FICLET: "Falling in with Professionals"
SERIES: Nr. 16 of the Boring!Orli series. Back to nr. 15 .

Author: Lobelia; [email protected]
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / all sorts

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Orli ran as fast as his naked feet would carry him across the hospital lawn. He sprinted down a nearby alley. He cavorted around a roundabout. He sallied over a footbridge. He held his breath and his side at the corner of the hospital morgue and the staff canteen. He lifted his face to the heavens and carolled sweetly to the new-born sun. He scurried through a tunnel. He found himself face to face with two women at the far end of a tiled and dingy underpass.

The air was fetid with the smell of fresh piss. A 20-watt bulb winked weakly at the trio below: one young man in white gown plus two middle-aged personages with bouffon hairdos, skirts the width of 1980s-neckties and lipstick that would make Rudolf's nose look pastel.

"So where do you think you're headin'?" one of the apparitions said in a harsh smoker's voice.

"Yeah," added the other, looking Orli up and down. "In nothin' but a little shirt on."

Orli took one deep breath, then burst out coughing because taking a deep breath had not been the best of ideas in such a dungeon as this, took another shallow breath, and confessed, delicate excitement flushing his cheeks:

"I'm running away."

"Oooh," said the left-hand woman, orange hair piled high.

"Oooh-er," said the right-hand woman, yellow ringlets tumbling past her cleavage.

"So you're not lookin' for a good time?" continued Orangina.

"By any chance?" added Yellowette.

"Look," said Orli, "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm a guy. Well, I am. Sort of. But not. And they want to do terrible things to me. They want to cut me up and cut me open..."

"Oh, poor lamb!" cried Orangina and touched her berouged cheeks with one 3-inch burgundy-dyed nail.

"Don't tell me they want to cut off your wiener, baby?" exclaimed the other one.

Then they both fell silent as Orli's gown fell open and revealed his smooth, flat chest, his nipples the size of one-pound coins, his bush of dark curls, and the swollen, just-licked, post-orgasmic delta of his labia.

"Oh my god," murmured Orangina and accidentally gouged a part of her cheek out with her sharply-filed talon.

"Now I've seen everythin'," breathed Yellowette and clawed at her ample bosom.

"They want to," said Orli and his cheeks flushed redder still while a feverish glint invaded his eyes, "cut it all out. They want to put back my dick, or something like that. But I'm telling you, I've never felt this good. This is making me feel like a whole new man. This is making me feel like nothing else before. This is... I'm not giving this up!"

"So..." said Orangina, trying to regain her voice.

"I say," croaked Yellowette.

"I mean," finished Orangina, "seein' you're runnin' away and all, why don't you..."

"Yes!" chimed in Yellowette, "Come along with us! There's always work for a... hm, person, like you around where we live!"

"We'll make it worth your while," said Orangina and winked.

"Oooh-er," said Yellowette, "I'll happily dish out freebies for a taste of this rare... thing."

"And we might even team you up with some others..."

"Who're down the line of chuffin' and changin'..."

"Know what we mean?"

"Say no more?"

So Orli, shoeless and hapless, light of heart and happy of luck, went along with the two ladies of the night to seek his fortune in the brave new world of the hotels and motels of their calling.

Back in the hospital, Royal Surgeon Brad Dourif M.D., Ph.D., Dipl.med., RPS/OOC-AU, held an X-Ray up to the lightbox on the wall of Room 403 and announced to the assembled and dumb-struck company, "Not to worry, gentlemen. Even without further intervention, the transgendermogrification process is due to begin reconstituting itself within 24 hours at the latest, and the mental imbalance effects should follow suit shortly thereafter. All we need to do is wait."

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[email protected]
19 October 2003

The story continues in nr. 17: Coming Again.

Back to nr. 15: Discovering that Girls Have More Fun.

All original parts of this story: © Lobelia

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