Chrysalis Forming: The Chrysalis Series Part I
This work is copyrighted by Ronald E. Speener, Boethiuscell@gmail.com © 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and retrieval system, without the written permission of the copyright owned to the extent where permitted by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person is coincidental.
The story depicts procedures and practices common for gender reassignment; however, this story does not claim to be a medical treatise, and information is primarily for the purpose of the story and not medical advice. This story is written for adults with adult themes. If you are underage or live in a location where references to gay relationships or transgender people is forbidden, please log out of the story.
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Chapter I--Spring Arises
Tom knew spring in a visceral way, but the city did not know it. No trees lined the streets with crowns rimmed in tentative green. No hepatica saw purchase among the cracks of the pavement. No fiddle leaf ferns poked spiraled heads through last year's leaf litter. No bears awoke from berry dreams to roam the alleys for sustenance. The city only knew spring in cephalic way, not the phallic. Marshmallow bunnies and colored eggs and pastel gathering baskets decorated with cellophane grass littered store windows. For the city, spring was sugar, plastic and cellophane. Tom sighed, a hint of arbutus in his breath as he quickly walked down State Street, shadowed by the absent sun. Finally free for the weekend from his stint at Macy's, the former Marshall and Field's--an institution in Chicago for over a century and a half--now converted to the Macy's brand and struggling against the new world of the Internet. The world insisted on changing business, like the Earth sets aside winter apparel to embrace the spring, however artificial. Tom was proud to be one of the new, more hip faces for that change. Yet, he mused, lost in his own thoughts about his grandfather: staid, traditional, bound with the density of the past. Tom, reluctantly, was part of that density too.
"Heh, gorgeous," came a voice from a shade of a storefront bordering an alley. "Got a light?" Startled from his revery, Tom paused. The voice was in the higher timbers of tenor. It reminded Tom of a time past, long past--a time when dragonflies burred wings over pink water lilies in a cerulean pond edged with sedge. Tom walked over to the shadow, his senses alert but not afraid. "Sorry, I don't smoke--no lights."
"That is OK," a slight pause, "neither do I." The hidden voice was tentative, afraid, and seductive. Tom felt a pull toward the voice. Something--pale green leaves the first hints of spring.
"Then the request was a ruse?" Tom wanted to laugh at the audacity. He was accustomed to being chatted up. He knew he had the looks. It was his job. But this was more; it held desperation and hope. Not only in the speaker's voice but in Tom's soul too.
"Yes, definitely.'" the shadow responded. "I saw you in the store and needed to meet you. I..." a pause, "I am drawn to you." There was certainty in that statement. It was not a statement out of lust certainty but a statement of fact, like I am wearing shoes.
"Why not just come into the store and say hi. That is the normal way to meet people." Tom was now Tom Cat playing with a butterfly, which is how he thought of the voice.
"You were busy with people and I" hesitancy as the shadow selected the right words. "I am more a creature of shadows and most likely would not have been allowed close to you." There was an ironic laugh that bordered on tears.
Tom stood silent for a few seconds contemplating the comment. Was this man dangerous, sick, deranged, a vampire (he laughed at the last one). "Are you a vampire that you are a creature of the shadows?"
"I wish," The pause hung there. "It would make life so much easier."
The last statement, barely audible, pained Tom for some reason. "Being dead, even as one of the undead, has few rewards. Would you not miss the sunrise, bees nuzzling the necks of honeysuckle,"
"Where the bee sucks." came a soft reply.
"Then why shadows?" Educated, Tom realized.
"I am other and do not fit in, and so the light exposes me, and I cannot hide."
"We are all other" Tom waited for a response. None came. "How about we have coffee and a snack. There is a small place around the corner." Tom quickly added, "my treat?"
"I am not sure you would like to be seen with me."
"Then why did you stop me on the fiction of needing a light."
There was a sigh with a hint of tears behind it. "I don't know. It is just. I saw you through the window of the store, and you looked like someone I had a dream about when I was younger. And you were so beautiful in there. A flame amongst the other dull people. I was attracted. I do not want to live in the shadows." The sound of despair in the last comment were boulders grinding together. "It was foolish. I am sorry that I detained you. I am sure you have more important people to see." The shadow turned and started to move deeper into the shadows of the alley.
"Wait," Tom reached out and grabbed the shadows arm. "Wait, my offer still stands. I have my shadows too. Most people do. And I will decide whom I will be seen with."
"I am not sure. I don't think I should." There was hesitance couched with desire. To leave the shadows was exposure. No turning back.
"It is your choice. It is always your choice" Tom said softly. "At least let me see your face. I deserve more than a shadow. You owe me"
"Yeah, I guess so. I mean I did stop you. I guess I do owe you." The shadow stepped out into the light of the streetlamp that cast the shadow into the alleyway. The shadow was a young man. He had long blond hair that missed a few cuttings and a few washing. He was wearing a T-shirt so faded that the band name was lost under a dull gray hoodie. The hoodie had holes and needed a washing. The jeans a size too large, but that was probably because the kid had not eaten regularly or properly. The jeans had tears, not from fashion but because of wear. The hems were frayed because the they were too long. And the sneakers used duct tape as a design to hold the shoes together. This was a child of the street. However, the face was a child of the heavens: large eyes, full lips, high cheekbones, a firm chin. It was the eyes that really caught Tom's attention. They were soft robin egg blue and lost and scared and in need of love.
"You are not as frightful as I thought," smile Tom. "My offer still stands."
"But you see how I look. I cannot embarrass you by going into a restaurant looking like the last place I slept was in a dumpster."
"I suspect the last place you slept was a dumpster." Tom smiled. The kid started to protest and Tom took the kid firmly by the hand. "You will be with me, No one will say a word. If you want, we can say you are an actor fresh off a shoot."
"But they will know I am not."
"People will believe and see what they want. I would not be surprised if a few people do not ask for an autograph." The young man relaxed and smiled. "And you will be with me, in my tight designer jeans, silk shirt, expensive sneakers, and my gorgeous face." Tom struck a pose like a film noir hero looking into the sunset. The kid laughed. "By the way my name is Tom. Whom do I have the pleasure of dining with this evening?"
"I'm Chris." he held out his hand for Tom to shake. But Tom took his hand and lightly kissed the fingers.
Chris blushed. "Such gallantry is unexpected and undeserved."
"Gallantry should always be unexpected and is always deserved. Shall we go eat. I am famished. I have not had a break since 7 this morning." Tom smiled. It was spring, and Chris was its first flower.
Chris looked with concern at Tom. "That is not good. Even I have eaten since then." He smiled at Tom, not a full smile but more like a promise after a smile.
Tom felt wind swept like a character in a Victorian novel. It was too cliché, but still true. Who was this angel? "Not much," Tom said softly to himself. Since Tom was a firm believer in fate, the boy needed him.
The diner was one of those 24-hour places where every item on the menu should have had the words "with grease" added as the garnish. At 10:00 in the evening the crowd was thin. An older man at the counter, four teenage girls giggling in a far booth, two early twenty somethings in security uniforms flirting with the girls in the booth. Tom and Chris walked in; Tom was definitely overdressed while Chris was marginally under dressed. "Just take a seat, I'll be with ya in a sec," came a voice from the kitchen.
Tom handed Chris a menu from the rack on the booth. "Get whatever you want." Tom did a quick glance at the diner. The girls were quiet and staring. "It seems you have the attention of that gaggle of geese in the back booth," Tom motioned to Chris.
"I am sure they are just looking at you." This kid was in desperate need of some self-worth, Tom thought as he pulled napkins out of a 1950's dispenser.
He slid a couple of napkins in front of Chris, "No, they are more interested in you. You have the bad boy look that is very attractive." In the light of the diner Tom could actually see Chris, despite being under fed, dirty, and meek, he was a stunningly handsome young man. Maybe more androgynous, but not in a feminine way some of Tom's friends were. Chris had the delicate features of the fae he had seen in a fairy tale book his grandfather read to him when he was just a wee one. Tom smiled inwardly, I have here a fairy with attitude.
"So, guys, what you going ta hav," said the Ethel, who had suddenly appeared at the table, pad in hand and ready for business. If there was a cliche for greasy spoon diner, it was Ethel. Beehive hair with pencils sticking out like Japanese hairpins, polyester dress, with several stains, a short apron, and a personality like lemon curd.
"I'll have a cheeseburger with fries and an ice tea--sweet. And my friend will have."
Chris looked up from the menu, "Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and gravy, please," he smiled. Tom thought it was a nice smile. It was sincere and kind. It melted cold and jaded hearts.
"For you, hon anything, but not the meatloaf," she shook her head, "I recommend the country fried steak. And extra mashed potatoes. You need some meat on your bones."
"Then country fried steak and do you have okra?"
"Oh, a boy after my own heart, of course okra. Got cha'," and the Ethel turned and stomped away like an elephant with a purpose.
"For a shadow person, you know how to create light for others." Chris blushed a little. Tom smiled and casually asked, "Besides being gay and transgender, what made you homeless?" Chris got up to leave but Tom grabbed his arm. "You sit your skinny ass down and eat a decent meal. You do not need to tell me, but you are not going to run from who you are and me just because I know. It is who you are and accept that."
Chris sat back down with a thud of pain, embarrassment, defiance, loneliness all flickering across his face. "How did you know."
"Well, the gay thing is obvious because you tried to pick me up."
"Duh,"
"The transgender, I have a couple of transgender friends. And when you sat down, you wince a little in pain. That led me to assume you had some recent surgery."
"Yeah, had my tatas removed a few weeks ago. They are a little sore yet." Tom looked at Chris thinking of all the problems that come after surgery. Chris smiled, "I am doing better. The pain is less, just muscles healing, and no infection."
Tom shook his head. "You have been living on the street, after major surgery." Tom looked into Chris's face. It was the face of a man, but soft with no facial hair, like a fifteen-year-old boy. But the eyes had a fire and depth of someone much older. "You must want this pretty bad."
Chris's face changed from soft to harsh, "Need!, need, not want. It is what I must do to live." Chris paused, his defensiveness sliding away as Tom looked at him, patiently waiting. "Michelangelo claimed that each block of marble had a sculpture screaming to be released. I was a boy in the marble of a girl. I needed to be released."
"Hi hons," interrupted the Ethel as she put the food with loud efficiency in front of the two. She looked at Chris. "I gave you double portions. I ain't seen anyone as skinny as you, except when my brother got sick." Sadness and love flickered across her face. Chris softly said thanks. "You're welcome, hon, enjoy." Then she brushed some of Chris's hair from his face and abruptly turned and left.
Chris looked at the mound of food on the plate. He picked up his fork, looking at the food like it was a rare feast. He was unsure where to start, so many choices. It had been a long while. "This was awfully nice of her." Chris put a mouthful of potatoes and gravy on his fork and slid it into his mouth like it was Godiva chocolate: each bit had to be savored. "This is fucking good. She did not need to be so kind."
"There are people who want to be kind to you."
"Why?"
"Because you are adorable, in need, and they are good and kind-hearted people everywhere."
"I have yet to see them. Not even my parents." Chris's whole body tensed with anger and frustration, "Well maybe my sister."
"What about the doctor who is helping with the gender reassignment?"
"He gets to fuck my ass whenever he wants." Tom frowned. "He's got a wife and kids my age, a nice house in the burbs. So once a week I go to his office `for a follow-up exam' and he fucks me on the exam table." Chris paused, sliced another piece of meat, slowly chewing and swallowing. "He is using me to get his rocks off. But then I am using him to get what I need. I guess we bartered a deal to our mutual benefit." Chris looked up from his food into Tom's face expecting. He saw no look of reproach, disgust, or pity. Chris shifted his eyes to his food and the okra.
"Sometime we do what we need to survive. But that does not change my comments about some people being kind just because they are kind. Ethel does not need to be kind to you; she wants to be."
"Yeah maybe," Chris looked hard at Tom. "And what is your angle. Are you going to take me back to the alley and fuck me there--a meal for a fuck?"
"I haven't decided yet," Tom smiled slowly. "Besides, you picked me up, so what is your angle?"
Chris returned to his food and only giving Tom quick furtive glances, because he was not sure what his angle was except he had to meet this man. That this man was handsome was a given since he modeled for Macy's. Chris had seen his picture on some of the posters in the store window, but there was more than the looks. There was an aura about him that said hope. Slowly looking up from his food Chris smirked a smile, "My angle, haven't decided yet."
"Heh, pretty boys." Tom looked up from his meal. A younger security guard stood looming over the table. "Fags should not be allowed around normal people. You make my stomach turn."
Chris tried to shrink into a ball. His years on the street taught him hide or protect in these situations. Tom, stood up and faced the guard. Tom was about two inches taller than the man. "Hey man, this is not cool. I do not want my food to be poorly digested by your presence. You need to move into the new millennium. Us fags are here and you bigots are the ones turning stomachs." The guard glowed fingering his Billi club. Tom paused his face vermilion. His stance, unnoticed by the guard, ready to move quickly and violently. "Your friend seems to want you back at his table."
Just then one of the teenage girls interposed herself between the two men. "Hey this is so not cool. What the fuck are you thinking acting like a goddamn ass." The guard took a step back; she took a step forward. "You're a fucking dick head. Didn't your mamma teach you anything about manners." The guard took two steps back; she took two steps forward.
Ethel then came rushing over. She looked at Tom and the guard. "Is there a problem?" There was not a bone of kindness in the question.
Tom smiled and said, "I think the situation is under control."
Ethel then turned to the guard, "Henry Wrozynski, I will not have you disturbing my customers" She shook a pointed finger in his face. "You apologize" The guard bristled. She continued, "If you don't, you are barred from this place for ever, and I will tell your mamma."
The guard looked at the Ethel, then Tom and Chris. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. The Ethel shouted, "Louder so everyone in this fucking diner can hear you" Her glare would have made the faces on Mount Rushmore whimper. "I am very sorry that I disturbed your meal at this fine restaurant," he said looking at the Ethel and not Tom.
Tom put out his hand to shake. The guard looked down at Tom's hand and then at the Ethel. He shook Tom's hand. "Henry, would you like to join us for coffee and dessert?" Tom asked. The guard's jaw dropped; he stammered a little and looked at Ethel. He looked at his partner who was watching with amusement at Henry's distress. Ethel shoved Henry into the booth. She smiled a large smile, "I'll bring apple pie and coffee for the three." She hurried back into the kitchen. Tom looked at the young lady who had bullied down the guard. "That was very brave of you," Tom said.
"I don't like bullies," she said, "and I knew he would not hit a girl." Her voice was hesitant as she looked into Tom's eyes. "besides, my older brother is gay. You are gay, right? I don't want to assume." Tom nodded yes. "Well, anyway. I would not want him bullied without have some to help defend him."
"I thank you" Tom paused, "I don't know your name."
"Marisol."
"Thank you, Marisol."
Hesitantly Marisol asked, "Are you a model?"
"Yes," Tom replied somewhat embarrassed.
"We knew it, Lydia thought she recognized you. Could you come say hi to the rest of us."
"Of course, I would be glad to." Tom turned to Henry and Chris. "Would you please excuse me. I hope you boys will play nice." Tom turned and followed Marisol.
"He's really a model? No fucking way," Henry said.
"Yup," Chris replied, "Calvin Klein, Macy's, and others."
"So how do you know him?"
"I don't" Henry looked puzzled. "I just met him tonight." Chris paused slightly and smiled. "I picked him up hoping to fuck him or Vis versa."
Henry gulped in a sudden panic and saw the smirk on Chris's face and then looked at Tom chatting with a bunch of giggling girls. "I guess I can see that. He is very nice looking. Are you a model too?"
"No," replied Chris.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm totally into chicks, but you are really gorgeous, if I can say that, in a David Bowie sort of way."
Chris flushed, "Thanks, how does Ethel know you?"
Henry laughed, "Big city, small neighborhood. I live a few blocks from here, with my mother. I know lame, 22 and living with my mother. After my dad died and my sister moved to Detroit, I didn't want my mother alone."
"It is nice to be there for family."
"You got family?"
"Yes, but" Chris paused; he missed his parents and loved them but away with it. "We are estranged."
"How? If you don't mind saying."
"They kick me out when I was sixteen." The bitterness and pain reflected in the words.
"That's harsh. Drugs?"
"No gay" Chris said softly not wanting to tell the whole story.
"That fucking sucks man. That is way too cold. If I had a kid who was gay, I wouldn't be happy about it, but I wouldn't kick him to the street."
"I told them I was gay the two days before Christmas. There was a huge scene. Lots of yelling. Saying I was wrong and it was just a phase. Tears, more yelling and then I was told to leave. Then I was outside the door in just a T-shirt and jeans. My sister threw a pair a shoes, coat because it was very cold and my billfold out of her upstairs window and what she could cram into a backpack. I wanted to pound on the door and beg to come back inside." Chris paused, "but I knew they wanted me to change, but I couldn't." Tears started to fill Chris's eyes, but he would not cry because he made the right choice.
Henry had his hand over Chris's. Chris looked down and noticed it and then Henry noticed and quickly pulled his hand back. Chris smiled, "A few minutes ago you were ready to beat us bloody. Why the change?"
"I don't know." Henry's thoughts were jumbled; he really did not know. "I was in a pissed off mood already. I just broke up with my girlfriend."
"Rough man" commiserated Chris.
"I saw the two of you, both too gorgeous, both into each other, both comfortable with yourselves. I guess I was jealous. Not the guy thing but the comfortable thing. I thought I had that with Janice, but I guess not."
Tom slide into the booth next to Chris. "I see you have not killed each other." Chris poke Tom in the ribs. He winced,
Just then, Ethel came balancing three pies ala mode, forks, and coffee. "I see you are nicety-nice." She looked at Henry, "See how much better it is to talk than to fight." Then to everyone, "enjoy." She left with the satisfied walk of a mother who had just set her children straight.
"So, you are really a model, Tom?" asked Henry.
"Since sixtee, started with Calvin doing the underwear. Now, twenty and too old for him. He does like them young."
"Shit, you met Calvin Klein?"
"Nice guy, demanding, but then it is his name on the product."
"Do you like it?"
"Yeah, it is mostly good. Awkward posing for long periods, little privacy about showing your junk. All offset by travel and interesting people... Like you and Chris. So yeah, I like it."
"I want to sincerely apologize for earlier," Henry said. "I was a real ass. I am sorry that I ruined your evening and plans." He winked a Chris.
"I am sorry too that you were an ass," said Tom.
"Doesn't give a guy a break does he," Henry said to Chris,
"But," Tom continued, "I am very pleased how it ended. You are a good guy, Henry. And someone better than Janice is just around the corner (Henry did not know that was literally true)." Tom pulled a card and pen out of his pants pocket and wrote on it. "Here is my name and private number in case you need me someday,"
Henry stood, took the card, thinking it odd that he might need Tom, and put in his wallet. "Thanks" He looked at his watch. "Need to gather up Oscar the Grouch and head to work. Tom and Chris, it is a pleasure getting to know you, and I am glad of the slight altercation if only for that reason." Henry looked at the door and his partner was standing patiently waiting. "Gotta go." Henry looked at Chris and Tom. "You do make a cute couple. And Tom, Chris is worth more than a quick fuck." Henry waved as he left the diner.
Tom looked at Chris and said, "What was this about a quick fuck?"
"Nothing." grinned Chris.
"You picked me up for a quick fuck, Chris?" Tom looked hurt and angry.
"Yeah, I thought that is all you would want from me, sorry. I thought, entice you back into the alley and then wham, your dick up my ass. Maybe a thank you then gone. I might have read you wrong. I thought you ..." Chris's words faded into air. What was I thinking, why did he try to pick up Tom? Tom was too classy for an alley fuck. I was a fucking fool.
"Yeah, you sure did get me wrong, and you are a fucking fool. Now don't get me wrong, I have had my share of quickies: bathrooms, dressing rooms, elevators, backs of cars and," Tom smiled, "I can't tell you that place--high security, but never in an alley. So, I am not beyond a quick fuck. But as Henry said, you are worth more than that. I want to take you to my hotel and make love to you."
"Oh"
"Have you ever been made love too?"
Chris looked at Tom confused, He thought back to his encounters over the last years. When he was Chris female, she was a virgin. When he became Chris male, it was experimentation. And once on the streets, it was survival. "No." Chris seemed to be on the verge of tears, "Sorry, I stopped you earlier and thanks for the food." Chris stood to leave.
"Where the hell do you think you are going?"
Chris looked at Tom like he had no thought as to the answer. "I guess to find someplace to sleep." Chris looked out the diner's windows at the darkness and the cold; he could leave. He could. He could.
"You are not leaving. You are coming with me." Tom's face was stern and concerned and beautiful. "Ethel," Tom yelled.
"Hey boys, what can I get you?" Ethel said as she appeared at the table with a smarmy smile.
"Just the check,"
"This meal is on the house," she said. "I am sorry about Henry disturbing your dinner. I don't know what got into that boy. He's usually so polite. I will have a talk with Patrice, his mother. She'll set him straight."
"Please don't say anything to his mother." Chris asked, "We actually had a very nice conversation afterwards. I like him."
"If you say so."
Tom smiled at Ethel, "I think Henry has learned his lesson and will be more polite. Chris is right, the ending was very good."
"Yeah, you're probably right," Ethel smiled, "But the meal is still on the house?"
"I need to get this young man to bed." Ethel guffawed at Tom. "I meant he needs a good night's sleep." Tom was blushing, and the decided, "yeah and that's after the other thing."
Ethel beamed at the two boys, "You are right for each other. I have this `gift' I seem to know when people are right together. My man, I knew it the first day I saw him. And I didn't give him a chance to run from me; I snagged him so quick. After 36 years, don't doubt the snagging at all. Now Henry and that Janice. Don't like her."
"He and Janice broke up," responded Chris, "It was the reason he acted out."
"Thank god. Patrice will be happy. She never liked the bitch either," answered Ethel as she picked up the dishes from the pie. "I know of a nice girl, lives just around the corner that I might arrange an accidental meeting." She winked at the boys. Tom wanted to swear he saw cupids flutter around Ethel's head.
After Ethel left, Tom looked at Chris and saw innocence, hope, determination and pride. Here was a guy who should have been destroyed, but he was stronger and more beautify and nobler because of it. Tom smiled at Chris, "Let's go to my hotel. I'll just call Uber."
Chris smiled back. Tom made him feel happy and safe. Tom and Chris went and stood by the glass door of the diner, its sign flashing red and yellow on the street. Tom put his arm around Chris's hip and pulled him closer. The close moment vanished as Ethel yelled to them "Boys, just a sec." She came up to them caring a plastic bag with two Styrofoam containers. "Just a couple of pieces of pie, I thought you might need some extra energy." She grabbed Tom and Chris and pulled them into a firm hug. The Uber driver pulled up, and she released the boys. As Tom and Chris slide into the car Ethel yelled, "Come back when you can. And tell your friends." Tom waved back "We will" and slid into the back seat next to Chris.
Chris knew he should be nervous. He had never entered a vehicle of a stranger. He heard too many stories of the danger. But with Tom, for some reason, it felt right. And he always trusted his feelings. That one gorgeous man in the blue Mercedes, who waved a hundred, Chris ran from because of his blood red and black aura. Later he learned theman was into administering serious pain. No Tom was different. Tom was earth and water. He was growth and life. He was a deeper mystery. Chris felt safe when Tom put his hand on his knee.