World Of Difference free porn video

_______________________________________________________________________ This work of fiction is copyrighted by the author. Permission is hereby granted to repost it to any site that does not charge a fee for access provided the title, text, and author's name are not altered in any fashion. The names and descriptions of all persons, firms, and events herein depicted are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, firms, or events is entirely unintentional and coincidental. Cross my heart. _______________________________________________________________________ Watsit Tuya's World of Difference _______________________________________________________________________ Al Freitag awoke lying on a leather sofa, loosely wrapped in a blanket. His groan as he sat up drew the attention of the other person in the room. "Take it easy, you've had quite a jolt." The voice was a deep baritone that reminded him of his late father's. Having attained an upright position, he looked at the speaker; a tall, square jawed, athletic type who appeared to be around Al's age, with a seriously short haircut. "Thanks for the warning." He shook his head to clear it. "Where are my clothes?" His host gestured toward the rear of the house. "I wrung 'em out and put 'em in the dryer about two minutes ago. You might need to run an iron over 'em." Al made a dismissive wave. "Nah, they're work clothes; wrinkles won't make any difference." He put out his hand. "Al Freitag." His rescuer smiled, and shook the proffered hand. "Jac Selkirk, adequately selling novelist, at your service." Al chuckled at the self-deprecating description. "Adequately selling?" Standing up, Jac stretched. "Yeah, it pays well enough that I don't actually have to work for a living." Wrapping himself in the blanket, Al went to the picture window. The view was partially obscured by the driving rain, but he could make out a stand of trees close by, the nearest of which was on fire. He turned to his host. "Can I use your phone? I need to call and let my boss know I'm stranded." The reply was not encouraging. "The storm's knocked out everything but, if we're lucky, we might get power back by tonight. The good news is that I have a generator with enough fuel for three days, and plenty of food." Morosely, Al returned to the couch, where the contents of his pockets were laid out on the coffee table. He started to check his wallet, then realized it might be construed as distrust of this good Samaritan, so he put it back. "How'd I get here?" He paused to sort out his recollections "My car broke down about two miles along County Road Twelve, so I was trying to get to the garage at the turnoff from Highway Seven when the storm broke. Lightning was striking really close, and I couldn't see any houses near, so I was making for a shed when a tree just a couple of yards away got hit, and I blacked out. Is that where you ...?" He could read the unease in his rescuer's expression. "Let's talk about that over breakfast." Choosing not to press the issue, Al asked how much longer it would be until his garments were dry. Informed it would be at least forty minutes, he wandered over to a corner that had been set up as a reading nook, with a recliner flanked by an end table and floor lamp, while his benefactor went to make breakfast. Dipping into the rack next to the chair, he extracted a news magazine whose cover depicted a meeting between President Sharon Kendall of the United States, King Margaret of Great Britain, and Tsar Helen of Russia, all of whom were wearing three- piece suits and had expertly styled crewcuts. Unbelieving, Al sank onto the recliner and thumbed through the periodical. In the 'Sports' section was a story about a star college football quarterback named Yvonne Tolbert, and an article profiling men's figure skating gold medalist Oliver Bui, whose physique looked more like a centerfold's than a skater's. "Is this some kinda joke?" He did not quite believe it was, but could come up with no other rational explanation. As he wrestled with the conundrum, he was called to breakfast. Clutching the magazine, he shambled into the kitchen and laid it on the table. "W-where am I?" Jac invited him to sit, then put a full plate and mug of coffee in front of him. "First, let me properly introduce myself. My name is Jacqueline Selkirk, and where you are is what my science fiction colleagues would call an alternate reality." Numb with shock, Al struggled to make sense of this. "N-no, th-that can't be. I-i-it's just a ..." She patted his hand. "Afraid not." Nudging his plate closer, she continued. "I was standing at the front window, watching the storm, when the tree that's still burning got hit by lightning. It took a second for my vision to clear and, when it did, I saw somebody lying on my front lawn who hadn't been there before." She grinned at him. "Three guesses who, and the first two don't count." Al pointed to himself, and she nodded. "Your clothes were soaked through so, being the thoughtful sort, I peeled 'em off and saw right away that you're not from around these parts because of your anatomy, so I peeked into your wallet." Her expression grew serious. "You're kind of like a living dinosaur, because there hasn't been a man like you in this world for over a century." She could see apprehension in his eyes. "Don't worry, Alexander Freitag, I have no intention of revealing your presence." With a relieved sigh, Al leaned back, then got a quizzical look. "What did it mean when you said you could tell by my anatomy ...?" Jac finished her coffee. "We call it the Re-forming, because that's what it did to everybody. Women now look the way men used to, and vice versa, except we don't have anything like a scrotum because our ovaries are still internal." She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Now eat up, and I'll tell you what I remember from history class." Getting to her feet, she poured herself a fresh cup. "Nobody knows when it actually started, but they date it from the twelfth of March in nineteen-oh-seven." Unsure he wanted to know the answer, Al asked anyway. "Why then?" Jac spread her hands. "It was the day the last children of female mothers were born." A bewildered expression appeared on his face. "Last children of female ...? A-are you saying ... MEN have the babies here?" The desperate tone of that question nearly broke her heart. "Yes, because the roles of males and females have been COMPLETELY reversed." She took a moment to let him digest that, then continued. "It did other things, too, like eliminating all hereditary disorders, boosting our immune systems so that at least ninety percent survive even the worst diseases, and ... I guess the best way to put it is that it standardized us. Men are between five-four and five-eight with full, round breasts, and waists fourteen inches smaller than their busts and hips, while women's heights range from six feet to six-four, but all our external sex organs are exactly the same size." She half expected him to run back out into the storm, screaming. When he did not, but just sat staring at the wall, she inched his plate closer, and he reacted by shoveling food into his mouth. "It's good to see you still have an appetite." She rose from the table. "I'll be in the living room. Join me when you're done." ******************* He emerged from the kitchen looking almost calm, and she handed him a book. "This is the best one about the Re-forming that I have." Nodding, he settled onto the sofa and began scanning the text. He had almost made it through the second chapter by the time she brought his clothes. "Oh, good timing." He kept the blanket around himself until he put on his underwear, then threw it off to don shirt and jeans. Scooping up wallet and keys, he stuffed them into the pants, and was about to tuck the cell phone into his shirt pocket when Jac put out her hand. "May I see it?" Curious, he gave it to her. She unfolded it, studied the keypad and video display, and handed it back. "It's a phone, isn't it?" The question surprised Al. "Yeah, but it's pretty basic. All I can do with it is make and receive calls ... when I remember to charge it." He wondered about her unfamiliarity with it. "What year is this?" She looked puzzled. "Twenty thirteen. Why?" He shrugged. "Well, it's apparent you've never seen one of these and, where I come from, it's pretty hard to find somebody who doesn't have one, so ..." A thought came to him. "That book says all the world's armed forces fell apart when the Re- Forming happened." Jac nodded. "Yes, like in all the jobs men were doing back then." She pulled up an armchair. "In 1907, any work that couldn't be done in a suit and tie was physically demanding so, as men became smaller and weaker and women grew larger and stronger, the men trained women to do their jobs, and the women taught men their duties. It took a good while, and everybody's economy suffered, but things eventually got back to normal. Well, the armed services also require specialized training and a ... toughness of mind that men almost completely lost, so it was more than a decade before any country even partially rebuilt their military." With that, the last piece fell into place for Al. "That would've prevented the two world wars, and most of the smaller ones, we had." She tugged her earlobe. "Yeah, I suppose it'd be pretty hard to have a war with no army or navy to fight it." He touched his nose and pointed to her. "And wars help spur innovation, so technology wouldn't have come as far here." He walked over to a small book-lined room and peered in. "Is this your office?" She joined him. "Only when I'm paying bills. Otherwise, it's my writing chamber." The room featured a large, sturdy desk upon which sat an almost equally sturdy electric typewriter. He stepped in, and looked around to confirm his supposition. "No computer." She snorted at the seeming absurdity. "Where would I have room for one?" Al tried to give her a glimpse of his world. "The kind I'm thinking of would take up about as much space as that typewriter, and hold more information than a ... boatload of any computers you have here. There'd be programs on it you could use to write a book, and a printer could be attached to it that'd put out about ten pages a minute by spraying ink onto the paper." With a short laugh, Jac gripped the jamb and raised her left leg. "Now pull this one." He made a wry expression. "Well, it might sound ridiculous to you, but I have... well, had one." She returned to the couch and he followed, mulling over his predicament. "If men have babies here, I'm gonna have a hard time passing myself off as one." She turned and studied him. "You couldn't pass for a woman, either, since you're only five-ten AND have a beard." Al rubbed his cheek. "Well, I skipped shaving this morning, but it's not really all that noticeable." Jac beckoned him to join her. "Yes it is, because it's the only one in the entire world." As that sank in, he dropped onto the couch. "Oh." His crestfallen look evoked her sympathy, so she offered what hope she could. "Look, no guarantees, but there may be a chance you'll get Re-Formed." He had understandable doubts. "That was more than a hundred years ago." Jac shrugged. "Yes, but it might still be at work." Now he was intrigued. "How?" She leaned closer. "At first, nobody had a clue about how it could affect every person in the world at the same time. People way up in the Himalayas, coal miners, and everyone in between were all Re-Formed; no one was immune, and it progressed at the same pace everywhere. Everybody was scratching their noggins until someone suggested that what-or-whoever caused it might've somehow changed something in the environment, like the air or water. Now, no one's ever determined whether or not it did but, if it had, it could explain how everyone was affected." Certain he would never return home, Al found himself almost hoping that the forces behind it were still active. "If it happens, how long would it take?" She pondered that a moment. "Well, in 1907 it took about six months, but that was with people from this universe." With that, Jac went to her writing chamber, and he resumed the book. Being a speed reader when necessary, he got through it in about twenty minutes, then went into the kitchen and grimaced at the dishes soaking in the sink. He was putting the last of them away when she drifted in to draw a pitcher of water and fill an ice bucket. "You didn't have to do that." Shrugging, he dried his hands and hung the dish towel on its bar. "Well, I hate being idle, and you were busy ... Y'know, regardless of whether or not I get Re-Formed, you're liable to be stuck with me for a while and, since it appears you're one of those who lets chores slide until you have no choice but to do 'em, I'd like to offer my services as housekeeper." Leaning against the counter, she folded her arms over her broad, flat chest. "Yeah, it's true; I'd rather do just about anything besides housework. What are your qualifications for the position, Miss Freitag?" Al nearly guffawed at her calling him 'Miss', but managed to put on a serious face. "I used to help Mom with all her chores, including cooking, and mostly took them over from her when she went to work after Dad died." She had made up her mind, but drummed her fingers as though pondering the proposal. "Okay. You can stay in the guest cottage." She looked out the window. "Storm's passed, but the power's not on yet." Putting the pitcher and bucket on a tray, she paused before returning to her writing. "Stay in the house tonight, and I'll show you the cottage in the morning. Meanwhile, get to know the lay of the land." He spent the rest of the morning exploring, starting upstairs. The door to the right at the top of the stairs opened on a bedroom that he surmised was Jac's due to the book laden shelves, king size bed, big console television, and private bath. Continuing down the hallway, he discovered two more bedchambers that shared a connecting bathroom, while the room at the opposite end from Jac's was another suite like the owner's. All the furniture in the other rooms was covered by sheets, leading him to conclude she lived alone, which he found a little sad. In the kitchen he examined the pantry and refrigerator, which were both well stocked. It took him a second to notice that all the containers had price tags instead of bar codes, a reminder of the less advanced technology here. Being single, he was familiar with the cost of groceries in his home reality, so it was a bit of a shock when he looked at the tags. "That's probably what my grandparents paid when they were my age." There was an enclosed porch behind the kitchen that held the washer and dryer, along with a nearly full freezer chest; a necessity, since the refrigerator's freezer compartment had barely enough room for a pair of ice trays. Returning upstairs, he made up the bed in the room at the left end of the landing, turned on the portable TV perched on the nightstand, stretched out, and groaned when the show's opening credits appeared. "With a title like 'As We Live', it MUST be a soap opera." He had always worked days, and never been interested in daytime dramas but, since he had no idea what else was on, he watched, and was hooked before the first commercial. ******************* The morning of his third day as Jac's housekeeper, Al noticed his chest felt tender and seemed to be slightly swollen. His first thought was that he was allergic to something, but he dismissed that since he had already been exposed to everything here for days. When getting dressed for work, he found the wool shirt irritated his bare chest, so he put on an undershirt and walked to the main house to commence his duties. He was about to call Jac to breakfast when she plopped down at the table. "Good morning, Miss Freitag." Al set a plate of eggs, sausage, and hash browns in front of his employer, with toast and jam on the side, and poured a cup of coffee for her. "Good morning to you, Mr Selkirk." When Jac got her first close-up look at him, she did a double take. "What happened to the fur on your face?" He stroked his cheek. "I took your great-great-grandfather's straight razor out for a spin last night." She had him turn his head left and right. "Quite an improvement, and it seems you did it without major blood loss. Good job." He began scouring the griddle. "You asked me to let you know about any changes to myself." He looked over his shoulder and saw she was listening. "Well, my chest felt tender this morning, and I think there's some swelling." She swallowed a mouthful of eggs and sausage, chasing it with the last of her coffee. "That could mean it's started, but let's wait and see." Muttering softly, Al returned to his scouring. "Yeah, let's wait and see." She brought her dishes to the sink, sprinkled dishwashing soap into the basin, and turned on the hot water. "I'd like you to do something, if it's not too much trouble." Done cleaning the griddle, he tossed the paper towel into the trash. "Shoot." Taking a bottle from the refrigerator, she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "I'd like you to record your thoughts and feelings as you change ... if you do. You can use one of my tape recorders, so you don't get writer's cramp." He shut off the faucet. "Why?" Jac gave him her best disarming smile. "Fair question." She motioned him to follow her to the office, where she pulled an old leatherbound volume from a bookcase. "Like a lot of people back then, one of my ancestors ... the owner of that razor, in fact ... kept a journal, and this volume covers the time of the Re-Forming." She swept a hand over all the books in that case. "As you might expect, there's been a lot written about the economic and social impact, along with alleged autobiographies of prominent people, but nothing that tells the story from an ordinary person's perspective. I've been trying to write a novel along those lines for more than two years, but can't even imagine what it was like." She leaned against the edge of the desk. "I have other journals, and some of the writers try to describe their feelings, but I can't ..." She gestured toward her ear. "... hear the emotions." She took his hand. "I'd like you to speak for the characters in the story." He was grateful to her, so the decision was easy. "Be glad to." Grinning, she squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks, it'll be a big help." She looked at the clock. "Well, off to the salt mines." He chortled at the expression. "I'm curious; how long does it take to write a book?" Jac went behind the desk. "For me, usually a week or two past the publisher's deadline, which is pretty much the norm in this game." With a cheery wave, she turned on the typewriter. Taking the hint, Al closed the door as he left the room and got to work. ******************* Three months after his arrival, Al returned to the cottage at the end of his working day and went into the kitchenette to make a snack, then turned on the television and settled onto the couch, smoothing his dress under him. At that point he had been wearing skirts for almost a week, because he found wearing anything with legs reaching further than about a third of the way down his thigh very uncomfortable; not physically, but still quite unenjoyable. When he told Jac about this, she bought him a few dresses but, being barely halfway through the process, he could only manage to squeeze into sleeveless maternity smocks. He had no doubt his aversion to trousers was caused by the Re-Forming, but had found no reference to it in the various texts he had immersed himself in since his arrival. Of those, he was most interested in the histories, and was not entirely surprised at how closely this reality's matched what he remembered from 'back home'. In fact, the only major difference he found was the Re-forming, and events subsequent to it. After the late news, he went into the bathroom and stripped to take his measurements; a weekly project he had begun when he noticed the first changes. Once it was done, he looked over the chart. "Well, my hair and boobs're growing like weeds, but everything else is still shrinking." Before being thrust into this world, Al had been five-ten and one- ninety-five, with hair that was barely collar length. Now he was five- eight and one-sixty, and his hair reached just past the middle of his back. With the loss of two inches of height and thirty-five pounds, his entire body was noticeably smaller, and starting to take on an hourglass shape. So far, being Re-Formed had been an emotional rollercoaster. He recognized that it had to happen, but was still a man of his old world at heart, and did not exactly welcome the changes. This was especially true where it pertained to 'Little Al', his companion for all his twenty-three years. Right then, his old friend was looking lonely and dejected; lonely, since his two buddies had withdrawn a week earlier, and dejected at having lost about two-thirds of his volume, along with the ability to stand on his own. Elevating his gaze, Al regarded the pert mounds on his chest. From having enjoyed initimate relations with several women in his former life, he was familiar enough with breasts to estimate that his were currently B cups. "Okay, I'm about halfway along so, if I'm a B now, then I'll probably be at least a D when it's all said and done." Lightly stroking them, he allowed himself to get lost in the frankly pleasurable sensations. After a few minutes, he turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. Once he was thoroughly clean and dry, he threw on a robe and sat at the vanity to comb and brush his hair and practice applying the cosmetics Jac had bought him two days before. Luckily the Re-Forming had gifted everyone with even, clear complexions, so the only makeup anyone in this world used was lipstick, mascara, eye liner, eye shadow, and blush. As he worked on his face, Al gave thanks for not having to use the straight razor a second time, and that the rest of his body hair had fallen out on its own. When he was finished, he studied the result. "If Mom had a sister, this is probably what she'd have looked like." Growing up, people had always remarked how much Al favored his mother for, even though he had his father's jade green eyes and straight nose, he got the rest of his countenance from her. Further emphasizing the resemblance, the Re-Forming had made his features smaller, and more delicate in appearance. "I miss her ... s-so m-much." He threw himself onto the bed and bawled prodigiously, then returned to the vanity to survey the damage. "Well, I was gonna wipe it off anyway but, geeze, what a mess." After removing the smeared makeup, Al doffed the robe and crawled into bed. Lying on his back, he whispered toward the ceiling. "I know I haven't talked to You for a few years ... mostly because of what happened to Dad." He blinked away tears. "Mom is still in my old world, and she's probably waiting to find out what's happened to her only child, but nobody there's gonna be able to tell her." The trickle of tears was becoming a flood. "Please, just ... do something to ease her mind, OK?" Softly sobbing, and emotionally spent, he turned onto his side. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was standing in his old bedroom, looking just as it had when he graduated high school. Moving to the wall, he ran his hands over the fantasy posters, and scanned the shelves Dad had built for his model cars and airplanes. He was reaching for the '68 Camaro when a beloved voice spoke behind him. "Alexander Kreutznaer Freitag, where have you been?" He spun around. "Mom!" She hugged her refound son as tightly as she could manage. "Oh Alex, I've been going out of my mind. Your car was abandoned, and they never found any trace ... Where did you go?" He had been raining kisses on her cheek, but broke it off to search for an explanation she might understand, then it came to him. "Do you remember the episode of 'Star Trek' where Spock had a beard?" Gently grasping his shoulders, she stepped back and smiled. "Do I remember? That was one of my ... W-wait, a-are you saying you're in a ...?" He took her hands. "Yeah but, since I didn't get here by transporter, it's most likely a one way trip." Her smile faltered. "So ... I-I'll never see you again?" He pulled her into a fierce embrace. "Remember what the minister said at Dad's funeral? How he wasn't really gone, he just wasn't here? That as long as he's in our thoughts and hearts, we're never truly separated? Well, no matter where I am, or what happens, you're gonna be in my thoughts and heart 'til the day I die ... maybe even after." She clung to him. "Just tell me you're alright, son. I can take being apart if I know you're okay." He broke the clinch and kissed her forehead. "I'm as alright as I've ever been, Mom." She grew a lopsided smile which, he knew, usually preceded a wisecrack. "Well, I was hoping for SOME improvement, but I guess that'll have to do." He chuckled at her jest ... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ... and awakened feeling reassured. Looking at his bedside clock, he saw it was almost time to prepare for work. Smiling, he looked up before getting out of bed. "Thank You." ******************* Jac watched as he laid out her breakfast. "There's something different about you this morning. You seem ... serene." Al tilted his head to the side. "I visited my mother last night." She had been taking a sip of coffee, and sputtered at the assertion. "Aand how did this come about?" After a brief hesitation, he pulled out a chair and sat facing her. "I talked to her in a dream, only ... I don't believe it was JUST a dream. I think we were ... sharing it somehow." She gestured with her fork. "Well, the Re-Forming drastically changed our notions of what is and isn't possible, so it's not hard for me to believe that you conversed with your mother. I take it the discussion contributed to your buoyant spirits?" He got up and went to the stove to clean the griddle. "Yeah. Oh, I still miss her like everything, but I'm certain our talk helped us ... come to terms with the situation." Jac cleared the table and brought everything to the sink. "Then I'm happy for both of you." Grinning and scrunching his nose, Al briefly laid his head on her brawny shoulder. "Aww, you're the best." He fished out a tape from the pocket of his smock. "Hot off the recorder." She put the reel in the pocket of her jeans, and kissed his increasingly dainty hand. "Thank ye kindly, ma'am." Pouring the remaining coffee into a carafe, she snagged a clean cup and headed to work. "I am ..." Turning around, she held her thumb and forefinger about an eighth of an inch apart. "... this close to finishing the current potboiler, so I'll start on THIS one ..." She tapped the pocket holding the tape. "... as soon as I send ..." She stabbed a finger toward the writing room. "... THAT one to the publisher." Al shook his head and chuckled, then started in on his Thursday chores. He made sandwiches for himself and Jac shortly before noon, then took his and a bottle of soda upstairs to watch the latest installment of 'As We Live' on the set in Jac's room. While immersed in the intrigues surrounding Grace Defoe and her wife Steven, Al reflected on Jac's reaction to the revelation of his dream, wondering if she was merely humoring him. "Doesn't matter; I believe it, and that's good enough for me." ******************* Al was beginning to prepare dinner when Jac emerged triumphant. "Done, and less than three weeks past the deadline!" He gently punched her shoulder. "Way to go, champ." She patted his cheek. "This means we can start on the Re-Forming book ...." Al threw up his hands. "Who's this 'we'? I'm a housekeeper, not a writer." Jac shook her head. "I don't need help with the writing. Heck, my first novel was published when I was only eighteen, and in the decade since I've done twenty more, plus a couple of short story collections." She settled into a chair. "What I need is someone to critique the story, and tell me if I'm doing it justice; someone with first hand knowledge of what the characters are experiencing." Al pursed his lips and tapped them with an index finger. "So I'd be like ... a consultant?" Rising, she lightly clapped her hands together, then spread them. "Exactly." Smiling, he nodded. "I'll do it." Jac took his hand, bowed slightly, and raised it to her lips. "Many thanks, good lady." Blushing, Al returned to preparing the meal. "Oh, no need for all the gallantry, Ja-uh-sir. I'm glad to help." Teasingly, she sidled up to him. "Why'd you start to call me by name, then switch to 'sir'?" He turned away. "I-it was a slip of the tongue." She patted his shoulder. "Honestly, it doesn't matter what you call me." Grinning, Al recalled one of his father's well-worn jests. "I can call you anything, except late to dinner?" Throwing her head back, she roared a laugh. "Oh, you are a treasure." He poked her side. "Darn right, and don't you forget it. Now shoo, I got vittles to fix." As she was leaving the kitchen, Jac paused in the doorway. "Have dinner with me? It's been too long since we've really talked with each other." With a wistful smile, Al nodded. "I'd like that." Thrusting a thumb upward, she went to her bedroom to shower and change. Pausing in front of the dresser, she spoke to her reflection as she disrobed. "Don't read too much into what he just said. After all, he's been marooned here, with only you to talk to, for three months, so it's understandable that he'd grow fond of you, but it doesn't mean he feels the same way about you as you're starting to about him." Now naked, she posed and flexed before the mirror, then smiled at her image. "I don't see how he could resist someone this good lookin', though." Smiling, she plucked a robe from the coat hook and sauntered to the shower. ******************* It was past eleven when Al returned to the cottage. The dinner with Jac had turned into a free ranging conversation in which they learned more about each other in a few short hours than in all the weeks since he had materialized on her lawn. Going straight to the bedroom, he sat on the end of the bed. "Wow, she is ... somethin' else." He looked into the dresser's mirror. "Okay, so she doesn't look like what I used to think of as the ideal woman. That doesn't change the fact that I'm ... falling for her." Flopping back onto the mattress, he heaved a deep sigh. "I suppose it's possible she feels the same way about me." Getting off the bed, he removed his dress and scrutinized his reflection. "Lookin' like this? I doubt it." Wearily, he removed the maternity panties and threw them into the laundry basket. "Well, maybe when I'm finished." Recalling what Jac had told him the first day regarding the standard male figure in this world, with full, round (probably D cup) breasts, and a waist fourteen inches smaller than the bust and hips, he shook his head in wonderment. "A lot of women I used to know would've killed for a figure like that but, here, it's the way every MAN is built." He leaned in and studied his face. "Well, if it's workin' on me like it did a hundred years ago, I am gonna be one smokin' hot babe." Blowing a kiss to his image, he went to soak in a bubble bath. ******************* Five days before the six months Jac had said the Re-Forming would take, Al was roused by the steady ringing of the cottage's doorbell. Crawling groggily out of bed, he threw on a robe and grumbled to the door then, seeing it was Jac, yanked it open. "What are you doin' here? It's Saturday, for Pete's sake." She stepped inside. "I'm driving you to the beauty shop, remember?" Miffed at the interruption of his slumber, Al crossed his arms under his bosom and tapped his slippered foot on the wooden floor. "You dragged me out of bed before eight in the morning for a ten o'clock appointment?" Jac was in the kitchenette, making cocoa. "I thought we'd go out for breakfast first." She handed him a cup. "It's time for you to see, and be seen by, the world." When he made the appointment, at Jac's urging, Al had assumed his exposure would be limited to the salon's employees. Nervously, he patted the bun atop his head. "It's still nearly a week until ..." She laid her index finger over his lips. "Oh, hush. You've been wearing regular men's clothes for nearly two weeks, and for the last four or five days they've been fitting more or less like a glove, so you're obviously far enough along that nobody will be able to tell you're not finished, so ..." She gently pushed him toward the bedroom. "... get a move on." Knowing she could give stubborn lessons to a mule, he complied rather than argue. After a quick shower, he chose a sleeveless forest green fitted sheath and matching suede pumps with three inch heels, liking the way the dress molded to his 34-20-34 figure, and the shape and definition the shoes gave his calves. As a bonus, the footwear also increased his height from five-six to five-nine, making him feel a little less like a Munchkin alongside Jac's six-two. He didn't bother with makeup beyond a light application of cherry red lipstick, since the plan was for him to get the full treatment. Releasing his nearly hip length chestnut tresses from the bun, he threw up his hands. "Cripes, I look like a demented witch, minus the snaggle teeth." Following that brief moment of despair, he brushed his hair and tied it into a ponytail with a green satin ribbon. Taking a light gray coat from the closet, for the mid-November chill, he put what he needed into a black patent leather shoulder bag and rejoined her. "Better?" Smiling, she rose from the sofa and turned off the television. "Much." Gallantly, she opened the front door and bowed as he passed. "Madame." He replied with an impish grin. "I regret to say M'sieur is incorrect. Since I am not yet wed, ze proper address pour moi eez 'Mademoiselle'." Jac chuckled approvingly. "Good one." Al glanced at his watch as she opened the car's passenger door. "Eight thirty-five. Is the breakfast place very far?" She helped him into the auto, then went around and took the wheel. "Maybe fifteen minutes, if the lights are with us. It's right up the street from the beauty shop, but we're also going to meet someone who'll help make you official, and she needs information only you can provide. After that, I'll drop you off." Al's eyes narrowed. "Is what she's gonna do legal?" Jac made a seesawing motion with her hand. "A detective I know introduced me to her when I was doing research for a novel. She's an expert at creating identities, and works with the cops to hide witnesses who've helped put gangsters in jail." He settled back into his seat. "So why is she doing it for us?" Jac smiled crookedly. "Because she's not quite as good at poker as she thinks." She gently brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. "If you're worried about what'll happen if something goes wrong ... Say the word, and I'll go back home and try to come up with another plan." He weighed the options and, with a nervous smile, patted her knee. "No risk, no reward. Let's meet her." ******************* Pancake Palace was in the midst of the Saturday morning breakfast rush when they arrived. This being his first foray beyond the bounds of Jac's acreage, Al fought to keep from staring at everyone in the place, and mostly succeeded. Looking over the crowd, he was struck by the attractiveness of everyone, which was due to the Re-Forming not only eliminating all hereditary disorders, but also shaping every feature of the body to esthetically pleasing proportions. Of course he was aware of it, from his reading and having watched a lot of television during his confinement. However, this was his first time seeing it live, and he found it mildly disturbing. Jac tapped his shoulder. "Are you okay? You look a little ..." He turned to her. "Overwhelmed?" He indicated the throng in the diner with a sideways nod. "For the past six months, the only other person I've seen in the flesh is you, and now ... Sure are a lot of 'em, huh?" She moved a little closer, and lowered her voice. "That's not all that's bugging you, though, is it?" Al thought a moment. "It's ... Everybody looks almost too good, like people in luxury car commercials. Nobody has a wart on their nose, or ears three sizes too big, and I'll bet if you put any of 'em on a scale they wouldn't be more than five pounds overweight." He looked around as the hostess called another group to be seated, then continued in a whisper. "Where I lived before, average folks aren't half as good looking as the least attractive person in this crowd." The waitress called 'Selkirk', and they were shown to a booth near the door. After they placed their orders, Jac checked her watch. "Nine-fifteen. Good thing the beauty shop's near." Their food was ready fourteen minutes later, which coincided with the arrival of a woman with an amazingly dark complexion, wearing a suit that was probably worth more than all the furniture in Al's former apartment. Spying Jac, she smiled broadly. "Hey, Mi'sippi Slim!" Al almost choked on his coffee. "Mi'sippi Slim?" Jac explained as she rose to greet the newcomer. "She's been callin' me that ever since I got her to fold three sevens against a pair of jacks." Shaking her friend's hand, she turned to Al. "Miss Alexander Freitag, it's my pleasure to introduce Mr Evelyn Crusoe." Al rose and extended his hand, palm downward, with a small curtsy. "I'm honored, Mr Crusoe." Evelyn bowed over the hand. "It is I who am honored, Miss Freitag." The three of them took seats, and Evelyn immediately got down to business. "You just want something good enough for him to get a driver's license, correct?" Two heads bobbed in affirmation. "No problem." She reached into the inside breast pocket of her jacket and retrieved a small notepad and pen. "Your full name?" Al leaned in, and spoke low. "Alexander Kreutznaer Freitag." Evelyn smiled apologetically. "You'll have to spell those last two for me." She then asked for the full names of both his parents, and his date and place of birth, then tucked the gear away. "You'll have it a week from Monday." Rising, she bowed to each of them. "Miss Freitag; Slim." Al watched her exit the restaurant. "Mr Crusoe don't waste time, do she?" Jac checked her watch again. "Nine-thirty-six." It took Al a moment to remember the other reason for this excursion. "Oh yeah, the beauty shop. Where is it, by the way?"" She gestured in the direction of the back wall. "End of the block, right across from the supermarket. I'm going to do some research while they're makin' you gorgeous." She fished out a card from her shirt pocket. "This is the pay phone in the library. Call when you're ready." ******************* The call came at twelve-thirty-two, and Jac was at the salon eleven minutes later. "Hi, I'm here for Miss Freitag." The receptionist checked the book. "You're Mr Selkirk?" Jac was reaching for her wallet. "That's me. How much?" The bill was handed over for her perusal. "Shampoo and style, hot oil treatment, manicure, pedicure, facial, makeup ... Wait, they didn't rotate the tires!" Her attempt at humor was met with a roll of cobalt blue eyes. "Gee, that sounded wittier in my head." She forked over the funds, then set off to find her charge. The salon had a lounge in the back where customers could await the arrival of husbands or girlfriends, and that was where she found Al in conversation with a redhead she recognized as Keith Robinson, wife of her accountant and owner of the shop. "Ladies." Rising, Keith gave her a hug. "Jac, you beast. In what dungeon have you been holding this young man? Why, the poor dear's hair was an absolute disaster, and his nails ..." Jac assumed a shocked expression. "Beast? Moi? Nay, fair lady, I gave him refuge from the storm, and am in no way responsible for the devastation of which you speak." Keith golf clapped. "Oh, that was good. Have you ever thought of becoming a writer?" Jac barely registered his words as she gazed at Al. "How do you do, Miss. Have we met?" He turned to show off his new look. "You like?" His hair was now a handspan less than waist length, but much more sleek and lustrous than a few hours earlier, while the light coat of cherry lipstick had given way to a darker shade that worked perfectly with his light tan. In addition, his eyes were made up so that he could have gone straight to a formal event, yet were not so dramatic that he would have seemed out of place in a more mundane setting. Jac turned to Keith, and bowed deeply. "Brava, Madame Robinson, you are truly an artiste." Smiling, Keith executed a deep curtsy. "Many thanks, kind sir, but your compliment is misplaced; the artiste is my daughter." He spoke into an intercom. "Daniel, please come to the lounge." A virtual clone of Keith responded. "Yes, Mother?" Jac extended her hand. "I've been informed you're the one who attended to my friend, Miss Freitag." She took Daniel's hand by the tips of his fingers and touched the knuckles to her lips, causing the young lady to giggle softly, then reached into her pocket and produced a five dollar bill. "Please accept this token of my thanks." Daniel dipped a small curtsy. "It was my pleasure, sir." He turned to Al. "I'd be honored if you would allow me to serve you again, Miss Freitag." Al hugged him. "Every time, hon." On their way out of the shop, Al prevailed on Jac to purchase a supply of the cosmetics he was now wearing. As they tooled toward home, she griped jokingly. "Y'know, what with feeding and boarding you, buying your clothes, and this overhaul ... If I'd known how much you were gonna cost, I might've just let the rain wash you away." He swatted at her shoulder. "Oh c'mon, you know you like having me around." With a soft chuckle, Jac rubbed her chin. "True, true." A train impeded their progress, so she turned to him. "Your presence HAS made my life more interesting." Smiling, Al turned to watch the passing scenery. They were nearly home when she lightly touched his shoulder. "You still alive?" Looking around, he nodded and smiled. "Barely." He yawned and sat up straight. "Thank you for dragging me into the sunlight." Jac grinned and shrugged. "Aww, 'tweren't nothin'." Al wagged his finger. "Au contraire, it was the act of a caring friend. Granted, you probably could have handled it better, but your heart was in the right place." When they got home, she walked him to the cottage. "We should do this again." He opened the door, took a step inside, and turned to face her. "I'd like that very much." Dropping the bag of cosmetics on his vanity, Al changed out of the dress and heels into shorts and sneakers, then made a sandwich before thoroughly cleaning the cottage and doing his personal laundry. After that was out of the way, he settled down to browse the articles in the latest issue of Good Homemaking, and also clip some recipes since Thanksgiving was near. He was musing on the fact that the holiday would mark six months since he had appeared in this world when the phone rang. Only one person knew the number, so he did not hesitate to answer. "Yes?" Jac's anxiousness was plain to hear. "You busy?" Intrigued by her tone, Al laid aside the magazine. "Not terribly. What's up?" She cleared her throat. "I just got off the phone with my mother, and he wanted to know if I'm gonna make it for Thanksgiving. I told him I'd try, but not to count on it, so then he told me that my sister and his husband are bringing their first born to meet the family, and harped on how my brother and her family are looking forward to seeing me ..." Chuckling, Al broke in. "Yeah, I know that song, only I get reminded that Great Uncle Pete isn't gettin' any younger, or how Grandpa and Grandma Kreutznaer don't see me enough." He sighed. "You goin'?" She hesitated before answering. "Only if you do." Now he hesitated. "Seriously? You want ME to ...? Why?" Jac's reply was direct. "Because I can't stand to think of you being alone." She sat down, and leaned forward as though pleading. "There's no reason for me to go, if you don't." Near tears, Al put the receiver on his shoulder until he could answer. "O-okay." With her expressions of gratitude ringing in his ears, he hung up the phone. "Great, I get to meet the family." Putting aside any apprehension he might have felt, he turned on the television and watched a sitcom and his favorite variety show, followed by a movie that reminded him more than a little of a classic from his old life. After the late news, he soaked in a bubble bath until his fingers started to get pruny, then wound his hair into a bun before putting on his favorite black silk mail order nightgown, and crawling into bed. ******************* The morning of Thanksgiving Eve was clear and cold as Jac and Al exited the taxi outside Brownwood Aircraft Leasing. Jac paid the driver, then took their suitcases out of the trunk as Al stood by, shivering despite a heavy coat. As the cab started off, he took her arm and they entered the warmth of the hangar. The plane she had rented was a twin engine with a heated passenger cabin. After stowing the luggage, she did a walkaround, then helped him into the aircraft, making certain he was secure. Strapping herself into the pilot's seat, she then ran a preflight check. Once satisfied that everything was working properly, she turned to him. "Let's head into the wild blue." She taxied onto the apron and contacted the tower. Since this small airport was not what one would call a beehive of activity, she had departure clearance as soon as she requested it. Five minutes after takeoff, she signaled that he could unbuckle. "Come up here if you'd like, but don't touch anything ... especially the pilot." Al had shed the coat, revealing a full skirted, light burgundy, belted A-line with shallow scoop neck. Smoothing the skirt under him, he settled into the co-pilot's seat. "Thanks. The view from back there ain't much." He scanned the gauges. "How high up are we?" It had been a while since Jac's last flight, so she paid close attention to her piloting, and didn't immediately respond. "Eight hundred. We have a slight tailwind, and the weather's clear all the way to our destination. Oh, speaking of weather; this front has only just reached 'em, so it's a little warmer there right now, but it'll be in the low forties by the time we land." She lapsed into silence as she became aware of a stirring in her trousers. Warily, she looked over at Al, and noted that he seemed slightly flushed. Dropping her gaze to his chest, she saw that his nipples were protruding. "You feel okay?" He responded with a note of puzzlement in his voice. "Well, maybe a little warm but, otherwise ..." With a small groan, she closed her eyes. "Perfect." From her manner, Al knew that was not the case. "Care to clue me in?" Having no choice, she answered. "You're in heat." She pressed on before he could respond. "I've started my egg-laying cycle, and you must've finished Re-Forming, because you're responding to my pheremones, which is why you're flushed, and your nipples are stiff. Also, my scent is causing YOU to release pheremones to let me know you're available." He followed her gaze to her right thigh, and gasped when he saw a long, thick ridge in the leg of her corduroys. "What should we do?" Patting his hand, she focused on the instruments. "We'll just have to avoid being separated from other people. I'm not sure about my brother-in-law, but my father and brother have cycles that are either over or haven't begun yet, so I'm probably the only one you'll really need to watch out for." Shaken, Al retreated to the passenger cabin and shut the door. He put the backs of his hands to his cheeks and felt, or imagined he felt, the warmth. Eying his bosom, he could see his nipples poking the fabric of his dress outward. From his reading, he knew these cycles lasted five days. "So I'll have to watch out until ... Monday." Worriedly, he huddled in his seat and waited for the flight to end. ******************* Their landing site was a private airstrip less than two miles from Jac's parents' house. As the plane came to a stop, a small flock of Selkirks descended on it. Jac signaled him to stay seated and climbed down to greet her kin. After a flurry of hugs and kisses, and some womanly back slapping, she assisted him to the tarmac. "Miss Alexander Freitag, it is my honor to introduce to you my father, Mr Nicole Selkirk." With a slight bow, Nicole took Al's hand in a firm, gentle grasp. "A pleasure, Miss Freitag." As Al curtsied and bowed his head, she introduced her wife Raymond, who beamed as he embraced him. Jac's brother, Iris, greeted him as her father had while Walter, her wife, gushed a little as he introduced their twin sons, Megan and Blair. Quinn Walsh, the brother-in-law, was stiffly formal and her wife, Leon, glowed with pride as he showed off their two month old daughter, Patrick. Now that everyone had met, the group piled into cars for the short drive to the family compound. As they settled into the back seat of the elder Freitags' sedan, Al leaned over and whispered to Jac. "Your family's nice." She replied in like manner. "I'd say the feeling is mutual." Nicole spoke over her shoulder. "She's right about that." Raymond turned in his seat. "Yes, you're certainly an improvement over some of her past boyfriends." Al giggled at Jac's discomfiture. "Well, ma'am, I don't know that I'd qualify as a boyfriend. We've only known each other a few months, and ..." He mock-scowled at Jac "... haven't even been on a date yet." Jac's mother shook his head with a rueful smile. "Son, what is wrong with you?" She was saved from answering by their arrival at Rancho Selkirk. Al got wide-eyed when he saw it. "Wow!" Seizing the distraction, Jac gave him a condensed history of the property and the three houses on it. The centerpiece was a two story brick Colonial that was almost a twin of hers externally. This, she explained, was the residence of her father Nicole, president of Selkirk and Son Construction. Flanking it were two single story clapboard houses, one of which belonged to her grandfather, the retired president, while the other was the abode of her elder brother Iris, the current 'and Son'. The caravan went up the circular driveway, and Iris pulled into her garage while Leon's husband parked their rental in the grandparents' driveway. Jac asked Al to join her in paying respects to her grandparents, and he eagerly accepted. Half expecting to meet a crotchety geezer, he was taken aback by Francine Selkirk's exuberant greeting. "Well, look what the cat dragged up." She bear hugged Jac and Quinn, tenderly kissed Leon's cheek and tickled the baby's chin, then regarded Al with a twinkle in her eye. "And who have we here?" Something Al was still getting accustomed to was the fact that, as a consequence of the Re-Forming, it was nearly impossible to tell how old someone was. Jac's father, who was in her mid-fifties, looked barely a decade older than her son while Francine, who must have been eighty, or very close to it, was as robust as Jac, with a face that showed few of the hallmarks of age to which Al was accustomed. Jac cleared her throat. "Miss Alexander Freitag, I am greatly honored to introduce to you my grandfather, Mr Francine Selkirk." Taking Al's hand, she bowed deeply. "Miss Freitag." His curtsy this time was such as one might perform upon meeting royalty. "Sir." The senior Mr Selkirk chortled. "Young lady, if I was single, and about a hundred years younger ..." As if on cue, her wife appeared. "Don't fall for it, honey. She ain't that great a catch." Stepping onto the porch, Vernon Selkirk kissed all the grandchildren, and scooped up his great-granddaughter after giving Al a hug, then herded everyone else inside. "Are you two ..." He pointed in turn to Jac and Al. "... comin' in?" Jac shook her head. "No Grandma, we're booked ..." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of her parents' house. "... into the palace." As they walked over, Al wrapped both his arms around Jac's left. "I bet it'd be a blast to hang out with them." Extricating her arm, she laid it across his shoulders. "Yeah, they're pretty cool." He poked her side. "Why does your mother think I'm your boyfriend?" Jac sighed. "Wishful thinking, 'cause he wants me to get married." Al moved closer. "Well, aren't you planning to? After all, you have that nice, big house ..." She halted, and turned to face him. "Well, of course I plan to ... eventually, but there's plenty of time for that." The air was getting chillier, so they picked up the pace. Once inside, Al was shown to Leon's old room by Raymond. It was this world's version of masculine, with ruffled curtains and delicate French provincial furniture. The walls were the same shade of pale blue as the curtains, and there was an ?tag?re in the corner that held antique porcelain dolls, and ceramic figurines of ballerinas and kittens. Al smiled wistfully as he scanned the room. "I just met Leon, but seeing his room makes me I feel I've known him for a while." Raymond smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on the bed. "Well, he decorated it all by himself. He chose the fabrics and colors, painted it, and even sewed the curtains. It was his term project for Home Ec, and he got an A-plus." Al turned up both thumbs. "Good work, Leon!" Raymond laughed. "He doesn't like to shower, so there's only a tub, and there are towels and spare blankets in this chest." That last was accompanied by him lifting the lid. "Dinner is at six-thirty, and you should try to be in bed by ten, because Thanksgiving preparations will start at seven a.m, and it'll be all hands on deck." Grinning, Al came to attention and saluted. "Aye aye, Cap'n." With a matching grin, Raymond exited the room. "I can see why you and Jacqueline are friends." In the hall, he looked back. "Is there anything else you need?" With a small yawn, Al shook his head. "No ma'am, I'm just gonna take a quick nap." Raymond pulled the door closed. "Rest well, dear." ******************* Thanksgiving clean-up was finished, and the ladies gathered in the living room. The noise from the den, where the women and girls were watching football, was barely audible as tea services were set out, cups were filled, and chairs and sofas claimed. Al found himself seated between Raymond and Leon, and braced himself for an interrogation. Picking up on Al's nervousness, Raymond patted his knee. "Don't worry, hon. We just want to get to know you a bit better." Warily, Al relaxed and took a sip. "Oh, I don't mind." For the next fifteen minutes he responded to inquiries from the male relatives, including Jac's younger cousins. Though careful not to say anything that could expose his true origins, he managed to avoid lying by being vague when appropriate. With their curiousity assuaged, the discussion then drifted to other topics. Raymond was regaling everyone with an incident from Jac's childhood, involving her and a boy being caught kissing behind the bushes at a church picnic, when little Patrick let the world know it was time for his dinner. With something very much like reverence, they all watched as Leon opened his blouse, unsnapped the front closing bra, picked up his daughter, and eased a nipple into the infant's mouth. Looking at Al, Leon saw a longing in his eyes and smiled knowingly. "You want one of these, don't you?" Jac's maternal grandmother, Edgar Van Doren, chuckled. "Judging by your complexion when Jacqueline is near, I'm guessin' she's in her cycle, so the pheremones probably have somethin' to do with that." Al turned to face him. "She is and ... I know they do." With a worried sigh, he continued. "I'm a little anxious about the return trip. It's a four hundred mile flight, and then the cab ride from the airfield; I might not make it home with my virtue intact." Raymond scoffed. "Oh, you needn't worry about that. Jacqueline isn't perfect, but she IS a gent." Al shrugged. "I know, but ... I don't have much experience in these matters, and ..." Raymond excused himself, returning with a small blue jar. "Put a dab of this under your nose when you're alone with her. It'll dampen the effect of her pheremones." Al saw it was an aromatic gel for relieving congestion. "How does ...?" Jac's sister-in-law, Walter, explained. "The menthol smell blocks out others, so it's kinda like fighting fire with fire." With an 'aha' look, Al nodded and turned to Raymond. "Thank you much, ma'am. I'm sure it'll come in handy." ******************* It was almost five-thirty Friday afternoon when the cab pulled up in front of Jac's guest cottage. After helping Al out of the taxi, she took their suitcases out of the trunk and escorted him to the door. "It'll be best to stay away from each other 'til my cycle is over, so I'll see you Monday." They had managed to avoid awkward situations the whole time they were at Jac's parents'. Even the flight back had been uneventful, given that she piloted the plane and Al spent the entire trip in the passenger cabin, so it was the ride from the hangar that put them to their greatest test. The trip had taken a half hour, during which time they were within arm's reach of each other. What made it especially trying was that it was the peak of Jac's cycle, so her pheremones were at their greatest strength. Despite using Raymond's gel, Al had become so flushed that he appeared to have a mild sunburn. Additionally, his pheremones were signaling his nest was unoccupied so, by the time they got home, they both were ripe for the plucking. It took every bit of Al's willpower not to drag Jac into the cottage and let her have her way with him. For her part, Jac was loath to take advantage, and made as hasty a retreat as possible, not even kissing him on the cheek in parting. Instead, she gave the driver a generous tip, picked up her suitcase, and walked to the main house. In the cottage, Al went straight to the bedroom, dropped his luggage, and every stitch he was wearing, stuffed his hair into a cap, and took a cold shower. He was drying off when the phone rang, twenty minutes later. "Is this a good idea?" Jac sighed forcefully. "Maybe not but, since we're both indoors, and about fifty yards apart ... I just wanted to see if you're okay." Sitting on the bed, he pulled off his shower cap. "Well, running nearly freezing water over my entire body seems to have cleared my head." Taking a sip of bourbon, Jac leaned back in her writing chair. "Yeah, that's how I usually deal with it." She corked the bottle and drained the glass. "I'll probably be chained to my typewriter tonight, trying to steer this tale away from the reef it was heading for so, if you need anything ..." Chuckling, Al stretched out on the mattress. "... don't call you?" He propped himself on one elbow. "How's it coming?" Jac switched the handset to her other ear. "Pretty well. I should finish the first draft before Christmas." A note of concern crept into Al's voice. "Except for visiting your parents, you haven't taken a day off since you started, and I know that you work on it way past when I leave in the evening." She was about to ask how he knew, then recalled that the cottage had a clear, though oblique, view of the side of the house where her office was located. "Okay, I've been working a lot, but only because this means so much to me." She paused. "Do you remember how I introduced myself when we first met?" Rolling onto his back, Al smiled. "Sure. You described yourself as an ... adequately selling novelist." Jac turned her chair so she could see the cottage. "Yeah, 'novelist', not 'writer'." She stood and leaned against the wall. "I've been putting out books for ten years and, between royalties and movie rights, made a good living doing it, but this is the first one that's really gonna matter. If it comes out right, I'll be able to call myself a writer and mean it." Al sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "I get it. It's your shot at the title, and you aren't gonna stop 'til the final bell." Smiling, Jac returned to her chair. "In this world, it's unusual for a man to use a boxing metaphor." Rising from the bed, Al went to his lingerie drawer and picked out a bra and panties. "Well, I'm an unusual man." Using his shoulder to hold the phone, he stepped into the lace trimmed briefs. "Okay, just ... try not to exhaust yourself." Silently, Jac blew a kiss into the phone. "Yes, Mother. Good night." Unknowingly, Al mimicked her gesture before bidding her good evening. Prior to putting on the bra, he posed in front of the mirror, reveling in the fullness of his bosom, the narrowness of his waist, and the lush roundness of his hips. "A few months ago I would've been at Tony's Playhouse on Friday night, drooling over women with mostly artificial figures that aren't nearly as good as this." Giving his head a rueful shake, he donned the bra and slipped into a pink checked gingham house dress with a flared skirt. He then looked at the time, and was surprised to see it was only six- twenty. He considered the book lying on his nightstand, but went into the living room and found four albums of Christmas music. Stacking them on the spindle, he turned on the stereo and wondered if there were any seasonal decorations lying about. Even though he had been living in a one-bedroom apartment before, he had always hung colored lights and a wreath in his window. Desiring to trim this dwelling in like fashion, he dug into every nook and cranny, but the search was fruitless. He then decided that a trip to purchase the trimmings would be first on the to-do list once he got his driver's license. After the last record finished, he returned to the bedroom and picked up the book, which was the one Jac had written just prior to the one she was working on when he first showed up. As he was wont to do when reading for pleasure, he took time to savor the tale, and nodded off as it came to an end. ******************* On the morning of December twenty-third, Al was in the midst of breakfast preparations when Jac dropped a manuscript onto the table. "Told ya I'd have the first draft done!" The dark circles under her eyes made him anxious. "Have you slept at all?" Stifling a yawn, she dropped into a chair. "Couple of hours." She held out the pages. "Once the finish line was in sight, I had to cross it." He took the sheaf of papers and found the final chapter. There was a long silence as he read it while cooking. "Ya done good, kid." He served up a generous breakfast and poured her a large glass of grapefruit juice. "Here, put that behind your belt, then go get some sleep." He put a hand over her mouth before she could voice a protest. "I mean it. You've been pushing yourself too hard." Gently, she pulled his hand