The Sissy Project

As I storm into the library, my heels clicking as I enter, I spot my “team” for our class project and make my way over. They turn and wave me over as soon as they hear the clicking coming down the hall, and I just roll my eyes. “Hi Ellie!” Sasha says as she cheerily waves. She gets up and hugs me, and I hug her back. As much as I hate this situation, it’s hard to be mad at Sasha. She’s too nice and cheery, like, all the time. It’d be almost sickening if it wasn’t comforting. And it’s not her fault I’m like this. “You know I don’t like that name, Sasha,” I mumble. “Would you prefer Elizabeth?” She asks teasingly. I just roll my eyes again and don’t respond. I set my back down and have to untangle this sweater from the straps. “Why do I have this sweater wrapped around my neck like this if I’m not gunna wear it? It’s spring, for fuck’s sake.” “Because,” Angela, the third and final member of our project, begins with a glare, “it’s fashion. Ya know, the whole point of the class you took cause you thought it’d be easy? Like we’re just some kids playing dress-up.” I glare back at Angela in response, but break with a sigh as I get out my notes and my laptop. It’s not her fault either. She’s right. I stupidly thought that a fashion class would be an easy A to get me the random elective credit I needed for my degree, and I’d be out the door. Turns out fashion doesn’t come easy. Especially not for a normal, if petite, man like me who mostly just rocks graphic T’s and sweats.

When I signed up for the fashion studies class, I figured it would be a walk in the park. I mean, it’s just clothes, right? I wear clothes every day, how hard could it be? Turns out, very. I didn’t know a damn thing. I still don’t know how many types of tops there are. It’s insane! And it didn’t help that almost everyone, Professor included, thought I was just there because the rest of the class was almost all women. Which, like, I certainly wasn’t complaining, but is totally not the reason. And Angela especially didn’t like my being there, even more so when her best friend, Sasha, welcomed me with open arms. I think that’s why she picked me for this project. It was a fashion show. Each team of three had to design, style, and arrange 5 different outfits, and one of them would need to model them. Unfortunately for me, my obvious lack of knowledge and any modicum of fashion sense left me designated as the model. And since the only two people willing, if not outright eager, to partner with me were Ellie and Sasha, two girls who really only know women’s fashion, that limited the clothing options, much to my dismay.

After the first day we met to work on the project, where I showed up as my normal self, they put me in a dress that I looked ridiculous in, and strutted across their living room like a newborn giraffe thanks to the heels, they decided I needed to make a few changes. Namely, I was no longer allowed to be Eli until after the project was over. I was to be transformed into and maintain my image as Ellie, the new name they gave me to go along with the semi-permanent hair extensions, plucked eyebrows, and breastforms. I was reluctant at first, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Unless I wanted us to all fail, which I didn’t. And, after they put the makeup on me, I have to admit, I looked real good. Like, to the point that I had to excuse myself to readjust these special “gaff” panties they gave me. And maybe sneak a few photos for… later. All that being said, I will admit, I wasn’t taking to being Ellie all that well. The smoothness of my hairless body was foreign and off-putting, if oddly enjoyable. The mandatory heels killed my feet and legs, but hey, I did learn real quick after the countless falls in the beginning. And the make-up each morning was so tedious, but at least I can do it in one try now instead of seven or eight. But the worst thing was all the attention.

“What’s wrong?” Sasha asked as I unpack haphazardly. “What do you mean?” I reply, distracted. She reaches over and grabs my hand comfortingly. “You just seem, I dunno, off. Did something happen on the way over?” I sigh. She may not seem it at first, but Sasha is damn perceptive. “I-It’s fine,” I stutter in response. “Just, s-some guy hitting on me as I walked across campus. He wouldn’t leave me alone.” Sasha squeezes my hand lightly and chuckles softly. “Yea, that’ll happen. Life of a hot girl, am I right?” I yank my hand away angrily and turn to her, tears in my eyes as I stare at her just as angrily. “That’s just it, Sasha!” I whisper-yell, too afraid of making a scene to really yell. “I’m not a girl, am I? I’m a fucking guy, god damn it! Why do I still need to do all this? I’ve learned how to walk in heels, do my make-up, style my hair, all of it! So why!?” She just stares at me for a moment. Then, tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” she replies, her voice soft, barely a whisper. I sigh. “No, Sasha, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t snap at you. It’s just… this,” I gesture across my body from head to toe, “is all new and weird to me. And you’ve been nothing but kind to me.” She sniffles and lunges forward to pull me into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Eli,” Sasha says, my real name sounding foreign in her voice after weeks of being called Ellie. “You can stop dressing like this if you want. We never meant to make you think you had to stay a girl. We planned on telling you you could change back, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. Hell, you even started talking in a surprisingly convincing girl voice, which we never told you to do.” I look at her, shocked. I guess I might have been enjoying it more than I let myself realize. “I mean,” I start, “it hasn’t been too bad, I guess. Except for the guys. That’s, like, totally gross.” Angela laughs, “Do you realize how girly that sounds? Plus, you’ve been learning a lot about fashion now that you experience it from the front row, so to speak. I mean, look at that outfit you put together- your hands down adorable in it.” I feel myself blush as I respond, “R-really, you think? I just thought about everything you guys have said over the last few weeks and, I dunno, just put something together.” “Well, it worked? You are killing it,” Sasha said as she hugged me again. “But, if you want, you can go back to being Eli. I mean, the hair stays, but you can just throw it into a man bun if you want.” I pull back from the hug and look between her and Angela. Then I look down shyly as I say, “I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stay Ellie for a little bit. At least until the fashion show is over.” Sasha squeals excitedly as she hugs me again, and Angela just chuckles under her breath. Something tells me Ellie may last a little longer than the fashion show.