Oscar Night by Jennifer Brock Last time, novelist/screenwriter David Fine and his girlfriend model Maritza Delgado attended a New Year's Eve party thrown by his friend fashion designer Claude Marsh, and later learned that Claude had organized a "cabal" of experts to help him get David into a gown at the Oscar ceremony. (A flippant comment to a fashion reporter at the previous year's event made him promise to wear one.) Claude was in the middle of showing him design ideas and had just said that David would need to accessorize with silicone before he passed out.

Part 10
When David regained consciousness, he was lying on the floor, his head cradled in Maritza’s lap. Claude was crouching a few feet away, fanning him with one of his design boards. He looked up into the concerned face of his girlfriend. “Sorry.”

“You’re okay. You had too many panics in a row and you fainted. You don’t need to feel sorry. We still love you anyway.” She gave him a little kiss on the forehead.

Claude brought David a glass of water. “I can go now, if you want me to, and we can continue this discussion later, or even never. If my ideas are going to stress you this much, it’s not worth it. I don’t want soothing my insulted ego to cost you your health.”

“No, we don’t have to stop. Just give me a minute to catch my breath and we can get back to what we were talking about. I just don’t deal well with too many surprises in a row. I’m supposed to take my anxiety medicine when I feel panic coming on, but I don’t like the way it saps my energy. I’ve been doing okay using meditation, but I’m not good enough to prevent sudden surprises.”

Claude was very concerned, because this was the first he’d heard of it. Maritza had dealt with David’s panic attacks, and while they still scared her she knew how to handle the situation. She helped him back on his feet and into his chair, then pulled her own chair closer to his, just in case.

David thought back to what triggered his fall. “So, you were about to try to talk me into getting implants?”

Claude got his presentation back in order. “Well, implants are one option, but really I was going to address the general issue of breast enhancement.” He flipped to his board that showed photos of beautiful women he said were actually male, or had been born male. He pointed to some of them on the left side. “This one, and this one, and I think this one mostly got their breasts through hormones. You probably don’t want to do that, and there isn’t time anyway. This one, this one, and I think all of these have implants, and probably some hormones, too.

“Now these over here take their breasts off at night when they turn back into men and go home. This one’s breasts are pure padding. You can tell because she isn’t trying to show any cleavage, and the way her dress is hanging, there doesn’t seem to be any weight to them. I don’t think we want to try that option. This one isn’t showing much flesh either, but her gown is draping better. She probably uses state-of-the-art silicone prosthetics that might be glued on, or might just be stuck in her bra. We could try something like that for you, but as you noticed, the Best Dressed actresses are usually sporting dramatic necklines.

“This one’s showing just a hint of cleavage, and it looks genuine. I think she’s using lingerie technology, like an ultimate push-up bra, to squeeze her fleshy man-chest into an approximation of the top of breasts, and then using a prosthetic to fill her cups. I think we might have done you a disservice. If you hadn’t lost that weight, you’d still have a doughy little set of moobs that could probably be contorted into a decent looking décolletage. But you lost the fat and we didn’t encourage you to bulk up, so you don’t even have a set of pecs we could squash. That option probably won’t work.

“Now this one over here appears to be showing a lot of breast, but it isn’t bare skin. The top of her dress is actually sheer material and you think you’re peeking at bare flesh beneath. I think she’s wearing a bigger appliance, that’s a full bust in latex or silicone, like you’d get from a special effects makeup artist. Now the problem with something like that would be if we tried to pretend it was bare skin, it might not photograph properly.

“Actual human skin has a degree of translucency to it that the fake stuff doesn’t duplicate exactly. In movies or stage performances, or even posed portraits like this one, they have full control over the lighting and can make sure it isn’t noticeable as artificial. When you’re walking down the red carpet, there will be swarms of paparazzi pointing flashbulbs of varying wattages at you from all different angles, and it’s highly likely someone would get an unflattering shot that would show how plastic your chest looked. Photographers are always getting pictures of starlets in dresses they thought were opaque, but became completely see-through under the right flash conditions.

“So as I see it, there’s two ways we can go. The first option would be I make a gown with a full-coverage bodice, and you go with falsies in your bra. The second option would be to do something like this gown, with a gauzy top over latex cleavage. Which of these sounds like something you’d want to try?”

Maritza was confused. “I thought you said implants were an option?”

“Well, they scared him so much he hyperventilated; I figured they were off the table.” He looked at David. “Are they still on the table? Would you seriously consider surgical alteration in order to prepare for a one-night event?”

David looked up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but...”

Maritza cooed in his ear, “But you’re wondering what it would be like if you did have your own breasts? So am I. I think you’d look really sexy.” She started fondling his left nipple through his silk shirt. “Remember when I went away and made you wear my undies?”

He nodded, and made a sound that might have been trying to be a word.

“Remember the time I told you to put on the top that matched your bottoms? Did you imagine how it would have felt if you had been able to fill it out?”

He had to admit he had, so he nodded again. He still hadn’t told her about the nightgown he’d borrowed and worn on Christmas. The idea of being able to wear something like that again but fit into it properly teased the back of his brain.

She didn’t want to force him into giving the answer she wanted to hear, so she tried a different approach. “Okay, now I want you to close your eyes.” He did. “Imagine that it’s the night of the big awards show and you’re all dressed up in your pretty gown, and your hair is perfect, and your makeup is flawless, and you are a vision of beauty. You walk down the red carpet in your high heels dazzling the press with your glamour, and showing whatshername that you can look like a gorgeous woman.”

She gave him a moment to think about that image before continuing. “Now after the show is over, I take you home. We share a glass of wine and a kiss, and I love the feel of your lipstick on mine. I unzip your gown and let it fall to the floor. You’re standing there in your sexy lingerie, your legs shining in silk stockings, your favorite lacy panties holding you in tight. I unhook your bra and you watch it slide off your arms and fall to the floor.” She took another dramatic pause. “Can you see it fall?”

“Yes.” Her soothing voice was almost hypnotic. He could see that moment very clearly.

“Now, when you saw it fall, were the cups filled with padding or false breasts, or was it just a thin wisp of fabric?”

“It was just silk and lace.”

“So if I bring my arms around to the front of your body, I would find your breasts?”

It took him a while to answer, and when he did it was a whispered “yes.”

“Am I touching a piece of rubber that’s been glued to your chest, or am I touching your actual skin, your flesh, your breast?”

Still softly, but with determination he answered, “You’re touching my breasts.” Wow. Not what he would have expected.

“Open your eyes.” He blinked a couple of times and then she kissed him. “There’s your answer.”

“How did you do that?”

“It’s a visualization technique one of the older models taught me for making decisions. You imagine the decision as already made and then bring it into focus so you know what your subconscious thingy truly wants.”

“So it seems like I’m curious enough to try.” He turned to Claude. “Do you know any doctors that I could talk to about the risk involved, and how long would I have to keep them before taking them out, and things like that?”

“Actually, one of the members of my cabal is a cosmetic surgeon. We were going to have him talk to you about getting some facial work done, but he can tell you about implants, too. Want me to call him?”

“Wait a minute — what facial work?”

“It’s nothing major, just a little softening here and there. He can explain it better that I can.” He pulled out his cell and made a call. “Good morning, this is Claude Marsh. Is there any room on Dr. Coleman’s schedule for a consult this afternoon? The patient’s name would be David Fine.” He put his hand over his phone and looked over at David. “Are you doing anything at three-twenty?”

“No, we’re free. You’re coming too, right?” He looked at Maritza and she nodded.

Claude uncovered his phone. “Thanks, that would be great! You have a nice day, too.” He hung up and put it back in his pocket. “It’s all set. Don’t be too nervous. We haven’t committed to any actual procedures yet. This is just a preliminary consultation.”

David still wasn’t sure. “Is it weird for a guy to wonder what it would be like to have breasts?”

“No, it’s not weird to wonder. It is weird to go through a surgical procedure to find out, but just because something is weird doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.”

Maritza gave him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “I think it’s an exciting idea, and if it means you’re weird, then I love weird!”

He felt better knowing that she thought it was just as intriguing an idea as he did. It would have almost been easier if she had just told him to do it instead of having to make his own decision, but at least he could rationalize it to himself that he was at least partially doing this for her.

For the rest of the afternoon, Claude showed them more specific gown designs. More correctly, he showed them to Maritza and David occasionally nodded in agreement with someone. Despite it being the business of the two people closest to him, fashion was still a world where he didn’t speak the language, and was totally lost. The other two would occasionally share a giggle about something, and it was tough trying not to imagine that they were laughing at him.

When three o’clock rolled around, Claude drove them to a fancy medical building in Beverly Hills. David wasn’t sure he could afford anyone who worked in a place that looked that expensive, and Claude told him not to worry; he’d cover the costs of whatever procedures David decided to get done; it would come out of his promotions budget, since David’s appearance at the awards would surely attract a lot of press attention, and any photos they took would be showing him in a Claude Marsh original.

The place was so upscale, there was a cute girl manning a desk in the lobby ready to answer questions, instead of just a sign listing everyone’s office number. Claude told her they were going to see Dr. Coleman up on the third floor, but thanked her for offering assistance. He must have used this doctor often, because he led them straight to the elevator.

Up on the third floor, there was another cute girl behind a desk. Claude told her they were Dr. Coleman’s three-twenty. She buzzed an intercom and talked to someone, and in a minute or so, a nurse in uniform showed up to take them to the doctor’s office.

It came as a surprise that Dr. Coleman was a familiar face. It was Ben, whom Maritza and David had met at Claude’s New Year’s party. They exchanged pleasantries, and David made sure to ask after his wife Evelyn, since she was a fan.

Rather than making him feel comfortable, having a doctor who wasn’t a complete stranger made David feel self-conscious. His first impulse was to run away, but with Claude and Maritza there he couldn’t do that. He felt a little trapped. He took a deep breath to center himself and began, “I’d like to know if I could get breast implants in time for the Academy Awards presentation.”

Dr. Ben answered, “I can answer your questions, but first I need to know that you’re not thinking of just getting your breasts done for the ceremony and then getting the implants taken out right away afterwards. It would be unethical for me to perform such a procedure. You are planning on keeping them for a considerable period of time, right?”

David could tell that he was being pushed to answer a certain way. He thought quickly and said, “Well, it was the awards that gave me the idea, but the more I thought about it, I realized that it could be good for my writing to spend some time having a feminine life, to be able to get more in touch with my female characters. Maybe I could even write a non-fiction book about my experiences; something like My Year as a Woman. If I commit to at least a year, would that keep you from crossing any ethical lines?”

“A year is reasonable. And that book sounds interesting. Reserve a first edition for Evelyn.”

“Of course, I could get them out early if there are medical complications, right?”

“Certainly. But implants are a lot safer these days than some of those horror shows from the past you may be remembering. Now, if you would please take off your top and come sit on this stool, I can see what we’ve got to work with.”

David unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to Maritza, then went to where the doctor had indicated. He gave David’s chest a good squeeze in a couple of places, and took a caliper and pinched him all around the area, and then brought out a measuring tape and measured around the top of his chest, the bottom and right at the nipple. He made a bunch of notes on his clipboard, and then posed David so he was sitting straight up with his arms at his sides and his chin up. He told him to hold still and look at a little blue light on the wall, and then a couple of different flashbulbs went off and something whirred.

David could get off the stool and go back to sit with the others and put his shirt on. Dr. Ben was behind his desk at a computer, and he swung a second screen around so they could see. It showed a photo of David from the front, and in profile. He had a little bit of definition in his chest, but not much.

The doctor said that his frame measurement was 38, and his current bra size would be 38AAA. His recent weight loss had left him with considerable elasticity in his skin, so there was room to go big. He did something on his side of the computer, and suddenly the picture of David had chubby little man-boobs. Ben said those would be a 38A; on a larger frame like his, an A was just too small.

He clicked around some more and then David’s breasts were bigger, a 38B. These actually looked female, but small. They were still kind of far apart and didn’t look like they’d make decent cleavage.

The 38C breasts looked like a good fit, with some potential cleavage. He kicked it up to a 38D and the cleavage was amazing, but they seemed a little too big. Ben tweaked it a little and they shrank, but not all the way to a C. He said this size would fit a C or a D bra, depending on the brand and style. A full-coverage bra would probably be more comfortable in a 38D, but they would be incredibly sexy in a 38C push-up.

Ideally, fresh implants shouldn’t be wearing any complicated bras for the first three months, but if they got them in as soon as possible, he could have almost a month before the big show, so he could get a reprieve for that one night.

Dr. Ben then went over the pros and cons of the different types of implants, and handed them samples they could touch to feel the difference. Claude was a little weirded out by the idea of touching a breast and passed, but Maritza even gave herself a squeeze to see which one felt the most real, and even let David try. They settled on a silicone implant, because the saline one felt too much like a water balloon. Saline was safer, but the newer silicone implants did not have the problems the older ones did. And if he was only looking at a year, it shouldn’t be enough time for anything to go wrong.

Ben then said that if David was really serious about wanting to look female, there were a few other procedures he’d recommend. He pointed out that the image on the screen didn’t really look like a woman; it looked like a man with breasts. He changed it so that it zoomed in and only showed from the shoulders up. The breasts were gone, and it was clearly David again.

He pointed out that if he showed a lot of cleavage, the eye would be drawn naturally up the throat, and there it would find a rather unfeminine Adam’s apple, and the illusion would be shattered. He recommended doing a “tracheal shave,” that would reduce the cartilage so his larynx wouldn’t stick out so much. He twiddled with his computer and David’s Adam’s apple disappeared.

He did warn David that there was a chance that if something went wrong he could lose his voice, but if done properly it wouldn’t have any impact on the pitch or tone of his vocal cords — he’d still need to train his voice if he wanted to sound like a woman. There were procedures for altering pitch, but Ben didn’t do them, or recommend them. They generally involved deliberately paralyzing part of the vocal cords.

The next masculine trait he pointed out in the picture was the squareness of David’s chin. He said there was a small procedure he could do to change the contour of the tip that would make all the difference. He made the computer give him a more pointed chin that didn’t stick out so far. Ben said the risks in this procedure were relatively minor, the same general risks that come with any surgery, and any time a general anesthesia is used.

The third change he wanted to make was on the forehead. He had David run his hand down his forehead to his eyebrows, and then do it again on Maritza. Men have a bone behind their eyebrows that push them forward. Ben wanted to reduce this bone on David. It didn’t seem to be a very dramatic change in the picture.

The final procedure he recommended was to raise the tip of his nose slightly and bring it back a bit. Nose jobs were so common in LA, he’d seem out of place without one, if he left his larger masculine nose intact. The computer changed the image’s nose, and even with all those differences, it still looked like David. If you didn’t know what changed, you’d never guess.

But then Ben zoomed the picture out so the breasts were there again, and this time the image was not a man with breasts, but a woman who needed help with her hair and makeup. He changed the screen so it showed the “breasts only” picture on the left and the “breasts and face” picture on the right, and there was clearly a difference.

They discussed the pros and cons for a little while, but in the end David turned to Ben and said, “Let’s do it. The whole thing. What do I have to do next?” It was kind of a crazy decision, but it felt like the right one. Maritza squeezed his hand.

The nurse came and took a blood sample, and then he had to fill out a form, and sign off that he was agreeing to all these operations. Ben called the hospital and found out that he could get an operating room as early as the next day. Would David need more time to think it over? He shook his head and bit the bullet.