The Real Prince Charming
copyright 2011 Faeriemage
What would you do for the promise of being set for life?

Some things in this world are easy decisions to make, and some on the other hand are not so easy.

I had always considered myself to be the consummate actor, able to play any role. Unfortunately the critics never agreed with me. They thought me wooden and lackluster. Or they thought me to be melodramatic and over exuberant.

The only thing they really agreed on was that they thought I stunk like week old beef in the hot Texas sun.

If you couldn't hear it, yes, I have a Texan accent. It doesn't usually come through in what I write, but listen closely, and you might just hear it.

Since few of you will remember me from the show, since even fewer of you watched it, I will take a moment to tell you a little about myself. First, let me assure you, that contrary to the rumors. . .you know what. I'll begin at the start of the tale and work my way from there.

I was married, and I loved my wife more than life itself. That was never more apparent than when I was looking down the barrel of my shotgun and considering how I was going to pull the trigger while pointing it at my head.

She was dead and the only thing in this world I wanted was to join her.

We wrote our own personal vows. We had promised that we would be joined for eternity. I told her I would never love another woman as long as I lived, and I intended to live up to that promise.

Some would say that I was too young to get married. Too young to know what love is. In my opinion, nineteen is not too young.

Sixteen isn't too young either.

The teen who was driving the vehicle that broadsided us was only sixteen. Aimee and I were both twenty three.

I visit him periodically to see how he's doing. I think he is more surprised by my change in circumstances than even I am.

So, back to me in a darkened apartment, my wife's clothing spread around me, the fifth of scotch empty on the floor, and the TV blaring in the other room in a probably futile attempt to drown out the gunshot.

That's when I heard the commercial. Everyone in the Dallas area will have heard it, as well as people living in any of the other sixteen markets where it aired, but for those of you who didn't hear it, I relate it here.

"Ladies! Reality TV producer Mark Shurtleff is looking for the most lovely single ladies for the opportunity of a lifetime. Do you have what it takes to be the next reality TV star? Do you want to be on a show similar to the Bachelor or Joe Millionaire? If you said yes then contact us now at the number 707-555-1432. Only the first thousand callers will have the opportunity to sit in a screening with Mark to see if you might just be the next reality TV star."

I admit. I was drunker than a skunk and as nervous as a whore in church when I made that call. Now, I have a natural tenor voice, and I played my share of female roles up on the boards, so I put on my best lady Macbeth, without the horrible British accent, and said, "I saw your commercial on TV and I was wondering if I might have been one of the first thousand callers."

"Miss, if you look anything like you sound, then there should be a spot for you. We are obligated to ask if you are now married, or if you are in a long term relationship and may become married within the next six months." The woman on the phone sounded like a bit of a hag. I imagined her to be overweight with wiry gray hair, and red lipstick.

"No, I'm not married, and I'm not in any sort of relationship at the present time."

"Perfect. What's your name, hun?"

"Your name?"

Name, name, name. . .crap! I looked at my DVD collection and the first thing that came to eye was my director's cut of Barbarella.

"Barb. . .ara"

"I need your last too name, honey."

Frantic I looked around, and there was my empty bottle of scotch on the floor. "Scott. My name is Barbara Scott."

"Ok, Barbara, I have an opening tomorrow at five, can you be here?"

"Sure, I can be there."

"Great, and wear something slinky and sexy. The producer will likely want to see how much fire you can ignite on the small screen." This last was said in a bored manner, as if she were reading from a script. For all I knew that is exactly what was happening.

It might have stopped there had I not lay back on the bed and felt my wife's clothing against my bare back. She'd loved the feel of satins and silks and I'd covered our bed with them for my final moments.

But what if I could keep them close to me for a longer period?

Well, this role would take more than just tossing on clothing, or I would look like nothing more than a man in a dress. It would take preparation.

My last role was in the film "Huguenot." I'm not surprised if you never heard of it, since I heard it ended up going direct to DVD. The reason I mention it is that I was required not to cut my hair during the entire two years we were filming. It was a contract thing. It was a bone of, mild, contention with my wife and I. She was upset that it had grown almost twenty inches in two years. So, after filming, I got it trimmed, but no more than that.

That was almost six months before this point, so my hair was just over two feet from root to tip.

That put it just below my shoulder blades.

Long hair, check. It needed some styling, but I could hit a salon tomorrow on my way to the audition.

Hmm, I had facial hair, so that would have to go. I went into the bathroom, and reached for my razor when another thought hit me. I'd have to shave my entire body if I wanted to make this work. Or, I could do something a little more daring.

I picked up the phone again, "Hello, Julia."

"Donnie? What's wrong?"

"I'm drunk as a skunk. I just contemplated shooting myself with my shotgun. I have an audition tomorrow at five."

"Ooookay. Donnie, you know that Aimee was a friend of mine. Why don't I come over. . ."

"No, I wanted to know if I could come in."

"Um, I only service women, Donnie."

I snickered at that, I don't know why. "I know that, Julia. I need to be a woman for my audition."

"Donnie. . ."

"I know. It sounds crazy, and it probably is, but I thought it would keep me closer to Aimee, and I'm drunk. Did I mention that? And so I figured that I'd get a full Brazilian, and. . .I don't know."

"Ok, look Donnie. I figure that you're to drunk to know what you're asking me to do, but if you haven't sobered up, and if you pay me $120 up front, then I'll give you the wax, for Aimee's sake."

"Okay, I'll come right over."

"My last customer leaves at three. Come in about three thirty."

"Okay, Julia." I giggled again.

I figured her sober comment for a challenge so I went and got my last fifth out of the fridge and I finished polishing it off about two thirty. When I couldn't find my keys for ten minutes, only to realize they'd been in my hand the entire time, I figured that it was time to call a cab.

I'd called for cabs a lot to get home because I was too drunk to drive, but this would be the first time I called for one to leave home because I was too drunk to drive.

I giggled at the thought and waited for the cab on the curb.

I was dropped off at Julia's, yes that is the name of her establishment, at three twenty five, and I went and knocked on the door.

I was amazed I was even upright after the amount of alcohol I'd consumed in the last twelve hours. She got me into the room, and stripped me down. I was so sauced that I either couldn't feel it, or I didn't care. She left me the hair on my head, and a landing strip.

I must have paid, as she performed her duty, although to this day I don't remember having done so. Then she bundled me out the back and up the stairs to her apartment, I presume to sleep it off.

I remember her making a comment about me having drunk too much to be useful to her. I made a joke about scotch being the anti-Viagra which she laughed at. I remember glancing at the clock and seeing that it was five before I lost all consciousness.

I woke up the next morning with no clear recollection of what I'd done, and feeling strangely comfortable in my own skin for the first time in a while. The bedding felt really nice on my skin as I got up to use the restroom.

I was standing over the toilet, still waking up, when I really looked down at my legs for the first time. The really looked good. I wondered what woman was standing in the bathroom with me.

I was still half asleep at this point, but I woke up quickly enough when I realized the woman in the bathroom was me.

"What in the heck did I do last night?"

"Not enough, Donnie."

Julia came into the bathroom wearing a smile. She had a gorgeous body, but I didn't have it in me to love her.

Then something occurred to me, "We didn't, I mean you and I weren't"

"No, we didn't, Donnie."

"Oh, thank god." I smiled in relief, "That would have been a mistake."

Her eyes flashed in anger and she began hitting me. "Get out of my house, you bastard. Get the hell out of my house."

I ran out of there in my boxers and undershirt. I left my wallet and everything else in her house. I turned to walk back up to get them and she threw my pants down the stairs at me.

I slipped on my pants, and walked barefoot to the nearest payphone.

Now, I had a splitting headache, and the sunrise that chose that moment to start did so maliciously. I squinted against the glare, and called a cab first, and then my favorite person in the world.

I had worked with him off and on since my first slasher film "Sorority House Murders III," as 'unnamed dead male teen number 14'. Or was it 15. It's been four years, and I don't specifically remember. There was some confusion on set about that as well. Hey, it was my first movie as an "adult".

He'd done an excellent job on my prosthetics though, and I really enjoyed sitting in his chair while he worked me over.

Karl had told me to come on over to his studio and they'd work me in.

The cab pulled up in front of the converted warehouse. I paid the cabbie and got out.

"Donnie, up for another role that they need to you come in makeup for?"

"You could say that."

I explained my plan from yesterday, what I remembered of it, and as I was telling him I had no idea why I was still going through with it.

"So, how heavy are we going?"

"You're the expert. I need to pass up close and personal. I have to look 'hot'. We have to be able to apply it quickly and it has to last, I figure, 24 to 36 hours at a time."

"Sounds like you want me to use Second Skin."

"Huh? Never heard of that before."

"You wouldn't. People are still married to foam rubber or latex or silicone. That and this stuff costs about eight thousand dollars per cubic foot."

I still had eighty thousand dollars in my bank account.

"I can cover ten cubic feet, anything beyond that. . ."

"With Second Skin we don't need to worry. It has been tested for up to six months continual use."

"It doesn't have to be reapplied?"

"The material lasts that long, even the edges. Not the glue."

I laughed at myself for that one.

"Basically, we use the right glue and you will be able to do pretty much anything except for go swimming. I have some ideas of glues that might even overcome that."

"So, what's the plan?"

"Well, we'll have to go with your breast forms from 'The Transsexual Stalker,' for today, I even have one of your bras from the movie. I can get sculpting for the Second Skin prosthetic right away. I have a life cast of your face and torso still, so I should be able to come up with something really good."

The breast forms he was talking about had been cast in silicone and matched my skin tone perfectly. They fit my chest wall like a glove thanks to the life cast of my torso, and in fact was the reason the life cast of my torso had been done. They had to look like my real breasts on screen, and you can even see about thirty seconds of 'nudity' with them fully exposed. For those of you with a morbid curiosity the scene runs from 1:21:42 to 1:22:11. I think it might even be on Netflix.

I even wore them home for a little role play with my wife during shooting once. That is one of my fonder memories with Aimee.

See, I wasn't worried about my top. It's the down below that worried me.

I was still worried about it when Ilene walked into the room. I had one on and one off at the time, and she did a double take of my body. "Damn, Darko, you had a lot more body hair the last time I saw you in that chair getting that prosthetic attached."

She is punishing like that. I think it was a reference to how often I got horror roles. I first met her when I played the monster in "Catastrophic Failure." Well, you know what I mean if you've seen the film. If you haven't then all I can say is: not my best work. She usually handles 'Special Wardobe.'

"Donni will need a gaffe, and if you could show him how to wear it."

"Sure think, honey."

They got married shortly after "Catastrophic Failure." Ilene was hands on like that. Not that she really thought anything of it, just that she liked to show rather than tell.

So, he attached the breast forms to my chest, and I felt their familiar weight again. Hey, I spent three years, off and on, filming that movie. When all was said and done I'd spend almost six months total wearing them.

The slightest smudge of makeup and the line completely disappeared. There wasn't even enough there to really transfer to my clothing. These, unfortunately, would be a one use appliance. Unfortunately the really good silicone prosthetics were all one use.

I slipped into my red satin and black lace bra and settled my babies in place. I was starting to feel it again, and let my hips gently way as I went in search of Ilene.

Now, I've since done a little research online, and there is little in common between what she fitted to me and the undergarment of the same name. They did the same job, but what she fitted onto me was a flesh-toned entrapment device designed to go seamlessly under another pair of underwear.

It went on, during which procedure I paid close attention so I could do it next time, and then slipped on a pair of satin panties that matched my bra.

I stepped out to go find a mirror. I was frankly a bit surprised, not that I should have been. I'd gotten a number of roles because of my effeminate looks.

My face was on that body, but it wasn't me. I felt myself becoming aroused, but the gaffe held everything in place with only minor discomfort.

"There's no way I'm letting you out of here in what you came in wearing. It would be indecent."

"I have just the thing for him, honey."

"Wait, I wanted to wear one of Aimee's dresses for this."

"That can come later, when you land the role. Ilene is right. We need you in something that kills them dead."

Words almost fail me when describing this dress, but I'll try. Black. It had a turtle neck that covered me to my jaw line, but left my shoulders and back. It had a keyhole in the front. It was long enough, barely, that it still covered my panties when I sat, but not from a shallow angle.

I was sad to take off the bra, as it was one of my favorites, but for that dress, I would do just about anything.

"What are your plans for face and makeup?"

"Well, I thought I would do my own makeup and then a salon for my hair."

"There's no way that Barb is going anywhere the first time without the full treatment." Kirk said.

"Um. What?"

"Look, two appliances will cost you between $12k and $18k. Professional make up application and training will cost you another $5K. Diction, speech, and behavior training another $5k. We might go with a little cosmetic surgery, like your Adam's Apple, but yours is hardly noticeable in the best circumstances, and it will require recovery time that we don't have. That could be a little expensive, but from my figures, worst case, that leaves you with more than $50k for the surgery."

"What are you going on about?"

"Look, do you want to simply enter this contest, or do you want to win it?"

"Well, I guess win it."

"Then you need to be the most feminine girl possible, period. You have to think woman, eat woman, be woman."

I thought about things I'd gone through in my life trying to prove I was a man. I thought about failed relationships and nights alone crying until I'd met Aimee, who actually asked me to marry her. Would it be so bad to be the woman for a while, or even to admit that it was more me than this male facade I'd presented to everyone else?

I took a deep breath and smiled, "Let's do this."

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of activity as Karl and Ilene called in the experts. I got crash courses in diction and poise. Walking in heels. My hair was impeccably styled, and my makeup was applied to perfection. At four we did last look in front of the mirror, and I was impressed. Really impressed. I didn't recognize myself at all.

Instruction on how to touch up my makeup were given and a leather clutch thrust into my hands.

Then I was out the door and into the back of Karl's car.

We drove over to the location where the audition would be, and realized that it was a cattle call.

"Crap, I'm not ready for this. I have no ID or guild number or anything."

"Look in the clutch."

You called in Giorgio didn't you?" I said looking at the contents.

Movies attracted some of the strangest people you would ever imagine.

Giorgio was unique even amongst all this variety. As far as I was aware I was the first person to use one of his props in a real life situation. Basically Giorgio was the guy that shows like CSI or Castle called when they wanted a realistic looking ID.

Giorgio also has a consulting job with the FBI teaching how to spot fake IDs and describing the processes used to create them.

I hadn't noticed them taking a photo of me, but there was Barb Scott looking back at me in a traditionally bad DMV photo.

They even gave me a new birthday to make me seem a little younger. Okay, I could work with that. I wear my heels to look taller, because I want to be noticed. I'm afraid of the notice at the same time. Texan to the soles of my shoes. Smart? Yeah, smart. No ditz here.

I walked in and the moment I started walking I became Barb. There would be no calls of cut here. I could not break character for a moment.

"I walked confidently into the building, and then stopped for a moment as if looking around. Act a little startled that there are so many people. . .yes, receptionist there.

Hmm, if that's the woman from the phone she is fairly good looking. Got the wiry gray hair and red lipstick though.

I walked up to her stopped for a moment waiting for her to notice me, and then cleared my throat softly.

She looked up, and then did a double take. "Hi," I said with what I hoped was a blinding smile, "I'm Barbara Scott? I had an appointment for an audition?"

"Hi, Barbara. I actually thought you were pranking me and were actually a drunk man."

I blushed at that, as it was in character, and I really was a bit embarrassed.

"Well, hey, people tell me that I sound like a fat old woman over the phone. I think you out-did me for difference in appearance. Look, after this is over, want to get a drink?"

My mouth dropped open a little.

"All the hot ones are hetero. Mores the pity. If you're ever curious. . .well, this is what's called a cattle cal, sweetie. Mostly their just going to want you to get up there and look pretty, but you've got that in spades, hun. They might want you to say something. If they do they'll ask you a question. Think of it pageant and realize that sometimes 'world peace' is the best answer. Better to look inscrutable than stupid."

I'd never had anyone help me this much at a cattle call before.

She must have seen my confusion and misread it, thankfully, because she continued. "Hey, don't worry, hun. You'll do fine. Just try not to make everything a question, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks for the help."

"You're welcome. Good luck, Barbara."

"I prefer Barb."

"Good luck, Barb. Heat through the door right there and get in line. They'll give you a number as you get closer."

I have to say that I felt sorry for everyone else the moment I stepped through the door. Not a single one of them had even close to the same preparation as I'd had. Most of them had thrown some little black dress from the dark recesses of their closet with their best three year old makeup and a scrunchie in their hair.

There were a few that showed preparation and a salon hairstyle.

There was only one other girl who I was worried about. That was because I could tell that she'd had professional help for today's meeting as well.

She was also the only other girl here who wore a backless dress. Hers was red though.

I ignored her as we wound our way back and forth through the studio until I was ten people away from the stage.

"You'll be 496."

"Thanks!"

"Don't mention it."

While the other girls were watching their competition, I did what I always did. I watched the judges. No matter what you call them, when you're at an audition you are being judged. The secretary, or receptionist, or whatever had given me some key pieces of information as well.

I read their body language, watch what they responded too. I had most of what I needed on my body. The rest would have to be my act.

"Next."

And I was up.

"Wow, there's a lot of you out there."

And then I flashed my smile. That smile would come to be one of the biggest draws that they had for the show.

"Ok, so 469, You're trying out for a show called the Real Prince Charming. Basically, what we're looking for is girls who look good on screen but also come across as being genuine. This is more than just a pairing contest, though. There will be sixteen men as well as sixteen women. Only one of these men is the catch he appears to be, and it will be through the choices the women make that will slowly eliminate them as well as the fake princes.

"How would you determine who the real prince charming was amongst so many?"

"Whether or not a man is a good catch is not about his appearance or the size of his wallet. It's about who he is as a person and how he treats others when he doesn't believe he is being watched. I would need to talk to him one on one, and listen to what the other girls thought of the matches."

"Anything else?"

Think fast, they're bored. . .

"You can tell a lot about a man by the way he kisses you, and how he treats you when you decline a kiss."

"Thank you 469, you may go."

That perked up their interest. It would also get me the nickname of the Ice Queen.

I headed toward the back entrance when I was stopped by one of the omnipresent techs and given an envelope.

I waited 'til I got outside before I opened the envelope. It was an invitation to be on the show, as well as a contract for my agent to look over and fax in. Should I choose to be on the show I was under a non-disclosure agreement until the show aired or a period of two years had passed from the date of the end of production.

Standard reality TV stuff. I was an alternate for Survivor a few years ago. As Donnie of course. No one decided to drop out before filming, mores the pity.

Filming would begin in two months. I opted for laser hair removal instead of plastic surgery.

Well, you all know what happened on the show, or at least most of you do. I'll give the short version for anyone who didn't catch "the scandal."

So, basically each week each of the girls tried to pick Prince Charming. They boys would go through a contest of one sort or another. You know, feeding the homeless, animal rescue, that sort of thing. They were on camera the whole time, but unbeknownst to most of us, so were all the girls when watching this. That was how they chose who would be eliminated. One or two girls caught on early, and tried to swing it to their advantage.

Anyway, the top 'winners' of the competition were safe from elimination, but we weren't told who won until after we made a pick.

The supposition was that Prince Charming would always win these contests of character.

So, we would be told who the top contestants were, and then who the bottom contestant was. I still laugh when I remember when Brianna, Katie, and Susan all picked Aaron when he was the 'bottom' guy in the contest. I found out later they'd been trying to eliminate Brianna that day, the other two just picked the wrong guy.

And I'm sure you all remember the scene where James grabbed me and jumped into the pool. That was one of the more scary moments of my life, and I didn't act my anger at him. I really thought I was undone.

So, I'm sure all of you remember how I picked Sean every time. That's because I saw his heart that first day before we began filming. A lot of the other guys were acting like prigs or prima donnas. Not Sean. He held the door for all sixteen of us, and thanked us individually for coming. Yeah, he really was that sweet.

The other girls kept seeing the chemistry between the two of us and steering clear. Each of them had their own agenda. Their 'plan' for the game.

I was letting the sweetest guy in the world woo me.

Since it never aired due to concerns about its content, I'll share the final choice with all of you. You can watch it on you tube, though, or hulu. If you remember we ended up with three girls and five guys.

Amanda, the girl in the red dress from the cattle call, chose James. She'd been having sex with him for the week prior to that, which they never let anyone know. I told her she was an idiot for giving it up which sparked our now famous catfight.

Tamara chose Colin. She's a lesbian by the way and had planned on telling that to Prince Charming if she ended up with him.

It was revealed that not only was Sean a nice guy, but a real prince.

I felt like such a heel revealing that I was a man. My statement shocked everyone and they demanded I prove it. They shut of the cameras at that point and I stripped.

Tamara actually asked me for my number. I think she liked the idea of a girl with a living dildo.

Oh, sorry, I've got to call this short. My husband just called me from the other room, and I think I've got exactly what he wants. I did get my surgery five months ago after all.

There's the rest of the story as used to be said on the radio. Oh, did I actually marry Sean as has been rumored all over the internet recently?

No, I married my real prince, Mark Shurtleff. How else do you think I scored the lead role in 'Sorority House Murders IV"?

It wasn't all for money. I do love him.

You've got to remember I'm not quite the cold-hearted bitch I was portrayed as on TV. I managed to keep my promise to my wife, and still find another love for my life.