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If the Crossdress fits... I didn't know what to expect when Maxine opened the door to her loft. I hadn't really thought about it, but there she was, holding it open for me. Her place looked like the hideout of a very stylish, sophisticated thief, who had just robbed a Sanrio store. That is to say all the furniture was sleek and minimalistic, classy even, but it was piled high with cute Japanese toys. A large window overlooking the arts district dominated the loft's main room. I quickly headed for the chair nearest the door, and as I sat down I felt a dull pain where its wooden frame pressed into what was left of my butt. Maxine stepped out to get my bag which now contained everything I owned: 3 pairs of sweat pants, 4 t-shirts, and 4 pairs of non-skid hospital socks. But she quickly put it down when she got back inside. "God John, you look uncomfortable," she said in a concerned voice. "Wouldn't you rather lie down on the couch?" I sighed and started propping myself back up, then carefully shifted my weight to my feet , shrugged off Max's help, and made my way over to the couch. I laid there, just resting my eyes for a second, and when I opened them again the whole room had gotten dark, Max was in the corner chair playing a game on her iPad. "Good evening Mr. Sleepy, did you have a nice nap?" I looked around, only just aware I had fallen asleep. "Yeah, actually I do feel a lot better," I said stretching my arms out. "See, just like the doctor said, you'll be your old self again in no time. You know you had me pretty worried there for a while." "You and me both. Hey, thanks for letting me stay here. You didn't have to do that." She smiled back at me as though to say yes I did, and said, "Why don't you hop in the shower, I'm going to order us a pizza, my treat." "Thanks, I haven't got any money." "I know, I know. Things can look pretty dire, trust me. But you're almost through this, no need to rush and no worries. You don't need to keep thanking me. You'll be alright in no time, once you're back on your feet, then you can say thank you." "Okay, well-" She cut me off. "Don't say thank you." She made a face like she might smack me if I did, but it was a cute face. "Fine. Just-" She made her "don't say thank you" face again, this time without uttering a word. I bit my lips and made my way to the shower. Max popped in and out of the bathroom once while I was in there. I wasn't sure why until I got out and found all my clothes missing. I wrapped a towel around my privates and passed the running washing machine on my way back to the main room. She looked at me and then at the washer. "Oops!" she exclaimed. "Oops??" I asked. "Oops," she confessed. I stood there for a while looking at her until it occurred to her that the problem wasn't going to fix itself. "Umm... why don't you go back in there and shave." she was stalling. "And uhh... when you get done, I'll have something figured out." I stared at her coldly. She rolled her eyes at me. "Oh come on, your three month hospital beard looks pretty scraggly anyway. Best put it out of its misery." "Fine," I huffed, though not really mad at her, and went back to the bathroom. "New razors are in the top drawer," she called out after me. And they were. They were also pink, the kind of razors girls use on their legs. But once I got over that, one worked just as well on my face as the newest, manliest 12 bladed razor named after an air-to-air missile that money could buy. Max had been correct, my beard was patchy and pathetic. I'd never tried to grow one before my stay in the hospital, and now I was glad to be rid of it. It made me feel almost human again. When I stepped back out of the bathroom, Max was dressed in a pink baby doll nightie, her bare legs sticking out the bottom. My eyes followed them all the way down to her pink toes. She turned around just as I was picking my jaw off the floor, and exclaimed in as unsure a voice as anyone can exclaim in, "Pajama Party!?" Before she trotted over and handed me some pajamas. As I unfolded the faded pink Hello Kitty t-shirt and matching pajama pants, she could see how uncertain I was about the whole affair. I mulled it over in my head for a little while. If I could get through all those humiliating moments in the hospital, I could get through wearing a pink shirt while my clothes were in the wash. And seeing Max dressed that way, that wouldn't hurt either. "See John, and before you say anything I put on the girliest thing I own in an effort to make those Hello Kitty pajamas, the only thing I own that might fit you, seem more manly." It was only as she said this half-heartedly, and I could see her looking over my body, that I realized just how skinny I'd become. I smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and concurred, "Pajama Party." Before stepping back in the bathroom and pulling the Pink Hello Kitty pajamas over my body, until I was completely engulfed in cute Japanese commercialism. The pajamas, if anything, were too loose everywhere except in the shoulders, which fit just a touch too snug. Three months in the hospital will do that, I sighed and stepped back into the living room. Max assigned me the task of finding something to watch on TV, which wasn't too easy because she had all the channels, and all the internet services as well. I had just typed "Sci-fi comedy" into the search box, when the doorbell rang. Max made her annoyed face, "I forgot about the pizza guy." Looking down over her own body, just then realizing how promiscuously she was dressed. "I don't suppose I could get you too..." she looked over my pink hello kitty clad body and said, "Oh nevermind." The pizza delivery boy was a pimply faced sixteen year old boy, who stood about 2 inches shorter than Max's 5' 9" frame. I heard him take a step back when Max opened the door in her nightie, and she responded with a case of the giggles. The boy was obviously intimidated, and Max found that hilarious. Once they had completed their transaction and the boy turned to leave, I remember him saying very distinctly, "You girls have a nice night!" Max slammed the door behind him and turned back at me, letting out a giggle fit. "Ha ha! He thought you were a girl!" she said in a playful mocking tone. "Yeah you noticed that too, did you?" "Oh come on, what's wrong with that?" "As if I couldn't feel any lower, I mean look how skinny I am." I held one of my biceps between my thumb and forefinger to illustrate. "So, eat some pizza," she said handing me a slice. "Besides it's better to be a man that looks like a woman, than a woman that looks like a man." "How do you figure that?" "Well, we are the fairer sex aren't we? Only an unusually pretty man can look like a woman, whereas, it takes an ugly woman to look like a man." "So you're saying I'm a pretty man?" "Well, yeah you are aren't you?" "I'd rather be handsome." "Pretty is better than ugly isn't it?" "True, just I'm not feeling really good about my body right now. I'm like a ninety-eight pound weakling." Max sighed, "Well at the risk of making you feel worse, I kind of think you've got the waify body of a supermodel right now- You're not really ninety eight pounds are you?" "No, but I'm not much better than that. I'm down to one eighteen... with clothes on." "Look, don't worry about it. You'll be back to normal before you know it." "Wait a minute... Did you mean a boy supermodel or a girl supermodel." "Well, there are a few boy models that model women's clothes." "Great, just great." "Plus with three months' worth of growth to your hair, you know you do look kind'a cute. If you'd smile once in a while." I nervously starting twirling my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, It needs to be cut doesn't it?" "John, that's not my point. My point is that if being sick and going to the hospital, makes you look a little girlie for a while, who cares? I mean it's a temporary thing right?" "Are you saying I should start wearing dresses?" "I'm just saying if I had to look like an attractive man for a little while, I'd try to make the most of it. Hell it might even be fun." "You really think I look like an attractive woman?" "Well, I think you would. Half of it's makeup anyway," she started smirking. "And yeah your body would look killer in my silver dress." "Stop making fun of me. I would not look good in your dress." "It's not you it's the situation. And yes you would." I looked her square in the eyes. "No, I wouldn't." She arched one eyebrow. "Yes you would. That sounds like a challenge." "Not gonna happen." "It has to now. We've built it up too much," she said heading for her bedroom. "Oh no it-" I was cut off, when she flung the silver dress in my lap. "Oh no no no." She teased, "Don't be such a baby. It's manlier than pink hello kitty pajamas. Just think of it as a really long shirt." "Alright fine, just to see how it looks." She nodded. I struggled getting the t-shirt off at first, then Max lost her patience and helped pull it off of me. I was going to leave the pants on, but when I stood up Max pulled them off my waist and let them fall to my ankles. And for the first time in three months, with me standing there in my shorts, and Max in her nightie, I began to become aroused. Max paused for a second when she saw my pants tentpoling, then she pretended not to notice, and lifted the silver satin up to me. Her hands touched me through the material. They brushed against my sides as she pulled it over my body. The smooth silver fabric felt electric against my skin. "You look pretty good to me," she said motioning toward a mirror. And she was right. The long lines of the dress made my torso look even thinner, and like she had said, waif-like. I stood there staring at myself as Max teased my hair into a more feminine style. I managed to stammer out, "See I look as macho as ever, practically like Bruce Willis." She brushed her hand against the side of my face. "More like Milla Jovovich if you ask me." "Now you're just teasing me." "Maybe... I mean I was, but now that I look at you, you do have to agree that you do look more like Milla than Bruce." "Fine, then I know what we're watching," I said and started streaming The Fifth Element. About halfway through the movie, the dryer finished, so I got up and put on my sweats. About that same time Max got up, grabbed her iPad, and continued to glance at it during the rest of the movie. I would have gotten up and looked over her shoulder to see what was so interesting, but I really didn't have the energy, as my body still needed a few weeks to recover. A few times I caught her glancing over at me, looking at me, without trying for my attention. Once the credits were rolling, I turned down the volume, and noticed Max still at her iPad. "You playing a game or something?" She looked up "No, I was just curious so I was checking on something." she got awkwardly quiet. I didn't know if she wanted me to ask about it, or if she was trying to drop the subject. She looked at her iPad, glanced over my body, and looked at my face for a second, before closing it up. "Come on, now you've got me curious." "I don't know if you'd want to know. I mean maybe you would." "What are you kicking me out or something?" "Oh no, geez I was just looking up male models... who crossdress. Now are you happy?" "I guess I shouldn't have asked... well?" She shrugged and tried to speak nonchalantly, "Nothing, just I think you could pull it off." she bent down beside me and showed me a picture of a rail thin boy with long feminine hair, in tight fitting jeans and a jacket. "See not so much a drag queen thing, more the androgynous look." she scrolled down to show a picture of the same boy in a dress, then in the next picture he was wearing high heels and dark red lipstick. "If I'd seen the final picture on its own I would have thought he was a woman," I said. "Yeah, well I was just curious. Plus he still makes a super hot guy," she flipped back up to the first picture. "Anyway I need to get some rest." And with that Max helped me back to the bedroom. She had moved her own things into the office/workshop, stating she'd rather have free access to her work then a comfy bed she'd feel guilty about taking anyway. Over the next few days, Maxine worked out of her loft while I tried to get alternating periods of exercise and rest. She ran a design studio out of the loft, specializing in custom high tech interactive environments. Mostly home theater rooms, but occasionally things like dressing rooms or kitchens. She actually worked with a supplier in Korea that had most of the electronics premade. She was more of an interior designer working on giving them flair and fitting them into people's homes. She only had a few clients, geeks, but they were rich geeks and she was at least breaking even. I'd try to stay out of her way whenever she had clients over, read quietly in a corner, or take a nap. After a few days, I was feeling strong enough where I'd started taking short walks around the neighborhood. On the way back from one of my walks, I found two of her potential clients out back, smoking and discussing whether or not to use her. In the end they decided against it, decided to go with another firm instead. I hadn't been in, so there was no reason they'd recognize me, and I heard them calling her with their regrets as I brushed by them towards the elevator. I had been prepared to comfort Max, and half expected to see her crying when I got back inside, but she looked more annoyed than anything. "Well, did you at least over hear why? Am I charging too much?" she asked. "No, actually they thought you would be a better deal value wise. And I think they liked your design." "Then what was it? Did I offend them or something?" "No, but..." "But what?" "But they kept referring to you as 'this girl'. 'This girl' has good prices, etcetera, like they didn't know your name. They seemed really excited about the other designer, like it was a status symbol or something." "I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong, but you can't really ask your clients why they didn't pick you. Wish I knew who they were going with." "Oh, that's easy. I think they said some guy named Vanders, Seth Vanders, I think." "Never heard of him. His name sounds like Darth Vaders redneck cousin." "Why don't we go check him out? We could say we wanted to hire him. Make believe like we're potential clients or something." "What would we say if he wants the job?" "We'll just tell him we decided to go with you instead." * * * Vander's studio was in what looked like an abandoned building in the old industrial district. As we approached the building we heard the buzzing of power tools, mixed with intermittent hammering. "Are you sure we have the right place?" I said pointing to a "beware of dog" sign. "Yes, when I talked to his agent on the phone, she told me about that. She said he doesn't have a dog he just doesn't like solicitors but that clients are welcome." "He's got a funny way of showing it," I said pointing to the no trespassing sign below his call box. Max pushed the buzzer, and a few seconds later the noise of the power tools stopped. We heard an incomprehensible voice come over the intercom and were buzzed in. * * * Vanders turned out to be a bit of an eccentric. He ran his studio out of a previously abandoned warehouse in the industrial district. After the meeting, Max and I went down to the park, and sat on a bench overlooking the reservoir to talk about it. Max looked annoyed. "So what did you think?" I asked. "Well his designs are crap, I mean at least I think so. I'd hate to be wrong about something like that." "I'm no authority on these things, but yeah I do like your stuff better." "But then why is his stuff selling so much better than mine?" I started to respond, but then closed my mouth, I didn't think Max was going to like what I had to say. "Oh come on John, just spit it out," she said poking me in the shoulder. "It's just that Vander's is eccentric." "And I'm not?" "It's just that he's ahh... eccentric in a more ahh... grown up way," I said and squeezed my eyes shut in anticipation of a severe poking. When one wasn't forthcoming, I opened my eyes to see Max looking at me, not upset, but excitedly interested, so I continued. "He's got a mysterious eastern European Accent, and you have a lot of Hello Kitty. He seems obsessed almost tortured by his work, where you... you seem calm like it's something you've done a million times before. People want their artists crazy, working on a level they couldn't understand, you know, to impress their friends." Once I'd finished she turned away, and quietly watched the sun starting to go down, it's bottom edge clipped by the tops of skyscrapers. "Mind if I ask you something? Something about the you-know-what?" she finally spoke in a soft voice. I sighed, "Go for it. It's okay." "It's just that the whole time I never once heard you complain, or show any fear. Why not?" I sat and watched the sun go down a little while longer, "I suppose it's because by the time I could speak again, it was all over. But don't think I wasn't afraid. The scaredest I've ever been was when I was struggling to take each breath, you know how sometimes you make yourself breathe, and sometimes it just happens? Well the moment between when I couldn't make myself breathe, and when my body started breathing on its own, that was the darkest I've ever been." I felt her fingers intertwine with mine, and we watched the glare of the sun go quiet behind the cities jagged edges. * * * The next day, when I emerged from the bedroom, I found Max laying across the couch in the main room, working on something on her notebook. But when she saw me, she clutched it to her breast, to hide it from me. Her eyes intensified for a moment, as she thought to herself. Then she released the iPad so that it was in plain view. I was too far away to see what was on it, and unsure if she really wanted me to know anyway, so I made my way, walking stiffly as I did, to the kitchen area, and pulled myself a bowl of cereal. She didn't do anything with the computer, didn't shut it down, didn't close any windows, instead she left it open on the coffee table. Where I couldn't help but see what was on it if I sat down in my usual cereal eating spot, which I did without saying a word. I half expected to see more pictures of crossdressing male models, but there wasn't, it was just a bunch of headshots of girls. It took me a second to figure out what they had in common, when I did I finally spoke, "They all have short hair?" "Well, yeah" Maxine, said running her fingers through her own hair. "Are you thinking about getting your hair cut short?" "Maybe," she said sheepishly, "what would you think?" It was hard for me to imagine Max with short hair, only because ever since I've known her, her hair had been halfway down her back. "I dunno, could be cute." She had a strange strained expression on her face, she was thinking to herself again. "Is there something you want to say?" I asked. "I don't know it's kind of silly really," she said dismissively. "Yeah, well if it's important to you, it's important to me. But you don't have to say anything. Not if you don't want to." "Fine," she spat out, as if it was of little concern. "Just, like in all the time you've known me... well since we were kids anyway, I've always had long hair, and I've usually worn skirts, haven't I?" "Yeah, I guess so. Now that you mention it." "But would you say I'm a particularly girlie girl?" "I dunno, besides the way you dress, I guess not." "Well, I didn't always dress like that. When I lived with my dad, I used to be known as sort of a tomboy, I used to have short hair, wear pants, and get into fights. When I turned twelve and Mom got custody, I met some of the neighborhood boys, and well when I told them my name was Max, they assumed I was a boy. I never bothered to correct them, I just thought it was funny, and I went around with them all summer. Then Timmy Johnson had a birthday, and his mom called my Mom, to invite her 'son' to the party. You've met my Mom right?" "Just a few times, but yeah, I suppose she can be a bit controlling. Did it bother her?" "That afternoon, she took all my pants to goodwill. Then we went shopping, and I went to the party in a pink dress." Her eyes looked dead when she said this. "That must have been, interesting..." "It was humiliating. I guess. All the guys laughed, they figured it had been a dare or something. Then one guy dared another, to check between my legs, and then... and then everyone was really sorry, and really quiet." "They speak to you?" "Yeah, eventually... a few weeks later Timmy did. He felt awful about the whole thing. I started hanging out with the guys again. Someone lent me some clothes. And then my mom sent me to an all girl's boarding school in the fall." "Windytop?" "Yeah." "Sorry, about that. I mean if you want to be a guy or something..." "No no, don't worry about that. I like being a girl. It's just it seems so arbitrary. I felt like I was part of a group. We were all too young for sex to be an issue, it's just it seems kind'a stupid that it's acceptable for me to look one way but not another. Mom even made me grow my hair out." "Do you hate her?" I asked. "You know I love her." "Emm.. It is quite possible to both love and hate something at the same time. I might even go so far as to say it's required." "Yeah well true, but funny this is not really how I was expecting this conversation to go." "Hey, you told the story," I protested. "True, just look I was thinking about the whole eccentricity thing again. And I was thinking it might be fun to go back to being a tomboy. If I kept the look clean, professional, and managed to avoid looking like a butch lesbian. It might be a fun way to be more eccentric." "Maybe, but I'm not really sure that'd be enough." "Well I was thinking that and a pretentious accent. Like sort of French, but not quite French enough, where anyone could place it. Also that way I could pretend not to understand people if they say something stupid. And look wise, I was thinking I could dress a little authoritatively. You know how a lot of women's styles today started as men's styles from the past? Like knee high boots and cavalry coats. They all started as men's wear, but men can't really get away with wearing them today? I was thinking like that." "It might work... I think you're getting the idea anyway. Act a part, be a big phony... sounds like fun. You're a going to need to get rid of the Sanrio store though," I said holding up a Hello Kitty. "Yeah well, I can put most of that in storage. I might hide a bit of it in the bedroom though. Just to have it around." * * * The next week, I went with Max to voice lessons. I was hardly busy, and it was fun anyway. Max stripped all the cute Japanese posters from the living room, and replaced them with polish movie posters, which tend to look pretentious and confusing, and have little to do with the movie being advertised. Then she pressed a button on her phone, and everything turned pink and cute again. The latest E-Ink displays from Korea, she explained, and then showed me where to find the app for controlling them on my phone. Things became -weird- after that. Max started using her nondescript fake accent in public, or really anytime we weren't back at her loft with the posters in cute mode. And then she started giving me funny looks, poking me in the ribs, or pretending she couldn't understand me until I started using an accent myself. My health was improving, I was getting more and more energy, and my limbs less and less clumsy, though my strength was taking more time to come back, and I hadn't really put on any weight. One night after we got home, Max asked me in her regular voice, "So do you think I'm ready?" "For what?" "You know to be a big phony, am I eccentric enough?" I smiled. "You've always been eccentric enough." "Well you know, to fool people into thinking I'm a crazy arteast. There's an art show this weekend at the underground, and I was thinking about trying to go in character. Get my hair cut, a new outfit, see how it works out." "Sure go for it, what's holding you back?" "Well John, I was kind of wondering if you'd do it with me. I mean you're accent is as good as mine, and we have a good sort of rhythm." "You want me to be your sidekick?" Max chuckled for a second trying to hold something back. "Exactly!" she said beaming at the mouth, "I mean you know the tech as well as anybody, and you get the eccentricity idea. If there's any odd pauses you could help fill them in." I was a little unsure of the idea. "I don't know if I could pull it off." "I don't know if I can either. But come on it'll be fun, and if we fail it's just one night." "I'd need new clothes," I said pointing down to my sweats, hoping for a brief second that it might dissuade her. "That and a haircut," she said with an even bigger smile then before, if that was at all possible. "I was kind of wondering if you wouldn't mind... being a pretty boy." A look of panic flashed across her face, "Hear me out. It's just that if I'm going to be a serious tomboy, it might balance things out if you went like one of those pretty boy male models." "Like the one with the lipstick?" I said trying to be dismissive. "Well, like the photos of him where he was a boy. You know I seem to remember one summer when your sister got you to dress up like her..." "Oh come on, we were kids at the time. Plus she paid me- a lot. And I was helping her out of a jam." "Well, if we make a lot of money you'll be well paid. And I'm not asking you to dress up like a girl. Just an androgynous man look." "We?" I asked. "We'll make a lot of money?" "Yeah well I figure we're kind of stuck with one another for a little while." she said warmly, "I'll split the profits with you," she added coyly. " You know minus costs, rent, food, etcetera." "Okay, fine, just let's not use my real name." "I wouldn't have it any other way Jean" she said my name with her most pretentious accent yet. * * * Max had made an appointment with a style consultant, a woman named Leslie, the next day. Apparently she had told her the gist of what we wanted to try, as she had booked all the necessary appointments. We met her at a small semi private salon on the west end of downtown. Leslie was a short rather skinny middle aged Asian woman, with an American accent. She explained to the stylist, "They both need to look androgynous, it's for a function. I want her to look like a pretty tomboy, you shouldn't be able to tell if she's a lesbian, and he at first glance, might be mistaken for a girl from the neck up, but on further inspection, you shouldn't see any one thing, or feature that would make it certain." I was taken aback a little when the stylist asked, "You want makeup on both of them?" "Certainly on her, let's see what he looks like without it first," Leslie responded. She had an air of authority about her, and to everyone else it must have seemed like she was our boss. Which in a way helped me be a lot less embarrassed about what was happening to me. While Max was getting her hair cut, they shaved my entire body. They sat me down next to Max, who now had a very short bob-style haircut, with locks of hair falling in front of her ears in a way both feminine and reminiscent of side burns all at once. And they began on my hair as they worked on her makeup. "His hair will be very tricky," Leslie told the stylist. "I want it long enough where it can hung like a girl's hair but it shouldn't look styled enough where anyone can say he had his hair done like a woman's. Something a little messy. Oh but go ahead and bleach it, in layers." It was but exciting and scary having my hair done. Like Max had mentioned, I had dressed up like my sister before, but that was on a dare, when we were kids. I hadn't expected my face could still look feminine. I think the weight I lost at the hospital helped immensely. I hadn't noticed just how skinny my neck was until they added the hair extensions. And while they didn't apply any makeup on my face, my now tweezed and arched eyebrows were much darker then my bleached blond hair, which gave the impression that I'd used a brow pencil. The next few stops were to the back rooms of several high fashion clothing designers, Leslie knew who was trying to clear out inventory. Although the prices were still higher than anything I'd seen before, with Max picking up the bill, I could hardly complain. Again it was a little odd, when Leslie had us try on the same clothes. No skirts or dresses, just a lot of boyish, women's wear. Eventually she decided on an olive three piece girl cut suit for Max, and a more casual soft silk shirt, (or was it a blouse?) and boot-cut leather pants for me. Max completed her new style with a pair of copper embossed 3" heel booties, that raised her up to 6' even. While I had on a pair of loafers, almost slippers really, that kept my 5'8" countenance right where it had always been. Overall it was a very weird, but fun day. The art showing was at nine, and we got home around six in the evening. I laughed a little too loud when we closed the door to the loft and Max started using her regular voice again. "What's so darn funny?" she asked. "Oh nothing, just seeing you dressed up and sleek and elegant, and then having to switch to your regular voice, the sound and the picture don't exactly match." "That's the pot calling the kettle black." She carefully looked over my body. "Or pink as it were." "Yeah this is a bit of a change," as I spoke, I slowly crept in front of the mirror. My head looked just a little too feminine for comfort. Max slid in behind me, running her fingers through the hair on the back of her neck, where it was shortest, "This hair is weird, it feels really light, but it's course." "Do you miss your old hair?" "Just when I stroke it. But I have your hair to play with now." she reached up and slowly ran her fingers through my hair. I jerked back a step when I became aroused. "Oh sorry," she said, "but that does answer one question." "Oh yeah?" I asked in reply. "Well, I mean I've been wondering. You know, about how -affected- that had been by the hospital stay... sorry" "Apparently it's fine." "Look, I didn't mean to," she apologized "No worries really, I was wondering something myself." "What about?" As she asked, fear crept over her face. "About... us," I responded. "I've just been too worried- about your health. And I didn't think you needed the, the, complication." "I'm still a little weak, but I'm not frail. You're not going to break me. But I hadn't seen you in so long, not since... since..." She swallowed some air and finished my question,"Since Mr. Davidson you mean." A tear rushed down her cheek and fell on the floor. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up," I said. "We're both saying sorry an awful lot. You didn't have anything to do with that. No more than I had anything to do with your troubles. The man is dead, and I'm sick of dealing with his specter every time I want to think about you." "Okay, but that still doesn't answer that question." She smiled, held my head by the back of my hair, and rammed her tongue down my throat. * * * As we lay in each other's arms, the bedroom clock slid past my eyes, "Hey Max, it's eight. I think we ought to be getting ready to go." She shushed me, straddled my naked body in hers, and kissed my forehead. "Well, at least that really took the edge off." Once we left the loft, our phony personalities took over again. The art show seemed more like a party game than anything. Max and I would wander next to wealthy looking individuals, and began criticizing the art. Then we'd take turns breaking the ice, asking them questions about this piece or that, and whatever they said, whether it was good or bad, we'd find a snobbish way to agree with them. I was actually better at breaking the ice than Max, that is once I got a drink or two in me. And she'd jump in whenever anyone would test us on art knowledge. At first I wasn't sure if our new looks were helping out at all, then I overheard one woman exclaim to another in a very excited voice, "At first I thought he was a woman. He's so pretty." The pair then saw me and both ladies began to blush, to which I flourished my eyebrows, and got a good laugh out of them. By the end of the night we'd each passed out a pile of business cards. Max went by her real name, but we decided I should go by Jean (pronounced ja-on, or John with a soft J) Dutch. It made it easier for me to stay in character, and would also cut down the likelihood of someone googleing "John Hollander" and finding a picture of my geeky self. We started getting calls the next day, although the first few didn't go so well, until we figured out that people think you're not in demand if they can get ahold of you. After that Max had the bright idea of answering business calls in her normal voice, and pretending to be her own secretary. Soon after, we'd booked most of next week, and we had to go shopping again so we'd have clothes we didn't have on at the party. * * * "We've just been invited to Gaston Maraposia's Halloween party." Max said smiling at me from under the pink wig she'd taken accustomed to wearing while we were home alone. "Is that a big deal?" I asked. "Is that a big deal? Sometimes I forget you've only been at this for a few weeks." She winked. "Yes, it's a very big deal." "Ah, some big mucky muck, could help build your career?" "Not just that, geez, Maraposia's a hero of mine, well back when I was thinking of going into fashion." "What's the party like?" "It's a who's who of style, but it's also a costume party. " "Like Halloween costumes?" I asked. "His parties tend to be a little stuck up and snobbish, except for the Halloween one, where all the stuck up snobs get a little freaky." "Whips and chains freaky?" "I don't know about whips and chains, but there will be a lot of naked people there. Well naked costumes" "How can someone be naked in a costume?" "One year he had topless mermaids in his pool... so I hear." "That's going to be hard to top." "They were paid, not guests. I think it would be in bad taste if a guest tried to use the pool, but I don't know, not really." "So what are we going to go as?" "I don't know, I thought maybe we could take our personalities up a notch. You have any ideas?" "You mean like more androgynous or more pompous?" "Actually maybe a little less androgynous." Maxine had a wicked look in her eye. "Oh I get it, you want to make me your bitch don't you?" I joked rolling my eyes. "I wouldn't have put it that way, John. More like I want you to be my special lady." she leaned over from the chair resting her chin on her hand, and gazed into my eyes. "Come on, it's just for one night. It should satisfy my curiosity. It's not like anyone will take it too seriously, it's Halloween after all." I sat and thought for a minute, until I found myself gazing out the window. "Oh well, I don't suppose it would kill me. But if this somehow hurts the business, it's on you." A few days before the party we were back at the stylist's with Leslie. "This time we want to go all out, turn him into a her." "How far should we go?" asked the stylist. "Well it's just for a party, but if we had time for a sex change we'd be on a plane to Thailand," Leslie laughed, and winked at me in the mirror. "Well in that case why don't we start with laser?" asked the stylist. "How permanent is that?" I gulped "Oh don't be a baby," said Max. "It'll grow back eventually, the first few times..." I spent the next hour and a half getting zapped until my skin, my face, my chest, were as smooth as a baby's. Max continued, "I thought it might be fun to feminize your hands while we're at it. I don't think you ever got to try living with long nails before. I tried it once, it drove me nuts. But some girls like it." The stylist cleaned up my nails and used some very serious glue to attach long false nails that stuck out over the edge of my fingers by about half an inch. She coated them in bright red, then brushed on a clear coat and a top coat. She continued onto my toenails as another stylist started on my hair. They bleached it a much lighter platinum blonde. The girl snipped at my hair while it was still wet, so I couldn't see the full effect, and set my hair in curlers. Max came over and started rubbing my neck, "I know the party is still a few days away, but I want to get your makeup done anyway, so we can see if it's going to turn out." The stylist dipped a sponge in some foundation and started on my face. The eye makeup seemed like it took forever, Leslie ordered them to give me doe's eyes, with strong dark liner. All the while Max looked on, enthralled; I thought she was going to lose it when they attached the fake eyelashes. I heard Max whisper to Leslie, "I want her to have naughty lips." Leslie gulped, and smiled first at her, then at me. The lipstick came in three layers. The bottom was done entirely with a red pencil, first my lips were outlined, just a touch beyond their natural borders with a gently arching cupid's bow across the top, then they filled them in entirely with the bright red of the pencil. The second layer was done with a richer, darker, smudge proof red. And finally a coat of candy apple red gloss. I hadn't even noticed that my hair had set. When they released it from the curlers, it cascaded in spirals down either side of my face. Looking at myself in the mirror was embarrassing, not only did I see a woman staring back at me, but a sultry sexpot. "How do you like your lady self?" Max whispered into my ear. "Are we done then?" "Not by a longshot." "Oh boy." I gulped. "Oh girl." Max laughed. "Besides I know you like it." And when the stylist turned around Max brushed the tip of my now erect penis through my pants. The next step was to pierce my ears, with a little diamond stud in each side. "Okay, I'm going to take her to get dressed now," Max announced and walked me into a private dressing room. "Here you go sport." As Max handed me a wisp of lace, I realized she was using her regular voice again. "What is it?" "It's a garter. You clasp it around your waist." I was having a little trouble with it. "Man, these nails, are really awkward. Maybe we should have waited until the night of the party." "Yeah, but they look so damn sexy... and at least I'm not the one who has to put up with them. Here I'll help you," Max said with a snarky smile, pulled down my pants, underwear and all, and clasped the black garter around my waist. She removed my shirt, so I was just standing there in the garter, still erect and at attention. "Sit down and give me your legs," she instructed, before touching my candy red toes with the lacy edge of a black stocking. She rolled it up slowly, stopping to look me in the eye from time to time. Then picked at it until the back seam was straight, before pulling up the other. She tightened the garter, and attached each of the straps, pulling them tightly so that I felt each snap against my skin. "What's that?" I asked, as she pulled out an even more serious looking undergarment. "Oh this, this is just a corset. You don't really need one, with your waist so small, but I thought it might be fun just the same," she said before pulling it up my legs, and over my torso so that it settled on my new, somewhat higher waistline. "Breathe out for second, Honey." "Why?" "Oh don't be a baby just breathe out." She pulled my shoulders back and gently pressed against my tummy until I started to exhale. She kept me exhaling for a lot longer than I expected, until I was entirely out of breath. All at once, she strained pulling the laces of the corset as tight as possible. I gasped for air, but was only able to take in a short breath, as she tied it off. She slapped my bottom. "Good girl. Sorry about that, but hey check it out." she said pointing to a mirror. My waist had taken on a distinct hour glass shape. "Yeah, it's nice," I wheezed. "Just take more breaths. But stay calm, and don't over exert yourself. You'll get used to it. Come on now we're almost done," she said, as she clasped a black padded bra around what was left of my chest. "I didn't want to go with breast forms, we're going for more of a super model look, and they don't have big boobs anyway. Just enough padding so it'll hold its shape." She sat me down again and slid a lacy pair of panties up my legs. "This isn't going to work" she said when she reached my penis, "And you act like you're not enjoying yourself," she said stroking the tip. "But let's save the fireworks, for when we get home hunh?" she ran out and got a cup of ice, and held it against my unit until it went down. I was surprised that it did, and she tucked it between my legs and fitted the panties into place. "Those are really tight," I protested. "They're supposed to be. They're what's called a gaff. Plus it'll be a good test run to see how well they work under pressure." I felt my member trying to get hard again, and it did, a little, but the gaff limited it. "Ta da," she said with a smile holding up a red swing dress, covered with black lace. I stepped into the dress, and Max slid it up my body. She pulled my arms through two cap sleeves and started zipping me up the back. Then she slid my feet into a pair of black 3 inch heels, with a little red bow sitting just above each open toe. I stood up and almost fell over myself. "I've never worn such high heels before. I don't know if I can manage it." "Don't worry," she said, lightly touching my nose and switching back to the accent, "See it's a good thing we got started a few days earlier." she helped steady me, as I stepped out to show the others. * * * Maxine couldn't get me back to the loft quickly enough. But oddly enough once she did, she just stood there staring at me. "Want to go back to the... umm bedroom," I asked. "Yes," she said licking her lips, "But if we do, it'll be over too quickly. I want to savor this." "I don't think this ever came up before, but you like girls don't you?" "Maybe, but that's not it... I just like seeing you like this." "Like a girl?" "Like a sex toy." she said smiling, and arching a brow. "Don't get me wrong if you really didn't like it, I don't think I would either. What do you think of yourself?" "The nails are a pain," I said stretching out my fingers in front of me, "But they do look nice. And the rest of it too." I stood in front of the mirror and looked myself over. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy having you do those things to me." "You enjoyed the attention?" "It's kind of interesting. I feel helpless and powerful all at the same time." "It's a trip to see you that way. Makes me want to do all sorts of nasty things to you." "Like what?" I asked with some apprehension. "I almost don't want to say. But I suspect you'd enjoy it." "Enjoy what?" "Okay..." she sat me down on the couch where I could see myself in the mirror. And then went to get a box from the bedroom. "A lot of girls like the thrill of being helpless." she said as she unzipped my dress and pulled it off over my head. "I suppose it's a biological thing, to make sex with forceful men more exciting. But you don't really need the guy." She pulled out a pair of black leather cuffs and took one of my hands gently in hers. "Shall I continue? Just to see if you like it." "Okay" I nodded. She latched the cuffs around each wrist pulled my arms behind me and locked them into place. "Do you trust me?" she asked looking me dead in the eye. "Yes." She brushed a rubber ball against my lips. "Open up," she said. And when I did, she pressed it into my mouth and locked a harness around my head. "It's less complicated if you can't talk. You don't feel the need to protest what we both know you're going to enjoy." She buckled a pair of matching black leather cuffs around my ankles and latched them with a small brass lock. "Don't forget to look in the mirror, that's half the fun." I looked at myself, and saw a blond bimbo, helpless and gagged. "I've only tried this stuff out on myself before. I've always been a little embarrassed about liking this sort of thing, but I thought you might enjoy... being my helpless little slut." she started whispering baby talk to me. "Do you like being my slut?" I nodded with apprehension, unsure of where Max was taking this. "Oh I know you do." she pulled my legs behind me and locked the two pairs of cuffs together. Then we watched ourselves in the mirror as she stroked my hair. "Bimbo, slut, cunt" she whispered in my ear with affection. She pulled my panties down to my knees. "What should we do about this?" she licked her fore finger and touched the tip of my penis. "Maybe I should let you suffer for a while first? That would just be cruel." she got up, went into the bedroom and closed the door. Leaving me to watch myself on the couch. The stylists had made me up to last. My lips hadn't smudged, and my hair was still holding together. I tried struggling against the cuffs just to watch myself. When Maxine did finally emerge she was wearing a matching red set of lingerie: garters, stockings, bra. "Ohh, how's my little slut holding up? Does my little whore like wearing pretty clothes? Does she?" I nodded, hoping to move this along. "Does she like having pretty hands with pretty nails that make it hard for her to do anything but be my pretty little whore." I nodded. "Look at yourself in the mirror, do you see any sort of man there?" I paused for a second and shook my head. "Do you want to be my pretty little slut forever, and ever?" I wasn't sure if she was serious. She lifted up my chin, gazing into my eyes, and asked again, "Do you want to be my pretty little slut forever, and ever?" I nodded and she didn't say anything, but instead produced a black laced trim blindfold mask, she pulled it down over my eyes. I felt hands rubbing my thighs. I pulled at my arms and legs and couldn't move them. The weight of a warm body on my chest making it hard for me to breathe, and darkness I couldn't get away from. "You like that do you?" she asked, as I felt my body shiver. Within seconds I was drenched in a cold sweat. I tried to tell her something was wrong, that I hadn't felt this helpless since the hospital, but my words came out as smears of lipgloss against a rubber ball. "Are you..." her question trailed off as I bit into the rubber ball. There was shooting pain at the base of my teeth when they sunk in. My penis went flaccid in her hands. "Fuck, what's wrong?" she asked and yanked off the blind fold. That helped but I was still exhausted, dripping with cold sweat and unable to move. Max fumbled with the key, she was shaking, but eventually I heard a click behind my head, then she pulled the rubber ball free of my teeth. "Are you okay?" she asked again. "Sorry," I said tasting blood in my mouth, "it's just it feels a little too much, like back at the hospital." Max continued to fumble with the locks, tears streaming down her face. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." She released my hands, and started working on my feet. "Don't be. You couldn't know. I didn't know." My voice sounded weak to me. I found myself looking at the bright red nails on my hands, and sighed. She unlocked my feet, and helped me situp on the couch. She placed a blanket over my shoulders, went to the sink, and brought me a glass of water. I drank it slowly, with her kneeling beside me. Noticed the blood in the water was the same color as the lipstick smudges on the glass, and the same color as the fake plastic nails glued on top of my own. She looked at me as if to ask what was wrong, but didn't utter a word. "It's just I kind of feel like a man in lingerie with a bunch of shit glued to me right now." "Why don't we take some of that stuff off you?" The stockings drenched with sweat felt like wet tissue paper stuck to my legs. I heard a sticky thwack against the floor when we finally cast them aside. My whole body relaxed when she loosened the ties on the corset. I kicked it away once it was free of my legs. She gently touched my face, and pulled the false lashes off. When she started pulling my fingers toward the jar of removal gel, I protested, "It's okay they'll look good at the party." "I don't give a damn about the party," Max said and proceeded to remove each one of the bright red nails. She wiped my toes clean with acetone, and started using cold cream on my face. Finally she used a wet towel, and a bowl of water to clean my skin. When she was done, she took everything off of herself: clothes, makeup, and then settled in beside me on the couch until we were two naked bodies holding each other. Hours past as the sun began to go down again. She spoke in a whisper, "I still remember the sting of duct tape pulling against my hair, and the cold wet feeling of him oozing out of me. Sometimes I feel like I'm still trapped on that chair, like I'll never get away. That's why I slit my wrists at the hospital, to get away from him, from myself." I wanted to tell her everything would be alright, that he was a corpse decomposing in the ground. But I wasn't sure if I believed that myself, not really. "Do you think you'll ever be alright?" I asked. "I hope so," she answered. I kissed her forehead and she laid her face against my chest. * * * The next day things were, understandably, a lot more relaxed. We tried on our costumes for the party, we were doing a gender bent mad men, with Max as the male boss, and me as her secretary. We replied the nail polish, though this time to my own nails. And then spent the rest of the day having sex games. We'd take turns tying each other up, though the blindfold and ball gag went in the trash. At the end of the day when we decided to go out to eat, and I found my regular clothes looked freaky with my new hair style, I went in a dress. And although we went to a gay friendly restaurant, I don't think anyone knew we weren't a lesbian couple. * * * Max couldn't keep her hands off me during the cab ride to the party. She'd keep picking at my stockings, or adjusting my hair. She looked cute herself even with her hair slicked back, a touch of gray makeup on her face to mimic a beard shadow, and her breasts tightly bound with an ace bandage. But her face was too cute and she would have looked like a ridiculous young boy dating a full grown woman save the lifts she had in her boots, that allowed her to keep her height advantage over me, at just about 6' compared to my 5' 10" in heels. Maraposia's house was a few miles outside the city, and we weren't sure we had the right place until we found a line of limos backed up. We felt a little self-conscious stepping out of a cab, but people were too distracted to notice. The doorman, was just that. A door with the face of a man, or rather a man with his head poking out of a door, covered in foam latex and paint to make him look like part of the building. He'd joke with each of the guests before letting them in. He asked Max how "he'd" gotten a date with me, implying that blackmail was somehow involved. When we finally were let in, we were in for a treat. The door man was just the beginning. Maraposia, had hired actors to portray most of the furniture. A grandfather clock was serving drinks at the bar, and several of the molding angels, the top of the stair rails, were all people, covered in paint, sunk flush with the building's structure. Much of the hanging art were people too. And Max and I would go around criticizing each one. Eventually she got quite busy meeting people, she was a little more on her game then I was, and I found myself wondering by myself. I had just stepped out on the balcony and was about to step back inside, when I saw a great oaken chair blocking my way, it was upholstered in rich red velvet, and had a suspiciously human looking wooden head atop it's high back. I chuckled to myself and pronounced, "And here I was looking for a place to sit. Only to find a place to sit looking for me." Though the chair's face remained frozen, I thought I saw a smile from the corner of his mouth trying to force its way onto his face. "It's really getting quite chilly out here, I just suppose I'll have to burn the furniture." I jested, pulling a zippo out of my purse, and sparking it near the chair. "You're a man right?" I stopped and asked the chair, to which he stood up, and bending his great wooden arms, took a bow. "Forgive me if I do offend the lady," the chair asked in a deeply mature voice, "but I might ask the same question of you..." "A man in a dress, you are correct." "Ha I knew it!" said the chair. "And then I trust no offense was taken." "None Sir Chair, but I must warn you that unlike yourself," I slapped my own ass, "this seat is taken." "Personally or professionally?" the chair asked in a truly concerned manner. "Both, I guess, but more personally then professionally. What business does the chair speak of?" "Ah good." The chair saw an opening. "Well, not to be too clich?, but has anyone told you, you ought to be a model?" * * * At last the lights flickered signaling the night had ended. I hadn't seen much of Max, but she found me to tell me the cab was waiting outside. She was happily clutching a fistful of business cards. "So how did you enjoy being a woman at the party?" she asked. "It was a lot of fun. I kept worrying that some dumb guy was going to hit on me, but that never happened." "Not with this crowd. My dear lady, you might be one of the more manly men here. So can I get you to go in drag again next year?" "Do you like seeing me this way?" I asked. "Yes, you know I do." "Well then you might have a few more opportunities then you expected." I said, and slipped Gaston Maraposia's card into her hand. First posted on Fictionmania. If you enjoyed the story please leave a review or comment. [email protected]