Damaged Goods

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The advent of the Internet was a godsend for me and the myriad of Cross-dressers out there. At last, we could buy clothes and all the trappings we needed for our desires without the embarrassment of having to be seen to be buying 'stuff' in shops full of real women.

The arrival of the Postie bearing my purchases was always an unexpected pleasure. Working from home also allowed me to indulge in my habit on an almost full-time basis mind you, commission-based online sales do not always pay that well but I got by with careful budgeting and just not spending a lot down the pub.
Still, I normally made enough each month so that after paying the mortgage, utility bills, food and some savings there was a little leftover cash for me to buy something new if I wanted to.

This time, I’d resisted buying anything new for almost six months. Finally, I had enough put aside to buy the object I had desired for an awfully long time, a corset.

In my dreams, I had a 36-22-34 figure. In reality, what I hoped to achieve was a lot different from that but I am allowed to dream, aren't I?

I’d put the order in for the device almost six weeks before. Finally, I’d received an email stating that my order had been shipped. I almost jumped for joy at the news.

The doorbell rang a little after 11 am. I could see the Orange Jacket that the Post Office delivery people wore. It was here.

I opened the door and saw the smiling face of my regular postman, Erica. She’d been delivering to my home for almost a year now. She also lived in the next street so we were almost neighbours.

“Parcel for you Mr Goodchild.”

“Thanks. I have been expecting it,” I replied.

“There is a little problem. The packaging was damaged in transit.”

My heart sank.

“May I have a look at it?”

She dug the package out of her trolley and handed it to me.

The black material and gold edging was very visible. My heart hit rock bottom and kept going on down.

"Could you examine the contents for me please? If they are damaged then I have a claim form here so that you can get compensation,” said Erica trying to keep a straight face.

I took the package and rushed into my kitchen. Then I froze. What the hell am I doing? She already knows what is in the package.

After counting to ten, twice, I went back to the front door with a faux smile on my face.

“It is fine Erica, just fine.”

“Good. Do you want to claim compensation for the damage?”

“No. I think that everything is fine.”

“Ok, I have to ask. Rules and all that.”

Then she hesitated,

“See you in The Bull after the carol service tonight?”

I sighed.

“I suppose so,” I replied wearily.

“Great. You can buy me a drink as my Christmas Tip. After all, I have delivered all those parcels to you this past year.”

"Thanks for reminding me, Erica. See you tonight.”

I stood rooted to the spot as she walked down my drive and out onto the road. As she turned the corner, she gave me a little smile.

After shutting my front door, I sank into a chair and tried to get my thoughts in order.

I failed. Miserably.


Finally, the failing afternoon light stirred me into life again.

I picked up the phone and dialled the number of the local estate agents, Baker and Castle.

“Mr Castle? Good. My name is Frank Goodchild. I’d like to arrange a valuation on my property.”

“As soon as possible.”

“Tuesday? That’s fine. Midday ok with you?”

“Fine. My address is 5, Churchview.”

“Yes, that’s it. First on the left past the church. I’ll see you then.”

As I put the phone down, I immediately regretted what I’d just done. Still, at the very least, I’d have to move. I said to myself, ‘you have done this before and you can do it again’.

I don’t remember much about the Carol Service at the Church. I couldn’t very well cry off because I was in the Choir and we were already under-strength due to the usual colds and flu outbreaks. I remember going into the Church in the procession and then I remember the Vicar telling me that I’d sung very well. Then he said,

"There seems to be something on your mind, Frank. If you need to talk then I'm always here you know."

"Thanks, Vicar but I think I can manage."

“Well, just so that you know that I’m here.”

“I know and it was a great service tonight,” I said lying through my teeth.


My next hurdle was the Pub. All the adult Choristers met in the pub after the service. I had to keep up appearances even if it was soon to be my last one as a member of this Choir.

I walked into the bar and all the other choristers were already propping up the bar. The Choir Master, Len Fuller had a tab running so I got my pint and found a seat. I just wasn't in the mood to join in the festivities that were going on at the bar. I wanted to sit alone for a bit enjoying my last pint in the pub. I'd grown to like it in the time I'd been here.

I’d hardly sat down when Erica slid into the seat next to me grinning all over her face.

"Hello, Erica."

“Why are you so down in the dump? You sang beautifully tonight.”

"So I've been told but to be honest, I was going through the motions a bit."

I took a swig of the beer and turned to her.

“You don’t have to worry Erica, I’ll be gone soon.”

“W…what do you mean?”

“I’m selling my home and moving away so you when you broadcast what you saw today to the world, it won’t matter.”

“You…,” then she stormed off.

My victory was Pyrrhic because less than a minute later, she returned almost dragging another woman with her.

“This is my friend Mercedes,” said Erica with a huge grin on her face.

Mercedes was… well different. She and Erica were like chalk and cheese.

While Erica was slightly dumpy, Mercedes was very all and very thin. Her height was emphasised by the knee-high boots with at least a 4in heel that she was wearing. Long Blonde hair and everything put her well outside mine and everyone else in the pub league.

“Mercedes? That’s an unusual name.”

She giggled.

"Mum and dad had sex in the back on one. Nine months later, and boom, I arrived."

Well, she was direct. I liked that in women, but still, the aurora that she emitted told me that she was a do not touch, keep your distance sort of person or you likely get burned to a cinder.

“How do you know Erica?”

"We shared a flat at Uni."

“Oh. What are you doing now? Not another Postie?”

“No. I’m a book reviewer.”

Hmmm…. I thought, 'if she is a book reviewer, then my name is Popeye'.

“I guess I’ll leave the two of you to get acquainted?” said Erica.

With that, she slipped away.

And then I clammed up. In the end, Mercedes said,

“Well, are you going to buy me a drink?”

“What…. Oh… Yeah…. Sure.”

“What would you like?”

“A G&T, and not a lot of ‘T’ if you get my meaning?”

I disappeared to the bar as fast as I could. Mercedes was all woman. Not the sort of woman who would ever be interested in someone like me.

As I waited for my drinks, I tried to get my head around what had just happened.
My mind was still a mess by the time I got back to my seat with our drinks. At first, I'd hoped that Mercedes would have done a runner, but no, she was still there as I sat down and put the drinks on the table.

She smiled at me as she picked hers up.

“Cheers,” she said.

I hurriedly picked mine up, and we chinked glasses.

"Cheers," I said, returning the toast.

"So? I'd guess why I am sitting here is a question that you want to ask but are afraid to do it? Am I correct?"

“Whatever.”

Mercedes laughed.

Before she could say anything, I said,

"It simply does not matter anymore. As I said to your co-conspirator before, I'm selling my house and moving away so, I won't be an embarrassment to the community for much longer. Understand?”

“It is not what you think.”

I took another hefty swig of beer.

“Ok then. What is it? What sort of embarrassment and humiliation do you and 'her' have planned for me, now that she knows my little secret?"

I didn’t wait for an answer because I took one more swig of my beer and walked out of the pub and into the cold night air.


I spent the final few days before Christmas going through everything in the house and packing what I wanted to take with me.

More than once I stopped what I was doing and contemplated just saying ‘to hell with it and going out dressed as I have always wanted to and getting on with life.

Those thoughts were soon consigned to the bin like an awful lot of things I’d acquired in time I’d been in the house. I am a coward. I have always have been one and always will be.


Before the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, I went to the Church, well before the service to give the bad news to the Rev’d Youngman.
The Vicar was disappointed to hear that I’d be leaving the Choir after Christmas.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
"You seem troubled by something. I don't bite, you know."

"I can't Vicar. I know I should, but I just can't."

“When you are ready, I’ll be here for you,” he said softly.

"I know that and, thanks."

I began to feel a lot better as we sang the Christmas Day only verse of ‘Oh Come all Ye Faithfull’.

As we paraded out of the Church after the service, I felt at ease for the first time in weeks.

The two Christmas Day services went off perfectly. Everyone sang their hearts out, which gave me such a good feeling. My last day in the Choir was while sad, was also happy because of the events that were celebrating.

My home had become cold and dull. Most of my things were in boxes already. Once the holidays were over, they'd be going into storage. Then I'd start tarting up my house for the sale.


Thankfully, the holidays were soon over and I could get back to work. I put a lot of effort into my work, which soon began to reap rewards with a good number of sales and take my mind off recent events.

A knock at the door brought me back down to earth.

If I had been dressed, 'en femme' then, I would have ignored it, but all my female clothes were packed away. As I wasn't, I opened the door.

To my surprise, standing there was Mercedes. I looked around for Erica but, she was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh… Hello Mercedes. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call.”

I stepped aside.

“As you can see, I am packing. I’ll be gone from here by the end of the month.”

“It is about that,” said Mercedes.

“Do you want to see the house? I’m just waiting for the agents to put up a ‘For Sale’ sign outside.”

“Please don’t do that,” said Mercedes in a quiet voice.

"Why? I don't want to be around when it becomes common knowledge that I like to wear women's clothing in my home. The gossips in this village will go berserk."

She managed a slight smile.

"Too many people what you do inside your own home is of no concern to them."

I laughed.

“Really? What about all those social media posts about Don Lawrence.”

A local man named, Don Lawrence had been exposed as having two families living less than twenty miles apart. Local Facebook groups had gone bonkers over the photos of his two wives and his eight children. The next day, he hightailed it out of the area, leaving both families in the lurch and a pile of debt. The income from his job as a caretaker at a local school was barely enough to support one family, let alone two.

She didn’t react.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have some more packing to do?"

As I moved to shut the door, Mercedes said,

“I know what it is like to be like you. I was just like you.”

I looked at her and laughed.

“Now I know that you are full of shit! There is no way that you were ever like me. I'm damaged goods, and as such, you should keep well away if you know what is good for you.”

I slammed the door in her face.


Any thoughts of resuming my packing went right out the window the moment the door shut.

There was no way someone who looked like Mercedes did was like me. Her body shape screamed Genetic Female. Her legs were to die for especially, in those skin-tight leather trousers that she'd been wearing for her visit.
I sat down that thought about what I had said to her. Even though it was off the cuff, I was right. I'm damaged goods, and someone as drop-dead gorgeous as her could have the pick of men and women, yet she seemed interested in a loser like me.

That's me, damaged goods and destined to be alone until I found someone who truly understood what people like me went through, just to exist.

[the end]

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Comments

The End?

Is this just 'The End' or the end, end of this chapter. Seems there's more to come.

Beverly.

bev_1.jpg

Hitting close to home

With all of the abuse in my life- starting in infancy- I began identifying with being damaged goods as a young child. After decades of misery and self blame for being true to myself I finally found a therapist who I could have a trust relationship with. It's been a long slog but I now know that the problem isn't me, it is all the people who are afraid to be true to themselves and are, in turn, intolerant of others who won't conform to an arbitrary norm.

Samantha, thanks for this story. It reminds me of just how far I have travelled to accept myself and find a community where I am judged for who I am as human being, not as someone conforming to a lie.

Sad

BarbieLee's picture

Yes, damaged goods. Insecure, unable to accept help of any kind. Sadly, in truth, so many have built a wall around themselves hiding, afraid of the world. They pull in tighter and build the walls higher if they think anyone might have noticed they are stepping outside the social construct.
A cowered dies a thousand deaths, a hero only one. It applies to transgendered and cross dressers only too well. Yet, in life or fiction I have never heard or read of a female being afraid if someone might think of her as being abnormal if she wore her brother's clothes or she was in the men's department trying on clothes. And yes, if one lives long enough they will eventually see a female in the men's department trying on clothes. Yours truly was in the women's department late yesterday evening shopping through the closeouts in bathing suits and skirts. FYI, both items on sale now.
Sam, I'll never be 36,21,36 again in what is left of this life. Of course there was silicone in use but no corset. Sigh, an hourglass figure along with beauty comes in such a short time of years in one's life unless one is one of the exceptional women who seem ageless. I only hope by example, others will stop being afraid of being true to themselves. I know there are places and times it is more than dangerous to be outside the social construct society defines as normal. I understand if I wasn't allowed to defend myself my life would be different. I lived through one of those hellacious wars. Living on a farm I'm a shepherd and defend my livestock every month more or less. No one can be me, I'm unique. But so is every other person on this screwed up planet.
Hugs Sam, this was very well written and dark. What's going on in life, sugar?
Barb
Life is meant to be lived. We only have one go at this one, don't waste it wishing.

Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl

Damaged goods

I enjoy the writing in this story but it leaves me wondering what they have in common? Will we ever find out? There was an oft repeated saying in a series I was fond of that pain shared is pain halved. It seems Mercedes was looking for sharing or maybe a sense of comunity, if there is ever developed a determination of what they share I would like to read that story.

Time is the longest distance to your destination.

It's A Start

Do I sense that this is the start of something?

Our protagonist friend seems awfully thick! When will he twig to what people are struggling to tell him?

Struggling?

They are trying to be mysterious about it. They failed to be open and honest from the beginning. Not much struggling there! Since they blew it from the beginning, starting with Erica's delivery of the package, why should he expect anything better given his previous experiences?

Damaged people are dangerous
They know they can survive

Struggling? - Add

I would suspect that Erica's actions would contravene a couple of postal regulations. She's lucky he hasn't decided to file a complaint. She could get a suspension or outright termination I imagine.

Friends? I hardly think so!

Damaged people are dangerous
They know they can survive

A dark tale that needs to told

A dark tale, but quite realistic. I am sure it will resonate with many readers. It has, so far, a sad ending but at least it isn't doesn't end in tragedy. You could move the story forward, but at the risk of destroying the tone you have set here. It would be interesting to see how Frank overcomes his paranoiac fear with perhaps the help of his new friends. But as it is so deep seated, I would not think he would be able to do so completely and his femme self would likely remain in the shadows..

self sabotage

boy, do I see myself in the protagonist here. so convinced I am "damaged goods" I turn away from everybody

DogSig.png

Self-Fulfilling

joannebarbarella's picture

Frank is making things worse.

POV

From his POV that's the only direction things can go. With Erica and Mercedes trying to do the meet cute thing instead of being up front with him, just reinforces the impression he has in his mind. I'd think the same way myself. I personally expect very little from my fellow H. Sapiens, certainly nothing good, and very, very seldom am I wrong.

Damaged people are dangerous
They know they can survive