He left the stage, the cries of the tourists and the devoted echoing in his ears.
"Great set, Renee honey." said a large, black woman who was actually a man in drag.
"Oh, you're so perfect." cried an another woman wrapped in tarts glory...a suspicious looking adams apple visible.
"You're a living doll!!" squealed someone who looked like a Japanese Schoolgirl, though obviously was not.
"Thanks, dah-lings..." drawled the tall, theatrical-looked woman with the towering bouffant of blond and white. Her body was lushly padded in the hips and buttocks, cinched up tight at the waist and projecting like the dagmars of an old car up top. For all
her wild femininity, her shoulders were too broad...her chin too strong...her perfection was tinsel and glitter. She wasn't a she...she was Renee LaBeau - the Gambit Queen - the Queen of the Queens. His bodies faux-femininity was the product of genetics, excersize
and costume. Outside of his glittery gowns, opera gloves and exagerated high-heels, he looked like a very effete man with a large rearend and all the manerisms of a 50's movie starlet. But that was a side of himself that he rarely showed. Instead his whole
life was costumes, costumes and more costumes.
As he swished and flounced into his dressing room, her checked to make sure that his gigantic fake breasts (a pair of out-sized inserts that he stuffed into his bra) looked just right. Then he squeezed out of one outlandish outfit...and into another. This
one was a deep sea green covered with glitter and rhinestones, accentuated with diamond starbursts. Long white opera gloves with the fingers removed to flaunt his 2-inch long, blood red nails. Another huge wig, this one set in waves and cascades of blond majesty.
He stepped his hose-clad feet into glittery 6-inch stiletto heels, wrapped several feathe boas about his neck, and swished out and into the little pink corvette with the "LaBeau" vanity plates, and sped off for the mansion, his mind a buzz with weddings. Renee
LaBeau had designed Lolas gown, and was planning everything for the wedding. He also thought...thought of...that magnificent ass...because as effeminate as he was...Renee LaBeau was always a top. Under all his finery and glitter, a cock like a summer sausage
was lurking...and let out only when his lover needed it. Thank goodness...he needed it every night.
Because the Name Changer...had left another gift.
As Kitty screamed and Emalu bellowed, Peter Rasputan became confused. Why were these ladies argueing about him? He was a sweet, little dish...as big as he was, he was always such a sweet, little baby...and his clothes became a pink baby-T with "Hello Kitty"
in glitter, and an obscenely tight pair of pink denim shorts. He lost not an ounce of muscle as his body became smooth and hairless, calloused hands growing soft and long, glittery pink nails forming. Dainty rings formed, and jangling bracelets accentuated
the way he moved his hands and wrists - flouncy and whispy - and piercings formed in his nose...eyebrow...nipples...the head of his cock...many in his ears. His body language was all flippy, girlish cheerleader and swishy, simpering bottom. He reached back
and touched his large, plush ass. As muscular as his body was, his ass was thick, soft and plump as a pillow. He giggled in the high, breathy voice he'd always had. He minced and swished out of the room - his hair lightening till it became a platinum blond
mass of Marylin Monroe waves and flips held in place with mousse and aquanet. Peter...
Petra LaBeau wiggled and preened as his husband drove up, squealing in girlish glee "Hello, lover!" as he minced forward and showered Renee with kisses and hugs. Renee kissed back, the married couple gushing and giggling as they talked, hands touching each
other and fondling soft curves...tweaking hardening shafts. They swished and flounced back to their rooms for an epic night of love. Renee was mounted behind his husband, pumping his massive cock deep into Petras huge behind, and Petra was squealing and babbling
in delight. They never wanted to stop, and rare was the day when they didn't makeout in the halls of Xavier Mansion. They had important jobs, after all. Petra was the Mansions live in beautician - and when not being fucked by his husband, Petra was fussing
and gushing over the Xaviars hair and makeup. Renee handled the mansions interior design, turning the mansion into a showplace the equal of any palace. Granted, he did so through theft of international art treasures, but...Renee thought Charlez and Emma were
worth it. Renee and Petra were both loyal to the Xaviers, all but worshiping at the feet of the sisters. After all, the Xaviers had taken such good care of them.