Two Weeks of Wendy: A Gradual Feminization Novel (Ch. 1)
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***FYI This is the first of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***
CHAPTER ONE
Hollywood is a weird town. I know that’s not exactly a hot take, but hear me out.
When I call Hollywood ‘weird’, I’m not referring to the grungy, carnival-like atmosphere of the tourist trap that is Hollywood Boulevard — though that entire strip is pretty bizarre with its grotesque museums, kitschy bars, and folks in Spiderman or Yoda costumes conning you into paying for a picture. No, I’m referring to the business of it all. Specifically, the writing business.
Maybe it’s my own fault for being so naïve, but damn if this town doesn’t chew you up and spit you out before you can even yell the word ‘action’. And I’ve been luckier than most.
I’m serious. I really have been lucky. We’ve all heard the stories, right? Every summer, thousands of people migrate to LA hoping to meet an agent, manager, or producer who’ll read their script and turn it into the next big hit. They tell themselves, ‘It’ll happen, I know it will! I just need a year!’. But one year becomes two which then becomes ten, and before you know it, you’re on the bus back to Phoenix or Pensacola or wherever the hell you came from with nothing to show for it.
And by some miracle, I was able to avoid that fate.
Long story short, my creative writing professor in college liked a short story I wrote about an alien emerging from the ocean to attack humanity. That same professor had a producer friend in Hollywood who had just sold a show about — you guessed it — an alien who emerges from the ocean to attack humanity. He shared my short story with the producer who loved it and hired me to write on his show.
Bing. Bang. Boom. It was serendipity at its finest. I’m fresh out of college with a professional writing credit, an agent, and the brightest possible future. That is, until the studio killed our show mere days before going into production. Something about a tax break they could get by shelving our project. In one fell swoop, my string of good luck was brought to a disastrous end.
But the worst part of it all? That was six months ago and I haven’t even sniffed work since.
It took a few minutes, but the woman in front of me in line finally finished ordering. I stepped up to the counter.
“A small black coffee, please,” I said to the barista — a cute, young blonde woman who smiled and nodded.
In stereotypical Los Angeles fashion, it’s middle of the week and one of my favorite west-side coffee shops is full of readers, writers, and creatives chugging away on their personal projects.
For the longest time, I thought this was the strategy that worked best for me. I’d show up to a café at 9 A.M. and treat it like a ‘real’ job — writing all morning, taking an hour for lunch then hopping to a different coffee shop where I’d write til the evening. Effective enough, yeah?
“Black coffee for Will?” a male barista shouted from the other end.
I reached over the counter for my cup, but the man’s hand retracted as he shot me an odd glare.
“Will,” he clarified with some hesitation.
Now you’d think a barista wouldn’t employ much scrutiny over one order, but I quickly, and unfortunately, knew why he did.
“Yep, that’s me,” I said, intentionally lowering my voice a bit and rising on my toes for a few extra inches.
The man blushed, of course, realizing his error. “Oh shit, sorry, I…”
“I’m a guy,” I answered. “Promise. But all good, it happens more than you think.”
Not looking to get caught in an apology twister, I snatched my cup and quickly retreated to a table in the back of the shop. However I took a moment to shove my just-past shoulder-length auburn hair under a baseball cap to avoid confusing anyone else. Not that my thin frame and short stature did me any favors either – there’s not much I can do in that department.
Laptop open, coffee beside it, Word document open. What to write, what to write…
*DING*
Ugh! I know I should turn off my phone, but part of me likes to keep it on on the crazy off-chance Kendra, my agent, calls with some sort of miracle job offer. But glancing down at my phone, it wasn’t my frustratingly distant agent.
It was Erica, my sister.
‘How about a fun surprise?’, her text read.
What? A fun surprise? Why was she texting me, and what the hell was she talking about?
My head darted around the coffee shop, examining faces to see if I was getting pranked. Is she here?
She couldn’t be. Erica lives in Chicago. I mean, she travels a lot for work, but never LA. Plus, Erica and I talk maybe twice a year. We’re not on bad terms or anything, we just, like many adult siblings, have nothing in common.
My phone dinged again. ‘Come on! Call me for your fun surprise!’
Okay, now this is just annoying. I’ve barely even sipped my coffee and I’m getting harassed by my sister from across the country in the middle of a work day. But damn it if a ‘fun surprise’ doesn’t pique my interest.
I got up and scurried to a corner of the coffee shop for some privacy. Sure enough, Erica picked up on the first ring.
“Helloo-oo?” Erica picked up in a silly voice.
“You know it’s the middle of a work day, right?” I began, admittedly a little hostile.
“Yeah, I’m working too, doofus,” she answered in a similarly curt tone. “What’re you doing right now?”
I glanced around the coffee shop, wondering if I should answer honestly. “I’m working,” I said back. Hey, it’s not technically lying…
“Mocha for Brett!” the male barista screamed out as if he knew I was on the phone.
Erica chuckled over the phone. “Working… at a coffee shop…”
I groaned, starting to feel like her ‘surprise’ was just to make me feel shitty. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
I could hear her slap her head through the phone. “Will, I didn’t call you to give you shit about not having a job, alright? I’m sorry if it came across that way. I actually do have a surprise for you.”
My eyebrow raised. “Go on…”
“Actually, it’s kind of perfect you don’t have a job right now because get this — you know those promotions they do on the radio for vacations and shit? Like, radio sweepstakes? Well I never fucking listen to the radio, but I was in an uber to O’Hare last week one of the stations was running a promotion for a two-week trip to Hawaii. And I shit you not… I FUCKING WON!!!”
“Woah!” I gasped, genuinely shocked. “Are you serious? Two weeks? In Hawaii?”
“Yeah!!” she squealed, over the moon. “They called me literally an hour ago!”
Well, that certainly wasn’t the news I was expecting. If I had to bet, it would’ve had something to do with our parents getting sick or something terrible. But this is much better.
“Well shit, that’s insane,” I told her sincerely. “Seriously. Congrats.”
“But that’s not all. I was thinking, you know, since Hawaii is a schlep for most people — not to mention most people aren’t as lucky as me and can take two weeks’ vacation on a dime — I thought, ‘Hey, I have a super cool brother I haven’t caught up with in a while. Maybe he’d like to join me!’”
I paused on the phone for a moment, struggling to believe her. “You wanna invite… me?”
Perhaps I wasn’t grateful quickly enough. “Uh, YES, Will! What’s so crazy about that? You’ve got the time, don’t you?”
Jesus… I’m not even 15 minutes into my ‘work’ day and I’m already getting vacation offers. If only my writing could move this fast.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no issue spending time with my sister – even if we don’t exactly keep in touch. And while I’ve never been to Hawaii, I’m sure I’d have no issues. But is a vacation really what I need right now? It’s been six months since I last worked. How the hell can I justify even more time off?
“How much is this gonna cost?” I asked, putting back on my interrogation hat. “You know there’s always a catch with these things.”
“No catch! All you gotta do is pay for the airfare,” she said confidently. “And boo-hoo, I know you made bank from that alien show. You can’t buy one round-trip flight?”
She’s not wrong. TV writing pays extraordinarily well. Though without a regular job that cash has been dwindling fast.
“Come on, Will. Don’t be a cheapskate!”
“It’s not just the money, Erica, it’s… Ugh! You wouldn’t get it. Consultants don’t understand writers.”
I could feel her eyes roll over the phone.
“Maybe so,” she began, “but consultants do understand burnout. And shit, if you haven’t gotten a job in six months — maybe you just need to clear your head. Tell me, what are you writing right now?”
Reluctantly, I stared at the blank Word document on the table, the cursor blinking, ready for anything to be typed.
Hanging my head, I practically folded in defeat. “I… I have no fucking clue...”
“And that’s okay! You’ve been bumming around LA for months. Come to Hawaii, clear your head! Maybe it’ll give you some perspective. Get inspired again.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I think Erica is right. A flight to Hawaii isn’t cheap, and another two weeks of not working is pretty terrifying too. But if it even gives me the slightest chance of slaying the beast that is that blank sheet of paper… Do I really have a choice?
Letting out a huge sigh, I finally caved. “Alright… I’m in.”
“Woohooooo!” my sister exploded over the phone. “Hell yeah, Will! I gotta hop in this meeting, but I’ll send you dates and times. Three more days, and we’re off to Hawaii!!”
========
I must’ve gone back and forth a hundred times on my decision to join Erica in Hawaii over the past three days. But each time I sat down and painfully struggled to write a single sentence, it reminded me how unsustainable the status quo was. My life needed a shake-up and, at the very least, booking travel and efficiently packing a suitcase (50 pounds to the ounce!) gave me a couple of line items to cross off.
While Erica had a roughly eight-hour flight to Hawaii from Chicago, being in Los Angeles, I was already halfway there. ‘Half the distance is half the money’ was one of the mental reminders I forced upon myself during moments of doubt. But honestly, once I was actually on the plane, I started getting excited. In fact, I even felt a little clearer-headed. It was as if the Pacific Ocean thousands of feet beneath me was already washing away my stresses and struggles.
And whoever is in charge of the Honolulu Airport deserves considerable praise for creating a tropical atmosphere out of what is normally a stuffy, miserable place. It’s not perfect, but the effort to make tourists feel transported the moment they step off the plane is deeply appreciated.
Not more than 30 seconds after grabbing my suitcase at baggage claim did I hear a recognizably shrill scream that brought me back to reality.
“Vacaaaaaation tiiiiiimeeeee!” Erica shrieked excitedly from down the corridor, fumbling her massive luggage as she sprinted toward me.
While definitely not my style, I let her plow into my arms for a big ‘ol sister hug that nearly knocked me over. And with her 6 inches of height on me, it’s entirely possible. Not to mention almost suffocating me with her head of thick, wavy blonde hair.
“You made it! We made it! Eeeeeee!” she squealed.
I chuckled awkwardly, feeling embarrassed in front of strangers. Though I did appreciate her enthusiasm.
“I hope you’re not like this around clients. You’d scare the shit out of ‘em and never hire your firm again!”
She laughed. “Then it’s good I don’t have any clients in Hawaii because we are OFF. THE. CLOCK! Woo!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Erica this excited. Granted, she’s seven years older than me, having just turned 30, so it’s not like I ever got to see what she was like as a child. Though I imagine it’s similar to this.
Already Erica was dancing and juking side-to-side like a boxer getting pumped up for a fight. “C’mon Will, you gettin’ excited? You ready for Hawaiiiiii?”
“Heh well…” I said sheepishly at first, but thought about her question. “Actually, yes. I am. I mean, we’re not even at the resort and I feel better. LA’s nice and all… but Hawaii just hits different.”
Erica smiled warmly. “Then I brought the right person! C’mon, let’s get a cab.”
Our resort was a not-so-convenient 45-minute trip from the airport. But I barely noticed for two reasons. 1) Erica wouldn’t shut up the entire time about how ‘luxurious’ her experience was flying first class, and 2) the scenery of the Hawaiian islands was simply unmatched. Lush greenery, crystal-clear skies, towering mountains in the distance, and with the windows rolled down, the soothing smell of the ocean.
As we traded the highway for the countryside, we passed pineapple farms and quaint little roadside stands selling what must be the freshest fruit. If the flight itself hacked off one chunk of my anxiety and creative fogginess, I can safely say the ride to the resort hacked off another.
Finally, I spotted a road sign directing us to ‘Ocean Oasis Beach Resort’ — our home for the next two weeks.
“There it is!” I pointed out. “Ocean Oasis, half a mile away!”
I turned to Erica who, curiously, didn’t look quite as eager. In fact, she was keeping an eye out for something.
“Actually, you can drop us off at that little café up there,” she instructed the cab driver. “The one with the blue sign. See it?”
The man shrugged but did as told, pulling off to the side.
“What are you doing?” I prodded, puzzled. “The resort’s up there. You can see it!”
But Erica didn’t answer me. Instead, she left the car and stood silently as the cab driver helped remove our bags. She paid the fare, tipped the man, and sent him away without answering my question.
“Uhh, hey? Why did we stop?” I repeated. “Now we gotta walk the rest of the way!”
Erica paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Her joy and attitude from the airport and most of our cab ride had been stripped away, replaced with how I imagine she presents herself at work.
“Will, there’s one little wrinkle in our plans. You know how I said I won a trip for two?”
I gulped, suddenly fearful of my sister. “Yeah…”
“Well it is for two people…”
Erica swiftly unzipped her suitcase and pulled out a garment atop her clothes pile – a light, flowy, yellow garment that looked a lot like a dress.
She looked me dead in the eyes. “...but it’s a trip for two girls. So I need you to put this on.”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Two more sample chapters will be posted this week, but the entirety of Two Weeks of Wendy is on Amazon right now!
Thanks for reading :)
-Jennifer
AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Two-Weeks-Wendy-Gradual-Feminization-...
Two Weeks of Wendy: A Gradual Feminization Novel (Ch. 2)
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
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***FYI This is second of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***
CHAPTER TWO
“Woah woah woah woah WOAH,” I spat out, each ‘woah’ louder and more incredulous than the last. “Erica, what the HELL are you talking about?”
My sister held her hand out in an attempt to steady my nerves, anticipating the explosion. “Will… It’s not that big of a deal…”
“NOT A BIG DEAL?” I screamed, though quickly hushing myself as other tourists walked by. “You’re saying you brought me on a girls’ trip and saying I need to wear a dress. That sounds like a big ass deal to me!”
Erica rolled her eyes. “First of all, it’s not a dress. It’s a kimono.” She waved the flowery yellow garment in my face. “See? Long sleeves. More like a robe than anything else.”
I sighed, annoyed at how she completely missed my point.
“Fine, a kimono. But a girl’s kimono. For a GIRLS trip!”
“Alright, alright… Confession time,” Erica began softly. “I registered for the trip thinking Marie and I would go. You remember Marie, right?”
Yeah… I guess I remember Marie. She’s a high school friend of Erica’s who she reconnected with when she moved back to Chicago last year. Kinda felt like a weird first choice though.
“Okay, sure. So why didn’t you bring her?”
Erica groaned. “At the last second Marie’s boss changed her mind about letting her work remotely for that long. So… I kiiinda lied about my timeline and invited you instead. But hey, maybe it’s good she dropped out because now we can do a sibling trip for the first time in… ever?”
At this point, my face had been contorted for so long it was starting to hurt.
“Look, here’s the deal,” she continued. “We’re in what’s called a ‘bachelorette suite’, meaning at check-in, they need to see two girls rather than a guy and a girl. But I promise, once we’re settled in the room, you can take off the kimono and we can pretend the whole thing never happened.”
I didn’t love how cavalier Erica was about all this. Not one bit. Plus, the fact that she straight-up lied to me felt like a punch in the gut. But I had to remind myself what I was getting in return: a mostly free, most-expenses-paid trip to a Hawaiian resort for two freaking weeks. That’s a hell of a consolation prize. Maybe in exchange — and just this once — I can be a good sport and play along.
“Ugh… fine,” I finally answered her.
Erica giddily jumped up and down like she’d just won the lottery.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” she exclaimed, shoving the kimono into my hands. “Well? Put it on!”
I briefly froze, forgetting for a moment how to even put on clothes. But sure enough, just like a bathrobe, I slipped on the kimono over my t-shirt and shorts, tying it up in the center, to cover all hints of male clothing — well, other than my sneakers.
The garment itself was extremely thin and soft. I’d never worn a kimono before and I must confess I was struck with the material. The flowers I probably could’ve done without, but the robe itself felt quite, uh… nice.
“Silk?” I asked Erica, prompting a nod from her. “You… you wear these around the house?”
Erica smirked. “Taking a liking to it, eh? Feels even better when you don’t wear it over boy clothes.
I involuntarily blushed. “No! It’s just, uh…” I paused, catching myself mindlessly caressing the material. “I guess it’s not as bad as I thought.”
“Well that’s good,” Erica reached toward me and in one motion undid my ponytail, letting my auburn locks fall to my shoulders.
“Damn your hair’s gotten long!” she said, seriously taken aback. “It’s longer than mine!”
I rolled my eyes. Hair length isn’t exactly what I want to be reminded of while wearing something like this.
Erica winked and zipped up her suitcase. “I guess that’s good too. It’ll only help with our deception!”
Luggage in hand, I followed Erica down the sidewalk and toward what’d be, I assume, the most stressful part of this beach vacation.
I was anxiously approaching the hotel, finicking with my kimono and nervously toying with my hair as my eyes darted between each person we passed. I felt like an animal in a zoo, knowing everyone was staring at me. I mean, they had to… right? A boy in a girly, flowery kimono? They’d have every right to point and laugh.
And yet, it was going just fine. Even entering the magnificent Ocean Oasis lobby — packed with eager tourists and busy hotel staff, all scurrying about the tropical, fantastical foyer — no one seemed to take issue with my appearance. Still, not looking to push my luck, I held my head down and kept mum.
Erica, confident as ever, approached the front desk where a smiling, middle-aged woman in a casual navy blazer greeted us.
“Aloha!” the woman offered cheerfully. “Welcome to Ocean Oasis. Are we checking in?”
“Yes, we are,” my sister answered. “We’re the sweepstakes winners with WATT FM.”
The woman nodded, aware of the contest as she clacked away at her keyboard, pulling up our reservation. “Erica Quinn? For the bachelorette suite?”
“Yes ma’am,” she answered. “And this is my guest, Wendy.”
Wendy? Though my eyes stayed pinned firmly to the floor, they opened wide upon hearing that name.
Wendy?
“Welcome Erica, and welcome Wendy,” the receptionist replied without missing a beat. As you know, the room is already covered courtesy of your contest.” She handed my sister a set of key cards. “These are for your suite. One of our bellhops will escort you to your room. Sincerely, girls, enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you so much!” Erica cheered, though she paused before nudging me along.
“Uh, thanks!” I squeaked out as well in a shamelessly high-pitched voice.
Perfectly on cue, a male bellhop grabbed our bags and gestured to follow him. I nodded with a little smile desperately trying to avoid any problem, but the moment he turned around I fiercely gripped my sister’s arm and pulled her in close.
“Wendy!?” I whisper-screamed. “What’re you giving me a girl’s name for?”
She didn’t hesitate to match my temper and grip. “Until we’re in the room… YOU’RE. A. GIRL. Don’t blow this!”
I huffed quietly but held my tongue, walking silently behind the bellhop as he led us through the resort and hotel halls.
As it turns out, our suite was a considerable walk from the check-in desk — though considering the impressive size of the lobby I should expect the same from the rest of the resort. Spending additional time shuffling around in this kimono wasn’t ideal, but it did give us a chance to appreciate its scale and beauty.
To its credit, the hotel was legitimately stunning. The nautical theme enveloped every nook and cranny, hammering in the ‘ocean’ of it all while being tasteful rather than tacky. Exquisite paintings of sea creatures hung throughout the halls and common areas. Majestic gold and maritime-blue color motifs were so ever-present, I wouldn’t be surprised if Poseidon himself were the designer.
“Your room, ladies,” the bellhop announced, approaching a grand, maritime-blue door with gold accents.
“You’re a saint, sir!” Erica complimented, retrieving a tip from her purse.
With Erica’s cash in hand, the bellhop tipped his cap and wished us a wonderful vacation. But as he walked away, Erica shot me a sly little smirk.
“Ladies…” she teased, imitating the bellhop.
“Ughhh,” I groaned at the unfortunate ease of passing as a woman. While my sister took a moment to reflect on the resort’s fun eccentricities, I wasted no time ripping the key card out of her hand and bursting open the door for some sweet, sweet privacy. As much as I wished to rip off the kimono the first chance I got, I couldn’t help but gawk at what’d be our home for the next two weeks. Because boy were we getting spoiled…
The suite’s interior was simple but elegant: two cushy queen beds, a small but functional kitchenette complete with mini-fridge, microwave, and gold-colored sink, a baby-blue loveseat, and of course, a sizable bathroom with – surprise-surprise – a painting of a sea turtle. The room was impressive, sure, but I’d be remiss not to mention the real selling point of the room.
“Wow…” Erica said, her mouth agape.
“Incredible…” I echoed.
Of course, the catalyst of our awe was the breathtaking, unmatched view of the ocean. Any remaining reservations I had about this trip immediately washed away looking at that crystal clear ocean, the vast, golden beach, and our adorable, private, third-floor balcony overlooking it all. Even for a Los Angeles resident like myself familiar with coastal beauty, this view blew my freaking mind.
I slid open the floor-to-ceiling door as the sweet smell of ocean breeze rushed into our room, engulfing us in its wonder. My sister and I had officially arrived in paradise.
Tenderly, Erica stepped beside me and put her arm around my shoulder. “Still mad about that kimono after getting a view like this?”
Mesmerized, I shook my head. How could I be? I’m basking in ocean serenity and Hawaiian bliss.
“I’ll get over it…” I whispered, still entranced by our sensational setup. “Could have gone without the Wendy stuff, but…”
“Cute name though, yeah?” Erica chuckled. “It just came to me!”
I shrugged, refusing to weigh in on the ‘cuteness’ of my temporary girl name. Erica reached across my face to tuck away a strand of my loose auburn hair that got unsettled by the wind.
“You did great though, Will.”
“Heh, thanks…” I answered, finally snapping out of my sea stare and turning my focus to the kimono. “I’m done with this thing, yeah?”
“Sure,” my sister answered, though with a bit of waver in her voice. “I’m gonna hang back here for a minute though. Go explore the resort. Remember, it’s your vacation too.”
========
To be completely honest, the whole ‘Wendy’ bit didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. Partly because it was so short-lived, but mostly because it was merely a speed bump in pursuit of a restorative trip.
I did exactly as Erica recommended and took my time exploring the grounds of Ocean Oasis. And it’s safe to say I was thoroughly impressed.
The resort had everything a vacationer could want. The beautiful, golden beaches stretched on for miles, speckled with resort guests and tourists alike working on their tans. Surfers took to the water to carve up waves with the cockiest ones doing goofy dances atop their boards to impress their friends on land.
A multitude of restaurants lived alongside the beach walkway offering all types of cuisine. Some were fancy and others casual, but each spot had its own unique styles, smells, and staff all beckoning passers-by to partake in a tasty meal.
Eventually, I encountered what many would consider the calling card of any vacation resort: the pool. No legitimate resort is complete without a pool, and The Oasis Pool Club was so much more than that. Giant slides for the kids, a pool bar and cabanas for the adults, and fun, energetic music played by an extremely gregarious DJ, trying nonstop to get the loungers and swimmers to get up and dance.
I spent well over an hour wandering about and taking in the scene. Ocean Oasis felt like the perfect mix of elation and relaxation, and I couldn’t wait for Erica to see it all too. For an introvert like myself, it was a tad overwhelming at times, but at the very least I knew it was a place my sister could thrive.
After what felt like a thorough self-tour of the estate, I decided to head back to the room. But something new caught my eye. About a quarter-mile down from the turn-off to our hotel, well past the resort and beyond a stretch of rocks, was a section of abandoned beach.
Curious, I approached it, traversing the large, slippery stones to find, yes, a small patch of beach, but also a lone palm tree planted in the sand with a blue Adirondack chair nestled beneath.
“Hmm…” I muttered, approaching the tree and observing my surroundings. Being so far off the resort, it wasn’t terribly surprising no one was here. And clearly, whoever had put this chair here hadn’t used it in years. It was sandy, dirty, and in desperate need of a paint job.
But still, the serene, private set-up felt very zen. The hectic, vibrant nature of Ocean Oasis was nice, but something about this spot felt cozy and warm. Without even thinking, I slipped off my shoes, dug my toes into the sand, and sunk my butt into the chair. God this felt relaxing. Nothing around me but a vast ocean. I felt focused and dialed in.
Wait…
Was this the feeling I was searching for? Had I actually unlocked an at-peace, creative mindset ready to write?
A smile crept onto my face even as a gust of wind rushed by and messed up my hair. I had come to a decision. In this chair, next to this tree is where I will finally start my next script.
I had no idea what I’d be writing about, but for the first time in months, I felt ready to write again. And damn did it feel good.
Not wanting to keep Erica waiting, I took note of my new sanctuary’s location and returned to the hotel.
The feeling of finally taking a first step toward relieving my brain fog and writer's block was unbelievably freeing. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I was so giddy that I even skipped a little on the quick journey. Hopefully, nobody saw.
I couldn’t wait to tell Erica about my new spot as I hurtled through the hotel lobby on my way back to our room. Until, strangely, I spotted another curious thing out of the corner of my eye.
A man. A familiar man…
Without catching his attention, I dug deep in my memory for where I knew his face. A tall man with a strong jawline and short, curly, dark hair… Heh, you know, if anything, that describes my sister’s type to a T.
Then it hit me. The man I passed… of course he’s my sister’s type – because that man’s name is Carter.
Carter, my sister’s ex-boyfriend!
My heart started to race. It wasn’t a perfect look, but long enough for the memories to rush back in. Carter was Erica’s boyfriend in college. I never met him and hadn’t seen his face beyond pictures, but I had no doubt it was him. And if he’s here in the lobby, then he must also be a guest.
Suddenly, my creative inspiration felt like the least important thing in the world as I sprinted back to the room to warn Erica. I knew telling her might drudge up bad memories and cause concern, but as her brother, it’s my duty to tell her.
“Erica!” I shouted, bursting into our suite. She was out on the balcony but whipped her head around, concerned.
“Jeez! What’s wrong? Please don’t tell me you’re already hating it here.”
I shook my head. “No, everything’s beautiful. But listen…” I paused, steadying my voice. “This may be hard for you to hear, but you deserve to know. I ran into someone in the hotel lobby. Someone from your past.”
Erica, to my surprise, didn’t flinch. She said nothing as she stood up and closed the balcony door behind her.
“You saw Carter, didn’t you?” she asked calmly.
“W-what?” I stammered back. “Yeah! How did y—“
Instead of rage or fear or dread, Erica approached me evenly, sitting us down on the edge of the bed and sighing.
“Will, I have one more confession…”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
One more sample chapter will be posted this week, but the entirety of Two Weeks of Wendy is on Amazon right now!
Thanks for reading :)
-Jennifer
AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Two-Weeks-Wendy-Gradual-Feminization-...
Two Weeks of Wendy: A Gradual Feminization Novel (Ch. 3)
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
TG Elements:
Other Keywords:
Permission:
***FYI This is third of three chapters that will be shared here on BC***
CHAPTER THREE
My brow furrowed and my body tensed. We weren’t even a full day into our trip and already Erica was on her second confession.
“Erica…” I began cautiously. “What are you talking about? You knew he was here?”
It took her a moment, but Erica swallowed hard and nodded.
“Yes, okay? I knew he’d be here. But please just hear me out.” She took a deep breath and began to explain. “When Carter and I broke up at the end of college, I unfollowed him on everything — Instagram, Facebook, everything — because I didn’t want any feelings to fester. And, honestly, it was for the best considering he eventually found a fiancée who’s way prettier than I ever was.”
Already I was shaking my head with disappointment. “Jesus… So you’re here to home-wreck. Do you have any idea how bad of an idea that is!?”
“No no no!” she insisted, holding out her hand. “I don’t follow him but Marie does. And a month ago she noticed Carter’s been super active with his life updates. He got this fancy new job in Dallas, called off his engagement to that girl, and… well… he won a two-week sweepstakes trip to Ocean Oasis.”
Everything slowly made more sense.
“So this whole trip…” I began to surmise. “This whole sweepstakes. We didn’t actually win?”
“The trip is 100% real. I really did win the sweepstakes.” Erica asserted. She bashfully dangled her feet off the bed like a nervous tween. “It just wasn’t quite as, uh, spontaneous as I made it seem.”
I let out a small sigh of relief, pleased that at least some of her original story was truthful. The last thing I needed was to find out we were paying out of pocket. Or worse, that we scammed the resort. Still, my fury toward Erica was present and justified.
“Look, Will, I’m sorry I lied,” she said cautiously, likely noticing my skin reddening with rage. “But, shit… I’ve been looking back on those days recently and I really think Carter was the one! Maybe it’s my move back to Chicago or turning 30, but every fucking day I think about how breaking up with him was the biggest mistake I ever made. And winning the bachelorette sweepstakes… I honestly think it’s a sign from a higher power.”
I’d never claim to understand how my sister’s brain functions. Hell, sometimes I doubt she even knows what’s going on. But the way she was talking about Carter — whether in her best interest or not — it was clear she still cares about him. Sincerely and passionately.
“Two weeks,” I stated. “Two weeks is all you think you need for him to… to what? Fall in love with you again?”
Erica shrugged. “Maybe not ‘fall in love’, but at least show him I’ve grown and matured. I mean, I dumped him, so it’s my responsibility to make it up to him, right? I owe him that much.”
I was impressed by the level of self-reflection and maturity Erica had shown — even if flying across the country to a Hawaiian resort for a pre-planned meet-cute is still pretty insane. But for someone who’s chronically indecisive and vacillated between jobs and cities her whole life, it was refreshing to see her stick to her guns and go after what she felt was right.
After a sequence of deep breaths and convincing myself not to strangle my sister on the spot, I was able to think rationally again.
“So what do you need from me?” I asked, followed by a sharp gulp upon remembering the type of suite we were in. “The whole… Wendy thing. That’s done, right?”
“Oh, definitely,” Erica quickly assured me. “There’s a bunch of sweepstakes winners staying at the resort. Some won trips for two and some got solo trips. Was Carter with anyone?”
I shook my head. “He was alone.”
“Perfect. So he’s a solo tripper and as far as he knows, so am I.”
“But hold on. Solo trip?” I clarified. “So what, am I supposed to hide for two weeks?”
Erica put her hand on my shoulder. “Will, have you seen this place? It’s ginormous! You don’t have to disappear. Plus, he doesn’t have to know we’re staying together.”
With so much lying packed into the first day of our trip, adding yet another lie to the pile made me feel icky. Particularly one that directly involved me.
“I was gonna tell you about this before I saw Carter, but I found a little alcove on the beach a quarter-mile down. I took a seat and… I dunno… I got weirdly inspired to write again. Maybe if it’s all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll spend most of my days down there. Finally, you know, doing what a writer is supposed to do.”
“That’s incredible!” she cheered. “It’s perfect for both of us. Heh… you know, in a roundabout way, aren’t we kind of both here for redemption? I’m here to reconnect with Carter. You’re here to reconnect with your creative side.”
I nodded along, agreeing. This whole trip could be about reconnecting – even the two of us reconnecting as siblings. Wouldn’t that be something?
No, Erica hadn’t exactly earned my trust. At least yet. But there’s a difference between deception and desperation, and Erica’s scenario felt more like the latter.
I’m only 23 years old. I have no idea what it’s like to be in your 30s, still single, and yearning for the past. But I can sure as hell empathize with her fear. And the least I can do — even with how uncomfortable it makes me feel — is to cheer her on as she seeks her own redemption.
========
While the reason behind our trip may have changed, it didn’t mean our activities had to. In addition to exploring a bit more of the resort, Erica and I took the chance to read through every guide, brochure, and catalog on the Ocean Oasis resort and the Hawaiian island of Oahu. And the more I learned, the more I felt two weeks wasn’t enough time!
Though Erica and I arrived as equals, we both quietly understood that this was more her trip than it was mine. She won the sweepstakes, she’s here on a mission to reconnect with Carter – my role is merely the travel companion and vacation mooch. But I’m perfectly happy with that. The change of scenery coupled with the island’s energy was already reinvigorating me as a writer.
Our first official ‘plan’ as guests at the Ocean Oasis was a dinner reservation booked at one of the hotel’s seven — yes, seven — restaurants. Erica insisted we start off with a bang and dive right into the island culture with a traditional Hawaiian seafood meal. The restaurant she selected was called Rainbow Kitchen and apparently known for its Hawaiian Yellowtail or ‘Kanpachi’.
“I read that Guy Fieri used to come here,” Erica noted as we were seated at the table. “Surprising considering nothing here is drowned in barbecue sauce.”
“Hmm,” I replied, distracted by the overwhelmingly leafy decor. In some regards, it felt like a Hawaiian Rainforest Café — albeit with a much better menu. The restaurant was pretty crowded too, which made it excellent for people watching. In the middle of our first cocktail, I pointed toward a couple that appeared to be fighting.
“What’s their story?” I gestured subtly. “Your three o’clock.”
“Oh, those two? Hmm…” she mulled, staring at the younger woman and her much older companion while coming up with a story. “They’re on a weekend trip — one she initially didn’t want but came around on. So she put in effort to look good, and now she’s upset that he’s not paying enough attention to her.”
I peered across the restaurant toward the table. Our view was partially blocked by a sprawling plant in the middle of the dining room, but I could see her grab her dress material and shake it furiously as if to say ‘Is this not what you want!?’.
“Damn,” I chuckled. “I think you’re spot-on!”
Erica leaned back, cocky. “I’m an ace. Give me another one.”
Again, I glanced around the restaurant until I found a group of four friends — three men and a woman, all in their 40s. “Okay, do them.”
Erica cracked her knuckles and narrowed her focus. Neither of us could hear, but through expression and body language alone, she delivered her verdict.
“The balding guy is in love with the girl, but she’s dating Green Shirt. He came along on this trip hoping to get her to notice him but he’s too much of a wuss to make an actual move. Either that, or he respects his friend too much to even try. That’s why he’s so sad.”
I smiled and shook my head, deeply impressed. “And what about the third guy? Red Shirt.”
She squinted hard, trying her best to get a read on the man from behind.
“Hmm…” she muttered. “He’s not giving me much… but I get the sense he’s obsessed with his job. Can’t unplug. Ah, look!”
Erica pointed to the man who, on cue, slyly pulled out his phone beneath the table.
“He’s answering a work email. I guarantee it. The guy is a workaholic.”
I gave my sister a polite golf clap, applauding her gift of people-reading.
“You’re really fucking good at this, aren’t you?”
She shrugged and smiled. “I’m a consultant, I travel and work with new people every day. Comes with the job, I guess.”
It was at that moment that I realized something that hadn’t yet leapt into my mind. Was this the first ever solo dinner I had with my sister? I mean, think about it… She’s seven years older than me, so it’s not like we hung out growing up. Sure we ate breakfast or lunch at the kitchen table, but it’s not the same thing as going out for a real meal.
I thought about this more as we chatted and worked through our tasty Kanpachi. She’d always been my sister, but this trip was creating a whole new dynamic. Two adults. Two friends.
“So, this private beach spot,” Erica said in the middle of a bite. “You said it inspired you to write. But write what? Another alien thing?”
“I mean… I guess so,” I answered, though with little confidence. “That's all I’ve ever written.”
She raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her cocktail. “Well, why not mix it up? Write about people for once?”
The way she said it felt like she was mocking me.
“Yeah. If only it were that easy,” I bemoaned.
“I think it is,” she added with a smug look on her face. “Look what I just did. I didn’t know those random peoples’ situations — I mean, I know I’m right… but it’s just made up. Have you ever considered writing about a relationship?”
Immediately I scoffed at her. “Yes, Erica, I’ve considered it. I just suck at it.”
“How come?”
I paused, briefly weighing how much of my personal life I should expose to my sister. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I just felt like I owed her some candor.
“Well… I’ve never been in a relationship.”
Erica nearly spit out her drink. “You haven’t dated anyone??”
Immediately I turned red and regretted saying a single word. “Not, like, officially! Okay? So what?”
“Wow…” my sister said, shocked and sinking into her seat. “I guess we do have a lot to learn about each other.”
Ugh. I wish she hadn’t brought that up. Until now the meal had actually been quite pleasant. Though to her credit, I think Erica knew it stung.
“I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? You’re a professional writer. I’m not. But if I can give my two cents... Stories are about people, right? And you can’t sit alone and not interact with anyone and expect to be inspired.”
With our plates cleaned, Erica signaled to our server for the check.
“We’re in Hawaii with a ton of fun, cute people,” she reminded me. “Maybe try meeting some. It could help your writing.”
I didn’t exactly disagree with her, but at the same time wasn’t in the mood to be taking unsolicited relationship advice from the girl who flew across the country for an ex.
However, before I could say anything else, Erica’s face went cold.
“Shit!” she yelped, pointing with her eyes directly behind me. “He’s here!”
“What??” I quickly jumped into full alarm mode. “You mean Carter?”
Erica shot up from her seat and grabbed my wrist. “Yes, I mean Carter!!”
I stared at Erica, not entirely sure what she wanted from me.
“HE’S WALKING OVER! HIDE IN THE BATHROOM!” she whisper-screamed.
I shot up from my seat like it was on fire, juking around the restaurant foliage and scooting into the nearest bathroom which was, thankfully, right near our table.
The door locked, lights off for some reason, I could hear Erica through the bathroom Erica muttering “Shit! Shit! Shit!” to herself as a man’s footsteps approached our table.
“Well, well, well… Erica Quinn!?” Carter announced. “I thought it was you!”
“Carter Harris,” my sister replied, putting on her best, flirtatious voice. “No freaking way. What a coincidence!”
Even though there was no chance he could know I was listening through the bathroom vent, I kept my mouth zipped shut.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I heard her ask, obviously well aware of his circumstances. “Of all the resorts in the world…”
The two of them went on like this for a while re-stating the absurdity behind their run-in, offering loose details on what they’ve been up to, how she’d moved back to Chicago from New York, how Carter started a new job in Dallas… and of course, complimenting how ‘stunning’ one another looked. I found it funny how easily my sister could put on this faux ignorant persona. Though I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised – she’d done it to me twice already.
It was pretty surreal listening to the two of them talk. Carter, who I’d only seen in pictures, was here in the flesh. Dug up from Erica’s past and, Bam! Right back in her life. I gotta give my sister credit. She made this happen. Not that Carter knows that.
“So tell me,” Carter said after an awkward pause. “Who’s, uh… Who’s here?”
I couldn’t see a thing, but it was clear the conversation had moved to the apparent empty plate and seat right in front of her.
“Oh, who’s here?” Erica repeated Carter’s question, but not like she didn’t hear him. More like she was stalling for time.
You’re kidding me! Erica planned out lies for everything except this? I mean, shit, just say you’re with a friend! But as it turned out, Erica’s answer wouldn’t have mattered a lick.
“Wait,” Carter went on. “It’s Wendy, isn’t it?”
Huh?
“Huh?” Erica echoed my thoughts.
“Yeah,” Carter said. “There was a little posting in the lobby of the sweepstakes winners. I remember reading ‘Erica and Wendy’. Though I didn’t realize Erica was you.
Shit. Shit shit shit! I wanted more than anything to sprint out of the bathroom and reveal myself to him. To put a stop to this Wendy nonsense once and for all. Just cut my losses and chalk it up as a silly misunderstanding. In fact, I did reach for the door handle, but not before Erica put the nail in the coffin.
“Oh yes! That’s right. Wendy’s my cousin. My friend couldn’t make it so I invited her instead. But she’s in the bathroom now. G.I. issues, I think…”
I slapped my forehead with such force that I was genuinely surprised she couldn’t hear me from outside.
Carter awkwardly chuckled at her overshare. “Cool…” he replied. “Well, I hope she’s feeling better.”
“She’ll be fine. Just might be a while! Girls being girls, I guess!”
I never wanted to smack Erica more than I did right now.
“Well, hey, uh… You still have my number, right?” Carter added, sounding like he was on his way out. “Text me. Would love to, you know, catch up and hang.”
“I’d love that!” My sister beamed.
Red face, sweaty palms, and fury in my soul, I spent another 60 seconds pacing in the bathroom before promptly returning to the table where my sister was done paying the check.
“Hey! We’re all cl—” she started but abruptly stopped as she saw the beginnings of my conniption.
“Don’t you dare say we’re all clear!” I shouted, even catching the attention of a few diners. Erica should be lucky we were in public because I. Was. FURIOUS.
It took her a moment, but she looked at the bathroom wall to our right and put two and two together.
“Oh… You heard…”
I nodded stoically.
She shot me a sheepish, embarrassed look. “Maybe I need a little more Wendy time than I thought.”
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
That's it for the sample chapters unfortunately :( But the entirety of Two Weeks of Wendy is on Amazon right now!
Thanks for reading :)
-Jennifer
AMAZON LINK: https://www.amazon.com/Two-Weeks-Wendy-Gradual-Feminization-...