Maybe It's Magic - Final Chapters free porn video

Maybe It's Magic by RH Music Chapter 7: The Concert It is Thursday, just two days until our evening out in New York, and I am worried. Am I starting to have feelings for Mr. Feyla? Is that possible? What is clear is that my female parts (as I call them now) get wet all on their own - no salve required (although I still apply it every two hours, as Morgen suggests). Further, the 'indentation' is getting deeper and deeper, up to two knuckles deep. Okay, it's a hole. I really can't call it an 'indentation' any longer. Worse, whenever I think about Mr. Feyla, things 'down there' get all slippery... all on their own. And most unfortunate, this happens when we're together! He touches my arm when he's explaining something at dinner and it happens. Yesterday it was so bad I had to excuse myself! And there I was, in the bathroom, practically panting. I would have splashed cold water on my face to calm down, but I didn't want to ruin my makeup. Oh, how inconvenient it is to be a woman sometimes! Can he smell it? I wonder. Can he tell that I have the hots for him? Oh god, I hope not. I would die if he knew. I know he'd be very gallant about it, but oh GOD it would be so embarrassing. Thank the heavens Morgen will be going in New York with us. Thinking about spending a romantic evening all alone with Mr. Feyla... no, I just don't want to think about that. Push that thought deep, deep back there and be thankful that Morgen is coming to the dinner and concert on Saturday. I'll make sure that she's always sitting between me and Mr. Feyla and I know I'll be fine. * * * "I told you," Morgen says, when I mention my new feminine wetness. "You're cursed. I hadn't thought of it before, but I bet the salve is turning you into a woman." "But... but... that's impossible! It's just not medically possible!" "Kelly, it's magic! Why won't you listen to me? The salve must be a magic potion. It came from Mom. She told me when to use it. I think it's changing you and the more you apply, the more you change." "You know there's no such thing as magic." "Says you." "Yes, says me. Besides, you said it was all reversible." "Well, sure, if you stop using the salve, stop dressing up in women's clothing, and move out." "But I don't want to move out! I like it here. You and Mr. Feyla are family to me." "Then just stop using the salve." "But... I like using the salve. It makes me feel nice... you know... down there." "Well then, stop dressing up in women's clothes. Have you been back to the Salvation Army to get your clothes back? I gave you the money." "No, I haven't," I admit. "But how can I switch back now anyway? Everyone knows me as Kelly around campus now. And they like how I dress. *I* like how I dress. I get all sorts of compliments." "Well then, start dressing as a man just around the house." Morgen indicates the house dress I'm wearing, which is a belted shirtwaist dress with wide brown and tan vertical stripes, half-length sleeves, and just above the knee. "You mean, when doing housework?" I fidget. "I mean, I really feel like I should wear *something* nice when I do housework, also, what would we tell Mr. Feyla? I'll need to dress up for him, right? I mean, I know he's expecting it. I suppose I could switch to men's clothes for an hour or two in the afternoon if he's going to be home late and I don't have any housework..." "You're hopeless," Morgen shakes her head. "Maybe I should look at what's happening down there, to see what is going on?" "Oh, yes, thank you!" I say, feeling a wave of relief and gratitude. "Yes, that's exactly what I need." Morgen cluck-clucks and rolls her eyes as I pull down my pantyhose and slip off the tight panty girdle and panties. "Girdles, why do you keep wearing girdles?" "Shush. I like wearing girdles. They make me feel all put together, like I can take on the world." Morgen makes me pull up my skirts and lie down on her bed. Once situated, she nestles between my legs and starts her inspection. "Yup, that's a pussy alright," she says. "Well, not a *real* pussy, of course." "Sure, if that's what you want to think. I don't see much wetness, though. Let's test it." "What do you mean-- Oh!" I squirm as she licks the head of the bump which is the head of my penis, just sticking out of the top of the cleft. "How is that?" Morgen asks, slyly, as she presses her lips more firmly around my little love button, gently sucking it and working the tip of her tongue between it and the folds which are around it. "Oh, Morgen!" I gasp, grasping handfuls of her comforter and tensing my body under her onslaught. "You are such a randy slut," Morgen says, continuing to kiss and lick my little nubbin. "Please... oh god... please..." I whimper, not even knowing exactly what I'm asking for. But then she stops. "Hey!" "All nice and warmed up now? Okay, let's see if you're wet like you say you get." Morgen parts my lips down there with her fingers and gently probes. "Oh my goodness, you *are* wet!" She says, astonished. I think that, despite her magical explanations, even she was surprised at this new development. "You're practically dripping!" Morgen holds up a finger covered in my secretions to show me, then she sniffs it and then sucks it into her mouth. "Mmmm..." she says. "Like buttered rolls. Yummy." "Oh my god, MORGEN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??" "Just licking you," Morgens says, her mouth doing devilish things down there. This time using long strokes, trying to scoop up as much of my wetness onto her tongue as possible. "This is really, really delicious. I could become addicted to this." "Because, shouldn't you, I mean... oh... oh..." But then she stops again. "HEY!" "There's a... Well... an *orifice* down here." "I know. It's always been there, but I think it's actually getting deeper... and maybe... bigger?" "Let's check it out!" "No! I don't think... unh.... that's a good... hey!" But Morgen is already probing with her finger into the 'indentation' which had been formed. And OH GOD, that feels good! "It's pretty deep," she observes. "I can get my whole finger inside." I can feel her finger thrusting inside of me, massaging the walls of whatever it is... the hole... the orifice, I guess... deep between my legs. "Please, Morgen," I beg, feeling funny inside. Feeling like this is going too far and that perhaps these sensations are not right for me to be having. "Please...." To my relief, Morgen pulls out and sucks her finger, grinning at me. "Such a fine, fine taste you are," she says. "Mmmm, mm! Delicious. But seriously, There's something more I want to try." "I think that's quite enough, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT??" From her nightstand, Morgen pulls out a long, oblong plastic... thing. It's smooth and made of beige plastic. It seems to be about the same length and width of... a... "No!" I shout, pulling up my legs. "No!!" "Kelly!" Morgen says. "It's just an experiment. To see how deep you are. Now..." she pulls my legs back down until I am spread and open to her probing, "just stay still." "What IS that??" "Oh honey, this is a vibrator. It's the housewife's secret weapon." "But surely, you don't intend to... I mean... that can't possibly..." But already Kelly is using it to probe my orifice, and the feeling of being penetrated by something so large touches something deep in my soul and I feel myself just open up to her. I let out a keening wail of pleasure. "That's my girl," Morgen says, as she works the evil device into me. "Wow, look how wet you are now!" She takes some of my moisture with a finger and spreads it over my nubbin of a penis, working it around while simultaneously thrusting the vibrator deeper and deeper into my nether regions. "Wow," she remarks. "I can get it over half-way in!" "Please, Morgen!" I feel tears dripping down my face now. "Please..." I whimper. Oh god, I am so horny, I just want to have some release! "Well, okay," Morgen says, finally. "They call this a vibrator for a reason, you know." Morgen turns a dial at the base of the vibrator and it hums to life and just as it does, I am hit with a massive orgasm, screaming "Oh fuck!" and "oh my god" at the top of my lungs. "Oh yeah," Morgen says, wickedly. "That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, you like it!" "Oh god... oh god..." I gasp, trying to catch my breath as I slowly come down from a place of pleasure so extreme I would have said it required LSD or divine intervention (or magic) had I not experienced it myself. "Holy fuck." * * * It's the day of the concert, Saturday, and after breakfast and some light housework I decide to treat myself to a visit to the beauty salon. Of course Janice is there, all smiles, and she happily agrees to give me a "touch up" on my hair. She also trims my eye brows some more (sigh). "What's the occasion?" "We're going out to dinner and a concert," I smile happily. "Oh, so it's a *date*!" "No! It is NOT a date! I'll be going with Mr. Feyla and his daughter Morgen." "Sounds like a date to me," Janice teases. "Kelly's going on a da-ate! Kelly's going on a date!" "Stop that!" I whine, but somehow pleased with the teasing all the same. "It is not a date. It's just dinner and a concert." "Between a man and a woman." "And his daughter!" I point out. "Who is older than I am." "So you have a thing for older men?" Janice asks. "Janice! Stop!" I am blushing. "Hey, I don't judge. Well, since this is a 'it's-not-a-date' date, I want to do two more things for you." "What two things?" "Pierced ears and long nails," she says. "Oh." I think about this. It's not the pain I'm worried about, it's the slippery slope of becoming even more feminine. Are these the sorts of experiences that Morgen warned me about? But then, after this weekend, I'm going back to being a man full time, right? And then that will reverse everything - or at least that's what Morgen said should happen. "Okay, I'll do it." "That's my girl!" Janice claps. She immediately calls over Betty and like before I have two industrious technicians working on my nails. "They're so long!" I exclaim, once they're done. Long and beautiful and red and oh so feminine. "Careful! They're still wet!" I feel something inside of me twist up a little just looking at them. Long nails. I'll need to re-learn how to do just about everything, I realize. Like using a pen, or how to sew, or fasten buttons... "Now, Kelly, I don't want you to freak out on me, okay? But Mrs. Feyla actually picked out a pair of earrings for you." "What? No way! It's not possible!" "You say that a lot, don't you? All I know is that Mrs. Feyla told me that whenever the person who uses the coupon book comes in, that she should wear these new earrings. But you didn't have pierced ears when you were here last time, and your first set of earrings need surgical posts. So... I went to a jeweler, and... here they are!" Janice holds out a velvet covered box. "Oh my gosh," I put hand over my mouth. The box contains a beautiful pair of diamond solitaires. "But they can't possibly be..." "Yes, they're real. And of the best possible quality," Janice confirms. "Mrs. Feyla gave these to you? But... that's impossible!" "And yet, here they are. So what do you say?" "I..." Of course, there's no way that Mrs. Feyla picked out these earrings for me. Maybe she gave them to Janice and then Janice decided on her own to give them on to me? But then why would Janice give up such beautiful and obviously expensive earrings? Given to her by her best friend? Is it possible that Mrs. Feyla actually intended for me to wear them? Was she really that eccentric? I imagine myself wearing a pair of sparkly diamond earrings, catching the light of the concert hall. The image gives me tingles. It will only be for this weekend, I rationalize. And then I can take them off when I return to being a man. So does it matter if I get piercings so I can wear some pretty earrings just for this weekend? Is that so terrible? "Okay," I say. "Lets do it!" * * * When I get home, of course Morgen is thrilled about my new nails and earrings. "So perfect!" she says. "And those are Mom's, right? From the Beauty Salon lady? You look amazing! I bet you'll just love wearing earrings. I bet you'll want to wear them all the time." "But... I'm only wearing them for this weekend," I explained. "And then I'm switching back to being a man on Monday. Right?" "Oh, sure," she says. "Hey, I have an idea." Morgen drags me to the master bedroom. "Try this on," Morgen says, handing me a slim box, "Morgen! I can't wear this!" I say, shocked. The box contains a gorgeous diamond tennis bracelet. "This is much too expensive!" "Why not?" Morgen says. "It goes with those earrings. They're a matched set. Go ahead and try it on." I protest some more, but Morgen insists that I at least see what they look like together. I slip on the tennis bracelet and snap together the clasp and then flip on the safety. I hold it up to the mirror. "Okay," I admit. "That's fabulous." "See? What did I tell you?" "But Morgen! This is... it's really..." I try and put into words what I'm feeling. It's something like getting further and further into debt and worrying that there's no way out. "It's too much." "Psh. It's not. It's just a loner for the concert tonight. So just shut up and wear it." * * * After a nap and a shower (using my plastic shower cap), I am ready to get dressed for dinner. First panties and my long-line, strapless bra. After fastening the nine (!) hooks, it takes some adjusting before it feels comfortable and supportive. But wow, what a piece of modern garment construction! It would make NASA proud. Before I put on the girdle, I put on a paisley silk robe and pad to bathroom where I sit to do my business. But nothing comes out! I feel the need, but it's just not happening. What's wrong? I inspect the folds 'down there', which are moist and generally more sensitive than I remember. The nub which is my penis seems to have shrunk even further. It's as small as the tip of my little finger now. Is that the problem? I use my fingers to spread the lips a little, to get a better view-- "Oh!" My flow starts, but it's from someplace new! I hold it back, and then start it up again. Oh god... it's coming out from someplace inside the cleft... from between the puffy lips which are down there now! What the fuck?? I sit down and let it flow. For now, I'm just relieved that I am able to urinate. I guess this means I'll have to sit down to go to the bathroom from now on. Of course I had been anyway, ever since I started wearing girdles, but still - something about its being a requirement, about not having a choice - but it rattles me. I'm urinating like a woman. More than anything, this is proof positive that deep changes are occurring. As if my shrinking penis was not bad enough, now this? Maybe it really *is* magic? Is that possible? Could magic be responsible for this? But what else could it be? * * * Back in the bedroom, I am shaking, freaked out by what just happened. "I just have to get through this evening," I counsel myself, trying to calm down. "Get through this evening, don't do anything feminine, especially don't go kissing anyone, and then Monday, change back to being a man!" I step into my open girdle and slip it up and over my bottom, which seems just a bit curvier than before. Just having the girdle on makes me feel better. Calmer. More ready to take on the world. The girdle helps especially because my whole body seems more curvy now. Of course I love it, but it does seem to draw a lot more stares wherever I go. I roll up the stockings on my legs and attach them to the garter tabs hanging from the girdle. The stockings are special and trimmed in delicate lace at the top. Morgen chose them because you'll be able to see them at the very top of the slit of the gown as I walk or sit. The thought of that lace peaking out makes me shiver. I sit at my desk with a hand mirror (oh, how much nicer it would be if I could just do this at the Mrs. Feyla's dressing table, I think wistfully) and apply my makeup. I use the new techniques for 'date night makeup' which Janice taught me just this morning and I am pleased with the results. My eyes are bright and defined. My skin is smooth with just a barest hint of blush. It looks so elegant! I finish it off with lip liner and lipstick, my lips a sexy dusky red color with lip gloss to make them shiny and kissable. No, NOT kissable, I remind myself. NO kissing! I tidy up my hair a bit and when I check myself in the mirror, I am stunned. I look so beautiful! Like an all-American girl coming out of her shell and stepping out for an evening. "Need some help getting into your dress?" Morgen enters the room. "Oh, sweetie!" She gasps as I turn to face her. "You look so beautiful!" "Thanks," I say, eyes downcast and blushing under her praise. "And, oh god, definitely do that tonight." "Do what?" "You know. Be all shy and coy. Men love that." "But what do I care what men like?" "Oh, right. Of course." "And Morgen, there's something wrong!" "What?" "I... my..." I'm embarrassed to be talking about it. "I no longer pee in the same way," I whisper. "SERIOUSLY?" "Yes! I just went to the bathroom, and... and... it's coming out of some different place! Some place lower." "You mean... like where a woman pees?" "Please, don't tease me! I'm freaked out enough as is." "I'm not teasing you! Do you believe in magic now?" "I... I..." I stumble, not knowing what to say. "So maybe you *do* believe in magic?" "I don't know! Please, Morgen, stop! You'll make me cry and then I'll ruin my makeup and I just took all this time to make it perfect." "I'm sorry," Morgen says, giving me a hug. "Oh, honey, I truly am sorry. Don't worry about your... uh... new issue. Let's just put it out of our mind until tomorrow, okay? Now is not the time. Let's worry about it later." "Okay," I say, feeling shaky all of a sudden. "I guess that makes sense." "Yes, it does. So do you need help with the dress?" "Yes, please." Morgen fetches the dress from the coat rack and I carefully step into it, making sure to protect my makeup and hair and not step on the dress itself. Once I'm inside, Morgen pulls it up over my arms and helps me to zip it up. It's a side zipper which ends underneath one arm. I put on the tennis bracelet. Morgen fetches my (dyed satin) pumps and I step into them (grasping her shoulder for support). "So beautiful!" Morgen says, holding me at arm's length. "But two things are missing." "What could possibly be missing?" "First, perfume." She hands me a beautiful curved and twisting glass bottle with a cork stopper. "Love potion." The writing etched into the glass is a graceful, curly script. "Not actually a love potion, is it?" "I don't know," Morgen shrugs. "It might be. Mom gave it to me and gave me explicit instructions on when to use it." "What instructions?" "Never you mind. Now let's dab some of this on your wrists -- rub them together -- and then behind each ear. Okay, wonderful." "Oh, that's such a romantic scent," I say. It is a scent of roses, jasmine and other more subtle notes which remind me of linen and clean laundry and something deep underneath which I can't recognize but which makes me tingle. "Yes, it's her own formula. I think it starts with Chanel Number 5." "It's wonderful." "I thought you might like it. Now here," Morgen picks up a silver lam? clutch. "It has makeup for touch ups, plus tissues. Just in case. And now you're ready to go!" "Thank you," I say with gratitude. "But you better hurry and get ready too, or we'll be late!" Morgen opens the door and reaches for my hand. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm not going." "WHAT??" I jerk my hand away and back up, into the bedroom. "NO! You have to go! That was the agreement. That we were all going to go to dinner and a concert together!" "Kelly, I made no such agreement! And I have a paper due on Monday and I don't have time to go to the concert. I'm sorry." "But... but..." suddenly I feel like I'm about to break into tears again. "But you can't leave me," I whine. "Please, Morgen!" "Oh, Kelly, you'll be fine without me," Morgen pulls me into a hug, careful to not muss up my hair or makeup. "Ssshhh, it will be okay. Just go out and enjoy yourself and behave, okay?" "But... but..." I try to protest as Morgen grasps me by the hand and walks me out to the kitchen. In my heels, I have no choice but to follow her. "All set to go?" Mr. Feyla hops up from the kitchen chair. "Kelly! You look amazing!!" I blush under Mr. Feyla's praise and mutter a 'thank you', my eyes lowered. Then I mentally kick myself. I wasn't supposed to be acting shy and coy! I look up and into his eyes, and see him staring at me, practically agog. "That dress.... and that scent," he says, talking as if he's in a trance. "Oh... Kelly..." "I made her borrow Mom's tennis bracelet," Morgen explained. "I hope that's okay." "Of course! Absolutely..." but Mr. Feyla continues to stare at me. This continues until Morgen goes and fetches a fur jacket from the front hall closet. She holds it open and I slip it on. It's soft and sensuous and lined with silk. "Okay, now you two kids, you be careful, okay?" Morgen opens the kitchen door and gently leads us to the car which is freshly washed and waiting. "And call me if you're going to be late so I won't worry." "Thank you, Morgen," Mr. Feyla opens the car door for me. I step into the passenger seat (feeling distinctly 'taken care of' by having a man open the door for me) and look out the window beseechingly at Morgen, hoping that she'll change her mind and decide to join us. But then Mr. Feyla gets in the driver's seat, starts up the car, and backs out the driveway. And now I am on a date with a man. * * * "Please, call me Richard." "Okay... Richard," I look over at him wondering ON MY GOD? HOW DID I GET MYSELF INTO THIS? I am fuming at Morgen. How could she have done this to me? What is she up to? "Are you okay?" Richard asks. "Yes," I sigh. "I wish Morgen could have joined us." "I understand," he says. "It's a shame. I know how much she likes Leonard Bernstein," Richard adds, completely misunderstanding my concern. Men are so clueless! I could care less that Morgen is missing Leonard Bernstein. I want her to be here to chaperone me and Richard! And now that we're alone, I'm freaking out about what's going to happen. All week I've been half-day-dreaming about him. And now here we are, in a car... alone... together. It's as bad as horny teenagers on an overnight ski trip. 'Just don't kiss him. Just don't kiss him,' I tell myself over and over. I need a diversion. Think, Kelly! "How is the merger going?" I ask. "Oh, there have been some very interesting developments!" Richard says, and then launches into a lengthy discussion of executive compensation, hold backs, sunset clauses and this brand new thing they just invented called "golden handcuffs". Fortunately, this discussion is more than enough to last all the way to Manhattan (through the Lincoln Tunnel). I stare, amazed, at how tall all of the buildings are. Already I am impressed with how Richard was able to navigate the streets like a taxi driver. We arrive at the restaurant where Richard gives the car to valet. "Is this your first time at The Four Seasons?" Richard places a hand on the small of my back as he opens the door for me and we step into the foyer. Just feeling his hand there gives me goosebumps. Worse, I'm feeling a little damp... 'down there'. Oh Morgen! Why did you have to stay home?? "Well, since I've never even been to New York City before," I say, "that would be 'yes'." "Picasso," Richard nods at an amazing tapestry hanging in the foyer. "For real?" I gawk at the enormous, two story canvas. "That is far out!" "That's nothing," Richard is clearly enjoying himself. He gently guides me to the left, his hand still on my back, giving me tingles. "Just wait'll you see the restaurant proper." "Oh my goodness..." I catch my breath as the main dining room reveals itself. It's a gorgeous, tall, elegant, chic space unlike any interior I have ever seen. There are four large Christmas trees, each twenty feet tall, surrounding a large square white-marble pool with small dome-shaped fountains. The walls are covered with large, honey colored paneling, the wood grain making beautiful abstract patterns. On one side hangs an enormous painting of modern art. White marble tables with shiny chrome legs surrounded by black modern leather chairs and sofa banquettes are arranged as if Mondrian had planned it all. "Beautiful, isn't it?" "I... it's... oh gosh..." is all I can manage. "It's stunning." "It was designed by Mies van der Rohe. That's a Jackson Pollack over there. I heard it was just sold to an Australian museum for over a million dollars." "A million dollars for a painting??" "Well, it is a really big painting," Richard teases. "Mr. Feyla, it's a pleasure to see you again. It has been a while." "Thank you Felipe." "And who is this charming young lady?" "This charming young lady is Kelly Marshal. She's my..." Richard looks at me with a mischievous grin, "... my date." Hearing the word 'date' sends a pulse through my body. I feel like I can barely breath. "Well, it is a pleasure to have you back, Mr. Feyla. We have reserved your standard table. It's this way." "The Maitre'd of the Four Seasons Restaurant knows you?" I ask in hushed tones, awed. "Felipe? Oh sure. I used to eat here all the time. You know, entertaining clients. And this was..." Richard got that clenched look again. "... this was Miriam's... uh... Mrs. Feyla's favorite restaurant. So we came here a lot." We are led down into the center dining area by the maitre'd to a table facing the pool. As I descend the wide stairs, I look up and see people staring at me. I grasp Richard's arm for protection. "Are you okay?" he looks at me with concern. "Yes..." The impact of what I am doing suddenly floods over me. Here I am, a man, wearing this beautiful coral Bill Blass dress with matching satin heels, adorned with diamond solitaire earrings and a diamond tennis bracelet, gorgeous hair and makeup (thank you, Janice!), stepping down the stairs of The Four Seasons restaurant with all of New York's social elite examining me. I grasp Richard's arm even tighter. He places a hand on mine as we walk across the floor. "Is that... no it can't be...?" Richard looks over. "Oh hey, it's Jackie Onassis and her son, John John. And if I'm not mistaken, they're with Wallace Shawn." "Wallace Shawn?" "The editor of The New Yorker. Oh Kelly, you're shaking!" The Maitre'd has led us to a banquette facing the pool. A waiter rushes over and pulls out the table so we have more room to sit down, but suddenly I panic, frozen to the spot. "Richard," I say, my voice quavering. "I... I..." "What is it?" "I can't do this," I whisper urgently. "Can't do what?" Richard teases. "Eat dinner in a restaurant?" "Richard, please!" I begin to shake. "Look at all these people staring at me! I'm not like them! I'm just a physics major from some podunk town in the Midwest. I don't belong here!" "Listen to me, young lady," Richard says with a fierceness that shocks me. "The only reason why they're staring is because you are beautiful. No scratch that, you are *gorgeous* and you are young. All the men want to be me and all of the women want to be you. And listen carefully, you are kind and humble and caring and about ninety times smarter than everyone here. You deserve to be here more than all of these pretenders, and I for one would not share this evening with anyone else, not even Jackie Onassis or the Queen of England, for all of the money in the world." "Are you sure?" I squeak, desperately trying not to tear up because I know that will ruin my makeup. "I have never been more sure of anything in my life." "Thank you," I say. And then, on impulse, I lean forward and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Oh no!" I hold a hand over my mouth. Damn it, I kissed him! And I wasn't supposed to kiss him! "I'm so sorry!" I say. "Why are you sorry?" Richard laughs, his eyes full of delight, fetching a handkerchief to wipe the lipstick off his cheek. "Shall we sit down and enjoy our dinner?" "Yes, please." I nod to the waiter and we both sit, side by side, looking out over the beautiful restaurant, as the waiter slides the table back into place. I look up at Richard and grasp his hand under the table. * * * Dinner, of course, is amazing. Blinis with caviar, a lobster ragout on a pastry shell, venison chop, winter greens with Confit d'Oie (whatever the heck that is). It's the "winter menu". I had never heard of a restaurant having a "seasonal menu" before, and it makes so much sense. Our conversation is effortless and wonderful. We discuss finance, Middle East peace, Nixon's visit to China, Skylab, and quantum mechanics interpretations (which, Richard admitted he would never be able to understand). "But please keep trying to explain it," he insists. And of course we talk about Morgen. Lots of talking about Morgen. I try my best to explain his daughter to him, trying to avoid sensitive topics, like how she and I had sex all those times. But it's weird sitting right next to this older man. His leg touches mine, and when we turn to look at each other, he's so close! I can see his beard stubble and the cute crinkles at the corner of his eyes just starting to form. Several times during the dinner he leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. And each time I get this weird little flutter inside, like a hummingbird taking flight, and a warm flush travels over me, making me light headed. At some point I see him looking down. I follow his eyes and see that the side slit on my dress has gapped open, the dress slipping aside and exposing my entire leg with the lacy stocking top and garter tabs. Embarrassed, I reach down and straighten my stockings, make sure they are nice and smooth, and then I adjust the dress to cover my leg back up. Looking up, I see that Richard has watched this little ritual with rapt attention. And so, to tease him, I slowly pull aside the dress, revealing my stocking tops again and then I look up and give him a coy little smile. And then I make a great show of adjusting the tops of my stockings again, for the second time, even though they don't need it (they really didn't need it the first time either). And he looks back with wide eyes and is literally panting with desire. "Oh, you are so adorable," I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek and covering myself back up. Richard just looks back at me with a wolffish grin, his eyes twinkling with delight. Twinkles! I finally know what twinkling is! But then I snap out of it and I wonder, what the heck am I doing? I am being coy and teasing TO A MAN? And for what purpose? There was no way anything was going to happen. No way in heaven or hell! But here I am playing with my stocking tops knowing full well that he's watching. What is wrong with me?? * * * We settle down in our (box!) seats and the orchestra is burbling below, waiting for the concertmaster to tune up. "Dick! Where have you been?" "Hey James. Carolyn. Allow me to introduce you to Kelly." James is a bulk of a man and I feel like my small feminine hand is swallowed up in his when we shake. Carolyn is a sharp-looking New York business woman type who smiles at me in a weird way that makes me uncomfortable. "The box has felt empty without you," Carolyn said, with surprising warmth. "We're so glad you're back." "Yes, well..." Richard struggles for the right words. "I hadn't felt much like being in public... until recently." They all look at me and like a deer caught in the headlights I just stare back, not knowing what to say. Fortunately, I am saved by applause as the concertmaster steps on stage to tune up the orchestra. And then, there he is. Leonard Bernstein, striding confidently to the podium, tousled hair and chiseled jaw and (yes) a twinkle in his eye of something glorious to come. Oh, these dashing, confident, strident American men of the 1960s working to change the world! Bernstein, Kennedy, Chomsky, Fuller, King, Rothko, Feynman... As I look over at Richard, I see a man, younger, of course, but of the same cut. Smart, decisive, confident and full of the promise and life of America. And of course the music is amazing. This is my first time visiting a concert hall, and I can't believe how I am surrounded by music and lifted into new and previously unimaginable places of beauty. "It's Siegfried Idyll," Richard whispers. "Wagner wrote it for his wife as a birthday present after the birth of their first son." "It's so romantic!" I whisper back, still looking at the orchestra where Bernstein is caught up in the throes of this heart achingly beautiful love music. I feel Richard grasp my hand and as I look over I see he has tears in his eyes. Richard looks at me and smiles and just then... ...something happens. I don't even know what it is, but I can tell that something is different. Better. I see it in his face. I see it in his posture. He unclenches. Richard takes a deep breath... and smiles. "Thank you," he mouths to me, grasping my hand tight for a moment and kissing it. "Thank you for everything." * * * After the concert we catch a taxi back to The Four Seasons and have desert and Champagne cocktails at the bar (also an amazing work of art) before heading home. As we're waiting for the valet, me wearing the fur jacket over the long silk coral gown, standing in heels on the sidewalk, I feel Richard's hand around my waist, sensuously caressing me through the silk. And then it drops slightly and I feel him copping a feel on my bottom! Oh gosh! The dampness between my legs instantly turns into a swamp. I snuggle closer into his side and look up, smiling, which I realize too late has just emboldened him further to become even more aggressive, squeezing and cupping my curves with his large hands. Oh god... I feel my toes curl and my nipples tingle. Oh dear... Thank god, the car arrives. The ride home is quiet. Both of us are lost in our thoughts. This time it's me who reaches over and grasps Richard's hand. We pull off I-95 and head back to our sleepy little college town, now all buttoned up for the night. My fingers trace over his knuckles. How defined and strong they are. A little tingle of dangerous excitement is coursing through me and as much as I want to tamp it down, at the same time I want to let it fly. We pull into the driveway and Richard turns off the car. I look over at him, my breasts gently heaving as I breath, the fur coat open and framing my body. "Thank you for an amazing evening," Richard says, sincerely. "I haven't felt this way since--" I stop him by placing a finger gently on his lips. And then I lean close, and he leans close, and we're both looking each other directly in the eyes, and slowly we drift closer... closer... And we're kissing. Vaguely I remember that I wasn't supposed to do this. Didn't Morgen warn me not to go around kissing men? I might be stuck, she said. I might never be able to reverse the changes and return to being a man. But right now, right this second, there is nothing I want more than to kiss this amazing man in the car beside me. Richard slips a hand into the fur coat and caresses my side, pulling me in close, as our kiss gets deeper and warmer, tongues and lips and sand-papery male skin. I stroke his neck and run my hands through his hair. Boldly, he places a hand on my breast, and I breath "Yes, *please*," before returning to our kiss. We continue like that for what seems like hours, kissing and stroking and holding each other and lost in the smells of men and women and makeup and clothes and perfume... Perfume... It surrounds us and draws us together... you don't suppose? The perfume....? But by now I don't care anymore. Magic perfume, magic salve, cursed panties, magic bras, sorcery, instructions left from beyond the grave to beauty salon stylists - I can feel changes inside me, both physical and emotional. I can feel it... my changes are irreversible now. I have crossed the threshold and there is no going back - but none of it matters anymore because I am home, where I should be. Who cares why? Who cares the reason? None of that matters. All that matters is that I am happy and warm (and horny) in Richard's arms and in Richard's lips and I don't want to be anywhere else in the world right this moment. "Shall we...?" Richard asks, breaking the kiss. I hear the implied question, and I nod, shyly. And so Richard gets out and then comes around and opens the door for me, and I accept his hand as I step out on my high heels, feeling a bit unsteady and in a fog (all those Champagne cocktails!). We walk carefully to the kitchen door and open it quietly, like guilty teenagers. I take off my heels before we step into the kitchen. Looking down the hallway, I see Morgen's room and the light is out. Has she gone to bed early? I hear gentle snoring. She must be asleep. On tiptoe, I follow Richard into the master bedroom which accepts us like a warm hug as Richard softly closes the door and then turns on the nightstand lamp which casts a warm glow over the bed. His bed. His marriage bed. Mr. and Mrs. Feyla's bed, where they slept as a married couple for all those years, raising Morgen. "It's okay," Richard whispers, pulling me into hug and giving me a light kiss on the lips, sensing my hesitation. He helps me out of the fur jacket and drapes it on the reading chair. We kiss and hug some more, and now I feel something more. Something pressing against me. I unzip the side of my dress, pull the neckline over my head and step out of it, tossing it on the chair over the fur jacket. "Oh, Kelly..." he growls. Looking at me with hungry eyes. I am now standing before Richard in bra, panties and girdle with stockings. I imagine how I must look, so feminine, so vulnerable. Richard loosens his tie and takes off his shirt and undershirt and then we are hugging again, his naked palms on my back. He has curly chest hair that I run my fingers through before looking up at him and getting another kiss. Staring into each other's eyes, an unspoken signal passes between us. I unhook the garters and slip off my girdle and stockings as he removes his shoes and socks and takes off his pants (he wears boxers). Again we hug, this time his hands on my panty bottom. I feel his member on my stomach, more defined now. Its urgent need is clearly apparent now. Of course I am no better, the dampness between in my crotch is so bad I can feel it dripping down my leg. Richard leads me to the bed, but before I slip under the covers, I reach behind my back and unhook the bra (this takes a while), letting it fall the floor before we slip in together, my naked breasts pressing against his naked chest as we fondle each other and kiss some more. "Oh, Kelly," he breaths, reaching down and removing his boxers. For the first time in my life, I feel another man's naked body and hard, naked manhood as we press against each other. I fondle and grope him for a while, and then, desperately wanting it, I move my hands to his front and hold his hardness, and oh-god... It feels so good in my hands. So warm and alive and I hear Richard sucking in his breath as I stroke it and play with it. It's only when I feel his fingers slip into my panties and start to run between my cheeks that I begin to worry. What if I haven't changed enough? What will happen? What should I do? Should I try something else? Should I stop this? Should I tell Richard that I want to wait? But already Richard has pushed my panties down my legs and in a deft move they are completely off and I am naked... in bed... with a man! He hugs me one more time, his hard naked penis pressed against my stomach... now so close, and we kiss some more, my nipples tingling and suddenly I realize... It's perfectly, absolutely clear... I am ready. I lay back and slightly spread my legs and Richard takes the hint. Oh god, he rubs the tip of his cock up and down my lips down there, lubricating it, and this stroking of my... clitoris...? Almost makes me lose it right then and there. And then he places the tip at the entrance to my... my vagina? My... pussy? My... feminine spot...? Rubs it up and down some more, and then slowly... slowly... pushes it in. Lubricated womanly flesh is slowly forced to part. I gasp and clutch on to him. Oh my god, he's so big and I feel so small... do all women feel this way? Richard slowly thrusts himself forward about half way, I can feel my body clutching his manhood, and then pulls back, and I can tell he's going slow to help me adjust and I am so grateful and thankful to have such a considerate partner for my first time! Finally, after a few more motions, Richard pushes forward until he feels some resistance, and then he looks at me, and we both know what this means. I hang there for a second, feeling his cock in me, it feels big, it feels alive, it feels like it is claiming me... conquering me... Richard waits and looks at me, and my nipples are tingling and I am panting... Wanting more. And so I take a deep breath and look into his eyes and nod, and with a strong thrust, Richard pushes himself all the way to the hilt. I gasp and whimper and clutch him, tears springing to my eyes and we both know it immediately. I am no longer a virgin. I have been deflowered. I have surrendered myself to a man, and he has taken me, body and soul, and now I am his. His woman. His in every way. Forever. * * * Chapter 8: The next day I wake up the next morning disoriented and confused. What happened last night? Did I? Did he? DID WE??? I sit up all of sudden and look around. I am alone in bed. Where is Mr. Feyla? WHERE IS RICHARD? "Richard?" I call out softly. Maybe he's in the master bathroom? "Richard?" I call out a bit louder. I look around. There's makeup on the pillow, and soiled splotches on the sheets. Ugh. I'm going to have to do laundry later. I look closer. Is that... blood?? Did he... did I...?? I begin to shake. Oh my god, I lost my virginity to Mr. Feyla... and Morgen said I shouldn't do anything that made me more feminine, that I shouldn't even kiss him!! But now I've... oh god... I've submitted to him... that way... the ultimate surrender... of a woman to a man...! "RICHARD?" I call out more urgently. "I need you!!" I get up and suddenly realize I'm fully naked. Didn't I even put on a nightgown last night? Shame floods over me. What must he think of me? And where is he?? I find my panties and bra and put those on, and then peak out into the kitchen. "Richard?" The kitchen is empty. Stepping quickly, I dart into my room where I find my standard yellow gingham shirtwaist dress which I put on. I go to the living room, and then to Richard's den. "Richard?" Where is he??? I look out the window to the driveway. The car is gone!! "Richard??" I sob, seeing that the car has disappeared. Is he so ashamed of me that he had to leave? Is he ever coming back?? I sit down at the kitchen table and hug myself. Richard... Richard... Richard... Has he left me? What if he has? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITHOUT HIM? Panicked, I run down the hall. "Morgen?" I ask, opening her door a crack. "In here!" I enter Morgen's room, feeling distraught. Morgen holds out her arms. She's wearing just a night shirt and panties. I join her in bed and clutch her fiercely, shaking with fright, on the edge of breaking into a million pieces. "Kelly? What's the matter! Kelly?" "I... I..." my words come out gasping. "Did something happen last night... with my Dad?" I nod. "Did you... did you KISS him??" "I... No... I mean, yes... but... it's..." "Oh Kelly! Didn't I tell you not to kiss him? Didn't I say that you shouldn't do that if you wanted your changes to reverse? Wait.... Did you do something *more*?? Kelly, you didn't let him... Did he... you didn't let him... touch your... private bits?" I shrug and nod. "But... I mean... not just... that... there was... I mean... we... last night..." "NO!!" Morgen gasps. "Kelly... are you saying that... That you and Dad... YOU HAD SEX WITH HIM?" "YES!" I burst into tears. "Oh sweetie, oh honey..." Morgan says, hugging me over and over. "I am *so sorry*! I... I had no idea. If I had known..." "Oh, Morgen," I gulp a couple of times. "I knew what I was getting into. You warned me. I knew what I was doing. I'm a grown boy. Girl. Woman! Whatever the hell I am! And last night..." I hug myself with the memory. "It was so amazing. I mean, your Dad is just incredible. I think he... I mean, I actually think I'm..." I want to say the words, but I can't. "But now he's gone!" "What do you mean, he's gone?" "I woke up this morning, and the bed is empty. And the car is gone!" "WHAT? The car is gone??" "Yes, it's gone! He's left me!!" "I'm sure... I mean... There's just no way he would... Wait... are you saying that, you..." Morgen holds me at arm's length and looks me in the face. "That you... I mean, do you... have feelings for my Dad??" I look away, ashamed. "Kelly! Look at me! Do you have feelings for my father?" I examine my feelings and then take some deep breaths. I look Morgen in the eye. "Yes," I admit. "I... I love him." "Oh god," Morgen says, shocked, covering her mouth. "Oh, but that's wonderful!" "But it makes no sense!" I cry. "Why? Please tell me why? Why do I feel this way about him? How is it possible? And after so short a time? I... I..." My breathing is heavy, I'm just barely able to contain myself. "He's so much older than I am! Almost 20 years older! And he's a man. But my feelings about him are... so intense. So strong. I feel like... like... like I would die rather than to leave him for even one second. But why? What is wrong with me? This is... this is insanity. I must be insane!" "You're not." "I must be crazy. It must be a chemical imbalance of some sort. Isn't there something in those psychological journals you're always reading?" I run over to the stack of journals in the corner. Frustrated, I frantically snatch at the journals, flipping through the pages, trying to find some description of whatever it is that I'm afflicted with. "Please... there has to be something in here. THERE HAS TO BE SOME REASON!!!" "Kelly... stop. I keep telling you. It's magic." "STOP SAYING THAT!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "There is no such thing as MAGIC! It does NOT exist." I push all of the psychology journals to the floor and start roughly pawing through them, on my knees, desperate to find the article which talks about what I have. "Your dress." I look down. It's an ordinary yellow check shirtwaist dress. A very house-wifely dress which was almost the first dress I got from Morgen. The skirts go down to just above the knee, and the sleeves are long. It has a belt which nips in my waist a bit. I think the color is nice on me. "What about my dress?" I ask, quivering. "That dress is not new." "I know that. Of course I'm not expecting new clothes. Of course it's used." "Kelly, that's not the point. What's important is who used to wear that dress." "So? Who?" "My mother. Mrs. Feyla." "Mrs. Feyla... your mother. She used to own this dress?" "Yes. I took it out of her closet and gave it to you. It was one of her favorite house dresses. She used to wear it all the time." "What are you saying?" "What panties are you wearing?" "What do you mean? What does it matter what panties I'm wearing?" "Show me!" I lift the hem of my gingham dress and show Morgen my panties. "Those are the same as that very first pair you wore, aren't they?" "Yes, I think so..." "The pair which you first saw on in the kitchen. The pair which first entranced you into a world of femininity. They are magic, but as I said, the magic only works on someone who wants to wear them. A man who likes to wear panties. Remember? It was that pair of panties which started everything, wasn't it?" I look down. It is that pair. "Those were Mom's panties," Morgan continues. "Ever since the very beginning, Kelly, You've been wearing Mom's things. Her panties. her bras. Her girdles. Her dresses. Some of the items she never wore, the smaller bras, the schoolgirl skirts. She bought them for you to wear before she died." "So what? They're just clothes, right?" "Just clothes?" Morgen says, mockingly. "Wake up! You are wearing a dead woman's clothes. A dead woman who used to be a powerful sorceress! You are wearing the panties, the bra, the dress that Miriam Feyla, my mother, used to wear. These are the clothes that *Richard's dead wife* used to wear!" The way Morgen is talking, the clothes are starting to feel like they have a life of their own. Could it be true? "But Morgen," I protest, "I know all that. After all, you gave me lots of clothes directly from her dresser drawers and closet. I didn?t realize it was almost all of them... But so what? What are you trying to tell me?? ?Because it?s the clothes! It has always been the clothes. The more you wear them, the more they change you. These were my mother?s clothes, and they are changing you according to her final wishes. ** They are changing you to be her replacement ** ?Once you started wearing her clothes, you started doing the laundry... just like mom.? ?But... But... only because I need clean clothes. I mean, everyone does laundry.? ?But you are also doing my laundry, and Dad?s laundry. How many renters do their landlord?s laundry? Not many, I imagine. You strip our beds and clean our sheets and then make our beds again... just like Mom used to do.? ?Morgen, you?re being unfair! That?s only because I need the money.? ?Is it really? The house had never been cleaner and well tended. Not since....? She paused. ?...not since Mom was alive. And you?re making breakfast every morning, just like Mom. She was so old fashioned in a lot of ways, wanting to take care of her husband, and now you?re doing it. Just like she did.? ?But..? I sputter, ?I mean, I need breakfast too. And so do you. It?s the most important meal of the day. Isn?t that what everyone keeps saying?? ?And look at you,? Morgen drags me in front of her floor length mirror. ?You?re a beautiful young... *woman*. You?re buxom and pretty and soft and curvy and shy and humble. I know my father, I?ve seen what sorts of girls he?s attracted to, and I am here to tell you that you are *exactly* his type.? ?Oh, I bet there are lots of people who are his type.? ?Not really. He likes wide-eyed, vulnerable, American, wholesome and big breasted pretty young brunettes, just like you. Even more than a Mom, you are exactly his type.? ?But Morgen, why?? ?And now you?ve slept with him. Willingly, I presume? You... shared his marriage bed. You got undressed in the master bedroom, and then slipped into bed... just like Mom would have... and then did he... I mean... did he, uh, penetrate you?? I feel a shiver run through my body. ?Yes,? I whisper. ?So, you?ve changed down there too. You?ve fully changed. You are a woman, inside and out. Oh, sweetie, don?t you see now? The clothes, and the bed, and the linens, and the salve, and the perfume and the makeup and the bedroom and the closet... they have turned you into a mother and a wife. My mother and his wife. They have turned you into my Mom?s replacement! Mom wanted her husband to be taken care of, until the day he died. And that?s why you love my father so much, because all her clothes and everything she owned is imbued with her magic, fulfilling her final wish. Once you started living here, you were on a one way path to being a woman and a mother and a wife.? ?Stop it! Stop with your magic!? ?But that?s exactly what it is! Mom was a very magical being. She came from a long line of witches and sorceresses. Everything she touched became imbued with her essence, her mana. The longer she spent with something, the closer it was to her body, the more power it retained, until her clothes and her bed, her lingerie, her makeup, her jewelry... it was practically saturated with the power of her soul. And then when she died... she made, a wish. Or you could call it casting a spell, if you?d like. For her, they were one and the same. And because it was her dying wish, it became powerful and permanent.? ?And... What was her dying wish?? I ask, nervous. ?It was to have someone take care of her husband and her family,? Morgen says, simply. ?Forever. And for her husband to find someone perfect for him that he could love and who would love him with all her heart in return.? ?And that person.... that person is... meee?? I ask in a small voice. ?Yes,? Morgen says, pulling me into a hug. ?That person is you.? ?But then... if I?m supposedly perfect for Richard, if I am his intended mate... then WHERE IS HE??? Just then I hear the kitchen door opening. ?RICHARD!? I scream, running out of Morgen?s bedroom, into the kitchen and directly into his arms. ?Oh, dear! What?s the matter?? ?Where have you been?? I sob. ?I woke up this morning and you were gone and I thought you?d left me!? ?I?? ?Please,? I say, through my tears, ?it?s okay if... you know... we can?t be together. If you don?t want me,? I say through gasps and sobs, ?I?ll go and... and... find some other place to stay. Just tell me... I don?t want to be a burden .... I mean...? ?What are you saying, Kelly? I just went out to fetch some bagels and coffee.? I look over at the paper bag and coffee cups sitting on the kitchen table. ?Really?? I ask, looking up, hope piercing my heart, my face wet and pathetic. ?Really,? Richard says, looking into my eyes and pulling me into his arms. ?You don?t have to worry about me leaving you, Kelly. You will *never* have to worry about that. Not ever. Because.... I love you.? ?You do?? Oh, Richard! I love you too!? And Richard takes my head in his hands and turns me towards him and just like that we are kissing. I melt into his arms and it just seems to go on forever and forever. ?Ahem.? We break our kiss and look over at Morgen, who is shaking her head and rolling her eyes. ?Maybe Dad,? she says, ?next time leave a note if you head out and there?s a freshly deflowered virgin in your bed.? * * * ?I am Kelly. I am Kelly.? I tell myself. But still it is all just so unbelievable. I came to college to study physics and become a scientist and now I am a young woman. A young woman in love with an older man. ?I guess I?ll have to give up physics, now,? I say, sadly. Richard and I are in a local Italian restaurant eating dinner. I protested that I was more than capable of making dinner for everyone, and that I wanted to, but Richard insisted. ?Sundays are your day off,? he said, ushering me out the door. I look around nervously, still uncomfortable being out in public as a woman... with my new boyfriend. Did I just call Richard my *boyfriend*?? ?Why would you give up physics?? Richard asks. ?What do you mean? I have to take care of you and the house. And Morgen.? ?I still don?t see why that means you have to give up physics,? Richard shrugs. ?Because... it?s what Miriam wanted. She wanted someone to take care of the family, and here I am.? ?Miriam? What does she have to do with anything?? Richard looks at me like I?m crazy. ?This is you and me, Kelly. Miriam... bless her soul... she?s not here. You are. This is *your* life. You can make of it whatever you want.? ?Oh, darling, it?s okay. I really like my Family Studies classes now. Professor Chambers is amazing.? ?Then why don?t you double-major, if you like it so much?? ?But... how would I have enough time? I mean, think of all the classes I would have to take! And I need to take care of the house, and cook the meals...? ?Then maybe you don?t graduate in four years. Maybe it takes five or six. And we hire help for around the house. I had been thinking of doing that already. I *should* have done it months ago.? I look at Richard and his mischievous smile. ?Oh, but I don?t know...? I think about his suggestion. Would it really work? ?I mean... let someone else clean my home? Let someone else wash our clothes?? Richard reaches out and grasps my hands, and then places a light kiss on my wrist. ?Kelly,? he says, sincerely. ?You are a young girl... sorry! *woman*. You can be whoever you want to be. Don?t let Morgen and her stories or expectations hold you back. I love you and I want you to be happy.? ?Are you sure?? I ask, looking into his eyes. I feel myself falling even harder for this amazing man. ?Yes, I am sure,? he says. ?This is the 1970s. Women can do anything. If you want to study physics, then study physics! We?ll make it work. I promise you.? * * * Over the next couple of weeks, I try to get things back to normal. I go back to sleeping in the guest bedroom. Richard and Morgen are understanding and tell me to take all the time I need. The problem is, I?m a horny young woman who is in love and who can?t seem to help herself. I find myself constantly sneaking into Richard?s bed at night where we snuggle and have sex. And, oh god, sex is *incredible*. Having him on top of me and thrusting deep inside me is the most wonderful feeling in the world. Like being wrapped up in love and passion and letting go to your obsessions and addictions and deep (deep!) desires and then feeling happy and blissful afterwards. ?Are you using protection?? Morgen asks one morning. ?Protection?? ?Don?t play stupid with me, young lady. I know what you?re doing at night. I can hear it.? Morgen rolls her eyes. ?Are you using birth control? The pill. Condoms. A cup. Anything??? ?Umm....? ?Oh, Kelly!? Morgen gasps. ?It?s been, what, two weeks now? How many times have you had sex?? ?I don?t know...? I think back. ?Maybe a couple of dozen? Uh... maybe more?? Morgen slaps her head and looks at me, aghast. ?It?s my fault, I suppose,? she says. ?After all, what do you know about being a girl? That?s it. You are skipping your classes today and we are taking you to a doctor.? And so we both shower and I dress up in a turtleneck and plaid skirt and Morgen takes me to her OB-GYN, a nice man named ?Tom?. Tom gives me a full exam which includes putting me on an exam table, with stirrups and using a speculum to examine my vagina. I say a lot of ?oh!? and ?goodness!? and ?is that really necessary?? as he performs his exam. You learn a lot about your vagina when a man inserts and spreads it with a pair of big metal spoons! And not small tea spoons either, but big serving spoons. ?Everything looks perfectly normal,? he says, smiling, once the examination is done. Just hearing that I am ?normal? for a someone with a vagina is weird - but a relief as well. This is the first professional confirmation that I am now a woman - inside and out. ?Although... did someone lose her virginity recently?? I blush and look away. ?Yes, she did,? Morgan says, staring daggers at me. ?Well, nothing to worry about. Everything is healing perfectly well. Now, you say you also want a pregnancy test? About how long ago did you have intercourse?? I look over at Morgen and she looks back at me with a ?you started it, you have to answer for it,? kind of look. ?Uh, about two weeks ago?? I squeak. ?I see. And when was the last time you menstruated?? Oh god. Menstruated??? I look at Morgen with a ?Please help!!? look. ?Let?s say, late November. Maybe a week before Thanksgiving,? Morgen says. ?Okay, hmmm,? the doctor consults a desk calendar. ?I think enough time has passed for a good diagnosis. I?ll take some blood and we should have an answer in about three days.? ?Three days??? ?And you said that you wanted a subscription for birth control pills, is that correct? Well, considering that you should be just a few days from your next period, there?s no point in starting them now. But I?ll write a subscription and then just start taking them the first Sunday after your period.? As we leave the doctor?s office, I ask Morgen, ?how did you know what my menstrual cycle was?? ?I just used my own,? she says. * * * We are all in the kitchen when the phone rings and Morgen answers it. She listens for a while, says ?thank you? and then hangs up. ?It?s positive,? she says. ?What?s positive?? Richard asks. ?Wait... WHAT???? I drop the peeler and the potato on the floor, where they land with a loud clatter. ?What?s positive?? Richard asks, getting up to help me pick things up. ?She is,? Morgen says. ?MORGEN!!? I whisper loudly, urgently, trying to indicate with my eyes that I DO NOT want this subject discussed in front for Richard! ?Wait, Kelly is Positive? Positive for what?? Richard looks back and forth between us, sensing my panic. ?Nothing!? I trill. But by now Richard is suspicious, and it only takes him a fraction of a second to figure it out. ?Ohhhhh....? he says, eyes wide. ?Oh, Richard, I?m so sorry! I?ve been such an idiot. I... I just wasn?t thinking...? I glare over at Morgen again, begging her to help me, but all she does is nod her head back to Richard. He smiles at me and pulls out his wallet. Seriously? I think to myself. He?s going to pay me off? Write me a check to get an abortion? I look at him, shocked and hurt. Here is the man who I?ve slept with for two weeks, dozens of times... mmm... and... and wait... what is that?? Richard has pulled out something small and round from his wallet. What the hell is that...? And now HE?S KNEELING??????!?? ?Kelly,? Richard says. ?I was looking for the right time to say this, maybe set up a special date or something, but I see now that this is too important. I just want you to know that I resolved to ask you ever since our date at The Four Seasons. That?s when I knew for certain, and ever since them it?s just been a question of finding the right time to pop the question.? ?What question?? I squeak. ?I love you. Almost since I first knew you were a woman. You are all I want in life. I think about you constantly. Whenever we are apart, I can?t wait to see you again. I want to take care of you and make you safe and loved and happy forever.? ?Richard...??? my voice has a rising note of warning. ?Kelly, will you marry me?? ?OH, RICHARD!!? I burst into tears and run out of the kitchen and into my bedroom, slamming the door. * * * ?Sweetie? What?s the matter? Can I help?? Morgen knocks gently and enters my room. ?Oh Morgen!? I break into fresh tears. ?Why?d you have to do that? Why?d you have to tell him I was positive?? ?Because, Kelly,? she says, stroking my arm. ?It?s his baby too.? ?But I?m a man!? I whisper, deathly afraid that Richard will hear. ?I can?t get married!? ?Seriously? You still think you?re a man? After everything that?s happened? You?re pregnant for crying out loud! Is that what this is all about?? ?YES!? I shout, then suddenly hush my self. ?Of course it is! How could this possibly work? What happens when Richard meets my mother and father and they tell him that I used to be a man? What happens then? Oh god! He?s going to leave me, and then I?m going to be the only unwed formerly-male mother on the planet... and I?ll probably be homeless and on welfare living in public housing...? ?Stop that!? Morgen says, sternly. ?Let?s take this one step at a time. First, are you a man or a woman?? I sniffle, looking down at my breasts and legs sticking out of the green patterned housedress that I am wearing. ?A woman,? I admit. ?Yes! Not to be obvious, but yes, you are a woman, inside and out. You are having a baby! Isn?t that amazing?? ?Oh, Morgen!? I