This is my watercolor sketch of Marilyn Monroe on page 133 of my new publication IT'S ALL MAKE BELIEVE, ISN'T IT? *Marilyn Monroe Returns*. You can purchase this macrocosmic standout at: www.lulu.com/bencampbell

Below is an excerpt from pages 129-131.

     His hands flung up to cover his mouth. A thrill of wonderment opened his life. He moved to about one inch from the mirror. How does one examine facial features; two brown eyes highlighted with black mascara; a petite rosy nose; voluptuous lips for kissing; two perfect ears hidden by hair; a tiny round chin worthy of pouting. He pinched a cheek hoping he would wake up. The pinch hurt and he wasn’t dreaming. He was real. He was Marilyn Monroe, a disheveled Marilyn Monroe, just like Sarah Eaton had told him. Holy crap, I am Marilyn Monroe.

     He wanted to barf. He wanted to scream. He wanted to mess his pants. But women don’t do those things. Their emotions are substitutes for physical purging.

     The light fixture over the bathroom mirror highlighted the beauty mark between the edge of his mouth and cheekbone. He touched the petite brown mark in wonderment. It was slightly raised and numb. It added panache to his beautiful face. The mark excited emotions and lent credibility to passion.

     None of his features were dominating. They were balanced and blended. They presented slightly less than perfect exotic Marilyn Monroe characteristics. He wanted to cry. He wanted to giggle. He wanted to dance. Women do those things. They harvest emotions.

      He immediately missed his masculine face. Instead of crying he smiled. Something new and exciting had happened and it would only be temporary. It was a condition of provisional bliss where masculine and feminine traits blended, a type of transfigure so to speak but much less than transgender.

     Perfect white teeth glistened when Martin opened his mouth. He was a perfectionist and didn’t want to see filings or crowns. There were none. He picked up a round shaving mirror, turned sideways and inspected his profile. An index finger lined the surface beginning with the nose. It was indeed dainty and rounded on the tip. The lips were putty, cheek bone high and the blue of his eye accentuated a sneak preview of what was and what is: Marilyn Monroe. Her face wouldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t everyday that someone changes overnight into Marilyn.

     But, Marilyn didn’t have a beard. Martin was happy to see the shadow of his whiskers, however transvestite it made him look.

     He put the mirror on the sink counter and pulled down his sweat pants. A masculine giggle erupted from his throat. His soft and supple penis was still there. However, it had been over two weeks since he fulfilled its purpose with Sarah. He pulled up the sweats and felt his masculine hard chest. He was a man with the head of a woman, with a penis and not a vagina. With any luck his changes would be only transitory.

You will want to read IT'S ALL MAKE BELIEVE, ISN'T IT? *Marilyn Monroe Returns*