Male Again

Male? Again? The fracking timing on this always sucked. Just when I think I’ve figured out some kind of pattern. Damn it.

So. Huh. I guess my outfit plans for the evening were shot. I threw the lacy red number back onto the bed and went to the “men’s” side of my closet. It was pretty sparse. Men’s clothing was boring as hell. I had just enough for the semi-formal dinner tonight. One day I might fix that. Probably not.

I stripped out of my underwear, glad that this set was elastic enough not to tear when I changed. I guess that’s something I should look for in everything I wear… but so much of the cute stuff wasn’t! It’s really just a good thing I never seem to change when anyone else is around. That made it easy to emergency strip before the size shift took hold and shredded my favorite dress.

Of course, I guess there would be other issues if I changed in public without warning. Leave it to me to be primarily worried about my clothes.

Anyway. Time to dress up in the mediocre button-down and tie I kept around. Linelle would be disappointed. She wouldn’t say so, but she always seemed to be a bit cheerier when I was female. Maybe it’s how I act?

Still, I couldn’t complain. Finding someone who took my unique ‘condition’ in stride was a rare thing. I’d had to move more than once when someone freaked out and started telling everyone around. It’s actually fairly amazing I haven’t been discovered yet. Although any dreams I had of being famous – or even moderately well known in any profession – had been shot when I first transformed at age sixteen. These days I was just happy to keep a low profile, find a friend or two who could keep a secret, and keep myself the hell away from social media.

Now, then. Close my eyes and let muscle memory handle the tie. Blasted things.