...he was willing to sell it all to be with Dee. It was just *stuff* after all.

Dee was... different. She was the first woman he’d allowed himself to become friends with. Dee was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. But she was much more. She was incredibly smart. Funny. Interesting. Lovable. Colin did love Dee; she was the first woman since his sisters that he loved.
 

Chapter 2

Dina pulled into her parents’ lane. It was over a mile long and lined with ancient oaks that shaded the arriving visitor. Hundreds of acres of corn, soybeans and deep green pasture spread out on either side all the way to the Chesapeake in the distance. Her family were “gentleman farmers,” having worked their ancestral land for generations.

But they didn’t simply rest on their legacy; the Callahans were workers. Mother, Irene Ewing Callahan, was a respected oncologist at Johns Hopkins and Daddy, John T. Callahan III, was a lawyer who sat on the board of a dozen different corporations. Her uncle Robert had a doctorate in agriculture and ran the family farm and local businesses. He and his wife Virginia and their four children lived three miles away on another of the family’s landholdings.

She parked in front of the portico and strolled through the front doors. Her parents weren’t home yet. Usually on Friday evenings in summer they met for a leisurely dinner somewhere on the western side of the bay rather than fight the heavy traffic crossing the bridge. She always felt comfortable and safe in this house. It was the one doubt she retained at the thought of moving in with Colin: leaving her home and her family.

Dina had grown up a tomboy. She spent nearly all her free time with her uncle Bobby and his four boys. Her cousins had treated her as a fifth brother. They played outside all year round, either in their back yards or ranging afield to the shores of the bay or into one of several woods on the family property. It was an idyllic Tom Sawyer-esque childhood made possible by her family’s fantastic wealth and privilege.

But life was not all fun and games for Dina and her cousins. From the earliest age they worked. The children were responsible for caring for the family livestock (the commercial stock was the provence of hired hands). The family grew much of what they ate; their milk, eggs, butter, cheese, beef, pork and chicken came from their own home stock. She had brought in the cows for milking, collected eggs from the small flock of laying hens, tended the goat herd and fed the pigs right alongside her male cousins. Not to mention caring for the horses and family pets.

She loved caring for the animals and learning their lore intimately. She’d been something of a loner at school, being more interested in animals than normal girls’ interests. It wasn’t until she blossomed at thirteen that she achieved any degree of popularity. She’d started summer as a skinny plain tomboy and returned that fall as a stunning, long legged beauty. Suddenly all her male classmates were awkward and tongue tied around her and her female peers either envied her or wanted to hang with her.

Somehow Dina’s looks never went to her head. Even though she’d become one of the cool kids, she still found more pleasure in helping birth a calf than shopping or a makeover. She learned that looks and first impressions were important and affected how people perceived her so she became adept in presenting herself to best advantage. But that was just practicality, like brushing your teeth or trimming your nails, in her mind.

Her uncle Bobby had instilled in her a love of biology that ultimately inspired her field of study in college. Her mother had encouraged her to do something that would help mankind. And her father had assured her that she was the best no matter what, making her strive for nothing short of excellence. She was a product of her large close-knit family relationships and she knew it and loved them all the more for it.

As close as Dina was to her family, Colin was distant from his own. He rarely talked about them. She hinted more than once that she’d like to meet his family but he showed no interest. She’d learned that his mother had disappeared when he was a teen -- probably fleeing some form of abuse, Dina surmised. He had two older sisters, twins, and no brothers. His father was *never* mentioned. It dismayed her that he was so estranged from his family and she’d resolved to do what she could to reunite them. She was so much in love with her own family that she was certain Colin would feel the same if she managed to bring them back together.

She approached the issue like the scientist she was. Each little snippet of information she gleaned was carefully analyzed and duly recorded. Over time she learned he was a first generation immigrant from Ireland and they’d settled somewhere around Boston. But she was unprepared for just how many O’Brien’s lived in the greater Boston area...

Colin sat amidst a pile of junk in his one bedroom apartment. He lived in an old house divided into four apartments in a tiny village that didn’t even have a post office or gas station. He had a roll of stickers and worked at pricing each item for sale. It was amazing how much stuff he’d accumulated over the years.

But he was willing to sell it all to be with Dee. It was just *stuff* after all. He wasn’t the least bit sentimental. Unlike Dee; she was sentimental about everything. She was very attached to her family and she thought everyone should have the same type of relationship with their own family. She’d gently nagged at him to reconnect with his family almost since their first date. But her family were all super successful overachievers -- easy to love.

Not like my old man, may he rot in hell, Colin thought. Good old Seamus O’Brien. Drunken Irishman with a silver tongue. The old bastard couldn’t keep a job to save himself but he was an expert at cadging a drink, ever ready with a joke or some fascinating story. *Everybody* loved Seamus -- even the bill collectors. They were always *so* sorry when they came to repossess the furniture or turn off the electric. No way will I ever trap my family in that kind of life.

Kiera, his mum, was devoted to Seamus. She worked herself like a dog trying to close the gap between starvation and what meager contribution her husband made to the family’s finances. Seamus treated her cooly, even seeming to grow colder as she demonstrated her love for him more ardently. His twin sisters worshipped their father. With his gift of blarney he made each of them feel like the most special girl in the world. On the other hand, Colin’s relationship with his Da was strained at the best of times.

Colin was the baby of the family. Aislinn and Bridget were four years older than him. They had his father’s coloring, the classic Irish freckled redhead. Colin took after his mother, pale skin and coal black hair. He was his mum’s darling and his father’s bane.

When he was young he’d worshipped the twins and lived for their attention. Playing dress-up or Barbies was the highlight of his life. While they were at school he played dollies alone listening in anticipation for the sound of the school bus. He’d put on a hand me down dress and run out the front door to greet them. He thought all their friends were giggling and waving because he was so pretty.

Eventually it was his turn to start school. He was required to wear boy clothes all day. How he hated that! Until one day an older kid on his bus told everyone how he used to dress up to meet the bus. Then he was teased and called a little sissy. He quickly learned how hard life could be. Even his beloved sisters bowed to peer pressure and turned on him. They became his cruelest tormentors. His wonderful world crumbled overnight. From then on he was in a constant struggle to prove his manhood.

His sisters both lorded it over their little brother. He never seemed to have a moment of privacy. There was always an older sister around to boss him or otherwise make him feel small. It got worse when he entered puberty and the twins had a sexy friend over. They’d regale their ravishing friend with stories of how they used to dress him up like a doll or make him the little girl at their tea parties and he’d be left with a flame red face wishing he could sink through the floor.

Mum did all she could to be a buffer between him and his father and sisters. But she was too often absent, working long hours at two jobs just to make ends meet. And the morning of Colin’s thirteenth birthday was the last he ever saw her. After that he was completely at their mercy. His father merely laughed and egged them on whenever his sisters embarrassed him. He was too busy hanging out at his favorite pub to worry over raising a son.

Colin bore it for three years as he grew taller and stronger and the torments grew more inventive and humiliating. By his sixteenth birthday he was bigger than his father but still the girls ruled. They gave him a surprise party attended by his best friend Ben, their very hottest friend Gail, their boyfriends Eddie and Tom, and a guy he’d never met named Butch.

Gail made out with Ben while Colin opened girly wrapped gifts of pink mini skirts, flirty tops, and heels. The piá¨ce de résistance was when Butch wrapped Colin in a hug and told him that he was going to bust “her” cherry. Numbly he allowed Butch to lead him into a bedroom to a chorus of laughing jeers from everyone, including Ben. Once alone together Butch began pawing him and Colin felt helpless. Butch turned to lock the door and Colin dove out the window.

By dawn he was on the first bus headed out of state. He fell asleep and when he woke he got off at the next stop and there began to reinvent himself as a macho male.

When Colin arrived on the Eastern Shore he possessed precisely $378.59 and the clothes on his back. He was a teen runaway but claimed to be older, thanks to his size. He found a job picking produce, doing back breaking work for long hours at little pay. But it was a start. When the season ended he found work at a local garage. Eventually he managed to save enough to pay for diesel mechanics school and got certified. From there he got a better paying job at a large heavy equipment repair and maintenance shop where he’d worked ever since.

He’d spent the past twenty years honing his persona as a macho man. He’d studied marshal arts, learned fencing, become a crack shot and accomplished hunter. He could talk football, baseball and nascar with the best good old boys in his adopted rural home. But he had a dark secret. All those years ago when Butch had taken him in his arms and whispered in his ear Colin had grown rock hard. He found that his greatest turn on was the thought of gender reversal. He was intensely attracted by beautiful women but it was more a form of envy rather than sexual desire.

His sisters, albeit cruel to their baby brother, were both quite pretty and seemed to cruise through life getting their way. They were the apples of their father’s eye and everything seemed so much easier for them. How different his life might have been if he’d been the baby sister rather than the lone boy.

He’d scoured the internet for information on transgenderism. Unfortunately the current science couldn’t help him -- physically he had no hope of ever passing as female. Ironically he was “blessed” with a huge, powerful, all male body and a rugged, handsome manly face. Women routinely flirted shamelessly with him. It was Colin’s misfortune that he desired to *be* them rather than wanting to be *with* them.

Colin dallied with women. Of course he did, what would his persona as a bad-ass macho man be if he weren’t a lady killer. He’d bedded dozens of women over the years. He’d loved them and left them with only a mild sense of guilt. If he’d had a female body he could’ve been friends with them. But that was impossible since he was jealous of what they were born with and his persona dictated a disdain for any form of sensitivity. Until Dee.

Dee was... different. She was the first woman he’d allowed himself to become friends with. Dee was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. But she was much more. She was incredibly smart. Funny. Interesting. Lovable. Colin did love Dee; she was the first woman since his sisters that he loved. Marrying her was the perfect solution.

Even though she was “punishing” him by staying home tonight, Dina couldn’t keep her mind off Colin. She hoped he was miserable all alone in his ratty apartment trying to sort out the junk for his precious yard sale.

Dina powered up her laptop and opened the file named “project reunion”. She quickly scanned down the list of names. Many had already been checked off, others had notations indicating previous attempts at contact. The list was updated as she had opportunity. With mentally crossed fingers she dialed the next number...

Colin tagged the last of his possessions and sighed. Done. At last. Now he turned to the final task. He looked at the pile he meant to keep. Ratty furniture, used computer equipment, plus some DVD’s and books, all of it basically worthless. Except for one item.

His most treasured possession was his only reminder of his mum. It was the one thing he felt any sentimentality about: a cameo of her in silhouette carved in pale pink opal on an emerald green jade background and hung on a delicate silver chain. The oval pendant was about an inch on the long axis and the likeness of his mother was exquisitely rendered in very fine and accurate detail.

He had the impression that the necklace was quite valuable which always puzzled him in light of his parents’ poverty. It alone would probably close the gap in the funds he required for the condo’s down payment but selling it was out of the question.

When Colin returned to the empty house after school on his thirteenth birthday the necklace had been on his pillow. As soon as he touched it he knew his mum was gone for good. He couldn’t explain why but he was absolutely certain.

His Da seemed as if he’d been expecting this day. Colin had cried himself to sleep only to be awakened sometime in the night with Seamus standing in his bedroom doorway. Drunk as usual, but rather than his normal jovial gregariousness, tonight Seamus was melancholy.

He said bitterly, “Happy birthday boy.”

Colin feigned sleep and hoped his father would leave. But Seamus began weeping and muttered, “Kiera love, you made your bargain and now ‘tis time to pay the piper. I pray your soul finds peace.” Eventually he closed the door and staggered away but Colin wondered for hours at the meaning of his words before sleep finally found him again.

“Hallo?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, I’m trying to reach A. O’Brien.”

“I’m Aislinn O’Brien. How can I help you?” she spoke with a mixture of Irish lilt and non-rhotic ‘Bahston’ dialect.

“Oh good. Ms O’Brien my name is Dina Callahan. I’d like to ask you about your brother Colin.” Dina had learned that presuming the person was Colin’s relative got better results than asking if they had a family member named such and such.

“Colin? We haven’t heard from him in years. Is he okay? He’s not in any kind of trouble is he?”

“No, no. He’s fine. He’s not in trouble,” Dina quickly reassured her. She smiled, thrilled to have made a breakthrough after weeks of cold calling. With a barely suppressed giggle she added, “Unless being engaged to me counts as trouble...”

Colin left the office and climbed back into his truck. He’d just dropped off a dozen Roosevelt dimes that he’d ordered from the Internet for $33. It was a pain having to pay this way but he couldn’t argue with the price.

Down the next row over from his unit he noticed a strange scene. Curiosity got the best of him and he stopped the truck to get a better look.

Someone had set up one of those blow up pools in front of unit 12-25. It was about three feet deep and sparkled invitingly in the hot summer sun. A short little fellow was floating in the center on an air mattress. He wore a pair of baggy trunks, a CAT ball cap and dark aviators. Sipping on a straw, he noisily drained a frosted glass adorned with a little pink umbrella. Realizing he was empty, he craned his neck and looked around impatiently. His gaze eventually settled on another little man sprawled on a chaise lounge off to one side of the pool.

“Hey Vinnie!” he shouted out in a strong Brooklyn accent.

Vinnie was also dressed in baggy trunks but he sported a fedora pulled low over his face. Hearing his name, he pushed the hat above his eyes and squinted in irritation. “Yo Paulie, whaddaya need?”

“You seen Nick?” Paulie asked.

“He’s inna back, takin’ care a’ da bucks.” With a vague gesture toward the open storage unit Vinnie settled back in his lounge and pulled the hat back over his eyes again.

Paulie drew in a huge lungful of air and bellowed out in a voice impossibly loud coming from one so small. “Yo Nickeeeee! C’mere!”

In a moment a third little man appeared at the entrance to the storage unit. He wore a pair of jeans and a grimy coca cola tee shirt. His head was a halo of white hair complemented by a luxurious snowy beard. He had quite a beer belly that strained the waistline of his jeans. He was red faced and sweating from the effort of carrying a sack slung over his shoulder.

“What?” Nick grumbled, hitching the sack, which had ‘reindeer chow’ stenciled on it, to a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

“I need a refill,” Paulie waved his empty glass at Nick. “ ‘N dis time go heavier ona rum and easier ona coke.”

“Oh frostbite! Youse dudes’re killin’ me. Cantcha even get your own drinks?”

“Nex’ time check out da point spread more careful before you make a bet, Santa.” Vinnie mumbled from under his hat with a little chuckle.

“Awright, awright,” Nick muttered as he bent over to set the sack on the ground. Just then a large antlered animal poked its head out of the gloom of the storage unit and shoved its nose hard into Nick’s rear end sending him sprawling to the ground in a classic face plant.

Paulie and Vinnie cracked up. Paulie laughed so hard he upended his float and got dunked in the water, bubbles breaking the surface as his guffaws continued underwater.

Nick looked over his shoulder with murder in his eyes and snapped, “Dasher! I mighta knowed it wuz you. Goddess damn a practical jokin’ reindeer.”

The reindeer raised its head and trumpeted. Colin could swear it was laughing.

Nick rolled to his feet and glared at the reindeer. “Laugh now. But jus’ wait’ll Christmas eve. I swear I’m gonna steer that sleigh through every snow storm on da radar.”

Dasher lowered his head and nuzzled Nick gently.

“Too late f’r dat suckin’ up crap.” Nick turned to look at Paulie and Vinnie. “An’ dat goes f’r youse two jokers too. Wait’ll dat bag needs re-packin’ f’r da tenth time, youse gonna laugh den.”

“Oh can it Kringle,” Vinnie said from under his cap. “Or we’ll report you to da union rep. ‘Sides, yer jus’ da front guy. Who da youse t’ink come up wit’ dat advertisin’ deal inna first place? Paulie, dat’s who. So quit yer whinin’ over losin’ a sucker bet, shaddup and get da man a refill.”

Bemused, Colin shook his head and drove off to his own unit.

Colin wrestled the beat up old La-Z-boy recliner off the back of his truck. It wasn’t heavy, just awkward to handle. He scooted it back in a corner and stood to survey his new man cave. There was the recliner and a mini-fridge next to it that doubled as an end table with his laptop sitting on it. A bookshelf made of milk crates and planks held a great many novels by Jack Chalker among others, a stack of little known movie DVD’s beside them. On the top shelf sat a used laser printer. A threadbare braided rug provided some relief from the hard concrete floor. A black halogen floor lamp and several milk crates stuffed full of laser printouts completed the cozy picture.

Marrying Dee was the perfect solution. No one would doubt his masculinity with such a gorgeous wife, and he did love her -- he just wasn’t *in* love with her. But a part of him feared he could never be satisfied with a plain vanilla sex life. How could he marry Dina and yet hold on to some part of his fantasies? This weird storage unit setup was the final piece of the puzzle.

“Perfect!” he murmured, satisfied with his efforts. He checked his cell and saw he had a few hours to kill so he happily settled in the recliner. He leafed through various stapled documents, scanning the cover pages. Finally he pulled out a sheaf whose cover page read ‘Cold Hearted’ and sighed contentedly. He levered the chair back to a reclining position and began to re-read one of his all time favorite stories.

Soon one thing led to another and Colin was busy pleasuring himself, his jeans unzipped and the story fallen to the floor. When he was finished he lay limply in the chair and drifted off. In his dreams he was visited by all the forest animals from ‘Bambi’ who fluttered all around whispering to each other.

Ells silently raised the door to unit 11-11. Two chubby bearded men each barely taller than a three year old followed him into the storage unit. They very theatrically tiptoed around but managed to jostle each other as well as bumping into the sparse furnishings. One of them blew a fine particulate from his open palm, diffusing through the air inside the small cube.

“Be quiet you dolts or you’ll wake him,” Ells stage-whispered to his companions.

One of them whispered back, “Relax boss, I just hit him with enough faerie dust to keep a rhino dreaming for hours.”

“Sorry Boss,” the other said. He reached out and smacked his mate on the back of the head, “You heard him, Bruno, stop making so much noise.”

“Me? Who you callin’ noisy, Max? Your shoes are squeaking.”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

They started chuckling and shoving each other acting like a shrunken version of the three stooges.

“Stop!” Ells’ whisper carried an unexpected note of authority normally absent in his everyday speech.

“Ho! Ellsylwae the Griffin Marshal commands,” Max came to respectful attention, followed quickly by Bruno.

Unprepossessing as he was Ells was actually a legendary Seelie personage; one of the three Grand Marshals of the Army of the Light -- the Griffin Marshal, the Chimera Marshal and the Basilisk Marshal who, along with the Kraken Admiral, were the supreme commanders of the Sidhe in war. He didn’t often assume his mantle of power, but when he did other Fey took notice.

“That’s better lads,” Ells slipped back into his laid back persona. “Can’t be too careful. Wouldn’t do to rouse our boy-o here.”

“Gotcha, we’ll be quiet,” Bruno responded.

“Good, now let’s find out a bit more about our Mr. Colin O’Brien here.”

To be continued...

“Honey?”

Colin glanced up. He calmed his mind, preparing himself for what was to come. He was very familiar with the syrupy, slightly wheedling tone Dee was using. She wanted something and didn’t want him to realize he was being manipulated. She would be mortified and loudly deny she ever did such a thing if he were to make the mistake of mentioning it to her.
 

Chapter 3

* * * *

“Sooooo, our laddie here dreams of being a lass. Interesting,” Ells mused aloud. He riffled the stack of printouts he’d picked up from where it lay besides Colin’s recliner.

“He’s also got Fey blood in him, just look at that aura,” Bruno muttered.

He handed over the object he’d been peering through at the slumbering Colin. It looked like an old fashioned pair of opera glasses but the lenses were an opaque matte black. When Ells and Max in turn looked through the glasses they clearly saw swirling patterns of silvery tinged rainbow light dancing in the air an inch or so above Colin’s skin.

“Pity we’ve no scryer locally,” Ells commented absentmindedly. A skillful practitioner could read Colin’s aura and determine his bloodline back to great grandparents in minutes, even further given reference books and sufficient time.

“This answers some questions but opens up many more. Like which clan is he? Ally or Antagonist? Seelie or Unseelie?” Ells paused, staring off into the distance. He seemed to come to a decision. “Still... he did claim to be Danu dedicated... and the aura’s silver touched... we should extend aid.”

“So what do we do now, Boss?” Max asked.

“What we do best, of course -- make his dreams come true.”

* * * * *

“Your 3:15 is here Ms Callahan. Shall I show them in?”

“Excuse me?” Dina clicked on her calendar and confirmed it was blank. She pressed the intercom button. “Cynthia I thought the afternoon was clear?”

“Sorry, there must have been a glitch when I made the appointment. It’s here on the calendar,” her secretary responded. Dina could hear someone vaguely in the background then Cynthia said in a dreamy voice, “These aren’t the ‘droids we’re looking for.”

“What?” Dina’s voice came sharply from the speaker in the outer office.

Ells turned to Bruno with a frown and a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry boss. I always wanted to try that...” Bruno shrugged and looked up at Ells with a lopsided grin.

“Okay Obi-Wan, stop fooling around and get us in there.”

“Cynthia, show the gentlemen in,” Bruno said to the secretary.

She stood and ushered them through the door to the inner office. Dina rose from behind her desk with a scowl. “That will be all, Cynthia, thank you.”

“Good afternoon gentlemen,” Dina extended her hand to shake. “I’m Director Callahan but please call me Dina.”

“Well ‘tis a pleasure to meet you, Dina lass. I’m Ells and these are my associates, Doctor Dullard and Professor Moron.”

“Excuse me?” Dina pulled her hand back and moved to the interoffice intercom. “If this is your idea of a joke, I’ll have security come listen in -- they have a great sense of humor.”

“Now, now, lassie. Hold your horses, I’ve something important to show you...” Ells stepped forward with his closed hand held up to chest level, palm upwards. Dina turned slightly as he spoke and Ells flicked his fingers outward sending a slightly luminous puff of dust into her face.

Dina blinked, suddenly feeling very warm towards these odd visitors. They were her best friends and she could trust them with her deepest secret thoughts. She smiled and gestured to a conversation corner, “Won’t you sit down?”

Ells and Dina took seats on the sofa while Bruno and Max rummaged through the office, looking in the file cabinets and surfing her computer.

“So tell me something about yourself, lass,” Ells said, opening the floodgates to her soul.

* * * *

“Director! Please, you *know* how delicate these trial samples are!” Marshal Arts, a lead research scientist, whined.

Max and Bruno, the objects of his protests, bounced about the lab poking their noses into everything. Ells and Dina stood to one side discussing the various projects currently in development.

“This is our cancer department. We’re focusing on prostate, testicular, ovarian, breast and cervical carcinomas.” Dina grinned self consciously. “I guess it seems our minds are in the gutter?”

“No, not at all dear girl, please go on,” Ells encouraged.

“We’re working on a new concept of gene re-sequencing to switch off the growth of tumorous cells...”

“Director Callahan -- Dina! I must insist! These gentlemen could ruin thousands of hours of work!”

“Nonsense, Marshal, they won’t hurt anything.”

“Professor, why don’t you show Dr Arts here that pollen sample you’ve got?” Ells said to Bruno.

“Huh?”

“Dust him, idiot!”

“Oh!” Bruno approached Marshal and momentarily all protests stopped and the researcher was falling all over himself in his attempts to be helpful.

“What sort of name is Marshal Arts anyway? Poor laddie’s parents must have fancied themselves quite the jokesters,“ Ells remarked with a shake of his head. “Now lassie, tell me of your boyfriend, Colin.”

* * * *

“So Dina, darlin’ we’re clear on how to help Colin, now aren’t we?” Ells asked. They were back in her office, once more seated in the plush conversation grouping that her rank in the company rated for entertaining important visitors. Bruno and Max were also seated this time but didn’t participate in the discussion, instead they nudged and poked at each other constantly, snickering like four year olds forced to share the backseat on a long car trip.

“Yes, we need to help poor Colin achieve his dream,” Dina said earnestly.

“And Bruno and Max here will be droppin’ by from time to time to assist with the formulation of his medication.”

“Of course, Ells, we’ve been all through this. Dr. Arts knows they have special and exclusive access to treatment material for subject 11-11. Everything’s set. Anonymity. Security. Timeline. Care plan. Nothing’s left to chance.” Dina spoke with authority.

“Ah, lassie, that’s where you’re mistaken,” Ells said with an amused twinkle in his eye. “In my experience *everything* is left to chance.”

* * * * *

The sound of tinkling bells drew Colin’s attention to one of the storage units down the line which had its door rolled up.

A large swarm of sparkly motes swirled in the air over a rack containing upright straws packed closely together. It looked as if each of the sparkles was dripping something, so that a shower of dust sprinkled down into the open ends of the upended straws. After a few minutes of this the sparkles swooped down to the straws and lifted them into the air with several of the flying sparkles carrying each straw. They dropped these into a cardboard carton labeled “Pixie Lix” and flew off.

When the carton was filled more flickering motes came and lifted the box, carrying it into the storage unit. Simultaneously two new battalions of sparkles flew out of the storage unit, one group carrying an empty carton and the second carrying empty straws that they then deposited vertically into the filling rack, and the whole process started over again.

Colin had to indulge his curiosity so he strolled over to get a closer look. Each of the tiny sparkly motes was a perfect little woman with dragonfly wings. They were all replicas of the classic Disney cartoon Tinkerbell. Each miniature girl hovered over the rack of empty straws and strained, wriggling her butt until a tiny droplet fell from her bum. Colin grinned ruefully and was glad he’d never been a big fan of the sticky sweet powdered candy as a child.

He shrugged and returned to his own unit. Colin was finding the activities around the storage units more fascinating than his lair and its contents.

* * * *

“Honey?”

Colin glanced up. He calmed his mind, preparing himself for what was to come. He was very familiar with the syrupy, slightly wheedling tone Dee was using. She wanted something and didn’t want him to realize he was being manipulated. She would be mortified and loudly deny she ever did such a thing if he were to make the mistake of mentioning it to her.

“Mmmm?” he feigned ignorant male inattention and continued flipping through the magazine. One of the unexpected bonuses of moving in with Dee was access to her fashion magazines -- he was reading an issue of Cosmo camouflaged inside a Sports Illustrated. As much as he’d of liked to, he’d never purchased women’s magazines before, always terrified of being spotted by someone he knew.

“Look at me, Colin,” she said, slightly irritated. Ever since her good friend Ells had revealed Colin’s secret desires she’d begun noticing things. For instance how he would appraise the way women looked -- not like a normal guy, zeroing in on boobs or legs or butt; instead he’d notice things that another woman might, like the color she was wearing wasn’t right for her, or she needed a different hairstyle. Or the fact that he knew the names for all kinds of women’s fashions; most men didn’t know the difference between an empire waistline and an A-line dress but Colin did. Now there was his feeble attempt to disguise the fact he was reading her Cosmo inside a sports magazine.

She was discovering that she loved him just as much but in a different way -- more like the sister she never had. She still thought his body was sexy and looked forward to enjoying sex with him while he was still interested. But her view of their relationship was in flux.

When he finally closed the magazine and turned to her she smiled sweetly. “I think I’ve figured out a way for you to earn some extra money. It would help you make your half of the expenses that you insist on paying -- despite, may I remind you, my repeated offers to cover the expenses as necessary.” She waved her hands in the air, consciously stopping herself. “But be that as it may, are you interested?”

“Sure I’m interested. What’s the deal?”

“It’s pretty simple -- I’m surprised I didn’t think of it before. My company has a shortage of male double blind test participants. You could sign up for one of our studies.”

“I don’t know, Dee. I mean testing drugs? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Oh pooh. Don’t be silly Hon. You don’t think I’d ask you to do anything that could harm you, do you?” She looked straight into his eyes, the poster girl for wide-eyed innocence.

“No, I don’t suppose you would... It’s just... well, hell, Dee, I don’t like the idea of putting untested chemicals in my body.”

“They *have* been tested. Extensively. On a variety of animals and cultured cells. These are the final clinical trials. There’s no danger to your health whatsoever. In fact there’s a darn good chance it will *improve* your health.”

“Weeeellllll...”

“It would solve your financial problems -- you’ll be surprised how much we pay. Besides, it would really be a big help to me at work.”

Colin sighed. If he didn’t go along with this she’d pout and make his life a living hell until he finally capitulated. Might as well save himself all that and earn some bonus points in the bargain.

“Okay, okay. What do I have to do?”

* * * *

Colin sat in a paper gown in an exam room and waited. He’d been poked and probed and stuck and stabbed and was losing patience with the whole process. He had just endured a full body MRI scan and hopefully that completed the preliminaries.

A short rap and the door swung open. Dr Marshal Arts -- who named their kid that? -- entered brusquely. He consulted a tablet in silence for a long moment, completely ignoring Colin. Good thing he’s a research Doctor, Colin thought, his bedside manner sucked.

“Okay, looks like you’re all set Mr. ah... O’Brien.” Arts finally looked up and regarded Colin like a side of beef he was contemplating butchering. He consulted his tablet once more then went over to a counter and bustled about in the cabinets and drawers, eventually removing a vial from a small refrigerator and filling a syringe.

He turned back to face Colin holding a small tray containing the syringe, alcohol swabs, gauze pads and bandaids. Colin rolled the sleeve up on his gown and presented his shoulder, but the Dr shook his head, grinned, and twirled his finger indicating Colin needed to turn around and bend over. Colin endured two injections in his gluteus maximus then was instructed to get dressed.

“You need to come back every week for a set of injections,” Arts told him perfunctorily. “Make an appointment with the secretary.” He handed him a couple of pill bottles. “Take these twice a day, the instructions are on the label.”

“Hey wait a minute, Doc,” Colin said quickly as the Dr was turning to leave.

Arts paused with his hand still on the doorknob and gave Colin a look of exaggerated patience.

“What’s this stuff supposed to do to me? Nobody’s even mentioned if it’s some kind of antidepressant, or a new wart medicine, or the cure for the common cold.”

Arts had a pained expression on his face. He spoke as if to a dim witted child. “You’re not *supposed* to know, Mr. O’Brien. There’s at least a 50% chance that nothing at all will happen, you could be receiving a placebo. If it’s the real treatment it might have no effect on you. Or if it does have an effect we don’t want the results to be tainted by any preconceived ideas or expectations you may have.”

“But...”

“No, Mr. O’Brien, no buts. In order to maintain the integrity of the data we must have absolute secrecy.”

Colin sighed, resignedly.

Arts loosened up on his cold, clinical manner and said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, you will *not* be harmed in any way, I can assure you that. If you’ve been given the genuine treatment and it works as expected you may be very pleased with the results. And you’ll be well compensated.”

* * * * *

To be continued...

It was a bit unsettling how much he’d changed in such a short period. He’d lost nearly 20 pounds. His blood pressure was down significantly. His heart rate was slightly elevated. And strangest of all, it seemed he was an inch shorter. Which was ridiculous -- the researcher must have misread the rule.

It didn’t matter anyway, he hadn’t felt this good in years.

Chapter 4

Colin woke early. He sat on the edge of the bed and indulged in a bone cracking stretch of his arms and upper body. Lord but he felt good! Though at 36 he was far from old, twenty years of physical labor had slowly accumulated various creaks and aches in his frame. He’d never really noticed the small pains but their sudden absence was delightful.

He padded into the bath and began his morning routine. Stepping in the shower he felt the normal spray was cooler than usual so he cranked up the hot water a bit. It still didn’t feel right so he turned it up some more until steam was billowing. This was unusual as he normally took a lukewarm shower, finishing up with a minute or so of full on cold to get his blood pumping. The hot water felt wonderful and he went about his usual washing routine omitting the cold rinse at the end.

His skin felt invigorated as he rubbed himself dry and padded over to the sink. He almost skipped shaving because the mirror showed he only had a light shadow on his jawline but he’d already started lathering up on automatic pilot so he went ahead and scraped the slight beard off.

The research associate at Dee’s company finished taking Colin’s measurements. It was his third week in the program and his appointments had become routine. Dr Arts hadn’t dealt with him personally since the first visit. He noted the measurements as she entered them on the tablet she carried.

It was a bit unsettling how much he’d changed in such a short period. He’d lost nearly 20 pounds. His blood pressure was down significantly. His heart rate was slightly elevated. And strangest of all, it seemed he was an inch shorter. Which was ridiculous -- the researcher must have misread the rule.

It didn’t matter anyway, he hadn’t felt this good in years. He slept like a baby and woke refreshed and energized. He had a bounce in his step and a lightness in his movements that made him feel like an Olympic gymnast.

Sex with Dee was unbelievable -- his entire body felt like one huge erogenous zone. He had the stamina of a twenty year old and when he reached climax it lasted longer and was more intense than ever before. Oddly, as great as sex felt, he wasn’t troubled by the constant *need* for sex. If Dee initiated intimate activity he was soon ready to go but otherwise he felt content to just cuddle affectionately.

As great as he felt, it was easy to put the weight loss and height loss (crazy!) out of his mind. He probably needed to drop a pound or two anyway.

Colin brushed his hair. He’d been letting it grow a bit lately since Dee asked, and it now covered the tops of his ears, about an inch and a half long. He never paid it much attention, preferring to keep it buzzed short. Although he knew his hairline was receding and a few gray hairs had crept in among the dark, this was nicely downplayed by his short style.

But the hair he brushed this morning was gleaming black without a trace of gray. It also appeared that his hairline was back where it had been in his youth. His hair seemed thicker than it ever had been before. It was silky soft and full bodied. Huh, he thought, whatever it is they gave me, it’s going to put Rogaine out of business.

“Look, Bridget, I won’t take no for an answer,” Dina said into the phone. Her tone was familiar and friendly. “You and Aislinn *have* to convince him. If it’s the cost that’s bothering him, tell him it’s all my treat. I’m only too happy to pay for it all.”

She listened for a moment then continued, “No, no, he doesn’t have a clue! That’s what’s so perfect. His birthday’s in a couple months and this will be the best gift ever.”

The person at the other end said something and Dina laughed. “Oh you should see him now! He’s absolutely precious. And he’s so happy! Lord, I wish I’d known a long time ago. But it’s all good. We’re going to make it right.”

Colin padded in, still glowing from the shower. He was dressed in a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. “Morning, Dee.”

“Whups! Gotta go, Sweetie, he’s here,” Dina said in a low voice, then more clearly, “Talk to you soon. Bye!”

Colin looked at her dubiously and asked, “Who was that?”

“Oh... just a friend.” She shrugged, set her phone down and rose to her feet. She was already dressed for work.

“Dee? What’s going on?”

She click-clacked across the hardwood floor and looked down at him. One of the many things he liked about Dee was her height. He was 6’1” and she was 5’10” so when she wore heels he could scrunch down a bit and pretend he was being kissed by someone taller than himself. It gave him a tiny thrill to feel smaller. She leaned down and brushed his lips, then pressed in a bit more forcefully, cradling his head and holding him close at the small of his back. Then she leaned him back and kissed him.

Deeply.

Aggressively.

Passionately.

Colin hadn’t been so turned on since that time twenty years ago when Butch fondled him. His heart raced, his breath came raggedly and he felt soooooooo ready to rock ‘n roll.

Dee straightened up and released him. His lips tingled, and he felt confused and abandoned. Empty. He looked at her with wonder.

She snickered, not unkindly, and said, “How’s it feel to get revved up and left idling?”

“Huh?” he shook his head, looking more confused. “What do you mean, Dee?”

“You’re feeling what every girl feels at some point in her life. All stirred up, ready to give her all, and set adrift to stew in her own juices.”

“Men get that feeling too, Ms Smarty,” Colin replied. “It’s called blue balls.”

“Ah, but that’s different, or so I’ve been told.” She pointed to his crotch which was conspicuously *not* tenting the towel around his waist. “I rest my case.”

Huh.

Dina smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Sorry, Babe, gotta run. See ya this evening.”

He endured the clanks and whirrs coming from the MRI machine. He was getting a six week reading to compare to the benchmark scans.

The changes he’d undergone were becoming more dramatic. His body no longer had the classic masculine ‘V’ shape. He’d lost weight but his butt was bigger and rounder, although his waist was much narrower. He’d even developed a pair of flabby-ish man boobs. Fortunately these were concealed for the most part by his clothing which seemed much baggier than before with the exception of his jeans -- they positively strained at the seams.

He was growing a little concerned with all these changes but he still felt so wonderful. And the hidden part of his personality actually reveled at the thought of growing more curvy. Strangely though, Dee didn’t seem to mind the changes at all. He always thought she loved his manly physique but she seemed almost triumphant whenever she noticed his changes.

The one area that he was a bit discontented with was his sexual desire. Originally he’d been hotter than a firecracker but lately he just didn’t feel interested. His genitals seemed less sensitive also. He really enjoyed spooning with Dee and feeling her touch on his skin but it never aroused him to erection any more. Maybe it was just a temporary side effect -- he hoped so.

Colin stopped at the Redwing store on his way home from work. His shoes had been getting looser on his feet. At first he attributed it to his weight loss and wore thicker sox and tied the laces tighter. But it had gotten to the point where he was wearing three pairs of sox and the eyelets for the laces met each other in the middle. His shoes were pretty well worn anyway so it was time for some new ones.

He got his feet measured and was shocked at what the clerk told him. He was a size 7. A 7! He’d been wearing size 11 since he was 15 years old. How could his feet shrink 4 sizes? There had to be some mistake, but he leaned down and looked at the line where the little metal slider hit his toe and it was a 7.

Feeling dazed he asked to try on his style work boot in a 7. The clerk returned a few minutes later and apologized that they didn’t carry that style in such a small size. But he suggested that he could try a boy’s 6-1/2 in a very similar style. They fit like a glove.

He paid for his new boots and dropped the old ones in the garbage on his way out the door.

“So, Marshal, how’s the progress on test subject 11-11?” Dina asked. The two were seated companionably in her office. They were going through the weekly reviews of the various research projects at the company.

“I swear Dina, if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it,” Marshal said. He hunched forward in his seat, excited by the topic. “His weight is down to 135 and height is now only 5’ 11”. His blood pressure started out prehypertensive but it’s down to 110 over 68 and his resting heart rate is now 80, well within the female norm.”

“It’s amazing how rapidly the effects have manifested. Have you had any luck reverse engineering the formula?”

Arts shook his head. “Unfortunately no. Whatever Bruno and Max have done to modify our various compounds is undetectable with our instrumentation. I’ve tried several times to ask them what it is that they do but they either can’t or won’t explain it. It’s a shame too, because there are quite a lot of beneficial applications we could derive from this.”

“Damn. I keep hoping we’ll make a breakthrough there. But it’s looking more and more like some kind of miracle.”

“Well it’s going to take a miracle to save them if the guys on three catch up with them,” Marshal said with a broad smile.

“Oh no! What’d they do this time?”

“Believe it or not, they super glued everybody’s coffee mugs to the ceiling. How the hell they got up there is anybody’s guess.”

Dina laughed so hard she actually emitted a little snort. “Those scamps! Well at least it’s not as bad as last week when they plastic wrapped all the toilets in the second floor ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, that was a doozy. Shame their science isn’t as easy to see through as their humor.”

“I know. Whatever those two little gentlemen do, it might as well be magic.”

Colin was rebuilding a Detroit DD-16. He fitted the torque wrench to the first head bolt in the sequence. Double checking the specs, he dialed the wrench to 184 lbs-ft. As he’d done so many times in the course of his working life, he grabbed the wrench one handed and pulled. The bolt turned, became tighter, stopped turning. No click from the wrench.

Huh.

He double checked the wrench’s setting. Pulled on the handle again, this time harder. The bolt tightened up a little more then stopped turning.

In the process the cuff of his coveralls unraveled down past the ends of his fingers -- again. With a little huff of irritation he rolled the sleeves up for the third time today. He couldn’t understand why the coveralls seemed so loose around his shoulders. The outer seams that used to fall perfectly at the edge of his shoulders now came several inches down his upper arms which made the sleeves comically long. The only explanation he could think of was the guys must be playing a practical joke on him and had ordered larger uniforms from the supplier.

He put both hands on the handle and tried again. Still no click. Finally he grabbed a length of pipe he kept on hand to use as a cheater and slipped it over the wrench’s handle. Pulling smoothly with both arms, the bolt turned further... then the wrench gave that satisfying *click* and freewheeled a smidge indicating the bolt was tightened to the required torque.

He went on to torque all the remaining head bolts in the proper sequence. He needed the cheater for each one and when he was finished his arms ached like they hadn’t since he was a rookie grease monkey.

A rail thin little man about three feet tall peeked into Colin’s unit. He was strangely dressed all in green in knee breeches, a tail coat and a top hat decorated with shamrocks. He had a neat little beard and puffed like a smokestack on a little corncob pipe. He cleared his throat theatrically and waited for Colin to notice him.

“Excuse me laddie,” he said as he shuffled his archaic shoes with silver buckles in the gravel. “But have you seen a couple of children around?”

Colin had grown inured to all the bizarre happenings around the storage units. His only reaction was a shake of his head. “No, sorry haven’t seen any children,” he replied laconically while thinking he’d seen quite a motley crew of *little* people but none of them were kids.

“Ah, good!” the little man cackled. He smiled insanely and kicked his heels together then leaned out the door and yelled, “Coast is clear, take ‘em away Sean!”

Colin heard a big diesel rev up and he craned his neck to see an 18 wheeler with a famous breakfast cereal logo emblazoned on its side pull away. He raised an eyebrow and looked quizzically at the strange little man.

“Always after me lucky stars, them kids.” The little man winked dramatically. “A bloke’s gotta keep on his toes, y’know.”

It was a gorgeous Saturday morning in late September. Colin’s pickup baseball buddies were all assembled at a local VFW for their weekly game. Most had brought a six pack or two to add to the communal coolers. About half had brought wives or girlfriends who either watched or joined in the game. Dee was a regular, she was known as an awesome base stealer and kept the opposing pitcher on their toes.

Colin bent over to pick up a bat. *RIP!* He instantly straightened, his face glowing bright red. His pants had been getting tighter around the butt lately but this was ridiculous. He surreptitiously glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Much to his chagrin his entire team were pointing and chuckling.

“Hey O’Brien, want another doughnut?”

“Whatcha been feedin’ him Dee?”

“Ol’ Colin’s got hisself a be-donk-a-donk!”

“Shake that booty Sweetie!”

Dee trotted in from second base, she and Colin had been picked by opposing teams. She looked the seat of his jeans over and shook her head.

“Sorry Babe, it’s hopeless.” She grinned and winked at him. “But your boxers are clean.”

“It’s okay,” he said with a wry grin, sucking it up. He yelled out, “Come on guys, let’s play some ball.”

Colin dashed in to the department store and made a beeline for the jeans. He hated shopping and usually treated it like a commando raid -- get in, get out. He’d worn size 30 x 32 501’s since reaching adulthood. He grabbed three pairs of 34 x 32, figuring he couldn’t have grown that much in a few weeks.

The next day he was back at the store. Unbelievably the pants he’d just bought were still too tight in the seat and hips but were gapingly loose at the waist. He was wearing knit running shorts stretched over his ample butt and a baggy tee with flip flops, since they were about the only clothes he owned that still fit him.

“Excuse me?” he asked a very pretty sales clerk whose name tag read Jo, “I need to return these.”

“Sure, I’ll take care of that for you. Is there a problem with them?” She was in her early twenties and gave him a quick appraising once over. She had a saucy self assured attitude that Colin interpreted as flirty. I’ve still got it, he thought smugly. She smiled and steered him over to a customer checkout station where she scanned the bar codes and checked his receipt.

“No, no problem. Except they don’t fit.”

“Guessed the wrong size, did you? What size is he?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I need to try some on.”

“Wait a minute, these were for *you*?”

Colin nodded. “Yeah, but they’re too small in the hips and too big in the waist.”

The girl glanced at the sizes then at Colin’s butt and made a “pfft” sound. “Ya think?” She smiled companionably, taking the sting out of the wisecrack. “Come on, Hon, let’s get you fixed up. Are you married to the 501 style?”

“It’s what I’ve always worn.”

“Uh huh. I’ll grab some 501’s and a couple other styles too that you can try on. Just a sec.”

In moments Jo was back with a stack of 5 or 6 pairs of pants. “Here you go, Sweetie, I got you a couple different sizes in my favorite styles -- they really show off your butt -- plus some 501’s. Try ‘em on and see what you think.”

Colin felt cocky that she wanted to see his butt, and went through a curtain into a changing area she indicated. He suddenly felt nervous as he heard women’s voices coming from a couple of the changing booths. But this was an upscale store and there were actually doors rather than curtains on each of the booths, so maybe unisex was no problem. He shrugged and entered an unoccupied booth.

He looked at the pants. There were two pairs of 501’s in sizes 25 and 26. Was Jo stupid? If the 34’s didn’t fit what made her think these would? Well, he might as well try them on while he was in here... But they actually fit. They were even a bit baggy everywhere except the waist. The 25’s were less baggy but a tad tight at the waist. The fly was all wrong though; it didn’t extend far enough down to permit peeing without pulling his pants down.

The jeans Jo said were her favorites were 524’s in boot cut and straight leg styles. These were in sizes 1 and 3. Huh. He wasn’t an idiot when it came to women’s clothing -- he knew from the sizes and the cut these were girl jeans. So. Jo hadn’t meant these were her favorite style on men, rather they showed off *her* butt and she’d assumed Colin would like them in the same way. The size 1’s were a bit snug but he could zip them. The 3’s were a better fit. They were both skinny styles -- close fitted from his upper thighs to the knee.

He looked at himself in the mirror and liked what he saw. From behind he could have been a girl Jo’s age. She was right; the jeans did show off his butt, and he had a really cute butt! The material was stretchier than he was accustomed to and a bit lighter weight. It felt good. Really good.

Unbelievably Jo had just mistaken him for a fellow woman. That was crazy -- he’d known all his life he was far too masculine to ever pass as female. But his body had been changing. That was obvious.

He turned to face the mirror and looked at himself dispassionately. His face had softened, looking much younger, the square jaw was more of a smooth oval now. There was no trace of beard. His brows were a bit bushy. His shoulders were quite narrow now, which explained the fit of his coveralls -- there was no practical joke, he’d shrunk. With his hair grown out and dressed as he was he’d easily be taken as a young woman in grunge. The changes had progressed so gradually that it took a stranger to really make him take notice.

He stepped out of the fitting room still wearing the straight leg 524’s. Jo came over grinning. She tugged at the waistband and the legs about his mid-calf. She straightened up, seeming satisfied.

“See? I told you they’d look great on you, girl,” she said comradely. “Although you really should wear them with heels to get the best effect.”

Colin was hesitant. “You think?”

“Oh they are *so* you, Hon. Seriously.”

He smiled, enjoying Jo’s taking him for a peer. He made a snap decision and said, “Okay. I’ll take both the 524’s in a 3 and three pairs of the 501’s in 26.”

“Sure, Sweetie, but just so you know, the 524’s stretch a bit after wearing them. You might be happier with size 1’s.”

Colin’s brow wrinkled; he pondered how snug the size 1’s were. But he knew attractive girls preferred the painted on look. And he trusted Jo’s opinion even though they’d just met. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Jo nodded definitively.

Colin grinned, feeling as though he was about to get away with something wicked. “Okay, make that size 1 for the 524’s and... what the hell, I’ll take the 501’s in 25.”

“You *go* girl. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I always say.”

Colin stepped back into the fitting room to change then met Jo at the register, giving her his credit card. She glanced casually at the name as she swiped the card, then handed over the shopping bag. “Here you go, Colleen, have a great day.”

“Thanks Jo,” he said, then hesitated a moment, unsure how far he should press his luck. What the hell, he thought, I’ve made it this far. “You said I really needed heels with these. Which way’s the shoe department?”

To be continued...

Monday morning Colin strutted into work with his head held high. He entered the mechanic’s bay through a side door by the employee’s parking area. For the first time ever he’d left his cap at home. Yesterday at the mall he’d stopped at a salon and got his hair cut in a funky spiky style with soft highlights that framed his face.

He was wearing his new 501 boyfriend jeans and a new tight fitting tee shirt emblazoned with a butterfly that read “Get out of your cocoon and PLAY”. An inch of creamy smooth midriff was revealed above the waistband of his jeans. He wore a sports bra and bikini panties under it all.

Chapter 5

* * * * *

Colin had spent most of the day at the mall. He’d gone from one new discovery to the next. Shoes led to shirts which led to underwear which led to grooming products which led to a new hair style. He couldn’t believe how much fun he’d had. Shopping had never been anything but a chore to him. But he was learning what women found so alluring about it -- trying on different styles and discovering whole new looks.

Now he needed to cache his purchases away from Dee’s prying eyes. He’d originally rented the storage unit to conceal his tg reading habit but he’d been reading less and less of late. Instead he came here to explore the vagaries of the residents.

Each day’s expedition into the labyrinthine assortment of buildings was different. From the road it looked like a tiny cluster of low buildings, but inside the compound was sort of like a nautilus shell -- more chambers and twists and turns than it would appear from the outside. Some days it seemed like there were only 9 or 10 different buildings but at other times he’d swear there were dozens and dozens.

Once Colin had tried to look up the location on Google Maps so he could count the number of buildings on the satellite image. But inexplicably all he saw was a Seven Eleven and a little strip mall that bracketed the compound to east and west. There was a small copse of trees in between but the scale of the map showed it was only 100 feet wide, far too small to contain the storage facility. There was no sign of the road that circled the facility. It was like looking at an Escher print; if he started at one edge at a place he clearly recognized and panned his view through where he *knew* the facility was he reached the opposite edge at another recognizable landmark without comprehending what was in between.

He’d long since given up on understanding the unique installation and just accepted its mystique. The normal rules of physics and common sense were bent once you passed through the entrance. He had a while before Dee would be home from her parents so now, since he’d already stashed the worst of the evidence in his unit, he allowed himself time for a stroll through the compound to look for whatever interesting may be going on.

Colin stared in awe down the row of storage units at the scene before him. He'd seen some unusual things here but this absolutely was the topper. A gorgeous white stallion with a gleaming mother of pearl spiral horn jutting from his forehead stood on his hind legs with his two forelegs poised as if rearing up. But the unicorn was posed in this position, not moving at all, suspended half erect against the force of gravity.

Standing behind him was a canvas backdrop with a stormy sky and mountains in the near distance making it appear the creature was rearing up atop some craggy peak. A little misshapen man stood to one side with an easel and paints arranged before him. He was about four and a half feet tall, hunchbacked, with a long pointed beak of a nose, and a bald pate with a few wisps of gray hair around his pointed ears -- the classic notion of a wizened gnome.

"Hold still, will you." the gnome groused. "I'm trying to get the detail right."

The unicorn whinnied and cast a baleful eye at the strange artist, his thoughts easy to interpret.

Colin just couldn't resist and ambled over for a better look. Up close he could see over the gnome's shoulder that he was working on an original of one of those ubiquitous black velvet paintings that seemed to grace the walls of ninety percent of young girls' bedrooms at some point in their lives. He did the unicorn's majesty justice, embellishing the image with just the right amount of silvery glitter in his mane, tail and horn.

"What do you think?" the painter asked. "More clouds? How about lightning?"

Colin shook his head. "Nah, I wouldn't overdo it. Too much would lose the dramatic sense of impending action."

“Aye youngster, ye’ve a good eye. ‘Tis difficult enough tryin’ to keep it fresh with such limited variation in subject matter.” He cocked an eye at Colin appraisingly. “Speakin’ o’ variation, how’d ye like to pose with Frederick there? We’d make it worth your while.”

“What?! Me? In one of those unicorn posters? I thought the only humans who could approach a unicorn were virgin girls? I mean I couldn’t... thanks, but no.”

“Aye, ye’ve a wise head. P’rhaps ‘tis a bit early yet. Come see us in a few weeks, then. Like I said, ye’ll no’ regret it.”

Colin stared at him dumbstruck a moment then muttered his thanks and walked off. What could the little fellow possibly mean when he insinuated Colin’d be a more appropriate subject for the painting in a few weeks? He pondered that as he sashayed over toward his own unit in his new high heeled sandals, his ass naturally swaying from side to side in his new skin tight jeans.

* * * *

Monday morning Colin strutted into work with his head held high. He entered the mechanic’s bay through a side door by the employee’s parking area. For the first time ever he’d left his cap at home. Yesterday at the mall he’d stopped at a salon and got his hair cut in a funky spiky style with soft highlights that framed his face.

He was wearing his new 501 boyfriend jeans and a new tight fitting tee shirt emblazoned with a butterfly that read “Get out of your cocoon and PLAY”. An inch of creamy smooth midriff was revealed above the waistband of his jeans. He wore a sports bra and bikini panties under it all.

Some of the guys turned their heads, tracking his progress like radar dishes. He made his way toward the break room where everybody’s lockers were. As his hand touched the door knob Jake cleared his throat loudly.

“Excuse me, Miss, can I help you?”

Colin turned to his longtime friend and smiled. “That’s okay, I got it.”

“Are you looking for somebody?”

“Nope.”

“Um... this area’s for employees only.”

“Yep. I know.”

“If you need to make an appointment or something you should go up front.”

“Jake you asshole, don’t you know me?”

“Look lady, I’m married. I don’t know who told you my name or what you’re tryin’ to pull but I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Colin sighed. On the one hand it was gratifying that Jake didn’t recognize him, but on the other hand it was a pain to have to prove his identity. “Jake, it’s me -- Colin.”

“Colin?” Jake squinted his eyes and leaned in for a better look.

“Yep. If you don’t believe me I’ll have to tell the guys how you passed out with your arms around my toilet the other day...”

“Shit!” Jake recoiled, as if afraid he might catch something if he were too close to Colin. “It *is* you! Damn! Is this some kind of a joke?”

Colin felt his spine stiffen. He’d known Jake for years; had been the best man at his wedding. Was this about to turn into a repeat of his sisters’ betrayal?

“Hey guys!” Jake called out before Colin could react. “C’mere and get a look at ol’ O’Brien over here. Ain’t he purty? Maybe he’ll give us a kiss?”

“It’s no joke, Jake,” Colin said softly. “I’m still me. I’ve always been this way on the inside.”

Jake cast him a sharp look then his brow furrowed in thought. The rest of the guys gathered around and started taunting him.

“Whoo whee! You’re ‘bout the cutest thing I ever seen in here.”

“Damn, O’Brien I never figgered you for a tranny fairy.”

“I wonder if it’s still got a dick?”

“I wonder if it ever had one!”

“Hey Colin, d’you wanna suck my cock?”

“I bet she does! I’m next Colin.”

“Me first,” somebody growled and reached out to grab him.

“Hey!” Jake yelled. He shoved the guy away from Colin. But Bill Jones, another mechanic, took his forearm in an iron grip with one hand, cupped his ass with the other and squeezed.

“Bastard!” Colin drew on his self-defense training and twisted sideways; he reached across his body with his free hand and seized Bill’s arm at a pressure point in the elbow. He squeezed brutally and used a practiced move to bring him to his knees. With a quick thrust and twist he sent him sprawling on his butt and wheeled around to face the rest.

“Who’s next?” he snarled half crouched, hands at the ready, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been hiding who I am from shit-heads like you my whole life. Afraid of what you’d think of me. Well, fuck that!”

He didn’t know if he’d ever have come to this point in life if he hadn’t changed so much. But the way he looked now was his dream come true. Not only did he pass as a woman, he’d have a difficult time passing as a man. Hell, that wasn’t right -- he didn’t *pass* as a woman, he *was* a woman. Where it counted: on the inside, and had been her entire life regardless of what her body looked like. The physical changes didn’t matter really, they just made it possible for other people to see who she’d been all along.

“You ass-wipes can joke all you want but if anybody else lays a hand on me he’ll be on his ass just like Bill. Now get out of my way, I need to punch in and get to work.”

The other mechanics muttered amongst themselves but slowly went off to their various tasks. Colpn was breathing hard. She’d been expecting something like this for a reception. She’d brazened herself through it but knew she couldn’t stand up to a determined group effort to get rid of her.

“Colin...” Jake approached, shamefaced. “Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such an ass. You... um... you took me by surprise. Which I hope you admit is understandable...” Jake trailed off, looking into Colin’s eyes for signs of forgiveness.

Colin smiled. “Nah, if you’d pulled that on me I would’ve pissed myself.”

Jake grinned back. “I almost did. So, Colin... or is it Colleen? What do you want me to call you now?”

Colin didn’t have to give it a thought -- she’d always known her real name in her dreams. “I’m going to go by Colleen. But we’ve known each other so long that if you slip and say Colin it won’t bother me a bit.”

“Okay Colleen it is. So, Colleen, are we still on for poker at my place Wednesday?”

* * * *

“You wanted to see me, John?” Colleen asked as she stepped into Big John’s tiny closet of an office. The shop foreman’s desk was stacked with work orders, time cards, tool catalogs, and various engine parts, and other detritus from a busy engine repair operation.

“Shut the door, O’Brien.”

She did so and settled herself in the single visitor chair in the small room.

“Why the hell didn’t you give me a heads up before showing up here like... like that?” He gestured vaguely at Colleen, taking in her hair, clothes, everything. “You’ve worked here... what? 15 years? Have I ever treated you unfairly?”

Colleen shook her head. “No, of course not John. You’ve always been tough, but fair.”

“Then what the hell made you think I wouldn’t deal with this fairly? D’you have any idea how much trouble the company could get in with EEOC? D’you have any idea how much trouble *I* could get in with Harrison?” John asked, referring to the company’s owner.

Colleen felt guilty. She dropped her gaze and muttered, “I don’t know, John. I guess I didn’t think it through. I... what? came out? sort of spur of the moment actually. I didn’t think I might cause you trouble.”

“Well, it’s not important now. Now what’s important is where we go from here. I’ve let it be known that no harassment will be tolerated. There’ll be an official company memo out detailing this. If anyone steps over the line I want to hear about it. Can’t do anything about a problem if I don’t know about it. And you’re going to have to start using the customer’s ladies’ room out front.”

“Thanks.”

“Now don’t go thinking that you’re under some special protection here. We will comply with the law and provide you with the opportunity to continue your employment. But...” here John paused and glared at her with a baleful look. “You need to hold up your end. If your productivity or quality falls off I’ll treat you just as I would anyone else. Believe it.”

“Understood.” Colleen said.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

* * * *

The remainder of the afternoon Colleen considered her situation. She was a competent diesel mechanic but the main reason for doing this job no longer existed. She didn’t need to hide behind a macho job any longer. Did she *like* her job or did she like how it made her *appear* to the rest of the world?

But what else could she do to earn a living? Even more importantly, what did she *want* to do? She loved fashion and had a good eye, but was that sufficient to find a job? She didn’t think so. She had no education to speak of, she had no contacts in the fashion industry, she had no savings.

Did she want to go into business for herself? Perhaps open a little boutique? With the economy in the toilet could she earn enough to support herself? Where would she open the store? She’d need a fairly upscale location to attract the clientele with cash to spare. Which, of course, would drive her costs up...

Huh.

Maybe she should hold on to her job for the time being.

* * * *

Colleen pulled into the storage facility and stopped next to the office. Her rent was due and she got out of the truck to drop off a dozen dimes.

Ells was lounging around the office and Colleen waved. “Hey Ells, how’s it hangin’ dude?”

Ells winked mischievously. “Sure and it’s the O’Brien herself. And looking quite lovely too. I swear if I was two hundred years younger I’d be makin’ a fool o’ me’self tryin’ to win your favor.”

She giggled -- actually *giggled*! “And you’re a silver tongued devil of a Fey Lothario if I ever saw one.”

“‘Tis the Blarney in me, lass, I canna’ help it.” He chuckled and bowed slightly at the waist. “I’m right happy to see ye’ve accepted your inner nature. Good for you, lassie. So what is it ye’ll be callin’ yerself now?”

“Colleen. It’s enough like my given name to be an easy change. It’s also the name I always secretly thought of as ‘me’ in my fantasies.”

“A good Irish name. Pleased I am to meet ye’, Colleen.”

She dimpled and sketched a curtsey, ruining the effect by stumbling while executing the unfamiliar move. She laughed uproariously at her own clumsiness and replied, “Pleased to meet you too, Ells.”

The roar of a big rig filled the air and Ells took Colleen by the elbow, steering her off to the side. A tractor trailer swung around the corner of the building with a famous bald-headed advertising icon on the side. “Mr. Shine’s Magic Eraser” was painted in four foot high letters along the side of the trailer.

Colleen grinned and asked, “Is there nothing your kin don’t have their fingers into?”

“We *do* like to keep occupied. But there are some things we don’t meddle in. We’re not so adept with your computing machines, for example. Spreadsheets and the like aren’t our strong suit.” He smiled widely. “But those of us with a bent toward spinning a yarn have fared pretty well with fantasy games.”

“I bet you do! It’s a wonder more humans don’t believe -- the signs are everywhere.”

“Ah, Colleen, Mums don’t tell the old tales to their wee babes these days. Too much television. Muppets, Barney, Caillou, Yo Gabba Gabba -- whatever *that* is -- and many others are what children’s heads are filled with these days.”

“My Mum told me the ancient stories. I still remember them all. Rumpelstilkskin, The Three Feathers, The Lazy Spinner, The Shoemaker and the Elves...”

Huh. Maybe there *was* a way to break into the fashion industry.

“Say, Ells? What’s it take to start a business here... like Mr. Shine, for example, using umm... local labor?”

“Well, lass, you’d need an MBA...” Ells started off in a musing tone.

“An MBA?” Colleen felt her hopes, so recently raised, sink again. “Just for a small startup?”

“Aye, if ye’ll be using Fey labor you need to contract through a Magickal Business Agent.”

“Oh! *That* kind of MBA,” she said, hope springing eternal one more time.

“Why, sure. What kind of MBA did ye’ think I meant? One of those daftly earnest young Harvard graduates?”

* * * *

To be continued...

They walked off down the path for a few minutes until they arrived at a little glade with a rushing river cutting through it. The path led to a stone bridge spanning the river.

She took a couple more steps, again making a clattering sound disproportionate to her tentative footfalls. She noticed the three goats had raised their heads at the sound of her progress and were staring at the bridge. Suddenly the situation fell into place in her mind and she knew what was coming...
 

_elf Storage by Janice Dreamer   Copyright © 2012 Janice Dreamer

 
 
Chapter 6

* * * *

Colleen shook her head. Just when she thought she couldn’t be surprised any more Ells had sprung a new one on her.

“So where do I find an MBA?”

“Ah, that’s easy, lass. Follow me,” Ells replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

He set off across the cleared area behind the office and wound his way in between several of the long buildings turning left then right. The buildings weren’t laid out at right angles as a human would have done it, instead they were at all sorts of haphazard angles. Finally at the end of one path between two buildings they arrived at a cluster of spindly trees growing along the fence line that surrounded the facility.

Ells pulled a branch aside and gestured for Colleen to proceed. She hesitated, certain that the only thing beyond the foliage was a chain link fence at the edge of a 7-Eleven parking lot.

“Go on with ye’,” Ells said in a mocking tone. “Isn’t like I’ve all day to be lollygagging about with you.”

“Okay.” She kicked off her heels and stooped to pass under the branch Ells was holding for her. She took two steps then a couple more, looking downward to pick her steps carefully, and was a bit surprised she hadn’t bumped up against the fence yet. Sensing the greenery above her had thinned out, she straightened up and raised her gaze. In front of her was a hard beaten dirt path that led off into old growth forest.

She turned to look back where she’d come from and saw more ancient forest as far as she could see. A rustle among the overhanging branches and Ells appeared, stepping around the trunk of an old oak that must have been at least ten feet around. No way had that tree been there a second ago.

“Ah, there you are, lassie. Let’s be off, but mind to stay on the path,” he said blandly. He winked and added, “Ye’ don’t want to get lost in these woods.”

They walked off down the path for a few minutes until they arrived at a little glade with a rushing river cutting through it. The path led to a stone bridge spanning the river. It was an impressive structure, an eight foot wide roadbed with low stone side walls supported by arches anchored in stone footings, two of which sat in the middle of the river, parting the current with a pleasant burbling sound.

Colleen saw three goats grazing contentedly over on the opposite shore. Ells led them up to the bridge and stopped. He bowed and gestured chivalrously for Colleen to go first. She slipped into her shoes and stepped out on the paving stones and heard the clatter of her heels even above the gurgling of the river below. Huh. Something about this was familiar... She directed a questioning glance over her shoulder at Ells.

“Go on, Colleen, I’ll be right behind ye’, lassie,” Ells said with a wide grin. He made little shooing gestures with his hands.

She took a couple more steps, again making a clattering sound disproportionate to her tentative footfalls. She noticed the three goats had raised their heads at the sound of her progress and were staring at the bridge. Suddenly the situation fell into place in her mind and she knew what was coming. Colleen decided to trust Ells’ motives were merely puckish, not outright malevolent. She squared her shoulders and walked boldly up the gentle stone paved slope to the middle of the bridge.

As she reached the center of the span a guttural roar filled the air and a great burly form leaped out from under the bridge and landed squarely in her path. It was perhaps 7 feet tall but looked even bigger, topped with a huge cone of flame red hair standing straight up that added fully 3 feet to its apparent height. Colleen screamed and jumped backwards in spite of the fact she was expecting something like this.

“Who dares cross my bridge? I shall eat you up for my supper!” the enormous apparition boomed at her, baring its sharply pointed teeth. It raised its long arms and reached claw tipped hands for her. One of the huge paws could easily encircle her entire body.

“Okay Sid, ye’ve had yer fun. Now leave off. ‘Tis new trade I be bringin’ yer way,” Ells said from just to her right side.

The troll’s hair wilted, falling down his back in a smooth cascade. His feral snarl relaxed into an avaricious smile. “What kind of trade, Ells?”

“This sweet lass here,” Ells said with his hand companionably on Colleen’s upper arm. “Colleen O’Brien, meet Sid, Agent to the stars.”

“Well, well. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Buhbuhlah. But sadly it’s agent to the star - singular. Ursa Minor didn’t sign with me, she’s such a bear if she thinks her Polaris isn’t getting enough credit. And Sirius dropped me after that shmendrik Morty threw him a bone and got the poor dim bulb upgraded to the brightest star in the sky.”

He shook his head ruefully and muttered, “That Morty, what a schmuck. Any agent who steals another agent’s clients are despicable, I say.” He paused a moment in self righteous outrage then rubbed his hands together in unabashed glee. “Just wait till he finds out I’m signing the farmer, the fox and the geese right out from under him - that’ll teach the mamzer!”

“So anyway, that just leaves me with one single star, Twinkle, and she’s such a little thing you almost wonder what she is. But enough about that. Let’s step into my office.”

He gestured to the side of the bridge then executed a one handed vault over the low stone wall and swung down under the bridge, landing on the footing rooted in midstream. He smacked the inner face of the arch and an opening appeared with steps leading down which Sid disappeared into.

Colleen and Ells followed, although not as athletically. Ells had to lower her over the side until she was ready to drop onto the foundation below. He leaped lightly down after her and they descended the stairs together. It was a dank passage with water dripping from the ceiling, spider webs hanging in the corners and moss growing on the walls.

Colleen recognized a mezuzah fixed to the doorpost at the bottom of the stairs. Huh. Once inside the troll’s lair she saw it was a comfortable apartment furnished with a retro 1950’s “I Love Lucy” vibe. There was a beige couch sporting white coverlets adorned with needlepoint flowers draped over each of the three seat cushions. Spindly Early American end tables bookended the couch, their tops protected by lace doilies, held crystal bud vases, each containing a silk rose, and crystal lamps with chintz shades. An overstuffed red and brown plaid chair sat to one side of the couch and a brown leather wingback chair on the opposite. A burgundy, blue and green rag rug sat under a coffee table which was a match for the end tables down to its own doily and a larger crystal vase with a dozen silk roses. Lace doilies draped over the arms and at each headrest of the chairs and couch. The room’s centerpiece was a large brick fireplace opposite the couch with a menorah prominently displayed on the mantel.

“Nice digs,” Ells called out. Colleen wasn’t sure it was wise to bait a monstrous troll in his own den.

Sid’s voice answered from down the hall. “It’s Ma’s place, you know perfectly well. I’m four hundred twenty seven next February and she won’t let me move out until I find a nice girl who knows how to make a knish and’s a suitable baleboste by her standards. But then if I did settle down she’d be nagging me to give her grandchildren.” He sighed dramatically. “What’s a loyal son to do?”

“Where is the estimable Momma Gertrude anyway? We should pay our respects.”

“She and her MahJong pals took a bus trip to the Indian reservation. She’ll be gone for days; she just loves the nickel slots. Which is why the place is such a mess.” A note of panic crept into his voice and he continued in a rush, “I forgot to ask you to take off your shoes, wouldju mind? I’m going to be in enough trouble when she gets back as it is.”

Colleen kicked her shoes off while trying to imagine a mother so fierce that she’d make Sid the walking horror show cringe in fear at her wrath.

As he spoke, Sid returned to the living room. He had somehow shrunk down from his fearsome 7 foot height to just under 4 feet tall. His formerly concave midsection had swollen to a little round potbelly and his ferocious mouth was now fixed in a friendly toothless smile below a broad upturned nose. In this form Sid was the live model for the troll dolls that were a toy fad in the 60’s and had resurged at various times over the ensuing years. It hit Colleen all at once -- of course! -- and she had to stifle a giggle.

“Ahhh. Feels good to get outa my workin’ outfit.” Sid scratched his belly and gestured to the couch. “Ells, you’re a mensch to bring me a new client. Siddown, siddown. Wouldju like something to drink, maybe a nosh?” He said effusively. “And you, my dear shayner maidel, may I bring you a cup of tea? Some cake? A cookie perhaps?”

They both declined and took seats on the couch. Sid went to the leather wingback and bounded up into the seat. His legs dangled over the edge nearly a foot from the floor.

“So, nu? You mentioned something about needing my services. How may I help you, dear girl?”

Colleen cleared her throat nervously. She hadn’t actually formulated a plan at this stage; she’d only meant to ask Ells in theory how to set up a Faerie based business and he’d just run with it.

“Well... I... um... See, I’m thinking of starting a business. But I’m not sure where to begin. I’ve always been interested in clothes and fashion but until recently I’ve never been at liberty to pursue it. So I was thinking of perhaps opening a little boutique but I don’t have enough seed money to stock it with merchandise. That’s where the Fey come in...”

“Ah! Say no more, I see where you’re headed, my dear,” Sid interrupted gently. He settled into deep thought, muttering to himself about Pixies, Sprites, Elves, and other mythical creatures, along with references to tailoring, cutting, buttons, hems, zippers and the like. His murmurs grew more and more agitated until finally he smacked his palm down on the arm of his chair and exclaimed, “Oy! Brownies. It’s gotta be Brownies; no way around it.”

“Is that a problem?” Colleen leaned forward, concerned her unformed idea was already getting shot down.

“Eh?” Sid broke out of his reverie and glanced over at the disappointment writ large on her face. “No, no problem, dear child. At least not for you. But those persistent little things will be inundating me come January with their big button eyes and their schmaltzy little spiels to make one more cookie sale.”

“What’re you complaining about, you great big fraud? I’d say you’ve bought a cookie or two in your time.”

“it’s true.” Sid paused to pat his protuberant belly and sighed. “I just can’t resist those thin mints. And the Do-si-dos haunt my dreams.” He sighed again. “But I’ve always said the client’s happiness is my mission so I’ll just have to take one for the team.”

“Like that’s a sacrifice,” Ells snickered.

“So, anyway,” Colleen interjected, hoping to get the discussion back on the rails. “Does that sound like something that’s do-able?”

“For you, Buhbuhlah, anything is do-able.”

* * * *

“Well Marshal our favorite test subject’s finally bowed to the inevitable.”

Dina and Marshal were sitting cozily on the couch in her office. She had her feet in his lap and he was absentmindedly giving her a foot massage. Their relationship had evolved in unexpected ways as they worked more closely together on their secret project.

“And how is that working out?”

“You really should see her! She’s just so precious! She’s changed her name to Colleen and wears the sexiest things. It’s like she’s a teenager who’s just been visited by the booby fairy and wanting to show them off.”

“I can hardly wait. I’ve read the reports of course, but the raw data doesn’t do her justice, I’m sure. I’ll make a point to be there in person when she comes in for her next appointment. So you say she’s self-identifying as completely female? I’ll be interested to see how far that plays out.”

“Have you heard the latest from our two practical jokers?” Dina changed the subject.

“No, not since they sent the email from the President’s account giving everyone a long weekend just before the big FDA walkthrough.”

“Well don’t mention ex-Lax up on the 5th floor if you value your life,” Dina said.

“Oh no! They didn’t... did they?”

Dina simply nodded.

“Those two sure have a warped sense of humor. But their playfulness if worth it as long as they keep doing their magic.”

“Speaking of play...” Dina began in a leading tone.

“And magic...” Dr Arts stopped his foot massage to lean over and kiss his boss on her inner thigh.

* * * *

To be continued...