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The Determined Man, Part 6 - Chapter 13 Wynne pulled at and adjusted the bikini bottoms yet again. She just couldn't get used to being out in public wearing so little clothing. Beside her, Amanda noticed her discomfort again and gave her a light touch on the elbow and a sympathetic smile. Lana strode on ahead of them. Lana's skin was on display even more that Wynne's, but she almost envied her: Lana's dental floss black thong had no fabric that even pretended to give any covering, whereas Wynne was constantly trying to rearrange the little red triangle that stretched like a second skin over her ripe behind. It had been one thing in the shop when it had just been the three of them taking delight in Wynne's new-found beauty, but now Wynne felt like every pair of eyes was upon her as she made her way down the beach, hips swinging with every step as the three of them made their way through the sand. And she wasn't mistaken. Lana walked in front, looking every bit the pure fireball of sexual energy that she was. The way that she moved and her choice of attire invited the stares and gawps of almost every man in range. But, most of those men flinched when met with her gaze, even behind her dark sunglasses, knowing instinctively that she was far too much for them to handle. Those eyes that tore themselves away from Lana quickly settled upon Amanda and Wynne who walked side by side close behind. With Wynne's svelte youthful frame adorned with her tiny bikini and Amanda's exaggerated curves squeezed into a retro 1950s one-piece bathing suit, they could almost be confused for mother and daughter. Without noticing, Wynne's step had fallen into time with those of her companions and the three of them were unmissable as they strode, hips swaying in unison, along the beach. Amanda gave Wynne a little nudge and with a smile nodded towards a young man in white tennis shorts and a matching half-buttoned shirt. He smiled back, clearly in Wynne's direction with gleaming even teeth and sparkling eyes beneath a perfectly coiffed hairstyle. "Oooh, he looks lovely!" whispered Amanda. "That's a Zenith watch you know. Worth at least $10,000, and he's very keen on you dear." Wynne flashed Amanda a look of surprise. Amanda just laughed gently and smiled all the more. "Oh, you've got to learn to spot the signs dear," she asserted. "If he can afford a watch like that for himself then think of the jewellery he could buy for you!" A few yards further on, Lana decided that she had found their spot and set down the towel she was carrying on the sand. Amanda did likewise and Wynne followed their lead and settled down to lie back and soak up the sun. Once down on the ground Wynne immediately felt safer and less on show. Sure, every guy that walked past was checking them out, but at least most people already in situ couldn't see them. The sunlight was warm on Wynne's skin and she soon found herself falling into the natural relaxation of any young girl sunbathing on a beautiful beach. Between the twin attentions of Lana and Amanda, Wynne had hardly had a moment to just be. She lay back, feeling the rays on each part of her body and thought about the days events. It was real! She was now totally female. She had the gorgeous body she had always wanted. With her eyes closed she paid attention to the sensations of her body. She felt the long smooth legs that brushed together ever so slightly at her thighs when she moved them. She was aware of the string sides of her tiny thong resting on the slopes between her wide thighs and tiny waist. She noticed a gentle breeze running over her taut stomach and through the small gap between her slightly arched back and the ground. Finally she focussed her mind upon the sensation of the little bikini top that stretched over the pert round breasts on her chest. All those night lying awake in bed imagining a different self had turned to reality! But on most of those nights of a former life, she had focussed almost entirely upon the female body only, enraptured by the potential beauty of flesh alone. Now, she realised, the place of beauty in her life was much wider and more encompassing than she had imagined. That afternoon she had embarked upon that particularly feminine obligation and privilege of expending a huge amount of time and effort in emphasising her beauty. She thought of all the clothes she had bought, or more accurately clothes which Amanda or Lana had bought for her (or maybe even more accurately, that Amanda and Lana's benefactors had purchased). The super slinky black skirt that hugged her figure had been an awakening. Even in a regular daytime context, she could be incredibly beautiful, and that beauty mattered. The thought of a bright thread of sexiness running right through her life, no matter the situation, lifted Wynne's soul. Life seemed fuller, more exciting. She thanked her stars for the little black skirt and all it represented. All of the casual clothes she had found; the little shorts, the brightly coloured tops and summer dresses; they all had their charms, but Wynne's mind, meandering in her recent memories while her skin soaked up the warmth of the sun, next settled upon the white clubbing dress that Lana had picked out. It's so daring! she thought, blushing as she did so. It simply flaunted her body, saying to the world: "I know I'm hot and I'm going to enjoy it." Wynne thought of all the nights she would spend dancing in that dress, knowing that every man in the room would be noticing her. She thought about how she would now be one of the girls whose long bare legs swished down the high street beneath their short dresses and straight past any queue outside any nightclub. That little dress was a passport to unlimited fun and the accommodating assistance of any man who was in a position to give it. It made her one of the girls; one of the popular girls no less; and she loved it for that. Of course, even the daring of that white dress seemed insignificant when compared to the black and pink lingerie set that the girls had persuaded her to get. She told herself that she would probably never even wear such an outfit, but somewhere inside her she knew that she would, one day. While the white dress was scary as a message to the whole world, the lingerie was infinitely more terrifying because it was designed to have its effect in private. It would exert it's influence on just one person at a time. One special person. A man. Wynne's imagination took hold as she thought of that little bra and panties, how she would one day stand, dressed so enticingly, before a man, and see the magic of that delicate clothing work upon him. A shiver ran up her spine and she tensed involuntarily, arching her back and pressing her bare arms into the hot sand beside her. The feeling was thrilling, no doubt. She dreaded the moment, and yet knew that she would pursue it as one seeks water when dying from thirst. If the dress was a message to the world that she was free, and the lingerie a message to an individual that she was available, then what did the little string bikini she was now wearing represent, she wondered. Perhaps a message to herself? The tiny wisps of fabric covered barely any more of her than her virgin little pussy and ripe little round breasts. It was a reminder, present in how she felt every time she moved (and, when she concentrated, even when lying still) of what she now possessed. She was a girl. A girl with precious secret places that needed to be protected from others. The new found importance in Wynne's life on appearance and beauty unnerved her for a moment. Had she swapped something deep; a meaningful life of effort, progress and achievement for something shallow and fleeting? William had put in so much effort and so much deliberation. He had dragged himself up from a modest background, through a mediocre school, past doubters and discrimination. He had made something of himself. He had contributed. Now here was Wynne, wasting a few hours lying back on a beach, adding nothing more to society than a sheen of a slightly browner colour over the smooth skin of her pretty body. A wave of embarrassment, perhaps even shame, washed over her. Something within her, from the depths of William's childhood, was telling her that it was unacceptable to just enjoy life. Things only mattered if they led to progress. If they led to some betterment. All of this surface beauty, this hedonism, was an indictment. Far from being fulfilment, it was wholly empty because it led nowhere. And she, in turn, was empty along with it. Wynne squirmed uncomfortably as a small bead of sweat ran down her collarbone and down around her shoulder. Was all of this wrong? Was she morally repugnant for taking joy in something as simple and impractical as beauty? But then, if all that mattered was progress, logical rigorous contribution, then what was the end goal? What had all of his work been leading towards? He had worked, no, battled, to bring himself out of the circumstances he grew up in: Studied, taken exam after exam to prove his worth, worked both in business and in society, in order to occupy the position that he had held. And for what? So that he could work 50 hour weeks getting paid lots of money, in order to help other people, his clients and his bosses, make even more money. And then helping them to invest that money to make even more money. Where did it all eventually lead? He had always been focussed on the next task, the next challenge. But what was it all for? Logic, progress, profit: These things were utterly meaningless without an achievement in mind. How can you ascertain whether an action is logical, if you don't know why, ultimately, you're doing it? And why had William been doing it? He worked to be successful in his job. But that held little value in itself. His success brought money, but he gained little joy from the objects he could now buy. His success and his money allowed him to move in different social circles, but he often felt out of place and uncomfortable. None of these things really meant anything to him. What about Harriet? Yes, Harriet meant something. She was important. But didn't all of his effort, all of his hard work take him away from her more than it brought him towards her? Maybe all that he worked for: The success, the money, the status; was all really just about how he was seen in the eyes of others. He longed to be acknowledged. Had all his work been for the benefit of the like of the kids who teased him in school? Well, if the whole purpose of effort was fulfilling his need to be acknowledged, then what was wrong with focussing on beauty and appearance? Wynne opened her eyes upon this realisation and she immediately discovered more acknowledgement than William had ever achieved as she made out figures clearly looking in her direction. Squinting she made out the form of the guy with the tennis shorts who had smiled at her on her way down the beach. He was standing amidst a small pack of similarly pristine looking young men, several with their heads and eyes fixed upon her or her companions, and others throwing a red ball between them. "Join us for a game of volleyball ladies?" asked tennis shorts guy All of the excellently formulated justifications for enjoying her new life suddenly crumbled when faced with the prospect in reality. Instinctive shyness flooded in and overwhelmed her. Her breath caught in her throat and her mouth flapped uselessly. Lana though, had no such handicap. She sized up the guys in a moment and deemed them worthy. "Sure, I'd just love to play with your balls," she purred, easing herself up to her feet smooth like a cat readying itself to pounce. Mandy giggled softly and nodded her assent as she got to her feet and then turned to offer a hand to Wynne. For her part, Wynne felt unable to stop staring at tennis shorts guy. Somehow engaging with a man, particularly this handsome man, represented an acceptance of her femaleness that she wasn't ready for, even though she had thought she was. She looked to Mandy and shook her head. "I....um....I think I'll just stay here and watch." Mandy didn't press. She looked at her with an expression of compassion, seemingly fully understanding that Wynne needed to go at her own pace. "Sure honey, that's fine. We won't be too long." Tennis shorts guy looked rather put out, but he wasn't going to cause a stir when he still had Lana and Amanda to lavish his attentions upon. The game started up with a little whooping and clapping and Wynne sat up to watch feeling terribly torn between wanting to enjoy herself and feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being on show. She spent a few minutes of watching and noticing how the guys leered at Lana when she stretched for the ball or Mandy when her luxurious body bounced and wobbled as she fell to the floor. It was all a little too real, the prospect of sex a little too close, and she reasoned that the best thing to do would be to go back to her sunbathing, back to her thoughts and process again the new found information about the limitations of her confidence. She lay back again, with the intention of further self- examination, but the sun was warm and the sand soft and soon she drifted off to sleep. --------------------------------- Harriet. Her face came again to William in a dream. Harriet's familiar loving face. The face that William had always come back to. The single constant point in his universe, even as they moved and aged together. But this time there was something different. An expression he had never known. And the cause of this expression was because that face now gazed upon him. William found himself looked upon as a stranger. But even worse than that, a stranger who was supposed to be familiar. He saw Harriet's sad, confused eyes stare into his own and then pass down over his body. He followed their gaze and looked upon himself. Or herself. Giant breasts dominated his view, tanned and oiled and wrapped in a bright pink bikini. He reached out to cup them and they wobbled and bounced comically in his hands. He looked up to Harriet again to try to explain but his mouth betrayed him, moving wordlessly in vain. There was no sound, only the feeling of ludicrously inflated lips almost bouncing off each other. This isn't what he had done. This isn't the body he had chosen for himself. He wanted to make sure that Harriet knew that. But then. What possible difference did it make whether his tits were big or small or his mouth elegant or sensuous? He knew, looking into her silent, mournful eyes, that it mattered not at all. He had taken her William away from her. Stolen him in order to make a plaything for herself. ------------------------------------------------------------- Wynne woke with a start and immediately knew that something was wrong. Her skin was crawling and every movement felt like rubbing against sandpaper. She blinked hard to clear her vision and looked down at herself. It took her a moment to realise what she was seeing. It was rough, red, blotchy, almost scaly. And it was her skin. She gasped and half-choked in shock. Something was terribly terribly wrong. She gagged and waved her arms. It seemed like an age passed with barely a breath drawn. She was panicking and she hardly even noticed when a comforting arm, and then a second, wrapped themselves around her shoulders. "We're here Winnie," said a voice, soft and full. "We're going to take care of you," said another. She was lifter to her feet and a towel was wrapped around her. She looked from side to side and saw the faces of Lana and Amanda, concerned but not shocked and she found that she could breathe just that little bit easier. "It's OK," said Amanda. "This happens occasionally but we can get it all fixed." Soon Wynne was back in the car, still wrapped in the towel and now sitting between the two other women. Dizziness came to her in spells and then darkness descended. Chapter 14 She awoke, naked, lying on a table and with a warm hand placed on her forehead. She knew immediately from the rough feeling as she opened her eyelids that her skin was still the same and she began to panic again. This time however there were several soothing voices and three faces hovered over her with gentle eyes. She recognised Lana and Amanda but the third was covered with a surgical face mask. She looked again and saw something familiar. "Hello William," said the third person, a woman. "Or Wynne, I understand you've chosen now. I think that's a lovely name." The kind words were delivered awkwardly, as if rehearsed. "I'm the doctor who carried out your transformation." Wynne looked again and now recognised the impassive eyes and stern, plummy voice. A wave of hope washed over her. She was with the professionals; They would be able to help her. "Regrettably you've suffered some side effects of the process. As I explained, the procedure is still in an experimental phase and the possibility of these things cannot be entirely eliminated. We believe that the problem is caused by the very high intelligence enhancements that you requested. Changes to the brain are the most resource intensive of changes and providing an enhancement on top of your already substantial intellect seems to have required more power than the nannites had available. By default, mental faculties are assigned the highest priority level and therefore the nannites have drawn resources from elsewhere on your body." Wynne nodded, taking in all of this information. She could have complained; she could have asked why she wasn't informed of this possibility at the time, but here, back in the facility, under the care of the doctor, she just listened and agreed. "We believe we can resolve the situation," continued the doctor in a most businesslike fashion. "By re-prioritising the transformational elements in the programming of the nannites. This will refocus their efforts upon your skin and re-establish the desired result. However, it would mean giving up your mental enhancements. You would return to your original intelligence levels." The doctor paused, apparently giving space for some response. Wynne instinctively looked over towards Amanda and Lana for confirmation. The two women, who had withdrawn somewhat now both leaned towards Wynne and gave sympathetic nods and smiles. "So, shall we proceed?" asked the doctor. It was not a difficult choice. Wynne valued intelligence, but William's original brain power was quite sufficient. On the other hand, living with painful, horrific-looking skin would take away from her the life that she had given up everything else for. "Yes," she said. "Thank you," she added, after a moment. "Very good" said the doctor and turned away to pick up something from a nearby table. Wynne looked again at the girls and saw them both smiling brightly. "You see, everything is going to be absolutely fine" whispered Amanda. The doctor returned and Wynne was very surprised to see in her hands the tiny red bikini that Wynne had been wearing on the beach. "We have impregnated these articles with nannites that will communicate with the nannites inside your body and provide the new instructions" explained the doctor. Seeing the look of confusion upon Wynne's face she continued. "Each article can be used for only a single delivery of nannites as a signature is left after each delivery which would interfere with later deliveries. The articles remain wearable, but cannot be used a second time. We cannot therefore use your original transformation suit. We require garments that fit you well and in this case the number of nannites to be delivered is low and therefore the clothes you were wearing when you came in are ideal." Wynne took the tiny briefs and bikini top handed to her and felt them in her hands. The thought struck her that if she didn't put these on now, let the nannites do their work, then she would probably never wear a bikini again. Painfully, she brought her scarred legs up the table and slipped on the briefs, pulling them gingerly up into place. She sat up on her elbows to put on the bra. It was only at this point that she thought it strange that none of the three other women in the room moved to assist her at all. She tied the bikini top around her back and lay back down, waiting for the process to begin. It took only a few moments before the little bikini became suddenly tight around her crotch and chest. With her damaged skin the pain was greater than the last time, but it lasted for only a moment. The tingling and fizzing now within her body was far less than previously. Little waves of excitement flitted through her sporadically like the northern lights across the night sky. Next came a sudden dizziness and then, just as suddenly, the feeling was on her skin. It felt like someone was rubbing the most luxurious cream deep into her body. The first sight of the return of her supple pink skin drew an involuntary gasp of relief from Wynne's airways. It bloomed from her tummy and spread over her body quickly. Another patch began a moment later on her left thigh, and then her right breast. Soon her whole body was back to it's original youthful perfection. Wynne raised herself on her elbows and made to get up, but was then stopped in her tracks as another wave of tingling washed over her. Her skin seemed to sparkle and then began to change again, a glowing tan spreading over her body. It soon encompassed all of her legs and torso and she felt its warmth as it ran up her neck. Wynne opened her mouth in surprise, and as she did so she felt something else change. The tingling gathered in her lips and she felt them swell slightly. Taken by surprise, her mouth hung open for a few moments. When she brought her lips back together they seemed to want to remain parted just ever so slightly in the middle. She looked over to Amanda with an expression of shock and worry, thinking perhaps that she might be horrendously disfigured. But instead of a confirmation of her fears she received only a beaming smile and a giggle in reply. "Oh Winnie! You look just gorgeous!" Amanda quickly whipped a hand mirror out of her handbag and skipped over to the table. Wynne took the gift offered to her and gave her face a thorough review. It was still the same face, but it was also a little different. Her lips were now very different, but they were not deformed. In fact they were substantially more dramatic, the natural parting caused by the exaggerated and sensuous bow that her top lip now possessed. That wasn't all though. Along with the whole body tan that seemed to positively shimmer, her eyelashes were lnow onger and fuller, making her eyes look much bigger. The hair on her head had noticeably more volume and the now softly waving locks were much longer, reaching about half way down her back. "But...." she stammered. "Why.......I don't understand." "Please be calm Ms Cresswell" interrupted the doctor. "This is not unexpected. We have given your skin higher priority in the nannites matrix and accordingly they have enhanced that element of your body. Your hair and lips are of course linked to your skin and so have also been enhanced." Wynne listened, and once again the doctor seemed to make sense. She looked at herself again in the mirror. "Enhancements" the doctor had said, but Wynne didn't even know if she wanted this. She looked gorgeous, yes, but in a most directly sexual sort of way. A part of her, deep inside, was skipping with joy, while another part was teetering and tottering, worried and unsure of whether it was still in control. "The procedure has been a success," pronounced the doctor. "I will leave you know in the hands of your acclimatisation partners and we will see you again at your next routine check up." "I...." said Wynne quiety. "I'm not sure....I...maybe...I want to go back......" By the time she looked up to discuss her options the doctor was gone, exiting swiftly through a plain white door. "Hey jailbait, you look even more fuckable than before," said Lana with a wicked smile. "You see!" said Amanda with glee. "It's worked out even better than it was before!" Wynne looked at her guides with some consternation. It wasn't that she was devastated at the loss of her higher intellect, but she was rather put out at the apparent complete dismissal of its importance by her companions. They seemed entirely focussed on her physical "improvements" and hadn't even mentioned the loss of her higher mental abilities. "Just look at you," said Lana, her enthusiasm undimmed. "I would kill for such a perfect set of kissers. It's like you've got another horny pussy right there on your face. Every man will want to put his dick between those pillows." Wynne started at Lana's words. "But I don't want to have every man's cock in my mouth!" she exclaimed. "Just one lovely man" offered Amanda. "One lovely, strong, caring man. Believe me, even the good men like their ladies to be sexy. He'll love you just that little bit more, hold you that little bit tighter..." "Well, maybe you don't want every man" interrupted Lana, completely ignoring Amanda's point. "But that's the magic of being a sexy girl. You get to choose exactly which cocks you want to suck. You can have just the really hard cocks, or just the fucking huge cocks, or just the cocks that are attached to very wealthy men." Wynne just stared at Lana, not knowing how to reply, but Lana wasn't finished. "And even more than that, as a gorgeous girl, you can play with sex. Every guy wants to have sex with you, so you can make a game out of it. Tease a bit, make suggestions, leave them hanging. Or not. Your choice." Something about what Lana was saying chimed with Wynne: The joy of being light and playful with something as exciting as sexuality. But some other part of her was still fighting. She paused, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Why don't we go back to the beach." She hadn't meant to say it. And she didn't really know why she'd said it. But neither did she want to withdraw it. The implication hung in the air around them, unanswered. Amanda drew near with a look of slight concern. "Are you sure darling? You've had a bit of a shock. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have a rest?" Amanda's face was only inches from Wynne's, but Wynne was looking past it, to the silently smirking Lana. "Yes," said Wynne simply, "I'd like to go back to the beach." ------------------------------------------------ The three of them walked across the sand together once again. None of them had said anything, but it was clear that Wynne was leading this time and she was looking for something, or someone. And very soon, there he was, tennis shorts guy, lounging on the sand, sharing a few drinks with his buddies. Lana immediately picked up on Wynne's change of direction and spotted the men that were her objective. She strode along purposefully beside Wynne, leaving Amanda somewhat trailing in their wake. Soon they were closing in on their targets. It was one of the other guys who spotted them first; tall, dark and with a goofy smile, but he soon tapped tennis shorts guy on the shoulder and he turned to watch the approach of the girls. "Hey there," he shouted over as they neared. "Good to see you again Lana." "The pleasure is mine Olly, Hey, have you met my friend Wynne? Wynne, this is Olly. Olly, this is Wynne." Olly's face lit up into that super-charming smile that he had previously directed at Wynne as she had first walked along the beach earlier that day. "Hello Wynne. But didn't we meet before..." he hesitated, looking hard at Wynne and taking in her whole appearance "..but, no, sorry you look a lot like Lana's other friend but now I can see that you're not her..." "Oh they're twins," said Lana, eliciting an excitedly raised eyebrow from Olly "Her sister needed to lie down, but Wynne here wanted to come down to the beach after we told her we had so much fun earlier. You're lucky, Wynne's the pretty one." Wynne blushed slightly and held out her hand to Olly who took it gently in both of his own, cupping it like a butterfly and turning it as he brushed his thumb over her palm. "You have very beautiful skin Wynne" he said, looking deep into her eyes. "And such great hair. Longer than your sisters, yes?" Wynne smiled back at him and silently giggled, tossing her hair in an only partially ironic way. Lana was right, this was quite fun. It was nice to be complimented, and she could play along as much or as little as she wanted. She needed to ease into the flirting. Just a little today to get her confidence back after the issue with her skin, she told herself. Rising on to tip toe she swivelled around to let Olly see how far down her back her hair went and glanced, coquettishly over her shoulder. Olly stepped in and gathered her hair lightly in his hands. "So soft" he said "It's very lovely indeed." He traced his fingertips around the outline of her hair, running them down her skin as he did so. Wynne felt a little shiver down her spine and arched her back slightly in response. Olly brought his fingers together at the lowest point of her hair, sitting gently at the small of her back and held this position for a few seconds. Wynne looked again over her shoulder and saw that Olly's eyes were locked firmly on her bottom, which she had unthinkingly pushed out towards him as she had responded to his touch. His eyes were glazed and a smile fixed upon his face. She felt at once incredibly vulnerable and incredibly powerful. It was such a rush. She spun around again and dropped back down from her tip toes. Olly's gaze slowly rose up her body to her face. "Hi Olly," she purred, "I'm glad you like my hair." She reached out to place one finger against his chest where a few strands of body hair were visible at the top of his partially unbuttoned shirt "I rather like yours too." Olly grinned back. "Well we were just chilling, but we'd be happy to play another game of volleyball if you'd prefer." "I think let's just come and chill along with you," said Lana, who was already exchanging meaningful glances with the guy with the goofy smile. He quickly moved his towel over to make space and Lana rolled out her own and lay down next to him. Wynne set herself near Olly and Amanda, who had now caught them up, positioned herself as close to Wynne as she could. It turned out that the guys had brought along a bottle of vodka, some ice and some tonic water in addition to their beers and soon the girls were each sipping from a cool glass as the sun beat down on their skin. There were four of the guys, but two of them didn't seem to mind sharing Lana's attentions, and Amanda had cornered the most friendly and sexually unthreatening of the bunch, which meant that Olly pretty much had Wynne to himself and they conversed in a meaningless way, Wynne had chosen to lie on her front, placing on show her bottom which had so entranced Olly. Olly lay on his side, propped up on one elbow. "You have a great tan you know," he said. "Thanks." "I guess you have to put in quite a bit of work to keep it up." Wynne laughed softly. The idea that tanning was work was too far removed from her old life for her not to find it amusing. "Well, it's not really work, you just lay down in the sun and let it do its magic." "You must use some good product though. I could help you put it on if you want. Do you have anything with you?" Wynne stopped for a moment. He wanted to touch her skin again. Was she going to let him? A part of her still felt strange about letting a man touch her, but hadn't she though that through earlier and decided to just go for it? She couldn't quite remember exactly the thought process she'd gone through, but she remembered the conclusion: Girls just want to have fun. What she did remember was that Lana and Amanda had given her some tanning oil that she had placed in her bag. Maybe she'd just let him do a little bit. Maybe just her shoulders. Still lying on her front she reached around and fished it out. She passed it to Olly with a sweet smile. "Thanks, that would be great" Olly rose and knelt beside her. He warmed the oil in his hands and then placed them upon her shoulders. To Wynne his hands felt absolutely huge. They seemed to cover half her back without even moving and it reminded her how tiny she now was. Olly seemed to know what he was doing and massaged the oil into her shoulders, kneading the skin as he did so. Wynne had to really concentrate in order to relax. A man was touching her! For a moment that was her only thought. And then another came to her: A good looking man was touching her: A strong man. Her initial reluctance soon vanished away and she melted under his touch. He moved on to her arms, which each lay, palm down and bent around her head. He pushed firmly along the length of each, ending with his large fingers sliding slowly between Wynne's own elegant digits. It felt mildly electric and Wynne moaned quietly through closed lips. In order to rub the oil into Wynne's second arm, Olly had to lean over her and she enjoyed the sensation as she feel his heavy, warm presence hovering a few inches above. As he completed the second arm, Olly withdrew and knelt upright. Wynne expected wasn't sure whether that was the extent of his planned attentions. That was as much as she had contemplated, but she hadn't really communicated that to him. She decided the best course was simply to do nothing, and let him either continue or sit back down again. But neither happened. Instead Olly continued to kneel beside her and the pause stretched to ten seconds, then twenty. Feeling in quite an alien situation, and heart beginning to beat harder in her chest, Wynne turned her head and craned her neck to look up at him. He looked back with expectant eyes and nodded toward the centre of her back, clearly expecting her to take some necessary step. Wynne had to think for a moment. Her top! He wanted her to untie her bikini. Her heart beat even faster and her initial feeling was to refuse. But no, she had determined that she would engage with her new body, her new life, and that meant letting others engage with her too. Still with some trepidation, she reached around behind her and untied the knot at the back of her bikini. Laying the straps down to the side she was aware that the sides of her breast, pushed outwards as they pressed against the towel beneath her, were now exposed to the world, and she was fairly sure that she saw Olly taking in the sight. His big hands descended upon her again and covered the middle of her back. His thumbs ran slowly down her spine, while his outer fingers wrapped around her sides, straying onto the bulge of her breasts. The initial shock of being touched was dissipated quickly, leaving behind a warm glow reminiscent of warming ones hands by an open fire. Olly made a second pass down her back for good measure and then shifted again. He rested his hands low on her back and moved so that his calf rested against her hips. "May I?" he asked. Wynne turned her head again to ascertain the purpose of his request. From his posture she saw that he meant to move so as to be straddling her, all the better to reach right around her lower back. Her eyes widened slightly and she pursed her lips, but she nodded her assent. Olly didn't hesitate, placing one leg either side of her hips and laying his hands once again upon her back. He worked his way down her narrow girlish waist and around the wide curve of her back as it flared towards her feminine hips, pressing his fingertips into her soft supple skin as he went. Wynne was now fully immersed in the feeling of being touched. She was truly enjoying it, and she knew that Olly was enjoying it too, which only heightened the experience. His hands reached the top of her flimsy red bikini briefs and here Olly lifted off the pressure and traced the top of the garment with just a single finger of each hand. This lighter touch made Wynne gasp. So much more intimate, so much more exploratory. There was potential in its precision, potential to intrude inside her bikini, to her naked bottom, down between her legs and up in front to....to.....her...... But Olly didn't intrude. Instead he rocked back onto his haunches, resting over her upper legs, and began again below the line of her briefs. Spreading his strong fingers across her hips he used his thumbs to work the oil into the ripe flesh of her bottom. She held her breath as she felt her bottom pressed inwards and then spread outwards by the pressure of this man's expert touch. She knew that from his position he would be able to see all of the thong of the briefs as it plunged between her butt cheeks. Olly continued on, moving himself progressively further down her legs. He covered her thicker thighs in a sweeping motion, causing Wynne to experience a rather unfamiliar slight wobbling sensation and then drew one hand ever so slowly down each calf, seeming to go on for ever and emphasising the mesmerising length of each of Wynne's legs. Finally Olly was finished and he waited a moment, before making his way back to his towel. Wynne turned her face towards him and smiled a long, lazy, satisfied smile. She had just met this man, she thought, and yet she had extracted such pleasure from him, and somehow, against her own expectations, she felt so comfortable with it. Entitled maybe. She possessed a beautiful body and she had allowed him to experience it with her for a short time, in exchange for feeling his intoxicating touch. Olly smiled back, a man satisfied and proud to be bestowed a smile from such a gorgeous girl. He sat upon his towel and then reached down to take hold of the hem of his shirt and promptly pulled it off over his head. Wynne held her gaze firmly as Olly's upper body was revealed. Her eyes flashed with barely concealed delight to see what lay beneath his shirt. He was well built and in great shape, with definition clear in his stomach and his arms, but he wasn't overly muscular. There was something even more manly, Wynne realised, about a man who maintained a natural level of musculature, as well as his natural body hair, rather than neurotically pumping and preening himself into a hairless, oiled display piece. Olly's body was strong and confident, with function and purpose. It looked like it was designed to work. To move heavy objects, to become sweaty with effort. Wynne raised herself up on one elbow unselfconsciously to take a better look. Olly smiled back. From this position Wynne could see her surroundings better and she glanced over to her companions. Amanda and one of the boys were sitting up chatting happily, while Lana had one leg and one hand draped over one large male body while another man rubbed oil into her back. Everyone was happy. Everyone was relaxed. It gave Wynne confidence. It released her inhibitions. She picked up the bottle of tanning oil and looked again at Olly. "Shall I?" she asked. "Please." Olly flipped onto his front to allow Wynne access to the great expanse of his back. As Wynne stretched out her arms she saw how incredibly slim they were. How delicate and fragile compared to the powerful muscles that moved beneath the surface of Olly's back. She was reminded of those small fish that flitted across the back of great sharks cleaning them of debris and such. Surely such little hands like hers were made to service the likes of warriors like Olly. Her hands reached Olly's back and she began to rub in the oil. At first, her touch was light upon his skin, but he reacted with a satisfied hum when she pressed a little harder. Wynne paused for a moment. He was enjoying her touch. Her touch as a woman, as a female, was giving this man pleasure. She had been thinking about her own body. About a man touching her, but it was even more extraordinary, even more undeniably feminine, for her to provide her attentions, her touch, to this big man. Something fluttered inside her. She liked it. She worked her thumbs into the thick muscles either side of his spine and noted with a smile that they relaxed and softened with her attentions. Wynne began to enjoy herself, running her hands slowly up each of Olly's sides and up his large arms. Soon though she was finished and she moved herself away on her knees. Olly shifted onto one arm, the muscles moving in his back like an earthquake. He propped himself up to turn his body towards Wynne. Oh. Her touch had apparently been more effective than she had realised. Olly smiled, knowing exactly what he was doing: What he was showing to her. Those little tennis shorts, stretched outwards by something within them that was decidedly not little. Big. Strong. Hard. Wynne's eyes were the size of saucers and she bit her lip unthinkingly. Her mind was empty. Something other than thoughts using up all of her mental capacity. And then a hand was on her shoulder, and Amanda's voice broke through the haze. "Wynne honey, I've just noticed the time. We must get back to mine so that I can finish up preparing the dinner." Part 6, Chapter 15 While Wynne wouldn't have said that Amanda was awkward at the beach, she would, if pushed, had admitted that Amanda was probably the least naturally attuned to that environment out of the three girls. Here though, in the warm, homely surrounds of Amanda's own kitchen, she was clearly the mistress. The queen of the home. Pans and utensils floated smoothly in her hands from their designated place to the stove and back again. She simultaneously placed a spice jar back in its place on a rack on the wall while all the time looking at Wynne with smiling eyes as she gave her the recipe for the flapjack that Amanda had whipped up in her second oven while the lamb was roasting in the primary one. The only thing more impressive than the sight of Amanda working in perfect harmony with her kitchen was the smell of the food that she was creating. Everything was exquisite. From the comforting ooze of the buttery potatoes to the invigorating crispness of the home-made mint sauce ("from the mint we grow in our own garden." Amanda had said with quiet joy "The secret is to chop the mint as finely as you can.....") Wynne had tried to ask some questions, but Amanda brought everything back to the importance of being a good wife and mother. A question about what her husband did for a living was answered by earnestly expressing how much she appreciated how hard he worked for her and the children, (Isobel, 4, and Charlotte, 2, Wynne soon learnt) and how it was the absolute least she could do to make sure that he was well fed and provided for. An enquiry about her previous life, before the change, resulted in an exposition on how grateful she was to have the life that she had now, and how it was important to always smile and take joy in the present, so as to provide a happy positive upbringing for their two little daughters. After all, she wanted her little princesses to be as joyful as can be, to bring a little happiness and light to their daddy's face when he came home from work. It was around the time that she was saying this that the sound of the doorbell was heard. Amanda untied her apron and placed it on a hook perfectly placed for the purpose by the entranceway to the kitchen, and virtually skipped to the heavy oak front door. Coloured light from the plate glass windows surrounding the door danced across her bright white dress as she moved. Wynne trailed along behind, unable to move at quite the same pace in her high-waisted black pencil skirt that she had chosen for the occasion. "Hello little darlings!" Amanda trilled as she opened the door. "Don't you just look adorable!" she said to a little girl of about two, presumably the aforementioned Charlotte as she whisked her up in her arms. The slightly large Isobel wrapped herself around her mother's leg. The door was fully open now and Wynne could see the woman who had returned Amanda's precious brood. She wore a knee length floral dress and wore her brown hair in a neat bob. "Thank you so much for taking them Milly," Amanda was saying. "I've been having such a marvellous time welcoming a new girl to the island, but I do miss my little ladies so." Amanda bent down and placed her hands on either side of the older girl's face and beamed at her. "Oh Milly, you must meet Wynne, the new girl I mentioned. Wynne, this is Milly, my next door neighbour," Amanda said brightly and then turned to Isobel and Charlotte "Now you too run along and get yourself ready for dinner. Daddy will be here soon." The two little girls screamed "Daddy!" and ran off down a corridor giggling, while Amanda made her apologies and went to put the finishing touches to the meal. Milly stepped towards Wynne and offered her a silk- gloved hand in greeting. "Very nice to meet you Wynne. I'm Milly. We've been looking forward to your arrival." "Thank you Milly. I didn't know I had been discussed." "Oh yes! Ever since Jonathan and I arrived on the island this week it's all that anyone has been talking about. I hope you don't mind if I report back to the girls how beautiful you are. I do hope that you'll join us for tea tomorrow so that everyone can have a good look at you." Milly giggled in a rather conspiratorial way. "So you've just arrived," said Wynne, keen to change the subject. "Where have you moved from?" "Oh, no, we've not moved." Milly laughed lightly. "This is just our holiday home, the same as Mandy." Wynne tried to hide her surprise and thought that she probably just about managed it. The houses on the street were huge, imposing buildings, each clearly demanding a number of staff to maintain the building and grounds. Mandy's at least was also filled with furniture and books and other personal items. It looked like it was designed for one family. If it was only used occasionally, then it was probably left empty the rest of the year. "Our main home is in Kensington, back in old London," Milly continued, "but a lot of us girls and our husbands come back to Mauritius every year. It's sort of a reunion." From Milly's use of the phrase "us girls", Wynne took it that she was another transformee, and Wynne was taken aback that they seemed to continue to socialise together, and even apparently to refer to their situation fairly openly. Did their husbands know what it was that bound them together? Their conversation was interrupted by a call from the kitchen door. "Wynnie dear, would you be an angel and help me set the table. With all our nattering, time has rather gotten away from me" Amanda was on her way to the dining room carrying a large serving tray with two large joints of lamb, but she still looked the epitome of elegance. "Milly, thank you so much," continued Amanda "Give my best wishes to Jonathan. We'll come round for tea tomorrow and we can catch up properly then." Milly said her goodbyes to Wynne and Wynne followed Amanda into the dining room. Both the room and the table were immaculate. The wooden floor gleamed and reflected the light from the brass lamps with ornate shades that hung from each tastefully painted wall. The table itself was of heavy oak and placed around it were several matching high-backed chairs. Even the smallest girl's high chair appeared to be an exquisite period piece. Wynne spotted the open cutlery chest on a sideboard and dutifully began placing gleaming knives, forks and spoons around the table and then added a bright white napkin to each place setting. Just as she completed her task, and with all of the dishes arranged by Amanda perfectly down the centre of the table, the doorbell rang. This time Amanda didn't skip. She floated. She held herself more upright: Shoulders back and chin up, an idyllic smile upon her lips, and made he way to the front door. Wynne subconsciously picked up on the mood and without knowing why found herself smoothing her skirt and checking how her light pink blouse was set. It felt as if something momentous was about to occur. Amanda's husband was about to arrive. In the hallway Wynne stood back as Amanda prepared herself one final time, batting her eyelashes and spreading out her hair on her shoulders. Striking a perfect smile, she flung open the door of their perfect house to welcome her husband back to his perfect family. Wynne was shell-shocked by what she saw. To her, the smiling man standing in the doorway was a ghost from another era and the very last person she could imagine when hearing Amanda's description of a doting husband and father. He was a reminder of a past life in which William had flexed his intellectual muscles to impress clients in restaurants in London. He was quite unmistakable. Tony.