Prayers Are Answered

by

Caroline J Bradley

Chapter Five

γ 2003

 

The story so far…Belinda Stone has been exposed and, fearing legal proceedings, has fled to a remote rental home in rural France. New neighbours take a shine to her …….

 

Reviewing the reflection in the mirror, Jim accepted that the dyeing of his own hair had been a mistake. Whilst the breastforms and smooth skin helped with his shape and texture, the hair was wrong, but it was far too hot in the French South West to wear a wig during the day. He rang home to try to speak with his wife, Jennifer, whose identity he had "borrowed" in order to get out of the UK and away from threatened legal action, she was out and he got the answerphone instead.

"Damn," he said out loud, he had forgotten to post Jennifer's passport back to her. He realised that he missed her warmth and company and her help in performing the transition to a feminine image. Quickly donning a light sun dress over panties and bra, he slid his pedicured feet into flat strappy sandals, then he grabbed a light scarf from the dresser and tied it, somewhat inexpertly, over his head to cover the fact that his now black hair was not properly styled.

"I'll get hat, that will help," he mused as he drove to the local post office to post Jennifer's passport and then drove on to the Le Clerc supermarket to buy a hat or two. A few women looked quizzically at him as he walked through the fashion section of the store wearing a scarf as most of the other women were in shorts and skimpy t-shirts given the blistering weather. However, he found a couple of hats, one beige and one blue, in a soft slightly floppy material. The clothing racks caught his eye and he indulged in a very short denim skirt and matching bolero jacket as well as a lovely floating cotton print dress in blue. A few essential purchases of food and he checked out, enjoying the look of his manicured fingers as he forged his wife's curly signature.

In the mall leading up to the store, he spotted a women's hairdressers. Hoping to have nothing to lose, he walked up to the largely deserted salon and pretended to be reviewing their range of hair care products when a young voice trilled a welcome in French. Stammering a little whilst he brought his voice under control, he mustered schoolboy French to ask if he could have an appointment for a cut; the girl consulted her diary and stated that there was an opening right now if that would suit. Heart pounding, he nodded and was led into the salon, wrapped in a thin shawl and made to sit at a washbasin.

"Jennifer, it is you!" His heart stopped, the girl had gone and standing in front of him was Veronique, his neighbour and the key holder for the house. "This is so nice, please, take off your scarf and let me see."

Mutely, he removed the scarf, Jacqueline's eyes widened and then she broke into a broad grin. Looking about the deserted salon, Veronique moved closer and whispered into his ear,

"I knew you were not a woman, Sophie was not sure but I just knew. You look so good, but my dear, your hair, I will help only if you tell me everything!" She backed away smiling, wielding a large pair of scissors.

With a resigned sigh, Jim told the whole story. His writings as Belinda Stone, the opportunity to earn a huge sum by endorsing a cosmetics chain, the exposure and his flight to France. As the story unfolded, Veronique washed the dyed hair and started to fuss and comb and back comb before carefully cutting and shaping. Jim lapsed into silence as the hairdressing continued with more washing and chemicals before he was told to sit for a while as the chemicals did their work.

"And now, what do you want to be. What is your real name?"

"Jim,"

"Ah yes, Jeem, and the name you used in Angleterre?"

"Belinda,"

"And your wife's name?"

"Jennifer."

"How very confusing, I think I prefer Jennifer and that is the name on your passport, non?"

"Non, actually, I posted Jenni her passport this morning. It is the name on the credit card though."

" I see, I think. You like being a woman? Are you, how you say, bisexual?"

"No, er, no to bisexual. Yes, I do like being a woman, I can hide behind the faηade and relax and I think I understand women, having been Belinda."

They chatted for ages, the chemicals getting washed off and Veronique adjusting her handiwork. Then large foam curlers were teased into the hair with a finla spritz of more chemicals before he was led under the dryer to finish off the transformation.

"Voila", she showed Jim the results. His long, unkempt mousy coloured style was now a warm very dark brown with black streaks, the hair framed his face and swept down in a gentle arc to just below his chin. Soft curls kept the hair in place and it felt very fresh and relaxed.

"Thank you, " he breathed, "it's lovely."

"Now, this style should be easy to maintain but you will need to wash it regularly so that the soft perm can relax. 'opefully, if you come back in 4 week's time, we can tease it a bit more and stabilise the colour. You will need some shampoo and conditioner for permed hair and I can 'elp you to restyle it after you wash it if you like."

Jim thanked her profusely,

"Your ears, they are not pierced!"

"I know, but.."

"Non, non, it doesn't 'urt – wait 'ere a girl needs to get used to the wonderful feeling of long earrings."

Before any protests could be made, both ear lobes had been swabbed and a gun had fired small gold studs into the soft tissue of the ear lobes.

"You want more than one?" Veronique asked, smiling. Jim admired the reflection in the salon mirror and smiled back,

"No, one's enough. You know how reserved the English are?"

Veronique giggled, "Ah, uoi, but I 'ave never met an Eenglees girl quite like you before!"

They dissolved into laughter, Jim's control of his voice wavering in a mixture of relief and excitement that his new persona was growing. They chatted a bit more, Veronique insisting on a return visit in the next week to shampoo and set the new hairdo and to complete a manicure and pedicure.

The work done, they moved to the checkout and Veronique smiled as she rang up a ridiculously small sum on the till register. Jim tried to complain, but Veronique's firm hand on his manicured nails made it clear it was a treat,

"Non, this ees my salon, just the cost of the materials and I want you to be a regular customer. Now you must, no you will come over tomorrow at 6 o clock to 'ave a swim and a meal with Sophie and me, yes?"

"OK, and thank you." They kissed lightly on each cheek and Jim, feeling wonderful, swayed his "hips" wildly as he walked out of the mall feeling a million dollars.

"Now I know why Jenni spends so much time and money at the hairdressers, I feel great." He mused.

Driving back to the villa he called his wife in the UK, but just got the answerphone. So a light meal in the early evening was followed by a bottle of fresh Sauvignon and sleep beckoned. Catching sight of the hair and the glint of gold earrings at every opportunity Jim changed into a short sapphire blue nightdress and matching panties and fell into a deep sleep.

The following morning, the sun traversed the bedroom and once more touched the eyes of a dark haired woman asleep in her bed, Jim's dream was interrupted as he woke quickly, feeling his eyes matted with mascara, " must remember to remove my makeup before I collapse", he thought.

The phone rang, it was Jenni. She was sorry that she hadn't been there to talk to Jim the previous day, but business was getting hectic. She needed her passport so Jim assured her it was on the way, they chatted for a short while, Jenni seemed distant but they exchanged kisses over the 'phone and she hung up.

Jim got up, shaved close and covered the rest of his body in hair removal cream and waited for the foul smelling mixture to do its job before a vigorous shower beckoned. Thinking quickly, he covered his new coiffure with a plastic bag, making a mental note to buy one of those shower caps he had seen in the supermarket. He peeled off the breastforms, frowning at the prune like skin beneath before entering the shower and watching the few remnants of unwanted body hair swirl down the drain. A gentle pat of the soft fluffy towel and liberal application of perfumed moisturiser followed and he slipped into a short toweling wrap before returning to the bedroom.

Admiring the smooth face framed by soft hair and the glint of earrings, he carefully removed the top half of the wrap and cleansed his upper torso with alcohol wipes, smarting as the cold hit his exposed skin. A fresh spray of silicone adhesive onto the breastforms and his torso and, with some expertise borne of recent practice, he adhered the forms in place, reveling in their weight. Not wishing to lose the firm adhesion, he opened the packages from the previous shopping trips and pulled the swimsuit on, tucking his manhood into the crack of his buttocks and pulling the breastforms into place. The tightness of the swimsuit helped keep everything in its rightful position, but it was clear that the normal female cleavage was not possible. Frowning slightly, he rummaged in his wardrobe and selected a light short sleeved chiffon blouse, one of Jenni's which he could button up to above the breasts to hide the artificiality of the forms.

Carefully brushing the new hairdo, he twisted the earring studs as he had been instructed by Veronique to ensure no infection or adhesion. Then a light dusting of powder to hide the shiny reflections, a gentle mauve eyeshadow and a dab of waterproof mascara onto the ends of his lashes, he finished the job with some new pearlescent lipstick in pink.

Slipping feet into a pair of high pink mules, he tottered downstairs to a small breakfast of fruit and coffee, then to the terrace where the morning sun was already strong. Setting out a welcoming sun lounger and donning the cream hat bought the pervious day, he lay down and closed eyes in relaxation – this is the life and wow, here I am looking like a sophisticated woman sun bathing. He fell asleep again quickly, waking up and hour later to the first prickles of sunburn – quickly entering the house, he realised he had not put on the sun screen. Well, no more sunbathing without risking a severe burn, he went back into the house and proceeded to try to get back to writing – even if the great British public did not want to hear from Belinda Stone, he needed to write!

His manicured hands flew over the keyboard of the laptop as he told the story of his flight to France and the excitement of a new life being Belinda full time. He wondered where the article would lead, but just let his thoughts flow into the machine without heed as to the eventual target audience. A couple of hours later the 'phone rang, it was Veronique remindeing him of the promise of earier and stating that dinner was at eight, but to arrive at six with swimwear and a change of clothes. He had no choice but to agree,

"Tell me dear," Veronique's smiling voice trilled down the 'phone, "what shall Sphie and I call you?"

He thought for a moment, "Belinda is the name I have used for a long time, you can call me Bel."

"A Bientot! Bel," Veronique cried and hung up.

Six, God that was only an hour away. Oh well, nothing to lose, he kicked off his sandals and ran upstairs to the bathroom to check hair and makeup as well as his legs, arms and torso for unwanted body hair. Not entirely satisfied, he stripped off the swimwear and, standing naked in front of the mirror, he cleansed off the light makeup and, using a fresh razor, shaved his face very closely. Finally satsified, he took some wide flesh coloured gaffer tape from a roll and cut it to about 10" (4cm) then carefully arranged his penis between his legs, he stretched the tape over the organ and secured it to front and back, wincing in anticipation of the pain it would cause when he had to rip it off.

He pulled the swimsuit back on, pleased with the flat front the adhesive tape had given him and the swell of his breastforms, shame about the obvious nature of the forms though. Then into the bedroom for a light brush of waterproorf mascara in a light blue and a light blue eyeshadow, soft peach lipstick and a simple dusting of powder. He examined finger and toenails for chips and touched up a few which were showing signs of wear. Minimal jewellery followed, just a gold necklace and one ring, then he picked out sheer blue panties and matching bra to go under the new floral print dress bought earlier. Putting these in a carrier bag with a simple hangbag full of lipstick and makeup essentials, he got a fresh towel from the linen cupboard and pulled the light short-sleeved chiffon bouse back on and placed a soft hat on his head before slipping feet into the sandals and wandering downstairs. Grabbing a bottle of wine and the car keys, he check his reflection in the mirror and closed the door.

Two mintues later, he pulled the car up behind the wall of Veronique and Sophie's house. Before he could knock on the door, it opened and he was enveloped in a warm embrace from Veronique who pulled him inside quickly and released him in front of a Sophie who was wearing a very quizzical expression.

"Well, my dear,Vernoique has told me everything and I must say I thought you might be a man but you do look very good, I love the swimsuit, come into the garden." Sophie proffered and elegant hand and led the party onto a broad paved area into which was set and azure pool big enough for serious swimming. Jim's eyes opened in awe at the view from the pool across the valley – it was stunning.

"Here," Veronique handed over a chilled glass, it was champagne, their eyes met and Jim saw amusement and interest before Sophie broke the reverie.

"Shall we toast to women?" Jim laughed and they raised their glasses, "your name is now Belinda, Bel now?"

"Yes, I guess I better explain.." they moved to sit on three smart wooden recliners in the shade of a fig tree as Jim explained Belinda to a silent but interested Sophie. After he had finished there was silence.

"So," Sophie stated, "I see. But your wife, Jennifer, she is still in the UK, no?"

"Yes, she has a job and is finding it difficult to get out here," Jim was wondering where the questioning was going,

"No matter, I am warm please, try our pool."

Jim set his glass down, took off the hat and chiffon blouse and slowly walked to the pool edge, it was very inviting. He stepped down the tiled steps into the warm water and, once the water got to his waist, he pushed off into the water. The unfamiliar weght of the silicone breastforms was accentuated in the prone position forcing a very awkward breaststroke, he heard laughter.

"Bel, " shouted Veronique, "please do not drown, natural breasts are normally bouyant!"

Veronique and Sophie joined him in the pool and they swam and floated and chatted. Sophie got out and brought three inflatable chairs to the pool and after much laughter as he failed to master the balance needed to stay on one of the beds, they gave up and returned to the poolside.

Jim relaxed in the company of the two French women and the early evening wore on as they chatted, mostly about Belinda's exploits in the UK. Sophie disappeared from time to time and then announced that dinner would be ready in 30 minutes or so if they wanted to change out of the swimwear. Jim was now feeling uncomfortable as the water had loosened the gaffer tape under his groin and he needed to visit the bathroom. Veronique led him with his bag to a guest bedroom which had its own bathroom.

Stripping quickly, he pulled off the gaffer tape, wincing at the enforced hair removal and, ablutions completed, he dried himself fully on his towel taking advantage of perfumed talcs in the bathroom to ensure all was dry. Rearranging his male attributes between his legs, he pulled on the fresh panties and settled his breastforms into the matching bra. Pulling the cotton dress over his hair, he shuffled his manicure feet into sandals and sat at the vanity table to brush out his new hair which swiftly fell into place. Taking out the makeup bag, he expertly applied subtle shades to his eyelids, retouched his mascara and applied a fine loose powder before a swift flick of blusher and two layers of deep red lipstick. A final twirl of the new stud earrings, a check of finger nail varnish and a spritz of perfume and he felt very, very good.

Tripping downstairs to the sound of mid heels on stone stairs, he was greeted by Spohie who had changed into a long white shift dress which made it absolutely clear that there was not much underneath it.

"Ah, mon cherie, you look so cool like an elegant English rose." She pecked Jim's cheek and took his manicured hand as she led him into the dining room.

 

The table was littered with salads, breads, meats and bottles of wine. The two French women sat near each other and beckoned Jim to sit opposite.

"You know that Sophie and I are lovers?" Veronique said in a direct tone,

"I wasn't sure," Jim responded, feeling suddenly a little nervous,

"It's just that we have been talking and we would like to make a proposition to you. But first let us eat."

They ate in silence, Jim intrigued by their proposition, but enjoying the delicious food and the soft supple local wine. He relaxed in the warm summer's evening, occasionally catching glimpses of himself in the large mirror over the table, a simply dressed but sophisticated woman smiling back at her reflection, the new earrings glinting in the candlelight.

Remembering to preserve his figure in the soft folds of the dress, he refused dessert and agreed to a small coffee and a cognac. They retired to the sitting room as darkness fell and Veronique ignited a small welcoming log fire.

"Well, Belinda, we shall call you that I think, no?" Sophie raised her glass, Jim responded,

"Thank you for the delicious meal, now what is your proposition?"

Veronique and Sophie exchanged glances, eventually Veronique spoke,

"May I ask you some personal questions?" Jim inclined his head, feeling the earrings move as he did so.

"Sophie and I have been together for 5 years and we love our life here, but we yearn to share it." Jim looked startled, the women laughed, "oh non, not with you much as I think you look very pretty. Do you 'ave children with your wife?"

"Er, no, why?"

"Ah, that is a shame. May we ask why?"

"Why do you want to know?" Jim began to get uneasy.

 

"Well, you see we would like children as well, but as you can see that is impossible as we are both women and, we had hoped that as you are a man who wants to look like a woman and we enjoy women, so, maybe, we could seek an arrangement?"

Jim's mascaraed eyes widened.

"I see, and you want me to er, .."

Sophie laughed, but Veronique seemed very unhappy.

"Well, for what it is worth, Jenni, my wife, had ovarian cancer early on in our marriage and the chemotherapy rendered her sterile. We have no idea if I am fertile."

"Would you consent to a fertility test, are you taking female hormones at all?"

"Oh, no, I enjoy dressing and acting female but I have never taken anything like that."

"Good, then we could 'ave a sperm test, oui?"

"I guess so, but what about…"

"Do not worry, Sophie is a lawyer and she will draw up a contract that will absolve you of any responsibility. We just want to be able to give our love to a small human being and, we are asking you to 'elp us. We have taken to you ever since you first arrived and Sophie knew you were a man right away, we immediately began to think of this as an answer to our dreams. After all, you are a fine looking woman and we could have some fun trying for a baby"

Sophie smiled, "will you help, Belinda? Please?"

Jim smiled, the prospect of lesbian sex with these two lovelies was more than he had ever dreamed of and he felt his penis stiffen in the confines of his panties.

"OK, how do you want to proceed?" Veronique shrieked and kissed Jim firmly on the lips, Sophie jumped up and held her tight.

"I think we should agree a time and place, I 'ave been with a man before, but it was a long time ago. We should meet again once the legals are drawn up and the time is right."

"Right?"

"Silly, when I am ovulating" Sophie smiled, so it was to be Sophie who would be the mother Jim thought.

The rest of the evening passed in rapid chatter as all three engaged in talking, the French women asking about Jim, Jenni and Belinda; Jim, emboldened by the cognac, asking about their lesbian exploits. They parted late in the evening with a promise to drop a draft contract around in the afternoon and to set a date.

Jim awoke with a start as the sound of car tyres on gravel broke the quiet reverie of a early morning in South West France. Stepping out of bed in a soft cotton nightdress his manicured fingers ran through the short hair and caught briefly in the long earrings.

"must remember to take them out before I go to bed." He mused as he tripped downstairs his red painted toenails shimmering against the stone flags. Opening the front door, he picked up a small parcel and a bundle of letters with a few junk mail items, the weather was warm and the sun had already warmed up the small front patio enough that he decided to sit there and enjoy the rays as he reviewed the post.

The parcel was from England, from Jenny. It contained his English passport and a second passport in Belinda Stone's name, opening up the red passport, he squealed with delight as it contained a very good photograph of him as Belinda obviously taken during the photo shoots for the Jo Malone cosmetics scam that had caused him to run to France. In addition to the passports was a long, legal looking document with a note attached "Read this first" in his wife's handwriting. He did what he was told.

 

"Hi love,

Not sure if I should call you Jim or Belinda. You still full time as Bel? Sorry we haven't spoken much, I have been so busy with work and the Press still comes around a bit to try to get to talk to me about you. Our mutual friend has weaved his magic and as a gesture he got the passport of Belinda for you, so you can be legal – don't ask how he got it.

The paperwork is a legal settlement from Jo Malone. They don't want any more publicity and are prepared to drop all the charges if you agree never to write again as Belinda Stone. There's nothing stopping you changing your nom-de-plume but they insist on protecting their name. Our lawyer thinks this is OK – read it and see what you think. If it is all OK, then you could come home (perhaps after a while to allow the dust to settle) – I am missing your company here.

How's Cazideroque, sounds lovely but I guess you may be getting a bit lonely. Not really possible to make too many friends if you have to keep up the pretence of being Belinda I suppose? Must dash to get this in the post, I'll call you soon,

Love

Jenny

PS, found the enclosed in your wardrobe!"

 

Behind the sheaf of documents was a small package which, on opening, spilled out a woman's diamond engagement ring and gold band. Jim remembered that, as a 10^th wedding anniversary present he had bought Jenny a new set of platinum rings and she had given their first set to him to have altered for his hands so that, when he was Belinda, he remembered that he was still married to her. Jim smiled and slipped the rings onto his left hand.

The rest of the mail was normal junk, so he walked inside the house and put the coffee on before running a shower to perform the daily routine of hair removal and freshening up.

Later that morning, sitting beneath a wide parasol on the back patio, dressed in a simple cotton dress with a light brush of mascara and gold studs in newly – pierced ears, Jim adjusted his sunglasses as his elegantly manicure and painted nails traced the details of the draft contract he had received this morning. It seemed reasonable; after all, the chances of Belinda Stone getting an agony aunt column in a British newspaper seemed remote. There were a few bits of the contract which were unclear, but a call to the legal team sorted them out and he instructed them to proceed.

Veronique called on the 'phone to tell him that the documents they discussed yesterday would take a few days to complete so she would call again when they were ready to discuss. Jim called home in England, but just got the answering machine on which he left a message thanking Jenny for the parcel and asking her to call him that evening.

"Hi love..," the phone crackled in Jim's hands as he spoke at last with Jenni, "how are you doing?"

"Just fine, things are very nice here and the post this morning gave some nice surprises."
"The passport and the contract arrived then?"
"Yes, and I am so grateful, saves the embarrassment if I am asked for ID."

"You full time as Belinda, then?"

"I am, and I must admit I am enjoying it. I have made some good friends as Bel and they know about Jim and are very supportive."
"Yes…..," Jenni's voice sounded intrigued

"Too complicated to explain over the 'phone, when can I see you?"

"You've got me interested, all is much more quiet here, let me see and I'll call you."

They chatted for a further 20 minutes about Jenni's work and how their friends were keeping then Jenni rang off promising to check out when she could come over to France.

The afternoon turned into a cool evening and Jim changed into a warm pair of jeans and a jumper. His routine still ensured he brushed his hair, checked makeup and made a mental note to bathe in the morning to remove tell tale signs of hair growing on legs and underarms. He settled on a light salmon salad and a glass of local white wine before settling in front of the TV to watch the news in French. Moments later the 'phone rang, it was Veronique.

"Bel, ma cherie, we 'ave a friend who is also a doctor. She 'as agreed to see you first thing tomorrow and get a sample to check your fertility. She say you must not drink alcohol for at least 12 hours – is that OK?"

Jim gazed wistfully at the remnant of the bottle of wine on the table.

"Sure, I have had one glass at about 8 o'clock, so I should be OK."

"Very good, then go to bed early and I will collect you tomorrow at say 8.30."

Jim sighed, agreed and switched off the TV. He shut down the house and walked upstairs, turning into the bathroom to run a bath. He took off the jeans and jumper, returning to check the bath in bra and panties, adding a softly perfumed gel to the bathwater he sat on the bath edge and opened a bottle of varnish remover proceeding to use cotton buds to remove the deep red, but now cracking, nail varnish from toes and fingers. He then checked his legs and arms before deciding to simply use a ladies razor to cut off the rogue hairs, making a mental note to ask Veronique or Sophie for advice on more permanent removal techniques. He stepped out of the panties and removed the matching bra; wincing slightly, he peeled off the breastforms and massaged the chest below before sinking into the welcoming bubbles of the bath and gently removing leg and arm hairs. An hour later, warmed and cleansed, he stepped into a blue baby doll nightie and fell into bed, setting the alarm for 7.30 the following morning.

Veronique smiled and kiss Jim on his cheek.

"Ah, I should have told you Janine is very liberal, she would be 'appy to see you as Bel."

Jim had wondered what to dress as for this visit but had decided to go as androgynously as possible with loose fitting trousers and shirt with no makeup or varnish and with no earrings. He felt confused, neither Bel nor Jim, and he really missed the feel of his breastforms. As the only concession to his desire to be feminine, he wore a pair of black French knickers under the trousers.

They drove silently through the French countryside, Jim feeling increasingly nervous as he realized the import of what he was about to do. Sensing his concern, Veronique smiled reassuringly at him as their tyres crunched on the gravel drive of a smart building in its own, sumptuous grounds. Veronique led the way into a brightly lit reception area where she rattled off some very quick French and they were ushered into a smaller waiting area. Eventually, a stunning beautiful blonde walked into the room, Jim stood instinctively and Veronique kissed the incomer on both cheeks.

"Bel, or is it Jim? Meet Janine." Veronique smiled at Jim's obvious discomfort.

"Bonjour," whispered Janine, "nice to meet you. The doctor rapidly moved into professional mode and explained what was about to happen – which was fairly straightforward. Veronique smiled encouragement and Jim walked nervously into a small room clutching a sample bottle. The next few minutes were not at all easy; he tried to think of something to turn himself on, that failing he looked around for stimulation but there were just magazines for cars or cameras. He tried every sort of manipulation, but to no avail. Eventually, there was a polite knock at the door,

"Bel, are you OK?" It was Veronique.

"Er, yes, this isn't easy you know." Jim heard a stifled laugh. A few more failed attempts later, there was another knock at the door.

"Jim, it is Janine, I am a good friend of Veronique, may I come in?"

Embarrassed, Jim acquiesced and the blonde beauty entered the room. She smiled at him and looked at the empty sample bottle,

"Can I 'elp?"

Jim shrugged and then smiled as she quickly took off her white coat to reveal a very skimpy pair of panties and a matching balcony bra which barely held her full breasts. She walked over to Jim and pulled off his shirt and trousers, smiling when she saw the black French knickers.

"Very pretty, how about we swap clothes?"

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled off her panties and bra and handed them to Jim, pointing to his black apparel. Jim quickly pulled off the underwear and handed it to Janine, she smiled at his growing penis. He pulled on the very tight panties and tried, unsuccessfully, to get into the bra but it was far too small. Janine took the initiative and guided him to lie on the small table; she stood over him clad only in his black underwear, her breasts proudly jutting out over him. She leant down and freed his stiffening penis from the tight confines of the white panties and ran her long fingernails up and down the shaft. Jim groaned and felt his penis engorge,

"Tres bien, Jim, now let us do this for Sophie and Veronique." Janine grabbed his hard member and began to pump him rhythmically. Jim closed his eyes in pleasure and felt the tensions and passions of the last few weeks wash from him. Very quickly he could feel his climax approaching and he stayed Janine's urgent hands. She smiled at him as he rolled off the table and stood, his engorged member jutting strongly out from the pure white panties.

"OK, you hold the bottle and I will help you fill it!" Janine smiled and Jim obeyed as she redoubled her efforts. Soon he grunted hard and grabbed her hand as he pushed the head of his penis into the mouth of the bottle, ejaculating strongly as white fluid ran into the sterile receptacle. He reverentially closed the lid and handed it to Janine. She kissed him gently on the cheek and picked up her bra, fastening it in front before twisting it around and nestling her gorgeous breasts into its welcoming embrace. Jim went to remove the panties,

"Non, mon cher, you keep those as a souvenir and I will keep these." Janine smiled as she tapped Jim's French knickers, buttoned up the white coat and, slipping the warm sample bottle into a pocket, she walked out of the room. Jim dressed and sheepishly joined Veronique who kissed him again on the cheek and they drove back to the farmhouse in relative silence.

"Bel, thank you for this. Sophie and I appreciate this so much. As a thank you, I have arranged for the salon to be free tomorrow after 4 o'clock. Can you come then and we will give you a fantastic beauty treatment."

Jim readily agreed.

The following morning, Jim was awoken by the bedside 'phone.

"Bel, Jim, it's Jenni, I am on this afternoon's flight – can you pick me up from at 6 o'clock?"

"Sure, that's great, see you then."

Jim fell out of bed, oh God, what to do? He looked at his reflection in the mirror seeing a disheveled woman in need of a brush in her hair, her makeup mussed and yet still looking good in a black nightie. The 'phone rang again.

"Bel, Sophie, you OK for this afternoon?"

"What, oh yes, er, listen I need help, Jenni my wife arrives at 6."

"Mon dieu, wait," the line went quiet, "we will be there in 20 minutes, get dressed in a simple dress and no makeup."

Jim agreed and ran a quick shower, removed his makeup and slipped into a soft yellow sundress, brushed his hair and waited for the car. The whirlwind that was Sophie and Veronique on a mission arrived moments later. They drove manically into town, Sophie ran off as Veronique opened the salon and swiftly cancelled a number of appointments. Jim was rushed into treatment rooms to have even more painful waxings and sculptings. Sore but very smooth, Jacquie, Veronique's assistant, applied gels and volumisers to his slowly growing locks changing them to blonde with dark highlights. Then, when almost dry, she started to knot long hair extensions until his hair was shoulder length and a curly permed streaky blonde. Next the false nails were taken off and replaced with longer talons wrapped in a strong smelling acrylic and painted blood red. Next toe nails were shaped and matched and the sexiest makeup Jim had ever seen made his face look sultry and alluring. A final spritz with perfume and he was handed long dangly earrings and a matching bracelet by Sophie, who smiled and pointed to an armful of shopping with designer labels.

The day was rapidly running out as Jim tried on dress, suit and trouser combinations trying his best not to mark the clothes with his makeup or to muss hair or varnished nails.

Eventually, the agreed on a very smart cream trouser suit with a darker silk camisole and cream 3" sandals. The other purchases were whisked away and final touches were made to makeup, hair and nail varnish.

"Voila, Bel, you look beautiful." Sophie smiled,

"Veronique, Sophie, how can I ever thank you?"

"You know the answer to that, Janine called earlier, your count is very good," Sophie squealed and all three girls hugged.

"Now, Bel, you better go and get Jenni, she will be surprised, no?"

Jim drove carefully in the new heels, marveling at the occasional glances he had of himself in the mirror and the feel of the sheer fabric of his trousers on his waxed legs. Arriving early at the airport terminal, he parked up and entered the small terminal, ordering a small cappuccino from the cafι. The small plane landed from the UK and he saw Jenni disembark, moments later she walked into the arrivals room and she looked around. Jim decided to stay seated and watch as Jenni searched the waiting people before walking outside to look out at the arriving traffic. Jim could no longer control himself, he took a compact out of his handbag and checked makeup and hair, touching up his lipstick, then walked carefully out to stand beside Jenni, who turned and smiled at him, then her eyes widened,

"My God, Bel, you look fabulous!"

They embraced and kissed, drawing disapproving looks from the other remaining passengers, then holding hands then walked to the car, Jenni gazing at her husband in disbelief as he walked primly in heels, his long blonde hair flowing in the breeze, his manicured nails glinting in the French sunlight as his smile played on ruby red lips.

On the drive back to the house, Jim chatted animatedly about all that had happened in the weeks since he had fled from the UK. His eyes on the road, he did not notice the smile spreading across Jenni's face as she gazed in admiration and disbelief at the attractive blonde woman her husband now seemed. They reached the house quickly and after a perfunctory tour and the pouring of a glass of chilled wine, Jenni finally managed to break into the monologue.

"Bel, I have never seen you so happy or so excited. Your new friends have obviously helped you look and feel as fabulous as you are, you make me feel a downright dowdy English woman. Almost any girl I know would kill to look half as good as you do. What does this mean, do you think?"

"Sorry, don't follow you." Jim was openly confused, a long elegant finger playing with his earring.

"Come on love, I have always known how important being Bel is to you, is what I am seeing here what you want to become full time?"

"I honestly don't know. I feel liberated, I love how I look and how I feel and, yes, I adore wearing the clothes that I can now wear. But I am not sure what you are getting at."

"Jim, I can't call you Jim what you look like that; Bel, I think we need to talk about our future as man and wife."

"Go on."

"This is hard for me. I have always loved you and admired you and, yes, even when it became clear to me that Bel was more than just a fantasy figure who you liked to dress up as. I am very pleased that you have found Bel and that she can look so good now, your early attempts were, to say the least, embarrassing. Now, no-one would suspect who you really are and most men would want to get into your panties – but then they'd get a shock wouldn't they?" Jenni smiled and Jim looked uncomfortable.

"I am a woman and I need a man to look after me, I am not sure about living with someone who is neither one thing nor another. Can you understand that?"

Jenni had a small tear forming in her eye; Jim passed her a tissue from Jim's handbag,

"I can understand, what do you want me to do, I love you and I will get rid of Bel if that would make things right."

"Love, I don't want you to make such a sacrifice for me, I could try to live with the fact of Bel – I have lived with that but, well, since you have been away I have had time to think and to talk with someone."

"Who?" Jim was instantly suspicious,

"David"

"David, my publisher? What's going on?"

"Oh love, I am so sorry I had to come out and tell you, we have become lovers."

 

Jim was stunned, a tear forming in his eyes, "David, and you, why?"

"I can't explain it, you being away, me alone and knowing you were having fun as Belinda; he was helpful and friendly and, well, you know."

"No I don't actually." Jim felt his anger rising and controlled it with a strong effort.

"Darling, I am so sorry but I had to tell you. I don't know what to do except to be honest and talk to you like we always have done." She smiled wanly and moved to embrace her husband, Jim backed away.

"I am not sure, this is a blow and I need to think. Let's get something to eat and relax, Ill change into something more comfortable and you can unpack and freshen up and we can talk some more."

Jenni emitted a low sob and ran upstairs; Jim felt completely confused, not sure whether to run after her, stay put, get changed, take off the women's clothing or what. He opted to stay put and relaxed when he heard the shower running. He quickly went upstairs and changed into the simple yellow sun dress, touched up his makeup and brushed his hair, taking care with the long extensions. He fixed a light supper of cheese and bread and wine and laid it all out on the patio where the sun was slowly setting over the valley.

Jenni appeared, also in a light floral dress and they smiled at each other, she took the proffered wine and they both dug into the food, eating silently.

"I love what they have done to your hair, those extensions?"

"Yes, only put in today so I am not used to them really."

"Nice dress."

"Yes, bought it locally, there are some good shops as well as LeClerc."

The small talk continued and they relaxed more in each others' company. No more mention was made of Jenni's revelation of her infidelity but then Jim had not mentioned his experience at the sperm testing clinic either. They chatted and Jim regaled her of the experiences he has had as Belinda in France; it was getting late and Jenni stifled a yawn.

"Come on, time for bed." He ushered Jenni upstairs and completed the ritual of closing the house down for the night. Not entirely sure what to do next, Jim slipped out of the sun dress and removed the light bra and panties, changing into a soft peach satin nightie with matching panties. He carefully removed makeup and earrings and brushed his long hair, taking care with the extensions. Checking in the mirror, his ritual continued with cleansers and night creams, examining his long nails for tell-tale chips in the varnish he removed the rings, keeping on his marriage band. He turned as he heard a noise from the bedroom door; Jenni was standing there in a simple cotton night dress devoid of makeup.

"I am jealous, you look better than most women I know and you certainly take care of your appearance." She smiled, "Jim, I don't know what to say or do any more. Can I come to bed with you just for a cuddle?"

Jim smiled and finished applying the last drops of night cream, stood and with the nightgown gliding over the floor, went over to Jenni and took her hand, guiding her to the bed. They lay together in each others' arms, Jim fighting the desire to make love to her. Jenni was asleep in an instant, but Jim's mind was whirring over the consequences of the day's revelations; what was going to happen to them, how did he feel about being Belinda full time, did he want a sex change?? It was all too much and, after what seemed like hours he gently rolled Jenni over and slipped out of bed.

The night was warm and clear and he opened the front door to breathe in the heady aromas from the flowers deep in the valley below. Jim was restless and felt that he needed to get out to clear his head, so he quietly slipped upstairs and, with Jenni's prostrate form unmoving on the bed, he quickly grabbed his handbag, underwear, a light t-shirt and cardigan and a pair of jeans. Back downstairs, he slipped into bra and panties, pulled on the t-shirt and jeans and wrapped the sleeves of the cardigan around his neck. Another careful brush of his long hair and an automatic swipe of lipstick, he pulled on a pair of stout walking shoes making a mental note to buy a more feminine pair and then walked out of the house into a brilliant night full of stars but with no moon.

Over to the car, he pulled the key out of his handbag and opened the door, got in and released the handbrake, allowing the slope of the hill to take the car slowly to the bottom before firing up the engine. He drove carefully along the deserted country roads enjoying the wind through the open window when a deer broke cover from the left and he almost hit the animal. He braked sharply and the car skidded a little on the gravel, finally coming to a halt partially in a ditch. Regaining his composure, he restarted the stalled engine and engaged gear, but to no avail, the nearside wheels were in a deep rut and there was no traction to be had.

"Damn." He got out of the car, examined his predicament with the torch he always kept in the glove compartment and realized the car was not for moving. He mentally retraced his route back to the villa and decided it was walkable; however, his handbag was devoid of his mobile phone, so he had no choice but to walk back.

The night air was a little chilly now, a breeze had sprung up, and so he pulled on the cardigan and increased his walking pace to generate some body heat. The roads and countryside looked different as a pedestrian but he walked briskly on, but he could feel his hairless arms getting cold and his satin smooth thighs were also feeling the impact of the cool night air. He checked in his handbag for a pair of tights without success, so he redoubled his walking speed, adjusting his bra straps tighter to try to minimize the bounce of his silicone breastforms.

He was getting out of breath and getting colder, this was not good and his torch was starting to lose power. "Shit", he thought, and looked around for somewhere to stop. The meagre beam of the torch, together with the reflected star light, picked out the ghostly outline of an old church or abbey. He made his way along the remnants of a path off the road, finding himself eventually at some crumbling walls and a small door which had seen better days. Pushing it open, he had the first luck of the evening (and the last!) as the door gave way into a dark dank room. He pushed the door closed to shut out the wind and involuntarily shivered. With the torch light fading he explored deeper into the room, discovering more doors and rooms but no sign of people or any form of heat. It was about the fifth or sixth room he had entered when the floor gave way and he fell; that was the last he remembered…

Hours….days, he did not know when he awoke and in severe pain. His left leg was throbbing and he ached all over. It was completely pitch black and he could see absolutely nothing. He reached out with his hands, feeling the rough surface of rocks and debris. He tried to move but his body screamed in pain, he tried calling out and heard his voice echo as if from within a huge hall. Where was he?

He knew that he must have lapsed into unconsciousness because, when he woke, he felt stiffer in his joints but in less pain and his mouth was incredibly dry. What to do? He tried to sit up and, with a grunt, successfully raised his torso, his hair cascaded in front of his face and he brushed it to one side, tasting dried blood on his lips. There was still no light but he tried to crawl forward on hands and knees, wincing as his scratched and torn hands felt gingerly over stones and obstacles. His legs were fine, thank God, the ankle of his left leg hurt like hell, but he didn't think anything was broken. He had to get out of wherever he was and he really needed a drink of something. Crawling forward his hand touched the torch, that was lucky! He pushed the switch, but nothing, the batteries must have failed or the bulb broke. Concentrating in the dark, his hands shaking, he unscrewed the top of the torch – all felt OK and, yes, a spare bulb in the head of the unit. Carefully so as not to drop anything, he removed the old bulb and with delicate movements, replaced the new bulb; reassembling the torch and switching it on delivered a pale light.

With great care he swung the torch around to reveal a very large room full of shelves and what seemed like large glass jars. Mindful of the failing torch, he quickly hobbled to a nearby desk and switch off the light as his hands rummaged over the desk surface and into drawers which seemed full of papers. A lamp fell under his probing fingers and smashed on the floor, must be more careful. More feeling and probing and opening doors to nearby cupboards revealed more paper and some odd apparatus in glass; then what felt like an old rusty unit on top of a gas cylinder – maybe he was in luck! His hands felt over the mechanism and he risked some of the failing battery life, yes a big gas cylinder with something on top of it, he looked carefully and saw it was indeed a sort of free standing gas heater and it had its own firing mechanism. With some trepidation, he turned off the torch and pushed the lever – a spark erupted into the heater! Excited, he prayed that the cylinder was not empty and then opened the valve pushing the lever vigorously, with "whumph" the heater ignited and started to glow orange – Jim emitted a whimper of delight. He opened the gas valve and relished the increasing glow and heat – he had forgotten how cold he was!

The warm glow from the fire partially illuminated the room, which was very dusty and housed some desks and cupboards which his stumbling had disturbed, and row upon row of glass jars full of a light amber fluid alongside which were clearly chemical synthesis equipment. Further down the room were more gas cylinders chained to a wall and a huge chest freezer against the wall; he could sense more space beyond the glow of the heater. He was still very thirsty, but nothing seemed to hand except the glassware and the amber fluid; he limped up to one of the jars and, taking a beaker, opened the tap to allow some of the fluid to run into the beaker. Carefully brining it up to his nose, it smelt a little but tasted quite strongly of urine – he was so thirsty; he wrinkled his nose and drank the lot, repeating the action four times.

Momentarily sated, he explored the area more fully and found electrical switches, none of which seemed to work, and more storage areas one of which was full of what seemed to be nun's habits. Sensing the cold, he pulled one long garment over his torn jeans and cardigan, it felt damp so he brought a few more over to the fire and laid them on chairs to dry out. Now energized, he started looking for food; he had found warmth and a sort of water so he needed food to survive. The chest freezer seemed logical and it took all of his strength and a nearby metal stay to prize it open. It was full of frozen (or rather previously frozen) foodstuffs all of which had defrosted long ago but, because of the sealed nature of the freezer, had not gone completely rotten. He scrabbled at the packages, noticing his broken fingernails with cracked and worn varnish, opening the first and trying a bite of what seemed like dried meat – it wasn't too bad.

His searches continued over the next few hours, finding hordes of black lace shoes, damp but serviceable and sensible women's underwear and more jars of the fluid, but no obvious route out of the room except for the collapsed roof area through which he had fallen, which was full to the top with rubble. Feeling tired and getting cold again, he returned to the heater and pulled off the woolen habit and his torn jeans, t-shirt and cardigan. His bra strap had broken and one of the breastforms was coming off, so he removed both of them and dressed in layers of the cotton underwear and a new woolen dress which had now dried in front of the heat. He pulled on a pair of thick black tights and laced up a pair of the black shoes – that felt warm and comfortable so he sat down in the chair and was promptly asleep.

Hours later he awoke to semi darkness, the gas cylinder had burned out but the fire still glowed. He quickly connected a new cylinder from the stash against the wall and rekindled the flame – he would need to conserve this valuable resource so he took down a number of the glass jars and proceeded to disassemble the wooden trestles on which they sat to create a proper wood fire – there was plenty of material and he soon had a warm fire in the centre of the room. He drank more of the amber fluid and ate sparingly of the semi hard dried meats; he knew this had to be temporary – he had to find a way out.

Time (he had no idea of day or night) passed slowly as he found more stores of dried fruits and yet more glass jars. He had gotten used to the sharp flavour of the fluid but he knew water was very important. He had examined every nook and cranny in the room, there was no obvious way out, but air must be seeping into the room for the fires to work but, her surmised, the room may have been hermetically sealed (hence little rot) – the seal being broken when he fell in all those days (or was it weeks?) ago. So, maybe, the only way out was back the way he had come. He had given up on any form of rescue, Jenni would have eventually raised the alarm and they may well have found the car in the ditch but he had walked miles from that point, but he hoped that someone was still looking.

He felt stronger now and had ensured he ate as well as he could and drunk as much of the fluid as he could stomach. He had also found some journals in one of the storage areas, written in a clear feminine hand in French. His rudimentary grasp of the written language allowed him to work through what was clearly an inventory of the glass jars and analyses of their contents without understanding exactly what this was. The cover and some memoranda made it clear to him that this used to be some form of nunnery and the nuns were collecting this fluid for processing and onward sale. The last entry seemed to be in the early 1960's.

He set himself a routine, waking and drink the fluid before restocking the fire from the embers and then toileting in a far corner of the room behind some cupboards. Then a snack from the food store, more fluid and then an hour or so's work to move the rubble and to construct a stairway of sorts from blocks to allow him access to the roof some 10 metres above. He continued to feel fairly well, his hands were ravaged by the work and his skin felt very dirty – he had tried to wash in the amber fluid but the stench was unbearable. His skin felt tough although he was surprised that his beard growth was very minimal and certainly his body hair had hardly regrown. He had felt lethargic for a number of days and his nipples were very sore which he had blamed on the woolen fabric of the dress material.

Days went by until his makeshift pile was capable of ascent to the roof; he needed to be extra vigilant once he tried to remove the blocks closing off the hole through which he had fallen. The painstaking process of loosening heavy blocks and getting them out of the way whilst debris kept falling was tiring and very dusty. He drank copious quantities of the fluid and the process took much longer; looking back he realised that this phase must have taken six to eight weeks of almost constant effort.

Eventually, his hands reached through a gap and felt nothing but open space. He redoubled his efforts and pulled enough material aside to be able to look through the gap. It was pitch dark in there but maybe it was one of the rooms he had stumbled through before falling. The subsequent days were spent widening the opening and bringing up wood and kindling materials to enable a fire to be lit once he could get into the room.

After having planned the next phase carefully, he slept for what he hoped was the last time in his dungeon. Waking, he drank plenty of fluid, filling the pockets of a new dress with sealed bottles of the precious drink and some food. He tied a knapsack full of more fluid and food and, brandishing a glowing ember from the fire, climbed the rock pile and squeezed himself and the meager possessions through into the room, pushing the ember into the waiting fire which took immediately. Jim saw a closed room with a small door at one end, walking carefully – he had lost a lot of weight in the deep recesses of the building and he did not want to fall though another floor – he pulled the door open and his fire glowed into another room casting his long shadow. There was no sign of any light anywhere! He took a piece of burning wood and walked to the next door, and the next – no light at all!

Eventually he smelt a warm damp odour – it was rain!! He pulled open the last door and pushed his burning wood into the air, it was almost immediately snuffed out by a torrential downpour, Jim fell into the open, reveling in the warm soft rain – no wonder he could see nothing, it was nighttime! Relieved and exhilarated, he held himself from running out into the dark – he did not want to lose the work he had done, so he went back to the burning fire in the building and fell asleep in front of the glow, waiting for dawn.

Dawn broke and the unfamiliar light filtering under the door made Jim wince and screw up his eyes. Staggering into the unfamiliar brightness, he raised his hands to the sky and whooped with delight. Running through the thick undergrowth surrounding the derelict building which had been his prison for these endless days, he spied a river and kicking off shoes and pulling off the woolen dress he jumped into the cool clear stream up to his waist and vigorously rubbed the grime from hands and face and hair. Removing the vestiges of clothing and seeing his body for the first time in ages, he was surprised at the shrinkage in his penis and testicles – they had almost disappeared! In addition, he had definite swellings on his chest – small but definite breasts, what had happened?? A sound broke his reverie; it was a car driving along the nearby road! He quickly jumped from the river pulling the woolen dress over his head and ran to the road, he had missed it but he recalled roughly where he was. Back to the river side and donning some shoes, he walked back along the road and tried, unsuccessfully, to flag down a passing vehicle. Eventually one stopped and, in halting French, he asked for help. The driver, a woman, was obviously shocked at his appearance and drove him quickly to a doctor's surgery in the local town.

He was seen immediately and then all hell broke loose, an ambulance was called and he was whisked to the nearby hospital where they quizzed him on who he was and where he had been. He was given sedatives and allowed to rest and eat when he could, this seemed to take minutes but Jim learned later that he was sedated for almost a week whilst they rehydrated him.

He told them he was called Jim and asked to be able to contact his wife, but the phone number he gave them was no longer in use. Eventually, an efficient female doctor ushered everyone out of his room and two nurses came in to help him clean up and have a luxuriant bath. He saw himself in the mirror just as he stepped in the bath and for the first time in ages he was shocked at the sight of a gaunt drawn face, waist - long dark filthy hair. He was equally shocked at the small pert breasts, wide hips and absence of male genitalia that reflected back at him.

Bath over and hair cleansed and wrapped in a towel, he accepted a cotton nightdress and panties and a warm toweling robe from the nurses who seemed unfazed by his appearance. They quickly left when the female doctor entered.

"Ah, Jim, you have ad an adventure, no?"

Jim smiled feebly.

 

"You may be wondering pour quoi you 'have, er, how shall I say zees, changed your shape?" She smiled at him,

"Yes", he whispered, noting his voice was quieter and higher than he remembered.

"Well, you fell into an old nunnery which was closed down many years ago. We knew of them but never suspected that there were stores of product."
"Product?"

"Yes, in the early days of fertility treatment – before the, er pill, some companies developed contraceptives from the urine of menstruating women. The best source being groups of unmarried women, such as nuns, as they often menstruated at the same time. They had a mechanism for storing and concentrating the hormones."
"The amber fluid!" Jim's eyes widened,

 

"Yes, the water that has kept you alive contained a very high concentration of female hormones. You have been swallowing these regularly for 5 months!"

"5 months – my god is that how long I have been down there?"

"Yes, you were lucky to get out; I hear that the roof of your chamber fell in yesterday!"

"Jim, I have to tell you that the amount of hormones you have taken mean that changes have happened in your body and we are not sure that they can be reversed. This is particularly true of your testicles which have reduced so much that they are no longer producing the male hormone. We can, of course, put you on hormone treatment but you will remain infertile." The doctor smiled at him,

"I am sorry to tell you this. We can start returning your body to being male soon."

Jim looked at her, his mind whirring, "I see, and if I didn't take the male hormone?"

"You would stay as you are really, we think."

"And if I continued to take female hormones?"

 

She looked at him, "Well, I am no expert here but I would think you would continue to grow breasts, small ones, and your body would become more rounded but you would never be fully female."

"I see," Jim smiled at her, "maybe that has helped me make a decision I needed to make 5 months ago."

In the weeks that followed, Jim was visited by Sophie and Veronique who pledged to help as much as they could. Sophie was pregnant and admitted that, after Jim went missing, they had consulted Janine, the pretty blonde doctor who had performed Jim's sperm test. She had stored his sample and they had agreed to try to use it – successfully!

Jenni arrived at the hospital weeping tears of joy and sorrow. She told Jim the story of how she found herself alone in the villa and how Sophie had called round, of the ensuing searches for Jim and her eventual return to the UK. She had moved in with David and she was happy with him but she did not know what to do now that Jim had returned.

Jim told Jenni of his decision, to take the effects of the hormones he had been exposed to in the nunnery to their ultimate conclusion – he was decided that he would go all the way for full reassignment surgery and to live out the rest of his life as Belinda Stone. Jenni had cried when Jim agreed to offer her a divorce; they parted as friends with Jim insisting on an invitation to the wedding.

When Jim told Sophie and Veronique of his decision, they both wept with joy and insisted, as father to the new baby, Jim came to live with them as a member of a unique family "unit".

  

  

  

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