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Witness Sex Change (WitSex.); By: Allison. I had always thought being in the witness protection program would be a fascinating experience, but I had came to that conclusion mostly through watching TV and mediocre Arnold Schwarzenegger movies. In the real life, it is much, much different and even more different in my particular case. It was about six months ago and I was out and about in quite suburbia minding my own business, just a regular 26 year-old guy making his way in the world climbing up the corporate ladder from the mail-room, a place that the slow economy had kept me in a lot longer than should have been necessary. It was no big deal, it at least kept me housed, fed and clothed; I could bide my time and wait until something bigger came my way. So I was I made a stop at a gas station-slash-convenience store on the way into work when my life took an unexpected left turn down a completely unseen road, normally I did the modern-day man thing and paid for my gas at the pump, waited for the pump to click off and then head off on my way. Today was different, as I wanted to go in to grab some donuts to eat on the drive in; I was weak that day. So there I was in the back of the convenience store selecting my donuts when I hear someone else enter the shop and a conversation strike up between him and the cashier. Neither must have been aware that I was in the store as the conversation became more and more heated; as my interest piqued I crouched behind a corner and watched the action from behind an aisle. There men who entered the shop were fairly well dressed and it looked as if they were shaking down the clerk pretty well. The men kept demanding to know where their "stuff" was and what the clerk had done with it; the clerk said he was not giving up anything until he was paid the money he was owed. That is when things took a dark turn as one of the men pulled out a gun and shot the clerk twice in the chest, after that the other man ran around the corner to muffle the clerk's screams and to, I presume, try to goad more information out of him. Less than a minute pass and the two men ran out of the store, got into their car and sped off. Presumably, with whatever information they were seeking. That this crime was going down in front of me was incredible, I guess they did not see my car parked at the pump on the other side of the store. I was trembling as I walked to the counter to check after the clerk who was clearly dead and beyond helping; I called 911. The police came, took their pictures and then began asking me many questions about the two men, I gave the names I had heard and when I spoke one name in particular: "Gino Parisi" the officer's eyes widened and insisted that I come with them to the station. Down there I was put in a relatively comfortable room but had to wait there for a couple of hours before anyone spoke to me, having never been given the chance to even call work to let them know why I hadn't shown up, my phone in the cup-holder of my car. Finally, with not much more than some water to drink the local police chief and a man with the FBI came into the room and sat down with me to lay it on straight. I had just witnessed a murder carried out by the largest crime-family in the city, a crime family that was notoriously good at carrying out their hits and other crimes, being careful with not leaving witnesses and when they did leave some witnesses, those witnesses were quickly dealt with. The FBI needed me to help them in a case they were building against the family. "Sure, anything I can do to help," I said brightly, na?ve to the weight of what was going on. "You don't seem to understand. Right now, you are pretty much the only living witness we have to this crime carried out by this family. Now we are sure we can link these two soldiers to Gino but nothing solid enough to take it to court right now. As a matter of fact it could still be years before we even get these men, or Gino, to a judge." "I don't understand, I told you these men killed the clerk, why not go get them now?" "We're not interested in booking these two stooges for the murder of some piece-of-crap convenience store clerk in suburbia. We want to use your information to link these two men to Gino through this murder to bring this SOB down for the last time. Right now, he is their boss. The underboss, the capos, even their consigliore are in no position to run this family. Without Gino the family will be severely compromised, hell crime rates in the city will probably half overnight when Gino goes down." "So... Fine. I go back home and I...." "No. Not at all. We need to get you into witness protection right away." That is when the weight of all of this hit me. Witness Protection. I was the lone man standing between law enforcement and one of the biggest crime families in the city. "Okay," taking a big gulp, "So, when what next?" "First we build a cover story for your death..." "My death?!" I shouted at them. "My friends, my family..." "We're afraid you can never speak to them or see them again, too many chances of the family drawing connections, you'd only be putting their lives in danger and this will be better for them. Unfortunately, that is probably the least of your worries, this crime family has been able to penetrate all of our previous covers for witnesses and find the witness before he could testify. We've had to go from the ground up and completely reconsider how we go about covering things up. The new identity we give you is going to be a whole new person, someone who before now has never existed and it's going to be that person, not you, who was in that store today." I remained silent. I was trying to take in the weight of everything that had happened to me this morning. "Court orders have been filed, the paperwork is done, and the process is underway to have you killed and your new identity to seem already in the system, fortunately with as computerized as everything is these days it's only taken some smart computer skills to get your new persona into the system. Right now we've already prepared for your "death" by driving off the road into the river along your route to work." "You mean... I'm already dead?" "Yes." "I don't understand. If they didn't know I was there..." "The minute we said your name over the radio as witness they were already probably planning their move against you. They likely already know what you look like and got someone to stake out your job and your apartment before we even began talking here," Now, they believe you to be dead or -more likely- to be going into WitSec. Fortunately for us your new identity they'll never be able to plan for." "So what's my new identity?" The two men looked at each other a bit grimly and slid a manila folder over to me, I opened it up and there in front of me was my new identity, a sheet of paper filled with my new personal information and a computer generated picture of "me." "A girl?!" As they had explained earlier, I had no choice in this. Court orders are signed and sealed to do this to me and this was all going to happen in the name of bringing down a mob boss. It was incredible the lengths the government could go to in order to force someone into physical alterations and into a completely different way of life but in some cases, it seems, the greater good for society trumps the needs of the individual. "It's the one identity they will not expect." "But, I..." "Over the course of the next couple of weeks you'll have a series of operations..." "Operations?!" ".... Operations to your face to chance its appearance as well as breast augmentation surgery in order to make your new identity complete; you needn't worry about your genitalia as we'll leave those mostly alone, but you will be put on medications to constrain your testosterone levels and increase your estrogen levels, this will help your body to feminize itself naturally." "I will not submit to this. I want to see my lawyer." "Sir, you're already dead. Any lawyer we give you will be for you new identity and the lawyer you've been assigned has already agreed to this and is ensuring your best interests are being represented. None of the changes we're making will be permanent and will be undone once Gino is in prison or we have brought him down. But, as I said..." "That could be years from now," I said grimly. "Yes. Sir, I know this is a shock to you but, believe us, this is the only way to prevent these men from finding you. They will not predict this; it is an identity they will not expect. We will set up a residence for you in the city and give you the resources you need to find a job based on your skill level and education. " "You're not going to give me a job?" "No, far too many variables and the police getting a job for someone would be too suspicious. We will, however, augment whatever salary you get with your job, when you find one, with a salary of our own to ensure you a reasonable life style; in fact the residence we're planning for you is in The Gardens area of the city." That caused me to raise an eyebrow. The Gardens area of downtown was pretty high-middle class area, better than where I was living now. Everything continued to be explained to me and eventually I came around to it, mostly because I accepted I had no other choice and I suppose it was better than being dead. With that, I was set-up with a temporary, male identity and taken with specialists with WitSec to a specialized clinic in Canada, I am supposing there was some pulling of strings and perhaps some international cooperation to allow this to happen. It was a "resort clinic" for transvestites in transition, the clinic told clients it was temporarily out of service for remodeling and was then admitted as a lone patient under an assumed male identity transitioning to a female identity, but not the one I will finally be given. It was convoluted as hell and I could only imagine that governments and agencies were pulling some major strings as well as cashing in lots of favors in order to do this to me. My private room in the clinic was fairly large and nice, well appointed and had a good view of a Canadian forest, I was not allowed to use the phone or the internet, I was allowed to watch all of the TV I wanted and this place had a killer premium cable package. My first full day there and they wanted to do my facial reconstruction, the time table for my complete transition was set to be around six months, something the doctors told me was pretty much moving heaven and earth to do but given the "circumstances" of my transition could be done. Yeah, they were in on it. The first series of surgeries was reconstructing my face, I was given a pointer chin, a smaller nose, and overall a far more rounded face; when I first looked at myself in the mirror after all of the healing and the bandages were taken off, I was stunned! They must have used some very talented surgeons for this work as looking back at me in a mirror was a very beautiful and feminine face. They had used electrolysis and eyebrow shaping to form nicely arched eyebrows and had it not been for my still masculine body and hair, I would be mistaken for a woman. My cheeks were rounded and, my lips slightly fuller and in even at a natural rest had a cute, flirty, smile to them, I blinked to ensure it was really myself and saw my own brown eyes stared back at me, behind some fuller eyelashes. Eyelashes?! Had they somehow given me feminine eyelashes? My eye sockets were reshaped and had a certain brightness and flintiness to them; certainly, it was a face where just looking at a man would get him to crush on me. I rolled my eyes a bit at that thought, which by itself came across as flirty, I couldn't believe this was really me and this was the life I was being led, nay, FORCED into. There were some courses of electrolysis treatments to rid me of the hair on my face, chest, hands and feet; the hair on my arms was thinned and fortunately the hair on my legs and pubic region were left alone under the presumption I would shave or trim that as I felt was needed like any other woman. Next came the more brutal surgeries that I had never even heard of before and did not even think were possible. Apparently, these were on the leading edge of SRS surgery and for other cases where these types of surgeries would be performed. Well, in Canada, at least, I guess the medical profession back in the states did not see the profit in them. The first of these surgeries involved giving my hands to be smaller and more fitting of that of a woman's. Like most men I had large hands but they showed little signs of a blue-collar life, I thought they would work fine but it was insisted to that, I needed to have this done to better ensure the new identity would take. For the most part I had mostly resigned myself to what they wanted to do was pretty much going to be talked into me. So I did it. I woke up the morning after this surgery practically paralyzed with pain in my hands; I looked down at them and saw them braced up, each finger tightly bandaged and separated as if I had broken my hands. Which is pretty much what they did, once healed my masculine hands with fat man- fingers were no more, replaced with dainty ones with slender fingers and some serious work done to give my nails a clean, feminine look. Surprisingly enough there was very little rehabilitation required as within a week the dexterity in my hands was pretty much back to 100%, most of it was just learning to work with the smaller hands. Similar surgery was done on my feet not long afterwards with pretty much the same results, waking up to a couple days of intense pain, braces and bandaging came off, and some simple rehabilitation to adapt to the new feet. I had looked down at them once and just saw adorable little feet, I always had a foot fetish with women; mine certainly fit my taste in feet. Between my feet, face, and hands I began to wonder how reversible these surgeries really were. Afterwards would I be given surgery to put my face back to a man's? Was there feet and hand enlargement? All of this time they had me on hormone treatments, since I was keeping my testicles I was on both suppressants to my testosterone levels and on estrogen boosters, both medications I would take for the duration of my time "undercover" or whatever you want to call it. "How will I maintain these prescriptions? Won't someone get suspicious when I show up at the pharmacy once a month getting these two types of drugs, do the math and realize I'm not a real woman?" "Don't worry about that, the medications will be mailed to you with enough to last you six months, you'll get a new shipment every two and half months you should never be out, at least not long enough to impact your changes or health," the doctors and agents told me. As the hormones did their job, I began to notice my body's own changes happening naturally, mostly fat redistribution to my hips and buttocks and, of course my breasts, before long two, soft, mounds were on my chest and my nipples began to swell and become very, very sensitive. After being in the clinic for about four months and having more operations than I cared to remember I woke up one morning during a short period of recovery and looked at myself in the mirror, and I saw a small-breasted woman. The hormones, diet I was on, and trauma of surgery had taken its toll on my weight and muscle mass; so between that and everything else, I pretty much looked like a woman. I swear at some point they must have done something to make me shorter, I felt at least an inch or two closer to the ground. I had some nice full hips due to some surgery and the hormones, a nice and tight, round, ass and some slender legs; even without a real pair of tits, I was hot. However, that would all change the next afternoon when I was given my breast implants. Breast implants that felt as natural and real as any breast I had ever touched, which I grant hasn't been many, most of my life I had be a loner and found women hard to approach and talk to. I had not even really ever had a serious girlfriend and was still a virgin. Would it stay that way? Would I ever get to have sex with a woman as a man? The implants fleshed out my tiny barely B-cup mounds to some nicely shaped C-cups. They were not ridiculously sized for my body and fit my shape well, they were the perfect sized, hung naturally and there was no trace of scars or artificiality, as well they were VERY sensitive. Wearing a bra was necessary now, I do not know if it was the surgery, hormones, or what but the simple brushing of my shirt material on them just felt strange to me. Not uncomfortable, but not quite arousing either. Something in between, I guess. My nipples also had great sensitivity. For the most part my transition was done, aside from one obvious fact I was all woman to anyone else who would look at me. Nothing about me looked like my old self, nor looked like a man. My manhood was taken care of with a remarkable gaff designed just for me. It allowed me to urinate and do other bathroom duties without any trouble, and it would give me the appearance of a camel toe when dressed certain ways. Even when nude I would look female as my penis and balls were well hidden the prosthetics produced the right look. Wearing tight enough pants and you would see the outline of my "pussy's" lips and maybe even my "clit," The device's straps and bindings were covered my skin folds and my pubic hair. I was warned that the only way it would be visible would be if I completely shaved down there. Somehow I doubt that'd be a problem for me, no one was going to see me in this state enough to even see this elaborate thing, let alone appreciate seeing my nethers shaved. It was surprisingly comfortable to wear, actually, and the hormones I had cut off my testosterone so much that I had not had a real, good, solid erection for quite some time and would only get mildly stiff and my balls had shrunk a bit. In short everything was more open to being moved and pushed around without any discomfort when moving, sitting, crossing my legs or using the bathroom. I looked at myself nude in the mirror my last night there, the gaffe was on, my legs were waxed and I had even allowed the female staff there to help me to shave and trim my pubic hair to a nice triangular patch of it. Standing before me in the mirror essentially was a woman. Nothing in the mirror said otherwise. I made various poses in the mirror looking at myself from various angles and struggled to find one that showed of my manhood and I could not do it, the gaffe did a good job of hiding it and giving me a female look and, somehow, not all of this bothered me. Maybe I had gotten used to this idea, the hormones had tempered me, but overall this person in the mirror was interesting to me. At the same time, I thought, "Reversible, my well-shaped ass." Do not get me wrong, I was still scared to death and wanted very little do with living as a woman in any capacity but I was a bit less scared about doing this now and thought it would work. I certainly did not look like the man I was or the person the mob was likely looking for. I sighed, slipped on a long nightgown and settled in to bed, cuddling up to a pillow, my breasts pushed into it, the moonlight glistening off my bountiful cleavage from the bay window in front of me. The following morning I woke up, today I would be moving into my new apartment in The Gardens and three days from now, Monday, would begin my search for a job. The apartment I was to live in was already selected and set-up for the most part by an agent who helped settle people into their new identities. This agent, Heather, would live with me for the next few months to help me transition into the new life, pose, and act better as a female, with all of the surgeries little time was taken for "training." I swung my legs over the bed and looked down at my hairless, slim legs, leading down to my dainty feet that had been perfectly manicured with a pink toenail polish. The exercises I had been on to fit my body and to help adjust to my new smaller feet had done my legs well. I walked over to the full-body mirror in the room and looked at myself. My legs traced up my body to my nicely rounded hips, trim body -not too skinny, not too fat, and then to my lovely b-cup breasts, finally there was my feminine face framed by my shoulder length auburn hair with a serious case of bed-head. The weak morning-wood in my gaffe and panties was weak but it was there, I certainly did not feel much sexual drive lately, but again a look in the mirror showed a sexy woman with every line and curve she should have something that would drive a man wild. I shuddered at that thought that was going to be my toughest hurdle to overcome, to get used to the idea that I was now a sex object. We all know the cliches but we all know also know they are true. Walking down the street in even pajama pants and a t-shirt, I would turn some heads from my ass, to my tits, to my face. To everything about me. Give me manhood any day over that crap. My walk and mannerisms were still very much masculine as I had not worked much with my trainer yet given the truncated time schedule with my surgeries. I suppose that's why she's going to be living with me for next few months in order to "train" me, after that she drops off the lease and I'm on my own.; a twenty-something single woman making her way in the big city. The government would mostly be staying out of my way while they build this case against the mob while my job was mostly to live my new life and wait for the phone to ring. After that, who knows? Would I keep living my new life? Would I go back to trying to live my third life as a very feminine looking man? What does my future hold? I had always wanted to settle down, have kids, a wife, and a normal life. However, my hunger for a donut one morning did me in. James Howard was no more, dead and buried for almost three months now, in his place the name I picked for myself, hell the only selection I got, Melanie Collins. Heather picked me up at the clinic and we were now waiting to go through the TSA checkpoint at the international terminal of the airport, it was a blistering hot, humid, summer day so after some urging from my companion I agreed to wear the type of clothes that'd be most comfortable in this situation. Originally, I wanted to wear just sweatpants and a sweatshirt but I was told death by heat exhaustion would not do me any favors. So here, I was standing in the airport in front of countless people, wearing a pair of black mid-thigh yoga shorts, a black tank-top with pink trim a nice pair of sandals; very little makeup and I simply brushed my hair out neat. Heather insisted on such a skimpy outfit revealing and displaying my body to get used to the idea of drawing eyes to me. I was a bundle of nerves waiting in line to go through the scanner, having nothing with me but a simple small purse. "So," Heather smiled over at me. "How do you feel?" A tightness in my stomach and I said, "On display." Heather brushed back her blonde tresses, looking every bit of the vacationing college-girl look I had, though maybe a but more clad, "Better get used to it, hotties like us attract attention," she flashed me a smile as if we'd been girlfriends forever and hadn't just met about an hour ago. I shifted uncomfortably, my arms crossed trying to look as nonchalant as possible, "See, you're standing all wrong," Heater said. "You're standing with too much tightness in your shoulders. You're not a line- backer preparing for the snap you're a young woman on holiday, let down your tension." I tried to do it a bit, but still felt nervous. "That's a bit better, now remember to walk how said, small steps let your arms sort-of gracefully swing, and try and step one foot in front of the other to give that booty of yours some swing." I tensed up some when she mentioned my booty. "You realize I've no interest in drawing attention to my ass, right?" "Perhaps, but it's still the best way to walk to look as female as possible." Gritted teeth. "Okay, I'll try." I was up next in the security line, I handed over my ticket and passport by practically thrusting it into the his out-stretched hand, he gave them both a look over, looked me over, then turned to the CB thing on his shoulder and spoke softly into it. I swallowed hard thinking the gig was already up, when he spoke: "Ma'am, you've been randomly selected for a secondary screening process. I need you to step over here so another agent can pat you down for weapons." I had not quite yet perfected my voice; thankfully, I had a small enough Adam's apple so I did not need a tracheal shaving but there still was a bit of "maleness" in my natural voice. Right now, I sounded almost female. "Secondary screening?" I said indignantly with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, our system randomly selects passengers for a pat-down to ensure the safety of our passengers, you're the latest selection." I raised my voice a bit and threw out my arms to say "take a look" to the agent, "Where would I hide something in this outfit?!" The agent gulped a bit. "Ma'am, if you decline the screening you are welcome to stay here and find another means to get home but if you are flying with us today you need to get the pat down." Heather finally piped in and said, "Mel, just do it, I want to get home." "Fine," I said with a huff. The agent directed me to the area where the secondary screenings were and I stormed over there inside of a semi-private shroud. "Okay, ma'am, raise your arms, separate your feet and just try and to relax," one of the men doing the screening said. "Whoa, whoa, whoa; I thought female passengers get a female agent." I could see the smirk on the man's face forming, "Well, we're short- staffed today so it's either me or you can take the bus." Ugh, this was ridiculous, so I just rolled by eyes and made the Michelangelo-man pose and let the guy do his damn job. I had gone through the secondary-screening process before in the past when the heavier security procedures at TSA started and I was taking a "stand" against being exposed to the X-Rays of the scanner so I had had some experience with how the screenings went. This was not it. Not by a long shot. The man gently brushed his hands across my shoulders and arms then traced the form of my torso, lightly grabbed by tits and lifted them up, I swear he gave me a bit of a nipple pinch/twist as the thumbs and index fingers pulled from my breasts towards by back with his hands. In fact know he did it as for a moment it seemed like electricity had just shot from my breasts into the core of my loins and I felt a deep warmness inside of my body, though restrained by the elaborate gaff and binders I swear I stiffened a bit in my manhood. From my breasts, his hands went down my torso and he pushed his hands around my stomach, the small of my back, and traced down my hips. All this time he was standing behind me. Soon my breathing got deeper as he moved from my waist over my butt, then he simultaneously traced down my thighs and walked over in front of me. At this point, slightly crouched, he moved his hands up the inside of my legs and it was at this point it dawned on me he had been doing all of this with his bare palms. It had always been my understanding TSA agents had to do this with the backs of their hands while gloved. Now I grew nervous, as I knew what was coming next and I was not entirely confident that the gaffe and cosmetic appliance gave a realistic female look and feel. Sure, in the shorts I had on, I looked like a normal female and even traces of my "camel toe" may be visible. Hell, if I were nude it would look like any other woman the gaffe blended in very nicely with my skin and did not hinder any bathroom needs, it felt very natural and looked realistic. Nevertheless, looking like a lovely mound of paradise is completely different from feeling like one. His hands reached my mound and he lightly traced up flattening his palms as he got higher up by front, mostly staying on my thighs but his thumbs certainly caressed what would be my labial opening and he managed to put enough pressure there to cause a stir in my restrained cock. I was breathing deeply now, I was rock hard and sexually pent up. The handsome young blonde man looked me in the eyes and said, "Looks like you're clean, ma'am. Feel free to go." I was shocked and stunned as he spoke, he had managed to get me so aroused by touching nearly every part of my body, having new sensations with softer and more sensitive skin, with the easier arousal in my nipples; I was in an utter fog. By the time he said "go" I felt some of that tension release within me. Something incredible had just happened and it was something I did not think was possible. I had just came without any direct stimulation. "Ma'am?" He asked. "Wha... What?" "You can go now, you're clean," he said with a bit of a wink and a smirk. "Oh... um... Yeah," I said softly, somehow finally landing on my female voice, a perfect pitch of flintiness, softness and femininity. The type of a voice a man would hear and instantly fall in love with, wanting to hear as often as possible. "Oh, um," I stammered. "Thank you." "Any time," he said with a wink. I walked out of shrouded area and gave a slight look over my shoulder back at the man; I saw him and the TSA agent from the gate sort of shaking hands and laughing with one another. "Are you okay?" Heather asked me. "What?" I said starting to come out of it. "You seem dazed out, are you calmed down now about the screening?" "Oh, um. Yeah. I just need to get to my seat and get some food in me." I started to walk off towards the jet-ramp. "Looks to me like you need a cigarette," she said wryly. "What?!" I shot back. "Nothing, at least you've got the voice down, it seems, and you're walk is a lot better now." I did not even dignify her with a response and just starting walking towards the jet-ramp, but I really began to wonder what had just happened to me, what it all meant, and where I was going from here. In the air we sat silently for most of the time when Heather leaned over to me, I was in the aisle seat with my legs crossed and looking down at my feet, bored. I was entertaining my self mostly by flipping my shoe on and off with my toes, Heather looked to me and said, "Do you want to talk about it?" I flatly told her I did not. It was an unusual experience to be sure and I was coping with the thoughts of what happened. I was not exactly sure how to cope with it but I began mostly to write it off as just being a combination of pent- up sexual energy over the last few months, dealing with the hormonal changes in my body as well as the new sensitivities it had. After being out of that situation and able to think it all over I was shocked and mad at myself for allowing a man, of all things, to get me so aroused and to have release. I had no attraction to men at all, that much was certain. I looked around the plane at the people on it, at the flight attendants, no interest in the men, none whatsoever. Saw plenty of cute women around, many with whom I would love to have a chance. Not in my current state, of course, though I guess that had a certain appeal too. Hmmm... was I lesbian? The rest of the plane ride and trip to the apartment building in The Gardens was mostly uneventful; Heather began chatting with me in the privacy of the car starting to tell me everything she felt I needed to know to pass for being a female. "Why do I need to know this stuff? Even with the mob looking for me they are not going to expect I got 90% of a sex-change and then started living it up in snooty-ville. What are they going to see me walking a little funny and instantly know who I am?" Heather looked over at me and gave me a bit of a stare that seemed to say, "Don't play with me on this." "Regardless, the more you fit in and present this personality the better it will work and the easier it'll be for you to live this way for the next ten years..." She trailed off as she said that and bit her lower lip. I dropped my mouth and looked back at her, "Ten years?! Wait, wait, wait. No one said this whole thing would take the next decade of my life! I can't live as a woman for ten years!" Heather sighed deeply, looked over and said bluntly, "Look. These types of RICO cases against large mob organizations take a long time to construct and prosecute. The mob, especially Parisi has gotten very, very good at stalling the judicial process and stretching out even the most serious of charges over years by tying them up in court and getting continuances. It could be ten years it could be six months, look we're at the apartment, forget I said anything." I was fuming inside, I had no idea what I had gotten into and it was far too late to do anything about it. The apartment was a very nice place; I lived on the second floor of a 5- story walkup in a spacious two-bedroom apartment, the kind of place city-dwellers salivate over to get on a sublet when a tenant dies or moves. The hallway leading to my front door was narrow, only enough room for maybe two people, and I was awkwardly trying to move my bulky suitcase to the door. Having less muscle made this a bit difficult, I was just at my front door when the across-the-hall neighbor's door opened and out stepped a good looking man probably about my age; we almost bumped into one another. "Oh, excuse me." He blushed as he noticed me, flashing me his perfectly white teeth with a smile. Strong jaw line, clean-cut look, he must've been going to work out as he was wearing a long tank-top and knee-length running shorts. "You just moving in here?" he asked, again flashing a dashing smile. "Oh, um, yeah," I said. I was in no mood to be hit on. "Well, here, let me help you with that!" he said eagerly. Before I could really respond he had grabbed the suitcase out of my hands and carried it inside, guiding me into my own damn apartment with his hand on the small of my back. He looked around the fully furnished apartment, and nodded his head in approval. "Well, looks like you're pretty much moved in. Thought I heard some moving going on this week! So you here by yourself or..." "Well, I..." I stammered. "Nope! I'm living here too!" Heather chirped, coming out from her bedroom. "Great!" he exclaimed. "It'll be nice having some lovely young ladies living so close to me for a change!" I rolled my eyes; tone it down, dude. Heather giggled. "Well, I'm just living here for a couple of months to help Mel, here, settle into the city. After that she'll be all on her own!" "Oh!" he said, again maybe a bit too enthusiastically. "So you're new to the city I take it?" "Well, I...." "Yep! Brand new. She used to live out in suburbia but finally she got the opportunity she's been looking for to live the big life." "Well, I look forward to see you gals, later. I have to meet with my trainer, so I have to go. My name's Curtis, by the way." "Nice to meet you, Curtis. I'm Heather and that there is Melanie, but I just call her Mel." I smiled and nodded a bit, obviously not really a part of this conversation. "Melanie, I really love that name!" he said, I swear every time he looked at me he just had to flash me a smile. "Well, see you ladies later! Maybe tonight we can get together for some drinks or something?" "Perfect!" Heather chirped. "Great! Well, I'll stop-by this evening then!" and with that he jogged out the door, and out of my life, for now. I plopped down on the couch with a heavy sigh and just wanted to bask in the A/C for a while and enjoy a comfortable seat and take a load off. "Well, he seemed, nice!" Heather said, getting us some water from the fridge. "Yeah, whatever." Heather sighed. "See! That's why I wouldn't let you talk, you're losing your voice again. Man, do I need to get a TSA guy to molest you some more to get it back?!" I shot her a dirty look. "Sorry, too far." There was pretty much nothing to do in the apartment, Heather and her crew had done a good job of setting things up nicely, only thing I needed to do was unpack the clothes I had from the clinic. Simple clothes, shirts, shorts, skirts, whatever. Heather had taken some of my base sizes and provided me with a slightly wider wardrobe in the apartment but we were supposed to go out tomorrow to shop for more clothes, requiring me to be there. Fun. For now, more work from Heather on voice, walking, sitting, posture and all sorts of nonsense. "Look," she said, "you need to make sure when you walk you mostly put one foot right in front of the other. This will give you a nice, graceful, walk and a bit of a swing to you butt. Also, make sure you're taking short steps, when you're putting one foot in front of the other I want no more than half a foot-length between the toes of one foot and the heel of the other." Ugh. I hated this. I walked fast and took long strides; I got to where I was going as soon as I could. "That doesn't matter anymore. You need to look somewhat graceful and like you have some semblance of interest in your surroundings, not charging to a wall or something." It took some concentration, some fighting, and my unstable emotions mostly going out of control but finally after a couple of hours I think I finally got my walk perfected. "Good, not 'I just had TSA sex good,' but good." I really wondered about this woman, and why she kept bringing this up, something that was obviously troubling to me, she must have noticed the expression on my face, as she spoke up again. "Look. Sorry I keep bringing that up, I'm just trying to tease you a little bit to get you to forget about it. If you want to talk seriously about it you can." "No, no you're right," I said. "But there's nothing to talk about, really. The guy was a little inappropriate, perhaps, but I guess he didn't do anything too bad. Uncalled for and unprofessional, but I'm making too much of it. To move on I really should be cracking wise about it more. It was just a... odd experience for me." "You've got emotions and hormones you're not used to, sweetie, you're entitled to some mood swings and some reactions you would not normally have." She gave me a slight hug, and said we should go get a late lunch as we were both hungry; but first I needed to change. I looked through my modest wardrobe and selected a simple pair of jeans and a white baby-doll tee; I slipped my bare feet into some white ballet flats and just did my hair up in a clip. If we were just going to a caf? then I did not need to look fabulous. A look in the mirror showed I still looked hot, though. The jeans rode low on my hips, hugged every curve of my ass and legs and combined with the t-shirt showed off my navel. It seemed like it was impossible for me to not look hot. Whatever. Living in The Gardens meant you pretty much walked everywhere; literally, anything you could ever need was at the very most a half mile away from everywhere else, maybe a mile at the most. Walking down the street, I concentrated on everything Heather had taught me regarding how to walk "right" and I seemed to be doing well at it, after a few blocks I no longer had to concentrate. I noticed a lot of the men who walked by us would swing around and look at me as I passed, look at me from across the street and I swear some idiot almost sideswiped a parked car, there may have also been a car honk or two. The t-shirt had a low-cut neck hole so a bit of my cleavage showed and it hugged every curve my nice bosom had to show off. In comparison Heather was, well, in all respect to her was average looking. She was good-looking, sure, blonde hair that flowed down to mid-back, pretty face, but she had skinny legs, no breasts and no ass. Not entirely, my type but, as I used to say, I wouldn't kick her out of bed either. No, compared to my curvy body she did not compare much to me in the looks department. She was dressed in a flinty sundress and wearing heels in all honesty a bit more femininely dressed and calling for more male attention as she had some more skin showing, but I guess I was wearing clothes that hugged all of my curves. Finally at the caf? we quickly got good seats outside in the patio area and our menus. "Let me know if I can help you ladies with anything," said the waiter with a flirtatious grin. Was I this obvious when talking to women? Heather had told me that I should feel free to order anything I want but to keep in mind to try order "daintily", smaller sizes and not be so aggressive when I ate. I just went with simple grilled chicken pasta with a light pesto sauce, and an iced tea. She got a friggin salad, with a little bit of olive oil, and a glass of water. I took small bites and decided I didn't want to chat much with Heather, mostly out of fatigue and some annoyance. "How are you ladies doing today?" I heard suddenly. I looked up from my food and saw some beefy guy grab a chair and he sat down in it backwards at our table; he grinned at us like a giant douchebag and acted as if he was doing us a favor just by talking to us. I simply rolled my eyes, ignored him, and went back to my food. Heather started chatting him up, talking about "herself" -really her cover story- and all of that but the guy didn't seem interested in what she had to say and finally gave me a light slap on the arm with the back of his hand and said, "So what's your story?" I was done eating at this point and just sighed while sipping my tea. "Me? Oh, I'm a bitch." Heather turned to me and I saw her jaw drop. The guy was a bit non-pulsed at just smiled. "Wow, I like a woman who's so frank and to the point!" "Whatever." "Well, hey, ladies. I've got to book but I think it's been great seeing you two so why don't you meet up with me tonight at this club." He handed out a flyer. "Real fun place, great live bands, awesome drinks, good times." Heather was receptive to him and the invitation and said we would try and to make it. I just kept with my tea. "As for you," he said in my direction. "I'll wear you down, no one can resist me!" he said that while doing that douchey thing some where they point and click their tongue. "The Firehouse," Heather said reading from the flyer. "I've heard of this place. Supposed to be pretty hip." "Not interested," I just said. "Well, we've got to see Curtis anyway tonight." "Right," I said. "Him." Heather just sort of waved my short responses away, we left the caf? and went back home, I just plopped down on the couch, laid down and decided to take a nap, I was exhausted; she must have noticed my exhaustion as she didn't say a word to me and just let me sleep. I woke up probably an hour or two later to someone knocking on the door, Heather did not appear to be home so I got up and answered it only to see Curtis there dressed up nicely. "Hey, what's up?!" he said. "Hey, I just thought I'd come over and see if you still wanted to do something tonight." I thought about it for a moment and almost wanted to turn the guy down but then I realized he had invested a lot of into me emotionally and I really did not want to let him down, after all he seemed nice enough. "Sure, why not," I said with a bit of a smile. "Great! Well the place I want to go to doesn't really get going until 9:00 so you want to hang out for a while before we leave?" It was about five in the evening, so I guess leaving now would be too soon and I was not ready to eat again. "Oh... Sure. Um, why don't you come in?" He did so and I invited him to sit on the couch, offered him a glass of water, got one for myself and sat down on the couch as well. The far side of the couch. "So where's your roommate.... Heather?" he asked. "I've got no idea, I woke up from my nap and she appeared to be gone." "Well, I hope she gets back." We sat silently on the couch for a moment just sipping at our water. "So what do you do?" he finally asked. "Oh, me? Ummm... Well I'm mostly an office manager." "Where at?" "Well, I don't really have a job yet..." "Oh, I thought you moved here because of a big job you had?" "Well... yeah. I just... Well, I can easily get one with the experience I have and I've got lots of money in savings so I thought it was time to move up." "I see," he said. There was another moment or two of awkward silence. "What do you do?" I finally asked. "Well, I'm in business, too. Hey, I can probably get you a job in my office; we could use a good office manager!" "Okay!" I said actually a bit too brightly. He smiled. Finally, Heather came in the door with an armload of groceries, "Hey! Look who is awake!" she cheered. "Yeah. Curtis came over you still interested in going out with him tonight?" "You bet!" Where did this woman find all of her energy? "Well, I've got the perfect place, then," Curtis said, clasping his hands together, "Great club I go to all of the time, it's called "The Firehouse." This was going to be an interesting evening, probably for all of us. To his credit, Curtis was right, it was a nice club; located on the nearby club street. This was obviously the club to be at; it had a line that stretched around the corner. We would be standing there for an hour waiting to get in. Heather was wearing a tight, but simple, black dress showing off what little curves her reedy body had to offer and as I had no real extensive wardrobe, yet I was simply in a black skirt, white halter-top and accessorized with black hose and just some black "dressy" shoes with a low heel. I was in no mood to try being in high-heels all night long, my hair was still pretty simple as I was still working on growing it out and there was not a whole lot I could do with it at this point. Walking down the street Curtis insisted we each took one of his arms, it was awkward to see my thin, dainty, arm slip in between his much more muscular one, my pretty, manicured nails painted a deep shade of red wrapped around him. It was not exactly a comfortable experience for me. "I didn't know there was going to be such a wait, maybe we should..." I began to say, Curtis interrupted me and flashed a smile, "Don't worry about it, hon." Instead of heading for the front entrance Curtis lead us down the alley and then knocked on a rear door. It opened and someone who was obviously a cook gave Curtis a warm greeting including that "bro handshake" that some guys do and invited us on in. We took a quick trip through the kitchen and then out into the club proper. The music was loud but not so loud that it could overpower a conversation you were having and it was actually pretty good music, "Right now the DJ's just playing something, they'll have live cover bands playing on and off over the course of night," Curtis yelled over the noise into my ear. I just smiled and nodded. I guess living in suburbia played a large part of it but I had never really been to a club like this before, more often that not it was me and work buddies at TGI Fridays watching whatever game happened to be on that night. Dozens of young pretty people were all over the place dancing, having a good time; tables were full of more young pretty people enjoying drinks and whatever dinner and food selections this place offered. It was actually pretty lively and hip. "Oh! I think I see a friend!" chirped Heather and she quickly broke contact with Curtis and ran off into the crowd. Curtis smiled back at me and sort of gave me a "What's with her?" look and shrugged. "I have a table reserved for us over here," he said with a point beginning to lead me by the small of my back to the seating area, something about him touching the small of my back gave me a thrill. Indeed, he had a table reserved for him, a large one considering our small party; I began to get nervous and asked if we were expecting more people. "Nah, it's my usual table. Sometimes I come here with lots of friends we like to have space for ourselves or whomever we might meet or bring." "I see." The waitress or whatever she's called approached quickly and Curtis quickly ordered himself a bourbon, "and for you, sweetie?" she asked me. "Oh... um. I'm not sure..." I said sort of trailing off. "Bring her a margarita," Curtis spoke for me. The waitress nodded and went off to fetch our drinks. I sat there awkwardly with Curtis for a while, not sure what to say or do. I was nervous in this situation, I felt all eyes on the room on me, even though there was plenty of other women to gawk at, I did not know how to handle being here; it was a lot to take on my first evening out in the real world as a woman. "Did you want to dance?" Curtis asked. "I... I dunno. I'm not very good at it," I stammered. "Oh, you'll get the hang of it, just have fun!" He got up, took me by the arm, led me out into the dance floor, and began doing some kind of dance, something similar to what the other men in the room seemed to be doing. There was a great tightness in my stomach as I tried to relax; just let the music work into me and I tried to emulate what the girls seemed to be doing. "There you go! You got it!" Curtis encouraged, probably just trying to be nice. The night ticked on, with nary a sign of Heather in the crowd. As probably a result of drink, I began to loosen up with each trip to the dance floor. When we were not out there, we were back at the table for drinks and more conversation. I mostly let him talk about himself and his family; I had to insist that Curtis was not monopolizing the conversation. Between drink and the noise of the club I did not want to dive into "mine." I was sitting there just listening to him when suddenly a loud, obnoxious, voice boasted out from behind me. "Hey! You made it!" I turned around and there I saw Heather and the guy from the caf? earlier this afternoon. "I didn't see you outside, when did you get here?" I had just slightly opened my mouth when Curtis all but extended the hair on his body to make him look more threatening, and thus protective of his "mate", and spoke up, "She's with me, and I've got... connections." Caf? guy took his turn to show his hand and said, "Well, isn't that something else?" he puffed up his chest, he was obviously a bit more built than Curtis, "Well, are you having a good time?" Meekly, I said yes. Curtis turned to me, "Let's go back out to the dance floor, huh?" I couldn't think of a better idea so I eagerly got up and told him let's go. I looked back at our table and saw Beefy Guy sit down and soon heather came over and sat with him, it looked as if she was talking his ear off but he kept his eyes steadily on Curtis and me. "So who's he?" Curtis asked with an ounce or two of defense in his voice. "Ugh, just some guy who inserted himself into my life this afternoon when I was out at lunch." "Oh..." he said, obviously hurt by something, I quickly realized what it was. "Oh, it's okay. I did not mind it when you talked to me this morning; at least you are a neighbor and offered to help me move. This guy was just trying to pick me up." Curtis smiled again and looked at me. "Well, I'm glad I got to you first, I guess." It was then that a slow song started, I had been avoiding these all night but had no chance right now, "Finally!" Curtis said with a smile. He came in closer to me, put his arm around my waist and pulled me into him, and the slipped his other hand behind me, I awkwardly put my own arms around him. "You want to lead?" he asked me with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, sorry," I said, moving my arms to embrace him around the neck. I looked into his eyes and saw him slightly smile as we moved our bodies together in rhythm with the music. My head was still spinning and foggy, call it alcohol, call it hormones, call it the lack of sleep, bit right now it felt like we were the only two people who mattered. The warmth of his body radiated towards me and he pulled me in closer, I began to feel the beat of his heart through my own bosom which echoed through my body, gradually I felt his hands lower slightly and caress my bottom., somehow it didn't matter to me that this was happening. I could even feel his building erection grinding into me. Either time was slowing down or this was a long song, it felt like we were out there for hours. We were as in sync as the moon, the earth and the tides as we glided on the dance floor to the mellow song, I had to even give in a little and rested my head on his shoulder, closed my eyes and even began to drift into a bit of blissful sleep. Finally, reality all came rushing back as the song ended and something much more upbeat and fast paced began, still in embrace Curtis finally nudged me awake with his shoulders; I looked up, he let out a light laugh and smile, "Song's over, babe." "Oh, yeah," I said. "Come on, let's go sit down. I'll protect you from Captain America over there." We sat back at the table where we were sitting, Bulky Guy was sitting there drinking a beer. "Hey, guys," he said with perhaps a bit too much smugness. "beautiful I got you another drink, on me," he said. I just nodded at him and took the drink. "Where's Heather?" Curtis asked. "Oh, she went to the ladies room or something. Who knows? Sweetheart you dance good out there, how about giving the next one to me?" I just stammered a bit unsure of what to really say, the alcohol tonight had really gone to my head. "It's okay," Curtis said, "give the guy one dance." "Okay, fine," I finally came out with, "one dance is all you get." "It's all I'll need, babe." Heather finally returned and greeted all of us with a chirpy "How you doing?!" She had obviously had a lot to drink. Nevertheless, maybe I had too. I wasn't sure anymore. Curtis asked her for the next dance, since I was going with Bulky Guy. I felt a bit jealous. "Oh, sure!" she said. I finished my drink. Bulky guy pulled me out to the dance floor and we began dancing. It was a bit of a slow number and he was not by any chance letting me get away with dancing anywhere but right up to and close to him. My mind was filling with a fog so it was just all sort of happening, and I seemed to be letting it. I laid my head on his shoulder and began feeling his hands probing my body, his left hand grasping my ass and his other hand cradling my breast, he began rubbing it slightly and I could feel my nipples getting erect. Somehow I did not care, in my foggy mind I watched as his head leaned into mine, his mouth touched mine, and he began probing my mouth with this tongue.... I was powerless to stop it. Inside my foggy mind was crying for this to stop, to end this, but somehow those emotions were not working their way out of my body. I swear someone was pounding on my head with a giant mallet, I tried opening my eyes but the bright sunlight of the outdoors blinded me instantly so I strained to keep them closed. What had happened? My awareness was slowly coming back to me through a fog of a pounding headache and nearly every inch of my body aching. When the previous night's events came rushing back I sat bolt upright to see where I was, making myself dizzy in the process. As my eyes adjusted to light, I noticed I was back in my own apartment, still in the clothes I was wearing lastnight. I was on the couch in my living room, sitting on the floor next to me was a small wastebasket filled with vomit. "What the hell?!" I wondered aloud. My voice was a bit hoarse. "Hey, you're up!" Heather's voice called from the kitchen. "What... What happened?" I asked. "Here, babe, I got you a cup of coffee," she sat down a cup of black in front of me, not how I normally took my coffee but the way I was feeling right now it'd do just fine. Heather explained to me that last night, apparently, the Bulky Guy slipped me a date-rape drug and he just about gotten me out of the club when she and Curtis noticed and then came to my rescue. I shuddered to think what would have happened had he gotten me home. "You've got to be more careful about just taking drinks from guys, you never know what they have in mind." I groaned a bit and just simply said, "Thanks for the tip. Don't worry; I don't think I'll be doing much more clubbing." "Anyway, Curtis gave him a good talking to; Curtis is a great dancer by the way, I can see why you'd have such stars in your eyes when you were out there with him." What was she implying? Was she trying to say I was enjoying my dance out there with Curtis? That I had some kind of crush on him? "What? No way, these stupid hormones I'm on are probably messing me all up." "Uh-uh, babe. I don't think hormones work like that." Whatever, it wasn't as if she was a biochemist or anything, what did she know? "Curtis says he's sorry about what happened and that he'll stop by later to see how you are doing." "Great," I said taking the last sip of my coffee and then laying back down on the couch, the clock on the cable box said it was almost noon which means I had been asleep for something like 12 hours. "Ugh." "Well, I had planned on us getting some shopping done today, you still need a larger wardrobe, but I guess it was my fault for taking us out to party last night." "Yep," I groaned. "Sorry about that, I just don't get to the city much and I suppose I was overwhelmed by everything. Besides I wanted to help you better fit in with your neighbors and the life you have now." "Whatever." "Anyway, I'll leave you alone. I have some of your measurements so I can do some shopping for you, but tomorrow we have to, have to, get you out there to get some things." I was in and out of consciousness all day, at one point I got up and pulled off my clothes, the gaffe and just threw on some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, I did not feel like being bound in any way. I just wanted to chill out, lay there and watch TV. It was early evening when there was a knock on the door, Heather still was not home so I had to check it out, looking through the peephole, I saw that it was Curtis. Crap. I looked down at myself, hardly presentable but under the circumstances, it would have to do. The biggest problem being a slight bulge where one should not be, the hormones took care of size and erections for the most part but still. I reached under my pants and underwear tucked little mister back a bit and then opened the door. "Hi," I said, groggily. "How you feeling?" he asked with a worried Smile. I told him I was feeling fine, invited him in and then plopped myself back down on the couch, making sure to lay in such a way to best cover up anything that may show itself, Curtis took one of the recliners that flanked the couch. He apologized profusely for what had happened, I told him not to worry about any of it, he and I were fine. I don't know why I felt the need to reassure him that he and I were cool, it just seemed like something he wanted to hear. I honestly didn't blame him, or Heather, for what had happened. It was my own fault, I didn't trust the guy in the first place and here I had stupidly just accepted a drink from him. That was the old "guy me" slipping back in thinking he was just another guy buying another guy a drink. I had forgotten that I was an object of conquest to him. I had gone to one or two bars with friends from work like that. Again, clubs were never my thing as a guy but I did hang out with friends from time-to-time at bars, and a co-worker once did under my observation slip a roofie into a date's drink. He got some high-fives and "good lucks" from others in our group, not from me. I just kept my mouth shut, and watched as the guy led the groggy woman out of the bar when the drug took hold. I now felt for her and what likely happened. I never found out, as after that night I never hung out with that guy again. Would it have served me right to be raped last night? I didn't step in when I knew something bad was happening. Curtis and I again engaged in idle chitchat, he made me a quick, light, meal with our sparsely stocked kitchen, "You must need something to eat!" he said. I sat-up in the couch, crossed my legs in an Indian-style -still ensuring I was concealed- and thanked him. It was not much more than a bologna sandwich and a Sprite, but it was still a sweet gesture. The headache was mostly faded, I looked up at him as he watched me eat, and I blushed a bit. I sort of smoothed out my hair a bit and just said that I must look like a mess, with the smeared make-up from last night still on my face, the hair and everything. "Nah, you look fine," he reassured, "a woman can look her sexiest when she first wakes up in the morning.' "Thanks," I think I may have actually blushed. He glanced down, "The trashcan full of vomit sort-of takes away from things a bit." I giggled. I fucking giggled. At that. What was wrong with me? And what was happening. Against the sunset of the large bay window in our big city apartment, I sat there curled up in the couch eating a bologna sandwich, Curtis being respectful to me and still sat on the chair across from me not making a move to my position. We talked for what seemed to be hours. He talked about his dreams, hopes, and his childhood. I was able to offer quite a bit of my childhood as the vague background I had on myself matched my real one with obvious differences, mostly gender- specific ones and where I exactly had grown up. Different enough to not be "mine", same enough to be something I could easily remember and talk about without having to make it up as I go along or worry about inconsistencies. Sunset gave way to night, and we eventually just started watching some movie on TV. It began to feel like I was sitting there with an old friend. I never noticed it happening, but Heather must have came home at some point, made her self something to eat and then sat down in the other chair to watch the movie with us. My gaze for some reason had mostly been focused on either the TV or Curtis. It was a surprise when I glanced over and saw Heather sitting there in the side of my vision. "Oh! When did you get here?" "I've been sitting here for an hour, you freak!" she smiled at me. "I don't blame you for not notice your attention has been elsewhere," she said with a wink. I dropped my mouth open, made an loud scoff and tossed a throw pillow at her, she gave it a slight dodge and giggled at me, tossing a piece of chip at me. It landed on my boob, I just simply took it and popped it in my mouth and went back to ignoring her. "Man, that's all the girl fight, I get to see?!" Curtis said with a smile. "Yep, sorry," I said with a bit of a flirtatious grin. I excused myself for a moment and padded into the bathroom. Not only did I really need to use it but also I took that chance to wash the smeared make-up from a day ago off my face and to put the gaffe back on. I looked at myself in the mirror, a pretty young girl who was basically in her pajamas with messy hair looked back at me. It's been two days in a new life of mine and I was nearly date-raped and had a touching, regular evening with a genuinely nice man. A man who actually reminded me of everything I wanted to be back in my own life. Two days, two days out of who knows how long. What laid in store for me down the road? Back in the living room, I sat back down on the couch, Curtis on the far end of it. Somehow, I think I had trusted him as I looked over at him again. His muscular arms coming from his sleeves, a nice toned chest straining under his shirt, chiseled jaw, clean cut. Handsome. I was still "man" enough that I could say that, he was a handsome man. He must have n