The Master: Robe                   by: Rocketman

 

When I woke up, I could hear a robin singing right outside the window.

Looking in that direction, I groaned and sat up.

As usual, I woke up feeling absolutely miserable. My throat was dry and bitterly sore. Aches and pained invaded my shoulder, which meant the treatments weren’t working at all. Then, the worst part was revealed to me. There were huge, irritated hives on my chest and back. I didn’t know what to think.

They had become such a common recurrence, I almost expected to wake up with them every morning. It looked like I was going to have to call Dr. Collens, again.

"I don’t know, Rick, there’s not much left we can do. We’ve tried immuno-suppressants, but then you get terribly ill. We’ve tried topicals, no luck. Constant cleaning, ditto. I only thing left that I can recommend for class 4+ wide-range allergies like yours is to wear all non-abrasive clothing."

"What kind?"

"Silk, satin, and light cottons. It won’t get rid of the hives, but it’ll keep the swelling down. Continue using the topicals….that’s about all I can tell you."

I nodded slowly, understanding that I would never live a normal life.

"Hello Ricky, how are you on this beautiful night?"

Camille smiled her Cheshire grin. I grinned lightly, not feeling all that cheery. She was clothed in her favorite purple feather dress she wore in the shows.

She was a beautiful transvestite.

Once she had been known as Adam Cross, but that was years ago.

"Not as good as I’d like to be."

"What’s wrong, dearie?" With a sigh, I lifted my shirt and showed her my back. Camille recoiled.

"Oh, honey. I’m sorry, I only wish there were something I could do for you."

"There is, can I borrow a couple of your…um….less effeminate things. The doctor said I need to wear silk, satin and light cotton."

Camille nodded, "I have a items I wear to unwind."

I thanked Camille. She was good friend. Ever since the day we met, I had loved her like a sister.

I strolling down the street and saw her struggling desperately to open her hatchback. I came to her assistance and she was immensely grateful.

We shared a cup of coffee afterward and shared our secrets. Mine was my terrible allergies; her’s that she was physically a man.

Needless to say, I was shocked when I learned this. Nevertheless, I was also intrigued. She told me that she had been using hormones for years and recently had been saving money to have the procedure that would change her into a woman.

At first, I wondered if I too was a latent transsexual because of my interest in the topic, but I was too preoccupied with my disorder to wonder about such things.

"Here’s a couple of things, I hope they help you. I’m haven’t worn them in years, so you can have them."

I looked at the pile; a few items were slightly effeminate, but not so bad that I felt worried about it. Camille smiled and returned to her room to refresh her makeup before the next show.

Putting the pile under one arm, I left the Snow’s Music Lounge behind. Turning onto Pilkins Street, I walked up to my house, carefully unlocking the door so as not to drop any of the items I was carrying, and stepped inside.

Flipping on the light switch, I laid the clothes on the couch and walked over to my laptop. Logging on I checked my e-mail messages. There was only one.

"Dear Rick Upkins. We’ve reviewed your submitted novel, "The Love We Lived Together" and are pleased to tell you that we are accepting your manuscript, as is. It is a beautiful novel of romance fiction and, we believe a new major best seller in the genre. You are a terrific writer, Mr. Upkins, and our company hopes to have further dealings with you in the future. You will receive a letter in the mail within the next few days in regards our writing contract. Sincerely, Mark Master, Head of Submissions, Helic-Corbin Publishing"

Sigh. At least something was going right today. I walked over to bathroom, feeling a sudden pressure in my bladder.

After answering this need, I looked in the mirror. I was developing several more hives in my neck. It was the only thing going right today.

Ever since I was child, this was my life. Avoid milk, avoid wheat, shrimp, and just about every animal, grass or pollen known mankind. It was still an existence, but every moment of my life, I wished that could just wipe all this out. Like an editor removing an unwanted paragraph, I would just eliminate it, forever.

However, that still continued to be my dream.

I glanced around and moistened my lips. I looked in the corner, where my brown bathrobe sat on the hook. With a frown, I realized I would have to replace it as well.

The brown fabric, while light compared with most, was just too rough from my sensitive skin. I wondered what nearby places would have what I was looking for.

The Walgreens down the block came to mind, it was even within walked distance. I stuffed a twenty in my back pocket and turned off my computer.

Walking down the steps, I saw my next door neighbor Robert Hawk walking his St. Bernard around the block. I kept downwind of the animal, "Hi, Bob."

Robert looked up, putting a cheeky grin on his face. "How are you doing, Rick? Hey, are you gonna come down to the community cookout tomorrow?"

Trees, grass, and a barbie. No way. I had told Robert once about my problems, but it constantly seemed to slip his mind. The St. Bernard sniffed my carefully, then when assured I was familiar, dropped it’s tongue out and resumed it’s normal behavior.

Beginning to feel the effects of the dog in my presence, I told Robert some story about having an appointment with the dentist. Wrong choice for an answer. That’s because Robert was a dentist.

"That so. Which doctor are you going to? Maybe I could convince him to reschedule?"

I shook my head and assured Robert it was all right. Waving goodbye, I could feel my body rebelling against the faint odor of dog hairs.

Maneuvering away from the various flowery displays the neighbors had set up; I made my way to Walgreens. The store had been a boon for the town of Davesport. Before it arrived, you have to travel close to 30 miles to find anything like it.

"Good afternoon, sir. Can we be of service?" I looked to my left. To my surprise, there was a street-vendor’s table set up in front of the store. Resting on top and behind the table were numerous items of every size and description.

Seated in a lawn-chair behind the table was the man who spoke. He was white-haired, wintry, and compact. Listening to his voice, I could tell he was born somewhere in the British Isles.

In his right hand, he held a gnarled tree branch that ended in a short horizontal perch.

Standing on that perch was an ebony bird, possibly a raven judging by its beak. I examined the two succinctly, momentarily forgetting about my business at Walgreens.

"A raven" answered the old man without hearing my question,

"His name’s the Master of Chaos Theory."

I found it peculiar for a bird to have such a name, but, humoring him, I asked, "How did he come to that name?"

The bird made a short noise and the man answered, "His father named him that."

"Who was his father?"

Another noise. "A raven who went by the grand name of Thomas Winnebago."

"And how did he get that name?"

"From his father, I guess."

The bird visibly nodded, fluffing its feathers and looking proud to share its family history.

"Well. I suppose you get the idea. Is there anything we can help you with?" I found that ‘we’ to be suspicious, but I didn’t say anything about it.

"Not particularly, I was going buy a bathrobe over at Walgreens."

The man ducked under the table and came up with a folded bathrobe. The only problem was it looked quite rough, not to mention pink.

I frowned and reached over to touch it experimentally. To my complete surprise, the garment was silky and utterly smooth despite appearing abrasive. I seemed as though it had been doused with oil, but nonetheless was dry.

Astonished, I found myself very much intrigued by this item.

"How much is it?"

"Normally it goes for 25 dollars, but for you, I’ll knock off five bucks and sell it to you for twenty even."

I happened to have that precise amount. What a coincidence! I handed the man the twenty and he, in turn, handed me the robe. Holding it in my hands, I was still amazed by its smoothness.

The bird squawked.

"Oh, wait. We have a special to go along with that robe. Today only, we’re offering two bath towels made with the same material, absolutely free."

I reached over and received the two complimentary towels. They were just as pleasant against my skin as the robe.

The bird teetered back and forth, almost in anticipation.

"What kind of material is this?", I asked, completely confounded as to what is could possibly be. It was like a hybrid cotton-silk with all the advantages of later without any of the disadvantages of either.

"It’s a material the Master created himself."

Almost expected that answer, I nodded at the two of them and when on my way.

"I hope it helps you with your problem," called the old man to me. I turned back and smiled. Something about his answer unnerved me. How did he know I had a problem? Was my condition that evident?

I knew there were certain aspects of my disorder that were simply impossible to hide. Like the hives when they formed on my neck.

But the ones I possessed now where virtually indistinguishable from most other blemishes. I had no explanation. Maybe the guy was a dermatologist before he became a street-vendor. You had to wonder.

Soon I was back home.

Closing the door behind me, I took off my shirt and looked down. The hives were getting worse. There were several outbreaks, though none serious but I would have to keep an eye on them. A couple of years ago I had to be hospitalized due to a particularly nasty attack.

Feeling my ear, I could sense one forming near by auditory cavity. That meant I would have diminished hearing in a couple of days. Great, just great. If my life wasn’t complicated enough.

I booted up my laptop and began writing. I didn’t care what came out; I just wanted to get it flowing at the expense of poor Kristen Hall, my heroine. By the time I was done, I realized that I actually had a pretty good story going. But, it still lacked something.

I just couldn’t figure out what it was. With a sigh, I saved my work and went to get a cup of coffee. I brought the cup over to the TV and turned it on.

I scanned through the channels.

Indians win.

Sweet.

Fire in Cincinnati. Big deal, it’s more than 60 miles away. Movie reruns, not my style. I flipped on one of the evening soaps. It was better than nothing.

Camille had shown me one a couple of nights ago. It wasn’t thrilled, but there were certain things in it I found could be adapted into my story. I guess that was my excuse tonight.

I expected to fall asleep, but for some reason I kept watching and had seen enough to feel infuriated when Barbara left with her double-crossing, half-cousin, abandoning Bill and their three children.

When the program was over I flipped off the TV and checked the time. It was only 9:30. Nonetheless, I felt dog-tired.

I know it sounds strange, but working at home without a schedule is utterly exhausting, at least for a free-lance romance novelist.

Shed the rest of my clothing, picked up the robe and towels where I left them and wandered into the bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I sighed again. It was a common response of mine.

Taking a shower was always an arduous task. I had to use a form of non-abrasive talc that the doctor had prescribed for me. It was not an enjoyable experience by a long shot. Half the time I had to be careful so as not to irritate my hives. Nonetheless, I routinely irritated several hives during each shower. This not only caused a sharp and severe jolt of pain, but also made the sore increase in diameter.

This time was no different from the others.

Stepping out of the shower, I held back the tears in my eyes so that I could find my towel. Touched the pink cloth (color wasn’t a matter of mine as long as it helped), to my face.

It felt even more pleasant that I had imagined. No sharp pain from the irritations. My hives were apparently even more confused than I about what the heck this material was. Dabbing it on my chin, I was shocked to find my body was not reacting to the material.

I wanted to start wiping my body like I had seen people do on TV. I made myself resist the temptation, knowing that no matter how smooth and soft the cloth was, moving it rapidly across my backside was gonna hurt like hell.

So I stuck to the game plan and dabbed the cloth lightly across my body until it was dry. When I was done, I examined myself in the mirror.

I was sure my jaw dropped open and rolled across the floor like daffy duck’s when I saw my reflection. Where before my body had been covered with sores, there were now only a few and none of them were as large as the smallest ones mere minutes ago.

Miracle was the only word I could think of. Thinking about what might have happened, I eyed the robe in anticipation. If rubbing the one against my skin for a minute did this, then perhaps the robe would complete the job.

I knew I was being over-optimistic. The towel probably just relaxed the hives and when I left the room, the presence of dust mites and what not would just make them go crazy again. Putting on the towel, I shrugged and hoped for the best.

The robe went over me easily, although my gut did trouble me with trying off the sash. Looking at my reflection succinctly, I giggled (giggled?)

Boy, that was weird. But then, so was the sight I presented. Once again, strange thoughts crept into my head, but I dispelled them quickly. This was helping, what it looked like was just a side matter.

Regardless, I had to admit I looked pretty silly in a pink bathrobe. Another smile. I was beginning to feel better. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so terrible after all.

Yawn. My eyes fluttered, I was getting tired. I walked out of the bathroom and over to my bedroom.

I flipped the lights off and walked over to the bed; deciding that I was gonna wear the robe to bed. I pushed aside all but the bottom-most sheet and tried to find a relaxing position.

Unlike the numerous nights that had preceded this, I found that I was undisturbed in my pursuit of sleep.

My night was dreamless, or at the very least, I didn’t remember any of the ones I had.

My eyes fluttered open again, greeted by the rising sun. The robins sung. But, something was amiss.

An instant later, I realized what had happened. I could no longer sense the hives that had always been a constant presence with me every waking moment.

Surely, this had to be a dream. Wearing a robe won’t fix a problem you’re had all your life. I reached up to pinch myself on the arm.

Then, I noticed an aberration before me. My hands.

Blinking several times to clear my eyes, I thought I could see long, pink fingernail where simple, shortly trimmed ones had been the other days. Looking lower, I realized that my fingernails weren’t the only things that had changed.

My fingers and the hands they rested atop had changed as well. The formerly eczema-riddled tips were now immaculate and slightly smaller than they had once been.

The same went for my hands. Tracing the changes closer to my trunk, I saw that my arms were involved too. Once pocked with dry areas and one or two hives when I touched grass with them, they were now flawless and petite; without more than simple, sparse downy hairs.

Shaking my head, I felt a strange swishing against the back of my neck. I ignored this and went lower.

Following my arms to the shoulder, my eyes were drawn down.

The collar of robe was folded into a half-triangle that met slightly below my neck. What caught my attention was what lay below that.

In the chest section was an impression made in the material. Two, distinct impressions, to be precise. I took a breath, the first one I was conscious of.

My chest rose and rubbed against the material in a way I had never experienced before. It didn’t irritate me or cause any adverse response. It touched me in a place several inches above where my chest should have been. A tingle hit me, it wasn’t much, and I could have shrugged it off as nothing under different circumstances, but it only added to my confusion.

The tingle originated from a place that shouldn’t have existed. I sat up.

A stronger tingle hit me, as well as a shift in weight distribution. It was almost as if I had a body part dangling out in front of me.

Additionally, I felt and could see locks of hair dangling around my neck. The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. Pulling the cover off, I jumped out of the bed and ran over to the bathroom.

As I ran, I was aware of the same part moving up and down, responding directly to gravity. A far recess of my mind attempted to explain it away, but gave up when I could think of no rational justification.

I turned the corner and came face to face with my new self. My new self was a she. I admitted that although I wasn’t completely sure anatomy-wise.

Her face was cute, very cute. I couldn’t help but smile lightly. Then the sight of a smile on such a face caused me to intensify my smile until it appeared downright goofy. My dangling, light brown hair only added to that effect.

I chortled, letting the smile fade away. I shook my head. It seemed all so amazing, me a different gender overnight. If I’d turned out ugly or deformed or something, I think I might have killed myself. Being cute was a blessing.

I fingered the tie-cloth a second, and looked down at my legs and feet. Not too much of them were shown.

The robe, which only went as far as my knee last night, now dropped to my lower calf. I frowned, which looked even cuter in the mirror.

A chuckle, then I reminded myself that this was my body I was laughing at. I sobered up a little.

I walked next to the door jam and tried to estimate my present height. I was in luck. There was a fresh mark in the door from a couple of days ago.

For no reason, I had marked my height with a penknife; I had been 6 foot 2 that day. That mark was now invaluable to me. Measuring from it down to the top of my head discovered I was now only somewhere between 5 foot 4 or 6. I didn’t know for sure.

Realizing how small I was now shocked me. Despite the fact I had always been a loner due to my disorder, I had always valued my height. Being without it made me feel strange.

Those legs and feet that just barely reached were in proportion with my tiny body as well as being femininely smooth. My feet looked to be about a size 4 or smaller. I moved my feet together, clenching my thighs.

I was met with no protest from my penis, which provided even more evidence that it probably no longer existed.

I was tempted to just removed the robe and explore the rest of anatomy, but I resisted. The cute, adorable perception I had of myself, perhaps. Seeing myself naked would definitely destroy that preconception and I wanted to hang onto to that for a little while at least.

I leaned over the corner and stared at my face in the mirror. Searching my mind, I tired to come up with a couple of faces that resembled mine. Rachel Leigh Cook came up, as did Natalie Portman, then some prissy guest girl on Saved by the Bell who’s name eluded me.

Smile. Giggle. Smile. Giggle.

I felt like a schoolgirl. In fact, I was willing to bet I wasn’t much older than one, certainly not far beyond college age.

I stared at myself and made a glum face, it vanishing into a giggle a second later.

I tried several different expressions; angry (now that was funny), amorous, just about every emotion expression I could think of. Each ended up amusing when seen on my new face. A wondered for an instant whether I was losing my mind. Nah.

When I was done with expressions, I moved onto mixing them with poses. This was so much fun; before smiling felt forced and frowns felt dismal.

In this new body, everything felt joyously new and whimsical. I tilted my shoulders up and smiled. Giggle. I shook my head. Man, that was cute. I couldn’t get over how cute everything looked on me.

The reality of what had happened to me wasn’t even setting in yet. I was too busy having fun.

Then, wouldn’t you know it, nature called.

Grimace. I nearly giggled again, but held it for fear I would lose bladder control. Inching my way over to the toilet, I sat down quickly and none too soon.

An instant later, a stream of urine flowed out from me and into the bowl below. I kept the robe up so it wouldn’t get soiled. This gave me a nice view my new equipment and proof of my induction in the female gender.

I smiled, for a reason I didn’t yet fully understand.

When I done with my business, I wiped myself carefully, flushed the toilet and washed my hands. I glanced over at the toilet and thought…. no more lifting up the seat for me.

I was tempted to examine myself in the mirror some more, but I felt a rumbling in my stomach. Then, the doorbell rang.

I froze. A faint voice spoke.

"Rick, are you home?" It was Robert; he probably came over to ask me about the community cookout. What time was it? It glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall; it read ‘ 11:20 ‘.

Boy had I overslept. It must have had something to do with the transformation. I thought for a moment, wondering what I should do. I doubted he would believe me if I told him I was Rick, so the only choice left was to tell him, I was Rick’s cousin or something.

Yes, that was the ticket. I looked enough like I had before to be able to pull it off. But what happened to Rick? I had to think about an explanation. I ran into the living room.

Robert’s shadow could be seen through the drapes. I moved carefully and looked through the items Camille had given me, thank god for her.

There was something almost like a blouse, but without a low, feminine neckline. I also found a pair of shorts, perfect. The problem was my breasts. Fortunately, I was in luck; one of Camille’s bras had been drawn to the pile and was clinging to one of the shirts.

With a gulp, I disrobed and compared the bra cups with my breasts. Seeing my breasts for the first time was an interesting experience. Unlike I had expected, I didn’t feel slutty by looking at them, in fact, I felt a little giddier.

The cups and my breasts were a close match, thank goodness. It must have been one of Camille’s earlier bras because I was sure my breasts were significantly smaller than Camille’s.

Having seen her put on one before helped me at figuring out how to put this on, but it was still difficult. After a few tries, I finally secured it in place.

Robert knocked again and said something I wasn’t able to catch. I didn’t have any panties and I doubted my male underpants would help, so I decided to go without for the time being.

I pull the shorts on and was surprised then they were actually several sizes too big for me. This made me glad they were a drawstring.

The ends stopped right below my knee, whereas they would have been above my upper thigh before. I pulled the blouse on and buttoned it quickly.

I wondered for a moment whether it was trendy for woman to tuck in their blouses. Realizing I would find out later, I decided to leave it dangling.

I looked down over myself. The bra kept my breasts confined again gravity. The blouse disguised the bra beneath it. This was a good thing; I didn’t want my first impression on Robert to be that of slut.

Smoothing out my blouse and shorts, I touched my hair softly, trying to arrange it to my liking. For a couple of seconds I wondered why I was so worried about how I looked to Robert, then I shrugged it off and finished with my hair. I tossed the robe in the bathroom.

I walked over to the door and waited for the next knock. It didn’t come. Worried, I unlocked the door and opened it.

Immediately, I could tell it was a beautiful day. The sky was blue and cloudless. The foliage was in full bloom and the birds were chirping along happily.

Yesterday I would have gone ‘ Dammit! ‘ and returned to my cave. But today was today. Robert was walking back down the steps frustrated. I was tempted to call to him, but I restrained myself.

His St. Bernard glanced around behind him, probably catching my scent. I wondered if I smelled different to him. The dog galloped back up the steps and stopped at my feet. He nuzzled them with his wet nose.

I giggled and crouched down, petting his head softly and rubbing his ears. The dog made its confusion evident, attempting to smell every inch of me; probably sure I was Rick, but getting conflicting information from its nose.

"Hello?" asked Robert, having been drawn back by the absence of his dog. I looked up and smiled, then I gave the dog a soft hug and rose to my feet. If I was going to celebrate my independence from allergies, I was going jump into the deep end.

"Hi, you must be Robert Hawk. Rick’s told me so much about you." I reached out my hand to greet him.

Robert nodded, took my hand, and placed a gentle kiss upon it. I blushed. "Interesting, Rick’s told me absolutely nothing about you, miss?"

I had to come up with a name.

"Heather Upkins. Rick and I haven’t gotten along that well these last few years. We were just beginning to patch up our relationship when Rick took a turn for the worse."

Robert held his hands nervously, "What happened to him?"

"He had to be a transported to the Cleveland Clinic. He was in anaphylactic shock." Being a writer definitely had its advantages, like an inexhaustible supply of technical terms.

Robert adopted a look of shock, chiefly to show me that he cared about my problems and listened. Having once been a man, and having an associate’s degree in psychology helped me recognize this.

"How terrible! I certainly hope he’s gonna be all right."

I tried my best to look glum and was nearly defeated when I was reminded of the way I looked when I made this face, "Unfortunately, he’s going to be gone for a while, the doctors want to keep him close to the clinic. In the meantime, I was just tossed out of my apartment so Rick said I could use his house until I find another place."

The perfect explanation, Rick didn’t have to be around and I could still write for money in the meantime. Robert started out shaking his head, then, realizing something, glanced at me.

"You’re going to be here for a while?"

"A couple of weeks to a couple of months." Robert looked visibly elated and I felt glad that he did. Thinking about this for a moment, I wondered if I was becoming attracted to Robert.

My nipples, while small compared to some, were becoming larger in size. I realized immediately this was going to be the only erection I would ever feel again.

I reality of that fact failed to connect with me. I shrugged it off again. There was nothing I could do at the moment, why not have fun while it lasts? I did understand though that there was a fine line between fun and…..fun.

I assured myself that I had no ruminate thoughts about Robert leading in that direction. But, deep, hidden sensations disturbed me.

Robert smiled innocently. The dog panted.

"What’s the dog’s name?"

Robert reached down and petted his animal, "Christo."

I chuckled, "Does he like to wrap things in plastic?"

"No, try toilet paper, he….."

The Christo sniffed at something and ran into the house. I leaned against the doorframe to get out of the lumbering animal’s way. Robert frowned and desperately called, "Christo! Come back here!"

I waved my hand nonchalantly at Robert and told him, "Don’t worry, I’ll get him." Robert looked disappointed for a second, then nodded.

I simply smiled sweetly, like I had been doing for the last couple of minutes. Christo’s trail wasn’t hard to find, just follow the noise. I soon discovered Christo was raiding my bathroom.

I scampered after him.

"Christo! You better not be pulling on that toilet paper!"

The Saint Bernard was indeed eyeing the roll, but what caught its attention more was the strange, pink bathrobe that was lying on the floor.

I shot the dog an irritated glance; it only smiled, probably finding amusement in my expressions as well. Then, he got his teeth on the robe.

I jumped over and tried to tug the garment away from him. The animal’s instincts jumped in and he began to tug on it as well.

I wasn’t about play tug-of-war with it, so I did the only thing I could. I took the sides of the robe and flipped it over Christo. The bewildered dog froze for a second, completely covered, then whimpered.

The end it was holding fell out of its mouth and I was able to lift off the garment. Underneath lay a changed beast.

Christo’s coat, once tangled and a little bit dirty, now had a silky and well-combed sheen to it. More importantly, as I looked underneath it, I discovered that Christo now possessed mammaries and a female groin.

With a smile, I rubbed her head and announced, "Welcome to the fairer sex, Christo. Now, instead of looking for lady dogs, you’re gonna be pursued. It’ll be tough, but you’ll be pleased to know you turned out absolutely cute."

Christo stood around, perplexed. Possibly feeling a tingling in his groin, Christo whimpered. I smiled and led her to the backyard.

Sniffing around briefly, Christo proceeded to lift her leg. A stream of urine dribbled down her other leg and dripped on the ground. I shook my head, "Christo, you’re a girl now. You know that girl’s can’t lift their legs. You’re going to have to learn to sit when you have to go. Just like I did."

The dog shook it’s leg, desperately trying to figure out why it’s member was no longer present. I sat beside Christo. "Come on, girl. Let’s get you cleaned up."

I dabbed one of the pink towels on Christo’s legs. It wasn’t like they were going to feminize her even more. Then I looked her in the eye and let out a sigh.

"I don’t know how to tell you this Christo, but your name is gonna sound really silly if you use it anymore. So, you’re gonna have to come up with a new one."

Whimper.

"I know, it’s all so confusing. The same thing happened to me. You know Rick Upkins; he walked on the other side of the street when you greeted him? Yesterday, that was me."

Apparently, I was getting my message across because Christo looked surprised. "Yup, allergies and all. Now I’m free of that bind. As a side effect, I’m the opposite gender. What happened to you was an accident. However, if I can adjust, I have faith that you can adjust too."

Christo scampered out of the bathroom and into the living room. Robert was standing in the right inside the door jam.

"Hey boy! What have you been doing?"

I frowned, knowing the truth. "Robert, we have to talk, right now." Robert glanced at his watch, grabbing firmly ahold of the dog’s collar, still not aware of physical changes his pet had endured. "Can we talk later? I’m a volunteer at this year’s community cookout and I need to be there early. Hey, how about we talk there? It’s from 3 till 7. All right."

I couldn’t believe this guy. How could I be attracted to him? He’s over consumed with himself and oblivious of obvious changes. I shook my head solemnly.

I tried to look serious. More than likely, I looked ridiculous.

"Robert. I’m Rick. He didn’t go away to Cleveland. I’m him. " Robert paused a moment, blinking numerous times. "What?"

I hated repeating myself. "Look at Christo. Pay careful attention to the space between his….or should I say, her legs."

He looked at me for a moment, like I was an idiot, then ducked down and took a quick look at his dog’s groin. Upon finding an aberration, he took a careful look at the dog’s face. It was smiling.

"Christo?"

The dog turned, attentive to his master’s voice. Robert shook his head; sure there was a simpler explanation to all this somewhere.

"Where’s my dog?"

"That’s Christo."

Robert tightened his lips, now sure that I was crazy. "That dog is female."

Christo appeared to understand part of what he had said, because a moment later, she tucked her tail between her legs and whimpered. I frowned and looked at Robert accusingly.

"I can prove it. " Robert gave me a ‘ try me ‘ look and folded his arms. I went over to the bathroom and retrieved the bathrobe. I displayed it to him. He looked it over, amazing by the silky feel of the material.

"Put it on," I commanded. Robert gave me a ‘ you can’t be serious ‘ look and responded, "Why?"

"Because there are no other males in the room. There’s your proof. This garment turns anything male into female. Small, cute female, but nonetheless female."

Robert examined the item carefully, glanced at Christo, and then shook his head, declaring, "Impossible."

"Then put it on, you have nothing to fear if it’s impossible."

Robert bit his lip; he paused for a moment, touching the fabric experimentally. Perhaps he had doubts.

After a pregnant pause, he answered, "I don’t have time for games. Where’s my dog?" He handed the robe back to me. I gestured to Christo; "You don’t want her?"

"That’s not my dog. Where’s Christo?"

Christo walked over to Robert’s side, a happy look on her face. Robert frowned and inched away from the animal.

I shrugged.

"If you will not hand over Christo, then I will report you to the police on dognapping charges and fraud, attempting to pass off another dog as mine."

I shrugged again. Wouldn’t the police be surprise to discover not only did I not have a social security number, finger print record, or birth certificate, but I also didn’t have a single shred of evidence concerning my existence.

I found this slightly disturbing a moment later when I realized what it meant. Oh well, I still had e-mail, although taxes would be a real problem. Robert shook his head and looked at the robe.

"Okay, give it to me." I handed him the robe. He looked at it and sighed, "Ain’t got nothing to lose." Only your manhood, I thought.

He shook the robe slowly and turned it around to put his left arm in the sleeve. I was tempted to stop him, strange desires pushing me, but I resisted and watched as he slid the other arm in.

Checking himself with a grunt, he tied off the draw string and was about to respond, when the robe did it’s magic.

I found it odd that while the garment had done its job overnight it only took a couple of seconds to transform him. His short, almost curly blond hair stretched out like a wad of chewing gum, becoming long and luscious.

Robert’s face compressed and took on a youthful, feminine and, especially darling appearance. It didn’t look quite as young and adorable as my face, but came in an extremely close second.

Robert’s body, like a piece of clay molded by mysterious hands, changed shape and diminished in size. Two protrusions pushed out of Robert’s chest and from my vantage point they seemed to eclipse mine. I began to feel jealous of him…..or rather, her.

The robe that barely went over her large thighs now came close to touching the floor, easily enclosing her small, feminine legs, that undoubtedly now held a pussy between them. I felt disappointed that my musings about Robert would never be answered, but a whole new set of fantasies came up when I saw her new, elegant, dainty form.

When the changes were complete, Robert shook her head and tried to continue her thought, "There’s nothing." Robert froze as soon as she uttered those words, clutching her lips.

The sound that escaped her was defitting of someone of such petite beauty. If Natalie Portman had been blond, she would have been the new Robert Hawk. Hair color aside, Robert and me could have been related, we looked so much alike physically.

I wondered, did the robe have an idealized form from which it drew? If so, then why didn’t Christo look like us? Was it some kind of advanced technology or ol’ fashioned magic?

While I pondered all this, a stunned Robert Hawk looked down and stared open-mouthed at her new cleavage. She began hyperventilating, trying to tell herself that this was not happening.

I came over and put my hand on her shoulder. "It’s real Bob, like I told you. Yesterday, I was Rick Upkins, minutes ago Christo could lift his leg and mere moments ago, you were male. Now, we’re all female."

Robert put her hand to her flawless forehead, then fainted. I sighed. Now I was gonna have to find some way to lift her. First of all, I took of her the robe.

Underneath I discovered something amazing. Robert’s checkered flannel shirt had shrunk to accommodate her new body. The checkered pattern had been also changed into a colorful, flower print. The flannel material stayed the same though.

Her blue jeans took on a feminine shape to contain her feminine rump. Pink socks and a pair of black flats adorned her feet, I hadn’t noticed that. I was too busy examining the more important, physical changes in Robert.

With a gulp, I unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her legs. In the place of what must have been his boxers were a pair of white, satin panties hugging a flat crotch.

Pursing my lips tightly, I gripped the panties and slid them down. Why did I do this? I was curious.

Revealed before for me was a sparsely haired pussy much like my own, which was unclothed beneath my shorts.

Realizing my activities were exposed, I closed the front door and locked it. Christo sniffed around for a minute then went into the back yard through the open screen door.

I focused my attention back on Robert. Her pussy lay exposed before me. Realizing what I had originally intended to do, I gripped her shoulders with both hands and attempted to pull.

After much effort, I was able to get her onto the carpet a few feet away. Her panties and jeans were left curled together in a heap on the linoleum.

I panted from the effort and looked at Robert. Staring at her naked legs and groin aroused me slightly. I only wished she were awake.

I wondered if I should lay her on the couch. I hoped that I would be able to lift her up there, getting as far as I was had taken a superhuman effort. I glanced at her flat’s, they had to go.

I put my hands around the heel and pulled it off carefully, dropping it on the pile. Then, I did the same with the other.

The shoe size was puny compared to a man’s, but I suspected they might be a little too large for me at my current size. Dispensing with the shoes, I decided to take off the socks as well.

They were not much larger than a child’s socks. Looking at them intently for a moment, I added them to the pile.

I was about to attempt to get Robert onto the nearby couch, when I caught sight of her cleavage beneath the small flannel shirt. Fingering at the buttons, the shirt was off in several seconds.

Except for the bra formed out her undershirt, Robert was now completely naked. I took off my white blouse and compared cleavage. While I was a mere 42B, Robert was an impressive 24C (impressive when compared with her overall size and appearance).

The tits that poked through her bra looked quite enticing. My pussy began to lubricate and widen. Was I a lesbian? It was a possibility; but then again, Robert was a man just minutes ago, you had to take that into consideration.

Feeling my shorts beginning to get wet, I hiked them off and added them to the growing pile.

We were now both naked except for our bras. It was a very interesting situation indeed, but would have been more interesting if only Robert were awake.

My mind flashed, I knew just the way to wake him up. Working quickly, I unsnapped her bra and pulled it off, leaving Robert completely naked. A smile filled my lips and I bent over her tits.

With my mouth just inches away from her right tit, I exhaled warm air on her. Robert smiled, still in la-la land.

I proceeded to the other nipple and did the same to it. This time the smile was slightly larger. I wondered what she was dreaming about.

I decided to go another step, I let my tongue drop gingerly on the edges of her breasts. Her muscles jerked involuntarily as though she’d received a static shock. At the moment, I wished I had two heads, or at the very least, two tongues. I smiled at the thought.

Continuing with the right breast, I slowly flicked the tit. Immediately, it became hard beneath my tongue. Now that was interesting. I changed my strategy to sucking now that I had her erect and was greeted with a moan, from both of us.

When I was assured that the right tit was fully aroused, I began on the other. Robert began panting rapidly and I could tell by the moistness around her crotch that she was definitely enjoying this.

By the time both tits were aroused Robert was nearing consciousness, but she still needed something else to wake her up. So, I decided to go for the big tamale.

I turned around, wondering if I should just go for crotch or just go 69. If she had been awake I might have considered 69, but I didn’t want the first thing she sees to be my naked pussy. I wasn’t Sharon Stone.

So, I decided to go right for her cunt, like a shark going after a surfer. I opened her legs and bend over her dripping pussy. I played with the clit first, which prompted a strong reaction from Robert.

Then, I went right for the prize, into her vagina with my tongue. Robert squealed and if that wasn’t gonna wake her up, nothing would. With reluctance, I retreated from her womanhood, whipping my face and reaching for a large blanket on the couch.

I laid it out on the floor over Robert. There was no way I was gonna get her on the couch in my current, sweaty condition. I sat down and examined my tits; they were huge at the moment, intrigued by what I was doing with Robert. My pussy was getting moist at the moment.

Nonetheless, I left feeling even more innocent now than I did for. Now I had nothing to hide, like a tiny seraph. It was a nice feeling.

Even the next couple of minutes I spent masturbating did nothing to change that image. Then came the pay off.

With my fingers pressed into my vaginal opening, I felt my first female orgasm. Boy, was it intense. I thought it would never stop. Just like the energizer bunny, it kept going….and going…..and going.

Finally, my orgasmic pleasure was broken by a moan from Robert. I rushed over and put on some clothes while Robert was busy waking up. Most importantly, I ‘ borrowed ‘ her panties. Now they felt really nice, barely worn, and a snug fit.

Robert groaned and sat up; the blanket covering her fell to expose her excited tits. Robert froze again. I was worried for several moments that she might drop to the floor again, but she held herself steady.

"It was real," uttered Robert, hands drifting down to her tits. Her small, childlike fingers perused the contours of her breasts, delicately as first. When satisfied that the sight before her was in fact genuine, Robert turned her large, doe eyes toward me and asked nervously, "Is this permanent?"

Realizing that I could take back a false assertion easier than a false hope, I answered, "It’s permanent."

Robert’s mouth dropped open and looked down at her tits. I knew what must have been going through her mind. The same things that should have been going through my mind. Sex, erotic musing, thoughts of periods, time of month, safe sex and PMS. The trappings of being a enchanting young woman

Being among that class, I should have undoubtedly given these repercussions much thought. I didn’t.

Perhaps I was too drunk on being cute to realize the possibilities and limitations of my new gender? Maybe it was the result of the robe, some effect it caused? Then why wasn’t Robert immediately affected?

I could only shrug at this idea; it was truly a puzzle of massive proportions. Casting aside doubt for a moment, I smiled and crouched beside Robert.

"You’re gonna need a new name, so does Christo." Christo, albeit, was absent at the moment, chasing butterflies in the backyard.

Robert looked at me as though I had just told her an incomprehensible notion. One does not change their name for need of it. They are raised by it, grow into it. To change it is not a mere matter of flippant whim.

Nonetheless, I’d done exactly that in a heartbeat.

Who was I to ask Robert to give up her given name and take on another, possibly for life? Not just one that the Witness Protection Program might hand out, but one fitting of her new existence.

I could only suggest. Robert curled up into a ball, so that the blanket could cover her entire body with ease, hiding the truth.

I had to do something.

"Jessica?"

Another bizarre look. Sigh. "If you ever leave this house again in your life, you’re at the very least going to need an alias."

"Where did you get that robe?"

"From an old man and a raven in front of Walgreens."

"We have to go there," Robert turned to me, eyes full of determination.

"All in good time, but what are you going to call yourself when you go out to find them?"

"I don’t know."

There was a paused, as Robert looked down at herself, and wondered why I was clothed while she was naked. As well, I assumed she was confounded by why her was so gosh-darn aroused.

I took the robe and laid it on some of the clothes from my bedroom, an instant later, they were feminine and bearing our similar dimensions.

She examined the foreign garments carefully; they were quite similar to what she had been clothed in mere moments ago. I could have just traded clothes back with her, but we needed the bras anyway and I didn’t want to get her asking about what I did when she was unconscious.

After a couple of false starts, mostly concerning her bra and panties, Robert was a fully clothed and attractive young woman. I smiled.

Robert frowned, sure that something was amiss, "What is it?" I couldn’t think of the words with which to tell her how incredibly cute she looked. I’m sure similar thoughts crossed her own mind.

So, I decided to go with the mirror test. I led a confused Robert into the bathroom, whereupon I pointed her at her reflection.

The reaction took on a few seconds. Upon seeing the childish, lovable face, consternation was transformed into an all encompassing grin. When the grin reflected back at her, Robert lost her composure and began giggling. A school girl giggle, just like mine.

Like I had done minutes ago, Robert went through a montage of expressions, falling apart each and every time. After several minutes had passed, Robert froze and looked in the mirror, and this time really looked deep.

A single breath.

"My God. I’m so small, so beautiful. How can anyone be so beautiful? So tender and lovely, so incredibly everything except masculine. Womanly…feminine….forever. If this is my fate then I can live with it in a body like this. A body of so many ideal fates."

I could sense the robe beginning to act upon Robert; her male voice was fading away with every laugh. Giggle, Robert turned around and looked at me, smiling, "Do I look nice to you?"

"A elegantly crafted doll, made from the finest pieces ever crafted by the hand of man." Robert blushed and cast a glance back at the mirror. Giggle. "I hardly feel right for the honor. If anyone, you are the one who’s best fit to that description."

"It’s all yours, but it lacks a culmination. It lacks a name befitting its beauty." Robert frowned and thought for minute, "I’ve never been too good with female names. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Jessica?"

"You mentioned that one already. " I smiled; she’d been paying attention. "Geena?"

Negative.

"Umm….Jennifer?"

Negative.

"Cindy?"

Negative.

"Robin?"

"Nice, but it doesn’t feel apt to this body. Robin is more androgynous than anything and this is scarcely an androgynous body."

"Kristen? Alice?"

Robert’s eyes lit up at these two selections. "I find both of them apt. I can’t decide which should be mine. No, wait, I know. I’d rather be a Kristen than an Alice. I would like that."

Taking some water for the tap, I dabbed her head and announced, "From henceforth, your name shall no longer be Robert Hawk, but Kristen…."

"….Clark", answered the newly christened Kristen.

"Kristen Clark."

Kristen smiled and turned back to the mirror, playing with the way she wanted her hair arranged. "My ex used to go to a hair salon downtown. I think I should get this more styled to the back rather than the sides. What do you think?"

Visualizing this, I discovered she would look even cuter with that kind of hair style. "Sure, why not."

Kristen jumped up and down, her tits lagging behind with her body despite the confinement of a bra, "When can we go? When?"

I shrugged; I was free at the moment, if she was free, "Now?"

Kristen’s mouth hung open in ecstasy, "Really?"

"Sure."

Like a little girl who’d been wishing all her life for a tea set and now had it, Kristen jumped for joy and tugged at my arm. I had no choice, but to follow. For a moment, just a moment, I felt like a mother with a rambunctious daughter.

Mother. Perhaps it was not a far off fate for me? On a whim, I stopped Kristen and asked her a question, "How do you feel?"

A lovely, innocent frown entered her face, "Okay."

"What about losing your manhood?"

She shrugged, "It was always getting in the way, besides, it feels so much better to have vagina. It looks simple on the outside, but it’s so complex inside and crucial to humankind. Unlike the penis, it creates human life."

"How do you feel about sex?"

She folded her arms, "Now? I thought we were going to go to the salon. Oh well, I’ve always wondered what sex between women would be like. Can I be on the bottom?"

Okay, now this was getting scary. Hey, maybe this was just her way of dealing with all this? Maybe it was something else entirely?

"I mean sex between you and a man. Sex that would produce offspring." Kristen began to smile, her eyes moistened and her voice became lighter, "A baby. A baby growing inside of me, kicking and moving….alive. A baby to suckle my tits, heavy with milk. A baby to love and to nurture. God, what I wouldn’t give for at least a dozen of them."

Klaxons when off in my head, something was changing inside Kristen, she was becoming less and less like Robert every second. I could have passed it off on the level of estrogen flooding her body, but I wasn’t feeling the same things she was. Very strange.

I looked at her clothing for a minute, "Are you okay wearing that?" Kristen frowned and glanced down at the soft, silky blouse that I had once worn and lovely shorts.

"Sure. Are you okay wearing flannel and jeans, I hear it’s gonna be a little warm today?" You know the idea of an idea being represented by a light bulb over your head? Well, at that precise moment, I swear to you I just about heard the ‘click’ of a light switch.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wallet. Surely, it hadn’t been there before, or I would have noticed it? The wallet was Robert’s.

Using the bathrobe, I covered the wallet and waited. After waiting several seconds, I noticed the impression made by the object underneath the robe had grown.

We discovered a black purse in place of the wallet. Searching through the purse, I found a driver’s license, issued to one "Kristen Clark." The notion that this was surely magic came to me when I realized that the DMV picture was flattering.

Birth certificate, credit cards, and even a fine makeup kit were contained within. Kristen looked over each and every item, her jaw slack with shock.

Glancing at my own wallet sitting on the dresser in my room, I wondered whether it too would transform just as easily. It did.

"Heather Kathryn Upkins" proudly shouted my driver’s license, also containing a flawless photo and a capital "F" for sex. The middle name Kathryn was unexpected, but I had been toying with using it. The whole situation was all so incredible.

Here the two of us were, with valid ID, new lives, and infinite possibilities. Christo bounded in, tongue dangling. "Hi, Crissy." Boom, a new name for Christo had been declared and obviously, it had taken for the moment I spoke, her head swiveled in our direction.

Kristen gave me a cute, pouty frown, only slightly upset that she hadn’t the chance to name her dog, but still satisfied with the result nonetheless.

"Come here Crissy, that’s a girl." She hugged her dog and sighed, "So how about that salon visit now."

Possessing all the ID and cash one could ever need to live a life; we walked into the salon and proceeded to get both of hairstyles subtly altered. Kristen jumped for a Cher-esque do, while I selected a straight, but curly at the tips look.

When comparing the two of us together in the mirror, you got the impression that we had to be sisters. "How are you doing, ladies?"

The voice sounded familiar, careful, soft, but straining to be so. I turned around and saw Camille, getting her hair done. She was the one who had spoken.

I said hi and thanked her for the clothes she had loaned me. I realized my oversight a moment later, when her eyes looked perplexed. I announced my identity to her and was met with a reasonable degree of skepticism

After explaining our situation, Camille’s eyes, at first dark and questioning lit up and warmed to possibility of an escape from the male prison that held her true body captive.

About a week later, three girlfriends walked by the local Walgreens, chatting to one another about a dozen wonderfully unimportant topics.

"Hello ladies. How are you all?"

Each of them went up to the old man’s table and smiled, giving him and the raven beside him their sincerest thanks, then going off to enjoy their new existence.

"Well well, sir. Looks like another good job on your part. You gave a distraught and maligned romance author a second chance at life. Now those heroines in his novels will come alive for sure. You gave a friendly, yet terminally ill dentist new hope. You completed a woman who had always been searching for her inner self. And you did all that with a single garment."

The Master tried to look humble, but felt quite proud of his accomplishment on the inside.

"Suppose you could say you killed three birds with one stone."

The Master groaned.

 

The End.

 

(Author’s Note – I enjoyed writing this story, but somehow it feels too ripe. If anyone wishes to take the above story and write an alternate version, perhaps from Robert-Kristen’s or Camille’s POV, just write me at Rocket3287@aol.com. As well, I’d like to open up the Master Universe to others if who wish to write about it. The premise is that there is a family of ravens blessed with mystic powers, The Master is the youngest. The Master uses his power to transform men into woman for their own benefit, but he has relatives that aren’t quite so kind. The Master is always at Walgreens in Davesport with the old British guy, and a reporter for the Rising Star is investigating him. That’s the basic premise. If you would like to write a story based in the Master Universe, just e-mail me.) J

 

 

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