Published: 11 Apr 2022

I couldn’t wait to get out of there, all the “girls” bitching about who fucked up and who stepped on whose long gown’s hem, who edged who out of line as the troupe moved across the stage to the front just before the final bows were taken, who got the most applause as they all looked in my direction as I creamed off as much of the fucking makeup as I could and removing the glue from my own eyelashes and from the skin toned tape over my sideburns. Even as I was blow drying my own hair from the finger shampoo I had given it with a bowl of water I could hear them bitching about something or other. I had put up with this crap for 7 years, since I was 17, and I’d had it.

Standing up from my makeup mirror I tossed off the thin robe and began to apply deodorant to my shaved pits and then pulled on my fitted jeans over my ample butt and full crotch which were encased in white Calvin briefs. As I was buttoning the four fly buttons I noticed almost every eye in the room checking me out, either directly or through their own mirrors at their makeup stations. In front of me at my station were 8 jewelry boxes, all containing copies of the real jewelry I wore on stage. Once I had my sneakers on, and still bare chested, one of my better looks if I do say so myself, I took up the hinged jewel boxes and proceeded around the dressing room, handing each of the “ladies” a box, and when done I said to the whole room, in my naturally deep voice, “I want to thank you all for a great tour, you all stepped up to the plate this time. For those who already have a gig lined up I wish you well, and for those still looking, or waiting to look, may I suggest you call Harry, my agent and lawyer whose contact number is on the card in these parting gifts I’ve just passed out. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but these are replicas of the pieces you’ve each admired over the last seven months of our tour. Although replica, they are still made of real gold or platinum and the stones are not paste, but semi-precious stones, so don’t forget to insure them. It’s been a pleasure to have had you all with me and now you’ll see why we all had to cram into my dressing room here for the last two days, there is a cast party next door in your old dressing room and unfortunately I have a flight to catch, so I’ll wish you all luck and know you all have my best wishes.”

I finished off dressing in a short sleeved shirt, one that showed off my muscular biceps and left half the front buttons open to show off my smooth, muscled, hairless torso and scrapped everything off my dressing table into a plastic carrying bag and packed that and the short robe into the already packed suitcase and put that over by the long suit bag, ready for me to grab as I checked one last time to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind and then I did grab my bags and left the now deserted dressing room that had a star on the door.

At the back stage office I stopped and chatted with the theater manager and collected my take from tonight’s door proceeds, which totaled about three grand, usual for the door take every weekend night for the last month we’d appeared here and the weeknight door take had averaged two grand a night. I checked with him and he showed me what to expect from my 50% of the bar tabs and once satisfied that would be at least ten thousand for tonight alone I made sure he had the correct information to get those funds to me as well. All told I had earned over 300 thousand dollars at this, one of the smallest theaters we had performed at in the last seven months, performing six public shows a week, about three private shows a month at 200 thousand a show, and that was all mine, the troupe was paid out of the liqueur sales, well the 50% I didn’t take. The troupe’s pay, the theater rental, the security, it was all covered by half the bar take, the rest of it was mine as the producer, manager, director, and star of the show. These last seven months had been hard to see through to the end, I had recently just turned 24 and as they say in this business, I was hanging up my wigs and retiring, with close to 4 million dollars.

I had started doing impersonation shows in Springfield Massachusetts at a bar owned by my landlord. I was an emancipated teen at sixteen and I was about to be a junior in high school. My single parent was a hooker, a street walker. I had been left in the care of so many “aunts” and so many “uncles” over the years I no longer knew who was really related or not. I had great teachers though and one of them was a boy lover who asked of me only to let him watch as I masturbated my very large dick. It was only 10 1/2 inches, but it looked huge on my thin body. It was Jerry who explained about emancipation and it was he who set me up with a sizable trust fund that would pay all my expenses for the next five or six years, in high school and in college, because he wanted me to get a masters or doctorate degree, something he had never completed and had always regretted it.

Jerry hired and paid for the lawyer to represent me in court and it was Jerry who rented me my first apartment, just three buildings from his. It was a small three room apartment which I furnished from the Salvation Army store down the block. He also found me an after school job at the library for my day to day expenses. It was at the library I could use a free computer and there were even notebook ones I could check out. Being just a little smarter and cleverer than most my age was how I had skipped sophomore year by being able to take all accelerated classes, and I was able to do that all through my senior year too. In fact my senior year grades were even better than the year before because I no longer had to put up with my mother’s crap. Eight blocks away was a college campus and I was already accepted there and would enter as a sophomore in the next year’s fall semester.

Jerry was not the only teacher to help me that last year, but he was the only one to help pay my expenses, usually slipping me a fifty or a hundred every time I masturbated for him, which was three times a week usually, but was sometimes four. The summer before I entered the college Jerry fell down a flight of stairs in his building and his neck was broken, he died two hours later in the hospital, I was holding his hand. The very next day his lawyer called me and I had to go see him. I was so nervous. I was afraid that the trust would be revoked and because of the trust I had never applied for any scholarships and now it was too late to do so for this year.

The lawyer was real nice and right away told me that the trust was intact, every thing in it was well protected, but he went on to say that Jerry had left me everything he owned. I was his only heir. He explained here wasn’t much money left, just about 30 thousand, but another trust had been set up that would pay out to the tune of five hundred thousand when I turned 30, providing I had received my masters or doctorate degree by then. He went on to explain that Jerry had had a strange past, one he never talked about to many people, and it was this past, documented in scrapbooks and dozens of photo albums that I might find interesting.

I took his advise and bought for cash a used car, a good, well maintained five year old van, he even let me register it under his insurance policy and everything (you have to have insurance to register a car in my home state). I used that van to empty Jerry’s apartment, donating things I had no use for, and using it to cart things to my apartment, the stuff the lawyer mentioned and then some. One of Jerry’s closets was full of what looked like designer gowns and there were three trunks and five suitcases of women’s shoes and accessories, including human hair wigs. One smaller suitcase held jewelry alone, pounds and pounds of the stuff, all in high end designer boxes.

Once the money from his estate hit my bankbook a short time later, I was afraid to touch it, but I did withdraw an emergency fund, one thousand, and looked on a used laptop I had bought and found a small growing tech company to invest twenty thousand in. Jerry had drilled in me the need to always have a nest egg, something to fall back on when things got rough. It took me a week but I had finally moved all the “drag” paraphernalia to my small apartment and a few pieces of his I wanted to keep, with the rest all being donated to the Salvation Army.

It was during my first semester in college that I became so bored one night that I began to go through the scrapbooks and photo albums. I had called the items in that special closet as Jerry’s “drag”, and I wasn’t wrong. He had begun working in shows while in college, working for some “mafia” wannabes from New York. They had a club there and ran a road show totally separate from the club in New York. They apparently made thousands of dollars a show and Jerry had been the “girlfriend” of one of the owners. He must have been good, because there was no way he could have bought all those designer duds and the expensive jewelry. I had begun to look up all that stuff on the internet and most of it was worth thousands more now.

Looking through the scrapbooks told another story though. The partner he had attached himself to was a married man and when his wife found out about his gay side life she had shot him dead. In some of the typed papers enclosed Jerry told about how devastated he was and how the other partner forced him out of the show troupe. That was how Jerry returned to college and got his degree and became one of my high school teachers.

I couldn’t find any evidence that he had ever performed again. I knew he had had surgery on his throat which gave him a sort of raspy voice and I knew that when he was performing it was without a sound track, he performed in his own voice, mimicking some of the famous female singers of his day. I was surprised to find that we had shared a body size. I guess he had bulked up quite a bit after his performing days. He had once told me about a lover he had had for 9 years after he had started teaching. Drew had died at the hands of a drunk driver as he was on his way to their home to celebrate their anniversary. After that Jerry had moved into the apartment, and never took a traditional lover again.

I was not able to be kept on at the library and half way through my sophomore year at the college it became a reality, funding had been cut back and I was let go from my paid position. I was really reluctant to tap my reserve funds or remove more from my trust. I was pondering all this as I gathered my mail in the lobby of the building I lived in when the landlord, Mr. Davis approached and asked how I was getting along. He had been friends with Jerry for years and he also owned the big gay bar on the next block. He asked if my job at the library was secure and I had to tell him that the job was there, but only as a volunteer position, after the end of the month, in two weeks. He commiserated with me, I think because he was worried about whether I needed the money for my rent or not.

Three days later I received a caller at my door. It was Mr. Davis. He asked if I had a moment or two to talk and I invited him in. We sat in the small living room area and he asked me how old I was and I told him I was just short of 17, as he knew. He harrumphed and said he did, but he needed his mind refreshed. He told me he was going to offer me a job in his club. It would be a job he thought I could do, cleaning the restrooms and the area beyond the bar, the place where there were tables and chairs, where the patrons stood and cruised, the dance floor area and the stage at the end of the big room. There were a few rooms behind the stage and a restroom there too, but one was his office and another the liqueur storage room. I would only have to clean the restroom and the room used as a dressing room when it had been used. He said he would pay me three hundred a week under the table but I could only work there when the place was closed, I was underage and he didn’t want to take the risk of having a minor in his bar when it was open to the public. The job was five days a week, Monday through Friday. I knew my classes ran in the afternoons, the ones I had to physically attend in person, two of my classes were on line and attendance was not really required, but I received better grades when I did. Three hundred free and clear a week was great for a college student, let alone one who wasn’t yet 17. He assured me I would never be alone in the club when I was working. He had bartenders who would re-stock for the next shift, he himself did the books and was there for many hours besides the open ones. It sounded too easy, but I agreed and started the very next day.

The mess I walked into the next morning was disgusting. It looked like a New Years Eve party had been held in there, and that half the attendees had left or spilt their drinks and beers all over the place. I tried to sweep the main floor area, but there was so much crap on the floor it was futile. I went out to the back alley to dump the first load and saw a big old rake and decided to give that a try. From the broom closet I pulled out a folded tarp and began by laying the tarp down and raking the debris onto it. Soon I had a good sized pile and I folded up the four corners into the muddle of the tarp and was able to lug it all to the dumpster in the alley. I felt real good about this now, it was going to be a breeze to clean this place, then as I was about to close the lid on the dumpster I spotted it, a twenty dollar bill poking out from the pile of debris I had just dumped in there. Twenty bucks! Free! I climbed up on a discarded plastic milk crate and pawed through what I had just dumped.

I only found five singles, but that was another five dollars I didn’t have before. I resolved to look closer at what I was raking up. I did pay closer attention and I retrieved another fifteen dollars before I finished the floor. The beer bottles went into an empty beer case and the half finished drinks went down the toilet, the glasses stacked on the bar top nearest the sinks behind the bar. The bathrooms were also disgusting and a spray bottle of bleach and heavy duty rubber gloves helped in cleaning them. I was curious and checked the coin returns on the vending machines in the restrooms and came up with two dollars in quarters from the tampon dispenser in the only ladies room and three dollars in quarters from the condom dispensers in the two men’s rooms.

By that time a bartender had arrived and was inventorying the empty liquor bottles and the empty beer cases. He checked in with Mr. Davis and then asked me to help him bring out from the stock room what he needed to replace. He brought out a two wheeled dolly from behind the bar and we went behind the stage through a hidden door and went right to the store room. I was a bit tongue tied, I mean the bartender was a hunk. I mean really hot. He had a face that reminded me of Heath Ledger and the blond wavy hair that just touched the base of his neck. He had on a white tank top and real tight 501’s, I could tell he wasn’t circumcised. He helped me stack the dozen or so boxes by the door to replenish the stock and then effortlessly carried 4 of the cases back to the bar, his biceps bulging, as I wheeled the dolly with four cases behind him. I dropped those off and returned for the others, depositing them next to the ones I had already dropped off. He thanked me and then introduced himself. His name was Chad and I told him everyone called me Lee. He poured me a coke and told me to rest a bit and talk to him as he restocked the bar from the boxes w had just brought out from the stock room.

By them Ray (Mr. Davis) had come out of his office with a bank deposit bag and asked how everything had gone for me this morning, and was I going to be able to handle the job. I told him I thought it went well and that if he was happy with the job I had done, then I guessed we were OK for me continuing. He did look in the closest restroom and pronounced it cleaner than he had ever seen it and slipped me a twenty as a tip. I started to thank him and he just told me I had earned it, but don’t expect it all the time, he wouldn’t be there every time I worked. He left to make his deposit and I sat and talked to Chad as he worked, I had two and a half hours before my first class.

He asked a lot of questions, about my classes and what I was studying. Finally he asked why he had never seen me in here before and I told him I couldn’t come in while the place was open. He asked if I was barred or something and I laughed, that funny deep-throated laugh I had, and told him no, but what would he do if he carded me and I handed him my drivers license, and I pulled it out and showed it to him. He was a bit shocked when he had figured out my age and he handed it back to me, telling me he had been about to ask me out. I explained that I was emancipated and virtually an adult in the eyes of the law and how about I cook him dinner some night and we could be friends, no funny business, just friends. He told me he’d have to think about that, and as I had finished my coke and my chores I told him I’d likely see him in the morning and left to get cleaned up for my class, one I attended on campus.

I thought about Chad a lot before, during, and after my afternoon class on campus, and also during my three classes on line that afternoon. He was nice, yes he was older, but more than all that, he was someone I would feel comfortable learning about gay sex from, physically. Not just reading about it, I did enough of that! I had watched gay porn on my laptop, I mean I was a horny 16 year old virgin, well, except for jerking off in front of Jerry. I was so ready for the next morning where I would hopefully earn some more extra money and get to talk more with Chad.

It wasn’t to be. The next morning I did find another twenty dollars mixed in with the litter on the floor, but only seventy-five cents in the machine return slots, but hey, it was a Wednesday morning and I guessed that the weekends and Monday nights were the busiest at the bar. I had been cleaning up the floor for an hour before I head someone coming in the back door. I knew it wasn’t Mr. Davies, he was in his office and had been since he let me in. No, this was today’s afternoon bartender, Robin, coming in to prepare the behind the bar area and restock, like Chad had done the day before.

I wasn’t quite prepared for Robin. He was older than Chad, about 40 I later learned, and was a bit pudgy. He was dressed in jeans and sneakers, but he had a woman’s frilly blouse on and dangling ear rings on. His fingers were all adorned in jeweled rings and he was fun. He teased me about being cute and young and naive, but he wasn’t coming down on me, he was quite the comedian and made me laugh. He had a boombox behind the bar and sang along with the recordings he was playing. He would mimic perfectly the songs sung by Cher, the Pointer Sisters, and some oldies like Marilyn Monroe, Jane Russell, and Etta James, and Billie Holiday. He could hit all the notes, high and low.

I continued to clean the floor areas and I started to sing along with him. It was fun, and shortly, without my realizing it, I was singing all by myself and Robin was leaning on the bar listening to me singing,“Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend”, a favorite of Jerry’s I’d listened to a hundred times at his apartment, along with dozens of other show tunes he played all day long. Shortly the music was off and I was still singing. When I finished Robin started clapping, gushing at how well I had sung that song.

We continued singing as we both toiled away, singing duets. He sometimes sang the girl parts and I would sing the man’s, and then we’d switch, and sometimes sing both parts at the same time. We had a great time and we continued as we restocked the bar, much like yesterday with Chad, but Robin could only carry one case at a time. We talked when my chores were done and he told me there would be a contest on the stage in a few weeks and he wanted me to sing for it. He went on and on about it and I finally told him that I couldn’t do it, not that I didn’t want to, or that I didn’t want the prize money ($1,000.00) but that I couldn’t because of my age, I wouldn’t be allowed in the door, let alone enter the contest.

He stewed about it for the few minutes it took for me to finish my coke and then told me he had an idea. He explained it was a contest for drags, they would all be dressed as women, no one would recognize me, and after all, how many people in here would I know, just Mr. Davies and whatever bartenders were on during my cleaning shifts. He asked if I had any drag and I told him I had loads of stuff, but no make up and also that I had never worn any of it. He looked very skeptical, but told me we would have to get together and practice.

I left soon after to make my on-line classes and thought about what Robin had said about my voice. I had a good day at my computer classes and even aced a pop quiz, the only one on line at the time to do so. I was pumped and after the last one I worked out a bit with the weights I’d bought at the Salvation Army and a weight bench I had picked up at the Goodwill Store. The clerk there had told me she had a Nautilus machine in back, they were just waiting for someone to replace the hand grips that had been stripped from it and they should be in in a few weeks. Once a week on Mondays I called her and asked if the replacement grips had come in yet and after hearing no for two weeks in a row I asked her what they would sell it for without the grips. She talked to her supervisor and they came back to me with a really cheap price and I had put a deposit on it and I now had enough to pay it off, but I needed help with it. The store guys would help get it in my van, but I needed help getting it upstairs to my apartment. I decided to ask Chad the next day to help and offer him a home cooked meal in payment, Friday or Saturday would be good for me, I just hoped he could help.

The very next morning I asked him as we each cleaned up our areas and he agreed that the next day would be good for him also, as it was one of his days off so after Robin and I finished re-stocking the bar the next day I took off for my apartment where I was to pick up Chad. He was waiting out front and since I had no afternoon classes that day I thanked him for showing up and showed him to my van parked at the curb. Inside the store we were shown to the back room where the work out machine stood and I showed him that the grips could easily be replaced with sections of pipe insulator. He agreed they would be a really good replacement and so I paid what was due on the balance and they helped us load it in the back of my van.

We stopped on the way back and I pulled into an Ace Hardware and bought a six foot length of pipe insulation and a roll of duct tape, a three dollar fix. It didn’t take long to get it set up in the bedroom and Chad just had to try it out. He stripped off his shirt and began to show me how it worked and what it could do for my body. I was so tempted to lick up the beads of sweat that had started to appear on his chest, but I knew that he didn’t want to fool around because of my age, and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, besides, I was storing away images that would provide me with years of jerk off fantasies.

While he worked out I started slow cooking the ribs I had planned to serve him for dinner, along with wide noodles with butter and a couple of acorn squashes I was baking. The salad came from a bag so there wasn’t much to do really in the kitchen so I went back to watching Chad and saw he had slipped out of his jeans and was wearing just his white Calvin briefs. My heart almost jumped out of my chest, God, he was so fucking hot! I went around to my jacket in the front hall and set my phone to record-video and quietly walked to the door to my bedroom and was able to shoot 5 minutes of him straddling the bench at the front of the machine and working on his chest with the resistance weights, his dick moving on it’s own inside his briefs. I didn’t risk any longer and closed down the phone and put it in my front pocket, alongside the boner I had started.

Chad encouraged me to try the apparatus out so he would know I wouldn’t hurt myself when on my own, and so I too stripped down to my briefs and took his seat on the machine. Just sitting where his hot and slightly sweaty ass had been was enough to get me going and my big old dick started to rise again, He didn’t say anything, he just moved to behind me and placed his warm hands on my shoulders as I manipulated the now padded arms of the machine in front of me. He made a few adjustments to the machine, showing me how he had done that, and let me work the apparatus for a while, but his warm hands were still on my shoulders and I was now fully hard and I heard Chad gasp, asking what I had in my shorts. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t answer him. I fled to the bathroom out in the hall, crying, thinking he was making fun of me.

When a few minutes had passed there was a soft knock on the bathroom door. Chad was very contrite, saying he was kidding me, but judging from my response I certainly hadn’t gotten the tease, and he was sorry if he had hurt my feelings, it was the last thing he had wanted to do. He asked if he could come in and I sniffled and told him OK and he entered and immediately dropped to his knees in front of where I sat on the closed toilet. He hugged me, telling me he had forgotten just how young I was and how inexperienced as well. He then told me he had never seen a real bulge like mine before. He had seen a lot of guys padding out their crotches, but he thought mine was the first authentic big dick bulge he had come across. He did stare at it for a while and it was making me randy. I whispered to him that if he wanted, he could see it. He licked his lips as he said,”Yes, please.”

I pulled down the front of my briefs and let my dick flop out in full view. He was still on his knees and he looked up at me and asked me a question with his eyes, I wasn’t sure what the question was, but I nodded and he grasped my cock and moved the foreskin off the head and just put that in his mouth. I could feel a slight suction as he swirled his tongue around the head, but that was it, as he said it was just a taste, something for him to dream about, and me too he hoped. We did kiss, closed mouths, before we both cleaned up a bit before I went and checked on our dinner, in a much better mood than I had been in earlier.

Chad praised my cooking and we did sit close enough to snuggle a bit after as we watched a show on TV before he left. I don’t now if he was even out of the building and I was in my bedroom jerking off, reliving the afternoon in my mind and just as I shot I remembered I had some great film of Chad working out, oh well, fodder for another day.

On Sunday afternoon I had more company, but of a very different kind. Robin showed up as we had arranged, for lunch. I really didn’t have much to do to prepare for it, he brought two large quiches that had already been heated and I put out an assortment of toasts, cinnamon, regular, sourdough and raisin. And I had sprung for a rasher of bacon and had cooked it to perfection.

After we had eaten and he told me some gossip from the bar he asked if he could see what I had for drag. This I had spent the previous day preparing for. I had even slept on the couch in the living room because I wanted to showcase Jerry’s outfits. I had turned my bedroom and the bed into a backdrop for the dozens of designer gowns and placed the wig boxes on the bed so their contents could be viewed. The bed had about eight gowns draped over it and the rest hung from the big drapery rod over the double windows. The floor at the foot of the bed was awash in the designer foot ware, mostly spiked heels from another era. The dresser top I had cleared and it was covered in the opened jewelry boxes, showing the tops because in my internet searches I had learned that the names displayed were quite well known, like Tiffany, Harry Winston, Channel, to name a few. I turned on the bright overhead light and stepped aside so Robin could enter and I swear he swooned. He was oohing and ahhhing, not knowing where to start and then he was all over the gowns. He was actually salivating, and cursing me out at the same time. Wanting to know how I had amassed this treasure trove?, were they all my size?, did I realize what I had here? I couldn’t answer them all. So I just told him I had recently inherited it all. He was looking at a label on one of the gowns and shrieked and dropped it back to the bed. “Do you know who this was made for? I can’t believe it, it’s a Valentino, made by hand for Jerry Louise, the best impersonator ever, and this one too, and this one, how did you end up with them? These are worth a fucking fortune!!” I told him that I had known Jerry for years and he was the one who had helped me get emancipated. He had been my teacher and like a father, or godfather, to me. He had died at the end of the summer and this is some of what he had willed me.

He raved about the human hair wigs and the shoes, cursing me again when I told him that they fit me too. He looked at each item on the dresser top and again was swooning. I had set aside a gold thread necklace with an onyx teardrop pendant. On the internet it was valued at close to three hundred and I wanted to give it to Robin to thank him for helping and encouraging me. Robin soon became all business and went and grabbed the case he had arrived with and proceeded to give me a make up lesson in the roomy bathroom, including false eyelashes, taping over side burns, and using tape to change and pull facial skin to give a really different look to the face. Then foundations and shading to change the contours of the cheeks and the width of the nose. Then a liberal coating of the skin toned makeup and I looked slightly oriental when I looked in the mirror.

I asked if he thought Mr. Davis would recognize me and Robin chuckled and said that by the time the wig and heels were on no one who knew me would recognize me. He said that once a gown was on hardly anyone was going to be looking at my face. That was our cue to return to the bedroom and he explained that my hairless chest was fine, that with some wide tape he could beef up my pecs into respectable tits, or at least cleavage, but he said that almost all the gowns had breasts built in, proving that they had been custom made for Jerry. It was my hairy legs that was going to be a problem, but one that could be overcome in two ways, either shave them, or wear support hose under a flesh colored or patterned pair of pantyhose.

That would explain the eggs that had been in one of the suitcases. I retrieved them and Robin popped them open and selected two pair for me to put on. Once done we had to choose a gown and Robin chose one of the prettiest ones on the bed. It was also one of the heaviest ones. He helped me into it and then chose a pair of stilettos for me to wear. I felt like I was teetering on nails pounded through the heels of my shoes. He had me parade around for a while as he fussed with one of the wigs and then he called me into the bathroom and clipped my hair to my head and then pulled the wig on my head from the forehead back, bobby pinning it to the sectioned off hair on my head. A little primping with a rat tailed comb and he pronounced me transformed, turning me to face the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

I couldn’t believe the transformation, even I wouldn’t recognize me! It was a way to win a thousand dollars and believe me, if all I had to do was dress up in front of a room full of strangers and sing a song or two, I was going to do it. I hugged Robin and thanked him for all he had done for me that day and he told me that since he did drag shows at the bar he couldn’t compete for the prize next weekend, so he asked if he could do my transformation for me again next Saturday and accompany me to the bar. He told me he thought I had a great chance to win and with him escorting me I would be sure to be let in. I told him how nervous I would be and he told me that was natural, but that I should practice a lot and keep myself hydrated as I did. He didn’t want me to strain my voice before the contest.

And practice we did. Robin introduced me to throat lozenges and also to concentrating on where my breathing was coming from as I sang, to get a better hold on my voice’s range as I switched from low and deep to high and clear. The song we had chosen for the contest was “Where Is Love” from Oliver. Robin had insisted that it was perfect for me as the highs and lows were perfect for singing it like I was singing a duet with myself, plus I knew all the words to it, a big plus.

On the days that Chad and I worked together he was very solicitous, treating me more and more like a younger brother, wanting to know more about me and my studies, how I was getting by, did I see a particular show, what did I think about it, you know, he was taking an interest in me, in how my life was going. I didn’t tell him I was entering the drag contest. I was scared that he might try and talk me out of it, or somehow let Mr. Davis know I was entering and would then be stopped, maybe even loose my job for coming into the bar when it was open, thus putting him in danger of having his business shut down, or at the least heavily fined. Robin and I had worked out a name for me to use, Marion Kynd, he said it reflected my belief that some day I would be settling down with just one guy. It was just something that I felt would take away the stigma I carried as the child of a prostitute. I just knew that there was a guy out there just for me, and me alone.

Finally the Saturday of the contest arrived. Robin was working the early shift that day and he told me he’d be at my apartment as soon as he got relieved about 4PM. We’d have a bite to eat and then he would groom me and transform me into “Marion”. Then he said he would dress in reverse drag, in a business suit, ready to escort me to the bar.

The prep work went well, and Robin introduced me to two additions, well 11 actually. First was a gaff. I thought that was hilarious, but he told me it was essential. It was a tiny brief that held my dick tight between my legs, tucked up, out of sight. He warned me not to get a hard on, it would make walking difficult for me, as I was so big down there. The other 10 things were false nails. Yeah, those sick on things that get glued to the top of your own nails. He left a bottle of nail polish remover that he said I’d have to soak my nails in to be able to remove them when I got home. My biggest fear was that I’d poke out an eye with them. It took hours for him to transform me, but once I was finished and standing there he told me I looked radiant, beautiful, alluring. He told me that I was a work of art that he had created, and he was so proud of me.

It only took him about a half hour for him to slick back his own hair, pencil in a thin mustache on his upper lip and don his “male drag”, a three piece suit he said he had for funerals. I had to help him tie his neck tie, as he said he had never got the hang of that, and then we stood side by side and we looked fantastic.

I wasn’t nervous, I felt like a kid going Trick or Treating, I was excited, until we reached the bar and there was a doorman. Robin was known to him and they chatted as I stood there and then Robin took my arm and we walked inside. It was very crowded and noisy, but as we moved through the crowd toward the stage a path opened up, like the parting of the sea, and Robin then signed me in as the last contestant.

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