Dude Looks Like A Lady
A FFVIII Gender Bending Fan Fic

Chapter 5
Unnatural Behavior

Seiferia sat in Selphie Tilmitt's class, bored out of his mind. She was supposed to be teaching him how to act like a lady, but so far, all she'd done was ramble on about shoes. Who gave a crap about shoes? He wore boots and he liked them, so why did he have to sit through an hour long lecture on heels, flats and sandals? Who cared? This class was a major waste of time. He could be in the training center now, beating the crap out of a T-rexaur. But instead he was sitting here, bored to tears by the Instructor's endless prattle.

"So now I'm going to pass out your 'SeeD' issue heels," Instructor Tilmit said. "I want you to try them on and practice walking in them. Most of you should be pretty good at it, but if you're a sandal or boot kind of girl, just remember to tuck in your tush, stand up straight and then it's heel, toe, heel, toe."

This was not good.

Seiferia had never worn heels, and had hoped to never have to wear heels for any reason. Ever. He liked the way they looked on girls. He liked the way heels made their hips shake. But he knew he was not a heel wearing kind of guy.

Selphie set a shoe box on each desk and read off each name and size as she did so. Most of the shoes were size five, six, seven and eight, Seifer noticed. There were a couple of size nines, one size three and one size ten. A couple of girls giggled at the mention of the size ten.

He had no idea about women's sizes, other than their feet were small. He glanced down at his boots, and then at the girl sitting next to him. His boots were almost double the size of her tiny flats.

When Selphie got to him, she plopped a large box onto the desk top and read off, "Seiferia Almasy, size fourteen."

All the girls in class were giggling now. At him.

Size fourteen? Holy Hyne! What was he, the bigfoot of women?

He stared at the loathsome box and felt his cheeks flame. He was a freak all the way around.

Selphie finished handing the shoe boxes out and perched on the edge of her desk. "All right ladies! Let's boogie!" she cried.

The girls tore into the shoe boxes like a bunch of spoiled children unwrapping their gifts on Christmas. Everywhere, shoes and socks came off, while Seiferia watched in horror. He slowly removed the lid from his own box and stared down at the water skis inside. They were ugly. Really, really ugly.

He removed his boots and socks, noticing the foul odor that wafted up at him. It smelled like something had crawled inside the boot and died. He tucked them under is desk and prayed that no one else noticed.

"Good, HYNE, what is that smell!" The girl behind him cried. He glanced back at her and shrugged. She pinched her nose and moaned.

"It smells like rotten hot dogs!" another girl remarked.

Up at the front of the room, Selphie had noticed it too. The odor had permeated the entire room. The instructor reached inside her desk and found a can of spray air freshener and began to spray the front of the room heavily. It helped, a little. Now the room smelled like rotten flowers.

"All right, ladies. Let's get those shoes on and practice our walking."

Crisis averted, Seiferia slipped on the massive black pair of death traps and put his feet down. They felt . . . wrong. His feet were bent at a strange angle, and his toes were cramped in the narrow space at the end.

He stood up and teetered on the narrow three inch heel. They hurt his feet.

He'd never realized that there were so many things about being a girl that were rather uncomfortable. Why did they put up with this crap? Thongs, heels, bras, even shaving . . . they all sucked.

"Now try walking in them, Miss Almasy," Selphie said. "Heel, toe, heel, toe."

He had no idea what she meant. He hadn't been paying attention but he nodded and attempted to take a step. The tiny heel was apparently too narrow to support the giant blonde perched on top of them. The heel turned over and Seiferia fell into the desk next to him. "Shit!" he cried as his head hit the edge of the desk hard enough to blur his vision.

"Miss Almasy, remember, a lady does not use that kind of language," Selphie chirped as she approached. She eyed him for a moment. "I guess you've never walked in heels."

The girls around him giggled again.

"Never had the pleasure," he muttered as he got up.

"Maybe we should try something with a smaller heel first," she said thoughtful. "You're gonna need some extra tutoring. You're rooming with Rinoa, right?"

"Unfortunately." He kicked off the heels and sat down.

"You're lucky," Selphie said. "She's one of our best tutors."

"We're not on the best of terms right now," Seiferia said. "I don't think she'd help me."

Selphie thought for a moment. "Well then, you get to practice with me!"

That was just what he needed. Special treatment. From the cheerleader. Great.

"I'll also give you the notes on the class you missed about personal hygiene," she continued. "That way, we won't have that odiferous problem next time."

"Um, thanks," he mumbled, humiliated.

"No problem," Selphie said. "You need a lot of work. I think I'm going to make you my pet, and when I'm done with you, you' ll be the perfect lady!"

Mortified, Seiferia dropped his head onto his desk and cried.

In the Cafeteria, Seiferia sat by himself. He didn't want to be around anybody right now, he just wanted to be alone in his misery. He felt like crying again, but he forced it back and picked at the plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes in front of him. As usual, the cafeteria food was bland and tasteless, and it was probably a good thing that he didn't have much of an apetite.

Not to mention, his boobs hurt and he felt bloated.

He pushed the plate away and took a sip of his cola. It had gone flat.

Everything about being a girl sucked. He'd never realized that it wasn't easy to deal with all the things they had to deal with. What got him was that they dealt with it and most of them still managed to get up in the morning, shower, shave, fix their hair, put on make up, get dressed and go out in the world. He was used to getting up, throwing on whatever smelled cleanest and rushing off to class without bothering to brush his hair or wash his face. He wanted his bachelor life back. It had been easy and comfortable.

Unfortunately, since becoming a girl, none of it had been easy or comfortable. He couldn't remember a time in his life where he'd felt any more uncomfortable.

It was strange though, he was already becoming used to some of it, and he was starting to act like a girl, dispite his determination not to. It bothered him that he found fashion magazines so facinating. And it bothered him that he saw the reasoning behind carying a purse, something that had baffled him not so long ago.

Zell took a seat at the table, across from Seiferia. "Hey," Zell said.

"Did I say you could sit here?"

"I'm sorry," Zell said, "It's just, you looked like you could use some company."

"Well, I don't," Seiferia muttered.

"You want me to go?"

Seiferia thought about it for a minute. He figured it was best to be nice to Zell, since he was one of only two people who knew his secret. It was probably a good idea not to piss him off. "Nah, go ahead and stay. I don't care."

Zell cleared his throat. "I uh, actually, I came over for a reason."

"Oh yeah," Seiferia said, already bored with Zell's company. "What's that?"

"Well, the Garden Festival's commin' up this weekend, and I was thinking . . ."

Seiferia knew what was coming. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to scream.

"I was thinking that we could go together," Zell said. "I mean I know you're not you, but I thought it would save you the trouble of being, ya know, hit on by a bunch of guys. 'Cause, um, the guys are talking about you, and uh, they all think you're hot."

Seiferia opened his eyes and made a face. "What are you saying? You wanna protect me from them?"

"I just thought it was something you'd wanna, you know, consider." Zell's face turned a thousand shades of pink before finally settling on a very unflattering crimson.

"You realize that you just asked a guy on a date," Seiferia taunted.

"I'm just trying to help you out," Zell said. "It wouldn't really be a date. Just a cover."

It wasn't such a bad idea. "Sure. Why not?" Seiferia said.


"It's the best option I have," Seiferia said. "But if you're going with me, you need to re-think your wardrobe."


"You said it yourself. I'm hot. I'm not going to be seen with some wannabe skater-boi."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Any suggestions?" Zell asked, eager for pointers.

Seiferia, who had never cared for fashion but now seemed to have an instinct for it, eyed Zell up and down.

Then it happened.

He was hit by a strange urge.

The urge to shop.

He needed, had to, must shop.

Right now.

"Zell, you have any more classes today?"


"Good. We're going to Balamb to find you a new look."

Zell followed Seiferia through Balamb in a daze. It was getting harder and harder to think of this blonde knock out with the giant boobs and long legs as 'Seifer.' For one thing, she wasn't really acting much like Seifer anymore. Sure, she was sarcastic and mean, but Seifer had never been volunteered to help him shop for new clothes. It was something he would have expected of Rinoa or Selphie, and maybe in a pinch, Irvine, but never Seifer.

So far, they'd purchased a pair of dark red leather pants, a black leather trench coat with flames painted on the back, a white, body-hugging tank and a pair of motor cycle boots. Now they were off in search of 'accessories.' Whatever those were.

Seiferia searched through a rack of spiked leather collars. She picked out one and slipped it around his neck. "Hmmm. Too small," she muttered and selected another. This one must have fit because she nodded and added a pair spiked wrist bands to match.

Next, she dragged him to the weapon shop where she selected a new pair of gloves. They were exactly like his regular gloves, but these too were black.

"Perfect," she said, appraising his new look. "But something's missing."

Zell looked down at his new clothes, wondering what else he could possibly need.

"Your hair," she exclaimed. "Of course!"

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"Yeah, I do," he said and crossed his arms. He liked his hair this way.

"Well, for starters, you could put somebody's eye out with it," she said. "Second, that style was cool, like, ten years ago. Now come on."

She pulled him to the salon, which was only across the street, and rapidly fired instructions at the stylist. He didn't understand half of what she said, and he was a little miffed that he didn't get any say in what was done to his hair. It was his head, after all. He was he one who had to live with the end result.

He was put into the barber chair and some kind of paste was put on his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Seiferia in a chair of her own, and a stylist was busy snipping away at her head. Zell glanced at the floor and noticed long sections of blonde hair on the floor around her chair.

His head was eventually rinsed, and then the stylist went to work.

When he was finally allowed to look in the mirror, Zell was shocked at what he saw. Gone was his spiky blonde hair. It was now jet black, and while still spiky, considerably shorter than before. He didn't know if he wanted to scream or admire it. It didn't look bad, but it was drastic. Not a look he would have chosen for himself.

"Perfect," Seiferia said with an approving nod.

Zell did a double take when he caught her reflection in the mirror. She'd had her hair more than just trimmed. She'd had it cut into an inverted bob, so that it was shorter in the back than in the front, and the stylist had blown her natural curls paper straight.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"I like it," Zell said. "It suits you."

"I meant your hair, chicken - wuss."

"It's different?"

"It's killer," Seiferia assured him. "Now you're fit to be my date."


Soooo...not terribly funny, but some of it may pay off later. Sorry it's so short. And Seifer/Seiferia is pretty OOC towards the end.

Next chapter up...Zell's date disaster...he he he he! What I'm about to do to Seifer is just . . . wrong. Mawaaaahhhhahahah!