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Morton Benson had a problem. Actually, Morton Benson had many problems. He was five feet and seven inches tall. He weighed between 110 pounds and 125 pounds depending on how much he ate on a regular basis. Morton Benson was 35 years old, but was cursed with one of those faces that made him looked ten years younger. Morton was one of those guys. He had many female friends, but had never really had a girlfriend. Morton was everyone's friend and no one's beau. In his sexually potent life, he had heard it all. "Oh, Morton, you're so sweet, I don't want to lose that." "Morton, you're my friend, I treasure you, please don't ask me to ruin that." "That's why I like you, Morton, you really listen, you're just like one of the girls." Morton had a Philosopher's degree in American history and a master's degree in political science and taught as a professor at Beckman College. Morton's voice was a medium grade contralto and sometimes when he raised his voice, it lost any and all male flavor. Morton was thirty-five years old and had sex exactly twice in his life, both times he paid for it. Sometimes a particularly dim student would call him MISS Benson. On a few occasions, the student did it on purpose. On a Saturday night while watching the discovery channel, there was, a loud knock on the door of Morton's nearly paid for home. Morton put down the remote and went to answer the door. It was a Federal Express delivery man. "Can I help you?" "Yeah, got a package for Maureen Benson. "Excuse me?" "Maureen Benson, 1640 J.F.K Drive, Zip code,-" the man reeled off the right address but there was no Maureen Benson here, Morton had never heard of such a person. Morton signed for the rather large box and brought it inside; the apathetic Federal Express man walked away pushing the now empty hand truck having forgotten Morton's name. Morton took a pair of scissors and cut the package tape to open the box and it revealed two large suitcases. dark brown with Corinthian leather accents in black. Morton pulled them out one at a time and set them heavily on the floor. They were Samsonite brand and looked very nice, either brand new or very well looked after. He left them at the end of the couch and resumed watching his program. Morton when to bed and fell asleep wondering what to do about the suitcases. The next morning, Morton posted a "Found notice on the campus bulletin board describing the suitcases exactly and stating they were delivered to his home by mistake, would Miss Maureen Benson come and claim them, He added the proviso that the claimant must be able to accurately describe the contents. After a month, no one tried to claim the two suitcases. It finally occurred to Moron that perhaps it would help if HE knew what was in them. That night after work and reading his three regular newspapers, eating one of his hungry man meals and showering, brushing his teeth and even giving himself a clean up shave, Morton could dawdle no longer. Morton Benson took the bigger suitcase and heaved it onto the end of his bed. Then he took hold of the two zippers and manfully, at least for him unzipped them. When that was done, Morgan flipped open the lid. The site that greeted him was a green blazer jacket with somewhat delicate looking decorative buttons. Morton lifted it out and realized it was not a blazer it was the jacket to a skirt suit. The scalloped collar gave it away. Inside the jacket on the clips attached to the hanger was the matching skirt. As woman's suits went, it really was very stylish and not at all trendy. It reminded Morton of the kinds of things worn by the 'Smart women' characters in old movies. Morton put that aside and found two more skirt suit sets and a pants suit set. All very nice and designed to be effectively ageless, Green, burgundy, ecru, charcoal grey and the pants suit was deep navy blue. Under those were several blouses. Two looked almost like men's dress shirts but three were satin and flowing with short sleeves and no collar and low cut necklines. Morton kept looking putting aside each new item. Two chemises, four shoulder-sleeve t-shirts designed to go with jackets and shoes. In addition, two T-Shirts that had things written on them. The first read, "Excuse me, could you please pray quietly, we're trying to THINK!" The second read, "The meek are welcome to the Earth, the rest of us are going to the STARS!' Morton stopped when he reached the neatly folded piles of panties. With a trembling hand, Morton picked up a pair. They were light and delicate. Colored a light pink and made of silk. Morton ran his hands over them and they felt slick, cool, and almost electrified. There were many pairs of different colors, azure, mint, ecru, light mustard even several plain white. Morton looked next to the now empty panty compartment and saw the brassieres. Each one made of either silk or satin and matching a pair of panties exactly, one for one. They had panels for support and the cups had some sort of thin padding, but even then, it was lined in the luxurious fabric. Under the bras were not packages of panty hose, but rather neatly folded and clean pairs of hose, nylons. Under them were several garter belts. Most women wore panty hose, if they wore them at all. Rare was the woman who wore nylons and a garter belt. Who WAS this woman? Whoever she was, she had exquisite taste. This was no fashion maven no will o' the magazine's wisp. She knew what looked good on her and what felt good next to her skin. Morton did his best to put her things back in the suitcase the way he found them. Then he moved on to the second case. Opening it, he found a makeup box and jewelry box. Putting those aside, he found five pairs of heeled shoes in colors and styles matching the suit, open topped, and sling back and ankle strap, open toe and closed toe, and high heel and low heel. And even two pairs of woman's athletic shoes. That explained the two pairs of vintage woman's jeans under the shoes. In the top pocket of the suitcase, he found several books. One of them was a book of erotica and one was "Parliament of Whores' by P.J. O'Rourke. The other was "Starship Troopers" by Robert Heinlein in vintage hardback edition. He found a large leather purse in the bottom left of the suitcase. Now that was odd, why would she pack her purse, would she not have needed it to get on the airplane? Morton kept searching. He found a somewhat worn and put upon looking teddy bear dressed as an American Soldier from the 1980's. That was simply adorable. It showed that whoever she was she did not take herself too seriously and knew how to nurture her inner child without spoiling it. Morton put it to the side with a tolerant smile. That was when he found the gun. It was a .45 caliber Colt model 1911 service semi automatic pistol made and issued between 1909 and 1978 by the U.S. Military. Morton knew it was a military piece by the Armory stamp on the slide above the trigger housing. United States ordnance and armament depot at Springfield Missouri, that meant this weapon had been last issued between 1938 and 1950. He located two additional clips and a box of fifty extra rounds. Morton packed everything back in the suitcases where he found it. And stuck them in the back of his closet in the bedroom he slept in. If this woman came for her things, she would get them. That was all there was to it. It was another month gone by before Morton took the cases out again. This time he took out the purse and looked at the checkbook/wallet/billfold. Her Driver's license was for the State Morton lived in and her address was HIS address. At the end of his rope Morton searched Google for her and did a Google Earth search for her residence. The search turned up an overhead picture of Morton's home; when he double-checked it, he got the following "Error 404 page not found Followed by Gateway timeout, 504 And finally, Internet explorer cannot open the page After that, he gave up and back in the closet, the suitcases went. After a grand total of three months since those suitcases, arrived on his doorstep, Morton asked his friend, Professor Fred Clavin from the Legal college, "Listen Fred, if somebody delivers something to you that you didn't order, what's the legal word on that?" "It's yours, the delivery company is on the hook for it." "What if it's personal property, like, say ,..." "A couple of suitcases?" "Ahhh, Yeah, like say a couple of suitcases." "Dude, after three months with no one coming to get them those cases and whatever is in them is your stuff, Pal." "Yes, but,.." "Hey, you been calling about them?" "Yeah," "Did you report them to the airline?" "I tried, but no one has ever heard of "Jolly Fats Weehawken airlines." Fred burst out laughing, "Dude you are putting me on." "What, no why?" "Mortie, 'Jolly Fats Weehawken' is the joke nightmare airline from the Jerry Lewis movie 'Hardly Working'." "Then what the hell am I supposed to do with two suitcases full of woman's clothing?" Fred Shrugged, "Search me pal, you searched for the rightful owner for three months and came up goose egg and that means YOU'RE the rightful owner, that's the law, even if by some miracle this chick does show up she's fucked, legally possession is 9/10ths of the law and you spent three months trying to give her crap back." "Fred, they're WOMEN'S clothing!" "So, what's you're point? Hell Mortie, I don't know, auction them on EBay, sell them on Craigslist try 'em on and rub one out while you wear them I don't give a shit. You have asked, and I have answered. More, I cannot do." Fred's last suggestion was a sign of his frustration at the question. He was not seriously suggesting that Morton Benson dabble in transvestitism. Regardless of that, once Morton heard it, he could not get that out of his mind. After work, on the way home Morton stopped at the local Walgreens and purchased a package of woman's razors. Not the cheap disposable variety, but the higher end wide handled shaver that took the blade cartridges. He also purchased a bottle of depilatory and shaving gel for women. Morton's thinking was, that if every grown woman he met was going to treat him as if he were their lady friend, then what was the point to his being a man at all? That night, after dinner, Morton took a bath, not a shower, a bath. When he bathed, he followed the instructions on the depilatory cr?me and used it on his arms and chest and pubic area. Then he shaved his legs, going slowly and being very careful not to cut himself. Shaving his legs and depilating the rest of his body took Morton two hours, but when he finished, his skin felt smooth and positively sensual. Morton, wrapped a towel around his hips, but then remembered what he was doing and quirked and impish grin to himself as he rewrapped the towel around his torso, as if he were a woman. No one could see him. He was all alone and knowing that gave Morton a freedom of action and thought that he had never really felt before. Morton unpacked the two suitcases and hung and or put away the clothes in his closet and the drawers of his dresser. The Morton took off the towel now that his body was dry and took up a green garter belt. Morton clipped it around his waist and settled it into place, and then he chose a light green pair of nylon hose and, sitting on the edge of the bed, rolled them down so that he could put them on. Morton pointed his toes and put the first one on his foot. Then he slowly and carefully rolled it up his leg. Taking care to let out the slack as he moved up his leg. When the nylon was on his lleg encasing the now smooth skin Morton was very glad he shaved his legs so closely. The sheer fabric felt wonderful on him and he took up the other length of hose and repeated the action for his right leg. When both legs were encased in the sheer smoothness, Morton clipped the tops of the hose to the garter belt and stood up. Morton took a pair of silk mint colored panties with French cut leg openings and lowered them to the floor so that he could step into them. Then he slowly pulled them up to his waist and snugged them into place. The smooth cool fabric pressed against his now smooth shaven cock and balls and his semi hard cock became fully hard, despite being pressed against him by the fabric. Next, Morton picked up the matching scalloped cup mint bra and clipped it on backwards before turning it around and putting his arms into the straps Then He took the mint slip and slid it on moving it up to his waist. Morton looked at himself in the big mirror his sister once bought him as a joke and was struck by the sight. Except for the bulge of his erect penis and balls and the smoothness of his chest, the reflection was nearly that of a shorthaired woman. At that point, Morton thought to himself, (In for a penny, in for a pound.) It was this that cased him to put on the short sleeved off-white low cut blouse and button it, before picking up the Kelly green skirt and donning it, Zipping it into place and smoothing it over his legs. He could feel the hardness of his admittedly smallish manhood, but ignored it as he picked up the matching jacket with the brass buttons and put it on. When he finished he looked at himself. The only jarring thing was the lack of makeup and jewelry, and the flatness of his chest, otherwise, the "Woman' in the mirror was stunning. She was a vision. By now, Morton's erection was screaming for attention and he knew that he needed to masturbate. Morton undressed completely taking great care not to damage any of the clothes he wore. Then when he was completely naked, Morton held the image of himself dressed in those beautiful clothes in his mind as he sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on his cock, sliding it up and down his shaft in practiced strokes born of long experience. Too soon, it seemed, Morton felt his cock twitch in his hand and his ballsac contract as a blast of semen launched from the head of his penis and onto his hand and belly and upper thighs. It was the strongest climax he could remember having since he started masturbating when he was twelve years old, and Morton knew it had been the clothes. Morton stood on somewhat shaky legs and went into the bathroom to use a washcloth to clean his semen off his body. When he had done so, he crawled into bed still naked. Normally he would have donned a t-shirt and a pair of briefs, but tonight he just did not want to. The thought of male underwear seemed,...unpleasant to him. Morton slept, and dreamed. He dreamed he was at a party and many people were there. He was wearing a dark navy blue strapless evening gown and two inch sandaltop high heels, but no one at the party found this odd, in fact, the only attention he received was from both men and woman talking to him and listening to him as if they were addicted to his every word and thought. Morton woke up to discover that it had just been a dream. A wonderful dream to be sure, but only that. Morton said aloud the quote of King Nebuchadnezzar from the Bible's book of Daniel, "I have dreamed a dream, but now, the dream is gone from me." Morton rose, and walked into the bathroom, taking hold of his flaccid penis and directing a stream of urine into the toilet. When he was finished, he looked in the mirror and felt his chin and cheeks. Smooth, absolutely baby smooth. Not as if, he had just shaved, but rather almost as if, he had never been able to raise a beard. Morton shrugged and brushed his teeth initiating his morning routine before class. He remembered what he did last night, but he neither was ashamed of it, nor did he feel too great a need to do it again. Morton simply ate his breakfast and dressed in his male wardrobe and drove to class. Morton lectured his classes and did his job, as well as he ever did, inching that much closer to tenure and praising students who did well while mocking the students who did not even try or worse seemed deliberately, aggressively stupid. As he told one obnoxious 'get-by', "Mr, Parry, you or rather your parents are paying rather a lot of money to keep you here. They still have to pay that money, even if you flunk out and never get a degree, so frankly I don't care whether or not you study. Rest assured, I get paid, either way." He thought of that boy's name Richard Parry. Dick Parry. It always made him think of two penis-size obsessed jocks sword fighting with their cocks. After school Morton went to his office and graded papers, it was good steady work that kept his mind busy, too busy to wander. When he finished he went home and ate and sat watching a travel channel program about some man going around and seeing how much he could eat in one sitting. It did not appeal to Morton and in fact seemed more than a little gauche. Morton turned it off and went into his room. He stopped when he passed his closet and remember what lay within. His cock came to instant hardness, and almost before he was aware of it, Morton was pulling his clothes off and throwing them into a corner of the room. It was almost as if he wanted to be rid of some distasteful thing. When he was naked, he took a bottle of baby oil into the bathroom and did a clean up shave of his legs and body. After he did so he took a bath once more, and dried off, wrapping the towel around his body as before, and opened the drawers in witch he placed 'HER' underthings That was how Morton thought of them. HER things, SHE owned them and he did not want to damage or disrespect HER beautiful clothes. Morton chose a set of nylons, garter belt panties, and bra that was pale azure, this evening. As before, Morton sat on the bed in the nude and slipped the nylons on over pointed toes, careful not to snag them. As before, the sheer fabric felt magnificent and almost electric against his skin. This time when he donned the garter belt and clipped the suspenders to the tops of HER nylons his penis seemed to throb with the need to be touched,. Morton did not touch it, however. He would never think of doing that in HER underthings. Morton slipped the pale blue panties up his legs and onto his waist and crotch and butt. Smoothing them over his backside and hips. Then, he donned the blue bra with the faint darker blue curlicues on the cups. As he slipped his arms in the straps, Morton could swear he felt the cups cling to his chest. Almost as if his pectorals, such as they were somehow filled the cups. Morton shook his head at that impossible thought and took up the sky blue slip pulling it on and relishing the slick silky material against his skin. Morton did not know WHY so many women did not wear things like this, but he was derisive of anyone who would deliberately deny themselves this sensual magnificence. This time, Morton put on the dark blue top with the rounded collar and the single breast pocket with the cursive letters MB on it, and pulled on the lighter blue knee length skirt that zipped up the side. He put on the blazer with the faux pockets and the wide Dietrich collar and chose the professional looking low-heeled dark blue pumps. Morton walked around in this ensemble for a few moments and again looked at himself. Again, the lack of makeup was a bit jarring as was the absence of jewelry. He decided then that tomorrow, and for every night after, he would not wear HER clothes, without the correct makeup and jewelry. Morton again undressed, carefully removing and putting away each piece of clothing, so as not to damage or disgrace HER things. SHE deserved better than to have some brute spoil her lovely wardrobe. As before, when Morton was once again naked, he sat on his bed and massaged his blood-engorged dick. This time thought his chest seemed to be reacting to what he was doing, and with his other hand, Morton massaged his chest, touching his nipples. That felt unusually good, better than it should have. Morton stroked his cock slowly taking his time and massaged and teased his chest and nipples, letting the pleasure build. When he finally elected to quicken his pace on his cock and stroke to orgasm, the burst of pleasure that rewarded him caused his eyes to squint closed for a moment and he actually cried out, "Oooooooohhhh" When he climaxed and ejaculated on his hand and body. Morton cleaned up in the bathroom as before and as before crawled under the covers in the nude. This time when he dreamed, he was on a beach wearing a VERY revealing bikini that could not possibly have hidden his penis and testes, such as they were.. Regardless of that, he received nothing but lustful glances from men and some women and looks of resentful jealousy from other women. It was as if Morton Benson was the darling of the Beach. Something that alerted him that he was dreaming and caused him to wake 45 minutes before the alarm would have gone off. After that night's sleep, Morton felt even odder. Morton rose, and walked into the bathroom. He looked at his reflection and saw: His hair was a little longer. It was now past his ears when the night before it had been almost military regulations short. Morton's face was still baby smooth when by this time, he should have had at least a bit of 'five o' clock shadow. In addition to that, Morton felt his chest. It felt tender and his nipples were a little bigger and more sensitive. Morton could tell by feel that his body was starting to deposit adipose tissue into his pectoral area. (Wonderful,) Morton thought, ruefully (I'm getting bitch tits.) Morton Benson realized that it wasn't as if he had to worry about being bullied or ridiculed by his peers, not at the Collegiate level, thankfully. Even so, it was concerning, and a sign that late middle age was staring him in the face. Low testosterone would explain the lack of beard growth two days in a row as well as an onset of Gynecomastia. That was what Morton thought at any rate. When Morton reached work, he saw the notice for student standing reports: Due waiting for him. Morton liked that, it gave him the chance to reward the good and punish the bad. Many students in his classes would receive positive notice. More than a few would receive places on the Dean's list. Some of them, would receive notices of good standing, witch meant they were learning well but not performing outstandingly, and a few would receive notices of academic probation. Richard Parry was one of those last. He did not pay attention and it was blindingly obvious his work was being done by OTHER students. His test scores showed that. While he filled out the reports and listing, Morton wondered: how would SHE grade his students? What would SHE have to say about young Mr. Parry? Somehow, Morton gathered that HER opinion would be similar to his. He also felt somehow that SHE would also think his name 'Dick Parry' sounded like two jocks having a penis fight. That made Morton chuckle as he finished up and put the letters in the out box. That day's classes seemed to both fly and drag. Morton both looked forward to and dreaded going home specifically because HER clothes waited there and he knew that he would wear them and then gratify himself. Morton felt that he SHOULD have felt embarrassed, no he SHOULD have felt ashamed. Why did he not? The answer was simple. He was hurting no one. The clothes were his now by law, and it DID make him feel good. Not just sexually either, wearing the clothes made him feel attractive, and appealing and better that plain old Professor Morton Benson the sexual nonentity. During his classes, he was more animated and confident than he had been in a long time. He projected his voice, he made relevant period in-jokes, and he made sure to engage several of the better students with questions. At the end of one class, Morton realized the board supervisor had been in his class. Morton realized that he just passed his semester review. That afternoon Morton drove home and parked. When he walked to his front porch, he saw a large box on the porch. It was one of those tall types that one would pack hanging clothes in for moving. There was a note in his neighbor's handwriting, "I did not know you had a twin sister." Morton read the address label and saw it was another package for 'Maureen Benson'. Morton hurried to move the package into the house before anyone else saw it. Once Morton had succeeded in sort of manhandling the big and somewhat awkward box into the bedroom, he opened it almost immediately and looked inside. Dresses, gowns shifts, and long coats. The dresses and gowns were beautiful and the shifts were made of the same slippery cool luxurious fabric as the underthings tucked away in the drawers of his dresser. Then while putting them away Morton took hold of one hanger and stopped. He knew that dress. It was a long strappy navy blue dress slit up one side and two nights ago, Morton dreamt he had been wearing it. Morton spent the next hour pacing and trying to think. Why would that happen, why would he have what could only have been a precognitive dream about wearing a dress at a party? A dress he would not lay eyes on until two days afterward? Morton looked at the dresses critically. He was less than surprised to see that they were all well made and stylish. Once again done in an evergreen sort of style that would always look good regardless of passing fads. A woman could wear these in 1979 and then still be wearing them in 1999 and look twice as classy as any faddish fashion maven. Morton disrobed completely and checked his body by touch. There was no stubble anywhere and he did not need to shave any part of himself. Once again, he ran a tub of bath water. Morton had a sneaking suspicion he would never take a shower again. As the water ran, Morton went back to the box and upended it. A collection of bath salts, body washes, and skin cr?mes fell out and Morton collected them and put some bath beads in the water. He did not know why, he just felt that he should. Morton felt almost as if SHE was there and telling him to do so. He would never want to disappoint or upset HER. Morton soaked in the bath for longer than he ever had and enjoyed the warm water and the smell of the bath beads and salts. He never touched his genitals while in the bath, Morton found just luxuriating there to be pleasurable enough. Eventually Morton washed using the Loofa and body wash and washed his hair using the Suave Strawberry scented shampoo. When Morton finished his bath he wrapped the towel around himself the 'right' way, the way SHE would around his torso and hips and wrapped a second towel around his hair. Then he looked over the makeup in the kit he received the first day. He took it out and experimented hesitatingly with it. Watching his own motions to make sure it would not look clownish or whoreish. SHE was not a clown or a whore and he would not want to embarrass HER. When Morton had applied a foundation eyeliner and lipstick, He looked in the mirror and was shocked at what he saw, not because he looked ridiculous, but because he did not. His face had never been masculine and he used to endure no end of hell in high school for 'looking like a Ghuhrl or a fairy'. Looking at his made up face in the mirror He could almost see HER he looked like nothing so much as a pale imitation of HER. Morton stood up and removed the towels from his head and body. Then he chose a teal colored long sleeved dress with a high neck and a hemline past his knees and laid it on the bed. Then he chose pale hose the white garter belt and eggshell colored bra panties and slip. Donning the hose was again as always an electrically sensual treat. Now even more so that he bathed using the beads and salts. Putting on the panties and bra felt, not so much erotic as simply good, as if SHE was in the bedroom with him helping him dress. When he pulled on the dress, he stepped into it as if a pair of trousers then pulled it up and put his arms in the sleeves as if it were a surgical gown. Then he reached behind him as best he could and tried to get at the zipper. Morton was shocked when he felt the zipper managed to grab it and zip it up with only a little effort. When Morton accomplished that, he swore he could almost hear a woman's throaty voice in his ear. The voice said, "Good girl." Morton went to the bathroom mirror and tried to comb his longer and seemingly thicker hair in a way that would make the dress look good. He admitted to himself that it did not look half-bad. Instead of stripping and jacking his cock as before, Morton instead went to the desk in his little home office, sat down with his legs together and went through his papers, looking at turned in papers and essentially going about his own homework. When he finished he watched a little television and could not help commenting on some of the silliness he saw. "Sorry, but if you gather people in front of a camera in a staged situation and promise them money if they behave a certain way, that is NOT 'reality'!." When Morton finally finished his evening at home, he stripped carefully and checked each article to see if it was dirty. No, even the four hours he spent In them were not enough to soil the garments, not as yet. When Morton was again naked, he was going to skip self-pleasure, but somehow he could feel a presence over his shoulder, as if, SHE was telling him, "No, Sweetie you earned it, enjoy yourself." Morton lay on his bed and began touching himself and fondling his now larger and more prominent chest and nipples. He let a hand wander down to his pubic area and massaged his cock and balls before he felt it get hard and stared jacking it. Again, he did not want it to be over too fast. He wanted to enjoy this. Morton drew his pleasure out as long as he could, and the building/slacking building was exquisite, but finally he needed to come. He ran his hand up and down the shaft fast and furiously rushing toward his orgasm. When it came, it was powerful, but oddly the fluid coming from his cock head was a thing, diluted paltry shadow of his former semen discharges. It could not have been the frequency of his masturbation, because there were time when he did not generate that much, but it was still thick enough to be called semen. HER voice whispered in his ear, "It's alright, baby, don't worry about it. Go to sleep now." Morton cleaned up, washed the makeup from his face and used the cold cr?me to remove what he could not get with water.. He then climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. The next morning was a surprise. Morton looked down at himself and his 'bitch tits' were even larger. What was more, they were taking on the shape of genuine female breasts. His nipples were slightly bigger as well and Morton's butt was beginning to spread along with his thighs growing a bit larger and suppler. Morton went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror at his face and hair. His hair was longer, dramatically so, His face now seemed even more feminine than it always had been, and his cheekbones and eyes seemed more pronounced. Morton staggered back and exclaimed aloud, What the hell is happening to me?" The voice that came from his vocal chords was now slightly lighter and higher than it had been. If he answered the phone, he would be taken for a woman. A sharp loud knock at the door startled him out of his confusion and Morton threw on his bathrobe, a ratty red terry cloth number and the voice near his ear/in his head tut-tutted and said, "Oh, that looks awful, don't you have anything nicer, kitten?" Morton shook his head and walk/shambled to the door, opening to find a young woman in a FEDEX uniform with several stacks of boxes. The young woman said brightly, "Miss Benson? I have some packages for you, just sign here." She proffered the electronic manifest pad and Morton signed it in a nearly illegible scrawl that was a casualty of his confusion. "Have a nice day, Ma'am." Morton realized that his robe was so baggy and ill fitting that his still marginally masculine body shape was not easily discernable. He was glad of that and started lifting the boxes into the house. They were heavier than they should have been, but Morton could handle them, if he made one trip per large box. Once he had all the boxes inside he realized, the boxes weren't heavier, he was weaker. It was as if even the upper body strength he had was leaving him, slowly but surely. Morton pushed the boxes to one side and sat in the chair in front of the TV. Morton turned it on and despaired. He was going crazy and getting sick and somebody kept sending him some strange woman's things and Morton Benson had no idea what had possessed him to start cross dressing in that woman's clothes, whomever she was. Morton felt the presence again. This time he could almost smell her faint lilac perfume and he heard her say, "Oh, Baby, don't take on so. Why don't you look at the boxes and see what's inside, it'll be fun I promise." Morton grabbed the scissors from the kitchen and used them to cut open the first box. It held nightwear. Teddies and nightgowns and sets of silk tops and tap pants, as well as more utilitarian cotton panties, the surprise was that they were in various colors and patterns. Some of them were actually grown up underoos specially cut for adult women to wear. Obviously, this woman had a sense of fun and also knew that wearing her silk and satin underthings to bed could ruin them. What shocked Morton was how MUCH underwear there was. SHE told him in his ear/mind, "Well we cannot wear the same underthings all the time, now can we, a girl likes some variety now look in the next box, I promise you'll like it." Morton opened the next boox and saw several different robes and wraps. He picked up a light green one that match his eyes and SHE told him, "Now throw that nasty ratty rag away and put on something decent, and get some panties on a girl doesn't go around regimental if she can help it." Morton removed the terry cloth robe that had seen better days and threw it away. He did not want to, but SHE was telling him to. Then he put on a pair of underoo t-shirt and panties that made him look like supergirl's slutty transsexual cousin. He put on a dark blue robe made of a silk rayon blend and donned the light blue slippers. He told the voice, "Happy now?" SHE answered, "Well, don't you feel better?" Morton did not want to admit it, but he rather did. He answered HER reluctantly, "Yeah, yeah, I guess I do." "Good, now let's get the rest of your clothes and things put away and then you can have your happy time." Morton stopped and asked HER with no small note of suspicion in his voice, "Why, why do you want me to jack off, what is it about me jerking my cock that makes it so that I change when I wake up, what the hell is going on here?" Morton still recoiled at the woman's voice with which he spoke. There would be no disguising it. Perhaps if he spoke in a low rough theatrically male voice, he might convince a listener that he was a skinny man with a terrible chest cold, but that was a forlorn hope at best. She told him, "Come on, Sweetheart, you KNOW you want to, it will feel wonderful, and make you sleep and wouldn't you like a nice nap later, after lunch when everything is done? You'll be SO tired by then." Morton said nothing. He opened more boxes and looked at hairbrushes, and bath accessories and more makeup and a larger nicer jewelry box. And more clothes. T-shirts and waist cut jeans designed to emphasize a nearly hourglass figure. The last box had books. Not novels or reference books but art and photography books. Morton opened one and looked at it. It held black and white photos of women in various Noir city backdrops and most of them were either naked or nearly so and posing in stylized poses. Some alone and some with each other. Morton closed that book and opened another, this one held color photos of women together in art poses The erotic tone of the pictures was blatant and unmistakable. All the books were like that. Some of them were erotic comics but all of them involve women having surface of the sun sex with other women. Conventional pornography had never interested Morton. He always found it trashy and low and felt that the women in the pictures were being treated like things. These were different, the women in them were women and the viewer was clearly meant to see them as such and be a proxy to their sexuality. Morton's cock hardened in the panties he wore and he knew, THIS was real sex, real erotica. With porn, the viewer exploited the women, with these pictures it was almost as if the models were sexually exploiting the viewer, as if they were saying, 'Look at us, see the way we are with each other, it makes us horny to know you're watching. Don't look away, we need you to watch us as we pleasure each other. You're not using us, we're using you.' SHE told Morton, "See, I told you, you would like that, now finish your work." Morton put away the rest of the underthings and clothes and ran into the problem of not having enough room. His male clothes were in the way. He did not have enough for two wardrobes, one male AND one female. SHE ordered him, "Get rid of them, you don't need them." He told HER, "But they're my clothes, how will I,.." "They are NOT your clothes, young lady, your clothes are in boxes and cases all over the living room, and a bunch of men's crap is in the way, now clear it out and bag it and tag it, Missy, MARCH!" Morton was not sure if he was really seeing it or losing his mind, but he could swear he saw a tall powerfully build woman standing over him as he knelt by the box of books. SHE ordered again, "MARCH!" Morton took all of his clothes from the closets and drawers and stuffed them into garbage bags. Then SHE ordered him to "Call Goodwill and have them pick this crap up." Morton told HER weakly, "Goodwill won't come; I have to take it to a drop center." "Then get dressed." "But,..." SHE yelled at the top of her voice, "GET DRESSED; something nice to go out in public, then you can come home and have happy time." "Yes, Ma'am" Good girl!" Morton stripped and put on flesh tone nylons, a while garter belt, and white panties, bra and slip, then he took a rather conservative brown dress with a lace bodice and medium height tan heels with a closed toe and brushed his hair. He considered makeup and SHE supervised him while he put on 'not wearing makeup' makeup. A small gold pendant and clip Earrings finished the look and Morton headed to the door, SHE stopped him and said, "Don't forget your purse." Morton took his car keys, put them in his purse, and walked out to his car. It took Morton three trips to load the back of the car and his loss of strength infuriated him. Nevertheless, he got in the car and started it, driving to goodwill's drop center near the closest mall. Morton was wracked with worry, what if he was pulled over, what if someone saw him what if, what if,... When Morton reached the drop center, he hesitatingly got out of the car and went to the back to get the first bag. As he struggled to carry it, an employee saw him and asked, "Can I give you a hand, ma'am?" Morton nodded and the young man picked up two at a time and chucked them effortlessly into the catch bin, then he took the last bag from Morton and said, "Have a nice day, Ma'am." Morton nodded and waved as he went back to the car. He drove back home doing the speed limit and glaring at the road. SHE seemed to be next to him In the passenger side seat. She told him in a tone of reassurance that bordered on condescension, "There, now, that wasn't such a chore, now was it?" Morton mumbled, "No, I supposed not." SHE continued, "Now we can go home and get undressed and have a lovely time with our body, won't that be nice?" "I s'pose." HER voice changed to a tone of real concern as SHE said, "I know what's wrong; you don't understand what is happening to you." "No, I don't, why don't you explain it to me" The presence felt as if SHE put HER hands on Morton's shoulders and told him, "You're not a straight man, at least you were not supposed to be.. You're supposed to be a gay woman. A very classy lesbian with excellent tastes." Morton was gob smacked, "Say WHAT?" "Maureen, the Universe wanted you to be a lesbian, a classy smart, exiting woman's woman, but a,..force, an entity, interfered and caused you to be an unhappy man." "Can we talk about this when I don't have a cop behind me?" The presence abruptly faded out for now and Morton sweated into his panties and bra praying for the cop to go find someone else to scare. In time the Peace officer veered off at the next intersection and turned his lightbar on chasing someone in a van. Morton was so relieved he didn't even mind the clothes he wore, in fact, he liked them a great deal. They felt good and natural as if he was SUPPOSED to dress this way. As the car pulled into the driveway of Morton's home, he thought to himself, "Who or what would WANT me to be unhappy?" "I'll explain about 'him' later, but first, let's take care of you, come on in the house." Morton walked into the house, surprised at how easy it was to get used to walking and dressing this way. Eat something, then you can have happy time, and since you been good you can leave the silkiness on." Morton fixed himself a sandwich still wearing the dress and heels and by this point not even really thinking it was strange. When he finished the sandwich and chips and put the plate In the sink, he took off the dress and lay on his bed. First, he rubbed his cock through the fabric of the panties and that was an entirely new world of pleasure for him. He had not done it before because he did not want to stain the delicates. Now though, SHE told him he could go crazy. Morton rubbed and teased his breasts through the bra and was shocked that they were effectively female breasts now. rubbing them and playing with them added to his pleasure and made Morton moan in ecstasy. Ooooohhhhhhh, god, ooooohhhhh, my gahd, yessssss. Soon after not more than six or seven more strokes, Morton climaxed. Unfortunately, this brought an end to this session AND left him with cum stained panties. He took them off and looked at them sadly. SHE told Morton, "Relax, just throw them out, you have plenty." Morton did so and SHE told him, "Just get in bed and lie down as you are, it's O.K." Morton was tired and woozy and in no mood to argue and so he lifted the covers and climbed under them for a nap as SHE commanded. Morton dreamt that he was at a book signing, his own in fact and people were effusive in praising him. He was wearing the charcoal gray skirt suit and holding up a copy of a book called 'A different Country' Morton woke up and realized something was different. The dim light of early evening slanted through his venetian blinds and he sat up and knew that many things were different. His hair was longer and curly going past his shoulders. The breasts were bigger; they now completely filled his bra. His hips were wider and his waist was narrower. He now had a woman's figure. There was no mistaking that. He climbed out of bed and looked down. His cock and balls were still there; He sat up and walked into the bathroom in his nylon covered feet. Morton looked in the mirror at a woman with long light brown curly hair that women would kill for and men would want to bury their faces in. His face was now that of a woman, a startlingly beautiful woman, rather than a nebbish weak chinned man. Morton stood back and looked over his body. It was a woman's body, save for the presence of his almost vestigial penis and testicles. Morton took off his remaining underthings and stepped into the shower. He wanted to take one and so he did. As the water washed over the body of a very feminine shemale, he wondered what came next. Whatever it was, Morton realized that tonight and tomorrow would make the difference. When dry and wearing two towels, Morton took them off and dried his hair with a hair dryer while SHE told him how to comb it out to avoid tangles and knots. When that was accomplished, he dressed in a champagne colored silk top and tap pants and donned a matching robe. He sat down in his easy chair and picked up one of the big picture books. Morton leafed through it and had to admit that the pictures were very hot. He was still lazily flipping through the book when he realized that his erection was tenting the silk shortpants. Morton reached a hand into them and started massaging it and teasing at his balls. His other hand reached into his top and played with his breasts. As he looked at the image of two women in an old style office strap-on fucking on the desk, Morton felt himself getting close. He climaxed, but there was no discharge, and so he kept stroking himself and massaging his breasts. Another orgasm elicited just enough liquid to lubricate his shaft and so he kept jacking his now four-inch girlcock to another orgasm while he pulled and massaged and teased his breasts. The next orgasm literally knocked Morton unconscious and placed him in a dreamless deep sleep that was almost a coma. Morton woke up with a start. He was still in the chair and the silk shortpants were down on his thighs. His top was askew allowing his breasts to spill out. Morton reached down to pull them up and his fingers brushed his pubic mound. His dick was gone. Morton's cock and balls were just GONE! Morton reached in between his legs and discovered a moist fleshy wet cleft topped by a hooded clitoris and surrounded by sensitive fleshy folds. Morton did what he did next without thinking. He started rubbing and frigging his new pussy with an almost wild abandon and he rubbed his breasts frantically. The first orgasm shook him, and he kept fucking himself. The second squeezed his eyes shut and he screamed out, "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH" The third climax dimmed his sight and made his awareness skip before he again lost consciousness. Morton Benson woke up from the most recent foray into self-pleasure and looked down at himself. He now had lightly larger than average breasts; if he had to guess; he would put them at a 36C cup. He had slim arms, and delicate hands that nonetheless would be dexterous. He adjusted the sleepwear he was wearing and stood up. There did not appear to be any further changes to his body. His body? Morton took an honest appraisal of the body his mind occupied and elected to cease referring to the occupant by male pronouns. It was not that she did not consider herself male anymore, although the evidence was fairily overwhelming that things were different now. She just did not feel like adding Dissociative Personality Disorder to her list of other problems. That reminded her, what of 'the voice'? Where had SHE gone? Morton gathered the idea that she would not be hearing from HER anymore. That was a shame as she had questions about this whole matter. Morton decided that it was irrelevant. If need be she could initiate an investigation on her own. Then Morton stopped and realized, the old male life, the job at school the title to the car and the deed to the house, all were in the name of Mr 'Short, bland and not very good with the ladies.' Morton walked into the bathroom and looked close at her face. That was when she saw the pierced ears. THAT then, would be the last (Hopefully) bodily change. Morton took off the silk sleepwear set and changed into a set of striped cotton panties with a black shoulder-sleeve T-shirt that bore the word "College" in scholastic block lettering. Obviously an homage to the film "Animal house" She decided that there may be only female clothes in the house now, but that was no reason to wallow in it when there was other business before the board. Morton Saw the Teddy bear in military garb on the dresser and puckishly asked it, "What are you looking at?" It remained silent just the way well-behaved stuffed animals are known for doing. Morton grabbed it from the dresser and took it to bed with her, telling it, "If that bitch shows up again your orders are to tear her tits off."