©2020 - Foxxe Wilder

A typical day for a street musician takes a sharp turn into the atypical.

Damien was almost out of breath by the time he cleared the 2 blocks, constantly dodging vehicles and pedestrians along the way. He had no idea who those people were in the dark suits but he definitely didn't want to have anything to do with them. He already had enough problems with the body he was in.

He scanned the old hotel with his eyes, searching for an entrance that would be easy to get to. He wasn't too sure just how agile this body was and he was sure that he could feel it's pain if he pushed it too hard.

He spied a piece of plywood that had been wrenched open some time ago by some homeless nocturnal visitors. Smiling to himself he squeezed through the space and soon found himself alone, relatively safe in the livingroom of an abandoned main floor apartment.

There was dust everywhere as well as a few odds and ends tossed about in the building. On the longest wall of the livingroom was a rather long patch of graffiti art.

He recognized some of the names painted on there and smiled.

This place had definitely seen more than one small friendly nocturnal gathering.

He was alone. The events of the past half hour suddenly began to sink in.

He ran through it all in brief in his head.

There was the runners. A couple of them and for some odd reason Trace joined these runners.

Trace literally ran Damien over and thus knocking him completely off his feet.

Then Damien gets up, sees his own body running away and discovers he's now in Trace's body.

To make things more confusing, just after Damien realizes he's in a female body, some people in dark suits attempt to abduct him.

This sets him in terrified flight mode, forced to leave his precious guitar behind to save his own life.

Which all wraps up with him alone in the livingroom of an abandoned building.

He looked down at himself, this time taking in the moment now that he had an opportunity to collect his thoughts.

Any typical man would check out the boobs first and Damien was no different. He took a guilty peek down his own top at the two small fleshy mounds.

He recalled her voice, Trace's voice responded with ever word he spoke.

He looked up and cocked his ear, “Hello, I am Damien, or rather I used to be. Now I'm Trace.”

“Holy shit, it's exactly like her,” he said aloud, “Hmm that definitely was not very lady like, but then again I am pretty new at all this girl stuff.”

He ran his hands down his sides sliding down to the hips, “Wow, this really does feel,” he paused then continues, “ very different!”

His thoughts naturally centred for a moment on his groin area. He shook his head, and tried to put any thoughts of that area of his body right out of his head. Or was it really her head?

He growled, which despite his intentions actually ended up sounding more cute than menacing at all.
In any case, He intended upon holding off on discovering the groin later on and only if he had to.

He decided to take inventory of what he had on him.

Trace never carried a purse but instead she wore a waist pouch. It was far easier for her to deal with and it freed up her hands.

Damien unzipped the waist pouch around his waist and looked inside.

There was lipstick, a black eyeliner pencil, 4 tampons, 2 light pads, birth certificate, and other related identification. There was also eleven dollars and 35 cents, zig zag rolling papers, a fingernail clipper with nail file, a small brush and mini bic lighter.

“So I have ID anyways. Not that it will do any good if those assholes are still looking for me, but I am pretty well broke.” Trace's voice said.

“I'm going to have to try a disguise,” he said aloud, “this should be really interesting as I've never had to disguise a girl before!”

He walked into the bathroom. There was no running water in the building so the bathroom was not usable at all, save for the fact that it did have mirrored shower doors in the bathroom and they were in perfect shape, save for a light layer of dust.

He stood there in the bathroom just staring at his reflection.

“Yes, it definitely is going to take a while to get used to this,” Trace's voice pondered aloud, “of course I suppose it could have been worse. At least I kind of know her; I just wish we had mixed and mingled a bit more before this.”

He turned his back to the mirrors and looked over his shoulder with an amused smile, “It's not fair, I have this ass now and I can't see it very well at all!”

He sighed as he got serious. Trace was known for her pixie-punk look. Damien would have to totally abandon anything in that region if he wanted to be able to hide Trace's face from public scrutiny.

All he had to do was put on normal clothes and maybe get a wig until her hair grew in a bit more.

In his mind's eye he tried to picture Trace wearing something as simple as a pencil skirt with a classy top. Trace would never been seen in simple “peasant clothing” as she termed it. Such outfits were so totally devoid of taste for her.

Damien had never seen Trace with anything on but her normal pixie-punk tight outfits and she had always had that short hair. He'd never seen her in any other manner.

His mind's eye furnished him an image that caused him to feel a sort of twisted self pride.

The image he had in mind was one where Trace had shoulder length hair and the addition of other styles and adding colours to Trace's wardrobe would change how he looked so much that even the original Tracy Uxbridge wouldn't recognize.

Right now though he had very few options available to him. His apartment keys left with his body as well as everything he owned. Even if he could access his apartment, it would be a wasted effort as he owned nothing that would even remotely fit the tiny frame he had now.

No matter what he decided to do, it couldn't happen until after dark. He could always move around freely and safely at night and has for years and he was quite sure that he could pilot Trace's life through it as well.

By the time that dusk had set and Damien suddenly realized that he had no idea what size of clothes Trace wore. That was going to be a problem that he had to solve quickly. He desperately wanted to try to get Trace's face to disappear.

Damien went back into the bathroom utilizing the last dying embers of light in the building.

“Hmm. Maybe I can start with something simple,” Trace's voice announced.

Damien Took off Trace's leather jacket and looked at the mirror critically.

“Hmm, If I comb my hair with a slight part.” he mumbled as he adjusted Trace's hair.

“I definitely need to reduce makeup use and change the style.” he smiled.

I could at least get a good start like this, but I will need some new stuff real fast,” he sighed

Damien looked around the apartment. Trace's leather jacket was expensive and he didn't think it would be right if he just tossed it away. No, he could find a safe place to stash it away and return for it later. But where?

After searching the room for almost a half hour he discovered a few loose floorboards near the corner of the room. There was just enough room beneath to hide the jacket safely.

He pulled an old pile of boxes over the floor boards to disguise his stash spot and turned to the window. By peeking out a small crack he could see outside.

The sun had set and darkness had fallen, which afforded him a bit of cover. He had to get out and soon.

He had been hiding in the abandoned building now for just over three hours and hunger was beginning to make it's presence known. He had to go for it.

He slipped out past the plywood and stepped into the night.

He had to replace Trace's signature waist pouch too. Sure a lot of people wore them but it was a major part of Trace's look and Damien didn't want to be recognized as Trace at all. He needed someone to help him out, but who did Trace and Damien have in common that they both knew?

Damien checked the town clock far overhead. It was just past seven pm, there was a Value Village just down the street a few blocks and there was just over eleven dollars at hand. It wasn't much but it was a start.

He took off at a quick walk, not too slow nor nothing so fast as to attract unusual attention. He kept it at a decent pace and was soon turning into the store.

Internally Damien cringed. He was out in public as a girl. Within him his very manhood screamed in terror.

He glanced down at himself for a moment, taking in what he had to deal with and started to make his plans when he felt someone tapping on his shoulder.

He turned around to find Shadoe, an old friend of Damien's smiling at her, “Hey Trace, what brings you here?”

Shadoe was a small built girl, native North American and very pretty. She had a style all of her own though. Everything she owned was black, all her clothes even her hair was naturally black

Damien's mind went into hi speed.

“What the hell? Shadoe recognizes me? She knows Trace?” he wondered silently as he assessed the situation.

“Oh well,” he started, “I got nervous with all the guys in those dark suits running around.”

“Oh yeah they were grabbing people left, right and centre! Basically, if you ran, they nailed you.” Shadoe replied, “and they did get a few of us. I saw you toke off just after Damien took off like that. I never saw that coming though. Damien would never just leave his guitar like that. Something was definitely wrong,”

Shadoe continued, “Apparently you did get away though. Damien didn't, but when I saw them grab him, it was like he had gone insane! He was babbling in what sounded like Chinese!”

Damien felt his eyes begin to tear up, “What? They got Damien?”

“Oh yeah and trust me he didn't go quietly either. I've never seen him so violent before. That was definitely not the guy I've known for the past 4 years now. No, not at all. So how did you get away?”

Damien smiled and recounted his encounter with the dark suits. Shadoe laughed at how Damien eluded them by doubling back.

“Where did you ever learn a trick like that from?” Shadoe laughed.

“Oh, well,” Damien replied as coyly as he could, “I suppose I watch a little tv every so often. I thought it would come in handy dodging guys. You know.”

He winked at Shadoe and they both giggled.

“Anyways,” he continued, “I came here because I want to be able to disappear for a while. Those dark suits will more than likely still be looking for me, so I need to disappear. And in this case, fashion is my friend.”

“Not in your case kiddo!” Shadoe laughed, “you have a style all your own!”

Damien smiled, “look who's talking!”

“Well big sister is here to help you. We can get a few little things here but I have an entire second bedroom in my apartment that I devote to clothes,” Shadoe beamed while obviously eyeing Damien up and down, “and we're about the same size. I'm a little bigger up top but we can work around that. It's no biggie.”

“Hey,” Damien smirked, “don't get personal!”

They both broke into giggles once again.

They spent a few hours both trying on clothes and Damien getting 3 tops and Shadoe kicked in an extra twenty dollars to get a few skirts and pants for Damien.

“You'll need to totally remove yourself from who you used to be and that means wearing things you've never considered before,” Shadoe told Damien, “Now take the money, you can always pay me back whenever you can.”

Damien looked at the pile of clothes, then back at Shadoe for a moment, then, in a burst of pure emotion, Damien hugged Shadoe tightly, “You have no idea what this means to me. I really needed this help. As of today I really can't go back to who I used to be.”

“Wow, how true can you get?” Damien smirked inwardly.
He couldn't allow any suspicion to fall upon him. If word got out that a certain Tracey Uxbridge was acting unusual those assholes in the dark suits would be back.

He would have to start thinking, acting and actually being Trace. No, not Trace as the dark suits were looking for her. He would have to become Tracey Lynn Uxbridge.

“Wait,” he wondered suddenly, “how the hell did I know her middle name?”