Warning! If your politics are right wing you'll hate this one

3 PM. I was zonked. I was worn. I was wiped out. I was a waiter at a locally owned restaurant who had worked the early shift plus overtime - 5 AM to 2.30 PM. Don't get me wrong - I love the people I work with and even like my boss, really I do, not the least because he has a quirky sense of humor and loves pulling pranks almost as much as I do.

There's another reason I love my boss. As you can imagine, the restaurant business has been hard hit with this stinking virus. We've been lucky, the place is located in an area where there is a hospital and places where actual manufacturing is still being done - stuff that needs hands and tools instead of keyboards and monitors.

That means there were still people around who needed food. Tony quickly realized that we needed to offer fast and efficient takeout while we cut our seating in half to try and do our part to kill off this lousy bug before it killed us.

Our hours and incomes were cut, but Tony did his best to spread the pain, hanging in there until things got better. A while back, when the vaccine became available, we started to see some improvement. We still stressed takeout, but as jobs slowly returned we got more hours. Then the stimulus hit and our trade improved markedly, to the point where we started working some overtime to cope.

But all the overtime was starting to wear me out. I trudged into the lobby of my complex, thinking only of a nap. That's a good word: trudge. I trudged home. I feel like a pile of trudge. The prisoner trudged toward the gallows. Since it was raining, I had trudged through the sludge. I continued my trudge toward the elevator, glancing at the mailboxes and spotted the little red flag that said I had a package waiting.

I stopped trudging. My mood lifted, I rushed to the super's door and knocked, eager to claim my package. There was only one thing it could be. I hefted the package - it wasn't exactly lightweight - and punched the elevator button. I fumbled with the key, shouted "Anybody home?" as I came through the door and received only silence in reply, exactly as expected. My roomie was out and, since he worked the night shift I had the place to myself until the wee hours. I hadn't seen much of him since I started doing the morning trick.

I kicked off my sensible shoes, shucked my uniform and stood there in my pink panties. Digging into the drawer I found my brand new pink bra to match my panties and put it on. Eagerly but carefully I sliced the packing tape and removed two smaller boxes. Opening the first one I beheld my new silicone breast form in all its shimmering glory.

Between the overtime and the stimulus money I was finally able to buy some real breast forms - no more rice or beans or similar makeshifts.

Pausing to enjoy the feel of the thing, I slipped it into the cup of my bra and settled it in place, then filled the other side. Bouncing them a little I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.

"What the fuck?"

My roommate, Rush, stood in my doorway with a confused look on his face. What the hell was he doing home? He was supposed to be at work at that stupid, right-wing, conspiracy-infested radio station where he was a technician.

Go ahead and laugh - how many crossdressers have roommates who are right-wing conspiracy nuts? One so nutty he actually had his name legally changed to Rush to honor his martyred hero? One who had no clue I was a crossdresser.

The answer is: a crossdresser who was desperate to get out of his parent's home.

Back in college he was just plain George, kind of weird and conservative but not all that bad. Graduation came and we both wanted a place to live so we shared a rather decent apartment and set about looking for that golden opportunity to become rich and famous.

Weird though George was, he was a technical type that had spent most of his time at the school radio station - that is if he wasn't in the computer lab. It took him all of six weeks to find a job at the radio station. A good paying Union job, which probably pissed off the wing-nuts who bought the station to increase Rush Limbaugh's penetration into an already overloaded radio market, but the Union was entrenched.

Poor Rush had a hard time reconciling his good Union pay with his newfound disdain of Unions. My heart bled for him, almost as fast as my back account bled every time I made a payment on my student loan.

Over the next two years, George prospered and became a dittohead. Me, I moldered and became a waiter. Four years of college studying Graphic Arts, I made a career out of e-mailing resumes. And yes, I could be frequently heard saying "do you want fries with that?" while on the job.

Rush had one great positive as a roomie - he was frequently gone to broadcast wing-nut conventions or insurrections or gun-nut rallies. That part of Rush always confused me because he didn't own a gun. Actually, in college George was afraid of guns and winced when the drill team paraded around at halftime twirling their fake rifles. Whatever the reason, about twice a month I had the place to myself for two or three days running.

I know I should have waited to try my new forms until he was gone for a longer time, but last month had been exceptionally good as there had been several conventions in town and those attending must have been on liberal expense accounts because the tips had been great. With the overtime and by taking advantage of the skip-a-payment option on my school loans I had bought a pair of very nice breast forms. The next time I ever had a few days in a row without Rush I could even glue them on and see what that felt like.

But I digress - remember I'm standing there in my pink panties and bra while my roommate was making like a goldfish, his mouth flapping up and down, speechless. Since I was wearing a full coverage bra I don't think he realized that my tits came out of a box.

"Oh, you're home…" I managed.

He was still doing his impression of a guppy.

"Did the station get kicked off the air or something that you're home early?"

Audacity. Always audacity!

"You're wearing… wearing a… a… bra…"

"Yeah. I just got back from getting my vaccination and while I was waiting after the shot I realized I had forgotten to wear my bra this morning. Silly of me."

Actually, I had my second shot a couple of weeks back and was very relieved to be protected. Protected against a virus, but what could protect me from political madness?

"You got…vaccinated!?" he shrieked.

"Yeah, I…"

Are you crazy! Don't you know that they inject you with a microchip that will control your mind?"

"Nah. I feel just fine. Not a problem in the world. Well, except a lousy memory. I can't believe I forgot my bra this morning." I reached over and put on my uniform shirt. All the servers, male or female, wear the same t-shirt with the restaurant logo on it, but it was suddenly rather tight. My new boobs looked even bigger in the shirt than they did in only my underwear.

"But… But… But!"

"You sound like an outboard motor, Rush."

"But guys don't wear bras!"

"Of course we do. I've been wearing a bra since I was eleven years old. My father would never let me out of the house without proper underwear.

"Good God! They've got you! You've never worn a bra before. That microchip must be controlling you. We have to get you to somewhere and get it removed. Now!"

"C'mon, Rush. Don't be silly. Just because the voices in my head are making sure I'm dressed properly is no reason to get excited. I even made sure my bra matches my panties. I'm just sorry I don't have any pink socks to keep the theme going."

"Where the hell did you even get a bra?"

"What? This old thing! I've had it for ages."

"No you haven't. Guys do not wear bras!"

"You've been listening to those wackos on the radio too much. I've been listening to the voices in my head and they're much more sensible. Do you think that a deep purple nail polish would suit me?"

"You need help! I mean - you need help bad!"

"And I intend to get it. I'll make an appointment at the salon to get a mani-pedi tomorrow. You want to join me for a day of beauty?"

"Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!"

"Are you getting a cold, Rush? You sound like you're congested."

"You need to come down to the station right now! We knew this kind of thing would happen once the libtards got in. Now we can prove it!"

"I couldn't, really. I haven't got a thing to wear."

"Just put on a pair of jeans and let's get going. This is an emergency!"

"You can't be serious. My hair's a fright and I haven't got any makeup. I couldn't go out in public like this."

"You could if you took off that damned bra. Then you'd be just one more guy."

"Don't be silly!"

"Shit! That wouldn't work, either. If you aren't wearing a bra then nobody would know you're mind is under control."

"You're the crazy one. I've dressed like this for years and years."

"We've got to get you to the station for help right away."

"Well, I suppose if you'd help me brush my hair I could make an exception and not put on my makeup. After all, you are a friend, it's not like we're going on a date."

"A Date? Jesus! Look - take care of your hair and I'll wait in the living room. Don't take all day. Please!"

He left and I shut the door. I flopped on the bed, glorying in the feel of my breasts pressing into the mattress and laughing uncontrollably into my pillow. Far from being a disaster, my afternoon had turned into a farce and I was in control. I could hardly wait to meet the people at the radio station. If they were all as gullible as Rush I was going to have a great time.

I quickly did my makeup and put some necessary items in my purse. Seriously, if I was going out I was not going to do it with my face bare. My biggest regret was that changing into a skirt or dress would probably be too much yet - I was going to have to pile on the femininity slowly to keep Rush guessing.

 

Sitting in Rush's car - a luxury I couldn't afford on a waiter's pay - it suddenly hit me. I was out in public as a woman during broad daylight! Sure I had been out in the evening hours and stayed away from bright lights, but this was a first.

Not quite how I had imagined my debut, but with my long hair released from its usual ponytail and obvious breasts (so sue me - I wanted to be a D cup) what would a casual observer think?

I had been practicing while Rush was away and tried to adopt more feminine mannerisms, but I knew I was far from perfect. I'd even gone out in public a few times and not been clocked. Ironically, being less-than-feminine was exactly what I needed to convince the flakes that Rush hung out with that I was a man being mind-controlled by the microchip from the vaccination.

The whole vaccination business was an on-the-spot inspiration. I had been more than a little nervous living in the same apartment with someone who refused to protect himself, but there was no way I could afford to move out. My dad used to be fond of quoting 'desperate times call for desperate measures' whenever a tough choice was in the offing, and believe me, I would have been more than desperate without someone to share the rent.

I certainly wore a mask at work, and anywhere else there were other people. I tried to stay as far away from Rush as I could and it seems I made it through without getting sick. Now I wasn't so worried since I'd been vaccinated. Thinking about masks produced a thought: what would a real woman do if her lips were exposed to the view of a crowd of men?

"Rush! You've got to stop at the drugstore!"

"Huh?"

Typical man…

"There's one on the next corner. I'll only be a minute!"

"Do you have to?"

"Of course I have to! Why did you think I asked."

"Jesus! You are turning into a woman."

If he only knew… So I put on my mask while Rush sneered at me and went inside. I quickly found a lipstick in a garish orange, a compact with a mirror and nail polish to match. This was no time to be subtle!

Back in the car I flipped open the compact and applied the lipstick. Poor Rush was trying to watch where he was going and watch me at the same time. Lips finished I started applying the nail polish. Of course I kept my nails properly cared for and filed nicely.

"What the fuck are you doing. That shit smells awful!"

"Gee Rushie," I giggled, "you wouldn't want me to let your friends see me with bare nails, would you?"

He replied, but I dare anyone to transcribe the noise he made.

"We gotta get you to a doctor or a shrink or someone right away! Jesus! I hope it isn't contagious."

"We've been living together for just years and years! It can't be any more contagious than Covid."

"Don't give me that Covid crap. It's a hoax!"

"If you say so, Rushie," I simpered.

"Jesus!"

"I didn't know you had become so religious. You didn't go and get Born Again, did you?"

"No. Fer Christ sake!"

If I could keep this up it was going to be the best prank I ever pulled. And I was doing it wearing my bra!

 

"Tucker!" Rush shouted as he flew through the doors of the radio station. "Tucker! I've got proof!"

The only problem was there was nobody there to hear him.

"Where the hell is everybody?" Rush whined.

"Maybe they're on the potty," I offered in a little girl voice.

"Dammit! You've got to stop talking like that, Milton. It just ain't right for a guy to be talking like a little girl."

"Milton? My name's Millie."

"No it is not! You're Milton. Milton H. Forester."

Please, Rush. I know you wanted to change your name, but I really like being Millie and don't want to change my name." Just to rub it in, I started singing:

So beat the drums cause here comes

Thoroughly Modern Millie now

What we think is chic, unique and…

"No! No! No! That's… It's… Please don't do that! No singing!"

"I'm sorry, Rushie. I just had to break into song."

"This is worse than anything I ever imagined. Just wait until Alex Jones gets to meet you! We'll be famous!"

"I'll try just for you, Rushie."

"C'mon - the guys must be in the break room."

Jeez - you'd think that this bunch of troglodyte misogynists could break down and hire a cleaning woman. Naturally it would have to be a woman, men like these were utterly incapable of cleaning up after themselves.

Maybe they had tried that once, but no woman in her right mind would put up with these guys. Well, there were a few women present at the insurrection, maybe they could hire one of them after they get out of jail to do the cleaning. Somehow I didn't think the delay would bother the boys.

"There they are!"

I could see several people through a big window in the wall, leaning back and munching doughnuts. I suppose that would be their current excuse for not wearing a facemask, but they probably had plenty of others on tap.

"Tucker! I got proof!"

"Who the fuck needs proof, asshole, as long as we can make it sound good? Who's the chick?"

"That's just it! he's my roommate, Milton. The damn fool went and got vaccinated and look what it did to him!"

I kind of pulled my shoulders back and made my assets a bit more obvious.

"Nice honkers. If my girl could get honkers like that I just might change my mind and let her get jabbed."

"Gee, I'm glad you like them," I simpered.

"Honey, I could learn to love them. You busy tonight, darlin'?"

"Alex! He's not a girl! He's under libtard mind control and only thinks he's a girl."

"That's some mind control. I suppose I could always try tittie-fucking those melons. You any good at tittie-fucking, darlin'?"

I was beginning to see the downside of this prank. I knew these guys were weird, but I had no idea how bad it had gotten.

"Gee, mister. I'm not sure what you're talking about," I said in my little girl voice. Maybe he drew the line at screwing little girls.

"Leave him alone, Alex. We got to figure out how to show everybody that this vaccination scam is only a way to turn boys into girls. We can't let them get away with it."

"Well now, if the gov'mint starts pumping out little cuties like your roommate, it might not be such a bad thing for those of us men who don't fall for their crap. Any more like you at home, darlin?"

"Gee, they're all married, mister."

"Now that's purely a shame."

"WWRD"

"Gesundheit."

"No - What Would Rush Do?"

"Now there's an idea. We play this right and we could go national. Maybe even take over where Rush left off."

"Yeah! This could be big!"

"Rush, you hang on to this little lady. She might have a big future with KRZY."

What had I gotten into? I would be tempted to say something like 'here I was the only sane one in the middle of a gathering of insane cultists' but then I remembered I was the man standing there with a pair of phony D cup breasts under a tight T-shirt. Somehow I didn't think I had all that much credibility, myself.

Planning their big coup got boring fast. By the time they were trying to figure how to get Hillary involved I had had enough. I quietly picked up my purse and went to the lady's Room. Too bad no one noticed, but you can't have everything. I spent a few minutes making my makeup and hair look more normal - I had done a crappy job for Rush and wasn't going to go out alone unless I was looking better.

Walking in my new breast forms was a treat. My previous attempts were sort of OK, but this was much better. I wasn't sure where I was going until I realized I was only a block away from the restaurant.

Really?

Evidently I had decided to bring my boss, Tony, into the prank. Since Tony was gay, I figured he would be at least open to my own trans desires. I knew a couple of my co-workers walked on the other side of one societal line or another.

Being in the restaurant biz we were all very aware of how vulnerable we were to that damned virus, especially since you can't eat and wear a mask. Wincing as I realized just what a mask would do to my makeup, I took it out of my purse and put it on. Opening the door I strolled in and hoped I wouldn't cause a riot or get fired.

I didn't cause a riot. I sat at the counter and waited for May to come over.

"Coffee please, May," I said in my feminine voice.

"Sure, honey," She turned and suddenly froze. Looking back she realized who I was, directed her eyes at my bulging breasts and opened her mouth. She and Rush ought to get together, she did the fish face every bit as well as he did.

"It's a long story, May," I said.

"You are out of your tiny little mind!"

"I'm also out of coffee."

It was getting on to the dinner hour, so she couldn't make a huge fuss in front of the customers, but she did stick her head in Tony's office and moments later he appeared. She pointed at me, he nodded and took the cup of coffee from her and brought it over.

"Your coffee, Madame. To what do we owe the honor of your presence this fine evening?"

"I'm thirsty?"

"You're still in uniform. You're on the wrong side of the counter."

"Depends on your point of view. I much prefer sitting and drinking coffee to running around serving it."

"I suppose so. May tells me you have an… er… story."

"Why so I do…"

I had to do a little creative editing as to why Rush found me in bra and panties, but by the time I described the strategy session at KRZY Tony was having a hard time not laughing his ass off.

"So you see, boss, I would like permission to work as Millie for a little while as I escalate my supposed mind control a little more each day. Might even mean a bit of extra business as some people try to observe my behavior. Only problem I can see is they are all anti-maskers. Perhaps you could rope off a section outside the front window so they could observe without breaking the rules."

"Might work if I put up a sign pointing out the troglodyte cage in front of the place."

"Good thing you own it, I hate to think what some corporate flak would think of such a policy."

"All right, I'll go along with it, but don't piss off any customers and I'll expect you behave like a proper lady. Don't make me regret this, uh, Millie. And fer Christ sake, get a bigger T-shirt before you leave! This ain't Hooters!"

"I just hope I don't regret it, Tony."

 

After getting things set up at work, I returned home and was appalled to see myself in the mirror. Wearing a facemask had destroyed my careful makeup job. I couldn't believe I had actually appeared in public looking like that! Lesson for the morrow: eye makeup and lipstick, don't even think of anything on your cheeks. Damn good thing I was blonde and mostly beardless.

Rush was still gone (I hoped!), so I read the instructions that came with my new breasts. I carefully removed what chest hair I had, dried thoroughly with the blow dryer, then applied the adhesive. I was going to try my new glue-on forms much sooner than I had planned. Good thing Rush wasn't there - if he thought nail polish stunk, he would really not approve of surgical glue.

Working backward in a mirror is not the recommended way to glue on your forms, but needs must. Holding my new boobs tightly to my chest I put on my heaviest bra and lay down. Since Rush would eventually come home I donned a nightgown for propriety's sake and stretched out on the living room couch to await his return.

Poke a hornet's nest, anyone?

I tuned to some insipid romance on the cable, but had my book handy. With the sound turned down I waited for the return of Rush. If experience was any guide, Rush would be more than a little drunk after conferring with his fellow nutcases. Alcohol seems to get their creative juices flowing - how else could they come up with the crackpot stuff they peddle?

As I lay there I realized that real girls do not wear bras under their nightgowns, so I got up and removed it, wondering at the feel of my breasts swinging as I returned to the living room. At last the door opened and Rush came in. Yup, he was a bit under the weather. I hid my book and cranked up the TV sound. Perfect timing, some sexy blonde was speaking breathlessly to a big hunk, romance novels come to life on the small screen.

"There you are!" he cried. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Gee Rushie, you're a boring date. I got tired of listening to those guys babbling about all that silly stuff, so I just left. Next time maybe you can take me dancing."

"There ain't gonna be no friggin' next time! And it wasn't a date!"

I couldn't help noticing how he was speaking to my breasts. With them glued on and no bra, the camo twins were certainly noticeable, especially as I was moving just enough to make them shift and flop around.

"I guess I'll have to find another hunk to take me dancing, then." I shook my head and let my breasts dance some more. "I'm not going to ask you if you have any friends available, your friends were boooor-ing!"

"Do you have to wear that pansy night…night… gown?"

"Well, what else would a girl wear to bed? I wouldn't want you to see my boobies and get the wrong idea."

"Guys don't have boobies!" he screamed.

"Then I guess that proves I'm not a guy."

"Jesus! I'm going to bed."

He left. Score another one for my side.

 

My damned alarm went off at four in the morning. Not that I was really asleep, sleeping with glued on breasts had kept me tossing and turning most of the night. Those things were heavy. Several times I had almost gotten up and put on a bra, but I couldn't seem to wake enough to actually do it and I couldn't seem to get deep enough into slumber to stop noticing them.

Be careful what you wish for, the old saying goes. You might just get your wish.

I needed that extra half hour to do my eyes - I was still a novice at makeup, but not a complete tyro. I took my time to do it right, remembering Tony's warning not to do anything to piss off the customers. In accordance with my plan to escalate my femininity slowly, I donned my usual T-shirt and slacks uniform, noticing how my newly enhanced bust emphasized the restaurant's logo on the front. As a would-be graphic designer I thoroughly approved. As as a would-be woman I wasn't so sure it wasn't sexual exploitation.

I dithered a moment then, taking heed of the many stories I had read, I put a phony engagement ring on the ring finger of my left hand. Instead of my usual pony tail, I wound my hair into a neat bun on the top of my head and pinned it in place. I just hoped I didn't shed a bobby pin into someone's grits at breakfast. I just wish I had had the nerve to pierce my ears.

Then out the door and hop on the bus, mask firmly in place over my painted lips. I idly wondered how many crossdressers appreciated the concealment of a facemask as a fashion accessory. Mine had embroidered flowers on it, an impulse buy when I got caught by one of those ads while scrolling through Facebook.

Arriving at work on the stroke of 5:30 AM, I greeted my co-workers. Naturally, none of them had been on when I talked to Tony last evening, but he had warned them of my new circumstances. Sure, you can warn people that change is coming, but how many people will actually believe it until it hits them over the head? I laughed through a series of double-takes and gaping faces as people arrived and saw me, promising that all would be revealed when things slowed down. Meanwhile, don't let Tony bite your ass for slacking.

The idea of Tony biting a feminine ass - his partner would not approve - brought many a smile to my fellow wage slaves. Being one of only two male waitpersons, there was much frivolity and talk of surrendering to the dark side, but no real hostility.

I told myself that I worked with good people who would not get upset, but deep in my brain…

 

Somewhere around 9:30 or 10:00 the breakfast crowd thins out and the lunch crowd has yet to come in, so we who also serve by standing and waiting get to take a few minutes to gird ourselves for the coming battle.

Not so for me on that particular day. It had been an interesting morning, my regulars certainly noticed something different about me, but it seems people are rather reluctant to point out something as obvious as the sudden appearance of D cup breasts.

Some were hesitant, some were curious, some were downright vocal asking embarrassing questions. Only one, Old Man Luedecke, got up and went to a different table. Old Man Luedecke is never civil until he gets about halfway through his third cup of coffee, so he doesn't count.

With those I knew understood satire I claimed the Doctor had given me a shot of hormones instead of a vaccination. With some I just played dumb - 'Difference? I don't feel any different today. How do you want your eggs?' After a little while Marie and Vicky stopped watching my every move and put their attention back on their customers.

Well, mostly…

"... so that's it, I just had to find a way to give Rush and his crazy friends some grief. Since I'm a white male I couldn't really play the Race Card, but then I had a blinding flash of inspiration. With those idiots, misogyny comes in a close second so why the hell not? They've been getting all freaked out about microchips turning people into robots when they get vaccinated, so why not have it turn me into a girl?"

"You're shittin' me!" came the reply from Sam the Cook - not to be confused with Sam Cooke the singer. Believe me you don't want to hear Sam sing.

"Nope. It worked like a charm. Rush dragged me down to the radio station and they swallowed it, hook line and sinker. So over the next few days I'm going to slowly turn into a girly-girl for their edification."

"You are batshit crazy, Milt."

"Please! Millie from now on."

"But where did the… I mean how…" he stuttered, waving his hands in front of his chest.

"Spit it out, Sam. Where did I get the boobs."

"Uh, yeah…"

"Why Sammy," I gushed in my bimbo voice, "I told you that silly doctor gave me the wrong shot. Do you like them?"

"Well hell," drawled Marie. "I want the name of your doctor."

Marie is a little sensitive about her small bust. She looks just fine the way she is, but men do like big boobs. I know I do, but since I like them on me I may be a bit unusual.

"I think the prescription came from Amazon Prime. You can get just about anything online these days."

"I'll tell you one thing, Millie honey," Vicky warned. "If you're wearing a sexier bra than I am you are dead meat!"

"Shall we adjourn to the ladies and compare?"

I even managed to keep a straight face when I said it.

"That does bring up a point," Margo interjected. "Just which bathroom are you going to be using?"

"I leave that up to your choice, but I would point out that the customers might be unhappy to see someone with my frontage in the men's room. I promise I won't peek."

"How we going to compare bras if you've got your eyes closed?"

"A conundrum…"

Just then a customer arrived and we had to cut it short.

"One warning, expect some rather weird people to come in and check me out. We may have to hire a security guard because they won't want to be wearing masks."

"If I weren't so scared of getting sick I just might agree with them."

"Someday we'll get enough people vaccinated so we can go back to normal. At least if we can overcome the idiots."

"I'd be careful who you call an idiot, Millie. This whole sex change caper seems idiotic to me, but I'll go along with it and see what happens."

 

"Millie - get a load of the guy in the deerstalker hat."

"Say what?"

"In station three. Dude looks like Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh shit! He can't be serious. That's the guy Rush called Alex at the station yesterday. As in Alex Jones, I guess."

"Good thing he isn't the real Alex Jones, The real one is too fat to pull off Sherlock Holmes."

"I suppose he thinks he's in disguise so I won't recognize him."

"Well, of course you won't recognize him. What fun would we have if he knows?"

"He must be desperate, he's even wearing a facemask."

"He wouldn't have gotten in here without a mask. Sometimes I wonder how much good it does to wear a mask to the table and then take it off to eat."

Maria is the morning Manager, but she waits tables with the rest of us.

"Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to do and damn well hope not to die. You got any ideas, Maria?"

"You stay here and watch, little lady."

"Ouch! Tell you what - if he pulls out a meerschaum and tries to light it you have my permission to dump the lemonade fountain all over him."

"Now wouldn't that be special?"

 

"I do not friggin' believe it!" groaned Maria.

"If you can handle me turning into a girl, I hate to think what it is you can't believe."

"Sherlock over there ordered a cup of tea and an English muffin."

"What else would he order? Got to stay in character, don'cha know?"

"Sherlock Holmes did not speak in a phoney Cockney accent."

"Do tell?"

"I may be Puerto Rican but my Granny was British, I know what the accent sounds like. Besides, I listen to the BBC."

Don't get too excited or you'll end up in 'ospital."

"Jesus, Mary and all the saints!"

"That's Irish."

"We got us a real international conspiracy going here."

"Remember, the idea is to chat him up and get him to recruit you as a spy."

"Can I be 007? I would really appreciate that 'license to kill' right about now."

"Go get him his food. Who knows? You may even get a date out of the whole thing."

"Jesus, Mary and all the saints!"

 

"You owe me big time Milt - I mean Millie."

"I do? You did seem to be getting along with Sherlock."

"I cannot believe that anyone could be as gullible as he is. He was telling me about how the chemtrails from jet planes were causing global freezing and the military was using them to track Russian subs."

"I guess I do owe you…"

"But wait! There's more! I got a date with him for dinner tomorrow night."

"You didn't!"

"I sure as hell did. I'm gonna give him the lowdown on you. I hope you have some good stuff for me to dish."

"Jesus, Mary and all the saints!"

"That's my line. Get your own."

"You didn't happen to mention you're a lesbian, did you?"

"I must have forgotten. I wouldn't want to crush his poor incel ego. Besides, it's guys like him that make me glad I'm not all that into guys."

"You're a pearl of great price. How can I ever repay you?

"When you get to full uber-girly mode you can take me on a date. It ought to be a lot more fun than Sherlock."

"Maria, this is getting very weird."

"I'm not the one who came in with big boobs that grew overnight. Don't tell me about weird."

 

About the time I was ready to clock out there was a disturbance at the door. Tony had come in around noon and was on hand to be the heavy. Not to be flinging stereotypes around, but Tony's ancestors came from Sicily and he could get a part as an enforcer in a Mob film in a minute. The affable and loquacious restaurateur could vanish in a flash if a customer got out of hand.

There were two guys at the hostess station who looked for all the world like Marines who were trying to fit into their old uniforms after gaining about fifty pounds since they left the service. Short hair, old-style camo and no masks. Tony was making it clear that the mask policy still applied and they were making it equally clear that they had a God-given right not to be sheep and would damn well not hide behind a stupid mask.

This sort of thing happened about once a week, but these two were more obstreperous than usual. If they were here to get the lowdown on me they sure didn't have the sense that God gave a duck. At least Sherlock-Alex had tried to blend in quietly. Sort of.

Things were getting a bit heated when a cop car pulled up in front. No - nobody called the cops, Jerry and Finn were pretty regular customers for coffee and doughnuts around the time I went off shift. The timing couldn't have been better.

Please don't get the wrong idea here. I know that there are far too many fascist assholes wearing police uniforms, and those who abuse their privileges deserve to be thrown in the jug like any other criminal, but Jerry and Finn are old-fashioned beat cops, even if they ride around on wheels. They believe in de-escalation.

It was a thing of beauty to watch them calm both our would-be customers and Tony. They certainly weren't happy about it, but they left without starting a brawl. Finn and Jerry plunked themselves down at the counter and looked relieved. I was right there with two coffees - one cream and two sugars, the other black, accompanied by an apple fritter and a cinnamon swirl. Like I said, they were regulars.

"Thanks, Mi…" started Finn. "Jesus, Mary and all the saints!"

"I've been hearing that a lot today."

"You've gone over to the Dark Side, have you?"

"Now really, Finn! Would your sainted mother approve of speaking of the fair sex as The Dark Side?"

"Me sainted mother would be having a shit haemorrhage. And she wouldn't be sainted in a thousand years even if the Church still accepted indulgences."

"Sounds like she'd make a good cop."

"Not a chance in this world or the next. The woman is a law unto herself."

"Sounds like my mother."

"You wouldn't be turning into her, now would you?"

"I could do worse."

"Just when you think you've seen it all…" murmured Jerry.

"I have absolutely no intention of letting you see it all, Jerry," I said in a stern tone.

"That's not what I meant!" he blustered.

"Relax, Jerry. I'm joking. Someday I'll tell you what this is all about, but my shift is over and I'm outta here."

 

The workday over, I headed for the bus stop. I hadn't gone very far before I noticed one of the camo twins following me. I was being tailed! Shades of Sam Spade and Phillip Marlowe.

He obviously had flunked out of detective school because he was - well - obvious! He was even wearing a facemask - no way you can get on a city bus with a bare face; a wanna-be militia type was no match for an angry bus driver.

I got on the crowded bus but there were no seats, so I stood there with my arms above my head hanging on to the strap with my big breasts poking out ahead of me. They moved with a life of their own with every bounce and sway of the lumbering bus. I also tried my best not to notice how much other people were noticing them. Speak of being obvious!

About the third stop, when a new crowd flooded on, some kid tried to cop a feel. I gave his hand a slap and growled "Keep your hands to yourself or I'll have your balls!"

Now he was the one getting watched, not my boobs. There were a couple of feminine cheers and the sucker had to hang there until the next stop before heading out the back door. To the consternation of the guy in camo, I exited right behind him. As the door shut I could see him trying to get to the exit, but he was out of luck.

Meanwhile, my erstwhile groper was looking around, trying to decide what to do. He spotted me and I swear the blood all drained from his face. I just gave him a smile and went on my way. Where I was going I had not the faintest idea, but I just pretended I had a destination and walked by the jerk. A block or so later I saw a boutique, so I just figured it was fate and went inside.

I wasn't going to buy anything, rich I wasn't, but then I saw the sign:

Tomorrow was the day I planned for Millie to load up on jewelry and bangles - wouldn't it be great if I had pierced ears for my earrings? Of course it would.

"I know you're supposed to leave your starter earrings in for some time, but is it possible to get something colorful and dangly as a pair of starters?" I asked.

"The girl looked confused, but she said "I don't see why not. As long as you keep something in the holes until they heal it should be OK. I have to use studs for the piercing gun, but if you don't mind a bit of pain we can replace them with whatever you want right away."

"Good! Let's do it!"

So I picked out a pair with a crystal at the end of a long chain that swung all over the place as I moved my head. It did hurt to change the starter for the finisher, but no worse than getting jabbed for my vaccination.

I eyed some of the other jewelry, but this was the good stuff - I couldn't afford it just to get my Q-anon admirers cranking. Someday I would be rich and famous and be able to dress the way I wanted. Probably about the same time the Trumpster came up with proof the election was stolen. A girl can dream. A guy can even dream of being a girl.

I did remember there was a dollar store not too far away, so I took a hike and loaded myself with bangles and beads for the morning. Life as Millie was sure more interesting than life as Milton.

 

By the time I got home I had a plan for my next step as a mind-controlled robot woman. While hanging there on the bus after all the excitement, I had finally remembered that I was a graphic artist, even if no one was paying me to practice my art. I was certainly capable of manufacturing some "evidence" for Rush's crowd.

Changing into a blouse and skirt, I finally took the time to sort my tips for the day. You can tell when things are hectic when I don't even have a few moments at work to see how much filthy lucre I collected.

I got quite a shock - I had half again as much in tips than I had ever had before! Say what? I recalled the scuttlebutt among the girls that the bigger the boobs the bigger the tips, but as a male I had discounted such talk as, well, call it jealousy. Like any good Liberal, I might have to revise my opinion in light of new information. If my darling D cups meant I was going to be making more money, I might just have to let Millie hang around after I was done twitting Rush's friends.

At least I didn't have to worry about anyone staring down my cleavage, since we all wore company T-shirts.

Grinning a bit, I settled down at my computer and looked through the family photos I had scanned into digital form. There! A good shot of Mom holding the baby me on her lap, gazing adoringly at her offspring. That was stage one.

Stage two was trolling the Internet for pictures of the young Hillary Clinton. Not as many of those as in her later years as a politician, but I found a nice one of her and Bill gazing benevolently down at someone receiving an award of some kind. Stage two in the bag.

Firing up Photoshop, I corrected the lighting and coloration of both photos to be similar, then replaced the award winner with Mom and me. I put an old-fashioned Nurse's hat on Mom's head and viola! Bill and Hillary watching their Nanny holding a baby. Stage three.

Now the fun and creative part. I remembered my Dad telling me about a tabloid where Hillary was on the front page holding an Alien Baby that she and Bill adopted after a flying saucer crashed. It wasn't hard to find that cover on line.

I was getting hungry, so I went into the kitchen and nuked a frozen dinner, then alternated bites of Salisbury steak - OK, I know it's just a hamburger with a fancy name - while I turned myself into a baby Space Alien. By the time I was done, I had graphic proof that my mother was Bill And Hillary's nanny for their Space Alien child, name of John Stanley Clinton according to the Weekly World News.

Not bad for a few hour's work. Stage five accomplished.

I had to pause a moment to try and scratch my earlobes, which were tender after their mistreatment. I did like feeling the little chains brushing against my neck, though.

The next step was harder. I found a picture of me at my twelfth birthday party, blowing out the candles on the cake. I had already started to let my hair grow longer by then, and it was clearly me. Turning my best friend Al into a Space Alien was not quite as easy as doing the same to the baby me, but I managed. If I ever reconnect with Al he's gonna love this picture.

There are several adults in the background observing the festivities. It wasn't hard to Photoshop Bill and Hillary in, then play with the resolution so it all looked real. Stage six firing and we have reached orbit!

I e-mailed the finished images to Kinkos for printing, so I could pick them up at lunchtime and give them to Maria for her date. I hoped Sherlock-Alex appreciated her abilities as a spy.

 

The stinking alarm went off at 4:00 AM once again. Was it really worth all this to twit Rush's gullible buddies? Was it really worth waking up ten times overnight because these gargantuan breasts keep flopping?

So OK, it's worth it, but I am coming to appreciate the 'less is more' branch of philosophy. It took a couple of tries to get my eye makeup right, yawning is a major cause of eye injury when working with mascara and eyeliner.

I put on my bra - definitely worth it! - and got dressed. Still wearing trousers today, but a big necklace, lots of bangles on my arms and twin ponytails adorned with ribbons. I paused outside Rush's bedroom door and jangled my bangles, but he slept through it.

Another fine day to wait for the bus, even if the sun hadn't gotten out of bed yet. Soon there were lights in the distance and the bus glided to a stop. I got on, still early enough I could get a seat, and damned if one of the camo twins didn't hop on at the last second.

Man, these guys really flunked out of detective school. Why bother tailing me when they knew I'm heading to work? It's not like I would have time to sneak off and forge some ballots or something and still get to work on time.

I gave him a bright smile but realized it was wasted effort with a mask on. I tried a friendly wave and wiggled my fingers, causing my bangles to tinkle and ring. The poor dude was trying hard to ignore me.

Once we got to the restaurant he developed a great interest in a nearby shop window and I went in to start earning my living. Maria was there and took one look at me and started laughing. "Ladies!" she sputtered. "You have got to see this!"

Really?

OK, so my hairstyle was a bit young for a twenty-two year old woman, but it was cute.

"Give me your brush," commanded Vicky. "Quick!"

I dug into my purse and handed it to her.

"Hey! Nice earrings. She unbound one of my ponytails and started brushing. She started tugging and doing I knew not what and quickly did the deed.

"Turn around."

I did and she did.

"Now, have a look."

There was one of those round mirrors by the kitchen door to prevent head-on collisions, so I looked. Damned if I didn't have braids strung through with my ribbons. Just call me Heidi and send me some sheep to shepherd.

"That's cool!" I exclaimed.

"Just clock in, kid" grumbled Maria. "Time to open the doors."

As it got busy I almost forgot I had ostensibly changed sex. That is until I had a big order - big trays and big boobs are a poor combination. I was looking forward to getting my pictures from Kinko's at lunch when I spied my erstwhile tail waiting for me. Damn!

"Vicky? Could you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"I have some pictures waiting at Kinko's on the next block, but I don't want the idiot in camo to know I'm going there. Could you grab them for me and give them to Maria? They're all paid for."

"I guess…"

"Maria needs them for her date with Sherlock tonight."

"Whoa! Seriously?"

"She's gonna supply Sherlock with the dirt on me. Check them out when you get them and see what she's dug up."

"This I gotta see!"

 

My routine the following morning was not much different than the previous two days, so I won't go over it again.

This time Sherlock, in disguise as a construction-worker type, shadowed me to work. I was starting to wonder about Rush, who I hadn't seen or heard since he dragged me to the radio station. Obviously they hadn't forgotten since I still had company on my travels.

I barely made it in the door before Maria accosted me. The entire staff was waiting behind her to see what was going to happen.

"Alright Millie! You owe me big time. You should maybe be thinking about your firstborn son to make up for last night."

"Uh, Maria? You haven't forgotten that I have a permanent case of sterility as a woman?"

The absurdity of that statement broke everyone up.

"So tell me, how was your date last night?"

"I didn't believe people like that were real - I thought they were only found on those silly stories on Facebook."

"They're real. I ought to know, I live with one."

"I have never been so bored in my life! That dude is something else. He may think he's incel, but I'm here to tell you his celibacy is entirely voluntary. If he managed to get any woman into his bed she'd be fast asleep before he could get her clothes off."

"I hope you aren't speaking from personal experience," snickered Sara.

"Did you know John F. Kennedy Jr. faked his death and posts on 8 chan? I thought the dude was saying 8 track and couldn't figure out an old tape cartridge had squat to do with the Kennedys."

"Fascinating!" I exclaimed.

"It gets better. No, it gets worse. In the mountains of Alaska, you can find the High-Frequency Active Auroral Research Program. The guv'mint says it's for exploring the upper atmosphere, but those in the know realize it's part of a vast mind control program. He kept harping on it, which makes sense since the acronym is HAARP."

"Gee, I wonder how that mind control will interact with the mind control from my microchip?"

"Maybe that's why you're being followed."

"Could be. So how did Sherlock like the evidence you were able to filch from my purse?"

"That's the part I have to thank you for. Once he saw the pictures he couldn't wait to end our date so he could show them to his buddies."

"I take it you were terribly disappointed."

"Just crushed. I'm glad you ordered extras, they look great on the employee's board out back."

"You didn't!"

"Not me - Tony is the culprit. They're even better than the artwork you do for this place."

"Too bad I can't find anyone who wants to pay me for my art."

"OK people, speaking of pay - open the doors, it's time to start earning your paychecks.

 

Arriving home that afternoon, I changed into another of the dresses in my closet - no need to hide them any more. I was starting to get a bit worried, as I hadn't seen Rush since he caught me in my lingerie.

I sat down at the computer, intending to troll some crossdressing sites when another idea hit me. I opened up my word processor and started pounding the keys. Cribbing shamelessly from James Dobson, I created a three page document with all the action items needed to impose the Gay Agenda on America and the world.

I laid it on thick, knowing my audience, being sure to include:
 

• Universal acceptance of the gay lifestyle
• Discrediting of scriptures that condemn homosexuality
• Muzzling of the clergy and Christian media
• Granting Gays special privileges and rights in the law
• Overturning laws prohibiting pedophilia
• Indoctrinating children and future generations through public education
• Securing all the legal benefits of marriage for any two or more people who claim to have homosexual tendencies
• Requiring the Pride Flag be flown in all public classrooms
• Free counseling and surgery for transgendered people
• Requiring a representative of GLAAD hold a Cabinet position in all future presidencies
• Dunking Anita Bryant in a vat of orange juice
• "Ex-Gay" therapy to be designated a capital crime
• All public restrooms to be gender neutral
• All minimum age of consent laws to be abolished
• The Family Research Council to be designated a domestic terrorist organization

 

By the time I got to the end of the list I had just plain run out of stupid and outrageous claims, so I created a couple of phony letters from several right-wing legislators revealing that they were really underground agents for the Gay Agenda and thanking them for their efforts. I didn't think even these guys would fall for it, but what the heck?

Now the problem of how to get it to Rush, since we had been ships passing in the night. Passing, eh? I had to wonder how a transgendered ship would be able to pass.

That thought made me realize it was past my bedtime. I buttoned up the computer, saved the whole thing and backed it up, then set my screen saver to bounce the words "SECRET GAY AGENDA" across the monitor screen, setting the automatic shutoff to never.

The next morning I dressed for work with the usual T-shirt and a nice black skirt that came just above my hairless knees. I turned on the computer and put a couple of thumb drives on the desk next to the keyboard. I made sure to leave my bedroom door wide open. I knew Rush couldn't resist the bait.

 

This morning the one who called himself Tucker seemed to be my escort. For people who railed against the sheepishness of Liberals I savored the irony of all the conspiracy-consuming wackos lining up to take the names of other people. Speaking of irony - here I was riding the public bus wearing a skirt and being taken for a woman by everyone but Mr Tucker, all because my roommate and his buddies were right-wing nutcases.

Sweet!

I won't repeat the razzing I got when I walked through the door in a skirt, but it was good natured. Mostly. Sam the Cook ostentatiously chatted me up and Maria asked for a date. I played the sweet, innocent maiden as best I could until the doors opened, then I became my usual efficient self for the customers.

Well, not quite my usual self…

Things went well until my break just before the lunch rush, when I decided to take a quick trip next door to spend some of my tip money. I was beginning to enjoy the extra tips I was getting as a waitress, as opposed to a waiter. I was startled by the roar of an unmuffled engine and that's when things went bananas.

We have arrived at the point in this story when I can no longer tell it from the first person viewpoint, and must of necessity switch to the viewpoint of an all-knowing narrator. The reason I must do so was that I was grabbed and thrown into the back of the van with the unmuffled engine and blindfolded, so I had no idea just what was going on.

 

The loud roaring of an engine that seemed to be lacking a muffler came through the open door of the quiet restaurant, to be immediately followed by a piercing scream and several guttural curses. The patrons and staff watched in shock as Millie the waitress was grabbed and shoved into the side door of a van. As the side door to the van slid shut someone could be heard shouting "This is for your own good, dammit!"

In the grand tradition of suspense and mystery stories, the van was painted black. However, the owner must not have read too many mystery stories because the van was also painted with bright red, orange and yellow flames with the legend GIVE 'EM HELL, RUSH! covering the entire side. With black smoke belching from the raised smokestack that served as an exhaust pipe the van sped off into traffic accompanied by the blaring of horns and the cursing of drivers with their windows open to the fine, mild weather.

Everyone stood in shocked disbelief except for Sam the Cook. With a shout he leaped from the kitchen, spaghetti sauce stained white apron flapping, and grabbed his skateboard from the rack by the door. Screaming something like "Stop you bastards!" he slammed the board to the ground and sped off in pursuit.

With a squealing of brakes the van stopped, not because Sam the Cook had ordered it to cease motion, but because the driver ahead of it had stopped for the red light. I guess that driver wasn't a mystery fan or he would have know that a dramatic getaway was pretty much required at this point.

Weaving his way among the stopped vehicles, Sam the Cook just managed to get near the getaway van as the light changed. Latching on to the back bumper he pogied behind the van with grim determination. How he did it heaven knows, but he managed to extract his cell phone while speeding away from the scene of the crime and call Tony, who was on his speed dial.

Tony, who was still on his way into the restaurant, fortunately had hands-free phone built into his car and answered the very excited Sam the Cook. It took a little while for Tony to figure out what was going on, but when he did he followed Sam's shouted directions and headed for the getaway van.

Sam the Cook was starting to worry about the wheels on his skateboard; they weren't really designed for high speed chases. Neither were they designed for the potholes on the road. Fortunately, the van slowed and started to turn into a warehouse and Sam let go of his grip to speed unnoticed onward down the road as the van pulled into the warehouse.

A few minutes later, Tony arrived on the scene and conferred with Sam. Locating the name and address of the warehouse, Tony called 911 and reported the kidnapping and the address, then the two waited for the police to arrive. Shortly thereafter the police did arrive, siren wailing. Taking a look at the black kid in the bloody apron and the mafioso beside them they immediately leaped to the wrong conclusion, drawing their guns and shouting orders.

It took quite some time to convince the officers that they were the ones who had called the police and the kidnappers were inside the warehouse. As you can imagine, their story was somewhat hard to believe.

With their identity finally established and and a rational lieutenant on the scene, the police headed for the warehouse door, where they found a discrete sign proclaiming :
 

 

"What the hell does that mean, LT?" asked the sergeant.

"It means the crap we've been listening to just might be the real thing. Chakras, for Christ's sake!"

Just then a scream rent the air.
 

We now return you to our regularly scheduled first person narrator. Remember that I had just been grabbed and thrown into the back of the van with the unmuffled engine and blindfolded which pissed me off mightily, not that I could do much about it as we were all thrown about as the van accelerated and then stopped abruptly. Hadn't these fools ever heard of seat belts?

"Relax kid," came the voice I identified as Tucker. "We ain't gonna hurt you, we're doing this for your own good."

Despite the situation, my overriding thought was this guy needs someone to write better dialog for him!

"Kidnapping me and wrapping this stinking blindfold around my eyes is for my own good? Dammit Tucker, I'm gonna kick you and my asshole roommate and everyone else at your stupid radio station in the balls, and then I'm gonna sue your asses off."

"You got us wrong, kid. We got to get that microchip out of you so you can think right again."

"Jesus, you are one gullible idiot. Microchip my ass!"

"It ain't your ass that's sticking out, kid."

That was about all the conversation we had time for, because the road got real bumpy and I was trying not to get thrown around the open back end of the van. At last it stopped and Tucker opened the van door and chivied me up some stairs and into a building that echoed like a - well - a big open building.

"Welcome to Pyramid Deprogramming, lady and gentleman." came a voice with an accent straight from the subcontinent.

Tucker removed the blindfold and I just had to laugh at the absurdity of what I saw. Before me stood a tall, skinny dude wearing only a loincloth and a turban. That part went with the accent, but he was as fair and blond as someone from Scandinavia. Not that that was bad in itself, after all I'm fair and blond myself, but talk about cultural appropriation!

As my eyes adjusted to the sudden light I noticed that the place was filled with pyramids. Big ones, small ones, glass ones, metal ones - you name it and it must have been there somewhere.

"Welcome to our therapy center, young lady. Here we have pyramids that generate negative ions. These ions are to promote oxygen intake of your body as the pyramid helps in synchronizing your seven chakras.

"The pyramid is designed to deflect the cosmic radiations striking upon its apex. Then, with the help of the magnetic field of the Earth and its gravitational force, we will create a strong bio-energy field. This field will be deactivating the microchip that is controlling your mind so to allow you to think freely once again."

Tucker was bouncing like a jack-in-the-box and nodding as he listened.

"See kid, we only want the best for you."

I almost felt sorry for the idiot, he really believed all this crap.

"Please to enter the pyramid where you will find a comfortable bed for your stay in its soothing emanations. The process may take up to six days, but at the end you will once again be free of mind control."

"You are out of your freaking mind! No way I'm going to stay in that silly thing for six days!"

"Please to enter the pyramid without apprehension. We are doing this for your own good and I do not want to be forcing you to get the treatment you need."

"Buddy, you are going to have to use all the force generated by every damn one of these pyramids to make me get into that stupid thing."

"I am sorry to be doing this to you…"

He came at me and tried to grab my arms, but I twisted and he missed, one hand landing on my right breast and the other going over my shoulder where it curled around my neck in an unplanned hug. I didn't stop to think, but my knee rammed into his loincloth-covered nads and a scream rent the air.

The door burst open and there were several policeman, a couple of paramedics, a fireman and, at the end of the parade, Tony and Sam the Cook. Quite the party. The paramedics tended to the pseudo-guru writhing on the floor, Tony grabbed me and asked if I was OK and the cops started asking Tucker and the van driver just what the hell was going on here.

Me, I just stood there and appreciated Tony's support - I was perilously close to collapsing after all that had happened.

 

Needless to say, we all spent quite some time at the police station explaining what happened. The police were not amused by my prank, to say the least, nor were they happy to find I was a male under my clothing. Police still don't seem to be all that happy with dealing with a crossdresser.

They were even less happy dealing with a kidnapper. Tucker and his buddy were incensed that the cops would consider them criminals when they were only trying to help me. The poor cops had one hell of a time not laughing in their faces when they tried to justify their actions with my alien pictures.

It didn't take long for the cops to visit the radio station, where they found the denizens deep in a planning session to stop the implementation of the horrendous Gay Agenda. It seems the people at the station weren't doing anything actually illegal, but I wish I could have witnessed the conversations that occurred.

When we were finally released, Tony took us back to the restaurant, where we got to tell the whole story over again, customers included. We did our best to make it funny and absurd, but I was still shaken by the experience. I really didn't want to go home to the apartment with Rush. For that matter, I didn't want to see Rush ever again.

"You poor baby," Maria sympathized. You're coming home with me tonight, the couch is a hide-a-bed and you can sleep there until you figure out what to do."

"But… but… I don't have a thing to wear!" I moaned.

"That does it!" crowed Sam the Cook. "If I had any doubt you were really a woman I don't any more. Don't have a thing to wear!"

"I'll take you to your apartment so you can pack a suitcase," volunteered Tony. "If your big, bad roomie comes home I'll protect you, my fair flower of femininity."

"Tony, I'm gonna loose that fine meal I just ate."

"There's more in the kitchen," offered Sam.

 

So that's how I ended up living full time as a woman with Maria as my roommate. Get your mind out of the gutter - Maria is a lesbian and despite appearances I am a heterosexual male underneath it all. We are roommates, not lovers.

Rush and his buddies had some hard times explaining everything, but I declined to press charges and they are happily conspiring whatever conspiracies they can dream up. I have no idea if Rush found a new roomie and don't really care. I like being Millie and life is good.