Samantha                              by: Rachel Ann Cooper               © 1998

 

When I graduated high school, college was not an option. We just didn’t have the money. But, the local community college did offer 2 year associate degrees and some professional degrees.

I went in and got their brochure in March of my senior year. They offered a lot of courses, but I had always wanted to be a dentist. I guess the closest I was going to get was to be an assistant or a hygienist. I voted for hygienist as that was very often a deal where you worked in a dentist’s office but were essentially self employed. As I found out from my own DH, she didn’t have to work every day. In fact, the office was closed on Wednesdays. They only worked four days a week and were very well paid. So, that’s what I enrolled in and came to be very glad I did.

The very first week of classes, I saw this really pretty girl with long strawberry blond hair in a couple of my classes. And she was also in my lab class. I couldn’t believe my incredible good luck when she was assigned to be my lab partner. Of course, the school offered very low cost dentistry so that we could get some practical experience and learn our technique, but that would come later.

We introduced ourselves and I told her my name was Greg Peterson. Hers was Samantha Willows. Over the next few months, we became good friends and began spending some time together outside school. At first, I wouldn’t have called them dates, but along about January of our first year, I did ask her out on a date type date. One of the things that I really liked about her besides her beauty and personality was the fact that she was quite feminine, and shunned the sloppy look of jeans, a T shirt and sneakers when away from school. No matter when I would see her, she at least had on a nice blouse, slacks and maybe a low heeled pump or flats. That was as masculine as she ever got and a lot of the time, she wore skirts and dresses, even at home. Well, my Mom had always worn dresses at home too, and I appreciated it. I’d rather look at pretty clothes any day as opposed to jeans and sneakers on a girl. Big corporations know the secret. Packaging is very important.

We continued to date. I was seeing her at least three nights a week besides at school and one day it dawned on me. Greg, you’re in LOVE with her and so I decided to tell her. We had just come back from a movie to her apartment, which she shared with her cat, Merlin. In an atmosphere of candlelight and music, I garnered up the courage to tell her. She was already in my arms and looking up at me (I’m 5'9" and she is 5'6"), she said, "Greg, are you really, REALLY sure about that?" I thought that was a little odd but responded, "yes, absolutely." And she said, "well, I feel the same way. If you will accept a little gift from me, I think we could have a beautiful life together."

I had not asked her to marry me and had not given her a ring, but she went to her bedroom and came back with a ring box and told me to open it. Inside was a gold ring with the most beautiful opal stone I’d ever seen. I think they call them ‘fire’ opals. She said, "this is for you honey, a symbol of my love," and she placed it on my right ring finger. It was exactly like the one she wore. It appeared to flash brilliantly as she put it on me and it seemed a little too large, but by the time I left for home, I realized I must have been mistaken as it now fit perfectly. If anything, I might have trouble getting it off.

As we continued to share school and dates, I was falling harder and, in March of the following year, knowing that graduation was near, asked her to marry me and gave her an engagement ring.

It was a family heirloom belonging to my grandmother, very ornate with a nice sized center stone.

She accepted and said she loved it. Believe it or not, that was the first night that I ever slept with her (or any other girl) as I was, at 20, still a virgin. Needless to say, I felt very inadequate but she made me feel, as always, at ease, and told me what she liked and I pleasured her. It was wonderful. Her mother had put her on ‘the pill’ when she was 16 because she was so attractive and we knew each other was disease free, so we didn’t make any stops along the way. She had a well developed body, not a skinny model but one that measured 34C-24-35 and she seemed willing to share all that she had with me.

Between then and graduation, she would occasionally get me so bothered that we would end up the evening in bed and I was becoming a little more confident, although she took the lead as often as I. We decided to wait until we both were established in an office and had a little extra money before we got married.

Again, because we were young and frugal, we had a civil ceremony at the county courthouse with a few of our friends from school and immediate family as witnesses. We were working and just took a long weekend as a ‘starter’ honeymoon. We planned our vacations for the same time and that would be the real one. I had been living at home, so I moved into her apartment and there was plenty of space. I didn’t have much really, in the way of life’s accumulated ‘stuff.’ My wardrobe was a little on the bare side too.

Samantha was always consistent and never changed her style, which told me that her very feminine dressing nor keeping that beautiful body in shape was not designed to ‘catch a fly.’ She did it for herself and I came to find out, it went right down to the skin. She wore sexy lingerie too and it was not wasted as I admired her half naked as well. She never had a problem with her weight and made sure we ate right and took supplements because we needed to keep up our immune systems being around and so close to our patients.

As our one year anniversary approached she said I looked a little tired and starting giving me another supplement but as she saw me improve, stopped them the day of our anniversary. She said I didn’t need them anymore telling me that they had done the trick. I was looking much better to her. Our anniversary was a beautiful, candle light night and as we made love that night, I could swear that there was actually an aura around us. The darkened room practically glowed.

It was three weeks later when I said something about it to Samantha. I’d noticed last week but wasn’t sure. "Honey, do I look all right to you?" "Of course," she said. "Well, I think I’m shrinking." "Really? You are too young for settling of the spine but just in case, you’d better go get an x-ray and make sure. That was a good idea and I made an appointment. A week later, I asked her to measure me. The x-ray had been normal. Even my clothes were feeling larger, even my shoes. Sure enough, I was now only 5'8" tall. There was no logical explanation. I felt just fine, better than usual in fact. Samantha was sympathetic and she put new hems in my trousers and uniforms for me.

Over the next few weeks, I continued to feel like I was getting not only smaller but that things about my not very macho body were also taking on new dimensions. My hands, never overly large, a plus as a hygienist, now seemed more slender and my nails were growing out some which, strangely, didn’t bother me. In fact, I shaped them in a surprisingly feminine way one night when I absentmindedly picked up the file.

Strangely, the ring she had given me, as well as my wedding band, remained a perfect fit. I had to crank my stool up another inch and by the end of February I was having to wear heavy socks to keep my shoes from slipping off. I always wore white slip-ons. I had to go out and buy a couple new sets of whites in a 34 shirt and my pants, once 34 by 32 were now 30 by 30. Whatever this malady was, I wanted to slow it down, but how?.

Samantha suggested lifts in my shoes, an idea I really didn’t like. Then she suggested that I change my style of duty shoes. We went to a local uniform store and, rather than look in the men’s, she took me over to the women’s department where I found some for only $20 a pair. They had a two inch wedge heel and felt very comfortable. I felt a little self conscious trying on white nurses shoes but my wife was with me and besides, I knew guys who were nurses. Since my dress and lounging shoes were similarly affected, we went to a regular shoe store and I also chose a couple pairs of women’s stack heeled loafers and they fit very well also. She advised me to only buy one pair and see how I liked them. Good advice. So now, with my new sized clothing, I felt a little better but the staff did notice the change in my duty shoes. One of the D.A.s just said, "cute" and that was the last of it.

I continued to shrink. For some reason, I had let my nails grow out a little more and had given myself a decidedly feminine manicure and put on three coats of Hard As Nails. These were no longer the hands of a man. They were soft and...pretty! Samantha, sweet thing, brought me home a nice ladies sized wrist watch in stainless and gold for my now too small wrist for a men’s watch. This was something right out of a science fiction book. The same D.A., Alice, noticed. "Nice nails Greg. New watch?" "Uh, yes. Samantha bought it for me." "It looks better on you than that big one did. You have such pretty hands." " Uh...thanks." What else could I say?

I had worn a man’s size 8D shoe, which would be about a 10C in a woman’s. I was wearing a woman’s 8B, which meant that my male size was now a 6C and hard to find. My hips seemed to stay the same at 36" but my waist continued to shrink. It was now 27". My rib cage and shoulders even seemed to be getting smaller. I began to wonder if Merlin was going to be bigger than me. My mind shot back to a couple of old movies about incredible shrinking people.

The first week of March, it began to happen. My face, still somewhat boyish at age 21, seemed to be rearranging. My cheekbones seemed higher, eyes larger and almond shaped, smile wider and lips fuller, chin more pointed, neck longer and my ears even seemed smaller. In fact my whole head seemed smaller and my hair was growing like mad. My Adams apple had all but disappeared and my voice, never deep, was becoming a smooth mid range alto. I was beginning to get ‘ma’am’ on the ‘phone.

My feet were still shrinking and I went to thick socks again. And yet, I didn’t panic. I should have been on 2mg. Ativan panic attack medicine but I didn’t need it. Samantha was not in a panic and this had to stop somewhere. At this point, she suggested that I get my ears pierced and it just seemed quite an acceptable idea. Having to face the staff at work, I opted for the plain gold ball studs while they healed.

My manhood was also shrinking and would only spring to it’s former self when we made love. This in itself was terribly peculiar. As any man will tell you, a really pretty girl can set them off to a tightening in their britches. I was having trouble finding it to stand and pee, so I began sitting down and wiping like a girl. I didn’t want to wear my heavy socks all the time, so Samantha said that I might as well try on some of her shoes. The ones with open toes like sandals fit fine and so did her slippers. My appearance, never the epitome of masculinity, was now very androgynous and leaning the wrong way and then it happened.

I began to grow breasts. There was no mistaking it. This was not sloppy old gynecomastia. They were perfectly proportioned lovely breasts with increasingly large areola. Every morning I would look in the mirror and see new growth. By the next week, Samantha suggested I start sleeping in a nightgown and wearing a camisole to work in order to keep down the abrasion . I had no problem with this and I continued to fill up the bodice. These were the real thing and it was so fast. I grew three years worth of bosom in three weeks. The end of the first week, I went out and got myself a sports bra to hold them in at work. Of course, both the bra and the camisole showed through my uniform shirt and I got some really interesting looks from the rest of the staff but they kept their tongues in check.

My waist was now 24", hips 35" and bust 34C, the same as Samantha. I bound it at work with the tightest sports bra I could stand and began wearing a lab coat to hide them. Of course, I couldn’t hide the hands, feet, face and hair. And I was now 5'6", exactly the same size as Samantha. I could now wear anything she owned and she began to encourage me to raid her closet at will. What else could I do? It was obvious that for whatever reason, I was turning into a girl.

Never in my life had I ever heard of someone spontaneously changing sex and yet, here I was, looking every bit a young, attractive woman. If mom had a girl, I guessed this was what she would have looked like, a bit like Mom only prettier. What was this going to do to my job, my relationship with the dentist and the staff and my client base? What I really couldn’t figure out was how well Samantha was taking all this and why I was not tearing my now luscious long hair out by it’s auburn roots. For whatever reason, I actually LIKED what was happening even though it was totally weird and I had never had a thought in my life about consciously doing something like this.

I was a bit sheepish about this, but she was helpful and patient with me and I did, after all, think she had great taste and I loved seeing her in her dresses and heels, especially the 3-4" sexy spikes she liked so much. She loaned me a bra, garter belt and a slip, had me pick out a dress and showed me how to put on stockings over which I then pulled up a pair of satin panties which had virtually no more manhood to conceal. I gained a new appreciation for sexy lingerie that day and found I loved the way it felt on me even more than the way it felt on Samantha.

Then she chose a pair of high heeled pumps to go with that dress and I slipped them on while sitting on the bed with my legs crossed at the knee. Gazing in wonder at my new self in the mirror, I ran my hands over this now very female shape and when I got to my bosom, felt aroused. My nipples sprang to attention and I got a very peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach. I began to feel good about myself again for the first time. From then on I did begin wearing her clothes at home and out after work as anything else looked ridiculous on me. Samantha was very sympathetic and helpful and we discussed my ability to remain in my profession as a male. She convinced me to try a little lipstick and blush. It looked nice. It tasted good. I liked it.

I asked her if she thought I had stopped shrinking and she said, "yes," as if she actually knew this to be a fact. I asked her how she knew and she replied, "I just know." The prognosis was not good and she offered to show me the proper use of cosmetics and the fundamentals of hair styling. None of what had happened to me had escaped the attention of the staff where I worked but there was a new level of friendliness between me and the technicians and office staff, all women.

At first, they had been taken back. Now, they had become overtly friendly as though I was now a member of ‘the club.’ I guess I was at that! The dentist only cared about my abilities as a hygienist and was, therefore, nonplused, at least, that’s what I thought. However, during a time when neither of us had patients, he called me into his office and closed the door.

"Greg, your work is good, you have a gracious chair side manner and we like you and so do your patients but this appearance of yours, well, I think it’s time you changed your uniform style and start wearing a bra that doesn’t choke you. I don’t understand all this, but it really doesn’t matter to us here. When you start in next week, you may as well look like who you seem to be, a woman; earrings, makeup, skirt, white heels, whatever you like but only clear polish on the nails. A French manicure would be acceptable also."

I was floored, stunned may be a better term and I couldn’t speak for what seemed like at least a half minute as the tears welled up in my eyes. He said, "please don’t cry dear. Sex changes are not as odd or rare as they once were. Here’s a tissue. Dry your eyes. You and Samantha should probably think of a new name. Greg isn’t going to cut it anymore, is it?" Finally regaining some composure, I said, "You couldn’t be more right, Dr. Johnson and thank you so very much for being so understanding. My next patient should be in the waiting room so I’ll get back to work." I didn’t even try to explain all this to him. How could I? I didn’t have any answers myself, only questions..

That night, we did discuss this and since this all took place like magic, I thought that the name Genie, might be cute and appropriate. We both got a good girlish giggle out of that as I once again noticed that my voice had seemed to have slipped up just another notch, and that night I became Jeanie Louise Peterson, taking my mother’s name for my middle one. We would have to get an attorney and petition the court. She said it wouldn’t be a problem. I brought up the issue of my parents. She said it wouldn’t be a problem! She always had such self assurance. How could she possibly know that with such certainty?

My hair pattern had become totally female as my forehead advanced and my pubic region was a man’s worst nightmare. It sported a mere nub and really looking more like Samantha’s, and had been surrounded by folds of labia, for want of a better word and the scrotum seemed to have become part of this while the jewels had been sucked up into my body. There was an opening there now and it was getting bigger, deeper, moist. I pointed this out to Samantha and she said, "honey, don’t worry, you will always be able to be my husband when you want to be but by Monday, your female organs will be complete and you will need to go the gynecologist and be examined. "You mean complete as in able to conceive?"

"Exactly." "How do you know all this?" Again, all I got was, "I just know. The doctor’s statement will insure that you will get your name change with no problem." And still I did not panic because when we made love, Greg’s love muscle returned to normal for the duration and then became my clitoris again. Finally I asked Samantha if she knew what this was that was turning me into a woman and why she, and I for that matter, was remaining so calm about all this.

"And how do you know that my organs will be complete by Monday? Are you a witch or something?" "Or something", she replied coyly! "Then you cast a spell on me?" "Yes." "For heaven’s sake, why?" "Remember when you told me you loved me and I gave you the opal after asking you if you were really, really sure?" "Yes." "The ring holds the spell. You cannot take it off and I know you don’t want to so it’s a moot point."

"This is what you’ve always wanted and I loved you enough and had the power to make your dream come true." Just like that! She was a white witch! "But, how did you know? I didn’t even know. Did you read my mind?" "Of course, silly. I always knew that you really appreciated my style of dress and one day, before you told me you loved me, which I had nothing to do with by the way, I reached into your mind when I noticed you admiring my dress and as I recall, my 3 ½ " red patina heels and heard, and I quote, "Man, I’ve wanted to look like that since I can ever remember. She’s so pretty and sexy. I’m a lucky guy. I shouldn’t be complaining. (You then let out a sigh and said) well Greg, you may as well stop dreaming. This is as good as it gets. It isn’t in the cards. Besides, you’re too tall."

"Well, darling, I shuffled the cards for you. Now we have identical bodies and you can wear all the pretty things you always wanted to and I can still be made love to with Greg’s male member or not, if you wish. It will return on demand." "When you return to work as Jeannie, I want you to be complete. I want to give you all the experiences you missed growing up a boy and all the knowledge you would have acquired as you became a woman. Would you like that?" "Will they really seem like my own experiences?" "Absolutely. The face in the mental pictures will be a version of you as you are now."

"Please Samantha. How do we do it?" "Let me get something." She returned with an orb and placed it between us on the dining room table then lit two candles and turned off the lights.

"Now Jeannie, hold my hands and close your eyes and believe it or not, this will only take five minutes. When we are done, you won’t have to give a second thought to any of your words or actions. They will all be completely female. There are a few quirks built into the spell. The ring insures your fidelity to me. You cannot even think of being otherwise. However, I want you to experience lovemaking as woman, because you deserve the full experience. I have a handsome single friend who has never seen you this way and he will take you out on a date and you may sleep with him and fully experience our joy of womanhood. However, you cannot get pregnant unless I will it and who knows, I just may do that.

Also, after this next experience, the next time you open your mouth to speak, it will be with an unmistakable female voice. Your singing range will be soprano to E above high C, a little higher than mine, and I know that you would like to sing in the church choir and now you will be able to and be a soloist." I gratefully took her hands in mine without saying a word and closed my eyes. I guess it was something like dying. Thousands upon thousands of words and images flashed by at light speed and yet I felt them all and that I actually HAD those experiences; school, girlfriends, boys, clothes and hair, cosmetics, family relationships as a girl, all of it seemed real. Each picture had a book of text with it and I archived it. And then, it was over. I opened my eyes and they saw with a woman’s eyes this lovely witch that I had the good fortune to marry. I arose, walked in a perfect female gait in my dress and pumps around the table, took her in my arms and kissed her with great tenderness. I could feel her reading my mind and in my mind I heard, "you’re welcome darling."

The End.

© 1998
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