This is my first story of this nature. I hope you enjoy, and if you do/don’t please feel free to comment because I won't write a second unless you out there enjoy my first.

 

Life After the Crash

by M. Williams

 

"You love me, right?"

"Of course."

"How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"That you love me."

"It’s just a feeling I get. I want to spend forever with you."

"Forever is a long time, Minnie. Are you sure your love can last?"

"You’re scaring me, Walt. What is with all the questions?"

"It’s just that everything is perfect. I’m making a fortune, we have young Julius, you are incredible and I’m extremely happy. When you are so high, it’s easy to come crashing down."

"Honey, I’d still love you!"

***

1929 was the changing point of my life. It was a changing point in many people’s lives. No one could say their life changed in quite the same way as mine. But all of these changes happened because of one single event; the Stock market crash. I was a strapping young man at the time, 20. Just like my late father I had made a small fortune doing nothing but playing the market. And with that fortune came the perks of an amazing wife, Minnie, a two-month-old boy, Julius and pleasant house at Great Neck, Long Island. Life was perfect. I’d spend my days at the office, fooling around with the guys, earn a small fortune, and return home to my adoring wife and child.

"Honey, I’m home," I’d say, long before it became a cliche. She’d come to greet me in the hall and kiss me. We’d talk about our day as we ate dinner and then I’d pamper Julius before his bedtime, and then spend an intimate moment with Minnie. That was my routine and I swear I would have never tired of it. But the crash did just that, crash. It crashed into my life and destroyed everything in its range. One morning I left the house a wealthy man and the night returned stone broke. Every cent I earned was inside the market as it took a massive dive. Thousands became hundreds, then just dollars, then cents. Some of my friends didn’t make it home that night, as they jumped from their office windows during the day.

***

"Oh thank god you’re home! I was so worried about you."

". . . . I’m so . . . sorry!"

"Walt! Everything will be fine, you have to get right back on the horse and all will be fine!"

"There is no horse! There is no fucking horse!"

"Don’t yell at me!"

"I’M NOT yelling!"

"You are!"

"Minnie, stop your crying! STOP CRYING! Minnie, Minnie, Minnie! What are we going to do? What am I going to do? What about Julius? I wanted him to have all the best things in life. Now, it’s ruined! All ruined!"

"Not it’s not! You can start again!"

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because you can."

"No, I can’t. Do you have any idea how much money we lost?"

"No, I. . ."

"EVERYTHING! Every last CENT! Once the house and the car and all your jewellery is gone we still owe the bank thirty thousand"

"Walt?"

". . .What is it?"

"I still love you."

***

Well, we all squeezed into her mother’s tiny apartment on 96^th Street because the bank took back the house. I tried to get work anywhere, but knowing nothing but the Stock Market (and not trusting that ever again) I found it impossible to support my family. Scouring the paper every morning and finding some other schmo had beaten me to it plunged me further and further into the depths of depression. Instead of the fruitless job hunting I started frequenting tawdry speak-easys. And there I sat, day after day. Red eyed, unshaven, unkempt hair, drunk, a shell of my former self. I’d burst into the apartment, early in the morning, avoid the accusing glances of my family, and return to the bar to reassume the comforting numbness. My objective for the passing days was to try and escape the feelings of failure that broiled my soul. Seeing Minnie sickly thin and pale and little Julius crying only amplified the failure ten fold.

***

"Walt, you’ve got to stop doing this."

"Who am I hurting?"

"Everyone! Especially you!"

"Well, maybe it’s what I deserve . . ."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"It’s true."

"You have to get a job, or at least look after Julius. I can’t keep on doing both, I’m wearing myself thin."

"I will, I will, I promise!"

"I don’t know how much a promise from Walter Ryskind is worth any more."

"What was that?"

"I said that I didn’t know how much a promise from you is worth."

"Lots"

"Lots? Prove it, Walter! You’re skating on thin ice! You’re not the man I married. I’d much rather spend my days with him, and if you’re not willing to help me find him, I don’t think I can love you any more. Now go to bed it’s almost 3 in the morning!"

"But, I still love you!"

***

I was so drunk that through the hours of sleep, I forgot that conversation ever happened. Nothing changed, we still were poor. Minnie still was over worked and under loved and I continued my spiral of despair. I seriously wanted to clamber out of that rut, sometimes. I tried to get jobs, but turning up dishevelled and drunk didn’t help matters much. Days of determination turned into weeks of despair and months of arguments. The bars became my home, and I visited my wife when I was broke, or too depressed to go on. The only thing that kept me alive was the love for Minnie.

One glum night at the bar an unfamiliar man walked through the door. That in it self wasn’t worth noting, people I’d seen every day in my drunken haze still remained unfamiliar. But this man seemed to command my attention. Although bordering six feet tall he seemed impish, like an elf just finished mending shoes for a shoemaker. His shirt, a bright red, was a stark contrast to the dank grey of the world surrounding him. Although quite obviously a man he carried himself with the grace of a woman. But with this grace there seemed to be a huge sense of uncomfortable tension, as though he was ashamed with himself. An odd mixture of confidence and immense contempt was bundled in human form before. I rarely looked up from the bar when someone entered, so it surprised me that I studied his every move so delicately. Much to my horror and curiosity he sat on the stool directly next to me. I tried to look directly forward to avoid making eye contact, and my plan was working well until. . . .

He asked me for a light with a voice as rough as gravel, I was half expecting a sultry woman’s voice but was glad that it wasn’t. Silently I struck a match and lit his cigarette and observed his drawback before returning to my mission of staring directly ahead. The same gravelly voice told me I looked down on my luck. I held my ground, not flinching and staring ahead. He told me again. Right as I was trying my hardest to ignore this man, something snapped, and slowly turned to him and told my sordid story, much like I’m telling you now. He carefully nodded at the right spots and listened intently. I wasn’t in control of this story but it felt good to release everything inside me. I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain I started to cry. I told him of my son, my wife, the $30,000 I owed, and of my drinking. Finally, after what seems I said everything that could be said I collapsed on he’s shoulder crying selfish tears. And where you thought he would comfort me, he didn’t. Not a hug, pat on the back, or ‘there, there.’ I sat crying and he looked directly on, with, if my eyes weren’t blinded with tears, a sly grin on his face. An offer of money came up. A lot of money. $5,000 for me immediately if I leave with him now. And the promise of a lot more to come. No man in a bar should be trusted, ever, but this curiosity seemed to beckon my trust as much as he beckoned my attention. $5,000 was a lot of money. With that kind of money Minnie, Julius and I could start to make a new life. I asked about the catch. He said that I could never see my family again.

***

"Mm.. hmmph.."

"Sorry honey, I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Hmmph, that’s OK. Julius’ teeth are coming in, so I haven’t been asleep that long. What are you doing with that suitcase?"

"Nothing."

"Sure you are! Walter tell me what you are up to!"

"I can’t."

"Walt!"

"Here’s five thousand bucks, Minne! And I’m going to send more money, I promise!"

"Where are you going?!?"

"I’m not sure. But I’m going to become a man!"

"Walter! Come back! I still love you!"

***

And like that I had left Minnie’s life.

I met the strange man at the train station, where he instructed to meet him. He pulled up in a car, the exact same make as I used to own, and I climbed in. "I’m very glad you came, Walter," he said in a voice too eager with a smile too wide.

"Well, I love my wife," I said not very steadily. He glanced at me top to bottom and then bottom to top, stopping now and then as if checking things off the list. He stepped out of the car and calmly walked around me. "You wont need that," he said, pointing at my suitcase. I didn’t know what to do, and as a result just stared at my belongings. With a quick movement he had flung my case straight onto the train tracks. Before I could even react the mysterious man had jumped into his car, horn roaring for me to join him. I did. He brought out a blindfold, and asked me to put it on. I did what he did without questioning, although a little hesitantly. "Secrecy is very important to me," he explained, "Can you promise me that the things we talk about now will remain between us?"

"I’ll take it to my grave," I claimed, figuring I’d be there much quicker than I originally thought. Silence once again overcame the car as we drove on. I felt more alone than ever in my life. The family I had created, nurtured and finally neglected were now a thing of the past. I did not know what my new life consisted of now. But as long as the money was plentiful, I would do almost anything. I just hoped the stranger’s plan didn’t fall into the ‘almost’ category.

The Stranger must have sensed my anxiousness because he resumed talking in a soothing tone. "For many years I have known I was wrong. My body and my mind did not meld as most people’s do. To you I look male, yes?" The ‘yes’ was so stern that I agreed quickly and clearly. "Well, my mind is of a female. I have female thoughts, female desires and female needs." At this point I was glad the blindfold hid the look of contempt I held for The Stranger. "I knew that the Lord had made a mistake with me so I have studied and prayed all day, everyday to find a way to correct this mistake. Years upon years I have dedicated to my pursuit and now I have come incredibly close. With this concoction I have designed I can change the gender of any animal. Rats, horses, dogs all in a matter of moments have became female. But I have not tried a human. I have chosen you, Walter, as my subject. Before you say anything I must tell you that upon completion of this experiment payment of $40,000 will be made to you." Now, that was a lot to take in and I sat there mouth agape for several minutes. The car, draped in silence, journeyed on into the night, it seemed the entire world awaited my response. "Is there any chance of becoming male again?"

"I suppose." Was The Stranger’s cold response, not a great assurance.

"But?"

"But, I won’t be supplying it. It took me 30 years to figure out male to female. A long, long time. And to tell the truth I’m quite a selfish person and don’t plan to spend a second of my life figuring out on how return back to male," The Stranger reported the horrible facts as easily as discussing the weather. My blood raced, with $40,000 my beloved family could comfortable again. Minnie would be able move out of her mother’s house and move on in life, maybe fall in love again. Julius would again have all the comforts he deserved. I could again provide for my family, again be able to hang my head high. A female head, but high all the same. "You have a deal."

After I had lost all track of time the car stopped. I was tempted to tear off my blindfold and tear off into the night if it wasn’t for the fear racing down my spine. "Don’t take your blindfold off yet," The Stranger requested. He offered a long hairy arm to hold as he led me into an unknown building in an unknown part of town. I counted about 6 times we stood stationary and heard the familiar jangle of keys, so the place was under a few locks and keys. Just before terror had broiled my vitals, The Stranger announced that we were there. I reached for the blindfold and a clammy hand grasped at my wrist, "Not yet," he commanded. He led me to a chair where I sat patiently awaited an uncertain doom.

"Here, hold this," The Stranger’s voice ordered and a thin tube was placed into my clutch. "In that vile is my life’s work, and hopefully my saviour. Upon drinking this your body should," he paused indecisively around the word ‘should.’ "Your body should take on a female form. From what I can gather it is only mildly painful, and only takes 30 seconds on creature the size of humans. The female form will be completely female and undistinguishable from a natural born female. At the completion of the transformation you will be awarded your fee and returned to the train station and our relationship will end. You must not encounter any of your previous life’s relationships." My head races with a million thoughts. A million thoughts all about the same thing, my beloved Minnie. Memories, worries, desires and fears all about my darling wife. The Stranger continued in a draconian tone, "In the result of your death, the payment be null and void."

"What?!?" Tears of anger and worry soaked the blindfold and beaded down my cheeks. If it was possible to hear a pang of humane nature, I did, "In the result of your death, full payment will be made to your spouse."

The air cleared of some tension as The Stranger made his final command, "You may now proceed to drink and be welcomed into the world of femininity." My hand, with a mind of its own, gravitated towards my mouth. The potion was downed in a gulp, bypassing all my senses. And then, nothing. Seconds passed. I could feel The Stranger’s eyes burning into my body impatiently waiting for something to happen, anything.

Waiting.

Waiting..

Then nothing. Literally nothing. The sounds around were silenced. The dim light poking through the blindfold vanished. All feelings, smells, everything around me disappeared, I didn’t even noticed as my head went crashing toward the floor.

I awoke to the sound of a cackle. It was no laugh, it was a cackle. A demonic, crazed cackle. Groggily, I opened my eyes and saw The Stranger looking over me with a smile that threatened to rip his face apart, a smile that told me many things. Without even moving my hands to explore or confirm, the smile told me I was now female. The smile said to me that Minnie and Julius were now safe and secure, and that I could never see them again. The thought of a happy wife brought on a smile of my own. The Stranger now aware of the other person in the room said, "I see you’re awake! Good news, it worked, Walter, if I can still call you that!" He jolted upright, clapped like an excited child and performed a dance of exuberant joy. "Where are my manners?" The Stranger cried, "You don’t realise the thing of beauty you’ve become, do you?" His jittering hands handed me a delicate hand mirror and a long slender hand clasped at it. I sat up. Bringing the mirror to the foreign face cause a feminine gasp from my pouty lips. Gone were my strong grey eyes, replaced were large, soft green eyes. My nose had become tiny and upturned. Soft freckles sprinkled my elegant face. My hair, the same boyish length and cut was now a soft red. If my hair was longer I would have been a shoe in for an adorable farmer’s daughter, or Irish beauty.

I ventured a stare downwards. My shirt was stretched in places that it hadn’t before, a sure sign of breasts. Two full, smooth and quite large mounds of femininity threatened to burst through the confines of their cotton barricades. They begged, no, demanded to be touched, so my hands gave in. They felt as soft as they looked, with a certain firmness. My hands moved south, over my flat, hairless stomach to my new opening. Fear took back my hand and I realised that some one was watching me. My head shot up expecting to see the prying eyes of The Stranger. But I was wrong. I was alone. I decided to try out my new voice, "Sir?" I called out on a trembling soprano. I stood up to search further when I stumbled over my trouser leg. A good guess would be that I was at least a few inches shorter than my original six-foot frame. The Stranger came strolling through a door with two suitcases. "$40,000 and a some appropriate clothes," he said handing the heavy cases to me. Then, from his pocket he produced the blindfold.

After what seemed a thousand questions about how everything felt the car stopped, let me out and I was once more alone. There was time to worry about my current position right after I solved what trouble I have caused. Dressed in a man’s suit, hat and shoes too many sizes too big for me I clumsily traipsed the few blocks to my former apartment. It was in the part of the night too late for the night dwellers and too early for the morning dwellers so the amusing sight of a frustrated tiny womanly figure flopping around in a gentleman’s clothing was seen by limited few. Of those who did see me, I did my best to seem normal and male. But my cursed bosom, that swayed uncomfortably as I marched, made my appearance unmistakably female. I quickly clambered the stairs to my former abode and making my movements as small and hushed as humanly possible, I entered.

Shrouded in darkness I left the suitcase full of money (minus a meagre $500 for myself) in the empty lounge and turned to leave. Again, I was to leave for the last time, but not as a failing, neglecting husband but as a seemingly innocent, beautiful young woman, awkwardly dressed, but beautiful just the same. I had planned on not spending more than one second longer in there but being so close to my loved ones brought on a sense of longing so strong I forgot about all my dangers. I crept up to my former bedroom and peeked in, a lonely fragile woman slept restlessly. I just wanted to cradle her in my strong manly arms, which I realised was no longer possible. The money would certainly help her, but she would never realise how much I love her. In a moment of inspiration I opened the desk draw and seized a pen and pad and began to compose a note to my darling wife. ‘Dearest Minnie’ I wrote before I recognised the handwriting wasn’t my own. My usual flowing writing had been replaced with a barely legible scribble. Undeterred I pressed on.

***

Dearest Minnie and Julius,

Your husband loves you very much, he wanted you to have this. Inside this case is just under forty thousand dollars. Please pay off all his debts and you shall be free of threatening bank managers forever. He is safe but is unable to ever see you again. This hurts him more than you could possibly imagine. All he wants in life is to see you safe and happy. It tears him to shreds that he can not see you or Julius grow up. He wants you not to grieve for him, to live life with the smile you always did. He wants you not to shun love from other men.

Walter loves you both very much.

Your sincerely,

A friend

PS. He still loves you

***

I was now alone. With the sun beginning to rise and the city ready to emerge from the covers of night I was about to start my first day in this body. Ditching my shoes in a nearby bin, I continued on my way. Aimlessly, I wandered through the streets, ignoring every bemused stare and confused look. In a day my slate was wiped completely clear, I had a brand new life. A life I had no plans on starting. Although the public saw me as female, I was male. Male thoughts surrounded my feminine head, male mannerisms plagued my every movement and male clothes covered my very womanly body. I was male. A male in a female shell, a facade. I began to realise the anguish The Stranger must have felt.

That day was spent on trying to find any trace of The Stranger or his laboratory. And as the morning sun continued its journey to noon and eventually dusk my hopes become more and more dwindled. "Fire ravages Science lab! Read all about it!" came rolling through the city noise to snap me back to reality. A young boy shook his stack of newspapers and continued to rattle on about other stories within the paper. I approached the boy, in a trance like state and requested a paper, in a voice that was still strange to me. Blazed across the front of the evening paper was an unfamiliar science laboratory in the heart of New York engulfed in flames. ‘Scientist lost in fires, presumedly dead’ read one of the headlines with a familiar face beside it. The paper said that The Stranger, the building and his unprecedented biology research were all lost to the fire. But I knew otherwise. Sure, all three of those things were gone, but I knew The Stranger was now a much happier female.

Something within me finally snapped, not one tear had passed my eyes since my transformation until then. But I succumbed to everything I was feeling and a torrent of weeping began. I simply lowered my hat over my eyes and continued into the night. My feet hurt. Really hurt. I desperately needed sleep and a place to do it. I soon found a place that would suit my needs but as the rich Walter Ryskind I wouldn’t even look at it. It was a failing old hotel, home to run-down travelling salesmen, working girls and lousy vaudeville actors. The walls outside were as crumbly as the spirits inside. The neon lights buzzed with the energy of a hundred bees. I mustered as much confidence as it took and strode my best male stride inside.

"Do you need any help?" came a surly voice from behind the counter. I paused, cleared my throat and said, "I’d like a room please." My attempt to sound like a regular guy definitely sounded like a girl trying to sound like a man. The woman looked at me up and down, and swallowed all of her sarcasm. "How many nights?" she asked nonchalantly.

"As many as $200 can get me please."

"How does four months sound?"

"That would be great, ma’m," I said quietly still trying to keep the male facade up. She ignored me and handed a set of keys over.

I slowly plodded up the stairs and let myself into the room. It was dirty, cold but it was void of any other human presence, therefore it was paradise. I flaked down on the bed and sobbed selfish tears. My comely eyes red and puffy with tears, droplets rolled down my soft cheeks. To anyone viewing the situation, it would appear this girl was just having a hard day, not that a man’s life had just been ruined. I lay there crying all night, too tired for sleep. But as the sun peered through the cracks in the New York skyline, I lulled myself into an exhaustive sleep.

I awoke soon after with a familiar feeling in an unusual spot. I needed to pee. The feeling had been in the back of my head of several hours but other thoughts seemed a bit more pressing. But it was by far the most pressing feeling of the moment. I considered my choices; I could continue lying and go right here on the bed, or I could walk down the hall into the toilets, which are no doubt full over people ready to start the day and relieve myself there. It was a long struggle but logic finally won. I staggered to my feet and walked down the hall. I was right, the hall was packed with people embarking on their morning duties. I averted all disconcerting looks and pushed on my way. I reached the end of the hall and encountered something that some people in my position might consider a predicament. Not me. I bypassed the women’s toilet in favour of my old gender. A row of men and men’s appendages stood expelling their waste. I looked on with envy as I leaped into a cubicle. "You lost, little lady?" called a voice but I ignored it.

I closed my eyes as I undid my pants and sat down. I pushed gently and my bladder emptied itself. Embarrassment was the only emotion left when the pressure from my bladder departed. I stood up zipped up my pants and opened the cubicle door. I row of nakedness underneath the showers confronted me as I stepped out of the toilet. Penises of varying size swinging about with the owner’s movements. I swallowed hard and ran from the bathroom.

I slept most that day, and the next. Only leaving at the middle of the night for the toilet. I existed only to exist. I simply didn’t want to accept that I was now trapped inside a female body. I would have been completely content to lay lifeless on the bed, if it wasn’t for the open window. And the bakery across the road. And the smell of freshly baked bread. Hunger awoke my dulled mind. My stomach longed for food, so it took over my body, sat it upright, stood it up and walked it to the lobby. Saliva welled in my mouth as I shuffled to the door. The jiggling from my bosom jolted me out of my trance and back into reality. I wasn’t set up for another embarrassing gender confusion and I wasn’t about to embrace my femininity. But as it sometimes happens, inspiration hit. "Do you have a first aid kit?" I pleaded to the clerk, not hiding my effeminate voice in the slightest. The stern lady handed the small box over to me and I sprinted to back to my room.

Bandages.

As soon as I spilled the contents on to my bed I saw them, bandages, my saviour. I quickly unbuttoned my shirt and… There they were. I hadn’t actually seen my naked breasts before, only the way they affected my shirt. But there they were, soft, full and definitely feminine. My eyes focussed on milky white flesh I’d never seen before and the conical, puffy nipples that adorned the major swell. My hands were poised to caress and cup them, as curiosity fought with disgust. Disgust won and my hands retreated. I did not like the fact I had a full bust. They jutted out and told everyone exactly what gender I was. ‘But not for much longer,’ I thought as I began to encase them tightly within the bandages. My breasts hurt and begged to be released as I squashed them against my rib cage. I fastened the bandage and put my shirt back on. According to the mirror, the obvious bulge was greatly reduced. My behind still ballooned outwards and my hips still appeared child-bearing but without the swell of my breasts I decided I looked a little more male.

I strode into the bakery with newfound confidence. In the same baggy suit, pants and oversized hat that people thought odd, but without a pair of jiggling boobs, I felt as male as I could. "Good morning," said a chirpy man behind the counter. I nodded in response. "What would you like?" he asked. My eyes darted around, taking in, evaluating and moving on, until my eyes rested on a delicious apple pie.

***

"Mmmmm, that smells better than anything you’ve made before!!"

"You say that about everything!"

"But it’s true! Something about your apple pies, Minnie. Why do they taste so good?"

"The special ingredient is dog!!!"

"Mmmmm…. Well I still love ‘em!"

***

I silently gestured at the pie. "You want the whole pie?" the man asked. I nodded eagerly. It was almost like I was the crazy, silent Marx brother I had saw on Broadway a few months ago, Harpy or something. I handed over the money and he handed over the pie. I thought our exchange was over but as I left the store he called over his shoulder, "Thanks, sir!"

Sir.

He called me ‘sir.’ It felt liberating to be referred to as my old gender. The dainty smile spread across my face told everyone how happy I was, over a simple three-letter word. Sir. Since that baker assumed I was a man, I didn’t ashamedly run back to the sanctuary of the room. Instead I greedily ate the pie on the sidewalk. Bite after bite, hastily, hurried and hungrily. Once the pie was no more than a memory and a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach I returned to my room, to cry, sleep and think of Minnie.

Being abashed of my body I hid it always from my view. My baggy suit never left my body, and I closed my eyes anytime I was near a toilet. But leaving a suit on non-stop for almost an entire week poses I problem. I began to stink, and get dirty. As much as I hated to think about it, I needed a shower.

It was two in the morning when I entered the lady’s shower room. It was completely empty as I began to disrobe. I unbuttoned my shirt, undid the bandages and released my breasts. I loosened my belt took down my pants and Y-fronts, and I was naked. From the first time since my transformation I was completely uncovered. I was exposed, vulnerable and female. I withheld the urge to look down, my eyes already welled with tears. I turned the taps and streams of freezing water rained on me. I don’t know what came over me but a girlish scream escaped my lips. I adjusted the temperature and resumed my position underneath the shower.

I had always loved my showers. As a man there was nothing more relaxing than a long shower after work, I’d often enjoy one with Minnie. The warm cascading water calmed me to no end. If I paid more attention to my feelings now, the shower would have been quite sensual. But my mind was numb. My long slender legs were no longer remnants of my former masculine limbs. The only thing that stopped them from being unstoppably gorgeous was hair. Sparse hairs all over my legs. Not even close to being as hirsute as they once were, but definitely not feminine. I adored those hairs. But the small patch of curly red hair between my legs I hated. It led to the pinnacle of femininity. That moist slit was the bane of my existence. My vagina.

I brushed my hand against my unexplored territory and a warm shiver took a hold of my body. It was a nice feeling, but not one I was ready to experiment with yet. I rubbed soap all over my body, cleansing myself. In my mind I imagined that all my dirty female parts were coming off just by cleaning. Breasts melted into a chest, my bottom no longer swollen and under the lather a penis emerged. I pressed my thighs together only to feel an uneasy vacancy. I turned off the water and stepped into coldness of the bathroom. In response my nipples became hard. It was another odd feeling in a long line of odd feelings and I wanted them to stop. I cautiously kneaded my left bosom with my warm hands and my nipple receded. So I repeated the process on the right. A warm feeling spread to my body as I caressed my bust. The stiffness in my nipple disappeared but I didn’t notice and kept rubbing. A moan had to escape my lips before I regained control of my body. I promptly dried myself and returned to bed, feeling disgust with my loss of control.

The next morning I felt a strong pang of pain in my stomach as I lay in bed and an uncertain stickiness in my underpants. Even before I brought my hand back from exploration I knew what it was. I had shed the lining of my womb, along with one of my eggs. It was my first period. A wave of anger hit me. Biting my lip angrily, I began to cry. Any foolish hope I had of being male was washed away like my womb lining. My bed became a fort of tears for the next few days.

The ensuing weeks followed pretty much a disordered pattern. I’d wake up, think about Minnie, cry, bandage my swell, go to the bakery, eat, return back to my room, and wait until the early hours of the morning so that I could shower. One time I bought a suit and shoes that fit a lot better and occasionally, when I summoned enough confidence, I’d buy a newspaper from a man who would eye me suspiciously. The newspapers kept me from descending into insanity, but mostly I sat and thought of Minnie.

The baker was still calling me sir, so I kept visiting the bakery. I needed that ‘sir’ fix as much as I needed the food. As long as I was bandaged up I felt a shot of manly confidence. I could almost feel my old penis pressing up against my thigh as I marched out of bakery. But my evening shower would confirm otherwise. One unremarkable day, three months since my transformation I entered the bakery just before closing, silently made my choice, paid my money, and heard a ‘Thank you sir’ over my shoulder. Something snapped. The baker hadn’t realised in months that I was wearing a female body. I thought I must have looked very convincing. I needed alcohol. Alcohol, my good friend before my change, had not passed through these pouting lips. So without a second thought I wandered down the street in search of a bar.

The smell of cigar smoke, strong cologne, and spilt whisky swept over me as I stepped into an unknown bar. People didn’t look up and that suited me. I took my place at the bar and ordered a drink. Alcohol used to sooth the pain, but after my first drink it seemed that pleasant drink reaction wasn’t going to happen. In fact the whole bar seemed depressing and painful.

I was contemplating to try another drink or to leave when I felt a hand land my shoulder and the hot heavy breath of someone behind me. "What are you supposed to be, buddy?" a booming and slurred voice said. I sat silent and motionless. The voice repeated its question as the hand gripped tighter. The eerie silence kept its hold as I stood my ground. The hand enclosed on my shoulder blade with enough pressure that broke my vow of silence as I let out a yelp of pain. The yelp was the most vulnerable and scared yelp that had been heard since the dawn of time. No man could have made that yelp. "Let me have a look at you, pal," the voice with the hot breath demanded. I turned around to face the voice and stared right into a huge, muscle bound chest. When I craned up neck up a thick black beard blocked my view of his face but I could see two red eyes glaring down on me. "You’d be a real fine doll, if you didn’t hide it under that suit!" he said while licking his lips. The time for silence was over, if I was going to avoid being this beast’s prey I was going to have to talk my way out of it.

"I’m sorry but I am a man," I said in my loudest whisper. Alone in my room I discovered the closest I sounded like a man was when I whispered. "Sorry, I didn’t hear that?" was the reply.

"I am a man," I said with voice barely above a whisper. The creature looked at me up and down with ill-disguised lust behind his eyes. He grabbed my hat and tugged it off, a wave of shoulder length wavy red hair came crashing down. I hadn’t had it cut, because I hadn’t had the confidence to visit a barber. "You’re guy, are you?" he didn’t give me time to answer, "You don’t look like a guy."

"I am," I whimpered.

"You don’t sound like a guy." His sweaty, meaty hand cupped my groin and gently squeezed. "And you certainly don’t feel like a guy!" he slurred, droplets of spit landing in my flowing, yet scraggily red hair. He bent over and met me eye to eye, stunning emerald green to drunken bloodshot. It was now his turn to whisper, "I wonder how you taste?" I stood stoically, my face streaked with tears. "Oh, the big man is crying, is he?" Gathering all my confidence, I said in a firm voice, "Leave me alone!" In such a situation, it was obvious that he wasn’t about to leave me alone, but with all power within my body I pushed him. The man, unstable with drink came crashing down.

My animal instincts shone through and I ran. Reaching the door of the bar, a familiar hand came crashing down on me. "I’ll leave you alone, as soon as I find out what you are!" I went to run but he grabbed me and with a force like a shotgun tore my shirt open, exposing the bandages. The next forceful hand movement came down, tearing the cotton bandage, freeing my full bust. "Ooooh," he purred, "You’re a big girl!" Yes I was a girl. A beautiful, delicate girl. I was pretending to be male. Under the suit and bandages was a girl (and under that was a man.). So I screamed, a deafening scream. My female form became a flurry of kicks and struggles. One of my kicks landed mightily on his groin, making him release his grip and double over in pain. My legs carried me as fast as they could be flung. My bare chest bounced chaotically. I don’t know whether people saw me, I’m sure they did, but I didn’t care. For the first time I wasn’t ashamed if people saw me as female, I was far too consumed with fear.

I found myself finally in the safety of my room. Crying, wheezing, and barely in control of my thoughts I began tearing off my clothes. My torn shirt, pants, underwear and my hat were violently hurled in the corner. I stood there naked, in my female glory. I began to stare at the mirror. A mane of flowing red hair framed my face perfectly; even red with tears my eyes were spectacular. Ideas of innocence and excitement were conjured up by looking at these eyes. An impossibly cute nose and soft lips finished the face. I once had a hard look, that could be used to scare people if I wanted to. But my face could only inspire feelings of lust and love.

I had seen only a few naked breasts in my time, but none came even close to being as perky. They were the epitome of femininity. As round, firm and inviting as I ever saw. The way my waist came in and my hips came out was almost a caricature of how most women looked. My long slender legs gave me a height Minnie never achieved. But mostly I spent my time staring at a very special area. It is where life is created and where pleasure is received. It is where miracles occur but I had been treating it like it was some sort of infection. It was beautiful. I was beautiful.

I slowly lay on the bed. Smiling to myself. I began the process to remove hard nipples, without having any hard nipples. Gently caressing my breasts felt amazing. My nipples became hard and a dampness was created in my groin. My other hand was sent down there to respond, it too began cautiously rubbing. I again brushed against my clitoris and was sent a warm shiver. I swallowed nervously and inserted a finger into my pussy. Slowly and gently I pushed inside me. I moaned softly and proudly. I kept slowly pleasuring myself as it built up momentum. My heavy breathing made my bust raise and fall quite dramatically. I arched my back as I hit the perfect spot. All fears and worries disappeared in that room that night. There was only a woman enjoying the fruits of womanhood. My first orgasm hit me like a freight train, but was warm and comforting. I didn’t fall asleep crying for the first time since the change.

I awoke a woman. Naked with a mane of fiery red hair splayed across the pillow, I woke with the sun. I was just as radiant as well. The latch opened on a dusty suitcase flung in the corner, untouched since the first day I moved in. It was The Stranger’s gift of suitable clothing that I never seemed to need. It seemed to have everything, underwear, a very nice blouse and skirt, a beautiful sundress, pantyhose, high heels, a pair of normal shoes as well as bedclothes.

Clad in the bedclothes, I headed to the showers. Being 8am, it was bustling with women. Short, chubby European women, long, thin chorus girls and everything in between all clamouring for a toilet, a shower, a mirror, a towel. It may be wrong but I happily listened in on everyone’s conversations about cheating husbands and make up tips. I waited my turn and then enjoyed the satisfying spray of the showerhead. I lathered myself almost passionately, with my eyes open. I took care with my hair and shaved my legs and my armpits. While sponging myself dry, I contemplated my life from now on. It seemed a lot brighter. Today I would search New York for a job for a bright and beautiful woman. Clumsily I clasped my bra on and hefted my bosom inside, it was a snug fit and seemed to give my chest an even perkier appearance. Plus it wasn’t half as constricting or painful as the bandages were. I draped the sundress over me and put on the pantyhose as best I could.

On consultation with the mirror I was stunning. Only one woman I knew could top this level of perfection and the smile from my face faded as I thought of my beloved Minnie. Her birthday was only a week away, a day I spent pampering her to no end, and I was going to miss it. But Minnie would have wanted me to continue my life the best way I could. And embracing my new gender seemed the healthiest way.

Where as the old Walter would wander aimlessly looking for jobs for days on end, the new me succeeded in only a few hours.

***

"And you’ve been a nanny before?"

"Yes, to the Marshall children of Cleveland. Three adorable girls, sir."

"Excellent. Well, you seem excellent for the job. I would love for you to take care of my children, Miss. Banks."

***

Yes, that’s right, Miss. Banks. I hadn’t even thought of a name when I was asked and it must have seemed odd that I stumbled over such a question. But from then on Walter Rsykind was dead and Miss. Adelaide Banks was born. And ten minutes after her birth she was employed as a nanny to prominent Dentist Dr. Heywood Shapiro. I may have lied about previously being a nanny but with over a year of father work I thought I was up to it. And I was. Although in hindsight I may have gotten the job because my exposed cleavage and battering eyelashes. But I loved those two boys as if they were my own.

I worked for Dr. Shapiro for five years, until the boys were sent of to boarding school, and I enjoyed almost everyday. Sometimes Dr. Shapiro would get too flirtatious, or the boys too stubborn or I would get stuck on memories of Minnie and Julius and my eyes would well up with tears. But for most of the time I felt this was my place in the world. Although I was the only female presence in the house I learnt everything about being female. And ever slowly I succumbed to my destiny of becoming heterosexual. Men would enter my dreams and take over my old role. Although still a virgin I occasionally would give into my desires with Dr. Shapiro. We would always only get a little way before either one of the boys or my conscious would arrive.

But after five years I was made useless, although Dr. Shapiro offered me to stay and complete our escapades. I turned him down, and he turned me on to a new job offer, looking after a six-year-old and a new born of a married couple. I had met the husband on a few occasions, when he was visiting. A gorgeous man who would often enter my dreams soon after. He was a very suave doctor who worked at the nearby hospital. Dr. Shapiro and him, Dr. Andrew Wellington were crazy Gilbert and Sullivan fans and would regularly attend the theatre together. Dr. Wellington seemed nice enough so I took him up on that offer and I was sent to a rich area of Manhattan.

I waited nervously in a gloriously luxurious room awaiting my interview with Mrs. Wellington. I was nervous but I needed to move on. She entered. My heart stopped. It was Minnie, as beautiful as the day I married her. She was no longer frail with hunger, my long auburn hair had a bright healthy sheen, her brown eyes sparkling with happiness, a smile of content on her radiant face. A tiny baby within her arms. I wanted to run up and hug her and kiss her but I know she would never believe such an absurd story. I know that sometimes I would lay in bed and wonder if it was true myself, but here she was, Minnie, to confirm my former life. She smiled at me warmly. "Hi there, I’m Minnie and this is little Victoria." I stared down at the little bundle and a toothless grin shone back up at me. "She likes you," Minnie exclaimed.

"And I like her," were my first words to Minnie in five and half years. She looked back up at me, "You come very highly recommended by Dr. Shapiro. He couldn’t stop raving about you." I smiled genuinely as she continued, "So, when could you start?"

I moved my few belongings up to the Wellington residence and began helping Minnie with little Victoria and a strapping six year old Julius. I nearly cried with joy when I first saw Julius, he was playing with a train set. He came up greeted me and returned to playing. He looked just like me, before I obtained my new equipment. I helped Minnie with everything. We were a family again, of sorts. We became very good friends over the first few weeks, so it was now time to begin.

***

"So, how long have you been married to Dr. Wellington?"

"Almost two years now."

"And Julius is six?"

"Yes, he was from my first husband."

"Oh, you were married before?"

"Yes."

"May I asked what happened?"

"He died."

"I’m very sorry to hear that."

"He lost a lot of money on the stock market and killed himself."

"That’s terrible. The crash affected a lot of people."

"I know. I miss him terrible. I still love him."

***

I was not upset that Minnie that ‘killed’ me. In fact it was an accurate description. But at least I knew she still loved me. I didn’t know what to feel, when I lay in my bed of a night time. Should I be upset that she went and fell in love with another man? Should I be overjoyed that she still loves me after all this time? Should I forget that I was ever a man? Never was a person put in such a situation.

We quickly became best friends, as we once were in another lifetime. She asked me why I never married and I replied that I hadn’t fallen in love as yet. Julius grew a close affection towards me and I once again became a parental figure in his life, not a father figure though. Life in the Wellington house was bordering perfect, except for one thing; Dr. Wellington.

I was washing the dishes alone when it first happened. Minnie and the children were visiting her mother on 96^th street. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck and a roaming hand on my bottom, stroking the soft contours of my body. "Oh Adelaide. Stop the washing up I have another MUCH more important job for you to do," cooed the doctor. I stoically stood my ground, "No, sir, I will finish the dishes."

"Forget the dishes! I’ve seen the way you look at me," a second hand clutched at one of my bosoms. "Adelaide, you have nicest tits I’ve ever seen!" he whispered forcefully in my ear. I winced, not even contemplating spending the night with Dr. Wellington. My handed pushed his away from my breast. "Andrew, remember you have a wife!" I stormed off and locked my quarters.

I sat Minnie down on fateful day in November, when the snow had just began to cover New York and it’s inhabitants. After many sleepless night I had decided that I must tell her that her best friend/nanny was actually her missing ex-husband. "Minnie, tell me about your ex-husband," I said spontaneously, as I had practised hundreds of times. She me told me of how we met and my foolish attempts at courting and how I spilt an entire pot of boiling coffee on her father’s lap and, sigh, good times since gone. I asked about the bad times. She told me of the crash, and the drinking and how I left with nothing but a note from a friend and how she looked for me for an entire year and mourned for another one before gaining the confidence to continue on. I asked where she thought he was now, "He must be dead," she said holding back the tears, "Because we loved each other so much, he would have come back." That was all I needed to break into a fit of crying and proceeded to do so. "What’s the matter, Adelaide?" she beckoned.

"I missed you so much!" I confessed, wrapping her in my arms, our breasts pressed up against each other. "What are you talking about?" So I told her about The Stranger and the potion and womanhood and the blindfold and the scrawled handwriting and the money and the hotel and the bakery and the bar and the thug and the nanny job and how much I love her.

"How did you know about the money? I didn’t mention the money," was all she said.

"Because it’s all true," I pleaded, my eyes full of hope.

"So, you’re Walter in that body?"

"Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, Minnie, it’s me."

"Can you prove it?" she asked, with longing in her voice. I knew she wanted to believe me and all I need was to prove it. I summoned all my brainpower I scoured every thought I had ever thought, and then it hit me. "You’re special ingredient in apple pie is dog!" I almost cheered.

"It is you!" Her eyes lit up and she kissed me. It was hard and passionate, tongues intertwined and I lost myself in the moment, I felt 6 years younger and male. I felt an imagined penis stiffen and press against Minnie. Then I realised that two stiff nipples were already pressed up against her. She leant in and lifted my dress over my head. "Walter, you’re gorgeous!" She said. I swallowed hard, pushed a strand of loose hair behind my ear and asked, "Should we be doing this? You are happily married!"

"Walter. . ." she began.

"My name is Adelaide," I corrected her. "Walter never had knockers," I told her pointing at two milky white breasts, "and," I continued, "I remember him having a little more in his underpants." It was obvious in my state of undress that inside my panties were two perfectly formed vaginal lips and not much else. Her dainty hand reached and fondled my chest, "You’re still my Walter in your head, and that’s why I love you!" She led me into the master bedroom. In a mixture of pent up passion, lust, confusion and curiosity we wrapped ourselves around each other. Breast against breast, a magical mix of red and auburn hair. Two shapely women’s bodies twisting and turning in the throws of passion. At the height of our embrace, I remarked, "I wished one of us had a penis right about now," and Minnie slyly chuckled as she slid down my body. "We don’t need one," she huskily replied just before she delved into a pleasure field for me. I never even consider that the physical love between two women could be so well, productive! She gently nuzzled my pussy with her face before she graced me with her tongue. Her technique changed from short and rapid licks to a period of long and ecstasy driven ones. I orgasmed many, many times that night, as did Minnie. We both agreed that not since our honeymoon had sex been that good. We talked all night, Minnie falling asleep in the fold of my cleavage.

"I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go, Walt," Minnie said three days later. I had been fired from my wife and lover. "I love my family and Andrew and my life too much to fall in love with a. . ." I know she wanted to say ‘woman’ but she didn’t. "What we did the other night was wrong. I’m a married woman with children! And you’re a nanny." I didn’t need to defend myself and say that underneath I was her husband because I could tell that she had thought about that. "Look Adelaide, we can’t continue whatever it is we have between each other. I have too much to loose and not enough to gain. This is terribly tough for me, but just leave and never come back." I stretched my arms out for a hug and Minnie plainly shook her head. I said good bye to Julius who cried and Victoria who kept asleep. Dr. Wellington gave me a groping hug shielded from his wife’s view. I took my packed bags and exited the house.

I was alone again.

I reached into my pocket for the bus schedule and took out a piece of paper, scrawled in Minnie’s handwriting, "I still love you."

 

Epilogue

Adelaide moved to Maine where she met and fell in love with a fire fighter named George. There they married and had 3 children. Adelaide still lives in Maine, at the Emerald Hills nursing village. And is happy.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by M.Williams. 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.