Live Long and Prosper              by: Brandy Dewinter            © 2000, All rights reserved

 

Chapter 9 - "Trial Run"

I didn’t sleep well when I went below, despite my impending all-night watch. Lainey’s enthusiasm for what was happening to us was obvious, but I wasn’t sure I shared it. Unfortunately for my state of mind, I wasn’t sure I didn’t share it either. And that surprised me. I’d been comfortable my whole life as a man; marrying a pretty, sophisticated woman, succeeding in a traditionally-masculine career field, even embarking on a ‘manly’ voyage around the world in retirement. I didn’t think I had done (and was still doing) all that to prove anything. It was just ‘comfortable’ for me - something I could do well.

That should have made it obvious what we should do. We should have fought this transformation, committing in our hearts to see it as temporary. I should have refused Elaine’s suggestion that we give ‘it’ a try immediately.

So why wasn’t I tearing my hair out at the prospect of becoming a woman? I made the formal complaints, the expected ones for a ‘real’ man against shaving my legs or wearing panties. But I found my hands caressing my soft, smooth skin, my wonderfully sensitive skin, and enjoying the touch. I knew I liked the feel of satiny panties as soon as I felt them in my hands. I had found myself admiring my own figure in the mirror, several times, and the excuse that I was just checking on the progress of the changes was wearing thin even in my own mind.

It should be bothering me that I was losing my manhood. Instead, it bothered me that my eyebrows looked shaggy! What was wrong with me? Ha! That was the obvious question. But it was a question with so many levels. The physical changes I was experiencing were the less important ones. I didn’t feel like I was being ‘forced’ to accept becoming a woman, mentally I mean, but I did feel like there were more changes in me than the physical. How much of my acceptance, even - I had to admit it to myself at least - my active willingness was a part of some spell?

Or was all that just an excuse to justify the way I felt? ‘Real’ men would never accept becoming a woman. If I did accept it without a magical compulsion, then was I ever a ‘real’ man?

On the other hand, what difference did it make? Now was now. I was female in my genes, and becoming female in my body. If I could sweep away all the baggage that I had picked up in a lifetime as a man in a male-oriented society, would the prospect of being a pretty, young woman seem horrible . . . or enticing?

I fell back on my engineer mentality, which I was pleased to find seemed to be intact, and analyzed the problem in pieces. First, there was the appearance thing. I rolled my thoughts on that around in my mind and decided I did indeed ‘like’ the way I looked, or was beginning to look. Part of that was just being younger, I knew that, but part of it was a pride that I was shapely. My bust was growing every day, and I knew I was going to look way more like a woman than Elaine ever had, and I knew I was proud of that. My face was improving, too, and with a little work, well, it might even keep people from looking at my body. Nah, not really, but I for sure wouldn’t look like I needed a bag over my head. Okay, that much I could accept.

The next step was doing ‘female’ things. Shaving my legs, wearing panties, God help me, wearing makeup! Could I do that? The good news was that at sea, there wouldn’t be any silliness like high heels. The bad news was . . . that I sort of liked the idea. My curiosity was up, and there was this nagging feeling that I should be doing more. Maybe that was connected with my ‘duty’ to please Elaine, to whom I was still committed heart and soul. It was clear that she liked the idea of me doing things to enhance the way I looked, traditionally feminine things.

I guess I was sort of neutral on that. It wouldn’t hurt to do something that might be a bit silly, a bit ‘unmanly’ out there in the middle of the Pacific. No one would know but Elaine. And me. And my curiosity was real, no doubt about it. Especially since everything I could do out here was really part of the appearance thing anyway. Like I said (uh, thought?), no high heels, no pantyhose, no hairspray. I wouldn’t need to get into all those things that were, I don’t know, foolishly feminine. I could put a barrette in my hair to hold it back instead of tying it in a ponytail, but that was pretty minor. If we managed to get transformed back into our real selves, none of the other things would ever matter.

That led me to the last aspect of ‘being’ a woman. And that was one I just wasn’t ready to deal with yet. Hiding from a problem was not my way, but it was just too big a problem to swallow - God, now THAT was poor phrasing! Besides, my body wasn’t ready anyway. I was becoming an ‘innie’, not an ‘outie’, but the space I had was way too small for anything more than a finger. I, um, checked. Not that that mattered, of course, since nothing was going to happen.

I gave up on my attempt at a nap, it was near enough time to go back on deck anyway, and decided I might as well act on all that analysis. I took another shower, this time shaving my legs - very carefully I might add - and slicked my underarms while I was at it. Have you ever put deodorant on freshly-shaved underarms? Enough said.

Then I went back to that white sack. There was a bra in there, a real bra. One that supported and, well, I guess enhanced instead of minimizing like the sports bra. I had seen it when I had gotten the panties, but at the time I had rejected it out of hand. Now, well, now was . . . now, a problem with new aspects. Living with Elaine for almost 40 years kept me from being totally clueless about putting on a bra, and I managed to get it rigged with the aid of only a small part of my seaman’s vocabulary. No doubt about it. I had tits. Pretty ample ones, it appeared, certainly enough to show a distinct cleavage in that confection of satin and lace.

Well, no sense doing things half way. The bra was pink, so I picked out the pink panties, arranging ‘things’ so that there wasn’t much of a bulge (like I had much choice on that any more), and decided the exercise shorts were still clean enough. I was reaching for my t-shirt when I realized that would hide all the cleavage I had decided to enhance. So I went to Elaine’s things and found a shirt, blouse I guess, or maybe this was just a ‘top’, whatever that difference was. Anyway, it was a dark red sleeveless thing that showed plenty of what I now had to display. I couldn’t stop myself from smirking a bit at how much better I filled that top than Lainey ever had.

With that self-satisfied grin still on my lips, I grabbed a brush and headed topside.

"You’ve been busy," Lainey said as I paused at hatch. "Can I take that to mean you’ve made your decision?"

"Partly," I said, sliding next to her on the seat. She put her arms around me and we sat together for a while in silence. Patience is definitely a virtue for a successful marriage. That’s not to say that Lainey’s arms didn’t do a bit of exploring as they held me, but it was subtle, and sort of confirming more than prying. There was enough moon that I knew she had picked up on what I was wearing right off, and that same moon had revealed a bright smile when she did.

Finally, Lainey tapped the hand I still held the brush in and asked, "Did you bring that on deck for a reason?"

I nodded, handing it to her and turning my back. She began brushing my hair, slowly and sensually in the way we had done for each other so often. After a while, that comfort provided a sort of bulwark against which I could discuss some topics that made me uncomfortable.

"So, what do you think we should do in giving all this a try?" I asked.

"It looks like you gave it a pretty good start on your own."

"Yeah, I guess. I didn’t do much sleeping down there. Too much to think about."

Lainey nodded behind me, I could sense it even while turned the other way. She said, "Yeah, me too. So, what did you decide?"

"You first," I said. "You already know most of mine."

She paused for a while, absorbing that statement. Then she resumed brushing my hair and said, "Okay. I can deal with that. Um, suppose we do something like, oh, using names that are more appropriate."

I pulled out of her hands and turned to look at her. "You’re disappointed."

"Nuh, um, well, okay. Maybe a little," she admitted. "But your happiness is what’s most important." "At least to me," she added, putting a finger to my lips to stifle my disagreement. "We can start there at least."

She twirled her finger to get me to let her finish on my hair, and spoke in a bright, cheery voice, "So, have you thought about a new name?"

"Huh? Oh, no, not really."

"Well, you certainly don’t look like an Adam, especially not in that top."

I laughed. Well, I never was very subtle. Anyway, it cut the tension, so I just leaned back against her and said, "You pick."

"Anya," she said without hesitation.

"Ready for that one, were you?"

She shrugged. "Pick something else if you’d like."

"Anya," I repeated softly. Then I surprised myself with the truth, "I like it."

"Now you pick for me," Lainey suggested.

I thought for a while, sort of murmuring, "Adam, Anya, Elaine . . ?"

"Ethan?" I said, asking as much as suggesting.

"Ethan," she repeated. "Okay. I like it, too. It’s not common these days, and Lord knows we are unique."

"Ha! You can say that again."

I felt her braiding my hair into something a little more complex this time, and let that sort of fill the time for a couple of minutes. In some ways, I felt there was something else, something missing in what we had covered. I knew that I’d have to get more specific with my own limitations - saying that the clothes I was wearing were most of what I would do was a preliminary statement only - but I felt there was more, something basic.

Lainey figured it out. Probably she already had, like my new name.

"Um, Anya, how do you think of yourself, and of me?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I was writing in my logbook," she explained, "I realized I was referring to you as ‘she’. As in, ‘I’ll have to talk to Adam when she comes on deck.’ That’s part of why I decided a different name would be a good idea. But more importantly, it tells me that you really have become a woman in my mind." She smiled and leaned forward to whisper in my ear, "A very shapely one, I’m pleased to say."

I seized on that last part of what she had said, realizing it was important to me. "Are you? Pleased, I mean? I was, well, not sure."

"Yes, my love," she said, quietly, but firmly. "I love the way you look. But get back to my question. How do you think of yourself, and of me?"

"How do you think of yourself?" I asked, stalling.

Lainey, Ethan now I suppose, sat back and said, "You know, I’ve been so caught up in realizing I thought of you as a woman, that I hadn’t considered how I think of myself. Ha! Fair question. Let’s see."

Ethan paused for a long moment, then said, "I guess I see myself as a man now."

I turned around to look as she, no, he snickered and said, "I think that started when I was able to stand up to pee."

Oh. I hadn’t been able to do that since we reached Taiohae, about the time my voice quit cracking and stayed higher. Did that mean I should consider myself to be a woman?

"Anya?" Ethan prodded gently.

"Um, well, until you brought this up, I guess I thought of you as my Lainey, just like always. As a woman, I mean. It was like you were wearing that appearance, not ‘being’ it, if you know what I mean. As though at any minute you might take it off and be my Lainey again because that’s who you ‘really’ were, or are, or whatever. Does that make sense?"

"Do you still feel that way?" She asked, not answering my question.

"I’m not sure," I admitted. "The name thing is surprisingly important in that. If I think of you as Elaine, or Lainey, you are a woman. But as Ethan, you are a man."

"Well, the ancients always said names had great power. I think I have become more visually oriented, so the way you look sort of dominated things for me."

"Really? And does that mean I have become less visually oriented?"

Ethan shrugged. "I suppose you’re the only one who can really decide that."

I leaned back against the seat cushions, thinking of what Ethan, of what ‘he’ had said. In some ways, it made it harder to decide how I felt.

"Ethan," I said, listening to the sound of that new name in my new voice. "Kiss me."

I wonder if I’d have hesitated at that request, back when I was Adam. Lainey was always more comfortable with the touchy-feely stuff than I was anyway. But, Lai . . , um, Ethan didn’t hesitate a bit. The next thing I knew I was in his arms and he was demonstrating what quickly seemed to be the best of both worlds, passionate, powerful, yet tender. Damn, I wish I had known how to kiss like that. Now, though, all I had to do was appreciate it.

My body sure did. I felt my sensitive nipples pop up HARD, and I was both pleased and tortured by the satin of that bra as it rubbed oh so gently across them. I felt a little moisture in a more intimate place as well, but I couldn’t tell what it was from. I had sort of ‘tucked’ what little was left of myself back between my legs, but my recent examinations had discovered the possibility of another source for moisture. Or maybe that was the absence of something, leaving a space that was empty.

Why was I so aware of that emptiness right then?

Before I could figure it out, Ethan leaned back and grinned at me.

"Glad to be of service, ma’am."

He leaned forward again, but this time I put my hand on his chest. "I’m sorry, Ethan, but this is, um, there are too many things to think about right now. I need some time."

He looked like, well, he looked so sad. It broke my heart, but I was still too confused by everything that was going on. I was afraid I would regret things if I didn’t understand what was happening better.

After a minute, he grinned ruefully and said, "Yes, ma’am. I suppose if I can’t accept it when a girl says, ‘no’, then no one could. However, I think it’s about time for me to go take a cold shower. Will you be alright alone?"

"Yes, love, and thank you," I said, reaching for the vest and lifeline.

As he reached the hatch, though, I called out to him, "Ethan? If it helps any, I definitely think of you as a man now. And at least for a while there, you definitely made me feel, well, let’s just say I’ll be glad to answer to Anya for the time being."

He smiled again, which I was really happy to see, and then went below.

It should have been a long night after that. I hadn’t slept very well, and eight hours in the dark just monitoring the autopilot could be a killer even when I was well rested. Not that night, though. The thoughts that had been churning in my mind when I was trying to nap had not been abated at all by what had happened on deck.

As if I knew what had really happened on deck.

I had asked Ethan to kiss me. No big deal, right? After all, regardless of what he might look like on the outside, inside that was still my spouse, and we had kissed many times before. Kissing is not really a sexual thing with direct stimulation of reproductive ‘bits’, so I thought it would be a solid anchor to build on as we decided what and who we were.

There should have been two possible outcomes. The good news one, the one I really expected, was that despite the exterior, the kiss would show my Lainey on the inside and it would be like it had always been. I’ve never had nor wanted the expertise to decide if all women could be identified by the way they kiss. I just felt I could tell Lainey’s kiss, and that’s all I needed.

The bad news option was that it would really be like kissing a man, Ethan not Lainey. Instead of soft warmth, and tender passion, I would feel whatever a man feels like - not something I had ever experienced, but surely different than kissing Lainey. Since I was not interested in men, not in any sense of personal intimacy whatsoever, that would have been apparent in the lack of involvement I would feel. And so, with either outcome I could answer Lainey’s question on how I thought about her. Or Ethans’ question on how I thought about him as the case might be.

Well, it was certainly different. That part of my little chain of logic was valid. Ethan definitely did not kiss like Lainey. But the whole ‘experiment’ fell apart when I realized I did not kiss like Adam. And at the same time I was uncovering this deep, dark secret, I discovered something even more disquieting. I did not want to kiss like Adam. As soon as Ethan wrapped me in his arms, I felt myself melt, just like in all the silly romance novels. I wanted him to pull me closer to him, to mold my pliant body to his, to merge us together, forever inseparable. If I lost my identity in his kiss, well, that was just fine with me. I never wanted to come back anyway.

A data sample of one is a piss-poor basis for drawing a sweeping conclusion, but that very fact made it all the more compelling. This was so far from science that application of scientific logic was ludicrous. And if that were true on something as ‘simple’ as a kiss, then how many more of my assumptions needed to be thrown out? Apparently a lot more than I had expected.

The stars had no answers for me, and the moon set long before my watch was over. We had been running close-hauled on the starboard tack, sliding up and down easy three-foot swells, when the motion of the Breeze began to change. It was pretty dark by then. In fact, I realized that the stars were gone over about half the sky when I roused from an introspective fugue. The seas were picking up, and for the first time in forever, the trade wind was getting a bit unsteady. It wasn’t anything to worry about, really. At least, not yet. But worrying about things before they are problems is one of the way to keep them from ever being problems.

"Lainey!" I wasn’t sure she heard me, but she’d soon notice the changed motion of the Breeze. Where we had been running about 45 degrees to the rollers, easing up one side and down the other, I had changed course about 30 degrees to stay close-hauled and now we were bucking them a lot more directly.

"What’s up?" Lainey, I mean, Ethan asked from the passageway.

"Wind’s shifting, and the sky is clouding over. Let’s retrim to get back on course, then if you’ll take the helm, I’ll download the latest weather."

We had faced several minor storms in our year at sea, but we had ridden out any really bad weather safely in port. I was kicking myself for leaving Taiohae without checking the weather properly. That’s what happens when you screw around with a routine that’s working. The local forecast in Taiohae was for good weather, but we were a hundred miles away by now, and heading into what ever was happening.

By the time we had the sheets trimmed again, we were seeing the first light of day behind us. Just before I ducked below I looked back at the gleam in the eastern sky, and saw Ethan standing at the wheel. He was wearing one of my shirts, but it fit him a lot better than it had fit me, at least for a lot of years. With a bit of a beard, he’d really look like something out of a romance novel. Maybe need to tear his shirt a bit, too.

Oh, God, I was doing it again. Now was NOT the time for those sorts of distractions.

However, like a lot of possible problems, this one wouldn’t be as bad as my worst fears had imagined. The satellite download showed a minor front, and open-ocean monitoring stations were reporting conditions we could handle pretty easily with the proper precautions. In fact, it would be exhilarating for a few days. And distracting, in a way I could use.

I fixed a bit of breakfast and went back on deck, grateful that my new body hadn’t lost its sea legs. And that my new stomach was still comfortable with a bit of motion as well.

"What’s the verdict?" Ethan asked as he took a cup of coffee. If it had been bad news, I’d have been on deck a lot sooner, so he already knew not to worry.

"Seas will probably pick up to about 5-6 feet, but the wind should only get up a little. It’s a front, not a real storm. We can probably run today on this tack, then shorten sail this evening on the port tack and miss most of it. It’ll be a bit wilder ride than we’ve had for a while, though."

"Good," he said, grinning broadly. "I have to tell, you, Anya my love, that I really like being strong. I’m looking forward to a bit of weather." Then he laughed and said, "It’s the ‘manly’ thing to do."

"Ah, yes, I suppose it is," I said quietly. And then I realized something else.

"Ethan, do you ever feel, well, jealous that I look so much, I mean, that I have, um, well, a better shape than Elaine?"

"No," he said, a little confused. Then it sort of hit him, too, and he repeated, "No, it doesn’t. And that is a bit of a surprise. I was never ashamed of my body, and I worked hard to keep it fit, but I have to admit I sometimes envied those with bigger bosoms, like you."

It bothered me a bit to have my new shape referred to so . . . bluntly, but what he said was simple and to the point.

Ethan continued, "But when I look at you, all I feel is appreciation for how pretty you are. I never even considered jealousy. Why, are you, um, feeling bad about the way I look?"

"No, and that’s the point. I was just watching you, and I was proud you were, that you are so tall and fit and strong. I was glad you were feeling ‘manly’, and what really surprised me is that I didn’t feel the least bit bad about not feeling the same way. I guess that’s good news."

I could see he really wanted to agree, to make a big deal about just how good that news was. But he didn’t say anything, just nodding quietly and reaching for a piece of toast.

After we ate, Ethan said, "Why don’t you go below and get some sleep?

I know you could use some, and neither of us may get any later."

I could have managed for a while longer, maybe ride the filter cycle or something, but my protest that I was okay was swallowed up in an enormous yawn. After which, well, resistance was futile. The Breeze soon rocked me to sleep, this time without conflicting thoughts or dreams, or as far as I could tell even breathing, for the next several hours.

 

(continued in Part 10)

 

 

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Live Long and Prosper © 2000 by Brandy Dewinter. 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.