Josephine the Transvestite

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Please read my short story Josephine the Transvestite.

Submitted: July 09, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 09, 2013



Josephine was a tranvestite. She never ment to be that way, but as the years went by her urge to wear womans clothes was over-powering. She would be ashamed and think of her father, who was now in heaven, looking down, from that vantage point, with disapointment. It is strange, these urges, how they build up and make it impossible to resist and suppress any longer; how they overflow into ones behaviour like a glass poured by a blind bartender. The shame, wasn't enough for her, to surmount the pain of her fighting her urges.

Josephine was an attractive transvestite. She had naturally round, feminine features, which, when make up was applied, brought out her continance with a suprising reality, and she looked a very good likeness of a real woman. Her hair was smooth, and flat, and her lips, underneath lipstick, were pouting and very full. She loved going out to pubs and clubs, and loved nothing more than dancing and, many different varieties of sweet, fruity, luxurious cocktails.

She longed to meet a man that wasn't predudiced about her choice. He would have to be kind and gentle, and generous and understanding. She had many hopes, aspirations, and pre-set ideas, about a man, which was mixed with mysticism and superstition. That is why she regularly contacted psychics and enquired of them a horoscope for each period, diveded by phases of the moon, and astrological events. She relied one these whole-heartedly and it was stedfastly stuck to that, horoscopes, rather than being some small humour, and falacy, were something to be accepted as an entire, within her innocent mind, and unquestioned truth. She regarded psychics as genuine word.

Josephine decided, on this bustling, racey Friday night, to go out and try to alleviate her sufferings of finding this gentle, kind gentleman mentioned in the text above. But first she would enquire on the psychic hotline:

She didn't have a strong jaw-line like most transvestites. It was round. She took the phone up, on her lap, and lay back on her soft couch and felt a resonant joy, and satisfied excitement as she listlessly dialed the psychic hotlines number. The voice was sing-song and appealed to her feminine playful competitive nature that Josephine had despite her true condition (maybe it was one of the reasons that she felt the need to change to female; this drive of feminine characteristics and predesposed femininity).

This sing-song voice of a young - maybe twenty eight, thirty - prophosised doom over the phone:

"Something evil will befall you. The stars say a character much opposed to you will cross your path tonight. He will be a bigot, and swaying to the side, of a heavy-set violent. Needing, nothing other in rewards than a victory in the realms of physical violence. You must go out on this night, for arising from the high bon-fire of this terrible calamity will come a protaginist of rare virtue. You will fall from gods grace, and favour, and then arise from the depths with a glorious - and, count yourself very lucky - rare, and, auspicious rise of grace and joy."

Josephine felt apprehensive about this. No thing in the world scared her more, than being acosted, and then misused for her choice of bing a cross dresser. She was a real amiable, friendly person whome, she thought, her humour and kind deeds - (which was undebatable: her numerous courageousness and gifts of countless kindness) made her a abosute necessity to have on the street. You would feel the loss if whe were to dissapear or move to a different town. She'd be a loss to her friends.

But, brave Josephine, mustered all of her courage and stepped bravely out that door of her terrace house. She wondered as she walked down that old lane. Will I be hit? Who is this protaginist? I cannot bear being hit.

She walked down the lane in her high heels. She brushed aside her alburn hair, and it glimmered underneath combined moon and street-light glow. Cars fightened her as they roared at her heels. She was very jumpy, very jumpy indeed. She wouldn't see much because the dark patches and the searingly bright batches that alternated between street-lamp-lit and non-street-lamp-lit, through her night vision out. It was like walking over a zebra's back.

She got to the local pub and there was a rough and tough, scary looking character there. He was a butch hetero-sexual. Josephine knew these types and feared them. The skin-head snickered:

"What have we here?" With threatening body movements.

"A lady!" Josephine said.

"Your not a lady. Your a fairy!"

"I'm a lady."

"No. Take that back or i'll hit you in the mouth."

It was now or never for Josephine. All the pain about her father being disapointed in her and all the anguish of finally 'coming out' and to proove her courage as a woman against violence.

"I AM A WOMAN," she said.

"That's it, you getting it," and the contaginist stuck her a blow. Josephine held her mouth to only catch the blood in the cup of her hand. It hurt like nothing Josephine had ever felt before. The red, throbbing blood pulsed through her ears. The street-lamps and moon went unnoticed as her consiousness was a blur of happenings; her pain, her fear. She went to a nearby ally and sat, hugging her knees.

"Oh, you poor thing, you sweetheart." The man bending over her was handsome and had curly brown hair that was just a little bit to long. "I was driving past and I saw that man hit you. I stopped and then looked and looked for you, but couldn't find you, until I found you here."

He reached out and saying he was a dentist lifted her top lip.

"You've broken your tooth in half," the man, with the little-to-long brown curly hair said, "I'll have to take you to my dentists surgery and put a cap on it.

** ***

Dentist Rodney and Josephine got close in the dentists office, and became an item, girlfriend - boyfriend. They got married and lived happily ever after. But they weren't to know that yet. Dentist Rodney was fixing Josephines tooth:

"You really are quite beautiful you know."

"Don't you not like me because I am a transvestite; a man pretending to be a woman."

"No, I like you. Your sexy. To tell you the truth I have always found transsexuals sexy."

Josephine was deleriously elated. She had found that young man she longed for for so many trials and tribulations.

She really was lucky like the psychic said.


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