Tales From The Frog-Lady: Part 1 Of 2 - Wedding Night free porn video

Notes: This is the revised version of my previously published story. Thanks to Mr. Ram for pointing to a mistake, just for you to know my problem, in Portuguese ladder is "escada" and stair is "escada", so you see why I do these silly mistakes once or twice. This is the first part of a two part story, but both can be read as independent stories (of course, they are more fun if read in the right sequence), this is why I marked it "finished" in the form. The second part, called "A night out" will be posted in revised form in the next few days. I also improved a bit the manuscript. I adapted some of the changes I made in the Portuguese manuscript(posted with the title "Noite de n?pcias", as always, in http://trasform-sylvia.blogspot.com). There are some parts which cannot be translated, so they were not included in this version. If you know S?o Paulo I suggest you read the Portuguese version. Wedding night by Sylvia Wechsel My story begins one night, when I was driving on the way to a pub party. It was already one year since my last girlfriend broke with me and during this entire period I spent my days and nights at home, healing the depression and missing the lost love. My friends kept calling me to get out and they were so insistent that, finally, I agreed. Maybe I could meet some nice girl and forget that ungrateful bitch, but I was not expecting too much in that matter. Half the way from my home to the pub I stopped at a red light. There was no one in the crossing and I considered passing that red signal, but then I decided not to do so, it is not on me to disobey rules. I was completely alone, no one walking around in the street and no car in sight, so I became quite surprised when I felt the bump of another car ramming at the back of mine. I remember thinking, "Where do this car came from?" I looked at the rear mirror and saw a blue antique Volkswagen beetle, maybe a 1971 or 1972 model. I climbed out of my car and inspected the damage. It was not that much, just a slight fender-bender, but I realized that the cost would be much greater for me than for the old lady who was driving that beetle. I also realized that it was very difficult to expect that the lady and/or her car were insured, so I, would most probably, stick with the bill. The lady finally climbed out of her beetle. There is a sort of child's play in which one looks at the face of another person and tries to "guess" which animal it resembles. There are people who have a "dog"-like face, others a "cat"-like and there are even "fish"-like people. That lady definitely remembered me of a frog. I am usually a calm and moderate person, but maybe due to the frustration of my emotional problems, I lost my temper. I began yelling at the lady. I am not sure what I said to her, but at one point I called her "frog." Her eyes hardened instantaneously and it was clear to me that she didn't like that. Before I could even regret and apologize, she said: "Young man, you need to learn to have more respect for the elderly." Immediately after she said that I felt dizzy and had to close my eyes, in order not to loose consciousness. When I opened my eyes again I was facing a double-leaf wooden door. There was a man holding my right arm as in a chain, elbow in elbow, I looked at him. He had gray hair and was in morning dress. Afraid of what I would find I quickly looked down inspecting my own body and saw that I was wearing a fancy long white sleeveless dress, decorated with lace at some points, but not as if I was in drag, as the magnificent pair of breasts, half visible in the dress cleavage, proved. My left arm, the one that was free, was covered up to the elbow with some sort of white glove, but this glove had holes, so that my fingers were free and visible. I was carrying a sort of flower arrangement in the left hand (the one that was not "hooked" to the man), evidently a bouquet. My nails were long and painted in a bright red color. I twisted my neck as far as I could and tried to look back. I sensed that the dress had a long tail and that I had a sort of veil which was probably attached to my hair. Speaking about my hair, the weight in my head showed that it was long, but it was arranged somehow, since I could move my head and the hair wasn't falling around. My lips were covered with some substance and tasting it I recognized that I was wearing lipstick. I could sense that my face was also covered with some substance and I realized I was wearing make up. That was it, the "frog"- lady somehow transported me to a wedding and I was occupying the body of the bride. The man (my "father"?), noticing my movements asked: "Honey, are you feeling alright?" My first impulse was to flee from that spot, but thanks God I was frozen in the place, so I was able to think better about my situation before I could move. Where to would I flee? I was in a girl's body, with no idea about who she was and this kind of dress surely came with no place to hide money. After I could think straight I realized my best option was to keep doing what the girl was supposed to do. The last words I heard from the "frog"-lady implied that this was some kind of lesson she wanted to teach me, so maybe this would end at some point. This all came to my head in less than one second, so I answered to "my father": "Y..yes, I'm OK, just a little nervous" I was already expecting to hear a woman's voice, but it was weird hearing the words I spoke with another one's voice. "Don't worry, dear, soon it will all be over," he answered. "God hears you," I silently thought. Soon after he finished talking we heard the church bells and in sequence the church organ started playing the first chords of the wedding march. After that the doors opened and I saw a fully occupied church and the groom waiting at the altar. I couldn't resolve his face since the girl (that is, me) seemed to suffer from slight astigmatism and wasn't wearing her glasses (of course, which bride would marry using glasses?). I tried to walk a step ahead, lifting my right leg. When I lowered it again, I did as I was used to, with my heel almost touching the ground simultaneously with my foot tip. Before I could finish my movement the tip of the shoe heel hit the ground forming the fulcrum of a lever, which projected me backwards. I would have fallen down backwards if it were not for "my father" supporting me. Of course, I was wearing high heel shoes and their sizes were probably exaggerated. He said: "Hush, don't hurry, we have the entire wedding march to walk the aisle." I blushed after he said that, he was thinking I was in a hurry to get married. With short and cautious steps, and initially using his support, I began walking towards the altar. Since the growth explosion in my puberty I was used to observe the world down from my 1.92m height. This girl had to wear long size heels and even so she was a bit smaller than her father, who wasn't particularly tall. I guessed she was, at best, 1.60m tall. We slowly walked the aisle and I saw the faces of the guests, a bunch of unknown faces which smiled at me as if they knew me all life long (what was probably the truth for that girl). The walk seemed to take the eternity, but after some steps I became more confident in walking over those heels and "my father" released a bit his grip. As I approached the altar I had a better view of the groom and had to admit that he was handsome. His look clearly transmitted to me that he loved deeply that girl. We reached the altar just before the last chords of the wedding march and "my father" delivered me to the groom and assumed his place near "my mother," who was, of course, crying. The church wasn't roman catholic, the reason I knew this was because the priest was a woman. She began the religious ceremony reading something from the Bible and quickly my mind disconnected from her words. I was already thinking what I would do when she asked me if I wanted to marry that guy, who I didn't even know the name (God, I didn't even know my, I mean, the girl's, name!) . My first impulse, again, was to say "no," but then I thought about what the frog-lady said. If this was a lesson to me, maybe the girl was occupying my own body by now. Eventually the punishment would end and we would exchange bodies again. I couldn't do this to her, to humiliate her and the groom in front of all guests by giving up the marriage. I concluded it was better to play the part of the girl, as if she was herself and latter try to avoid the nuptial bed until we swapped bodies. After all, she was entitled to her "happily ever after" after all this ended. The ceremony quickly progressed to the part of the vows, then the priestess asked me: "Catherine Donna J..., do you accept this man, Donald R... as your rightful husband?" Then I felt everybody was looking anxiously to me, including the groom. That was the moment, I felt a chill in my spine, but I had already decided to do this, so I answered: "Yes, I do, so help me God." This last part I introduced by myself, improvising. It was a cry of despair, in reality, but if the priestess or the groom found strange my statement, they gave no signs of this. At least now I knew "my" name, as well as the name of the groom. The priestess than turned towards Donald and asked him: "Donald R..., do you accept this woman, Catherine Donna J... as your rightful wife?" "Yes, I do, so help me God," he answered, repeating my improvised formula. The priestess asked for the rings, blessed them and gave us, first to Donald, saying "Repeat with me, with this ring I take you as my wife...." And she gave the full version of the Wedding vows. Donald repeated, looking into my eyes and transpiring love, and inserted the ring in my left annular finger. Then the priestess turned towards me and said: "Repeat with me, with this ring I take you as my husband..." I am not a particularly religious person, but that oath worried me. If I took those vows, was I, I mean Carl S... doing so, assuming the compromise before God, or could I do it in the name of Catherine? I, however, had no option and I repeated the words. Mentally I told God that I was saying that as Catherine's representative, since she was unavailable. After that the priestess said: "With the power given to me by the church of Christ, I here pronounce you as husband and wife, may God give you long and fertile life." "What God united, may the man not break," she continued, praying, and completed, looking to Donald, "you may now kiss the bride." I did forgot that part, I was almost in panic. He was going to kiss me! I prepared myself in spirit to gently touch our lips, but Donald had other ideas. He put one hand in my neck and held my shoulder with the other and gave me a full french kiss. I felt his tongue entering my mouth. Unable to think and I started to play along, almost instinctively. I was kissing a man, and this in public! As to reinforce my shame, the church did burst into applause. I am sure I blushed again. Thanks God the legal part of the marriage had occurred a few days before. I didn't know what would happen if I had to sign a document as Catherine right at that moment. So the ceremony was over, me and Donald were married. Donald addressed the audience and invited everybody for the wedding party. First I thought "Oh God, a party...," but then I remembered that this would delay the nuptial bed part, so, to the party then. The organ played a joyful music and we walked out of the church. The pace was faster than in the entrance, maybe because the rhythm was faster, maybe because Donald was impatient. I had trouble following him in those heels at that speed, but managed to arrive unharmed at the church door. Donald had a smile from ear to ear, me on the other hand, had surely a more serious look. Later I discovered that the people noticed that, but assumed my sober face was a consequence of my nervous state. The first hindrance I met was a small stair with just five steps outside the church door. I quickly noticed that if I tried to walk that ladder as I was doing I would fatally step over the hemline of my dress and the fall would be unavoidable. Thanks God I was thinking at that moment. I loosed my hand from Donald's and raised with both hands the lower part of my dress and all the underskirts bellow, until I could see the tip of my shoe (which was white, of course). Carefully then I descended that stair one step at a time. This way I managed to arrive unharmed outside the church. There was another stair leading to the street. I repeated the procedure and finally I was out in the street. As soon as I finished climbing down the last stair, Donald took my hand again. We remained there waiting for something, which tuned out to be a limousine. As it parked in front of us, I saw my reflection for the first time at the window. The image was a bit distorted, but I realized that Catherine was pretty. As I had already sensed, I had an intricate hair arrangement over my head, showing that my hair size was quite long. The veil came out from the back of my head as if it were emanating from the hair arrangement. Donald opened the door so I could enter. I got confused again. I had no idea how would I put that huge dress hemline and all underskirts inside the car. Finally I decided to sit down with the feet outside the car, to retrieve them later. Before I could do this a lady, the same which had been at the altar (and concluded she was my bridesmaid), helped me put my feet and the tail of the dress inside the car. Donald entered at the other side and took my hand again. It seemed that he believed I would flee any moment on (it is scary to think how close to the truth he was). The car departed and I began looking outside the window, trying to recognize any geographical landmark which would help me discover were I was. It took some time, but finally I recognized something. I had never been in that city before, but I recognized that place from pictures. It turned out that I was over 1000Km away from my own body. So much for the idea to run away and to locate the frog-lady in order to force her to reverse the spell. I would need to carry on with this as much as I could. We drove for about half an hour and the driver parked the limousine outside a quite illuminated place. It was some kind of fancy party buffet and I concluded the wedding party would take place there. Donald rushed out of the car and before I could think what I would do he was opening my door and giving me his hand, to aid me getting out of the car, a perfect gentleman. The five or ten meters of rough walkway between the car and the buffet entrance was a torture with those heels, but I managed to get there without falling to the ground. As we entered the room all personnel burst into applause. I was caught by surprise with that manifestation and felt that I was blushing again. We were conducted to one of the walls and told to wait there. Quickly a long queue began forming, with Donald's parents in front, "my" parents next, the bestman and the bridesmaid, and so on. This was the compliment ceremony. I received "my" parents-in-law compliments, then it was time for "my" own parents. My mother was, as before, crying. I felt the need to hug her, I knew she was crying out of joy, but I never stood the sight of a crying woman, I felt my own eyes getting wet and had a lot of trouble not to start crying myself. Next came the bridesmaid, she hugged me and whispered close to my ear: "Don't forget my advice for tonight!" I had no clue who she was (later I discovered that she was my, I mean, Catherine's, sister), but that statement confused me. I had only a glance of my own face at the limousine's window back in the church, but this was enough for me to conclude that Catherine was no young girl. I guessed she was at least 20 year old (later discovered I was 21 years old) and surely an experienced woman. I had no idea what kind of advice that lady could give her, specially because it was implicit that she meant the "going to bed" part of the evening. The compliment ceremony took at least 20 minutes before the queue came to an end. I had never been so much kissed in my cheek before. After that we were conducted to a place behind the wedding cake. Donald took a Champagne bottle and tried to open it. He was in trouble and I almost offered my help, but I realized that Catherine's muscles were surely tiny and I would just make a fool out of me if I tried to open that bottle. So I let Donald do that undisturbed. Finally he succeeded and cups were filled. We both got one and I sipped on mine. The alcohol rushed to my head. Apparently Catherine had her last meal a long time before our swap and I was with empty belly. I finished my cup and a waiter filled it again before I could say no. After the second cup I was already feeling dizzy, but this had a nice result: I finally was able to relax and a few moments later I was smiling without being forced. The rose feeling came to an abrupt end when I noticed the lipstick smudge at the border of my cup, this reminded me once again of my problem. Next there was a long photo section, with almost everybody in the party. When this ended we finally split. Donald went to his friends and I started to walk the saloon, until my bridesmaid took my arm and called me to sit at one of the tables. I was tired. Apart from that 20 minuted in the limousine I had spent the whole time standing, so sitting was welcome. The table had also some snacks over it and I ate some. I was definitely hungry. A waiter came and offered my a glass of whiskey. I was never quite fond of whiskey, but I took it for the alcohol. After the second glass I was already laughing, smiling and telling jokes to the other ladies. My bridesmaid conducted me to the toilette, with the excuse to fix my makeup, but when we arrived there she ordered me to go easy with the alcohol. I realized she was right, I was exaggerating, and that was not a nice idea given what I would have ahead that night. When we returned I decided to walk for a while, so the alcohol would be worn out, but I couldn't do it quite longer, since I was being called for the ceremony of "throwing the bouquet." I had no idea what to do, I, of course, had already attended wedding parties before, but never payed much attention to those girl things. I knew I was expected to throw the bouquet behind my back, but how strong? looking or not looking? Then it happed for the first time: *** I am in the middle of a crowd composed by many women, dressed with fancy gowns. I feel the elbow of my neighbor hitting my right kidney, it is not unintentional. In front of us a bride says : -Three, two, one, go! Immediately after that she throws the bouquet. I see that it is coming in my direction. I jump. I am short, shorter than my neighbors, but somehow I manage to catch the bouquet. Instinctively I bring it towards my belly and protect it with my body, just like rugby players do. I fall to the ground and two other girls, who missed the bouquet only for mere milliseconds, fall over me. After a while, a hand helps me stand up and the girls congratulate me, with obvious jealousy in their eyes. I seek Don in the crowd. As our eyes meet I understand he is thinking the same as me, it is time to schedule our own wedding. After that I wonder why it is so important for me to catch that bouquet, is it, perhaps, the sexual tension due to our purity pledge? The erotic dreams from the previous days seem to point into that direction. Maybe the decision to remain a virgin up to the wedding is not a wise one... *** That was weird. This was a memory, but not mine, it was Catherine's. I decided to call it a "phantom memory." The disturbing fact was that during the whole time I was and felt like Catherine. I felt even the pain when the elbow hit my kidney or when the girls fell over me. I couldn't think of me as Carl. It was like my whole male past had been erased. Besides that dreadful feeling, the phantom memory gave me an important information about Catherine. She (that is, as a consequence, me) was still a virgin. Distracted by these thought it took some time to realize that the girls where calling Catherine's name. As I realized that I threw the bouquet just like the bride had done in my phantom memory. The girls jumped and after a while the victorious one, a girl whose name I was unaware of, appeared the her prize in the hand. Free from the bouquet I was summoned to the middle of the ballroom for the wedding dance. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to dance a waltz wearing those heels, but fact is that Donald is a terribly good dancer. Under his lead I danced the waltz just like if I was a professional. I felt relieved for that. It was nice not being the one leading for a change. At that time it was not clear to me how this realization would be important to me in the future. I danced also with "my" father, with my father-in-law and with the bestman and then I was allowed to rest. The rhythmic movements, the music and the attention not to fall allowed me to relax a bit and after some time I was smiling, without the influence of alcohol. Some time later the cake was parted and distributed to the guests. It was clear to me that the wedding party was coming to an end, what meant we would soon depart for the nuptial bed. I felt a chill in my spine under that thought. As I predicted, soon (much too sooner than I wanted), Donald called me to leave and we went to the car with the guests behind us, wishing goodbye and a nice evening, full of malice in their tongues. This time it was not the limousine, which had departed just after our arrival. I assumed this was "our" car, a brand new fancy Class S Mercedes-Benz, the bestman had driven it to the wedding party, Donald explained to me. Surely Donald had a considerable wealth. I entered in the car and remained silent the whole time. I couldn't get rid from the feeling that I was being conducted to a slaughterhouse. We arrived at a five star hotel and were received by a team of employees, who quickly took care of our extensive luggage. Donald took care of the check in and soon (much too sooner than I wished) we were in front of our nuptial suite. Donald caught me by surprise, raised me in his arms, and carried me inside the room, depositing me over the bed. As he went to the door to dispatch the employee I quickly stood up. My options were quickly fading away and soon I would be requested to do thing for which I wasn't quite prepared. I was almost in panic and remember to think what should I do next, then it happened for the second time: *** Don and me are kissing passionately, only one month separates us from the wedding. Hands are caressing different parts of our body. I feel his hand touching my crotch over my trousers and my own hand was touches his hard penis, hidden by the jeans. I am aroused, and almost give up my decision to keep my virginity up to the wedding. In order not to succumb to this temptation I do the only thing I can think of. I open his zipper, take his hard penis out of the trousers, kneel, and start a blowjob. I am unexperienced, but I had seen many pornographic movies before and I have some idea on how to proceed. I can feel all his penis in my mouth. It is warm and big. The harder I try I can only suck half of the length. I take the other half with my fingers and start masturbating Don. He moans out of pleasure. I feel the penis becoming harder and then he starts to cum inside my mouth... *** That memory was disgusting, I could still feel the taste of his cum and, worse than that. I was aroused. I felt my wet pussy and my nipples pressed hard against my bra or whatever I was wearing under the dress. I needed to be alone for a while to put my thoughts in order and had an idea, I said: "Darling, I need to use the toilet." "OK, I will warm the bed for you." Donald answered, grinning, then he approached and said further: "Let me help you with this" and reached his had to the back side of my dress and opened the concealed zipper. Suddenly the upper part of my dress went loose, since the dress had no sleeves, and I had to hold the front part with my hand so that it wouldn't slip down leaving me almost naked in front of him. Thinking about this now, my behavior was completely absurd. Soon I would be completely naked in front of him, but at that time it was quite important to me to keep my breasts covered with the dress. I realized he was surprised by my actions and, in order not to allow things to get worse I said: "Thanks" and rushed towards the toilet. Maybe so he would think I was in a hurry to satisfy my physiological necessities. After I closed the door I leaned over the sink and observed my face in the mirror. I confirmed my first impression from the reflection in the Limousine's window: I ( meaning Catherine) am pretty. It was not just the careful make up. I could see that Catherine's face was delicate and symmetrical. Catherine was intrinsically beautiful. Noticing the heavy make up I was wearing I considered the first thing I had to do was to get rid from that, but how to do this?Then it happened for the third time: *** I look at my face in the mirror, the result isn't good. A red smudge covers the border of my mouth and I am looking like some weird clown. I am already a 11 year old girl and cannot do a simple lipstick application. I realize I am in trouble, when I hear my mother opening the front door. I try to wash readily that mess before she discovers I had "borrowed" again her makeup stuff, but I am not fast enough. She opens the bathroom's door and finds me. I am already preparing for the usual yelling section, but her hard face softens and she says something quite surprising: "OK, I have to admit, you are already a young lady" and smiles. This allows me to relax a bit and then she says: "First let me show you how to properly clean a makeup, here, you take this liquid and a handful cotton..." *** As people uses to say "all good things come in three." I would complete and say "the bad things too." After my third experience with this "phantom memories" I was shaking and my heartbeat was in the roof. I was in panic and almost hyperventilating. It is difficult to explain in words what I was feeling at that moment, but during these experiences I couldn't remember I was me. For all effects I was Catherine. I considered what I would do if these experiences got more frequent (and it seemed at that time this was the case). If all of Catherine's memories returned, would I still be me, or would I be Catherine? This was a question of survival, the survival of my personality. I considered if this wasn't part of the process of return to my own body, but if this was the case, why wasn't I getting glimpses of myself in another place? No I couldn't risk oblivion. I decided I needed strong memories as myself in Catherine's body, so as to work like some sort of anchor for my personality. Suddenly it was clear to me what I had to do. As my mother did in the last phantom memory I take a handful cotton from the drawer (the hotel employees had quickly and efficiently installed our things in the rooms we did the check in) and embeds it in the cleaning product. Carefully I remove all the makeup. Only then I notice I have blue eye. This makes me feel happy. Then I touch my hair and find the hair clips which are holding the arrangement together. I loosen them. My hair, free from the constraints, slips down over my shoulder. I realize my first estimate is right, my hair is long and extends down to my waist, even considering it is still curly from the hairstyling. I take off the dress and noticed I am wearing a white corset. I consider undressing it, but remembering my past male experiences I realize the effect will be stronger if I keep it instead. The corset is tied to white stockings through garter belts. I decide to keep them too, but remove the panties I am wearing. Finally, as I already noticed before, I am wearing white high heeled shoes. I decide to keep them as well. So I open the toilet door and enter the sleeping room. I try to move as seductive as I can, but feel I am failing miserably, since I have no experience in that matter. Donald is waiting for me, lying in the bed. As he sees me his penis immediately grow, becoming hard. I am scared with what I am about to do, but I feel somehow flattered knowing that he is excited just by my sight. I approach the bed, leans over him an gently kiss him, touching our lips. He continues that and changes to a full french kiss. This time I am prepared and reply to that kissing him with more passion. I lay on my back at his side and he moves over me. He releases my breasts from the corset and begins sucking my nipples. I feel my pussy getting wet. I am afraid, but this don't prevent me getting aroused. He approaches the tip of his penis from the opening of my vagina and I feel something like an electric shock as the tip touches my flesh. I feel the tip is not in the right position, so I direct it with my left hand, until it matches completely the opening. After that Donald gently pushes his penis against my body and I hold my breath as I feel every centimeter of his penis parting my vaginal muscles for the first time. I am being deflowered. The sensations were awesome. Up to that point I was still afraid, but after the first stroke I relaxed. He began his to-and-fro movement and I realized I was already moaning out of pleasure. It was not just the female physical pleasure of feeling a hard penis inside me. This was great, of course, but I guess it was comparable with the pleasure I felt when I was myself a man penetrating a woman. The most exciting part, at least for me, was that I was not the one leading. This responsibility belonged to Donald. I was just receiving and, somehow, this was more exciting than the sex itself. Donald continued trusting his penis harder inside me and I felt the pleasure growing. Then something happened. I felt like I was convulsing but this was limited inside my vagina and realized I was having my first female orgasm, soon after that I felt Donald cumming inside me. This was more exciting than all the rest together. I was expecting to feel something when he first entered, but got disappointed because I felt no sign of breaking my hymen. I considered if Catherine lied about being a virgin, but soon dismissed this idea. I had access to her memories and she wouldn't surely lie to herself about that. Some days later I researched informations and read that as women grew older, their hymens became increasingly damaged and thin. At my age it would have almost disappeared. So that was it, I lost my virginity and didn't feel it as a special moment. After the joint orgasms we departed from each other and I felt tired. Probably due to the stress I felt the whole night, suddenly relieved due to the sexual pleasure. This made me feel exhausted and I must have fall asleep a few seconds after we split apart. *** One year latter I'm preparing for the wedding anniversary "party." Don will arrive from work and we will spend both the whole night in bed. I'm waiting him wearing a corset, stockings, garter belts and high heeled shoes. I wear make up, but my hair is free, just like he enjoys. The only difference from our wedding night is that corset, stockings and shoes are red. This makes me feel naughty. We will go straight to bed and spend the whole night there. It is amazing how well I adapted to my new situation, even to wearing glasses. After that first night I must confess I became addicted to sex and we hardly missed one day without making love. So, no wonder that I'm already six weeks pregnant. He doesn't know. I will tell him tonight. Catherine studied psychology at the university. I decided to drop studies and remain taking care of the house. Not that I have too much to take care, we have employees for everything and I just "supervise." My parents-in-law as well as my own parents approved my decision, I am rich, so I should take care of my babies. Don doesn't like that, neither do I. The real reason for my decision was that, even with the phantom-memories I could not practice psychology. As soon as my baby grows old enough to get out of my breasts I will return to the university, maybe I enter some engineering course and resumes my carrier from the point I left being Carl. Catherine's phantom memories kept appearing without warning, but, after I realized how much I enjoyed being a woman, their impact was less traumatic. With the time I recognized a "pattern" in their incidence: each time I needed some information about Catherine's previous life (for example, the name of that dear aunt I met in my mother's anniversary), one of those phantom memories appeared to give me the information I needed. They are becoming less frequent and I suppose this is happening because this is, after all, my life now, so Catherine's memories are no longer needed. From time to time I watch the footage that was taken from the wedding party. I was probably in a state of shock that day, because I didn't realized we were getting filmed. When I watch it with my guests (mother, sister and so on) they all comment how tense I was, and I assure them that I was anxious and nervous. Only I recognize the shear terror and the panic in my own eyes. Also from time to time I think about the frog-lady. Part of me would enjoy beating her to death for what she had done to me, but another part would probably say "thank you" for the wonderful life she gave me. I'm much better now, and even when I think about my ex- girlfriend, this feeling gets pale compared to the love I feel for Don. That's right, I love him. I must confess, first it was just lust, but with the time his dedication towards me came insinuating insinuating in my brain and when I saw, I was already hooked. I guess my late mom (Carl's mom, not Catherine's, well, this is complicate) was right, love comes with time. I also often think about Catherine. Maybe someday we will meet, the only two persons in the whole world who clearly understand what happened. I know her address (well, she knows mine!), but I never went through with this idea because part of me is afraid that she isn't happy and that she finds a way to swap us back. Only over my dead body I would agree with that, especially now that I have a child inside me. I hope, however, that this is not the case and that she is happy living my life, as well as I am happy living hers.