The Candidate

by Zoneefem

  

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our next senator, Jane Romer."

John couldn't believe the turn of events that had led him to the dilemma he was now engulfed with. He really didn't want to run for any office, much less senator. What had happened since that day at work when his boss Freida Snively called him into her office and inquired whether he had any "skeletons" in his closet was just too much to understand. Of course he had to say no to the question Ms. Snively asked, I mean who would tell the truth to that kind of loaded question put forth by their own boss?

Freida watched with concealed amusement as John tried to figure out what she meant by making that kind of probing inquiry. She knew that he couldn't tell her the truth without exposing his crossdressing shenanigans to his boss. And if he lied to her, as she knew he would, she would nail his ass to the wall. This was sooo exciting.

John shifted his weight first to his left foot, then to his right. At 150 pounds soaking wet, his demure body tensed noticeably. What should he say? From the look on her face, he instinctively surmised that she knew a great deal more than he wanted her to know, but he couldn't decide how much he should reveal in answering the question. After several seconds of strained silence, he knew he must say something.

"Well, Ms. Snively, I wonder what the purpose of such a question can be." John was quick on his feet and was stalling for time hoping to either goad Freida Snively into telling him what she had in mind or perhaps give some visible clue as to the reason for her inquiry. Freida didn't take the bait, however, and continued to stare directly into John's face, never giving an inch.

Finally, after as long a pause as he could tolerate, he had to answer her question. Maybe she was just trying to put him on the spot to see how he would respond. "I am not perfect," he said, "but there is nothing really worth worrying about in my history." Wham! Freida knew that he had made a fatal mistake of trying to totally lie about his "problem".

Without saying another word, she buzzed her secretary and asked if the appointment was confirmed. When the secretary said yes it was, Freida motioned for John to follow her and pivoted on her four inch heels and walked out of the door toward the garage. She popped open the door lock with her remote device and got in. Not knowing what else to do, John climbed into her tiny sportscar, and still without a word, the car was quickly started and screeched out of the reserved parking space and into the busy street. Luckily, the light at the end of the block was red, so they didn't hit anyone.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the car whipped into a parking lot and came to a stop. Again Freida simply motioned for John to follow as she quickly walked thru a doorway and turned into a small shop. John was so distracted he didn't even read the sign, but when they got inside, he immediately recognized the odor mixture of nail polish, hairspray and permanent wave solution.

Walking quickly thru the salon, Freida entered an office that was simply but very expensively furnished. Waiting inside were three ladies who were all dressed in very expensive office outfits. John knew from his window shopping that all of them had to have spent several hundred dollars for the understated but very tailored clothes. Each of them seemed to be very well fixed in their own right.

"John, have a seat and let's talk," and Freida pointed at a chair in the center of the room. "You are a highly paid executive at our company. What was your gross last year, $250,000? Yes, exactly that," she concluded. "I have been watching you for a couple of years now, and from what I have observed, you are very intelligent and highly qualified in dealing with people problems and finances. Your talent has taken you far, but you have one major failing. You want to tell us about your Wednesday evenings out or do you want us to tell you?"

Now John started to panic. Was it possible that they knew what he did every Wednesday afternoon? Oh my gosh, his goose was cooked! So much for the new house he was planning on buying. He tried to come up with a proper response, but for once he was totally unable to think clearly. Finally, he decided to tell as much truth as possible without revealing his deepest darkest secret.

"Okay, so occasionally on Wednesday I leave work around 6pm and go out for a stroll. Because my twin sister is about my size and she doesn't like to shop, sometimes I look at dresses purely with the purpose of finding something she might like. Then I go to the hair salon and get a manicure and massage and go home. What's wrong with that? I work hard for my pay."

Freida looked him straight in the eye and asked him is he wanted to tell them what else he did on Wednesdays. Now John really began to worry. Was it possible that they knew what else he did on Wednesdays? Perhaps he had better expand his cover story a bit.

"Well, if you must know, I occasionally try on the dresses, just so I'll know if they will fit my sister. I also happened to stop at one of the cosmetic demonstrations the other day and before I knew what she was doing, the girl had applied some makeup. It was purely an unexpected thing. I wore it home, but took it right off." This was beginning to get too revealing. "And because I am so busy at work, I do have my hair shampooed and set. That way I don't have to mess with it myself."

"For the last year," Freida told him, "You have been under intense observation by a team of private detectives. We have pictures of your every move. Now, do you want to come clean, or do we run some of the video tapes?"

John started to understand that the jig was up-his job was history. If they knew what they said they knew, he would be unwelcome back at work. No top ranked business could allow one of their executives to publicly display his tendency to dress as a female. If they had pictures, he was toast.

" Freida continued, " you are highly qualified for your job and that is not in jeopardy. We are not here to destroy you, but rather to help you be more successful than you ever imagined. Our group is made up of women who believe that we can never accomplish our goals without picking the most talented persons and helping them to realize their true desires. We have a proposition for you. If any word of this ever leaves this room, however, we will expose your tendencies to the newspaper and television. Can you imagine turning on your tv set and seeing yourself in full drag? It would not enhance your future. However, if you co-operate with our group, you will become very well-to-do. Let me warn you, though, that if you should decide to do what we ask, you will never be seen as a male again. Your life will become what you have always secretly desired-a fully functional female. No expense will be spared to help you pull this off."

This was all so confusing. He needed some time to think. What would he tell his family? "Can I take a while to digest this," he asked.

"How about having your hair and nails done while we discuss our options," Freida said. "One of the stylists will shampoo and set your hair just the way you like it in a very feminine style. While we are at it, you are about due for a color touch up and perm. One of the other young ladies is an expert at gorgeous nails. She is already waiting for you at her station. We will visit with you after they get you done."

Now John was really in a quandry. If there was anything in the world he wanted more than getting a color and perm, it was to have his toes painted the same bright pink color as his fingers. As his mind considered what was happening, he was quickly shown to the stylist's booth and before he could say no, she had him at the sink applying peroxide to his mousy brown hair. While he waited on the bleach to do its work, his fingers were being soaked in a warm lotion.

As soon as John left the room, Freida broke into a smile. This was working so much better than she had any reason to believe. John was not the first "convert" that her group had sponsored, and he wouldn't be the last. The difference was that John was more talented than the others-his potential was unlimited. If they could successfully pull this one off, their fortunes were set. The other three ladies also grinned as one of them turne on the televised monitor which showed John sitting almost hypnotically at the styling station. The color was completed and she was now rolling his hair in a rainbow of colored perm rods. The nail tech had both of John's hands and feet now painted a brilliant pink for their final color.

After what seemed only a few moments(it was actually almost three hours), the nail tech was applying her final coat of sealant when Freida reappeared. John hair was now a mass of gorgeous blonde curls and waves. He was also now the possessor of a beautiful set of finger and matching toenails. To further emphasize what had already begun, Freida handed John a pair of 4 inch open toed heels and suggested that he must wear these shoes so that the others could enjoy his beautiful matching nails. John rose and shakily followed her back into the small office.

"That was just the beginning of a total makeover that you will just love," Freida told him. Now you must tell us what you have decided about how you want to live your future-either as a frustrated male or a happy and successful female.

There was no way John could deny how much he had already begun to accept that his life was about to change, but he still wasn't sure if he wanted to go all the way. Maybe he could just dress as a female at work and live the remainder of his life as he always had done. But with his hair now totally feminine, he couldn't possibly deny what had already happened.

"John," Freida continued, "before you suggest that we allow you to live as a female only part time, perhaps we should share our stories with you. Mary, why don't you start."

"My life was miserable from the age of 5. I was born as a gender male named Mark, but always knew that for some reason, things were never quite right for me. I went to college and tried to act macho, but in my weak moments, would go back to my secret desires. I graduated from a large well-known university as a Phi Beta Kappa student, but couldn't bear to go out into the work world as a male. After cashing in a small trust fund, I went to a renowned sex change doctor who helped me reach my true self. Five years later, I met someone else who was in the same situation, but who couldn't afford the medical costs of hormone therapy and surgery. So, I offered to help him through his transition if he would agree to become a member of a group to help others. All of us are members of that group, including Freida."

John's head snapped to look closely at Freida, but he was certain she had to have been born as a female. Her facial features and hair growth patterns were too feminine. Her voice was several octaves higher than any male voice.

Freida had anticipated his scrutiny, and so she told him of her conversion into a full-time female. Now they were asking him to join them in a group that would help him reach his lifetime goals as a female, but he could never go back. The pressure to reach a decision was becoming more of a burden than he had ever imagined. He just couldn't do that-it was too much of a change. No way. Freida offered him a glass of very expensive wine and he quickly drank it while trying to clear his mind.

John suddenly realized how tired he had become. Events were spinning out of control, or was it his head that was spinning. Before he knew what was happening, he drifted off into a twilight sleep. He could still move, although he only did so when someone assisted him. It was as if he was floating above the room, watching what was happening to someone else. Then, darkness.

Slowly John began to rejoin the real world. Had he dozed off in the salon? Something started shaking him on the shoulder. "Joan, Joan, wake up dear, its time for your next injection and you need to stir around. The medicine will work better if you are more active. Joan."

As his eyes opened, John saw himself reclining in a hospital type bed. He started moving very slowly at first. Every part of his body was experiencing some sort of pain, from the top to the bottom. He rubbed his eyes to clear out the sleep, but found that his hands were rubbing bandages. Had he been in an accident? What was going on?

"Joan, I am Dr. Winston," a female voice announced. "You were referred to me by a good friend, Freida Snively. She said you had consented to join her talent group and wanted to be converted into a genetic female. After I saw the video of your recent makeover, I was convinced she was right. We did a few things to change your facial bone structure and that is the reason for the bandages. Also, while you were on the table, we also added some padding to your chest area to help you have some breast cleavage. Later we will enhance that if necessary after the hormone therapy. I did rearrange you throat area so that your adam's apple will not show, and if your speaking voice sounds different, it is supposed to. If you have any questions, save them for a few days when we do a post-operative evaluation." Then the doctor promptly left the room. Once again, the haze of half sleep crept over John, and mercifully, he was soon asleep.

A bit later that day, John began to rouse from his slumber. Maybe it was actually several days, he really couldn't tell. Once again he was listening to the voice of Dr. Winston. "I am removing the bandages from your face. Whatever you do, don't get upset about the black and blue areas around your nose and chin. In order to give your face a definite feminine appearance, I had to break a couple of bones, but they will heal quickly. In a few days, the swelling will disappear and your face will be quite lovely."

Ripppppp. The bandages began to be removed. Ouch, that one hurt. Finally John was handed a mirror and what he saw was unbelievable. Looking back at him was the face of a lovely young lady, except it looked like she had been in an accident. Bruises and puffiness were all over her face.

"Yes, that is very good," the doctor opined. "Lovely." With that, she left John sitting on the side of his bed holding a mirror, wondering what was to happen to him next.

  

  

  

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