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Marketing Success: Drag those feathers out (Monthly tale - 51)
🕑 Added 2022-08-02 16:52:12 +0000 UTC(Man into flamingo-TG)
It was just past midnight when Gregory Lawbley saw Madonna Louise Ciccone’s final show.
The only light illuminating the modest apartment came from the TV. Gregory was sitting on the couch, there was an assortment of snacks and a jug of margarita on the table in front of him and his roommate was sleeping in his room.
Gregory’s eyes were fixated on the screen as he munched a chip.
Gregory was a gangly tall white man, with long thin limbs and a long face with a prominent chin and nose. Slightly balding, his blond hair was cut very short and he had a couple of weeks of beard growth.
He hadn't shaved his face because he’d been on break from showbiz.
The man was only wearing socks and a large comfy shirt, just as you might imagine the girlfriend in some pornographic dramatization would do.
The performance he was watching happened to be the last one not just of Madonna’s last tour, but, as he would soon discover, also the last one of Madonna’s career as a human.
He was left entranced and then breathless as he saw how the pop queen, wearing a fancy toga, followed the conclusion of her final song of the night with a rather sensual retelling of the myth of Io. Gregory grunted when Madonna pulled out one of her breasts and began to rub it. As she told Io’s tale a squad of hunky men in tights stripped her completely naked in front of the world.
Gregory was on the edge of the seat, his mouth wide open, his respectably large penis was erect and making a tent in his shirt.
Madonna was fully nude on TV.
And then her voice broke on stage.
“Please... Do not worry... W-worry... at the end she... she became a go... goo... Goouuu...! GOOOOOOUUUUUUUH! MROUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”
A bellow.
The bowl of chips dropped to the floor.
Madonna, The Madonna, queen of pop, Gregory’s diva, his heart’s muse, was willingly transforming herself into a cow all for the sake of a performance.
Gregory’s shock gave way to chuckles as that image of a woman becoming a bovine was burned into his mind.
He understood, he fully understood the intention behind the act.
It was incredible.
Something only a genius could think of, and which was now firmly rooted in his brain.
He understood… and that became the man’s damnation.
Leaning back in his seat Gregory joyfully masturbated as Madonna’s voice became horny mooing.
On the TV the logo of Shift Inc. appeared on a large screen atop the stage.
Gregory stayed up until near dawn with all those new ideas boiling inside his mind and when he finally fell asleep his hand was still around his throbbing cock…
The dream.
The vision.
In the dream he was Augusta Fragile, of course she was, who else could she be?
She was on the stage, a red curtain behind her, the public were dozens of shadowy silhouettes in front, the spotlight directly above her.
The center of attention.
Augusta smirked.
Her makeup was perfect, a long pristine black dress framing her slim silhouette with a pair of matching dark feathers as earrings, a wild wig of pure white crowning her head. She noticed she was barefoot but didn’t care.
The stage was hers and only hers.
The public was captivated by her mere presence.
A heavy heartbeat.
In the center of her chest her dress began to change, the threads trembled, fuzzy, going from deep black to bright pink.
Soft, fluffy.
Feathers.
Her black dress became pink feathers that extend in all directions from her chest.
Augusta’s face radiated awe, she giggled modestly, fascinated by the metamorphosing dress. She rubbed the feathers with her fingertips, soft, so soft it felt unreal yet was truer than reality.
Her penis was stiff between trembling legs.
The audience clapped and cheered, her smirk widened.
She took a step forward towards the edge of the stage. The boundary between feathers and skin was blurring. Augusta leaned her head back and in a single sweeping motion opened her arms.
And both wings spread at once.
(Manip by Tsilver: https://www.deviantart.com/tsilver)
Thunderous applause.
Augusta flapped her wings, the skirt of her dress dropped, revealing her erection surrounded by tender pink. She gave a gentle bow, the public stood up, going wild.
As the diva straightened up the camera moved back from behind her, away from the dream, the form of the winged Queen became a shadow surrounded by gleefully earnest acclaim.
Gregory didn’t want to wake up from the vision ever again, but his eyes opened right after the neck of Augusta’s shadow suddenly stretched itself thin.
The man was on his bed, gasping, soaked in sweat. He took off his shirt and looked down at his naked body, he stared at his hands for a long while… The internal debate in his heart came to a unanimous conclusion: He was disappointed that his hands weren’t wings. That made Gregory laugh heartily as he grabbed his hardon once more and pumped his phallus, invoking a new erection.
On the wall above the bed there was a frame with a movie poster, a John Waters’s flick. In the portrait there was a large voluptuous Queen wearing a long red dress, tight around her curves, but wide at her feet, her hair and makeup were outrageous, she was pointing a gun towards the crowd with a blue sky at her back.
“Mother, I will be a flamingo…!” he proclaimed right then and there, sealing his fate.
The words were spoken with an unflinching determination, firmly setting the end of a man’s tale in place.
Gregory knew one thing clearly from the start: Inspiration wasn’t enough, Augusta's final show required some careful planning to be more than perfect.
The first step was easy enough, Shift Inc. already sold products that were based on flamingo hormones. He found a Brazilian Youtube ad by Romana Graciela, a famous Carnival Queen.
“Productos para féminas que quieren despertar la bestia en su corazón!” gloated Romana, showing a lotion tube with a background of pink feathers behind her.
It made Gregory smirk.
“A Carnival Queen helping a Drag Queen! Seems fitting!”
Little did he suspect that both Queen’s were destined to share the same fate...
(Monthly Art 11: Marketing Success: Carnival Queen)
Figuring how to get the flamingo cream wouldn’t prove to be too hard, he wasn’t going to spare any expense, after all, once the show was over he would have no need for money anyway.
The second step would be rather more difficult.
Gregory had to convince Duran that he wasn’t crazy and that his metamorphosing performance was a fantastic idea.
Duran, with his perfect petite mustache, was Gregory’s friend, roommate, occasional lover, manager and the owner of the Queer Theatre at which Augusta Fragile was one of the biggest stars.
While Gregory might not have been a proper lady at all, he certainly knew that a secure path to a man’s heart is through their belly, so first of all he prepared a tasty dinner of some of Duran’s favorite dishes.
Usually Gregory wore suits and Augusta wore dresses, but that didn’t feel sufficient to illustrate the magnitude of his inspiration or the genuine sincerity of his intentions, so the Drag Queen was inclined to an initial compromise, perhaps to prepare herself for the second.
He wore one of his silvery wigs, the curly one, and put on neat makeup, of pink tones of course, and large hoop earrings, but didn’t wear anything else. Naked and fully male from the neck below.
That’s how he greeted Duran when he arrived home.
Duran didn’t need to look twice at his roommate's exposed penis to know something was up, something he wasn’t going to like an ounce, but his nose detected the smell of the food so he decided to focus on that pleasure first.
They had a lovely dinner by candlelight.
As Duran began to tackle the desserts, Gregory crossed his legs, making sure his partner got a good look at him.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” he asked.
Duran pointed at him with a fork.
“Stop wiggling your cock around and explain what wackery you’ve got in your skull now!”
Gregory proceeded to explain in exquisite detail his idea for the show, step by step, he couldn’t avoid getting hard as he did.
“Then,” he began the finale. “Once my horrid, spectacularly and jaw-droppingly erotic transformation finishes, you, sorry but it has to be you hon, will open the ceiling window and the flamingo I have become will majestically and gracefully fly off the stage, leaving behind nothing but a pile of clothes, to live forever free in the wild, concluding Augusta Fragile’s career and humanity!”
When Gregory finished the explanation he put his hands together and stared at Duran with shining eyes, blinking his long eyelashes several times.
Duran, very calmly, wiped the dessert cream from his lips with a napkin.
“Yes,” he said finally. “You’re crazy, we aren’t doing that.”
Gregory chuckled, rolled her eyes and leant back..
“You don’t understand, you may not understand it until you see it, but you have to fully trust me with this one, it will be worth it.”
“Watching you mutate into a freaky bird is not going to change my opinion, Greg.”
“It’s not just that, hon! It’s art, it has to be seen to be fully grasped! Experienced! Augusta Fragile’s last performance: Flamenco Rosa! It cannot be any other way, she must become a flamingo and that means I will too!”
“Look, I know, you saw Madonna become a fat cow on TV, it got you horny and now you want to transform into a pink chick. Fine, sure, just not on my stage.”
“It is not your stage!”
“The property deed says otherwise.”
“Don’t be a pig, you know your little theater of amateurs would be nothing without my hips!”
“Even more of a reason not to allow my diva to turn herself into a damn bird cause she’s got a weird hardon!”
“First of all, it’s my body that we are talking about here, you can’t tell Augusta what to do!”
“Yes I can I…!” Duran's words babbled on when Augusta crossed her arms. just as Gregory had crossed his legs a while ago, and gave him a cold stare. “I… I…! You can’t be serious! Jebus! It wouldn’t just be Augusta’s last performance, it would be the end of your human life!”
“As it must be.”
Duran lifted his arms.
“Nobody is asking you to sacrifice everything for… art or whatever!”
“Augusta performs for herself.“
“Have you thought…!”
“I explained every detail of the show for fifteen minutes, so yes, you annoying dumbo, I have thought about it!”
“If you… If you had thought about it so well you wouldn’t be so… Willing…” Duran twitched his lips and looked away. “Come on, Greg… a freaking flamingo, it’s an ugly ass looking bird!”
Augusta raised one of her defined eyebrows and gently but firmly grabbed one of Duran’s hands.
“Am I ugly?” she asked.
“What?” Duran shook his head. “No… of course not, I…”
“I will be a flamingo, Duran, which means I am already a flamingo, if flamingos are ugly doesn’t that mean you have the balls to call me ugly?”
“No! You are beautiful…!”
“Then flamingos are beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Don’t try to pull that word trickery on me… Y-You may make a damn fine flamingo, you will, the prettiest bird, I’m sure of that, but… you know what I mean…!”
Augusta giggled.
“There’s no trickery here,” Gregory spread his legs and led Duran’s hand towards his crotch. “I’m wearing no sleeves, no clothes, and soon enough all I ever wear will be bright and soft pink feathers…”
Duran gulped and wrapped his fingers around Gregory’s hot hardon, grabbing the stiff beating meat.
“Any doubts or objections you may have,” August declared with fierce unflinching certainty. “I can answer them.”
After some dick-rubbing Duran managed to look back into Gregory’s eyes.
“Are you sure of that, you smug skinny bitch?” he asked. “What about the fact that undressing is the antithesis of a drag show? Are you finally going full pervert? You just want to show your willy in public?”
Duran squeezed the cock with some force, Gregory's body stiffened with a chill of pleasure.
“You're right about that,” he gasped. “But changing dresses ain’t that rare in a good show, instead of cross-dressing I’m gonna be… cross-fleshing…!” she smirked.
“I… Uh, I guess that’s sorta of a fair answer…”
“Child-friendly stuff? Sure, that’s dandy for the wider public, but there’s nothing wrong about an erotic show for adults! The erotism of changing flesh! The erotism of the impossible! Not to mention that, at it’s worst, this willy you are squeezing will not be on stage for long.”
“Uhhh …?”
“Shift Inc. are products for women, sad as it may sound this cock of mine has gained an expiration date since the Queen of Muses whispered this wicked plot into my ears.”
“You…” Duran looked down at the dick he was masturbating. “You mean…?”
“Yes, I mean Augusta Fragile will no longer perform as human or as a woman, because she is a female flamingo.”
The cock-pumping slowed.
“How are you so sure?”
“Hon, there’s Shift Inc. ads and pamphlets everywhere, they explain it quite clearly. Guys become beastly girls if they are dumb enough to use their products… and I will become a big pink chick.”
“How will it happen?”
Gregory's eyes widened, finally a question that caused some doubt.
“I’m not… Not sure about that, no man has done it before… with flamingo hormones at least… What I’m sure of is that it will be something unforgettable to witness… and to experience first hand.”
Duran pushed the cock down, making Gregory shiver and gasp.
“What happens with the flamingo after that’s all you are?” he asked next.
“Uh? What’s supposed to happen afterwards? I’m a flamingo, that’s all, that’s the ending.”
“But… We’ll send you to the zoo? Keep you as a pet?”
Augusta shook her head passionately.
“No, no, no, you are not putting this fine arse in a bird cage! I’m going to live as I should, as I am, finally free of any human restraints, savage and ravishing!”
“In some swamp?”
“Maybe? There’s nothing to worry about, this is Florida, my natural habitat!”
“Is it?”
Gregory shrugged.
“Well, even if it’s not then I will just fly off following my instincts towards the nearest flock that will welcome such a desirable female, I’m a migratory bird after all.”
“What if a caiman eats you in the swamp?!”
“What if a car hits me in the street? You keep missing the point, that’s why you are the manager and I am the artist!” she raised her arms, smiling radiantly. “So stop worrying and prepare the stage for the diva, that’s your job!”
“You’re right, Greg, I don’t see the point at all…”
“Your cock seems to say otherwise, hon.”
“Greg…”
“Sigh, you are more of a pussy than I am…” Gregory leaned forward to unzip Duran’s pants. “I knew it would take more than food and sex to convince you, so how does this sound: What if you made an entire years profits in one night with my last show?”
“I would say…” Duran grunted as his cock ended up in Gregory’s hands. “I would say that you are overestimating the public’s willingness to watch you squawking on stage.”
Augusta smirked sharply and pinched her lover’s penis with the tips of her long nails.
“You are underestimating Augusta Fragile’s audience pull for literally the last time ever, hon… This show will be my best and the best one you'll produce for the rest of your career. It will be legendary, the highest peak… But you can’t see it yet, so here’s my artistic compromise: Augusta films an ad spoiling the end of the show, so everybody knows what the spectacular finale will be and if we outsell any of our previous shows in twenty-four hours you give the green light without any further complaints.”
Duran weighed up the offer for a few minutes whilst masturbating and being masturbated by his lover.
“You are crazy,” he answered finally. “But you are the best Drag Queen in town and equally good at cooking and sex, so I will grant you this dumb whim, we will air the ad and when you fail, because it is going to fail, you’ll never again mention this and you’ll come to your damn senses,” he squeezed Gregory’s cock tightly. “And if you are correct then… I will shave my mustache! Deal?”
Gregory squeezed Duran’s cock in return, even stronger.
“A gentleman's deal!” he proclaimed.
They kissed.
“Do flamingos squawk?” Duran wondered when the kiss ended.
“We will find out soon enough…!” Gregory answered with absolute certainty.
They kissed again.
The two men had sex for the rest of the night.
Undistilled homosexual love that would be the envy of lovers ten years younger than them. At first, as was their tradition, Duran was the dom and Gregory the enthusiastic sub, but, shortly after the first orgasm the switch happened naturally.
Gregory gently dominated Duran, fully aware that his partner was like melting wax in his hands. He rode that sweet ass, gloating in the carnal act, and at the peak of ecstasy, of heat and sweat, he spread his arms imagining they were her wings.
Several hours later, as dawn approached again, they were laying on the floor spooning nakedly, their bodies covered by a blanket, the candles consumed, near the empty dishes of last night’s dinner.
Duran was hugging Gregory from behind, dozing peacefully.
Yet the manager managed to mumble a last inquiry.
“Wha bout your son…?” he babbled out of his drooling mouth.
That question woke Gregory. He lifted himself up and sat near Duran, fondling the man’s mustache and looking through a nearby window as the dark of the night became the blue of the morning.
What about his son?
The question nestled in his brain, lingering on his shoulders while Duran snoozed.
“What about my son?” Gregory whispered.
He took off his wig.
That answer would have to wait, Augusta was going to film an ad.
The filming and the editing took place over the weekend, a restrained and quite simplistic montage. A curtain of pink feathers appeared on screen, they shook and then opened to reveal that the feathers belonged to a pair of large hand fans that Augusta was holding.
Augusta was wearing a pink summer dress with pink fluffy slippers and this time her white wig was curly, and the background was plain white.
She stretched and posed for the camera for a few seconds, dancing with the hand fans before bursting into laughter.
“You love me!” she told the camera. “Augusta Fragile! The best drag performer in town! You love my shows! You love my mere presence! And, let’s be honest here darlings, you’ve had it too good! Too good for too long is not healthy, dears, and it must end! The spectacle will go on, but Augusta is leaving the stage! This is the bittersweet with extra sugar announcement of my last show! Augusta’s finale!” she stepped forward, making a stiff intimidating pose. “Flamenco Rosa!”
There was a small pop and even more pink feathers fell from above.
Augusta spun a couple of times.
“Your ears are working just fine, darlings!” she continued. “You heard me right, I’m retiring, the end of my showbiz career! It will be my last show ever, the last chance you’ll have to see this living, breathing, hot body!” Augusta wiggled her hips. “And you know it will be worth it because you already love Augusta! It will be my best display ever, but it will not mark just my retirement from the stage, but also from humanity itself!”
She gave a devilish wink to the camera.
“You didn’t mishear that either! Augusta is too good for this human world, so she’s leaving it and I mean it! Big spoilers next, but, at the end of the show, using the enchanting magic of Shift Inc. I will perform the final act of my career!”
Augusta hugged herself, and made an intense expression for the camera.
“Augusta will transform for you all! I’m going to metamorphose!”
The Drag Queen traced a line on the floor with her feet, covered by the still falling pink feathers.
“That taboo! That line you can’t cross because there’s no way back!” she gracefully leapt across the line. “I will cross it without shame or respect and I will pay the price, I will become a flamingo! A pink flamingo! I will transform, live on stage, for all my darlings to see, no other trick other than the ultimate permanent ruination of my flesh and then I will rise from my remains like a pink phoenix and forever leave human mundanity, never to be seen again!” she began to tip toe. “It will be tragic! It will be erotic! It will be fun! It will be spectacular! Outrageous, kinky, enduring! Something never seen before! The culmination of all I am and all I will ever be! And you, darlings, you will love it, because you love me!”
She bowed.
“This is the humble last request from a queen that has known nothing but pride: Come to the Queer Theatre to enjoy the show, to say farewell to a crazy granny…”
Augusta rose back up and opened her arms wide.
“And witness Augusta Fragile finally, truly spreading her wings and flying!”
Whilst Augusta stood tall and pink feathers kept raining down, the location of the theater and of the webpage to buy tickets appeared on screen.
Then the ad finished.
They uploaded it onto the net shortly after the editing was finished.
Two hours.
Two hours is all it took for Flamenco Rosa to outsell every previous Augusta show, or in fact, any show in the history of the theater for that matter, as the word spread like wildfire..
They sold every single possible seat.
Duran was speechless but not entirely sure if he should be upset for losing the bet.
Gregory laughed and patted his back.
“You should make sure you do a good job of filming the show,” the Drag Queen told his lover-manager-pal. “I can assure you those videos will sell like cupcakes as well! But don’t you dare shave that cute mustache!”
A while later Gregory’s cell phone rang.
He wasn’t in the least surprised when he saw his son’s name on the screen.
They met on the street in the busy center of town, near to where Gregory’s son worked.
Gregory was dressed like any random upstanding male citizen, in shirt and jeans, nothing wacky, perfectly shaved. The only reason you could win a bet about him being a Drag Queen would be if you already knew his tale.
“Hey, kiddo!” Gregory met his son, who was already waiting for him, with a big smile and a hand wave. “How are you doing? Wanna go for a coffee?”
His son worked in an office building, he was an accountant of some sort, a comfy job, well paid and not too stressful. His name was Skyler, Skyler Lawbley. Gregory made sure to pick a gender neutral name for him.
Skyler didn’t look too different from Gregory, just younger, even if maybe not as fit and having dodged the bullet of alopecia. He wore square glasses and his suit was even more discreet than his dad’s, even if his shave was not as good.
“What’s that crazy nonsense about you becoming a flamingo, dad?” Skyler went straight to the heart of the matter at hand, directly and dryly.
Gregory lowered his arms and his smile faded a bit.
“Oh, you saw it already…?”
“Of course I did! Jena send me the stupid video!”
Jena was Skyler’s fiancee.
“That makes sense… Let’s go for a walk then?”
Father and son began to walk towards a nearby avenue lined with trees.
“So… Did Jena like the ad?”
“She loves it, thinks it is hilarious and that you don’t have the balls to do it.”
Gregory chuckled.
“Your girlfriend still underestimates your old father, uh? She's gonna have to eat those words!”
“Dad…!”
“What about you, kiddo, did you like it?”
“What do you think?”
“I guess… not?”
“Stop trying to be witty, you've gone too far this time! Even implying that you are going to… to…! What about Duran? There’s no way he will allow your… insanity!”
“Eh, I knew from the start he needed some convincing and it would be just as hard as you, but I still have my lady's touch with a man and he gave me the green light.”
“No! No way! I will call him!”
“Leave the old bone alone… Also, we’ve already sold all the tickets, so he would be even angrier if I didn’t do it… It’s gonna be the largest event in the Queer Theatre’s history! Augusta's greatest, brightest show! Come on, if Duran can accept it, you can too, you’re a smart man, there's worse things than being the son of a bird!”
Skyler fixed his father with his eyes.
“That’s not funny!” Skyler didn’t raise his voice, he was clearly angry but very good at controlling it. “Why are we even talking as if you were really going to do it! It… It must be illegal!”
Gregory shrugged.
“I don’t think so? I don’t really care, my art is more important than the law.”
“What about…”
“Skyler, I convinced Duran, you know what that means and I’m not having this conversation all over again. There’s no what’s, why’s or how’s that I can't answer or I haven’t thought about, this matter is a settled, I’m becoming a flamingo chick and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, you can hate me or live with it… you are an adult, kiddo, a good man, I’m proud of you no matter what.”
They walked a few meters further in silence.
“I can emotionally manipulate you too…” Skyler grunted.
“I don’t think so, you’ve never wanted to learn about the feminine.”
Skyler stopped and so did Gregory.
“When were you going to tell me? Uh? When were you going to tell your son? Was it going to be another video surprise or were you waiting until you could only… quack or caw or whatever the heck fucking noises flamingos make?”
Gregory scratched the back of his head.
“Actually…” he mumbled. “Yes? Maybe after nesting a couple of times?”
“No more jokes!”
“It isn’t a joke…” Gregory sighe. “I could have just flown into your bedroom window and waved my wings… it would have been quite funny…”
“Dad!”
“Son, I’m being completely honest with you, I wasn’t really planning to tell you.”
“How could you say such a thing?!”
“I need Duran’s permission, but I don’t need yours. It’s my life, kiddo, my body and I chose this, even if people think it’s a waste, or silly, or absurd, or stupid, or horrific or any other word they choose… Even if you agree with them… I will fly.”
Another short silence.
“Why? Why this? Why… no, I don’t care why a flamingo, but why?”
“Plenty of reasons.”
“Just give me one…! One good one and I will accept it… even if that doesn’t matter to you…”
Gregory crossed his arms.
“Geez… you certainly can emotionaly manipulate your poor dumb dad…” he leaned forward and then said. “The same reason why I can be Augusta here, for example, is that good enough for you?”
He began to walk again, Skyler thought about it for a second, frowned and quickly caught up with Gregory.
“Dad,” he said in a worried tone. “You aren’t doing this because I didn’t want you to perform as Augusta at the wedding are you?”
Gregory frowned like his son, but with indignation.
“What the heck are you…! You little rat! No, of course no! Good goddess! You are not the center of the world! Maybe of yours, but not mine! This isn’t about you! This is about me! My art, my career, my existence! I want to be divine! What’s so hard to understand!”
Skyler pondered that as the two kept walking.
“A lot…” he finally mumbled. “You will miss the wedding…”
“Not necessarily if you want me there… and are okay with a freaky bird walking you to the altar… Hey, maybe I could bring the rings? How about that? In my beak… Maybe tied around my neck?”
They had walked quite a way further.
“Shit, it’s crazy…” gasped Skyler. “You are really doing it… You are going to be a flamingo…”
Gregory patted his shoulder.
“Thank you kiddo, for understanding… I didn’t even need to trick you with a bet!”
“What about mom…?”
“I can assure you one hundred percent that your mother is gonna love Flamenco Rosa in a way that is only second to me! How do you think Jena got the video? She got it because I sent it to your mom.”
“Ah… Ohhhh…” they walked a bit more… then Skyler managed to take the hen down a peg with a play that Gregory couldn’t have ever guessed at. “I’m going to the show,” he proclaimed calmly.
Gregory blinked several times.
“What show…?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Yours, obviously.”
“The tickets are all sold.”
“I’m the son of the main attraction, I’m sure you can get me a VIP pass.”
“You never come to any of my shows!”
“But this one is special, isn’t it dad?” Skyler smirked maliciously. “It’s Augusta Fragile’s Flamenco Rosa, the last show of the great Drag Queen! The culmination of my father’s work and life! You can’t really have thought I was going to miss it, could you?”
Gregory gulped.
“You will hate it! You don’t want to see… me…”
“See you transforming into a… what was it you said… Flamingo chick? No, I don’t want to see it, I will hate it, but I’m still going to see it, from the beginning to the… bitterly bittersweet sweet end.”
For a flashing moment Augusta saw a daughter in her son, it scared her.
“Skyler…” she whispered.
“What’s the issue? You are certain about your spectacle, aren’t you? Certain to the point of absolute public humiliation and you didn’t need my permission, so why would it be a problem if I’m there? You are going to transform into a flamingo! No…! You are already a flamingo! Correct? If me being there bothers you enough to get cold feet, if you don’t want me to see it, then the solution is simple: Don’t do it. Stay a man or show your son how high you can fly.”
Skyler sorta won the argument, he was debating with a flamingo after all and Gregory would have been disappointed if his son lost to a bird.
One coffee later they said see you later.
By the time Gregory arrived at home he had a mild headache and only wanted to drink some cider and dress up, but instead on the doorstep he found a package.
It came from Brazil.
He picked up the package, rushed in, opened it.
Shift Inc.
A tube of lotion.
Pink Plumage hydrating cream.
Greogry’s heart was beating fast, his hand shook as he picked up the tube and when he raised the small thing a strong pulse began to push blood into his penis.
The tube felt heavy on his fingers… he clenched his lips…
A moment of weakness.
His eyes moved to the apartment window… He thought about doing it now, alone, without any witnesses or need for further explanations…
Doing it right now, flying through the window.
His knees shook.
“I’m no man at all…” he sobbed.
If it wasn’t because the door to his room was open his tale may have ended right there, but the door was open and he saw the movie poster above his bed.
Gregory breathed deeply and put the tube back inside it’s package.
“It must be perfect,” he reassured himself.
Only a few days longer…
They passed in what seemed like a blink.
Duran took Gregory's advice to the letter, and hired a professional film crew, professional cameraman, and professional lighting and sound.
It felt a bit overwhelming, even after all the on point rehearsals.
There was already a substantial crowd gathering around the entrance to the Queer Theatre. They didn’t recognize the diva when she passed right in front of them to get in, which didn’t surprise Augusta in the slightest.
She only existed on the stage.
There was a palpable electric tension in the air.
Static.
Everybody knew and Gregory was the one that knew it the most.
Duran met Gregory with a kiss after leading him into Augustas private dressing room.
“Are you still sure about this?” the mustached gentleman asked.
“Fully”, was Gregory’s response.
His lover nodded and left him alone.
With the spacious dressing room all to himself Gregory undressed as a man for the last time, he looked at his naked reflection in the large mirror.
He breathed deeply.
Did some stretches.
“It’s showtime…” he whispered.
He put on his make up, delineated his eyes with black, applied pink lipstick.
Augusta dressed up, stockings, the padding, the first outfit of the night was a pure white gown.
The silver wig she chose for tonight was a straight bob cut.
When everything was perfect she left the room.
Duran and Skyler were waiting for her backstage, right behind the red curtains.
“Break a leg, dad,” Skyler told his father after Augusta hugged him.
The seats were full with an expectant audience of hundreds.
It was about to begin.
Three young vibrant Drag Queens walked onto the stage, Drag Princesses you could say, they were the initial act, a sort of prologue to Flamenco Rosa.
They warmed up the crowd for the main event, causing some laughter and applause while giving a perhaps not entirely biographically accurate but gleefully entertaining summarized resume of Augusta Fragile’s deeds and career.
They did a great job in Augusta’s opinion.
Fifteen minutes after the three ladies had said goodbye to the crowd, wishing them a good night full of wonder, they put a cheap plastic flamingo in the middle of the stage, one of those things that folks use as garden decorations and left without any further explanation.
The audience was left confused for a few minutes and it wasn’t until they all seemed to be getting nervous that the small explosion happened.
A cloud of white smoke rose from the stage floor, surrounding the plastic flamingo, then the flamingo’s shadow disappeared, engulfed by Augusta’s silhouette when she stood up with her arms raised.
The Drag Queen did a graceful bow dispersing the clouds, kicking the plastic flamingo that had ended up underneath her wide skirt behind the curtain.
Thunderous applause.
Just like in her dream.
It was a two hour long performance, getting into every detail would make an already long tale excessive, but, needless to say, Augusta wasn’t wrong.
Flamenco Rosa was her best show and everybody enjoyed it.
There was a small note with every ticket, a tiny plea from the artist, to engage with the spectacle like they didn’t already know the ending. Quite a bold demand from your audience, but it somehow worked for the most part.
At least until she reached the very end.
Augusta danced, sang, juggled, she was great at that, there were a couple of monologues too and plenty of cheeky jokes, both at her own expense and at the expense of the world.
When the time arrived, after those two hours, Augusta was sitting on a tall stool, with a glass of her favorite drink in hand, a cigarette in a cigarette holder, the mic in a nearby stand and her satisfied audience in front of her.
She was wearing a shiny black dress with a short skirt, figure hugging, and, like in her vision, she was already barefoot, with her legs crossed.
The Drag Queen took a long drag on her cigarette, holding the smoke in before slowly letting it out, the ash dropping onto the stage floor.
“You know, darlings,” she said with a motherly familiarity. “I had a fancy idea for the show's finale, for what you know it’s coming… Don’t be coy with granny now, you know what’s coming next…!” she chuckled.
Augusta finished her smoke and dropped the holder.
“It was going to be grand, extravagant, with a bunch of girls helping me, dancing and jumping around my form as I finally transformed!” She took a sip from her drink. “Big, as big I deserve, with a meta narrative about me being a cursed queen, ruined by her own hubris, cursed to have to live as a bird, yet finding freedom in her new humble existence… but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like diluting the point of the metamorphosis… MY metamorphosis… The point that was already clear.”
She took a long sip from her drink, finishing it, then dropped the glass which rolled to the edge of the stage and fell off, shattering on the floor.
“A good show is reward enough, a good show is the goal, the intention, the change is just a cherry on top, self-explanatory and up to interpretation…” Augusta pulled the flamingo plumage lotion from inside her bra. “It was a good show, good enough I think, don’t you agree? It is time… For me to go. Time to say goodnight and goodbye, I have always been a master at saying goodbye, my darlings…”
Augusta unscrewed the cap from the lotion, dropped the top of the tube.
“What would the world say? About me? About Augusta Fragile!” she smirked fiercely and stood tall. “That she was blinded by pride? Maybe a smug one trick pony? You know what I say to that? I say don’t try this at home and…” she winked and then shouted, loudly and firmly. “I say good riddance!”
The audience held its breath, the cameras zoomed in, backstage Skyler and Duran stood stiffly.
The Drag Queen tilted her head back, opened her mouth wide, aimed the tube at her throat and squeezed it with both hands. A slimy pink waterfall slid down her neck.
It taste… soft…
She threw the empty tube away, looking towards the public with her mouth full.
Augusta smiled, with her cheeks full… and then swallowed it all…
After the gulp she coughed a couple of times, then hit her chest with a fist.
“Oh, boy!” she gloated gleefully. “Fiuuu! That wasn’t icing, that’s for sure!”
There were a few chuckles from the crowd, but the tension remained, everybody was on the edge of their seats.
Blood boiled.
Heartbeats sped up.
Cramp pulsed through her spine.
Chilling goosebumps contracted every pore in her smooth skin.
A premonition of the flesh.
Augusta maintained the composure, she picked up the mic from the stand and began to walk around the stage as she spoke.
“Don’t get dopy now, darlings, this ain't a funeral! This is a celebration!” her barefooted steps, even if unyielding, were slightly uneven, as if something invisible was pulling at her body. “Do you want to hear some fun flamingo facts straight from a flamingo’s beak?”
There were some small gasps and giggles.
The Drag Queen felt the twitching against her skirt before looking down. Her penis had awoken, thrusting into a full tented erection, lifting up the fabric of her dress into a very noticeable tent.
She felt a lustful throbbing tempting her trembling hands.
The desire was intense.
“Oh, oh, hey!” She laughed earnestly and put the open palm of her free hand right on top of her erection, as she stood sideways so her public got a good view. “You can’t fight nature and this is all organic!” she made a couple of circular motions with her open palm, pressing against the hardon, the zap of pleasure made her bite the lips. “BABY!” the diva shouted. “Jebus! Those ad campaigns don’t lie ladies, Shift Inc. is the real shit!” Augusta grabbed her penis and stood centre stage, fondling the phallus through her clothes with a thumb. “You also now know for sure that the rumors are true, this queen chick had a bigger cock than your husband!”
Many ladies in the crowd burst into laughter, while some gentlemen grew nervous.
Augusta kept walking up and down while the hand that wasn’t on mic duty continued playing with her penis.
“First fun fact and probably the most well know one: We flamingos are usually pink because of our gay diet of fine shrimps and fancy algae! Luckily for us the good lads in Shift Inc. made sure to add the pigmentation to their hormones so you don’t have to worry, I’m going to be as pink as piiIIIIIIIIIIIINK!”
The sudden squawking outburst took her as much by surprise as the public.
She stopped masturbating to rub her throat with a dumbfounded expression.
“Pink, pink…” she coughed a few times, remembered where she was, the smile came back to her lips. “Yeah, uh, mud, our nests, we make them with mud, we live on river banks after all and… Ah, this is a little known piece of trivia, we flamingos produce a kind of crop milk with a… thingie in our throats…” she rubbed her neck again. “Many birds do and… and…” Augusta stopped.
She looked down at the audience, shook her lips, the twisting tension in her muscles gradually approaching the breaking point.
“Screw it!” she said and moved the mic to her lips. “EEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK! EEEEEEEEEEEEEG IIIIIIIIIIIG! GUIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! BUI! BUI! BUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”
The Drag Queen gaggled, quacked and honked, her hooting screeches echoed around the far corners of the theater.
She confidently smirked to the crowd once the echoes had died away, with a hand on her hips her erect penis slid out of her skirt.
Her sex was fully exposed to the world.
An unplanned surprise, a moment of shock and hesitation, one that Augusta quickly took advantage of. She spread her legs and pulled her panties down from below so her ballsack also came out.
“Yeah, darlings, hear your horny granny squawk!” she yelled into the mic. “That’s all she’s good for!
The audience’s shock broke and they began to clap and cheer.
Augusta swiveled her waist, left and right and, in a moment of defiance, pointed her dick towards the backstage area, so Duran, Skyler and the three young princesses there could see it clearly.
Skyler and Duran turned a shade of pale as they realized that the uncrossable line had truly been crossed. Gregory, the father, the lover, the man, and them had barely got a chance to say goodbye.
“NeEEEEEeext fun fact!” Augusta spread her arms and stood up on one leg, her dick dangling out and the foot of her raised leg touching her butt. “We flamingos can sleep standing on one foot!” she explained. “It’s less tiring and saves body heat, maybe you should try it, it could help you get fit! Oh, OH, beforeEEEEiikk forget, do you know what a group of flamingos is called? It’s called a flamboyance!” her laughter sounded like croaking. “Isn’t that amazing! TeeEEEEeell me I don’t fit it to the boneeeeh! Iiiii UH! AUCH!”
An abrupt outburst of muscle snaps made Augusta lose her balance.
The mic was dropped, the diva fell backwards, right onto her own butt and ended in a pose that wouldn't be unusual from a ballerina. One leg extended forward, the other under her ass and her cock in between. She leaned forward, grabbing the shaved skin of her long extended legs with both hands.
“Holy fucking me!” screamed Augusta, feeling the changing of her flesh with the tips of her fingers.
Snaps, cracks and other sounds, so loud the public didn’t need a mic to hear them, happened in rapid succession as the Drag Queen’s legs became thinner and brightly pink.
The real metamorphosis had finally started.
In a few mesmerizing seconds, at the end of the changing legs the thumb and pinky toes merged with their closest neighbors, leaving only three digits on the feet. The nails of those remaining toes became dark and pointy.
“What a manicure…!” gasped Augusta.
The public agreed.
A membrane sprouted from toe to toe, making the foot look more like a flipper. The skin seemed to dry, acquiring the avian texture that was usual for the lower limbs of the avian kindred. The leg became remarkably thin and remarkably pink.
She had a flamingo’s leg.
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAK!” She couldn't contain the swquack as the last wave of cracking sounds finished the remodeling of her legs.
Augusta remained sitting, shaking her bird limb in complete awe until she remembered that she was running a show.
The Drag Queen stood up, the silent eyes of the audience fixed on her.
She tapped the floor with her flappy foot and then, hopefully certain that it would hold her weight, lifted her human leg.
“Ta-da!” she shouted, raising her arms. “Now you can’t deny your sight! I am a woman of my word! There’s no trickery here, darlings! Just a wacky lady finally growing her feathers!”
Cheering, clapping.
Augusta’s heart felt exhilarated and not just because of the transformation.
She stood back on two legs before losing her balance again, the tingle of the changes already spreading over the human one. Augusta looked down at her body, admiring that birdly foot next to her human one. She scratched the human skin with the avian claw and laughed hard.
A new tingling.
“My feathers! My featheEEers!” she exclaimed excitedly.
The diva spread and rolled up her skirt, exposing more of her nude shaved crotch.
Around that area, surrounding her cock and balls, the pores seem to be exploding one after another in rapid succession as tiny pink dots sprouted from inside the skin and quickly grew in length.
Soon her crotch became engulfed by fuzzy pink plumage.
Augusta’s face radiated as she touched the mass of feathers surrounding her sex, the wave of feathers climbing up towards her navel and reaching for her ass.
So soft, exactly like in her dreams.
But that happy expression didn’t last, it didn’t hurt, but it felt like a punch in the lungs, a pressure in her chest. One of her hands flew there and pulled down the top of the dress, revealing no boobs, but an island of pink feathers sprouting between her hard nipples.
“Goddess…!” she groaned.
She had heard it.
A zipping snap only for her ears.
That stinging sensation hadn't occurred in her heart, but inside her dangling ball sack. Her balls, she didn’t feel them anymore, as if they had been detached… but she still felt a weight in the skin-sack…
Two to be exact, a pair of hard ovaloid pressures.
Like…
Augusta gulped.
“E-Eeeggs…” she shivered.
One hand grabbed her cock and began to pump it as she lowered her body, the other arm was stretched. Augusta seemed absent, as if the crowd was no longer there, as she saw a membrane growing between the fingers of her free hand, her long pink nails fading and the whole appendage clustering into a skinny flipper.
Her attention was diverted from that back to her erection.
She realized what was coming next before it hit.
The pushing.
“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIIIIIIIIK!”
Augusta’s neck grew a few inches as the first of the two eggs began to climb her phallus.
Sweaty and with tears in the corners of her eyes she squatted and kept massaging her phallus as the oval shape slid along it towards the only exit. She clearly saw the egg deforming her manhood from the inside, the male flesh completely giving up without a fight to the female urge to lay.
Pointing her cock towards the floor she helped the egg travel to its destination, tenderly pushing from behind, slightly scared of pressing too hard and breaking the shell inside the canal.
She moaned loudly.
“Aaaaaah! AAAA-AAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Her neck kept growing, longer and thinner, as the pushing made her flustered, her makeup ran amok and melted with the tears and the sweat. The head of her phallus was swollen, she held her breath and inflated her cheeks.
“MMMMMMPFHHHHHHHHH!”
In a swift move Augusta stopped masturbating and put her hand under the tip of the swollen penis.
A wide tail of feathers burst out of her ass.
Plop!
Gasping she raised her arm, feathers growing from the back, holding up a big white egg.
“Y-YUUUUIK wouldn’t seeee tis’ trick in a magic show!” she grinned.
Clapping.
Augusta threw the egg to the floor, it smashed and broke.
Her cock had been left dangling down, irreparably widened by the egg-laying, a gaping birthing hole at the end of a shrinking fleshy tube. She touched the leaking opening with a hand that was now the beginnings of a wing.
A pinch of pleasure.
“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAK!”
Feebly, she tried to remove her dress, but only barely managed to pull out one of the half-wing-limbs. Both legs were completely birdlike now, knees seemed to be reversed as she spread to lay the second egg.
It was easier than the first.
“Uiiiih! UIIIIIII!”
Plop!
She had the illusion of being taller despite the gradual loss of height, her elongated neck could bend and stretch in freaky inhuman ways and so she did to give a look between her legs.
Her ballsack’s empty diminishing skin disappeared into the plumage. When the remains of her manhood was just a wide hole it shivered, as did her butthole, sealing as her buttocks vanished as the bone reshaped and her former penis became a female avian cloaca.
Augusta could no longer conjure other words than a flamingo-gurgle.
The bird-diva lifted her neck, flapped her forming wings, tapped the floor a couple of times with her three-toed webbed feet… and slipped on the yolk of an egg.
For the second time in a show she fell onto her ass, something that had never happened once in all her decades of wearing heels. Her torso collapsed on top of her hips as she squealed on the floor, her body no longer recognizable as human, feathers climbing up her neck.
The three princesses walked onto the stage and rushed to aid the flamingo-woman, they kneeled around Augusta and helped her undress. The Drag Queen wanted to tell them thanks, but the princesses stopped her, there was no need for such a thing.
Skyler and Duran were rushing to climb the stairs that led to the metallic catwalk above the rows of seats.
Once the clothes were out of the way one of the princesses tied a bracelet around the flamingo’s legs, they left the clothes on the floor, helped the bird stand and then moved away, giving her all the space she needed.
Augusta the flamingo stood once again, only her face remained vaguely human, her body squeezed into the cuter but graceful form of her kind. She stretched her thin pink neck towards the public
“UIIIIIIIIK! WAAAAAAAAAAAIK! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIUK!”
She groaned and gurgled, squawked and croaked and honked as her face deformed and reformed, reshaped into the domain of the avian. The skull shrunk and shifted, her brain overloaded with pleasure as her nose became more hook-like, hardening, becoming one with her lips, pushing forward, unrestrained.
The tip of the beak became pitch black, a sexual rush of panic as the eyes, painted pure yellow, reduced in size, and feathers completly covered every inch of skin.
The tingle of the changes ending.
The feathers around her cloaca were wet.
Her field of vision completely changed… but the audience…
The audience was still in front of her.
The flamingo raised her head, bent the leg with the jewelry and opened her wings gracefully. She cast a large wide shadow over the red curtains behind her.
She let out a loud caw and the wig dropped.
A female flamingo doing a pose.
It was followed by a shower of cheers.
Her vision was completed with the metamorphosis.
Almost.
On the catwalk, completely unknown by the audience who were enchanted by the events on stage, Duran, holding a long stick that ended in a hook, had opened a pair of ceiling windows. Skyler was holding onto the railings, looking at the radiant pink blur in the middle of the stage.
“You can do it…” he muttered.
Augusta knew it was time.
She couldn’t recite any more goodbyes, or any words for that matter, so she just made a perfect ballerina pose. Then she took a couple steps back, prepared herself and began to run towards the stage’s edge, flapping her wings.
The public held their breath.
The flamingo half-tripped once, but didn’t lose her momentum.
She reached the edge, leaped forward…
She flew.
Majestic
Graceful.
An awe inspiring sight. The pink phoenix passed through the air effortlessly above her enthusiastic audience, when she passed above the catwalk she cawed loudly and then, just like that, she was gone.
And the show was over.
Skyler and Duran saw her shadow vanish into the distant night sky. The last dress she ever wore lay on the stage floor, one of the princesses grabbed the wig and held it against her chest.
The three princesses, holding each other's hands, gave one last bow to the public , closing the show. After so much applause and acclaim the hands of the audience were a bit sore, but the conclusion deserved one last standing ovation.
Augusta Fragile wasn’t wrong, Flamenco Rosa was her greatest show ever
The best in the history of the Queer Theatre, a benchmark that would be hard to supass in the years to come. The review, the critics, even the video that was later uploaded to the online world… all of it was a thorough, undisputed success.
Not even Shift Inc. complained about the misuse of their products, especially when there was a sudden spike in demand for them to bring the Pink Plumage hydrating cream to the north.
