by

Monica F. Helms

            “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” announced the minister.  “You may kiss the bride.”

            Mathew Greenly lifted the veil from Heidi’s face and kissed his beautiful young wife.

            During the first few months of marriage, everything on the surface appeared all right.  But, Mathew harbored a well-hidden secret that gnawed at him from the day they started dating.  He knew, by the nature of his secret, he would have to tell Heidi eventually, or risk her finding out by accident.

            Mathew decided one evening to fix Heidi a romantic dinner to put her in a receptive mood.  To make everything perfect, he took a day off from work so he could clean the house and prepare the meal.  His efforts paid off when she walked through the door.

            “You’re such a thoughtful husband!” she cried.  Then, she hugged and kissed him.  “Why did you do all of this?”

            “To show you how much I love you.”

(Break)

            Heidi threw her arms around Mathew’s neck and kissed him again.

            For over an hour they ate, drank and laughed as if they had no worries in the world.  As far as Heidi knew, they did not.

            Mathew realized he could not wait much longer.  The time finally arrived for him to tell Heidi the secret he kept had hidden for so long.  He reached across the table and began stroking her hand.  “Sweetheart.  I have to tell you something, but it’s very hard to say.”

            “What is it, honey?  You can tell me anything.  You know that.”

            “That’s true, but this is something too difficult to discuss with anyone . . . even you.”

            Heidi’s smooth brow wrinkled.  She pushed her long blond hair behind her ears.

            Mathew found it difficult getting the words out, but he could not turn back.  “Heidi, ever since I was a teenager . . . I’ve had . . . a desire . . . to . . . wear women’s clothes.”  There, I said it.  Now for the reaction.  She’s stunned.  He continued.  “I don’t know what caused it.  No one does.  On top of that, there’s no way I could ever stop.  I’ve read up on the subject and seen several talk shows, so I know this isn’t such a bad thing.”

            Heidi seemed visibly upset.  “So tell me, does this mean you’re gay?”

            “Not in the least.  There’s no connection between this and my sexual orientation.  In fact, the idea of making love to a man makes me ill.  I just enjoy dressing up as a woman.”

            “Do you want to become a woman?”

            “No.  Never.  I like being a man.  Crossdressing is just another side of my personality.”

            Heidi jumped out of her chair.  “I refuse to believe this!  If it was true, you would have told me before we were married.”

            “Several times I tried, but I couldn’t find the words.  Fear kept me from telling you.  This is something hard for people to understand.”

            “You can say that, again!”  Heidi sat again.  “Okay.  You’ve told me.  Now that we’re married, you won’t want to do it anymore, right?”

            “No.  This isn’t something I can turn off and on like a switch.  Like I said, it’s a part of my personality.  I hoped you would be a bit more understanding.”

            “Well, I’m not.  This whole thing disgusts me!  The idea of a man in a dress is stupid.  I didn’t even like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie.  Don’t let me see you whenever you plan on dressing like that.”

            “Can I ask you one favor?”

            “What?”

            “Since you and I are about the same size, could I borrow some of your clothes?”

            Heidi’s eyes turned red and her jaw dropped.  “WHAT?  You’ve got to be kidding me!  If I ever . . . EVER catch you wearing anything of mine, I will make the rest of your life a living hell!  Don’t worry, I won’t ask for a divorce.  I made a vow to stay ‘until death do us part’.  That’s what I plan on doing.  For your part, you’ll have to stop dressing like a woman, or even death won’t protect you from my anger.  Am I clear?”

            Mathew shook his head and decided to drop the subject.  I refuse to believe the woman I married has such a closed mind.  Crossdressing never hurt anyone.  She acts like I want to live my life as a woman.  I only want to dress up a couple of times a month.  That’s all.

            They did not make love that night.

———-

            Heidi soon forgot the night she learned about Mathew’s hidden activity.  However, he always kept that evening in the back of his mind, especially when trying on his female clothes.  Their work schedules gave him several opportunities to do so and occasionally, he tried on some of Heidi’s outfits, even though she expressly forbids it.

            One afternoon, when Heidi worked late, Mathew decided to “dress-up” again.  Walking into the back bedroom closet, he pulled out the big suitcase that held all of his woman’s clothing and makeup.  Suddenly, an overwhelming desire to try on Heidi’s new dress came over him after he donned his padded underwear.  If I’m cautious, she’ll never find out I wore it.

            Mathew slipped into the main bedroom like an experienced cat burglar stalking the Hope diamond.  Pulling the dress out of the closet, he carefully noted where and in what direction it originally hung.  He could hardly wait to slip the beautiful garment over his head.

            Once on, Mathew pulled up the zipper in the back and adjusted his fake breasts.  The silky material of the dress felt wonderful against his skin and looked even better in the mirror.  Wanting to see it from every angle, he posed in several positions, transfixed by his reflection.  Crossdressing’s euphoric effect on Mathew felt like a powerful drug.

            While Mathew admired how he looked in the mirror, Heidi stepped into the room, home early from work.  “What are you doing?” she screamed.  “That’s my new dress you have on, dammit!”  Turning, she rushed out of the house and jumped into her car.

            Mathew stood in shock, hearing Heidi burn rubber as she pulled away from the house.  “Oh, Shit!  I screwed this up, royally!”  He quickly dressed in his own clothes and ran out to find his wife.  She couldn’t have gone far, he thought.

            Driving around, he stopped at all of the places she would have run to, but could not find her.

            After an hour, Mathew decided to drive back home and wait for Heidi to return.  Approaching the house, he drove by a police barricade and saw a horrible accident between a car and a pickup.  He slowly passed the scene, mesmerized by the twisted wreckage.  As he viewed the destruction, something familiar caught his eye.

            Mathew suddenly jammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car screaming.  “Heidi!  Heidi!”  The badly mangled car in the accident belonged to his wife.

            A police officer stopped him from going very far.  “Hold on there, mister.  You can’t go over there.”

            “It’s my wife!  That’s her car!”  Mathew hollered hysterically.

            “Are you a Mr. Greenly?”

            “YES!”

            “Calm down, please.  I’ll have an officer take you to the hospital.”

            “Is she going to be all right?” His hands felt clammy and cold sweat poured from his brow.

            “You must go down to the hospital and ask the doctors.  I don’t have that information available to me.”

            “How did she look when they took her away?”

            “You have to speak to the doctors.”

            Another police officer came over and escorted Mathew to a squad car.

———-

            Heidi’s funeral service twisted the emotions of her friends and family members.  Mathew cried throughout, especially when his father-in-law stepped up to the podium and spoke.  Self-blame compounded the pain Mathew felt for his loss.  Believing he caused her death, the guilty feeling would haunt him for the rest of his life.  Often, following that horrible day, Mathew wished the accident happened to him instead of her.

            In spite of the losses Fate heaps on people, they eventually recover.  For Mathew, that recovery took several months.  He finally returned to work, determined to put everything behind him, including his crossdressing.

            Six months after Heidi’s death, Mathew sat at home watching television when an overwhelming urge to dress up as a woman came over him.  Even a major tragedy could not cure him of his desires.  The thought of dressing-up again made him deathly afraid, but at the same time, exhilarated.  He realized that no one would be around to walk in on him, so he could do whatever he wanted.  That included wearing any of Heidi’s clothes, which he never gave away.

            I can’t dress up, Mathew thought.  That’s what killed Heidi in the first place.  But, wait!  A drunk driver killed her.  She wasn’t even moving at the time.  He attempted to justify his feelings.  Except, she wouldn’t have been out on the road if it wasn’t for me.

            Mathew heard someone say, “Just do it!”  Then he noticed the Nike commercial on the television.

            “Thanks.  I think I will.”

            Into the master bedroom Mathew marched, straight to the dresser, opened the top drawer and removed all the underclothes he needed, including a bra that belonged to Heidi.  Next, he pulled out from the closet one of her best evening dresses, one with a very short skirt.  After showering and shaving his body hair, he then meticulously applied his makeup.  When finished, he slipped into the dress and placed a beautifully-styled, long-haired wig on his head.  His reflection in the full length mirror surprised and stunned him.  In all of the years of crossdressing, I’ve never looked this good!

            “You should go out,” Mathew blurted.  The sudden outburst surprised him, but he decided the idea sounded good.  Only a dozen times in his life had he gone out dressed as a woman and only twice at night.  He never felt very confidence in his appearance when dressed “en femme.”

            Mathew packed necessary items in a purse, such as makeup, money and ID, then jumped into his car.  Where should I go?  I know of this gay bar not too far from here.  I should be safe there.  At least they don’t mind if a man shows up dressed as a woman.

            Fully intending on driving to the gay night club, Mathew traveled in that direction.  A mile away from the location, he felt the sudden urge to pull into the parking lot of a popular straight dance club.

            Why did I do this?  I’m sure someone will “read” me if I go in there.  “Go in there.”  What?  But . . . I do look very convincing.  It would be a kick to go in and get treated like any other woman.  I’ll only stay a short time.  No need to take any unnecessary chances.

            Mathew stepped out of the car, adjusted his skirt and strolled up to the front door just as any other woman would do in the same situation.  For some reason, he suddenly gained a great deal of confidence in himself, so much so that the man checking IDs at the door let him pass without even glancing up.

            The loud dance music pulsated through Mathew’s body, as he walked in his four-inch heels through the club.  Men stared at him as he swished by, sizing him up just like they did to any other woman.  No one gave him the “I-know-who-you-are” look that all crossdressers dread.

            After finding an empty seat near the back of the club, Mathew sat and ordered a Coke.  He did not want to take any chances by being pulled over for drunk driving, especially dressed as a woman.

            When the waitress came back with the drink, she remarked, “That’s a really pretty dress you’re wearing.”

            “Thank you.”

            “Where did you buy it?”

            Mathew felt nervous.  “Penney’s had a sale last year.  I was lucky they had this one in my size.”

            “Well, you won’t have any trouble attracting men in that dress tonight.”  She smiled and walked away.

            I wonder what she meant by that?  Did she read me and was being facetious?  He had little time to ponder her remark, because at that moment a muscular man stepped up to his table.

            “Would you care to dance?” he asked.

            He looks rather attractive, Mathew thought.  What am I thinking?  “I suppose so.”  The words coming from his mouth shocked him.  Standing, he followed the man to the dance floor.  Why am I doing this?  I’m supposed to be heterosexual!  I only like women, yet here I am, dancing with a man.  Well, at least it’s not a slow one.

            Unfortunately for Mathew, the DJ played a slow song next.  Upon hearing the beat change, Mathew turned to walk back to his seat.  The man took hold of his hand and gently persuaded him to come back.

            “Just this one, please.”

            “All right.”  Mathew found himself not wanting to resist.

            “My name is Tim.  What’s yours?”

            “Heidi.”  Heidi?  Why in the hell did I use her name?  I suppose it’ll work as good as any other.  At least I won’t have any trouble remembering it.

            “I like that name, Heidi.”  Tim pulled Mathew closer.

            At first, Mathew felt uncomfortable, but as the dance continued, he began to enjoy himself.  Am I bisexual?  I have never had any tendencies toward that in my life.  Why, suddenly, do I find myself attracted to a man and enjoying his attention?

            In spite of his worry, Mathew spent the rest of the evening dancing and “flirting” with Tim, savoring every minute of it.  He acted as natural as any woman would in the same situation, which worried him a little.  Occasionally, he would tell himself not to feel afraid.  When Tim asked him questions about “Heidi’s” personal life, Mathew answered as Heidi would have.

            As the last dance of the evening ended, Tim looked into Mathew’s eyes.  “Heidi, may I walk you out to your car?”

            “I would like that,” Mathew found himself saying.

            They strolled out of the club holding hands.

            Upon reaching the car and the infamous “awkward moment,” Tim quickly decided he needed no permission to give Mathew a goodnight kiss, based on “signals” he received throughout the evening.  He gently pulled Mathew close and gave him a long, tender kiss.  Feeling surprised at first, Mathew quickly found it very pleasurable.

            A minute later, they separated.  “Is it possible I could call you sometimes?” asked Tim.

            “I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” replied Mathew.  Tim looked saddened.  “But, I can take your number and call you.”  Why did I say that?

            “I won’t mind that at all.”

            Mathew found a piece of paper and a pen in his purse.  After writing the number on the paper, the two kissed again, separated and headed home.

            During the entire trip home, Mathew could only think about the wonderful time he spent as a woman, and with Tim.  He vowed to do it again next weekend.  “Maybe I’ll even call Tim,” he said aloud, clutching the phone number tightly in his hand.

            When Mathew arrived home, he removed his makeup and clothes.  As he placed the last piece of clothing on the bed, a horrible feeling began building up inside his stomach.  He barely made it to the toilet before throwing up.

            What in the hell was I doing tonight?  I was dancing and acting like a real woman, even going to the lady’s room three times without anyone ever noticing.  I must have passed better than I thought.  Oh my god!  I kissed another man . . . and I liked it!

            Mathew leaned over the toilet bowl.  Recovering from his shock, he took Tim’s phone number and pitched it into the bathroom trash.

———-

            For the rest of the week, Mathew avoided wearing any of his woman’s clothes, even to bed.  However, as the weekend approached, he began feeling the desire increase.  When Friday finally arrived, he could not contain himself much longer.  Breaking several speed limits along the way, he rushed home from work to quickly transform himself into “Heidi.”

            With his makeup carefully applied, Mathew selected another sexy outfit from Heidi’s closet.  The reflection in the mirror boosted his confidence level through the roof.  He felt as if he “slipped” into a woman’s body when slipping on the dress.

            Mathew stood, admiring his handiwork, then remembered something important.  Hurrying into the bathroom, he dumped the trash onto the floor and began rummaging through the discarded paper until he found what he desperately wanted, Tim’s phone number.

            The phone rang three times before a man answered.  “Hello.”

            “Is this Tim?”

            “Yes.  Who’s this?”

            “Heidi.  We met last Saturday night at the Bay Club.”

            “Oh!  Yes!  How could I forget?  To be honest, I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again.”

            “What do you mean, silly?  This is the Nineties.  A woman can call a man if she wants to.”

            “I know.  I like it when they do.”

            “Do you want to get together tonight?” asked Mathew.  He twirled the hair on his long wig with his index finger.

            “Sure.  I’ll tell you what.  Why don’t we meet at this nice little restaurant I know of down on Central?  From there, we can go back to the Bay Club.”

            “I’d love that.  I’ll see you in a half hour.”

            Dressed as Heidi, Mathew spent a wonderful evening with Tim.  They started with an elegant meal, followed by a night of dancing really close, holding hands and kissing.  Mathew experienced the entire evening as if watching it on a movie, and felt powerless to stop.  Everything happened to him, but he could not control the events.

            Toward the end of the evening, Tim leaned over and whispered, “How’s about we leave?”

            No!  I don’t want to! insisted Mathew, in his mind.  However, his mouth could only say, “Okay.  Where do you want to go?”

            “How about my place?”

            No! screamed Mathew, but the word never reached his lips.  Instead, he whispered, “I’d love to.”

            “We’ll take my car, unless you want to follow me in yours.”

            “Let’s do that.”  At least I’m saying something sensible, thought Mathew.  He desperately tried to resist leaving, but could not.  An unseen force seemed to control of his actions and his body.  Going to Tim’s house is a huge mistake, but I can’t seem to stop it.

            While Mathew followed Tim in his car, he kept thinking.  How am I going to get out of this mistake?  Everything he tried failed.  Whatever controlled his body wanted to rush headlong to self-destruction.  I hope nothing will happen at Tim’s apartment, but I’m not holding out much hope.

            Tim’s place appeared much like any stereotypical-male abode, with dirty dishes in the sink, Playboy and Sports Illustrated piled on the coffee table and a generous coating of thick dust on the furniture.  At least I keep my home in order ever since Heidi died.  She trained me well in our short marriage.

            “Can I get you a soda?” asked Tim.

            Yes!  Please!  “No, thank you.”  Damn!

            Taking Mathew by the hand, Tim brought him close.

            Mathew wanted to stay still, but not his body.

            They gently pressed their lips together.

            Mathew tried pulling away the entire time.

            Tim placed his arms around Mathew’s waist, who responded by putting his arms around Tim’s neck.  The entire time they kissed, Mathew kept screaming inside to get out.

            Before long, they moved to the couch where Tim began groping Mathew’s body.  Whoever or whatever controlled him enjoyed every second of it.

            Reaching around Tim tugged at Mathew’s dress zipper without any resistance.  Mathew helped by sitting up and pulling the dress off of his shoulders.

            Tim leaned close and whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  I know you’re really a man.  I don’t mind one bit.  I’m bi.”

            What?  “You are?  I’m so happy to hear that.”  WHAT?  “That’ll make this evening more enjoyable.”  For whom?  “How did you know?” Yeah, how?

            “Oh, little things.  It doesn’t matter.  We’re here now.  We still have a wonderful night ahead of us.”

            “Do you have protection?” Well!  That’s the first sensible thing I’ve said all night.

            “No.  I don’t use rubbers.  They’re no fun.  Besides . . .” Tim unzipped and pulled down his pants.  “. . . do you really want me to?”

            Mathew stared, unable to say a word–inside or out.  He expected that whoever controlled his body would have him reach out to touch Tim, but that never happened.  Instead, Mathew stood and pulled the dress back onto his shoulders.

            “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take any chances with someone who isn’t careful, no matter how cute he looks.”  I agree with that . . . all but the last part.  Pull your pants up, you stupid idiot!  Nothing’s happening tonight–or forever, for that matter.

            “Wait one damn minute here!  You owe me, missy!”  Tim shoved Mathew down on the couch, hard.  “And I intend to collect!”

            Tim moved closer and when he came within reach, Mathew shot his knee up, right into Tim’s exposed crotch.  He crumpled to the floor in agony.

            See, I told you to pull your pants up, Mathew quipped.  He rushed to the door.

            Once at home, Mathew began tearing off the dress and underclothes without any regard to their condition.  At least now, he could control some of his actions.  Again, like the previous Saturday night, he spent a great deal of time in the bathroom, slumped over the toilet bowl.

            “Damn it!  What’s happening to me?” yelled Mathew, as he finished wiping his mouth.  “Why can’t I control myself?  I was almost raped!  Who’s doing this to me?” He would not have been surprised if someone answered.

            That night, Mathew tossed and turned, never really getting much sleep.

———-

            For the rest of the week, Mathew felt like a nervous wreck his entire waking hours.  Arriving late for work, he could not get much done, then took long breaks and lunches.  His concentration dwindled.  He could only think about dressing as a woman again, especially in his deceased wife’s clothes.  Successfully resisting the urge throughout the week, he broke down Friday.

            I really don’t want to do this, he thought to himself, while applying makeup.  I can stop anytime.  He reached down and grabbed the lipstick.  I can just go to bed and fall asleep if I want.  His hand applied the bright red color.  I’m stopping!  Next, he thickened his lashes with dark brown mascara.

            After completing his makeup, Mathew walked into Heidi’s closet and pulled out another one of her sexy dresses.

            “I . . . will . . . not . . . do . . . this!”  Mathew desperately struggled for control of his body, a struggle he could not win.

            When Mathew finished dressing, he packed his purse and walked to the car.  I wonder where I’m going tonight?

            “To the Bay Club.”

            What?

            “The Bay Club.”

            But, what if I run into Tim?

            “So what.  We’re going there to have fun.”

            Wait a minute!  Who the hell are you?

            “You don’t need to know.”

            Bullshit!  You’re the one controlling my body, aren’t you?

            “In a way.”

            Now what kind of answer is that?  In what way are you in control?

            “Through the manifestation of your desires.”

            My desires?

            “Your desires to dress as a woman.”

            What do you mean?  My “desires,” as you call them, have never been that great, until recently.  But, there has to be more.  Who are you, really?

            “You will receive your answer if you look into a mirror.”

            Mathew pulled down the visor to reveal the vanity mirror but could not see much in the dark.  Then he remembered the mirror’s two small lights on either side, so he flipped the switch, illuminating his face.

            NO!

            Stunned by what he saw, Mathew forgot all about his driving.  Without even knowing, he swerved into oncoming traffic.

———-

            Where am I?  A hospital, maybe?  I can smell the antiseptic in the air.  That must mean I’m alive, unless this is how Heaven smells . . . or Hell.

            Why can’t I see?  Wait!  There’s light around the edges.  Bandages.  I can’t move.  I can’t move!  I’m paralyzed!  But my toes are moving.  Phantom signals, perhaps.  I’ve heard of them.

            “Oh.  You’re finally awake.”  Mathew could hear a woman’s voice.  “I guess I can remove those bandages from your eyes now.”

            He felt a soft hand on his face, then the bandages came off.  Images around him looked fuzzy at first, but the room soon became clearer.  Yes.  I’m definitely in a hospital.

            “It seems you were lucky,” remarked the woman in a white coat.  “You only had minor cuts and abrasions from the accident.  The airbag and seatbelts saved your life in the head-on collision.  When another car rammed you from the back, which knocked you out.”

            Mathew looked up at the woman, still in a daze.  Control started returning to his limbs.  He sat up.

            “I’m Dr. Wesley.”

            “How long . . .” He could barely talk.

            “How long have you been out?  Only a day.  You can probably go home tomorrow.”

            “Bathroom?” whispered Mathew.

            “It’s over there,” pointed the doctor.

            Mathew slowly climbed out of bed.

            “I don’t know if you remember me,” continued Dr. Wesley.

            He stopped.  She does look familiar.  I think she unsuccessfully tried to save Heidi several months ago.  He smiled and shook his head.

            “You do remember.”  The doctor sat.  “I thought it was strange to see you in a car accident so soon after your loss.”

            Mathew walked slowly toward the bathroom.  He felt strange, as if his body refused to work properly, or his center of gravity had shifted.

            The doctor continued.  “I mean, when a person loseWeight Exercises a spouse in an auto accident, they tend to be more careful from then on.  I’m glad you didn’t have as bad of one as your . . .”

            A bloodcurdling scream echoed from the bathroom.

            The doctor jumped up and rushed in.

            Mathew tore off the flimsy hospital gown, threw it onto the floor and stared in disbelief at the reflection in the mirror.  He saw–mouth gaping open–the familiar body and face of his deceased wife, Heidi.

            What happened to me?  Mathew asked.

            I changed everything, replied Heidi.

            Changed?  Changed what?

            Do you remember when you were looking for me after I ran out of the house?

            Yes.

            With a little help, I changed history.  You had the horrible accident on the way home from your search.  Didn’t I once say that death couldn’t keep you away from my anger?  Now we can be together forever.  In this way, you can also fulfill your fantasy of being a woman.

            But, I don’t want to be a woman!

            I’m sorry, darling.  It’s too late.  You don’t have a choice.

            “Are you all right, Mrs. Greenly?” asked the doctor.

            Tell her you are, sweetheart.

— THE END —

FEMALE TROUBLE

       “I don’t care if you’re having problems at home!  I want you to make it to work on time, or you’re out of here!” hollered Alvin.  The woman sitting across from him shuttered.  “Now, send in Robert and get back to work!”
       Jumping to her feet, the woman rushed out of the cubicle.  A minute later, a man stepped in.
       “Sit, Bob.  So, you were a little late today, weren’t you?”  Alvin sounded less angry with Bob.
       “Yes, I’m sorry.  My alarm didn’t go off, so I over slept.  It won’t happen again.  Believe me.”
       “That’s okay.  It happens occasionally.  Just be a little more careful next time, all right?”
       “I will.  You can be sure of that.”
       “Okay, go back to work.”
       Robert stood up and walked out.
       Alvin Price worked as a supervisor for a major long distance phone company, located in Phoenix, Arizona.  He did little to hide his chauvinistic attitude toward women.  To prevent himself from getting in trouble at work, he attempted to keep his harangue of women in check . . . sometimes.  “Men are superior to women in every way,” he would always say.  “They can do a better job at anything, including the traditionally-female job of working as telephone operators.”
       As Alvin cruised the work area, he watched for agents not doing their job properly.  Whenever he saw a woman with reading material at her terminal, he would confiscate it, regardless of whether she had it opened or not.  The men, on the other hand, could get away with murder while he worked.  That behavior continued for several months.
       When Alvin took a day off from work, he enjoyed riding his dirt bike in the rugged Arizona desert.  The beautiful scenery and clear blue skies made him forget the “incompetent women” he dealt with at work.  He enjoyed the roar of the engine and the feel of the wind on his face, as he jumped hills.  Zigzagging his way through dry river beds and dodging the painful needles of the cholla cactus gave him a thrill.  To him, the desert represented the ultimate in tranquility.
       During one of those pleasurable rides through the mesquite trees, Alvin discovered a plant he had never seen before.  As an Arizona native, I can name every piece of fauna that grows here, but this is something new.
       This large and unusual growth stood nearly five-feet tall, with a perfectly cone-shaped stem of blue-green color.  But, the huge bright magenta and yellow flower at the tip of the cone really caught Alvin’s eye.  It must have measured two-feet in diameter.
       Alvin stopped his bike next to the colorful growth and jumped off.  I have to take a closer look at this strange thing.  After extending the kickstand, he took off his helmet and gloves, then cautiously walked toward the plant.
       He reached out touch the plant’s stem.  It feels more like human skin than plant fibers.  I can feel the pulsation of fluids moving inside.
       The unusual size of the flower intrigued him.  Tiny hair-like petals surrounded a large center, filled with magenta and yellow pollen.  The colors remind me of a radiation warning sign, telling me to “stay away.”  Instead, of heeding his internal warning, he moved closer to get a feel of the petals.
       Just as Alvin’s fingers caressed the delicate hairs, the flower burst forth with a massive explosion of pollen, straight into his face.
       “Yeck!”  Alvin spat and gasped, wiping the clinging mess from his eyes and mouth.  The pollen coated his entire head.  It took him fifteen minutes to clean the thick muck off, cursing the plant the entire time.  When he finished, he climbed back on his bike and angrily drove away.
       Next day at work, Alvin felt his old self again.  He hassled a couple of women for arriving from lunch a minute late, then fired a young girl for passing notes to a man, not saying a word to the man.  It was a great day.
       As the end approached, his stomach began hurting and his head throbbed.  Hopefully, he would feel better after taking a couple of aspirins and getting good night’s sleep.
       During the entire night, Alvin tossed and turned in bed.  He couldn’t get to sleep because his body ached all over, as if his insides were moving around.  No position on his bed felt comfortable.  Finally, at two o’clock in the morning, he stood and staggered into the bathroom to splash water on his face.  His disheveled reflection in the mirror almost frightened him.
       Cold water did little to relieve Alvin’s agony.  Turning off the tap, he felt a sharp twinge in his stomach, then in his face.  He glanced in the mirror just in time to see his face bulging in several places.
       “What?”  Alvin hands ballooned to twice their size then shrank, while his entire body shook and changed under his night clothes.  The pain became intolerable.
       “What’s happening to me?”
       A burst of pain shot along his spine, knocking Alvin to his knees.  He slowly stood, staggered to bed and collapsed into unconsciousness.
       The next morning, Alvin awoke feeling no pain in his body.  It must have been a bad dream.  I never felt better in my life.
       Climbing out of bed, he marched into the bathroom and straight to the toilet.  While lifting the lid, he felt off-balance, as if his center of gravity had somehow shifted.  He pulled off his pajamas’ bottoms, and as he reached down to take a hold of his “manhood,” he found nothing there.
       “What?  Where is it?”  He then noticed that to see past his chest, he had to bend over much further.  “What’s in my way?”  In a panic, Alvin stripped off his top then rushed to the full length mirror.  What he saw made his jaw drop.  The reflection looked nothing like the one he came to know over the past thirty-nine years.  During the night, his body mysteriously transformed into a woman, and, a beautiful one at that.
       “Shit!”  Alvin felt ill.  His knees buckled.
       Alvin stood up again and stared into the mirror.  Long brown hair, styled in layers of thick waves, flowed twelve inches below hiss shoulders.  Shapely breasts and hips looked like those of a model, with no unsightly lines to mar his golden tan.  Stepping closer to the mirror, he carefully studied the changes in his face–one he would have considered attractive under different circumstances.  I need to call my close friend, Dr. Max.  Maybe he can figure this damn thing out.
       Alvin hurried to the phone.  Max’s secretary, Lisa, answered.  “Doctor Thomas’s office, can I help you?”
       “Yes, Lisa, this is Al.  I need an appointment to see Max later this morning?”
       “Al?  Al who?” 
       “It’s Al!  You know, Alvin Price!”  Alvin hadn’t noticed the difference in his voice.
       “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t recognize you at first.  You must really be sick.”  Lisa paused to look at the doctor’s appointment book.  “Would ten-thirty be okay?”
       “That’s fine.  I’ll see you then.”
       As he hung up the phone, Alvin wondered if he had anything to wear that would fit.  He quickly discovered that his male clothes looked too big and baggy for his new female body.  Only a pair of tight bike pants and an extra-large Phoenix Suns T-shirt fit.  He could finally fit into his jogging shoes after slipping on three pairs of thick woolen socks.  Damn, that’ll have to do for now.
       When ten-thirty arrived, Alvin quietly stepped into the doctor’s office and up to the secretary.  “Hello Lisa.  I’m here for my ten-thirty with Max.”
       Lisa stared at the “new” Alvin with a questioning gaze.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t believe I know you.”
       “Yes, you do, Lisa.  It’s me, Alvin Price.”
       “No!  Come on, ma’am, you don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”
       “What I expect you to do is to tell Max I’m here, or I’ll tell him I saw you shopping on that day you called in sick.”
       Lisa’s jaw dropped open.  Only Alvin knew she had played hooky that day.
       “I’ll . . . I’ll tell him you’re here,” stuttered Lisa.
       A few seconds later, Max walked out of his office and when he spotted Alvin’s new shape, he stopped dead in his tracks.  “Would you step into my office, ma’am?”
       “Stop calling me ‘ma’am’!  I’m Al, damn it!”
       Max turned to Lisa and whispered, “Well, she sure yells like Al.”  He turned back to Alvin.  “Just follow me.”
       They stepped into the office.  As Max shut the door, Alvin yelled, “Max, you gotta help me!  Last night I changed into a woman!  I want to be a man again!  Give me something to change me back!”
       “Look, whoever you are, if this is some kind of joke, I don’t find it very funny at all.  You come in here and pretend to be a good friend of mine and I’m supposed to help you?  Did Al put you up to this, or what?”
       Al began to get angry with his friend, but soon realized Max’s dilemma.  How does this look to him?  A strange woman claims she’s his best friend?  If the situation was reversed, I would have a hard time believing it myself?
       “Okay,” Alvin conceded, “there has to be a way of proving it to you.  Ask me any questions that only Al would know.  A stranger wouldn’t know everything that has happened between us.”
       Max thought for a moment, then asked, “What was the name of the girl that Al and I almost fought over in high school?”
       “Susan Mason,” Alvin quickly answered.
       Max looked surprised, but not convinced.
       “Where did Winfield, you and I go in the summer of 1973?  Describe it in detail.”
       “Oh, you mean the ‘Voyage of the Three Weary Travelers’.  Well, first we drove Winfield’s van from Phoenix to Flagstaff.  From there we . . .” Alvin went on to describe the entire trip in great detail.
       Before Alvin finished the story, Max stopped him.  He stared at the strange woman in his office, then hollered, “You ARE Alvin Price!  Only Al would have known about that trip in such detail as you just described it.  No one could have possibly memorized that much and tell it the same way Al would have.  If it’s really you, then how did you get this way?”
       “You’re asking me?  Aren’t you the one who spent ten years becoming a doctor?  How the hell am I supposed to know?”
       “People don’t just change their sex overnight.  It takes a long time and a lot of work to have it done.  I can tell you that this hasn’t happened to anyone else before now.  I’m sure there isn’t a cure, but let me examine you to see if I can find out anything.”
       After an hour of testing and probing, Max brought Alvin back into the office.  “I’ve tested you for everything I could with my limited resources.  You can go for more tests later.  However, you appear to be a healthy, normal female with everything a female has.”
       “Everything?” Alvin asked.
       “Everything.  In fact, you should have your first period in about a week.”
       “Shit!”
       “I’m afraid, my old friend, you’ll have to live with the fact that you’re now a real woman.”
       Faced with that realization, Alvin put his face in his hands and cried, something that he as a man would have never done.  Max tried to comfort “her.”
       After a couple of minutes, Alvin stopped to wipe away her tears.  “How am I ever going to face them at work?” she asked.
“I’m only your medical doctor.  You’ll need another kind of help.”

———-

       Unknown to the people of Earth, an unusually shaped spaceship – designed to remain totally invisible to any form of detection – orbited nearby the Hubble telescope.  Sent from a distant solar system, the occupants observed the human race to report to their superiors when the Earthlings began living together in harmony.  Their job looked like it would take centuries, something the extraterrestrials did not find very appealing.
       “The plant you sent down seems to have done its job well,” remarked one alien to another.
       “I had to try something in order to speed up the process.  The humans are not going to give up their prejudices so easily.  If we wait for them to live in peace, our offsprings would have to take over our job.  I want to get back to our planet before I am too old to enjoy it.”
       “My feelings are the same, but you know we are not supposed to interfere with the natural process.  The Council will be upset with us.”
       “Who will tell them?  If Earth is ever to join the League of Planets, then all of their inhabitants must learn to get along with each other.  If they cannot do that, then how are they ever going to get along with us?  I am just helping to accelerate their advancement.  The plant’s pollen is formulated to genetically reshape any human to look and feel like the people they hate.”  The alien scratched his scaly head with one hand while adjusting the ship’s controls with his other three.
       “If a human approaches the plant harboring no prejudices toward any other of his kind, the pollen will not affect them.  It will only change those who need it the most.  I call my creation the ‘Equal Justice’ plant.  There are still a few more tests I need to complete before spreading them throughout the planet.  In ten years there should be no prejudices left.”
       “None whatsoever?  Will this include all those people who hate ‘gay’ people, whatever that is?”
       “Yes.  I plan on placing some in the middle of Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University campus in Lynchburg, Virginia.  That should take care of hundreds of people with just a couple of plants.  Strategic planting is important.”
       “Hopefully, your plan will work.  I want to be home before this century’s mating season begins.  One-hundred years is a long time to wait.”
       “I also want to get back.”
       “Let us see how your next test works.”
       The other alien made further adjustments to his controls.

———-

       In the thick woods of Alabama, a determined hunter carefully stalked a deer.  He slowly followed his prey, raised his rifle, then fired.  The untouched deer rushed deeper into the woods, while the hunter followed.
       After a few minutes, the man stopped, spotting an unusual plant growing in a small clearing.  Standing about five feet tall, the plant had a huge magenta and yellow flower on the top.  The hunter had never seen one like it before.  He just had to take a closer look.  Approaching cautiously, Marvin McCalister, the head of the local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan, reached out to touch the petals of the beautiful massive flower.

— THE END —

(Occasionally, I will post one of my short stories on this blog because, well . . . because I can.  Most of my short stories are Science Fiction, my true first love in writing.  It’s too bad that all of this political and transgender stuff shoves my other writing to the back burner.

This first story, “Nowhere, AZ,” is one of my favorites.  I had a lot of fun writing it.  It has a “Twilight Zone” feel to it, because I love the twist endings that the classic TV show had to their stories.  This has a bizarre scenario to the concept of “transitioning.”  I hope you like it.  – Monica –)

NOWHERE, AZ

       “Didn’t I tell you to fill up before we left Vegas?” scolded Babs, as she brushed her salon-colored, blonde hair out of her face.
       “Yeah, yeah, yeah!  You say a lot of things, most of which I ignore.”  Lance smiled.  “Besides, I can get another fifty miles when the gauge reaches ‘E’.  This is a ‘Beemer’, you know.”  He flashed Babs his pearly white teeth.
       “I don’t give a shit about your gas mileage.  I want you to stop at the next gas station so I can use the restroom and call Mummie.”
       “You do know the cellular won’t work out here.”
       “I know!  I’m going to use a pay phone.”
       “Whatever.  The last sign said that ‘Nowhere’ was three miles away.”
       “Where?”
       “Not ‘where’.  Nowhere.  Arizona.”
       “Oh great!  Now we’re going to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere.”
       “Or maybe, on the edge.”  Lance snickered.

       Two minutes later, Lance stopped his shiny new, silver BMW in front of the only gas station in Nowhere, Arizona.  Actually, the only building in Nowhere.  It appeared deserted.
       “No one’s in Nowhere,” remarked Lance with a smile.
       “What did you expect?  Do you think people would want to live in Nowhere, Arizona on purpose?”
       At that moment, a hunched-over old man, sporting a white, scruffy beard and a beat-up, old cowboy hat, limped out of the building.  Following close behind him, an equally old woman wearing a tacky print dress.  Her gray hair wrapped in a scraggly bun, looked unwashed and stringy.  The man spit a gob of chewing tobacco at the ground by Babs’ feet as he approached.
       “Howdy, folks.  Need gas?”
       “No.  We’re here for the ambience,” quipped Babs.  She made sure not to step into the small puddle of brown spit.
       “Well, we got it.”  The old woman smiled, revealing a mouth with only half of it teeth, and the ones remaining appeared crooked and stained.  The old man’s teeth looked just as bad.  “We don’t get many folks stopping here.”
       “I can’t understand why.  Can I get some gas?” asked an impatient Lance.
       “Sure, sonny,” replied the old man, “as soon as I get my gloves.  The gas fumes make my hands breakout.”
       “Where’s your phone?” asked Babs.
       “Around the corner.”  The old woman pointed to the right side of the building.
       When Babs rounded the corner, she discovered a huge pile of old car parts and building materials.  Thick desert grass had grown between the discarded wreckage, making a home for a variety of vermin indigenous to the area.  A path cut through the pile allowed access to the phone hanging on the building’s side.  She cautiously tiptoed through the refuse to reach the phone.
       Hanging on the side of the building, Babs found a relic of a payphone from days gone by.  With its badly faded instructions, the phone came from the time of AT&T’s monopoly and real silver coins, long before Babs’ birth.  The cord on the hand-piece appeared frayed, with bare metal showing under the dial where the numbers and letters should be.
       “What a piece of junk!  I surely hope it works.”
       Babs picked up the hand-piece ever so carefully, as if handling a soiled baby diaper.  She brought the hand-piece as close to her ear as she could without touching it, then dropped in a quarter and dialed her mother’s phone number.  At that moment, she noticed the old woman peering around the corner at her, smiling.  Babs glared back, then heard someone on the line.  “Hello?”
       “You will soon be nowhere.”  The man’s deep voice sent a chill through Babs’ body.
       In spite of the momentary scare, Babs regained her composure.  “I’m in Nowhere, you idiot!”
       “No!  You will soon be nowhere.”
       “You’re crazy.  Get off the damn line!”  Babs instantly heard a dial tone.  “Tell me I’ll be nowhere, will you?” she mumbled.  “I’ll nowhere you, you . . .” The phone began ringing.
       Three rings into the call, a woman answered, “Hello?”
       “Mummie!  It’s your little Babs!”
       “Hello?  Is someone there?”
       “It’s me, Mummie!”
       The man with the deep voice interrupted, “You will soon be nowhere.”
       “Screw you!”  Babs slammed the hand piece down so hard that she tore the old payphone off the wall.  Bare wires dangled from a hole in the wood.  In a rage, she stormed to the front of the building.  The old woman darted back from behind the corner when she saw Babs coming.
       While Babs tried calling her mother, Lance watched the old man do his best to get the gas spout into the tank.  “That is premium unleaded you’re putting in there, isn’t it?”
       “That’s right.”  The old man continued struggling.
       “Do you need some help with that?  I don’t want you to scratch the paint.”
       “Don’t blow a gasket, sonny.  I can handle it.  I’m not as old as you think I am.”
       “Don’t make me laugh.”
       “Why don’t you go in and try some of our free coffee?  It’s Colombian.”
       “I guess so.  I’ve been feeling a little tired for some reason.”
       “Our coffee will sure perk you up.”  He smiled.
       Lance noticed that the old man’s teeth did not seem as bad as they did a few minutes ago.  “Thanks.”  When he turned to walk toward the building, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his spine, bringing him to his knees.
       The old man rushed to Lance’s aid.  “Let me help you inside.”
       As the sharp pain subsided, a constant, dull throbbing replaced it.  “I can’t understand why I am having this pain.  I work out all the time.”
       “It could be from the long drive.”
       Lance gave the old man an indignant look.  “I doubt it.  My Beemer has full lumbar adjustments in its plush, leather seats.  Long drives actually make me feel more relaxed.”
       “Hell, I don’t know, sonny.  You tell me.”
       “I’ll tell you one thing, old man.  If this happened because of your negligence, I’ll sue you for everything you have.”
       The old man, now standing straight, laughed.  “If you tried suing me, you’ll end up getting Nowhere . . . literally.”
       Lance looked at the dilapidated old building surrounded by a vast expanse of desert.  “I see what you mean.”
       The old man helped Lance into the office and to a large easy chair in the back.  The old woman, who just came in, handed him a large cup of coffee.
       Babs burst through the door, her perfectly styled hair looked uncharacteristically disheveled.  “This place sucks!  Is the damn tank full yet?”
       “Not yet, missy,” replied the old man.  “I’ll get on it right away.”  He stepped lively through the door.
       Babs noticed Lance in pain.  “What happened to you?”
       “I don’t know.  All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain in my back.”
       “I know what you mean.  I’m not feeling too good myself.  It’s this place.  There’s something about it I don’t like.  We’ll feel better once we get back on the road.”  Babs looked up at the old lady.  “Where’s the restroom?”
       “On the side.”  The woman pointed to the opposite end of the building from the phone.
       “I surely hope it’s in better shape than the phone.”  Babs walked out.
       “Wait!” shouted the old woman.  Babs turned around.  “You’ll need this.”  She tossed Babs a key attached to a large piece of wood, then smiled, revealing a mouth full of clean and straight teeth.
       Babs did a double take for a second, missing the toss.  “Uh, thanks.”  She picked up the key and quickly headed out.
       Lance slowly stood up.  “I need to see if the old man has finished filling the tank.”
       Babs placed the key in the lock, then opened the door, half expecting to find a roach-infested hellhole.  What she saw brought a smile to her face for the first time since arriving in Nowhere.  Shiny white tiles lined the walls, softly flowing into the shape of two spotless, porcelain washbasins.  The tiles on the floor had an intricate Southwestern motif painted inside, giving the entire room a warm, pleasant feeling.  Even the white porcelain toilets appeared squeaky-clean.
       “This is more like it,” Babs remarked.
       While Babs admired the restroom, Lance watched the old man fill the BMW with gas.  He had no trouble with the nozzle this time.  The dull pain in Lance’s back had migrated throughout his body, causing him to hunch over while walking.  “Could you check the tire pressure for me?”
       “Sure, mister.”  The old man bent down by the rear tire, with his back to Lance.
       Babs finished using the toilet, then slowly made her way to the sink.  For some reason, she couldn’t move very fast.  The cool water from the tap felt refreshing, flowing into her cupped hands and onto her face.  After a minute of allowing the water to wash away her frustrations, she felt her way to the paper towel dispenser.
       “Aren’t you done with that tire, yet?” asked an impatient Lance, his voice cracking.
       “I have to make sure everything is right for my . . . I mean . . . your trip.”
       At that instant, Lance heard a heart-stopping scream exploding from the woman’s restroom.  Babs came running out, water still dripping from her face.
       “Look at me!”  Babs hollered.  “I’m old!”
       Lance gasped, since Babs had indeed become much older in appearance.  Her perfectly styled hair had become completely unruly and gray.  Wrinkles and liver spots covered a once-smooth and soft face.  Holding up her hands, she revealed that they too showed signs of aging.
       “What happened to you?”  Lance held out his hand to Babs.
       “Look at you!” she screamed.
       Lance’s hands and face also showed the same signs of aging and he had grown a gray beard.  “Damnit!  What’s going on here?”
       “Nothing much,” answered a young man’s voice.  Lance turned to find the “old man” had become young . . . and familiar looking.  He no longer had a beard and his blond hair looked perfectly styled.  “You see, you’re taking our places here in this isolated dump.”
       A young woman, also with beautifully styled blonde hair, stepped out of the building.  “And we’ll get to finally leave and take your place.”  The young woman slowly moved her hands along the sides of her curvaceous body.  “It’s so great to be young again after all these years!”
       “You have my face!  And my body!” the older Babs screamed, then she began coughing.
       “I do, don’t I?”  The new Babs smiled.  “And you now have mine.  It’s a fair trade, don’t you think?  I’m glad you kept yours in such great shape.  Thanks.”
       The older Lance, feeling shocked, turned to his younger self.  “I see you now have my face.”
       “That’s right.  Shortly, I’ll have your car . . . and then your life.”
       “You can’t do that, sonny!  You don’t know anything about my life!”
       “That’s the beauty of this transformation.  Your memories come with your body.”
       “What’s going on here?”
       The new Babs strolled to the car.  “Twenty-five years ago, we pulled into this stinking gas station to fill up our car just like you.  The old couple here wasted our time until we ended up turning into them.  Now, the only way you can leave is when another young couple stops in here on purpose.”  She opened the passenger door of the BMW and slid in.
“Yeah,” the new Lance added.  “They have to pull in on their own accord.  You can’t block the road, forcing anyone to stop, or lure them in with signs.  It won’t work.  Believe me, we’ve tried.”
       “We’ll hitchhike out of here!” yelled the old Babs.
       “You won’t get very far.  There’s some sort of invisible wall around the property that’ll keep you in.  That means you’re stuck in Nowhere, Arizona, with nowhere to go.  It could be for a very long time.”
       The new Lance sat in the driver’s seat, slammed the door and started the engine.  As he pulled out, he stuck his head out of the window and hollered, “Remember, you can’t leave until a car with a young male and female stop for gas.”  The new Lance and Babs drove away, assuming the identities of the former Lance and Babs.  The older couple stood hunched-over, stunned, their mouths wide open.

                                                ———-

       Eighteen, hot, Arizona summers passed since Lance and Babs watched their lives drive away.  Thousands of cars past by during that time, dozens of them even stopped, but none with the proper “young male and female” combination.  That changed the day twenty-five-year-old Dale Brickstone pulled in, accompanied by his German shepherd puppy, Sadie.

                                           — THE END —