Mr. Rudy

She couldn't help but see that pretty actress in the mirror whenever she looked. Tall, slim, long hair, large, blue eyes. If she'd had pointed ears, she would have looked exactly as the actress did in that movie epic.

But Liv wasn't an elvish princess, nor was she that actress. She simply looked like her.

Liv stood before the mirror, studying herself. She had just come from her morning shower and wore only a towel wrapped about her slender body, her hair, normally reaching the small of her back, was up in yet another towel. She would have smiled but could not. Unwrapping her towel, she let it slide to the floor around her feet. Her eyes went automatically to the place which held such disgust, such dishonor.

A small, limp penis hung from her hairless crotch and below and behind, a fleshy sac. She saw her testicles moving upward in the now chilled and shriveling scrotum and she reached quickly down and pushed these two parts of her down and back between her smooth thighs. She clamped them there and then stood straight again, looking at her now completely feminine appearance.

Still, she could not make herself smile. Stooping, she retrieved the towel at her feet, draped it over her shoulder and went to get dressed.

Tonight's show was for international vip's, and she still wanted a little more time to rehearse.

None of the other girls in the revue were jealous of Liv's naturally feminine appearance; there was good-natured ribbing and joking amongst them but they always laughed together. Each of them had their own stories, their own transformation tales and knew quite well Liv's own. It was an accident of birth that had caused the tall, dark-haired beauty to have the natural curves and contours of a true woman and the other dancers could never find it within themselves to make fun of their friend or to put her down in any way.

"You should do it, you know...." Angela said to Liv. They were both sitting at their dressing tables, putting on their makeup.

"Oh, not the ears thing again," Liv grumbled. Angela nodded into her mirror, eyes turned to Liv's reflection. "I'd look stupid."

"You'd look like her," Angela said. "Exactly like her."

"Who wants to? I mean, there's already one of her in the world; that should be enough."

Angela shook her head and looked back at herself, touching up some uneven powder on her cheek. "You know who I'd want to look like - if I could?"

Liv shook her head, now concentrating on her lashes.

"That girl from Psycho," Angela said.

"Janet Leigh?" Liv said. "Yes, she's just so completely gorgeous!"

"No, the other Psycho," Angela said. "The second one."

"Oh with that small little actress girl," Liv said. "Yah, she's adorably cute. Mixed race too. Her sister's in those horror and comedy movies now, right?" Angela nodded.

"Yah, her," she said. She sat back from the mirror to check her overall appearance, then leaned in again and picked up the lip gloss brush.

"If I had a choice," Liv said almost absently, "I wouldn't be so damned tall."

"Well, she's tall," Angela said, pouting to refine the line of her lips.

"Will you stop it with what's her name already?" Liv said rolling her eyes. "Geeze, you know?"

"So you'd be...how tall?" Angela asked. She sat back again and seemed satisfied with her work.

"Five-seven or something maybe," Liv said. "Maybe five-six? I really like how that Star Wars girl looks.

"Princess something or other?" Angela said. "She's tiny though. She's like five-one or something. Real petite."

"That would be me," Liv said. "And if nature would've made up her mind when I was born, that would've been even better I think." Liv felt a little warmth behind her eyes and quickly grabbed a tissue to blot any 'spills' up. She took a breath and calmed herself, then pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at Angela, who was now staring up at her.

"That would have been really neat," she said, and then she turned and left the dressing room. A few moments later there was the loud, thunderous sound of the intro music from the stage and Angela jumped up and ran out to get into place.

The extra rehearsal had given Liv a little more confidence. In general she wasn't as sure of herself as others were of themselves and tended to work harder at everything she did to compensate.

She sat now at the makeup table, patting perspiration from her brow. There was the normal happy chatter of the rest of the performers, but Liv felt quite alone. She stopped and sat back in her chair, staring at her reflection while she reflected. The rehearsal had been a good one, quite a workout, but at a certain point in her routine she had become somehow more aware of herself - of her breathing, her racing heart, and the rest of her body. The sense of self had been so strong she had almost lost her place in the music, and it remained with her for the rest of the rigorous hour of practice and run-throughs. It was with her even now as she sat there, contemplating who and what she was.

A sham, she thought to herself. Nothing but a look-alike. No originality. Nothing but a face like someone else's and a body to match. A woman who wasn't a woman. Not truly.

While others, especially her colleagues, paid vast amounts of money to keep up appearances or to sometimes change them permanently, Liv simple was what she had always been.

A freak!

The word stuck in her throat, almost as if in a scream. She remembered the taunting words, the faces, the laughter at her expense.

Not so long ago.

They'd called her that name - and many others - all through her young life. Then a hand touched her gently on the shoulder and she started and almost yelped.

"Don't be thinking all those dark thoughts, Long Legs," Liv's best friend Kate whispered. Liv turned her head and looked up the length of the pretty arm, to the face which was now beaming down at her. A smile spread across Kate's exquisitely made up face and it contagiously spread to Liv's own.

"I guess I was pouting again," Liv said, and Kate nodded.

"And on you, a pout just about breaks my heart," Kate whispered. Then there was a cheer and a clapping of hands from the other side of the dressing room, and Liv and Kate went to go see what had happened.

Shirley, the manager of the club, was standing there, beaming at everyone. She turned slowly, holding up the poster for the night's show. Everyone was represented but in the center was a picture of Liv, standing in her slinky silver side-slit evening gown, left leg exposed.

She hated that photo.

Shirley smiled directly at Liv and leaned closer.

"Mr. Madison requests a very special performance tonight, Liv," the older woman said, and Liv felt a wave of nausea go through her. Madison was the owner of the club. As the newest member of the troupe, Liv had been the most recent center of the old man's affections. She had performed fellatio on him directly after the first interview, but it was not the only time she had swallowed her pride as well as the man's rather copious amount of ejaculant. She nodded at Shirley and turned to go back to her table. "It's...it's not like that, sweety," Shirley added. Liv stopped and turned.

"Mr. Madison would like you to perform especially well for one of the guests tonight," Shirley said, and then turned and left the room. The other girls stood around, some still holding onto the new poster, all staring at Liv.

Liv finally returned to her chair and slumped in it. Tears welled in her eyes and she let them roll down her cheeks. The other girls left her alone, all of them quite familiar with how things went in their small little community.

As always, Liv knelt before the toilet, vomiting over and over again. It was just ten minutes before she was due to go onstage and it felt like everything she had ever eaten in her life was now coming out all at once. Another convulsive wave went through her but nothing came out. She was empty, done, through. Her face felt numb as did her fingers. She coughed and sniffled, tore a strip of toilet paper off the roll and sat back on her heels to wipe her mouth and nose.

"Baby-girl?" Kate asked through the stall door. "I'd ask you if you were alright, but I know you're not. Just...just try not to think of it, okay?" Liv nodded even knowing her friend couldn't see her. She nodded again, blew her nose, and staggered to her feet. She smoothed her hair, unlocked the door and came out. Kate looked worried.

"You look like shit, okay?" Kate said, rubbing Liv's shoulders. Liv nodded and allowed herself to be helped back to the makeup table. She sat and began putting her final makeup on. Then the feeling of weakness and dread left her. The stagefright that had always plagued her, even before her professional career had begun, began to drift away. Her hands worked purposefully, expertly, and in moments she stood tall. Undoing her robe, she took it off, laying it carefully over the back of the chair. Without a word she strode out of the dressing room, down the hall and made it to the stairs right as her music began to play. She took a breath, stepped out of her slippers and mounted the stairs, barefoot and nude but for an almost invisible catch-ring and filament which held her genitals up under her crotch and between her legs. The downbeat hit and Liv pranced out to center stage and began her routine.

The special guest felt a stirring in his crotch the moment the spotlight hit the new dancer. She was the spitting image of the actress he had so long cherished. His wealth was undeniable, expansive, but it was denied by the real actress not so long ago when he had had his people approach her and ask her to be a guest on his private island in the Caribbean for a weekend. She had refused the offer, somewhere in the six figure range, and the man had nodded in appreciation of her sense of self. Still, he longed to be with someone so fair, so lovely and sweet and now, through some chance of genetics and his network of watchers he would now have what he wanted.

Or as close an approximation as was possible.

Now his eyes fell to the girl-boy's bare feet and again the man's penis shifted and filled. He looked up the slender ankles and legs and thighs to the hips and the perfectly hairless V of the crotch. He knew what was between those perfect thighs but it did not matter.

His eyes lifted up the well toned belly and then held there as the entire body spun with the music. He gazed appreciatively at the roundness and femininity of the bare buttocks and wondered again how something like this could have ever happened. This was a male after all!

Now the dancer spun forward again and the man let his gaze wander up to the full breasts jiggling on the narrow chest. The nipples were pointed and excited, small and light brown against the almost milky white of the dancer's smooth skin.

And now the face.

He thought he might ejaculate simply sitting there looking at this perfect duplicate of his favorite actress. He could scarcely believe how exact this face matched his obsessively memorized images of the real thing - the real person.

And then the dancer's eyes met his and for a moment time seemed to stop. It was as if everyone else in the room, in the world in fact, froze and stopped to be. It was just himself and the girl, Liv. Then she smiled and the man felt his insides melting for her. He wanted her. He wanted to have his men clear the place out so he could be alone with this one. He would lay her on the stage and fuck her. No. She was too delicate and fresh and precious. He would...touch her. He would pet her and fondle her and kiss her perfect lips. He would make love to her gently and slowly, and then he would put himself into her and fuck her hard and fast and spurt into her. He would fill her to overflowing and would continue to spurt and gush and fill her. And when he was through, he would ask her to marry him. He would take her back to his island and make love to her all the time. He would rub her everywhere. He would rub himself on her gorgeous bare feet, or her legs or hips, under her arms, between her tits. He would have her completely and totally, and she would let him do all these things because he was rich.

Liv paused amidst the blaring, pumping music and squatted down low, balancing on the balls of her feet, facing the man. She watched as his eyed instantly dropped from her face down between her knees. She spread her knees ever so slightly, allowing a full view of what was there.

And now, in beat with the music but moving in slow motion, Liv leaned back on her hands and continued to lay backward until she was arched, knees wide, head back. And it was then that she felt her own erection stirring. It had never happened before because she had simply danced and been too absorbed in her own fears and feelings of worthlessness to feel the things she was feeling now.

And what she was feeling was alive. It was as if her whole life up to this point had been in a dream world, a haze of suppressed anger (at she did not know what) mixed with constant disappointment and desperation. Now all those other things seemed to slide off her like an old skin and she felt as though her entire body was speaking, speaking in some unheard and unknown language that even she did not understand completely. But the affect was that she felt free now, free from even herself. She turned on one hand, twisted her body and raised her one leg straight up in the air. She pointed her foot and then glanced over at her special guest. His eyes were glued to her foot. She could almost feel his stare moving gently up and down her foot from heel to toes and back again. Her foot, her leg, her entire body felt alive and humming with energy from within.

Then she waited for the next downbeat and rolled onto both knees, back to the rich man. She arched her back and shoved her ass out at him. She hoped he enjoyed the view but did not care if he did or not. She was now dancing for herself and didn't care what anyone thought. She spread her knees a little further apart and began to thrust herself back and forth, making sure her behind was being pushed directly at the man's startled face. She looked back around her shoulder and saw the wide-eyed expression of joy on his face and smiled back at him.

You're rich, I don't know you, and it doesn't matter! she thought to herself, and the realization of the power she had over this man's emotions, over his very life at this moment was intoxicating. She thought of the next part of her dance routine and decided it wasn't nearly enough. Standing, she turned to face the man, reached down, took off her genital restrain and let her small erection stand straight out before her. Without taking her eyes off the man, Liv strode down off the stage and went directly up to him. She stopped a mere three feet from him, eyes still locked with his, smile on her face. The man's bodyguards were already reaching into their jackets and trying to shield their boss, but he waved them away and they sat again, still staring suspiciously.

Liv smiled warmly at the man. After all she had nothing against him. And she wanted to please him. She now realized she enjoyed how he looked at her, how his eyes flickered up and down her front, how his brow was beaded with sweat. Then, hearing another section of the music start, Liv raised her arms over her head and began a slow, sensuous shimmy before him. She again felt an almost curtain-like sensation fall around her, as if she were alone in the world with only this man. She was dancing for him and he alone, nobody else. She began to writhe where she stood, feeling a tingling, humming sensation running throughout her body. Excitement filled her, expectation. She could even feel the soles of her feet tingling like this and even that only fed back into her and doubled the overall level of the feeling. Glancing down, she saw the proof of what she was feeling. Her penis was so stiff it seemed to jiggle rather than bounce or waggle before her. Without thinking, with no thought of where she was or what she was doing, she reached down, cupped her palm underneath her stiffness and lifted it up flat against her belly. She sighed, smiled, and continued to swivel her hips and pace back and forth to the music.

...it feels...so good...touching...here...mmm....

But then Liv's eyes flew open. She might ejaculate - right here and now in front of everyone. It had been six months since she'd last touched herself like this, during a night of desperate loneliness, and her whole body now felt as though it wanted to come gushing out the tip of her organ. She instantly took her firmly pressing hand away, turned and danced upstage again to give herself time to catch her breath and recover. But even the feeling of the air against her overly aroused shaft seemed to want to draw the fluids out of her. She made all of these actions look as though they were part of the routine, but in fact, she was in a panic.

Thoughts flashed on that night, that warm, still night, as she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

...warm, hot, moist, everywhere. Too hot...rubbing against the sheets, legs fidgeting, rubbing...turning over, pushing...pushing into the bed, the mattress. Pushing...chest pushing pressing, rubbing.

Liv remembered how she had been in that state between wakefulness and sleep, some tortured memory, some delicious fantasy (she could not remember that part) throbbing through her, and how she'd managed to squirm out of her nightgown. Naked, she had continued to writhe on the bed, one leg bending, her heel shoving the knotted sheets into her crotch, while her pelvis had continued to roll and push and lift, over and over again.

Now she stood in the glare of the lights, naked, barefoot, alone again. Alone in her inner misery, her thoughts and unfulfilled destiny. She would have frowned had she not been so well trained for the stage - even this stage - but the thought of destiny and how she had seemed to be cheated by it, not even given anything resembling it suddenly snapped her back to reality.

Pain always did.

She paused just a moment more until the music came to a familiar place. Raising her hands, she began to dance again, taking deep breaths still to calm herself, to let her body recover from the almost tragic mistake it had been pushing towards. With ballerina-like grace, she stooped to retrieve her 'covering' and with equal grace, she managed to put it on, turning and swirling to show everyone how it was done. When her erection was safely tucked up under her again, the timing was perfect and back on track. It ended and she bowed low at the waist, turned and left the stage.

The applause she heard was a distant echo as she padded back down the cold hall to the dressing room. She stepped into the familiar warmth and glare of the dressing room, went to her table and sat before the mirror. Staring at her reflection, she wondered if the woman whom she so precisely resembled ever had nights like these.

"...well of course not, silly," Liv whispered to the mirror. "She doesn't have to be anybody but herself...."

Her musings were soon cut off.

"Liv?" a deep male voice spoke. Liv instantly recognized it as the big boss, Mr. Madison. She turned to look at the doorway, a quick smile already placed on her face. "This is...this is our special guest...." Liv stood to face the man she'd seen in the audience, allowing him ample opportunity to view her fully. She saw his eyes flicker downward and then back up and she had a practiced warm smile to greet him when he did. She broadened her smile and bowed slightly at the waist.

"I'm so honored, sir," she said, wondering if he would leave any marks or bruises when he was done with her. The man's smile was terrible. It was as though he beheld some luminous being instead of the star attraction at a rather underground nightclub.