|The Story||The Authors|
Looking the women up and down, he felt a brief, vertiginous gurgling in the pit of his stomach. Something was not -- quite -- right. Not quite right about them. Girls didn't -- he knew girls. He'd grown up with a whole bevy of sisters, Doc Smack had; and he'd never been one to beat around the bush (well, it depended on the bush, he chuckled to himself) with the ladies, and -- well, these two didn't -- just didn't -- move right. He remembered seeing a vaudeville minstrel in black-face, during his university days; the man was supposed to be a negro. But Smack knew negroes; his father (a doctor like his father before him and all the males of the Smack line except for that faggot Daryl, who'd turned out to be a goddamn swish can you believe it my own cousin?) had cared for a great many of them; and this man on stage didn't act like a negro at all. Young Smack had had to restrain himself; he wanted to walk up on stage and correct just about everything the man was doing.|
Just so with these "nurses" -- it was like they had studied, and only just, some ill-written handbook on How to Impersonate a Woman. He regarded them more closely as they fiddled behind the front desk, and he knew he was onto something by the way they fidgetted and moiled under the extra attention. "Hey, missy," he called to one of them, "you got something stuck to the hem of your dress."
"It'sssss mmmmmy tail-- ulp," she said, as her companion clapped a hand over her mouth. They looked at him and seemed to grasp the futility of their masquerade. They commenced to hiss.
"I knew it," thought Doc Smack. "Just like Kansas."
|The blonde laughed in embarrassment. "I knew I should have chosen another costume… we’ve all got our costumes on underneath our uniforms and this tail is driving me nuts!" "Chad, honey, would you mind helping this gentleman, Cindy and I just got a call light on 4East and I’m not sure how long we’ll be." "Sure sweetheart, Geoff and I will see you both in the staff lounge at 21:00! Take care." "Yes, sir what can we do for you?" intoned Chad. His wholesome good looks were almost intimidating. Geoff moved to answer a call, the telephone console was beeping with a chirping sound. It was all so very normal except for the harmless dust and the fake bats in the fluorescent light fixtures. Nothing unusual at all.|
|Or so it would seem. Dr. Smack still could not shake the feeling that something was not right about those women. And now that he thought of it, those two men didn't seem quite right either. Dr. Smack knew men as well as he knew women and though he couldn't pinpoint it, something about them was not right. He decided to ignore it. "Erm," the doctor said, clearing his throat. "I'm looking for Tiki Dinette." The two not-quite-right men looked at him quizzically. "I left her here about an hour ago, she was with two other women, one of whom threw me into a large material vortex after the other one chewed on my legs with her vaginal teeth." Smack continued and only after the words came out of his mouth did he realize how insane he sounded. Chad and Geoff just stared at the Doctor as if he'd just grown a horn out of his forehead. Dr. Smack could feel a migraine coming on and he put his hands up to his forehead and felt a large, rough, pointy horn protruding from it.|
|Good God. The Change Was Happening Again. Memories Of How Hard It Was To Explain To His Wife Last Time Came Flooding Back, Making His Already Tango-Like Headache Throb Just A Little More. There Had Been The Draining Late Night Squabbles, The Arguments, The Thrown Plates. "My Mother Told Me I Shouldn't Marry You.. I Should Have Married That Nice Proctologist Instead. He May Be Creepy, But He Doesn't Suddenly Sprout Horns Out Of His Forehead!"|
|He had the necessary Denial down to a fault, and could always be counted on to forget about these "little transformations," not to mention misleading everyone around him about the true nature he carried within him like a tick, tick, ticking time-bomb, until the very last minute, when the hidden truth of his life washed over him like one bodywide, shameful blush, as it always had, ever since he was a child, whose vantage, if truth be known, still lorded over his more mature side when this happened, for had he had time he would have thrown that bratty child's tantrum, stomping and kicking and shrieking and wailing -- but alas! when the Change happened it allowed no time for second-thoughts or dilly-dallying. He looked up and already he was the Other.|