Star ChamberChapter 3 The Lease Agreement
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A New Lease - Chapter 4 - Boys In The Girls Room free porn video
My computer was already on, as it had to be. It ran the media center
which powered our television, so it stayed on pretty much 24/7. Having
not seen my baby in three months, however, it took me a second to realize
how big it was. I'd spent extra to get a full tower case, and now I
realized I had no hope of even lifting the thing now.
I sat in my chair, and immediately realized I was going to have to make
some adjustments. I wasn't comfortable with the keyboard tray anymore.
I shrugged it off, put my headset on, and loaded Windows mail. While it
was opening, I opened Firefox. I always enjoyed racing them to see which
one would load first. Firefox won this round, with Facebook greeting me
warmly.
I had never seen so many notifications. Messages, friend requests, they
were more than I'd ever seen at once. Granted, usually all I saw were
comment replies, one or two at a time. Tonight, however, I had all three
boxes lit up, with well over 100 notifications total.
I checked my messages, fortunately they were sorted so that I was only
going to see messages from my current friends. Dozens of people I'd
barely talked to asking how I was doing, mentioning they'd seen me on the
news, and a few perverse comments were from today, then there was a
string of a couple of close internet friends asking where I'd been, and
if everything was okay, dating back every day or so until around the date
of the accident.
The other messages were largely people I barely knew, distant relatives
of myself, of Liz, and of Christine. I honestly didn't have the energy
to individually reply to all of them, so I made a note to make up a mass
email answering all the basic questions.
I switched over to my regular email. Fortunately, that was mostly
business. Copies of legal forms I'd had to sign, general updates, that
sort of thing. My official email was one I very seldom gave out. Back
to Firefox. New tab, Yahoo mail. 2355 unread messages, plus over 10,000
in the spam filter. This was going to be fun. Yahoo was my public
email, easily found.
I had seemingly legitimate interview requests from every news
organization, just from the past day. One company wanted to make a
reality show about me. Another wanted to make a TV movie. A medical
drama wanted to use my story for an episode of their show. I was,
apparently, at minute 1 of my 15 minutes.
I had an offer for an exclusive interview that would pay more than I'd
make in the next 10 years. I had an offer to star in a porn movie that
would pay for my retirement. My head was swimming. This wasn't what I
needed on my first night back in reality.
I opened Reddit in a new tab. I was relatively unknown there, so no new
messages. Nobody knew me there. Peace and quiet. I remembered Liz
telling me there was an AMA request, so I popped over to that forum and
quickly found it, near the top. I posted a quick message, stating I
would do an AMA this weekend. I had just gotten home that day, and
needed a few days to cool down before I dive headfirst into this swarm of
bees. With that, I closed everything, and laid back in the chair. A
million new thoughts were racing through my mind.
I could seriously monetize this unfortunate series of events. I wasn't
about to do the porno, of course, but an interview wouldn't be too hard.
I sit in a room with one other person, a camera, and I get to cry for an
hour. I could do a lot with that kind of money. I could sell my story,
write a book, and do a couple interviews, and probably have a much easier
life.
There was a downside to this, of course. I would have to become an even
more visible public face. That didn't bode well with my generally
private and reserved lifestyle. I was going to have to mull it over, and
it couldn't be a decision I made by myself.
I tried to get my mind off of things by playing some games, but nothing
really worked to distract me for more than a few minutes. Computer was
not my friend tonight. I sighed, got up, and joined Liz in the living
room.
Our relationship had always had an odd dynamic. We were never very
intimate, usually sitting on opposite ends of the couch when we watched
TV together. We usually spent our evenings in seperate rooms, only
spending large amounts of time together at bedtime; so when I joined Liz
on the far end of the couch, it was nothing unusual.
Generic Crime Drama: Different City was on TV. I didn't know the
characters or their motivations, or really anything about the show. It
was background noise. Most TV was to me, with few exceptions. Normally,
I'd pull my phone out and browse the internet while watching TV, but my
phone had been destroyed in the accident, and I hadn't had much need to
get a new one until now.
"Hey," I said, trying to get Liz's attention. She was kind of spaced
out. She did that a lot.
"Hi," came her reply. That's my girl, the wordsmith. A regular bard.
"Whatcha doin?" I'd tried to avoid it, but we needed to talk about
something.
Liz nodded toward the TV.
"So, what do you wanna do tonight?"
"I dunno. Probably sit here until time for bed."
"That's kinda what I meant, about bedtime. Are you gonna be okay
sleeping with...me?"
It was obvious from the look on her face that she hadn't considered that.
She took a minute before speaking, "Well, I've slept alone for the past
couple months. I got used to that, I can get used to this," came her
eventual reply. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but not unacceptable.
"Okay." There was another, related question, but it was a subject
neither of us wanted to be the first to breach.
"So what are you gonna do with all the rejected clothes?" Liz was
apparently being brave, this was the closest she'd come to mentioning sex
since the accident.
"Oh, you know, probably throw them in the trash. Maybe try them on
first, get a job stripping, you know, the usual." Bad jokes were my
coping mechanism.
"Yeah, that sounds about right." Liz barely cracked a smile.
"That does bring up something though," this was it, I was going to bring
it up, it wasn't a question that could go unanswered, "how are we going
to handle the whole sex thing?"
"I don't know. I mean you know I love you. But you also know that this
is weird for me, right?" I nodded in agreement, I knew she was straight,
and I wasn't exactly her ideal mate at this point.
"You know, you haven't kissed me ever since I've been in this body."
"I know. But we haven't had any real alone time since then, either," she
said, sitting up and laying against me. It was different than usual. I
was less than half the size I was the last time we'd cuddled, and Liz was
now larger and heavier than I was. I wasn't prepared for it, but she
pecked me on the cheek. It wasn't much, but it was a lifeline. We were
still connected. Two reluctant lesbians.
Liz laid her head on my shoulder, which pressed her back against my chest
and stomach. Before, just this would've signaled "All Hands On Deck" to
my penis, and she would've felt me poking her from behind. Now, though,
I had nothing to poke with, but sitting here felt relaxing, if slightly
uncomfortable. There was more pressure on my breasts than I'd felt
before, which gave me an odd feeling.
We laid there for a while, wordlessly motionless. My discomfort melted
when Liz laid her head back and kissed me on the lips. It was brief,
experimental, yet sublime. After it was over, however, Liz sat up.
"What's up?" I asked, unsure what was going on.
"I need to take a shower before bed. You do too." She was right. I was
kinda stinky, having not showered properly by myself yet. At the
hospital, they'd bathed me up until I'd been able to walk on my own, and
then I had someone there with me, helping me. It seems like, in their
effort to make sure I'd be a success, they'd failed to give me any time
to figure out how to take care of my new body.
Liz went first, and while the shower was running, I tried to get our dogs
to play with me. They didn't recognize me, which was bothering me. Both
dogs loved new people, but they were treating me like new people, not
like their daddy...well, mommy now. Pronouns were confusing me. When I
closed my eyes, I still felt like a guy. If I closed my eyes and stood
up, I imagined I'd still be taller, heavier, and stronger. Then, I'd
open my eyes, my center of balance would be off, my eye height would be
lower, and I'd get dizzy. That was something that continued physical
therapy was supposed to help with.
I laid back on the couch, examining my point of view. My shirt was baggy
enough, but couldn't completely obscure the two mounds of flesh rising
from my chest. My legs were short, my shirt covering them almost to the
knee, but shapely, ending in two impossibly small extremities that passed
for feet.
Just like when I'd thought about the money I could make from this chain
of events, suddenly I was flooded with the realization that beautiful
women were powerful.
I had to be smart. If I tried too hard to capitalize, I'd become a
quasi-celebrity, which would mean I'd lose any sense of privacy. Privacy
was all too important to me. I struck the offer for a reality show from
the table without a second thought. A few interviews would put me in the
spotlight for a few weeks at best, the rest of the year at worst. Be a
public name for a few months, make a little money, and fade back into
obscurity.
I heard the shower stop running, and I was back to reality. There wore
more immediate needs; I still didn't have complete command over my body,
I was going to be going to physical therapy twice a week for the
foreseeable future, and I was still unable to reconcile everything as
real.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see myself. I saw Christine. I
felt like I was violating her whenever I had to touch myself for any
reason. I had been able to focus on practical issues so far, but how the
hell was I going to fantasize about gaining money and power when I
couldn't even reconcile my identity anymore? I sighed, dejected, and
laid on the couch with my eyes closed until I heard Liz emerge from the
bathroom. I got up and joined her in the bedroom, smiling slightly at
her as I picked out some clean panties. I could just wear the same
shirt afterwards. I chuckled to myself as I realized how bizarre this
was, walking up to my dresser and pulling out distinctly feminine things.
Liz sat on the bed, brushing her hair. I realized I was going to have to
spend significantly more time taking care of myself now, I'd always poked
fun at her spending half an hour in the shower, then another half-hour
afterwards before she was done with her hair. I'd always had long hair,
but never spent more than a few minutes combing it and calling it done.
I realized how easy I'd had it, and the past two months hadn't really
prepared me for how much work I was going to have to do now.
I sat next to her and kissed her shoulder as she finished up. "I'm gonna
go take shower now. Wish me luck," I murmured quietly.
Liz laughed, "Yeah, this is gonna be fun to hear about. Don't hurt
yourself."
"I'll try not to."
I got up, grabbed my underwear, and stopped in the closet to grab a
towel. I entered the bathroom and shut and locked the door behind me,
setting the clothes on top of the hamper, and the towel on the shelf just
outside the bathtub. Reflexively, I pulled the bathroom scale out to
weigh myself. I'd been trying to lose weight for the past few years,
always having been a heavy guy. Weighing myself before I showered every
day was sort of a routine, and I followed the tradition this evening.
As I stepped on the scale, I thought about how foolish I was.
Christine's body was perfect, however much I weighed right now didn't
matter. I glanced at my feet. 108.4 lbs, a third the size I'd been when
I first started losing weight 5 years earlier. One hell of a
transformation, I'd say.
I stripped out of my clothes, threw the shirt on top of the clean
panties, and kicked the dirty ones into the corner of the floor. In our
bathroom, there was a full length mirror on the door, and for the first
time I caught sight of myself completely naked. Naked women were
naturally beautiful, and Christine was no exception. For a moment, I
lost myself, transfixed by the beauty I was staring at, unable to move,
before I shook my head and realized I was staring at myself, and that was
that. I'd never had the ability to fantasize about myself, even in my
sexual fantasies I often imagined myself as faceless.
I had to think practical. That was the only way I could keep moving.
The moment I gave in and started thinking about anything more than a few
steps ahead of me, I started losing focus on who I was now. Right now, I
needed to focus on getting clean.
I took stock of the shower. Liz's tiny bottles of shampoo, conditioner
and body wash sat on the top shelf of our bath caddy. Our razors had
holders that attached to the wall, bath puffs on the next shelf, my body
wash on the next shelf, with my shampoo and conditioner on the bottom.
Well, I could get rid of those. I decided that I was going to live out
this life as a woman, I wasn't going to cling to anything. An industrial
sized bottle of Old Spice body wash, and similar sized bottles of curly
hair shampoo and conditioner went in the trash. I opened the medicine
cabinet, and threw out my deodorant and cologne. Liz had some body spray
she didn't use anymore under the sink, I was stealing that. I'd borrow
her bath stuff tonight, and we'd go shopping tomorrow.
I breathed a sigh, half of relief, and half of worry. Sometimes I felt
like I was going too far with all of this, but I was afraid that if I did
anything only halfway, I'd end up with an even bigger identity crisis
than I was likely already developing. That thought reminded me that I'd
also be seeing a psychologist once a week as well. My therapist while I
was at the hospital had told me I was going to be transferred into this
new doctor's care, but that I still could call her any time I needed.
I'd been in therapy when I was younger, so this wasn't entirely a new
experience.
I snapped back to reality again. I needed to quit thinking so much. I
was still standing naked in the bathroom, and I still needed a shower. I
could smell myself, and it wasn't a pleasant smell at all. I quickly
turned the water on, adjusting it to the right temperature, which
formerly had been an automatic process, knowing which position the hot
and cold knobs needed to be at, then waiting for the hot water to kick
in. Our house was old, so it took a minute or two for hot water to reach
the bathroom. Now, it seemed, I had to fiddle with it for ages before I
could find the sweet spot. It was much cooler than I'd previously been
used to.
I took a deep breath, pulled the curtain back, and stepped into the
shower. Immediately I felt relaxed, water running over me had always had
that effect. I pulled my hair back, letting it get soaked through. I
worked a small amount of shampoo into my scalp, and as I did so, I
noticed the difference between my old hair and Christine's. Mine had
always been curly and rather coarse, but Christine's was straight and
silky smooth. It felt different washing it, that was for sure. I rinsed
the shampoo out, and grabbed my bath puff, squeezing a decent dollop of
Liz's body wash onto it. Hers was creamier in texture than mine, and
these tiny little differences in the way products made for men and women
were astounding to me. I'd never given it much thought, assuming the
only differences were scent-based.
It took me about 5 seconds to figure out that I couldn't rush through
this as I had before. My skin was more sensitive, for one, and I still
felt it was borrowed, and didn't want to damage it. I slowed down,
covering my arms and legs in thick, foamy, soapy goop. I felt the
relaxation of the warm water fade, and a sea of anxiety begin to well up
inside me as I realized what I had left to wash. I was afraid of
scratching my nipples, which had proven themselves quite sensitive, so I
squeezed more body was into my hands, lathered it between them, and
gingerly applied the foam to my breasts.
As long as I kept my mind focused elsewhere, I could ignore the odd
signals my brain was receiving whenever I touched any 'foreign' areas. I
kept thinking about games and strategies as I washed my breasts, and then
lyrics to my favorite songs helped me get through cleaning my vagina.
They had shown me a few tips while I was at the hospital, but this was my
first time flying solo. I think I did pretty well, although I apparently
brushed my clit a few times, which, while pleasurable, was not something
I was quite ready to deal with.
My pubic hair was out of control. I wasn't really sure how to go about
shaving it, so I decided I'd let it go for now. My legs I wanted to
shave, however, it just felt wrong to let legs as sexy as mine go. I
swapped the razor blade on my razor for one of Liz's blades. I gave them
a quick once over, but I barely made a dent in the months of leg hair I'd
grown. Suddenly I realized what took Liz so long in the shower, she did
this, along with keeping her pubic area hairless.
Eventually, I got my legs done, and they felt remarkably smooth. For the
first time since the accident, I enjoyed something I could feel in my new
body. I tried to do my underarms, but I couldn't figure out how to do it
well. I was going to need Liz to show me how to go about both those and
my pubes.
I finished cleaning off, and stood in the shower, trying to relax again.
My first day home as a woman was coming to a close, and as soon as I got
done in here, I could go lay down in my own bed for the first time in
months. I took a deep breath, and shut the water off. Suddenly, the
relaxing torrent of rain was gone, and I was in a silent room, naked,
soaking wet, and alone.
I grabbed my towel and started blotting myself dry. I'd learned to do it
that way at the hospital, apparently it was better. I couldn't tell the
difference after, but I wasn't going to try and go against the grain on
my first night. I went wild drying my hair, though, I did not have the
patience to do anything fancy with it.
I stood in the still-warm bathroom, clutching my towel, stepping gingerly
to avoid slipping. Our bathroom had tile floor which liked to collect
steam droplets and get slick, I'd fallen in there before, and my
coordination still wasn't the best. I reached my clothes pile and picked
up the panties I'd chosen. They were the 'coolest' looking pair I'd
found, black and decorated with a Hello Kitty skull & crossbones. As I
pulled them up over my freshly shaven legs and into their place covering
my pussy, I realized that I kind of enjoyed being able to have cool
things on my underwear. Some of the bras I'd kept had nifty designs as
well.
I sprayed myself with my stolen body spray, making myself smell
distinctly womanly. I draped the Celty shirt over my frame, wiped the
fog from the mirror and looked at myself. It had only been about 20
minutes, but somehow that shower had calmed me. It had given me a sense
of identity. I wasn't Nick anymore, but I wasn't Christine. I was
Nicole, and though I wasn't quite the confident person I wanted to be, I
was myself now.
It may have been a fleeting moment of clarity, but I left the bathroom
that first night home with my head held high on my five-foot-nothing
frame.
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