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CLOAKED By Lana B. FORWORD This story is centered on a familiar and somewhat well-worn concept but one that I've always liked. So here's my spin on it. My thanks to the authors of similar stories from whom I've drawn inspiration. Enjoy. This story may not be re-posted without the permission of the author. PROLOGUE Augie Provenzino looked down the long table as the men entered the room and took their seats. They'd come to this meeting at his request to discuss a number of disturbing incidents which had occurred in the last few weeks. As the men seated themselves and chatted with one another Augie reflected on his good fortune. Three years ago Vinny Provenzino, Augie's older brother and the head of the Provenzino crime family, had tragically died of prostate cancer at the age of 56. In a closed ballot the family's capos had unanimously elected Augie the new family boss. Augie didn't feel the least bit guilty about advancing his position in the family through his brother's death. For truth be told, since they'd been children Augie and Vinny had never really liked each other. But they'd made every attempt to get along to please their father Carlo, the founder and first boss of the Provenzino crime family. Carlo Provenzino was the head of the family for just over forty years until he retired and moved to Florida to live the good life in 1994. He'd handed over the reins of the family to his oldest son Vinny and no one had breathed even a sigh of discontent at his choice. Carlo was the founder of the family and he'd made lots of money for all of them. He had certainly earned the right to hand-pick his successor. Unfortunately Carlo didn't get the opportunity to assess the prudence of his selection with 20/20 hindsight because six months after his retirement, he'd been accidentally killed when a visually challenged 96-year-old woman lost control of her Buick and ran it into the table on the sidewalk cafe in Boca Raton where Carlo had been sipping his customary 11:00am bloody Mary. Augie returned his thoughts to the present and noticed that the chatting was dying down. He figured it was a good time to start the meeting. He arose and clanked the water glass with a spoon. "Alright, why don't we get started," Augie announced and watched as his men discontinued their chatter and gave him their full attention. "Why don't you give us the latest dope Joe?" Augie asked as he turned to his consigliore sitting at his right hand. Joe Montero stood up and all eyes turned to him. He was a man who had presence and commanded respect. He'd been with the family for over 20 years and had proved to be a good wartime consigliore. Joe nodded his head in acknowledgment to Augie and said, "Well, the Russians are trying to move in on our territories in lower Manhattan and the north Bronx. They've opened a number of bookmaking joints and they've sent in their whores and pimps too. We warned them against it but it fell on deaf ears. Not only that but yesterday two of our runners were robbed out of more than $10,000 each. And one of them was stabbed in the chest when he put up a fight. He's in critical condition as we speak. My sources tell me it was the Russians." "Which Russians Joe?" Augie asked. "That fucking Vladimir Kichenko and his brigade," Joe answered. "Okay Joe. You're the consigliore. What do you suggest?" Joe stared straight into Augie's eyes and said, "We need to send those Russkie fucks a message. A strong message." All the capos nodded their heads in assent. Augie thought for a moment and said, "I agree. They're getting way too bold for their own good. We'll send them a message they won't forget." PART ONE- DUMB LUCK Donnie Harker made his way across the street and entered the Sinclair Hotel on Lexington Avenue in midtown Manhattan. He had his camera in hand. For the past five years he'd worked as a photographer for the New York Post. He took snapshots of movie and television stars, politicians and other celebrities as they went about the business of leading their famous lives. Harker knew that his newspaper's readers craved to see these pictures. They were titillated by them. He wasn't quite sure why the public demanded these pictures but that was not something he dwelt on. He simply looked at it as a job. The pictures were in demand and he supplied them. He fully realized that he was a paparazzi on the newspaper's payroll and he made no bones about it. But Harker tried to be a different type of paparazzi. He was polite. He always asked the celebrities for permission to take their pictures and he found that this method worked well. He usually always got the shot that he was after. He was a firm adherent of the adage that you could get more with honey than with vinegar. This Sunday afternoon Harker was chasing snapshots of Ivan Kichenko, who'd just been married this morning in a strictly private ceremony at his uncle's Westchester estate. Ivan was now in attendance at the wedding reception in the Sinclair Hotel. Pictures of Ivan Kichenko were in demand because his uncle, Vladimir Kichenko, was the boss of the infamous Kichenko Brigade, the preeminent Russian organized crime family in New York. It had been rumored that Ivan was being groomed by his uncle to take the reins of the family upon Vladimir's retirement in the not-too-distant future. The Post's readers coveted pictures of organized crime figures to the same degree as movie stars and Harker would try to give them what they wanted. So he made his way to the men's room near the reception hall and parked himself there. He knew that Ivan would ultimately need to use the bathroom and when nature called Donnie would ask his permission to take a few shots. Harker waited for over an hour and watched as the wedding reception guests came and went. Finally Ivan walked in and Donnie approached him. "Hello Mr. Kichenko. I'm with the Post. Our readers would just love a few pictures of you. What do you say?" "Well, I do not see any reason why not. Okay sure." Just as Harker took his third shot of Kichenko a tall man entered the bathroom. He was carrying a gun. And it had a silencer on the barrel. The man with the gun said, "Time to say goodbye Kichenko," and he shot him in the chest. The shooter quickly turned his attention to Donnie and said, "Guess you're in the wrong place at the wrong time pal." He then shot Donnie in the chest. Right before the shot went off Harker thought, "Just my dumb luck." The shooter picked up the camera and absconded the bathroom and then the hotel. PART TWO- SAFEHOUSE Donnie slowly opened his eyes and looked into the pretty face. "Hello Mr. Harker. I'm Lois Press, special agent with the FBI." "Where am I?" "You're in the hospital. You were shot. Do you remember?" Donnie thought for a moment and remembered. "Yeah," he said. "You know, you're lucky you survived. The bullet just missed your heart. It went right through your lung and out your back. Ivan Kichenko wasn't so lucky. He didn't make it." What this woman had just said made Donnie recall the shooting and the circumstances which had led up to it. "Did you get a good look at the shooter Mr. Harker? Do you think you can identify him?" Donnie concentrated on the incident and he recalled that he'd looked right into the shooter's eyes before he pulled the trigger. An image of his face materialized in Donnie's mind. He answered, "Yeah." "That's very good news Mr. Harker." Just then a man in a white medical coat entered the room and walked up to the bed. He said, "Hello Mr. Harker. I'm Dr. Gooden. I'm glad to see you've come around. It was touch and go there for awhile you know. We had to remove about twenty percent of your left lung. But I believe you'll make a complete recovery. How do you feel?" "My chest hurts a little." "That's to be expected after what you've been through, Mr. Harker," Dr. Gooden advised. The doctor looked at the medical chart secured to the foot of the bed and he then he walked to the bed's side and placed his stethoscope on Donnie's chest. Dr. Gooden listened intently as he moved the stethoscope around and finally said, "Everything seems to be in order Mr. Harker. I'll check back in about two hours. We'll run a complete battery of tests this afternoon now that you've regained consciousness." As the doctor exited the room Donnie noticed the two men in suits just outside the door. He asked Lois Press, "Who are those men outside?" "They're your bodyguards Mr. Harker." "My bodyguards?" "That's right. We believe the shooter was with the Mafia. Kichenko was killed in retaliation for something. You're in the middle of a mob war Mr. Harker. Your life is in danger. That's why we've assigned you bodyguards." "Well fuck me." *** Donnie remained an inpatient in the hospital while his recovery progressed. And all the while he remained under the close scrutiny of round-the-clock FBI bodyguards. He was finally discharged after three weeks and taken to an FBI safehouse in Bridgeport, Connecticut, where he was assigned his own room. He noticed that there were feds everywhere. He began to unpack the new clothes the FBI had gotten him and he heard a knock on the door. "Come in." It was Lois Press. "Hello Mr. Harker. How are you holding up?" she inquired. "Okay I guess. All my friends call me Donnie." "Alright then Donnie. Then please call me Lois." "Okay. What's next Lois?" "What's next is I would like you to look through this mug book to see if you can pick out the shooter. Okay?" "Okay." Donnie looked through the book for five minutes and came upon a picture of the shooter. He said, "That's him." "Are you absolutely sure?" "Yup." "Wow." "What?" "The man you just picked out, Donnie, is none other than Carmine Provenzino." "Who the hell is Carmine Provenzino?" "Carmine is the late Vinny Provenzino's oldest son and the capo of the family's Brooklyn Regime. He's the number three man in the family. You just fingered a pretty big fish Donnie." "Well, what now?" "What now is you pick him out of a lineup, we indict him for murder, and then we try him in court." "There's going to be a trial?" "That's right Donnie. And you're going to be the star witness." "Now wait a minute Lois. I didn't say anything about testifying in court. These mob guys are ruthless. They've already tried to kill me once. I'm not willing to risk it." "Listen Donnie. These guys will try to kill you no matter what. If you don't testify they'll be gunning for you anyway. They'll figure you may change your mind about testifying in the future. You're in their crosshairs no matter what you do." "So what are you saying? I'm a dead man?" "No. What I'm saying is that we'll protect you through the trial. You'll give your testimony and then we'll place you into the federal witness protection program where you'll be safe. You'll have a new identity in another state. We'll even get you a job. There are thousands of participants in this program and it works very well. They lead productive and satisfying lives." Lois Press had made a strong case and Donnie agreed to the proposition. So he identified Carmine Provenzino in a lineup and Carmine was then indicted for murder. And six months later he was convicted after a three day trial in federal court. The jury had only deliberated for two hours and it was obvious to all in attendance that the conviction was based upon Donnie Harker's compelling eyewitness testimony. It was expected that Carmine would soon be sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. Donnie was back in his bedroom at the Bridgeport safehouse two hours after the trial had ended. He looked at Lois and asked, "Okay, so this is the part where I get my new identity?" "That's right Donnie." "So then I'll be completely safe, right?" "Well, nearly completely." "Nearly completely? What the hell is that supposed to mean Lois?" "I want to be candid with you Donnie. There have been some instances where our witnesses were killed after they entered the program." "Gee Lois. That's so nice of you to let me know now. After I've testified!" "Calm down Donnie. As I've told you before these guys would be gunning for you whether or not you testified. Remember?" Donnie remembered and he calmed down a bit. "Okay Lois. Now tell me my chances," he demanded. "Chances?" "Yeah. The percentages for my survival." "Well I believe the statistics show that about 65 percent of all participants are still alive five years after they'd entered the program." "You've got to be shitting me Lois. That means that I've got a better than one in three chance of being killed in the first five years!" "Well, I guess you could put it that way Donnie," Lois said as she easily noticed the angry and bitter expression on his face. After a brief period of silence Lois said, "You know we started a pilot program eight years ago which has had better results. We call it Operation Cloak." "Exactly how much better is it?" "Well, fourteen witnesses and they're all still with us." "Okay Lois. I'm all ears." She hesitated a bit and said, "You could be a woman." "What do you mean? Disguise myself as a woman?" "Er...no Donnie. I meant you could become a woman." "I don't understand. I'm a man. How in the world can I become a woman?" "Well Donnie, there are a few surgical procedures involved. First you have some plastic surgery on your face. You know, to give you a woman's appearance. And then there are the breast implants. And then you would have final sexual reassignment surgery." "Sexual reassignment surgery?" "Yeah. Surgery to change your male genitalia into female genitalia." "That's crazy! I would never do that!" "I didn't say you had to Donnie. I'm only bringing it up as an option. You obviously have to make your own decision. But it has proved to be extremely effective. You would even be able to stay in the New York metropolitan area if you select this option. If you stay as you are, on the other hand, you could easily be recognized. You would have to settle in a different region of the country. And by the way, Donnie, if you choose to participate in Operation Cloak the government would pay for the whole thing." "Why couldn't I just have plastic surgery to alter my appearance as a man?" "We've tried that in several cases. And two of our witnesses were found and killed. Your enemies will look for that. They haven't looked for witnesses who've changed their genders, however, since they don't know about Operation Cloak. It's a top secret program." "Why couldn't I just disguise myself as a woman?" "Because to trick your enemies you have to be able to pass as a woman. And to effectively pass as a woman you'll need to have the surgical procedures I've described." "I don't know Lois. It's a drastic move. And besides I don't think I would be able to pass as a woman even if I did it." "Oh you would pass alright honey. You're not too big. What are you, 5' 6" tall? And about 135 pounds?" "No. I'm 5' 8" and 150 pounds," Donnie lied. He fully knew that Lois had been substantially correct in assessing his height and weight. "Well, why don't you think about it and let me know. Okay?" "I can tell you right now Lois. I don't think I'm interested." "Okay Donnie. Like I said the choice is yours. But give it some more thought before you reject it out of hand." And Donnie did just that and gave it some thought as he lie on the bed that night struggling to fall asleep. He kept thinking about his chances of being found and killed by his enemies. "A one-in-three chance," he'd kept thinking. He wasn't crazy about those odds. The next day he decided that he wanted to discuss the matter with his best friend Glenn Gerard. He and Glenn had known each other for over ten years. They'd met in high school and had quickly become best friends. And they'd stayed in contact with each other after they'd graduated. They got together several times a month either on Long Island where Glenn lived or in Manhattan where Donnie lived. And Glenn had visited Donnie in the hospital several times while he'd recuperated from his gunshot wound. He was a true blue friend who Donnie could trust and he wanted Glenn's honest opinion on the matter. So Donnie got Lois' permission to contact Glenn on a secure telephone line and he invited him to the Bridgeport safehouse. Two day's later... "Thanks for coming Glenn. I really appreciate it." "Hey man. What are friends for. How can I help you Donnie?" "I want to run something by you. And I want your honest opinion. Okay?" "Sure buddy." And Donnie proceeded to tell his best friend about his options. "Well, what do you think I should do?" Donnie asked and he eagerly awaits Glenn response. "Whew Donnie. You're in some pickle. You have a 35 percent chance of being found and killed if you relocate to another state?" "Yup." And if you go through with this gender change thing you wouldn't be found by these guys?" "Yeah. Or so I've been led to believe." "Well Donnie. It's a no-brainer. Have the gender change." "Yeah? Tell me Glenn, what would you do if you were in my place?" "Hey Donnie, I'm not telling you to do anything different than what I would do if I were in your shoes. I would definitely have the surgery. It's better to be a live woman than a dead man any day. No contest. I would choose life over death." *** Donnie thought about his options over and over for the next two days and ultimately, and more than a little reluctantly, he decided to have the surgery to change his gender in order to escape the retribution his enemies would plan for him. He notified Lois who'd said, "Wise choice Donnie. Don't worry about a thing. We'll make all the arrangements." "Yeah. I can't wait Lois," Donnie said and frowned. PART THREE- TRANSMUTATION Three days after Donnie advised Lois of his decision he was admitted into The Transgender Institute (a/k/a TGI) in midtown New York City under an assumed name. His assigned agent, Pamela Wilkins, ran him through all of the administrative paperwork. She also described the early medical processes he would go through during his first week there. She advised Donnie, "You're going to be seen by a number of doctors. An internist, a urologist, and several plastic surgeons. Your first appointment is at 10:00 tomorrow morning with the internist. It's sort of a general physical. And he'll start you on estrogen too." "Estrogen?" "Yeah. Female hormones. It's standard procedure for all male-to-female gender reassignments. It's necessary to foster the development of secondary female characteristics. You know, like soft skin, breast growth, redistribution of fat tissue to give your body a more feminine shape. Things like that." "Oh," Donnie said, and he tried to hide his embarrassment. "Any questions?" "None that I can think of right now." "Okay. Why don't I show you to your apartment." So Pamela took Donnie to his new quarters in the male-to-female residential ward of the facility that would be his new home for the next eight to ten weeks. Donnie scanned the apartment as he walked around. It had a large bedroom and living room, a full bathroom and a small kitchen. It wasn't much different than many other one-bedroom apartments in New York. "So how do you like it Donnie?" "It's okay I guess." "Good. I've got to go now. Oh, I almost forgot. When you shower tonight you should use that cream in the silver tube on the sink. Apply it liberally all over your body but avoid the area near your eyes and eyebrows and the hair on your head. It'll burn a little but don't rinse it off for at least 15 minutes. Okay?" "What's it for?" "It's a depilatory substance that will permanently remove all of your unwanted body hair. Even your beard. It was developed by TGI's own medical research division and it works just great. See you tomorrow." *** That night Donnie used the cream as directed. It burned just as Lois had warned but he fought the urge to rinse it off before 15 minutes had elapsed. He was astonished when he looked in the drain after he'd rinsed himself. It was absolutely covered in hair. Donnie toweled himself dry and was amazed at how smooth his hairless skin now appeared. He looked at his face in the bathroom mirror and could see no trace of his beard. He ran his hand over his face and said, "Guess I won't be shaving anytime soon." As Donnie walked to the bedroom he noticed that his hairless skin felt so different as the air whisked against his body. He opened the suitcase and unpacked the new clothes which the FBI had provided him. He then slipped into a pair of briefs, sweat socks, jeans, T-shirt and sneakers. Donnie left his quarters and walked to the cafeteria on the ground floor and got a burger, fries and coke. He used his TGI-admittance card to put the charges on the government's tab. Hunger quelled he returned to his apartment and watched television for lack of anything better to do. He ultimately fell asleep on the couch where he slept for the whole night. Donnie awoke at 8:00 the next morning and took a shower. He dressed in fresh clothes and walked to the kitchenette. Scanning the contents of the cupboard he found coffee, cookies, pretzels, sugar and some non-dairy creamer. He made coffee which he sipped on the couch in the living room. At 9:45 he heard a knock on the door. It was Pamela Wilkins who said, "Mornin' Donnie. I'm going to accompany you to your 10:00 doctor's appointment." Fifteen minutes later Donnie was sitting on the table in the examination room of the doctor's office in TGI's medical ward. A tall man in a white medical coat entered the room and said, "Hi Donnie. Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Osvuldo Bronson. Would you please disrobe?" Donnie underwent a complete physical. He gave urine and blood. And the doctor gave him his first estrogen injection. Donny winced as the needle was inserted into his hip. "Please return here at 10:00am every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for your injections Mr. Harker. And take two of these pills every day," Dr. Bronson said as he handed him the plastic bottle. "What are they doctor?" "They're just hormones Mr. Harker." A month later... Donnie sat on the couch in his quarters and watched the morning news on television as he sipped at his coffee. He thought about how he would spend the morning. "Guess I'll visit the exercise room and then hit the pool on the roof," he thought, which was not at all different than how he'd spent most of the previous mornings over the past four weeks. Donnie had settled into a routine. In addition to exercising and swimming, at Pamela's urgings he'd taken a few courses offered by TGI's continuing education department. He'd enrolled in classes covering a wide variety of home economics matters such as cooking, housekeeping, sewing and ironing. He'd felt quite silly and more than a little embarrassed about attending these classes and had voiced his initial discontent to Pamela. She'd tried to disabuse him of those notions by arguing that the sessions were worthwhile since the activities he would learn there may come in handy some day. However that only served to heighten his embarrassment by reminding him of what lie ahead. But in the end he just sucked it up and continued to attend the classes without further complaint for the primary purpose of keeping himself occupied. "There's just so much exercising and swimming I can do," he'd rationalized. And over the last month he'd had a number of visitors. He'd gone to lunch and dinner with Lois Press on a number of occasions. And with Pamela Wilkins too. Donnie was growing fond of both of these women. But more importantly his best friend Glenn had made sure to come around once or twice a week. He'd given Donnie much needed encouragement and cheered him up. He'd regularly said, "You're doing the right thing Donnie. It's the smart move. Everything will turn out fine. Just you wait and see Donnie." He didn't know what he would do without Glenn's support. Donnie walked to the kitchen and rinsed the cup. He then walked to the bathroom to wash up and felt a strange sensation on his chest. Looking at his face in the bathroom mirror he noticed that something appeared different. He studied his reflection for a few moments and then it hit him. His face looked rounder than usual. And softer too. Donnie then remembered the strange sensation he'd just felt on his chest and he lifted his T-shirt off. Looking at his chest he received a shock as he set his gaze upon his small breasts. They were barely discernible but they were there. He peered at the sprouting areoles and the slightly erect nipples. And at the small budding mounds of flesh behind them. And they were on his chest. It was if they'd appeared out of nowhere. He hadn't noticed them yesterday or even this morning when he'd dressed. But they were certainly there now. Donnie wondered what had happened but he already knew the answer. It was obvious. "Damn hormones," he said. He continued to gape at his chest. He didn't think his small new breasts were even large enough to fill a training bra but he nonetheless felt a sense of dread begin to overtake him. Donnie quickly put his T-shirt back on as if the act would make his tiny new breasts vanish. He heard a knock on his door and he answered it. It was Pamela. "Hi Donnie. How's everything?" "Hi Pamela. Okay I guess." "I've got a bit of news. You've been scheduled for your first round of surgery. Day after tomorrow." "Really?" Pamela noticed the slight tremulousness in his voice and said, "Yeah. A little facial reconstructive surgery. And the surgeon will also shave your Adam's apple and tighten your vocal chords to raise the pitch of your voice. Nothing too elaborate." "Sounds pretty elaborate to me Pamela." "It's standard procedure for male-to-female gender reassignment patients Donnie. You've got nothing to worry about. Our doctors are the cream of the crop and they've developed state-of the-art techniques. Everything will be fine. You'll see." Despite Pamela's assurances Donnie worried. He couldn't take his mind off his impending surgery. And the night before the big day he'd hardly slept at all. As Donnie lie on the operating table the next morning he felt the drowsiness slowly overtake him as the anesthesia took effect. His final thought was, "Just my dumb luck." Three days later... Donnie slowly stirred around and opened his eyes. "What...Where am..." He noticed that his voice sounded funny and he abruptly silenced himself. "Everything is fine Donnie. You're in your bed in your apartment. The surgery went just fine. You've been sedated for a few days to allow your vocal chords to heal without straining them. The doctor removed all the bandages about an hour ago. You look real nice. Have a look for yourself," and she gave him the hand mirror. He gazed at his reflection and winced. He regained his composure and he studied his changed facial features in the small mirror. He gazed at his small ski-sloped nose and his raised cheekbones. And he viewed his puffy lips and his pointed chin that gave his face an oval shape. "I look so different," he impulsively announced and flinched at the sound of his high-pitched voice. "And I sound different too," he added. "All part of the master plan, Donnie. And you'll look even nicer when the residual bruising and swelling dissipate over the next two weeks." "I can't wait," Donnie sarcastically said and frowned. Three weeks later... Donnie sat at the vanity in his bedroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The bruising and swelling had all but disappeared. "I can't believe it. I'm actually beginning to look like a girl," he said and he felt his face redden. He studied his soft oval face. He saw that his dark blond hair, which had by now grown to the point where it fell to the middle of his neck, nicely framed his countenance and lent an additional air of femininity. Donnie then gazed at his puffy lips. Before the surgery his lips had been thin. But not anymore. He wondered how they'd done it. "Incredible," he softly said. Donnie shook his head in denial and felt his breasts jiggle. That made him think about how his breasts had continued to grow over the past few weeks and he stood up and removed his shirt. Looking down he saw how much larger they'd become since he first noticed their appearance a month or so ago. He lifted his hands and he cupped them from underneath and felt their weight. He figured they had to be at least an A-cup. "I'm going to have to wear a bra soon. If I don't need one already," he thought and immediately blushed. Donnie removed his pants and noticed the other changes in his body. His waistline had tapered to the point where he needed to wear a belt to prevent his pants from slipping off his midriff. And his hips had sprouted to the extent that he could barely slip his pants over them. The seats of all his jeans had become tight and uncomfortable. He wondered how long he would be able to wear his current wardrobe. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 10:00am. He had an 11:00 brunch date with Pamela so he needed to get ready. Donnie took a relaxing warm shower and tried to ignore the pleasant sensation of the spray as it made contact with his breasts. Toweling himself dry he realized that he had to be careful not to rub his chest too hard to avoid irritating himself. He saw the scale on the bathroom floor and stepped onto it. It showed that he weighed 125 pounds. He'd somehow lost 10 pounds since his arrival here. He dressed in a baggy polo shirt, jeans and sneakers and headed out to TGI's Underground Level 1 to meet Pamela for brunch. When Donnie arrived at the restaurant he found Pamela seated at a table sipping a bloody Mary. "Hi Pamela. Am I late?" "Hi Donnie. No, I got here a little early." Donnie sat down across from Pamela and noticed the bloody Mary before him on the table. Pamela said, "I took the liberty of ordering you that Donnie. Have a sip. It's scrumptious." Donnie sipped the drink. It was very good. Nice and spicy just the way it should be. The waiter arrived at their table and said, "Good morning ladies. May I take your orders?" It didn't escape Pamela's attention that Donnie's face reddened a bit. She said, "The poached eggs are excellent here Donnie. The combo with the Canadian bacon, home fries and whole wheat toast is a good choice." "Okay. You've sold me." The waiter collected their menus and he said, "Thank you ladies," and left. "Is it that obvious Pamela? Do I really look like a girl?" "Well Donnie, I guess you do. After all the whole purpose of the surgery you had a few weeks ago was to give you feminine facial features. And you have a soft and smooth complexion. Your hair is growing out too. I'm afraid that you do look a little like a girl. From the neck up anyway." "Not just from the neck up," Donnie thought as he reflected on his budding breasts. Pamela said, "I'm glad you brought this subject up Donnie. I'd like to discuss your schedule." "My schedule?" "Yeah. To complete your transition. I figure we'll be done with you in about five weeks. Next week you'll have the breast augmentation procedure and the week after that we'll do the sexual reassignment surgery. There's a two to three week post-operative recovery period and then you'll be discharged. Okay?" Donnie was suffering from information overload and could not respond. "Donnie?" He mustered up his will and managed, "Breast augmentation? Next week?" "Yeah. It's a relatively simple procedure. Silicon implants." "But Pamela, I don't think I need that. I, er...already have, you know...breasts." Pamela looked at his reddened face. She was amused. She said, "I know you do sweetie. But they can't be more than an A-cup. There's just so much the hormones can do. You need to have this procedure. With your frame you should be a B-cup." "Oh." The waiter arrived with their orders and he placed them on the table and said, "Enjoy ladies." Donnie blushed yet again. A week later... Donnie stood before the bathroom mirror and gazed at his breasts. The large ones with the B-cups thanks to yesterday's surgery. He cupped them from underneath and felt their weight. They were substantial. Donnie softly rubbed them with his hands. It felt quite good. He made himself stop. "Unreal," he murmured. Donnie pulled himself away from the mirror and walked to the dresser. He felt his breasts swing and sway as he crossed the room. He opened the dresser drawer and removed one of the brassieres that Pamela had gotten him. Following her instructions of yesterday he slipped it on and secured the back clasp. Donnie recalled yesterday's events and frowned. When he'd returned to his quarters after the breast augmentation procedure he'd found that all of his clothes had been removed and replaced with a new wardrobe. A girl's wardrobe. "Where are my clothes Pamela?" he'd asked. "These are your clothes now Donnie," she'd replied. He'd slowly inspected the new contents of his bedroom and saw the dresses, skirts and blouses hanging in the closet. And on the closet's floor he saw his new shoes. The ones with heels ranging in heights from two to four inches. And he'd examined the previously bare vanity and saw that it was now covered with cosmetics. He'd looked at all the makeup and nail polish. He'd seen all the brushes and combs. And he'd viewed the jewelry box containing the earrings, necklaces and bracelets. "I don't know if I can do this Pamela. It's all happening so fast," he'd said. "Now listen Donnie. You've got to start acclimating. Your transition is proceeding on schedule. You now have to look the part. I know why you're going through this process. It's for your own safety," she'd told him. "You know?" he'd asked. "Yes. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I'm the only employee at TGI who's aware of your situation. If you stick with the plan you'll likely escape detection. Please don't forget that. Your very life is on the line Donnie." He pulled himself back to the present and reflected on what Pamela had said. She was of course right. No matter how distasteful, awkward and embarrassing it was for him to go through this process he knew that it gave him his best chance for survival. "I'll somehow get through this," he told himself. Donnie opened another dresser drawer and he removed a pair of white cotton panties and slipped them on. He noticed how they hugged his rounded hips. He then retrieved and opened a package of nude pantyhose. Following Pamela's instructions of yesterday he carefully rolled them up his smooth legs and around his thinning waist. It was the first time he wore nylons and he studied his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed. They actually looked quite shapely. He wondered whether the effect resulted from the hormones or the nylons and he ultimately decided that it was probably a combination of both of them. He arose and walked to the vanity. He noticed the very pleasant sensation produced when his legs brushed against each other as he ambulated and he tried ignore it without success. He sighed in frustration. Donnie sat at the vanity and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. "No doubt about it. I look like a girl. I don't think I could pass as a man now if my life depended on it," he softly said as his face reddened in embarrassment. Donnie then forced his will upon himself and said, "I've got to stop being embarrassed about all of this. The fact of the matter is that my life depends on not passing as a man. That's why I'm putting myself through this torture, idiot!" He was starting to get a headache from all of the obsessing so he wiped his mind clean. He also had more imminent things to think about since Glenn was due here in three hours. He hadn't seen Glenn for over a month because he'd been out of town on a long business trip. Donnie studied his changed face and wondered how his best friend would react to his altered appearance. The last time he'd seen Glenn was before any of his surgical procedures. "And then I certainly didn't look like I do now," Donnie emphatically stated. He looked down at the vanity and saw all of the cosmetics. Pamela had urged him to try the makeup. She'd also encouraged him to let his nails grow and to shape them in a feminine form. Donnie thought about it and said, "I just can't do it. It's too much too fast. How much of this can I do at one time?" And in the back of his mind he worried that Glenn might laugh at him if he saw him wearing makeup. Donnie felt frustrated and confused. He shook his head as if to expel the emotions and he then picked up the brush and ran it through his hair. As he watched himself in the mirror he noticed that his wavy dark blond hair had grown to just about an inch above his shoulders. Donnie finished brushing his hair and intently gazed at himself in the mirror. "My God, I almost look pretty," he blurted out on impulse. He wondered whether a little makeup might improve his appearance and he instinctively reached for the tube of pink lipstick. Out of intense curiosity he applied a light coat to his lips and reflexively said, "That does make me look better." He looked down at the vanity and considered using some of the other cosmetics when he realized what he was doing. He abruptly arose and walked to the bed and sat on its edge. He thought, "Man, I was getting carried away there. I wasn't even thinking. It was like my subconscious had taken over." After a few moments Donnie got up and he walked to the closet and scanned its contents. He was hoping to find an outfit with pants but he could see nothing but dresses, skirts and blouses. He knew he had to choose something but he could not decide what to select. And he knew that he couldn't decide on a selection because he was just too embarrassed about wearing anything in the closet. "Would you get over it already!" he admonished himself. "Stop doing this to yourself! You've just got to move on and accept it!" He shook his head clear and examined his wardrobe again. He finally reached into the closet and came away with a simple sleeveless pale yellow cotton dress with a high neckline. On closer examination he thought that it looked too small and he wondered whether it would fit. But when he removed it from the hanger and slipped it on over his head he saw that it fit just fine, although raising the rear zipper had been a bit of a chore. Donnie walked over to the full-length mirror in the living room and gasped when he saw his reflection. The dress accentuated all of his new curves at the bust, waist and hips. And to his shock he saw that its hemline ended a half-inch above his knees showcasing a lot of his legs. He gazed in awe at the shapely girl. The girl who was him. Donnie shook his head in disbelief but he was fully aware that he was staring at his own reflection. He realized that he wasn't wearing shoes so he walked back to the closet and surveyed it floor. He saw only one pair of yellow shoes and he reached down for them. Examining them in his hands he saw that they were leather pumps with 3" heels. "Oh shit," he murmured. Donnie looked at the selection once again only to verify the absence of any other matching shoes. He considered changing into another dress so he could wear lower heels but decided that he just didn't have the stomach to endure another round of dress-selection torment. So he placed the yellow heels on the floor and he carefully stepped into them. Donnie found walking in the high-heels difficult at first and he nearly fell when he'd taken his first few steps. But after practicing for 20 minutes or so he became reasonably proficient. "Like most other things practice makes perfect," he thought. He looked at the wall clock and saw that it was 6:30. Glenn was due in a half-hour. Donnie wondered where the time had gone. He walked back to the vanity and he sat down and looked in the mirror. He saw that the lipstick he'd previously applied had faded a bit. He reached for the tube and ran it over his lips once again. As Donnie set the lipstick down on the vanity he gazed at his hands. They looked soft and delicate, no doubt from the hormones. He then inspected his nails. He hadn't clipped them for the past two weeks and there had been a bit of growth over the period. Not too much but something. He picked up an emery board and rounded off the tips. Donnie walked to the living room and he sat down on the couch and turned the television on. He watched the remnants of the national news and exactly at 7:00 he heard the knock on the door. Donnie opened the door and looked up at Glenn who said, "Oh, hi. I'm looking for Donnie Harker. Do I have the right room?" "Hi Glenn. It's me. Donnie." Glenn looked perplexed for a few seconds and then the realization kicked in. "Holy smoke! Is it really you Donnie?" "Yes Glenn. It's really me. Why don't you come in." Glenn entered the apartment and said, "I can't believe how you look Donnie. You look so different. Like a..." "Girl?" "Well, yeah. I guess you do." "Well wasn't that the whole point Glenn?" "Yeah. Listen Donnie, I'm sorry if I overreacted." "Not a big deal Glenn. I guess I overreacted myself a few times when I first saw some of the changes," Donnie nervously said. They went into the living room and sat on opposite ends of the couch. "Well, uh...how've you been Donnie?" "I don't know. As well as could be expected I guess." "Yeah. I know what you mean. This must be pretty tough on you." "You can say that again. It sure hasn't been easy, that's for sure." "Well, if it means anything I want you to know that I'll do anything to help. Anything at all. All you have to do is ask. Okay?" "Yeah. Thanks Glenn. It means a lot to me." After an awkward moment of silence Donnie asked, "Are you hungry?" "As a matter of fact I haven't eaten all day. I'm famished." "Pamela told me about this nice Italian restaurant by the name of Emelio's in one of the Underground levels. What do you say?" "Sounds fine. Who's Pamela?" "Oh, she's the agent the facility assigned to me. She's been helping me along with my, you know, transition. She's been really great." "Well if she's a friend of yours then she's a friend of mine." That remark made Donnie smile. He thought that Glenn was such a good friend. He was so glad that Glenn had come to visit him tonight. They left the apartment and made their way to the elevator banks where they took an elevator down to Underground Level 1. They leisurely strolled the pedestrian emporium and took in all the sights and shops until they reached Emilio's fifteen minutes later. The hostess showed them to a table and left them with menus which they both perused. Glenn put his menu down on the table and shortly thereafter Donnie followed suit. Donnie glanced at Glenn and noticed that he was looking at him. He asked, "What?" "What do you mean?" "You were staring." "Oh. I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I don't know..." "What Glenn?" "Well, I don't want to embarrass you. Or me for that matter." "It's alright, just tell me Glenn." "Well, I just can't get over how you look Donnie." "I hope you mean that in a good sense." "Oh I do! What I mean is that you look very nice, you know, like, er...pretty." Donnie's face immediately reddened and Glenn said, "See, now I've gone and embarrassed you. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut." "No, no. It's alright Glenn. It's just that I'm still trying to adjust to everything. It's all moving so fast that sometimes I get the feeling I'm no longer in control of my own life. Thanks for the compliment Glenn." "You're welcome." The waitress came to their table and they placed their orders. Donnie went with the veal parmesan and Glenn ordered lasagna. As they munched on buttered bread Glenn hesitantly asked, "I hope I'm not out of line, Donnie, but how in the world did they do it?" "You mean how did they make me look like this?" "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." "No, its alright. I just wasn't sure what you meant. You really want to know?" "I have to admit I'm more than a little curious Donnie." "Well, the first thing they did was to place me on female hormones. Some kind of accelerated estrogen they said. And they had me use some type of advanced depilatory cream to permanently remove my body hair. I then had facial reconstructive surgery that made my face look, you know, feminine. And then I had a breast augmentation procedure. You know, implants. That's pretty much the whole story." "And your voice?" "Oh yeah. I forgot. It was some type of surgical procedure on my vocal chords. And they shaved my Adam's apple off too." "And, you know, how about down there?" Glenn sheepishly asked. Donnie noticed Glenn's gaze turn slightly downward and asked, "You mean my penis and balls?" Now it was Glenn's turn to blush and Donnie felt a little guilty for having caused it. "I shouldn't have asked Donnie. It's personal." "It's okay Glenn. Actually I'm having the genitalia surgery next week. And I have to confess that I'm a little nervous about it. It's a major operation. They told me it could last from four to seven hours." "When is it Donnie? I want to be here." "It's scheduled for next Thursday at 10:00am. That's okay Glenn, you don't have to be here." "You're my best friend Donnie. There's no way I'm not here. End of story." Donnie was so touched that he felt his eyes become a little moist. He softly smiled and said, "Thanks Glenn. I appreciate it. I really do. I couldn't ask for a better friend." The waiter delivered their orders and they indulged. They both proclaimed their meals delicious. As they enjoyed their fare Donnie asked, "So how about you Glenn? What have you been up to? You still seeing that girl, what's her name, Sherry?" "Cheryl. Nah, she dumped me last month." "What happened?" "She kept bitching about my so-called unwillingness to make a commitment. I guess she was looking for something more permanent than what I wanted." What Glenn had just said made Donnie think about his best friend's history with the fairer sex. He was a tall good-looking guy who never had any difficulty getting girls. Where the difficulty lie for him was in keeping the girls. Whether it was from his reluctance to commit, his failure to meet someone he really liked, or just plain boredom Glenn had been unable to sustain an enduring relationship with a girl for as long as Donnie had known him. Donnie then thought about how his own experiences with girls had been so dissimilar to Glenn's. Donnie's problem related not to keeping the girls but to getting them in the first place. He'd always had a hard time finding dates. He secretly blamed his slight physical stature for his lack of success with women. It seemed they all wanted tall, dark and handsome guys and Donnie couldn't deliver on the tall part. Glenn noticed the abstract look on Donnie's face and asked, "A penny for your thoughts buddy?" Donnie looked at his best friend and smiled. He said, "I was just thinking that this wasn't the first time a girl left you because you wouldn't commit, that's all." "You got that right. I guess I'm just not ready to settle down." They finished their entrees and had coffee and cheesecake for dessert. Glenn insisted on paying and he settled the bill and they left the restaurant. Walking along the emporium back to the elevator banks Glenn excitedly said, "Hey, I almost forgot to tell you Donnie! The police department finally accepted my application. I'm going to be a cop. Next month I report to the Nassau County Police Academy for a six-week training course." "That's great Glenn! Congratulations! I know how much you've wanted this." Donnie was happy for his buddy. For as long as he'd known him Glenn had always wanted to be a cop. Glenn was good at his work as a trouble-shooter for an electronics firm but it wasn't what he really wanted to do. They arrived at the elevators and took one up. Glenn said, "I've got a long drive in front of me so I guess I'll get going Donnie." The elevator stopped on the ground level and Glenn said, "It was good seeing you again Donnie. I had a great time. I'll see you next Thursday. Bye." "It was good to see you too Glenn. Thanks for coming," and Donnie watched from the elevator as his buddy walked out and vanished into the distance. *** The next week went very slowly for Donnie. He wanted it to speed up so he could just have the damn surgery and get it over with already. But time crawled. And to make matters worse he was getting more and more nervous with each passing day. Thursday finally arrived and when Donnie awoke at 7:00am he showered and, in accordance with his doctor's instructions, he had a small glass of orange juice and nothing else. At 8:00 Glenn arrived and a half-hour later Pamela made her entrance. They could both see that Donnie was nervous as he introduced them to each other. They tried to relax him. "These surgeons are the best in the world at what they do Donnie. You have nothing to worry about," Pamela assured him. "Everything's going to be fine buddy," Glenn said in an attempt to comfort him. They both accompanied him to pre-op at 9:00 and left him in the doctors' hands. And a little after 10:00 the surgery began. *** Glenn sat at a table in the facility's cafeteria and sipped coffee from the Styrofoam cup. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 1:00. Donnie had been in surgery for three hours and Glenn wondered how everything was going. Pamela walked into the cafeteria and bought a salad and diet coke. She looked for somewhere to sit and noticed Glenn. She walked over to his table and said, "Hi Glenn. Mind if I join you?" "Hi Pamela. Please. I would love the company." She sat down and said, "I just checked in with the head of the surgery department for an update on Donnie. He said everything is going as well as can be expected." "Yeah?" "That's right. Which means he doesn't have too much longer to go. Probably just an hour or two more." "That's great news Pamela." Glenn watched as Pamela took a few bites of her salad and he asked, "Tell me something. What exactly are they doing to Donnie?" "You mean the details of his sexual reassignment surgery?" "Yeah." "Well, he's getting exactly what the government paid for Glenn. His penis and testicles are being resected and residual tissue is then being used to surgically construct a vagina and vulva. It's pretty standard stuff." "And Donnie will be considered female then?" "Yes. He will have the same equipment as any other girl with the exception of internal reproductive organs." "Will he be able to, you know...?" "Have sex?" "Yeah." "Absolutely. A surgically reassigned male-to-female patient possesses all the right parts to have complete sexual relations with a man. She can fulfill a man's sexual needs as well as a congenital female. And she can climax too." "Thanks for the info Pamela." "Sure. How long do you plan on staying?" "I don't know. I wanted to at least see him pull through the operation and talk to him." "That may be a little difficult to do today. He's going to be heavily sedated in the intensive care ward through tonight. It's precautionary." "When can he receive visitors?" "If he's okay when the doctors examine him tomorrow morning they'll move him to a private room and wean him from sedation. You can see him then." "I think I'll stay the night then." "Do you have somewhere to stay?" "I'll get a hotel room." "Why don't you use Donnie's room. He won't be using it for a couple of days." "That would be great." Pamela looked at her watch and said, "I've got to run. I have a 1:30 appointment. Stop by my office at around 4:00 and I'll give you Donnie's room key. I'm Room 125." "Thanks Pamela." *** That night Glenn stayed in Donnie's TGI apartment as planned. He had a sound sleep and awoke at 9:30 Friday morning. He showered and made his way to the facility's surgical wing where he was told that Donnie had been moved into a private room in the post-surgical recovery ward a half-hour ago. "That's a good sign," he thought as he walked to the recovery ward. Glenn opened the door to Donnie's room and saw him resting peacefully on the bed. There were a number of tubes in his arm which were attached to plastic bags on a nearby metal pole-stand. Glenn walked over to the bed and gazed down at Donnie. He looked pale. "Donnie?" "Glenn? Is it you?" Donnie asked in a low whisper. "Yeah. How are you feeling buddy?" "Like I was hit by a truck." "The doctors said you did just fine Donnie." "Yeah? That's nice." A man in a white medical coat walked into the room. He wore an identification badge that proclaimed he was Dr. Willis Scott. He looked at Glenn and asked, "And you would be...?" "I'm Glenn Gerard, a friend. How is he doing doctor?" "Just fine Mr. Gerard. I'm afraid you're going to have to leave. I have to examine her and change her packing." *** Donnie's convalescence proceeded nicely over the next two weeks. He'd been discharged back to his room in the residential ward four days after his surgery and just yesterday the last of his stitches had been removed. He was still a little stiff and sore down there and there remained a bit of residual swelling but Dr. Scott had assured him that his symptoms would dissipate and vanish over the next week or two. He'd had several visitors since he'd returned to his apartment too. Glenn had visited him twice and they'd chatted at length. And Pamela checked in on him every other day to monitor his recovery. And three days ago Lois Press had paid him a visit for the first time in a long time. She'd complimented him on his appearance and wished him well. She'd also asked, "When are they going to discharge you Donnie?" "They told me this morning that I should be ready to leave in about a week." "Well, I want you to know that we're very grateful for what you've done. We'll set you up with an apartment and a job right here in Manhattan if that's your preference. Have you thought about what type of job you would like to have?" "Not really Lois." Well, why don't you give it some thought. We'll do our very best to find you the job you want." "Thanks." "I'd like to take your picture before I leave Donnie." "What for?" "We're assembling a new set of identification papers for you and some of them require a picture. Do you want to freshen yourself up a bit? You know, maybe put on a little makeup?" Donnie had felt himself blush and he'd initially said, "Not really." But on second thought he'd figured that he should look presentable so he'd brushed his hair and applied a light coat of pink lipstick. Donnie pulled himself back to the present and he retrieved an emery board from the vanity top and began to file his nails. They'd grown enough over the past few weeks so that he could now shape them into soft oval points. Pamela had continually encouraged him to grow and style his nails and he begrudgingly obliged if only to shut her up. Finished filing he held his hands out before him and examined them. He noticed that they looked soft and delicate. And his fingers looked so slender. They also looked strange with the shaped nails. Strangely feminine. Donnie arose and walked to the bed. He slipped out of the pink silk bathrobe and tossed it onto the bed leaving himself naked. He walked to the full-length mirror and felt the tug and sway of his breasts as he took each step. He wondered whether he would ever get accustomed to the foreign sensation. Gazing at his full-body reflection he felt a sense of shock and awe. It was as if he were looking at someone else. Someone who was an attractive female. But he knew that he was now the female whose reflection he viewed. "Unbelievable," he whispered. Donnie could hardly believe that so much had happened to him in such a short period of time. Just three months ago he was a happy-go-lucky photographer on a major newspaper living the good life of a young bachelor in Manhattan. "And now this," he muttered as he looked at himself in stark amazement. Donnie gazed at his smooth and pretty oval face framed by the long and wavy dark blond hair. His nose looked so small and his lips were so puffy that he had to stare hard at himself to see even a small vestige of his prior semblance. He looked down at his breasts and again said, "Unbelievable." He felt as if he were in a trance as he considered that he actually now had large breasts dangling from his own chest. Donnie slowly turned his gaze downward and witnessed his narrowed waistline and broadened hips. "I actually have curves now," he impulsively said and he felt his face flush. He then lowered his head a bit more and beheld his new essence. Just looking at himself down there made his head swim and he had to steady himself to avoid falling. As he looked at his new vagina and vulva he felt as if he were in a bad dream. Or to be more precise a terrible nightmare. But Donnie knew that it was no dream. It was all real. And it had happened to him. He felt the need to urinate so he pulled himself away from the mirror and walked to the bathroom. Again he wondered whether he would ever get used to the sensation of bouncing breasts as he moved about. Donnie felt silly as he sat on the toilet just to pee. "I better get used to it," he thought in resignation. He watched in amazement as the urine shot down from the small hole where his penis had formerly sprouted. He thought about how unusual it felt to be without a penis and testicles between his legs. "I've got a hole down there now," he said and immediately blushed. The urine stream slowed and dribbled to a halt. Donnie tore a piece of tissue off the roll and wiped himself clean. He shook his head in scorn as he thought, "I have to use toilet paper even when I pee now." Donnie flushed the toilet and stood up and he immediately saw the dilator on the sink top. He recalled that Dr. Scott had told him to dilate himself twice a day until further notice and he'd only done it once today. So he grasped the dilator and walked to the bedroom where he lay down on the bed. Donnie gently inserted the dilator into himself and slowly thrust it back and forth. It felt very good. He grasped his left nipple between thumb and forefinger of his free hand and gently rubbed it. He experienced more simultaneous erotic sensations than he thought possible and his body began to stutter in response to the stimuli. A hot ball of energy developed and grew between his legs and it finally burst as the heat traveled throughout his entire body which tingled in sensuous delight. He rested on the bed breathing heavily and thought, "Well, there's no doubt about my ability to come." That thought severely embarrassed him and he abruptly arose and walked to the bathroom where he rinsed off the dilator in the sink. He then stepped into the tub and took a relaxing warm shower. Donnie toweled himself off and stepped into a pair of white cotton panties. He observed how they hugged his rounded hips. And he also noticed the absence of a front bulge thanks to his most recent surgery. He then selected a matching brassiere and slipped into it. He struggled a bit with the back clasp owing to his long nails. But he was thankful that the bra secured his breasts in place to a large extent and stopped them from bouncing around. However he noticed that he could still feel them softly jiggle and rub against the interior of the bra when he moved. The rubbing sensation felt nice but he tried to ignore it. It wasn't easy. Donnie walked to the vanity and he sat down and looked at the stranger who stared back at him. The female stranger. "Unbelievable," he said yet again. He picked up the brush and pulled it through his long and wavy hair until he was satisfied with its look. As he placed the brush on the vanity he heard the knock on his door. He wondered who it was. He was expecting Glenn who'd called him this morning and asked if he could come around to "hang out," but he wasn't due for another two hours. Donnie slipped into his pink silk bathrobe and he opened the door and looked at Pamela Wilkins. "Hi Pamela. What brings you around?" he asked. "Hi Donnie. I just figured I would stop by to see how you were doing. And I wanted to give you this. It's a purse." She handed Donnie the expensive-looking black leather purse which he examined. He looked at Pamela and said, "A purse?" "Yes Donnie, a purse. You know, to carry your stuff around in. I think you'll find that it comes in handy since your new clothes don't have any pockets." "Oh. Well, er...thanks Pamela." "You're welcome. So what are you up to this Saturday night?" "I, uh...Glenn's coming here to, you know, hang out with me. We'll probably just grab a bite at Emilio's or something." "Ah, Glenn. He's a handsome guy if I do say so myself," Pamela said and she lasciviously winked at Donnie. Donnie's face reddened and he said, "He's just a friend Pamela. That's all he is." "Okay, okay, I didn't mean anything by it. Don't get your panties in an uproar." As much as he tried to avoid it Donnie smiled at that remark which acted to break the tension. Pamela studied his face and said, "Here, come with me." And she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bedroom vanity where she told him, "Sit down. Let's get some makeup on you." "Uh, I don't think so Pamela. I'm okay like this." "Nonsense. I've seen you wear lipstick before Donnie. Let's go the whole route. You want to look nice, don't you?" "Well, I guess so. But..." "No buts about it Donnie." She wouldn't take no for an answer and before Donnie knew what had hit him she was working on his face. She applied foundation and eye makeup. She plucked some hair from his eyebrows and ran the pencil over them. And then she coated his lips with pink lipstick. Donnie looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't believe his eyes. He'd looked attractive before but now he actually looked pretty. As he continued to study his face in astonishment Pamela sprayed his earlobes with a small aerosol tube. He felt his lobes become cold and numb. "What the hell are you doing Pamela?" "Time to pierce your ears Donnie." "Now wait a minute..." Pamela grabbed Donnie's head with one hand to hold him still and pierced his right earlobe with the small tool. Before he could stop her she pierced the other one too. "Now let's get some earrings on you to keep the holes open," and she placed the small gold-hooped earrings into the new holes. She wiped the small traces of blood off his ears and proclaimed, "That's that." Donnie's head was swimming. Pamela was manhandling him as if he were a puppet on a string. "Now let's take a look at your hands," and she grasped Donnie's hands in hers. "Ah, I see you've let you nails grow. And you've shaped them nicely too," she said and noticed Donnie's reddened face. "Let's put on some nail polish." "Er...I don't think so Pamela. They look, you know, fine just the way they are." "But they'll look even better polished Donnie. You'll see. If you don't like the polish we'll just take it off, okay?" It really wasn't a question and Pamela busily got to work on Donnie's nails. She applied two coats of pink polish and then a clear topcoat. "There. We're done. You know Donnie, your hands are so pretty. They're one of your best features. Just keep still for about ten minutes to let the polish dry. I'm going to the bathroom to wash up." As Pamela washed Donnie extended his arms and gaped at his hands in fascination. "I can't believe they're my hands. The look so soft and delicate. And the long pink nails..." he softly announced. As hard as he tried he could just not pull his eyes away from his hands. "