And Placed upon the Counter

The next morning, you once again found yourself behind the counter of Skeg’s shop while the man himself was busy with your step-sister. You were getting used to the role by now though, and quite enjoyed having a bit of time to yourself. There was always something to clean, or restock, or just work out what was and how to operate it. The manly world of manual labour and power tools had always been a long way from you, both physically and, well… spiritually. Yet reading through mouldy old manuals and then seeing how they corresponded with the dirty, dusty, rusting machines they belonged to… was actually quite fun.

The customers were nice too. They tended to look very surprised to see a little, blonde-pigtailed teenage ‘girl’ working here alone, but that seemed to open them up to want to talk to you. It made you feel a little strange to chat to these often twenty-something year old tradesmen, just getting started in one apprenticeship or another and unable to afford anything better than the weathered, old tat that Skeg had available. Each one seemed so much more full of genuine, positive energy and ambition than the ‘Daddy’s going to put me up in his business’ boys that you’d grown up with. It made you gulp to catch them surreptitiously casting glances up and down your legs, or at your ass when you reached up to grab something. More than one had actually asked for your number! You’d had to blushingly make excuses and try to steer the conversation away. Did you really look like such a convincingly pretty girl that even non-perverts were lured in?

Glancing up from what you were currently trying to brush all the sawdust out of, you smiled to see Nancy waltzing through the door. She had popped in several times since that first visit in fact, both while the shop was open and in the evenings. Just to say hello to you and Jenny and ‘keep tabs on her stepfather’. You got the feeling there was something she didn’t trust about him and his deal with you… though she didn’t seem particularly fussed about seeing him balls deep in Jenny, or buried down your throat. Just what she thought he might do worse than that itched against your mind.

This time, though. It was you she was looking at in a curiously suspicious manner. Walking toward you slowly, as if measuring how you looked from every pace. A terrible idea started to enter your mind… even before she slid a local city paper across the counter, folded open at a particular article and set of black-and-white pictures that were distinctly familiar.

“That’s you… isn’t it?” She asked, eyes digging in beneath the carefully arranged hair and layers of makeup Jenny had applied to you today.

Even if you’d tried to deny it… the look on your face and horrified step back you took would surely have given the game away. How could you have been so stupid! You couldn’t possibly pass off as a girl. Of course your step-father would have put out pictures of you… though he’d try to keep it a secret from his own social circles. You were just an ugly, little crossdressing runaway who was going to be sent back and then sent away to some Swiss boarding school ‘to make contacts’. While Jenny was married off to a coke-snorting junior CEO of an up-and-coming Wall-Street firm as the sweetener on a business merger. All the terrible things that definitely didn’t happen to those born in the lap of luxury at the centre of the free world.

Nancy leant forward over the counter, pressing her elbows down upon it. You couldn’t help but notice the way this pushed out and displayed her magnificent cleavage… but were far more scared of that piercing gaze: Cutting right through to the back of your skull and pinning you back until your ass hit the wall.

“Lift up your skirt…” She commanded, as if requiring you provide evidence for your own execution.