You will enjoy this section more if you have already read part one

 

What Really Happened Was…

by

Donna Dee

 

Part Two

 

Helen and I screwed all night for the ninth night on the trot – I no longer needed sleep, just to keep on and on making love to my very beautiful real life witch. I was dreading the end of the affair and I was aware of Helen dragging the training process out as long as she could, so it seems I'd got to her as well. But for all that, the daytime hours were spent learning the finer points of being a woman; I'd never realised it was so complicated. Helen watched me carefully as I got up, bathed, dressed in the finest clothes imaginable, fix my hair and do my own make-up, and she was a hard taskmaster. I was surprised, and that's an understatement, at how quickly I got the hang of doing it, and by how much I enjoyed doing it as well. I learned how to walk, to sit, to stand up and sit again, and to pleasure a man (practicing on a dummy). I learned how to style and curl my own hair, to talk in a feminine tone and to sing contralto as opposed to my more natural tenor voice. I was shown how to care for my nails, toes and hands, how to paint them properly, (two coats on the toes, three on the fingers) and always to file them, never to cut. She made me wear false nails, frighteningly long to do all these things again so as to get used to them when they became a reality.

I learned about perfume – why the same perfume smells differently on one woman than it does on another. I readily accepted advice on caring for my undies having been told that, whilst I'd be well off, I wouldn't have enough cash to throw away. I was instructed in basic home care – a woman's place and all that – cooking – ironing – how to use washing machines – food mixers – to eat like a woman and to sip my drinks daintily. But perhaps the most important lessons were in choosing what clothes to wear – what one could or couldn't wear on certain occasions, what would or would not go with something else. Helen said common sense would dictate which shoes to wear with what – then promptly decreed that I probably didn't have any, (common sense that is).

In between lessons we had a quick screw or two, (after all you got games periods and P.E. whilst at school, didn't you?) Naturally I spent all day in female clothing, changing completely every couple of hours and lord help me if I selected items that didn't compliment each other – and they had to be different all the time. I had to dress myself to go out to dinner every evening – (including the art of putting my hair up, bold make-up, very high heels and expensive perfume) – and to go shopping – (hair down, light make-up, medium heels. I had to dress correctly for bed, (so's Helen could strip me before we made love), and to cook breakfast – (just nightie and perfume to whet my lover's appetite, whoever he or she may be).

And just to prove what a capable witch she was she crammed all those lessons into five short days. Our last night together was sensational, but neither of us could stop crying. Helen told me again that she had done this sort of thing many times but she had never, ever fallen in love with her pupil before. Fifteen days from the day we met, she was told to get a move on, that the transformation had to take place today. She asked me how I'd like it done, quickly at the wave of her hand, an operation, or by gentle manipulation; of course that would take a bit longer. Guess what I chose.

She held my face between the palms of her hands and kissed me goodbye. "We wont meet again, dear heart, that's to say Clarke and Helen wont meet again, but I will keep my promise to look after you in the years ahead." I tried to hold her but I couldn't move a muscle, nor could I speak. My flat door opened and two nubile lovelies, seemingly aged about 16 came in and placed cosmetic cases on the table. Helen knelt on the floor in front of me the two girls knelt behind, and six hands began to run gently over my feet and legs, all the way up to my groin without actually touching it. After a few minutes of this I felt myself grow a little taller and I had the irresistible desire to stand on tiptoe. Then three pairs of hands started on my bum, hips and tummy, the first two became rounder, my tummy flatter. Helen cupped my penis and testicles in her hands, pulled them gently and they were gone; it looked to me as if she put them in the pocket of her dress, but I don't suppose she did, not really. I felt her fingers enter my brand new vagina and that made me tingle all over; she felt around for a few moments then I saw her nod in satisfaction.

Now the two girls worked on my back while Helen massaged my chest and I could see my breasts start to grow, bigger and bigger with nipples that seemed and felt electrified. The girls worked down my arms, smoothing them and reducing the hard masculine muscles into gentle feline ones. My hands became slimmer and softer, my fingers longer as were my fingernails.

Now Helen moved onto my face while her protιgιes smoothed my neck. The Adams apple vanished then she gently kissed each ear, each eye, my nose, my mouth and my chin, my cheeks and my forehead and from the reflection in the mirror that still stood there, I could see the physical side of the change had been completed. I was nothing like Ken Clarke in drag – I simply wasn't me anymore.

Helen's two little helpers wasted no time in starting to get me dressed, garter belt, panties and a bra that needed no padding this time were quickly slipped on together with a silk teddy and a waist slip. One girl then painted my toenails while the other attended to my fingers. Helen pierced my ears, three in each lobe and then my navel, carefully fitting a gold ring on which dangled an emerald the size of an almond. As soon as my nails were dry, nylons were rolled carefully up my longer smoother legs accentuating their perfection and then shoes with a four-inch heel were placed on my feet. I was made to sit down facing the mirror as they made up my face. Those of you who have ever visited a beauty parlour will know the vast difference between doing it yourself and a really professional job, and that is just what I got.

I watched carefully as the girls worked on my higher cheekbones, my eyebrows, eyelids and eyelashes. Foundation, powder, blush were carefully applied, emphasising all my good points and finally my larger mouth with its fuller rounder lips was painted quite perfectly. Perfume completed the cosmetic side as Helen put three different length-dangling earrings into each lobe. Finally minute adjustments were made to my hairstyle and I was helped into my dress.

I looked at myself in amazement; only a few hours ago I had been Ken Clarke in drag – but for all that looking and feeling good, enjoying pretending I was a woman and enjoying the pretence. Now I really was a woman, a real woman and I absolutely loved it. I turned this way and that to study my figure, my bust and my bum – and drooled over them all. Apart from Helen I had never seen a better-looking woman in all my life, and I wanted to date myself, I really did.

Then I smiled at Helen and mouthed the words, 'thank-you' to her. She smiled back and asked if I was satisfied. "What do you think? If this has to be then I couldn't have asked for better. If I could keep you as well I'd never ask for anything else again as long as I lived."

"You know that's not possible, don't you darling? I am sorry to say we have to part now, Veronica. In a few seconds time you will be in your new home and begin to live your new life; you will be instantly aware of who you are and where you are. You wont find anything there that belonged to Clarke and you will gradually forget the man you used to be though little reminders will occur from time to time. Everything you need to know about your new life has been programmed into your sub-conscious memory, your new job, your friends, where they live – everything. It only remains for me to wish you luck and God-speed." With that she placed her hands together in front of her groin and quickly swept them up and round like a windmill. There was a momentary blackout and then I was in my new apartment where I instantly felt completely at home. And yet I knew it was all new to me.

When I started working as a cub reporter for the Planet I had to attend training school for one day every week. I remember the teacher saying you could divide people into three groups, and the first group were those who would believe anything and everything anyone old them, verbally or in print. They were a con-mans dream and his word for them was gullible.

The second group were a little more cautious and may be named sceptics, who are doubters through and through – They seek proof of everything and everything, and then want proof of the proof.

Finally we have the cynics, who are also doubters, but they disbelieve everything just for the hell of it, and I was damned at that moment to question into which category I myself belonged. I felt for the lump that should have been between my legs – it wasn't there of course and I squeezed my breasts, (pure ecstasy) to make sure they were real. I was a woman, no doubt about that and I was in a new apartment – far nicer than any I could have afforded as a reporter and yet it didn't seem real. I still thought as if I was Ken Clarke but I felt as if I was Veronica Hetherington, and I didn't know what to believe.

For the next few hours I went through a myriad of thoughts and emotions. I hadn't forgotten Helen completely, though I did forget she was a witch – to my mind she was a former girl friend, and the memories were merely romantic. I looked around my new home; on the table in the living room was an envelope containing the deeds to the property – it was mine, bought and paid for, Miss Veronica Hetherington owned property! A sheet of paper I turned over told me that my boutique traded under the name of SCRUFFS and was in the town centre and a bank statement showed what seemed to be a healthy balance. The lounge was tastefully furnished – it all looked new, and the chairs were very comfortable – 2 Parker Knoll recliners no less. The dining table was made of glass, at least the top was, and there were 8 chairs around it – perhaps that tells you how big the room was.

There were two bedrooms, both with double beds and in what was obviously the bigger of the two, the fitted wardrobes were packed with every imaginable kind of outfit, a hundred or more different dresses, drawers full of blouses and lingerie, rack upon rack of shoes – a veritable paradise island. In the kitchen was the biggest fridge freezer I'd ever seen, and it was full, and in a row of glass fronted boxes I could see all kinds of appliances – mixers, blender, coffee maker and waffle maker, even some gadgets I didn't recognise.

The bath was big enough for two – I swear it was, and it incorporated a shower and a Jacuzzi type fitting. I was going to enjoy myself here. It flashed through my mind that there was nothing in the wardrobes for a man to wear – then I was puzzled as to why I had thought there should be.

The telephone rang – I answered it immediately with my female name and actually recognised the caller's voice. It was Vickie, my senior assistant at the shop who wanted to know if they were still on for dinner tonight? My brain spun round as I tried to think what to say but my voice simply said, "Of course you are," and told her I was looking forward to it. Then I said, "Yes thank you, I am quite well again now." Lord only knows what was supposed to have been wrong with me; I presumed it was to cover the former Veronica's transition to her new life.

I prepared homemade pizza for the first time ever, I had never attempted to cook anything more challenging than a bacon sandwich before and it turned out to be excellent! The evening was a success. I discovered my wine store, several dozen assorted bottles of both red and white wine and all of them good quality.

Having already met Vickie and Diana I had no idea why I should have been nervous about going to work next day –but once I started I took it all in my stride. I helped customers try on various clothes, measured some women for fitted bra's, handled panties and nylons carefully and with aplomb, advised on styles and colours – I had the time of my life.

Three days later there was something of a sensation in the centre of the city – a reporter from the Planet said she had seen a man flying over the buildings, unaided and without wings, and although there were no photos and very few people believed her, it seems she was right as lots of others saw him too. I soon settled into my new life style, three years came and went and nothing very startling happened. Business was good, well into profit and both Vickie and Diana stayed with me, proving to be reliable employees. My social life was adequate for my needs, I had several evenings out with both male and female friends, one or two mild affairs but none of them got to my bed for the simple reason I didn't like them enough, and I could always fall back on the old excuse that I had to wash my hair if I didn't want to see them, I hadn't realised before just how handy that was. I quickly developed my feminine persona, accepted smiles from strange men and returned them when they hurried to open doors for me. On more than one occasion I thanked a good-looking stranger for standing aside so that I could take his taxi, and you all know that doesn't happen very often. From time to time I was aware of the fact that I had once been a man, little things happened to remind me, but I didn't remember who I had been. I once remember thinking one morning when I was late getting up that I'd rather be a man because they didn't have to get up so early just to fix their hair and make-up, but I didn't really mean it.

There were, of course, highs and lows and the first Tuesday in February started off as the lowest of all those lows. For starters I overslept again, this time by an hour and there was no way I'd make up that amount of time. I wasn't too concerned, Vickie was on today and she had the spare set of keys, but when I eventually arrived, she had been late too. Business that day was almost non-existent; we sold just one pair of tights all morning and a single pair of panties during the afternoon, and although we had had bad days in the past, I couldn't remember one as bad as this. Around 4.00 that afternoon I allowed Vickie to go shopping and no sooner had she gone than one of our best customers came in with her two daughters who rushed straight to the rail of new dresses, fully expecting their Mum to buy them at least one each. I was very glad to see them, most weeks she was good for a few hundred dollars and if she wanted something for herself as well then there was no limit to what she might spend.

The counter was towards the back of the shop to deter quick cash snatches and I was just asking what I could show her when I saw a man inside the front of the shop, a man who seemed to be trying to hide between the rows of dresses. My thoughts were for my customer's safety – perhaps he intended to mug her as she left!

Mrs Davies wanted something special to wear for her nephew's birthday party this very evening – a rather sudden surprise party and my mind obviously wasn't on my job because when she selected a nice enough dress, she chose a size that was obviously too small for her, I heard myself make an uncalled for sarcastic comment, something to the effect of my not being able to get my boobs into a dress that size let alone hers. Understandably she bristled with indignation, called her daughters and they left the shop without spending a cent. I was still upset when Vickie came back.

That night I got back home just before 7 and having spent several minutes searching my bag for the keys I knew were there somewhere, (they were right at the bottom), I opened my door and flopped into a chair. I relaxed, certainly, but I don't think I closed my eyes even so. Suddenly I heard a noise from over by the window, looked and to my amazement saw the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life, struggling to get through the outside wall of my apartment. Now since I am on the sixth floor you will appreciate that I was somewhat surprised. "Ouch," he said rather loudly as he finally got through. My indignation was obvious.

"What the fuck do you want – who are you, - how did you get in? Get out of here before I call the police."

He ignored me – completely and totally ignored me, and that was something new in my experience because everyone noticed me. He strutted, yes that's the right word, he strutted around my lounge inspecting the carpets and curtains as if he imagined the apartment was for sale and that he was a prospective buyer. Then, at last, he looked at me. I mean he REALLY looked at me. His face lit up, he smiled appreciatively as his eyes travelled slowly down from the top of my head to my feet and then back again. I could feel him stripping me of every item of clothing I had on and do you know something – I didn't mind one little bit. He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Finally, holding out his right hand (which, of course, I ignored), and smiling like a cat that had got the cream he spoke in a rich sexy tone. "Good evening, my name is Leonard Franklin, er the late Leonard Franklin I suppose I should say. Who might you be?

"I might be Princess Grace but I'm not," I said, trying to sound snappy and failing miserably. "My name is Hetherington, Veronica Hetherington, and it's Miss." Suddenly I became a little frightened as I remembered what he'd said. "Did you say you were the late Leonard Franklin? Y- yo - you can't be – that would mean you are dead and if you are dead then you must be a ghost. I don't believe in ghosts," I added pompously. "What are you doing here?"

"You ask too many questions, has no one ever told you that?" (Where had I heard that remark before?). "Yes, I did say I was the late Leonard Franklin and yes I am a ghost. I am here looking for Madeleine." He was still holding out his hand for me to shake, and as he was so handsome I went to accept it but suddenly drew back.

"If you are a ghost then you are not really here, are you? And if you're not here, how can I shake your hand?"

"Oh I'm here all right, go on, take my hand, then you will know I'm here." I took his proffered hand to shake it – he had a solid dry grip as he held on to mine as if he were frightened I'd run away.

"If you are a ghost, how come you hurt yourself when you came through that wall?" I asked, "and just who is Madeleine?

He tutted, crossly. "There is more than one kind of ghost you know; I am the kind that manifests as I pass through masonry. The concrete is no problem it's those damned iron bars they reinforce it with, besides I've only just come out of the training school on works experience so I'm not very good at anything yet. Madeleine is my aunt, she owns this apartment."

"A-ha!" I proclaimed, poking his chest with the forefinger of my left hand, (he was still holding my right hand and I could think of no good reason to make him let it go.) "Now I've caught you Mr Ghost. I own this flat and I have the title deeds to prove it. Try again, buster." For all my bravado he was starting to get to me. His eyes were burning their way into my very being – I felt he was looking at me as if I were an enormous juicy steak he was about to devour rare – and all I could do was wonder if he wanted some mustard.

He shook his head sorrowfully, obviously thinking I was a complete idiot. "If you are a ghost," I said, "prove it."

"How?"

"Well I don't know, you're supposed to be the ghost. Do something ghostlike."

"Such as?"

"Make that pot move from the television to the table," I said.

"It's poltergeists who move things about." His face brightened suddenly, "If you lend me a sheet I can float about the room moaning," he said, "but I can do this." In the blink of an eye he vanished, appearing instantly on a dining chair by the table – and then he moved to my other easy chair. "I can go backwards and forwards through time," he said, "not very far and only for short periods – I've not graduated yet."

Really! As if! Being a ghost was one thing – time travel was another. Suddenly I noticed a lump forming on his forehead. I suggested I should bathe it, that he sat down while I fetched some warm water. He purred contentedly and asked if I was a nurse. I told him how I earned my living.

"You look very worried, Veronica – You don't mind me calling you Veronica do you, then you can call me Leonard."

I told him of the days problems, of how I had upset one of my best customers and I didn't know what to do about it. "That's easily put right; I know you didn't believe me when I said it just now, but one of my best subjects at the training school was time travel, what time did it happen?"

"Just after four this afternoon."

"Oh well then, that's no problem. Come on," he said, positively, taking me hand in his once more. No sooner had he done so that we were back in my shop – the time was ten to four and Vickie was about to go shopping. At four, Mrs Davies and her daughters came in, just as they had done earlier and she asked about exactly the same dress – the one that was too small. I agreed it was delightful but added, "Not that one, Mrs Davies, it has a mark on the collar. I have another out back I'll fetch for you now." As I brought a larger version of the dress from the storeroom I deftly removed the size tag and put it in my pocket. The dress fitted perfectly and so she bought it – and one each for her daughters and happily left the shop saying, "See you next week Miss Hetherington." As she left the shop, Leonard took my hand and we were instantly back in my apartment where my friendly ghost assured me that no one would ever know about my transgression – that we really had been back in time and re-lived those few minutes, that nobody would ever know what had really happened – it had all been put right and it was our secret!

I wasn't sure whether or not to believe it – surely I was imagining things, surely this man wasn't really a ghost. Feeling very ill at ease I took a large glass from my china cabinet poured myself a scotch and took a stiff drink. Leonard coughed and looked at me pointedly, clearly suggesting that he'd like one too. I duly obliged, apologising for my omission. He thanked me and downed it in one.

"It's time for me to go," he said, "I must try to find Madeleine, she is organising a birthday party for me, one I'm not supposed to know anything about. I want to see you again, Veronica, may I?" I nodded, trying not to look too eager. Suddenly he pulled me into his arms and kissed my mouth more thoroughly than I had ever been kissed before – as far as I could remember. His tongue almost touched the back of my throat, it was much longer than any other man I knew and played havoc with my senses. When the kiss stopped several minutes later, he left the apartment the same way he came in – through the wall, and I collapsed back into my chair.

I remained seated for several minutes, eyes closed, totally confused and unable to tell day from night – not at that precise moment anyway. Suddenly I came to my senses – or what passed for them in the state I was in. Had all that really happened? Had Leonard enabled me to rectify the clanger I had dropped this afternoon? Had he kissed me like WOW? Had he come and gone through the wall? It all sounded too ridiculous for words and yet, if it was a dream then it was the most realistic dream I'd ever known. THAT WAS IT! I had been dreaming. I looked at the clock – I had been home from work for almost two hours. Feeling absolutely foolish I got up and went over to the wall by the window to see if it was damaged at all. It wasn't, of course.

It had been a dream – it must have been a dream, and yet I could still feel his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth. I didn't want that part to be a dream; I wanted more kisses like that one. Common sense insisted that it MUST have been a dream, it MUST have. I fingered my lips; they seemed tender so I went to examine them in the mirror. My lipstick was severely smudged, so it looked like I'd been kissed but why wasn't I sure? It had to have been a dream, ghosts don't exist, of course they don't. I dismissed the matter from my mind – or at least I tried to and started to tidy up before going to bed beginning by taking the two whisky glasses into the kitchen. TWO WHISKY GLASSES? I examined them carefully – only one had traces of my lipstick on the rim. Oh my Lord, someone had been here in the apartment with me.

I went to bed not expecting to sleep – but I must have done because morning arrived so quickly. For once I awoke early enough not to have to hurry and promptly wished I hadn't because all I could think of was Leonard kissing me. It was impossible – it had all been a dream, of course it had.

Later, in the shop, I told Vickie about my dream, of how a ghost had brought me back to rectify my rudeness and she looked at me as if I was insane. "Yesterday's takings were not all that bad," she said, "thanks to Mrs Davies spending nearly three hundred dollars late in the day. I didn't believe her, but there was her check signed Madeleine Davies already on the bank slip waiting to be deposited. Nothing made sense, I had been rude to her, she had quite rightly stormed out, I'd have done the same and I was so sure of my facts. But then I remembered Leonard saying that only he and I would ever know what had really happened. And what about the name – the woman's name? Madeleine Davies. Madeline was Leonard's aunt; he'd been looking for her; was that just a coincidence? Later that morning, Mrs Davies came into the shop, alone this time and she thanked me for my help yesterday afternoon in choosing that delightful dress. I hadn't helped – I'd been rude to her. But then my tired mind remembered once more what Leonard had said. She thanked me for my help, said she knew of my little trick removing the label to spare her feelings. I dared not try to stop her as she nattered on about the special occasion for which she had wanted that dress – her nephews' 30^th birthday.

Leonard had been going to a surprise birthday party at his aunt Madeleine's house. Oh my God, it was the same man. Vaguely I heard her say that he fancied himself as a magician, that some of the illusions he performed were really quite amazing. "Have you not seen him, Miss Hetherington? He is here somewhere, he came in with me." She looked around for him and then, all of a sudden he appeared between two racks of dresses, just as if he had walked through the wall. "Oh here he is; where have you been Leonard. Miss Hetherington, may I introduce my nephew – he tells me he's been dying to meet you."

Leonard took me to dinner that night; he ordered for me and he chose exactly what I'd have picked for myself. That night he became the first man I ever took to my bed; it was everything I expected, and more! He placed his penis in my hand and asked me if I recognised the feel of it; I was shocked at first and asked him what he meant by that.

In a female voice he answered, "You ask too many questions Clarke, I've told you that before."

There was a blinding flash of realisation.

"Helen?" I stammered, "Is that you? Is that really you?"

"You shouldn't need to ask things like that my darling - I promised I'd always look after you, didn't I? When I thought about your suggestion that I change into a Warlock, it made so much sense I decided to do it."

"Are you going to live here with me?" I enquired eagerly.

"Better than that, we are getting married because you are going to have a baby, our baby. I can pop off and do my work whenever I need to, just like any other doting husband."

"Have you made me pregnant already?"

"Certainly not – we must be married first and in any case I need a little practice before I do – I was a woman until the day before yesterday, in case you didn't realise.

"Will our baby be a witch – or a warlock?"

"I'm not sure – no member of W.A.W.A has ever married a mortal before, it's possible, maybe even probable that the Grand Wizard will even turn you into a witch – just to be sure. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

"Not so long as we can be together."

"Ah, yes, that's another benefit of changing – Witches and Warlocks live for hundreds of years – in human terms. You are in for a very long ride, my poppet, a journey of delight that will last forever.

I wondered just how long that meant but I daren't ask, I'd asked too many questions already.

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Donna Dee. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all  articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.