Life Imitates Art The Body Suit Part 1
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Life Imitates Art - The Body Suit: Part 2 free porn video
Life Imitates Art: The Body Suit
Part 2
Diana Kimberly Heche
+++++++++
Chapter 2. Truth and Consequences
The sun was setting as the massive parking lot began to slowly empty. As
he had been for almost two hours, Coleman sat in his six-year old Toyota
Prius unable to turn the key. Thrilling or not, the reality was
inescapable. He was a she. Not in the truest sense as Kayla, "she" must
remind herself to constantly think in terms of being "Kayla" - as Kayla
retained her basic masculine biology. But it, like every trace of a male
existence, was hidden behind the technical marvel of the female second
skin.
"Live the role, be the character," Kayla was reminded by the two Counter
Punch executes, as her first, quite eventful day came to an end. And in
the heady moments - the strangely, almost chemically powerful euphoric
moments - following her first true role as an actor, she bought fully in.
Kayla raised her hand to her forehead, running it slowly down to her
bottom lip. It was in this spirit of cooperation that she put up no
resistance when further changes squeezed her strong German nose behind the
petite false one that now centered her face. And her lips, while never
thin, several needle shots later were a much fuller and pronounced shape
than before.
And her body ...
In the moments after applying the body suit Kayla was mesmerized by the
sheer audacity of being squeezed and padded into a convincing female form.
She understood she was well formed, but it was an offhand, visual
understanding. Her wedged heels, while not sky high, accentuated her
shapely feet and calves and lean but muscular thighs. Her bottom jutted
outward in a pleasingly round fashion curving into a tapered tiny waist
and largeish bosom. The entire effect gave her the look of a Barbie come
to life.
It was when she was escorted through the building that the understanding
went from observational to tangibly real. Even when men and women weren't
surreptitiously, or in a few cases overtly, checking her out she could
feel their eyes upon her. During the short introductory conversations she
did have, people's eyes flickered, even if just for a second, to take in
her shape. Even the politer coworkers who did not, held her gaze with more
interest and attentiveness than she had previously known. It was a body
that demanded attention, which meant in turn, she demanded attention.
Face changed. Body changed. Gender changed. She was as radically a
different person as humanly imaginable. And not just any different person.
One who consumed the oxygen in the room by sheer looks alone.
If real life was a play, she was cast in the starring role. "Live the
role, be the character."
But now what? Kayla understood the role of a lifetime she was playing. But
it was a different prospect to go home to Laurie and explain all this. It
was possible Laurie may adjust over time to this woman taking Coleman's
place for a month. But it would require violating the draconian
nondisclosure agreement and coming clean; there was no getting around
that. But only Laurie could be let in. Keeping the secret from everyone
else would turn their lives into a tangled web of complexities and lies.
Another layer of complications thrown into this already complicated mix.
But that was the price to be paid for art.
Kayla placed her hand on the large box of Counter Punch clothes given to
her to help ease the sudden transition. What if Laurie didn't understand?
Kayla could just run. Make an excuse and hide from Laurie for a few weeks.
Go straight from work to home and back. No, she admitted to herself, that
would never work. Even if she did have a place to go, there weren't enough
clothes to get her through but a few days. Kayla was going to need to buy
or borrow more clothes. Master walking in heels even higher than these.
She would need to learn to apply makeup and style the thick hair she now
called her own. This would require more than a few hours in front of
tutorial videos, it would require someone's help. A full time acting,
makeup and wardrobe coach. And who better than Laurie?
No, just be a ma- ... be a woman ... about this, Kayla thought. Just go
home and let Laurie absorb the situation. It will unfold however it
unfolds and Kayla will deal with the aftermath then.
Yes. Just tell her.
But maybe just a bit of liquid courage first.
++++
The "Last Call Sheet" was a terrible pun for a bar, but most of the up and
coming actors who frequented the place did not care. The pub was
established years ago by Fernando Suarez, a C list television actor who
never forgot how difficult it was stretching a dollar on the typical
actor's waitstaff salary. Acknowledging those hard times, he made sure the
drinks and food were cheap. And he took no offense his place being no more
than a cheap way station on the way to more trendy places later at night.
The young pretty faces of his clientele, at odds with the d?cor of tired
wood, spilled beer, and popcorn strewn across the bar, attracted even more
pretty faces - male and female alike. The Last Call Sheet was always
standing room only during the opening hours of the night. Cheap drinks or
not, Fernando was in no danger of going under.
Kayla walked past the entrance three times before gathering her nerve to
go in. Her plan was simple: slip behind a quiet corner table by herself
and have a drink while she pondered how to present this major change to
Laurie. But she had not fully thought through her plans, at least not
through the lens of the newly created Kayla. A woman in heels, a tight a
lycra skirt and half exposed breasts was not slipping quietly anywhere.
And while the eyes that followed her at Counter Punch did so with the
caution of work place decorum, in a pub flowing of drink no such rules
applied. Eyes stared, mouths opened and heads tracked her every step. No
sooner had she sat down was she flanked by mid twenty aged boys.
"Hey if we're stealing these seats let us know," said the taller, more
athletic of the two young men. Kayla said nothing as she looked at him. He
was a clean-shaven black-haired boy who would be considered conventionally
handsome by most, if not a touch generic. His friend, a soul patched
African-American, with black frame glasses, untucked shirt and short
carefully styled short braids, was all but a study in hipster fashion. It
was as if they were paired to appeal to the broadest spectrum of women.
"At the very least, let us buy you a drink either way," Hipster insisted
motioning for the waitress. Kayla had been on the other side of this
conversation many times before.
With fifty dollars cash in her clutch bag needing to make it to the end of
the week and the Prius almost out of gas, she was not about to say no.
Instinctively her hand touched her choker to make sure the voice
modulation device was in place. Showtime: "In fact, yes, thank you. A
glass of house cab." Interesting, Kayla thought. Coleman drank draft beer,
he rarely touched wine. She was apparently reinventing herself on the fly
even at the smallest levels. Her artistic creativity flowed.
"Actors, college boys or something in between?"
The two men laughed heartily. "Something in between," the black-haired
young man responded. Did all boys laugh this hard at vaguely amusing
statements by girls? Probably. Coleman certainly would have, she thought.
"We work in advertising. I'm in sales. I'm Jim by the way," he extended
his hand in greeting, "and Anthony there works on the creative side.
Graphic arts, specifically." Kayla crossed her legs to lean forward to
shake their hands. Jim's eyes took in her well-shaped legs while Anthony
snuck a peak down her shirt to see what little didn't already show. It
gave her a strange hot feeling on the back of her neck. Was she
uncomfortable or thrilled to be so openly lusted after? Maybe a little of
both?
"Kayla. Pleased to meet you. And," taking a drink off the waitress's tray,
"I think this is my wine. Thank you. If you don't mind though, I have some
people I need to catch up with on text. See you later?"
"No problem, of course. Here take my card. It has my personal cell on it."
Hipster Anthony smiled in answer as the boys stood up to leave.
Like a bolt of lightning an errant fragment of a thought intruded into her
consciousness and flew away as quickly as it came. The type of insanely
wild thought that made you happy telepathy wasn't real: Kayla's mind eye
saw herself bent over in the bathroom stall, Anthony perched on the toilet
water basin, her red lips sliding down his hard, thick shaft while Jim
stood behind her plunging his semen lubricated dick into her warm
welcoming ass.
She swatted the thought away as a moment of imaginative madness. Coleman
didn't like men. He wasn't phobic, it just wasn't his cup of tea. Was
Kayla more open to the idea? Were there depths of her inner self telling
her something she had not known? Or was she doing what any good actor
would and falling even deeper into the psychology of the character?
She sipped her wine, her finger distractedly winding and unwinding one of
the long red strands of hair. Yet another new habit. No time to think
about that now. She needed to deal with Laurie.
+++++++++
"If he hasn't called you yet, he's probably out carousing women."
"Mom," Laurie Emerick explained in the patient manner she adopted over
years, "Coleman doesn't 'carouse.' And to honest, I don't think anyone
this side of the 1950s 'carouses.' You sound like Dad when he's at the
pulpit. Look Coleman's only two hours late. He's dependable. Honest.
Reliable. Why would I worry over a couple of hours?"
"The unemployed dreamer whose theatrical ambition doesn't put food on the
table? Is that the same as reliable?" Her mother's Georgian drawl made the
word 'reliable' last as long as the rest of the sentence.
"Huh. And to think I could have stayed in Hinesville and had you even
further in my business."
"Don't be a smart mouth. I love you. I worry. And I want you to be with
the right man. Or, if that can't happen, I want this Coleman Cookie Cutter
character to turn himself around and be the right man. Or I'll take my
behind down to Los Angeles and straighten him out myself."
Laurie let out a big sigh, "I know you love me mom. Really. And just to
let you know, Coleman does work. Just got a steady office job and part
time acting job both at a huge clothing company here. Makes nearly twice
my salary."
"Well that isn't saying much, knowing what you make. But your father will
be happy to hear he's at least trying to do right by you. Idle hands and
all that."
"Okay Mom, you do that. I'm going to go now. I'll call you on Sunday. Love
you. Give my love to Dad. Bye." Laurie put the phone back into her jean
shorts back pocket. Her mom was extreme, a woman with a strong Southern
Baptist upbringing in rural Georgia would be, but she wasn't stupid. The
silly language of carousing aside, it was not like Coleman to not call or
text when he was held up for even a short period of time. This silence
going on two and a half hours did cause her mild concern. As much as she
hated to do it - a strong woman in her own right, she prided herself in
her non-smothering approach to their relationship - but she would never
forgive herself if something serious had passed and she failed to even
call.
She pulled the phone back out her pocket and hit the favorites' button
marked "Sweetheart."
"Hello?" Laurie was instantly alarmed. It was a woman's voice on the other
end of the call. Why was she answering Coleman's phone? Had something
happened to him?
"I'm looking for Coleman. Who is this? Is something wrong? Why did you
pick up?" She sounded more panicked than she intended. If Coleman had
simply been out of reach of his phone and asked this girl pick up, Laurie
would sound like a madwoman. Calm down Laurie.
There was a pause on the other end. She could hear loud bar noises in the
background. What was happening here? After too long the female voice
finally spoke, "Take it easy. Take it easy. I may not sound like it, but
this is me ... it's me ... it's ...your sweetheart. I'm doing a voice."
That was no voice. It was too high. Too feminine. Too real. She had done
vocal exercises with Coleman, and, frankly, he was not good enough to pull
this off. "Bullshit. Don't hand me that bullshit. Who are you?" Laurie
went from frightened for Coleman to angry with him. How dare he allow some
woman to pick up his phone and play games with her.
"My, my, a daughter of a Baptist preacher using language like that," the
female voice on the other end teased in the exact sing song way Coleman
often used that phrase.
"What did you say?" Now she was truly confused.
"I said I know Trent and Meredith would be awfully upset if that lay about
actor was teaching her such foul language. They surely don't talk that way
at Hinesville Baptist Church." Another pause. "Look, It's me. I'm doing a
voice. It's for a role. A ... female impersonator thing ... sort of ...
it's really complicated ... but it's part of the job I got today. I'm just
... I just ... kind of have to stay in character."
It was him. It had to be him. But that voice ... and what did he mean
"have to stay in character?" Laurie still wasn't sure what was happening,
but she relaxed a bit. The important thing was he safe and he hadn't
suddenly found an appetite for cheating. But this have to stay in
character business? Was he sitting at some bar in drag? No, don't be
crazy. That's too out there. She was letting her imagination get ahead of
her again.
"Where are you?" she asked. "No, I already know. Last Call Sheet, right?
Stay put, I'll be there in twenty minutes."
+++++++
Kayla finished her second glass of wine. Laurie would be here any minute.
It would probably be best to meet her outside, somewhere this could take
place in private. She walked a few steps toward the door before turning
back to her table. She had forgotten her purse. One more thing to get used
to.
She stood in the well-lit alley next to the parking lot looking for
Laurie's car to turn down Figueroa Street. It had not been Kayla's intent
to pick up the phone and speak in her Kayla modified voice but ignoring a
call while being two plus hours late was just not how she treated her,
extreme situation or not. Kayla worried there were people within
reasonable earshot when the call came in. While they may not be able pick
up the words of the conversation, a young buxom girl's voice suddenly
dropping a few octaves would perk up a few ears.
Laurie was here. Even having run this conversation from optimal outcome to
worst, she was still nervous. Laurie got out of her car and walked
purposefully toward the pub. She gave the girl in the too short skirt,
heels and scandalous top a quick look over, but no more so than she would
any club girl.
"Laurie. Laurie Emerick," Kayla called out. Laurie slowed, puzzling for a
moment at the stranger calling her name. Her face ran through a series of
emotions that Kayla could not discern in the dim light, but she could
guess one of them was confusion. Her girlfriend, assuming Laurie would
still be that by the end of all this, approached.
"You're not ... is that ...?
"Yes. It's me." She couldn't bring herself to say "Coleman." Even a few
hours into the skin suit transformation, Coleman needed to be a fading
alien concept. The demands of the role were too big for it not to. And
more so, there was something about being Kayla, about the way this suit
made her feel so ... pleasantly elated all the time ... that made her
increasingly think about only wanting to be Kayla even now when face to
face with Laurie.
"This is impossible. You look ... you are ... I mean, my dad would
probably call this witchcraft ... Hell, I think it might be witchcraft."
Humor. Good, Kayla thought.
"Your face, your body. It's ... make me understand this Coleman. To be
honest, it frightens me a little. I don't know how this is real ..."
Kayla motioned for Laurie to sit down. It was not the best of looks, two
women sitting on the curb outside of a bar, but Laurie's car seemed too
claustrophobic a choice, probably for them both.
Taking a deep breath, Kayla told her every detail. She started with the
small parts of the interview she had left out all the way through moments
ago taking the phone call at the bar and not wanting her true voice to be
revealed. She stressed the importance of the NDA. She detailed how the lab
team poked, prodded, squeezed and glued things to her. She explained how
her employers thought it was best, both for the film work and moving
safely in the world, that she be completely Kayla. She told Laurie that
doors were already opening, and if she can pull this off, acting would
move from an albatross to a viable occupation. Her lifelong dream made
reality.
Kayla understood, she assured Laurie, that this put unforeseeable pressure
on the relationship and could fundamentally, maybe permanently, change the
nature it. "It's a big thing to undertake without consulting you, I get
it. So, if this is all too much and you get in your car and drive away,
I'll understand. But I hope it is not," Kayla said. She wanted to reach
for Laurie's hand but wasn't sure how she would react.
Kayla finished and waited for a reaction of some kind, any kind. Laurie's
face was that of someone absorbing a tale happening to someone else. It
was too fantastic, too impossible, to be her life, but here it was. After
an eternity she finally spoke.
"I really wish you would have let me look at the nondisclosure agreement.
I was a legal secretary in my last job, remember. I may not have been able
to parse all the ends and outs of the law, but I would have known a red
flag if I saw it. An involuntary twenty-day experiment sure sounds like
one. Probably isn't even legal. But that's not the issue any more."
"It's what to do about me. What to do about us."
"Look, Coleman. Kayla," Laurie looked studiously into her eyes, "am I to
call you Kayla, too?"
"I would prefer it, yes."
"'Prefer.' And why is that?"
"I could repeat the part of the story where the two execs went on about
Meryl Streep and Bobby De Niro living their roles twenty-four seven,"
Kayla answered honestly, "and that's all true. I'm committed to my craft.
But another truth is it's easier for my sanity if I just go all in. I
mean, look at me. Listen to me. I'm all but a woman, and I assume you're
not into women ... at least not in a romantic way." Kayla continued, "So
if Kayla is Kayla and Coleman is an entirely different person, then there
may be hope for us by not confusing the feelings you have for him with the
- and I hope it comes to this - friendship you develop with Kayla in the
next few weeks. Coleman. Kayla. A clean divide, a bright line."
"That's some schizophrenic shit you realize, right?"
Kayla smiled, Laurie was taken aback by just how pretty this woman was.
"Not to be pedantic, but its 'dissociative identity disorder', but I take
your point. And you're not entirely wrong. Don't get me wrong, I'm not
suddenly into men," Kayla said, ignoring the momentary fantasy of
pleasuring two men in the Last Call Sheet's bathroom. "When I was in the
bar, I had drinks bought for me, and was talked to and treated in an
entirely different way. It's a chance to get glimpse of a world completely
shut off to me. Think of how much that will expand me as an actor."
"Get a glimpse of the world shut off to you? You mean get a glimpse of the
world that wants to fuck you? I mean look at you. You've got bigger boobs
than I do, and if I dressed like that, I would be swatting men away like
flies all night." Laurie waived her hand angrily. The thought of this
Kayla, her used to be Coleman, being groped and pressed against by lusty
boys - and it was going to happen sooner if not already - upset her to no
end. It was just too much ...
"You'd be swatting them away because you're the prettiest girl in the
world. I would be swatting them away because they had too much to drink."
Laurie went from anger to laughter. Kayla or not, this was still the
charmer she remembered.
"Listen. Laurie. I'm stuck. And I want to be stuck. At least for now. This
is me. Kayla. There's no changing that. And I'm not going to be able to do
this alone. I need help. I don't know the first thing about being a woman.
Well, except I'll never buy my own drink again."
Too much, Kayla thought? No, Laurie laughed again.
"Okay. We'll do this. On my terms. That means you're sleeping on the
couch. And not because you're this woman, but because you did all this
without talking to me about it first."
"More than fair. More than fair. A toast then?"
Laurie's right eyebrow rose almost to bangs of her attractive brown bob
cut, "Now you are pushing it. This whole thing has worn me out. Let's just
get home. I have a lot to think about."
++++++++
Bethesda Harris strolled into the coffee shop to find Monica Paulson
already there sipping a large drink. A medium vanilla latte was situated
directly across from her, foamed with whip cream and still steaming.
Interesting, Bethesda thought, my preferred flavor. Monica Paulson does
her homework.
Bethesda sat down taking the cup in two hands sipping quietly, "Two hours
before work. Five miles from the scores of Starbucks surrounding the
Counter Punch campus. And we don't know each other all that well. I take
it this isn't a social call?" Even smiling without a trace of humor,
Bethesda's brown face lit up beautifully. Monica wonder offhandedly if
there were any unattractive execs at Counter Punch. She certainly couldn't
think of any.
"Not to freak you out, but you know how closely I work with Kelly Latham.
She, and I'm not shitting you, she does the full corporate paranoia and
espionage thing. Has eyes on her employees, even at our level, a lot more
than you'd probably be comfortable with. Trade secrets and what not."
"You're ..."
"Not kidding one bit. No," Monica interjected. "But beside the point.
We've been thrown into more of a delicate situation than we know, so I
want to make sure all our ducks are in a row."
"Kayla Cameron Cook?"
"Kayla Cameron Cook."
"Okay. What's your take? Because honestly Monica, I marveled at the
technology of it. And the marketing opportunities are off the charts. And
not just the suit. That shapewear - the suit's breasts and hips, are as
good as any surgery. I mean look at how good our boy looked. Do you know
how much money we'll make in the female forty and beyond demographic?
Flawless youth? No more sagging breasts? Being at the beach with women
half their age with bodies looking twice as good? And because the price
point of the basic suit is so high, tens of thousands of dollars, we'll be
locking these women into something like a life time mortgage. Not to
mention the elephant in the room. I saw how good that chemical in the suit
made Kayla feel. We may be running addiction studies, but my guess?
Addictive as hell. All this together means there will be ninety-year-old
women on their deathbeds in those suits. Come to think of it, I'm willing
to bet we'll start seeing sleeveless blouses and knee length skirts in
open caskets during funerals. The last act of vanity. The stock price of
this company is going through the roof."
"Agreed. All true," Monica said, "which is why I am so concerned about the
cavalier approach Kelly is taking to testing. She is a big picture woman.
One of the best, if not the best. Its why I have been loyally serving this
company all this time -"
"As have I."
"As have you, Bethesda. But I don't think Kelly has thought the finer
details of this out very well. And NDA notwithstanding, I'm not sure she
ran it past legal. We have a ticking time bomb on our hands."
"Maybe." Bethesda stirred sugar into her latter thoughtfully. This chain
always did make them a touch bitter.
"I don't know you very well. But it's my job to know your work. You're
intelligent and excellent at what you do. You're pragmatic when needed and
always hit your goals. But you never struck me as a magical thinker."
Bethesda wondered whether to focus on the compliment or insult tagging the
end. "Your point?"
"My point?" Monica continued. "We've talked about the piles of money and
all that is right with this suit. But let's walk this path from the other
end: what could go wrong. And, let's apply this specifically to our
walking test subject Ms. Kayla Cook. You first."
Problem analysis. Bethesda's strong point. "In a less than ten-hour period
we took an unsuspecting man and changed his body to that of a female. We,
in all likelihood, chemically addicted her to that body. And with a speech
about actors far better than she'll ever be, we sent her out into the
world with no support other than a suit case full of work clothes. We've
given no consideration to the environment she will find herself in, with
the full expectation that an NDA will keep her from explaining what
clearly demands to be explained."
"Does that sound viable to you?"
"No, it doesn't," Bethesda confirmed, "the workplace is manageable. Kayla
will be treated as a woman. And if she slips up a bit, she will be treated
as a transgendered woman. One in the same in a progressive environment
such as ours. And working for the two of us, we can monitor her
psychological wellbeing. In us, she has people who know her situation and
can smooth unforeseen complications."
"And the world beyond our walls?"
"The fucking Wild West."
"Right. The fucking Wild West. And if anything happens to her - a piano
falls on her from a second story window landing her in a hospital, some
misogynist miscreant attempts a sexual assault, or a girlfriend gets angry
and exposes her to the press, we're left exposed. And if those chemicals
are as strong as I think they are, what happens when a chemically addicted
test subject wants to keep wearing a suit she can't ever afford? And none
of this even touch on her reaction realizing the commercials will never
air and the job will go away in a short time."
Monica shook her head at the enormity of it all. She looked Bethesda in
the eye and finished, "A blown NDA is the most likely outcome for these
scenarios. Maybe even the best outcome. A lawsuit for extreme
psychological damage and the FDA never allowing to such and addictive suit
to go to market is not far behind. Not the piles of money Kelly Latham is
dreaming about."
Bethesda saw where this was going. "So we put in as many controls in the
environment as possible. We make her entire world a laboratory we can
control." Letting out a low whistle she said, "Pricey. Do you want to sell
this to Kelly or should I?"
"I'll do it. I've had some luck with making her think she came up with
ideas that I suggested." Monica stood up. "See you in the office."
+++++++
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Life Imitates Art The Body Suit Part 3
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