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Love conquers all, but what if it comes up against love? Michael and Jean find a magical coin which allows them to experience other realities as they transform each other. After reading some wonderful, old Caterpillar Girl stories I have to thank her for the inspiration and the device. Callie x Michael wrapped up his shift at the gym as he did most nights, cashing up at the cafe register. Michael managed the gym, after years of working there as a trainer, then progressing into sales which he wasn't particularly good at. The managerial side was pleasant work though, not too taxing and just enough responsibility to provide him with a decent take-home. He occasionally wondered about whether he would have been rich now if his restaurant had succeeded, or his apps had taken off, but he'd never really put in the hard hours, preferring to enjoy his downtime keeping fit and spending time with his family. He noted an odd coin as he counted out the ten pence pieces. Silvery, milled, but slightly smaller, and the writing on it was incomprehensible. Deciding he liked it he swapped it out for one of his own coins and put it in his pocket. Finishing up he closed up the register and collected up the bags into one big cloth bag ready for putting in the safe. Delia took that moment to walk past and wish him goodnight having finished her cleaning shift. He bade her goodnight in return, wishing the young, overweight woman would use her free gym access and thinking how good she might look if she lost a couple of stone. Suddenly amazed he watched as her clothes began to tent off her, and she gasped as her stomach and breasts shrank into her. Looking up at Michael she had fear in her eyes. "What just happened?" He gaped back at her, shaking his head. He took his hands from his pockets and held them up to show he had no magic shrinking gun in them, but immediately wondered why she'd taken the shape of his thoughts. "My husband will think I've spent our savings on surgery," she almost pleaded. "Turn me back!" Why did she think it was anything to do with him? But as he wondered he figured that she believed it wasn't her, and he started to put two and two together. Putting his hand back in his coin pocket he thought of her as she was before, and gaped again as she filled out. "Thank God!" she squealed. "He would have killed me! And then divorced me." She smiled, happy to be back to her fulsome self. "But if you ever figure out what that was, you should sell it. The gym will make a fortune." Amazed that she could experience that and simply toddle away as though it was even possible, Michael watched her retreat out of the front door to her car. He took the contents of his pocket out and found the strange coin or medal or whatever it was. He wondered... "June!" he called out as he walked into the house. "June? Where are you?" "What's the panic?" His wife called from the kitchen. June was a pretty, blonde woman of 5'4", filling out as she approached her mid- century. Michael was a year older than her at forty eight, and six inches taller, as well as still maintaining the body he'd developed as a personal trainer. They'd had their problems in their quarter century together, but had come through them and he thought they might be more deeply in love than ever, even if it was less of a sexual love. He walked through to join her. "You will not believe what I've found." He smiled. "A coin, or something, but I think it can do stuff." "Like what?" "Let's see if it works." He put his hand in his pocket and imagined his wife getting taller, up to his height. She suddenly squealed. "Whoah! What's happening? I feel dizzy!" She looked directly across into his eyes, her mouth as wide as they were. She looked down at her shoes. The floor hadn't risen up, and neither had her heels. "I'm... tall?" "Do you like it?" "I don't know. Am I going to hit my head everywhere? How did you do that?" "I touch this coin, and think about something about you, and it makes it happen!" He brought out the coin to show her. She checked it out, but could make no sense of the writing. "Can I try?" "Sure." He passed it to her. "Hold it and think of something about me you'd like to change." She took it. "I can't think of anything," she murmured. "Anything at all! Don't worry, you can change me back." Suddenly Michael felt himself shrinking, until his wife was about six inches above him. "Oh!" he exclaimed, looking up. "Now I know I won't bang my head!" June burst out laughing. "Wow. We can't stay like this, everyone will go crazy when they see us." With that Michael felt himself growing taller again. She passed him the coin back. "Change me back." Pausing, Michael wondered. "They wouldn't go crazy if we were completely different people. I wonder..." "Do you think it can do that?" "I could try, if you want." "Well, the kids are away. We could go to the pub, but..." "But what?" he asked her. "It would be no fun if nobody knew us. What if you stay the same so your friends will still include us but you change me into someone else?" "I'm not taking another woman to the pub! Then everyone would go crazy." "I'd know you're not cheating on me! But you're right. I'd love to hear your conversations though, especially what you talk about when your wives aren't around." "You know it's just cars and football." "See if you can change me into a man? I like this tall feeling, and we can pretend I'm an old mate come to visit." "Hmm..." Michael concentrated on something that was quite difficult to comprehend, turning his wife male. When she gasped and held her crotch he knew it was working, so concentrated on filling her out a bit, turning her into the kind of friend he would have from a gym. Feeling her muscles grow Jane started to flex them, then felt her bra tighten around her. "Can you change my clothes?" she gasped. He thought of a shirt and trousers, and the skirt and t-shirt transformed. "Wow!" he gawped. "That's wow?" she said in a deep voice. "Not the whole fact that you just shapechanged me like off some tv series?" "Hands in pockets," Michael said to Jane as they wandered to the pub. "You're holding them like a woman walking." She shoved her hands in her pockets, and the result was a straighter walk. "Oh," she said. "I guess I'd better not cross my legs when I sit?" "Nope, that would look odd. Open yourself up." They took stools at the bar and Michael ordered a couple of pints. Jane sipped hers. "Gulp it down," he told her. "Don't drink often, but drink a lot when you do." "There's a lot to learn!" she commented. Michael's friends trickled in and joined them. Michael introduced Jane as John, and they soon started shooting the breeze about football, turning to the screens as a game came on. A few pints went down quite easily and Jane got into being John. At half time she leaned into Michael. "I need to use the ladies." "No you don't," he whispered back, "you need to use the Gents. Go into a stall if you have to." Jane walked in slightly unsteadily, and found the only stall free. Locking the door behind her she went to sit, then realised she could try without. Holding herself to point at the bowl felt a little strange, quite good, and she found her penis growing. 'That makes peeing hard!' She thought to herself and tried to think of boring stuff like schoolwork. Her budding erection subsided and she managed to release the flow which thundered into the water. 'Cool! I can aim and shoot!' She grabbed a piece of paper and wiped the drops off the end before wondering what men did at the urinals without paper. 'Oh, maybe I should shake it or something?' She tried and a few drips flew off. 'That's disgusting, they go everywhere!' Finally sorting herself out she tucked herself in and returned to the bar with a smile. An hour or so later they walked home. Michael shooed her hand away as she went to hold his in the carpark. "Not here!" he growled. "People might see!" "Sorry," she gulped. As they approached the house they saw a strange car on the drive. "Who owns a Jag?" Michael wondered aloud. "No one I know," Jane replied. Curious, Michael unlocked the door and they walked in to see two women in the lounge. Michael recognised one, Susan, an ex-girlfriend from before he'd met Jane. The other he had no clue. Jane, however, did recognise the second, Trisha, a teacher that she'd worked with on and off for many years, as she worked supply. They both looked up at the two men at the door. "Hi, honey," Susan called to Michael, "we figured you'd probably have a few so Trisha came over to give John a lift home." Jane looked at Michael, and Michael looked at Jane. Neither knew what on earth was going on. Trisha stood up and walked over to Jane and took the hand of the uncomfortable new man. "I hope you had a good time, darling, but we've got to get home. We've both got work in the morning." Jane looked at Michael with pleading eyes, but as Michael stood there shellshocked she allowed herself to be dragged away by the strong looking woman. Susan brushed past Michael to wave goodbye and pushed the door shut behind them. "There's coffee in the pot." She said to the man she knew as her husband. "You've got work tomorrow too, so don't be too late coming to bed." With that she turned and headed up the stairs. Jane drove the Jag over to her and Michael's house the moment she got away from work. Dragging him away to the pub for some privacy they sat in a quiet corner away from the early evening semi-crowd. "I've got the coin, I'll change us back." "Wait!" Jane exclaimed. "We have no idea what happened. Let's compare notes first before we shake things up again." "Okay," Michael began, talking with his wife who was wearing a suit and had the stubbly look of a man who hadn't shaved that morning. "Sarah thinks she's my wife, or at least she acts like it, and Emily still lives with us but both of them looked at me strangely when I asked where James was." "Emily is still your daughter, but James is my son. He's staying with Trisha and I on a short break from Uni." "So we still have our children, but you're married to Trisha and I'm married to Sarah. Do you have any other children?" "Not that I know of, just James. So when you changed me into a man the magic gave us each wives and one each of our children to balance out. Anything else different?" "Not much. Same job. Sarah is very similar to you but she works as a secretary rather than a teacher. She does temp work a few days a week." "Well," Jane's eyes glowed, "Trisha is a teacher, Head of Geography at the same school I'm now the Headmaster of." "You're the Head?" "Yes! And we have the Jaguar and Trisha's got a little sports car. We live up in Springfield." "What?" Michael interrupted. "The big houses?" "Almost the biggest. Five beds, four baths. We have a cleaner! It's amazing! You have to see it!" "So, life is good?" Michael mused. "Visit. Come and look. It's everything we ever wanted." "But you're a man." "Yeah. There is that. And I want to be with you. But maybe we can have a little holiday, see what life would have been like, before we change back?" "You like being a man?" Jane seemed to blush slightly. "It's different, but there are benefits. It's only been a day. I kinda like it so far, but there's stuff I miss too." "Benefits?" Michael felt slightly suspicious. "Er, yeah, did you, you know, last night, with Sarah?" "Of course not!" Michael spat out. "What do you think I am?" "Oh. Good. Yes, that's good." "There's something you're not telling me." "I'm not sure how to. But theoretically, you know, if your wife, let's say me, did it with a woman, would that be cheating?" Michael paused to get his head around that. His wife was a man, and she'd gone home with a woman who though she was the new man's wife. If a husband did it with a wife, but the husband was another man's wife... He couldn't figure it out like that. "You slept with someone else while we're married?" "She came onto me. There was no excuse I could give, and this thing" she pointed at her crotch, "was obviously up for it. She's married to me. I didn't know what to do!" "So you had sex with a woman, as a man." "Yes." "Did you enjoy it?" Jane smiled. "Such a man question. Actually, yes, I did. Is this what it's like for you? It was great. I loved it. Not her. I don't love her. But sex as a man is so different, so much better! How can you not want it all the time?" "I did, Jane. You didn't. Remember?" Silence fell. The two were lost in their thoughts. "I have an idea," Jane stated to break the tension. "This coin changed our lives to suit our new bodies. We can't be together as two men, and keep our children and old lives. But we want to be together and I don't want our family to lose us. I've got the life we always aspired to. Obviously a male teacher gets ahead quicker than I could as a wife and mother. You're still a gym manager and personal trainer, and you have that wherever you are. We can try out my new life together, for one week, then change back." "But if you're the man, that means...?" "Yes. A complete holiday, not just from our lives but from our genders and everything. One week only. Would you dare?" Michael knew Jane had him there. To turn it into a dare was to challenge his manhood. They had amazing magic that could do all this and then change them back when they were done. Why wouldn't he try it? Because it mean being a woman? Wouldn't that be something that he should try with the power to change his body? "Yes. Okay. I'll do it. One week, and then we change back." "Unless we prefer it?" "That will never happen. When do I start calling you my husband?" "After you hand over the coin." Jane smiled. Michael liked the smile, but it still didn't look right on a manly face. Michael looked down at his body. He was female, definitely, there was nothing between his legs, but Jane hadn't changed much apart from that. He felt muscly, and fit, could feel his tight abs, but at the same time felt much lighter. He could tense his bicep to a lump, but it wasn't anywhere near the bulk he used to have. His chest too was slightly muscly, and he could tense his pectorals, but there was just a slight jiggle on top of them as he did so. Jane had put a bra on him, but it was barely necessary, except to protect his slightly more sensitive nipples. He was an A cup, if that, and happy about it. He wasn't wearing any jewellery, nor it seemed any makeup, except for his skin feeling a little dry on his face, probably foundation, and two rings on his ring finger. Jane had copied the engagement and wedding rings that she'd once worn. He checked his ears, and there were studs there, nothing dangling. And his hair was cropped short, but with a little weight on top. He went to the ladies and checked himself out. His face was smoother but still boyish, with thin lips and a strong nose. His eyes were still blue. He looked pretty-ish, but androgynous, and it seemed the age told greater on him than it did on Jane, or John as he now had to call him. Returning to John he wondered who he was now, but not for long as a call from the bar caught his attention. "Shelley? Is John with you?" It was a neighbour of theirs, who also visited the gym. "Dominic, hi, yes, we're in the corner." "Tell him our son's got his exams sorted, and tell him thanks. I'll pop over in a minute." "Sure, Dom." So Michael was now Shelley, probably from Michelle. And his voice was higher, but not high. A slightly gravelly contralto. As he got back to the table he told John of the encounter. "By the way," he added, "you didn't put me in a dress?" John shrugged. "Why would I? We're at the pub, not the opera. Did you want to walk back in heels too?" "God, no!" "So let's use those Keds and get back to see our new house!" "And find out what else has changed?" "Yeah," agreed John, a little nervously, "that too." The house was amazing. Headmasters earned a much higher salary than either Michael or Jane could have hoped for. As they both crossed their fingers entering they first found the key worked, and that the Jag and the Mazda cabriolet were on the drive. "Hey, Mum, Dad." They were greeted as they walked into the lounge. Both Emily and James were sat watching the TV. Michael, Shelley, let out a sigh of relief. "Hey, kids! Did you leave us any dinner?" "In the oven," Emily replied without looking up. John took Shelley's hand and walked her through to the kitchen. It was amazing, all new units and an Aga in the centre. "This is a beautiful house," she said to her new husband of twenty five years. "The rest is just as perfect," he replied. "Except for the kids' rooms, I'm sure they're all over the place." Shelley laughed. "No change there!" They sat in the kitchen to eat at the breakfast bar. "So what now?" Shelley asked. "We go to bed, we have fun, we wake up in the morning and try out our holiday lives?" "We have fun? What's that bit about?" "You know, we go to bed, and do what husbands and wives do." "We'll be doing exactly what husbands and wives of twenty five years do, honey. Going to sleep." John made a face. "Surely you want to try it?" "Having sex with a man? I don't think so." "But it's me, your wife. You've gotta give it a go?" "It's you, a man. I don't swing that way. Now let's not talk about it in case one of the kids walks in. I want to see what happens tomorrow." John shrugged, somewhat unhappily. "We've got a week. Can you promise me one night?" "We'll see." Shelley got up and headed to find the bedroom. Shelley found showering to be an experience as she wondered how to clean her private places. Did she wash inside, or just outside? Figuring that she could get quite gunky in there she slipped a soapy finger in and wondered at the feeling of it moving around inside her. It wasn't much to feel, just strange that it was inside, though no more than pressing toilet paper into her rear on the occasions it needed it. It was easier to get into, that was for sure, looser. Her nipples were more sensitive, and her breasts did move a little as she soaped over her chest, that particular loose feeling of the flesh moving being an odd one. She was glad that John hadn't given her bags of fat. Smooth skin was a nice feeling. She could feel the beginings of stubble as she sponged her legs, but there was little hair anywhere else apart from her pubes and her head. Washing her hair was simple too, but when she came to dry it she could see that it needed some kind of shape, not just left uncombed as she used to do with her own short hair. She mussed it up a bit and found some gum to hold it up, which left it in a good looking, loose style. John showered too, separately, and found that he enjoyed soaping his penis. The smooth strokes with the soapy gel felt really good, and he felt himself respond. He was amazed at the growth, looking down he felt that his penis went from a drooping lump of flesh to a solid, huge pillar of meat. He had to be gentle around his balls, and felt them, careful as they were so sensitive. They weren't balls, which he hadn't realised, but more like slightly soft eggs. He didn't like the hair on his legs, but it had a kind of manliness about it. And then there was hair everywhere else, which sometimes caught in buttons or belts. Finally there was hair on his face which was really stiff and scraggly. He knew he'd have to ask Shelley how to shave in the morning. At least she would understand, unlike Trisha. He wondered where Trisha was. Though he hadn't really spent much time with her, nor wanted to, she was a lover in his bed, and seemed to enjoy their physical time together. That he'd found amazing. There wasn't much he enjoyed about being a man, if you discounted all the accoutrements like the house, car and job, but sex was so demanding and intense. And quick! He could cum just thinking about it, and what an explosion it was! Damn, he enjoyed sex. It would be so good if Shelley did too, but only if she wanted to. He loved his wife just as he had loved his husband, and he would do nothing to hurt the person inside. Shelley found sitting on the toilet to be no different than sitting on the toilet. There were still muscles to be pushed and relaxed, but she had to remember to wipe. Standing up in the bedroom in front of the full length mirror she checked out her naked body. She was a bit thick waisted for her own tastes, but it was still trim and bumpy over the abs. She flexed a bicep and saw that she had great muscletone for a woman, if nothing on a man who worked out. Her thighs were thick, strong, and her butt was round like she'd done plenty of squats. It was bigger than a man's butt, but looked really good. Her tits were barely there, nipples just smarties on a slightly bumpy ironing board. Her face was not feminine, if not a man's face. Strong, whilst smooth skin made it look soft. Between her legs, nothing but a slit. And it would remain that way for the week, she thought, though maybe just for John's sake she could allow more than nothing one evening. It might feel good, but she would definitely be doing it in the dark. John enjoyed his job. He was the boss of the entire secondary school. It was hard work, much harder than just turning up for a day or two and teaching, as he had to balance the budget, organise the staff, maintain the timetable, setup trips, keep discipline amongst the children whilst allowing them their growing freedom to experiment, and police the bullies. He loved the fact that people deferred to his judgment, and would do as he asked, though he made sure to keep his requests reasonable and polite. He didn't like the clothing. Turning up in a suit and tie every day was simply boring and way too restrictive. And the shoes were just plain uncomfortable! How could men clomp around in clogs all day? And the same clogs day in day out? He wanted to kick them off under his desk but the mistake of choosing lace-ups meant that he couldn't. And his secretary would pop in and out at all hours. Shelley had shown him how to wet shave. Then shown him how to dress the cuts. He hated it, so fiddly and only able to be done in a mirror. How could men cope with that every day? Then there was the masculinity, the whole being a man thing. He liked that challenge of it, but there was so much to learn! The handshake. The considered interruption. How to hold back when a woman wouldn't stop speaking. How to never touch a woman, even if you just wanted to give her a hug to show someone was listening. And how to change the whole conversation from listening to telling. To giving advice. He couldn't sit back and just sympathise, his staff and pupils expected him to provide answers. He found that so interesting, that he could just come up with an idea and throw it out there, and he enjoyed being allowed to be that creative. At the end of the day he just wanted relief. He hoped Shelley would come round. Whereas she was finding problems, challenges, and interests of her own. She turned up to the gym for her normal hours to find a younger colleague, Duncan, was her manager. As an assistant manager she had duties that she still knew how to perform, but she was timetabled more to giving classes, especially to the older generations. She was listed as a personal trainer, but had few bookings, and figured that the youth wanted the youthful to train them. She knew the classes, of course, but hadn't had a great amount of experience taking them, so made a few mistakes that she was able to gloss over. What she did enjoy was her flexibility, and found the yoga and pilates to be hugely enjoyable. When she finally got an hour to train by herself she hit the gym and was disappointed in her stats, even though they were great for a woman. At least there she did find company with the boys who enjoyed sharing the equipment with her, able to talk to someone with so much knowledge of training that they could shake their routines up. Still she rued the fact that they wouldn't pay her for a personal session. The other trainers were respectful, but after work they went off in their young group, leaving her to drive home. She felt a little flat, and hoped John would let her relax and crash. A few days later John was beginning to think that his 'wife' wasn't playing the holiday game. She pleaded tiredness every night. They barely even kissed, Shelley complaining about his stubble and leaning up to him being difficult on her ever sore neck. Saturday was a short day for her in the gym, so he hoped she'd be fresher, and they were both off on Sunday so they could relax and recover. He'd spent the Saturday doing man things. Fighting with the lawnmower, working out how to trim the bushes, and catching himself with the saw as he tried to cut some lengths of wood to fix a gap in the decking. He'd retired to the kitchen for a cold beer or two, and was feeling healthy and vibrant. Shelley came in early and sorted dinner out for them both, before packing the kids off to their various appointments. Emily was going out to stay over at a friend's, and James was having a night in town before heading back to university in the morning though he'd be back in the night. He was just moving furniture into his new digs, but didn't actually start lectures for another week. For dinner he brought out a bottle of wine from the small cellar, and poured them both large glasses. "How's it going?" he asked her. "I'm getting used to it, but there aren't many women of my age working in gyms. I'm beginning to think it wouldn't have been the career choice I would have made in this life. I don't have many friends and it's not really an earner, is it?" "Headmasters make enough for two. You'd probably retire or find something else to do. If we carried on, that is." "But we won't, will we? A few more days. I'm not exactly finding this to be a holiday." "It's an experience, though, right? You're seeing how the other half live?" "It's an experience." They drank their way through the bottle, John making sure that Shelley's glass was always topped up. They sat down next to each other on the sofa, and he took her hand as they watched a downloaded film. She'd put on a romance for him, but he'd made sure it was a slightly more adult one, with something to see. As the screen couple made their way to bed together for the first time he put his hand on her leg and began to stroke it. She felt it and relaxed back, enjoying the gentle massage. When John turned to kiss Shelley she responded. He'd been sure to shave in the afternoon, in an attempt to not put her off. The smoothness felt comforting, and she kissed him with some of the missing passion. She could feel her nipples erect against her bra, and enjoyed the slightly tingling sensation as they crinkled up. He felt his ardour rise, and decided it was time. "Come to bed?" "What about the film?" He grinned. At least she hadn't said no. "We haven't been watching it for five minutes already." "True." She kissed him again. "I'm nervous, but I do love you." With that she got up and held out her hand for him. He grabbed it and rose, not really pulling, and then shifted his bits uncomfortably in his crotch as they forced themselves up against his Junes. Shelley led him upstairs, and into their bedroom. Once there she paused. John moved past her and began to undress for bed. Looking back at her he encouraged her to undress too. Slowly she began to take off her clothing, nervous determination on her face. They lay in bed together, naked, facing each other. The main light was off but John still had his bedside lamp on. Shelley's face was dimly lit but his was in shadow. He looked at her carefully. "If you want to stop at any time, you just have to tell me." Shelley nodded. It was Dutch courage, perhaps. She felt good after the wine, open to experiment. "I want to do this for you," she affirmed. "For us," he responded. "Let's do this because we love each other and want to show it." Shelley smiled. "You old romantic. No, you were right, I should find out how this feels, to better know you when we go back to ourselves." "That's a good way of looking at it. Understanding each other." "Quit talking. Before I back out." John moved on top of Shelley, kissing her steadily on the lips. With his hands he moved her legs apart, and gently began stroking her quim with his fingers, waiting for the little button to inflate and peek out from under its hood. Shelley felt his fingers stroking her, but noticed only the lack of her male genitalia, nothing being grabbed or rising up to erection, and could barely feel much beyond the pleasant stroking. She wondered why he was doing it. Breaking off their kissing for a moment she closed her eyes and sighed. "Can you put it in there already?" Not thinking of it as a negative request, John gladly did as she asked. He was gentle though, manipulating his foreskin between her labia so that his head would slide in, rather than push in forcefully. Slowly he moved his hips down, and he saw his wife bite her bottom lip as she felt him enter. Shelley felt her muscles around her hole move apart, pressed by the pressure of his penis, and then felt him sticking slightly. His gentle pushing seemed to pinch her sensitive insides, but she figured it might just be something she had to deal with. Slowly John moved in deeper, feeling the same sticking sensation rather than a slippery one that he'd felt before. With Trisha he'd just slid straight in, so he tried even more gently. It was press, press, press, slip, then press again. Each slip caused Shelley to make a face, or a sound, something like a gasp. He took that to be good. He was sure she'd loosen up once he was inside. "Ow!" cried Shelley as he slipped once more, pulling her insides with a pinch as he put his weight down on her. She felt split open and the weird sensation of something inside her, something which didn't feel right at all being there. Then a man was on top of her, and it hurt. This was not fun at all! "Stop, please!" John stopped in mid-motion, and just pulled back slightly. "Are you okay?" "No. I'm sorry. This hurts and doesn't feel right." "Maybe we need some lubricant?" "Look, sure, just try it." He pulled out and noted her brief exclamation of pain as he did so. Running to the bathroom he pulled out a tube of jelly from a drawer and rubbed some over his burgeoning dick as he walked back to the bed. Quickly he climbed back over his wife and without hesitation started the whole process again. This time there was no sticking or pinching and he more quickly slipped himself inside her as she gasped, at least this time not in pain. "Is that better?" "It's better. There's no pinching. It's just..." "What?" "Nothing. Why don't you try moving now?" She lay there as he began to slowly pump his hips up and down and his penis into her vagina. She felt it moving, but barely, like the jelly had removed any connection between them, and she was just a hole for his cock to slide in and out of. After a few pumps she heard him groan slightly, like she once had, as she'd made love to her wife. Just that now she was underneath a man, and he was pressing her down, sweaty and weighty. Her legs were pressed apart around him, which wasn't uncomfortable but was strange. And she had a cock inside her, with little positive to feel about it. As he pressed down she knew he was in deep, and she felt wrong, so wrong. "John?" She looked up at him. He slowed but didn't stop, looking back at her. "Could you stop?" "What's wrong?" he asked with concern, pausing. "It doesn't feel right. I can't do this." "Don't you feel anything good?" "Nothing. I'm sorry. Can you please take it out?" He complied, but she couldn't see his face as he did so. "Could you maybe use your hand?" "For what? Ew, no! Do it yourself! Go in the bathroom!" With his tail between his legs John slunk away from the marital bed. When he returned she appeared to be asleep. He'd had time to think. Shelley couldn't help being Michael in her mind. That was something he couldn't change. Sex had hurt her at first, because she wasn't lubricated, which was maybe down to the fact that she wasn't turned on, and possibly slightly because she was now an older woman. He'd tried to excite her, but she hadn't gone for it or realised, but maybe that was because she wasn't looking forward to what they'd done, but maybe also her body wasn't easily excited. He'd not found her clitoris and he knew where to look. She needed to experience great sex once, in order to want to do it again, but getting to that once might be really tough now. Older women simply didn't have the drives that he remembered having between about twenty five and thirty years old. The drives that had resulted in their children. "I've had a thought," he said, as Shelley woke and turned towards him. "Yes?" "I have some ideas on how to make sex feel good for you, but it kinda relies on you actually wanting to give it another go, which I guess you probably don't." "You're right there, honey. I am sorry, but I just can't do it." "Hear me out. I've got the coin, and I want us to use it to make some changes. After that, it's up to you again." "You want to change us back already? I don't mind." "No. I want to change us both though, and after that we'll change back to finish our holiday." "Aren't you concerned about reality changing again? We could end up anywhere." John had thought this through. "It's Sunday. We'll change for as long as it takes, but change back as soon as we're done. Whatever happens for twenty minutes, half an hour, whatever, nothing will really impact us before we change back. Then everything will be as it is now and no-one will be the wiser." "Except us." "Exactly." John turned to his bedside and retrieved the coin. He sat up in the bed looking down on Shelley. She smiled up at him. "First," he said, "I'm going to make some changes to you which I hope will make things better for sex for you. Then I'll give you the coin and you try to make the changes I suggest to me." She grinned. "Okay. Hit me." John concentrated on a few things. He didn't change Shelley much to look at, except that he dropped twenty years from her physical age. Her skin tightened, her face youthened, and she looked simply more fit. Her eyes seemed to glow with the brightness of younger days. Much less visibly he concentrated on physical sensation. He made her clitoris slightly larger and more sensitive, and thought about positioning it slightly closer to her vaginal entrance, where he might rub against it. He imagined her having a highly sensitive vaginal wall, sensitive to pleasure but not pain, and slicker, quick to lubricate. Then he guessed at there being some kind of hormone mix which might make her hornier, easier to arouse, not that he knew what that would be. And a G-Spot, she needed one of those, in a location which he could rub against once inside, and which would provide her with intense orgasms. Multi-orgasmic, of course, because he didn't want her stopping before he was done, though again, it was just a vague thought rather than something he knew how to physically affect. Without even realising he was doing it he wondered if her nipples might cause her to get aroused if they were stimulated, and maybe her lips too if she was kissed, and the sides of her neck, and her ass if it was pinched or spanked. John shook himself and dropped the coin. "Whoah, enough," he said out loud. "I hope some of that works but boy, if you start thinking about sex this penis thing gets all solid and then you can't stop thinking about it, can you?" "Were you having naughty thoughts?" Shelley teased, and then smiled as she realised her voice was smoother. Turning towards the mirrored cupboards she took a look at her changes. "You made me younger? Is that what you wanted?" "Yes, one thing. I figured it might help with your hormones, make lubrication easier." "Make me hornier?" "That too." "You still have to get over the fact that I'm pretty much a lesbian." She rolled back towards him. "And for that I'm going to give you the coin." He handed it to her. "So tell me what you suggest I should change?" "Here goes. I'd like you to think of me as whatever woman you'd like, except you're going to leave me my male bits and pieces." "You want to be a woman with a dick?" "You want me to be a woman. I want you to make love to a dick. Best of both worlds?" "Okay," Shelley mused. It might work, especially if she transformed John into someone she'd really like to make love to. Thinking that, she decided on a young Cindy Crawford, or near as she could think of, and watched in appreciation as John transformed into a statuesque, slim brunette, with pleasant boobs and deep, brown eyes. "Don't forget the penis!" John called out in a sultry voice, as he felt it disappear. "Oh, sorry." She concentrated, and John had his penis back, although maybe slightly larger, as she'd mostly had experience of viewing penises from a couple of feet above one. "Cindy Crawford?" he said as he looked in the mirror. "I should have guessed." "You're still John or June in there though, right?" "Of course. Why?" "It's kinda intimidating lying in bed naked next to my boyhood fantasy." "Well, my darling, you're about to have your fantasy come true!" This time as John reached his hand down between Shelley's legs he very quickly found what he was looking for. "Oh!" she gasped in surprise. "That feels... good! Is that...?" "Your clitoris." "It feels like you're... Oh! Stroking my penis, but all in one tiny place! I feel... Oh! I feel like I'm getting wet inside!" "That's good." John kissed Shelley with his thickened lips, soft on hers. He felt her sink into him. Shelley loved the feeling of the kiss, and his fingers between her legs really did make her feel like she had a cock again, which was getting hard and feeling oh so good. She felt him move his lips away from hers and down the side of her neck, and her breathing got faster as it didn't quite tickle her, but felt so sensitive and sensual. Her nipples were already aching, and her hips wanted to move to some kind of rhythm. As his lips moved around to her chest she pushed it up towards him, desperate already for him to suck on her small breasts. When he did, pulling the nipple into his soft, moist mouth, she felt a tingle through her body that caused a spasm in her quim, forcing her to open her eyes in shock as she felt something she'd never felt before. And it felt good. She grabbed at his long hair, pulling his face into her chest and feeling a space opening up between her legs, a space she wanted filled! But could she have it filled with a cock. Still she wondered, nervously, bringing her slightly back down to earth. Was he going to spoil everything by trying to have sex with her. John rose over Shelley and moved back up to kissing her lips. He felt that he'd lost the strength in his arms to stay above her, so he quickly manouevered his little head into position above her slick labia. Feeling his arm tremble he pressed down and when his tip was in he brought his other hand back for support. Slowly he slid in. This wasn't bad for Shelley. In fact, she thought, this was good. Really good. As she felt the cock slip inside her she could feel every pulsing vein on its surface, and each slip, slide, beat and thrust sent a thrill through her body into a point in the back of her brain which screamed out in pleasure. Then John touched something inside her which at first felt like she needed to pee, and then quickly like if she did pee she'd release a small ball of pleasure exploding into her whole body. But she couldn't pee, or explode, or whatever it was, not while every thrust inside her was expanding that marble into something bigger that would soon fill the space inside her. She needed to feel the cock deeper, and began to thrust up against John, forcing the ball to grow and grow until she was tensed up and gasping for breath. She felt it burst with a scream as pleasure shuddered through her body and fireworks exploded in the back of her mind. Relieved, relaxed, she lost all control of her muscles as they twitched and that part of her brain which had gone to heaven slowly came back down to find itself back in her sodden body. A body which was still being fucked by her dream woman, still being pounded into pleasurable submission, with no release as a new ball began to grow in the space inside her where the first had barely fully vacated. "Don't stop!" She called out to her lover. "Don't stop!" As she begged for the next release to arrive already. And arrive it did, with John pumping harder, barely able to control his excitement and enthusiasm before he released it into Shelley's powerful, tense body. They came together, Shelley feeling the full power of John's ardour pumping into her, before the fantasy arms collapsed and the fantasy tits squidged down onto her still climaxing body. "Let's do that again." Shelley sighed as she stretched out like a cat on the bed. "You need to change me back," ohn admonished. "We have no idea what's happened to our reality, but I doubt Cindy is Headmistress of the local comprehensive." Shelley pouted, something neither of them could remember her doing before, but it felt right. "Okay, pass me that coin again." "John, remember, not June. We still have a few days." "Okay, I don't mind. John sounds good too, just for a few days. You are ugly as John though, you know?" "Not my problem, I'm married." He laughed, as he felt his masculinity return. "Now you change me?" Shelley asked. "I don't have to. You see your rings?" John watched Shelley checking out her ring finger, and finding the engagement and wedding rings still there. "I figured as long as I made sure they were there, reality would keep you and me married. So fingers crossed you're probably now my younger model second wife, and we're still together in this house." "So sex can stay feeling like that? And Cindy can visit anytime?" "I don't know about Cindy..." mused John, as he reached to put the coin back into his bedside. "Let's see how we go." They got showered, dressed, and went to check out their surroundings. Shelley was confused. She wanted sex. As a young man she'd always wanted sex, but she could live without having it. This was different. She wanted sex now. As she and John spent the day in the house and garden she would find her eyes drifting to his crotch, and the package hidden under his Junes. She didn't want John, though she did want the woman inside him, and in fact it still upset her to think of having sex with a man, but as the day wore on her need for sex began to mollify her feelings about that. Sex with a man was still sex, and she wanted to feel that amazing release again. John caught her looking more than once, and though it did make him feel good, he wondered about the sudden and quite drastic change in his partner. Well, it was exactly what he wanted, for Shelley to enjoy sex enough to want to have it again over the next few days. What neither he nor Shelley realised was that the changes he'd made to her made her orgasms near addictive, so good were they. But it didn't matter that night as she climbed onto him, too horny to bother about getting the coin to change him. Nor the next morning, when James walked past their bedroom door as John pounded a prone Shelley from behind. Work for both of them was difficult as they couldn't wait to get back to each other. They texted each other through the day, each text initially flirtatious, then getting sexy, then downright dirty. John didn't look at any of the female members of his staff the way he looked at Shelley, as she was his ideal woman. He didn't see others as a way to find relief, just looked forward to getting home to his wife. Shelley, well, for her it was a bit different. She didn't want a man at all, but she wanted what a man could give her. She had to fight to keep herself on the straight and narrow, especially now that she was no longer an assistant manager, but instead had her day filled with personal training sessions themselves filled with young, fit females and young, packaged males. By the time she got home she was ready to rape John in any room she could find him, and the children found her distracted and ditzy. Not that it mattered to them, because it turns out that was what they thought of their step-mother anyway. She found her own children cold, and shutting her off, not wanting to talk in the lounge or chat in the kitchen. She served them food like they expected her to wait on them hand and foot. James was the most direct, especially when she met him that first afternoon in the kitchen where he was waiting for the kettle to boil. "Hi, James." "Hi, Shelley." "Not 'Mum'?" she asked, curiously, having thoughtlessly expected the title. "God, no. Why would I ever call you that? I have a Mum, no matter what you try to do here with my insane Father." Leaving the kettle he exited the kitchen to be somewhere else. Shelley felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, and for the first time since becoming a woman she actually began to cry. "I don't like this," she complained to John after she'd nailed him to the mattress and cum four times. "You don't like sex? You could have fooled me." "No," she smiled weakly, "I don't like being your second wife, your first wife, or any wife. I want to go home." John sighed and lay back. "Two more days, that's all." "I know, and I want you to have your fun, I really do, but I've had enough." "How about we take the next two days off? Go somewhere? No kids, no nothing, live in a hotel, spend money, really have a holiday?" Shelley stayed quiet for a minute before she answered. "Just go somewhere different and be just us?" "Just us John and Shelley, for the last two days. We'll fly. Join the mile-high club." She smiled. "That could be fun." "I'll get on the internet and book us something." Early the next morning they drove to the local airport and took a short flight to Paris. Admittedly there was little point in them going to Paris as they barely left their hotel room. At least the food and wine were excellent. Shelley stepped out of the cab as John paid the driver. Maybe there was time for one more bed session before they returned to their normal lives. She was praying that neither James nor Emily were in the house, as she didn't want to deal with them one last time. She wanted to return happy, with memories she could really enjoy as she lived out the rest of her life as Michael, with his wife June, and a new closeness and intimacy. There was a car outside the house she didn't recognise, and she pointed it out to John as he joined her. He shrugged. "No idea." He confirmed. As they approached the door it opened, and her heart sank slightly as James came out to them. Ignoring her he went straight to John. "Dad, so glad you're back. I need a hand with something in the garage that I need to take back to Uni." "Okay, son, can we get the cases inside first?" "No time! I'm late for meeting the guys already." John looked at Shelley and shrugged. "Two minutes, hun. Leave the cases, just put the kettle on?" She nodded and stepped inside. In the living room was someone familiar. She'd only seen her for two minutes, but this was the woman who took John home the first day they'd found the coin. "Trisha?" "Shelley," the woman batted back, coldly. "Please sit for a moment, I don't have long." "What do you want?" She went to sit on the sofa, opposite the older woman. "Oh, my husband, and my children want their mother. But strange story, it seems they've given me a way to make that happen." Shelley waited, wondering what the next barb might be, realising that Trisha was obviously the first, and ex-, wife. "James was being his usual curious self and came across this strange item. With it he and Emily discovered they could make changes to each other, but that no-one else noticed, and in fact reality changed around them. They showed me, and you can imagine how stunned I was, and then James said I could use it perhaps. Now he's distracting his father, though I believe that's not necessary, but it's nice I have you alone." The coin! Shelley went to move and discovered that she couldn't. Screaming out for James she was panicked to find no sounds escaping her mouth. "Nice try, dear, but too late. You can't move or make a noise until I'm done with you. I'm not cruel though. John and I were already separated before he took you on as a personal trainer, so I don't blame you, I just need you out of the way. Not fucking him so loudly you wake my kids!" Shelley tried desperately to do anything. She tried to plead with Trisha, wanted to get her to understand that none of this was real, that John was really June, her own, Michael's, wife. "Did you ever wonder if he's gay? I did, for many years. He has these feminine touches, and look at us. You're a younger version of me, tom-boyish. I can see it in you, like me, a girl who was lucky to find a man like John. I would never catch him looking at beautiful women, but occasionally he would check out some young boy, only to stop when he realised it was a young boy. He's feminine and likes masculine women. Of course what convinced me he wasn't gay was the sex! He really does love it, doesn't he, and never that dirty stuff behind. So I'm just going to make a tweak to reality which I hope will turn out the way I plan, as I understand the changes tend to align to the way I change you. You need to be someone he'd never have looked at, and then he wouldn't have left me. Don't worry, you'll love the results. "You need to be pretty, keeping that nice soft skin but softening the shape of that face. More heart shaped, a bump of a chin, and a raised jawline, up to some womanly cheekbones. Slightly bigger eyes but you can keep that lovely blue. Bigger lashes. Oh, a smaller nose, cute, and bigger lips of course, not those thin lines we both have, or you had, rather." Shelley felt the changes to her face, though she couldn't see anything of herself, just the impression of bloated, soft lips as she mouthed her distress. "None of this cropped hair, you need a mane, and it should be blonde, though dyed, of course. It'll set off those blue eyes. Down to your nipples, at least, you should be able to cover them under it. Hmm, breasts, you need those, as he really doesn't like breasts, so we'll make sure you have plenty, a bit too much for your size. A trim waist, not those square sides. Something a belt will really go tight around. Then womanly hips, proper child-bearing ones. Longer legs, though we'll keep you the same height. What are you, 5'8", 5'9"? You might be able to model. If it wasn't for the breasts, anyway. Of course you need to slim those legs so you can lose some of that muscle. Feminine women don't lift weights, so we'll trim everything back to looking like you work out by dieting. Not too trim though, you need some shape on that bottom still!" The weights on her chest would have pulled her forward if she wasn't stuck in place, and the way she rose as her bottom filled out and spread across the seat was disconcerting. Her hair though, that she could see, and hated as it framed the sides of her vision. "Now for the details." She felt pinpricks in her lower back, her left shoulder blade, and on her right breast. "That's a butterfly on the breast, just peeking out over your bra, inviting someone to take a look. A rose on your shoulder of course, and some kind of design lower down, a proper tramp stamp, which might just leave you in the life of a proper tramp! But I said I wouldn't be cruel." Tattoos! Feminine ones, of course. Nothing escaped this witch whom Shelley had never harmed. "Nice big hoops in the ears, and a few more decorations there." She felt the hoops tug down on her lobes, and the pricks all around her ears as other piercings manifested. "A belly button ring. I hear it's all the rage with young girls. One of those tiny nose stones, that makes you look so exotic and somehow submissive. A few necklaces, of course. I'm not going cheap on you, dear, you'll be able to pawn these for a few nights in a hostel if you need to. Plenty of bangles and those silly cotton wraps. Now rings. First you can lose mine, then you can have a selection, including this lovely one I'll put on your ring finger. Just the one, don't worry, and a much smaller diamond than you're used to. Oh, I forgot your nails! They look a mess. How about we just have some naturally long ones, in a gorgeous red varnish." "Underneath you need the proper feminine lingerie, so you can have stockings with a suspender belt, and a matching set from Victoria's Secret or somewhere. And now, the coup de grace, which I hope will take you far away from my husband and children, just in case you have any crazy ideas. A job where trousers are frowned upon, so he won't even look at you if you walked right up to him. Skirt and high heels for you dear, and I hope I've got that right. I was looking it up just earlier. That's the proper logo on your jacket and hat." She felt herself fully dressed, but everything was tight around her, fitted to within an inch of her life. She still had no idea the totality of her changes. "Why don't you get up and take a look at yourself in the mirror over the fireplace, dear? You'll find you can't come within two feet of me, so don't even try." Resigned to that fact, she stood, and walked over to the fireplace, missing her first step in the high heels. Getting herself under control she tried walking more gently towards the mirror. Yes, she was beautiful. Michael admired the sight from a man's point of view, finding the press of his breasts out of the blouse to be very attractive. But he couldn't cope with the feel of breasts from the inside, nor the turn of his ankles in the heels or the jiggle of his bottom as he moved. Then there was the hair, now swept back off his face and onto his head in a tight bun, a do he appreciated momentarily for the fact it wasn't hanging down. At least he was still here, he thought, inside, and John, or preferably June, would be able to save him. He turned towards Trisha and went to tell her the mistake she'd made, to plead with her one last time. "Sorry, dear, you can move but no noise until you're away from here. I'm so curious to find out what happens next, aren't you?" The witch grinned, and sort of giggled slightly. John came into the room with James and another, shorter man in a uniform waistcoat and trousers. "Thank you so much for bringing our luggage back." He turned to the short man and shook his hand. "All part of the service, sir," the man replied. "Of course, we still deeply apologise for having mislaid it in the first place." "Would you like to stop for a cup of tea?" He asked the man. "You, miss?" He said, turning to Michael, no longer Shelley, unless that was still his name now. Michael shook his head, unable to respond, seeing that John absolutely didn't recognise him and, apart from holding his gaze for a moment, paid no interest to him. "Sorry, sir, but we have to get back for our return shift. Come along, Mischa, we can't keep the car waiting." Mischa stood her ground, shaking her head. "Oh the poor dear," he heard Trisha say. "She looks so tired, dead on her feet. She might..." John looked over at the slumped form of the stewardess. "Not just might, she did." "I'm sorry, sir," explained the steward, "it was a long shift and the jet lag does get to us. We'll make sure she sits in the jump seat for the first few hours on the return. Get some rest." "Well," said John, "we'd better check she's okay then help you get her to the car." Mischa woke from her faint a some moments later, in a taxi, convinced that Trisha had used the coin to make her faint and get rid of her. It took a while before her voice fully returned, by which time they were halfway to Heathrow. From his name badge the steward was Dennis, a man who wouldn't contemplate turning back no matter how she pleaded, and she could find no reasonable excuse. Her new colleagues were waiting at the airport with their cases, and she found a passport in the name of Mischa Stanton, her true surname. They had walked her to the plane and helped her into the crew bunks, then left her to recover so that she could start work on the Dinner shift five hours in. She'd get another rest before working the second Dinner shift as they approached Sydney. She had some making up to do to her colleagues if she was going to keep working the UK route and have any chance of getting back to John. Of course, worse than working two shifts in eighteen hours in a job she didn't know, in tight clothes, high heels and carrying the weight of two large breasts, was the fact that she was feeling incredibly horny. Epilog The tall woman strode confidently down the hospital corridors, heading for the Cardiac ward. Men appraised her as she passed, noting the slim, strong looking body under the casual t-shirt and jeans, the proud face still carrying the vestiges of youthful beauty, and perhaps catching the grey roots under the short, auburn hair. She spotted a vending machine, and pausing to view the contents she touched her chip finger to the glass in front of a fruit bar, the screen noting her purchase and deducting the required funds before releasing the bar to the collection drawer. She opened it and chewed on it slowly, hoping the sugars would combat her tiredness. Pushing open the doors to the ward she looked around before heading to a bed containing an old man, somewhere in his seventies, hooked up to all the monitors. He looked at her as she took a seat next to him. "Are you from the insurance?" he asked, before being wracked by a coughing fit. She passed him a glass of water from the cabinet next to him. "No, just an old friend with a few questions." "An old friend? I'm sorry, I don't recall. The memory is... not what it used to be. It's the drugs, I think." She smiled at him. "I don't look like you remember. You're John Desmond, but once upon a time you were June Desmond, before you married Michael Stanton." The old man's eyes widened, and he looked at the woman in shock. "Michael, you know Michael? I was confused, for so long." "Yes, the changes left vestiges of memory. Not every jump in reality could blank out everything that had gone before, especially for those who went through many changes. You had to remember being June, so you had to remember Michael." "Until he disappeared. We were playing with a coin, but I remember a life with Trisha. She was so good to me, which must have been painful for her because I never truly loved her." The old man was reminiscing, but the woman stopped to listen. "She was a good mother. I was... sad... to lose her. But I always hoped. Where is Michael?" She took a breath. She'd never known whether she could truly go through with this. Perhaps she should fill him in a little first. "I knew Michael twenty four years ago. At the time I moved down to Sydney, Australia, to be with my fiance. We had our first child within a year. I have four children, by four different fathers, two of whom I was married to. Employment laws meant I kept my job as a stewardess through all the pregnancies, but the company put me on the short-haul routes, inside Australia. I could be a mother to my children, but I couldn't get out of the country. "After my second divorce, whilst pregnant with Beth, my youngest, I met a woman, a mother herself, who showed me that I didn't need a man to satisfy my appetites. After thinking that I would never know love again I found it in her, even though I fought it for a while. "We had our issues. I had a scare a few years ago, and as a result I had a double mastectomy. She wasn't so lucky. As I was cleared so they found she was late stage. She left me some things in her will, one of which was an open ticket to hyper over to the UK, with the exhortation to find you. I'm fulfilling her final wishes, Jean. I've come to tell you that I am Michael." Once again the old man's eyes lit up, but not in shock this time. He reached for the woman's hand. "I knew it," he said. "There was something about you, and I'm so glad you could come to see me before the end. I have regrets, of course, but not ever seeing you again or knowing what happened was going to be my greatest. "I'm not getting out of here, you know? It's the heart, it's too weak, ravaged inside apparently by infection. Oh, God, I wish I had the last twenty years back with you, Michael, but I've loved our children and watched them grow up into fine adults. James is running some company up North and Emily became a Doctor like she always wanted. She's the reason I'm still here." "I'd love to see them again, but they don't know me. In this life they were never mine, no matter how much I know they are." "I'm confused about what happened back then, but we messed up, didn't we, playing with power beyond our control? I wish that coin had never come into our lives. We were happy, we didn't need more." He paused. "Have you been happy, Michael?" "I've had a good life. Two, actually. I have four amazing, crazy children, and the eldest is getting married soon. I'd like someone to keep me company into my old age, but I can't deny the happiness I've already had." She tilted her head to one side, looking at the old man in query. "If you had the chance, would you come back with me?" He coughed again, pain evident on his face. Finally he relaxed. "Would I come back to Australia? I'm too old, Michael, too ill." "What if you weren't?" "If we had that coin back?" He sank back into his pillows, letting out a sigh. "When I began to question my memories, and realise what I'd lost, I was devastated. Now that you're here, it's the greatest gift I've ever received, short of your kiss on our wedding day. I messed us up, and you've fixed us. I would never want another chance to take this away. I love you, Michael." He coughed again, in gasping pain this time. "I've always loved you. Don't give me a chance to destroy that." He pressed on his alarm button, calling the nurse. As he did, his eyes closed. Mischa stood up in shock. She looked over him, but he was still breathing, if faintly. She couldn't rouse him by name. Then one of the monitors began to sound an alarm. The nurse ran in, a doctor soon following. "Stand aside, dear!" she told Mischa with no recourse. Mischa stepped back, and watched as the two checked the old man over and finally injected something into one of his IVs which eventually stopped the monitor alarm. The old man looked peaceful, relaxed. "Is he okay?" She asked the nurse. "He's stable, but you should understand, dear, there's nothing we can do except keep him here. Are you family?" She thought for a moment, but of course she was, once. "Yes." "Well, then, you should know that he might not wake up again. If he does it would be only to say goodbye. You can wait here. We can keep you comfortable." "I might." She returned to her seat. "I'll keep him company for a moment." The nurse and doctor left Mischa alone with the old man. She opened her purse, and unzipped a small pocket where she kept the other gift that Linzie had left her in her will. It was a silvery coin, a little smaller than the old ten pence piece used to be, before coins and cash were consigned to the wastebin of history. Looking at it brought on a strange kind of pain. "I've always loved you too, Jean," she said, grasping the old man's hand. She closed her purse and stood up, leaning over to kiss him before releasing his hand. Vending machines didn't even have coin slots anymore, but outside the hospital there would be a gutter that something could roll into.