If only she could just go home the next day. She didn’t have a female cousin here to talk with. Her mind wandered to her friends in school. She played back some memories she had with her close gal pal, Miriam.

Miriam Meyer-Asaolu had a Nigerian father and South African mother. Miriam was what the students called a “feeler” because she paid extra care to how she looked. Her uniform was always “standing”. (That was the slang used by the students referring to well ironed). She was precocious and sophisticated. Many students in the school liked Miriam but Miriam liked just her. This made her feel flattered. They had met two years back in the school’s sick bay which the students called MI Room. They just clicked. They were both in JSS 3 but different arms.

During break, they swapped visits to each other’s class. They would talk about boys, who said what, the teachers that got them angry, the seniors in their hostels, boys, boys, and boys.

On Weekends, Zuri would go over to Flying Horse House to stay with Miriam. Miriam didn’t have a school mother. But then, no one dared to touch her because it was said that she was the commandant's niece. Who would want to get into trouble? They would do everything together: wash, go to the dining hall, read, do their home work, and sleep on Miriam’s bed. It was much comfortable being at Miriam’s dormitory.

They would lie in bed and talk about their future. Miriam wanted to be a model. The first time she told Zuri, Zuri had laughed thinking it was one of Miriam’s jokes. When she saw her friend was serious, she was mortified. Miriam had told her that her father had insisted that she schooled in Nigeria in order to know the culture of her people. As soon as she was done, she would go back home. South Africa was home to her. Sometimes, Zuri felt sad. She wasn’t going to be around after their secondary school education. Miriam too was sad at such times. Then, they’d tell themselves that they might not be friends the next day and just laugh it off.

Thinking about Miriam this night made her break down. Miriam had travelled to the US to spend her vacation. She had promised to buy her things from New Orleans. She had hugged Miriam so tight that morning after getting their results for the term. That hug said so many things their hearts felt but their lips couldn’t say. She wished Miriam a safe trip. She asked her to think of her. Miriam had laughed and said, “Don’t I always have you in my heart? If you could see my heart right now…”

She tossed and turned in the bed. She knew she had to sleep. She tried the trick of counting down from 100. It wasn’t working. That was when she decided to spin fantasies in her head. She let her mind wander to a boy in her class. Malik. Many of the girls in her class wanted to date him. She found it absurd that Miriam had refused to date him when he asked her out. She remembered how shocked she was when Miriam told her that she told him that she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. He was one of the “big boys” in school. She still found it absurd that Miriam had turned him down when he asked her out. She liked the fact that she was the only person in the school Miriam was interested in.

Once, during their weekend sleepovers, Zuri had asked Miriam why she liked her.

“Why I like you? Lemme see. You are not like everybody. You know, you are special.”

“Why do you think I am?” Zuri played with a lock of Miriam’s hair. (Miriam had soft, Caucasian hair that felt silky to the touch).

“’Cause you are.” Miriam had responded sleepily.

“You are sleeping off on me.” Zuri had pouted.

“No… I love what you are doing with my hair. How many people would do this? See why you are special?” Miriam had turned to snuggle up with Zuri. “And you are warm, too.” Miriam was sounding very sleepy. “You’re my special fwend and I wuurrv you wike that.” Miriam had taken in a deep breath. “I love the way you smell, too.”

Miriam was like the sister she never had.

Lying in this bed and trying to catch sleep, her mind drifted to Malik. She imagined they were a couple. She knew that they would be the talk of the school. Other girls would literally die of envy. Especially Kate. Kate was a big-sized girl in their class. She had a clique who she seemed to be able to rule.

She came up imagining different scenarios and finally, sleep claimed her.

The next morning, the sound of thunderous clapping and songs of praise coming from the sitting room dragged her out of Dream World. She couldn’t tell the time. She made to grope for her wristwatch when it dawned on her that she wouldn’t be able to tell the time in the dark. She decided to join the family in their morning supplication.

They were at it for almost an hour. Aunty Amaka had pleaded the Blood of Jesus on everything they would do, eat, and drink. She had to try so hard not to burst into a frenzied laughter. How could her aunt seem to fight with everything in the world? Maybe Aunty Amaka had offended someone and was scared that they would launch a spiritual attack on her.

They prayed in the dark. She couldn’t tell the time. After the morning devotion, Moses went to put on the generator. She went to her room to wear her bra. She remembered her mother had asked her to always wear her bra if she didn’t want her breasts to sag. Moreover, her nipples seemed to be screaming, “see me!”

The day went on well. She talked with her cousins. Moses seemed to like her a lot. He was sweet and nice. He even offered to give her a feet massage. She found that it felt really nice having him press his thumb into her feet. She couldn’t help it when a moan escaped from her. He was startled. He asked if he had hurt her and she quickly shook her head while saying no. She didn’t want him to know that what he was doing to her feet got her aroused. She knew what it was to be aroused from all those novels and cheap magazines.

They had talked about funny experiences they had in school. Moses told her that he had been trying to get admitted into the university. He had spent four years at home. Zuri had told him that with time, he would get his good heart desires. Talking with Moses almost seemed like a chore to her. His command of the English language was so bad that Zuri stylishly decided to speak pidgin so he would reply in pidgin.

Life was nice. She wasn’t missing her mother as much as she thought she would. Her cousins had made it fun for her. They played card games. She knew she was going to miss them whenever she got home.

After the bellicose night prayer session that didn’t bear any semblance to conventional night devotion, she went to her room feeling the “hot anointing of the Lord”.

It was her second night at Osogbo. She was happy that she came here in the first place. The silence that enveloped the compound was blissful. Now, she could let her mind wander to many places. Unlike yesterday, it didn’t take long before she slept off.

She heard the hinges of the door creak as the door opened slowly. She knew she should have woken up. Something kept her on the bed. The sleep was divine. Nothing was going to pull her out of Dreamtown. She was going to enjoy the bliss.

When she felt the warm, callused palm caressing her inner thigh, sleep fled her. She knew she had to wake up to the invasion.

She woke. “Moses! What now?”

“Hey… relax. Now we can do it and no one will know.”

She was confused. She didn’t remember planning to do anything with him. She blinked and rubbed her eyes with her palm. It was dark and she couldn’t make out his face. She knew she wanted to sleep. “Moses, now, let’s talk tomorrow. Sleep is doing me, right now. We are still going out to the river, shey? And I don’t even know how to swim, sef.” she hissed.

“No… it’s the other thing.”

Grasping what he was saying was like trying to fetch water with a basket; Sleep befogged her senses. What’s he saying? Inch by inch, the palm caressing her leg seemed to move upward. This time, the sleepy haze abruptly cleared. She knew she didn’t make any other plan with her cousin. She sat straight in the bed and told him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”



That was when she felt his palm grope to her inner thighs. She slapped it hard. He suppressed a scream. She felt his breath on her face. He asked her hotly, “Why are you behaving as if you don’t know what I am talking about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, joor.” She hissed. She sat straight in the bed.

She felt his weight on the space close to her. His hand had moved away from her inner thighs and it had moved to her breasts. He grabbed it with a vengeance. She had taken off her bra. Her mother had told her that it wasn’t advisable to wear her bra while she was in bed. She’d said it caused cancer.

She felt a sharp pain. She bit back a scream. He squeezed her breasts tighter. She gasped from the pain it caused her. He chuckled softly, “And you say you dint want it? When I was romancing your leg you were enjoying it o. It’s now you now want to do as if you don’t want to do?”

Earlier in the day, she’d managed his poor command of English Language. It had made sense to her why he still hadn’t gotten admitted into the university. Right now, hearing him talk into her face was disgusting. His hands were still squeezing her breasts and she was fighting him off. She tried to shove him away to the floor but he didn't move. He was like a rock. If she’d known she’d have a rock-like invasion in the nearest future, she’d have done something homicidal. Alas! She didn't. How would she have known that reasoning with a man on fire was like pouring puny jars of water into a volcano?

A fierce struggle ensued and she threatened to scream. He in turn told her that if she made that mistake, he would tell his parents that she lured him. After all, this was his home: His parents would take his word over hers’. His mother would conclude she’s the agent that the devil planted to destroy her righteous son’s God-ordained destiny.

She felt trapped.

She knew she had to struggle. For some reason, she didn't want to hurt him. She was far too kind for her own good. She could have smashed the rechargeable lantern on his head. That thought had gone through her mind but she couldn't bring herself to do it. What if he died after she hit him in the head? She had read of stories like this in those cheap contraband magazines in her school. Was this how she was going to be a rape victim? She struggled to get out of his grasp. If only she could break free from his grasp, she would run to the door. She had heard that if a man were kicked at the lower part of his anatomy, he would be weak. She aimed for it. She couldn’t see the spot in the darkness. Her cousin had already straddled her. In what felt like a nanosecond, he ripped her panties.

Before she could form the next coherent thought, she felt the weight of his 20-year-old body pin her down to the bed. Lord, he reeked of the stench of dried sweat and post-pubescence. Revulsion made her cringe. His hand pinned both her hands to the bed above her head. She felt his mouth seek hers in the dark. She whimpered. She couldn’t help it when the tears streamed down her face. She pleaded with him. As she did, his mouth captured hers in a sloppy, dog-like slather-fest that was supposed to be a kiss. She was on the brink of barfing into his mouth.

With his right hand pinning her to the bed, his left hand deftly brought out his manhood. He roughly rubbed it against her. She felt it pulsate against her. She didn’t know how he was able to manoeuvre her to get the pillow from under her head. He covered her face until she thought she was going to be asphyxiated.

All at once, he impaled her in one thrust.

The pain imploded and seared through her. She screamed but it seemed as if the pillow trapped her scream in its foamy, cushiony essence. She felt him slowly and deliberately go out of her. He gasped in her ear. He made little sounds as if he were an animal caught in a trap. She didn’t know if she was to be happy that the worse was over.

She was caught off guard as Moses thrust into her again. She wasn’t expecting that. This time, he went deeper than he did the first time. The sobs wracked all through her body. Pain is like that enemy that understands that surprise is the best weapon in an attack; it’s more painful, more intense, when you don’t expect it.

TO READ UP ON THE CLIMAX OF THE STORY (the LGBT sex part), CLICK HERE :
https://thefemmemedia..com.ng/2015/11/becoming-zuri-pt-2.html

https://thefemmemedia..com.ng/2015/11/becoming-zuri-pt-3.html