This story (and any similar ones that may follow) is based on the "Eerie Saloon" captioned pictures by Christopher Leeson. I thank him for creating the world, for letting me play in it, and for his help in the birthing of this story. A lot of the specific details are mine, though, so if there's something you don't like, it's probably my fault and not his.

  

Tales of the Eerie Saloon: High Noon -- How It All Began

by Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson

© 2001

  

* * * * *

Friday, July 21, 1871, Week 1 -- Day 1

The new women weren't sure what was going on, but they knew that they had to obey and hurried up the steps. Shamus led them down the hall to one of several locked rooms. Molly brought up the rear. There no hotel in Eerie; so he and Molly rented out some of the upstairs rooms as needed.

He knocked on the door. "Rachel, can we come in."

"Why shouldn't you," a woman's voice said. "Are the...women with you?"

"They are," Shamus said. He opened the door and motioned for the women to go in. They obeyed, and he and Molly followed them in. Shamus locked the door behind him.

A woman in her late fifties, her gray hair covered by a purple scarf rose out of a chair. Rachel Silverman was a plumpish, motherly looking woman in a dress the same color as the scarf. She stared clinically at the new women for a minute. "_These_ are the rough, tough outlaws, the Cossacks everybody in town was so worried about?"

"They were," Shamus said proudly "The potion surely did its job today."

"Very pretty," she said in her Yiddish-accented voice, "they certainly don't seem very dangerous now." She picked up a rolled-up cloth tape measure. "Hello, ladies. I'm Rachel Silverman, and I'm here to help you get dressed in your new clothes. It's a good thing we got so much in stock at the store. I don't think any two of them are the same size." She sighed. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Strip down to your underwear, girls."

"The hell we will," Jessie said. The transformed men didn't move. The potion kept them from harming Rachel, but they didn't have to obey her, either.

"Oh, won't ye now," Shamus said. "Until I say otherwise, you'll listen and obey Rachel there as if it was meself talking to you." He bowed low to Rachel. "That should do it."

"We'll see." Rachel pointed at Jessie. "You, the girl with the mouth, what's your name, please?"

"Jessi..ca, Jessie Hanks, ma'am."

"You can call me 'Rachel', Jessie," Rachel said. "I see you already lost your pants. Are you wearing anything under that shirt?"

"I got on a union suit."

"Then take off the shirt," Rachel said, "and toss it onto the nearest bed."

They were in the largest of the rooms Shamus and Molly rented out. There were six beds in two rows of three each along the north and south walls. Each bed had a rolled up mattress on it. Besides each bed was a small night table with two drawers and a wooden bar offset from the wall, with a few wooden hangers stuck on it. A low dresser with six drawers was against the eastern wall of the room, its top just below the level of the large window. A cupboard stood between the dresser and the north wall.

Jessie trembled as if she were fighting the command. Her hands moved slowly, but they did move. She unbuttoned the shirt, took it off, and tossed it on a bed. Underneath she was wearing a sleeveless red linen vest and a matching pair of drawers that reached down almost to her ankles. Her breasts pushed against the front of the now-oversized vest, and her nipples stuck out prominently. The drawers were large on her, but her wide hips held them in place.

"Shamus," Rachel began, "since she's obeying me now, _and_ since the others probably will, too, _and_ since you're a married man who doesn't need to see such things, why don't you go downstairs and leave this to Molly and me?"

"Aye, Shamus," Molly said. "This is women's work we're about."

Shamus knew better than to argue. "I'll be downstairs if ye need me, Love." He kissed Molly on the cheek and left. Molly locked the door after him.

"Now we're all just a bunch of girls here," Rachel said. She looked at the transformed men. "The rest of you do the same, strip down to your underwear."

The new women obeyed. Laura Meehan wasn't wearing anything under her shirt, so Rachel let her put the shirt back on, but she told Laura not to button it.

Rachel handed Molly a small tablet and pencil. "You write down the names and numbers as I say them, dear." Molly nodded.

Rachel pulled out the pin that kept the tape-measure rolled up. She walked over to Jessie. "Stand straight, dear." Jessie did. Rachel put the tape around her neck. "Jessie. Neck: 12 inches." She shifted the tape and gave the figure for "neck to shoulder."

Rachel moved one end of the tape to the point on the armhole of Jessie's vest nearest her left armpit and stretched it across the front of her breasts to the same part on the right side. Jessie squirmed as Rachel pulled the tape tight over her nipples. Rachel called out the measurement, then lifted the tape so it went across just above Jessie's new breasts. Rachel called out that number, then mentally noted the difference between the two numbers. "Such a _healthy_ girl", she said aloud.

Rachel measured Jessie's narrow waist and rounded hips, then sleeve length, inside and outside. She took the distance from Jessie's neck to her waist and waist to the floor in front. Then she walked behind the new woman and measured the distance across her shoulders, her neck to her waist, and her waist to the floor, allowing a bit extra for a very slight train. Finally, she made notes about Jessie's blonde hair, blue eyes, and creamy white complexion.

"Fine," Rachel said. "Put your shirt back on and go sit on the bed. Jessie almost sighed in relief as she obeyed.

Rachel repeated this with the other new women. She made a new page of notes for each of them.

"Fine," she said, putting the tablet in her bag. "I'll go get your clothes, now. Do any of you have a style or a color that you like? My Aaron and I have a full range of nice feminine things at our store. Oy, what am I saying? You're all too new at being women to know from such things. Well, trust me; I'll bring back good stuff you'll like."

Molly looked around the room. "While we wait for Rachel to get back, you lot can make yuirselves useful. Ye're going to be living here for two months, make your beds." Molly unlocked the door, and Rachel left. As Molly turned back from re-locking the door, she saw her five charges, faces glaring, unrolling the mattresses.

"There are sheets and blankets in that cupboard, pillows, too." Molly said, pointing to the far end of the room. The women fetched the bedding. They were just finishing as Shamus unlocked the door and came in.

"Well now," he said with a smile, "that's probably the first honest work any of ye has done for a while."

"Aye," Molly said, "but they're not finished yet."

"What do you mean, we ain't finished?" Wilma asked.

"You girls will be living here for three months," Molly said. "Ye should have a more comfortable room, a more _feminine_ one, ye might say."

"What exactly do ye have in mind, Molly?" Shamus asked.

"I was thinking we could move out that there extra bed and put in a nice table for them to sit at, one with a pretty cloth and, maybe, some flowers." Molly scratched her head for a moment. "And some lace curtains for that window and some throw pillows for the beds. Just the sort of place to make a girl feel right at home."

Shamus laughed. "Whatever you say, Love."

"Now wait a minute," Bridget said. "We got some say in this."

"No, ye don't," Shamus said. "Ye've no more say than ye had in the decor of any other prison ye were ever in. We'll get the room fixed up in due time. For now, we'll just move out that bed and move in a table and some chairs." He paused and looked at the group. "Or, to be exact, ye'll be moving them."

Shamus had Wilma, Jessie, Bridget, and Maggie lift the bed closest to the door and move it down the hall to a corner storeroom. They brought a round table from the storeroom and put it where the bed had been.

Molly got an old lace curtain and a linen tablecloth from the storeroom. She gave the curtain to Laura, who was the tallest of the new women, and Shamus had Laura replace the plain cloth curtain with the lace one. Molly spread the tablecloth on the table, while the five women each brought a chair from the storeroom to put around it.

"Much nicer, homey, like," Molly said, inspecting the room. "I think you ladies will like living here."

"Oh, yeah," Wilma grumbled. "It's just wonderful. How long are you all going to keep up this nonsense?"

"Ye'll show me wife a little more respect, the lot of you," Shamus said. "Now you -- all of you -- sit quietly at the table, hands folded and smiling like the ladies ye're supposed to be."

The women sat, hands folded. Their smiles were closer to grimaces, but they were close enough to satisfy Shamus. "Fine, now stay like that till we get back." He unlocked the door and led Molly from the room. The women heard the door lock after them. They tried to talk only to discover that Shamus' "quiet" order kept them from saying a word.

The women sat, fidgeting but unable to move from the positions Shamus had ordered them into, for who knew how long. Their muscles began to cramp, and they actually began to wish for him or the Sheriff to come back.

Finally, they heard the lock click. The door opened and in walked Molly, Shamus, the Sheriff, and the barman. They were each carrying several packages. As they put them down on two of the beds, the women noticed that each package had one of their names on it.

Rachel came in carrying a few more packages in a large wicker basket. After emptying her basket on one of the beds, she set it on the floor.

"You must be tired from sitting like that for so long," Shamus said. "You can all stand up and stretch if you want."

"You can talk, too," the Sheriff said, "but only as long as you're polite about what you say; no cussing."

The women sighed and all of them stood. They reached and stretched to knead the kinks out.

Bridget was bending forward and back at the waist, her hands on her hips. She was amazed at how supple her new body seemed to be. Still, it bothered her the see her long, red hair flowing down in front of her, or to feel the pull of her breasts as she bent forward. She looked up and saw the barman, a tall man with long black hair, staring at her. He had a big grin on his face that she recognized immediately.

"What do you think you're looking at, mister?" she asked.

"Ma'am, I'm just standing here admiring the view. It surely is a pretty one."

Bridget straightened up and glared at him. Keep looking, and it'll be the last one you ever see."

Shamus laughed. "Bridget, I told ye, be polite."

Molly looked at Shamus and the others. "I think it's time you men were leaving," she said. "Especially you, R.J. You've seen enough for today."

The man tapped his hand and nodded. "Yes, ma'am, and I truly did enjoy it." He winked at Bridget. "It's gonna be a lot nicer to work here the next two months. He turned and walked out the door. The other men followed.

"I'll be just down the hall in our own rooms if ye need me, Molly, Love" Shamus said over his shoulder as he went out the door.

Molly smiled and then turned back to the women. "All right now. Each of you go over and open the green package with your name -- your _new_ name -- on it." None of the women moved. "What's the matter with you?" Molly asked. "Didn't you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Jessie said, "but it don't feel like I got to do what you say no more." She had a very satisfied look on her face, but she didn't move. None of them did, though they seemed to be trying.

"Rachel," Molly said, "go get Shamus. Quick like."

Rachel ran out the door, returning a moment later with Shamus and the Sheriff.

"Shamus," Molly said. "They...they don't obey me anymore."

"What happened?" Shamus asked. Molly told him. "All right," he said, pointing at Bridget. "Let's see what happens when its meself giving the orders. Hop on yuir right foot and quack like a duck."

"That's the -- quack!" Bridget said. She looked down at her self...hopping. "Quack! Quack! Quack!" She didn't know what she hated more, obeying the ridiculous order, or feeling her breasts jiggle as she hopped.

"All right, you can stop that nonsense now," Shamus said, laughing and shaking his head.

Bridget stopped. She stood in place, hands at her hips, glaring at Shamus. His earlier order still held. She just couldn't get the cuss words out.

"I guess that the order to obey somebody else only works for a short time," Shamus said. "I didn't know that."

"It's a good thing we found out now," the Sheriff said. "Do you think the magic will keep them obeying us?"

"Aye," Shamus said. "Ye remember what I said about Rita One Pony. When I met her at the fort, she told me that Two Hatchets came by that way every few months. He was the one who had told her that she couldn't escape right after she drank the potion, and she said that she still had to do whatever he told her." His smile became a leer.

"That was, what, years later?" the Sheriff said. "We shouldn't have any problems with the 60 days then. Okay, then, Wilma, Jessie, Bridget, Laura, and Maggie, you'll all do whatever Rachel and Molly here tell you to do."

"Aye," Shamus added, "and as soon as it begins to feel like any of ye don't have to obey them any more, ye'll tell them. Then, ye'll all stand perfectly still until the Sheriff or I come and tell ye otherwise."

"That should more than do it," the Sheriff said. "Molly, Rachel, we leave these ladies in your capable hands." He tapped his hat with his index finger and left, Shamus following behind.

"If we can get back to what we were doing," Rachel said, "ladies, go open the green packets like you was told before."

Laura managed to get her package undone first. She pulled at the paper, then held up what looked like a pair of white, cotton-weave shorts. They were about three feet long, with lace trim at the bottoms, and thin green ribbons on both legs and at the waist. "Drawers!" Laura said. "I can't wear no women's drawers."

"So, why not?" Rachel said. "You sure look like a girl to me."

"But we ain't," Wilma said.

"Si, Maggie added, "we don't need no stinking britches."

"Enough!" Molly said. "The lot of you take off yuir clothes and toss them over on the table. Then put these nice new things on. Rachel and me will help ye if ye need it."

The women trembled, fighting the orders, but they were helpless. One by one, they obeyed. As each one stripped, she tried very hard not to notice what her new body -- or those of her friends -- looked like. Molly gathered up the male clothing and put them in the basket.

They stepped into the drawers, shivering at the odd feel of the soft muslin fabric against their hairless bodies, the feel of air on their bared breasts. They pulled the ribbons at the waist tight, then tied them in little bows. The drawers stopped three or four inches below the knee, revealing gently curved and very fetching legs. "Don't tie the bottoms yet, ladies," Molly said. "Ye have yuir stockings to put on first."

"Now put on the chemises," Molly said. "Those are the other things in the green packages." She pointed to what looked like sleeveless shirts of the same materials as the drawers. They had lace trim on the shoulders and in the front. They were low-necked with a small green or blue bow along the top in front.

Bridget sighed and put her arms into it. She lifted it up over her head and pulled it down onto her body. She had to wriggle a bit to get it past her sizable new breasts. She did it carefully, trying to ignore the sensations she felt as her nipples rubbed against the soft fabric.

The other women did the same. Molly had them put on stockings. They were cotton and horizontally stripped black and blue or green. The stockings came to just above the knee and were held in place by small cloth garters. Each woman had to raise the bottoms her drawers to above the knee to make room for the stockings and garters. "That's how it's done," Molly said. "A lady always puts on her drawers first. Now that the stockings are on, ye just tie the drawers at the bottoms -- below the knee, of course."

Molly had the women unwrap the next set of packages. Rachel collected the blue wrapping paper and the string, along with the green paper and string from the first set of packages.

"You can't be expecting us to wear these," Wilma said.

"Nu? Of course, we expect you to," Rachel said. "What sort of woman do you think doesn't wear a corset? And these, these are Thompson's glove fitting, the best on the market for the price." Rachel pocked up the corset from Jessie's bed, a green strip of satiny cloth with thin steel bands giving it the strong suggestion of female curves.

"Watch closely, ladies" Rachel said, "so you can help each other get dressed in the mornings."

"What are you talking about?" Wilma asked. "We ain't going to wear this stuff every day."

"So what would you be wearing?" Rachel asked. "Your old clothes, they don't fit so good anymore, do they?"

"But...," Wilma said.

"'But' nothing," Molly said. "You'll wear women's clothing and you'll -- well, maybe you won't like it, but that's what you'll be wearing." She paused and looked at Wilma. "And don't think we won't be checking on you or the others here from time to time just to make sure you did it right.

"Now, raise your arms, dear," Rachel told Jessie. When she did, Rachel stretched the corset behind her. She brought it around on both sides and began buttoning it.

"It's so tight," Jessie said as she felt it squeezing in her stomach.

"Take a breath," Rachel said. "It'll help." She buttoned two more buttons. "Now let it out. Now let it out. On the top, you don't need no help."

Jessie let out the air. She felt the corset pressing in her stomach, but it wasn't quite as bad as it had been. Rachel buttoned the last two buttons. Jessie felt the corset pushing up her breasts. She looked down and saw the tops of them fully exposed by the low neck of her chemise. The corset stopped just below the lacy fringe of the chemise, and it almost felt as if two hands were cupping her breasts. It felt...strange.

Rachel did Maggie next, while the others watched. Maggie had a much more voluptuous figure, so the corset had to be tighter. In the process, the women learned several unladylike Spanish terms.

The women watched. This was the first time they had really looked at one another since the change. They felt odd and uncomfortable. Watching these pretty women standing there in their unmentionables was arousing. But, if their minds were still male, their bodies weren't. The women felt odd, vague sensations, in their new breasts and down below their waists in places that they certainly did not want to be thinking about.

Once each woman was corseted, Rachel and Molly had them sit to get used to how tight the garments felt. They refitted the corsets, as needed, since several of the women's faces were flushed, and they all seemed to be squirming a bit as they sat there.

The next set of packets, the yellow ones, had petticoats, blue and green ones.

Molly and Rachel let Laura be first this time. They held a petticoat open and had her step in. Molly showed Laura and the others how to button it at the waist, then stood back to watch as the women all put on their own petticoats. The women seemed uncomfortable in the clothes, but they all managed to get into the petticoats properly on the first try.

"Now for the dresses and the shoes," Molly said. "Then we can all go downstairs and ye can show Shamus and the others how pretty ye all are." She opened one of the white packages, the one with Maggie's name on it. Inside was a dark green dress with a light green overdress.

"All right now, Maggie, darlin'," Molly said, "you put this on." She held it while Maggie stepped into it, then helped pull it past her hips. Maggie put her arms into the sleeves and pulled it up around her shoulders. Then Molly stepped back as Maggie slowly buttoned the front.

Maggie stopped with the last three buttons undone. "Is too tight here," she pointed to her breasts. "Can I let the top ones open?"

"I suppose," Molly said obligingly. The dress could be worn that way, but, as Molly had expected, it showed a good bit of the swell of her breasts, inviting people -- men -- to look.

She handed Maggie a pair of low-button shoes that came to just above the shin and only had a two-inch heel. "Ye sit on the bed there and put these on, while Rachel and I help the other ladies with their dresses."

In a few minutes, the new women were all completely dressed. "So beautiful you look," Rachel said.

Molly looked at her charges' hair, all of it wild and snarled. She might want to do something with it eventually, but it would do for the first inspection. 'Besides,' Molly thought, 'it won't be their _hair_ that everyone will be looking at.' Aloud, she said, "All right now, ladies. We'll go downstairs to show you all off."

"Like this?" Laura asked. The others nodded.

"How else?" Rachel asked. "Now go downstairs, or do we have to get and get Shamus to tell you?"

The women shuddered, helpless to disobey. They walked forward slowly. Like everything else, their shoes felt different, but the heel wasn't much higher than on the riding books they had always worn. They left the room and, with a sigh of regret that they had ever even _heard_ of Eerie.

Shamus and Molly lead the way, and Rachel and the Sheriff fell in behind the women as they walked towards the stairs. Rachel carried the basket with the discarded male clothing.

* * * * *

"They're coming," someone yelled over the noise of the crowd.

Everyone in the saloon turned to look at the stairs. "My heavens," Amelia Talbot said, "They're lovely." The Sheriff's wife fussed at her own dress as she watched her husband walk down the steps with Rachel Silverman. She had some money saved up; maybe it was time to see what Rachel had in the way of a new dress or, maybe, some perfume over at her store.

The crowd moved to the foot of the steps, then parted to let Shamus and Molly through. The women were surrounded. Wilma and Laura started back up the stairs only to see the Sheriff blocking their way.

"Get back down there," Dan said.

"And smile," Rachel added, putting down the basket. "I want you should be nice to all these people that came to see you."

"That goes for all of you," Dan said.

Wilma and Laura sighed. They turned and walked slowly back down the steps, tight smiles, grimaces almost, on their faces. The five new women gathered in a group at the bottom of the steps.

"Hey, look," a voice in the crowd yelled. "It's that vicious Will Hanks and his gang of desperados."

"I'm _so_ scared," another voice called, and the crowd laughed.

"They sure don't look tough now."

"They look kind of sweet."

"Let's take them back upstairs and see just _how_ sweet they are."

The crowd moved forward towards the women. Suddenly Rachel and Molly moved between them. "Nu," Rachel said. She pointed at one of the men. "So tell me, Sam Braddock, why wasn't you -- why wasn't any of you big strong men -- so brave at the town meeting a few nights ago?

"Now wait a minute, Rachel," Braddock said. He was a slender man with sandy red muttonchop sideburns. "You wasn't even there."

"Wait, nothing," Rachel said. "My Aaron told me what happened. Almost none of you was gonna stand by the Sheriff. Now that Hanks and his -- her -- gang ain't so tough -- well, I guess _standing_ against Hanks wasn't what you had in mind."

The crowd laughed, even some of the men who'd been making the lewd suggestions. Dan stepped in front of Rachel, his hand on his pistol. "What they had in mind don't matter. These...women are my prisoners. I've never allowed any prisoner of mine to be threatened, and I ain't starting now." His eyes narrowed as he looked out at the crowd.

Judge Humphreys stepped out of the crowd and stood next to Dan. "If anybody does bother the ladies, it's a violation of territorial law, interfering with a sentence of my court."

Shamus joined them. "Ye do find any of them guilty, Your Honor, I'll only too be happy to make up some more of you-know-what to give to them to help carry out _their_ sentences." He grinned maliciously.

"Thank you, Shamus," the Judge said, but I don't think it'll be necessary." He looked directly at Braddock and several others. "Except, maybe, in _extreme_ cases." The men -- the whole crowd -- took a step back. "In fact, I'd be surprised if people even talked very much about what happened here today."

"Of course," Shamus said with a smile and wink, "that doesn't mean that people can't come in for a wee drink or two and _visit_ the prisoners. After all, they'll be living and working here for the next 60 days."

Josiah Whitney stepped in with the others. "Much as it's against my natural inclinations, I believe that we might be able to stretch the township budget to cover the cost of one -- R.J., you make sure nobody gets a second -- cost of one round to officially open the Eerie Township Special Penitentiary Facility and Saloon. As Chairman of the...." His words were lost in the cheers of the crowd as they ran over to the bar. Rossi was already pouring drinks, and Shamus and Molly hurried over to help him.

"Thanks for backing me up, Judge," Dan said. "You, too, Whit."

"I just hope the township budget can afford all this," Whit said. "Maybe I'll have a little talk to Shamus about the township getting a share of whatever extra profits he makes from having the girls here."

"You planning to give the township a cut from any extra profits your barbershop makes from the extra haircuts you'll be giving the young bucks that come to see them?" The Judge winked as he said it.

"Different matter, Your Honor, different matter entirely." He smiled and looked at the large clock mounted on the wall. "Right now, I'm going over for _my_ free drink. Then I'll be heading home. Carmen's will be waiting dinner on me."

"You give that sweet wife of yours a kiss for me, your new baby, too." Rachel said. "And tell Carmen to come by the store when she can. I've got some new clothes that will look just wonderful on your older boy."

"I will, Rachel, I surely will." He nodded and headed towards the crowded bar.

"That reminds me," Rachel said. "My Aaron is probably wondering where his supper is." She smiled at the new women and left.

The Judge looked at the women, who were still standing huddled together by the steps just out of earshot. "Tell me, Dan, so you have any idea what Shamus and Molly intend to do with Hanks and the others? You know I won't allow...."

"Don't worry, Judge," Dan said. "Shamus and I have been talking about it. They'll have the women clean, help with the cooking, and any other chores that need doing. Mostly the women will fetch drinks for customers and just sit around looking pretty, so men start hanging around the bar staring at them and buying drinks."

"That all?" the Judge asked.

"For starters, anyway," Dan said. "But Abner Slocum and his men will be back from their drive up north in about five weeks. Shamus wants to get out that hurdy gurdy of his and --"

The Judge exploded with laughter. "Waiter girls! He wants Hanks and the others to be waiter girls, to dance with men?"

"Well," Dan said, "it'll be a lot more fun than dancing with some guy who's got a kerchief tied around his arm."

The Judge shook his head. "They'll never stand for it, even if you or Shamus gives them a direct order."

Dan shook his head. "I'm the Sheriff -- and a married man -- I don't get involved in such things. But you know how stubborn Shamus is, and he's got five weeks to try and get them to go along with the notion."

"I know what _I_ want to do with them," a new voice said.

"Why, Doctor Upshaw," the Judge said with a laugh. "You old rascal, you."

"Not that, Judge," the Doc said. "This potion of Shamus' is the most amazing thing I've ever seen. I want to give those women a complete physical, just to see exactly how -- and how much -- they've changed."

The Sheriff was about to say something when he saw Shamus waving at him. He waved back. Shamus pointed at the women and made a gesture with his arm. Dan nodded and walked over to the women. "Shamus wants you," he said to them. "All of you go on over to the bar. I think he needs your help."

The women walked over, the crowd parting as they walked past. Some of the men leered at them, while others looked nervous, worried at what Shamus and the Judge had said. Shamus filled up three trays with beer. Wilma, Jessie, and Laura each took a tray and headed to a nearby table. Then he gave Bridget and Maggie empty buckets and sent them around to fetch empty glasses.

Dan watched the women working, smiling at the expressions on their faces. Then he turned back to the Doc. "What do you mean 'complete physical' Doc?"

"I mean the sort of examination that I'd give any real woman who wasn't feeling right, check her blood pressure, her heart, and her, um, womanly parts."

"'Womanly parts', Doc," the Judge said. "Aside from the obvious, what exactly do you have in mind?"

"Look, Your Honor," the Doc said, "those...women are going to be the township's charge for 60 days. If anything happens, if they get sick or anything, I'm the one Dan here or Shamus is going to call. I don't want to have to guess what is or isn't working when that happens." He paused for a moment. "Besides, if they're _real_ women like Shamus said, they're going to be having their, um, monthlies sooner or later. I figure I'd better find out, so we -- they -- can be ready when it happens."

"Spoken like a true man of science," the Judge said. "Or a dirty old letch."

Doc Upshaw laughed. "Guilty on both counts, but I think you see my point."

"I do," Dan said. "I'll talk to Shamus -- better talk to Molly, too. Hanks and the other...ladies will probably be over to see you tomorrow or the day after. No, that'd be Sunday; let's say tomorrow or Monday."

"Fine," Doc said. "I'll be ready."

"Now that we've settled the point, gentlemen, shall we see about _our_ drinks?" The Judge pointed towards the bar. It was still crowded, but not as badly as a few minutes before.

* * * * *

The women had walked slowly to the bar as the Sheriff told them to. They looked at the men in the crowd as they walked past them. A few were laughing --laughing! -- at them. Laura and Jessie's hands reached down instinctively for their pistols, arms bent fingers extended, ready to draw. Then their hands brushed against the fabric of their dresses, and they realized that they didn't even know where the weapons were.

Other men had other thoughts on their minds. The women heard whispers about their new bodies and how pretty they looked now. A few of the whispers had lewd invitations, questions about how willing the women might be to try out what they now had. They felt very uncertain of themselves. They were unarmed, surrounded by enemies who were now a lot bigger, a lot stronger than they were.

Thankfully, a few of the men in the crowd were afraid. The women -- the men they had been -- liked having people afraid of them, even if it was really a fear of Shamus and the potion. Whatever it was, it was welcome.

Wilma walked over towards one man, who stepped back from her, his eyes wide with fear. He was trapped by the push of the men behind him. "Boo!" Wilma said, looking him straight in the eye. The man jumped. Wilma grinned for the first time since she'd stepped into the saloon hours earlier as Will Hanks.

By now, they were at the bar. "There'll be none more of them shenanigans, Wilma," Shamus told her. "I want ye all to behave -- no fighting with me customers -- and, at least, _try_ to smile." He filled several glasses with beer, setting them on trays. "Wilma, ye, Jessie, and Laura take these beers to the men sitting at the tables over there." He pointed to the tables nearby. A group of men were sitting at each table, not wanting to suffer the crush at the bar. "As soon as ye've done that, come back with the tray. There's a lot of thirsty men in me place tonight."

The three women each took a tray and started walking towards the table. Wilma was gritting her teeth, Jessie had the same simper on her face as before, and Laura's lips were drawn into two tight lines. Still, their expressions _might_ be called smiles.

Wilma set her tray down on the table and waited for the men to take their beers. No one did. "We kinda thought it'd be nice to have you serve us, _Miss_ Hanks," one of the men said. They all laughed.

Wilma shuddered, trying to fight the orders she had been given. The words rang in her head, and she couldn't disobey. Without a word, she took the glasses one at a time off the tray, placing each near a man. As she put the last glass down near the man who had asked to be served, he put his hand around hers. "Maybe you'd like to join us?"

Wilma twisted her wrist, trying to get free. As she did, she turned the glass quickly. The beer spilled out all over the front of the man's shirt. He howled and let go of her wrist. Before anyone could grab her again, Wilma grabbed the tray and ran back to the bar.

She felt humiliated. What had happened had been an accident, but it was just the sort of thing a woman would do. In fact, a woman had done it to Will years before. That night, he'd _had_ a pistol. One shot in the ceiling, and the bartender was over at his table making the woman apologize. She had -- twice; once there in the bar and a second time a few minutes later in his room. That apology had taken all night, but it had surely been worth the cost of getting a beer on his shirt.

The problem was that _he_ -- _she_ -- was now the pretty little thing that spilt the beer. She seemed to have gotten away with it today, what was she going to have to do eventually by way of an apology?

The men at Jessie's table had taken the beers. One of them, though, managed to pinch her ass. She let out a yelp of surprise and backed away. She could hear the men kidding "Whitey," the one who'd pinched her, as she turned and walked back to the bar.

Laura was warned by the behavior of the men at the two other tables. Her "smile" shifted. She bared her teeth and let go with a soft growl as she set the tray down. The men quieted and took their drinks. She was actually smiling as she returned to the bar.

"I think we're going to run out of glasses soon," Molly called just after the three had left.

"I'm working on it," Shamus said. He reached down under the bar and pulled out two large, cloth-lined buckets. "Bridget, ye and Maggie go around to the tables and get the empties -- and mind ye don't be breaking any of them. When the buckets are full, take them into the back room and empty them out on the table by the big sink. There's a bunch of trays of clean glasses in racks by the sink. Bring those out and give them to R.J." He pointed at a door set in the wall near the end of the bar, then at the tall barman.

Shamus watched as the pair walked from table to table filling the buckets. He couldn't help smiling. It was nice to have extra help, and even better to get paid for having them.

Bridget was straining at the weight of her bucket when she got to the door to the back room. She pushed against it with her back and went through. There was a large double sink not from the door, a fancy one with a new brass pump. She carefully put the bucket down in the wide counter to the left of the sink.

There were six trays with about twenty clean glasses in each stacked to the right of the sink. Bridget took a breath and tried to lift two trays at once. It would have been easy for the man she had been, but she could hardly raise the trays off the stack. With a sigh, she took the top tray and headed back towards the bar.

Maggie was coming towards the door as Bridget walked through. She braced the door opened for Maggie who was straining with her bucket. "Gracias," Maggie said, actually smiling for the first time since the change. Bridget nodded and walked towards the bar.

"Here, let me take that," the barman said just as she reached the bar. He took the tray from Bridget and put it on a shelf behind the bar. "I'm R.J., by the way, R.J. Rossi, the assistant bartender."

"I know who you are, Rossi," Bridget said. "If you're in so much of a hurry to be friendly, why don't you help Maggie there with her glasses." Maggie had just made it to the bar with her tray of glasses; Bridget had heard her panting as she walked.

"Right you are, ma'am," R.J. said. He took the tray from Maggie and stacked it on the first. "You, umm, ladies, need help with those trays?"

"Not from you," Bridget said, determined not to be treated like some helpless woman. She took Maggie's arm and walked quickly back to get more trays. They were heavy, but the two women managed.

Shamus traded the women off at that point. Wilma, Jessie, and Laura gathered up another load of dirty glasses, while Maggie and Bridget fetched beers to the tables. Then Shamus got out soap and washrags and pumped water into both sinks. Molly put aprons on the three to protect their dresses. Wilma washed glasses, Jessie rinsed off the soapy water, and Laurie dried the dishes and put them in trays. She was almost as strong as she'd been as a man and had no trouble stacking the trays.

There were a few incidents during the evening.

Maggie dropped her empty tray and let out a stream of Spanish profanity when a cowboy at one table pulled her down onto his lap; Shamus hadn't forbid cussing. The cowboy quickly let her up, and he seemed impressed at her florid vocabulary, even if he couldn't understand most of it. "She's a wildcat, she is," he said with a laugh. "Girl's like that is hard to tame -- but Lordy, they's sure a lot of fun once you do!" Maggie bent over to pick up the tray, and the man slapped her on the butt. She turned, ready to hit him over the head with the tray, but the voice stopped her. She hurried back to the bar, leaving another stream of Spanish profanity in her wake.

Later in the evening, a tall man with a handlebar mustache rose as Bridget came to his table. He bowed slightly and took the tray from her. "Allow me, ma'am," he said. He handed the beers out to the others at the table, taking one for himself. Bridget stared uncertain how to react. "A true pleasure, fair lady," the man said as he handed the tray back. But when Bridget reached for it, he grabbed her hand and quickly raised it to his lips.

Bridget was caught completely by surprise. She made a sound like a squeak and pulled her hand away. The men all began to laugh. She wanted to slug the SOB, but the voice wouldn't let her. She grabbed for her tray and hurried back to the bar.

Shamus stood behind the bar watching the new women. "Don't you think ye're overdoing it," Molly said, walking over to him. "I heard ye encouraging a few of the men out there to try their mischief on the new ones."

"Perhaps, me love," he said, as he put an arm around her waist. "But I wanted them, well, off-guard, ye might say; sort of force them to face up to what had happened to them. Besides, I wanted to see what would happen."

"What do ye mean, Shamus?"

"How'd they act; how the potion would control them, more important _if_ it would control them." He scratched his cheek. "They still act like men; walk like 'em, even talk like 'em some. I don't think they'd act like ladies, even if I told them to."

"That's the truth, for sure. I'm not sure I could even _teach_ them to be acting -- to be thinking -- like they was real women."

"I don't want ye to try, Molly, not completely anyway; just to dress and act enough like women, so's they don't be embarrassing themselves -- or us.

"That, I think I can do; even if they don't obey me like they do ye, Shamus."

"Aye, there's truth enough in that; Maggie surely cusses like a man. They do obey me, though. Ye could tell how much they wanted to beat up the men that got...fresh with them." He laughed at the memory of the women's reactions. "Only, I told them they couldn't be fighting -- couldn't be hurting anyone, and so they couldn't." He laughed again, and this time Molly joined him.

"Shamus, me love, I think we're going to be having us a most interesting 60 days with those five."

"That, Molly, I'm thinking, is an understatement."

* * * * *

Shamus looked up at the big clock mounted on the wall. It was 1:47. He pulled a hand bell from under the bar and rang it twice. "Last call, gents. Last call."

A few people ordered another drink. Most finished the one they had and made ready to leave. At exactly 2 PM, as per town ordinance, Shamus and Molly chased the last of the customers out.

Wilma put the tray of empty glasses she was carrying down onto the bar and sighed. "Finished at last." The other women nodded in agreement.

"Not quite yet," Shamus said. "Ye and Maggie gather up all the glasses and such from the tables and take them back to the sink. Laura, ye do the same for any glassware or other stuff at the bar; R.J. will tell ye what to take. Jessie, ye clean the tables, throw away any trash on them. Bridget, get the broom and gride from the kitchen and sweep up around the tables." He paused as the women began moving about the bar. "Ye get all that work done -- and I mean done to _my_ satisfaction, and ye'll be finished for tonight.

About forty minutes later, it was done to Shamus' satisfaction. Five very tired women slowly climbed back up the stairs. Shamus stopped them at the door to their room. "Molly, ye'd better go in and help the ladies get ready for bed." As the women walked past him into the room, he added, "And ye'll mind Molly like ye'd mind me."

"Thanks, Love," Molly said. She kissed Shamus on the cheek and followed the women into their room.

As soon as she stepped through the door, Molly used her lamp to light a large candle on a steel candleholder hung on the wall just inside the door. There was more than enough light see by. "All right, ladies," Molly said as she shut the door behind herself. "Unbutton your dresses, take them off, and hang them on the bar besides your bed."

The women did as told. When Jessie's dress fell off the hanger, Molly showed her the trick of buttoning it to the neck, so it would stay on. The petticoats were next. She had the women fold them carefully -- "They're the only ones you got, so be careful with them," she said. -- and put them in the dressers.

Then, they were told to unbutton their corsets. Most of the women sighed and moaned with relief when they came off. Jessie, Laura, and Maggie rubbed their stomachs to bring the blood back into the pressed flesh. Bridget actually was rubbing the underside of her breast until she caught herself at it and pulled her hand away as if from a hot stove.

The stockings came off next and were also put away. The women were now sitting or standing in just their chemises and drawers. Molly thought they looked like the pictures on those chewing tobacco trading cards that some men collected. She smiled and thought about pointing that fact out. No, the women would realize soon enough how pretty -- how attractive -- they looked now. The attention they'd gotten from the men during the evening should already have told them something. Anyway, they were probably too tired to think about such things at the moment. The best thing was just to get them ready for bed.

"Open up that last package," Molly said. "The pink ones on yer beds."

The women obeyed. Inside were white cotton nightgowns. The gowns were floor length, long sleeve, and cut to a woman's figure. The collars were lace and tied with a ribbon, which could be drawn tight, fairly close to the neck, or left so loose that the neckline draped at the woman's shoulder.

"Take off your chemises and drawers and put those on," Molly said. "Then put the other clothes away in the night tables with yer other underwear."

The women obeyed. They moved quickly, again not wanting to see or be seen by the others as they stripped. All of them hurriedly wriggled into their nightgowns. Molly told them about the ribbons at the collars. Laura and Maggie tied theirs, pulling the ribbon tight. Jessie started to pull her, but she stopped and stared down at his new breasts. She frowned and dropped the ribbon.

Molly had them get into their beds. Wilma, Bridget, and Laura turned over to try and sleep on their stomachs. Molly watched as they lay there squirming until they gave up and rolled onto their backs. It was, she knew, the only way they could be comfortable with their new breasts.

"Now ye just close yer eyes and lay there, quiet as mice, until ye fall asleep," Molly said. "And I'll be seeing ye in the morning." She gathered up the pink wrapping paper, then blew out the candle as the women were getting into bed.

Wilma had wanted to talk, so had a couple of the other women, though the others were too mortified by the events of the day to say a word. Molly hadn't ordered them to sleep, but they were so tired that they were all dozing in a matter of a few minutes.

* * * * *

Saturday, July 22, 1871, Week 1 -- Day 2

The sun rose over the eastern end of the Superstition Mountains and shone in through the bedroom windows of Eerie, Arizona. For years, Will Hanks had always taken the bed nearest the window. It made things easier, if somebody came in through the door. Jesse always slept in the bed nearest his brother.

A shaft of sunlight hit Jessie directly in the eyes. Still more asleep than awake, she rolled over onto her stomach and tried to get comfortable. It wasn't possible; there was something pushing against her chest. Whatever it was, it seemed to move with her. Jessie could feel the peculiar weight when she rolled over again.

Jessie reached up to push off whatever it was. Her eyes opened wide in alarm as she realized she was touching female breasts. She looked down and saw the breasts that she had forgotten about.

Everyone in the saloon heard Jessie's wild yowl of rage.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Jessie?" Wilma said, snapping awake.

"I'm a girl, Wil -- hellfire, so are you. What the...oh, damn, now I remember. Damn that sheriff; I'm...we're girls."

Jessie heard a sound like a painful chuckle. "You must really be a girl, Jessie," Laura said. "Cause you sure as all get out scream like one."

"You go to Hell," Jessie snapped.

There was a knock at the door. "Are you all right in there?" Shamus shouted through the door.

"We's fine," Wilma called, her voice a barely-controlled growl. "Jessie just forgot what she was for a minute."

"Well, now that she's remembered, we might as well all get up. Ye girls all get dressed in the clothes ye wore last night," Shamus said through the door. "I'll send Molly along in a few minutes to help ye, and I want ye all to mind her same as always."

The women heard his footsteps fade as he walked away. They all climbed out of bed and began to lift off their nightgowns. They were naked underneath them, and, in the daylight, they could hardly avoid looking at one another.

"Damned, but you guys sure turned out pretty," Bridget said, staring at the others.

"You ain't exactly ugly yourself, _Bridget_," Wilma flared. "But I sure as hell ain't gonna stay this way!" She slipped her chemise over her head and let it slide down around her body

"Yeah," Maggie said, doing the same. "That is not what the _jefe_...the Judge say."

"Never mind what that old fool said," Wilma snapped. She stepped into her drawers and pulled them up around her waist. "You don't expect them to tell us the truth; do you? There's gotta be something that'll change us back. You all pay attention, listen in case they say anything about it. You hear anything, you come tell me."

"I don't know," Laura said. "These are dangerous hombres. Maybe they've got even worse magic up their sleeve. As if _this_ wasn't bad enough." Her hand gestured at her new figure, once more covered by her feminine undergarments.

"I never figured you for yella..._Laura_," Wilma said. "Besides, what could be worse them this?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to find out, neither," Laura said. She thought for a moment, then sighed softly. "Okay, I'm in."

There was another knock. "It's me, Molly. I'm coming in." She opened the door. "Ah, good. Ye've all got your chemises and drawers on. Does ye all remember how to do the stockings? Anybody need any help with their corset?"

"Why the hell do we have to wear them damn corsets, anyway?" Wilma asked.

"Because ye're ladies now," Molly said, "and a lady is always properly dressed. Besides, it makes yer dresses fit better, makes 'em look better on yers."

"Oh, as if we wanted to look nice in dresses," Bridget returned sarcastically.

"Whether ye want it or not," Molly said, "it's the way ye'll be having it. Now, get dressed -- all of ye. I'll be right here if any of yer be wanting or needing my help with yer clothes."

The women wrapped the corsets around themselves and began buttoning. Only Maggie, with her fuller figure, actually did need help. Since it was morning, and they'd be doing chores, Molly did let them forgo their petticoats. "Keep 'em nice and fresh for tonight," she said.

Once the women were fully dressed, Molly had them stand in a line, while she inspected them. "Ye all look very nice, ladies, very nice indeed."

"Well, whoop-di-do!" Jessie said. "Now that we's dressed, what you got for us for breakfast?"

"Nothing," Molly said, "or at least nothing yet. I'll not be cooking for the lot of ye, not by myself, anyway. Jessie, since yer the one that asked, ye and Laura will be helping today. We'll switch off each morning. I just hope ye know a little about how to cook."

"Excuse me," Maggie said. "I know how to cook."

"Ye'll get yer turn, Maggie," Molly said, "the same as the others."

"No," Maggie said, "I _can_ cook good. I was a ranch cook before...before I go to jail."

"All right, then, we'll just see how good ye really are." Molly said. "Jessie, ye and _Maggie_ will be helping in the kitchen today."

* * * * *

Shamus was waiting for the group downstairs. "Good morning, ladies. I trust ye slept well; even if the waking was a bit loud." When he saw the sour looks on most of their faces, he chuckled. "All right, then, if _that's_ how ye feel. I got chores for them that's not helping Molly in the kitchen."

"That'd be Maggie and Jessie," Molly said. "Maggie claims she can cook."

"And if I know ye, Molly, we'll have the proof soon enough one way or the other. As for the rest, Bridget, ye set them two tables over by the door to the kitchen. Molly'll show ye where the things ye'll be needing are kept. Set them for eight -- four and four -- R.J. usually joins us for breakfast. In the meantime, Wilma and Laura, ye get brooms and sweep --"

"But I swept last night," Bridget protested.

"Aye, ye swept the dirt from around the tables -- and did a good job of it, too," Shamus said. "But the whole floor needs sweeping out before I put down fresh sawdust. Now, get them brooms and get going. It takes a while, but ye can get a good start before breakfast."

* * * * *

They stopped work for breakfast -- coffee, bacon, biscuits and gravy, about twenty minutes later. "Molly, love," Shamus said, "these biscuits is as good any ye've every made."

"Thank ye, Shamus, but if they are," Molly said, "ye can be thanking Maggie for the making of 'em. I think she knows as much about how to be using a kitchen as I do -- maybe more."

"Now that's interesting," Shamus said, pursing his chin. "Tell me true, Jessie, do ye know how to cook, too?"

"Cooking," Jessie said. "That's women's work."

"Which is why I asked ye, Jessie lass. Now answer me question."

"I can make fair coffee," Jessie said, "maybe cook a rabbit I shot; that's about it for me."

Shamus leaned over to the other table, where R.J. was sitting with Bridget, Wilma, and Laura. "How about ye, ladies, does any of yer know how to cook?"

"I know about as much as Jessie," Wilma said. Laura and Bridget admitted that they couldn't do any better.

"We'll let Maggie stay in the kitchen for a while then," Shamus said. "If she's as good as Molly -- and these biscuits -- say she is, then she may stay in there for the next 60 days. The rest of ye will trade off as helper along with yer other chores. Ye may learn something useful."

"Gracias, Señor Shamus," Maggie said. "I enjoy cooking."

'Suck up,' Wilma thought. 'Then again, having somebody on Shamus and Molly's good side might be useful.' She grinned craftily at the thought and took another bite of bacon. 'Besides, the Mex _is_ a good cook.'

* * * * *

They'd been working for a couple hours when Shamus called a break. "Ladies, would the lot of ye please sit down for a bit. I need to be talking to ye."

"What is it?" Wilma asked once they were all seated. "You got some new horror in mind for us?"

"Now that ye mention it, Wilma, them spittoons is ready for cleaning out. Ye can start as soon as I'm done with ye all." He smiled watching her reaction. "I thought I should be telling ye exactly what 'arrangements' ye'll be under while ye're here. I'm new to being a warden -- even in me own Saloon -- so I'll have to play some of it by ear."

"The first thing ye should know," he continued, "is what sort of work ye'll be doing. Well, after last night and this morning, ye know most of it. Ye'll be cleaning and cooking, other chores like that. Plus, ye'll be me barmaids, bringing drinks to me customers. Part of the job is getting them to buy ye drinks, too."

"Yeah, right," Jessie said. "Why should we do something like that?"

"For one thing, because I'm _telling_ ye to. Ye'll be nice to me customers, and ye won't turn down an offer for a drink. Ye'll just make sure to get that drink from me, or Molly, or R.J -- whichever one of us is tending the bar. We'll give ye some of our special stuff. It looks real, but it ain't got no alcohol in it."

Wilma suddenly was _very_ interested. Was alcohol an antidote for that potion of his? Was that why he didn't want them drinking any?

"It's an old barman's trick," Shamus continued. "I've been using it since I opened the place. It does no good for a barman to get drunk, and that also goes for me new barmaids -- which is what ye are for the next 60 days."

Shamus looked at the women. None of them looked particularly happy, but Wilma and Laura looked truly mad. Jessie kept looking over at her...sister, trying to take the lead from Wilma. Bridget and Maggie, they were the interesting ones. They glanced over at Wilma, too, but it seemed to be more in anger. Did they blame her for what had happened?

Now it was time for something a little more to the ladies' liking. "The second reason why ye'll be trying to get folks to buy you drinks is for the money. That's right, I split the profit on any drink somebody buys for one of ye with that lady. It only comes to about a penny a drink, but that can add up."

"Well," Jessie laughed, "at least we'll get something for working here, even if it is a penny a drink."

"Oh, ye get more than that, Jessie," Shamus said. "I'm paying ye prison wages, 15 cents a day. It's all be yuirs when the 60 days is up, and ye gets out, _and_ ye can keep the clothes and such that we buy for ye."

Maggie raised her hand. "Señor Shamus, can you mail some of that money for me?"

"Mail it?" Molly asked. "Mail it where?"

"I...I give you the address later; is down in Mexico." Maggie stiffened, and Shamus got that feeling that the address was all she was going to tell him.

"All right, Maggie," Shamus said. "We'll talk about the details later."

"Thank you," Maggie said, looking very relieved about something. "Thank you very much, Señor Shamus.

"If you two are finished playing post office, can we get back to whatever else Shamus wants to talk to us about?" Wilma said through gritted teeth.

"Actually, Wilma" Shamus said, "I'm about finished. I know how eager ye are to get to them spittoons. I do have one last thing to say, though. This is a square house, as they say. I'll be as fair to the five of ye while ye're here, as ye all are to me."

* * * * *

Molly looked around the saloon at the women carrying drinks to customers. It was early afternoon, and people were just drifting in. She shook her head and clicked her tongue.

"What's the matter, Love?" Shamus asked coming over to stand next to her.

"Their hair, Shamus," Molly said. "It grew in tangled when they...changed, and it's none the better for a day of wear and being slept in."

"And that bothers you, don't it?" Shamus said. "It sure as hell don't bother the five of them."

"Aye, it bothers me. They just ain't been _female_ long enough to know that it should be bothering them. Shamus, they's gonna be girls for the rest of thuir lives -- that's what you said, right?"

"Aye. I certainly don't know of any way to change them back."

"Then we'll not be doing them any favors if we don't teach them how to be acting like something better than slatterns."

"I think ye may be right, me Love, but we can't do everything at once...eh, I know that look. Ye've something in mind, don't ye?"

"I do. Would ye be upset, if I took a few minutes to run over to talk to Rachel and Aaron at that general store of thuirs?"

"Molly, girl, I'd be _amazed_ if ye ran over to Aaron's store for a _few_ minutes." He laughed. "Go ahead, but at least try to hurry back."

Molly made a face. Then she kissed him on the cheek and hurried out.

* * * * *

"See you later, Shamus," Cap Lewis said as he walked out of the Saloon.

Shamus waved goodbye and looked around. The place was almost empty. People were going home for supper or, in a few cases, to evening jobs. Molly was talking to a couple of guys playing poker over at a corner table. "Molly," he called over to her, "why don't ye be taking the ladies upstairs to get ready for the evening's business. I'll be up in a minute."

Molly nodded. She gave a hug to the man she'd been sitting next to, then kissed the other on the forehead. "Good luck to the both of ye," she said and stood up. She walked around the room, sending each of the new women in the room upstairs in turn. "I'll be seeing ye up there, Shamus," she said as she walked past the bar. "Ye can change that filthy shirt of yuirs whilst ye're at it." She walked into the kitchen, then came out a minute later with Maggie following her. Molly stopped at the bar to pick up a package she'd left there earlier and climbed the stairs with Maggie still following her.

Shamus turned the bar over to R.J. and headed upstairs. He repeated the instruction that the women obey Maggie then went to his own rooms to get a clean shirt for the evening.

"Now that he's gone ladies," Molly said. "Please be taking off yuir dresses, so ye can get yuir petticoat on under 'em." She watched as they unbuttoned their dresses. "Be careful, now. These is the only clothes ye have."

"Who says we want them," Laura said. "I hate having to dress like a woman."

"Ye dress like a woman because ye are one," Molly said. "And ye'd be a lot more uncomfortable working downstairs in just yuir camisole and drawers." Jessie and Bridget laughed at the thought of seeing Laura like that, then stopped when they heard how much their laughter sounded like giggling. Laura frowned poisonously their way.

"This time," Molly said firmly, "I'm not asking, and I'm not being polite. You take off them dresses right now, but mind that ye don't do anything to hurt 'em." Grudging but obedient, the women stepped out of their dresses and laid them more or less carefully over their beds.

Maggie ripped open the wrapping paper on the package she'd carried and put it down on the table to reveal a pile of hairbrushes with decorated wooden handles. "Now each of ye come over here and take one of these brushes; pick one ye like because it'll be yuirs from now on."

Each of the women did as told. "Now what?" Bridget asked through clenched teeth.

"Now, I'm gonna unsnarl yuir hair," Molly said. "There's not a one of ye that doesn't look like she's wearing a bird's nest."

"Big deal," Bridget said with a dismissive toss of her head.

"Aye, Bridget, it is a big deal, or it should be. Ye can be first to see why. Come over here and sit down." Bridget scowled, but she took her place in the chair next to Molly. "The rest of ye get into yuir petticoats."

"All right, now, Bridget. I'll try to be gentle, but this may hurt. Sit as still as ye can." Molly began to brush Bridget's red hair. It was very fine with a lot of small knots and snarls, but after a few minutes of work and no little painful squirming from Bridget, the brush could at last be drawn smoothly through her hair.

"Fine, Bridget," Molly said with a sense of satisfaction. "Now stand up, so I can check yuir corset." Bridget pushed herself up, and Molly checked and tightened a couple of the corset strings. "All right, then, Bridget, go put on yuir petticoat." She paused as an idea came to her. "And when ye've got it on, I want ye to sit down and brush yuir hair, thirty strokes on each side. And with each stroke, I want ye to say, 'I am a girl.' Maybe _that_'ll get ye used to the idea."

"Wha-what!" Bridget sputtered. "But that-that's just dumb."

"Dumb or not," Molly said. Ye'll do it...all of ye'll do it after I get the knots out yuir hair. And ye'll all do it every day from now on when ye get ready for working in the evening. I'll have Shamus make sure of that when we go back downstairs."

Bridget and the others looked shocked, but they had no real choice. Bridget fumbled with her petticoat, but as soon as it was on, she felt compelled to sit down and reach for the brush she had picked. The voice in her head gave her no real choice. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl," she said, over and over, as she ran the brush through her hair.

"Wilma," Molly said, "ye're next." Wilma came over and sat down in the chair. Her dark curls ran far down her back, and it took Molly some time to unsnarl all the knots and tangles. Through it all, Wilma gritted her teeth and tried hard not to flinch.

"Lovely," Molly said, "Now ye go over and brush yuir hair, just like I told Bridget to do."

Wilma moved away and stepped into her petticoat. She pulled it up and tied the ribbons that held it at her waist, and then, hands trembling, she picked up her personal brush. "I'm a girl," she repeated aloud as she brushed her hair, but with each stroke, in her mind, she added the phrase, 'for now.'

* * * * *

Sunday, July 23, 1871, Week 1 -- Day 3

"Nu, so how are they working out?" Shamus looked up from the behind the bar where he was working to see Rachel and Aaron Silverman standing there. "I've been dying to hear."

"If yesterday wasn't our busiest day, she'd have spent it over here," Aaron said. "A fine thing for my wife, to spend a day at a saloon like some _shicker_ -- excuse me, like some drunkard. She wouldn't let me be this morning; we didn't come over to see them. To tell the truth, I was a little curious myself to see what was doing with the, ah, women."

"G'morning, Rachel...Aaron," Shamus said, then he laughed. "Between Friday and Saturday nights, I think most of the town was in here to find out the same thing. It certainly helped business."

Aaron nodded, knowingly. "You could put a sign up maybe, 'Women's clothing furnished by Silverman's General Store?' It wouldn't hurt my business either." He winked and smiled.

"So where are they, already?" Rachel asked.

Shamus thought for a moment. "Bridget and Laura are upstairs; Maggie and the Hanks, umm, sisters are helping Molly in the kitchen."

"Those momsers -- SOBs -- doing chores like they was hired servant girls," Aaron said with a laugh. "This, I've got to see." Rachel nodded in agreement.

"I don't see why ye shouldn't," Shamus said. "Which do ye want to be seeing first, the upstairs or the kitchen?"

"The upstairs," Rachel said.

Shamus nodded. "Might as well, I've got to check on them anyway." He led the group up to the second floor. "We had three, no, four boys stayed in the 'Pit' last night. They've gone now, back to whatever jobs they have, and the ladies is cleaning up and getting things back in order.

The 'Pit' was a large room with about ten mattresses on the floor. Shamus and Molly rented the mattresses out for a nickel a night, often to men too drunk to try and find their way home.

"There ye are," Shamus said. "What do ye think or my new help."

The door was open. Laura had the window open and was shaking a blanket out in the air. Bridget was sweeping the floor with a straw broom. Both women were wearing aprons over the dresses Rachel had given them on Friday.

"I think they need some more clothes," Rachel said. "They can't be wearing those same dresses forever." She clucked her tongue. "Or the same things under their dresses."

Bridget and Laura had stopped when they heard voices. "Get back to work," Shamus said. "Nobody said ye could stop." He looked carefully at the women. "Laura, that blanket's done. Ye can put it with the others. Bridget, make sure ye sweep up in the corners, too. That's where the dust likes to hide."

Both women returned sour glances. Then Laura pulled in the blanket and began to fold it. That done, she put it in a basket with another blanket and four small pillows. There was one blanket left, crumpled up on a mattress. She snatched it up and carried it to the window. She held on to two corners and tossed the rest out the window. Then she began shaking it out.

"Shall we be seeing how they're doing out in the kitchen now?" Shamus asked.

"Why not," Aaron said. "If I wanted to watch somebody make beds, I could stay home and watch Rachel."

"Aaron loves hard work," Rachel said. "He can sit for hours and watch me do it." Shamus laughed. Aaron snorted and pretended to be upset until Rachel kissed him on the cheek. Then he laughed along with them.

Shamus to the women again. "When ye've finished in here, ladies, ye can go clean up yuir own room. Then come downstairs. Laura, ye bring down the basket with the pillows and blankets when ye do."

Shamus led his companions to the kitchen. "What smells so good?" Rachel asked as they walked through the saloon.

"Maggie and me is making the 'Free Lunch'," Molly said.

Rachel was amazed. "Maggie? You mean you're letting one of _them_ cook. What if she tries to poison somebody?"

"I'll not be worrying about that," Shamus said. "She likes to cook. She says that's what she did before she got mixed up with the Hanks boys -- excuse me -- the Hanks girls. Besides, me Molly's been watching everything she did." He pushed open the door, and they walked into the kitchen.

Maggie was cooking ground meat in an iron frying pan that covered almost two burners of the wood stove, while Molly watched. Wilma and Jessie were at the sink. Jessie, her sleeves rolled up, was washing glasses. Wilma rinsed them and stuck them into trays for stacking.

"How's that food coming?" Shamus asked.

"Bueno," Maggie said. "Good. I saw the es-spices you have, and I ask Señora Molly. She say I can cook something from back home."

"Aye," Molly said. "The way she talked, it sounded worth the trying."

"It smells pretty good," Shamus said, "but will it be something me customers will be eating once it gets cold?"

"Oh, si," Maggie said. "On bread, especially, it is good cold. You see, they will like it."

"I'll be trying a taste of it now," Shamus said.

Maggie took a large spoon and got some of the meat. "Be careful; is hot."

Shamus blew on the spoon, then tasted the meat. "Mmmm, it is hot...spicy, too, but I'm thinking they'll be eating lots of it." He laughed. "And drinking lots of beer to fight them spices. Good girl."

"Well, I'm certainly satisfied," Rachel said. "You got them working just like you said they would."

"I'm not satisfied -- not quite," Aaron said. "I'd like to try some of that meat, too." Maggie looked over at Molly. Molly nodded, and Maggie gave him a taste. "_Now_ I'm satisfied. You got yourself a regular chef there, Shamus."

"Aye," Shamus said. "And don't be thinking I'll not be putting her to good use cooking for us while she's here."

"By the way, Aaron, will ye be opened after lunch today?" Molly asked.

"Of course," Aaron said. "We only close on Sunday morning because Thad Yingling asked me to." The Reverend Doctor Thaddeus Yingling, a Methodist minister from Indiana, held a service at the schoolhouse every Sunday. He and Aaron played chess twice a week in the Silverman's parlor, above the store.

"Good," Molly said. "I'll be bringing the ladies over this afternoon. They might as well get a chance to pick out their own clothes, even if they don't know that much about women's clothes yet."

"Just as long as they don't spend too much," Aaron said. "As the owner of the store, I want all the business I can get, _but_ as a member of the town council, I don't want to spend any more of the township budget that we have to." He winked. "Besides, that penny-pinching barber we got as town treasurer, Whit, would make my life miserable if we did."

"Lots but cheap...and good quality," Shamus said. "If anyone can do it, ye can."

* * * * *

Aaron Silverman looked up as the bell over his front door rang. "Molly...and the new ladies, welcome to my store. What brings you in this fine day?"

"Thank you, Aaron," Molly said. "I told ye this morning that we'd be over, I want the ladies to pick up a few things to wear."

"So you did, Molly," Aaron said. "Rachel's in the back. I'll call her." He took a breath. "Rachel," he called loudly, "come out. There's some people here to see you."

Rachel came scurrying through the curtain that separated the store from the storeroom in back. "I'm coming, I'm coming already," she said. "Molly...ladies, welcome. You come over here. I got such nice dresses." She motioned towards a rack along a section of wall with over a dozen dresses hanging from it.

"Do we gotta," Jessie whined.

"Yes, ye do, Jessie," Molly said. "Ye can't be wearing that one dress all the time, none of ye can. Whit said we can buy two or three dresses for each of ye with...unmentionables to match."

Maggie muttered something in Spanish.

"You are too beautiful to be talking like that," came a man's voice from nearby. He also spoke in Spanish.

"What," Maggie said in Spanish. "Who are you to talk to me like that?"

"I'm sorry, Ramon," Rachel said. "I can't follow what you're saying."

Ramon was a tall man with the dark skin and eyes of a Mexican. He was about thirty, tall with straight black hair and a small mustache. "I am sorry, Señora Rachel. When I heard her speak my language, I felt like I should answer her."

"Then ye should know who it is ye're talking to," Molly said. "Rachel, ye can do the honors."

Rachel smiled. "Ramon, this is Maggie...Margarita Lopez. She'll be...ah...living over at Molly's saloon for the next 60 days or so. Maggie, this is Ramon deAguilar, he's a clerk here. Some of our customers like having someone what can talk to them in their own lingo."

Raman bowed low and took Maggie's hand. He raised it towards his lips, but Maggie grabbed it away, muttering something in Spanish and glaring at the man.

Rachel laughed. "I'm sorry, Ramon. I should have warned you."

"Warned me?" Ramon asked. "Warned me about what?"

"Well," Rachel began, "did you heard about that gang that came into town looking for the sheriff?"

"Si. They say the sheriff and Shamus used some kind of magic on them and turned them into..." His eyes grew wide. "This...Margarita, surely _she_ cannot one of _those_ men?"

"Who are you to say that," Maggie said angrily in Spanish. The man's attention was making her uncomfortable.

Molly guessed what Maggie had said. "Up to a few days ago, Maggie here was Miguel Lopez. These others are the rest of the gang."

"I had heard, but I had not believed," Ramon said in English. He looked hard at the others, then stared at Maggie, his eyes going from her head to her feet and back up. "What ever you used, Señora Molly, it does muy...does very good work." He paused a beat, falling into his work persona. "May I help you -- help all of you -- with your shopping?"

"I'll take care of them, Ramon," Rachel said. "They're here to buy dresses and other...things that women wear. I think I have a bit more experience in that line than you do."

Ramon bowed. "Then I leave you in Rachel's good hands. We have many nice dresses in stock, and I look forward to seeing how much more beautiful you will make them look when you wear them." He smiled at them all, saving his last smile -- and a wink -- for Maggie before he walked away to help someone looking at a harness.

* * * * *

Tuesday, July 25, 1871, Week 1 -- Day 5

Doc Upshaw came by the Saloon early in the afternoon. He had a short talk with Molly first; then they both had a longer one with Shamus.

"Ladies," Shamus called, clapping his hands, "Come over here and sit down." He pointed to one of the tables near the bar. He waited until they were all sitting, a sour look on his face. "Ladies, Doc Upshaw has been talking to me. He, umm, thinks -- and I'm afraid that I have to agree -- that it'd be a, umm, good idea for him to, umm, see just how...how much of a woman ye, umm, are."

"Why you goddamned SOB," Laura said, jumping to her feet. "You making me no whore!"

"We'll have none of that," Molly said. "Sit down and listen to what Shamus says to yer before ye go off like that again." Laura glowered, but she sat.

"To, umm, to make a long story short --" Shamus said.

"It's too long already," Bridget said and laughed. Most of the others, including Molly and R.J., joined in. Even Laura laughed.

Shamus face was beginning to redden. "To make a long story short, the Doc is gonna be, umm, giving each of ye a, umm, physical exam; to check out yer...new parts, as it were. And Bridget," he paused for effect, "in recognition of that witty remark, ye get to go first."

"I...but...no, umm, Shamus...you...can't be serious," Bridget said, a look of dismay on her face.

Shamus let out a laugh. "No, I can't. Ye'll all be going, and we'll let the Doc decide who goes first."

"We won't," Jessie said, jumping to her feet.

"Ye certainly will," Shamus said, "and I'll be right there to make sure that ye mind what he tells ye to do."

"The Devil ye will, Shamus O'Toole," Molly said, coming up to stand near him. "I'll not stand for ye to spend an afternoon looking at these ladies' privates."

"Molly, Molly, me love, ye misunderstand me." Shamus said. "Do ye remember how the ladies stopped doing what Rachael was telling them to do?"

"I do," Molly said carefully. "What's that got to do with anything?" Then she nodded in agreement as she understood what he meant.

Shamus nodded. "Well, I'll be sitting with ye and the ladies in the Doc's waiting room. When he calls each of the ladies in, ye'll go in with her. But before ye do, I'll tell her to obey ye and the Doc."

"And ye'll stay in that waiting room with the others." Molly said.

"Exactly." He turned to face the women. "And, ladies, just so ye know, we'll be leaving in about half an hour. The Doc said things is quiet in town, and he wanted to see ye as soon as he could. R.J., ye'll stay here and mind the place."

* * * * *

Doc Upshaw's office was a couple streets down from the Saloon. The front room served as a waiting area, with three horsehair couches for patients. Mrs. Edith Lonnigan sat at a small desk over in the corner. She was a small woman in her late 50s, a widow who kept the Doc's files in order and sent out bills to the few patients who might pay them. She cleaned the four-bed ward at the back of the office and helped out with nursing duties when there were patients in it.

She also was there to chaperone the Doc and any woman patient he might have. Some women brought a friend or relative, but many didn't. It wouldn't do for even a man as refined as the Doc to be alone with a female patient, especially when she was not completely dressed.

Mrs. Lonnigan looked up when the bell over the door jingled. "Hello, Shamus, Molly. Are these the women the Doc's going to be examining?"

"Aye, they are," Shamus said. He motioned with his hand. "Come on in now, ladies, and take seats till the Doc cam see yers."

Mrs. Lonnigan watched as Shamus, Molly, and five attractive young women walked slowly into the office and sat down. "It's hard to believe these ladies were once desperate men, she said."

"It is remarkable," Molly said. "That's why the Doc wants to see them. He wants to see just how well that magic potion of me husband's works."

"Oh, yes, I heard about that. Who would ever believe the Indians had such powerful magic."

"There's a bit of the auld world's magic mixed in with it, too," Shamus said. "The Indians don't have all the trick." He winked. "But that's all, I'll be telling." He made a motion towards the women. "'Little pitchers' if ye know what I mean."

"I do indeed." Mrs. Lonnigan stood up. "Well, I'll tell the Doctor that you and your ladies are here." She left through a door in the back wall to return a moment later with Doc Upshaw. The Doc had his jacket off. He was wearing a white cotton apron and a matching cap. On his forehead was a small mirror attached to a metal band went most of the way around the Doc's head.

"Good to see you again, Molly, Shamus," the Doc said. "Are the ladies ready for their examinations?"

"No, Shamus said, "but I'll not be letting that stop me. Which one does ye want to see first?"

The Doc thought for a moment. "Jessie, I think. She seems to have had the most radical transformation."

Shamus turned towards the couch where Jessie was sitting. "Jessie, ye'll go with the Doc and Molly now, and ye'll obey them the same as if it was me talking. Do ye understand what I'm telling ye?"

"Yes," Jessie nodded. She stood and followed the Doc back through the door. Molly went behind her.

* * * * *

Doc Upshaw's office was a narrow windowless room with cabinets of medical supplies and equipment along every wall. The room was brightly lit by candles placed all around the room on wall brackets. Doc sat down behind a small desk and motioned for Molly and Jessie to sit in the chairs on the nearer side.

He wrote Jessie's name on the top page of a tablet of lined paper. "Now, I want to get some background information first. Tell me, Jessie, When were you born and how old are you?"

"I was born on May 16, 1843. I'm 28 years old."

Doc wrote down the information. "Hmm, apparent rejuvenation as well; you look to be in your late teens."

"You mean she got younger, too," Molly said.

"Does she look like someone in her late 20s," Doc asked.

Molly shook her head. "Too bad that potion don't work on women, too. I sure wouldn't mind being 20 again."

"Neither would I," Doc said, "though the cost would be a bit higher for me. Still..." He paused for a moment. "How tall are you, Jessie, and what do you weigh?"

"I don't know," Jessie said. "I'm a whole lot smaller than I used to be."

"All right, then. How tall were you and how much did you weight before?"

"I was 5 foot 10, and I weighted 'bout 170 -- all of it muscle, too. Now look at me." She held up her slender arms disdainfully.

"I intend to. What color were your eyes and hair?"

"Dark brown hair, brown eyes, like my pa." Jessie was becoming angry, remembering that her new light blonde hair left her with no family resemblance. She'd have been even angrier to find out that her eyes were now quite blue.

Doc pulled his chair around and took her pulse, timing it with a pocket watch. He examined her eyes and looked down her throat. Then he checked both ears. "Tell her to unbutton the top few buttons of her dress please, Molly."

"Do like he said, Jessie," Molly said. "She should listen to you as well as she does me, Doc."

"I know, but I have to take notes and such. I think it'll be easier if she gets all her instructions from you for now."

Doc used a stethoscope to listen to Jessie's heart. He had her move the disk, as he would have any woman patient, until he could hear clearly. He noticed that Jessie shivered from the cold metal against her flesh. It was a common reaction -- a common _female_ reaction, which he found interesting. Her nerve response proved to be in the normal range, and Doc made a note of this, along with several other things, on the paper as he examined her.

Doc pointed to an opened curtain on a string near the far wall of his office. A clothes pole and chair were between the curtain and the cabinets against that wall. A light cotton robe hung from a hook on the pole. "Molly, tell Jessie -- oh, never mind, I'll tell her directly. Jessie, go behind that curtain and take off your shoes and your dress."

"Why do I --?" Jessie said, trying to fight the impulse to obey.

"Because he told ye, and I'm telling ye," Molly said.

Jessie glowered, but she walked behind the curtain, and pulled it shut behind her.

Doc waited a few minutes until he heard the rustle of moving clothing. "I'll need you to take your corset off, too, please Jessie. Do you want Molly to come back there and help you, or can you do it by yourself?"

"No," came an angry voice, "I can do it alone." When she came out, all she was wearing was her chemise, drawers, and stockings. "There ain't anything else you want me to take off, is there?"

"Not right now," the Doc said. He had her get on a scale, then measured her height against a chart on the wall. "You weights 97 pounds now, Jessie, and you're only 47 inches tall, just under five feet."

Jessie gasped in amazement. Doc used that reaction to place the stethoscope against her chest just below her breasts and listen to her breathing. "Now take a deep breath and hold it." He listened again. "Now you see why I wanted the corset off. Okay, you can let it go." He walked behind Jessie and repeated the process, then made more notes on the paper.

Doc had her sit down and cross her knee, so he could hit it with a hammer. He had her hop a few times on each leg, and he had her close her eyes and touch the tip of her nose with first her fight, then her left, forefingers.

"Close your left eye and look at that chart on the wall." He pointed. "Read the fifth line." She did. Then Doc had her repeat with her right eye closed.

"Now I'll need you to take of your chemise," the Doc said. "There's --" Before Doc could finish, Jessie grabbed the bottom of her chemise and lifted it up over her head. Without a thought of modesty, she tossed it onto the desk. Jesse Hanks had often worked without a shirt, and Jessie still had those male patterns of behavior.

"Well, I never," Molly said.

"That's because you were always a female," Doc said. "Jessie doesn't have that, umm, disadvantage." He turned to Jessie. "Please sit in the chair, your back against the back of the chair. Now, try not to move -- and don't talk. I'm going to examine you breasts."

Jessie shuddered and gritted her teeth. She couldn't move away as Doc gently placed his hand, fingers outstretched, on her left breast. She did let out an involuntary gasp, as Doc arched his fingers slightly and began to move them across her breast. She gasped again when his fingers circled around her nipple. The sensation didn't actually feel bad. That was what unsettled her. She gritted her teeth and made no audible reaction when he repeated the procedure on her right breast, but she felt her bare skin prickling into goosebumps.

"Everything seems in order so far, Jessie," the Doc said, making more notes. "Now, go behind the curtain again and take off those drawers. You can put on your chemise and the robe that's back there, if you want."

Jessie looked distrustful at the idea of removing the drawers, and began to shake her head "no."

"Do it, Jessie," the Doc told her sternly.

"Yes," Molly added, "do it."

Jessie wanted -- wanted desperately to disobey -- but she couldn't; not when both of them ordered it. She walked slowly behind the curtain and began to untie the ribbon that held the drawers tight at her waist. She came out a few moments later, naked from waist to knee and with the oversized robe wrapped tightly around her. She was wearing the chemise again. As much as she hated the chemise, it was better than sitting around naked.

The Doc was working at a leather-bound table that had been in a corner of the room. He stretched a sheet of what looked to Jessie like butcher paper down the length of it, fixing it in place with three very thin leather straps. Then he took two oddly shaped pieces of metal out of a drawer within the table and attached them to the bottom two corners.

Only then did he glance over to see that Jessie was waiting. "All right, Jessie, please sit down here on the table." He patted a point around the middle of the table. Jessie sat down, being careful to keep the robe wrapped around her the entire time.

"Fine, Jessie girl," Molly said. "Now lay down on the table with yer head towards the end where I'm standing; swing yer feet up onto it, too."

Jessie did as she was told. The robe was still wrapped around her, though a bit of her leg showed. Molly lifted her head and put a small pillow under it.

"Now, let your limbs go a bit loose, so I can put them where I need to," Doc said. When Jessie obeyed, he lifted her left leg and rested it on one of the odd metal pieces.

Jessie moved her other leg, so no more of her body would be exposed. "What the hell are you doing?" she complained. Doc didn't answer while he strapped her ankle to the metal piece. Jessie began to complain -- began to curse, rather viciously, in fact -- when the Doc lifted her other leg and strapped it to the other metal piece. Jessie's eyes went wide as she realized that her legs were spread widely apart and that only the robe protected her new, _female_ private parts.

When Doc opened the robe, Jessie closed her eyes, bracing herself for the worst. She opened them again in surprise, when he carefully lifted the bottom of her chemise and began to move his fingertips along her stomach and abdomen. His hand moved from just below her breasts to the area around her naval, stopping a few times to press firmly as if probing for something. Once or twice, he stopped to make a note of something on his pad.

Then, having lowered the chemise, he pulled a tray of instruments out from under the table and put them on the small desk within reach. At that point, he turned and walked away from the table. He took a pair of rubberized gloves and put them on. "Molly, would you please pour that over my hands," he said, pointing to a glass bottle. Molly nodded. She poured slowly, while Doc turned his hands, so that every part of the gloves was washed by the clear liquid.

Doc walked back to the table. "Now, Jessie, this will feel very strange. I'll be as gentle as I can, but please don't move once I start. Nod if you understand what I'm asking."

Jessie nodded. She wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she was darned sure that she wasn't going to like it.

Doc brought a chair over from the desk at set it down at the bottom of the table. He had a band around his head with a mirror that reflected the light into a narrow beam.

Jessie felt Doc's fingers touching her, parting her vaginal lips and touching her inside. She uttered a groan of relief as she felt his fingers withdraw. Then she felt something cold, something metallic, sliding into her, and she gasped, as it seemed to push her flesh apart. Doc's fingers slid inside her again. She felt his fingers probing deeply, while his other hand pressed firmly down on her groin a few inches below her navel.

Jessie shuddered and gasped at the unaccustomed sensations. She gave what came out as a long sigh of relief, when he finally moved his hands away from her and said, "Done."

Jessie closed the robe around her as best she could. Doc and Molly undid the straps around her ankles, and Jessie quickly climbed off the table. "What in same hill were you doing to me just now?" she asked acidly.

Doc looked up from the notes he was furiously scribbling. "Jessie, you've just had your first complete gynecological examination. It's something every woman goes through -- or should go through, anyway. If it's any consolation, your, umm, brother and the other new women are going to be going through the same thing."

"Gyna...co...whatzis?" Jessie asked "What's that mean? And just what did you think you were doing? " She wrapped the robe around her tightly.

"It's a medical exam for ladies," Molly said, "and the Doc wanted to see if you qualify -- as a lady, I mean. By the way, Doc, does she?"

Doc nodded. "Molly, I couldn't find anything that would give even the vaguest hint that Jessie here was _ever_ anything but female, a healthy female about 20 years old, by the way."

Molly turned to Jessie, who was still standing there in her robe. "Jessie, why don't you go get dressed." Jessie nodded and walked behind the curtain.

"Doc," Molly whispered, "is she female enough to be having her...monthlies?"

Doc shrugged. "I think so; at least, I don't see any reason why she shouldn't. My best guess is that she's somewhere near the start of her cycle, and she should have them in about four weeks. Of course, stress or anxiety can hold them up, and she's certainly got enough to be anxious about."

"What are you two whispering about?" Jessie asked coming out from behind the curtain fully dressed.

"We was just talking about how yer exam went," Molly said.

"Anything you want to tell me?" Jessie asked with sudden suspicion.

"I think you'll find out soon enough," Doc said. "Molly, time is fleeting. Why don't you take Jessie back out to the waiting room? Bring in...mmm...Wilma next; I'm curious to compare the two of them. As I recall they looked very much alike...before."

By 4 o'clock, Doc Upshaw had examined all five of the women. He sent them back to the Saloon with Molly and Shamus. Since there was no one else in the waiting room, he went back to his living quarters at the back of the building to study the pile of notes he'd taken that day. Doc had a very strong feeling that he'd be studying -- and adding to them -- quite a bit over the next 60 days.

* * * * *

  

  

  

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