Your Wish Come True: Chapter 6 -- A Cry For Help free porn video

Chapter 6 A Cry for Help She can't face it on her own THE doorbell rang and she ran to open it. "Thank God you're here. Come in, quickly," she said, "I have to talk to you." Emma followed her into the house looking very surprised and puzzled. "Is my Dad in? I'm supposed to meet him here. It's very urgent." They had reached the sitting room. Emma was looking suspiciously at this girl who had opened the door. There seemed to be something wrong with her, judging by the way she walked. Emma noted she was four or five years younger than her, and quite a bit smaller than she was. Tiny, in fact. She was wearing one of her father's shirts, which hung loosely over her petite frame, and some khaki shorts of her father's, which also hung baggily on her. She was barefoot. She was very attractive, but she had ridiculously long blond hair, slightly damp and tied with one of her father's neckties, and a nose ring. She looked like a weird hippy girl and she was in her father's clothes. "Dad? Are you home?" Emma shouted into the apartment. "That's what I want to talk to you about," said the girl. "Are you Randi?" asked Emma, spinning round and looking at the girl with a certain coolness. "I prefer Mandy," she said. "Okay, then. Mandy. Where's my Dad?" "Look, Emma, I don't know how I'm going to explain all this. Sit down please," said the girl. "Just tell me where Dad is. I don't know why you're here, but Dad said you'd been staying with him recently. Right now I need to talk to Dad about something urgent. Dad, are you here?" Emma called out again and began to walk out of the room to search the flat." "Emma, just come back. There's something I have to tell you. It's really important. It's about your father," the girl added. Emma came back into the room. She sat down opposite the girl. "Go on then," she said. "What's happened to Dad?" "Mandy" was trying to think of how she should begin. She had been rather thrown off balance as soon as she saw Emma. She had held Emma as a newborn baby and watched her grow up. She had spent most of the day with her on the previous Saturday. But this was an Emma she had never seen before. Emma seemed to have grown and was now significantly taller than Mandy. Emma was huge and intimidating, and her voice seemed louder than usual. Mandy's own voice sounded high-pitched and a little meek in comparison, and terribly young. Mandy had planned what she was going to say to Emma but it had all gone out of her head. It didn't seem to be going as she'd hoped. "Your father is in very serious trouble," she began, but then she seemed to lose control and began to sob. Emma was looking at her steadily. She had already been anxious when she arrived, having left college as soon as she got her father's message. A text message from her father had been so unprecedented that she was already very worried, but the present situation was completely beyond any of the speculations she had made on the way there. A terrible thought entered her head as she looked at the distraught girl in front of her, wearing her father's clothes. "Umm, has my... Has Dad, umm, has Dad hurt you?" "Hurt me? How could he hurt me?" Mandy was confused by the question. Then she suddenly burst out, "No!" The girl was pulling herself together. "Emma, how could you think such a thing?" She seemed to pause to consider the matter. "Although, I suppose it's as likely an explanation as any," she added. "So, Dad hasn't hurt you, right?" Emma asked cautiously. "No, of course not. Listen. I dunno how I can explain this. Something completely dreadful has happened. It began last week when I downloaded a program or something. It was a wish but I thought it was a game--you know, like a computer game--and anyway I thought I was wishing to get it, not to become it, and I never would have thought either was possible anyway. I didn't even download it really; it sort of downloaded itself. And then really peculiar things started happening and I was acting a bit strangely, I admit it, and I've been having dreams" (Mandy blushed and gave an embarrassed laugh) "and feeling really funny, and this morning I overslept and when I woke up I was like this!" She stopped and waited for Emma's reaction. Emma looked at her for a while. She had no idea what Mandy had just been talking about. "Just tell me where my Dad is please," she said. "Emma, you haven't been listening. I need you to try and understand. I'm going to need your help," she said. "I need to speak to Dad now. Tell me where he's gone." Emma was getting impatient with the rantings of this girl she didn't even know, who seemed to have made herself at home in her father's house and was now acting in a far too familiar manner towards her. "Emma, don't you understand? It's me. Something really awful has happened to me. I woke up like this!" Mandy was also getting exasperated and her voice was getting louder and less controlled again. With these last words she threw her arms out, and held them, displaying herself as she looked at Emma desperately. Emma was deciding she would get nothing rational from this girl. She may be a relation of some sort, but she had come to see her father, who had called her about something urgent. This girl was wasting Emma's time. "I'm sorry you're having a bad day, but I really need to speak to my father. To Derek Ross." She said this in a tone which implied she was talking to an imbecile. "I am your father!" the girl said. Emma looked at her for a few moments. Then she stood up. "Look, I don't know what sort of game you're playing but I don't think it's very funny. Tell me where Dad is. Now." Emma was looking at Mandy with a certain menace. "Emma, I'm your father. I've somehow been changed into a woman. I'm a-- a girl." Mandy was speaking in a trembling voice. "I said it's not funny." Emma was sounding angry. Mandy was looking around wildly, trying to think how she could persuade Emma to believe her. "Listen, when you were four you had a doll named Jemima. She was nearly bald because you cut off her hair really close but you never let us get rid of her. We had a cat called Sylvester because he was black and white. He died when you were sixteen. You went to St Paul's Girl's School, which was very handy "cos we lived in Hampstead. Your best friend at school was Caroline Granger and she came with us on our holiday to Egypt when you were both fourteen. You drifted apart eventually when you became a prefect and she missed out. You wanted to study journalism for your BA at uni because you like to get to the bottom of things." Mandy gave a slight smile at the last remark. "Dad told you those things," Emma was still standing. "Ask me something, something only your father would know. Something I couldn't guess." "This is stupid. You're not my father." "Ask. Anything," insisted Mandy. "What's you're favourite type of music?" Mandy considered. "Oh, I like all sorts. Pop, hip hop, Latin, rock. Everything," Mandy answered. "My father only likes classical and jazz," Emma said. Mandy looked at Emma in dismay. "That was the wrong question! You don't understand, it's not just my body that's changed. It's my tastes and attitudes." "How convenient," said Emma scornfully. "Look, I love classical and jazz. Ask me how some piece goes, that your father would know." "Elgar's Violin Concerto," Emma said at once. "Da-a-a-a, da-a-a, di da di da-a-a, didididi, da-a-a-a, da-a-a, di da di da-a-a, didididi, da-ahh, di da-ahh, di da-ahh, di da-ahh," Mandy sang the melody in a very attractive voice. "The opening of the first movement," she added. "Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings," said Emma. "Da-a-a, da-a-a, da-a-a, da da di, da-a-a-a-a, di da-a-a, da da di, da- a-a, da-a da-a, da-a-a-a, da-a-a-a, DA-A!" the last note sung loudly to simulate the sforzando. Mandy was feeling pleasure and relief singing the classical themes she loved so much. It was like a reassurance that she was still herself. Or himself. Still me, anyway, she thought inwardly. She had even begun to conduct herself as she sang. She gave a smile of success to Emma. Emma looked at Mandy with pursed lips. "This isn't funny. You're not my father," she said eventually. "I know it's hard to believe. I can't hardly believe it myself." (Did I just say that? Mandy thought to herself) "I can't explain it. But I need help. I don't know what to do." "Who was my first boyfriend?" Emma suddenly shot at Mandy. "Ah, that's an interesting question. I think you would probably expect me to say Andrew Byall. You and he saw a lot of each other when you were both in a joint production of Pygmalion at school when you were sixteen. But we knew that boy--what was his name? Amrit Mathangy--took you to a party when you were supposed to be at Anastasia Ffrench's doing an assignment, and we thought maybe you had seen him after that." "How do you know that?" said Emma. "Mum said she wouldn't tell Dad when she found out." "Well she did tell me. You ask her," said Mandy. "And don't forget-- what was his name?--Liam Nixon, when you were in prep school." Emma looked at Mandy with a fierce expression. For a while she was silent. "What's your favourite food?" Emma said suddenly. "Chocolate," Mandy answered without hesitation. "My father's favourite food is smoked salmon," Emma spat out. "I know that--I do!" (Emma had made a scoffing sound) "but it's like I said, my attitudes got changed as well. They were already beginning to change, I think, before this. Remember all the chocolate I ate on Saturday?" Emma's eyes narrowed. Her father had been different on Saturday. She had remembered he had been uncharacteristically interested in fashion and popular music and a whole range of subjects she never knew he was even aware of. He had been more relaxed and approachable. "Dad said his niece Mandy had been staying here. You said you were Mandy when I arrived," Emma said. "I was making that up, Emma. You found some things in the bathroom-- women's things I'd bought. I didn't know why at the time, and I had to think up an excuse. I didn't think you believed me anyway," "I didn't," said Emma. "It was the worst attempt at lying I've ever seen. I wondered what you were trying to hide." Mandy's hopes rose as she noted Emma had said what "you" were trying to hide. "I need your help, Emma. I don't know why this is happening to me. I'm really, really scared." Mandy was beginning to lose control again, and tears were welling up in her eyes. "Dad never cries," Emma said, looking at her puckering face, not without compassion. "I know," Mandy said rather unsteadily. "Not even when your mother said she was leaving me. In the end it was me had to leave. We agreed that was better for you and Peter." "Okay, I'll listen to what you have to say," Emma said, finally sitting down again. Mandy began to tell Emma all the events of the last week, beginning with the strange survey at wishcometrue.com, a web site that now seemed not to exist. She left out most of the detail of what she had wanted in her ideal. Her long hours staring at the Picture and the sexual arousal this led to she passed over as well. But most of the events she told as fully as she could remember. "THIS has to be some kind of joke," Emma said finally. "It's a set-up isn't it? There's a camera somewhere. It's, like, some kind of TV show. I can't believe Dad would do something like this to me." Mandy gave her a stricken look. "I can't blame you for not believing me," she said, her voice soft and trembling. "I'll grant you, you're an amazing actress. You almost had me going for a moment. But magic web sites and downloading wishes and DNA in photographs are the silliest things I ever heard of. What I want to know is why are you doing this? You have obviously gone to a lot of trouble, and my father must have given you a lot of help. Maybe he was coerced. Are you trying to get his money? Is that it?" "Yes, of course. I am trying to get my hands on my money, because it's my money and I don't know what I'm going to do now or what job I can get. And I can't turn to anyone I know. Emma, if I wanted to commit a fraud why would I use such an absurd scheme, and why would I involve you? Why not choose someone gullible?" "I don't know why I'm even sitting here. Just look at you! You're a runaway schoolgirl with bare feet and a nose ring and hair like Rapunzel." "I also have a tattoo," Mandy said sheepishly. "You have a tattoo! My Dad hates nose rings and piercings and tattoos. You should have heard him when I was sixteen and wanted a belly button piercing." "I know, I gave you a hard time. I meant it for your own good. I didn't want you to look cheap and promiscuous. And it can be very dangerous getting what amounts to a surgical procedure in a far from sterile environment. So you're right, I hated piercings and tattoos. But remember, I had started to think like Mandy, and she wanted them. Now I really, really like them," Mandy said. "So do you get treated as cheap and promiscuous? That nose ring is pretty in your face, pardon the pun," Emma was sounding menacing again. "I don't know," said Mandy, feeling at a loss. "I haven't been outside the house yet. I don't know how people will treat me. I don't even know how you put them in. They were there when I woke up." She paused. "But I'm not getting rid of them." She looked at Emma defiantly. "So is this the locked in the tower look, or the barefoot peasant look?" Emma renewed her attack. "I have no shoes. No clothes. My hair was just this way when I woke up. I don't want it this long. Have you been listening at all?" Suddenly Mandy had an idea. She lifted up her feet and examined them closely. "Emma, look at my feet." "I have been looking at them," Emma said, "They're not exactly hidden." "No, really look at them. My hair doesn't look like it's ever been cut, right? I did cut my fingernails earlier, but look at these feet." Mandy held up her right foot towards Emma. It was a smallish foot, perfectly shaped, nothing apparently unusual about it. "One foot," said Emma. "Can't you come up with anything better? You've gone to so much trouble, but you haven't been very thorough, have you?" "No, look," said Mandy. Feet, especially women's feet, are usually quite callused. I know, because your mother used to like to get her feet rubbed, but it never really turned me on so I didn't do it as much as she wanted. A lot of women's shoes cause calluses. Especially at the heals, because stockings aren't as thick as socks. And if they go barefoot there would be calluses on the soles of the feet. Feel this." Mandy thrust her foot towards Emma. "Look at your own foot. See what I mean?" Mandy noticed her foot was smaller than Emma's. Mandy's foot was as smooth as a baby's. The heal looked like no shoe had ever touched it. The soles of her feet were as smooth as her hands. Strangely the nails, while they did need cutting, were not unduly long. But they were still too long to wear shoes with any comfort. "Look at the toenails," Mandy went on, excited at this discovery. "If you let your toenails grow and you wear shoes all the time they tend to curve under, don't they?. And if I've been going "round barefoot, why are my feet so smooth?" "So you've got nice feet," Emma retorted. "Not nice feet. Unnatural feet. These feet are new! Can you think of a way to explain it?." "Yes," said Emma, "You take good care of your feet. You probably wear thick socks and oversized sneakers all the time. That's probably why you walk strangely." Mandy frowned. This wasn't the conclusive proof she had hoped for after all. After a few moments she spoke. "It was a mistake to call you. I see that now. I know now that no one is ever going to believe me. Would you just do one thing for me?" "What?" said Emma, beginning to feel bad about her belligerence. "Can you just get me some clothes so I can leave the house and get my hair cut and just get out of here for a while and so I can figure out what to do?" Emma eyed Mandy in silence for a few moments. "What do you need?" Emma asked reluctantly. "I haven't got anything at all. I'll need some underwear. Pants, and a- -a bra I suppose. At least one outfit, just for today. A skirt and a top. And some shoes. Here, how about something like this." Mandy got up and fetched a magazine. She pointed to an outfit of black tights under a black ruffle miniskirt with a silver studded belt, and a long-sleeved midriff length tee shirt with broad black and white horizontal stripes under a short fitted faded blue denim jacket. "I'll need some shoes. They'll do." She pointed to the black knee high boots with two inch heels in the outfit. "And something to tie hair with." "What size?" asked Emma. "I've got no idea. I just don't know how women's sizes work," Mandy answered in a resigned tone. "Suit yourself. I guess you're a size four. If that's too big you could try a teen shop or a children's store." "Children's store!" cried Mandy. "Yes. You might need to try girls' sizes; you're pretty small. They have more of the sort of stuff you seem to want in those sizes anyway. Or I think clothes shops sometimes have petite sizes. I don't know anything about those--I was always tall for my age. And I'll try a four for shoes." She traced around one of Mandy's feet onto a sheet of paper to show to a shoe shop assistant just to make sure. Mandy got a tape measure from the study drawer and Emma measured her waist at 23 inches and her hips at 34 inches. She pursed her lips as she recorded Mandy's measurements. She then measured her chest, just below the breasts (about 27 inches when Mandy breathed in), around her bust (just over 33.5 inches) and above her bust (about 32 inches). Mandy felt very self-conscious as Emma took her measurements. The feeling of having her breasts touched sent tingles up her spine, not to mention causing her nipples to stiffen. If Emma noticed she didn't say anything. "You may still be an A cup, I suppose," Emma said. "But you could be a B or even a C cup. I'm not really sure. Probably a B cup. Anyway, they should be able to work out your bra size from these figures. You really should get bras properly fitted, you know. Or go braless--you'd be small enough for it not to worry you, I'm sure. Mum would die if she thought I was about to buy a bra for someone I hardly know," added Emma. "What do you mean " still" an A cup?" asked Mandy, ignoring the barb in the previous comment. "Will they grow?" "Well they might get bigger," Emma answered. "How old are you? And when did you start to get your tits?" "I'm forty-five. And I've never had tits till today," Mandy said apprehensively. "Okay. Whatever," Emma responded dismissively. "I'll get what I can. Money?" "Here, I'll give you my credit card. Use it to draw some money from a cash machine. The code is four-one-four-nine. OK?" "You know Dad's PIN?" said Emma. "Four-one-four-nine," answered Mandy. "Thanks for doing this." Emma left with Derek's credit card, hopefully to get some clothes rather than return with the police. Mandy checked the time. Two thirty in the afternoon. Emma might be an hour or so. I am walking funnily, she reflected. I can't get used to the way the hips feel. JUST over an hour later, to Mandy's great relief, Emma returned carrying several packages and bags. Mandy was at the door holding it open before Emma could even press the buzzer. With profuse expressions of gratitude from Mandy, the two of them proceeded to Derek's bedroom with the packages. Mandy examined everything Emma had bought before she attempted to try anything on. There were several tops, some skirts, a pair of blue and a pair of light grey stretch jeans, underwear, tights, a pair of boots and some shoes and socks, as well as some headbands and hair ties of various sorts. There were two belts, a short denim jacket, and some scarves. Emma had also brought home a couple of bags, a tapestry satchel and a soft brown leather shoulder bag. "I think I was pretty close with the bra size," Emma smiled smugly. "I got you a couple of 32B bras and one 32A and a 32C just in case. That's what the woman in the shop suggested. And since you're not all that big I got you a comfy camisole bra as well. Oh, and a sports bra. You can exchange anything that doesn't fit; I've got all the receipts. I used Dad's cash." "The first thing I'm going to do is get this hair cut," said Mandy. "Who do you recommend?" "I guess Arvi's is one of the best known hair salons. For nails and waxing and facials, you should try Amelia." "Is Arvi's your hairdresser?" asked Mandy. Emma's wavy brown hair was cut shorter than shoulder length, in a trendy style that suited her well. As Derek she had never thought to ask such a question. "Gosh, no! They're much too pricey. I just go to a place near home that I like. But Arvi's are very well known. Celebrities go there. And I've only been to Amelia once, last year for my birthday." "I'll see if I can get into Arvi's then." Mandy had a sudden extraordinary thought. "You could come with me, Em! How about you and I both get the full treatment at Amelia tomorrow? What have you got on?" asked Mandy. Emma seemed reluctant. She had become intrigued by Mandy and her claims to be her father, and had been moved by her seemingly genuine distress at whatever predicament she was in. She didn't believe Mandy. How could she? But she had become curious about why this elaborate scenario was being set up, and she also wanted to know how much her father had to do with it. "I've got classes..." She hesitated. "Oh, of course," Mandy looked disappointed. "But nothing absolutely essential, I guess." As well as strong curiosity, the thought of a free treatment at Amelia was tempting her. "Good! Let's see if we can get in. Do you mind phoning them? I'm not sure I know what to ask for." Emma went to arrange appointments while Mandy tried on clothes. She had felt strangely excited at opening the packages, but now that she was about to put on the female clothes she felt scared and reluctant. It seemed a decisive act somehow, committing herself to this new body that she hadn't wanted. It felt abnormal. She still hadn't actually put anything on when Emma came back into the room. Mandy was looking at the underwear she had planned to put on, some white and pink printed cotton panties and matching crossover mini camisole bra, which she thought looked more comfortable than the other more sexy bras with wires Emma had bought. Or so she told herself. She actually really liked the sexy bras. She actually liked them. For herself. One had adorable little bows! she noted. She longed to see how she looked in it. It disturbed her deeply. Emma returned and stood for a few moments watching Mandy, who was unaware of her presence, from the door. Emma was thoughtful. Eventually she stepped into the room and announced her presence. "How are you getting on? See anything you like?" "Oh, they look great. Thanks Em. But, well, this is so strange. I can't believe I'm about to put on women's clothes. And that my daughter is helping me do this," Mandy answered. "Let's drop the daughter bit, okay? You're not my father. I'm helping you out because you seem to be in trouble and don't appear to have any friends. That's all. Okay?" "Orright, then. That's better than nothing," Mandy thought. Mandy took off Derek's shirt which she had been wearing, and the baggy shorts. She had been wearing a pair of Derek's underpants, which she took off as well. "You have a lovely figure," said Emma. Although Mandy was slim and small, she had well proportioned curves, and looked extremely fit. It was surprising she moved so clumsily, Emma thought. "Thanks," said Mandy gratefully. She felt an unaccustomed pleasure at being complimented on her body. She tentatively put on the panties. They felt strange. Or rather she felt strange, with nothing but a gap between her legs. The panties seemed to emphasise this unnervingly. She tried to hitch them higher. "They just sit on your hips," Emma suggested. "Right. How does this go on?" Mandy was having trouble with the bra. "This sort you just put your arms in the holes and pull it over your head." Emma continued to watch Mandy, offering no other assistance other than commenting, "If I had small tits I think I'd go braless most of the time. Oh, sorry, you're not that small really," she added hastily when Mandy cast her a strange look. Mandy managed to get the bra on with some difficulty, mainly due to the length of her hair. "Oh. Great!" Mandy had it on at last, and even though her breasts weren't large she actually found the added support much more comfortable. After this she put on the tights, skirt, top and boots. Mandy looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she possibly looked a bit older with clothes on. She felt a little unsteady in high heals, but she was also feeling something else. It felt good getting dressed in these clothes. She looked hot, and she was aware that if she were still a man she would be feeling very turned on by her appearance. Actually she was being turned on by her appearance. And the realisation that she could turn others on was turning her on in a completely new way. It was like a feeling of power. She felt a warm sensation beginning somewhere below and spreading upwards. She felt slightly ashamed of the feeling and wondered whether it showed. "Do I look stupid?" Mandy asked, turning to Emma. "No, you look fine," Emma answered. Mandy smiled with relief. "You're sure?" "Yes, I'm positive. In fact you look better than fine." Emma swallowed hard. "You look lovely." Mandy turned back to the mirror. "What shall we do with the hair?" "Well I couldn't get you into Arvi's today. I didn't think I would. I made a booking anyway for tomorrow if you like, because they'll give you a great finishing cut. But if you just want to get the length cut, there's a hairdresser nearby in Gloucester Road that can do it today." "How soon?" asked Mandy. "Someone cancelled. If we get there within ten minutes they can do it." "Let's go, then." A NUMBER of people had stared at Mandy as they headed down the street. They're probably amazed at the hair, she thought. Emma spoke to the girl at the reception desk. "I rang a little while ago. They said if we got here straight away they could cut my friend's hair." The girl was staring at Mandy. "I'll get Gary." She returned with Gary, who walked into the vestibule with a wide smile of greeting. He seemed enormously tall. "So you need a quick cut. Wow!" he saw Mandy at last, "Look at you!" He ran his hair along the strands, carefully examining the ends. "Amazing! No stress even at the ends. I've never seen anything like it." He seemed to be talking more to himself. "Genevieve, go and get Nigel, please." The girl headed into the salon. Another very tall man in tight leather pants appeared. "Nigel, look at the condition at the ends." They both examined Mandy's hair, alternately expressing amazement and admiration. "We could certainly use it," Nigel said to Gary. "Much better than the best I've seen. Strong too." "Have you been to any other salon?" Gary asked Mandy. "We were going to one in not far away, Arvi's, but they didn't have time today." "Arvi's!" said Gary. "Look, we don't normally do this, but this is exceptional quality. How about ?500." "That seems a bit steep!" Mandy was aghast. "I think they're offering to buy it," said Emma. "Of course we are," said Nigel, "You were hardly going to give it away, were you? We usually import it but your hair is exceptional. It shows no sign of its age. We never get hair this quality, especially blond hair. This'll make great extensions. I could even risk bleaching this." "How much of it do you want?" said Mandy, taken aback. "I was still wanting to keep it long." "If we take twenty-three inches you'll still have it to your the top of your waist." Mandy considered. "Okay, it's a deal." "How long have you been growing it?" asked Nigel. "It must never have been cut. I'd like to know how you kept it in such good condition." "I've only had it one day," said Mandy. Emma gave her a fierce look. "Yeah, right," said Gary, rather bemused. "Okay, keep your secret. Come through then." "THAT'S the first time I've ever been paid to get a haircut," Mandy gushed as they left the hairdressers. Her hair was still long, but after spending most of the day with hair almost to her knees, she found hair halfway down her back was almost easy to cope with, and she was already instinctively aware of its behaviour, and when it was likely to get caught or blow in her face, and her hand was unconsciously there to manage it. She was wearing it loose for now, parted slightly on the left. She would have to learn and practice how to tie it back or put it up sometime. The afternoon was quite windy and it was being whipped about a bit. She and Emma did some more shopping, with Mandy able to try on the clothes this time, as well as get Emma's advice and feedback. It was quite cold, so Mandy bought a coat, a knitted hat and some gloves. Emma got some things for herself as well. By evening they were like ordinary girlfriends or even sisters (except that they looked nothing alike) out shopping together, laughing and joking and spending money. They went into a coffee shop and Emma ordered a coffee while Mandy had a hot chocolate. "Thanks for all your help," Mandy said with some feeling. "What are you going to do now?" Emma asked. "I don't know. I'll go back to the flat and stay there for now, but I don't think I can stay there indefinitely. Somehow I have to create some kind of legal identity for myself. At the moment, I don't exist. Legally, that is. There's no record of my birth. I can't open a bank account or register for social security. I don't have a passport, and couldn't get one without proof of identity. What if I get sick, or have an accident? And somehow I have to think about the implications of me disappearing. Of Derek disappearing," she corrected herself as she saw Emma beginning to scowl. "People haven't really noticed it yet, but pretty soon they'll be asking questions. And they'll be wondering what I have to do with it." Emma was silent for a while. "You're talking about my father," she said at last. "I'm asking exactly those questions myself. Have you been telling me the truth?" Emma asked, her emotions beginning to grow stronger. "Yes," answered Mandy, "everything I have told you is the truth." "Why should I believe you?" Emma said. Mandy was silent. Emma went on, "The thing is, you seem like a nice person. You even seem a bit too honest for your own good now and then. But you're not like my Dad at all. Even if your story could be true and Dad had changed into a girl, you're just not him. What about your accent?" "What about it?" Mandy asked, surprised. "You don't even talk like Dad is what I mean," Emma answered. "Even your accent is different to his. It's not nearly as, well, Oxbridge. It's a bit more, I don't know, common, maybe. You just sound ordinary, really. Essex girl or whatever." Mandy was thinking about this. She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended by what Emma said about her accent. Now that she mentioned it she was sounding a lot less rounded in the vowels. It occurred to her that she had been thinking herself that Emma sounded a bit posh today. Now she realised that was how Emma always talked, and it was her that was speaking differently. What did it mean? Maybe she'd have to practice talking more refined. But Emma had a point about her different character. "You're right Emma. I have all his memories, and I just know I'm the same person that used to be Derek Ross. But the transformation is more than physical. I can feel myself that I am changing more and more into Mandy. I believe it was happening even before this morning when I woke up a girl." Tears began to well up in Emma's eyes. "We had a great time on Saturday," she said. "Yes, I loved us all being such friends together," said Mandy. "Me too," Emma replied. She was now fighting to control the tears. "I can't remember Peter and me having such a good time with Dad," she said "I enjoyed it too," said Mandy with concern. "The thing is," Emma went on, "was it Dad or you we were having such fun with. I know Dad was different on Saturday. I thought it was a bit weird. But--," Emma wiped away a tear, and brought herself under control with great effort. "But, umm," she hesitated again. Then she went on, "I--I think I liked him better that way." Emma's face crumpled and she hid her face in her hands. She wiped her tears away with a handkerchief and blew her nose. Mandy reached out her hand and held Emma's. "You were giving me a very hard time about the perfume," she said at last. Emma laughed nervously. "I did, didn't I? Sorry about that." She seemed a bit steadier. "Listen, Emma," Mandy went on. "I don't understand what's happened to me, or why, and I don't know yet exactly what I'm going to do about it. But this morning I was scared and confused and hysterical. I spent hours wondering who I could turn to. In the end I could think of only one person I could trust." Mandy's grasp on Emma's hand tightened. "Emma, it must be difficult for you too. But I'm so proud of you. Nothing can change that." Emma held her handkerchief over her eyes with her free hand, returning Mandy's grasp with the other. They were talking quietly, and could not be overheard in the noisy coffee shop. But some people were staring at them, speculating what the emotional scene between these two young women could mean. At last Emma spoke. "If what you're saying is true, it must be terrible for you. But if it is true--" she lifted her head and looked Mandy in the eyes. "--then, don't you see? I've lost my father." Mandy's eyes grew wider as she returned Emma's gaze. "No! I'm alright!" said Mandy. "I'm even starting to think there might be some good things about it." Mandy began, but Emma interrupted. "You don't understand. Even if what you say is true, you can't be my Dad. Look at you! You're a gorgeous girl! Most girls can't even cope if their mother is prettier than they are, but their Dad!" She gave a sardonic laugh. "Hey, come and meet my Dad! Isn't she beautiful? What shall we get Dad for Father's Day? How about some lacy underwear? What about when I get married? Who's going to walk me down the aisle? You?! Not in a million years." Mandy looked at Emma aghast. She had been thinking that maybe she could cope with all this if only the immediate problems could be overcome. Perhaps some survival instinct was starting to assert itself. But now she realised anew what she had lost. And others might also be losing someone they knew and valued. Emma was right. Everything was going to be different. She was a different person. Tears began to well up in her eyes as well. "People do lose their fathers," Mandy said at last. "They learn to carry on." That didn't sound very comforting, she thought, cringing inwardly. But Emma replied, "You're right. I'm being selfish. It must be far worse for you. "If your story's true," Emma added, pulling herself together and wiping away her tears. "Emma, there's something I want you to know," Mandy said hesitantly. Emma looked at her enquiringly. Mandy went on, "For a long time now, I think I've been, that is Derek's been, quite unhappy. Depressed I suppose. I've been drinking too much. Some days I could hardly get out of bed. Since the divorce, I suppose. I really don't know how much longer I could have gone on like that. I've been quite lonely." "Go on," said Emma. Mandy was silent for a while. "I did sometimes think about ending it all," Mandy answered, "but I probably never would have gone through with it. But the funny thing is, since this started, I haven't felt depressed. I feel scared and worried and confused, but I feel optimistic and young and really alive. I can't explain it. I didn't want this to happen, but I'm finding it--fun!" Emma allowed a slight smile to come to her face. "Dad and fun didn't often go together," she said. "But I really loved my Dad. I really respected him, too." Emma paused for a few moments. "Tell me something," she went on. "I know you said you were different. How different? Is my Dad still there at all?" "I'm still me, you know," Mandy said. Then she frowned and considered. "I think I know what you're getting at," she continued, "How much have I changed inside. I have all his memories. and they are definitely my memories. I feel the same way about everyone I know that I always felt." She gave Emma's hand a squeeze as she said this. She went on, "I'm aware of all his attitudes and opinions. But--but they're not necessarily my attitudes or opinions, or tastes, any more." She closed her eyes with the effort of describing it. "It's like he still has an influence on me, like he's my father or something, but I make my own decisions now. I feel the same person as Derek, but I also feel a different person." Mandy looked steadily at Emma. "Emma, I still think like him a bit, but I think he might be getting weaker. As I learn more and more to be who I am now, I think he gets less and less. "Emma, I love you very much," Mandy continued, "and that won't ever change. Look, I may be wrong, and I don't really understand what's happened, but I think he might eventually disappear. His personality I mean. It will just be, like, a memory." Tears were streaming down both their faces. Several people were casting sidelong glances at them. A woman at a table nearby coughed in a disapproving manner. "Oh god," Emma said. "That's being very honest. Thank you." The two girls wept openly. "SHE just lost her father," Mandy said to the glaring woman as they left the coffee shop. "Oh! I'm so sorry," said the woman, looking embarrassed. They were out in the street now, having tidied themselves up after the crying and paid for their drinks. "Well if my Dad is like a father to you, I guess you're sort of a sister," said Emma. "I always wanted a sister." "I am still the same person, though, I'm sure I am," said Mandy. "But I suppose sisters is good. Does this mean you believe me?" "I don't know," replied Emma. "It's just too crazy. Let's just say I haven't got a better explanation yet." "All right," said Mandy. "I think we need to get back to the flat now. I feel really tired. Can you come back?" "Yes, I'll come back with you for a bit, but then I really need to get home." They went back to Derek's flat and spent some time examining their purchases and trying on a few items. Mandy ordered some pizza, which they ate as they discussed what Mandy could do about establishing a legal identity. Then Mandy wanted Emma to tell her some more about what she should know about being a woman. "I guess I'm going to have periods," she said. Then she suddenly had a look of horror. "I could get pregnant!" she said. "I could get raped!" "This is so weird!" Emma was saying as though to herself. Then she addressed Mandy, "Look, I think you should go to see a gynaecologist. Just for a check up. Mum took me to see one when I was fourteen and I've been regularly ever since." Mandy nodded. "I'll make an appointment as soon as I can. What time are we meeting tomorrow?" "We have to be at Amelia at half past nine. They give us lunch there. We should be done by one thirty. You're supposed to be at Arvi's at two o'clock. You'll need to get straight into a cab after Amelia." "It seems a lot of time at the beauty salon," Mandy said. "Think of it as a holiday," said Emma. "It's going to be great!" WHEN Emma had gone, Mandy realised she had to do something about the office. She had held them off today, but tomorrow they would be expecting Derek at work, with some account of whatever emergency had kept him from coming in. She decided to send an e-mail making excuses for the rest of the week. That should buy some more time, and they would see it first thing in the morning. She went into the study and opened the laptop. She opened the e-mail browser. She remembered she hadn't checked the e- mail for about four days, and there were a lot of messages waiting. There was a lot of spam, as usual, most of which had been diverted to the spam folder. There were a few e-mails from software designers, and some from friends. She wondered if she would ever see them again, now that she seemed to be having to start a whole new life. There were some work related e-mails. Suddenly she saw an e-mail with the subject Miranda Vero. Shouldn't it be " Miranda Vere" ? But it couldn't be anything to do with her, no one knew she existed yet. Perhaps it was junk mail and it was just a coincidence that the subject was similar to the name she had given herself. Nevertheless, she decided to open the e-mail. It read: "Dear Mr Ross, Concerning Miss Miranda Vero for whom you are acting. Attached please find as requested electronic copies of her replacement passport and birth certificate, the passport having been lost while she has been in England. Other documents have been destroyed by fire. The replacement documents have been forwarded to your office for collection by Miss Vero. You already have a copy of her late father's last will and testament. You should note the provisions relating to her minority and matters concerning the property in Belgravia and the other funds and assets belonging to the estate. Probate is to be finalised in Malta shortly with property in the UK and elsewhere being settled in accordance with the relevant Maltese and British laws. Thomas Thornton Thornton and Thornton, Solicitors" Mandy was stunned by what she read. She was completely unaware of the existence of such a client. Was it her, perhaps? Why then was her name Vero and not Vere, his mother's maiden name, which he had chosen a few days ago? She opened the passport copy. There was her face, hair drawn back round her ears but then falling down her shoulders in front. It did not seem as long as it was that morning. It was more like it was now. It was a British passport. Her name was Miranda Aisha Vero. Her birthday was 19 March, 1990. That was today. She was seventeen years old. Her place of birth was Valetta, Malta. But my birthday is the 12th September, she thought. Although I suppose I began in this body just today. Then she opened the file of her birth certificate. According to this her father was Italian. His name was Flavio Donatello Vero. Her mother was English. Her maiden name was Eva Rowena Blythe. If "Vero" was an Italian name, Mandy considered, it meant something like "true" or "truly". Of course! It could mean "real". Now that her Ideal had become real, that was the appropriate name. This was beginning to seem a bigger mystery than she had realised. The e-mail mentioned a will, and property. A vague memory began to surface. In the fun of fantasising, hadn't she had put "rich" as one of her Ideal's characteristics? What else had she put? She couldn't really remember, it seemed so long ago, though it had only been a week. But it had been late at night, and she (that is Derek) had had quite a few glasses of whisky. What if she were rich? Whatever the case, she seemed now to have a legal identity. That was an enormous relief. But what were the provisions relating to her minority mentioned in the will? If she was only seventeen she was certainly a legal minor and would not have complete control of any inheritance. The e-mail assumed that a copy of this will was at Derek's office. How was she going to get a look at it, now that she was no longer Derek Ross? And how would she explain living in Derek's apartment, and the fact that he seemed to have disappeared? Maybe she should stop trying to hide Derek's disappearance and instead say that as her solicitor he had invited her to stay with him, and he had now gone missing. It was fairly close to the truth, as far as it went. Although as Derek Ross she could not think of any circumstances in which she would have invited a client to stay with her. What about suspicion falling on her for Derek's vanishing? Only if she tried to conceal it. She had used his credit card (really her credit card, but no-one would see it that way) to get money from a cash machine. That could be seen as stealing. She could claim it was a loan, pending access to her own funds. Could she be sure she had funds? It could work. Her predicament was looking much less dire. She would have to be up early to make some calls and appointments. She had a lot to do if she wasn't going to be late for the beauty salon! ONCE again Mandy stood naked before the full-length mirror. The haircut had made a big difference. She looked much less strange without the ludicrously long hair. She looked younger yet somehow more confident. There was little trace of the distraught face that had looked back at her that morning. She tried to study the way she walked. She still felt awkward, and Emma had commented on it. Her hips felt bigger compared to the rest of her body, and her legs were much wider apart at the top than they used to be, and so she seemed to be walking with her feet too far apart. She stood still and looked at herself. Where once there had been straight male hips, masculine thighs touching each other and a penis with its sagging scrotum, there was a great empty space between her thin tight thighs; and her vagina in the middle of the gap with its little bush of hair held her spellbound. She tried walking with her legs going one in front of the other a bit more. That looked a bit more natural, but it made her hips rotate as she walked, which felt strange, yet seemed to work much better. She gave her hips a wiggle. Wow! That looked and felt fantastic! she said to herself. She wasn't sure she even knew how she had done it. She struck various poses, first turning side on and jutting her backside out with her back arched. It looked really sexy. She gave herself a pouty kiss. A hot melting feeling seemed to spread through her. Was that her giggling? Nothing surprised her anymore. She giggled again, this time with a tone of something else. She played with her hair and smiled at herself. She swung her hips left and right, looking down and away, then back at the mirror smiling bashfully. Another little giggle. She gave one of her nipples a tweak and pouted a little. She felt another surge of warmth from somewhere inside. That's brilliant! she thought rapturously. What a flirt! What a prick tease! She was so wet her thighs were getting moist. She turned full on to the mirror, holding her own gaze steadily. She looked impressed with herself, smiling with quiet satisfaction. Still holding her own gaze (or being held by it), she slowly lowered herself into a crouching position, descending slowly from the knees. There was a slight squelching sound. She seemed to be able to lower herself so that her buttocks almost touched the ground, her hands resting lightly on her knees, her back perfectly straight. She could feel herself stretched open as she held this position. Then she slowly raised herself and faced her reflection, standing with her legs still slightly apart. I'm really strong for my size--and supple, she thought. She noticed her breathing had got faster. She turned away from the mirror and looked back. She almost caught her breath at the sight of her beautiful straight back. She got down on her hands and knees. Looking back over her shoulder she could see her vagina in full view between her buttocks, pink and swollen. Legs together or apart, it couldn't be hidden. It seemed to be the source of the warm feeling still spreading through her. She could see her anus clearly as well, a very small, tight, puckered hole. No more piles! (Derek had suffered from haemorrhoids for quite a number of years now.) She kept looking at the reflection of her labia from behind. It was like the most amazing pornography she had ever seen! She could make the image do as she pleased. She thrust herself towards the mirror provocatively and examined it from different angles. It was just a pity she had to strain her head in different positions to see past the rest of her body. Just look at that fanny! she thought. I'd love to screw that gorgeous cunt frontwards, backwards and sideways! That arse looks tasty, too! Come on in, you guys, she answered her own crudity. You know you want to! She imagined what it would be like to take this young beauty from behind, entering and thrusting and giving her pleasure. She would moan with delight and encouragement. Go on, do it now! She made herself do so. Louder! More sexy! Yes! she yelled, Ooh yeah! Harder! Right there! Don't stop! Mmm! That's really beautiful! Just there feels fantastic! Perhaps I shouldn't be thinking like that now that I'm actually the image, she thought vaguely. It's just a bit of fantasy, she countered. Harmless fun. God! You're so bloody gorgeous! I can't believe it's me I'm thinking about like this, she thought. Should I be outraged? Disgusted? Flattered? She didn't detect any feelings of panic or fear, however. She was just musing. I can hardly bloody screw myself, though, can I? Plus, a girl like this would never have me, would she? But while you've got her, there'd be no harm just seeing what it's like for her, would there? It's all right, you can touch her. She wants you to. Does she really? Just do it, Mandy. Still on her hands and knees, he lowered her thighs down on her calves, and rested her cheek on the floor, bringing her hand around to her back. She felt her anus, perineum and vagina with her fingers, and gently explored the sensations, putting her fingers in and out, stroking, pressing and touching. Her skin felt firm but soft, silky and warm. She was still fully wet, and she could hear squelching noises as she played with her pussy. She was using both hands, pulling the lips of her vagina back and slipping her fingers in and around and massaging and kneading her buttocks. She began to move herself to meet her own touches, rocking back and forth and becoming more excited. She rolled onto her side and began to play with her vagina and clitoris from the front with one hand, while her other hand was round the back. She felt again what seemed like a drum or elastic band at the entrance of her vagina that she had felt earlier in the day. She put a finger in her anus, not really registering the exquisitely sharp sensation as pain, and gently moved it round. Then two fingers were in her vagina as well, the palm of her hand applying pressure to her clitoris and pubic bone. The fingers felt a little tight but she persevered. Moans and gasps were coming from her as she became totally absorbed in the rhythmic jerks of her pelvis, which shook her whole body. She could feel her breasts hard and erect, her whole body resonating in tune with an unheard music. She lost track of time and all other concerns. The feel of her vagina and her anus being penetrated together became the only things that mattered. So many different sensations seemed to come from just a slight variation in the position of her fingers or the pressure of her movements. She could not have said whether hours or minutes had passed. Then it was as though the music had changed. The volume had been turned up or the tempo quickened. A crescendo was coming. But she didn't want to reach it quite yet, until she was completely satisfied she understood this part of the song. She hovered there, suspended between the desire to stay there forever and not being able to stand it for another second. Back and forth. Stay! Finish! Stay! Finish now! No, no, stay! At last it was as though she had been floating in the sea, and a really big wave had lifted her up and carried her in to the shore. Then another wave. And another. Picking her up and dropping her down, and washing over her, until she was left, limp, perspiring, exhausted on the floor of the bedroom, as still as death. SOME slight sound awoke her--her hearing still seemed very acute. She was still on the floor, curled up near the mirror, the smell of sex still on her. She was a little cold and she needed to empty her bladder. She went to the bathroom and relieved herself without experiencing any feeling of strangeness. Getting up off the toilet she gave her body a stretch. Standing on her toes she pretended to walk on a tightrope, wiggling her bottom in an exaggerated way. The awkward walk had gone. She executed a perfect pirouette. She had never felt until now this sense of oneness with one's body. She felt capable of anything, her body would do anything she asked. But all she required it to do was take her sliding sensuously into bed. And into sleep.