An Angel's Job

An Angels job
An Angels Job
December 2021 Christmas Holidays Story Contest Entry

An Angel’s Job
by Tiffany B. Quinn

Note: To those of you who have trouble with religious ideas in this genre, I suggest that you skip this story. When I think of Christmas, I cannot help but think of its religious foundations. It is from these thoughts, that this story has sprung.

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Young Terry's unsympathetic siblings make his life a living hell when they discover his secret. There appears to be only one way out until divine providence steps in to prompt a different ending.

-----------<Christmas Eve>-----------

Whoever says that God doesn’t interfere in man’s concerns is misinformed.

I should know.

I’ve been doing God’s bidding for millennia. As one of the lesser messengers, it is my job to facilitate small miracles every day to bless the lives of individuals currently on earth. Most of what I do is never noticed, but all of it is under strict instructions from God.

It may be simply suggesting that a person step to the left vs the right, thus avoiding a fatal accident, or prompting someone to reach out to a stranger in need. Sometimes, it is to provide a feeling of comfort in a difficult situation, giving the individual the strength they need to rise above their current difficulties.

In every case, any change that takes place must be chosen by the people whose decision it is. We never interfere with anyone's freedom of choice, which often leads to misunderstandings resulting in statements such as: "How can God allow this bad thing to happen?" Bad things, and good things, resulting from a person's choice happen because the person making the choice exercised their freedom to choose, often not realizing, or knowingly not caring for, what consequences will follow for other people. A person's choice, however, almost always impacts others. When it is bad, I can offer comfort and encouragement to the victims. When it is good, then we can all rejoice together. When someone is about to make a bad choice, often with a very negative consequences for others, all I can do is prompt the decision maker with a new, good choice, hoping that they will listen. Self centered people rarely listen.

For example, as you will see, I can't stop bullying because it would take away the bully's divine right to choose. But there are things that I can do to help the victim.

Occasionally, we can alter the physical world. These events are what most people call miracles. The reality altering miracles are pretty rare, but I love to make them happen when the opportunity arises. Normally, however, people don’t usually even notice what I’ve done. I’m okay with that.

I get really excited around Christmas because I frequently get assignments like the one that I have now. It has been an open secret in the business that God is more benevolent during this time of year. He keeps us very busy, but it is usually very satisfying.

Today is Christmas Eve and I get to bless someone’s life by taking away an impediment to their success. This particular individual has great potential for good, but their current situation is putting that in jeopardy. My job is to make some adjustments to allow them to progress.

God, I hope that it works.

-----------<June, Six Months Earlier>-----------

“Pervert”, Jim says in disgust as he knocks me down. “Wait until Mom and Dad hear about this.”

“You’re not wearing my underwear, are you Terry?” Sally asks with similar disgust.

My older brother and sister just came home, unexpectedly, to find me dressed in feminine clothes. I am wearing a short sundress, a bra with B cup breast forms and matching panties. I also have on panty hose and platform shoes with a three-inch heel. My long hair is pulled back in a braid. I had been getting ready to apply some eye makeup when they showed up in my room. My necklace and matching clip-on earrings are laying on my bed. These are all clothes that I’d gathered over the past year. I stopped sneaking clothes from Sally and Mom once I’d managed to get some of my own.

Our parents are out of town and my big brother and sister are supposed to be spending the day at the beach with friends. It turns out, that the surf is poor today and they and their friends decided to go the big amusement park instead. They swung by the house to change and to invite me to join them. I have been so wrapped up in my transformation and listening to Taylor Swift songs that I didn’t hear them come home.

This is not good.

I have never gotten along very well with my older siblings. Jim is an all-American boy and Sally tries hard to be a teen sex symbol—and she almost succeeds. I, on the other hand, am more of a loner and a geek. I am better than either of them at academics but have few friends. I can’t afford to have friends.

As they just discovered, I have a deep dark secret that I have, up until now, kept pretty much hidden from the world. At fifteen years of age, I am suffering from the idea that I was probably born the wrong gender. Unfortunately for me, I am developing into a perfect specimen of a male teenager. My voice is deepening, I recently started to shave, my shoulders and muscles have started to fill out, and I recently passed six feet in height. I should be on the football team. I look ridiculous in a dress, but it feels so right.

Living in Southern California, you’d think that I could be a bit more open about gender issues, but that’s not particularly true with our family. Our family staunchly believes in “conservative” values. They say that men are men and women are women and there is no crossing between the genders and that a true family relationship involves a husband and a wife. I have to admit that I generally agree with the concept except I’ve always known that wouldn’t work with me. I am wired different. I have always hated what I am.

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad!” I beg. “They’ll kill me!”

“I doubt that” Sally observes, “but you’ll probably wish they had.”

An evil grin shows on Jim’s face, “What’s it worth to you, faggot?”

Sally looks at Jim then a similar grin spreads across her face.

“Yes, Pervert,” Sally agrees with Jim, “I bet we can negotiate a deal.”

So that’s what we do. It isn’t much of a negotiation, as they hold all the cards.

They never even ask me why or how I came to be in a dress.

God, why is this happening to me?


What a hell the summer has been.

Every dirty job that had to be done around the house; I have had to do. Jim and Sally threatened to tell their friends as well as our parents if I resisted. I had no choice but to do anything they demanded.

They demanded a lot.

One day, Sally brought home a French maid’s outfit and they made me wear it and be their personal servant whenever our parents weren’t around. While I have enjoyed feminine clothes, the maid’s uniform was humiliating, as my siblings intended it to be. I was made to clean the house and serve my siblings while they hung out and watched TV when our parents weren’t at home. My brother even had the audacity to pinch my bum whenever he got the chance. Sally just laughed.

Our parents began to notice my slide into depression but there was nothing I could tell them. They had the good sense to be concerned but every time they asked what was wrong, one or the other of my siblings would glare knowingly at me.

I am really looking forward to school starting up again. This will be my first year of high school, which should be miserable enough, but it can’t be as bad as being a slave to my siblings at home. Maybe I can get away from my tormentors for at least part of the day.

God, I wish this would end!


It is the Thanksgiving holiday and my recently released midterm grades have revealed serious problems. I had always been near the top of my class, but this year I am near the bottom. I have been unable to get relief from the torment of my ‘owners’. Now that we are all in the same school, they have found uses for me at school as well as at home.

I am thoroughly miserable and can’t see a way out. I have become a slave to my siblings. I’ve tried talking to them about letting up, but they just laugh before adding to my burden.

My parents are very worried about me and want me to see a counselor, but I tell them that there is nothing to worry about. I can tell that they don’t believe me.

God, I just want all of this to end!

-----------<Christmas Eve, 10 PM>-----------

Just my luck, but how appropriate, I think to myself. It is cold and lightly raining.

This evening we had our traditional family dinner. There were about twenty guests from our extended family. It can be lots of fun as Christmas Eve is about the only time that I get to see some of my cousins. The house was crowded during the party, and everyone seemed to have a good time. I usually enjoy the gathering, but my misery is now a permanent part of my life.

I have to admit that even Sally and Jim let up on me, until it came to cleanup time. Sally took me aside at one point and partially apologized saying that she wouldn’t be so demanding in the future. I don’t really believe her.

Not that it matters. This will all be ending tonight.

God, I can’t take it anymore.

It’s only an hour’s walk from our house to the Pier on the beach. I have just slipped out of the house as everyone is finishing cleaning or getting ready for bed. I have my raincoat on and there’s a long red dress and a pair of matching pumps in my pack. I already have the appropriate lingerie on underneath my outer clothing. I am also wearing my favorite clip-on earrings and a beautiful necklace.

In my pocket are enough pills to keep a junkie high for a month. I bought them from one of my fellow students who is in the business of supplying the kids in school. I told him that I promised a group of junky friends that I would treat them to a real party. He just shrugged and sold me the pills. I plan to take them all at once before walking into the ocean.

As I walk down the street, I pass house after house decked out with Christmas lights. Everything is pretty and peaceful. I will miss Christmas. It is one of my favorite times of year.

God, help me see this through.

-----------<Christmas Eve, 10:30 PM>-----------

I am standing outside a church where people are starting to show up for a midnight service. I can’t remember the last time our family attended church. I am almost tempted to see what it is all about, but then I think that I will be finding out soon the reality of life after death. If what I hear is true, then my chosen method for entering the next life probably won’t get me a first-row seat in heaven. I feel an overwhelming sadness but am determined to see my plan through. I need to escape my tormenters.

Turning from the church, I continue on my way to the Pier.

God, I hope that this doesn’t hurt too much.

-----------<Christmas Eve, 11:00 PM>-----------

“Honey,” I ask my husband with worry in my voice, “Have you seen Terry around? He’s not in his room and the other kids haven’t seen him for a while.”

I have a dreadful feeling that something is terribly wrong. Terry has been steadily sinking into a depression since this past summer. No one will tell us why, but I get a sense that somehow, his older brother and sister are contributing to the problem. I just can’t prove it.

“He said that he was going to bed over an hour ago,” my husband responds with a worried tone in his voice.

The color suddenly drains from his face. I think I know why. I just had a brief vision Terry walking into the surf at the Pier, wearing a red dress.

“Oh my God!” he exclaims. “I just had a vision of Terry walking into the surf at the Pier. We need to get there ASAP.”

“He is wearing a red dress,” I confirm having the same vision and an overwhelming need to get to the Pier.

“I saw that too,” my husband confirmed.

We literally drop the dishes we are washing and run for the car. I try calling Terry’s cell phone without getting a response.

I next call the police. They don’t seem to believe me but say they’ll keep an eye out. “Sorry, ma’am, we are on short shift tonight and everyone is on a call.”

God, I hope that we’re in time!

-----------<Christmas Eve, 11:15 PM>-----------

I reached the Pier a short time ago and changed into the red dress while hiding among the piling under the Pier.

My parents must have found me missing as I received a call from mom about the time that I finished dressing. I just turned the phone off without answering it. There is no way that they can know where I am.

I folded my discarded clothes and neatly placed them in my backpack and take the pile of pills in my hand along with a bottle of water I had brought to wash them down.

I feel very calm as I prepare for my final act. Regardless, tears are streaming silently down my face.

Suddenly, I notice that I am not alone.

There is a girl about my same age huddled under the Pier seeking shelter from the rain. She looks very cold and miserable. I don’t know how I hadn’t seen her before. I’m sure that she wasn’t there when I arrived, yet she looked as if she’d been there a long time.

I dropped the pills in a pocket of my dress and grab my backpack before going over to see her.

“Is everything alright?” I ask her with great concern. “You look very cold.” The breeze off the water made the chilly evening even colder.

She just looks at me with pitiful eyes and sobs.

I pull my coat out of my pack and drape it around her frail shoulders. It is still warm from my own body heat.

Kneeling down in front of the girl I lift her chin to look into her amazing green eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” I gently ask her. She looks as if she hasn’t eaten in a long time and has bruises on her arms and face. I suspect that there are some bruises in places that I can’t see. This girl looks as if she’s been treated poorly for a long time.

“Should I call for help?” I ask when she doesn’t respond.

“What does it matter?” she asks softly. “It looks like you could use some help too. It looks to me as if you are about to do something drastic. What are those pills in your pocket? Why aren’t you wearing your coat?”

I look sadly at this poor waif, wishing that there was something I could do for her. Unfortunately, I realize that I better get on with my plan before my parents figure out where I am.

Instead, I break into sobs.

The girl pulls me down beside her and wraps her arm around me.

“You must either play basketball or volleyball,” the girl chuckles, “You, girl, are one tall drink of water. I bet you’d be a terror on a girl’s hockey team. Now what can be so bad that you are about end it all?”

My sobs subside into hiccups. The girl’s hug feels strangely comforting and I open up to her.

I tell her about being blackmailed and bullied by my siblings, about how I am actually a boy who desperately feels out of place. I tell her of my fear of my parents and what their reaction will be if they ever find out that I am not normal. I complain that God had made a mistake at my birth. She listens kindly as everything within me comes out.

“What would need to happen,” she asks, “for you to give up your plan to end it all?”

“The bullying would need to end,” I reply after a moment’s thought, “and my parents would need to be accepting of me as their daughter, to the extent possible with the aid of modern medicine.”

“Would you want to exact revenge on Jim & Sally?” she asks.

“No,” I tell her after briefly contemplating her question, vaguely noticing that she knows my sibling’s names even though I haven’t mentioned any names, “I just want them to become nicer people.”

“What would you say if God could make this all right?” she asks.

I give a sad laugh. “If there is a God out there, then all this happened because he made a mistake at my birth. I should have been born a girl.”

She smiles and says, “In my experience, God doesn’t make mistakes. However, we don’t always know why he does what he does.”

She continues, “What do you think your parents will feel if you follow through on your plan?”

“They will be upset, I suppose.” I reply.

“I bet that’s an understatement,” she says.

“When they find me in girl’s clothes, they’ll figure that it would be better to be rid of the abomination.” I say bitterly.

“Somehow, I don’t think so,” the girl reassures me.

“How would you know?” I challenge her, “You don’t look as if you’ve fared well yourself.”

“These,” she said raising her arms to show her bruises, “did not come from my parents. True parents love their children and do their best to keep them from harm. Have your parents ever harmed you?”

“No,” I admit. “But I know what they think of deviants.”

“Maybe they’ll reconsider their views after you pour out your heart to them as you have to me,” she encourages me.

I snort, “Somehow I doubt it.”

Suddenly I hear my mother frantically calling out my name. Then I hear my father calling with concern in his voice.

“It looks as if you have a chance to talk to them about it,” she smiles. “Just pour out your heart to them like you did to me, Terri. I’m pretty sure that God has a lot more for you to do in this life.”

I stand up quickly looking for someplace to hide.

Suddenly my mom appears out of nowhere and encircles me in a bear hug, the likes of which I have never experienced before. Dad is right behind her and hugs the two of us closely. Both of them are sobbing with relief. I don’t think they’ve noticed how I am dressed.

“Terry,” Mom sobbed. “You have given us the scare of our life.”

“Terry, Honey,” Dad adds. Did he just call me ‘Honey’? “How have we failed you? Please talk to us, we can work this out.”

I look over my mother’s head for the girl, but she is gone. My coat is neatly folded and laying on top of my backpack. The only footprints in the sand around the backpack are my own.

God, what is happening?

-----------<Christmas Eve, 11:55 PM>-----------

While it is shelter from the light rain, it is still cold under the Pier. Regardless, I feel an inner warmth of peace that I don’t remember ever having. That inner peace plus the warmth of my parent hugs is keeping me from being chilled.

My parents still love me even after finding out my secret.

They don’t understand it, and it is clear to me that they are struggling to accept it.

For the last twenty minutes they’ve let me pour out my heart to them. I told them of my struggle to resolve my physical self with who I thought I should be. I told them of my fear of being found out when I started to cross dress. I told them of being caught dressed as a girl by my siblings and the subsequent slavery. I told them how I feared that my treatment would get even worse if word got out. I told them how I felt trapped with only one way out.

Mom found the pills in my dress pocket and gave them to my dad. He released us briefly to throw the pills into the ocean. Then he came back to join the group hug.

I am really just getting started telling my story when I feel an overwhelming tiredness. Mom, still attached to me like a limpet, notices.

“Sweetheart,” she says. “Let’s get you home. We can continue this in the morning. Just know that we love you. We will work this out no matter what it takes.”

“Yeah,” mutters my dad, “but I am starting to rethink my affection for you brother and sister.”

I give him a squeeze and weakly smile, “I forgive them. Please go easy on them.” I don’t know where that came from. I suddenly have an epiphany: I’ve never really hated them for what they did to me. Maybe I felt that I deserved it. I don’t know.

“We’ll see,” mom says with a little hardness in her voice.

She smiles then says, “We’ll spruce up your wardrobe in the after Christmas sales. That dress really doesn’t suit you. We can do better.”

Maybe there is acceptance?

When we get to the car, Mom climbs in the back seat with me and continues to hold me. She hasn’t lost physical contact with me since she latched on to me under the Pier. I get the sense that she’s not going to let me out of her sight for a while.

God, it feels good to be loved.

-----------<Christmas Day, 8:00 AM>-----------

I slowly awaken, feeling well rested. There is also an arm around me and another body spooned behind me. I don’t remember the drive home last night or getting into bed.

“How are you feeling this morning, Sweetheart?” comes my mom’s tired voice from behind me.

“Like I need to use the bathroom,” I respond in a voice that I don’t quite recognize.

“Be sure to sit,” she says with a smile in her voice, “There have been a few changes in the night.”

The need to urinate is becoming urgent so I hop out of bed and head into the hall to find the kid’s shared bathroom. Mom is close behind.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” she tells me as I close the door in her face.

I may not be fully awake, but I notice that things are not the same.

For one, I am wearing a nightgown that’s a little too small for me.

Next, I notice that my chest is bouncing around as if I have a couple of bean bags hanging off my chest.

I don’t have time to dwell on these anomalies.

I have more pressing matters.

Taking mom’s advice, I raise the night gown to find myself naked underneath and quickly sit down. I reach down to direct the flow as I have always done, but there is nothing there to direct.

I can’t hold it any longer and I just relax and let things happen. As I sigh with relief my brain kicks in and makes an amazing realization.

“I’m a girl!” I squeal in delight.

Oh God, I’ve received the greatest Christmas present ever!

-----------<Christmas Day, 8:30 AM>-----------

I watch with a smile.

I love Christmas assignments. For the past half hour, I have watched Terri revel in her new self and new world. I have watched her glow as she shared her joy with her astonished family. She is chattering almost non-stop and, every once in a while, she gives a twirl and squeal of delight. She is now pouring over the fliers for the after Christmas sales with her mother and sister. I am sure that they will be spending a lot of money tomorrow.

There is still a long road ahead of her. No one gets a trouble-free life. She’ll still have to sort out her change in identity, but with a couple of family law lawyers for parents, they should be able to figure some way to deal with that problem. She will still need to face the public that only knew her as a boy (there is likely to be some issues with those that are intolerant and who won’t believe her story.) She’ll also have the same insecurities, challenges, and joys that all women experience, but she will no longer be held back by her old deep dark secret.

If they don’t change their ways, her siblings will have a very difficult future. I think that there might be hope for them. Only time will tell.

This job is worth playing the abused waif. Still, it seemed to take forever to get the sand out my clothes.

God, I love my job!

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