The Part Timer
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Old Timer
By Pretzelgirl
The old brass bell jangled, bringing a smile to the face of the prune
faced old timer in a worn flannel shirt standing beneath. The warm tones
of the bell conjured up memories of dime stores, family owned shops,
and the small town America of his youth.
"Nice to see you ain't got a electric chimer like most of this mall," he
bellowed to the shop's proprietor.
An equally grizzled man in a frayed, threadbare robe shot back a smile
from behind a dusty, wooden counter.
"I do it on purpose," the shop owner replied. "Most of my customers lack
your experiences. Some have never even laid eyes on a bell before."
The aged customer chuckled while hobbling past a wooden shelf of
apothecary bottles. He sighed as he reached the counter and leaned
heavily on it.
"Kids today!" he said, shaking his head wearily. "Still, what I wouldn't
give to be young again... and not so damned tired all the time."
The store owner grinned, slowly cracked his knuckles, and leaned back
his wrinkled head: "Dannie!" he shouted before turning back to his
customer. "I think my youthful assistant might be best suited to help you."
From behind a mountain of books in the back of the store, a chestnut-haired
young woman in a sleeveless yellow sundress popped up. She looked
inquisitively at the customer, then skipped merrily up to the counter.
"Yes, chief?" she sang out melodiously.
"This gentleman is looking for the means to be young again," the shop
owner replied. "Show him what our magic can do. Make him feel young,
just like you."
With that, the old proprietor shuffled off to attend to the inventory
Dannie had been engrossed in.
"Miss, I appreciate this," began the aged customer. "But this ain't what
I had in mind."
The young woman merrily laughed a sing-song giggle. "It's not what you
think. The Magus would never do something so crass anyhow. Trust me, I
really do have the power to make you young again. Is that what you want?"
The old man squinted his eyes and frowned long at the young woman before
finally answering: "Yes. Yes, I'd give anything to be young as you."
"Oh, you won't have to give anything," she answered. "For one reason or
another, this one's on the house. But remember this -- you'll still be
yourself on the inside regardless of outer appearances. You're still just
you where it counts."
"If this is some superficial lesson in how 'beauty is only skin-deep',
you can spare me the sermon," the man scoffed. "I learned all I need to
know before you got born!"
Silently smiling, Dannie plucked a long strand of hair from her head.
Gazing deep into the old man's pale blue eyes, she slowly wound the
strand in an imaginary circle above his head, then gently released it.
As the hair floated to the ground, the man's body changed, renewing in
vigor and strength.
The patchy white stubble of hair on his scalp suddenly burst into life,
as long wiggling strands of wavy brown hair sprouted out, replacing the
old. The wild, tangled brows above his eyes shrank into delicate arches.
Likewise, his ruddy, bulbous nose withdrew to a more dainty size, while
his dry, cracked lips slowly became moist and full. His formerly sky-blue
eyes now shone a rich emerald hue.
As the strand of Dannie's hair slowly wafted downward, the rest of the
old man's body continued to reshape itself. His neck changed from a rough
tree trunk into a smooth ivory column. His shoulders shifted from
broad-yet-stooped to narrow-yet-curved. Large mammary mounds erupted
from his chest, dictating new contours across his faded plaid shirt. The
fit of his tired, working man's jeans grew tighter and rounder on his
hips and rear, while the rest of the jeans sagged about his now shorter
legs.
"Wh-what have you done to me?" he asked in a lilting, melodious pitch.
"You've been granted your wish," Dannie answered. "And free of charge,
to boot. Clearly the Magus liked you. He normally charges some small
token amount."
"But I'm a girl!" exclaimed the man, holding cupped hands just outside
his new breasts, not daring to touch them.
"I know," answered Dannie. "That's what we do here. Listen, you're going
to have a great new life. Just go out there and enjoy being young. So
you've changed sex... what difference does that really make?"
Dannie's identical twin nodded dumbly.
"Life is what we make of it," she continued. "Go out, have a ball! But
remember, you're still only you."
In a wordless daze, the new girl hitched up the sagging part of her
frayed jeans and silently wandered out the door.
Striding through the crowded mall, she reflected on the renewed vigor
in her muscles, the newfound grace in her joints, the refreshing lack of
pain throughout her body. Every one of her cells felt energized with
purpose, with magic, with youth.
On the walk back to the old timer's home, the new girl wondered to herself
where to go from here, what sort of a life to embrace. Certainly, she
couldn't tell people what had happened to her. But so few people had known
her old male self, it mightn't matter. She could live a quiet, modest
existence off his savings posing as some kind of nurse in his house. She'd
need a whole new wardrobe, which would be expensive... but might be a
little fun. Suppressing a giggle, she pondered the queer joy of shopping
for skirts, blouses, dresses, and dainty underthings. What had seemed so
implausible now appeared oddly enticing. Gradually, she knew she'd develop
a new life -- perhaps moving the charade of nursing for one old man into
volunteering as a candy-striper... maybe attending nursing school, eventually
... in a few years, she could let go the whole fiction and really be a new
person -- a woman, but her life could be just as fulfilling as that of the
"Dannie" girl who'd helped him become her.
So in the course of the coming months, she did exactly that. The old timer
abruptly developed the habits of a hermit, never heard or seen again, while
"Danielle" became a social butterfly -- at least among the inhabitants of
Valley Springs Retirement Castle, where she volunteered five days a week,
much to the delight of both staff and residents. The nursing staff
complimented her daily on the altruistic dedication she'd shown, so uncommon
among women her age. The old timers found her youth and beauty a breath of
fresh air, and equally delighted themselves with her apparent experience
with and empathy for the plight of the aged.
One of the old timers in particular, a retired dairy farmer named Collins,
developed a special bond with Danielle. The two had grown up in the same
part of the state, attended the same high school, and been raised in similarly
agricultural-oriented families. Their bonds of serving in similar units
during the war and knowing the loneliness of living as childless widowers
remained unspoken.
On a sunny morning in early May, the world bursting with life, Danielle
arrived at Valley Springs with a light heart and a bouncing step, only to
find old Collins in tears. The night had been hard for one reason or another,
he wouldn't articulate the pain, be it physical or emotional. Danielle
understood men of his generation found it difficult to put pain into words.
Without ever learning the Why of his tears, she understood the How, and felt
it grossly unfair that her life could be renewed while someone in equally
dire straits remained abandoned.
Smiling silently, Danielle stood above the withered, wrinkled spectre of
old man Collins and plucked one long dark strand of hair from her scalp.
She gazed long at the whites of his tear-stained, bloodshot eyes and
gradually wound the strand about his head in a slow orbit before softly
releasing it to the breeze. The solitary hair drifted gently to the ground
... but Danielle was the one who changed.
Her smooth, white nurse's tights grew slack in places as her leg muscles
atrophied and coarse, veiny stubble sprouted beneath the pantyhose. Her hip
bones narrowed and grew brittle again, while an wrinkled, flaccid penis
suddenly fell out from between her formerly tight vaginal lips. Danielle's
energetic posture collapsed into a painful, arthritic bend, while the ripe
melons barely constrained by her bra shrank and shriveled into little more
than loose flaps of skins beneath a clearly useless bra.
She gasped in abject horror at gnarled, withered hands still sporting long
bright pink nails. Her chin widened, sprouting a cracked, weedy, sun-reddened
texture. The candy-striper's petite nose exploded into a ruddy, misshapen
bulge, while her verdant eyes paled and grew watery, red-lined, and acquired
a washed-out bluish hue. Her wavy, chestnut hair withered into a short,
winter-white dusting across her rough scalp.
A single tear ran down the old candy-striper's left cheek as she saw she'd
become him again: a ridiculous-looking old clown in a young nurse's clothes.
-The End-
Gigi
- 30.11.2021
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