Altered Fates: Freefalling Home free porn video

Freefalling Home By Elliot Reid I smoothed my skirt and looked nervously at Natalie. "Do I look, uh, okay?" "You look fine, Jo. Stop worrying, they won't bite your head off." Natalie looked relaxed, in a navy skirt and simple jacket over a soft black sweater, her glasses hanging from a chain; very conservative. She was an attractive forty-something with sharp cheekbones, a strong nose and smiling eyes, framed by a cascade of wavy, dark hair. I'd already come to trust her wisdom. "This may surprise you but they're here to help," she said, reassuringly. "They give the benefit of the doubt to people who come forward voluntarily." "Thanks, Natalie. Look, I need to go powder my nose," I said, excusing myself from the reception area. This was my second trip to the ladies, down the corridor and into its harsh-lit coolness. I didn't need to go, but I felt sick to my stomach. Standing at the washbasin I looked in the mirror and saw 5'3" of curvy redhead, with wide-spaced eyes, a straight nose and a generous mouth. It was a new look for me; I'd changed a lot recently. However, my face looked pinched, my pale skin more ashen than normal - I didn't know if it was the anxiety or the fluorescent lighting. Like Natalie I was also dressed soberly, in a skirted suit and blouse. Chrissie had bought it for me and it was a nice cut. My name is Jo Michelle Doyle, formerly Joe Michael Doyle. An age ago it seemed I'd been a man, until a small piece of magic - a real hocus pocus enchantment - came into my life and transformed me forever. I'd watched my flesh flow like quicksilver, altering my appearance and my sex. I had acquired science powers - new abilities that duplicated those of the heroine named Freefall. I could now float and fly unsupported, I could manipulate gravity and I had enough zap to flatten a city block. These powers made me a very dangerous woman, which was why the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms had invited me to this interview. I was here on Chrissie's dollar. Christine was my best friend and, right now, my guardian angel. I'd appeared on her doorstep, a changed person, and she'd taken me in and looked after me like a big sister. I'd hugged her and cried on her shoulder out of fear for the future. I was afraid to register my powers with the BATF and had pleaded with her to help me try and fake a new identity as a woman. Chrissie, who was slim and long-limbed with lush black shoulder-length hair, had been very patient with me. "Can I give you some advice, girl? I was prepared to help with the ID, but this whole deal with the superpowers changes everything. If you don't register your science powers you could be in enormous trouble." Chrissie leaned closer, "Look, I have this great attorney, Natalie Feinstein, you'll love her; she's a peach. Lawyers have this whole client privilege thing going; you can tell her anything and she'll keep her lips zippered. Best thing of all, she'll help you; far better than I can. Maybe there's a way of getting around this legally." "Look Chrissie, I'm not sure about this. I mean, they'll want fingerprints, won't they? I've got Freefall's fingerprints! There'll be questions." Chrissie reached over and put a comforting hand on my knee. "Look, sweetheart," she said, "of course there'll be awkward questions and it's going to be tough. But if you don't do this there's the chance they'll catch you and jail you and then its ten years wearing blue denim under a power drainer. You know I'm right." Sure I knew; I couldn't escape her logic. It's just that I was plumb scared out of my wits. Thank God for Chrissie. She always knows best. * * * Natalie Feinstein had been everything Chrissie had said she was: smart, sympathetic but strong. I almost got off on the wrong foot, trying to gloss over my origins with some fairy tale in which I woke up one day as a science heroine. She stopped me part way through and began, with great patience, to explain how the world worked. "Jo," she sighed, taking her reading glasses off and leaning back in her chair, "I have had many clients sit where you are and they try the same thing you are doing - to conceal the truth. A few of them do it because they are in denial. But mostly they think if they can fool me they can fool a judge or a jury. But in every case they only fool themselves. "I am not your enemy, Jo." She looked directly at me, eyes impassive. "Nor am I a judge, nor jury, nor executioner. I am here at your friend Miss Palmer's considerable expense to try and help you. For me to help you must be completely candid. There is no other way. Unless I have all the facts at my fingertips I cannot guarantee success. This is a trust thing, and ultimately if you don't trust me I shall not be able to represent you well. Are we clear on this?" Shamefaced, I slowly began to tell her the truth. I told her about how a magic artifact, the Medallion of Zulo, had come into my possession, of how I had used it to change my physical form. Of how I'd used an item of Freefall's with the artifact to gain her powers. Unlikely as that sounded, it was pretty much the whole truth. So Natalie took me on. "The identity stuff is the easiest, Jo," she told me. "That's a straightforward case of changing your name and official records by state court order as if you'd had a sex-change operation. I did something similar for Christine after her surgery. You'll keep your nursing registration and your paramedical ticket from your last job. You should even be able to retain your veteran's benefits from the Coastguard, though you may also still qualify for the reserves." "Yay for our side." Except for the reserves part. They could still call me up? Ick. "Yay for us," agreed Natalie "Though I warn you there is one wrinkle, which is that you cannot marry a man." "Excuse me? I don't understand?" "State law currently doesn't permit a man who had a sex reassignment to marry another man," she said, levelly. "So I could marry a woman, but not a man, right?" "Legally, yes. If you don't like that that you're going to have to get the law changed, or at least challenged at Supreme Court level. But that's not your real problem right now. Your predicament is this: you have science powers. If what you tell me is true you're a Class Five telekinetic, which means you are officially a weapon of mass destruction." "That doesn't sound good, put like that." "It doesn't, does it? We need to get you registered - or at least in the system as fast as possible. The BATF are notoriously humorless about unregistered powers. They take a dim view." Natalie put back on her glasses. "Leave this to me and I'll fix up a preliminary interview." * * * I walked back to reception and barely had time to sit before we were called into the interview room. The decor was neutral and there was a table with a few chairs tucked under. A video camera stood sentry on a tripod by a wall, aimed at the table. The lighting was soft, the window blinds were shut and the room was incredibly still and quiet. Natalie pulled out a chair and opened her briefcase to extract a file. She set down a legal notepad and a pen next to it. "Sit down, Jo," she said, dragging out the chair next to her. "The agent will be here shortly." Nervously, I walked around and sat, brushing my skirt beneath my legs as I did so. I realized I could make out Natalie's scent. She smelled lovely. Then the door opened and an agent walked in with a file under his arm. We both stood up. The agent was fiftyish and overweight, with a bull neck and a salt-and- pepper buzz cut that screamed 'cop'. But he had a spry energy about him and his small eyes were alive and friendly in his doughy face. He was in a jacket and tie and his plastic ID dangled from a pocket. When he talked he was precise and measured with no contractions. There wasn't a word that hadn't been carefully considered, as if he were talking for the legal record. He dropped his file to the table and reached out to shake our hands. "Mrs. Feinstein, Miss Doyle, I am Agent Haspart of the Bureau of Alcohol, Firearms and Tobacco. I will be your case officer." From a jacket pocket he produced business cards which he handed to each of us, then invited us to sit. "Ladies, this interview will be recorded on video," he gestured at the camera. "I must also," he addressed me, "request that Miss Doyle refrain from manifesting her science powers. ANY use of powers will be regarded as an assault. Manifestation of unregistered powers in front of an officer of the Bureau is a criminal act that carries a tariff of up to fifteen years imprisonment. This room is equipped with power draining devices which are currently inactive but will be switched on if any unauthorized use of powers is detected." He beamed at my lawyer, "Mrs. Feinstein, do you and your client understand?" I nodded. Natalie said: "Thank you, we do." "Very well, then", said the agent, gingerly easing his bulk into his chair, "let us begin. This interview is to acquaint you both with the registration process and begin the preliminary steps. There will be an opportunity for you to ask questions at the end." So shut up and listen, I thought. Haspart began to get into his stride. "Miss Doyle, the BATF is responsible for the registration of meta-humans with science powers, in accordance with Federal law and Department of Justice guidelines. The law exists essentially for two reasons:" he started counting on his fingers, "first that the liberty, privacy and rights of the powered individual are preserved; second..." he looked at me, "that the community is protected from potential harm." Haspart put his fingers flat on the table and immediately addressed my biggest fear. "Miss Doyle, many new registrants are anxious that the government might wish to coerce them, control them or imprison them because of their powers. This is far from the truth; we have no interest in intruding into your private life or co-opting your abilities. However, we have a responsibility to the wider community to ensure you do not inadvertently cause harm to others. The registration process is analogous to applying for a gun permit and allows us to be sure that individuals will use their powers responsibly and stay within the law." I wanted to interrupt and ask something, but the agent was on a roll. "The result of this process will be a powers license. On applying you will be issued a restricted license, which means you are you are free to go about your business but are not permitted to use your powers at all, for ANY purpose, including saving your own life." He paused to look closely at me as if I might protest. "If your application is successful an ordinary license is issued which permits reasonable use of powers within guidelines laid by statute. Until you are fully licensed I must ask you not to use your powers under any circumstances. Failure to comply is a federal offence carrying penalties up to ten years' imprisonment. Mrs. Feinstein, do you and your client understand?" Natalie looked over at me. "Yes we do, Agent." "Thank you, Mrs. Feinstein." And so it continued in this vein, with Agent Haspart describing the hoops I'd have to jump through to get my license. He concluded with a gentle warning: "Miss Doyle, we will be requesting biometric data, including photographs, fingerprints, retinal scans and a DNA sample. We shall also ask for depositions regarding your background and origin story. I recommend full disclosure. Some individuals in the past have been concerned that they will give away commercial or personal secrets and have been less than forthcoming. You have a right not to provide information; however, failure to provide it may jeopardize your registration. You are also reminded that providing false information on your application is a federal offence." Now I got to ask some questions. My mouth was still dry. "Agent Haspart, I'd like to use my powers for the public good, maybe in a life-saving or rescue role. How do I go about this?" Haspart steepled his fingers and tilted his head slightly. "Miss Doyle, there are many private and public agencies willing to hire people with unique talents and though we are not an employment bureau I will certainly give you what advice I can. However, the Bureau feels it proper that powered citizens engaging in public service join a reputable organization, receive training and work within their operating procedures." Haspart took a deep breath as if he were about to say something unpleasant. "Well intentioned though you may be, without instruction and regulation you may cause more harm than good. Unless you are a member of an emergency service you should not try to intervene with your powers in a crisis. We've seen this happen before and it rarely works out. We ask that you leave these jobs to the professionals." "So how does this work for science heroes like Cobalt and Freefall?" I asked. "Aren't they freelances?" Haspart shifted and breathed heavily before replying. "It is difficult to talk about specific cases, Miss Doyle; many of the details are confidential. However, it is common for powered citizens to be part-time members of first response organizations, like volunteer firefighters or EMS. They might be deputized into the police, or work on a contract basis for the Federal bureaus. They can receive proper training and support within those agencies. The Apollo Foundation and Perseus Institute both, for example, employ meta-humans as reserve members of multiple disaster and rescue agencies, on call where required. I hope that answers your question." Well kinda, but my head was still spinning. * * * That night, as I kicked back in Chrissie's spacious apartment, I told her that the whole process at the BATF seemed onerous and bureaucratic. "It's like the opposite of the comic books, where the Super Pals sit in their Satellite of Justice and fly down to save the world. If a science hero wants to do something around here they become working schmos within some big agency." "But isn't that the way it works, girlfriend?" said Chrissie, curled up in her big leather chair, drinking a very large Martini. "I mean take your firefighter: he's a real-life hero yet he's part of a huge department with resources and backup and support. You had the same thing when you were a first response paramedic. Why is it any different now you look like a swimsuit model and can fly?" I didn't answer; Chrissie was right again. I was dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting SpongeBob T-shirt, lying back on the couch, one arm draped down to the polished wooden floor. Chrissie's apartment was an airy loft space in a tasteful state of disarray. Art and fashion magazines littered every surface, along with sketchbooks and other signs of her profession as a graphic designer. "It's just not what I expected," I whined. "I suppose I'd hoped that with powers people would give me more latitude. Agent Haspart's right, as a private citizen I'm a loose cannon. I need to find something to belong to, to direct my energies." "Look, Jo, I talked to Natalie. She seemed to think that once you were licensed you'd have people lining up, ready to offer you serious money. Hell, now your application is in with the Bureau I bet there are headhunters trying to sniff you out, ready to degrade themselves for your signature. Whatever you do, don't agree to anything. In fact, refer them all to Natalie. She's your representative until I say otherwise." "Since when did you become the boss of me?" I pouted. "I'm not, baby. But I'm your Aunt Chris and you know I'm right." Chrissie was not an aunt or any kind of blood relation, but she'd been my friend for a long time. I'd first met her as a pre-op transsexual and had stayed close through her surgery and subsequent life as a woman. She was one of the more feminine transsexuals I'd known, but her square jaw line and hands still gave away her origins. In return for her support I'd given Chrissie the Medallion of Zulo. She'd told me she wanted to use it to become 'all woman'. "So when are you using the medallion, then?" I asked her, for the fiftieth time. "I still want to know what body you'll end up in." This had been a source of agitated conversation for days now. The Medallion's frankly bizarre power was to be able to transform people by touching clothes to it. Whoever had last worn that garment was the person whose physical form you changed into. I'd used Freefall's hero costume - a set of leather skintights - to grant myself her body and powers, and a surgical mask to acquire the face of a pretty work colleague. I joked with Chrissie about stealing some hot cheerleader's outfit or trying to boost a fashion model's clothing but she didn't appear to be making any kind of decision, and was acting vague and mysterious. To be honest, Chrissie had been a bit subdued since she'd dumped Macon for being a little too fond of blow. Her drug of preference was a mix of vodka and energy drinks that kept her partying long after I'd gotten my coat and staggered out of the club. Chrissie was remarkably puritanical about anything else and I'd had to hide as she kicked her French boyfriend's butt seven times around the apartment for bringing his stash back with him. Since then I'd been cautious of pressing her too hard. "Don't worry about the medallion, Jo" she told me, "something will happen soon." * * * Eventually I hauled myself off to the spare room where I was sleeping and lay in the dark, thinking of Karen. I let my hands wander over my body and imagined she was doing the exploration. Karen Park was in my thoughts a lot these days. I'd met her a few weeks back at the Salsa Club. Chrissie had kept bugging me to go. "You should come salsa with me on Wednesdays! It's, like, the sexiest dance and there are some hot partners there!" Eventually I lost the will to live and gave in. I never regretted it. The salsa WAS a sexy dance, though it took me a lot longer to master than the other pupils in my beginner's class. My hip motions looked grotesque for a while until I realized that the Cuban wiggle of my tight, peach fanny would only come from good legwork. And then there were the holds to learn and the spins and dips. Chrissie was right about the partners. They came in all shapes and sizes, but there were some real good-looking guys and several of them hit on me, which was flattering. The close dancing was great at breaking down inhibitions. We changed partners several times, but the women outnumbered the men in the group and so on one change I found myself holding and looking straight into the eyes of this stunning, statuesque Korean girl and for a moment I was lost. I am, technically, bisexual. Since my metamorphosis I'd had a brief, fun fling with a guy, a college student, who had helped me explore this new, sensual body of mine. But I still found myself checking out women, and after our little salsa whirl I found myself staring at Karen some more. She was maybe four or five inches taller than me, beautifully proportioned and with a graceful carriage; she was way ahead of me in the dancing. She had a lovely heart-shaped Asian face, unblemished except for a small cheek mole, and deep, dark eyes like commas. Her long hair was pulled back and plaited and reached to the small of her back. I was enchanted. Other guys were hitting on her and I realized I might be as well. After that I was at the club two or three nights a week to dance, to make friends and to talk to Karen as much as I could. She was sociable and we were soon girl-friendly, but I found her difficult to read. I feared she was straight rather than gay or bi. She never talked about relationships and seemed to have a frantic job as a realtor. So when I eventually asked her to go out it was as a friend to do something social and she was like, "Okay, let's go to the park on Sunday with my sister." That was two days from now and here I was, lying alone in bed with the covers over me, thinking that I could have had any man in that Salsa club with me right now, and yet I was fantasizing about the gorgeous, unattainable straight girl. Touching myself was still one of the great pleasures of this body. My transition to womanhood had been smoothed by residual memories from the bodies I'd adopted - faint echoes of the original owners' personalities. There was Freefall, the bombshell whose real name was Anna, and Suze, the cute young surgeon whose face I'd borrowed. These memories and attitudes had never threatened to overwhelm me - I was still solidly Jo Doyle at my core - but they'd been a helping hand when I'd needed it. I'd had this body over a month now and the old Anna and Suze parts of me were so integrated that it was hard to tell where I began and they ended. However, both I and my Suze-self were still new enough to this shape to be thrilled by it. Suze had also been petite like Anna, but was built more like a gymnast than Anna's curvy glamour model. My figure had been a source of surprise to Chrissie when I'd first appeared at her apartment and she'd checked my new body out, demanding I strip to my underwear in front of her. "You know, babe, your body is so soft and supple. I always imagined Freefall looked more buff and toned under those skintights? More ripped?" I knew Chrissie spent hours each week at the gym, though all it seemed to do was make her stringier. So I now had this lithe frame and the Suze part of me was comparing it with memories of her old athletic hardbody, with its sculpted muscle and tiny, firm breasts. Indeed, having breasts this large captivated Suze and both of us couldn't get enough of looking at them; these yielding, heavy teardrops with the large, sensitive nipples. I played with them a while, my slim fingers ringing the aureoles and gently teasing at the hardening tips. Eventually a pressure built towards my belly and I knew I was becoming moist. I imagined Karen's hand drifting down between my legs, stroking my smooth thighs, and then, in an ecstatic moment, dipping a finger into the silk wetness of my vagina, becoming slippy to touch. It drifted up to my clitoris. In the fantasy she was working the little button of nerves gently and expertly, sending buzzes of pleasure back up my body. Then she slipped her fingers inside me and quickly found out the other sensitive spots, which shot small bursts of electricity up my spine. Under her loving ministrations the pressure grew until I came, and I felt intense sensation flooding me, making me gasp. And then I came back to my senses and knew that I was alone. I felt empty. * * * Sunday didn't come too soon. I waited for Karen in Flushing Meadows park, beneath the meshed steel globe of the Unisphere, dressed in my favorite yellow smock and a flop hat. It was a fine July day and there were plenty of people about; lots of couples smooching and holding hands. I was jealous of them and wished I was kissing Karen. I was so busy watching the people I didn't notice her walk up next to me. "Hey Jo," she said, giving me a thousand Watt smile as I turned to face her. She was wearing a tight tank top and shorts that really flattered her. "Hey Karen, great to see you," I gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She felt soft and smelled fragrant. "Jo, here's my sister Ellie," and she waved to the figure next to her. I had to look down. Ellie couldn't have been more than a year or two younger and had the same knockout pretty face as her sister, but where Karen's face seemed still and sculpted, Ellie's was always mobile and smiling. Her hair was shorter, more shoulder-length. The big difference between the two was below the neck. Ellie was in a wheelchair. We strolled through the park, the chair whirring happily, Ellie a bundle of energy. Where Karen was poised and cool, Ellie was merry, smart and funny. She was good company; she encouraged irreverence. "So, steel- wheels, why are you in the electric chair?" I asked her. "Hey K., who is this girlie?" called Ellie to her sister. "Most folks are too embarrassed to ask directly." "I'm not most folks," I said. "Damn, I was going to play the poor little cripple girl and wring sympathy and ice cream out of you," laughed Ellie, giving me her impression of puppy dog pleading. "Won't work on me, I'm immune," I said. "I used to be a nurse. They surgically remove all sympathy after the first month." "Hey, you disrespecting me, girl?" "Careful, or I'll tamper with your brakes." "Hey Karen, I like this one," said Ellie. "Can we keep her? Huh, can we?" She nudged her controls to face me better. "The answer to your question is multiple sclerosis." "Harsh realm. Paresis?" "Yeah, paraparesis. Spinal lesions. It got real bad about six years ago. I went through a phase of remission but now there's secondary progression." "I sorry, Ellie, that's rough." It was. She was young and it was getting worse. "How bad is the paralysis?" "Oh, almost total. Physical therapy has kept a tiny amount of motion - I can twitch my toes. I've also lost a lot of sensation down there." "Eww... do we have to talk about this?" said Karen, making a face. "So is Karen your primary carer?" "Big Sis?" Ellie looked back at her sister. "No, I think she's had enough of looking after me. She and the family helped me get set up in my current place. I now live on my own." "I found her a great ground floor apartment," said Karen. "It cost a fortune to make accessible but we found the cash." "You'll have to come visit," added Ellie, brightly. We spent a happy afternoon heading to the south of the park, ending up by Meadow Lake, watching the skaters on the track. "You know, K? I should've brought my lightweight chair here. I could show those skate punks a few spin tricks." Ellie was clicking her fingers and doing a little upper body dance. "Go girl... go, go... go girl!" She looked over at me. "I have this sports chair, Jo, a manual. Titanium, adjustable center of gravity, a real athlete's machine... DAMN, I'm hot in that thing!" We talked for a while and then Ellie started scoring the butts of passers' by for firmness and shape, though the skateboarders in their baggy pants only gave rise to wild speculation. I noticed Karen was only joining in on the boys and with a sinking heart I realized she was straight. It was getting on for evening as we started to leave the park, with a big plan to find this Italian restaurant that Ellie knew had ramp access. Then Karen suddenly put her hand to her head. "Oh, I'm sorry, like really sorry. I, uh, just remembered I had an appointment at eight to show this place to some clients. I'm going to have to blow off the meal. Look Jo, you and Ellie go on and have a good time. My job is, like, 24/7 sometimes. You know how it is." And that was that, with Karen breezing off toward the subway while Ellie started to wheel out towards the restaurant. "You coming?" Ellie said. "Only if I can get a ride on that thing." * * * The restaurant was a good pick, with this cute, attentive guy waiting on us and an excellent cellar. Ellie insisted on a good Barbaresco, in spite of the price. I had a plate of agnolotti, which I was careful only to eat half of. Though my body naturally had a smaller appetite I still found it hard to throw off my guy habits of finishing everything in sight. A couple of weeks ago I'd tried on Freefall's skintights again and had noticed how much tighter they felt. Since then I'd been disciplined with food, while the salsa dancing had proven a good workout to trim off the excess. Ellie was chatty and entertaining throughout, and flirted good-naturedly with the young, flop-haired waiter. Eventually I got around to asking her; "what was that with Karen all about? Her leaving like that?" "Sorry?" said Ellie, looking faux innocent. "Was she really seeing a client?" I asked, sipping at my drink. "You know something, I really don't know," said Ellie. "Since I left home she's had more time to do her own thing, though it's often work. She clocks in some stupid hours and she's really stressed all the time. For all I know it could have been a boyfriend." "So why do I feel I've been set up?" "Because you have, Jo," Ellie beamed me her own thousand Watt smile, "it's all part of our evil plan. Haven't you figured it out yet?" "I knew there was evil deep inside you." "Sho' 'nuff, girly. Didn't you figure that Karen is my pimp mommy?" I found myself smiling back. Ellie was infectious. "So, hoe. Tell me how this works, then? I want to know what vice trap I've fallen into." "Oh, there's not much to it," Ellie sighed, tilting her head. "You know Karen, she can cause traffic accidents just sashaying her lil' tushie down the sidewalks. She gets a lot of attention, the lucky bitch. And sometimes, just sometimes, she has someone hit on her that she's not interested in but she thinks: 'let's introduce them to little sis and see what happens'." "So here we are." "And so say all of us." Ellie put her wine glass down and looked at me more earnestly. "Look, Jo, I hope you're not mad at us. But Karen... she's not interested in women. I'm the family sapphist. In fact I'm just plain weird. I'm Asian, bisexual and a gimp so I beat a draw and a flush in life's great poker game. "Karen knew you were hitting on her in a big way at the dance class and she's flattered, but it was never going to happen. But she saw someone who was kind and foxy as hell and maybe special and she thought that something might happen with you and me. Please don't blame her. She's got a big heart and she looks out for me." Thanks to the wine I was feeling mellow inside and started to look at Ellie differently. She was just this fun kid in a wheelchair up to now; what else was she? I studied her fine-chiseled oval face, with the dark eyes and soft lips, and I wondered. "I hadn't considered, Ellie. I really hadn't," I said. "It's sudden." "And always was heard a discouraging word..." Ellie, elbow on table, leaned her head on one hand. "'It's Sudden' is usually powerful code for the brush off." "Whoa, Tiger!" I replied. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. It can also mean that I'm sitting here figuring my options. And one of those options is that I wheel you home and screw your crazy brains out." "That would be nice," chirped Ellie, looking wide-eyed and beautiful. "In fact, that's what I want to do right now," I said. "Hey, now I'M finding this a bit sudden. Did you really mean that stuff?" "Yes, why not? I'll take a chance. What's the coffee like at your place?" "One thing: this is not going to be a sympathy fuck, is it? I'm not doing with no symp..." She suddenly broke down laughing. "Who am I kidding? Like I can pick and choose how and when I get laid." She turned around to signal the waiter: "Check please, Antonio!" * * * Ellie's apartment was fully adapted for life as a paraplegic. There were low surfaces everywhere and bars to help her in and out of chairs. It was also a mess. "I have this home help who comes twice a week to clean up," Ellie told me. "I'm slowly driving her mental. Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" The lounge made do as an art studio and there were half-finished oil canvasses stacked along the walls. White walls and the exposed wood flooring were now splattered with dried paint. I stood in front of a low easel, transfixed by the nude painting in front of me. "That's Karen, isn't it?' I said. "Yup. She posed for me." It was a lovely canvas. Ellie had really scraped the paint on thick and there was something primitive and powerful about it, like the Lucian Freud nudes I'd seen at the Guggenheim. But it still captured Karen's poise and stillness. "Jo, would you sit for me too?" "Uh, sure. Never done anything like that before, though." "Don't worry. I usually take Polaroids and work from that." "You're so talented. I wish I could paint." I looked down and could see Ellie's open face looking up at me. "Jo," she said, "please kiss me." I bent over and our mouths locked. Our tongues began to dart in and out, exploring, tip-touching each other. Ellie tasted strange; a melange of the Barbaresco we'd drunk and something sweet and musky. Then she burped in my mouth and we both fell back, laughing, guts aching. I had to wipe back tears as Ellie desperately tried to apologize, almost unable to speak with the giggles. By the time we reached the bedroom we'd calmed down. Ellie refused my help, batting my hands away as she eased herself from her chair onto the bed. I climbed on and lay beside her. Here, in this position, we were equals. We embraced and briefly kissed again, tongue to tongue, tasting each other. Then we broke and began to disrobe. I helped Ellie to take off her tight spaghetti-strap tank top, then I unbuttoned her skirt and pulled down her hose. "Your legs are real smooth," I said, admiringly. "Thanks," said Ellie, mischievously. "One benefit of paralysis is that you don't feel a wax job. My bitch-evil physical therapist has helped keep them in good shape." She was right. They looked painfully skinny, but not completely wasted. Ellie was now lying in her bra and panties and I could assess her body, almost clinically. It was looking good, considering she'd been chair bound so long. Her legs were thin but weren't critically short of muscle. I couldn't see any sign of lesions or sores, so someone was keeping her disciplined and active. She'd put a little weight on around the middle but it wasn't entirely unsexy. Her upper body was much better, with lightly-defined biceps. She lay back on one arm to watch me strip for her. I decided to make it a show, carefully slipping out my shorts, then pulling my summer smock over my head, leaving only a red bra and matching lace panties. I did a couple of poses for her, shaking my booty before I climbed back on the bed. Ellie was mouthing 'Wow' at me as I lay down and snuggled over towards her. "Ooh, it's an early Christmas present for Eleanor," she grinned at me. "Have you been naughty, or nice?" I said, kissing her hard, eyes closed. It was tongues again, darting in and out, first mine in hers then hers in mine, wrestling for superiority. I think I lost, and suddenly realized that in whatever relationship we had, I was the femme. A hand was clasping one of my breasts, trying to work at the nipple through the lace. Then it calmly reached behind my brassiere and I felt the clasps at the back expertly undone, springing it loose on my chest. Ellie reached beneath the underwiring and hauled it up and out of the way, freeing my bosom. The hand touched my breast again and gently squeezed and fondled, then a finger sought out the nipple, which it began to caress and make hard. This was my first time girl-on-girl, and what was so weird was that it was moving much faster than I was used to. Ellie was taking command, which was disconcerting. My last lover, Gary, had seemed happy to let me be the older woman and lead, but this livewire cripple was beginning to boss me and I wasn't used to it. Part of me wanted to resist. Ellie must have felt me tense or something because she stopped a moment, backed off and searched my face. Her dark, Asian eyes looked slightly anxious. "Are you okay, Jo?" "Uh, I'm fine, I think, Ellie. No, really." I had to gather my thoughts. "Look, this is just happening at a rate I'm not used to. I'm sort of more used to being in charge and..." "Don't worry, darling, I'm sorry," Ellie touched my face. "I was getting excited. That's the trouble with sex, it can be a power game. I sometimes forget." She took her hand away and lay back. "Look, we'll go at your speed. You make the rules; you have control, okay?" I was stunned. This was something I hadn't experienced; being the less dominant partner. But here was this strong, vibrant woman whose philosophy seemed to be to grab life in both hands and she was dominating me. Even ceding control to me she remained in command. I decided I'd play along and see where this arrangement took us. I sat up and shucked off my undone bra. Then I slid off my panties. I lay nude next to the supine Ellie, mesmerized by her smiling face as she watched me, realizing I didn't have a clue what she was thinking. Hesitantly, I reached out to her breasts and touched her silk bra. Unlike Karen's magnificent bosom, Ellie's was very small, like a teenage girl's. It looked like her left breast was fractionally larger than the right. Gently, I undid her brassiere and pushed it up out of the way. There were two large, dark nipples and I went down on one and kissed it and began to flick at it with my tongue, feeling it stand to attention. It was quite a long nipple and I started to suck at it with my lips. I heard Ellie exhale. She'd got the hint. I wanted this slow and gentle. Her hand came up and started to trace around my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them then delicately teasing the nipples hard. One hand of mine stroked Ellie's body, gliding up and down her side. I gave up sucking her nipples and kissed her mouth again, and our tongues met. This time Ellie was more submissive and allowed me to explore her mouth and her sweet musky taste. Her spare hand was now sweeping down the flat swell of my belly, briefly stopping to explore my long navel with a finger. Then it descended to feel the softness of my pubic hair, before it was between my legs. I moaned slightly and opened my legs so her hand could stroke my thighs, and it caressed the sensitive smoothness there. Then she was running a finger up and down my labia, and I shuddered as she lightly ran it over my clitoris. Suddenly she had one and two fingers inside me, finding the wetness there, and she was starting to touch my clit, making me shudder some more, involuntarily. The power balance between us tipped again. I could not resist. Now I was lying back on the bed and Ellie, legs dragged useless behind her, had half clambered onto me. Now she was licking at my breasts, while expert fingers down below explored me. Very soon she'd found some spots inside that were making me buzz and I couldn't believe what she was doing to me. I felt like I was starting to melt into the bed, and I could hear Ellie rising from my bosom to whisper to me: "God, you're so beautiful, Jo. I love your breasts and your skin and warmth beneath me and your adorable eyes..." She kept up this litany, describing my body and I felt seduced and wanted. I'd succumbed; Ellie was now in total control. She had two fingers inside of me now and I felt her other hand reaching up to stroke my brow as if to calm and reassure me. And she began to recite something new: "Trust me, Jo; please trust me. Do you want me, Jo? Do you want me to make you come?" I found myself gasping "Yes. Please, yes!" Then I felt her withdraw her slender fingers from me, then slip back in four all bunched together in a wedge, plunging into the wetness, filling my vagina. I felt opened up and exposed. For a moment I was afraid, but I could feel Ellie's palm stroke my brow and her saying: "It's fine, Jo. I won't hurt you. You're so beautiful. I couldn't hurt you. Shush, now, you're safe with me." And I'd clasped her shoulder and was gripping hard because her fingers penetrated me to the knuckle and beyond, my clitoris and vagina seemed to be broadcasting at maximum intensity and all I could feel was my body giving in totally. Utter submission to Ellie. And that helplessness just turned me on more. Dangerous thoughts tempted and taunted me. I knew I had the power to annihilate the building. It would take so little effort for me to unleash it, smash this room and structure into stone shards, and yet I was defenseless and weak at the hands of this cripple girl. I heard myself whimpering: "Please, Ellie, pleeease!" to her. I felt I was on a precipice. Then I heard Ellie say something to me I couldn't hear, because I was orgasming and shuddering and gasping for air, and I had tears in my eyes and was crying, emotions confused and fucked up and not understanding why I felt so utterly overwhelmed. And the crying went on for a while and Ellie just curled up beside me and held me tight in her arms, her intimate whispers saying: "You're safe with me, Jo. I'm holding you. I won't let you go. Shush now, my lover, you're safe," over and over again. It took a while to stop crying. The emotional release was so total it drained me. And for a long time afterward all I could remember was looking into Ellie's sweet, concerned face and letting it fill my world. Eventually I mumbled something about wanting to pleasure her; give her something back. So she helped coach me through an unfamiliar ritual. The MS had left her dry and difficult to get wet, so I stripped off her panties and had to use some gel to lubricate her vagina. And I worked her manually for a while, slip-slipping at her clitoris with a finger and exploring inside. But it wasn't enough and eventually she gave me a vibrator and showed me how to use it to give her pleasure. Poor Ellie had lost so much sensation from the disease it took a long time to bring her to orgasm, and I could see it wasn't anything like the intense experience I'd just had. And with that realization I began crying again. Crying for Ellie and her ruined body. But she just held my face in her hands and reassured me it was okay and she was fine, just fine. * * * "She fisted you?" said Chrissie, incredulous, as I lounged back on her couch that evening. "Only four fingers," I said, hugging the coffee mug she'd handed me. "She said it was a bit fast to move up to the full thing; particularly when I was so small." "You must have really trusted her," Chrissie said, sitting opposite me, staring at me with sparkling eyes. "Yeah I did, it was..." I paused, gathering thoughts. "She... her personality just overpowered me. I never had that before. So when she asked me to trust her I just... submitted." Chrissie just thought that was the funniest thing she'd heard and ragged me on it for a while, giving me sass. Then she tilted her head and asked more gently: "So how do you feel about Ellie?" "Damn confused," I said. "It started as a sympathy fuck for the gimp. There, I admit it. But it sorta got out of control!" I took a deep draft of the coffee before continuing. "Ellie's like this really amazing person, y'know? But I don't know if I want her because I've still got this crush on her sister and... I'm just not making sense, am I?" "Makes perfect sense to me," said Chrissie. "I'm just going to wait to see how long it takes you to figure it out." Before I could challenge Chrissie to tell me what she meant, she changed the subject. "Natalie left a message on the answering service for you. You're having lunch with her, 1pm Tuesday. Don't be late." * * * At lunch, Natalie was poised and businesslike as ever. "I need your help with the deposition," she said. "We're going to have to think carefully about how we phrase your origin story." "Both you and Agent Haspart said I have to be candid," I replied, toying sullenly with my salad. We were in a shadowed booth where we couldn't be heard. "Oh, we will be candid. But we'll have to be careful about some details, such as how you came by Freefall's costume. And we're going to have to move swiftly on this as I want to get the application in by Friday latest." "So how long is this process going to take?" I asked. "That's difficult to say, Jo," Natalie sighed. "But I'm hoping it will be weeks rather than months." She noted the dismay on my face and cocked her head to speak reassuringly. "Look Jo, this is government bureaucracy we are talking about. However, if you want things expedited, you might wish to think about finding a sponsor." "What kind of sponsor?" "A corporate body or government agency who would sponsor your application. They would sign you to some kind of employment contract and you'd work for them, either full or part-time. With a sponsor's backing you could be fast-tracked through this with expedition." "Soooooo where do I sign?" "Whoa there, lady. Since your details were filed with the BATF last Friday I've already had five approaches from hopeful sponsors, asking for more information. News about a new Class Five power gets around fast. None of the NGOs have yet contacted me but I suspect they will before the end of the week." "Wow," I put my fork back on my plate. "I never believed there'd be such interest in me." "You are going to have a lot of big decisions to take over the next couple of weeks, Jo. And I want to help you prepare for them, but they are ultimately your decisions. You will have to choose whether to go for the best money or go for the work you want to do. You will have to decide whether you want fame and attention from your powers or whether you'd prefer to keep your privacy. You may even decide you need someone else to help you rather than me - a professional agent or something." "Natalie, no. You're doing a great job and I'm really grateful." "Thanks, Jo," said Natalie, smiling. "I just wanted you to know the option is there and I won't be hurt should you take it." She paused to take a sip of coffee. "Now, we'll have to put together a brief resume about you and your abilities. We'll see what prospectuses the candidate sponsors will offer, then we can take our pick and set up interviews and powers demonstrations." "Powers demonstrations? Is that allowed? I'm still restricted, aren't I?" "We can ask Agent Haspart for a special dispensation. I'm trusting he'll grant it. Now, looking at your testimony..." And with that Natalie began talking about legal business and I was lost. * * * I visited Ellie again that week, nervous, unsure if I wanted to be in her power again. She cooked for me and then I posed for her, nude, on a blanket while she wheeled about and took a string of Polaroids. I found myself watching her, speculating. I didn't get the same charge of lust looking at her as I did with Karen, but there was something else about Ellie, something indefinable. Maybe it was just the sheer force of her charisma that was pulling me inexorably into her orbit. When she'd finished her pictures she moved painfully from her chair to the couch and I went to join her. We started to kiss, which shut Ellie up for a while, then I leaned back and she found a comfortable position where she could lie on me and touch me, intimately. She stroked my face a little and started telling me how beautiful I was naked and naming the parts of me she loved. Then her other hand started to caress my bosom; oh, how she loved to play with my breasts. I closed my eyes while she seduced me with words and soft hands. Eventually I helped her move to the bedroom and when we were there she took total charge. I did not stop her. I soon found myself sitting back against the bedstead, gripping it, with my legs apart and Ellie's head between my thighs. And for the first time I was learning the meaning of the term 'eaten out' as she slowly lapped at me and started to penetrate with her tongue. And all I could do was lie back helpless, making mewing sounds, as my body convulsed with each climax. And it still wasn't over. After a while Ellie got out the vibrator, lubed it and began to use it on me. With a wicked smile on her lovely face she began to play a new game, of seeing how many times could she get Jo to orgasm. I was now lying on silk sheets, brain scrambled, utterly powerless in her hands, a pool of flesh that juddered and made small noises each time she made me come. Then, after she'd counted to twelve, Ellie relented and stopped and just held me for a while, whispering that I was safe and everything was okay, while tears flowed from my eyes. I was unable to prevent them. * * * I finally cleared out my old apartment. I hadn't been back since I changed, and now a couple of house movers were crating my stuff to go into storage while I paid off the utilities and the remainder of my rent to the landlady. She wondered why some slip of a girl was clearing up after old Joseph Doyle, but I paid cash and so she didn't ask too many questions. Before everything was packed away I managed to collect a small box of personal papers and memorabilia to take with me, including some photos of my Mom and Dad, and my ex-wife, and of me still as a man. This was what was left of my old life. I didn't miss it, but I couldn't abandon it completely. * * * A week later I had my first sponsorship interview, in the offices of a major law firm on Third Avenue. I was dressed in a suit, with a crisp blouse and wearing the black Jimmy Choos that Chrissie had insisted on buying for me. I'd become practiced at walking in heels. I'd decided to let my wavy red hair fall free. It had grown out a little since I'd changed and my one visit to a hairdresser so far was to have it neatened. I was now starting to get used to the beauty and grooming regime this body demanded and Chrissie was a hard taskmistress. "Like it or not," she told me, "your looks are an asset right now. We are going to help you keep your shape and look like a lady." I didn't like heavy makeup but had found a combination of muted colors that went well with my new face's natural prettiness. After a round of introductions I sat in an upholstered chair surrounded by five board members; three men and two women. There was no table and the whole impression was of a casual, relaxed meeting. Natalie sat just behind me and I could detect her perfume. Dennis Abel, the saturnine vice-chairman of the Perseus Institute, led off the conversation. "Miss Doyle, this is an informal conversation where we can get to know you and you can talk to us. I want to start by explaining who we are and why we think you might like to work with us." Abel continued, telling me how PI was a Non-Governmental Organization that funded science heroes, in particular the team known as the Protectors. "The object is to help people like yourself fit in with the public services, such as fire or rescue, forestry, police, and the Justice Department bureaus." "And the military?" I interrupted. "Not directly, Miss Doyle. Though some of our clients come under the aegis of Homeland Security and so might interface with the military on certain operations. The PI primarily focuses on civil agencies." He told me how I'd be trained in various specialties, so I could work with different organizations. "Do I have a choice about who I work with?" I intervened again. "Absolutely. We won't make you to work in any field you don't want to." The conversation went on in this vein for a while. Abel was very frank about the demands of the job: the on-call hours and the ability to be put on standby at a moment's notice. Eventually I had a chance to talk about myself, though without going too deep into my origins. I mentioned my experience in air-sea rescue as a Coastguard and then my nursing and paramedical qualifications. They seemed very happy with my background, especially when I told them I was mostly interested in working with medical and rescue services. I told them I wanted to save lives. My resume covered, they outlined the remuneration and benefits packages and by the time they'd moved on to image rights and licensing I had to hand over to Natalie. "That went well," I said, as we stepped out of the building and into a cab. "Well, we have three more of these interviews with other organizations," said Natalie, settling back into the cab. "But if PI want you, they'll table a good, competitive deal." * * * That evening I plucked up my courage and finally told Ellie I had science powers. She went from stunned and incredulous to true believer in the time it took me to float some furniture around. "This is just so cool!" she laughed, clapping her hands. "Do it again!" "Look," I said, "this is strictly a Federal offense I'm committing, using my abilities as an unlicensed power. That's serious time in the slammer." "Don't worry, baby," smiled Ellie. "I won't squeal. I wouldn't dare let those prison lezzies get their hands on your beautiful bod. Talking of which, I'm still freaked that you have to strip to your underwear to do this." I was standing in bra and panties, spinning a chair in mid-air. "It's my force field," I said. "It only extends a short distance from my body and it shreds loose clothing. First time I switched it on I blew my blouse off." Ellie was in hysterics just thinking about that. "So you're going to take this job with the Perseus Institute?" she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm considering their offer. A lot now hangs on the demonstration." "Is it true they get, like, merchandising rights or something?" "Only the merchandising I approve of, yes," I said, dropping the chair back to the floor. "So I'll be able to buy a Jo doll in the shops?" "You don't need a doll," I said, sauntering up to Ellie's wheelchair and sitting on her lap. I bent over to kiss her. "You've got the real thing, well sort of." "Mmm mm," said Ellie, rubbing one hand up and down my side. "You taste nice. What do you mean by 'sort of'?" I bit at my bottom lip. It was time to tell her about Joseph. I looked deep into her eyes and said: "There's something else you should know..." * * * The Aberdeen Army Proving Grounds were a 45-minute drive out from Baltimore and Natalie and I got the VIP treatment from the Perseus Institute, with a spacious limo all the way to my powers demonstration. Dennis Abel and a group of shirt-sleeved men with scientific instruments and cameras were at the testing range, which was pretty much an area of wasteland with some targets on it. He swung by to greet me as we got out the limo. He was accompanied by a light Colonel who was the range supervisor. Agent Haspart from the BATF was also present with the written authority for me to use my powers. He was non-committal on the licensing process but seemed to think PI's interest in me was a positive sign. "No promises," he said, "but after this demonstration if they decide to sponsor you then your license could be wrapped up in weeks." I got changed into my skintights in a battered locker room that smelled of sweat and disinfectant. These weren't Freefall's leathers I was changing into, but new ones Chrissie had specially made. She'd insisted on designing my costume and it was the first time we seriously fought over anything since I'd become a woman. The skintights were a toe-to-neck one-piece in very dark green leather that contrasted with my red hair, and it had lighter green piping around it that subtly accentuated my curves. "What made you think deep green would work on me!" I'd shouted. "You look like a jade ninja, honey!" said Chrissie. "Super sexy!" "Yeah and what's with the heels!" I screamed. "They're an inch and a half, sweetie, that's nothing!" Chrissie gave me the look that said 'no dice, you lose'. As Chrissie was paying good money to dress me like a dolly, I didn't have much choice. There were no badges on the costume, which was a blessing. Zipped up, it felt snug all over, embracing every part of me. So I sashayed outside, with my ass swaying, pony-tail swinging behind me, aware I had an audience of scientists and soldiers checking me out, and got to work. It had been weeks since I'd last flown, but they gave me some time to practice. I took it easy, kicking off from the Earth and soaring up into the summer sky, testing my power. I was not only 'juiced' with my science energy, but felt brim to overflowing. The inability to slough this excess of power off had made me irritable in recent days, but now I could soar, then tumble and play tricks, such as falling along a parabola while I rotated around my center point. I was showing off, pulling ten, twenty, then thirty-gee turns in the sky, resisting forces that would snap another human, making powder-white contrails bleed off from my fingertips as I carved the air. The tests were simple enough, almost too simple. I flew. I hovered. I picked things up and antigraved them about. I shot things with my gravity blast. In one test they asked me to punch a hole in the side of an old M60 tank, which took me three attempts - the first two just rocking it on its suspension, but the third puncturing a small hole in the armor plating, splashing globs of molten metal everywhere. I even impressed myself with that. Finally, in a special workshop, they tested my force field with a machine that ever so slowly tried to force a bolt through the field barrier. I resisted easily for several minutes, my field getting hotter as it tried to dump the energy being driven into it, and eventually I had to ask them to stop the experiment as my power reserves were beginning to dwindle. I was hot and exhausted and that was the end of the test. Abel shook my hand, thanked me and told me it was a most impressive display. I was being glad-handed by a number of technicians and my impression was I'd wowed them. Then Abel introduced me to a small, familiar redheaded dressed in a tan Gucci jacket and shades. It was Freefall. I was so panicked I have no clear memory of what we talked about. I reckon I flapped my gums like some star struck fan, making "wah, wah" noises or some such. We must have exchanged pleasantries because I recalled her saying she enjoyed the display and wishing me well. I was sweating, mouth dry, wondering whether she was going to expose me as a cheap counterfeit, like one of those bogus Rolexes the Senegalese sell on street corners. I remember floundering for her name before she let me call her Anna. I told her to call me Jo. She smiled and said something about swapping notes, and then, before I could faint from shock, she was saying goodbye. In the limo back to the airport I had the driver close the privacy screen and asked Natalie: "Do the Perseus Institute know my origin story?" "I don't think so. We've been very careful with what we've told them. That said, the BATF have all this stuff on file now, and though they're supposed to keep it confidential it's always possible PI have had a peek at the papers." "So they may have figured the connection between me and Freefall?" I'd showered and changed to jeans and a skinny tee to feel comfortable, but my stomach was still knotted at what had happened. "And if they do make a connection, Jo, what do you think they will do?" said Natalie, an oasis of calm. "I'll be frank with you; I'm not sure they'd want to confront you. They gain nothing from it. They want a happy employee and I really don't think they'd bother you over something so trivial." "But it's going to be real embarrassing meeting Anna like I did today." "A piece of advice Jo, from a friend as well as your attorney?" Natalie looked at me piercingly, "Deal with it." * * * The day I was issued my license, we celebrated at a cosy family restaurant in Tribeca, my treat. Natalie brought her husband, Aaron, a kindly soul who taught criminal justice at John Jay College. Chrissie and Ellie came with big appetites and we had a fun time over the Venetian-style tapas. "So why the PI job?" asked Aaron, who was having his wrist slapped by Natalie for absently polishing the lenses of his glasses on the tablecloth. "It was a difficult call," I said. "We had a generous offer from EMRG. They're involved with the UN in various disaster relief programs and also have clients such as Medecins sans Frontieres and the Red Cross. They seemed like really exciting people. It would have involved travelling the world and working in some interesting places." "Sounds amazing," said Aaron, though his moustache. "Why didn't you take that?" "Well, this is going to sound really stupid," I said, toying with my wine glass, "but I really hate flying. I mean, flying not under my own power. Did a lot of that in the Coastguard. Being cooped up on an airplane for long hours at a stretch is no fun. Anyway," I glanced over at Ellie, "I really don't want to leave NYC and the job might have meant spending six months a year in Paris." "You're taking the EMS and rescue electives, then?" asked Aaron. "Did you think of going into law enforcement?" "No. PI offered, but I figure the rest of the Protectors have that covered. I talked to Anna, uh, Freefall, and Cobalt too, and it sounded like it's all SWAT stuff they do. They're like the heavy artillery if it all goes bad. When I was a paramedical I had to clean up after some of those gun battles and it was not much joy, believe me." * * * That evening I wheeled Ellie back to her apartment where we made love. I lay for a while afterwards, snuggled in Ellie's embrace. "So what's the most difficult thing you've had to deal with since you became a woman?" asked Ellie. "Was it the bod, the sex, the periods, the clothes?" "None of those and all of them," I said. "I mean, at first it was novel with the new body. Even with these pieces of Anna's memory helping familiarize me, it was strange. I'd feel aroused just looking at myself in the mirror. Still do sometimes. You know that old Steve Martin joke about if he was a woman he'd just stay home all day and play with his breasts? I think I did that for days after I got back. I'd touch them until they were sore." Ellie giggled and couldn't resist fondling my bosom for a moment, feeling its weight. "With a rack like this I can understand," she smiled. "No, the really difficult adjustment was social," I said. "I mean, you get all this acceptance and attention from guys and that's really validating. But there's also this sexual tension going on. The kind of guy relationships I had as a man are more difficult to have now. I find myself trying to slip into those male bonding rituals only to discover that they come out all wrong. Completely crazy signals are being broadcast and there's this big confusion of 'is she coming onto me?' and then, 'what d'you mean we're just buddies?' It's, like, SO screwed up." "So you miss being a guy?" "No, I feel more like I'm between worlds. I'm slowly changing as a person. It might be the hormones; though frankly the hormone thing just seems to make me cranky or horny or both. Or maybe it's just the fact of being a woman is molding me into something different. It's like growing from a teenager to an adult all over again. I know I'm changing, but into what? It might be years before I find out." I paused to flick some hair out of my face. "I mean, I can't talk with guys the same way any more and it's worse with women. This dingus changes your body but it doesn't change your brain." "Don't those girl memories help you adapt?" "No, the magic is very selective. It gives me a helping hand with the body shape, the way I move, even clothes and makeup; but it's really superficial. It doesn't change you from guy thinking to girl thinking. I'm still like this intense, anal-retentive man inside. So I go into social situations with women and I feel like a complete outsider. I haven't cracked the code. I mean, I still don't think I communicate that deeply with your sister." "Yeah, but you understand me." "Right, but you're sorta butch." "Oh thanks!" said Ellie, whacking me with a pillow. She was hitting me hard, I had to fend her off. "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" I shouted. "I meant you were the epitome of the femme lipstick lesbian. Get off me, OW! Get OFF!" "No way, girly. I'm about to get butch on your ass!" * * * "So, how much money they paying you?" said Chrissie, arching an eyebrow. "Let's see... once I've qualified all their courses it's one hundred