"This is Sam Ruben with the Hollywood Report. As all of America knows by now, tonight's opening episode of 'The Bachelor' has an amazing twist: one of the would-be brides is not what she seems. But which of the 24 lovely ladies is really a man? That's the question that everybody is talking about. ABC is expecting a record audience tonight as America tunes in to the ultimate gender-bender. Will the other girls give her away, or will they help cover for her to better their own odds? And can Jason, last year's runner-up in 'The Bachelorette', figure her out in time?"
Jan switched off the television in his bedroom at the Girls' House and stretched. Dressed in a yellow nightshirt that came to mid-thigh, he surveyed himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. His blonde hair had grown long enough over the past several months to be styled into a shag, which he absent-mindedly fluffed as he turned sideways to inspect his figure. Jan had reluctantly initiated a minimal regimen of female hormones, prescribed by a disreputable Dr. Feelgood, after the network signed his contract. Hap Arnhold had convinced him that the temporary side effects would be well worth it if they prolonged his exposure on national television. As he raised his nightshirt and appraised his softer skin and emerging curves, Jan admitted to himself that the tradeoff had been necessary. Although his budding breasts were barely an A-cup, in a Wonder bra he had a hint of cleavage, almost as much as some of the other girls.
And his long, slim legs were the best in the competition, an edge which Jan exploited with his carefully chosen wardrobe of short outfits. At the taping of the first episode, when the girls promenaded in cocktail attire, Jan had stolen the show in a little black dress. It would be fun to watch himself wearing it on television tonight, especially since he already knew the outcome: Jan was among the twelve girls who had received a rose, the ticket to the next round of eliminations.
Today's taping of the next episode was going to take place at Dodger stadium, where the girls would be expected to cavort with ballplayers on the sidelines before taking their seats with Jason in a plush skybox. So far, Jan had managed to get by with only a few shy words to Jason, and he hoped that the hubbub of the ballgame would provide enough of a distraction for him to pass for another round.
Jan peeled off his nightshirt and took a long, hot shower, shaving his legs as he did so. One of the stipulations which the network had agreed to when they let Jan into the competition was to give each contestant a private bedroom and shower. The Girls' House was, in fact, a compound consisting of twelve two-bedroom townhouses clustered around a clubhouse with a dining and recreation area, where the girls hung out and mugged for the television cameras. The girl who occupied the other bedroom in Jan's townhouse had been eliminated in the first round, a huge break which meant that he now he had the entire unit to himself.
Jan's contract specified that his income would increase significantly the longer he stayed in the competition, and he was determined to make it into the quarterfinals. Once the field was narrowed to half-a-dozen girls, he had no illusions about his ability to survive the mounting scrutiny from the television audience, the media, and the other girls, not to mention poor Jason. Up to now, this had all been a bit of a lark for him, but there was no way Jason was going to become a laughingstock on national television by allowing a guy to become his dream girl.
With these heavy thoughts, Jan selected his outfit for the day. The other girls would be wearing shorts and Dodgers tee shirts, Jan figured, but he needed to look ultra-feminine. It was going to be a warm afternoon, with Santa Ana winds, and Jan had just the thing for it: a pink and white sundress that would barely cover his ass. That, a pair of panties to match his obligatory Wonder bra, and some strappy sandals would knock them dead.
Jan blow-dried his hair and ran a polished nail over his face. Although the hormones had reduced his beard to next-to-nothing, he gave himself a close shave before putting on his makeup. Glancing at the clock on the bathroom vanity, he hurried back into the bedroom and quickly got dressed. As an afterthought, he rummaged through his dresser for an old Dodger sun visor, which he perched on top of his blonde head. Surveying himself once again in the full-length mirror, he smiled in approval. Jan Peterson was as cute as a bug.
