Judge not, that ye be not judged…
Floyd Smythe was the son of a Evangelical Pentecostal preacher and lived a very sheltered life. Certainly concepts such as alternate lifestyles and modern Western expressiveness were forbidden in his father’s house. No television, no movies, and certainly anything to do with sex was taboo.
Even after Floyd wed (in a prearranged match), he was expected to raise his son Josiah in a proper, restrictive manner. But down deep, Floyd believed that he was a she. But in the Appalachian Highlands coven in which he lived with his kin, he dared not speak of his plight.
A few years later, and his bride passed away from trying to give birth, and months later, he noticed his golden haired son wearing his mother’s scarf and he had wrapped a towel around his waist like a sarong. Did Josiah share Floyd’s belief that he was a girl in a boys’ body?
Wilma thought that Josiah was exceptionally pretty for a young boy, and she noticed that Floyd also had fair, almost female features.
One day she caught Floyd as he fumbled his way through applying lipstick. He tearfully confessed his desires and what he saw in his son, and was ready to say goodbye to Wilma, but she surprised him by sitting them both down for a couple of makeovers and what she called “girl talk.”
Flash forward 17 years later – Floyd, now Frida is co-owner of Wilma’s salon, where she works as a stylist with her son who is now her daughter, Jodi.
Wilma’s salon was Music City’s favorite beauty destination for the local T-girls, who all pitched in with helping our heroines acquire hormones, clothes, plastic surgery, and even helped teach them cosmetology. They also taught the new mom and daughter about the joy of being beautiful and female – especially sex.
This week, Frida and Jodi are spending 2 hedonistic weeks in Florida with their biker boyfriends. Wearing bikinis all day, and pleasing their lovers all night. The tyranny of their upbringing is now a memory…