Trans Universe

SEXUAL HARASSMENT

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 loses 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 —