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Transition

Elaine Barnard

    I admired my new self in the bedroom mirror. Yes, the boobs were finally there, plump and firm with rosy nipples. I’d been so afraid the hormones would create distorted lumps that my doctor couldn’t correct. But these, I was so proud of these as I hooked the pink bra between my shoulder blades.
    Next, I shaved my legs. They were furry male legs. I wanted that smooth look the girls at my office had. “How’d ya do it?” I’d asked in a casual way. “Waxing,” they’d smiled, “but it’s expensive.”
    I’d already spent a fortune on hormones, some of it afforded by my health plan. But that would soon hit bottom, so I decided to go the disposable razor route.
    My beard was another story. After a few laser treatments, the hormones kicked in. My cheeks were smooth as a baby’s.
    I tucked my cock inside my lavender tights. Now that would always be a problem because surgery terrified me. Suppose something went wrong and I ended up with a big hole where a vagina should be? No, I think I’ll just pretend I have a vagina and leave it at that.
    I bought some sun dresses at Target. Nothing fancy. I wasn’t going to a dance although eventually I’d like to. When I got some more courage, that is. As for now, I was stuck with Zoom to find a partner.
    I slipped into the floral dress that complemented my bleached blonde hair. I now wore it in a shoulder length bob like the anchors on CNN or NBC. Who knows, maybe I could get a job on TV some day?
    I wrapped a pink sweater over my arms. This was Seattle. It could be chilly in summer and rainy too.
    Well now that I was mostly dressed, I had to attend to my makeup. I must admit that being a female was a lot of work, but I liked the work. I loved to smooth blush on my cheeks, tweeze my brows, curl mascara on my lashes and gloss my full lips. I thought I looked rather pretty in an odd sort of way. There was still a prominent Adam’s apple on my throat, producing a voice that might be termed baritone, although I was trying to attain alto. Soprano was forever out of my range. But these were minor irritations.
    Today I thought I was ready to face the world. Working virtually had been rather lonely. No one to compliment my progress, to smile when I walked by. Will the guys in the office try to date me? Will the girls ask me to join them for lunch? I wondered what my boss will say when I show up even though I’ve hinted at the change.
    It started to rain when I got to the bus stop. I ducked under the canopy to protect my hair. Thank God I didn’t have to worry about curls.
    The bus arrived and we ran for it. Everyone was damp. The chill penetrated my sweater. The whole bus had that wooly smell like we were on a sheep farm. I started to offer an old lady a seat the way I always had but before I could do it this cool guy offered me his. I was flattered but not so flattered when his hand brushed my ass as he helped me to sit. He winked and gave me a sly smile as he leaned over me. “Get off at the next stop,” he whispered.
    I pretended not to hear and stared straight ahead. Whenever the bus lurched, he grabbed my shoulder as if to steady himself. “So sorry,” he murmured.
    I flicked his hand away and stood. He squeezed in next to me. “C’mon”, he murmured, “next stop.”
    I tried to move away but the bus was crowded so I pushed him off with my backpack. He persisted.
    Finally, the bus stopped. He got off. Sweat stained my dress even though I felt chilly. He blew sloppy kisses as the bus departed.
     I wished now I’d worn my Covid mask. Ward off creeps like that guy but I was so anxious to test the reactions to my miraculous transition that I forgot.
    We reached MOGA, the Museum of Gaming Art where I was employed designing games for children or young adults as wacky as myself. I’ve had a passion for them since I was a kid. I’d lock myself in my room playing until my parents dragged me out for school which I hated. It was so boring compared to gaming where I could dress in my sister’s clothes and play Dragon Queen conquering all the stupid knights. Sadly, I outgrew her luscious outfits. I was now six feet tall and she five foot five.
    I entered the museum holding my breath until I saw my boss, Mr. Kittredge, waving me into his office. I’d alerted him about my transition, but I don’t think he believed me. “Well-well,” he said, “your transition was quite a success, Roger, or should we now call you Regina? You look lovely.”
    I blushed as he pulled out a chair and helped me into it. Demurely, I crossed my legs the way models did before a photo shoot.
    He poured glasses of water and added a thimble full of Scotch to his. I declined thinking I needed to be clear headed. Hell, it was only 9a.m.
    He stroked his gray beard thoughtfully, coughed before taking another sip of scotch and then said, “I’ve been thinking, Roger, uh... I mean Regina, I hate to tell you this, especially on such short notice, but at the end of the month we’re going to have to let you go.”
    He added another thimble of Scotch, dabbed his beard, and leaned against his desk. “Government grants ended with the pandemic. We just have to cut back.”
    “I-I understand Mr. Kittredge. Thank you,” I murmured as I slunk to my cubicle and chewed a chocolate bar for comfort, wondering how the hell I’d pay for hormones now? My rent was due, and I still owed the government thousands on my college loans. It might be tough to find another job before my savings ran out and... and... I started to cry, ducking my head behind my computer so no one could see me.
    The girls did not invite me to lunch the way I’d hoped or the guys for drinks after work the way they used to.
    I snagged a sandwich special at Subway, hailed the bus and headed home. It was a deluge when I got there. My sun dress was no longer sunny, and my sweater itched. The narrow spike heels cramped my feet. I kicked them off the minute I got in the door, changed into my old sweats, poured a glass of cheap red and settled down to Zoom.
    There’s gotta be somebody out there.

 

 

 

 

 

    There’s gotta be somebody out there.

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