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Made in Taiwan 24
🕑 Added 2021-10-08 16:24:00 +0000 UTCDay 134
With the hum of the small motor ringing in my ears, I whizzed through the city streets before stopping at a red light. It was now January. Christmas and New year had passed by without fanfare, not that I cared, I had been in no mood to celebrate.
The weeks that followed waking up on that awful day, where Simona had delivered the news to me were all a bit of a blur. Thinking back now, I’m not sure how I got through them without snapping and having a breakdown. I guess I just shut down and became a zombie. I barely ate or slept. I even gave up writing in my journal. In fact, I’m not sure what possessed me to start up again. Perhaps it was the loneliness, or maybe I just needed somewhere to vent my feelings.
As the light changed to green, I revved the engine and shot off across the intersection. The wind blowing through my long dark hair, and the cold air making me wish I’d brought a coat out that morning as it chilled me to the bone in my short pink work dress.
(See image 33)
Having just finished another awful day shift in the Betel nut stand, all I wanted to do was go home, kick off my painful shoes, and rest. But that evening, I wasn’t headed home. That evening I had somewhere to be, and I was nervous.
Beeping my horn angrily at a taxi driver who had just pulled out in front of me without looking. I imagined Simona face behind the wheel. Her smug, smirking face, and wanted to claw her eyes out.
Anger was perhaps the only emotion I felt these days, especially towards Simona. Not only had she mutilated my body, but she was also hell-bent on forcing me to continue with our lie.
Reading this, perhaps you think I'm an idiot for not fighting back. Perhaps you're stronger and smarter than me. Perhaps you could have found a way out. But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn't see one. You see, a pair of wobbly hooters attached to my chest wasn't Simona’s only surprise waiting for me upon waking.
Firstly, she had moved out and into my old apartment. I remember listening to her explain her reasons for this, aghast. "This is for the best", she had said, “Jerome is back from his trip. What will he think if Grant just disappears"?
It was a clever move on her part, taking away my only safe haven, and stopping accessing my stuff. All my male clothes, passport, and phone were now in her possession. She even had my credit card, which I later learned, she had used my purchase my new breasts.
The next surprise was perhaps the most shocking, which I discovered not long after waking up. Needed to relieve my bladder, Simona brought over a bedpan. I won’t go into the details of how I used it. Let’s just say it wasn’t very dignified. But dignity was the last thing on my mind when I looked down between my legs. For a moment, I thought I was high because what I saw just wasn’t possible. My penis was gone and in its place sat a hairless vagina.
With shaking hands, I reached down to examine it. Feeling numb to the touch, I let out a massive sigh of relief, realising it was fake. But my relief was short-lived as I quickly discovered, fake or not, It had been glued on tight.
Simona chuckled, seeing me touch it. "It will help you feel more like a woman", she announced. "now, you don't have to worry about any bulges showing down there. That thing is state of the art. Everything is tucked away safely, meaning you can pee like any other woman. if you need to clean your junk, there's a guide online. I even rea, you can have sex".
Hearing her speech, I instantly felt sick and realised this was her way of keeping me under her control. The prosthetic vagina would need a special solution to remove, and Simona was, of course, the only one who knew what it was.
To this day, I still haven’t adjusted to the empty tight feeling between my legs. Even now, the vibrations of the scooter make me feel funny inside. A constant reminder of what I've lost.
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Pulling up outside a building, I stepped down from the scooter and opened the seat to retrieve my handbag. Taking out Simona’s phone (mine now after we had swapped), I checked the address once more.
I was in the right place, but I didn't really want to go inside. You see that day was going to be my modelling debut. Now that I had a little more cleavage to flaunt, Simona had forced me to give Eric a call. He seemed very happy to hear from me, and after asking how I was feeling, he easily found me some work. He didn't go into details about the shoot, only telling me it was fully clothed, and that if the pictures were selected, they were going to be used to promote some comic book event that was coming up. To be honest, I didn’t really care, I just wanted to get through it and go home.
Suddenly feeling as though I wasn't alone, I looked up and jumped, seeing an old man staring at me with lust in his eyes. Quickly closing the scooter seat, I threw the phone back in my bag and tottered off towards the entrance.
It was warm inside, and it felt nice. Seeing a receptionist behind the front desk, I took a deep breath and trotted over. She wasn't a very friendly person, but at least she spoke good enough English for me to get my point across.
That brief conversation with the receptionist was the last time that day that anyone spoke to me in English. I was now stuck in a place, I didn’t want to be, doing something I didn’t want to do, it wasn’t much fun. But as I was led towards the changing rooms, I decided to just do the best I could. Reasoning, that if I followed all their directions without complaint, I’d be out of there much sooner.
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I learnt that day that modelling is more tiring than it looks. From when I arrived, to them starting to take pictures, took hours in itself.
First, I stripped down and measured for my costume. Where my newly enhanced feminine body did help to disguise my true identity, not that I ever told Simona that though.
When they were satisfied, I was given a robe to wear and shown over to the makeup station while they made the necessary alterations to my costume.
The makeup was the slowest part. The woman doing it was very organised and methodical as she worked. She spend what seemed like an eternity mixing colours. Trying to find the perfect shade to match my character's skin tone, which she kept checking in a photograph.
De-robed, I got my first experience of a spray tan, or spray foundation, as the woman sprayed me all over in a very pale colour. She then went to work on my face. Taking a lot of care around my eyes. Which to this day, I still find it funny as nobody ever got to see them! You see, the character I was portraying, from some computer game I’d never heard of. Somehow managed to fight robots or something, not only in stilt-like heels, and a tiny skirt, but also wearing a blindfold.
(See image 34)
