Switch Mitchell’s - Chapter 7 (Patreon)

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Mrs. Edwards drove up to Mitchell’s home and stopped to let him out. Mitchell stepped lady-like from the rear seat, then turned to speak. “Goodbye, Mrs. Edwards, I mean Sandra! Thank you for the ride home.” “You’re very welcome, dear. We have to hurry now, we still need to get Julie downtown in time for her date!” “Oh, Julie,” said Mitchell. “Don’t worry if Mitchell is a little late. Believe me, he’s really looking forward to tonight and he’ll be there!

You really do look gorgeous.” “I hope he thinks so,” said Julie. “I know he will.” “Michelle, you look so beautiful, it’s too bad you don’t have a date tonight!” said Nadia. “Thanks, bye, have fun!” said Mitchell as Mrs. Edwards drove off.

Then he turned and raced into the house. Hopefully, a shower would get rid of the makeup, and make his hair look normal again. Then he needed to get dressed, hopefully, he could borrow Mom’s car. It was going to be tight, getting to his date with Julie! “Michelle, you’re home,” said his mother.

Then she took a good look at Mitchell. “My goodness, you look amazing! Michelle, I’ve never seen you looking so glamorous!” “Thanks, Mom. I’m in a hurry.” Mitchell passed his mother, heading for the stairs. “By the way,” his mother called after him. “I gave your message to your brother.” Mitchell stopped halfway up the stairs and turned. “My, message?” “Yes, your message about Cheval Dégoûtant. You just missed him.

He looked almost as handsome as you look beautiful.” “Michelle, uh, I mean, Mitchell, has gone on my – his date, with Julie?” This was unbelievably bad! “Oh, was it a date? I thought he was supposed to meet you. He didn’t mention anyone named Julie.” “Yes, I mean no, I mean I, guess it doesn’t matter,” said Mitchell as he gathered his wits.

Finally, he decided to say, “Yes, I’m supposed to meet him there. A group of our friends are going. Mom, can I borrow the car?” “I’m afraid Mitchell already took it. You’ll have to get a ride somewhere else.” Who did he know who would be able to drive him? Brian Brentwood would probably come running to help Michelle, but he didn’t want to open that can of worms. Then he had an idea.

Mitchell dashed down the stairs to the kitchen phone and dialed. “Hey, Mitch!” said Steve, seeing the Everett name on the call display. Mitchell’s mother was standing right next to him. He couldn’t explain things to Steve, and now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Instead, he told him, “Steve, it’s not Mitchell. This is Michelle.” “Oh, right,” said Steve. “Mitch, I’m never going to fall for that one.” “Steve, I really am Michelle!” “Wait, are you serious? Who is this?”

“Steve, just shut up. I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t absolutely urgent. I need you to drive me downtown, to Cheval Dégoûtant.” “What, like a date?” “No, it definitely is not like a date.” “So you already have a date?’ “No, I don’t have a date. I just need you to drive me there.

And I need you to do it right now!” “Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes, my love!” “I am not your, hello?” Steve had already hung up. “Are you going to wear your silver dress?” asked his mother. She led him up the stairs to Michelle’s room as she continued, “I only ask because it’s been out in your room all day. I assume you set it out for your date with Steve?” “It’s not a date,” said Mitchell as he was led into his sister’s room.

The silver dress was where Michelle had left it, together with the matching strapless silver bra, on her dressing table chair. “Here, let me help you get changed,” said his mother, grabbing the bottom of his dress and lifting. “Mom!” he cried out, pushing his dress back down. “Now you don’t want to muss your pretty hair and makeup. Let me help you. Hands up Sweety, like a big girl.” Mitchell had no choice. He was trained from childhood to respond to a ‘Hands up Sweety’ command without fail, and so raised his hands as his mother lifted his dress up and over his head.

Standing in only a bra and panties in front of his mother, he turned away from her. She responded by quickly undoing the bra. “Come on, change your bra and we’ll get you into your pretty dress,” he was told. Mitchell kept his arms tight to his sides, his back to his mother, as he let the bra slide over his arms. He quickly picked up the silver one and covered his chest with it. His mother grabbed both sides from behind and did it up for him.

Then she held out the silver mini-dress for him to put on. Mitchell lifted his arms, and his mother slid the dress down them. She carefully guided it around his hair and makeup, adjusted it to his curves, and then helped him with the zipper. He sat on the bed and put on Michelle’s matching silver shoes with the three-inch heels. “Oh, Michelle,” his mother said as he stood and turned for her. “You look so pretty, I think I’m going to cry.” “Me too,” said Mitchell.

The doorbell rang. “It’s probably your date,” said his mother. “You stay here, don’t come down till I call for you!” “It’s not a date!” he yelled after her. “Mrs. Everett,” said Steve as she opened the door. He handed her a half-dozen red roses and said, “You look lovely this evening. These are for you.” “Oh, thank you, Steve,” she replied, obviously enjoying the flowers. “Michelle will be right down.” She turned to the stairs and called.

Mitchell appeared at the top of the stairs. He stepped carefully down the stairs in his heels, his face turning pink with embarrassment. “These are for you,” said Steve, as if in a dream, as he handed Mitchell a dozen red roses. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Mitchell, the girl of his dreams. “For our date.” “Um, thanks, Steve,” said Mitchell. “You didn’t have to do this. And it’s not a date.” He turned to his mother, just then noticing that she had received roses as well. “Oh, sheesh. Mom, could you take care of these for me?” “I’ll put them in a vase right away. Have fun, you two.” “Don’t worry,” said Steve as he walked Mitchell to his car. “This is going to be the best date of her life.” “It’s not a, oh, never mind,” said Mitchell as Steve helped him into the car. Michelle sat at her table in the restaurant and waited. And waited.

This was ridiculous. What was she doing here, dressed like Mitchell? She should never have gone along with this. Mitchell was probably somewhere having a good laugh at her expense. She had arrived at the restaurant exactly on time, 7:00. So she couldn’t have missed him.

There was a reservation for two, in Mitchell’s name, so for whatever insane reason Mitchell had decided to handle this situation here, in public, rather than at home. Her brother was an idiot. In the time since she had sat down, she had already chased away the Maitre D’, two waiters, and a wine steward.

Michelle felt as if everyone in the restaurant must be watching her, wondering why she was sitting alone, speculating on the reason, thinking how terrible it must be for ‘him’. They had no idea. Mitchell’s clothes were starting to aggravate her. She wasn’t used to the heavy materials, the thick jacket, bulky shoes, a tie tight around her neck, her pockets full of wallets and keys. She wanted her purse! She wanted her makeup! And most of all, she wanted her hair. This was too much. Michelle couldn’t wait any longer.

Five more minutes, she decided. Five more minutes, then if Mitchell doesn’t walk through those doors, she would walk right out. Michelle watched the doors, daring them to open and let Mitchell in. She had no idea what she would say when she saw him, where she would start, but she knew it was not going to be pretty. Michelle watched an older couple arrive. The Maitre D’ greeted them, and escorted them to a table. They looked at Michelle as they walked past.

This was humiliating. Michelle watched as a young woman arrived. No, not a woman, a teenage girl, younger than herself. She spoke to the woman at the front, who consulted the reservation list. “Man is she over-the-top,” thought Michelle to herself. “Who is she trying to impress?

Way too much makeup, the dress is too short and she’s trying to show cleavage she doesn’t even have.” The girl was led into the restaurant alone. “I hope her date shows up,” thought Michelle. “Before someone gets the bright idea to match us up.” Michelle looked back to the front of the restaurant, imagining how she would pounce on Mitchell as he appeared, throwing him to the ground and stomping him.

Michelle smiled. “Hi,” said someone nearby. “Um, hi?” she said again. Michelle turned from looking at the doors. Sitting across from her, at her table, was the slutty girl. Michelle just stared. “I’ve always wanted to come here,” the girl said nervously. She laughed and continued, “This is such a beautiful room. Have you seen this room?”

“Yes,” replied Michelle. “I’m in it.” The girl laughed. “Seriously, though, thank you so much for inviting me.” “Look, are you sure? I invited you?” The girl laughed again. “Well, I guess it was really Michelle.

Michelle arranged everything.” “No I didn’t,” said Michelle, then thought about it. “Wait, how do you know Michelle?” The girl laughed again. Her laugh was really starting to annoy Michelle. “My friend Nadia introduced us last night, but we’ve been, like, best friends ever since.

You wouldn’t believe the things we’ve been up to!” “Really,” said Michelle. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?” “I’m sorry, monsieur, mademoiselle,” said the Maitre D’. “But there is at least a two-hour wait.” “That’s alright,” said Steve. “Come, my love.

I know a nice place just down the block. Dark, romantic, fantastic Italian cuisine. Trust me, you are going to fall in love.” “Steve, would you please, just, shut up,” said Mitchell in exasperation. “Are you sure there isn’t a small table somewhere, by the kitchen?

By the bathroom?” “We have no such table,” replied the Maitre D’ with disdain. “Next time, might I suggest you consider making a reservation?” “Oh!” said Mitchell, his heavily made-up face brightening. “I did! I did make a reservation. It’s under the name of Mitchell Everett.” The Maitre D’ quickly scanned the reservations list. “Yes,” he said condescendingly. “There is a reservation in that name.

However, the Everett party has already arrived.” “Yes, we’re with them,” said Mitchell as he strode into the restaurant as quickly as he could in his three-inch heels. Which was actually pretty quick, as the Maitre D’ didn’t catch up until Mitchell had located Michelle and Julie. “Mademoiselle,” said the Maitre D’. “This reservation is for two.” “Yes, thanks,” said Mitchell. “We’ll need two more chairs.” Realizing the alternative was to cause a scene, the Maitre D’ called for two chairs to be brought to the small table.

Michelle and Julie moved close together to make room for the new chairs that were set up opposite them. Steve sat in one, while the Maitre D’ fussed over assisting Mitchell into his. “Mitch, dude,” said Steve. “What did you do to your hair?” Mitchell looked at his sister closely for the first time, and his mouth hung open at the sight of her chopped hair. “My hair!” he yelled. “I mean, your hair!

Our hair!” Michelle, for the first time today, was not at all concerned about her hair as she stared at her brother. “Who told you that you could wear that dress?” she said in outrage. “Your mother, that’s who!” shot back Mitchell. “Who told you that you could cut that hair?” “You think I wanted to look like this?” she shouted. “While you were going to parties and lounging in spas, I was going through hell!” “You don’t know what hell is until you’ve had your eyebrows ripped off your face!” yelled Mitchell. “Guys, guys,” said Steve, trying to calm the two.

“Mitchell, buddy, Michelle my love. Let’s just sit, okay? You’re starting to really freak out all the normal people.” Mitchell and Michelle looked around and noticed that indeed, everyone in the restaurant was staring. The two sat slowly and quietly.

When it was obvious that the fireworks had ended, the other patrons picked up their conversations where they had left off, and the restaurant returned to business as usual. “So, Mitchell,” said Mitchell in an attempt to make polite conversation with his sister. “I see you and Julie found each other.” “Is that her name?” said Michelle.

Then, seeing her brother prompting her to say more she added, “Yes, we’ve been having a lovely conversation about her day, your day together. I hope someone thought to take pictures.” “Nadia did,” said Julie, trying to join the strained conversation. “I told Julie that you really like her,” said Mitchell, hoping his sister would take a hint and cooperate, just once in her life. “Have you told her how beautiful she looks this evening?”

“No, no, I don’t think that ever came up,” said Michelle unreasonably. “Well,” said Mitchell. Slowly and carefully he hinted, “You do like her, very much, and you should tell her how beautiful she is.” Michelle thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, I do like her, very much.” Mitchell was visibly relieved to see his sister cooperating until she continued. “I like her as much as you like your date, Steve.” Michelle gave her brother a look that said, “You first.” Mitchell looked horrified and shook his head at her, the corkscrew curls in his hair swinging left and right.

Michelle just stared, until Mitchell relented and turned to Steve. “Steve,” he said reluctantly. Summoning up his courage he put a wide smile on his face and continued, “You look so handsome this evening.” Mitchell looked back at Michelle, who encouraged him to continue. “I’m having a wonderful evening with you, and I’m so glad you were able to join me.” “Thank you, Michelle,” Steve replied. “I knew you would eventually warm up to me.” Steve quickly leaned in toward Mitchell, grabbed him before he knew what was happening, and kissed him.

Mitchell squirmed and broke away, then turned to his sister. “Mitchell?” he said, with a look that suggested he wanted to wash his mouth. Michelle turned to Julie and said, “Julie, you really do look lovely this evening. I’m glad you were able to come, and I’ve been having a great time.” Mitchell stared at his sister. “That’s it?” he said in outrage. “Where’s the kiss? I kissed Steve, you have to kiss Julie!” “No,” said Michelle, with mocking laughter in her eyes. “That’s not the way I saw it.

It looked to me like Steve kissed you, not the other way around.” “Is that so?” said Mitchell, with all the indignation he could muster. “So do you think you can kiss Julie after this?” Mitchell grabbed Steve by his lapels and pulled him forward. Mitchell held Steve and kissed him intensely while Michelle and Julie watched in shock. “There,” said Mitchell, looking as if he wanted to spit out his tongue. “Now that was a kiss!” Michelle looked shocked, but only for a moment. There was fire in her eyes as she told Mitchell, “I think I know what you want.

You want something like this!” Michelle grabbed Julie, whose eyes went wide as Michelle held her in a passionate embrace, kissing her amorously. When Michelle finally let Julie go, Michelle said to Mitchell, “There! That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Mitchell was furious. He didn’t know why, and it would likely take a year of intense therapy to even begin to understand his emotions. Jealous of another man with Julie? Jealous of himself?

Furious with Michelle? It didn’t matter. He was beyond reason and only wanted to hurt Michelle as much as she had hurt him. “Not quite,” he fumed. “This is what I want!” Mitchell stood, then sat, straddling Steve in his chair, and told him, “Steve, you’re my new boyfriend!” Facing Steve, he leaned down and kissed him lustfully, holding him by his hair, his ears, anything to keep him from escaping. For his part, Steve flailed his arms and tried desperately to draw breath. “I think you’re really hoping for something more like this!” Michelle yelled back, as she dragged Julie from her chair and onto her lap. Michelle bent over Julie, holding her in her arms, kissing her wildly.

Brother and sister continued their respective kisses, watching each other to see who would give in first. They didn’t even notice the Maitre D’ until he uncharacteristically rapped on the table for their attention. “Please!” he called out. “Messieurs, mademoiselles, this is too much!” Mitchell and Michelle suddenly realized the spectacle they had become and released their respective dates. With everyone back in his or her proper seats, the Maitre D’ continued. “Should I bring the waiter to take your order?” he asked. Mitchell picked up his menu.

“I think we need a couple of minutes, thank you.” “Fine,” replied the Maitre D’. “You shall have a couple of minutes, and I will go turn up the air conditioning.” Everyone studied his or her menus in silence. After a few moments, Mitchell put down his and addressed the group. “I need to go to, uh, the … ladies’ room,” he said.

He tried to send a message with his eyes to Michelle across the table, but she wasn’t receiving it. “Oh!” said Julie, picking up on his hesitation. “Did you want me to come with you?” “Oh, gee, thanks, but no,” Mitchell told her. “Mitchell, could you please come with me?” Michelle looked around the group, and then realization dawned on her. “Yes! Of course.” She stood and followed her brother to the ladies’ room.

Steve and Julie watched in puzzlement. “What should I order for you?” was all Steve could think to ask. “It doesn’t matter,” replied Mitchell. “It’s all in French, anyway.” Mitchell and Michelle stood in the narrow hallway to the washrooms. “I want my dress!” whispered Michelle. “Well, I want my pants, but there’s not much we can do about it here,” answered Mitchell. “Yes there is,” she told him. “We’re changing clothes, right here, right now.” “What about my hair?” he asked. “It’ll look a bit odd if my hair suddenly grows a foot, don’t you think? And what about my hands?

I don’t have any polish remover,” he said, displaying his manicured, glossy red nails. “Tuck your hair in your collar. Keep your hands in your pockets. I don’t care! I want my dress, now!” “Agreed,” said Mitchell. He instinctively headed for the men’s room, while Michelle headed for the ladies’. “I’m not going in there,” said Michelle. “Well, I’m not going to come out of the ladies’ room dressed like a man!” said Mitchell.

The two stood facing each other defiantly, until an older man came down the hallway, eyed them suspiciously, then entered the men’s room. Mitchell and Michelle looked at each other. “Ladies’ room,” they said in unison. Michelle opened the door and held it for Mitchell to enter first. Michelle sighed with relief as she threw her jacket on the counter and loosened her tie. She had her pants half off before she noticed Mitchell. “A little help with this zipper, if you don’t mind,” he said.

Michelle stopped to help her brother with the zipper in the back of his dress. Mitchell shrugged his shoulders out of the dress and bent down to step out of it. Then the ladies’ room door opened. Mitchell and Michelle looked up to see a middle-aged woman enter the ladies' room. Mitchell was in front, bent over with his dress around his waist. Michelle was behind him, helping to pull the dress over his hips, her pants around her knees.

Michelle and Mitchell stared at the woman. The woman stared at Michelle and Mitchell. Finally, the woman screamed, running from the ladies’ room. Michelle and Mitchell could hear the woman as she ran down the hallway and into the restaurant, shouting, “Manager! Someone, call the manager!” Mitchell looked over his shoulder at his sister and said, “This isn’t going to work.” “Just what I was thinking,” replied Michelle.

Mitchell stood, pulled his dress back into place, and Michelle helped zip him up. Michelle pulled her pants back on, did up her belt, and grabbed her jacket. This only took seconds, but as they left the ladies’ room they found the Maitre D’ blocking their way. “The young lady can return to her table, for now,” said the Maitre D’, all hints of a French accent gone. Michelle tried to leave, until Mitchell said, “I think he meant me.” Mitchell passed the Maitre D’ sheepishly, leaving Michelle to face him alone.

“I know what it looks like,” she said. “But it’s not like that. You see, it was, her bra! It was snagged, on her dress. I had to help her; it would have been ruined. And she’s my sister! So you see, nothing happened.” “I believe you,” said the Maitre D’. Michelle didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. “You do?” was all she managed to say. “No,” replied the Maitre D’, and began walking with Michelle. “But it doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not.

You’ve been disrupting my restaurant all night, and you are no longer welcome. You are going to leave immediately, and if you don’t I will call the police to have you arrested. Is that clear?” Michelle and the Maitre D’ arrived at the front door. “Now wait a minute,” said Michelle. “What about my brother that is, my sister?”

“Your entire party will be joining you on the street as soon as I can arrange it. Please leave, now.” Michelle was shoved roughly out the door, stumbled down the front steps, and walked out to the side of the road. “This is the best thing that could have happened,” she thought as she straightened herself. “Now we can get in the car, drive home, and end this freak show.” A car was coming down the street toward Michelle.

The driver caught Michelle’s eye, and they stared at each other. She continued to watch as it drove down the street another fifty feet. Suddenly it slammed its brakes, and with a squeal of its tires reversed back to where Michelle was standing.

Jerry was on his way back to campus, with two of his buddies in the car. The team had had a game that afternoon and had lost miserably. A group of them had come into town to shoot pool and have some beers, neither of which had done anything for Jerry’s mood. It was still early, but the coach had said he expected everyone at practice tomorrow morning.

Anyone missing would be cut from the team. Coach was always saying things like that, but this time it sounded like maybe he meant it. Jerry decided not to take any chances, and so was heading back early. “Hey Jerry,” said Danno from the passenger seat. “Look at this freak, getting tossed out over here. Look at him stumbling around!” “Nice hair, freak,” said Gordy from the back seat. “Looks like a chick.” “Yeah,” added Danno.

He looked closer, then turned to Jerry. “Hey, looks like your girlfriend from last night!” Jerry looked up and watched the guy as he drove past. He continued to watch him in the rearview mirror, until recognition sunk in. Jerry slammed on the brakes and drove full-speed reverse until he was parallel with the guy.

He slammed the car into the park, cut the engine, and jumped out. “Are you that chick?” he yelled as he approached Michelle. She was so taken aback, she didn’t even move. Jerry was in front of her in seconds. “What?” she asked. By this time, Jerry’s friends were out of the car and had her surrounded. “Are you that chick?” Jerry yelled again, grabbing Michelle by the throat and slamming her up against the wall. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, panic starting to set in.

Jerry raised a massive fist, aimed directly at Michelle’s face. “Last chance,” he said. “Tell me – are you that chick?” Michelle was scared for her life now. In her own voice she cried out through her tears, “Please, you can’t hit me! I’m a girl!” Curiously, this didn’t have the effect she expected. Instead, her attacker went red with rage and roared as he picked her up by her collar and belt, tossing her overhand down the street. Michelle hit the ground and rolled a few times with her momentum. She had no idea if she had any broken bones, but she didn’t care at this point.

She stood and ran from her attackers as fast as she could move. “I knew it was him!” bellowed Jerry. “Get him!” Jerry and his two friends took off after Michelle, chasing her at full speed down the block and around the corner.

Nothing happened for about five seconds. The front door of the restaurant opened, and Mitchell, Steve, and Julie walked out to the street. They looked around. “So, where is he?” asked Julie. “The Maitre D’ said he’d be out here, waiting for us,” said Mitchell. “Here’s his jacket,” said Steve, picking it up from where Michelle had dropped it when she was first attacked. “He was acting very strange tonight,” said Julie. “He seemed like maybe he was upset about something.

Do you think he left without us?” “Steve, why don’t you go get the car?” suggested Mitchell. “Julie and I will wait here in case he comes back.” Steve went to get his car, while the two girls waited in front of the restaurant. “Do you think Mitchell is coming back?” asked Julie. “I don’t know,” said Mitchell. “He was a little upset like you said. But please give him another chance.

He’s not normally like this. And don’t worry; Steve and I will give you a ride home.” “Thanks, Michelle,” said Julie. “Actually, tonight was kind of fun, in spite of all the trouble. I didn’t know Mitchell had such a bad-boy streak in him. And Michelle, he is a really great kisser!”

Michelle managed to maintain her lead on the three men for several blocks. They were football players after all, and not used to having to exert themselves for more than five or six seconds at a time. However, she was beginning to tire, and looked desperately for someplace she could find help. Unfortunately, it was Sunday evening.