I Would If I Could             by: Deane Christopher             © 2000

 

It was five of two when Greg woke up and blearily glanced over at the clock.

'Should I wake her? Or, should I wait?' he asked the questions of himself.

A minute later, hearing the gurgling cries of their newborn beginning to issue out of the baby monitor that sat alongside of the digital alarm clock, Greg realized that the decision was taken completely out of his hands.

"Grace!" he softly intoned as he reached over and gentle nudged his wife's arm. "I'm sorry to have to be the one to have to tell you this, honey, but by the sound of it, our baby wants to be feed. And, I believe she wants to be feed now.

"Alright!" an annoyed Grace Miller petulantly complained as she began to get out of bed and wearily struggle into her bathrobe. "I'll attend to her!"

"Maybe you ought to reconsider." Greg suggested.

Grumpily, Grace grumbled. "Reconsider what?"

"The breast feeding business!"

"And, why - May I ask! - would I want to do that?"

"Well..." Greg returned with a yawn, "If you went with bottles, I could pitch in and lend a hand. You know, as in I could alleviate you of having to attend to some or, perhaps all of these two o'clock feedings for you. You know, so you could get a good night's sleep. You know, like every once in awhile.

"I mean, as it is now - You know, with you breast feeding like you are! - it's pretty much an I would if I could but I can't kind of situation! You know, because while I might have tits, they don't quite work the way that yours do! "

"I know, dear! You don't have to rub it in! I am well aware of that fact already!" Grace, who was still a whole lot more asleep than she was awake, laconically muttered as she passed out of their bedroom and began to gingerly feel her way along the upper hallway.

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to either Grace or her husband Greg, there had been an interloper who had been clandestinely eavesdropping on their brief exchange.

"So," Grace's mother said smugly, as she continued to gaze deep into her trusty crystal ball, "you would if you could, but you can't!

"Well, oh son-in-law of mine, how about we just see if you are a man of your word or not..."

 

* * *

 

The following night, Greg once again woke from a sound sleep just a little before two. Sure enough, a few minutes after he did so, he heard a gurgle, followed by a coo, which was in turn followed up with an escalating series of whimpers. Knowing that little Allison's whimpers would soon become the desperate wail of a newborn in need of nourishment, Greg felt strangely compelled to get up. Taking get pains not to wake his wife as he did so, Greg slid out from under the covers and gingerly got out of bed. Picking up his bathrobe en route, Greg began to draw it on as he made for little Allison's bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Grace stirred in her sleep. As she did so, she reflexively endeavored to reposition herself so as to snuggle up against that husband of hers. Then, when her repeated efforts to locate Greg proved futile, a fear born premonition began to solidify in the darker recesses of the middle-mind of her id.

Rousted from sleep by an intuitive feeling that something was wrong, Grace, on the verge of frantically calling out for her husband, heard what she took to be the sound of an oddly familiar, though eerily elusive, voice softly emanating out of the baby monitor.

"Hush, little baby. Don't you cry. You'll be an angel by and by..."

Grace knew the song. Every now and again she had heard Greg sing a line or two of it while attending to that new little Allison of theirs.

However, even though the voice that was doing the singing bore an uncanny similarity to her husband's, Grace wasn't convinced that it was Greg who was doing the singing. The voice, she thought, didn't sound like a man's voice. Rather, its' timbre was more in tune with the melodic contralto voice of a woman's.

Grabbing up her bathrobe as she went, a fearful Grace dashing out of the room, down the hallway, and into the nursery.

'Oh, my God!' Grace thought as she beheld the figure who was seated in the rocking chair and cuddling that precious bundle of joy she had given birth to a couple of weeks before.

Though the room was dimly lit, illuminated as was by a couple of strategically placed nightlights, Grace could clearly make out the fact that the figure holding her child bore an uncanny resemblance to her husband, in that the figure could clearly pass for Greg's twin sister.

Trouble was: Greg had neither a twin nor a sister. He had two brothers. One older. The other, younger. But, no sisters.

Then, as an alarmed Grace endeavored to fathom what was going on, she came to the stark realization that the woman seated in the rocker wasn't merely holding her baby, but that her little Alison was suckling away on the woman's rather ample and nicely conical right breast.

"Greg?" Grace intoned uneasily.

In response, the young woman who was nursing Grace's newborn looked up and, with a beatific smile blossoming on her face, tenderly replied, "Isn't she wonderful, honey? I mean, our little Alison has to be the most beautiful baby in the whole wide world!"

"Yes..." a clearly confused and thoroughly disturbed Grace stammered. "Yes, she is!

"Are you alright?"

"Yes..." there was a sense of unfettered joy clearly conveyed in the female Greg's response. "Alison and I are getting along just fine.

"So, tell you what, honey. Since I can handle things in here, why don't you go back to bed and get yourself some sleep. Believe me! Not only have you earned it, but, given how bedraggled you've been looking here lately, you need to get as much rest as you can get!

"So, don't worry! As soon as our little Alison gets her fill, I'll be joining you..."

Shaking her head in abject disbelief as she did so, Grace, knowing that she was leaving Alison in the good hands of her fetchingly feminized husband, turned about and with a 'goodnight' and 'you know where to find me if you need me' exited the nursery.

 

* * *

 

In a voice that was reminiscent of the Samantha Stevens character in the sitcom Bewitched, Grace, upon reentering the master bedroom, harshly exclaimed, "Mother!"

To wit, a disembodied voice sagely replied, "Yes, dear."

"Why, mother? Why in the world did you turn Greg into a woman?"

"To help you, dear. I turned that husband of yours into a woman so that you could get a good night's sleep.

"You see, Grace, last night Greg said something or other about how he would be more than happy to pitch in and help you attend to breast feeding my grandchild. You know, if, that is: he was anatomically capable of doing so.

"So, I just arrange things in such a way so that he was capable of doing just that."

"But, mother!" Grace complained.

"Don't you 'but mother' me, child!" the disembodied voice of Grace's mother returned sternly.

"As much as I hate to admit this: your husband's right! You're not getting enough rest! You're starting to look far to haggard to suit me!

"Besides, Greg offered to help! All I did was to arrange things so he could!"

"Alright, mom! I appreciate what you're trying to do! You know, because I really do need to get some rest! But, a woman, mom! You had to go so far as to actually turn my husband into a woman?"

"Yes, dear. I'm sorry to say that I did.

"At first, I was only going to fit him out with a female breast. But, my research showed me that while I could do that, the breast I bestowed upon him would only be a cosmetic change. You know, as in the breast I fitted out with wouldn't go so far as to actually produce milk!

"So, in order to make a long story short, given all the hormonal crap involved in the production of breast milk, I found that I had to go whole hog and turn that husband of yours into a fully functioning woman.

"But, not to worry, dear! The change isn't in any way, shape or form permanent!"

"It isn't?"

"No, dear! It most certainly isn't!

"Once that adorable grandchild of mine has drank her fill, that Greg of yours will - within the next half an hour or there abouts - revert to being a man again.

"That's to say that I've arranged things so that your husband will only be a woman on a temporary bases.

"Also, I should tell you that he will only be changing into a woman at night. You know, as in I wove the dusk till dawn qualifier into the spell I used. However, I should warn you that I had to set the maternal instinct I saddled that husband of yours with on the highest level.

"In other words, dear, whenever Greg is a woman, I strongly suggest that you leave little Allison's care to him. You know, as in you need to butt out and let him take care of whatever it is that needs to be taken care of! Otherwise, the two you could end up butting heads. And, should that happen, you could be letting yourself in for some real marital trouble!"

"But!" Grace managed to get in an objection. "Isn't he going to remember his being a woman?"

"No, dear! Not if everything works the way it's supposed to...

"And, if he does remember anything, the way I've got things rigged, it'll seem to him more like a dream than anything else..."

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, while the two of them were having dinner, Greg broached a subject on a matter that had been bothering him.

"Grace. I think you ought to know that I've toying around with the idea of going to see someone. You know, to get some counseling. "

"Whatever for?"

"Well... to be honest with you, I'm starting to think that this baby business is doing a real number on my head!

"Now don't get me wrong! You know, because I absolutely love being a father and I think I've been a pretty good one so far! It's just..."

"It's just what, honey?" Grace felt the need to nudge her husband in order to get him to finish his statement.

"It's just that I find that I'm becoming increasingly envious of you!

"You see, dear... as much as I hate to admit this..." Greg was having a hell of a hard time making his admission. "...I've been having this - I guess what you might call! - really strange reoccurring dream in which I'm the one who is breast-feeding Allison!

"You know, as in I'm woman in this dream and I'm actually breast feeding our baby!"

"And, what's really disturbing is: I find that I'm starting to really like it! You know, to the point where I find myself sometimes actually wishing that I was a woman! You know, and a mother as well!"

"Tell you what, Greg!" Grace's mother disembodied voice chimed in with a self-satisfied smirk. "You continue to be a good husband to my daughter and a good father to my grandchild and maybe one of these days, I'll see what I can do to make that wish of yours will come true!"

Incredulously, Grace fumed, "Mother!"

 

* * * The End * * *

© 2000
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this story must contact the author for permission.