Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Rosemary.

At fifty-five, Fred had no home. There was an address where his bills and other correspondence were coming. But the address wasn’t his home.

He had no family, either. Some people thought they were his family, but they weren’t. He hadn’t had any family since he was five.

Since that time, Fred knew he wasn’t him. Since the time he was five, he knew he was a girl. He didn’t want to be a girl, but he was. Fifty years later, Fred still was a five-year-old girl. He was denied the way to grow up as a girl. He was stuck there.

Fred thought of himself as a pervert, because what man will think he was a girl. He didn’t want to stay in contact for a long time with other people, because they would see.

He was the technical supervisor of NUR Macro Printers’ Northeastern division. ‘Technical supervisor’ sounded important. In reality, he was a technician solving all possible mechanical, computer, chemical problems. Sometimes those were even design questions.

He never stayed more than a week in one place. No matter where he was, it was thousands of miles away from his parents’ home in South Dakota. It suited Fred.

Sometimes a day or two; even three went by without a call.

Fred used the free time for window shopping, but men weren’t supposed to be window shopping. He strode at a steady pace through the mall and shopping arcade as if he had the aim to get somewhere. He stayed for a few minutes in a store where men were normal, and then he returned as before and checked windows on his way.

Some stores were for both ladies and men, and he liked them. He tried to spend as much time there as was possible. The time was enough to make a choice. Then he needed to try something on and buy it, or go looking for another piece.

Fred was in Baltimore and he was waiting for some printer parts to be shipped directly from Israel.

While he was waiting, he went to one of Baltimore’s malls. After walking its back and forth, he noticed a store with a sign “Huggles Intl”. It sounded odd; almost eccentric. It had only one window beside the entrance door that had an assortment of various stuffed animals. Fred had an urge to enter but… What a normal man his age would do or buy in such a store if he wasn’t a pervert. Well, he could be the grandfather looking for the present for his grandchildren. But Fred wasn’t grandfather. He wasn’t even a father because he wasn’t married. Fred believed everyone would see he was buying a stuffed animal for himself.

Maybe later, but not today.

When he was a kid the only animal he possessed was a crocodile. Not an alligator but a crocodile. Because its nose wasn’t round. It was rather frightening, and in no way was it cute. Maybe it was ok for a boy, but he wasn’t a boy.

The ordered spare parts came in the morning of the next day. Then Fred had more calls waiting for his attention and he left Baltimore. He didn’t go back to the mall and didn’t enter the store under the sign “Huggles Intl” although he was almost ready to.

While he had another two days free he checked out another mall.

He found a small clothing store. It had only one changing room, and one had to wait in line to try things on. There weren’t very many customers. Including Fred, there was a woman in her late fifties or early sixties and the saleslady.

He was looking for a tee. Just a tee, but it had to meet his conditions. First, it had to be without pictures or slogans. Second, it hadn’t to be a bright color. Third, its neck had to be a little wider than a regular crew neck. Fourth, the material had to be softer than cotton.

Fred found a few shirts he liked and wanted to try on but the changing room was occupied by the woman, who was trying on dresses. She was alone, so she was coming out of the room in a new dress, asking the saleslady for her opinion. The salesperson usually wasn't the best advisor.

So there was the woman in a dress facing both the saleslady and Fred, who was waiting in line.

“What do you think?” the woman asked.

“Mmmm…” said the saleslady.

“Absolutely not your color,” said Fred, and both women stared at him. The dress was in autumn colors in some fine geometric pattern. It was nice but it had short sleeves and was somewhat loose in the bodice. It was mid calf length and would work for an older woman who wanted to hide flaws in her body shape.

“My eyes are brown,” complained the woman.

Fred squinted to look intensely at the woman’s eyes. “Ah, yes. So what?”

“Don’t they match?” the woman asked.

Fred just shrugged. Then he added, “The style definitely doesn’t suit you.”

“What?” The woman seemed shocked. “But it has to be a dress. I was told it has to be a dress… I’m sixty, it can’t be girly…”

Fred turned to the saleslady, “You are the professional here. Athletic style dress in shades of steel-blue and silver. May I try my tees on now?”

Fred tried his selection and went to pay for two that suited best. He had to wait because the saleslady was with the woman looking for another dress. They found something at last, and the woman went to change. The saleslady came to the cash register.

“Will you wait for the lady to change?” she asked. “We want your opinion.”

A few minutes later the woman emerged from the changing room. She was in a shirt dress. It was button-down (or button-up, Fred wasn’t sure what direction was right). The color was light steel-blue. It was knee-length and the sleeves reached below the elbows and they were kind of rolled up. The top button wasn’t done and there was a hint of cleavage. Only a hint. It had a narrow black leather belt showing a narrow waist and enhancing the otherwise modest breasts.

“The only minor complaint would be the leather belt. A strap of the same…” Fred didn’t finish because the woman interrupted him.

“Wasn’t I right?” she exclaimed and tied the material strap instead of the belt.

Both the saleslady and Fred gave her thumbs up. The woman looked younger than her sixty. How much younger wasn’t the question of great importance.

“You’re lucky you’re a man,” she sighed.

“Are you unlucky to be a woman?”

Fred’s grandparents lived with the rest of the family in the same home when Fred was a kid. They were of German ancestry and they spoke German when they were home. German nursery rhymes and fairy tales and stories were commonplace. Only later did Fred and his siblings started reading English books.

Fred’s company was facing a problem with yellow color. It was yolk yellow previously and now it was changed into a lemon yellow. The looks of all new billboards had changed significantly.

The head office said their former supplier had gone bankrupt and the color they were supplying was the only yellow that was weather resistant. Regional offices were free to find their supplier. After some investigation, Fred found them in Halberstadt. The city’s in Germany. Well, it’s in the Harz.

As a kid, Fred knew two regions in Germany where the vast majority of all fairy tales took place. Those were Harz and Schwarzwald, so he wasn’t reluctant to fly overseas, and after solving his business problem, visit the Harz.

All agreements and supplying plans were signed and Fred had two days until his booked flight home. He went to Wernigerode, the city where almost every street looked built after a picture in a fairy tale book.

He was sitting at a table of a street café sipping his drink, and just enjoying being there.

Down the street, a brand new shining Escalade stopped and its door opened. At the same moment, the previously quiet street was filled with marching music of “Eins, zwei, Polizei.” Fred instinctively turned to the sound and there on the opposite side of the street was a store under the sign “Huggles Intl”.

“Sieben, acht, gute Nacht,” the music blared and Fred continued in his mind, “Neun, zehn, Kapitän,” as he remembered this rhyme from his childhood. But the song instead was again “Eins, zwei, Polizei.”

Fred would never come here again, so why not enter the store and let himself look at all those stuffed animals. Why not? “Fünf, sechs, alte Hex”.

He opened the door and the bell rang. As he closed the door the street noise was muted completely. Inside there were the shelves filled with stuffed animals in all possible shapes and sizes. There was a sitting area of three armchairs and there was a counter with a cash register and a salesman behind it.

The man had a name tag ‘Tim’. The man was young or he looked young. Fred had expected a woman or an older man but this man was young though Fred couldn’t say exactly.

Tim didn’t urge Fred. He didn’t say a word and just smiled a faint smile. He took an animal and handed it to Fred. It was an alligator. Symbolic, thought Fred. This one was soft round and cute. It was one foot long, the size good for hugging.

“You may try it here,” Tim motioned to the sitting area.

Fred sat in one of the armchairs and hugged the alligator. It was soft and huggable. There was music but Fred couldn’t say where it was coming from. It wasn’t the schlager from outside. It was a Bach violin suite and it was simple and heavenly at the same time.

The testing time was good, but everything good comes to an end. The alligator was perfect for hugging and just - perfect. Fred pushed himself forward for his dangling feet to reach the floor. He was on his own feet at last and he readjusted the hem of his dress because its hem rode up when he was pushing himself forward.

“Caroline! Here you are!” a young woman from behind him exclaimed. “Steven was right we’d find you at Huggles.”

Fred turned around and at the same instant, he knew he was Caroline; five-years-old, and the woman was the mommy. She had an older brother Steve and their daddy was in one of the military bases here.

Mommy paid for the alligator and all three of them: Mommy, Caroline, and the alligator left the store. Caroline turned around and glanced at Tim. Their stares met and Tim winked knowingly.

They were back on the street and the same song was still blaring “Ja, ja, ja, was ist das?” Steve and daddy were waiting there.

“Who’s your new friend?” daddy asked.

“His name is Fred,” Caroline declared.

“How do you know? Does HE say it to you?” Steve teased.

“Yes, he does!” Caroline retorted and stuck her tongue out at Steve.

“Ja, ja, ja, was ist los? Was ist das?” Escalade was still there roaring the song.

“Was ist los?” Caroline echoed teasingly. “Ich bin das Mädchen!”

“What next?” daddy asked.

“Window shopping,” Caroline offered.

“Girls!” both daddy and Steve groaned rolling their eyes.

“Boys!” mommy replied accompanied by Caroline’s giggle.

This story is my little “Thank you” to Monica Rose. Five years ago I was lost and she took me by hand and led me here to BCTS. My stories are her deed.