This is a work of FICTION for ADULTS only. Do NOT read this if you are under 18 or if you are not an adult according to the laws of your state or country. Do NOT read this if you are offended by fantasies involving sexually explicit material.

Written by Bethany Jacques.
Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

A Suitable Case for Treatment                      by: Bethany Jacques

 

"Shut the fuck up will you?"

I was annoyed, extremely annoyed. Whatever I said, however I tried to work with the counsellor, Pauline seemed to try to undermine me. So I swore.

"OK Christopher, go on, blame me, as if it’s all my fault, go on, AGAIN!"

"AGAIN! AGAIN!"

"Quiet you two! QUIET!!"

We were quiet. I looked across at Pauline, she was simmering, angry, upset.

So was I. Dr. Morgan spoke again, in more measured tones this time.

"Mr. And Mrs. King. I am almost at the end of my tether. I think it’s fair to say I have never ever had to counsel a couple who seemed to me more suited for divorce"

"NO!"

Pauline and I shouted together almost in unison. We both looked at Dr. Morgan again.

"OK. Tell me again, Mr. King, without ANY interruption at all from you, Mrs. King, why I should go on with this. My colleague Dr. Elliott called me last night to discuss your situation after your last meeting with her. She is convinced there is no hope and I am beginning to wonder if she is not right. So tell me Mr. King, why should we bother. You and your wife seem to argue most of the time, loudly, sometimes violently. You do not appreciate each other at all. So, do tell."

I had to think. In many ways Dr. Morgan was right. After several years of happy marriage Pauline and I seemed to have moved apart. I looked across at Pauline, that at the Doctor.

"We’ve spent the past five years arguing more and more, at home, in public, with our friends, wherever. But all those years ago we made a commitment to each other and, for both of us, we really do want the marriage to begin to work again unless there is absolutely no hope whatsoever."

Dr. Morgan looked at me, then at Pauline.

"Well, you two, you have to realise that the moment may have come. This is the fourth counselling service you have tried - and it is probably your last chance. After this there is nowhere to go. And we have tried almost everything, individual sessions, joint sessions with Dr. Elliott and with myself. You always seem to start out co-operatively - and end up fighting. I think it may be time for a short separation."

Pauline decided it was her turn to speak.

"We’ve tried that, Doctor, we lived apart for nearly four weeks - but to be honest I missed the great lump, I just had to come back home."

"Yes, and didn’t you look a sight when you came in!" I said, grinning. I don’t know why, I just said it.

"A sight. A SIGHT!! You would have looked a sight, I’d walked half a mile in the rain, you never turned up at the station!"

"Of course I didn’t, I couldn’t get out of work, could I? Not at that time on a Monday!" I shouted

"Quiet you two! QUIET! Right. This is it. The end. I have only one suggestion to make."

We both sat and looked at him expectantly. He pressed a button on his intercom.

"Frances, will you ask Dr. Elliott to come in now please?"

The other doctor came in and sat next to Dr. Morgan, they both peered intently, very seriously, at the both of us. Finally Dr. Elliott looked at her partner and just said "Yes".

Yes what? Neither of us knew what was really going on. And if we had known what was to come I am absolutely sure we would both have exploded in sheer disbelief and walked out. But the doctors broke it to us gently.

"Right then. Mr. and Mrs. King. We have one suggestion. Only one. Either you go along with this or we can’t help. Willing to trust us?"

Pauline and I were silent, realising from Dr. Morgan’s tone that something serious was going on. Pauline looked at me, she knew what I thought, we had no choice really.

"OK, you’re on" she replied. "What do you want us to do?"

"Hold on a moment" said Dr. Morgan. "You need some details before you commit

yourselves. This is a new treatment, we’ve only ever tried it four times in all. And one of those worked. That couple are now very happy indeed. I do have to say the other three all did end up in divorce. It’s a rather unconventional treatment, so we have a rather odd way of administering it. You pay 10% - £1000 - up front. If the treatment is successful you pay the rest, £9000, in a couple of weeks time, as soon as we are sure of success."

"And if it doesn’t work?" I asked.

"Well, you’ll need all your money for the lawyers for the divorce. So no extra payment, we write that one off. But I hope it doesn’t come to that, I reckon you two do still have a chance, and this could well be the way to sort out your problems."

"OK then, so what do we have to do?" I was getting a little impatient, the doctors seem to be hedging round the real matter in hand.

"Right then, Mr. King, first things first." Dr. Morgan opened his desk drawer to remove a bundle op papers and spread them in front of us. It was some sort of contract, indeed it had our names already printed at the top. Obviously he was prepared, I suppose he would have just junked them if we had said no.

"You need to read and sign these, at the bottom of both sheets, both of you."

We both read them through, there were disclaimers galore but the documents were pretty thin on exactly what would be involved, and I said so.

"That’s deliberate, Mr. King. Please trust us, we know what we are doing. And be assured, Dr. Elliot and I are pretty sure you will be successful in this treatment. You can back out at any time up to midnight on Sunday, which is when the treatment will start. "

I looked at Pauline - yes, we were going to go for it, whatever it was. We signed.

"Very well. Mr. And Mrs. King, that will be all for now. Please, go away, really think about this. And if you are sure you want to go ahead, come back - on Sunday, please, in the morning. We’ll set you up on the programme, Dr. Elliott and I will be here. I know it’s a little awkward at the weekend but I assure you, that’s what is needed. See you then."

Pauline and I left, still wondering what we had let ourselves in for. And on Sunday we did return. After asking again if we wanted to continue Pauline left with Dr. Elliott to go to her office. That in itself wasn’t unusual, we had been through several interviews both together and apart. But this time - after calling through on his intercom - we were joined by a rather striking woman. Ms Matthews, she was introduced as, I later found her name was Karen.

And we left together, Karen and I, crossing the street outside the offices, walking a little way down the road past the few Sunday shoppers, to another small office block. The sign outside said simply ‘Changes’. I wondered what was going on, it was strange walking with another woman, not Pauline, was this some sort of ‘sexual’ treatment I was to be put through? With Karen? Surely not, that would be no way to mend a marriage. But on the other hand Dr. Morgan had said this was to be an unconventional treatment.

But no, nothing sexual, not in that way at least. I was wary at first when Karen introduced me to her partner, James, who asked me to strip off. Totally. He gave me a robe and took me into a small shower area just off the ‘office’ area. Odd.

Then he asked me to take a shower and to use a special sort of shampoo - but not on my head, he said, just over my body. Just before I was going to do it he warned me.

"There’s a depilatory in there, be ready, you haven’t got a lot of body hair. This stuff will remove what there is."

I looked at him, somewhat amazed. What was going on? Then it clicked. Changes! That’s what it meant. The ‘office’ wasn’t an office at all, it was the back room of some sort of shop. I could see clothes hanging up, behind the door, on a rail in the small room off this office area. Changes! That meant what it said - I was going to change. Karen came in from the next-door room, carrying a bra!

I realised then what was going on - or at least I thought I did. Ms. Matthews, Karen, was going to dress me as a woman, maybe get me to spend the whole day dressed, and walk about and so on dressed like that. To give me some idea of what it was like, to make me appreciate better just what it was like to be a woman. OK, a bit strange but I could go with that, it seemed a reasonable way to begin whatever this course of treatment was so I went along with it.

I did the shower, washing away the hairs on my body, no great loss. I was never a hairy-gorilla type of guy anyway. Then Karen told me that James was going to help with the ‘private parts’. I knew what she meant, this could be a bit embarrassing. Only slightly less so with a man but I appreciated the consideration. Anyway James did what he said. Lay me down on a bed on my back, then began to do something ‘down below’.

"Hey there James, be careful down there!" I joked.

"It’s OK, sir, I know what I’m doing, you’re in for a bit of a surprise."

He finished whatever it was, I couldn’t see but I could feel something constricting me down there in some way. I relaxed though. After all whatever this was Dr. Morgan had set it up, and I trusted him. I tried to relax but James hadn’t really finished. I could see this time - he was smearing a thin paste over my chest.

"OK Mr. King, you don’t have to but you might prefer to close your eyes for the next minute."

I did, and felt him pressing on my chest. I opened my eyes and tried to look down. Streuth, I had tits! Pretty big ones, actually, at the time I didn’t know the size, later it turned out I needed a 38DD bra to hold them in. But at that time I was just plain interested. Right then Karen came back in. I was a little concerned, I was as far as I knew still naked down below.

"OK Mr. King, now to smoothe off the edges. This make-up on your boobs is pretty good stuff. With any luck you won’t see much of a join. Now, OK, sit up."

I did just that and was amazed. Firstly the fake boobs really were very lifelike, the colour was almost exactly that of my own skin. And secondly - I could just see past them when I leaned over - I had a pussy. A latex cover, again skin-coloured, covered my testicles, it was suitably hairy in just the right places and had a slit below for me to pee through.

"Wow, that is really realistic. But is it necessary to go to all this bother, after all I assume I’m not going to be naked all day."

"Oh no, Mr. King, you are not. But the tits are so you get a good idea of what it’s like to have big boobs, and the cover below is - well - so you will have to sit down to pee and so on. The tube inside it leads down so you can function properly in that area. OK?"

Sure, it was OK, I stood up and walked round a little, getting used to the jiggling of my breasts. Then Karen took out from a set of drawers a rather sexy set of undies, bra and panties, suspender set and stockings. I had always liked it when Pauline had dressed like that for me, now I was going to find out what it was really like.

The dressing was fun, specially my own efforts to adjust the bra straps. Eventually Karen had it done to her satisfaction, as she said, to show ‘just the right amount of cleavage to be tantalising’. After that it was the blouse and the skirt, the first was white - I was rather excited to see that it didn’t totally hide the black bra - and the second was black, a slim pencil skirt which reached down to about 9" above my knees.

By now I really was getting into this.

And then Karen did my makeup, that took longer than I had imagined, maybe because I had to shave my face three times first and she probably had to use more care than she would have with a real woman. I specially liked having the nails done, longish but not too long and cherry coloured to match my lipstick. I was desperate to see what I looked like but Karen wouldn’t let me see.

She made me sit down again and picked up a large box, taking from it - a wig. And what a wig, long hair, slightly curly and an attractive darkish blonde colour. She moved behind me and started to fit it.

I could see this was going to be difficult for me to manage. Once, many years ago I had grown my hair quite long though nothing like this. I had found it very difficult to deal with adequately and was pleased when Pauline had said I should have it cut shorter. And anyway, by now, my hair is receding somewhat, any attempt to do that again would look silly.

Karen finished the fitting and brushed it down the back and sides, I could feel the very different touch on the sides of my face.

"Nearly finished Mr. King. Right now, pierced ears are obviously out but I think these will look good."

She pulled the hair to one side - I could see the clip earrings, rather large thick gold hoops, and very soon felt them hanging down from my ears.

"Right then. Finally. I think a thin scarf tied round the neck, you really don’t have much of an Adam’s apple so there shouldn’t be much of a problem there. And rings, three I think, let me slide them on. But not on your ring finger my dear. For now you’re a single woman, footloose and fancy free. Now, slip your feet into these."

And at my feet she placed a pair of shoes. Ladies’ shoes, obviously. I thought the heels were rather high, maybe 3" but I wasn’t arguing. I wanted to get to the end of this. I slid my feet in and stood up, wobbling a little at first but after only a few steps I got the hang of them. A bit like ice-skating, I took to that very quickly too. I turned to look towards the big mirror but Karen was standing in the way, holding out a pale blue jacket. She made me turn my back on her to put it on and was still standing there as I turned round, pulling the front over my ‘breasts’.

"Leave it open, dear, you’ll get used to that!" she said jokingly. I took the black handbag she offered me, realising this was the moment. By chance James chose exactly that moment to come through from the other room.

"So, James, tell me, how have we done?"

I was desperate to see for myself but Karen wanted to hear his verdict first.

"Wow, Ms. Matthews. A great job. Really. I mean, we’ve done better in the past but we’ve done an awful lot worse. I am impressed, you’ve done a great make-over."

"Now then, it’s Christopher isn’t it. Or rather it was. Now you can see, feast your eyes on Christine."

She stood to one side. I looked. I was amazed. Really, amazed. I was looking at a woman. OK, not the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen in my life but a woman nevertheless. Maybe about ten years younger than I actually was in appearance, and although not beautiful by any means, certainly in some ways ‘attractive’ or something close to that. I stared.

The hair and make-up, the jewellery. The clothes and, though I say it myself, not a bad figure at all. And the legs, black stockings and high heels, I had always gone for those, I loved Pauline’s legs when she dressed like that. And they certainly had the same effect on mine. I posed, I turned this way and that, I was delighted. I was not entirely sure of the point of it all but I supposed that in some way I had gained a little further insight into being a woman.

"OK then Christine. It’s nearly two o’clock, had you realised? We’ve been at this over four hours. Have to speed up next time."

Next time? I didn’t have time to ask, as I turned to speak Karen had slipped her own coat on and grabbed her bag.

"Ready for lunch, Christine. Just a sandwich and a cuppa, there’s a very nice small café over the road. Come on."

Lunch? Café? She was surely not serious. My puzzlement obviously showed.

"You didn’t think this was just so you could admire yourself in the mirror did you, Christine? Dr. Morgan’s instructions are quite clear. Dress and then lunch."

"I can’t - I mean - go out. Not like this!"

"You can my dear, and you will. I am hungry and I can’t leave you here alone, and certainly not with James. Don’t worry, just follow my lead. Let me do the talking. If you have to just keep your voice gentle. I’ve taken several clients into that café so they are used to some not-very-convincing ‘girls’ going in there with me. But I can assure you, as far as you are concerned, absolutely no-one will know. You really do look the part."

She opened the door and stood beside it. I had no choice. I went out into the wide world, in a blouse and skirt, stockings and heels. Would that be all? I began to wonder. I meekly followed Karen as she headed out towards the street. She turned and smiled at me again and whispered "Don’t worry. Honest. You look good, really good."

She took my arm and we strolled over the road. A taxi had to stop quite quickly to avoid hitting us. She smiled at the driver. He smiled back at her - and at me! And I could swear his eyes moved down to look at my legs!

In the café we sat at a table well away from the door. Karen was obviously a regular, a waitress smiled at her as she took our order. Karen ordered for me - a small sandwich and a glass of milk. I was so nervous and excited I couldn’t have managed any more. I sipped the milk and nibbled the sandwich. Karen leaned over and whispered to me.

"You’re doing brilliantly, Christine. But you might have a problem. Don’t look now but - the guy near the door, he’s staring at your legs. If you will cross them like that - I am sure he can see your stocking tops!"

I started. OK, this was all new to me, being out like that and being seen as a woman. But in truth I felt a little bit ashamed. I just didn’t want to be thought of as that sort of woman. I shuffled slightly. My perspective had already changed. If I had been the one looking I might have been all for it, craning my own neck to see up a woman’s skirt.

"We need to go, Christine, time is getting on" said Karen, standing up and picking up her bag. I got my own handbag and we left the café together, I was quite proud of myself and enjoying this, in a way regretting that I would have to get changed into my suit again. But not yet, that soon became obvious as Karen put her arm through mine and steered me back down the road. My nervousness surfaced again, we were heading back towards the centre of town.

I soon realised why. We were walking towards the doctors’ offices, I was obviously going to have to show Dr. Morgan how well I had done, something like that. Maybe he wanted to quiz me on how I had felt being seen as a woman. As we approached the junction I looked across and saw Dr. Elliott leaving with two men, they turned quickly and headed off, I think towards the car park. Karen hurried me along, I had to skip slightly to keep up as we crossed the road. But again drivers stopped, no road rage at all, they seemed not to mind me crossing in front of them.

"Well?" asked Dr. Morgan, as Karen and I sat in his office.

Karen looked at me, then at him.

"Yes" was all she said, then turned and left.

"Right then Mr. King. And that’s the last time I’ll call you that for some time. Christine, is it? Well Christine, you are probably wondering what all this is about. Any ideas?"

"I think I’ve got it, Doctor. Making me dress like this, I have to say that on several occasions in the past hour I have appreciated just what it is like - to be seen as a woman that is. I’ve got a bit of a better idea of what Pauline has to go through. I think it might make a difference."

"Good. A great start. Ready for the rest of the programme?"

I had been wondering - this was day one, it was supposed to be a five-day course, what else would I be doing? In only a few minutes Dr. Morgan explained it to me. It rather took my breath away. To dress like this and go into the café, even walk down the street, was one thing. But to stay like this, to be a woman for the whole week, I was really not sure at all.

"What about my wife? My job? And I can’t go home, surely you realise that, I daren’t let the neighbours see me like this. Am I supposed to do everything I normally do? Go to work? Go in the pub? Well Dr. Morgan, the answer is no!"

"Christine, I can answer all those questions. Of course we wouldn’t want you embarrassed like that. Let me explain."

And explain he did. Apparently he had already phoned my boss, said I was not well and had to have some tests, it may be unwise for me to work for a week but he could almost guarantee I would be back next Monday. And I wouldn’t be living at home, he had rented a small house near the river, it was mine for the duration. And work too, that was all sorted. Total female immersion was essential, he said. So I would be working in a shop, a charity shop, for the two weeks, with three other women!

That was it. That was too much. It was one thing to give me the chance to see things in some way through Pauline’s eyes. It was quite another to humiliate me in front of others, especially three women.

"OK. No. NO!! That is just not on!!"

"Christine, calm down. Yes it is on. And it is going to happen. Let me remind you of the terms of our agreement. First, this is your last chance. If you do not go through with this, Dr. Elliott and I will wipe our hands of you. I guarantee you will end up in the divorce courts within two months. And second, you have signed to pay us the full fee if you back out in any situation other than an emergency. The full £10 000."

He had me there. We had both signed it. And I really couldn’t go back to Pauline and say I had blown our very final chance. Apart from the money, he was right, it would be divorce and very soon indeed. I just had to go through with it. I could tell by his face, he knew I had no choice.

"Christine, don’t worry. Believe me, you can do this. And I have every reason to believe, from what I know of you and of - er - Mrs. King - that you will get back together, in every sense of the word, after all this is over. Now, we have a short drive, come with me. I’ll explain more on the way and when we get there."

We went down together and along to the car park. It did indeed feel odd, walking dressed as I was with a man beside me. I was careful not to show too much leg, both getting into his car and as we drove along. But it was difficult, I was getting slightly turned on by the feeling of my short-ish skirt and nylon stockings sliding on the leather seats of Dr. Morgan’s rather up-market car. It was less than half a mile, Dr. Morgan turned right as we reached to bottom of a hill, just before reaching the bridge over the river.

Just before turning he had pointed out a shop in a small arcade, apparently the charity shop where somehow I was to work for the week. Round the corner, then about fifty yards down the road he stopped, outside a small ‘cottage’ - that’s what the estate agents would have called it. Not a proper country cottage but a small two-up, two-down town house. I knew that, Pauline and I had once, several years earlier, been to a party in a similar house down the road. A mutual friend, who had left the area some time ago.

We walked towards the door, Dr. Morgan took a key from his pocket and opened it, then stood aside to let me in. As he closed the door behind us he handed over the small key-ring.

"These are yours, Christine, now let’s go in and I’ll finish the explanation."

Basically there was not much else to say, he’d told me all I needed to know in the office and on the way. I was to live as ‘Christine’ for the remainder of the week, and report to his office on the Friday afternoon for the assessment - and to become Christopher again! Until then I was a woman. Living in the ‘bachelor pad’, shopping, working, doing everything as a woman. I was till slightly concerned.

"What about my wife?"

"Christine, in no way are you to phone home, to try to contact Pauline at any time. That would totally invalidate the programme. You have to promise me that. We do have emergency plans, in case of something serious like a death in your family and so on. But that’s for a real emergency, not because you’ve burned a cake or laddered your tights or something. You have to promise me."

"OK". I had to.

"And one more thing. We’ve come up with a code word. Constantinople. It’s unlikely to come up in conversation. One of the women you’ll be working with knows you are a client of mine, though she doesn’t know your particular difficulties. If you need to drop out just mention it - say you were on holiday there or something. Then she’ll reveal herself and contact me. Or you can call me, my number is by the phone in the hall. Leave the word with my answering service. They will ring me immediately if anyone calls with that code word. I know it sounds a bit James Bond-ish, but it will work."

And that was it really. Dr. Watson extended his hand to me.

"Good luck Christine. Have a good time, I just know you are going to come out of this with flying colours. I have to go, see you on Friday."

And he was off. I was on my own.

I sat on the small sofa and looked round. The small house was - very nice. Neatly decorated, well-enough furnished or so it seemed. First I slipped off my shoes, they were beginning to make my feet hurt slightly. Then I set off to explore. The lounge looked out at the front of the house, over the narrow road, onto a very attractive view of the river. In the early evening sunshine it really did look nice, one or two groups of swans gently floating by. The kitchen likewise had not too bad a view, over a small lawned garden to trees which hid the houses behind.

Upstairs there were two bedrooms, one medium-sized, one small and the bathroom. OK it was quite a bit smaller than I was used to but I had lived in much more cramped accommodation in my student days. I pattered back into the kitchen in my bare feet and found the kettle, deciding that a coffee was in order. Wait a moment, I thought, what’s in the fridge?

OK, only two cans of beer, but that would do for now. I opened one and then realised - I was supposed to be ‘being’ a woman. I found a tall glass and poured it in before drinking it down. So much had already happened that day, I needed it, and it wasn’t yet six o’clock!

I spent another hour looking round, in the drawers downstairs and then in the wardrobes in the main bedroom. Someone had put a lot of thought into this, there was a substantial range of clothing for the ‘new me’, suits, skirts, undies, a couple of dresses, shoes - TWELVE pairs! I’ve always had a thing about Pauline in sexy shoes. One pair in there really caught my attention me - I wondered just what whoever had worked this out had been thinking of

They were boots, not shoes. But what boots! A shiny black p.v.c., thigh length and very high heeled indeed. In fact the shoes did tend towards higher heels, there were two pairs of about 2" high, the others were all higher, some very much so, apart from two pairs of trainers.

I hunted through ‘my’ undies drawers too, and the dressing table, loads of make-up, jewellery, mainly costume probably, in fact certainly. I noticed the earrings were all clips, thought had indeed gone into this. The top drawer contained a short note - ‘This is for you Christine, it should last you. Phone if you need more. E.M.’ Edward Morgan, it must be. With the note was an envelope containing money, I counted £200 in all, probably taken out of my £1000. Should be enough for a single girl for the week..

I realised I had been ‘on the go’ nearly all day and could do with a bit of a rest, but needed to use the bathroom first. That was a new experience, pulling down my panties and sitting, I was delighted the ‘falsie’ did its job, it felt a bit weird peeing through the internal tube - but it worked.

I went back downstairs and did myself a coffee, then sat in the garden on a small bench for a while, relaxing. Looking through into the kitchen and lounge I realised this was not going to be bad, ‘being’ female and on my own for over a week. I wondered how Pauline was getting on at home without me. Probably enjoying the peace and quiet. I thought of phoning her but I realised what Dr. Morgan had said. Maybe the phone was bugged, anyway the bill would probably list itemised calls. Better not risk it, after all £9 000 was at stake, and maybe our future too.

Then I noticed, on the side of the fridge, one of those magnetic list stickers. I went in and looked closely. It was personalised - ‘Christine’s Shopping List’! And written below - ‘bread, tights, toothpaste’. I realised I hadn’t seen any tights in the bedroom. And no bread in the kitchen. This was deliberate - to force me to go shopping! Back on the main street about fifty yards away was the small parade of shops, including one local ‘supermarket’ on the corner which probably stayed open late, even on a Sunday.

I went upstairs again to change but realised it wasn’t worth it. The one problem was the shoes, the little toe had been rubbing slightly. And I did rather like the look of the higher heels. I tried a different pair of 3" black court shoes - perfect! I grabbed my handbag and keys, locked the back door, and headed out of the front and up the road. I passed about three people on the way, in turn they all smiled, two said ‘Good evening’, with absolutely no hint they saw me as anything other than I seemed to be. This was fun!

In the little shop, not really a proper supermarket though that’s what it called itself, I wandered briefly round the shelves, finding the bread and the toothpaste and a couple of other items I thought I could use. Before going back to the counter the ‘feminine hygiene’ display caught my eye. I picked up a small pack of tampons, maybe to convince the man at the checkout about me. And then I saw the ‘Hosiery’ stand.

I looked through the display, recognising some of the brand names from magazines I had read. There wasn’t much choice of tights, I got two pairs of black, three of a light tan, all labelled ‘One Size’ which I knew would fit me. Surprisingly there were several pairs of stockings on display, I spent a few minutes looking through the packs. I chose several, all black, which I rather liked the idea of. Some were ‘10 denier hold-ups’ and the label said they had seams, the others were fishnets.

I was tempted by the small display of makeup I could see at the other side of the store, but decided I had done enough. I was really having fun, it was a nice feeling being seen as a girl, but I didn’t want to overdo it at first. At the checkout I paid, again getting positive looks from the man who was serving.

Then a voice spoke behind me. I started.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Did I just see you going into number 23, I’m Jason, I’m at number 19. Pleased to meet you."

A neighbour. Just for a moment, since I wasn’t expecting to be greeted, I had assumed it was someone who knew me - and had ‘spotted’ me. I was so relieved, I hoped Jason would not have mis-interpreted my smile. I calmed quickly and tried to speak quietly as Karen had recommended.

"Hello there, I’m Christine. Yes, I’m staying there for a while. The house is rented."

Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I didn’t want to give him the impression I was a permanent resident.

"And was that your husband I saw leaving, or maybe your boyfriend? I think these houses are ideal for couples or single people, don’t you?"

He was fishing. Obviously. I like to think I would have been a lot more subtle in his situation.

"Er - no, it was just - the estate agent person" I replied, smiling and turning away, not really sure how I was managing my first encounter with a male in that situation. Man - to - woman, I mean. I headed for the door and got out, I had tried not to be rude but wanted out of there.

I walked quite briskly back down the road, and calmed as I went, by the time I got to my front door I was much more relaxed. I looked back towards the shop but Jason wasn’t following, maybe he was doing quite a bit of shopping. But I didn’t go in, I crossed the road and sat for just a short while, enjoying the last of the evening sun, facing the river, the swans. I was only fifty yards from the bridge and the main road, yet it was so quiet, so peaceful there. I looked around, there were children playing over the other side of the river, a boat passed me, two young men out sculling, maybe they were from a club? Of course, I realised where I was now, the County boathouse was maybe half a mile upstream.

I was jolted out of my reverie as an older couple passed, themselves out for an evening stroll. We exchanged a ‘Good evening’, as I watched them pass I noticed Jason, bag in hand, coming down the street. Quickly I got together my shopping and my handbag and headed back over the road and into ‘my’ house, again keen not to overdo any meetings on my first evening as a member of the gentler sex.

I spent a while looking through the house and - I have to admit - the wardrobe again, cooked myself a small ‘microwave’ meal I found in the small freezer, then decided to have a lazy female evening and watch a little TV. I surprised myself by watching a ‘fashion’ programme for a while, it seemed that short skirts were ‘in’ again, and low heels too. I liked the sound of the first but not the second. I had found the little drinks cabinet in the lounge and got myself a gin - and - tonic, sitting there slowly sipping it and imagining myself as a woman I just began to nod off. But before I did the programme finished, the main news programme came on. I watched it through and then, to my satisfaction, found that I needed some male input - I watched a half-hour of football highlights. Villa had lost again, shame!

Then, time for bed. I locked up and headed up to the bedroom, closed the curtains ready to strip. I had found my sleeping attire, a thin black night-dress, very sexy looking indeed, diaphanous I think it’s called, not a ‘baby-doll’ but a bit longer. I held it up against me looking into the mirror. I took off my undies and slid it on.

I felt foolish, but in some way it was thrilling. What did it mean? Dunno. In the bathroom I used the cleansing cream to take off my make-up, brushed my teeth, sat down on the toilet and did what I needed to, amazed that in every sense my ‘plumbing’ seemed to be fully functional. Then I crawled into bed, pulled the light cord, and slept.

I slept really well, it must have been the sheer quantity of excitement the day before. I had set ‘my’ alarm rather early so that I would have plenty of time to get ready. For work. Work! I was going to be working, dressed up, being a woman in such company all day, the thought terrified me until I realised the reason I was going through all this.

I showered, sorted a deep red lacy bra - and - panties set to wear for the day, then opened the wardrobe and took out a ‘working suit’, a deep maroon with a thin grey stripe, longish jacket cut very nicely at the waist. Very classy, I thought. I chose a white blouse too and spent some time putting it on. The small gold buttons were unfamiliar and difficult with my longish nails but I did manage, also sliding on two gold rings and a small, quite pretty I thought, gold bracelet. The shoes I had selected the evening before, also maroon, again with a heel of about 2 ½ " like the ones I had worn the day before. But these had ankle straps, with small gold buckles, again rather awkward to fasten up but I persisted. The wig came next, I felt more ‘dressed’ with it in place.

I was getting a little behind time and, once downstairs, put together a small rapid breakfast, fruit juice, a little cereal and a cup of coffee. I was beginning to worry about the time, it was after eight and I was due at the shop before nine, I had estimated it was about a twenty minute walk from the house. I sat at the small dressing table, my make-up at the ready, really wishing I had more time. I was new to this, and not sure I could do a perfect job in the time. Though I hadn’t realised it, my ‘guardian angel’ was at hand. I heard a noise downstairs.

"Christine, it’s me, Karen, can I come up? How are you doing?"

Karen came in and gave me the once-over.

"Great outfit, Christine, I told Dr. Morgan I might like to come in and help, just this first morning. Here, let me do that, take your wig off for a while please, then I’ll fix it properly in a while. Now, watch carefully while I do this, you really are going to have to do it yourself after today. Pass me that tube please, don’t worry, there is plenty of time. We’ll get you looking gorgeous and there on time."

I was so relieved Karen had come, maybe I could have done OK but at least she made sure, gave me a good start to the day. I did pay special attention as she watched me doing my make-up, foundation, blusher, eye-shadow, mascara, eye-liner, as she passed comments on my performance, only once having to help, to give my lashes the right amount of curl with the mascara brush. Then I smoothed on my lipstick while she sorted the wig. With it firmly in place, and a pair of gold hoop earrings, I finally grabbed my jacket and handbag and was ready.

"OK Christine, I did tell Dr. Morgan I wouldn’t drive you but just to be sure you are there on time let me give you a lift. OK? I don’t want you ho have to hurry, you do seem very composed this morning Christine. You are doing really well so far, and I don’t want to spoil it."

Of course I agreed. As we walked out to her car we heard a voice.

"Morning Christine". It was Jason, just giving me a friendly greeting as he drove off, presumably to work.

"Well Christine, you are a fast worker!" said Karen, grinning at me. "I’m not sure men are in the script here."

"Oh no, we just met briefly in the shop last night’ I explained, rather embarrassed.

As we drove the half mile to the shop Karen again confided in me, that she had done several ‘transformations’ for Dr. Morgan. But she did say she really thought, despite what James had said the day before, that I was the best.

"And I do know Dr. Morgan has made special arrangements for a real emergency. But if it’s a problem rather than an emergency, give me a ring, the shop number is in the book. I’m not sure whether I am supposed to help you but I will if I can."

Karen dropped me about 50 yards from the shop, at just before five-to-nine, I would have been late if I had walked. I strolled, not enormously confidently, up to the door, pushed it open and walked in.

"Sorry, we’re not quite open yet"

The voice came from another woman (another - were there two of us there?) sorting things out behind the counter. I tried to look confident, to ‘be’ Christine.

"Hi, I’m Christine King, I understand you are expecting me."

"Oh, sorry, I had forgotten. OK, welcome, do come in. I’m Mary, I’m the manager, the other girls should be here soon. It looks bad when the newcomer beats the regulars in doesn’t it? Ah, here they come now."

I turned and looked as two other women, much younger, probably close to my supposed age, came in laughing and giggling. They calmed as soon as they saw me. Mary introduced us.

"This is Christine, meet Jacqui and Tanya, two of the hottest properties around. If you’re into men just hang around these two and pick up one of their cast offs!"

"Mary, that is so unkind. It’s Jacqui who’s the slut, I just keep her company!"

More giggling and laughing, Mary smiled, I had to too.

"OK girls, come on, we’ve a shop to open in fifteen seconds.

The trio set to it efficiently, organising the till, clearing several bags which contained ‘donations’, beginning to go through the mail and generally making themselves presentable for the customers. Not that there was a great rush, it was nearly half an hour before the first one arrived. During that time Mary gave me a tour of the small shop, the two back rooms, the ladies’ toilets (ladies!), and went through various organisational items like fire drill, emergency procedures and so on.

I had thought I might find things difficult during the day, awkward, watching my back all the time, trying desperately not to slip up. But that just didn’t happen. I won’t say it was easy but it went al awful lot better than I had imagined. The girls were great, helping the ‘newcomer’ with problems, explaining exactly how things were done here.

And there was a lot to do. My own background in retail was a definite plus, though I hadn’t worked in a small shop of that type for quite some time. Details about cash and change, what to do with a slightly difficult customer, how to cope at busy times, I pulled through in all these situations. Admittedly the shop was never really busy but just before lunchtime, when the four of us were due to split off to go off for our separate breaks, I had to serve a man!

We dealt mainly with clothes, split just about 60/40 women’s and men’s with some children’s items. But there was some household bric-a-brac, things people had passed on which might have some small retail value and which could earn a little for charity. The guy who came in spent some time looking through a collection of books I had just been sorting, mainly thrillers and romances, you know the sort of thing. He came up to me at the counter with one rather old hard-back.

"How much?" he asked, looking straight at me without a hint of recognition.

I knew the book box was an extra, just some items we could maybe get a few pence for, we charged £1 regardless and I told him this.

"OK" he said, then hesitated. "Look, I can’t do this. You may just see this an old book but I am a bit of an expert. It’s an early print of a Sherlock Holmes story, nearly a century old. How about I give you half of its’ catalogue value? Is that fair?"

I muttered yes.

"He took out his wallet and handed over, in cash, a hundred and fifty pounds!" I was amazed.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. If I sold this at auction next week I could get at least £300. I won’t, I’m a collector. If you get anything else like this, give me a ring will you? Here’s my card."

He handed over a business card, I looked at it.

‘Keith Grainger LL B. ‘ and a phone number. I recognised the letters, he was a lawyer, very up-in-the-world, and he could obviously afford it. His whole manner, and the suit he was wearing, said that. And he was honest.

I told Mary at once, she was amazed. "After lunch we’ll have a good look through that box, and I think we’ve two more in the back. You never know. That’s boosted the takings, must be a record for a Tuesday morning."

It was my turn for lunch, and Tanya too, we both set off out of the shop together. I admit I hadn’t the faintest idea where, I had just thought of a sandwich maybe somewhere, but still no idea where.

"Look Christine, why not join me. I’m meeting my boyfriend at that pavement café in Hardiman Street, just round the corner."

"Oh no, I don’t want to be a gooseberry" I said, not wanting to butt in.

"No problems, not at lunchtime anyway. It may be different for dinner in my flat, but not here, not now. Come on."

So I did. We walked together, just like the couple we seemed to be, two working women on their way to lunch. We only had a half-hour so it was as well we weren’t going far. We sat at the café in the sunshine, very pleasant for that time of year, and ordered a small sandwich and a glass of wine each. The waiter had just brought them when a professional-looking guy, pinstripe suit, loud tie and gold-rimmed spectacles, approached us and gave Jacqui a peck on the cheek. She introduced us, he was Gerald, a medical student from the University, almost fully qualified and looking forward to joining a practice later in the year. I really was the odd-one-out, Gerald had just found out about a surgery in East Wales, it sounded like a great place, who were looking for another doctor to join their team.

However, after a few minutes discussing this, Jacqui turned her attention to me.

"So, tell me Christine, what’s a woman like you doing working in a shop like ours? No pay, long hours, there has to be a reason."

I had my story worked out with as few actual lies in as possible. I was separated from my partner for a while, we were trying to get it together but thought we needed some time apart. I was living in a small house down by the river for a while. I had some experience in retail and thought, for a while, that working in a charity shop would be interesting and rewarding.

I got through the lunchtime grilling OK and was pleased with myself. The afternoon was rather different, I was given the task of sorting through the bags of donations which had been left at the shop, into useless, doubtful and definitely saleable. It was interesting seeing the sort of things, specially clothes, which people had off-loaded. Tanya caught me, in the back room in the middle of the afternoon, standing in front of the mirror in there holding a short denim skirt up against myself, trying to imagine what it would look like, whether it would fit.

"Yes, Christine, it suits you. Take it."

"I can’t, it was donated, for the charity."

"I know, but you have to pay for it. Pay the going rate, that’s about £2 I would imagine. Looks good on you too. If we want anything we take it and pay. The charity saves money, in fact, everything gets cleaned before it goes on sale, you’ll have to wash it yourself. Not dry-clean is it? No, thought not. Put £2 in the till and wash it through tonight, it’s yours."

So I took it. I was buying women’s clothes now!

The rest of the afternoon passed off without incident., at half past five we locked up and headed our separate ways. I was the only one going down the hill, all the other three were off to catch buses, walking the other way. It was not so sunny but quite pleasant and I was revelling in it, in walking back ‘home’ after a day’s work, and I’d bought myself a skirt.

It was only after I had let myself in at home that I realised what a strain the day had been. I was shattered! I kicked off my heels and lay down on my sofa - and went to sleep. As a result of which I woke up about an hour later, in one sense refreshed but also somewhat stiff. Lying on the strange sofa in unaccustomed clothing had taken its’ toll. I am afraid I spent a totally un-ladylike evening, I closed the curtains as soon as it began to get dark, took off my earrings and wig, and generally slopped around the house until bedtime. I had a large snack at about ten o’clock and watched some TV, then slept.

I did awake at the appropriate time the next morning, but suffering from my lack of attention to myself the previous evening. I decided, first that I shouldn’t do that, just hang around partly dressed. If I was to really see what it was to be a woman, I should be doing it all the time. And secondly, I should take care of myself more.

I got to work on time on foot this time, no ‘suit’ today, a white sweater and black skirt, my low-ish heels, make-up done by myself, on my own, and totally adequately.

"Hi Christine" called Jacqui as she arrived at the door only just behind me.

"How did you get on last night?"

Was she the one who ‘knew’ about me? I had been looking out for clues from any of them the previous day, but had found nothing.

"Nothing much, just hung around at home" I replied totally truthfully.

"You ought to get out more, you know. Tell you what Tanya is off to a social evening at the pub she goes to, tonight. I know the girl she goes with is a bit ill, Tanya is a bit wary of going by herself. How about you go with her? Shall I ask her?"

I couldn’t really say no. Well, I could. But I didn’t want to. Having not actually been in a pub for several weeks I liked the idea. But all sorts of problems hit me, gave me cause for thought while we set up the store and waited for Tanya to arrive. She was going to b late that day, had to take her mother to the surgery first, than catch a later bus.

Eventually she did arrive, Jacqui said nothing at first, then at mid-morning coffee she broached the subject

"You know I said I would have like to go to the ‘Dragon’ tonight with you, but I can’t really, well how about you and Christine going?"

Tanya smiled widely, her response was in her eyes even before she said it.

"Great idea, OK, Christine? Girls’ night out? My dad will be back by then, he could take us. It’s a great place, the ‘Dragon’, great music, all 80s stuff, our generation isn’t it? You’ll love it. So, what are you going to wear?"

Heck. I had to think. Not something I had considered before. On previous occasions it had been obvious. Either a suit, or ‘smart casual’ - shirt and clean jeans. I suppose the latter would indeed do but Tanya had other ideas.

"Let’s go for it, Christine. Harry is in the states, has been for two months now, I haven’t had it for over eight weeks. And to be honest he’s not exactly being celibate out there, not if I read between the lines of his last couple of letters. I really do fancy going all the way tonight, how about it? How’s your love life? Tight top and mine, do you think that would be in order?"

I was taken aback at her approach, mind you I had been warned by Mary that first morning. And from what I had heard the two youngsters talk about, Tanya was the one. Youngsters, well not teenagers but certainly they both looked very attractive even in their work clothes. What would Tanya look like dressed up? Come to that, what would I look like?

"OK Christine, you said you live down by the river. How about I pick you up at about half past eight, we can walk to the ‘Dragon’ from there? "

I know I shouldn’t have, maybe Karen was right, this wasn’t in the script. But I really did like the idea of trying on some of the more glamorous in ‘my’ wardrobe. I said yes.

I was on edge the whole of the rest of the day and arrived home somewhat trembly. My mind was wandering through all the different possibilities. I had taken a slight detour on the way back to have a look at the ‘Dragon’. It seemed a nice enough place but who can tell at that time? Late at night it might be entirely different.

After a small meal I started to think about getting dressed for the evening out at just after seven. I stripped and showered, choosing a black thong and my tight basque, I wanted to show off a nice figure. AND I had my eye on a tight skirt in my wardrobe, and I knew it was probably slightly too small for me.

Standing there in my undies I realised I had better get my make-up sorted, just in case Tanya arrived early, it wouldn’t do for her to find me without my make-up and wig on. I had enough to think about without getting into that sort of problem. I did the make-up, feeling rather proud of myself when I had finished. The eye-shadow I had chosen was a deep mauve colour with glittery highlight, sparkly bits, in it. The mascara too was a purple, very deep, and the lipstick had a purplish tinge, not just plain red. I revelled in applying the nail varnish to my nails and sliding several rings into place.

Black seamed stockings followed, just for a moment I had toyed with the idea of the fishnets but decided no. But I did go for much higher heels than I had worn before. Finally I very carefully clipped my wig into place and brushed it through, adding large gold hoped earrings and a mock gold watch. I looked at it - it was after eight already!

I did go for the short skirt, denim, a dark blue denim colour, rather attractive I thought, and a blue chemise, mid-blue and very silky. I didn’t button it right to the top, but neither did I leave it too open either! Moderation, Christine, I thought. I chose a stylish mock-leather jacket from the wardrobe and then inspected myself. Nice, I thought, but then I would, wouldn’t I? I grabbed my bag and shoved a few make-up items into it, my small purse, checking I had some money for a taxi home if necessary. Just before half-past the doorbell rang, Tanya was just about right on time.

I was surprised when I saw her, she looked very different from the ‘working girl’ I knew. Not just good looking, attractive indeed, she had brushed her hair across and over one shoulder, a simple but tantalising effect. In other circumstances..... But I didn’t get the chance to speak.

"Wow, Christine, you look great. You’re skirt is even shorter than mine.

Nice arse!"

I grinned, we giggled, it was obviously going to be a fun evening, at least I hoped so. I was still nervous about going out ‘dressed’, so many things could go wrong. And we did both look as if we were man-hunting, out to attract. I complimented Tanya on her appearance, we linked arms as I shut the door and walked down to her car.

It was only a short drive to the pub, I managed to settle my thoughts as we pulled into the car park ready for my first social outing as a woman. As we strolled up to the door Tanya muttered to me.

"Sorry Christine, I’m a bit short of cash this week. Since I’ve driven here how about you get the first drinks in?"

At first I thought she had a bit of a nerve asking me that. But then I realised I had done the same - gone to the pub and asked a mate for a fiver to get the drinks when I was skint.

"Anyway Christine, I don’t plan on having to but more than one tonight!".

She looked at me knowingly, I knew just what she meant. I smiled and agreed. We went in. The pub wasn’t full by any means, we were a little early and it was midweek after all. But we were greeted with a warm smile by a young man behind the bar.

"Good evening ladies, what can I do for you?"

The double-entendre was blatant, we both heard it and both ignored it. I spoke up.

"Gin and tonic and - sorry Tanya"

"I’ll have the same thanks, OK Christine, I’m just going to grab that little table over there. "

She disappeared to do so, I must say I got tremendous satisfaction out of such a simple thing as buying a couple of drinks. I looked down as I carefully carried them across to Tanya, by now I was getting used to the sight of my longish red nails, maybe I should get a longer pair of ‘false’ ones, they could look really attractive? Tanya and I sat for a while, she was watching one of the guitarists in the band who were beginning to set up.

"I hope you like this sort of stuff, Christine, they are ‘Spindau Bullet’, I’ve seem them before, that guitarist is just gorgeous isn’t he?"

I looked across, indeed he was, at that moment he was bending over to connect some wires trailing across the floor. His shirt rode up to show his back—and his bum just below a tight pair of hipster jeans.

"Cor, Christine, did you see that?" Tanya almost shouted. I could see Tanya was determined to enjoy herself - and more - that evening. It also occurred to me that, if she was going to try to get off with this guitar player, maybe I was going to be expected to go with one of the other band members. I gave them the once-over, not realising at the time that I was rally doing so from a distinctly feminine point of view. The other guitarist was very tall, and skinny and had a ridiculous moustache. I didn’t fancy him at all. The keyboard player and the lead vocalist were both definitely very tasty, smooth, smart, good-looking. But they both had ‘attachments, in each case there were two young ladies, either girlfriends - no. couldn’t be surely, not two - girls at least, hanging round them, helping with the setting up and so on.

But the drummer - he was on his own. Just tapping away, getting ready. He looked tall too, though he was sat down, but really very handsome. Maybe a bit thin on top but not much. And definitely a very nice figure, bulging muscles, tight fitting T-shirt. I could definitely fancy him.

Fancy him? I realised. What was I thinking. But the whole daydream became academic. Just as the band were beginning to set up, I noticed two other guys heading our way. Carrying two drinks each, one beer and one other glass. I knew they were gin-and-tonics, they must have asked the barman what we were drinking. As they reached us Tanya saw me looking and turned.

"Jeff! Jeff groves!! How are you? Haven’t seen you for ages, hello there!"

She obviously knew him. It turned out they had known each other for years, since college, indeed had at one time been something of an item.

"It must be ten years ago, Jeff. I’ve not seen you since, when was it, Jane’s party, do you remember?"

"I do indeed, Tanya. That was when you got off with that lad from Nottingham, the big guy, used to play football nearly every day."

"That’s right, I’d forgotten him. Can’t even remember his name. Anyway Jeff, it’s good to see you."

At which point the band started. They were good but they were loud, killed off all attempts at conversation. After a few songs Jeff and Tanya got up and headed towards the other, smaller, cosier, bar. I picked up my drink and followed, along with Steve, who introduced himself to me.

"I wasn’t too sure about coming tonight but now I am so glad I did" he said, in what he hoped was an endearing way. But it didn’t really come out like that, it sounded rather crawling, rather patronising. He was obviously making some sort of play for me. It was an ideal set-up for him, of course. Jeff and Tanya were getting it together, if they wanted to be alone later then ....

And I really did want to make a go of it. Part of the point of the Dr. Morgan’s ‘therapy’ was obviously so that I could experience as much of ‘being a woman’ as possible. And men were again obviously part of that experience. Steve was. I guess, rather handsome, I could see why some girls might find him desirable. In fact I did, in a way, but he seemed to be taking a lot for granted. When Tanya and Jeff went back to watch the band some more Steve moved to sit closer to me, at one stage putting his hand on my leg! He really was pushing it, and I was indeed getting the other side of the boy/girl experience. Eventually we got up to leave and he kept hold of my hand.

I let go to go and tell Tanya we were leaving, she gave me a broad grin and said ‘Good luck’. But I think she knew from my face I wasn’t really enjoying the attention. Anyway Steve did drive me home, and looked expectant as he pulled up to the kerb. I realised it was now or never - and decided, never! I leaned across to give him a peck on the cheek.

"Sorry Steve, I really must get some sleep tonight, I’m in work tomorrow."

Which was true but not much of an excuse. I very quickly got out of the car and trotted up to my front door, got my key in very quickly and turned it. At which exact point things started to go wrong. For nearly 48 hours, ‘Christine’ had a bad time of it.

I caught my heel in the step just outside the door as I went in and almost fell over - and broke the heel. And broke a nail as I steadied myself. But I got the door shut and breathed a sigh of relief. And I had a hole in my stocking.

AND I spilt coffee on my dress in the kitchen ten minutes later. And broke a bra strap in my rush to get the dress off. The problems just kept on coming. I got to bed OK but was awakened several times during the night by noises outside the house - a couple of motorbike fanatics seemed to think it was fun to race up and down the road, that went on for nearly an hour.

Then in the morning, the Wednesday, it took me THREE attempts to get my make-up right, the first try was appalling and wouldn’t have fooled anybody. Happily after taking all my make-up off and starting again, the third try worked well. And then it was raining. Not heavily, but enough to wet my thin coat on my way to work. I thought things would be OK after I had dried out, and I only had Mary and Jacqui to explain why I was late to. They commiserated with me, assumed it was my period, made me a coffee and so on.

Tanya did roll in about ten o’clock. She looked shattered too, we all knew why. But she was full of it, graphic details of what she and Jeff had got up to the night before and sympathy that I hadn’t got off with Steve. Then I dropped a whole load of hangers as I was trying to move some stock, and got a hole in my stockings - again, had to go next door to the shop there to buy some more. And in the afternoon got some oil or something rather dirty on my sleeve when I was sorting through some donated clothing. I really wish people would get stuff at least clean-ish before they give it to us.

I was really glad to get out of work that day, at least the rain had stopped. I walked straight home and got myself a large gin-and-tonic as soon as I got in, then sat and tried to relax in the evening, hoping for at least some quiet time by myself. But no, that black Wednesday just went on-and-on.

I knew I had to get some clothes clean, I had three tops, several pairs of panties and tights and stockings and some other things to clean. I sorted out those items to be done by hand and shoved the others in the washer, then settled for a meal and some TV in the evening. I left the ready-meal in the oven too long, it came out nearly black. I had to make do with a sandwich that evening. And the clothes I had done, one of the blouses was ruined, I hadn’t noticed the label said ‘dry-clean only. And then to top it all I set the iron too high and ruined the skirt I had bought earlier that week. AND I ran out of gin. As I settled in bed that evening I just hoped that the next day my luck would turn. I didn’t exactly cry myself to sleep - but I came close.

The weather was on my side - Thursday morning was bright and sunny, and warmer. My coat had dried out, at least that was OK. Nothing went wrong in the first hour, I was hopeful, decided to wear something different that day to try to cheer myself up. I found a short-ish red skirt in the wardrobe, that with a very classy cream-coloured frilly blouse, and the pair of red high heels, a red bag, a rather nice pair of clip earrings with ‘rubies’ in a plain gold setting, after dressing and looking in the mirror I felt much better. I put on a brighter lipstick than the previous day, and re-did my nails in the same colour. At a quarter to nine I inspected myself in the mirror. Better!

I was much more cheerful as I left the house, beginning to walk down the road. There were even swans on the river again. Life looked better. And then I saw Jason. He was out jogging, running towards me as I strolled along. He paused as he approached.

"Morning Christine, great day isn’t it?"

It was. I smiled.

"Yes it is, the river looks lovely in the sunlight. Finished your run?"

"Yes, just a mile along the riverbank and then back. Sets me up for the day."

I didn’t really know what to say. I mean, I wasn’t used to it, being chatted to by a young man, not in that way anyway. I smiled and walked on. If I had just gone through Odd Sunday, Strange Monday, Different Tuesday and Black Wednesday, I couldn’t really have predicted that this was going to be Weird Thursday.

It really had started out well. Even Mary commented that I seemed much better, much more cheerful, than the previous day. She probably thought my ‘period’ had settled down. It was when Jacqui said that my skirt was short, maybe I was looking for someone that I began to get an indication that things might turn out differently today. I set to clearing some of the books from the stockroom while the others worked in the shop, tidying clothes and serving customers. It was then I came across another box of mixed books which looked as if it had come from the same place as the one I had dealt with three days earlier. Only three days! It seemed ages since my ‘womanhood’ had begun.

And in the box I found, along with assorted romances and slushy stuff, two more ‘old’ hard-backs, like the one I had seen then. Maybe the guy who had been in then would pay over the odds for them? I felt I had to ring him, after all the money earned was for charity, I should really get what I could for them, not just put them out at £1 each. I found his business card and rang the number.

I got through to his secretary and left a message, that Christine from the charity shop had rung, and that there were a couple more books he might be interested in. I told Mary about it and she put them to one side, to deal with if he came in next week maybe.

An hour later, he was there. Asking for me! I heard him from the back room, Mary came in with a sly grin on her face.

"There’s a man asking for you, Christine. Name’s Keith"

At least he could have said ‘Mr. Grainger’. First name terms indeed. However I did go through into the shop and took down the two books, offering them to him without comment. He looked very quickly at the first, then his face lit up when he saw the second.

"Well Christine, you can put this on back in the £1 box, but this second one. It is in a very good condition. How about I buy it - for £100?"

I was delighted at least one was approved of, maybe he misinterpreted my expression of pleasure.

"Er - I haven’t got that much with me at the moment. How about I go to my bank? It’s not far. There’s s very nice café right next door. Can I buy you lunch to say thank you for this?"

I hadn’t been expecting that but I was very quick-witted. I had just decided to say ‘No thanks’ when Mary came across. She had been listening!

"Christine my dear. Do you mind? Could you go on the early lunch today, I want to finish this job, I can go later. OK?"

I had no choice. And she knew it. Meekly I walked through to the hangers and grabbed my jacket and bag. Mr. Grainger - Keith - and I left the shop together. We walked down the street towards town and paused at his bank. I idly looked through some leaflets while he sorted the cash. He offered me two £50 notes as we left the bank. I put them carefully in my handbag, then turned to walk with him to the café.

Me. In town. Walking along, with a MAN. Who would have thought it? I had appreciated the day before some of the problems of being a woman but, right there, at that moment, I just loved it. My skirt WAS too short but I really enjoyed the looks I was getting as we ambled along. We paused for a little while - at least I did, Keith came back to join me - while I looked at a dress which had caught my eye in a shop window.

Then we got to the café and I realised I hadn’t really had a proper meal the day before. On the other hand it would not have done for me to make a pig of myself so I had a pasta and sauce dish and a glass of wine with it. Keith offered me a second glass but I declined, I had drunk quite a bit the previous few days and thought I shouldn’t. After all I had my figure to think about.

Over the meal Keith told me about his job, the court where he worked, the sort of cases he was involved in. And he asked about me. He was definitely interested. I answered as truthfully as I could, ‘bending’ the gender somewhat on a few occasions. It really was a very pleasant lunch and for the first time I really enjoyed being the woman, being seen as female - and men looking at my legs! I remembered that this was Thursday, tomorrow was due to be my last day as Christine. And I wondered how Pauline was getting on at home without me. Having a rest from the arguments, certainly. But was she missing me? Was this whole scheme going to work?

As we ambled back towards the shop after lunch I slid my arm through Keith’s, he seemed pleased. And just before we got there his hand moved down - to hold mine. This wasn’t like that guy the other night, this was nice. I liked it. As we reached the door I realised I had a decision to make. In other circumstances I might have gone further but, in daylight, I felt awkward about this. I squeezed Keith’s hand, muttered a thank you for the lunch, and kissed him on the cheek.

And when I entered the shop, Jacqui and Mary - both of them had been watching - applauded me.

"Well done Christine, I reckon you are in there" said Mary.

"Bitch" I muttered. "You set me up!"

"And you loved it, admit it. He is rather nice, isn’t he? Now, tell us all about it."

Which I did. I had enjoyed the day so far. If I only knew - it hadn’t started yet!

Half way through the afternoon, I was serving in the shop when a woman came in carrying two large bags. I realised she was donating something and went to welcome her, smiling. I thought I recognised her but before I could say anything Mary rushed over to greet her.

"Mrs. Teague, hello, so nice to see you again. I saw in the paper last week, how well your daughter is doing at the pony club. You must be so proud"

They fell into conversation, I saw Jacqui at the other side of the shop beckoning me over.

"Look there, Christine, at the bags."

I did. They were quite large, obviously full, and from Harraps, a very classy shop indeed.

"Don’t you recognise her?" asked Jacqui.

I looked again, saw a really very sophisticated woman, about my own age, my own real age that is, not what I seemed as Christine. She really did know how to take care of herself, very well made-up though not over-done, a great figure far her age and extremely smartly dressed.

"That’s Melli" said Jacqui.

Then it clicked. Of course. Melanie Willis. Eighties supermodel probably the first to start off that name. I remembered, her face had been everywhere at the time, promoting perfumes, clothes, all sorts of stuff. And I remembered an article in the local press a few years ago, how she had retired at the top of her profession, married an entrepreneur from the Midlands and settled to family life. Three children if I recalled it right.

"She lives up past the park, in one of those enormous houses. Does good works and so on around the area. And more to the point changes her wardrobe almost completely every six months and gives all the old stuff to us."

As Melanie and Mary said their goodbyes at the door, Jacqui dashed over towards the bags and grabbed them, pushing one in my direction.

"Quick, before any customers come in. We deserve first pick."

All three of us hustled through into the back room excitedly, Mary started pulling clothes out of the bags and hanging them on the ‘incoming’ rail in there. Then we stood back to look. The whole collection was amazing - dresses, skirts, sweaters, a pashmena, tops, shoes, absolutely hordes of stuff. Jacqui went straight at the shoes.

"I know she has the same size as me, I want them ALL!"

"You’ll have to wait" butted in Mary Tanya has the same size too, you’ll have to fight it out. Remember, I have to price these yet."

"I don’t care, OK, I’ll share with Tanya. But I want these blue ones, that’s my first choice. Definitely."

I waited for a while as they discussed the clothes, then I saw a dress. A gorgeous dress. Deep blue, with tiny gold threads all through it. I dared to look at the label. Yes! My size. I grabbed it.

"Oh yes, Christine, you CAN wear that. You’ve got the figure, definitely. And how about this skirt - and that one. Too small for me" said Mary, holding out yet more clothes.

We were interrupted by Tanya, back from the back, who whooped with delight when she realised what was going on. She joined in the general free-for-all, eventually I ended up with two blouses, and a shawl and THAT dress. I was delighted, Mary had worked out what we should be paying, we all agreed to settle up the next day.

I was quite laden as I walked home that day, delighted to have coped better. I called in at the corner shop for a few groceries, and to replace a few beers and the gin bottle I had finished. It was a lovely day, in every sense, I smiled at the shop-keeper, and again internally when I realised he was checking my legs. Back home I had a beer - in a lady-like glass of course, and decided I just had to try on the dress. Not that I would ever have a chance to wear it.

The doorbell rang. It was Jason.

"Er - Christine, how was your day? Better that yesterday I hope, you said this morning you weren’t entirely on top of the world."

"Oh yes, Jason, much better."

"Then - I just wondered - how about - would you like to go out for dinner later? Maybe into town? I’ve discovered the ‘Green Man’ there lately, a great pub - or the ‘Admiralty Hotel’?"

The Admiralty. Now that brought back memories. I must have stopped and stared for a moment - Jason interrupted me.

"The Admiralty? Yes? How about I pick you up at about eight?"

I heard myself say ‘yes, thanks’ - I closed the door. In a daze I wandered upstairs and into my bedroom. I took off my top and skirt. Standing there in bra and panties I realised. I had a date! I hadn’t intended opening the gin but I needed it. I went down to the kitchen, still half-dressed, opened the bottle and poured myself a stiff one. Just the one, I thought, I’ve drunk too much the past few days. Now what?

What was I to do? Get ready certainly, but in what. And how? For a first proper date, not like the invite from Tanya. This was Jason. A ear neighbour. And a nice men. I just had to do him proud. The Admiralty Hotel, well, there were memories. I glimpsed the calendar, then realised. It was the nineteenth. Exactly a month since our anniversary, Pauline’s and mine. Or rather our non-anniversary.

Every five years, on the anniversary of our meeting, not our wedding, that first meeting in the hotel lobby there we had gone back to the same hotel for a special dinner. And this year, exactly one month earlier, had been another five-year date. But this time, for the first time, after falling out badly the night before we had missed our special date. I guess that was one of the things made us realise things had got so bad, missing that special dinner. For the first time.

Going to the same hotel, one month late, with a man, how would I cope? Only one way to find out. I breathed in, went back up the stairs and stripped naked. I stood there for a moment, then realised. I couldn’t go through with this. I wasn’t ready for it. At least not alone, I needed some help, some female help. For a moment I thought about ringing Pauline. Daft idea. Totally. What would she think if she saw me like that, I hated to think.

Anyway it was against the rules, Dr. Morgan’s rules. Then it came to me. Karen. I found her number and rang.

"Hello - Karen..............Hello there, it’s Christine here, Christine King .......Yes thanks, OK really......... well, some ups and some downs, you know.........yes...........yes............well I do have one problem.........well, I’ve got a date tonight and I’m having some problems with the clothes and the make-up, you can imagine, I’m not used to this....... Yes, the guy from up the road..... he just asked me, this evening....to a hotel in town... yes.... Yes, I’ll be here. Great, thanks so much. Bye."

Half an hour, she could be there in half an hour. Time to get some things sorted at least. I had a quick shower and patted myself dry. I thought I knew the sort of undies which would be suitable, there was a lovely deep blue bra and panties set in my undies drawer, very silky and obviously rather new. I pulled on the panties, they were a thing style, rather brief but seemed OK to me. And the bra, I got that on. It was a balcony bra, wired under my bust, pushing the breasts up and together to give a very exciting cleavage, at least it excited me to see it. And to imagine it being seen too.

Then I found the set had a matching suspender belt. I had imagined myself wearing tights but the thought of stockings again appealed to me. I tied it on and then slid a pair of very sheer black stockings up my legs, luxuriating in the sensation of thin nylon against my legs. I clipped them into place and stood up, slipping my feet into my black shoes and looking in the mirror. I just had to go put the wig on to see something of the full effect, but as I headed back towards the bedroom I heard the doorbell. I slipped the black negligee round my shoulders and went down, peering to make sure first that it was indeed Karen.

She looked in some amazement at the scantily clad woman who let her in.

"Christine, I don’t really know why I’m here, you seem to be doing an excellent job yourself."

"Thanks, Karen. But it’s the make-up and the accessories really, I do know they are so important for my appearance. This is my first real ‘date’ and I want to do Jason proud."

I could hardly believe I had just said that, wanting to look my best - for a man. Things had certainly changed in the past four days, I really did understand some of what it must be like to be a woman, to have to cope with all the many aspects of home life, and to want to impress, all the time really, in some way to want to be seen as a sexual object yet to stay in control. Karen followed me up the stairs.

"Nice ass" she said.

She was very impressed when I showed her the dress.

"That is a phenomenal garment, Christine, it must have cost you a fortune - ah look! It’s a ‘Georges Dimant’ - not an original, surely you couldn’t afford that, Christine. And you’ve not turned totally female, surely?"

I explained briefly some of the details of how I had got it, Karen listened in amazement and was envious I had met Melli, then commented that she would have to try the shop one day - if she could get there the moment after Melli did! She helped me into the dress and to adjust the bust-line to show lots of, but not too much, cleavage.

"I can see Jason is going to cream his pants tonight" she said.

I was shocked - not at her rude comment but at my reaction - we both giggled together at the thought of it. Then she insisted on my taking off my wig while she took total control of my make-up, again making me face away from the mirror until the end. Finally I slipped on my dress stilettos, stood and turned. I was amazed.

All week I had been thinking of myself, as a woman, as ‘quite attractive’ - no more. I was delighted at the reactions from Steve and from Jason and Keith, and the man in the corner shop. But this was different, not glamorous, not beautiful, but definitely very attractive and, dare I say it, desirable.

The dress helped a lot. It was a deep blue, almost ‘midnight blue’. With gold stripes, very thin, woven into the fabric and glistening in the light of my make-up lamp. Very close fitting, it showed off ‘my’ figure to the very best advantage, tight bum, slimmish waist and really quite bulging breasts. The balcony bra was just right, offering support and tension to keep my breasts proud and pushing them together.

And Karen’s efforts had enhanced the effect. My make-up was quite ‘glam’, deepish blue eyeliner, nice eye-shadow, thick mascara on my lashes, and deep red lips, with a slight blue tint to the lip-liner she had used. My fingernails matched the lipstick but the whole effect was totally enhanced by the jewellery. Karen had brought a selection from her shop, anticipating I might want something special. And special it was.

A gold pendant hung round my neck, with a dark blue stone, probably just coloured glass but it looked good, and glistened like the threads in my dress. The earrings were very special, matching stones on the lobes, and thin gold strands, maybe 5" long, hanging straight down which swung when I moved. I loved them! Three gold-effect rings, two plain and one with yet another blue ‘stone’ completed the effect. However I looked I really did feel gorgeous. Karen was pleased too.

"You know, Christine, when I started doing this for Dr. Morgan I thought he was mad, or at least a bit dipsy. But it really is fun. The last ‘girl’ I did looked very convincing but I have to say, my dear, you do take the biscuit, In fact the whole box of biscuits, you don’t just look good enough to pass, you look gorgeous enough to get yourself into trouble. Now promise me, you will take care. Your young man doesn’t know your secret, please promise me you will pull back if there looks to be a problem there. I don’t want to spoil the good that’s been done this week,. Please?"

I promised to take care. At least, I thought, I will try.

It was five to eight, nearly time. Karen grabbed her stuff, shoved it into the bag she had brought and we went downstairs. I had a silk-effect blue and white shawl, she helped he drape it effectively to cover myself up, it was turning just a little cold. I had my bag. I had me. I was ready.

After Karen left I stood for a minute or two, composing myself. I thought about a drink, Dutch courage, but didn’t. I heard the doorbell again.

Jason was waiting for me. And looking good. Handsome, yes indeed, very handsome. Smart suit, no tie, open-neck shirt. I smiled and we walked down the path towards the taxi as it pulled up. I noticed Karen drive past - she must have been waiting in her car along the street a little, wanting to see how I got on. She waved as she passed, I waved back. Jason saw it and turned towards me.

"Just a friend, she called round for a bit of a chat" I told him.

Jason hadn’t said a word about me or about my dress but I could tell he liked what he saw. Then - suddenly - the evening went downhill very suddenly, just when I thought it was really going to go well.

His mobile phone rang, just as he reached out to open the taxi door. He paused, grimaced, and answered it. I could tell from his voice - it was not good news. He pushed what I assumed was the mute button, looked at me rather sadly and spoke.

"Christine, I really am so sorry about this. That was my ex-wife. My daughter has had an accident at her gym, broken her leg. I am really so sorry, I..."

"Wait, Jason."

I cut him off, I had heard enough. Ex-wife? He hadn’t mentioned that. And why should he, I thought, maybe he was going to tell me later. I looked straight in his eyes, he really was awfully worried.

"She’s only four..."

I stopped him again.

"Jason, go on. Go! Don’t worry about me, not one bit, she needs her father there now, and your ex- maybe could do with some support. Go!"

He did, turned and ran back towards his house, I saw him dash into his own car and drive off past me, waving like Karen had bit grimacing at the same time to show his disappointment. I was upset too, this was to be my last night as a woman and here I was, on the street, dressed up to beat the band and with nowhere to go. Or at least no-one to go with. I did have somewhere I could go. To the Admiralty Hotel, on my own sadly but I could still go there.

The taxi driver, sat there waiting, understandably began to get a little impatient. He had seen and heard the whole thing and realised what was happening. I looked at him, then reached out, opened the door and got in myself.

"Tell me, you must know. The Admiralty Hotel, do you know it? I’ve not been in there for five years, is it still a decent sort of hotel?"

"Oh yes, miss, very decent, very respectable class of client, miss."

"So it’s the sort of place a woman can go on her own? Safely?"

"Certainly miss, no problem."

"OK then, let’s go."

So we did. It was only a short drive, I had walked past the place several times every week for many years but not been in there since the anniversary dinner Pauline and I had there just over five years ago. I had the impression it would not have changed, it was one of those old fashioned hotels, doorman, bell boys and so on, it seemed stuck in the Victorian era.

As soon as I walked in I realised that was basically true but not entirely. The receptionist was sitting at her desk with a very up-to-date PC system in front of her, at least in some aspect it was modernised. But the basic solid reliable old structure was as it had been five years ago, and ten, and fifteen and more.

I explained briefly that I had hoped to be coming with a friend and that I thought he had booked a table for dinner. I would have to cancel the dinner reservation alas, but I was just going to have a drink in the bar while I was there. The receptionist found Jason’s booking and did the cancellation after I assured her I didn’t want to dine alone. Then I walked into the bar.

I sat on a stool at the bar, looked up and smiled at the barman and ordered a gin and tonic. I reckoned I deserved it. This was the culmination of the week, really, being here like this albeit alone. The barman brought the gin to me and placed it in front of me.

I reached for my drink and - not for the first time but more so than on previous occasions - suddenly felt feminine, extremely feminine. I was sitting there at the bar, with the barman looking at me, seeing me as a woman and hopefully as an attractive woman. I could see beyond him, reflected in the mirror, several people and couples, all there enjoying the evening and all of them, when they looked round and glimpsed me, saw me hopefully like that too. One guy was staring a little. He was on his own, maybe wondering if he could ‘pick me up’!

The couple nearest to me didn’t really notice, they were much younger and only really interested in each other, like Pauline and I in this very same bar many years ago.

I could see another couple, somehow I thought they were not ‘together’ in the same way. The body language didn’t see to say man and wife, or boyfriend and girlfriend, or even guy-and-mistress. They were close but not in a sexual way, perhaps cousins or even brother and sister. It was as I reached for my drink and brought it to my mouth I became rather excited. The sight of my hand, very ‘feminine’ rings, longish red nails, holding the glass, the thought of my lips, again a deep red, touching the glass as I sipped. I had in the past few days experienced life as a woman, in so many ways, chatting with the girls at the shop, some sort of relationship (though not much) with that friend of Tanya’s - what was his name, Steve, that was it. And with Keith and with Jason, and with the man in the corner shop, and with several other men.

And it had been good, very satisfying, I smiled internally as I shuffled on my seat and felt once more my stockinged legs sliding together, noticed my thighs on display. Maybe I should wear that tight mini for work tomorrow, Tanya had said I had nice legs and should show them off. OK, I had seen the downside too in some ways, almost come to tears when things had gone so wrong earlier in the week. It wasn’t a bad life being a woman though I really did believe I could see things so much more from Pauline’s point of view now.

Maybe Dr. Morgan’s scheme had worked. Maybe when we got back together Pauline and I would really be able to make our marriage work. Again I wondered just how she had got on the past few days. Then I realised the barman was still there. Waiting. Of course, I hadn’t paid for my drink! I reached out, say my feminine hand once more take my bag, begin to open the clasp. I heard, behind me a sharp intake of breath. Then a pause. Then a voice.

"I’ll get that, if I may."

I saw a hand reach past me offering a note to the barman. I noticed that he had just got his own drinks, two pints of beer and a glass of something, maybe a vodka or another gin, maybe. I turned to look at him.

I realised it was the guy I had noticed earlier, sat across the bar with the other couple, the ‘brother-and-sister’ pair. I began to smile at him, then froze.

Froze, looking rather silly, half a grin on my face. Hell!!

For some reason I looked down, then up. Black shiny shoes, a smart suit, in fact a very smart suit. Very smart indeed. Quite expensive, I thought. Nice shirt too, a pale blue, stylish, open-neck, two buttons undone to reveal just a little chest hair. Slightly long hair, not too long for a guy but yet again stylish, combed back to expose his face. Just a hint of beard stubble, either he hadn’t shaved that evening or he was cultivating the designer-stubble look.

What was I thinking? Designer stubble? Rubbish! I knew that face. I’d seen it, or rather something so very like it, so often. I had to speak, to break what was just going to turn into a very embarrassing silence, the barman was handing over change and was going to notice something odd was going on. Which indeed it was.

I was Christine, so...

"Hello. Paul?"

 

The end? Surely not, it can’t be !!! .... Of course it isn’t.

Comments welcome to bethjac@hotmail.com

 

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