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Mirror Image Belladonna [Author's Note: Somewhat inspired by a number of episodes of the Twilight Zone] 'This is torture,' John thought to himself with a shake of his head as he walked through the ladies' section of the department store. He watched the women ignoring his presence while they perused the racks of various garments. John wished that he could have such freedom, but he knew that it was never to be. He was destined to be a repressed cross-dresser for the rest of his life. It was all about survival to John. The urge never left him, but he knew what succumbing to it would cost. There were many close calls when he was younger and more impulsive. The girlfriends wondering why their clothes were stretched. A sister finding runs in her hose. Their accusing eyes focused on him, but he would never admit to anything. Eventually, he found a girl. He settled down and got married. It was all part of the heterosexual male playbook. He played the part of the man, but the urge never truly left him. He wanted to be soft, wanted to be beautiful and wanted to wear soft and beautiful things, but he could never let himself. Not with his wife around. Now, Victoria was long gone. She had divorced him to takeoff with a coworker. That had not been part of the playbook, but it was not a complete surprise to him. He knew that she had grown bored with him. She had grown bored with their staid life and his inability to let his guard down. He wanted to be more for her. He wanted to let her in. If that guard came down, however, he knew what could slip out. That would have only hastened the end. John knew that no woman wanted to be married to a sissy when they assumed they married a man. John felt some relief as he entered the men's department. He was happy to not have to catch the vibrant colors and patterns out of the sides of his eyes that turned his head towards the skirts, blouses, dresses and heels he passed by, nor the mannequins dressed in outfits he could only long for, but never sport so boldly. His eyes instead focused on the menswear before him. Instead of the hosiery he wanted, there was socks in all manners of colors and prints, but he was strictly a black or white man. John walked beyond them and onto the dress shirts section. They were all the standard fare that bored him to no end. They varied in color and whether some had buttons on the collars or not. John reached for a blue shirt. It was like many he had owned before it. John turned and caught a mirrored pillar out of the side of his eye. 'What's the point of this?' John wondered, questioning how many men ever checked their appearance in the mirror. John shrugged to himself as he stepped towards the mirror with the shirt. John held the shirt up and thought to himself, 'I wish I could do this just once with a dress.' A fantasy came into his mind that he was checking a dress against his curved build and skin tone. It was one that had played out in his mind on many nights. He peered around the store and noticed that no one was in earshot as he whispered to himself with a half-smile, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" John's jaw dropped when he saw the reflection staring back at him. His eyes widened as he saw the woman in the mirror reflecting his astonished stare and arm movements. His hand moved towards his face, except it was devoid of the hair that was always present. The woman was sporting the same haircut as him, except she had styled it with gel to make it a more playful pixie cut. The makeup on her face brought out all of John's most feminine features. It was more than he had ever been able to craft out of them in the past. The meager results he had managed in the past were enough to force him to try to recreate "her" again and again. This was something far beyond that though. His eyes moved down to the small pert breasts that were pushing out the bust of the pale pink dress that was decorated with a floral pattern of sequin pink gold. The fit-and-flare silhouetted dress hugged his trim, but slightly curvy form. The reflection was a far cry from the images he created using a snapchat app that tortured him with the images of the woman he felt he should have been born. Now, the face and body were unmistakably his. It was his build, his height, his weight, it was only the addition of makeup, gel, curves and mannerisms that made him seem any different. John went to speak his astonishment, but he could not find the words as his eyes focused on the shimmering, nude pantyhose covered legs and pointed toe, crisscross, strappy vamped, powder pink heels in the mirror, as well as the little black dress that was in "her" hands. He shook his head as he wondered, 'How can this be?' "Sir, are you okay?" a concerned voice broke John's stupor. John's head snapped towards the salesgirl. His eyes peered back at his reflection that was back to its normal, plain, masculine state. "No. I'm fine. I'm just looking," John replied with a forced smile while he tried to collect himself with a racing heart. "Okay. Well, if you need help with anything, just let me know." "Thank you," John replied while the girl turned her attention to other customers. John turned back towards the mirror and examined himself holding his male shirt again. John shook his head wondering, 'What the hell was that?' John's hands trembled as he approached the cashier and paid for the shirt. He feared for his sanity. He could not believe that his mind had played such a cruel trick on him. After stepping out of the store, John hurried to his car, desperate to forget about the woman in the mirror. The woman that he could never be. As he drove though, the image kept returning to him. He wondered if he was having a mental breakdown. It was like a severe psychiatric break that was over in a few moments. He was looking at himself, then something that could never be, then himself again. John pulled his car onto his street. The familiar Maple Street looked every bit the way he left it. John was relieved that there were no further hallucinations. There were no delusions that he was Christie Brinkley on a holiday road that could end in tragedy. He clasped his purchase and headed into the small ranch his wife had left him in their divorce decree. John stared around the home that was unbefitting of a bachelor. Many of his wife's feminine touches remained from the pastel colors to the decorations that she had left behind, no longer having any use for them in her new home and new life. While John felt that he should change it all, he knew that it would only reinforce his maleness. There was still an excuse for the small amount of femininity in his life, as long as he left things the way Victoria had deserted them. Once he hung up his new shirt, John turned and walked out of his bedroom. He went into his living room and turned on his television, desperate to try to forget the day's events. John lost himself in his familiar fantasies of wearing the types of clothing that the actresses were sporting on his television screen. He wished that he could have the types of girlfriends they had been given by their fiction writers. Instead, he was just a lonely man, living a solitary lifestyle on Maple Street. A suburban grave for all his feminine fantasies, surrounded by neighbors that would never understand or accept the hidden side of him. He closed his eyes on the couch and the image returned. He stood up in a fit. The image consumed him as he wondered what kind of mental breakdown he had suffered. He knew it was a hallucination, an illusion. If he knew that, he wondered how could it be a true break. The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. He pondered if it been a momentary lapse of sanity. His mind soon concluded that he may have been too stimulated by the beautiful clothing he had bypassed to process the dullness of an unexceptional man in menswear. 'You should make her happen,' a voice inside his head spoke with a practiced feminine tone John had not heard in nearly a decade. "Why?" John answered the question aloud. 'What do you have to lose by embracing her?' "Everything," John responded with a disgusted shake of his head, wanting nothing more than that to be anything but the truth he knew it to be. 'Is what you have worth it?' "No question," John answered as if it was self-evident. "Why?" John asked himself aloud, his voice reaching for the soft, higher pitch he had had spent so many hours practicing. John's hand reached for his mouth before he cast his eyes at the floor in disgust. He could not believe he had slipped into "her" tone again without deliberate effort on his part. That had always been a fear of his. Using "her" voice in his male guise. It was why he had stopped it when "she" began to grow into an outsized portion of his life. That was when he started dating again. He forced himself back into the dating pool, dating several girls before finding his way into Victoria's life. She was everything he could never be. She was glamourous, a girl taken to dressing to the nines for whatever reason or no reason. She dressed the way he felt he would, if he had been born a girl. He knew that fact was part of the reason that he ignored her obvious faults. She had been dismissive of him at times, even when they were dating. Her eyes were always in search of a bigger and better thing. He had felt it even before he had proposed to her. When she said yes, he was the envy of the men in his life. They could not believe that a computer programmer had managed to snare such a beautiful woman for his wife. If they knew how she was behind closed doors, he knew that their envy would soon dissipate into pity at best. Their sex life waned after marriage. John continued to pay the bills, while Victoria worked her way up in her company. By the end of their marriage, she was making more money than he was, but he still carried the load for paying for the home. "What the fuck is wrong with me?" John asked himself, feeling on the verge of tears as his wasted years with Victoria came back to him. 'You lived a lie,' the feminine voice answered, returning to his mind. "I had to do it." "No. You didn't," the voice spoke again through his lips. "What do you want from me?" "The truth," the voice demanded. "I can't handle the fucking truth," John admitted. "What's the lie gotten you?" "My life." "And what a life it is?" The voice replied with mocking sarcasm. "I'm going nuts," John groused to himself as he ran his hands along the sides of his head. "Why? Just because you want to be happy for a change." "Happiness? I'D BE SCORNED AND RIDICULED!" "By who?" "EVERYONE." "No one who matters." "I CAN'T LET MYSELF..." "Fight it," the feminine voice replied. "What's the point?" "Look at what being a man's gotten you. A bitch of an ex-wife that never really loved you? You were just a stepping stone." "Fuck her," John muttered to himself. "Some man is right now, but that man is not you." "FUCK YOU!" "Fuck you? You mean fuck me because I'm you," the voice mock lectured John through his lips again. "God damn it, Jackie, you're not me," John bellowed to himself. John froze as he spoke his feminine name for the first time in years. It was a name that he had never shared with anyone. It was a name he never spoke loudly for fear that someone would hear it through the walls. John stomped his foot at the level he had shouted it. "Don't get too worked up over it," Jackie counseled. "You would if you could understand." "I understand everything. We're not any different, you and I, just two sides of the same coin." "One side is just wrong," John replied. "Well...it ain't me." "What's that supposed to mean?" John asked himself. "I'm not the one that let a girl walk all over me. I'm not the one that threw out everything that made him happy just to pretend to be a normal guy. I'm not the one that chooses to live alone in the pathetic remains of the phony life he built with a pretty face that if he really admitted it, always knew he wanted to be more than he wanted be with." "I would be nothing like her," John countered his feminine voice. "I believe it." John paused before his feminine voice added, "All you need to do is let me out of you." "Jackie, I can't..." "You saw me today." "I saw something, but it wasn't you." "What did you see?" "Someone pretty. That's not me." "It can be." "It never was. Every time I tried, I always ended up looking like just a pathetic abortion of a woman." "You looked fine. You just couldn't see the beauty because you were too insecure." "INSECURE? I was being sane." "Insecurity kills all that is beautiful." "Don't get metaphysical on me!" "Someone needs to talk some sense to you." "SENSE! I've lost my fucking mind. This is psychiatric break 101. I'm having an argument with myself." "The part of yourself you deny! The part that you left sleeping, waiting for a beautiful new life." "So, what is this, self-pity, guilt? I just held it down until I couldn't keep you tied down in pink ribbons any longer?" John asked himself, growing angry. "No. I'm just telling you to take a look at your life and tell me that you're better off without Jackie?" John hung his head. He knew that he was miserable. He knew that his relationships were all failures, as was his attempts to pass himself off as a normal man. "I'm the voice that was in the back of your head. The one that you hid from all the girls you brought into your life. There were sweet girls. Not like Victoria. Ones that may have understood, but you just pushed them away until you found one as cold as what you forced yourself to be." "I was never that callous." "No. You were too spineless for that. Too afraid of losing something you never really had. You debased yourself for an illusion." "That's what you're asking me to do. You're just an illusion. A stupid fantasy that spilled into my line of sight for a split second." "You're asking yourself to do it," Jackie reminded John. "To remake myself into some hallucination?" John responded with a shake of his head. "Were you not captivated by me?" John paused before he admitted what he could not deny, "Yes." "Is there anything in this life you can't do without?" "No," John responded, feeling on the verge of tears. "Then, let me out." "How?" "Go buy the clothes you saw. Buy the makeup, buy the shoes, buy the razor. Do what you know you need to do to make me come alive outside of your head again." "How can I even recreate the outfit?" "Easy! You walked past everything you saw today. You saw them. You didn't want to because you knew what it meant. The longing inside of you put that outfit together on the fly." "Christ," John mumbled into his hands, believing the words to be true. John walked back towards his front door. He slipped his jacket back on and clutched his car keys. The chill of the December air made him shiver for a second before a feeling of internal warmth came over him as he remembered his mission. He was going to be Jackie again. At long last, he was going to let himself enjoy life. John rushed to the store and parked the car. While he had walked in before, now, he found himself jogging towards the door. He slowed down as he walked inside, making his way at a brisk pace as he moved towards the ladies' department that was still packed with female shoppers. John retraced his steps, knowing that the clothing would not be far from the main aisle he had walked down earlier that day. His eyes saw the sequin embroidered tulle dress immediately. He froze as he saw it. It was exactly as he pictured it in his mind's eye. John walked slowly to it and searched for the size that he had worn in his younger days. A smile came to his face as he saw the number 6. It was a number he knew most women would kill to fit in, even as his ex-wife advised him several times that she would kill herself if she let her size 2 body ever reach it. 'That's the one,' Jackie affirmed. 'I know,' John responded, this time only in his head. John took hold of the dress and started for the dressing room before he let out a small laugh that attracted some fleeting attention. The idea of walking into the dressing room as he looked with the dress made him think about the way that everyone in eyeshot would look at him. While he was ready to embrace Jackie again, he was not willing to do that. 'Yet,' Jackie noted in response to his thought. 'Ever,' John rejoined to his feminized self. John shook his head at his argumentative thoughts and proceeded to the shoe section. His eyes scanned the racks until he saw the pair of pumps that he had pictured on his feet that day. 'They're perfect,' John heard the male and female voices inside his head say in unison. 'Getting that in stereo,' John thought as he took hold of the shoe. 'We're, FINALLY, getting on the same page,' Jackie replied with a warm and playful tone. John nodded to himself as he bent down to search for a box in his size. John went passed the smaller sizes before he saw the one that would fit his feet. 'I bet Victoria would get a kick out of you in a ladies' size 10,' Jackie joked. 'She always told me I had girly, little feet,' John remembered, knowing that his ex-wife had meant it as a slight to his masculinity that never measured up to her ideal, no matter how hard he tried in vain to force himself to reach it. Stopping himself from trying on the pair, John clutched the box and started towards the intimates' section. John made his way through the store, getting some looks for the clothing he was carrying. Still, he knew that they were a fraction of the looks he would receive if it were not Christmas time. It was all a gift alright, he thought. It was just a gift for himself for once. As John entered the intimates' section, the veneer of his disguise wore off. John saw the tights clad mannequin legs and paused to find the color of pantyhose that he had visualized on him that day. John could sense the eyes of disgusted female shoppers upon him. He grew nervous as he looked through the packaging. 'Just ignore them and be you,' Jackie counseled. 'Easy for you to say,' John rejoined before a smile came to his face as he found the pair that he was searching for. The smile left his face when he caught another disgusted look shot in his direction. He wanted to drop everything and slink back home. 'You've come too far to back out now,' Jackie advised. 'I doubt that,' John responded. 'Don't keep letting people push you around,' Jackie pressed. John resolved to see his plan through. He could deal with the humiliations and tried to ignore the world while he walked over to the bra section and immediately found a light pink bra in the size he had selected for himself years earlier. With his selections in hand, John approached the cashier and began to hand over the garments. The salesclerk smiled as she looked over the dress and said, "She'll love it." John smiled at the salesclerk, certain that she was assuming the dress was for his wife. John nodded as he said, "I hope so." The salesclerk smiled back as John handed over the shoes. John could see her getting a little bit more certain that the outfit was not for a girl as he handed item after item to her. John paid the girl as he packaged his items up into shopping bags. She gave him a cheerful "Happy Holidays" as she sent him on his way, careful to not let her judgment of him come through. With the bag in hand, John headed to the jewelry section he had walked through and went to the junk jewelry that always caught his eye. The cheap jewelry was all he ever wanted to wear. It was bigger and prettier than the real stuff that he could afford. John picked out a necklace and a pair of clip-on earrings and approached the register. Once the last barcode was scanned, John paid the girl with a smile on his face. He could not wait to put it all on. He wanted to do it at that exact moment, but knew that it was too early yet. There was too much prep work left that would spoil the illusion of femininity he wanted to disport as Jackie. John hurried out of the store and to a neighboring drug store. John went inside and perused the various cosmetics, looking for the exact colors that matched what he had seen on Jackie's face. John felt more solitude in the less crowded store. Unlike the department store, there were no pushy, smiling salesgirls to descend upon him with judging eyes while they tried to make a sale. Here, there were only a few passing figures who's faces John avoided, knowing what he would read on them. After selecting the lip stick that looked closest to Jackie's, John grabbed a lady's razor and started towards the cashier. John could see the man's confusion turn to disgust as he processed John's payment for the various cosmetics and toiletries. 'Don't pay him any mind,' Jackie counseled as John squirmed in the face of the man's silent disdain. "Have a good night," the man forced himself to say. "You too," John replied in Jackie's voice, prompting the man's expression to change to visible disgust. John laughed to himself as he walked out of the store. He felt oddly free while he sauntered through the parking lot before he started home. John drove as fast as he could without drawing police attention before he pulled into his driveway. He raced inside his home with his purchases and locked the door behind him. "I hope you're ready, Jackie." "Whenever you are," she answered. John smiled to himself as he headed towards the bathroom with his razor. John disrobed and glared down at his male body with disgust. He hated the sight of the hair on it. It always made him turn his nose, but he had long ago given up on the idea of doing something about it. It was there by necessity, but he was no longer of that mindset. He was ready to live without it, no matter the consequences. If he could be alone with it, he could live alone without it. Jackie made for better company than himself anyway. John turned on the shower and stepped into it. He felt the warm water wash over him and felt good, even as his hands hesitated to clasp the razor. He knew that he had to do it. It was necessary to bring Jackie back into his life. It also meant that any chance of a relationship with a woman would be put off until it grew back, if he ever let it again. With no prospects on the horizon, John felt that foregoing the sliver of a chance was a sacrifice worth making. John lathered up his legs with soap before he drew the blades across them. The sight of the pink razor running down his legs was both odd and familiar to John. It had been so long since he had done it, but it all came back to him. Every stroke brought back memories of the first time his legs had regained their prepubescent smoothness. The frustration that came with the need to keep cleaning the razor blades after every stroke was the only thing that reminded John that it had been far too long since he had last shaved his legs. The process continued as he dragged the razor across his chest and stomach before proceeding to his armpits and forearms. Once he finished shaving himself, John stepped out of the shower. As the bathroom light bathed down on his hairless body, John smiled at the effect it had on his form. His long, thin frame seemed waif like in the absence of body hair. His build had resulted in bullying during his youth for its natural effeminacy. It was something that Victoria had used to shame him with his inadequacies as a male in her eyes. John knew that he had let her use it to keep him in line. Never demanding of her, never questioning of her, he had been just another tool in her arsenal until he was replaced by something she felt was better and more deserving of her. He did not need her anymore. He was happy to be rid of her. At the moment, he preferred looking at his thin body that made his 5'8" frame look longer. He knew that the heels would make it seem even more so. After reaching for his towel, John patted his hairless body dry. His hands lingered on his smooth skin, whenever he could. The silky feeling made his manhood stir. It always had given him mixed emotions. The pleasure mixed with deep shame. Now, the shame was cast aside at Jackie's direction. It was nothing but a pleasure now. Something John had never experienced before. John pulled his hands away from his legs, knowing that he was lingering for an excessive amount of time on his smooth body while he dried himself. As he finished, he wrapped a towel around his body and tied it under his armpits despite having no one around from which to hide anything, nor breasts to conceal beneath it. Strolling out of his bathroom, John headed into his bedroom to get dressed. A grin lingered on John's face as he dropped his towel and reached for his package of hosiery. After carefully opening the package, John took hold of his pantyhose with his fingertips and took a seat upon the edge of his bed, forcing his member between his legs as he did so. John could remember the exact day he last rolled down a pair of pantyhose. It was something he had done many times before, but that had been so long ago. "How did I live without this?" John asked himself as he began to carefully step into them and unroll them over his newly smooth legs. The familiar sensations climbing his legs brought an intense feeling of pleasure to him. It was more pleasurable than anything he could remember experiencing with Victoria. John cursed himself, wishing that he could tell her that she was never worth as much as a pair of nylons to him, but she was somebody else's problem now. John moaned as he continued to feel the sensations climbing his legs. He felt his manhood expanding between his cheeks and struggling as it pressed against the bed, constraining its growth. The feeling made John blush. While he loved the sensation of arousal, he hated the constant reminder of his maleness that it brought. John finished bringing the nude pantyhose over his legs before he stood up and shimmied the waistband into place. His hand then reached down to smooth the pantyhose over his flat groin. The smile stayed on his face while he felt his continued erection as he moved his hands towards his nylon covered rear. John joked to himself, "It's just the fabric I swear." The fiction that it was the feeling of the fabric alone or the similarity to what he felt on a girl that caused his arousal was something he was ready to discard. This was him. He loved nylon, the feelings it caused him and the way it helped him feel about himself. After reaching for his bra, John moved his arms through the straps before he gripped the clasps as he pulled them behind his back. John struggled to arch his back and hook the bra. He knew that he could cheat as he had when he was younger, but after spending so many hours over the years practicing how to put a bra on like a woman, he could not let himself do so. He knew it would not take long for it to come back to him. A squeal of satisfaction came out of John as he hooked his bra. John shook his hips from side to side in a slight celebratory dance before he went to his dresser to remove socks to stuff his bra. While he would have preferred the breast forms he once had, he knew that he had to make the best of what was available to him until the opportunity arose to get a new pair. Once he was done with stuffing both cups, John began to adjust the bra straps. He snugged them up against his body, making sure that they were tight enough to hold everything in place without pressing too tightly into his shoulders. He wanted to feel the bra straps, to ensure that he always remembered what he was wearing, but he did not want to be uncomfortable. Finishing his bra adjustments, John caught sight of the full-length mirror Victoria had left behind. John ambled towards it, feeling his pantyhose covered feet pressing down on the cool, hardwood floor with each step. The flat front excited him as much as the obvious stuffed cups deflated him. He shook his head and said, "I just don't see it, Jackie." 'Just you wait.' "Cat got your tongue?" John asked as the voice had remained in his head this time. 'Good girls know when to wait,' Jackie retorted. Turning away from the mirror, John turned his attention to his dress. He moved towards the bag and pulled it out. He lifted it over his head, slipped his arms through the short sleeves and pulled the dress down. As the dress descended over his body, John ran his fingers along the dress's fitted princess seams and pulled at the hem of the dress's full pleated skirt that rested over his knees. Once his hands pulled away, they reached for the hidden rear zipper. The sound of the zipping made John's manhood stir, knowing that he was encasing himself further in his long-denied femininity. John returned to the mirror and grinned at what he saw from the neck down while he continued to fuss with his dress. His fingers ran along the jewel neckline as he stood shocked by how perfectly his mind had imagined how his body would look in the dress with the slightest padding. John cocked his neck as he turned and looked at the button-keyhole back before he stuck out his hip and saw how his slightly large butt pushed out at the fit-and-flare silhouetted dress. The pink gold embroidered tulle shimmered in the light in his bedroom. John loved the way it sparkled on him and the attention it would get if he was able to wear it as it was designed to be worn. He could not wait to put on the shoes to elongate his legs. He turned and walked towards the bag and removed the shoe box. He lifted the lid and removed the 3.3 inch heeled, powder pink, suede pumps. John put them on the floor and braced himself against the wall while he slipped his left foot into the pumps. He tied to self-tie at the backstay securing the crisscross over his ankle before repeating the process with the right. John smiled down at the sight of his feet in the pointed toe, d'Orsay silhouette heels again before he scampered back to the mirror. John's hand reached behind his neck as he rocked forward on his heels. He could not believe how he looked in the pumps. The resemblance to the girl in the mirror was uncanny from everything below his neck. "You may just pull this off," John mused aloud. "Glad to hear your coming over to my side," Jackie noted aloud. "I'm all in," John replied, consciously using Jackie's voice. John turned on his heels and strolled away from the mirror and out of his bedroom. His pumps clicked on the wood floor of the hallway before he made his way into his bathroom to apply his makeup. John started with black eye shadow to contrast with his dress before proceeding to add eyeliner and mascara to further add color around his eyes. John then put away the mascara before he moved onto painting his lips a shade of pink that echoed his dress. Once he finished putting on his makeup, John turned his attention to his hair. John took hold of his gel and ran his fingers through his short hair. He dressed it up as best he could until he got the messy page boy look that he pictured on his head in the store. "Maybe it's time to grow it out," John mused to himself while he styled his hair until it was perfect. John blinked his eyes in astonishment that his face looked the spitting image of the way he imagined it in the store. He closed his eyes and hurried back into his bedroom to retrieve the last pieces of his outfit. John felt butterflies in this stomach as he reached for his new jewelry. His hands shook as he took hold of the tennis necklace comprised of graduating, round-cut cubic zirconia stones hand-set in three prongs, with the largest stone at the center point. He slipped it on around his neck, but he found his fingers fumbling with his every attempt to lock the clasp behind his neck. After what felt to him the thousandth failed try, John succeeded before he reached for the clip-on earrings. John furrowed his brow at the sight of the rhodium-plated brass earrings that framed their large cubic zirconia centers. "This is the last time I wear these," John affirmed in his feminine tone, resolute in his decision to pierce both of his ears the next day. John clasped each earring on before he turned back to the mirror. He wanted to be sure that everything he felt looking in the mirror in the bathroom matched what he would see all in one place in the bedroom. He meandered towards the mirror with a slight hesitation. His jaw dropped as he gazed vacantly at the mirror image reflecting the woman he had seen in the store. The image captivated John. He could not believe what he had created out of himself. He spun on his heels with a laugh before he smiled back at his reflection and pressed his right palm into the side of his face. Dropping his hand, he clasped his left as he cupped them in front of his waist and bent as he loudly inquired in his most feminine tone, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" The giggle that punctuated his question caught him off guard. He brought his hand over his mouth before he began to laugh at his reaction. It was a perfectly normal reaction. He knew that he was not the fairest of them all, but he was certainly closer to it than he ever could imagine being. The sound of the doorbell chimes brought reality crashing back upon John. John's heart raced as he knew that he must ignore whoever was at his door. There was no time to change back into John. In truth, there was no desire either. John smiled to himself as he turned on his heels and started to sashay through his home. Part of his mind ordered him to stop in his tracks. The clicks of his heels on the floor, however, continued on. The voice inside that had told him to hide his feminized self was pushed back for once. It had always been his greatest fear to be caught en femme; it would show the world his true colors, which were far from that of an acceptable man. It all did not matter to him anymore. This was him, in all his girlish truth. He knew what was expected of him, how he was supposed to be, but this is what he felt he was born to be. He tried and failed at the former, the latter was the only option left. John's eyes caught the time on the clock out of the corner of his left eye. It was precisely 6:43 P.M. and he did not care about the world anymore. John heard his heels continue to click on the floor as he moved towards the door. He felt his heart race as he kept his head up, proud of who he was a that moment. He did not pause to peer out the window to try to surmise who was at his door. It did not matter to him. If they had a problem with him as he was, it was their issue, not his. He felt that Jackie had finally become stronger than John. From this moment on, he resolved to be Jackie and only Jackie. With a quick movement, Jackie drew the door open and peered outside with a smile. Her eyes widened as she saw Mary staring back at her. Mary peered at her ex-boyfriend with an inquisitive glance. She examined Jackie's features as Jackie stared back at the face John had once loved. Jackie was silent, unsure of what to do or say. It had been John that ended the relationship once he realized that Mary was getting too close to his truth. Now, that truth was out in the open and being lived. "So, this is the bitch who stole my boyfriend's heart?" Mary inquired with raised eyebrows. Jackie was confused by her statement. Jackie could not believe that Mary had not recognized her as she went to defend herself, "I..." Mary grinned as she said with a laugh, "Aren't you going to invite me in, gorgeous?" "Sure," Jackie replied as she stood to the side, surprised that the inner warmth she remembered in the girl was still displayed when she caught him in what John had feared would be his most embarrassing state. "I like you better this way," Mary noted while she stepped inside with a smile, looking Jackie over from head to toe as she did so. "Me too," Jackie responded, closing the door behind her.