This has to be the worst day ever. I start out by running late for work with no time for breakfast. I'd been kept awake all week by strange dreams, and today it caught up to me. I underwhelmed a valuable client, my boss and some co-workers during a really important presentation because I felt so distracted. All day I just couldn't focus on my work, and every time I tried my thoughts wandered back to those dreams.

---

Arriving home, I noticed that my front door was wide open. “Great now I've been robbed.” I thought as I cautiously pushed the door fully open. My place looked fine, and taking inventory of my valuables it appeared as though nothing was missing or out of place. That's when I noticed the note on the coffee table by the remote.

Hello Aaron,
It's Heather from last month, remember me?
Well after tonight I promise you'll never forget.
Now don't you worry, I didn't steal anything.
I broke in to give you a gift, believe it or not.
It's on the bed in your room, now run along
and claim it.

P.S. If I were you I'd stay in tonight

Of course I remembered Heather, I had been dreaming about her all month! I dreampt of two women making love, one of them Heather, the other unidentified. At some point in the recurring dream I realized that the girl opposite Heather was me.

Still I hadn't heard a thing from her since, and the meaning of this note was rather puzzling. I half expected her naked on my bed and waiting as I entered my bedroom, instead all I saw was a big book with a black cover. Written in big white letters across the cover, New Werewoman Handbook.

Opening it up to the table of contents, I read through the chapter titles to see if I could decipher any meaning. Each was followed by a brief description.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: What is a Werewoman?

Many people know a werewoman is a man who transforms into a woman during the full moon. But there is so much more to it. Chapter 1 examines the werewoman lifestyle, both the good and the bad..

Chapter 2: How Does One Become a Werewoman?

Some men are born predisposed to becoming werewomen, others become werewomen through fluid exchange with an active werewoman. In chapter 2, learn the many ways to trigger this condition.

Chapter 3: Early Symptoms of Infection

So you think you're becoming a werewoman? Chapter 3 covers the symptoms experienced by werewomen during incubation, the period between contraction and their first transformation.

Chapter 4: Your First Transformation

Will it hurt? How long will it take? When will I change back? The first change can be confusing if you're not prepared, Chapter 4 addresses some common questions surrounding this right of passage.

Chapter 5: Learning to Read Your Body

Your new body, it's shape and size reveals much about a new werewoman. In Chapter 5 learn to read the signals that your new body is sending, and learn what to expect from your present condition.

Chapter 6: The Lunar Cycle and You

All werewomen have varying degrees of control and sensitivity, but only 1% can resist the call of the full moon. In Chapter 6, the role of the moon in our transformation is discussed in detail.

Chapter 7: Changing Outside the Moon

Why am I changing when the moon isn't full? Chapter 7 focuses on transformations that occur at times when the moon is not full. Learn how to prevent an unwanted transformation, or cause one for fun.

Chapter 8: Conclusion

There are different types of werewomen, and this book tries to cover them all. In Chapter 8 we revisit what we've learned and put it all together to answer the question, “What kind of werewoman am I?”

___________________________________________________________________________________

I finished the table of contents laughing out loud, this had to be some kind of joke. I've never heard of a werewoman, and this book seemed to imply that I am one. What a crock, some present, the day just keeps getting worse. I carelessly set the book down on my shelf and headed towards the kitchen.

Removing my blazer and tie, I hung them on a kitchen chair and undid my top collar button. Starting my oven, I tossed in a frozen pizza for dinner. 'Should be ready once I'm out of the shower.' I thought as I headed towards my bedroom.

Thumbing through my closet I settled on some sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. Tomorrow being another big day, I really needed to relax this evening. Turning towards the bathroom, the fading light of a setting sun caught my eye through the window. It reflected off the glossy cover of that strange Werewoman book I had set down earlier.

Gliding down the hall towards my bathroom, unfastening my belt and kicking off my shoes as I went, I felt a faint arousal building within me. The feeling seems to be different than the usual urgent need for relief centered around my penis. Instead it covered a million little points all over my body. “Heh, probably a drug flashback from my partying days.” I quipped. That could explain why I was so out of it at work today.

Spinning the knob in the direction of 'hot' I finished disrobing and stepped through the curtain. The pleasant feelings I had experienced in the hall intensified as the hot water hit my comparatively cool skin. Moaning in response, I found myself making a noise I never had before and it frightened me a bit. As I lathered up with the soap, the pleasure increased. Running my sudsy hands across my body, I became aware of how smooth my skin felt compared to normal. This development would normally alarm me, but I found myself not caring.

I was rock hard now, and even though I had not touched myself in that particular spot my arousal continued to increase. I found myself circling both palms around my nipples, for some reason it felt really good. Then I remembered the pizza. I had to get down to business here, get clean and get out or it would burn. Mustering my willpower, I peeled my hands off my chest and reaching up to grab the shampoo.

Wait a tic? Reaching up? Usually I reached down to get my hair product. Taking note of my surroundings, I noticed that the ceiling seemed farther away from my head, looking down, the floor seemed closer too. That confirmed it, I'm shrinking fast, something strange is happening to me, and the pizza can wait.

My body now tingling in places I never knew existed, I let out another series of involuntary moans of ecstasy. The tingles centered around my erect member, and that's where my eyes went. It began to throb and shrink as I watched in horror.

Reaching a hand down to confirm what my eyes registered, the pleasure overload nearly made me jump out of my skin. Pleasure like I'd never known coursed through me the second my hand brushed against it. This only seemed to hasten the shrinkage. In a moment it was gone.

As lost in pleasure as I was, memories of the strange book came flooding back.

“A werewoman is a man who transforms into a woman during the full moon.”

“Some men are born predisposed to becoming werewomen, others become werewomen through fluid exchange “

“So you think you're becoming a werewoman?”

The passages I'd laughed at earlier flooded my memory as if to mock me in return. Then I remembered the Heather's note.

“P.S. If I were you I'd stay in tonight”

Ripping open the shower curtain, I exited the comfort of the hot water for the cool air outside. The pleasant feeling continued unabated, if anything increasing in response to the new environment. Glancing in the mirror, I could see that I was much shorter and my skin far softer and entirely hairless. Where once my manhood had been, there was nothing but a vertical slit atop a subtle mound. It appears that I am now a 'her..'

Stumbling forward towards the door, I could feel my hips widening as my waist pinched in giving me an hourglass figure that became more pronounced with every step. Balancing was hard. By the time I reached the door my inflating ass jiggled behind me each time my foot hit the floor. And still the pleasurable feelings washed over me like rolling waves.

Twisting the knob, I spilled out into the hall landing on my hands and knees. I felt my chest wobble, and another strange sensation as my newly enlarged nipples stiffened in the cool air. “No God, pleeeeassssse No, not breasts!” I protested to the almighty. My girly voice stunned my ears, and my left hand cupped my mouth in disbelief. My lips felt fuller beneath my small and dainty hand.

I knew the lumps on my chest weren't going to get any smaller. They were going up and out, tugging ever more on my chest and back. I crawled helplessly towards my bedroom door, my hair beginning to tickle the back of my neck. As one hand led the other down the hall, my enlarging breasts wobbled up and down, to and fro. They seemed to move with me. I entered my bedroom to see a newly risen full moon staring through my window, I was mesmerized by it's beauty.

The intense arousal coursing through me reached crescendo as I suddenly became aware of the moisture beading up on my new womanhood. It dribbled down the side of my inner thigh as my new equipment erupted in pleasurable contractions. Right there, in the middle of my first female orgasm, I realized that the New Werewoman Handbook I had received from Heather was no joke.

As I recovered from the change, I realized I'd be referring to the Handbook quite a bit in the immediate future. Gathering my strength I stood up in front of the mirror, well pleased by what I saw.

My self exploration was suddenly cut short by a scent I was none too happy to inhale. Burning pizza...dammit.

 

Part 2

 

I could scarcely believe what happened to me, but fighting the fire in my kitchen stole top priority.

---

Tearing my eyes away from the mirror, I turned and sprinted back towards my kitchen. I managed to keep myself upright easily now, since the change has passed. Still, my locomotion now entirely different, every movement of my body invaded my conscience thoughts.

On my chest, two ample breasts are swinging wildly, rising up together and then swinging down and to the side with each stride.

Wider hips gyrating in a manner entirely foreign made finding my new center of gravity tricky.

It was unnerving how much I enjoyed the jiggle in my rump, rising and falling gently as I hit my stride.

Between my legs, I felt the lips of my moist lotus patch rubbing together with each movement of my long and smooth, hairless legs.

But there was no little 'fire-man' bobbing up and down, no 'coin purse' bouncing around down there. This absence was the most distracting of all.

As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I slammed on the breaks and assessed the situation. The smoke was still thin and the pizza had only just begun to burn. No need for the fire extinguisher thank goodness. Slowly approaching the oven, I seemed to glide across the linoleum, my hips popping with every step. The bobbing on my chest was less intense too. The closer to the oven I got, the sexier my walk became.

'Was I doing that intentionally?' I thought to myself turning the oven knob to off. My train of thought derailed as the smoke alarm began to sing its obnoxious tune. Reaching up to unhook it, my diminished height again became apparent. I quickly fetched a chair to stand on.

Then, using an pot holder, I opened the oven and removed the burnt-up train-wreck of a pizza. I slid the cheesy nightmare into a black hefty bag, crisis averted and one problem solved. If only my other 'problem' could be solved so swiftly.

Hitting the exhaust fan as I exited the kitchen, I began to saunter off down the hall to my bedroom. 'Time to see what that book has in store for me.' my inner monologue began. The bobbing of my new wobbly bits quickly cut into my thoughts again, and once again without realizing it I was walking in an incredibly seductive manner. Like an uber-feminine super model.

I couldn't seem to help it though, even being aware of it did nothing to prevent my erotic gait. Deciding to go with it, I at last admitted to myself that I did in fact feel sexy. And look sexy. Why not walk sexy too?

'Back in my bedroom, I drew the curtains shut and picked up the 'present' Heather had left. I sat on my bed, still unmade from my morning rush, propping up my body with pillows. With the book in my lap, I opened the cover and glanced downwards towards the words on the page.

It was hard to look past the amazing breasts I'd just grown. I was so fond of breasts and even with my very own set that fondness had not diminished. The new parts between my legs reacted to the sight of them heaving with each breath, and bobbing with every motion I made no matter how small. Quickly realizing that I was turning myself on, I closed the book and set it down. “To hell with this book for now, I need to get a better look at myself.” I said to the empty room.

Standing in front of my mirror, still unclothed, I examined myself head to toe. Waving at my reflection, a beautiful brunette waved back. Tossing a stray lock of shoulder length chestnut brown hair aside, I watched my reflection do the same. The motion was so feminine and demure that it made me laugh, and as my lips curled up into a smile so did 'hers.'

Full cupid bow lips adorned my softer, rounder face. “Great bone structure” I whispered in a breathy tone, noting my high cheek-bones. My proud roman nasal bridge had also been replaced by a cute-as-a-button nose. I now possessed a perfect balance of feminine facial features. My jawline too was diminished, but most striking of all was the change to my eyes. Where once they had been a dark brown, now my irises now glowed an emerald green. Just like Heathers.

My eyes traveled downwards, and I drank in my slender female frame. Narrow shoulders, a shorter rib cage, wider hips, long smooth legs. And who could forget the chesticles? No one could at their formidable size. Being somewhat of a breast connoisseur, I pegged them as being between a full 'C' and a light 'D' cup. They hung there like twin pendulums upon my once flat and muscular torso. As frightening as it was, I was overcome by an odd calm.

With the calmness spreading over me, I was emboldened to glance lower. I sat in front of the mirror, spreading my legs and revealing the reflection of my new vagina to my eyes. Slightly obscured by a light brown fur, I traced it's outline with my index finger relishing the sensation. It looked very neatly groomed and well organized, the folds of skin forming a perfect pink canyon. With great daring, I separated the petals of my new flower to reveal it's inner glory.

Being a healthy heterosexual male, I had been up close and personal with my share of bearded clams. But there was something about this one in particular, not only was it mine, it was also the picture of feminine perfection.. Blushing pridefully, I became aware of how easily my probing fingers slid across the surface of the smooth and sensitive pink skin. As if by magic, tiny beads of lubrication materialized on the surface of my 'lady' coating my finger in its musk.

If I didn't turn back soon, I'd be right back where I started writhing in ecstasy on my bedroom floor. Cautiously I let my finger travel to where the sidewalk ended, the crease at the top. As I pressed on it lightly, a small pink hood folded back to reveal a glistening bean. It was all that was left of my once mighty penis, a tiny pencil eraser sized clit.

The sensation from gently handling it sent electric shocks throughout my body. The feeling was far more rewarding than handling my ole' prick had ever been. But just as I started to get carried away into pleasure-land, my thoughts returned to the book once more. As curious as I was to feel the way I had made other women feel, to dance the dance of a female orgasm, I was even more driven to find out what this werewoman business was all about. And that book promised answers.

Loathing the thought but recognizing it's necessity, I covered my nudity with a work shirt hanging in my closet. It hung about me like a dress, covering all of the distracting parts of my new anatomy. Normally hanging 4 inches or so beneath the belt line, the shirt now covered me from neck to knee. Some quick math confirmed that I was nearly a whole foot shorter.

Reluctantly I returned to my cozy nest of pillows and blankets atop my messy bed, and opened the cover of the New Werewoman Handbook once more.

“Chapter 1” I said aloud to my imaginary audience, continuing on in silence...

 

Part 3

 

Chapter 1 had a ton of information. It began by saying, “Chances are, if you are gazing upon this book, the information within applies to YOU.” Check.

I began knowing almost nothing about werewomen, and by the end of the first chapter I knew what they were. Or rather, what I am. The author did a great job explaining our origins, and some basic history. It was interesting to read about how far back the documented cases went, more interesting still was the small section of famous werewomen throughout history.

One name in particular stood out, Ru-Paul. I knew it!

There was some mention of the powers possessed by werewomen, nothing fantastic like flying or invisibility (drat), but if the book was right I'd never be hurting for a date ever again. In either form, we werewomen seemed to be gifted with animal magnetism. I chuckled remembering the 'Kavork' episode of Seinfeld. “Great, all I need is a Latvian Orthodox priest and I'm cured!” I joked to myself. It worked for Kramer, why not me?

I was particularly fascinated by the story of the first werewoman, our Alpha mother Luna. She was the daughter of a very powerful witch at a time when practicing the black arts could get a person burned at the stake. In fact, her mother suffered this fate at the hands of the Inquisition in the seventeenth century. Luna sought a way to disguise herself, apparently she also felt the heat bearing down on her.

To accomplish this end, Luna created a spell that would disguise her as a man. After all, males were far less likely to be branded a witch. But to become a man full time would force Luna to part with her witchly powers, a sacrifice she was not willing to make. So on the nights of the full moon, when black magic is said to be most potent, Luna would don her female form and wield black magic against her oppressors.

The tale of Luna carried over into Chapter 2...

To further disguise her true identity, Luna took a wife in her male form. Her chosen bride was another witch, and their male offspring inherited their 'father's' allergy to moonlight. And so it passed from father to son over centuries uninterrupted. Occasionally, a new werewoman was 'made' by sexual contact between a male and a transformed werewoman. I reckoned that's how I came to be one. The one night stand with lovely Heather had doomed me to this life. A life that, according to the book's estimate, was only shared by about 50,000 individuals worldwide.

With no copyright date it was impossible to tell how much time had passed between that estimate and the present.

The chapter also explained another werewoman power, reading auras. Every living being has a faint energy field surrounding them. Werewomen unlike regular humans are able to gleen information from a person's aura. The readings werewomen are capable of interpreting focus on gender. Ninety percent of the time, a woman would radiate a pink aura, a man blue.

But the other ten percent of the time, the aura would read opposite. Blue for a woman, pink for a man. These readings usually came from folks that identified as trans-gendered. The book went on to describe another aura color, purple. A man or a woman with a purple energy field surrounding them was a fellow werewoman, and this information was useful for identifying ourselves to each other.

To test he information out, I approached the mirror and used the focusing technique described by the author. Incredibly, in a matter of seconds I began to perceive a faint purple glow around me. Losing my concentration, it quickly faded to nothing. 'Cool' I thought to myself, that might come in handy!

I started Chapter 3, but a few lines in I felt myself not comprehending the words on the page. I was beat. Try as I might to read on, my heavy eyelids had other plans. Within moments I drifted off to sleep, knowing the alarm clock would soon ring...

A million bright ambassadors of morning, taking the form of sun-beams, filtered through my thin bedroom curtain. Quickly recalling the events of the previous night I sat up with a jerk, patting down on my chest. It felt muscular and hard, the change must have reversed in my sleep. Any sense of relief I experienced proved to be very temporary, as a glance at the alarm clock confirmed that once again I was running late for work.

Had I not set the alarm?

'Another day, another presentation,' I thought to myself as I rushed to prepare. I was like a beheaded chicken fumbling for everything I needed for my day. I wished to God I could just call in sick, but doing so would definitely cost me my job.

Storming through my living room in the direction of the front door, I spotted a piece of paper on top of my coffee table. Another note from Heather...

Hey Aaron,

It's Heather again, I stopped by late last night to check on you.

You looked so cute curled up in bed with the 'gift' I brought over!

I was so happy to see you reading it, and I couldn't bring myself to

wake you up. I'll be by tonight about an hour after sunset.

Any earlier and you'd only recognize my aura.

See you tonight!

P.S. You should really be more careful in the kitchen.

It smells like you nearly burned this mother down!

What the hell! Not only was I being stalked by a werewoman, but it appeared she was a cat burglar to boot. How did she keep getting in here? As if being cursed wasn't bad enough, I had to deal with this mysterio nonsense. Crumbling the note, I shut my door behind me and rushed out towards work. I didn't even bother locking the door this time. There didn't seem to be much of a point...

 

Part 4

 

Work was a total drag. Once again I was way off during the presentation, and it was embarrassing. I couldn't get my mind off the book, last night, the change...and tonight. If the book was accurate, and it had been so far, I'd be changing into a woman again at moon rise. Try working with that in the back of your mind!

On top of that, my scheduled confrontation with Heather that evening was being scripted by my brain's writing staff all afternoon. What was I going to say to her? Besides the obvious, “Why me?” and “Is there a cure?” there were other things I wanted to ask. Burning questions such as, "How did you get in and out of my apartment without leaving a trace? Twice!" also entered my thoughts. I just couldn't figure out how to word everything.

At one point near the end of the day, I found myself thinking about...aura's of all things. Remembering the focusing technique I learned, I stared out the interior facing window of my office and locked in on a group of co-workers. Pinks and blues outlined my subordinates. And what's this? It appeared that one co-worker, Jerry had a secret! His aura read pink as a newborn baby-girl's nursery. No wonder he was so good at conversing with women and never related to sports talk. Snappy dresser too. If anything that was a high point in my day, realizing that some people would probably kill to be in my shoes right now.

But I left the office with my heart in my throat, knowing my special time drew near. The afternoon sun didn't have far to travel as I pulled into my lot. Fumbling with my keys, I bumped the door and open it flew. Right. I didn't bother locking up. Upon entering, I glanced at my coffee table. No note was there this time.

The sky was darkening as I disrobed in my bedroom. At least tonight I would be prepared for the curse to take over. I laid calmly on my bed waiting for the inevitable, determined to watch every second of my metamorphosis. I didn't have to wait long. The moon crested the horizon, and the vague arousal throughout my body, the same feeling that enveloped me last night, returned.

I moaned and giggled as the tingling increased. I could feel the bedsheets moving beneath of me, or rather me moving over top of them. They felt softer against my now smooth and hairless skin. I was shrinking as I watched, I could tell because my feet were getting further and further from the edge of the bed. Looking down at my little warrior, I saw him stand at attention. Almost as if to salute his general one last time before retiring for the night. I mock saluted back as the words, 'soldier, you are dismissed.' crossed my mind.

“Why not lend a hand?” I thought, remembering the sensation produced by touching it last night. And just as I had many times in the past, I began to flog the old dolphin as it shrank. It felt incredible, and I was grunting like a cave-man. At first.

Before long, my vocalizations took on a female porn-star quality. It appears that my voice and my male package vanished at the same time in the process. I felt my pelvis rearranging itself, and my midsection began to elevate as my female ass filled in.

I was rubbing my hands over my nipples now, and I could feel them perking up and getting bigger beneath my palms. This was the part I was really excited about. Whereas last night I was screaming, “No God, pleeeeassssse No, not breasts!” tonight I was giddy. “Yessss! Yes! It feels sooooo good!” I declared. The tiny lumps blossomed quickly, it was amazing to watch, and even better to feel. Cupping them in my hands, I felt the soft flesh expand and spill through the gaps in my dainty fingers.

Chestnut brown locks tickled me about the neck and shoulders, and I knew what came next.

Sweet release left me squirming, and produced a wet spot in my bedsheets. It was sheer bliss, the transformation was even better than last nights. Staring at the full moon, now fully risen outside my window, I figured being bathed in it's light must have produced that effect. Maybe the book could confirm that.

But I had company coming over, and I smelled like sex. I had to clean up first, and get dressed. Showering as a female took far longer than as a male, but it was definitely time well spent. I enjoyed it thoroughly, and took advantage of my new body's sensitivity to the wand massager shower-head. Looks like I killed two birds with one stone!

I dressed in the smallest t-shirt and sweat-pants I had afterwards. The material from the shirt irritated my nipples slightly. A thought popped into my head, a bra might prevent that, plus if I strap them down they will jiggle less and look better.

'Where the hell did that thought come from?' I wondered. I was taking this whole scenario far better than I probably should be. Still it wouldn't be long before Heather was due over, and with that in mind I took a seat in my living room.

The knock came 5 minutes later, and took me by surprise even though I knew it was coming. Looking through the peephole, I saw Heather standing in the hall. She wore a red and blue floral print sun dress, a wide derby hat, and a pair of over sized sunglasses, and she looked exactly as I remembered her. Exactly how I pictured her in my dreams. She looked hot.

I opened the door still somewhat embarrassed. I was absolutely swimming in my over sized, made for my male self sweatpants and t-shirt. I was in my own living room, and way under-dressed for the occasion. Ironic.

Heather entered with a smile and a hug. “Look at you my dear, welcome to the sisterhood. You must be positively bursting with questions!” she said. And she was right. “I'm glad to see you aren't angry with me, but I had a special feeling about you.” she continued, raising her delicate brow. “I would have arrived earlier, but the transformation can be a very...how can I put this... personal time for a new sister.” She winked.

I wasn't sure how to take that, but I had a pretty good idea what she meant. My voice stank of nervousness, “Thank you, and yes I have many questions for you. To start with, why did you do this to me?” I asked, holding back tears. I hadn't yet fully adjusted to my feminine emotions, and just seeing Heather seemed to place me on an emotional tilt-o-whirl.

As if sensing my fragile state, Heather made the 'big move' from her chair opposite me over to the love seat. She sat down beside me and took my hand, a welcome gesture of support. “How far did you read into the handbook last night?” she asked

The tears came now, there was no holding it back. I felt like I had so much to tell her, so I began to speak. “I only made it to chapter 3, the beginning of it. I was so tired last night, and I didn't have time to read it today, even though I really wanted to, but it was such a busy day, and I couldn't focus on anything, and...”

“Hush my child, give me a hug.” Heather interjected. I was babbling, and probably not making a heck of a lot of sense. “That's good enough for now. Like I said in my note, I was elated to see you reading it last night.” Her words were soothing, and as we hugged my tears seemed to magically dry up.

“So,” Heather continued, “ you didn't get to the really cool stuff yet?”

“I thought that reading people's auras was way cool. I tried it at the office today.” I protested.

“Oh honey, that's only the tip of the iceberg!” Heather said excitedly. “Check this out!” Heather tensed her face for a split second, and then let out a wicked, “Hissssss!” as she opened her mouth revealing two sharp, vampire-like fangs. Then a second later, they shrank down into normal, everyday human canines.

“Whoa!” I was shocked, Heather giggled in response to my reaction. “What the hell were those?”

“A deterrent against aggressors, something to show if you're ever backed into a corner. And also a way to pass the curse, albeit a painful method. Combine that with our unusual strength, and it's quite an effective self defense system.” Heather remarked.

“Unusual strength?” I inquired.

“Yes my child, all werewomen possess the strength of a full grown male body builder in our female form.” Heather smiled with pride as she spoke, “I can lift more right now than I ever could in my man-skin.” She pantomimed a Venice beach meat head posing in a variety of weightlifter poses. It was hard to tell by the rail thin girl arms she was flexing at me, but I guessed she was telling the truth. I wasn't about to ask her for a demonstration in my own home. That's how stuff gets broke.

I was awed by her revelations, but like a skillful politician she had evaded my original question. “All of that is wonderful, but that still doesn't explain why...why me?” I said trying to get us back on topic.

“Well....” Heather paused “You read the bit about the Aura's?”

I nodded...we'd been over this.

“At the bar that night last month, I'd had a few too many. I was sitting with a sister of mine...ours” she corrected herself and I blushed a little. “And I read your aura.” There was a longer pause. “Aaron, your aura was pink.”

 

Part 5

 

“How can that be?” I asked, fearing her answer would match the one in the book. I remember reading something about opposite readings. I thought about Jerry at the office today. Then a sudden flash of recall. The tiny courtroom stenographer in my mind read back last night's transcript, 'These readings usually came from folks that identified as trans-gendered.'

Heather shifted uncomfortably in her seat next to me. She composed herself for a second before speaking. “You know the answer, you read the aura section Erin.” Her use of the girls pronunciation for my name struck my ear like an 18 pound sledgehammer.

“But...I'm not...” I was blushing a bit now, our conversation was heading in the direction of interrogation.

“Listen it's OK, you don't have to lie or hide that from me.” she interrupted. “Our stories aren't that different. Let me tell you something about yourself, stop me the moment anything I say doesn't sound familiar.”

I agreed with a subtle affirmative nod..

“You've admired women's beauty all your life, and are well aware of it's powers.” stated Heather in a matter of fact voice.

I didn't object.

“You've never felt comfortable in your own skin, and you couldn't seem to put your finger on why.” she went on.

Silence from me.

Heather continued “You've felt disconnected from other men your whole life, faking your way through male bonding experiences. And quite well too I might add.”

Again, I had nothing.

“And all your life you've been terrified that someone might pick up on the fact that there is something different about you.”

If I had a lawyer, he or she might have objected at this point. But I couldn't.

Heather was right on the money. I didn't keep a diary, but if I had I'd accuse her of reading it. I found myself nodding 'yes' like a broken witness on the stand in some television courtroom drama. 'The prosecution rests,' I thought as Heather fell silent.

I pulled myself together wiping a lone tear out of my eye. “How could you know all of that?” I asked in a squeaky, strained soprano still new to my ears.

Heather broke eye contact and averted her gaze to the corner of the room. “When I saw you at the bar that night, I saw a sadness in your eyes. You and your friends kept looking over at my sister and I, but you looked at me differently than they did.” Her voice had a far-off quality to it. “Where your friends just wanted to be with me, you wanted to be with me and to be me.” Heather's voice trailed off.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then Heather started once more, “Once my sister and I recognized that quality in you, it was my...duty.” Her head went down in shame.

“Your duty!” I said angrily. “What duty?” I asked frustrated beyond logical expression.

Heather was looking in my direction once more, and clearly agitated by my outburst. The interrogation ended in confession, but not in the usual way. “Before you get all upset let me ask you a couple more questions,” Heather half pleaded. “When you changed last night, how did you feel when you gazed upon the body you desired for so long? Did you feel the calm?” Heather asked.

Dammit she was right again. I acknowledged by bobbing my head in agreement.

“Did you absolutely love the way your body moved? The way you looked and felt? Was it as though all the wrong in your life had suddenly been made right?” Heather was on a roll again. "And did you look forward to the change when it came this evening?"

Like a bobble-head doll I kept nodding yes.

“Tell me, this morning when you went back to being a man, did you miss your breasts, your curves?” Heather gestured to her own considerable assets as she asked.

“OK, OK...All of that is true, now explain this bit about it being your duty.” I asked, waving an accusatory finger at Heather. For the first time in our meeting tonight I felt like I was holding some of the cards.

“Look I didn't particularly enjoy it, but our pack had to expand. We only recruit people who will take to their new condition well, and...oh God...it was my turn to initiate a new member.” Heather looked embarrassed. Elbows on knees, red face buried in her delicate hands.

“Your turn? Your pack?!” I was flabbergasted. “And what do you mean you didn't enjoy it?...could have fooled me!” I was insulted.

“Look don't flatter yourself. You look far better to me now than you did last month. I'm a committed lesbian.. But when your turn comes up, you do what you must for the good of the pack.” Heather's tone was defensive. “Some look forward to the task, plenty of werewomen out there can't keep their hands off men. They just have to use protection and avoid swapping too much spit with their lovers.” Heather's voice grew softer. “But for me...perhaps if I hadn't drank so much...”

“Great so now I'm a member of a pack? A pack of werewomen?” I was enraged and visibly so. “All because you were drunk and had an eye for me?”

“Oh wow this isn't going well.” Heather commented. "It's not like that..."

“Well I'm sorry I'm not making this easy on you.” I sneered.

Heather looked hurt. “Trust me I know this can be a lot to swallow, but someday soon you'll thank me.” Heather said in a parental tone. “As far as the pack goes, you will meet them all tomorrow evening.”

“I don't think so! Tomorrow is Saturday night and I'm going...” I didn't get to finish.

“TO TURN INTO A WOMAN!” Heather shouted, completing my sentence as she rose from her seat. Her frustration was clear. “There are three nights of the full moon per month, and like it or not you'll be transforming on all of them.” She was pacing in front of me now. “And who knows? With breasts that large, probably a couple times in between full moons too.”

“What?” I inquired in a defensive manner.

“Look it up, it's all in the book. I'm leaving now, but if I were you I'd finish reading it by tomorrow. I'll be here at the same time as tonight to pick you up. That's when your training truly begins.” Heather fumbled with her over-sized purse. “Wear this.” she said stoically handing me a small floral print sun dress.

Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving me speechless and holding a dress. What had I just done?

 

Part 6

 

I cried myself to sleep that night after Heather left. I felt horrible for lashing out, but I was still upset with her for turning me into this.

I awoke the next day at mid-morning, fully male with no trace of my female self. I was starving, and my first thoughts were of breakfast. I was eating cereal when I noticed the sun dress slung over the chair near the door. It was right where I set it last night after Heather took off. Well, to be technical, it was not 'I' who had set the garment down there, it was 'her,' that strange woman I turned into. I couldn't help but think of 'her' as a different person entirely.

I picked up the dress as I headed towards my bedroom. I didn't want any visitors I might have to see it laying about. I had planned on tossing it in a heap inside the closet hamper, but something stopped me.

The feel of the fabric on my hand was delightful, and I began to wonder how the material would grab other, more sensitive areas of my body. Then I caught a glimpse of me holding the dress in the mirror mounted on my closet door. It looked amazing and I couldn't resist holding it up to my shoulders to see how it fit. I'd seen women do it this way while dress shopping. If the reflection cast back at me was any indication, my dress was way too small for this male frame. Did I just refer to this thing as 'my dress?'

I blushed as I saw my preening reflection in the mirror, and renewed my resolve to get this dress out of sight. But rather than toss it into my hamper, I hung it carefully. 'Why ruin a perfectly good dress, especially if I might need it later?' I couldn't believe I just had that thought, even having been through the last 2 nights. Speaking with Heather and reading that book had really done a number on my head.

Right, the book. It was sitting on my nightstand waiting to be read some more, but I'd had enough. Without giving it much thought, I pitched it into the dark corner of my closet. The door now shut tight, my dress and that awful book were hidden from view. You know what they say, 'Out of sight is out of mind.'

As I showered and prepared to face the day, I made a decision. All this werewoman nonsense was in my head. Sure, maybe I'd imagined myself turning into a woman the last two nights, maybe I had a new imaginary friend named Heather, but it was physically impossible for a man to change into a woman without years of surgery and medications. Even though the experience had been incredibly realistic, it simply had to be an illusion or a dream. So no matter what Heather said last night, nothing unusual was going to happen tome that evening. I decided then and there to live my life as though this were the case, and to plan my day accordingly.

My attitude adjustment and out of sight out of mind strategy was succeeding As I washed up and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, I felt like myself again for the first time in days. The only thing on my mind was, what to do with my day off? See, for me Saturday's were akin to a personal religious ritual. It was the one day of the week that I could relax and do whatever I wanted to do. Today, I rather felt like a trip to the mall for some video games and music shopping.

The Game Stop store at my local mall was a 'dude's paradise.' Because I made a decent living, I allowed myself to purchase a game or two a month so I was here often. I knew what I was going to buy before I went in, but I spent hours looking anyway. I left with the latest edition of 'Gears of War' and plans to buy the new FIFA 2010 when it goes on sale.

As I said before, the video game store is dude central. Sausage city. A village with no women. The place positively repelled them. The music store, on the other hand, was a more balanced environment. I noticed half the patrons were women, and a few were rather good looking. I discretely checked them out while I browsed the new releases.

A hot 'blonde' wearing tight designer jeans and a flattering top was checking out Lady Gaga's latest. Her breasts were rather large, and she was sporting deep cleavage rather shamelessly. I liked that. I stole a glance at her backyard when she reached down to pick up something that fell out of her purse. It was perfection, filling out every nanometer of her skin tight jeans. I felt the strong feelings of attraction towards this beautiful stranger, yet in the back of my mind a tiny, high pitched, squeaky voice was ranting. I couldn't help but tune it in and listen...

“First of all, I'd look WAYYY better in those clothes than her. Plus that hair! Who does she think she's fooling? Blonde?! Hah! Her roots are so grown in, it looks like a tiger's stripe! Her purse is totally (I imagined myself fake-gagging) with those shoes. How bout those grande titone's on her chest? They probably sag like crazy when that industrial strength, concrete reinforced bra isn't supporting them. And another thing...I cut myself off.

Where the hell did that come from? I seemed to be attracted to and jealous of that girl all at once. It was a strange feeling, but I was abruptly snapped back into reality. The pretty faux blonde was staring me down. I'd been leering at her with one hand on my hip, a very catty posture, the entire time I was pondering my inner monologue.

“Can I help you?!” she said, clearly annoyed.

“Umm, no.” I nodded.

“Then why are you looking at me so weird?”” she half demanded.

“Uhh...Lady Gaga blows, get a clue.” I responded, turning and storming out of the store. I'm not a Lady Gaga hater, but it was the only thing I could think of to say that would leave her speechless and allow me to get away from that awkward confrontation. And it worked. She didn't say a word as I left the store.

I felt a little flush as I resumed my stroll through the mall. At first I chalked it up to embarrassment, but it didn't let up. I seemed to be especially aware of the multitude of women's clothing stores I passed on my way towards the movie theater, the tiny voice from before critiquing the window displays I passed. At the ticket counter, I purchased one admission for a movie. I didn't even know which show because I was on auto-pilot.

I had an hour to kill, and I sat down at the food court for a late afternoon lunch. The mall felt warm as I ate, and I began to glisten with sweat. Devouring my burger and fries, my mind wandered to people watching. I'd done my share of people watching in the past, but today it was totally different. Like yesterday afternoon in my office, tiny aura's surrounded the people that strolled into my field of vision. The women were draped by a faint pink light, some shining more brightly than others. The men who I saw were surrounded by shades of translucent blue light. Some shades of blue were deeper than others.

Where yesterday I had to focus to see a person's aura, this afternoon it seemed to be happening all by itself. My cell phone alarm derailed my train of thought, I had a show to catch. Even if I didn't know which one.

Handing the ticket to the taker, I was directed to theater 7. The title above the door read Couples Retreat. I'd gone to a bunch of movies by myself, but never a romantic comedy. I didn't even appreciate that genre, unless I had a date who was interested. Then I pretended to like this sort of movie. I took my seat in a mostly empty theater, this movie has been out for a while, and it's drawing power has clearly diminished.

I almost preferred this, there was a lot of space between myself and the few scattered teenage couples in attendance. I could just sit and enjoy a movie, just to take my mind off the events of the past couple nights. It was like being in my own living room, but the screen was way better and the chairs were less comfortable. I eased in and focused on the coming attractions clips while the feature started.

The first 30 minutes or so were actually very funny, I was playing close attention to the movie while the couples around me only paid attention to each other. But somewhere around that thirty minute mark, I felt my body temperature shoot upwards. Simultaneously, I began to tingle all over. Somehow I'd managed to lose track of time. By now it was dark outside and the moon was up. Just like Heather explained, it's fullness would force me to change into a woman. I was pouring sweat and extremely uncomfortable, the tension I'd felt the last two nights at moon-rise was returning and it filled me with dread. There was no time to run or hide, I would have to resist the pull of the moon. And quietly too, there were people around.

The physical changes started in my face, I could feel my features softening and rearranging themselves slightly. A tickle on my neck betrayed my growing hair. Shielded from the full moon by the building around me, the change would happen more slowly. I remembered that from reading the manual. But I would be forced to undergo my transformation none the less. It was underway. I grimaced silently and put my hands up to cover my changing face. Hair draped my neck and touched my shoulders. I could feel my face as though it were alive and squirming beneath my shrinking hands. No amount of concentration could slow the progression.

I didn't want this tonight, I'd spent all day trying to deny it would happen and now I was presented with incontrovertible evidence that this event was unavoidable. I began to fight the change the only way I could think to, by tensing every muscle in my body at once in a vain effort to hold my shape. But just like the first time I changed, my large frame melted away, my hard lines faded to soft curves. Hairiness was replaced with smooth silky skin, my body wracked by this maddening tingling sensation squirmed in place. I was positively swimming in the jeans, t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt I'd worn. My body was still shrinking, one part more rapidly than the others.. My mind demanded that my body stop this immediately, but to no avail.

I was aware of the emptiness in my crotch. The change was complete where it counted now. I could feel my pelvis tensing up and placed my smaller, dainty hands upon my hips. I was pressing inwards, trying to prevent their widening even as they defiantly exploded outwards. My buttocks were inflating beneath me too, and where once I was shrinking, getting smaller in my seat, I now seemed to be growing upwards. Soon, I was sitting atop a plump, soft, womanly bottom. At the same time, I could feel my narrowing shoulders and rib-cage cinch inward to form a tapered waist. My hourglass figure was in full effect. Well almost.

The fabric of my t-shirt was irritating to my enlarging nipples. They stiffened and engorged in response to the rough touch. The flesh beneath was beginning to soften too. I placed my hands upon my melting pec's and already felt the soft tissue plumping up around my nipples. In moments I had cones large enough to fill my feminine hands. My beautiful twin hanging fruits were ripening. Despite my fondest wish to see them vanish, they were getting bigger. I watched in horror as my mind raced, still desperate to reverse the tide. But it was no use. I felt the tingling feeling recede and I knew I was stuck like this until the morning.

I collected myself and glanced around the theater taking in my surroundings. The process had taken about 15 minutes to run it's course. I was quiet during that time so as not to draw attention, but totally self absorbed while I attempted to resist the change. All the dopey teenage couples were busily making out and didn't appear to have seen a thing. Finally, I catch a break! But I suppose I am lucky in another way. Had it not been for my large size as a man, my shirt would have ripped at the chest and my pants would have split at the hip. But as luck would have it, I completed my transformation clothing in-tact. I was female once again, and significantly smaller. Though my male clothes still covered my body, it was clear the rags didn't fit my frame.

I needed to get home, I couldn't walk around like this in public. Plus when the movie ended and the house lights went on, my fellow movie-goers would notice a girl wearing boy clothes sitting where a regular guy had once been.

Slowly I stood up from my seat, and as quietly as possible made my exit from the theater. The door shut behind me, with all the other shows in progress the halls were empty. I left the theater attached to the mall, and made a beeline for my car. No doubt Heather would be upset that I'd broken my date. She'll probably have a cow when I tell her about changing right there in the movie theater. It was a close call, but I got away with it. In fact, why even tell her at all?

Starting my car, I began to drive home, wondering whether or not Heather would await my return there.

(moments earlier in the theater)

“Holy shit Kev, did you see that?” asked 19 year old Kelly Huchins.

“Yeah that was freaking weird Kel.” answered 20 year old Kevin Jones. “I'd swear that weird guy by himself just changed into that hot chick.”

Kelly slapped him playfully as he finished his remark.

“Oh I mean, you're way hotter baby. C'mon gimme some sugar.” Kevin leaned in for a kiss, all the while thinking, 'Damn I'm smooth.'

 

Part 7

 

I found myself fighting back tears on the drive back to my place. Questions sprang to mind, 'Why me? Why should I have to put up with this curse?' but no answers came. Pulling into my lot, I saw an unfamiliar car in my reserved parking space. Could it be Heather?

My front door was unlocked, I knew she was behind it. She looked up at me as I entered the apartment, I must have been a sight to see in those over-sized boy clothes. I expected her to be angry with me, but she seemed more concerned. That's when the tears came.

I shut the door and locked it, then burying my face in my hands I spoke first. “Heather I'm sorry about what I said last night.”

“Don't worry, it's I who should apologize for doing this to you.” she said in a soothing tone. “Where were you when it happened tonight? Not driving I hope.”

I sniffled a little and nodded no.

“That's good, operating heavy machinery and undergoing our change don't mix.” she said half seriously and half joking. “As long as nobody saw you change, your secret is safe. Nobody saw you, did they?”

I nodded no again, my sobbing was under control now. “I'm sorry I didn't wait for you tonight.” I said at last.

“It's OK, we can still meet up with the pack. They'll be waiting for us at the usual spot, I told them we'd be late.” Heather explained. “It's always a cause for alarm when a thrall goes AWOL, but I knew you'd come around. You can run and hide from this new part of you all you want, but it won't do any good. You might as well get used to being one of us now, so go get dressed.”

Her instructions were firm but not bossy, and I instantly knew what she meant. I wobbled into my bedroom stripping out of my ill fitting clothes as I went. By the time I reached my closet, I was naked. The ends of my lips curled into a smile as I glimpsed my form in its feminine glory reflected in the mirror. It was the first time I smiled since leaving the Game Stop store.

Reaching into my closet, I pulled the sun-dress off it's hanger and held it against my shoulders. The last time I engaged in this exercise the garment looked ridiculous against my male form. This time around, it appeared to fit like a glove. The flares at the hip matched my own curvaceous bod. The bumps on my once flat chest lifted the material perfectly. I was excited to put it on.

As I slipped into the dress, I instantly became aware of how complex getting one of these things on can be. The zipper ran up my back, and was impossible to reach. I pulled the straps onto my shoulders, and attempted to work the zipper. I was reaching back to grab it at full extension, my body strangely contorted in the effort. That's when I noticed Heather standing behind me.

“Let me help dear.” she said. Gliding over she took the zipper from bottom to top. “There you go.”

Now fully zipped in, I became aware of the elastic band which seemed to be cupping my breasts. The dress was tight all over, but especially snug in the chest. It seemed to lift my bosom ever so slightly from the bottom while hugging my breasts tightly at the sides. The effect produced cleavage very similar to the woman in the music store earlier. This instant was like any other time I admired a pretty girls rack as I gazed down, but the tit meat was all me this time. “Damn...” I half whispered aloud.

Heather was giggling. “I know that's quite a rack of lamb honey. I may have skimped on the built in bra.” she hooked her thumbs under the chest opening of my dress, and tugged softly as I felt my breasts bounce a little. “Well it should be good enough support-wise, I just have to make it a little larger up top. I didn't expect they'd be quite so large!”

I blushed. I had always been a 'breast man' when admiring women's bodies. Now I could admire my own several nights a month.

“Now follow me into the bathroom girl, we gotta get Cinderella ready for the ball.” Heather gently commanded. I obeyed.

Once in the bathroom, Heather produced a small bag from her purse. Make-up, oh great.

“Oh no, no, not that I don't think so.” I protested waving an index finger in her direction.

“Look it's not much, just a little to bring out the pretty.” Heather countered.

I wasn't going to win this argument, so I caved in. Heather brushed on some foundation, and proceeded to add lipstick, eyeliner, blush and a spritz of perfume. It didn't take her long, she was clearly an expert, but as I watched Heather work it was with a growing sense of satisfaction. Whatever she was doing, whatever she was transforming me into, I liked it. Watching my reflection getting prettier and prettier by degree was quite a thrill, but when I saw the finished product I nearly fainted.

I was a knockout. Even before the impromptu make-over I was a beauty but now I looked positively modelesque. “Is that me?” I asked hesitantly. I didn't recognize my own reflection.

“Yes darling, that's all you. If I didn't know any better I'd say you're happy about the way you look right now.” Heather teased. I blushed again, still unable to force the smile from my face. “Now lets get going, you're ready to meet your sisters now.”

Strolling to Heathers waiting car, the night air against my bare shaved legs gave me somewhat of a rush. My posture, my gait, my appearance and my voice all identified me as a member of the female gender. Even a stranger at 100 paces would see, hear and possibly even smell girl. I couldn't help it, and I didn't really mind for the moment at least.

Conversation on the way to wherever we found ourselves going was thin. Of course Heather knew where we were going, I however had no idea. We passed through the central business district, Chinatown, the warehouse district, and at last the waterfront. We ended our drive clear across town from my humble abode. We parked Heather's car and walked a short distance to a seedy looking door, a nightclub on an otherwise empty street.

But however dead the street was, the club was lively. Heather and I sashayed past the doorman and into the lobby. The dance floor was packed with youthful gyrating bodies, 20 something males and females. My kind of place, except my perspective on the matter was considerably different now. Heather took my hand and led me through the crowd, vibrations from the bass working their way up my legs as we went.

As we passed the dancers, I could see some of them looking up.. Men eyed me up with lust, and though that was sort of revolting it also felt empowering. The girls I passed regarded me with envy or passive hostility. They held their male dance partners more closely as I passed them. They thought I was fishing fir a man, and being blessed with ample bait made me a formidable adversary to them. I glanced down at my bulging breasts pridefully. It was my first glimpse at the power a magnificent pair of knockers possessed. And they were mine! Strange as it may seem, it felt good to be a pretty girl at a nightclub.

On the other side of the club stood a lonely door with a sign overhead that read, 'VIP's only!' We went right in.

The room fell silent as the door swung shut behind us, an odd contrast to the noisy club behind it. Inside the room was adorned by plush looking furniture, tasteful (well for a nightclub) artwork and nick-nack's. Bottles of overpriced night-club champagne, glasses with mixed drinks all littered the small tables ringing the room. The overall effect was pretty cheesy, I'd never been in a VIP room before, and even now I didn't feel like a VIP.

Oh yeah. One other detail I left out regarding the VIP room: it was filled with beautiful women.

“Ladies, meet Erin, Erin, this is the pack.” Heather smiled as she gestured to the room full of women, or more accurately werewomen.

Glancing over a sea of faces, I could see some women smiling at me, others glaring indifferently, while a couple were clearly undressing me with their eyes. I was flattered, offended and a bit turned on all at once.

“We meet here on the last full moon night of each monthly set.” Heather explained. “It allows us to plan pack activities for the next moon set, share developments from the previous changing nights,support one another and keep each other company. Is everyone here?” Heather asked no one in particular.

“Everyone except the day-walker.” someone towards the back revealed.

“She's always late, we can start without her. Lets just go around the room and introduce ourselves one at a time.” Heather seemed to be in charge here.

Before anyone else could speak I blurted out, “Sort of like werewoman anonymous.”

“God, I get so sick of hearing those corny thrall jokes.” barked a raven haired woman immediately to my right. I hadn't expected that reaction.

“Easy Vanessa,” Heather warned, “not everybody has the advantage of being born a pure blooded werewoman.”

“Pure-blood?” I said with a quizzical inflection.

“Pure blood, as in my father was a werewoman and I was born a ticking time bomb. I grew up a normal red-blooded American boy, then one evening in my teens the full moon triggered my inherited werewoman gene out of dormancy.” She seemed defensive. “Great job Heather, your thrall doesn't know shit about her new condition. Didn't you give her the book?” said Vanessa. I was beginning to think I didn't like this woman...err werewoman...whatever she was.

“Relax, it's her first moon set and she hasn't finished reading the manual. I spoke to her last night and told her the important stuff she needed to know immediately. Still she's having some trouble adjusting.” Heather was defending me and criticizing me all at once..

“That's OK, we all do at first.” chimed the pixie-like blond seated in the corner of the room. “I remember after I was bitten I thought I was going insane. Even with Becky helping me through my first moons, I just couldn't accept what I was becoming.” she explained.

“Thanks Rita, that's exactly the case with Erin. She just needs some time to let this reality sink in.” Heather displayed the coolness and calm I'd come to expect from her once more. Vanessa seemed to shrink back into the crowd. “Tonight she learned that you can't run from your moons, they'll catch up to you no matter where you are.”

Things seemed to be calming down in here, and I was thankful for Rita immediately. Finally, a person who could relate to my experience with this curse. I felt relieved to know that someone out there had been through what I was going through now. I wanted to pull her aside and talk to her in private then and there, but she continued on her own.

“I guess for me the turning point came when I accepted that I was going to change whether I wanted to or not. Physically changing under the full moon was not a choice, it was a mandate from my body. Once I realized this, I saw there was a choice to make between fighting my new nature and being miserable or embracing the change and trying to have a little fun with it.” Rita's words had really struck a chord within me. "If I'm going to be a girl sometimes, I might as well enjoy it."

'F*&$ing A right Rita. Simple but beautifully put,' I thought to myself.

“Since that day,” Rita went on, “I've never let my condition make me miserable again. On that day I went from cursed to blessed and all it took was a little self examination."

I was running over her epiphany in my mind when I heard the thudding bass of club music fill the room once more. In through the open door behind me stepped a beautiful blond wearing skin tight jeans and a designer top.

“Sorry I'm late girls! I got caught up at the mall.” she said upon entering.

“Oh great, the day-walker is here at last.” said Vanessa sarcastically.

It was about that point that I put two and two together. This woman they all referred to as 'day-walker' was the same woman I had seen earlier in the music store. I knew her on sight, but did she recognize me?

 

Part 8

 

Did she recognize me? Well she walked right past me and took a seat without a word so I guess not. Now that the matter of her recognizing me was settled, I felt compelled to ask. In a shy, frail voice much higher than the one I was used to, I found myself saying, “You guys...what's a day-walker?”

“Oh for Pete's sake Heather, you said you covered the important stuff.” belted Vanessa. “And with melons like hers,” Vanessa stood and gestured to my ample breasts, “that should have been the first chapter you told her to read.”

“Vanessa that's quite enough.” Heather looked angry for the first time tonight. Composing herself she continued. “All in good time, it's a lot of information and it should be taken in small doses.”

“Says you.” said the one they called 'day-walker.' “Look she has a right to know, it's a distinct possibility that she might end up like me.”

“Like what? Or, who? Heather what are they talking about?” I asked fearfully.

“OK you asked for it. Try not to blow a gasket when I tell you though.” Heather said swallowing hard. “A Day-walker is a werewoman who can transform any time, day or night, and totally at will. They have control over their form to the point where even the full moon can't force them to change.”

“But...look, she's a...a girl.” I protested

“It's totally voluntary hun. Just wait and listen, she's getting to the good part.” said the still nameless 'day-walker.'

“It's like she said, the only reason she's female now is because she wants to be. Most day-walkers stay in female form year-round. Our Emily is no different.” At last, the 'day-walker' had a name. Emily.

"Once you discover a little more about being a woman, you'll quickly realize that it beats being a man hands down.” Heather was on a roll. “What separates us from the day-walkers is, they can change under the light of the sun. Even an experienced werewoman like myself, or Vanessa there can't pull that off.” Heather sounded sad.

“So how does one become a day-walker?” I inquired.

“It's complicated.” Heather admitted. Big surprise. “It's a combination of training and genetic potential. With a little practice, most werewoman can force a change during a night when the moon isn't full. Most of us simply don't want to, 3 nights is enough, sometimes more than enough. But for some reason, day-walkers gravitate towards spending more and more time as women. They'll force it more and more, until eventually the woman inside spills over into daylight hours.” Heather revealed looking somewhat red-faced.

“So like, they become addicted to femininity?” I asked sounding rather like a valley girl.

“Bingo..” Heather acknowledged my correctness. “Now like I said, for most werewomen this isn't possible. Believe me I've tried to live in one gender, as a woman, and I simply can't hold my form under the light of the sun. The only way I could do that is to get pregnant.”

“To get what-now?” I was scared.

“Pregnant dear, and yes before you ask it is a slim possibility.” I gulped as Heather went on. “If a werewoman gets pregnant, they stay female until the full moon following delivery. That's when their new curse begins, they become weremen.”

“Weremen? Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

“If you think it's a woman that becomes male on the nights of the full moon, than yes..” Heather answered. “And so the person continues to live between genders no matter what. Only now they have a child to care for, a child that will probably inherit the curse during adolescence.” Heather trailed off. “Only day-walkers like Emily here can live in a single gender.”

“And once you get to chose between male and female...well it's a no brainer you'll see.” said Emily.

“I will?” I asked somewhat defensively. “How come you're so sure?” I was pointing with my left hand, my right rested high on my girly hip. Noticing my posture I corrected myself and struck a more gender neutral pose.

“It's the tits darling. Remember what your weremommy Heather said about genetic potential? Well you've got it in spades kid.” Emily's words cut me like a knife. Scanning the room, I saw many b-cups, quite a few c-cups, and even a pair or two of small d-cups. But my maguppies were larger than all of theirs, a solid d or even a double. Though still somewhat smaller than Emily's pair, that was little comfort to me. “But don't worry, you have a long way to go before you can be like me.”

Emily's speech reminded me of something Heather said the night before, ““There are three nights of the full moon per month, and like it or not you'll be transforming on all of them. And who knows? With breasts that large, probably a couple times in between full moons too..” Heathers parting words had new significance now.

“So you're all in agreement, I could end up like her?” I asked.. Seeing her in the mall earlier today, totally immersed in her femininity I envisioned this to be my future. I was trembling at the thought.

“Yeah isn't it cool?” asked Emily light-heartedly.

I said nothing.

“While it's not inevitable, it is probable.” Heather said in a serious voice. “You may not become a day-walker, but only you can decide that.” she said. “And besides, the path of the day-walker is a gradual biological progression. If that's the road you travel, you'll walk down it at your own pace.”

“Now then...” Heather was shifting gears in the conversation. “If we're all done trying to scare the new girl, we can get back to introductions and have a good time.”

Right. A good time indeed. Just when I think adjusting to 3 nights as a woman will be tough I face the prospect of a permanent magical sex change. What would I do? Where would I live and work? With no credentials or identity for my female self, the prospect of becoming a day-walker scared me to death.

Heather M.C'ed the remaining introductions but I hardly heard a word. I was too busy thinking about this day walker business. At one point towards the end of the introductions, I found myself staring at Emily. She was fumbling through her purse, but then she looked up with a smile and wink. It was as though she knew something about me that not even I knew. She may indeed.

When the introductions ended, all twenty three women and I stood up and clinked glasses in a toast, “To the new sister of our pack.”

At that point some of the sisters left, the pack business having been completed. Others went out to join the dancing. Heather and I stayed put.

“Don't let Emily scare you, she's actually a really nice girl. And that whole day-walker thing, just don't worry. If it's meant to be it's meant to be.” Heather said.

“I'm not scared, it's just that I can't see myself living as a woman all the time.” I admitted.

“Than it probably won't happen hun. Just be aware that the longer a person lives with this condition, the more it changes them. You might not notice it for a while, it won't be overnight, but one day you'll look at this werewoman thing very differently than you do now.” Heather had a thoughtful expression. “So don't be surprised if what you want changes over time.”

I nodded in agreement. “Look I need a drink.” I stood up and walked out into the club. Heather didn't follow.

Sliding up to the bar, I ordered a Bud to the shock of the male bartender. He poured it though. While I was waiting for my glass to fill, I saw another woman enter my peripheral vision. It was Emily.

Before I could object, or get my beverage, she was pulling me out on the dance-floor. “Lets see that hot little body of your in motion!” she said excitedly.

I'd never been a good dancer, but I found my hips swaying to the bass beat while my arms moved about in time to the music around me. 'I'll be damned' I thought, 'dancing really is instinctual to women.' My expression must have read amazement as I moved my body like it never had before. I felt my hips popping as I swayed, my long hair dusting my neck gently, and my breasts bobbed with every motion I made. I could even feel the jiggle of my ass bouncing around with every step.

Emily smiled as she moved around me, contorting her body in a seductive dance of her own invention. We made eye contact, erupting into a fit of giggles periodically. As the only two werewomen on the dance floor, we had a private joke to share.

We danced for an hour, at one point colliding breast to breast. I'd never been hit in the breast before,and it hurt a bit in a strange sort of way. Emily laughed at my reaction to the new sensation. “Thralls are always so much fun to hang around. I wish I could remember the nuances of femininity but living it every day is great.”

“I'm glad you feel that way.” I said over the loud music. “I just don't know if I could manage it.” I saw Heather sitting alone at a table near the back. I thought she was keeping an eye on me, or maybe I just hoped she was.

We continued to cavort around the dance floor, and I relished the erotic sensations of being an object of desire. I didn't know whose desire, but that didn't matter. “I'm starting to get sweaty.” I said to my companion.

“Women don't sweat dear, we glow!” replied Emily cheerfully.. We continued dancing in close proximity, and at one point had what can only be described as a moment. Our eyes locked, and I leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. This music and our proximity was beginning to affect me. At the critical moment when our lips were about to meet, I backed off.

“Whats the matter? Too soon?”Emily shrugged as the music began to change. “I suppose I'll let you get used to womanhood before I try and make a lesbian out of you.” she winked. Just hearing the word lesbian roll off her tongue made me blush. I'd always appreciated movies where two women got together, now I could star in my own if I wanted. And I sort of did.

I could tell the DJ was mixing in a smaple of a new Lady Gaga club mix, and I rolled my eyes in response.

“Let's go have a seat, Erin.” Emily took my hand and led me towards an empty table. “Only a person who didn't have a clue would jam out to Lady Gaga.” she said locking eyes as we sat. “What, you thought I didn't recognize you from the music store earlier?”

I blushed, unsure how to answer.

 

Part 9

 

I didn't know how to answer her question. I found myself saying, “But, how? I looked totally different this afternoon.”

“When I saw you standing there, checking me out, I noticed your aura. I assumed you could read mine too, at first.” Emily said. “But then, after you said what you did and walked away, I knew better. You heard 'her' voice while you were looking at me, didn't you?” she leaned in close after asking.

“Yes, she was...I mean, I was critiquing your appearance. Your fashion choices, your hairstyle...” I admitted. “I heard it for the first time after looking at you, but it kept creeping into my brain as I walked past the department store window displays. It was even louder later on as I checked out other women.” I wondered what the significance of this was.

“That voice is your inner girl, you heard it tonight because your transformation was close at hand.” Emily said. “It's sort of an early warning of an impending change. And as the change draws nearer, the voice grows louder and more dominant. Once you begin to hear the voice, you've only got a couple of hours until it begins.” Emily was in professor mode. “It's just your inner-girl taking over, forcing 'her' way out. 'She' may even maker her presence felt in other ways as the change grows near, like making strange decisions or reading aura's without even meaning to.”

The more I thought about it, the more I related to what she was describing. I'd first heard the whisper of my female side in the record store, just a coupe of hours before I transformed in the theater. Even though I didn't see Emily's aura at the time, later on in the food court I was seeing them on everybody. And the voice did seem to grow louder all the while in between. When I purchased the ticket to see that crummy romantic comedy, it was as though my male side was on vacation.

“That's how we mentally prepare for a shift, kind of like our minds changing before our bodies.” Emily was making a lot of sense. “If you're like the rest of the pack, you'll only hear 'her' speaking around the full moons. It might happen a couple of other times, but in fairly predictable pattern.”

“Like the nights before and after the full moon nights?” I asked. I seemed to remember reading something about that in the book.

“Yes, some of the girls you met tonight gender-shift a total of five to seven nights each month. They don't have a choice in the matter, it just happens. Others only change for those magical 3 nights in the middle when the moon is at its fullest, like you did this month.” Emily confirmed. “That's how it starts with all of us who feel the pull of the moon, some just feel it more strongly than others.”

“And all that depends on how strong your female side grows?” I asked.

“Yes. And like Heather and I said earlier it's a combination of desire to be female and genetic potential.” Emily seemed to have a lot of answers. “After living as a werewoman for about a year, your sensitivity to the lunar cycle should be pretty well known to you. You'll know by then if you're a three nighter, or a full weeker, or whatever in between. Unless you're like me.”

“How did you become like you are?” I'll have to admit, I was dying to know.

“I was a regular guy with a great job, a young family and all of that. But I hid the fact that I was a cross-dresser from everyone.” Emily confessed. “I found myself getting deeper and deeper into the lifestyle, and I couldn't get enough. I sneaked around and planned some fake 'business trips' to dress up alone in a hotel, but that was it for a long time. One night, during one of my fake business trips, I felt I just had to go out.

I went to a TG friendly bar, and that's where it happened. I crossed paths with a young thrall like yourself. A newly turned werewoman with no idea what she was doing. All it took was one lapse in judgment, one infidelity and I ended up a werewoman.” Emily looked pouty.

“I felt as though I was hypnotized. One minute I'm having a ball at a crossdressers bar. Then I meet a genuine girl too beautiful to believe. Before I knew it, we were making love. I remember her riding me on the bed of a cheap motel room. It all felt so magical until these massive fangs slid out in front of her canine teeth, and she leaned down and bit me.” Emily gestured toward her shoulder.

“You can guess what happened to me a month later.” Emily said as she cleared her throat.

I was fascinated to hear about her past, but I had to know more specifics. “So when did you know you were different from other werewomen?” I asked

“That's a good question.” Emily thought for a moment before speaking. “About 6 months after I was bitten, I learned how to force myself to change at night without needing the full moon. I did it a few times for fun, and after a couple of months I started doing it more often.”

Emily looked slightly embarrassed but she continued. “Then it started happening on it's own.. I'd be leaving the office when the whispering started, by the time I got to my front door I was fighting back the shift with all I had. Once I was inside and the door was locked, it just sort of took over. Half the time I couldn't even get my suit off fast enough. Girl time started taking up all of my nights.”

For a second I thought she was finished speaking, then she began again. “It was kind of scary how fast it happened. Within two and a half years of becoming a werewoman, I could force a shift and hold it any time, day or night.” she revealed. “Although a shift could force itself on me at any time too.”

I broke eye contact with her for a moment and reflected on all the experiences I had that evening. As fascinated as I was with Emily, I felt like I was missing an opportunity to bond with Heather. The dread I experienced earlier today seemed to evaporate as soon as I met up with her. As the evening wore on, I found myself having a lot of fun because of her. Heather had helped me with my make-up, made my introduction as comfortable as possible, defended me when I needed a champion. She wasn't even angry that I was late for our meeting tonight. As my thought turned to all that she'd done for me, I found myself scanning the room looking for her.

“I think your weremommy went home, kid-o.” Emily said. “But don't worry, I'll get you where you need to go.”

I was upset by Heathers departure, but she'd left me in good hands. Still I couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong between Heather and I. How could she leave me here without saying goodbye? I was on the third and final night of my first set of changing moons, I was sure I wouldn't see her for a while. She was responsible for turning me, and she just splits! What nerve. The more I thought about it, the angrier it made me. Despite myself, I felt like a lover scorned.

“OK lets leave, it's getting late.” my voice sounded slightly annoyed.

We strolled out to her car, and as I entered the passenger seat, she asked, “My place or yours?”

“Where do you live?” I replied with a question.

“Not far.” she answered.

“Your place it is.” I said. It was just past two in the morning as we began our drive. It was a quiet ten minutes, but as we pulled into a condo community in the business district Emily spoke.

“Home sweet home.” she stated proudly

“Swanky!” I jested.. But in reality this place was really nice. Ultra modern design signaled it's new construction, in fact Emily mentioned that the complex was only 2 years old as we rode the elevator to her floor. We entered her condo, and I was astonished to see the stylish furniture and classy décor. This place was not only a primo location, but well appointed too.

“Back when I was living in a 'man's world' I managed to make a pile of money in the market.” Emily volunteered as if to she anticipated my question. “After I was turned, I quit my job at the brokerage house and went out on my own. I knew nobody at my office would understand or want to deal with what I was becoming. Still once you're trained to pick a winner in the market, it becomes second nature so I still do alright.” Emily was all smiles.

“It shows!” I said, marveling at the opulence around me. “Is this Italian leather on your sofa?” I asked enthusiastically.

“Yes, nice eye for detail.” said Emily

The living room also featured a fire place, above it was a framed picture of a family. “Yours?” I asked cautiously pointing.

“Yes and no. It's complicated.” Emily looked guarded. “At first, my wife was supportive when I started changing from 'Emile' (she pointed to the man in the photo) into 'Emily' (she pointed to herself). We became close girlfriends. She tried to understand it for a while, but when it really intensified and I started being Emily more and more, my baby decided she couldn't handle it. She left and took my two daughters. It was a bad time for me, but in the end surviving it allowed me to emerge as the happy woman you see today.” She smiled contentedly.

“Do you miss them?” I asked.

“Every day.” She replied. “We parted on good terms, and I support my children and ex-wife financially. I see her once in a while, but never the kids.” she sounded sad.

“Why is that?” 'Am I prying?' I thought for a split second. 'I hope not.'

“Not long after we separated, it became clear that 'Emile' was never going to resurface. So I faked his death and built an identity for Emily. I'm doing much better now but at the time I had a family to support and no job. So I killed off 'Emile' and my wife became 'his' widow. As such, she was entitled to a large sum of insurance money.” I was struck by her honesty. “Meeting my ex for lunch once or twice a month and hearing her talk about my little angels is as close to being a parent as I'll ever get again. Still maybe it's better that way.” Emily trailed off...

As I listened to her speak, I could feel Emily's pain in all the personal details she revealed to me. I'd never felt so empathetic towards another human being. Somehow I felt her suffering was mine. Perhaps it was another side effect of my present femininity, but one I was rather enjoying. There seemed to be no shortage of perks to the female condition, and tonight quite a few had revealed themselves. The compassion I felt for Emily's loss had somehow strengthened our bond and made us closer. But what to say?

“I understand why you did what you did, but I think your daughters deserve the truth. Maybe someday when the time is right....” I paused. Perhaps I'd overstepped my bounds, but I couldn't stop the honesty. “You obviously love them very much, and if you and your ex can be girlfriends after all that you went through, maybe there is a chance.” Damn my big mouth, Emily looked to be on the brink of tears.

“Thank you for listening. I didn't expect you to say that but I'm kind of glad that you did.” Emily wiped a lone tear from her eyes. “I've been thinking about them a lot recently. We've been apart for years now.”

“Better late than never.” I don't know why I default to chicle's at times.

“So tell me about yourself, Erin.” she asked smiling again now that the emotional moment had passed.

I told her about myself, where I grew up and went to school. My job and my hobbies, all the things that made me the person I am. It was going on three in the morning, but I felt energetic as I revealed personal details about my life to my new companion. It felt a strong connection to her, and even though I couldn't explain why, it was as though we'd know each other for years.

We talked late into the night about a range of subjects until at last we ended up in the bedroom.

Face to face on the King sized bed in her master bedroom, for the first time since the dance floor we were close enough so that I could feel her warm breath on my skin. We kissed tenderly, hugging one another close. I felt a growing warmth emanating from my midsection and within moments the symptoms of feminine arousal began to manifest. My nipples stiffened, visible through my dress and built in bra, I felt weak in the knees. I relished the sensation of my labia swelling as my inner walls began to lubricate themselves. I could feel Emily's hand rubbing on my inner thigh in small circles, getting closer and closer to my magic box.

Suddenly I could feel a tugging sensation on the bottom of my dress. In an instant the material encased my face, Emily was stripping it off of me. I wasn't wearing a bra or panties, and I found myself naked before the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I wanted her clothes off too.

As if she were a mind reader, she tossed off her shirt and fumbled with the strap in the back of her bra. My earlier claim that her knockers would sag to the floor without a bra to support them proved patently false. They defied gravity without having the appearance of being silicone-enhanced. They were similar in a lot of respects to my own pair, just ever so slightly larger. Magnificent.

We resumed our face to face position on the bed, fondling each others mammeries as we kissed passionately I could feel the intense hardness of my large feminine nipples contrast with Emily's soft cupid bow lips as she took the tiny pink length in her mouth. Gently sucking upon my chest produced a sensation throughout my body that felt like an electric shock. It was as though a new connection had been established between my nipples and the smooth flat womanly crease between my legs.

Emily grinded her womanhood against my body, her sense of urgency apparent. I could feel the heat emanating from deep within her as she pressed her delicate flesh into my leg.. I kissed her marvelous breasts, and planted a trail of kiss-lets down her body until I reached her midsection. Teasing her for a while, I could feel her squirm beneath me. At last I dove into her hairless lotus patch head first. Swirling my tongue in a circle, I could hear my lover moan in ecstasy between breathy encouragement.

“Oh my God that feels good...Yes right there...You're so f*%#ing GOOD at this!” Emily was boosting my ego big time. Several intense minutes passed. More pillow talk, though increasingly incoherent, poured out of my mate. “You don't... even know.....I...Ahhh...Don't stop, don't you ever stop!” Emily squirmed wildly beneath my grasp, orgasm washing over her like a tsunami wave.

I guess I hadn't lost my touch!

Soon it was her turn to reciprocate.. She was no slouch either. As her tongue flickered across the surface of my tender folds of female skin, I panted and bucked my hips wildly. Pangs of passion fired off in various parts all over my body. Emily sped up her pace, and I could feel a powerful force building withing the walls of my new girly organ. The pleasure increased to the point of being unbearable, and seemed to explode all over my body at once.

I was moaning and convulsing as muscles from my stomach to my finger-tips contracted in pleasure. And unlike the pumping, diminishing feeling of the brief male orgasms I'd come to know, I felt a gentle clenching and un-clenching in my loins and throughout my whole being. The pleasurable sensation lasted much longer and felt truly amazing in comparison. Waves of pleasure coursed all over my shaking body.

But Emily didn't let up. “Ready for another? Oh yeah, you are.” she said briefly. Then she buried her head in my lap once more and the awesome feeling continued unabated. I was on the brink of cumming for the second time in quick succession when I passed out. My body couldn't handle the pleasure Emily was inflicting upon it. But as I drifted off to sleep I couldn't help be pleased with the latest and greatest perk of my new condition. Better, and more frequent orgasms.

As I slept I dreamed of my male self. It was a strange dream, one in which I watched myself from outside my own body. It was as though someone was showing me a film of my life.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I watched myself walking into one of my favorite bars to meet up with some friends from work. I observed in the third person as I took my seat amongst them. We began to drain some beers and chat about the office and sports. It didn't escape my attention that I looked sort of bored and deflated. That's when I noticed my eyes kept wandering off of the conversation and onto to a woman at a table near the back. It was Heather.

It instantly dawned on my dreaming self that this was a replay of the night I'd met her, a night I remembered none too well. I saw myself stand up from my table as though hypnotized and move in the direction of Heathers table. Seated across from her was a woman I now recognized as Vanessa, the grouchy pack sister I met earlier. Vanessa stood and offered me her seat as I approached, saying, “Hold on tight now, Skippy.”

What a jerk.

I continued dreaming, and watched myself take Vanessa's seat across from Heather. I was clearly entranced by her. “How's it going?” I said in my pleasing baritone. “Do you come here often?”

“I don't want to talk to you,” said Heather in a direct uncompromising tone. “Let me speak to the girl within.” Her eyes locked with mine.

“This is she.”I could hear myself say in a voice a pitch or two higher than normal. I looked possessed.

“Tell me sister, how is your boy treating you?” Heather asked

“Not well.” I sounded sad as I answered. “He doesn't acknowledge my existence.” I continued in my strange hypo-voice. “He refuses to accept that I'm a part of him, and every time I try to emerge he immerses himself in macho activities or work.” Who was saying this? I don't ever remember having this conversation but here it was playing out in front of me.

“It's alright sister, I can help you.” Heather reached across the table and stroked my bare fore-arm. I was wearing short sleeves that night. “Do you know what I am?” she asked.

I watched the phantom of past-me nod yes before speaking. “You're a werewoman.”

“Do you know what I can do for you?” Heather and I were holding hands as she asked.

“You can set me free. You can make me whole.” Whatever force was speaking for me continued. “You can change me.”

“Is this what you want?” Heather sounded serious.

“Yes, more than I've ever wanted anything before.” It was like I was under her spell.

I was horrified as I watched myself being victimized. I started screaming at myself, “Don't do it! You don't know what you're getting into!” but it was no use. I felt like Ebeneezer Scrooge during his ghostly visitations in Charles Dickie's, A Christmas Carol . I was standing right there in the moment but I couldn't affect the outcome. I was a spirit in this dream, one who could not be heard, seen or felt.

Heather led me by the hand out the door and past my stunned co-workers. Their fellow worker bee was leaving with the hottest girl in the bar. I walked out behind 'myself,' on the way catching a glimpse of Vanessa kicking game to the female bartender on duty. As much as I wanted to see how that went, I was not here to be a ghostly voyeur. I had to see how this ended.

I followed myself home, planting my spectral rump in the back seat of Heathers car as she drove. When we reached my house, I watched my phantom self and Heather go into the bedroom together. I entered behind them.

After some kissing and feeling each other up, Heather began to strip. I followed suit. Soon we were naked before one another, rolling on the bed in a tight embrace. The moment of penetration approached, and Heather began to speak.

“What am I?” she demanded in a dominatrix tone.

“A werewoman” I answered obediently as Heather climbed on top. She was now straddling my washboard stomach.

“What do you want to be?” Heather pinned my arms down to the bed and hovered her opening just out of my erect members reach.

“I want to be like you.” I said half-heartedly.

“Say it like you mean it!” Heather demanded, getting in my face as she shouted.

“I want to be a werewoman, I want to change and be free like you.” I said with surprising conviction.

This seemed to satisfy Heather, and she smiled wickedly.. I watched from behind as she bent her knees, easing my shaft inside her.. As her pink lips slowly slithered over my manhood, I saw myself gasp. Heather continued to smile a knowing smile as she rose and fell, gently riding me to a girly doom.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I sat in the corner of my room, watching my former self consummate a curse it's giver had made me beg for. It seemed as though the entire time, I was under her spell, intoxicated by her charm, unable to resist. It was like watching a predator with it's prey. I was playing the role of the defenseless herbivore.

On top of it all, I suffered the rare indignity of actually seeing my own 'O-face.' As Heather cavorted on top of me, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I twitched ever so slightly. My face was contorted as though I'd had a stroke and simultaneously suffered a grand mall seizure. So that's what all the women in my love life saw staring back at them in the most intimate of moments. Creepy.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tears were streaming down my face as I awoke with a startling wail. Emily was laying next to me and sprang up when I shouted.

“What is it dear?” Emily begged.

“A dream, about Heather and I last month. Oh God Emily... I feel sick!” A wave of dizziness overcame me and I began to drip sweat.

“It's alright Erin, the sun is rising and your beginning to revert back to your boy self.” Emily sounded calm.

“What, no...I...” Quickly standing up, I felt a full on wave of panic. “Don't look at me!” I shouted as my body began to tingle all over. As much as I didn't want to change the previous evening in the movie theater, that's only a fraction of how much I didn't want to change back now. Emily looked concerned.

“It's OK, just try and relax. We usually sleep through this part. It's only natural that your girl side is reluctant to relinquish control, chances are she won't reemerge until next month.” Emily guided my trembling body to a laying position as the tingling I felt reached crescendo.

As I convulsed on the bed, Emily pulled me up into her lap. My breasts bounced as I shook, but less and less as they began to shrink and whither away. Soon they were completely flat and my nipples seemed to deflate as immediately afterwards. I was grunting in a deepening voice as my hips crunched together to form a slim male profile. I could feel my plump feminine rear melting away and hardening as my rib cage expanded. My shoulders ballooned outwards, forcing Emily to widen her grasp to accommodate them. My clitoris stiffened and seemed to grow as my labia fused together. I could feel my ovaries inside my abdomen sliding their way towards the pouch of loose skin formed by the fusing of my outer lips. Soon the familiar male configuration was back for another term as 'mayor of groin-town.' My frame grew to its normal size and any evidence of my femininity vanished without a trace.

I was crying, my head buried in Emily's lap. It wasn't the least bit painful, I just didn't want to go back yet. Even though she'd seen me as a boy in the music store, I felt ashamed of my maleness in front of Emily right now.

In an attempt to comfort me, she said, “Hush now it's alright. Erin will be back soon. Your special time of the month will be back before you know it.” She was running her fingers through my short boy hair which was both soothing and embarrassing at once.

'Next month' I thought to myself. 'What an awfully long time to wait..'

 

Part 10

Emily fed me a large breakfast and drove me home a little later that morning. On the ride back, as I drifted into and out of dreamland, Emily explained why I would feel tired for the next day or two. It's something all werewomen experienced. The strain of transforming so rapidly and dramatically finally catches up with a person on the morning after their last forced shift. Today was my hangover from a weekend of femininity. It would be the first of many to come.

I was so spent, she had to help me down the hall to my door. I was like a rag-doll, but luckily she was plenty strong for both of us. I remembered Heather's comments about having the strength of a male body builder. If she wanted, Emily could probably throw me down my hallway. When we got to my door, Emily assisted me with the key and then kissed me on the fore-head before saying goodbye. She left her number in my pocket, I'd written down mine for her as well. Once inside my castle, I dragged ass to the couch and plopped down, exhausted despite my racing mind.

As a day-walker living full time as a woman, Emily didn't experience these exhausting after effects because her body was no longer forced to endure the metamorphosis. Lucky her, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

It was the middle of the afternoon when I woke up again, I still felt tired but incredibly hungry too. I raided my fridge and pantry, pigging out on junk food until I was topped off. After I was done feasting, I flipped on the afternoons football game but only half paid attention. Somehow, memorizing every detail of the game to regurgitate in conversation later in the week seemed less important to me than ever. Soon I was asleep again, and before I knew it my Monday morning alarm was ringing.

Work was a drag, I still felt drained from the weekend. My mind kept returning to that strange dream about Heather and I. Something didn't seem right about it. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being manipulated but I hated to think of Heather in such suspicious terms. I was used to feeling conflicted by now, so I just forged on ahead with my work.

I was half asleep at the desk in my office when a new instant message alert chimed in through my PC speakers. Snapping to attention, it appeared Heather was contacting me.
___________________________________________________________________________________

From-sisterHeather: How is my favorite thrall feeling today?

To- sisterHeather: Drained. Spent. Where did you go Saturday night?

From-sisterHeather: On Saturday I had other business to attend to. Besides Emily and you didn't seem to notice.

To- sisterHeather: You could have said goodbye :(

From-sisterHeather: I'll make it up to you next month.

To-sisterHeather: I had a dream about you and I...the night we met.

From-sisterHeather: O really? Was it good?

To-sisterHeather: Heather, what did you do to me that night? I looked like I was hypnotized.

From-sister Heather: In a way yes. Let's just say you were unable to lie.

To-sisterHeather: It wasn't me you were talking to, it was Erin. You channeled her somehow and she took over. Whoever asked you to do this, it wasn't me speaking!

From-sisterHeather: You're still thinking about Erin as a separate person...

To-sisterHeather: She is!

From-sisterHeather: ...and that is why you fail.

sisterHeather has disconnected
User logged out

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I fail? Who did she think she was, master tap-dancing Yoda?! I was fuming mad.

As the days ticked past on my calendar, I found myself somewhat withdrawn socially. I'd taken a big step back from everybody I was close to, everyone except Emily. As the days turned into weeks, I spent many an hour sitting on her Italian leather sofa confiding in her like she was a close relative. I told her everything I was feeling, including the details of my dream about Heather.

Emily didn't know what to make about the dream, and she seemed to change the topic whenever it came up. The one thing she said that stuck with me was that our dreams can sometimes reveal subconscious desires otherwise hidden from our waking self. It sounded like Sigmund Freud psychobabble, but Emily had no shortage of deep and thoughtful insights to offer.

Never in my life had I engaged in such emotionally enriching banter. It was a departure from my old self that I noticed happening in real time, but didn't struggle against. It was liberating to talk about my feelings with a kindred spirit.

But as the weeks rolled by, there were other subtle differences in my demeanor. Once or twice, I found my bodies posture changing from regular masculine to very feminine. I kept correcting myself when I noticed it happening and wondered how many times I had done it without taking notice. The swing of an elbow while walking, the hand on a hip while speaking, I even noticed myself crossing my legs in the typically female way on a few occasions. This is one change that I am not comfortable with..

Of course I told Emily, and she regarded it as perfectly natural.. To her it was my girl side stepping in to assist my male self, integrating into my personality. According to her, all werewomen go through the process of balancing. My inner-female bleeding over into my male life would make shifting genders less jarring. According to Emily and the handbook, the transformation event itself would become less dramatic as this process advanced. Soon it would feel as natural as breathing. I still had my lingering doubts, but it was encouraging to hear that I was 'normal,' at least by werewoman standards.

In addition, during my male weeks there were several nights that I simply flaked out on plans to hang with my work friends. Instead of drinking and carousing, I sat at home alone and read the manual. I was just about finished with it now. In a way I missed the good times I could have been having with the guys, but I seemed to relate to them less and less since my run in with Heather. All they seemed to do was talk about sports and argue politics. It always devolved into a booze fueled ball-busting session. A pissing contest. Whose team had better pitching? Which candidate was more likable? None of it mattered because none of us agreed on anything. We were a younger version of the 4 old putz's that sat around the barbershop and argued in Coming to America.

I flashed back in my mind to a scene from that movie. “Joe Louis always lied about his age. He was 117 years old when he fought Rocky Marciano.” It sounded like something one of us might say. My group was a reduced in stature to a caricature of 1980's comic relief. But it was a fact.

The only other skill we possessed was collectively evaluating hot women in our vicinity. Ladies who they could not summon the courage to actually speak with. I never had a problem talking to women, it just came naturally. To me, watching my peers flounder their way through failed pick up attempts was the real entertainment.. But now, I found their lack of confidence disturbing instead of merely amusing. Didn't they know that was a serious turn-off?

I was sort of neutral to developments concerning my friends. I seemed to be losing and gaining so much at once, they were just disappearing in the shuffle.. There was no dramatic break, no 'F-you' moment between us, just a widening chasm with me on one side and them on the other.

But all of this was nothing compared to the most serious and alarming change. It happened about seven or eight days before I was scheduled to change into Erin again. I found myself at the mall, and before I could think my legs were moving in the direction of the Victoria's Secret store. No Game-Stop, no music store, I did not pass 'Go' or collect $200. I went straight into Victoria's Secret as though I belonged in there. I always liked to look at their catalog and window displays, but today I was drawn in.

A friendly young saleswoman in her late teens or early twenties approached me. “Hi My name is Kelly, can I help you?” she was chipper and cheerful.

Still unsure about my purpose in the store, struggled to find an answer. As my mind went blank in the face of her query, I found myself saying, “I'll need two body by Victoria braziers and a push up bra, all size 34-D. I'll also need a pair of No-line panties and two pairs of Intimisimi style panties, all in size four.” I guess a part of me knew exactly what it wanted, and even knew which sizes and style to ask for.

“You got it sir! Your girlfriend is a lucky woman to have you spoil her like this. Most men don't know the first thing about lingerie.” Kelly led me around the store handing me the garments I'd requested as we went. As the bra's and panties piled up in my hands, I fought the burning urge to hold them up against my body to check the style and fit. 'Later! Not here.' I found myself compromising with...myself. It was difficult to resist but somehow I managed.

As we approached the register, I handed my treasures back to the friendly sales associate so she could ring them up. Kelly was chipper as ever as she wrapped up my purchase 'gift style.' I didn't bother stopping her. Girlfriend, right. That's the ticket. Little did she know I'd be wearing this stuff in a few short nights, and it would fit like a glove.

The total was a bit higher than I'd expected. I knew women's underwear was expensive but wow. I only bought three days worth, and it set me back well over $100. Suddenly I missed buying packs of tighty whitey's and boxer briefs for $10. Being a woman sometimes was going to get expensive.

I hit a couple of other stores, and the same phenomenon repeated itself. I would stumble into the women's department, with no idea about what I was doing there. A female sales associate would approach me and ask what I needed and in which sizes. They were all very helpful, and upon hearing the sizes I requested all remarked about my 'lucky girlfriend.' Most of them commented on my purchases too, the lady at Anne Taylor even came onto me. She said something like, “I hope your lady knows how lucky she is to have a handsome man with good taste buying her pretty things. I know if I was her, I'd be very grateful.” She was holding me tightly by the arm as she spoke, making full on eye contact for each syllable. It looked like the 'irresistible to women' part of my condition was working now.

My arms filled up with bags as I wandered back to the entrance of the mall, winding my way past the Victoria's Secret store again. Cheerful Kelly was standing near the entrance with a co-worker, both were looking out towards the food-court as I passed them. Kelly smiled and waved to me as I passed, I returned the gesture even though I had to shuffle bags between my hands to pull it off. 'What a nice young lady' I thought to myself as I left the mall.

___________________________________________________________________________________

A young lass named Kelly Huchins watched the strange male customer from earlier pass by the store front once more. He'd been friendly in the store and all, but there was something about him she couldn't quite place. 'Better wave and smile, he's good business after-all' she rationalized.

He was waving back when the realization hit her. He was the man from the movie theater a couple weeks ago. She and her boyfriend had seen him there. But there was something else, something memorable about him that night. Kelly focused her mind on remembering what it was.

While he definitely walked in to the theater behind them, he appeared to be alone. Later on in the movie, she looked back again and saw his girlfriend getting up to leave, no sign of him what-so-ever. What's more, when his girlfriend left, she was wearing the same lame clothes that the strange man had worn into the show. Her boyfriend Kevin had said something about him too. What the devil was it?

Unbenounced to me, Kelly's mind was on the brink of making a connection that could blow the lid off of my werewoman secret. The lights were coming on within her mind, but then suddenly a tap on the shoulders stopped her in her tracks. It was her ironically named co-worker, Victoria.

“You want a pretzel or something?” Victoria asked. “I'm going on break for a few minutes.”

Kelly nodded no. Whatever she was just thinking about was important, but now the thought was gone. Victoria headed off into the food court and Kelly re-entered her store to assist a customer.

___________________________________________________________________________________

There have been so many little changes over the weeks, it's hard to talk about all of them. Emily was right about a lot of things, but especially correct about the time in between moons flying by. My next transformation was going to be soon, and I still hadn't heard from Heather. I was tempted to ask Emily if she knew where I could find Heather's male alter ego, but I didn't want to go stalker on her. I knew nothing about her male life, and there might be a good reason for that. So I focused on my work instead. Worst comes to worst, I'd see her at the pack meeting later in the week.

It (Later that day, at a random workspace in Aaron's office)

It was getting near the end of the day that Monday, and Jerry sat anxious in his cubicle. It wasn't because the other males in the office treated him like an outcast. Being a crossdresser as far back as he could remember, he'd gotten used to being left out of 'guy talk.' Not that it bothered him. Jerry didn't even mind the fact that the women at the office, who he got along with so well during the day, weren't calling to hang out after work. It did bother Jerry that as a crossdresser in a place where it was none too common, he thought he was desperately alone in what he did. So he hid his feminine alter ego from everyone he knew as 'Jerry.' He'd met friends on line and done a couple conventions in places like Las Vegas and San Fransisco, but in daily life he had nobody who was capable of understanding his feminine side. But all of that changed in an instant the other night at the mall. The day would soon be over, and Jerry had done little other than replay the scene from last Friday evening in his mind.
 
*          *          *
 
Jerry recalled standing in between the food court and the Victoria's Secret shop in the mall. He'd come here to shop this evening, dressed as his female self, Jenny. This was something he'd done many times before. But this time something seemed off, call it woman's intuition. As Jenny relished the sound of her high heals clicking off the tile floor, she suddenly saw a site that made her freeze in her tracks. A man she recognized as her macho, arrogant boss, Aaron had just walked right past. The sudden shock brought Jerry's panicky persona back to the fore...

He thought to himself, 'Will he recognize me? Am I passing? How will he react if he sees me like this? Is my make-up good? What about my wig?' All of these thoughts processed in the instant it took Aaron to stroll past without a word or any acknowledgement. A feeling of relief washed over Jerry. Jenny had passed in front of a man her male alter ego saw almost every day.

But that relief was temporary, it was quickly replaced with a sense of wonder. His boss had just wandered into Victoria's Secret. One of the sales girls was leading him around piling up bra's and panties in his hands. In a moment, he was paying for the package and exiting the store. It was gift-wrapped but something seemed odd. Jerry had been in Aaron's office dozens of times, and never saw a picture of a wife or girlfriend. Come to think of it, every time he heard his blow-hard boss speak of romance around the office, he was bragging about a new conquest. To Jerry's knowledge, Aaron never had a girlfriend long-term enough to buy lingerie for.

Jerry reminded himself that he wasn't spying as he followed Aaron down the hall to the Anne Taylor boutique. He wanted to get close enough to hear the sizes being asked for, but couldn't for fear of discovery. But Jerry watched as 2 dresses were rung up, folded and placed in a bag for Aaron. And he continued towards another feminine clothing store. Then another. He bought something at each retailer he entered, and topped it off with a visit to Macy's make-up counter. Judging by the volume and content of the total purchases, it appeared his boss was a cross dresser on a binge, perhaps returning from a recent purge.

'That has to be it' Jerry told himself, 'there's no other explanation.'
 
*          *          *

And that lingering thought persisted throughout the weekend, and even managed to consume his Monday. The feeling of lonliness and desperation Jerry felt before was now replaced with uncertainty. How was he to proceed from here? Jerry had been careful to insulate his male life from his female persona, but these two worlds seemed to be colliding. As the day wound to a close, he realized that he'd hardly managed to get any work done.

Jerry was preparing to go home for the day when Aaron walked past on his way out. Before he could stop himself, he found himself smiling as he said, “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wanted to say more, but as the two locked eyes he fell silent.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back in Aaron's office moments earlier)

I spent the rest of my day working, not really paying any mind to the interview I had just conducted. I was anticipating the full moon and my change dates over the weekend. Saturday October 3rd, Sunday the 4th and Monday the 5th at moon-rise I'd become Erin again. I thought about using sick time next Monday to avoid a close call with my change, the days were growing shorter after-all. I might even take off Tuesday of next week to recover from the inevitable feminine hang-over. So I convinced myself to work ahead to ensure I could take the days off without falling behind. As I left the office walking my familiar route, I strode past Jerry's cubicle.

“Have a good night, Aaron.” Jerry said, spinning around in his chair to face me and smiling.

“You too, Jerry.” I said in my normal boss-like voice. We made eye contact briefly, and for a second I saw a faint pink light surrounding my subordinate. I thought about our brief exchange on the way to my car, and I realized that it was the first time Jerry had ever told me to have a good night at the end of a day. We'd been working together for a couple of years now too. I didn't dwell on the thought though. I had more work to do at home.
 
*          *          *
 
When I reached my apartment that evening, I opened up my new day-planner and began to mark off the dates of the full moons ahead. Just like the manual suggested, I marked several years off ahead of time. According to the full moon forecast device I just created, New Years Eve this year, 2009 to 2010, would be an interesting day. I would wake up that morning as Aaron, but ring in the New Year as Erin. It was fitting and somewhat ironic. Looking further ahead, I giggled about the gifts I'd want on Christmas in 2015. It dawned on me that I would have to miss quite a few family holiday's in the future in order to keep my secret. Unless of course I tell my family about my new condition, but that didn't strike me as being a wise move.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, and still no word from Heather. Every night when I got home, I looked out my window at the moon. Each evening it appeared slightly larger than it had been the previous nights. Before I knew it, Friday arrived and I was driving home from the office intent on a quiet night of rest. If this coming moon set was at all like last month's, I would need all the energy I could muster.

And I slept like a baby on Friday night. I didn't wake up until nearly noon on Saturday.
 
*          *          *
 
I immediately ate a large breakfast and although I knew what tonight would bring, I felt rather like my normal self. Emily called to ask how I was feeling. It was kind of her to call, and I was happy to report that I felt as good as ever. We agreed to meet up later that evening at her house, once I was good and prettied up. It wasn't easy to admit, but I was looking forward to moon-rise.

As the day wore on, I gleefully noted the subtle mental changes that preceded my physical transformation. My posture was positively feminine. Out of habit I corrected myself when I noticed it happening, but it was a lost cause. I gave up trying to sit, walk and stand in a masculine fashion.. Just after two in the afternoon, as I blankly watched my television, the image of a beautiful woman on screen drew a litany of comments from the female voice in my head. It was Erin reemerging as though a finger were flipping a light switch.

An hour or so later, I found myself in my bedroom rummaging through the feminine finery that I purchased at the mall. Everything from heels to lingerie and make-up was spread out all around me. Without even thinking about what I was doing, my hands began to match the different items together. I was delicately hanging my beautiful dresses and blouses on hangers, and placing the undergarments into my top drawers, neatly folded. Everything was put away with care, except for one of the Anne Taylor dresses which I gently spread out on top of my neatly made bed. It didn't bother me in the slightest that I was looking forward to putting it on. On the contrary, I could hardly wait to feel the material's snug fitting grip against my svelte form.

It felt like I was floating on air as I carried my make-up kit into the bathroom. I also brought along some products for my soon to be long and silky hair. I spread them about automatically, adjusting them as the strengthening girl voice in my head commanded me to. I even slung the push-up bra and a pair of no-line panties I wanted to wear after the change over my bath towel. Erin was preparing my house to suit her needs knowing that she would be unleashed again very soon. Aaron, on the other hand, was growing weaker as the day progressed. Somehow, knowing that the coming transformation was unavoidable allowed me to accept it.

After the bizarre ritual I had just engaged in was over, I made myself comfortable on the couch in front of the television. My curtains were drawn tightly and I didn't notice the sinking sun outside my windows. But as the moon began to rise to prominence in the night sky, I could feel my magic moment drawing near.

I was on my feet and heading in the direction of my bathroom when my pores began to open up. I was dripping sweat as I plugged my tubs drain and ran the tap to the 'hot' position. My hand reached out and grasped a bottle of what looked like shampoo. It said 'bubble bath' in delicate pink letters. I didn't even remember buying it, but Erin knew what she wanted. I emptied some of the bottles contents into the warm swirling torrent of water, and observed the pink gel mix in and beginning to bubble. It made the room smell like lilacs.

I lit a few candles I acquired over the past couple weeks, it appeared Erin was rather fond of candle light. As I shut off the regular lighting and closed the door, the flickering candles illuminating the room seemed to transform my surroundings.. I wasn't in 'my' bathroom, it was 'Erin's' bathroom tonight. The tub continued to fill behind me and although I could not see the sky outside, I knew the moon was very close to the magical, transformation inducing angle.

I remembered earlier that month, I was wondering what about the full moon forced a werewoman to shift. The book explained that the combination solar radiation reflected off the moon and gravitational extremes threw the process into motion. The gravitational force of a moon in full phase had tidal implications all over the world. Throughout the month, high tides and low tides came and went, but during a full moon the high tides were higher and the low tides lower than average. It was a time of extremes for sea-levels worldwide, but also impacted cellular tides within the human body. Just like the tides, reflected solar radiation was present all month long too, though in varying quantities. As the surface of the moon crept out from behind the shadow of the earth becoming fuller, the radiation levels gradually increased. On the three nights per month when the moon was fullest, levels of reflected radiation were sufficiently strong enough to burn away any trace of masculinity on a person like me. So gravity plus radiation with a dash of magic made the whole process possible, rather inevitable for a werewoman. I reminded myself that the show would begin any moment now.

Stripping off the grubby t-shirt, jeans and boxer shorts that I had worn all day, I tossed them carelessly into the hamper. My skin was warm to the touch, but as I cautiously dipped my toes into the hot bath the waters seemed soothing. Lowering myself into the tub, I could feel the familiar tingling sensation slowly beginning take hold. It started in my belly and groin, and gradually crept outward.. I was beginning to feel the effects of stronger than average lunar radiation and the tidal extremes combine. The change has been triggered.

The handbook explained the tingles I was experiencing, and I remembered reading that passage as they continued to wash over me. The sensation I felt when changing was a result of every cell in my body beginning to femanize. See, women have a genetic advantage over men, it has a lot to do with the double X pairing of their sex chromosomes. As a result of this combination, every cell in a woman's body is symmetrical. An identical copy of the X chromosome is present in each cell. So when one side of the cell dies, the other side can carry out it's intended function uninterrupted before succumbing some time later. Men have an XY pairing at a chromosomal level. So when one side of a male cell ceases to function, the other side is not able to compensate and the cell as a whole dies off. Superior cell structure partially explain why women outlive men in virtually every society on earth. And right now, each cell in my body was simultaneously purging itself of every male component, replacing these with female equivalents.

I suppose it was reflex, but as my skin began to squirm and the first physical signs of my change began to appear, I started grunting like an angry cave-man. I was tense but shaky as the water surrounding me splashed about, some of it leaving the tub. But something inside of me screamed to relax, to let go. As much as I wanted to think it was 'Erin' telling me to calm down, deep down I knew it was 'Aaron's' idea to surrender to the change willingly. It was as though my boy side had given me permission to enjoy what was happening to me. My body went still and the splashing died down. The tingling I felt increased in intensity all over, and for the first time I reveled in the pleasurable feeling of becoming a woman.

I relaxed my whole body as my face quivered and contorted in sharp but pleasant spams. The sand-papery feeling of my stubble ridden face smoothed over as I ran my hands across my chin. The hard male features softened to a more feminine configuration a moment later.. I could feel my nose shrinking as my lips inflated and my jawline became less prominent all at once. It was hard to keep up with all the changes wracking my body. The tub grew larger around me as I my height and weight diminished. Hard muscles softened, rough skin smoothed out all over. A more slender and delicate hand reached down into my lap and gently handled my shrinking manhood. The pleasure I felt increased dramatically.

My eyes were closed tightly, and I was moaning in ecstasy in a voice several octaves higher than it had been moments before. The desperate, urgent need for relief in the male sense of the word diminished as new erogenous zones began to beg for my touch. Roaming hands wandered freely across my changing form, pleasure coming from innocent places that now seemed deeply erotic. Shaking my head side to side gently, I thoroughly enjoyed the wet strands of long brown hair clinging to my neck. Soon this lengthening tangle of hair touched the tip of my slender shoulders. My penis had completely disappeared into my body at this point, leaving behind something far better.

I gasped a dainty feminine gasp as my skinny boy-hips splayed outwards approaching child-bearing proportions. At the same time I could feel the remaining fat cells in my body beginning to migrate. I usually carried my extra weight around in the stomach and face, now it seemed to be redistributing itself to my hips, rear and chest. It accumulated in those places at an astonishing rate, changing the shape of my tiny androgynous frame into something recognizably female.

A tickle behind both nipples signaled the start of my most fascinating change of all, one I found myself looking forward to as tonights transformation event unfolded. The tiny twin pink nubs on my chest stiffened as they grew in size becoming more sensitive with each heartbeat. Suddenly the area surrounding my thickening areaola began to itch. I scratched lightly, pausing to tease my growing nipples. I was imagining Emily gently drawing upon them with her puffy lips the way she'd done last month. I was getting myself really worked up again, the sense of erotic urgency seemed to be returning. I could sense my labia swelling and my inner moisture building up within the soft pink folds of my femaleness. My breathing became erratic as the mounds of subcutaneous fat behind my erect nipples pushed ever upwards. The itchiness subsided, but my growing breasts burned oh so slightly as they gradually blossomed to their full size. Soon they were too large for my girly hand to contain. They spilled out of my dainty mits as I cupped them, massaging the fleshy masses seemed to ease their growth. The changes stopped at this point, and the tingling sensation began to subside. I was a woman again, head to toe, body and soul.

And I was incredibly turned on to boot.
 

was a Monday morning, I'd be transforming for the first time that month on Saturday evening. I had an interview scheduled with a hopeful employee to get through first. A youthful lad named Mr. Kevin Jones came to my office in a suit and tie, looking smart as he entered.

But as he looked at me seated behind my desk, an expression of faint recognition crossed his face. Come to think of it, he looked familiar to me as well. But I could not place his name or face. After the brief awkward moment at the start of the interview, it turned out this kid had all of the skills we were looking for. And a smooth personality to match. Plus being young, unmarried and childless with no experience, I could get him for a small salary. I decided to give him the job then and there, though I didn't say so directly because I had to clear it with Human Resources.

As he was leaving my office after the interview, Kevin turned to me and said, “I got it! You were at the movie theater a couple weekends ago, that's how I remember you! God that's been bugging me this whole time.” He was smiling, clearly proud of his detective-like memory. His right hand was out for me to shake.

I was mortified for a second until I pulled it together. “Yeah I was there the other weekend. We'll be in touch about the position.” I smiled rather weakly. He left my office without another word. How much of his movie-going experience did this kid remember?
___________________________________________________________________________________

A young lad named Kevin Jones strolled through a parking lot after nailing a job interview. Everything had gone astonishingly well, and he even managed to impress his prospective employer with a feat of memory. All he was thinking about was telling his girlfriend, Kelly as soon as he got home. Whistling a happy tune as he strode, Kevin couldn't help but think to himself, 'Damn I'm smooth.'

 

Part 11

 

 

(Later that day, at a random workspace in Aaron's office)

It was getting near the end of the day that Monday, and Jerry sat anxious in his cubicle. It wasn't because the other males in the office treated him like an outcast. Being a crossdresser as far back as he could remember, he'd gotten used to being left out of 'guy talk.' Not that it bothered him. Jerry didn't even mind the fact that the women at the office, who he got along with so well during the day, weren't calling to hang out after work. It did bother Jerry that as a crossdresser in a place where it was none too common, he thought he was desperately alone in what he did. So he hid his feminine alter ego from everyone he knew as 'Jerry.' He'd met friends on line and done a couple conventions in places like Las Vegas and San Fransisco, but in daily life he had nobody who was capable of understanding his feminine side. But all of that changed in an instant the other night at the mall. The day would soon be over, and Jerry had done little other than replay the scene from last Friday evening in his mind.
 
*          *          *
 
Jerry recalled standing in between the food court and the Victoria's Secret shop in the mall. He'd come here to shop this evening, dressed as his female self, Jenny. This was something he'd done many times before. But this time something seemed off, call it woman's intuition. As Jenny relished the sound of her high heals clicking off the tile floor, she suddenly saw a site that made her freeze in her tracks. A man she recognized as her macho, arrogant boss, Aaron had just walked right past. The sudden shock brought Jerry's panicky persona back to the fore...

He thought to himself, 'Will he recognize me? Am I passing? How will he react if he sees me like this? Is my make-up good? What about my wig?' All of these thoughts processed in the instant it took Aaron to stroll past without a word or any acknowledgement. A feeling of relief washed over Jerry. Jenny had passed in front of a man her male alter ego saw almost every day.

But that relief was temporary, it was quickly replaced with a sense of wonder. His boss had just wandered into Victoria's Secret. One of the sales girls was leading him around piling up bra's and panties in his hands. In a moment, he was paying for the package and exiting the store. It was gift-wrapped but something seemed odd. Jerry had been in Aaron's office dozens of times, and never saw a picture of a wife or girlfriend. Come to think of it, every time he heard his blow-hard boss speak of romance around the office, he was bragging about a new conquest. To Jerry's knowledge, Aaron never had a girlfriend long-term enough to buy lingerie for.

Jerry reminded himself that he wasn't spying as he followed Aaron down the hall to the Anne Taylor boutique. He wanted to get close enough to hear the sizes being asked for, but couldn't for fear of discovery. But Jerry watched as 2 dresses were rung up, folded and placed in a bag for Aaron. And he continued towards another feminine clothing store. Then another. He bought something at each retailer he entered, and topped it off with a visit to Macy's make-up counter. Judging by the volume and content of the total purchases, it appeared his boss was a cross dresser on a binge, perhaps returning from a recent purge.

'That has to be it' Jerry told himself, 'there's no other explanation.'
 
*          *          *

And that lingering thought persisted throughout the weekend, and even managed to consume his Monday. The feeling of lonliness and desperation Jerry felt before was now replaced with uncertainty. How was he to proceed from here? Jerry had been careful to insulate his male life from his female persona, but these two worlds seemed to be colliding. As the day wound to a close, he realized that he'd hardly managed to get any work done.

Jerry was preparing to go home for the day when Aaron walked past on his way out. Before he could stop himself, he found himself smiling as he said, “Have a good night, Aaron.” He wanted to say more, but as the two locked eyes he fell silent.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back in Aaron's office moments earlier)

I spent the rest of my day working, not really paying any mind to the interview I had just conducted. I was anticipating the full moon and my change dates over the weekend. Saturday October 3rd, Sunday the 4th and Monday the 5th at moon-rise I'd become Erin again. I thought about using sick time next Monday to avoid a close call with my change, the days were growing shorter after-all. I might even take off Tuesday of next week to recover from the inevitable feminine hang-over. So I convinced myself to work ahead to ensure I could take the days off without falling behind. As I left the office walking my familiar route, I strode past Jerry's cubicle.

“Have a good night, Aaron.” Jerry said, spinning around in his chair to face me and smiling.

“You too, Jerry.” I said in my normal boss-like voice. We made eye contact briefly, and for a second I saw a faint pink light surrounding my subordinate. I thought about our brief exchange on the way to my car, and I realized that it was the first time Jerry had ever told me to have a good night at the end of a day. We'd been working together for a couple of years now too. I didn't dwell on the thought though. I had more work to do at home.
 
*          *          *
 
When I reached my apartment that evening, I opened up my new day-planner and began to mark off the dates of the full moons ahead. Just like the manual suggested, I marked several years off ahead of time. According to the full moon forecast device I just created, New Years Eve this year, 2009 to 2010, would be an interesting day. I would wake up that morning as Aaron, but ring in the New Year as Erin. It was fitting and somewhat ironic. Looking further ahead, I giggled about the gifts I'd want on Christmas in 2015. It dawned on me that I would have to miss quite a few family holiday's in the future in order to keep my secret. Unless of course I tell my family about my new condition, but that didn't strike me as being a wise move.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, and still no word from Heather. Every night when I got home, I looked out my window at the moon. Each evening it appeared slightly larger than it had been the previous nights. Before I knew it, Friday arrived and I was driving home from the office intent on a quiet night of rest. If this coming moon set was at all like last month's, I would need all the energy I could muster.

And I slept like a baby on Friday night. I didn't wake up until nearly noon on Saturday.
 
*          *          *
 
I immediately ate a large breakfast and although I knew what tonight would bring, I felt rather like my normal self. Emily called to ask how I was feeling. It was kind of her to call, and I was happy to report that I felt as good as ever. We agreed to meet up later that evening at her house, once I was good and prettied up. It wasn't easy to admit, but I was looking forward to moon-rise.

As the day wore on, I gleefully noted the subtle mental changes that preceded my physical transformation. My posture was positively feminine. Out of habit I corrected myself when I noticed it happening, but it was a lost cause. I gave up trying to sit, walk and stand in a masculine fashion. Just after two in the afternoon, as I blankly watched my television, the image of a beautiful woman on screen drew a litany of comments from the female voice in my head. It was Erin reemerging as though a finger were flipping a light switch.

An hour or so later, I found myself in my bedroom rummaging through the feminine finery that I purchased at the mall. Everything from heels to lingerie and make-up was spread out all around me. Without even thinking about what I was doing, my hands began to match the different items together. I was delicately hanging my beautiful dresses and blouses on hangers, and placing the undergarments into my top drawers, neatly folded. Everything was put away with care, except for one of the Anne Taylor dresses which I gently spread out on top of my neatly made bed. It didn't bother me in the slightest that I was looking forward to putting it on. On the contrary, I could hardly wait to feel the material's snug fitting grip against my svelte form.

It felt like I was floating on air as I carried my make-up kit into the bathroom. I also brought along some products for my soon to be long and silky hair. I spread them about automatically, adjusting them as the strengthening girl voice in my head commanded me to. I even slung the push-up bra and a pair of no-line panties I wanted to wear after the change over my bath towel. Erin was preparing my house to suit her needs knowing that she would be unleashed again very soon. Aaron, on the other hand, was growing weaker as the day progressed. Somehow, knowing that the coming transformation was unavoidable allowed me to accept it.

After the bizarre ritual I had just engaged in was over, I made myself comfortable on the couch in front of the television. My curtains were drawn tightly and I didn't notice the sinking sun outside my windows. But as the moon began to rise to prominence in the night sky, I could feel my magic moment drawing near.

I was on my feet and heading in the direction of my bathroom when my pores began to open up. I was dripping sweat as I plugged my tubs drain and ran the tap to the 'hot' position. My hand reached out and grasped a bottle of what looked like shampoo. It said 'bubble bath' in delicate pink letters. I didn't even remember buying it, but Erin knew what she wanted. I emptied some of the bottles contents into the warm swirling torrent of water, and observed the pink gel mix in and beginning to bubble. It made the room smell like lilacs.

I lit a few candles I acquired over the past couple weeks, it appeared Erin was rather fond of candle light. As I shut off the regular lighting and closed the door, the flickering candles illuminating the room seemed to transform my surroundings. I wasn't in 'my' bathroom, it was 'Erin's' bathroom tonight. The tub continued to fill behind me and although I could not see the sky outside, I knew the moon was very close to the magical, transformation inducing angle.

I remembered earlier that month, I was wondering what about the full moon forced a werewoman to shift. The book explained that the combination solar radiation reflected off the moon and gravitational extremes threw the process into motion. The gravitational force of a moon in full phase had tidal implications all over the world. Throughout the month, high tides and low tides came and went, but during a full moon the high tides were higher and the low tides lower than average.. It was a time of extremes for sea-levels worldwide, but also impacted cellular tides within the human body. Just like the tides, reflected solar radiation was present all month long too, though in varying quantities. As the surface of the moon crept out from behind the shadow of the earth becoming fuller, the radiation levels gradually increased. On the three nights per month when the moon was fullest, levels of reflected radiation were sufficiently strong enough to burn away any trace of masculinity on a person like me. So gravity plus radiation with a dash of magic made the whole process possible, rather inevitable for a werewoman. I reminded myself that the show would begin any moment now.

Stripping off the grubby t-shirt, jeans and boxer shorts that I had worn all day, I tossed them carelessly into the hamper. My skin was warm to the touch, but as I cautiously dipped my toes into the hot bath the waters seemed soothing. Lowering myself into the tub, I could feel the familiar tingling sensation slowly beginning take hold. It started in my belly and groin, and gradually crept outward. I was beginning to feel the effects of stronger than average lunar radiation and the tidal extremes combine. The change has been triggered.

The handbook explained the tingles I was experiencing, and I remembered reading that passage as they continued to wash over me. The sensation I felt when changing was a result of every cell in my body beginning to femanize. See, women have a genetic advantage over men, it has a lot to do with the double X pairing of their sex chromosomes. As a result of this combination, every cell in a woman's body is symmetrical. An identical copy of the X chromosome is present in each cell. So when one side of the cell dies, the other side can carry out it's intended function uninterrupted before succumbing some time later. Men have an XY pairing at a chromosomal level. So when one side of a male cell ceases to function, the other side is not able to compensate and the cell as a whole dies off. Superior cell structure partially explain why women outlive men in virtually every society on earth. And right now, each cell in my body was simultaneously purging itself of every male component, replacing these with female equivalents.

I suppose it was reflex, but as my skin began to squirm and the first physical signs of my change began to appear, I started grunting like an angry cave-man. I was tense but shaky as the water surrounding me splashed about, some of it leaving the tub. But something inside of me screamed to relax, to let go. As much as I wanted to think it was 'Erin' telling me to calm down, deep down I knew it was 'Aaron's' idea to surrender to the change willingly. It was as though my boy side had given me permission to enjoy what was happening to me. My body went still and the splashing died down. The tingling I felt increased in intensity all over, and for the first time I reveled in the pleasurable feeling of becoming a woman.

I relaxed my whole body as my face quivered and contorted in sharp but pleasant spams. The sand-papery feeling of my stubble ridden face smoothed over as I ran my hands across my chin. The hard male features softened to a more feminine configuration a moment later. I could feel my nose shrinking as my lips inflated and my jawline became less prominent all at once. It was hard to keep up with all the changes wracking my body. The tub grew larger around me as I my height and weight diminished. Hard muscles softened, rough skin smoothed out all over. A more slender and delicate hand reached down into my lap and gently handled my shrinking manhood. The pleasure I felt increased dramatically.

My eyes were closed tightly, and I was moaning in ecstasy in a voice several octaves higher than it had been moments before. The desperate, urgent need for relief in the male sense of the word diminished as new erogenous zones began to beg for my touch. Roaming hands wandered freely across my changing form, pleasure coming from innocent places that now seemed deeply erotic. Shaking my head side to side gently, I thoroughly enjoyed the wet strands of long brown hair clinging to my neck.. Soon this lengthening tangle of hair touched the tip of my slender shoulders. My penis had completely disappeared into my body at this point, leaving behind something far better.

I gasped a dainty feminine gasp as my skinny boy-hips splayed outwards approaching child-bearing proportions. At the same time I could feel the remaining fat cells in my body beginning to migrate. I usually carried my extra weight around in the stomach and face, now it seemed to be redistributing itself to my hips, rear and chest. It accumulated in those places at an astonishing rate, changing the shape of my tiny androgynous frame into something recognizably female.

A tickle behind both nipples signaled the start of my most fascinating change of all, one I found myself looking forward to as tonights transformation event unfolded. The tiny twin pink nubs on my chest stiffened as they grew in size becoming more sensitive with each heartbeat. Suddenly the area surrounding my thickening areaola began to itch. I scratched lightly, pausing to tease my growing nipples. I was imagining Emily gently drawing upon them with her puffy lips the way she'd done last month. I was getting myself really worked up again, the sense of erotic urgency seemed to be returning. I could sense my labia swelling and my inner moisture building up within the soft pink folds of my femaleness. My breathing became erratic as the mounds of subcutaneous fat behind my erect nipples pushed ever upwards. The itchiness subsided, but my growing breasts burned oh so slightly as they gradually blossomed to their full size. Soon they were too large for my girly hand to contain. They spilled out of my dainty mits as I cupped them, massaging the fleshy masses seemed to ease their growth. The changes stopped at this point, and the tingling sensation began to subside. I was a woman again, head to toe, body and soul.

And I was incredibly turned on to boot.
 
Part 12

Post transformation interlude...

I giggled, laughing out loud in uncontrollable bursts. Erin was just so happy to be complete once more. As thrilling as it was, lust like I'd never known overcame my senses. I couldn't resist touching myself. My fingers knew exactly where to go and what to do as I focused my mind on the encounter with Emily last month. Somehow, the passion I felt at this moment was different. With Emily, my arousal built slowly and rapture overtook me little by little. Emily looked so beautiful to me, I wanted that moment to last forever. But back in the present, I knew that getting off was the only imperative. So I worked fast, and in a few intense minutes my nether lips clenched tightly around my probing finger. My womanhood throbbed, and my whole being began to tremble.

All the amazing feelings that accompanied orgasm seemed to linger as I lay motionless in the tub, snorting a little as I resumed laughing like a hyena. The euphoria and joy I felt was indescribable, I was just so happy Erin was back. The lilac bubble bath covered the surface of the water in a thin film of suds. The layer of bubbly white foam concealed my altered form beneath. But I could feel the warmth around my new, curvaceous bod. The plumpness of my feminine rear pressing against the hard ceramic tub crept into consciousness. It provided a better cushion than my bony male rump. As I scootched down lowering myself into the warm water, I became aware of a difference in the articulation of my wider hip joints. As I moved, my nipples broke the surface of the warm water, responding instantly to the cold air. I cupped them in my hands, grinning ear to ear as I re-submerged my sweater torpedoes.

In a word, I felt marvelous. Shifting itself was an amazing process, entirely painless and somewhat quick. I figured it must get easier each time it happens. I'd even gotten through tonights change faster than the ones I experienced last month. And the end result was just as wonderful. Last month, I was caught off guard by something new and terrifying.. Armed with the knowledge that it was going to happen again tonight, the event was less traumatic, but no less unsettling. In a way, it reminded me of baseball practice as a kid. When the time came to go, I never wanted to and I made up excuses to get out of it. But in the end, I always wound up being forced to go only to have a wonderful time once I got there. I liked baseball, I was friends with my team mates and instead of serious drills and scrimmaging, we usually ended up just goofing off. My situation now was the same but different. I loved having a female body, I liked my new pack-mates, and it seemed increasingly likely that I'd enjoy the time I was forced to spend as Erin. Since the manual indicated there was no cure for being what I am, my options were to embrace it or let it drive me crazy.
 
*          *          *
 
(In an apartment complex not too far away)

The sound of an angry keystroke echoed off the walls of Jerry's apartment. One of his on-line 'gurlfriends' had invited him to an outing at a club not far from his house. Sitting in front of the glowing monitor, running over the latest draft of the message intended to blow off the invitation, he could not bring himself to press the send key. Jerry was tired of playing it safe when it came to his female persona. He had gone to such lengths to prevent his secret from being discovered by everyone, and it brought him nothing but misery. Even though the outing was close to where Jerry lived and worked, a big no-no he'd sworn off long ago, it seemed like a better option than sitting alone at home. Something about witnessing Aaron the other weekend at the mall, so confidently purchasing all of those girly items, seemed to embolden Jerry. Why should he hide in the shadows when he felt quite certain nobody in the light would care how he was dressed?

Jerry deleted the brush off message. The message he sent to accept the invite took only seconds to write and send.

“Thanks for the invite, Nessa. I'll see you there at 10!
Hugs,
Jenny”

Invested with a new sense of confidence, Jerry unlocked the thick trunk in the back of his closet. Peeling back the lid revealed all of Jenny's belongings. It was his own, private girl-in-a-box, he could take her out whenever he desired. And that seemed to be increasingly frequent of late. Just like so many nights before, Jerry was going to make the switch to Jenny mode, to take the girl out of the box.. But unlike all the previous nights where secrecy was of paramount concern, this evening he was going out, risks be damned.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back in Erin's bathroom)

The water was beginning to cool, and my fingers were pruning up as I emerged from the tub. The gentle swat of my breasts as I pulled myself up from the sitting position caught my attention. I wondered to if their wild movements would ever become second nature, or if I'd always be especially aware of my wobbly bits. I grabbed the towel to dry my dripping body, carefully setting aside the bra and panties on top. When I was dry, I wrapped the towel around my chest and stepped out in front of the mirror.

My reflection in the candle-light took my breath away. A rounded face topped off with a gentle button of a nose stared back. My big. hazel eyes appeared luminous as they reflected the tiny, flickering flames. Wet brown hair clung to a smaller head, and for the first time I noticed my ears stuck out a little more than an average persons. 'Great, I have Dumbo-ears,' I thought, but hey nobody's perfect. My soft cupid bow lips curled upwards into a smile, 'Are all girls this self conscious?' It was a rhetorical question best left unanswered. Right now, I had to get ready to meet Emily.

So I picked up my new panties, looking for a tag to tell front from back, and stepped into them one leg at a time. As I pulled the waist band up to the proper position on my hips, the stretchy material seemed to hug the subtle feminine mound featured on my otherwise flat crotch. In a strange way, it was comforting to be tucked in so well. The feeling from the luxurious material seemed to rub me just right too. The garment was snug but not overly tight, breathable but insulating, concealing but revealing. Covering my nudity it was practical and ornamental at once, a girly blend of form and function.

Next came the bra. It felt like a crime to hide my lovely breasts, but society had rules and I had a sense of decency. So I picked up the slinky silk support system and held it up for a second. Quickly realizing I had no idea how to put it on, I remembered all my experience undoing them. But it was no help to me now. Of all the things Erin somehow automatically knew, sizes, styles, stores and shoes, somehow this knowledge evaded her. But I was an intelligent human being, as a college graduate and a business manager I was definitely capable of figuring this puzzle out.

After trying to hook the back together with the front in position and nearly dislocating my shoulders, an idea occurred to me. I flipped the bra around and lowered both hands. Right about belly button level, where my hips first began to flare out, I secured the latch in front of me and spun it around to the back. Then I gently lifted the elastic shoulder straps, pulling my arms through when they were in position. Tugging on the chest band, I made sure it was even before gently inserting my breasts into the cups. The twins were squished together, and suspended somewhat higher than their natural position on my chest. After a minor adjustment or two, my breasts were securely supported by properly adjusted shoulder straps, and a perfectly fitting bra. The constrictive chest band against my skin, which I thought might be unpleasant, instead felt like a gentle hug. I felt lighter, the garment seemed to distribute the weight of my breasts more evenly across my back and shoulders. The soft padding inside the cups guarded my nipples against irritation, and as I moved the material didn't shift against my sensitive skin. I was elated.

What's more, as good as it felt to wear, it looked even better in the small vanity mirror.

Running a brush through wet tangly hair, I turned on the blow dryer and went to town. Becoming softer under the brush, it fell straight down to my shoulders as it dried in the warm breeze. I'd need Emily's help to style it, but I could at least get it looking acceptable for public view. As the device hummed away in my palm, I remembered making fun of girlfriends past for spending so long in the bathroom. I now understood why they'd wake up so early to get their appearance right before work. Just blow drying my mop took 15 solid minutes. When the deed was done at last, I opened up a box of hair ties and deftly guided my chestnut locks into a tight pony-tail. It was easier than I though it would be, and didn't look half bad. All throughout my male life, I admired a good pony-tail. To me, both then and now, women always looked their best when they weren't trying to.
 
*          *          *
 
(Meanwhile, in the back of Jerry's closet)

Jenny picked out her favorite black dress, it came down past the knees and covered her bulky arms. She turned around placing it on the bed behind her. Her temples were pounding with excitement as she handled her silicone breast forms gently removing them from their container. Of all the accessories she'd accumulated, Jenny's forms were by far her favorite. She set them down next to the dress and fished out her derrière. It was one of the more expensive items in the collection, a Veronica II, but it was worth every penny. She set aside some jewelry, underwear, and gently lifted the make-up box out of the larger trunk. Jenny was careful with the make-up box, remembering the time the lid fell off spilling all the powders into a cloud of noxious vapor. It stained the carpet below and poor Jerry was left to taste the stuff on his palette for a week afterwards.

While she selecting a wardrobe, Jenny plotted a make-up strategy. This was especially important tonight, she didn't want to be recognized if it could be avoided. Settling on a 'girl next door grown up' sort of look, which at a youthful 26 she felts she could pull off, Jenny headed off to shower and shave. Along the way, she switched on her i-Pod and set it to play Shania Twain's, “I Feel Like a Woman,” a ritual that helped to mentally wash the boy off. It would take a while to get ready, but the night was young.
 
*          *          *
 
(And we're back at Erin's....it's like a tennis match, no?)

After my hair was dry, I realized how positively starving the metabolic miracle of my transformation had left me. Making a bee-line to the fridge in nothing but my bra and panties, I simply couldn't wait another moment for food. Besides, why risk staining my dress? On the top shelf I found what I was looking for, a container of Chinese leftovers. Day-old, last night's Kung-Pow chicken. I didn't bother to heat it, and hungrily devoured the contents of the carton. At the bottom of the brown paper bag I was about to toss out was a small fortune cookie. I was still a bit peckish and opened it up. I devoured the cookie while reading the message to myself.

'Life's most rewarding journey is seldom one we choose.'

How... appropriate. Confucius never ceases to amaze.

As I entered the bedroom, my eyes were treated to the visage of my reflection in a full length mirror. Clad in the no-line panties and a push-up bra, I looked like a Victoria's Secret model on the job. My jaw dropped and I couldn't believe it was me staring back. But I was looking forward to slipping into my dress far to much to be distracted.

I pulled the little, black Anne Taylor dress up against my chest, and twirled around while holding it tightly. I'm not known for my twirling, and I fell hitting the ground butt first with a thud. After a second of being shocked by my own clumsiness, I recovered and stood up. That was embarrassing, I felt thankful that nobody was watching me right now. I pulled the dress on over my head, and adjusted it in the mirror. It hung just right and clung so tight in all places it should, as though it was sewn over a mannequin of my body. The silk threads grabbing my hips and waist firmly enhanced my hourglass shape. The tense material eased up around the buttocks, there the material was less grabby, and seemed to have more give. The straps of my shoulders covered my bra entirely, some women can pull off the 'showing a little strap' look, but I had too much class for that.

I looked myself over head to toe, well satisfied with the results of my endeavor, it was time to get moving. I needed to call Emily so she'd know to expect me. Tonight, after a make-up lesson and some hairstyling tips, she was taking me to meet up with a few other sisters I'd met last month. I asked her, “Where?” a million times throughout the month, but she refused to tell me. The only thing she said to shut me up was...

“It's a place you always wanted to go, you'll know what I mean when we get there.”

Part 14

(Quick aside to the readers)
Some of you might be wondering what happened to the chapter between 12 and 14? It's a valid question, so here's an answer.. The author is a very superstitious basket-case, and avoids that particular number like the plague. So I made chapter 14 extra long to compensate.. I'm sorry if this decision offends any fans of that cursed number. Now, onto the story...
 
 
(The sounds of Shania Twain's voice reverberated off the walls of Jenny's steamy bathroom.)

As she showered to prepare for her evening out, Jenny thought about what had led her to this point in her life. She'd been through myriad phases with her dressing. It had been quite a journey from innocent child's play, to arousal driven dressing for sexual gratification as a teen. These developments were followed by the, 'I'm not a real cross-dresser' stage, when 'Jerry' actually thought he could beat the urge to dress. Silly boy! Luckily the denial stage didn't last long, but when the dressing began again, this time it was with a heavy fetish component In this phase, Jenny wore a lot of fantasy costumes including a slutty French maid outfit, a Harem girl get-up and lingerie that most modern women didn't even know how to operate. All of these various phases led Jenny to the place she was in now. Nowadays, she dressed for comfort and to acknowledge a side of her personality that lacked any other means of expression. Passing as female was always important to Jenny, but tonight it took on new significance.

Jenny had been out with gurlfriends in the past, but always out of town. It was never a problem as her group was unlikely to cross paths with anyone 'Jerry' knew. But Jenny's outings close to home were always a solo affair. It's a well known fact amongst cross-dressing men that the risk of being read and identified increases ten-fold with every gurl in the group. Four men together trying to pass as women are 1,000 times more likely to draw attention than one cross-dresser by herself. It's because every gurl has her own unique give-aways, and with more gurls in the herd there were more give-aways for passers by to queue in on. Some gurls were tall, others had man muscles too large to conceal, a few had no sense of fashion and dressed like they were trapped forever in the fetish phase. And if one member of your group gets read, so does everybody else. Tonight Jenny was meeting up with 4 or 5 fellow cross-dressers at a T-club so close to home, and she knew for a fact she'd be in close proximity to people 'Jerry' saw frequently.

Alone, Jenny blended in quite well with the world around her. Possessing a short and lean stature was a plus for any male with strong trans-gender leanings. A touch of gynomastia had even graced Jenny with a set of small but feminine looking breasts. As a teen, this condition both tortured and delighted her male alter ego. It enhanced 'his' private dressing sessions, but made gym class a waking nightmare. With age and growing experience living the trans-gender lifestyle, Jenny came to appreciate her chest bumps. They still enhanced dressing up, and the gym class ribbing's of yesteryear were like last summers tan; a fading memory. Even the Adam's apple, bane of t-girls everywhere, was not especially concerning to Jenny. She hardly showed any trace of having one. If her group was read tonight, Jenny was confident that it would not be her fault.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back to Erin, parking her car in Emily's parking lot.)

Mother moon smiled down upon me as I strolled into Emily's building, I looked back and smiled in return for all her favors. In a moment I was outside Emily's opening door, greeting my friend with a hug.

“Welcome back Erin, how was your change tonight?” Emily asked as our hug drew to a close. She welcomed me inside as I tried to find an answer.

“It was... you know... just like the other times, I guess.” I found myself lying. Of course it'd been far better tonight than last month. But I wasn't quite ready to admit that to anybody else, even Emily.

“You'll get used to it dear, it takes time. It's really good to see you again though.” Emily took my hand and led me into her kitchen. “It's been a while since I had to endure a shift, but I remember I was always hungry afterwards. I made some some chow if you'd like to eat.” Her condo smelled like an Italian restaurant.. On the table sat a freshly baked tray of lasagna, and it looked delicious.

“It looks and smells so wonderful.” I commented honestly. I had to try a slice, not only to be polite but also because I wanted to. “Maybe just a little bit. Before I left the house I ate some left-overs. That is, if you can call what I did eating. It more closely resembled a woman-on-food hate crime.”

Emily laughed at my bad joke. “I remember that feeling. Preparing easy to heat meals before a moon-set will help you recover from a change and the hunger it can bring. I used to make a pan of lasagna for each night I planned to shift. I'd pop it in the oven just before I succumbed to the change.” Her advice was sage-like. I was definitely going to use that approach. “And besides” Emily went on, “with our enhanced metabolism you'll never gain an ounce.”

As she finished her statement I thought about what she said. The manual indicated that werewomen tend to stay in great physical shape with little effort due to an unusually high metabolism. That benefit carried over into male life as well. The more I thought about it, the more it rang true. Aaron had a ponch and some love-handles two months ago. When he stripped before transforming this evening, his stomach was flat and the handles were flying at half mast. Over the course of the month in her dormant state, she recalled feeling stronger than normal. Nothing about his exercise regimen had changed. “OK then, perhaps I'll have more than one slice.” It was so good, I wanted to go Garfield on it, devouring the tray with my bare hands. But that was un-ladylike.

When I was finished gorging on the Italian food, Emily took me into her bathroom and began to work on my hair. “You are so lucky to have gotten such straight hair.” she said as she brushed and sprayed my hair with chemicals.

“I sort of like the natural wave in yours.” I said truthfully.

“That's being a woman for you, the grass is always greener on the neighbors lawn.” Emily smiled. “Years ago, I'd have settled for just looking slightly feminine, but now that I have this knockout body, all I can do is compare myself to other knock-outs.” she sounded nostalgic.

“Yeah but it beats being a man!” I blurted out before even thinking about what I was saying. My face began to redden with embarrassment, the words flying out of my mouth caught me off guard.

Emily's eyes widened for a second. “It sounds like someone is starting to see things my way.” she said continuing to work on making me beautiful.

'Perhaps I am' I thought struggling not to inhale the fog of hair chemicals that surrounded me.
 
*          *          *
 
(Meanwhile, at the night-club in the warehouse district)

“Are you alright, boss?” asked Sam, the handsome male bartender.

“Yeah, fine.” replied Heather in a non-committal tone. Everything was proceeding according to her plan, and Erin was spending a lot of time with Emily. Why that seemed to irritate Heather was the real problem. Was it possible that she had feelings for Erin? No, impossible. Spending time with Emily was actually playing right into Heathers hand, the best course of action would be to let it go. But still, if things got too far along it could throw a wrench into her gears. A find like Erin was one-in a million, chances are Heather wouldn't get another crack at pulling off her plan.

This problem was eating at Heather to the point that it affected her in male life. As Heath, the owner of a marginally successful night-club, he'd been too distracted to attend to business since discovering Aaron. All he could think about was the plan, and Erin's role in it. It was maddening to know that there was even a ghost of a chance Heather wouldn't get what she needed from her new sister. Still, Heather reasoned, if she pushed too hard at this point, the whole thing may well blow up in her face. Just like it did with Emily. Patience was indeed a virtue, one that Heather struggled to possess.

Heather cleared her mind.

It was still early by clubbing standards, and the DJ for the night was setting up in his booth. Heather sat on her stool still deep in thought. The quiet hours at the club were therapeutic for her. Everyone on the full-time staff knew about her condition, so there was no need to hide it here in her sanctuary. She had a couple of weremen on staff, like the large framed front door bouncer, Eric. He went by Erica during the day, but liked to hulk up most if not every night. She didn't have any werewomen on the staff, better to make pack sisters out of them than employees. Others like the bartender, Sam were un-afflicted, but trusted associates nevertheless. If all the years of living as a werewoman had taught Heather anything, it was to include a couple of 'normals' in her day to day operations. They added perspective, and proved themselves in other ways too.

Sam, for example, took over as manager on the nights of the full moon, and the other nights Heather forced herself to change. Old Joe the cook prepared meals to ease the hunger pains following each transformation. It may sound like a small contribution, but when changing from Erica to Eric each night before work, it took quite a pile of food to satiate the mammoth wereman. Both Sam and Joe were related to werepeople too.

Joe had passed his gene for werewomanhood onto his son, Jack. It was a recessive trait in the father, he didn't even know it was a part of him. But when it activated in his son while the lad was of high-school age, it shocked both of them. Neither knew what was happening to the boy, but luckily Heather found them both soon after and brought them here. She taught Joe's new daughter how to live a fulfilling life, albeit one with an unusual twist. Heather initiated her as the youngest member of their pack, Jill. Jack and Jill had gone off to start college at the end of this past summer. Joe continued to work at the club out of gratitude. Heather had helped his son when he himself was unable, and Old Joe wasn't the type who forgot such kindnesses.

Sam grew up with a step-brother from the same mother. They were close in age and tight as could be. They did everything together, participated in sports, made mischief, invented war-games and played with trucks. But then one night, when the boys were in about eighth grade and ninth grade, Sam's slightly older brother turned into his sister right in front of him. Unlike his own parentage, Sam's brother was fathered by a werewoman in male form. Instead of freaking out and screaming after his brothers metamorphosis, Sam comforted his new sister. Together they figured out the rules of his curse on a trial and error basis, though it wasn't an easy initiation to the sisterhood. But Sam was supportive, helping his step-brother keep his secret from everyone except their mother. Although a little more than a year younger, he acted like her protective guardian. Not that she needed one. His brother or sister depending on the night was Vance, AKA Vanessa.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back in Jerry's apartment)

Stepping out of the shower, Jenny dried quickly and stepped into her gaff. This garment would conceal her birth-defect, transforming an unsightly male bulge into a beautiful Venus mound. Next came the Veronica II hip and rear padding. It's life-like look and feel seemed to move with Jenny as she walked or shifted in her seat. It was perfect for the cooler, October weather. Hopefully, if there was dancing at the club, it would hold up to the bouncing. Next came Jenny's favorite item, her breast forms. They were a full c-cup, made from flesh-tone silicone construction that warmed against her skin. The realistically shaped mounds were topped by perfectly proportioned nipples. Using a spray-on medical adhesive, Jenny placed her breasts in the perfect location against her chest and began to count out the time until the glue dried. It didn't take long to tack up and provide a good hold. Of course, she'd still need the added support of a bra if she wanted to move around as much as she planned to. And so she skillfully hooked into the one she'd picked out, placing it at the proper position on her chest. The glued-on forms immediately felt less heavy as their weight was redistributed by the supportive silk. With her foundation garments secure and in place, Jenny was beginning to take shape.

Every preparation up until now was easy, child's play compared to the next step. Now came the really advanced stuff. Genuine girls grow up encouraged to play with make-up. They receive tubes of toy lipstick and water soluble blush as gifts as soon as they can walk and talk. When they reach the age at which cosmetics are no longer a play-thing, their mothers, aunts and girlfriends all have advice to offer on how to achieve the best look possible. Soon it becomes a matter of personal choice for each woman, but they built up to that by combining all the skills they picked up along the way. Jenny had none of these advantages growing up, and had to rely upon magazines and tips from cross-dressing web-sites. Make-up itself was a fairly recent addition to the repertoire. Jenny had only just gotten good at using it after a couple years experimenting with mixed results. But tonight she was out to paint a masterpiece.

Jenny pulled out every trick she'd learned while getting ready that evening. Spreading foundation across her freshly shaven face, she knew how much to use to cover her beard shadow without looking like Mimi from the Drew Carey show. Her lip-stick went on next, outlined with a lip lining pencil ringing the edges to reduce smearing. Eye liner was an old enemy. She'd poked herself in the eye with the brush more than once, and it hurt each time. This evening, Jenny was on her game and avoided injuring herself as she applied her 'war-paint.' The fake lashes struck some people as being old fashioned. But they simply added to the illusion Jenny was hoping to create. 'Getting her girl-on' was going well for Jenny, and it came easier than usual tonight.

Now she was ready for her wig. Jenny had chosen the light brown, almost dirty blond get-up that matched her eyebrows. It was an expensive, human-hair wig, but it looked so natural on her. Placing it at the proper angle on her head, she smiled as she felt the tickle on the back of her neck. Positioning it just right in the mirror, she fastened it to her head using the method she found while reading Trans-living magazine. Even if she got bumped around on the dance floor, her hair wouldn't slip off of her scalp. That happened to her once on her second outing, a big convention in Las Vegas. It wouldn't happen again tonight.

Jenny admired her handy-work in the mirror, well satisfied with the results of her efforts. It wasn't just the pink fog talking, tonight she looked good. It was just after 9pm now, time to get going and meet up with Nessa and the gurls. Before leaving sight of the mirror, Jenny took a moment to psyche herself up for the challenge ahead. “You're beautiful, you pass, and nobody is going to mistake your fine ass for a man.” Then, drawing in a deep breath, Jenny shut out the lights in her apartment before stepping into the world beyond her front door.

On the way to her car, Jenny looked up and saw the full moon hanging overhead, lighting up the star laden sky. She found herself staring at the celestial orb as she opened up her drivers-side door. 'Maybe it was true what 'they' said about the moon bringing out the wild side in people.' Jenny mused. Call it full-moon-madness, but she felt like howling at the sky mimicking a wild coyote, or a wolf.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back at Emily's condo)

As Emily worked on making my face and hair beautiful, I wondered how the final results would look. Seated in a folding chair, she had me turned away from the mirror. Emily didn't want me seeing the final product until she was finished. Heather had fixed me up in considerably less time last month. I didn't mind being Heather and Emily's full sized Barbie doll though. It was fun for me to be fawned over like this. Last month, I tried to shoot down the offer of make-up, but tonight I freely accepted Emily's help and even wanted the glamor girl look she seemed to be going for.

After an eternity of looking focused and silent, Emily spoke. “There.” she said, tweaking an errant strand of hair. “You look positively radiant.” Emily remarked, pointing me towards the mirror.

She was right. My lips appeared fuller, my cheeks rosy but not overly so. My hair was bobby-pinned and sprayed with all sorts of products designed to smell pleasing and hold my locks in place. And it appeared that these products worked. I looked like I had visited a professional salon. I suppose my expression in the mirror said it all. Elation was written all over my face, and once again I couldn't believe how different I looked. It was like experiencing two transformations in the same evening. One from a male to a female, and the second from one female into a more beautiful version of herself.

“I...ah...Thank you Emily.” I said at last.

“The pleasure is all mine, Erin.” said Emily. “It's nearly time to meet the others, we'd better get going.” she looked down at her wristwatch as she spoke.

In all the excitement, I'd forgotten about our mysterious outing.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back in the warehouse district, at Heather's nightclub...)

Heather reflected on the many people she had helped throughout her werelife. She could scarcely remember her existence before being swept up in the werewoman tornado. Her personality had changed so much since then, as to be almost unrecognizable. Back then, she would have never considered doing what she'd done to Aaron, but things were different now. Heather felt guilty for changing him before he was ready for it, but the process had to be sped up. Any werewoman or wereman could plainly see that his aura was pink, but only one as well trained as Heather could see that his was a very special shade of pink. The glow coming off of Aaron the other month when Heather seduced him practically shouted, 'day-walker' to anyone perceptive enough to notice. Heather just hoped forcing this on him wouldn't undo all the other good she had done.

See, Aaron wasn't ready to face his girl side yet. He was still in a deep denial about who he was and what he wanted. Sure, he would have emerged from it eventually, but Heather couldn't wait for that day to arrive on its own. She acted hastily, a breach of pack protocol. A lapse in judgment that could cost her the alpha role in her own pack. Heather had used one of her powers on Aaron that night, a power she recently discovered on her own. This particular power wasn't mentioned in the handbook, and Heather hadn't discussed it with anybody. Except Vanessa.

Heather discovered she had the ability to draw out the feminine energy in people by using her hypnotic, green eyes. It was especially effective when used on trans-gendered men. A pent up ball of denial like Aaron took only seconds to unwind under Heather's gaze. It was a power she abused to get him begging to be turned. Ultimately he would have wanted this gift of his own free will, though that didn't make what she'd done right. Perhaps someday she'd thank her maker, perhaps not after what she had planned for him. Heather needed a werewoman on the cusp of becoming a day-walker to make her scheme work. Now the only missing ingredients were time and good fortune.

In through the door walked her favorite co-conspirator, Vanessa. “Hey Sambo!” she greeted her brother first with a bright smile.

“Hey sis, are you here to cheer up Mopey McGee over there?” he pointed at Heather.

“Geez what am I, a miracle worker?” Vanessa chuckled at her own bad joke. “It's time to go, cutie-pie.” she cooed, looking in Heather's direction. Only Heather and Sam were lucky enough to see this less aggressive, somewhat sweet side of Vanessa. It only really came out when two or three of them were together unobserved, like now.

Heather smiled at her companion. “It's good to see you too, sweetness.” she said. The two women hugged and smiled meekly at one another.

“Well aren't we cute?” Vanessa said sarcastically. She had a habit of shifting gears in a conversation with little or no warning. “Now come-on, lets get our asses in gear or we'll be late.”

'It's a real shame, but that's more like the Vanessa everyone else sees.' Heather thought to herself as they left, waving farewell to a bored looking Sam.
 

Part 15

(On a crowded city side-walk, a lone t-gurl wanders undetected amongst the cis-gendered.)

Jenny arrived at the appointed location to meet her sisters. It was the Dairy Queen across the street from the city's oldest trans-gendered night-club. She thought about the irony of being a 'Drag-Queen' in a Dairy Queen across the street from Queen Anne's Revenge, the name of the T-club. That's what a casual observer might have said. But Jenny knew better than to call herself a Drag-Queen, she wasn't dressed up to entertain anybody except herself. She was in the right place, but running just a bit early. Ordering a small Oreo blizzard, she took a seat in the booth and waited for the clock to strike ten.

Jenny knew what the other girls looked like from their profile pictures on the web-site. She didn't think it'd be difficult to identify them. Jessica entered first, Jenny admired her pictures before on the site because she looked so positively feminine. She was dressed appropriately for a woman in her early 30's and also blended amazingly well. Neither of them noticed Katie until she sat down at the table and said hello cheerfully. She was the epitome of femininity, and pulled off the early 20's-emo-girl look better than some real women. Jenny had to closely examine her before she could tell Katie wasn't actually a GG.

The three gurls sat for a while, waiting for Nessa and her unnamed friend to show. Aside from their on-line friendship they were strangers to each other. A few minutes passed before Jenny's pink, disposable cell phone gave her a text message alert. Her good phone, the apple i-phone at home, was 'Jerry's' and for business use only. Jenny respected this simple boundary, and loaded up a pre-paid, pink piece of crap phone for herself to use until something better became available. The text was from Nessa.

“Hey girl, sorry but I'm running late. I'll meet you at the club, you 3 go on without me.”

Jenny felt disappointed and suspicious all at once. Disappointment sprang from wanting to meet Nessa, whose pictures on the CD boards were incredible. Jenny hoped one day she could look that good, but she wasn't as naturally feminine as Nessa appeared to be. The suspicion arose from the text itself. 'How did she know all three of us showed up?' she thought. This whole meeting was her idea, and now that she got us all out here she was going to be running late.
 
*          *          *
 
(Moments earlier, a mechanical box squeaks to life in a parking lot, “Thank you, drive through.”)

Two shady women in a black BMW rolled down their window and peered inside the drive-thru portal. Vanessa took the half-tray of peanut butter frosty's from the clerk and paid him without ever looking in his direction. Her eyes instead focused in on the three cross-dressers at a booth, barely in her line-of-sight. It was them, the ones she'd been expecting.. 'Nessa,' her on-line alias, lured them here using an Internet forum that catered to cross-dressers. It was the first time she had seen them in person, and she had to admit they were good at what they did. Three of the best she'd ever seen as far as passing was concerned. That special quality in them, which Vanessa recognized from their profile pictures, might mark them as potential pack-sisters. Tonight was like sorority rush night for Gamma-Gamma-Werewoman, and Vanessa was rush chairwoman.

“Let's go in and get this over with.” Heather said unenthusiastically. To her this was work. It was becoming a boring routine. Heather hadn't even bothered to look up and establish visual contact with her quarry.

“I thought, maybe we could meet them at the club.” Vanessa said cautiously. She knew Heather hated changing plans mid-op. 'She could be so un-flexible at times!' Vanessa told herself.

“Didn't you tell them to meet you at the Dairy Queen?” Heather asked, sounding annoyed. “Do you want to piss them off? And me?” the annoyance now bordered on anger. “Cause if that's the case, well done.”

“Geez, chill! They're not going to be pissed, Heather. I'm just meeting up with them later.” Vanessa looked prettier to Heather when she was being defensive. Vanessa knew it too, she secretly wondered if Heather pushed her buttons just for that reason sometimes. “Besides, do you want to meet up with a trio of cross-dressers under the track lighting of a Dairy Queen? Don't you think that might give us away?” Vanessa reasoned with sound logic here, and Heather seldom objected to that.

Heather found herself agreeing. “You're right, the lighting at the club is dimmer, we could probably pass for cross-dressers in there. But not in DQ. Especially in front of gurls who know what to look for.” Heather fell silent for a split second. “Here's an idea, if we wait for them to have a couple drinks at the club before approaching, there's even less of a chance they'll read us.” Heather's idea was not merely a suggestion, Vanessa could tell.

Something about their plan seemed ironic to both of Heather and Vanessa. Cross-dressers usually tried to pass as women, here two women were trying to pass as cross-dressers. Well, two werewomen anyway. They'd both been to Queen Anne's Revenge before, it was a good place to spot and approach potential recruits for the pack. Tonight though, they needed to blend in with the CD crowd in order to evaluate the latest batch of potential recruits. They didn't want to reveal themselves too early, or they'd have three cross-dressers on their hands and knees begging to be turned. Or running for the hills screaming all the way. They had to prove themselves first.

Vanessa pressed 'send' on her phone, a message was en-route to a contact named 'Jenny.'
 
*          *          *
 
(Emily's car was in motion. It contained one passenger, and as luck would have it, a driver too.)

“We're on our way there, and you still can't tell me?” I begged Emily to reveal our destination once more.

“We'll be there in a minute, you'll just have to wait.” came Emily's reply. She knew the anticipation was killing Erin, but she enjoyed toying with her new sister.

“Fine, be that way.” I pouted.

Her car wound its way through the dark streets towards the brighter, central business district. The buildings were getting bigger, and the sidewalks more crowded with people. When the vehicle finally stopped moving, we were parked in an empty lot, behind a Dairy Queen.

“This is the mysterious, ' place you always wanted to go' that you told me about? Dairy Queen? Wow, thanks.” I said in my 'just kidding' voice.

Emily picked up on my jovial tone. “No silly, there.” She placed her hand on my shoulder, and gently turned my body to the right, pointing to a building across the street. “Queen Anne's Revenge is a local T-club, although Dairy queen makes a mean Oreo blizzard.” she winked as we briefly made eye-contact.

I was silent for a moment. I wasn't sure why she'd call the T-club a place I always wanted to go. Scanning the sidewalk in front of Queen Anne's Revenge I saw a line out the door. T-gurls, cross-dressers of the MtF and FtM variety, transvestites, pre-ops and post-ops, all terms which fit under the trans-gender umbrella were represented in the line out the door. Even though I was not sure what Emily meant, I was curious enough to try it out. After what I had been through, this new frontier presented to me wasn't daunting in the slightest. After a long, awkward pause, I spoke. “Alright, I'm game.” I started walking towards the line of T-gurls without waiting for my companion.

Emily smiled.
 
*          *          *
 
(Some time later, 3 T-gurls crossed a busy street, nearly 150 more T-gurls waited on the other side.)

Jenny, Jessica and Katie made their way across the street and lined up to enter the club. When they arrived at the door, the bouncer took their money and ID's, and herded them inside. It suddenly occurred to Jenny how easily a T-club could be infiltrated by under-agers. This bouncer couldn't tell whose license belonged to whom, and he handed them all back to Jenny in a pile. It was obvious 'Biff' here was easily fooled by some cosmetics and a wig. Jenny returned her friends licenses without looking at their male names, she didn't want to know them. Male names are widely understood to be 'need to know basis' information, referring to them as anything other than Jessica and Katie was bad form indeed. It was a matter of respect amongst the trans-gendered.

The hall behind the front door was long and dark, lit only by strips of floor lighting attached to the base-boards. Inside the club, different colored lights swirled around the walls and floor, seeming to follow the rhythm of the music. As her group made their way towards a table, Jenny took a look at the patrons surrounding her. T-gurls of all descriptions were inside, some GG's were present too. Alone in a quiet corner, some drabbed out admirers were pounding through some liquid courage, hoping to strike up a conversation with an exotic T-gurl. They were a feature of the landscape common to every T-club, but Jenny never paid them any mind. Scanning the crowd on the dance floor, Jenny saw a range of generations getting down together. Some dancing faces in the looked older, others younger and naturally some looked better than others.. Jenny blushed with pride, her group was in the top five percent in terms of appearance. If Nessa ever got here, their stock would rise higher yet.

“I wonder if 'Tranny-Granny will be here tonight.” said Jessica as they made their way through the crowd.

“Odds are she will. She's never missed a night to my knowledge. Every time I've been here, she just sits at her stool from open to close. It's sad, like she's waiting for someone.” Katie answered. “But I hope I'm out and about at her age.”

“Who is 'Tranny-Granny.'” asked Jenny looking puzzled.

“She's this crazy old cross-dresser, and when I say old we're talking ninety, give or take a year.” Katie explained. Of the two other girls in the group, she seemed to know the most about this place. “She rarely speaks to anybody, but when she does it's in a strange accent.” Jenny was glad to be here with someone who knew the place so well.

“And some people say she can see the future.” Jessica interjected. It appeared that she was also familiar with the club, and its unusual patron. “She reads people's fortunes.”

This piqued Jenny's curiosity.

“That's true, but she's selective about who she speaks to. Kinda stuck up, you know?” Katie continued. “When I tried to talk to her once, she just said, 'Galang bout yuh business.' I never tried to get her to read my fortune after that.” It didn't seem to bother Katie in the least.

“What is she, West-Indian?” Jenny inquired about Katie's sudden accent impression. Jenny had an affinity for language and accents, she enjoyed hearing them in person, on the phone or on television. Something about the way foreigners seemed to sing as they spoke struck her as fascinating.

“I guess that's what it is, sounds kinda Jamaican'ish.” Jessica answered before Katie could.

“How do you know?” Katie asked in a surprised voice.

“She read my fortune one night.” Jessica revealed.

“Shut-up!” Katie said, sounding playful and incredulous at once. “What did she say?”

“She said some mumbo jumbo about 'Babylon,' whatever that means. I could barely hear her.” Jessica revealed. “With her soft voice and that strong accent, I tried to be polite but I barely caught a word.”

The topic of conversation shifted away from the strange person called 'Tranny-Granny' as the cocktail waitress approached to take orders. The service was quick, and as the three gurls sipped their cocktails, they took turns complimenting the appearance of the other two. Compliments on feminine presentation are common ice breakers amongst cross-dressers. Jenny loved to talk shop, trade tips and secrets. Eventually the conversation moved along to their outfits themselves. Questions like, 'Your (fill in the clothing article here) looks awesome on you, where did you get it?' peppered the conversation at this point. Jenny loved to dish about the bargains she found, and the CD friendly stores that she visited.

The group seemed to forget all about meeting up with Nessa and her anonymous friend as their banter continued. Soon the gurls hit the dance floor, piling their heels and purses in the middle of the triangle formed by their bodies. Jenny always enjoyed dancing, but while dressed it was a natural high for her. They were careful to keep an appropriate distance, in the conversation it came out that both Katie and Jessica were married. Jenny was also attracted to women only, so the dancing wasn't intended to attract a mate. It was just dance therapy.

But dancing in all those layers was thirsty work, so after shaking it with her new friends for a number of songs, she wandered up to the bar alone to get a glass of water. Time to re-hydrate from the alcohol and perspiration.
 
*          *          *
 
(Moments earlier, high up in the balcony of Queen Anne's Revenge)

Heather and Vanessa sat together at their usual table. From this vantage, they were free to observe the dance floor below, scanning aura's and occasionally going in for a closer look at an interesting or anomalous one. It was a great place to hone one's skills, a T-club was a werewoman training ground of sorts. Down below, the three gurls Vanessa and Heather were here to observe sat at a table by themselves, no doubt talking about one another's clothes, shoes, wigs and other accessories.

“They're heading to the dance floor now, should we go down and make introductions?” Vanessa asked Heather. She'd gone to such trouble to lure these three out tonight. Actually, Katie and Jessica agreed to meet quickly with no hesitation. They even talked about past visits to this very club. But Jenny seemed uncertain up until the very last moment. Vanessa had written her off, but was pleasantly surprised by a message Jenny sent just after moon-rise. Jenny was somewhat skittish in her on-line personality, and Vanessa couldn't shake the feeling that if she didn't get a good look at Jenny's aura tonight, she'd never get another chance.

“Sure, lets...” Heather trailed off mid-sentence. She was staring in the direction of the balcony entrance “Well, well... look at what we have here.” Heather pointed towards Emily and Erin, hand in hand, making their way towards a quiet table in the back. Neither of them seemed noticed Heather and Vanessa.

Heather half covered her mouth and spoke softly in the direction of her toadie Vanessa. “Looks like that day-walker b&%$# is still breaking her in.” Only in these guarded moments would Heather and Vanessa dare to refer to Emily as 'that day-walker b&%$#.' It was their private name for her, born out of intense jealousy directed at her ability to live in one gender. It also infuriated Heather to see that although they were a good 50 yards apart, she could see Erin's beaming smile.

On the one hand, that's precisely what Heather wanted. The more Erin enjoyed her time with Emily, the faster she'd undergo her conversion into a day-walker. With each enjoyable experience as a woman, 'Erin' would gain ground over 'Aaron.' Little by little he'd cede control to her, all leading up to an unconditional surrender to his inner female. That's when Heather would take what she needed from her.

On the other hand, it didn't go too well last time when Heather attempted to engage her plan with Emily. After meeting 'Emile' here on that fateful night all those years ago, Heather recognized his potential right away. She spared no effort in seducing him, using every trick she knew to get him to take her bait. He had a stronger will than most. Even after she summoned his feminine energy to talk in 'Emile's' place, 'Emily' begged Heather not to turn her. Both her masculine and feminine side were very much in love with their wife and cared deeply for their daughters. As much as 'Emile' wanted to become a woman, he wanted to be a father and husband more. But Heather would not be denied, she turned 'Emile' with a bite despite his pleas.

Luckily for Heather, Emily seemed to have incomplete knowledge of her turning. Only bits and pieces of her memories from that night ever resurfaced, probably because the event was so traumatic and painful. Emily did remembered Heather was the one who'd bitten her. So to fill in the blanks, Heather engineered a cover-up story to make it seem as though it wasn't her fault. Heather told Emily that she herself had just been turned, and didn't realize what she was doing. Of course it was a bogus statement, she'd been changing for years by that point and knew precisely what she wanted. But Heather sold her story well, and promised to make it up to a despondent Emily. That's about the time Heather started to organize her pack.

But when the time came to take what she needed from Emily, Heather hesitated. The overwhelming guilt she felt over 'Emile's' loss of wife and family prevented Heather from acting. She'd made a mistake with Emily, a move she would not repeat with Erin.

“Why don't you go down alone, focus on the one you called, 'Jenny.'” Heather seemed distant as she spoke to Vanessa. “Even from here I can see she's got what it takes. Besides, you said the other two are married, and you know the rules.” The rule to which she was referring, which forbade pack-sisters from converting married TG's, was insisted upon by Emily as a pre-condition to her joining the pack. Her eyes were locked on Emily and Erin the entire time she thought and spoke. “Get Jenny out of here fast, I'll go distract our sisters.”

“Whatever, go play with your new toy.” Vanessa sounded hurt. Even though she presented a tough facade, down deep she was a big softy. But it was useless to object, Vanessa reasoned. Heather was clearly growing more powerful if she could read Jenny's aura cold from this distance. So Vanessa jealously watched Heather glide across the upper mezzanine, while she herself headed towards the stairs.
 
*          *          *
 
(Moments earlier, as a parched Jenny, approaches the bar...)

Jenny walked up to the least crowded section of the bar. It happened to be on the far right side of the room, where several stools in a row stood vacant. As she finished her approach, she found herself standing to the left of an elderly looking African-American gurl. Deep creased wrinkles and faded irises betrayed her advanced age. She even wore a gray wig. Jenny knew right away that it must be the fabled, 'Tranny-Granny.'

“Oh excuse me.” Jenny said to the 'old-goat' beside her. “I'm just here for a glass of water.” Her neighbor was silent. “Don't you just love it here?” Jenny continued, eager to hear her infamous accent. But again no answer came. “I do.” Jenny answered her own question at last.

“Chicken merry, hawk deh is near.” the octogenarian gurl warned, pointing up to the balcony level across the room as she spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. And her accent was no phony baloney, Miss Cleo saying, 'Cyall meh now!' it was legit.

Somehow, Jenny understood the strange words. “I think I understand, are you telling me I'm in danger?” Jenny asked somewhat incredulously. Her old neighbor nodded yes. “In danger from someone up there?” Jenny pointed towards the upstairs level. The mysteriously captivating Rastafarian-woman kept nodding. It was hard to believe. Jenny had no known enemies, and 'Jerry' was nice to everybody he met. “What sort of danger?” Jenny asked to be sure.

“Meh sorry meh dawta, no cyan tell. Trouble no set like rain.” quoth the ancient one cryptically. Her voice seemed to strain the more she spoke. Jenny's psychic was tacitly admitting the limitations of her gift, revealing that she couldn't tell what form the trouble heading her way would take. Peering into the future was not as simple as looking at dark, summer clouds and predicting rain. Her faded irises locked onto Jenny's own baby blues.

Somewhat mesmerized by her powerful gaze, Jenny pondered the meaning of her strange words. “So I won't even see the danger coming?” Jenny puzzled over the contents of the old clairvoyants vision. She seemed to be revealing her prophecy in a series of proverbs rather than spelling it out for Jenny. Perhaps it was her only mode of communication. It was equally possible that she was just some crazy, old bitty. But Jenny was always fascinated by the supernatural, and this conversation positively reeked of the occult.

'Tranny-Granny's' faded irises penetrated deeply into Jenny's soul as she leaned in close.. Reaching out to take the younger gurl by the hand, the old Jamaican prepared to speak again. This time, her voice possessed a tired quality, but her body language displayed a good deal of urgency. “What sweet nanny goat a go run his belly.” Her Jamaican patois was beautiful to hear, even though it had faded to a raspy whisper. Yet somehow Jenny tuned it in clearly over the thudding music around them. The kindly geriatric released her trembling grip on Jenny's hand and broke eye contact. She sat silent like Chief Sitting Bull, staring intently at the stairs leading up to the balcony. At what, Jenny could not see. She appeared to be visibly weaker than she'd been moments ago. Although she spoke in riddles, it was clear that she possessed great wisdom.

If Jenny correctly understood the last proverb of the series, it was also cautionary in nature. She thought deeply for a moment. If a goat ate only foods he considered sweet, it would ruin his belly. It was the equivalent of saying, 'What seems good now might actually be bad later.'

The bartender approaching to take her order cut off Jenny's train of thought. In a moment, she returned with Jenny's refreshing ice-water. Sipping from the glass, her mind raced back to the riddle she'd been presented with. She thought perhaps another hint would help her figure it out. But looking to her right she saw only an empty, undisturbed stool. Jenny had only diverted her attention for seconds. Either this 'Tranny-Granny' was deceivingly fast for her age, or Jenny had just experienced a hallucination.

“Hey there sexy!' a high, feminine voice behind Jenny stole her attention from the empty stool.

Spinning around, Jenny found herself face to face with Nessa. She looked even more beautiful than her photos, and although 'Jerry' was 100% hetero-sexual, she found herself attracted to this expert dresser. “Oh, hi Nessa, the gurls are over there dancing...” Jenny reached up to point. She was cut off.

Vanessa gently pulled Jenny's arm back to her side, and locking eyes with the gurl said, “Forget about them, I came here tonight to see you.”

Her gaze was intense, as intense as any stare-down Jenny ever engaged in. But it was a sexual intensity, one of mutual attraction. She felt like prey before a mighty predator. Without even thinking about her purse and shoes on the dance floor with her gurlfriends, Jenny found herself taking Vanessa's arm and following her towards the main entrance.
 
Part 16

(At a cozy table for two near the back of the balcony at Queen Anne's Revenge)

'The T-club is a trip,' I thought taking my seat across from Emily. I couldn't wipe the perma-grin off my face. It was a friendly atmosphere which helped me to relax, even though a small part of me still felt apprehensive about my surroundings. I wasn't sure what we were doing in here. “I still don't get it, Emily.” I admitted to my companion.

“Take a look around. Tell me, what do you see?” Emily didn't appear to have many answers for me tonight.

I scanned the room again, taking in the whole scene. I wanted to provide a good description to my interrogator. I rather felt like Daniel-San in the Karate Kid, with Emily playing a young and beautiful Mr. Myagi.. I wanted to answer my Sensei correctly. “I see a bunch of men suffering from various degree's of gender-identity-disorder. Most of them seem to be MtF cross-dressers. I see a group of creepy men in the far corner, I guess they are curious, or here to admire. There's some transsexual women in various groups, and a gang of FtM's staking claim to the back-bar.” I looked up for her approval, having read up on my TG terminology I was sure I'd accurately described the scene.

But Emily's expression reflected her inner disappointment. “You're over-thinking it. Look again.” Her tone was forgiving, but stern enough so I'd know to take her assignment seriously.

I'd looked the place over twice, once on the way in and again when Emily asked me to. But I humored my new mentor and examined my surroundings for a third time. Unlike the first cursory glances, on this attempt I focused in on the faces of the patrons below. Smiles lit up every countenance I scanned. On the dance floor, grinning faces bounced around like rolling waves on a rough sea.. At the bar, the the customers waiting to be served and even the weeded employees behind the counter all wore a pleasant expression. “They're all so...so happy.” I said after a pause.

As I answered, Emily's eyes lit up. She could sense an 'Ah -ha' moment brewing in her eager pupil. “And why do you think that is?” she asked, like a teacher demanding an expanded explanation.

“If I had to guess” and I did, “I'd say it's because they're being themselves?” The upward inflection at the end of my statement revealed the uncertainty I felt. “They're happy to feel like...and be treated like women.”

“You're on the right track.” Emily encouraged me. “Keep digging.”

I thought for a second. “They're happy to be themselves in front of others who are like them.” I felt confident in my answer now.

Emily seemed satisfied with my reply. “And could that help explain your own present happiness?” Emily posed a good question. “You've had a beaming grin plastered across your face since we got here. Don't you feel a sense of belonging?”

I really couldn't deny it, but what she was saying didn't make sense completely. “If I understand you right, what you're saying is I like it here because I'm... trans-gendered?” I wanted to make sure we understood one another.

Emily nodded yes. "You'd have found it sooner or later, we all do."

“Well yeah, since my run in with Heather. But before that I was all man.” I protested.

Emily countered my claim gently. “Erin didn't just fall out of the sky. She came from somewhere.” she reveled in a soothing voice. “Somewhere along the way, you just buried her under Aaron. Search your memory, I think you'll find that Erin goes back a lot further than last month.”
 
*          *          *
 
(In a seepy toned flashback sequence, the sound of a newsman introducing President Ronald Reagan filled a middle class living room. It was the Twelfth day of June, the year was 1987.)

The shades were tightly drawn throughout the entire house. The living-room was dark save for the dim flicker of a General Electric brand color television. Next to the highly advanced, American made contraption sat a cheap, plastic toy from a turn-quarter machine. A small gold sticker with black lettering indicated the low-tech toy was 'Made in China.'

There was an audience of one for Mr. Reagan's performance that afternoon, and his viewer didn't seem to be paying close attention. Eight year olds seldom follow politics. Instead, young Aaron paraded around the faintly illuminated room, dressed head to toe in clothes he had taken out of his mothers closet. It was a fun game he'd recently discovered, though something told him that it must be done in secrecy.

'Latch-key kid' was one of those 1980's buzz words that the media tossed around, and Aaron fit their description. Every day after school, Aaron let himself into his house with a key hidden under a rock in the back yard. Aaron's parents weren't abusive or neglectful for doing this, half the kids on the block lived the same way. It was common in working class neighborhoods where both parents held jobs. So every day after school, Aaron had a couple hours to himself before his parents returned from work.. It was summer now, and that only meant more alone time. Lately he had been using this time to play his fun, new dress-up game.

But on this occasion, as Mr. Reagan began to speak from a podium on the streets of some European capitol, Aaron heard the sound of his father's heavy footsteps coming down the hall. It seemed that his dad left work early that day. The lad was mortified at the prospect of being caught in the clothes he was wearing, but froze up in his place. In seconds, his father stood before him. The man Aaron called 'dad' wore a look of shock and disappointment, clearly visible even to the eight year old.

Aaron's father smoldered, thinking about the parenting style he and his wife selected for raising their son. He'd never struck the boy, something his own father had done to him many times when he was young. He and his wife were a progressive couple in a lot of ways, but this was too much. As a proud father he had made plans for his son's life. He developed certain expectations, hopes and dreams for his only heir. But most of all, he didn't want to see his boy have a tough life and be ridiculed by others. A strong reaction would likely scare this out of the boy, and only a strong reaction would do...

Aaron suffered a black-eye that afternoon at the hands of his enraged father. After being struck, he was forced to go to his room, get changed immediately, and remain there until summoned. Alone behind his door, he cried from the physical and emotional pain he'd endured. But the tears stopped falling. The boys expression hardened with resolve and his mind went blank. He could hear the television through his closed bedroom door as he removed his mothers clothing for the last time.

“General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”

Ronnie and I never did agree. Here he was trying to tear down a wall the very day I'd decided to build one.
 
*          *          *
 
(Back at Queen Anne's Revenge in the present day, October 3rd 2009)

My incomplete memory of that day was whole again as though the fog of time had lifted, if only for a moment. I remembered the black eye, it was the only time my father ever hit me. But somewhere along the line I managed to block out the reason behind the beating. Probably because the incident was never discussed again. I now knew Erin had been a part of me since I was very young, though that day in 1987 caused me to wall her off.

My memory seemed to belong to both Erin and Aaron at once. If that was the case, if the two sides of me shared memories, perhaps what Heather and Emily both said was true. Erin had been lurking within me all along, waiting to emerge when the time was right. In a flash of recall, the way Emily described this club came flooding back, 'It's a place you always wanted to go.' I now realized why I felt so happy to be here, and yet slightly apprehensive at the same tine. I was happy being true to myself, but feared the potentially dreadful consequences. But understanding that nobody would suddenly appear and punish me for being myself, I felt that apprehension melt away like snow in springtime.

I'd figured out that Aaron and Erin were just two names for the same person. The wall within came tumbling down.
 
*          *          *
 
(Just a little ways across the room)

Heather slinked her way through a maze of tables, chairs and waitresses on her way to distract Emily and Erin. Neither of her dupes saw her as she approached, even when she stood right before them. “Who let you two in here?” she said playfully sliding up next to Erin on her side of the booth.

“Heather. How's the moon treating you tonight?” there was a passive-aggressive tone to Emily's question.

“Like a lady ought to be treated, Em.” Heather said casually. “More importantly, how is it treating our newest sister?” she turned to me and asked with a great deal of affection.

“Fine I guess.” I thought I'd be happy to see Heather again. Instead I found myself angry with her for leaving me no way to make contact. Reading me like an open book, Heather picked up on the vibe.

“I'm glad to hear that, Erin.” Heather sounded sincere. “You might be wondering why I didn't contact you this month. I should probably explain.” She paused to make sure she had my attention. “Or maybe Emily would be better off telling you?” she gestured to my 'date' across the table.

“You want me to explain my role in our sisterhood to her?” Emily asked, I sensed tension between them. Emily was glaring at Heather now.

Heather returned the glare, “Or I could do it, either way.”

To me it was like watching two gunslingers in a stare-down. Emily spoke next without flinching.

“That's OK, I tell it so much better than you.” Emily was undaunted. “See, Heather here asked me to keep an eye on you last month. Us bumping into each other in the mall wasn't mere coincidence. I saw you go into the theater too, and I kept an eye on you after you emerged as Erin. It was a full moon night, all the other sisters would have been forced to change. Only I could safely keep an eye on you.” Emily's confession sounded remorseful.

My heart sank into my stomach. “You were spying on me? Why didn't you tell me earlier?” I asked in a wobbly, meek voice. “Why didn't you pull me out of that theater?”

Emily did her best to answer. “I thought my cover was blown when you saw me at Sam Goody. After that, if I tried to pull you out of that theater, you might have resisted and caused a scene.” Emily sounded ashamed. “Letting you change in that theater was my best option at the time.”

I was satisfied with Emily's explanation, and suspicious about Heather's intentions. Why had she brought this up? Still, I had a few more questions for Emily. “You could have told me later, after we met at the club. Or any of the times I saw you throughout the month. Why didn't you?”

“Part of my responsibility to the pack is to help new sisters cope. Since my appearance never changes, a lot of times the new girls find it easier to talk to me during their dormant phase.” Emily continued. “So I take it upon myself to train them in our ways. I prepare all of our new girls the way I'm preparing you, Erin. I didn't want our relationship to start out on a suspicious footing.”

“I get it, I'm just another trainee to you.” I was hurt. I had strong feelings for Emily, I thought we had a serious connection. And here I was being told she was simply training me like she'd done with so many others before me.

Emily reached across the table between us and grabbed my hands. “But there's something special between us Erin, please believe me...”

I pulled my hands away from Emily, causing her to trail off at the end of her sentence. “You should have told me last month. I thought I could trust you.” The venomous sting of her betrayal hurt me badly.
 
*          *          *
 
(Heather watched the conversation develop according to her wishes)

Deep within the confines of Heather's over-sized but stylish purse, the almost imperceptible vibration of a cell phone caught it's owners attention. Nobody else at the table noticed. Heather knew it was Vanessa, texting from the parking lot to say mission accomplished. “Well, I can see you two have plenty to discuss...” Heather looked casually at her watch, “...and I just realized I'm running late for an appointment. Please excuse me.” Emily and Erin were silent for a second. Standing up to leave, Heather smiled triumphantly as she heard Emily and Erin resume their strained conversation. “Dance puppets, dance.” Heather said aloud softly to herself.
 
*          *          *
 
(Emily and Erin resume their awkward conversation)

I was watching Heather walk away as Emily resumed pleading with me to forgive her deception. I'd forgiven her already, but my suspicion of Heather left me sick to my stomach. Emily's loud, squeaky voice faded to a 'Wah-wah' noise, kind of like the one Charlie Brown's teacher made. Still looking in Heather's direction, I heard her voice clearly though softly. I was not intended to hear these words.

“Dance puppets, dance” Heather said from a distance as she walked away.

My 'Dumbo-ears' that I noticed earlier while drying my hair could apparently be focused like twin satellites. I didn't have bionic ears, the fact that they stuck out ever so slightly just happened to pick up Heather's faint voice. If I was suspicious before, now I was positively convinced something was up with Heather. I didn't know what though, and so I couldn't let on that I heard Heathers words. So I pretended to argue with Emily. “How dare you treat me like some sort of criminal!” I said accusingly, interrupting Emily's apology.

I wasn't listening to her frantic reply, I was too focused on Heather who seemed to be leaving the club in a hurry. But I had to maintain my ruse. “How dare you say that to me!” I shouted, just in case Heather was still listening in.

“Erin, that doesn't make any sense, are you even listening to me?” I heard Emily ask. When I didn't answer or even look at her, she continued to blather out apologies. From the sound of it, she was on the brink of tears. But as I watched Heather stroll into the hallway leading out of the club, I ended my charade.

I interrupted Emily's flurry of apologies. “Em, listen.” she fell silent.. “I'm not actually angry with you. I feel the connection between us too.” Emily looked baffled. I'd went from fuming mad to totally civil with zero notice. “I think Heather is up to something, and I wanted her to see us arguing.”

“I don't understand, Erin...” I interrupted before Emily could finish.

“Think about it, both of us were sitting up here, having a good time, and suddenly Heather appears. Moments later, we're arguing and she's leaving.” Emily seemed to understand. “Besides, Heather is the one who asked you to spy on me, and we hadn't even met when she asked you to do it.” Emily nodded in agreement and I continued, “And as she walked away, I heard her say something I wasn't supposed to hear.”

“What was it, Erin?” I had Emily's undivided attention. She'd always been secretly suspicious of Heather.

I cleared my throat, “She said, 'Dance puppets, dance.'”

Part 17

“We're parked over here.” Vanessa said, pointing to a nearby alley-way. For the first time, she noticed her companion was barefooted. But that didn't seem to bother Jenny as she made her way down the side-walk, arm in arm with Vanessa.

As the pair made their way, Jenny noticed something strange. The illumination provided by street lights and the full moon above set differently upon Vanessa. She didn't have any give-aways in the club, but Jenny expected to see a kink in her armor out here. Nothing presented itself though. Vanessa looked like a real girl!

Looking ahead a couple of slabs down the sidewalk, Jenny spotted a sickly looking, black cat walking across their path. The moment she noticed it, the mangy critter froze and craned it's head up at Jenny. It stared at her with faded, cloudy eyes for a second. Then the pathetic creature continued it's journey, disappearing into the bushes on the other side of the path.

Jenny felt a chill running down her spine. Something here was not right, though she couldn't put her finger on what. Before she could stop herself, 'Jerry' blurted out,“You're not a cross-dresser, are you Nessa?” She was terrified of how her friend would react to her male voice.

“Not exactly.” Vanessa admitted, locking eyes with Jenny. “I'm something better.” The gurl seemed to be piecing things together, it was time to improvise. “And you can be too, if you come with me. Won't you come home with me, Jenny?” Vanessa spoke seductively as she wrapped her arms around her prey. She was using her charms to seduce the gurl's male side, which seemed to perceive danger. If Vanessa could relax 'Jerry' enough to get him in the car, she could have her way with he and Jenny both. It seemed to be working.

Jenny felt the blood from her brain rushing lower, towards her securely tucked deformity. As it inflated slowly, she felt the uncomfortable tightness of the gaff, and her Veronica II shaper. She instantly wanted to be rid of them, 'Jerry' wanted access to this exotic woman. Jenny would soon be forced to oblige, and hand the reigns over to him. She didn't mind somehow, her inner boy deserved some tender loving. And opportunities with women as beautiful as Vanessa never came along for him.

Vanessa had Jerry right where she wanted him now, and quickly broke away from the embrace to fire off a quick text to Heather. She then hit the 'unlock' button on her key-chain, and a nearby black BMW lit up.

Jerry was terribly excited as he started towards the passenger door.

“Not there.” Vanessa corrected Jerry. “That one's taken.” She pointed to the tiny back-seat. “That's all you.”
 
*          *          *

Heather was glowing as she shuffled past the patrons on her way out of the club. She could hear Erin shouting as Emily struggled to apologize. Her quick thinking tonight allowed her to kill two birds with one stone. She'd kept her sisters busy so Vanessa could extract Jenny, and also managed to create somewhat of a rift between Emily and Erin. They'd patch it up soon enough, as day-walkers they were drawn to each other like opposite ends of a magnet. But the seed of doubt had been planted in Erin's mind. With help, that seed would germinate into a mighty oak. One day, when Emily most needed Erin to trust her, that lingering doubt would influence Erin's decisions.

Standing on the curb, Heather awaited Vanessa's black BMW. According to her sisters text, Jenny and she were fetching the car from the alley around the block. Heather had been doing this for quite a long time, and she thanked the moon for preserving her youth and beauty. It was Heather's favorite side-effect of being a werewoman. Though not immortal, they tended not to age past a point in their late twenties, and their life-span was far longer than an average humans. She thought wistfully about all of the recruiting activity she'd engaged in over the years. As she waited, Heather was reminded of her own turning. Casting her gaze out towards the busy street before her, it started to resemble memory lane...
 
*          *          *

An embarrassed eighteen year old boy named Heath entered a public library, proceeding directly to the psychology section. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and exactly how to go about his search for the information he desired. Peering over his shoulders, he made sure nobody was looking. Heath's quest for knowledge of self was shrouded in secrecy, and for good reason. If anybody knew what he was looking up, Heath would have been ridiculed in the best case scenario, and hooked up to an electro-shock aversion therapy machine in the worst case. His heart was racing as the moment of truth approached. Once he was sure nobody was observing him, he quietly but swiftly lifted a book titled, Christine Jorgensen: A Personal Autobiography' from it's place on the shelf.

Heath already held a book which was similar in size, and deftly removed the jacket from each of the hard-cover volumes. He then switched them, so it would appear to anybody who strolled past that he was reading Upton Sinclair's, The Jungle. Then he re-shelved the tome shrouded in the Jorgensen book-jacket, and found a nearby chair. His secret mission was going well.

The autobiography he held was about a person who felt she was a woman trapped in a man's body. That's how Heath had felt as long as he could remember. So this person decided to take steps to make her body and mind match one another. Heath heard about it in the newspaper, a lot of publicity surrounded it's release several years earlier. She ingested female hormones, first self administered which is a terrible idea for anybody. Later she continued with the assistance of trained, medical professionals. Her male body began to react and feminize itself, leading up to an operation in which his 'outie' was reformed into and 'innie.' It fascinated Heath, he never knew that sort of transformation was possible. He engrossed himself in the material. Reading intently, his eyes burned through the pages at a furious pace.

That's when he noticed another person in his quiet section. He seemed to stop in front of the same shelf Heath had just visited. As he watched in horror, a red haired man scanned the shelves in the same general area. What were the chances he was here for the Jorgensen book too? Heath felt his pulse quicken as the strange visitor did exactly what he hoped nobody would. The man confidently took the book from it's place on the shelf, and carried it to a nearby seat.

Heath felt his stomach knot up, he might be sick right then and there. He couldn't help but watch as this man opened the book, immediately puzzled by its contents. He looked at the cover, then at the title page inside. Then he took off the jacket.. He looked up and scanned the room around him, noticing Heath staring in his direction. Quickly averting his gaze, Heath looked down into the book in his hands. Tears were welling up in the corner of his eyes. He hoped the man would simply let this pass. Heath wished the stranger would be equally embarrassed and simply leave. But it was no use, the carrot topped man approached.

“What-cha reading?” he inquired, standing before the scared kid.

Heath swallowed hard, “The Jungle.” he answered nervously.

“I'll bet it's not what you were expecting, huh?” said the stranger, holding up the copy of The Jungle, unjacketed. It matched the jacket of the book Heath was holding.

He'd been busted, and Heath braced himself for the consequences. But they weren't what he expected.

“My name is Tim,” said the man standing before Heath, “and we should talk somewhere quiet. It will be getting dark soon.” The man named Tim then locked eyes with Heath, taking his hand and leading him out the front door of the public library. Heath didn't even bother straightening up the books they'd left behind.
 
*          *          *

As the sleek, black vehicle stopped in front of her, Heather opened the passenger door and ducked inside. Seeing Jenny in the back seat, Heather smiled in approval at Vanessa. “Well done, sister.” she said, closing the door behind her.

“Thanks Heather.” Vanessa was pleased with herself. Tonight she'd delivered in a big way. Vanessa wanted Heather to know that she could always be counted on.

There was no other conversation as the trio made their way back towards Vanessa and Heather's home. Jenny sat quietly in the back, staring out the windows with a blank expression on her face. 'Jerry' had almost seized the reigns from her in a moment of passion, but she was back now. The entire ride seemed to pass in a blur, and before she knew it Jenny was being herded out of the car by Heather.

Vanessa entered the upscale row-home first, ushering in Jenny and Heather behind her. The interior was decked out in mint condition, antique furniture. Everything looked expensive to Jenny. Even the picture frames. She recognized Heather and Vanessa in most of the photos, but others seemed to feature male faces, always the same two. Jenny hoped it wasn't their husbands.

“You might be wondering why some of these photographs feature women, and others are of men. I assure you, they're not jealous boyfriends or husbands.” Heathers comments seemed address Jenny's unspoken thoughts. “Why don't you... guess who they are.” Heather teased lightly.

“Ooh that'd be fun!” Vanessa said excitedly, looking in Jenny's direction.

“Are they your brothers?” Jenny asked hopefully. “Or some other male relative?”

“Nope.” Heather answered like she expected another guess in quick succession.

“Are they ex-boyfriends or platonic friends?” I inquired.

Heather nodded 'No.'

Jenny thought hard. “Are they pictures of your old selves, before hormones, FFS, electrolysis, and GRS?” Jenny had met a few transsexual women in her life. None kept pictures of their old male self on display in their homes, so she figured her answer was wrong even before Heather confirmed it.

“Close, but no cigar.” Heather chimed in once more.

“Then what? Some sort of magic? Did a spell change you from men into women?” Jenny had read stories about this sort of thing at a site called Top Shelf TG Fiction. It was one of her favorite sites, designed to entertain and sometimes arouse trans-people like her. 'But the stories involving magic were just made-up stories, weren't they?' Jenny found herself questioning reality itself.

“Ding ding ding, we have a winner!” Heather announced excitedly. “And we can share that magic with you.” she revealed, locking eyes with Jenny as she spoke. “You'd like that, Jenny. Wouldn't you?” Heather stared at Jenny as though she were the Great Kreskin.

“Great, either you're nuts, or I'm dreaming.” Jenny said, directing her words at Heather.

That was not the response she was expecting. Somehow, this gurl was capable of resisting Heather's formidable gaze.

“Lets try it my way, Heather.” Vanessa said seductively. She was unfastening her dress as she made her request. She slid the shoulder straps to the side, and began to slowly peel the garment off her amazing body.

Heather looked mildly annoyed. “Very well.” she gave her permission reluctantly.

Vanessa's dress dropped to the floor.. She took a mesmerized Jenny by the hand, leading her up the stairs to a bedroom. Heather followed behind. Once there, Vanessa fell backwards onto the bed, now clad in nothing but a bra and panties. Jenny couldn't break off the eye contact Vanessa suddenly established. She found herself completely captivated by the strange woman's erotic display.

When a cross-dresser poses provocatively in the mirror, they call it presenting. But as Nessa struck a number of pin up girl poses, shedding clothing as she went, the only word that came to mind for Jenny was, 'awesome.'

Jenny began to carefully disrobe as a now entirely nude Vanessa stood before her. Like earlier in the alley, Jenny felt 'Jerry' was very close to taking control. And like last time, she didn't mind. Vanessa helped remove her accessories, and soon the only evidence of Jenny was her glued-on breast-forms. The adhesive had lost it's power due to perspiration, time and gravity. They clung to his chest weakly after the bra was removed, and in a moment slid off his body hitting the floor with a muffled thud.

Vanessa maintained eye contact, but by now she was spread eagle on the bed, touching herself shamelessly. “Don't you... want to...feel what... I'm feeling?” she asked Jerry through impassioned moans. He nodded yes. “Then get over here... do what you've wanted to do to me since I first approached you in the club.”

Jerry didn't need to be told twice.

Heather hated to watch her sister work. Vanessa's specialty happened to be Jenny's weakness, seduction. In a lot of ways, Heather was the more powerful of the two, but Vanessa had a special knack for manipulating men. 'Jenny is doomed already,' Heather thought as she watched the boy side of their victim approach his inevitable fate. Heather knew she wasn't needed here. Quietly leaving the room, she was confident that Vanessa had the situation under control.

Heather made up her mind, she was going on a walk. She had a lot on her mind, most of all her interrupted stroll down memory lane. As Heather made her way down the sidewalk in front of her row-home, her mind was transported across time and space once more.
 
*          *          *
 

Heath found himself following Tim back to his house near the edge of town. They passed the afternoon talking about their shared desire to become women. Occasionally they spoke about other topics too. Tim was twenty-one years old, and had a lot in common with eighteen year old Heath. They liked the same comic books, listened to the same music and enjoyed the same kind of films. But as the afternoon faded into twilight, Heath's companion seemed to grow more and more anxious.

The reason for Tim's anxiety was simple, he was a werewoman and tonight was a full moon. Soon, Tim knew he'd be changing into Tina. Once that happened, she'd offer to turn her companion, Heath. It was a routine she had developed by practicing it many times.

Tim delighted in his recruiting approach; baiting public library's with a copy of the Jorgensen book, and waiting to see who picked it up. In every town he wandered to, this method helped him to identify potential sisters. After-all, it wasn't as though there were night-clubs and meeting places for trans-gendered people. 'That'll be the day' Tim told himself. He felt confident the boy before him tonight would accept the offer without hesitation. Heath's aura seemed to guarantee it.

When the transformation finally occurred, Heath was positively stunned. He sat speechless as the event unfolded. First, his host fell silent. A moment later, as Heath approached to make sure Tim was OK, the red-head began to tremble. Tim's already sparse body-hair slowly disappeared, and his skin seemed to smooth over everywhere as Heath watched. His new friend was shrinking rapidly, and his increasingly baggy clothing draped around him.

Tim began to moan in a high, feminine pitch. Heath was intrigued. His facial features softened in front of the boy, and his hair began to lengthen. Heath thought he saw the contour of Tim's body change in a decidedly feminine way, but his view was obscured by a layer of baggy clothing. There was no mistaking the twin lumps that seemed to sprout outwards from his chest, though. Their growth forced open the top buttons of his blue, Oxford shirt. Tim was changing into a woman right before Heath's eyes!

The tense, soon to be woman in the chair spoke in a high, feminine voice. “It's OK Heath... don't be... scared.” 'it' pleaded. “I'm not in any pain.” Whatever was happening to Tim seemed to be slowing down now. A woman wearing Tim's clothes now sat in the chair across from Heath. It looked like she was swooning and trying to catch her breath at once. A moment of silence punctuated by the new woman's heavy breathing passed.

It was Heath who broke the silence. “What just happened?!” he stammered.

“I turned into a girl, silly.” the woman that used to be Tim said in a pretty voice. “Isn't it keen?” she stood up and twirled around in front of Heath.

“How?” Heath had to know.

The strangely clad woman walked towards the open window, looking out towards the east. “It's the moon, it brings Tina to the surface.. I'm a werewoman, Heath.” Tina admitted with a smile.

“I'm aware of women too. What's all this about the moon now?” Heath was confused.

“A werewoman, you know, like werewolf except not hairy and violent.” Tina was walking up to Heath, unfastening the remaining buttons on her Oxford as she went. Heath could see her stiff, pointy nipples pressing against the fabric of the strained white t-shirt beneath. “Instead of fangs and claws, I grow these” Tina cupped her breasts in her hands through her shirt. “And instead of howling at the moon, I like to moan at it.” she continued. “But that's not the best part.” Tina said with a wink.

Heath went for the set up. “What is?” he asked. He was already under her spell.

Tina smiled wickedly, she had Heath right where she wanted him. “I can make you one too, would you like that, Heath?” she asked, never breaking her stare. She was unfastening her belt now.

A gulping sound came from Heath's throat. He tried to speak, but only a low, strangled growl emanated from his trachea. As Tina's pants and underwear dropped away, she pulled her white t-shirt over her head. Her breasts bounced into view, perfect hanging pendulums of woman-flesh topped with light, pink disc-like nipples greeted Heath's eyes. Her muff of pubic hair was as shockingly red as the hair on her head. It formed a feminine shaped, inverted triangle pointing to the floor.

Heath had never seen a naked woman live and in person before, just in his fathers dirty magazines. He never had much luck with the ladies romantically speaking, they all seemed to want to be his friend. Heath was aroused past the point of articulation, partly due to the woman before him, and partly due to the promises she made. “I want...but how?...” Heath managed to say at last.

“Relax, my boy. I'll be gentle with you.” she said.

“What do we do? Should I...” Heath felt Tina's index finger press into his lips.

Tina was 'shushing' him. “Just sit back, and let me do all the work.” she commanded..

Heath nodded.

Dropping to her knees, Tina removed the boy's P.F. Flier sneakers, and pulled them off his feet. Next she unfastened his belt-buckle, tugging open the fly button atop his jeans expertly. With the zipper safely down, Tina tugged at the base of Heath's jeans. Soon he was naked from the waist down.

Their eyes locked and Heath felt his 'spirits' rising.

“Why didn't you say something earlier?” Heath asked.

Tina straddled his lap, “Would you have believed me?” she asked rhetorically.

Heath felt a feminine hand reaching down, guiding his throbbing member towards the entrance of Tina's womanly opening. Heath felt the velvety, wet flesh slowly separating against his mushroom-tip, gradually swallowing his entire length. Tight, soft skin surrounded his shaft, and he heard a womanly moan escape his consort's mouth. Tina slowly rose and fell atop him, her breasts bobbing in time with her thrusts. It was Heath's first time with a woman though, and he didn't last long.

A few hours later, Heath was dressed and ready to go back home. His parents would worry if he ran too late. “So when will it happen?” asked the excited boy.

“On the first night of next months full moon.” Tina explained. “And the second and third night as well. Each and every month...” she continued. “....for the rest of your life.”

“Is there any way to forestall it, in case I can't get away from my family on one of those nights?” Heath asked hopefully.

“No. Once the sun has set, you have at most 40 minutes to one hour before the change starts..” Tina answered. “And once it has begun, there is no stopping it.” she warned. “Come to my house next month. Get here before sun-set, and I'll help guide you through your first shift.”

Heath agreed, and with a hug and kiss left the house and headed toward his own. The month passed quickly, and when Heath returned to Tim's house, just before sunset on the appointed night, there was no sign of him or Tina anywhere. Just a note.
 

*          *          *
 
“Dear Heath,
I'm sorry that I can't be here for your big night. I really wanted to see how you would turn out. But I fear I've been discovered and therefore I must move on. Small town life has many risks for our kind, so I am heading to the big city. I recommend you do the same as soon as you are able. Hopefully, our paths will cross again. Until then, enjoy your new gift.

XoXo,

Tina
 
*          *          *
 
A tear rolled down his cheek. Heath felt like the only person in the world that understood his yearnings had abandoned him. Heath never saw Tim or Tina again, but the note she left rested atop a book. With the message in hand, Heath could now see the title. The bright white letters against a dark black cover read, The New Werewoman Handbook..

Heath felt his body temperature rising, and shed some of his clothing. He was dripping with sweat. As he sat watching the moon grow higher in the night sky through the window of Tim's abandoned house, a tingling sensation began in his abdomen and slowly spread outwards. In few short minutes, Heather came into the world crying bitter tears of loneliness....
 

Part 18

(In the predawn hours of September 23rd, 2010; in Heath/Heather's bedroom.)

The moment of Heather's greatest triumph had arrived at long last. Erin had progressed to daywalker status far more rapidly than her predecessor. A little more than one year after being turned, Erin now found herself able to force a shift during daylight hours. She couldn't hold it for very long, but more time and experience would allow Erin to hold her female form indefinitely. Heather knew she had to act before that happened.

She and Erin were alone in her home, sitting upon her bed and facing one another. Their eyes locked and Heather leaned in close for a kiss. As their lips locked and tongue's swirled, Heather felt Erin's gentle grip across her waist. Her wandering hands reached the top of Heather's dress and tugged gently on its shoulder straps freeing her wonderful breasts. Within seconds, the two women were naked in a tender embrace in the center of the bed. Erin began kissing her way down Heather's flat stomach, her lips destination was no mystery.

In her conversations with Emily, she revealed to Heather that Erin liked to give pleasure first before receiving it herself. This arrangement suited Heather fine. After-all, she'd been patient for so long a few more moments were hardly a bother. Besides, this would only tire her quarry, and the more thoroughly exhausted her prey the easier Heather's task would be. So she leaned back and enjoyed the erotic sensation of Erin's index fingers softly separating her outer lips, and the gentle brush of her companions nose against her engorged clitoris. This was followed by several intense minutes where Erin licked and slurped around her lover's tiny, pink button. Heather was on cloud nine, her breathy moans seemed to confirm that.

Soon their positions were reversed, Erin laying on her back, and Heather planting a trail of kisses down her torso. When she arrived at Erin's midsection, Heather employed her own technique for pleasuring a woman with her mouth. Extending her tongue fully, she began to trace the alphabet around the top of Erin's lightly furred opening. As she formed her invisible letters, Heather began to shake her head ever so slightly. Craning her neck left to right and back again, varying her speed seemed to delight her lover.

Erin was moaning loudly now, seeming to approve of her Heather's skillful manipulations. Her eyes were shut tightly as she wailed louder and louder in expectation of the coming orgasm. Heather knew that now was the perfect time to take what she needed from her soon to be daywalker companion. Her eyes traveled to Erin's inner thigh, easily detecting the femoral artery beneath her smooth, hairless and somewhat pale skin. Without further delay, Heather forced her small, sharp canine fangs to extend fully before biting into the skin just above the crucial blood vessel. Like a mosquito biting a human, Heather's fangs didn't inflict any pain upon her host.

Erin hardly seemed to notice Heather's fangs penetrating her skin, instead reacting to the sudden cessation of pleasure. Looking down, she saw Heather's face had moved to the left a couple inches, and her lips seemed to be glued to her inner thigh. Erin felt dizzy as she spoke, "Heather...what are you doing? Why did...why'd you.. stop?" She had only just finished her sentence when a growing darkness began to take hold. It started with her peripheral sight, and gradually consumed Erin's entire field of vision. "What...you...doing...to me?" Her strength sapped, Erin's head tilted back, landing softly on a pillow behind her.

The toxin injected by Heather's razor sharp fangs caused this side-effect. She hadn't bitten many people in her life as a werewoman, but the few she did all reacted the same way. First a wave of dizziness set in, this was followed quickly by the victim falling unconscious. She was relieved the bite had the same effect as before, as all her previous bite victims were non-were's. In the past Heather had bitten in self defense or to convert a new sister, tonight her bite was for a different purpose altogether. With her switchover from werewoman to daywalker nearly complete, drinking Erin's blood would transmit her condition to whomever drank it. Unfortunately for Erin, Heather needed to drink her dry to ensure this happened.

Heather continued to imbibe this bloody tonic in large gulps, revolted by the act itself and wanting it to be over quickly. She watched in horror as Erin's limp body seemed to pale visibly with each sip. The unconscious girl's pulse began to slow until there was hardly a trace of one at all. In a matter of moments, Heather was finished and she climbed off of Erin's ghost-white, lifeless body.

And not a moment too soon. The rising sun behind Heather quickly filled the window of her bedroom. This time, instead of causing her to revert back to Heath, the warm, glowing disk had no effect whatsoever. Her plan was successful!

Heath awoke with a start, his room filled with the light of the morning sun and his body covered in sweat. "A dream," he said aloud to an empty room, "it was only a dream." A strange mixture of relief and despair filled Heath, relief that he was not yet a murderer, despair that he would be in less than one year. Since becoming a werewoman, Heath's dreams had become a window onto the future. Everything he dreamed about seemed to come to pass in waking life. Although he desperately wanted to live as a woman full-time, Heath wasn't sure he wanted it bad enough to kill. But this vision seemed to confirm that he would.

Heath spent decades reading and re-reading his copy of the New Werewoman Handbook: A Manual for the Newly Transgendered in an attempt to find another way forward, but there was none. Naturally Heath edited the copies distributed to new sisters, he didn't want them gaining knowledge of some of their more advanced powers. Only Vanessa had access to Heather's so-called 'Alpha Edition', and only because her loyalty was beyond reproach.

The smell of bacon frying in the pan wafted through the gap at the bottom of Heath's door jamb, distracting him from his thoughts. Vance was making breakfast for them both, tonight they had a pack meeting to run and they'd need their energy.

Two comfortably dressed women sat on opposite ends of a couch.

Emily and Erin resolved themselves to a quiet evening at home for the second night of the October moonset. Most of last night, and all afternoon before Aaron succumbed to the power of the full moon, they discussed Heather's strange behavior. Neither of them could figure out what was meant by her barely audible, 'Dance puppets, dance.' remark. But both women agreed that whatever Heather had planned, she was counting on the two of them fighting. Or at least being mistrustful of one another. They sat together on Erin's couch, watching rented copy of He's Just Not That Into You but barely paying attention to the action on screen.

"But what if...nevermind." Emily looked thoughtful for a second.

"No please, go on." I encouraged my new BFF. I was much more interested in what she had to say than I was in the crummy movie I'd rented. It's ironic, but even as a woman in body, mind and soul I didn't much care for 'chick flicks.'

"What if... just maybe... Heather intended for us to hear the remark?" Emiy asked. "If that's the case, we might be playing right into her hands..."

I hadn't even considered the possibility until now. Reasoning quickly, I said, "Either way, we should present a united front at the pack meeting tomorrow, and keep our eyes and ears on her and Vanessa."

Emily nodded in agreement.

"We'll see how they react to us getting along, and plan our next move from there." I said, scootching closer to Emily's position on the couch. "Getting along should be an easy sell, it won't require much acting on our part." as I explained I wrapped my arm around Emily's waist and pulled her closer. I could feel her unrestrained breasts, covered only by a thin tank-top, heaving against my forearm. My own lovely pair pressed gently into her warm, firm shoulders.

Emily giggled giddily upon feeling my embrace. "That's for sure." she concurred, turning to face me and planting a tender kiss square in the center of my forehead. Her attention then returned the the movie in progress, and we assumed a spooning position on my couch.

I was in the 'male' position, her rear pressed firmly against my flat pelvis. When we awoke the next morning, we were laying in the same position, Aaron's 'morning wood' poking into Emily's soft, womanly rear.

Jerry awoke in his own bed that morning, not quite sure how he'd gotten there. All he seemed to remember was being at Queen Anne's Revenge one moment, and waking up at his place the next. Whatever happened in between was a total blur. What's more, he seemed to be wearing mens clothing that was not his own. Navy blue Adidas shorts and a bright yellow 'USC Banana Slugs' t-shirt adorned his body. He looked like...a dork..

Horrified by the strange foreign clothes, he bolted out to his living room where he found a cardboard box awaiting him. Opening the lid, Jerry found all of Jenny's gear from the previous night neatly packed inside, everything except her purse, and shoes. He was visibly relieved to have found these prized possessions, but mystified about how they ended up there. Upon closer examination, there was a note beneath his breast-forms.

Jerry thought hard about the meaning of the note. 'Sloppy' Nessa said, that was very uncommon for Jerry or Jenny. Both had a well established track record of drinking in moderation. In fact, he distinctly remembered having two drinks like a lady, doing some dancing and then switching to water.

Whatever Nessa meant by 'after we finished up at my place' was also distressing. Did Jerry have a gay experience last night? He was an enlightened man of the 21st century and realized there was nothing wrong with that whatsoever, but it was never something that he desired and so it seemed strange.

And not needing his 'Jenny things' much longer, what could Nessa have meant by that? Jerry had no intention of giving up his Jenny time, to even suggest that was blasphemy to him. Sure, once upon a time he'd felt the sting of being different. Being a cross-dresser was no picnic, but hadn't felt ashamed of his dressing since high-school. What had he said to inspire that comment?

The only rational explanation Jerry could muster was that he'd been drugged. Perhaps by Nessa at the club, perhaps by a random patron. Memory loss, acting drunk, doing strange things with strange people and making wild declarations like, 'I don't need my Jenny clothes anymore' all pointed towards someone slipping him a Mickey. But there was no headache, no body-ache or any of the physical symptoms known to accompany the ingestion of a date-rape drug.

Jerry was puzzled and very afraid that he'd made a mistake, or perhaps several.

Part 19

 

(Outside the club in the warehouse district, the evening of Monday, October 5th, 2009)

Emily and I strolled to the main entrance of the nightclub, ready for that month's pack meeting. Eric, the behemoth wereman bouncer awaited us at the entrance.

"You're late...again." He said in his James Earl Jones-like voice.

"You of all people should know how long it takes us women to get ready." Emily replied playfully.

Eric did not appear to be amused. He hated when others referred to his Erica side, and that was no big secret. Even Erin knew better, and she'd only been here once before. "Very funny, Em. I expected a smart ass answer like that from you." he said as the faux blond brushed past him. "Don't go picking up her bad habits." he warned in a more relaxed tone of voice directed at me.

Long ago, I promised myself that I'd never do anything to offend a man of his size. I wasn't about to break that promise now. "I won't, hun. By the way, you look very handsome tonight. Your biceps are really popping in that shirt you have on. It looks great on you" I smiled as I delivered the compliment. Eric was very proud of his bulging muscles, and was often spotted flexing them in the mirror at times when he thought nobody was watching.

The hard-faced brute visibly softened at my comment. Even through his dark, ebony complexion, I could tell he was blushing. "Come on in, Erin. You're looking pretty fine yourself this evening." he replied, gesturing for me to enter the club.

There were far less patrons in the place than there had been last month. I reminded myself that was because it was Monday evening, an off night for most clubs and bars. On the dance-floor, a handful of patrons swirled their bodies in time to the music. But the energy level was nowhere near last month's peak. Even Sam, the cute, male barkeep looked bored with the slim crop of available women in attendance tonight. I continued to scan the room for familiar faces and was surprised to see two that I faintly recognized. One male, the other female. It took me a moment to place them.

The woman I recognized from my trip to Victoria's Secret. Her name was Kelly, the friendly sales clerk that assisted me on my shopping binge the other weekend. And she seemed to be with the young man, Kevin Jones, whom I interviewed for an entry level position with my company last week. He was the interviewee that recognized me from the movie theater last month. They appeared to be celebrating a special occasion, I guessed it was the new job he'd landed. Come to think of it, his start date was today. I was absent from work, and so I wasn't there to see how he took to it.

My attention drifted off of them, I didn't even want to think about my work situation tonight. Taking Emily by the hand, I followed her into the VIP room where our pack meeting was in progress.

"Hey Kel, check out that woman over there." Kevin said to his girlfriend.

"Kevin! What are you doing looking at other girls." Kelly had a touch of jealousy in her voice.

"Awe Kel, I'm not checking her out, I recognize her. Didn't we see her at the movies the other month?" Kevin asked.

"So?" Kelly had her hand on her hip. It was clear to Kevin that she was pissed.

"It's just, I think my new boss is dating her. He was the man that was with her in the theater." Kevin explained.

"Oh, well that's a good reason not to leer at her." Kelly eased up on her boyfriend. "Oh my God! I love this song. Lets go dance." she demanded, leading him by the hand towards the dance-floor. Kelly held her man a little closer than she normally did, even though her rational mind told her this strange woman was not a threat to her.

As the two of them grinded against one another to the thumping sound of the DJ's mix, Kevin couldn't help but smile to himself. His smoothness was a well documented personality trait for which he was most thankful.

Heather was interrupted by the door behind her swinging open. "Well, well. Glad you two saw fit to join us this evening." she said in a catty voice towards Emily and I. Her eyes traveled to our conjoined hands, and I saw her pupils shrink ever so slightly. I'd played enough poker in my day to know that was a sign of guarded disapproval.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, sweet-heart." Emily answered for both of us.

"It's sort of my fault." I found myself admitting. "I took forever getting ready tonight, I'm still really new to make-up and hairstyling." I explained. It sounded plausible, even though our running late had been intentional.

"No need to apologize, Erin. But we were just discussing Emily's pattern of tardiness as a group before you arrived." Heather's voice had a thinly veiled dose of venom in it. "It's becoming...how should I put this..."

"Problematic!" Vanessa blurted out, interrupting Heather's statement.

"Yes. Thank you for that Vanessa." Heather said. "Not only is it rude, but in my opinion it calls her commitment to the pack into question." She locked eyes with Emily. "Consider this a formal warning. In the future, disciplinary actions might be required."

"Do you promise?" asked Emily, still locked into her stare down with Heather. "It sounds so...kinky."

A chorus of laughter erupted in the wake of Emily's joke. The pixie-like redhead I recognized as Rita laughed first, but was soon joined by the others. But Vanessa and Heather were not amongst those laughing. Their faces soured in disapproval. If the conversation was a boxing match, the champion (Heather) had just unloaded her best uppercut. But instead of felling her challenger, the blow caused Emily to grow six inches in height. Heather looked weak in this battle of wits with Emily. She had no come back, and seemed to be flabbergasted by the nerve of her sister.

"You an I need to talk in private, right now." Heather demanded, breaking off her stare. "My office." she said, gesturing towards a small door at the back of the room.

Two women entered the tiny, cluttered space behind the door in the back of the VIP room.

"Nice office, I can tell you must be really important." Emily said sarcastically to Heather as they took their seats across from one another. Heather was seated in a comfortable, leather roller-chair behind a messy desk. Emily took her seat in the folding chair opposite her.

"Your attitude concerns me, Emily. I've tried to be patient with you, but all I get in return is insubordination." Heather began to speak her piece. "You continually undermine me in front of my pack, and I'm not going to stand for it much longer."

"Your pack?" Emily interrupted. "That's a laugh. All you've done is run around recruiting new sisters, and I'm always there to clean up your mess. Remind me, who was it that trained all of your so called pack sisters to accept their condition? Oh that's right, Becky and I took it upon ourselves. You just bite or bang, and hand them a book in the hopes that they'll figure it out on their own." Emily was audibly hostile.

"Pump your breaks, bitch." Heather said, her eyes squinting as she scowled. "Don't forget who you're speaking to."

"Oh, and who's that?" Emily asked sarcastically.

"A superior being, Emily. One with powers you can't even begin to imagine." Heather stood from her seat as she spoke. "Or have you forgotten?" Her frown contorted into a perverse grin. "Do you require another demonstration?"

Emily appeared to be taken aback. "That won't be necessary" she said softly. "I think it's time I left this pack, and I'm taking Erin with me."

Heather set a bundle of mail down on her coffee table. Atop the pile of bills and junk-mail sat a copy of Time Magazine. The cover featured a photo of Mikhail Gorbachev and a caption that read, 'A Man Without a Country' in large, white block letters. It was dated December 23, 1991.

Emily noted the caption, and how well it seemed to sum up her own situation. She'd strayed from her family to be a part of a new world. But this new life she'd been driven towards did not welcome her in. She existed between the two worlds, a full member of neither.

The events of the last couple years passed before her eyes in a flash...

Not long ago, she'd been a man named Emile with a loving wife named Barbara and two daughters, Sally and Jennifer. They had a comfortable life, his lucrative job as a stock broker at a reputable firm ensured that. But Emile kept a deep, dark secret from those closest to him, one that might negatively influence the opinions of the people who mattered most in his life. His darling family, his boss and co-workers, all would surely abandon him if they knew what he really was. Or so he thought back then.

Emile was a cross-dresser, a habit he had tried to quit and suppress on numerous occasions. But no matter how many times he denied himself feminine expression, the urge always seemed to come roaring back. When it hit, he behaved unusually around his wife and daughters, gaining a deserved reputation for having a short fuse. His colleagues at work complained how he seemed distracted too. In fact, Emile was very distracted, and he knew exactly why.

Eventually, the short tempered, unfocused man would be forced to succumb to his desire for feminine finery. He knew dressing up for a while was the only relief for the tension that he felt, and Emile absolutely hated that about himself. But hate it or not, it was a fact. What he dreaded most was the lies he told to his wife during these self proclaimed melt-downs. Saying he was going on a business trip for a weekend, he'd book a motel room in a neighboring town, careful to pay with a credit card he kept secret from his wife. Soon after check-in, he'd find himself wandering into the ladies department of a nearby store and making a purchase, again using the 'secret Visa.'

At first, he would simply take his treasures back to the motel and marvel at his reflection in the mirror. Sometimes it ended in masturbation, but regardless it always proved to be therapeutic for Emile. He was back to his old self after a relaxing couple of days 'en-femme.' At least for a while. He'd always trash the clothing he bought, swearing it was the last time anyhow. But he knew even then he was lying. The stolen moments he afforded himself were like a release valve on a boiler. Over a period of time, the pressure in the furnace would build, and he'd be right back at it.

Soon enough, dressing in private was no longer enough to sate Emile. He was desperate to go out and mingle with others like himself. So he started attending a club in a nearby city, a place called Queen Anne's Revenge. It was an old, well established night-club that had recently began to cater to a TG crowd. It had grown steadily in popularity since. That's where he met the woman who sat before him tonight, Heather. The two crossed paths there one fateful night, and Emile committed an act of marital infidelity with her. The only one he'd ever engaged in.

About a month later, Emile reaped the consequences of that night with Heather. A note and a book showed up at his office, brought to him by a private courier. The note was from a woman named Heather, warning him to read the book he'd just been given. The title of the tome in the manila envelope was, The New Werewoman Handbook. Emile thumbed through the text, noting that Heather had scribbled, "This is not a joke." on the inside cover.

Emile disregarded the book and the note, it all seemed so ridiculous. He ignored it until it could no longer be denied. The first time he changed into Emily, the transformation happened in front of his wife. He was honest with her about his night with Heather, tearfully providing all the details he remembered of that evening.. For the better part of a year, the pair worked on salvaging their relationship. During that time, he was frequently contacted by the mysterious Heather, who seemed to be guilt ridden over what she had done to him. But every step he took into Heather's world seemed to draw him further away from his family.

Emile's relationship with Barbara began to deteriorate. Heather seemed to have some answers to offer about his new condition, and how to handle his marital problems too. It was Heather who suggested faking 'Emile's' death, and allowing his 'widow' to collect on his life insurance. Having lost the cushy job due to his stress filled new existence, he quickly agreed and set about making sure his wife and daughters were taken care of. Emile was spending more and more time as Emily now, and had even managed to force his change in daylight hours. 'Disappearing him' would be all too easy. And in hind-sight, it had worked perfectly.

But at a terrible cost, Emily had lost her family. And with that bridge irreparably burned, Heather seemed to grow increasingly abusive.. Tonight, Emily and Heather had gathered for an outing at Queen Anne's Revenge. They were dancing with a new girl, Vanessa was her name, when Emily wandered off towards the bar for some refreshment. It was there that she encountered a strange old African-American woman sitting alone at a bar stool. The pleasant old coot began to speak to Emily in a thick, Jamaican accent.

"Woch dem maga dog, maga dog turn rone bite you." she said.

A strange thing to say for sure, but Emily understood somehow. The old biddy was warning her to beware the hand of charity, which could turn around and bite her. "Umm, thanks. I think I know what you mean." Emily smiled.

The wrinkled woman grinned back at her. "Wanti wanti cyan't get it, getti getti no want it." she said in a softening voice.

Once again, despite the thick accent and cryptic message, Emily found herself understanding. The have-not's covet what the haves take for granted. "So someone has been charitable to me, only because they want something from me?" she asked.

Emily's new friend nodded affirmative before speaking again. "Dread omen..." was all she heard her say. The elderly woman pointed in Emily's direction, almost through her. That's when Heather burst onto the scene, grabbing Emily's hand and spinning the girl around to face her.

"Emily, you stay away from that old witch, you hear?!" Heather demanded. "And as for you" she continued fixing her gaze on the elderly woman beside Em, "stay away from my sisters." The conversation ended, and Heather led Emily out the main entrance of the club.

As Emily was being lead away, she looked towards the woman Heather had called a witch. A single tear roll down her proud, wrinkled face.

Heather scolded Emily for daring to speak with this mysterious stranger, demanding to know the details of their conversation. Emily flatly refused, claiming it was none of her business. Heather had been bossy and intimidating towards her recently, and she was in no mood to cooperate with this interrogation. Heather only stopped yelling when she got her mail from the box in front of her row-home, where Emily was also currently living. If you could call it living, it felt more like servitude to Emily...

...Which is where she found herself now...

The second the bundle of mail hit the coffee table, the instant Emily's eye set upon the Time Magazine, the moment she compared herself to the nation-less Gorbachev, Heather reached out and struck her hard. Her fist made contact with the top of Emily's right eye, and a small cut opened up. The force of Heather's blow knocked Emily off of her feet, the blood from the fresh cut stung her eye. Her attacker straddled Emily's torso, and pinned her to the ground with astonishing strength. The pinned girl could not move.

Heather knew it too. With every sister she turned, she grew stronger and more beautiful. Making a new sister even added years to her already extended life-span. Heather had turned over a dozen girls, and Emily hadn't turned a soul. There was no comparison in strength here, and Heather had no problem asserting her dominance.

"I ought to kill you, you ungrateful little punk." Heather sneered. She was displaying a pair of razor-sharp fangs as she spoke. "After all I've done for you, you dare to keep secrets from me?!"

Emily began to tear up. "Go ahead. Do it." Emily presented her neck to Heather by craning her head upwards. "I've got nothing left anyway." she sobbed through the trickle of blood running down her face.

Heather began to soften, the expression of desperation and anger being replaced with one of pity. "I....I can't do it." she said, slowly and calmly dismounting her would be victim. Wearing a mopey look of defeat, she pouted off to her room. Heather never again assaulted Emily.

Still, Emily never forgot about the speed and strength that Heather had demonstrated that night. And as the years ticked past, she was certain that her maker was growing stronger yet.

Emily appeared to be taken aback. "That won't be necessary" she said softly. "I think it's time I left this pack, and I'm taking Erin with me."

"Like hell you are." replied Heather. "You even try it and I'll gut you like I should have back in '91.." she was hovering over Emily who was still seated.

"You can try, but I think you'll find it won't be quite as easy as it was back then." even Emily couldn't tell if she was bluffing as she spoke. She too had grown stronger over the years, but whether or not it would be enough to over-power Heather was a mystery to both women...