A Chance Meeting                        by Rachel Ann Cooper                ©1997

 

It was a lazy Monday. I worked Tuesday through Saturday, at least for the moment, and usually hung out at the mall, having few friends outside of work and I wouldn’t exactly call them ‘friends.’ I mean, there was not one among them that would stop a bullet meant for me. I suppose what I really had was an accumulation of casual acquaintances.

As I had been cruising the various store fronts I stopped, as usual, at Victoria’s Secret to admire their display just wishing I had the guts to go in and even pretend to be shopping for my girl friend. The lingerie shops were always my favorites. I mean, a guy likes to see his girl in sexy lingerie, right?

Suddenly I got hungry and went down to the food court. Taking a table out in the middle away from most of the people, I sat there, slowly sipping my diet Pepsi and thoughtfully taking tiny bites of my taco. Shirley, one of my co-workers that I frequently go to lunch with says I eat like a girl. What’s with THAT? Says I sit like one too. The nerve. Still, we like each other as friends and it’s not like I have a lot of them. So, if she wants to insult me, let her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a very attractive green eyed redhead stood across the table from me and she asked if she could share my table. I was really deep in thought, but not wanting to be rude, said, "of course." It only occurred to me much later that she could have chosen from a dozen other tables where there was no one seated.

She sat and it was then I noticed that while she was dressed rather casually in cranberry colored slacks and a white sweater, she had a striking emerald pendant in an antique setting about her neck. We struck up the usual chit chat conversation but all the while, I could not take my eyes off her pendant.

No, it was not because it was nestled between two delectable mounds. Mind you, I enjoy seeing a ripe bosom on a girl, but that was not my focus at the moment.

She noticed my admiration and asked if I knew much about emeralds. I said, "no, but I’ve always thought they were beautiful and would like to know more about them."

She offered to let me take a closer look and took it from around her neck. She asked me what my name was and I told her, "Jerry Connors." She said hers was Marlena.

She didn’t actually hand me the pendant, but held it loosely in her hand, allowing it to swing a little back and forth and twirl, reflecting and catching the light in every facet. I couldn’t take my eyes off it and she began to explain about the characteristics of emeralds.

And then, I could hear her voice and the background noise of the mall just faded away. There was only her voice, just her sweet voice explaining about emeralds. That was the last thing I remembered until I met her back there three hours later. Maybe I should clarify that. It was the last thing that JERRY remembered.

When I left the court running on auto pilot, my first stop was to the Fantastic Sams, where Jessica said that Jean would be ready for me in a few minutes and to have a seat. I sat down between a blond housewife type and an attractive brunette who looked like she could easily sell her charms for cash.

Jean came and collected me, gave me a wash, cut, set and a body perm with long, side swept bangs. She said Marlena had told her what I wanted so I just let her do her thing. I have no idea why that seemed alright to me. She washed my long locks, towel dried them, cut and rolled my hair onto medium curlers with a strong setting gel. I guess I was under the dryer for about half an hour idly reading Cosmo. You can learn a lot about women’s stuff from reading their magazines. I suppose you can learn a lot about them by being treated like one as well. I hadn’t realized how much.

Her ‘thing’ included piercing both my ears, pop, pop and putting in CZ studs and I told her I wanted the green ones of course as emeralds were on my mind at the moment.

She combed me out into a soft wave with some back combing for volume and as usual, handed me a mirror so I could approve, which I did. I knew I had thick hair, but this looked like twice as much as before and was nice with the bangs swept to the left. She put the part on the right and it was quite pretty. Strange, but I didn’t remember having bangs before. How odd! It was terribly feminine but I loved it. I went up front and paid.

Jessica said, "thank you Gerri, see you again." and I left for my next stop.* Gerri?* I didn’t remember telling her my name at all. Nobody called me Gerri. I noticed how it was spelled in her appointment book...Gerri, like a nickname for Geraldine. A natural mistake, I guess. Oh well, with a pretty do like this, why would she NOT think that?

I found myself once again at Victoria’s’ secret only this time my feet were actually going in the store, something I had always wanted but had been too chicken to do. However, this time I strolled in like any other shopper completely unabashed. It was as though, all of a sudden, my new hairdo gave my feet courage and I was running on autopilot. Actually, I was. As the sales girl approached and asked me how she could help me, I told her I would like to see a bustier in a size 34B with garters if possible.

They did have them with detachable garters. She said they were over in the corner and showed me and I chose a rose colored one that rather matched the cable knit sweater I was wearing.

But then, she said," would you like to try it on miss?" And I replied, with a flip of my hair, "yes, of course." After all, you don’t buy clothing without trying it on. What girl in her right mind would buy a foundation garment without trying it ON? Now, where did the nerve for that come from? And why had she called me "miss?" And why was I trying on such a garment? I’m a guy, aren’t I? Well, I WAS! Must be the hair and the earrings, that’s it. Or maybe it was my voice. I sounded different to myself, kind of—lyrical.

I found it had push up pads in it and it squeezed my waist down a couple inches and made me look like I had a real bosom and accentuated my hips and tush, but I managed to put it on and then I pulled my sweater down over it and walked out of the try on booth to admire myself in one of the big mirrors.

"You’ll be wearing it then miss," the girl asked?

"Yes, I like it" I heard myself say in what I now recognized as feminine intonations and ignoring the ‘miss.’ Then I went over to the silk naughty nighties and picked out one in emerald green of course, with lace at the bodice and spaghetti straps. It was very slinky. I got excited just passing the cloth through my fingers. It felt like quick silver running over my hands as I drew it from one to the other, feeling of the wonderful texture.

I chose a medium size just knowing somehow that it would fit deliciously. On the rack right beside them were some regular cut spandex panties. I picked three pairs and two garter belts. The sales girl asked if I needed any stockings and I said, "show me what you have" and I also chose three packages. They were on sale at 3 for $10 and had lovely lace tops about three inches deep. Very sexy. I LOVE sexy lingerie!

I then went back into the booth and proceeded to put on a pair of the stockings, gartering them to the bustier and then replaced my briefs with a pair of the panties which pulled up very smoothly. I looked surprisingly feminine in my crotch, a fact that did not seem to bother me or cause me any concern at all. I tossed the briefs into the bag for later disposal as I felt I was surely never going to wear such trashy cotton things again.

I was wearing a pair of rather flimsy light tennis shoes and no socks, like deck shoes, the kind some girls wear. But now I was wearing hose with them. After retying them I paid and left. Another "thank you miss." My! It felt so grand to be able to go in there and just buy whatever I wanted and to try it ON.

Shopping always made me feel better. Don’t ask me why. My next stop was Merle Norman. It was like I had a special and specific list I had to follow. Had I been an android on a mission, my purpose could not have been more clear. I must go to Merle Norman. I was again mistaken for a GIRL. When I went in, I just asked to see some colognes.

The salesgirl was very persuasive and I ended up accepting a complete make over, was handed the mirror and almost fell off the stool. I was expecting her to perhaps trim my eyebrows and shade out a blemish or two but instead I was almost...gorgeous! I must have looked like a fool staring at myself that way. I could not believe the change and how good it made me feel. My skin was flawless and accentuated with all the right colors including that creamy lipstick. That girl knew her makeup and I looked GOOD and I do mean FOXY.

Next, she gave me a manicure, layering two coats of quick dry mocha enamel on my now (as before) slightly long, now round and slightly pointed nails. I mean, I still had a grip on the idea that I was really a male, maybe, somewhere, but I was no longer any part of a MAN and fading fast, VERY fast, and SHE didn’t have a clue and the girl she was working her magic on never felt more elated in her life.

The GIRL? I was thinking of myself in the feminine gender and third person. What was wrong with me? But I was positively radiant. I absolutely GLOWED.

I’d never seen myself with beautiful eye makeup, a peaches and cream complexion , blusher, lipstick and pretty, polished nails. With the hair and earrings, the effect was totally girl. I was stunned and a shiver ran all through me when I saw myself . And just then, I felt something snap.

It wasn’t as though I’d just heard a bone pop but more like a subtle shift into second gear. You know, like when your automatic transmission shifts up one notch? Just going into Victoria’s and putting on the bustier and stockings and panties hadn’t done it even after the decidedly feminine cut, perm and earrings.

But seeing that face along with the hair and figure made it all come together. It was as though I’d tripped a mouse trap. It was a trigger that set me off. It could not have been more real if I had stepped on a landmine and suddenly armed it, realizing my next step would be my last.

I was so excited, I couldn’t even remember my name. Geraldine? Gerri? Yes, that was it. That was the name I gave her for the invoice, Gerri Connors. Geraldine Connors. Sure! That’s who I am. I paid the girl, thanked her for her excellent work, and went on to my next stop carrying my bag of cosmetics, about $80.00 worth, feeling they were worth every penny.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew my next stop was an appointment to keep with a girl named Marlena and I was almost late so I rushed back to the food court. I trotted, actually, arms held high and tush swaying as I took what were decidedly girlish little strides. There she was.

I sat down with her carefully placing my package on the table and seating myself, both feet and knees together like always and crossed my legs at the knee and folded my hands in my lap, smiling at her.

She was lavish in her compliments on what a little shopping could do for a girl’s spirit. That pronoun just went right by me like it belonged there all my life. Her eyes danced quickly over my face, hair, pierced ears and sweater and complimented me on the hair cut and my new emerald studs, mentioning the makeup in glowing terms, which I thought was the best part. I just loved the creamy taste and feel of the lipstick. She complimented me on the use of my hands. That seemed a peculiar compliment for one girl to give another, but I was euphoric.

Then she suggested we go down to Dillard’s and look at a few things. As we were walking, she whispered something in my ear. I don’t even remember what she said. I was eager to be keeping company with such an attractive girl and we went to Dillard’s shoe department.

I found a pair of stacked heeled Mary Janes with in a cream color that looked really cute with the slacks I had on as well as a pair of black flats and a sexy pair of red spiked stripy styled sandals (they had about a 3 ½ inch heel) and a pair of mid heeled mules to wear with my new nightie.

I couldn’t wait to see the sandals with an evening dress and remembered seeing one in a window just up the mall that would be perfect if I could afford it. Well, maybe in another payday or two. Dillard’s had evening dresses too. I decided to look while we were there.

What DID Marlena whisper to me? No matter. The sales girl asked me what size I wore, but I told her she would have to measure as I had lost some weight lately and so she did, bringing out all four pairs in size 8 and they fit perfectly. They were all leather uppers and felt comfortable immediately and I was right. Those sandals were , oh, so sexy, but I really needed to paint my toenails when I got home. I did have some polish from Merle Norman, so I filed that away as something I had to do tonight along with giving myself a clear coat of hardener for the office.

The girl asked me if I would like some knee hi’s and a purse to go with the Mary Janes but I already had my stockings on. I did buy the purse though. I put the makeup in my purse and wore the Mary Janes out of the department. They had about a 2 ½" heel but felt just fine and natural.

We stopped by the cosmetics counter and I got that clear hardener. Then Marlena and I went over to the women’s slack department and got me two more appropriate pairs of slacks that would fit me better with my now smaller waist. They were man tailored and very chic in black light wool and tan gaberdine. Again, something I could wear to the office.

Why was I thinking about wearing women’s clothing to the office? Oh, that’s right. My name is Gerri. I AM a woman. I talked Marlena into looking at evening wear for a moment. Well, darlings, I found my dream dress to go with the shoes and simply HAD to try it on. It was a little strapless number with the bodice layered in organza and it clung to every curve I owned.

The skirt was slit to just above the left knee. Marlena said I was about a 10 for that dress. I came out of that try on booth with the dress and the sandals on and looked in the mirror and thought I could now die happy. I put it on layaway and we moved on.

With that bustier on, I had a VERY feminine figure and filled out the slacks nicely too, and without any unsightly bulges, thanks to the spandex top on my pantyhose and spandex briefs. Since Marlena’s whisper, I WAS a girl and just smoothed what little I had down and back not consciously realizing what it was that I was doing. I could not understand why, but on one level, way back in my head, as before, I knew that I was male (sort of) and should be freaking out by now at all the things I had just done, but at the moment, I was the picture of calm and not a guy, at least not in my mind and certainly not to anyone who saw me.

My sex may have been male, that was still up for debate, but my gender was girl. All girl. I was just out with another girlfriend doing some shopping. Yes, I was a girl. That is what she whispered to me. Poof! With a whisper, Jerry was gone. But who was I now and would that male person try to force his way back into my now idyllic life? I certainly hoped not! Gerri?

So there I was, looking every bit like Marlena’s new girlfriend. I guess that’s exactly what I had become. The good witch had waved her magic wand and I had become a princess. I really did like her and just knew we were going to be good friends for a long time to come. She had a sweet way about her and a hypnotic personality which, I guess is an understatement.

We went back to the food court for another diet Pepsi and then she said, "alright Gerri, spelled G-E-R-R-I, it’s OK to be yourself now for a little while " and suddenly I woke up. Well, it wasn’t like I really woke up like from sleep, more of a becoming aware suddenly of my new circumstances. I didn’t remember coming back to the food court. I DID remember my name. It was Gerri, short for Geraldine.

And then it all came rushing at me, what I had DONE, where I had BEEN, what I LOOKED like, the make-over and the nails, the whisper and the stunning evening dress I had just bought to wear with my new sexy sandals and I blushed right through my makeup. I just looked her in those deep green eyes for a minute. I got lost in them and began to tear up a little. I was tongue tied. Speechless! Overwhelmed with sheer panic and then sheer joy, all the emotions rolling across my face.

And just as suddenly, a warm glow came over me and I said, "thank you SO MUCH Marlena" as I reached out my hand with the perfectly polished nails and tenderly placed it over her own. "It’s been a wonderful afternoon and I really appreciate what you’ve taught me about emeralds and about being myself ."

Even the voice that I heard was that of a girl. I couldn’t pass for a ‘Jerry’ if my life depended on it and really didn’t care. "So now you know what you’ve been doing, right?" "Yes." "And who the world thinks you are now?" "Yes. I’m finally the real me!"

"And are you all right, I mean with what has happened?" "You know I am," I said emphatically. "Well, Gerri, I think you had better think of a more appropriate name for me to call you right now before you go home because I don’t want to see Jerry with a J any more and Gerri with a G sounds just too much the same."

"How about Vanessa?", I said without hesitation. "I love it Vanessa, and Vanessa you shall be" and with that, I could not remember my boy name or Gerri at all. I was Vanessa Connors.

"Here is my phone number", she said. " Call me and maybe we can take in a movie next week."

I said I would and I went home singing along with the radio in my best alto. Later that night, after my soak in bath oil and extensive shaving that I felt compelled to do, I laundered my new panties and stockings I’d worn, did my nails over in clear and put mocha on my toenails, put on a fresh pair of hose and got dressed again only this time with the new slacks and the red spiked stripy sandals and a silk shirt that looked somewhat feminine.

I was standing there, marveling at myself in the full length mirror and just then there was a knock at the door. I should have been scared out of my wits, but I just calmly went to answer it. I suspect Marlena had something to do with this, too. I was still Vanessa after all in charge of my mind and body. It didn’t matter who was at the door. I was sure of who I was and the image I presented.

It was Shirley, of all people. It was not the first time she had been over. We were friends, after all. She said, " Vanessa, you look stunning" and asked to come in.

Of course I said "yes." I offered her some tea and we talked and talked. I should have been embarrassed by my appearance but was not in the least. Noticing the lipstick marks on my cup, I got out my new lipstick and freshened it up a little. I asked her if she knew Marlena. Before she had a chance to answer, the light dawned like a clap of thunder. Shirley knew my name was Vanessa. HOW?

She admitted that she had put Marlena up to the whole thing, having sensed something in my eyes or my manner, I don’t know what. And, being the little imp I knew her as at work, I was not surprised.

She said, "remember, I TOLD you that you eat and sit like a girl." "That’s what made me suspicious of you in the first place. You conduct yourself JUST like a girl when you are at the table, mannerisms, chewing, drinking, everything, and it made me wonder if there really was a girl underneath that boyish exterior. I thought you would make a lovely girl. In fact, you do."

"I had never realized that a part of my feminine side had become second nature or so obvious to anyone else," I told her. I admitted to Shirley that I had been fascinated with women’s EVERYTHING since I was a teen ager but never had the nerve to do anything about it. I was jealous when my girlfriend started her periods and her bosom began to grow.

I thanked Shirley for interfering. Then she asked if I would mind taking off the slacks and blouse. It was just like I was with Marlena. I was non plussed and did as she asked, modeling my new undies and my sexy new sandals.

She was a little more gracious than I deserved I thought, but I accepted her approval. She never even mentioned the tiny bulge in my panties. She asked me if I had bought any skirts, blouses or dresses and I said no. "Well, then, let’s do a little shopping this Saturday after you get off work. You’ve just GOT to have some pretty skirts and dresses if you’re going to be even a part-time girl Vanessa." Well, what could I say since I just LOVE shopping and I agreed to the trip, of course, since it was a dream come true. At least, that’s why I THOUGHT I said yes.

Shirley showed up Saturday with Marlena in tow. Marlena, it seems, was a licensed psychiatrist, an old friend of Shirley’s from school. She had a little kit with her and told me to drop my panties and bend over. I thought this a rather unusual request but couldn’t seem to resist anything Marlena wanted me to do.

She popped two hypos into my rump and told me that she’d be doing that every week for some time to come. We three girls had quite a time. Marlena had programmed me to absorb ALL of what I learned about makeup and hair and clothes, so I was to find out, which was all we talked about the whole time we were out anyway, and my fem self was automatically triggered if a girl said the words "a little shopping" to me as an invitation. How sneaky!

Those were the words Shirley had used. I just had to know so I asked. "They think I’m gay down at work, don’t they?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Well, not that I know of up to this point, and I’ve never thought of being with a man as a man, if that’s what you mean," I said, and thanked them for their honesty.

"Did you ever fantasize about being a GIRL with a man?" "I never thought it was possible until now, so the idea never entered my mind." I could see them filing that away. We had dinner a nearby restaurant and then went home. A young man held the restaurant door open for me. How nice, I thought, to be treated like a lady.

I wondered what Shirley and Marlena have in store for me next? I felt like I was in Svengali’s power with no will of my own but I just LOVED what was happening and since I could not be held responsible, I could just sit back and enjoy the ride. They both said that Vanessa ‘passes’ very well and would likely never be found out unless I got arrested or went too far with a man. A MAN? I think NOT! Well, that’s what I say NOW.

I see things have a way of taking a turn, so I had better just reserve my opinions about men for later. Marlena has a rather powerful influence on me and I was a little afraid she could pretty much send me in any direction she wanted that fit in with my girlish charms.

Despite this little fear, I trusted that she wouldn’t make me do anything contrary to my nature, whatever that really was. The trouble was, I’d never been with a GIRL either as a male. I was a virgin, more’s the pity.

That night I slid into my slinky new emerald nighty and drifted off into a wonderful dream, a dream I had not let myself have in a long, long time, a dream that started at age 12 with me growing up.. .differently... all right ...a GIRL!

There, I’ve finally said it even if only in a dream. Alright, now I knew what my nature really was. I wanted a lovely bosom and a shapely bottom. I wanted men falling all over themselves over me. Jerry is the phony and Vanessa is real. This was a little scary.

The following week, we all went shopping again after my shots, and this time I got some slips, a camisole and a couple teddies and a pair of decidedly girls loafers with a gillie tie at the vamp for work. It’s been getting a little chilly lately and I just can’t seem to resist wearing my gartered stockings and a teddy to the office. I just know the garters show through my man tailored ladies slacks when I sit down in the lunch room. At least I wear nylon socks with my sandals and penny loafers. But they think I’m gay anyway, so what do I care. They treated me ok.

Shirley ran her hand along my thigh one day under the table, felt my garters and just smiled. I only wear really tiny studs to work, well, most of the time. Once in a while I wear the bigger ones. I’ve been having the urge lately to wear my small gold hoops. Now that my ears have healed, I’ve even gotten some pretty dangles and I’m letting my hair grow long enough for at least a page boy. Yes, Monday the gold hoops.

Would I have the nerve to wear the dangles to work? Maybe! Even Sinbad wears dangles and he does it on television but he’s so macho, and I’m so...Alice in Wonderland. I wonder how far Sherry, that’s my boss, will let me go with this? I have a feeling I am going to find out somewhere down the road. Since I’m not required to wear a tie, I’ve been wearing white blouses to work and I have also worn my girl’s loafers now several times.

The men don’t know the difference but the other girls know and they also know which side those buttons should be on. The ‘other’ girls. That is dangerous thinking, Vanessa! I feel so deliciously female lately. I’m getting entirely too bold.

So, actually, I didn’t have a stitch of masculine clothing or jewelry on at work or at home anymore. I even bought a girl’s wrist watch and wore it all the time. And remember to answer to Jerry when you are at work, for heavens sake, I thought to myself.

I’m going to have to be more careful about Marlena. I think she is having me live out my fantasies to their logical conclusions and, if that is true, they are going to be seeing bra straps under my blouses as well because I’ll need one.

I wonder how she is going to finesse getting me to grow boobs? Maybe that’s what the shots are about. No telling, but between devilish little Shirley and her, I’m on pins and needles to see how they do it, not IF but how and when. It really would be nice not to have to use the push up pads in my bra or bustier or be able to wear a nice underwire bra. I think breasts are such a turn on. Sherry, just when are you going to drop the hammer?

With as far as they have brought me, it’s just the next logical step. I just know that they are plotting to make that old dream come true so maybe I had better go to dancing class and learn to FOLLOW! Yes, I will enroll as Vanessa and learn to dance as soon as they’ll take me. I think I’d better wear flats to class at first. After I learn, then I can wear my new snake skin spikes.

Oh yes, my wardrobe keeps expanding, exponentially, as they say. Jerry is being forced into more than one corner. I now have two more pairs of plain vamped opera pumps, one black and the snake skin..

I was becoming a little bolder. I started actually wearing my flats with my pants, even the red ones. I have them in four colors now. A few of the men have become less hostile but more observant. I think they are beginning to get the picture.

The ‘picture’ appears to be shifting along with my fat deposits. I swear I’m growing lovely, sensitive little breasts and my bottom seems to be covering more chair too. And Shirley, bless her devious little heart, apparently has spread the word about the name I use when not at work. And she told me that she has seen to it that they no longer think I’m gay or a ‘queen.’

I’d be fascinated, I’m sure, to know what she told them. I’ll bet it was a wild story, knowing her gift for stretching the truth.

Yesterday, two of them came right out and called me Vanessa out in the office when we were discussing an account. Boy, I blushed six shades the first few times that happened but it is spreading and if THEY accept it, why not I? Even two of the men have started calling me Vanessa in a respectful way. I stand amazed.

Hazel told me, "honey, if you have the nerve to wear flats, why not some mid heeled pumps with your slacks and some makeup?"

This Friday, as she was passing out the paychecks, even Sherry called me Vanessa although my paycheck still said ‘Jerry.’ I didn’t know if it was a dig or a sign of acceptance. By now, I am sure she has heard all the gossip and been clued in by Shirley too. Marlena has been like RELIGIOUS about my shots. I’m getting very milky, soft skin now and my ‘fat’ is nestling rather nicely into my bras and panties. I jiggle!

Shirley says I need to work on my walk. I had always gone to particular lengths to walk like I see other men walk with a long stride and freely swinging arms. Well, I soon discovered I couldn’t take such long strides anyway when I began wearing my Mary Janes with the slacks, but she says I need to keep my upper body more quiet and let the hips loose and swing the arms from the elbow. I knew girls LEARN to walk like girls, loose and smooth with a little wiggle. There’s nothing genetic about the way a girl walks except she is working from a wider pelvis. Just loosen up girl, that’s all.

I thought, alright Vanessa, you can do this. Practice at home and everywhere you go until it just comes naturally and wear at least stacked heels all the time for a while until you get it.

The next time I saw Marlena, I asked her to program me to walk more like a girl and she was happy to comply after giving me my shots. And you know, it makes it so much easier to walk in high heels walking from the hips, nice and loose.

The girls at work noticed right away and were very approving now that they had an idea where I was coming from. But where WAS I coming from? I still felt more like an observer in all of this rather than the OBSERVEE.

A few of the men saw this new walk as flaunting my swish and were obvious in their distaste but now, there wasn’t much I could do except be myself, Vanessa. But Marlena had me walking like a model down a runway and that was just too much, so I asked her to tone me down a notch and she did. Gee, that runway walk is really flaunting it, you know?

So, I began wearing my Mary Janes and other higher stacked heels with my slacks and even at home with my jeans. It really worked: raised some male eyebrows, but it worked. The only problem is that now I CAN’T get the wiggle out.

Vanessa is in gear all the time with jeans, slacks or skirts, it doesn’t matter. Marlena didn’t tell me she was going to make it permanent. On the other hand, why NOT permanent? One wise guy at work let out a low wolf whistle after I passed his desk. I just ignored him but Shirley and the other girls said I was walking much more naturally; well, for a girl, that is.

With this encouragement, I became even bolder and showed up the following Tuesday wearing light makeup; just a pale rose lipstick, mascara and blusher, nothing major. Well, I did tweeze and fill in my brows a little and added a little very light shadow. Again, the other girls were approving of the changes.

I’ve noticed that the girls are not holding back in what they discuss in front of me anymore. I’ve been accepted into the inner circle. Men, sex, clothes, hair, makeup, periods, affairs. No subject was out of bounds anymore. And they made me feel that I could talk about anything with them as well, which gave rise to some interesting questions and answers like when was I going to start coming in with a skirt and spikes on? I couldn’t answer that one.

Well, each journey is begun with but a single step. Shirley, I’m afraid, has let the cat out of the bag where the other girls in the office are concerned. Of course, Sherry has gotten wind of the whole thing as well. They have taken me under their wings and where I had no one to hang out with, now I have several girl buddies. I like having friends who understand me. And they give me all kinds of tips on hair and nail care and other girl stuff. I guess you’d say I have just become ‘one of the girls.’

Several of them have asked me rather pointed questions about why I have been wearing women’s clothing and acting like a girl. I haven’t really gotten into it very deeply with them but have just told them it just feels right for me.

I’ve now been wearing my flats with a bow on the vamp as well as medium height narrow heels and with my hose very obvious for a couple weeks. I’m still wearing slacks though except now I have a couple more pairs in more traditional feminine styles and colors. I told them I’m taking dancing lessons and they think it’s great and will come in handy.

The men just avoid me or make snide remarks behind my back and for now, that is fine with me. They can’t imagine why a male would want to desert the ship. Men have such an ego problem, you know? As if being male makes you a superior animal. You desert a sinking ship, don’t you? Especially a cruise you never really wanted to get on in the first place.

I’ve had to take a cut at my job from Jr. accountant back to bookkeeper but it’s ok. That was part of the hammer falling and didn’t really surprise me. In fact, I’m grateful that’s all it was. Sherry said I can work my way back and it wasn’t really her choice. Her supervisor knew about me too and it was he that demoted me. I guess he’s having a hard time handling this. I’m only two years out of college. Plenty of time to rise to the top. Sherry is in her early forties and has been department head for almost ten years.

It was about 2 months after all this started that Marlena asked me if I wanted to learn any more about emeralds. I just couldn’t resist saying "yes, I can’t WAIT (with a little squeal) [to find out what I’m going to do next."] The next thing I remembered was that I was in this lady doctor’s office. I think she is a gynecologist and my feet were up in stirrups on a table and she gave me a really big shot in my tush, not like the ones Marlena was giving me.

Anyway, I don’t have to wonder anymore when or how. I take a pill every day and a shot every week and my lovely, sensitive breasts continue to blossom. Do I have a choice? Yes. Do I want to stop? No. Will I? Not likely!

I’m having too much fun, and, for the first time in my life, I’m not a loner. I’m also growing like a weed in a couple places and now making no bones about how I dress and am living full time as a girl, which is causing some whispers in my apartment building, still with the slacks at work, though, And the underclothing I was wearing to the office for fun and pleasure? Well, now it is required because when I began HAVING to wear a bra, that is when Sherry put her foot down, HARD! My enlarged, erect nipples showed through just EVERYTHING.

That was the week Sherry came out of her office rather than use the inter-office phone and rather loudly said, "Vanessa Connors, come in here. We need to talk."

I snapped to attention and walked in behind her, my heels clicking all the way and started to shut the door. She said, "leave it open."

"Are you living all the time the way you look here?" "No, I said." "No?"

"No, when I am away from here I wear a normal amount of makeup, skirts, dresses, spike heels; you know, the usual."

"In other words, you are living full time as a woman?" "I guess there is no other way to put it. Yes, and loving every minute of it."

Sherry asked, "just how far do you plan to go with this young lady, just living or all the way female?"

"Probably all the way, Sherry. (I couldn’t believe I was so calm as I spoke). See, I never really wanted to grow up male. In fact, when I was little, I thought I had a choice. Isn’t that silly?"

"Well, hon, everyone has a choice and I see you have finally made that choice. Then from this moment onward, you ARE Vanessa Connors. Your desk name plate will be changed tomorrow and your next paycheck will be to Vanessa Connors. Do you have a bank account in that name?"

"Yes ma’am."

"Good. Then we will direct deposit as usual. Just call and give payroll the number and bank."

"Alright."

"You are not the first, you know!"

"You’re kidding!"

"Not at all. Three years ago. She works in our Philadelphia office now."

"Well, I’ll be...!"

"Yes, I guess you will be our second. Although, with all the crap we have to go through and take from men, I don’t understand why you want to put yourself in high heels. I hope we can all get past that and stay focused."

"I hope so too, Sherry."

"You will meet the company dress code for female employees. This means you will keep the pants suits to a minimum from now on and wear dresses, suits, skirts and blouses, hose and heels at all times.

We also expect your hair, makeup and accessories to be appropriate for the office and you will be expected to show proper respect and conduct yourself as a lady at all times. Clear?"

"Yes ma’am."

"There is nothing we can do about those slacks today, so at least, when you leave my office, get yourself to the powder room and put on a normal amount of makeup. You look like a ghost. Shirley tells me you are very presentable in full bloom, so go show me."

"Thank you Sherry. You really have been very patient with me escalating my femininity every couple weeks."

"That’s alright Vanessa, we understand, but make no mistake, you are now REQUIRED to look your best as a woman in my department regardless of what’s between your legs. Understood?"

"Absolutely!"

"Your fellow employees will now refer to you as Vanessa or Miss Connors, depending on how well you know them or their comfort level with you. If you find someone giving you a hard time or refusing to follow this, which is company policy in these matters, you will give me their name and they will be dealt with. We have a policy of personal freedom and that everyone deserves respect. Is that clear?"

"Yes it is. Very."

"Now, you may want to sit down and write an e-mail letter explaining your position for the intranet, childhood hopes etc., and asking for your fellow employees co-operation or we can send a standard letter. If you want input in this matter, go put down your thoughts and let me see it first. I may have some suggestions. We will send it out tomorrow Vanessa and good luck. I really mean that. Now go put some makeup on and get on that letter. According to what I understand, you will have to work this way for at least a year before you can have your operation anyway."

I now report for work everyday in a skirt or dress, hose, heels, the works, the hair, nails (I have a French manicure airbrushed on at a salon), makeup, hoop or dangle earrings, everything done the best I can. Jerry doesn’t work there anymore. Vanessa does. In fact, the part of me that was Jerry is basically dead. No complications now. I like it this way.

Shirley has taught me how to set and style and braid my hair. All the records have been changed. And since I’m having to work as a girl, my gynecologist sent me to a shrink to help me deal with my transition into the world of women and get the letter I’m going to need in a year. I do feel so much more in tune with myself now.

Darn crafty, that Shirley. She took me over to the license bureau and helped me get a new driver’s license with my proper name. The picture even isn’t that bad. I understand the company attorney will help me get the other stuff changed.

And I thought meeting Marlena was a ‘chance meeting.’ Chance my rosy toed foot! Shirley knew my habits and just where I’d be and I walked right into the spider’s web. I’m so glad she caught me before I wasted my life. I guess I really do have a real friend in her after all.

My shrink says that it is a shame I had to wait even this long to find myself considering my desires since childhood and was fascinated at the story of how it happened. He gave me a letter to carry in case of a problem and another one geared toward helping me change the name on my college diploma and when the time comes, birth certificate in case the attorney needed it.

Jerry gave up his old apartment and I moved into a singles complex. Well, actually, I gave up the apartment for him. Poor dear had to leave town suddenly to take care of his sick aunt.

I never appreciated what girls have to put up with like guys hitting on them all the time. And in high school, I could never understand why every time you called a girl during the week, she had to stay home and do her nails or hair or go to her aerobics class or something. Now I understand.

Being a girl is a high maintenance business. But I do go to dances and church socials and I can manage my high heels just fine now backwards and forward. Well, I’m not really DATING until my ‘real life test’ is over in a few months but I am something of a flirt, much to my surprise. Even then, I’m going to have to wait a while until I heal up. Sherry is being really nice about arranging a little sick leave for me.

Mom and dad were a little shook when they met Vanessa but they said they still loved me and that I certainly looked much happier. I won’t have enough money saved up by the time I’m eligible but Daddy said he’d make up the difference. Wasn’t that sweet? I just found that out last week.

I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria, a treatable condition. Some dysfunctions are more fun than others, don’t you agree? I have a roast in the oven and.....what the...!

"Charlie, STOP IT! I can’t go to work with a hickey there. CHILL! I’m sorry, where was I? Guess it was a good idea not to be too hasty about deciding about men after all. The kissing and petting part sure is fun. I can see losing my virginity is going to be quite an event and a LOT more fun than I had planned.

The end.

 

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