Heist Honey

Mark nervously eyed the double door entryway, causing another miscount, forcing him to start over as he counted back the elderly man’s deposit. Mark had worked at the Loomas bank for six years now, it was a decent job with a good paycheck that allowed him to keep an apartment without needing the help of roommates like most men had to when he first got his apartment at twenty-six. Now in those six years he had to recount money a total of three times, something he prided himself on that few other tellers cared about. Each of the three times, like this most current one, was due to his coworker Sam. Sam was almost ten years his junior and worked as a teller for two years but he was always ordering him around despite his lack of seniority over him. Mark knew the type from his younger days, he was no doubt a bully in highschool who got used to the fact he could intimidate others into doing his work for him. Mark wished he could say he didn’t allow Sam to intimidate him but he had never done well with confrontation. It was easier to just leave or knuckle under and do whatever they demanded.

Which was how he came to be in this situation today. Unlike Mark, Sam did not feel he was being paid enough, he thought he deserved a much more extravagant lifestyle than his job could afford him. So he devised a plan that Mark had to be a part of or it wouldn’t work. Shortly after four o’clock two men in full masks walked in holding a gun, “Alright everybody hands up! You all know what this is!” the scrambled voices yelled as he pointed to the three other tellers and half dozen other customers. “First things first, everyone move to the center of the lobby so my friend can keep an eye on you!” Once everyone had been moved in the center the second man in a clown mask closed the distance on the people,

“I’ve got two nice bags here for all your finery, cash, wallets, and cellphones. Phones go in the right bag, everything else in the left.” The clown’s voice was high and shrill to the point that it was painful to listen too, “If you’re good you’ll get your phones back at the end of class.” The shrill voiced man laughed as they emptied their pockets and purses.

“You.” The second man, wearing a hockey mask over his ski mask pointed his revolver at Mark and pulled him violently towards him, “You’re gonna empty out these registers and no funny business or I’ll have to fill you full of lead!” He shouted,his deep voice growling as he shoved a duffle bag into Mark’s hands.

Mark raised his hands and walked the hockey masked man behind the counter. Sam had assured him that the gun needed to be a real .38 but that he would make sure the chamber was empty before so there was no chance of accidental discharge. Mark reacted exactly as he was trained to do by the bank manager, like Sam knew he would. “Fill it up,” he shouted, shoving Mark into the counter, “before I fill you full of lead.” Mark carefully, and as calmly as possible, emptied the money into the bag from one register then another while the clown masked man collected everything else of value. When all the money was collected the hockey man snatched the bag up. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” His laugh was strangely monstrous through the voice scrambler he wore, “No one’s got hurt so far, so keep being smart and you’ll live to tell this story at dinner parties for the rest of your long lives.” The masked man slowly backed up to the door while the clown man watched the front door for cops. Seeing the coast clear he tapped the hockey mask and they ran out for the stolen car they left running in the parking lot. All had gone according to plan, the silent alarm had been tripped by Mark once the robber took the bag away, but their timing had been absolute. Mark watched as the clown chucked the bag of phones out of the driver side window over the car and the sedan sped out of view just as he heard the sounds of police sirens approaching.

Later the police arrived and asked the witnesses all the same questions, “How tall was the perpetrator?”

“He was short.” One woman said. “Kinda thin.” Another man said, adjusting his glasses, “All I saw was the gun.” A female teller cried.

“He was shorter than me.” Mark informed the officer questioning him. “Maybe five–two? I’m not great with guessing height, I’m sorry.” Mark stood at five foot ten easily so the fact that the five foot five Sam had bullied him for years to this point only added to his shame. “With the weird voice…it could’ve been a woman honestly.” he lied.

“Any distinguishing marks you can remember?”

“All I saw was the gun really.” Sam definitely had what would be called a distinguishing mark that his ski mask couldn’t hide, which is why he wore the hockey mask over top, Sam had central heterochromia. Which meant the center of his eye was almost a golden brown before it expanded into a deeper blue. Sam had told him many stories about how he could seduce a woman with just his eyes and no amount of asking him to stop would stop Sam from detailing the accounts of his seduction techniques in the break room.

Hours after the incident Mark walked into his apartment and saw Sam with a wide smile on his face and a beer in hand. “We did it!” He cheered and pulled the older man into a side hug before offering him a beer. “You were perfect! You should’ve been an actor man, you looked like you were gonna shit yourself.” He laughed.

“Yeah…” he wouldn’t tell him that he had thought for a second Sam would betray him and shoot him anyway just to clean up loose ends.

“Come on, help me count up our score.” Sam kept using words like “our” and “We” when none of this was his plan and didn’t want to do it in the first place. But hearing about how he had dealt with snitches in the past had scared him into complacency. Sam unzipped the duffle bag with a smile. The main step which Sam had told Mark to purposefully forget, was to add a dye pack that at best would stain the money, and at worst would stain Sam. Sam scratched at his goatee as he sat out six stacks of cash, not even half of the contents of the bag.

“Where’s your friend?”

“He’s selling the credit cards and identities, he’ll be back tomorrow with your cut of that, don’t worry.” “His cut” wasn’t Mark’s concern. He didn’t want these two crazy men in his home any longer than they had agreed. Sam swore that he was getting out of town before they figured out that he was involved.

There had been one other attempt on Loomas bank before since Mark had started working there, he didn’t want to praise Sam’s criminal ways but it was not as smooth of an operation as this one had been. The first one was a singular armed robber with a grocery bag, he hadn't even considered a mask or the fact there were dye packs. The police caught him a day later trying to buy beer with the painted money. He had to admit at least they were much smarter about the robbery than he had

[been.

By

](http://been.By) the end of the night they had counted nearly fifty thousand in cash after Sam had laundered it plus the ten to fifteen grand from the cards and identities they would get. Sam was ecstatic and pretty insistent that Mark should feel the same way. “Come on man, you can’t act like this wasn’t fun?”

“Regina was crying. She’ll probably have nightmares for the rest of her life.”

“She’ll get over it.” Sam said, chugging down his beer. “We didn’t hurt anyone. A little therapy and she’ll be fine.” Mark frowned as he picked at the beer label, “If you feel so bad about it you can pay for her therapy. What’s done is done, we got out clean. Come tomorrow we’ll split town.”

‘Good riddance.’ Mark thought,sipping his beer.

The next morning, Mark awoke early to a phone call from a number he didn’t recognize. “Mr. Pasani?”

“Yeah?” Mark coughed sitting up in bed, wiping the sleepiness from his eyes.

“This is Detective Murtry. Would you mind coming to the station to answer some questions?”

“Uh…sure? What time?”

“Immediately.” Mark swallowed hard as he stood in panic. They knew! He couldn’t figure out how but they knew! Sam was certainly careful and never discussed anything in text or over the phone or at work where there were cameras everywhere. But somehow they knew he was involved!

Mark hurried passed Sam who was currently passed out on his couch, the stolen money still sitting on his coffee table. If he turned him in right now, maybe they would go easy on him…he would lose his job for sure but if he had a good enough lawyer maybe he wouldn’t have to go to prison. Sam knew where he lived…he’d have to move…with what little he had in savings he couldn’t afford to start over somewhere else. Sam or his unknown partner would find him eventually, not to mention whoever else he was working with that Mark didn’t even know about. Mark decided the risk outweighed the reward and took his keys off of the hook by the door and left.

When Mark arrived at the police station he saw his boss Mr.Neely standing with the detective who had questioned him the other day. “Is everything okay?”

“I Just have a couple of questions then you can go.” Detective Murty led Mark into a small room that looked like an office and not the cliche interrogation room he had seen on television. “You’ve worked for Loomas bank for how long?”

“Six…going on seven years now?”

“Your boss says you have an impressive memory, is that true?”

“Uh…I wouldn’t call it impressive. It’s not like eidetic or anything.”

“Still,” He groaned as he sat one hip on the corner of his desk, “your boss says your memory for people and faces is incredible. You remember all the customers who visit you after one visit, all the employees who’ve come and gone over the years. Would you agree?”

“I…suppose so.”

“See, impressive. I forget my wife’s birthday all the time and she gets pissed. You got a wife?”

“No sir.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Not for a couple years now.”

“Family?”

“Just my mother…but we haven’t talked in sixteen years.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Sorry, I’m rambling.” Murtry pecked at a few keys on the keyboard, the screen turned on and began playing the footage of the robbery. “These are the best angles we could get of the men who robbed your bank.” Mark felt his heart pounding in his throat. “Unfortunately they were pretty smart, they wore gloves, they ditched the phones so no GPS tracking to another location,” the video switched to an outside shot showing the bag being thrown from the car. Murty sucked air through his teeth, “Stolen car too, we contacted the owner and we’re on the lookout for it but chances are they torched it somewhere safe so they’ll be on the run again before we can find it.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, an operation like this going this smooth? It’s something you learn from experience. Inexperienced robbers always panic or get rough with the people, but anyway, their pattern also matched the pattern of three other robberies done across the country in the last ten years.”

“...oh my god.” Mark knew Sam was a thug and a bully but he was obviously so much more than that, he was a full on criminal.

“Yeah, so far no one’s been hurt in any of these robberies but who knows how long that’ll last.”

“W-what’s this got to do with me? Are we in danger?!”

Murtry clicked the keyboard agan and the screen changed to a view over the entrance of the bank. The man in the hockey mask pulled his masks off and smiled as he held a handful of money in the passenger seat. The color cameras were almost good enough to make out Sam’s two tone eyes but enough to make out his auburn hair and general face. “You recognize this man?”

“...yeah. That, that’s Sam. He works at the till beside me.”

“Safe to say, not anymore. Did he tell you anything?”

“Like what?”

“Did he tell you anything about his past that might be of use? Where he used to live, restaurants, old friends in town?” Mark thought for a moment, “Your boss says he saw Sam talking to you several times.”

“I talk to everyone…except Sam really. I never liked him…I kinda thought he was a prick but I didn’t think he was a criminal.”

Murtry sighed as he stood up, “I suppose none of us really know who we’re working beside.”

“I-is that all?”

“For now, we’ll contact you if we have any more questions.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t be of more help.”

“It’s fine. If you think of anything or he contacts you, definitely call me.”

“Yes sir.” The two men shook hands and walked out of the office. Murtry turned off and spoke to a uniformed police officer while Mark stopped in front of his boss.

“I can’t believe Sam was involved, can you?!” Mark asked.

“No, no, I can’t.” Neely let out an exasperated sigh, “Mark, it pains me to do this but…I have to let you go.”

“Let me-You’re firing me?! Why?!”

“You know bank policy, anyone who is under suspicion of or connected to a robbery in any way can’t work at the bank.”

“But I’m not connected! He probably talked to everyone over the years, are you gonna fire them too?!”

“Actually, he didn’t. You were the only one he talked to.”

“John….I had nothing to do with this, I swear!”

“I believe you…I really do. But if I don’t…I’ll lose my job too. And I’ve got kids and alimony. If I lose my job over conspiracy to commit robbery…I’ll never see them again.”

“This isn’t right!”

“I know…I’m sorry. You still have insurance for the next month and we can mail you your check and hopefully that’ll hold you over until you can find another job.”

“I can’t ever work at a bank again, you realize that?”

“I know, but there are lots of jobs out there.”

“Thanks a lot John.”

Mark stormed into his apartment, slamming his door and startling the still sleeping Sam. “What the hell, man! Respect the hangover!”

“I got fired.”

“Oh…that sucks.”

“That sucks? That’s all?”

“Yeah man, it sucks. You’ll get another job, and you’ll still get your cut. I’ll even throw in a couple thou to compensate.”

“Money isn’t the issue. They think I was involved or I know something!”

“Who?” Sam’s face solidified into seriousness.

“Neely, the cops…probably everyone at the bank now.”

“What’d you tell the cops?”

“Nothing.”

“Why would they even question you?” Sam stood, taking careful steps closer towards Mark.

“Because you were caught on camera with your mask off!”

“No, no, I never took my mask off inside the bank.”

“They caught you outside! In the stolen car!” The memory hit Sam like a flash, he fucked up! He couldn’t breathe through both masks.

“No…fuck…no!” Sam quickly picked up the burner cell from the coffee table, he had to call Jared, they’d have to meet up at the safehouse today rather than later. They needed to lay low. “Hey man, it’s me. We need to meet. Now.”

Eighty minutes later the two men met at an empty warehouse by the pier. “Were you followed?” An older man with graying black hair stood alone by the entrance of the warehouse.

“No, I made sure to switch up cars randomly to make sure no one could track me.”

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not the one who fucked up.”

“You heard about that?”

“It’s all over the wire, man.” Jared fingered the gun in his pocket. “We’ve been doing this for years, how could you make such a rookie mistake?”

“I told you I couldn’t breathe in that damn mask.” Sam ran his hand through his hair, “You burned the car and the gun, right?”

“I did my job.”

“Yeah, look we knew this might happen eventually so you know what to do.”

“I know. I had to put a rush on our identities once I heard.” He gripped the revolver. He and Sam had been partners for years, he was bright and a slick talker but could he hold up under interrogation if he got caught?

“You got my new identity, right?”

“You got my cut of the cash?”

“In the trunk. Minus Mark’s cut, but you can take that out of what you got for the wallets.”

“You don’t want your cut from that?”

“No…consider it an apology for fucking up a good thing.”

Jared thought for a moment, one hand on his gun, the other on a folded up manilla envelope as Sam took out a suitcase full of cash. He knew what he should do, this wasn’t the first partner he had to put down for screwing up…but he was by far the most honorable. Whenever the others screwed up they made excuses or tried to blame him or someone else, worse they’d try and keep his share of the money. When they first met he was a scrawny kid living on the street, stealing the rims off his ride, he took pity on him and taught him how to survive and eventually he saw the kid had some talent and was more than a little proud at how well he followed orders when on the job. Jared threw the envelope to Sam. “Good luck with your new life kid.”

“You too. Old man.” The men shared a smile for a moment before turning around and walking away. Jared watched as his protege drove away, hoping he never had to see him again.

Sam returned to Mark’s apartment and sat on the couch when Mark suddenly stopped mid stride, “How’d you get in here?”

“Please.” Sam rolled his eyes as he cut the envelope open. Picking a lock was one of the first things Jared had taught him. Of course he wasn’t going by Jared then, and he wasn’t Sam. Sam sat aside the larger of the forged documents, checking for an ID. He would’ve loved a passport but the airport was too risky, he’d have to wait before he could get out of the country. Flipping over his drivers license he read his new name. “Chloe?!”

“Who?”

“God damn it!” Sam picked up the burner phone and dialed Jared’s number again, immediately getting a message that his phone was no longer in service. “Son of a bitch!” He threw the phone embedding it in the wall.

“Hey, I have to pay for that.”

“Fuck off! I’m screwed!”

“How?!”

“Look at this shit!” Sam shoved the birth certificate into Mark’s hands.

“Chloe Rose Burke? Oh man…it even says you’re a sixteen year old girl.”

“What the hell man?! Do I look like a teenage girl?!” Looking at Sam, or now Chloe, he didn’t cut an impressively masculine form and he had gotten several compliments on his “Baby face” at work. His auburn hair didn’t touch his shoulders but it was so feathery and soft from a distance he could be mistaken for a teenage girl with a pixie cut.

“You can just get another one, right?”

“Good fakes take time, time I don’t have anymore. I’m screwed!”

“...that sucks.”

“Are you making fun of me?!”

“No! I just…I don’t know what else to say.”

Sam sighed and shook his head, for the first time noticing a large bag of clothes on the kitchen table. “Going somewhere?”

“Yes, actually. Thanks to…Neely,” Mark thought better to blame Sam, “I won’t be able to make rent next week.”

“Why not?”

“...I have no more money.”

“You’ll get your cut.”

“I didn't even want the money in the first place," Mark did not in fact want the money but it was heavily implied refusing to take a cut would have dire consequences for him, "Besides, they’ll be watching my account and wonder where I’m getting the money. I can’t afford this apartment and with no job…I’ll not be able to get another one either.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“...I don’t have a choice…I have to see if my mother will let me move back home with her until I can find another job.”

Sam hissed, “Sorry, dude.” he picked up a still unopened bottle of beer and handed it to Mark. Mark sighed and took the beer, sitting beside Sam. They were both screwed,Sam was supposed to be gone, Mark was supposed to keep his job, what did it matter at this point that Sam was the cause? He couldn’t turn him into the cops now, he had lied, and turning him in wouldn’t get him his job back…and he wouldn’t have his cut anymore. Something he never wanted but now desperately needed to survive.

So the two sat drinking a beer together in silence for several minutes before Mark finally spoke, “You were right, it does suck. Did you know I hadn’t spoken to my mother in sixteen years?”

“No, shit? What happened?”

“I was dating a girl she didn’t like. Amber, she was…she was smart, funny, a real beauty.”

“Why didn’t she like her?”

“She didn’t come from money like her.”

“Whoa, you’re rich?!”

“No, my mother is.”

“That’s what all the rich kids say.”

“She cut me off when I left to be with Amber.” Mark sighed and sipped his beer, “You know…I actually heard she died a few years ago?”

“So you two didn’t stick it out?”

“Nah…life doesn’t work out like that.”

“Damn dude, and you didn’t talk to your mom even after you broke up?”

“Nah…she warned me that Amber would leave me the second she found out I didn’t have money anymore.”

“Did she?”

“No…but she would always say she did and I didn’t want to hear that for the rest of my life.”

“I hear ya.”

“What about you?”

“Me? I grew up poor, mom died when I was two, been in and out of foster homes until my friend found me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be…I ran the streets and dropped out of school in sixth grade.”

“What? How’d you get a job at the bank?”

“...They’re very good forgeries.” Sam smirked. “Usually.”

“Yeah…if only you were a girl these would be great. Actually, in the right light...” Mark teased Sam, relaxed or emboldened by their mutual sorrows and .

“Please, no one would ever buy it.”

“Nah, you could. Some lip gloss, stuff a bra, you could be a tomboy.”

“One ugly as sin tomboy!” Sam and Mark laughed. It was odd to Mark for him to laugh with his bully like they were friends but his only other option was to burst into tears and he didn’t really feel like doing that in front of Sam.

“I’m sure you’d make a very pretty girl.”

“As pretty as Amber?”

“Well…you two have the same color hair. But nah, she was a knockout.”

“Big cans huh?”

“Don’t be so crass!”

“Alright, dad!” Sam stood up and walked into the kitchen, cracking open another beer, slowly returning. “How long ago did you say you saw your mom?”

“A little over sixteen years. Why?”

“Well…what if I came with you?”

“....look I’m not gonna rat you out if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Nah, I figure if you were going too you would’ve done it by now. No, I mean…I come with you and pretend to be Chloe. At least until I can reach out to my contacts and get a better ID.”

“Why would I be okay with that though?”

“An extra ten grand when I’m gone?”

“....what would I tell my mom where my…daughter, I’m guessing, went?”

“It’s not an overnight thing, I need to lay low for a few months anyway, then getting better forgeries, that’ll cost time and money. You can just say she left for college and decided to not have anything to do with you anymore.”

“I don’t know…this sounds pretty crazy. You said so yourself, no one would buy you as a girl.”

Sam put his beer on the table and sighed, “Hiii,” Sam suddenly cheered in the perfect imitation of a valley girl, “like my name is Chloe! What’s your name, cutie?!”

“What the hell was that?”

“I ran a lot of scams as a kid.” he said in his normal voice, “Got pretty good at mimicking voices and accents too.”

“Weird….” Mark thought for a moment, more money by the end would be a good nest egg to start with…he could even invest it here and there to build it up even further in a way that wouldn’t raise eyebrows at the IRS. “...What do I have to do?”

That evening Mark and his new “daughter”, Chloe, boarded a train to Portland. The trip itself was easy enough with Chloe’s IDs. They decided to board separately so no one would be suspicious why a man was boarding a train with a young girl. But after two hours on the train Chloe got up and found Mark in the dining car. “Hi, daddy.” He cheered in his valley girl voice.

“Don’t call me that.” Mark grumbled.

“Fine, what would I call you?”

“Well…you’re a tomboy, so I guess dad?”

“What did you call your dad?”

“...Pops.”

“So, dad.” Mark groaned again, “Believe it or not family nicknames tend to pass from generation to generation.”

“What?”

“It’s true. Me and…let’s call him Dale, me and Dale ran a couple of scams as a father/son team.”

“...Why?”

“Get access to certain places. People are more likely to trust a parent and child duo. Mother/Daughter teams obviously are the best. Especially if they’re pretty enough.”

“You know, you seem like you’re pretty intelligent…why’d you get caught up in all of this?”

Chloe glared at Mark, “That’s not part of the deal. We should talk about our backstory.”

“Fine. Amber left when I was a little over eighteen…so I guess you would’ve been two at the time?”

“Did I ever see you again?”

“Uh…I don’t know.”

Chloe rolled his eyes, “Let’s say I saw you a couple of times a year but mom finally decided it was too much hassle putting me on a plane twice a year so I could spend the week with you. Plus you were busy with your job.”

“I’m not coming off like a great guy in this story.”

“What can I say, part time dads suck.”

“...about the swearing. My mother is pretty old school, so you’ll have to…you know…stop.”

“I will. I know how to play my part. I’m more worried about you. What’s my favorite ice cream?”

“What? How should I know?”

“Wrong, strawberry with sprinkles.”

“Really?”

“No. But if you say it with confidence no one will really question it.”

“Okay…do we have any happy memories I could share with my mother?”

“I don’t know, do we?”

“...yes. We do?”

“Confidence, man.”

“We do…when you were five I took you to the zoo. You loved the birds but the monkeys scared you so bad you wet yourself.”

“Oh come on!”

“What? It’s what kids do.”

“Starting to see why I didn’t want to keep visiting.”

“But how was my lying?”

“Better, I guess. I’d keep the pants wetting stories to a minimum, I’d hate to tell gammy about the time I caught you hogtied while the neighbor lady whipped you.” An older man turned and stared at the two. “What?” Chloe snarled at the man until he turned back around. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“...You wouldn’t call her gammy.”

“Fine, what would I call her?”

“Grandmother.”

“Ugh…one of those.” Their conversation continued for the better part of five hours as they discussed various potential problems and how Mark should react to them.

The next morning, both men exited the train separately. Mark threw his luggage into the trunk of his rental car before driving three blocks and picking up Chloe. Not having much else besides his money and the clothes on his back he got from a goodwill donation box before leaving town he was packed relatively light. The bag itself was an unattended hello kitty bookbag he stole from the train station. It sold the bit of being a teenage girl and allowed him to ditch the duffle bag out of a window when no one was looking. Jared/Dale taught him to always be careful and cover his tracks as much as possible. It saddened him a little that he would never see his mentor again.

Sam was practically drooling as they pulled into the large McMansion. “Wow! The old bat is loaded, loaded!”

“Grandmother, and…yes. She has quite a bit. Okay…hopefully she doesn’t turn us away.”

“Wait…you didn’t call her?”

“...No. It’s easier to turn someone away on the phone than at the door, right?”

“Yeah…especially when they have a kid.”

“You ready?”

“Ready as ever, dad.”

Both men exited the car, walking up the steps past the roaring lion statues and stopped at the monolithic wooden door. “Here goes.” Mark pulled a chain hanging from the overhang. A loud bell rang throughout the house and a few minutes later an elderly man in a stiff suit opened the door.

“May I help you?”

“....Beatrice Pasini still lives here right?”

“She does. Who may I say is calling?”

“Her son. Mark.”

The stern man looked Mark over with a cold sneer, “I shall see if she is receiving guests at this time.” The door quickly slammed in his face.

“Guests?! I’m her son!” Mark grit his teeth angrily.

“Wow…not the warm welcome I was expecting, dad.” Chloe pulled a strip of gum out of the pilfered bag.

“Like I said, it’s been a while. The butler is new.”

Several minutes later the stern man opened the door again, this time Beatrice stood in the doorway as he held the door off to the side. “Mark?” The elderly woman may have been nearing sixty but she had taken care of herself and had necessary surgeries needed to keep it from her face. Her raven black hair was pulled into a tight bun.

“Hello, mother.”

Beatrice looked to Chloe with an obvious look of disapproval. “And who is this?”

“T-this is my daughter. Chloe. Chloe, this is your grandmother.” Chloe smiled and held his arms out for a hug.

Beatrice politely shook the girl’s hand. “Charmed.” Turning back to Mark she asked, “And what brings you to my ancestral home?”

‘Ancestral,’ He scoffed internally, 'grandfather had it built in the thirties.’ “Uh, there was an incident at work and…basically I lost my job.”

“Are there not other jobs where you live?”

“Uh, yes ma’am but it will take time and if it were just me I could survive but since I have Chloe…” He let the old woman fill in the blanks.

“I suppose you wish to return home?”

“Just until I find another job, then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Beatrice sighed and turned around, “Very well. Sheffield will prepare the guest room.”

“Thank you, mother.” Mark shook his head following the elderly woman inside.

As Chloe entered Sheffield reached out a hand, “Your bag mum?”

“No thanks jeeves, I got it.” He tightened his grip on his bag and followed Mark who had left his bag in Sheffield’s hand. The house was three stories with a large grand stairway in the center of the marble foyer that split into two balconies leading into other areas of the house. Sheffield disappeared as Beatrice led the two guests into the sitting room where she sat in a large wingback chair. Mark sat on the soft green couch closest to his mother while Chloe sat at the opposite end, clutching his bag to his chest.

“So explain to me about this…incident at work?” Mark explained in detail all that he could about his firing, leaving out of course the fact Chloe was one of the robbers, actually a twenty-five year old man, and the reason he lost his job. Chloe was surprised she was more interested in him losing his job rather than the sudden granddaughter. “That is quite the tale.” Was all she said, Chloe actually felt a little bad for Mark, growing up with a frigid bitch of a mother like that? No wonder he was such a pushover. “About this…Chloe you claim is my granddaughter? Where did she come from?”

“...You remember Amanda Pierson?”

“The little tramp I warned you only wanted you for my money?”

“...This is our daughter.” Chloe waved lightly as the old woman looked at him.

“Is it now?”

“Yeah. S-she takes more after her mother.”

“And where is her mother?”

Mark froze, he didn’t want to tell her the truth…or the part of the truth they agreed was worth telling, “My mom, like, left my dad when I was two.” Chloe offered.

“Did she now?”

Mark shuddered, “Yes, mother, she did. We tried to make it work but…in the end it was better to not put Chloe through that.”

“I see. Does she want nothing to do with her child?”

‘What a bitch!’ Everything about Beatrice’s tone was derisive and laced with venom. Everyone was beneath her, even her own kin. “My mom died, actually.”

Mark reached out and gave Chloe’s knee a squeeze through his shortalls. “She did, about three years ago. Pancreatic cancer. Before she…before she passed we agreed Chloe should come live with me.”

“And now me.” The old woman picked up a small tea cup from a silver platter and sipped at it, “But, I suppose we are family. If you wish to live here you both must still follow my rules.”

“Yes mother.” Mark used a monumental amount of restraint to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

“What rules?”

“No raucous parties, no , no , no…night guests, no loud music, no rude language or gestures, and…no inappropriate clothing.”

Chloe looked at his shortalls and black shirt with a metal band covering his stuffed bra. “Ah, mother. Chloe is a bit of a tomboy.”

“You allowed this?”

“W…well mostly her mother, but I didn’t see the point in forcing her to dress up just to go to school and hang out at the apartment.”

“A young lady must always look her best.” Beatrice looked down her angular nose at Chloe. Beatrice wore a white pencil dress with a long sleeve black coat with small pearl buttons and a diamond brooch pinned above her right breast and matching white pumps. If her stare wasn’t intimidating enough for Chloe, her dress certainly simply screamed money and power. Chloe slowly blew a large pink bubble at the woman, tucking his dirty sneakers under him.

Sheffield suddenly stood in the arched entrance of the study, “The guest room has been prepared, mum.” Chloe immediately stood, eager to leave the sight of the harpy in the wingback, but stopped when he saw that Mark hadn’t yet moved.

“Very well then. Show my granddaughter to her new room while I discuss some private matters with my son.” For a moment Chloe considered not leaving Mark alone with the cold intolerable woman, but a small nod from his new partner in crime sent him slowly to the archway.

The walk up the stairs took them through a long hallway and passed several shut doors. “Hey, Jeeves.” Chloe said, stopping by the fifth door still with his valley accent, “Aren’t these, like, rooms?”

Sheffield stopped and turned on a heel to face the rude young miss. “Young miss, my name is not Jeeves,” he added with a bitter note to his usual monotone voice, “It is Sheffield. You may call me thus, Mr.Sheffield, or even ‘you there’ if you wish. But never, Jeeves.”

“Okay.”

“As to your question; Yes, these are rooms but not your room, here we have the library,” He indicated the closest door with his hand.

“Wasn’t that where we just were with all the books?”

Sheffield sighed, “No, mum, that was the sitting room. The library is where she keeps her collected works, some of great value and rarity.”

“Really?”

“Yes, though those are contained within hermetically sealed glass to protect them from further decay.”

“Ah.” Chloe had no idea what hermetically sealed glass meant, but he understood that if rich people wanted it, it was worth money.

“Here,” he gestured to the door beside it, “is Madame’s music room, and beyond that is the young master’s room.”

“Young master? You mean M-my dad?”

“Yes, your father’s room.”

“So…where’s her room?”

“Your grandmother’s room is on the opposite side of the house.”

“...seems kinda far.”

“She enjoys her privacy.”

“Yeah.”

“And here,” He pointed to one of two doors on the opposite side of the hallway was her father’s, your great grandfather’s trophy room.”

“Oh yeah? Gramps did sports?” Without asking Chloe opened the door, inside he saw dozens of varying animal heads from a lion to a boar, and even a standing grizzly bear in the corner, in the center was an elephant tusk under glass. “Sheesh! Great white hunter, indeed.”

Sheffield closed the door in Chloe’s face, “Proper young ladies do not pry.”

“Come on, sheff, I never met the old guy, I’m, like, just curious and all.”

“If you wish to learn more about your family history there are diaries in the library. I will ask the Madame if she will allow you to read them.”

“Thanks.”

“Now, if you would please follow me to your room. I took the liberty of bringing a few items down from the attic in the hopes of making yours more comfortable.”

“Oh, thanks man!” He cheered eagerly. What little Chloe knew of rich kids his age was they had the latest in electronics, from games, to computers, and flat screens. For a moment he thought he might just slow roll getting a new identity and just lay low here for the time being.

Until Sheffield opened the door to his room. The pink bedspread was the first thing he noticed of the four poster bed. The second was the white lace princess drapes hanging from the canopy. The rest of the room was a generic beige color but the intricate design of the woodwork in the corner only made it seem all the more feminine. The original intent was of course to make guests feel welcome and like royalty…but when paired with the twin sized princess bed, dozens of dolls sitting on shelves on the wall, the hoard of stuffed animals on the bed, and the small alcove decoratively painted with a scene from some fairy tale…it screamed not just girl, but the girliest girl who ever girled. “Oh, shit.” Sheffield cleared his throat, “Fuck. Sorry, like, I know you guys don’t like foul language. Gonna take some getting used to.”

“Quite. If there is anything further you require feel free to use the intercom. I will be able to hear it in any room.”

“Thanks.” Chloe groaned. Maybe he wouldn’t delay getting a new identity after all.

Downstairs, Mark sat dutifully in front of his mother. “Tell me about…Carol?”

“Chloe?”

“Yes, Chloe.”

“...Well her favorite ice cream is strawberry.”

“...I will inform Sheffield when he does the shopping later. But, I meant, tell me about her situation. Does she have a young man in her life?”

“Uh, no, at least none she’s ever spoken of.”

“Good lord…she’s not …lesbian?” She whispered the last word as if it were foul.

“No. I mean…” Mark thought for a second, he had said no out of reflex knowing how she felt about LGBT people in general or “Those people” as she often referred to them when he was younger.

“Excellent. I noticed you only brought one bag with you both. Does she not have any clothes of her own?”

“Actually…her bag was lost on the train.”

“You…rode the rails?”

“It was a nice car, mother. Besides, Chloe…never had ridden one before and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. Just something to cheer h-her up given our situation.”

“Yes. And they lost her luggage.” Beatrice sipped her tea before setting it on the small china saucer and then on the silver platter. “But, perhaps it’s for the best. If what she wore today was any indication of her fashion sense, perhaps she can use some guidance in selecting a proper wardrobe for a young lady.”

“Well, about that, we-me and Amber-”

“Amber and I.”

“Right…we just usually let her wear what she wants.”

Beatrice gasped, “You let her dress as a harlot?!”

“What? No! Just whatever she’s-”

“I will not have her traipsing around my home dressed as some french prostitute!”

“What?! She’s not! She’s sixteen and-”

“And I’ve seen sixteen year old girls these days. So uncouth, absolutely no class and no shame about them. I will not stand for such a thing! If she wishes to disgrace herself then she can do so somewhere else. Perhaps a street corner.”

“What?! You’re kicking hi-us out already?!”

“Not if she dresses and acts appropriately. This is still my house after all.”

“....I’ll, uh, talk to her.”

“See that you do.”

“Was there anything else,” Mark felt his anger rising, over the years he had questioned his decision to leave given how everything turned out, but he remembered Amber was just the final straw, “or did you just want to insult my daughter some more?”

“Watch your tone.” She chided before picking up her tea once again, “If you recall Easter is approaching and we are to host a dinner for charity as we have done every year.”

“I remember.” ‘Charity’ he scoffed, ‘Just an excuse to flaunt money and social climb.’ “I take it you want us out of the house that evening?”

“On the contrary,” for a moment he thought he saw her stern expression falter, “I would like you both to attend. If need be I can send you to your father’s tailor, Mr. Desroches.”

“He’s still alive?” Mark asked in amazement, Desroches was an old man when he made a suit for his first communion.

“Oh yes. And still as skilled as ever.”

“Okay.”

“So please do ensure Chloe is dressed appropriately for the function.”

“Of course, mother.”

Beatrice stood, smoothing out the slight crease in her dress, “It is good to see you again, son.” As always her voice never wavered, it remained cool and even without revealing any emotion whatsoever.

“It’s good to see you again too, mother.” He stood as well. With her heels he was only two inches taller than she was.

“I trust you remember where your room is.”

“I do…I think I’ll go check on Chloe first.”

“As you wish.” Beatrice nodded slightly and walked out of the sitting room, leaving Mark

[alone.

In

](http://alone.In) the guest room Chloe stood in disgust as he examined the room for any sign of masculinity. “And I thought the Hello Kitty bag was girly. It’s like an estrogen bomb went off in here.” he scoffed, picking up a porcelain doll from the shelf dressed in Victorian finery. “This could be worth something.” The door opened and Chloe dropped the doll with a loud crunching sound. “Fuck!” He swore at the shattered face of the doll. Looking up he saw his fake father. “You could knock!”

“Sorry? Oh no, you broke Penelope.”

“It has a name? You know its name?!”

“Yeah. Mother was rather fond of her doll collection when she was younger.” Mark bent down to pick up the poor broken doll with a sigh.

“...My bad.”

“Yeah…so hey, we need to talk.” Mark placed the doll’s remains on the small bench seat in the alcove.

“What about?”

“My mother…I think…well I’m pretty sure, she wants to take you shopping.”

“Oh cool, for what a car?!”

“Close…clothes.”

“How the f-! How is that close? And why?”

“Well, remember when I picked you up and asked where your bag was and you said you only had that?”

“Yeah?”

“So she was curious too.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said the train lost your luggage.”

“Not bad.”

“Yeah…so now she wants to take you to get some clothes.”

“...Sure. Why not? I could use some new threads.” Chloe said, picking his bag up off of the bed.

Mark thought for a moment, staring up at his fake daughter, he was the reason for all of this after all. Calling the cops wasn’t an option anymore but he could at least get a little payback. “Yeah, you guys are gonna have fun.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m actually going to get a suit tailored after I finish unpacking. There’s a party this weekend and we’re invited.”

“Cool. Will there be babes there or just old bitties?”

“A fair mix from what I remember.”

“Cool. I guess I should get going with…grandmother.” Chloe rolled his eyes as he headed to the door.

“Wait.” Mark stopped him at the door.

“What?”

“...your favorite ice cream is strawberry.” Chloe clicked her tongue and gave the man a thumbs up before walking out of the feminine room.

Chloe made the long walk from his room to the grand staircase, pausing to look at the stained glass window hanging above it depicting an angel with a spear slaying a lion. “These guys like killing things.” He shook his head and crossed to the opposite balcony and followed the long hallway where he found two hallways turning in opposite directions. Taking a guess based on the layout of the other side of the house he turned left and found a series of doors. The first two were locked. The third opened to an interior balcony of a large ballroom. “Uh…okay.” Turning around to the other two doors opening the first he found a large bathroom with what looked like a small empty pool. After a moment of staring he realized it was in fact a massive tub large enough to fit a buick. The second door opened into a room full of women's clothes similar to what Beatrice had been wearing in the sitting room. "Wow, lady. Put your son on the other side of your mansion but turn an entire room into a walk-in closet?" Turning around and taking the second hallway he found a singular door with stairs that lead to the attic. “What idiot designs a house like this?!” He yelled in frustration as he returned to the top of the grand staircase.

“My father.” Turning around he saw the elderly woman walking down the staircase he just came from.

“Oh…sorry. I was trying to find you and Sheff said your room was on this side of the house but I couldn’t find it.”

“Sheff?” Beatrice slowly closed the distance between herself and her granddaughter.

“The butler? Head lock a chopping block? Spats?”

“Ah, Sheffield. Yes.” Though she was only two inches taller than Chloe thanks to her heels it felt to him like she towered over him. Very few people in his life made him feel this way, Jared being one of them. “Was there a reason you were searching for me?”

“...I, um…Mar-”

“Who?”

“...my dad?”

“Ah, your father.”

“R…right. Anyway, he, like, said we were going shopping?”

“Did you wish to go shopping with me?”

“Yeah. I mean…I, like, totally love shopping. We can have a girl’s day.” He a bubbly smile to his face. The woman eyed the boy for a moment before she descended the stairs and pressed a button on the intercom.

“Sheffield, bring the car around. Chloe and I are going to ‘have a girl’s day out’.” Chloe wasn’t sure but thought he saw a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth before it quickly returned to her usual stoic nature.

The ‘Car’ that Chloe saw make its slow arc around the circular drive was a pure work of art and vintage craftsmanship to Chloe. The feminized man stood in awe as Sheffield opened the rear passenger seat of the ancient Cadillac for the women. He had only seen cars like this in old gangster movies he used to watch with his friends. “Whoa, this is cool!” Chloe shouted as he took in the entirety of the limousine. “Thirty-five?”

“Thirty-three, mum.” Sheffield corrected.

“Amazing.”

“Is it the V-12?”

“Chloe.” Beatrice said sharply. “It is rude to keep your host waiting.”

“We’ll talk later, Sheff.” Chloe climbed in the backseat one leg at a time much to the disgust and dismay of the elders.

“Of course.” Sheffield huffed as Beatrice smoothed out the hem of her dress and sat down delicately before turning to place her legs inside the vehicle. ‘We have a lot of work to do.’ They both thought as Sheffield closed the door.

Chloe expected a trip to a mall, perhaps, talk the old woman into buying a home theater system for his room but Beatrice laughed when he asked about the mall. “I have never set foot in those things and as long as you live with me you won’t have to either.” It sounded like she meant it as a good thing, but it certainly didn’t sound like it to him. “By the way…Chloe, did your father inform you of the charity dinner we are hosting this weekend?”

“Uh..oh yeah, he did.”

Beatrice took in a big breath of air before speaking, “Young lady. Did your father not teach you manners?”

“Huh?”

Beatrice visibly cringed, “Pardon.”

“Pardon who?”

“No, we do not say ‘huh’ or ‘yeah’,” she spoke in an exaggeration of unintelligence as she saw it, “We say, ‘Pardon?’ or ‘Yes ma’am,’ or ‘Yes grandmother.’ Do you understand?”

Chloe wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh in her face or spit, was she really trying to teach him manners?! ‘I swear if I had any other choices.’ “Yes, grandmother.” He said politely.

“Excellent.” For the first time she smiled, but only for a moment, “Now, about the charity dinner, have you given any thought to what you wished to wear?”

“I guess a nice suit?”

“Pardon?”

“...I mean, I haven’t, like, thought about it. I’ve never, like, been to a fancy dinner so I guess whatever you suggest?”

“Truly?”

“Fer sure.”

Beatrice sighed. There was so much to do with this young girl. She wanted a suit? To wear in front of people? She worried her father had been mistaken and she was indeed a lesbian after all. They all wore pants and dressed like men. But that could simply be due to a lack of a feminine role model in their lives, that mother of hers certainly did not fit the bill by her standards. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise and she could say her granddaughter from the path of sin and fornication.

Sheffield opened the door for Beatrice who gracefully exited the back seat of the town car. “This place looks fancy as f-balls!” Chloe shouted as he climbed out of the rear passenger seat, not waiting for Sheffield to open the door for him. Beatrice gave Sheffield a look who returned it with concern, but Chloe was correct. The stores which they stood outside of were indeed fancy as…well you heard him. The entire block looked like one continuous building with only the shop windows and the hanging signs to differentiate them.

“Chloe d…Chloe, come here.” Beatrice took the tomboy’s hand, pulling it close and linking arms, “Remember our lesson about manners?”

“Yea-yes grandmother?”

“A young lady does not shout,” She said calmly, “but she especially never shouts…what you did.”

“...I was trying not to swear.”

“I realize that.” Beatrice pulled Chloe into a dress shop, “I also realize your father certainly has a…permissive style of parenting.”

“He’s not so bad.”

“Yes. Even still, I imagine it will be quite an adjustment for you now that you are under my tutelage but if you do everything I say, you shall see multiple benefits.”

“Under your what?” Chloe asked, genuinely confused.

“...” Beatrice paused, her granddaughter could not be both stupid and ill mannered! “I will teach you how to be a proper young lady and you will learn.”

“I think I make a pretty good girl.” Chloe smirked.

“Not quite.” Beatrice approached a woman standing behind a semi-circular counter.

"Good morning ma'am," the woman adjusted her glasses and stood a little bit straighter, "my name is Winifred, how may I help you?" The raven haired Winifred was smartly dressed for work as much as her salary would allow.

"Good morning, Winifred. My granddaughter needs a completely new wardrobe as you can see." The old woman gestures to the male tomboy behind her.

“I can see that. What did you have in mind for her?”

“Something modest yet elegant with a classic touch. Girls today just don’t dress femininely any more.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” She lied, but a sale was a sale, “Now we have some lovely new dresses for spring if you’d like.”

“Dresses?” Chloe immediately stepped closer in an attempt to take control of the situation.

“That does sound lovely.”

“I don-”

“Shh.” Beatrice hushed her granddaughter immediately, “We have a function we are attending, well hosting, and she will of course be in attendance and have to dress to impress. Something similar to a high neck, perhaps?"

Winifred looked at the confused young girl. A high neck would accentuate her neckline more, but in a way that would draw attention to its width rather than its length. “A nice halter strap would show off…the gentle slope of her neck.”

“That would be much too immodest.”

"A queen Anne then?"

'Isn't that a ship?' Chloe thought as he watched these women discuss him as if he were a piece of furniture. “Don’t I get any-”

“Shh.” Beatrice hushed the man. “What about a square neck?”

“I think we should have something you and your granddaughter will just love.”

“Wonderful. Chloe, go with Winifred while Sheffield and I select something for you to wear out.”

“But-”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of dear,” Winifred spoke softly as she took the nervous girl’s hand, “we’re just going to take your measurements for your bustline.”

“Measure my what?” Chloe stood his ground as the taller woman pulled him along, looking more like an unruly child than an adult man.

“Chloe, if you do not behave so help me God I shall take you over my knee right here and spank you until you’re as red as a fire hydrant.”

“Listen-” Chloe started to snap back that he was a grown ass man and no one would ever spank him unless he paid for it, but thought better of it as he still needed her for cover. “I mean…Sorry, grandmother.” He could afford to risk her blowing up just yet, not when he had ideas in the works that involved access to her house.

"That's better. There is hope for you yet Chloe."

Chloe a fake smile which turned into a sneer as he walked away with the pushy saleswoman.

The dressing room was an actual room with mirrors on each wall strategically placed so that when a customer stood on the rounded pedestal on the floor in the center of the room they could see their dress from every possible angle. And of course if that wasn't enough there were three angled mirrors directly in front of the pedestal showcasing the front and sides of Chloe who now stood awkwardly in front of them.

“Now let me see what I’m working with.” Winifred examined the feminized man with great detail, this was not her first tomboy she had to help come out of her shell, and by God she would do so again. Immediately she noted an issue that would possibly cause Chloe’s shy behavior and unfashionable dress. Her breasts were very small, almost nonexistent and barely noticeable to the naked eye. “Hmm, okay let us begin.” She stood on the pedestal with Chloe and unclipped the first buttonhook of her shortalls.

“Hey! W-what are you doing?” He begged nervously.

“I have to measure your bust line so that your dress will fit correctly.”

“Uh, look, I’m, like, really not a dress wearin’ kinda gal. So if you could just tell the old lady nothin’ here looked good on me I’ll back you up. I’ll still pay you for your time if you're worried about losing a commission.”

“And have our reputation ruined within the community at large?”

“No, no. I’ll make sure everyone knows it’s not your fault. I’m just…not the type.”

“Chloe, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We are a high end establishment. I do not work on ‘commission’ and our reputation has always been stellar. If word were to get out that I failed to find a proper dress for Mrs.Pasini’s granddaughter?”

“...Is she really that big a deal?”

“She is indeed. Now, let’s continue. You’re not the first under-endowed young girl I’ve had to measure.” The second snap sprung free. The previous struggle and ill fitting bra, and now Chloe’s attempt to hold on to his clothes had caused the socks balled up in his bra to slip down slightly. “I think I see your problem.” The woman reached into the man’s shirt quickly.

“Hey!” But it was too late, she held the balled up sock in her hand. He was busted due to a lack of bust! “P-please don’t tell anyone.” He begged nervously as he searched around nervously for an emergency exit.

“Like I said before,” She threw the socks away into a corner, “you are not the first under-endowed girl I’ve had to measure.”

“I-...Wait you’re not gonna tell anyone?”

“I am offended you take me for the town gossip. Of course I will not tell.”

“Oh…good. Thanks.” Chloe stepped off the pedestal only for her to grab his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“I kinda need those.”

“I have something much better and more realistic.”

“Really?”

“Of course, we are a full service shop. Now raise your arms.” The boy kept his hands covering his flat chest fearfully, “Before I call your grandmother.” Reluctantly he raised his arms high. She the boy to remain still while she measured his flat chest. ‘Poor girl hasn’t even started puberty yet. No wonder.’ Winifred thought back to how Beatrice had chastised the young girl and the childish backpack she came in with that was now lying against the pedestal and realized Chloe must have been about fourteen. ‘Plenty of time to grow’, she thought as she measured her overbust next, ‘And if not, she has enough money to pick up where nature left off.’ Her bust, bust and underbust were nearly the same sizes. Though, telling her that she would grow or could fix the problem would not help as she knew from her own experiences at that age. When you’re a child there’s always such a rush to become an adult. Finally, she measured the arms, wrists, and neck. Ultimately he measured out a thirty-two A cup. “Wait here and you might as well disrobe as well.” Without waiting for a reply Winifred left Chloe alone.

He couldn’t get naked in front of this woman! She might’ve been dumb enough to think he was a flat chested girl but once she saw the bulge in his underwear she would surely figure him out. But…if he didn’t she would call in the old lady and she would immediately notice something was wrong. He could run…it wouldn’t be the first time he lived on the streets…but a runaway teen would put cops on high alert, especially if Beatrice was as important as Winifred acted like she was.

Pulling down his shortalls quickly, remaining in his boxer briefs he stared at the obvious bump. ‘Maybe I can convince her I’m trans?’ The thought was immediately rejected, a flat chested girl wasn’t much in the way of gossip but the trans granddaughter of an heiress? That would be all over town by sundown. He also knew that would bring more scrutiny from those around him even if Beatrice didn’t immediately throw him out. He met a few teenagers on the streets whose parents had kicked them out because they were trans. Everyone looked at them, their every move was newsworthy so everyone knew where they were at all times. And more than a few friends had made a guessing game of which ‘girl’ was actually a boy or not. If someone recognized him as a boy it would be bad, but that could possibly lead to someone recognizing him as an adult man from the news.

Winifred re-entered the room holding a selection of bras and saw that Chloe was stripped to her boy shorts. She really was going full tomboy. “Here we go, let’s get this on you first.” She stood behind the girl and helped her slip her arms through the straps. Once the hooks were in place the cups hung loosely against her chest. “I-I don’t think it fits.” Winifred could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Not yet, but they will when you’re older. Until then,” Chloe shivered as something cold and sticky was placed against his nipple inside the cup, “these will make do.”

Looking down, Chloe saw the woman had placed small fake boobs to his chest, “What the hell?” He gasped, he had almost laughed when the dumb cow brought a bra too big, but with the new additions they just did fit.

“Now, these will peel off with some nail polish remover and warm water so just remember that before you get in any hot tubs with boys.”

“B-...what the hell are these?!”

“They’re falsies. They’re perfect for girls like you.”

“Like me?”

“Yes. Now hold still.” Winifred stepped away, examining her handiwork. “The colors match perfectly.” She proceeded to take out a small brush from a small compact and rub something on his chest.

“What’s that?”

“A little makeup. We wanna make sure the edges are invisible.”

“Oh…” Watching in the mirror as the fake breasts slowly faded out of sight, leaving realistic looking breasts behind.

“There, now you’re a B cup.”

“Don’t you think she’ll notice?”

“As tight as your shirt was, she’ll believe your chest was simply smushed down. I also told her your bra was much too small for your size. More of a sports bra really.”

“You…you told her that?”

“I had a grandmother too.” She smirked. “I understand she is a lot to live up to, in more ways than one.” The woman smiled, and Chloe smiled back. From the pictures he saw of a much younger Beatrice back in the day he knew she’d be called a milf had her days been now. She was at a glance, D cups, and had a curvaceous body that no doubt drove the boys wild. Now she was less sexy and more mature but still a striking beauty behind her harsh facial expressions.

Winifred knelt in front of Chloe, the moment of truth, he could only hope tucking his penis back was enough to flatten his crotch. Wrapping the measuring tape around his waist, then his hips, and finally his thighs, she had a lot of opportunity to find out what he really was but she either was too focused on her tasks or he had done a good enough job that she didn’t notice anything hidden in his underwear. “Perfect, we just need your shoe size next and we’ll be finished.”

“I already have a pair of shoes.”

Winifred laughed unexpectedly, “You’re funny.”

After what felt like an eternity, Chloe’s dress and heels had been selected for the party. She had even given him tips on what style of makeup he should wear to match his dress. He was happy to hear that was over…until Sheffield brought in a collection of clothes.

Instinctively he covered himself with a pink cocktail dress hanging from a rack, not wanting the stern man to see his boyish body. “What’s this for?” He whined. They had been there at least two hours already! Surely they were done with all this girly crap!

“To wear out, of course.”

“I-I have to wear it now?”

“Of course, the Madame insisted.”

“Come on, man. It’s so…girly.”

“You are a girl, after all. I suggest you act the part for your own sake.” Was the butler threatening him? Did he actually know he was a man? That he wasn’t really her granddaughter? ‘No,’ he reasoned, ‘if he knew he would tell her for sure.’ Sheffield turned on his heel again and walked out. “Is this dress crap really that important?” He asked, thinking he was alone.

“It is very important.” Winifred said sorting the chosen outfits into piles on a small countertop.

“I mean…I’ve seen kids, other kids, they don’t dress this fancy.”

“And where was that?”

“L.A.”

“Well, we do things differently here. Maybe what you wore before was acceptable and they wouldn’t bat an eye but here you’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Really?”

Winifred stopped and faced the girl in her underwear, still cowering behind the dress rack, “I do not participate in spreading gossip, but that is not to say I do not hear it from time to time.”

“You think I’m worth gossiping about?”

“My dear, you already are gossip.” Winifred sighed, “I knew who you were before you entered my store.”

“What?! How? I’ve been here, like, three hours.”

“You still do not seem to understand who your grandmother is.” Winifred pulled Chloe out from his hiding place and back onto the pedestal.

“No…dad didn’t talk about her much. Who is she supposed to be then?”

“Beatrice Pasini is the granddaughter of Wilbur Fatorre. He was, according to rumor, a man who commanded respect.”

‘Fatorre…I swear I know that name.’ He thought as she pulled a black skirt up his legs.

“He made his money around the late 1800s in the lumber industry. There was of course no shortage of trees in Oregon at the time. Her father was a very shrewd businessman as well and added to the family fortune. Being a family with a legacy has its perks but also comes with restraints, how you can act, dress, and who you can associate with. You’ll learn in time.”

Chloe thought for a second Winifred sounded sad for him, “W-what if I don’t want to?”

“Your father didn’t either.”

“I thought he left because of Am-of my mom not being rich.”

“Again, this is all according to rumor, but her wealth or lack thereof was only part of the problem, she also did not come from a good family.”

“So she kicked him out over that?”

“I am sure there’s more to it than the rumors I’ve been told.” She cleared her throat as she helped the girl slip her arm into a blouse. “But, just fair warning for the world you’re now a part of, for as long as you’re a part of it.”

Chloe looked at the girlified image of himself in the mirror thoughtfully, he didn’t care about a reputation or family legacy, especially one he wasn’t a part of, but he couldn’t afford to stand out this early on. It wouldn’t be a stretch for the police to have more questions for Mark. And if suddenly he has a ‘daughter’ who was suddenly talked about all over town that might cause trouble for himself. “What do you think?” She asked as she straightened the hem of her pencil skirt.

“…I look like a schoolmarm.” The plaid blouse buttoned up at the neck and the skirt ended at his ankles. “I don’t know, like, a ton, about fashion but I’m sure I’d stand out like crazy if I wore this.”

“You are not wrong. Hmm.” Winifred examined the other outfits sitting on the counter, watching as the boy scratched at the uncomfortable clothes and pulling at the collar. “Let me see what I can do.”

Winifred left the back dressing room and caught the attention of Mrs.Pasini. "Now, I took a few suggestions from your granddaughter as well as your own and I think I found something you both will simply love." She lied ,of course. She hadn't asked Chloe about anything aside from a color preference, and even that was ultimately ignored in the end. Beatrice sat on a couch in a viewing area just outside of the dressing room while Sheffield stood beside and behind the elderly woman in an almost parade rest. “Chloe, come on out, dear.” Winifred sang to the curtain separating them.

Chloe stood on the other side dreading every overheard word. Slowly he opened the curtains and walked into the viewing area. Beatrice eyed the boy up and down from his mauve wedge sandals to the matching chiffon pleated a-line skirt and the blue almost denim blouse. The wide belt cinched his waist tight giving him a more feminine frame than before. “W-what do you think?” He nervously bunched the side of his skirt in his hands. This had unfortunately been the least feminine thing he could talk Winifred into. Everything else made him feel like a stepford wife, not that what he wore now made him feel comfortable, it was simply the lesser of the great evils.

Beatrice continued to eye her granddaughter up and down critically, her clothes were acceptable enough, even if it wasn’t what she would have chosen, but with a few accessories, jewelry perhaps, some light makeup…and a thorough waxing of her arms and legs, and she would be a lovely young woman. For a moment she smiled, “We’ll take it and whatever else similar you can recommend.” Chloe a smile on his face although he was angry that having a mostly modern girly wardrobe was a relief to the old woman uniform his pretend grandmother tried to put him in.

“Oh good, so we can go home now?” He asked excitedly.

“Heavens no. We still have so much work to do before we’re ready to show your father our improvements.” Beatrice took her granddaughter’s hand, leading her out of the store as Sheffield dealt with the business Beatrice left him with.

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The first installment of my $20 tier patreon custom story, copy and paste the link below if you're interested in similar stories or want your own custom story, private or not is up to you.

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