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» » To Live Anothers Life Part 1 « «
By Anonymous Author
Chapter One :
He stirred in his sleep and thought he heard a baby cry. It was a dream. His children were grown and gone. He was alone in this big old house. His wife had left him long ago. He hadn't brought anyone home with him from the bar - or had he? Too many drinks. He thought perhaps there had been a woman. He reached across the bed - the other side was empty. There had been a woman... and a bad conversation. She had left shortly after coming here, he thought. Too many one night stands. Too many nights of telling his sob stories to get their sympathy - so that they would follow him home. Too many lies. He dozed. There was that cry again - it grew louder and continued. He told himself to ignore it. It was a dream. Or a cat outside. Or a baby next door.
There was a odd sensation in his chest. Warmth moving down. The warmth grew as the baby continued to cry. The feeling needed rubbing or something. He reached up and found the corner of what he thought was a pillow under the blanket before him. There was a wetness. Untangling the blanket brought him fully awake. He was frightened. His chest had breasts. They seemed incredibly large. He sat up. What had happened to him? This was too real to be a dream. He was trembling.
The baby was still crying. His swollen nipples were leaking. He rubbed his face and his eyes. He had to wake up from this. This couldn't be happening. There were still there -and the baby was still crying. He felt the breasts. They were heavy and hard. They ached. He had to get up - deal with the noise. He couldn't think. What was he going to do.
Climbing out of bed was awkward. He was off balance. When he leaned to steady himself against the dresser, a mass of hair swung over his shoulder. Everything was out of kilter. He was nude. He never slept in the nude. His hips, his waist - everything seemed to be in a different place. The room and all the furniture seemed larger. He felt like he was going crazy. Or was flying on some kind of dope high he had never felt before. The baby was still crying.
He followed the noise. This wasn't his house at all. The dimly lighted hallway wasn't his and it led to a room he had never seen before. Had he gone to that woman's house instead of his own? He had entered a nursery. A crib stood against the far wall. The baby in it was bawling like it had been deserted for an eternity. Where was its mother? He couldn't just leave it. The crying was driving him nuts. He couldn't think. Reaching in, he scooped it up. It grew a bit calmer as he held it against his neck and tried to figure out what to do next. Maybe the woman was in the house somewhere. She might have had too much to drink - she might be passed out somewhere.
"There, there," he muttered to the child. It was fussing, trying to dig itself into his shoulder. He carried it out and found a living room. Then a kitchen. He searched the rest of the rooms. There wasn't anyone to be found in the entire house. Everything was neat and tidy and silent and dark. He was afraid to turn on the lights. He didn't want a good look at himself. He would go mad. As he moved through the rooms, he felt the breasts sway, his hips moving in an odd way and the hair fall against the small of his back and his rump. It had to be some kind of weird drug or hypnotism or maybe he had flipped out and was really strapped down in a hospital. It had to be a dream. The baby was whimpering in his ear. It would be crying again soon.
He carried it back to the living room and found a comforter on the couch. He was shivering by this time. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he sat down. The baby began to cry in ernest again. He rocked it, but he knew that wouldn't satisfy it. His nipples were tingling. Sighing, he nestled it in his lap and tried bringing a breast to its mouth. He didn't know what he was doing. The baby screamed angrily. He thought someone was sure to walk in on him any second and yell at him for what he was trying to do. This was wrong. He tried again and finally the baby figured it out for him and attached itself and sucked. The warmth flushed through his chest.
They sat there for some time. The sucking seemed to calm him. He relaxed. He had to think this through. Somehow he had ended up here, changed beyond belief. There had to be some kind of weird explanation. After a while, the breast emptied and he moved the baby to the other side. It fussed a bit, but the second time of getting it to suck was easier.
Chapter Two :
He and the baby dozed. His dreams were wild and maddening. He was being made love to by a creature or person he couldn't see. All was dark. He awakened, startled by the nightmare and the stirring in his groin. He no longer had a penis.. Embarrassed by the closeness of the child at his breast, he drew the comforter across his lap under the baby. The slight groin sensation subsided. He gently pulled the baby from his nipple and got up to carry it back to the crib. It didn't wake up when he put it down and covered it. Now what? It would probably wake up in a couple of hours. Maybe by then someone would show up to claim it. Or better yet, someone would show up to explain all this. None of it made sense.
He returned to the bedroom he had awakened in earlier. He knew he would have to really face whatever had happened to him. Holding his breath, he turned on the overhead light. At first, he thought he was looking at a strange woman on the other side of the room. He almost spoke to her - and then he realized it was his own reflection. A large mirror sat atop the dresser on the opposite side of the bed. He was trembling. Where was he in this person? She looked twenty years old. Last night he had been fifty-three. She was short, and although it was difficult to tell in strange surroundings, she couldn't be taller than five feet. He was six two. Or had been. She was pretty. With freckles and thick blonde hair down her back. Large breasts, slightly thick at the waist and a full rear end. He now had a definite feminine vagina which was fixed atop a slight pubic mound!!!! This was small and the public hair was almost golden. He drew the comforter around him to cover himself and moved closer. Nothing was changing. He looked closely at his face and felt it and stared at the eyes looking back at him. He couldn't even recognize his own eyes.
What was he going to do? He turned away, suddenly very tired and feeling quite shakey. Light was seeping in through the drawn blinds beside him and he almost peeked out to see where he was, but he was too afraid. At least the inside of the house or apartment looked normal. What if the outside had been changed as much he was? He felt sweaty and disheveled. Reaching at the back of his neck, he pulled the hair over his shoulder. It fell heavily down over his chest. This was too much. It was dirty and tangled. He could cut it off - surely there were scissors somewhere. How could anyone take care of this mess?
He went to the bathroom and rifled the drawers and medicine cabinet. No scissors, not even a pair of fingernail clippers. He could use those as well. His nails were long and it was difficult to go through the drawers without hurting himself. This was a woman's house. There were only cosmetics with the toothpaste and deodorant. No serious razors. He would have to check the kitchen later. The shower looked inviting, so he laid aside the comforter and climbed in. At least he could wash the hair. He discovered it was a long drawn out process - of getting shampoo through all of it and then rinsing it. Combing it out afterward took even longer. He ended up sitting on the toilet seat, his head down and the long locks falling before him down to the floor.
Chapter Three :
The sensations of this body were strange. In the shower, he had soaped and had become partially aroused. His flesh was soft and almost rubbery. Completely hairless except for the pubic hair. He would have been aroused by being near a woman that looked the way he looked now. Touching her would have made him hard instantly. Now the thought only caused a wetness in the pussy as it lubricated for the entry of a cock. Washing had been a little scarey - who was he touching? He had held his breasts up to rinse the soap from beneath them and had the impression of someone else standing behind him, doing the lifting - as if his hands were a man's. His imagined hands? The way you would handle a woman from behind as you kissed her neck?
Now, sitting on the toilet seat, the same odd awareness returned. His wide hips seemed to saddle him on the furry cover. It was as if he had never really sat down before - he felt based. Bending over beneath the curtain of wet hair, his breasts hanging - swaying - with his attempts to untangle the mass, struck him as an incredibly sexy pose. A real woman wouldn't think like this. Who was he posing for?
He had to remember what had happened to him. Last night, he had been restless after work and had decided not to go home right away. There was nothing there anyway. He had gone to dinner alone and then to a kinky nightclub in Hollywood. The place had fascinated him. The crowd was mostly S&Mers and transvestites - all sorts of leather and strange outfits. It had been an adventure from the straight-laced business world he normally lived in. He was a banker downtown. A good one. There had been a woman at the bar. She had been gorgeous in a dark hard sort of way. They talked. He remembered that he was cautious at first - uncertain if he were talking to an actual woman or a very good looking transvestite. At some point he was convinced she was real. He couldn't recall exactly when it happened, if it was simply her mannerisms or some small detail of what she was talking about. She was a commerical artist. Doing stain-glass sculptures or something. They had left together. As he followed her toward her car, the fears had returned. She seemed a bit angular, although her hips were certainly round enough. She was almost his height, without the short heels she was probably five ten or eleven. Her hair was short - in one of those boy haircuts. She turned at her car before opening the door. He was wondering how he could get out of this gracefully.
"Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he had asked.
She kissed him. It was a woman. She had held up her car keys.
"You drive," she had told him.
They had gone to her place. Or at least were heading there. After they had pulled out of the parking lot, she had leaned in his direction and began massaging the crotch of his pants. He remembered the hardness she had created and the slow movement of her fingernails as she drew down his zipper. Then nothing.
Had he blacked out? He had been driving - it seemed impossible that he could have lost conciousness and not gotten into an accident. He couldn't recall drinking too much. The whole evening had been real, hadn't it? Any explanation of this was too crazy to be believed. He had a life - you just don't wake in someone else's.
Work! He suddenly remembered he had a meeting at 8:30 with the board to go over the new tower plans. He had to call. He couldn't show up like this- they would have him locked away as a crazy woman. He could at least buy some time - until he figured out how to get back to the way he was. He got up, held his hair up and let it drop behind and wrapped a towel around himself. He caught himself as he tucked the corner in under his arm. This is the way women wrap themselves in a towel. He hadn't even thought about it. This shouldn't be so natural.
Chapter Four :
He went to phone in the bedroom and dialed his office. He got the voicemail. It must still be early. He punched in his secretary's extension and after her cheery message (that he had heard fifty times before) the beep sounded.
"Hi Mary, this is Steve...(God - his voice! He sounded like a little girl!) Oh, sorry...I meant...this is Steve's sister. He asked me to call and let you know that he has a family emergency...He wanted me to ask you to reschedule the board meeting for next week. He wanted to leave you a number where you could leave messages for him...(There was an answering machine - but the phone didn't have the number on it.)...Well, I can't seem to find the number right now - sorry. There's been a death in our family. I'm sure he'll call you."
He hung up quickly, feeling like a first class fool. He hadn't even sounded coherent. Calling back would only make it sound a bit more crazed than it already was. At least he would have some time to figure this out. He had dialed without the area code and it had connected - so he was still in the city somewhere.
He looked around. He should get dressed, but there was no sign of his clothing. Checking the closet, he half expected to find his suit hanging neatly in one corner. Nothing. Just skirts and blouses and some sweaters and lots of dresses. He rifled through the hangers. This was weird. There was no pants at all - not even a pair of jeans. The woman who lived here must have a strange trip going on. He checked the bureau. Every woman owned shorts. There were underwear, nylons and nightgowns. No shorts or even a bathing suit. He took out a couple of the nightgowns, thinking that there must be something like a flannel nightshirt, but they were all skimpy lacey things - like the stuff he would buy a girl friend for her birthday or christmas. He put them back. So what was he going to wear? He didn't want to be standing here in a towel if somebody showed up.
Ok. He took out a pair of panties and held them up to figure out which was the front and pulled them on. They felt nice actually - soft and smooth against his skin. The elastic band of the waist was a bit disconcerting so high up, but they seemed to fit. He had a quick sensation of being one of those nerds in high school that wore their pants buckled at their navels. Well, if he had no choice other than a skirt, at least he could pick one that wasn't absurdly feminine. He took a long denim number out of the closet and pulled it on. It was a bit snug. After buckling the belt on it, he turned to look at himself. He seemed to be all butt. It was tight waisted and after expanding over his curves, tapered again. It appeared to be the right length: mid-calf. He wished he had paid more attention to women's fashions. He tried to recall how long his secretary's skirts were, but couldn't picture her legs. She was always sitting down. What a strange body image women had of themselves, he thought. They dress like this on purpose, to emphasize their attractiveness. As a man, he would have found the woman in the reflection sexy, but from the inside, now, the obvious rear end was embarrassing. He had a whole lifetime of trying to make his backside nondescript. This would take some getting used to.
He needed a shirt. As he searched for something plain looking, it occurred to him that he might need to feed the baby again if he couldn't find anything else to give it, so he looked for something that would button up the front. The sweaters were out. He found a white blouse that wasn't too frilly and fumbled with the buttons and tucked it in. The mirror wasn't particularly kind. This wasn't going to work. His nipples were clearly outlined by the sheer fabric and when he tried to pull it out a bit - to make it looser - he began to leak.
He pulled it off. He had wanted to avoid the bras, but knew he didn't have much choice. If he wanted to get out of here, he couldn't very well go running down the street as a wet t-shirt contestant. He had noticed some nursing pads in a box in the bathroom. He went back to the underwear drawer. He couldn't quite bring himself to look through them. He wanted to, but thought it too sick - he was stealing some woman's clothes as it was - to be interested in what they looked like seemed a bit like smelling someone's underwear for kicks. The one he took turned out to be a nursing bra. Putting it on was another question. He recalled a girl friend in college that would put her's on backwards to hook it in front and then pull it around. He ended up back in front of the mirror anyway - this was a bit of work with your breasts hanging in the way. It turned out not to be so difficult. He pulled it around and put his arms through the straps. He adjusted the cups over his new flesh.
It fit. This was getting stranger and stranger. He remembered his ex-wife's endless search for the perfect bra - according to her nothing fit right. He had to think this whole thing was a set-up. All the clothing fits. Whoever did this to him, knew he would be here getting dressed. Shaking his head, he went to the bathroom for the nursing pads. Afterwards, he picked out a loose poet looking blouse and went back to the mirror one last time. The breasts and rump and hair were still too much to seriously consider, but at least he was covered.
Chapter five :
The baby was awake. It was whimpering - not really crying yet. He went back to the nursery. It was lying on its back, uncovered. When he bent over the crib to pick it up, it seemed to recognize him. It smiled.
"Hello," he said.
It reached for his face when he had it in his arms. Its bottom was heavy and he realized it needed changing. Searching about, he found the diapers and wipes. There wasn't a changing table, so he got down on the floor. The skirt was difficult to get down in - it was a little too tight around his legs. He'd have to find something later. His hands were trembling. He had never changed a diaper. Fumbling with the snaps on the baby's outfit, and then with the adhesive strips on the diaper, he finally removed the soaked diaper. It was a little girl.
Holding her in place as she wiggled while trying to position a fresh diaper under her wasn't made any easier by his fingernails. He was afraid he was going to scratch her. These were dangerous. He finished and picked her up and then with difficulty got back to his feet by grabbing the doorknob.
"You hungry?" he asked her.
He went into the kitchen. She wasn't fussing, but he didn't expect her to last very long. He went through the cupboards and the drawers, then the refrigerator. Nothing for a baby. No formula, no baby food. Was she old enough for baby food? There wasn't a pair of scissors to be found either. Also no sharp knives. Whoever did this to him - did they think he would try to kill himself?
"Well, it looks like you're stuck with me, kiddo."
He went out to the living room. The dark room was adding to his feeling that he was trapped. He went around and pulled up all the shades to let the light in. It was a bright sunny morning. He tried the front door, half-expecting it to be locked in some mysterious way that wouldn't allow him to unlock it. The deadbolt turned and the latch worked. It opened easily. There was a normal looking screen door and a porch beyond. He stepped outside and looked at the small front yard. He was on the westside somewhere - near the beach. The street was lined with small cottages and palm trees. No one was about except for one man down the street a few houses away. There was traffic noises from what he thought had to be the next block over.
The baby had his hair. He disengaged her hand gingerly and shook his head back. He would have to figure that out too. There had to be something to hold it back. It was beginning to dry and fall forward. Her hands were quick. He carried her back in and settled on the couch. Unbuttoning and unsnapping himself, he offered her the nipple and soon had her latched on after some manuvering. This was beginning to hurt. He didn't want to pull her away - she would surely start to cry - but he was tempted. Women put up with this to breastfeed? He tried looking out the window at the street- thinking himself somewhere else. He could do it, he told himself.
As he sat there, the man he had seen earlier came up the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. When he came even with the front window he stopped. Steve had expected him to stroll on by. He had looked like someone just out for a leasurely walk. Maybe he was looking at the tree in the front yard here or admiring the flowering shrubs along the front fence. He would lose interest and go on. But he didn't. He remained standing exactly where he was. Could he see in? Was he watching me feed the baby? The guy looked normal enough - short blonde hair and clean cut. Steve wanted to jump up and pull down the shade and close the front door, but didn't know how the unhook the child without making her upset. He doubted whether he could really see through the screen on the window. It was dark inside. Even if he could see in a liitle - what was he getting a glimpse of? A bit of boob covered by bra and baby? Whatever the guy thought he was doing - Steve didn't like it. He felt exposed.
The baby finally came away gurgling. He picked her up and went to the window. The guy still hadn't moved. Steve closed and locked the door again and then drew down the shade. His shoulder was wet. The baby had just spit up.
Chapter Six :
He was on his way to the bathroom to clean himself up - the sleeve and shoulder of his blouse was a gooey mess - when there was a crash from outside at the rear of the house. He jumped and froze in mid-step. The baby looked frightened. He held her close and peeked around from the hallway toward the kitchen. Buttoning the blouse, he tiptoed cautiously to the back door. In the small back yard a trash can was laying on its side, its contents strewn across the grass. A cat was sniffing aa piece of paper at the edge of the trash. Steve sighed and after looking around just to be on the safe side, he went back to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Back on the couch, the cloth of the blouse wet against his skin, he fed the baby from the other breast and hoped it would put her back to sleep. Her eyes were wide open though. This side didn't hurt as much, but he knew it probably would with repeated feedings. The mother had to show up. He just hoped he didn't get caught with the breast in the baby's mouth when someone did walk in. The real mother would kill him. As he sat there, he began the feel the urge for a cigarette, and he suddenly realized that he hadn't ever smoked before ! This was crazy!. When the baby finished, he buttoned up and took her with him to do a search of the house for tobacco. There wasn't any to be found. It occured to him that he if he found some money, he could probably walk somewhere nearby to buy some. But there didn't seem to be any change laying around either. In the course of his search, he had stopped in the bathroom to replace the nursing pads in his bra, which was a trick in itself with a baby on your hip. On the bedroom dresser, he found a banana hairclip and put the baby down on the floor for a moment so that he could put it in his hair. He guessed he had put it on the right way. It looked good. The hair was swept up loosely - high on the back of his head. He looked at his face again. Was he beginning to enjoy this? The clip felt a bit funny - but then so did everything else. It seemed artiface in a way - as if the clothing and hair were creating and constraining all at
once. He imagined that if he were really a woman and had always been one, this stuff would seem quite natural.
With the baby on his hip, he started back out to the living room. On the dining room hutch, stuck sideways next to a potted plant, was a purse. He hadn't noticed it before. It was hidden from view if you were walking the other direction. He picked it up and carried it into the living room. He put the baby on the floor and sat down beside her. He would have to get another skirt - this one was impossible for getting up and down this way. There should be some money here. He found the wallet. There were a couple of twenties inside. He took out one bill and was about to put the wallet away when he noticed the driver's license. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. He removed it from the plastic pocket. It was him! Or at least, the person he was now. The name on it read: Sandra McGregor. Age: 24. It was him. What the hell was happening?
Chapter Seven :
Looking at the photo on the driver's license was maddening. For a moment, he was questioning his sanity. What if he really was this person- this was his house - his child? He would surely remember something of this girl's life if that was true. How could you have a baby and not remember? He had family as Steve - a childhood - fifty years of memories. This was like some bad Sci-Fi movie or an episode from Twight Zone. You just don't wake up in somebody else's life. If he was here - then what had happened to the person that was Sandra?
He was trembling as he pulled himself up from the floor. He had to get out of here - get some fresh air - think this out. Get a cigarette. He went to the front window and peeked out to see if the guy was still standing across the street. There wasn't a soul around. There was a stroller in the corner. He guessed there were keys in the purse. There were. Scooping the baby up, he went into the bedroom for some shoes. He knew now that they would fit. They were all lined up on a rack in the bottom of the closet. He looked through them. Not a pair of flats to be found. He picked the lowest heels he could find and slipped them on. The leather against his feet felt funny and he thought of the nylons in the drawer, but dismissed the notion- damn if he would struggle with that right now. He felt a bit wobbly walking- having a point holding your heels up wasn't the most secure sensation. If he walked slowly, it was all right. If nothing else, he could use the stroller to keep his balance. These were only about an inch high - how did women do this?
He returned to the living room carefully. He certainly didn't want to fall with the child in his arms. Fumbling with the stroller, he finally got it open and seemingly locked so that it would fold up again after she was in it. He belted her in and then panicked. What if she threw up or needed her diaper changed? He loaded the stroller's basket with diapers and wipes and a couple of small towels. He had decided the take the purse.
Getting out the door with the thing was not too tramatic, except for the purse, which slipped off his shoulder when he bent to tip the wheels over the threshold. He locked the door. The purse fell a second time when he tried to manuever the stroller off the porch. He folded the strap and put it under the towels in the basket.
He let himself out the gate. This was scarey. He felt like he was going out into public in drag - or in the nude. Everyone would know somehow that he wasn't what he seemed. He could imagine people staring - or stopping to point. They would laugh at the way he walkedor at his clumsiness. He took a deep breath. The only flaw was his soul - which was currently residing in the body of a woman.. He tried to look at the front of his skirt, but found he couldn't see it standing upright. A hand to his bosom and a stretch reassured him there was no bulge there. No wonder women didn't stand up at urinals - they couldn't see anything.
Where should he go? The traffic noise seemed to come from the end of the alley almost directly across the street. He started out in that direction. He was proud of himself for navigating the street so easily. There was difficulty in walking once he entered the alley. The thin layer of small gravel made the heels seem to slip sideways with each step. The baby seemed happy enough. He stopped to raise the canopy to keep her face out of the sun. The was a breeze, but it was warm. His hair whipped about a little against the clip on the back of his head.
When he reached the cross alley, he spotted the blonde guy standing just around the corner of a garage, waiting.
Chapter Eight :
Steve stopped. The blonde guy seemed a bit surprised, but recovered quickly. He took a step toward Steve and the stroller.
"Do I know you!?" Steve almost shouted. (The damned little girl voice only sounded frightened - he certainly wasn't going to intimidate anyone.)
The guy looked pained at his question.
"You have my baby," he said.
Steve almost jumped. He understood immediately - this guy wasn't the father - it was who ever used to inhabit the body he now had. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.
"Stay away from me!" Steve yelled.
Something wasn't right. He could feel the violence in the way the guy waited. The man's fists were clenched. He was having trouble making words come out of his mouth. He stood as if there was an invisible yoke across his shoulders, bearing down on the back of his neck. Steve started ahead with the stroller again. He had to get past the guy - ahead of him toward the other end of the alley.
"She won't let you keep her!" the man blurted. "She'll take everything away!"
He was following him. Damn! The heels and the confining skirt made him feel like he was trying to run up a hill in three feet of mud. He slipped with each step. There was no way he could run. He glanced over his shoulder. The guy wasn't getting any closer, but he wasn't stopping. It made Steve feel as if the guy was purposely taking his time like a cat might stalk a mouse.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled.
"You can't have her, you bitch! I'll kill you!"
Steve felt close to tears. Any second a hand would grab him from behind. He scurried on toward the end of the alley, repeatedly looking back. The guy was still coming. A woman appeared up ahead, crossing the opening on the street beyond. He could hear the guy running across the gravel. Steve stopped, bent down, scooped up a handful of rocks and turned to face the bastard. He was gone!
Trembling, Steve dropped his stones, and quickly pushed the stroller ahead. The woman up ahead of him had stopped and seemed to be waiting for him. He was too upset to look at her when he reached the street. He turned the stroller sharply, to head off down the sidewalk away from her. What could he possibly say to her?
"Are you all right, miss?"
He looked up. He had immediately wanted to look behind him to see who she was addressing, but he stopped himself. She seemed kindly enough. She was in her late forties or early fifties - graying hair up on her head in braids. Not unattractive looking. Her eyes made him hesitate. They were intelligent - almost wise.
"I guess so," he heard himself say.
"He got scared off," she offered.
He looked back once more.
"He saw you, I guess."
"I'm all right - really," he said. "The price to pay for a pack of cigarettes."
"Such a pretty baby," she said, bending down for a closer look.
"Thanks." (How were you supposed to respond?)
"Would you like to bum one of mine?" she asked. She was holding out a pack she had retreived from her pocket.
He accepted one, but found it difficult to hold it steady enough for her to light it. She held his hand still with her own.
"Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?" she asked. "I've got to open my shop, why don't you walk along with me and I'll give you a cup of tea. I could use the company."
"I...all right." He wasn't sure why he accepted. He knew he would get in trouble if he had to carry on any kind of conversation. But this was better than trying to go back to that house.
Chapter Nine :
As Steve walked with the woman down the street, the thought struck him that if he was the real mother of the baby he might have acted exactly the same way the blonde guy had acted. Someone had stolen his life as well. So why hadn't he handed the baby over? Why hadn't he tried to talk to the guy- so he could figure this out? There was something seriously wrong with the guy - it was not anything you could finger immediately. Recognizing him as Sandra had been like suddenly discovering your sister's face on a psychotic bum talking to himself in the reflection of a store window. Madness was something you could see, but not neccessarily define unless it was real blatant. He had also been more frightened than he could ever remember. How are you supposed to defend yourself if you are a foot shorter than the whole world and too fluffy? This body had no muscle at all.
"Maybe its none of my business, but did you know that man?" the woman asked him.
"No. He was hanging around outside the house this morning. I don't think I've ever seen him before. Why?"
"No reason. I've seen him in the neighborhood a few times, but it was a while ago. He used to walk in the evenings with a dark-haired woman."
"Then I used to see you walking in the evenings with a dark-haired man when you were pregnant."
Steve didn't know how to answer that comment. Who was the man she had seen him (or Sandra) with?
They had reached her shop. It was a jewelry store. The woman unlocked the front door, flipped the hanging sign on the inside of the glass so that it read open and preceeded him inside. He manuevered the stroller over the threshold carefully, so as not to wake the baby. He was still amazed that she had slept right through his rush down the alley and the yelling.
The shop was cold inside. The woman went toward the back and after a moment, the lights came on and he could hear the faint hum of a heater fan. The shop was crowded with glass cases and here and there a large mirror was hung for the customers' use. The jewelry all looked custom made and expensive. Mostly earrings and necklaces.
"Do you make these yourself?" he asked.
The woman smiled.
"You don't remember talking to me before, do you?"
Steve could feel himself turning red.
"No, I guess I don't," he said.
"We were friends. You were having problems."
"Do I look different?" he asked.
"Would you like orange or lemon tea?"
"Lemon, I guess."
She turned and disappeared into a back room. He should leave right now, he told himself. She would starting asking questions that he wouldn't have answers for. He didn't want anyone to think that he was crazy. He'd be locked up for sure.
The baby was waking up. Damn, he thought. Not now. She began to cry. He unbuckled her and picked her up. He would have to nurse her. He couldn't go now - he had no idea where he could take her to feed her. He couldn't go back to the house. He found a couch in a corner and unbuttoned. She latched on right away. He grimaced with the pain in his nipple.
The woman came out shortly with the steaming tea. She carried them over and sat his within his reach on a glass shelf.
"Would you like honey or cream in yours?" she asked.
"No, its fine."
"You having problems?" she asked.
He wasn't sure what she was asking.
"Well, nothing other than some strange man harrassing me."
"I meant with the nursing."
"Oh. Well...Is it supposed to hurt this much?"
"Take her off."
Steve pulled the baby away gently. She cried. The woman showed him how to make the baby take more into her mouth. And then how to hold the flesh back from her nose so she could breathe.
"You weren't getting her latched on all the way, is all. She won't choke on you. The milk maybe. Just pull her off if its not right. She'll get the hang of it quick."
This way didn't hurt.
"Thank you," he said. "I thought it was supposed to hurt."
"Most women today didn't get to watch to see how their mothers did it because their mothers didn't breastfeed. Would you like a pillow?"
"So, you going to tell me who you are?" the woman asked.
Chapter Ten :
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth," Steve said to her.
"You used to be a man," she replied as she sipped her tea. "Or at least someone that isn't used to being you."
"Its that obvious?"
"You wobble on those heels. How old were you?"
"Old enough to remember seeing Elvis on Ed Sullivan."
"You're my age?...My, my."
"Tell me about Sandra," he said.
"She tried too hard - she was afraid of being herself. She talked a lot about killing herself and the baby. I tried to get her to go get help, but she would only shake her head. Eventually, she quit coming around. I think she was embarrassed by what I knew."
"I don't believe we're having this conversation," he said. "I don't believe I'm here. Don't you question this? Do you know how I got here?"
"No I don't know why you are in the body you're in. There are a lot of things that I don't understand, but they are real just the same."
She looked at him.
"Talk to your husband," she said softly.
"I want to give you something. Will you accept a gift from me?
Steve was still trying to digest the husband idea.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Sarah. Some think I'm the good witch." She smiled.
"You're kidding, right?"
She just continued to smile - a lot like the Cheshire Cat. Getting up, she went behind one of the counters, took something out of a lower shelf and returned. She held out a small white box to him.
"Will you accept these - as a gesture of friendship?" she asked.
She opened the box for him since he was still feeding the baby. Inside was a pair of large dangly earrings - they were very ornatethey were obviously antique.
"Well, I don't know if I could wear them."
"Your ears are pierced."
"They will do you some good, I think. Shall I put them on you?"
He couldn't think of a way out of this gracefully. She had been overly kind to him.
She bent over him and brushed the hair behind one ear. The earing slipped on easily. It felt heavy hanging from his earlobe.
"I'm afraid all the hair will get tangled up in them," he said, as she put the other one in. "I've already had problems dealing with it. And the baby will probably yank it. I've already been fighting to keep her from pulling my hair."
"Come over here," she said.
He got up carefully and followed her to an ottoman sitting in front of a mirror. She motioned for him to sit down. He took the seat, but faced away from the mirror.
He removed the baby from his breast, snapped up the cup and buttoned his blouse before turning. He still couldn't believe what he was looking at had anything to do with him. Sandra watched him from the mirror. The earrings were large. The baby was rooting for the other breast. He unbuttoned and bared the other side and gave it to her. He didn't want to look up again.
"You have to put your head up," Sarah said.
She removed the clip from the back of his head. The hair fell on his shoulders.
"What are you doing?"
"Watch so you can do it yourself."
She produced a small brush from her sweater pocket and began brushing his hair and parting it. He started to pull away, but for some reason he checked himself. She was only trying to help. Pulling the hair in strands, she began to french braid it. One side was quickly done - the hair gathered back in a plait behind the ear.
"You think you can do this - I can take it out and let you try when the baby's done."
Steve looked at himself and nodded absently. She started on the other side. He was a woman, he told himself. He was sitting here with a baby sucking his boob - there was nothing left of what he once was. He began to cry. He couldn't stop.
"Are you all right?" Sarah asked.
"You're so nice-" he stammered through his tears. "I don't cry - I never cry...I didn't cry when my son disowned me - or even when my wife left me...What's happening to me?"
"Its probably just tension. Don't worry. Anybody would be stressed out by losing your life."
Steve laughed despite the streaks on his face.
"You can blame it on hormones. You might still be a man inside your head but you're in a woman's body."
"You're as crazy as I am," he said.
"Maybe. Try to wear the earrings - for me if not for yourself."
"Don't think about comfort - think about...well, I don't know...think about what you need to do."
Chapter Eleven :
Sarah told him about her life. Her son that was grown and painting in New York. Her husband that had died twenty years before. It was as if she understood he was too confused to share anything about himself at this point, so she filled up the hour with her own story and her own pain for him to use as a comparison. He didn't mind - she was an interesting person. He wondered if he had met her as a
man - in normal circumstances - he would have found her as fascinating. She was very spiritual. He might have just dismissed her awareness as just more new age flakiness. Not now. His slate of preconcieved notions was wiped clean. She did a bit of jewelry making. The earrings she had given him were her own - but mostly she just ran her shop and took care of her cats. She described the jewelry that she created as an inspirational event - something that seldom occured.
The baby began to get fussy after they had talked for awhile. Steve changed her and tried feeding her again and then walked up and down with her. She seemed to be getting more upset as time went on. He was still afraid to go back to the house, but didn't know what else he could do. He thought that taking her back to a setting she was familar with might somehow help. He couldn't think of anything else. Sarah offered to walk him back. She locked up and they went. Sarah pushed the stroller for him because the baby wouldn't allow herself to be put down in it. By the time they reached the alley, the child was wailing.
Steve was getting upset himself. He was sure the whole world was peering out of their windows at them - wondering why he was abusing the baby.
"Maybe you ate something weird?" Sarah asked, "That will affect your milk. She might be having a reaction to it."
He suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten all morning.
"You think the tea might be affecting her?" he asked.
"No. Its healthy - it was just orange herbal tea."
They reached the house and Sarah held the baby while Steve found the right key and opened the door.
"Well, good luck," Sarah said. "I really need to get back."
Steve grimaced at her. He took the baby inside and double locked the door behind him.
The baby cried non-stop for the next two hours. Steve tried nursing - she wasn't having any. He tried walking with her up and down through the house. He changed her a couple of more times. He recalled how his son as a baby had been quieted by going for a ride in the car. He searched for thing that would hum like a car engine. He ran the dryer, then the vaccuum cleaner, then the blow dryer. He sang songs. He gave up in frustration several times and just tried putting her in her crib and leaving the room. The wailing, heard from behind the nursery door, sounded worse than it did next to his ear. He got angry, then cried with the baby. Nothing he could do was helping her. He was ready to decide that there was something seriously with her and he had to get a taxi to take them to the hospital. At this point, he was again walking back and forth through the house and singing to her. They were both sweaty and miserable. It occured to him that a bath might distract her. He carried her into the bedroom and took off her clothing and then shifting her from one hip to the other, started to take off his own. Getting his blouse and then the bra off one arm at a time was an adventure. He removed the earrings and dumped his skirt on the pile at the end of the bed. He'd figure out the panties later. He carried her into the bathroom. The moment he turned on the water, she stopped.
Ok, he told himself. He didn't bother to put the stopper in. He let the water run and sat on the toilet seat. She took the breast easily now, and so he sat there to feed her, afraid that any change might start the wailing all over again. The bathroom filled with steam from the bath.
Chapter 12 :
The baby was back in the crib, asleep, thank god. Steve had returned to the bathroom and turned off the water. He had no interest in the bath now- sitting in the steam-filled room until he was sure the baby was asleep - and worrying the whole time about what the steam might be doing to the child- left him drained. He was soggy from head to foot anyway. The braids were two wet and heavy ropes hanging down his back. He went into the bedroom and climbed into bed.
He thought he might try to take a nap, but knew he probably couldn't. There was too much to deal with. He was worried that if he did fall asleep, he wouldn't hear the baby. And he was still half-afraid of someone showing up and finding him naked. (If he stayed awake, he could grab something off the floor, if he heard something the clothing was too much hassle right now.) Sarah had told him he had a husband - he was too afraid at the time to ask her any more about that - how could he have a husband?! Some guy walking in to find him was not going to be in a friendly mood.
He turned on his side. His right breast was sort of lying on his left one. This was not what he could have ever imagined. He cupped the boob on top and squeezed it. It was like anything else that was a part of his body. Just flesh, except rubbery. He had, secretly, imagined what it might be like to be a woman. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wondered what it would be like. He had never acted out any of his hidden fantasies - his life had come and gone, and he had reached a point where he had believed he was past his prime - that his life and all his potentials were expended. Any opportunity
or chance to be any different that he hadn't taken advantage of- wasn't going to be explored. All the wild gender stuff going on now was for younger people. He giggled. He had always thought that having breasts was like having two penises on your chest. That by rubbing the nipples, they would get hard - and you'd get aroused. He was suprised that rubbing the nipples caused an immediate and pleasent feeling in his vagina.
After an all day sucking bout with the baby, they felt like milk bottles. This body was so different. He couldn't lie on his stomach. Lying on his back felt weird. Like his butt was up on a pillow and then these things fell sideways against his arms. The hair kept getting caught underneath him and he couldn't just turn his head - he had to pull it out of the way before he moved.
What he felt inside was confusing and almost more troubling than the changes to the way he looked on the outside. He felt like he was filled to the brim with raw emotions. He used to move through the world almost mindlessly. There had been episodes with insecuritieswas he performing well- was he effective and decisive? But now, he couldn't quite regain an handle on anything that resembled confidence. It was as if he was a little boy again - wanting a parent to come comfort him - to take care of him. He was in a twenty year old body apparently. Was this how it was to be twenty? Had he forgotten?
He touched his vaginal mound, but that just felt like so much flesh too. How did women get aroused? Did they think of nude male bodies? He didn't want to consider that. He couldn't think of one man that he had ever looked at in admiration. He wasn't even sure he had seen another man nude in the last twenty years. The way he used to look - he had understood that some women found him attractive and sexy - but he really hadn't ever thought about the parts of it. Had it been his rear - or the hair on his chest? He felt so goddamn lost now. He had masturbated at least once or twice every day of his life - where were the urges now? The thought that a fantasy had been
fullfilled in a strange way - his becoming a woman - and having no sexual yearnings was depressing. He wanted to go back to the ways things were - if this was going to be it.
Chapter Thirteen :
The loud pounding just outside the window above his head made him jolt upright in bed. He was naked! He leapt up and grabbed the blouse and skirt from the floor. The pounding got louder. Someone was hammering the front door. Ignoring the underwear, he pulled on the blouse and hurriedly buttoned it over his boobs. He was going to get another skirt - one that he could move in - but he didn't have time now. He pulled on the tight demin skirt and zipped and buckled the belt. He was scared. Who the hell would be pounding on a door like that? Pulling his braids out of the back of the blouse, he carefully approached the window. He peeked out of one corner of the shade. It was the blonde guy! The man turned suddenly. His face was contorted. He spotted Steve through the window.
"Let me in, goddamn it!" he shouted.
Steve backed away.
The guy was prying the screen off outside the glass. It was tossed aside in a moment and he was trying the make up the bottom sill. Steve backed up to the opposite side of the room. What was he going to do? All the guy had to do was throw something and break the glass and he would be climbing in. There was nothing in the whole damn house to defend himself with. No knives- no nothing! He grabbed the telephone and called emergency. It took forever for someone to come on the line.
"Some guy is trying to break in my house!"
"What's he doing?" came a tiny voice.
"Please! Help me!"
"What's your address?"
The window shattered. Glass flew across the bed. The man reached in, undid the latch, and yanked the window up. Steve threw the telephone at the open gap and ran out of the bedroom. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the glass crunching as the guy climbed inside. He hesitated in the hallway. He could could run for the back door and get out - but he couldn't leave the baby! Steve ran to the nursery. The baby was awake and crying. He gathered her up and turned. The guy was in the only doorway out of the room.
He seemed to be catching his breath. His arms were bleeding from crawling in through the broken window. Steve looked around the room for something to throw at him. There wasn't anything! The diaper pail. He grabbed it with his free hand.
"Stay away from me!" he squeeked.
The guy smiled and stepped toward him. Steve swung the pail and caught him in the side with it. He fell against the wall and Steve tried to make it through the doorway. He was caught. The guy had reached up and grabbed his braid.
The guy had regained his feet and with the other hand caught the other braid. He pulled Steve back. He quickly had both braids in one hand at the back of Steve's neck. Tears came to his eyes. The guy was going to pull his hair out by the roots!
"You weren't going to go anywhere, were you?" the guy asked.
The baby was screaming in Steve's ear.
"Please, let go! The baby!"
"Yeah. So you feel like one big boob yet?" The guy pulled him around. "Look at me!"
He pulled the buttons apart on Steve's blouse with his other hand. Steve tried to twist free of him, but the hand at the back of his neck jerked him back.
"Are you having fun?" the guy shouted.
"Please! Don't hurt me. The baby."
"Are you feeling sexy yet?!" the guy shouted.
"What do you want?"
"My life back, you stupid whore!"
Steve felt crazy. He was dizzy and he couldn't focus.
"Let me go!"
He began thrashing at the guy with his free hand, but it wasn't doing anything. He was sobbing.
"Please. Don't hurt me any more." he begged. "I'll do anything you want."
The guy shoved him to the floor. It was all Steve could do to fall without falling on the baby or losing his grasp of her. She screamed. As soon as he caught his breath, he scooted across the carpet away from the guy. He clutched the baby to his neck.
"Hello!" came a shout from the front of the house.
The guy turned.
"What's going on in here?" It was a man's voice.
Chapter Fourteen :
The blonde guy picked up the diaper pail and left the room. He moved cautiously down the hall.
"Watch out!" Steve screamed at whoever was out front.
The baby was still crying - she was near to having convulsions. He hugged her tighter and comforted her and then tried to pull himself up. Damn this skirt! The guy was out of sight. Steve wondered if he might make it out the back door. There was a sudden shout from the living room and the sound of scuffling. Then the siren. It stopped out front. Steve ventured out into the hallway. Men's voices shouted from the living room. There were heavy feet on the porch. More scuffling.
"Get down, you son-of-a-bitch!"
Steve peeked from the hallway through the dining room. There were two cops and another man in the living room. The two cops had the blonde guy down on the floor on his stomach and were putting handcuffs on him. The front door was wide open. Steve pulled his blouse together with one hand and went out into the dining room. The cops had the guy up and were shoving him out the door.
The other man, who Steve had never seen before, turned to him when he appeared with the baby.
"Are you all right?"
Steve nodded. The baby had begun to sob a little softer.
"I knew you were here by yourself," the man said. "I came in through the window and the asshole jumped me."
He turned and went out on the porch. Steve followed him. He knew he was supposed to know who this man was - he hoped he could fake his way through this and get them out of here.
The cops were stuffing the blonde guy into the back of their patrol car. After he was locked in, one of them returned to where they were standing.
"So what happened?" the cop asked.
"I'm the next door neighbor." the man told him. "I heard the shouting and the window break so I came running."
The man was proud of himself. Steve knew he had to be thankful - but all he wished he could do was go hide somewhere.
"He jumped me the same way he jumped you guys when you came in. I knew I had to get that door open, if I was going to get some help."
"Do you know this guy?" the cop asked Steve.
"No... He came up to me earlier today when I was out for a walk. He threatened me then."
"When was that?"
"I don't know - this morning some time. He was standing across the street when I came out. Then he shows up now. He broke the window and came in that way." Steve heard his voice break. He swallowed, feeling the tears welling up again.
A car pulled up and parked behind the patrol car. An angular dark haired man climbed out and came rushing over. Steve spotted the car and the man almost immediately. The car was the one he had driven away from the bar last night. Steve felt faint. The man was the woman he had left with. The face was the same! The cop turned, following the direction of Steve's stunned stare. The man came into the yard.
"Who are you?" the cop asked.
"The husband. Sandy, are you all right?"
Chapter Fifteen :
"I guess I'm all right," Steve said - the words barely making it out of his mouth. He was only slightly aware that the baby had fallen asleep at his neck or that the neighbor and the cop were talking. He couldn't hear a word being said. He just stared at the man that had said he was his husband. It was the woman from the night before all right. The face had no make-up, but the eyes, the brow and the lips were exactly the same. The hair was the same - a little flatter. He looked at the man's body. It was a man's. The shoulders were broad - he was thin in the hips. The woman's hips were what had convinced him he was following a real woman to her car. The dark suit and loosened tie were convincing. The man seemed to understand Steve was in shock. He returned his look with a quick flicker of a wink - as if to tell Steve he knew exactly what was going on. Steve wanted to kill him. The son-of-a-bitch did this to me, he thought.
The man broke in on the neighbor reiterating his story for the cop.
"Look, Sandy has had a rough time. Can we come in later and give a full statement. The baby needs to be taken care of."
The cop looked at him and then at Sandy and finally nodded. The man pulled out his wallet and pulled out a business card. He borrowed the policeman's pen and wrote a telephone number on the back.
"This is our home phone. We'll be over in a few hours to file a complaint. You've got Sam's statement." He turned to the neighbor. "We really appricate what you've done, Sam. There's no way in the world Sandy or I could ever repay you for this. You could've been killed."
"That's all right. You'd better get them inside and take care of them," the neighbor replied, patting him on the shoulder.
The man gently took Steve's elbow and turned him toward the door. Steve went in. He had a sudden frantic thought that he might be better off outside with the baby and holding his ripped blouse than coming in here to be alone with this person - or thing - he didn't know. The cop and the neighbor seemed like regular people. This man didn't.
Steve glanced up at the man's face. His eyes were looking back at him everytime he looked - almost as if his thoughts were being read.
"Who are you?" Steve whispered.
"Shhh," the man said and closed and locked the front door.
"Look," he said, turning back to Steve. "I'm really sorry this has happened. I'll make it up to you. I promise. Why don't you take care of the baby - or give her to me and I'll take care of her. You need to get yourself together. You've had a rough time. I can see it in your eyes."
"Why should I do anything you tell me?" Steve was getting angry.
"You don't have to do anything, ok?" He scratched his forehead. "I need to clean up the glass and figure out something to cover the broken window. You can do whatever you like. As soon, as that's done and the baby's ok, I would like a drink. I will tell you everthing, I promise. I'm not a dishonest person. I was supposed to be here when you woke up this morning."
"Go fix the window," Steve told him.
The man started for the back of the house.
"What's your name, anyway?" Steve called after him.
The man turned, surprised.
They looked at each other and then Aaron went back through the kitchen. Well, Steve thought to himself. The baby was asleep - probably from shock. He carried her back to the nursery and after holding her up and looking her over to make sure she wasn't bruised or cut, and after nudging her awake a little, to make sure she wasn't comatose, he put her down in the crib. He tucked the blankets around her and watched her for awhile just to be sure she was breathing properly. She didn't seem any the worse for wear. He looked around the room, thinking things needed to be picked up after that struggle. (Thinking about sent a shiver through him.) Nothing was a bit out of place. He turned off the light and went into the bedroom.
He needed some new clothes. The bedroom and the bed had already been swept clean of the broken glass and Aaron was outside the window, on the front porch, fitting the outside window sill with a couple sheets of plywood. He had removed the coat and tie and was busy hammering a piece across the bottom half of the window. Steve had a strange sensation of somehow watching himself at work out there. He went to the underwear drawer and picked out a clean bra and panties. It suddenly dawned on him - if this guy was supposed to be his husband then where was his clothes - his underwear. He was being set-up again! Picking out another blouse and skirt from the closet, he quickly left the room. He imagined that the guy had intended him to change in the bedroom - just so he could get a eyefull. Then he realized he was just vain and a bit silly. He was honestly fixing the window, anyway. Steve went to the bathroom and locked himself in.
He unlocked it a second later and cracked it open so he could hear if "Aaron" started toward the nursery.
Chapter Sixteen :
Steve found he couldn't hook the clasps on on his bra - his hands were trembling too much. He sat down on the toilet seat and covered his face with his hands. He refused to cry. Damn this body! He had been too afraid - he had been knocked around by a madman - made to beg for his life - if this was what being a woman was, he didn't want any part of it. And this guy out here fixing the window! Who the hell was he? To top it all off, he was driven to be protective and maternal toward a baby that wasn't his! He had been willing to let the blonde guy rape him just so he'd leave the baby alone. He was truly going crazy.
After a bit, he calmed down and the trembling went away. He stood and started the process of getting dressed. It seemed to be a process. It used to be so easy - pull on your underwear and pants - button a shirt. Now it was this bra - and pads, panties that still felt like they rode too high. The buttons were on the opposite side and the blouses weren't exactly comfortable - there was either too much fabric or they were tight in places that made you feel like if you moved too quickly something would rip. This one buttoned tightly under his boobs - making them even more apparent than they were - and had sleeves like balloons. The skirt he had picked out was going to be easier to move in, but it was a real light fabric and flowery. He felt naked underneath.
He undid the braids, which were nearly unraveled anyway, and combed out the hair. Washing his face, he looked at himself again - shook his head and went out.
The guy was sitting in the living room, sipping a drink. There was a second glass on the coffee table.
"I made you one - I didn't know what you liked...Rum and coke ok?"
"If that's all that's in it," Steve said.
They looked at each other.
"Come and sit down. I won't bite you," Aaron said.
Steve sat. He sipped the drink. It tasted good. He needed one.
"Are you all right - you've been through hell, I know."
"So how did I get in this body? And who the hell are you?" Steve asked.
"I don't know where to start. I'm a different species than you - but not so different that we don't have things in common and can't interbreed."
"So you're my favorite martian? Give me a break."
"About third generation my favorite martian."
Steve realized he wasn't joking.
"There's about thirty thousand of us - I think. The original families that immigrated have spread out and inter-married. It hard to know how many or where we all are now."
Steve didn't know what to say.
"All that's really beside the point, I guess. I met Sandy - whose body you have now - we fell in love and got married."
"Martians don't need clothes or toothbushes? There's nothing in this house that belongs to you - how can you be the husband?"
"I understand your anger. Just let me explain. We separated about two months ago. Look - we have the ability to change our shape...and change others."
"None of this makes any sense," Steve said. "So you wanted to get a new Sandy - one that would be what you wanted her to be - or one that would take you back?"
"Its nothing like that at all. Give me a chance!"
"Do you know what a transsexual is?" he asked.
Steve nodded. He swallowed, even though he didn't want to.
"I'm a transsexual. I was born female - but I'm not. Sandy thought she was in the same boat. Sandy is the blonde guy that the police took away for attacking you. That's the way he looked when I met him. He was born a man."
"He's mad," Steve said.
"Yeah." Aaron rubbed his face. "We wanted to have children - but we wanted each other's roles. So I got pregnant with Ally and we started a transformation. Once the change is complete - 100% complete - it can't be reversed. By the time I was ready to deliver, I looked
like a pregnant man- with a vagina - and Sandy looked the way you do now. After the baby came the whole thing blew up. She had trouble dealing with taking care of the baby. She started hating me - blaming me for all of her discomfort. We split up and I moved out. She tried to commit sucide twice. I had pretty much decided I needed to take the baby from her - but she fought me tooth and nail - I looked like a father - father's don't get custody of new-borns. Three days ago, she called me to come over and when I got here, she demanded that I change her back to a man. So I did. She split the moment it was done."
"So you've pulled me into the middle of this mess because you wanted a nurse for the baby."
"No!" He took a drink. "Well maybe I did - but its not the way you think. I wasn't - I didn't intend to leave you this way. I was lonely and crazed. I had a babysitter here when I couldn't be here - I've had no sleep in three days. The babysitter agreed to stay last night, so I went out to that bar - I started out just drinking - but the crowd was so gender crazed - I decided maybe I could find someone else like me. I can disguise myself. And I met you. We came back here - and you seemed to want it. I can't make a change on anyone that doesn't want it! Its like hypnosis - I can't make you do anything against your will. It was supposed to be just a fling - you would wake up like you were! I'm sorry for all of this. I really am. At two in the morning, Sandy was out front screaming for me. I went out to talk to him - he was going to blow his brains out - he had a pistol. I calmed him down and promised to take him to my place since he wouldn't come in here. I came back in to get dressed and you wouldn't let me change you back!"
"So you left me here alone with the baby?"
"The babysitter was here - I swear. You can call her if you want. Let me get you the number." He pulled out his wallet and gave Steve a card with a number scrawled on it. "She must have got up and saw you in the bed and thought you were Sandy - so she left."
Steve just gazed at the card.
"So where have you been all fucking day long?" Steve asked.
Aaron looked at the ceiling.
"I was asleep," he murmured.
"I was exhusted. I'm sorry - Look, I'll make it up to you now. You can go back to your life - just as you were - or better yet, I could shave ten or fifteen years off your age. Would that make up for this fiasco? I've no real excuse for what has happened. If there is any way I can fix it - I will."
"Fuck you!" Steve screamed at him. "You expect me to believe all this cock and bull?"
Aaron stood up.
"Let's get it over with, ok? Then you can get out of here."
Chapter Seventeen :
Steve didn't get up. Aaron was ready to do his magic trick, but Steve suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the way he had been. To be honest, he hadn't believed any of it until Aaron stood up.
"What about the baby?" he heard himself ask.
"We'll make out. I've been handling it for three days."
"You've been giving her bottles?"
"She didn't like it at first," Aaron said. "But its been crazy here. A bottle is a lot better than a suicidal mother."
"What if I gave you more time to get things settled?" Steve asked.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"I'm not sure. I wasn't happy where I was in my life. Maybe this is a time out. Ally's your baby - would you trust me to help out for a week?"
"I trust her with the babysitter. What do you want in return?"
"Some blue jeans and some tennis shoes to start. Are all these clothes your doing?"
"No. Sandy went out of her way to be the ultra feminine perfect housewife - like if she looked like Donna Reed she would be happy. You want to be a woman permanently?" Aaron asked.
"Maybe not - I don't like being terrorized or man-handled. You think Sandy will be back?"
"Not if I press charges. I thought tomorrow that I could hire her a lawyer and a shrink. I think that it could be worked so she's institutionalized so she can get some help. I still love her."
"Is it going to bother you that I'm her double?"
He sighed. "Probably."
"I don't think I can sleep with you again," Steve said. "It's too weird."
"All right. You didn't answer my question. What do you want in return? I think I could handle it easier if it felt like you were working for me," he said.
"Maybe I want to try on being female, is that all right? I'm a little scared of the whole thing. I guess what I want you to agree to is to change me back if I want or leave me the way I am if I want. No more drunken fantasies."
"All right. Its a deal." Aaron offered his hand. Steve hesitated, but then shook it. Aaron held on a split second too long.
"There's a few things I need though," Steve said. "I need you to change my voice back for a about an hour in the morning so I can arrange my absence. Can you do that?" Aaron nodded. "I want you to take me and the baby shopping so I can get some more comfortable clothes."
"That's all I can think of," Steve said.
"You want another drink?" Aaron asked.
"I like you," Aaron said, walking back to the kitchen, "You're tough."
When he returned with their refills, he had a slight grin on his face.
"What's funny?" Steve asked.
"I'm glad I met you. What do I call you - you know, a name?"
"I don't know - how about Steve? I don't know if I'd respond to anything else."
"You think Stephanie might be all right?"
"I know how you feel," Aaron said. "I was Erica for years and I hated it."
Chapter Eighteen :
The second drink had Steve feeling drunk.
"I don't think I'm going to last long. I forgot to eat today," he told Aaron.
"You want me to fix you something?"
"No, I'm ok. I'm not really hungry. The buzz feels nice. How come I don't remember anything from last night? The last thing I did was get in your car and start driving - and you were playing with me."
"Well, I'm not sure. The first time with Sandy, she couldn't remember either. I guess it has to do with the process. It's sort of like I'm engulfing you or hypnotizing you."
"Did we fuck?"
"Doesn't that make you feel at little guilty - sort of like fucking somebody when they're drunk or high?"
"I can't make you do anything against your will."
"So how? You have man's parts?"
"Yes. And you have women's parts - and a period."
"So who gets on top?"
"Whoever wants to."
"So did you think - pretend I was Sandy?"
"You are more agressive - even when you're under in influence. There's a way of creating an illusion - like the one last night when you thought I was a full-fledged woman. You can feel what its like to be completely female and I get to play being a man."
"You did that with Sandy?"
"More and more as time went on - only its hard to keep it up - as they say."
"Damn this-" he said. "I catch myself - you know - suddenly I hear this little girl voice coming out of my mouth. Or I tee hee, or I catch myself chewing on a fingernail. Am I supposed to just fall head first into being a girl?"
"I think you're getting drunk."
"Time for bed."
Steve stood up and immediately lost his balance. Aaron was up and grabbing his arm to steady him.
"You can touch?" Steve asked.
"I was afraid you'd hurt yourself."
Aaron let him go. He took a step and grabbed the man's arm again.
"If you'd kindly show me to my room, I guess I'd appreciate it. But you can't stay."
"I'll sleep out here." Aaron told him.
"I guess that's all right - seeing how you're the employer and all."
Aaron helped him into the bedroom. Once through the door, Steve forgot himself and started stripping, dropping the blouse and skirt on the floor. He pulled down the bed clumsily and plopped down. Aaron was still there.
"You didn't see anything, did you? I forgot I'm supposed to be cautious. The sight of my body might drive you wild with desire. I need to learn that yet."
"You won't hurt me, will you?" Steve asked.
Aaron was tucking him in.
"No, I promise."
"You know what? The whole reason why I wanted to stay a week?"
"The whole reason - besides you being a nice person - was that I really really like these boobs, you know? I think I've wanted them all my life. I'm not sure I ever want to lose them."
"Well, you can tell me what you want next week."
"What did you do with my suit?
"Its under the bed. I thought it would be safe there. I couldn't find an empty hanger."
"Well, it all makes sense now."
Steve snuggled down under the blankets and Aaron turned off the light. He was soon breathing softly and regularly. Aaron stood in the doorway for a bit and just watched him sleep. He had a great deal of mixed emotions about this. He felt he had somehow gotten a second chance. The woman before him was the gorgeous creature he had helped create. Sandy had asked for looks and a body that would push all his buttons - but inside Sandy had been so different. This person was wise and strong and at ease with him. This was all brand new. Something had to go wrong - she would decide she wanted out- or worse, that she didn't want him. He was guilty about doing this to her- he should have given a different body - or given her the choice. Damn it, he had given her a choice. He had a week. It was up to him to convince her that maybe she could love him.
Chapter Nineteen :
Steve jumped. There was someone in the room - over the bed! It took a second to come to his senses. Aaron was standing there in the darkness.
He held out the baby.
"Oh - I thought..."
Steve took the child and nestled down with her next to him. He unsnapped his bra and dropped the pad on the floor.
"I've heard tell this can be done," he murmured to the baby.
He gave the baby the breast and she was quickly feeding contentedly. Aaron was leaving.
"Thanks," Steve called after him.
He nursed, dozed, and woke up again and moved her to the other side and fell asleep again. Again came the dreams of someone or something making love to this body without him being able to see or feel them. He slept uneasily and awoke again sometime in the early morning. Groggily, he carried the baby back to the nursery and put her down in the crib. His bladder was full. He went to the bathroom surrounded by the dark heavy fog. Pulling down the front of his panties, he groped for his penis and couldn't find it! .
He couldn't hold it any longer. Afraid and confused about where it might come out, he sat on the toilet. It gushed from somewhere inside..
Aaron looked tired. The shirt he was was wearing as a nightshirt was badly rumpled. Steve glanced at the man's bare legs. They were hairy.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe about four thirty," Aaron said.
"I don't think I can sleep anymore. You going to stay awake?"
"If you want me to," Aaron said.
"I'll go put something on. Don't go back to sleep, please."
Aaron nodded. Steve edged by him and returned to the bedroom. He rifled the drawers, hoping to find something that wasn't a extra short frilly gauzey nightie, but had no luck. Frustrated, he finally just grabbed one. Damn this bra - suddenly he was aware how uncomfortable it was. Pulling it off, he slipped the nightie over his head and went to find Aaron. .
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