Mug Shot
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Do you have a sister, Emmet?” said Wade. “Because the girl getting all the hype on “Mug Shot Babes” sure looks like she could be related to you?”

Wade was one of those guys who goes out to a bar with his pals and picks up his phone and takes no notice of anything but that 6 inch screen. Emmet was talking to Jason, but he glanced across at the image Wade was holding up, and he froze. He recognized the image immediately. I was him – dressed as Elizabeth. For a moment his blood ran cold and seemed to be paralyzed, but he could not show it. He pulled himself together.

“No. I don’t have a sister. I don’t know her.”

“Well, this guy wants to hire her, just based on this mug shot. That what it says on the chat underneath,” said Wade. “He says that this girl has just the look he needs for some photo shoot or something. Imagine that – off of a mug shot? Crazy world – huh?”

“What site? “Mug Shot Babes” you say?” Jason was interested, but Emmet did not want this image being further examined.

“Forget it, man. What do you care,” he said.

“I am just checking to see how that kind of image gets out there,” said Jason, taking the hint and putting his phone away without clicking on the site.

“The police hand over the photos, I guess,” said Wade. “Just the pretty ones. No names or details. She sure is a looker this one, except for the slight resemblance to Emmet here!”

“Would you put the fucking phone away!” Emmet demanded. “Are we drinking, or what? What the fuck is wrong with you, Wade?”

Wade also took the hint. It seemed that the whole thing had been buried for the evening, but the thought of it haunted Emmet.

It was only when he got home, despite the late hour that Emmet went online and searched for “Mug Shot Babes”. There he was, dressed up as Lizzie, looking at the camera with a mixture of guilt and defiance – a bad girl caught in the act.

But what act? He had just been out walking as he did sometimes, just to wear something nice and feel the summer breeze waft across his freshly shaved legs up his silky dress to his restraining panties; just to hear the sound of his heels clicking on the sidewalk; just to feel a lock of his blonde wig drop into his face so the he could stroke it away with a painted stick-on finger nail; just to taste the lipstick on his lips. What is wrong with that? Why stop him?

“Suspicion of solicitation,” the officer said. “It’s still a misdemeanor in this city.”

“I’m a guy,” he had said, as if that was the complete defense.

“Half of you girls are these days,” said the cop. “And you are the ones who solicit harder than the real ones.” There seemed to be no bitterness in his voice, just an acceptance of the real world where he did his work.

So, it would have been just a warning had it not been for the joint in the handbag. Somehow the whole experience of dressing as her was enhanced by taking a few drags of good quality weed, but that was why he was hauled down to the station and had his photo and fingerprints collected.

“There will be no penalty, but we are building a database,” the sergeant told him. “Just practice safe sex, OK?”

It was not about sex, but there was no sense in saying it. It was about being Lizzie and being free of being a man. Since Emmet had discovered the joy of it, he found himself doing it more often than he should. It seemed as if Lizzie had always been a part of him, but now she was demanding more time, and it was getting awkward. When the other guys wore shorts, he had to cover his legs. He was always checking to see that no trace of Lizzie remained on Emmet’s plain body and face.

He never saw the mug shot until he saw I there on that website, with all the comments underneath, including all the comments by Anton Fistonich.

“If this is an image of your face then I want to hear from you! I am a talent scout for one of New York City’s most famous modelling agencies and our most successful models have become millionaires. We will happily pay a sum in advance and put you through a training program, provided that your body is as good as your face. Please send you contact to the email below.”

There were follow up messages from this guy pleading for a response. Interspersed with comments about Lizzie and several indecent propositions. Only one abusive comment among all the chat.

Emmet looked at the image. It was Lizzie and he had done better. The wig was a blunt cut bob over his long shaggy mop drawn up into a skull cap. The facial shave was as close as ever, helped by his lack on any strong beard, and the foundation and coloring nicely understated. The eyebrows were brushed with care (plucking a man could never do), and the long lashes were his own, just heavily mascaraed and highlighted with eyeliner top and bottom. The lipstick was a nice shade – sexy but not overly loud and well applied with lip liner. She didn’t look like a whore. Why had she been pulled over? She was a pretty girl out for a walk.

Emmet realized that Lizzie was attractive, perhaps enough to do some modelling. His only concern was that she be feminine, but she was more than that. But he could understand what this Anton saw in his image. It was Emmet trying to look through the pretty face for the policeman behind the fixed camera. It was his “I’m a guy in a dress, get over it” look. It was challenging and defiant, and captivating … on a woman’s face.

But he was not her. He was him. He worked driving a forklift at a big warehouse downtown. It was supposed to be just an interim job, but he had been there too long. He thought about quitting every day, because the pay was shit. But he couldn’t, because the pay was shit and his wallet was empty.

So, what about Lizzie? Could she have a future? At the very least it seemed that checking it out was harmless enough. Rather than go onto the site he googled “Anton Fistonich model” and the results came up immediately. There was an office number to call, but could Emmet do a feminine voice. It was not something he did often, but he had tried before, just in case she was spoken to on one of her “outings”.

“My name is Lizzie, Lizzie Dunn, and I am not proud to say it, but I was last week’s Mug Shot Babe.”

“Oh yes,” the receptionist said. “Mr Fistonich will want to talk to you. I can have him call you. Just let me have your number.”

Once Emmet had given her that he found himself staring at his phone wondering how he should answer it. What happens if it is somebody who is calling him, not her? When the call came he just swiped to answer and waited.

“Hello. Is that Lizzie? Have I got the right number?”

“This is Lizzie,” her voice said.

“I guess you know that I have been looking for you and I may be able to offer you a unique opportunity, and a chance to make a lot of money. Can we meet? Can you come to my office? Or can we meet for coffee or for lunch somewhere that you feel comfortable?”

“I can’t do it today,” said Lizzie, looking down at Emmets drab body. “I could meet you for lunch tomorrow, somewhere near Independence Bridge?”

The thought had come into Emmet’s head that not far from the Bridge was “Super Femme – the Feminization Boutique”. He had never been, but he knew that they offered a full makeover for people like him. If he was going to pull this off, he would need help.

“The Independence Hotel then,” said Anton. “Tomorrow 12:30 in the Riverside Restaurant. I can’t wait to meet you.”

But the moment that the last words of the exchange were said and the phone was off, Emmet was looking at his wallet and wondering what foolishness this was. He was, after all, a man. He was permanent loner and an occasional cross dresser, but definitely male. He was not a model. This was not his big break – this was a fantasy that would explode in his face.

What he needed was another opinion. Could he pass as female, even if only over a free lunch? It seemed to Emmet that the person best qualified to make that decision was fairly close at hand.

But they needed to see him in the flesh. He made his way as quickly as possible to the Boutique “Super Femme” before it closed for the evening.

A lady greeted him at the door. She was not young but carried her maturity with style. It was doubtful if she had ever been pretty, but with the application of skill she was more than attractive. She was confident and welcoming, and greeted Emmet warmly.

“My name is Megan,” she said. “Or Meg will do.”

“I need your help,” said Emmet. “I am not sure that I have ever dreamt this, but maybe it could be a dream come true. I just need to know if I have a chance.” He told Meg the whole story, and showed her the mug shot on the website.

“So that is Elizabeth? What a defiant expression,” said Meg.

“I was angry,” said Emmet. “I hadn’t done anything wrong.”

“Perhaps he is looking for a bad girl,” said Meg. “We can show him that, but also show him your innocent and vulnerable side. Models need to have more than one persona. Yes, if you come in early tomorrow then by lunch Elizabeth will be ready to face this man.”

“My only problem is that I only have about 100 dollars,” said Emmet. “I will have to do this on credit, if you will allow it?”

“It will be an added incentive for you to convince him to take you on,” said Meg with a smile. “I never do this kind of thing without payment, but your story makes you the exception. All I ask is that you do everything I say, and that means getting waxed tonight, so any inflammation will be gone by tomorrow.”

So, Emmet started his transformation that very night, and then, after sleeping between plastic sheets covered in moisturizing solution, he reappeared in the morning carrying a bag of Lizzie’s clothes.

“I think that we should use your own hair rather than a wig,” said Meg. “I have thinking about it and I think that with all that long hair you comb back I can cut a blunt bob that can be parted in the middle or on the side. It would be unmistakably feminine, and so will your eyebrows after I have shaped them.”

Emmet realized what she was saying. This would be hard to hide. Only a buzz cut and shaved brows would do that. He was already in debt to her for the waxing. She was holding him to his promise.

“Go for it,” he said.

“And start talking in the higher register we practised last night, assisted by those squeals.” Meg was referring to his discomfort at losing his body hair, but it had settled down now. In fact, his smooth skin felt good, especially as he was wearing some of Lizzie’s underwear beneath his track suit.

“This hairstyle you will be able to grow out if you get the job,” said Meg, getting to work washing his hair. “But now we need to talk about hormones. I am not suggesting that you go on them before your interview, but if you are hired you will need to suppress your male chemistry and get used to the female kind.”

He had a moment of concern, but he dealt with it by telling himself that being able to live as Lizzie full time was a fantasy – it was unlikely to happen.

“I took your measurements last night and I have arranged to have a body shape that will fit you delivered here,” said Meg. “It is of some kind of plastic material and has breasts and a restraint in the crotch, and even some hips.” She went about her work efficiently.

Meg finished the hair and makeup and presented the new Elizabeth to the mirror.

“Wow,” said Lizzie. “I wasn’t expecting to look this good.”

“Watch that voice,” snapped Meg. “And when you lift up your hands be careful to avoid male gestures as I told you. The hard part starts now – you have to be able to act like the woman you appear to be. We will practice walking, and sitting and standing, and how to use a hand bag and it’s contents.”

A parcel arrived and Lizzie went to the back of the salon to put it on behind a screen, but Meg was with her to give directions – “Get that awful penis thing tucked away. Luckily I waxed all that pubic hair away as well! Now you can put that underwear back on and get dressed. We are running out of time. We need to go for a coffee next door and run you through proper table behavior.”

Lizzie was slightly irritated but nevertheless grateful for the guidance. She told Meg so.

“I have an investment in you,” said Meg, but the stern expression could not hide her smile of satisfaction. “I have toted up what you owe me, and you will have to walk a few runways to pay me back!”

“You have allowed me a chance at this – I won’t forget it,” said Lizzie, as she walked out the door.

The last hour spent at the coffee shop next to the salon had left Lizzie arriving a little late in arriving at at the Riverside Restaurant of the Independence Hotel, but the walk had given her confidence. She had received admiring glances from both men and women. When she approached the maitre d’ she felt fresh and excited.

I am here to meet Mr. Fistonich,” she said in her new voice.

Anton rose as they approached, saying – “Miss Dunn, you look so much better in the flesh.” He took her hand gently, but Lizzie responded by shaking it firmly. He motioned her to sit.

“I looked terrible that night,” said Lizzie. “It was a misunderstanding. I was not charged with anything. It was a dreadful breach of privacy having those images go public.”

“Let’s see if we can’t turn that misfortune into advantage then,” said Anton. “Lunch is my treat. Chose what you like from the menu. Perhaps a cocktail or a glass or wine?”

“I am hungry but it is not my habit to drink … during business luncheons,” said Lizzie. She was going to say “it is not my habit to drink during the day” but she thought the words she used were more business like even though neither Lizzie or Emmet had ever attended a business luncheon. Anton seemed impressed.

“I like your style already,” said Anton. “And I can see where the spirit in you that was so obvious in that mug shot. I am sorry to refer to it, and I won’t do it again, but it is personality that I am looking for. Pretty faces and tall slim bodies are easy to find, but character is harder to find. I can see you have that, and I am ready to offer you a contract immediately. I believe a meal is always better enjoyed after the deal has been done. Don’t you agree?

Lizzie was dumfounded, but also a little worried.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she said. “You haven’t even seen my body. Perhaps it will disappoint you?”

“When it comes to clothes bodies are just coat hangers,” said Anton. You have height, slim hips and great legs. Everything else is cut and padding. You have a job, Lizzie – if you want it.”

“Yes please,” said Lizzie. “Perhaps I might have that cocktail after all.”

It was after the contract was signed but before the first shoot that Lizzie told Anton her secret, but by that time they had met several times, including going out for dinner.

“I have a secret that I need to tell you,” said Anton, seemingly taking her news in his stride. “I actually have a love/hate relationship with women. In my business I surround myself with beautiful girls and I truly adore and appreciate all things feminine, but women drive me crazy. In the short time I have known you I knew that you were different. Of course – it now makes sense – you are a transwoman. There are others like you in the modelling world, but it seems that the thing that attracts me to you are those male traits of even temperedness combined with a hint of aggression. Don’t get me wrong, I am heterosexual, so I find myself drawn to the woman in you.”

Lizzie was about to protest that she was not transgender at all – she was just a crossdresser living a crossdresser’s ultimate fantasy, just for a while. But in that moment she started to doubt the truth of all that. She was just too comfortable in this job and in his company, and she found it strangely pleasing to hear that he was heterosexual, and that he was drawn to her.

“The woman in me is still developing,” she said.

“Let me help you with that,” said Anton.

A few months later Wade and Jason met at their usual haunt, now just the two of them.

“I just can’t understand how Emmet could just disappear the way he did,” said Jason. “Just the text message that he had a new job across town and wishing us all the best. It just seemed weird.”

“Not half as weird as this,” said holding up his phone and the image of a beautiful woman on it. “Is this that mug shot babe we showed to Emmet just before he shot off? Man, she sure is pretty, but looks so much like him, don’t you think?”

The End
4000

Eva’s Seed: “Man is arrested for possession of a few grams of weed when in drag. His mug shot makes him out to look like a beautiful woman, which he initially finds funny. But after a few weeks the mug shot is leaked online and a Twitter account where mug shots of beautiful people are posted causes an internet hype to find the ‘most beautiful arrestee of the month’. The man finds it funny until a modeling agency offers a contract to the woman in the mug shot. After the arrest his boss fired him, as the company had a zero policy for drugs, even as minor as weed despite it being allowed in his home state. So without a job and getting desperate for money, he decides to give the modeling agency a call. Ultimately he transitions full-time as a woman. Not a top model, but it pays the bills. –