Taylor Galen Kadee
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Now I Tell Dumb Me Jokes (Originally on Amazon)
🕑 Added 2024-12-02 05:00:05 +0000 UTC
Now I Tell Dumb Me Jokes
T.G. Cooper
Chapter One
"And that's why I don't eat baklava!" Pete Walker looked around at the audience, which just stared back at him. "...because I thought baklava was a Turkish form of .... never mind. Thanks. You've been great." Pete put the microphone back on the stand and shook the hand of the MC as he left the stage, hurrying out of the spotlight and to the booth at the back of the room where the other comedians sat waiting for their spots.
"Tough crowd," Fiona Walls said, slapping Pete on the back as he slumped into his seat.
"Comedy is hard," Pete answered, shaking his head.
"That's what she said!" Joey Persnikity said, slapping the table with both of his hands. "By the way, did I mention I nicknamed my penis, Comedy? Hahaha!"
The other comedian groaned.
"Give it a rest," Fiona said.
"You know what they call an unfunny comedian?" Joey said, looking around. "Female! Hahahaha!"
"So, when is your sex-change?" Rufus Brown said. "Cause you the unfunniest comedian I ever met."
"Yeah, right," Joey said. "You're all just jealous. I got a retweet the other day from Andrew Dice Clay. He said, you remind me of me, asshole. So, try and tell me I'm not funny. I'm just so edgy people get uncomfortable."
Fiona smiled, fingering the Hecate locket she wore on a chain around her neck. Joey was about to find all about feeling uncomfortable.
"And let's have a big round of applause for this next comic. He's been called a mix between Carrot Top and Andrew Dice Clay, Joey Persnikity!"
"Watch and learn, losers!" Joey swaggered to the stage. The MC reached out to shake his hand, and he just turned to the audience and said, "Like I'm going to shake the hand of a man I saw fingering himself before the show! See ya later, shit fingers!"
A table of drunk frat guys that had been half asleep started laughing.
"Everyone make sure to take good care of our waitress, Kelly. I mean, I already took good care of her before the show, but you guys tip her even though she’s a stupid slut!"
The frat boys shouted and laughed. The rest of the audience looked around uncomfortably.
"A guy once came in here and asked Kelly for service. She lay down on the floor and spread her legs! Hahaha!" The frat boys laughed.
"Hickory dickory dock," Joey went on. "I'm a dude, so I don't suck cock! Hahaha!"
A table full of women stood up and started to put on their coats.
"Where the hell are you going?" Joey asked.
"We don't support sexist or homophobic humor."
"Slut!" One of the frat boys yelled. "Fuck you!"
"Hey, hey. I got this. I got this," Joey said. "I sincerely apologize. Would it make you feel better if I stuck my dick in you? Haha-- suddenly there was a break in his voice, and the rest of the laughter came out in a high-pitched squeak-- "ha?"
Joey stopped. Cleared his throat. "Weird," he said, but his voice stayed in a squeaky, high-pitched range like a blonde bimbo. He giggled, his eyes going wide with shock. "Are you ladies feminists?"
"Yes," the woman said, pausing now, curious. The room had gone quiet.
"I thought so." Joey took a sip of water. Squeaked again. Shook his head and plunged on. "I came in, took one look at your table and thought-- those women probably love equality the way I love cock!" Joey's face twisted in horror as he thought about what he'd just said, and the crowd burst into laughter.
"What the hell?" Rufus said in the back of the room.
Pete shrugged. "Beats me."
"I'm recording this," Fiona said, her phone in hand.
"One time," Joey said, "a man asked me if I was an independent woman. I turned to my boyfriend and said, what do you think?" He giggled and tilted his head to the side.
Joey now had a big, vacant smile on his face, and he was twisting the microphone chord around his wrist while standing with a hip thrown out to the side. But his eyes were still full of anger and confusion. "My boyfriend told me I should read the labels on food before I buy it, and then I was, like, omigod, who has time to learn how to read?"
"You suck!" One of the frat boys yelled, but the rest of the crowd told him to shut up, and the table of women all sat down. The bouncer headed over toward the table of frat boys.
"Did he just say that I suck? I mean, I think everyone in the room knows that about me!" And then he started to simulate oral sex with the microphone. Giggle. "The other day my boyfriend told me I had the attention span of a hamster. I said, what does attention have to do with—what were we talking about?" Giggle.
Joey was sweating now, mortified, the crowd was laughing, jeering. He felt faint from the heat, and putting the microphone back in the stand, he reached down and pulled off his sweatshirt. The crowd gasped, and Joey looked down to see he had breasts-- firm, full, female breasts swaying on his chest. "Eeek!" He said, throwing his arms over his breasts and running from the stage.
"What the fuck just happened?" Pete said.
"Beats the hell out of me," Rufus answered.
Fiona smirked. "I don't know what just happened, but I know what's about to happen."
"What's that?"
She smiled into her phone. "Joey is about to go viral."
Joey ran to the bathroom, plunged into a stall and stared down at his breasts. "What the hell?" His voice was still... wrong. A little girl's voice. He reached down past his breasts, unzipped his pants, and sighed with relief to find he was still a man. He couldn't see his manhood over his rack, but he could feel it. He pulled his sweatshirt on and got out of the stall, paused to look in the mirror, to see the way his sweatshirt tented out now, pushed out by his breasts, kind of stretching out the logo of his New York Liberty sweat...
"New York Liberty?" That was the women's NBA team. He had never rooted for them. He was a Knicks fan, had worn a Knicks Jersey to the show. He was sure. He was a dude. He splashed cold water in his face. This must be some kind of bad trip, he decided. Someone maybe slipped me some drugs. Or... something. Get home, he decided. Get home. He pushed out the door, wove his way through the bar. Fiona was on stage, and the crowd was roaring, and that made him feel even more sick to his stomach.
"Good set, Candice," Kelly, the slut waitress said as he stepped onto the chilly, October streets of New York City.
"Fuck you," he murmured, crossing his arms over his chest and hunkering over, partly against the wind, partly to hide his breasts, as he could feel his nipples hardening in reaction to the cold. He was halfway down the block when he suddenly stopped and said, "Oh no!" In his little voice, suddenly filled with panic at the realization that he'd forgotten his purse. "My keys!" But even as he turned and started back toward the bar, he shook his head, slapping his jeans pocket and feeling his keys. Purse?
Just get home, he thought again. Just get home and then you can lock yourself in and take a nice, long, bubble bath. The whole way home, he replayed the performance in his mind, the weight of his breasts squeezed between his arms a constant reminder that it had all been real, and when he finally got home, he slammed the door, locked it and immediately grabbed a bottle of dark rum from his little bar, and stormed into his bathroom, eager to just turn on the hot water, climb into the tub and just... he stared down at the tub, twisting the cap off the bottle of rum and taking a swig, the tears finally flowing down his cheeks. He didn't realize if it was because he suddenly realized he'd been obsessed with taking a bubble bath, or because he couldn't because he didn't have any soap to make bubbles, and confused and tired, he sank down on the toilet seat, sipped rum and cried.
Chapter Two
Buzzing. Buzzing. What was that? Joey was curled up on his bed, his head pounding from all the drinking, his eyes closed. He wanted to just drift back to sleep, to sleep until the pain went away. But his phone was buzzing like crazy. He rolled onto his back and felt his breasts sway and bounce, and looking down he saw them, and the strange memories from the night before came back to him. Are these things real? He put his hands on his breasts, palms over his wide, pink nipples, and he felt his breasts from the inside and out, and the feeling confused and scared him. They felt real. Seemed real. What the hell had happened? He sat up, afraid to speak, to hear if he still sounded the way he'd sounded last night, but head in hands, staring down at his cleavage, he said, "Testing, testing..." and heard the same high-pitched, tiny little voice. He rubbed his face. "Fuck."
Wrapping his sheet around his quilt around his shoulders, he stumbled to the little den area he had and spotted his phone on the floor next to an empty rum bottle. The screen was flashing and the phone vibrating. He picked it up and squinted at the screen, but the messages were all blurry, so he looked around the apartment until he spotted his purse hanging from the door and reached in to retrieve his pink framed glasses. He lifted his left breast and scratched underneath while staring at the messages-- most of them were from his manager-- Officially viral! Hell, yes! 100,000 hits in the last hour! Mixed in were tweets:
From Sarah Silverman: Joey hits it big by saying out loud we we've always known: he's dumb. #truthincomedy Patton Oswalt tweeted: Joey's Comedy Special: The boob with the boobs.
More texts and tweets kept coming. It seemed impossible.
He got some water. Swayed uncertainly. Kept his feet. Drank some more, then sank down on his couch, finally clicking the link in his manager's latest text, and he watched as the screen switched to YouTube, and a video started playing. Him laughing in a weird boy's voice-- no, that was his real voice, and then his voice cracking. As he was talking, he could see his breasts swelling under his sweatshirt, the shirt turning into a Liberty sweatshirt, could see how he started to stand and move more like a woman. It all seemed impossible, even as he watched it, saw himself changing, heard himself making jokes about how dumb he was, and then pulling off his sweatshirt, showing his breasts to the whole club and now... 523,014 hits.
"What the hell is happening to me?" He said out loud, pulling his quilt around his shoulders, pulling his knees up to his chest and curling into a corner of his couch. "Omigod, what the hell is happening?"
***
Knocking. Knocking. Someone was pounding on his door. Joey just pulled the quilt over his head and pulled his knees closer to his chest. But then he heard his manager, Tony Mangino, call out, "Joey! Joey! Open up!"
Joey pulled the quilt from his head. "Shit," he whispered.
"I know you're in there!"
"Just a sec!" Joey called in his little voice, and then he hurried to his bedroom, breasts bouncing. The Liberty jersey was crumpled on the floor next to his bed. He yanked open his dresser shirt drawer and said, "what the fuck?" Inside were pink tank tops with VS sewn across the chest, thin sleeveless t-shirts with plunging collars. He opened the next drawer, and found a Yankees jersey, but it was white and pink and had the name Candice across the back. There was a grey sweatshirt, but across the chest it read Girl Strong and had a silhouette of a pony-tailed woman. He pulled open the top drawer to find lacey bras and underwear.
"Come on!" Tony shouted, pounding so loud Joey was worried he would knock the door right out of the frame.
The Liberty jersey looked like the most butch thing in his apartment, so he slipped it over his head, yanked it down over his breasts, and then hurried to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open, just enough to look out, "Tony, this isn't a good time..."
Tony pushed the door open and walked into the apartment, then put his hands on Joey's shoulders and turned him so they faced one another. Tony's eyes fell right to the swelling of Joey's breasts, straining against the fabric of his jersey. He put a hand on one. Squeezed. "Those things are real."
"Stop!" Joey said, squirming free.
"What the hell is going on, Joey? Do I still call you that?"
"Yes!" Joey said, crossing his arms over his breasts and sulking away. "And I don't know what the hell has happened to me!"
"You don't?" Tony said, looking over his client. "You expect me to believe that?"
"If you don't believe me," Joey said, annoyed at his squeaky little voice. "Just leave. Why did you come here?"
"Oh yeah. Well, whatever this is, it's working. They want you on Colbert."
"Colbert?" Joey turned, excited and mortified. "When?"
"Today. Why do you think I came over to this dump?"
"Today? I can't go on like this."
"They only want you because you're like this, buddy. So, put on some shoes and let's get going. They want you there ASAP for pre-interview and then hair and make-up."
They argued. Tony won. Joey wiggled into a pair of girl jeans, slipped on a pair of sparkly pink and white Ponys. He stuck with the Liberty Jersey. At the door, he grabbed his purse from the hook by the door and slipped it over his shoulder, then realized what he had just done and shook his head. "I don't carry a purse," he said, then giggled. "I don't even know where this came from."
"Just stop," Tony said, steering Joey toward the door. "You don't have to hide who you are anymore."
"I'm not hiding, I..."
But now Tony had steered him into the hall and taken his keys and locked his door before handing the keys back to Joey. "It's all over the web."
Joey tried to push the keys into the pocket of his jeans, but they were practically painted on, so he rolled his eyes and dropped them into his pink leather purse. He followed Tony downstairs and huddled by the wall of his building, his head down, while Tony hailed a cab. "Listen, Colbert is just the start. I got calls coming in from bookers all over the country that want you to perform, and other shows been calling as well. But, I do wanna say, ya shoulda told me you were gonna come out and all."
"I'm not coming out. I told you. I don't know what's happened."
"Then what about your website?"
"What do you mean?"
"The whole Caitlin Jenner thing on your website. Come on. Ya shoulda told me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Joey said, sinking into his seat. "Did someone change my website?"
Tony took out his phone and pulled up the page. "I'm starting to get concerned."
Joey looked at the page, his mouth dropping open in shock. There was a picture of him from the show, his arms crossed over his bare breasts, and at the top of the page a banner read, "I have always been a woman." The letters sparkled like pink glitter, and the banner site itself was now white and pink, with little bows in each corner.
"I didn't do this," Joey said. "I never posted any of this."
Tony stared at his client. Shook his head. "Do you think maybe you might have some sort of mental thing, that could..."
"I am not CRAZY!" Joey shrieked. "Don't call me CRAZY!"
"Okay. Okay. Calm down."
"Don't tell me to calm down!" Joey was breathing hard, his breasts heaving, and the feel of their soft weight rising and falling made him feel even more angry, so he started stomping his feet on the taxicab floor.
"Hey!" The cab driver said. "Hey!"
Tony took a deep breath, swallowed the urge to tell Joey he was acting hysterical, and not in the funny way. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry. You want me to call the Colbert people? Cancel this thing?"
Joey slit his eyes and huffed. "No. No, I do not. I am going to go on that show, and I am going to set the record straight!"
"Good..." Tony said, and barely kept himself from adding the word, girl. "Good..."
Chapter Three
"This isn't what I had in mind..." Joey said.
"Raise your arms," the wardrobe woman from Colbert said in a flat, disinterested tone.
"Well, I just..."
"Raise your arms."
Joey did, and stood biting his lip as the wardrobe woman wrapped a corset around his body, then stood behind him buttoning it up. "It's a little snug," Joey said, wiggling.
"Just wait," the woman said, and Joey realized what she meant when she started pulling the stays and the corset crushed his waist into a tiny little waspish circle while also pushing his soft breasts.
"I can... barely... breath..."
"You're the one who wanted to be a woman."
"I really didn't."
The woman slipped a wine-red dress off a rack and held it out. Joey stared at her like she was nuts. “You can’t be…” she said.
"Step into the dress, sir."
"A dress? I never..."
"Come on!" the woman brayed. "Stop messing around and put on the damn dress."
Joey wanted to argue, but she seemed so bossy, and he wanted to be on the show to tell everyone he didn't want to be a woman, so he stepped into the dress, and the woman slipped it up his body, fitting the little straps over his shoulders, zipping him up the back and then pushing his breasts together and adjusting the top. Joey had never worn a dress, and standing there now, the skirt swishing around his knees, the neckline plunging to show off the swell of his cleavage, he felt himself blushing. "Here," the woman said, handing him a pair of glittery red heels that matched his dress. "And I know. I know. You never and didn't, so just put 'em on so I can get you over to hair and make-up."
Joey slipped into his heels, then clicked his way over to the hair and make-up people, who promptly plopped a shimmering blonde wig on his head. Then, one styled his hair while another did his make-up. Joey just drifted off into a kind of fugue state, sitting still in his dress, his knees together, trying to figure out how in the hell all of this had happened. Well, it would be over soon. He would tell Colbert all about what a mix-up this whole thing was, and then he would get back to being Joey Persnikity, the dude comedian who hated political correctness as much as he hated bad hair days!
He found himself standing nervously off-stage, waiting to be called out. Someone handed him a white Pomeranian, and without thinking he trilled, "Omigod! You are so cute!"
The crowd laughed. Colbert did a double take. "Well, with that, let's bring out tonight's very special guest, Candace the Ditzy Blonde!"
Candace? Joey thought, frowning. Ditzy blonde? I thought I was next. He stood on the edge of the stage, wide eyed, clutching the little Pomeranian, looking around. The crowd was clapping, but no one was coming out. Joey didn't realize the backstage camera was on him, and the audience could see him looking around in confusion.
The applause died out and turned into laughter as Colbert mugged for the camera. "Candace? Come on out here!" He was looking right at Joey, who promptly looked behind himself, then turned back to Colbert and said, "I don't think Candace is here!"
"I would have to agree," Colbert said. "But get out here anyway!"
And now the stage manager was at Joey's side, gently pushing him out onto the stage, and he suddenly said, "Omigod! I am Candace!"
The audience roared, and Joey clicked over to the desk now, waving prettily toward the audience with his free hand. Colbert stood and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Once the audience settled down, Colbert folded his hands together, leaned over and in a stage whisper said, "About how many times per day do you forget your own name?"
The audience laughed again, and Joey sat there smiling vacantly. Once they finished, Joey giggled and said, "Could you repeat the question?"
More laughter. Colbert was actually red in the face, laughing himself, thinking it was all part of the act. "Do you think you might have Alzheimer's?"
"Is that this dog's name?"
Laughter.
"Stephen, I did have something I wanted to say," Joey said, smoothing his skirt, crossing his legs at the knees.
"Okay, but before we get to that, a commercial!"
The set went dark. Colbert patted Joey on the wrist. "Great job playing the dumb blonde."
"You, too!" Joey chirped. "Wait...."
Colbert just chuckled.
When the lights came back up, Colbert immediately got back to work. "So now, to talk about Candice's journey, one of her oldest friends and the one person she credits with turning her into the woman she is today.... Fiona Walls!"
Fiona? Joey's mouth fell open in surprise as Fiona walked out onto stage wearing a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt and a pair of work boots. She leaned down at gave Joey a kiss on his smooth cheek, shook hands with Colbert, then plopped down.
"So, Fiona. You helped Candice realize she was a woman trapped in a man's body. Tell us about that."
"I will," Fiona said, patting Joey on the thigh. "It's actually a funny story. When I first met her, she was making all kinds of crude, sexist jokes demeaning women, and I could see right away that deep down inside it was because she was a woman."
Joey sat, scratching behind the ears of the Pomeranian, a smile plastered on his pretty face, while Fiona she-splanned his life to the audience. He wanted to stop her. Accuse her. At least stand up and walk out in a huff, but somehow he found himself paralyzed, smiling, nodding and giggling along as she lied to everyone. The only truth was that she was the one who had done this to him somehow. And that meant that if he cried and pouted enough, he could get her to make him prettier.... No! I don't want to be pretty! "Omigod! I am such a scatter-brained ding-bat!"
Everyone froze and looked at Joey. His eyes went wide. "Did I say that out loud-- or something?"
"Or something," Colbert said, looking out at the audience, which burst out laughing.
The segment ended, crew came out on the stage. Joey was furious, but he was struggling to get up, and Fiona took his hand and helped him to his feet. "What the hell!" He said, furious.
Fiona pulled him close. His breasts pressed against her body, and she brushed a strand of golden hair from his forehead. "We'll talk about it later, angel." And then she just walked away, leaving Joey to mince along behind her in his tight little dress and heels.
Joey got out of his dress and heels, squirmed back into his jeans and Liberty jersey. Tony waited in the green room, and Joey went and found him. "Let's go."
"Good job," Tony said.
"I sucked."
"That's what she said."
Joey stopped, crossed his arms under his breasts. "Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah. I forgot."
"God!" Joey spun and headed to the stage door at the back of the theater that opened onto 52nd Street, next to the Hello, Deli! As soon as he pushed open the door, he was greeted by high-pitched screams and froze as what seemed like dozens of phones flashed in his face. "Candace! Candace!"
Joey shielded his eyes and started to try and push his way through the crowd, but Tony grabbed his arm and leaned down. "Sign some autographs, idiot."
"I don't..."
"Do it."
Joey plastered a smile on his face. Waved. Called out, "Hi, girls!" in his high-pitched voice, and the girls all called back, "Hiiiiiii!"
Joey endured it. Taking selfies with giggling fans. Signing pictures they had downloaded off the Internet, tickets to the Colbert Show, scraps of paper they'd fished out of their pockets...he would have loved it but for the fact that they were all talking to him like he was just one of the girls, and there was not the slightest interest in him as a man.
Finally, Tony once again took him by the arm and steered him through the crowd. "Candace has another appointment! Thanks, girls!"
Joey waved, glad to finally be freed, and he gasped with relief when he was sitting in the cab and it was pulling away from the curb, leaving the crowd of giggling girls behind.
Three days later Joey sat on his couch, glassy-eyed. He'd been playing Modern Warfare every waking hour since the show. He was wearing a pair of pink sweatpants that said "Angel" along the length of the leg, and a lacy pink bra. He'd initially swore he would never wear a bra, but after a day of his boobs bouncing and swaying, his nipples were sore and raw, and his breasts and back ached, so he'd finally slipped one of the delicate little bras on and immediately realized he would need one as long as he had his own C cups. He was drinking and smoking grass, ordering delivery food, trying to ignore the other changes in his body. It seemed everything he ate was going to his hips and ass, both of which were now plump and round, contrasting nicely with his tiny waist.
He had slender little arms like a girl.
He'd told Tony to refuse any more bookings. "How are you gonna pay the rent?"
"I don't know," Joey had said. "But not by being Candace the Ditzy blonde."
He thought about confronting Fiona. Going to her house and--- slapping her! But he was... well, he hated to admit it, but he was afraid of her. And so he just decided to hide, to cut himself off from the world and ... wait. Maybe Fiona would feel bad for him. Relent. Turn him back. Maybe he could... ask her nicely? Apologize?
No. He thought, adjusting his bra strap. Never.
He went back to playing Modern Warfare. He would never relent. Never.
He relented the next day, when upon waking up he slipped his panties down and sat down on the toilet without even thinking. It was only when he folded up a square of toilet paper and wiped himself that he realized what he'd done. He stood, annoyed. He couldn't even see himself down there anymore. His breasts were too big. But he was pretty sure it was getting smaller, and the way the rest of his body was changing, he felt very afraid that he would not be able to claim to be a man in any way--not for very much longer. Ignoring Fiona wasn't doing any good, so he finally found his phone and called her.
Fiona answered after one ring. "Hey, Candace," she said. "Anything new?"
"Haha," Joey said. "Fiona. I wanted to meet with you. To talk about... this."
"I bet you do, but the thing is I'm pretty busy, and we aren't really friends, so, sorry. Not gonna happen."
"Fiona, I'm sorry! I... Are you still...?" He looked at his phone. Call Discontinued. "Damnit!"
Chapter Four
"They want Candace, the scatter-brained dingbat, Joey. What do you want me to tell you?"
"Tell me?" Joey brushed his blonde bangs from his eyes. "Tell them I'll come and do my old act. I'm still me!"
"Nobody wants to see your old act coming from that face, J-money. Nobody." Joey's face had now changed along with the rest of the body. He had wide, innocent eyes ringed with thick, curly lashes, a tiny little upturned nose and full, fleshy lips; the old Joey would have called them cock-sucking lips.
"I really need the money."
"I know."
"So, what the hell am I supposed to do?"
"Give 'em Candace."
Joey minced into the Comedy Cellar, his purse dangling from his arm. He'd slipped into a red dress very similar to the one he'd worn on Colbert, matching heels. Dark red lipstick emphasized his now full, pouty lips. As soon as he walked into the green room, Pete and Rufus looked up, and their eyes went wide.
"What's your name?" Pete said.
"You are way too fine to be a comedian," Rufus said, running his eyes over Joey's body.
"Shut UP!" Joey said. "You know it's me."
Pete and Rufus looked at each other. Shook their heads. Neither one of them had ever seen this blonde Barbie doll before. "I'm sure I would remember you," Pete said. "Very sure. I could drink a bottle of rum and snort a pile of coke, and I wouldn't forget that face."
Joey put his little hands on his wide, round hips. "It's me! Joey!"
"What the..."
"No way," Rufus said.
"God," Joey said, setting down his purse., sliding into the booth, smoothing his skirt under his legs. "Just don't give me any shit, okay? I got cat-called all the way over here."
"No shit. So, that woman trapped in a man's body was for real?"
"Yeah," Rufus said. "We thought that was just Fiona messing with you."
"Fiona! Don't even get me started on her. I'm not a woman, or I mean, not on the inside, and I wasn't though now I am or something. Whatever. Look. This," he gestured down at his body, his dress, "is what they wanted, and I needed the money."
Rufus and Pete shrugged it off. "Whatever," Pete said. "It's your deal, but you are hot as hell."
"Shut it!"
Andy Goldman, the manager of the club, stepped in. He shook hands with Pete and Rufus. Kissed Joey on the cheek. "Look at this little cutie," he said. "You're gorgeous!"
"Yeah, yeah," Joey said.
"The show is sold out. We have 40 people on the waiting list."
"On a Monday night?" Rufus said.
"Everyone wants to see Candace here in her first show since she transitioned."
"Great," Joey said. "Now I'll probably bomb. "
"Bombshell, you mean," Andy said, then looking down meaningfully at Joey's epic cleavage, he said, "Remember. If you get in trouble, just shake those tits!"
The men all laughed. Joey crossed his arms under his breasts and frowned petulantly.
Pete and Rufus went up, and the crowd was hot, laughing and cheering, clapping. Then, the MC said, "And now tonight's headliner, the hottest girl in comedy, Candace, the ditzy blonde!"
Joey minced to the stage, wiggling his butt and shaking his breasts. "Omigod!" He said. "Omigod, you guys!" He'd written new material he hoped would work, but as soon as he went to the mic, he lost control, just like before, and started doing material he'd never written or seen before.
"Someone asked me once how many blondes it takes to screw in a light bulb," Joey said, tossing his hair and giggling. "I said I don't know. Light bulbs are one of the only things we won't screw!"
'I'm such a basic bitch now," he heard himself say. "Every fall I just can't wait to fill my mouth with pumpkin spice penis." Giggle.
"Last time I was here I was a man, and I did dumb blonde jokes. Now I just do dumb me jokes!"
The crowd laughed. Joey giggled and leaned forward, giving the guys a good look at his breasts. "One good thing about being a blonde ditz," Joey said, "is that now if I want applause, I can just shake my boobs!" He shook them batting his eyelashes, and the crowd roared and clapped.
The set ended. Joey pretended to drop something and bent over, letting the audience get a good look at his ass. Then he looked back between his legs and said, "my boyfriend says this is my best angle."
As he left the stage, the MC slapped him on the ass, grabbed the mic and said, "Isn't she the cutest little piece of ass you ever saw?"
Joey hurried out of the showroom, ashamed and relieved to be done with the self-mockery of the act he'd just done, and as he turned the corner and plunged into the green room, he stopped short, his breasts bouncing. "Fiona!" He squeaked.
Fiona sat there in a Nirvana t-shirt, ripped jeans, a leather jacket. She smirked. "Good show, Angel Face. Your material is almost as hot as your ass."
"You know I didn't write all that stuff."
"Well, it was all killer, angel face."
"Turn me back!" Joey said. "I've learned my lesson! Please! I hate all ... this! I'm a dude for chrissakes! Look at me! Do you know how humiliating this is?"
Fiona let her eyes drift over Joey's curvaceous, bombshell body. He could tell she was mentally undressing him, and he looked down and away, but stood still, unable to free himself from her gaze. "I need you to stay Candace for a little while," Fiona said.
"A little while?" Joey said.
Fiona stood, slipped one arm around Joey's waist, and then cupped his chin, turning his pretty little head to face her. Their faces were very close together, and his breasts were resting against her chest. Fiona stared into Joey's eyes. "I have an offer to develop a show for FX. I want Candace in the show."
"FX? Show?" Joey shook his head. "I don't know... I mean..."
"You're going to do the show, Candace. Don't think about it. Just say yes."
She was so strong. So confident. Joey felt himself melting in her arms. "Yes," he said, a smile breaking out on his pretty face like a sunrise. It was good having someone make decisions for him. "Yes!"
Fiona kissed him then, her free hand slipping down to cup his plump rear. Joey didn't know what was happening. He felt scared. Fiona was the one who did this to him! He should... he should... but his brain grew fuzzy, and he threw his slender little arms around her neck, pressed his soft, yielding body against hers, and kissed her back.
Chapter Five
"So, Candace, it is so good to meet you, and I want to welcome you as the newest client of Jane Theatrical Management."
Joey reached out to shake Jane Gold's hand, but instead she gave him a kiss on the cheek. Just like all the men in his life. "Well," he said, "I thought I was just coming today to hear your proposal? I've been with my current manager for years?"
"She is adorable," Jane said to Fiona.
"I know, right?" Fiona said, reaching out to shake Jane's hand.
"Sit down." Jane said, and Joey and Fiona sat down on a couch across a glass table from her. "So, now that Candace is in the fold, we can go ahead with the show. The network loves the title Fiona and the Ditz."
"Great. I think we can do some groundbreaking stuff here."
"Wait," Joey said. "Fiona and the ditz? Am I..."
"Don't worry your pretty little head over it, angel face," Fiona said, patting him on the thigh. "You just sit there and look sexy."
"She is just the most darling little kewpie doll."
"She's adorable. Audiences are going to love her in all the skimpy little outfits we have planned for her."
"And you want me to deposit both of your paychecks in your account?"
"Right," Fiona said. "Money management is not quite this scatter-brained dingbat's forte."
Joey just sat and smiled. He didn't seem to have the ability to stand up for himself anymore. Fiona made all the decisions, and he just was... well, it just seemed better to let her. He was a scatter-brained dingbat after all!
Chapter Six
"Quiet on the set! Quiet on the set!" The director for a moment and then said, "go!"
Joey plastered a fake smile on his face and stared at a computer screen, where a video of a kitten playing the piano was playing. The set was the living room of a working-class apartment.
Fiona walked in the front wearing a Carhart jacket, a flannel shirt, jeans and work boots. She sighed and tossed her keys onto the little table next to the door. "Angel," she said.
Joey made cooing sounds as he stared at the kitten with rapt attention.
"Angel," Fiona said again.
"Kittens make me feel so smart!" Joey said.
Fiona shook her head in frustration and said, "penis."
"Where?!" Joey squeaked, suddenly looking around with excitement. The live studio audience burst out laughing.
Chapter Seven
Joey wore a pink and white translucent baby doll, matching panties. The nightie clung to his breasts and hinted at all the soft perfection of his slender body. He'd just finished putting out breakfast-- yogurt and fruit, some cereal made from ancient grains. Fiona came in wearing men's pajamas, yawning and scratching her butt. "Looks great, angel," she said, giving Joey a kiss.
Joey smiled, pleased with himself. "Just trying to keep my partner happy."
"I'm heading down to the production meeting for season four after this. What's your day look like?"
"Waxing, tanning, mani-pedi, yoga."
"God. You are such a girly-girl."
Joey giggled. "I know, right? Um, can you put some money in my bank account?"
"Sure. Sure," Fiona said, absently.
A big, bright smile spread across Joey's face, and he squeaked. "Omigod, you are the best! I love you so much!"
Fiona closed her eyes. Sometimes Joey's high-pitched voice and girly enthusiasm was a little hard to take this early in the morning, but she just repeated her mantra, you made her this way. You made her this way, and then she smiled and said, "Okay. Have fun, angel face."
Joey had to do his hair and make-up before leaving the house, and he had to always wear something sexy. Ever since Fiona and the Ditz had become a hit show, he'd been followed around by paparazzi, and Fiona, Jane and the studio had all insisted that he needed to be on at all times, so he sat down every day and dutifully put on his base, lipstick, mascara. He fussed over his hair and slipped a bunch of bracelets on his wrists, a cute outfit, a spritz of perfume. Finally, some invariably impractical and uncomfortable footwear he'd been obligated to wear as part of some promotional deal Fiona had committed him to. Today it was a pair of high-heeled pink Converse. Everything he wore was designed to highlight parts of his body he found embarrassing; the tight little tank top hugged his breasts and celebrated his tiny round shoulders and arms. His shorts hugged his plump ass and showed off his round, sexy legs. But he'd been living this way for so many years now, he couldn't even say he hated it anymore. He just... dealt with it. Just like he dealt with all the unwanted attention from men, the filthy comments about him on twitter, the jokes other comedians made now about how much of a dumb bimbo he was. It wasn't fair. Any of it, but what could he do? Fiona had some kind of hold over him, and not just because he still hoped he would get to be a man again someday.
Whenever he tried to assert himself, or to talk about his needs, she would kiss him and sweet talk him, and then he would just swoon and forget all about it, falling back into some kind of fuzzy pink haze where he just listened to her and did whatever she told him, and he couldn't stop himself! He couldn't, and.... Oh no! He looked at his pink, jeweled cell phone. He had to leave right away or he might be late for his waxing appointment!
Joey glanced in the mirror to check his make-up, ran his long pink fingernails through his hair to muss it up a little, grabbed his purse and hurried to the garage, where his bright pink Cooper mini was waiting for him. The license plate read, "Candy 4EVR."
Joey slipped into the car and turned the ignition. He had wanted a stick shift, but Fiona had insisted on an automatic. Probably for the best, Joey thought, taking a quick peek at himself in the vanity mirror, smiling. After all, I'm such a scatter-brained dingbat. I would probably mistake it for a sex toy!
Giggle.
