TG: The Dark Crystal by Olivia Evans parts

From alt.sex.stories.tg Fri Jan 17 09:58:23 1997 Path: nienor.IN-Berlin.DE!sauveur!IN-Berlin.DE!fub!fu-berlin.de!news.apfel.de!news.nacamar.de!uunet!in2.uu.net!155.229.2.176!metro.atlanta.com!news.he.net!uwm.edu!math.ohio-state.edu!howland.erols.net!worldnet.att.net!ix.netcom.com!netcom.net.uk!dispatch.news.demon.net!demon!mail2news.demon.co.uk!not-for-mail ~~Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg ~~~Lines: 2191 Message-ID: 23cd65da.u9t27e.3a983-suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de ~Reply-To: suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de X-Mail2News-User: suelmann@forwiss.uni-passau.de X-Mail2News-Path: fingon.forwiss.uni-passau.de!forwiss!forwiss.uni-passau.de ~Xref: nienor.IN-Berlin.DE alt.sex.stories:111397 alt.sex.stories.tg:7742

I didn't write this and don't know how to reach the author. TG, sf, adult, pregnant, pre-teen (no sex), sex-change (sf) §§§§§§§§§

The Dark Crystal by Olivia Evans

Part 1

Chapter One:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No?" the mother raised her eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"MOM! Come here! Quick!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The changer...," she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A bra?"

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

The Dark Crystal

Part 2

Chapter Two:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His pronouncement brought cheers from his two companions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, how?" Karen raised an eyebrow.

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

"What's the matter Chris?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Three:

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stone? What stone is that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When you were getting the girls dressed."

"Girls?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, dear?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She covered her husband up and sat down to think.

Chapter Four:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What!" Karen exclaimed.

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

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

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

"Correct, and testicles?"

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

"And a woman's vagina?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so he thought.

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

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

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

"How ya' doin', partner?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

"Very cute," she smiled sliding past him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Would you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

--O--O--O--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What about it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I bought you the cutest little bathing suit."

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

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

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

"The one in the yellow thong bikini."

"A thong bikini! It will never fit!"

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

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

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

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

Everything was going to be alright.

Part 3: "The Transvestite"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Take off the robe," Bill commanded softly.

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanda, please," he half pleaded.

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

"All the way?"

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

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

"I'm glad."

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

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

"What? Wanting to have breasts?"

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

"Bill Have you been listening to me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, how about the hair remover?"

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

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

"Now what?" Bill asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?"

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

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

"For a man you mean?" Bill smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And why not?"

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

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

"Hip pads?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What? No way!" Bill protested.

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was shrinking before her very eyes!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They would have a lot to talk about.

The Dark Crystal by Olivia Evans

Part 4

Renting the cabin had been his publisher's idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And she's wearing you out."

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

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

"What's this?"

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

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

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

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

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

"But what about...?"

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

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

"Do you still have it?"

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

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

"What about the things I'll need?"

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

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

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

-0-0-0-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who are you?" Bill asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Call me Bill."

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

"No real love?" Bill snorted. There was always at least three bedroom scenes in each of his novels. He was about to remind Corrie of this fact when he realized that she wasn't talking about raw sex. "You're probably right, Corrie. Maybe that's why my wife left me, I wasn't romantic enough."

"I'm sorry Bill, that must have been rough," Corrie said sincerely.

"Don't be. She left me nearly forty years ago," Bill smiled sadly. "Most of the pain has long since gone."

Bill looked out of the kitchen window for a few seconds remembering Susan. Maybe it was best that she left when she had.

"Mr. Howard? Bill? It's nearly noon, would you like some lunch?" Corrie's question brought Bill back to the present. "Soup and a sandwich okay?"

"That would be fine. While you're fixing lunch, I'll just explore the house a little."

-0-0-0-

Bill wandered around the house, wondering who the original owners had been and why they had decided to rent the place out. The only thing that really impressed him was the huge stone fire place. Its fire box was large enough to burn small trees. Even a small fire would heat the entire house if it had to.

He climbed the stairs to the second floor slowly, he was after all old, and the damp ocean air made him feel even older. Later he would build a fire and try to take the chill out of the house and his bones, although that would be a first.

In spite of his distaste for the ocean and the dull aches and pain the cold damp air brought on, he was impressed with the view from the second floor master bedroom. Two large French doors faced the sea and opened out to a balcony that made up the roof of the glassed in porch. He opened one of the doors and stepped out onto the balcony, and looked down at the deserted beach.

He started to think about how he could incorporate the loneliness of the house and beach into the plot of his book. Perhaps if Detective Peters were to...

"Bill? Lunch is ready," Corrie's voice came from the stairway, interrupting his thoughts.

Sighing, Bill returned inside and walked stiffly down the stairs. Going down was almost as bad as going up. He could have had Corrie make up a bed in one of the downstairs rooms, but had decided not to. The view from the master bedroom was too spectacular not to take the effort to climb the stairs.

-0-0-0-

"This is delicious," Bill exclaimed as he tasted the soup, a thick cream of brocoli. Corrie looked pleased.

"It's from a recipe book my grandmother left me. It's my favorite."

"And as I said, it's delicious! You've done a much maligned vegetable incredible justice," Bill noticed that Corrie was standing by the sink watching him eat. "Corrie, aren't you going to eat too?"

She shook her head, "No, I'll eat later. After you're done."

"Being the good little servant girl, huh? Nonsense little lady, grab yourself a bowl and sit down! I hate to eat alone, although that's what I usually end up doing." He grinned and wiped a drop of soup from his beard.

Corrie got another bowl from the cupboard and filled it. She sat down and shifted her body uneasily. Sensing her uneasiness, Bill smiled disarmingly.

"Now then, Corrie, if you're going to be my housekeeper, we need to know a little about each other. You first, my life story will take a little longer than yours, I suspect," Bill chuckled.

As Corrie started telling Bill about herself, he allowed his mind to wander. Maybe he could change the name of Detective Peters's girl friend.

-0-0-0-

"Corrie! I thought I asked you not to do that! I may be old enough to be your grandfather, but I'm not crippled. I can bring my own fire wood in," Bill said nearly a week later.

The relationship between himself and Corrie had grown from employer/employee to any easy friendship. He watched as the girl dropped the armful of logs into the wood box next to the stone fireplace.

In spite of his assertion that he was capable of brining in his own firewood, he was glad she had done it. At his age he had to conserve his strength. Now on the other hand, if he had been her age -- if he were her age, she wouldn't be bringing in wood for the fire, they both would be laying naked in front of it.

If he were only fifty years younger and didn't suffer from the damned arthritis, Bill sighed. Even forty years younger would be nice -- as long as he had a sound and healthy body again. "Bill, do you mind if I leave a little early today?" Corrie asked brushing off her hands on the seat of her snug fitting jeans.

"Of course not. Got a hot date or something?"

"Or something," Corrie replied, there was a slight hint of a twinkle in her eyes. She's up to something, Bill thought.

Corrie wanted to leave early so that she could do a little shopping. She had just found out that Bill's birthday, his seventy first, was the next day and she wanted to buy him a sweater to ease the chill out of the cold evenings. The nights were becoming cooler and she thought he would like it.

Bill had to fix his own dinner that night, a task he was no stranger to. While not quite as good as Corrie, he was a passable cook. He washed his dishes and wandered back into the living room, carefully avoiding the dinning room and his yet unused word processor.

No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't get into the mood to write. He knew that it was just a class A writer's block that would pass eventually, but still he felt guilty about not working on his novel.

He sat on the overstuffed couch watching the fire for a few minutes. He had forgotten how good a fire could feel on a damp night like this. After a while, however, he became bored and wandered back into the kitchen. It was while he was searching for some coffee grounds for a pot of coffee that he discovered a book Corrie had been reading.

Expecting to find a trashy romance novel, he read the title and was surprised to see that it was one of his first novels. Written nearly thirty five years earlier, Bill could only dimly remember the plot. He thumbed through it reading a paragraph or two while the coffee perked.

"Well, I've always heard that the author was a fairly competent wordsmith, maybe I'll slip into something more comfortable and read a few pages before I go to bed," Bill chuckled to himself.

A few minutes later, Bill had changed into his pajamas and robe and was sitting comfortably on the couch with his feet propped up on a pillow on the coffee table. He was in his favorite position for a cold night by himself, in front of a fire, reading what was turning out to be a surprisingly good book.

In spite of having written the book himself, he soon became wrapped up in the plot. He had forgotten enough of the story that each turn of a page brought new surprises and ideas for his current work.

About thirty pages into the book, Bill began to feel the pressures of a full bladder. Setting the book down, he threw another log on the fire and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself, then out to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.

When he returned, he leaned his back against the side of an arm, stretched his legs out on the couch and began reading again. Or at least tried to, there seemed to be something wrong with the couch. There was a lump right under his rear, which was positioned right on the gap between two cushions. There was something wedged between them, something hard. Moving slightly, Bill reached carefully under his rear and between the cushions. Feeling the object he pulled it out. It was some kind of cylinder shaped object. Sliding his reading glasses down to his nose, something he hadn't needed when he'd written the book he was reading, Bill looked at the object.

The smoky colored quartz crystal like object was about the size of a twelve gauge shotgun shell, he decided. It appeared to be natural quartz crystal, with some man made improvements, thin gold wires wrapped tightly around one side. At the end with the wires, a small gold loop was attached, making the crystal look like an oversized pendant for one of those "healing crystal" necklaces. It had obviously been left behind by one of the previous renters.

Bill set it on the side table, intending to tell Corrie about it in the morning, and returned to his reading. About two hours later, he yawned and went upstairs to bed, the crystal already forgotten.

-0-0-0-

Corrie kicked the kick stand on her dirt bike and got off the small motorcycle. She glanced at the face of her small watch, it was barely nine AM.

She had returned earlier than normal to the beach house. She wanted to have the cake finished before lunch and needed at least an hour to prepare and bake.

Going inside the kitchen she removed her helmet and set it on the counter next to the coffee maker. Seeing that Bill hadn't finished the pot he'd made the night before, Corrie dumped the cold coffee out and made a fresh pot. Bill normally didn't get out of bed for another half hour or so, showering and getting dressed just before she arrived. In spite of being a late riser, he always had a pot of coffee perking when she arrived.

Corrie really liked the old man, she thought he was one of the most intelligent men she'd ever met. He was funny, kind, considerate and respected her as a person. Best of all, he wasn't like the men, boys really, she knew in the village, who were always trying to get into her panties.

If he were about fifty years younger however, she just might let him succeed. Corrie smiled at the thought, she'd never kissed a man with a beard before. She wondered if was scratchy or if it tickled. Maybe she could use the excuse of his birthday to find out.

Corrie decided that she would do something nice for Bill and serve him breakfast in bed. It wasn't everyday that you celebrated your seventy first birthday after all.

She knew what he liked. She should, after having washed his dirty breakfast dishes every morning when she arrived.

Humming "Happy Birthday" softly to herself, Corrie carried the bed table with Bill's Birthday breakfast carefully up the stairs. She paused just long enough at the bedroom door to light the single candle stuck in the stack of pancakes, knock lightly on the door jam and call out.

"Bill, breakfast is ready! Happy Birthday to you, happy birth..." she sang as she stepped into the bedroom. She had been prepared for almost anything except for what she saw.

"Who are you?" Corrie asked when she saw the attractive blonde haired woman sit up in the middle of the queen sized bed. She was wearing Bill's pajamas and had obviously just awakened.

"Corrie? What are you doing here so early?" the startled blonde asked.

The blonde's look of surprise at seeing someone else in the bedroom, turned to one of horror as her mouth suddenly snapped shut. She pulled out the front of Bill's pajamas she was wearing and stared down at her chest, her eyes almost as large as the pancakes Corrie had made.

Realizing that she still was holding the bed table, Corrie blew out the candle and set the breakfast on the dresser, never letting the other woman out of her line of sight.

The blonde had continued her silent inspection of herself, totally ignoring Corrie. She was no longer looking down the front of her pajama top, but now intently inspecting the back of her hands. She was acting as though she'd never seen them before as she opened and closed them into fists.

"Who are you, and where's Bill?" Corrie demanded regaining her composure.

At the mention of Bill's name, the girl looked up helplessly at Corrie. The look of anguish was so great on her face that Corrie took a step toward the bed, then stopped, not quite sure what she should do.

The girl opened her mouth and uttered a little squeak, cleared her throat and tried to speak again. It wasn't much better.

"I -- I'm Bill and I'm a woman," she said in an anguished tone and promptly passed out.

Corrie was scared to death. First she finds a gorgeous girl in the bed of a sweet old man who seemed to be missing, then the girl says that she's Bill and then she passes out before she can explain what the Hell was going on!

Half scared that the girl had suddenly died from a heart attack or something, Corrie cautiously approached the bed.

The blonde with the boyishly short hair style, looked familiar, but Corrie couldn't place where she had seen her before. Nor could she remember seeing any girl that was that tiny. Not more than a size five or six. The smallest girl that Corrie knew wore a size 10, and that was herself.

She took another look at the prone figure and decided on what she had to do. Walking backwards, half afraid that the girl would disappear to where ever Bill had disappeared to, Corrie made her way to the master bathroom.

-0-0-0-

Bill had been suddenly awakened from a sound sleep by Corrie's voice as she sang "Happy Birthday". Startled awake, he had sat up in bed and asked her what she was doing there.

As soon as he had uttered the question, his sleep drugged mind realized that something was wrong. His voice sounded strangely high pitched and his chest felt funny. Gripping the front of his pajama top that had seemed to grow about ten sizes too large, Bill pulled it away from his body and looked inside.

Being a man with a normal sex drive, Bill had seen hundreds of women's breasts, both completely and partially exposed, in photographs and in real life. But never in all of his seventy one years had he seen a pair from the angle he was seeing them now.

Never before had he seen a pair firmly attached to his own chest!

With a mind that was almost too numb to comprehend what it was seeing, Bill shifted his attention to his hands, or rather the back of his hands. Astonishingly, he could see them clearly, even without the aid of his glasses.

When he had gone to bed the night before, the lose, heavily wrinkled skin had been covered with age spots and gray hair. His veins had been prominent and he had suffered a minor attack of arthritis that had forced his hands into a painful claw like position.

Now his the skin on the back of his hands was firm, smooth, completely clear of blemishes and absolutely free from pain of any kind. Although oddly, the scar on the palm of his hand, the result of an accident when he'd been six, was still in the same location.

It was a young man's -- young woman's skin, Bill corrected himself thinking of the firm breasts attached to his chest.

"Who are you, and where's Bill?" The sound of Corrie's voice filled with a strange mixture of fear and anger brought Bill back to reality.

He tried to speak, choked and tried again.

"I -- I'm Bill and I'm a woman," he managed to say before everything went black.

-0-0-0-

Bill awoke to the sharp smell of ammonia. He opened his eyes to find Corrie leaning over him holding an ammonia ampule in her hand. He shook his head and pushed Corrie's hand away.

"That's enough," he said, then sneezed.

"Alright. Now who are you and where is Bill?" Corrie asked again.

Bill looked at his young housekeeper. "I know that this will be hard for you to believe, but I am Bill -- William Howard."

"I hate to state the obvious girl, but you can't be. Bill was an old man with gray hair and beard. Neither of which you seem to have," Corrie snapped. Bill rubbed his soft hairless cheeks, he hadn't thought about his beard.

"Never the less, I AM Bill Howard. Now then, if you'll move out of the way, I've got to go to the bathroom. That is unless you don't mind cleaning up a mess?" Bill smiled.

Corrie's sense of compassion guided her response. She moved aside and allowed the blonde to get out of bed. As Bill stood up, his pajama bottoms, made for a man with a forty inch waist, slid to the floor. Both women stared at the colorful pajama bottoms for a second. The top of the pajamas fit like a tent and extended down to mid thigh.

"Looks like I'm going to need some new clothes," Bill quipped. He stepped lightly out of the pajama bottoms, walked rapidly to the bathroom and used the toilet while a very confused Corrie sat on the edge of the bed and waited. "Well, now that was different!" Bill said more to himself than to Corrie, as he returned to the bedroom.

He had rolled up the long sleeves of the pajama top by the time he returned to the bedroom. It was now easier to see his hands, but the cool morning air on his bare rear under the pajama top made him felt half dressed.

"Now then, where were we? Oh, yes. I was trying to convince you that I am Bill Howard... uh, slightly transformed, but myself none the less."

Corrie stood up when Bill reached the side of the bed, the first time they had both been standing. Bill tilted his head back to see the young woman's face. She was about five seven he knew, so he was obviously a short woman, a petite woman, he corrected himself.

He had lost about a foot in height and could see the difference in his perspective of the bedroom furniture, yet strangely, he didn't feel short. It was almost as if everything in his body had adjusted itself to the new height and weight he suddenly found himself in.

"What did you do with Bill? Did you sleep here with him last night?" Corrie demanded, "if I don't get some straight answers out of you, I'm going to call the Sheriff!"

Bill looked at the young woman in surprise.

"Sleep with him? Why Corrie, do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice?" Bill teased, then grew serious. "Corrie, calm down for a minute, will you? I assure you, I am who I say I am. Only right now, I seem to be in the body of a girl. Don't ask me how, but its true."

"How can I believe that cock and bull story? What did you do with Mr. Howard!"

Bill sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, I'll try to prove it to you. Ask me a question that only Bill would know."

"What was the name of your third book and how high did it get on the Times' Best Seller list?"

Bill frowned. He may have suddenly found himself in the body of a girl fifty years younger than himself, but his mind was still seventy one years old. He couldn't even remember what the name of his third book was, let alone how high it had gone on the Best Seller list.

"I don't remember," he admitted sadly. "I wrote it almost forty years ago."

"See! You couldn't even answer a simple question like that! That proves you're not Mr. Howard." Corrie said folding her arms over breasts in triumph.

"Call me Bill," Bill said absently, his mind still on the question. What WAS the name of that damned book? "I'm truly sorry, Corrie. It seems that while the body appears much younger, I'm still seventy one years old up here." Bill tapped his forehead with his forefinger. "Alright, I'll ask you a question about something that happened here within the last week. Something that no one but Mr. Howard would know."

"Okay, fire away," Bill sighed, not sure that he would be able to answer this one either..

"What did I say about Bill's writing?" Corrie asked smugly.

"More about my books? What did...? Oh, yeah. You said and I'll try to remember your exact words, you said that 'they were okay, had good plots and characterization'. But, you thought that they lacked something. You called it a 'warmth' between Detective Peters and his girl friends."

The smug look on Corrie's face faded. "How did you know that?"

Bill smiled, his confidence returning. "I was there?"

Corrie shifted uneasily, maybe this woman WAS telling the truth, as insane as it seemed. No, that was impossible!

But hadn't Bill himself said that truth was stranger than fiction? There had to be a logical answer to all this. Corrie suddenly remembered a plot that had been in one of Mr. Howard's books, the fifth she thought. A murderer had assumed the identity of the victim, trying to commit the perfect crime. Maybe that was the answer, the blonde had killed Mr. Howard and was trying to assume his identity. But how could she expect to do that -- Mr. Howard was an old man and this person was obviously a much younger woman. No, it was too incredible to be true, but if it wasn't some kind of weird plot, then it could be that she was telling the truth and was Bill Howard.

Bill watched the look of growing confusion cross his young housekeeper's face. He knew exactly what she was going through. He had gone through the same denial/acceptance process himself. He'd been quicker to accept the truth, but that was only because of the physical evidence.

Physical Evidence! That was it! The body change hadn't removed the evidence of a childhood accident. He quickly checked the palm of his hand again, then grinned.

"Corrie? Do you remember asking about the scar on the palm of my -- Bill's left hand?"

"Yes, Bill said that he'd seen a juggling act in a circus when he'd been five or six, and was trying to learn how to juggle -- using real butcher knives from his mother's kitchen...." Corrie's mouth dropped open as Bill turned his slender hand over. The odd "W" shaped scar was in exactly the same spot Bill's had been. Corrie reached out and hesitantly ran her finger lightly over the thin pale "W". The scar was real!

"I assure you it is the same, well almost the same, scar."

"Oh, my God! You are Bill!" Corrie exclaimed and sat down heavily next to him. "But how? Why?"

"My dear, if I knew the answer to those questions, I could make a small fortune in a few days," Bill smiled.

"But -- you're -- were a man!" Corrie stammered, blushing. "How do you feel?"

It was a question that Bill had been asking himself. How did he feel? Bill stood and walked to the center of the room. Flexing his body slightly, he raised his hands above his head, then bent over and flipped up into a hand stand.

Corrie's mouth dropped open again in astonishment as Bill balanced his slender, petite body easily on his small hands.

Corrie had almost giggled when the huge pajama top fell over the blonde's head and slid down her slender arms. If there had been any doubt about the sex of the blonde, there wasn't now! With a body that looked that good, she certainly wasn't a man!

Bill laughed and stood up. The pajama top fell back around his thighs again, much to Corrie's relief.

"How do I feel? Corrie, how old do I look to you?"

She shook her head, "I don't know... Twenty, twenty one? Not much more than that, I guess."

"Twenty or twenty one," Bill mused. "Corrie how would you feel if you were old and crippled and had suddenly been given a young healthy body and a chance to live for another fifty or sixty years?"

"But you were a man... Aren't you upset about losing...? I mean -- finding yourself in the body of a woman? Doesn't that bother you?" Corrie asked incuriously. "Being a woman?" Bill looked thoughtful for a minute. "Corrie, I once asked you for your honest opinion of my writing, now I'm going to ask you to be honest with me again."

"Okay," Corrie said. "I'll try."

"This is a little unfair, because you're not old enough to know any different. Which sex is the superior one? Male or female?"

"Superior? I suppose... I, uh... Men, I guess," Corrie said hesitantly, conditioned by a life time of imposed social values.

"Corrie, let me give you a little bit of wisdom about women that I have gained over some sixty odd years of experience. Neither sex is superior to the other. Both have unique advantages and disadvantages over the other. I was a man for a long time and had a lot of girl friends. Most I went to bed with at one time or another," Bill paused thinking back over his life. "And I loved every second of it. But you know what?"

Corrie shook her head.

"I've always wondered what it felt like to be a woman, to be made love to by a man, to have periods, even what it felt like to have and nurse babies." Bill smiled when he saw the odd look of revulsion cross Corrie's face.

"No, I'm not a transsexual," he laughed, looking down at the twin mounds tenting his pajama top. "At least I wasn't before now. I had no desire to actually be a woman, you understand, but I was curious just the same."

"But now you are one," Corrie said softly.

"Yes, and now I am one."

"But what will you do now? How will you live? What about your writing?"

"Corrie, the typewriter -- or word processor now a days, doesn't care one bit if the fingers that stroke its keys are thick and hairy or slender and have polished fingernails. I have earned a good living writing and will continue to do so in the future. As for how will I live? Well, I'll take it one day at a time and live life as it happens, just as I always have."

Corrie threw her arms around the petite woman who had once been an old man. "I hope you're happy in your new life."

"I'm sure I will be," Bill replied, returning the hug. He kissed Corrie on the cheek. "Thank you for caring about me."

"What are you going to do first?" Corrie asked.

"First? Why not a thing. You're going to have to do it for me," Bill smiled.

"I am? What is that?"

Bill stood up and allowed his pajama top to slide to the floor. He spun around in a circle on his toes, then walked toward the door to the bathroom. "First of all Corrie dear, you're going to go to the village and buy me some clothing that will fit this wonderful new body of mine." "And what are you going to do while I'm gone?" Corrie called out over the sound of the shower being turned on.

Bill stuck his head out of the door to the bathroom. "I think that I'll shave these hairy legs and under arms of mine. There isn't much there, but what there is, is just so gross, don't you think? Then I'm going..." Bill grinned and pulled his head back into the bathroom.

Curious, Corrie walked over to the door and leaned against the door jam. She watched as Bill stepped lightly into the shower. "Then what are you going to do?"

Bill stuck his head out between the shower curtains. "Then, I'm going to do something I haven't done in thirty years or more. I'm going to go skinny dipping in the ocean.

"What?" Corrie exclaimed. "But there still might be some late season tourists on the beach! You can't do that, someone will see you!"

"Sure I can. Besides, who knows, maybe I'll find a nice handsome young man, a man who won't mind that his new girl friend is actually a seventy one year old 'dirty old man'." Bill winked, smiled and pulled his head back into the shower.

Corrie shook her head and grinned. Maybe there wasn't any truth to that old saying after all. You CAN teach old dogs new tricks!

The Dark Crystal by Olivia Evans

Part 5

Steven and Linda Markham were newly weds and naturally excited about their first night on what would prove to be an interesting two week honeymoon. They planed to spend the entire two weeks in a beach house located about three hours away from the small town of Weaverville where they would take up residence later.

They had chosen their honeymoon spot at the recommendation of Corrie Malone, a college classmate of Linda's and the ex-girl friend of Steven's. Corrie's father Henry Malone, owned the Real Estate Office that managed the rent of the beach house and had given the young couple a discount because it was both the off season and they were friends of his daughter.

-0-0-0-

"Wow! Would you look at the size of that fireplace?" Steven said when they explored the house.

Linda merely glanced at the huge stone fireplace. "The whole house is huge, certainly larger than the apartment we've rented."

"I know, Linda. But as soon as I get my MBA I'll be able to go to work for CHEMTREX and we can afford to move into a larger place."

"We may need to do that before then, honey. Once the baby is born we will need to move, regardless if you're working for CHEMTREX or not," Linda said.

Steven kissed his wife of five hours and rubbed her still flat stomach. "When will you begin to show?"

Linda placed her hand on top of Steven's, "The doctor said I was about six weeks along. So we still have another two, two and a half months before I have to start wearing maternity clothes."

"Do you think anyone suspects?"

Linda laughed, "Nope, only the doctor and we know. Although I think my mother suspects. I was pretty sick this morning and she walked in while I was cleaning up. I told her it was just wedding day nerves. She didn't say anything, but with her, you can never tell what she's thinking."

"You were sick? Are you okay now?" a concerned Steven asked.

An amused look crossed Linda's face, "Yes, I'm fine, just a little morning sickness. Normal, or so the doctor says. Don't worry, I'm not going to let a little thing like being pregnant interfere with our loving."

Steven removed his hand from Linda's stomach and slipped it around her narrow waist, pulling her close to him. "Speaking of that, have I told you that I love you?"

Linda kissed him lightly on the mouth, "Humm, not since about ten minutes ago."

"Well I do, you know."

"I know," Linda said softly. She kissed her husband passionately. Each kiss was a little hungrier than the previous. With obvious reluctance, Steven broke free.

"Why don't I unpack the station wagon while you go upstairs and make the bed?" he suggested.

Linda considered the couch for a second, the bed would be better, she decided. "Okay, don't forget the presents."

-0-0-0-

An hour later they had unpacked and were sitting at the dining room table, inspecting their wedding gifts. "Another toaster!" Linda laughed.

"One more and we can open our own appliance store," Steven smiled.

"I think we should take three of them back and exchange them for a nice microwave oven," Linda suggested. Steven nodded it was a more practical idea than his anyway.

"We may not have to, the gift that Corrie gave us is about the right size for a microwave," Steven nodded toward the large, still unwrapped gift. Linda slid it across the table to Steven.

"You know, I'm really impressed with the way Corrie bounced back after you dumped her," Linda said inspecting the silver and white wrapping of Corrie's gift. "I certainly didn't expect her to go out of her way like this. She even got us a discount on the rental for our honeymoon."

Steven shook his head, "I thought she would kill me when I told her that we were through. I guess that time really does heal old wounds."

"I'm not so sure that it did darling. You didn't see the look on her face at the wedding, I did. It was almost as if she was basking in some kind of hideously gruesome revenge."

They both looked at the unopened gift. Steven shifted uneasily. "You don't think that she gave us a bomb or something like that do you?"

"Steven, shame on you! Corrie may have acted as though she was a woman scorned, but she wouldn't do anything that crazy."

They looked at the gift again. It sat as quietly on the table as it had a few seconds before. Steven and Linda looked up at each other. Seeing the expression on the other's face they both broke into laughter.

"Go ahead and open it. It's probably just a microwave." Linda said laughing again.

Steven took a deep dramatic breath and untied the satin ribbon. He released it nosily, bringing a bought of giggles from Linda when nothing happened. A few seconds later the wrapping had been removed, Steven opened the flaps of the box and looked inside.

"Well, it isn't a microwave," he said, sounding disappointed.

"What is it, honey?"

Steven pulled a new pair of panties out of the box. "Looks like she bought you something to wear on the honeymoon," Steven looked into the box again. "There must be an entire wardrobe in here."

"What? You're kidding. Let me see," Linda said, moving to Steven's side and peering into the large box. "That's odd. Take it all out and let's see what it is."

Steven began to remove the clothing, pulling out a dozen more panties, an equal number of bras, a couple pairs of jeans, some blouses and tops, a denim mini skirt, some women's socks, a pair of nylons, two pair of shoes, one high heel pumps and the other a pair of white tennis shoes, two sexy looking nightgowns and the oddest item of all, two pair of earrings for pierced ears.

Linda didn't have pierced ears.

"Looks like you made out, honey. This stuff reflects Corrie's excellent taste in clothes," Steven said holding up a pair of bright teal string bikini panties.

Linda took the panties from Steven and held them up to her waist. They were obviously too small to fit her. She dropped the panties onto the pile of the clothing and picked up a pair of jeans. After glancing at the label inside, Linda tossed it on the stack of clothing and read the label of another garment. "I don't think that she meant these for me."

Steven looked at the pile of women's clothing. "What makes you think that they aren't for you? She certainly didn't buy them for me."

"I can't wear them dear. They're a little small. I wear a size 11 and these all appear to be in a size 5 petite. They wouldn't even fit Corrie." "They are?" Steven picked up a bra and looked at the label, it was a 34 "C", the cup size was right but not the chest size. "I wonder why Corrie gave us this stuff then? What is she up to?"

Linda shivered and looked around the room quickly as though she were watching for a deranged Corrie armed with a butcher knife to leap out of a hidden wall panel.

"I don't know. But I'm frighted of what she could do." Linda shivered again. "Steven, let's get out of here. We can spend our honeymoon in the apartment."

"Honey, be reasonable. Corrie wouldn't do anything to harm us, trust me, I knew her well enough to be absolutely sure of that." Steven took his wife in his arms. "The clothing is just her idea of a joke that's all. Everything will be fine."

"Do you really think so?" Linda asked tilting her head back to look into Steven's eyes. He was surprised to see that she was crying.

"Honey, I know so. Look, I'll go get the rest of the stuff and you can fix us something to eat."

"You're hungry?" Linda asked in surprise. "From the way you acted on the trip from the reception, I didn't think that we would make it past the couch in the living room."

"Darn near didn't make it past the back seat of the station wagon," Steven mused. "Well, you know how us old married men are, always thinking of our stomachs first, then servicing the old lady."

"Is that a promise?"

"Servicing the old lady? Sure, but I intend to spend a lot of time in bed, so I'll need lots and lots of food. I need all the strength I can get," Steven grinned.

"Damn, I knew I should have packed those smoked oysters."

"What makes you think that I didn't?" Steven grinned and headed out the door to the car.

Linda watched her husband of six hours for a minute through the large picture window of the living room as he gathered up the rest of their luggage.

Steven was a big man, nearly six foot two inches and yet slender at 195 pound. With his flame red hair and deep blue eyes, he reminded Linda of a movie she had once seen about the Vikings. He had that same intense look in his eyes when he was concentrating on a problem as Kirk Douglas had. But to Linda, he was a lot more handsome.

He had been a real prize and she was glad that she had won him away from Corrie. She knew that Corrie wasn't mad at Steven, she was furious with herself. Still, it was Corrie's own fault that she'd lost Steven. Corrie didn't understand what it took to keep a man happy and she did.

Of course, it had taken getting pregnant to do it, but Steven was worth it, God was he ever worth it! It was really too bad that Steven wasn't the father. Ah well, she sighed and rubbed her stomach, the next one will be his.

Linda turned back to the table and started to put the wedding gifts back into their boxes. As she carefully placed the clothing back into the box she seriously debated throwing it all in the fireplace and burning it.

She changed her mind when she realized that she could do the exact same thing with the expensive clothing that they were going to do with the extra toasters. She would take them back to the store and exchange them for some maternity clothes for herself.

Linda wondered what Corrie's reaction would be when she found out, and Corrie would find out, she would see to that.

"Now that will really piss her off," Linda laughed to herself. Still she had the nagging feeling that something disastrous was about to happen.

"Still checking out the loot, darling?" Steven asked from behind her. Linda turned and smiled. "Just day dreaming about you and wondering if I should cook those oysters or have you eat them raw."

"I can think of something a little sweeter than oysters to eat," Steven leered at Linda.

Linda grinned and leered back. "So can I lover boy, so can I. In fact, just thinking about it makes my... whoops."

Linda's description of what part of her anatomy was watering was interrupted by Steven as he picked her up in his arms suddenly. He gave her a big kiss and carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Be gentle honey, remember I'm supposed to be a virgin on her first night of her honeymoon," Linda giggled as Steven gently laid her on the king sized mattress.

"Humm, maybe we shouldn't mess around then," Steven said stepping back from the bed.

"What?" Linda exclaimed. "Why not?"

"Well, if you're a virgin who just happens to be pregnant, making love to you until after the birth would seem sacralegious somehow."

Linda looked dumbfounded at her husband for a second, not sure if he was kidding her or not. "Are you serious?"

"Let's take our clothes off and see," Steven grinned.

-0-0-0-

"Well so much for waiting for a virgin birth," Linda sighed, clamping down on her husband. He had just filled her with his love juices and she wanted him to stay inside of her for as long as possible. She affectionately rubbed Steven's sweaty bare back. He wasn't the best she'd ever had, but he certainly wasn't the worst either.

"Happy honey?" Linda asked as she nipped at his ear lobe.

Steven responded by trying to flex his slowly deflating penis inside of her. Linda giggled and tried to tighten up even further. Steven popped out like a watermelon seed that had been squeezed between two fingers.

"Oh, no" Linda moaned disappointedly.

"I'm sorry honey, it sort of just slipped out."

"So I noticed," Linda sighed. She pushed gently against Steven's shoulders, signaling him that she wanted to get up. She rolled off the bed and stood looking down at her husband. "After I've cleaned up a little, I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?"

"Love to," Steven replied as he moved to the side of the bed and sat up.

Linda bent over and kissed him, as he tried to fondle her bare breasts.

"Something tells me this is going to be an interesting two weeks," Linda smiled down at her husband as he maneuvered one of her nipples into his mouth.

-0-0-0-

Corrie Malone stood just below the crest of a sand dune overlooking the beach house. She was dressed for the cool weather, jeans, pull over cable knit sweater, denim jacket and a pair of binoculars.

Steven and Linda had been at the house for four days, and she was curious how they were getting along. She brought the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted the focus.

The house seemed to leap out at her, allowing her to see the inside of several rooms with a fair degree of clarity. One of the rooms, the bedroom on the second floor, attracted her rapt attention.

"Jeezus, they're like a couple of minks! Don't they ever stop?" she asked herself. "Enjoy it while you can, cousin. Before your honeymoon is over, you'll be sampling lesbian love, that is if you dare!"

-0-0-0-

"I need to take a rest, honey. I'm sorry," Steven said when his wife started to make advances toward him. He pulled on his undershorts.

"So soon? Is mommy's little man all drained out?" Linda pouted.

"You might say that," Steven sighed. Actually he had reached the point where his testicles had a constant ache from their struggle to keep up with the demand. "I'll be alright tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Linda exclaimed dejectedly.

Steven looked at the expression of disappointment on his wife's face. "Well, maybe later tonight."

Linda sighed. "I suppose that I could stand a few hours of rest myself," she admitted. You certainly know how to wear a girl out -- and most pleasantly too, I might add."

Steven's stomach growled, reminding them both that they hadn't eaten in nearly seven hours.

"Hungry dear?" Linda giggled.

"Yeah. Why don't you fix some dinner, while I build a fire," Steven suggested. "We can cuddle up on the couch and watch the fire while we eat." "What would you like? I've got some steaks, a couple of potatoes I can bake and the fixings for a salad."

"Sounds good," Steven agreed.

Linda rubbed her bare body against Steven's. "Shall we have our salad without dressing, or do you want to get dressed first."

Steven laughed. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting cold. That old song about your love keeping me warm, never took into account the storm that's heading in from the ocean."

Linda glanced out the window. The sky did seem darker, more threatening. "I guess that it will be with dressing then."

-0-0-0-

Steven had thrown on a pair of jeans and a wool shirt and slipped his bare feet into a pair of sneakers. "Why don't you take a quick shower and make yourself pretty, while I bring in some wood.

Linda nodded, and headed toward the bathroom, while Steven went down stairs and out on the porch, where a wood pile was stored.

-0-0-0-

Corrie watched through her binoculars as Steven took several loads of fire wood into the house. She glanced up at the darkening sky and shivered. It was going to be a cold and wet night, a very wet night. She turned and walked down the back of the sand dune to where she had hidden her car. If anything was going to happen it wouldn't be for another couple of hours yet. She might as well keep warm.

-0-0-0-

Linda got out of the shower and slowly dried herself off. In spite of her teasing, she was glad that Steven had decided to put their sexual gymnastics on hold for a while. She was starting to get a little sore, proof that her sexual appetite wasn't insatiable after all.

Linda walked back to the bedroom to get dressed. Not really watching where she was going, she accidently kicked the box containing the clothing Corrie had given them as a wedding gift. Linda rubbed her sore toe as she balanced herself on one foot.

"Damn you anyway!" Linda snarled and kicked the box with the side of her bare foot into the corner. The box bounced against the wall and a pair of panties fell out. Linda stared at the teal bikinis for a second then turned and got dressed. For about the hundreth time since they had opened Corrie's gift, Linda wondered what she was up to.

-0-0-0-

"It's nice to have a fireplace on a night like this isn't it?" Steven asked several hours later as he settled back onto the couch. The log he'd just thrown on the fire sizzled damply then began to smolder as flames began to curl around it.

Linda cuddled up against Steven and ran her hand along one of his denim clad muscular thighs. The fabric was stretched tightly, allowing her to feel the strength of his leg under her hand.

"Humm, almost as good as the fire here," she purred sliding her hand upward. She ran a finger along the crotch seam of the jeans. Under her light finger pressure she could feel the already tight fabric grow a little tighter.

"I thought that you were too tired to mess around?" Linda giggled.

Steven ran a hand through Linda's long brunette hair. It still smelled faintly of shampoo from her morning shower. Like the rest of her, it was beautiful, Steven decided. He kissed the top of her head.

Linda wiggled slightly and pulled herself closer to her husband's strong warm body. She moved her hand from the seam of his pants to just above his waist band. She began pulling his shirt out of his pants.

Steven stopped her. "Wait a second honey, there's something sicking me in my back."

Steven leaned forward as Linda reached behind him. She dug between the cushions that had been spread apart by Steven's weight. She felt a slight tingle in her lower abdomen as she touched the hard cool object. Totally unaware that the baby she was carrying would grow up in an entirely different direction from which nature had intended, Linda pulled the object free.

"Here's what's been sticking you, sweetheart," she said handing it to Steven.

Steven took the object from his wife and glanced at it. It looked like a part of a child's toy. A crystal with some brass wire wrapped around one end couldn't have been anything else but a child's toy. He tossed it casually on the end cushion of the couch.

"Now then where were we?" Steven asked, taking his wife in his arms.

"You were just showing me the heat of your love," Linda purred.

"Oh, yeah," Steven yawned, "that too. I'm sorry honey, but I'm beat. I'm about to fall asleep on my feet. I guess that I shouldn't have eaten so much for dinner."

"You're the one that insisted on three helpings of my lasagna, you pig," Linda smiled softening the insult to a sign of affection. She was pleased that Steven found her cooking almost as desirable as he found her. "That's alright honey, it's late and I'm getting tired too. What do you say we go upstairs and go to bed."

"I say that it sounds like a good idea," Steven agreed yawning again. He rose from the couch and pulled the fireplace screen closed. Turning, he held out his hand and helped Linda stand up then followed her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Ten minutes later they had dressed for bed, Steven wearing a pair of undershorts and an old "Grateful Dead" T-shirt he'd bought the summer before and Linda in a short waltz length nightgown. Linda snuggled close to her husband, enjoying his warmth. He put his arm around her shoulder and almost instantly fell asleep.

Linda listened to Steven's steady breathing for a few minutes, disappointed that he hadn't managed to stay awake a few minutes longer.

Linda pulled Steven's T-shirt up and lightly ran her finger tips along his firm stomach. Even in the darkness, she could feel the growth patterns in his body hair. She allowed her hand to follow the pattern down to his navel. She hesitated for a second, wondering if he would get an erection in his sleep, and more importantly, keep it long enough for her to play a little. It was an interesting question, one she didn't have enough experience with any man to know the answer. She didn't know, but there was only one way to find out!

Linda, being careful not to awaken Steven, slowly worked his undershorts down around his thighs. She stopped several times to listen to his steady breathing amazed that he hadn't awakened.

Hooking one toe in the waist band of the undershorts she gently slid them down around his ankles and over his feet. With her free hand, she slowly began to massage him. Much quicker than she expected, she could feel his penis becoming erect.

Still he slept on, undisturbed by her gentle and intimate fondling. Linda was both astounded and amused. She had always known that a man couldn't be raped by a woman, not an unwilling man anyway. Yet, Steven was proof that a woman could have sex with a man without his prior approval. She wondered if she could satisfy herself without waking him up.

Again, there was only one way to find out. Suppressing a giggle, Linda turned over and sat up on her knees. Hiking her nightgown above her waist, she swung her leg over her prone husband's hips. With her other hand she carefully guided the tip of his penis to the waiting opening between her legs. Slowly lowering herself, she wiggled a few times to make sure he was securely inside of her before she began to gently rock back and forth.

Slow and easy, she thought, savoring the sensation. Usually Steven moved much faster when he was controlling the penetration. With Linda on the top, she moved at a speed she liked, taking nearly twice as long to complete one cycle as Steven usually did, and allowing him to sink much deeper in the process.

If Steven lasts, I could go on like this all night, she thought to herself. She hadn't even worked up a sweat and was already nearly half way to an incredible orgasm.

She was understandably disappointed when she suddenly felt Steven begin to shrink and slip out of her. Swearing softly to herself, Linda reached between her legs to guide him back again.

Confused by what she thought she had felt, Linda moved off of Steven and carefully felt his groin. When she found his penis, it was still erect, still ready to complete the act she had started. But it didn't feel right. It was small, too small. She realized with a start that he hadn't lost his erection, as she had first suspected, but he was actually shrinking!

Linda turned on the bed lamp on the side table and blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted to the bright light. When she could see without having to squint, she pulled up Steven's T-shirt and nearly fainted. Her hands hadn't deceived her, he was shrinking!

Linda sat, arms tight around her bent knees watching Steven. Every now and then she would have to wipe the tears from her eyes as her husband of less than a week slowly changed from a man to a woman.

She didn't know how the change was accomplished, but she knew why it was happening. It was all Corrie's fault! She just knew it!

-0-0-0-

Dawn was breaking over the ocean when the changes in Steven appeared to slow and stop. There was no question that he could never qualify for the title of husband and father again.

Linda's horror over Steven's astonishing transformation had slowly changed as well. It had changed from shock and dismay to bewilderment and finally to anger. Anger that had first been directed toward Steven and had caused her to strike one of his shapely thighs with her fist, then to who she knew was the real cause.

"Corrie, you bitch!" Linda stood on the porch and screamed. "I know you're out there, damn you! I want to talk to you, right now! Corrie, if you know what's good for you, you'll haul your fat ass down here, before I have to come looking for you!"

Corrie was awakened by Linda's screams. Smiling to herself, she left her car and crawled up to the crest of the sand dune. She had forgotten to bring her binoculars. It didn't matter, she could see Linda standing on the bottom step of the porch still dressed in her nightgown screaming her head off.

Grinning to herself, Corrie stood and brushed the sand from her jeans. Time to face her cousin, and let her know the reason for all of this. She wished that she could have been there when Steven had begun his change. It would have been an even better revenge to have watched the look on Linda's face.

-0-0-0-

Steven awoke to the sounds of an argument coming from the living room down stairs. He laid motionless, listening to the two voices. He recognized Linda's immediately, it took him a second longer to realize that the other voice was his ex-girl friend, Corrie Malone.

What was she doing here? he wondered.

The voices were loud enough to have disturbed his sleep, but not quite loud enough to make out what they were saying. Something about some kind of change...?

Steven sighed and stretched. He might as well get up and see if he could intervene before the loud verbal argument became physical.

He started to sit up and was astonished to see that he was wearing what looked like a huge black cotton nightshirt. A nightshirt that was the exact duplicate of a "Grateful Dead" T-shirt he'd liked and bought the previous summer. An exact duplicate right down to the small bleach stain on one of the sleeves!

He vaguely remembered wearing the T-shirt to bed, along with a pair of his undershorts, which seemed to be missing, but knew that while it had been a little large, it hadn't been this big!

What the Hell was going on here? he thought. He suddenly realized that there was an unaccustomed accustomed weight on his chest, one that moved at a slightly different speed that his body did. He pulled the neck of the T-shirt out and looked through the large gap at his chest.

-0-0-0-

"You always were jealous over anything I did!" Linda screamed at Corrie.

"Jealous? Me? That's a laugh! You're the one that's jealous!"

"I am not," Linda denied. "I don't have a jealous bone in my body!"

"No? Then why did you steal Steven away from me? You bitch! You don't even love him, at least not as much as I did!"

-0-0-0-

Steven was stunned to see two perfectly formed women's breasts firmly attached to his chest. "Where the Hell did these come from?" he asked himself. He was surprised to hear the sound of his voice, higher in timbre, soft and undeniable feminine sounding.

It was almost as if he had... Steven's hand shot to his groin.

"What the fuck!" Steven exclaimed softly as he felt his flat front through the T-shirt.

He jerked the T-shirt off, or tried to. He discovered that he not only was he sitting on tail of the T-shirt, which was long to begin with, but it now extend to just above his knees. The only way he would be able to get it off would be to either go through some strenuous body contortions or get out of bed.

He chose the lesser of the two and slid out of the king sized bed. Everything in the room seemed to have grown about forty percent larger -- or he had shrunk that amount. He bent over and grabbed the hem of the T-shirt and pulled upward.

Ignoring the sharp pain as he jerked the shirt past his breasts, Steven pulled it over his head and threw it on the bed.

Scarcely believing his eyes Steven inspected his nude body. His fingers had not deceived him, he was a woman!

He suddenly realized the significance of Corrie's wedding gift. The clothing hadn't been for Linda as he had originally thought, they had been intended for him!

-0-0-0-

"You bitch! You know that it wasn't my fault that you caught the measles from me! Your parents were the ones that insisted that you visit me when I was sick, not the other way around! Besides, that was in the third grade for Christ's sakes!" Corrie snapped.

"Yeah, and did you ever gloat when I finally came down with them!"

"I did no such thing!" Corrie protested indignantly. "And even if I did, it was only because you destroyed my most favorite doll!"

"Oh, so you're going to bring that up again, are you! I did not give my dog your damned doll! He just snuck into my room and chewed its head off!"

"Yeah right! He just unhooked his leash, opened two locked doors, climbed a flight of stairs and 'just snuck' into your bedroom without anyone seeing or hearing him!"

"That's right, he did!" Linda said defensively.

"That's a load of bull crap and you know it!" Corrie retorted.

"May be, but that didn't give you the excuse to..."

-0-0-0-

There was no question about it, he had been somehow transformed into a woman. A very short woman with short dirty blonde hair, a natural hair coloring if the shade of his pubic hair was any indication. The only consolation, small as it was, was that he had a terrific figure, better even than Linda's. He had thought her's was perfect, until he had seen his own.

Steven turned away from the mirror and sighed. He knew that he would be stuck like this forever. The changes had been too profound, too deep and he suspected as he pressed the area just below his navel, too complete to go back to normal.

If he'd just suddenly grown breasts he could have had surgery to have them removed and continue on with his life as though nothing had happened. Even if he'd lost his penis and testicles through an accident or some strange illness, he could have continued on as Steven, slightly altered and unable to be a father again, but still himself.

A father -- Linda and his baby.

He shivered again. He didn't know if it was from the cold or the realization that he could never again hold the title "father" to some small child. Still, he had the potential to be a parent in what he suspected would be an even more fulfilling and satisfying role.

No, there would be no turning back. Steven had always liked a challenge and now he was facing the greatest of his life. Everything he had ever worked for, every experience, every thing he had ever loved, even the woman he married were alien to the body that had suddenly been thrust upon him.

It was too bad, but there was no way they could continue with the marriage now, not after what had happened. He would miss sleeping with Linda, she'd been a great lay, had really known how to make a man happy. Steven shivered slightly as he gently traced a line across his lower abdomen with his finger tips. Now it would be his turn to make some man happy.

Steven listened to the angry voices coming from the living room below. Linda and Corrie were still at it. He had better go down stairs before it got out of hand.

Sighing again, he walked lightly to the box of clothing. The first thing he would need was a pair of panties, maybe the teal string bikinis, then he would have to figure out how to put a bra on...

-0-0-0-

"Corrie, we may have hated each other and tried to pull dirty tricks on each other, but nothing I ever did was deserving of this dirty trick!"

"Ha! What about stealing Steven away from me in the first place? That was the lowest thing you could have ever done." Corrie countered.

Steven walked into the room and stood silently watching the two women argue. Neither noticed him standing in the doorway. He was strangely disappointed they hadn't. It was the first time in his life he had worn women's clothing and he wanted to see their reaction to the form fitting jeans and top he was wearing.

It would do no good to try to stop them, this had obviously been building up for a long time. From the snatches of conversation he'd been able to hear upstairs they were cousins and bitter rivals. Each had practiced their own version of Brinksmanship, increasing the stakes until he had married Linda. When Linda and he had been married, Corrie had devised some way to change his sex so that they wouldn't remain married.

"You should have worked a little harder at keeping him. Like I did," Linda replied smugly.

"By getting knocked up you mean, no thank you! By the way, is it even his?" Corrie shot back. Steven's ears perked up when Linda suddenly reddened.

"It's not his!" Corrie shouted in triumph. Linda's embarrassed blush deepened. Corrie's shot in the dark had hit the mark. "You got yourself knocked up by someone else and then blamed it on Steven! My God, Linda that's the lowest thing you could ever do to a man. I would never stoop that low!"

"Oh yeah? Only because you didn't think of it first. What about what you've done to him? Turning a normal healthy male into a woman doesn't even begin to be on the scale. At least using the excuse of a pregnancy to get married has some traditional precedent," Linda said lamely. She had been caught with her panties down so to speak and she knew it. The two women fell silent, Corrie triumphant and Linda humbled by the discovery of her deception.

Steven took the momentary silence to walk further in the room. Both Corrie and Linda looked up at him. Their reactions were different, Corrie looked smugly pleased, while Linda looked as though she wanted to cry.

"It seems ladies, that we have something to talk about, don't we," Steven said.

Corrie was the first to speak. "I see that you found the earrings," she commented.

Steven fingered one of the gold rings in his ears and smiled wryly as he sat in the chair facing the two women on the couch.

"I thought I might as well. The holes were already there. But then again you obviously knew they would be."

"I suspected they would be," Corrie confirmed.

"Steven, I..." Linda started, only to be broken off by Steven as he raised his hand.

"Call me Stephanine. Given the circumstances, a girl's name seems more -- appropriate now," Steven said. There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "I've been listening to the two of you arguing for the last hour. I've come to the conclusion that I've been nothing but a pawn in your childish battle of one Brinksmanship."

"Oh, honey, that's not true," Linda said. "I really did love you."

"So did I," Corrie chorused. Her pronouncement brought a sharp look from Steven and a look of pure hatred form Linda.

"You sure have a strange way of showing your love, Corrie."

Corrie blushed and looked at the floor. She wasn't ashamed at what she had arranged to happen, it had been the ultimate revenge against Linda. The fact that Steven would literally never be the same didn't bother her as much as losing him in the first place.

"And you, Linda," Steven turned his attention to his wife. "You used the past tense of love a little too quickly. I don't think that you ever did love me. I was just something that Corrie had and you wanted badly enough to use someone else's baby to get me to marry you... That, even if it had been my baby, is beneath contempt. I think you're both sick, sick and depraved beyond words!"

Both women looked down in embarrassment, avoiding the accusing stare from a righteously angry Steven.

"Linda, you can file for an annulment as soon as you go back to Weverville tonight for all I care. I have no wish to remain married to you even if I were still Steven and a man. And you Corrie, you can crawl back into whatever hole you climbed out of."

"What are you going to do?" Linda asked. Steven was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Me? What I should do is take a gun and shoot you both!" The two women flinched at the threat. "But I won't. I think that just knowing what you've done to me and yourselves punishment will be enough. It's a secret that you'll have to live with for the rest of your life."

"Stephanie, I'm really sorry about all this. If there is anything I can do..." Corrie's voice trailed off when she suspected that she'd done enough already. Steven surprised her by looking thoughtful then grinning.

"Interesting that you should ask, Corrie. There are a few things you can do." Sensing that she was giving a reprieve Corrie looked up expectantly. "In fact both of you can."

"Anything within reason," Corrie qualified.

"I'll do anything you ask," Linda said bringing a glare from Corrie.

Steven shook his head, they were still competing, even now. They haven't learned a thing, Steven sighed.

"Alright, first of all, I'm going to need more clothing. Everything I own obviously doesn't fit any longer." The two women nodded simultaneously. "The next thing I'll need is an apartment, rent free, for say, six months."

Again the simultaneous nod. "Daddy has some apartments that he manages, he can find something that we can afford," Corrie said to Linda.

"And finally, I need a store, something located in the village will do nicely."

"A store? What in the world would you want that for?" Linda asked curiously.

"Why for the business, of course. I have a Bachelors and almost a Master's in Business, and I intend to put my education to good use."

Their curiosity sparked, both women looked first at each other then back at Steven. "What kind of business?" Corrie asked.

"Why I thought that would be obvious," Steven said seeming surprised by her question. "I'm going to open up a Junior Petite Clothing Boutique specializing in size 5. I'm going to make a fortune selling clothing to the occupants of this house!"

Part 6: "Heather's Story"

The Dark Crystal story so far.

The Dark Crystal, a shape changing crystal and a major component of interstellar survival kits, is lost in space when a private interstellar vessel is involved in a violent collision with a piece of space junk.

The sole passengers of the vessel are a mother and her teenage son returning home from a visit with her parents. Neither are injured, but the son finds himself in a rather embarrassing situation for a healthy young male. He is trapped in the body of a beautiful young woman. A woman's body that he, himself, had designed purely for his own pleasure!!!

A victim of awakening teenage hormones, the young male had grown curious during the long trip home about the yet to be explored mystery called sex. Under normal circumstances, and at home, he would have merely call one of a dozen willing, and equally inexperienced, girl friends and experiment to his heart's content, or total exhaustion, whichever came first.

Even aboard the ship, he could have satisfied his curiosity by using an SSP, a Surrogate Sex Partner. SSP's are robotic sex partners that duplicate the sexuality of either a male or female, depending on the model. Their use is considered harmless amusement and are especially popular on long voyages. They've prove so popular with crew members that they're now considered an important, almost essential, part of a ship's standard recreational equipment even on shorter interplanetary trips.

On this particular trip however, there was a slight problem exercising the second option. His mother, underestimating her son's stage of maturity, hadn't thought to include a female version of the male model SSP she'd brought for herself to use during the home journey.

Not having a suitable partner, the son is faced with the decision of either waiting until they arrive home, an impossibly long time to wait for something as important as the discovery of sex, or use the Dark Crystal to make some drastic alterations to his body. By changing from male to female he can take advantage of his mother's SSP in the mode it was designed to operate.

Too anxious to wait, he decided to take it anyway he can and uses the crystal to change his male body for one that is virtually indistinguishable from a genetic female.

He has just experienced the delights of his first ever sexual encounter as a female when his mother discovers him in a rather compromising position. The mother is greatly amused by her son's image of the ideal female form and tolerant of his experimentation. She realizes, however, that his changed form could create some problems if he decided to remain a female for the rest of the trip. She orders her son to change back to his original form, a male, or his father will have to be told.

At that point in the story, a piece of space junk strikes the ship causing severe damage to their vessel and loss of the Dark Crystal. The loss of the Crystal forces the young man to remain a female much longer than he intended or could have imagined.

The son's stateroom (and the Dark Crystal), separated from the ship by the collision, is now little more than a massive piece of space junk itself. It enters into a decaying orbit around the third plant of a yellow sun. Eventually, the compartment and the Crystal enter the atmosphere where the two finally become separated. What remains of the compartment falls into the ocean, while the nearly indestructible Crystal falls unnoticed on a beach near a young father and his two children.

Christopher Robbins, a five year old and the youngest child of a family of four, finds it and, believing the Crystal to be a "magic" stone, slips it into the pocket of his shorts.

In the chapters that follow, the shape changing Crystal functions as it was designed, and programmed, to do. The lives of a number of males are profoundly changed, no pun intended, beginning with young Christopher and his father John Robbins.

In short order others are unwittingly changed into females, a cross dresser with a very understanding wife, an old man who proves that you can teach old dogs new tricks, and a bridegroom who was a victim of more than the Crystal.

To learn more about the people the Dark Crystal changes, please download and read the Dark Crystal Stories.

PART SIX

"HEATHER'S STORY"

It has been five years since the Dark Crystal made it's first appearance on a lonely stretch of beach near a vacation home.

-0-0-0-

When Frank Williams first laid eyes on Heather, it was near midnight on a busy night in the casino. He'd had a fairly successful evening at the tables and was heading back to his car.

She was slowly, almost regally, descending down the long flight of stairs leading from the lobby of the hotel to the casino below.

Heather, although he didn't know her name yet, was dressed in a floor length, clingy spaghetti strap evening gown with a deep "V" neckline that descended to just below her impressive breasts. A long slit in the snow white evening gown rose from the floor to just above mid thigh, allowing momentary flashes of her bare, well tanned left leg. On her bare feet were white, high heeled sandals.

Her flawless skin was well tanned and without the unusual tan lines of a bathing suit on her virtually bare shoulders. She appeared to be about twenty five years old, but could have been five years either way. Five to ten years junior to Frank's age of thirty five.

Her makeup was light, almost non-existent, subtly enhancing rather than overpowering the blonde's breathtaking features. Her finger nails were long and while unpolished, glistened with a natural sheen that indicated meticulous care.

Here was a woman who knew the almost imperceptible difference between looking natural and being natural, Frank thought. She was sophisticated far beyond her years would imply.

Long, dangling diamond earrings sparkled in rhythm with the slightest movement of her head. Around her left ankle, an impossibly thin gold chain was fastened, while her beautiful slender neck was the bronzed backdrop for a choker style necklace made of a triple row of diamonds.

Frank glanced at the ring finger on her left hand, nodding with relief that she was not wearing a wedding ring. That would have made it awkward, if not impossible to approach her.

As she moved closer to Frank it became obvious to him that her legs were not the only thing that was bare under the dress. Faint, but distinct outlines of her nipples were visible beneath the soft, clinging fabric of the gown.

Frank smiled, wondering briefly if she had neglected to wear panties as well.

Her natural, dark honey blonde hair was done up in a French bun, held in place by a long narrow comb. She had the most incredibly blue eyes Frank had ever seen. The color of her eyes, while striking by itself, was not the most extraordinary thing about her.

She was as tiny as a child, even in her high heeled sandals. No more than five two, Frank estimated correctly. Although her child sized body was slender and lithesome in appearance, there was no question that she was a very desirable woman. Her breasts were large, perhaps a "C" cup in size while her slender hips were decidedly curvacious, well formed and in perfect proportion to her height.

A very impressive body on a very beautiful woman.

Although Frank usually dated women who were much taller, he was in love with the beautiful blonde before her dainty, sandal clad foot stepped off the stairs to touch the floor of the casino. Awed by her incredible beauty, Frank decided to risk scorn and rejection.

With each deliberate step, her eyes scanned the crowed on the casino floor below. It was not the purposeful searching look of one who is looking for someone she knew, but more of a curious interest in what everyone was doing. Her gaze passed over Frank and moved on, only to return to cooly study him for a fraction of a second. Frank knew that if her eyes left him again he would never have another chance.

"Excuse me," he began hesitantly, only to pause in confusion when he saw the odd look in her deep blue eyes.

"Yes?" she asked in a clear, soft voice that sounded as honey flavored as the color of her hair. Her expression which had been impassive before, slowly broke into a faint, slightly crooked, smile.

"Uh, do we know each other?" he asked, confused by her obvious look of recognition.

"We do, yes. That is, no, not really, not now."

Frank became thoroughly confused. "My most abject apologies, Miss, uh. As much as I would love to say I remember you," he fumbled for a second, then quickly recovered with the truth. "Uh, I'm sorry, but I have absolutely no idea who you are."

"No?" The blonde's smile extended to the rest of her face, revealing a hint of her perfect, brilliantly white teeth. "Of course not, there's no reason on Earth that you should. My name is Heather, Heather Johnson, and you're Frank Williams, right?"

"Uh, right."

Heather held out her hand. Frank suppressed the sudden urge to bring it up to his lips and kiss it. He took it in his own and held it briefly instead. Her grip was warm, dry and softly feminine, yet Frank thought he detected a slight tremor just before he released it. Heather's smile grew wider as she allowed her hand to drop limply to her side.

"Now that's over, what do you say about some dinner?" she suggested boldly. "I've been told that the food in the casino's buffet is excellent."

Frank, who had eaten in there several times previously, nodded. It was one of the few times in his life that he was totally speechless.

"Of course, you'll have to pay," the blonde continued, "I'm afraid my dress wasn't designed for a pocket I could slip my money in."

Frank glanced at her figure under the dress, frankly admiring what he saw. He realized that while she not only didn't have a wallet, she hadn't been carrying a purse either.

"No, it doesn't does it? I'm glad it doesn't, the lump of even a thin dime would ruin your marvelous figure." The last sort of slipped out, much to Frank's embarrassment.

Heather merely smiled as though she'd received similar compliments many times before. She turned slightly toward the main part of the casino floor, bending her arm closest to Frank as she completed the turn. "Shall we?" she asked.

Frank took the none too subtle hint and took her arm in his. He adjusted his normally lengthy stride to her much shorter steps and arm in arm they strolled across the crowed room to the buffet. Neither noticed the heads that turned to watch the stately progress of the tall man and the stunning petite blonde in an evening gown as they walked across the carpeted floor.

Most of the observers, if questioned later, would not have remembered either her companion, or if they had, that he had wearing much more casual jeans and tweed sports coat.

-0-0-0-

They exchanged small talk during the excellent meal. Heather was mysteriously vague about her life, saying only that she had just returned from a journey. Frank on the other hand, told her almost his entire life story. Oddly, there had been times when she seemed to almost know what he was going to say before he said it.

After they had eaten, Frank suggested that they take a walk through the garden around the hotel pool, making his intentions obviously clear to both of them. Heather appearing nervous over the idea, demurred saying that she'd had a late night and wished to retire early. Alone.

"But I'll be more than pleased to walk thorough the garden tomorrow night if you wish," she had said softly.

It would be the first of many dates.

-0-0-0-

After nearly a month of dating Heather, who seemed to be a semipermanent residence of the hotel, Frank had grown increasingly confused about his relationship with the beautiful woman.

There was no question that he was attracted to the beautiful woman. He had grown deeply in love with her almost from the first instant he had laid eyes on her. But he was confused about Heather's feelings toward himself. He kept getting mixed signals, almost as if she were being torn between expressing some affection toward him or telling him to get lost.

She was friendly enough, even to the point of using terms of endearment when she spoke to him, even allowing him to kiss her on the cheek occasionally, but no more than that. She seemed to draw away from him every time he tried to move the relationship forward.

It was almost as if she were a shy young virgin saving herself for her future husband, even to the point of forgoing dating. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, except Frank seriously doubted that she was a virgin. Someone as beautiful and sexy looking as Heather would attract every Don Quan that was ever born. And no matter how strong willed a woman was, somewhere, somehow, one of them would have come up with a line that would have melted her heart and broken her maidenhead.

It wasn't that she was seeing someone else, Frank had very discreetly checked on that. She lived alone in one of the hotel's most expensive five room penthouse suites and had never been seen with any other man save himself. He discovered that she paid her own bills, and in cash. From the way his information sources had acted, she was very wealthy. Lonely and wealthy, a state that someone less scrupulous than Frank, would see as an ideal combination for exploitation. Other than those few basic facts, he had learned nothing more about her background.

Frank wasn't interested in her money, just Heather herself. He was however, bewildered. It was almost as if he was being tested in some strange manner, and not just because of her money. She was a mystery that begged to be solved.

Finally, Frank's curiosity and frustration got the better of him. He decided that the direct approach would be the only way he'd ever find out the answers to his questions. He would just come right out and ask her what the problem was the first opportunity he had to be alone with her.

It came the next day as they returned to Heather's hotel room to change from a relaxing afternoon at the hotel's pool. It had been the first time that Frank had ever seen Heather in a bathing suit, Her tiny bikini clad body was everything he'd imagined it to be. He loved looking at it and frankly wanted to see more.

When it came time to end the relaxing afternoon, the plan had been for Heather to change first, then they would drive over to Frank's. After that they'd tentatively planned on a quiet dinner and show.

As they rode the swift elevator up to the penthouses, Frank decided now was as good a time as ever to confront Heather.

-0-0-0-

Frank asked Heather the question as she closed the door of her hotel room behind them.

"Problem? I'm sorry if you have the impression that there's some kind of problem between us. I can assure you that I don't think there is." Heather had responded, surprised that he could think such a thing.

"Then why do you draw away from me every time I try to go beyond holding your hand and kissing your cheek when we say goodnight?" Frank demanded. "I mean, every time I try to kiss or touch you anywhere but your hands or cheek, you stiffen and turn away. I thought you liked me."

Inexplicably, Heather looked as if she were about to burst into tears. "Of course, I like you, Frank. I, I think I may even love you. It's just that I..."

A horrible thought crossed Frank's mind. "You're not one of those women that like other girls are you?"

Instead of becoming outraged, Heather shook her head and smiled ruefully. "No, not really. At least, not any longer."

"Not any longer? What is that supposed to mean?" Frank asked quickly, bothered by the ambiguous reply.

"Frank, I have a secret past. One that is unbelievable even to me and I know it's true, because I lived through it."

"A secret past? What kind of secret? You're not married are you?" Frank asked suddenly wary. If nothing else, Frank had a certain, if rather quaint, sense of honor. A married woman was off limits regardless of circumstances.

Heather's smile appeared faintly distress, as though she were reliving an old painful memory. She shook her head. "I was, once, but no longer. I do have three wonderful daughters, though. But that isn't it, not really," she replied distantly.

Her admission that she'd been married hadn't really surprised Frank, but her casual, almost offhanded, statement about having three children had. He instinctively glanced at her abdomen framed between the two halves of her bikini and the open front of the short terry cloth cover up she wore.

He'd been looking for signs of stretch marks, something that Frank thought would have been unavoidable for a woman who had carried three babies to full term. But her body was as smooth and blemish free as a virgin half her age. What was her secret then if it wasn't having had a husband and three kids before Frank had met her?

There were so many things in the world that a young and beautiful woman like Heather could become involved in. Having an ex-husband and kids were the least of them, drugs and a life of crime were a lot more serious. Or had she simply been one of those women who, for what ever reason, had just walked out on her responsibilities?

Heather continued to smiled up at him. Her smile faded slightly when she saw the look of caution on his face.

"Oh, dear sweet Frank," she said softly, her amusement unmistakable in her voice, "It's not what you're thinking. No, it's much, much stranger than anything you could ever possibly imagine."

"What then?"

Heather hesitated, glancing down at her firm breasts, barely covered by her skimpy bikini top. "Perhaps I should change into something a little less, uh, something else..."

Frank allowed his eyes to travel up and down Heather's firm youthful bikini clad body. "You look fine to me." He saw the look in her face and relented, "Unless, you'd feel more comfortable...?"

She nodded slowly as if she had momentarily debated not changing her clothing after all. She abruptly turned and disappeared into the suite's bedroom.

Frank self consciously wrapped his robe around his body, covering up his own bathing suit. Maybe I should go home and change too, he though. No, he decided, I have a feeling that what Heather is so reluctant to tell me will affect us for the rest of our lives. If he left now, he might never find out what it was. He would stay to the very end, although he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer any longer.

A fifteen minutes later Heather reappeared, pausing at the doorway momentarily as if she were making the grand entrance in a ballroom.

Her attire, white silk pants and a matching cropped tank top, flowed softly over her body and made her appear defenseless and exceptionally feminine. Designed to revealed far more than it concealed, her outfit was infinitely sexier than her bikini swim suit. The filmy white silk pants fit snugly around her hips and flowed straight down from the top of her thighs to her ankles.

The top was as filmy as the pants. The deeply scooped neckline displayed enough of her breasts to confirm that she wore no bra underneath. A fact that Frank had already surmised from the movement under the loose fitting top as she'd walked barefoot into the room.

Through the thin fabric of her elastic waisted pants, Frank could detect a faint, slightly darker white shadow of a pair of string bikini panties that could have barely covered the bikini trimmed patch of hair between her legs.

Frank could feel himself becoming aroused, an almost natural state when he was with Heather, just watching her as she moved from the door to the couch.

"Better?" Frank asked, unable to keep his eyes off her bare, well tanned midriff and silk covered breasts. Even though his robe covered as much if, not more, Heather's clothing, he felt strangely over dressed as if he should be wearing a pair of pajamas or something. He pulled his robe tighter around his body to conceal his growing hardness.

Heather smiled and nodded slightly, knowing exactly the effect she was having on her handsome companion. "I took a quick shower to wash off the suntan oil off. I hope you didn't mind the wait."

Frank smiled indulgently, "It was pure agony. But seeing you in that outfit was worth waiting until eternity if necessary."

Although she'd grown accustomed to compliments over the past few years, Heather could feel the warmth of a blush spreading over her body. This was not going the way she had envisioned it. She mentally shook herself.

"Thank you dear, that was very nice. Now then, please sit down, darling," she said, motioning toward the couch facing the picture window of the suite. "We have a lot of serious talking ahead of us."

Frank, sensing that this was not the time to express his desire for Heather, sat down at the far end of the couch. Heather smiled her thanks and sat down on the other end, facing Frank. She demurely drew her legs up and tucked her bare feet under her.

"You remember John Robbins, don't you?" Heather began without preamble.

Frank looked startled, then nodded slowly. He hadn't thought about John Robbins in years. "He was my father's business partner. He died in a swimming accident about five years ago, while on vacation." Frank paused, thinking briefly how upset his father had been when he had learned about John's death. He'd attended the memorial service for Robbins with his father, and had been embarrassed when the older man had broken down in tears. He'd only met John a couple of times and hadn't known him that well but knew his father had thought highly of him.

"What does John Robbins have to do with your 'secret past'?"

"Quite a bit, actually. You know they couldn't recover his body?" Heather waited until Frank nodded conformation. "That was because there never was one," Heather replied. Frank shot a look of disbelief toward the diminutive woman.

"What are you talking about, 'never was one'? Of course there wasn't a body, it was swept out to sea," Frank paused, eyeing Heather suspiciously, "How did you know that there wasn't a body?"

"Because, my beloved, John Robbins didn't die in a swimming accident."

"He didn't?" Frank asked, surprised. "Then what happened to him? How did he die"

Heather looked steadily at Frank and very calmly announced. "John Robbins is very much alive and right here in the hotel suite with you."

"What? He is? Where?" Frank involuntary looked around wildly, fully expecting to see a ghost walk through one of the closed bedroom doors.

"Right here, darling, sitting right beside you. I am John Robbins," Heather said softly. "I faked my death, five years ago."

Frank stared at the blonde shaking his head, not knowing whether to call a doctor or laugh at her preposterous "confession". Disbelief was written all over his face as he laughed the second time in less than two minutes.

Heather sighed, knowing this wouldn't be easy. "Really, sweetheart, I am the person once known to the world as John Robbins, a man, husband to Karen Robbins and father of three beautiful little girls and your father's business partner."

Frank shook his head again, abruptly convinced that the girl that he'd fallen in love with had suddenly lost her mind. There was absolutely no way, this beautiful, petite blonde could have been John Robbins! John had been at least a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier and, the incontestable clincher, a man.

"There's absolutely no way you could make me believe that you're John Robbins. For that matter, I can't I believe that you think I would," Frank said flatly.

"But it's true, Frank darling. I am, or was, John Robbins," Heather insisted.

"I've got to go," Frank responded quickly. He rose to his feet, firmly convinced that whatever had been between himself and Heather had played itself out. It was a terrible disappointment, but survivable if he left now and never looked back.

Before Frank could move to toward the door however, Heather leaped to her feet and moved quickly to block him from leaving. Both knew the tiny blonde couldn't have prevented him from leaving if he'd wanted to. However, Frank really love her and the determined look on her beautiful face forced Frank to pause momentarily to see what she would do next.

Frank was pleasantly surprised when Heather slipped her arms under his robe and around his waist. Pressing herself tightly against his body, she rested her smooth cheek against his bare chest. He enjoyed the sensation, but it wasn't enough to change his mind.

"Frank, please don't," she pleaded, gripping him tightly to her.

"Heather, I -- I'm sorry." Frank began to remove Heather's arms from around his waist, stopping only when he felt the wetness of her sudden tears on his chest. He paused, his heart melting in sympathy. She was seriously ill, it was the least he could do to let her try to talk it out.

"Please, Frank," she pleaded again, much weaker as though she had already lost her appeal. "Please stay and listen to me. I've lived with this for far too long not to tell someone about it. If you still want to walk out when I'm through, I won't stop you. I, I'll understand."

"Alright," Frank sighed. "I didn't have anything planed for the rest of the afternoon anyway."

Heather reached her arms up around Frank's neck and pulled his face down to hers. Wiping her tears away with one hand she gave him a quick kiss on the lips, murmuring, "Thank you, thank you", several times.

Frank allowed Heather to gently push him back onto the couch. She sat down beside him and took his hand in hers, obviously struggling to compose herself. Frank kept his hand intentionally limp, not wanting to give the impression that he had believed any of what she had said so far. He gazed dispassionately down at her, as if he were daring her to convince him that the sun rose in the West or that a beautiful and very petite woman could have once been a six foot tall man.

Undaunted, Heather began where she had left off. "Five years ago next month, Karen and I went on vacation with and our two kids, Wendy, who was seven at the time and our son Christopher who was five."

"Wait a second," Frank interjected, "here you are beginning some cock and bull story about you being John Robbins and before you even get started, you've screwed up your facts."

"What makes you think that, Frank?" Heather asked slightly annoyed by the interruption.

"Not ten minutes ago you said you had three daughters, not a boy and a girl."

Heather sighed to herself, she could tell that it was going to be a long night. "That was what we had, when we started out on our vacation. Now then, darling, if you would just shut up for a while, you'll learn the incredible story of how John Robbins, the me that I used to be, became Heather Johnson, the me that sits beside you now."

Frank started to open his mouth to protest again. Heather quickly pressed her slender finger tips to his lips. "Please, darling. Don't make this any more difficult than it already is."

Frank sighed silently and nodded. The fewer interruptions he made, the quicker she would finish and the quicker he could get out of here, he had decided.

Heather removed her fingers from his lips and grasped his hand again. "As I was saying. Karen and I had rented a beach house for two weeks for our summer vacation. A few nights before we were scheduled to return home, the kids and I were on the beach watching shooting stars. Karen had already gone back to the beach house to clean up and make some hot chocolate...."

-0-0-0-

Author's note:

Heather began telling Frank her story contained in part two of the Dark Crystal stories. To repeat it here would take even longer, as Heather broke down in tears many times during the telling. Each time she managed to compose herself and continue as Frank grew more fascinated by the story. When she reached the point where the Dark Crystal had changed the sex of her young son and herself, she broke down and sobbed her heart out for nearly half an hour.

It was all Frank could do, to just hold her in his arms and let the beautiful Heather work it out without breaking down in tears himself. If you are interested in the story of how John became the beautiful Heather, I can only suggest you download the Dark Crystal Stories by Olivia Evans and enjoy.

-0-0-0-

"I'm sorry, while that was an entertaining story," Frank said rising from the couch and stretching, "you still haven't convinced me that you are, or were John Robbins."

"I am who I say I am, Frank," Heather said softly up at the standing figure of her companion. "What if what I've just told you is not the absolute truth, then why would I have lied to you?"

Heather followed Frank with her eyes as he walked over to the suite's picture window and stared out at the desert. While the view was spectacular this time of the day, Heather suspected he wasn't really seeing anything beyond the sheet of glass. She sat silently waiting, not knowing what else she could have done.

Frank stared silent out the window for a long time, oblivious to the spectacular sunset and obviously thinking about what Heather had said.

Was she telling the truth, as impossible as it seemed, or not? There is an old adage, about truth being stranger than fiction. But her chronicle of handling a crystal her son had found, going to sleep, then awakening to finding herself trapped in the body of a woman, was beyond the realm of "strange", it was inconceivably bizarre.

On the other hand, some times even what appeared to be humanly impossible, was. Frank brought his finger tips to his temple and rubbed them trying to ease the whirlwind of contradictory thoughts racing though his mind. It didn't seem to help much.

Finally making up his mind, Frank turned and faced Heather.

Heather didn't know how to interpret the odd look on his face when Frank spun around and faced her. She suddenly felt a chill of fear that she'd lost Frank for good.

"Alright," Frank began, "let's assume for the moment that what you've told me is true. You are, were John Robbins, and some rock that washed up from the ocean changed your physical appearance and sex. I have two questions for you. Why didn't your wife, Karen, or your real daughter, Wendy isn't it, change as your son and you had? And secondly, what happened after you left the vacation home?"

Heather relaxed and smiled inwardly. Frank was finally beginning to believe. Thank God!

"I've wondered about why they didn't end up looking like me, thousands of times. The only explanation I can think is the basic difference in our chromosomes."

"Your chromosomes?"

"You know that genetic female chromosomes are 'XX' while male chromosomes are 'XY', don't you?"

"Sure, everyone knows that," Frank said impatiently, "how do you think that figures in?'

"This is only a guess on my part, but I think that the crystal's 'powers', for lack of a better term, was triggered by the 'Y' half. When it sensed the 'Y" it simply added another leg, making the 'Y" an 'X'. Although 'simply' is probably the mildest understatement you'll hear from me tonight. Anyway, since Karen and Wendy already had the 'extra' leg, they were totally unaffected by the crystal's powers. That's why they didn't end up being males or the same sizes as Chris and I did."

Frank thought about it for a moment or two. "That sounds plausible, I guess, although you'll have to admit, the entire concept is hard to swallow."

"It's even harder to swallow when its your own chromosomes that receive the 'benefits' of that extra 'leg'," Heather smiled ruefully.

Frank nodded his silent agreement. "But what about the rest of the changes? If it had been as simple as changing your chromosomes from a 'XY' to an 'XX', then logic would dictate that you should have end up being a female version of your old self."

"You're right, it should have. That's what has me stumped. Chris and I appear to share much of the same basic physiological characteristics, other than our ages, we even had the same color of hair and hair style, almost too short for a girl's. Even stranger than that, our ears were pierced in the exact identical spots!"

"You're kidding!" Frank exclaimed. "That certainly couldn't have been just because your genes were altered."

"I can only assume that the Crystal was intentionally programmed in some way," Heather fell silent, once again pondering the other, equally inconceivable changes in her body.

"Well, if your looks are due to somebody's programing, I'm impressed. You're a very beautiful woman for someone that used to be a man," Frank laughed somewhat uneasily. "From what I remember of John Robbins, I don't think that he would have turned out half as sexy looking as you are."

Heather smiled her thanks. Frank's compliments had been unusual variations of the compliments she'd usually received since she had become a woman. Unusual, but not entirely unwelcomed, especially since they had come from Frank.

"But what about your mental state? I know if I'd had my sex suddenly changed without wanting it, I'd have probably killed myself."

Heather looked thoughtful before answering Frank's question. "I think that it would be harder to change over a long period of time knowing that you couldn't prevent it. As it was, the actual change was relatively quick and entirely painless. I actually slept through the whole thing." Heather had chosen her words carefully to avoid answering Frank's real question of how she could have accepted the change so easily.

Frank was not distracted so easily, however, "Quick and painless," Frank repeated. "But how did you feel about it?"

"That part of the story, will have to wait a while, beloved," Heather said smilingly. "It's getting late, and I'm starving. Why don't we have dinner, then we can talk about what happened to me then later this evening."

"Sounds good," Frank said starting to rise. He felt the pockets of his robe for his keys.

"Where are you going?" Heather asked, alarmed. Was he going to leave her after all? "I thought we could have room service bring something up and eat here."

"Heather dear, we were swimming all afternoon. My trunks are still damp and are beginning to chafe. I want to go home, take a shower to wash the chlorine off and change into some dry clothes."

"You could take a shower here, you know," Heather suggested.

"And wear something of your's afterwards?" Frank smiled and shook his head. "I don't think that anything of your's would fit, do you?"

Heather smiled at the thought of Frank trying to get into some of her clothing. It would be almost the exact reverse of what had happened to her after the Crystal had changed her to a female. "You know, one of the nice things about this terribly expensive hotel suite is that the hotel provides free bathrobes for their guests. The ones that they left for me are not quite my size. You could wear one of those."

Frank thought for a second and shook his head.

Heather thought quickly. "I could wash your back for you?" she suggested quietly, almost inaudibly.

Frank stared at the lovely creature that had just offered to join him in her shower. He'd detected the note of quiet desperation in her voice and felt ashamed of his earlier actions. A week ago, even 3 hours ago, he would have jumped at the chance. To do so now, would be to take advantage of an emotionally distraught and very vulnerable woman. On the other hand, given the state of her mind at the moment, he didn't dare leave her alone. There is no telling what she would to. Frank made up his mind.

"Alright, I'll shower here."

Heather nodded and began to remove her top. Frank saw what she was doing and put his hand over hers.

"Heather?" She looked up expectantly at him, her eyes dull. "Why don't you call room service while I take a shower. By myself, okay?"

Heather dropped her hands heavily to her side. "Okay," she repeated in a quiet voice that was as tiny as herself.

-0-0-0-

Frank took full advantage of the luxurious bathroom in Heather's suite. A shower that would have taken him ten minutes or less was stretched out to nearly half an hour, mainly because the hot water stayed hot. While he showered, he decided to sample the hotel's complementary shampoo and conditioner and shave using Heather's pink razor. He decided the shampoo and conditioner were of excellent quality and Heather's razor was a little dull.

But mostly he enjoyed drying off using the hotel towels. He'd never seen towels that big or that soft before. He was just reaching for one of the complementary bathrobes, as soft and fluffy as the towels, when Heather knocked on the door.

"Our dinner is here," she called through the door. Frank hurriedly wrapped the bathrobe over his naked body.

When Frank walked into the living room, he was astonished by what he saw. The room service department had gone out of their way to make the meal memorable for their favorite long time patron.

While Frank had been in the shower, a small crew had carefully set up a small round table near the big picture window. It was an abbreviated version of the formal dinning room sixteen stories below complete with a blindingly white table cloth and gold trimmed dinnerware.

Heather was already seated at the small table, staring at the lights of the city below far below the penthouse suite while she waited patiently for Frank. Standing slightly behind and to the right of her, was a waiter in a tuxedo with a small towel draped over his arm.

Sitting next to the table was an ice bucket with a cloth wrapped wine bottle. Frank had no doubt that it contained the most expensive wine in the house.

Two tall silver candle holder held thin beeswax tapers that were lit by the formally clad waiter as Frank walked into the room. Discreetly ignoring Frank's bathrobe, the waiter waited until Frank sat down before he lit the candles and showed the wine bottle label to Frank.

Frank nodded his approval, secretly impressed, it was the most expensive wine in the house. The waiter poured a small amount of wine in their glasses and then excused himself when Heather said they would serve themselves.

"Please call when you're done, madam. Someone will be right up to pick up the dirty dishes," he said, bowing slightly as he backed out of the door to the hallway.

As the door clicked shut, Frank and Heather looked at each other and began chuckling.

"All I asked for was two of tonight's specials. I had no idea it included a waiter. I wonder what he thought when you walked in wearing nothing but that bathrobe," Heather laughed. It had been the first time Heather had laughed since they had returned from the pool that afternoon.

"You should do that more often," Frank said seriously.

Suddenly self conscious, Heather looked questioningly at Frank. "Do what?"

"Laugh. You look much prettier when you do."

Heather bushed, feeling annoyed with herself for doing so. What was it about this man that with no more than a slight compliment, could make her feel as giddy as a school girl on her first date. Her blush deepened when she realized she had made a comparison to an event and emotion she'd never experienced, at least not as a female.

"Just be quiet and eat your dinner, will you?" Heather commanded, keeping her eyes carefully lowered to her plate.

Like the very first meal they had eaten together, their conversation was mostly small talk. Neither wanted to return to the afternoon's subject of conversation just yet.

-0-0-0-

The waiter and the clean up crew had come and gone nearly an hour before Heather picked up on the conversation again. By unspoken agreement they hadn't turned on the lights, preferring the soft glow coming in the window from the city and bright casino signs below.

Frank sat on the couch, watching Heather as she paced back and forth in front of the picture window. It was a trait John Robbins had when ever he had been under stress, or thinking hard about something.

In the softly defused light from the window, Heather's clothing had became nearly transparent, mere wisps of pale white mist that outlined Heather's breathtaking silhouette. It gave her body a ghostly, surreal like glow.

"You don't have to tell me anymore, if you don't want to," Frank said softly. In spite of the bizarre events of Heather's tale, Frank had grown fascinated with what had happened. He wanted very much for her to continue, but knew that it would come at the speed she wanted. He couldn't rush her.

Heather's silhouette shook its head. "No, I've started this, I have to finish it."

"Take your time," Frank said. "Why don't you start with your 'death'?"

"Ah, yes, my 'death'. After I'd been changed into a woman, I knew that no one would believe me if I claimed to be who I really was. The only logical thing to do was to officially kill off John Robbins, who no longer existed anyway. Of course, Karen would inherit everything, while I would have to start over."

"Karen reluctantly agreed. Karen drove me to a motel not far from our home, returned to the vacation home, then reported the 'accident'. The plan for my 'reappearance' as Heather Johnson, was really quite simple. Shortly after the memorial service, Karen's cousin, me, a drop out college freshman from Chicago, would show up to help out with the kids while she returned to work and played the grieving 'widow'. We figured that way we could still live together and not attract any unwanted attention."

"But it didn't quite work out that way?" Frank offered.

"Yes, it did. It worked quite well as a matter of fact, at first. Karen, keeping up the appearance of being the sole source of income, returned to work. I stayed home with the kids, which I enjoyed immensely. I think I became closer to Christina and Wendy as their older cousin, than I ever could have as their father."

Heather laughed ironically, "You know, in some respects it was funny. Before we had gone on that vacation, I'd never been able to find time for my family. Too busy earning a living was the usual excuse. The truth is, I'd had a difficult childhood and didn't really know how to relate to my family. Exchanging my penis and testicles for a vagina and ovaries had a profound effect on how I looked and felt about things."

"I can imagine," Frank chuckled, interrupting Heather.

Heather stared at Frank for a moment. "No, Frank you can't! Even with the wildest stretch of your imagination, you couldn't even begin to come close to comprehending what it felt like."

Chastened, Frank nodded.

"Afterwards, well, I really got into being an 'older sister' to my own children. I was delighted when we discovered that Karen was pregnant with Linda Marie. I had already gotten heavily into the feminine role of nurturing the girls and was looking forward to being the baby's 'nanny'. As Karen's pregnancy progressed, my nurturing 'instincts' grew. Up until about Karen's sixth month, I even seriously considered talking to her Gynecologist about giving me something so I could be a wet nurse to the baby."

"Didn't that bother you?" Frank asked, fascinated by Heather's frank dialogue. "I mean that's a little extreme don't you think?"

"No, not really. I was in my own little world of learning how to be a woman and I wanted to experience as much as I could as quickly as I could. This may be hard for you to understand, but initially it wasn't that difficult for me to accept being a female. Even when I discovered that while we're usually treated as second class citizens, I found being a woman can more fun than you could ever imagine."

"More fun being a woman? Even to the point of wanting to be a wet nurse? No, thank you, I'm happy the way I am," Frank laughed lightly.

"Of course you are, darling, after all, you're just a man and don't know any better." Heather laughed softly to herself, thinking that she would have said the same thing herself, if the situation had been reversed. "As I said before, you couldn't even begin to understand how wonderful being a female and feeling feminine all the time can be. If you had gone through what I did...," she trailed off, eyeing Frank speculatively.

"Seriously, why do you think you found it was easy? From what I remember of John, he, you were pretty macho."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" Heather said distantly, thinking about how she had acted as a man. So alien to what she felt now that it was almost as if she had been living a bad dream. Maybe it had been.

"Apparently there had been some kind of mood modifier subroutine in the Crystal's program or design, that made it easy for me to accept being a woman. Even having periods didn't bother me that much. As I said, for the first six or seven months everything was fine, no, more than fine, it was wonderful. As the modifier programing began wearing off however, I began suffering from 'panic' attacks. I felt like a man trapped in a woman's body, the literal truth. Poor Karen, I almost drove her crazy with my antics."

"For weeks at a time, I refused to leave the house, afraid that someone would recognize me as being John Robbins wearing a body that certainly didn't belong to me. Intellectually, I knew that would be impossible, there had been too many changes in my anatomy, but I was terrified of the idea of discovery anyway. On those few times when I did leave, I would try to disguise my appearance as much as possible. I decided the best disguise was the exact opposite of what I had become, so I began wearing nothing but men's clothing. In my confused state, I thought that if I looked like a man, no one would suspect that I wasn't what I seemed. Not very logical, I'll admit, but it was the only way I could cope."

Heather paused and laughed bitterly. "As time wore on, my denial of the reality of my new gender became stronger. I hated the way I looked, the way I moved when I walked, the sound of my voice, the weakness of my body, my hair which was growing out, even Karen who refused to let me cut it short again, anything that was feminine about me, I detested. I went from wearing men's clothing only when I was at home to nearly all the time."

"Ironically, even with binding my breasts so they wouldn't be so prominent, the best I could was to look like a well developed twelve year old girl wearing her father's clothing. After all, how many five foot two inch men have you seen lately? Or any with a figure like mine? They don't make men's clothing that will conceal a body like this! I understandably attracted far more attention than I wanted, much to Karen's amusement."

Frank tried to imagine what Heather would look dressed like a twelve year old boy. Pretty sexy, he decided.

"You know, its funny. For the first six months, when I couldn't get enough of being a woman, Karen and I lived in the Mall, going from store to store just trying on clothing. Shoes especially. I adored heels, the higher the better. I still do, although now, I buy for comfort as well as looks. We had to exercise considerable restrain when it came to actually buying anything, however. Otherwise, I would have ended up with more shoes than what's her name, the wife of that Filipino dictator?"

"Uh, Marcos?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, when the mood modifier wore off, the full impact began to hit me. As I said, everything about my woman's body was totally alien to my reemerging male senses. Even my love life began to suffer. Although, Karen's pregnancy, you know I'd impregnated her the night before I became a female? Her pregnancy may have had a lot to do with that part of it."

"Your love life? You were sleeping with men?" Frank asked startled.

Heather laughed, "Hardly! The thought of making love to a man, and possibly becoming pregnant in the process, scared the hell out of me. Remember, despite of having a woman's body, I lacked the intense 'conditioning' most girls receive almost from birth to get pregnant and have a baby. The mood modifier wasn't strong enough to change that, thank God!"

Heather looked silently out into the night for a second. "If my childhood had been a little happier, I might have though. Although I had the looks and body to attract men by the score, I was still more interested in women in general and Karen in particular. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself in the gym showers after my aerobics classes." Heather chuckled, sounding oddly mannish, "Of course, Karen wasn't subject to any restraints on my part in that area."

"But how did you and Karen...?"

Heather laughed at Frank's naive question. "Really Frank, how do you think we did it? Let's just say that women who are into 'that sort of thing' as you said this afternoon, make far better lovers than any man on earth. Or at least I think so, I haven't tried the other side yet."

"By the time Karen was entering into her ninth month, it became obvious to us both that it was not going to work. I stayed until the baby was six months old then left. Oh, I didn't leave Karen and the kids flat. I couldn't, Karen owned the house and my entire estate out right. I was the one that had drowned, remember?"

"When your father bought out my share of the company, he was very generous, giving Karen about half again as much as my share was really worth. Karen gave me about a third of it when I left to start a new life for myself. She couldn't stand to see me leave without anything but the clothing on my back and my car. Being the practical woman she is, she kept the lion's share for herself and the kids."

"Karen gave you enough out of what my father paid her for you to be able to afford this?" Frank asked astonished. "Why, the rent on this place must be at least five hundred a night!"

"Close enough, they give me a discount for renting by the month. My share was substantial, but not that much." Heather stopped her slow pacing long enough to turn and face towards Frank. "Darling, take a good look at me. What do you see?"

Frank couldn't see her features in the dark room, but had an excellent view of her shapely silhouette. "Uh, I see a very beautiful and sexy woman," Frank said, not sure why she had asked the obvious.

Heather gave a long sigh. "I knew you would say that, nearly all you men react the same way."

"I'm sorry, but you asked," Frank said as though he was somehow defending the male gender.

"I know, Frank. Don't apologize for confirming what I can see for myself every time I take a shower or look in the mirror to put my makeup on. At least you didn't add 'dumb blonde' to your description. A lot of men do."

"Uh, to be honest, the thought did cross my mind," Frank admitted, embarrassed.

"Well, at least you're typically male in that respect," Heather laughed. "But think about it, Frank. Who owns most of the assets or really controls the money in the world today?"

Frank opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head.

"Women do. Either through inheritance, such as Karen's insurance settlement, or through default. In most households, the wife controls the household expenditures."

"Yeah, so?"

"Frank darling, think about it. I'm an attractive woman with the mind and instincts of a very successful businessman by the name of John Robbins. I know how men think, probably better than any other woman alive, because I've had first hand knowledge of being one. I know exactly what buttons to push to make men respond to my needs in exactly the way I want. I also know how to handle money, large amounts of money, so that it will make more money."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say," Frank said uneasily.

"Simply stated, I used my looks and body to make money, an awful lot of money." Heather laughed ironically, "Probably far more than I could have as John Robbins."

"Are you telling me that you worked as a prostitute?" Frank exclaimed, shocked.

"Hardly," Heather said dryly, "I've managed to remain a virgin since this happened and you can't do that if you're a prostitute. Besides, if I had chosen that lifestyle, I would have been a call girl, commanding far more respect and pay, rather than an ordinary street walker. No, Frank, I didn't sell my body, I just took advantage of the fact that most men do not take good looking women, especially blondes, seriously."

"What did you do?"

Heather hesitated a few seconds before answering. "I don't think that I'll tell you what I did. I may need to -- do it again someday. I will tell you what I did not do, however. I did not do anything that was illegal, or immoral. I just took advantage of who I had been, and what I had become. And, although he doesn't really know the reason, both your father and I have become very rich because of it."

Startled by the revelation that his father had been Heather's unwitting partner, Frank took a second or two to form his question. "My Father? Does he know about you, that you used to be John Robbins?"

"No. I didn't think that it would be a wise thing to tell him. As far as he's concerned, I'm just Heather Johnson, an attractive and uncommonly smart business woman. One who makes him a lot of money." Heather laughed, "Meeting your father as Heather was the hardest, or rather the second hardest thing I've ever done. I was sick for two days after our first meeting. Now, it's no big deal."

"I can imagine -- sorry, I shouldn't use that term. That first meeting must have been something else," Frank mused, thinking how his father would react if he had known the truth about Heather. "You said that was the second hardest thing you had done, what was the first?"

"My, but aren't we the nosy one?" Heather laughed, making the mild insult a joke. "Learning how to use my femininity was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You see when the mood modifier wore completely off, my mental state became diametrically opposed to my body. While I still loved and desired women, I was built to attract men. The thought of loving or being made love to by a man was abhorrent to me. Oh, I didn't avoid contact with men altogether, quite the opposite, I could shake hands with them, dance cheek to cheek with them, even allowed a few, a very few, to paw my breasts when it was necessary. But beyond that, no," Heather shuddered, "I once slugged a guy, because he forced me in a corner and tried to kiss me."

"Around women, a strange thing began to happen. I loved being around them, and the more I was, the more I became feminine. I slowly began to like being a female again. Perhaps it's the female hormones flowing through my body that has made me really appreciate what I had gained by being a woman."

"You feel better about yourself?" Frank asked.

"Yes, darling," Heather whispered, "I have come to term with my sex and sexuality. The only thing left now is to become a more complete woman, maybe settle down, have a baby and raise a family. I can certainly afford to have one now. Speaking of now, I think I've waited long enough to try out this body of mine in the way it was designed. Will you do me the honors, Frank?"

Frank wanted to, very much. From the very moment he had first seen Heather, he had wanted her.

Heather pulled her top off over her head. She reached out and pulled a very willing Frank from his seated position on the couch. A heartbeat later she was in his arms and struggling to untie the cloth belt of his robe. Frank would have helped her, but his hands were busy on her magnificat breasts. By the time she had opened his robe he was ready, more than ready.

"One moment darling, while remove the last obstacle, my pants," Heather whispered to Frank. Frank continued to rain kisses on her neck and face, while he shrugged out of his robe. In one swift motion, Heather slipped her silk pants and string bikini panties off and stood gloriously naked in front of the man she had decided would be her first lover.

"You're beautiful," Frank whispered slowly inspecting every inch of Heather standing before him. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Heather laid her head against his bare chest and began to kiss his nipples. Frank moved toward the couch.

"No, wait. I don't want to do it here, take me to the bedroom, the bed is far more comfortable, and larger," Heather said giggling with anticipation. "And Frank?"

"Yes darling?" Frank said as he turned and walked toward the bedroom.

"Please be gentle with me. I'm still a virgin, you know."

"I will darling, I will."

-0-0-0-

Frank looked cautiously at the still form sleeping soundly beside him. Heather was exhausted so, for that matter, was he, who wouldn't have been. She may have been a virgin but man, once she'd lost her maidenhead she became a regular mink! Frank had never before been so thoroughly used, and used up.

Frank was tired, but he had something very important to do before he could finally go to sleep.

Slowly easing himself out of the bed, he paused for a second to turn and look at Heather. He froze as she moaned softly in her sleep and rolled over.

Satisfied that she was sound asleep, Frank walked over to the suite's huge walk in closet, silently opened the door and stepped inside. Closing the door behind him, Frank took the chance of turning on the light.

He spent the next twenty minutes carefully going through the built in dresser drawers, then through the clothing hanging on hangers. Every garment he looked at had the same two things in common, they were very expensive and all very small. Finally, he picked up a pair of shoes from the dozens that were scattered carelessly on the floor. All but a few pair were high heels, some as high as four and a half inches, but most were about three inch in height.

She was right, Frank mused to himself, she did have a thing about shoes. He carefully inspected the shoe and another one, of a different style. Satisfied, he carefully replaced the shoes and took one last look around. It would take an exceptionally observant to tell that the closet had been thoroughly searched.

Smiling to himself, Frank turned out the light and quietly opened the door to the bedroom. He stepped through and closed the door, glancing at the bed he had left just moments before. Heather was laying face up, still sound asleep, although she had kicked the covers off of her naked body.

He nothing to conceal, because he had taken nothing, merely looked at most of Heather's belongings. He couldn't have hidden anything if he had, he was as naked as the soft, sensuous woman sleeping peacefully on top of the sheets.

Frank stood admiring her form. She's so tiny, he thought to himself. So tiny and perfect, all woman and all his -- if he wanted her, and right this moment he did, but was too worn out to do anything about it. Ah, well, he sighed, tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

-0-0-0-

"Do you have to go?" Heather asked late the following morning.

Frank nodded, pulling on his now dry swimming suit. "I'm afraid so, honey. I was supposed to be in Boston yesterday. If I don't make it there tonight for sure, Father will kill me."

Heather laughed lightly, "Come on now, Frank. Your father isn't that bad, after all he was my partner and I should know."

Frank paused just long enough to shake his head. "You may have been his partner, but I am his son. You don't know him like I do. He's not a nice man, Heather. Really he's not."

"Well, everything will work out," Heather said unsure if it would. "Are you going to tell him about us?"

"Of course, just as soon as I get back. I couldn't keep you a secret from him anyway."

"No I suppose not," Heather smiled. "Can I take you to the airport?"

Frank glanced at the clock sitting on the night stand. "How about dinner instead? My flight doesn't leave until about six, and I have some things I have to do, besides putting on some more appropriate clothing, that is. I don't think the airlines would let me fly wearing just a bathing suit."

Heather inspected Frank's nearly naked body. "You said your flight doesn't leave until six?" Frank nodded. "It's only ten now, so you have plenty of time," Heather lowered her eyes and looked coyly at Frank through her long lush eyelashes. "Why don't you fly me for a while instead?"

Frank laughed and pulled down his bathing suit.

-0-0-0-

Frank paid off the taxi driver and waited for him to drive away before turning to look at the beach house. It was just as Heather described it. Miles from anywhere. The perfect place to get away from it all.

Frank picked up two heavy suitcases and a small overnight bag and began to walk the short distance from the gravel turnaround to the porch.

Frank opened the house and carried his suitcases to the second floor bedroom. Glancing longingly at the larger of the two, he sighed as he pulled his "power tie" from around his neck and removed his suit coat. There would be time enough to unpack later, after he'd explored the house a little and gotten something to eat, although not necessary in that order.

As promised, the house had been stocked with enough staples to last him a week, maybe a little longer. If he decided to stick around that long. Frank fixed himself a small sandwich and began to wander through the house as he ate it.

He found the Dark Crystal the second day. Careful not to touch it with his hands, Frank scooped it up in a paper plate and carried it to the kitchen. He sat staring at the unremarkable appearing Crystal for hours before he decided that he had waited long enough.

Returning to the bedroom, Frank opened the smaller of his two still unopened suitcases. Glancing briefly at the contents, he removed a cellular telephone, a gift from his father when he'd joined the firm, then closed the suitcase again.

"Won't dear old Dad be surprised when he returns from his vacation and discovers I've taken my inheritance a little early?" Frank laughed to himself.

It was amazing how small a package ten million dollars in bearer bonds made, he thought, even the hundred thousand in cash didn't take up that much room in the small suitcase.

He opened the larger suitcase and gently touched the pair of panties laying on top. He didn't bother to remove anything, it would have been a waste of time, for the moment. None of the women's clothing in the suitcase would fit, at least not yet. But soon, so very soon.

He would be giving up so much, not the least of which was the woman that made all this possible.

Poor Heather, he thought, I hope she finds the man she wants and needs. He'd actually fallen in love with the beautiful woman by the time she had confessed her history. He had almost left her a few weeks after he had met her, but had decided to stay for a while longer.

Her story hadn't surprised him, he'd known that Heather had been John Robbins almost from the first. Fingerprints, even those taken from an empty wine glass, do not lie. In the end, he had stayed to find out one thing, and one thing only. Was she a real woman, or an incredible product of some doctor's expertise?

He knew the answer now, and it both thrilled and scared him to death.

He almost regretted using her as he had, but he had seen no other way to extract the information he wanted -- needed to be able to escape his overbearing and domineering father. Soon, so very soon, he would disappear so thoroughly that his father would never find him. Never!

"I'm really sorry, Heather," he said softly to himself. He thought about how incredibly beautiful she had looked standing in the departure area window waiting for his plane to leave only a few hours before.

True to her promise, Heather had picked him up in her Rolls convertible to take him to the airport. Since Frank had made his reservations rather hastily that afternoon after he had left Heather's hotel suite, they had to make a stop at the travel agent's office to pick up his tickets. He'd asked if she wanted to go in with him, but she declined, saying that she didn't want to leave the Rolls and his suitcases, unattended on a public street.

On the drive to the airport, Heather seemed a little more cheerful than she had before they'd stopped at the travel agent. Heather had maintained a cheerful, almost non-stop, monolog about the good times they would have together. He'd almost confessed what he was going to do, but had held back, feeling guiltier by the second as he listened to the rather lurid descriptions of what she would do to him in bed when he returned from his "business" trip.

Frank glanced out of the bedroom's big picture window overlooking the ocean. It would be dark soon, he had better get to it if he wanted increase his lead. Not that his father would ever be able to find him anyway.

Taking a moment to remove a nightgown and robe that had been under the pair of panties in his suitcase Frank laid them out on the bed. Satisfied that all was ready. he picked up the cellular telephone and walked back down to the kitchen.

Frank sat at the kitchen table to dial his father's home telephone number. On the third ring, the answering machine picked up. Frank waited until his father's recorded voice ended then began speaking.

"Dad, this is Frank. I've waited years to tell you this, you bastard..." Frank talked for nearly twenty minutes carefully repeating a speech he had rehearsed a thousand times before. When he was done, he felt better than he had in years.

He turned off the telephone and threw it against the wall. Another symbol of Dear Old Dad gone for ever, Frank thought with a smile as the instrument shattered.

Time for one last bridge to burn, Frank thought, reaching for the Dark Crystal.

He held the crystal tightly gripped in his hand for nearly ten minutes, just to make sure. Disappointed that he hadn't felt anything out of the ordinary, Frank rose and walked back to the living room where he had discovered the Dark Crystal wedged between the cushions of the couch. Carefully putting it back exactly where he had found it, he yawned and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

It had been a long day.

The next day, he would unpack his suitcase and try out his new wardrobe. He would be pleasantly surprised to discover that everything fit perfectly.

Everything, including Heather's parting gift to him he'd found in the bottom of his suitcase. It had obviously put there when he'd picked up his tickets. Stunned by the unexpected discovery, Frank opened the small envelope that had been attached to the big red ribbon and bow wrapped around the gift

"Dear Frank," the message began, "I know that you'll get good use out of this. Having been there, I can promise you that the rest of your life will be more exciting than you ever imagine, (there's that word again). Enjoy it to the fullest. Take care of yourself and remember, that's something of a time bomb nestled between your shapely legs, be careful how you use it. There are certain times during the month, like the last couple of days in my case, that its use is, well, fulfilling in more ways than one. Good luck and again take care. Oh, and if you should happen think about it, look me up in about six or seven months, I'll be the one with the stomach that sticks way out to here!"

The small card had been signed by Heather.

The brand new, embarrassingly large vibrator had her loving gift to the best lay she'd ever had or would ever need again. In a few months Heather would finally find the beginnings of the family she so desired. It would begin from within herself.

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And so ends the story of Heather, and the story of Frank, now known as Connie Sue begins.

Watch this and other fine BBS for more stories involving the Dark Crystal