Author Note: On June 21^st I lost a close friend. She was a pre-op transsexual working through several tough personal issues. One of these involved a desire to be dominated by a stern mistress. I originally wrote Jamie’s Mistress as a comment on what I thought was a certain pattern of self-destructive behavior involving this fantasy mistress. When I learned of her death, my first feeling was one of guilt because I thought I should have done more. I had the task of going through her things and settling her estate. As I poked and prodded through all the treasures of this person’s life I was constantly reminded of how much and how little we leave behind. This story grew from those feelings.

As always, I want to remind the reader that this is a work of fiction. The persons and events portrayed are not meant to refer to any actual person or event.

 

Jamie’s Legacy            by: Marti B

 

I was having one of those days. You know the type. It was one of those exquisitely dreadful days where everything that could possible go wrong had; along with three additional things that I firmly believed could never go wrong!

I glanced at my watch to confirm my worst fears. We were forty-three minutes into our second hour discussing whether or not our department needed a program to teach managers how to quickly analyze the situation and make timely, accurate decisions. As my counterpart from mid-west sales droned on relentlessly I mentally identified several candidates for the first class.

The sound of the conference room door opening was quiet enough to not formally interrupt the meeting but loud enough to immediately grab everyone’s attention. Sherry, my administrative assistant, poked her head through the opening and motioned for me to come with her. I was saved! As I strode out of the meeting I noticed several of my peers slumping deeper into their chairs as they realized that only I was being rescued.

"Sherry, you are a true life saver. You’ve just earned mega bonus points. I owe you big time! What’s up?" I asked as soon as the door shut behind us and I saw the concerned look on her face.

"Rick, there are two police officers waiting in your office. They wouldn’t tell me what they wanted but made me go get you. Is anything wrong?"

I thought for a moment. I paid my last parking ticket in April. "No, not that I know of. They didn’t give you a hint?"

We discussed every conceivable possibility for the police visit as we rode the elevator down to my office. The two officers stood as we approached. They introduced themselves and suggested that we go somewhere private before they would tell me the reason for their visit. We went into my office. As soon as the door closed Detective James asked, "Do you know a Jamie McKay?"

"Yes, of course I do!" Then the realization hit and I made the mental connection between the question and the men in my office. "Is he ok?"

"Mr. Nelson, may I call you Rick? Thanks. A body tentatively identified as Jamie McKay was found at the bottom of a hotel pool this morning. Right now we aren’t sure of the cause of death so we’re out interviewing friends and family trying to figure out if foul play was involved. "

"Now, you referred to Jamie as he. That indicates some degree of intimate knowledge since we had assumed that we were dealing with a dead female until the medical examiner told us that our female had a penis. What exactly was your relationship to the deceased?"

"Jamie and I have been friends since the third grade!" I replied. "We did everything together through grade and high school. We went our separate ways in college but still got together on vacations and over the summer. I was his best man and the godfather to his oldest daughter. I knew about the hormones and the planned sex change but I didn’t agree with him. I sided with his wife Barb and tried to convince Jamie that this was a very bad idea. That put a strain on our friendship over the past two and a half years, but we still talked."

"Were you aware of anyone who may have wanted to harm Miss McKay?" "Any lovers? Business acquaintances? Anyone?"

I shook my head no to each question. The officers asked about family. I told them about Barb and let them know that Jamie and Barb separated two years ago and that they were legally divorced. The officers asked if I knew where to find Barb. I gave them her phone number and address from memory.

"Look, Barb and I have talked about Jamie quite a bit since the split. Jamie asked me to check on Barb and the girls."

We spent about an hour talking about Jamie. I agreed to go with the officers to identify the body. I told Sherry that I’d be back around two. On the way to the morgue Detective James cautioned me that Jamie wasn’t a pretty sight. He tried to prepare me with general descriptions of the effects of immersion on the human body.

He didn’t prepare me enough. It was Jamie; there was no mistake in that respect. As I looked down at my friend, the beauty that came through despite the ravages of his untimely death struck me. Jamie had continued with her surgery. That was clear. As I looked at my friend, I was struck by a profound sense of loss.

I went with the officers and answered a few more questions. They told me that the cause of death was officially listed as accidental drowning. I got back to the office around two forty-five to find yet another stranger waiting to talk with me.

My new visitor was a very attractive lady about thirty years old. Her short brown hair was styled into a near chin length bob. Her make-up was tastefully done and she was dressed in a conservative gray suit with a soft white blouse. I don’t know why, but my immediate reaction was "lawyer".

"Mr. Nelson? Hi, my name is Lynn Witherspoon. I work at Dunn, Dunn and Dunn. We represent the estate of Jamie Mc Kay. Can we go somewhere private and talk? I promise not to take too much of your valuable time."

Sherry’s frustration with being kept in the dark was obvious. To win a few points I asked Ms. Witherspoon if she would like something to drink. She politely declined. I asked Sherry if she would bring a diet Coke for me knowing that it would give her a chance to hear at least part of the conversation.

As soon as we were seated in my office Ms. Witherspoon began.

"As you know, Miss McKay died yesterday as a result of a tragic accident. Your secretary told me about the police visit and that you had to go identify the body. I’m very sorry for your loss and that you had to go through that painful process."

"Mr. Nelson, we usually wait a brief period before we approach the issue of the estate but, in this case, Jamie left very specific instructions. She named you as the executor of the estate. The bulk of the money, three hundred thousand goes to the spouse and children, as does the life insurance in the amount of six hundred fifty thousand."

She opened her case and extracted a set of keys. Sherry also arrived with my Coke. I told Ms Witherspoon to continue allowing Sherry to hear the next statement.

"These are the keys to Jamie McKay’s condo and car. The will leaves the condo and all possessions to you along with a bank account totaling one hundred fifty thousand. The only stipulation is that you enter the residence today and spend the next five nights there. It also stipulates that you will agree to be at the appointed place and time for any appointments and that you will willingly comply with the instructions from the individuals you meet. Do you agree to these clauses?"

"I’m not sure. What appointments could Jamie have made for me without knowing that she was going to die?"

"I can’t answer that question Mr. Nelson. All I know is that Miss McKay set forth a series of conditions in her will and it’s my duty to advise you of these conditions. Do you know where the condo is?"

Ms. Witherspoon gave me a card with the address on it when I told her that I’d only picked Jamie up there once about six months ago. There was a number on the card that she said I was to call when I entered the condo and again at ten-thirty tonight. I was to call from the condo phone since the system was automated and used caller id to verify that I was, in fact, in the condo. I told her that I didn’t have any questions and shook her offered hand at the door.

I put the keys and card on the corner of my desk and tried to get some work done but it was impossible to think about anything but Jamie. I thought about the fun times growing up. I remembered our double date in high school when we went back to one of the girl’s houses after the football game and dance. We got high on some bad weed. Somehow the conversation turned to which of the guys would make the better girl. Before I knew what was happening Marcia, my date was fluffing up my hair and putting make-up on me while Jamie and Lynn retreated to another room. My protests stopped her from plucking my eyebrows and I did very little to cooperate. Lynn knocked on the door about a half hour later and asked if we were ready. She and Jamie entered. My breath escaped in a high pitch whistle. Jamie was beautiful! It was obvious that he didn’t share my reluctance. He had given Lynn full reign and the transformation was complete and stunning.

I also remembered that dark day when Jamie told me about his mistress and about the changes she had demanded. Barb had called me in tears saying that Jamie was leaving. She told me that his fantasy about being a submissive she-male serving a strict mistress had gone too far. There had been a fight and Jamie was given a choice of family or mistress. He decided to leave. She begged me to help and talk to Jamie. Jamie and I met for dinner that night. I was stunned by my friend’s appearance. He was a she! I mean it was still my friend but electrolysis and hormones had done their work well.

We talked and argued that night over pasta and wine. I’m sure that it looked like a lover’s spat to the other diners. I called Jamie a fool. He told me that I just didn’t understand. In the end, he cried and told me that his mistress left him no choice. I demanded that he seek professional counseling. I told him that his mistress was in his mind. He responded that I was both right and wrong. His mistress controlled his mind along with his heart but inside he was only a lowly servant. His words as we parted that night came back to me with a rush of guilt.

"Rick, you don’t understand and refuse to listen! I love Barb and the girls and would do anything to stay with them but I can’t. She has taken control. I think there was a time when I could stand up to her but she’s just too strong now. You tell me it’s all in my mind but you don’t know the torment I’m going through."

Our friendship went through a fundamental change that night. We stayed in contact but it was more through telephone calls. We seldom saw each other and usually ended the occasion arguing. Six months ago we met for dinner. Jamie stopped conversation as she entered the café. She was a beautiful woman in everyone’s eyes but mine. I continued to see my old boyhood pal in a strange costume. It was a tough night for me but I began to listen to my friend. In the end, I accepted Jamie for the person she had become and a small part of our friendship was repaired.

I tried to maintain my composure but a tear escaped and trickled down my cheek. I thought of that last meeting and wondered what could have happened if my pride hadn’t gotten in the way and we had that conversation a year or more ago. I picked up the keys and absentmindedly twisted them in my fingers as I sat, lost in thought.

My thoughts focused on my life, Jamie’s life, I guess, everyone’s life. What is it that makes each person special? What do we leave behind for those who follow us? Is our legacy measured in material possessions, in the acts we perform, or in the lives we touch? I thought about Jamie. His legacy should have been a beautiful family and the two very special girls born of his and Barb’s union. He turned his back on all of that and what’s left to show. What legacy did Jamie leave behind? Is it measured in the money in his estate, the condo? Am I part of that legacy since my life was touched and, in many ways molded by our friendship? At four o’clock I packed up my things, told Sherry that I had to go home and left for the condo.

I decided to take my car home first and then get a cab to Jamie’s. I arrived at Jamie’s place at four-forty. The condo sat in a section of downtown that was undergoing a revival as young professionals bought and renovated older row houses. The brightly lit streets with the fancy houses and chic café’s stood in stark contrast to the seedy neighborhoods that continued to resist the onslaught of prosperity. Jamie had a two-story townhouse on the end of a block of row houses. The end unit location allowed the builder to employ a side entrance with a relatively large porch. White wicker chairs and a small table provided a unique vantage point for observing life on the street. I imagined Jamie and friends sipping coffee or grabbing a light meal while seated here.

I unlocked the door and was immediately taken by the place. The furnishings were not expensive but the collection was very feminine and tasteful. Lace curtains draped scarf like across the large windows. The living room was very Victorian. Over by the window was an exquisite Queen Anne chair and side table. The hardwood floor was partially covered by a beautifully woven rug. The kind usually found hanging in museums. It was neat and clean but also showed evidence that this was a place where people lived. I sat on the loveseat and dialed the number Ms Witherspoon had given me. An automated voice acknowledged my presence and reminded me to call again at ten-thirty.

I went into the kitchen and got a glass of ice water. I sipped as I walked around looking at everything but afraid to touch anything. I returned to the love seat to call my girl Denise. As I sat I noticed the plastic bottles on the end table. I picked up one of the bottles and began to read the label. The product promised dramatic results in as little as three months. I turned the bottle around to read the ingredients. Each capsule contained a variety of natural herbs that were guaranteed to increase my bust size by one full cup in as little as twelve weeks. My curiosity peaked; I opened the bottle and gave it a gentle shake. Four, no five capsules tumbled out into my left palm. I set the bottle down and picked one of the clear capsules up between my right thumb and forefinger. It looked harmless enough. Just a clear gelatin capsule filled with medium brown nuggets. They looked like seeds in there. I stared at the capsule for about a minute then popped it into my mouth and swallowed. The remaining four capsules followed one at a time separated by a brief sip of water. As soon as I swallowed the last capsule I began to question my motives. Did I really want to develop a larger bust? I was fairly sure that the answer was no but I had my doubts. Why did I take the capsules if I didn’t want the results? Well, I rationalized to myself, one dose was not going to bring about any changes.

As I continued to look around the place my mind wandered. The directions said to take one dose in the morning and one dose at bedtime. I had swallowed the pills at five after five. Was that a morning or bedtime dose? I responded that it was my one and only dose!

I continued to poke around Jamie’s things. He, I mean she had quite a collection of fashionable clothes. I found myself holding a powder blue blouse up to see how I’d look. Embarrassed at catching myself with these thoughts, I quickly put the blouse back in the closet and moved on. I went back to the living room and turned on the television to catch the six o’clock news. I don’t remember much other than the fact that I woke at ten-fifty. I dialed the number Ms. Witherspoon had given me for the second time that day and was rewarded by the same mechanical voice acknowledging the time and wishing me a good night.

My clothes were a mess. I must have tossed and turned quite a bit in my sleep since the suit jacket and pants looked like they had been professionally wrinkled. My shirt stuck to my sweaty back and my underwear had bunched in a damp mess. I quickly undressed and took a shower. Jamie’s soap left my body with a faint floral scent. I padded around the condo in my now clean birthday suit looking for something suitable to wear. Eventually, I gave up and decided to sleep naked rather than wear one of Jamie’s nightgowns. That decision made, I went out to the living room to retrieve my water glass. I replaced the now warm water in the glass with ice and filtered water from the dispenser on the refrigerator door. I went back to the living room to turn off the light. I looked at the bottle sitting next to the lamp. Should I? Why not I decided and poured four more capsules out of the plastic bottle. I washed each capsule down with a sip of water and went off to bed.

I awoke to a strange beeping sound. I hit the top of the alarm clock but the sound persisted. I looked at the clock. Eight-fifteen! I called Sherry’s number and told her voice mail that I was sick and wouldn’t be in today. I gave her Jamie’s number and said that I could be reached there, or on my cell phone. I followed the sound to the kitchen. Jamie had purchased one of those computers that attach to the refrigerator door to replace the board and dry marker. I did manage to stop in the living room for my morning dose of bust enhancers. After pressing each of the buttons individually and several different combinations the annoying sound ceased. I looked at the screen and saw

"Rick – Dr Sorenston 9:45"

The message went on to provide an address that I was able to look up using the computer’s internet interface. I had no idea what the appointment was about since I did not make an appointment. I remembered the stipulation that Ms. Witherspoon had gone over yesterday afternoon. I copied the address and jotted down a few brief directions. Using my finger, I was able to open the set of appointments for the day by double tapping on the day. I saw that I had another appointment at eleven with Jodie and April. I copied this address down as well and once again checked the internet map. The new location was three blocks from the doctor’s office and only two from here. I copied down the directions and headed off to the shower.

I emerged from the shower to face another dilemma. What to wear? My cloths were in desperate need of dry cleaning and it didn’t look like Jamie had saved any male garments. I found a pair of flowered cotton panties. These were ok because they wouldn’t show. I searched through all the closets. I ended up with the blue blouse I had held up the night before and a navy pantsuit. The next problem was where to carry my wallet and keys. This suit didn’t have the same pockets that I was used to. I couldn’t just hold my wallet and keys in my hand all day. I saw the purse hanging over the back of the chair. It was navy blue and I was sure it would match. I dumped my wallet and keys into the purse.

My search for clothing didn’t leave much time to get to my nine forty-five appointment. I decided to ship shaving, mainly because I just didn’t seem manly to shave with a Venus razor. Besides, the handle felt weird in my hands and I didn’t want to slice my face. I fluffed some mouse into my hair and ran my fingers through it pushing my damp hair back away from my face and hurried off to my appointment.

Dr. Sorenston’s office was in a chic group of stores and offices centered on a shady courtyard. I saw that the doctor was a counselor specializing in individual, family, teen and gender counseling. I glanced at my reflection in the window. My hair had dried into a series of loose curls. I reached for my comb only to realize that I had no pocket. I opened my purse and rummaged through the various contents without finding a comb or brush. What kind of girl goes out without a brush, I thought. The silent question left me to ponder whom I was talking about. Was I irritated at Jamie for not including a brush along with the other normal girl items or was I mad at myself for not thinking ahead. I used my fingers to break the stiff curls into a softer but still feminine look. My image in the window was a study in incongruities. A woman’s suit and blouse, a casual but feminine hairstyle, and a five o’clock shadow.

I entered the doctor’s office thankful to find the waiting room empty. A receptionist gave me a genuinely warm smile as she asked my name and checked it against the list of appointments. She handed me a clipboard with some papers to fill out. A cheap ballpoint pen dangled from the board on a string of interlocked elastic bands. I sat and began filling in the usual information about name, address and insurance. I surprised myself by listing Jamie’s address as mine. The questions that followed caused me to stop and think.

"Do you ever wear female clothes?" I looked at myself and had to check yes.

"Do you style your hair in a feminine manner?" Remembering my thoughts just outside the door I had to say yes again.

"Have you ever taken any dietary supplements (over the counter or prescribed) designed to enhance the feminine attributes of your appearance?" Again, based on the events of the last two days, I had to say yes.

The questions went on for another page and a half. I was concerned with the number of my yes answers. Did I seriously want to be a female? To days ago I would have vehemently said no. Now, I wasn’t sure. What’s more, I was scared.

I returned the papers to the receptionist. She directed me to go down the hall to the last door on the left. I was to disrobe down to my underwear and put on one of the cotton gowns on the shelf in the room. I would find a locker for my clothes in the room.

I went down the hall as directed. I began to disrobe and quickly realized that the fact that I was wearing panties was going to make it difficult to explain the special set of circumstances that resulted in my yes answers. The pink floral robe didn’t help either. I put the robe on, placed my clothes in the locker and took the key. When I opened the door a nurse greeted me. She led me to the examination room.

The nurse took my temperature, blood pressure and pulse. She asked me questions about my medical history. Again the use of hormones came up. I answered honestly but tried to add an explanation. By the smile on the nurse’s face I could tell that she didn’t believe me. The nurse completed her questions, made a few more notes on the page, and left me alone to wait for the doctor.

Even the shortest wait in an examining room seems to take forever. You have no pockets with coins to jiggle and the reading material usually concerns subjects best left unknown. I was standing in front of the polished steel cabinet trying to arrange my hair when the doctor entered. Caught in a female act. All my protests about the apparent confusion concerning my intentions evaporated.

"Good morning Mr. Nelson; or do you prefer Miss? May I call you Rick?"

"Hi doctor. I was running late this morning and didn’t have time to dry my hair before going out the door. I was just trying to do something with it."

"I understand completely. I think your hair looks cute. Now, lets get started. As you know, we have a full service clinic here to address the needs of women and transgendered individuals. My specialty is psychology. If you continue with our treatment plan I’ll introduce you to Dr Lofton. She’s our surgeon. Now, why do think your true gender is female?"

Gosh, straight to the point. My mind went into overdrive. I began to formulate protests and clarifications. I needed to set the matter straight, right now!

Then I noticed a curious thing. While I was focused on the mental process of putting together a cohesive defense, my mouth had opened and a completely different story emerged. I tried to stop myself but couldn’t. It was as though my consciousness was being held prisoner inside my skull and that someone else had taken control of my body. I was telling the doctor about childhood experiences that I didn’t remember. My legs were crossed demurely in a feminine manner that just allowed my robe to slip open revealing my panties. As my possessed body realized that the robe as open my hands went instinctively to hide my nonexistent breasts allowing the doctor a better view of my panties. The slight upturn of the corners of her mouth let my know that she saw and had formed an opinion.

My mind struggled for freedom as I continued to tell the story of a troubled child hood. As I told about the cross dressing event following the football game it was me that insisted on a full make over. I told how my father went through the ceiling when he saw my plucked eyebrows and painted nails. I told the doctor about suppressing my feelings and the constant inner struggle to maintain a male façade as I tried to maintain a more ‘normal’ behavior through high school. I told the doctor about the joy that came when I went to college. The freedom to dress helped to rekindle my inner desires. Following college I was again forced to hide my true nature behind a macho facade. My voice begged the doctor for help as tears flowed freely.

I found myself wrapped in the doctor’s arms as she tried to comfort me. A gentle touch as she dabbed the tears from my cheek.

"I understand completely." The doctor said. "Based on today’s interview and the test results that we have from previous sessions I think you are an excellent candidate for transition. I’ll write out a prescription for you. These pills will be more effective than anything you can get over the counter. It won’t be long before you’ll be able to see the initial effects. Additionally, I’m providing you with the names of several other recognized gender counselors since most surgeons require two independent physiological evaluations prior to sexual reassignment surgery. Do you have any questions?"

I wanted to scream! My mind beat itself into a frenzy trying to escape and be heard. All of this turmoil was internal however and went completely unnoticed by the doctor. Instead, I heard my voice thank the doctor and tell he that I couldn’t wait to get started. We hugged, and the doctor left.

The nurse came in a directed me back to the dressing room. I changed, stopped at the check out desk to pick up my prescriptions and referrals, and then departed. As I left the building I suddenly felt drained. Whatever force had gained control of my body was gone and in its place I felt empty and alone. I had to sit on a bench for almost fifteen minutes to regain my composure. Something was happening to me. An external power seemed to have invaded my life and taken control. I was scared and I needed help.

Right then I decided to call my girl Denise. I took out my cell phone and dialed her number. I needed to talk and confide in someone. Unfortunately, all I had was Denise’s voice mail. I told Denise that I needed help and to call me. I gave her Jamie’s address and phone number. I reviewed the directions to my second appointment for the morning and started walking. Pretty soon the warm sun and the pleasant temperature helped me to forget the episode at the doctor’s office. Well, not exactly forget, but I felt that things would work out all right in the long run.

As I approached the destination I began looking at the signs over the various shops. One sign caught my attention and I knew without reading the address that it was my destination. "Simply Bare" was the name of the establishment. They offered skin care, permanent makeup, and hair removal. My mind said run away but my legs seemed to move on their own. Again I felt that mental prison door shut. My mind screamed but my body entered "Simply Bare" without a care in the world.

"Hi, you must be Riki." Said a voice from behind a curtain. A girl of about twenty-five stuck he blonde head out of the part in the curtains. "I’m Jodie. We’re all set so why don’t you come on back and we’ll get started."

I followed the head as it disappeared through the curtains. A tall red head was working on some device to the right.

"That’s April." Said Jodie with a smile. "Ok, why don’t you get undressed. You can hang your clothes over there."

My mind kept trying to tell my body to run but the messages were intercepted at the prison door. I tried three times to say that I changed my mind but instead told the girls how much I was looking forward to being hair free forever. I got undressed for the second time that morning.

Jodie and April walked around me looking and touching. They seemed to be conferring without words since I saw several raised eyebrows and answering nods.

"Ok Riki, here’s the plan. I know you signed up for laser treatments on the back and front of your torso, wax on the legs and bikini, and electrolysis for the face. What we’d like to do is start on your face and use our new laser treatment. Its totally, totally safe and we’ll be able to clear the entire face in one to two sessions rather than the six months of electrolysis. That’s better for you since you won’t have to let your beard grow for a couple of days and can dress 24/7."

"While April does your face, I’ll start on your chest and abdomen. Then we’ll roll you over, get your back with the laser and finish up with the wax on the legs and bikini. Are you sure you don’t want the laser on your legs as well. It will end the monthly trips here."

Again I felt that I couldn’t express my true feelings. I tried to scream that I liked my body hair and had no intention of giving it up. Instead, my voice answered that I thought the facial laser was just fine. My voice also went on to ask if the girls had considered my other request.

Jodie’s eyes light up.

"Oh wow! Do you really want to go through with it? This is so neat! OK, let me think. We’ll save the Brazilian for last if that’s ok with you"

I agreed and the girls started to work. I positioned myself on the table. April moved a stool to the left of my head and explained the functioning of the small laser device in her hand. She gave me a pair of eye protectors to wear. She began as soon as I had the protectors in place. It wasn’t unpleasant. My face felt warm, almost like it did after several hours in the sun. April’s red tresses tickled my face as she moved the laser from spot to spot. I could feel that Jodie was also busy. She began on my chest and worked her way down the center. She moved to my right breast followed by the left. Jodie asked me to raise my arm and I felt the warmth of the laser clearing my underarms. I felt the laser burn away the hair on my arms and hands.

My body was outwardly calm but again, my mind was pounding against the inside of my skull trying to be heard. As the warm glow of the laser’s touch progressed across my body I began to lose hope. By the time Jodie was working on my left arm my resistance was broken. I realized that, in the words of the Borg, resistance was futile. Mentally, I began to relax. I almost enjoyed the experience.

Soon it was time to roll over so the girls could do my back. Jodie worked the right side of my back while April concentrated on the left. They began at my neck. April explained that they were creating a permanent hairline and that I wouldn’t have to shave the back of my neck as part of the haircut process. They rapidly worked their way down my back. I was surprised when I felt my panties being pulled down. I must have tensed up.

"Relax Riki, we just want to get rid of all that ugly hair that goes from the small of your back down into your butt crack. Besides, the laser is a lot less painful than waxing and we’ll never have to do this again."

The girls soon finished the process. April gave me one more chance to change my mind and have the laser treatment on my legs. I insisted that I was looking forward to monthly waxing. I stayed on my stomach. Within a couple of minutes I felt a warm sticky substance being spread on my calves. Jodie asked me if the wax was too hot. I told her it felt just fine. One of the girls placed a linen cloth over the waxed leg and rubbed.

"Ready?"

I said I was and nearly jumped as the cloth, wax, and hairs were ripped from my body. Almost immediately I felt the warm stickiness or a new wax application on the side of my left leg. Again the cloth was applied and the area was rubbed. This time there was no warning before the rip. The process continued all the way up my legs.

"OK Riki, time to roll over!"

I rolled over on my back and the girls went to work beginning with my shins. At least now I could watch them as they worked. It wasn’t long before they were done with my legs. April looked up and smiled. She waved the wax applicator next to her head.

"Last chance to chicken out. No. You’re a lot braver than I would be. Ok then, lest get started."

I wiggled out of my panties. Once they cleared my hips the girls pulled them the rest of the way off. Jodie disappeared from view and I heard the clanking of heavy metal objects off to the left. She reappeared with a set of stirrups that she and April fitted into slots at the end of the table. Each girl grabbed one of my legs and quickly strapped them into the stirrups.

"This will open up the area for us to work."

April and Jodie discussed the order they would follow. They decided top start at the top. I heard the buzz of the clippers before I saw them in Jodie’s hand.

"Your pubic hair is kinda long." She explained. "We just want to trim it a little so we can be more precise with the waxing."

With that explanation Jodie began to trim my pubic hair. Her left hand lifted my sac and the clippers swept the area to the left. I began to enjoy the soft touch of Jodie’s hand and the pleasant vibration of the clippers as she clipped the hair above my shaft. Jodie moved around and clipped the right side. Then I felt my scrotum being lifted and the clippers began to vibrate their way along the underside of my sac.

I don’t know if it was the tough of Jodie’s hand or the vibration of the clippers but I responded with one of the hardest, straightest erections of my life. The girls laughed and teased me about my waxing fetish. Even as they kidded me about my raging hard-on I felt the warm stickiness of the wax as the girls worked as a team. Both Jodie and April applied the linen strips and rubbed them.

Rip, rip. Both strips were removed without warning although the timing suggested silent coordination. I nearly levitated from the pain. The girls sensed my suffering and I was rewarded with kisses on both cheeks. The girls began applying the wax to the area above my penis. They were working carefully and seemed to be avoiding the center. Again the tandem rips as wax and hair was removed. I wanted this to stop but was unable to speak. I felt my sac being lifted and held aloft as a coat of sticky wax was applied. I knew what was coming as the cloth strip was firmly rubbed into place. I braced myself for the pain.

It did no good. The pain brought tears to my eyes and a moan from my lips. What was most curious though, is that the pain had no effect on my erection. Was some part of me enjoying this?

"Almost done Riki." Said April as I felt the wax being applied to the top of my sac and the base of my penis. She gave me a passionate kiss just as the final hair was removed.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Well, how do you like it?" April asked as she held a mirror up for me to see the results of their effort. "We were going to leave you with a simple landing strip but decided that you deserved something special."

Looking in the mirror I could see my bareness. I could also see the arrow pointing at my penis. The shaft of the arrow was about an inch wide. The arrowhead spread an additional half-inch on either side and then angled sharply in to a point that just barely touched the base of my shaft. I had to marvel at the precision of the design, especially when you consider that two different people worked simultaneously on it.

"Almost done." Jodie’s voice broke the spell of the mirror.

"Almost?" I asked with some bit of trepidation.

"Yes, you heard me. Almost done." Jodie replied. "There is the matter of the bet you made when you booked this appointment and asked about the Brazilian. Remember, April was worried that you would get an erection and that it could cause problems. You said that there was no way you would get hard while we worked and said that we were free to do anything else to you if you did."

"Well, Miss Stiff-Dick, time to pay up. We’re trying to decide whether to do permanent make-up or pierce your nipples. What would you prefer?"

"What do you mean permanent make-up?" I asked.

"Oh you know. Eyebrows, eyeliner, lips. You’d definitely look more feminine, all the time. So, what’ll it be?"

I didn’t want to look more feminine, especially permanently. I also didn’t want to have my nipples pierced. I couldn’t pick either option and so I remained silent.

"Too late, guess we get to decide." Said April. "Riki, you’re going to get off easy today. The only things to be pierced will be your ears. Why don’t you get dressed."

I breathed a sigh of relief as the girls helped me up. I pulled my panties up my smooth legs. Gosh what a feeling! The next sensation was even better as the silky nylon caressed my hairless crotch. I finished dressing and sat as the girls went to get their piercing guns. Lots of guys have pierced ears I told myself. No big deal.

"Ok Riki, we’ll give you a sporting chance. Take this die and roll it to see how many times we pierce each ear."

This was a little more than I’d bargained for but a lot less stressful than the alternatives so I grabbed the die and tossed it across the table. As the die tumbled I had trouble following the changing dot patterns but could clearly see the six every time it appeared. Not six, not six I kept repeating as if I had any influence on the result. I must have closed my eyes because the first indication I had that the die had stopped tumbling was Jodie’s laugh. I opened my eyes and peered at the die. I must have really screwed my eyes shut because I had a tough time focusing at first. I really didn’t need to see cause April happily announced the result.

"Four!" She cried. "I was sure you were going to get off with a one or two. This is great!"

The two girls conferred softly. Occasionally, each would look over at me and smile. I thought about running for the door but didn’t. It seemed that I just couldn’t do anything to escape from this day. So I sat.

The girls approached armed with pens and the piercing guns. They took a lot of time measuring the first two hole placements on my earlobes. They both checked each side and made several small corrections before they were satisfied. Pop, pop. The first two studs were in place. I was surprised that there really was no pain, only a tightness where the backing was firmly seated against the back of my ear. Pop, pop. In rapid-fire fashion I had two more studs slightly behind and above the first set. Pop, pop. This time there was no symmetry. April had put a third stud in my left lobe but Jodie had placed her’s about halfway up my ear. I opened my mouth to ask when the twin pops marked the completion of the task. The last set of holes were high up on the back of my ears and, once again, symmetrical. I sat staring at my image in the mirror. I could feel the additional weight of the studs as I turned my head from side to side.

"We decided on the asymmetrical look." Said Jodie. "Its not the normal way a girl gets her ears pierced but hey, I think it looks really cute. Who knows, you could set a trend."

I booked a follow-up appointment in four weeks and turned to the door. The girls refused my offer of a tip saying that it had been included in the original payment. I thanked them although my voice lacked a certain degree of conviction in the statement.

I started walking. I think I was headed back to Jamie’s place but I’m not sure. I walked in a daze trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the past two days beginning with the police visit. I remember looking at my reflection in a passing store window. Was that really me? Not just the appearance, but also the behavior. Normally I had not problem making a decision then defending my actions. That’s what helped me move up the corporate ladder so quickly. But, over the last two days I seemed unable to decide and then follow through on anything. I was letting people around push me into actions that I never would have contemplated on my own. Was some unseen force guiding my actions? Should I be worried?

I don’t know what broke me out of my introspection but one thing became immediately apparent. I was lost! I didn’t recognize the street or the stores from my walk earlier that morning. I did a slow pirouette on the sidewalk hoping to see something that I could remember. Nothing. I looked at the shops around me and headed for the door that looked the friendliest.

As I entered the shop I received a cheerful "Can I help you?" from the girl behind the counter.

"Hi. Actually, there are two things you can do to help. First, I need directions. I’m new in the area and got turned around this morning." I gave the address for my condo.

"Oh! That’s real close. Go out the door and turn left. At the second light, that’s Ming, turn right. Follow Ming for a block and your place will be on the left."

"Thanks! I was also wondering if I could get someone to help with my hair." I said running my fingers through the stiff and curly mass. Inside, my brain was resigned to fate. All I could think of was ‘Here we go again’.

The girl looked over toward one of the stylists who was working on a petite blonde.

"Sharon, can you squeeze… What was your name? Can you squeeze Riki in after Geri? Lois cancelled her two o’clock."

Sharon agreed and told me to have a seat. I sat thumbing through several of the style books on the table. It didn’t take long for me to find several nice styles.

"Those two looks nice in the book but their not very practical." Sharon said from over my shoulder. "Why don’t you come over to my chair and we can talk about your needs and desires. We’ll build a style from that."

I went over to Sharon’s chair and sat. Immediately I began telling her that I wanted to be ready for my big day on Monday. I explained that I was coming out at work and wanted to present a smart, stylish yet professional appearance. We talked about my position in the company. Sharon suggested that we try a darker, richer brown (she said that darker would help convey that professional aura especially at first) and go with a chin length modified shag. I told her that I’d trust her judgment.

While Sharon was off mixing the color my mind went into overdrive. Coming out? When did I ever decide to do that? Hell, yesterday I didn’t even know that I wanted to wear female clothes and now I was coming out? I tried to run but that invisible barrier slammed shut isolating my brain.

Sharon returned and began applying the color. She worked quickly, sectioning my hair with the tip of the brush, applying a generous amount of color, and then defining a new section. I watched with fascination as the reddish paste was applied to my hair. My mind was a silent observer as Sharon and I talked about fashion, the weather, food and the neighborhood. I told Sharon that I was new in the neighborhood and that I’d originally stopped to ask directions home. Sharon was surprised to find that I lived in the same condo complex as she. She asked if I had met anyone there yet. I promised to meet her later that evening by the pool for a little wine and cheese.

Sharon led me to the sink. She washed the color out of my hair with a firm yet gentle touch. The feeling was exquisite. I could have stayed there for hours.

Too soon I was back in the chair. Sharon directed the warm blast from the dryer all over my head while fluffing my hair with her left hand. As soon as my hair was dry (it was a warm reddish brown that Sharon called chestnut) Sharon began sectioning my hair. She clipped the rear and sides out of the way and used her rat-tailed comb to separate a small section of hair at the front. She held the hair while grabbing a piece of foil from the small cart. She held the foil against my scalp and applied a yellow paste to the small group of hairs. Then she folded the foil over the top, turned in the sides and then folded the foil again till it was a small silver packet on my forehead.

"We’re going to add a few complimentary highlights." She said as she began to repeat the process with another section of hairs. Soon, my head was covered in these little silver packets. Sharon placed me under the dryer and set it to bake.

I was warm. It was a relief when Sharon told me I was done. Again, I experienced the wonderful sensation of Sharon’s hands massaging my head. Soon, we were back in the stylist’s chair. Sharon worked quickly. She’d lift a section of hair; hold it between her fingers, then clip at the ends from several angles. She’d repeat the process several times then fluff my hair. Each time, she’d assess the result before attacking a new section. Gradually, a transformation took place as I watched in the mirror. I couldn’t believe that the person in the mirror was really me.

Sharon finished cutting and rubbed some pomade in the palm of her hand. She rubbed her fingers in the pomade, and fluff through my hair, then twist individual unruly strands into compliance. Gosh, I looked great!

"What do you think Riki?"

I think my smile said it all but a small "Wow" did escape my lips.

"Have you thought about make-up for your big day Monday?" Sharon asked. You’ll probably want to stay away from the bright reds with that hair color. Here, let me show you."

Sharon deftly applied powder, blush, lipstick and eye shadow to my face. She was an artist. I left the shop much richer that I was when I entered. I had a new friend, a new look, a bag full of the tools I needed to recreate this look at home, and a goal for Monday.

It didn’t take long for me to get back to the condo where I crashed on the sofa. I was just about to get up for a glass of water when the doorbell rang. I opened the door. I don’t know who was most shocked, Denise or I.

"Rick? Is that you? What have you done to yourself?"

"Denise! Help me! Please come in."

Denise came in and sat on the sofa. I poured two white wines and began to tell the story of my experiences over the past twenty-nine hours. For the most part, Denise listened in silence but she did ask several questions when I described my feeling of helplessness.

"Rick, I understand what you’re saying but, quite honestly, I just can’t buy it. There are no invisible forces that float around and take control of people and force them to do things like this." She said pointing at me. "The only answer that makes sense to me is that this is your inner self emerging and that the image I see before me is a reflection of your true desires."

"No Denise, I never wanted anything like this before today."

"Then you admit that now you want to be a female?"

"That’s not what I’m saying. So much has happened in the last day that I’m confused. I feel trapped into a role I really don’t want and I need your help."

We continued to talk for another five hours. I called Sharon and told her that I couldn’t make it for wine and cheese. We promised to get together another day.

Denise and I ate a light snack for dinner. We, really I talked about my desires and feelings. Denise agreed to spend the night and to help me get through my crisis. It was about ten thirty when Denise suggested that we go to bed. We went into the bedroom and Denise started looking for suitable sleeping attire. As she looked through the feminine clothing in the closets and drawers she asked where my clothes were. I told her that I had not brought any clothes. I explained that I fell asleep the night before and had meant to get some clothes but events of the day just didn’t provide the opportunity.

"Well Riki, you may as well continue your feminine experience." She said placing two short gowns on the bed. "Now, lest wash this make-up off and moisturize so that we can keep these girlish complexions for a long, long time."

Denise showed me how to cleanse my face and apply moisturizer. She went through the dozens of bottles on and under the counter describing the concept behind the product and suggested use strategies. I tried to follow all the instructions but it was clear that I was getting confused. Denise said that we’d continue the discussion in the morning. We donned our gowns and panties. Denise went to the kitchen for a glass of water and I snuggled under the covers.

I must have dozed off. I felt a nudge and woke to see Denise standing over me. She was telling me to take my pills. ‘What pills?’ I thought. Then I saw them. The four little capsules that promised to help me grow larger breasts. Denise saw my concern.

"Riki, you asked me to help didn’t you? I’ve been thinking about this for the past hour. I saw the bottle and though about you taking these pills. I also thought about you with breasts. I admit that most of it is plain curiosity but I kinda like the idea. I think its what you really need as well."

I took the pills and swallowed. Denise turned off the lights and crawled into bed next to me. We touched and explored each other’s bodies, giving as well as receiving pleasure.

I awoke alone. Not only alone, but also tied to the bed. I tried to cry for help but my mouth was filled with cloth and a stocking was tied around my head. I tried to free myself but only managed in hurting my arms in my struggle. Finally, I gave up the fight and just wait.

I don’t know how long I lay in bed but finally heard the sound of the door opening. A short time later Denise entered. She told me she was glad that I was finally awake. She also said she was sorry that I had to be tied up but, I had been bad and would have to be punished. As she spoke, I looked at my girl. It was Denise, but something was different. She seemed to be harsher both in appearance and demeanor.

I missed what she had said but immediately recognized the four capsules that she placed on the nightstand. Today though, there were three additional capsules.

Denise leaned over to remove my gag. She was telling me that she had gotten my prescriptions filled at the pharmacy down the street and that I was naughty for not getting them filled yesterday. As soon as she removed the gag I began to voice my protest.

Whack! Denise had never struck me before. I was shocked into silence.

"OK sissy, let’s get this straight one more time. From now on you don’t talk unless I tell you its ok. Do you understand?"

Whack! Another slap across the face.

"I asked you if you understand?"

"Yes."

Whack. Yes who?

"Yes Mistress."

"That’s better. Now take your girl pills without any more fuss and I’ll give you a treat later."

Denise released my left hand. From the look on her face I knew what was expected. I carefully reached over and picked up a capsule. I swallowed it with a sip of water. The rest of the pills followed in sequence. Denise untied my right hand and told me to get washed up and dressed for the day.

I went into the bath and lathered my body in the shower. It took several attempts before I was satisfied with my make-up. The delicate artistry was not helped by the fact that Denise stood in the doorway tapping her toe the entire time.

When I got back into the bedroom I found clothing laid out for me. Denise had selected a short tee shirt that would leave my belly exposed. She had also selected a pair of shorts that would have a hard time covering my butt. I also found a pair of panties and a bra on the bed.

I didn’t say a word as I dressed but my mind was racing. Was Denise under the spell of the same force that directed my actions yesterday? No, while I was firmly under control, the spirit that directed me seemed kind and loving. Denise, on the other hand was mean.

"Come on sissy! You better get moving or you’ll find yourself over my knee."

I tried to get dressed just as fast as possible. It wasn’t easy. The shorts were way too tight and I was forced to bounce up and down to wriggle into them. I put on my white tennis shoes with their pink trim and followed Denise into the living room.

"Start here." She said. "As soon as you clean and dust this room you can do the kitchen and finish up in the bedroom. I want the sheets changed and the pillows fluffed."

I went to work. I hoped that by humoring Denise she’d be able to escape from the force guiding her. As I cleaned the living room Denise sipped coffee on the sofa. I moved into the kitchen. Several times I had to go back to the sink when Denise placed additional dirty cups and glasses on the counter. Finally, I moved to the bedroom. I stripped the bed and found fresh sheets in the closet. It was eleven thirty when I completed my assigned tasks.

"You’ve done well sissy. Now, go fix my lunch."

I returned to the kitchen and began preparing lunch. I mixed a Greek salad with feta cheese and an oil and vinegar dressing. I prepared two plated and carried them to the table.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing sissy? Who gave you permission to eat at the same table with me?"

Denise grabbed my plate and put it on the floor. Several lettuce leaves fell off the plate.

"Now, get down where you belong!"

I ate silently while on my hands and knees. Denise seemed to relish her new position and sought ways to demonstrate her new power over me. Twice during lunch she ‘dropped’ scraps from the table. Each time I was directed to lap up the mess. I complied.

After lunch we went back to the bedroom. Denise reapplied my make-up choosing a very dramatic effect with heavy eyeliner and shadow and bright red lips. She placed a dog collar around my neck and said, "Lets go." I knew better than to question her at this point and I meekly followed her to the car. She drove. I quickly determined that our destination was my apartment.

When we arrived at the apartment Denise wasted no time. Under her supervision I made gathered all my male clothes from the closets and drawers and placed them into three piles. I knew that I should fight for my rights and dignity but, for some unknown reason, I seemed to lack the courage or desire to state my demands. My mind formulated all kinds of action plans but my body refused to follow through.

I had just barely finished when there was a knock at the door. Denise told the man from Salvation Army that the middle pile was for him. He snickered as he looked at me standing meekly to the side with my sluttish makeup and dog collar. Shortly after he left the rest of my belongings left in two other charity trucks. Denise marched me down to the rental office. They were expecting us as well. I signed the papers terminating my lease. The girl explained that I would forfeit the remainder of this months rent but, because they had leased my apartment immediately ‘as is’, my deposit would be returned. Denise directed the girl to make the check out in her name. The girl looked at me questioningly and I assured her that the check should be made payable to Mistress Denise.

We drove back to the condo in silence. I spent the entire time thinking about my current situation. Clearly, I was at the lowest point in my entire life. I think that this was also the turning point because I decided then and there that I was not going to sink any lower. A voice inside told me to stand up for my rights and regain control of my life. I felt new vitality coursing through my body.

As we entered the condo Denise told me to shower and get dressed for the evening. She said it was time for me to earn my keep ‘turning tricks’.

"No!"

I was a single word, but conveyed so much meaning.

"What did you say you cheap slut?" Denise’s hand arced through the air to deliver a stinging blow to my face. My left hand came up and caught her hand in mid flight. Denise’s face was a mask of pure rage. Her left hand began its flight toward me and was intercepted as well. I managed to deflect her knee as it shot up toward my groin. I roughly shoved her across the room where she tumbled into a chair.

"You heard me! I said no. Being your whore may have been Jamie’s fantasy, but it’s not mine. If I’m going to be a woman, I’ll be my idea of a woman."

"You ungrateful bitch! You owe me!" Denise hissed. "Do you really think your little friend Jamie wanted to be my whore? She had the same dreams as you but, like you, she lacked the balls to follow through."

"Jamie tried to fight but I still took control. Just like I’ll control you1"

"No you won’t."

I don’t know if it was the determination in my voice or the conviction in my eyes that turned the tide. Denise’s eyes briefly glowed with pure hatred. Then, just like an ice sculpture set on a table, the sharp edges dissolved and the girl I loved returned.

"Rick? Are you OK? I don’t know what happened. All day I’ve been a prisoner in my own body. I watched helpless as I degraded you. Can you forgive me?"

"Denise, that wasn’t you. I don’t understand what happened here but it appears that we were victims of a struggle between two spirits. I just wish I had understood all of this in time to save Jamie. He begged me to help him fight his evil mistress and I ignored him. It took his death for me to realize that the fight was real."

We continued to talk till well past midnight. Around one, Denise said that we would have to hurry if we hoped to recover my things. I told her that it wasn’t important because I was going to stay in the condo.

"But Rick, how can you stay here? Look at you! Your hair and face look more like a girl than a guy. Is that what you want? To be a girl?"

There, it was out.

"Denise, I’m not sure what I want right now. To be honest, I’m leaning toward living here as Riki. It’s tough to explain, but I feel that this is what I’m supposed to do and who I’m supposed to be. Remember how I told you that I wondered about Jamie’s legacy and what she left behind. I finally understand that I’m Jamie’s legacy and her spirit is with me as long as I follow through with my current direction. Alone, neither Jamie nor I were strong enough to defeat the evil mistress but together we had the strength and courage to respond and win. Together we also have the strength to become the woman that Jamie, and I want to be"

There, it was out in the open. Denise was silent for a long time. "I think I understand." She said softly. "I also want to remain friends."

Slowly, we began talking again as we moved into the bedroom. That Saturday night marked a transition in our relationship. We made love as man and woman for the last time and as a pair of women for the first.

Sunday was a busy day for me. Early Sunday morning I called Sharon and invited her over for breakfast. Over coffee and fruit plate Sharon, Denise and I discussed my coming out. The three of us went through my wardrobe. We mapped out a strategy for my first week as a female. A conservative suit on Monday, a dress with a jacket on Tuesday, another suit on Wednesday but one designed to be worn as a skirt and blouse. Thursday we argued between a simple skirt and blouse, a pantsuit, or a classic A line dress. Sharon thought that the Skirt and Blouse would show a lighter side on my personality while I wanted the pantsuit. Denise and Sharon argued that I should avoid pants at work for the first month to avoid any possible visible link to my past other than performance. We finally agreed on the A-line dress with a scarf. A similar process was followed as we decided on my accessories and jewelry for the week. Then the girls sat me down for some intense make-up instruction.

By mid-afternoon I was fairly good at applying ‘my face’. Sharon’s cut fell neatly in place with minimal work so my hair was no real problem.

"Riki, you can put off the phone calls any longer." Denise reminded me.

I sat on the bed and dialed my boss, Bob. We spoke for quite a while about my decision. He questioned me for about an hour on the reasons behind my decision. When our conversation turned to the reaction of my co-workers I knew that everything was going to be all right. We talked for another hour about how to handle the change on Monday. I decided that I wanted to address the people in my department directly to avoid as many rumors as possible.

My second call that afternoon was tougher. Sherry was caught completely off guard. Her shock was evident in her silence as I told her about my decision. I told her that I needed her strength and support through this transition and asked her to stay with me. She told me that she would do everything she could for me but could make no long-term commitments. I respected that and told he so.

Looking back, that first week went as well as could be expected. I survived, which is the main thing. Sherry stuck with me for three weeks then asked for a transfer. She confessed that she had always loved me and had fantasized about being Mrs. Nelson someday. We remain friends but rarely see each other.

Sharon, Denise and I are closer today than we were a year ago. We meet for dinner at least once a week and both Denise and I are regulars at Sharon’s Salon. I continued my doctor appointments. The hormones and breast pills only resulted in a ‘36B’ but I’m happy with that because it’s me. I haven’t gone through with the final surgery yet but am getting closer to that decision.

Sharon also introduced me to a friend. Geri is a girl just like me. She in turn introduced me to an entire network of support and friendship.

The people at work soon lost interest in the novelty of my gender change and I was able to focus on work. With Jamie’s help, I was even more focused. Six months ago I accepted a vice-president position with a competitor.

The best part of the last year is that Jamie is still with me. Our two spirits are tightly woven into my personality. I have never looked back since I made my decision that Saturday night. Life constantly moves forward and there’s more than enough challenges facing us each day. I find that it’s best to focus on today and tomorrow and not worry about the past. Besides, my success over the past year is all part of Jamie’s Legacy.

 

 

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© 2001 by Marti B. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.