In Nockton Vale - Man: Wanted - Chapter Two free porn video

Chapter Two A Man in Need of a Woman 1 When I woke up the next morning I got an awful sense of being trapped under the pressure of this house and the work that needed doing to make it decently saleable. How could I ever hope to get it done within a reasonable time frame? It was impossible! Exactly to type, I'd wasted yet another day doing almost nothing and the evening to boot! Why was I such a total loser? I'd accomplished hardly anything in my life. My dressmaking business was something I enjoyed but it hadn't gone anywhere - I was such a ditherer - and now this was going to all go wrong as well. I sighed, forcing myself to get up and climb in the shower. I was tempted to go shopping again today. Maybe I could pick up some nice decorations for the house and have a bit of fun looking at new clothes at the same time... But I recognised a rationalisation when it poked me in the eye. I sighed again, coming out of the shower and wrapping myself in a towel, twirling a second towel around my hair. I sat at my mother's old dressing table and stared sullenly at my reflection, thinking of all the jobs that needed doing. Then I thought again about the ring. What was the worst that could happen? It had only been temporary as long as I wore it. I could take it off at any time. It was just exactly the same as hiring in a workman for the day. And it might be really fun! I smiled mischievously, pulling the towel off my head and sweeping my hair back off my face with my arm. I popped the bigger towel on the bed and quickly put on some panties and a sports bra. I was really quite excited as I padded down the stairs and went to the hall drawer. The ring was in there, exactly as I'd left it. I wondered if this wasn't a really bad idea. But I had changed right back when I took it off. There was absolutely no danger. And it would be wild to do it again - without the fear this time. I took up the ring and looked at myself in the big hall mirror. I looked a tad bedraggled because of the shower but still very feminine and quite sexy. Did I really want to go through with this? I told myself it was just to get some work done on the house, but it had gone past that now. I think I actually just wanted to try it on again for the thrill of it - the experience. I put it over the very end of my finger. The sigils on the curved side glistened. I took one more quick glance into my eyes in the mirror. Then I pushed it all the way on. 2 The second transformation was a whole lot smoother. The sensation spreading from my finger to my heart was no longer what I would have classified as pain. It was an intense ribboning, spreading up the vein of my arm but I knew it wasn't doing any damage. Pain was a warning. This was something else. The ring itself went ice cold again but I wasn't snatching at it in fear this time, I held my hand out in front of me then slowly closed it into a fist. The cold radiated out into my whole hand, throbbing its way into my forearm. The first light flash came, then the second. The house creaked around me as the pressure in the room changed. The shuddering tightness started in my stomach, almost like it was trying to suck me in, then real pain did flash up for a second. I grimaced, screwing my eyes shut, then through my eyelids I saw the final flash and it was over. I was breathing heavily, the sound of it deep and masculine. My hands were covering my face. I could feel the difference already, but when I lowered them, I saw it. I was the man again. I looked exactly the same - same hair and eyes (that I now noticed were brown instead of my usual blue); same chequered shirt and blue jeans; same brown boots. I checked myself over again, feeling the physical changes, checking that it was real. It was. I really was a man. The shock element wasn't there this time. Instead I felt relaxed and comfortable. I took the time to really investigate. I scrutinized my hands and square-cut nails. I touched and prodded my face, stroking the stubble, tracing the contour of my heavy brow and cheekbones. I fingered my short hair, marveling at it. I hadn't had short hair ever - except for a brief and disappointing experiment when I was twenty two. I was always so feminine, but not anymore - not at all. There was absolutely nothing feminine about my appearance now. I frowned. Who was I now? Had I turned into a specific someone else? Did this man really exist somewhere? Had he... Had he turned into me? I shrugged. I had no idea. I wondered if this was just who I would have been if I'd been born a man. There was a very vague similarity to my own looks - to my dad's in my new face. Maybe that was it. I didn't have a clue. I considered unbuttoning the shirt and taking a peak. Did I dare? I glanced round to see if there was a sight line into the hall from outside. There wasn't but I felt weird doing it there. I walked through to the lounge instead, starting work on the buttons. There was curly fair hair on my broad muscular chest, the skin tanned a golden brown. I slipped one rough hand in and stroked my chest, feeling very strange. Obviously my breasts weren't there anymore, which was odd enough, but it was an entirely different sensation from inside and out. This man I'd become wasn't the usual type of man I ended up with - that tended to be skinny arty types - but it was still a very well built muscular and attractive man. I was groping that man's chest, even though it was mine. It was just... weird. I stopped doing it. But I was still curious. I unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way and opened it wide, dropping it off my shoulders and laying it on the sofa. It really was incredible. My torso was like the trunk of a tree. I was carrying a lot of weight but it was hard and taut. I felt so powerful. I'd been a slight woman my whole life, not even particularly athletic. Now, I was suddenly this masculine powerhouse. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. My jeans and boots were all I had left on and the mystery of what lay tucked away in there was suddenly the only thing I could think of. I'd been with men in my time; more than a couple and less than a lot. I'd seen a good share of penises in that time. I'd always found them kind of absurd-looking; such an unwieldy and vulnerable extension on an otherwise tough frame. But men seemed to prize them highly - be almost obsessed with them. Did I really have one of my own now? Surely I must have. And as I thought about it I got just the slightest sensation from down there that I wasn't used to. There was the bulge. All I had to do was unbutton the front of my jeans and reach inside. I reached for the top button, hesitating, then I chuckled, screwing up my nose. I wasn't quite ready for that yet. No way. Not yet. Later. Or not at all. I reminded myself I had work to do now. That was the condition of doing this. Change into the man and then get some work done - push forward with the jobs that needed doing. This seemed so easy. What was stopping me doing this every day until all the work was done in record time? I put the shirt back on. I felt totally different but very comfortable. I would have imagined it feeling utterly weird and uncomfortable. Instead I quite liked it. "Hmmm." I shrugged. What could be the harm? 3 The work was easy now that I was a man. I took to the painting in the hall, easily laying out the dust sheets and moving the ladder into place. I was so big and muscular now it was like nothing to me. I didn't fanny about putting things off, I just got right down to it, filling the paint tray and starting with the brush. I painted the edges, careful to do a perfect job. The paint went on easily. I put the radio on, winced when I heard the love ballad that was playing and tuned it to Radio One. That was much better. With the music on I could enjoy that as I got going. It made the work go faster and easier. I switched to the roller and worked my way along the wall, quickly filling in the blank spaces. I shook my head at the poor job I'd done on the first coat. It was patchy and uneven but I supposed it was only to be expected. Men were much better at this kind of thing than women. I used a brush attached to an extending rod to do the high up sections of the wall. That would have been practically impossible as a weak woman. As a big strong man it was a snap. By lunchtime I'd finished the entire hallway and stairs. Not bad for a morning's work. I'd definitely made the right decision to become a man. I considered changing back into myself to eat but there didn't seem much point. The change itself was pretty dramatic. I wondered if it might even give me trouble if I did it too many times. I felt fine for now but there was no point taking chances. And I was comfortable enough. If I'd been in my own body I'd have had to dry and set my hair, spend half an hour or more getting ready. It was a relief not to have to waste time doing that for a change and just loll about in casual clothes. I went through to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I was ravenous and mostly it was just rabbit food in there. I frowned, mulling over what I fancied, then I remembered spotting some food in the deep freezer left behind by my parents. I already had some rolls. I cracked open the pack and buttered up a couple, slinging two quarter pounders into the oven on a tray. There were a couple of beer bottles at the back of the fridge. I popped the cap on one and took a swig, enjoying the ice cold liquid. While I waited for the food to cook I grabbed the paper from the hall. I hadn't got round to cancelling my mum's subscription yet so they still got delivered. I sauntered back into the kitchen with it and folded it into a column, stroking down the sports pages with my eyes. When my burgers were cooked I laid them out and tucked in, reading an article about a new Portuguese player the English football team had bought in. I shook my head to myself. That was going to be a mistake. Those sunburned peasants knew nothing about soccer. I was still tutting to myself about that when I dumped the pots in the sink. I could do them later. I had proper work that needed doing, not pointless housekeeping. I could deal with that when I was a woman again. There were more important things to do now. The floorboards in the dining room needed stripping and varnishing. I hadn't been planning to do it at all but it was an easy enough job for a man. My dad had an electric sander and a pack of spare sanding sheets. I got that ready then cleared the furniture to one side of the dining room. That would have been impossible with my old body but it was a cinch with my new one. I enjoyed using my strength to do it. It gave me a real sense of pride and satisfaction. I'd been swiping ineffectually at this house for about two weeks as a woman and got almost nothing done. Now I was a man I'd done about as much work in half a day. I chuckled, shaking my head. That was what you got when a woman tried to do a man's job - nowhere fast. I spent a couple of hours sanding the floorboards then moved the furniture to the other side and started work on that. By the end of the afternoon It was done and I was whistling along with the music from the radio happily. I went and sat on the front step with another bottle of beer, enjoying the rest. It was only when I got out there and sat down that I realised I was exposing myself as a man. Anyone could see me like this. I almost jumped up and rushed back inside but I didn't. Instead I shrugged. What did it matter? I was a man. They'd see a man. So what? I wasn't embarrassed. It was normal. The guy across the street was washing his car. I watched that absently for a while, enjoying the beer. Then Mr. Crabtree came out of his front door carrying a bagful of rubbish to the wheelie bin. I narrowed my eyes. He didn't notice me at first and I just watched him, but when he did spot me he looked alarmed, as though he was worried the girl-me had told the man-me about what a bastard he'd been. He broke eye contact immediately and hurried back up his steps. "Hey Crabtree!" I called. He stopped and looked across, trying on a nervous smile. "Yes?" "My... sister was telling me about the way you spoke to her yesterday." He paled. I got to my feet. He shuffled, looking like he was thinking of running inside to hide. "Er, yes, about that..." "I don't want to hear of you talking like that to her again," I said, my voice low and simmering with possible violence. "You get me?" He gaped back at me and then bobbed his head once quickly. "If I hear you have done then you'll have me to answer to. That clear to you?" He bobbed his head again. I managed to stop myself grinning. "Now get back there and clear your shit off our property," I said, thumbing toward the side of the house. "You know as well as I do that's our land, not yours. Alright?" "Yes," he said. "Sorry." He hurried back down his steps and started round the side of the house. I turned my back on him, taking another swig of beer, and now I did grin to myself. The bloke across the road washing his car had paused to watch. He was smiling and gave me a nod. "Nice work," he said. "That guy's nothing but trouble." I nodded back and tipped my beer bottle, feeling great. The beer was giving me a really warm rosy glow and telling Crabtree what for had been the coolest thing I'd ever done in my life. I was never like that but I loved it! The look on his face when he realised I'd beat the crap out of him if he didn't do as I said! I sat back down. The respect from the opposite neighbour was the icing on the cake. It felt marvelous to be admired for taking control of that situation. I could never have done that as a woman - I was a complete wimp - but as a man it had come naturally. I leaned back against the doorframe feeling really happy and relaxed, filled with a new kind of confidence I hadn't even known existed. If this was what being a man was all about then I loved it! 4 On a normal day with me forcing myself to work, I usually told myself I'd done enough by three thirty-four o'clock. Not today. I went right back in there and got to work on checking over the dining room floor. A fair amount of dust from the sanding had covered the horizontal surfaces and there was probably some still in the air. I didn't want to start the varnishing with that waiting to settle so I spent half an hour wiping everything down and left the windows open to clear the air. While that happened I went out into the back garden and started clearing the detritus. There were a lot of old rusted bits of furniture and toys of mine from when I was a little girl. I was normally quite sentimental but there was no use for any of this stuff. It had to go. I smashed it up into pieces, really enjoying the freedom of violent expression. I didn't hesitate on my old toys. They were special to me once but I was an adult now and there was no point keeping old tat. It broke up easily and I shoved the bits into the skip I'd hired a few days earlier. With most of the garden cleared of crap I was getting hungry again. I felt like I could eat a whole cow. I wondered how I would feel when I changed back. Would I still be that hungry? As I was going down to a smaller size, would it be better or worse? But I considered not changing right away. If I changed back then I'd have to eat a salad or something dainty like that. I needed a proper meal. And I bloody well deserved it after my hard day of work. Yeah. I decided to stay a man for another hour or so while I got some proper food in me. I could change back later on a full stomach. The question now, was what to eat. There was nothing left in the freezer and the cupboards were packed with stupid girly foods that wouldn't put a dent in my hunger and tasted like dry seeds. I didn't usually want to waste money on eating out. If I was going to blow funds I tended to do it on new clothes or shoes. Now that I had some distance, I could see how silly and wasteful that was. I'd worked hard. I was well ahead of the game on doing up the house. It was definitely alright to throw a bit of cash at a rewarding dinner. And I was curious about interacting with other people as a man. I'd had a very positive experience with Crabtree and the opposite neighbour. It had felt really good to get such a different quality of respect. I wondered how that would transfer when talking to waiting staff and barmen. It crossed my mind that it was a bad idea, but nothing bad had come of being a man so far. I'd really enjoyed it - far more than I had expected. And I'd already proved I could change back whenever I wanted - just by removing the ring. What the hell, I decided. What was the worst that could happen? 5 I owned a little three door hatchback that really wasn't designed for a man to drive - especially one of my stature. Worse it was decked out with all the most feminine accessories: mauve seat covers, mats and steering wheel to match the exterior paintwork and a big plastic purple flower sticking up from the centre of the dashboard. If I could even get into it I was going to look like a twat. I decided to walk. That wasn't too much of a problem. Chauncy had a smallish shopping centre with several pubs and restaurants. It wasn't too far down the hill from the house. It was nowhere near as up-market as the boutiques in Farley further to the east and a bit higher up the valley wall but it was a step above some of the other suburbs. Normally I would have spent an hour or two getting ready to go out but a glance in the mirror told me I looked fine as I was. The shirt and jeans were a bit dusty and my stubble was almost beard-thick, but I didn't have anyone I was trying to impress. I lingered on my reflection for a bit, eyes moving over this new face of mine. It wasn't quite as jarring now. I wondered that I wasn't petrified of the idea of going outside looking like this but that seemed silly to me. So I was a man. So what? Half the population were men. I looked round for my handbag to get some money but I couldn't find it anywhere. What I did find in its place was a wallet. I gave it a second's thought then popped it open. There was cash inside, a credit and a debit card. I slipped one out of its slot. Geoffrey Stanwick. Geoff. The name I'd joked around with in front of the mirror the day before. I mouthed the phrase, "What the hell?" And my own family name. Like I really was my own brother. I checked the ring. It was just a ring. I thumbed through the wallet again. There was about the same amount of money in there as I'd had in my purse as a woman. Was it possible that...? If I changed back now, would this wallet turn back into my handbag? I scrutinised it for a minute then shrugged. I had no idea. I guess I'd see. But if that was true then this wasn't just a physical transformation spreading through my body like a virus, it was real magic - far reaching enough to give reality a nudge. Did this mean people who knew me as Alison would remember me still? Or would they think I had always been a man? It was a little troubling. I decided to forego my appetite for a minute and jogged upstairs. Inside the wardrobe my woman's clothes were still there. So... that meant my female self still existed presumably. I scratched the back of my neck, thinking about it, then shrugged. It didn't matter for now. I was starving. I could worry about the existential questions after I'd eaten. 6 The walk down to the centre of Chauncy was a pleasant one. It was spring and there was a fresh and optimistic warmth to the air. I enjoyed walking for a change. As a woman I was forever strutting about in heels, unable to walk more than a couple of hundred yards. Now I walked with an easy masculine gait, my big muscular arms swinging lazily back and forth. It took me just over ten minutes to reach the row of shops and restaurants. There was a narrow slip road along the front of the shops with angled parking bays. The shops weren't, on the whole, simply for convenience. There were several fancy goods stores, a cook-shop and some clothing outlets, one of them for surfing gear; even though we were sixty miles from the coast. I ambled past, heading for the steakhouse I knew was at the far end. It was fairly busy inside with the tail end of the early-dinner crowd. The families eating there were finishing up and the more mature later- evening crowd were already getting established. I took a seat at the counter and ordered a beer, taking up the menu. Usually I pontificated endlessly on what to eat. This time I gave it a five second glance and ordered a rump steak and chips. The barmaid took my order and then smiled. "Would you like anything else?" "Not yet, ta love," I replied. "I'll have another beer when I'm done with this one though." She smiled again and withdrew to the kitchen, leaving me wondering if the sparkle in her eyes had been what I thought it was. There was a mirror behind the bar. I looked at myself in it appraisingly. I did look dishy in a rugged kind of way. A figure appeared behind me in the reflection. "Alright mate." I turned. It was the man from the house across the road. I nodded at him. "Oh. Hey." He had a woman with him, his wife or girlfriend. She had sandy brown hair and a friendly face and I had the impression she was checking me out. The man chuckled. "I was telling Debbie here about you giving old Crabtree what for earlier. That was awesome." All three of us laughed. "Well he had it coming," I said. "... the way he talked to my sister." I looked to the woman. "So you're Debbie?" I extended my hand. She shook it, her dainty hand tiny inside my big masculine one. "Yes. Don't worry. Charlie never remembers to introduce me." "Pleased to meet you. I'm Geoff." It was so weird to interact with people as a man - to call myself that name. "And we don't officially know each other," said the man. "I'm John." I shook his hand too, enjoying the strength of my grip measured against his. It was interesting to be on an even setting with a man for a change. I was actually a few inches taller than him. Noticing that made me feel a certain amount of pride. "So are you doing up the old place?" asked John. "I sure am. My... sister's been doing it for a little while..." "I think I've seen her," said Debbie. "... but she had to... call me in. It's hardly women's work fixing up a house like that." "Hey!" said Debbie, good naturedly prodding me in the arm. "A woman can do anything a man can." I chuckled. "That's what they like to think; but I have it on good authority that it ain't exactly true." I flashed my eyebrows. "Sorry." Debbie's expression softened into friendly bemusement. "I'll let you off this once because we've just met but I may have to bop you one if I hear that kind of sexism next time we meet." I glanced at John. "Don't look at me mate," he said, raising his hands. "I might agree with you but I wouldn't dare say it." "John!" Debbie elbowed him in the side playfully and we all laughed. They started to break off. "You can come sit with us if you like," said John. Debbie nodded. "Nah," I said. "Don't want to get in the way of your romantic evening." "You're more than welcome," replied Debbie. I smiled. "No. Thanks. I'm just gonna eat my steak and then toddle off home; get some shut-eye. Maybe next time." "Okay." They walked on to their table and I took a swig of my beer happily. It had been great fun to chat to them - to pretend I really was a man. I'd always been shy around new people. I guessed I wasn't so much now because I was sort of wearing a mask. I didn't have anything to be shy about because nobody knew it was really me. There was a stack of magazines and newspapers at the end of the counter. I wandered down to it and rooted through. They were mostly women's magazines. I scanned the articles listed on the cover of the top one. Nothing particularly caught my eye but I took it back with me anyway, scanning the picture of the model on the front. I thumbed through it, looking for something to read but it was mostly boring stuff about shoes and home furnishings. I went on flicking until I found a series of pages with celebrity pictures. I always enjoyed reading a bit of gossip. I folded back the cover and drifted my eyes across the pages. I tried reading a couple of the passages but this one was dull as ditchwater. Instead I just looked at the pictures, settling mainly on the women. I moved my gaze up and down each figure, tracing the shiny legs and arms, the bountiful cleavage; the curves; the pretty faces. When my eyes fell on a man they flicked on immediately and I slowly realised what I was doing, the vague pleasure it was giving me to examine these women's scantily clad bodies. I fancied them! I found them attractive! Could that be true? I looked out across the restaurant, settling on one cluster of people after another. There were a few men I would normally have classified as good looking, but linguering on them now made me feel immediately uncomfortable. The women on the other hand... It felt really nice to look at them. Really nice. And I caught myself staring at their boobs for too long, furtively looking from one to another. I made myself close my eyes and look front. This was too weird. I didn't like it. "Here you go!" The barmaid put my steak and chips in front of me with another smile. I smiled back, my eyes automatically dropping to her ass as she walked away. I didn't like this; not one bit. It was well wrong. I shouldn't be fancying girls! I focused on my food, trying to put it out of my mind, tucking in. With the first taste I paused, really savouring it. It was incredible! I chewed slowly, drawing it out, loving the flavour filling my mouth. I wasn't a vegetarian as such but I tended to eat very little meat. I steered entirely clear of red meat on the whole. I didn't know why I'd ordered the steak apart from the fact it had looked like one of the bigger dishes and I was so ravenous. But this was one of the nicest things I'd ever eaten. Ever! Really first class! I chomped my way through it, grinning at the barmaid when she brought a second beer without me needing to ask. I had a sense she was coming on to me but that really didn't make me comfortable, though part of me wondered what fun playing along with a flirtation just for a while might be, even if it didn't go my way. And it couldn't go anywhere. I wasn't a lesbian, I didn't want to stay a man for the rest of my life and I couldn't take advantage of another woman like that; knowing how it felt to be led on. I shuddered at the thought of kissing a woman. But she did have sexy arms... I just concentrated on my food. After I was done with the steak - at least double the normal amount of food I would have eaten - I ordered a bowl of bread & butter pudding. I didn't know why because I'd always hated the stuff with a passion, but the description in the menu made it sound delicious. When it came out I tucked in happily, really enjoying the taste and consistency as I flicked through a long section of my magazine with girls modeling summer dresses. They were beautiful but I had a vague sense that I would have preferred them with a bit more meat on their bones. 7 There was an exit at the back of the steak house into the car park at the rear. I figured it would be a shortcut. And headed out that way, but when I got outside I heard a commotion. There was a road running along the back of the car park with an entrance at each side. The car park serviced all the shops, many of which had entrances off it. An Indian woman in her twenties or thirties was crossing the car park at a diagonal from one of the street exits wearing a raincoat and boots, a big bag over her shoulder. Walking along behind her were three youths with shaved heads, laughing and calling after her. "Hey, Packie Patel! Give us a look under that skirt!" "Packie!" "Wog!" "Leave me alone." She hurried along, not quite running but going as fast as she could. One of the skinheads pulled at her sleeve, "Come on Packie! Let's see what you got under there!" "Get off! Let me be!" She moved faster but they started whooping. The one who'd grabbed her ran in front and walked backwards, leering at her. "C'mon darling. Give us a kiss. I wanna know what it's like fuckin a Packie." "Hey!" All four of them stopped. They looked my way. It was only then that I realised it was me that had shouted. I suddenly had a very bad feeling. The woman looked visibly relieved but the faces of the thugs turned instantly hostile. The one who'd walked in front of her shouted, "Stay out've it! It's none of your business!" I considered going back inside. There were three of them and only one of me, and I'd never been in a fight in my life. But the woman looked desperate and I was the only one who could protect her. I had an urge to do so that it was difficult to resist, despite the unlikelihood that I could see them off. My only hope was to act like a man. I was big and tough-looking. If I looked threatening they might they might just leave. "It's my business if you're hassling that lady!" I called, stepping forward, making my hands into fists. "You better leave her alone!" "Or what?" snarled the skinhead. "Or else... Or else you'll have me to answer to!" The thugs exchanged looks, then they all looked back at me simultaneously and grinned. As one, they started walking my way. The leader smacked his fist into his open palm; then he did it again. And again. I took a half step back then fixed eyes on the woman once more. She had been left behind by them now, in the clear, but she was looking at me filled with anxiety. "Are you a Packie-lover then, eh?" said the leader. One of the others giggled. "You think it's alright that they're here stealing jobs off proper Brits?" For half a second I panicked, not sure what to say or do, then words just started coming out of my mouth. "I do like Indians as a matter of fact. Because I'm not a racist twat. And she has just as much right to be here as you or I. Britain's made up of immigrants - it always has been - the Romans, the French, the Norweigans; you name it. Besides," I said. "Stealing our jobs? I don't know why you're saying that. Looking like you fucking do, no one would bloody employ you." "What did you fucking say?" They came round me, forming an arc now, no more than five feet from me to them and no way out behind me besides clambering over a line of wheelie bins. I looked the leader in the eye. "I said, if you need someone to hate then hate your-fucking-selves. You're bloody Nazis." The leader's face showed a shadow of doubt and I almost thought I might have shamed him enough to back out. Then one of his friends stepped in and threw a nasty punch hard in against my cheek. The pain was extraordinary and it threw me back against the nearest wheelie bin. This wasn't going to go well. I struggled back upright, glowering at them. I tried to see the woman but she was nowhere in sight. Every remembered instinct told me to beg for mercy or cry or try and break out and run. Instead, I said, "There. You see? To top it all you're a pack of wimps." They glared back at me and all doubt drained out of the leader's face. The three of them tensed, ready for attack. I roared and charged into the leader, making fists and pummeling up into his stomach with a right and a left and then a right. He tried to push me away and then one of the others, grabbed the back of my shirt with two hands, pulling me backwards. My balance went crazy for a minute, then the third one smacked me again. Then the leader did. Then the one behind did something hard and brutal to my kidneys. I cried out in pain, almost losing my footing, but I knew if I went down I was finished. They were wearing steel toe-capped boots. If they started kicking then they might actually kill me! I punched out, hitting one of them in the stomach and another in the thigh. I got hit in the side of the head and then again in the cheek. This had been a really bad idea. I punched the leader in the chest and then in the face but he swung out with a backhand, repelling me with the impact then the other two hammered in again. The leader raised his foot and booted me against the wheelie bins. I struck them hard and lost my balance, going down. My knees hit the pavement and then my hands. This was it. It was over. And then I heard shouting and the skinheads pulled away from me. "Leave him alone! Get away from him!" It was the Indian woman. And she had half a dozen big blokes with her that she'd found inside the steakhouse. "Get out of it!" shouted one of the blokes and all three of the skinheads scarpered without a word, the men running after them, calling. The woman ran over to me, taking hold of my arm and back. "Are you alright?" She tried to help me lift my torso. I was aching all over but I didn't need to go to the hospital. "I'm fine," I said. She helped me get up. I leaned against one of the bins for support. "They could have killed you. You could have been really hurt." "It's alright." I chuckled. "I was just about to take them all down." She smiled, looking relieved. "You shouldn't have got involved." "Are you kidding me? I have to save at least one damsel in distress a day or they revoke my license." That made her giggle. I didn't know where I was getting it from. I carefully touched the bruises on my face and arm. "Besides," I said. "They hardly did anything. This is nothing." She touched my wrist. "Well... Let me buy you a drink, to say thank you; okay?" I hadn't realised how beautiful she was, but suddenly now, up close and with the same automatic appraising glance I'd given the barmaid and the other women inside the steak house, I saw that she was. She was stunning actually. I had a feeling this was a bad idea, but I did need to sit down for a while and I felt like another beer would make me feel better. And I wanted to be near this woman. I felt a compulsion to do so. "Okay, sure," I said. "Why not? I guess getting the crap beat out of me deserves one drink at least." "At least," she said, taking my arm. 8 The woman's name was Sangeeta and it turned out she was more grateful than one drink in payment. She had plied me with a second and was already plying me with a third in the pub next door to the steakhouse. The Hunter's Moon was a dark place, half of it an open sports bar, the other half made up almost exclusively of booths, each one nestled in a pool of overhead light. The music was loud enough to give the impression that every booth was free-floating in space, completely separate from the others. Sangeeta was laughing. She had a beautiful melodious laugh that I could have listened to all night. I took the moment to really observe her. She was an outstanding beauty with thick dark hair that fell most of the way down her back, and really smooth perfect skin. Her eyes were big and round and captured all the available light. She was wearing a silk top that left her arms bare. I was feeling really loose and tipsy now; really relaxed. I couldn't believe how long I'd stayed a man now and knew I should get out as soon as possible, but I couldn't quite build up the motivation, I was enjoying Sangeeta's company so much. She went on laughing, making me chuckle myself. She laid her hand on my chest as the laughing subsided. "Well I don't see why I should tell you about my love life," she said. She winked at me. "Unless you're willing to put some official interest on the table." She tickled my chest and withdrew her hand, making me blush. "Uh, well..." "Relax big boy," she said, smiling. "I know men fall apart when they get put on the spot." We'd talked for a couple of hours already, the conversation sliding from one topic to another easily and freely. She was a very funny lady and a lot of it was playful banter with just a smidgeon of sexy undertones. She was a beautician with a little tiny shop in Tower Gates shopping centre in town which I, uncomfortably, had seen and considered going in myself. Sangeeta's Beauty Bower. For myself, I'd kept things vague. She knew I was doing up my parents' house here in Chauncy and that I was from out of town; that was about it. Apart from that we'd talked in generalities mostly, a bit about the town and how it was for outsiders. She'd moved here from London only eighteen months earlier. "If you must know," she said, "I'm on the run." "Really?" "Sort of." She smirked. "Well I am now." "From who?" "My father." She shrugged. "He wants me to marry a nice Indian gentleman he had lined up for me in the capital." "And you don't want to?" "He's a complete drip." She laughed. "Really awful! I have tried to like him - met him a few times - but I really don't want him." "And they can't... set you up with someone different?" She flashed her eyebrows. "This is the tenth one. My father is beside himself. He thinks I'm going native; rejecting my culture..." She looked off thoughtfully. Before I could stop them, my eyes took a quick dip to her breasts then back up again. "And are you?" I said. She turned back to me, her chin resting on her hand then grinned through her fingers. "I'm afraid to say he's a bit behind the times. I went native about five minutes after I arrived in Britain." We both laughed. "Forget about it," she said. "I'd rather hear more about you, my big strong handsome hero." She touched my cheek. For a long second I let her keep her hand there feeling warm and relaxed, then I remembered myself and jerked back, embarrassed. "You know just about everything there is to know," I said evasively. "Surely not." "You do." She pretended to think. "Let me see... I know that you're not from here. That you like plaid. That you're a Heineken man." She leant closer, putting her hand on mine. "That you can't stand by if a woman is in trouble, even if you get in trouble yourself as a result." I felt myself flushing again but I didn't pull my hand away. She placed her other hand on my forearm. "That you have the most incredible eyes I've ever seen on a man." I looked into her face, at her eyes, her moist glistening lips. Without thinking about it, I started to lean closer and she came to meet me. Her fingers rose, tracing the contour of my chin. Her eyes closed. My eyes closed too. There was nothing else in my mind but the desire for her. Then we kissed and it was the most magical heart-stopping moment. Everything else fell under gauze. Our lips came together, my mouth watering, and it was a perfectly consuming sensation more complete and encompassing than any other kiss before it. It went on, pulsing, and then so very slowly, we came apart, her eyes glistening at mine with fire and passion. "Are you alright?" she asked, alarmed. "You look awful." I pushed back. "I have to go. I'm sorry." I got to my feet. "I shouldn't have... I'm sorry, that shouldn't have happened." "What? What's wrong?" She looked crestfallen, desperate for me to stay, but I couldn't do it. This was wrong. I wasn't a man. I was a woman. I was meant to be. I shouldn't be attracted to this person. She was a woman like me. "I'm sorry," I stammered, stepping away from the booth. "I'm really sorry. I have to go. I have an early start in the morning." "What's the matter?" she asked. "Did I say something wrong?" "No. There's nothing wrong with you," I replied. That was the problem. "I just have to go." I turned my back on her. "Will you be here tomorrow night?" she asked, but I didn't reply. I had to get out of there. This had all been so wrong. It wasn't fair on her. I couldn't lead her on like that. I shouldn't have let it get as far as it did. I pushed out into the night air, wanting nothing more than to go back inside, but I didn't let myself, I set my feet for home and started walking. I had to get back there. I had to get out of this body. And I had to get rid of that stupid ring! 9 By the time I got home I was bursting for the toilet. I'd managed to ignore the sensations all evening but now I was absolutely desperate. I slammed the front door and ran up the stairs, three at a time, but paused when I reached the bathroom door. Should I take the ring off now? I didn't like the idea of handling the as yet unseen trouser snake - that would be too creepy - but I'd drunk and eaten so much. What if the volume couldn't fit inside my female stomach and burst it at the seams? "Ah, screw it," I said and went through. How bad could it be? The toilet seat was down. With a moment's hesitation I lifted it up and then steeled myself. I'd seen cocks before. How could having my own be any different? I undid my jeans and belt, turning back the flaps. I was wearing boxers. Gritting my teeth, I reached inside, my eyes gaping open when I touched, and then grasped, the fleshy tube inside. It was semi-erect with the urine ready to go and the simultaneous sensation of the thing in my hand and also feeling my hand round it was the queerest thing that had ever happened to me. I flopped it out, unsure what to do next. It wasn't the biggest I'd seen in my life but it was above average. I couldn't believe it was mine. Gritting my teeth, I tensed the muscles down there, first one way, then another. It wasn't so different from when I urinated as a girl. What came next was. There was a sudden imminent rush in my pelvis and then in the thing itself that gave me a fright, and then it was spurting! It hit the back of the toilet, then the floor, then skimmed across the top of the bowl and on the floor at the other side. I got a hold of it and pointed it down as best I could, amazed by the feeling of it. As it started to run down, the stream trailed off so I had to readjust the angle. I tensed and it spurted forward again, going onto the vertical toilet seat, then trailed off again. "Damn it." I tensed again, ready for it this time, but it went off to the right, missing the toilet altogether. It had a mind of its own! I imagined having to do this half asleep in the middle of the night, Maybe guys pissing on the floor all the time wasn't so difficult to understand... I shaked it off as it ended in a dribble and popped it back inside my shorts, cursing when a further dribble came out. "Oh for God's sake!" I was feeling quite grumpy when I went through into the bedroom, and really drunk. I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if I should take off my soiled clothes or ignore it and let it soak in. Though surely it wouldn't matter if I changed back. The clothes would change too. I looked down at the ring on my crooked finger. How long had I been a man for now? Ten, eleven hours? I'd never imagined doing something so strange. But it was over now. The near miss at the pub had clinched it. Turning into a man was unnatural. I didn't like it. I wanted to be my old self again. I reached for the ring. I was going to get rid of it, never do this again. It wasn't right and it was far too comfortable. It was disconcerting. But then... If I was going to get rid of it, it would be a shame to change back before... I grinned to myself and undid my jeans again, shuffling out of them, reaching for my boots to pull them off. I undid the top three buttons of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My chest was bare underneath. Now I was only wearing my boxer shorts and socks. I pulled off the socks, throwing them to the floor, marveling at how big my feet were. My old feet would have fit entirely inside them. The damp stain on the front of the boxers was clearly visible. I frowned and pulled them down, kicking them clear. Now I was naked. I was a man and I was naked. There was a free-standing full length mirror between the wardrobe and dressing table. I took a long look at my broad chest, my trunk-thick torso, my powerful muscular thighs, my thick arms. I looked at the earnest man's face looking back at me and at the cock hanging in its dense nest of furry pubes. What would it have been like to bring Sangeeta back here and stand like this in front of her? What would it have been like to kiss her and climb on top of her and dip this cock inside her? And as I thought this I got a warm, dreamy sensation of soft pleasure in my nether regions and my cock sprang up, starting to fill with blood. "Bloody hell," I murmured, my hand dropping to it automatically and gripping it loosely. It responded to the touch, swelling a little further. I looked back at the bed, chewing my lip then closed my eyes when I got another little wave of pleasure as my fingers fondled the end of it. What would it matter? No one would know. And it was the chance of a lifetime. What woman got the opportunity to experience this from a man's perspective? I had to be the only one in the world. I released the snake and sat on the bed again, considered it for a moment then scrunched back, using my hands to shuffle back until I was fully on. I lowered my head onto the pillow catching a pleasantly feminine aroma that turned me on even more. I took my cock in my hand, gripping it firmly, and started to pump it slowly, moaning quietly. I closed my eyes and pictured my ex boyfriend. He'd been annoying but he was gorgeous. I imagined him stripping slowly naked, fondling my cock as I did so, but the pleasure was dying. I actually felt uncomfortable and disturbed. I thought about the flash of stimulation I'd had at the mirror and the flood of pleasure when I'd kissed Sangeeta. Could it be that now I was a man...? But even that casual thought brought the arousal back in full force and I swooned, my entire body relaxing into it. I crept down to my scrotum with my other hand, teasing it with my fingers. It felt bizarre and oddly disgusting but it amped up the pleasure and I went on doing it; went on pumping, feeling the erotic glow spread out into my body but remain concentrated down there all the same. I pictured Sangeeta's beautiful face, her round arms, the dip of her breasts, the sound of her laugh, the tantalizing glimpse I'd had of her shiny knees. "Oooooh God," I groaned. "Oh fucking hell. Yeeeaah." The pleasure intensified. I didn't know when it was going to end. It was so good. But I wanted more. I visualized myself into the picture with Sangeeta, not as a woman, but as a man, as Geoff. I took her arms in my hands and locked my lips to hers. I pressed her soft body against mine, imagining the compression of my dick between our stomachs. The arousal was getting more and more intense. I didn't know if I could take it. It was different than I'd ever had before. I didn't want it to stop. I wanted to go on feeling this every day for the rest of my life. I wanted to be Geoff. I wanted to be with Sangeeta for real. I wanted to be a man. And then the explosion came and the spurt of semen shot out, but I didn't stop. I bucked my hips, going on pumping; pumping; pumping. I slowed, tightening my grip then pressed in on the thick vein below my penis, spiking the drowsy pleasure yet again. I slowed further, writhing with my legs, loving the sense of completeness and calm that settled over me. I kept my eyes closed. I imagined cradling Sangeeta against me, stroking her hair, feeling so much bigger than her; looking after her. My hands fell out onto the covers and I just breathed the pleasure in and out, enjoying it more than I ever could have as a woman. This was the best. It was the absolute best. And as I settled back, relaxing more and more into the bed, I drifted slowly into a deep a satisfied sleep. Please leave a review! For more of my stories, check out: http://transformation- stories.blogspot.co.uk/ And read my transformation novels on Amazon or Kobo by searching for Emma Finn