Long Weekend In Vermont free porn video

Long Weekend In Vermont It had been months since I had taken any time off from work. We had been preparing the rollout of a major software release and as the head of marketing, I was involved in every facet of paving a smooth release, from working with product development to preparing press releases to distributing test versions to all the tech reviewers. The only thing left was for the programmers to finish their last-minute tinkering. Unfortunately, that's when a major bug was discovered that would delay the product release by several weeks. The techies would be spending the next few weeks working around the clock fixing the bug and re-running all the tests to make sure that no other problems emerged. Fortunately for me, since my work was pretty well done, it gave me an opportunity to get away for a long weekend to recharge my batteries before the onslaught of the launch. There was a certain dichotomy to working in New York City. There was a vibrant, electrical undercurrent that drove the city and the people who inhabit it, inspiring creativity and pushing ambition to the limit. It was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. But there was also a hard edge to the City, a cold indifference to the individual once you had made your contribution to the greater whole. I had been working in New York for the better part of a decade, some would say too long, and I was growing tired of it. I needed to get away, even if only for a weekend. My fondest memories were of my college days in New England. I went to Chittenden College, a small liberal arts college in Vermont and I had warm remembrances of small farms and red barns amid the rolling hills, the annual explosion of colorful foliage taking over the landscape, hikes through the rocky fir-trimmed mountains, long snowy winters with skiing trips and evenings of snuggling under a blanket before a roaring fire. Of course, these memories led me to think of Eve. Eve was my girlfriend during my junior and senior years. She was the sweetest, nicest person I had ever met. We were inseparable for those two years. There was a time when I realized I could have given up all my ambitions and settled down with her. Unfortunately for me, that time did not come until several years after I had broken up with her. I had my plans to go to New York and make a lot of money. She wanted to stay in Vermont and care for sick animals. I was not ready for that type of life at the time. Nothing broke my heart as much as the tears she shed when I told her I had to go away. For a while, when the City was exciting and new to me, I was able to put Eve out of my mind. I dated many girls and even lived with a couple of them for a while. But there was a hardness to these New York girls, all with ambitions of their own, and they all paled in comparison when I unconsciously began comparing them to the innocence of Eve. I began to think of her more and more, beginning to realize the mistake I may have made. I tried looking her up online, but it seemed that she did not have any footprint on the web. I tried reaching out to the few college buddies I had kept in touch with, but none of them had heard anything about her. It was almost as if she dropped off the face of the earth. All this was on my mind when I decided to get away for a few days. I longed to spend some time in Vermont and relive those heady days of being young and in love. As fate would have it, this break in my schedule fell just about a week before the peak of leaf-peeping season. Although the roads would be crowded with tourist buses, I was confident that I could find some seclusion hiking through the green mountains, and perhaps recapture a little of that old Vermont magic. Of course, this close to the weekend, it was impossible to find any available hotel rooms, but fortunately I was able to find someone on Airbnb who had an apartment over their garage that was available to rent. The place seemed decent enough, so I made the arrangements online and headed home to pack. My one bedroom apartment never seemed so dingy as it did while my thoughts were full of the fresh air and gorgeous views of Vermont. Maybe Eve had been right all along. The next morning I got in my car and headed north. Traffic was a bear getting out of the city, but once I got on the Thruway, things began open up. I drove straight north for a few hours past Albany and then I veered east into Vermont. I retraced the winding road that I had driven many times through Bennington, past the stately white homes and the old Walloomsac Inn, which was still as dilapidated as in my college days. Downtown Bennington was dotted with banks and coffee shops and looked very much as I remembered it. Next, I drove north until I reached Manchester. An odd blend of classic Vermont and an outlet mall, Manchester seemed pretty much the same. I was glad to see the old Northshire Bookstore was still there. Eve and I had spent many hours wandering around the stacks, immersing ourselves in some long-forgotten classic. I grew warm remembering her sweet young body as we would snuggle in some corner of the store whispering passages of Neruda or Fitzgerald aloud to each other. I had plenty of time before I was expected to arrive, so on a whim I pulled the car over and headed over to the store. I loved the smell of bookstores, the scent of paper and ink mixed faintly with dust. I browsed among the used books for a while, finally settling on a biography that appealed to me. I made another brief stop for groceries and then headed out of town, into the heart of the Green Mountains. The roads became curvier as my car struggled with the increased altitude. I passed scenic vistas of rolling farms surrounded by stone walls. In the distance, I could see the white steeples of small towns located in the valleys. All of this against the dramatic backdrop of Vermont foliage near its full peak: reds the deep color of cabernet, oranges as bright as a bonfire, yellows that seemed to capture the sun. I drove through towns with names such as Weston, Proctorville and Stonefield. I drove past Killington whose slopes would be covered with skiers in another couple months. After I drove out of the bustling ski area, I followed the directions from my GPS and turned off the main road onto a smaller one called Maple Hill Road. This was a twisty path that paralleled the rock creek that ran along one side. I followed this road for several miles, up and over the top of a mountain. At one point, the paved road ended and the road consisted only of packed gravel. Just when it seemed I was in the middle of the densest woods of my entire journey, the GPS announced, "You have arrived!" I slowed the car to a halt, not too concerned about other traffic on this desolate back road, taking stock of my situation. I looked around, not seeing any houses peeking out of the woods or any nearby roads or turnoffs. The road in front of my continued to wind back and forth as it made its way down the mountain I had just passed over. I moved ahead slowly knowing how easy it was to miss some of these isolated Vermont homes. Sure enough, about a hundred yards past where the GPS had made its pronouncement, a small dirt driveway peaked out of the woods on the right-hand side of the road. I might have missed it except for the mailbox nailed to the side of a tree right where the road and driveway intersected. I checked the number on the side of the mailbox and sure enough, it was the address I was looking for. I turned off the road and drove up the bumpy, dusty driveway. It seemed to climb forever, seemingly doubling back on the mountain peak I had just descended from. I worried briefly that perhaps I had chosen a room too hastily. The website pictures had not made it seem so remote. Perhaps I could turn around and find something else once I got back in cell phone range. However, I pressed on. I might as well see what I was dealing with first. Up the driveway I continued to climb, until coming around a wide sweeping curve, the woods opened up onto a vista of incredible beauty. In a giant clearing, a white farmhouse with black shutters stood out against he blue sky and the multicolored leaves. To one side, there was a bright red barn off the driveway with a rooster weather vane on top. I pulled around the driveway, which was circular with a flagpole in the middle and came to a stop in front of the house. I got out of the car and took in the surroundings. The farmhouse and barn seemed to be located at the very peak of the mountain. Down the entire side of the mountain behind the house, the land had been cleared and I could see acres of farmland that seemed to stretch on forever. Halfway down the mountain, I could see another barn, even larger than the first. I could see some cows and sheep milling in the fields near this barn. An old wooden screen door slammed on the porch of the house and a man came striding toward me. He must have been in his late thirties, a couple inches shorter than me but stockier, in a muscular sort of way. He sported the dirty ballcap and overalls that identified him as a Vermont farmer. "Howdy, are you Mark?" he asked as he approached me. "Yes, yes I am," I answered, extending my hand. "Mark Randolph." "Tom Hogan. Good to meet you, Mark. Welcome!" "This is some place you have here," I told him. "You would never guess all this is up here driving down that road." "Yeah, we like to keep it a secret as much as possible. Keeps away the prying eyes of the leaf-peepers." "It's beautiful," I said. "Is all this farmland yours?" "Yup, just about as far as the eye can see. This mountain has been in my family for over 200 years.. They don't call it Hogan Mountain for nothing." "Wow" I said. "That's great. I see you have Holsteins. How many?" looking at the black and white cows in the distance. My college education in Vermont had not been totally wasted and I could still differentiate the varieties of cows. "Ah, not too many. Only about a dozen. The rest of them are still in the barn down there." "Are you primarily a dairy farmer?" That did not seem like a lot of cows in Vermont where dairy farming was big business and farmers sometimes owned hundreds of heads. "Nah, the milk is mostly for my own use. If we have any extra we give it to Russ West down the road to sell to the co-op." "Oh, so you live here with your family?" I asked, looking around for children's playthings or clothes hanging on a line, but seeing none. "Nah, its just me now. My parents passed away a few years ago and I have been taking care of the farm for as long as I can remember. Hasn't been a lot of time to for me to carry on a courtship, even if there was a woman who would want live way up here." "Huh, sorry to hear that. Well you have a beautiful spot here. Do you rent out your room much?" "Nah, only once in a while. I don't like visitors too much, but this is the one time a year that hotels are full and I can make a few bucks to get through the winter. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, right?" "I guess you're right. Well, I'm glad you had an opening this weekend. I needed the chance to get away." Tom led me up the stairway on the side of the barn to the loft apartment above. He ushered me into a traditional New England living room with wide plank floors, a quilted couch and a couple of stuffed chairs around a coffee table. The window at one end of the room offered an even more spectacular view of the farm below than from ground level. "Wow, this is really nice," I remarked, looking out at the scenery. "Thanks," Tom replied and moved off to show me the rest of the apartment. There was a small kitchen area with a pot-bellied stove and a table nearby. Beyond that was a tiny bathroom with a shower and a bedroom area at the far end of the room. There was only one small window in the bedroom, but an overhead light made up for the lack of natural light. I could tell that the apartment had been recently cleaned and the faint odor of Pine-Sol hung in the air. There was a neat stack of newly cut firewood near the stove. Despite his reluctance to host strangers, Tom had obviously taken the time to clean it up for me. "It looks perfect," I said. "Great, I am glad you like it!" Tom said seemingly with genuine gratitude. He handed me the keys and said, "Well, I'm right next door if you need anything." I thanked him and followed him down the stairs to my car to retrieve my bags. I would start exploring the area tomorrow. Tonight I would cook myself a small meal and spend a quiet night reading. I pulled one of the comfy chairs in front of the big window and opened the book I purchased in Manchester. I watched the sun set over the western mountains. In the distance, I could see Tom leading the animals into the lower barn. After the sun went down, the room grew cold, so I stoked up a fire in the stove. There were some electric baseboards along one wall so I turned them up just until the stove warmed up. I made a simple dinner. After dinner, the stove was really cranking and the thermostat said it was nearing 80 degrees in the room. I stripped down to just my t-shirt and jeans and settled back down with my book. I forgot how eerily quiet the nights in Vermont could be after spending a decade in the city. The only noise was the pops and crackles of the wood burning in the stove. At one point I turned out the lights and stepped out on the outside landing to stare out over the dark fields. Above, the sky was filled with hundreds, if not thousands, of stars, a spectacular natural light show so unlike anything I had seen over the last ten years. I glanced down at the house and could see the glow of a television and a single lamp in one of the rooms. As beautiful as the view was here on this mountaintop, I could not help but feel a little sorry for Tom. It seemed a lonely existence, surrounded by all this natural beauty with no one to share it. I wanted to get an early start in the morning, so I loaded the stove for the night and I read in bed for a little while before shutting out the light and going to sleep. The next morning I woke to faint sunshine coming through the small bedroom window. I arose quickly, excited to begin the hike that was the main purpose for my travels. The fire had burnt down during the night, so I threw on an extra layer of clothes against the morning chill and repacked my backpack for the day. I fixed up instant coffee and toast and had plenty of snacks for lunch. I exited the apartment into morning air cold enough to see my breath. As I descended the stairs, I spotted Tom down the hill, mingling with the sheep, gently shepherding them out of the barn. Of course, a farmer would be up much earlier than what I considered early. I watched him interact with the animals for a few minutes, wondering at the differences between his workday and mine. Finally, I started down the long driveway. I reversed my course from the day before until I got back to the main highway. A short while later I found a small dirt parking lot halfway between Killington and Pittsfield that was a trailhead for the Long Trail, the premier hiking trail in Vermont. The parking lot was already crowded this early in the morning with day hikers. Well, it was peak season after all, but I was not worried. The crowds would thin out once I got out on the trail and people went off in different directions. Funny, it had been a decade since I last hiked these trails, but starting out today, it felt like it was only a couple months ago. All the familiar sights and smells of these woods came back to me as I headed north on a trail that, were I more ambitious, could take me all the way to the Canadian border. The sun came out strong as it rose higher in the sky, with only a few passing clouds to offer respites of coolness. The forest sky was alive with bright colors while its floor was beginning to be covered by fir needles and dry brown leaves that had already fallen. I started out slowly, careful not to overdo things at the beginning. However, as the elevation increased, I had to stop frequently to catch my breath or sip some water. I shed layers as the day heated up but I kept trudging on. It was amazing the difference 10 years could make. Back in the day I could wander these trails without losing my breath. A decade of city living had definitely taken its toll. I trudged on, however, and the exertion provided its occasional rewards. I hiked up and down rocky paths that passed through pristine pine forests that went on for miles. Sometimes I would come across a granite outcrop that overlooked some valley that seemed to stretch forever. I stopped for lunch on one of these outcrops, where I was rewarded by the sight of a bald eagle, flying in low swoops as it hunted for prey. After lunch I headed another couple miles north before turning around and retracing my steps back towards the car. There were more clouds as the afternoon wore on and at a higher elevation one of those clouds opened up with a brief rain shower. Luckily, I had my Patagonia shell in my pack so I did not get too wet. A few minutes later, the sun came back out as the cloud passed. The rest of the hike passed uneventfully although I still made occasional stops. I got back to the car after 4 pm, thoroughly worn out. I just sat in the driver's seat for twenty minutes before I had enough energy to start driving back to the farm. Little more than a half hour later I was pulling up in front of the Hogan house and barn. Tom was sitting on the front porch when I arrived, seemingly reading through his mail. "How was your hike?" he called to me as I climbed out of the car. I felt it was only polite to engage him in a little conversation. "It was great. I really couldn't have picked a better weekend," I said. "Say, do you want a beer? I was just gonna get one for myself." A beer actually sounded really good right now. "Sure," I said. "I would love one." Tom disappeared into the house and came back holding two open Budweiser's. Evening was settling over the farm and except for the occasional tweet of a bird or a lowing of a cow, the world grew quiet. I told Tom about my hike, about seeing the eagle and getting caught in the shower. I slowly drained the beer and it tasted really good, the way that beer tasted only after a great exertion. "You ready for another?" Tom asked, pointing at my empty bottle. "I'm out of Bud's, but I have some of those local craft beers that are sprouting up around here." I was not sure I felt like a second beer, but I figured, what the hell, I had worked off enough calories today so that I could enjoy another one. Besides, I was interested to try something from a local brewery. Tom brought out two more bottles. These were from Magic Mountain Brewery located about 45 minutes away, near Londonderry, he told me. The beer had a peculiar hoppy taste but was still pretty good. I asked Tom what he had been doing today. "Well, I am still clearing out some of the fields after the harvest, cutting down corn stalks and such. Of course, I took care of the animals. milking the cows this morning and working with some of the calves. Jenny, one of the mom's, she is due in a couple weeks, so I was looking after her. Then I went into town to pick up some parts for the tractor. That thing is always breaking down." As I listened to the details of Tom's day, a certain peacefulness came over me. Of course his life had its ups and downs like everybody else's, but it seemed nice to have your entire world immediately around you and not have to worry about what was happening in the rest of the world. That was one thing about New York, you could not avoid the rest of the world. "Isn't it a lot of work for one person?" I asked, hoping I wasn't being rude. "Well, sure, sometimes I guess. But I've just been doing it for so long that I don't really know any other way." "Couldn't you hire someone to help you?" "Well, I do sometimes, when there's a particularly big crop. But most of the stuff we grow here is for our own consumption, for the animals, or for me and there's not a lot of money left over. Most of the money is tied up in the land itself, and I could never get rid of that. I promised my Daddy." Not for the first time, I felt a little sorry for Tom and his lonely existence. As we finished our beers, we sat in silence watching the sun set behind the mountain and felt the evening chill start to settle in. It really was a beautiful little corner of the world. I thanked Tom for the beers but I had to warm up the apartment and cook up a little grub to offset the beers, which were going to my head based on the lack of food, so I bid him good night. After dinner, I spent another quiet evening in the apartment with the roaring fire and reading more from the book. I was so exhausted from the hike and the beer that I ended turning in early. I don't know what time it was when I woke up. I was perspiring heavily and I had a sharp pain in my gut. Momentarily forgetting where I was, I got out of bed heading for the bathroom and banged into a piece of furniture, knocking over a lamp. Coming to just enough, I staggered toward the small bathroom, which I could barely see in the dim light I had left on over the kitchen stove. In the cool dark air of the apartment, I got a sudden chill that convulsed my entire body. I made it to the bathroom and fell towards the toilet bowl just in time to start retching violently. I had had food poisoning in my life but this was beyond anything I had ever experienced. I felt as if my entire body was being turned inside out, like my insides were being torn away from my skin, like every part of my insides was being ejected from me. The vomiting continued without abatement, spewing from my body over and over again until I finally passed out. Then I awoke and the whole process started over again. I alternated between bouts of violent illness and unconsciousness, profuse sweating and body-racking chills for hours. After each round of retching, I would collapse on the floor and slip into merciful blackness. I faded in and out of consciousness, not knowing if I was alive or dead. At some point, I think I even prayed for death. I started hallucinating sometime during the night, imagining there was hair getting in the way as I vomited, but it felt real enough that I felt a need to hold it out of the way, even though I had always kept my hair petty short. By the dim light that reached the bathroom from the kitchen, I also appeared thinner and paler somehow, but I guess in a way that made sense with how much body weight I must have lost during the night. I lost all track of time, unaware if I was out for minutes or hours or days. Finally, I collapsed in exhaustion for a seeming eternity. I awoke to the shouts of a deep male voice. "Hello, anybody here?" I tried raising my head but my cheek was stuck to the floor. An awful smell rose up and I realized I must be stuck in my own dried vomit. Sunlight poured into the apartment from the distant windows, so evidently it was morning already. "Hello?" the voice called again. I could hear footsteps on the floor as the voice got closer. It was definitely Tom's voice with his slight New England accent. I was embarrassed for him to find me like this, to see the mess I had made of his apartment. I tried to lift myself up, successfully unsticking my face from the floor, but barely able to lift myself on my elbows when a wave of vertigo overcame me and I could do no better than sway along with it where I lay. "Mark, are you in here?" Tom called as I heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. I did not want to shock him by having him stumble upon me here on the bathroom floor surrounded by vomit, so I tried vainly to call out to him, but nothing came out of my raw throat but a gravelly squeak. Finally, I heard Tom's footsteps stop behind me and I slowly lifted my head as high as I could, but all I could see were his dirty workboots and the bottoms of his jeans. "Oh, Lord Jesus," he said quietly as he took in the horrific scene before him. He was quiet for a long time. My neck grew tired and I started to lower my head. "Miss, are you all right?" he asked, leaning in towards me. MISS! - What the hell was he talking about? Was he high or something? I tried to say something to protest this absurdity but my throat was evidently so damaged by my nighttime expectorations that I could not utter a syllable. As I swayed on my elbows, I found myself staring at my forearm before me. There was something wrong. I must still be hallucinating because my arm seemed less muscular than before, pale white with a hint of.....freckles? The hand at the end of the arm seemed different as well. Smaller, with long tapered fingers. Wanting to get away from the strangeness of this sight, I attempted to raise myself from the floor, but the dizziness almost sent me crashing into the toilet bowl, which I could see was still filled with drying puke. "Here let me help you," Tom said as he reached in and caught my under the arms before I toppled over. He lifted me into a standing position much easier than he should have been able to, but a wave of vertigo hit me and I slumped against his chest. I know I was slouching but still my head only made it as far as his chin. He held me against his body until the wave of dizziness passed and then he did something totally unexpected. He put one arm behind my shoulders and the other he scooped under my legs and he lifted me off the floor. "I have to get you out of here. I can't think with this stench!" he declared as he carried me out of the bathroom like he was carrying me across the threshold. Again I tried to raise my voice in protest but nothing came out. As I bounced in his arms, I was distracted by a clump of pale red hair that fell in front of my left eye. I could only stare at the foreign object wondering where it had come from. Tom carried me over to the bed and gently lay me on top of the messy covers. As my head plopped against the pillow, more red hair cascaded from somewhere in my periphery vision, tumbling over my shoulders. I might have been more surprised by this, had I not been distracted at that moment by something even more alarming. Lying on the bed, looking down my body, my t-shirt was pushed out by two distinct mounds. They were not big, but from my position they were just large enough to block my view of anything further down. Even worse, I could feel the shirt scratch across skin that should not have been there. "What the -" I tried to croak as a cold chill went through my body. What the hell was going on? Why was I seeing and feeling all these strange things? Everything else in the apartment seemed normal; everything but me. Tom gave me a few minutes to compose myself, picking up pieces or the shattered lamp beside the bed. Finally, he turned and looked at me. "Okay now Miss, can you tell me who you are?" He called me Miss again. That really brought home the strange sights and feelings that I was encountering. I looked over the thin, pale arms that extended from my body. I tried clearing my throat and finally got some sound to come out, but no matter how many times I cleared it, I could not get the register to lower. It seemed stuck at some higher octave, no matter how gravelly I sounded. "Mark," I said, in an unfamiliar voice, finally looking Tom in the eyes. "Mark? Mark who?" Tom asked incredulously. "Mark. You know, from AirBnB!" My high-pitched voice sounded ridiculous. Finally, he looked a little relieved. "Oh, so you're here with Mark. He didn't mention he was having any lady friends. Oh my God. He really thinks I am a woman! "No you don't understand. I am Mark! I don't know what the hell is going on, but something happened to me last night. I went to bed last night as myself and then I got sick in the middle of the night and woke up like this." Tom looked at me skeptically. "Look Miss, I don't know what -" "Tom, you have to believe me," I said, more desperate than I had ever been of anything in my life. "It's me Mark. We sat on the porch and had a couple beers last night. I told you about my hike, getting caught in the rain and seeing the eagle. You were telling me about the farm. No one else was there only the two of us. How else would I know about that?" Tom looked shaken by these revelations that only Mark should know. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. People don't just turn from a man into a woman. " "Believe me, until a minute ago, I thought the same thing. This is not something I wanted. I don't even know how it happened!" I cried, sounding more girly than ever. Tom just stared at me for a long time but I could not read what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke calmly, "Look, I don't know who you are, but obviously you've had a rough night. I think the first thing we need to do is get you cleaned up and I've got to do something about that bathroom. Then maybe we can figure out what to do with you." He disappeared to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of warm water and some towels. He walked toward the bed and placed the bowl on the nightstand. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed and we faced each other eye to eye. He dipped a washcloth into the bowl, wrung out the excess water and then he approached my face with the wet cloth. It was not a gesture that I was expecting from one guy to another and I jumped back a little. "Look," he said, "you've still got a some "stuff"stuck to your face and clothes. You've got to get cleaned up and I don't think you're up for a shower just yet. So let me just help you clean up your face a little." He approached me with the cloth again and for some reason this time I let him. He went over my entire face with the wet cloth, wringing out the cloth several times, particularly scrubbing the side of my face that had been stuck to the floor. His touch was firm yet gentle and I started to calm down. It was an oddly intimate gesture, but after the trauma of being sick alone throughout the night and waking to such strange circumstances, it felt good to have someone taking care of me. I started to get a warm twinge from somewhere lower on my body and that scared me enough that I put my hands up and said, "Okay, that's enough!" I could see a hurt expression begin to form on Tom's face, so I put my hand on his and said, "For now. That's enough for now." That seemed to placate him, so he threw the washcloth in the bowl gave a brief smile and stood up. "Sure thing. I guess I better get started on that bathroom. You should change your clothes too. They're pretty smelly," he said wrinkling his nose. "I don't see any women's clothes around here, so I suppose you will just need to find something of Mark's to wear." Tom took the bowl and went back towards the kitchen. I gently caressed the part of my face that he had just cleaned up. It was so weird, soft hands caressing a totally smooth face, with not even a hint of stubble. Long hair framed my face and when I tugged on a strand, I felt the sharp pain on my scalp. My mind was swimming from the foreign sensations and it occurred to me that I did not even know what I looked like yet. I only had a hint of the changes that had wracked my body. I looked over to the dresser and saw the small mirror that I had groomed myself in front of yesterday morning. The only other mirror in the apartment was in the bathroom, but that was out of commission for now. I needed to get up and take stock of myself. I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed and steadied myself from the residual vertigo. My sweatpants looked unusually baggy as they pooled around small white feet that did not look familiar. The mounds on my chest shifted under my t-shirt, causing an unusual sensation from my chest. The long red hair the color of dark straw hung beside my head, blocking my peripheral vision. I looked over my body, but the baggy clothes I had worn to bed prevented me from seeing much. Since so much evidence pointed to me now looking like a girl, I had to know if the most important distinction was still intact. It was no surprise, however, when I felt between my legs and only felt a soft mound. I sat dumbfounded, mourning the loss of my manhood. What happened to me? Finally, I felt steady enough that I could slowly stand up. As I rose, I kept one hand on the bed just in case another wave of dizziness overcame me. When I was sure that I would not fall over, I shuffled over to the dresser and grabbing onto it for stability, looked in the mirror. I looked into the face of a stranger. A female stranger. The pale face matched the arms and feet that I had already glimpsed. The long red hair framed her face and reached her shoulders. She was pretty, but in a plain sort of way, more country girl than fashion model. She had thin sculpted eyebrows and a pale blue eyes and long lashes that seemed large on her face. She had a small straight nose but her lips were curvier than mine had ever been. I took a closer look, seeing minor imperfections. Her skin was impossibly smooth but had small crow's feet near the corners of her eyes and a trace of freckle across her cheeks and forehead. Clearly her age was roughly the same as mine had been before. As I leaned against the dresser for support, the girl in the mirror did the same. She was me, the realization set in. I looked like this now. I brought my hand up to my face, feeling the soft skin again, watching this foreign hand caress skin that I could feel. I traced my lips with my finger, slowly pulling down my bottom lip. The girl in the mirror tugged at her lip, revealing small straight teeth. God, even my teeth were different! How had this happened? I guided my hand down my t-shirt, past the crusty residue of last night's sickness and for the first time felt the mounds of flesh that now protruded from my chest. They were so soft, so pliant, exactly like the breasts of women I had felt over the years. Breasts! I had breasts now! They were not overly large, but there was no mistaking that I was a female. I decided that I had to get out of these dirty clothes, but as Tom had noted, there were no clothes lying around that fit me. The only clothes in my duffle bag or thrown on the chair were for a man. I picked out a clean pair of boxers, jeans and a flannel shirt. Making sure that Tom was not anywhere around, I stripped out of my dirty clothes. This was the first time seeing this body naked. My legs were as pale as the rest of me, but they were smooth and hairless. My calves were shorter and thinner than they used to be, but my thighs were now softer and rounder. My hips were now substantially wider than my waist and my butt seemed large and fleshy. I peaked down at my privates, but could only see a trail of red hair disappear between my thighs. My breasts, freed from the constraints of my t-shirt, swayed to and fro, the cold air causing my nipples, four times the size of my old ones, to harden. Despite the fleshier sections around my chest and hips, this body was lean, almost scrawny, with skinny arms and legs, narrow shoulders leading to a thin waist. I would almost call it athletic, although I had no demonstrable muscle definition. I grew nervous about Tom catching me examining myself, so I quickly started to dress. I pulled up the boxers, but there seemed something unnatural with pulling straight shorts over a round rear. The fabric pulled tight around my hips and butt, but the waistband hung loose about me. I had similar issues with the jeans and finally understood the dance that girls did to get their hips into a tight pair of jeans. After I got them buttoned, there was still about six inches of excess fabric pooled around my ankles. I folded the denim and folded again, creating 3 inch cuffs that allowed my feet to peek out. Then I grabbed the flannel shirt. I was absolutely swimming in excess fabric as I buttoned the shirt and the hem came down almost to my knees. I pulled the long hair out of my collar and my breasts swayed back and forth against the soft cotton fabric. I know I would eventually need to pin them down somehow. I tried on a pair of my shoes, but they were monstrously huge on my small feet, so I made do with a pair of wool socks, which were also big but workable. Gazing in the mirror, I took stock of myself. The girl in the mirror looked cute, if not a little ridiculous, in the oversized male clothing. It took a second to remember that girl was me. I briefly wondered if I would ever see my old reflection again. My hair was a mess, but the comb that I previously used on my close-cropped hair could not make a dent in it. I was forced to brush out my hair with my fingers, occasionally coming across some remaining crust from last night. Eventually I felt presentable enough. I slowly made my way out of the bedroom and stood outside the bathroom door watching Tom's back as he bent over scrubbing the floor. When he paused to catch his breath for a second, I said to him: "I'm sorry about the mess." He turned around and seeing me, stood up. He just stared at me with an indiscernible expression for several seconds, his eyes taking in my outfit, and possibly more. Finally, his eyes softened and he shyly smiled. "Oh that's all right. I've almost got it all cleaned up now. You look nice." I felt myself blush. Tom lifted a bucket to dump outside and when he was down in the yard I stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, feeling the fresh air for the first time today. I gave a slight shiver as this body seemed to feel the cold more easily. I admired the farm and mountains again in what appeared to be the late afternoon sun. When Tom came back up the stairs with the empty bucket, I asked him, "What time is it anyway?" He looked at his watch and said, "Nearly 4 o'clock." "Wow, I missed almost the entire day!" I marveled. "Yeah, I came in from the field and I thought it was funny that Mark's car hadn't moved. I thought he would have been up and around today, so that's when I came upstairs and found you." "I know I'm supposed to leave tomorrow, but-" "Yeah, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to get on the road in your condition. Listen, I don't know what I believe about your story, but it is obvious that you are still pretty weak at this point. Why don't you plan to stay here a little longer? It's not like anyone else was renting it anyway. Tomorrow we can see what's what." "Oh really, that's so nice of you!" I said with more excitement than I needed to. "That's no problem at all." Tom refilled the bucket in the kitchen sink and went back to cleaning the toilet and bathroom floor for another half hour. As he worked, I wandered around the apartment, seeing everything with fresh eyes. The whole room seemed larger now, or more specifically, I figured I was now about six inches shorter. The kitchen counter now hit closer to my chest than to my hips and the upper cabinet shelves that I had easily accessed the night before were now were well out of reach without a step stool. The stuffed chair where I had sat reading now looked like it could swallow me. The whole world seemed slightly off, slightly different. I wondered how I would survive in this new world. I felt a little weak in the knees, so I sat down on the edge of the chair. Tom went to dump out the bucket again and when he returned to rinse it out and put it away he asked: "Do you need something to eat or anything?" My stomach did a little flip at the thought of food. "Nah, I don't feel much like eating." He took an involuntary glance towards the bathroom and said, "Yeah, you're probably right. Say do you think it was something you ate?" "Well, that might explain the throwing up, but never heard of food poisoning turning a person from a guy to a girl." "No, I don't suppose I have either. Well, I don't think there is anything more I can do for you right now. Do you think you are okay to stay here by yourself? Do you want me to call the doctor?" "I think I'm just going to take it easy tonight. Like you said, we'll see how I feel in the morning." However, he did not immediately leave. "Let me just get the fire going for you." Despite the fact that I had started the fire myself the previous two nights, he must think I looked pretty helpless now, I though to myself. Then I chastised myself and thought, "He's only trying to be nice." Once the fire was crackling in the stove and the room started warming up, Tom turned to me and said, "Well, I guess I'll be heading down now. If you need anything, you know where I am." "Thanks, thanks for all your help. I'm sorry I made a mess of your place." "Don't you worry about it. You just take care of yourself. I'll check in on you in the morning." Tom went out and I locked the door behind him. I wandered aimlessly around the apartment again, staring out the window watching the sun set behind the mountains. I stayed there long after it had disappeared and the countryside turned dark. The first stars started coming out in the sky and I stared into the darkness for a long time. It sure was peaceful here, and life moved at a slower rhythm that one could get used to. Although I was not hungry, I felt a little chilly. I thought I might be dehydrated from the evening before, so I heated up some water to make tea. Now that the bathroom was free, I wanted to brush my teeth, which I had not done since last night. I was impressed by the job Tom had done in cleaning the room. There was not a speck of last night's mess and the room had a piney fresh smell. When the water was boiled I made a cup of herbal tea (little steps) and brought it over to the reading chair. I could not get comfortable in the large chair as my feet no longer touched the floor, so I ended up pulling my legs under me and curling up in a very girly fashion. I sipped my tea with two hands, savoring the warmth that transferred to my palms. I picked up the book briefly, but I was just too distracted to read. In the quiet of evening, with the initial shock of the change wearing off, I contemplated everything that had happened. What was to become of me? Would I ever go back to my old body again? What if I could not? Could I go back to the City, back to my old life? Would anyone believe I was really Mark Randolph? But, looking at my female hands holding the mug, I knew this was just wishful thinking. Who would believe me for even one second? No one would give the slightest attention to a crazy young woman claiming to be my former self. Life would go on without Mark Randolph as if he had died. I wondered if he would even be missed. Unless I was able to find some way back to my old body, there was really no going back to that life. What was there to Mark's life other than his job anyway? Nothing. The last few years had taken care of that. I noticed I was starting to think of my old self in the third person. But what did I have now? Even less. I was now stuck in a stranger's body with no identity, no home and no one who even cared about me. The world suddenly seemed a vast and lonely place. I felt a lone tear seep out of the corner of my eye and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. What was getting into me? I had not cried since middle school. But sure enough, another one fell from my other eye. They started coming faster and I tried to stop them, but soon they were pouring out. It was strange, but it actually felt good to let them go. All the fear, all the bewilderment over what had befallen me were channeled into those tears. I mourned the loss of my old life and identity in great cathartic sobs without a clue as to what my future held. This went on for quite a long while. Gradually the sobs began to lessen and I curled up even tighter in the chair, pulling an afghan over me. I closed my eyes, laying my head on the armrest. Before I had even finished crying, I had drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I woke up with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair. I rose slowly but did not seem to have to have any lingering effects from my illness the day before. I decided I was overdue for a shower and although I had been dreading getting more familiar with this body, I figured I might as well get it over with. I went to the bathroom, shiny and newly scrubbed thanks to Tom, and proceeded to strip my baggy clothes off my body. I watched the attractive woman undress in the mirror. I should have been turned on watching this scene, but as it was, it did not feel like anything other than simply getting undressed. Some things were different however. Long red hair tickled my shoulders each time I turned my head and my skin was so impossibly smooth and soft until goose bumps raised on my flesh from the chill of the room. I walked over to the toilet, out of habit reaching to aim into the bowl. I paused momentarily, mentally processing my new reality before turning around and sitting on the seat. I was surprised that internally, the feeling of letting go did not feel all that different. Externally, however, I did not have the same control and got some drops on the seat seat. Feeling bad after Tom had just cleaned the bathroom, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper and cleaned both myself and the toilet seat. After flushing, I turned on the hot water of the shower and stepped into the stall. The water felt good on my skin and I did not realize how badly I needed a shower. I grabbed a bar of soap and ran it over my smooth skin. My skin was so soft as I lathered this strange body. I was able to grab large fistfuls of soft flesh with my new larger butt. There were a few surprises that I had failed to notice yesterday. Little tufts of red hair sprouted from my underarms and as smooth as my legs had looked yesterday, soaping them up today I noticed fine hairs covering their lower half. While this body hair was much more sparse than it had been on my old body, I had never been into those girls who went au natural and I did not think I liked it on me. However, today was just a day to get used to my new surroundings and I did not think I could tackle such a task now. Avoiding them as long as I could, I finally lathered up my breasts. This was a totally new experience as the feeling of their cushy softness was so unlike anything I had ever felt in my old body. It felt so good that it was hard to stop, but I drew my hands away, knowing I had an even bigger issue to deal with down below. I still had not even dared to touch myself down there yet, other than through my clothes. Taking a deep breath, I lathered up the soap and ran it between my legs. For a moment I was totally lost. What I felt was totally foreign to anything I had ever felt down there, from the external equipment to the internal sensations they gave off. Of course I had touched the sex of my girlfriends over the years, but the internal feelings that these touches generated were nothing for which I was prepared. Even the brief movement of having soapy fingers gliding over this part caused a heat to rise within my whole body and my legs to get a little wobbly. God, I was going to have to be careful! Next, I had to deal with this long hair. As a guy, I had never sported longer hair, so it was surprising to me that the hair that was feathery and ticklish on my shoulders and neck when it was dry could become a heavy lump when wet. The wet hair plastered itself to the side of my face and I struggled to lather it all with the shampoo. Once I felt I had done a halfway decent job, I stood under the showerhead and rinsed it all out. I knew almost every woman swore by conditioning her hair, so I repeated the process with the bottle of conditioner I found on the shelf. When I had rinsed that out, I could feel that my hair was softer, even if it still weighed a ton. I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off. The body itself was fairly easy to handle, although I had to be careful in a few areas so I would not have a repeat of my near meltdown in the shower. However, I had no idea how to dry this mass of hair. I remember many of my girlfriends wrapping their hair in a towel on their heads, but when I tried doing this, I just made a mess that looked ridiculous. I was beginning to wish I had paid greater attention to these little feminine mannerisms. I pulled out the hairdryer and tried drying it, once again using my fingers to comb it as best I could, but it took much longer than I was used to. Once I was dried off enough I decided to get dressed. I only had one set of clean clothes left that I had packed, so I would either need to do some laundry or get some new clothes. I looked over the large male clothes that I laid out on the bed and they just did not appeal to me in the way they once did. They were not meant for this body and did not fit me well. If I was going to be spending any significant time in this body, then I was going to need clothes meant for it. As it was, I did make one adjustment. I took one of my old t-shirts and put it on under the flannel shirt so that my breasts might flop around a little less. Today I wore khakis instead of jeans and their thinner fabric seemed a little easier to pull on. I guess I was already starting to learn some things, even if only a little. I was finally starting to feel a little hungry. There was not a lot of food left in the fridge, just a few eggs and some peppers, so I fried up a quick omelet. I did not realize just how hungry I was until I started eating. I polished off the omelet quickly and found I was still hungry. I would have to think about what I was going to do about food. I was just cleaning up the dishes when there was a knock on the door. I went over and unlocked it and let Tom in. "Good morning, Miss," he said, wiping his feet on the mat. "Good morning Tom," I answered as I stepped back into the room. "How are you feeling today?" "Not too bad," I answered. "I took a shower and was even able to eat a little breakfast." "Well, that's great. Pardon me for saying so, but you clean up nice." I felt myself blush. Why did these little comments of his affect me so? "Thanks," I said, turning away to hide my reddening face. "So, have you given any thought about what you are going to do?" "Well, yes. I think the most important thing is to try to find out why this happened and if there is any way to change back. In the meanwhile, I think I have to pick up some clothes that are more appropriate for this body. I can't even go anywhere when I look so ridiculous in these oversized clothes. That, and I guess I need to find a place to stay." "I don't want you to feel any pressure about where to stay, so you can stay here as long as you like. Like I said, I didn't have any other guests lined up, so I can take it off the market until you get yourself sorted out." "Aww, that's so nice of you Tom. I'm not sure I am ready to go back to New York, at least not like this. But I want to pay you for it. I don't want to be a burden." "No, I don't want any money from you. If you feel you need to do something, maybe you can help me around the farm a little. To tell you the truth, I feel a little guilty. I hope it wasn't anything up here that got you sick. About the other thing, I really don't know what to think about that yet." "You still don't believe me?" "I don't know what to believe. On the one hand, you seem to know things that only Mark could know, but on the other hand, men don't just go and turn into women. I don't really believe in magic." "I know what you mean. I probably wouldn't believe it either if it hadn't happened to me. I swear though, I am telling you the truth." It suddenly became important that at least one other person believe me, so I would know that I was not going mad. Tom looked me directly in the eyes and said, "Okay, I believe you." I grinned, which brought a smile to his face. "Thank you," I said. "So I am going into town later today. Is there anything you want me to pick up for you?" "Well, I think I need to get some new clothes. I can't keep wearing my old clothes like this. And I need some bathroom things. I don't even have a brush and I need something to tie this hair back so it doesn't get in my face. Oh, and I am going to need some food. I am just about out of whatever I brought up for the weekend." "Sure, I can pick you up some things from the Wal-Mart over in Stonington. I'll just pick out some clothes for the next couple days and then if you need to you can go buy some things for yourself. Any preferences?" "Well, I'm not ready to dress all girly, so flannels and jeans should do. I think I am going to need some girls underwear and a bra, though." Tom laughed at my obvious discomfort. "Yeah, I suppose you'll need some of those. You don't have any idea what size you need do you?" I just shrugged, how the hell would I know what women's sizes fit me now. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll just guess for now and that will get you through the next day or two. Then you can try things on for yourself. As for food, I don't see the point of you cooking for yourself up here and me cooking for myself down in the house. So why don't we share our meals together for as long as you are here. To tell you the truth, it will be nice to have the company." This was shocking but nice of him to offer. "Sure that sounds nice, thank you." "Good, that's settled then. Why don't you come down to the house in a little bit and I will show you around before I head out. I have internet access down there because the cell service is crap around here." "Okay, that would be nice. Thanks." Tom headed downstairs and I closed the door behind him. What was getting into me, I wondered? I was getting way too comfortable in this new lifestyle. I needed to find my way back and fast. Otherwise, I could see myself getting lost up here. A half hour later I had finished the dishes and made up my bed. I figured if I was going to be staying here a while I might as well tidy up a little. I walked down the stairs carefully as the hiking boots were huge on my feet but the high ankles kept them from falling off. I walked over to the front porch where, Just a little more than day ago, Tom and I had sat drinking beers. How long ago that seemed now. I walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. Tom opened it and stepping aside, ushered me inside. "Come on in," he said smiling. It was an old farmhouse in pretty neat condition. I could tell that it had been decorated with a woman's touch at one time, but it had probably not been updated in forty years. The living room had a matching calico couch and arm chair with lacy curtains fringing the windows. Knickknacks like my grandmother used to have stood in glass curio cabinets. What were they called again? Hummels? But for as dated as everything was, I noticed that it was not messy. It seemed that someone made an effort to keep it clean. Was it Tom or did he hire someone to clean for him. Next, Tom led us into a large country kitchen. Wooden cabinets and formica countertops again pointed to things that had not been updated for a long time. Some of the appliances had been replaced, like the Mr. Coffee maker on the countertop, but only because the old ones had probably given out. Again, as outdated as the decorating of the room seemed, I could not fault its neatness. There were no piles of paperwork or crumbs on the countertops. Everything was put away and the surfaces were wiped down. The seating area featured an oval oak table with high back chairs. Sliding glass doors in the dining area led to a small deck overlooking the farm. Overall, I was impressed by the neatness and the size of the kitchen. You could fit my whole New York City apartment inside this kitchen/dining area. And whereas my apartment overlooked an alley with another apartment building across the way, this one had a view of rolling hills and gentle farmland. I smiled and turned to Tom, "It's beautiful! It's so big, and has such a nice view!" Tom lowered his head shyly. "Yeah, I guess it's OK. It's not like I cook much of anything. Nothing like the things my mother used to make before she got sick. She used to cook up some feasts in here, I can tell you." "Well she certainly had enough room in here to cook a feast. You could probably fit ten of my kitchens into this one room." "That was a long time ago. I don't do a lot of cooking for just me." "Me neither," I replied. "I just had some basics the last three nights and I think I exhausted my repertoire!" "Well then maybe we can help each other out. We might get more inspired if we have each other to cook for". "I'm willing to try it, at least for a little while. No offense, but I hope its not for that long and I can find a way back." "Yeah, well about that, let me show you the computer, so if you need to look something up." He led me into a little den with a lounge chair and a TV. In one corner was a desk with one of those old boxy computer monitors that must have been at least 10 years old. "Welcome to the center of my Airbnb empire!" Tom announced with mock aplomb. The room had a little more lived in feeling than the other rooms in the house, with piles of papers piles on the desk and a chair that was apparently well-used. No doubt this room served as Tom's man cave. Tom booted up the ancient machine and it seemed to take forever before it got online. I kept half-expecting to hear the old phone tone of those early AOL connections. It was hard to believe he could even run the little Airbnb business he did from this outdated equipment. Finally the Google search page popped up. "I assume you know what to do from here." "Yeah, thanks." "Is there anything else you need before I head out?" "No, I think I'm good for now. Thanks for all your help." I walked with Tom to the front door and watched him climb into his pickup. As he drove away down the driveway, I realized I was totally alone for the first time since my change. I walked around the first floor again, stopping to look in the large mirror over the couch. It was still so weird, seeing this attractive redhead in the mirror, feeling her long hair brushing against my shoulder. This time I touched things as I walked around, sitting on the couch cushions, opening cupboards in the kitchen to see what they held inside. I walked past the bathroom and little den and ended back up in the front hallway. My hand rested on the bannister of the stairway leading up to the second story. Tom had not thought to show me the upstsirs and to tell the truth, I didn't really want to go up there while he was around, but since he was gone for a couple hours at least, I felt inexorably drawn up the stairs. I climbed with one hand on the old dried wallpaper to guide me until I made it to the second floor. I walked down the hallway, peeking into rooms as I went. There were three smaller bedrooms that were neat and had the same vintage decoration as the living room. There was one large bathroom that had a giant bathtub and two sinks. Finally, I came to the master bedroom. This is the only one that looked like it had been lived in recently. The queen-sized bed was unmade and there were a pile of books on the nightstand. I tentatively stepped into this bedroom, feeling strange. This is where Tom slept. I wondered why that made me feel anxious. I tiptoed around the room, just looking, not daring to touch anything. A picture of an older couple in front of this very house was on top of the bureau. Tom's parents no doubt. Tom looked a lot like his father. I glanced nervously out the window that overlooked the driveway, fearful of seeing Tom's truck returning unexpectedly. Seeing nothing, I began to pick up some items, being careful to replace them in the exact same place I found them: a comb, a men's watch that looked ridiculously large in my small hand, an aged photo of a boy that looked like a younger version of Tom. I peeked into the closet and saw a collection of flannel shirts on their hangers and one navy blue suit. As I walked back through the room my fingers reached out and brushed the mattress. An image of me lying in this bed popped into my head, but it scared me so much that I ran out of the room and down the stairs at top speed. I had to get back to my old body as soon as possible before I started losing myself. I sat in front of the computer and wondered where to begin. I looked up gender changing websites but they were either medical sites about sex- reassignment surgery or some fiction sites for people who wrote stories about changing gender. I read a couple of these stories but they seemed to be some type of sexual fetish, nothing that seemed of help to me. I tried writing down a list of all the things that I had done since arriving in Vermont that could have caused this. I tried recalling anything from the hike that was unusual. I tried recalling everything I consumed. Could it have been something with the eggs? Finally, I thought of what else I had consumed. I remembered the beers that Tom and I shared on his porch. One had been a Budweiser, but the other one had been some local brew. What was the name of it? I could not remember for the life of me, so I got up and went to Tom's fridge. Maybe he still had some. I opened the door and looked at the sparse contents. There was mostly bread, produce and milk. However, on the bottom shelf there were a couple beer bottles with labels that looked familiar. I picked one up and examined it. Magic Mountain Brewery, Londonderry Vermont. I got a sudden chill down my spine. Magic. Hadn't Tom said something about not believing in magic? Shaking, I closed the door and walked back to the computer holding the bottle. I looked up Magic Mountain Brewery and they had a pretty low-tech website. Just a couple pictures of Vermont-looking guys tending their vats and some generic information about their use of local ingredients. The old me would have loved to help them with their online marketing. All I wanted now were some answers to my current predicament but this site had damn few of them. They did not even have a phone number for you to call. There was just a street address and a generic e-mail. I did not want to sound like a lunatic before I got any information, so I just sent an innocuous request if I would be able to visit their facility. I asked if there was a phone number where I could arrange such a visit. Not sure that this would lead to anything but having no better options, I sent off the e-mail. I spent the rest of the time looking up a few other Magic Mountain Brewery sites but hey mostly seemed to be reviews of the beers that were mostly favorable. A short time later I heard Tom's truck coming up the driveway. I got up and greeted him at the front door. His arms were laden with bags with a Wal-mart logo and he smiled when he saw me. "Well, I sure hope that I guessed right about your size. I ended up getting a couple different sizes of each item, figuring you could try them on and find the one that fits. Than we can return the rest once you know your size. I'll bet those ladies were talking about me, especially in the underwear department, buying all these things without knowing your size." "Oh Tom," I said as he handed me the bags "This is too much. You must have spent hundreds of dollars on me. You shouldn't have gone through all that trouble. I'll repay you as soon as I can." "Don't you worry about it. Like I said, I'll get most of the money back when we return the things that don't fit you and you'll get to learn what size you a