Message for Mom and Dad

Author's note: This one has a bit of a history. I was complaining about not having a story for a mix tape, and so Hutcho pitched me this idea. Sadly, I couldn't get it to work properly for the mix tape, so I'm setting it free ...

Hey, Mom and Dad, its Matt. I know its been awhile, but some stuff has been happening here that you will not believe, except I swear its true.

Star Traders: a review

The short-lived television show Star Traders (1972-73) has long been legendary among fans of science-fictional TV with good stories and bad special effects. Canceled after less than two seasons, it was never widely syndicated partly because of the small number of episodes and mainly because of rights disputes in the wake of the bankruptcy of Silver Silo Studios.

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls

A mysterious diary. An unconventional porn shoot. A night out on the town ends with… a transformation. Read all these stories in this month’s TG Mixed Tape, along with an examination of the filmography of the Wachowski siblings (of The Matrix fame), how the pair incorporate queer themes into their work, and Speed Racer (2008) as an artistic statement and a reflection on Lana Wachowski’s transition; an interview with Jenny North, who talks cosplay and genre-(and gender)-bending; and more!

OUTED IN THE OFFICE
Fiction by Cynthia V. Hart

The white #10 business envelope had no printing on it, just my name handwritten on the front. I found it sitting in my chair Monday morning when I arrived at work and came to my cubicle. I wondered who it was from; if it were official company communication, it would have been in one of our letterhead envelopes. I sat down, opened it and found a folded letter-size sheet of paper. On it was a printed photo, obviously taken by a smartphone’s camera…and my eyes widened in shock.

It was a photo of Andrea, no question. The dress, the face, the wig, the décor of the club…they were unmistakable. Someone had snapped a photo of me in my “other life” and left it here waiting for me in this envelope. I had thought nobody in the office knew I was a crossdresser, but here in my hands was proof that I was wrong. My heart was in my mouth and I started shaking with sheer terror.

Under the photo was printing from Microsoft Word or some other word-processing software, in that annoyingly overused Comic Sans font. It read:

“Dear Andrew: Is this you?

“Your friend always, Wendy.”

I gaped at the signature. Was this the gorgeous young lady I had spent two years or more working alongside, who sat just down the row of cubicles from me? Young, pale-skinned and freckled, busty and red-haired, blue-eyed and very cute, Wendy Parsons had always seemed a bit friendlier to me than most of the people there…but I had put it down to the rapport I often had with women, with whom I had always gotten along much better than those of my own gender. She strongly resembled a younger version of the actress who plays Joan on Mad Men -- Christina Hendricks, I think her name is -- right down to the epic prow. I had always loved the way her wavy crimson mane cascaded down from her head back over her shoulders, and the way her ample breasts filled out the front of her businesslike blouses and dresses. Sometimes I liked to imagine she wore something cut a bit lower than usual or left one extra button unbuttoned just for me to enjoy…but of course, that was mere fantasy.

I sat there for what must have been close to an hour, not even getting any work done, just trying to cope with the news that at least one of my co-workers was on to me and deciding what to do. Was it really from Wendy, or one of my other co-workers who’d spotted me and was trying to trap me?