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From: an273840@anon.penet.fi (The Bookworm)
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Date: Wed, 11 Oct 1995 10:07:07 UTC
Subject: TG: Untitled [1/3]
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* I did not write this story and I make no claims as to its content. I
* am simply providing a service to the alt.sex.stories newsgroup.
*
* If you are the original author of one of these stories, and you wish
* for me to remove from my archive, let me know.
*
* These stories deal primarily with female domination, forced feminization,
* and strong transsexual themes. If you get squeamish from this stuff,
* STOP READING NOW.
*
* All requests for subscriptions or reposts will be utterly ignored.
* It's simple enough: just wait for the story to come around again.
*
*Oh Yes
* Sorry to the TG Archivist for stealing this header
* but it seems so apt.
*
* an273840@anon.penet.fi
Subject: TG ARCHIVES: "Untitled"
Untitled
Author Unknown
******
Chapter One :
He stirred in his sleep and thought he heard a baby cry. It was a dream.
His children were grown and gone. He was alone in this big old house. His
wife had left him long ago. He hadn't brought anyone home with him from the
bar - or had he? Too many drinks. He thought perhaps there had been a woman.
He reached across the bed - the other side was empty. There had been a
woman... and a bad conversation. She had left shortly after coming here, he
thought. Too many one night stands. Too many nights of telling his sob
stories to get their sympathy - so that they would follow him home. Too many
lies. He dozed. There was that cry again - it grew louder and continued. He
told himself to ignore it. It was a dream. Or a cat outside. Or a baby
next door.
There was a odd sensation in his chest. Warmth moving down. The warmth
grew as the baby continued to cry. The feeling needed rubbing or something.
He reached up and found the corner of what he thought was a pillow under the
blanket before him. There was a wetness. Untangling the blanket brought him
fully awake. He was frightened. His chest had breasts. They seemed
incredibly large. He sat up. What had happened to him? This was too real
to be a dream. He was trembling.
The baby was still crying. His swollen nipples were leaking. He rubbed
his face and his eyes. He had to wake up from this. This couldn't be
happening. There were still there -and the baby was still crying. He felt
the breasts. They were heavy and hard. They ached. He had to get up - deal
with the noise. He couldn't think. What was he going to do.
Climbing out of bed was awkward. He was off balance. When he leaned to
steady himself against the dresser, a mass of hair swung over his shoulder.
Everything was out of kilter. He was nude. He never slept in the nude. His
hips, his waist - everything seemed to be in a different place. The room and
all the furniture seemed larger. He felt like he was going crazy. Or was
flying on some kind of dope high he had never felt before. The baby was
still crying.
He followed the noise. This wasn't his house at all. The dimly lighted
hallway wasn't his and it led to a room he had never seen before. Had he
gone to that woman's house instead of his own? He had entered a nursery. A
crib stood against the far wall. The baby in it was bawling like it had been
deserted for an eternity. Where was its mother? He couldn't just leave it.
The crying was driving him nuts. He couldn't think. Reaching in, he scooped
it up. It grew a bit calmer as he held it against his neck and tried to
figure out what to do next. Maybe the woman was in the house somewhere. She
might have had too much to drink - she might be passed out somewhere.
"There, there," he muttered to the child. It was fussing, trying to dig
itself into his shoulder. He carried it out and found a living room. Then a
kitchen. He searched the rest of the rooms. There wasn't anyone to be found
in the entire house. Everything was neat and tidy and silent and dark. He
was afraid to turn on the lights. He didn't want a good look at himself. He
would go mad. As he moved through the rooms, he felt the breasts sway, his
hips moving in an odd way and the hair fall against the small of his back and
his rump. It had to be some kind of weird drug or hypnotism or maybe he had
flipped out and was really strapped down in a hospital. It had to be a
dream. The baby was whimpering in his ear. It would be crying again soon.
He carried it back to the living room and found a comforter on the couch.
He was shivering by this time. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he sat
down. The baby began to cry in ernest again. He rocked it, but he knew that
wouldn't satisfy it. His nipples were tingling. Sighing, he nestled it in
his lap and tried bringing a breast to its mouth. He didn't know what he was
doing. The baby screamed angrily. He thought someone was sure to walk in on
him any second and yell at him for what he was trying to do. This was wrong.
He tried again and finally the baby figured it out for him and attached
itself and sucked. The warmth flushed through his chest.
They sat there for some time. The sucking seemed to calm him. He
relaxed. He had to think this through. Somehow he had ended up here,
changed beyond belief. There had to be some kind of weird explanation.
After a while, the breast emptied and he moved the baby to the other side.
It fussed a bit, but the second time of getting it to suck was easier.
Chapter Two :
He and the baby dozed. His dreams were wild and maddening. He was being
made love to by a creature or person he couldn't see. All was dark. He
awakened, startled by the nightmare and the stirring in his groin. He still
had a penis. Embarrassed by the closeness of the child at his breast, he
drew the comforter across his lap under the baby. The slight erection
subsided. He gently pulled the baby from his nipple and got up to carry it
back to the crib. It didn't wake up when he put it down and covered it. Now
what? It would probably wake up in a couple of hours. Maybe by then someone
would show up to claim it. Or better yet, someone would show up to explain
all this. None of it made sense.
He returned to the bedroom he had awakened in earlier. He knew he would
have to really face whatever had happened to him. Holding his breath, he
turned on the overhead light. At first, he thought he was looking at a
strange woman on the other side of the room. He almost spoke to her - and
then he realized it was his own reflection. A large mirror sat atop the
dresser on the opposite side of the bed. He was trembling. Where was he in
this person? She looked twenty years old. Last night he had been
fifty-three. She was short, and although it was difficult to tell in strange
surroundings, she couldn't be taller than five feet. He was six two. Or had
been. She was pretty. With freckles and thick blonde hair down her back.
Large breasts, slightly thick at the waist and a full rear end. She had a
penis, but it didn't look like his, or at least the way he remembered it.
This was small and the public hair was almost golden. He could tuck it
between his legs and no longer be a boy at all. He drew the comforter around
him to cover himself and moved closer. Nothing was changing. He looked
closely at his face and felt it and stared at the eyes looking back at him.
He couldn't even recognize his own eyes.
What was he going to do? He turned away, suddenly very tired and feeling
quite shakey. Light was seeping in through the drawn blinds beside him and
he almost peeked out to see where he was, but he was too afraid. At least
the inside of the house or apartment looked normal. What if the outside had
been changed as much he was? He felt sweaty and disheveled. Reaching at the
back of his neck, he pulled the hair over his shoulder. It fell heavily down
over his chest. This was too much. It was dirty and tangled. He could cut
it off - surely there were scissors somewhere. How could anyone take care of
this mess?
He went to the bathroom and rifled the drawers and medicine cabinet. No
scissors, not even a pair of fingernail clippers. He could use those as
well. His nails were long and it was difficult to go through the drawers
without hurting himself. This was a woman's house. There were only
cosmetics with the toothpaste and deodorant. No serious razors. He would
have to check the kitchen later. The shower looked inviting, so he laid
aside the comforter and climbed in. At least he could wash the hair. He
discovered it was a long drawn out process - of getting shampoo through all of
it and then rinsing it. Combing it out afterward took even longer. He ended
up sitting on the toilet seat, his head down and the long locks falling
before him down to the floor.
Chapter Three :
The sensations of this body were strange. In the shower, he had soaped
and had become partially aroused. His flesh was soft and almost rubbery.
Completely hairless except for the pubic hair. He would have been aroused by
being near a woman that looked the way he looked nowtouching her would have
made him hard instantly. Washing had been a little scarey - who was he
touching? He had held his breasts up to rinse the soap from beneath them and
had the impression of someone else standing behind him, doing the lifting - as
if his hands were a man's. His imagined hands? The way you would handle a
woman from behind as you kissed her neck?
Now, sitting on the toilet seat, the same odd awareness returned. His
wide hips seemed to saddle him on the furry cover. It was as if he had never
really sat down before - he felt based. Bending over beneath the curtain of
wet hair, his breasts hanging - swaying - with his attempts to untangle the
mass, struck him as an incredibly sexy pose. A real woman wouldn't think
like this. Who was he posing for?
He had to remember what had happened to him. Last night, he had been
restless after work and had decided not to go home right away. There was
nothing there anyway. He had gone to dinner alone and then to a kinky
nightclub in Hollywood. The place had fascinated him. The crowd was mostly
S&Mers and transvestites - all sorts of leather and strange outfits. It had
been an adventure from the straight-laced business world he normally lived
in. He was a banker downtown. A good one. There had been a woman at the
bar. She had been gorgeous in a dark hard sort of way. They talked. He
remembered that he was cautious at first - uncertain if he were talking to an
actual woman or a very good looking transvestite. At some point he was
convinced she was real. He couldn't recall exactly when it happened, if it
was simply her mannerisms or some small detail of what she was talking about.
She was a commerical artist. Doing stain-glass sculptures or something.
They had left together. As he followed her toward her car, the fears had
returned. She seemed a bit angular, although her hips were certainly round
enough. She was almost his height, without the short heels she was probably
five ten or eleven. Her hair was short - in one of those boy haircuts. She
turned at her car before opening the door. He was wondering how he could get
out of this gracefully.
"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he had asked.
She kissed him. It was a woman. She had held up her car keys.
"You drive," she had told him.
They had gone to her place. Or at least were heading there. After they
had pulled out of the parking lot, she had leaned in his direction and began
massaging the crotch of his pants. He remembered the hardness she had
created and the slow movement of her fingernails as she drew down his zipper.
Then nothing.
Had he blacked out? He had been driving - it seemed impossible that he
could have lost conciousness and not gotten into an accident. He couldn't
recall drinking too much. The whole evening had been real, hadn't it? Any
explanation of this was too crazy to be believed. He had a life - you just
don't wake in someone else's.
Work! He suddenly remembered he had a meeting at 8:30 with the board to
go over the new tower plans. He had to call. He couldn't show up like this-
they would have him locked away as a crazy woman. He could at least buy some
time - until he figured out how to get back to the way he was. He got up,
held his hair up and let it drop behind and wrapped a towel around himself.
He caught himself as he tucked the corner in under his arm. This is the way
women wrap themselves in a towel. He hadn't even thought about it. This
shouldn't be so natural.
Chapter Four :
He went to phone in the bedroom and dialed his office. He got the
voicemail. It must still be early. He punched in his secretary's extension
and after her cheery message (that he had heard fifty times before) the beep
sounded.
"Hi Mary, this is Steve...(God - his voice! He sounded like a little
girl!) Oh, sorry...I meant...this is Steve's sister. He asked me to call and
let you know that he has a family emergency...He wanted me to ask you to
reschedule the board meeting for next week. He wanted to leave you a number
where you could leave messages for him...(There was an answering machine - but
the phone didn't have the number on it.)...Well, I can't seem to find the
number right now - sorry. There's been a death in our family. I'm sure he'll
call you."
He hung up quickly, feeling like a first class fool. He hadn't even
sounded coherent. Calling back would only make it sound a bit more crazed
than it already was. At least he would have some time to figure this out.
He had dialed without the area code and it had connected - so he was still in
the city somewhere.
He looked around. He should get dressed, but there was no sign of his
clothing. Checking the closet, he half expected to find his suit hanging
neatly in one corner. Nothing. Just skirts and blouses and some sweaters
and lots of dresses. He rifled through the hangers. This was weird. There
was no pants at all - not even a pair of jeans. The woman who lived here must
have a strange trip going on. He checked the bureau. Every woman owned
shorts. There were underwear, nylons and nightgowns. No shorts or even a
bathing suit. He took out a couple of the nightgowns, thinking that there
must be something like a flannel nightshirt, but they were all skimpy lacey
things - like the stuff he would buy a girl friend for her birthday or
christmas. He put them back. So what was he going to wear? He didn't want
to be standing here in a towel if somebody showed up.
Ok. He took out a pair of panties and held them up to figure out which
was the front and pulled them on. They felt nice actually - soft and smooth
against his skin. The elastic band of the waist was a bit disconcerting so
high up, but they seemed to fit. He had a quick sensation of being one of
those nerds in high school that wore their pants buckled at their navels.
Well, if he had no choice other than a skirt, at least he could pick one that
wasn't absurdly feminine. He took a long denim number out of the closet and
pulled it on. It was a bit snug. After buckling the belt on it, he turned
to look at himself. He seemed to be all butt. It was tight waisted and
after expanding over his curves, tapered again. It appeared to be the right
length: mid-calf. He wished he had paid more attention to women's fashions.
He tried to recall how long his secretary's skirts were, but couldn't picture
her legs. She was always sitting down. What a strange body image women had
of themselves, he thought. They dress like this on purpose, to emphasize
their attractiveness. As a man, he would have found the woman in the
reflection sexy, but from the inside, now, the obvious rear end was
embarrassing. He had a whole lifetime of trying to make his backside
nondescript. This would take some getting used to.
He needed a shirt. As he searched for something plain looking, it
occurred to him that he might need to feed the baby again if he couldn't find
anything else to give it, so he looked for something that would button up the
front. The sweaters were out. He found a white blouse that wasn't too
frilly and fumbled with the buttons and tucked it in. The mirror wasn't
particularly kind. This wasn't going to work. His nipples were clearly
outlined by the sheer fabric and when he tried to pull it out a bit - to make
it looser - he began to leak.
He pulled it off. He had wanted to avoid the bras, but knew he didn't
have much choice. If he wanted to get out of here, he couldn't very well go
running down the street as a wet t-shirt contestant. He had noticed some
nursing pads in a box in the bathroom. He went back to the underwear drawer.
He couldn't quite bring himself to look through them. He wanted to, but
thought it too sick - he was stealing some woman's clothes as it was - to be
interested in what they looked like seemed a bit like smelling someone's
underwear for kicks. The one he took turned out to be a nursing bra.
Putting it on was another question. He recalled a girl friend in college
that would put her's on backwards to hook it in front and then pull it
around. He ended up back in front of the mirror anyway - this was a bit of
work with your breasts hanging in the way. It turned out not to be so
difficult. He pulled it around and put his arms through the straps. He
adjusted the cups over his new flesh.
It fit. This was getting stranger and stranger. He remembered his
ex-wife's endless search for the perfect bra - according to her nothing fit
right. He had to think this whole thing was a set-up. All the clothing
fits. Whoever did this to him, knew he would be here getting dressed.
Shaking his head, he went to the bathroom for the nursing pads. Afterwards,
he picked out a loose poet looking blouse and went back to the mirror one
last time. The breasts and rump and hair were still too much to seriously
consider, but at least he was covered.
Chapter five :
The baby was awake. It was whimpering - not really crying yet. He went
back to the nursery. It was lying on its back, uncovered. When he bent over
the crib to pick it up, it seemed to recognize him. It smiled.
"Hello," he said.
It reached for his face when he had it in his arms. Its bottom was heavy
and he realized it needed changing. Searching about, he found the diapers
and wipes. There wasn't a changing table, so he got down on the floor. The
skirt was difficult to get down in - it was a little too tight around his
legs. He'd have to find something later. His hands were trembling. He had
never changed a diaper. Fumbling with the snaps on the baby's outfit, and
then with the adhesive strips on the diaper, he finally removed the soaked
diaper. It was a little girl.
Holding her in place as she wiggled while trying to position a fresh
diaper under her wasn't made any easier by his fingernails. He was afraid he
was going to scratch her. These were dangerous. He finished and picked her
up and then with difficulty got back to his feet by grabbing the doorknob.
"You hungry?" he asked her.
He went into the kitchen. She wasn't fussing, but he didn't expect her
to last very long. He went through the cupboards and the drawers, then the
refrigerator. Nothing for a baby. No formula, no baby food. Was she old
enough for baby food? There wasn't a pair of scissors to be found either.
Also no sharp knives. Whoever did this to him - did they think he would try
to kill himself?
"Well, it looks like you're stuck with me, kiddo."
He went out to the living room. The dark room was adding to his feeling
that he was trapped. He went around and pulled up all the shades to let the
light in. It was a bright sunny morning. He tried the front door,
half-expecting it to be locked in some mysterious way that wouldn't allow him
to unlock it. The deadbolt turned and the latch worked. It opened easily.
There was a normal looking screen door and a porch beyond. He stepped
outside and looked at the small front yard. He was on the westside
somewhere - near the beach. The street was lined with small cottages and palm
trees. No one was about except for one man down the street a few houses
away. There was traffic noises from what he thought had to be the next block
over.
The baby had his hair. He disengaged her hand gingerly and shook his
head back. He would have to figure that out too. There had to be something
to hold it back. It was beginning to dry and fall forward. Her hands were
quick. He carried her back in and settled on the couch. Unbuttoning and
unsnapping himself, he offered her the nipple and soon had her latched on
after some manuvering. This was beginning to hurt. He didn't want to pull
her away - she would surely start to cry - but he was tempted. Women put up
with this to breastfeed? He tried looking out the window at the street-
thinking himself somewhere else. He could do it, he told himself.
As he sat there, the man he had seen earlier came up the sidewalk on the
opposite side of the street. When he came even with the front window he
stopped. Steve had expected him to stroll on by. He had looked like someone
just out for a leasurely walk. Maybe he was looking at the tree in the front
yard here or admiring the flowering shrubs along the front fence. He would
lose interest and go on. But he didn't. He remained standing exactly where
he was. Could he see in? Was he watching me feed the baby? The guy looked
normal enough - short blonde hair and clean cut. Steve wanted to jump up and
pull down the shade and close the front door, but didn't know how the unhook
the child without making her upset. He doubted whether he could really see
through the screen on the window. It was dark inside. Even if he could see
in a liitle - what was he getting a glimpse of? A bit of boob covered by bra
and baby? Whatever the guy thought he was doing - Steve didn't like it. He
felt exposed.
The baby finally came away gurgling. He picked her up and went to the
window. The guy still hadn't moved. Steve closed and locked the door again
and then drew down the shade. His shoulder was wet. The baby had just spit
up.
Chapter Six :
He was on his way to the bathroom to clean himself up - the sleeve and
shoulder of his blouse was a gooey mess - when there was a crash from outside
at the rear of the house. He jumped and froze in mid-step. The baby looked
frightened. He held her close and peeked around from the hallway toward the
kitchen. Buttoning the blouse, he tiptoed cautiously to the back door. In
the small back yard a trash can was laying on its side, its contents strewn
across the grass. A cat was sniffing aa piece of paper at the edge of the
trash. Steve sighed and after looking around just to be on the safe side, he
went back to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Back on the couch, the cloth of the blouse wet against his skin, he fed
the baby from the other breast and hoped it would put her back to sleep. Her
eyes were wide open though. This side didn't hurt as much, but he knew it
probably would with repeated feedings. The mother had to show up. He just
hoped he didn't get caught with the breast in the baby's mouth when someone
did walk in. The real mother would kill him. As he sat there, he began the
feel the urge for a cigarette, and he suddenly realized that he hadn't had
one since getting up. When the baby finished, he buttoned up and took her
with him to do a search of the house for tobacco. There wasn't any to be
found. It occured to him that he if he found some money, he could probably
walk somewhere nearby to buy some. But there didn't seem to be any change
laying around either. In the course of his search, he had stopped in the
bathroom to replace the nursing pads in his bra, which was a trick in itself
with a baby on your hip. On the bedroom dresser, he found a banana hairclip
and put the baby down on the floor for a moment so that he could put it in
his hair. He guessed he had put it on the right way. It looked good. The
hair was swept up loosely - high on the back of his head. He looked at his
face again. Was he beginning to enjoy this? The clip felt a bit funny - but
then so did everything else. It seemed artiface in a way - as if the clothing
and hair were creating and constraining all at once. He imagined that if he
were really a woman and had always been one, this stuff would seem quite
natural.
With the baby on his hip, he started back out to the living room. On the
dining room hutch, stuck sideways next to a potted plant, was a purse. He
hadn't noticed it before. It was hidden from view if you were walking the
other direction. He picked it up and carried it into the living room. He
put the baby on the floor and sat down beside her. He would have to get
another skirt - this one was impossible for getting up and down this way.
There should be some money here. He found the wallet. There were a couple
of twenties inside. He took out one bill and was about to put the wallet
away when he noticed the driver's license. He couldn't believe what he was
looking at. He removed it from the plastic pocket. It was him! Or at
least, the person he was now. The name on it read: Sandra McGregor. Age:
24. It was him. What the hell was happening?
Chapter Seven :
Looking at the photo on the driver's license was maddening. For a
moment, he was questioning his sanity. What if he really was this person-
this was his house - his child? He would surely remember something of this
girl's life if that was true. How could you have a baby and not remember?
He had family as Steve - a childhood - fifty years of memories. This was like
some bad Sci-Fi movie or an episode from Twight Zone. You just don't wake up
in somebody else's life. If he was here - then what had happened to the
person that was Sandra?
He was trembling as he pulled himself up from the floor. He had to get
out of here - get some fresh air - think this out. Get a cigarette. He went
to the front window and peeked out to see if the guy was still standing
across the street. There wasn't a soul around. There was a stroller in the
corner. He guessed there were keys in the purse. There were. Scooping the
baby up, he went into the bedroom for some shoes. He knew now that they
would fit. They were all lined up on a rack in the bottom of the closet. He
looked through them. Not a pair of flats to be found. He picked the lowest
heels he could find and slipped them on. The leather against his feet felt
funny and he thought of the nylons in the drawer, but dismissed the notion-
damn if he would struggle with that right now. He felt a bit wobbly walking-
having a point holding your heels up wasn't the most secure sensation. If he
walked slowly, it was all right. If nothing else, he could use the stroller
to keep his balance. These were only about an inch high - how did women do
this?
He returned to the living room carefully. He certainly didn't want to
fall with the child in his arms. Fumbling with the stroller, he finally got
it open and seemingly locked so that it would fold up again after she was in
it. He belted her in and then paniced. What if she threw up or needed her
diaper changed? He loaded the stroller's basket with diapers and wipes and a
couple of small towels. He had decided the take the purse.
Getting out the door with the thing was not too tramatic, except for the
purse, which slipped off his shoulder when he bent to tip the wheels over the
threshold. He locked the door. The purse fell a second time when he tried
to manuever the stroller off the porch. He folded the strap and put it under
the towels in the basket.
He let himself out the gate. This was scarey. He felt like he was going
out into public in drag - or in the nude. Everyone would know somehow that he
wasn't what he seemed. He could imagine people staring - or stopping to
point. They would laugh at the way he walkedor at his clumsiness. He took a
deep breath. The only flaw was his soul - and the genitals which no one could
see. He tried to look at the front of his skirt, but found he couldn't see
it standing upright. A hand to his bosom and a stretch reassured him. The
denim was too heavy to show anything underneath. No wonder women didn't
stand up at urinals - they couldn't see anything.
Where should he go? The traffic noise seemed to come from the end of the
alley almost directly across the street. He started out in that direction.
He was proud of himself for navigating the street so easily. There was
difficulty in walking once he entered the alley. The thin layer of small
gravel made the heels seem to slip sideways with each step. The baby seemed
happy enough. He stopped to raise the canopy to keep her face out of the
sun. The was a breeze, but it was warm. His hair whipped about a little
against the clip on the back of his head.
When he reached the cross alley, he spotted the blonde guy standing just
around the corner of a garage, waiting.
Chapter Eight :
Steve stopped. The blonde guy seemed a bit surprised, but recovered
quickly. He took a step toward Steve and the stroller.
"Do I know you!?" Steve almost shouted. (The damned little girl voice
only sounded frightened - he certainly wasn't going to intimidate anyone.)
The guy looked pained at his question.
"You have my baby," he said.
Steve almost jumped. He understood immediately - this guy wasn't the
father - it was who ever used to inhabit the body he now had. He wasn't sure
how he knew, but he did.
"Stay away from me!" Steve yelled.
Something wasn't right. He could feel the violence in the way the guy
waited. The man's fists were clenched. He was having trouble making words
come out of his mouth. He stood as if there was an invisible yoke across his
shoulders, bearing down on the back of his neck. Steve started ahead with
the stroller again. He had to get past the guy - ahead of him toward the
other end of the alley.
"She won't let you keep her!" the man blurted. "She'll take everything
away!"
He was following him. Damn! The heels and the confining skirt made him
feel like he was trying to run up a hill in three feet of mud. He slipped
with each step. There was no way he could run. He glanced over his
shoulder. The guy wasn't getting any closer, but he wasn't stopping. It
made Steve feel as if the guy was purposely taking his time like a cat might
stalk a mouse.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled.
"You can't have her, you bitch! I'll kill you!"
Steve felt close to tears. Any second a hand would grab him from behind.
He scurried on toward the end of the alley, repeatedly looking back. The
guy was still coming. A woman appeared up ahead, crossing the opening on the
street beyond. He could hear the guy running across the gravel. Steve
stopped, bent down, scooped up a handful of rocks and turned to face the
bastard. He was gone!
Trembling, Steve dropped his stones, and quickly pushed the stroller
ahead. The woman up ahead of him had stopped and seemed to be waiting for
him. He was too upset to look at her when he reached the street. He turned
the stroller sharply, to head off down the sidewalk away from her. What
could he possibly say to her?
"Are you all right, miss?"
He looked up. He had immediately wanted to look behind him to see who
she was addressing, but he stopped himself. She seemed kindly enough. She
was in her late forties or early fifties - graying hair up on her head in
braids. Not unattractive looking. Her eyes made him hesitate. They were
intelligent - almost wise.
"I guess so," he heard himself say.
"He got scared off," she offered.
He looked back once more.
"He saw you, I guess."
"You're trembling."
"I'm all right - really," he said. "The price to pay for a pack of
cigarettes."
She smiled.
"Such a pretty baby," she said, bending down for a closer look.
"Thanks." (How were you supposed to respond?)
"Would you like to bum one of mine?" she asked. She was holding out a
pack she had retreived from her pocket.
He accepted one, but found it difficult to hold it steady enough for her
to light it. She held his hand still with her own.
"Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?" she asked. "I've got to open my
shop, why don't you walk along with me and I'll give you a cup of tea. I
could use the company."
"I...all right." He wasn't sure why he accepted. He knew he would get
in trouble if he had to carry on any kind of conversation. But this was
better than trying to go back to that house.
Chapter Nine :
As Steve walked with the woman down the street, the thought struck him
that if he was the real mother of the baby he might have acted exactly the
same way the blonde guy had acted. Someone had stolen his life as well. So
why hadn't he handed the baby over? Why hadn't he tried to talk to the guy-
so he could figure this out? There was something seriously wrong with the
guy - it was not anything you could finger immediately. Recognizing him as
Sandra had been like suddenly discovering your sister's face on a psychotic
bum talking to himself in the reflection of a store window. Madness was
something you could see, but not neccessarily define unless it was real
blatant. He had also been more frightened than he could ever remember. How
are you supposed to defend yourself if you are a foot shorter than the whole
world and too fluffy? This body had no muscle at all.
"Maybe its none of my business, but did you know that man?" the woman
asked him.
"No. He was hanging around outside the house this morning. I don't
think I've ever seen him before. Why?"
"No reason. I've seen him in the neighborhood a few times, but it was a
while ago. He used to walk in the evenings with a dark-haired woman."
"Oh?"
"Then I used to see you walking in the evenings with a dark-haired man
when you were pregnant."
Steve didn't know how to answer that comment. Who was the man she had
seen him (or Sandra) with?
They had reached her shop. It was a jewelry store. The woman unlocked
the front door, flipped the hanging sign on the inside of the glass so that
it read open and preceeded him inside. He manuevered the stroller over the
threshold carefully, so as not to wake the baby. He was still amazed that
she had slept right through his rush down the alley and the yelling.
The shop was cold inside. The woman went toward the back and after a
moment, the lights came on and he could hear the faint hum of a heater fan.
The shop was crowded with glass cases and here and there a large mirror was
hung for the customers' use. The jewelry all looked custom made and
expensive. Mostly earrings and necklaces.
"Do you make these yourself?" he asked.
The woman smiled.
"You don't remember talking to me before, do you?"
Steve could feel himself turning red.
"No, I guess I don't," he said.
"We were friends. You were having problems."
"Do I look different?" he asked.
"Would you like orange or lemon tea?"
"Lemon, I guess."
She turned and disappeared into a back room. He should leave right now,
he told himself. She would starting asking questions that he wouldn't have
answers for. He didn't want anyone to think that he was crazy. He'd be
locked up for sure.
The baby was waking up. Damn, he thought. Not now. She began to cry.
He unbuckled her and picked her up. He would have to nurse her. He couldn't
go now - he had no idea where he could take her to feed her. He couldn't go
back to the house. He found a couch in a corner and unbuttoned. She latched
on right away. He grimaced with the pain in his nipple.
The woman came out shortly with the steaming tea. She carried them over
and sat his within his reach on a glass shelf.
"Would you like honey or cream in yours?" she asked.
"No, its fine."
"You having problems?" she asked.
He wasn't sure what she was asking.
"Well, nothing other than some strange man harrassing me."
"I meant with the nursing."
"Oh. Well...Is it supposed to hurt this much?"
"Take her off."
Steve pulled the baby away gently. She cried. The woman showed him how
to make the baby take more into her mouth. And then how to hold the flesh
back from her nose so she could breathe.
"You weren't getting her latched on all the way, is all. She won't choke
on you. The milk maybe. Just pull her off if its not right. She'll get the
hang of it quick."
This way didn't hurt.
"Thank you," he said. "I thought it was supposed to hurt."
"Most women today didn't get to watch to see how their mothers did it
because their mothers didn't breastfeed. Would you like a pillow?"
"I'm ok."
"So, you going to tell me who you are?" the woman asked.
Chapter Ten :
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth," Steve said to her.
"You used to be a man," she replied as she sipped her tea. "Or at least
someone that isn't used to being you."
"Its that obvious?"
"You wobble on those heels. How old were you?"
"Old enough to remember seeing Elvis on Ed Sullivan."
"You're my age?...My, my."
"Tell me about Sandra," he said.
"She tried too hard - she was afraid of being herself. She talked a lot
about killing herself and the baby. I tried to get her to go get help, but
she would only shake her head. Eventually, she quit coming around. I think
she was embarrassed by what I knew."
"I don't believe we're having this conversation," he said. "I don't
believe I'm here. Don't you question this? Do you know how I got here?"
"No I don't know why you are in the body you're in. There are a lot of
things that I don't understand, but they are real just the same."
She looked at him.
"Talk to your husband," she said softly.
"My husband?"
"I want to give you something. Will you accept a gift from me?
Steve was still trying to digest the husband idea.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Sarah. Some think I'm the good witch." She smiled.
"You're kidding, right?"
She just continued to smile - a lot like the Cheshire Cat. Getting up,
she went behind one of the counters, took something out of a lower shelf and
returned. She held out a small white box to him.
"Will you accept these - as a gesture of friendship?" she asked.
She opened the box for him since he was still feeding the baby. Inside
was a pair of large dangly earrings - they were very ornatethey were obviously
antique.
"Well, I don't know if I could wear them."
"Your ears are pierced."
"They are?"
"They will do you some good, I think. Shall I put them on you?"
He couldn't think of a way out of this gracefully. She had been overly
kind to him.
"Ok."
She bent over him and brushed the hair behind one ear. The earing
slipped on easily. It felt heavy hanging from his earlobe.
"I'm afraid all the hair will get tangled up in them," he said, as she
put the other one in. "I've already had problems dealing with it. And the
baby will probably yank it. I've already been fighting to keep her from
pulling my hair."
"Come over here," she said.
He got up carefully and followed her to an ottoman sitting in front of a
mirror. She motioned for him to sit down. He took the seat, but faced away
from the mirror.
She laughed.
"Turn around."
"Wait."
He removed the baby from his breast, snapped up the cup and buttoned his
blouse before turning. He still couldn't believe what he was looking at had
anything to do with him. Sandra watched him from the mirror. The earrings
were large. The baby was rooting for the other breast. He unbuttoned and
bared the other side and gave it to her. He didn't want to look up again.
"You have to put your head up," Sarah said.
She removed the clip from the back of his head. The hair fell on his
shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"Watch so you can do it yourself."
She produced a small brush from her sweater pocket and began brushing his
hair and parting it. He started to pull away, but for some reason he checked
himself. She was only trying to help. Pulling the hair in strands, she
began to french braid it. One side was quickly done - the hair gathered back
in a plait behind the ear.
"You think you can do this - I can take it out and let you try when the
baby's done."
Steve looked at himself and nodded absently. She started on the other
side. He was a woman, he told himself. He was sitting here with a baby
sucking his boob - there was nothing left of what he once was. He began to
cry. He couldn't stop.
"Are you all right?" Sarah asked.
"You're so nice-" he stammered through his tears. "I don't cry - I never
cry...I didn't cry when my son disowned me - or even when my wife left
me...What's happening to me?"
"Its probably just tension. Don't worry. Anybody would be stressed out
by losing your life."
Steve laughed despite the streaks on his face.
"God!"
"You can blame it on hormones. You might still be a man inside your head
but you're in a woman's body."
"You're as crazy as I am," he said.
"Maybe. Try to wear the earrings - for me if not for yourself."
"They're heavy."
"Don't think about comfort - think about...well, I don't know...think
about what you need to do."
Chapter Eleven :
Sarah told him about her life. Her son that was grown and painting in
New York. Her husband that had died twenty years before. It was as if she
understood he was too confused to share anything about himself at this point,
so she filled up the hour with her own story and her own pain for him to use
as a comparison. He didn't mind - she was an interesting person. He wondered
if he had met her as a man - in normal circumstances - he would have found her
as fascinating. She was very spiritual. He might have just dismissed her
awareness as just more new age flakiness. Not now. His slate of
preconcieved notions was wiped clean. She did a bit of jewelry making. The
earrings she had given him were her own - but mostly she just ran her shop and
took care of her cats. She described the jewelry that she created as an
inspirational event - something that seldom occured.
The baby began to get fussy after they had talked for awhile. Steve
changed her and tried feeding her again and then walked up and down with her.
She seemed to be getting more upset as time went on. He was still afraid to
go back to the house, but didn't know what else he could do. He thought that
taking her back to a setting she was familar with might somehow help. He
couldn't think of anything else. Sarah offered to walk him back. She locked
up and they went. Sarah pushed the stroller for him because the baby
wouldn't allow herself to be put down in it. By the time they reached the
alley, the child was wailing.
Steve was getting upset himself. He was sure the whole world was peering
out of their windows at them - wondering why he was abusing the baby.
"Maybe you ate something weird?" Sarah asked, "That will affect your
milk. She might be having a reaction to it."
He suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten all morning.
"You think the tea might be affecting her?" he asked.
"No. Its healthy - it was just orange herbal tea."
They reached the house and Sarah held the baby while Steve found the
right key and opened the door.
"Well, good luck," Sarah said. "I really need to get back."
Steve grimaced at her. He took the baby inside and double locked the
door behind him.
The baby cried non-stop for the next two hours. Steve tried nursing - she
wasn't having any. He tried walking with her up and down through the house.
He changed her a couple of more times. He recalled how his son as a baby had
been quieted by going for a ride in the car. He searched for thing that
would hum like a car engine. He ran the dryer, then the vaccuum cleaner,
then the blow dryer. He sang songs. He gave up in frustration several times
and just tried putting her in her crib and leaving the room. The wailing,
heard from behind the nursery door, sounded worse than it did next to his
ear. He got angry, then cried with the baby. Nothing he could do was
helping her. He was ready to decide that there was something seriously with
her and he had to get a taxi to take them to the hospital. At this point, he
was again walking back and forth through the house and singing to her. They
were both sweaty and miserable. It occured to him that a bath might distract
her. He carried her into the bedroom and took off her clothing and then
shifting her from one hip to the other, started to take off his own. Getting
his blouse and then the bra off one arm at a time was an adventure. He
removed the earrings and dumped his skirt on the pile at the end of the bed.
He'd figure out the panties later. He carried her into the bathroom. The
--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--***ATTENTION***
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From agate!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Wed Oct 11 17:43:27 1995
Message-ID: <101335Z11101995@anon.penet.fi>
Path: agate!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
From: an273840@anon.penet.fi (The Bookworm)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an273840@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed, 11 Oct 1995 10:09:02 UTC
Subject: TG: Untitled [2/3]
Lines: 88
Xref: agate alt.sex.stories:105301 alt.sex.stories.tg:994
* I did not write this story and I make no claims as to its content. I
* am simply providing a service to the alt.sex.stories newsgroup.
*
* If you are the original author of one of these stories, and you wish
* for me to remove from my archive, let me know.
*
* These stories deal primarily with female domination, forced feminization,
* and strong transsexual themes. If you get squeamish from this stuff,
* STOP READING NOW.
*
* All requests for subscriptions or reposts will be utterly ignored.
* It's simple enough: just wait for the story to come around again.
*
*Oh Yes
* Sorry to the TG Archivist for stealing this header
* but it seems so apt.
*
* an273840@anon.penet.fi
moment he turned on the water, she stopped.
Ok, he told himself. He didn't bother to put the stopper in. He let the
water run and sat on the toilet seat. She took the breast easily now, and so
he sat there to feed her, afraid that any change might start the wailing all
over again. The bathroom filled with steam from the bath.
Chapter 12 :
The baby was back in the crib, asleep, thank god. Steve had returned to
the bathroom and turned off the water. He had no interest in the bath now-
sitting in the steam-filled room until he was sure the baby was asleep - and
worrying the whole time about what the steam might be doing to the child-
left him drained. He was soggy from head to foot anyway. The braids were
two wet and heavy ropes hanging down his back. He went into the bedroom and
climbed into bed.
He thought he might try to take a nap, but knew he probably couldn't.
There was too much to deal with. He was worried that if he did fall asleep,
he wouldn't hear the baby. And he was still half-afraid of someone showing
up and finding him naked. (If he stayed awake, he could grab something off
the floor, if he heard somethingthe clothing was too much hassle right now.)
Sarah had told him he had a husband - he was too afraid at the time to ask her
any more about that - how could he have a husband?! He had a penis. Some guy
walking in to find him was not going to be in a friendly mood.
He turned on his side. His right breast was sort of lying on his left
one. This was not what he could have ever imagined. He cupped the boob on
top and squeezed it. It was like anything else that was a part of his body.
Just flesh, except rubbery. He had, secretly, imagined what it might be like
to be a woman. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wondered what it
would be like. He had never acted out any of his hidden fantasies - his life
had come and gone, and he had reached a point where he had believed he was
past his prime - that his life and all his potentials were expended. Any
opportunity or chance to be any different that he hadn't taken advantage of-
wasn't going to be explored. All the wild gender stuff going on now was for
younger people. He giggled. He had always thought that having breasts was
like having two penises on your chest. That by rubbing the nipples, they
would get hard - and you'd get aroused.
After an all day sucking bout with the baby, they felt like milk bottles.
This body was so different. He couldn't lie on his stomach. Lying on his
back felt weird. Like his butt was up on a pillow and then these things fell
sideways against his arms. The hair kept getting caught underneath him and
he couldn't just turn his head - he had to pull it out of the way before he
moved.
What he felt inside was confusing and almost more troubling than the
changes to the way he looked on the outside. He felt like he was filled to
the brim with raw emotions. He used to move through the world almost
mindlessly. There had been episodes with insecuritieswas he performing well-
was he effective and decisive? But now, he couldn't quite regain an handle
on anything that resembled confidence. It was as if he was a little boy
again - wanting a parent to come comfort him - to take care of him. He was in
a twenty year old body apparently. Was this how it was to be twenty? Had he
forgotten?
He touched his penis, but that just felt like so much flesh too. How did
SIZE LIMIT (48K) EXCEEDED!!!
--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--****ATTENTION****--***ATTENTION***
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From agate!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Wed Oct 11 17:43:28 1995
Message-ID: <161316Z11101995@anon.penet.fi>
Path: agate!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
From: an273840@anon.penet.fi (The Bookworm)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an273840@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed, 11 Oct 1995 16:06:57 UTC
Subject: TG: Untitled [2/3]
Lines: 926
Xref: agate alt.sex.stories:105336 alt.sex.stories.tg:997
* I did not write this story and I make no claims as to its content. I
* am simply providing a service to the alt.sex.stories newsgroup.
*
* If you are the original author of one of these stories, and you wish
* for me to remove from my archive, let me know.
*
* These stories deal primarily with female domination, forced feminization,
* and strong transsexual themes. If you get squeamish from this stuff,
* STOP READING NOW.
*
* All requests for subscriptions or reposts will be utterly ignored.
* It's simple enough: just wait for the story to come around again.
*
*Oh Yes
* Sorry to the TG Archivist for stealing this header
* but it seems so apt.
*
* an273840@anon.penet.fi
moment he turned on the water, she stopped.
Ok, he told himself. He didn't bother to put the stopper in. He let the
water run and sat on the toilet seat. She took the breast easily now, and so
he sat there to feed her, afraid that any change might start the wailing all
over again. The bathroom filled with steam from the bath.
Chapter 12 :
The baby was back in the crib, asleep, thank god. Steve had returned to
the bathroom and turned off the water. He had no interest in the bath now-
sitting in the steam-filled room until he was sure the baby was asleep - and
worrying the whole time about what the steam might be doing to the child-
left him drained. He was soggy from head to foot anyway. The braids were
two wet and heavy ropes hanging down his back. He went into the bedroom and
climbed into bed.
He thought he might try to take a nap, but knew he probably couldn't.
There was too much to deal with. He was worried that if he did fall asleep,
he wouldn't hear the baby. And he was still half-afraid of someone showing
up and finding him naked. (If he stayed awake, he could grab something off
the floor, if he heard somethingthe clothing was too much hassle right now.)
Sarah had told him he had a husband - he was too afraid at the time to ask her
any more about that - how could he have a husband?! He had a penis. Some guy
walking in to find him was not going to be in a friendly mood.
He turned on his side. His right breast was sort of lying on his left
one. This was not what he could have ever imagined. He cupped the boob on
top and squeezed it. It was like anything else that was a part of his body.
Just flesh, except rubbery. He had, secretly, imagined what it might be like
to be a woman. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wondered what it
would be like. He had never acted out any of his hidden fantasies - his life
had come and gone, and he had reached a point where he had believed he was
past his prime - that his life and all his potentials were expended. Any
opportunity or chance to be any different that he hadn't taken advantage of-
wasn't going to be explored. All the wild gender stuff going on now was for
younger people. He giggled. He had always thought that having breasts was
like having two penises on your chest. That by rubbing the nipples, they
would get hard - and you'd get aroused.
After an all day sucking bout with the baby, they felt like milk bottles.
This body was so different. He couldn't lie on his stomach. Lying on his
back felt weird. Like his butt was up on a pillow and then these things fell
sideways against his arms. The hair kept getting caught underneath him and
he couldn't just turn his head - he had to pull it out of the way before he
moved.
What he felt inside was confusing and almost more troubling than the
changes to the way he looked on the outside. He felt like he was filled to
the brim with raw emotions. He used to move through the world almost
mindlessly. There had been episodes with insecuritieswas he performing well-
was he effective and decisive? But now, he couldn't quite regain an handle
on anything that resembled confidence. It was as if he was a little boy
again - wanting a parent to come comfort him - to take care of him. He was in
a twenty year old body apparently. Was this how it was to be twenty? Had he
forgotten?
He touched his penis, but that just felt like so much flesh too. How did
women get aroused? Did they think of nude male bodies? He didn't want to
consider that. He couldn't think of one man that he had ever looked at in
admiration. He wasn't even sure he had seen another man nude in the last
twenty years. The way he used to look - he had understood that some women
found him attractive and sexy - but he really hadn't ever thought about the
parts of it. Had it been his rear - or the hair on his chest? He felt so
goddamn asexual now. He had jacked off at least once or twice every day of
his life - where were the urges now? The thought that a fantasy had been
fullfilled in a strange way - his becoming an almost woman - and having no
sexual yearnings was depressing. He wanted to go back to the ways things
were - if this was going to be it.
Chapter Thirteen :
The loud pounding just outside the window above his head made him jolt
upright in bed. He was naked! He leapt up and grabbed the blouse and skirt
from the floor. The pounding got louder. Someone was hammering the front
door. Ignoring the underwear, he pulled on the blouse and hurriedly buttoned
it over his boobs. He was going to get another skirt - one that he could move
in - but he didn't have time now. He pulled on the tight demin skirt and
zipped and buckled the belt. He was scared. Who the hell would be pounding
on a door like that? Pulling his braids out of the back of the blouse, he
carefully approached the window. He peeked out of one corner of the shade.
It was the blonde guy! The man turned suddenly. His face was contorted. He
spotted Steve through the window.
"Let me in, goddamn it!" he shouted.
Steve backed away.
"Goddamn it!"
The guy was prying the screen off outside the glass. It was tossed aside
in a moment and he was trying the force up the bottom sill. Steve backed up
to the opposite side of the room. What was he going to do? All the guy had
to do was throw something and break the glass and he would be climbing in.
There was nothing in the whole damn house to defend himself with. No knives-
no nothing! He grabbed the telephone and called emergency. It took forever
for someone to come on the line.
"Some guy is trying to break in my house!"
"What's he doing?" came a tiny voice.
"Please! Help me!"
"What's your address?"
The window shattered. Glass flew across the bed. The man reached in,
undid the latch, and yanked the window up. Steve threw the telephone at the
open gap and ran out of the bedroom. Behind him, he could hear the sound of
the glass crunching as the guy climbed inside. He hesitated in the hallway.
He could could run for the back door and get out - but he couldn't leave the
baby! Steve ran to the nursery. The baby was awake and crying. He gathered
her up and turned. The guy was in the only doorway out of the room.
He seemed to be catching his breath. His arms were bleeding from
crawling in through the broken window. Steve looked around the room for
something to throw at him. There wasn't anything! The diaper pail. He
grabbed it with his free hand.
"Stay away from me!" he squeeked.
The guy smiled and stepped toward him. Steve swung the pail and caught
him in the side with it. He fell against the wall and Steve tried to make it
through the doorway. He was caught. The guy had reached up and grabbed his
braid.
"Let go!"
The guy had regained his feet and with the other hand caught the other
braid. He pulled Steve back. He quickly had both braids in one hand at the
back of Steve's neck. Tears came to his eyes. The guy was going to pull his
hair out by the roots!
"You weren't going to go anywhere, were you?" the guy asked.
The baby was screaming in Steve's ear.
"Please, let go! The baby!"
"Yeah. So you feel like one big boob yet?" The guy pulled him around.
"Look at me!"
"What?"
"These, idiot!"
He pulled the buttons apart on Steve's blouse with his other hand. Steve
tried to twist free of him, but the hand at the back of his neck jerked him
back.
"Are you having fun?" the guy shouted.
"Please! Don't hurt me. The baby."
"Are you feeling sexy yet?!" the guy shouted.
"What do you want?"
"My life back, you stupid whore!"
Steve felt crazy. He was dizzy and he couldn't focus.
"Let me go!"
He began thrashing at the guy with his free hand, but it wasn't doing
anything. He was sobbing.
"Please. Don't hurt me any more." he begged. "I'll do anything you
want."
The guy shoved him to the floor. It was all Steve could do to fall
without falling on the baby or losing his grasp of her. She screamed. As
soon as he caught his breath, he scooted across the carpet away from the guy.
He clutched the baby to his neck.
"Hello!" came a shout from the front of the house.
The guy turned.
"What's going on in here?" It was a man's voice.
Chapter Fourteen :
The blonde guy picked up the diaper pail and left the room. He moved
cautiously down the hall.
"Watch out!" Steve screamed at whoever was out front.
The baby was still crying - she was near to having convulsions. He hugged
her tighter and comforted her and then tried to pull himself up. Damn this
skirt! The guy was out of sight. Steve wondered if he might make it out the
back door. There was a sudden shout from the living room and the sound of
scuffling. Then the siren. It stopped out front. Steve ventured out into
the hallway. Men's voices shouted from the living room. There were heavy
feet on the porch. More scuffling.
"Get down, you son-of-a-bitch!"
Steve peeked from the hallway through the dining room. There were two
cops and another man in the living room. The two cops had the blonde guy
down on the floor on his stomach and were putting handcuffs on him. The
front door was wide open. Steve pulled his blouse together with one hand and
went out into the dining room. The cops had the guy up and were shoving him
out the door.
The other man, who Steve had never seen before, turned to him when he
appeared with the baby.
"Are you all right?"
Steve nodded. The baby had begun to sob a little softer.
"I knew you were here by yourself," the man said. "I came in through the
window and the asshole jumped me."
He turned and went out on the porch. Steve followed him. He knew he was
supposed to know who this man was - he hoped he could fake his way through
this and get them out of here.
The cops were stuffing the blonde guy into the back of their patrol car.
After he was locked in, one of them returned to where they were standing.
"So what happened?" the cop asked.
"I'm the next door neighbor." the man told him. "I heard the shouting
and the window break so I came running."
The man was proud of himself. Steve knew he had to be thankful - but all
he wished he could do was go hide somewhere.
"He jumped me the same way he jumped you guys when you came in. I knew I
had to get that door open, if I was going to get some help."
"Do you know this guy?" the cop asked Steve.
"No... He came up to me earlier today when I was out for a walk. He
threatened me then."
"When was that?"
"I don't know - this morning some time. He was standing across the street
when I came out. Then he shows up now. He broke the window and came in that
way." Steve heard his voice break. He swallowed, feeling the tears welling
up again.
A car pulled up and parked behind the patrol car. An angular dark haired
man climbed out and came rushing over. Steve spotted the car and the man
almost immediately. The car was the one he had driven away from the bar last
night. Steve felt faint. The man was the woman he had left with. The face
was the same! The cop turned, following the direction of Steve's stunned
stare. The man came into the yard.
"Who are you?" the cop asked.
"The husband. Sandy, are you all right?"
Chapter Fifteen :
"I guess I'm all right," Steve said - the words barely making it out of
his mouth. He was only slightly aware that the baby had fallen asleep at his
neck or that the neighbor and the cop were talking. He couldn't hear a word
being said. He just stared at the man that had said he was his husband. It
was the woman from the night before all right. The face had no make-up, but
the eyes, the brow and the lips were exactly the same. The hair was the
same - a little flatter. He looked at the man's body. It was a man's. The
shoulders were broad - he was thin in the hips. The woman's hips were what
had convinced him he was following a real woman to her car. The dark suit
and loosened tie were convincing. The man seemed to understand Steve was in
shock. He returned his look with a quick flicker of a wink - as if to tell
Steve he knew exactly what was going on. Steve wanted to kill him. The
son-of-a-bitch did this to me, he thought.
The man broke in on the neighbor reiterating his story for the cop.
"Look, Sandy has had a rough time. Can we come in later and give a full
statement. The baby needs to be taken care of."
The cop looked at him and then at Sandy and finally nodded. The man
pulled out his wallet and pulled out a business card. He borrowed the
policeman's pen and wrote a telephone number on the back.
"This is our home phone. We'll be over in a few hours to file a
complaint. You've got Sam's statement." He turned to the neighbor. "We
really appricate what you've done, Sam. There's no way in world Sandy or I
could ever repay you for this. You could've been killed."
"That's all right. You'd better get them inside and take care of them,"
the neighbor replied, patting him on the shoulder.
The man gently took Steve's elbow and turned him toward the door. Steve
went in. He had a sudden frantic thought that he might be better off outside
with the baby and holding his ripped blouse than coming in here to be alone
with this person - or thing - he didn't know. The cop and the neighbor seemed
like regular people. This man didn't.
Steve glanced up at the man's face. His eyes were looking back at him
everytime he looked - almost as if his thoughts were being read.
"Who are you?" Steve whispered.
"Shhh," the man said and closed and locked the front door.
"Look," he said, turning back to Steve. "I'm really sorry this has
happened. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Why don't you take care of
the baby - or give her to me and I'll take care of her. You need to get
yourself together. You've had a rough time. I can see it in your eyes."
"Why should I do anything you tell me?" Steve was getting angry.
"You don't have to do anything, ok?" He scratched his forehead. "I need
to clean up the glass and figure out something to cover the broken window.
You can do whatever you like. As soon, as that's done and the baby's ok, I
would like a drink. I will tell you everthing, I promise. I'm not a
dishonest person. I was supposed to be here when you woke up this morning."
"Go fix the window," Steve told him.
The man started for the back of the house.
"What's your name, anyway?" Steve called after him.
The man turned, surprised.
"Aaron."
They looked at each other and then Aaron went back through the kitchen.
Well, Steve thought to himself. The baby was asleep - probably from shock.
He carried her back to the nursery and after holding her up and looking her
over to make sure she wasn't bruised or cut, and after nudging her awake a
little, to make sure she wasn't comatose, he put her down in the crib. He
tucked the blankets around her and watched her for awhile just to be sure she
was breathing properly. She didn't seem any the worse for wear. He looked
around the room, thinking things needed to be picked up after that struggle.
(Thinking about sent a shiver through him.) Nothing was a bit out of place.
He turned off the light and went into the bedroom.
He needed some new clothes. The bedroom and the bed had already been
swept clean of the broken glass and Aaron was outside the window, on the
front porch, fitting the outside window sill with a couple sheets of plywood.
He had removed the coat and tie and was busy hammering a piece across the
bottom half of the window. Steve had a strange sensation of somehow watching
himself at work out there. He went to the underwear drawer and picked out a
clean bra and panties. It suddenly dawned on him - if this guy was supposed
to be his husband then where was his clothes - his underwear. He was being
set-up again! Picking out another blouse and skirt from the closet, he
quickly left the room. He imagined that the guy had intended him to change
in the bedroom - just so he could get a eyefull. Then he realized he was just
vain and a bit silly. He was honestly fixing the window, anyway. Steve went
to the bathroom and locked himself in.
He unlocked it a second later and cracked it open so he could hear if
"Aaron" started toward the nursery.
Chapter Sixteen :
Steve found he couldn't hook the clasps on on his bra - his hands were
trembling too much. He sat down on the toilet seat and covered his face with
his hands. He refused to cry. Damn this body! He had been too afraid - he
had been knocked around by a madman - made to beg for his life - if this was
what being a woman was, he didn't want any part of it. And this guy out here
fixing the window! Who the hell was he? To top it all off, he was driven to
be protective and maternal toward a baby that wasn't his! He had been
willing to let the blonde guy rape him just so he'd leave the baby alone.
Right - what was he going to rape? He was truly going crazy.
After a bit, he calmed down and the trembling went away. He stood and
started the process of getting dressed. It seemed to be a processit used to
be so easy - pull on your underwear and pants - button a shirt. Now it was
this bra - and pads, panties that still felt like they rode too high. The
buttons were on the opposite side and the blouses weren't exactly
comfortable - there was either too much fabric or they were tight in places
that made you feel like if you moved too quickly something would rip. This
one buttoned tightly under his boobs - making them even more apparent than
they were - and had sleeves like balloons. The skirt he had picked out was
going to be easier to move in, but it was a real light fabric and flowery.
He felt naked underneath.
He undid the braids, which were nearly unraveled anyway, and combed out
the hair. Washing his face, he looked at himself again - shook his head and
went out.
The guy was sitting in the living room, sipping a drink. There was a
second glass on the coffee table.
"I made you one - I didn't know what you liked...Rum and coke ok?"
"If that's all that's in it," Steve said.
"I promise."
They looked at each other.
"Come and sit down. I won't bite you," Aaron said.
Steve sat. He sipped the drink. It tasted good. He needed one.
"Are you all right - you've been through hell, I know."
"So how did I get in this body? And who the hell are you?" Steve asked.
"I don't know where to start. I'm a different species than you - but not
so different that we don't have things in common and can't interbreed."
"So you're my favorite martian? Give me a break."
"About third generation my favorite martian."
Steve realized he wasn't joking.
"There's about thirty thousand of us - I think. The original families
that immigrated have spread out and inter-married. It hard to know how many
or where we all are now."
Steve didn't know what to say.
"All that's really beside the point, I guess. I met Sandy - whose body
you have now - we fell in love and got married."
"Martians don't need clothes or toothbushes? There's nothing in this
house that belongs to you - how can you be the husband?"
"I understand your anger. Just let me explain. We separated about two
months ago. Look - we have the ability to change our shape...and change
others."
"None of this makes any sense," Steve said. "So you wanted to get a new
Sandy - one that would be what you wanted her to be - or one that would take
you back?"
"Its nothing like that at all. Give me a chance!"
"Go ahead."
"Do you know what a transsexual is?" he asked.
Steve nodded. He swallowed, even though he didn't want to.
"I'm a transsexual. I was born female - but I'm not. Sandy thought she
was in the same boat. Sandy is the blonde guy that the police took away for
attacking you. That's the way he looked when I met him. He was born a man."
"He's mad," Steve said.
"Yeah." Aaron rubbed his face. "We wanted to have children - but we
wanted each other's roles. So I got pregnant with Ally and we started a
transformation. Once the change is complete - 100% complete - it can't be
reversed. By the time I was ready to deliver, I looked like a pregnant man-
with a vagina - and Sandy looked the way you do now. After the baby came the
whole thing blew up. She had trouble dealing with taking care of the baby.
She started hating me - blaming me for all of her discomfort. We split up and
I moved out. She tried to commit sucide twice. I had pretty much decided I
needed to take the baby from her - but she fought me tooth and nail - I looked
like a father - father's don't get custody of new-borns. Three days ago, she
called me to come over and when I got here, she demanded that I change her
back to a man. So I did. She split the moment it was done."
"So you've pulled me into the middle of this mess because you wanted a
nurse for the baby."
"No!" He took a drink. "Well maybe I did - but its not the way you
think. I wasn't - I didn't intend to leave you this way. I was lonely and
crazed. I had a babysitter here when I couldn't be here - I've had no sleep
in three days. The babysitter agreed to stay last night, so I went out to
that bar - I started out just drinking - but the crowd was so gender crazed - I
decided maybe I could find someone else like me. I can disguise myself. And
I met you. We came back here - and you seemed to want it. I can't force a
change on anyone that doesn't want it! Its like hypnosis - I can't make you
do anything against your will. It was supposed to be just a fling - you would
wake up like you were! I'm sorry for all of this. I really am. At two in
the morning, Sandy was out front screaming for me. I went out to talk to
him - he was going to blow his brains out - he had a pistol. I calmed him down
and promised to take him to my place since he wouldn't come in here. I came
back in to get dressed and you wouldn't let me change you back!"
"So you left me here alone with the baby?"
"The babysitter was here - I swear. You can call her if you wantlet me
get you the number." He pulled out his wallet and gave Steve a card with a
number scrawled on it. "She must have got up and saw you in the bed and
thought you were Sandy - so she left."
Steve just gazed at the card.
"So where have you been all fucking day long?" Steve asked.
Aaron looked at the ceiling.
"Well?"
"I was asleep," he murmured.
"What?!"
"I was exhusted. I'm sorry - Look, I'll make it up to you now. You can
go back to your life - just as you were - or better yet, I could shave ten or
fifteen years off your age. Would that make up for this fiasco? I've no
real excuse for what has happened. If there is any way I can fix it - I will."
"Fuck you!" Steve screamed at him. "You expect me to believe all this
cock and bull?"
Aaron stood up.
"Let's get it over with, ok? Then you can get out of here."
Chapter Seventeen :
Steve didn't get up. Aaron was ready to do his magic trick, but Steve
suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the way he had been. To be
honest, he hadn't believed any of it until Aaron stood up.
"What about the baby?" he heard himself ask.
"We'll make out. I've been handling it for three days."
"You've been giving her bottles?"
"She didn't like it at first," Aaron said. "But its been crazy here. A
bottle is a lot better than a suicidal mother."
"What if I gave you more time to get things settled?" Steve asked.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm not sure. I wasn't happy where I was in my life. Maybe this is a
time out. Ally's your baby - would you trust me to help out for a week?"
Aaron shrugged.
"I trust her with the babysitter. What do you want in return?"
"Some blue jeans and some tennis shoes to start. Are all these clothes
your doing?"
"No. Sandy went out of her way to be the ultra feminine perfect
housewife - like if she looked like Donna Reed she would be happy. You want
to be a woman permanently?" Aaron asked.
"Maybe not - I don't like being terrorized or man-handled. You think
Sandy will be back?"
"Not if I press charges. I thought tomorrow that I could hire her a
lawyer and a shrink. I think that it could be worked so she's
institutionalized so she can get some help. I still love her."
"Is it going to bother you that I'm her double?"
He sighed. "Probably."
"I don't think I can sleep with you again," Steve said. "It's too weird."
"All right. You didn't answer my question. What do you want in return?
I think I could handle it easier if it felt like you were working for me," he
said.
"Maybe I want to try on being female, is that all right? I'm a little
scared of the whole thing. I guess what I want you to agree to is to change
me back if I want or leave me the way I am if I want. No more drunken
fantasies."
"All right. Its a deal." Aaron offered his hand. Steve hesitated, but
then shook it. Aaron held on a split second too long.
"There's a few things I need though," Steve said. "I need you to change
my voice back for a about an hour in the morning so I can arrange my absence.
Can you do that?" Aaron nodded. "I want you to take me and the baby
shopping so I can get some more comfortable clothes."
"That's it?"
"That's all I can think of," Steve said.
"You want another drink?" Aaron asked.
"Ok."
"I like you," Aaron said, walking back to the kitchen, "You're tough."
When he returned with their refills, he had a slight grin on his face.
"What's funny?" Steve asked.
"I'm glad I met you. What do I call you - you know, a name?"
"I don't know - how about Steve? I don't know if I'd respond to anything
else."
"You think Stevie might be all right?"
Steve frowned.
"I know how you feel," Aaron said. "I was Erica for years and I hated
it."
Chapter Eighteen :
The second drink had Steve feeling drunk.
"I don't think I'm going to last long. I forgot to eat today," he told
Aaron.
"You want me to fix you something?"
"No, I'm ok. I'm not really hungry. The buzz feels nice. How come I
don't remember anything from last night? The last thing I did was get in
your car and start driving - and you were playing with me."
"Well, I'm not sure. The first time with Sandy, she couldn't remember
either. I guess it has to do with the process. It's sort of like I'm
engulfing you or hypnotizing you."
"Did we fuck?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't that make you feel at little guilty - sort of like fucking
somebody when they're drunk or high?"
"I can't make you do anything against your will."
"So how - I mean - I got a penis. You still got a woman's parts?"
"Yes - and a period."
"So gets on top?"
"Whoever wants to."
"So did you think - pretend I was Sandy?"
"You're still a man - you want to know if she was bigger than you?" Aaron
asked.
"Well, I wasn't really thinking of that."
"You are more agressive - even when you're under in influence. There's a
way of creating an illusion - like the one last night when you thought I was a
full-fledged woman. You can feel what its like to be completely female and I
get to play being a man."
"You did that with Sandy?"
"More and more as time went on - only its hard to keep it up - as they say."
Steve giggled.
"Damn this-" he said. "I catch myself - you know - suddenly I hear this
little girl voice coming out of my mouth. Or I hee hee or I catch myself
chewing on a fingernail. Am I supposed to just fall head first into being a
girl?"
"I think you're getting drunk."
"Time for bed."
Steve stood up and immediately lost his balance. Aaron was up and
grabbing his arm to steady him.
"You can touch?" Steve asked.
"I was afraid you'd hurt yourself."
Aaron let him go. He took a step and grabbed the man's arm again.
"If you'd kindly show me to my room, I guess I'd appreciate it. But you
can't stay."
"I'll sleep out here." Aaron told him.
"I guess that's all right - seeing how you're the employer and all."
Aaron helped him into the bedroom. Once through the door, Steve forgot
himself and started stripping, dropping the blouse and skirt on the floor.
He pulled down the bed clumsily and plopped down. Aaron was still there.
"You didn't see anything, did you? I forgot I'm supposed to be cautious.
The sight of my body might drive you wild with desire. I need to learn that
yet."
Aaron laughed.
"You won't hurt me, will you?" Steve asked.
Aaron was tucking him in.
"No, I promise."
"You know what? The whole reason why I wanted to stay a week?"
"What?"
"The whole reason - besides you being a nice person - was that I really
really like these boobs, you know? I think I've wanted them all my life.
I'm not sure I ever want to lose them."
"Well, you can tell me what you want next week."
"What did you do with my suit?
"Its under the bed. I thought it would be safe there. I couldn't find
an empty hanger."
"Well, it all makes sense now."
Steve snuggled down under the blankets and Aaron turned off the light.
He was soon breathing softly and regularly. Aaron stood in the doorway for a
bit and just watched him sleep. He had a great deal of mixed emotions about
this. He felt he had somehow gotten a second chance. The woman before him
was the gorgeous creature he had helped create. Sandy had asked for looks
and a body that would push all his buttons - but inside Sandy had been so
different. This person was wise and strong and at ease with him. This was
all brand new. Something had to go wrong - she would decide she wanted out-
or worse, that she didn't want him. He was guilty about doing this to her-
he should have given a different body - or given her the choice. Damn it, he
had given her a choice. He had a week. It was up to him to convince her
that maybe she could love him.
Chapter Nineteen :
Steve jumped. There was someone in the room - over the bed! It took a
second to come to his senses. Aaron was standing there in the darkness.
"What?!"
"Ally."
He held out the baby.
"Oh - I thought..."
Steve took the child and nestled down with her next to him. He unsnapped
his bra and dropped the pad on the floor.
"I've heard tell this can be done," he murmured to the baby.
He gave the baby the breast and she was quickly feeding contentedly.
Aaron was leaving.
"Thanks," Steve called after him.
He nursed, dozed, and woke up again and moved her to the other side and
fell asleep again. Again came the dreams of someone or something making love
to this body without him being able to see or feel them. He slept uneasily
and awoke again sometime in the early morning. Groggily, he carried the baby
back to the nursery and put her down in the crib. His bladder was full. He
went to the bathroom surrounded by the dark heavy fog. Pulling down the
front of his panties, he groped for his penis and couldn't find it! Jesus
Christ! His hand felt heavylike he was reaching into a tub of lard. He
tried to wake up more. The heaviness lingered.
"Aaron!" he shouted. "What have you done?!"
He couldn't hold it any longer. Afraid and confused about where it might
come out, he sat on the toilet. It gushed from somewhere inside him, but
afterwards, when he tried to feel there to see what he had, he couldn't seem
to locate any body parts.
"Aaron!" he screamed.
The man's silouhette was in the doorway.
"What's going on?" Steve demanded.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't find my penis!"
"What do you mean?"
"I can't find my penis!"
"You're sleepwalking."
Aaron turned on the light. Steve squinted. He felt like he was rubber.
Everything looked slightly opaque.
"You're shifting shape!" Aaron said.
"Stop it!"
"I'm not doing it, I swear!"
"Help me!"
"Take my hands."
He grabbed Aaron's outstretched fingers. They were a thousand miles
away. He could see that they were holding each other, but he couldn't feel
it in his own hands. There was a thud inside him - like he had just landed
after jumping in the air. The fog dissolved into stars flickering away from
his face. He could feel himself again. He looked down. The penis was there
now. Did it look smaller?
Releasing Aaron's hands, he pulled up his panties.
"What happened?"
"I don't have any idea. You're doing something on your own, I think."
Steve quickly looked at himself in the mirror. The face was the same.
"Is it going to happen again?"
"I don't know-"
Aaron looked tired. The shirt he was was wearing as a nightshirt was
badly rumpled. Steve glanced at the man's bare legs. They were hairy.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe about four thirty," Aaron said.
"I don't think I can sleep anymore. What if this happens again?"
"Well, I'm here. I'll catch you."
"You going to stay awake?"
"If you want me to," Aaron said.
"I'll go put something on. Don't go back to sleep, please."
Aaron nodded. Steve edged by him and returned to the bedroom. He rifled
the drawers, hoping to find something that wasn't a extra short frilly gauzey
nightie, but had no luck. Frustrated, he finally just grabbed one. Damn
this bra - suddenly he was aware how uncomfortable it was. Pulling it off, he
slipped the nightie over his head and went to find Aaron.
Part II - Chapter Twenty :
Sandy woke up on the bench. He was stiff from sleeping on the hard
surface of the wood and his neck ached. It was middle of the night. The
lights in the holding cell had been turned off, so the light from the hallway
beyond the bars cast long shadows behind the bodies of the sleeping men. The
bars seemed to be spread across them like a blanket. The stench was
overpowering. The floor and the walls smelled of urine and soured alcohol
and sweat.
He sat up, feeling as though he had awakened in the middle of a
nightmare. He was a man all right - transformed back - and plopped into this
morass of manhood. He wanted to cry. Where had his pretty dresses gone?
With his headache. This was the first time in four days that he could
sit up and look around without his forehead pounding. Where had it gone? He
could think now. Before, through all of what he could remember of what had
brought him here, he hadn't been able to see clearly or have one clear
thought without the thundering pain.
He watched the two men in the open cubical where the toilets were. They
had pulled their shirts off and were stuffing them into one of the toilets.
They were flushing over and over again. Water began to seep over the top and
splash on the tile floor. They kept on pumping the handle. They must be
insane, he thought to himself. Should he call the guard - or pretend to go
back to sleep. If they realized he was awake, they might decide to hassle
him. He watched in fascination as the water continued to pour out across the
floor. In a bit, it was running out into the main cell. Some of the men
began to stir when the water reached them. Soon, one of the sleeping men
jumped up shouting.
"What the fuck are you doing, you assholes?!!"
Others were up, cussing and shaking themselves. Someone was shouting for
the guards. The water had now covered a third of the cell.
The guards arrived quickly and were soon inside, trying to strong-arm
their way through the confused angry men. They were pulling the two culprits
away from the toilets. Sandy retreated to a far corner, away from the water
and the commotion. He couldn't really see what was going on. There were too
many bodies between him and the toilets. Finally, the two men were pulled
outside and were struggling with the guards. They broke free and began to
run down the hallway.
As the cell door had been left open by mistake, a number of the men began
shoving their way out. Sandy joined them, elbowing his way among the others
that all had the same idea. He couldn't even see the door, but he struggled
anyway. He had to escape this. Somehow he reached itonly to be pushed to
the floor right outside. Legs surrounded him, rushing this way and that.
His hands and feet were trampled. He crawled down the hallway on all fours,
trying to stay up despite the abuse around him. Guards were fighting with
the men standing upright. A baton whacked his back. He crawled on and
finally found a space near wall where he could regain his feet. There was
fighting all around him. He was in front of a restroom door. He slipped
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