orangetoughguy | log post II

[Okay man. You've made it this far. Do it. Larry lifts a hand to knock at Freddy's bedroom door and falters for the second time. What the fuck do you say? Hello, I have tits. But... I wanted to let you know before you see a poorly dressed woman in these parts so you won't get mad even more has zero weight.

Waking up was difficult. This had to have been a dream even when he processed this was the City but for God's sake he's not a he right now. Lawrence Dimick is a fucking woman. His Superman shirt is the only thing that fits good enough on top of a pair of briefs that have to be safety pinned just so.

Do this. He has to. Be a man...even though he doesn't have a choice otherwise. Larry knocks. His fist looks smaller, more feminine. There are only small differences that make him recognize himself. The skin tone, the scars on his stomach, the tattoo of the clawing wildcat, those cannot be replicated. Should all else fail, that can be his proof.]

Hey. You in there?

Go away.

[Says a voice that doesn't sound like Freddy Newendyke and yet the tone and the way it 's spoken says it all.]

[It could be the door. It could be the hour. At least those are factors but something's afoot!]

Lemme in. I have something to tell you.

[He jiggles the handle. It is so much larger in his palm. Weird.]

[Okay that sounds like Larry and yet it doesn't sound like the old man at all. Fortunately for Larry the door's not locked. Unfortunately for Freddy the door's not locked. He scrambles to throw his jacket over his smaller shoulders.]

What is it!

[He pulls the hood over his pretty little head too.]

[Half a step into the door, and Larry notes a difference in height. Who is--? Wait. Waaait.]

Kid? That you?

[Let's clear that up first. In case there's some big misunderstanding on his part and the kid is taking a piss or something.]

It's me.

[Freddy doesn't even answer the first question because...because it's way fucking obvious it's him. Just like it's obvious that's Larry too. He'd recognize the Superman shirt and the tattoo anywhere.]

What the fuck happened to you?

[He asks from his hiding place which isn't much of a hiding place because he looks like a young woman in a jacket curled up on a bed.]

Fuck if I know. A curse.

[Just in case he holds his hands up helplessly.]

Woke up like this. How about you?

Yeah, me too...

[Green eyes give Larry's body a once-over. At least he translates well. Freddy on the other hand, well it's not that he's translated badly...he just doesn't like having these assets.]

I have tits Larry.

[The last time he was in this room they fought. Larry eases on in and poises to set on the bed. A little.]

Me too.

[Pretty big looking without nothing holding em up either. Clearing his throat he leans forward to try and get a look to the kid's face.]

You okay? I mean... it feels pretty fucking out there, but you're not--[fuck he's not even sure if he's ready to continue on with what the fuck is going on.]

I noticed.

[How can he not notice them? They're not exactly small. Freddy's on the other hand...well he's no washboard but the kid's not exactly bursting in that department either.]

It's fucking uncomfortable.

[He says while peering out from the shadow of his hood. Yeah the last time they were in here together they fought, but that's not going to interfere with Freddy's gender crisis.]

No kidding.

[A stranger in his own skin, a stranger in this room. Fuck man, there is no winning at all. He isn't forced out though so Larry gets a little more comfortable.]

Never thought this would ever happen to me, not by a long shot. Never say never I guess.

[The shrug is implied.]

It'll pass though, that sure helps to think about.

[It'll pass he says, simple as that. Fff. Freddy's green eyes are scowling but not in anger like what he's displayed before. This is just...just...annoyance for their situation ugh.]

I'm not going anywhere.

[Code for I'm staying home you can't make me do otherwise. He doesn't stop Larry from getting comfortable either.]

I don't think I am either. Nothin' fits, you know?

[Seriously, look at the shirt. What more can he do from there? Even Larry's socks are not fitting right.]

Can't go out looking like this. Lucky'd piss himself.

[A not angry scowl, that's a pleasure to look at. Though how strange to see his face, know who it is and still have a hard time recognizing it. Larry's own reflection is a trip.]

No shit.

[Freddy replies with only a mild hint of sarcasm and a bigger helping of despair. How fucking strange to have the old man sitting right here when only a night ago Larry wouldn't have dared come in uninvited. How fucking strange he looks the way he does.]

This is such bullshit. [He turns around to hide his scowling-turned-furrowing face.]

Not like anybody'd blame us for callin' in sick.

[No shit there either. Goddamn, Dimick say something that isn't predictable. Larry rubs his forehead, the tips of his fingers are rough as they usually are but...feels different all fucking over. At least one thing is normal, sitting here with Freddy. Kind of. Hell, that's the most normal thing he can want right now. And they aren't fighting. Yet.]

You okay?

You can't tell anyone what happened to me.

[Of all the fucking things to be embarrassed about, he'd rather be a talking dog than a woman. At least talking dogs are fucking supercool.]

...No.

Okay.

[Why would he? Well, except in passing to Pink but come on. The man himself is a joke.]

...I'll listen if you want to talk about it, kid.

[He lightly touches a hand between those shoulder blades.]

I don't wanna talk about it, Larry.

[No flinching for the touch to his back but the way he says well, he means it. Just for different reasons all together. Oh shit was that a sniffle?]

Hey.

[Was that really a sniffle? It's a completely undoing sound. Women crying is one thing, a woman that's Freddy that's not wounded crying that's a whole fucking other thing. Maybe he's got a runny nose.]

We don't gotta if you don't wanna.

[What to do? What to fucking do? Larry scoots a little closer.]

[He's gonna have a runny nose soon enough.]

I don't.

[Oh fuck oh fuck. The tears are coming down and he thinks he knows exactly why but he can't tell Larry that either. Men and women crying are two different animals, it's way easier to do it this way.]

[Both hands are on his shoulders, giving a squeeze.]

Freddy.

[Oh shit. He leans forward, trying to make eye contact. The further into Freddy's personal space the more aware he is that breast contact is a given. Oh well. Forgive him for that.]

It's gonna be okay.

Being like this sucks, Larry.

[Like a woman, he means. That's all. Like a woman. That's why the kid's not freaking out over breast contact right? Right.]

[Fuck it, Larry pulls Freddy in for a hug.]

We'll be ourselves again. Gotta wait it out.

[Being close together feels alien and familiar all at once. The kid's hair has always been soft but now it's especially long and especially soft.]

Don't let it get you down.

[Freddy leans into that familiar yet foreign weight. He's a woman but the size, the build, the tattoo, all of that seems right. And maybe in the wake of this week it doesn't really matter.]

Well I fuckin' hate it man. It's fuckin' bullshit.

[Being a woman. Right. That's what he means really. Nothing more.]

[God, it feels good to just touch him. It's been a week after all.]

I do too. I wonder how many fellas like us are out today.

[This is an attempt to distract. The bed doesn't groan under Larry's weight as he scoots even closer, almost spooning.]

Who would believe it?

[That wildcat tattooed arm stays around him with the other.

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