Doppelganger
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Part 1

When Jason Vine first came face to face with Brigid Ardell it was a strange and unsettling experience. It was not least because of how the meeting had been arranged. He was doing amateur night at the drag club, encouraged by his roommate Darryl, an avid cross-dresser, and supported by his girlfriend Katie. It was she who suggested that he dress as a secretary and play a typing pool sketch to Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” wearing office clothes and understated makeup. Darryl would have preferred something more flamboyant. But it was well received, in particular by the man who approached Jason afterwards and asked to take his photograph in costume.

It was that same man who later contacted Jason through Darryl (who had slipped the man his number) with “a business proposition proposed by my employer”. Ever mindful of the need to make a better living than he did, Jason agreed to the meeting and was collected by a limousine the following evening. They drove to the edge of the city and into a gated compound up a drive to a large house. It all gave him reason for optimism, which had been a rare thing in his life to that point.

Across the large desk in a modern office within an old house, sat a woman, a little older than Jason and by her demeanor, clearly the owner of everything around her. She carried with her a sense of power and dominance that was palpable, but that was not the unsettling thing. What had Jason a little out of sorts was that she was the spitting image of the face he had seen in the mirror on amateur night.

“When Thomas here told me that he had found my doppelganger and that it was a man, I have to say that I was a little insulted,” she said. She did not bother to introduce herself before she spoke. She just saw the puzzled expression on his face, and she wanted to tell him that she understood why.

“Your what?” he said. He did not understand the word she had spoken, even though it seemed clear what it probably meant.

“Doppelganger,” she said. “My double. Somebody who looks so like me, or could look so like me, that nobody could tell us apart. Thomas showed me the photograph of you. Of course, you are not dressed as a woman today, but the face I am looking at is well known to me if it is not known to others. I see it in the mirror every morning, before I put my makeup on.”

She was referring to the fact that she was now wearing heavy makeup, and from his short experience with drag Jason could understand how she used highlights and blusher to reduce the heavy features of her face. Under the makeup she might be said to have a somewhat masculine face, just as Jason might be said to have a somewhat feminine face. But the fact is that it was the same face. With the same makeup as she was wearing Jason would look exactly like her.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked. She did not seem surprised at his blank stare. “I am Brigid Ardell, the owner and chief executive of Ardell Dynamics, perhaps you have heard of my company.

“Yes,” he said. “It has grown very large very quickly, and you must be very rich?”

“I am,” she said, with evident satisfaction. “And I am also very busy. Thomas here has heard me complain many times that I need to be in 3 places at once. I have even suggested that I need to clone myself to get anything done around here, but I suppose that might tell you that I am overly controlling and have an inability to fully delegate. I am not going to deny either of those things.”

“He told me that you might have a business proposition,” said Jason.

“Good,” she said. “Get to the point. I like you already. I want to offer you a job, Jason. I cannot get a clone, but for what I need, you will be perfect. I need another me, you see?”

“I am not sure that I am what you …”, Jason stopped. He was intrigued. “I already have a job. Would this be full time or just helping out when needed?”

“It would be full time, and if you perform, I could make it permanent. I would make it worth your while. I would not expect you to keep your day job even though your work would be mainly in the evenings and weekends. You see, you have skills that I lack in some areas.”

“I am not sure what you are talking about?”

“Thomas tells me that you engage with people easily and you tell jokes, and that you relish a crowd. I don’t. I am a serious person, Jason. I am serious about making money and building something, but to do that I need to be a social person too, and I am not really that. Thomas was impressed, although what he was doing at a drag show is something he may have to explain later.”

“Can I say that you dress well and seem ready to face the public.” Jason was admiring her clothes and her hair, and the makeup was flawless. Given her heavy features she really did look very attractive – at least to his (perhaps biased) eye.

“I do try,” she said. “Vanity and power are the same thing. They depend on what people think of you. You are only attractive if people are attracted to you. You are only powerful if people know that you are. But recently I find myself becoming a celebrity. It is part of the game that I must play. You can’t be a reclusive billionaire anymore. I need to get out. But I don’t like social events, and more importantly, I don’t have time. I need you to be me.”

“I am a man,” said Jason.

“That can be fixed,” she said. “Thomas said that you do voices. He said that your body can be made to appear like mine. You have hair, which is good, because a wig will not do. As I said, you will need to quit your day job, or take leave.”

“I am not sure they will let me.”

“Who do you work for? I’ll buy the company,” she said. “I want you. I will pay for everything. Oh, and by the way, you will have to move in here. We can never be seen in 2 places at the same time. That needs to be strictly controlled.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You will,” she said, and she was right.

Part 2.

It was an offer too good to refuse so Jason did not refuse it. It would be a trial period of two months, extendable. There would be nothing more onerous than to submit to some beauty treatments and hormone shots. Hormones would scare most men, but not Jason. He knew from some of the “girls” at the drag show that a short period of time on hormones could be good for the skin and could prevent erections, which could be embarrassing in the middle of a show. Short term they presented no danger to a person’s masculinity. Any changes would be some way off, and if they happened they could be undone long term, with surgery if necessary.

The same with the waxing. It is not permanent as most transwomen and many cis-women could confirm. But it would help him (now her) to stay whisker-free for the period of the contract. The hair extensions were essential. Brigid was proud of her hair and would never wear a wig, and fortunately Jason’s scalp just needed a small nip and tuck to match her hairline. This was done by a licensed “trichologist” under local anaesthetic – it hardly seemed like a major procedure.

Oddly Jason’s nose was a little smaller than Brigid’s but with her makeup you would never know it except in profile. Nothing was required there.

The greatest ask was that Jason should have breast implants, but Brigid withdrew the requirement for that for the trial period.

“I like being a woman in business and I am happy to show off my breasts in the boardroom, so I would do it at social engagements too,” said Brigid. “As a crossdresser you will know that fakes can never be hidden. You simply have nothing to work with there. Perhaps you can spend a few weeks without them, but we need to schedule the surgery. If there is an extension to our arrangement then implants would seem like a good idea – they are reversible. And then of course, a permanent posting would require further surgery … down there.”

Jason was not sure if she was joking but felt it wise to say something. “There won’t be any permanent changes. No money is worth that.”

“It is up to you,” she said. “I am just talking about concealment, not castration. Again, such a thing is reversible. If you want permanent employment, you just have to ask.”

Even going as far as this meant a serious discussion with his girlfriend Katie.

Katie was shocked. She said – “How could you think of doing this? It is going to drive us apart. Is it even legal?”

“Plenty of people use body doubles,” said Jason. “As for us, I am doing this for the money. It will probably not last long, but for the money she is offering, even the initial contract will be a big payoff. Hey, Katie, I can quit at any time but let’s make some money and take that trip to Europe we talked about. In the meantime, you can come and see me at her estate any time. I just can’t go out other than as her while I look like her. You understand this – right?”

Katie was thinking about that trip to Europe. Jason was thinking of other ways to spend a large amount of money.

Part 3

“How are you feeling?” said Thomas. He looked genuinely concerned.

“Sore,” said Jason. “My skin over these breasts seems super tight. I am starting to wonder if I am being paid enough.”

Thomas laughed, but suddenly stopped as Jason pulled back the folds of his robes to show the surgeon’s work.

“There is cream here on the dresser for you to rub in to relax the skin,” said Thomas. “Would you like me to apply some?”

Jason looked at him and the look on Tom’s face made him smile. They had grown to be friends over the past months as they both lived on the estate and were at Brigid’s beck and call. They were male colleagues at the beginning, but there had been changes in the past few weeks and Jason could see that these were more unsettling for Tom than they were for him. Tom was staring at the breasts as if wondering if he should touch them or not.

“I don’t want this to be weird for you, pal, but I can’t see the scar unless I am in front of a mirror … would you?”

There was a part of Tom that wished he hadn’t offered, but the part that wanted to touch that smooth and developing body dominated. He had been watching the changes with a degree of fascination verging on wonderment. In part it was the incredible ability of hormones to effect the changes to the the skin, making it so soft and keeping hair from reappearing. In part it was watching the small changes in behavior whether from chemistry or training, that had turned Jason into the woman he now called “Jaz” simply because that seemed better than Jason. And then there was that eerie resemblance to the woman he had been working for all these years, but not her. A warm version of her. An approachable version, as the cream against her skin now showed.

“Careful, it is sensitive around the scars … and around the nipples too, but it a different way,” said Jaz. “Are you sure you are OK with this?”

“Hey, we need to get these tits softened up to be cupped into a low cut ball gown next Saturday,” said Tom. “There is no way she wants to attend that. It will drag on, and she says that you are much better at smiling and taking shit than she is.” He grinned, but was careful to stay away from the nipples.

“Yes, I am hopeless with anything technical, as she knows, but we have worked out a system now. Jaz now adjusted seamlessly to her voice as he had perfected it – “The after hours me is entirely a different creature … a party girl in fact – wouldn’t you agree, Thomas?”

It seemed the right time for Tom to finish his chore by briefly touching Jaz’s nipple, make her start, and then smile.

“It’s like having two penis heads on your chest,” said Jaz. “And now Kurt wants me out of this makeshift surgery and on one of his security runs.”

The makeshift surgery was a wing of the main house on the estate, and a security run was to take Jaz as Brigid through the public eye to some other spot so that the compound would be ignored and Brigid could have a higher degree of flexibility. It was not part of the job as outlined but it was becoming more common. Brigid was enjoying her doppelganger and starting to take full advantage.

More than that, Jaz’s social skills had seen her star rise even higher. Brigid was in demand, even receiving invitations to appear on late night talk shows. On the one that she did attend Brigid had decided that it should be her, but it had not been a success. He imperious bearing and lack of patience with questions had come across badly. She had decided to decline the other offers in favor of press releases and scripted presentations.

But in less formal social settings Brigid shone – only because it was not Brigid.

Part 4

This particular event had been out of town so the Ardell party had booked three suites in the hotel where the formal dinner had taken place. That dinner had been preceded by a conference at the close of which Brigid Ardell had given a speech, but that was Jaz. Jaz had followed the transcript but could not resist departing into a couple of spontaneous jokes that had gone down well. It had been a huge success, which was just as well because Brigid had taken a lot of convincing. It was just that it had to be the same person making the address and mixing afterwards and it should not be her.

Back home where she was happier, she was relishing the reports coming in about the witty and sociable Brigid Ardell – new titan of industry but with style, heart and femininity. That had to make her smirk a little. If only they knew that the Brigid they were falling in love with was concealing a penis. How ironic.

But she had work to do, and her doppelganger also had labors ahead of her, at the dinner table. She did not envy her doppelganger – the one Tom now called Jaz.

Back at the function, Tom stuck close to Jaz and had to serve as dinner partner for the night, being seated close to her but between two other women. He felt awkward not being closer but he had charm was able to engage with other dinner guests. But not quite as well as his charge, who chatted gaily.

It was only when dinner was done, and a band struck up that he was able to get back to the woman he was there for – Jaz as Brigid.

“You had better dance with me then,” she said. “Close enough to whisper anything you have learned but not too close in case they think that an employee is getting a little too fresh with his lady boss.”

He smiled and took her hand.

“Brigid has called me a few minutes ago, and she says she is very happy with you,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair was up in an ornate do and she wore jewelled drop earrings that his lips needed to avoid. She had looked stunning all night and he had listened to all the comments from admirers he had drawn close enough to throughout the evening.

“Am I better than the real thing,” she whispered back.

“You know you are!” He let his nose touch her ear and he could feel her hand that held his, as if a small charge of electricity had passed from her ear through her body to her head and back to him, closing the circuit. It would have gone through her heart, he thought. What did that mean?

“It's actually very late,” she said. “I think that we have been dancing for a while. The numbers seem to have thinned. Perhaps we should call it quits for the night?”

“You’re the boss,” he teased.

He escorted her upstairs and even used her key to unlock the door and push it open. He stood there for a moment, because she did not step inside immediately. She was looking at him and it was clear that she wanted something. He knew what it was before she even said a word.

“Why don’t you come inside for a little?” she said.

She stepped in and he followed. His mind was racing. What did this mean? What was to happen now? It seemed wrong and yet somehow right, to be alone with a gorgeous woman who was a man under that dress.

“I should have asked for your help to get this dress on,” she said. “I struggled earlier. How do women do it. I think they need a man to help them into a dress like this … and out of it, too. Would you mind?”

She had turned her back to him to expose the long zip. He steadied his hands before slowly dropping the zip almost all the way down to her shapely bottom. The dress fell away. He could not resist running a finger down the line of her perfect spine.

“Unclip my bra, would you?” she said, almost choking a little. That fell too. She turned around, her exquisite breasts there for him to see and touch, now soft and relaxed, and entirely natural. “Now, kiss me,” she instructed.

That was natural too. She was a perfect woman, dressed only in panties and high heels. And he was a man. Their lips met. The spark of electricity hinted at on the dance floor was now a lightning bolt, filling them both full of energy demanding release, and requiring furious action to get there. They groped and fondled and found the bed, and he tore at his own clothes to meet her naked flesh with his own – every inch of it.

“Don’t touch that!” she said. His hand had reached her panties. “Just pull them aside and enter me without looking at that. I am ready for you. I have prepared myself for you … just hoping for this moment.”

He knew it was the truth when he slid inside her. It was lubricated but tight, and it felt like heaven. She gasped, and then again, with each strong stroke. But it would be quick. It was as if the foreplay had commenced the moment he took her hand for their first dance. Quick, but simultaneous and wonderful.

“I feel ashamed that I could not offer you a vagina,” she said as he fell onto the bed beside her. You deserve better than what I can give you.”

“She offered you that,” he said. “But I am not sure that she would deliver that now. The truth is that I think Brigid is a little jealous of you these days.”

“That is because I am with you,” said Jaz. “She treats you like shit, Tom. But she desires you. I feel that.”

“I used to flirt with her a little, but not anymore. Since you came along, I only have eyes for the doppelganger,” he was looking into her eyes and grinning.

“But she is rich and I’m not, and she is a woman and I’m not,” said Jaz with a trace of sadness.

“The truth is that I have always been fascinated by transwomen,” said Tom. “Which is why I have been known to visit drag shows like the one where we first met. It was not to watch the queens - Drag is a joke at the expense of women, but transwomen like you always strike me as being the most feminine of all women.”

“I was not trans when we met,” said Jaz. “At least I don’t think I was. But now I want a vagina if it mean you inside it.”

Part 5.

Frank Kirby, Brigid’s head of security pulled Tom to one side as he stepped out of Brigid’s office.

“What has happened to the doppelganger? he asked Tom. “That guy Jason – where is he?”

“Frank, you know that Brigid terminated the arrangement,” replied Tom. “He has gone. We won’t be seeing him ever again.”

“I know about that, but it all happened in such a hurry I didn’t have time to follow all the security protocols,” sis Frank. “I have been trying to reach him to get him to sign the NDA. I called his girlfriend Katie, and she hasn’t seen him either, but she didn’t sound too upset – it seems they drifted apart. I also had another contact – a guy called Darryl – another faggot. He hasn’t heard from Jason either. Do you have any idea how I could track him down. I am just doing my job, Tom.”

“I understand, Frank. You’re good at your job. Brigid appreciates you.”

“Actually, she told me that yesterday,” said Frank. “It is the first time she had ever complimented me. Maybe she is not such a bitch after all.”

“Yeah, I think the experience with the doppelganger has changed her a bit,” said Tom. “It has shown her that she can get on by being a little nicer to people. Anyway, let me have those documents you want signed off and I will try to track Jaz down for you.”

With the papers in his hand, he walked into Brigid’s office.

She was sitting at her desk with a bunch of papers in front of her looking surprisingly relaxed.

“You know, Tom, I have got on top of things quite well,” she said. “I am feeling quite comfortable about taking those two weeks off starting Friday.

“I am looking forward to it as much as you are,” said Tom walking around behind the desk. With his hands under her arms, he drew her up from the chair so that he could kiss her gently on the lips. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

“It will be nil by mouth from Friday morning so no tongue after we get out of our bed Friday morning,” she teased.

“You don’t feel bad about what we have done,” asked Tom.

“It was self-defense. We had no choice.”

He pushed a lock of hair off her forehead and admired his prize.

“It looks like the doppelganger wins in the end,” he said.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2025