Lady of the Rings
by Brandy Dewinter and Ellen Hayes
(All rights reserved)
Chapter 10 - Take This Dress and Shove It
Build 5
The ride to Palm City went a lot faster than I expected. It was
about 3 hours, I think, but I was too busy to really pay attention.
Accepting a ride from Tom didn't stress me out like the ride from that
first beer truck driver since Tom was truly a nice guy. I'd called him
on that first little smirk at the table when I'd been hired by the circus
and ever since then he'd treated me with respect.
That could have made working with him pretty strained, but within
minutes my crazy sense of humor had run out of control when he lumped me
in with the "other girls" of the dog show. That had broken the ice be-
tween us, not in any boy-girl way (no way! not ever! never!) but just as
colleagues. Of course, it hadn't hurt that the dogs and I had hit if off
right away, especially Freya.
Which turned out to be a mixed blessing. Freya was my protector
now, and woe to any other pig that tried to hit on me. On the other
hand, it meant that I could do things with the dogs that previously only
Tom had been able to handle, like the things that made the trip seem
short.
First, all of the dogs needed to be bathed. Tom usually had to do
that just before the trip, or just after, and it always put him behind
schedule on setting up. Now that job fell to me so I plunged into the
task as soon as we hit the road.
Plunged was the operative word. Bathing the dogs in a moving RV
was an adventure. A wet adventure. The old Winnebago swayed with each
turn, with each gust of wind, and with each hill, usually all at the same
time, usually all in compounding directions that set the water in the tub
into tsunamis aimed directly at my face. By the time the dogs were
drying, I was soaked to the skin.
At least the knit shirt I'd scrounged from Sarah was a dark blue. If
it had been white, I'd have had to hide in the back until about Tuesday.
Actually, I hadn't scrounged anything. Sarah had provided it, along with
a few changes of underwear and another pair of blue jeans that fit even
better than the ones that Andreas had transformed for me, that is looser.
I never wore anything other than jeans or shorts, a shirt that could have
been a man's shirt except that it buttoned on the wrong side, and my
hiking shoes or athletic shoes. There was, of course, an exception, a
massive one - my show costume. That was way more than bad enough. Any-
way, in the clothes I was wearing I was still decent, only wet, so I
staggered in time with the sways of the RV until I was able to plop down
into the seat next to Tom.
"All done?" he asked with a grin. How different that friendly grin
was from the suggestive one he wore when I first saw him.
"All done in, more like," I sighed as I leaned back and relaxed.
"You have any trouble with knots in Star's hair when you combed
her out?" The professional tone was back in his voice.
"Comb?" Damnit. Up and at 'em, slacker. Tom didn't say that, of
course. At least, not with words but his look of sympathy at my weakness
was even worse. I stood up and went back to "the other girls" to start
the rest of the job.
Star was still pretty damp so I started with the Schnauzers. They
only needed their legs and beards brushed. That reminded me of my own
situation. Like I ever forgot for more than a couple of nanosecs at a
time, and that at 3:00 AM when I was asleep between nightmares.
I had finally learned to control the balance and motions of this
new body. I was even more graceful than before, though it was more a
thing of liquidity than power in motion. But I had never gotten accus-
tomed to shaving my legs. I wasn't even going to do it at all, but Sarah
insisted as part of maintaining my appearance for the circus act. When I
had first been transformed the one thing that seemed like an improvement
was that I didn't have to shave my face, but of course Andreas the Assas-
sinated (as soon as I saw him) had wrecked even the enjoyment of that by
infecting my life with feminine equivalents. The Schnauzers had thick
hair on their legs as well as beards and right now that seemed pre-
ferable.
I finished them quickly, ran a brush through Fluffie's curls, then
attacked Star's tangles. She was grateful for the attention but if I was
her, I'd have wanted all that long hair cut off just like I wanted to do
with mine. That was something I hadn't done, yet, though. I wore it in
a ponytail almost all the time, unless it was up in a bun under my cos-
tume's top hat. It was only when I let it down at night to wash it and
brush it that I hardly noticed it, and somehow that chore was relaxing
enough I'd just never gotten around to cutting it.
By the time Star's hair was silky smooth we were arriving at Palm
City. I hustled out the door, trailed by Freya of course, and hurried
to see where Jim Chandler was setting up the carousel. Some part of me
still believed that the solution to my riddle and the source of the first
ring was somehow connected with the merry-go-round.
Jim was just guiding the truck with the carousel into place. Not
too far away behind a low fence, Sara was moving the costume trailer into
its place as well, though why the costumes needed to be close to the
carousel was beyond me.
When he finished unhitching Jim looked at me and said, "Well, you
helped me take it apart. Think you know how to put it back together?"
"Mostly," I claimed. It was really pretty simple. The biggest
issue was remembering all the safety wire, but their locations were
obvious.
We worked in parallel for the rest of the day, making good progress.
The poor carousel looked as bedraggled as before, though, still missing
most of the fancy carvings.
"Did you tell me that we're supposed to get the refurbished pieces
of this thing soon?" I asked.
"I sure hope so," he sighed. "You know, when we first met I didn't
think you really liked this thing that much, but now you seem truly
interested."
"You know, you're right. I guess I like the sense of fantasy with-
out danger. It's relaxing. When I was a little kid, there was still a
thrill at just riding a horse as though I were controlling it. That
passed, but I still feel like it's magical, somehow."
"Magical? Not hardly," he snorted. "But it will be better when we
get the rest of the decorations in place."
By now it was getting dark and rather than crank up the midway
lights the circus troop decided to call it a night. Freya woke up from
where she had been dozing as soon as I started moving toward her, some
sort of perception alerting her to the difference between further work
movement and moving away. With her comforting escort I dutifully re-
ported to Sarah that I was headed for the dorm trailer. Once I was at
the door Freya wiggled her non-existent tail and then loped off toward
Tom's RV.
The other girls quit talking as soon as I entered so I knew they
were talking about me, as usual. I didn't care anymore. They could
think whatever they wanted about me, I wasn't going to join in their
giggles about boys (gag!) or clothes (barf!).
"My God, Britt, could you possible get any dirtier?" Amber never
called me Bree, I think she wanted the lack of a natural nickname
derived from Brittany to keep me from fitting in with the other girls.
"Oh, possibly," I snapped off. Eat me, bitch.
I realized I really was pretty filthy. The 'round needed a lot of
grease and a fair percentage had found its way onto me. Before that I
had gotten soaked washing the dogs, so everything looked pretty well-
used. Maybe Andreas the Abysmal had planned for this, too, when he was
teaching me more than I wanted to know about laundry. I was too tired to
even curse him properly and knew I had a lot to do before I went to bed.
Kim stood up and started moving toward me, an offer to help clear
in her eyes. I was too tired for tact though, so I sent her a look that
made it clear her presence was neither requested nor desired and turned
my back toward her as I bent to the drawer with my stuff. Behind me, I
could sense her hurt as she returned to her own bunk. Tough. I never
asked to be part of their little sorority, anyway.
In the end, it was just as well. I took my only clean clothes with
me when I went to the showers. Once again, the thick mass of hair seemed
too much to cope with until I started brushing and drying it. Then it
seemed comforting with a sort of repetitive pleasure that didn't take any
effort from my tired brain. I had brushed it more than it needed, well
past straight and into shine, when I roused myself. A quick tie with a
hair clip and I was ready to wash clothes. By the time I was done all
the other girls (God, how I hated saying "other" girls) were already in
bed. Kim was awake and watching as I went to my bunk, her eyes still
showing the hurt. By now I was a little more relaxed so I smiled an
apology at her and patted her hand as I went by. You could see the
relief in her shoulders as she smiled back. It seemed Amber wasn't the
only bitch tonight, but I didn't have to keep being one. I launched
myself to my upper bunk with casual disregard for the rocking motion
imparted to the neighboring bunks and was asleep before their complaints
reached my ears.
I didn't sleep for long, though. I had been feeling a little funny
all day and it continued into the night. I was sort of bloated and just
uncomfortable. It seemed like I'd barely doze off then realize I was
awake again, staring at the ceiling. Finally, about 4:30 I decided this
was another kata morning and got up to go work out. I finished with the
dawn, cleaned up, and got back to work. Tom had first priority and we
worked the act in the arena until the dogs were comfortable with their
new surroundings. Then it was off to the carousel for more manual labor.
At least I never got any grief from Sleazy Sam about slacking. One girl
had not been offered a chance to continue with the circus. Too lazy, Sam
said. Actually, the only girl I thought was a slacker was Amber who
never worked except at her act on the trapeze. Not that I minded. If
she was stupid enough to trust herself to the whims of a Russian's grip,
she was welcome to the job.
When I got to the carousel I found an army of packing crates scat-
tered around. Being a real rocket scientist (an experiment that caused
my parents to put a new roof on the garage), I figured out that these
must be the new decorations for the 'round.
"Hey, Bree, come look, the decorations arrived!" Well, not all of
us could be rocket scientists. Rocketry Guild rules, you know.
"Gee, Jim, who'd have ever guessed that's what they were?" As I
said it, I realized that a smart ass crack like that might have gotten
me pounded back when I was still Steve. It seemed girls could get away
with more and I knew I had gotten into the habit of taking advantage of
Jim. He was a nice guy but a little too much like the puppies I worked
with in my other carnie job.
Still, I was interested in seeing what the new 'round carvings
looked like so I stopped chewing my lip, grabbed a crowbar and started
unpacking. My first impression was that they were too nice for our (when
had it become "ours"?) old merry-go-round. They told a fantasy story of
knights in armor, ladies fair in flowing gowns and tall hats, and a nasty
old dragon that wrapped clear around the upper border. The worst of the
old horses had been replaced, some with new horses, but a few with small
dragons as well. The new horses were clearly copied from the knight's
steed, a brilliant white charger with fancy red and gold trappings. Ac-
tually, after looking at things more closely I realized there was only
one knight through all the scenes, and only one lady fair. It seemed we
had the traditional damsel in distress schtick going rather than a party.
Like a lot of closed communities, news traveled fast and everyone
in the circus had heard about the new goodies. A crowd had gathered as
we broke apart the crates. It was Sarah who first noticed how realistic
the carvings and paintings were.
"Look, the princess in the tall hat looks just like Brinny!"
"What? You're crazy," I blurted out.
"You know, you're right," Jim agreed with my female one-time friend
who I just knew was getting me into big trouble.
It wasn't an occasion for a vote, but if there had been one it would
have been pretty lopsided. The only two who didn't think I looked like
the princess were me and the one person I didn't want to agree with about
anything, Amber the trapezoid.
They tried to get me to pose near one of the pictures, but there
weren't enough of them to force me, especially since I had recovered
my martial arts. This was NOT going to happen.
Then it got worse. The "Colonel" walked up.
I found out from somewhere that his name was really Bill Halsey, but
everyone called him "the Colonel." I guess it's traditional. He was the
one that ran the place. He never seemed to be around except when some-
thing special was happening, and always seemed to be around at those
times. To my growing horror, this turned out to be one of the special
times.
"I agree, Brittany, I think you do look like that princess, or at
least you could," he mused. I didn't even know he knew my name, though
I should have expected it. I was a "performer" after all, even if I was
in an act consisting of (almost) all bitches.
Then he turned to Sarah and asked, "What do you think, Sarah, could
you fix her up?" He didn't ask me if I wanted to be "fixed up." It was
as though I was just a side of beef in a butcher shop. The only opinion
that mattered was that of the chef.
"Sure, she'd be perfect. What do you have in mind?"
"How about trying out one of those Disney things, where we have
characters walking around? Everyone can wear something from one of the
rides part time and their show costumes part time. Sign autographs, that
sort of thing. Can you do the other costumes, too?"
"Enough, I think, to make your point. Who will work the rides if
everyone is in costume?"
"Oh, they can work the rides while they're dressed up. If something
breaks down, we'll do what we need, but it should work most of the time.
How soon can you be ready?" the Colonel asked her.
Now it was a done deal; only the schedule remained to be determined.
I saw where this was heading and took a heading of my own for parts dis-
tant. That obscene showgirl getup was bad enough. I was not going to
parade around in a dress, for God's sake, and a stupid hat. It wasn't
any coincidence that the hats looked like dunce caps. Anyone who would
wear that sort of silliness certainly qualified as a dunce. Not me,
though. I didn't even know for sure that the ring was connected with the
circus. It was time to do a fast fade.
I almost made it. I was out of sight from the two plotters but not
out of mind, and not out of sight of the crowd. Just before I got far
enough away to pretend not to hear, the Colonel's voice boomed out,
"Brittany, come on over here."
"Shit!" I would still have run for it, but all of the sudden there
were twenty heads looking in my direction so I froze, then slowly walked
over to my new least-favorite person in the world, even worse than
Andreas the Antisocial. She was just as damned cheerful as ever.
"Come on into the trailer, Bree," Sarah waved. "I'll fix you right
up."
Just before I decided to chuck it all and run, the Colonel spoke
again. "Now, who should be her knight in shining armor? Jim, I think
you're elected."
My impending role in this little farce had made me angry. Jim was.
. . I don't know . . . more than embarrassed. It was as though he were
too excited to speak, yet shy at the same time. The snicker that ran
through the crowd was, for once, not directed at me, but it gave me the
worst shock yet.
No, that's not possible, nothing compared to losing my dick, but it
was at least the worst shock of the day. Once upon a time it would have
been the worst shock of my life, but now it was only the worst for the
day and if that doesn't tell you how far my life had degraded, I don't
know what would. For it was suddenly clear to me that Jim had a CRUSH
on me.
I wanted to die, I wanted to kill, I wanted to run, I wanted to do
anything but go into that trailer. Sarah had me by the arm, though, and
her implacable enthusiasm wouldn't even allow for the possibility of
reluctance. I was inside the trailer before I could get my feet planted
for a running start.
Somehow, when the crowd was no longer looking at me I could speak
again. I had been too shocked for words before, but I was getting
cranked up now. "I'm not wearing some damn dress!"
Jim looked like he thought my rejection of the dress had something
to do with him. Not really, he was just going to be my fucking knight
in shining armor. If the sappy grin that had been on his face had been
any indication, that's exactly what he wished for.
Exactly.
When I growled out my refusal, the stupid smile had been replaced
with puppy-dog sad eyes that would have melted the heart of a stone.
Well, my heart was so much colder than stone it should have frozen his
dick off clear across the room. I was about to snarl at him too, when
Sarah rode over my protest as though it were in a foreign language, which
I would have been glad to use if it would have helped.
"Now, now, don't make such a fuss, you'll look gorgeous. Didn't
I tell you that you'd look good in your other costume? Wasn't I right?"
Listen, you stupid bitch, I don't want to look gorgeous. I thought
it but her smile just disarmed the words. I couldn't get them out in
the face of her beaming certainty that this would be a happy thing.
"It's stupid," I insisted, not quite up to insulting her directly,
but I could attack the idea. It certainly needed attacking. And kil-
ling. And cremating beyond any potential for resurrection. "It'll be
hot, and clumsy, and get torn up before the first day is out." I
guarantee it.
"Not if you're careful. The skirts in the pictures are reasonably
slim so it won't be any worse than a long prom dress."
"I didn't wear a dress to the prom," I angrily denied.
They took it wrong, assuming that my anger was due to leftover
resentment because I hadn't been able to go to the prom. I had gone,
with Cindy, which is one of the reasons I put up with her weirdness (the
other reason was that she would put up with me at all). But I had worn a
tux, not a dress, you idiots! I wanted to shout it, but I knew it would
sound like a lie to get out of wearing the dress. I'd have lied in a
heartbeat but it wouldn't do any good. They had already decided I was to
be pitied for missing out on my prom and were going to give me this *won-
derful* chance to make up for what I'd missed. Any protests I would make
would only prove how important the loss of a chance to get all dressed up
for a prom had been to me.
"I don't know why you're complaining," Sarah rolled on. "Jim's
armor is going to be much more uncomfortable."
"Why do you want to do this to us?" I asked. She was normally such
a nice lady.
"It'll be fun!" she proclaimed. "Besides, you've got nothing to
complain about. All you have to do is look like a lady for a while."
All I have to do is look like a lady? All I have to do is escape
this nuthouse! Didn't she understand that was the last thing I wanted?
Why didn't we just forget the whole thing? I knew the answer. The
Colonel Had Spoken. Nothing would work except to show him how bad it
was and he rarely relented on one of his "special" ideas.
Sarah was back in charge, "Now, Jim, you take this box with your
costume in it over to your trailer and change. I want you to come di-
rectly back here for me to make sure you've got it adjusted right.
You'll probably need someone to help you."
She bustled him toward the door when I stopped her, "No! I'm still
not wearing a stupid dress."
That brought them to a halt, for a wonder. They looked like they
almost believed me, instead of treating me like a little girl they had
to humor with their words while actually ignoring. Sarah opened her
mouth to protest further, but it was Jim who actually spoke.
"Please, Bree, if not for me, then do it for the 'round."
I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with that termite-
ridden old carousel, but the words stuck in my throat. At some level
I knew what he meant. It wasn't just for him, or even the Colonel and
the circus, it was to honor all the people who had ever had a fantasy
lifted by the capering horses of the carousel. The look in his eyes told
me how cruel it would be to refuse, and told me of his absolute con-
fidence that I wasn't that cruel. Well, he was wrong. I fully intended
to be that cruel. It's just that I was saving it up for Andreas. That's
what it was. I just didn't want to waste my good, cruel ideas on Jim and
on the merry-go-round and what it represented. I just couldn't tell him
no. Instead, I sighed and looked down and added yet another item to the
list of compensations I would extract from Andreas' hide.
He smiled like I had just promised him a night of carnal pleasure,
no, more like I had just handed him an all day sucker (God, that was
even worse!) and hurried out of the trailer before I could change my
mind.
Which was a damned shame, because he missed a quick language lesson
in words not to say to foreign dignitaries. I missed him with the shoe
I threw, too. It was just a bad day all around.
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