Altered Fates - Gun Moll  by: Geoff

This is a piece of adult fiction and as such contains adult themes. It is intended to be read by grown ups, so if you aren’t grown up (i.e. over 18), then please go elsewhere. The people described in the story are figments of my fevered imagination, so if you think one of the characters is you, then please return to my head where you belong. You can’t be real.

This work is copyright 2001 to me, geoff1940. If you wish to post it anywhere, please ask me first. If it’s a free site then I’ll almost certainly say ‘yes please’, but I would like to know where it is.

email for comments etc. Geoff1940@eudoramail.com

Foreword

I don’t want to write like Gwynneth Paltrow sounded at the Oscars, but this is my first ever completed piece of fiction, and I’d like to acknowledge the inspiration of one or two people. First Rebecca Anderson, who first allowed me a small involvement in the creative process, then Jenny Jane Pope, who first set me (and the rest of her writers group) a challenge I found I could go a small way to meeting, and lastly to Joan Banks who provided the competition to write a story round one of the pictures on her site.

First the inspiration. Joan’s competition centred round the picture of a glamorous woman wielding a pistol. Now, I don’t know about you, but the glamour didn’t speak to me of the late 20th century, let alone the 21st. No, she was definitely US 1940s or 50s, and made me think of Veronica Lake, or Rita Heyworth (remember them?), in other words, my childhood. The time scale was a bit tight and I write slowly, so the result is a bit rough in places. I wrote it as light relief from my main project which will not see the light of web for some time I suspect, so my fan(s) will have to be satisfied with this! :-) It is, to some extent ‘plucked untimely from its mother’s womb’ so please be gentle with this premature child.

The characters didn’t always do as I wanted. So if you don’t like it, blame them, not me. I’m only the recorder!

As for the location, I know nothing of the America of that time, apart from only vaguely remembered films, and the oft repeated rule is write about the things you know. I know about life in the Yorks/Notts/Derbys coalfield, because that’s where I was brought up. In case you’re unfamiliar with English geography it’s counted as being in the ‘almost North’ of the North Midlands, so a lot of English readers from the South of England may be as ignorant as the US ones. The North/South divide, don’t you know?

My hero, Jimmy, is about the age I was then, and knows as little about America as I did, so that’s all right. He could have been one of my school mates - or even me! If you’ve read D H Lawrence, particularly ‘Son’s & Lovers’ or Women in Love’ you’ll be in familiar country. Not that I’m claiming any parity, of course! He wrote real novels.

That’s the location, now the time. In Britain, rationing continued long after the war. Sweets (candy) were rationed well into the 1950s, clothes, bread, meat, petrol (gas) likewise. Making the most of the ration was an obsession with most housewives (no women’s lib then!). It is said that people were actually better fed during rationing than at any other time, because peoples needs were carefully worked out by nutritionists and were used to design the basic ration.

Many of the houses built by the pit owners for their workers, before the war, were without electricity and were lit with gas. Those same houses also often lacked any indoor plumbing except for a water tap in the kitchen. For mining families the only thing not in short supply was coal, which was provided as part of their wages.

Radios were called wireless sets, and in houses with no mains electricity were powered by a rechargeable 2 volt glass lead/acid accumulator and a large dry 120v battery. Batteries were expensive and the accumulator had to be charged weekly, so people only used them sparingly.

Pubs closed at 10pm and fags (cigarettes) were often unobtainable. The only entertainment was the ‘pictures’ (movies). Programmes always had a ‘little picture’, a ‘big picture’, a news reel, and a cartoon. The programme changed completely at least twice a week, sometimes three times, so there was plenty to go at. There were double seats on the back row. The Saturday ‘threepenny rush’ was much like I describe in the story.

Boys wore short trousers all the time, with long woollen socks that always needed darning. I can hardly believe it now, but we even went sledging and snow balling whilst wearing shorts. I had my first long trousers at the age of 15, admittedly a little late, but it was from choice (well, I was at an all boys school, so there were no girls to impress!)

The language. Obviously English, but often spoken in such a broad accent and with dialect words and sentence construction thrown in, that strangers had great difficulty in understanding the locals.

The main differences in pronunciation from the Southern English most Americans come across are the short ‘u’ (said as the ‘oo’ in book - although ‘book’ is sometimes pronounced with a long sound as in moo, by dialect speakers) and the hard ‘a’ (in other words without the intrusive ‘r’ as in Barth or grarss). There are lots more differences, but those are the main two.

Now a few words. There are lots more in Jenny Pope’s Britionary in her section of Crystal’s Story Site. Recommended reading for all anglophiles - I even learned a few new words, especially cockney rhyming slang, and her explanation for the derivation of ‘tow rag’ as an insult is most convincing.

Ayup Just a greeting. (‘What’s up’, is often used, but it’s a version of ‘what’s the matter? As in ‘What’s up wi’ it youth?)

gadder slang for catapult

twitchel path between houses, also passage, ginnel, alley

cut canal

Hovis a variety of wholemeal bread, locally baked with special flour

spiv downmarket black marketeer, also wide boy, because of their padded shoulders. Don’t know derivation of spiv. Bet Jenny Pope does :-).

youth commonly used word for any male over the age of about fourteen. Usually pronounced ‘yothe’ or something like that!

If anyone has any queries or comments about either the period or the location please feel free to contact me and I’ll try to explain.

 

Altered Fates - Gun Moll
by: Geoff 

 

Jimmy Samson strolled down the street. His eyes roamed from side to side - this was dangerous territory. His enemies were everywhere. They could jump him at any time with no warning. Anything could happen, and then it did. A scream shattered the silence. Jimmy’s hand went to his inside pocket and his hand closed round the butt of his trusty Gat. Then there was a second more urgent scream. Now there was real trouble.

"James Albert Samson, if you don’t get back here at once for your tea, then I’m giving it to the dog and you’re straight to bed."

When his Mam used his full name he knew she meant business. They didn’t even have a dog! Why was he still at the beck and call of grown ups? Crumbs he was nearly twelve. He’d be at the big school when he started back in September - practically a man. Especially as his Mam had almost been persuaded to buy him some long trousers for school. He’d still have to wear his shorts for playing in at night and weekends, but he’d be almost grown up during the day, and it meant he wouldn’t have to waste valuable time washing his knees every night. As he turned and started to run down the twitchel something glittered in the dusty grass at his feet. It could be a half crown. Billy Williamson had found a bob last week, they’d bought five Woodbines and made themselves sick, smoking in the bushes at the back of the rec. No such luck, it was a sort of medal hanging on a bit of dirty ribbon. Well he might be able to swap it for something, so he shoved it in his britches pocket along with a penknife with one good and one broken blade, a lump of Plasticene that was that funny sludge grey you get when all the different colours get mixed up together, and three ‘glassie’ marbles he’d won off Billy at playtime, even though Billy had protested he’d not been playing for keeps. The other pocket was reserved for ammo. The tin of .177 pellets for his precious Gat, and a collection of smooth, round pebbles just right for his gadder.

He swung with one hand on the gate post into the back yard and immediately slowed to a sedate walk. A quick glance to make sure his Mam wasn’t watching through the kitchen window and then he slid his air pistol and catapult into the secret hiding place behind a loose brick in the coal shed. Pausing only to pull up his socks he casually stepped into the little kitchen of the terraced house, his angelic face the picture of injured innocence.

"I were just coming, Mam", he said "I never heard you first time".

Betty Samson looked up from the table, where she was pouring tea from a round, brown tea pot. "If you didn’t hear me, how did you know there was a first time? And how many times do I have to tell you. It’s ‘the first time’, not just ‘first time’. How do you expect to get a good office job if you go round talking like a pit lad?" She ruffled his already tousled fair hair, with a tired smile, and patted his backside gently, "Come on now, sit down and eat your tea. It’s your favourite, cheese on toast and there’s some of your Gran’s home made blackberry jam after."

Jimmy sat down and spooned sugar into his tea. "I won 3 glassie marbles off Billy Williamson this after’s playtime." He giggled. "He were dead mad. And Mrs Stewart says we break up for summer holidays ...." he paused as he caught his mother’s expression, and cleared his throat "the summer holidays, a week on Friday. So can I stay over at Billy’s after? His Dad says he’ll take us fishing down the cut on Saturday, and it’ll be easier if I stay at their house".

"Well we’ll have to see what your Dad says when he gets in from work. He’s on afternoons this week so he’ll not be home while half past ten. And go easy on that sugar, it’s on ration and I want some for baking tomorrow. If you do go fishing, I want no more maggots in this house. Not after last time".

"No, Mam" replied her son, as he busied himself spreading a generous quantity of jam on top of the thin layer of butter on the slice of Hovis. How was he to blame? He’d just left the remains of a pint of maggots under his bed for a while. The flies just appeared after three days. There weren’t that many. Well, he supposed they were big blue ‘uns, but a few sticky fly papers and a Flit spray had cleared them out in a couple of days. Why do mothers get so upset over nowt? One of the mysteries of life he supposed.

He looked up at the clock ticking away on the mantle over the black leaded range. The range was the power centre of the house, it provided cooking, heating and a limited supply of hot water for the zinc bath hanging in the back yard. It was nearly time, so he jumped up to the shiny wooden wireless on the dresser in the middle room and turned it on. He hoped there was still enough life left in the big glass accumulator to make the valves glow. He’d have to take it in to get it re-charged tomorrow afternoon after school and pick up another one for next week. Then he’d be able to listen to Dick Barton, Special Agent, and his parent’s to the news and Saturday Night Theatre.

The notes of "The Devil’s Gallop" introduced the further adventures of Dick, Jock and Snowy, and Jimmy settled down to find out how they’d escaped from the previous evening’s impossible situation. He knew they’d only find themselves in even more dire straits fifteen minutes later, ready for further escapes tomorrow at a quarter to seven. Jimmy wished he had his trusty Gat in his hand ready to defend beautiful girls from shifty foreigners and Nazi spies, but his mother had forbidden him to own such a dangerous toy. She didn’t even know he’d made a new catapult after she’d thrown his previous one on the fire back. Jimmy had been very upset to lose his gadder and it had taken him several days to find a suitable forked branch to make a new peg and even longer to persuade his best pal, Billy, to part with a suitable length of 1/4" square elastic to give it life. He’d still had enough of the soft leather he’d saved from the tongue of his dad’s old pit boots to make a new pouch. His Mam just didn’t understand. No self respecting eleven year old Bestwick lad could hold his head up without a gadder in his back pocket and his position was considerably elevated by being the owner of a Gat air pistol. The Gat was a poor thing compared to a Webley, but considerably cheaper, and more easily concealed than the more accurate and powerful BSA Cadet air rifle he craved.

 

Betty Samson sighed as she watched her only son listening avidly to the adventure serial on the old wireless. She’d despaired when he’d fallen at the first big hurdle in his education, by failing to get a scholarship to the Grammar school, but she was determined he wasn’t going down the pit where most of the town’s lads ended up. Not that the money wasn’t reasonable, especially if, like her husband, you got to be a deputy responsible for pit safety and firing. Then you could bring home twelve pounds a week. No, it was the dirt, the danger and the coarse male cameradie she found so repulsive. Jimmy’s Dad was at heart a quiet, sensitive man, but his work and his companions tended to roughen him at times when she needed tenderness. It had been hard enough to raise a family during the war, but rationing was still as bad as ever. Even though there was no blackout, and enemy aircraft no longer rumbled overhead to bomb the furnaces of Sheffield to the North or the aero-engine factories of Rolls-Royce to the South, life in the coal field was difficult. If Jimmy couldn’t be a doctor or a lawyer, then if she kept at him he could at least get a clean job like Mr Williamson, who was a manger at the Co-op Store and lived in a 3 bedroomed semi-detached house he was buying with a Co-op mortgage. The Williamson’s had electricity, an inside bathroom and a big radiogram that could play records one after the other without pause, not like their little wind up which needed a new steel needle for each record and sometimes ran down before the end, making Vera Lynne sound like Hutch. There were even rumours that Mr Williamson had ordered a new car for delivery next year. If he had, the Williamsons would be the first people she’d known who had a car. Jimmy was going to speak properly, study hard, and get a good clean, respectable job if it killed her.

 

The rest of the week dragged on for Jimmy, but at last it was Friday and two whole days with no school and only another five school days before the seeming interminably, gloriously long Summer holidays. He walked home with Billy, making plans. "Are you going to pictures tomorrer?" The definite article rarely made an appearance in his speech if his mother wasn’t listening, and his accent broadened to suit the circumstances. At least she’d be pleased that the second person singular was absent. The use of ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ was common amongst the older men, but was dying out with the influence of the BBC and the ‘pictures’.

The Saturday afternoon children’s ‘matinee’ was an important feature of their lives. For threepence they could see the serial, currently Kit Carson and the Mystery Riders, a few cartoons and a ‘big picture’. Actually ‘seeing’ was nearly all they could do. The noise of two hundred children let loose in a darkened cinema was unbelievable, and certainly more than two usherettes shining their torches along the rows trying to identify the fighting, scuffling kids could control. Occasionally the film would stop, the main lights would come on and the fat, balding manager would threaten to stop the performance if there wasn’t silence. It usually worked for ten minutes or so until furtive scuffles broke out again, but the manager had made the effort, and he’d already got their threepences in his till.

"Yeh, after I’ve run errands for me Mam". replied Billy "There’s a gangster picture this week". Jimmy’s eyes lit up. They were his favourites. Life seemed a lot more exciting in America. Gangsters driving in fast cars being chased by G men firing ‘typewriters’. Jimmy knew everybody in America called machine guns, ‘typewriters. He thought they carried them in violin cases. He was never quite sure why. The glamorous ‘molls’, with painted finger nails and with cigarettes hanging in the corner of their carmined lips so the smoke drifted past their heavily lidded, mascara’d eyes, specially intrigued him. His Mam reckoned Billy’s sister, Susan, was fast, because she painted her nails and wore lipstick and nylons even though she was only a machinist at Harvey’s knicker factory. She was also incredibly extravagant with her clothing coupons as she wore the long ‘New Look’ skirts and 5" heels when she went out dancing on Saturday nights. She came home at all hours, sometimes even after midnight. No better than she should be, was the opinion of the close knit community’s respectable matrons. And just who was supplying her with all the coupons and a seemingly endless supply of nylons? Some black market spiv, no doubt.

Jimmy was a secret admirer of his friend’s older sister. Her perfume and the mysterious underpinning to the exotic outfits she wore for her Saturday night outings particularly attracted him. He knew she was pretty old, nearly as old as his Mam. She’d celebrated her twenty first birthday last year with the wildest party anyone had ever seen at the Miners Welfare. There had been guests from as far afield as Derby and Sheffield and at least one sophisticated couple had arrived in a car all the way from London. The party would have gone on all night if the steward hadn’t closed up the bar when the licence extension had run out at half past eleven and cleared them out laughing and giggling into the cool night air. If truth be told, it was Susan’s clothes and makeup that fascinated Jimmy, rather than the young woman herself. It was his big secret. Even Billy, in whom he confided all his secrets, (even to the location of his gadder and Gat hidy hole), had never been party to this. Jimmy knew, or rather felt, that there was something slightly shameful in his secret desire to be the moll, rather than the gangster.

 

It wasn’t until the following afternoon when they came blinking into the sunshine after being absorbed in the imaginary world of the pictures, that Jimmy remembered the medal he’d found earlier in the week. His head was full of smoking guns and cigarettes hanging from Rita Heyworth’s painted lips which had totally absorbed him and fed his fantasies. How she’d seduced Spencer Tracy and killed a man with a little pearl-handled revolver which to Jimmy’s fertile imagination was little different from the Gat which even now nestled in the pocket of his jacket. He wondered what it would be like to have long red finger nails like the star. He assumed they were red only because Susan’s were always red. They were just a shade of grey on the screen. He’d once seen a colour picture of Rita Heyworth in one of Susan’s film magazines, and she had long, wavy, red hair much like Susan’s. Funnily enough, out of the whole Williamson family, Susan was the only one with that particular shade. It must have changed when she got old, because Jimmy remembered it as a non-descript brown before she went to work at Harvey’s. He thought that was the perfect hair colour for a moll. He wondered if the medal was the sort of thing a moll might wear round her neck. He decided to try it out when he got home.

 

He and Billy parted company at the end of his street and he ran the rest of the way home. He was getting hungry and his pocket money hadn’t been able to run to an ice cream or even a half penny chew from the kiosk in the foyer. Unusually, the house was empty when he got home, and a note was propped up on the table.

‘Dear Jimmy’ it read. ‘Your Dad has gone to the match. I’ve had to go to your Gran’s because she’s had one of her turns. Your tea’s ready on the table. Make sure you wash up afterwards. Be in bed for half past eight. If you want anything go round to Mrs Evans. We’ll see you in the morning. Don’t worry, Love Mam’

Mrs Evans was the old lady who lived next door. Jimmy thought she was a bit of a busy body, but she was kind and Jimmy got on with her fairly well. He knew his Dad wouldn’t get back until after the pub shut at ten - Rovers were playing away. He hoped they won because it put Dad into a good mood and he often got a two bob bit slid into his hand on Sunday morning with strict instructions not to tell Mam. So he had the rest of the evening to himself. He could read his comic, and find out what Rockfist Rogan was doing and if Alf Tupper who lived under a railway arch and trained on fish and chips had won the Uppertown Athletics meeting he’d entered in last week’s episode.

 

Jimmy filled the kettle and set it on the trivet by the open fire in the range. He lifted the cover and found a plate full of ham sandwiches and a tomato. For a treat his mother had left a dish of tinned pears from her precious war time store cupboard together with a little tin of sweet, thick condensed milk. A feast indeed, even though the ham was sliced so thinly it was almost transparent. He ate steadily, all the time thinking about the afternoon’s film. Once the kettle boiled he mashed his tea and poured himself a cup, sweetened with the remains of the condensed milk and took out the medal for examination. As far as he could see it had an embossed image of an angel or fairy on one side and some faint words on the other. The dirty green ribbon was threaded through a loop and tied in a knot. He looked round for something to polish it up a bit and pulled a handkerchief he’d found lying in the playground the day before out of his pocket. He rubbed the medal vigorously in an effort to improve its appearance. As he did so he felt a small electric shock pass up his arms and disperse around his body. He thought nothing of it and continued polishing - that was to prove a mixed blessing!

As he tried to make out the letters, his hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it away impatiently. What were the letters? was that a ‘Z’ or a figure ‘2’? .... and an ‘o’ at the end? That was it. It read ‘Medallion of Zolo’ or perhaps, it was ‘Zulo’. His hair fell into his eyes again and when he swept it away it brushed his shoulders. It shouldn’t be that long, he’d only been to the barbers a week ago, and ‘butcher’ Harrison had performed his usual clippers up the back of the neck style which left stubble everywhere except for a bit on the top. Not only that, his hair was such a dark brown as to be almost black, the hair he could see was blonde. He ran into the front room, where a mirror hung over the tiled fireplace, and stared at his reflection. Where before his hair had been short and dark it was now long and fair. His face didn’t look quite right either, and he was having to stand on tip toe to see his face clearly. He was having difficulty reaching the tile mantel shelf. He seemed to be shrinking. There was a weird rush of air into his mouth and the next time he looked he was short of his two front teeth. This was really frightening, he wished his Mam was home. He needed the comfort of her reassuring presence.

"Whatth happening to me?" he lisped. Even his voice was changing, and not only because of his lack of teeth. It was a bit higher pitched and babyish, or perhaps even .... girlish. He ran upstairs to his parents bedroom, as he ran his shoes came off and his trousers ended up in a heap at his feet, almost causing him to trip. He stared into the big mirror set in his mother’s wardrobe. Instead of himself he saw a small frightened girl with long blonde hair, missing teeth and a pretty, blue eyed face, Bethany Evan’s face. She was wearing a grey shirt many sizes too big for her small frame. Beth, the little granddaughter of their next door neighbour, was in a class three years below his. She was just eight years old and one of the prettiest little girls in the school. Jimmy felt bewildered as unbidden memories came into his head. He knew what her bedroom looked like. He knew the name of her favourite doll. He remembered playing skipping games and hopscotch with her friends at playtime. Unknown to him, by continuing to rub the Medallion after the change was initiated some superficial memories had been transferred along with the physical transformation.

 

Sure, he’d often imagined being the moll, rather than the tough gangster, but starting out as an eight year old hadn’t been part of the game plan. Despite failing the scholarship exam Jimmy wasn’t a fool. He had a sharp innate intelligence, if only he could summon the confidence to use it. In desperation, now he did. He went into his own bedroom and sat on the bed to think, still toying with the medallion. What had he been doing before the shocking change had happened? He’d been polishing the medallion with a handkerchief he’d found. They were both still in his tiny delicate hands. He examined the handkerchief carefully and saw the initials BE embroidered in one corner, in fact if he didn’t force himself too much he could remember embroidering it him.....herself in Miss Beresford’s sewing class only last week and tucking into her knickers before going to school, where it had taken an imprint of her youthful persona. Well, if rubbing the medallion with something belonging to Bethany had turned him into her, perhaps rubbing it with something belonging to him might reverse the process. He got hold of his shirt tail and vigorously polished away, but nothing happened. He remembered the tingly feeling of electric shock when he’d first started polishing, but this time - nothing. He began to panic, but suppressed the feeling. Perhaps the Medallion was like the accumulator they had in their wireless downstairs and needed to recharge before it could work again. He decided to try again every hour until either it worked or he fell asleep.

 

He remembered that his mother had told him to make sure and do the washing up before he went to bed and decided to get that out of the way first. What should he wear? His own clothes were far to big, but his mother had been collecting jumble for the Women’s Institute sale the following week and he thought he’d seen some girl’s clothes in the bag. He found the bag tucked in beside his mother’s wardrobe and he sorted through until he found a little pair of flowered knickers and a blue dress with a tiny white check and white lace trim. That would do for now, he decided. He could run round bare foot in the house, even though the stone quarry tiles in the kitchen would be a bit cold to his feet. To keep his hair out of the way he found a blue ribbon on his Mam’s dressing table, which would serve his purpose.

Up until now he’d kept on his shirt which was much too big, even as a dress and so hadn’t yet properly seen his new body. He pulled the shirt off over his head and looked at himself critically. Needless to say his eyes were drawn to the strange void between his legs. Instead of his prick, (capable, with an effort, of projecting his piss higher up the boys lavatory wall than just about anybody in his class, except perhaps Pete Brown, who was already showing a few whispy pubic hairs), was a small hairless slit, and even his nipples looked different from the ones he was used to. Suddenly he was regretting the three cups of tea he’d drunk earlier. There was no doubt about it he had to go, but how? There was no way he was going across the yard looking like he did. If Mrs Evans saw what appeared to be her granddaughter in next doors lavvy, what would she do? Then he remembered his chamber pot under the bed, normally reserved for nocturnal relief, it offered a safe solution to his problem. Just in time to avoid a minor catastrophe, he turned from his usual kneeling position to sitting down and experienced the relief of emptying his new bladder. He still felt wet after he’d done, and finding the ‘shake it’ technique not applicable, pulled a square of newspaper off the conveniently placed string and wiped himself carefully.

The early summer evening was becoming cooler and the drop in temperature reminded him of the need to get dressed. He pulled up the knickers, which fitted him to perfection and pulled the dress over his head and fastened the three buttons at the neck. Returning to his parent’s room he stood in front of the dressing table mirror and studied his reflection carefully. Apart from his dishevelled hair he looked exactly like Bethany. He found that if he didn’t concentrate too hard the action of brushing his long hair with his mothers hair brush came quite naturally and he soon teased out the tangles, leaving a mane of shining blonde hair reaching down his back. He picked up the blue ribbon and a couple of hair slides and he soon had his hair tied back with the ribbon stretched across his hair line above his blonde arched eyebrows.

Once downstairs, he quickly put the kitchen to rights, picked up his discarded clothing and returned to his room to retry the reverse transformation. He tried several items of his clothes: clean shirts, dirty shirts retrieved from the wash, and handkerchiefs, but drew a blank each time. By this time dusk was falling and he could no longer see properly, so he decided to light the gas, but then he found another obstacle - he couldn’t reach the mantle to light it with a match. He was too small.

 

His new, smaller body was younger than his own and tired more easily. He quickly grew too tired to continue his efforts and was having problems keeping his eyes open, so he removed the dress, hid it under his pillow, and crawled under the bed covers. He’d had an exhausting day and was soon fast asleep. Several hours later, his mother looked in on him from the door. It was dark, but she noticed his hair seemed rather long and made a note to send him for a hair cut when he got home from school on Monday.

 

Jimmy had started to polish the Medallion at about six o’clock on the Saturday evening, so it was ready for re-use with his body at 6 on Sunday morning, but he didn’t know that.

The early morning sun found its way through the thin curtains and shone into Jimmy’s eyes just before seven, and he stirred. What a strange dream he’d had. Why would he dream he was Bethany Evans? She wasn’t even one of his normal female fantasies. He tried to sit up, but something was pulling on his head stopping him. His elbow was resting on his hair; his long blonde hair! With a twist, he moved his arm and sat up, and looked at his hands and arms through a curtain of hair. It hadn’t been a dream. It had really happened. With a sinking heart he recalled the previous night’s adventures. What would he tell his Mam? Crumbs, if she’d got upset about the maggots, she’d kill him for this! He thought he might be able to pacify his Dad, after all they were lads together and enjoyed the bond of masculinity - well they had done before this happened. He wondered what time it was. He knew his parents wouldn’t stir until half past eight, when Dad would go downstairs, rake the fire back into life and ladle some water into the boiler so they could all have hot water for a wash.

He’d have one more try at regaining his former body before confessing his misdemeanour to his parents. He retrieved the Medallion from its hiding place under his pillow and picked up a clean shirt. "Well, here goes nothing" he muttered, and started polishing. To his relief, he felt the same electric like tremor extend up his arms and into his whole body. This time he was prepared for, and watched the transformation. First his hair began to darken and seemed to recede into his head, and almost at the same time he began to grow taller. He was most interested in the action between his legs and he watched with fascinated relief as his prick gradually pushed out of the slit and eventually his filled scrotum took up its former position, until at last all was as before. Well almost all, his hair looked as long as it had before ‘butcher’ Harrison had shaved it well back the previous week.

 

Jimmy calmly lay back on his pillow and gave it all a bit of deep thought. First, the change had happened when he’d rubbed the Medallion with Bethany’s hankie. Second, nothing had happened when he’d tried the same thing last night, with any of his own clothes or hankies to reverse the transformation. Third, when he’d tried to change back this morning it had done exactly as it had the first time, but in reverse when using his own shirt. Fourth, once he’d changed back, everything was fine - except his hair needed cutting again.

Demonstrating an instinctive grasp of logic, that, if he’d applied it to his exams, would have seen him off to the Grammar school next term, he drew some conclusions. First, the medallion needed to be re-charged like an accumulator before it could be used again. At least used again on him. Second, the re-charge might need a nights sleep, or perhaps just at the most thirteen hours, but why did he now need a haircut? He thought some more, and then the penny dropped. He needed a haircut, because the last time he’d worn that clean shirt had been before he’d been to the barber’s. The Medallion transformed people into a copy of whoever had worn a piece of clothing last, so it had turned him into the Jimmy Samson who needed a haircut. That meant he was now a week younger than he had been last night. Did that mean he could live forever? If he kept changing himself, it did. Small boys aren’t normally concerned with their own mortality, and Jimmy was no different. No, his fertile imagination was thinking about gangster’s molls, and about Billy’s big sister in particular. Susan was the nearest thing to a gangster’s moll he knew.

 

He was busting to tell Billy about his new treasure, but managed to contain himself all that slow week, the last week of the Summer term. He made good use of the time to form a plan to use the medallion. It was risky, but he wouldn’t get a better chance. One of the worst bits all week was being sent to Harrison’s by his mother for another haircut - two in a fortnight was pushing it a bit. He hated the itchy feeling as short bits of hair worked their way down his neck. Mrs Samson had been amazed at the state of his hair and had smilingly accused him of eating horse manure to make his hair grow so fast, before giving him the shilling for another attack by the demon barber of Bestwick.

 

He resisted the temptation to experiment all week, until Thursday evening when his Dad was at the pit and his Mam had to visit his Gran again.

"Now then, Jimmy" she said "You’ll be a good boy, won’t you? I’ll probably stay at your Gran’s tonight so I won’t be here for your bedtime. Just make sure you’re in bed by half past eight and make sure the fire’s well damped and don’t leave the gas lit when you go up". She bent down to give him a kiss. "Your Dad’ll be home at half ten, so you won’t be on your own all night. Get yourself off to school in the morning so Dad can have his lie in. Be good, love, and if you need anything just bang on the wall and Mrs Evans’ll come round", and she hurried out the door.

 

Jimmy looked at the clock as soon as he was alone. It was only five o’clock. If he started straight away, he could try a transformation, using something out of the jumble sale bag and be ready to change back well before he had to go to school in the morning. His Dad might just look in on him when he got in, but if he hid under the bedclothes and pretended to be asleep, he’d be safe. The temptation was irresistible, and it would give him some practice before carrying out his plan at the weekend.

He ran up the stairs two at a time and took the jumble bag from his parent’s room and into his own and started sorting. He fancied being a bit older this time, but not really old. At least, this time he’d have something to wear that’d fit him exactly. Eventually he found just what he was looking for. A slim black tailored skirt and matching short velvet collared jacket, second hand, but in very good condition. He’d also found a pair of shiny black high heeled shoes. There were a few items of brand new under wear - brassieres, slips and a firm elasticated girdle with suspenders hanging at the bottom that he thought had been supplied by Harvey’s - probably ‘seconds’. No knickers, but Jimmy thought no-one respectable would give knickers to a jumble sale - even at the WI.

He first stripped off, and then cautiously picked up the skirt and started rubbing the medallion with it. Again he experienced the electric tingle and his second transformation began. This time he watched whilst standing in front of his mother’s wardrobe mirror. This time his hair stayed dark, but grew in thick waves down to his shoulders and instead of shrinking he grew taller. Most disturbing were the two swelling that gradually formed on his chest, until they were fully fledged, firm breasts. Jimmy’s eyes stared at his new figure and so fascinated was he at his first sight of a pair female breasts that he missed the disappearance of his prick and its replacement by a much more mature pussy, surrounded by dark, curly hair. He, or rather she, was now fully complete, and Jimmy studied his new body with interest. She was about five feet 5 inches tall, delightfully curved with long dark hair falling to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were set either side a straight, small nose, and her full lips were slightly curved. She was about the same age as Billy’s sister. As he stared, memories began to invade his mind. For Jimmy they were disturbing memories of erotic encounters. He recalled a tall fair haired young man, and a passionate tongue probing kiss. He felt a dampness between his slender thighs and he started breathing with short, frequent pants. His mouth felt dry. Then a different man, older this time, and slightly balding, he felt anger, an argument. It was the woman’s father, forbidding her from meeting the fair haired man. Jimmy suddenly realised his new name was Angela Cavendish-Hart, and her father was Colonel Cavendish-Hart. He’d never seen Angela or her father, but he’d heard his parents talk about them. They had been coal owner’s before the war and lived in a large house in it’s own grounds at the edge of the town. They were the local gentry, and Jimmy was now the twin of the Squire’s daughter.

 

Angela wasn’t Jimmy’s ideal of the gangster’s moll. She was too cool and sophisticated for that, but there was, never the less, an excitement in being her. He still had over three hours to experiment and he wanted to see what he could look like fully dressed before he had to get into bed to deceive his father - why did he almost call him ‘Daddy’? He found one of the brassieres matched the size that sprung into his head and he put it on, almost without thought. It made his already firm breasts stand out and drew them upwards to increase the impression of cleavage. He put on a full length slip followed by the tight skirt and the short jacket. After putting on the shoes (no stockings, there were none in the bag, and it would have been suicide to raid his mother’s precious stock) he walked surprisingly easily in the 4" heels and with a feminine sway to survey himself in the full length mirror. He saw a slender attractive woman with dishevelled thick, dark, wavy hair. She wore a smart, tightly fitting suit. The skirt extended below her knees and walking was only possible because of the short slit up the back, and only then in short, quick steps. The fitted jacket was trimmed with black velvet at collar, wrists, and pockets and showed off her slim figure to perfection.

Jimmy regretted not being able to paint the long oval nails, but his mother didn’t possess such a decadent thing as nail varnish. However he was able to experiment with the lipstick from the dressing table. It was a bright vibrant red and he applied it with an expertise which could only have come from the woman whose body he now occupied. Jimmy, or perhaps Angela now, picked up Mrs Samson’s hair brush and worked on her hair for a few minutes and at last presented the image of a cool, sophisticated, young county beauty. He turned and posed before the mirror, hardly able to appreciate that the reflection was really him. He practised with the voice and was amazed that his Bestwick accent had totally disappeared, replaced by the ‘posh’ accents of a wealthy, privileged society girl. If she’d be horrified at the totality of the change, his mother would at least have approved the speech pattern!

Jimmy heard the downstairs clock strike ten. His dad would be home soon and playtime was over. He’d learned a lot. Like if he held the clothing against the Medallion while he was changing he got a few memories along with the physical changes. The adult brain he was using also seemed to be more aware than he was accustomed to.

 

He crept downstairs and washed off the lipstick. He didn’t want tell tale traces on the bedclothes. Back upstairs, he undressed and replaced all the clothes in the bag and the bag where he’d found it, before slipping into bed naked. He slid the Medallion under the pillow and settled down to wait for his Dad to get home. Images of the young fair haired man slid in and out of his head. As he lay there a name sprung to mind. He was Alistair McArthur, a subaltern in Daddy’s old regiment, and her lover. That’s what she’d been arguing about with the Colonel, her father. He’d accused her of defiling her mother’s name by her wanton behaviour. Jimmy thought wanton behaviour sounded fun

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound, first of the back door opening and closing again, then of his dad filling the sink with hot water from the boiler by the range and beginning to wash the coal dust from his body. Jimmy lay there hardly daring to breathe. What if his dad took it on himself to do more than just peep round the door? Eventually he heard footsteps on the stairs. He pulled the covers well up, faced away from the door and feigned sleep. He heard the door open and sensed his Dad peering into the dark room. He remembered to continue breathing evenly, though he really wanted just to hold his breath. The relief, as the door closed again was indescribable.

Left to himself, he began exploring Angela’s memory. As she thought of Alistair, Jimmy felt a dampness between his legs and his nipples stiffened. One hand, and one finger, gently teased the little, sensitive nub near the top of his pussy. The other caressed his breasts. The feeling was wonderful. Warmth spread through his body, and only by burying his face in the pillow could he prevent the little squeals of delight being overheard in the other bedroom. If the crescendo was incredible, then there are literally no words to describe the climax. Jimmy shuddered, and shuddered again and bit the fabric of the pillow to avoid screaming as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through his body. He lay back sweating and panting in the glow. "Bloody hell" he thought " that beats fishing, any day of the week". With that he drifted off into a satisfied and restful sleep.

 

Once again he woke with sun. Making sure to use a shirt he’d worn after his haircut, he used the Medallion to restore his body. After all, three visits to the barber’s would begin to look suspicious. With just one day to go before the holidays, his plans were almost fully formed, and he could hardly wait for his overnight stay at the Williamsons.

Billy kept looking at him all day at school. "You’re looking pleased wi’ thisen" he said ungrammatically. "You look like cat that’s got cream. What’ve you got to be so bloody pleased about?"

Jimmy blushed. He hadn’t realised he’d been walking round with a silly grin on his face all day, remembering his night time pleasures. "Oh", he replied innocently "nowt, really. It’s just that I’m looking forward to holidays .... and going round your house for night. It’ll be great, won’t it?" Billy nodded, dubiously, while Jimmy thought how great it really would be, and fingered the Medallion he’d wrapped in his hankie and stuffed deep into his britches pocket.

School broke up on early on Friday afternoon, and after they’d all sat fidgeting whilst Mrs Stewart had delivered a homily about moving on in the world and how they should work hard at the secondary school, and how they should be a credit to her, Jimmy and Billy ran into the playground of Bestwick Mixed Junior for the last time, feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from their shoulders. They went round to Jimmy’s house first to pick up his suit case. Mrs Samson had it all ready in the kitchen when they arrived.

 

"Now just you remember to be polite to Mrs Williamson, and don’t eat them out of house and home. I know what you’re like. I’ve put your sugar ration in a tin, make sure you hand it over and not keep it to eat on your own. I want to see you back here by three ‘o clock on Sunday. We’re going to your Gran’s for tea and you’ll need a good wash before we go." she paused and gave him an affectionate kiss "Go on then, be a good boy and enjoy yourself".

Jimmy picked up the small, cardboard case, and ran off wondering if it was possible to be both a good boy, and to enjoy himself. On balance, he thought probably not! Especially when he thought of his plans for the holidays. Not very well thought out plans, as it turned out.

 

Jimmy had remembered to retrieve his precious Gat from its hiding place and he and Billy spent the rest of the afternoon taking pot shots at a row of tin cans sitting on the wall in the Williamsons back garden until Mrs Williamson called them in for tea. The Williamsons didn’t have to eat in the kitchen. They had a dining room with a china cabinet and a cocktail cabinet that lit up inside when you opened the door. It’s interior was lined with a padded pink plastic material, but it contained little alcoholic except a bottle of British sherry, a few small bottles of Babycham, a bottle of Johnny Walker for Mr Williamson’s evening snifter, and a half bottle of brandy - strictly for medicinal purposes. The Williamson’s were upwardly mobile, but had a longer way to go than they realised, even though Mr Williamson was a stalwart of the Conservative Club and frequently pontificated on the idleness of the working classes. He’d never actually been down the pit, of course. The two boys gobbled their tinned salmon, lettuce and Heinz salad cream, with thin slices of bread spread (and carefully scraped) with Co-op margarine, so they could attack the plate of fancy bought cakes balanced on the three tiered cake stand which formed the centre piece of the table.

 

The Williamson’s ate as a family and Jimmy found it difficult to keep his eyes from continually wandering to survey Susan Williamson’s prominent breasts, which threatened to fall out of the low, off the shoulder blouse every time she leaned forward. Her long auburn hair was held off her face by a black velvet ribbon and her scarlet tipped fingers held her knife and fork in the delicate and precise way she imagined was usual in polite company. She had inherited her father determination to rise and she was ruthlessly pursuing her objective with no thought as to who she left in her wake. A silver charm bracelet dangled on her right wrist and a black banded dainty gold watch adorned her left. Jimmy thought she was the most glamorous girl he’d ever seen off the cinema screen.

Susan, for her part thought Jimmy was a common little tyke. She couldn’t imagine why Mummy let William play with a pit man’s son. Actually Susan thought most people in Bestwick were ‘common’, including most of the other girls in the sewing room she was using as a means to snare Albert Harvey, the oldest son of George Harvey and heir to the Harvey factory.

 

Mrs Williamson looked at Susan as she sipped her tea (only the second best china, of course) "Are you seeing Albert this evening, dear?"

"Yes, Mummy, he’s picking me up at seven in the Lanchester, and we’re going to the Cavendish-Hart’s for drinks. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Don’t wait up for me". She checked her watch. "Heavens, is that the time? I must get changed. He’ll be here in half an hour". She dashed out of the room in a wave of heady perfume, that sent Jimmy into an ecstasy. He’d nearly choked on his fancy cake when she’d mentioned where she was going. His imagination ran riot.

Apart from the glamorous Susan, for Jimmy the main attraction at the Williamson’s was the imposing radiogram which dominated the front room. Unusually for most families in Bestwick, the Williamsons used their front room daily. In most houses the front room was reserved for funeral teas, or occasionally for courting by the younger members of the family, even though most of them were much smaller than the new semi-detached villa. After asking, and receiving permission to leave the table the boys rushed into the front room and tuned into the Home service for their daily diet of ‘Dick Barton, Special Agent’. After the closing music they got out the Monopoly set and played until Mrs Williamson sent them to bed. Billy was feeling very buoyed up as he’d achieved a rare win when Jimmy had allowed him to get hotels on Park Lane and Mayfair, and quickly bankrupted his pal when he landed on them in two successive rounds. Jimmy lacked his usual killer instinct for the game as he thought of Billy’s big sister and the Medallion tucked away in his pocket. For once he was glad when bedtime came and brought the time when he could initiate his plan a little closer.

 

The two boys were to share Billy’s bedroom. There was a two tier bunk bed in the room and Billy always slept in the top bunk and used the bottom as a dumping ground for his toys and discarded clothing. For Jimmy’s visit, Billy had made a token gesture and swept his junk into a corner of the room leaving the bed clear for him. They climbed into bed and talked for a while, but Billy soon realised that Jimmy was a bit distracted and gradually he dropped off to sleep. Eventually just after Jimmy heard a clock strike eleven Billy’s parents climbed the stairs and went to bed themselves. He knew Susan was still out, so as soon as everyone was asleep he could put his plan into action. What he intended was to ‘borrow’ some of Susan’s clothes so he could use the Medallion to become her whenever he got the chance, and now, with Susan out, and everyone else asleep was his chance.

 

Jimmy crept silently out of his bed, pulled on his dressing gown and tip toed across the bedroom trying to avoid the detritus spread all over the floor. Just as he reached the door, he banged his bare toe on a hard object and just managed to suppress a cry of surprise and agony. He felt round to see what he’d nearly trodden on. It was his Gat. He’d been showing Billy his rapid draw technique just before they’d gone to bed and he’d left it on the floor under his clothes. Without thinking he slipped it into his dressing gown pocket and quietly opened the bedroom door. All was quiet except for a gentle synchronised snoring from Billy’s parents room. If he were caught, he could always claim he was looking for the toilet and mistook the door to Susan’s room for the bathroom door. Once he was satisfied it was safe, he closed the door behind him and crossed the landing to Susan’s room. Once inside he drew the heavy curtains and turned on the electric light. It still seemed strange that he could get light without needing to strike a match and set it to a gas mantle.

 

He examined the room quickly and soon spotted the clothes she had been wearing at tea laid out on her bed. She’d not got round either to putting them away or into the wash. It would be too risky to ‘borrow’ them, but he was fascinated and couldn’t resist having a closer look. Just as he bent to pick up the blouse, the Medallion he’d carefully placed in his pyjama pocket slipped out, and for a moment his hand, the blouse and the Medallion were in contact! He heart missed a beat as he felt the familiar tingling and in his panic to undo the damage he managed to get the Medallion tangled up in the blouse and thus inadvertently transferred much more of Susan’s memories and personality than had happened previously. The effect was enhanced because Susan had only recently worn the blouse, and she wore it frequently because she was well aware of how it affect her male companions.

 

Jimmy watched with horror as the transformation took its course. How would he explain this? There couldn’t be two Susan Williamsons could there? As he grew his pyjamas and dressing gown grew tighter, especially around his bum and chest and he quickly took them off and threw them on the floor. Ten minutes later he was staring at a naked Susan, or at least at a close, a very close, simulation. He stared at the proud breasts, much bigger than Angela Cavendish-Hart’s, his slender waist and flat stomach, and at how his rounded hips tapered down to his curvy legs and tiny feet. He noticed that his curly pubic hairs were a dark brown even though his hair was a rich auburn colour. He was disappointed to see that his long tapered finger nails were unadorned and that his face was devoid of makeup. Then it felt as though his head would burst as memories and experiences totally alien to him thrust themselves to the forefront of his consciousness. Oh, he knew who he really was, but he was also aware of being Susan Williamson. He knew what she did at work. He knew where she kept her clothes, where she bought her clothes. He blushed when he found he also knew how she got her clothes! He remembered growing up as a girl and being irritated by his/her little brother. It was just so confusing.

 

Well, there was nothing to be gained by standing around naked, at least not right now. He giggled, just like a girl, he giggled! Using the limited experience he’d gained from being Angela, he let Susan take over and quickly dressed himself in the outfit she had been wearing at tea. Soon he was standing before the mirror tightening the wide black belt emphasising his small waist and twirling round for the pleasure of seeing the widely flared red skirt swing out revealing the frothy petticoats beneath and the tantalising tops of his nylons supported by the suspender belt. He quickly applied a little makeup, but decided to leave his nails for the time being. Now he really did look like the gangster’s moll of his imagination. There was enough of Jimmy there for him to retrieve his Gat from his dressing gown pocket and began posing in front of the mirror. He found an opened packet of Craven A on the dressing table and a lighter set on the back of an ornamental elephant. He put one between his lips and lit it whilst watching himself in the mirror. He coughed a little at first, but soon got the hang of it and posed with his gun, with the cigarette hanging from his painted lips. He looked just like Lauren Bacall. He just needed Philip Marlowe in the form of Humphrey Bogart to come up behind him and kiss the back of his neck, and............

 

"Susan, what on earth are you doing? It’s past one. I didn’t hear you come in". Jimmy nearly jumped out of his, well Susan’s, skin. Mrs Williamson was standing in the doorway, her hair a riot of frightful curlers, and wearing a flowery dressing gown. He let Susan take over.

 

"Mummy! You startled me. I didn’t hear you either". He looked at the pistol in his hand, and smiled nervously. "Err, I found Jimmy Samson’s air pistol on the landing table and couldn’t resist having a look at it. Do you think I look more like Lauren Bacall, or Rita Heyworth? I’m trying to make up my mind".

 

"I’m sure I don’t know, dear". replied her mother. "Now don’t be too long before you go to bed, it is very late and I’ve got to get up early to send the men off fishing". She walked across the room and gave Jimmy a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight dear", and she closed the door behind her. Jimmy sat on the bed finishing the cigarette until a whooshing noise meant she’d finished in the bathroom and then he relaxed.

He was still bereft of ideas as to how he was to get out of his fix. The real Susan would be home well before he could use the Medallion to get back to being Jimmy. He sat for a long time in the dark thinking and then he heard a car draw up outside. A few minutes later, the car drove away and there was the sound of a key in the front door. Susan was home. He still didn’t know what to do, when the door opened and the light came on.

"Who are you, what are you doing in my room?". Susan gasped in a slightly slurred voice as she swayed ever so slightly on her high heels. Jimmy turned round trying to think of something to say when, with a little cry, Susan fainted and collapsed gracefully to the floor.

 

Jimmy tried to think what you were supposed to do to people who fainted and couldn’t. So he went over and tried to make her comfortable on the floor by propping her head on his dressing gown. Her clothes were pretty loose already so he couldn’t do anything about that. Then he noticed that her clothes were getting looser still and her hair was gradually darkening and also seemed to be getting shorter. Jimmy watched fascinated as Susan gradually changed into a simulacrum of himself. This could be a solution to his problem. They could simply swap places for a day then swap back and all would be OK. Then the body stirred and the eyes flickered open and stared round the room, before falling on Jimmy’s face.

 

Susan gave a start and a frightened whimper. "What’s happened to me?" she put her hand to her mouth. "What’s happened to my voice? I can’t talk proper. I sound like a pit lad. What are you, the devil?" A blank expression came over her face, and Jimmy knew what was happening. His memories and experiences were imprinting on her mind. Now she was aware of who she was. "I ... I’m Jimmy Samson. I’m going fishing with Billy Williamson and his dad tomorrow morning. My dad’s a deputy down at Bestwick Main Colliery......but I’m not. I’m Susan Williamson I live here with my parents. This is my room. I’ve been out with Albert Harvey this evening and we’re going out again tomorrow evening. This is so confusing, please tell me what’s happened." She began to sob quietly to herself. She certainly looked odd. Her makeup was dispersed in odd patches on what looked like Jimmy’s face and her nail varnish was squashed up into the cuticles of Jimmy’s stubby finger nails. Her elegant clothes were in disarray around her smaller body and her earrings were on the floor where they’d fallen from her unpierced ear lobes.

 

Jimmy lifted her onto a bedroom chair and sat opposite her on the bed. He picked up the Medallion from the floor, amongst his clothes where it had wrought its magic on Susan as she lay there in a faint. He handed her a handkerchief, she dried her eyes and looked at him with a bewildered expression. "Please, help me", she said and looked straight at him.

 

"I’ll try to explain, but I’m not too sure myself" he replied. He explained how he’d found the Medallion and had accidentally been transformed into Bethany Evans, but left out his second deliberate experiment with Angela Cavendish-Hart’s clothes. He told her he’d accidentally wandered into her room in search of the bathroom and had bumped into her clothes and become transformed unintentionally again. He left out any account of his fantasies. He told her about the way the Medallion seemed to work and that there was no way they could restore themselves that night.

By this time Susan had recovered sufficiently to be acutely aware of the problem they had. "Do you mean to tell me I have to be you for the rest of tomorrow, until we can get together and change back?" Jimmy nodded. He noticed that she was fingering his Gat with the same fascination he used to. He also noticed that he regarded it as a silly little boy’s plaything quite beneath his notice, and it shocked the Jimmy part of him that was gradually being submerged in a modified version of Susan. That is, the new Susan had her memories and could draw on her experiences, but her personality, whilst still female, was a mixture of the old Susan and Jimmy’s fantasies. It felt very strange, but he was getting more and more comfortable with it as time passed.

 

Susan seemed to come to a sudden decision, "Well I suppose I’d better get into your clothes and go back to bed". Jimmy looked at her narrowly. She seemed to be accepting the change more easily the longer she was in his body, and then he realised that she’d been lying on the Medallion and his clothes for the whole transformation. That meant she must have absorbed an awful lot of his memories. he wondered if that included his earlier transformations. He searched his version of Susan and realised that the memories weren’t actually that detailed, but were more impressions and attitudes, so he thought he was probably safe. Using his Susan skills he quickly removed the makeup and remains of nail varnish from the real Susan’s new body and helped her into what had been his pyjamas and dressing gown.

 

Susan picked up the Medallion and pushed it into the pocket of her dressing gown. "I’m looking after this. I don’t want anything to happen to it until I’m me again." she said emphatically. "...and don’t forget, we have to call each other by our new names until we change back".

Jimmy was about to object, but thought better of it. She was hardly likely to run off with it. She was as keen to change back as he was. Well he thought he was, but he was gradually growing accustomed to this body. He hadn’t felt self-conscious about his almost exposed breasts for some time. Without another word, Susan walked out the door carrying her Gat and the Medallion, leaving Jimmy to settle into her old room.

 

Jimmy sat down at the dressing table and removed his make up, enjoying for the first time the opportunity to be openly female for the first time in the whole adventure. Oddly enough the desire to be a gangster’s moll seemed to have receded somewhat. What seemed to interest him now was his date with Albert Harvey tomorrow night. That disturbed the Jimmy part of him just a little. He removed the clothes again, and put on the flimsy nylon night dress he knew he’d find tucked into a teddy bear with a zip in his tummy. "Good night, Oliver", he said, kissed the bear on the nose and put out the light. It wasn’t until he was snuggling down under the covers that he realised what he’d just done. "Now where did that come from" he thought, but before he could arrive at a solution he was asleep.

 

Jimmy gradually came to the following morning, but as soon as he turned onto his stomach for another 5 minutes snooze the feeling on his chest quickly brought him fully awake. The events of the night before seemed unreal in the light of day, but were soon confirmed when he looked at his slender feminine arms and hands. He could hardly wait to try painting his nails like the stars he remembered seeing both at the Saturday afternoon kids matinee and in the evening as Susan on the double back row seats with some boy or other. He looked at the clock. It was after ten. He’d never stayed in bed so late before, but he knew this was normal for Susan after a hectic evening. Using her memories he got out of bed and putting on a filmy negligee went into the bathroom. He remembered to put the seat down before sitting to relieve himself. He turned to the bath and started to run the water. How easy it was! At home they had to get the zinc bath in from the yard and set it by the fire before filling with a ladle from the boiler. He luxuriated in the hot water until his mother disturbed him by banging on the door.

"Are you going to be in there all morning, Susan?" she called through the locked door. "I want you to go down the town for me and the shops’ll be shut if you mess about much longer".

"All right Mummy, I’ll be down soon". and Jimmy climbed out of the bath. he admired himself in the mirror as he patted himself dry. Turning his head this way and that to watch his hair swing from one side of his slender neck to the other. He giggled, this was fun. He wondered how Susan was coping with the fishing trip.

 

Back in the bedroom he pondered on what to do next. Ah, his nails. He let Susan take control again and selected a vivid red polish from the selection on his dressing table and applied two coats to both his finger and toe nails. While they were drying he had his first Craven A of the day, and read a copy of Woman magazine he found on the bedside cabinet. He was soon absorbed in an article describing the latest Christian Dior Autumn collection. It seemed that skirts were to remain long despite the shortages. A further call from downstairs pleading for him to hurry, stirred him into activity as he chose his dress for the day. His Susan side selected a matching bra and knicker set in red, Harvey’s, of course, and a garter belt in the same colour. She selected a revealing cream blouse and a pair of dark slacks with a tight, high waist, but wide long legs, which needed to be worn with high heeled strappy sandals. She carefully applied makeup and dabbed perfume at her neck and wrists. Her silver charm bracelet, gold watch and a pair of hoop earring completed her preparations for the day.

 

Meanwhile Billy, his dad, and as he thought, Jimmy, were busy drowning worms down at the cut. They’d given up trying for roach with bread bait and were going after the easier to catch perch using worms they’d collected in the garden early that morning. Susan was surprised at how she’d coped with picking the worms out of the moist earth and dropping them in an old jam jar. She would have been horrified at the thought of picking up a slimy worm in her bare fingers when she was in her original body. She was wearing Jimmy’s shiny black wellingtons with the tops turned down so they didn’t make her bare calves sore, and had carefully placed the precious Medallion in her jacket pocket. She was quite enjoying the day out, considering the strange circumstances.

Susan knew that the first chance she and Jimmy would have to reverse the change would be later that night. That meant that she would have to rely on Jimmy to cope with her important date. She’d just about persuaded Albert to promote her from the sewing room to be his secretary where she could use the shorthand and typing she’d been studying at evening class for precisely that purpose. Albert was taking her, or rather Jimmy now, to the Lion Hotel in Massingham that evening for a candle lit, romantic meal. She was sure that, like the perch she had just popped into her keep net, Albert was hooked. She didn’t want Jimmy to mess anything up. She’d have to find an opportunity to speak to him before the all important date.

 

When the fishing party returned to the Williamsons at five o’ clock, Billy’s mam was just putting finishing touches to the tea table and Jimmy was upstairs preparing for his evening out as Susan. Making the excuse to use the toilet, the real Susan went upstairs and burst into her old room without knocking. She found what looked like her old body sitting at her dressing table engaged in some serious make up application. Jimmy looked round. "What do you want, Jimmy? I’d appreciate it if knocked before coming into my room, I could have been undressed. Don’t disturb me now I’m trying to get my eyelashes on straight".

Sussan was taken aback, and oddly felt slightly embarrassed to be watching an apparently glamorous young women partly dressed and applying her makeup. "Wait a minute, what do you mean, your room? It’s my room, and you know it".

 

Jimmy was enjoying this "Not from where I’m sitting it isn’t, and I’m sure Mummy wouldn’t think so either. So buzz off you scruffy little tyke and let me finish getting dressed". He could contain himself no longer and burst out giggling. "OK, Susan, what do you really want. We haven’t got long, Albert’s due in twenty minutes".

 

Susan was still recovering from the strange feelings she’d had when she first came into the room. "Well, I just wanted to stress how important tonight is for me. This is my big chance to get away from all those common factory girls and get into the office. I don’t want you spoiling it for me. You will be careful won’t you? I don’t want to get a bad reputation".

"According to my mother, you, or rather I’ve already got a reputation. I don’t see how anything I do will change that". answered Jimmy.

A voice called from downstairs. "Jimmy, your tea’s on the table".

Susan turned to the door. "I have to go now. Please be careful. I’ll see you in here when you get back tonight when everybody’s in bed and we can change back. Cheerio".

 

Jimmy completed his dressing and did a final check in the full length mirror. His dress was a flowery summer one with thin straps over his shoulders. It had a tight bodice with a low neckline to show off his full breasts and a full skirt in the New Look length down to his calves. A short bolero jacket with 3/4 sleeves in a matching fabric allowed some adjustment for temperature. His nylons were held up by the suspenders attached to a tight girdle which emphasised his already small waist. His shoes were white and had a 5" heel which not only made his legs look even more sensational, but gave his hips a sexy swaying motion when he walked. His long nails were painted the same red as his lipstick and his artificial eyelashes gave his eyes that ‘come to bed’ look. His long hair was dressed in a fashionable upsweep which emphasised the his long pendant earrings. There was no doubt about it. He was dressed to kill. Watch out Albert Harvey, here comes Mama!!

Jimmy was just checking that his seams were straight when he heard Albert’s Lanchester purr to the front gate. He picked up his hand bag, checked he had his lipstick and cigarettes and ran down the stairs just as his mother let Albert in. Jimmy’s escort smiled broadly. "Darling you look wonderful. Shall we go?"

 

Jimmy smiled at his date, and gave Susan’s, his now, mother a kiss. "Bye, Mummy, don’t wait up". He noticed Susan, in his body at the table. She was staring hard and clearly wishing she was back in her old shape and going out with Albert herself.

His escort opened the door of the handsome motor car for Jimmy to slide in. He was as excited about the drive as he was about his date with the good looking young man. It was the first time he’d ever been in a car, let alone one with such a pedigree as a Lanchester. As they drove along the quiet roads, Jimmy took the opportunity to study his companion. As Jimmy, he’d never met Albert Harvey. He had Susan’s memories to go on, but they weren’t very specific. Albert was tall, about 6 feet as far as Jimmy could tell from his position in the passenger seat, with dark, Brylcreamed hair in the fashion of the day. His sensitive hands seemed to caress the wheel as he fed the car into the bends on the winding road. Jimmy was surprised to find himself wondering what those sensitive hands could do to his breasts, or even better, his pussy. From his experience as Angela, he was only too aware of what the dampness between his legs meant.

Eventually, they were passing through the arch of the old coaching inn and parking in the cobbled yard. Albert opened the door and took Jimmy’s elbow as they crossed into the oak panelled and beamed dining room. The maitre de showed them to a small private alcove, all but invisible to the rest of the room and handed then both a menu and lit the candles. Even on such a warm sunny summer evening, the low dark ceiling and tiny windows set in thick walls made for a dark, intimate, atmosphere, perfect for seduction. Albert was obviously a favoured guest at the Lion Hotel, and the staff knew exactly what service he demanded and ensured he got it.

Jimmy almost gasped when he saw the menu. He’d never even imagined such dishes before. Where did they get the meat to be able to serve such a range? He knew that his Mam had enormous difficulties putting meat on the table everyday with the meagre official ration. He noticed that his menu had no price listings. He was sure that this was going to be a pretty expensive meal for Albert. What exactly did he expect in return?

Albert looked across the table at him and smiled. "Shall I order, darling?" he said.

Jimmy let Susan take over. She looked up through her dark eyelashes with a seductive curve to her painted lips. "Please do". she murmured, and reached across the table to stroke the back of Albert’s hand with one long, scarlet nail. The colouring of Albert’s face wasn’t due to embarrassment.

At a glance from Albert the hovering waiter rushed over, his note book and pencil poised. "Yes, sir, are you ready to order?"

Without bothering to reply directly, Albert simply began ordering. "We’ll both have the filet, well done. A selection of fresh vegetables and no fried potatoes." He looked at ‘Susan’. "They’re so vulgar, don’t you think?" Without waiting for a reply he continued talking to the waiter. "We’ll have the Brown Windsor soup, with fresh white rolls to start".

The waiter finished scribbling on his pad. "Yes sir, certainly sir. Now, would you like something to drink, sir?". He was obviously working hard for the large tip he was sure Albert would furnish.

Albert glanced at the wine list. "Do you still have any of the ‘38 Nuits St George grand cru?". When the waiter nodded, he continued "Two bottles then, if you please, and we’ll have two dry sherries while we wait".

 

The sumptuous meal passed without incident. Unless the surreptitious foot fondling that took place throughout counted as an incident. Or the suggestive glances ‘Susan’ made from beneath her lashes counted as incidents. As the wine bottles emptied both ‘Susan’ and Albert became more relaxed and mellow. Eventually they reached the coffee and liqueur stage, and as they sipped their Cointreaus, ‘Susan’ began fishing for information about her future at Harvey’s.

 

"You know how I hate working in that awful sewing room. You’ve no idea how crude some of those women can be". She said.

Albert knew only too well how crude the women were and how they treated any young lad who got into their hands. He remembered when he’d first ventured into the large dusty room at the age of fifteen when, at his father’s insistence, he was learning about the factory from the bottom up. Even though they knew he was the bosses son they pulled off his trousers and applied a generous quantity of black boot polish round his balls. They then dressed him in an enormous pair of pink satin bloomers before pushing him out into the yard, much to the amusement of the rest of the staff. Women are worse than men when they get together! Albert certainly sympathised with Susan’s position.

"Well, Susan, I could perhaps arrange a transfer, but I’d need to do it through the official channels. It could be most difficult if anyone thought I was applying favouritism, you know".

‘Susan’ gently stroked the back of his hand again, and allowed the tip of her pink tongue to lick her lips very slowly. "Isn’t there anything, anything at all, I could do to persuade you?" Jimmy couldn’t believe what he was saying, and how he was feeling, as Susan’s personality gradually took over. He still knew who he was, and was still in control, but he was enjoying being Susan in ways he’d never imagined before. He wondered if his Mam had ever felt like this when she was with his Dad, but he thought probably not.

Albert, responded by placing his other hand over her tiny one and looking into her eyes. "Well, I think it would be better if we continued this conversation in private, don’t you? Tell you what, I’ve booked a room here so we can discuss your future with Harvey’s without being disturbed. How about it?"

Twenty minutes later they were sitting together on a sofa in a private room with a bottle of champagne cooling in an ice bucket at their side. Albert started the discussion by gently kissing ‘Susan’ on the lips. The kiss gradually became more passionate as their tongues fenced in a sexual dance. Jimmy slid his slim fingers into the opening in Albert’s shirt and teased his nipples.

Albert squirmed to the touch. "Oh Susan, you are so very beautiful. I don’t think I could survive without our little dinners.". and he reached behind her back and expertly released the zip and opened the back of the dress. There were advantages in being the manufacturer of women’s clothing - there was accurate knowledge of how it all fastened together. ‘Susan’ gasped as the sensitive hands that had previously controlled the powerful car so efficiently, began to control her passion by caressing her breasts so wonderfully.

It seemed like no time at all before ‘Susan’s expensive dress was draped on the back of the sofa covered by Albert’s Saville Row suit in a simulation of the embrace their respective owners were enjoying on the bed. If Jimmy had thought his time as Angela had been exciting, it was as nothing compared with the feelings he experienced as Albert teased his clit to its tiny erection. He gave little delighted squeals, no longer worried about waking his father and thrust his hips into the teasing finger. When the climax came it was earth shattering in its intensity and ‘Susan’ screamed in ecstasy. This certainly made up for the days fishing Jimmy had missed!

‘Susan’ just managed to retain enough presence of mind to realise that she needed to keep something back to use for further bargaining, so when Albert’s prick began to probe the entrance to her pussy, she moved away. She smiled at his evident confusion. He obviously thought he was home and dry, but she had other ideas. She pushed him back and to Jimmy’s surprise she let the tip of her tongue touch the head of Albert’s proud upstanding member. He groaned in anticipation as ‘Susan’ opened her red lips and took him in. She teased him for a while and then peered up at him before pulling away.

Between little kisses, she spoke to him. "Albert?" kiss, kiss "When would I be able to start in the office?" kiss, kiss, kiss "Just think what fun we could have" kiss, kiss "if we could be together more often" kiss, kiss "What do you think, darling?"

Albert was at the point when he would agree to anything. "Oh, please don’t stop. This is absolutely fantastic." He looked down at the riot of loosened red gold hair spread over his thighs, the long scarlet nails scratching his balls and the lovely pouty lips gently caressing the tip of his prick "Oh, yes, yes. You must start on Monday, it’ll be wonderful"

 

"Promise?" said ‘Susan’ as she teased him again.

"Oh, I promise, I promise. Please don’t stop". He cried, and with that, she allowed him deep into her mouth, and in a moment she was taking in his ejaculate until ran from the corners of her lovely mouth.

She smiled, with satisfaction. Success!

The real Susan was agitated when Jimmy quietly opened the door to his bedroom in the early hours of Sunday morning. "Where have you been? The car pulled up nearly an hour ago."

Jimmy smiled dreamily. "Albert just couldn’t leave me alone. It’ll be fantastic when we’re working in the same office, well I mean when you’re working in his office. I suppose we’d better change back, where’s the Medallion?" Then he saw the expression on his old face. "What’s the matter, Susan?"

 

"It’s gone. I’ve lost it. We’ve been searching for it all evening. I told Billy I’d lost my penknife down at the cut and we’ve been looking for hours. Well, I’ve been looking, Billy was looking for a penknife. The trouble is we fished both banks between the locks. It could anywhere along half a mile of canal bank, or even in the water".

 

"Does that mean we’re stuck as we are". gasped Jimmy. He was contemplating living the rest of his life as Susan. On the record of the last day he could think of worse fates.

"Yes, at least, unless I can find the medallion. I think I’m going to be spending at lot of time fishing". Replied Susan. "I think I’ve got enough of your memories to cope, and I’ve got the Summer holidays to get used to the idea of going back to school. I’m getting to be quite a good shot with your, or rather my air pistol. It’s strange though, I seem to be obsessed with American gangsters and their molls, especially the molls".

 

She looked at Jimmy, now with his long golden red hair hanging loose to his shoulders, his scarlet tipped fingers delicately holding a cigarette to his full, red lips, and his heavily lidded eyes half closed against the drifting smoke. "You know, you rather remind of Lauren Bacall in the ‘Big Sleep’. It’s strange fancying myself". She suddenly became thoughtful, and her expression became one of suspicion. "Just what were you doing in this room, before all this happened ?".

Jimmy smiled and shooed her to the door "Never you mind, young Jimmy. Now don’t you think you should get out of my room and get back to your own? It’s not polite for small boys to be pestering their friend’s older sister".

The new Jimmy looked confused for a moment, and then with a sigh pulled open the door and crossed the landing to his bunk in his best pal’s bed room.

 

Susan sat for a moment, relishing her cigarette and surveying her reflection in the dressing table mirror. "Well, it doesn’t look as though I’ll end up working down the pit after all. Mam will be pleased, especially as I’ve got an office job as well". She remembered with relish how she’d been able to play with Albert Harvey. "And one with excellent prospects".

With a smile, Susan Williamson stubbed out her last Craven A of the day and began to prepare herself for bed.

 

The End

 

© 2001 Geoff1940

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