A Mistake To Remember Chapter 1 free porn video

I started writing this story as a reaction. Simply put, I couldn't believe that a regular guy would suffer, a, ah, personal outrage, then blow it off. While I was writing this, I also wondered that in virtually every story I'd read in TG land that dealt with the gift of extended life, the main characters, when given a choice, chose to keep it all for themselves. I'm not really making any sort of point with this tale; it's more of a matter of being realistic, and maybe setting the record straight. :) Enjoy, Aardvark *** Chapter 1: My manager shrugged his heavy shoulders when I confronted him in his office. "Sorry, Charlie, I can't give you a raise." I may have expected it, but I could still feel the blood rush to my face. "This is the second new kid straight from college I've mentored," I replied, as calmly as I could. "He forgot himself and told me what he shouldn't have. Why is this wet-behind-the-ears newbie making $5,000 more a year than me -- with stock options, yet -- to start?" He folded his arms and sat back in his chair. "You're a smart guy. You tell me." "I know what you're going to tell me. He's got a BS; I went to tech school and worked my way up." "Right in one. We've discussed this before. If you went back to school--" "I'd have to start over. That's years of night school, and it wouldn't improve what I do one bit. And I can't quit to go back to school full time because I need the job to pay the bills. I just bought a townhouse." "So, you're stuck. It doesn't matter how good you are if you don't look good on your resume. Call it whatever you want, this company has to justify raises in some standard way." "You're paying the new guy more than me! How is that fair?" He shrugged again. "We needed another tech writer. The company is only hiring college grads, now, and that's the going rate nowadays. Don't like it? Knock yourself out in HR. It's tough that you're caught in the middle, but that's the way it is." "Well, I'm not going to take this crap. Yeah, I'll work here until I get enough, and then I'll quit to go back to school. But I'll be damned if I'll come back here when I'm done. This company can go screw itself." He stood up. I wasn't short, but the ex-linebacker towered over me. He thrust out his hand, making me stick out mine or look like a jerk. He grabbed it in his paw and shook it like it meant something -- and maybe it did. In a company where shifty-eyed tools in business suits prowled the floors like packs of dogs, he was okay. "I hope you get what you want, kid," he said. It was still a polite way of telling me to pound sand. I left pissed, but what could I do? I blamed the lawyers for their way of turning exceptions into class-action lawsuits. I cursed them! I wanted to kick them where it didn't shine! Not that that would do me any good. Nobody liked the bastards, but they still ruled the Western World like slithering gods. I would like to say that I'd made some great decision at that point that changed my life, but the truth was that I was still in a funk when the real crisis hit. Two months later, my manager called me into his office and had me take a seat, always a rotten sign. After a few of the usual manager-to-employee questions about how I was doing, he looked me right in the eye and let me have it: "Charlie, you can't tell anyone what I'm telling you now. If you do, I'll be in deep shit." Managers didn't confide in their employees, and if it was good news, he'd have called a meeting. Crap. "Are you talking layoff?" "They're not calling it that, but for you it might as well be. We're restructuring, moving some of the R&D offshore and we won't need as many tech writers here. You have the least education, so you'll go first, and I doubt that another department will pick you up. They'll always go with Bachelor's degrees if they can." "Jesus H. Christ, when?" "It might be three months before they announce it. I'll give you flex time to look for a job and, in the meantime, you might think about using those vacation days. I'll give you my best recommendation." It was soon obvious that the market wasn't interested in a tech writer with a technical degree. I could have restarted as a technician again, but I was determined that a step down would be my last resort. It wasn't long before I'd tried all the largest firms within fifty miles and some of the medium-sized companies, with nary a nibble. The next on my list was one of the few left that had responded to my resume with the offer for an interview, a firm I'd never heard of, Mengstrom Innovations. I took a day off to drive downtown to meet the company rep. I liked Evalyn Mengstrom on sight. She had a Nordic look, the kind that gives you visions of saunas and spas. I figured she was about ten years older than I was, which made her about thirty-five, and she greeted me with smile lines and confidence. I liked that -- it was the Homo Rodentia that you had to watch. She told me that she'd be my manager if they hired me, and came right to the point: "This is a family-owned business, and we do things a little differently. We care more about your ability than your diploma. Our business is based on developing and marketing innovations and inventions, quite often in esoteric fields. Specialists are extremely expensive, and we find that first class generalists who can do their own research and learn the required technologies are better at communicating the necessary information to our customers, and for our own internal evaluation." It sounded great to me. "Well, I'm a self-starter and a fast learner, Ms. Mengstrom." "So your manager says. He had high praise for you, enough to give you an evaluation, but first we'd like to give you a complete physical -- for our medical files." It was an unusual request that might perk up a few legal ears, but I was in perfect health and ran nearly every day. "Not a problem, Ms. Mengstrom." The physical was thorough, but it wasn't anything compared to a blistering battery of tests, encompassing a broad spectrum of scientific fields. There were tests of reading comprehension, and I had to answer a lot of personal questions that I was sure bordered on illegal. It took an entire day, and at the end, I was slick with sweat and had no idea if I'd done well or bombed. They girl I handed my forms to said only that they would get in touch with me soon. About the time I'd written them off, they called back, and offered me the same salary as my old job. After thanking my ex-boss for his recommendation and saying goodbye to everyone who deserved it, I reported for duty across town at a modern two-story structure of brick and steel, set in a private park with shade trees, tables and footpaths. After I went through the orientation process, I took a walk around the building before heading for Evalyn's office. The building had touches that my old plant lacked, like flowers, real wooden paneling, and carpeted halls. My new boss led me into an open section, a standard office arrangement of cubicles and overhead lights -- and more flora -- then brought me around to make introductions. At the sound of my voice, about a dozen female heads popped up over the sides of their Herman Miller walls. Evalyn watched me with mild amusement as it penetrated that I was the only male in the room. Compared to what I was used to, this could have been an exotic hidden valley in a mini-series. My old department had been guy heavy with a couple of married women. This group was mainly around my age, and most, I learned rapidly, were single. None were bad looking, but three caught my eye, and over the next couple of weeks I made sure to get to know them. Modesty was a British brunette that made my heart purr like an Aston- Martin, Carmen had eyeballs that could suck a man's soul, and Su Mi's sweet smile had me fighting my dragon from day one. Yet it seemed that my dreams were to remain curvaceous fantasies. A few of my compatriots had had bad experiences from seeing others within the company, and they all stood firm in a pact they'd made, refusing my every offer and plea to see them socially. Still, they were decent about it, and after a couple of weeks of circling around the male invader in their midst, they gave me probation and a half-step into their circle. This was enough to notice a change in their attitude. Around October, voices went quiet as I passed, and a few giggled behind hands as they eyed me. I stayed above it all. After all, I told myself, even if they wouldn't date me, I was still a lion among lionesses, and, besides, they would tell me what was going on when they were ready. And so it proved: they appointed Su Mi, the Inscrutable One, to approach me. She appeared silently around my cubicle wall, sweet incense riding her body like an ancestor. "Charlie, would you like to have a drink with us after work?" she breathed, batting epicanthic folds in ways that had helped produce billions of Chinese. "Why sure," I replied coolly, ignoring the activity down below. "Good," she said, pursing her lips in a way that could mean anything, but looked promising, and then she disappeared as swiftly as she arrived. I arrived at Bennigan's a few minutes after they did, and spotted them in the corner. I felt their eyes measure me all the way to the table. I had few illusions: I was taller than most men and in good shape, but I wasn't exactly a stud. I had a runner's body and was cursed with a face that rarely saw a blade. Years before, I'd tried wearing my hair short, but I looked like Sinead O'Connor's kid brother, so my "style" then was to wear it long and pretend that I was that Ranger in Babylon Five, or Aragorn, and I wore loose clothing that promised freedom of movement in case of attack. "Charlieee!" shouted Carmen, shifting over a chair to make room for me. I slid into the chair she had just vacated, absorbed her butt heat like sunshine. Modesty chose that moment to stretch her upper half in a way that no man could have matched. Su Mi set a beer stein in front of me, leaning over me to do it. As I took a drink, they watched me in a way that would have made any male mammal nervous. It was way too thick; they were definitely up to something. "All right, what's going on, guys?" "You know there's a Halloween party this weekend," Carmen said. "Oh, yeah, I think I remember," I said. Of course I knew about it. We all knew about it. Mengstrom Innovations was into employee togetherness. The women had talked about it all week, discussing what they would be: the usual felines; slinky, evil women; and creatures of the night, mostly. I approved. Most had figures that would stretch a body suit in all the right directions. Modesty asked, "And what did you intend to be?" "I'm split between Abe Lincoln and a dandelion -- maybe I'll be both. Why?" Head shakes and fast answers came from around the table: "No." "All wrong for you." "Lame." "Pathetic." "God-awful." "Bad idea." "Tsk, tsk!" Su Mi placed her hand on my shoulder and shook her head in amusement. She said, sweetly, as to a lovable but slow child, "You must abandon your plans. We have decided that you shall be dressed as one of us, as a girl." "A girl? Uh! Well..." I reddened as any real guy would, but little Charlie perked up at being the center of attention. "I do not reject this out of hand," I said clearly, "only because I am so manly that my masculinity cannot be threatened." Nods and affirmations came from around the table indicating that this, indeed, could only be the case, and so I agreed. I was an idiot. I'd figured they'd loan me a dress and tights, stuff a bra, and maybe find a wig. Instead, when the time came, Carmen dropped me off at a salon downtown, a small place with a petite pink neon sign provocatively labeled, "Dream Girls." "Don't worry about a thing, Charlie," she said to me as I stalled at the entrance. "They're expecting you. Just relax and have a good time." She blew me a kiss, and made sure I was halfway through the door before she sped away. I was brave, and so I pushed onward. A Germanic figure with baby blues met me at the door. She introduced herself as Greta, and hauled me to the back with a powerful grip. Once there, she closed the door and ordered me to strip to my underwear. I wasn't ashamed of my body and my shorts were clean, so I complied. While I did that, she flipped on something by Wagner where a woman shrieked and wailed and took a long time to die. "Mood Muzik," she explained, rubbing her hands together. For the next half-hour she hummed and ripped away what little body hair I had below the neck. I bore it well enough until she closed in on my nether regions. "Don't you vant bikini vax?" she asked, pointing to where I clutched myself with both hands. I stared at her, appalled. "Are you insane? What the hell for?" "Zey haf paid, and vill be disappointed if you do not," she declared, hands on hips. "Vat a sissy! I am a professional. You keep your shorts on and I verk around your meat, no? Is all right," she insisted, prying my hands away with nerve pinches. I decided that it wasn't worth having a fight over, so I let her have her way. She did what she said she'd do, and how! I might have bitched about it more, but she it was over so fast, I barely had the chance. When she was done with me, she tossed me a terry cloth robe. I pulled it on and she opened the door, patting my bottom as soon as I was halfway through. I turned on her, outraged as only a denuded man with a racing stripe could be. "You are smooth und zoft," she giggled, waving me forward. "You zee, you make a fine girl." I thought I understood now. "I'm not gay!" I growled at her. "Didn't anyone tell you? This is just for a Halloween party!" She winked as she pushed me through. "Haf course, that is all it is," she said. I couldn't believe her attitude, but she was gone before I could formulate a suitable reply. Before my mouth could shut, a matron in a white apron appeared from nowhere and snatched my hand. "Welcome, Charlie," she said with a broad grin. "Please! Have a seat. We have so much to do in so little time." She at least, seemed sane, so I tried to let go what had just happened and climbed into the chair she indicated.. I looked around the room. I was not an expert on such things, but I thought that it looked like a typical hair salon. What I had expected to be there, wasn't. "Hold on, you aren't going to fit me with a wig?" "We have some in the back room," she said, "but we'll only use them if we have to." She bent over to be at eye level, and fluffed my hair out between her fingers. "Mm, yes. This will do nicely, I think. You have a rich, full head of hair. And your face..." She placed her hands to my cheeks, chin and cheekbones, twisting this way and that. "You are so lucky to have your bone structure! Yes -- I know exactly what to do. You'll look so good when we're done!" She reached somewhere and came up with a pair of scissors and comb. Before I knew it, she'd cut away a huge swath of hair in front of my face. I grabbed her hand. "Just what do you think you're doing? This is just for a night, a party!" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for ...! Stop worrying. Your company paid us a lot of money to do what we do best. Relax, Sweetie, we're the experts!" Until then, I'd thought the girls had chipped in for my "treatment." "Wait! Mengstrom Innovations is paying for this?" She forced her attention from my hair, finally, to focus on my face. "Yes, yes!" she said impatiently. They hire us on occasion. It's always the works, only the finest, and nobody has ever complained -- until now." Stunned, I released her. She continued to cut and mold, mumbling about split ends and highlights. ~Why would Mengstrom pay for this? Maybe because you agreed to it before you knew what it was, you dumb ass?~ It was possible. Mengstrom wasn't like my last company. It was as much tradition as dollars and sense with this family firm, and they were known to go to great lengths to keep their employees loyal and happy. Their parties, I heard, were legendary for their extravagance, but it was unsettling that they might think that I'd want to go along with this. In the end, I let it go. It wasn't the end of the world. The worst that could come from this was that I'd need a shorter hair cut, and the damage was already done. Giving in to the inevitable, I allowed her to wash and bleach my dark brown hair a glossy blonde. The bleach bugged me, but I reflected that the haircut was worse, and I could easily dye my hair back when the party was over. My mood didn't prepare me for what I saw in the mirror when she told me I could look. It wasn't a male haircut, and, unless I looked hard, I didn't look male. My hair gleamed under the lights, and the shape framed my face, making it seem softer. Hell, from the neck up I might have fooled myself! My hairdresser beamed down at me while I stared, dumbfounded. "I wish I could take the credit, Honey, but you're a natural," she sighed, crossing her arms in satisfaction. "And there's more to come!" She wasn't lying. For a time, I held my own. I allowed a manicure and a paint job, but confronted the make-up lady when she attacked my eyebrows with tweezers. In a flash, yank, pull, pull, and three were gone! How many would she take? I wasn't willing to find out. I held her at arms length until we came to terms. I watched her warily after that, and when she pulled out the breast forms, company or no company, I threatened to walk out.. "These are temporary!" she insisted, holding a quivering mass in each hand. "They come off with solvent. Don't be a wuss! I don't think we've ever had a client like you. Besides, they aren't cheap, and they're already paid for." "Well ... all right -- damn it!" I agreed because I hated being called a wuss, but, in truth, I figured that I had already come too far to stop. This trip to this Bizarro man- salon had to be a company miscalculation, but, mistake or not, I was too new to risk offending the powers-that-be by being a bad sport, so I let her glue them to my chest, where they hung like omens. She did something to the lines where they met my skin, and when she strapped on a bra, it was hard to tell where I began and ended.. The young woman admired her handiwork, then handed me a gaff. I'd never seen one before, but its purpose was obvious. Grim now, but determined to see it through, I snatched it from her hand, and headed for the side room, where my package might be packaged in private. After that trauma, the corset, hip forms, pantyhose, skirt and blouse were anticlimactic. Being six feet tall, I finally caught a break when the woman gave me short heels to wear. While I gaped at myself in the full-length mirror, the women responsible for my transformation stood around me, insufferably pleased at what they'd done. In three hours they'd made me, to all intents, if not purposes, a fairly hot babe. Despite myself, I was turning myself on. I could barely believe that it was me, except that little Charlie, suffering in his confinement, reminded me. "That's what we like to see!" the hairdresser laughed. "She's speechless!" She pulled me into a hug, and the others clutched me as well. My mind numb, I stared at the woman in the mirror in the blouse and powder-blue skirt, and touched my cute face with crimson nails. The hairdresser nodded, satisfied with what they'd accomplished, if not my reaction. "Yes, it's you, and you do look wonderful." She handed me a large purse with my belongings and some extra make-up, and guided me out the door. "Bye, Charlie! Come back soon!" she called. The door closed behind me and the neon "Open" sign in the window went dark. Distantly, I heard a lock snick shut. I faced the busy sidewalk, paralyzed, purse in hand and unaccustomed weight hanging from my chest. A few men gave me a once-over; women, in general, ignored me. I barely moved in the short pumps, afraid of my balance, this new world, and what people would think if they knew who I was. Fortunately, I didn't suffer long. Carmen's red sedan whipped around the corner and slowed down as it approached me. I spotted Su Mi in the front and Modesty in the back as she pulled towards the curb. Carmen stared as she pulled in, and I saw her mouth, "Oh, my God." Modesty opened the rear door for me and pulled me inside. I collapsed in the seat as we took off and took a few shallow breaths, more aware than I'd ever wanted to be of corsets, skirts, pantyhose and bras. "Charlie?" Modesty said, her mouth open. Her finger poked my fake breast; it was like an "on" switch. "Holy shit! Do you know what they did to me in there?" Modesty loosed a peal of laughter. "It is you! Who knew that you were prettier than Carmen?" "Hey, bitch!" came the good-natured reply from the front. "Well, it's almost true. Charlie, believe us, we had no bloody clue they'd arranged all this. Evalyn suggested it as something that might bring the department closer." She released a nervous chuckle. "We all went along with her, of course. Wow! With that skirt, you must be tucked away somehow. Tell me. Have you ever considered a sex change?" "No!" "You are so pretty, Charlie," Su Mi said in her sweet voice. "Ai yo! You are so nice. But you should know that I do not swing that way." She giggled, holding her hand over her mouth. "All right!" I said, raising my hands in protest. "This is not going to get to me. Yeah, they went too far, but it is a costume party, it all comes off; and my hair will grow back. The heck with it. Where are we going, anyway?" I asked, seeing that we were still headed downtown. "To find a costume for you," Carmen replied. "Evalyn told us to get you something special for tomorrow. You know, it might be that she just wants you to win the best costume prize for our department. She's always 'team this, team that.'" I wanted to believe it, and it made a sort of sense. "Sure, that has to be it." The others in the department were waiting for us at the mall, all of them curious to see how I looked, including Evalyn. I took the teasing in stride and played along. Why not? I was among friends, and the center of attention. When they pushed clothes at me, I tried them on, and even shook my booty at them. Heck, I was the show! It would all be over soon enough, and I'd be back to my male self. Evalyn called me aside during a break in the action. She said, "You're taking this very well. I'm impressed." "Do you think I might win the contest?" I asked in a soft, exaggerated falsetto, swiveling my padded hips. She laughed. "I'd say that you have a great chance. There's someone I'd like you to meet at the party, my brother in law, Leonard." "The R&D VP?" "Yes. Just do what you're doing now and have some fun. I know he'd enjoy seeing this." I was sure that Evalyn knew I was straight, so it couldn't have been what it sounded like. "It's not a problem for me," I said. The women took me out late that night for a couple of drinks at one of those bars where anything goes. I danced with the girls; they danced with me. I even danced with a couple of the guys that asked me. One of them wanted to separate me from the girl-pack, but I begged off easily, telling him that I had a boyfriend. The rest of my crew stared, or hid their faces as they watched to see how I dealt with it, but I was less worried than they were. I knew that Modesty, Su Mi and the rest wouldn't allow me to come to harm. For stretches, and especially after they had a couple of drinks, some of the women forgot for a moment that I was really a guy. They would say things they wouldn't have otherwise, and then, in a rush of embarrassment, remember who I was. It was fascinating, and exciting in a way, but enough was enough, and I left when Modesty asked me if I wanted to go, leaving the rest behind. It wasn't far to my townhouse, and Modesty walked me to the door. I keyed the entrance and set the packages the department had bought for me inside. "You handled yourself very well, you know," Modesty said. Her brown eyes shone wide and deep under the dim porch light, and I thought that her perfect legs under the short business skirt must surely join triumphantly. Then I thought of mathematics, for that last line of thought had drawn pain inside the gaff. I said, "I'd ask you inside, but I really need to take a shower. After all those perfume tests downtown, I smell like a two-dollar whore, and despite the way I look tonight, I'm not ready to be your girl friend." She smiled, and pulled out a purple package wrapped with a pink ribbon from her purse. "I wouldn't want that either. You know, you've experienced what very few men have. For a time, I think you were one of us." "Whatever happened tonight, when the party is over, I'll be back to Charlie, sophisticated man of the world." "Good." She handed the package to me. "This is something to remember us by, a gift from all of us for being a good sport. Open this tonight. Do what you like with it, but after this weekend, I'd like you out of skirts, permanently." She took my face in her hands and kissed me. Her real breasts squeezed between my fleshy globes. She tasted of cherries, while I tasted like strawberry. We made a cocktail for a while, and then I had to back away, doubling over as little Charlie betrayed me. I waved her off as she tried to help me up. "It's the gaff!" I groaned. "I must have put it on wrong." "Oh! I'm so sorry," she said, her hand flying to her face to conceal a chuckle. "Charlie, I'd be pleased if you should ask me out again." "What about that pact all of you made?" I gasped. "As far as I'm concerned, it was broken when we invited you to the bar." She kissed me, this time on the cheek. "Evalyn will be round about ten to help with your clothes and make-up. I'll see you at the party. Until then, bye." With a wave she was gone. Inside again, I shrugged off the shoes with relief and got out of my clothes, then hung up my costume for tomorrow in the bathroom. It wasn't enough to come as a woman, they'd decided: I was to be an airline stewardess. I took a long hot shower after removing the make-up, noting sardonically, my smooth legs and arms, and the breasts that, as far as I could tell, hung, moved and wiggled like the real thing. Of course, I couldn't feel them, and I wished that Modesty's were there instead, attached to her, naturally. After the shower, with the mist on the mirror, I looked at myself again. With my lower half concealed by the counter, I could have been a girl, and the stewardess uniform behind me enhanced the illusion. Just before I hit the sack, I remembered to open the package Modesty had given me. It was a red translucent nighty. I almost laughed. I might have predicted it. It had been an experience, the oddest form of comradery I'd every known. ~Well, this is the end of it.~ I slipped it on, watching the fake boobs fill it out. For the moment, I imagined that I played for a very different team, with Modesty, Su Mi, Carmen and the rest. Knowing that I would never feel this way again, I went to bed wearing it, allowing myself to feel the slick way it moved against my skin, on what would surely be my last connection to women, at least from that perspective. I awoke in late morning. Rolling out of bed, I took off the nighty and packed it away. I had a hangover and I needed some coffee. Except for the breast forms hanging from my chest and the shock of blonde hair, it could have been a normal day. It was over, and I suspected that the Halloween party that night would be utterly anti-climactic. Evalyn showed up around ten o'clock. I thought about flashing her with my store bought breasts at the door, but wasn't quite sure enough of my boss's sense of humor to do it. "Good morning, Evalyn," I said, curtseying in my bathrobe. "You're cheerful today," she observed. We went straight to work. Evalyn was either an expert, or applying make- up was easier than I thought it was, because she took no longer than the woman at the salon. I managed with the clothes, this time being more careful with the gaff. By mid-afternoon, we were both ready. Evalyn left my townhouse wearing a thick 19th century dress with a Civil War feel to it, and hair pulled back into a bun, all of which she wore as naturally as if it were her everyday business garb. She drove me to my car, which was still parked at the office across town, explaining on the way who would be at the party, and, once again, bringing up Leonard, with whom, she emphasized, I should be especially careful to make a good impression. I wondered at that. "Should I be flattered? I can't have impressed anyone yet. I've only been with Mengstrom for a couple of months." "All I'm saying is that it can't hurt for a girl to make a good impression," she said with a half smile. "By the way, did you wear your gift last night?" "I'll never tell," I said, feeling the blood rush to my face. "Uh, huh," she said, turning up a corner of her mouth ever so slightly. We drove in separate cars to the party, a modern ranch-style estate in the country, the home of a VP. After adjusting my stewardess cap in the mirror, I checked in at the gate, presented my employee ID, and grinned for the guard as he gave me a very close look. About two hundred people were there, nearly all Mengstrom employees and their spouses. At dusk, it was still warm, so I left my coat inside the car. Being relatively new to the company, I had plenty of looks and glances at my name tag. "Charlie" was sufficiently gender-vague to keep them in doubt. I'd been told that it was customary to stay in character, so I kept it that way. I found Modesty and Su Mi together outside by the pool, and joined them for a while. They introduced me to a few of their friends. I liked most of them; the company policy seemed to select their "family" as much by temperament as skills. I left sooner than I liked, but as a new hire, I had an obligation to mix -- and I had a meeting with Leonard Mengstrom. The entrance to the main house adjoining the pool opened to what could have been a ballroom, and perhaps it was on occasion. The marble floor extended far enough to accommodate a couple of hundred guests. The last third was raised two steps, effectively separating it from the rest, and on that dais were the hosts and owners. A quick head count showed that most of the Mengstroms, if not all, were there that night -- about four dozen men and women. I'd met a few of the men, and noted the resemblance; seeing them all assembled emphasized it. They were mainly lean, tall, and refined, their hair tending from Danish brown to blond. The Mengstroms preferred period piece clothing, it seemed, mainly European, usually a hundred years old or more. Together, they were a historical melange with costumes from Versailles, the courts of European capitals, and military uniforms from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They wore their costumes as if they lived in them, without self- consciousness. A few of the older women glided about in elaborate dresses of silk and silver trim, effortlessly balancing intricately bound up wigs, structures, really, of curls and ornaments that might have totalled a dozen pounds. The costumes and make-up were, as far as I could tell, completely authentic. Even the shoes, boots, and slippers had a "broken- in" appearance. I made a few final adjustments to my stewardess skirt and coat, and mounted the stairs. I imagined entering a world of aristocracy and servants. As the newest employee, Evelyn had assured me, I was expected to meet some of the owners and management, and I still had to meet the mysterious Leonard Mengstrom, whom I didn't know by sight. ~Be polite and easy. Stay in character, but don't be an idiot with it.~ Among the devils, cats and vampires, I was fine, but here I felt a little embarrassed at the way I looked, a guy in modern day skirts among visions of the past. A woman in one of the voluminous Versailles dresses, watched me as I approached. Her name, according to the name tag just below her well-supported breasts, was "Florence." "Charlie Heller," she said, reading my name, and bade me closer with the fan in her hand. I remembered her now. Underneath the white face and heavy rouge, she was a senior manager in marketing. With so many women up close, I thought I spotted a family resemblance even there. The Mengstroms were a secretive bunch, but it had to mean that they must search for mates in the same places. It had to be tradition; the alternative would mean more inbreeding than an Appalachian family. "Yes, Ms. Mengstrom. I'm a new tech writer," I said in my soft, fairly passable woman's voice. She smiled, instantly old-world gracious. "I've heard of you. Welcome to M.I. I hope you like it here." We spoke for a few minutes, mainly small talk and current events. She knew I was a man, but she treated me as if I were the person I pretended to be. Gradually, other Mengstroms came closer and conversed, and some watched. When I began to get nervous at the attention, they backed away, nonetheless, I had the sense that I was being examined. I didn't see Leonard there, and eventually, I excused myself. By then it was dark, and the two hundred or so employees, spouses, and significant others were scattered all over the estate grounds. I walked around with a drink in my hand, meeting new people, shocking a few with my impersonation. After an hour or so, I figured I'd done my duty. I wanted to get back to the familiar faces of my department, especially Modesty. I went to the second floor balcony, a dark alcove overlooking the southern terrace, the pool, and a catered barbecue to search for them. "Good evening, Ms. Heller," spoke a man's voice from behind me. I turned, smiling automatically when I saw his name. "So you're Leonard Mengstrom. Good evening to you, sir." He was about the same height as me in heels, and appeared around thirty with the streaked blonde hair and the aquiline features of his family. He wore a nineteenth century U.S. Cavalry uniform of blue with gold epaulets. Like the others, he might have worn it for years. He looked me straight in the face for a moment, a hair too direct for comfort. I adjusted my flight attendant hat and went into my act. "All box cutters and other bladed weapons must be stowed in the overhead compartment," I said, pointing around an imaginary aircraft with both hands. "All shoe bombs and Kalashnikovs should be turned in at this time." He smiled. "Very nice, and I like your costume." He handed me a glass, which I refused. "Thanks, but I've had a stiff one tonight already, and I'm driving back." He waved his hand. "It's non-alcoholic. Try it." I did, to be nice, drinking about half. It tasted fruity with a peculiar tang that I couldn't identify. "It's good. What is it?" "A special recipe. It's been in the family for ... a long time, and it's quite rare." "Too bad. It tastes good enough to market, Mr. Mengstrom." "Call me Leonard. How do you like the party so far, Ms. Heller?" "Very much. I've met a lot of very nice people, your sister in law, Florence, her cousin Gerold --" "Yes, it's a big family. I've heard good things about you, Ms. Heller." "Thank you -- ah, Leonard. I'm flattered, but I'm not sure that I've done anything to deserve the attention; I'm still learning the ropes. There are others I can name in my department who are doing a wonderful job: Carmen and Ellen, for instance." "I like that. You aren't averse to giving credit where it's due." He pointed to my glass with his own. "Go ahead, finish it off." "All right, sure." He watched me drain the glass, then continued, "It's not so much about what you can do now. It's more about your potential. You have certain ... qualities. We'll get to that soon enough, but first, how do like working for us?" We spoke for a while. He was easy to talk to. Gradually, I forgot about why I was at the balcony. The world closed in so slowly that I never noticed, until there was only Leonard and me. The topic changed to more personal affairs: how I felt about politics, family, and friends. I had his face memorized. It was refined, but strong in the way of his family, startlingly deep blue eyes, and neatly groomed hair. His voice was smooth and compelling. Before long my universe faded as if I were in the midst of fog until there was only the darkness outside -- and Leonard. I put my hand to my forehead to make sure I was real. "Ms. Heller, you must be tired," came his words, like a reflection of my own mind. "Come inside and sit down. We can talk there." "Yes. Yes, I am tired. Thank you." Taking my arm, he led me onto a sofa. I barely felt it when I sat. "Charlie Heller." I looked up, still locked in a fog. "Yes?" "Charlie could easily be a nickname for 'Charlene,' don't you think?" I agreed vaguely that it could be, and further agreed, when he asked, that tonight I looked more like Charlene than Charlie. "I'll call you Charlene. This evening, it's more appropriate. You are a pretty woman, Charlene." I hesitated, but a voice so smooth and melodious couldn't have meant me harm. His eyes willed me to accept the compliment, and I blushed, pleased that he liked the way I looked. "Thank you, Leonard," I replied, instantly getting a queasy feeling in my gut. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "Is there something wrong with being a pretty woman?" he demanded. The thought that I might be disappointing him was almost painful. "Oh, no!" "Are you too shy to take a compliment? Surely you have seen yourself in the mirror. You must know that you're a pretty woman." I drank his words like water. ~Yes. Of course, I know what I look like!~ The legs sticking out under the skirt and the blonde hair that flowed over both ears was plenty of reminder. "Thank you, Leonard. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight. I feel very odd." "It's nothing to be concerned about. As I was saying, it's not so much what you are now, it's your potential." He raised his hand. "No questions. It's confusing you now, but it's perfectly normal when looking at the long-term." "The long term, yes," I repeated, not understanding, but knowing that it had to be true. "Charlene," he said. I looked up. His face demanded all my attention. "Last night, you went to a bar with the other women in your department. You danced and drank and had a wonderful time together. How did it feel?" "Yes. We danced and had a wonderful time." ~How did it feel?~ "We were close, closer than I'd ever been. It was ... very nice." A corner of my mind tried to tell me something was awry, but it was easy to ignore. What I'd said was true, and whatever it was concerned about couldn't have been too important, else I would have remembered. "You danced with the other women and one or two of the men." "I did," I said, remembering it like a dream. "We had a great time." His eyes were on me like twin spotlights. "Yes, you did. Now, tell me truthfully, were you embarrassed at this girls' night out?" Truth? It shone through the darkness like a beacon. "Not at all," I said easily, unable to take my eyes from his face. The darkness covered nearly nearly everything, now. My universe included this man and me, and little else mattered.. He sat back and nodded. "Your name is Charlene Heller." "My name is Charlene Heller," I said, and it was. He stood and offered me his hand. "Come. Follow me. I have something to show you." Save for the man who pulling me along, all was a blur. I was Charlene Heller, and Leonard thought I was pretty. Down a hall we went. We turned into a room. He flipped back a panel and, not bothering to hide it, punched in a four-digit combination. A block of paneling slid aside, revealing a narrow elevator. We stepped inside and descended. When it stopped, we walked out into a spacious room with blue walls of painted concrete. I noticed a few chairs, a table, and a computer, but was incurious, and it faded into the background. He turned to me, taking both of my hands. "I've waited a long time for you." I furrowed my brows in thought, but it was hard to think. "Leonard?" "Accept it," he said. I believed him, although I didn't know why. He had waited for me -- and I had never known. It didn't seem right, although it had to be so -- except: ~Why had he been waiting for me?~ "It's a long strange road we Mengstroms take, a very long road for me," he went on to explain, as if I had voiced a question, "I was selective." He smiled brilliantly, and placed his hand to my cheek. "You really are remarkably pretty just the way you are. Listen closely and accept. You've been very attracted to me from the moment you first saw me, and you want to kiss me." It was true. He was an attractive man, and my attention focused on his lips. "Leonard," I whispered, leaning forward. At first the kiss was foreign, as he was more aggressive than what I remembered being used to, but I wanted to kiss him, and I eased into it, adjusting myself to his rhythm. "Not bad," he said, "and even better that it's only a glimpse of what you'll be like later. I think you'll do very well. But one more test, Charlene." He unlaced his shoes and took them off, then unzipped his pants and let them fall. Slipping out of his underwear, he showed me himself, already hard and ready. I stared, not really thinking in that fog. Does he expect me to...? I was desperately uneasy with this picture, but wasn't sure why. I couldn't have moved, even to walk away. "I think that I'll desire you very much, but I have to be sure. Listen to me," Leonard said, his hands on his hips. I listened, and all vague impulses of revulsion and terror were thrust aside. "Yes, Leonard. I'm listening." "Go to your knees and take me in your mouth. Suck me. Pleasure me with your tongue and lips. You want to do it very much. You want to please me." I sagged to my knees and looked at his manhood. I wanted to do what he said. And yet, a part of me, mostly locked away behind bars in the dark, looked at it too, and was repelled. There it was, a man's shaft, solid and tall. I reached over and took it in my hand. It was warm and twitched like a live thing. I swallowed and bit my lip as I drew close to the head, so very close, and a trace of panic percolated from somewhere very deep. I wanted to do it! But why? I looked up, hoping that he had changed his mind, but his hands were on his hips, and his eyes were aflame. "Do it, Charlene! You want it. You want to please me. Take me in your mouth, now!" Tentatively, I pushed forward and, in one motion, surrounded him, bringing him inside my mouth. He was bigger than I'd imagined, and the shape and feel of it took me aback. I had no idea what to do with it, but I wanted to please, I started slowly, drawing him back until I almost gagged. This was something I'd never done, I was certain! Still, I kept on and my proficiency increased, making him grunt and place his hands on my head, and the joy of pleasing him warred and eventually defeated the voices now screaming at me from the shadows. He began to breath heavily, and tightened his grip, directing me as he came close, forcing me to finish him in his power. I did, backing away as his salty seed filled my mouth in a series of hard spurts, but he held my head firm, giving me no option other than to swallow it. I loved the way I'd pleasured him -- or did I? It wasn't right! Or was it? Still within the depths of that haze, I was more confused. He heaved a final sigh when it was over and put on his clothes again. I remained on my knees, breathing heavily. "That was good," he said, "very good. You have pleased me. Now, come with me." I followed. Leonard swung back a solid steel door, and we passed into a room that even my fogged brain noticed was unusual. In a huge bed of soil the size of a small lawn stood a plant like no other I'd ever seen or heard of. Its trunk was broad like a tree, with branches and enormous leaves, but legume smooth and celery green. It was as large as a medium- sized tree, with four of its lower branches bent to the ground, ending in mottled brown and yellow pods, each large enough to contain a person. "What is this?" I managed to ask. He jerked his head around, surprised to hear me speak. "This is what I wanted to show you," he said, pointing to the plant. He pulled a pill out from his pocket, and handed it to me. "Take this." He folded my fingers around it. "Listen, Charlene. You will not remember anything past our meeting on the balcony. Take this pill and swallow it." Watching Leonard the whole time, I stared into his blue eyes and looked for a reason to disobey, but I saw only reassurance. I put the pill in my mouth and swallowed. Seconds later he caught me in his arms. I felt myself being undressed. He lay me down into a slick, fleshy container, one of the pods. Still conscious but unable to move, it closed around me, adjusting itself to my form and oozing a thick liquid that steadily climbed over my mouth, then my nose. Soon I couldn't breathe or do more than twitch in my defense. Straining for air brought the stuff inside. As I lay smothering, I recalled my life: my parents, who had died a few years before, my friends -- and my last thought before I passed into panicky blackness was Modesty. Now I would never know.