The Adventures Of Samantha-alt Ending free porn video

Earlier this summer, Nostrumo reposted a story that has intrigued me for years - The Adventures of Samantha. In all that time, neither he nor I could find the ending to that story. Anyway, in posting the tale, he issued a challenge to come up with an ending. Just about the time I was finishing up my little sequel, Nostrumo posts the discovered ending. Well, that left me in a bit of a bind. First, I had about fifty pages of text just about ready to post, but the justification, ie, that the original author had left the story unfinished, was gone. Secondly, I liked my story. It is not a bad little tale, but there was no way to modify it so it could stand independently of the original story. The original, thought-to-be- unfinished story was over 400 Kb and 50 chapters. After some thinking, and some advice from my friends with whom I had shared the piece, I have decided to post my story with the disclaimer that it is *not* the original author's work. Nor, since I could not find the original author, do I have permission (as I did from Mike Allegreto and CaitlinB when I did A Change of Direction) to play with the story. If such things offend you, then please, don't read the story. And please, don't send me flames or hate mail. I will trash it, and it won't do any good anyway. If you are intrigued enough to read the story, I will post it in six parts. The story begins at the end of what was the ninth part of the early summer posting, and at the end of Chapter 50 of the more recent posting that included the original ending. Sincerely Tigger The Continuing Adventures of Samantha: An Alternative Sequel Ending to the Adventures of Samantha By Tigger copyright 1997 Chapter 1: A Day in the Sun Sam tried to roll over in bed, and awoke when he could not. Disoriented, he was at a loss to remember where he was. It was not home, and it was not Susan's guestroom. A muscular arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer into the solid warm body spooned around his back. *That* ` brought it all back to him. He was in the beach front hotel room Tom had rented for them following the Country Club dance. Sam permitted himself the still odd and new pleasure of savoring the warm comfort of Tom's sleeping embrace. *Then* she felt his body's response to her slight squirming. Tom grew erect, his penis thick and hard against his buttocks. Then, his large hands slipped up Sam's torso to fondle him sleepily. "Mmmmmmm." he whispered against Sam's ear, "What a lovely way to wake up." Tom's hands, tongue and lips began working their seemingly irresistible magic on Sam's senses, and his last rational thought was a question. "How much longer will I be able to think of myself in the masculine tense?" ~----------~ Awareness returned slowly as some huge brute pulled him reluctantly out of his warm bed. "Go 'way!" he muttered, batting away the hands trying to pull away his covers. "Still tired." The amused male chuckle that answered him made try to bury his head under the covers. That escape path, however, suddenly disappeared when Sam lost the tug of war with the covers. "If you had slept the night through like a good little girl instead of teasing me into making love to you all those times, you might have gotten some rest." Tom chided gently. "Now, we are burning sunlight. Come on, sweetheart. I have this irresistable urge to see what you look like in a bikini." Then his voice dropped into that deep register that did funny things to Sam's insides. "And I want to see what you look like with a bikini tan line across that gorgeous butt of yours." He gave her a sharp, playful slap on her bare bottom and shooed her off to the bathroom. Sam went, muttering imprecations and dire threats under her breath. She went through her morning toilette quickly and competently. Just before she left the bathroom, she took her contraceptive. As she entered the bedroom again, she felt the slight feeling of dizziness that had been bothering her in the mornings of late. Sam's worst fear was that it was morning sickness, but it had only been a few days. She'd hoped it would go away, but it had been hanging around now, and she felt a little worse today than before. She'd have to ask Susan or Gloria about it. It was then she'd realized. She, no dammit, *he* had been thinking of himself in the feminine since he'd been pulled from his bed. Steeling himself against such weakness, he went back to the suitcase Susan had packed for him and pulled out the package that held his new bathing suit. He tore open the wrapping paper with a satisfying "rrrrriiiipppp", only to set down its contents in dismay. He should have known, he almost smiled ruefully as he held it up before his amazed eyes. He really should have known. The suit was exactly what he would have liked seeing women in before Sam Gordan had become Samantha. The bottom was a thong - a very tiny thong - and the top - well, Sam just hoped that there was enough material on each of the "cups" to cover an entire nipple. He was not sure there was. Was the thing even legal? Just what he needed - the opportunity to get arrested for indecent exposure on a public beach. There was enough cloth to cover what needed to be kept covered, but it had been close. She checked for one of those shirt things women wear to the beach over their suits - what did they call it? A cover up? Of course, there wasn't one. Only a bottle of the strongest sunblock available on the market. Fuming at Susan's perfidy, and he had no doubt that Susan had intentionally done this to him, Sam looked for something he could use in place of a cover up. Susan may have been nice to him last night, but she was the one who kept pushing things and him the most. She wanted him to be exposed and embarrassed on the beach. Another of her little object lessons. Finally, he saw Tom's dress white shirt hanging on a chair from last night. With the sleeves rolled up and the gold studs taken out, the white dress shirt made a very attractive cover up, contrasting nicely with the stark black of Sam's bikini. Tom's eyes went wide when he saw her enter the living room of the hotel suite. "You look great!" he said, before his forehead wrinkled. "Don't I recognize that shirt?" Sam only smiled and sat down to have her breakfast of fruit and toast. "It is mine, isn't it?" Sam kept her peace, and sipped her coffee. Tom gave her a confused look. "You sure you used to be a guy? Because, lady, you have that flirty- silence treatment down cold." Sam stopped in mid-sip, hot coffee filling and burning his mouth as he left the cup tipped as he gawked at Tom. Seeing the hurt in Sam's eyes, Tom was on him in an instant. Taking the cup from his hand and setting it aside, he pulled Sam into his lap and held her. "Sorry, luv. That was a rotten thing to say after what you must have had to go through to reach such a monumental decision. It's just that, well, a stunt like that is just what that bunch would pull. If they thought they had found *the* girl for me, they'd find someway to really intrigue me so I would get interested. And I did get intrigued. . ." and he lifted her chin up so she could see him waggle his eyebrows in a parody of silent movie villains, "And I am most *definitely* very, very interested." ~---------~ The pair made their way to the beach and enjoyed putting the sunblock on each other. Then, Sam decided to catch up on the rest he'd missed the night before, and maybe build up some reserves for the coming night while he was at it. Sam did not think Tom would let them rest then, either. The sun was warm on her flesh, and the air was sweet with the freshening morning sea breeze. Sam should have slept, but could not - he simply had too many things preying on his mind. The first was the revelation that, although the women had told Tom what had been done to Sam, he did not understand that it had been involuntary. Probably because Tom knew and loved each of the conspirators, he could not see them in the light of people who would do this to another person. In his mind, they were healers, good people who did good things, so if they had done this to Sam, then it must have been something good for Sam. Something that Sam had wanted. Was that good opinion something Sam could use as a lever, or better yet, as a weapon against the women? He did not know, but she would remember it and look for an opening. And that was the second thing - he had to stop this thinking of himself as a "she" and a "her". He *had* to remember he was a *guy* at all times. Otherwise, when he was a guy again, he'd have to go through a wholesale 'reprogramming' of himself back into a male self image. That could be troublesome and embarrassing. Imagine coming out with some inane comment about "us girls" in the men's sauna at the gym. Only that presupposed that he was ever going to be a guy again. Could he trust the women to keep their word? If he was a "good girl" and did not get the final fixer treatment, would they, after he had been suitably humiliated and trained, really give him back his life again? If only they did not hold that damned final treatment over him like a sentence of death. Now *that* was another interesting as well as very scary thought. The only tools the women really had to ensure his complicity in this travesty were the carrot of an antidote coupled with their stick - the threat of making the change irreversible. The question Sam was afraid to ask was "Is it really reversible, after all?" What had Gloria called that stuff she used on him? Testosterocide ? Something that killed off all his male hormones, she said. And then there was that other thing. A hormone that neutered the subject so that the subject's genetic code could be rewritten. "Killing" sounded pretty damned final to Sam. Suppose that meant that the change was already permanent and that they were just jerking him along to keep him acting like a "good little girl" so they could continue humiliating him for their amusement? Well, if that *was* the case then he'd just have to find a way to hurt them, like they had hurt him. The question really was how would he do that? What could he possibly take from them that came close to matching what they had stolen from him? Sam thought about that some more and decided that it was time he stopped merely reacting after the fact and started thinking, started planning. As long as he did not think, they had the upper hand because all he could do was respond to their insidious little games. Maybe he'd have to do something to them, even if they were telling the truth and ultimately changed him back. An uncomfortable tightness in Sam's lower belly signaled that he needed to find the lady's room. At least there was one benefit of his current gender identity crisis. His first instinct was to use the women's room. He did not want to think of what might happen if he wandered into the men's room by mistake in Susan's bikini. Tom roused as Sam got to his feet. "Where ya goin', luv?" He mumbled sleepily. Sam had not been the only one to lose sleep last night. Sam told him. "How about getting us something to drink? Just show the guy at the stand our room key." He flipped the key up to Sam. Nature's call took precedence, however, and Sam hustled off to the beachfront restroom facilities. In his rush, he did not notice that he had attracted an interested audience with his movement. After relieving himself and rearranging his suit to cover as much as possible, Sam exited the restroom and stopped short. A group of young men, boys actually, had formed a semi-circle around the ladies room door. One stepped forward and closed the distance between them. He gave her a very slow, very obvious once over before looking her in the face and grinning lasciviously. "Hey, woman. You look hot. How about you come over and play with us for awhile. We're gonna play volleyball and . . .other things." His compatriots laughed at his unsubtle innuendo. Sam could remember doing much the same thing on occasion in his youth. It felt very different, very uncomfortable on the other side of the semicircle. He decided to brazen it out. "No, thank you. I have to get back to my boyfriend." and he started to move away from the boy in front of her. Sam was not quick enough because the leader lashed out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Now that is not friendly, lady. We were just being friendly. Weren't we, guys?" A laughing affirmative answered his query. Buoyed by the support, he pulled Sam closer. "Why don't you be friendly? Let's start with a little kiss to make up for your an-ti-so- cial be-ha-vior." He said the words slowly, sounding out each syllable in carefully distinct tones that made Sam's guts turn to ice from fear. Instinct took over as the leader of the boys began to try and force Sam's face to his. With skills learned in his rough and tumble boyhood, Sam broke the boy's hold on his arms, and stomped down hard with his heel on the boy's bare toes. He took off, trying to run towards Tom and safety, screaming for "Tom! HELP ME! *PLEASE!*" An unfortunate combination of factors acted to stymy his escape. The soft sand shifted underfoot on his first driving step, making his feet slide out from under him. He could have handled that, except for the problem that it was *Samuel* Gordan's brain that was sending the balance recovery commands to *Samantha* Gordan's body. And *those* commands were completely wrong for Samantha's markedly different body mass and mass distribution. Stated politely, Samantha carried a larger proportion of her lighter weight in her hips and breasts than Sam did. His male reflex reactions, which would have easily righted *Sam's* male body, completely overbalanced *her* body. Sam fell headlong into the side of the ladies' room wall, cracking his temple hard against the concrete foundation. The last thing he heard before the blackness took him, was Tom's furious bellow of rage. Chapter 2: Interludes and Confrontations. It was the voices that woke Sam. Soft, yet intense voices that he finally recognized. "And I say *no*." came a very stern voice. Susan, he thought, in her 'I am right and I am in charge mode.' She did it so very well as he had reason to know. "I don't care how it happened. It is why we did it, so she would experience these nasty little realities from the other side of the skirt. I'm sorry that she got hurt, but it is only a mild concussion." "Suppose it had been worse, Susan. Suppose she had fractured her skull or died. Suppose she had been raped." Gwen's voice, and she was very agitated. "Don't you think it is time to end this?" "No, I do not. She wasn't raped and she isn't hurt that badly." Her voice changed in pitch and volume. "This is why I insisted we not give Gwen the reversal treatment, Gloria. She is too softhearted for what has to be done." "Maybe I am, too, Susan. Only extreme good fortune prevented this from turning into a tragedy. One more misadventure like this one, Susan, and I will administer the treatment, myself." "Not if I administer the fixer first, Gloria." Susan's tones were aggressive and very angry. Sam inferred that the argument had been going on for quite awhile if all three of them were that worked up. "Do it for that reason, Susan, and I will blow the whistle on us. I will put this whole thing before the press and the Ethics Panels of both the AMA and your American Bar Association so quickly your head will spin." "You wouldn't." Susan's voice had dropped to a furious whisper. "Oh, but I would. We did this for a reason, Susan, and I hope, a good reason. Retribution was certainly a part of it, but *only* a part of it. I, for one, held out some hope that we might make a reasonably nice human being out of him before we were through. What you are talking about now is a nasty, irrational and hate-filled vengeance that I want no part of on my conscience, and neither do you if you will just think about it." Darkness started welling back up to claim Sam again as she heard Susan ask, "So what do we do, then?" He never heard the answer. ~-----------~ Gwen was alone in the room when he woke up again. He moaned as the world spun and his head pounded. She came over and put her cool hand on his forehead. "Take it easy, Samantha. I am here for you. How do you feel?" "My head," Sam whimpered, "It feels like someone is pounding on me from the inside out and everything is spinning." Gwen gave her a couple of pills and a glass of what turned out to be milk. "Take these. They are just Motrin but they will help with your headache. You are going to have to take it easy for a few days." She smiled down at Sam. "Just think, all that pampering." The spinning subsided, more from having her voice to concentrate on than from the medication. Gwen went on to tell Sam that Tom had brought her (Gwen's words) back to Susan's place as soon as he had dispatched the boys. He had worried that a doctor who did not know about Samantha's change of gender might do something to hurt her in his ignorance. Susan had called Gloria and Gwen to come and check him over. "But all you have is a mild concussion. You will be fine in a few days." Sam thought about that. "Wouldn't have happened if I did not trip over my feet so often." He said with his eyes closed against the light. An idea occurred to him. "Gwen? Could I go to a gym or something? If I have to live this way, I need to be able to move without falling on my face. I need to learn some coordination." "We'll see, dear. Now rest. One of us will be here when you wake up." The medicine had eased his pain enough to let Sam relax again. Sleep took him, once again. Chapter 3: A Taste of Independence They kept him in bed for two more days, and restricted him to Susan's apartment for another five. As Gwen had promised, one of the women was always with him, although whether that was for his health or to ensure he did not bolt, Sam was not sure. The silver lining in all of this was that the women agreed to let him join a health club (one for women only, of course, called Spa-Lady, but he had expected that), *and* Susan gave him his checkbook to pay the fees (but not before writing down the number of the check so she'd know how many checks Sam had used). After much discussion, they even decided to let him go there on his own. As Jane pointed out, "She only has a few thousand dollars to her name, and no real identity. Her only hope and safety is to come back here. It is time for our little girl to start acting like a grownup, independent woman. At least, part of the time, anyway." She ended with a smirk. Sam had set out for the health club wearing the soft knit dress and low heeled shoes that Susan had laid out for him. The clinging dress was longer than many of the others that Susan forced on him, so he did not have to worry about flashing anyone, but it did . . . show things. Sam was uncomfortably aware of the almost constant male scrutiny as he walked to the nearby club. On his way, he chanced to pass an electronics store where a display in the window caught his eye. He stood there for a very long time, considering his options before turning back towards his destination. ~----------~ It could not have been much better, Sam thought as he laid in his bed that night. The club did not take personal checks, so he'd needed to go to the bank to get cash. Smiling, he thought again about the miniature "spy" tape recorder hidden in his dresser. By withdrawing more money than he needed for his club fees, Sam had been able to pay cash for it and a box of tapes to go with it. The times, they are a'changin', he thought, smiling up into the darkness. Now, he had a weapon of his own. It wasn't much of a weapon, at least not yet, but it was more than he'd had since the moment he'd walked into that damned bar or Sharon's. Time would tell what he could do with it. ~---------~ Sam woke up the next morning in time to share a light breakfast with Susan. After breakfast, Sam cleaned up the kitchen while Susan got ready for work. After the obligatory kiss, Susan told Sam to "Be a good girl and work hard at your exercise class. Men don't like girls with sloppy butts and sagging breasts, you know." Sam had given the expected grimace and Susan had breezed out the door grinning at her successful barb. She might not have been so smug had she seen the thoughtful look on Sam's face as he made his way back to his room. In truth, Sam had not considered that aspect of this enterprise before that moment, but after due consideration he had to admit, to himself in any case, one fact. Tom had become very important to him in a very short time. For how ever long this. . . .experience as a woman lasted, Samantha Gorden wanted Tom Benton in her life. Sam would make very sure that she, dammit, he did not get "sloppy". What to wear proved to be something of a challenge. Used to throwing on shorts and a ratty sweatshirt for a workout at the gym, Sam was at a loss what he could wear for his first day at the club. He did not have any sweat suits or work out clothes. In the end, she raided Susan's dresser for an oversized t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. Fortunately, the running shorts had a drawstring. Susan was not quite as slender as Sam. He *thought* he had been in pretty good shape before the women had captured and transformed him. Fifteen minutes of the pure, sadistic hell that the daily exercise schedule had described as "Step Aerobics - Medium Impact" had him in oxygen debt; thirty minutes had his muscles screaming in agony. The class was scheduled for ninety minutes. Only will and determination got him through that last half hour, although the fact that the last fifteen minutes were dedicated to cooldown and stretching probably had a lot to do with it, too. It was during the stretching that Sam noticed something else that was not very pleasant. His breasts were *really, really* sore. After the class, he remained behind the departing women in the room where the class was held. First, because he did not really want to join a bunch of overheated, sweaty, *naked* women in the locker room in his current condition. He still *thought* like a male, especially when it came to thinking about the female form. The very last thing Sam wanted or needed was to offend anyone, even accidently, and thus get himself thrown out of the club on his first day. That might tend to really upset his pack of wardens. The second reason was that he wanted to stretch a little more and see if he could work out the pain in his chest. Nothing helped. He was really starting to worry that he had somehow damaged his new body when a female voice asked. "Pecs hurt, girlfriend?" Startled, Sam swivelled about to see the short, hard-bodied, blond instructor watching him from the classroom doorway. She had a towel slung over her skin tight leotard and held a sweating bottle of designer spring water in one of her hands. Confused, Sam asked, "I beg you pardon?" The woman sauntered over and crouched down beside Sam. She set her bottle down and pointed to the region above and about Sam's breasts. "I watched you closely, today. You were new to our little group and this is a pretty tough class for a beginner. You held up pretty well, though." Sam gave a derisive snort. "I thought I was going to die. Hell, I *wanted* to die." That brought a grin to the woman's gaunt face that made her look almost pretty. "But you kept going. It will get easier once you learn the steps. Anyway, the real reason I asked about your pecs is that you are stretching and I noticed. ." She stammered a bit, "I, ahhh, noticed that you weren't wearing a sports bra. You aren't huge, girl friend, but you are gifted enough that you should have extra support for a workout like this." Understanding, Sam flashed the woman a rueful smile. "Bounced about, did I?" At the smiling nod, Sam sighed. "Didn't even notice, probably because I was so busy trying to keep from tripping over my feet. That is why I am here, to get some coordination." The instructor stood up and offered a hand. Sam took it and was surprised at the woman's strength as he levered himself up. "C'mon." she said. "They have a good selection of sports bras in the shop here at the club. We'll get you rigged out, right and tight." They shared a laugh at her pun. "By the way, I am Leslie, but my friends call me Les." "Samantha, but I prefer Sam." "Okay, then Sam, get your purse and let's go get you fitted." Fortunately, Sam still had some money left over from the check he had cashed to get into the club. In no time, he was again nude as a woman measured him, in great detail, for his bra. He ended up buying four, along with a couple of workout leotards. Afterwards, he still had a little left over so he offered to buy Leslie a drink. Over the drinks, Sam's reasons for wanting to become more coordinated came up. Leslie was very understanding. "You are right about coming here, Sam, but you need more than coordination. You need some muscle, too, and you should learn some basic self defense. Tell you what, I will work with you on a basic strength program, and you can sign up for our self defense class. Matter of fact, there is one starting today. The instructor is a friend of mine named Janet and she is great." And so, Sam spent the rest of the day at the club, learning how to lift weights properly with Leslie, and then later, learning how to fall properly with Janet. Unfortunately, he was a fairly slow learner when it came to falling *properly*. Sam fell just fine - it was the proper part that eluded him. By the time he dragged himself back into Susan's apartment at four p.m., Sam was on intimate terms with just about every muscle in his body. He was also exhausted. Chapter 4: A Small Victory Unfortunately, Sam could not go to bed as tonight was a "girl's night out". Susan had already laid out his outfit for the evening and Sam was just too tired to argue with her about it. Wearily, he slipped on the slinky little nothing of a dress, the uncomfortably tall heels and did his face and hair. They took him to another strip club, but this one was different from the Booby Trap. This one was for women and featured male dancers. "Aw, Samantha is bored." Jane piped up when Sam's eyes drooped. "What the matter, dear? Aren't you close enough?" Jerked awake, Sam jumped in his seat, drawing amused laughter from her table mates. Sheepishly, he grinned. "Just tired, Jane. First day at the club today and I am beat." "Wore yourself out, did you?" Gloria teased. "Were those silly female exercise classes *that* hard for you?" Sam decided not to tell them that he had actually gone to three classes. Not yet, anyway, so he tried to be self effacing. "I, ah, never knew that those step things could be so tough. And, . . .well, I probably picked too advanced a class for a beginner. I thought medium impact meant *medium* everything." He looked down before continuing. "It wasn't, but some of the other women told me it would get easier with time." "Some of the *other* women?" Jane parroted gleefully. "Finally figuring out that you are one of those now, too, sweetcheeks?" Sam flushed brightly, and tried to stammer out a response, but none came out. Finally, they stopped laughing long enough to pump him further about his first day at the club. The women thoroughly enjoyed the verbal pictures he painted of himself as he had fought to keep up with the women in his class while not falling off the step. Susan chimed in. "Well, we're proud of you for sticking it out, Samantha. The old Sam would have been too busy gawking at all the *other* women" her emphasis on the word 'other' calling attention to his unconscious slip of the tongue, "bouncing about to get any benefit out of the lesson." Sam flushed at the unexpected praise, then recalled that he had spent his last dollars on the sports bra. "That reminds me. I need some more money. My teacher said I needed some sporting bras. She says that I . . I. ." His voice trailed off and he looked away from them. "Samantha." Susan's voice of command drew him back. "Your instructor said . . . *what*?!" "That I bounce." Sam answered in a very small voice. "Bounce?" spluttered Susan before she and all the other women again dissolved into laughter. Sam flushed bright red and wanted to sink under the table. Gentle Gwen came to her rescue, moving her chair closer to Sam and put an arm around him. The gesture, intended to comfort, inadvertently squeezed Sam's breasts, causing her to squeak in surprised pain. His chest had gotten much more tender in the past few hours. Gwen heard it and went immediately into "nurse" mode. "Are you hurting, Sam?" She asked, softly. Sam could only nod. "Gloria?" Gwen's voice was sharp. "We need you in the ladies room." In very short order, Gwen and Gloria had Sam in the handicapped stall of the ladies room, stripped to the waist. Their examination was thorough, but the two doctors were as careful as they could be. "I don't think it is anything to worry about, Gwen. She overdid and strained some muscles. She will definitely need those sports bras, however." Fatigue, pain and humiliation welled up inside Sam. It was just too much to bear. He snapped, too angry and too hurt to consider the possible consequences of his words. "Dammit, can't you talk *to* me and tell *me* what is wrong with *me*? I know you all just love it when I trip over some facet of this feminine body you gave me. I understand that you want to get your own back at me, but can't you at least give me a little human compassion?" Gloria stared at him in mute dismay while Gwen moved to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, furiously, before spinning to confront Gloria again. "Dammit, I have been afraid all day, even after the instructor told me what she thought was wrong. I don't know half enough about this body you women had stuck me in, and every time I turn around, something new is cropping up. I thought I had hurt it worse than she said it was, or that she was wrong about the cause because it hurt so much and kept getting worse. And damn you, I was afraid to ask for help." Tears were rolling down his cheeks, now, making a mess of thirty minutes of hard work to get his look just right. Gloria took his chin in her strong hands and looked him in the eyes. "I am sorry, Sam. You don't have to be afraid to ask for help, particularly when you hurt. I am still a physician as are both Lois and Gwen. We have taken an oath to help those who are in need of our help. Now, listen to me. You have strained some chest muscles by not having your breasts properly supported. Your teacher was right. Take some aspirin and take it easy tomorrow. Then, once you have your sport bras, you can work out, but take it slowly. Find a class more suited to your physical condition and your skill level. Okay?" Sam nodded jerkily. Gwen moistened some tissues and cleaned up Sam's face before doing a quick fix on his cosmetics. Then, she hugged Sam and helped him out of the stall. As they exited the ladies room, they found Susan and Jane were waiting for them. "Hurry up, Sam." Jane chirped, reaching out to take hold of his hand. "Susan just bought you a lap dance with that guy in the biker suit." Her grin widened at Sam's look of resigned despair. "All that leather - you will just *love* it, sweetie." Defeated, Sam began to let Jane pull him along when Gloria's voice rang out. "No." The looks on Jane's and Susan's faces would have been comical if Sam had been in any mental state capable of enjoying such things. "But, that is why we came here tonight, Gloria. So Sammie could see *real* masculinity on the hoof, up close and personal." "Perhaps it was." Gloria agreed. "But that was before I knew about Samantha's condition." "Gloria." Susan's voice was disgusted. "So she overdid it today at the gym. All she has to do is sit there and smile at the guy's jockstrap, maybe get a good whiff of musk. It is not like we are going to make *her* get up there and dance." Susan paused, remembering another night at another strip club. "Not tonight, anyway." Gloria moved to stand between Sam and Susan, and faced her friend. "I am the doctor in charge of this project, Susan, and I have made a medical judgement that Samantha is going home immediately. Now, you can stay here, and I will take her home with me, but she needs rest and she needs it now." Susan was momentarily stunned by Gloria's defense of Sam. For several long moments, the two women stood toe-to-toe, eye-to- eye, saying nothing. Finally, Susan backed down. "Oh, all right. Come on, Jane, let's go home." Sam was led straight to his room, given some aspirin by Gwen and put to bed when they arrived at Susan's apartment. Her eyes were closing when she thought she heard loud voices outside her door. Briefly, she wondered what the women were yelling about, but she was just too tired to try and listen. Chapter 5: New Experiences, New Skills, New Dreams Relations in Susan's apartment were strained for the remainder of the following week. Susan had very little to say to Sam, and she kept what she did say to the absolute minimum. After the day of bed rest prescribed by Gloria, Sam had, armed with the money provided by Gwen for the new bras, made her way back to the club for another day of exercise and self defense lessons. Les had guided him into a less advanced aerobics class so that Sam could learn the steps, but told her. "I expect to have you back in my class soon. You need that level of work to help you improve your fitness and your coordination." Sam had promised that he would. Within the week, he felt confident enough of himself to try Leslie's class again. He never went back to the beginner class again. The self defense class instructor, Janet, was actually a fourth degree black belt in Tai Kwan Do. Surprisingly, she told Sam that he had a great deal of promise, and began to work with him a little extra after class. The fluid movements of the dance-like kata, or shadow boxing, did a great deal for Sam's confidence and control of his new body. The weight training was also going well. Whatever else Sam could say about his new body, it strengthened very quickly. Les worried over how quickly he was progressing, but had to admit, he showed no undue strain in any of the exercises. Soon, Sam's body was beginning to glow with new health and vigor. The time at the club had become the best part of his life, and the club became a place of refuge for him. A place where, for a short while, he could again feel competent and forget what he had lost. A place he could enjoy what he had gained in its stead. A place where he could plan. ~------------~ Tom's hands slid teasingly up Sam's sleek thighs, while his talented mouth did amazingly beautiful things to her insides as he gently nursed at her breast. Lost in the dark passion of the moment, all Sam could do was dig her fingers into Tom's sweat-slick hair and try to pull his mouth up to her lips. Tom resisted her tugging and continued his assault, bringing skillful fingers to bear on the core of Samantha's womanhood. Stark sensation knotted in her guts, tightening every muscle in her body for an infinitely long second before she fell headlong into her climax. Someone screamed and Sam knew it was her. "Oh, God, Tom - God how I love you!" Shock, disbelief and finally terror gripped her as she suddenly realized what she had said. Sam came awake with a start and a cry. Disoriented, it took him a few moments to realize that he was actually alone, and a few more to calm himself. Sam let himself fall back into the bedcovers and tried to deal with what that dream had just revealed. Sam Gordan had never used the "l" word before in any of his relationships. At least, he had never used it before and meant it. "Love" had always really meant "lust" to good old Sam. It was a handy little tool that often helped him get an otherwise resistant woman into his bed. But the woman in his dream had just said the "l" word and she had meant it. More than meant it, she had meant it with a capital "L". The woman in his dream was in love with Tom Benton. And the woman in his dream had been herself. Sam could not even honestly correct the use of the feminine pronoun, because she had definitely been female. And she had been him. Grimly, Sam tried to analyze what the dream meant. Was he in love with Tom Benton? How the hell was he supposed to know? Sam the man had never actually been sure that the emotion really existed, so how was Sam the woman supposed to know? He tried to put the facts as he knew them together, tried to analyze what was really happening to him. Well, he certainly missed Tom when he wasn't around. That was new, too, because Sam Gordan had never missed *anyone* in his life. Sure, he had missed sex when there was not a woman in his life, but that was a helluva lot different than missing a woman. Maybe that was it. Tom was the only person he knew well enough and trusted enough to have sex with. Sam was missing the sex. That was surely a lot to miss, too. Sam had never known sex could be like this before. Making love with Tom made his brain shut down. Everything else in the world could cease to exist while Tom was inside his body and Sam would not know or care. That was it. It had to be. Only, it wasn't. Sam honestly liked Tom and liked being with him. Tom listened to him, and Sam liked the way Tom treated him when they were just out doing things together. *This* was really getting scary. No, it had to be *just* the sex. Sam knew from past experience that women, particularly inexperienced women, often confused sex with love. And he was damn-sure an inexperienced woman. He just wished he understood why the sex was so . . . so fantastic. If Sam had ever met a woman who could make him feel this way, he'd probably tried the faithfulness route, himself. Why was it so good now that he had been turned into a woman. That raised a very interesting question. Did the women do something to make him an easy lay? It was not that great a leap, considering that he was now a she because of them. Was that part of the plan? Maybe he was supposed to get pregnant so that he would not need the fixer treatment, and they could tell him it was his own fault. A knocking sounded from her bedroom door, followed by the metal on metal noise of a key turning in a lock. Susan popped her head in. "Ah, you are awake. Good. Rise and shine, Sam. Gloria wants you at the clinic this morning. She wants to check you over and make sure you boobs are okay." Sam acknowledged the order, wanting to complain that it was Saturday, but decided against it. He did not want another confrontation with Susan just now. She'd only threaten him with the needle again and he was not ready to buck her on that, yet. Besides, he wanted to talk to Gloria, anyway. "What shall I wear?" he asked. "Player's choice, Sam. I am not going to help at all. It is Saturday and if you look foolish, no one will be at Gloria's place to notice." Susan was evidently still ticked off that Gloria had interfered with her little game at the stripper club. Sam picked out a simple blouse, sweater and skirt set to which he added the low heeled pumps that Susan had paired with the outfit before. He gave quiet thanks for his powers of recall before starting his morning toilette and doing his hair and face. On a whim, he slipped the tiny recorder into the skirt's pocket before leaving his bedroom. Susan said nothing about his appearance when he arrived in the kitchen for breakfast. "You don't get anything except water, Sam. Gloria wants to take blood samples this morning and you can't have anything to eat or drink before she sticks you." Sam settled in the chair opposite Susan and smiled. "Well, that is one advantage of being locked in at night. I can't raid the refrigerator." What ever Susan had expected, that had not been it, and Sam felt a brief spurt of triumph as he saw the confusion in her eyes. "Get your purse and let's go." was all Susan said. Chapter 6: A Day on the Town, A New Piece of the Puzzle Gwen met them at the door to the clinic. Susan passed Sam off to her, then left again without entering, muttering that she had some overdue casework at her office. "Well, run along then, Susan. Gloria and I will take care of Samantha today. Call if you need her to stay with one of us." Sam did not miss the frown on Susan's face as she turned to leave. "Still grouchy, I see." Gwen said as she led Sam into the examining room. "She always was the most protective one among us, even in those early days back when we were in school. Always ready to join battle with the bad guys and to right wrongs. I think that is why she is the hardest on you. Oh well." she said as she handed Sam a hospital gown. "Go put this on, Sam, while I go get your douche and the blood sample vials." Sam stripped down to bare skin and put on the backless gown. As he hung up his clothes, he thought about what Gwen had said about Susan. He wasn't sure he agreed with her. Sam thought that Susan was enjoying it too much for it to be simple dragon slaying. Susan was, in Sam's somewhat biased estimation, a domineering bitch who thoroughly enjoyed every little torment and humiliation she inflicted on him. In Sam's mind, his "lessons to be learned" only provided Susan an excuse and an outlet for her bitchy meanness. Gwen returned then with the full rubber bag along with a tray festooned with vials, bottles and needles. After she weighed him, took his temperature and checked his blood pressure, she settled him on the examining table. Sam was pleasantly surprised when the cleansing douche was warm and not icy cold, as it had been his previous visit. The blood taking was over quickly, and then Gwen handed him a plastic cup and pointed him toward the restroom. Once inside, he had cause to reflect on yet another little task that was much easier to do as a guy. It had certainly used to be a whole lot simpler to aim and to hit the cup, he mused as he washed the pee off his fingers after finally managing to get some of it in the cup. Gloria was waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom. Gwen took the sample, put it on the tray and left to start the lab work. "Okay, Sam, up on the table. You know the drill by now." Gloria's orders were firm, but the tone seemed different than before - less snide. She set his feet into the stirrups and adjusted them for her examination. With quick, practiced movements, Gloria checked his insides again with the speculum, and made some notations on her record. Then she examined his breasts with careful thoroughness. "Any residual pain, Sam?" "No, Doctor." he replied. "The sports bra and learning how to do the exercises have helped. They almost feel normal, now." He went scarlet when he realized what he'd said. Gloria caught that and grinned down at him. "Well, it would, Sam. How long have you been like this?" she asked before answering. "Almost two months? I would say that it *is* almost normal for you by now." She released his feet from the stirrups and let him sit up. "Any questions?" she asked as she stripped off the latex gloves. Sam hesitated, then blushed. Gloria had become much less fearsome in the past few days, particularly since she had stood up for Sam in that confrontation with Susan and Jane. She saw him color and pulled up a stool. "Okay, Sam. There is something on your mind. What is it?" "I don't know if I want to ask, or even if you would tell me if I did." he muttered. Gloria sighed. "Look, Sam. There is not much more I can do to you, short of making the change permanent. And I am not going to do that today. If you have a question, ask it. Having said that I am not going to give you the fixer, the worst I can do is refuse to answer your question." Sam looked at her, and decided to go for it. "Did you . . . I mean, when you did this to me, did you make it so that I was. . ." he stammered and tried again. "I mean, is there some reason that I am . . ." Gloria watched him stumble over his tongue with a tolerant amusement. "Sam, spit it out!" she ordered. "Did-you-make-me-into-some-kind-of-nymphomaniac-as-part-of- this?" he said in a rush. "Did we what?!?" Gloria choked out in disbelief. "A nymphomaniac?" Miserable now, Sam could only close his eyes and nod. Tears were pricking at the back of his eyelids when he felt the examination table mattress compress beside him and a hand gently stroke down his cheek. "Sam?" Gloria's voice came from beside him now, and was very soft. Slowly, Sam turned to look at her. She tipped his chin up so that he was forced to look her directly in the eyes. "No, I did nothing that would affect your sexuality when I changed you. What you feel is what you feel. I had nothing to do with that. Now, tell me what is bothering you." The concern in her voice was too much and Sam broke apart. "It is Tom. I think of him all the time, even when we aren't together, and when we are together, I want to touch him - to have him touch me. Everything is just so . . . so intense, now, and I don't know how to deal with it. I have never felt anything like this before." Gloria was quiet for a long time before she responded. "By everything, I assume you mean sex?" Sam nodded. "Well, one explanation, Sam, is that you *have never* felt anything like that before. You were a hedonist, my girl, but what you felt during intercourse before we changed you was completely different than what you are feeling now. Completely different and new. A whole new set of nerve endings are involved, and if sexuality researchers are to be believed, a whole lot more nerve endings, too." Sam's eyes widened as he considered what she was saying. "Remember puberty?" Gloria continued. Sam gave a hesitant affirmative. "Your first few erections, or when you first masturbated? Pretty intense stuff, eh? Your brain had nothing to compare those sensations against, so they were pretty overwhelming. Same goes here. And you changed so quickly, you are getting the full power of it all very suddenly. My other subjects changed more slowly, and developed their sexuality more slowly. It was not as much of an immediate change to them." "So, I am just going through another sudden puberty?" A sly grin lit Gloria's face. "Well, that is *one* explanation. Another is that you might care very deeply for Tom, and that is making your love making all the more intense." The stunned dismay on Sam's face made Gloria chuckle. "It is possible, Sam. I have seen the way he looks at you, you lucky girl, and I have seen you look back. If you two aren't in love, you are damned close." "But, but . . . but he's a guy." Sam sputtered. "And you are a gal, Sam. Whether you want to be a guy or not, whether you still try and think of yourself as a guy or not, your body and its hormones are female. And Tom, m'dear, is very, very male." She moved back to her stool and picked up her notebook. "Still, it is something to keep an eye on for my research. For all your unwilling participation in my little project, Sam, you are adding a great deal to my knowledge base and general understanding of gender change effects." Distracted from his worries by that comment, Sam snorted. "And how, pray tell, are you going to publish anything about my case, since I am an involuntary participant?" "Oh, but you are a volunteer, Sam, at least as far as the legal records indicate. Susan, our legal eagle, and Sharon, with her ability to hack on-line databases, made sure of that. Legally, you appear as a one hundred percent voluntary- volunteer." she said lightly before her tone became stern. "And if you ever hope to change back, you will not give me any grief on that score, young lady. I have put a lot of effort into this, and I am not going to lose the publication opportunity you represent. Your consent to my use of this data is a precondition of my giving you the reversing treatment." "I understand, Gloria. If I don't cooperate, I am stuck like this forever." She nodded complacently. "That is about the size of it, Sam. You scratch my itch, and I won't automatically refuse to scratch yours." Then her demeanor changed, becoming crafty and almost conspiratorial. "But tell me, just between us girls, would that *really* be so very bad, Sam? Haven't we just been talking about how great parts of being female are? Would spending the rest of your life loving and being loved by a man like Tom Benton be such a horrible thing?" Shocked and dumbfounded that Gloria could even ask him such a thing, Sam wanted to rail at her, to scream out her that, of course, it would be horrible. But the words would not come. In the end, he shook his head. "Is that all, Gloria? Can I get dressed now?" he asked in a dull monotone voice. Disappointment creased Gloria's forehead at Sam's non- response, but she elected not to pursue it further, and nodded her permission. "Yes, get dressed and then come into my office. Gwen and I are going to take you to breakfast since you could not eat before this. Take your time and make yourself pretty. Tom is going to meet us at the restaurant." She added as she left the room. Slowly, Sam slipped on his clothes, Gloria's words rolling around and around in his head. He was so distracted, that he was surprised when something solid in his skirt pocket bounced against his hip as he dressed. It was his recorder, and it had been running throughout the examination. Quickly, he slipped it to his ear to find out if it caught any of what had been said. His luck was changing. Gloria's every word, particularly every word concerning the conspiracy and forged records, was perfectly audible and understandable. Sam broke the cassette's record tab so that the conversation could not be inadvertently recorded over, and slipped both it and the recorder into a zippered pocket of his purse. Then, with a new spring in his step, he went to join Gwen and Gloria. ~----------~ Breakfast and the rest of the day was actually fun. Gloria and Gwen took him shopping for some new clothes, and to Sam's amazement, he enjoyed it. Certainly, a big part of that was the company he was keeping. Neither of the women with him shared Susan's intense desire to punish him or Jane's shear pleasure at seeing him humiliated. A couple of times, the three of them almost forgot that they were anything but friends out for a day at the mall. The other difference was that Gwen did not completely discount his opinions about the clothing. She did point out when an outfit's color was wrong for him, but she did not intentionally call attention to his ignorance of the fashions on display in an effort to embarrass him. She did not let him off the hook. The outfits they selected would still draw the immediate attention of every male in her vicinity, but she made an effort to make him feel a part of the decision process. Perhaps that is why he felt better about the clothes they purchased, especially the little jewel bright blue silk party dress. Sam was already imagining Tom seeing her in that dress, as well as Tom helping her out of that dress. And then there was the slinky lingerie that Gloria had insisted were absolutely required for that dress. They even let him have a pair of jeans! Of course, the things were so tight he'd needed help getting the fly closed, and moving about in them was really hard, but they *were* pants! And Samantha looked *great in them*. All of which came back to haunt her later as the trio made their way back to Susan's apartment. It was the empathic Gwen who noticed how strangely quiet Sam had become once they had left the mall. "Is something the matter, Sam-dear?" she asked quietly. Sam shook his head and continued to stare out the window. "I don't believe that from the little ones who come to us at the clinic, Sam, and I don't believe it from you. Now, tell me what is wrong? What happened to the happy young woman who just got a scrumptious dress to kick up her heels in?" Shaking his head, Sam knew nothing would deter Gwen. She was the most easy going of the conspirators, but she was dogged when her healing instincts were aroused, and she had decided something was wrong. It did not matter that she was right and that he did not want to discuss it just then, she would not let up until she had excised what ever was festering inside him. He sighed. "That is just it, Gwen. For a while this morning, I was a happy young woman. I forgot who and what I am. I should not have enjoyed shopping for women's clothes. I should not have enjoyed trying on all those slinky things. I am a guy!" Gwen studied Sam for a few moments before answering him. "I could say that you are wrong, Sam, that you are not a guy. That would be true, but it would also be a lie. Only you know who Sam Gordan is right now, and you have to deal with that reality. I will just say two things. One, you looked really great in those slinky things, Sam. Lingerie is pretty and it is sexy. It is sexy on women, and I bet, if you had let yourself try it when you were male, it would have been sexy on you then. Lingerie is just plain sexy, Sam, and only your preconceived notions of right and wrong, male and female prevented you from finding that out and enjoying it. Today, you *were* a happy, very pretty young woman, and for a while, you let yourself enjoy that." Gwen reached over to tilt Sam's chin so that their eyes locked. "And there is *nothing* wrong with that, okay?" Sam tried to find a flaw in that, but his mind did not seem to be working. All he could think of was that those wispy bits of satin, silk and lace had been sexy, and, and he had felt good about wearing them. He'd felt . . . pretty. Still, he had to fight. "But. . ." "But *nothing*, Sam." Gwen cut him off. "I said I had two things to say, Sam. The second one was that the *person* I spent the morning with was *much* nicer and *much* more likeable than the old, male-stereotyped Sam Gordan. The person I was with today is someone I could really get to like if she, or he, was around a little more often. I had fun, too." She finished simply. That stunned Sam. All he could think of to say was, "I'm glad." and the words came out as a whisper. "Sam?" Gloria spoke up for the first time. He looked over to see her eyes looking at him in the rear view mirror. He raised his brows in question. "I agree with everything Gwen just said. Loosen up a bit more like you did today. It will make this easier on us and a whole lot easier on you. There's no reason you can't have some fun while you're with us, is there?" The problem was, Sam was not sure about that. He was very afraid that if he let himself enjoy this too much, then he would lose and the women would have won. He might even do something really stupid, like decide to stay Samantha. Chapter 7: Conflict at the Game Cock Susan, Lois and Jane were waiting for them at the apartment. All of them were revved to go out for the evening, and of course, they insisted that Sam go, too. Tom would not be going with them since he was traveling, which led to another small victory for Sam. After seeing the results of the shopping trip, Susan immediately wanted Sam to wear the new blue dress. Sam balked, wanting to save it for a night when Tom could enjoy it, too. After some ill grace, and some support from Gwen, Gloria and, surprisingly, Lois, Sam got his wish. It was a semi-pyrrhic victory, however, since Susan laid out the black dress and heels that made him feel like a hooker. But Sam put it on without demure, and did his own makeup. That way he could use a lighter hand than Susan would have if given the chance. The Game Cock was jammed, but George had a table reserved for them. Sharon was already there when they got to their seats. Hugs and kisses were exchanged and the women and Sam sat down to catch up on the news. The conversation quickly became technical, and Sam had a hard time understanding what they were talking about, but he tried, anyway. Gwen's advice was still fresh in his mind, so he made a special effort to relax and enjoy the company. He was quietly amused at the surprised and speculative looks he was getting from Lois and Sharon, who had not seen him in recent days. Evidently the saying, 'when in doubt, smile. It will confuse the hell out of people', worked in this oddball situation. He even caught a surreptitious "A-OK" sign from a smiling Gwen. That helped, too, and eventually, Sam was just mellowing out and enjoying the music and the conversation. It really was too bad that Tom wasn't here, because he wanted to feel like this with him. He even accepted, without any duress from the women, invitations to dance. After all, Tom liked to dance, and Sam was not as good at it as he was. This was a great opportunity to practice. Sadly, however, the best laid plans of mice and transformed men oft times go a'glee. More concisely stated, that means that *stuff* happens and in this case, the *stuff* was Greg Wallace. He was already half in the bag when he discovered their table. He immediately started hitting on each of them for a dance. One by one, they begged off. Was it intentional that he left Sam to ask last, Sam wondered. The smirk on the bastard's face when he said "How about you, Sammie-baby?" answered that question. Especially when, before Sam could refuse him, he turned to Susan and said. "What do you say, Susan? How about letting me take a turn with your little protege here?" Sam gave Susan a plaintive look, but she simply stared back at him, unmoved. When he hesitated, Susan withdrew the stir stick from her drink and held it between her middle and index fingers. She mouthed at him to "say yes" as she depressed the top of the stick with her thumb, sliding its length between her other two fingers. There it was again, Sam sighed, the threat of that final injection, and she was not even being subtle about it. Sam rose and offered his hand to Greg. Jane's laughter rang in his ears as he was manhandled onto the dance floor. It was too much, he thought, it was just too damn much. He was sick and tired of being a victim all the time. He was going to do something about it and now appeared to be golden opportunity. Greg very accommodatingly, provided Sam the chance he was looking for. No sooner were they on the dance floor, but he had his hands all over Sam's body. Sam gave him a quelling look that he ignored. "Greg?" he whispered. "Yeah, Sammie-baby?" he slurred, as he tried to slip the hand on Sam's back beneath the bodice of his party dress. Sam moved closer to Greg and put his mouth near Greg's ear. He wanted to make sure that the women at the table thought he was flirting with the drunken fool. "If you don't keep that hand out of my dress and behave like a gentleman, I am going to have to hurt you." Greg drew his head back and looked down at Sam. Plainly, from the smirk on his face, he discounted Sam's ability to carry out the threat. His hand kept fondling Sam, and he even tried to put his mouth on Sam's. Enough was enough. Sam slipped his hand from Greg's arm to a place near his armpit. Then, Sam focused as Janet had taught him and drove a thumb into the nerve cluster that resided there. Sam used Greg's own attempt at a kiss to stifle his scream as the technique made the entire arm go limp with fiery pain. "Say one word, asshole, just one word, and I will do it again. Harder." Sam enjoyed the glaze of pain and fear that fogged the man's eyes. "I will get you for this, bitch." he whispered harshly. "Oh, I don't think so. Do you know, that my heel is only about quarter inch square?" Sam continued conversationally. "If I were to come down on just that heel with all my weight? Say, right on the knuckle that connects your little toe to your foot? It would be crushed. They might even have to amputate." Greg's eyes went wide and he started pushing Sam away. Sam held on and continued. "Now, you are going to escort me back to my table like a gentleman once this dance is over, and then you will leave the club. You will leave me and my friends alone, or I will show you another technique I learned in self defense class." Sam brushed a knee across Greg's groin, letting it linger a second against the pouch of his manhood. "And I will turn those nuts you are so proud of into paste. Can you spell marzipan, Greggie-boy?" Sam's voice was deadly cold now, and she again dug her thumb into the tortured nerve cluster. "Do. . .you . . .understand?" Greg swallowed hard, but did not speak. Sam made another dancing twirl that allowed his knee to contact Greg's groin again. "Shit, yes. I understand." "Very well, then you may escort me back to my seat." If the other women suspected something, they did not mention it. Jane was a bit disappointed when Sam did not rise to her teasing about how she liked being with a man like Greg. The inference that Greg and the old Sam were two of a kind was not lost on Sam, but he only smiled and said. "Greg is all right, if you know how to handle him. Must take one to know one, Jane." The party broke up shortly thereafter, and Sam went back to his room feeling better than he had in many days. It was a small start, but it *was* a start. Sam might not have felt quite so good, however, if he had seen the look on Greg Wallace's face as he departed the club. Sam had a new enemy, and this one hated him. Chapter 8: An Unexpected Turn for the Worse The next few days passed quietly for Sam. Susan really did have pressing work at her office, so for the most part, she left him alone. Sam continued going to the gym every day, and became even more intense about his self defense lessons after the encounter with Wallace. Strangely, Sam could not remember feeling better in his life. The combination of regular exercise and the healthy food Susan pushed on him had worked wonders. The absence of work related stress was another major factor. Sam simply felt *great*, so it came as a very nasty surprise when his second menses struck a week after the trip to Gloria's clinic. This time was much worse than the first had been, bringing with it severe cramps and frequent bouts of nausea. It also brought a much heavier flow than his first time. Sam had been forced to change the tampon repeatedly each of his two heaviest days, to the point where Sam feared he was actually hemorrhaging instead. Really frightened that something might be wrong with is new insides, Sam had pounded on his locked bedroom door until Susan had finally roused. He had felt awful and must have looked worse. Even Susan had been concerned about him; concerned enough to bury whatever hatchet had still separated her from Gloria, and to ask the doctor to come over and look at Sam. "Well, Samantha-dear, this *is* an unusually harsh and difficult period," Gloria said as she put away her instruments, "but I don't think it is anything to worry about. I will check in on you in the morning before I go to the clinic, and then again on my way home until you are through this." She smiled wickedly, unable to resist just a small barb. "Now you know what being on the rag really means, little girl. Feeling *wrung out*, dear?" "More like something that has been put through the wringer, Gloria." "Well, that shot I gave you should settle your stomach and help you relax so that you rest. I'd wear something ol