Monday, August 31, 2009

capitalist debates confused_obama_voting_pal:

(10:37:30) confused_obama_voting_pal: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5ZrTO7yRYI
(10:54:10) capitalist: tiny is charing 50 hours and being generous as shit
(10:54:15) capitalist: whole weekend shafted
(10:54:18) capitalist: everythign down still
(10:54:20) capitalist: bolean
(10:54:21) confused_obama_voting_pal: are they complaining?
(10:58:04) confused_obama_voting_pal: did u see the youtube vid
(11:49:04) confused_obama_voting_pal: tiny, get ready to jump into buying home for investment this coming winter.
(11:49:04) capitalist : I'm not here right now
(11:49:05) confused_obama_voting_pal: http://www.fieldcheckgroup.com/2009/07/19/7-19-mortgage-default-crisis-brutal-past-two-months/
(11:49:28) confused_obama_voting_pal: don't forget... capital gains is ZERO% when you sell a house if you profited (after having the house for 2 years)
(11:49:32) confused_obama_voting_pal: ZErO % capital gains!
(11:58:24) confused_obama_voting_pal: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ_4Km90bkk&feature=player_embedded
(11:58:28) confused_obama_voting_pal: moral of the story: get into USD
(12:04:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: tiny needs to read up on "Elliot Wave theory"
(12:04:34) capitalist : I'm not here right now
(12:28:55) capitalist: SHIT
(12:28:59) capitalist: time to buy some house
(12:29:06) confused_obama_voting_pal: yup
(12:29:09) capitalist: I hear dobama takign that shit away unless prim rez
(12:29:20) confused_obama_voting_pal: prim rez?
(12:32:15) capitalist: primary
(12:32:19) capitalist: so anyone ivesting is fucked
(12:32:25) capitalist: essentailly raising taxes
(12:32:32) confused_obama_voting_pal: ohthat's definitely the case now
(12:32:38) capitalist: taxbama
(12:32:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: but that's been like that foryears
(12:32:47) confused_obama_voting_pal: prior to obama
(12:32:55) confused_obama_voting_pal: only 0% cap gains on house sell if primary res
(12:33:14) capitalist: I thought that was brand new.
(12:33:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: i could be wrong, but i'm like 80% sure it's been like that for awhile
(12:33:56) confused_obama_voting_pal: i think it's great that we dont' incentivize 'investors' of home buyers
(12:34:06) confused_obama_voting_pal: homes shouldn't be investment tools imo
(12:34:14) confused_obama_voting_pal: it keeps people who actually NEED HOMES out of a home
(12:34:21) confused_obama_voting_pal: due to massive speculation of "investors"
(12:34:42) capitalist: well
(12:34:49) capitalist: lcurretn taxes reflect that a fucker who has cash
(12:34:55) capitalist: can buy a house and get tax break
(12:35:00) capitalist: obama is taking away tax break
(12:35:02) capitalist: rasiin taxes
(12:35:08) capitalist: sneeaky
(12:35:18) capitalist: cap gains going up i heard
(12:35:21) capitalist: too
(12:35:31) capitalist: people dont get you arent guna get more outa governemtn
(12:35:40) capitalist: you just get less tax break if you own property
(12:35:46) confused_obama_voting_pal: good. cap gains SHOULD go up
(12:35:53) confused_obama_voting_pal: prevents amateur stock speculation
(12:36:02) capitalist: your a commy then
(12:36:05) confused_obama_voting_pal: i've been telling you about my theory on that for YEARS
(12:36:08) capitalist: I disagree philopohically
(12:36:15) capitalist: I already paid tax on money i invest
(12:36:18) capitalist: already did
(12:36:20) capitalist: now tax again?
(12:36:25) confused_obama_voting_pal: the point of INVESTING in stocks is mean tto be just that INVESTING. not speulation like trading baseball cards
(12:36:27) capitalist: i think cap gain should eb abolished
(12:36:29) capitalist: abolished
(12:36:37) confused_obama_voting_pal: ok tiny
(12:36:39) capitalist: investing is giving money to good biz to expand biz
(12:36:49) capitalist: save not consume 100%
(12:36:51) capitalist: liek homy
(12:36:58) confused_obama_voting_pal: i realize you are thinking about it emotionally from a "tiny" perspective
(12:37:02) capitalist: and to give that extra cash yes u get a gain
(12:37:02) confused_obama_voting_pal: meaning "how this is good for tiny"
(12:37:04) capitalist: for your risk
(12:37:10) confused_obama_voting_pal: but you have to look at the big picture. society's impact
(12:37:16) capitalist: thats called communism
(12:37:25) confused_obama_voting_pal: what good does baseball card-trdaing like behavior in stock trading do for society?
(12:37:26) confused_obama_voting_pal: nothing
(12:37:32) capitalist: society impact = tons of investing cash goes to biz who do well
(12:37:38) capitalist: those that suck people dotn invest in
(12:37:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: the idea was to create a vehcile so that people who are truly wanting to invest in a productive part of business can do so
(12:37:47) capitalist: winner, those who really make good product get cash to expand
(12:37:54) confused_obama_voting_pal: not to trade baseball cards in hopes that the gamble will pay off
(12:38:01) capitalist: market sorts all that out
(12:38:10) capitalist: only those who sell good product can stay in biz
(12:38:14) confused_obama_voting_pal: again, tiny needs to stop thinking emotionally
(12:38:20) confused_obama_voting_pal: and actually know facts before making debate
(12:38:40) confused_obama_voting_pal: that last thing you said is perfect example
(12:38:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: tiny knows very little about reality
(12:38:47) capitalist: now when you get goventment onvolved, liek berknaanke and fed giving loans to poor who cant amke a car payment, cuz cliton said too few poor minotiry have home, then youget real estate bubble
(12:38:51) capitalist: and bust
(12:38:59) capitalist: caused by government interfeareing in market
(12:39:00) confused_obama_voting_pal: due to stock bubbles, aig and companies that actually make NO product actually make out very big
(12:39:04) capitalist: eg fed/cliton fanny
(12:39:11) capitalist: no
(12:39:13) confused_obama_voting_pal: due to baseball card amateur traders
(12:39:16) confused_obama_voting_pal: like somoen ewe know
(12:39:18) capitalist: a company must ultimately produce or it goes out biz
(12:39:22) capitalist: unless bailout
(12:39:27) confused_obama_voting_pal: like aig?
(12:39:29) confused_obama_voting_pal: like bofa?
(12:39:32) capitalist: aig= massive governemtn
(12:39:40) capitalist: insurance=massive governmetn regualtion to stop competition
(12:39:47) confused_obama_voting_pal: ok tiny
(12:39:49) capitalist: aig=minitstry of governmetn
(12:39:54) capitalist: not a private competitive biz
(12:39:57) confused_obama_voting_pal: this is again one of these things yo'll come back years from now and rethink
(12:40:00) confused_obama_voting_pal: just like many other things i've told u
(12:40:01) capitalist: just like medical industry
(12:40:09) capitalist: hevy regulation to destroy competition
(12:40:17) capitalist: and fed+fractional reserve anking
(12:40:20) capitalist: not competitive biz
(12:40:22) capitalist: governemtn
(12:40:24) capitalist: gov
(12:40:32) capitalist: oh ive thought of this for decades
(12:40:40) capitalist: capitalism involves all these qustions
(12:40:46) capitalist: i debating this kinda stuff in 1993 with evil clint
(12:40:47) confused_obama_voting_pal: alright then, no point in arguing w/ on it. you've got your mind made out
(12:40:49) capitalist: 1993
(12:40:56) capitalist: remeber 1993?
(12:41:05) confused_obama_voting_pal: yes, that was when i grad high school
(12:41:07) confused_obama_voting_pal: what about it
(12:41:07) capitalist: well what are we arguing?
(12:41:16) capitalist: what should capital gains be?
(12:41:24) capitalist: I say 0
(12:41:26) confused_obama_voting_pal: dunno but certainly shouldn't be 0
(12:41:29) confused_obama_voting_pal: alright good then
(12:41:33) confused_obama_voting_pal: u never think of consequence
(12:41:34) capitalist: you already pay tax on paycheck
(12:41:36) confused_obama_voting_pal: same thing in IT world
(12:41:39) confused_obama_voting_pal: tiny never thinks of consequence
(12:41:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: only thinks about the black & white ideology
(12:41:46) capitalist: what is conswquence
(12:41:55) capitalist: more people saving and investing?
(12:41:56) confused_obama_voting_pal: that'st he question u need to ask yourself
(12:42:00) capitalist: good thing if ask me
(12:42:00) confused_obama_voting_pal: u always think there is NO consequence
(12:42:04) confused_obama_voting_pal: you rarely ever think anything through
(12:42:06) capitalist: market will sort it out
(12:42:09) capitalist: i dont need to worry
(12:42:14) confused_obama_voting_pal: you're right u don't
(12:42:14) capitalist: market is best sorter
(12:42:20) confused_obama_voting_pal: no way it'll be 0 perc
(12:42:30) capitalist: hong kong had 15% cap gain
(12:42:33) confused_obama_voting_pal: lemme ask u
(12:42:35) confused_obama_voting_pal: stop for sec lemme ask u
(12:42:40) capitalist: fastest economy growth in histry
(12:42:45) capitalist: and 15% flat tax
(12:42:47) confused_obama_voting_pal: u want to stop so i can ask?
(12:42:48) capitalist: no other taxes
(12:42:50) capitalist: okok
(12:43:24) confused_obama_voting_pal: what do u think happens to a society in which NOBODY will want to work for salary ? if 0% tax on baseball card trading, vs 40% for working salary.. why would anyone work?
(12:43:31) confused_obama_voting_pal: u can just trade baseball carsd all day
(12:43:45) capitalist: yeah but competition
(12:43:47) confused_obama_voting_pal: see.. tiny never thinks of consequence. just blabbers without thinking thru
(12:43:54) capitalist: for every winner there is a loser
(12:44:04) capitalist: and most people too risk averse to start own biz
(12:44:10) capitalist: so 80% work for living on salary
(12:44:14) capitalist: mostly
(12:44:26) capitalist: i dreem of USA where 40% salary
(12:44:28) confused_obama_voting_pal: so tiny's ideology is everyone should start own biz
(12:44:30) confused_obama_voting_pal: makes sense
(12:44:32) capitalist: in 1800s 10% salrry
(12:44:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: all chiefs no indians
(12:44:36) capitalist: and we grewe much faster
(12:46:34) capitalist: the market sorts out most bs
(12:46:40) capitalist: becaue no one will buy bs
(12:46:43) capitalist: if free not to
(12:46:52) confused_obama_voting_pal: right just like it sorted out aig
(12:46:53) confused_obama_voting_pal: and lehman
(12:46:55) confused_obama_voting_pal: and bear sterns
(12:47:02) confused_obama_voting_pal: and the 1000 banks that have failed thus far
(12:47:11) capitalist: lehamn etc were call caused by governmetn intvervention and regualtion of money
(12:47:11) confused_obama_voting_pal: and the 1000's of banks that will failed in 2 years
(12:47:13) confused_obama_voting_pal: riiiight
(12:47:16) capitalist: not true competitive businesses
(12:47:20) confused_obama_voting_pal: really? u sure?
(12:47:25) capitalist: pseudo governmetnal entities in a mesh of regualtion
(12:47:31) confused_obama_voting_pal: i think you are the only person on planet that thinks lehman was regulated
(12:47:33) capitalist: ooked into government
(12:47:42) capitalist: insurance/banks i have said for YEARS need reform
(12:47:44) confused_obama_voting_pal: it was actually the fact that it does CDS derivatives (UNREGULATED) that caused its demise
(12:47:49) capitalist: they are nothing close to free market
(12:47:50) confused_obama_voting_pal: again, tiny arguing w/ out knownig any facts
(12:48:14) confused_obama_voting_pal: dude, seriously. when u make args like that it's really nonsense to even debate with you
(12:48:30) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's very emotional and not productive at all when you just throw anything out there without knowing facts
(12:48:42) capitalist: so how did lehamn make money?
(12:48:46) confused_obama_voting_pal: u don't know?!
(12:48:48) confused_obama_voting_pal: CDS!
(12:48:55) confused_obama_voting_pal: DERIVATIVES!
(12:48:56) capitalist: what did thye sell
(12:48:57) capitalist: ok
(12:48:58) confused_obama_voting_pal: shadow banking my friend
(12:49:06) capitalist: and who made it ok legally to sell that?
(12:49:09) confused_obama_voting_pal: NOBODY
(12:49:12) confused_obama_voting_pal: that's the problem!
(12:49:13) capitalist: GOVERNMENT
(12:49:18) confused_obama_voting_pal: that's why govt could NOT bail them out.
(12:49:22) confused_obama_voting_pal: they were OUTSIDE realm of regulation
(12:49:30) capitalist: you gota register financial instruments with GOVERNEMNT right? need license to sell securities right?
(12:49:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: dude, seriously.. what are you arguing for?
(12:49:39) confused_obama_voting_pal: you have no idea what you're talking about
(12:49:40) confused_obama_voting_pal: at all
(12:49:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: omg, u are serious?!
(12:49:48) confused_obama_voting_pal: tiny... man
(12:49:50) confused_obama_voting_pal: i have nothing to say
(12:49:58) capitalist: so if they are not legal, not enforace by our governemtns legal system? how do they exist?
(12:50:03) confused_obama_voting_pal: dude
(12:50:08) confused_obama_voting_pal: i can't argue w/ u anymore
(12:50:11) capitalist: if not enforaceable, why doesnt some russian jsut take the gold and run?
(12:50:11) confused_obama_voting_pal: the best advice i can give you
(12:50:18) confused_obama_voting_pal: is just really.. learn some facts before discussing arlight?
(12:50:25) capitalist: im jsut tryign to figur eout where you comign from
(12:50:29) capitalist: its so foriegn to me
(12:50:30) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's like trying to talk to mechanic about lasers in the water stream
(12:50:38) confused_obama_voting_pal: and gerbils in carboretur
(12:50:39) capitalist: I dotn know what you are thinking
(12:50:42) confused_obama_voting_pal: u have no clue
(12:51:00) capitalist: lehamn if they sold something worth mopney msut have had a legal contract
(12:51:05) capitalist: isnt derivative a contract?
(12:51:08) capitalist: thats law
(12:51:11) capitalist: law is governemnt
(12:51:16) capitalist: law courts enforce contracts
(12:51:17) capitalist: right?
(12:51:22) confused_obama_voting_pal: nope
(12:51:26) confused_obama_voting_pal: u really should look it up tiny
(12:51:26) capitalist: so govermetn msut have document on what a derivative is right?
(12:51:36) confused_obama_voting_pal: don't ask me. if you don't know, u shouldn't be arguing
(12:51:39) confused_obama_voting_pal: just go look it up
(12:51:40) capitalist: otherwise someone say fuck you im not paying your derivative
(12:51:43) capitalist: ill keep your cash
(12:51:45) confused_obama_voting_pal: *sigh*
(12:51:51) capitalist: fundamentals JT
(12:51:55) capitalist: derivative CONTRACT
(12:52:01) confused_obama_voting_pal: ok tiny. there are gerbils in your engine
(12:52:02) capitalist: legal
(12:52:11) confused_obama_voting_pal: and lasers make sparkplugs ignite
(12:52:19) confused_obama_voting_pal: u know apparently how it works
(12:52:19) confused_obama_voting_pal: good
(12:52:41) capitalist: so no layers are involved in a derivative contract
(12:52:45) capitalist: lawyers
(12:52:51) capitalist: its scartched onto a napkin
(12:53:03) capitalist: IOU
(12:53:06) confused_obama_voting_pal: at this point, u have to ask yourself... is this an emotional response?
(12:53:11) confused_obama_voting_pal: seriously. stop and ask yourself that
(12:53:18) capitalist: Im just ocming at it from who can this work?
(12:53:31) capitalist: if soeon sells a financial product
(12:53:37) capitalist: it must have a legal writeup
(12:53:46) capitalist: enforceable by governmetn courts
(12:53:51) confused_obama_voting_pal: is legal writeup the same as regulated, tiny?
(12:53:54) capitalist: so how can government not know?
(12:54:08) confused_obama_voting_pal: if i sell you some protein from GNC , it's legitimate receipt.. yet is it regulated tiny?
(12:54:09) confused_obama_voting_pal: no it's not
(12:54:27) confused_obama_voting_pal: protein and other weight lifting enhance foods are not regulated.
(12:54:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: but according to you that's the same thing as "NOT LEGIT"
(12:54:40) capitalist: woa
(12:54:42) capitalist: not so fast
(12:54:42) confused_obama_voting_pal: you seriously need to stop thinking emotionally.
(12:54:49) capitalist: i would say this:
(12:54:55) capitalist: ok if mexamax is not regulated
(12:54:58) capitalist: and I eat it
(12:55:01) capitalist: and I get sick
(12:55:04) capitalist: can i sue mexamax?
(12:55:08) confused_obama_voting_pal: absolutely
(12:55:26) confused_obama_voting_pal: u can sue anyone for anything
(12:55:28) confused_obama_voting_pal: NEWSFLASH
(12:55:38) confused_obama_voting_pal: will u win? who knows
(12:56:31) confused_obama_voting_pal: are you sure you're not mixing the term "legal" the same as "regulated"?
(12:56:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: they're two totally different things
(12:56:37) confused_obama_voting_pal: u realize that right?
(12:57:34) capitalist: yes
(12:57:43) capitalist: but regulation usually takes shape as laws
(12:57:58) confused_obama_voting_pal: ok tiny i gotta get back to work
(12:58:01) confused_obama_voting_pal: this is really no productive at all
(12:58:15) capitalist: well
(12:58:27) capitalist: ok
(13:01:16) capitalist: just remeber because you voted for obama doesnt mean every commy idea that comes down the pike is correct, free market capitalism built USA and is the answer, and governmetn intervetion is at root of almost all the fuckups
(13:01:28) confused_obama_voting_pal: dude, i so did not vote for obama, it was RP
(13:01:34) confused_obama_voting_pal: last time i checked, RP is Repub
(13:02:09) confused_obama_voting_pal: anyhow, i think the diff is that i'm really not a fanatic. i can agree with both sides, depending if i agree w/ the topic or not
(13:02:29) confused_obama_voting_pal: you on other hand, are so fanatic and so emotional that you defy logic. and more importantly you argue without knowing any of the facts
(13:02:38) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's really frustrating to argue w/ someone like that
(13:02:43) capitalist: http://www.aynrand.org/site/News2?page=NewsArticle&id=21923&news_iv_ctrl=2403
(13:02:52) capitalist: I am anything but empotional
(13:02:55) capitalist: you keep sayign that
(13:03:00) capitalist: Im trying to get at ideas
(13:03:09) confused_obama_voting_pal: well the thing is that's great, but it's not an idea
(13:03:13) capitalist: I sincerel think obama is ruinign this country
(13:03:15) confused_obama_voting_pal: things that hve already happened aren't "ideas"
(13:03:28) capitalist: overspedning which mean raising tax burden sky high, and destroying the middle class
(13:03:29) confused_obama_voting_pal: knowing that lehman wasn't an UNREGULATED bank, isn't an IDEA!
(13:03:31) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's a KNOWN!
(13:03:44) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's like saying "i'm trying to grasp the idea that a dog is a mammal!"
(13:03:49) confused_obama_voting_pal: wtf! dog IS MAMMAL and that's just fact
(13:03:59) confused_obama_voting_pal: you can' t GRASp idea. u just either do or you are illogical
(13:04:16) confused_obama_voting_pal: and then trying to make arguments when you had no idea that dog was mammal , is so absurd that it's frustrating
(13:04:46) confused_obama_voting_pal: it's like u are sooo far behind the curve, how can anyone help!
(13:04:55) confused_obama_voting_pal: that's like saying "what recession?"
(13:05:14) confused_obama_voting_pal: remember what i told you before tiny.. you have to be ahead of the curve
(13:05:24) confused_obama_voting_pal: u don't want to be ON the curve or far worse BEHIND the curve
(13:05:33) confused_obama_voting_pal: right now, you are so behind the curve, it's almost hopeless
(13:05:57) confused_obama_voting_pal: anyway, gotta do work
(13:07:05) capitalist: its all in your mind im behind anything
(13:07:12) confused_obama_voting_pal: ok leave it at that
(13:07:13) confused_obama_voting_pal: i got work to do
(13:07:23) capitalist: but i think 90% cap gain a mistake
(13:07:27) capitalist: ;)
(13:07:41) capitalist: insurance and banks are scum
(13:07:51) capitalist: if one industry to destroy=insurance
(13:08:11) capitalist: and if governmetn was only bank maybe good but maby nazi germany
(13:08:13) capitalist: who knows
(13:10:53) capitalist: besides your work should all be reusible object by now
(13:10:56) capitalist: ;)
(13:11:26) capitalist: obama spedn when doesnt have tax income = new tax, interests enslaving the people
(13:11:34) capitalist: mccain would have done less damage
$

Stop Blaming Capitalism for Government Failures

Stop Blaming Capitalism for Government Failures

By Yaron Brook and Don Watkins (November 13, 2008)

Speaking of the financial crisis, French president Nicolas Sarkozy recently said, “Laissez-faire is finished. The all-powerful market that always knows best is finished.”

Sarkozy was echoing the views of many, including president-elect Obama, who assume that the financial crisis was caused by free markets--by “unbridled greed” unleashed by decades of deregulation and a “hands off” approach to the economy. And given this premise, the solution, they say, is obvious. To solve this crisis and prevent another one, we need a heavy dose of Uncle Sam’s elixir: government intervention. Whether it’s more bailouts, stricter regulation, a new round of nationalizations, or some other scheme, the only question since day one has been how, not whether, government is going to intervene.

And the issue is wider than the financial crisis. Millions of Americans don’t have health insurance? Well, says Obama, that’s because we’ve left the health-care system to the free market. The solution: a complete government takeover of medicine. A few companies engaged in accounting fraud? It must be because we didn’t impose enough regulations on businessmen. The solution: rein in corporations with Sarbanes-Oxley.

But while capitalism may be a convenient scapegoat, it did not cause any of these problems. Indeed, whatever one wishes to call the unruly mixture of freedom and government controls that made up our economic and political system during the last three decades, one cannot call it capitalism.

Take a step back. In the lead up to the “Reagan Revolution,” the explosive growth of government during the ’60s and ’70s had left the American economy in disarray. A crushing tax burden, runaway inflation, brutal unemployment, and economic stagnation had Americans looking for an alternative. That’s what Reagan offered, denouncing big government and promising a new “morning in America.”

Under Reagan, some taxes were reduced, inflation was subdued, a few regulations were relaxed--and the economy roared back to life. But while markets were able to function to a greater degree than in the immediate past, the regulatory and welfare state remained largely untouched, with government spending continuing to increase, as well as some taxes. Later administrations were even worse. Bush Jr., often laughably called a champion of free markets, presided over massive new governmental controls like Sarbanes-Oxley and massive new welfare programs like the prescription drug benefit.

None of this is consistent with capitalism. As the economic system that fully recognizes and protects individual rights, including the right to private property, capitalism means, in Ayn Rand’s words, “the abolition of any and all forms of government intervention in production and trade, the separation of State and Economics, in the same way and for the same reasons as the separation of Church and State.” Laissez-faire means laissez-faire: no welfare state entitlements, no Federal Reserve monetary manipulation, no regulatory bullying, no controls, no government interference in the economy. The government’s job under capitalism is single but crucial: to protect individual rights from violation by force or fraud.

America came closest to this system in the latter half of the nineteenth century. The result was an unprecedented explosion of wealth creation and consequent rise in the standard of living. Even now, when the fading remnants of capitalism are badly crippled by endless controls, we see that the freest countries--those which retain the most capitalist elements--have the highest standard of living.

Why then should capitalism take the blame today--when capitalism doesn’t even exist? Consider the current crisis. The causes are complex, but the driving force is clearly government intervention: the Fed keeping interest rates below the rate of inflation, thus encouraging people to borrow and providing the impetus for a housing bubble; the Community Reinvestment Act, which forces banks to lend money to low-income and poor-credit households; the creation of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac with government-guaranteed debt leading to artificially low mortgage rates and the illusion that the financial instruments created by bundling them are low risk; government-licensed rating agencies, which gave AAA ratings to mortgage-backed securities, creating a false sense of confidence; deposit insurance and the “too big to fail” doctrine, whose bailout promises have created huge distortions in incentives and risk-taking throughout the financial system; and so on. In the face of this long list, who can say with a straight face that the housing and financial markets were frontiers of “cowboy capitalism”?

This is just the latest example of a pattern that has been going on since the rise of capitalism: capitalism is blamed for the ills of government intervention--and then even more government intervention is proposed as the cure. The Great Depression? Despite massive evidence that the Federal Reserve’s and other government policies were responsible for the crash and the inability of the economy to recover, it was laissez-faire that was blamed. Consequently, in the aftermath, the government’s power over the economy was not curtailed but dramatically expanded. Or what about the energy crisis of the 1970s? Despite compelling evidence that it was brought on by monetary inflation exacerbated by the abandonment of the remnants of the gold standard, and made worse by prices controls, “greedy” oil companies were blamed. The prescribed “solution” was for the government to exert even more control.

It’s time to stop blaming capitalism for the sins of government intervention, and give true laissez-faire a chance. Now that would be a change we could believe in.

Yaron Brook is the president of the Ayn Rand Center for Individual Rights. Don Watkins is a writer at the Ayn Rand Center. The Ayn Rand Center is a division of the Ayn Rand Institute and promotes the philosophy of Ayn Rand, author of “Atlas Shrugged” and “The Fountainhead.”

enable superpages on freebsd

# cat /boot/loader.conf
vm.pmap.pg_ps_enabled=1

Sunday, August 30, 2009

the-dark-crystal

http://nifty.bunkhouse.com/nifty/transgender/Magic-ScFi/the-dark-crystal

From alt.sex.stories.tg Fri Jan 17 09:58:23 1997
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~From: suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de (Michael Suelmann)
~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
~Subject: TG: The Dark Crystal by Olivia Evans parts 1-2
~Date: Mon, 13 Jan 97 02:58:43
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I didn't write this and don't know how to reach the author.
TG, sf, adult, pregnant, pre-teen (no sex), sex-change (sf) §§§§§§§§§

The Dark Crystal
by Olivia Evans

Part 1

Chapter One:

"Oh, God that feels so good..." The beautiful young woman moaned as she felt
the surprisingly hot, thick shaft slowly enter her.

She opened her eyes in the dimly lit room to look at her partner, trying to
imagine the face of the current video star on the blank, mask like face of
the android which had just so exquisitely penetrated her.

The Surrogate Sex Partner may have been the greatest invention ever made, but
it didn't look like the man it felt like. Of course, it had been designed
that way, allowing the owner to imagine that it was anyone she desired.

No, she thought, its better with my eyes closed.

She closed her eyes again, preferring the mental image her mind provided her,
as the android began its rhythmic thrusting. At least it felt like a real
person, especially down below where it counted the most. And right now
feeling was so much better than seeing anyway.

"Slower.., and a little deeper," she whispered, wrapping her long slender
legs around the warm body of the tireless android and pulling it tighter
against herself. The thrusts of the artificial penis slowed down slightly
and went deeper into the warm moist cavity of the woman's vagina as the
android accommodated her command.

"Oh, yes....yes, ahhhh, yes," the young woman moaned and opened her eyes
again, not seeing the dull flesh colored tones of the synthetic covering of
the android, as she surrendered herself completely to her mounting passion.

She slowly, deliciously, approached the threshold of her climax, her first
ever. Hopefully it would be one of those multiple orgasms that she had read
about so many times.

"A little faster...," the woman gasped. The android increased its speed to
met her increasingly urgent demands. "Oh,yesss..... I'm commming NOW!"

The android, responding to the command code, thrust as deep as its artificial
penis would allow and shot a pulsating stream of warm, almost hot, liquid
deep into the woman's body. It was as close to duplicating the feel of a
man's ejaculation as modern science could devise.

To the young woman's inexperienced body, it wasn't close, it was perfect!

As the hot liquid splashed against her waiting cervix, coherent speech or
thought became impossible as she suddenly exploded through the threshold of
mere pleasure and into a series of orgasms that flowed through her body with
wave after wave sheer ecstasy.

The android's programmed thrusts slowed and stopped briefly, allowing the
young woman's momentarily overloaded senses to cool down a little before
beginning the cycle again.

The woman closed her eyes and gently embraced the android's warm back,
savoring the still firm penis inside of her. It was as good... no, it was
BETTER than she could have ever imagined.

As her exhausted body slowly descended from her passion, she found herself
debating if her body could stand another session with the SSP android.

She had just reached the conclusion that it would, when the dim lights of the
room sudden brightened to their full intensity, bringing an equally sudden
squeal of panic from the young woman.

In the full light of the room, the harsh reality of the mechanical device
made her lusty coitus seem less romantic, almost sleazy and cheap. Her
passion rapidly diminishing, she pushed the unresisting android away just as
the door opened and an older woman stepped in.

"Mom...I, uh..." the young woman stammered when she saw an older woman
standing in the doorway. The girl, who just moments before had been at the
zenith of her ecstasy, abruptly felt ashamed at what she had just done.

The older woman cooly surveyed the two occupants of the room. The android
she ignored, it was just a machine, and concentrated her attention on the
frightened girl laying sprawled on the floor. She looked about nineteen or
twenty, very well built and very attractive.

There was no question in the older woman's mind of what had just occurred,
she could smell the sweet musk of the girl's passion in the air. It WAS the
girl's of course, androids don't smell, not even the custom designed deluxe
models known as Surrogate Sex Partners.

The stunned young woman glanced down at her nakedness and abruptly brought
her legs together and tried to covered her firm breasts with her hands. Both
knew that the demure gesture was too little, too late.

"Would you care to explain yourself young man?" the older woman asked after a
long pregnant pause.

"Uh, Mom... I was just messing around, and I, uh got carried away...and I,
uh..," the young woman stammered nervously in her soft feminine voice. She
knew that she was in real trouble.

"So I see...,." the older woman said, then sighed. Her heavy sigh of dismay
said far more than her words.

It wasn't the fact that her son had used the SSP for sexual stimulation, that
WAS, after all, exactly what they were designed for. It wasn't even that he
had used it rather than a real partner, for his first sexual experience.
Experimentation with sex at his age was natural, she knew.

It was just that she wished he'd done his experimentation in his true gender,
a male, rather than as a female.

Of course, that may have been her own fault, she hadn't thought that he would
reach this stage quite so soon, and hadn't thought to include a female SSP in
the small star ship's equipment list when they started the journey. When her
son discovered her unfortunate omission, he had used the changer, a small
device originally intended to adapt a humanoid for survival or life in
hostile environments, to change his sex.

"You realize that your father will have to be told about this when we arrive
home don't you?" the older woman said sternly. The young woman cringed.

"But Mom, please don't. He -- he wouldn't understand."

The older woman smiled to herself. Her son was right, her straight laced
husband wouldn't understand, fortunately she did, she liked a little variety
in sex herself. Especially when her husband wasn't home. What he didn't
know...

"I know I shouldn't have used the SSP without your permission. I'm really
sorry, mom," the girl said fighting back her tears.

"Alright, I'll make you a deal," the older woman said. "If you behave
yourself for the rest of the trip, we'll just forget this happened, alright?"

Sensing that her sentence of disclosure to her father had been suspended, the
young woman allowed herself to relax a bit. "I promise Mom, I'll behave
myself."

The older woman looked sternly at her transformed son for a moment longer.
She knew that he would keep his word, but just wanted to give the impression
that she was debating his answer. Finally after what seemed forever to the
young woman, she sighed.

"Alright, I guess that I'll have to trust..."

There was a loud bang and a sudden jerking motion to the normally stable
floor. Both mother and son listened for a second, waiting to hear the
dreaded hiss of escaping air. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, the
mother continued, knowing that the sturdy ship would hold for a moment. "As
I was saying, I guess that I'll just have to trust you to keep your word."

"I will Mom. Honest," the young girl said sincerely as she slowly stood up.
Her son's female body was as tall as she was, with long shapely legs, large
full breasts and soft voluptuous curves that made her almost envious of her
son's youth. The blue eyed blonde's hair, styled in a "ship's cut", was
short, almost too short for a female, but necessary for ship board life. To
compensate for the short hair, the girl had pierced her ears and was wearing
gold hoop earrings.

She wondered where he had found the pattern to copy it from, unaware that he
had fed a hologram copy of a model in an advertisements he'd found in an old
story cube. An advertisement made before the current fad of stick thin, flat
chested girls became popular.

"Humph, well, we'll see, Dear. Now go clean up and change," she paused and
smiled thoughtfully. "Unless you would rather remain in that body until we
reach home?"

"Uh, no. I don't think I want to be a female any longer," the girl looked
embarrassed at the thought, even though the changer had include a mood
alteration program to ease the abrupt adjustment to prevent that very
reaction.

"No?" the mother raised her eyebrow.

"No," the girl said more firmly, "I think that I like being a boy better,
it's uh, more convenient."

"Except when you want to experiment a little, right, honey?" the mother
teased. The young woman's blush grew deeper. "Pity you won't change your
mind. You did a really good job on yourself. You're a very attractive young
lady."

"Aww, Mom," the chagrined young woman said, still blushing bright red, but in
some strange way feeling very pleased by the compliment. She squeezed by her
mother and out into the short passage way to her cabin.

The older woman watched the naked young woman as she walked barefoot down the
passage way, her hips swaying in time with her long blonde hair.

He certainly has an interesting taste in what he considered to be the perfect
female form, she thought smiling to herself. A little busty, but that was
understandable in a boy his age, they had no idea how much of a pain large
breasts could literally be.

Shaking her head in amusement at the unconscious wiggle in her son's soft
broad hips, the older woman turned to go in the other direction toward the
control room. She had to find out what had caused the sudden jolt a few
minutes ago. She hoped that it wasn't anything too serious.

"MOM! Come here! Quick!"

Alarmed by the tone of fear in her transfigured son's feminine voice, she
abruptly turned and rushed to his side.

"Look!", the young woman said shakily, pointing a long slender finger at a
recessed control panel next to his closed and sealed compartment door.

Red lights lit up the panel. They should have been all green, the mother
knew. Seeing the solid red panel confused her for a moment, if there had
been a loss of air only one or two red lights would have been lit. But all
of them? What did that mean? She didn't know and it scared her.

Both mother and transformed son rushed to the control room, neither paying
any attention to the nakedness of the younger.

The mother sat down in one of the two chairs fixed to the floor in front of
the master panel. She flipped a switch and looked at a dark screen
expectantly. It flickered brightly then went dark again.

"Shit," she swore, flipping another switch. The screen remained dark.

"What's happening Mom?" the young woman asked, sensing her mother's
apprehension.

"The visual monitors in your cabin are dead as are the other sensors. Short
of forcing the door open, there's only one other..."

She flipped another switch and the screen, filled with stars, lit up a second
later. Grunting softly in satisfaction that the ship hadn't lost all of its
visual monitors, the mother twisted a small knob. As they watched, the stars
began to move.

"This one's mounted on the strut right below your cabin honey. Maybe we can
see something from outside..," Her voice trailed off as a huge hole in the
side of the ship came into view.

"Son of a Bitch! Look at the size of that hole!"

"Don't swear darling," the mother said automatically. She punched a few
buttons on the flight computer, and waited while the machine ran a diagnostic
check of the ship.

She wanted to chew her knuckles while during the dreadfully long wait. She
wanted to, but refrained, knowing that her son was already very close to
panic. She bit her lower lip instead and wondered what had happened and
where the missing compartment had gone. She was just beginning to taste
blood when the computer completed its check and chimed.

She quickly scanned the reports and relaxed slightly. Some FO (foreign
object), a piece of space junk probably, had hit the ship with enough force
to rip part of it away.

It was serious but not life threatening, and repairable. The ship had been
designed for mishaps exactly like this, after all.

The worse part was that they would have to slow the ship's speed to about
half. Half speed, when talking faster than light speeds didn't double their
travel time, it extended it by a factor of four or slightly more than six
months. Air, food and water were not a problem, so she wasn't concerned
about that, it was the extra time she minded.

It could have been worse, she knew, much worse, the part that had been lost
had been her son's compartment. It was lucky that he'd been in the exercise
room getting laid.... Exactly what she planned for herself, as soon as the
repairs had been made. Getting laid by an SSP was the second best way to
relieve tension she knew of.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. As calmly as she could she turned to her
sexy looking son. "Darling, where did you, uh.. change before you..."

"In my compartment. Why?" the young woman asked not immediately connecting
the question and the jagged hole in the side of the ship. Her mother nodded
toward the monitor.

"If I'd been in there when..," the girl said relieved that she had been
occupied else where. A look of horror crossed the young woman's face when
she realized that the only changer on board had been in the missing
compartment.

"The changer...," she whispered.

"It's gone, Honey. I'm sorry," her mother stroked her transformed son's soft
blonde hair as the young girl burst into tears. Seeing the look of distress
on her son's attractive face, she smiled ruefully. "Honey, there are a lot
worse things to be right now than a healthy young female that's still alive."

"But mom, I don't want to be a female for the next six months," the girl
said, trying unsuccessfully to fight back her tears.

Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. You'll just have to remain a
female until we get home. Now stop your crying, we've got work to do so we
CAN get home. "

The young woman nodded and sniffed her running nose a few times. As
embarrassing as the thought that she would have to remain a girl for the rest
of the voyage was, it took a distant second to the safety of the ship and
themselves.

"Okay Mom, what do we need to do first?"

The older woman glanced at the status reports on the computer screen again.
Repairs were necessary, but the situation wasn't life threatening. They
didn't need to hurry.

"First thing we need to do is find some clothing for that sexy body of
your's," she smiled, eyeing her son's shapely body. "I think I can alter a
few pairs of my ship's coveralls to fit. But girl, where are we going to
find a bra big enough to hold those boobs of your's?"

"A bra?"

"Darling, I think that you'll find that what some men find most attractive
about a woman, a large bust, isn't necessarily the most comfortable thing in
the world. Especially when the boobs are hanging from your own chest."

The young woman looked down at her large, well formed breasts. She cupped
them in her hands as though she was trying to estimate their weight. When
the SSP had been playing with the astonishingly sensitive mounds of flesh she
had actually wished that they had been even bigger. She almost regretted her
rash impulse when she modified the changer's program to increase the size of
the model's big boobs.

A small part of her mind however, remembered the phenomenal sensations the
SSP had aroused when it expertly fondled her large breasts. In spite of her
desire to return to her own male body, she could feel a small tingle of
anticipation in her nipples at the thought of six more months of pleasure.

"It's going to be a long trip home," the girl sighed, wondering if the
android would survive the trip as well.

Her mother couldn't agree with her son more, it was going to be a long trip.
She just hoped that the sanitary supplies on board were sufficient for two
females.

--O--O--O--

It was a concern that she really didn't have to worry about.

Her husband had been unsuccessfully trying to get her to have another child
for years. She had always refused saying that it had taken this long for her
to regain her figure after having their son.

"If you want another child so much, then why don't YOU have it! Either that
or talk your mistress into getting pregnant!" She had coldly told her husband
several days before she and her son had departed to see her mother. She
threw her stunned husband another cold look and stormed out of the room,
leaving him to wonder how she had found out about his mistress.

Me have it indeed! her husband thought, and after she had agreed to be the
sole mother of the family! Harumph! We'll just see about that!

Unknown to either herself or her son, her husband, who knew that his wife
rarely took her birth control injections when she went to see her parents,
had secretly substituted a number of vials of frozen semen for the normally
inert liquid the SSP used to simulate ejaculation.

The semen would be injected into his wife beginning with third time she used
the services of the SSP and would continue to do so until it ran out. He had
calculated that by the time his wife used the SSP for the third time,
sufficient time for his wife's injections to wear off would have passed and
she would be fertile again.

He had smiled in satisfaction when his wife and son took off, gleefully aware
that when they returned, his wife would be pregnant again and he would have
his wish for another son.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been his wife, but his transformed son who had used
the SSP for the third time on the trip.

--O--O--O--

After an initial awkward period, the two lonely women took turns using the
SSP almost daily. It was going to be a long trip and they had to have
something to amuse them. For a while, the SSP did the job quite nicely.

It was well over two months later that the supply of frozen semen finally ran
out. By then it was too late for either of the two fertile females.

Although his mother had fallen victim to her husband's rather nasty plot
later the same day of the accident, his transformed son had been the first to
be impregnated.

By the time the small ship reached the parking cradle at their home slightly
over six months after the accidents, the two female occupants were very
pregnant and very angry at being used in such a manner, unintentional as it
may have been for one of them.

They were determined to even the score with their husband/father. They had
discussed it at length during the trip after they had discovered their
startling condition. They knew exactly what they wanted to do and how they
would do it.

It was two months after they had returned home before they decided it was
time to initiate their revenge on their husband/father. The mother mixed the
drug that would ensure her husband would sleep the night through.

They waited until he was asleep and used a changer on him, Not to change him
completely into a female, but giving him a set of ovaries and a uterus, a
womb of his own.

That wasn't all they needed to have their revenge, however.

The second stage came when they re-adjusted the carefully worked out settings
of the changer and re-routed a single small tube attached to one of his
testicles. It now no longer entered his prostrate gland but lead directly
into his new womb. Another tube was attached leading from one of the ovaries
back into his prostrate gland. An ovum being released would have to pass
through the sperm rich gland before passing thorough the urethra.

The whole operation took less than two minutes, and they were satisfied that
they had managed the changes without either his knowledge or changing the
outward appearance of his now highly modified but still functional male
organs.

Now, whenever he had sex with his mistress, the chances that an egg would be
fertilized and planted were doubled. Their revenge would also be doubled.

Mother and son watched late one night, just before the birth of their babies,
as their sex starved father/husband sneaked out of the house to see his
mistress. Satisfied that it would be only a matter of time, they returned to
their rooms and waited for the birth of their babies and the results of their
careful planning.

Neither were aware that they unknowing made him one of the most famous men in
the history of the Galaxy. Nor would they have cared if they had know.

He was the first, but strangely not the last, male to follow that age old
insult, "Go fuck yourself!" to it's ultimate conclusion by giving birth to
triplets!

His mistress, who had thought she had been safe with her birth control
injections, had been just as surprised to find her own stomach starting to
swell along with her lover's. She gave birth to twins three days later.

--O--O--O--

The compartment, along with the FO that had removed it from the ship with
almost surgical precision, fell toward the blue-green planet and established
a decaying orbit.

Dropping lower with each revolution, it took nearly a year to touch the upper
most reaches of the atmosphere. The foreign object, just a chunk of rock
really, burned up almost immediately.

The compartment and it's contents was better protected by the outer hull as
it rapidly reached the melting point of ordinary steel. Designed for high
temperature approaches the metal reached that point and more.

It might have landed in one piece except for one thing, the protection was
mainly on one side of the tumbling mass. As the less well protected sides of
the compartment hit the air stream in turn, the compartment started to
disintegrate.

By an odd quirk of fate (and fortunately for our story) the device that had
changed a young man into a voluptuous young woman landed undamaged on a
stretch of beach not far from a small vacation home.


The Dark Crystal

Part 2

Chapter Two:

"Gee, Daddy look at that one!" the young boy exclaimed excitedly as the last
dying embers of the compartment streaked across the sky.

"That sure was a big one, wasn't Daddy?" the young boy's older sister said
echoing her brother's excitement.

"Sure was, Honey," their father said. He leaned against the back of the
beach chair he was sitting in and looked affectionately at his two children.

Right at this moment, John Robbins considered himself to be the luckiest man
alive. He had his own business that was doing well enough for him to rent a
very expensive beach house for a two week vacation, a beautiful wife, Karen
who hadn't lost any of her beauty in over eight years of marriage and, in
some ways best of all, two wonderful children.

Christopher, or Chris as he was usually called was five, and had fine blond
hair like his father, his sister Wendy, also blonde and just barely seven,
were both bright, healthy and energetic kids who actually liked each other.
A sharp contrast to his own childhood where it seemed that he and his sisters
were always competing with each other.

John looked at the dying embers of the camp fire they had built to warm the
cool night air and sighed. It was time to go back inside.

"Okay, guys, time to go inside." When the expected chorus protests died down,
John repeated the command. "It's past your bedtimes. Now I don't want any
arguments tonight."

Knowing he was right, after all children of seven and five do wear themselves
out once in awhile, the two youngster started to pick up the towels they had
been sitting on.

John folded up the beach chair and looked out at the moonlit ocean. A light
breeze was starting to come in from off shore, a gentle forewarning of the
heavy storm that had been predicted for the next day.

He glanced at the still glowing coals of their fire. He didn't think that
there would be any danger of the fire spreading, but just to be on the safe
side...

"Chris? Why don't you get your bucket and bring some water back to throw on
the fire?"

Christopher, obviously beaming with pride that he'd been given a "man's" job,
picked up his sand bucket and ran down to the gently rolling surf a short
distance away. John watched in the moonlight to make sure his son was safe
as he waded out a few feet and scooped up a bucket of water.

When Chris was safely back on the sandy beach, John turned his attention
toward Wendy, who was carefully folding up the towels. Had he been watching
his son, he would have notice him stop, pick up a small object from the sand
and place it in the pocket of his shorts.

"Is that enough water, Daddy? Or should I go get some more?" Chris asked as
he carefully poured the bucket of water on the hissing embers.

John stirred the now cold embers with a stick. Detecting no signs of live
coals, he shook his head. "Just enough partner, the fire is now officially
-- out!"

His pronouncement brought cheers from his two companions.

"Okay, guys, let's go see if Mom has made us that hot chocolate she
promised." John grinned to himself as the two excited youngsters ran
screaming in delighted anticipation of the promised hot chocolate.

As the little family of four sat at the table sipping the hot chocolate, it
was obvious to the two adults that there wouldn't be any arguments about
going to bed this night. Both kids were fighting to keep their eyes open.

"Maybe we should just skip the showers tonight," John suggested to no one in
particular.

"Not on your life," Karen interjected. "I just put clean sheets on and I'd
like to have at least one day without beach sand in the beds."

"Okay, who gets the first shower?" John sighed, knowing that his wife was
right. The question usually brought on a round of "Me's", tonight however,
Wendy deferred to her younger brother.

"Chris can go first, he's more tireder than me," she said stating the
obvious.

"Chris it is then! Okay partner, time to drink up and head for the showers,"
John told his young son. Chris, too tired to argue went toward the bathroom.

"I'll go turn on the water for him," Karen said rising from her chair to
follow her son.

"While you're doing that, I'll wash out the cups," John said picking up the
empty cups from the table.

In the bathroom, Karen turned on the water and adjusted the temperature of
the shower. That was the main reason she'd offered to turn on the shower,
she didn't want either of her children to become scalded by water that was
too hot. Wendy could adjust the water by herself, and normally Chris could
too, but tonight he was so tired that he was almost walking in his sleep.

She watched her young son as he first pulled his t-shirt over his head then
pulled his shorts off. His clothing, clean when he had changed just after
dinner, now looked pretty grungy. It was amazing that little boys could get
so dirty in such a few short hours. The start of another wash load she
sighed, picking up the soiled clothing.

Out of habit gained through long experience with John she automatically felt
the pocket of the shorts. She had found some amazing stuff in Chris's
pockets at times, nothing as exotic as a dead frog yet, but then again, he
was still young.

Her hand closed on a solid feeling cylindrical object about the size of a
tube of lipstick. Curious what he had found this time, Karen removed it and
glanced briefly at the quartz crystal like object. Thinking it was another
rock that he had found for his current hobby, she placed it on the edge of
the sink.

"Okay Chris, time to get out so your sister can get in."

Chris obediently got out of the shower and stood still while his mother
rubbed him briskly with a towel. She handed him his pajamas and waited while
he pulled them on.

Satisfied that he could navigate the short distance to the bedroom he shared
with his sister, Karen called for Wendy.

Chris, with his eyes half closed, headed toward the bathroom door, picking up
the object he'd found on the beach as he passed by the sink. Not having any
pockets in his pajamas, he carried it in his hand until he reached his bed.
Carefully depositing the crystal safely under his pillow, Chris climbed into
the twin sized bed and almost instantly fell asleep.

A short while later, his sister also freshly showered entered the bedroom
wearing a long cotton nightgown and crawled into her own bed. She too, fell
asleep almost instantly.

Their mother stuck her head inside the room and watched her two sleeping
children for a second before smiling and closing the door.

--O--O--O--

"You know honey, I've been thinking," Karen said snuggling closer to John on
the couch and stared into the fireplace at the small fire.

The fire in the fireplace was just large enough to take the slight ocean
chill out of the room. They'd both had a glass of wine after the children
had gone to bed and Karen was obviously in a cuddly mood.

"About what dear?" John raised his eyebrow and looked wearily at his wife.
When she started a conversation like that it generally meant more work for
him. The last time had been to remodel their kitchen. They ate out a lot
during that project.

"Oh, nothing much in particular," John knew he was really in trouble now.
"It's just that I've been doing a lot of thinking about you and the
children."

John waited in silence wondering where this strange conversation was leading.

"I've been thinking about how lucky I am to have someone like you for a
husband. You're a good father to the children, handsome, strong and terrific
in bed. And how good our children are."

"Most of the time," John interjected with a smile. Karen nodded her head in
agreement.

"Wouldn't be nice if we had another baby, say maybe another girl?"

The question didn't exactly take John by surprise, he was observant enough to
see the signs that she wanted another baby. Not that they were all that
subtle, Karen would stop and admire every baby within two hundred feet when
ever they went out shopping. Either that or she would look enviously at
every pregnant woman that she saw.

"I suppose that another girl would be nice, but how about giving the other
side another player and have a boy instead?"

Karen sat upright and smiled at her husband. "Do you mean that you're saying
yes?"

"Well, I don't know, I mean can we afford it?" John said as though he was
thinking out loud. "I suppose that we could sell the car to pay the doctor
and maybe we might have to go on welfare for a few months to buy baby
clothing, or I could find a night job as well as the business..."

Karen listen to her husband for a few seconds before she realized she was
being teased. She playfully punched her husband on his broad shoulder,
bringing a pained sounding "Ouch".

"Just for that lady, I'm going to punish you."

"Oh, how?" Karen raised an eyebrow.

John stood and loomed over his wife sitting on the couch. He reached down
and picked her up easily and started to walk to the bedroom. "How am I going
to punish you, you ask? Easy, I'm going to take you to our bedroom, throw
you on the bed and ravish you until you're either pregnant or I die of
exhaustion! Since you're on the pill, I have a feeling that the latter will
happen first."

Karen gave a little squeal of delighted anticipation. She wondered when she
would tell him that she had already decided to have another baby and had been
off the Pill for nearly two weeks. She kissed her husband and laid her head
on his shoulder as he carried her easily in his strong arms toward the
bedroom.

Tomorrow would be soon enough, she decided, after she had been sufficiently
ravished, of course.

--O--O--O--

Karen smiled at her husband's sleeping form. Exhaustion had hit him after
the second round of making love.

Right after they had finished, Karen normally would go to the bathroom to
allow the excess semen to drain before going to sleep.

Tonight however, as she had when they had conceived Wendy and Chris, she had
pulled on the tightest pair of panties she owned and left the pillow under
her hips. She wanted as much of John to remain in her as long as possible.
Knowing that sperm can stay alive for up to 48 hours in a woman's vagina, she
figured that morning would be enough time for one of the little wigglers to
reach its target.

She stroked her husband's strong back affectionately one last time before
falling asleep.
--O--O--O--

John was awakened out of a sound sleep by a small hand shaking him on the
shoulder. Prying one sleep filled eye open, he recognized the small shadowy
figure as his son, Chris.

"Daddy, wake up.... Daddy, wake up," Chris repeated.

"What's the matter Chris?"

"I have to go to the bathroom and I can't find it," the small boy said
urgently.

"Chris I'm surprised at you. You know where the bathroom is."

"But Daddy, please..." Chris's voice was urgent.

"Okay partner, I'll help you find it," John sighed, getting out of bed and
pulling on the shorts he'd worn the day before. He did it as quietly as
possible not wanting to awaken Karen, unaware that like most mothers she had
awaken at the first sound of her son's voice.

Chris grabbed his father's hand and allowed himself to be lead to the
bathroom. John flipped on the light and was surprised to see that the small
foot stool Chris used to stand on when he went to the bathroom was already
positioned in front of the toilet.

"Okay, Chris here you are. Now hop up on the stool, pull your pants down and
let's take care of business. I would like to get some sleep tonight."

Chris stepped onto the stool with an urgency that confirmed his need to
urinate. John watched as his son pulled his pajama bottoms down and reach
down to aim.

"I still can't find it!" Chris started to cry.

John started to say that the toilet was right in front of him, when his sleep
dulled mind suddenly realized Chris had been referring to something else.

John stepped beside his son and looked down at his son's groin.

--O--O--O--

In the bedroom Karen had been half awake, listening to John and Chris in the
bathroom. When she heard the strained, "Please Daddy hurry! I really have
to go." coming from her young son, she had the feeling that something wasn't
right.

She heard the toilet seat being put down and a bare second later, a stream of
urine hitting the water in the toilet. She relaxed momentarily, starting to
drift back to sleep.

Her sense that something was dreadfully wrong slammed back into her mind when
she heard her husband, more stressed than she'd ever heard him before, give
the terse commands, "Now use a wad of toilet paper to wipe yourself... No,
the other way, from back to front.... That's right...."

Suddenly more curious than concerned, Karen got out of bed and tip-toed to
the bathroom. Standing just out side the door, she looked in. Chris was
sitting on the toilet wiping himself, but he was reaching down between his
legs rather than from the rear as he usually did when he needed toilet paper.

She glanced at her husband. She couldn't see his face but could tell by the
way he was standing that he was upset about something. Upset or not, he was
obviously trying hard not to show it in front of Chris.

"All done?" John asked, his voice close to the verge of cracking.

Karen shifted her attention back to her son who had nodded and was just
beginning to stand. She followed his movements as he reached down to pull up
his pajama bottoms.

She suddenly checked the face of her child again, not sure if hadn't actually
been Wendy rather than Chris who had come in to the bedroom.

It was her son, but somehow in the short period of time between when he had
taken his shower and now, he had lost his penis and testicles! His
adolescent hairless groin now was a virtual duplicate of his sister's!

"Okay partner, wash your hands and go back to bed," John said looking even
paler than he had a few minutes ago. Chris obediently washed and dried his
hands and started to leave the bathroom. He walked out the door and bumped
into his mother who had been standing just outside the door in stunned
silence.

"Love you, Mommy," Chris said as he gave his mother a hug around her legs.

Karen resisted the strong urge to grab her son's crotch to confirm what she
thought she had just seen. It was all she could to find her voice to answer,
"Love you too honey."

Chris released his mother and continued on his way to his room and back to
bed, neither noticing or caring that his mother was wearing nothing but a
pair of bikini panties that were slightly damp in the crotch.

"John? John, did I just see what I thought I saw?" Karen whispered to her
husband. He had been standing frozen in place just staring at the toilet.

"I hope to God that this is just a bad dream," John said more to himself than
to his wife.

Sensing that he was going to start crying, Karen stepped into the bathroom
and closed the door. "John? What happened? Did Chris injure himself or
something?"

John shook his head, what he'd seen, what they had both seen, had looked
perfectly natural, if they had been looking at their daughter rather than
there son.

"No, I think that something has somehow changed him into a girl."

"A girl?" Karen asked bewildered and stunned by her husband's confirmation of
what she'd seen herself. "But how, why?"

For the first time since she had known John, he didn't have a logical
explanation.

Karen shivered, not sure if it was from the cold or from shock. "Let's go
back to bed, honey. There's nothing we can do about it tonight."

John nodded numbly and allowed his wife to lead him back to their bed.


Chapter Three:

The only members of the Robbins family that got any sleep that night were
Wendy and her now transformed brother Chris.

John and Karen had laid awake for most of the remainder of the night,
listening in silence to the wind. Karen got up once to go to the bathroom,
leaving her panties off when she return, her careful plans to conceive
another child forgotten for the moment.

Finally a bare hour before dawn, Karen broke the strained silence. "We'll
take him to the doctor in the village, maybe she'll have an answer."

"And if she doesn't?" John asked.

"Then we'll just have to take it from there."

--O--O--O--

When they finally awoke from their disturbed half sleep, it was late the next
morning and to the sounds of the television in the next room. John opened an
eye and peered at the alarm clock, it was after six.

He mentally calculated the amount of sleep he'd had, between making love to
his wife and taking Chris to the bathroom...

Chris! He jumped out of bed and hastily pulled his shorts on again. He
stopped his head long rush just before he entered the combination living room
dining room where the children were watching cartoons.

Not wanting to scare the kids, John walked as casually as he could into the
room. "Hi guys, up early again I see," he said. "Have anything to eat yet?"

Wendy pointed to the table, her eyes never leaving the television screen.
John glance at the table an saw the remains of the breakfast, cold cereal and
milk, the two had eaten. From the looks of it they had been up for at least
an hour.

John sat down on the couch, positioned so that he could observe his children
without being obvious about it. He carefully studied his son, trying to see
if last night had been nothing more than a bad dream after all.

Chris, wearing the shorts and t-shirt that was almost his summer uniform, was
sitting cross legged in front of the TV.

John couldn't tell, but he thought Chris looked a little smaller, a little
more delicate, more feminine than he had the day before. The most notable
change was his naturally blonde hair. It was a little darker, slightly
longer and much neater than normal. It looked almost as though he'd recently
had a haircut, a very expensive style from the look of it.

Over all, Chris looked so normal that John wasn't sure that the changes he
thought he saw were just products of a bad dream.

Wendy and John became aware of Karen standing behind him at the same time.

"Hi Mommy. Did you know that Chris lost his pee-pee and became a girl last
night?" Wendy innocently asked. Her casual remark hit the two adults like a
sledge hammer.

John could only stare at his son while Karen nodded and sat down heavily
beside her husband. "Yes dear, we know," she said softly as though she was
afraid the she would begin screaming. "We're going to have to take him to
the doctor because of it."

Chris glanced up at his parents and smiled, aware that he was the topic of
conversation, but not quite sure why they were making a fuss about it.

What was wrong with being a girl?, he had asked himself when Wendy had made
the discovery earlier that morning. After all, Wendy was a girl and she
didn't seem to mind it in the least. Besides, he liked his sister and
thought she was a neat person. He didn't mind the thought of being a girl,
if he could be just like her. Although the idea of having to sit to go to
the bathroom all the time made him feel a little funny. But that was alright
too he supposed, Wendy and Mommy both had to and it didn't seem to bother
them any.

"Chris, come here, please," Karen asked her son. Chris reluctantly rose from
his sitting position and walked to his mother still keeping one eye on the
television.

Karen pulled the small child into her lap and hugged him tightly. Tears
began to form in her eyes. Chris, surprised at the sudden tearful reaction,
reached up and wiped a tear away from her cheek.

"Why are you crying Mommy?" he asked. "Are you sad about something?" Karen
shook her head, unable to answer.

John watching the two feeling sick as his wife as looked at the moment.

"Chris, do you know what happened to you last night?"

"Sure," the child shrugged, looking at his father with large serious eyes.
"I became a girl just like Mommy and Wendy."

"What do you think --- how do you feel about it?" John, shaken by the casual
attitude of his transformed son, asked.

"Okay I guess," he said doubtfully. Chris looked up at his mother who by now
was crying harder. "Mommy, does this mean that I get to wear panties and
girl's stuff like dresses, just like Wendy does?"

"Until we can find a way to make you a boy again, I guess so," his mother
replied. Chris just nodded.

"Chris?" John waited until his son's attention was turned to him again. "I
want you to think carefully about what happened"

"Okay."

"Have you been taking any kind of pills? Say the ones in that pink plastic
container your mother keeps her birth control pills in?"

Wide eyed at the suggestion that he had done something like that, Chris shook
his head.

"John, that wouldn't have caused this and you know that Chris doesn't like to
take even baby aspirin. Besides, I ran out of birth control pills two weeks
ago."

John glanced at his wife, knowing she was right about Chris not liking to
take any kind of medication. He suddenly realized what she had just said.
"You ran out two weeks ago?"

"John, we'll talk about that later, okay?" Karen smiled faintly. John stared
at this wife for a moment and then turned his attention back to his son.

"Chris, do you have any idea how this happened to you?" John made one last
attempt, knowing that it was futile to ask a five year old boy how he had
changed over night into a girl.

Chris surprised him however. "Sure, I think the stone did it when I was
sleeping."

"Stone? What stone is that?"

"The one I found last night," Chris answered truthfully. "I think it's
magical," he added, his five year old mind trying to provide a rational
explanation to something that even he knew was impossible.

"The one you found last night?" John sat back and regarded his son for a
second, not sure if it was just another unusual piece of rock, his "magic"
stones, he was always collecting or that Chris had guessed correctly.

"Honey, were is this stone now?" Karen asked.

"Under my pillow?" he said doubtfully. He couldn't remember seeing it there
when he had gotten up. "Want me to go find it?"

"I'll go find it for you," John said when he saw his wife tighten her hold
around Chris, unwilling to give up the comfort of his warm little body. He
may have been transformed into a girl, but he was still her child and right
now he needed her, almost as much as she needed him.

John rose, walked into the children's bedroom and to Chris's bed. He picked
the pillow up and looked for the "magic" rock. The sheets were bare. John
got down on his hands and knees and searched under the bed, thinking that the
rock or what ever it was, had fallen off the bed during the night. Still
nothing.

Knowing that his son wouldn't lie to him, John ran his hand down between the
sheets of the rumpled bed. His fingers encountered a solid object. The
"magic" stone?, he wondered as he grasped it firmly and pulled it out of its
hiding place. He stepped over to the window, wanting to see it in the best
possible light.

Holding it in his hand, John careful inspected the object. For all intents
and purposes it looked like nothing more than a large piece of smoky colored
quartz crystal with gold wires wrapped tightly around one end. On the end
with the wires there was a small loop, about the diameter of a pencil
sticking out. It reminded him of a necklace he thought he had seen
somewhere.

Taking the crystal back to the living room, John sat down and held the
crystal in front of Chris. "Is the 'magic rock' you're talking about?" he
asked.

Chris nodded.

"I saw that last night when Chris was taking his shower," Karen provided.
She looked closer at the object in her husband's hand. It too reminded her
of a necklace, Karen however knew where she had seen one just like it. It
was one of those "good luck" crystal necklaces she'd seen in tabloid
advertisements, only larger. She suddenly realized that if Chris was telling
the truth, then John was in terrible danger.

"Honey, if that is what changed Chris into a girl, then I think you'd better
be careful with it," Karen warned. Unfortunately she hadn't thought about
the possible danger to John soon enough, the change had started the instant
he fingers had touched the gold wire loop in the bed room.

"Uh, maybe you're right," John said hastily giving the crystal to his wife.
She carefully placed it on the cushion of the couch next to her.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" John asked.

"I think the first thing we need to do is go to the village and see the
Doctor."

As they stood up to get the girls ready, the crystal slipped between the
cutions of the couch.

--O--O--O--

"I'm sorry, but the doctor had to go to the city for a few days," the nurse
in the doctor's office said. "She'll be back, uh... let me see," she
checked a calendar pad on her desk. "Friday."

"Friday?, But that's four days from now," John complained.

"Well if it's an emergency, there's always the hospital in Weaverville."
Weaverville was a four hour drive from the small ocean front village over a
winding mountain road. A fairly easy, but long, trip in their Jeep Cherokee.

John looked at Karen, who shook her head. There didn't seem to be anything
wrong with Chris, other than his astonishing change, and Karen didn't feel
like risking the drive with a storm coming on just to confirm something they
all knew.

By the time they returned to their rented cabin, the storm had hit, and hit
hard.

John pulled the 4 wheel drive vehicle into the vacation home's turn around.
Karen and John eyed the twenty yard distance to the house. There was no sign
that the rain would stop long enough for them to reach the house without
being soaked.

"Okay gang, on the count of three, everyone jump out and run like mad to the
house," John said, then began counting. "....two... three, go!"

Fighting their way through the strong wind and rain, all were soaking wet by
the time they reached the shelter of the glass enclosed porch.

"Well now? Who's ready for some hot chocolate?" Karen asked as they removed
their jackets. Both children raised their hands.

"Alright then, first you both need to change out of those wet clothes and in
to something warm and dry. By the time you are done with that, the chocolate
will be ready," she smiled as the two youngsters scrambled to their bedroom.

"Does that include me, too?" John asked.

"Sure, go take off your wet clothes before you catch cold."

"What about you?" John asked eyeing his wife's jeans. They were soaked
almost to mid thigh, were her long coat had protected her clothing.

Karen unbuttoned her long coat and allowed it to drop to the floor. She
grinned and seductively unzipped her jeans. Before an astonished John could
react, she peeled them off and stretched the sweater she was wearing down to
mid thigh.

"Clever. When did you borrow my sweater?" John asked dryly.

"When you were getting the girls dressed."

"Girls?"

Realizing what she had just said didn't sound quite right, she recanted.
"The kids... I'm sorry John, it just slipped out."

"Well," John sighed, "that's what they are now isn't it? Both of them."

The look of sadness on her husband's face tore at Karen's heart. She rushed
to him and hugged him tightly.

"Oh,honey, don't worry, everything will be alright," Karen said close to
tears. She hugged him tighter, savouring the smell of his wet clothing
mingled with his man scent. Karen could feel her panties becoming moist.
She pushed the thought from her mind, that would be the last thing John would
want to do at the moment.

"John, what if we can't find a way to change Chris back? Would you mind
terribly if you had two little girls rather than one of each?"

John was silent for a few minutes. Like Karen when she had been pregnant
with the kids, he'd had no real preference to the sex of either. "No, I
suppose not. But what about Chris, what will he -- she think about it when
she starts developing and becomes a woman?"

"Honey, that won't be for another seven or eight years at least. By then, I
don't think she'll mind it in the least. Being a girl isn't the worse thing
in the world, you know," Karen felt strangely annoyed at having to defend her
own sex to her husband.

"To a man it would...," He paused seeing the look of annoyance on his wife's
face. "No, I suppose not," John agreed. Karen gave a slight nod and turned
to the stove.

John watched his wife stir the coco into the warming chocolate milk for the
for a minute.

"Karen?" She turned and looked at him expectantly. "I think that we should
just forget driving over to Weaverville to see the doctor for a while. The
change doesn't seem to bother him, uh her. Let's just let nature takes its
course and see what happens."

Karen smiled and nodded, she had come to the same decision hours ago. But it
was important to all concerned if John felt that way too. "If you think
that's best dear."

John nodded as the two young girls came back into the room, ending further
discussion of Chris's strange condition.

"Why Chris, you look absolutely darling," Karen exclaimed when she saw what
her new daughter was wearing. John turned and looked at his son. He was
wearing one of his sister's outfits, bright pink pull on cotton pants and a
light sweatshirt also in pink with bright little flowers on the front. On
his feet were a pair of badly scuffed flats, also his sister's.

In spite of the difference in height, Wendy was about three inches taller and
about five or six pounds heavier than Chris, her clothing fit his new body
surprisingly well. And, both parents had to admit, the girlish outfit looked
strangely appropriate on their transformed son.

"I let Christina borrow some of my things. Was that alright?" Wendy asked,
suddenly aware of the pained look on her father's face.

Christina? It was as good a name as any and they could still use the shorter
version, Chris.

Karen glanced at John, received his silent approval of the name, then looked
back down at Wendy. "I think it's fine honey. In fact, until we can buy
Christina some girl's clothing of her own, you can share your's with her."

John didn't know if it was the sight of his son wearing his sister's
clothing, the stress of discovery of the changes or the fact that he felt
like he was coming down with a cold that suddenly made him feel like he was
exhausted. He started toward the bedroom.

Thinking that her husband was going to change his clothing and would be right
back, Karen poured the steaming chocolate into four cups and sat down with
the kids. A few minutes later, she heard gentle snoring coming through the
open door to the bedroom.

Poor dear, she thought, this has been so hard on him. She decided that she
would just let him sleep.

She couldn't keep her eyes off of Chris, trying to see what difference being
a girl made in him. He -- she, Karen hastily corrected herself, seemed to be
about the same size as yesterday, maybe a little thinner in the body, a
little fuller through the cheeks and face, but not much different than
before. She tried to imagine what Chris would look like as a mature woman.
She would be beautiful she decided.

"Mommy? Are you alright?" Chris' question brought her back to the present.

"Sure honey, I'm fine. The question is; how are you feeling right now?
About being a girl now, I mean," Karen asked.

Chris considered the question with a gravity that seemed beyond his years.
"It's different," he admitted. "But I really like it."

"But what about growing up to being a man, like your Daddy? If we can't find
a way to change you back to a boy, you may not be able to, you know. Not
become a man and maybe a Daddy yourself someday," Karen added to make sure
that Chris understood the question.

"Not be a Daddy?" The thought hadn't occurred to the small child. Chris
considered the question for a moment, then brightened. "Then I'll grow up,
have lots of babies and be a Mommy, just like you!"

With tears in her eyes, Karen held out her arms and told her new daughter to
come to her. Chris climbed off the chair and went to her mother.

"Will I grow up to be a Mommy too?" Wendy who had been watching and listening
to the conversation, asked.

Karen looked over Chris' shoulder and smiled. "I'm sure of it honey."

Wendy smiled and watched her new sister and mother for a few minutes more.
"Mommy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Wouldn't it be neat if Daddy became a girl too, then we could all be Mommies
together?"

"I don't think your Daddy would like that very much, honey."

"Why not?" Chris asked, bewildered by adult logic. If it was alright for her
to have be changed into a girl, why not her father?

"Well, for one thing, none of his clothes would fit him any more, and I don't
think he'd look too good wearing one of my bras, do you? Too much hair on
his chest for one thing." Karen smiled at the image the thought produced.

The picture of their hairy chested father wearing one of their mother's
flimsy looking bras brought giggles to the two little girls.

Karen told the two to finish their hot chocolate in the living room. She
wanted them occupied when she checked on John. He didn't look like he was
handling Chris' change all that well and she wanted to look in on him, just
to make sure that he was alright.

Karen threw another log on the fire and after warning the kids to stay away
from it, she walked softly to her bedroom.

John was laying on his side in a fetal position with his back toward the
door. He had removed his wet jeans and socks before he'd gotten into bed and
was now wearing nothing but the flannel shirt he'd had on when they'd
returned to the cabin. His undershorts were tangled around one ankle,
resting there after he had obviously kicked them and his blanket off in his
sleep.

Karen, smiling to herself, removed his shorts from around his ankle and re-
covered him with the blanket. She smiled down at the sleeping form again,
thinking briefly of much she loved her husband, then turned to leave, just as
John turned over on his back.

She reached the doorway when something registered in her mind. The hair on
his bare legs had disappeared!

Feeling as thought the pit of her stomach had dropped to her knees, Karen
went back to the bed and slowly removed the blanket to look closer at his
legs. Her inspection never got that far, stopping when she saw his naked
groin.

A groin as devoid of a penis and pair of testicles as her own! Through the
soft downy patch of pale blonde pubic covering his mons veneris, she could
see the top of his vulva and labia majora. She knew that if she were spread
his vulva apart to look closer, she would be able to see the opening to his
vagina.

What ever had caused her son to suddenly change into a girl, had worked it's
magic on her husband. She knew without a doubt, that he would not take it as
lightly as Chris had.

She covered her husband up and sat down to think.


Chapter Four:

When John awoke several hours later, the house was quiet other than the
television that was softly playing in the other room. The girls were
watching their favorite after school program, John realized as he glanced at
the alarm clock on his side of the bed.

Karen was sleeping close beside him with on arm across his waist. She was
snoring lightly.

Not wanting to disturb his wife who obviously need her nap as much as he had,
John stared up at the ceiling. He was wondering why he felt so strange, it
was almost as if he had suddenly become smaller, lighter in some strange, but
not entirely unpleasant way.

John turned head to face his wife, awakening her with his movements. He
waited until he thought she was awake before he whispered softly.

"Hi there beautiful, want to continue where we left off last night?" he
whispered softly and smiled. There was a look of such incredible sadness in
Karen's eyes that he shifted around to his side to face her. As he moved, he
had felt a strange sensation, it was almost as though his chest had shifted
at a slightly slower rate than his body had.

"John... I," Karen began as he abruptly sat up in bed and ripped the front
of his shirt open.

For a long moment neither spoke, just staring at the well formed and
distinctly feminine breasts on John's hairless chest.

"So it was the crystal after all, wasn't it?" John said, cupping his newly
formed breasts with his hands.

"John... I'm so sorry," was all Karen had managed to say through her tears.
John looked at his beautiful wife and tried to smile bravely.

"Look honey, it's not the worst thing that could happen, you said that
yourself, just this morning."

Karen looked at her husband strangely. What was going on here? It was
almost as if he had always wanted to be a girl. She could understand Chris'
reaction, he really hadn't had enough real life experience to understand the
true dissimilarities between boys and girls beyond the obvious plumbing
differences, but John had!

Karen suddenly threw back her covers and leaped out of bed. John noticed
that she had removed her bra and the sweater and was wearing leaving only a
pair of skimpy panties.

"What is the matter with you?" Karen demanded through her hot tears. "Why
aren't you upset with what's happened to you? I know I certainly am!"

John pulled the front of his shirt back together, knowing that the sight of
the breasts was even more disturbing to Karen than they had been to him.
John thought about her logical question for a minute. He should have been
screaming his fool head off, but he wasn't.

He really didn't have a pat answer, other than the fact than he had been
steeling himself for just this possibility.

"Karen, please come back to bed, and while I try to sort out my feelings.
They're kind of mixed up right now.

Karen shivering in the cold air of the room, regarded her husband for a
second, then slowly crawled back into bed.

She stiffened when John pulled her close and adjusted the blankets up to
their necks. As warmth slowly returned to her body she began to relax,
although continued to cry softly.

"Please explain to me why you're not upset. Did you want to be a girl before
you changed, or something?" Karen sniffed.

"I really don't know. I don't think I did. No, I'm positive, I didn't
harbor some secret desire to be a woman."

"I'm glad. I don't think I could handle it if you had," Karen said simply.
Having John accidently changed into a woman was bad enough, but it would have
been unbearable if he had actually wanted it.

Karen's curiosity got the better of her. "John, how are you feeling? I mean
this must be seem pretty strange."

"You've got that right! Although its funny, in some ways I feel like I
always did."

"What!" Karen exclaimed.

Correctly understanding his wife's reaction, John continued. "Karen stop and
think about it for a minute. What is the female equivalent to a man's
penis."

The question caused Karen to think back to some sex education lessons she'd
had when she first found out she was pregnant.

"Uh, a clitoris, I guess," Karen said not quite sure what John was leading up
to.

"Correct, and testicles?"

"Ovaries," Karen replied more sure of her answers.

"And a woman's vagina?"

She had wanted to say that it was the man's penis only turned inside out, but
knew that wasn't right. She shrugged her shoulders.

Seeing that she was stumped, John provided the answer. "A woman's vagina is
a modified prostrate gland -- or maybe its the other way around," he said
thoughtfully, then grinned.

"So what's the point," Karen asked. She was growing tired of the biological
Twenty Questions game her husband seemed to be putting her through.

"The point is this, honey. Nearly every part of this body is familiar to me.
At least everything feels more or less normal -- just in different location
or maybe re-positioned a little differently, that's all."

"That's all?" Karen exclaimed. "That's all?", she repeated as she pulled her
pillow out from under her and began to hit John with it. "Damn you! You
turn into a woman and 'that's all' is all you can say about it? I'll 'that's
all' you! I can't wait until you try to go to the bathroom with that 're-
positioned' penis of yours!"

John protected himself until Karen wore herself out. Huge tears formed in
her eyes as she fell against John's soft chest and sobbed.

Startled by the sudden jolt of pain in a breast where none had ever existed
before, John sucked in a pained breath of air. Instantly realizing that she
had inadvertently hurt her husband, Karen began to gently rub his sore
breast, crying softly that she was sorry.

Neither realized what her gentle manipulations on John's newly formed breast
were doing to him, until John felt a a strange warmth and moisture between
his legs. John gently removed Karen's hand and twisted around to kiss his
wife.

At first Karen resisted, but John was persistent and held her in a tight
embrace. After a few seconds Karen gave in and started to return the kiss
with a passion that equalled or exceeded John's.

Karen reached around her husband's back and started to caress the small of
his back, occasionally dropping lower to feel the soft hairless curves of his
rear. John was astonished at how sensitive his rear had suddenly become.

Karen broke loose for an instant and looked deep into her feminized husband's
eyes. "I love you John. I love you very much."

John started to reply in kind but was stopped when Karen placed two fingers
firmly on his lips. "Please don't say anything. Not just yet darling. Save
it for later, when the girls are asleep."

John feeling a little like Karen did when he abruptly ended foreplay, sighed
and nodded. "Later then."

Karen got out bed, went to her dresser and began digging thorough the small
supply of bras she's brought along with her. John watched her curiously as
she found the one she wanted and put it on. He expected her to put the
sweater and a pair of pants on next, but she surprised him by continuing her
search.

A few seconds later she obviously found what she'd been looking for and
placed it on the dresser. From his lower position in the bed he couldn't see
what she'd found. Or still needed he realized as she moved to another drawer
and began to dig though that one. This time her search ended more quickly.

Turning she tossed the products of her search to John. Deftly catching them
before the hit the bed, John looked at them curiously. They were a pair of
panties and a bra, both the stretch one size fits all kind that Karen used
when she was starting her period.

"A Bra and panties?" he asked raising his eyebrow.

"You may think you still have all your old parts dear, even if they are 'just
in different locations', as you put it. But I think you'll find that the
package they're in has changed quite a bit." Karen grinned.

"Can't I just use my own underwear?" John asked holding up the panties.

"Sorry dear, no you can't. Take it from me, very little of what you could
wear this morning will fit you right."

"Uh., not even my jeans?" John asked, knowing that they would fit a woman of
Karen's size, as she frequently proved.

"Nope, not even them," Karen smiled as John looked dismayed. "Just wait
until you see yourself in a mirror. Girl, you're in for the surprise of your
life."

Karen sat down on a chair and watch his every move, an amused smile on her
face.

John nodded and setting the bra and panties on the bed slid his feet over the
edge of the bed. John figured that he would be a little smaller, most women
were, but it seemed like a long time before his feet touched the cold floor.

John was conditioned by his mental image of what he had always looked for in
attractive women, a body that more or less conformed with Karen's, including
her height of just over five feet seven inches. He was wrong to assume that
everyone's image of the ideal woman was similar to his own. Of course but he
wasn't to realize it for a while yet.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slipped his feet into Karen's panties. He
stood and reached under his flannel shirt tail and pulled them up to and
above his old natural waist line.

He ran his hands over the soft stretch material, thinking that his soft
curving rear felt almost exactly like Karen's did when he ran his hands over
her rear.

Strangely the one size fits all panties felt a little looser on him than they
appeared to be on Karen. He glanced up at his wife trying to read something
other than amusement in her face.

"Take off your shirt and try on your bra, Dear," Karen suggested.

John nodded, beginning to feel uncomfortable getting dressed in women's
clothing for the first time in his life, especially when his wife was there
with that silly little smirk on her face!

Reaching to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, John was startled to realize
that some time during his sleep, Karen had already rolled them up to just
below his elbows. Knowing that the shirt was much larger now than when he
had put it on, John removed it by the simple method of holding his arms
straight down behind his back, arching his shoulders a little and allowing it
to slide to the floor.

The cold air caused his nipples to stiffen and his embarrassment grew as he
struggled to get the bra on.

He had watched his wife getting dressed enough to know the principle of
putting on a bra. But knowing the principle and putting it to practice are
two different things. He couldn't figure out how to fasten the small hooks
and still keep the straps from falling off of his narrow shoulders.

Pride prevented him from asking his now smirking wife, so he turned it back
to front, hooked the clips and reversed it again. A few seconds later he had
managed to position the garment more or less correctly and was trying to
adjust his breasts into the cups.

For a one size fits all, this bra feels awfully loose looking, he thought to
himself as he looked up from the bra to his wife. No matter, he had known
that he would have to buy new clothing anyway.

"Okay, got something I can wear over this stuff?" he asked.

"Sure what would you like a dress or skirt and blouse?" Karen smiled.

"Uh, just a pair of your jeans and a t-shirt would be fine for now, okay?"
John said, annoyed at his wife who seemed to be enjoying his fumbling.

It was when he was pulling on Karen's tightest pair of jeans she owned that
John realized that he had changed even more than he had realized. The jeans
that had fit Karen almost too snugly, fit him as though they were two sizes
too big through the hips and waist, and three sizes too short.

"My God, what size am I?" John asked looking at his wife in stunned surprise.
Karen stood and walked over to her feminized husband. The closer she came
the larger and taller she appeared, John stepped back not sure what she
intended to do.

"Relax dear, I'm not going to hurt you," Karen said reaching a hand between
the waist band of the jeans and John's body. She pulled slightly, causing
John to be jerked forward slightly.

"Hum, about three inches. I wear a size 9 which makes my waist about 27
inches. You're about two or three inches smaller... Just off hand I'd say
you're a size five or maybe even a size three... That's in a petite of
course," Karen said looking down at him.

John knew Karen was just slightly over five foot seven inches in her stocking
feet, as she was now... he glanced up at her trying to judge the difference
between their heights. It seemed to be at least five inches. That would
make him...

"I'm five foot two?" he asked incredulously. Everything suddenly snapped
into perspective and seemed to grow larger.

Karen nodded, "Yup, that'd be my guess too. Five foot two, with blonde hair
and blue eyes, weighing in at no more than 95 -- 98 pounds, at the most," she
sighed. "God, John, I know that you can't appreciate it now, but you're a
real cutie, just a regular living breathing doll."

"Don't rub it in," John snapped. When he had awaken and first discovered
himself to be a woman, he had expected that there would be some loss of
height and weight. But ten inches and over a hundred pounds? No wonder
Karen had been able to knock him around so easily!

"This is insane!" John exclaimed, his tone left no doubt that he was growing
closer to panic. Karen suddenly threw her arms around him, nearly knocking
him over again. She hugged him tightly, so tightly that he almost couldn't
breathe.

"Oh, John please don't do that. This has been even more difficult for me. I
just couldn't bare it if you suddenly went to pieces on me now, not when I
need your strength more than ever," Karen sniffed.

Sure easy for you to say, you haven't been turned into the size of a circus
midget in the space of a few hours, John thought bitterly. Karen suddenly
released her bear hug like grip and held him out at arms length, once again
nearly knocking him off balance.

Karen sniffed a few times and tried to smile, obviously upset as much or more
than John was.

"Don't be upset about your height, darling. It isn't your fault, I know
that. Besides, it isn't all that bad. Just remember how that old saying
goes," Karen sniffed once more then tried to smile.

"Old saying?" For the life of him, John couldn't remember any "old saying"
that would cover his situation.

"Yeah, you know the one men always say about tall women? Tall or short, when
we're flat on our backs with our legs spread apart, we're all the same
height." Karen smiled.

"Jeez, that disgusting," John snapped, suddenly feeling the urgent need to
pee. He jerked lose of Karen's surprisingly strong grasp and started to the
bathroom, only to nearly trip over the long legs of the jeans he was wearing.

Snarling to himself, John pulled the jeans off, unbuttoning, but not
bothering to unzip them more than part way in the process. Grabbing one of
his old t-shirts, he pulled it over his head and continued to the bathroom.

Karen caught up with him a few seconds later, panties dangling from his
ankles and his tiny bare feet resting comfortably on Chris's foot stool.

"Feeling better?" Karen asked as she heard the simultaneous sound of urine
hitting the water and John's sigh as he wiped himself.

"I will be in just a second," John flushed the toilet and pulled his arms
inside of the grossly oversized t-shirt. He fumbled around a few minutes.

Karen, who had been wondering what he was doing under the shirt, was
surprised when John's arms suddenly reappeared thorough the arm holes. In
one hand was her bra which he tossed to the sink.

In one quick movement John stood up pulled up the panties Karen had given
him. Not that it mattered much, the t-shirt hit him just above the knees and
fit like a tent, concealing the fact that he wasn't wearing a bra.

"John," Karen sounded as though she was shocked by what her husband had just
done. "You can't go around half naked under that thing. What will the girls
think?"

John regarded his much larger wife for a moment. "What they will think, is
that your clothing is too large for Daddy now! I'm staying like this until
the storm lets up... Then you can take the charge cards to the village and
bring me back something that fits at least half way decently."

"Yes, dear," Karen said, looking demurely down at the floor. John nodded to
himself, Karen maybe five inches taller and out weight him by at least thirty
pounds, but there was no question as to who the boss in the family was! It
was him!

Or so he thought.

The girls, who had already been told that their father had changed just as
Chris had, silently inspected their once tall and muscular father as he
walked bare foot into the living room. Two pairs of eyes grew wide as they
saw how tiny he'd become.

While he could still look down at his kids, he was a bare twenty inches
taller than Wendy and out weighed her by a little more than forty pounds.
That wasn't much difference when compared to his previous size, but John was
grateful for even that small amount.

There was a strained silence as the two young girls absorbed what they were
seeing. Chris was the first to break the silence when he screamed "Daddy!"
and hugged his father's petite body. John, startled by the unfamiliar
sensation of having someone push hard against his sensitive breasts,
hesitated and returned the hug. When they broke from each other, John
reached down and tosseled his new daughter's short blonde hair.

"How ya' doin', partner?"

"Fine, Daddy," Chris said softly, staring up at his father's feminine face.

Sensing that Chris wanted to say something else to him, John leaned bringing
his face close to Chris's.

"I think you're really pretty Daddy," Chris said. Then he did something that
surprised John. "I love you Daddy," Chris said as he planted a big kiss on
John's soft hairless cheek.

That was something he hadn't done in a long time, John thought. Of course,
I'm not as intimidating right now as I was this morning. "I love you too,
Christina," John said as he returned his son's kiss.

"I think he's beautiful," Wendy chimed in, not to be outdone by her sister.

"Thank you, dear," John said as he could feel himself blushing.

John moved closer to the fire place, shivering slightly in his t-shirt and
panties. He was beginning to regret telling Karen that he wouldn't wear any
of her clothing. If nothing else, he certainly could use a pair of socks
right now --- his tiny feet were freezing!

Ordinarily the beach at this time of the year was a constant and pleasant 80
degrees, a late winter storm had dropped the temperature to a very cool 50.

Karen had been watching her husband, he was obviously cold, yet was still
trying to "take it like a man". She knew that she had to do something.

"John, come back to the bedroom. I want to take your measurements. Then
I'll go into the village for some clothing for you."

John allowed himself to be measured, although it was difficult to stand still
whenever the cold metal tape measure touched his bare skin.

"You poor dear, you must be really cold, your goose bumps are almost as big
as your boobs," Karen teased. John resisted looking down at his chest.

"Just a few minutes more and I'll be done," Karen said writing his hip
measurements on a sheet of paper.

John looked over her shoulder and read the measurements of his new feminine
body, 35-25-37. He wasn't all that impressed other than for the fact that
his chest measurements were now only slightly larger than what his waist had
been. He noticed that something was missing from the list.

"What about shoes?" he asked. Karen took the tape and started to measure the
length of his foot. John watched for a second then stopped her. "It might
be better if you traced an outline of my foot on a piece of paper."

Karen nodded. A few minutes later she had the outline of his small foot
safely in her pocket with his measurements.. Seeing that she was finally
finished, John quickly pulled the t-shirt back over his body. Karen handed
him the sweater she'd been wearing and told him to put it on, wrap himself in
a blanket and stay on the couch until she returned.

--O--O--O--

John watched through Karen drive off toward the village through the living
room's huge plate glass window. He hadn't wanted to do any exploration or
even look at himself in a mirror as long as Karen was around. It wasn't that
he didn't want to, it was just that he knew that he would be touching and, to
some extent, prodding areas and things that might embarrass them both.

He glanced at the clock on the mantle, it was just after three. John knew
that the trip into town would take about twenty minutes, maybe a little
longer because of the heavy rain. Twenty minutes to town, maybe forty
minutes to shop, another twenty minutes for Karen to return.

He would have at the most an hour and a half, to satisfy his curiosity.
Glancing at his children, John settled on the couch, tucking his slender legs
under his huge feeling rear.

He kept one eye on the kids, ready to stop the instant either of them showed
any signs of interest in what he would be doing. Making sure that he was
well covered, John slowly pulled his t-shirt and sweater up as high as they
could go, just above his new breasts. He debated about trying to pull his
panties off, but decided not, that portion of his body was best explored in
the bathroom, safely behind locked a door.

He would be methodical about his inspection he decided. Start with his feet
and work his way up.

He reached down and touched a foot with the tips of his fingers. He felt
around a few seconds before running his hand slowly up his ankle bone and
along his leg. Frowning to himself he brought his hand up higher on his leg
until he reached the point where his hip bone joined his pelvis.

Frowning again, he reversed his direction, ending up at his foot. Except for
considerably less hair, although there was barely enough to feel, his leg
felt exactly as it had before he'd changed. He couldn't understand it. He
knew, having discovered his greatly reduced height when he'd had to look up
at his wife, that his body was smaller and lighter. Yet, it felt exactly the
same as it had before.

When he'd been a man, he'd been able to grip his wrist with his other hand by
touching his finger tips to his thumb. He still could do it. In fact, it
appeared to be just slightly smaller, but not that much. The same with his
leg, the length at least along the side of his leg felt, as it had before.

Had his body really changed? Or was it some kind of incredible illusion,
unmasked only when you didn't actually see the changes but only felt them
with your hands. Could this too be some kind of trick or illusion, nothing
more than smoke and mirrors?

If that were the case, then it would explain why he had the feeling that
everything about himself was normal... He ran his hand through his hair,
thinking.

The fatal flaw in the theory was of course, the heavy weights attached firmly
to his chest, the almost perfectly formed and shaped breasts. That and the
fact that while the texture of his hair felt exactly the same, and was nearly
the same length he had could feel that it was cut differently.

John ran his hand through his hair again, deep in thought. It suddenly
occurred to him that perhaps the reason for these conflicting signals his
eyes and his hands were sending him, might possibly be because
proportionally, his hands were the same as they always had been.

John abruptly stood and wrapped the blanket tightly around his body.
Glancing at the children, John gathered up the ends of the blanket and walked
to the bathroom.

He realized when he walked through the open door of the bathroom that until
now he'd been carefully avoiding looking at himself in a mirror. Even when
he'd gone to the bathroom shortly after getting out of bed, he'd kept his
eyes averted. Now his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. He
closed his eyes and moved to the sink and the mirror mounted above it by
feel.

Taking a deep breath, then another, he opened his eyes and stared at his
image. The mirror, installed to meet the needs of someone at least Karen's
height, reflected his image from the top of his head down to about the tip of
his nose.

He had just enough time to note, before he turned to look for Chris's foot
stool to stand on, that his hair, while still blonde, was both darker and
shorter. Finding the small wooden platform, John stepped up on it and looked
in the mirror again.

It was also cut in the same feminine style as Chris's. Now there was no
question in his mind, whatever had caused Chris's change, had done it to him
too. The crystal had been the only common denomiator.

Even though he had briefly explored his body with his hands under the blanket
in the living room, he wasn't quite prepared when he pulled off his clothing
and looked at it in the mirror. Karen had been right, he realized with a
shock, he was beautiful.

He still had most of his facial features, highly femininized, but still
recognizable as his own. That was where all similarity between his male body
and his new body ended. His neck was long and slender ending in sloping
narrow shoulders. His once hairy chest was now completely devoid of any
hair, but sported two well-shaped, distinctly feminine breasts that jiggled a
little with every moved he made.

His waist appeared to be much narrower than before, which it was of course,
but it's narrowness was emphasized by the expanse of the curving hips below
it.

He turned to look at his profile, noting his well rounded rear. It felt huge
to him, yet didn't appear to be out of proportion in the mirror. He decided
that it felt that way because he'd never had a woman's ass before.

All in all, he had a very well proportioned body, one that was neither too
large in the hips or bust, but was almost girlishly slender, firm and yet
still lithe and supple. Who ever, or whatever, had programmed the crystal's
female body design criteria, had done an excellent job. And as much as he
hated to admit it, it was very sexy looking.

It was a dancer's body, he decided. He stretched his arms above his head
with the palms of his hands facing forward. Slowly he bent over, keeping
both his arms and legs straight until he touched the floor with his finger
tips. Keeping his knees straight and bending a little more, he laid his
hands flat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom. He remained in this
rather ungainly position for the count of ten, then slowly straightened up, a
silly little grin on his face. He'd never been able to that before! Not
even close!

Yes, it was definitely a dancer's limber body. John sighed and returned to
his inspection, discovering that his new found flexibility gave him the
ability to inspect himself from some unusual angles.

The petite female body was perfect in every respect except for three; it was
too damned female, too damned short and worst of all he was in it!

--O--O--O--

John heard the Jeep's wheels grinding on the gravel of the turn around.
Karen had returned from her shopping trip. John glanced at the clock on the
mantle. She had been gone nearly three hours.

John walked out to the glassed in porch and waited for Karen to come inside.
When she got out of the vehicle, she ran around to the back and opened the
tailgate and began gathering packages together.

Seeing that she would need help, John tossed the blanket on to one of the
lawn chairs and pulled on his wind breaker. He tried to push the sleeves up,
but was annoyed to discover that they kept sliding down over his hands.

He was just rolling the second sleeve up, when Karen dashed to the porch and
ducked inside. She seemed surprised to see him on the porch, obviously
expecting him to be still sitting on the couch.

"Very cute," she smiled sliding past him.

"Cute?" John asked, not understanding what she was referring to.

"Your outfit," she said going into the house.

John followed her inside. "What are you talking about? I'm not wearing any
outfit."

"Then what do you call that?" Karen pointed to his oversized wind breaker and
sweater. His bare legs were sticking out underneath. The sweater looked
almost like a large knit dress on the tiny John.

"I was going to come out and help," he said lamely.

"There's nothing else in the car, honey. Come on, let's get you dressed,"
Karen smiled. "Just wait until you see what I found for you."

John retrieved his blanket and followed his wife into the house and into the
bedroom. Karen unceremoniously dumped the packages on to the still unmade
bed.

"Looks like you bought out the whole village," John remarked looking at the
pile of packages.

Karen followed his gaze and shook her head. "Not really, I was had a
terrible time finding things in your size. The village shops just didn't
have much in the way to offer for a small sized woman."

John shivered, realizing that it was something he'd have to begin worrying
about himself. "Well, obviously you were able to find something. Do you
mind if I put something on?"

Karen rummaged through the packages, finally finding the one she wanted. She
dumped the contents out on the bed. John stared at the pile of panties and
bras. There were at least six of each. Despite her assertion that the
stores didn't have anything, Karen had bought enough to outfit a small army
-- or at least a couple of very small women.

"Here, put these on first," Karen said holding out a pair of soft nylon
panties. John looked at the peach color briefs and shuddered. Karen watched
as he pulled them on under his long sweater, wondering if he was going to try
to put the bra on while still wearing the sweater.

The panties, a size five, fit perfectly as did the matching lace covered bra,
a size 34 "C".

John had watched his wife enough times getting dressed to have a fair idea
how to put on a bra. Karen watched silently as John removed his sweater and
tried to put on the bra. She didn't offer to help knowing that her husband
was both too embarrassed to ask and that he would have to learn how to do it
himself.

John hadn't protested when he'd seen the amount of lace on either the panties
or the cups of the bra. He'd bought enough of the garments as gifts for
Karen to know that most women's undergarments look like that.

Karen stood staring at her husband in his panties and bra for a moment. If
she hadn't known who he was, or had been, she never would have thought that
the small sexy looking woman was her husband. The thought that he had a very
sexy and very feminine body kept running unbidden through her mind.

"Are you going to stand there staring at me in my bra and panties all day, or
do I get to wear something over them," John said annoyed when he saw his wife
staring at him. She blushed and dug through another package.

John watched as she pulled out a smaller package of white cotton socks. John
tore open the package and pulled a pair on. The thin socks made his feet
look smaller somehow. He looked at them then folded the top over once,
making a cuff.

By the time he'd finished that, Karen had removed a pair of jeans and a white
tank top from another package.

"A little cold for something like this, isn't it?" he asked holding up the
top.

"We'll layer it with this," Karen said handing him a blue denim blouse styled
like a man's work shirt.

John slipped his arms into the sleeves, and started to button the blouse up,
then decided not to. Karen by this time, had removed a pair of white tennis
shoes and laid them on the bed.

Karen had been watching him get dressed, sighed, then turned her head quickly
away.

"What's the matter?" John asked when he saw his wife's reaction. She shook
her head keeping her face adverted.

"Karen, what is the matter," John repeated, although he already knew the
answer.

"You," Karen sniffed. "You have a terrific body."

"Uh, you're not jealous are you?" John asked, surprised. He slipped his feet
into the new tennis shoes and tied the laces, watching his wife carefully.

"Yes, damn it, I'm," Karen said angrily. "I feel as though I'm going to end
up competing against you for -- for -- everything."

John stepped to his wife and hugged her until her shivering stopped. It felt
odd, not only the pressure against his breasts, but the fact that he now had
to look up to see her face.

"Karen, I know this sounds hard to believe. But inside this woman's body
beats the heart and sole of a man -- of John Robins, your husband and father
to your two children," John paused to see if Karen understood what he was
trying to say. "I don't see how you can seriously think that I'll be in
competition with you!"

"No?" Karen grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned him to the mirror on the
dresser. "Stop and take a good hard look at yourself!"

John looked. Until now, his male orientated mind had automatically gone into
a defensive mode and merely thought of his body as a great inconvenience.
Now that he had put some clothing on and was no longer distracted by its
nakedness, John suddenly realized what Karen had meant.

As he stared at his reflection he suddenly realized that he looked younger
than Karen, maybe as much as six or seven years younger. About the age she
had been before they had married and she had the children. He was not only a
woman, but a young one at that. To Karen it would seem as though his
transformation was a double whammy.

"Karen," John whispered. "I love you. I always will... Its just that..."

"Its just that you have a little handicap right at the moment?" Karen
interjected. Her voice altered between bitterness and sarcasm. "Maybe I
should try to get the crystal to change me into a man... At least then we
could still make love in the normal way."

John raised his shapely eyebrow. "What makes you think that I would want sex
with a man?"

"Would you?"

"The thought crossed my mind," John answered seriously. He had considered
that aspect of being a woman, and had rejected it out of hand. He started to
tell Karen that he had considered it and rejected it almost as fast as the
thought occurred.

Karen turned her head away and began crying again. John tried to comfort her
without success. "Just go..." Karen sniffed. "Go play with the kids or
something. I need to be alone."

John looked at his wife for a moment then left the room. He'd lived with
Karen long enough to know that when she was in this kind of mood, it was best
to leave her alone to work things out.

John wandered into the living room where Chris and Wendy were watching
cartoons on TV. He watched along with them for a few minutes then decided
that this was as good a time as any to work on the proposal he was working on
for one of his customers.

John removed his briefcase from the closet where he had stashed it the day of
their arrival at the beach house. Surprised at how heavy it had grown, John
carried the case to the table, opened it and removed a folder and a small
notebook computer.

He'd spent weeks trying to find just the right angle that would insure the
deal, finally giving up in near frustration. Now, as he worked, John slowly
became aware that the words seemed to come easier. His long slender fingers
flew over the keyboard creating a proposal that was better than anything he'd
ever done before.

He didn't notice Karen as she came out of the bedroom several hours later.
She watched him for a few minutes then disappeared into the kitchen.

"You look like you might need this," Karen said about ten minutes later as
she put a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of her husband. John
picked up the mug, took a sip and set it down. Karen sat down across from
John and slowly drank her coffee as she watched him.

Karen smiled. She hadn't seen John this engrossed in his work in years. And
all it had taken was the sudden removal of his balls... She almost laughed.

John hearing the slight giggle glanced up and smiled as though it was the
first time he was actually aware that she had been sitting across from him.

"I'll be done in a few more minutes, honey," John said, then returned to his
notebook.

Well, at least that much of him hasn't changed, Karen smiled to herself. She
glanced out of the large picture window. The ocean had calmed and it looked
like the sky was clearing. Maybe they could go swimming again tomorrow.

--O--O--O--

John glanced up at his wife. Karen had a distant look in her eyes as she
stared out the window. He knew that she had reached a decision. He hoped it
would be one he could accept.

He returned his attention to the screen of his notebook. He realized with a
shock that he had repeated the last paragraph almost word for word. How many
other mistakes had he made? He sighed and hit the "home" key.

As he read, his mind drifted back to the strange new body he had suddenly
found himself in. Without his knowledge, his subconscious had been slowly
and carefully analyzing what was going on inside of him as he worked on his
proposal.

His subconscious had come to the conclusion that if John wanted to suddenly
become a woman -- a completely normal and healthy woman -- then it was
alright with it. John's subconscious began to look forward to the
experience.

On a conscious level, John had been flooded with a strange mixture of
interest and disgust with the way his body felt. He liked the fact that he
didn't have to shave his face, but hated the idea that he would now be
expected to shave his legs and underarms. His heavy breasts were annoying to
say the least, yet the reactions of his sensitive nipples was -- interesting
to say the least. As far as the absence of his penis and testicles were
concerned, he had found that their absence made it easier to sit down. He
had already discovered that there was no lack of sensation, if anything it
had actually increased. Like his son before him, John was beginning to think
that it wasn't all that bad being a girl.

--O--O--O--

"John can we talk for a minute?" Karen's question brought John back to the
present. He saved his document and turned off the notebook computer.

"John, I've been thinking," Karen said slowly, "about us."

"Karen, I know this has been hard on you..." John began.

"Let me finish. I want you to know that I love you."

"That's nice. I love you too."

"John," Karen warned. "I love you, but if you can't find a way back to your
old body, we can't stay married to each other."

"I know, honey," John said sadly. He too had been giving it some thought.
It wouldn't be fair to Karen to try to force her to stay with him. She was a
normal woman, one who needed a man at her side, not the freak that he had
suddenly turned into. "When we get back, we'll file for a divorce. You'll
be free to find someone else and get on with your life."

Karen looked startled, as though the thought of finding a new husband hadn't
really occurred to her before. She laughed lightly and shook her head.

"What makes you think that I want anyone else in my life?"

"But Karen you're a normal healthy woman and..."

"And?"

"And you need more than I can give you."

"And what is that dear?" Karen broke into an amused smile at John's look of
confusion.

"Someone to provide for you, someone to grow old with you... someone that
you can love and will love you in return." John countered.

"So far you haven't mentioned anything that you can't do, even as you are
right now," Karen smiled. "You've done a very good job of providing for both
myself and the girls, we love each other, and we can grow old together even
though you do appear to be younger than I am right now. I don't see any
reason why all that should stop now, just because you've grown a pair of tits
and a pussy. We can tell anyone nosy enough to ask that we're sisters or
something."

"Sisters? But what about -- uh, sex?" John asked, blushing.

"What about it?"

"Well, uh -- you know. I can't..."

"Stick your penis inside of me?" Karen provided.

"Uh, well yes," John was strangely embarrassed. He'd never had a problem
discussing sex before.

Karen regarded John for a second, then smiled and leaned back in her chair.
"When you changed I was, to put it mildly, upset. Once I grew more or less
resigned to the idea that you were now a woman, I began to notice something
different about you. Besides, the obvious, I mean. The tension was gone."

"The tension? What tension?" John asked confused. He'd always thought that
he and Karen got along very well.

"Honey, you haven't been a woman long enough to realize it, but there is
always a sexual tension between men and women. Men generally aren't aware of
it, or maybe they don't even care, but women certainly are and do! Men make
light of the so called 'war between the sexes' but I can assure you that to a
woman, it is very real."

"I never felt that way..." John protested.

"John darling, take it from me, you did. You couldn't help it, you poor
dear, you were being controlled by biology."

"Biology? I'm not sure I understand."

Karen giggled. "There were times, more often than not, when it seemed to me
that your brains were hanging between your legs. Now that there's nothing
there, you're beginning to think with your head and heart rather than with
your balls. It is a refreshing relief. I can finally relate to you without
that penis of your's getting between us."

John thought about it for a moment. Now that Karen had pointed it out, he
did seem to feel calmer, more at ease with himself. He suddenly remembered
their conversation the night before his change. "But what about having
another baby... I certainly can't get you preg..."

Karen placed her finger tips against John's lips, silencing him.

"There you go again dear, thinking with your balls rather than your mind and
heart. Besides, you don't have to worry, after last night, we just might
have that baby after all. If not, it doesn't really matter, darling."

"You're saying that now, but what if you change your mind later?" John
insisted.

"John, dear -- we really have to think up a girl's name for you -- I'm really
very happy with our little family as it is." Karen paused and smiled. "You
may want to consider having one yourself some day, however. After all, its
your biological clock that's ticking now too."

John blushed and looked down at his breasts. He wondered if he would ever
become that much of a woman.

Karen smiled at the thoughtful expression on her transformed husband's face.
She knew that she had just planted the seed of an idea in her husband's mind.
Whether or not it would bare fruit, only time would tell. Karen decided that
she had better end the serious conversation with a lighter subject.

"Think we'll be able to go swimming tomorrow?"

John looked out the picture window. "I suppose so, why?"

"I bought you the cutest little bathing suit."

"You did?" John's thoughts were brought back to the changes in his body.

"Yes, I know that you'll just love it! Its exactly like the ones that we saw
on that girl on beach the other day."

"Which girl was that?" John asked. There had been a dozen or so young women
wearing bathing suits.

"The one in the yellow thong bikini."

"A thong bikini! It will never fit!"

"One way to find out. Come on little sister, let's go try on the bikini and
the rest of the clothing I found for you." Karen smiled and rose from her
chair. John followed her into the bedroom. "What do you think about pierced
ears...."

"I've always like girls that had them," John answered honestly.

"That's good, we'll buy you and Christina some when we go home," Karen
stopped suddenly and kissed John passionately. "I just know we're going to
have so much fun together..."

In the living room, the Wendy and Chris had been listening intently to the
conversation coming from the dinning room. They smiled at each other then
turned to watch their program again.

Everything was going to be alright.



Part 3: "The Transvestite"



Wanda Johnson, her face expressionless, watched through the crack
in the closet door as Bill, her husband of five years, pulled on a
pair of her panties.

Except for the expected bulge in front, they fit surprisingly well.
She hadn't realized that she and her husband, who was a few inches
taller and twenty pounds heavier, were that close to being the same
size.

She hated to resort to spying on her husband like this, but after
years of wondering had finally hit upon the only way she could
confirm that he was the one who had been going through her dresser
drawers. She had never expected to discover that he'd been wearing
her clothing or that he appeared so graceful in a dress.

Now that she knew for sure, she felt sick about it. She grew
concerned that he was some kind of queer or a freak or something
even worse, although she didn't know what it would be.

She debated on how, or even if she should, confront him with her
discovery. She decided as she watched him fasten one of her bras
around his chest that she wouldn't. At least not until she'd had
an opportunity to learn more about his strange behavior.

She had to wait in the closet for nearly an hour as Bill tried on
nearly a dozen of her outfits. Some, like her bright fuchsia capri
tights and black spandex leotard looked so ridiculous on him that
she almost laughed out loud.

Some, like her long ivory colored spaghetti strap satin nightgown
and matching robe, almost made him look like the woman he was
obviously pretending to be.

The illusion was marred only by the small amount of hair on his
chest and legs. That problem could be corrected easily by shaving
and with a little makeup and a minor restyling of his longish hair,
he could look very creditable as a woman, she decided
dispassionatly.

When the alarm clock went off, both she and Bill jumped. He
quickly turned it off and began to remove Wanda's clothing,
carefully replacing everything the way he'd found it.

It wouldn't be exactly the way she'd left it, Wanda knew. But that
was because she'd been laying little "booby traps" that would tell
her when someone had been going through her things.

Stark naked, Bill took one last look around and turned off the
bedroom light. Wanda watched as he disappeared into the bathroom
and closed the door. She remained in her hiding place until she
heard the shower start.

She let herself out of the house, walked around the block to where
she had hidden her car and drove it back home, all the while
thinking about what she had seen.

By the time she unlocked the front door and entered the house, Bill
had completed his shower and was sitting on the couch in his
pajamas and robe.

"How did the meeting go, Dear?" Bill asked as he saw his wife
standing at the doorway.

"Not bad, considering all Harold wanted to do was an end run with
his one of his screwy proposals," Wanda said, inventing the details
of a meeting that never occurred. She was fairly safe in her
criticism of her co-worker, he was always trying that.

Bill chuckled. "He never changes, does he?"

"No," Wanda sighed. "I must be getting old, the meeting tonight
exhausted me."

"Oh, God. Don't say that, you're younger than me and I'm only 28.
If you're old, that makes me even older," Bill laughed. "Why
don't you take your clothes off and get comfortable. I'll rub your
neck if you'd like."

"That sounds wonderful," Wanda said. She kissed Bill lightly on
the cheek. "Wait right here, I'll be back in a flash."

It was a little longer than a "flash' before Wanda returned. She
walked gracefully into the room wearing the ivory nightgown,
matching robe and a pair of high heeled marabou slides. Almost the
exact same outfit Wanda had watched her husband wear. The only
difference was that Wanda's "padding" was real, allowing her to be
nude under the gown and she had been wearing the marabou slides.
Bill had worn a padded panty girdle, a well stuffed bra and no
shoes, Wanda's wouldn't fit.

Wanda watched Bill carefully for any signs of a reaction to the
gown and robe she was wearing. She was almost disappointed when
all he did was smile and hold out his arms for her.

"I've always liked that gown and robe on you," Bill murmured in to
her ear as he pulled her close. Wanda could feel herself
responding to the warmth of his breath in her tiny ear. She
stroked his freshly shaven cheek, and breathed deeply.

"And I love that after shave lotion," she whispered.

"Take off the robe," Bill commanded softly.

"Why sir! What would you have with me?" Wanda mimicked a line from
an old movie she had once seen.

"I kind of thought that we would start with a good neck rub, and
see where it goes from there," Bill smiled. The front of his
pajama bottoms left no doubt of where it would end.

"Sounds -- relaxing," Wanda whispered hoarsely as Bill nuzzled her
ear again.

"Oh, I hope not, at least not at first," he laughed. Wanda
stretched out on the couch, her breast nestled between her
husband's legs. She felt the fingers of one of Bill's strong hands
dig gently into the muscles of her neck. His other hand gently
stroked her back through the nightgown. "I sure like you in this
nightgown," he sighed.

An hour later, the satin gown lay forgotten on the floor next to
their king sized bed. It would stay in a crumpled pile until the
following morning.

-0-0-0-

Bill had already gone to work by the time Wanda got out of bed and
slipped the gown and robe back on. She was on her off week day.
She had a whole three days before she had to go back to work again.
It was on days like this that she loved the flexible schedule she
worked. Four ten hour days were worth the long weekends and after
last night she needed the time to rest up.

She wandered down to the kitchen and turned on the coffee Bill had
left for her. Wanda sat down and stared out the kitchen window,
not even wanting to think until she'd had at least one cup of
coffee in her.

Wanda ran her hand along her thigh, feeling the soft fabric of the
satin gown slipping under her touch. She couldn't blame Bill for
liking the gown, it would be difficult not to. She had known of
course, that he had worn it less than an hour before she had, which
is why she had worn it herself.

She didn't know what kind of reaction she had been expecting. But
whatever it had been, it wasn't quite like the passionate mood Bill
had obviously been in.

He had been TIB, terrific in bed, and she had reached orgasm so
many times that she was too tired to even get out of bed to clean
herself up. It was nights like last night, that she didn't even
mind sleeping on the wet spot!

Wanda poured herself a cup of warmed over coffee and stared into
the dark liquid for a moment, reflecting on the other times Bill
had shown such passion and wondering why he felt the need to wear
her clothing.

She nearly dropped her coffee cup when she realized that in almost
every case, when she dressed in the mornings following Bill's
"super passion nights", her clothing, in both her dresser and
closet, had been disturbed. She realized that there was another
common factor, on those nights she had been away from the home.

"Son of a bitch!" she swore softly to herself. "He was wearing my
clothes then too!"

Astonished by the revelation, Wanda began to search her memory for
the times when they'd had sex after she'd been home all day. The
sex had been good, but nothing like the times she suspected he'd
been wearing her clothing earlier.

A strange thought crossed her mind. If his passion had been this
strong after wearing women's clothing hours earlier, then what
would it be like if he went to bed wearing one of her nightgowns,
say the one she was wearing right now?

There was only one way to find out, she decided. But she had to be
subtle about getting him into one of her gowns. It had to be a
logical solution to a problem, rather than her just asking him to
start wearing her clothing.

Something like not having anything else to wear but her clothing.
It couldn't be anything as obviously contrived as saying that all
his clothing was in the wash. Bill would see though that in an
instant.

No, it had to be something like losing his luggage on a trip. A
trip to some quiet out of the way place that Bill could wear her
things all day if need be, and not be embarrassed about it.

It might also be a good time to discuss his strange little habit of
his. Wanda picked up the paper and began to scan the ads for
vacation rentals.

-0-0-0-

"Honey I know that you said you wanted to get away from it all for
a week or two, but did you have to pick some place so far away from
anywhere?" Bill asked as he followed the state highway along the
coast. "I don't particularly want to spend my only vacation in
some shack out in the middle of nowhere."

"The Realtor I talked to on the phone said that the cabin was
really quite comfortable and very modern. It's located about five
miles down the coast from the Village and about three hours from
Weaverville. It will be just perfect for our get away," Wanda said
smiling to herself. "Just think, a whole week with nothing more
serious to do than to lay out on the beach and get wonderful tans."

"We are on the right road aren't we?" Bill asked, ignoring his
wife's itinerary.

"Honey, you know my navigation has rarely been wrong. Now quit
worrying, everything will be fine," Wanda reassured her husband.
The car crested a small hill. "Look there it is!"

Bill looked where his wife had been pointing. The rental "cabin",
turned out to be an old fashioned looking two story house, with a
glassed in porch that ran around three quarters of the structure.
In spite of themselves, both Wanda and Bill grew more and more
impressed as Bill drove closer to the "cabin".

-0-0-0-

"Just look at this place!" Bill exclaimed as he looked around the
living room. Two large plate glass windows over looked the ocean
on one wall. Located on another wall was a huge fireplace made out
of natural stone. It looked well used. "It's better than I
thought. I'm sorry I mistrusted your judgment, honey."

"That's alright, lover. Why don't you unpack the car while I make
the bed and prepare us some dinner."

"Sounds good to me," Bill agreed heading back toward the car.

-0-0-0-

"We have to go back," Bill said ten minutes later.

Wanda looked up from the blanket she was spreading on the bed.
Bill was carrying her two suitcases, the only ones she'd packed.
"What for?" she asked.

"I know you packed a suitcase for me, but I didn't see it in the
car. I must have left it in the garage. I don't have any clothing
other than what I'm wearing," Bill said setting Wanda's heavy
suitcases on the floor.

"Oh, no Bill, you didn't," Wanda said, sounding disappointed.
Inwardly she was laughing. Boy, are you in for a treat, she
thought.

"Yeah, sure looks like it," Bill said. "Looks like we've got to go
back."

"Bill be realistic, it was a nine hour drive to get here. If we go
home, we'll be too tired to drive back tonight."

Bill nodded in agreement. "Well, we could stay here tonight and go
back tomorrow," he said slowly. "We'd only lose a day or two of our
vacation. We can call the Realtor and cancel the rest of the
week."

"Bill Johnson! That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard you come up
with. There is no way that I'd be willingly give up two whole days
of our vacation! Besides, we wouldn't get a refund if we canceled
out now."

"Well, I certainly can't run around naked and even you'd get tired
of washing my clothes every day."

Wanda sat down on the newly made bed and appeared to be in deep
thought. In reality she was struggling hard to keep from laughing,
this was going exactly as she had planned.

She waited another second before she looked up at her husband, a
thoughtful expression on her face. "Of course, there is another
solution to the problem you haven't considered yet."

"Oh, and what's that? Wear your things?" Bill asked sarcastically.

"Well, why not? I've packed enough for both of us." Wanda said
allowing herself to smile faintly.

Bill's reaction was interesting to watch. She could tell that the
idea appealed to him and he wanted to do it, but there was also a
battle going on inside of him, obviously not wanting to expose his
secret. She decided to push it a little in her favor.

"Honey, I really don't care if you wear some of my clothes. I
really did pack more than I'll ever possibly need."

"But what if someone saw me? I'd never be able to live it down,"
Bill's tone clearly said that he needed a little more convincing.

"Who would see you? We're miles from the nearest house and
besides, even if someone did see you they probably wouldn't even
care."

"Well, if you're sure you don't mind?" Bill asked a little too
reluctantly. Wanda's heart skipped a beat, he was going to do it!

"Honey, since I know you like my ivory nightie, I wouldn't even
mind if you wanted to wear it yourself. In fact, it might be your
only chance to ever discover that it feels even nicer to wear than
to look at."

Wanda was amused by the emotions that flashed across her husband's
face. She suddenly felt closer to him than she had at any other
time since she first met him. She also realized that it was time
to back off slightly, too much encouragement would be as bad as too
little.

"But what do you say we get settled in before we do anything else,"
Wanda suggested. She smiled, "Why don't you build a fire while I
fix dinner."

"Okay, anything else you want me to do?"

"Uh, yeah, see if there's a bear skin rug somewhere. I've always
wanted to make love on one in front of a fire." Bill laughed as
Wanda leered at him.

-0-0-0-

"Let's leave the dishes until tomorrow, honey," Wanda said. They
were sitting on a thick oriental style throw rug before the
fireplace, their dinner dishes resting on the coffee table behind
them.

The only light in the room was the warm glow from the fire Bill had
built. Wanda was warm, cozy and very romantic and she didn't want
to spoil the mood by the mundane task of washing the dishes.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find a bear skin rug for you, dear," Bill
laughed softly.

"That's alright honey, the blanket will do quite nicely."

They sat side by side in each other's arms, watching the fire in
silence for a minute.

Wanda decided that now was as good a time as any to try out her
theory. She turned to Bill and kissed him hungrily for a few
seconds. "Why don't we slip into something more comfortable, and
get down to some serious business," she suggested.

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Bill whispered. He followed Wanda
as she rose and walked upstairs to the bedroom. Her hips swayed
seductively as they climbed the stairs together.

Wanda removed her clothes, and slipped a waltz length gown over her
head. After she had adjusted it she noticed that Bill had removed
only his shirt. He was standing awkwardly just looking at Wanda's
body silhouette through the thin cotton gown.

"Something wrong? I put your gown on the bed, hurry up and put it
on, I want to get back to the fire," Wanda said.

"Uh, I'm not sure that I should be doing this," Bill said
nervously. Wanda grew concerned that he would suddenly back out of
being the unknowing subject of her little experiment.

"I don't see why not. There's just the two of us and wearing one
of my nightgowns is not going to turn you into a woman," Wanda
smiled to soften her comment. "Please honey, before the fire dies
down."

Bill picked up the ivory colored gown and looked helplessly at his
wife torn between the desire to rip his clothing off and put on the
gown and not wanting to give the impression that was exactly what
he wanted.

Wanda realized that she would have to be a little pro-active if she
ever wanted him to wear the gown. She moved to him, gently took
the gown from his unresisting hands and dropped it back on the bed.

"Let me help you," she murmured. She pulled Bill's T-shirt over
his head and picked up the gown again. Smiling as seductively as
she knew how, she gathered the gown up and motioned Bill to raise
his arms. Bill silently held his arms out as Wanda slipped the
straps of the gown on. He bent his head slightly as she slipped
the gown around his shoulders, then let go. The nightgown fell to
nearly the floor, covering the pair of pants he was still wearing.

Wanda seemed to notice for the first time that he was still wearing
his pants underneath the long gown. She slowly bunched the gown up
above his waist and told him to hold it.

Ignoring his shaking hands as Bill gripped the skirt of the gown,
Wanda unbuttoned and zipped down his pants. A second later, she
had pulled them down to his knees. Bill stepped out of them and
remained motionless as Wanda turned her attention to his
undershorts. It was obvious to both of them that he had become
excited, very exited.

Wanda slid the flat of her hands between Bill's undershorts and his
hips. She pulled straight down, knowing that his erect penis would
catch in the shorts.

"Well now, what do we have here?" she smiled when the shorts were
stopped in their downward movement. She pulled the waistband out
and reached in with her hand, feeling the hard erection. She began
to gently caress it. With her other hand she eased the shorts down.
Bill stepped out of them and stood shivering.

"Wanda, please," he half pleaded.

Wanda removed her hand from his stiff penis, placed her hands
behind Bill's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply.
Bill suddenly became aware that he was still holding the skirt of
the gown above his waist. He abruptly let go, allowing the gown to
slide to the floor as he pulled his wife tightly against him.
Wanda moved her hands to Bill's rear gently rubbing the soft satin
robe against his body.

"Hummm," Wanda murmured between kisses. "Shall we go back down
stairs, or see what develops right here?'

Bill answered by picking Wanda up and gently setting her on the
bed. She had her answer, to both of her questions.

-0-0-0-

"You knew, didn't you," Bill said softly the next morning.

Wanda cuddled a little a little closer to her husband, and nodded.

"I know darling. I discovered your secret two months ago," she
sighed. "At first, I didn't know what to do. I even debated
asking for a divorce." Bill stiffened slightly at the word
"divorce", he truly and deeply loved his wife.

Wanda smiled and gave Bill a reassuring hug. "Don't worry, I don't
want to leave the man I love more than life itself. But I did give
it a lot of thought, finally I decided that even if you wanted to
go all the way, I would stand beside you."

"All the way?"

"Have a sex change and become a woman, darling," Wanda said softly.
Bill stiffened again, Wanda obviously didn't understand him that
well.

"Wanda Darling, I'm a crossdresser, not a transsexual. I like to
occasionally dress like a woman, but I have no desire to become
one."

"I'm glad."

"Although, I wouldn't mind having a nice set of boobs and a big
rump like your's." Wanda punched him in the arm. "Ouch! I was
just teasing dear."

"I know honey. But it's interesting that you brought up the
subject up."

"What? Wanting to have breasts?"

"I have a little surprise for you darling, in fact two little
surprises," Wanda said pulling the covers back and sliding out of
the bed. Bill watched his wife as she pulled her nightgown off.
Bill admired her naked body for a minute, not paying attention to
what she was saying. She was the sexiest woman he'd ever known.

"Bill Have you been listening to me?"

"What? No, I'm sorry honey. What did you say?"

"I said, it's time to get dressed. Come on and get into the shower
with me."

Bill grinned and got out of the bed. When he had reached Wanda he
hugged her and gave her a big kiss. She gently pushed him away.
"Bill, let's get going, we've got a lot to do."

Bill followed his wife into the bathroom after reluctantly removing
his soft nightgown. Wanda was waiting for him, a pink bottle in
one hand and a razor in the other.

"Which way to you want to go? Using a razor or some dipilatory?"
she had held each object up in turn as she spoke.

"Uh, for what?" Bill asked a little nervously.

"Bill, I told you that I've been thinking about this for a long
time. I've decided that I will give you my fullest support, the
least you can do is try to look the part. I want you to remove all
of your body hair, except for what's on your head and a little
patch between your legs. Now which will it be, razor or hair
remover."

Bill could scarcely believe what his wife was telling him, she
actually wanted him to shave his legs! It had been something he'd
secretly wanted to do since he had first noticed that girl's legs
were different than boys.

"Uh, how about the hair remover?"

Wanda smiled, "Somehow I knew you would say that. Okay, come over
here and we'll get started."

Bill stood motionless as Wanda carefully and thoroughly covered his
body with the pungent smelling lotion. When she finally finished
she inspected her work and smiled.

"Now what?" Bill asked.

"Now we wait for ten minutes or so, then its into the shower and
goodbye hairy legs." Wanda said as she washed the remainder of the
lotion off of her hands.

Bill glanced down at his body, Wanda had even put some of the pink
lotion on his chest, not that he had much hair there to begin with.
After awhile the lotion began to dry and sting a little.

"Are you sure you want me to go through with this?" Bill asked
doubtfully.

Wanda glanced at the clock. "If I didn't its too late now. Time
to hop into the shower, honey and meet your new self."

Bill got into the shower and adjusted the warm spray to flow
against his chest. He watched in amazement as the hair was rinsed
away with the residue of the lotion. As he watched he was suddenly
startled by the feel of a wash cloth against the back of his legs.
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Wanda busily washing him off.

"What are you doing?"

"Just speeding up the process a little. Not that it needs it,
everything seems to be working quite well." Wanda said as she
worked her way around to Bill front. Within a few minutes, she had
finished and his body was nearly free from any hair.

Wanda ran her hands along Bill's sleek smooth legs as she rose from
her squatting position. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have
good looking legs?"

"For a man you mean?" Bill smiled.

"No silly, for a girl. Your legs are too shapely for a man's,"
Wanda smiled back. Bill shook his head. "Well you do. You have
legs that a lot of women would love to have."

"They're not as good looking as your's," Bill said honestly.

"True, but that's only because they're so white. A good tan and
they'll look even sexier than mine!"

Wanda looked serious for a moment. "You know, Bill? I think I'm
going to really enjoy our vacation with you being my little
'sister'."

"Your little sister?" Bill asked startled, he'd been planning
something a little more intimate than that.

A gleam came into Wanda's eyes, "At least part of the time Honey,"
she grinned and reached for his groin. Her touch had the expected
result, already half erect, Bill's penis sprang to life.

"Oh, dear. This huge clitoris of my little sister is going to be
a problem isn't it?" Wanda grinned as she reached for the bar of
soap. "But I know how to take care of this little problem."

Wanda had to masturbate him three times before his penis finally
shriveled down to its normal size. She washed him carefully, then
quickly washed her own body.

"I'm going to get out," Wanda pulled the shower curtain back. "I
want you to stay in a little longer and shave."

"Shave?" Bill looked at his denuded body. "Shave what? That stuff
didn't leave anything to shave."

"Your face dear, you need to shave your face." Wanda laughed,
handing him the razor. Bill had the decency to blush, he had
forgotten all about his whiskers.

-0-0-0-

"That was a nice surprise Honey," Bill said, running a towel along
the side of his smooth leg.

"Thank you, but that wasn't the surprise," Wanda said smiling
broadly. "They're in the bedroom. As soon as you're dried off,
I'll show them to you."

Wanda had dressed by the time Bill had returned to the bedroom.
Laying on the bed were the clothes Wanda had selected for him, a
pair of shorts and a tank top. Clothing and something else.

"What are those?" Bill asked pointing at two obvious mounds under
the shorts.

"Those?" Wanda asked innocently. "Why those are something that you
said you've always wanted, your very own set of boobs."

Wanda whipped back the tank top. Bill's mouth dropped open when he
saw what had been hidden under the top. Two realistic looking
breasts, complete with large nipples seemed to stare back at him.

"Like them? I had to order them from a surgical supply company.
The ad said that they were the most life like prosthesis on the
market today."

Bill pick one up, feeling the texture of the soft fabric covering
and the surprisingly heavy weight.

"Since you and I can wear the same bra size, I bought them in my
cup size. Now darling, when you wear them you will feel the exact
same as I do." Wanda grinned. "Best of all, they're waterproof and
we can go swimming in the ocean together."

"Swimming?" Bill asked tearing himself away from the breast he was
holding in his hand.

"Of course, Dear. That was why we came here, to lay in the sun and
go swimming." Wanda smiled. "Just wait until you see your swim
suit, its a black nylon and spandex tank, with high cut legs that
make them look like they're longer and..."

"But I can't wear one of your bathing suits," Bill protested.

"And why not?"

"Well for one thing, I really don't have the shape for it."

"No kidding. But darling so what if you can't wear your hip pads,
no one is around to see you anyway."

"Hip pads?"

"The second part of your surprise, I made some hip pads to uh, fill
your skirts and pants out a little. In fact, I made several pair,
they were easy once I got the hang of it. I just sandwiched some
foam rubber between two pair of bike shorts and sewed them up so
the padding wouldn't slip. Want to see?"

Bill could only nod numbly. Wanda reached into her suitcase and
withdrew two beige garments that looked a little like bulky bike
shorts or a long legged panty girdle. There was a third garment
which looked like a control panty brief.

Wanda handed him the short legged garment. "You should wear this
one today. I picked out shorts that don't have a very long inseam.
When you're wearing a skirt or longer shorts, you should wear one
of the others."

Bill nodded and started to pull the well padded garment on. Wanda
stopped him. "You forgot something," she said handing him a pair
of panties. Bill grinned and pulled them up to his waist.

Wanda smiled as she watched her husband pull on the padded hips and
adjust his breast prosthesis in the cups of his bra. He looked
like a girl even without any make up on.

Later, just before they would go for a walk on the beach, she would
put a little mascara and some lipstick on him. Then she would
present him with the third surprise, several pair of women's shoes
in his size.

Her darling sissy husband would never again have to walk barefoot
in his dresses again. Unless he wanted to that is.

-0-0-0-

"I can't believe that this week went by so fast Billie," Wanda
sighed.

It was the sixth day they had spent at the beach. They would have
to leave the vacation rental the following morning. From the
beginning of the second day, Bill never removed his girl's
clothing, except for when they made love that is. Wanda was very
pleased with her plan to let her husband out of the closet. The
extra stimulation of wearing her clothing, especially her soft sexy
panties and nightgowns, had made Bill perform like he was a super
stud.

She had loved every second of the vacation, and best of all she had
never seen Bill look so rested. When he was wearing her clothing,
it was almost as though he had really been another person -- Billie
he had called himself.

"And I can't believe that you talked me into getting a tan like
this," Bill sighed.

The week had been a lot of fun and a tremendous turn on for him.
Now that the cold reality of having to return home was finally
sinking in, he almost was beginning regret some of the things he'd
done.

His dark tan lines were in the shape of a very skimpy woman's
bikini bathing suit. It looked terrific when he had been wearing
the suit, or revealing clothing, but now standing in the nude, he
looked as though he was still wearing the bikini. Between the
combination of the tan and his hairless legs, it would be a long
time before he would be able to remove his shirt or pants in
public.

"You know what I've been thinking?" Wanda asked as she slipped her
nightgown over her head.

"No, what?" Bill said. He had already put his nightgown on and was
waiting for Wanda to come to bed.

"Why don't you stay like that until we get home," Wanda suggested.

"What? No way!" Bill protested.

"Why not? We'll be in the car for most of the trip, we don't even
have to get out of the car to eat, we can go through a drive
through somewhere."

"What about if I have to go to the bathroom?" Bill asked, becoming
interested in extending Billie for another day.

"You do what I do, use the ladies room -- and don't forget to sit!"
Wanda laughed.

"Okay, I'll do it. But you'll have to drive, I can't risk being
stopped. My driver's license doesn't quite match the way I look
remember."

"Good! Now that its settled, come here and make love to me," Wanda
said coyly.

-0-0-0-

"Do you have everything in the car?" Wanda asked Bill as she
finished up the breakfast dishes.

"Think so, I'll take another look around the house just to make
sure," Bill replied. He turned and walked through the dining room
into the living room. Wanda turned and watched him, marveling at
how good he looked in a sundress with thin shoulder straps,
pantyhose and high heels.

It was the first time either of them had worn anything more than
shorts and tank tops or a swim suit. Even the bra he had to wear
was new to him. When Wanda had given him the strapless bra to
wear, Bill was dubious about the ability of the bra to support his
heavy ersatz breasts without shoulder straps. It took several
minutes of him walking around to be convinced.

Bill had quickly gotten the hang of wearing his high heels even
though his experience had been limited. Of course, the two hour
practice sessions every night as he wore the high heeled marabou
slides helped considerably.

Wanda was pleased about how the week had turned out. Both she and
Bill had learned something about themselves and each other. She
loved her husband, there could never be any question about that.

But she liked him as a woman a little more. When he put on his
panties and bra in the morning and slipped into the feminine
persona of Billie, the subtle underlying tension that always seemed
to be present when he was Bill, seemed to disappear. It was only
when he was Billie that they could be friends as well as husband
and wife.

-0-0-0-

Bill walked though the dinning room into the living room. He
stopped for a second to look at the fireplace and remembered that
first night when Wanda had suggested that he wear her clothing. It
had been a terrifying moment especially when she had suggested that
he wear her sexiest nightgown. He had suspected at that point that
she was aware that he liked to wear women's clothing, but the
thought of being actually confronted with it had almost made him
sick.

Now, he chuckled to himself, it will be depressing to take the
clothing off, especially the pantyhose and high heels. He spun
around allowing the skirt of his sundress to flair outward, unaware
that Wanda could see him through the open doorways to the kitchen.

Wanda smiled when she saw the very feminine move. She dreaded the
moment when he'd start wearing his male clothing full time again.
He was a much nicer person to be around when he was dressed as
Billie. Having him full time as Bill, never to see Billie again
except for perhaps holidays and vacations, was almost like the
death of a dear and highly valued friend.

She wondered if she dared trying to talk him into being Billie full
time. She'd read about men who lived full time as women, fooling
everyone who knew them, transgender she thought it was called, to
know that it was possible.

If he would agree to it, they could find him a doctor that would
give him female hormones so that he could grow his own breasts and
not have to worry about his prosthesis slipping out at a most
embarrassing time.

-0-0-0-

When Bill spun around, he ended up facing away from the fireplace
and towards the couch. It was a good thing he had turned around,
otherwise he would have missed seeing Wanda's purse sitting on the
arm of the couch and leave it behind. Since she would be driving,
it might prove to be embarrassing if they were stopped and he was
the only one with a driver's license.

Bill took a step toward the couch. As he stepped down, one of his
high heels landed on the very edge of the thick Oriental rug. His
foot slipped a fraction of an inch. Unprepared for the abrupt
movement, Bill pitch forward and knocked Wanda's purse to the
floor, scattering its contents.

Bill picked himself up, and checked his pantyhose for runs.
Satisfied that they had escaped unharmed, he returned his attention
to Wanda's purse. Sighing, Bill got down on his hands and knees
and began picking up the contents of the purse.

Thinking that he'd found everything, he started to rise, then
noticed a gold tube of lipstick he'd missed laying just under the
front of the couch. He reached for the tube and accidently knocked
it further under the couch. Bill reached under the couch and felt
around with his hand.

"Got it!" he said to himself when his fingers touched a cool
cylindrical object. He pulled it out and was disappointed to find
that what he had thought was the fugitive lipstick tube, was
actually a crystal about the same size and shape. Wrapped around
one end of the crystal was what appeared to be gold wiring. A
small loop of the same material stuck out from the end of the
crystal. It was obviously worthless, otherwise the rightful owner
wouldn't have left without it.

"Bill, I'm ready to go," Wanda called, interrupting his inspection
of the crystal. He tossed it onto the cushion of the couch and
stood up.

"I'll be right there honey," Bill said brushing off the skirt of
his sundress. He took a moment to take one last look around then
followed Wanda out the door.

-0-0-0-

They had been on the road for over an hour before Wanda brought up
her suggestion that Bill remain Billie after they returned home.

"But what about my job? I couldn't just walk in wearing a skirt
and blouse and suddenly announce that I was going to live as a
woman," Bill protested.

"No, maybe not. But why would you want to go back to work? I make
enough to support us both if we're careful. Besides, until your
breasts grow out, you might want to stay home anyway."

"My breasts grow out?" Bill asked incredulously. "Are you
suggesting that I take female hormones?"

"Sure, why not. Look, honey, when I found out your little secret,
I read every book that I could find in the library on the subject
of cross dressers, transsexuals and transgenderests. Amazing
subjects. You could live the life of a woman, and still be a man,
breasts and all."

Bill shook his head, "I... I'm not sure that I'm ready for
something like that."

"Honey, you'd be a natural. With a little more work, some voice
lessons and maybe a little electrolysis, you would make a very
attractive girl. Why don't you just think about it until we get
home, okay?"

"It might be kind of fun... But, I don't know," Bill said
doubtfully. "Alright, I'll think about it." Bill yawned and
closed his eyes, "Right after I take a little nap."

Wanda drove on for another twenty miles before she glanced over to
check on Bill. The honking of a another car brought her attention
back to the task of driving the car just long enough to put her
foot on the brakes and pull on to the shoulder of the road.

Wanda checked to make sure she was well off the road and turned off
the engine. When she had completed this, she twisted in her seat
and frankly stared at her husband.

Bill was either still sleeping or unconscious, she couldn't tell
which. That bothered her, but not as much as what was happening to
Bill.

He was shrinking before her very eyes!

Oblivious to the traffic racing on the road behind her, Wanda
hesitantly touched Bill's arm. His skin felt as thought it was
alive under her finger tips. She swallowed hard and shook him. He
didn't respond to her touch.

Wanda's attention was drawn to his chest. His prominent but false
breasts seemed to be expanding at an alarming rate. It was almost
as if he had inserted balloons in the cups of his bra and was
blowing them up.

Wanda slipped the shoulder straps of the sundress off of Bill's
shoulders. There was far less resistance than she had expected, of
course, the dress now appeared to be several sizes too large now.
Fearful of what she might find under the front of the dress, Wanda
slowly pulled it down over the strapless bra. The breast
prophesies seemed as though they were being pushed away from his
chest by something underneath them.
Wanda's hands shook as she pulled first one then the other breast
form free from the cups of the bra. She expected to see the cups
collapse when the breast forms were removed. They did, but not
very much. Wanda pulled the bra down and was stunned to see two
very real breasts slowly expanding on Bill's chest. She cupped one
in her hand, feeling its warmth and shape. Pressing it gently, as
though she was doing a self examination of her own breast, Wanda
explored every inch of the soft mound.

It was a real breast, complete with large plump nipples and the
network of glands that would someday produce just the right amount
of milk for a baby. Milk for a baby? Wanda jerked her hand away
from the warm flesh as though it had been a hot coal.

She pulled the skirt of the sundress up to Bill's waist. She
couldn't see much change, if anything his hips seemed a little
smaller even under the padding. Steeling herself for what she knew
she would find, Wanda placed her finger tips on the crotch of the
padded hips and pushed inward.

Her fingers were met with a resistance, but not the one she
expected. She pushed a little harder against the soft fabric of
the bike shorts. Even through two layers of the shorts, a pair of
panties and pantyhose, she could feel a depression where one
shouldn't have existed.

She leaned back and watched Bill's body continue its metamorphosis
for a few minutes longer. Yes, he was definitely going to be
smaller, much smaller. Wanda pulled the skirt of the dress down
and adjusted the now too large bra. Pulling the shoulder straps
back over his shoulders required virtually no effort.

Satisfied that her husband -- or whatever it was that he was
changing into -- was decent again, Wanda sat back in her seat and
waited for Billie to wake up.

They would have a lot to talk about.


The Dark Crystal
by Olivia Evans

Part 4

Renting the cabin had been his publisher's idea.

Personally, William "Bill" Howard, author of seventeen best selling
novels and countless short stories, hated the ocean, the cold damp air
and the solitude of the beach in late August. But most of all he
hated the fact that he had been ordered, actually ordered to stay at
the beach cabin until he finished the final 10 chapters of his book!

He kept running the conversation through his mind, wondering where he
could have flat refused to go to this God forsaken hole.

"Bill," his publisher had said, "you haven't written a word in nearly
six weeks."

Bill, who was starting to feel his seventy plus years stroked his
neatly trimmed gray beard and shook his head. "I'm sorry Jim. The
words just don't seem to come as easy as they used to."

"If you would give up a couple of your girl friends, they might!"

"Now wait a minute, first of all, I don't have a couple of girl
friends, I only have one."

"And she's young enough to be my daughter," Jim said. The smile on
his face lacked any sign of humor.

"Hey, she's not that young, she's almost 25, and..."

"And she's wearing you out."

Bill sighed, knowing that Jim was right, but not for the reason that
he suspected. The "girl friend" was actually a therapist that came
over every few days to help him with his exercises. "Okay, okay!
I'll ask her not to come over for a few days."

"I've got a better idea," Jim said handing Bill a small brown
envelope.

"What's this?"

"A map and a set of keys to a nice little get away spot that you're
going to stay at until you've written at least 10 chapters of your
book."

"Ten chapters?" Bill asked startled. "Why that's nearly a quarter of
a million words and will finish the book!"

"Bill, I can remember when you could whip that amount out in two
weeks..."

"Yeah, well, at my age, everything is a little slower."

"Then I'll make arrangements to extend the rent to a total of two
months, rather than one."

"But what about...?"

"Bill, you're going, and that's all there is to it!"

"What if I gave my advance back and told you to go to Hell?"

"Do you still have it?"

Bill shook his head and sighed in defeat. "You know I don't."

Jim sat back in his chair and smiled. "There's a car and driver
waiting for you down stairs. You can leave directly from here."

"What about the things I'll need?"

"Everything you'll need is already at the cabin, even your favorite
word processor, plenty of disks, about ten reams of paper, food and
clothing. All that's lacking to make it perfect is you."

"Awfully damned sure of yourself aren't you?" Bill didn't wait for a
reply as he stood up and walked to the door.

Jim stared at the closed door for a moment, glad that it was over. He
picked up his half filled coffee cup and saluted the door. "No, Bill,
I'm not sure of myself, but I do know you. If I didn't force you to
do this we'd never get the book out of you."

-0-0-0-

Bill Howard watched the chauffeur driven car drive away before going
into what Jim had loosely described as a "cabin on the beach."

The two story, turn of the century style ranch house, was deceptive
from the outside. Its graying and weather beaten siding made it look
far older than its actual age of slightly less than ten years.

Clues to its true age could be seen on the outside if you looked close
enough. All the windows, including those in the glassed in porch that
went around three sides of the building, were energy conserving double
panes. On the roof, discreetly hidden behind ornate wooden lattices,
were solar water heaters.

It was more than a beach front cabin he realized when he finally went
inside. The weathered siding of the house concealed the fact that
inside it was almost as nice as his own high rise apartment. Almost.

Bill was tired, tired of traveling, tired of writing, tired of the old
age that had slowly crepted up on him, but most of all, he was tired
of the dull ache that was a constant reminder of the arthritis that
had almost sapped his will to live.

He started to move slowly through the house, just seeing where
everything was. He was pleased to see that they had set up his word
processor on the dining room table, close to the kitchen, the
downstairs bathroom and the living room where the large fire place
was. He entered the dining room, bent over the word processor and
hesitated. Had he actually heard a faint noise coming from the
kitchen? A noise that sounded almost as though someone was humming?

He cautiously walked to the closed door leading into the kitchen and
opened it a crack. Peering through the crack, he saw a young woman,
maybe eighteen years old, putting groceries away in the cupboards.
The girl was an attractive brunette with a nice figure, wearing blue
jeans, a white t-shirt, white tennis shoes without socks. She wore no
jewelry other than a thin gold chain around one wrist and a black
sports style watch on the other.

Bill opened the door a little more and gave a small cough. The girl
spun around and nearly dropped the can of peaches she was holding.

"Mr. Howard?" she asked staring at the gray haired old man's
impressive full beard. Bill nodded, keeping his face expressionless.
"I wasn't expecting you for another two hours."

"Who are you?" Bill asked.

"My name's Corrie Malone, my dad's the Realtor that rents the house
out for the Johnson's," the young girl stepped closer and held out her
hand. Bill shook it briefly then dropped his hand to his side. "I
was just putting things away."

"So I see. I didn't notice a car outside, is someone going to pick
you up later?"

"No, I've got my dirt bike out back. But, I..." Corrie hesitated, it
was obvious to her that Mr. Howard wasn't aware of the arrangements.
"Mr. Howard, you are aware that the rental included a housekeeper?"

"A housekeeper?" Bill shook his head and waited for the young woman
to continue.

"Not a full time housekeeper, of course. Just from 10:00 AM till
after dinner."

"I see and you're my housekeeper? Kind of young aren't you?"

"When my Dad got the call and I found out who would be living here, I
asked if I could have the job. Believe it or not, I am a pretty good
housekeeper."

"I see. Why did you want to work for me?" Bill asked half suspecting
the answer.

"Well, I've read most of your books and..."

"What did you think of them?" Bill asked interrupting the young
woman. "Your honest opinion please."

Corrie hesitated then shrugged her slender shoulders. "They were
okay, good plots and characterization. But, I think that they lack
something. I -- I'm not sure that I know how to define it, a warmth
maybe."

Bill smiled to himself. "A 'warmth'? They're murder mysteries, not
romance novels." "I know Mr. Howard, but still...."

"Call me Bill."

"I know Bill, it's just that your main character, Detective Peters
always has a girl friend, yet there never seems to be a real
relationship between them. No real love."

"No real love?" Bill snorted. There was always at least three
bedroom scenes in each of his novels. He was about to remind Corrie
of this fact when he realized that she wasn't talking about raw sex.
"You're probably right, Corrie. Maybe that's why my wife left me, I
wasn't romantic enough."

"I'm sorry Bill, that must have been rough," Corrie said sincerely.

"Don't be. She left me nearly forty years ago," Bill smiled sadly.
"Most of the pain has long since gone."

Bill looked out of the kitchen window for a few seconds remembering
Susan. Maybe it was best that she left when she had.

"Mr. Howard? Bill? It's nearly noon, would you like some lunch?"
Corrie's question brought Bill back to the present. "Soup and a
sandwich okay?"

"That would be fine. While you're fixing lunch, I'll just explore the
house a little."

-0-0-0-

Bill wandered around the house, wondering who the original owners had
been and why they had decided to rent the place out. The only thing
that really impressed him was the huge stone fire place. Its fire box
was large enough to burn small trees. Even a small fire would heat
the entire house if it had to.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor slowly, he was after all
old, and the damp ocean air made him feel even older. Later he would
build a fire and try to take the chill out of the house and his bones,
although that would be a first.

In spite of his distaste for the ocean and the dull aches and pain the
cold damp air brought on, he was impressed with the view from the
second floor master bedroom. Two large French doors faced the sea and
opened out to a balcony that made up the roof of the glassed in porch.
He opened one of the doors and stepped out onto the balcony, and
looked down at the deserted beach.

He started to think about how he could incorporate the loneliness of
the house and beach into the plot of his book. Perhaps if Detective
Peters were to...

"Bill? Lunch is ready," Corrie's voice came from the stairway,
interrupting his thoughts.

Sighing, Bill returned inside and walked stiffly down the stairs.
Going down was almost as bad as going up. He could have had Corrie
make up a bed in one of the downstairs rooms, but had decided not to.
The view from the master bedroom was too spectacular not to take the
effort to climb the stairs.

-0-0-0-

"This is delicious," Bill exclaimed as he tasted the soup, a thick
cream of brocoli. Corrie looked pleased.

"It's from a recipe book my grandmother left me. It's my favorite."

"And as I said, it's delicious! You've done a much maligned vegetable
incredible justice," Bill noticed that Corrie was standing by the sink
watching him eat. "Corrie, aren't you going to eat too?"

She shook her head, "No, I'll eat later. After you're done."

"Being the good little servant girl, huh? Nonsense little lady, grab
yourself a bowl and sit down! I hate to eat alone, although that's
what I usually end up doing." He grinned and wiped a drop of soup
from his beard.

Corrie got another bowl from the cupboard and filled it. She sat down
and shifted her body uneasily. Sensing her uneasiness, Bill smiled
disarmingly.

"Now then, Corrie, if you're going to be my housekeeper, we need to
know a little about each other. You first, my life story will take a
little longer than yours, I suspect," Bill chuckled.

As Corrie started telling Bill about herself, he allowed his mind to
wander. Maybe he could change the name of Detective Peters's girl
friend.

-0-0-0-

"Corrie! I thought I asked you not to do that! I may be old enough
to be your grandfather, but I'm not crippled. I can bring my own fire
wood in," Bill said nearly a week later.

The relationship between himself and Corrie had grown from
employer/employee to any easy friendship. He watched as the girl
dropped the armful of logs into the wood box next to the stone
fireplace.

In spite of his assertion that he was capable of brining in his own
firewood, he was glad she had done it. At his age he had to conserve
his strength. Now on the other hand, if he had been her age -- if he
were her age, she wouldn't be bringing in wood for the fire, they both
would be laying naked in front of it.

If he were only fifty years younger and didn't suffer from the damned
arthritis, Bill sighed. Even forty years younger would be nice -- as
long as he had a sound and healthy body again. "Bill, do you mind if
I leave a little early today?" Corrie asked brushing off her hands on
the seat of her snug fitting jeans.

"Of course not. Got a hot date or something?"

"Or something," Corrie replied, there was a slight hint of a twinkle
in her eyes. She's up to something, Bill thought.

Corrie wanted to leave early so that she could do a little shopping.
She had just found out that Bill's birthday, his seventy first, was
the next day and she wanted to buy him a sweater to ease the chill out
of the cold evenings. The nights were becoming cooler and she thought
he would like it.

Bill had to fix his own dinner that night, a task he was no stranger
to. While not quite as good as Corrie, he was a passable cook. He
washed his dishes and wandered back into the living room, carefully
avoiding the dinning room and his yet unused word processor.

No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't get into the mood to
write. He knew that it was just a class A writer's block that would
pass eventually, but still he felt guilty about not working on his
novel.

He sat on the overstuffed couch watching the fire for a few minutes.
He had forgotten how good a fire could feel on a damp night like this.
After a while, however, he became bored and wandered back into the
kitchen. It was while he was searching for some coffee grounds for a
pot of coffee that he discovered a book Corrie had been reading.

Expecting to find a trashy romance novel, he read the title and was
surprised to see that it was one of his first novels. Written nearly
thirty five years earlier, Bill could only dimly remember the plot.
He thumbed through it reading a paragraph or two while the coffee
perked.

"Well, I've always heard that the author was a fairly competent
wordsmith, maybe I'll slip into something more comfortable and read a
few pages before I go to bed," Bill chuckled to himself.

A few minutes later, Bill had changed into his pajamas and robe and
was sitting comfortably on the couch with his feet propped up on a
pillow on the coffee table. He was in his favorite position for a
cold night by himself, in front of a fire, reading what was turning
out to be a surprisingly good book.

In spite of having written the book himself, he soon became wrapped up
in the plot. He had forgotten enough of the story that each turn of a
page brought new surprises and ideas for his current work.

About thirty pages into the book, Bill began to feel the pressures of
a full bladder. Setting the book down, he threw another log on the
fire and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself, then out to
the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

When he returned, he leaned his back against the side of an arm,
stretched his legs out on the couch and began reading again. Or at
least tried to, there seemed to be something wrong with the couch.
There was a lump right under his rear, which was positioned right on
the gap between two cushions. There was something wedged between
them, something hard. Moving slightly, Bill reached carefully under
his rear and between the cushions. Feeling the object he pulled it
out. It was some kind of cylinder shaped object. Sliding his reading
glasses down to his nose, something he hadn't needed when he'd written
the book he was reading, Bill looked at the object.

The smoky colored quartz crystal like object was about the size of a
twelve gauge shotgun shell, he decided. It appeared to be natural
quartz crystal, with some man made improvements, thin gold wires
wrapped tightly around one side. At the end with the wires, a small
gold loop was attached, making the crystal look like an oversized
pendant for one of those "healing crystal" necklaces. It had
obviously been left behind by one of the previous renters.

Bill set it on the side table, intending to tell Corrie about it in
the morning, and returned to his reading. About two hours later, he
yawned and went upstairs to bed, the crystal already forgotten.

-0-0-0-

Corrie kicked the kick stand on her dirt bike and got off the small
motorcycle. She glanced at the face of her small watch, it was barely
nine AM.

She had returned earlier than normal to the beach house. She wanted
to have the cake finished before lunch and needed at least an hour to
prepare and bake.

Going inside the kitchen she removed her helmet and set it on the
counter next to the coffee maker. Seeing that Bill hadn't finished
the pot he'd made the night before, Corrie dumped the cold coffee out
and made a fresh pot. Bill normally didn't get out of bed for another
half hour or so, showering and getting dressed just before she
arrived. In spite of being a late riser, he always had a pot of
coffee perking when she arrived.

Corrie really liked the old man, she thought he was one of the most
intelligent men she'd ever met. He was funny, kind, considerate and
respected her as a person. Best of all, he wasn't like the men, boys
really, she knew in the village, who were always trying to get into
her panties.

If he were about fifty years younger however, she just might let him
succeed. Corrie smiled at the thought, she'd never kissed a man with
a beard before. She wondered if was scratchy or if it tickled. Maybe
she could use the excuse of his birthday to find out.

Corrie decided that she would do something nice for Bill and serve him
breakfast in bed. It wasn't everyday that you celebrated your seventy
first birthday after all.

She knew what he liked. She should, after having washed his dirty
breakfast dishes every morning when she arrived.

Humming "Happy Birthday" softly to herself, Corrie carried the bed
table with Bill's Birthday breakfast carefully up the stairs. She
paused just long enough at the bedroom door to light the single candle
stuck in the stack of pancakes, knock lightly on the door jam and call
out.

"Bill, breakfast is ready! Happy Birthday to you, happy birth..." she
sang as she stepped into the bedroom. She had been prepared for
almost anything except for what she saw.

"Who are you?" Corrie asked when she saw the attractive blonde haired
woman sit up in the middle of the queen sized bed. She was wearing
Bill's pajamas and had obviously just awakened.

"Corrie? What are you doing here so early?" the startled blonde
asked.

The blonde's look of surprise at seeing someone else in the bedroom,
turned to one of horror as her mouth suddenly snapped shut. She
pulled out the front of Bill's pajamas she was wearing and stared down
at her chest, her eyes almost as large as the pancakes Corrie had
made.

Realizing that she still was holding the bed table, Corrie blew out
the candle and set the breakfast on the dresser, never letting the
other woman out of her line of sight.

The blonde had continued her silent inspection of herself, totally
ignoring Corrie. She was no longer looking down the front of her
pajama top, but now intently inspecting the back of her hands. She
was acting as though she'd never seen them before as she opened and
closed them into fists.

"Who are you, and where's Bill?" Corrie demanded regaining her
composure.

At the mention of Bill's name, the girl looked up helplessly at
Corrie. The look of anguish was so great on her face that Corrie took
a step toward the bed, then stopped, not quite sure what she should
do.

The girl opened her mouth and uttered a little squeak, cleared her
throat and tried to speak again. It wasn't much better.

"I -- I'm Bill and I'm a woman," she said in an anguished tone and
promptly passed out.

Corrie was scared to death. First she finds a gorgeous girl in the
bed of a sweet old man who seemed to be missing, then the girl says
that she's Bill and then she passes out before she can explain what
the Hell was going on!

Half scared that the girl had suddenly died from a heart attack or
something, Corrie cautiously approached the bed.

The blonde with the boyishly short hair style, looked familiar, but
Corrie couldn't place where she had seen her before. Nor could she
remember seeing any girl that was that tiny. Not more than a size
five or six. The smallest girl that Corrie knew wore a size 10, and
that was herself.

She took another look at the prone figure and decided on what she had
to do. Walking backwards, half afraid that the girl would disappear
to where ever Bill had disappeared to, Corrie made her way to the
master bathroom.

-0-0-0-

Bill had been suddenly awakened from a sound sleep by Corrie's voice
as she sang "Happy Birthday". Startled awake, he had sat up in bed
and asked her what she was doing there.

As soon as he had uttered the question, his sleep drugged mind
realized that something was wrong. His voice sounded strangely high
pitched and his chest felt funny. Gripping the front of his pajama
top that had seemed to grow about ten sizes too large, Bill pulled it
away from his body and looked inside.

Being a man with a normal sex drive, Bill had seen hundreds of women's
breasts, both completely and partially exposed, in photographs and in
real life. But never in all of his seventy one years had he seen a
pair from the angle he was seeing them now.

Never before had he seen a pair firmly attached to his own chest!

With a mind that was almost too numb to comprehend what it was seeing,
Bill shifted his attention to his hands, or rather the back of his
hands. Astonishingly, he could see them clearly, even without the aid
of his glasses.

When he had gone to bed the night before, the lose, heavily wrinkled
skin had been covered with age spots and gray hair. His veins had
been prominent and he had suffered a minor attack of arthritis that
had forced his hands into a painful claw like position.

Now his the skin on the back of his hands was firm, smooth, completely
clear of blemishes and absolutely free from pain of any kind.
Although oddly, the scar on the palm of his hand, the result of an
accident when he'd been six, was still in the same location.

It was a young man's -- young woman's skin, Bill corrected himself
thinking of the firm breasts attached to his chest.

"Who are you, and where's Bill?" The sound of Corrie's voice filled
with a strange mixture of fear and anger brought Bill back to reality.

He tried to speak, choked and tried again.

"I -- I'm Bill and I'm a woman," he managed to say before everything
went black.

-0-0-0-

Bill awoke to the sharp smell of ammonia. He opened his eyes to find
Corrie leaning over him holding an ammonia ampule in her hand. He
shook his head and pushed Corrie's hand away.

"That's enough," he said, then sneezed.

"Alright. Now who are you and where is Bill?" Corrie asked again.

Bill looked at his young housekeeper. "I know that this will be hard
for you to believe, but I am Bill -- William Howard."

"I hate to state the obvious girl, but you can't be. Bill was an old
man with gray hair and beard. Neither of which you seem to have,"
Corrie snapped. Bill rubbed his soft hairless cheeks, he hadn't
thought about his beard.

"Never the less, I AM Bill Howard. Now then, if you'll move out of
the way, I've got to go to the bathroom. That is unless you don't
mind cleaning up a mess?" Bill smiled.

Corrie's sense of compassion guided her response. She moved aside and
allowed the blonde to get out of bed. As Bill stood up, his pajama
bottoms, made for a man with a forty inch waist, slid to the floor.
Both women stared at the colorful pajama bottoms for a second. The
top of the pajamas fit like a tent and extended down to mid thigh.

"Looks like I'm going to need some new clothes," Bill quipped. He
stepped lightly out of the pajama bottoms, walked rapidly to the
bathroom and used the toilet while a very confused Corrie sat on the
edge of the bed and waited. "Well, now that was different!" Bill
said more to himself than to Corrie, as he returned to the bedroom.

He had rolled up the long sleeves of the pajama top by the time he
returned to the bedroom. It was now easier to see his hands, but the
cool morning air on his bare rear under the pajama top made him felt
half dressed.

"Now then, where were we? Oh, yes. I was trying to convince you that
I am Bill Howard... uh, slightly transformed, but myself none the
less."

Corrie stood up when Bill reached the side of the bed, the first time
they had both been standing. Bill tilted his head back to see the
young woman's face. She was about five seven he knew, so he was
obviously a short woman, a petite woman, he corrected himself.

He had lost about a foot in height and could see the difference in his
perspective of the bedroom furniture, yet strangely, he didn't feel
short. It was almost as if everything in his body had adjusted itself
to the new height and weight he suddenly found himself in.

"What did you do with Bill? Did you sleep here with him last night?"
Corrie demanded, "if I don't get some straight answers out of you, I'm
going to call the Sheriff!"

Bill looked at the young woman in surprise.

"Sleep with him? Why Corrie, do I detect a note of jealousy in your
voice?" Bill teased, then grew serious. "Corrie, calm down for a
minute, will you? I assure you, I am who I say I am. Only right now,
I seem to be in the body of a girl. Don't ask me how, but its true."

"How can I believe that cock and bull story? What did you do with Mr.
Howard!"

Bill sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I'll try to
prove it to you. Ask me a question that only Bill would know."

"What was the name of your third book and how high did it get on the
Times' Best Seller list?"

Bill frowned. He may have suddenly found himself in the body of a
girl fifty years younger than himself, but his mind was still seventy
one years old. He couldn't even remember what the name of his third
book was, let alone how high it had gone on the Best Seller list.

"I don't remember," he admitted sadly. "I wrote it almost forty years
ago."

"See! You couldn't even answer a simple question like that! That
proves you're not Mr. Howard." Corrie said folding her arms over
breasts in triumph.

"Call me Bill," Bill said absently, his mind still on the question.
What WAS the name of that damned book? "I'm truly sorry, Corrie. It
seems that while the body appears much younger, I'm still seventy one
years old up here." Bill tapped his forehead with his forefinger.
"Alright, I'll ask you a question about something that happened here
within the last week. Something that no one but Mr. Howard would
know."

"Okay, fire away," Bill sighed, not sure that he would be able to
answer this one either..

"What did I say about Bill's writing?" Corrie asked smugly.

"More about my books? What did...? Oh, yeah. You said and I'll try
to remember your exact words, you said that 'they were okay, had good
plots and characterization'. But, you thought that they lacked
something. You called it a 'warmth' between Detective Peters and his
girl friends."

The smug look on Corrie's face faded. "How did you know that?"

Bill smiled, his confidence returning. "I was there?"

Corrie shifted uneasily, maybe this woman WAS telling the truth, as
insane as it seemed. No, that was impossible!

But hadn't Bill himself said that truth was stranger than fiction?
There had to be a logical answer to all this. Corrie suddenly
remembered a plot that had been in one of Mr. Howard's books, the
fifth she thought. A murderer had assumed the identity of the victim,
trying to commit the perfect crime. Maybe that was the answer, the
blonde had killed Mr. Howard and was trying to assume his identity.
But how could she expect to do that -- Mr. Howard was an old man and
this person was obviously a much younger woman. No, it was too
incredible to be true, but if it wasn't some kind of weird plot, then
it could be that she was telling the truth and was Bill Howard.

Bill watched the look of growing confusion cross his young
housekeeper's face. He knew exactly what she was going through. He
had gone through the same denial/acceptance process himself. He'd
been quicker to accept the truth, but that was only because of the
physical evidence.

Physical Evidence! That was it! The body change hadn't removed the
evidence of a childhood accident. He quickly checked the palm of his
hand again, then grinned.

"Corrie? Do you remember asking about the scar on the palm of my --
Bill's left hand?"

"Yes, Bill said that he'd seen a juggling act in a circus when he'd
been five or six, and was trying to learn how to juggle -- using real
butcher knives from his mother's kitchen...." Corrie's mouth dropped
open as Bill turned his slender hand over. The odd "W" shaped scar
was in exactly the same spot Bill's had been. Corrie reached out and
hesitantly ran her finger lightly over the thin pale "W". The scar
was real!

"I assure you it is the same, well almost the same, scar."

"Oh, my God! You are Bill!" Corrie exclaimed and sat down heavily
next to him. "But how? Why?"

"My dear, if I knew the answer to those questions, I could make a
small fortune in a few days," Bill smiled.

"But -- you're -- were a man!" Corrie stammered, blushing. "How do
you feel?"

It was a question that Bill had been asking himself. How did he feel?
Bill stood and walked to the center of the room. Flexing his body
slightly, he raised his hands above his head, then bent over and
flipped up into a hand stand.

Corrie's mouth dropped open again in astonishment as Bill balanced his
slender, petite body easily on his small hands.

Corrie had almost giggled when the huge pajama top fell over the
blonde's head and slid down her slender arms. If there had been any
doubt about the sex of the blonde, there wasn't now! With a body that
looked that good, she certainly wasn't a man!

Bill laughed and stood up. The pajama top fell back around his thighs
again, much to Corrie's relief.

"How do I feel? Corrie, how old do I look to you?"

She shook her head, "I don't know... Twenty, twenty one? Not much
more than that, I guess."

"Twenty or twenty one," Bill mused. "Corrie how would you feel if you
were old and crippled and had suddenly been given a young healthy body
and a chance to live for another fifty or sixty years?"

"But you were a man... Aren't you upset about losing...? I mean --
finding yourself in the body of a woman? Doesn't that bother you?"
Corrie asked incuriously. "Being a woman?" Bill looked thoughtful
for a minute. "Corrie, I once asked you for your honest opinion of my
writing, now I'm going to ask you to be honest with me again."

"Okay," Corrie said. "I'll try."

"This is a little unfair, because you're not old enough to know any
different. Which sex is the superior one? Male or female?"

"Superior? I suppose... I, uh... Men, I guess," Corrie said
hesitantly, conditioned by a life time of imposed social values.

"Corrie, let me give you a little bit of wisdom about women that I
have gained over some sixty odd years of experience. Neither sex is
superior to the other. Both have unique advantages and disadvantages
over the other. I was a man for a long time and had a lot of girl
friends. Most I went to bed with at one time or another," Bill paused
thinking back over his life. "And I loved every second of it. But
you know what?"

Corrie shook her head.

"I've always wondered what it felt like to be a woman, to be made love
to by a man, to have periods, even what it felt like to have and nurse
babies." Bill smiled when he saw the odd look of revulsion cross
Corrie's face.

"No, I'm not a transsexual," he laughed, looking down at the twin
mounds tenting his pajama top. "At least I wasn't before now. I had
no desire to actually be a woman, you understand, but I was curious
just the same."

"But now you are one," Corrie said softly.

"Yes, and now I am one."

"But what will you do now? How will you live? What about your
writing?"

"Corrie, the typewriter -- or word processor now a days, doesn't care
one bit if the fingers that stroke its keys are thick and hairy or
slender and have polished fingernails. I have earned a good living
writing and will continue to do so in the future. As for how will I
live? Well, I'll take it one day at a time and live life as it
happens, just as I always have."

Corrie threw her arms around the petite woman who had once been an old
man. "I hope you're happy in your new life."

"I'm sure I will be," Bill replied, returning the hug. He kissed
Corrie on the cheek. "Thank you for caring about me."

"What are you going to do first?" Corrie asked.

"First? Why not a thing. You're going to have to do it for me," Bill
smiled.

"I am? What is that?"

Bill stood up and allowed his pajama top to slide to the floor. He
spun around in a circle on his toes, then walked toward the door to
the bathroom. "First of all Corrie dear, you're going to go to the
village and buy me some clothing that will fit this wonderful new body
of mine." "And what are you going to do while I'm gone?" Corrie
called out over the sound of the shower being turned on.

Bill stuck his head out of the door to the bathroom. "I think that
I'll shave these hairy legs and under arms of mine. There isn't much
there, but what there is, is just so gross, don't you think? Then I'm
going..." Bill grinned and pulled his head back into the bathroom.

Curious, Corrie walked over to the door and leaned against the door
jam. She watched as Bill stepped lightly into the shower. "Then what
are you going to do?"

Bill stuck his head out between the shower curtains. "Then, I'm going
to do something I haven't done in thirty years or more. I'm going to
go skinny dipping in the ocean.

"What?" Corrie exclaimed. "But there still might be some late season
tourists on the beach! You can't do that, someone will see you!"

"Sure I can. Besides, who knows, maybe I'll find a nice handsome
young man, a man who won't mind that his new girl friend is actually a
seventy one year old 'dirty old man'." Bill winked, smiled and pulled
his head back into the shower.

Corrie shook her head and grinned. Maybe there wasn't any truth to
that old saying after all. You CAN teach old dogs new tricks!


The Dark Crystal
by Olivia Evans

Part 5

Steven and Linda Markham were newly weds and naturally excited about
their first night on what would prove to be an interesting two week
honeymoon. They planed to spend the entire two weeks in a beach house
located about three hours away from the small town of Weaverville
where they would take up residence later.

They had chosen their honeymoon spot at the recommendation of Corrie
Malone, a college classmate of Linda's and the ex-girl friend of
Steven's. Corrie's father Henry Malone, owned the Real Estate Office
that managed the rent of the beach house and had given the young
couple a discount because it was both the off season and they were
friends of his daughter.

-0-0-0-

"Wow! Would you look at the size of that fireplace?" Steven said
when they explored the house.

Linda merely glanced at the huge stone fireplace. "The whole house is
huge, certainly larger than the apartment we've rented."

"I know, Linda. But as soon as I get my MBA I'll be able to go to
work for CHEMTREX and we can afford to move into a larger place."

"We may need to do that before then, honey. Once the baby is born we
will need to move, regardless if you're working for CHEMTREX or not,"
Linda said.

Steven kissed his wife of five hours and rubbed her still flat
stomach. "When will you begin to show?"

Linda placed her hand on top of Steven's, "The doctor said I was about
six weeks along. So we still have another two, two and a half months
before I have to start wearing maternity clothes."

"Do you think anyone suspects?"

Linda laughed, "Nope, only the doctor and we know. Although I think
my mother suspects. I was pretty sick this morning and she walked in
while I was cleaning up. I told her it was just wedding day nerves.
She didn't say anything, but with her, you can never tell what she's
thinking."

"You were sick? Are you okay now?" a concerned Steven asked.

An amused look crossed Linda's face, "Yes, I'm fine, just a little
morning sickness. Normal, or so the doctor says. Don't worry, I'm
not going to let a little thing like being pregnant interfere with our
loving."

Steven removed his hand from Linda's stomach and slipped it around her
narrow waist, pulling her close to him. "Speaking of that, have I
told you that I love you?"

Linda kissed him lightly on the mouth, "Humm, not since about ten
minutes ago."

"Well I do, you know."

"I know," Linda said softly. She kissed her husband passionately.
Each kiss was a little hungrier than the previous. With obvious
reluctance, Steven broke free.

"Why don't I unpack the station wagon while you go upstairs and make
the bed?" he suggested.

Linda considered the couch for a second, the bed would be better, she
decided. "Okay, don't forget the presents."

-0-0-0-

An hour later they had unpacked and were sitting at the dining room
table, inspecting their wedding gifts. "Another toaster!" Linda
laughed.

"One more and we can open our own appliance store," Steven smiled.

"I think we should take three of them back and exchange them for a
nice microwave oven," Linda suggested. Steven nodded it was a more
practical idea than his anyway.

"We may not have to, the gift that Corrie gave us is about the right
size for a microwave," Steven nodded toward the large, still unwrapped
gift. Linda slid it across the table to Steven.

"You know, I'm really impressed with the way Corrie bounced back after
you dumped her," Linda said inspecting the silver and white wrapping
of Corrie's gift. "I certainly didn't expect her to go out of her way
like this. She even got us a discount on the rental for our
honeymoon."

Steven shook his head, "I thought she would kill me when I told her
that we were through. I guess that time really does heal old wounds."

"I'm not so sure that it did darling. You didn't see the look on her
face at the wedding, I did. It was almost as if she was basking in
some kind of hideously gruesome revenge."

They both looked at the unopened gift. Steven shifted uneasily. "You
don't think that she gave us a bomb or something like that do you?"

"Steven, shame on you! Corrie may have acted as though she was a
woman scorned, but she wouldn't do anything that crazy."

They looked at the gift again. It sat as quietly on the table as it
had a few seconds before. Steven and Linda looked up at each other.
Seeing the expression on the other's face they both broke into
laughter.

"Go ahead and open it. It's probably just a microwave." Linda said
laughing again.

Steven took a deep dramatic breath and untied the satin ribbon. He
released it nosily, bringing a bought of giggles from Linda when
nothing happened. A few seconds later the wrapping had been removed,
Steven opened the flaps of the box and looked inside.

"Well, it isn't a microwave," he said, sounding disappointed.

"What is it, honey?"

Steven pulled a new pair of panties out of the box. "Looks like she
bought you something to wear on the honeymoon," Steven looked into the
box again. "There must be an entire wardrobe in here."

"What? You're kidding. Let me see," Linda said, moving to Steven's
side and peering into the large box. "That's odd. Take it all out
and let's see what it is."

Steven began to remove the clothing, pulling out a dozen more panties,
an equal number of bras, a couple pairs of jeans, some blouses and
tops, a denim mini skirt, some women's socks, a pair of nylons, two
pair of shoes, one high heel pumps and the other a pair of white
tennis shoes, two sexy looking nightgowns and the oddest item of all,
two pair of earrings for pierced ears.

Linda didn't have pierced ears.

"Looks like you made out, honey. This stuff reflects Corrie's
excellent taste in clothes," Steven said holding up a pair of bright
teal string bikini panties.

Linda took the panties from Steven and held them up to her waist.
They were obviously too small to fit her. She dropped the panties
onto the pile of the clothing and picked up a pair of jeans. After
glancing at the label inside, Linda tossed it on the stack of clothing
and read the label of another garment. "I don't think that she meant
these for me."

Steven looked at the pile of women's clothing. "What makes you think
that they aren't for you? She certainly didn't buy them for me."

"I can't wear them dear. They're a little small. I wear a size 11
and these all appear to be in a size 5 petite. They wouldn't even fit
Corrie." "They are?" Steven picked up a bra and looked at the label,
it was a 34 "C", the cup size was right but not the chest size. "I
wonder why Corrie gave us this stuff then? What is she up to?"

Linda shivered and looked around the room quickly as though she were
watching for a deranged Corrie armed with a butcher knife to leap out
of a hidden wall panel.

"I don't know. But I'm frighted of what she could do." Linda
shivered again. "Steven, let's get out of here. We can spend our
honeymoon in the apartment."

"Honey, be reasonable. Corrie wouldn't do anything to harm us, trust
me, I knew her well enough to be absolutely sure of that." Steven
took his wife in his arms. "The clothing is just her idea of a joke
that's all. Everything will be fine."

"Do you really think so?" Linda asked tilting her head back to look
into Steven's eyes. He was surprised to see that she was crying.

"Honey, I know so. Look, I'll go get the rest of the stuff and you
can fix us something to eat."

"You're hungry?" Linda asked in surprise. "From the way you acted on
the trip from the reception, I didn't think that we would make it past
the couch in the living room."

"Darn near didn't make it past the back seat of the station wagon,"
Steven mused. "Well, you know how us old married men are, always
thinking of our stomachs first, then servicing the old lady."

"Is that a promise?"

"Servicing the old lady? Sure, but I intend to spend a lot of time in
bed, so I'll need lots and lots of food. I need all the strength I
can get," Steven grinned.

"Damn, I knew I should have packed those smoked oysters."

"What makes you think that I didn't?" Steven grinned and headed out
the door to the car.

Linda watched her husband of six hours for a minute through the large
picture window of the living room as he gathered up the rest of their
luggage.

Steven was a big man, nearly six foot two inches and yet slender at
195 pound. With his flame red hair and deep blue eyes, he reminded
Linda of a movie she had once seen about the Vikings. He had that
same intense look in his eyes when he was concentrating on a problem
as Kirk Douglas had. But to Linda, he was a lot more handsome.

He had been a real prize and she was glad that she had won him away
from Corrie. She knew that Corrie wasn't mad at Steven, she was
furious with herself. Still, it was Corrie's own fault that she'd
lost Steven. Corrie didn't understand what it took to keep a man
happy and she did.

Of course, it had taken getting pregnant to do it, but Steven was
worth it, God was he ever worth it! It was really too bad that Steven
wasn't the father. Ah well, she sighed and rubbed her stomach, the
next one will be his.

Linda turned back to the table and started to put the wedding gifts
back into their boxes. As she carefully placed the clothing back into
the box she seriously debated throwing it all in the fireplace and
burning it.

She changed her mind when she realized that she could do the exact
same thing with the expensive clothing that they were going to do with
the extra toasters. She would take them back to the store and
exchange them for some maternity clothes for herself.

Linda wondered what Corrie's reaction would be when she found out, and
Corrie would find out, she would see to that.

"Now that will really piss her off," Linda laughed to herself. Still
she had the nagging feeling that something disastrous was about to
happen.

"Still checking out the loot, darling?" Steven asked from behind her.
Linda turned and smiled. "Just day dreaming about you and wondering
if I should cook those oysters or have you eat them raw."

"I can think of something a little sweeter than oysters to eat,"
Steven leered at Linda.

Linda grinned and leered back. "So can I lover boy, so can I. In
fact, just thinking about it makes my... whoops."

Linda's description of what part of her anatomy was watering was
interrupted by Steven as he picked her up in his arms suddenly. He
gave her a big kiss and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Be gentle honey, remember I'm supposed to be a virgin on her first
night of her honeymoon," Linda giggled as Steven gently laid her on
the king sized mattress.

"Humm, maybe we shouldn't mess around then," Steven said stepping back
from the bed.

"What?" Linda exclaimed. "Why not?"

"Well, if you're a virgin who just happens to be pregnant, making love
to you until after the birth would seem sacralegious somehow."

Linda looked dumbfounded at her husband for a second, not sure if he
was kidding her or not. "Are you serious?"

"Let's take our clothes off and see," Steven grinned.

-0-0-0-

"Well so much for waiting for a virgin birth," Linda sighed, clamping
down on her husband. He had just filled her with his love juices and
she wanted him to stay inside of her for as long as possible. She
affectionately rubbed Steven's sweaty bare back. He wasn't the best
she'd ever had, but he certainly wasn't the worst either.

"Happy honey?" Linda asked as she nipped at his ear lobe.

Steven responded by trying to flex his slowly deflating penis inside
of her. Linda giggled and tried to tighten up even further. Steven
popped out like a watermelon seed that had been squeezed between two
fingers.

"Oh, no" Linda moaned disappointedly.

"I'm sorry honey, it sort of just slipped out."

"So I noticed," Linda sighed. She pushed gently against Steven's
shoulders, signaling him that she wanted to get up. She rolled off
the bed and stood looking down at her husband. "After I've cleaned up
a little, I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

"Love to," Steven replied as he moved to the side of the bed and sat
up.

Linda bent over and kissed him, as he tried to fondle her bare
breasts.

"Something tells me this is going to be an interesting two weeks,"
Linda smiled down at her husband as he maneuvered one of her nipples
into his mouth.

-0-0-0-

Corrie Malone stood just below the crest of a sand dune overlooking
the beach house. She was dressed for the cool weather, jeans, pull
over cable knit sweater, denim jacket and a pair of binoculars.

Steven and Linda had been at the house for four days, and she was
curious how they were getting along. She brought the binoculars to
her eyes and adjusted the focus.

The house seemed to leap out at her, allowing her to see the inside of
several rooms with a fair degree of clarity. One of the rooms, the
bedroom on the second floor, attracted her rapt attention.

"Jeezus, they're like a couple of minks! Don't they ever stop?" she
asked herself. "Enjoy it while you can, cousin. Before your
honeymoon is over, you'll be sampling lesbian love, that is if you
dare!"

-0-0-0-

"I need to take a rest, honey. I'm sorry," Steven said when his wife
started to make advances toward him. He pulled on his undershorts.

"So soon? Is mommy's little man all drained out?" Linda pouted.

"You might say that," Steven sighed. Actually he had reached the
point where his testicles had a constant ache from their struggle to
keep up with the demand. "I'll be alright tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Linda exclaimed dejectedly.

Steven looked at the expression of disappointment on his wife's face.
"Well, maybe later tonight."

Linda sighed. "I suppose that I could stand a few hours of rest
myself," she admitted. You certainly know how to wear a girl out --
and most pleasantly too, I might add."

Steven's stomach growled, reminding them both that they hadn't eaten
in nearly seven hours.

"Hungry dear?" Linda giggled.

"Yeah. Why don't you fix some dinner, while I build a fire," Steven
suggested. "We can cuddle up on the couch and watch the fire while we
eat." "What would you like? I've got some steaks, a couple of
potatoes I can bake and the fixings for a salad."

"Sounds good," Steven agreed.

Linda rubbed her bare body against Steven's. "Shall we have our salad
without dressing, or do you want to get dressed first."

Steven laughed. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting cold. That
old song about your love keeping me warm, never took into account the
storm that's heading in from the ocean."

Linda glanced out the window. The sky did seem darker, more
threatening. "I guess that it will be with dressing then."

-0-0-0-

Steven had thrown on a pair of jeans and a wool shirt and slipped his
bare feet into a pair of sneakers. "Why don't you take a quick shower
and make yourself pretty, while I bring in some wood.

Linda nodded, and headed toward the bathroom, while Steven went down
stairs and out on the porch, where a wood pile was stored.

-0-0-0-

Corrie watched through her binoculars as Steven took several loads of
fire wood into the house. She glanced up at the darkening sky and
shivered. It was going to be a cold and wet night, a very wet night.
She turned and walked down the back of the sand dune to where she had
hidden her car. If anything was going to happen it wouldn't be for
another couple of hours yet. She might as well keep warm.

-0-0-0-

Linda got out of the shower and slowly dried herself off. In spite of
her teasing, she was glad that Steven had decided to put their sexual
gymnastics on hold for a while. She was starting to get a little
sore, proof that her sexual appetite wasn't insatiable after all.

Linda walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. Not really watching
where she was going, she accidently kicked the box containing the
clothing Corrie had given them as a wedding gift. Linda rubbed her
sore toe as she balanced herself on one foot.

"Damn you anyway!" Linda snarled and kicked the box with the side of
her bare foot into the corner. The box bounced against the wall and a
pair of panties fell out. Linda stared at the teal bikinis for a
second then turned and got dressed. For about the hundreth time since
they had opened Corrie's gift, Linda wondered what she was up to.

-0-0-0-

"It's nice to have a fireplace on a night like this isn't it?" Steven
asked several hours later as he settled back onto the couch. The log
he'd just thrown on the fire sizzled damply then began to smolder as
flames began to curl around it.

Linda cuddled up against Steven and ran her hand along one of his
denim clad muscular thighs. The fabric was stretched tightly,
allowing her to feel the strength of his leg under her hand.

"Humm, almost as good as the fire here," she purred sliding her hand
upward. She ran a finger along the crotch seam of the jeans. Under
her light finger pressure she could feel the already tight fabric grow
a little tighter.

"I thought that you were too tired to mess around?" Linda giggled.

Steven ran a hand through Linda's long brunette hair. It still
smelled faintly of shampoo from her morning shower. Like the rest of
her, it was beautiful, Steven decided. He kissed the top of her head.

Linda wiggled slightly and pulled herself closer to her husband's
strong warm body. She moved her hand from the seam of his pants to
just above his waist band. She began pulling his shirt out of his
pants.

Steven stopped her. "Wait a second honey, there's something sicking
me in my back."

Steven leaned forward as Linda reached behind him. She dug between
the cushions that had been spread apart by Steven's weight. She felt
a slight tingle in her lower abdomen as she touched the hard cool
object. Totally unaware that the baby she was carrying would grow up
in an entirely different direction from which nature had intended,
Linda pulled the object free.

"Here's what's been sticking you, sweetheart," she said handing it to
Steven.

Steven took the object from his wife and glanced at it. It looked
like a part of a child's toy. A crystal with some brass wire wrapped
around one end couldn't have been anything else but a child's toy. He
tossed it casually on the end cushion of the couch.

"Now then where were we?" Steven asked, taking his wife in his arms.

"You were just showing me the heat of your love," Linda purred.

"Oh, yeah," Steven yawned, "that too. I'm sorry honey, but I'm beat.
I'm about to fall asleep on my feet. I guess that I shouldn't have
eaten so much for dinner."

"You're the one that insisted on three helpings of my lasagna, you
pig," Linda smiled softening the insult to a sign of affection. She
was pleased that Steven found her cooking almost as desirable as he
found her. "That's alright honey, it's late and I'm getting tired
too. What do you say we go upstairs and go to bed."

"I say that it sounds like a good idea," Steven agreed yawning again.
He rose from the couch and pulled the fireplace screen closed.
Turning, he held out his hand and helped Linda stand up then followed
her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Ten minutes later they had dressed for bed, Steven wearing a pair of
undershorts and an old "Grateful Dead" T-shirt he'd bought the summer
before and Linda in a short waltz length nightgown. Linda snuggled
close to her husband, enjoying his warmth. He put his arm around her
shoulder and almost instantly fell asleep.

Linda listened to Steven's steady breathing for a few minutes,
disappointed that he hadn't managed to stay awake a few minutes
longer.

Linda pulled Steven's T-shirt up and lightly ran her finger tips along
his firm stomach. Even in the darkness, she could feel the growth
patterns in his body hair. She allowed her hand to follow the pattern
down to his navel. She hesitated for a second, wondering if he would
get an erection in his sleep, and more importantly, keep it long
enough for her to play a little. It was an interesting question, one
she didn't have enough experience with any man to know the answer.
She didn't know, but there was only one way to find out!

Linda, being careful not to awaken Steven, slowly worked his
undershorts down around his thighs. She stopped several times to
listen to his steady breathing amazed that he hadn't awakened.

Hooking one toe in the waist band of the undershorts she gently slid
them down around his ankles and over his feet. With her free hand,
she slowly began to massage him. Much quicker than she expected, she
could feel his penis becoming erect.

Still he slept on, undisturbed by her gentle and intimate fondling.
Linda was both astounded and amused. She had always known that a man
couldn't be raped by a woman, not an unwilling man anyway. Yet,
Steven was proof that a woman could have sex with a man without his
prior approval. She wondered if she could satisfy herself without
waking him up.

Again, there was only one way to find out. Suppressing a giggle,
Linda turned over and sat up on her knees. Hiking her nightgown above
her waist, she swung her leg over her prone husband's hips. With her
other hand she carefully guided the tip of his penis to the waiting
opening between her legs. Slowly lowering herself, she wiggled a few
times to make sure he was securely inside of her before she began to
gently rock back and forth.

Slow and easy, she thought, savoring the sensation. Usually Steven
moved much faster when he was controlling the penetration. With Linda
on the top, she moved at a speed she liked, taking nearly twice as
long to complete one cycle as Steven usually did, and allowing him to
sink much deeper in the process.

If Steven lasts, I could go on like this all night, she thought to
herself. She hadn't even worked up a sweat and was already nearly
half way to an incredible orgasm.

She was understandably disappointed when she suddenly felt Steven
begin to shrink and slip out of her. Swearing softly to herself,
Linda reached between her legs to guide him back again.

Confused by what she thought she had felt, Linda moved off of Steven
and carefully felt his groin. When she found his penis, it was still
erect, still ready to complete the act she had started. But it didn't
feel right. It was small, too small. She realized with a start that
he hadn't lost his erection, as she had first suspected, but he was
actually shrinking!

Linda turned on the bed lamp on the side table and blinked a few times
until her eyes adjusted to the bright light. When she could see
without having to squint, she pulled up Steven's T-shirt and nearly
fainted. Her hands hadn't deceived her, he was shrinking!

Linda sat, arms tight around her bent knees watching Steven. Every
now and then she would have to wipe the tears from her eyes as her
husband of less than a week slowly changed from a man to a woman.

She didn't know how the change was accomplished, but she knew why it
was happening. It was all Corrie's fault! She just knew it!

-0-0-0-

Dawn was breaking over the ocean when the changes in Steven appeared
to slow and stop. There was no question that he could never qualify
for the title of husband and father again.

Linda's horror over Steven's astonishing transformation had slowly
changed as well. It had changed from shock and dismay to bewilderment
and finally to anger. Anger that had first been directed toward
Steven and had caused her to strike one of his shapely thighs with her
fist, then to who she knew was the real cause.

"Corrie, you bitch!" Linda stood on the porch and screamed. "I know
you're out there, damn you! I want to talk to you, right now!
Corrie, if you know what's good for you, you'll haul your fat ass down
here, before I have to come looking for you!"

Corrie was awakened by Linda's screams. Smiling to herself, she left
her car and crawled up to the crest of the sand dune. She had
forgotten to bring her binoculars. It didn't matter, she could see
Linda standing on the bottom step of the porch still dressed in her
nightgown screaming her head off.

Grinning to herself, Corrie stood and brushed the sand from her jeans.
Time to face her cousin, and let her know the reason for all of this.
She wished that she could have been there when Steven had begun his
change. It would have been an even better revenge to have watched the
look on Linda's face.

-0-0-0-

Steven awoke to the sounds of an argument coming from the living room
down stairs. He laid motionless, listening to the two voices. He
recognized Linda's immediately, it took him a second longer to realize
that the other voice was his ex-girl friend, Corrie Malone.

What was she doing here? he wondered.

The voices were loud enough to have disturbed his sleep, but not quite
loud enough to make out what they were saying. Something about some
kind of change...?

Steven sighed and stretched. He might as well get up and see if he
could intervene before the loud verbal argument became physical.

He started to sit up and was astonished to see that he was wearing
what looked like a huge black cotton nightshirt. A nightshirt that
was the exact duplicate of a "Grateful Dead" T-shirt he'd liked and
bought the previous summer. An exact duplicate right down to the
small bleach stain on one of the sleeves!

He vaguely remembered wearing the T-shirt to bed, along with a pair of
his undershorts, which seemed to be missing, but knew that while it
had been a little large, it hadn't been this big!

What the Hell was going on here? he thought. He suddenly realized
that there was an unaccustomed accustomed weight on his chest, one
that moved at a slightly different speed that his body did. He pulled
the neck of the T-shirt out and looked through the large gap at his
chest.

-0-0-0-

"You always were jealous over anything I did!" Linda screamed at
Corrie.

"Jealous? Me? That's a laugh! You're the one that's jealous!"

"I am not," Linda denied. "I don't have a jealous bone in my body!"

"No? Then why did you steal Steven away from me? You bitch! You
don't even love him, at least not as much as I did!"

-0-0-0-

Steven was stunned to see two perfectly formed women's breasts firmly
attached to his chest. "Where the Hell did these come from?" he asked
himself. He was surprised to hear the sound of his voice, higher in
timbre, soft and undeniable feminine sounding.

It was almost as if he had... Steven's hand shot to his groin.

"What the fuck!" Steven exclaimed softly as he felt his flat front
through the T-shirt.

He jerked the T-shirt off, or tried to. He discovered that he not
only was he sitting on tail of the T-shirt, which was long to begin
with, but it now extend to just above his knees. The only way he
would be able to get it off would be to either go through some
strenuous body contortions or get out of bed.

He chose the lesser of the two and slid out of the king sized bed.
Everything in the room seemed to have grown about forty percent larger
-- or he had shrunk that amount. He bent over and grabbed the hem of
the T-shirt and pulled upward.

Ignoring the sharp pain as he jerked the shirt past his breasts,
Steven pulled it over his head and threw it on the bed.

Scarcely believing his eyes Steven inspected his nude body. His
fingers had not deceived him, he was a woman!

He suddenly realized the significance of Corrie's wedding gift. The
clothing hadn't been for Linda as he had originally thought, they had
been intended for him!

-0-0-0-

"You bitch! You know that it wasn't my fault that you caught the
measles from me! Your parents were the ones that insisted that you
visit me when I was sick, not the other way around! Besides, that was
in the third grade for Christ's sakes!" Corrie snapped.

"Yeah, and did you ever gloat when I finally came down with them!"

"I did no such thing!" Corrie protested indignantly. "And even if I
did, it was only because you destroyed my most favorite doll!"

"Oh, so you're going to bring that up again, are you! I did not give
my dog your damned doll! He just snuck into my room and chewed its
head off!"

"Yeah right! He just unhooked his leash, opened two locked doors,
climbed a flight of stairs and 'just snuck' into your bedroom without
anyone seeing or hearing him!"

"That's right, he did!" Linda said defensively.

"That's a load of bull crap and you know it!" Corrie retorted.

"May be, but that didn't give you the excuse to..."

-0-0-0-

There was no question about it, he had been somehow transformed into a
woman. A very short woman with short dirty blonde hair, a natural
hair coloring if the shade of his pubic hair was any indication. The
only consolation, small as it was, was that he had a terrific figure,
better even than Linda's. He had thought her's was perfect, until he
had seen his own.

Steven turned away from the mirror and sighed. He knew that he would
be stuck like this forever. The changes had been too profound, too
deep and he suspected as he pressed the area just below his navel, too
complete to go back to normal.

If he'd just suddenly grown breasts he could have had surgery to have
them removed and continue on with his life as though nothing had
happened. Even if he'd lost his penis and testicles through an
accident or some strange illness, he could have continued on as
Steven, slightly altered and unable to be a father again, but still
himself.

A father -- Linda and his baby.

He shivered again. He didn't know if it was from the cold or the
realization that he could never again hold the title "father" to some
small child. Still, he had the potential to be a parent in what he
suspected would be an even more fulfilling and satisfying role.

No, there would be no turning back. Steven had always liked a
challenge and now he was facing the greatest of his life. Everything
he had ever worked for, every experience, every thing he had ever
loved, even the woman he married were alien to the body that had
suddenly been thrust upon him.

It was too bad, but there was no way they could continue with the
marriage now, not after what had happened. He would miss sleeping
with Linda, she'd been a great lay, had really known how to make a man
happy. Steven shivered slightly as he gently traced a line across his
lower abdomen with his finger tips. Now it would be his turn to make
some man happy.

Steven listened to the angry voices coming from the living room below.
Linda and Corrie were still at it. He had better go down stairs
before it got out of hand.

Sighing again, he walked lightly to the box of clothing. The first
thing he would need was a pair of panties, maybe the teal string
bikinis, then he would have to figure out how to put a bra on...

-0-0-0-

"Corrie, we may have hated each other and tried to pull dirty tricks
on each other, but nothing I ever did was deserving of this dirty
trick!"

"Ha! What about stealing Steven away from me in the first place?
That was the lowest thing you could have ever done." Corrie
countered.

Steven walked into the room and stood silently watching the two women
argue. Neither noticed him standing in the doorway. He was strangely
disappointed they hadn't. It was the first time in his life he had
worn women's clothing and he wanted to see their reaction to the form
fitting jeans and top he was wearing.

It would do no good to try to stop them, this had obviously been
building up for a long time. From the snatches of conversation he'd
been able to hear upstairs they were cousins and bitter rivals. Each
had practiced their own version of Brinksmanship, increasing the
stakes until he had married Linda. When Linda and he had been
married, Corrie had devised some way to change his sex so that they
wouldn't remain married.

"You should have worked a little harder at keeping him. Like I did,"
Linda replied smugly.

"By getting knocked up you mean, no thank you! By the way, is it even
his?" Corrie shot back. Steven's ears perked up when Linda suddenly
reddened.

"It's not his!" Corrie shouted in triumph. Linda's embarrassed blush
deepened. Corrie's shot in the dark had hit the mark. "You got
yourself knocked up by someone else and then blamed it on Steven! My
God, Linda that's the lowest thing you could ever do to a man. I
would never stoop that low!"

"Oh yeah? Only because you didn't think of it first. What about what
you've done to him? Turning a normal healthy male into a woman
doesn't even begin to be on the scale. At least using the excuse of a
pregnancy to get married has some traditional precedent," Linda said
lamely. She had been caught with her panties down so to speak and she
knew it. The two women fell silent, Corrie triumphant and Linda
humbled by the discovery of her deception.

Steven took the momentary silence to walk further in the room. Both
Corrie and Linda looked up at him. Their reactions were different,
Corrie looked smugly pleased, while Linda looked as though she wanted
to cry.

"It seems ladies, that we have something to talk about, don't we,"
Steven said.

Corrie was the first to speak. "I see that you found the earrings,"
she commented.

Steven fingered one of the gold rings in his ears and smiled wryly as
he sat in the chair facing the two women on the couch.

"I thought I might as well. The holes were already there. But then
again you obviously knew they would be."

"I suspected they would be," Corrie confirmed.

"Steven, I..." Linda started, only to be broken off by Steven as he
raised his hand.

"Call me Stephanine. Given the circumstances, a girl's name seems
more -- appropriate now," Steven said. There was a touch of sarcasm
in his voice. "I've been listening to the two of you arguing for the
last hour. I've come to the conclusion that I've been nothing but a
pawn in your childish battle of one Brinksmanship."

"Oh, honey, that's not true," Linda said. "I really did love you."

"So did I," Corrie chorused. Her pronouncement brought a sharp look
from Steven and a look of pure hatred form Linda.

"You sure have a strange way of showing your love, Corrie."

Corrie blushed and looked at the floor. She wasn't ashamed at what
she had arranged to happen, it had been the ultimate revenge against
Linda. The fact that Steven would literally never be the same didn't
bother her as much as losing him in the first place.

"And you, Linda," Steven turned his attention to his wife. "You used
the past tense of love a little too quickly. I don't think that you
ever did love me. I was just something that Corrie had and you wanted
badly enough to use someone else's baby to get me to marry you...
That, even if it had been my baby, is beneath contempt. I think
you're both sick, sick and depraved beyond words!"

Both women looked down in embarrassment, avoiding the accusing stare
from a righteously angry Steven.

"Linda, you can file for an annulment as soon as you go back to
Weverville tonight for all I care. I have no wish to remain married
to you even if I were still Steven and a man. And you Corrie, you can
crawl back into whatever hole you climbed out of."

"What are you going to do?" Linda asked. Steven was surprised to see
tears in her eyes.

"Me? What I should do is take a gun and shoot you both!" The two
women flinched at the threat. "But I won't. I think that just
knowing what you've done to me and yourselves punishment will be
enough. It's a secret that you'll have to live with for the rest of
your life."

"Stephanie, I'm really sorry about all this. If there is anything I
can do..." Corrie's voice trailed off when she suspected that she'd
done enough already. Steven surprised her by looking thoughtful then
grinning.

"Interesting that you should ask, Corrie. There are a few things you
can do." Sensing that she was giving a reprieve Corrie looked up
expectantly. "In fact both of you can."

"Anything within reason," Corrie qualified.

"I'll do anything you ask," Linda said bringing a glare from Corrie.

Steven shook his head, they were still competing, even now. They
haven't learned a thing, Steven sighed.

"Alright, first of all, I'm going to need more clothing. Everything I
own obviously doesn't fit any longer." The two women nodded
simultaneously. "The next thing I'll need is an apartment, rent free,
for say, six months."

Again the simultaneous nod. "Daddy has some apartments that he
manages, he can find something that we can afford," Corrie said to
Linda.

"And finally, I need a store, something located in the village will do
nicely."

"A store? What in the world would you want that for?" Linda asked
curiously.

"Why for the business, of course. I have a Bachelors and almost a
Master's in Business, and I intend to put my education to good use."

Their curiosity sparked, both women looked first at each other then
back at Steven. "What kind of business?" Corrie asked.

"Why I thought that would be obvious," Steven said seeming surprised
by her question. "I'm going to open up a Junior Petite Clothing
Boutique specializing in size 5. I'm going to make a fortune selling
clothing to the occupants of this house!"



Part 6: "Heather's Story"


The Dark Crystal story so far.

The Dark Crystal, a shape changing crystal and a major
component of interstellar survival kits, is lost in space
when a private interstellar vessel is involved in a violent
collision with a piece of space junk.

The sole passengers of the vessel are a mother and her
teenage son returning home from a visit with her parents.
Neither are injured, but the son finds himself in a rather
embarrassing situation for a healthy young male. He is
trapped in the body of a beautiful young woman. A woman's
body that he, himself, had designed purely for his own
pleasure!!!

A victim of awakening teenage hormones, the young male
had grown curious during the long trip home about the yet to
be explored mystery called sex. Under normal circumstances,
and at home, he would have merely call one of a dozen
willing, and equally inexperienced, girl friends and
experiment to his heart's content, or total exhaustion,
whichever came first.

Even aboard the ship, he could have satisfied his
curiosity by using an SSP, a Surrogate Sex Partner. SSP's
are robotic sex partners that duplicate the sexuality of
either a male or female, depending on the model. Their use
is considered harmless amusement and are especially popular
on long voyages. They've prove so popular with crew members
that they're now considered an important, almost essential,
part of a ship's standard recreational equipment even on
shorter interplanetary trips.

On this particular trip however, there was a slight
problem exercising the second option. His mother,
underestimating her son's stage of maturity, hadn't thought
to include a female version of the male model SSP she'd
brought for herself to use during the home journey.

Not having a suitable partner, the son is faced with the
decision of either waiting until they arrive home, an
impossibly long time to wait for something as important as
the discovery of sex, or use the Dark Crystal to make some
drastic alterations to his body. By changing from male to
female he can take advantage of his mother's SSP in the mode
it was designed to operate.

Too anxious to wait, he decided to take it anyway he can
and uses the crystal to change his male body for one that is
virtually indistinguishable from a genetic female.

He has just experienced the delights of his first ever
sexual encounter as a female when his mother discovers him
in a rather compromising position. The mother is greatly
amused by her son's image of the ideal female form and
tolerant of his experimentation. She realizes, however,
that his changed form could create some problems if he
decided to remain a female for the rest of the trip. She
orders her son to change back to his original form, a male,
or his father will have to be told.

At that point in the story, a piece of space junk
strikes the ship causing severe damage to their vessel and
loss of the Dark Crystal. The loss of the Crystal forces
the young man to remain a female much longer than he
intended or could have imagined.

The son's stateroom (and the Dark Crystal), separated
from the ship by the collision, is now little more than a
massive piece of space junk itself. It enters into a
decaying orbit around the third plant of a yellow sun.
Eventually, the compartment and the Crystal enter the
atmosphere where the two finally become separated. What
remains of the compartment falls into the ocean, while the
nearly indestructible Crystal falls unnoticed on a beach
near a young father and his two children.

Christopher Robbins, a five year old and the youngest
child of a family of four, finds it and, believing the
Crystal to be a "magic" stone, slips it into the pocket of
his shorts.

In the chapters that follow, the shape changing Crystal
functions as it was designed, and programmed, to do. The
lives of a number of males are profoundly changed, no pun
intended, beginning with young Christopher and his father
John Robbins.

In short order others are unwittingly changed into
females, a cross dresser with a very understanding wife, an
old man who proves that you can teach old dogs new tricks,
and a bridegroom who was a victim of more than the Crystal.

To learn more about the people the Dark Crystal changes,
please download and read the Dark Crystal Stories.

PART SIX
"HEATHER'S STORY"

It has been five years since the Dark Crystal made it's
first appearance on a lonely stretch of beach near a
vacation home.

-0-0-0-

When Frank Williams first laid eyes on Heather, it was
near midnight on a busy night in the casino. He'd had a
fairly successful evening at the tables and was heading back
to his car.

She was slowly, almost regally, descending down the long
flight of stairs leading from the lobby of the hotel to the
casino below.

Heather, although he didn't know her name yet, was
dressed in a floor length, clingy spaghetti strap evening
gown with a deep "V" neckline that descended to just below
her impressive breasts. A long slit in the snow white
evening gown rose from the floor to just above mid thigh,
allowing momentary flashes of her bare, well tanned left
leg. On her bare feet were white, high heeled sandals.

Her flawless skin was well tanned and without the
unusual tan lines of a bathing suit on her virtually bare
shoulders. She appeared to be about twenty five years old,
but could have been five years either way. Five to ten
years junior to Frank's age of thirty five.

Her makeup was light, almost non-existent, subtly
enhancing rather than overpowering the blonde's breathtaking
features. Her finger nails were long and while unpolished,
glistened with a natural sheen that indicated meticulous
care.

Here was a woman who knew the almost imperceptible
difference between looking natural and being natural, Frank
thought. She was sophisticated far beyond her years would
imply.

Long, dangling diamond earrings sparkled in rhythm with
the slightest movement of her head. Around her left ankle,
an impossibly thin gold chain was fastened, while her
beautiful slender neck was the bronzed backdrop for a choker
style necklace made of a triple row of diamonds.

Frank glanced at the ring finger on her left hand,
nodding with relief that she was not wearing a wedding ring.
That would have made it awkward, if not impossible to
approach her.

As she moved closer to Frank it became obvious to him
that her legs were not the only thing that was bare under
the dress. Faint, but distinct outlines of her nipples were
visible beneath the soft, clinging fabric of the gown.

Frank smiled, wondering briefly if she had neglected to
wear panties as well.

Her natural, dark honey blonde hair was done up in a
French bun, held in place by a long narrow comb. She had
the most incredibly blue eyes Frank had ever seen. The
color of her eyes, while striking by itself, was not the
most extraordinary thing about her.

She was as tiny as a child, even in her high heeled
sandals. No more than five two, Frank estimated correctly.
Although her child sized body was slender and lithesome in
appearance, there was no question that she was a very
desirable woman. Her breasts were large, perhaps a "C" cup
in size while her slender hips were decidedly curvacious,
well formed and in perfect proportion to her height.

A very impressive body on a very beautiful woman.

Although Frank usually dated women who were much taller,
he was in love with the beautiful blonde before her dainty,
sandal clad foot stepped off the stairs to touch the floor
of the casino. Awed by her incredible beauty, Frank decided
to risk scorn and rejection.

With each deliberate step, her eyes scanned the crowed
on the casino floor below. It was not the purposeful
searching look of one who is looking for someone she knew,
but more of a curious interest in what everyone was doing.
Her gaze passed over Frank and moved on, only to return to
cooly study him for a fraction of a second. Frank knew that
if her eyes left him again he would never have another
chance.

"Excuse me," he began hesitantly, only to pause in
confusion when he saw the odd look in her deep blue eyes.

"Yes?" she asked in a clear, soft voice that sounded as
honey flavored as the color of her hair. Her expression
which had been impassive before, slowly broke into a faint,
slightly crooked, smile.

"Uh, do we know each other?" he asked, confused by her
obvious look of recognition.

"We do, yes. That is, no, not really, not now."

Frank became thoroughly confused. "My most abject
apologies, Miss, uh. As much as I would love to say I
remember you," he fumbled for a second, then quickly
recovered with the truth. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I have
absolutely no idea who you are."

"No?" The blonde's smile extended to the rest of her
face, revealing a hint of her perfect, brilliantly white
teeth. "Of course not, there's no reason on Earth that you
should. My name is Heather, Heather Johnson, and you're
Frank Williams, right?"

"Uh, right."

Heather held out her hand. Frank suppressed the sudden
urge to bring it up to his lips and kiss it. He took it in
his own and held it briefly instead. Her grip was warm, dry
and softly feminine, yet Frank thought he detected a slight
tremor just before he released it. Heather's smile grew
wider as she allowed her hand to drop limply to her side.

"Now that's over, what do you say about some dinner?"
she suggested boldly. "I've been told that the food in the
casino's buffet is excellent."

Frank, who had eaten in there several times previously,
nodded. It was one of the few times in his life that he was
totally speechless.

"Of course, you'll have to pay," the blonde continued,
"I'm afraid my dress wasn't designed for a pocket I could
slip my money in."

Frank glanced at her figure under the dress, frankly
admiring what he saw. He realized that while she not only
didn't have a wallet, she hadn't been carrying a purse
either.

"No, it doesn't does it? I'm glad it doesn't, the lump
of even a thin dime would ruin your marvelous figure." The
last sort of slipped out, much to Frank's embarrassment.

Heather merely smiled as though she'd received similar
compliments many times before. She turned slightly toward
the main part of the casino floor, bending her arm closest
to Frank as she completed the turn. "Shall we?" she asked.

Frank took the none too subtle hint and took her arm in
his. He adjusted his normally lengthy stride to her much
shorter steps and arm in arm they strolled across the crowed
room to the buffet. Neither noticed the heads that turned
to watch the stately progress of the tall man and the
stunning petite blonde in an evening gown as they walked
across the carpeted floor.

Most of the observers, if questioned later, would not
have remembered either her companion, or if they had, that
he had wearing much more casual jeans and tweed sports coat.

-0-0-0-

They exchanged small talk during the excellent meal.
Heather was mysteriously vague about her life, saying only
that she had just returned from a journey. Frank on the
other hand, told her almost his entire life story. Oddly,
there had been times when she seemed to almost know what he
was going to say before he said it.

After they had eaten, Frank suggested that they take a
walk through the garden around the hotel pool, making his
intentions obviously clear to both of them. Heather
appearing nervous over the idea, demurred saying that she'd
had a late night and wished to retire early. Alone.

"But I'll be more than pleased to walk thorough the
garden tomorrow night if you wish," she had said softly.

It would be the first of many dates.

-0-0-0-

After nearly a month of dating Heather, who seemed to be
a semipermanent residence of the hotel, Frank had grown
increasingly confused about his relationship with the
beautiful woman.

There was no question that he was attracted to the
beautiful woman. He had grown deeply in love with her
almost from the first instant he had laid eyes on her. But
he was confused about Heather's feelings toward himself. He
kept getting mixed signals, almost as if she were being torn
between expressing some affection toward him or telling him
to get lost.

She was friendly enough, even to the point of using
terms of endearment when she spoke to him, even allowing him
to kiss her on the cheek occasionally, but no more than
that. She seemed to draw away from him every time he tried
to move the relationship forward.

It was almost as if she were a shy young virgin saving
herself for her future husband, even to the point of
forgoing dating. There was nothing wrong with that, of
course, except Frank seriously doubted that she was a
virgin. Someone as beautiful and sexy looking as Heather
would attract every Don Quan that was ever born. And no
matter how strong willed a woman was, somewhere, somehow,
one of them would have come up with a line that would have
melted her heart and broken her maidenhead.

It wasn't that she was seeing someone else, Frank had
very discreetly checked on that. She lived alone in one of
the hotel's most expensive five room penthouse suites and
had never been seen with any other man save himself. He
discovered that she paid her own bills, and in cash. From
the way his information sources had acted, she was very
wealthy. Lonely and wealthy, a state that someone less
scrupulous than Frank, would see as an ideal combination for
exploitation. Other than those few basic facts, he had
learned nothing more about her background.

Frank wasn't interested in her money, just Heather
herself. He was however, bewildered. It was almost as if he
was being tested in some strange manner, and not just
because of her money. She was a mystery that begged to be
solved.

Finally, Frank's curiosity and frustration got the
better of him. He decided that the direct approach would be
the only way he'd ever find out the answers to his
questions. He would just come right out and ask her what
the problem was the first opportunity he had to be alone
with her.

It came the next day as they returned to Heather's hotel
room to change from a relaxing afternoon at the hotel's
pool. It had been the first time that Frank had ever seen
Heather in a bathing suit, Her tiny bikini clad body was
everything he'd imagined it to be. He loved looking at it
and frankly wanted to see more.

When it came time to end the relaxing afternoon, the
plan had been for Heather to change first, then they would
drive over to Frank's. After that they'd tentatively
planned on a quiet dinner and show.

As they rode the swift elevator up to the penthouses,
Frank decided now was as good a time as ever to confront
Heather.

-0-0-0-

Frank asked Heather the question as she closed the door
of her hotel room behind them.

"Problem? I'm sorry if you have the impression that
there's some kind of problem between us. I can assure you
that I don't think there is." Heather had responded,
surprised that he could think such a thing.

"Then why do you draw away from me every time I try to
go beyond holding your hand and kissing your cheek when we
say goodnight?" Frank demanded. "I mean, every time I try
to kiss or touch you anywhere but your hands or cheek, you
stiffen and turn away. I thought you liked me."

Inexplicably, Heather looked as if she were about to
burst into tears. "Of course, I like you, Frank. I, I
think I may even love you. It's just that I..."

A horrible thought crossed Frank's mind. "You're not
one of those women that like other girls are you?"

Instead of becoming outraged, Heather shook her head and
smiled ruefully. "No, not really. At least, not any
longer."

"Not any longer? What is that supposed to mean?" Frank
asked quickly, bothered by the ambiguous reply.

"Frank, I have a secret past. One that is unbelievable
even to me and I know it's true, because I lived through
it."

"A secret past? What kind of secret? You're not
married are you?" Frank asked suddenly wary. If nothing
else, Frank had a certain, if rather quaint, sense of honor.
A married woman was off limits regardless of circumstances.

Heather's smile appeared faintly distress, as though she
were reliving an old painful memory. She shook her head. "I
was, once, but no longer. I do have three wonderful
daughters, though. But that isn't it, not really," she
replied distantly.

Her admission that she'd been married hadn't really
surprised Frank, but her casual, almost offhanded, statement
about having three children had. He instinctively glanced
at her abdomen framed between the two halves of her bikini
and the open front of the short terry cloth cover up she
wore.

He'd been looking for signs of stretch marks, something
that Frank thought would have been unavoidable for a woman
who had carried three babies to full term. But her body was
as smooth and blemish free as a virgin half her age. What
was her secret then if it wasn't having had a husband and
three kids before Frank had met her?

There were so many things in the world that a young and
beautiful woman like Heather could become involved in.
Having an ex-husband and kids were the least of them, drugs
and a life of crime were a lot more serious. Or had she
simply been one of those women who, for what ever reason,
had just walked out on her responsibilities?

Heather continued to smiled up at him. Her smile faded
slightly when she saw the look of caution on his face.

"Oh, dear sweet Frank," she said softly, her amusement
unmistakable in her voice, "It's not what you're thinking.
No, it's much, much stranger than anything you could ever
possibly imagine."

"What then?"

Heather hesitated, glancing down at her firm breasts,
barely covered by her skimpy bikini top. "Perhaps I should
change into something a little less, uh, something else..."

Frank allowed his eyes to travel up and down Heather's
firm youthful bikini clad body. "You look fine to me." He
saw the look in her face and relented, "Unless, you'd feel
more comfortable...?"

She nodded slowly as if she had momentarily debated not
changing her clothing after all. She abruptly turned and
disappeared into the suite's bedroom.

Frank self consciously wrapped his robe around his body,
covering up his own bathing suit. Maybe I should go home
and change too, he though. No, he decided, I have a feeling
that what Heather is so reluctant to tell me will affect us
for the rest of our lives. If he left now, he might never
find out what it was. He would stay to the very end,
although he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the
answer any longer.

A fifteen minutes later Heather reappeared, pausing at
the doorway momentarily as if she were making the grand
entrance in a ballroom.

Her attire, white silk pants and a matching cropped tank
top, flowed softly over her body and made her appear
defenseless and exceptionally feminine. Designed to
revealed far more than it concealed, her outfit was
infinitely sexier than her bikini swim suit. The filmy
white silk pants fit snugly around her hips and flowed
straight down from the top of her thighs to her ankles.

The top was as filmy as the pants. The deeply scooped
neckline displayed enough of her breasts to confirm that she
wore no bra underneath. A fact that Frank had already
surmised from the movement under the loose fitting top as
she'd walked barefoot into the room.

Through the thin fabric of her elastic waisted pants,
Frank could detect a faint, slightly darker white shadow of
a pair of string bikini panties that could have barely
covered the bikini trimmed patch of hair between her legs.

Frank could feel himself becoming aroused, an almost
natural state when he was with Heather, just watching her as
she moved from the door to the couch.

"Better?" Frank asked, unable to keep his eyes off her
bare, well tanned midriff and silk covered breasts. Even
though his robe covered as much if, not more, Heather's
clothing, he felt strangely over dressed as if he should be
wearing a pair of pajamas or something. He pulled his robe
tighter around his body to conceal his growing hardness.

Heather smiled and nodded slightly, knowing exactly the
effect she was having on her handsome companion. "I took a
quick shower to wash off the suntan oil off. I hope you
didn't mind the wait."

Frank smiled indulgently, "It was pure agony. But
seeing you in that outfit was worth waiting until eternity
if necessary."

Although she'd grown accustomed to compliments over the
past few years, Heather could feel the warmth of a blush
spreading over her body. This was not going the way she had
envisioned it. She mentally shook herself.

"Thank you dear, that was very nice. Now then, please
sit down, darling," she said, motioning toward the couch
facing the picture window of the suite. "We have a lot of
serious talking ahead of us."

Frank, sensing that this was not the time to express his
desire for Heather, sat down at the far end of the couch.
Heather smiled her thanks and sat down on the other end,
facing Frank. She demurely drew her legs up and tucked her
bare feet under her.

"You remember John Robbins, don't you?" Heather began
without preamble.

Frank looked startled, then nodded slowly. He hadn't
thought about John Robbins in years. "He was my father's
business partner. He died in a swimming accident about five
years ago, while on vacation." Frank paused, thinking
briefly how upset his father had been when he had learned
about John's death. He'd attended the memorial service for
Robbins with his father, and had been embarrassed when the
older man had broken down in tears. He'd only met John a
couple of times and hadn't known him that well but knew his
father had thought highly of him.

"What does John Robbins have to do with your 'secret
past'?"

"Quite a bit, actually. You know they couldn't recover
his body?" Heather waited until Frank nodded conformation.
"That was because there never was one," Heather replied.
Frank shot a look of disbelief toward the diminutive woman.

"What are you talking about, 'never was one'? Of course
there wasn't a body, it was swept out to sea," Frank paused,
eyeing Heather suspiciously, "How did you know that there
wasn't a body?"

"Because, my beloved, John Robbins didn't die in a
swimming accident."

"He didn't?" Frank asked, surprised. "Then what
happened to him? How did he die"

Heather looked steadily at Frank and very calmly
announced. "John Robbins is very much alive and right here
in the hotel suite with you."

"What? He is? Where?" Frank involuntary looked around
wildly, fully expecting to see a ghost walk through one of
the closed bedroom doors.

"Right here, darling, sitting right beside you. I am
John Robbins," Heather said softly. "I faked my death, five
years ago."

Frank stared at the blonde shaking his head, not knowing
whether to call a doctor or laugh at her preposterous
"confession". Disbelief was written all over his face as he
laughed the second time in less than two minutes.

Heather sighed, knowing this wouldn't be easy. "Really,
sweetheart, I am the person once known to the world as John
Robbins, a man, husband to Karen Robbins and father of three
beautiful little girls and your father's business partner."

Frank shook his head again, abruptly convinced that the
girl that he'd fallen in love with had suddenly lost her
mind. There was absolutely no way, this beautiful, petite
blonde could have been John Robbins! John had been at least
a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier and, the
incontestable clincher, a man.

"There's absolutely no way you could make me believe
that you're John Robbins. For that matter, I can't I
believe that you think I would," Frank said flatly.

"But it's true, Frank darling. I am, or was, John
Robbins," Heather insisted.

"I've got to go," Frank responded quickly. He rose to
his feet, firmly convinced that whatever had been between
himself and Heather had played itself out. It was a
terrible disappointment, but survivable if he left now and
never looked back.

Before Frank could move to toward the door however,
Heather leaped to her feet and moved quickly to block him
from leaving. Both knew the tiny blonde couldn't have
prevented him from leaving if he'd wanted to. However,
Frank really love her and the determined look on her
beautiful face forced Frank to pause momentarily to see what
she would do next.

Frank was pleasantly surprised when Heather slipped her
arms under his robe and around his waist. Pressing herself
tightly against his body, she rested her smooth cheek
against his bare chest. He enjoyed the sensation, but it
wasn't enough to change his mind.

"Frank, please don't," she pleaded, gripping him tightly
to her.

"Heather, I -- I'm sorry." Frank began to remove
Heather's arms from around his waist, stopping only when he
felt the wetness of her sudden tears on his chest. He
paused, his heart melting in sympathy. She was seriously
ill, it was the least he could do to let her try to talk it
out.

"Please, Frank," she pleaded again, much weaker as
though she had already lost her appeal. "Please stay and
listen to me. I've lived with this for far too long not to
tell someone about it. If you still want to walk out when
I'm through, I won't stop you. I, I'll understand."

"Alright," Frank sighed. "I didn't have anything planed
for the rest of the afternoon anyway."

Heather reached her arms up around Frank's neck and
pulled his face down to hers. Wiping her tears away with
one hand she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, murmuring,
"Thank you, thank you", several times.

Frank allowed Heather to gently push him back onto the
couch. She sat down beside him and took his hand in hers,
obviously struggling to compose herself. Frank kept his
hand intentionally limp, not wanting to give the impression
that he had believed any of what she had said so far. He
gazed dispassionately down at her, as if he were daring her
to convince him that the sun rose in the West or that a
beautiful and very petite woman could have once been a six
foot tall man.

Undaunted, Heather began where she had left off. "Five
years ago next month, Karen and I went on vacation with and
our two kids, Wendy, who was seven at the time and our son
Christopher who was five."

"Wait a second," Frank interjected, "here you are
beginning some cock and bull story about you being John
Robbins and before you even get started, you've screwed up
your facts."

"What makes you think that, Frank?" Heather asked
slightly annoyed by the interruption.

"Not ten minutes ago you said you had three daughters,
not a boy and a girl."

Heather sighed to herself, she could tell that it was
going to be a long night. "That was what we had, when we
started out on our vacation. Now then, darling, if you
would just shut up for a while, you'll learn the incredible
story of how John Robbins, the me that I used to be, became
Heather Johnson, the me that sits beside you now."

Frank started to open his mouth to protest again.
Heather quickly pressed her slender finger tips to his lips.
"Please, darling. Don't make this any more difficult than
it already is."

Frank sighed silently and nodded. The fewer
interruptions he made, the quicker she would finish and the
quicker he could get out of here, he had decided.

Heather removed her fingers from his lips and grasped
his hand again. "As I was saying. Karen and I had rented a
beach house for two weeks for our summer vacation. A few
nights before we were scheduled to return home, the kids and
I were on the beach watching shooting stars. Karen had
already gone back to the beach house to clean up and make
some hot chocolate...."

-0-0-0-

Author's note:

Heather began telling Frank her story contained in part
two of the Dark Crystal stories. To repeat it here would
take even longer, as Heather broke down in tears many times
during the telling. Each time she managed to compose
herself and continue as Frank grew more fascinated by the
story. When she reached the point where the Dark Crystal
had changed the sex of her young son and herself, she broke
down and sobbed her heart out for nearly half an hour.

It was all Frank could do, to just hold her in his arms
and let the beautiful Heather work it out without breaking
down in tears himself. If you are interested in the story of
how John became the beautiful Heather, I can only suggest
you download the Dark Crystal Stories by Olivia Evans and
enjoy.

-0-0-0-

"I'm sorry, while that was an entertaining story," Frank
said rising from the couch and stretching, "you still
haven't convinced me that you are, or were John Robbins."

"I am who I say I am, Frank," Heather said softly up at
the standing figure of her companion. "What if what I've
just told you is not the absolute truth, then why would I
have lied to you?"

Heather followed Frank with her eyes as he walked over
to the suite's picture window and stared out at the desert.
While the view was spectacular this time of the day, Heather
suspected he wasn't really seeing anything beyond the sheet
of glass. She sat silently waiting, not knowing what else
she could have done.

Frank stared silent out the window for a long time,
oblivious to the spectacular sunset and obviously thinking
about what Heather had said.

Was she telling the truth, as impossible as it seemed,
or not? There is an old adage, about truth being stranger
than fiction. But her chronicle of handling a crystal her
son had found, going to sleep, then awakening to finding
herself trapped in the body of a woman, was beyond the realm
of "strange", it was inconceivably bizarre.

On the other hand, some times even what appeared to be
humanly impossible, was. Frank brought his finger tips to
his temple and rubbed them trying to ease the whirlwind of
contradictory thoughts racing though his mind. It didn't
seem to help much.

Finally making up his mind, Frank turned and faced
Heather.

Heather didn't know how to interpret the odd look on his
face when Frank spun around and faced her. She suddenly
felt a chill of fear that she'd lost Frank for good.

"Alright," Frank began, "let's assume for the moment
that what you've told me is true. You are, were John
Robbins, and some rock that washed up from the ocean changed
your physical appearance and sex. I have two questions for
you. Why didn't your wife, Karen, or your real daughter,
Wendy isn't it, change as your son and you had? And
secondly, what happened after you left the vacation home?"

Heather relaxed and smiled inwardly. Frank was finally
beginning to believe. Thank God!

"I've wondered about why they didn't end up looking like
me, thousands of times. The only explanation I can think is
the basic difference in our chromosomes."

"Your chromosomes?"

"You know that genetic female chromosomes are 'XX' while
male chromosomes are 'XY', don't you?"

"Sure, everyone knows that," Frank said impatiently,
"how do you think that figures in?'

"This is only a guess on my part, but I think that the
crystal's 'powers', for lack of a better term, was triggered
by the 'Y' half. When it sensed the 'Y" it simply added
another leg, making the 'Y" an 'X'. Although 'simply' is
probably the mildest understatement you'll hear from me
tonight. Anyway, since Karen and Wendy already had the
'extra' leg, they were totally unaffected by the crystal's
powers. That's why they didn't end up being males or the
same sizes as Chris and I did."

Frank thought about it for a moment or two. "That
sounds plausible, I guess, although you'll have to admit,
the entire concept is hard to swallow."

"It's even harder to swallow when its your own
chromosomes that receive the 'benefits' of that extra
'leg'," Heather smiled ruefully.

Frank nodded his silent agreement. "But what about the
rest of the changes? If it had been as simple as changing
your chromosomes from a 'XY' to an 'XX', then logic would
dictate that you should have end up being a female version
of your old self."

"You're right, it should have. That's what has me
stumped. Chris and I appear to share much of the same basic
physiological characteristics, other than our ages, we even
had the same color of hair and hair style, almost too short
for a girl's. Even stranger than that, our ears were
pierced in the exact identical spots!"

"You're kidding!" Frank exclaimed. "That certainly
couldn't have been just because your genes were altered."

"I can only assume that the Crystal was intentionally
programmed in some way," Heather fell silent, once again
pondering the other, equally inconceivable changes in her
body.

"Well, if your looks are due to somebody's programing,
I'm impressed. You're a very beautiful woman for someone
that used to be a man," Frank laughed somewhat uneasily.
"From what I remember of John Robbins, I don't think that he
would have turned out half as sexy looking as you are."

Heather smiled her thanks. Frank's compliments had been
unusual variations of the compliments she'd usually received
since she had become a woman. Unusual, but not entirely
unwelcomed, especially since they had come from Frank.

"But what about your mental state? I know if I'd had my
sex suddenly changed without wanting it, I'd have probably
killed myself."

Heather looked thoughtful before answering Frank's
question. "I think that it would be harder to change over a
long period of time knowing that you couldn't prevent it.
As it was, the actual change was relatively quick and
entirely painless. I actually slept through the whole
thing." Heather had chosen her words carefully to avoid
answering Frank's real question of how she could have
accepted the change so easily.

Frank was not distracted so easily, however, "Quick and
painless," Frank repeated. "But how did you feel about it?"

"That part of the story, will have to wait a while,
beloved," Heather said smilingly. "It's getting late, and
I'm starving. Why don't we have dinner, then we can talk
about what happened to me then later this evening."

"Sounds good," Frank said starting to rise. He felt the
pockets of his robe for his keys.

"Where are you going?" Heather asked, alarmed. Was he
going to leave her after all? "I thought we could have room
service bring something up and eat here."

"Heather dear, we were swimming all afternoon. My
trunks are still damp and are beginning to chafe. I want to
go home, take a shower to wash the chlorine off and change
into some dry clothes."

"You could take a shower here, you know," Heather
suggested.

"And wear something of your's afterwards?" Frank smiled
and shook his head. "I don't think that anything of your's
would fit, do you?"

Heather smiled at the thought of Frank trying to get
into some of her clothing. It would be almost the exact
reverse of what had happened to her after the Crystal had
changed her to a female. "You know, one of the nice things
about this terribly expensive hotel suite is that the hotel
provides free bathrobes for their guests. The ones that
they left for me are not quite my size. You could wear one
of those."

Frank thought for a second and shook his head.

Heather thought quickly. "I could wash your back for
you?" she suggested quietly, almost inaudibly.

Frank stared at the lovely creature that had just
offered to join him in her shower. He'd detected the note
of quiet desperation in her voice and felt ashamed of his
earlier actions. A week ago, even 3 hours ago, he would
have jumped at the chance. To do so now, would be to take
advantage of an emotionally distraught and very vulnerable
woman. On the other hand, given the state of her mind at
the moment, he didn't dare leave her alone. There is no
telling what she would to. Frank made up his mind.

"Alright, I'll shower here."

Heather nodded and began to remove her top. Frank saw
what she was doing and put his hand over hers.

"Heather?" She looked up expectantly at him, her eyes
dull. "Why don't you call room service while I take a
shower. By myself, okay?"

Heather dropped her hands heavily to her side. "Okay,"
she repeated in a quiet voice that was as tiny as herself.

-0-0-0-

Frank took full advantage of the luxurious bathroom in
Heather's suite. A shower that would have taken him ten
minutes or less was stretched out to nearly half an hour,
mainly because the hot water stayed hot. While he showered,
he decided to sample the hotel's complementary shampoo and
conditioner and shave using Heather's pink razor. He
decided the shampoo and conditioner were of excellent
quality and Heather's razor was a little dull.

But mostly he enjoyed drying off using the hotel towels.
He'd never seen towels that big or that soft before. He was
just reaching for one of the complementary bathrobes, as
soft and fluffy as the towels, when Heather knocked on the
door.

"Our dinner is here," she called through the door.
Frank hurriedly wrapped the bathrobe over his naked body.

When Frank walked into the living room, he was
astonished by what he saw. The room service department had
gone out of their way to make the meal memorable for their
favorite long time patron.

While Frank had been in the shower, a small crew had
carefully set up a small round table near the big picture
window. It was an abbreviated version of the formal dinning
room sixteen stories below complete with a blindingly white
table cloth and gold trimmed dinnerware.

Heather was already seated at the small table, staring
at the lights of the city below far below the penthouse
suite while she waited patiently for Frank. Standing
slightly behind and to the right of her, was a waiter in a
tuxedo with a small towel draped over his arm.

Sitting next to the table was an ice bucket with a cloth
wrapped wine bottle. Frank had no doubt that it contained
the most expensive wine in the house.

Two tall silver candle holder held thin beeswax tapers
that were lit by the formally clad waiter as Frank walked
into the room. Discreetly ignoring Frank's bathrobe, the
waiter waited until Frank sat down before he lit the candles
and showed the wine bottle label to Frank.

Frank nodded his approval, secretly impressed, it was
the most expensive wine in the house. The waiter poured a
small amount of wine in their glasses and then excused
himself when Heather said they would serve themselves.

"Please call when you're done, madam. Someone will be
right up to pick up the dirty dishes," he said, bowing
slightly as he backed out of the door to the hallway.

As the door clicked shut, Frank and Heather looked at
each other and began chuckling.

"All I asked for was two of tonight's specials. I had
no idea it included a waiter. I wonder what he thought when
you walked in wearing nothing but that bathrobe," Heather
laughed. It had been the first time Heather had laughed
since they had returned from the pool that afternoon.

"You should do that more often," Frank said seriously.

Suddenly self conscious, Heather looked questioningly at
Frank. "Do what?"

"Laugh. You look much prettier when you do."

Heather bushed, feeling annoyed with herself for doing
so. What was it about this man that with no more than a
slight compliment, could make her feel as giddy as a school
girl on her first date. Her blush deepened when she
realized she had made a comparison to an event and emotion
she'd never experienced, at least not as a female.

"Just be quiet and eat your dinner, will you?" Heather
commanded, keeping her eyes carefully lowered to her plate.

Like the very first meal they had eaten together, their
conversation was mostly small talk. Neither wanted to
return to the afternoon's subject of conversation just yet.

-0-0-0-

The waiter and the clean up crew had come and gone
nearly an hour before Heather picked up on the conversation
again. By unspoken agreement they hadn't turned on the
lights, preferring the soft glow coming in the window from
the city and bright casino signs below.

Frank sat on the couch, watching Heather as she paced
back and forth in front of the picture window. It was a
trait John Robbins had when ever he had been under stress,
or thinking hard about something.

In the softly defused light from the window, Heather's
clothing had became nearly transparent, mere wisps of pale
white mist that outlined Heather's breathtaking silhouette.
It gave her body a ghostly, surreal like glow.

"You don't have to tell me anymore, if you don't want
to," Frank said softly. In spite of the bizarre events of
Heather's tale, Frank had grown fascinated with what had
happened. He wanted very much for her to continue, but knew
that it would come at the speed she wanted. He couldn't
rush her.

Heather's silhouette shook its head. "No, I've started
this, I have to finish it."

"Take your time," Frank said. "Why don't you start with
your 'death'?"

"Ah, yes, my 'death'. After I'd been changed into a
woman, I knew that no one would believe me if I claimed to
be who I really was. The only logical thing to do was to
officially kill off John Robbins, who no longer existed
anyway. Of course, Karen would inherit everything, while I
would have to start over."

"Karen reluctantly agreed. Karen drove me to a motel
not far from our home, returned to the vacation home, then
reported the 'accident'. The plan for my 'reappearance' as
Heather Johnson, was really quite simple. Shortly after the
memorial service, Karen's cousin, me, a drop out college
freshman from Chicago, would show up to help out with the
kids while she returned to work and played the grieving
'widow'. We figured that way we could still live together
and not attract any unwanted attention."

"But it didn't quite work out that way?" Frank offered.

"Yes, it did. It worked quite well as a matter of fact,
at first. Karen, keeping up the appearance of being the
sole source of income, returned to work. I stayed home with
the kids, which I enjoyed immensely. I think I became
closer to Christina and Wendy as their older cousin, than I
ever could have as their father."

Heather laughed ironically, "You know, in some respects
it was funny. Before we had gone on that vacation, I'd
never been able to find time for my family. Too busy
earning a living was the usual excuse. The truth is, I'd
had a difficult childhood and didn't really know how to
relate to my family. Exchanging my penis and testicles for
a vagina and ovaries had a profound effect on how I looked
and felt about things."

"I can imagine," Frank chuckled, interrupting Heather.

Heather stared at Frank for a moment. "No, Frank you
can't! Even with the wildest stretch of your imagination,
you couldn't even begin to come close to comprehending what
it felt like."

Chastened, Frank nodded.

"Afterwards, well, I really got into being an 'older
sister' to my own children. I was delighted when we
discovered that Karen was pregnant with Linda Marie. I had
already gotten heavily into the feminine role of nurturing
the girls and was looking forward to being the baby's
'nanny'. As Karen's pregnancy progressed, my nurturing
'instincts' grew. Up until about Karen's sixth month, I
even seriously considered talking to her Gynecologist about
giving me something so I could be a wet nurse to the baby."

"Didn't that bother you?" Frank asked, fascinated by
Heather's frank dialogue. "I mean that's a little extreme
don't you think?"

"No, not really. I was in my own little world of
learning how to be a woman and I wanted to experience as
much as I could as quickly as I could. This may be hard for
you to understand, but initially it wasn't that difficult
for me to accept being a female. Even when I discovered
that while we're usually treated as second class citizens, I
found being a woman can more fun than you could ever
imagine."

"More fun being a woman? Even to the point of wanting
to be a wet nurse? No, thank you, I'm happy the way I am,"
Frank laughed lightly.

"Of course you are, darling, after all, you're just a
man and don't know any better." Heather laughed softly to
herself, thinking that she would have said the same thing
herself, if the situation had been reversed. "As I said
before, you couldn't even begin to understand how wonderful
being a female and feeling feminine all the time can be. If
you had gone through what I did...," she trailed off, eyeing
Frank speculatively.

"Seriously, why do you think you found it was easy?
From what I remember of John, he, you were pretty macho."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" Heather said distantly,
thinking about how she had acted as a man. So alien to what
she felt now that it was almost as if she had been living a
bad dream. Maybe it had been.

"Apparently there had been some kind of mood modifier
subroutine in the Crystal's program or design, that made it
easy for me to accept being a woman. Even having periods
didn't bother me that much. As I said, for the first six or
seven months everything was fine, no, more than fine, it was
wonderful. As the modifier programing began wearing off
however, I began suffering from 'panic' attacks. I felt
like a man trapped in a woman's body, the literal truth.
Poor Karen, I almost drove her crazy with my antics."

"For weeks at a time, I refused to leave the house,
afraid that someone would recognize me as being John Robbins
wearing a body that certainly didn't belong to me.
Intellectually, I knew that would be impossible, there had
been too many changes in my anatomy, but I was terrified of
the idea of discovery anyway. On those few times when I did
leave, I would try to disguise my appearance as much as
possible. I decided the best disguise was the exact
opposite of what I had become, so I began wearing nothing
but men's clothing. In my confused state, I thought that if
I looked like a man, no one would suspect that I wasn't what
I seemed. Not very logical, I'll admit, but it was the only
way I could cope."

Heather paused and laughed bitterly. "As time wore on,
my denial of the reality of my new gender became stronger.
I hated the way I looked, the way I moved when I walked, the
sound of my voice, the weakness of my body, my hair which
was growing out, even Karen who refused to let me cut it
short again, anything that was feminine about me, I
detested. I went from wearing men's clothing only when I
was at home to nearly all the time."

"Ironically, even with binding my breasts so they
wouldn't be so prominent, the best I could was to look like
a well developed twelve year old girl wearing her father's
clothing. After all, how many five foot two inch men have
you seen lately? Or any with a figure like mine? They
don't make men's clothing that will conceal a body like
this! I understandably attracted far more attention than I
wanted, much to Karen's amusement."

Frank tried to imagine what Heather would look dressed
like a twelve year old boy. Pretty sexy, he decided.

"You know, its funny. For the first six months, when I
couldn't get enough of being a woman, Karen and I lived in
the Mall, going from store to store just trying on clothing.
Shoes especially. I adored heels, the higher the better. I
still do, although now, I buy for comfort as well as looks.
We had to exercise considerable restrain when it came to
actually buying anything, however. Otherwise, I would have
ended up with more shoes than what's her name, the wife of
that Filipino dictator?"

"Uh, Marcos?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, when the mood modifier
wore off, the full impact began to hit me. As I said,
everything about my woman's body was totally alien to my
reemerging male senses. Even my love life began to suffer.
Although, Karen's pregnancy, you know I'd impregnated her
the night before I became a female? Her pregnancy may have
had a lot to do with that part of it."

"Your love life? You were sleeping with men?" Frank
asked startled.

Heather laughed, "Hardly! The thought of making love to
a man, and possibly becoming pregnant in the process, scared
the hell out of me. Remember, despite of having a woman's
body, I lacked the intense 'conditioning' most girls receive
almost from birth to get pregnant and have a baby. The mood
modifier wasn't strong enough to change that, thank God!"

Heather looked silently out into the night for a second.
"If my childhood had been a little happier, I might have
though. Although I had the looks and body to attract men by
the score, I was still more interested in women in general
and Karen in particular. It was all I could do to keep my
hands to myself in the gym showers after my aerobics
classes." Heather chuckled, sounding oddly mannish, "Of
course, Karen wasn't subject to any restraints on my part in
that area."

"But how did you and Karen...?"

Heather laughed at Frank's naive question. "Really
Frank, how do you think we did it? Let's just say that
women who are into 'that sort of thing' as you said this
afternoon, make far better lovers than any man on earth. Or
at least I think so, I haven't tried the other side yet."

"By the time Karen was entering into her ninth month, it
became obvious to us both that it was not going to work. I
stayed until the baby was six months old then left. Oh, I
didn't leave Karen and the kids flat. I couldn't, Karen
owned the house and my entire estate out right. I was the
one that had drowned, remember?"

"When your father bought out my share of the company, he
was very generous, giving Karen about half again as much as
my share was really worth. Karen gave me about a third of
it when I left to start a new life for myself. She couldn't
stand to see me leave without anything but the clothing on
my back and my car. Being the practical woman she is, she
kept the lion's share for herself and the kids."

"Karen gave you enough out of what my father paid her
for you to be able to afford this?" Frank asked astonished.
"Why, the rent on this place must be at least five hundred a
night!"

"Close enough, they give me a discount for renting by
the month. My share was substantial, but not that much."
Heather stopped her slow pacing long enough to turn and face
towards Frank. "Darling, take a good look at me. What do
you see?"

Frank couldn't see her features in the dark room, but
had an excellent view of her shapely silhouette. "Uh, I see
a very beautiful and sexy woman," Frank said, not sure why
she had asked the obvious.

Heather gave a long sigh. "I knew you would say that,
nearly all you men react the same way."

"I'm sorry, but you asked," Frank said as though he was
somehow defending the male gender.

"I know, Frank. Don't apologize for confirming what I
can see for myself every time I take a shower or look in the
mirror to put my makeup on. At least you didn't add 'dumb
blonde' to your description. A lot of men do."

"Uh, to be honest, the thought did cross my mind," Frank
admitted, embarrassed.

"Well, at least you're typically male in that respect,"
Heather laughed. "But think about it, Frank. Who owns most
of the assets or really controls the money in the world
today?"

Frank opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head.

"Women do. Either through inheritance, such as Karen's
insurance settlement, or through default. In most
households, the wife controls the household expenditures."

"Yeah, so?"

"Frank darling, think about it. I'm an attractive woman
with the mind and instincts of a very successful businessman
by the name of John Robbins. I know how men think, probably
better than any other woman alive, because I've had first
hand knowledge of being one. I know exactly what buttons to
push to make men respond to my needs in exactly the way I
want. I also know how to handle money, large amounts of
money, so that it will make more money."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say,"
Frank said uneasily.

"Simply stated, I used my looks and body to make money,
an awful lot of money." Heather laughed ironically,
"Probably far more than I could have as John Robbins."

"Are you telling me that you worked as a prostitute?"
Frank exclaimed, shocked.

"Hardly," Heather said dryly, "I've managed to remain a
virgin since this happened and you can't do that if you're a
prostitute. Besides, if I had chosen that lifestyle, I
would have been a call girl, commanding far more respect and
pay, rather than an ordinary street walker. No, Frank, I
didn't sell my body, I just took advantage of the fact that
most men do not take good looking women, especially blondes,
seriously."

"What did you do?"

Heather hesitated a few seconds before answering. "I
don't think that I'll tell you what I did. I may need to --
do it again someday. I will tell you what I did not do,
however. I did not do anything that was illegal, or
immoral. I just took advantage of who I had been, and what
I had become. And, although he doesn't really know the
reason, both your father and I have become very rich because
of it."

Startled by the revelation that his father had been
Heather's unwitting partner, Frank took a second or two to
form his question. "My Father? Does he know about you,
that you used to be John Robbins?"

"No. I didn't think that it would be a wise thing to
tell him. As far as he's concerned, I'm just Heather
Johnson, an attractive and uncommonly smart business woman.
One who makes him a lot of money." Heather laughed,
"Meeting your father as Heather was the hardest, or rather
the second hardest thing I've ever done. I was sick for two
days after our first meeting. Now, it's no big deal."

"I can imagine -- sorry, I shouldn't use that term.
That first meeting must have been something else," Frank
mused, thinking how his father would react if he had known
the truth about Heather. "You said that was the second
hardest thing you had done, what was the first?"

"My, but aren't we the nosy one?" Heather laughed,
making the mild insult a joke. "Learning how to use my
femininity was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You
see when the mood modifier wore completely off, my mental
state became diametrically opposed to my body. While I
still loved and desired women, I was built to attract men.
The thought of loving or being made love to by a man was
abhorrent to me. Oh, I didn't avoid contact with men
altogether, quite the opposite, I could shake hands with
them, dance cheek to cheek with them, even allowed a few, a
very few, to paw my breasts when it was necessary. But
beyond that, no," Heather shuddered, "I once slugged a guy,
because he forced me in a corner and tried to kiss me."

"Around women, a strange thing began to happen. I loved
being around them, and the more I was, the more I became
feminine. I slowly began to like being a female again.
Perhaps it's the female hormones flowing through my body
that has made me really appreciate what I had gained by
being a woman."

"You feel better about yourself?" Frank asked.

"Yes, darling," Heather whispered, "I have come to term
with my sex and sexuality. The only thing left now is to
become a more complete woman, maybe settle down, have a baby
and raise a family. I can certainly afford to have one now.
Speaking of now, I think I've waited long enough to try out
this body of mine in the way it was designed. Will you do
me the honors, Frank?"

Frank wanted to, very much. From the very moment he had
first seen Heather, he had wanted her.

Heather pulled her top off over her head. She reached
out and pulled a very willing Frank from his seated position
on the couch. A heartbeat later she was in his arms and
struggling to untie the cloth belt of his robe. Frank would
have helped her, but his hands were busy on her magnificat
breasts. By the time she had opened his robe he was ready,
more than ready.

"One moment darling, while remove the last obstacle, my
pants," Heather whispered to Frank. Frank continued to rain
kisses on her neck and face, while he shrugged out of his
robe. In one swift motion, Heather slipped her silk pants
and string bikini panties off and stood gloriously naked in
front of the man she had decided would be her first lover.

"You're beautiful," Frank whispered slowly inspecting
every inch of Heather standing before him. He bent down and
scooped her up into his arms. Heather laid her head against
his bare chest and began to kiss his nipples. Frank moved
toward the couch.

"No, wait. I don't want to do it here, take me to the
bedroom, the bed is far more comfortable, and larger,"
Heather said giggling with anticipation. "And Frank?"

"Yes darling?" Frank said as he turned and walked toward
the bedroom.

"Please be gentle with me. I'm still a virgin, you
know."

"I will darling, I will."

-0-0-0-

Frank looked cautiously at the still form sleeping
soundly beside him. Heather was exhausted so, for that
matter, was he, who wouldn't have been. She may have been a
virgin but man, once she'd lost her maidenhead she became a
regular mink! Frank had never before been so thoroughly
used, and used up.

Frank was tired, but he had something very important to
do before he could finally go to sleep.

Slowly easing himself out of the bed, he paused for a
second to turn and look at Heather. He froze as she moaned
softly in her sleep and rolled over.

Satisfied that she was sound asleep, Frank walked over
to the suite's huge walk in closet, silently opened the door
and stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, Frank took
the chance of turning on the light.

He spent the next twenty minutes carefully going through
the built in dresser drawers, then through the clothing
hanging on hangers. Every garment he looked at had the same
two things in common, they were very expensive and all very
small. Finally, he picked up a pair of shoes from the
dozens that were scattered carelessly on the floor. All but
a few pair were high heels, some as high as four and a half
inches, but most were about three inch in height.

She was right, Frank mused to himself, she did have a
thing about shoes. He carefully inspected the shoe and
another one, of a different style. Satisfied, he carefully
replaced the shoes and took one last look around. It would
take an exceptionally observant to tell that the closet had
been thoroughly searched.

Smiling to himself, Frank turned out the light and
quietly opened the door to the bedroom. He stepped through
and closed the door, glancing at the bed he had left just
moments before. Heather was laying face up, still sound
asleep, although she had kicked the covers off of her naked
body.

He nothing to conceal, because he had taken nothing,
merely looked at most of Heather's belongings. He couldn't
have hidden anything if he had, he was as naked as the soft,
sensuous woman sleeping peacefully on top of the sheets.

Frank stood admiring her form. She's so tiny, he
thought to himself. So tiny and perfect, all woman and all
his -- if he wanted her, and right this moment he did, but
was too worn out to do anything about it. Ah, well, he
sighed, tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

-0-0-0-

"Do you have to go?" Heather asked late the following
morning.

Frank nodded, pulling on his now dry swimming suit.
"I'm afraid so, honey. I was supposed to be in Boston
yesterday. If I don't make it there tonight for sure,
Father will kill me."

Heather laughed lightly, "Come on now, Frank. Your
father isn't that bad, after all he was my partner and I
should know."

Frank paused just long enough to shake his head. "You
may have been his partner, but I am his son. You don't know
him like I do. He's not a nice man, Heather. Really he's
not."

"Well, everything will work out," Heather said unsure if
it would. "Are you going to tell him about us?"

"Of course, just as soon as I get back. I couldn't keep
you a secret from him anyway."

"No I suppose not," Heather smiled. "Can I take you to
the airport?"

Frank glanced at the clock sitting on the night stand.
"How about dinner instead? My flight doesn't leave until
about six, and I have some things I have to do, besides
putting on some more appropriate clothing, that is. I don't
think the airlines would let me fly wearing just a bathing
suit."

Heather inspected Frank's nearly naked body. "You said
your flight doesn't leave until six?" Frank nodded. "It's
only ten now, so you have plenty of time," Heather lowered
her eyes and looked coyly at Frank through her long lush
eyelashes. "Why don't you fly me for a while instead?"

Frank laughed and pulled down his bathing suit.

-0-0-0-

Frank paid off the taxi driver and waited for him to
drive away before turning to look at the beach house. It
was just as Heather described it. Miles from anywhere. The
perfect place to get away from it all.

Frank picked up two heavy suitcases and a small
overnight bag and began to walk the short distance from the
gravel turnaround to the porch.

Frank opened the house and carried his suitcases to the
second floor bedroom. Glancing longingly at the larger of
the two, he sighed as he pulled his "power tie" from around
his neck and removed his suit coat. There would be time
enough to unpack later, after he'd explored the house a
little and gotten something to eat, although not necessary
in that order.

As promised, the house had been stocked with enough
staples to last him a week, maybe a little longer. If he
decided to stick around that long. Frank fixed himself a
small sandwich and began to wander through the house as he
ate it.

He found the Dark Crystal the second day. Careful not
to touch it with his hands, Frank scooped it up in a paper
plate and carried it to the kitchen. He sat staring at the
unremarkable appearing Crystal for hours before he decided
that he had waited long enough.

Returning to the bedroom, Frank opened the smaller of
his two still unopened suitcases. Glancing briefly at the
contents, he removed a cellular telephone, a gift from his
father when he'd joined the firm, then closed the suitcase
again.

"Won't dear old Dad be surprised when he returns from
his vacation and discovers I've taken my inheritance a
little early?" Frank laughed to himself.

It was amazing how small a package ten million dollars
in bearer bonds made, he thought, even the hundred thousand
in cash didn't take up that much room in the small suitcase.

He opened the larger suitcase and gently touched the
pair of panties laying on top. He didn't bother to remove
anything, it would have been a waste of time, for the
moment. None of the women's clothing in the suitcase would
fit, at least not yet. But soon, so very soon.

He would be giving up so much, not the least of which
was the woman that made all this possible.

Poor Heather, he thought, I hope she finds the man she
wants and needs. He'd actually fallen in love with the
beautiful woman by the time she had confessed her history.
He had almost left her a few weeks after he had met her, but
had decided to stay for a while longer.

Her story hadn't surprised him, he'd known that Heather
had been John Robbins almost from the first. Fingerprints,
even those taken from an empty wine glass, do not lie. In
the end, he had stayed to find out one thing, and one thing
only. Was she a real woman, or an incredible product of
some doctor's expertise?

He knew the answer now, and it both thrilled and scared
him to death.

He almost regretted using her as he had, but he had seen
no other way to extract the information he wanted -- needed
to be able to escape his overbearing and domineering father.
Soon, so very soon, he would disappear so thoroughly that
his father would never find him. Never!

"I'm really sorry, Heather," he said softly to himself.
He thought about how incredibly beautiful she had looked
standing in the departure area window waiting for his plane
to leave only a few hours before.

True to her promise, Heather had picked him up in her
Rolls convertible to take him to the airport. Since Frank
had made his reservations rather hastily that afternoon
after he had left Heather's hotel suite, they had to make a
stop at the travel agent's office to pick up his tickets.
He'd asked if she wanted to go in with him, but she
declined, saying that she didn't want to leave the Rolls and
his suitcases, unattended on a public street.

On the drive to the airport, Heather seemed a little
more cheerful than she had before they'd stopped at the
travel agent. Heather had maintained a cheerful, almost
non-stop, monolog about the good times they would have
together. He'd almost confessed what he was going to do,
but had held back, feeling guiltier by the second as he
listened to the rather lurid descriptions of what she would
do to him in bed when he returned from his "business" trip.

Frank glanced out of the bedroom's big picture window
overlooking the ocean. It would be dark soon, he had better
get to it if he wanted increase his lead. Not that his
father would ever be able to find him anyway.

Taking a moment to remove a nightgown and robe that had
been under the pair of panties in his suitcase Frank laid
them out on the bed. Satisfied that all was ready. he
picked up the cellular telephone and walked back down to the
kitchen.

Frank sat at the kitchen table to dial his father's home
telephone number. On the third ring, the answering machine
picked up. Frank waited until his father's recorded voice
ended then began speaking.

"Dad, this is Frank. I've waited years to tell you
this, you bastard..." Frank talked for nearly twenty
minutes carefully repeating a speech he had rehearsed a
thousand times before. When he was done, he felt better
than he had in years.

He turned off the telephone and threw it against the
wall. Another symbol of Dear Old Dad gone for ever, Frank
thought with a smile as the instrument shattered.

Time for one last bridge to burn, Frank thought,
reaching for the Dark Crystal.

He held the crystal tightly gripped in his hand for
nearly ten minutes, just to make sure. Disappointed that he
hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary, Frank rose and
walked back to the living room where he had discovered the
Dark Crystal wedged between the cushions of the couch.
Carefully putting it back exactly where he had found it, he
yawned and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

It had been a long day.

The next day, he would unpack his suitcase and try out
his new wardrobe. He would be pleasantly surprised to
discover that everything fit perfectly.

Everything, including Heather's parting gift to him he'd
found in the bottom of his suitcase. It had obviously put
there when he'd picked up his tickets. Stunned by the
unexpected discovery, Frank opened the small envelope that
had been attached to the big red ribbon and bow wrapped
around the gift

"Dear Frank," the message began, "I know that you'll get
good use out of this. Having been there, I can promise you
that the rest of your life will be more exciting than you
ever imagine, (there's that word again). Enjoy it to the
fullest. Take care of yourself and remember, that's
something of a time bomb nestled between your shapely legs,
be careful how you use it. There are certain times during
the month, like the last couple of days in my case, that its
use is, well, fulfilling in more ways than one. Good luck
and again take care. Oh, and if you should happen think
about it, look me up in about six or seven months, I'll be
the one with the stomach that sticks way out to here!"

The small card had been signed by Heather.

The brand new, embarrassingly large vibrator had her
loving gift to the best lay she'd ever had or would ever
need again. In a few months Heather would finally find the
beginnings of the family she so desired. It would begin
from within herself.

===========================================================
And so ends the story of Heather, and the story of
Frank, now known as Connie Sue begins.

Watch this and other fine BBS for more stories involving
the Dark Crystal