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****************************************************** THE WITNESS PROTECTION PROGRAM WITH A TG TWIST by Deane Christopher Copyrighted 1999 ****************************************************** "I have no further questions for the witness, your honor.", the attorney who was leading Jason Tamborn's defense team said in a off-handed manner; knowing with a certainty that though he had tried every ploy he knew during the course of his lengthy cross-examination, he had been unable to impeach Daniel Faber's testimony. The judge, with a cursory glance to his wristwatch as he did so, perfunctorily inquired, "Does the prosecution wish to re-direct?" "No, your honor. The prosecution does not." "Very well then, the witness is excused." Heartened by the fact that his long awaited testimony was now behind him, a much relieved Daniel Faber stepped out of the witness box and began his passage out of the courtroom. As he did so, no less than four burly and alert FBI agents along with an extremely attractive twenty-something year old woman rose from the aisle seats they had been occupying and formed a protective cordon about him. Passing out of the courtroom and into one of the magnificently marbled hallway of Washington's Federal Court Building, two other agents, both carrying concealed, yet easily assessable Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns, took up their assigned positions, with one preceding the entourage to act as pointman and the other, taking up the rearguard position. Briskly, Faber and his armed entourage made their way along the hallway and, upon turning a corner, ducked into a small, sparsely appointed holding room who's security was being expertly maintained by no less than another four heavily armed FBI agents. "Well, I'm glad that's finally over.", Daniel wearily offered comment as he entered the room and proceed to take a seat at the conference table which fairly dominated the room's interior. "I guess you are, Mr. Faber. I guess you are.", Justice's Liaison Officer Grace Clark concurred, knowing fully well that in one manner of speaking or another, it would never be over for the unfortunate Mr. Daniel Faber. It would only be different. "So now what, Grace?", Dan, who was on a first name bases with Justice's Ms. Clark, felt the need to asked. "Do you guys turn me over to the whomever in the hell it is who will be handling my being processed into the Federal Witness Protection Program or what?" "No, Dan.", with regret clearly evident in her voice, Grace Clark reluctantly replied. "Sorry to say that until we are directed otherwise, you are to remain under FBI protection for the near to foreseeable future." "How come?", a disgruntled Dan Faber demanded, as the hallway door opened to admit Paul Shucks, head Federal Prosecutor for the government's case against Jason Tamborn. "Tell you what, Dan.", Grace Clark pleasantly returned. "I'm going to let Mr. Shucks here answer that question for you." Paul Shucks, having caught the gist of what was going on as he maneuvered his massive body around the close confines of the room in order to take a seat directly across the table from Dan, took up the cudgel, saying as he did so, "First, we wait for a conviction. Which, thanks to your testimony Mr. Faber, I do believe we will most assuredly secure. Then, as sad as I am to have to tell you this, especially so after what you've up and done for us in the government's case against that arrogant son of a bitch Tamborn, we going to have to put you back in cold storage for just a little while longer." "And why's that, Mr. Shucks?", Dan Faber despondently inquired. "Because of the appeals process, Mr. Faber. While I know that you're getting ency and that you'd like nothing better than to get on with your life, I'm sorry to say that we are going to have to keep you on ice for awhile longer on the off chance that something unforeseen happens, necessitating the need for us to call on you to testify again. "However, be advised that once Tamborn's appeals process has run its' course and that cretin is safely behind bars, as I assure you he will be, Mr. Faber, rest assured that you have my personal guarantee that the Justice Department will move Heaven and Earth to show you just how much it appreciates all the cooperation you've afford us." Thinking, 'Yeah! Right!', a noticeable disturbed Dan Faber replied, "Pray tell! Just how long do think Tamborn's appeals process might take before everything is all said and done, Mr. Shucks?" "Anywhere from six months to... shall we say... three years at the outside.", Paul Shucks promptly returned. "However, Mr. Faber, though I don't want to get your hopes up, there's a pretty good chance that Tamborn's lawyers, aware that your testimony has - in effect - nailed their client's ass to the wall, might be able to persuade their client to wise up and reconsider the extremely generous plea bargain we offered Tamborn at the outset. And should he do so, Mr. Faber, you, my friend, will be off the hook. Encouraged by Mr. Shucks' news, Dan Faber's attitude underwent a remarkable uplift as he eagerly prompted, "Did I hear you correctly, Mr. Shucks? Are you saying that if Tamborn cuts a deal with you, I'm off the hook? And I get to get my life back?" With a degree of reluctance clearly conveyed in his voice, Shucks continued on to clarify the matter, "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Mr. Faber. "As you well know," Shucks continued, "Jason Tamborn is only the linchpin in the despicable plot that was to have brought about the assassination of several of the Supreme Courts more conservative members. If, the people who solicited his rather unique brand of services are who and what we believe them to be, I think it's safe to say that they are not going to allow your duplicity in the matter go unpunished. "Make no never mind about this, Mr. Faber! The people that we believe Jason Tamborn can finger for us are very, very powerful people. So powerful in fact that, were anyone of them to place a personal call to the President of the United States, no matter what he was engaged in at the time, the president would feel obligated to excuse himself from whatever he was doing and take the call. "Believe me, Mr. Faber, these people, who must, out of necessity, remain nameless for the time being, have an agenda. You, coming to us the way you did, threw a monkey wrench into but one of the means by which they were hoping to put that agenda of their's on the fast track. "Be warned, Mr. Faber: they will neither forgive nor forget your involvement in the matter..." * * * That evening, at an FBI safehouse located in the vicinity of Lenoardstown Maryland, atop the fossil laden chalk deposits that form much of the western shoreline of the Chesapeake Bay from Chesapeake City southward, the female FBI agent whose task was to screen the incoming calls that were discretely routed through several NSA facilities, alerted Grace Clark to the fact that Mr. Shucks over at Justice wished to talk to her. Excusing herself form the inconsequential conversation she was engaged in with a mildly despondent Dan Faber, Grace, saying she'd be back in a moment, went to take the call. A minute or so later, with a great big shit-eatin' grin spreading happily across her face, Grace Clark waltzed back into the room and giddily informed Dan that Jason Tamborn had reluctantly accepted Justice's plea bargain offer; adding in an afterthought, that as soon as Shucks and his legal team got threw thoroughly debriefing Tamborn and had secured his John Hancock on a affidavit attesting to the facts he was even then in the process of giving them, they would call her so that she in turn could start the ball rolling with respect to getting Dan enrolled into the Federal Witness Protection Program. Somewhere around half past three the next morning, Grace Clark roused Dan from sleep and curtly informed him that she had just been given the green light from one of Shuck's deputies and for him to get dressed so that they could get crakin' and get on the move, A.S.A.P.! Shortly thereafter, Dan, dressed in a worn pair of jeans, scuffed linemen boots, blue denim workshirt and a navy windbreaker, having exchanged good-byes with Grace Clark, was hustled, under the cover of darkness, into the back of a one of the three nondescript white panel vans whose rear and side windows were so darkly tinted that they appeared to be almost black. And so began Dan Faber's six day interstate odyssey traveling the highways and byways of America in a concerted effort to thoroughly bamboozle anyone's attempt to ascertain his whereabouts. Traveling in a wide assortment of vehicles Dan was kept constantly on the move. Then, just when he thought he was on the verge of going bonkers, Dan was informed, via an intercom system that allowed him two way communication with the undercover FBI agent who was riding shotgun up in the nondescript looking eighteen wheeler's cab, to get ready to make yet another transfer. Having received and dutifully repeated the precise instructions that had been relayed to him, Dan opened the trailers rather nifty trapdoor and dropped to the tarmac below. Using a hunched over duck waddle, Dan moved out from underneath the trailer and as quickly as his road weary body would allow, climbed somewhat awkwardly into the right front seat of a dilapidated, rust eaten, red Ford panel-sided van. "Buckle up so I can get this show on the road, Dan.", a very familiar female voice curtly instructed. Caught completed off guard, Dan, who was having a difficult time trying to locate the restraining strap, pleasantly exclaimed, "Grace! My, my! I must say that this is an unexpected surprise! "When we parted company damn near a week ago, I never - Ever! - expected to see you again!" "That's the idea, Dan!", Grace returned, as she put the van in drive and began to maneuver it out of the sparsely populated truck stop. "You are quite correct! By all rights, I should be out of the loop at this juncture! And that - in a nut shell - is exactly why I'm handling the chauffeuring duties for this particular leg of your journey and not the FBI. "As far as everyone except my immediate superior over at Justice is concerned, I'm off enjoying a well deserved month long vacation in Maui. "Hey!", Dan, upon realizing that there was no escort vehicle of any sort accompanying them, registered an objection. "What gives, Grace? How come we don't have anyone chaperoning us?" "In order to make this disappearing act of yours work Dan, the fewer people who know where I'm taking you, the better. "If you say so...", Dan's reply was laced with a hint of skepticism. "Please! Try and relax, Dan. Trust me! I know what I'm doing and I assure you, everything will be A-okay. "In just a few short days from now, nobody - And I do mean nobody, Dan! - save for myself and the person we are on our way to see will be able to recognize you." "Oh!", Dan said. "So, I take it you're taking me to see a plastic surgeon." "Normally, were you not the media celebrity that you've unwittingly become, we might be doing just that. "However Dan, while a plastic surgeon can produce some remarkable results, using one in your particular case would be a little to risky. Now a days, anyone with a PC and one of the upper echelon ident programs could replicate any cosmetic changes that a plastic surgeon might render. Eventually, an exhaustive and time consuming search of various data bases would route the new and surgically improved you out and then, you'd be shit out of luck." "So, if you're not taking me to see a plastic surgeon - Pray tell! - who then are you taking me to see, Grace?" Opting to ignore Dan's question for the time being, Grace replied by asking a question of her own. "Dan! Tell me something! Given the unenviable choice of either being killed or living the rest of your life as a woman, which would you chose?" "Huh!", Dan wasn't sure he had heard Grace's question correctly. Knowing that what she was proposing would be a bitter pill for her companion to swallow, Grace Clark prefaced the restating of her question by continuing on to say, "It's like this, Dan! You can of course elect to go the plastic surgeon route. However, should you do so, given the high powered movers and shakers who are behind the people who Tamborn ratted out, make no never mind about this! They will spare no expense hunting you down! And when they eventually find you - Which, of course, they no doubt will! - they won't just have you killed, Dan! Oh, no! Believe me! They will take perverse pleasure in making an example out you by having you tortured and then, after they've extracted whatever revenge they deem fitting for betraying their agenda, as a warning to others, they'll leave you to die a most miserable and excruciating death. "Or, you can take that silly macho/male ego crap of yours and stuff it where the sun don't shine and let me take you to the one person I know who can pretty much ensure that no one will ever be able to track you down! "And that - Dan! - brings us back to the question that I put to you before. Do you want to go the normal route and there by risk the high probability of your being eventually tracked down, tortured and most likely killed or, would you prefer the admittedly wacked-out, wild-assed alternative I'm offering you, with that wacky and wild-assed alternative of mine being: undergoing a drastic and comprehensive sexual re-assignment so that you can safely live out the rest of your life as am anatomically correct and fully functional female member of society?" "Grace!", Dan , though he did so with a degree of apprehension clearly conveyed in his voice, chuckled as he continued on with his comments. "That's the silliest damn thing I've ever heard! "I mean, you're not seriously suggesting that somebody has come up with a way to actually change a man into a woman!" "Oh, but I am, Dan! As crazy and absurd as it sounds, that's exactly what I am suggesting! "You see, Dan, several years ago, driving along this very same road that we're driving along now, as hard as this might be for you to believe, my boss over at Justice put the very same question to me." "Am I to take it that you trying to tell me that you use to be a man, Grace?" "Yes, Dan. That's correct. As hard as it might be for you to believe, I use to be a guy." "So what you're telling me is: you actually let somebody hack off your male gentiles and fit you out with a reasonable facsimile of a woman's cunt!" "No, Dan.", Grace replied flatly. "That's not what I'm saying at all. "You seem to have missed the point." "I have, have I?" "Yes, Dan!", Grace was emphatic. "You most certainly have! "You see, Dan! I don't just look like a woman! I am a woman! At least in a purely physically sense I'm a woman! "I mean, I'm guy! Who is now a girl! Who menstruates! You know, like roughly every twenty eight days or there abouts! Whether I want to or not! "Furthermore, if some son of a bitch were to slip me a mickey and proceed on to have his way with me - Perish the thought! - I could even end up pregnant! "Hell, Dan! Would you believe that as a woman, I even suffer form sever bouts of PMS every now and again!" "You're not shittin' me, are you?", Dan incredulously heard himself inquire. "No, Dan! I'm not..." As a thoroughly flabbergasted Dan Faber sat there attentively listening, Grace Clark methodical told him how she, as a male and former chief petty officer in the much lauded United States Navy Seals, had ended up becoming a very attractive member of the fairer sex. Having been a Marine Corps sniper who had been surreptitiously assigned to several CIA Black Ops himself, Dan, though he was eager to do so, couldn't find fault with either the technical or military aspects of Grace's incredible story. Ironically, Grace's story was damn near a carbon copy of his own. Grace, during her gung ho days as a Seal Team member and top-notched demolition and small arms expert, was approached by a mid-level career officer from the Justice Department who, upon appealing to Grace's sense of patriotism, continued on enlist his help as an undercover operative. Shortly there after, on trumped up charges of conduct unbecoming, Grace received a dishonorable discharge from the Navy. Several months after that, as the male Grace sat in a barroom a couple blocks east of the Naval Base in Norfolk Virginia sipping suds and loudly bemoaning the cruel hand that fate had unjustly dealt him, first contact was made. A man, who would play an analogous role with Grace to that which Jason Tamborn had with Dan, sat down on the next bar stool and struck up a casual conversation. The guy was good. Like Tamborn, Grace's recruiter had the appropriate jargon down pat. Had he been talking to anyone else but Grace, he might have thoroughly convinced them that he had been both an ex-navy man himself and a former commercial diver as well. Grace knew better and, under other circumstances, would not have hesitated one iota on calling the guy on the line of bullshit he was spewing. However, even though the arrogant blowhard had thoroughly pissed the Ex-Navy Seal off, Grace accepted the guy's offered to buddy up with him for a long weekend of diving a few of the many wrecks located off of the Outer Banks of North Carolina, chief among those, the U352 of Hitler's vaunted Kriegsmarine. Other diving weekends followed and then, following pretty much the same formalized approach that Tamborn had employed with Dan, Grace's recruiter inquired as to whether or not Grace would be interested in something that, while illegal, was right up his alley and would set him up for a life of affluent leisure. Two weeks later, while he and that new diving buddy of his were doing some nitrox-diving off the New Jersey coast, Grace was appraised as to what would be required of him. Some influential friends of this so called new bosom buddy of Grace's were in the market for some high tech pyrotechnic devices that could, as Grace was lead to believe, take out a Lear Jet's stabilizing system at a pre-planned altitude or hole a fairly good sized yacht, so as to ensure that it would promptly sink, taking all aboard down to Davy Jones Locker with it. Though he tried on several occasions to learn the identities of his dive buddy's influential friends, Grace never managed to obtain them. However, Paul Shucks and his team of Federal prosecutors were somewhat more persuasive. Once appraised of all the charges and prison time he was facing if he didn't cooperate, Grace's recruiter, adopting the no honor among thieves credo, squealed like that proverbial pig that everybody and his brother is always talking about; fingering more than a half a dozen high power movers and shakers in the business world as he did so. Trouble was, the government's case never went to court. As so often happens in such high profile cases involving certain elite members of our society, the primary witness against them died of what the Federal coroner would deem as 'suspicious causes'. Fearing a vendetta that would result in the untimely death of a patriotic Ex-Navy Seal, Lara Bigalow, Grace's former liaison officer and current boss at Justice, stepped in and, without authorization, usurped the normal handling of the Federal witness protection process and made Grace the very same offer that Grace had, in turn, made Dan. "Believe me, Dan! My initial reaction to this girl shit business was much the same as yours! Like you, I couldn't believe what I was hearing! For some inexplicable reason or another, I just figured that Lara was merely pulling my leg." "However, since I was at a loss to come up with any alternatives on my own, as skeptical as I was, I took Lara up on what I wrongly assumed to be her ludicrous offer and there by, to my ever lovin' amazement, became the woman I am today..." "You're shitting me! Right?" "No, Dan. I'm not. "I use to be a man! I am now a woman! At least,", Grace endeavored to qualify herself, "I'm a woman in a purely physical sense." "What do you mean? Physical sense?", Dan - confused - sought clarification. "Mentally, I'm still the same old horny assed bastard I use to be, Dan." "No shit?", Dan, taken aback by Grace's statement, exclaimed. "No shit!", Grace, with a smirk, concurred. "And believe me, Dan! That little fly in the ointment makes getting used to functioning as a woman a real pain in the ass at times." "I can see how it would." "You don't know the half of it, Dan! "However, if you take me up on my offer, guess what! You will!" * * * Dan took a lot more convincing. Grace was patient and that helped. Reluctantly, though he still didn't think it possible, Dan finally gave up the ghost and so, informed Grace that her prior assertion was indeed correct. Becoming a woman was indeed a far cry better than taking the chance of ending up dead. "So, you're going to go for it, Dan?" "Sure... Why the hell not! Since the alternative isn't all that appealing, I might as well take the plunge and find out how the other half lives." "That's the spirit, Dan!", Grace, with an unexpected gusto, brightly countered. "Is it painful?" "Is what painful, Dan?" "The change" "No...", Grace tactfully offered. "The change isn't in any way, shape or form painful. However,", her voice conveyed a sense of introspective thoughtfulness, "I found it to be somewhat disconcerting." "Disconcerting! How so?" "That's kind of hard to describe, Dan... "Tell you what though! While I can't even begin to put into words what the makeover process feels like, I can tell you that it'll be a hell of a lot easier for you if you don't try to fight it. "In others words, Dan, you need to just sort of go with the flow. If you know what I mean..." As an almost mandible sense of brooding silence began to permeated the van's interior, Dan, in an effort to get his mind off of his feckless contemplation of what he was letting himself in for, asked an off-the-wall question. "Grace! Just where in hell are we? "I mean, I know by the road signs and licenses plates that we've been passing for the last hour or so that we're in West By God Virginia! But just where in West By God Virginia are we?" "Let me think, Dan... "Okay! Unless I miss my guess here, I do believe that once we reach the crest of this ridge that we've been climbing for the last several minutes or so and begin our descent down the other side, given how bright the moon is tonight, we should be begin to catch glimpses of the spectacular craggy outcrops of West Virginia's scenic Seneca Rocks through breaks in the tree line directly ahead of us." "Oh! So where - Pray tell! - are we heading from here, Grace?" "You ever hear of the Dolly Sods, Dan? "No. Don't think so." "Well, for what it's worth, Dan, the Dolly Sods is a remote, plateau wilderness area that is located somewhat north of here. When we get to the intersection at bottom of the hill, I'll be making a left. From there, we'll be following the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac northward towards Smoke Hole Caverns. Then, just a few miles shy of the caverns, I'll be making another left, where upon, we'll be sort of doubling back on ourselves as we begin climbing the very ridge that we're in the process of crossing over now." Grace, in a concerted effort on her part to keep Dan distracted from contemplating what he had let himself in for, continued on to tell him about how the army had employed the Dolly Sods as an infantry training area during the days of World War Two. People, she proceeded on to informed him, were still coming across unexploded munitions from time to time. Then, in response to Dan's half hearted inquiry concerning the type of munitions that were generally turned up by hikers and campers who visited the unique flora and fauna of the Dolly Sods, Grace responded by saying that to her best recollection, she thought that they were rifle grenades of the type that could be fitted to the mussel of the M1 Garand and generally fired with the butt of the rife braced against the ground mortar style. The climb up from the road skirting the rock strewn Potomac was tortuously slow. It was one switchback after another and the badly rutted, single lane dirt road with its' sharp turns, nonexistent shoulders and fairly steep gradient forced Grace to exercise a modicum of caution. Reaching the plateau proper, Grace, made a left onto another dirt and gravel road and proceed slowly along it. Ten minutes after that, having stopped and directed Dan to unlock and then re-lock the entrance gate, Grace gingerly maneuvered the van down a private lane so rutted with pot holes that it was damn near impassable for a two wheel drive vehicle like the van they were in to navigate it successfully. Somehow, gaining Dan's admiration for her off-road driving skills in the process, Grace managed the feat without any major mishap. Five minutes after that, Grace had the van backed into what to the untrained observer would take to be an extremely dilapidated and weather worn barn. Turning on the battery of craftily concealed exhaust fans and opening the van's hood, Grace hefted one of the scads of CO2 fire extinguishers that seemed to be stockpiled within structure and promptly urged Dan to do likewise. When asked why he should do so, Grace, freely admitting that it was probably a foolish act of overkill on her part, informed him of her intent to use the CO2 extinguishers to cool the van's engine block and there by reduce and telltale heat signature of their vehicle. Dan, realizing that it was his life that was on the line, complied without further comment. With roughly thirty spent fire extinguishers resting somewhat haphazardly against the opposite wall, Grace turned off the exhaust fans and, locating what at first glance appeared to be an unusable handcart, wheeled it over to the van's rear double doors. Asking Dan to assist her, the two of them moved several ungainly cardboard boxes out of the van's interior and onto the cart. "What's in the boxes?", Dan nervously inquired. "Basically, I guess you call them care packages, Dan. "Though I do so infrequently, every time I pay Granny Clampett a visit, I bring her some special things that I think she might enjoy having. "Granny Clampett!" Dan's exclamation clear registered both his surprise and disbelief. "Okay! As you have may have already summarized for yourself Dan, Granny Clampett's not her real name. But that's how everybody who knows of her existence refers to her! And so - I think it prudent for me to point out - that's how you should refer to her as well. Alright?" Dan said he would as Grace on her part, closed and locked the vans rear doors. With that done, Grace continued on to ask Dan to assist her in covering it with a large plastic tarp. Having done so, Grace, with Dan in tow, wheeled the cart to the bogus barn's rearmost wall, where upon she promptly placed her right thumb on one knothole and move her right eye within an inch of another one. In short order a disembodied, electronically manufactured voice stated, "Thumb print and retinal scan verification completed. Agent Clark, please enter the lift and complete prescribed voice recognition sequence." At that, a portion of the wall before them split down the middle and the two door halves slid towards their respective walls. Grace, with cart in tow and employing a flick of her head to urge Dan to follow suit, entered the burnished metal confines of a small circular room. Stepping to the center of the glistening metallic floor, Grace, knowing what was expected of her, began. "Grace Clark. Witness Liaison Officer with the United States Justice Department. Passcode ID: Alpha Ventura Niner Six. Authorization Code: Parsec Fifty Two dash Zero Five One." "Authorization Code confirmed. Please state access level." "Access Level Two.", Grace dutifully supplied. Confirming Dan suspicions, Grace offered comment, "The silo functions as the cover for an elevator shaft." "Kind of neat and if I do say so myself. Very James Bondish!", Dan responded. "It is, isn't it?" "Yeah, it sure hell is! "Grace, just what in the hell is this place?" "Beats me! My authorization code only allows me access to Level Two's warren of tram accessed passageways! "I mean, for all I know Dan, there could be a whole shitload of other levels down here, each one designated for who knows what!" The doors opened in front of them and Grace, pushing the cart in front of her, exited the elevator cab and prompted a noticeable intimidated and much bemused Dan Faber to do likewise as she cheerily encouraged, "Come on kiddo! Time's a wasting! Your girlhood awaits!" As a very discombobulated Dan stepped gingerly, if not fearfully, out and onto a brilliantly lit metal platform that was itself contained within a skillfully hewed out limestone ensconced tunnel-like alcove, he belatedly came to the realization that he was in some sort of ingeniously contrived, high-tech monorail station. Grace, keenly aware that her charge was having a hard time coming to grips with all that he was experiencing, wheeled the handcart onto the rear deck portion of the open-aired tram car and proceeded to secure it, via some nifty, cam-like locking devices that were provided for the purpose of doing just that. "Come on, Dan! You've lollygagged long enough! Get your ass in gear and hop into this car so we can get this show on the road!", Grace good naturally chided, as she teasingly took her right hand and used it to invitingly pat the seat cushion next to her. Though he did so awkwardly, Dan nevertheless did as he was directed. Once her charge had seated himself, Grace, using what looked to be a simple telephone key pad, punched in the designation code for Granny Clampett's lodgings and with a whooshing sound of pneumatic brakes being released, the tram car dutifully responded by smoothly accelerating out of the station and into the disquieting maw of a eerily and dimly lit tunnel. All of a sudden, the walls, ceiling and floor of the tunnel feel away, plunging a startled Dan into a moment of sheer and utter terror as the small tram car he and Grace were riding in seemed to effortless glide through a void of green tinged blackness that was in turn, populated by what Dan initially took to be the most grotesque and monstrous forms imaginable. Then, as the otherworldly void was in its' turn, replaced by the panic abating confines of the limestone walls of yet another man-made tunnel, Dan belated came to the realization of what had just occurred. "Grace!", Dan, in relief, exclaimed gleefully. "Did we just pass through a cavern? "I mean, those were stalagmites and stalactites I just saw go whizzing past, weren't they? "They sure as hell were, Dan! "The whole ridge is honeycombed with 'em!", Grace said, confirming Dan's assertion, even as the car they were riding in began to transverse another cavern room that was a good three times larger then the previous one they had passed through. "Wow! This is fantastic! Why didn't you tell me?" "I wanted it to be a surprise, Dan!" "Oh! It was a surprise alright! "I mean, there's a good chance that I'm going to need to excuse myself when we get to this Granny Clampett's of yours so that I can change into a fresh pair of boxer shorts! You know, because I do believe that I may have just shit myself!" "Sorry, Dan! No can do!" "How come?" "No boxer shorts!" "That's okay! A pair of jockeys will suffice..." "Sorry, Dan! No jockeys either! "However,", Grace, thoroughly enjoying the moment, gleefully teased, "once you've completed your sexual reassignment, I can offer you any number of panties. Skimpy! Sexy! Satin ones! The kind of panties that'll have that male mind of yours creaming in your jeans..." "Grace!", Dan's harshly delivered complaint echoed, in a Doppler- like fashion, off the walls of the voluminous cavern chamber they were at the time rocketing across. Then, as they passed out of the cavern they had been traversing and into another man-made tunnel segment, Dan, in a tone that clearly conveyed a raw sense of hurt, beseechingly intoned, "Come on, Grace! Cut me some slack here! Alright? "I mean, this girl shit is really starting to get to me! So much so, that I'm beginning to have some serious second thoughts about going through with it! "So please, Grace! Do me a favor! Ease up on me!" "Sorry, Dan! You're right! I was wrong! I promise! From here on out, I'll watch my Ps & Qs so it won't happen again! Right on the heels of her apology, Grace's intonations took on an urgency as she changed course in mid stream by continuing on to say, "Dan! When we come out of this tunnel, look down and to the right!" "An just what am I looking for, Grace?" "A monorail track, running about five feet above the cavern floor and perpendicular to the one we're on." Dan saw it and the cave it disappeared into. "Are there others?" "Yes.", Grace replied. "There's a whole slew of them. But, you really need to know where to look in order to see them." "So, I take it that there really are other levels down here." "Yes." "Have you ever seen another tram car?" "No.", Grace casually admitted. "But I think that I've heard one a time or two." "Do you mean that metallic clicking sound that I keep hearing from time to time?" "No. That sound comes from the relays controlling the lights." "Oh!", realization dawned on Dan. "That's right! I remember now! When it comes to cave and cavern systems, lights aren't exactly environmentally friendly! They tend to promote moss and lichen growth if left on for any length of time. "See! Contrary to what Beth - that's the young lady I took to see Luray Caverns a year or so ago - claimed, I was listening to what our spunky little tour guide said. And I definitely heard the part of her canned spiel that specifically dealt with lights, lichen and all that other razzamatazz that has to deal with the preservation of cave and cavern systems." "My, my!", Grace said with a chuckle. "Have I been wrong all these years?" "Wrong about what?", Dan, unknowingly, bit. Hook, line and sinker! "About you jar-heads! "About how it takes a hundred and forty one of you to come up to the level of gross ignorance!" "Well...", Dan began as he frantically groped for a fitting retort. "Coming from an ex-squid and a snake-eater to boot, who - I should point out! - looks damn good in skirts, I think I'll take that as a compliment!" A few minutes later, as Grace went about the task of removing the cart from the tram car, she broached another matter that she hoped would help ally some of Dan's fears and reservations. "Dan." "Yes." "To protect and preserve your anonymity, I'm going to introduce you to Granny as Sam. Alright?" "Sure. But is that really necessary? You know, what with all the media coverage I've been receiving here of late, Grace. "I mean, if she's watched any TV at all, she's bound to recognize me." "Believe me, Dan. Granny won't recognize you." "How come? I mean, are you telling me that this Granny Clampett of yours doesn't watch TV?" "No, Dan! Granny watches a lot of TV! "Fact is, living alone out here in the boondocks like she does, you might say that Granny's an avid TV addict. "And you're seriously suggesting that she still won't recognize me?" "Trust me Dan, Granny won't know you from Adam." "How come?" "Because Dan, Granny's TV feed is on a fiber optic cable that is routed through a NSA facility that automatically filters out anything that even remotely resembles a news program." "Oh! Lucky woman!" * * * "Granny. This is my friend, Sam.", Grace, handling the introductions, began. "And I brought Sam to see you so that he might receive some of your special treatment." "Please to meet me you, Sam.", Granny Clampett said in her highly accented English. "Please, come in." "Grace, while Sam and I get better acquainted, could I impose on you to attend to preparing the arboretum's lily pond for us?" Grace, saying that she'd be more than happy to comply with the diminutive South American Indian woman's request, reassuringly informed Dan that she was leaving him in good hands and having done so, politely excused herself. Leading Dan into a comfortable, rustically appointed living room of a rather large, glass fronted A-frame that extended outwards from the craggy hillside, Granny bid him take a seat at the small table that granted its' occupant a magnificent vista of the next ridge over and the Potomac River Valley below. "The view is breath taking, is not Sam?", the woman known as Granny Clampett commented as she, upon seating herself, took a crystal decanter and from it, poured a small amount of some pungently smelling liquid into an 8 oz. juice glass. "Yes. It most certain is.", Dan concurred. Without mincing words, the elderly South American woman got right to the point. Choosing her words with great care, Granny proceeded on to ask the all important and, to her mind, obligatory question, "So Sam, am I correct in assuming that my Gracy has brought you here so that you too can become one of my girls?" "Yes.", Dan, though he did so reluctantly, replied. "You do realize that once done, the change you seek cannot be undone?" "Yes. Grace has implied as much." "Well then Sam, if you are indeed resolved to take this change upon yourself, please, pick up the glass and partake of the elixir I have placed before you. Dan, though he did so with a great sense of dread and foreboding, reluctantly did as directed. Placing the empty glass back on the table, Dan felt the need to ask, "How long?" "Long and not so long.", Granny ambiguously replied. Standing, Granny encouraged Dan to do likewise, saying as she did so, "Come, Sam! Before the change is upon you, we need to relocated to the arboretum." Taking Dan by the arm, Granny escorted him back towards the A- frame's kitchen area, where upon she turned down a side hallway, passed through first one and then a second hermetically sealed doorway and from there, out into the oppressive confines of a large glassed-in, geodesic bio- sphere, housing the flora and fauna of what Dan correctly assumed to be clearly reminiscent of the Amazon Rain Forest. "Welcome to my home away form home, Sam.", Granny Clampett proudly announced. "I apologize for the heat and humidity and I assure you that you will quickly become acclimated to it." Thinking that there was no way in hell that he would ever become even remotely acclimated to the sphere's oppressive heat and humidity, Dan, who was sweating away to the beat the band, didn't think it would be prudent for him to point out the fallacy in Granny's prior assertion. Sometimes, as he learned through the school of hard knocks, discretion was indeed the better part of valor. Just as Dan was taking the seat that Granny had so graciously offered him, Grace entered the glass-in enclosure carrying a Plexiglas transport cage in each of her hands. As she passed by, Dan took note of the fact that each transport cage contained a rather hefty sized frog of the most unusually indigo coloration. Moving to the lily pond's octagon shaped retaining wall, Grace placed one Plexiglas container on lip of the near side and, having done so, proceeded around to the far side of the pond where she dutifully placed the other. As she did so, Dan took note of the fact that two other frog occupied transport units already resided at the other two cardinal points of the walled in pool. A somewhat perplexed and overtly curious Dan was just about to inquire as to what purpose the frogs served with respect to the feminization he assumed he was about to undergo, when Granny Clampett intruded on his thoughts by asking a question of her own, "Tell me, Sam. Does if feel as hot and humid now as it did at first?" "No.", A clearly mystified Dan distractedly replied. "As odd as it sounds, I'm not even perspiring anymore." "Good!", Granny Clampett stated flatly. "The change has begun. Your skin should begin to feel prickly." "It does!", Dan admitted. "I've got goose bumps running all up and down my arms and legs!" "That's to be expected, Sam.", Granny said compassionately, as a series of involuntary shivers began to wrack Dan's body. Grace, who had joined Dan on the wrought iron settee in an effort on her part to lend what comfort and solace she could by the mere fact of her nearness, felt prompted to confirm a prior assertion of hers. "Sam!", Grace began, remembering to use the bogus name she had given Dan. "You aren't feeling any pain are you?" "No!", Dan, employing a great deal of effort on his part, managed a gurgling and noticeably strained reply. "No pain! Just extreme amounts of discomfort!" Then, for some inexplicable reason or another, Dan glanced down at his hands and was horrified to see that his skin had taken on a sickening bluish tint. Further examination only served to compound his distress. His nails, he noticed, were damn near nonexistent and the loose portion of skin that resided in between each of his fingers had grown outward, so as to form a fleshy web extending back from the terminus points of each of his fingers' first knuckle joint. "Please!", Dan managed to croak, his formerly rich baritone resounding now as a deep, groveling bass. "What's happening?", his neck, having become slightly more elastic than it had been but a moment or so before, bulged outward as he took his next breath. "What have you done to me? You're not turning me into a girl are you?" "No, Sam.", Granny Clampett sadly confided. "The elixir you took is turning you into frog. The frogs there,", she continued, motioning with her hand towards the lily pond and the four Plexiglas containers that rested upon the lip of its' encircling enclosure, "will, over the course of the next three days or there abouts, complete the process of turning you into a female. "After that is accomplished, I will take the necessary steps that will return you to a human form, save that human form will be that of a female." "That's absurd !", Dan, employing the fleeting vestiges of a formerly human-like larynx, vehemently countered. "Sam.", Granny Clampett, aware that Dan was well on the way to loosing his ability to speak, endeavored to explain the situation. "I come from a very remote region of the Amazon Rain Forest, as do those frogs over there. As you might guess, their subspecies is an extremely rare and unusual one. "Would you believe Sam, all of them begin life as male tadpoles that evolve into adolescent male frogs, much as grouper fish all begin life as females. However, unlike the grouper fish, who undergoes a transsexualization during the normal aging process, as these frogs pass from their adolescent stage and into full adulthood, some as yet unexplained hierarchy is established in which the more dominated members of their subspecies remain male and the more submissive members become female." "That is why those big fellows over there have been kept separated, Sam. "Had I placed them all in the pond together, within a day or so, one or more of them would have undergone gender re-assignment. "Long ago, the shamans of my people learned of the frogs' secret and so, after much trail and error, devised the elixir of which you just partook. "You see Sam, the tribal clan from which I come is most unusual one due to the fact that it is governed over by a matriarchal council of eight women. Four of those woman comprising the council of elders are naturally born women. Four are men who have distinguished themselves as both fathers and hunters and so, are selected to be honored with the gift of womanhood and the extended, rejuvenated life that is bestowed along with that cherished gift. "I myself was born a man and as a man, I have fathered many children. Upon becoming a shaman to my people, I, as I knew I would, underwent the Frog Passage and so became a woman. As a woman,", Granny continued with a sense of pride clearly conveyed in her voice, "I bore even more children to add to the prosperity of my people." Just then, a pesky housefly, unaware of the fate that would shortly befall it, lifted off of Grace's left shoulder and flitted in the haphazard manner of flies, in front of Dan's oddly contorted, bug-eyed and progressively bluing face. As it did so, newly imprinted primal instincts kicked in and so, doomed the fly. Without even being aware of what he was doing, in the flickering of an instant, Dan's mouth ratcheted opened and a tongue that was longer than long shot, slingshot-like, from its' innards; catching the bothersome fly in mid-flight. Like a snapshot, the tongue and fly were whisked back inside his newly distended lips and with a gulp denoted by an elastic expansion and subsequent contraction of that bulbous new neck of his, Dan sent the insect- like morsel down his gullet, en route to his stomach, which like his tongue, was well on the way to becoming that of a unique subspecies of Amazonian amphibian. Dan's transmogrification into a frog progressed quickly from that point. Fifteen minutes after the incident with the luckless fly, Grace was busy digging her frogified charge out from underneath the pile of clothes he had been wearing. Taking a great deal of care not to do him any bodily harm, Grace conveyed the former Dan Faber to the lily pond and promptly released him into its' awaiting waters. Moving in a clockwise manner, Grace, as directed by Granny Clampett, proceed on to introduce the other four frogs into the pond. * * * Two days later, during one of their damn near hourly inspections, Granny pronounced that Sam and another one of frogs had been duly intimidated by their brethren and so, had begun the process of changing into functional females. When asked how she knew that by a most inquisitive Grace, Granny responded by pointing out the two frogs who had taken on a slightly lighter bluish coloration than that of their pond mates; adding as she did so that the two she had indicated would, over the course of next twenty four hours or so, progressively become both lighter hued and somewhat smaller in stature. Concerned for Dan's welfare, prompted Grace to ask Granny about that particular subspecies of frogs' normal gestation cycle and was promptly informed by the diminutive Amazonian that there was nothing to worry about in that regard, due to the fact that gestation would lag the transsexualization process by a good week to ten days or more. However, Granny continued on to tell Grace that should gestation occur, her unfortunate charge would be locked into being a female frog for the rest of his unnatural life. That evening, after Grace cleared away the dinner dishes and began the self-assumed chore of washing them, Granny began the task of preparing the potent that would restore Dan to human form. "So Grace, what color hair do you think we should make Sam's hair?" "Well...", Grace began thoughtfully, "since he seems to have a preference for blondes, why not make him one?" "Alright. We can do that.", Granny replied as she reached for the appropriate vial containing the ingredient that would alter Dan's genetic code in such a way as to turn him into a blonde. "Eyes?" "Green." "Complexion?" "How about a golden bronze, Granny?" "You mean something in the order of a perpetual tan, Grace?" "Yeah! That's the spirit! Since he likes looking at all those gorgeous honeys on Baywatch, why not turn him into a reasonable facsimile of one!" "And, I assume you want me to fit him out with a body to match?", Granny returned in a tone that clearly conveyed a sense of mock disapproval. "You've got that straight, Granny! After what Sam has done for this country, he deserves the best! "So...", Grace continued impishly, "I think you should pull out all the stops and do whatever you have to do to turn him into the girl of his dreams!" * * * The next morning, Grace woke; dressed and promptly joined Granny in the arboretum. "Which one is Sam, Granny?", Grace inquired, having taken note of the fact that two of the five frogs boasted a rich, sky blue coloration instead of the indigo hued of their pond mates. "That one.", Granny replied, indicating the one on the pool's far side. "How can you tell?" "The eyes! "Look closely, Grace. You can see intelligence lurking in that one's eyes." Grace did as direct, but had to confess, "I'm glad you can tell the difference Granny, because I for one, can't!" "Please bring be so kind as to bring Sam over here for me, Grace." Grace did as requested. Where upon, Granny, cautioning Grace to hold the Frog-San steady, used an eyedropper to squirt the restoration elixir into the amphibian's mouth. "Set her down, Grace. The change will begin almost immediately." Grace complied. Freed from the gentle restraints of Grace's fingers, Dan hooped. Stopped. And began to shake and shimmy, growing slightly, but noticeably larger with each convulsion of her frog body. Upon reaching the size of a springer spaniel, Dan's body began the transmogrification process in earnest. Her skin continued to lighted, progressively shedding its' bluish tint and frog-like constitution. With each and every passing second, her forefeet became more finger-like than frog-like appendages as they, along with her hind feet, began to lose their webbing. The hint of nipple surmounted breast bulges appeared along Dan's undercarriage, followed shortly by the expansive growth of golden body hair on the rear and upper portion of Dan's frog to human transmogrifying head. Her forelegs became more armish. Her head less frogish. Then, more girlish. Grace, though she had undergone the very same transformation during the ordeal of her own transcendency from man to woman, was rendered flabbergasted. It amazed her to no end to see the former Dan Faber progressively change from frog into a ravishingly sexy, twenty-something appearing human female. With the change on the cusp of completion, Dan, in a Herculean effort on her part, clamored, in a very un-ladylike manner, shakily to those slightly higher arched and dainty reconstituted feet hers. Unaware that she was doing so at first, Dan reached up with both of the sublimely dexterous and enchantingly long nailed hands of hers and proceeded to crassly knead those sensually and amply proportioned new mammary glands of hers a time or two. Having done so for a moment or two, Dan, who was still operating within the surrealistic fog of her all to recent humanization, took her right hand and manfully thrust it down there in between those new supple, long and ever so lovely legs of hers; vulgarly and energetically groping the living shit out of her reconfigured loins in the process. Acting to prevent a self-inflicted, premature loss of her charge's newly imposed virginity, Grace, upon clearing her throat to garnish Dan's attention, intruded in upon the moment by asking, "Sam!" Her voice cracking like a whip, "Are you okay?" Much like the proverbial kid caught with his hand thrust deep inside a cookie jar, Dan was caught with her hand crassly crammed up inside that new little honey pot of hers. Turning carefully about, so as to face Grace, the rosy blush of red faced embarrassment flushed those new high arching cheeks of hers. Taking an extra moment or so to run a cursory self-evaluation, Dan replied with a voice that fairly gushed with sensual overtones, "Yeah... I think so..." "Good!", Grace cheerfully declared. "Then let me be the first to welcome you to your new life as a woman, Sam! Or, should I now say, Samantha?" "Samantha!", Dan sounded out the name in an effort to critique it. "Is that to be my new name?" "It is if you would like it to be.", Grace returned. "If not, I have a couple of others that you can chose from..." Just then, Granny rose from where she had remained seated on lily pond's retaining wall and by doing so, clearly co-opted the proceedings. Stepping passed Grace, Granny took Sam's hands in hers and proceeded on to conduct a thorough appraisal of her handiwork. Pronouncing her work done, Granny, suggesting that a shower, followed by a good hardy breakfast was in order, continued on to ask Samantha if she would like to avail herself of a full length mirror. Sam replied that while she would really like to get a view of her new self in a mirror, Granny's suggestion of a shower and food were what she really wanted at the moment. Placing Sam in Grace's care, Granny, informed the two stunning young ladies that she would first attend to separating the frogs so as to prevent any additional losses of her precious males. Then, once she had rounded them up and placed them back in their separate terrariums, she would head for her kitchen and there, see to fixing breakfast for the three of them. "So,", Grace began as she ran a steading arm about Sam's femininely constricted waist in order to lend her charge some much needed support, "What'ya think?" "About the frog business or about my now being a girl?", Samantha curtly replied with that sultry and sexy new voice of hers as the two of them began to gingerly make their way out of the hot and muggy confines of the frosted glass paneled enclosed geodesic bio-sphere that served as Granny's self-proclaimed home away from home. "Well, since it's fresh on your mind, why don't you start with the frog business. Then, after you have some time to come to terms with this new and, from my vantage point, pleasantly proportioned body of yours, you can give me your impressions on what it feels like to be a man trapped in a woman's body..." "Alright! I'll do just that... "While the change was - As you have said yourself, Grace. - rather disconcerting. All in all, being a frog wasn't all that bad. "I mean, while it took some getting use to at first and I have to admit that some of the stuff I ate was down right disgusting, it all sort of seemed natural at the time." "Yeah, having gone through the same rite of passage myself, I know exactly what you mean, Samantha. "Tell me! Could you feel it when you began to change into a female frog?" "No. Not really! "I mean, I was dealing with some really strange sensations as a frog. So, I didn't pick up on anything out of the ordinary. I can tell you one thing, Grace! Those other frogs intimidated the hell out of me!" "I know. They intimidated me as well, Sam. An that, in a nut shell, is why you and I are members of the opposite sex now!" * * * Passing through Granny's kitchen en route to the guest room's bathroom facilities, Grace picked up two high energy, fruit filled nutri-bars. Unwrapping the first of the two, Grace, using a business like tone that clearly conveyed the fact that noncompliance was not an option, instructed Sam to eat it. Sam did and was immediately handed another and told, in the same no nonsense fashion as before, to eat that one as well. Pausing briefly, Sam got an eyeful of her new curvacious physique and then, with Grace's continued help, stepped a tab bit awkwardly into the shower stall. As she busied herself with the heavenly task of ridding herself of the pond's slimy feeling and olfactory affronting residue, Grace stood by, directing her charge's efforts from just outside the shower enclosure's frosted glass partitions. "Holy shit!". Sam emphatically exclaimed; prompting a concerned Grace to ask, "Are you alright in there, Sam?" "Yes! Yes! I'm fine! It's just...", Sam , at a loss as to how best explain herself, let her statement dangle - unfinished. "It's just what, Sam?", Grace, perplexed, prompted. "It's this new body of mine, Grace! "I mean, while I always knew a woman's body was a whole hell of a lot more sensitive than a man's, I had no idea that it was this damn sensitive! "I mean, damn if I don't have erogenous zones all over the friggin' place now!" "Yeah,", Grace sheepishly agreed as her simmering sense of horniness finally got the best of her and she began to teasingly knead her own right breast with her left hand, while concurrently, employing the middle finger of her right hand, tantalizingly traced a path upward along the material shrouding the swath of her own vaginal lip-folds. "They are kind of nifty, aren't they?" A few minutes later, as Grace helped a noticeable tuckered out Sam towel off, Granny put in a brief appearance in which she chided the two of them to stop lollygagging and hurry up; informing the two of them as she did so, them that their breakfast was awaiting them on the table. Shortly thereafter, dressed in a nondescript grey sweatsuit that Grace had laid out for her, Sam dug into a more than generous pile of pancakes that Granny had prepared for her. As she did so, Grace, who was steadily working on polishing off a plate of pancakes of her own, casually went over her and Sam's itinerary for the next several days. After breakfast, acting on Granny's explicit instructions, Grace escorted her charge to one of the spacious A-frame's guest bedrooms, where upon Sam doffed the sweatsuit and crawled into bed for some much needed recuperative sleep. That evening, after a splendid steak dinner, Grace, saying that she was sorry that she was putting Sam on the spot like she was, informed the former Marine Corps sniper that she really needed to pick a new name for herself, so that Grace, in her turn, could do whatever she needed to do to start the ball rolling on establishing Sam in her new identity. After some hemming and hawing and a few bouts of rampant indecision, Sam went with the name Samantha Ann Walthers. Saying that the name suited Sam to a tee, Grace scooted her charge off to bed and then, using a computer terminal that was installed by some of NSA's senior techno-geeks, made the appropriate entries that would complete the transaction of making Ms. Samantha Ann Walthers a viable person, complete with a verifiable history that would stand up even under the closest scrutiny that could be brought to bear upon it. Though it had taken one hell of a lot of cajoling on her part, Grace's tenacity won out. Sam, though it rankled the living shit out of her, after a lot of who-struck-john and some bombastic counter proposals, gave up the ghost and finally donned the slinky nylon-lycra stirrup leggins and satin sleep shirt that Grace had dogmatically demanded she put on upon waking up the next morning. Breakfast followed and then Grace, beginning with a broad brush overview, got down to the business of acquainting Sam with the highlights of the bogus life that Grace had ingeniously and laboriously created for the new Ms. Walthers. Having done that, school began in earnest for Samantha, as Grace, in a very no nonsense fashion of a strict and demanding task master, began to quiz her on the material she had just imparted. After a mid-morning break for coffee and one of Granny's fresh baked apple turnovers, Grace, aware that Sam needed time to assimilate all they had gone over that morning before proceeding on to impart anymore historical data, opted to relocate to Sam's bedroom. There, with Sam reluctantly seated at the rustically crafted vanity, Grace, knowing fully well that the area she was about to enter into would severely assault Sam's male ego, selected a bottle pale pink nail gloss and proceeded to talk Sam through the feminine art form of applying nail polish to those long and deliciously tapered new nails of hers. Makeup and lipstick followed and, though there was room for a considerable amount of improvement, Grace offered her pupil a compliment; saying as she did so, that Sam had faired a whole hell of a lot better in her first attempts then Grace had in hers. After a break for lunch with Granny, Grace, having made mention of the how extraordinary a day it was, suggested that she and Sam take full advantage of it by spending a good bit of the afternoon catching some rays out on the deck and there by, get a early jump on acquiring their summer tans. Shocking the shit out of Grace, Sam passed over the spiffy one piece Speedo styled tanksuit that Grace had provided her with and opted instead for the skimpier of the two lycra-spandex bikinis she found in one of her dresser drawers; selecting the thong cut bottom over the slightly more modestly tailored one. "My, my! Looking good, girl!", Grace, dressed in a bikini that left little to the imagination herself, offered a cheery comment. "So, am I to take it that you're staring to get into this girl-shit?" "No...", Sam began thoughtfully. "But you know what they say, Grace! You know! As in: if you've got it! Flaunt it!" "And since there's no getting around the fact that you got it in spades now Sam, you just figured you'd take full advantage of the situation! Right?" "Yeah...", Sam returned shyly. "I guess so..." A minute or so after that, having informed Granny that if she should need the pair of them for any reason, they would be out on the deck either sunning themselves or luxuriating in the soothing waters of the hot tube, Grace handed her charge a plastic bottle of suntan lotion and continued on to ask if Sam would be kind enough to apply an ample amount of its' contents to both her back and legs; saying that she would be more than happy to return the favor. Sam did as requested, thoroughly relishing the intimacy of the contact and unequivocally confirming the fact that as far as that mind of hers was concerned, it was still as manly as it ever was. 'Damn!', Sam internally fumed as she deftly worked the lotion into Grace's back. 'Wouldn't you just know it! Here I am! Alone with the woman I'm in friggin' love-lust with and I can't do a damn that about it! "I mean... I've always said that life' ain't fair! But, damn if this sorry situation doesn't confirm it!' Oddly enough, though Sam hadn't the slightest inking that such was the case, Grace, when it became her turn to return the favor of applying the sun screen, found herself dealing with like sentiments. Grace, a self-proclaimed narcissist since the first day of her own sexual reassignment, had, on numerous occasions, toyed with the notion of engaging in a lesbian fling just to see if she could eventually manage a monogamous relationship with another woman. To that end, she had even tried cruising a few of the clubs in and around the District of Columbia that were known to cater to such clientele every now and again. Trouble was, try as she might to get beyond her own long held aversions to women of the lesbian persuasion, though she knew that she definitely classified as one herself, Grace was carrying around far to much baggage from her life as a red blooded American male to get up the nerve to take the plunge and there by,