The_tranny_who_stole_christmas_snippet

She wasn't interested in the presents or the fruitcakes. Trixie was after the spotlight—the one the mayor had reserved for the "traditional" carollers across the street at the town square. With a snap of her fan and a swirl of her crimson-sequined gown, she stepped out of the dressing room.

"Merry Christmas, darlings," she purred, her voice amplified by a megaphone hidden in her cleavage. "The Grinch had no style. Tonight, the holiday gets a makeover." the_tranny_who_stole_christmas_snippet

The plan was simple: high-jack the town’s main power grid using a modified curling iron and a lot of nerve. As the clock struck midnight, the carollers' microphones died. In the sudden silence, a single spotlight cut through the dark, landing right on Trixie, perched atop the town’s giant spruce. She wasn't interested in the presents or the fruitcakes

"They want a show?" Trixie whispered to her reflection, adjusting a wig that towered three feet high, woven with actual working LED Christmas lights. "I'll give them a heist." "Merry Christmas, darlings," she purred, her voice amplified