Ex-Husband 2: Femi-miss (Patreon)

“We need to talk,” Andy said, as the kids ran past Lisa and into her apartment. Lindsay sighed. Whenever Andy said “we need to talk” he meant, I want to yell at you.

“I need to get dinner ready, pack the kids’s lunches…”

“This will only take a minute,” Andy said, shoving past her and marching to what, since their divorce, she’d turned into her home office.

Lindsay took a deep breath. She didn’t want a big scene in front of the kids. Following Andy to her office, she closed the door, remembering all the things her life coach had told her about setting boundaries.

“You need to stop filling Brian’s head with bullshit,” he said.

“Can you explain to me what you mean by bullshit?” She said.

“You know what I mean!” Andy exploded. “I go to check on the kids, and I find Brian playing with a Barbie? He shouldn’t even have a Barbie!”

“Brian wanted a Barbie, so I bought him one. I am raising both our children to–”

“You’re turning him into a pussy!” Andy gestured around at the framed Georgia O'Keeffe reproductions she’d hung around the room. “You’re fucking surrounding him with vaginas!”

“Andrew,” she said, controlling her temper. “I am not okay with you yelling and cursing at me. If you can’t have a civil conversation about our son’s gender fluidity, then you need to leave.”

“The other kids are going to make fun of him. They're going to make fun of Jane, with her boy’s haircut. Playing football! You’re ruining our kids, and I am not going to just let you.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“To hell I don’t.” He looked at his watch. “I have to get to work. You’re going to hear from my lawyer.”

“Lawyer?” Lindsay couldn’t help but laugh. “For what?”

“Child abuse,” Andy said, storming off, slamming the door as he left.

“The kids,” Lindsay said. She didn’t like them being exposed to this kind of verbal violence. She just wished there was something she could do, but it seemed she and the kids were stuck with their father.

Andy drove to the studio, furious. He worked as a broadcaster for Sports TV, hosting their prime time sports news and talk show, Spike! Completely missing the irony, he sat down to have his makeup done. The makeup for men was done so they would look like they were not wearing makeup on the screen, which helped him justify having it done. Besides, without it he would look like a zombie under the lights.

He looked over the copy for tonight’s show as what’s his name applied foundation, but his thoughts were on Brian. He couldn’t stand what Lindsay was doing to his son- and their daughter, too, sure– and would find a way to stop it.

“And three…. Two …. One…”

“It’s time to Spike!” He said. “I’m Andrew Marrow, and this lovely lady is my co-host, Kelly West, and we are here to fill you in on all the latest news from the world of sports! Kelly?”

“Tonight’s lead story,” Kelly said, a big, bright smile on her face,  Will Aaron Rogers return to the Packers in 2023? And later,  we talk to WNBA rookie of the year, Tanisha Jones!”

WNBA. Affirmative action bullshit, Andy thought, just like Kelly. She, at least, was easy on the eyes, as any woman in sports broadcasting should be. Female broadcasters belonged on the sidelines with the cheerleaders. Well, what could a guy do?

Chapter Two

The magazine had arrived a week later, wrapped in black plastic. Shoving it and all the other mail under her arm, tossing it on the couch, and then checked on the kids, who were playing out back. Brian wore his princess dress, while Jane brandished a lightsaber, slaying invisible monsters. Andy would shit himself if he saw this, she thought. Confirming no was bleeding to death out back, she collapsed on the couch and went through the mail: junk, junk, junk. And? She tore the black plastic off the magazine. “What’s this?”

Ex-Husband Magazine. Revenge is a Girl’s Best Friend! Under that, “Turn That Sexist into a Femi-miss!” Chuckling, thinking this was some kind of kinky version of The Onion, she paged through, reading stories about men turned into feminists– and female feminists at that. Funny, but it couldn’t possibly be true.

She set the magazine aside, amused at the thought of Andy taking a girl power pole dancing class. Would she ever love to see that? But, of course, it wasn’t possible. Besides, she told herself, she had no desire for revenge. That was part of the  patriarchy. She wanted no part of it.

She remembered their son, Brian, coming to her in tears after the last weekend with Andy. “Why does Dad hate me?” He asked, breaking down.

Lindsay did not want revenge. She did, however, want to protect her children.

A week later, she found herself at the certain office of one Tatiana the Fixer. She asked her question, expressed her doubts, and Tatiana patiently and lovingly answered all her questions. “I just have a hard time believing this is real.”

“From what you’ve told me,” Tatiana, “this change is necessary, imperative, for the sake of your children. So, let me make a special offer. You can get one free change. Then, once you see this is real, you can decide.”

“Free? No contract?” Lindsay had suffered more than a few “free” offers that had turned out to be traps.

“You sign nothing. You pay nothing.”

“Well, I guess it can’t hurt?”

Tatiana smiled and handed Lndsey a stone.

“What’s this?” She said, taking the hard, cold stone into her hands.

“A way for you to watch.”

That night, Lindsay lay in bed, paging through the magazine, giddy with excitement. What would she change? Looking at the woman on the cover, she thought about giving Andy a pair of his own immaculate breasts. He’d always been obsessed with breasts, and it would be so funny! But, it also seemed pretty drastic. Finally, she decided, texted Tatiana her decision and went to sleep, not sure if she should feel guilty or not. Well, she decided, it probably wouldn’t work anyway.

Andy woke the next morning, confused. There was something in his eyes, his mouth. He reached up, pulling it away as if clearing cobwebs.. What the fuck?.Pulling a strand around so he could see it, he stared. “Hair?” He felt it now, tickling his shoulders, trailing down his bare back just past his neck.

His mind rejected what his senses were telling him. Your hair couldn’t just grow like that overnight. He went to the bathroom, flicked on the light and looked in the mirror. Hair. He had long hair that framed his face, curled at his shoulders.

He plucked at the hair, pulled. Ouch! It was real. What the fuck? He wondered if maybe it was the new protein powder he’d switched to. Well, hell, he thought, now I have to squeeze in a trip to the barber before work. He’d grab some scissors and chop it down as well as he could in the meantime. There was no way he was going to put up with shit from the guys down at Harry’s.

He turned and started  to go look for some scissors. Where did I put them? But then… he stopped and turned back to the mirror. Digging his hands into his thick hair, he tossed it back over his shoulders.  Maybe it was time for a change? He decided. His hair was amazing, and a lot of guys had long hair. It looked good. Even if he did kind of look like a girl. It was true. He did. Andy had androgonous features that had looked solidly masculine when he had his hair high and tight, but with long hair now framing that same face, he looked cute. It bothered him a little, to see that femininity in his face. When he’d been younger he’d sometimes gotten shit for being a “pretty boy,” and he’d maintained a constant stubble for years to counter it.

Hmmm. His cheeks were smooth. Had he shaved? He rubbed his chin. Nothing. I must’ve shaved, he decided, turning his attention back to his hair. If he was going to keep it, he’d have to do something with it. He lifted his hair and held it up. Sure. A solid man bun. It would be good for ratings. As he ate breakfast, he sat fascinated watching videos on how to put his hair up in a bun. The videos were all by women, but hey? He figured. Women were better at stuff like hair. Besides, why watch some dude when he could watch a hot, young girl?

Lindsay watched it all, shaking her head. Was that really her a-hole ex-husband with his long, pretty hair, watching some girl named Harley chatter about the perfect bun, smiling and nodding, taking notes?

Using the scrying stone, she zoomed in on his notepad. She chuckled, a hand to her throat. The note read Hair pins, barrets, banana comb, dry shampoo, hair tyes, hair clips, hand curler, drain protector, shower cap…. The list went on and on.

He’s going shopping! Lindsay thought it was adorable.

It took all morning for Andy to shop for all the things he would need– who knew long hair was so demanding? And then he spent a few hours trying to put his hair up, taking it down, watching more videos, and repeating. Finally, when it was just about time to head for work, he looked at himself in the portable, lighted mirror he bought and nodded. His hair was perfect!

“Bro?” He said, having an imaginary conversation. “Yeah. I decided to go with a man bun, you know? Pretty cool, right?”

He and Kelly arrived at the studio parking lot at the same time, Kelly getting out of her Audi, three bags in her arms, her legs looking great in those heels and that short skirt. “Hey,” Andy said, lifting his chin.

Kelly stared, not sure what to say.  He almost looked like a woman, she thought. Of course, she’d noticed his fine features before, but she’d never seen him clean shaven and donning a bun. The difference it made was astonishing. “New haircut?” She ventured, wondering if it was a wig, extensions?

“Yeah, I figured I’d go with a man bun,” Andy said, putting a hand to the side of his head, touching his hair with the tips of his fingertips.

Kelly raised an eyebrow. Andy did most certainly have a bun, but he also had strands of hair dangling on either side of his face, that made his new do look much more like a girl bun. “Well, you look great,” she lied.

Frankie the stylist,, touched one of those strands. “I’ll tie these fly=away hairs back for you,” he said. “Don’t even worry.”

“No,” Andy said. “It’s part of the look.”

“Oh, I had no idea,” Frankie said. He shrugged. It was actually pretty bold of Andy to go on air with a woman’s haircut. Maybe I need to reassess my opinion of this asshole? Frankie thought.

As Andy and Kelly took their seats in the half-darkened studio, waiting for the show to begin, Bob, the director, who’d been talking with some of the tech guys, did a double take and walked over. “You sure you wanna go on like that?”

“I sure do,” Andy said. “I’m a man bun guy now.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Bob said. Another headache.He fuckng hated the on-air talent. Twitter was gonna go nuts.

“What’s his problem?” Andy said, reaching up to tightening his bun..

“Oh, you know Bob,” Kelly said. “Anyway, I like it.” She reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “You ready to do this?” Seeing Andy look– feminine and a little foolish amused her a little, but she was more worried about what his new look might mean for the ratings. They were a team and would sink or swim together.

Lindsay watched the opening of the show on  TV, wanting to make sure this wasn’t all a trick of that weird stone. The show started, and there was Andy. She looked from Andy to the cover of the magazine. He had the exact same hairstyle as the woman on the cover. Tatiana’s magic worked.

Lindsay Venmoed Tatiana her fee right away. It wasn’t cheap, but would be more than worth it.  She was using some of her alimony money. Andy had no idea, but he was paying for his own gender change. Now, what shall I change next? Lindsay wondered. What should I change next?

Chapter Three

“Must be some kind of allergic reaction,” Andy said the next morning as he examined his bee stung lips in the mirror. Plush and pouty, they looked twice as big as they’d ever been, if not more. His hair and smooth face had already heightened his “pretty boy” looks, and now with these lips his face tipped even more strongly toward feminine. Not good, he thought, gently touching his new lips with his fingers. Not good.

Well, the swelling will go down in a couple days, he decided. Nothing I can do about it now.

He didn’t have time to worry about it; anyway; he needed to get to the gym. He had an appointment with his personal trainer, Hans. Throwing his hair up in a high ponytail– he was just so into hair videos now– he threw his gym clothes– tank top and baggy shorts, into his gym bag and headed out. At the gym, he got a few looks. No one had seen a man with lips like that, and the people that knew him wondered if he’d gotten collagen. Hans, a total professional, said nothing.

Andy did his warmups. Hans put 135 pounds on the bar for Andy to warm up on the bench press. It was far below his maximum. Lindsay, watching, waiting until he’d lifted the bar to make the change, and Andy’s arms trembled as the weight came rushing down, crushing his chest. Andy planted his feet, arched his back, pushed with all his might. “Spot,” he finally called. “Spot!”

Hans grabbed the barbell and lifted it off Andy.

“How much was that?” Andy said, sitting up, staring at the weights. 135?

“Bro, look, I’m sorry,” Hans said, noticing for the first time how skinny Andy had gotten, with tiny little arms. “You been sick or something? You lost a lot of muscle.” Had anyone asked him, he would have sworn Andy had come in just as buff as always, but that wasn’t possible. He just wasn’t paying attention, he told himself.

“Sick?”  Andy stood and looked in the mirrors that lined the gym. His shorts started to slip down his now skinny frame, and he grabbed them and held them up. “Holy shit.”  He barely recognized the scrawny man he saw in the mirror, with the stork legs and the pipe cleaner arms. His shoulders had narrowed, rounded. “Holy fucking shit.”

Lindsay smiled. She’d made some physical changes. It was time to start turning skinny little Andy into a feminist. Andy canceled the rest of his appointment and almost ran from the gym. He was humiliated to have people see him with these skinny little arms– half the women had bigger biceps! The doctor. He needed to see the doctor!

He climbed into his car, hooked his phone up to bluetooth and started driving towards the doctor’s office. “Siri, call Doctor—” He started to say, then stopped. I’m over reacting, he decided. Doctor.  When he got home, he looked at himself in the mirror. So I lost a little weight, he thought. Anyway, he said, turning to the side. I look good.

Looking at his watch, Andy cursed. He needed to be at work in an hour. All of his on-air clothes were kept at work, dry-cleaned, pressed, kept pristine. An anchor had to look sharp, and all of his clothes were tailored.  None of it would fit now. Shit.

There was nothing he could do. He’d just have to go with the baggy look. Taking his high ponytail down, he brushed out his hair and, hair pins clenched in his teeth, started putting it back up in a bun.

“You can’t go on the air like that!” Bob yelled when he saw Andy in his baggy coat, oversized shirt tucked sloppily into pants cinched so tight around his waist they’d bunched up. “What the fuck happened to you?” Bob mostly meant the weight loss, but he was also looking at those lips.

“I was sick,” Andy said.

“Sick?” Bob clearly remembered a much bigger Andy sitting in front of the camera only one day before. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Well, we’ll get a replacement.”

“And I’ll call my agent,” Andy said, suddenly consumed with outrage. “How dare you body shame me!”

“Hey, hey….” Kelly said, slipping an arm around Andy’s shoulder. “Bob, I have something Andy can wear. He’ll look great. I promise.”

Kelly’s clothes? Women’s clothes. Andy’s horror lasted all of one second before new ideas flooded his mind. “That would be great,” he said. “Problem solved.”

“You better look good.”

“He will,” Kelly said.

She led Andy back to her dressing room, surprised and amused he’d agreed. “We’re about the same size now,” she said, looking Andy over. “Now, don’t freak out. It’s a blouse and a woman’s sport coat, but androgynous.” She pulled a shiny, powder blue blouse off her clothes rack and handed it to him.

Andy looked over the blouse. It wasn’t that different from a man’s shirt, other than the Peter Pan– how did he know to call it that?-- collar and the powder blue color. But it was a blouse. A woman’s blouse.  ‘I don’t know,” he said, cringing at the thought of wearing women’s clothes on TV. “That jacket?” Kelly showed him.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d be a laughing stock.”

“They’re androgynous,” Kelly said, disappointed. She had so much wanted to see Andy in her clothes. “Gender neutral.”

Lindsay made a change, and Andy’s head flooded with new ideas.. Andy nodded, looking over the sharp blouse with new eyes.  “Yes, yes, but aren’t all clothes androgynous when he deconstruct the binary opposition between male and female?”

“Sure?” Kelly said, not sure exactly what Andy had just said.

“Gender is just a construct,” he continued, though he didn’t know where the words had come from. “The patriarchy defined masculine as strong, feminne as weak, thus the male shame at wearing anything labeled for “girls” or “women.” It’s absurd!” Not having a clue where it had even come from, Andy now felt not just a willingness to wear Kelly’s clothes, but a need. “It’s time for me to reclaim my right to feminine power.”

He slipped off his coat and shirt. Kelly hid her shock at how thin he’d become, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight taper to his waist, the slight curve to his hip. He reminded her of how she’d looked as a pre-teen girl.

Even more shocking were the words coming out of his mouth. Patriarchy?  Feminine power? From Andy? The guy who called women athletes a joke and said women shouldn’t be allowed to officiate sports because they were “too emotional?” He sounded like he’d just walked out of a feminist reading circle. Seeing his new willingness, she decided to have a little more fun. “Oh, wait. You should wear a camisole underneath.”

Camisole? Andy thought, a little thrill going through his whole body. There was no such thing as a male camisole to his knowledge, so this would be the perfect way for him to affirm his new commitment to his feminine side. “Please,” he said. Kelly handed him a thin little scrap of white material with spaghetti straps. “Do you have something,” he asked, “with a little lace?”

Kelly cupped his smooth cheek. “I sure do.”

That night when Spike! went live, the audience was surprised to see Andy wearing a buttery yellow jacket with wide, feminine lapels, a baby blue silk shirt, and a rose colored criss cross bow tie with a pearl pin at the collar that matched the hanky sticking out of his breast pocket. No one could see the women’s slacks.

Lindsay was, of course, not surprised.

Her daughter, Jane, curled up next to her, said, “Why is dad dressed like some stuck up prep school girl?” Indeed, he looked like he’d stepped off the set of Heathers.

“He’s finding himself,” LIndsay said. “And we shouldn’t judge people by their clothes.”

Brian smiled. “I like it. His hair is pretty.”

“It is,” Lindsay agreed. “I like it, too.”

As soon as the show ended, Andy reached up and fiddled with the hair pins in his bun.

“Good show,” Bob said as he walked by the desk.

“You were great tonight,” Kelly said. “Really on point.”

Andy really did feel good about his performance. In addition to his reading from the teleprompter being excellent, his diction precise, he’d ad libbed a couple top notch one liners, and just as important, he’d set Kelly for a few of her own. “Thanks, sister,” Andy said. “I think it’s these clothes. Thanks for saving me tonight. Look, I’ll change and-”

“You know what? You can keep the outfit. It never looked so good on me.”

Andy, driving home, drummed on his steering wheel. Wow. He’d never felt so confident as he had  in the clothes Kelly had given him, and he was not lacking for confidence. He’d never looked so good. The cut of women’s clothes perfectly fit his body, and the colors! The men’s department was so drab. It was just another form of sexism.

He thought about the insights that had come to him. The patriarchy! He hated it so much. The expectations for women were insanely wrong, and it was not cool the way femininity was infantilized. Well, Andy decided he would strike a blow for equality and show the sisterhood he was a true ally.

“I will be shopping in the so-called women’s department from now on,” he declared. “I want the whole world to know I am not ashamed of my feminine side, and no man should be!” They should do away with separate departments for men and women, anyway, he decided. Just like boys and girls toy aisles. That way all the men too insecure to wear a shirt just because it was labeled “women’s” could get over themselves.

Hearing himself, Andy nodded with self-approval. He was really glad he’d become so progressive. Maybe, he thought, one of these days, I’ll even wear a skirt! As if, he thought. I mean, a man had to have some limits.

Didn’t he?

His phone buzzed and a text message appeared on his dashboard screen. It was Brian. “Dad. Love your outfit.”

Awww, Andy thought. Cool.

That night, Andy found himself obsessing over feminist blogs: Everyday Feminism, Bitch Media, The Women Takeover. He felt like he’d been asleep his whole life, and he had so much to learn. The patriarchy, like, so totally sucks! He thought, fidgeting with his ponytail. And he’d been totally complicit!l

Well, not anymore, he vowed as he climbed into bed. Not anymore!

Lindsay had popped in to check on Andy, and seeing him intently focused on an article entitled, “Learn to Love Your Vagina” had made her burst out laughing. He had no idea how relevant it would be to him and soon— and yet? Would she really go through with it? Give Andy a vagina?

I am not giving him a vagina for revenge, she assured herself. I has nothing to do with him cheating on me. It doesn’t.. She sighed. Seriously it's for the kids. She looked at the cover of the magazine and smiled. Yes, it was time. Now that he was too embarrassed to go to the gym, Andy needed to exercise, and what could be better for a budding, 4th wave feminist than some girl- power  pole dancing?

Andy got up early Saturday morning. He had so much to do. Breakfast was a slice of cantaloupe and some cottage cheese. As he ate, he “stumbled” over an article on the Fit and Feminist blog about pole dancing, and it  had seriously caught his attention. It was pushing all his buttons– reclaim  sexual power, yes, show solidarity with sex workers, double yes, get a hot ass and tone legs, yes… Well, he didn’t care about that last part so much he told himself, but defying the patriarchy was so important for us.

Us. He shook his head. Look at me, identifying with women. I can’t even believe how totally enlightened I am now. And yet? Pole Dancing? What if the guys at work found out? The girls? What if fucking Lindsay found out. I mean, I’m a guy, he thought, tossing his ponytail, and all this solidarity is good but, “Oh, My God!” He screamed.

As he’d been musing on pole dancing and how it might impact his masculinity, he’d idly searched for Pole Dancing Classes Near Me and there was one TONIGHT!  They had online booking, and there was only one open spot!  He eagerly started to set up an account, whispering “please… please… please…” and then, “Yes!” He’d gotten the last open spot. Oh, thank God.

Oh, damn.

He must have made a mistake when he’d created his account. It may have been some kind of autocorrect error, because somehow his name had been entered as Adalyn Morrow, instead of Andy.

Oh, I’ll just let them know when I get there, he decided, waving his hand. No biggie. He was just excited to be taking his first ever pole dancing class. He’d need a cute outfit, of course. No biggie. He was going shopping anyway!

******

Andy stood, his toes right at the edge of the carpet that marked the border of the so-called Women’s Section at Nordtrom’s. He wore Kelly’s outfit. He had expected to march confidently ahead, plunging proudly among the racks of dresses, skirts, blouses and slacks. They stood there, beckoning in all those pretty colors and patterns. But there were people around, strangers, women and girls. He felt ashamed of his new desire to wear feminine clothes, however much he needed to– strike at sexism?

A young sales woman approached. Her name tag read “Free.” A sign from the goddess, Andy decided.

“Yes,” he said, nervously. “I’m looking for some new outfits.”

Free took in his look. She figured him for a preppy lesbian. “Let me show you a few things.” She turned and headed into the women’s section. Andy took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold, immediately feeling a surge of exhilaration that blasted away all his feelings of anxiety.

For the next hours, he lost track of time, Andy was a whirlwind of shopping mania, trying on dozens of outfits, making his selections. As Andy’s pile of clothes and shoes piled up, Free felt great. Her commissions were going to be sweet. At last, when Andy, utterly spent and completely satisfied, handed her his credit card, she gleefully rang up his purchases, telling how he had great taste and was going to look amazing. Among Andy’s purchases were some lacy bras, sports bras. He’d decided he would start wearing a bra in the name of equality, though he was very much a flatty patty.

Andy noticed the piercings in her ears. Another example of the unfair expectations placed on women. Another chance for him to show his solidarity. “Free,” he said. “Is there somewhere around here I can get my ears pierced?”

“You can get them done right here in the store,” she said, ringing up another commission in her mind.

“Perfect,” Andy said, then, because it was so important, he added, “Free, you are a strong, powerful woman.”

“Okay? Thanks?” She said. “When you’re ready, I can help you take all this stuff to your car.”

Later, as Andy made his way to his car, arms loaded down with his shopping, Free trailing behind her arms equally loaded, diamond studs flashed in his earlobes, and he had two smaller piercings as well. They loaded up his car. Andy adjusted his new, oversized brown frames and handed her a generous tip. Girls had to stick together. Or, he corrected himself, girls and their allies!

Later that evening, as Andy climbed out of his car at Foxy Fitness and Pole Training Studios, he couldn’t tell if he was super excited or super scared. Maybe both! He was wearing his new outfit– yoga pants, a flouncy racerback tank top with pink trim around the collar and sleeves, and, pink and white Converse All Stars. The straps of his sports bra across his shoulders were visible, running inside the straps of his tank. New outfit, new people, new gym. How would the girls feel about a guy taking a pole dancing class? He couldn’t help but wonder. It was almost too much. “Be brave!” Andy told himself. “Strike a blow for equality!”.

As he walked in, he was instantly greeted by a smiling young woman wearing a Foxy Fitness tank top. “You must be Adalyn,” she said. “Welcome to Foxy Fitness! I’m Kim.”

“Actually,” Andy started to say, meaning to tell her his real name, but instead he found himself saying, “I’m pretty nervous.”

“Oh, don’t be,” Kim said. “Everyone here is so friendly. Come on. I’ll show you around. Do you go by Addy?  Lyn?”

It was the perfect opening for him to correct her, but instead he said, “Adalyn. Just Adalyn.” What the hell? He guessed he kinda liked it. Class started with yoga, some body weight exercise and a lot of lunges and squats. “It takes strong legs to work the pole!” Krista, the trainer said as Andy strained, his glutes burning. “And the ass of a goddess.”

The squats were killing Andy. His legs and ass were on fire. He almost stopped, didn’t think he could take anymore, but Krista, seeing his distress, ran over, screaming in his face. “Don’t you quit on me Adalyn! Don’t you dare. Up! Down! Up! Down! Three more!”

Andy pushed, forcing himself to keep squatting, pushing through the pain. 3… 2….1… Andy gasped with relief and fell to the ground. He wasn’t alone. Two thirds of them women fell down, relieved, while the fittest girls stood, hands on hips, haughty. “That a way,” Adalyn,” Krista said. “Keep that up and you’ll have goddess ass in no time.”

Andy smiled to himself. She didn’t need to know he had no desire for goddess ass, but he was enjoying the sight of quite a bit of it around the room. These women were fit.

Finally, the time came for them to work the poles. Krista showed the class the routine they would be doing. Music started playing. Katy Perry growling, “I kissed a girl and I liked it…”

Lindsay, sitting at home with the scrying stone, watched as Andy grabbed the pole with both hands, stuck his ass out and started twerking, then spun, putting his back to the pole and thrusting his chest out. He put one hand on the pole and circled, rocking his head side to side… His brow was furrowed as he strained to remember the routine he was supposed to do, glancing around at the girls on the other poles to see what they were doing, copying their moves..

“Smile,” Krista said to the whole class.. “Keep smiling. Remember, you’re here to have fun and get in shape!”

Andy smiled and kept smiling as he danced.

Rising up on his tippy toes, Andy spun, sort of half dropped into a split, wincing in pain. “You’ll get there,” Krista said, laughing. Lindsay was loving it. It came time to climb the pole. Andy wrapped his legs around it, hugged it, climbing, then wrapped his legs tightly around the pole, gripping it with his thighs and let go with his arms, dropping backwards, holding on only with his thighs and… “Ouch!” He couldn’t hold and had fallen off the pole onto the fortunately soft matt.

“You okay?” Krista asked.

“I’m fine,” Andy said. “Just a little embarrassed.”

“It’s your first class. You’re doing great.” Krista reached down, took his hand and helped him to his feet.  The rest of the class had finished their routine. Krista took Andy’s hand and raised it in the air. “Girls, Adalyn just popped her cherry!”

The class cheered and clapped. Her cherry? Does she think I’m a girl? He started to explain, but in front of the whole class and it just– well, he’d explain the mixup later. In the meantime, his legs and ass were killing him. The workout had been a bitch. Andy went over to one of the benches and sat, wiping his brow with his gym towel. He felt good, and he would be signing up for unlimited classes. The workout was insane.

A diminutive Asian woman approached. Pretty green eyes, a mermaid tattoo running the length of her arm. She had a nervous, tentative look in her eyes. “Hey,” Andy said.

“Hey,” she said. “I don’t mean to bother you or anything, but are you the guy, I mean person, from that sports show?”

Normally, Andy loved it when someone recognized him, but he suddenly felt like some kind of fraud.Would everyone think he was some kind of weird pervert, coming here, letting them think he was some chick named Adalyn? Anyway, he was busted. She knew it was him. A lot of people played the whole, are you game. “Yeah,” he said, looking around, lowering his voice. “I know it may seem like I was calling myself Adalyn or something but…”

“It’s okay,” she said, coming closer, sitting down, feeling more bold now that they’d spoken. “I’m Kim. Really. I actually just wanted to tell you I think what you’re doing is so brave.”

“What I’m doing?”

“Transitioning right on television, on a dude-centric sports show? You’re amazing.”

Transitioning? He wasn’t, well, whatever. He had a more important question. “So,” he said,twisting a loose strand of hair around his finger. “You’re a fan of the show?”

“Um, sorry?” She said. “I’ve never seen it. But, like I said, I am a fan of you.”

“But, then, how did you recognize me?”

“Oh, you don’t know? It’s all over social media since you started transitioning into a woman.”

Andy, it must be noted, eschewed social media. He’d seen too many careers destroyed by people posting stuff that got them canceled. Of course, Spike had hired a couple of social media consultants who ran accounts in his name and most of the other talent, using them to promote their shows. Once he’d found himself in the safety of his car, he pulled out his phone and started checking all “his” accounts. The Twitter-verse was roiling with comments about his look, his alleged transitioning. The girls- women, he corrected himself, who ran his account, had ignored the trending posts, sticking to their promotional posts, which made Andy feel relieved, but the posts?

Mean.

Gay. Homo. Clown. Boybitch. So much hate!

Yes, there was a supportive camp as well, praising him for his courage and assuring him- he giggled– that he was pretty. Really? He thought, though he was conflicted over  being pretty meant he was participating in the patriarchy.

He focused mostly on the hurtful, negative posts.

“Well,” he decided, pulling the hairpins out of his bun, shaking his head,letting his hair down. “No revolution ever came without a cost.” He started his car, doubly determined to show the world he was one man who was brave enough to embrace his feminine side! He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, ires screeching and smoking as he fishtailed out of the parking lot.

“She’s kind of a badass,” Kim said to Krista, who’d walked out with her.

“Yes, she is,” Krista said, watching Andy’s tail lights fade into the night. “I think Adalyn is going to fit right in here.”

At home, Lindsay nodded as she watched, pleased with how her formerly disgusting ex-husband was coming along. He really was turning into quite the fierce little feminist. She decided to make a few more changes, thinking about Krista and her comments about goddess ass.

Andy slept on his back, the delicate straps of his new nightie slipping off his shoulders. As his body changed, he began to squirm and then rolled onto his side, his hip now rising dramatically beneath the sheet.

Chapter 4

Sunday Jane had a Pop Warner football game, which Andy had decided to attend, Andy had not gone to even one of Jane’s games. He hadn’t wanted to encourage her tomboy phase. Now, newly awakened, he felt terrible, and he was determined to start making it up to her.

When Andy woke, he rolled over and put a hand gingerly to his chest, feeling a soft, round– breast? He felt like he was sitting on a pillow, but when he reached back to pull it out and toss it away, he felt nothing. Now what? He couldn’t think about it right now. His thoughts focused entirely on the rounded swellings pushing out the top of his nightie. He cupped both breasts, lifted and squeezed.

Oh, they were sensitive!

Pulling out the front of his nightie, he confirmed with his eyes what he’d felt with his hands. Firm, little round breasts the size of apples.

Lindsy watched, amused at his shock and confusion. That’s right, she thought as Andy stood and pulled his nightie over his head.Go look in the mirror. She enjoyed the sight of his plump, firm new goddess ass and wide hips stretching his boy shorts as he hurried to the bathroom, holding his boobs to keep them from bouncing. Oh, and those long legs! She’d given him sexy, toned and rounded dancer’s legs to go with that ass.

Nick stood in front of the mirror, hands over his breasts, seeing the rounded flesh, feeling the soft weight in his hands. No way, he thought. No way. He removed his hands and his breasts bounced into place. This was too much. I’m a guy, he thought, mind once more swirling with Kim’s comments about him transitioning. How can I suddenly have knockers?

They were– pretty. He had small, pink nipples– small for a woman, that is.  His breasts, he decided, rating them as he was accustomed to rating tits, were good, with a nice curve, his nipples pointing upwards.   If they’d been bigger, he’d have given his tits a 10. He threw an arm across his chest, unnerved by the sight of those firm little boobs swelling from his chest beneath his pretty collar bone, little, soft round shoulders.

His eyes dropped to the rest of his body– the dramatic tapering to his small waist, the flaring out of his wide, round hips.  Doctor, he thought in a panic. I need to see a doctor!

Andy was, it is to be remembered, a boob guy. He loved breasts, the bigger the better, and to see himself now blossoming terrified him. He was supposed to play with women’s tits, ogle them. He wasn’t supposed to have them.

Lindsay made a change, smiling.

And yet, Andy paused, Stepping closer to the mirror, cupping and lifting one of his breasts. I’m being sexist, he realized. Body shaming myself. It was a blind spot, he realized. He thought a woman’s figure was embarrassing, humiliating?

No. Women were beautiful and strong. Different, not less. Different. How wrong of me, he told himself, to feel ashamed just because I have breasts, hips. He turned to the side and saw his big, firm booty for the first time, the way his breasts thrust out from his chest. “I need to embrace this,” he said. ”Be proud of my body!”

“Yes, you do,” Lindsay whispered.

Andy pushed his boy shorts down to his knees and sat to pee. He’d decided it was sexist to stand and pee, when women had to sit. Lindsay thought he looked so cute.

“Mom!” Jane shouted from downstairs. “I can’t find my cleats!”

“I’ll be right down,” Lindsay said. Kids. They’d lose their heads if they weren’t attached! Oh, well, she decided, putting her stone away. She’d just have to see what outfit Adalyn picked out when he got to the game.

The game was about to start, and Lindsay found herself looking around, annoyed. Where was Andy? The teams were on the sidelines, though Jane, as one of the team captains, was in the center of the field for the coin toss. “Where’s Dad?” Brian asked, looking forlorn, a cheer palm in his hand.

“I’m sure he’ll be here,” Lindsay said, wishing she’d brought along her stone.

“Lindsay!” She heard a voice call, and looked over to see Andy carrying a large tupperware container. His outfit didn’t disappoint. He looked like a preppy, suburban mom in his clam digger jeans, dove colored hoodie, the word ‘love” in pretty cursive letters stretched across his perky new breasts. Judging by the shape and lift, he’d worn a push up bra, likely padded, and Lindsay thought it was cute he wanted his puppies to look bigger.  He’d put his hair in a ponytail, tied back with a big, orange and blue bow– the team’s colors. His little boots were cute.!

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, flustered. “I made snacks!” It had been a last minute impulse when Andy had realized how unfair it was that the mothers always had to bring food for the kids.

“Put them over there!” Lindsay said, pointing toward the snack tent.

“Oh!” Andy said, hurrying over to the snack tent.

“Was that your husband?” Monica, an old friend who always sat with Lindsay during the games. Her son, Peter, and Jane were friends.

“Yes,” Lindsay said. “Maybe you haven’t heard?”

“Oh, I’ve heard,” Monica said, shaking her head in disbelief as she admired Andy’s incredible ass in those tight jeans. She wished she looked like that from behind!  “He’s all over social media, and it’s all the kids talk about. But seeing him?”

“I’m proud of him,” Lindsay said.

“So, it’s still him?”  Monica asked, not to be snarky. She knew all about identification and pronouns. A lot of her co-workers had begun to indicate she/her or he/him or they/them on their emails.

“He still identifies as male,” Lindsay said. Thinking, at least for now.

In the past, Andy had sat with the dads, but today he came over and sat, knees together, next to Lindsay and the other moms.. The whole gender segregation thing was so retro. Monica and the other moms were friendly, complimenting him on his outfit, and especially his football shaped earrings. Monica had to ask Andy about his workout routine. “Your ass is amazing.”

“Goddess Ass,” he said with a little raise of his shoulders. “I have Foxy Fitness and their pole dancing class to thank for that!”

“Pole dancing!?” Monica said.’

“My inner thighs are killing me.”

Janet Waterson, a conservative, huffed, got up and moved away to sit by herself.

Brian, who’d been playing with some of the other kids, came and joined his family in the stands. “Hey, Dad. “

“Hey, B,” Andy said, giving his son a hug. Brian had been growing his hair out, and now had a rounded, chin length bob, a single barrette sweeping the bangs away from his eyes. “Your hair is so pretty!” Andy said, idly playing with it, straightening his barrette. Andy was ashamed of how he’d treated his son. And, as with Jane, he meant to make up for it now.

“Thanks,” Brian said.

Andy couldn’t believe how backwards he’d been, thinking Brian was weak. He’d been so brave the whole time.

The moms all greeted Andy– he almost told them he preferred Adalyn now– and then the game started. “Go Tigers!” Andy shouted.

Jane pretended she didn’t hear him. She was still pissed at him, and even more now that he was “finding himself” after he’d been such an asshole to her and Brian. Besides, why did he have to be such a preppy girl? He reminded her now of the shitty mean girls at school.

Jane played linebacker, and Andy couldn’t believe how quick and aggressive she was, meeting running backs in the hole, thump!, knocking them to the ground, shedding blockers. She even intercepted a pass. She was a badass.  The Tigers won, and Jane fist-bumped the other guys.  Lindsay, Andy and Brian went down to congratulate Jane. She’d taken her helmet off. She had blackout under her eyes, now smeared with sweat.

“You were so good today,” Andy said. She looked so butch, he marvalled, as Jane ran a hand over her short hair. He almost found her a little intimidating.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said, trotting off. “I need to see coach.”

“She’ll come around,” Lindsay said, putting a hand on the small of Andy’s back, taking a peek at his epic ass. It looked so good, so plush and yet so high and firm, a dancer’s ass. She really wanted to feel it, but no. She didn’t want Andy to get any ideas..

“I hope so,” Andy said.

Oh, what the hell. Lindsay couldn’t resist and gave him a pat on the ass. It was bouncy, but firm, truly spectacular. “You’re looking good, by the way,” she added.  “I really like the new you.”

“Thanks,” Andy said, rolling his eyes bashfully and tossing his ponytail. “Let’s go get some snacks!”

After saying goodbye to Lindsay and the kids, Andy went home and turned on an NFL game, mostly by force of habit. He curled up in a corner of the couch with a cup of chamomile tea. Talk about the patriarchy, he thought. Half-naked women on the sidelines, cheering on competing males. Ugh!

Lindsay made a change, and Andy found his outrage surging.

Both of the announcers were, of course, men, as was every single member of the “crew” that did the halftime report. Male voices are privileged, he realized. I am privileged, and I am oppressing women unintentionally with my voice! More, there needed to be more women’s voices in sports!

I need a woman’s voice, Andy decided. I owe it to the sisterhood!

Andy searched for “How to Sound LIke a Woman,” feeling pleased and relieved to find out it was possible. It was another big step. His voice was his brand, and he felt he would be re-branding himself in a serious way. But, he had to. He owed it to women everywhere. Andy learned about changing the placement of the voice, increasing the frequency, and he spent the rest of the night practicing, wanting, needing, hoping he could sound like a woman.

The Andy that walked into the studios at Spike! TV Monday afternoon bore little resemblance to the man he’d been just a few weeks ago. He had a floral scarf tied around his hair, and his now burgeoning B cup breasts strained against his taffy pink angora sweater, while his eggshell slacks struggled valiantly to contain his plump ass. Earrings and bracelets sparkled, and no one could miss the clicking of his new heels as he walked elegantly across the studio floor. He had his “On air” outfit in a clothing bag. He knew it would take a few days for the new, tailored outfits to arrive once they took his measurements.

Lindsay had also begun to make gradual alterations to his face, so the audience would recognize him as his face changed. His eyes were getting bigger, chin and nose smaller, as if he were slowly becoming his own little sister. Andy hung his outfit in his dressing room, then took a plant he’d bought over to Kelly’s.

“Just a little thank you for all your support!” He said, placing the plant on her dressing table. She really needed to brighten up the place!

“Thanks,” Kelly said. “You, uh, sound a little different?” And, she couldn’t help but notice, did he have boobs? Was he wearing breast forms?

“Oh,” Andy said, putting his hand gingerly to his throat, the clear varnish on his lengthening nails catching the light. “I’ve been practicing. I am rejecting all male privilege, and the advantages that come from sounding male.. And, it’s so important for little girls to hear more women’s voices in sports, don’t you think?”

Andy now had a rich, melodic alto. It wasn’t extreme or overly youthful. He was a broadcaster, but anyone closing their eyes and hearing him speak would identify him as a woman. Kelly wasn’t sure there was anything wrong with a man sounding like a man, but she was sure she loved that Andy now wanted to sound like a woman. “You are so right,” she said. “And you sound great.”

Andy smiled, pleased. “Your approval means the world to me.”

There was one more injustice Andy felt he needed to correct. When he sat down to have his makeup done, he explained to Andy that his makeup should be done the same as Kelly’s. “If she has to wear full makeup, then I should, too.”

“Well, if you insist,” Frankie said, pulling  the few loose strands away from Andy’’s face so he could get to work. He wasn’t sure how far Andy wanted to go.  “If you’re serious, I should do those brows and you’ll need eyelash extensions.”

“Do it,” Andy said, eyes hard with determination. “To hell with the patriarchy!”

“3….2…..1…” The lights came up. Andy looked gorgeous, with his long, mascaraed lashes. “It’s time to Spike!” He said, proud of his new, feminine voice. He’d eschewed his usual jacket, opting for a silk blouse and a long, string bow tie.. “I’m Adalyn Marrow, and this is my co-host, Kelly West, and we are here to fill you in on all the latest news from the world of sports! Kelly?” Andy’s blouse celebrated his new breasts. It was no accident. He wanted to show the whole world a man could be proud to have full, round breasts.

After the show, an annoyed Bob approached the desk. “You Adalyn now?” He said.

“Adalyn?” Andy hadn’t even realized he’d called himself Adalyn.

“Yeah. You introduced yourself as Adalyn without even clearing it with me or anyone else.”

“So now I have to clear every decision with you just because you’re a man?” Andy said, his voice rising with feminist ire.

“No,” Bob said, though he suddenly felt a little nervous. Legal had warned him not to risk any comments about Andy’s transition. “Because I’m your director.”

“Let’s just cool down,” Kelly, ever the peace-maker, said, covering Andy’s hand with her own. “I’m sure it was just a mistake.”

Bob made a grunting sound.  The girls were teaming up on him, and he didn't want that fight, “Well, it’s a good thing ratings are up,” he said. “At the end  of the day, it’s all about eyeballs on screens.” He walked away, shaking his head. The talent! If only it were possible to do a show without  the “talent.”

“Did you hear that?” Kelly said. “Ratings are up!”

“Oh, my god!” Andy said. They shared a sisterly hug.

It was true. With all the social media buzz, the audience for Spike had been growing, and most importantly in the eyes of the network executives, Adalyn and Kelly were growing an ever larger number of female viewers from the vital 18-34 demographic. The already male audience had remained stable, but the sales team which had mostly been filling ad times on Spike with ads for trucks, erectile dysfunction treatments and beer, now added Clairol, Oil of Olay and Tampax to their client list. The male viewers might have grumbled as their male space was invaded with women selling “ever young” Covergirl makeup, but they kept watching. Adallyn and Kelly were both hot as hell.

Andy signed an agreement to promote Tampax Maxi-pads, and soon there was a billboard in Times Square featuring him frolicking in white pants, clutching a box of Tampax to his chest. As far as Andy was concerned, it was the most important thing he’d ever done to show his support for women. He’d even started to wear a pad in his panties for three days each month. It was awkward having that bulk between his legs and took some getting used to, but he simply must. Because equality.

He booked an appearance on The View. Of course, the subject of his commitment to feminine protection came up. “So, you actually have begun to use Tampax?” Whoopi said.

“That’s right,” Andy said. “It’s one way I can show my solidarity with women everywhere.”

“But, you know, if you don’t need one, you don’t need one,” Whoopi said. The audience whooped. “I’ve been through menopause, you know? I earned the right to not shove a wad of cotton in my pants!” Cheers.

“But for me it’s more about shedding al vestiges of male privilege,” Andy said proudly. “If women have to wear heels, I have to wear heels. If women have to wear make-up, I have to wear makeup! And, if women have to use feminine protection once a month, then by the goddess, I do, too.”

The audience cheered. Most of them weren’t sure it was totally necessary, but they liked where Andy’s heart was. Besides, though he seemed in denial about it, they could all see that she identified as a woman.

“Maybe we should just stop demanding women torture themselves with high heels all the time,” Joy Behar chimed in to the loudest cheers of all.

“Yes!” Andy said, his voice rising in pitch and fervor as he raised his hand, his fingers spread in a V. “But until that glorious day, I will suffer with my sisters!”

Within minutes, it was a meme, a Gif that went viral. Andy’s girl power moment. He would cherish it forever.

Chapter Five

A few days later, Lindsay sat watching Andy’s new Tampax ad on Youtube. She  felt her ex-husband was just about done. There really was just the last big change– or two. She still felt a little conflicted about giving Andy a vagina and womb, though the thought of him having his first period was delicious. He could start using those tampons he shilled for, and she doubted he’d be wearing white pants when Aunt Flo dropped by for a visit!

But it just seemed almost violent to her, castrating Andy.. She called Tatiana, and they talked. As usual, The Fixer had the perfect solution.

****

Andy sat, curled up in a corner of the couch, idly filing his nails while listening to one of his favorite podcasts– Mother Jay’s Hut. He had the kids and after the nightly struggle to get them to bed, they were finally asleep. Thank the Goddess! He needed some me time.

Mother Jay was talking about one of her favorite topics– The Secret Power of Sensitivity. She happened to mention she was giving a seminar in New York! Andy sat up. He had to be there. He loved Mother Jay and was obsessed over feminist seminars! He went to at least one every week now!

What a great chance to network with powerful women! He grabbed his smartpad and signed up right away: Adalyn Morrow. Non-binary. It was like Christmas came early!

It was such a big event that Andy decided the time had come for him to wear his first skirt. He went to his closet and started to plan his outfit, though he knew he’d probably change his mind five times between now and the event. It was  so hard to find just the right outfit, and he wanted to impress the women and, if he got a chance to meet her– was it even possible he could be so lucky?– Mother Jay.

All week, Andy felt like he was going crazy with anticipation. Thank God he had pole dancing classes! They really helped him deal with anxiety, and besides he was assembling a girl squad at Foxy Fitness–  really amazing women, who were so supportive.

Finally, the night came, and Andy nervously walked into the hotel ballroom in a rusty gold sweater and a brown skirt, sporting the big, brown frames that made him look sexy and smart. He decided to go braless, and he noted he wasn’t alone, though with his D cups he really felt he needed a bra most of the time. He’d read a lot of articles about bras , going back to the bra burning days held by old-school feminists. The thing was, though, he needed the support, and it had nothing to do with the patriarchy. Still, sometimes a guy had to make a sacrifice for the cause!  He was really glad he lived in the more expansive era of 4th wave feminism.

Female beauty was power, he’d learned, and there was no reason to hide it. Andy was a bigger celebrity now than ever, and he worked the room, meeting so many fierce ladies, making connections and, of course, posing for pictures. Mother Jay, wearing a long, flowing dress, began her presentation by putting a close-up picture of a vagina on the screen.

“Ladies,” she said. “I want you to take in the sight of power.” Cheers. She spoke for an hour, talking all about the power of women’s bodies, the ways men had made them feel ashamed of their sex. She talked about the miracles women could perform if they chose to, creating life within themselves.

When she finished and the lights came up, Andy sat, shaken. Oh, my god, he was thinking, oh, my god. He felt unfinished. Incomplete. His phallus was the ultimate manifestation of male privilege, and he would never be a true ally as long as he had it.  He felt terrified as a new and powerful impulse washed over him: I need a vagina, he realized. I’m nothing without one. This stupid phallus is a joke compared to the power of a vagina!

Andy could have begun looking into surgery, and it may be a shame and unfair that it would end up being so easy for him, but Lindsay had planted other ideas in his mind. He began, each night and each morning, praying to her, the force he called on The Goddess.  “Please,” he begged in tearful moments. “Please.”

And it was on the morning of the seventh day, that Andy woke and as had become his habit, reached down between his legs, but this time he felt only a soft mound. Andy sat up, excited. Could it be possible. His hand moved around in his panties, searching, searching, but there was no tube of stupid flesh, no dumb sack. He couldn’t believe it. He had to see it. Andy shimmied out of his panties, put a mirror on the floor, straddled the mirror and began to cry as he looked at the lips of his new sex.

“I’m a woman,” he thought, overcome with so many feelings. “Thank you, Goddess! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Lindsay thought, grinning. It was too perfect watching her stupid ex-husband weeping with joy over his pretty new vagina. Tatiana had assured Lindsay this was not a punishment but a gift, and it had been her idea to make Adalyn want it, so it would seem less cruel.  But, despite all her denials, Lindsay did see this as revenge, and as Andy’s tears fell and rolled down his massive breasts, she laughed and laughed and laughed.

Chapter Six

With Adalyn’s growing influence and appeal, the producers on Spike! Had approached her about putting together some kind of series where she could really bring women’s issues to the forefront. They just needed her to come up with an idea. Adalyn had insisted her co-host, Kelly, be an equal partner and co-producer, and the network had eagerly agreed. They were a proven success. The only question was, what would the series be about?

Kelly and Adalyn had spent a frustrating day brainstorming, and now slouched, staring with bloodshot eyes at a white board crowded with all the ideas they’d thought of and rejected. “Robin Roberts has done everything,” Adalyn said, ready to give up. “Maybe the timing just isn’t right?”  It didn’t help that she was having her period and felt bloated and tired, her breasts aching.

It was just then that Kelly had a sudden inspiration. “Cheerleading,” she’d said.

“Cheerleading.”

“Yes. It’s a sport. The girls work really hard. But, it gets marginalized because it’s female-centric. What if….?”  She got up and went to the white board, wiping an area clean. Then, she wrote, “Adalyn tries out for the New York Giants Cheerleading Squad?” And then she underlined cheerleading three times.

“Me? A cheerleader?” Adalyn said, some of her old male self struggling to rise to the surface. “That’s a little much.” He, Andy, the Andy that still lingered behind the scenes, deep in Adalyn’s subconscious, recoiled in horror. He’d suffered terribly– powerless, watching himself turn into a woman, hating the weight of those ungodly tits, and while Adalyn had wept tears of joy when she’d gotten her vagina, he had been right there with her, weeping tears of shame. Now, suddenly, the horror of playing that most feminine of roles had somehow allowed him to push Adalyn aside for a moment.

Andy uncrossed his legs and manspread, at least as much as he could in his tight skirt. “No way, he said. “Never.”

“What’s the problem? Let’s talk this out?”

“I can’t be a cheerleader,” Andy said, brushing the stupiud hair away from his face. “They’re stupid bimbos.”

“Adalyn,” Kelly said. “I’m surprised at you. Where’s your feminism?”

Feminism. Adalyn heard the word and started to take back control. “Y– no– Yes— um– ah—” She and Andy battled.

“That attitude is exactly what you and I can fight,” Kelly said, not even sure what was going on. “You can show everyone that a smart, powerful woman can choose to be a cheerleader if she wants, and that all women deserve respect!”

Adalyn shook her head, nodded, smiled, a pained smile.

“Think,” Kelly said, “of all the little girls.”

“Oh!” Adalyn sighed and sat back, relieved as she regained control. The mention of her obligation to little girls had given her the strength to push Andy back down into her subconscious. “I just felt a little off for a second,” she said. “I think this is a great idea. Let’s do it.”

“No….” Andy screamed, though no one could hear him. “No!”

Andy found himself wearing a pair of tight silk little short shorts, a sports bra and heels. He was dancing in front of the judges, a big, vacant smile on his face.  He was, to his chagrin, a great little dancer– thanks to Adalyn’s hours at Foxy Fitness. In fact, Andy was not in control, he was only watching as Adalyn competed on the last day of tryout to become a New York Giants Cheerleader. The Spike camera circled, catching his every move from three different angles. Kelly watched from her director’s chair as the man who’d once declared women belonged on the sidelines shook his breasts and ass, tossed his long hair.

He’s going to make the team, she thought.. She just knew it, which would be great because they could extend the series, follow Andy all season long, and he was going to look so sexy in that little cheerleader uniform.

When the time came and the judges called the names of the girls who’d made the team, Adalyn’’s name was the first one called. She and Andy wept together. “I’m a cheerleader!” Adalyn thought with pride. I’m going to show the whole world what a girl can do!

“I’m a cheerleader,” Andy realized in horror. He could only imagine what all the guys would think when they found out.

Adalyn’s life became super busy as she juggled hosting Spike! Cheerleading practice, modeling and photo shoots, all the while finding time to go to local middle schools and high-schools, colleges speaking about girl power! Plus, the demands of social media were endless! She was always tweeting, but it was sooooo important!

Andy setted in, growing numb to his new life as a woman, helplessly riding along as Adalyn lived her best life. He thought he’d been through the worst, but then, well, there was one more thing.

Andy found himself crushed into a lacy black corset, nervously checking his hair and makeup. The corset was crushing his tits, pushing them up and together, giving him the epic cleavage he would have loved if it wasn’t his. He wore fingerless black, lace gloves. The fact that Adalyn, running the show, was giddy with excitement and pride only made him sicker.

“Okay, girls!” Krista said, clapping. “Showtime!”

Andy stood, perched on 6 inch stiletto heels. It was the night of the graduation show for the second level pole dancing class, and Adalyn was so excited! She’d invited everyone from work, plus all her new girlfriends from the reading circle and a bunch of his old guy friends from Facebook and– of course– his ex-wife, Lindsay, who’d decided to bring the kids.

The music started, and Andy strutted out onto the stage, waving his hips side to side, smiling. He grabbed the pole, stuck out his ass and started to twerk as the audience roared. Adalyn glanced out at the audience, and Andy caught sight of some familiar faces– Bob, the perv, his tongue practically hanging out as he ogled Andy’s ass. Kelly, clapping. Jim and Paul, a couple of guys he knew from college that looked like they were about to spluge right in their pants.

And Lindsay. Fucking Lindsay looking like she’d just won the fuckiing Nobel Prize. Brian was next to her, adoring his pretty father, and Jane was covering her mouth with one hand, camera in the other as she made a video, laughing at her big ttitied father while he worked the pole.

Adalyn gave a wink and did a little wave at the audience, then started to climb the pole as the crowd roared. Feeling the hard, brass pole between his legs, Andy remembered all the guys— so many guys that had fucked him. Adalyn was a sexuually liberated woman, and she considered it an expression of her feminist manifesto that she had sex, and a lot of it!

To his shame, Andy had come to like the feeling of having a dick inside him to crave it, even, and it fucking drove him insane to have a guy eat him out. Andy loved the feeling of a man’s head between his legs, a rough tongue finding his clit. He almost orgasmed just thinking about it.

Adalyn had now pushed herself away from the pole, holding it with one hand, one heel pressed against it while she buried the other in her hair and began to swing around the pole, five feet in the air. Everyone clapped, and then in one swift move she wrapped her thighs tightly around the pole and let go, dropping back, her long hair trailing all the way to the stage. Her eyes met JIm’s, the guy from college, and there were sparks.

He is pretty cute, Andy thought, knowing his night was going to end with a good fucking. Adalyn was finishing her routine, walking off the stage, the crescents of her perfect ass swaying, her thong panties leaving nothing to the imagination. Andy wished he could pull it out. He hated the feeling of thong wedged between his ass cheeks. How is this even feminism, he wondered as Adalyn pushed through the stage curtain  and found herself being crushed in a big hug by Krista. “I’m so proud of you!” Krista said. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing!” Adalyn said. “I felt so powerful! It was liberating!”

Andy didn’t get it. He felt like a slut, not a liberated woman. He sighed. I guess I’ll never understand bitches, he mused. Even now that I am one.

END