Being Serena Green

By Faith DaBrooke

PART III

It takes a great deal of courage to walk into a brand new school. The hierarchies are already set in stone, the cliques have been fully formed and the rules have long ago been established. Often the newcomers to not fare well.

All of this was blatantly obvious to Serena. Her stomach was twisted in knots that slowly wound back and forth. Standing, as she did, far from the entrance to William Henry Harrison High School, no one took much notice of her, and yet she saw everyone and everything. Taking long, purposeful drags on her cigarette she drank in the moment. Something was there with her; it wasn’t fear and it wasn’t excitement but it wasn’t far off from either. The same eyes had witnessed the scene twenty four hours earlier. The same eyes, yes, but they did not belong to the same person.

The person who stood before had been a slovenly, awkward teenage boy. Instead there was now Serena. Truly she was a wonderful specimen. Slender and statuesque she stood, her feet, bedecked in tall knee-high black boots with silver buckles, were alternately tapping nervously on the sidewalk, which was already laden with three or four crimson stained cigarette butts. On her hips hung a simple black skirt, wrapped and pleated and sealed with large silver buckles on the side; Serena let the straps hang down low like tendrils. A tight black t-shirt hung just over the skirt, letting a skull and crossbones stare back at anyone who dared look. Serena liked the Jolly Rodgers, not because she was a pirate, but because she thought of herself as a poison, something deadly.

Her perfect makeup failed to conceal an abysmal expression of fear, although she did her best to look complacent and bored. Wrists, neck and ears held jewelry and accessories of every sort; although the vast majority were black or silver. And her full, deep burgundy lips wrapped around her cigarette, breaking from time to time to let out curls of bright smoke that wound around her and up to the heavens. A bag over her shoulder, a hand on her hip, pacing slightly in one place, she let the last cigarette fall to the sidewalk and stubbed it out with her black platform boots.

That’s what everyone saw; a girl, a little suicide girl, a wonderful little beauty, a piece of the darkness. Serena did not fail to notice that even the prep guys, the athletes, the alpha males were sure to give her a good and solid glance. Though they would only rarely admit it, they all wanted a piece of the darkness. To them she was that, yes, but she was something else too; another piece of meat, another bit of prey, another conquest. Little did they realize that she was beginning to see them in the exact same way.

Immaculately made-up eyes closed one last time. She could still feel the mascara making her lashes heavy. Thoughts spun around Serena’s head. The day, the one day, a Tuesday, stretched before her infinitely. The arms of fear had reached out and embraced her tightly. Focus; she tried her best to focus and instead just felt the duct tape between her legs, felt the skirt drape over her bare legs, little gusts of wind whipping up underneath. Inside, she could feel her testicles, already starting to ache a bit and a shiver ran through her.

It wasn’t going to work, it wouldn’t work at all. No one would believe that she really was Serena. Even if they did, what was she going to do the next day and the next day and all the days and weeks and months and years after that? It dawned on her that her very next step could lead her on a path to something horrible. Could it be that all of it was just a really bad idea? What could she do? Run home and change and come back as Simon, that just didn’t seem right. Something about that seemed false somehow, although there was no way she could ever really wrap her mind around why exactly it seemed false. No, she couldn’t run home and live the rest of her life in boredom. With great risks come great rewards.

Then the bell rang and Serena opened her eyes. “What the hell,” she thought “What’s the worst that could happen?”

And she took a step forward.

There was a beautiful young lady sitting in front of her desk. Albeit a rather badly dressed young lady, but beautiful none the less. Well, kids today. But, it wasn’t the clothes that were the problem, well, actually it was the clothes that were the problem, more or less.

“It says here that you’re Simon Green.” said Mrs. Randolph, the little name stand on her desk clearly declared her to be the Guidance Counselor. The sign on the door had further explained that this was for all students A through M. Mrs. Randolph looked over the file in her hands and looked back at Serena who stared back with wide eyes and seemed to be fidgeting a bit.

“…you see, Simon Green was my brother, twin brother actually. You probably got his file from the old school….clerical error…you know how it can be.” Serena said, her hands held close to her body, her fingers playing absentmindedly with the hem of her black pleated skirt. Ever so slightly she ran one finger over her leg a bit, just to feel the cool smoothness of her own skin.

“Hmmm.” was the murmured response from Mrs. Randolph. “So where” she continued “is your brother, why is Simon Green not also attending this school.?”

“He’s dead. He died….last year. –boating accident. It was very sad…I’m still not over it….can we not talk it about it.” said Serena, making a mental note to thank the Academy, her wonderful agent Morty, the Director and of course God.

“I’m afraid that I need your transcripts, Serena, I can’t let you enroll here without the transcripts from your old school.”

Serena plowed on, all conscious thought gone, just plowing on because there was nothing else for it “The old school burned down, all the records were destroyed. So, I can’t get you the transcripts.”

“You brother’s transcripts are here.”

“Those were the only ones to survive…a miracle. Although a better miracle would have been if my brother had survived.” she looked out the window in what she hoped was a thoughtful way “God works in mysterious ways.” Looking back at Mrs. Randolph’s skeptical glare she felt the need to add “mysterious ways. Are you a religious woman, Mrs. Randolph?”

“Well, that’s somewhat beside the point here, isn’t it?”

“Transcripts, yes” Serena nodded.

 “Transcripts.”

“…strange enough, I took the same classes my brother did. We were identical twins.”

“Identical? You and your brother were identical twins?”

“…yeah. Not exactly identical, not as such, but very identical for non-identical twins. The doctor said so when we were born.”

“Did he now?”

“Oh yeah, I have a photographic memory.”

“Of your own birth, you remember your own birth, do you?”

“Parts of it, it’s really all a blur. No, no, I don’t actually remember it, mostly…just what the doctor said. He was a good doctor….had a mustache.”

Leaning back in her chair ever so slightly, Mrs. Randolph picked up her coffee mug, a black and white thing painted to resemble a cow, and took a sip. The file was placed neatly back atop the desk. While she had never encountered anything of this exact nature, her years of public school service had taught her never to underestimate the stupidity of teenagers. Serena was something else all together. What else, Mrs. Randolph wasn’t exactly certain, but definitely something else.

“I’ll tell you what, Serena, why don’t you head on to your algebra class, that’s in Room 211; end of the main hall on the second floor, and you just attend Simon’s classes today and we’ll get this bureaucratic paperwork stuff sorted out for you, okay?”

“Okay then. Thanks.” said Serena, picking herself up, grabbing her bag and leaving the office on the shakiest set of legs she had experienced.

“What is it, Jeane?” the Principal asked, looking up from the daily lunchroom menus spread across his desk. A trained eye would actually be able to differentiate his current work from the piles, mountains and rolling hills of paper covering the desk and obscuring some remarkably lovely photographs of his wife and children.

“Oh…just met our newest student.” Mrs. Randolph said, taking a seat and handing the Principal a manila folder.

He looked it over in a disinterested fashion and said “Simon Green, freshman. Okay.”

“Except that Simon Green is now Serena Green.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s actually quite lovely, makes a very pretty girl, although I think his fashion sense is a little off…very punkish, gothic. That sort of thing.”

“He’s here now?”

“Actually, I sent her off to her first class, we’ll see how it goes. Thought I’d bring this to your attention, wasn’t exactly sure what else to do really.”

“Oh, Lord. Are his classmates going to be convinced at all?”

“Hmmm…I think so. I think Serena could pull it off.”

Reaching into his drawer, the Principal took a bottle of Maalox and downed a sizable swig. He proffered it to Mrs. Randolph who gently shook her head ‘no.’ “Wonderful” he said “Absolutely wonderful. I hope he wins Prom Queen.”

“We’ll see, the campaigns can be fierce. What should we do about it? About him…her?”

“Keep it quiet as possible, that’s what we’re gonna do. Two years ago those two lesbians coming to the winter formal together and then all that nonsense from parents about Mr. Jenkins the drama teacher over at Eastboro. Keep it all quiet as possible, we make an issue of this and we’re screwed.”

“Understandable, but I can’t actually alter his records.”

“Yes you can, and you will. And you’ll also go ahead and give him all the P.E. credits that he needs. I won’t have him in there showering with the girls, even if he does look like Marilyn Monroe.”

“He doesn’t look like Marilyn Monroe.”

“That’s not the point. The point is…what’s the point…yeah, the point is that if anyone finds out about this, I’ll have the parents and churches on one side and ACLU on the other, with me stuck in the middle. Keep it quiet, keep it buried, I don’t want anyone to find out about this. If Mr. Fancy Pants wants to be little Miss Fancy…Skirt, then let him. I’ll pay for his damn sex change if it’ll cover my ass legally.”

“You’ll have to ask your lawyer about that one.”

“It had better not go that far. Go take care of everything, and keep Serena Green’s…issues between you and me. Don’t let on to anyone. We just have to keep it shut up for what, three and a half more years.”

“Can’t be too hard. And if anyone does find out, we can always claim that we were protecting a victim’s civil rights.”

“Yes, how PC of us, how wonderfully…diverse.”

“Progressive even.”

“Yes, now I’ve still got a ton of work to do. Tacos or pizza on Wednesdays?”

“Pizza?”

“Sure.”

With a quick smile, Mrs. Randolph let herself out. Rubbing his face for a second, the Principal reached into a different drawer and pulled out a different bottle all together, although this time the swig was just as long, if not longer. “First it’s tardiness” he said “then its drugs and guns and now transsexual teens. And to think I was naïve enough to think I would be making a difference.” And the bottle was empty a moment later.

Math had been alright, English had been alright, in fact so had History and Science. Of course, throughout the entire morning Serena had been on edge, but that was easy to conceal. Even if she hadn’t exactly concealed it well, nervousness was expected from a new student. Besides she had actually enjoyed getting up and telling a little bit about herself. A new day, a new school, a new role, a new life; it all simply demanded a bit of fabrication. It could be great fun creating a new person out of thin air, or more appropriately, constructing a new person on the ruins of the old.

Actually, Serena had spent most of the morning wondering if her legs were together, wondering if she was being feminine enough to fool her classmates and her teachers. But, it was surprising how easy it was getting used to it. After a couple hours Serena had really stopped having to concentrate on her speech, on her mannerisms, on her posture. After a while it just became second nature. Of course it was something a thrill to hit the girls’ bathroom; even if she did do it during class time so she could be alone. There was nothing finer than fixing her makeup in the mirror.

For a while she just stared at herself, lost in the beauty. It was still astounding to Serena to realize that she actually was the person in the mirror, that she was beautiful. It filled her whole body with joy to realize that she was that person now, that every day she could get up and become a gorgeous creature who got to wear the most amazing clothes, who got to turn the boy’s heads when she walked by. Eventually she just had to sigh and go back class, make up fixed, duct tape securely back in place, and just a slight bit of perfume to make her head swim and dance as she went back to learn more about the Carthaginians.

Of course, the Carthaginians were boring, so instead she spent the rest of the day wondering what it would be like to wear a thong, just a thong, nothing else, no duct tape or anything at all under her skirt. Just a fresh new pair of silk thong panties, maybe deep red, maybe black, and nothing else between her and the world. That would be totally hot.

Her first day of school and Serena could not wait for lunch, but not for the normal reasons students look forward to lunch; food, gossip, a break from books. Lunch meant she could see Trajedi, be with Trajedi, revel in her. There was so much that Serena wanted to tell Trajedi about; all the nonsense with the Guidance Counselor, the looks she got in the hallway, the boys with their eyes all glued to her, the feeling of her clothes, the feeling of joy she got from just being Serena. Finally, the bell rang.

High School Cafeterias are a microcosm of the world itself; there are hundreds of nations including the superpowers, the rogue states, the democracies, the fascists, those with great natural resources and those without. There is intrigue and politics, in-fighting, civil wars, revolutions, coups, terror attacks, surgical strikes and full scale wars. Sometimes there would even be assassinations; that usually made the papers, sometimes the TV news as well.

Trajedi was the undisputed ruler of her tiny kingdom. Lunch hour was when she held court; quietly she would sit, listening disinterestedly in the comings and goings and idle chatter of her subjects. Her barony, if you will, consisted of one table, way in the back near the wall. You could always tell Trajedi’s table, it was the one where no one wore anything but black and where even the boys were wearing makeup. Serena, of course, had no difficulty finding it, although her initial instinct was to head for the losers’ table. It wasn’t too far from Trajedi’s and featured a collection of gawky, rude, badly dressed boys who spent their time together alternately discussing video games, science fiction, comic books and death metal. Sometimes they would tell dirty jokes. All of their eyes lit up when Serena walked by, and their mouths collectively dropped when she moved toward them. Strangely enough, it was their reaction that reminded her that she was no longer one of them. Serena was something beautiful, she was above them now. So she went over to Trajedi and couldn’t help but smile just to see her.

“How’s my little girl doing on her first day of school?” Trajedi said, standing up to give a friendly hug as Serena sat down.

“It’s been alright, really really alright.”

“Excellent” she said, her voice taking on the sibilance of a serpent.

Making a slightly excited gesture with her hands, Trajedi smiled wickedly and looked over her subjects. “Everyone” she said “This is Serena, it’s her first day here, isn’t she hot though?”

There was a general chorus of agreement. Serena felt elated. As always, she stood in awe of Trajedi. Looking over, looking over for a bit too long, she murmured slightly to herself as she drank in Trajedi’s air. Today it was a long black velvet skirt and an ultra tight corset top, all in black, with a fishnet shirt over top. Her fingers broke out from the fishnets and each ended in a sharp and shining black nail. Something male stirred in Serena, but she buried it. At that moment, that lunch time, Serena wanted nothing more than to be Trajedi. Yes, she still wanted to have her, wanted to feel her and touch her and be inside her, but more than anything, she wanted to be Trajedi.

“So, Serena, where are you from?” he asked. She had been told his name was Chance, although all the teachers had called him Craig. His skin was covered in pale, ghost white makeup, with a couple of lines down his cheeks like the Crow. Short, black spiky hair covered his head and his clothes were obligatorily black.

“Everywhere, I’ve moved a lot” she replied, smiling ever so slightly.

“So how’s this particular town?”

“Same as anywhere, hopefully I’ll have more fun here” and she shot a sly glance at Trajedi who smiled back.

“Serena was thinking of hanging out with us this Friday actually.” Trajedi shot in “Because Chance’s band is playing at The Craft and we’re all gonna go see it.” Trajedi reached down and grabbed Serena’s wrist, causing Serena’s heartbeat to increase noticeably.

“Yeah, you should totally come out, it’s gonna be great.” said Chance, as his eyes dove all over Serena who seemed to be blushing a bit under her makeup.

“You know, Serena doesn’t have a boyfriend” Trajedi blurted out.

“What?” Serena felt her face go warm.

“She doesn’t. We’re hoping she’ll meet someone cool, very soon.” Trajedi licked her lips and pressed her nails a bit into Serena’s arm.

“You know, it’s cool” Chance said. He had been through this with Trajedi before, although he had to admit that her latest set-up attempt appealed to him. Serena was definitely cute, although a bit shy.

“You know, either way, we’ll definitely be at your show, Chance. Won’t we, Serena?”

“Sounds cool.” Serena said, although she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. Though, she had begun to rightly suspect that with Trajedi, she was never actually going to be aware of what was going on.

“We’re gonna go get some fresh air.” Trajedi announced, pulling up Serena by the wrist.

“I haven’t even eaten yet.” Serena protested, but to no avail. She let Trajedi lead her outside, past the portable buildings until they reached a small alley between the Maintenance Shed and the main school building. From her bag, Trajedi produced two cigarettes, slims, Serena noticed, and offered up one. Taking it, Serena let Trajedi light it and then let Trajedi have it.

“What the hell are you doing? I don’t want to date guys.”

“Chance is seriously cute, and he has a cool band. You guys would be perfect together.”

“You guys? That’s exactly it, we’re guys, both of us, I’m not gay.”

“Who said you were? And you’re not a guy any more. Forget about all of that, you’re Serena now, you’re a girl, when are you gonna realize that? You’re a fucking hottie and everyone in that building who has a penis wants to sleep with you. I gave you that, okay? I gave you that.”

“And I appreciate it, but I’m not into guys, I like you.”

“I like you too, Serena, but this is different. You don’t even know you don’t like guys until you try. Seriously, you should totally go for Chance, he’s so into you it’s not funny.”

“Really? He was into me?”

“Oh yeah, you couldn’t see it? He so wants you, he so thinks you’re beautiful.” Trajedi reached down and slid her hands under Serena’s skirt, between her legs “You don’t understand, this, what’s here, between your legs, it doesn’t make you who you are. Forget about it. You’re Serena now, you’re beautiful and amazing and different.”

Serena felt Trajedi’s hand stroking gently between her legs. A cold sweat came over her. “Do you think I’m beautiful?” Serena asked.

“I know you are and, babydoll, they all know you are.”

Serena reached down to kiss Trajedi, but felt her recoil. Trajedi drew back her hand and took a step away from Serena. There was a long drag on her cigarette and an extra loud exhalation.

“Not here, don’t kiss me here.” Trajedi took another drag “You know the deal, in a month you can have me, but for now, you’re Serena the new girl, and you should experience that, enjoy it and have fun with it.”

“I will”

“Have fun with Chance.”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t think about it, Serena, just go with it. Let me think about it for you.”

“All right, fine, we’ll go to the show, we’ll see what happens.”

“You bet, girl.” And Trajedi kissed her softly on the cheek. “You really are hot” she said.

Serena just puffed on her cigarette and smiled. It really was amazing, being a girl. Trajedi had shown her they way, and she realized that Trajedi knew a lot more than she did. So she decided that she would go ahead and try and experience all that femininity had to offer. It wasn’t just clothes and attention. There was more, there was power. Trajedi had that power and Serena felt drawn to it.

“Let’s go to this show” Serena said “I’ll see about Chance, okay?”

“You totally should, he’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you, except for me of course.”

Serena wondered if it was true, although she did have to admit that Trajedi was the best thing that ever had happened in her miserable little life. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder at Trajedi’s motivation in creating Serena, but for the time being it didn’t matter. Serena was happy to be herself, for whatever reason it had come about, being Serena Green was proving to be an amazing experience. With a deft flick of the hand, Serena tossed her cigarette aside and couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, let’s go to the show, it should be cool.” Serena said, as she began her walk back to the lunch room. “He actually is kinda cute.”

There was a laugh, more of a cackle. “I knew it, you so want him too. And, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

“That’s cool.”

“Wanna hang out after school? We could hit the Hop Topic, pick you out something to wear….hmmm? What do you think, little miss?”

“That’d be fun.”

The mall was, of course, just as they had left it. After a full eight hours of wearing a skirt, makeup, jewelry, boots, after a full eight hours of being duct taped down and trying to be feminine, Serena noticed how easy it had become. No effort was even required anymore. It was all so natural. Her very first day of existence had been absolutely wonderful for Serena. Being a girl seemed so right, so perfect. It actually made her wonder why she had waited fifteen years to try it.

Of course, he had waited so long because he hadn’t yet met Trajedi. She was her creator, her master, her protector and her shepherd. Trajedi was the model of femininity, at least Trajedi was Serena’s model of femininity, so it worked out well. There was still much to learn; proper makeup application, proper behavior, proper speech, but those were all just details. Serena did take a slight bit of time out to worry about things though. What would her parents think of their new daughter, could she really keep this up for three more years, for a lifetime? There were obvious questions about Chance; was he really actually cute or was Serena just playing along? What if they were alone together? How far to go, how far was Serena willing to go and how far could she actually go, due to certain anatomical shortcomings? If this was to be a permanent thing, and Serena definitely desired for it to be, how would it be dealt with? She couldn’t keep being Serena at school and being a boring old boy at home. Eventually she’d have to let her parents know. Serena felt the icy grip of fear when she thought about her parents.

It was all gone though once they reached the mall. To her surprise, Serena had convinced Trajedi to let her go into the more trendy stores, just to try on some clothes. Though they were stylish, Serena loved each and every dress, every skirt, every top. Though they were in pastel colors, bright yellows, reds and blues, each one made Serena feel all the more beautiful. It was amazing to her to think that two days ago she had been a useless, boring boy. Every nerve in her body surged with joy at the thought of her new life.

Finally they reached the store that Trajedi liked. Serena was forced to admit that she enjoyed it as well. In the end, Trajedi picked out a dress for Serena. It was vinyl and black and shined like water on a dark night. And it had ribbons and straps and all manner of wonderful little things. Trying it on, Serena fell in love with it instantly. There was a feel to it that she had come to love; a restriction and a freedom rolled into one. The tight bodice, the billowing skirt, it was such a contrast, such a joy to wear.

“You look incredible in that one” Trajedi let her know as they walked back to the car.

“Thanks, I love it. It’s so cool.”

“I think Chance will like it too”

“We’ll see.”

“Friday will be amazing, his band is really good.”

“Should be cool. Looking forward to it.”

“And you guys will be perfect for each other.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see.” and a great part of Serena wanted to see.

“You gonna come over and change back, or do you want me to take you home like you are?”

“I have to change back, my parents would freak if they saw me.”

“So let them freak. You’re amazingly beautiful now, you’re Serena, I’ve made you into the person, the hot woman you were destined to be.”

“They might not see it that way.”

“They will one day, I promise you, they’ll see as Serena one day and they’ll accept you for who I made you to be, for who you really are now.”

“One can always hope.”

“Hope isn’t necessary, believe me, trust me, I know what’s best for you, Serena.”

PART IV

In Serena’s dream she walks down a deserted street; a dark, alien street in some odd city. It’s a city that she visited many times in her dreams. Though it had no real existence, Serena knew the city well, and often in her dreams saw landmarks she could recognize. It was all imaginary, of course, but often Serena thought about drawing maps to help negotiate her strolls.

There’s a part of the dream where Serena stands atop a skyscraper looking down over the side. Somehow her dreaming mind knows that it is a two-hundred story drop and somehow her dream mind knows that the umbrella she’s holding isn’t going to be enough to enable a safe landing. So, like in every other previous dream of the same theme, Serena backed away from the ledge.

Then when the blaring alarm again made the dream world fold up into nonexistence one gain, Serena groggily came to and wondered what it would be like to jump off that ledge.

Once more it was baggy pants and a stained t-shirt and a few grooming bits, and down the stairs to breakfast and the family. At least this time it was Friday. It had been a week of hell and a week of ecstasy. It had been Serena’s first week of existence, and though her parents didn’t yet know it, Serena had found herself and although she had not yet realized it, there would be no going back.

“Simon, you never mentioned what you were planning for this weekend.” said Serena’s mother.

“Some people invited me out tonight. Some coffee shop or something.”

“It’s good you’re making new friends. I’d like to meet them at some point.”

“All right” said Serena, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and sitting at the table, opposite her mother and father. They never realized that Simon was incapable of making friends, he was useless to people. Serena, on the other hand, was someone around which people wanted to be. Inside her bag were her feminine accoutrements for the day; underwear, a bra, that ever-present roll of duct tape, the tight little torn sleeveless white t-shirt, the short black and blue pleated school girl skirt, some blue fishnets and copious amounts of makeup. Trajedi had been instructing Serena in the fine art of makeup application, and like all of Trajedi’s students, Serena had taken to it well. Neither of Serena’s parents paid enough attention to realize that her boots were actually girls’ boots. Luckily for Serena, here parents understood little of the fashions of today’s youth.

“You know” said Serena’s dad, slurping loudly on his black coffee “Saturday there’s an air show up in Claremont. Blue Angels doing stunts. Should be fun.”

“Dad, I haven’t been into airplanes in, like forever.”

“Just a thought.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Be sullen and depressing if you want, Simon, I’ll go and have a good time.”

“I’m sure you will.”

There was a slight look exchanged between Mother and Father, and Serena hoped that not too much of her new personality was shining through. Something just wasn’t right about a duel life, but there was no other way. Getting up from the table, Serena’s dad deposited his dishes carefully in the sink and gulped down the rest of his coffee.

“Have fun at school, don’t get in trouble.”

“I won’t. Geeze.”

There was a screech of tires and a couple of frustrated horn honkings. Trajedi. Serena ran to the door, paused, then ran upstairs and retrieved a shopping bag from under her bed. On the way out the door, she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and stole away into the morning.

“Hmmm.” sighed Mom “He certainly is acting oddly.”

“Teenagers. It’s their rainson d’ etra. Either that or he’s on drugs.”

“Or” hinted Mom, spying out and watching Serena pile into Trajedi’s car. She saw the looks on both their faces “Simon has a new girlfriend.”

“A possibility.”

“He’s just a fourteen year old boy.”

“Fifteen, dear.”

“Oh yes. Well, I’m running late.”

“Me too. Have a good day”

“You too.”

They exchanged a brief kiss and made their separate ways out the door.

This time Trajedi’s eyes were fixed firmly on the road. As was usual, Serena’s eyes were fixed firmly on Trajedi. The window down, her long shadow-black hair whipped about slightly. Dressed in all black with silver accents, Trajedi was her usual self; a teenage nightmare.

“When are you just gonna start being Serena all the time, instead of doing all this stupid changing shit?” Trajedi asked, eyes still single-mindedly fixed on the road, locked, second by second on the thin and blotted yellow stripes that slipped by as the car sped along “I hate seeing you like this, seeing you dressed like a …boy.”

Serena couldn’t help notice the mountainous quantity of disdain Trajedi managed to inject into the single syllable of the word “boy.” Her lips made it sound somehow distasteful, disgusting, like something to be whispered in shame in dark alleyways. It all hit Serena like a couple of tons of angry bricks and she couldn’t help but look down at her oversized black jeans with a sense of humiliation, as though she had somehow dishonored herself or Trajedi. That one word was enough to put Serena into the mood where people commit hari-kari. Her head hung low, crisp lines of black hair, neatly cut into stylish bangs, shielded her eyes ever-so-slightly from the early morning light.

“You know I can’t, Trajedi” she let out in a barely perceptible voice.

Trajedi made a noise, a disdainful grunt, or a discouraging cough. She continued driving, just driving.

“What am I supposed to tell my parents?” Serena asked, emboldened just a bit, bringing her voice up to the volume of a mewing kitten.

“Tell them the truth.” it was a half-sarcastic question.

“What is the truth, Trajedi?”

“The truth is that you are a beautiful young woman, not…this” Trajedi looked over and let her hand slide over the masculine abomination. “The truth is that you are Serena Green and that’s who you were always supposed to be. That’s why I created Serena. Your parents are going to see that, they’re going to realize that.”

“Wishful thinking”

“No, no it isn’t Serena. What are you gonna do, hide this for four more years? No, they’ll know soon enough and they’ll deal with it. They’re gonna be happy for you, the whole world is going to be happy for you.”

“I thought this was only for a month…” said Serena, thoughts of the promised sexual tryst with Trajedi floating through her head.

“Yeah” Trajedi licked her lips, whether it was done on purpose or done accidentally, Serena still noticed and paid great attention “One month is all you have to do, hell, you’re already twenty-five percent done with that.” Finally, Trajedi smiled and let her radiance glow through the car as she placed on careful hand on Serena’s knee and stroked her, like a pet “One month is all you have to do, but you’ll be too in love with it to just give it up. You’re already in too deep. You’re already in love, I can feel it, I can see it in the way you smile when the boys see you, I can see it in the way you move like a graceful dancer, in the way you love picking our your little outfits. You’re too addicted to Serena to ever give her up. You know how this is going to go.”

There was a large faction within Serena’s mind that couldn’t help but wonder why she was relying on Trajedi for the truth. Yes, it was the truth, she had to admit that. Being a girl wasn’t so bad, actually. In a lot of ways it was better than the alternative, especially when the alternative involved being another pasty, useless scab on the collective high school consciousness. There had always been a secret longing inside Serena to be something better, to be something unique, different and amazing. It had just never occurred to her that that was as easy as switching genders.

At many times in her life, at many junior high lunch table discussions, Serena had taken part in bashing the queers, making fun of those who were different, making fun of those who had been less than fully masculine. Of course, none of the horrid adolescents had had any real idea as to what gender or sexuality meant, they were all quick to distance themselves from anything feminine. For the video-game and death metal obsessed boys femininity had been something fearful, something deadly. A poison, a disease. Those boys who possessed it, even in the most minute of quantities were pariah, they were outcasts, stricken with the plague.

Now Serena realized how wrong she and her one-time fellows had been. Femininity was nothing to be afraid of, it was something to be embraced. In femininity, Serena had found true power, true beauty and true meaning. Her life was something now. No longer was each day just another period of existence, each day was something in which to rejoice; new trials, new tribulations, new joys and new pleasures. Without a doubt, joining the ranks of the female had been the best thing that had ever happened to Serena. It had brought delights beyond her wildest imaginations.

Obvious thoughts seemed to melt away. Trajedi’s plan of intertwining Serena with Chance didn’t matter anymore. Perhaps, thought Serena, it was just another pleasure. She had taken a chance on Trajedi one day, what seemed liked ages ago, and from that chance had blossomed a newfound understanding of the world. Perhaps it would be worth it to take a chance on Chance, Trajedi’s next little maneuver. Thoughts still came and went about Trajedi and Serena was powerless to stop those thoughts from taking hold of her conscious mind. Trajedi was a goddess and Serena wanted to sacrifice herself for her goddess. Serena wanted Trajedi and was willing to do anything for her.

For a moment they held hands. Serena’s slipped down to Trajedi’s bare leg and slid up, letting her fingers stroke her gently as possible between her legs. In an instant, Trajedi’s legs came together, locking Serena’s hand in place as Serena sighed ecstatically and felt herself increase in pressure and speed. As the car came to a stop sign, Trajedi closed her eyes and let Serena lean over and kiss her. For a moment, she let Serena stroke her between her legs, let Serena’s index finger twist her erect now erect nipples. For a moment Trajedi let herself take some pleasure in this girl Serena. 

Breathing heavily, Serena closed her eyes and made a million wishes, hoping upon hope that at least of handful of them would come true.

Classes passed, hours passed, all melted away by the gentle sound and warmth of rushing bathwater. Her clothes rumpled onto the bathroom floor, Serena eased into the steaming water and exhaled all the troubles of a weary day. Eyes open once again, Serena glanced around half-interestedly and realized that her new life had begun in the exact same bathtub, in the upstairs bathroom of Trajedi’s house. For a moment Serena looked down at her own bare body, then quickly closed her eyes.

After a minute or so of soaking in the heat, Serena took the foam to her legs and to her chest and stomach and arms, and with a clean pink-handled razor slid her hair off until her skin was smooth as still water. A slight bit of heat fell up Serena’s leg and she looked down at the brand new razor cut just above her knee. She watched as the dull red mingled with the water like the clouds of a storm front. Pain was a strange animal, for some reason it always seemed to run in a pack with pleasure right behind it. Her mind on the blood and the pain and pleasure, Serena finished the job that had to be done.

There were other preparations as well; moisturizers and delicate powdery scents that coated her body in an aura of clean, crisp femininity. Standing full and turning ever so slightly to the left and to the right, Serena checked herself out in the mirror and saw herself as she wanted to. To Serena the image was beauty transcendent; above herself, her past, above suburbia, above the world. Life, she realized, was easily created. As Serena watched herself, watched herself move with grace, saw the gleam in her own eyes, she realized that she could create new life, she could create a new soul out of nothing but simple, banal, suburban death.

That forbidden fruit, spoken of so often, wasn’t an apple. Those who read the text more diligently than most people, will find that Adam and Eve actually ate the Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. The first sin ever committed was that of pride, Adam and Eve sought forbidden knowledge. They were tricked into believing that they were worthy of knowing that should never have been known. Of course, they were led into, deceived by a particularly cunning serpent, but it was their sin nonetheless. Indeed they were punished; death was brought down unto the world, a punishment that would last for generations and generations. Their pride, fueled by deception, destroyed paradise and brought misery to the world forever more.

“God damn it, you look hot”

“Not now, …hold on” Serena said as she walked to the bed, her thin body clad only in matching cobalt blue bra and bikini cut underwear bedecked with lace. Smiling slightly, she picked her dress up off the bed and watched the light dance off the highly reflective black nylon. With a quick motion, she pulled it on, gently maneuvering it around her padded breasts until she could reach around, nearly pulling her shoulder out of its socket as she zipped up the back.

“As I said, God damn it, you look hot. Chance is gonna fall in love with, even more in love with you.”

The quick warmth of a blush filled Serena’s face as she smoothed her clothes and felt the plastic brush against the smoothness of her skin. For a moment she even felt elegant, albeit ever so slightly embarrassed by Trajedi’s declaration.

“I don’t know….we’ll see.”

“C’mon, you little slut.” Trajedi melted over to her and put her arms around Serena’s neck. Idly she played with the pink ribbons that decorated the front of Serena’s black vinyl dress. “You like to kiss me, don’t you? Make out with me, run your hands all over my body?”

“Of course”

“So when you’re with Chance, just imagine that you’re me and imagine you’re me kissing you, imagine that his hands are your hands, running over my body. You’ll absolutely love it.”

Pulling away, Serena went over and sat down at the makeup table. Her eyes closed, she let her legs cross and felt their smoothness against each other. Her head hung low and her cropped black hair fell down into her eyes. Picking up a tube of lipstick, she let it fumble around in her hand, dropping it back and forth. Eyes met her own eyes in the mirror and Serena stared closely, intently studying the lines and folds of her own irises. Inside the irises was a ball of black, in which Serena could see an even smaller version of her own reflection. The smaller of the two was upside down, looking back as if from another universe. Something stirred inside of her, something that wasn’t all together good or bad; something that was simply something. Abruptly, she turned around.

“What do you want, Trajedi?” she asked, her voice as quiet as a jet engine isn’t. 

“What do I want?” Trajedi asked coyly, pulling on a black a-line skirt and a torn old white t-shirt.

“What do you want? Why is…any of this happening?”

Trajedi smiled again, a mischievous smile, an old and ancient smile. After adjusting her skirt a bit around her sensuous waist, Trajedi slid up to Serena and placed her arms on the girl’s shoulders, pulling her around until they faced each other, eye to eye. With a slow and deliberate move, Trajedi brought herself down onto Serena’s lap until she straddled the younger girl. With a whip of her head, she let her hair strike Serena in the face before she finally blinked both eyes seriously and stared Serena’s morose guise carefully.

“I want you to be happy. You are happy, aren’t you, Serena?” Trajedi asked in a way which implied that she knew the answer. She did. “Haven’t you been happier in this past week than you ever have been in your entire life? People love you, you’re beautiful, you’re special, someone worth the air they breathe. Don’t you like what you’ve become?”

“Yes.” It was half a lie, but entirely true.

“Then, just be happy, you don’t always have to question everything. Some things you can just accept. Some gifts are just worth enjoying, Serena. Gifts like me.”

Their lips touched for just a moment and then they both pulled away. Serena looked down at her shoes; a pair of black stiletto heels with ankle straps and full three inch platforms. If shoes could kill, these would have a remarkably high body count. Slender arms brought them up and strapped them around delicate feet. Gently pushing Trajedi off of her lap, Serena stood up and took a few tentative, virgin steps.

Cool foundation met warm skin and a sponge danced the foundation across Serena’s face. Hands and fingers painted on eyeliner with skills Michelangelo could have only dreamed of having. There was the weight of mascara, the waxy taste of lipstick, the mild mist of light perfume that smelled vaguely of vegetation. The click of jewelry snapping on echoed like closing prison gates. Earrings stabbed into ready holes in the tympanic cartilage and Serena Green was born anew.

Heels clicked on the hard wood floors. Sitting back on the bed, Trajedi let herself sink down into the infinitely thick pillows and comforter. As Serena flitted back and forth across the tiny room, on various minor tasks, Trajedi just relaxed and let her eyes follow the new girl from place to place, from corner to corner. There was magic in the air, or rather, there was magic in Serena. Trajedi couldn’t help but feel the muscles in the right side of her face tense up a bit into a half smile. Serena was her greatest work of art, she was a beautiful young girl created out of thin air and she pleased Trajedi. It had been so easy, all too easy. Serena was a living work of art; twisted and molded into perfection so exact that only the best lasers could measure her.

Trajedi lit a cigarette with an antique Zippo lighter and reached her hand out for a cheap pewter gargoyle covered ashtray. A slipstream of smoke jetted out of her ruby lips. Another bit of ash fell. Another bit of expelled smoke wandered up to the ceiling and back down again. Sensing an imagined invitation, Serena sat down beside Trajedi, and stole a cigarette from her pack. Trajedi lit it without comment and instead just watched Serena light her cigarette and take a few puffs. Trajedi stared a bit at Serena’s long, smooth legs and feminine form. She watched with bemused attachment as Serena contentedly smoked, leaving burgundy stains on the cigarette’s filter. Serena was art, and Trajedi felt the calm contemplative joy of an artist enjoying their own work.

It was difficult for Trajedi, even though Serena was her creation, to wrap her mind around the concept that Serena really was just a boy. She imagined the penis underneath the tight black vinyl dress, held in place by deep blue panties and shining silver duct tape. She thought about it, but couldn’t exactly wrap her mind around it. For whatever reason, Serena had allowed herself to be molded so perfectly into the female form that even her creator found it difficult to remember what Serena really was. Serena had been the ultimate prey. Trajedi enjoyed that to a great degree. Her hand ran through Serena’s hair and she enjoyed watching Serena’s reaction; a mild outburst of enjoyment, of acceptance.

For a while they didn’t speak, just sat and smoked, letting the grayish blue clouds fill up the bedroom.

Their hands found each other; legs, arms, breasts, backs and necks. Eyes loosely closed, Trajedi felt her stomach squirm as Serena’s mouth found hers. Lost in the pleasure of the moment, she forgot herself, forgot who Serena was and just let herself be felt. As far as Trajedi was concerned there was power in sexuality, and that power was her ultimate tool; she could use it to twist people’s minds, to make them do what she wanted. It was her power and her ultimate strength. But, there was a large part of Trajedi that also enjoyed just being pleasure. Not being pleasured, but rather becoming pleasure. When the boys, or even the girls found her and took her and had her she became their pleasure, the vessel through which pleasure brought itself into existence. No longer was she just Trajedi, or even the slightly more human Mary Elizabeth, she became pleasure incarnate. And she got as good she gave.

A cry came up as she felt Serena pull closer. Wet and sweaty, she shuddered as Serena slipped her fingers inside. Serena pushed and stroked like a beast. And at that moment Trajedi realized that she needed what she needed and that circumstances could be damned. With a maneuver that would have baffled even the most talented of acrobats and contortionists, Trajedi pulled herself around until her legs came around Serena’s shoulders. A small, delicate black thong soon found itself thrown onto the floor.

“Come here…come here, baby.” Trajedi sighed as she pulled Serena by the hair into position. Feeling the intensity of the moment, Serena followed the order and immediately let her tongue find Trajedi’s labia and clitoris. Serena’s tongue and mouth lapping up like an animal. A thin stain spread across the comforter as Trajedi fell back, her stomach shaking and convulsing, her eyes closed tightly, her strained arms around Serena, nails digging into the girl’s scalp. Waves shook Trajedi’s hips, stomach and entire body as he rode the wave of pleasure; pleasure, it was hers and she owned it, could command it, make it do her bidding.

Really, Trajedi reminded herself, pleasure was just neuro-chemical signals firing in the synapses of her brain cells. She tried to remind herself of that, but the quickening temper of her veins and arteries kept bringing her back to the realization that she was actually enjoying herself. Shudders ripped through her body and she opened her mouth, but let out not a single audible sound. Up and down her body wracked itself until finally something broke and she let out an intense moan that repeated itself again and again. Serena was lost to Trajedi then, Serena was nothing, just another source of pleasure. Pleasure, that oh so tangible intangible that Trajedi felt wash over her, take her weight and her breath away. There are moments of joy in life, and at that instant Trajedi felt them all.

Unlike cotton, vinyl does not absorb fluid, and is easy to wipe off.

Dusk hung low, all about, filling the gray air with a sense of anticipation. A car pulled up and two young, beautiful girls got out and walked, one in front of the other. There was a gentle pounding that seemed to make the asphalt and the sidewalk vibrate. It was the first band, already halfway through their six song set. Outside sat or stood a few people. Like the two girls, their clothes were invariably black, many had innumerable piercings and tattoos.

The two girls stopped near a group of young kids. Both lit cigarettes and stood for a moment in silence, letting the muffled music from inside fill the atmosphere. Trajedi was in true character; smiling, laughing, flirting, smoking and holding the world in her well manicured hand. A bit behind her, a bit off to the side, Serena stood, watching, just observing the spectacle, the dance, the carnival of it all. Serena never noticed Chance, just a few feet away, watching and waiting for a moment to just stop by and say hello.

In her head, Serena felt the world change. Into what, she wasn’t sure, but she was sure that the world had changed. The straps of her shoes cut tightly around her ankles and already, even after a few hours, her feet were already feeling the natural consequences of the six inch heels and three inch platforms. She made a mental note to wear more comfortable shoes in the future. A slight breeze came up her dress, around her legs, reminding her of the full reality of her clothes and of her new person.

It had been just five days since Serena Green had first donned a dress, since she had first bid her male self goodbye. It seemed now that an eternity separated those two people; Zero and Serena, both of whom just happened to share the same body. She felt her body and felt herself try to move in a feminine manner, felt herself try to copy Trajedi in every way. Serena watched Trajedi flirt with the boys, watched her pull them along, watched her make their eyes light up. Serena watched Trajedi bring meaning to their lives and then for a moment she wondered whether she wanted Trajedi’s body or if she just wanted a piece of Trajedi’s power. Trajedi was an imperetrix, a goddess. The regular people, the mortals, they were her playthings. Serena longed to possess that skill, that ability, that power.

“Well, you wanna go in, Serena?” asked Trajedi. Serena saw her, standing alone in the crowd, her black skirt and torn to shreds white t-shirt, her pounds and pounds of jewelry, her fishnets and boots, her long black hair and her pale skin and endless eyes.

“Yeah” Serena answered back half-heartedly and, as always, she followed Trajedi.

 

since 07/25/05