Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters or events portrayed to any person or entity, living or dead, is purely coincidental and unintended. This work also includes mature subject matter and may not be appropriate for those under the age of eighteen. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form, including electronic storage and retrieval, without the prior express, written consent of the author. All rights reserved. Personal archiving for private use is approved.

 

Role-Over
by: Julia Manchester
© 2001

 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

 

Dale sat in the back of the big, black limo with Colleen and stared down at himself. He was wearing a tight, black crop top with a low-cut neckline, tight black hot pants, "barely black" pantyhose, and black, patent leather pumps with four-inch high stiletto heels. The word "MISS" was silk-screened in gold on his crop top, just above the words "SWEET SHOT," and one and a half inch gold hoops hung from his ears, complementing a short gold necklace and a matching anklet. Every curve of his sexy, feminized body was defined by the outfit, and his ripe, full breasts stretched the clingy top about to its breaking point, and showed entirely too much cleavage for Dale’s peace of mind. At the same time, the high, spiked heels made his legs appear longer and molded his calves in a way the "old" Dale would have found delightful.

The "new" Dale thought he looked like a hooker, but Colleen pointed out that the outfit wasn’t too different from his "Boomer’s Girl" uniform, and advised him to relax.

Somehow that thought didn’t comfort Dale, and he was in the midst of a severe case of nerves as he was chauffeured to his first public appearance as "Miss Sweet Shot." He crossed his arms beneath his bust and stared out the heavily tinted windows of the limousine as it sped towards the first of the three locations Dale was scheduled to visit. In the time since the advertising campaign began he had seen half a dozen billboards, innumerable magazine and newspaper ads, and even a couple of television commercials -- with his likeness playing a prominent part in all of it. And, judging from the reaction of the public, the advertising blitz had transformed him into the latest sex symbol. Frank had ordered thousands of posters and 8x10 glossy photos made of some of his best poses, and they were selling like tickets to paradise. Sandy had assured him that he was "getting a cut" of everything, so he didn’t mind autographing hundreds of pictures and posters in his spare time, but a personal appearance was something else.

When they were a couple of blocks from the pool hall Nick, the driver, pulled into a gas station and Colleen helped Dale fix his hair and makeup before they proceeded up to the front door of the Sweet Shot. The parking lot was jammed with cars, and there wasn’t an open parking place in the entire strip mall or the surrounding streets.

Colleen noticed that her friend looked really nervous, so she gave her a little advice before going in. "Just pretend that you’re still working at Boomer’s," she told Dale. "Play ‘em like you play the customers for tips."

Dale thought about what she said and realized it made sense. "Okay. Thanks Colleen," he replied as Nick opened the door for him.

Dale took a deep breath and let his mind settle into the proper attitude, then walked through the front door. The place seemed to be wall-to-wall guys, and as soon as Dale came through the door they let out a mixture of cheers, applause and whistles, and Dale put on his best sexy little smile and waved at them as he made his way to the front counter.

Frank and Rocky were waiting for him, and after a few preliminaries they led Dale over to a table and handed him a felt pen to sign his autograph. A seemingly endless line of men stepped forward with copies of Dale’s picture or poster and asked him to sign them, often requesting he write something personal, and Dale obliged. Meanwhile the tables were jammed with shooters and the bar was packed. Frank was grinning so broadly that Dale was afraid his face would crack.

When Dale had accommodated all the autograph seekers Frank and Vinney escorted him around the place. Dale could see that the bar had been completely redecorated, and photographs of him as "Miss Sweet Shot" adorned the walls, with one particularly large and seductive pose framed behind the bar. There were other pictures on the walls around the pool tables, and at the end of the tour Frank unveiled a huge, new sign that had an artist’s rendering of Dale in one of his sexiest poses. The artist had gotten a bit carried away, and Dale’s figure looked impossibly sexy in the painting. His boobs were exaggerated to impossible proportions, though his waist and legs looked about right. Dale was glad to get out of the place after an hour.

The second appearance of the day, at the next Sweet Shot location, was much easier for Dale. He wasn’t nearly as nervous as the first time, and he was actually able to relax a little. By the time he made his third and last appearance of the day it seemed almost routine. Dale was surprised to discover he actually enjoyed the attention, and he put a little extra wiggle in his walk when he made his grand entrance.

By the time he left the last location Dale reflected that the worst part of the entire experience, aside from the nervous anticipation, was a severe case of writer’s cramp. He had signed "Robin Langdon" to so many pictures and posters his fingers were sore.

 

The following week Dale did another photo shoot, this time at a car dealership. The offer had come through a local advertising agency, and Dale found himself posing in, on, and in front of several sleek sportscars. The outfits he wore included an evening gown, a sexy little dress, and a tiny little bikini that covered practically nothing. He was paired with a handsome male model for some of the shots, and Dale quickly learned how to look demure for the gown shots. and stare longingly into her partner’s eyes as he sat behind the wheel or held the passenger door for Dale. Several of the poses required his best "come and get me" look as he stared into the camera while sliding his hand over a shiny car.

Meanwhile, Sandy handled all of the financial arrangements, and Dale was perfectly content to let her take care of the business end. Sandy had no problem getting a good modeling agency to represent Dale, and she proved to be a shrewd businessman. Dale occasionally attended meetings where his signature was required, or where the customer wanted to meet "the girl," but contracts and business matters seemed boring, and his attention wandered whenever the financial details were discussed. Most of the time he stood next to his masculine wife, just looking gorgeous, and let Sandy do all the talking.

The agency parties were a different matter. Every couple of weeks the agency threw a lavish party at a nice hotel or resort, to show off its girls. Dale was an instant hit when he attended his first party, and with each successive event he attracted additional attention. The guests were all heavy hitters in the advertising game, and soon Dale was flooded with more offers than he could possibly handle. As a result the agency increased his fees until he was their highest paid model.

Despite his incredible figure and natural beauty Dale needed to acquire more sophisticated modeling skills, so Sandy enrolled him in a modeling school. There, Dale learned the secrets of makeup, hair care, posture, and even took some dance classes to increase his grace and poise.

 

Dale stared out the small window as the plane glided in for a landing. Montego Bay appeared beneath them in all its glory. Beautiful, white sand beaches ringed the inlet, providing an amazing contrast to the Caribbean Sea, whose waters gradiated from topaz to indigo. Lines of foamy, white froth seemed to move in slow motion as they approached the beach and flung themselves ashore. Beyond the beaches the verdant, tropical vegetation was everywhere, except for the town itself, and a few isolated dwellings, and the red tile roofs and white stucco walls of the buildings seemed painfully bright compared to the soothing emerald and jade of the flora.

The roar of the thrust reversers woke Sandy, and Dale smiled at her, then turned in his seat to look back at Colleen and Nick, who occupied the row behind them. Nick was reading a newspaper, but Colleen was fishing around in her purse for her compact. She grinned at Dale when she saw her friend looking back at her.

"Welcome to paradise. Are you ready to get to work?" She asked.

Dale chuckled. "You’re nothing but a slavedriver," he replied in his high, soft soprano voice.

Colleen giggled. They had flown to the north coast of Jamaica because of a fortuitous set of circumstances involving the sudden marriage of one of the girls who was slated to be a model for the swimsuit issue of a national magazine. The photo shoot had been scheduled for months, and carefully designed around six gorgeous models with specific figures and hair color, and when Monica Torrence eloped the agency had to find another well-endowed, blue eyed blonde to take her place. Dale had been chosen from a group of twenty finalists, and the travel arrangements had been expedited because the other girls were already on location. By the time Dale’s plane landed the others had been working for five days.

Thirty minutes after their plane touched down the group was in the back of a stretch limousine heading for the beach.

"I’m sorry everything is so rushed, but the contracts with the other girls expire in three days, and Arnie Gaston, our photographic artist, wants to start right on the group shots," their guide explained from the front seat, adding: "There are several shots designed for late afternoon or early evening lighting Arnie wants to do today. He’ll do your individual shots after the others have gone."

Less than twenty minutes later Dale and Colleen were inside a tent that had been pitched just off the beach. Dale stood in the center of the tent, on a low platform, while the wardrobe coordinator helped into several swimsuits, marking the suits in appropriate places for slight alterations. The suits were mostly scandalously skimpy two piece numbers, in a variety of colors and styles, and while the wardrobe coordinator went off to make the adjustments Dale was turned over to the hairdresser and cosmetic artist.

Colleen, who normally helped Dale with his hair and makeup, stood with her arms crossed and kept a close eye on the women who were fussing over her friend. She was able to offer a suggestion here and there, based on her experience with Dale’s features and coloring, but for the most part she remained in the background.

The first suit they wanted Dale to model was a tiny, cobalt blue halter top number with a thong bottom, and everyone agreed Dale filled it out magnificently. His voluptuous breasts strained the tiny, triangular cups, and his nipples were very prominent beneath the whisper thin fabric. The halter design pushed his breast together and accented his cleavage, and the thong bottom left his entire fanny exposed, merely covering a small portion of his Venus mound. The only problem they encountered were a couple of unwanted tan lines, but those were hidden with some judiciously applied makeup.

Dale was looking forward to meeting the other girls, but he was very disappointed by their reaction to him. Every one of them gave him the cold shoulder, and treated him like a pariah. Dale wondered if he had done something to offend the others, but Colleen set him straight during a break in the shooting.

"Honey, they’re jealous," she told him. "You are, far and away, the prettiest girl on the beach, and they know it. Throw in the usual prima-donna attitude that most of these supermodels have, and it’s easy to see what is happening."

Dale managed to ignore the attitudes of the other girls and concentrate on the work. Despite their snotty attitudes they were all smiles whenever the camera was clicking away, and anyone who saw the photographs would swear that the sexy girls were all great friends. They posed together in a classic chorus line pose, and in another shot they were all set in various locations on a huge, surf-drenched rock. Still other poses utilized an island schooner and a pier as props.

There were numerous breaks for costume changes, makeup repair, and location shifts, and by the time they finished for the day it was completely dark. The last shot used oil lamps set on poles on a bamboo deck, with the surf in the background. When Arnie finally called it a day Dale was exhausted.

 

The next two days were much like the first, except that Dale had 6 AM calls for makeup and hairstyling. Arnie spent the time shooting the models in groups of two and three, but despite the smaller numbers none of the other models ever warmed up to Dale, and the transformed male was actually glad when the others left the island.

Not everyone treated Dale so callously though. On the fourth day Arnie gave Dale the day off so he could do a little shopping and sightseeing, and Dale and Colleen took full advantage of the time to wander around the picturesque town. Both girls wore short skirts and halter tops, with strappy, mid-heel sandals, and the guys they encountered were only too pleased to answer their questions about Montego Bay or give them directions to the various sights. After yet another man had gone out of his way to show them the location of a particular shop Dale realized that, despite being small and weak, he had the ability to get any man to do practically anything. It felt strange, and it was certainly a different type of power than her was accustomed to, but it very real -- and quite interesting to use.

Dale tested his new, feminine power several more times that day, and he discovered he could make large, strong guys melt with a touch or a smile. It amazed him that him that those huge males practically fell over themselves to fulfill his every wish, and he was tempted to see how far he could go, but he didn’t want to get into any situation where some guy would expect more than a smile or a kind word in return for a favor. Still, for the first time since his transformation he didn’t feel like a powerless little weakling, and the realization that he did, indeed, have some power lifted his spirits.

The next day Arnie continued working on Dale’s individual shots, and the former male found himself posing in a succession of skimpy bikinis. Several "wet shots" were taken, with Dale appearing to be emerging from the water, his damp suit clinging to his body. In actuality Arnie used baby oil and glycerin to simulate water on Dale’s skin because water would have evaporated too quickly for the carefully posed shots. The makeup people kept Dale’s suit damp with spray bottles, and Dale perfected a sultry expression that Arnie just loved.

Arnie was extremely pleased with Dale’s "coachability," and he remarked that "Robin’s" inexperience was actually an advantage because she hadn’t been modeling long enough to acquire any bad habits. During the next few days the photographer took the time to teach Dale everything he needed to know about posing for the cameras, and the former man soaked up the lessons enthusiastically. On the final day of the shoot Arnie called Dale over to his tent to view some of the rough proofs, and Dale was stunned by the images. The girl in the photos was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous, desirable woman Dale had ever laid eyes on. Her soft, golden hair, crystal blue eyes, and sensual lips seemed almost hypnotic, and her expressions -- perfected with Arnie’s coaching -- ranged from a warm, girl-next-door smile to an alluring, sexy pout.

"My dear, you are the most beautiful model I have seen in years, possible ever, and this layout will be your debut. This one will be the cover shot for the magazine," Arnie announced proudly, holding up a particularly sensual close-up shot.

Dale was overwhelmed, first by the compliment, then by the news that he would soon be a "cover girl," and he sounded just like an excited young woman when he gushed, "Oh thank you, Mr. Gaston, I --"

Dale’s new mentor held up his hand to stop his sexy little model. "Please, always call me ‘Arnie.’ Mr. Gaston is far too formal for the artistic ambiance required for our line of work, and besides, there’s no reason to thank me. You are a fresh, new talent, and I’m simply helping you refine your style."

"Well, you’ve helped me so much! Thank you, Arnie," Dale replied, then shyly raised up on his tip-toes and kissed the photographer’s cheek.

"Yes, ah, well, we have one more day to improve upon perfection," the photographer mumbled. "Now get ready and give me the best you’ve got."

 

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

 

The swimsuit issue was always popular, but with Dale’s photo on the cover it was a smash hit. Copies disappeared from the newsstands as if by magic, and the publisher had so many requests they ordered a second printing, then a third, then a fourth. Copies of the cover shot, which featured Dale striding towards shore in a skimpy white bikini, his large nipples fully erect and forcing their way into the tiny cups of the halter-style suit, were plastered on billboards and featured in commercials. Dale was also featured in most of the shots that accompanied the article, and within a few days Robin Langdon was a household name, and the hottest model in the western world.

Dale’s agency could barely keep up with the offers that flooded in, and Robin Langdon instantly commanded record fees for her work. It didn’t hurt that Arnie had spread the word that Robin was a dream to work with, but the offers would have come in even if Robin was a world class bitch.

Dale made appearances on all of the late night talk shows, as well as the daytime shows, and he was able to fit in well with both, demographically diverse audiences. For the daytime shows he dressed conservatively and spoke about his "husband," and their home life, and the wonderful opportunity he had been given, and for the late night shows he poured himself into a succession of skin-tight, revealing outfits and high, spiked heel pumps or sandals. Those outfits were designed to stimulate the libido of any male with a pulse, and they worked very well. What the general public didn’t know was that Dale was actually paid to wear the outfits. Aspiring designers, as well as well-established houses were always looking for exposure, and Dale was the hottest "property" in the industry. When he appeared on a television show or commercial people noticed what he was wearing, and that translated to sales.

One unexpected development was the discovery that Dale actually had a little acting ability. He participated in several short skits during the talk show appearances, and he discovered he was particularly good at portraying a dumb, blonde sexpot. Of course the physical attributes had nothing to do with acting ability, but Dale had a fairly sharp mind, and he delighted the audiences with his ditzy, wide-eyed persona. He was the perfect "straight girl" for a double entendre or off-color comment of the host, and the vacant, uncomprehending stare he affected when the host delivered the punch line made the audiences roar.

Part of Dale enjoyed his newfound popularity, but another part of him was humiliated by being the butt of sexual innuendo. He went along with it because it came with the territory, but he was shamed by all the comments about his boobs and the leering stares he had to endure. His only consolation was his newfound power over men, which he developed and used at every opportunity. This ability grew as Dale learned the subtleties of how to breathe deeply or bat his eyelashes when he wanted some guy to do something for him, and within weeks no man could resist his requests.

No man, that is, except Sandy. When it came to his masculinized wife the tables were reversed, and Dale found that he was literally putty in her hands. Sandy had the ability to mesmerize him, and she was every bit his master. Despite being pursued by every eligible male in the country -- and lusted after by all the rest -- Dale discovered that he really had no desire for any man but Sandy. He flirted with a lot of guys -- it was all part of the act, the persona of a femme fatale -- but Sandy was his husband, his lord and master, and Dale had no desire for any other.

 

While her new "wife" was creating a sensation in the eye of the public, Sandy was quietly making a name for herself in the world of business. Thanks to her innovative marketing techniques her store had led the Maxiplex chain in sales increases for two straight quarters. When the president of the corporation brought her in for a little chat he realized that "James Langdon" was a marketing genius, and that they had only scratched the surface of his abilities. Jim’s rise to prominence happened to coincide with the imminent retirement of Maxiplex’s National Director of Marketing, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the "new man" would fill the vacancy quite nicely. Two weeks after the meeting Sandy was promoted to be the National Director of Marketing, bypassing the positions of District and Regional Directors, as well as several others.

With the promotion came a four-fold increase in Sandy’s salary, together with stock options, and a list of perks and fringe benefits that went on for pages. Of course, along with the promotion came the inevitable relocation to the corporate headquarters in Chicago, and a tearful farewell party was held at Boomer’s. Sal really went all out for his former waitress, and Julie and Nick, Gail, and Colleen and Derek came, as well as Frank, Vince, and Rocky, who each brought one of Rocky’s "girls" as dates. Dale had become very close to Colleen during the past few months, and he cried when she decided not to go to Chicago, though he couldn’t blame her -- Derek was a wonderful guy and he had asked her to marry him.

Dale had talked Sandy into buying the cottage to use as a "retreat." They could easily afford it with Sandy’s huge salary and Dale’s income, and the knowledge that they would get back every so often to see their old friends helped ease the pain of leaving, even though they would be living in a luxury, high rise condo on Chicago’s "Gold Coast."

The next few weeks were hectic for Dale, especially since, as the "wife" of a busy corporate executive, he was expected to decorate and furnish the condo, and see to all the little details that Sandy didn’t have time for. Dale felt put out at first, but he eventually threw himself into making their condo a real home, one that Sandy could come back to after a hard day at the office and relax. The only problem was that Sandy rarely got home before seven o’clock, and they had events scheduled almost every evening. The pace was hectic, and Dale was relieved when he got a chance to do some modeling or an appearance on a television show.

But, most of the time, Dale’s role was that of a corporate trophy wife. Sandy took him to parties, receptions, premieres, and dedications, where he was expected to appear glamorous and sexy, and be deferential to his forceful "husband." These events occurred so often that Dale automatically slipped into "wife mode" whenever they attended one of these functions. He didn’t even realize he was doing it after the first dozen or so events, nor did he realize that his new, submissive personality seemed to linger longer and longer after each occasion. After a few months his "wife mode" was his dominant personality, and he found it harder and harder to free himself from his meek, obedient role.

Sandy’s personality was changing too. She had proved that she could succeed in the rough and tumble world of a major corporate hierarchy, and as her new marketing strategies bore fruit, increasing sales on a national scale, her confidence grew. She was featured in several trade magazines, and it wasn’t long before Wall Street began to take notice of her career. Her record of success, together with the quiet confidence of her personality, insured that nobody questioned "Mr. Langdon’s" decisions, and Sandy became accustomed to giving orders and having her commands carried out. She wasn’t a dictator, and she often listened to the opinions of others, but she came to rely on her own instincts, and those instincts were rarely wrong. Soon, her name was being bandied about as the heir apparent to the CEO of the company, and her actions were closely watched by many in the business community.

All this translated into a subtle change in the Langdon’s home life. Sandy saw herself as a "serious" player in the corporate world, and looked at Dale’s modeling and acting as "fluff." She loved Dale, but found it hard to take anything he said seriously. Besides, he usually prattled on about some scandal or other insider gossip, instead of truly important subjects like earnings projections and the Fed’s latest monetary moves. She tried to be tolerant, but Dale picked up subtle signals from her that told him he should stick to his feminine pursuits and let HER handle the important things. At first Dale chafed at being relegated to secondary status, but he couldn’t bring himself to confront Sandy about her attitude, and eventually Dale began to see himself as Sandy did, almost a real life version of his dumb blonde portrayal. To maintain harmony he unconsciously began to act the part at home, as well as on the set, and in a surprisingly short time the role seemed completely natural. In a few short months it was no longer an act.

The former man’s voice became even higher, with a light, airy quality to it. He gushed and giggled when he talked, and his hands traced very expressive, feminine gestures. He confined his opinions to feminine concerns and left the "important" decisions to Sandy. In public Dale was the perfect combination of devoted wife and sexy mistress, which earned Sandy the admiration of her peers, and Dale the ire of the other wives. Not only did they disapprove of his overt flirting, but they felt that "Robin Langdon" had personally set the Women’s Movement back fifty years, to a time when good wives never voiced a serious opinion or had a thought worth noting. But Dale didn’t care. As time went on he became more and more comfortable in his role, and he saw no reason to change anything. Of course, all that changed when discovered he was pregnant.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

 

"There must be some mistake!" Dale said excitedly. "I just can’t be -- pregnant!"

"Oh? And why is that?" Dale’s gynecologist asked.

"B-because, I-I’m on the p-pill," Dale stuttered, flabbergasted by the doctor’s news.

"My dear Mrs. Langdon, oral contraceptives are not foolproof. I’ve had patients become pregnant even when both oral contraceptives and a condom were used. Granted, it is a one in a million chance, but it does happen, and you, my dear, are an expectant mother,"

"Ohmigod!" Dale breathed, shocked that he, of all people, should be "with child."

"What am I going to do?" He groaned, as the consequences of his pregnancy began to sink in.

"Well, there are a few things you need to know," the doctor told him. "I have a very good program for expectant mothers, and before you leave my nurse will give you some literature and vitamin supplements. I want you to read the material very carefully. There are a few dietary do’s and don’ts, an exercise program, and of course alcohol is a no - no.

"We’ll also be scheduling a sonogram, and my nurse will also give you some information to help you decide whether to nurse or bottle feed your baby. Of course, we’ll enroll you in childbirth classes, and child care classes too, if you feel the need."

Dale was too stunned to do more than nod, so the doctor continued:

"Mrs. Langdon, pregnancy and childbirth are a natural function of females, and nature will take care of the important part. I won’t try to tell you that it’s all pleasant, but most of my patients tell me that it is a wonderful experience, and 99% of all pregnancies involve no serious complications. Just follow my directions and odds are you will have a healthy baby."

"How much time do I have, I mean, before . . . before the baby comes?"

"My guess is that you’re about six to eight weeks along now. We’ll know more after the sonogram in a couple of weeks," the doctor replied.

"When will I, ah, start . . ."

"Start to show?"

"Yeah."

"Again, it’s hard to say. This is your first, and that often means you won’t begin to show as soon as a woman who has previously given birth. Say another four to eight weeks, depending upon how far along you are now."

 

Sandy was overjoyed at the news.

"Honey, this is fantastic!" She exclaimed, giving her diminutive spouse a gentle hug when Dale told her. "It’s about time we started a family."

Dale looked at his masculinized wife narrowly. "Well, you started it, but it looks like I’ll have to carry it," he remarked resentfully.

"Don’t take it so hard," Sandy said soothingly. "I hear it’s a wonderful experience. Besides, it’s only for nine months -- it will probably be over before you know it."

Dale pulled away from Sandy and looked up at him with an incredulous expression. "Only nine months?" He repeated sarcastically. "If it’s so easy why didn’t you want to get pregnant before we, ah, switched places?" He demanded.

"Well, the time wasn’t right," Sandy replied defensively.

"But the time is right now, now that YOU don’t have to bear the child," Dale retorted angrily.

"Honey, it’s not like that," Sandy protested. "It’s just that we’re financially secure now, and we can afford to have children," she continued.

Dale looked up at his wife for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose you’re right," he agreed reluctantly, "but that doesn’t make it any easier."

"I know it doesn’t," Sandy said soothingly, "but if it makes you feel any better I’ll do whatever I can to make it as easy as possible for you."

Dale leaned against his tall, handsome wife and was comforted by the sensation of being wrapped in her arms.

 

Dale read every scrap of material the nurse had given him, supplementing it with a book he picked up at a local bookstore. Though both the book and the doctor’s literature tried to make pregnancy sound like a wonderful experience Dale could read between the lines, what he discovered scared the hell out of him. From what he read he could expect to suffer from everything from swollen ankles to a form of diabetes, with varicose veins, stretch marks, backaches, and chronic fatigue thrown in for good measure. As if that weren’t enough, there were articles and chapters dealing with cravings, mood swings, and postpartum depression, and Dale’s anxiety increased with every word he read.

It didn’t help when Sandy began acting like a proud father-to-be. She swaggered around with her chest puffed out, playing the virile male, and it was especially demeaning when she took it upon herself to help "the little woman" or when Dale really needed assistance lifting or reaching something. It also bugged the former man that she constantly asked him if he noticed any changes in his body. She almost seemed disappointed that Dale didn’t immediately balloon up like a beachball, and as time passed Dale got the distinct impression that Sandy regarded him as some sort of baby machine.

But, contrary to Sandy’s hopes, Dale did not begin to show for quite some time. In fact, he was able to do several more modeling jobs before he noticed his tummy beginning to bulge.

It took nearly two months before Dale noticed his expanded girth, but once it started things began happening very fast. Two days after he noticed the change in his figure Dale felt something move inside him, and he froze with a puzzled look on his face. When it happened again, a few seconds later, Dale realized it was the baby moving inside him, and his eyes grew wide. It had been just a gentle, little nudge, but for the first time Dale had felt the baby -- his baby -- and it really drove home the fact that there was a tiny human being growing inside of him -- a separate life that he would soon bring into the world -- and the feminized man felt a sense of awe and wonder.

Within a few days Dale was wearing maternity clothes, and he began to take a strange pride in his pregnancy. He was doing something that no man had ever done, and even Sandy could not do, and he felt both proud and privileged. He was nurturing a new life, a life that was part of him and also part of Sandy, and he resolved to do his best to insure that his baby was healthy, happy, and well cared for.

Thus began what Sandy jokingly referred to as Dale’s "nesting instinct," and Dale started preparing one of the spare bedrooms in the condo to use as a nursery. The sonogram had shown the baby to be a girl, so Dale decorated the room in pastels and pinks, with lots of little frills and girlie items. He took great delight in spending Sandy’s hard-earned money to make sure that his little girl would have the best of everything, including a large wardrobe of cute baby clothes and booties. He even learned to knit and crochet so he could make some personalized items for his baby daughter.

Dale also discovered there were actually a couple of good aspects to being pregnant. He no longer had to deal with his periods, and as an expectant mother he had to be humored. Sandy was forced to cater to his every whim, and Dale took full advantage of his position. He got Sandy to hire a full-time maid, and he also got a membership in an exclusive health club, along with other "fringe benefits." Dale also delighted in sending Sandy out in the wee hours of the morning for whatever he needed to satisfy his cravings. He even sent her a few times when he didn’t really have any cravings, unable to resist using his new-found power.

As his pregnancy progressed Dale grew more emotional, and found himself crying over silly little things, and sometimes for no reason at all. Just watching television could start him sobbing or giggling, and he became addicted to movies with happy endings. He needed constant reassurances and lots of hugs, and while Sandy tried her best she simply did not understand the emotional upheaval Dale was going through.

On the bright side, Dale never did develop diabetes or varicose veins, and even as he grew huge there were no stretch marks. It was if his skin had become incredibly elastic. Also, unlike most pregnant women, Dale’s feet and ankles did not swell, and though his breasts grew even larger as his body prepared to nurse the baby he carried, they did not become pendulous or sag. Dale’s doctor told him he was having a remarkably easy pregnancy, and mentioned Dale might even be able to return to his modeling career after he gave birth.

But it didn’t feel easy to Dale. As the end of his term approached he felt huge, and he waddled like a duck. He sat with his hands beneath his belly, supporting the baby to ease the strain on his back, and finding a comfortable sleeping position was becoming impossible. He couldn’t pull his chair close to a table to eat, and he was constantly tired.

 

Dale gasped as a sharp, stabbing pain caused him to grab the counter for support. He was breathing heavily, and he had to sit down -- now! As he used one hand to support his back and the other to remain in contact with the counter another pain sliced through him, and he shrieked and doubled over. Through the awful agony he finally realized that it was time. He was about to give birth.

He managed to make it into the living room and collapse onto the chair near the phone. Before anything happened he grabbed the phone and dialed the number of Sandy’s office.

"Sandy!" He exclaimed when she came on the line. "It’s time! I’m gonna have the baby!"

"Are you sure?" His wife responded in a voice that was far too calm for Dale’s liking. "It could be a false alarm, you know," she added.

"Well, it feels like the real thing to me, and how would I know if it was a false alarm?" Dale demanded petulantly.

"Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can," Sandy told him in that infuriatingly calm voice.

"Men!" Dale muttered as he hung up the phone and tried to find a comfortable position.

When Sandy arrived, thirty minutes later, she found Dale sitting on the couch, wearing his navy blue jumper with a white tee shirt and navy flats. A small bag was sitting on the floor, and Dale was leaning back, eyes closed, supporting his stomach with both hands.

"I think the little one is getting anxious," he told his wife. "The pressure feels tremendous!"

Sandy helped her pregnant husband out to the car and then put his little overnight case in the trunk. She made certain the seat belt was arranged properly for Dale, then headed straight for the hospital. When she pulled up to the Emergency entrance the attendant took one look at Dale and ran for a wheelchair. Another contraction occurred while Dale was being wheeled up to the maternity ward, and he let out a scream that echoed through the halls.

"Looks like she ready to give birth right now," one of the nurses remarked as the orderly followed the charge nurse to Dale’s room.

Dale was trying to remember his breathing lessons, and he took shallow breaths, panting, as the nurse shooed Sandy out of the room and transferred him to a soft easy chair. She helped Dale remove his clothes and shoes, and wrapped one of those ridiculous hospital gowns around him and tied it at the neck.

 

The next nine hours were the worst of Dale’s life. He alternated between misery and outright agony as the contractions came and went. In between he laid on the bed or tried to sit in a chair, while Sandy held his hand or mopped his forehead with a cold cloth. A couple of times Dale even got out up and wandered down the corridor, holding his belly with one hand, and trying to support his back with the other. Sandy went with him, walking slowly by his side as he waddled a few yards down the hall before returning to his room.

The nurse came to his room every so often -- Dale wasn’t sure about the intervals -- and shooed Sandy away for a few minutes while she examined Dale, but each time she told Dale that he wasn’t quite ready. Once, as the nurse made the same announcement as she was leaving Sandy remarked, "Now I know it’s going to be a girl -- It’s just like a woman to be late."

That comment earned her dirty looks from both Dale and the nurse, and Sandy mumbled an apology, then beat a hasty retreat, announcing she had to go make a phone call.

Dale was no longer afraid of the pain -- It had become a fact of life for him. After nine hours of labor all he wanted was to get it over with, and he finally got his wish. The contractions had been slowly increasing in frequency and intensity for hours when Dale suddenly felt another, followed by a gush of fluid. His scream brought the nurse, and when she arrived she immediately called for the obstetrician and began moving Dale around a little so she could set up the bed properly. The bed doubled as a birthing station, and in a few moments Dale found himself flat on his back with his feet secured in stirrups. Sandy held his hand and whispered small endearments and encouragement as the doctor was gloved and masked.

Then it was Sandy’s turn to be masked, gowned and gloved, and Dale keened softly as he waited for her reassuring touch to return. He panted and puffed, trying to remember his breathing as additional nurses entered the room and took their places. Finally the doctor announced that the baby was perfectly positioned in the birth canal and it was time for him to push. Dale took one more deep breath and pushed with all his might, arching his back slightly. The pain and the sense of urgency were intense, and Dale felt like he was trying to expel a watermelon.

Again and again he pushed, arching his back, groaning and screaming as he struggled. All the while the doctor offered quiet encouragement and told him he was doing just great, but Dale didn’t feel like he was accomplishing anything, and he was growing increasingly exhausted from the horrible ordeal. Just when Dale thought he couldn’t possibly take any more the doctor announced that he could see the baby’s head, and that one or two more good pushes would do it. Bolstered by that information Dale reached down to the depths of his being and found the strength for one last push.

Suddenly Sandy shouted, "You did it, honey -- You did it!"

Dale felt an immediate lessening of the pain, and when the doctor called Sandy to the bottom of the bed to cut the umbilical cord Dale tried to raise his head up to see his baby, but he was too exhausted to do more than sigh. While Dale rid himself of the placenta one of the nurses took the baby over to a long counter and weighed and measured it. Then, after a quick cleaning and a pin prick for a blood sample, she returned and Dale got a chance to hold his new baby daughter for the first time. Little Sandra was beautiful, despite looking a bit like a reddish prune, and Dale felt the tears begin to flow.

Sandy cranked the bed to a more upright position so Dale could cradle his newborn and see her better. She was absolutely perfect, with a tiny button nose and a shock of light blonde hair, and Dale felt so proud and relieved that he began crying again.

After the doctor signed the birth certificate, and a little arm band was placed around the baby’s wrist, Dale suddenly felt the exhaustion overtake him. The nurse took little Sandy and placed her in a small crib next to Dale’s bed, then told Sandy to get lost for awhile and let his "wife" sleep.

 

Something awakened Dale about an hour later, and for a moment he didn’t know what it was. Then he heard the tiny cries of his baby, and he quickly leaned over to look down at his baby daughter in her small crib. Her arms were encased in sleeves that covered her tiny hands like mittens, but she was trying to get one of her hands into her mouth, and failing miserably. Dale instantly knew little Sandy was hungry, and with a great deal of grunting and groaning, he managed to swing his legs off the bed and bend down and pick her up. She was such a precious little thing that Dale gazed at her lovingly for a few seconds before reaching behind his neck to undo the string tie of the miserable hospital gown he was wearing.

Holding little Sandy against himself with one hand, Dale managed to slip the gown off his shoulders with his other hand. Then he positioned his baby near one of his large feminine nipples and touched it to her lips. The baby’s head seemed to shake back and forth for an instant and her mouth opened instinctively when she found the nipple. Dale felt a brief instant of pain when Sandy began to suck, then he felt his milk begin to flow. It was the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced, and Dale felt a sublime peacefulness come over him as he nursed his baby. He gazed down at her lovingly and let his mind drift as he savored the sensation. Nothing could be as wonderful as the experience of nursing his own baby, and Dale felt truly vindicated by the event. It was as if all of the humiliation and pain of the gender swap was swept away by this one act, and Dale felt an incredibly strong and unbreakable bond to his baby, the beginning of a love that would last lifetime.

Dale transferred little Sandy to his other breast, and he was in the process of wiping his breast milk from his nipple when he heard a nasty, but familiar voice.

"Well, well, if this isn’t an idyllic scene," Jill Douglas remarked sarcastically, standing in the door way to Dale’s room. "A mother breastfeeding her newborn baby. This is a scene worthy of a Michaelangelo."

"What are you doing here in Chicago -- And how did you know I was here?" Dale asked, shocked at the appearance of his old nemesis.

"That’s easy Dale my boy -- Oh, but you aren’t a boy anymore, are you?" She laughed as Dale’s mouth dropped open.

"How did you --"

"How do I know about you? It’s simple -- I’m the one who turned you into a girl," Jill said in a matter of fact tone.

"You?"

"Sure. It’s easy -- for a witch," Jill added.

"But, why --"

"Oh, come now. I hoped that turning you into a female would improve your IQ, or at least heighten your awareness. Apparently I was wrong.

"You were a real shit, Dale. A certified, prize-winning male chauvinist porker. You leered at other women even when your wife was present, and you made jokes about her anatomy and embarrassed her no end. You tried to make up for your own inadequacies by treating women like dirt.

"I was at the restaurant that night when you made those cruel comments, and I decided right then and there that something had to be done."

"So, why did you show up here, now?" Dale asked, feeling ashamed of his former attitudes and conduct.

"Why, I came to see my baby -- why else?"

"YOUR baby?" Dale asked incredulously. For a minute he was afraid Jill would try to take little Sandy away from him.

"Not genetically," Jill admitted, "but in a way I AM the father. I took control of Sandy the night you conceived, because she needed a little "help" to overcome those contraceptives you were taking. It was a riot," she added. "I always wondered what it would be like to turn the tables on a man and screw him silly, and you were the perfect candidate."

"Does Sandy know about this?" Dale asked, feeling completely violated.

"Of course not," Jill replied testily. "She would never have willingly gone along with it."

"Why did you punish Sandy too?" Dale asked.

The witch sighed. "I didn’t mean for this to be a punishment for your spouse. I’ve tried to give her ample compensation for having to undergo a sex change, but there was no real choice."

"No choice?" Dale mocked the woman. "You could have punished me all you wanted. You didn’t have to involve her."

Jill shook her head. "You don’t understand," she replied. "She loved you, despite your shitty behavior, and if I hadn’t changed her she wouldn’t have been able to remain your spouse. I am forbidden to break up any relationship where to do so would cause pain to an innocent party. Therefore, I had no choice. That makes your conduct even more despicable in my eyes."

"Well, what now?" Dale asked, unconsciously clutching little Sandy to his bosom.

"Why nothing, my dear. You will remain exactly as you are, unless I decide otherwise -- but don’t count on it. You haven’t begun to pay for your abysmal treatment of women.

"I’m going to make sure you get the "complete" experience, and believe me, you aint seen nothin’ yet! You may be surprised to learn that you will soon regain your figure, exactly as it was before you became pregnant. You’ll continue to be one of the most desirable women in the world -- until you get pregnant again."

"Again!" Dale gasped. He had just completed one pregnancy with nine hours of labor, and the pain he still felt was all too real.

"Of course, honey. You’re going to have more babies -- lots more -- And each time you do you’ll regain your figure and be as lovely as before, and since I’ve slowed down the aging process for both you and Sandy, you should wind up with quite a brood.

"In the meantime you will find out firsthand what it’s like to be gawked at, made the butt of crude jokes, and treated like a piece of meat. Now you’ll really find out what it’s like to be a woman in a world dominated by male pigs. Get used to being small, weak, and dependent. For the rest of your life you’ll need someone to open jars, reach for things in high places, and lift things you once found easy to carry. You’ll suffer through your monthly "visitor" whenever you’re not knocked up, and you’ll have to consider your personal safety whenever you go out -- just like any other woman. Men won’t take you seriously, especially with your looks, and they’ll ignore your opinions and treat you like a blonde bimbo.

"So have fun, sweetie. Enjoy womanhood, because it’s yours for good. Oh, one other thing. Don’t bother trying to find me so you can beg me to change my mind, because I’m moving on. There’s lots more work for me to do out there. Ta - ta."

Before Dale could open his mouth Jill disappeared from the doorway and Dale wasn’t sure if she had dissolved into thin air or simply walked off. He was so stunned by the witch’s announcement he just sat there, cradling his baby girl in his arms and staring off into space.

So he was stuck for good. He would always be a woman, unless Jill decided to change him back, and he didn’t think that was likely. After spending over a year as a woman Dale actually agreed with Jill that he deserved to be punished for his past behavior. But Jill had really blown it.

Despite all the aggravations and problems, despite Sandy’s sometimes callous attitude and her airy dismissal of his opinions, Dale still loved her. She was his husband, and she was actually a darn good one. She was attentive to his needs, and completely faithful. If she blew him off once in a while, well, it was no more than he had done to her before the great gender swap. Dale decided he could live with that.

But the biggest reason he knew Jill had made a mistake was in his arms. He had just given birth to the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen, and he loved her more than life itself. As he looked down into her gorgeous blue eyes and saw little Sandy staring back up at him with an expression of complete trust Dale knew becoming a woman was the best thing that ever happened to him. Jill wouldn’t understand, but then she had never been a mother.

 

EPILOGUE

 

In the years that followed Dale juggled his modeling and acting career with motherhood, and he eventually wound up acting in a series of hilarious movies. His "dumb blonde" persona made him a cultural icon, and the public marveled at the longevity of his career. At the age of 50 he could easily pass for 32 or 34, and even younger on his better days. Of course everyone attributed his youthful appearance to cosmetic surgery and rigorous exercise, especially since it was common knowledge was almost constantly pregnant when she wasn’t working. Eventually Dale bore seven children, all daughters, over a fourteen year span.

Sandy continued her own meteoric rise in the business world, effecting several corporate takeovers and eventually becoming the CEO of the world’s largest retailer. Her income dwarfed even the sizable sums earned by Dale, and she remained the undisputed master of her family.

Dale’s pregnancies came like clockwork, regardless of what form of contraceptives he used, and eventually he gave up and just let it happen. Every twenty four months he found himself "with child," and at the first sign of pregnancy he packed up his growing group of girls and retreated to the cottage on the lake, which Sandy kept expanding to meet her family’s needs. During these times Dale saw a lot of Colleen, Julie, and his other friends, and they managed to remain close through the years. Colleen and Derek had several children, mostly boys, and strangely enough so did Julie and Nick. As their children grew into their teenage years the three mothers noticed several "special" relationships developing among their children.

Dale’s visits to his hometown also benefited Sal Jacobs and Frank Canesco. Posters from Dale’s movies adorned the walls of Boomer’s, and Dale made regular personal appearances at both Boomer’s and The Sweet Shot -- as favors to old friends -- before his pregnancies began to "show," and his appearances helped both businesses tremendously.

Perhaps the greatest change in anyone occurred to Rocky. The gangster made an absolute fortune from his "cut" of Dale’s fees, and when he realized how much he could make in a "legit" business Rocky experienced an epiphany. He gradually dropped all of his small time criminal enterprises -- it made no sense to continue them -- and began grooming his "girls" as models and actresses instead of callgirls. He never did find another Robin Langdon, but he did well enough that he never regretted "going straight."

Dale retired from acting at the age of 60 to a life as a corporate trophy wife. He was still quite stunning, appearing to be in his late 30s, and his beauty was timeless. Sandy was proud to attend a reception or premiere with Dale on his arm, and Dale came to love being Sandy’s "wife."

The former man had learned a valuable lesson, courtesy of Jill Douglas. He had played many roles since becoming a woman -- Waitress, lover, model, actress, blonde sexpot, wife, and mother -- and as he looked back on it he realized he was content with his life and his adopted gender. Every so often he wondered if he would ever see Jill again, and he wondered what it might be like to be a man once more -- It had been so long that he had forgotten completely -- But he doubted he would ever find out. Jill was gone for good, and his role as a man was over . . . Forever.

 

FINIS

 

 

 

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