Beautiful

By Melanie Ezell

It wasn’t hard to convince them. All I had to do was tell them what they wanted, and with the right books I had it all. And I was going to be beautiful.

It all started with the liposuction. Just to help me lose weight. I’d always been a bit tubby, and I figured why not. I didn’t know I’d love it so much.

The change was dramatic. No longer was I the overweight, unpopular geek of a man I had been, but a sleek young stallion. Now I could be happy, have friends, be loved. I felt beautiful.

But it wasn’t enough. I was left with baggy, flabby skin where the weight had been. I wanted it gone. And I was beautiful again.

But I was so hairy. My chest. My back. I wanted it gone too. And, yet again, I felt beautiful.

Next came my facial hair, long a bane of my life. With it gone, surely I’d be beautiful forever.

With a little work on my nose.

And a little botox couldn’t hurt either.

And my cheeks, so plain.

And my brow line, far too thick. Neanderthalean, really, if such a word exists.

New teeth. New lips. New ass. New skin. New breasts. And now, new sex.

It wasn’t hard to convince them. All I had to do was tell them what they wanted, and with the right books I had it all. All the knowledge to make them make me beautiful. And what I couldn’t get with lying I took, or got in any way possible. Sex, drugs, threats, violence. Violence can be beautiful too. And soon I’d be more beautiful than ever.

So beautiful.

So beautiful.

So beautiful.

Notes: My first attempt at 'dark' fiction. Comments appreciated. Melanie E.

"I don't know about this..."

"Oh stop that, this will be fun, I promise."

Harold cast his girlfriend a sideways glance. "That's what you said about having your birthday party-"

"-party at Kevin's World of Waffles, I know, but this is different, and there's no strawberry syrup in sight." She gave him her patent mischievous grin.

"No... just dresses." Giving a meaningful look to the flowery concoction surrounding him, Harold sighed.

"You agreed to try out with me," Molly whined.

Harold snorted, but and pushed through the door, ready to try out for the Dancing Bunnies.

"Jeez Louize!" Tod struck the wheel of his Volvo angrily as yet another red light brought the car to a screeching halt.

"Easy, honey, we have plenty of time."

"Dammit, Janet!" Tod argued. "How did I let you talk me into this?"

"Well, the 'Rocky Horror Picture Show' costumes were your idea..."

Her speech was cut short by the jerk as Tod gunned the engine - only to hear the wail of a police siren.

"Shit! Janet, where's my licence?"

"In the purse I handed you at the door, didn't you-

"Dammit Janet!"

"Gordon!"

"That you Gordon?"

"Hey Gordon!"

Melissa growled as she rushed down the hallway towards the school's rear- and mostly unused- exit.

Why had she agreed to do this again? 'Great prank,' he said. 'Lots of fun,' he said. 'Twenty bucks,' he said. Oh, the joys of having a twin.

She pushed her way through the doors to find her brother there waiting in her favorite skirt and blouse, with a green look on his face.

"Uh, sis, did you know you cheerleaders had physicals today?" He asked nervously...

She always enjoyed checking him out, seeing what new items he might have. Pickles, mayo, lipstick. Ham, a couple of movies, and a cute bra and panty set.

"For my girlfriend," he would say if she asked, but in a town as small as theirs she knew better.

"That'll be fifty four seventy three." He paid her swiftly, and hurried to grab his bags.

"You take care now, Emily."

She waved to him and smiled. "See you on Sunday, Pastor Lawrence." 'And have fun,' she added silently as the old man drove away slowly.

Drabble Theatre: Hot Coffee

Melanie Ezell

Barbara descended the stairs to find her husband waiting for her at the breakast table. The coffee was ready, making her smile.

"Barb, honey, we need to talk."

"About what?" She carefully stirred the sugar in as she turned, listening.

"There's something I need to tell you- I've been hiding for a long time. I can't hide it any more. Barb, some times I..." He stopped.

"Is this about the women's clothes you have hidden in the closet?"

He stared, dumbfounded. "Y-you already know?"

She nodded.

"And- you don't care?"

She shrugged. "Not really. Besides, you make damn good coffee."

It just had to happen today, didn't it? My luck always goes south on Tuesdays.

I can't believe I forgot to do laundry yesterday. I really needed my suit for this interview, but that ketchup stain ain't coming out of those pants any time soon.

Maybe they won't notice this is my girlfriend's suit. The color is neutral, cut's alright...

"They're ready to see you, Miss Andrews."

Shit! Miss?

Okay, maybe the matching pumps were a step too far...

I click my way across the floor to the office.

Damn Tuesdays

Drabble Theatre: Inna Minute

Melanie E.

Crap! Crap, crap, crap!

"Jeremy! We're home!"

"I'll be down in just a moment mom!"

Dangit, I thought they were gonna be gone longer than this! Here I am, standing in the middle of the hallway in a skirt and blouse, and I've just gone completely rigid! I can't move! It's all over! I'm-

"Jeremy?" Sarah popped her head up the stairs, and grinned when she saw me. Oh, no, she's gonna tell Mom that I'm.... "I'll handle Mom, just hurry up, okay?"

I nodded -- what else could I do?

She was grinning when I reached the table. What now?

Edwin wiped the countertop down quickly, not so much removing the grease as bringing it to a more even shine.

He had been working at the Mondo Burger for a couple of years, barely making enough to stay in college, and yet...

"Order up!"

He grabbed the tray and took it out to one of his many corpulent customers, his ponytail bouncing on behind him.

The large man grinned at him. "Thank you, my girl! Time to dig in!"

The old gentleman laughed, and Edwin smiled back. Yes, sometimes it was all worth it.

Drabble Theatre: No-Jack

Melanie Ezell

"Ooh, now THIS is cherry." 'THIS being a brand new 2044 Pontiac Amazon, featuring integrated LCD vidscreens, a Chameleontech paint job, and all the latest security features. But he had to have it.

Cut out the shatterproof glass...

Pop the mag-lock...

"Warning. Unauthorized user. No-Jack security activated. Conversion of male intruder in 3...2...1..."

"What the Fu--"
---
"In the latest news, car thefts are down 38%, while shoe sales this quarter have doubled..."

He... she?... wrapped her hands around the arm of her date as he lead her down the path through the park. Her sister had split off earlier for a little 'alone time' with her date, leaving the two of them to occupy themselves until time to go home. It was a gorgeous, cool autumn evening, and the falling leaves were entrancing to watch.

"So, ah, what you want to do?"

As she twined herself more tightly around him, loving the feeling of being a girl, she raised herself on her toes to plant her lips on his.

Drabble Theatre: Not Your Pants

Melanie E.

"Hey lil' bro, have you seen my new Cosmo- hey, aren't those mine?"

"What?"

"Those jeans! Why are you wearing my jeans?"

"All of mine are in the wash and it's just jeans-"

"And my Oasis tee-"

"Well, yeah-"

"And your bra strap's are showing-"

"It's a cami not a- oh, crap."

"All your tanks in the wash too?"

"Uh, heheh.."

"No, this works, see my boyfriend's friend needs a date to the party tonight..."

I had hoped for so long it wouldn't end like this.

I'd tried hiding it, denying who I was, and making myself fit in, but in the end his words proved right.

'Freak! Pervert! No little cock sucker is a son of mine.'

The words had hurt worse than the beating, but the real pain had come from seeing the look of cold- nothing, in my mom's eyes as he did it.

I looked down at my blood stained dress, and laughed- at least my mutilation meant I'd die a girl.

I stepped off the edge, smiling as I fell.

Rodney was not a happy Christmas elf.

The North Pole economy had taken a drastic plunge in the last quarter of the 2008 fiscal year, and as a result many hard working elves had lost their jobs. Those left were having to double up on work, and sometimes assignments could be less than ideal.

"Could you hold your beard outta the way? I can't see to tack the lace on the hem of the skirt."

Rodney huffed as he moved his beard. Somehow, he doubted he would ever see Bratz dolls the same way again.

Melanie E.

Ralph was angry. Very angry.

His life had been going so well. A good job, a beautiful girlfriend, and a promotion to lead researcher at Scumlabs. Now, thanks to a problem with an experimental fertilizer here he was, a three story wolf, hunted by the military and labs alike, and to top it all off, he had one HELL of a case of PMS. The confusing feelings about George were just icing on the cake, really.

Smashing through another building, s/he howled in frustration at the unfairness of it all.

Melanie E.

"Mom, mom!"

"In the kitchen honey."

"Mom! You will never guess what I found!"

"You are right about that. Well?"

"Sara has a boyfriend! And he's older than her too!"

"You worm! What are you- you were reading my diary again weren't you?"

"What? NO! I just, I mean..."

"Oh, look, he's blushing! Wait. I keep that in my... you were in my underwear!"

It escaped before he could stop himself. "I still am."

"What! Mom! You perv!"

"Jeremy Andrew-"

"He's nineteen!"

"Sara Marie-"

"Mom!"

Melanie E.

"Pencils down."

It was over. The most gruelling two hour test ever, to be sure. And a definite failure, but what did they expect? And with the rule in place that all questions must be answered in order 'to aid in the determination of your absolute potential' or some crap like that, and 'only mark one answer per question. If more than one applies, choose the answer that fits you best.'

So, why start with something as hard as 'Are you male or female?'

Romeo Cassanova was really starting to regret ever finding that golden ticket. After that incident thirty years ago no one had so much as heard from the Wonka company, but with the reopening came the contest...

Mary white dissappeared down the cream sluice, Ollie Line vanished during the tour of the new sweet-E internet HQ, and he'd last seen the other two in the room with all the fizzy lifting drinks.

The man in the purple suit turned to him. " And lastly, our new line of edible underwear."

'Oh, no.'

"Dude, we HAVE to get back there and see Zodiac!"

"Noone gets backstage without a pass." The security guard pushed the two overweight men back.

"Cummon, we'll do anything!"

"Anything?" An oddly tattooed man asked from behind them.

"Umm... uh, yeah, anything." They both nodded, nervous.

"Alright then." He cracked his knuckles, and clothes appeared in his hands. "Put on these skirts."

---

Ten minutes later two buxom young blondes giggled their way past security on their way to see their idol.

Melanie

"Congratulations! It's a beautiful ba...by... uh, heh, nurse?"

"Oh for heaven's sakes, can't you tell it's a... well..."

"It doesn't matter," the newborn's father interrupted. "We have a son and a daughter already. I guess now we have one more of both."

The doctor smiled in relief at being let off the hook, but couldn't help wondering, what color blanket to use?

White Satin

By Melanie Ezell

She was finally ready.

It had taken more than thirty years to correct God's little mix-up, but it was worth it. She still wasn't perfect, the severe cut of her dress working to hide the few traces of masculinity she'd never be rid of, but if he loved her as is, she could live with a few flaws.

As her march started, she donned her veil, and stepped out the door.

He peered down the tunnel, saw it was all clear, and slipped into his secret room -- hidden behind the baskets of laundry. Pulled his cap off, set his hair into big fluffy pigtails, then slipped into a red sweater.

"Goodbye," to Boober, and, "Hello," to Tarra!

What do you wear that would embarrass you to be found wearing?

Slipping his foot inside, very nearly purring at the fit halfway up the calf of his leg. Shoes like these... hell, call a spade a spade... BOOTS like these made him feel downright powerful. Sexy. Attractive.

Suddenly Mom stuck in her head, "Dear, Bill is here to -- why are you dressed like a lumberjack? Susan, can't you wear a skirt just once?"

100 Smurfs... hundreds of years for a lifespan... what if someone goes on a several year vacation?

"But Papa Smurf...!" Brainy whined.

"Hush, Brainy!" chuckled Papa, "It's your turn for the next year. Cheer up! Now that Handy's turn is over, he can build that deluxe heart-shaped mushroom for Smurfette, now. You, you lucky girl, get to be the first Smurfette to live in it. And besides, you lost the drawing this year fair and square."

Sometimes, a Cliché is just a Cliché...
 

 
Terri looked in the mirror and saw so much wrong.

As Megan ran off to play, Terri turned to the organizer, "Sorry to invade your 'boys only' club here, Steven, but I'm her only parent, and I am as much her father as her mother."

Letters and Titles and Spares, Oh my!

"GhostBusters?"

"The French accent on the phone... Tranny Chaser Decoy for LGBT..."

Oooh. I'm an author-type now. Like I said, I like Drabbles. This one's, well, kinda silly and came to me while watching DVDs with my nephew. Enjoy! (Please?)
 

 
"I just can't help myself, Doc! I mean, I know there's nuthin' really wrong about it, these days, but I come from the old school, y'know?"

Sighing, the doctor said, "Tell me more about Elmer, Mister Bunny..."

In the same vein of fan-fictiony Drabble. This one features an icon of the current decade, instead of one from 60 years ago. Enjoy! (Please?)
 

 
"Are you sure this will work, Hermione?" he asked, scratching at the wool skirt.

She let the giggle out and grabbed his chin, "Now hold still while I just pop some lippy on..."

Hi. Not new here, but new at not-lurking. So, my first effort here is a Drabble. I like Drabbles. Enjoy! (Please?)
 

 
Eyes closed, I fought to suppress the giggle at my sister.

I turned and looked at her, "How shallow do you think I am? Do you really think that would bother me?"

They say that everyone in the world has a twin... well... what if that twin had the same name, but a much more exciting and adventurous life? Enjoy! (Please?)
 

 
"Aramina? Aramina West?" called an unfamiliar voice on the crowded platform, causing me to pause and turn.

"But I've never been to Zanzibar..." I said, breathless and confused.

She got so many compliments on her outfit that day, she thought she was teetering from the sheer bliss of it all. She was pretty, or cute, everyone said. She had curves in ALL the right places. Her voice was breathy and sexy, the boys all fell over themselves to open a door or pull out a chair for her!

It's not like anyone who noticed would care he was gone, after all... she was HAWT!

I had no clue. I mean, I know the answers were there for me, but I was lost. I had only one option really left to me. So, I did as I had done so many times in the past... I turned to Jesus for the answer to my question.

"Hey," I whispered to get his attention, "What's the area between the Tigris and Euphrates called again?"

"Does that mean you're not going to tell me?"

"But... we're supposed to be lesbians -- girl power and all that -- how can we do that if we're both boys?"

She glared at me like I'd grown a second head... or neglected to clean my plate at supper. Then she let out one of her way over the top dramatic sighs. Finally, she scoffed, "You want me to write a piece that will tell a transgender story in only one hundred words?"

"Lydia, then... that's a tight order. Just what kind of transgender content exactly are we talking about including here?"

Amos was sick and tired of everyone calling him “Anus” ever since Jimmy Potter started it in third grade!

Tracie had assured him that she had a plan that would get him a new nickname. The week before Homecoming was Spirit Week, and each day had a theme. “Opposite Day” usually just meant jocks dressed as geeks and cheerleaders as goths, but there are other opposites...

A girl wearing a tight sweater under a necklace that spelled “Amy” took her seat in homeroom, smoothing her miniskirt. Her ruby lips formed a perfect O and she blew a big pink bubble.

My muse woke up recently, and this dumb story about a contest jumped into my head.

When Amy told me she'd found a way to win the money that would save our house, I was reluctant. But we were desperate. We maxed out all the credit cards we had left to afford all the procedures, and now looking at my sexy bikini "After" photo, I was hopeful.

I thought I'd give her a hand emailing our submission, so I opened her laptop and clicked around her bookmarks to find the website. When I found it, I shrieked. Amy came running in and I pointed at the screen. "The Man Into Woman Challenge is a Photoshop contest!"

"From the town of Bedrock, they'll have a gay old time!"

The large brunette frantically searched for something to fill her leopard skin bra. “Hey Bonnie, where are the coconuts?”

Her blonde companion handed her a large white package. “I found something better, Frederica. Here.”

She grabbed a small bird from the top of her desk and used it to cut the string. Two large pink blobs were in the box. “What are these?”

“The latest in breast form technology.” Bonnie turned to show off her figure for her friend. Her brown minidress clung to curves Frederica knew she didn’t have, bouncing and jiggling the way they were supposed to. “Jellyfish.”

The plan was brilliant — the three of them would dress up as hot chicks to rob the bank, so no one would have seen their faces. Plus, when they got to the boat, they’d ditch the disguises and no one would ever connect them to the three bimbos.

Unfortunately, Lefty had grown too attached to his “Roxanne” persona and just ducked behind the hydrofoil’s gunwale instead of stripping off his big blonde wig, stiletto heels and huge silicone casabas.

Bruno gave him the bad news. “Chuck that stuff overboard. We’ll never outrun the police boats if we don’t reduce drag.”

A silly story about herbs.

Three TG ladies, each a different ethnicity as is usual in stories like this, went to a tea shop to order their favorite source of phytoestrogens.

The first introduced herself to their waitress and said, “I’m Shannon, as Irish as Lucky Charms and love a tea that reminds me of the green hills covered in shamrocks. Red Clover for me.”

The second one said, “A Nubian princess like me, LaWanda, doesn’t let anyone or anything in her that isn’t black. Black cohosh for me.”

The third one, a spicy Latina, preferred to sing her order. “Dong Quai for me, Argentina.”

A proposal ends in a vocabulary lesson.

I’d forgotten the ring, but I didn’t want to lose the perfect moment, with the way the moonlight danced on the water. I summoned all my courage, looked deeply into her eyes and asked the question I’d been practicing: “My love, I cannot imagine a greater happiness than if you and I were to live out our time on Earth as man and wife. Will you have me?”

She answered my question with a question. “Man and wife, respectively?”

“Certainly,” I said.

“Then, Yes!” she said, and kissed me.

I’ve since learned that “respectively” doesn’t mean the same as “respectfully.”

"Who's that girl at the corner table?" Frankie the Nose asked.

Larry Hodge took a look. "Uh, boss, that's a guy."

Frankie Al Nez withered his henchman with a glance. "I know a dame when I see one. Bring her up to my room at three." He stood up and left the dining room.

Packy Bellafonte, the muscle, looked at Larry, worried. "Uh, that is a guy, isn't it?"

Larry stood up. "Boss says the kid is a dame now, he's a dame now. We'd better go persuade her to get dressed for her date."

Davey pushed long hair out of his face again. He liked to read at corner tables in quiet out-of-the-way restaurants where his noisy roommates couldn't disturb him.

He looked up, aware of someone looming over him. He expected to tell a waiter that, no, he did not need any more coffee.

Two large men stood between him and the room. "Come with us, Miss," said the one with the mustache.

"Miss?" said Davey. "I'm afraid you're making a mistake."

The mustache shook his head. "No. But you will if you don't come along without making a scene."

They took him to a hair salon in the hotel across the street.

"Give her the works," said Larry to Beth, the hairdresser.

"I'm not a ..." Davey began.

"Shaddup," warned Packy, the muscle.

Beth owed Frankie the Nose so she just nodded.

"Don't cut her hair, Boss likes long hair," added Larry. "He likes blondes, too." He shrugged.

"I'm not ..." Davey tried again.

"Shaddup," said Packy.

Beth leaned close to Davey's ear. "You've got nice bones, let's keep them that way," she whispered.

Davey looked at Packy's fists and decided to sit quietly while Beth went to work.

"What would she look good in?" Larry asked.

"She's slim and tall -- a long, straight skirt with a high waist line?" Beth suggested. "And blue looks good on girls with her coloring."

"I'm ..." Davey began but Packy cracked his knuckles and Davey thought better of it.

"I don't suppose you know your dress size?" Larry asked.

"No idea," agreed Davey.

"A Misses 10," the cosmetologist guessed. She applied hot wax to Davey's eyebrows.

"Boss likes 'em slutty," Packy offered.

"A leather dress slutty enough?" Larry asked.

Beth worked her nail tip under the cooled wax. "Pretty slutty," she agreed.

Beth quickly styled Davey's long straight hair into soft curls using only water and a curling iron.

Finished, she went back to working on Davey's face, the foundation now dry enough to cover imperfections, including evidence of a beard. Next she went in with eyeliner, lipliner, eyeshadow, mascara, lip color and gloss.

Davey watched as Beth transformed him from mostly harmless college nerdboy to devastatingly beautiful blonde. The makeup went just a bit over the top.

After glancing at Packy (busy with an issue of Vogue, his lips moving), Davey whispered, "I look like a cheap hooker."

"No," said Beth.

Davey wanted to scratch his nose but with both arms under the cloth -- bib? cape? -- tied around his neck, he couldn't.

"Don't make faces," Beth warned. "Your face might crack."

Larry came back just then with a big, red-headed woman following him. "This is Little Ruby," he said.

Davey looked up at the woman, a little frightened at the intensity she looked back at him with.

"You do good work, honey," Ruby told Beth. She pursed her own lips with fat fingers, thinking. Then she said to Davey, "I'm your new Mommy, sugar, ain't you the lucky b...?"

Ruby and Beth took Davey into the back. "So the mens can't see," the big woman explained.

They had him undress down to his underpants and squeezed him into a corset Ruby had brought with her, tightening the strings until he couldn't even gasp. Finally, she backed it off enough that he could breathe -- a little.

Next she brought out from somewhere two lumps of rosy plastic that looked exactly like breasts to Davey.

"A skinny girl's true friends are her falsies," said Ruby, grinning. Beth giggled.

"But I'm not ..."

"I get through wit' choo, sugar, who's gonna know?"

It's like some fever dream, thought Davey. He stared into the mirror Beth held, staring at the woman staring back -- beautiful, bewildered -- and vulnerable.

While he gawked, Ruby worked on his chest, feathering the edges of the falsies she had glued on so they seemed to be part of his body.

It didn't just feel weird to Davey, it sent bolts of weirdness deep into his soul.

Ruby sat back. "I made them edges disappear," she told him.

"I'm disappearing," said Davey.

"Nothing left of you soon," she agreed, grinning at him. "'Cept a pair of Double Dees."

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm gonna show you ... ."

"You're not gonna touch me! Not there!"

"Okay, okay. Do it yourself, sugah. Pull the girdle most of the way up, tuck things back and in and ... you never done this before?"

"Before what?"

"Hee, hee! Before what, I like that. Yeah, sugah, now snug it up to your waist, and see? Flat in front and the padding in the girdle give a bit more booty than your po' white ass came with OEM."

"OEM?"

"Originally Equipped Male. You're blushing! You so cute, baby. Your date gonna eat your fine self up, sugah."

While Ruby dealt with Davey's falsies, Beth had depilated his legs then creamed and soothed them and painted his toenails. Stockings attached to garters and then the blue leather mini went on, fastened with a concealed zipper in the back.

Ruby and Beth surveyed their work. "Mm, hmm?" asked Ruby.

"Mmm," agreed Beth.

"What?" Davey wanted to know. He blinked, eye makeup made his lids feel heavy.

"You needs jewelry, and a bag," said Ruby.

"If your date doesn't offer jewelry, marriage or bearer bonds, check his pulse," said Beth.

The women laughed. Davey, too, though he wasn't sure why.

With a necklace of shell beads, matching clip-on earrings, a spritz of stinkum and a touch-up of gloss and mascara, Davey wobbled away on a new pair of heels.

"First dates are so bittersweet," said Beth.

"If you got bitter fruit, make Calvados," Ruby said, producing a broad-shouldered black bottle and a smaller gold one. "Got orange soda? We can toast our girl."

Soon each had a Bitter Orange Cocktail. "To Dee Dee," said Beth.

Ruby sipped. "That'll put a wiggle in your tail."

"We should have made one for her."

"She'll be okay," said Ruby, looking toward the door.

"Who?" Davey asked.

"Frankie the Nose?"

"I never heard of him."

Larry patted Davey's hand. "Don't worry, if you're not a member of The Industry, you won't be expected to know who he is."

Davey almost yanked his hand back from where it rested on Larry's arm, but wearing high heels made him worry about falling on his face in the middle of the street. His beautiful new face -- he reached up to touch his own cheek with a delicately painted fingernail. "He's in show business? Mr. the Nose?" he asked.

"Something like that. You ever watch The Sopranos?"

Larry held the door as Davey entered the apartment on the fourteenth floor of the Del Amo Hotel. A distinguished middle-aged man sat in an antique chair, a bottle of wine and two glasses near him on an elegant table.

Larry made an introduction, Davey didn't listen except to start when referred to as 'Miss Dee Dee LaTours'. It's Davey Towers, he reminded himself.

"Please sit, my dear," said the older man, standing as Davey entered. "I'll pour the wine and we can get acquainted."

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Davey. His own nervous giggle caught him by surprise.

"Can I ask something?"

"Ask."

"Why do they call you, 'The Nose?'"

"Three reasons: first is my name. My ancestors came from Tripoli and the family name got written down as Al Nez in Italy. Nez sounds like nose."

"So you're part Arab?"

"Greek. They adopted the name because of where they lived."

"Oh."

"Second, I do have a big nose. Having a big nose is considered manly. You may giggle but it's true."

"I'm not giggling."

"It's a cute giggle. Third, I've got a reputation for smelling trouble, guessing right when things go wrong."

"Maybe you've got a cold?"

"Tell me about yourself," said Frankie the Nose.

"You were reading a book earlier. Do you read a lot?"

"I read a lot. I guess. If I'm not going to class or sleeping, I'm studying or reading just for fun." Davey wanted to not get too specific about himself. He glanced down at his plastic bosoms. Things were weird enough without discussing his boyhood while dressed like a high class call girl.

"You're a student? What are you studying? A pretty girl like you, I'll bet you end up with your MRS degree," Frankie teased.

Davey stared blankly. "My what?"

"What are you studying?"

"Communications. I want to be a journalist."

"And I'm asking all the questions. Except about my nickname. Which school?"

"City. Down in Tribeca."

"Do you live with your parents?"

"No. I share an apartment in the Village."

"Good. I wouldn't want them to worry about you."

"You have a sexy voice," said Frankie.

Uh oh, thought Davey, here it comes.

"I do?" he said.

"Yes, I like hearing it. I like looking at you, too. Read to me. Would you do that?"

"Read to you?"

"Yes," said Frankie, almost closing his eyes. "There's a book on the table beside you. Read that." He watched through thick, Mediterranean eyelashes while Davey found the book.

It looked like a hardback reprint of an old pulp novel, complete with lurid painting on the book jacket. Davey opened it to the first page and read aloud. "How could she refuse?"

The story concerned a series of misadventures featuring a young woman and her older lover, some funny, some poignant, but all ended with the couple in bed--

scenes explicit enough that Davey blushed. Still, it wasn't like basic cable didn't offer programs just as vivid.

"That's enough for now," said Frankie the Nose. He stood, smiling down at Davey. "Thank you. Larry will pay for your time, Dee Dee. We'll finish this book tomorrow. Same time?"

Davey blinked, unsure of how to answer. "Tomorrow?" he asked.

Frankie nodded. "I like the way you're dressed," he added just before leaving the room.

"Where are we going?" Davey asked.

After Frankie left, Larry returned and led Davey to the elevators. "Your place," said Larry. But they stopped on the twelfth floor.

Larry showed Davey to a room--a fully furnished apartment with kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom and sitting room.

"Whose place is this?" Davey asked, wondering how soon he'd be able to go home and change out of his callgirl masquerade.

"It's yours now, Dee Dee. Packy is bringing your stuff from the Village." Larry smiled. "Boss wants you close, in case he needs some reading done in the middle of the night, you know?"

"Here's your purse," said Larry, "with your new ID and credit card."

Davey stared, not wanting to take it. "This can't be happening," he said.

"Of course it's happening." Larry smiled, placing the purse under Davey's arm. "A nice old guy wants to pay your rent, buy your clothes and food and give you $500 monthly allowance on the credit card -- and all you have to do is read and look beautiful -- which he's also paying for."

"But," Davey protested, "I'm a guy?"

"I said it was really happening, I didn't say it made sense," Larry pointed out.

Davey explored the apartment. The kitchenette had a small refrigerator, a three burner range-top, a tiny electric oven, a microwave and a sink, all surrounded by blond cabinetry. "It's so cute," he said.

Larry smirked. "I'm glad you like it."

Davey blushed. A breakfast bar separated the cooking area from the front room with its enormous HDTV and plush sectional sofa. "How long will this last?"

"We took a seven year lease."

Davey felt his knees go weak.

"You might want an advanced degree." Larry shrugged.

"Advanced degree?" Davey squeaked.

"You're going to City, right?"

"Oh, college," said Davey, relieved.

"Frankie Al Nez will pay my rent, pay for my schooling, give me an allowance and all I have to do is dress like this" --Davey gestured at his tight leather dress-- "and read to him?"

"Or whatever else he wants," agreed Larry.

"That part scares me."

Larry shrugged. "It's going to be better if you take the deal."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really."

"What else might he want?"

"No idea. But the boss isn't a bad man."

"Could have fooled me," Davey muttered. Still, he hadn't been hurt -- except for the waxing, that did hurt.

"What do I tell my folks?" asked Davey.

"Tell them as much or as little as you want," said Larry. "Whatever you say, they're going to find it hard to believe."

Davey nodded. He noticed a phone hanging from the wall in the kitchenette. "Can I use that?" he asked.

"It's your phone."

Davey spoke with his mother for a few minutes, telling her only that he'd found a new place to stay in a nicer part of town.

Larry went to answer the door. Davey had just hung up when he heard Little Ruby's musical contralto, "Baby, Mommy's home!"

"What are you doing here, Ruby?" Davey wanted to know.

"Sugah, you just tell me that you know 'xactly how to make yourself look scrumptious ever'day and I'm gone."

Ruby made leaving-on-a-jetplane motions with her hands, then wiggled all over and grinned. "I'm here when you need me, sugah. I'm yo' Uptown Mommy in a Downtown Way."

Davey frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I don't translate, child, 'cause I just make it up as I go 'long."

"I'm not sure..." Davey began.

"Not sure you need me? Honey, babymine-so-fine, how you goin' get out of that dress without help? Mmm?"

Ruby "unwrapped" Davey, or Dee Dee, as she called him when she wasn't calling him "baby," "honey" or "child."

Jewelry, dress, shoes and hose came off but Ruby stopped before removing the padded girdle and corset. Instead, she showed him how to open the crotch to relieve himself without taking things off.

"But, but..." he tried to say.

"And a nice round one you got, long as you're in yo' wrapper." She admired him extravagantly, bullied him unmercifully, and talked incessantly or sang. "Lucky old Frank, he's got a hank o'hair and a hunk o'bone, you a walkin', talkin' honeycomb!"

Davey, or Dee Dee, wrapped the fluffy robe around his, or her, waist and tied the belt.

"You wrapped that the wrong way, honey," said Ruby.

"What?" said Davey.

"Girls wrap their robes right-over-left, not the other way."

"You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh, here, lemme show you how to do it; You tied the knot wrong, too."

"This is crazy."

Ruby chuckled. "What's crazy is a girl like you with so much talent she ain't even discovered. But don't worry, Mommy Ruby gonna show you what you don't know how."

"Now I'm worried."

"And that's why you're so keeyoot, sugar," said Ruby.

Ruby had him practice putting on and taking off makeup for most of the evening before finally disappearing about nine p.m.

"Get some beauty sleep, sugah," she ordered. "I'll be back to help you get ready for your morning classes."

Before Davey could protest, she was gone. He followed to the door and opened it to find Larry standing there, smiling, looking him up and down.

"I can't sleep in this stuff," Davey protested, still wearing the corset and padded girdle with a pink nightgown and robe over it. "Ruby sewed me into this, I can't get it off!"

Larry had brought a contract for personal services with him.

Davey read it. A thousand dollars a week to be deposited in an offshore account, with ten thousand dollar bonuses for the first month, first six months, escalating bonuses each year and another bigger bonus at the end of seven years. The amount totaled to $604,000 plus interest earned.

Additionally, Quentin Francesco Al Nez Associates would pay 'Dee Dee La Tours' living expenses, college expenses, medical expenses and up to $500 a month allowance with a cost of living adjustment each year.

"Frankie's first name is Quentin?" asked Davey.

"You want to sleep on it?" Larry asked.

"I don't think I can in this corset."

"A pill?"

"No. I'm going to read this contract again. Buy-out clauses. Extension options. Twenty-five hours a week for classes. Five days off a month and a three week all-expenses-paid vacation. But it doesn't say what 'personal services' are."

"Just being Dee Dee when the Boss wants to see you."

Davey frowned. "Come back tomorrow. I'll decide then if I want to do this every day for seven years."

In the hallway, Packy asked, "She going to sign?"

Larry smiled. "How could she refuse?"

An apostrophizing drabble.

I can’t say that I miss you because I'd wanted you gone for too long. Admittedly, we had some fun together, but my belief strengthened that we were not compatible: I wanted to share my inner being with someone; you only wanted to push us out to join with others in a different way. I changed my world-view and its view of me; you were a vestige of a previous life.

We should have parted long ago. Now, finally, here I am, free of you and your hanging around. Although... I will always keep a piece of you inside me.

 © 2007 JLW

Easter is a day to celebrate rebirth and the start of new life - in more ways than one.

Easter

By J. L. Wendelin

Easter.

An appropriate day to begin her RLE.

The mirror showed a young woman in a green, floral-print dress. Nervously, smoothing the skirt over her hips, yet again, she smiled. And donned her Easter hat, a present from her mother. The gift was a surprise after their turmoil during the past year.

A horn beeped out front; her mom, with a ride to church.

Adjust the hat, one last check in the mirror.

Retrieving her purse, she took a deep breath, let it out with an affirming, “You go girl!” and opened the door to a new day and life.

Copyright 2007 JLW

Inspired by a real side-effects warning I read. Another drabble.

Side Effects

By Jamie Lou

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Yes, Tom, how can I help you?” my doctor answered the phone.

“Um, you know that new med?”

“Yes.”

“I saw a man in the mall today. I couldn’t take my eyes off his crotch. He was sexy. Made me horny. I was jealous of his girlfriend.”

“And the dresses! I was attracted to them. I wanted to try them. What really scared me was Victoria’s Secret. I wanted that silky material against my skin.”

“I’ve never been attracted to men or crossdressing before and the side effect warning says ‘Notify your doctor immediately of any changes in sexual interest’…”

Watching her move away, into the crowd, he dwelt on their last words.

“But Winston, nobody will know. You’re lovely when dressed.”

“It’s not right Meredith.”

“But I need you with me. I love you.”

“And I love you, but no, I..I...just can’t.”

Finally her moon-lit faced, turned beseechingly towards him, was blocked by the broad back of a sailor. Relieved his attention turned to the steward’s voice, constantly droning, “Women and children first. Women and children first.”

Sadly he was too old to be the latter and had not been blessed to be born the former.

Dinner was over, dessert was delicious, and the coffee was, too. ‘Maddy always knows the best places to eat,’ Jason mused as they left the restaurant. Luck or magic, he didn’t know — and didn’t really care.

He kissed her lovingly.

“Mmmmmm,” she whispered. “Yummy. You taste …”

“Like what?” he asked, curious.

With a grin, Maddy stood on tiptoe and kissed him again --

-- and Jason tasted peppermint, and coffee. And lipstick. She felt strong arms around her, and looked up into her own eyes as Maddy’s smile grew upon his lips.

She loved being married to a witch.

...and then he was a she...

Just fer the hell of it, a drabble

This is a work of adult fiction.
No resemblance to reality
should be inferred or expected.
Copyright KLS 2008.

Wild Times

By Kristina.L.S.

… plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She said hey babe, take a walk on the wild side…
"Huh… just some old song."
"Lou who?"
"Oh, this? Just tweezers and a razor."
"Well, I'm just deciding. So whatya think,
this skirt and top… these heels?
Or… this dress?"
"Hmmm… yeah I agree, the skirt and top."
"Why? Whatya mean why?"
"Just because, it feels right."
"No, it doesn't. You do still want to go?"
"Oh, we can still chase chicks.
Just I'm lookin' for a different type."

Doo da doo da…….

~~with thanks to Lou Reed

Half-Drabble - TG Shakespeare
By Missy Crystal

With apologies to Will.

Transposition, transition, transfix, transaction, transcend, transgender, transect, transfer, transitory, transplant, transfix, transform, transvestite, transatlantic, transpire, transmute, transparent, transgress, transient, transducer, transsexual, transliterate, transpiration, transduce, transfigure, transfusion, transpond, transit, transcontinental, transmission, transducer, transitive, translate, translocate, transmogrify, transmit, transpose. All the words a tranny and all the men and women merely players.

.
.

.1). THE LIMITS OF ACCEPTANCE

"Mom? I have something to tell you..."

"Goodness, this sounds serious. Let's sit down here. What is it, Honey?"

"I'm......... I'm a Tr-"

"You're Transgendered? I knew dear. I was pretty sure anyway. You've always seemed more like a daughter. Your father and I were expecting this. We love you no matter what."

"Ohhhh that's wonderful, Mom! I was working up the nerve to tell you someday."

"But you just told me..."

"That's not what I was gonna say though. It's............ something else."

"You can say it. My brave girl!"

"I'm.............. a Trekkie."

"Oh God!! Where did we go WRONG?!!"
.

.
.2). GOOD NEWS/BAD NEWS. (for Julie O.)

GOOD NEWS: You meet this Adonis at a bar.

BAD NEWS: He's from Romania.

GOOD: He speaks English perfectly.

BAD: He brags incessantly.

GOOD: You want him anyway.

BAD: You're not technically a woman yet.

GOOD: He says he has a thing for T-girls.

BAD: In the parking garage, the "thing" turns out to be a crowbar!
He has restraints, surgical equipment.

GOOD: You're a witch, working for the Magical Justice Department.
You've been on this monster's trail for months. You easily subdue him.

BAD: Before his trial, he's extradited back to Bucharest.

GOOD: Romanian witch-justice is swift, and ......... creative.
.

.
.3). SOMETHING QUITE ATROCIOUS...

My sister Shantisha was incredulous, "You're saying Kelly, our building superintendant, wasn't always a guy?"

"He was always a guy, he just be in th' wrong body."

"Oh God, there you go with that shit again. You know what I'm sayin'. It's just ........ I mean Kelly!
Who woulda guessed?! And does he have a ........ you know."

"Penis? Sure does. It's not fully functional, but it look real, man!"

"How on Earth did they do that?"

"Made it from his toes."

"His toes?"

I sang my response, "Our ......... super Kelly's fake realistic sex be all his toes, Sis!"
.

.
.4) THE DEVIL AND WENDY WILSON

It was the most painful decision I'd ever made. I sighed, "Sorry Lucifer. No deal."

"What? It's what you always wanted, Wendell! I've heard your tears,
your prayers," he pointed upward, "And He obviously doesn't care..."

"It's been horrible, this life, feeling like a woman and looking like .......... this.
But He must have reasons, I gotta trust that."

"You're NUTS!" he sneered.

"Probably..."

"Well I'd say you passed."

"If I passed I'd have other options."

"No, I meant," he unscrewed his horns, pocketed them. Produced a glowing halo,
positioned it over his head, and smiled, "It's your lucky day..."

.
.5). LITTLE MISS FORTUNES

I woke up one morning and logged onto my computer to check out the latest stories on BigCloset. But I misspelled "bigcloset"---accidently typing in "bigcloser"---and I was suddenly thrust into the exciting world of real estate!

My every move was brilliant. I could sell the crappiest properties effortlessly. Soon I was earning seven figures, then eight!

Until the morning I went to write "bigcloser" and accidently typed "bigloser". As the bottom fell out of the real estate market, the IRS discovered my various dodges, and---oh calamity!---I lost everything...

All I've got left is this drabble.
.

.
.6). The Mistery Woman of Mystery ~~~ A DRIBBLE

Last year on another site I read four or five stories in the span of a week that seemed barely literate, that were so godawful that I started to wonder if somebody wasn't putting us on, submitting them as hoaxes....... The on-line reviewers lambasted these authors mercilessly, and while I refrained from saying anything hurtful, it inspired me to try to pen the worst piece of transgender fiction ever written:
.

He said this elivater will took me to top of Eifful Tower and I say form here in Miniapellis?? Really??? and "Yes" he said so I did.

.
Oh. And I was a man waring a dress.

.
7.). GENDER-FLUID

I'd never heard the term "gender-fluid" until that day.

"So, what's the problem ....... Mister ....... Miss-"

"You can't tell, can you Doctor?"

"No."

"That's the problem. Neither can I."

"But which sex do you feel like?"

"I don't."

"Aha!!" he exclaimed. Dug into my navel. Out popped a valve stem.

"JESUS!"

"Relax, everybody has one. But it should have a cap on it. Your genderfluid's leaked out."

"My what?"

"Lie back..."

He put a funnel into the stem. Took what resembled a gallon of cheap blueberry punch from a cabinet.

"Um ........... could I try that pink kind there?"
.

.
.8). The Queerometer Never Lies . (Just a gay old drabble, circa 1998...)
.

My new neighbor seemed nice enough, in a macho ignoramus kind of way. His cluttered apartment
had porno mags scattered everywhere. He got us beers, turned on the television.

"That dude's a goddamn faggot."

"That actor? You heard this?"

"I just know. I always know."

I saw one serious flaw in his claim, but just nodded.

"And him too!"

"Gene Hackman? You sure?"

"Positive. 'Cause whenever I see a homo, I get this ......... reaction. Kinda like my grandma
knowing it was gonna rain. F*ckin' queers are everywhere."

"What kind of reaction?"

"It's like ............. my dick gets hard."

.

.

.
"You quit racing to be with me, Lightning? Oh I should've told you. You'll hate me!"

"Impossible!"

"I haven't been honest. This is a new body."

"Wrecks happen. But you're okay now."

"No, a different body. I was---and my chassis is---Mustang."

"Don't talk crazy, Sally. Mustangs are boy cars ................... Oh."

Lightning was disturbed. He'd rubbed tailpipes with this vehicle.

"But you're such a Porsche!"

"I always was, inside. I hated being a muscle car."

Lightning took a long drive. Returned.

"Well ...... every relationship has its flaws to overcome."

"So I'm 'flawed'?"

"No, you're perfect. I meant mine."

“So this will switch me around?”

“It most certainly will. You will no longer be a girl trapped inside a boy’s body.”

I closed my eyes and slammed down the potion in one gulp.

The devil looked pleased as he said, “One more soul in the pocket and another 'happy customer.”

It took a moment for me to realize the horror of what had happened. Being so close to my dream, yet so far away.

“What do you mean, another happy customer? Now I’m a boy in a girl's body!”

“My part of the deal is taken care of. Goodbye.”

“It is not a girl.. it has boy bits!”

“What the hell? Why are you calling her 'it'?”

“Cause IT is not a girl!”

“But by your own definition she’d be a boy! Why call her an IT then?”

“That? A Boy? Are you kidding me?!?”

“So let me get this straight. Even though she has boy bits you claim she has nothing between her legs?”

“Huh?”

“An 'it' is genderless, no sex between the legs. Since you have no trouble calling her that, you shouldn’t have a problem calling her ‘her’ either! You’ve already ignored your own objections.”

“…”

*TRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNGGGG*

My hand swung out to shut up the alarm clock.

I could still feel the wind on my skin, smell the scents of the forest, taste his lips on mine. I kept my eyes clenched shut in order to retain those precious memories for just a few moments longer, but before I knew it the lingering feeling had escaped like mist between my fingers.

Slowly I lifted my hands up to my chest, already certain of the disappointment that was awaiting me. A single tear fell from my cheek as my cupped hands rested upon my flat chest.

Damnit.

“Gynecomastia can be eliminated!”
A play on an add i see here which just doesn't seem to belong.

“Gynecomastia can be eliminated!” the poster said.

I trembled as mom led me inside.

God no, don’t let them do this. I’ve worked so hard to get these, please don’t let them take them away. They are mine! Mine!!! They had cost me a small fortune in hormones and years to grow... They weren’t much, but they were mine!

What I felt wasn’t real she said. I was misguided she said. Mother always knows best. Heh.. yeah right. I wish she never walked in on me.

Mom let go of me for a second to open the door

I ran.

“So what’s wrong with being a boy?”

“Nothing, but I’m not a boy!”

“Okay, okay, that’s obviously clear by now. But will she understand?”

“She loves me right? Nothing would change that… I hope”

“God, I don’t even want to think about that possibility.”

“I have to tell her though. I don’t think I can carry on like this.”

“Yeah, I know… I know…”

“Think I’m ready to face her?”

“Ready? Probably not. But I can’t wait for that.”

“Johnny, are you talking to the mirror again?”, mom’s voice came from the hallway.

“Mom, I need to tell you something…”

“I’m sorry Mr. White, but we can’t honor your request to have your birth certificate altered. It’s clearly against the law.”

“Will you at least have the courtesy to call me Miss?! What do you it’s mean against the law?”

“To have your birth certificate changed to female, one of the stipulations is that you have to be infertile. It clearly says so right here.”

“So because I’m the first to make it all the way, I can’t be recognized as such?”

“You are obviously still fertile sir, so therefore you cannot be female legally.”

“Obviously?!?! I’m pregnant damnit! AAAarrgh!”

----------
To explain this drabble I have to tell a little bit about how things are done in the Netherlands. I don’t know if the same stipulation exists in other countries, but in the Netherlands it turns out that you need to be infertile to be considered for changing the birth certificate. The document from the doctor that explains you’ve had surgery needs to say that you’ve had the operation AND that you are now forever unable to have children.

Love,
Amber

“Mom, dad, there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t quite know where to start…” Mark sat nervously on his chair, his parents on the couch across him. Though his parents seemed relaxed he felt like it was the inquisition.

Dad spoke up first, “Don’t worry son, I think we already know what you want to tell us. You are gay aren’t you? It’s okay, we have no problem with it. That’s what you wanted to tell us right?”

Mark fidgeted a bit before answering, “Uhm, well… yes… that too. I would like you to meet my lover, Alice.”