3 comments/ 8956 views/ 0 favorites Quinn By: jjcole I was a writer that had pretty much found her niche as an interviewer. I learned that people had no trouble opening up to a small freckled faced redhead with no discernible tits. My first hit interview was with a young chef whose food I liked. Her restaurant was doing OK but it was her struggle to be accepted as a woman chef that held the interview together. The article had ended up way to long for the features editors of the magazines I freelanced for so I posted the whole thing on my website. Within a week it was getting over a thousand discreet hits a day. By the second week a national women's magazine had bought the article and printed the whole thing, recipes included. After the article came out you could not get a reservation to her restaurant. I soon had lots of young and not so young chefs volunteering their time for me. One of my e-mails from that article was from a baseball player for our local MLB team. Pedro Quinn was not a superstar but he was an important part of the team. Fans shouted "Quinn" when he made a spectacular play in the field or stole a base. He was thirty-three years old, had won a gold glove and had been selected to an all-star game. He was a charismatic bachelor. Quinn wrote that his hobby was cooking and thanked me for getting the chefs recipes on-line. He wrote that he ate often at the restaurant I featured and agreed with everything I said except for the gumbo. He said his recipe for gumbo beat the chefs over and back. I wrote back that he had made a bold statement for somebody that had been thrown out twice in the same game trying to steal second. He challenged me to compare and invited me to his townhouse and take the taste test. I had to promise that if his was better I had to post that on my site. I wrote back that he had a deal if I could also interview him. He agreed. I was very happy over that, I finally had a shot of getting an article written up in a sports magazine. I was a sports junkie in general and a baseball junkie in particular. His townhouse was nicely furnished and tastefully decorated. I asked him if he had hired someone but he said he had done it himself. He lived alone. He took me into his kitchen and I saw that it was the kitchen of a serious cook. I had brought with me two cups of my friend's gumbo and he took them and poured them into a crock-pot to keep them warm. All of the prepped items were already neatly lined up and ready, some had tentacles, some were alive. After I had made a note of the items, (he did use okra), he started right into the roux. He talked as I wrote and immediately saw a difference in the recipes; he put lemon zest in the roux. He kept the roux at a latte shade then began assembling his gumbo in what he called an olla, a deep cast iron pot. I knew that his mother was from Puerto Rico and about half of the cooking terms he used were in Spanish, which he sometimes translated into English, sometimes not. He allowed the okra and fresh corn to cook for five minutes before he added the live crayfish and blue crabs, another five minutes before he added the oysters. He let it simmer for about twenty minutes as we talked about his cooking. "I assume it was your mother that that taught you to cook," I said. "Yes she did. She told me I would never go hungry or broke if I ended up with a girl that didn't cook. Dad played in the Puerto Rican winter league every year and that was were he met Mamy, Mom. When my dad was trying to make it to the major leagues we did not have much money and we lived everywhere, usually for just one year. We even lived in Japan. Mom adapted her cooking to take advantage of what was local and cheap. I learned that you can make a delicious dinner out of nearly anything, including octopus." "That is a fabulous culinary background to have," I said. "Yes it was but when I started to make real money I fell into the steak and lobster trap and have just recently gone back to the somewhat exotic and the familiar stuff. Once again my favorite meal is arroz con gandules and pernil." "Rice, pigeon peas, and pork roast?" "Exactly. Do you know some Spanish or have you eaten the dish?" "Both. I like it but found the whole meal depends on the flavor of the gandules." "True, I prefer the new green ones." "Do you make paella?" "My second favorite meal. I cook it when I have company. It is Mamy's favorite. She tells me she likes mine better than the one she makes but she only says that so she wont have to cook it." The gumbo was done so we took the restaurant's gumbo and his gumbo to the dining room and we dug in. I had to admit that his dish was the better of the two but it was not gumbo and I told him that. He reminded me that I had watched the whole process and I had seen him make gumbo. I told him I knew that but what I was tasting was not gumbo, it was something different. I reminded him that I did agree it was the better dish. He asked me, "If it's not gumbo then what is it." "I don't know. Pedro's Gumbo maybe." He gave me a big smile and said, "Pedro's Gumbo. I like it." As we settled into the interview I asked him questions that would not be in the teams press kit. "Your Dad played for ten years." "Yes, his career topped out at triple A. Dad had a September call up to the show once. He talked about his experience in the majors as if he had just visited a city of gold, El Dorado. He never made it back up and soon settled into a coaching and scouting career. He was killed in a car wreck while scouting in Santo Domingo. I had just been promoted from low A to high A when it happened. I was worthless that year and was a throw-in in a trade that winter. I was very depressed, about to quit baseball. But Mom reminded me that Dad's fondest wish was for me to make it to the big leagues. She said that she would appreciate it if I tried to honor his wish. That got me off my butt." "How old were you?" " Nineteen. That winter I got in touch with a friend of my Dad that was a coach for my new team. Coach Jimmy even paid my way to the spring training complex and worked me hard. He told the organization that I did not need to go back to Low A and they listened to him. I had a great year and was promoted to Double A before the year ended." "You spent a year in double A but you stayed in Triple A only two months and when they brought you up the team put you at second instead of short where you had played exclusively. How difficult was that?" "Very, very difficult. The team had lost its second baseman and decided that I would do just as good a job as the guys that were available for a lot less money. I was going to be sent back down when our regular came back. It seemed that the harder I tried the worse I got. It was not until the team brought in coach Jimmy for me that I finally began to get the footwork. I did not make an error after August and my mental mistakes almost dissapeared. Our regular second baseman had a major setback in his rehab from knee surgery so I finished the year in the bigs. I even led the team in steals." "Is it true you cried in the locker room after the two error inning?" Pedro sighed and asked me where I had heard that. "Coach Jimmy. He is my uncle. No, I have never told anyone and will not unless you tell me I can do so. Uncle Jimmy and I were fishing when he got the phone call from the assistant GM." "I love your uncle. He got me to the All-Star game." "And you took him to the All Star game. He has not stopped talking about it yet," I said. Quinn smiled and said, "My favorite memory of the game was when I took him out on the field with me during batting practice and about twenty guys ran to him to shake his hand and hug him. Two of the biggest stars in the game actually kissed him on the top of his baldhead. It was great." "You did not get in the game. Were you upset over that?" "Not the least. There was a future hall of famer at second and another on the bench. I knew going in that the only way I would get on the field would be to pinch run. The skip later apologized to me for not giving me the chance to do that, but I was OK with it. I figured I would get other chances." "Then you broke your leg. You lost a year and a half." "And two years after I made it back there are times that it really hurts. The pain sneaks up on me but it seldom happens at the ballpark. Unfortunately it happens often at night. Some mornings come before I have had any sleep." "Any animosity between you and Julio?" "No. But he does know that if given the chance and I can do it cleanly in a slide I will break his leg. Just kidding. Remember that his slide was so atrocious he dislocated his ankle and broke his wrist. He caught his spike just as he slid to the bag and his speed just vaulted him into the air over the bag and he landed on me in a heap. I remember that as he tumbled through the air on his way to me I wondered if he had destroyed his ankle. "Your game looks the same. Is it?" "No, I protect the leg when someone is barreling down on me at the bag. Some days I can't make it from first to third because I can't cut off the turn. And as everyone has pointed out I now dive in headfirst when I steal a base." "Is your leg making good progress?" "No. For the last eight months or so there been no progress at all. I was warned that a tibia heals slowly and will need another operation sooner or later but when I do I know it will be the end of my career. I am hoping for another two years. I have my money and so far I have been able to manage the pain." "To an outsider it looks like Julio's career ends in October. Has he said anything to you?" "No, he tells everyone the next operation will work but he knows it will not. He just turned thirty; he is not ready to give up the game. But he cannot swing the bat without expecting pain so he cuts his swing short, hits weak grounders to the infield. When he covers on a steal he sometimes picks up his glove before the ball gets to him to keep the runner from hitting his wrist. The ball ends up in center field." I commented that, "He was benched when their road trip brought them here. The talk was that the two of you would look for a way to hurt the other. The story sounded bogus to me and now I see that Julio has simply lost his starting job to the guy with no neck." "Julio was here with me all three nights. He was angry; he was depressed, he was confident he could get his job back. He spent the last night crying. He knows but can't accept it. All I could do was comfort him, give him my time." "And affection? I know you were his hero as he was coming up. I know you helped him out with that shooting incident at home. I know you coached him when he was moved to shortstop." "How do you know all this?" "Uncle Jimmy has been coaching in the winter leagues for years. He lives in Puerto Rico five months out of the year. He knows everybody and everybody tells him everything and sometimes he tells me because he knows I will not divulge secrets." "I was so comfortable talking to you I forgot you were media. I let in on a lot of secrets. I am not retracting anything but please make sure people understand that I do not blame Julio for anything. Try to be fair to him." "I am sure both of you will have a new legion of fans before long. Thanks for talking to me, and feeding me. Pedro's gumbo will have a new legion of fans too." "Thanks for saying that. Do you need tickets for the game tonight?" "No thanks, I have access to a club level suite from my cousin's company." "See you later then." "Yeah. But before I go I have one more question for you. I think I would prefer that you do not answer. Are you gay?" Pedro was stunned by the question and as I expected he did not answer. He could see that I already knew anyway. I stepped up to Pedro and kissed him on the cheek. "Julio is lucky to have you," I said. "If you need anything or just need to talk you know where to reach me." My article was snapped up by a major sports network's magazine. I focused the story on the aftermath of "the slide" and detailed the physical and mental pains that were still taking their toll. The sympathy and support for Julio and Pedro poured in. I portrayed them as friendly foes and hinted that the collision had made them good friends. The magazine even printed Pedro's gumbo recipe. He got raves for that too. Pedro called me his "favorite redhead" when my article was brought up by the media. We became close friends. He loved me, not for what I wrote but for what I did not write. He trusted me and I was in the middle of that winters turmoil with Julio after the next wrist operation produced no appreciable results. Julio retired before that start of next the season after accepting a settlement from the club on his remaining salary. He thanked me for making it possible, my story had restored his popularity and his team's only alternative, releasing the team's most popular player, would have been a public relations disaster. The team owed him three years of salary even if they released him but Julio did not want to be released, he thought he could not handle what he though would be the humiliation. But he would loose the money if he just retired. His club jumped at the suggestion to spread his money out over twenty years and allow him to retire. He would get his money and the team still had a public relations asset and some payroll relief. Both sides were happy. Of course Julio was a multi-millionaire anyway. Pedro retired the following winter right after his mother suffered a mild heart attack. When he got home he found Uncle Jimmy playing gin rummy with her on her hospital bed. She recovered nicely but Pedro refused to leave her side even though he knew Uncle Jimmy would be there for her, or maybe because of it. She would not leave Puerto Rico so Pedro sold his townhouse and moved back home. Shortly after that Julio followed suit. They opened a restaurant together that was an immediate success. They were sport heroes on the island so success was guaranteed. The day of the grand opening sports celebrities were everywhere and the photographers had a field day. I was there and reported it for newspapers and magazines in five countries. As always I included a recipe, Julio's Mofongo. Quinn This is a new style for me. Please be kind. The is the first in a new series. I have been wanting to branch out and try some new characters and genres. This is that. I hope you enjoy. If it is well received, then I will definitely continue it. I like this character and the ideas for the story. This first chapter is tame more about the life and change the any erotic interactions yet. They are coming though. Keep in mind this is amateur work. I received no compensation for providing this story: if I had I would have paid for an editor. As it is, I do it all myself. I proofread, but am human and may have missed some things. I still hope you can enjoy it. ***** It's no longer hard to admit I was probably not the son my Dad, Quentin, would have wanted. He was a big guy and very masculine. He worked at the lumber yard outside of town, but was killed in an accident shortly before my 4th birthday. I only have very vague memories of him. Mom assures me he was a good man and loved me with all his heart. Luckily, he had my brother, Quayd, first and he is manly enough. When Mom received her settlement from the lumberyard and Dad's life insurance, she decided to move away from Washington, to a warmer climate and we ended up in New Mexico. That's where I grew up. The heat didn't bother me, growing up in it after all, but the sun would burn me to a fine char if I stayed out playing too much. That kept me indoors and on my computers most of the time. Mom didn't have to work anymore, so she was able to dote on Quayd and me. Quayd takes after Dad. He is 6'2 200 pounds and nicely built to play the football that he loves. He is a tight end. He is only 4 years older than me, he looked after me growing up. He is protective and a great brother. His hair is reddish brown and his eyes are brown like Dad's were. I'm Quinn. I'm only 5'4 and small framed. My hair is blond and fine. When I tried to grow it out it, was very smooth and silky, girlish even, so I cut it short again. I have blue eyes and am very fair. My mother is German and, like her, I do not tan well. So, I spend a lot of time indoors. This has led to me remaining lithe and and willowy. I'm smart though and have made a good life through computers. All the time on computers and surfing porn led to some discoveries as I entered my later teens. I enjoyed the cross-dressing images and lady-boy attire sites, but I'll get back to that. Mom is Carol. She is 44 and fair as well. Blond hair to about her shoulder blades, and cobalt blue eyes and full blooded German. She is small framed too. I always thought that was odd for a German woman. They are always portrayed as big, almost mannish. Mom is anything but. Mom is the same height as I am sadly. She is a gorgeous lady and men have always complimented her on her beauty and wit. He body is compact and her boobs are firm and perky. She rarely wears a bra, if ever. She enjoys sundresses and skirts. She is very lady-like. It was just she and I in the house once Quayd had graduated at the end of my freshman year. He was going away to college at the University of Arizona. I no longer had my protector that sophomore year, and became a great target for the school's bullies. I skipped school a lot to avoid the confrontations and my grades suffered to the point of hopelessly flunking. They thought I could get a better start the following year and it would even be good for me, being the oldest in class. This just made me stupid as far as everyone was concerned. I tried to tough it out but after one too many beatings, Mom decided a change was needed. We talked about moving again. This time to Arizona. We would be closer to Quayd, again too. We moved to Arizona and found a beautiful house. Its out in the middle of nowhere and I had this sweet balcony room on the back of the house. It faced the gorgeous desert. Since I had to retake sophomore year, I turned 18 the summer before my junior year and Mom gave me the room with some privacy from the rest of the house. I began to go online and make purchases that would allow me to experiment with some ladies under things. I had a few pairs of panties and a couple night gowns even. I felt so free in these clothes. I knew this was weird, but with my body, they did look nice. There was down side to the new place though: the new school. Unfortunately the school for the district we lived in now was a bigger one. New school and built as I am, I was once again the perfect target for the bullies. I had remained light skinned and slender. My hair was fine and blond. The macho Latino boys loved picking on the little effeminate white kid.Plus I did not have any friends yet so I had no support group. After it was obvious I was a target, no one wanted to risk adding me to their social group. I was lonely and miserable for the whole year. It was worse than my first school. Mom suggested moving again until I stopped her. "I don't know that it will make any difference, Mom." I stated "I'll turn 19 right before school starts and I'll be senior. I don't want to deal with moving, a new school, college applications and all that for my final year of high school. Being like I am as a new senior won't make it any easier. I just have to tough it out for one more year. Maybe things will be different once I go to college. I could even go to college online if necessary." "Well, we'll think of something, honey," she promised. My transformation that I am about to tell you about began to take shape by my own carelessness. It was a beautiful April Saturday and Mom was out doing some shopping. I was home alone and decided to mess around on the computer. I was downstairs, in the main part of the house for a change and was enjoying the freedom of being in a cute bra and panty set I had ordered online. I had logged into the computer in the dining room and was looking at some of the lady-boy sites that I enjoyed and must have forgotten to log out. I was back upstairs and in regular boy clothes when Mom got home from shopping. "Quinn! Can you come down here, please," I heard her call from the bottom of the stairs. I came down, saying, "Sure, Mom. What's up?" "Care to explain this," she asked, pointing at the monitor. The screen was on the order form for some high heels, a gaff and bra set with inserts all in my sizes. I never clicked submit. "Is this what you are into? This is the kinda stuff you like," she asked. She didn't seem angry. More like curious. I tried to be evasive but staring down Mom was not going to work. Finally I came clean about my interests. Mom asked questions and I answered truthfully. It was like a weight was off to be honest about all this. She had me show her the stuff I already had. I brought it all down and showed her. "Are you gay," she asked. I think an obvious assumption on her part. "I don't think so. I still like girls, but I do enjoy guys too. I guess I'm probably bi-curious with stronger leanings toward bisexual." I tried to explain. "I experimented growing up, like all boys I imagine. Kissing guys was still enjoyable. I find girls pretty though and still arousing. Just not completely." Over the next few hours, we opened the lines of communication. Mom took it all in with the wonderful understanding and love I had been too afraid to expect. With Mom's coaxing, I even put some of it on for her. She told me how pretty I was and that I looked so natural in it. That's when Mom gave me her plan. Since, I was small and willowy anyway, plus the fact that I enjoyed the idea of dressing as a girl, we could take the next steps. She wouldn't need to change my name at all, and she would pay for me to transfer to the private school in the next town over and enroll me as a girl. Physically, I could pull it off with minimal effort. The mannerisms are all I would need to pick up. She asked how I felt about not using inserts and using hormones if we could make it happen. Since I was 18 and technically an adult, it would be up to me. She would support me whatever I chose. My head was spinning. A few hours ago, I was a computer nerd with a secret fetish. Now I was thinking about fully becoming a cross-dresser and possibly a transexual. Quayd was even way more accepting than I expected. We drove out there to pick him up for the summer. He was stunned by the new me, but I understand that Mom and he had a few longs talks before we got there. I wasn't even fully feminized yet. My hair wasn't that long, I still wore some more boyish clothes to make people think I might just be a tomboy.I think in his mind, he might have always kind of known I was different, but seeing me greet him as his "sister" now was a small shock nonetheless. Like I said, he is a great brother and a wonderful human being and accepted it. I was so proud of him for that. Now up until then, I considered myself bisexual mostly. I think that's because I was basing my attractions on high school guys. High school guys that like picking on small people. Seeing these college guys though, I realized where my attractions were: I liked men, not boys. Unfortunately, Quayd could not introduce me to his crowd as his sister because they all knew he had a brother named Quinn, not a sister. Since I was still in transition, we decided not to risk it yet. Actually I am the one that chickened out. This was only last part of May, so I had only just begun this change. "My little brother is gone. I feel like I have a little sister to take care of now. A cute one that's going to break hearts at that new school," he said and sounded proud. I saw something different in his eyes that i had never seen before and it gave me chills, good ones. "Quinn, you know I love you and will support you. Are you sure this is the way you want to go? You are starting to go down the path that has only one exit," he asked me seriously. I told him, "I don't think I would have been the son Dad would have wanted. I see you want to deny it, but what if I was never supposed to be. What if I should have been his daughter all along? Like a cosmic mistake that we can correct now. One that I feel comfortable fixing. I'm not being forced into this out of fear of being picked on. Mom isn't pressuring me either. It's what I want" He accepted that I was happy making this change. I was becoming a more confident person and more comfortable with the direction I was now going. School had let out in the beginning of May and over the next few months, my female training displayed serious results. The doctor had agreed with our assessment of the situation and my own desires, and had put me on a hormone regimen. I now have cute little A cup(about to go to a B cup) boobs. It also resulted in my needing to shave less. Not that it was ever really an issue, with my hair being so blonde and fine. My hair grew out smooth and silky as ever. I began keeping much most of body hairless with Nare and some waxing. I could walk in high heels, put on my own makeup and had my own thoughts on panties and clothing choices. I could look elegant and lady-like, tomboyish, or like the girl next door-whatever mood struck me. We sold my Cobalt and Mom bought me a VW Beetle convertible, she just thought it suited my new persona. I bought a couple purses and Mom got me some stuff to keep in them. I now had a pocketbook, gum, assorted make-up, and even tampons. Mom said these were a must to keep up appearances. Quayd stayed with us for the summer as usual. Mom talked me into several racier new bathing suits. Of course I had purchased a couple one piece suits, but Mom can be persuasive. They both commented how great I looked in the bikinis, whenever I wore one around our in ground pool. We bought them specifically for transexuals and it did a awesome job of keeping me from being exposed. I got bold enough to wear the bikini to the beach a few times and had plenty of looks from guys. I was surprised to see even Quayd's shorts tenting over the new me. I still had to be careful in the summer sun. The transition did nothing to make me tan better. We all got used to wear new dynamic of our family. By the time, summer was over, we were all comfortable with Quinn, the sister and daughter. Mom and I spent several weeks buying me a whole new wardrobe, new furniture for my room, had it redecorated and bought the car I mentioned; we could afford it. This resulted in new things for Quayd too. I didn't want to be the center of attention. Mom bought him a Jeep Wrangler and his room was always the small house out by the pool. She had that redecorated for him too. It's like a cute little apartment of his own and has two glass walls. He is the big brother, so I took my room and let him have that. He and I would take late nights swims, then head into his room to watch movies. I had a great summer and enjoyed the changes in myself. Quayd did too.I was finally looking forward to my new school. I was more than passable. I was extremely feminized. I went about most of the summer as a girl and by Mid-July I felt more comfortable as a petite girl than I ever did as a little guy. No one joked or pointed at me. No one realized there was anything amiss when I entered a ladies room. Quayd eventually moved most his things to a new apartment closer to the campus. He was starting a position as a Assistant Sports Therapist at the campus. He only needed a few credits for his bachelor degree in Sports Medicine. He did plan to continue with his schooling to get his Masters in Sports Medicine. It meant another two years of schooling, but he was hoping to eventually get on with the Arizona Cardinals someday. Eventually, the first day of school came and I was up at the crack of dawn getting ready. I had hardly slept a wink. I was so nervous, I went over everything more than once. I had being living as a girl since school let out in May. I was amazed at how easy it had become, but the nervousness was still there. I had toured the new school this summer and gotten the rundown of where my classes would be. It was a private school and the computer preparation courses were supposed to be better than college level. The first class, I was wreck, but no one screamed freak or thought anything out of the ordinary about the new girl. I had a study hall for third period and Becca was chosen to show me around. She was beautiful Latina. I had seen her in my first class too. . "So, how do you like it here so far'" she asked. I looked around, "It a nice school. I'm still getting used to the drive. I live closer to Mesa Verde, but Mom didn't like the school so she paid for me to go here." We chatted as she showed me where everything was located. She said, "This is the gym." There were couple boys playing dodge-ball when we walked in, "That's my boyfriend." She pointed to a cute guy with black hair and dark skin. He was the epitome of tall dark and handsome. He was sitting on the bench, having been hit, so she had a chance to introduce me. "Hector, this is Quinn," she said. He smiled, "Nice to meet ya. You're new here right?" "Yeah," I answered, "Is it that obvious?" "I didn't mean anything by it. I saw you when you pulled in. You have the beetle right? I was parked next to you." he told me. "Well, if you hang out with Becca, I'm sure I'll see ya 'round. I gotta go back in now." He hopped up and ran back into the game. The bell rang shortly after and Becca walked to fourth period with me. "He's a cutie, right," she asked smirking, "But hands off, chica. He's mine." We laughed as we went down the hall. I felt good. I was laughing in school. We had same class and she introduced me to a few of her friends. Carrie and Kennedy were both pretty blondes like me except with better tans and Nancy was Hispanic girl. In fifth period, I sat next to Linda, a heavy set African-American girl. This was my computer course and it was as good as I'd heard. I had made some conversations with some of the girls now and had a few I think would be friends. I was settling in nicely. By the end of the day, I felt better about going to school than I ever had before. I had my own friends and didn't have Quayd protecting me., I didn't need it. I was beginning to enjoy the world as a girl and this was just the first day of school. More was to come. to be cont.