Chrysalis Part 2-Chapter 35
This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets challenges, his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
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 or move.
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Chapter 35--Runway Hit
The Friday after the return from Chicago was a big day for Chris; his estrogen therapy would start tapering off over the next three weeks until they are at pretreatment levels. Then he would start testosterone therapy a month later. The detectives said they had a suspect for the package but did not have enough evidence for an arrest. Chet, who was involved with the FBI, was still investigating Derick Gordon and by extension Toby. Weekly, Chris received threatening emails, but they came from various locations and IP addresses. Beach, in his duties as butler and Internet firewall, forwarded most of the emails to the detectives without Chris needing to read them.
Life was the usual frantic normal. Natalie Wong, from Raising Star, met with Cynthia, Adam, and Chris at Dreamweavers-East (The name change was official from Silent Models) to discuss Chris doing work in a music video and a screen test for movie work. This meant that he would need to be in L.A. the beginning of July for several days. Helga would arrange for Tom to be there at the same time because Dreamweavers was exploring opening a branch there in partnership with Rising Star.
Since Chicago was so successful, Slackers, Tuxed-In, and Leo's Tramp Wear, a gender edgy new fashion house, were sharing the models from Dreamweavers-East at the first Men's Fashion Week in New York.
Chris was nervous about the show because it was his first time as a runway model at a major show. With photography, there were always retakes, but the runway was live. Mistakes would show, and the fashion houses had reputations riding on the models. Tom, to ease Chris's near panic, compiled a video of epic runway disasters that included Tyra Banks, Kate Moss, Naomi Campbell, and Tom Greenwood. It made for one evening of fun, which reduced Chris's anxiety.
The days were filled with fittings and practicing the catwalk saunter, not to smile, and developing attitude. As the event drew closer, Chris understood how much work goes into a show: lighting, music, special effects, makeup and hair, and publicity. This show was the testing ground for Chris participating in the big shows in September in New York and later in Europe. This added to Chris's tension, which no one else felt, about his debut.
The show was small, only twelve models, seven females and five males, each wearing one design in five categories by each fashion house. The show's title, "Electro Tramp ", emphasized that the designs were not main street but fashion forward. Each piece was to integrate new fabrics with technology. Although the basic design was the traditional shirt, pants, and jackets, they bent gender concepts and standard forms with skirts and dresses.
That Friday morning Chris awoke with the nervous shits, which amused Tom, who had now formally moved in with Chris. Most of Tom's clothes were already in the closet so it was the more personal items: pictures, knickknacks, and sex toys. Chad and Boyd moved into Tom's since Lizette abandoned the idea of Boyd marrying her. The whole situation was ending well for everyone.
By 9:00 Chris had calmed and was at the warehouse where the show would be held. Behind the curtains that served as dressing rooms, everything was chaos. Miriam flew in from Chicago to organize the wardrobe, adjust last minute fittings, and approve hair and makeup. Her presence eased Chris's anxiety; she was in control and would allow nothing wrong to happen. Originally Cynthia from Dreamweavers anticipated maybe fifty people because it was a Friday afternoon. But the RSVPs stood at over 250. It was thought that since this was a charity event like Chicago, more people were interested. Cordelia, Ted and Irene, and Leo and his partner Ray were hyped and micromanaging until Miriam told them to work the crowd. Miriam, after looking at the wardrobe and the assigned models, redid most of it. Nobody dared to challenge her. Chris was moved from the middle of each segment to the last.
Chris was following Leandra, who wore a deep brown leather skirt, braided on the diagonal, a pale-yellow blouse with a built-in purse on the side, knee high laced stilettos, and a wide brimmed leather hat with a solar panel in the top to control a small fan under the crown. Leandra owned the runway, which the audience appreciated with wild applause. Chris winked at her as they passed. He strutted out like a tiger in a cage ready to pounce, wearing a variation of the braided leather pants from Chicago, the braids were narrower like corduroy, and instead of a fly it had a cod's piece, which was a relief since the pants were so tight. The seam in back did a lift and separate of his derriere. He wore a bright red shirt under a black leather biker jacket with silver mesh lapels and a matching belt. The ensemble was finished with a biker hat with matching silver mesh band. Chris was the epitome bad boy softened by the single red rose he plucked from a bouquet on his way to the runway. At the end of the catwalk, Chris removed the jacket with a flourish; his shirt went from red to yellows and blues. Thermochromic fabric the MC said, "Changes with body heat. No mixed signals on a date." Chris stopped to kneel before a plumpish girl of about 14 and handed her the rose; she almost fainted.
"Chris, baby, you rocked it out there," Leandra said as she hugged Chris. "Half the men creamed their pants, and all the women have wet spots, including me. And I don't dig dicks." She laughed and Chris blushed, but replied, "Only half the men?" Tom, Cynthia, and Boyd asked how Chris felt after his first catwalk. He grabbed a bottle of water and said he needed to pee.
Chris whistled at Boyd in his sleeveless denim tuxedo. It was definitely an oxymoron of redneck denim and high fashion. But the exquisite fit, the pure indigo, and the attention to detail worked. The white shirt was long-sleeved, tight fitting, cotton. It was a T-shirt with a collar and French Cuffs. The oversized red bow tie completed the look. The reception was mixed; the divide was by age.
Leandra finished her walk in a stunning burnt orange silk tuxedo jacket with matching slacks.
Leo Pickler, the designer behind Leo's Trash Wear, was barely 23 and a frantic dynamo as he made last minute checks of each very unique garment. It was his first showing. He was a friend of Jordan Singer from Tuxed In and begged a chance to show his work. Although his designs were far from mainstream, there was an edge that made you look and envy those with the courage to deviate from normal. His fabrics were eco-friendly, his colors bold and geometric, and the cut was for comfort and functionality regardless of societal norms. Chris liked Leo and his partner Ray. Ray was originally from Gary so Chris and him talked trash about the Midwest as Leo tugged, pulled, and repositioned Chris's ensemble. It was the form that looked like a classic black tuxedo, except the jacket was white with a holographic thread carefully interwoven to form images and patterns as he moved. Flowers and vines waved along the hem, birds and butterflies danced above the flowers and clouds moved in a sunless sky. Chris would do a slow walk, letting the jacket do the selling. It was a technological marvel and a work of art. Blue and green extension was added to Chris's hair, which draped over his left shoulder to match a thin band of blue and green piping on the white jacket. The band wove around the back side across the rear of his pants to continue in one flow that separated at the legs to end at the high-top basketball shoes, one blue, one green, with high wedge heels. Under the jacket was a white shirt with the same blue and green banding matching the jacket exactly.
As Chris stepped on to the catwalk the MC noted that the fabric was bamboo and stain resistant. At the end of the catwalk, an object slammed into Chris's right shoulder almost knocking him over, but...years of ballet kicked in: pirouette (spinning to control the force), sauter (leaping to get out of the line of another object). plier (bending to check for damage--red paint). He grabbed the water bottle of a stunned woman sitting in the front row. Eleve (rising--he gracefully poured the water over the paint, which washed to the floor. He removed the jacket with the grace for Fred Astaire, swung it over his shoulder and glissered off the runway, with a final wink at the audience. The audience was standing with applause.
When Chris was out of range of the audience, he rounded on Ray, who managed the business side of the firm. "What the fuck were you thinking shooting me with a paintball without warning me first."
"Honest Chris, we did not plan that. It was not us." Ray grabbed Chris by the shoulders. "I wish we had because you were brilliant."
"Are you okay, babe?" Tom pushed his way in between Chris and Ray. Leo shoved his way in almost pushing Tom aside, but Tom was larger and did not move. "You okay Chris? Are you hurt? Why would someone do this? This is terrible? Do you need a doctor, an ambulance? We need to check for injuries." Leo firmly grabbed Chris's upper arm and led him to a chair and unbuttoned the shirt. "Ray get an ice pack." Leo commanded. "Chris, I don't see any blood, but you have on hell've a bruise. You need x-rays to see if anything is broken."
"Thanks Leo." Chris smiled weakly at Leo and then Tom. "I need to center myself first and then we can decide what I need. But I don't think anything is broken." Both Miriam and Cynthia were at his elbow fussing. Cynthia had called an ambulance. Chris rolled his eyes.
"Chris Wentworth." A tenor voice broke the hubbub. "Is there a Chris Wentworth here?" The voice was directed toward Chris. The voice was attached to a young man of about 17 or 18. "I have flowers for you." The man said as he handed Chris two black roses. "I am sorry for your loss." He turned and left.
Chris was confused but opened the card. "Today was practice. Next real. Return what is mine." Chris blanched and dropped the flowers and card.
Cynthia picked up the card with the flowers from the floor. She trembled as she handed it to Tom. "Is this a death threat?" She whispered. The ambulance arrived and whisked Chris away.
Three hours later with pain pills and an ice pack, Chris was in his living room with Tom, Miriam, Cynthia, Chet, and Detectives Pikering and Kazarian. Surveillance cameras picked up a tall male, likely dark-skinned walking briskly away from the warehouse. He was only suspicious because he had on a hoodie with the hood obscuring his features the outside temperature was 84. The backpack was standard Walmart brand and could hide a pellet gun. Tom commented that the walk looked like Toby's cocky strut.
Detective Kazarian lamented that there was little to go on, but that the threat was real. He suggested a concealed weapon, which Chris vehemently refused and a Kevlar vest. Chris was uncertain about the vest until Cynthia suggested a Kevlar T-shirt. Miriam went further toward designing shirts and jackets for Chris. Cynthia met Miriam's eyes--new fashion trend.
Everybody left by 9:30 PM except for Chet, who stayed to talk security. "Chris," Chet sat back in his chair, finishing off an errant eggroll from the Thai food Chris had ordered for everyone. "This information is for you and Tom only. As you know I have been working with the FBI on the Derick Gordon drug ring. Toby Jackson is up to his eyeballs involved in managing shipments and enforcement. He is one crazy mean dude. We have been tailing him for weeks. He was at the warehouse today during the time of the shooting." Tom glared at Chet ready to rip him apart for withholding that information. Chet put a gentle but firm lock on Tom's arm. "I did not mention anything because the federal grand jury will meet on Monday. By Wednesday Toby Jackson will be in custody. The prosecuting attorney will request no bail because he is a flight risk."
"Thanks for telling us." Tom turned to Chris and gave the man a hug. "I don't know what I ever saw in him."
"One big cock." Chris replied with a grin.
"Big cocks are overrated." Chet added "I find Hector's sixer just fine for me. If I want more there are always dildos." From there the conversation turned raunchy. Chet left at midnight after a call from Hector, who was not too happy being home alone on a Friday night. Chris and Tom did not mind being home alone. This would be the first weekend that Tom and Chris had officially been a couple. Wine, the fireplace, soft music and the sofa were sufficient.
End of Part 2
Part 3--Chrysalis