Ex-Husband Magazine. Issue 1 (Patreon)

It came in a black plastic wrapper. The postal worker had rolled it up in order to make it fit in the narrow mail slot at Malorie’s condo. The very touch of the slick, plastic wrap sent a shiver through Malorie as she wondered– could this be smut?

Why did I even think that? She wondered. She enjoyed her smut in the form of novels, having read every Fifty Shades book at least three times and even dabbled in her own fan fiction. But then, she remembered that her ex-husband, Larry, had been addicted to old school porn and “discreet” deliveries had been a common occurrence. She checked the label. She and Larry separated less than a year ago, the divorce executed at lightning speed as they both wanted it.  Once more, she felt surprised to see her name on the label– even to the point of using her reclaimed maiden name.

Heading up the stairs to her second floor unit, she passed the Lombardi’s condo– as usual, the newlyweds were screaming at each other, their bitter barrages filled with “you don’t, you never you…. You… you…”  Marital bliss, she thought sourly,  recalling many such arguments during her “blessed union.”.

She opened the door, noting with annoyance the landlord still hadn’t done anything about the peeling pain. She just wanted to give her daughter a halfway decent place to live, and the cramped, two bedroom was a steep fall from the glittering McMansion the family had shared before the divorce. As usual, Nora sat right in front of the flat screen, controlled in hand, eyes glazed as her character used whirling axes to hack apart attacking wolves, jets of blood seeming to splatter on the “camera”

“Hey, bug bean,” Malorie said, cringing at the violence her daughter was enacting.

“Hey,” Nora answered in a flat, emotionless voice.

Malorie wasn’t sure she’d seen Nora smile since the divorce. She had no idea what an a-hole her father was and had adored him. She’d been a completely different kid, playful, imaginative and creative. Now, she seemed to spend all her time glued to a screen playing these awful video games.  Old school Mom Malorie would have banned them, but feminist Mom believed girls should learn aggression and be as free as boys, and so she’d found herself trapped between beliefs and had finally just shrugged.

Her newly found circle of single mothers assured her that after some time Nora would get back to being her old self, and besides, with her work schedule keeping her from getting home until after six, Nora had hours of unsupervised time every afternoon.  There were a lot more dangerous things a tween could get into than playing video games, so it was some small consolation that she was always home and safe.

Still, seeing the shell of what her daughter had become, Malorie seethed and it fueled her hatred of her cheating, perverted husband even more. Exhausted from her long day at work, Malorie started making dinner. Despite the fact she would much rather have made microwave Mac and Cheese, she put together a healthy meal of Coconut Peanut Curry with plenty of vegetables and protein.  Her attempts to communicate with her daughter, to learn something of her life, were answered with grunts and bland noncommittal comments. Having gobbled down her food, Nora rushed back to her game, offering her mother one tidbit of information about what was on her mind: “I’m about to beat the Corpse Eaters” she revealed, with as much excitement as Nora had seen in months, which was to say not much.

And so it was some hours later, after the usual bedtime battle, that Marloie sat down with a sigh and closed her eyes, growing stressed as she faced her nightly battle with insomnia. As physically exhausted as she felt all the time, each night she tossed and turned, consumed with rage and bitter memories of her stupid husband. She knew it made no sense to live in the past, but she just couldn’t stop it, and it seemed every night she found herself checking on his dating profile on Hookups– where he’d been at least the last two years of their marriage, never even considering one of Malorie’s friends might spot him and tell her. At least his “single” status was true now.

Once more, unable to resist, she went to the kitchen table and opened her laptop, went to his profile. There was his stupid, smiling, face.  Oh, she couldn’t deny he was handsome with that granite chin, and how unfair was it his wrinkles had only made him hotter? Even when he’d started losing his hair, he’d just shaved his head and women had swooned over his giant, bald head. Malorie poured herself a glass of wine and opened his Facebook page. Great. He’d just posted pictures of himself hanging out on a beach in the South of France, a girl who couldn’t have been more than 20 hanging on his arm.

“Die!” Malorie hissed. “Just die!” Larry had flat out told her he’d lost interest when she’d gotten “old.” He said he wanted to have more kids and she was “past the age.” Right. He was just another a-hole who’d decided to trade in his wife for a younger model. And his little trip to the South of France only confirmed to Malorie that he’d hidden money to screw her over during the divorce proceedings.

She slammed the laptop shut. “I have to find something else to think about,” she said. “This is only hurting me.” And then she remembered the mysterious delivery. Maybe it was smut. She could use some inspiration. She’d been too tired lately even to get herself off.

Finding the magazine on the counter where she’d dumped all the rest of the mail– junk mail and bills, of course, she tore the plastic open and stared at the cover. It depicted a beautiful young Asian woman in lingerie, but the title of the magazine drew her away from the girl.  It read, “Ex-Husband Magazine. Revenge is a Girl’s Best Friend.”

The cover looked a lot like any woman’s magazine, with different teasers surrounding the main image. All of them seemed to revolve around the idea of turning an ex-husband into a woman.  The first read, “Turn Him Into His Own Wet Dream.” Malrie couldn’t help but chuckle– it was, it must be said, a bitter and acidic chuckle, but a chuckle nonetheless. She pictured Larry as a cute little female..  How funny would that be?

Thinking the whole thing was some kind of ironic joke– she took her glass of wine and curled up on the couch, paging through the magazine. The stories were all written as if true, relating the stories of men who’d been turned into women and forced to live women’s lives. In each case, the article emphasized how much they hated it, but had no choice but to live it. There were before and after photos, showing studly dude supposedly now reformed into in most cases ultra-feminine women obsessed with makeup and forced to wear skirts and dresses as well as in most cases the most impractical stiletto heels.

Malorie laughed and chuckled, imagining Larry’s horror when he popped out a pair of breasts and needed a bra, when he found himself obsessed with wearing lacy panties. It was all bullshit, of course, but the fantasies pleased her and seemed to calm her. If only… she thought, but then she saw ads throughout the magazine for “fixers” who promised to deliver these exact results.  There was even a guarantee in the back from the publishers that this was all real, as well as an explanation for how this had never come to public awareness. The answer in both cases amounted to “magic.”

“That was fun,” Malorie thought, heading to her bedroom. She hid the magazine under her mattress. This was not something Nora needed to see, but Malorie wanted to read some of the stories again. She slept better that night than she had in years.

Two days later, curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she found herself in the waiting room of a woman known as Tatiana The Fixer. It was waterfalls, plants and crystals– like a new age yoga studio. She only waited a moment before a pretty young woman came and got her, leading her back to an office much like the waiting room– an utterly feminine and maternal space, with faint crystal chimes playing in the background. Tatiana sat in a rattan chair, cross-legged, long, black hair flowing over her shoulders. She wore a loose, flowing dress, and all sorts of bracelets and necklaces.

“Please sit,” Tatiana said with a smile.

Malorie sat.

“So, go ahead,” Tatiana said. “Ask me.”

“Pardon?” Malorie said.

“Everyone always asks me if this is real. If I can make their ex-husband into a woman. The answer is yes. It is very real.”

“It’s hard to believe.”

“I know. There is a catch.”

“A catch?”

“I only perform my work on deserving men. Tell me about your husband, and if I agree he needs to be feminized, I’ll take your case.”

Malorie glanced back at the door. Part of her wanted to make a run for it. This was all so strange, and the word “feminizing” unnerved her. Yet, Tatiana was so– warm and friendly, and she found herself trusting her.  Instead of running, she nervously played with her hair and began to tell Tatiana all about dear Larry.

When they finished, Tatiana said, “Larry needs this.” She rang a bell, and her assistant appeared with two cups of steaming chai.

“Milk? Sugar?” The girl asked, her voice timid.

They both declined, and the girl gave a small bow and left. Malorie couldn’t help but notice how gracefully she walked– in her stilettos. “Is she?”

“Oh, yes.” Tatiana said. “Of course. Now, where would you like to begin with your husband? As you read in the magazine, we can start anywhere– body, mind. Do you have a preference?”

“Oh, yes,” Malorie said, sipping her chai. It was a delightful combination of spices. She’d been thinking about this a lot since getting the magazine. “I want him to have hips. Wide, maternal hips. Perfect for having babies.”

“I like it when a client is decisive,” Tatiana said. “You’re going to make him baby crazy?”

“When he left me one of his bullshit excuses was that he wanted children?” Malorie said. “I don’t see why I should deny him that dream.”

“May I make one suggestion?”

“Is hips the wrong place to start?”

“There is no wrong place to start. I would just suggest we also give him a slender, feminine waist so as to emphasize his hips.”

“I like that idea.”

The session ended with Tatiana giving Malorie a scrying stone. “You will be able to watch the transformation, watch him any time you please. In fact, if you’d like, you can watch and choose the perfect moment. Otherwise, I will usually do it while they sleep.”

“I really can’t believe this is real,” Malorie said, taking the smooth, black rock, all carved with what looked like Celtic runes.

“No one does until they see it,” Tatiana said. “Now give me a hug. And I want you to feel good about this.”

Chapter Two

As soon as she got home, Malorie went to her room, closed the door and took out the scrying stone. Feeling ridiculous, she whispered the incantation Tatiana on had given her, almost certain nothing would happen, but as soon as she finished the incantation the runes glowed, and suddenly she saw Larry and his bimbo in their hotel room– fucking. France was six hours ahead, so that made it– what?-- after 2 am. Tatiana had told her she could simply wish the whole change at once, and she almost did, but she held back. She wanted him to suffer maximum embarrassment. So, mildly pleased to see he was no more generous a lover than she remembered, she went to bed, planning on catching him at the beach the next day.

****

“Can’t we just sunbathe?” Georgette asked in a whiny, annoyed voice. “I want to lie out on the beach! Feel the sand!” Born in France, she was of Thai descent and had the looks of a Thai beauty. Larry loved Asian girls above all others.

“I need to try that water skiing simulator.” Larry said. He was already annoyed with his latest squeeze, and was thinking about how he could dump her and hook up with some fresh meat before he flew back to New York tomorrow. “Just wait until you see me.”

“You are no fun!”

“Come on,” Larry said, putting his arm possveily around her waist. “I’ll buy you something nice.”

“You better,” Georgette said, letting him guide her along.

Larry loved controlling women, and he decided he would lead Georgette on a bit. Then, crush her. She needed to be put in her place. Yeah, she was a hot little piece of ass, but the world was full of them.

Malorie watched it all, her fury toward Larry growing. She was quite pleased to see he’d gone with a bright green speedo. His new hips would be there for the whole world to see!

So, there Larry was on the water skis. The Ski Ride was progressive, with fairly gentle stream growing more and more intense. Larry expertly sliced through the growing waves, and a small crowd gathered, clapping at his performance. He grinned, loving all the attention, and decided to really show them something, riding up on a wave and doing a flip, landing smoothly without even a wobble.

Cheers, and Larry used one hand to wave triumphantly, keeping just one on the bar.

“Now!” Malorie decided, wishing for the first change.

She watched in delight as Larry grimaced, putting that free hand to his lower abdomen. And then, his waist pulled in dramatically, even as his hips rounded and spread,

Larry had no idea what was happening. He felt his body changing, but couldn’t understand it, only that he suddenly felt his speedo growing tight, felt the back of it sliding between his ass cheeks like a thong. “Mon dieu!” Someone shouted.

Suddenly, his balance felt completely off and Larry tumbled into the water in a crash of white foam. Popping the skis off his feet, Larry swam to the surface, smiling, wanting to show everyone that– hey, yeah, I wiped out in the end but I am still a badass. As he climbed out of the pool, however, the audience stared at his hourglass shape– the tiny waist, the womanly hips, water sluicing off his womanly figure.  It looked like he was wearing a thong, and he tugged with annoyance, trying to get it out of his butt.

People stared in confusion. Larry’s arm bumped something that had never been there, and looking down he couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw what looked almost like a shelf jutting out from beneath his waist. He flushed and dropped his eyes, not fully aware, still, of what had happened, but knowing people were looking at him like he was an alien, his moment of triumph stolen and replaced by– he couldn’t even think of a word for it.

Georgette, looking at his suddenly feminine shape in disgust, turned and left.

Mortified, Larry hurried back to the hotel. His walk felt all wrong. His legs seemed too widely spaced, somehow, and he could feel that his hips were swiveling. He kept tugging at the speedo, looking down, trying to understand what had happened. As we hurried along through the crowds, people gawked and did double-takes. No one had ever seen a man with such generous hips, such a small waist Malorie watched as he burst into the hotel room and went right to the full length mirror, his mouth dropping open, eyes bulging as they traveled down his body: a delicate rib cage now tapered dramatically to a tiny waist that looked too small to even support his upper body and then a dramatic swerve of hip, and legs spaced more widely apart, even giving him a delicious thigh gap. What he couldn’t see, but which Malorie enjoyed from looking behind him, was that his wide hips had also given him a more heart shaped, womanly ass, now with that little strap from his speedo vanishing between his cheeks.

“The fuck?” Larry said, touching his hips, feeling the soft flesh, refusing to believe they were real no matter what his eyes and hands were telling him. He turned away from the mirror, moved erratically around the hotel room, poured himself a shot of whiskey and slammed it back. Malorie loved watching how his hips changed the way he moved, swaying and swiveling, and his arms kept bumping into them, much to her amusement.

He went back to the mirror. The denial stage was coming to an end. He looked once more at his hourglass shape. “How the hell could this happen?”  He wondered, and then,  “What am I supposed to do now?”

One thing for sure, he thought, once more trying to pull the speedo out from between his ass cheeks– he needed to change. Malorie loved watching him tugging the speedo down, wiggling his hips as he struggled to pull it down past the flare of his voluptuous new  curves. Of course, his struggles had only begun as he now found that he couldn’t fit into a single pair of his old pants, not one of them making it even halfway up his new swells.

“Oh, yes. Yes,” Malorioe thought as she saw him looking at a pair of Georgette’s leggings.

Larry, sitting on the bed, his last attempted pants down around his ankles, sighed. “Men wear leggings, too,.” he mumbled. “I have to wear something, for God’s sake.” He kicked his pants off and crossed the room, picking up the leggings and letting them dangle from one hand as he looked at them in disgust. “Fuck it,” he finally said, slipping one foot daintily into the sott, stretchy fabric. The leggings were black, so it wasn’t that much of am awkward look, but what was award was when he once again had to struggle to get them over his hips, wiggling, tugging, even laying back on the bed and kicking his legs in the air as he wrestled them over his new shape.

“Get used to that, honey,” Malorie whispered, loving the sight of him looking like any girl trying to wiggle her way into a pair of too small pants. The fact that he was already wearing women’s clothes was just a bonus. Later, she would make it so he had no choice.

Georgette was a pretty girl with a nice figure, and it was terrifying for Larry as he realized his curves were now much more dramatic than hers. Finally letting the waistband snap against his skin and getting up, he pulled on a hotel robe, tying the sash tight around his newly narrow waist, took another drink and went to his laptop, typing in a search for “sudden hip expansion.”

Nothing credible came up, and he wondered if he should go to a hospital? See a doctor? But, then he would have to let people see him like this. Maybe he should wait to get back to the states? Maybe he should go right now? Larry was usually very decisive, making a quick decision and going with it right away. But he’d never experienced anything like this, he suddenly found himself utterly paralzed.

So, he poured himself a drink. And another.

“Mom? Moooooom!?” Malorie heard her daughter call from the other room. She pulled her mind away from the vision as she suddenly remembered it was early morning, and she needed to get Nora off to school and get herself to work! The usual hectic morning recommenced, and it wasn’t until hours later, when Malorie took her lunch break, that she was finally able to get back to Larry. He’d passed out and was asleep on his side, hip rising dramatically. This was no good. She wanted him out and about, and she decided to make some more changes.  Pulling the Ex-Husband Magazine out of her bag, she looked for inspiration. She smiled.

First, Larry’s six foot frame shrank down, down, until he was a perfectly adorable 5’ 6”, with narrow shoulders and pretty little arms. His skin was now smooth and hairless. Then, lush brown hair sprouted on his bald head, framing his face, pouring down his back. He still had his square jaw and big nose, thick brow, but that masculine face now found itself oddly contrasted with a clearly feminine hair style, the kinds of layers and waves that only came from a salon.  The last changes she made were to his mind.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Malorie whispered, sitting in her office, nibbling at her salad. She had less than an hour and meant to enjoy it.

Larry’s eyes fluttered open.  He sat up and put a hand to his aching head, shocked to feel thick, soft hair. Still drunk, he could only grimace, barely able to even think about it as he rolled out of bed, stumbling and catching himself, not sure why the room looked so different from his new, shorter perspective. His hands went to his hips, and he frowned as he felt them. He’d been half hoping they would just go away. Brushing the bangs from his eyes– bangs?  He yanked on the hair, thinking – oddly enough– that maybe Georgette had come back and put a wig on him after he passed out for some reason, but he felt the follicles pull at his scalp and stopped.

Just as he was about to go and check this latest impossible event out in the mirror, his eyes fell on Georgette’s suitcase. She hadn’t come back for her things yet.  But that’s not what interested Larry right now. What interested him were the clothes! They were so pretty. So sexy. He found himself going through the suitcase, touching her clothes.  He pulled out a floral bra and stared in wonder, then rubbed the cup against his cheek before doing the same with the matching panties. He shuddered as he realized he suddenly, desperately needed to wear them.

No. No. I don’t wear women’s clothes. I’m not one of those weirdos.  What the hell am I thinking?

Malorie watched him there, clothing the bra, struggling, biting his lip.  He finally threw it across the room onto the bed,sneering, “never!” then spun, hurrying  after it, eagerly slipping his arms through the straps, pulling the cups together– it had a front clasp– and fitting himself into his first bra.  Instantly, Larry felt a sense of utter relief, sighing, feeling the bra somehow made him feel complete, confident– right, somehow, but the relief lasted only a few seconds before his eyes fell to those pretty panties, silk with those little pink and powder blue flowers. He had to wear them, and this time his efforts to resist crumbled even faster as he slipped his feet through the holes, then once more found himself wiggling his hips side to side as he yanked the panties on.

“Ohhhhh!” Larry sighed with pleasure as he felt the bra across his chest, the little straps over his shoulders, the way the panties fit so snug.  It was like a full body orgasm as he blushed from head to toe, now hurrying over to the mirror, wanting to see how he looked.

“What?” Larry held out his little, feminine arms. Tiny, like a little girl’s, tipped with elegant little white hands. He saw himself as well in the cute, sexy bra and panties, shimmering silk with the little flowers, and his man swam with a messy confusion of emotions– shame, disgust, but also a thrill at how he looked, and a sense that this was what he needed, wanted.  That he would never feel happy unless he was wearing a pretty bra.

But it wasn’t right at the same time.

What’s happening to me? He thought turning side to side, admiring and cringing at the sight of himself with his little arms and dramatic hips, his bra.

Malorie watched as well, amused at the bewildered and utterly confused look on his face.

Larry pulled his hair back over his shoulders, ran a slender hand through his bangs. How had this happened? He wondered. None of it was possible, but at the same time he felt a flush of feminine pride in his long, luxurious hair. He posed some more, thinking things couldn’t get any worse.

Then, Larry looked toward the closet, his cheeks blushing as his eyes fell on Georgette’s dresses, which she ironed and hung there on the first day. So pretty, he thought, staring with delight as he slowly walked toward the closet, mesmerized. Two were tiny little scraps of cloth– mini-dresses she wore out to clubs. There was also a sleeveless sundress with a flirty skirt in a floral pattern similar to his bras. Larry slipped the dress from the hanger, fingers tingling at the touch of it, and he held it against his body, looking down. The very thought of wearing such a cute, pretty dress made him dizzy.

“Stop! Stop!” He whispered. He held the little dress in front of him.  It’s too small, he thought, saddened and encouraged by the realization. There was no way he could fit his six foot body into this hot little dress, and that was good.  Some part of him felt that if he put on this dress there would be no going back. “You’re man, goddamnit!” He growled. But then he unzipped the dress, and as if in a fever dream stepped into it, pulled it on and, yes, it was very tight around the hips, while a little wide at the waist. Feeling the hem of the dress fluttering around his thighs, Larry reached back and pulled up the zipper, the top of the dress drawing tight around his slender frame. Once more, a wave of comfort passed through him, and pleasure, a kind of thrill that he’d put on this dress, that he was wearing it.

Once more, the real Larry seethed with rage and shame, struggling to make himself take it off. To take all of these female articles off, to burn them, destroy them, to….

“I’m wearing a dress,” Larry whispered in shock, both at the reality of what he was doing as well as confusion over the fact that it seemed to fit– not the waist and hips, but the upper body, and the skirt came to about the same place on his thighs as it did on hers. He walked to the mirror, and he fell in love! It was such a pretty dress!  He giggled and grabbed the hem with both hands, pulled it out and twirled!

“What the fuck is happening?” Larry said, staring, appalled and delighted, his gorgeous brown bangs falling sexily across his eyes.  Malorie decided to give another little shock and surprise.  As he stared at himself in his sundress, he watched in amazement as his thick, manly legs rounded, becoming soft and feminine, and seemingly longer despite the fact he now, finally, realized he’d grown shorter, mush shorter, and that’s why Georgette’s dress seemed to fit.

Lunch time was almost over. Malorie would need to go. Damn, but she did make three more special changes for little Larry, and she watched, chuckling, as his eyes fell on Georgette's shoes. He was not interested at all in her heels or flats, but his eyes went wide and he practically started to drool as he stared enraptured at the sight of a sexy pair of white pumps with the prettiest floral pattern.

“Omigod,” he whispered. “They would go perfect with my dress.”

Then, “Omigod, did I just say that?”

If anything was for sure, it was that in no world would he ever put on a pair of high heels. Not Larry.

Less than a minute later, he found himself perched on his first set of heels, walking back and forth in front of the mirror, admiring how pretty they looked, and how nicely they shaped his calves. More, he felt a new sense of confidence, and an odd belief that his pretty heels, which essentially hobbled him and made him vulnerable, gave him POWER. He simply couldn’t imagine why he’d waited so long to try on a pair, and he certainly couldn’t imagine going back to boring men’s shoes.

Though, of course, he told himself he would once he got back to New York. Imagine what my secretary Kelly would say if I showed up at work in a dress and heels, he thought, tossing his hair in amusement. Would she ever be confused! Then, he looked at Georgette’s purse.

Oh, he thought, why even try and fight it? He needed that purse just like he needed a dress and heels. Besides, his mind had been consumed with a powerful need to go out– he didn’t even know where or why–and how could he go out without a purse? His dress had no pockets, so it was really just common sense. Much like a bra, there is no real male equivalent to a purse. Yes, men carry satchels and sometimes have pouches with a purse like quality, but even those often cause other men to look somewhat suspiciously upon the users. Besides that, even the most utilitarian purse has an undeniable feminine energy.

So, of course, once more the core Larry, the Larry that had lost control but was there inside watching, withered at the thought of carrying a purse. He would never even hold his wife’s or girlfriend’s purse for her, so concerned was he with maintaining his macho persona at all times. So, he strained to stop himself as he felt himself reaching for that purse– it was of virginal white leather, with a gold clasp, and a slender, bra-like strap that looked like it would snap at even the slightest attempt by a purse snatcher. Larry had always been amused at how impractical most female things were, from their heels to their handbags, and yet now he found himself utterly obsessed with everything he found silly and feminine.

He picked up the purse and slipped the delicate little strap over his pretty, round little shoulder. He couldn’t resist the urge to take one last look in the mirror at his now complete outfit– his mind once more in turmoil between “you look like a fool” and “this outfit is so cute!” The only thing that really bothered him was how out of place his thick, masculine features now looked, both because he wasn’t pretty, and because someone might recognize him.  How terrible would it be, he thought to himself, if someone saw him wearing a dress and knew he was a man?

Which is when he heard the lock beep, heard the door unlock.  He froze, heart racing. The door opened and Georgette took one look and froze. “Quelle?” Georgette said, staring at the woman wearing HER DRESS, and HER shoes. She started into the room, meaning to slap the bitch, but when the woman turned it was, she looked just like– “Larry?”

Larry, clutching his purse to his chest, backed away, mincing on his heels, wanting to die, wishing he could hide. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said.

Georgette, getting over the shock, shrugged. “You like to cross-dress. No surprise.” She went to the closet to get her remaining dresses, putting them into a dress bag. Georgette was a very open minded, free-spirit, which Larry would have known had he ever asked her about herself. She was friends with several female impersonators back in Paris, and had helped a few newly out transgender girls to learn how to do their makeup. So, Larry’s revelation did not shock or disturb her.  He’d seemed like a butch dude, and she’d just been looking for a good fucking from an asshole, which was why she’d put up with his shit. But, somehow or another, she always seemed to end up with guys who loved wearing women’s clothes. She began to gather her makeup from the bathroom.

Larry retreated behind the bed, at least getting some shelter.  He put the purse down, stepped away from it like it was a rattlesnake.  “I’ve never done this before,” he said. “I swear.  Then, desperate, ”Please don’t tell anyone.”

“It is okay,” Georgette said. “Your secret is safe.” Packed, she zipped up her suitcase. “I will tell no one.”

Seeing her packing up, Larry almost did not mention that he was wearing her dress, her heels. But, it felt wrong, and he didn’t want her to get angry later and out him. “Oh, these are your things, I’ll-”

“Keep them,” Georgette said. “Consider them my parting gift.” She looked over Larry, and other than his face, she struggled to believe she’d spent a couple days with this man. Not only had she been so drunk she’d failed to notice those hips, but now looking at his delicate, soft little arms? And she could have sworn he was taller than her, but he was actually slightly shorter. I must have been drugged, she thought, because Larry was built like a woman, and those pretty little arms didn’t happen by accident. The poor little thing had to have avoided doing any upper body exercise at all to keep them so lithe.

Larry felt himself once more flush with pleasure. He loved this dress, his new heels, and it had pained him to even think of parting with them. “Thanks,” he mumbled, stunned at how much he appreciated this beautiful girl gifting him such a perfect little dress.

“Bye, girlfriend,” Georgette said. “Be good.”

And with that she was gone, leaving behind only the heavenly scent of her perfume, a delicate balance of odors that sang of femininity. Before when Larry smelled it, he’d gotten all kinds of of horny, but now he suddenly needed it, so bad. His whole life seemed to depend on getting that perfume! He raced to the door, poked his head out. “Georgette!” He called, his pleading voice full of desperation. “That scent? What is it called? I simply must have it!”

Georgette smiled. He was such a girl! “Guerlaine, Bloom of Rose!” She called, blowing him a kiss and then heading down the hall.

“Yes!” Larry thought with delight. Yes, yes! He would find it. He would have it!

Later, Larry having snuck out of the hotel, hiding behind the curtains of the hair that now framed his ugly face, clicked along through the downtown market of the little beach town outside the resort. His first time “out” in a dress, he felt a combination of embarrassment and a strange kind of power and amusement at his secret. He had come out following a compulsion to search– for what he didn’t know, so as he walked he took in the people and window shopped, his eyes drawn only to the windows of shops featuring women’s clothes, which suddenly all seemed to die for.

He didn’t, yet, feel the compulsion to buy anything or even to try them on, but the gazing at these pretty clothes had him buzzing. And then, he saw IT: a window full of earrings and jewelry, and a sign that read percer les oreilles. Pierced ears? No. He couldn’t.

But he had no choice. Larry had thought he’d move about the town anonymously, just a boy in a dress that no one needed to know anything about. Now, looking through the shop window, he saw two pretty young women chatting. They wore smocks and looked like workers. They were cute, and Larry would have hit on them for sure only a day ago. Could he really face them now, dressed like this? He was nowhere near the man he’d been, the man he still felt himself to be within.

But, he needed earrings. He couldn’t feel complete without them. Clutching his purse tight to his ribcage, he took a deep breath and strode into the store. The girls checked out the new customer, who to their eyes looked like a woman with those hips and little white arms, and she had killer legs and seriously gorgeous hair. But, that face? They did not betray their feelings, smiling brightly and welcoming her in French.

Larry, struggling with shame, asked if they spoke Anglais. His deep, whiskey hardened voice was almost enough to get a reaction from the girls, but they were true professionals, admitting they did speak some English, and utterly destroying the stereotype of the rude French who disdained English speakers.  Instead, Larry found himself welcomed warmly, the girls fussing over him as he chose his earrings. He couldn’t believe what he was doing, and soon found himself sitting, unable to stop smiling with delight, as the girls pierced his ears– three on each side.

Malorie, getting off her break, tuned in just in time to see Larry, his hair pulled back, turning his head side to side, admiring the large golden hoops dangling from each lobe as well as the two other little studs glittering at the sides of his ears. The tiny little gem in his nose flashed as he turned his head as well.  He had a pleased smile on his face, like any female thrilled at her new jewelry, but she knew to look deeper, seeing the pain in back of the eyes as Larry somehow deep inside screamed with rage over what was becoming of him.

“You’re going to be desperate to find a man once you go baby crazy,” Malorie whispered. “And those sexy earrings just might help. You can thank me later, sister!” She was already starting to think of Larry as a woman.

She was just on a fifteen minute break, but she knew what was coming next, and she did not want to miss it. She would get a couple things done at her desk and then the bathroom stall would be a good place to watch Larry’s next humiliation. On her way back to her desk, she happened to pass the boss, Jane Smith. “Miss Smith,” Malorie said, worried she was about to get some shit for taking a break. She tried to hurry past.

Miss Smith reached out and touched Malorie’s arm, stopping her. “Malorie,” she said.

Oh, shit.

“I just wanted to say I’ve noticed a change in you. I see you smiling, happy, and you are getting more work done than ever. Way to go! I like the new you. I’m glad to see you finally putting that unpleasantness behind you.”

Malorie couldn’t help but smile as she thought about the “unpleasantness” in his dress and heels, his purse dangling from his forearm. “Well, no sense living in the past, right?”

“That’s the spirit.”

Larry, meanwhile, clicking along in his pretty heels, found the whole experience of walking had become an adventure in femininity. In addition to being perched on heels and the sway of his full hips, he felt his long hair bounce with each step, and he was required to brush it away from his eyes regularly with a gentle little wave of his tiny hand. His hoop earrings bounced as well, brushing against his cheeks, reminding him constantly of his new look. His short dress left much of his shapely new legs bare, and he felt the warm summer air against his smooth thighs, and an occasional breeze even seemed to find its way up his skirt, filling him a constant anxiety that his dress might blow up at some point, Marily Monroe style, and the whole world would get a glimpse of his panties.

He remembered only a day before arrogantly striding along, pants, shirt, big and muscular, feeling like he owned the world. Now, shorter, smaller, made vulnerable by his heels and clothes, he felt– ? Feminine didn’t fully fit the bill. He felt a sense of pretty helplessness. Everything about him now conveyed to the world he was soft and sweet and needed to be protected.  He looked, he realized with a small gasp, that he looked exactly like the kind of woman he found attractive. What disturbed him most of all was that he found himself liking that feeling. I better head back to the hotel, he decided. Strip out of all of this and get back to being a man. He pictured himself in a robe, glass of whiskey in hand, watching some rough porn, back in his own body, living his own life. Yes, that was just the thing.

And then he saw the nail salon.

He looked at his pretty, soft little hands. His nails were ragged. He’d never taken care of his nails, chewing them. They looked gross. Any girl who saw his nails would look down on him, think he was disgusting. That would not do, and just like that Larry found himself consumed with the desire to have long, perfect fingernails, worried about how women would judge him if he wasn’t put together. He had very little fight left and plunged into the nail salon eager and excited.

Malorie tuned in just in time to see Larry in a salon chair sipping lemon water, legs crossed demurely, one heel dangling from his delicate foot. He had great ankles, she noticed, even as she delighted in the sight of him holding one hand out, bent at the wrist, as a girl worked on his nails, applying nail extensions to each one of his slender, feminine fingers.

As for Larry, he had never expected to feel such pure pleasure getting his nails done. It was delightful, and he would have to drink more lemon water. It was nice to just be among girls, and even if he didn’t have enough French to really hold a conversation, he felt a pleasant buzz being around these sweet, smiling, feminine women.

Still, he was determined to tear all of this off one he got home, his bro’s night in still firmly in mind. Whiskey and porn. He had a flight tomorrow, and he could hardly get on the plane looking like this. The nails, the earrings, it would all have to come off, and he determined to find some pants that fit to wear on the plane. There would be no more dresses for Larry. I got this out of my system, he told himself. The girl finished with his right hand. He held it up, moving his fingers, admiring the way the red polish shone, catching the light. I have an iron will, he told himself– they do look so pretty!-- and Larry is all man!

On his way back to the hotel, head still full of his masculine fantasy, he passed a lingerie shop.

When Malorie checked in later that day just before work ended– sometime close to 11PM in France, she found Larry sitting on his bed in a black teddy. His pretty legs were tucked under him, and there was a half eaten box of chocolates on the bed beside him, and a glass of wine on the nightstand. He was crying, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a tissue, plucking from a box that rested next to the chocolates. On the screen, Pretty Woman.

“Don’t worry, girl,” Malorie thought, pleased at Larry’s progress. “You’ll find a man one day. Or, at least a sperm donor.”

There were shopping bags lined up neatly on the dresser. Larry had, indeed, gone shopping for his plane flight back to New York, but he hadn’t been able to make himself buy pants, not even from the women’s department, where the only ones that could fit his new shape could be found. He’d found himself consumed with pride at his gorgeous new legs, and it would be a crime to hide them. So, fighting the urge every little step of the way, he’d bought himself a new dress, heels, some bracelets and necklaces. After all, there would be women on the flight, and he couldn’t stand the thought of any of them questioning his fashion sense.

Larry got help with his luggage the next day from the bellhop. His suitcase was so heavy! Plus, he was terrified he might break a nail. Once more, he felt a new thrill in being pretty and helpless, having men do things for him because he was such a girl! When he approached customs and showed the man his passport, he got a double take. “Are you sure you are Larry Stick?” The man said, in British inflected English. The face looked similar, but Larry’s flowing, luxurious hair and feminine hoops earrings gave him a different context and left some doubt.

“I am,” Larry said in a whisper, not wanting the other girls– he meant to think girls– hear his rumbling, ugly voice. Larry was now feeling embarrassed by his lingering vestiges of masculinity– the face, the voice. Those plus his flat chest were all that was left, and they were seeming more and more wrong. He thought constantly now of what other women would think of him, and more, he felt competitive with women, wanting to be prettier than anyone.

“I am so sorry, but you do not look the same as this picture.” The agent carefully avoided using any terms like sir or madam. He was aware that gender was fluid and more and more people were embracing different gender identities. Yet, he had a duty to perform.

Larry tapped his long nails against the counter, trying to figure out how to convince this man and move on. He was sure the people in line behind were getting annoyed. An idea occurred to him. He set his purse on the counter and pulled his hair back. “See?”

“Ah, yes,” the man said. “Well, have a good flight. You certainly found yourself in France!”

Larry wanted to tell the man to go to hell. Found myself, he thought? I lost myself! But instead, some new compulsion made him smile and say, “Merci!”

Boarding the plane brought new humiliation. The aisles were too narrow for his new hips, and after bumping into a few chairs, he ended up turning sideways and scooching down to his seat. Then, when he tried to sit down, he once more found his hips a problem. When he tried to lower himself into his seat, a slightly more challenging maneuver in heels than it had been last time he’d gotten on a plane, he found that his hips now landed squarely on the arm rests.  “What the hell?” Larry murmured, thinking there was something in the seat blocking him from sitting. He stood, looked back over his shoulder to see the seat empty, then after a moment of confusion he realized HE was the problem, or at least part of him. Come on, he thought, trying to wiggle his way past the arm rests so he could actually sit in the chair. “Who designs these things, anyway?” He grumbled.

“It had to be a man,” the woman at the window seat said.

“Amen,” Larry murmured.

A man moving down the aisle chuckled at the sight of what he took to be a woman trying to fit her fat ass into the perfectly normal seat. “Time for a diet,” he said, as he passed.

“Excuse me?” Larry said, finally plopping down into the seat, but feeling compressed, trapped, wondering if he would even be able to get up if he needed to. Thank God the airplane bathrooms were unisex at least. He didn’t even know whether to go into the male or female at this point.

“Jerk,” the woman at the window said. Then, wanting to make the poor woman feel better, she said, “I love your earrings.”

“Oh,” Larry said, flush with pleasure at the compliment and putting one hand next to one of his hoops, like a model framing it for a photo. “You’re sweet.” Looking at the woman, his eyes got wide and he felt the most powerful attraction, utterly falling in love– with her necklace. He barely even noticed the soft swell of cleavage the necklace rested on. “Where,” he heard himself gush, “did you get that gorgeous necklace?”

What the hell am I saying? Doing? The old Larry railed. I should be with that guy making fun of fat bitches! But, who was he kidding? He was far more interested in finding out where he could get such a pretty necklace!

Chapter Three

Malorie tuned in to watch. Nora was raiding a monastery or something in the living room,  chopping up more people with her ax. So, Malorie had retreated to her bedroom and was idly watching Larry while paging through Ex-Husband Magazine, plotting the next changes.

Larry ended up having two glasses of wine, popping some Benadryl he’d stashed in his purse, and then sleeping through most of the flight. He’d timed the flight back so he’d get into NYC around 6, so he got through customs and found himself climbing out of an UBER at his apartment building around 8.  It was a very different Larry who stood in front of his building on the Upper West Side than the one who’d left, and standing there in his dress and heels, clutching his purse, he decided he would just have to face the music. Pulling his suitcase along, the sound of the wheels rolling across the pavement joining the incessant clicking of his high heels, he walked up to the door man, who stood near the brass doors, under the awning.

Mario looked down at the woman approaching him. I’d do her body, he thought, checking out her legs, but she’d have to wear a bag over her head. Must be a visitor, he decided. She looked familiar. He prided himself on remembering names, and it annoyed him he couldn’t recall this one, though he knew her for sure.

“Hey, Mario,” the woman said in a deep, rough voice, and Mario made the connection.

“Larry?” He said in shock.

“Yeah, yeah,” Larry said, not even bothering to hide his embarrassment. “I know. Been a long day, how about just letting me in?”

“Sure thing, Larry,” Mario said, recovering himself and going to open the door, holding it as he always did for his residents. “How was the trip?”

“How the hell do you think?” Larry said, his old self winning the fight for a change.

“Well, welcome home.”

Larry didn’t answer. He went to the elevators, just hoping not to see anyone else. It was a rare win for him when he managed to make it to his apartment without running into anyone he knew, and as soon as he slammed the door behind him he sighed with relief, slipping out of his pumps and massaging his calves.

Malorie chuckled. He never had appreciated the sacrifice a woman made when she wore heels, and he had constantly demanded she wear them. Well, now the Jimmy Choos were on the other little foot!

Larry had put together an extremely masculine apartment– dark wood panels, bourbon colored leather furniture, a full bar, humidor, and the heads of various animals he’d claimed to have hunted perched high on the walls, looking down at it all. Larry’s fantasies of returning to a masculine identity returned. Yes. He was back in his man cave, and he would smoke a cigar, drink some whiskey that would burn as it went down his throat like fire and he would load up some nasty porn and get himself off. He even knew the video– a hot asian girl, and he would skip to the scene where the guy grabbed her hair, bent her over and rode her hard, then slapped her on the ass and kicked her out of his apartment wearing only a towel.

Larry loved that video, and he had a thing for Asian girls. That’s me, Larry told himself. The real me. He looked around his testosterone laced apartment once, nodding in satisfaction. Thai was a man’s apartment, and it was–

Malorie made a change.

“Totally gross!” Larry said. Ugh. Dead animals? What was I thinking? And it’s sooo dark. This room needs some light and some color!

Larry felt like a piece of him had just been cut away. No. Please. But he was getting to the point he couldn’t even fight all these new feelings. Why bother? He lost every time. Fuck. He thought about smoking, drinking, watching porn. He was almost sure it wasn’t going to happen, but he at least had to try. First, though, he would change. He wasn’t even surprised when he found himself compelled to slip into his teddy once more, as well as a sheer, diaphanous and semi-transparent robe.

Malorie decided on a few more changes. The thought of drinking straight whiskey seemed disgusting to Larry, so he made himself a cosmo. Then, going to his humidor, he found one of the petite cigars he sometimes offered interested ladies– it was flavored vanilla, before curling up on the coach and starting the porn. Maybe I can at least enjoy something me, he thought, sipping his cosmo, noticing how pretty his nails looked against the crystal glass.

The porno started, and Larry skipped to the beginning of the sex scene. The girl, her name as Amy, was just entering the apartment wearing a red, off the shoulder dress, and her hair was up in a dramatic kind of messy bun, with strands hanging down either side of her radiant cheeks.

Malorie made a change.

Larry paused the video. How does she get her hair like that? He wondered, even as he admired her perfect skin and that amazing dress. In a rush, he realized he had no idea how to style his hair, and he needed to know more than anything in the world right now. Leaving the video paused, he went to his computer, pulled up videos and started to learn everything he could about different hairstyles and how to achieve them. Frantic, feverish, he found himself ordering all sorts of clips and pins and brushed to be delivered– and you could have anything delivered in an hour in NYC- and soon he stared with pride and delight at his high, messy bun, strands of hair curling on either side of his face. His hair looked just like Amy’s, and he felt confident and powerful. I can do anything with this hair, he thought, taking a sip of his second cosmo.  He couldn’t wait to learn a French braid!

Feeling more complete, Larry went back to the porn, only he had a very different need to fulfill. Winding it back to the entrance, he watched the way Amy held her arms, the way she moved, walked, tilted her head. She was so elegant and graceful! Without even realizing it, he stood, imitating the way she held her arms, the way she walked. He stopped each time they were about to have sex, rewound, practiced being Amy again and again.

Malorie watched it all, amused. She knew from Tatiana that somewhere in that ever more feminine little creature was her disgusting ex-husband, Larry, screaming as his manhood was stripped from him. Finally, she let him watch the sex scene. Larry identified utterly with Amy, imagining it was him having his dress torn off, him having that man grab his hair and yank, twist his arm and force him to bend over.

Larry felt his mouth grow dry as he idly played with one of the little straps of his teddy. What a jerk, he thought, watching the scene, the way that man he– oh!-- just pounded Amy. It was so selfish! He didn’t care at all about getting her off! Plus, there was no story at all.

“Disgusting!” He said as he turned the video off.

But he went to sleep imagining himself in the scene- as Amy, of course.

The next morning, Larry knew he had no choice but to face the music at the office. He’d just come off a week’s vacation. He ran his own consulting business, and there was only one employee– Jane Lake, a gorgeous young milf of Chinese descent, of course. Having her see him like this made him feel sick. He’d hired her because she was hot as hell, and he’d been flirting and playing mind games on her for months, getting her ready to fuck her. Now? What would she think when he showed up in a dress and heels? Maybe he should just tell her to take the day off?

But, no, he decided, as he shaved his legs. For now, he would just have to go ahead until he could find some way, if there even was a way, to undo all of what had happened. He didn’t even know where to start. None of this seemed possible. Shaving his armpits, he slipped into his bra and panties, before steaming any wrinkles from his dress. If he couldn’t walk into the office as a man, he sure was not going to walk in as a poorly dressed woman. Grabbing his phone before heading out, he did tap out a message to Amy: There have been some changes. See you soon.

Amy was at her desk, going through the week’s schedule when her phone buzzed. Changes? She didn’t like the sound of that. Her eyes went to the pictures of her daughter– at birth, six months and then her 1 year birthday party. She was such a sweet girl. Amy pretty much hated working for Larry– he was always perving on her–  but she’d stuck with the job for her child. She planned on sending out some resumes once she reached a year, so it wouldn’t seem like she was job hopping. Besides, the offices of Manhattan were full of Larry-types, and not all of them were men.

Malorie had found time to watch it all. Her boss was being super nice, she was sleeping better and being more productive than ever, so she felt confident in sneaking away from her desk for these little vignettes.

The lobby was arranged so that when a client walked in, Amy’s desk was on the opposite end of a long, rectangular room with comfortable chairs, coffee and snacks. So, when the door opened, Amy saw Larry from a distance as he stepped into the room, brushing one of the strands from his messy bun away from his cheek.

Amy’s mouth fell open. Was this some kind of joke? Larry in a knee length black dress, heels, a purse dangling from his forearm, hoop earrings flashing? It must be a prank, she decided. One of Larry’s mind games. The only thing about this curvaceous woman that was Larry was that face. Amy watched as she started to walk across the room. She held her arms out in a very feminine manner, and her walk in those heels was so graceful– could that really be Larry? Wasn’t he taller.

She now stood in front of Amy’s desk.  Amy, despite her epic professionalism, had a shocked look on her face as she scanned this mysterious female– delicate little bracelet, pretty necklace, and a perfect manicure now clutching the strap of her fashionable purse. “I told you there had been changes,” Larry said in his masculine growl.

Hearing his voice, Amy suddenly accepted that this feminine creature was, indeed, Larry, though she couldn’t understand how. Maybe he was wearing hip pads? But how to explain the slender little waist, accentuated by the cute little belt with the heart shaped buckle?

“Listen,” Larry said, mortified both in standing before a woman he’d hoped to nail utterly feminized, as well as slightly annoyed she had NOT said anything about his outfit, “I don’t have time to explain. Let’s just get to work like everything is normal? Can we do that?”

“Of course,” Amy said, snapping out of her stunned state. “Um, yes. Of course.”

“I’ll be in my office,” Larry said, but as he started to move past Amy, Malorie made another key change. Out of the corner of his eyes, Larry saw the pictures of Amy’s baby. He stopped, turned and stared. “Omigod,” he gushed. “She’s getting so big! Oh, she’s just a doll!”

Amy smiled. Larry had faked an interest in her life since she’d started, but hearing him now, he sounded like a woman and his enthusiasm disturbingly real. “I’m very proud of her,” she said, not really sure how to respond.

Larry put his heart to his chest. “You’re so lucky. I want to have a baby one day.” The words stunned Larry. He couldn’t believe what he’d just said, and he couldn’t believe how much he felt it. He wanted to have a baby? Not father a child, but have one?  Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile. “That sounded a little weird. I’ll, um, be in my office?”

“Okay,” Amy said.

“Normal,” Larry said, as he opened his office door. “Let’s just pretend everything is normal?”

“Right, chief,” Amy said, no longer sure if she should call him “mister.”

Larry plunged into his office– gross! Another space in need of redecorating! Sitting at his desk, he put his head in his hands. Thank God that was over. He turned his attention to his In Box, and started answering emails from his clients. Malorie made one more change. This time a slow change.

All morning, Larry couldn’t understand why his chest was aching. When Amy left for her lunch break, he eschewed his usual routine of heading over to the club for a steak and a Jack Daniels, instead spending the hour shopping. He would need at least five outfits for work, and so much more lingerie!

The next morning, the mystery behind Larry’s aching chest was made plain. He woke to discover he now had a pair of perky little breasts. He was mortified both that he now had tits, and that they were so small. He cupped them, squeezed them, ran his thumb over the puffy, brown nipples, which instantly stiffened, poking out like proud little soldiers at attention. Oh, that did feel good, but he was surprised at how sensitive his breasts were, despite having heard that from women his whole life. He was so distracted by his bouncy new tits, he didn’t even notice his ass had gotten more plump and inviting until he had put on one of his new work dresses and turned to the side to check out his profile. It was utterly female, with the thrust of his new breasts, the sway of his back and lithe waist, and then the dramatic rise of his plump new rear end.

The whole time he’d been getting ready, he’d been thinking about Nora. He really needed to show her more attention, and as much as he hated Malorie, he should do more to support them. What kind of mother am I? He wondered, to abandon my daughter like this? I mean, dad, he told himself, as he struggled to fit his new breasts into his bra. It was too small, he realized. He would get some new ones. I am her Dad, he reminded himself, tossing his hair. Her Dad.

Walking to work, he sensed guys checking out his ass, saw eyes drop to his breasts. He supposed he was probably going to have to get used to it. Men!

Amy was much more composed today, and barely even allowed herself to notice that her boss now had a nice little rack. She wondered if he had stuffed his bra. As shocked as she’d been at his change, he’d actually been a lot sweeter and easier to work with.  The pressure of his constant attention was gone, replaced by an almost maternal manner that was quite easy to get used to.

As for Larry, he was scheduled to see a new client today, and it was one he wanted badly. Harry Lance, one of the wealthiest investors in New York, with a dozen ventures all ripe for Larry to come in and make more efficient– for a very steep fee, of course.

A new feeling came over Larry as he stood in front of the full length mirror in his office, teasing his hair, making sure his elegant black dress remained lint free: Insecurity. Meeting with a male client, or really any man, for the first time, Larry had previously been keen to project an air of power. Subdued, dark suits, a thick banded hunk of steel on his wrist as a watch, some stubble on his face to project casual confidence and masculinity.

Now, he felt different. He had begun to feel powerful in his feminine attire, and mastering hairstyles and walking in heels had given him great confidence. But now, thinking about facing another man with his dress stretched tight against perky breasts, the heavy watch replaced by a darling little bracelet, the necklace that dangled from his neck and nestled in his cleavage, as if he were demanding the eye be drawn to his puppies? He felt like a bauble, that he no longer projected the same power, but a power of pretty. Looking at his sleek little bare arms, he rolled his eyes. They practically screamed– I am no threat to you. You could easily dominate me.

New to this feminine world, his head danced with doubt about his outfit. He should have worn a different dress, the earrings were too much, his bracelets too little. His belt? His heels? If only he’d had more time to shop! Worst of all, his face. It was so manly, and it totally distracted from his outfit. He wished, in spite of himself, he had a pretty face like Amy, with her small shin, high cheekbones, that perfect, radiant skin!

Larry had worked himself into a tizzy of feminine insecurity when his intercom buzzed and Amy announced, in her sexy, receptionist’s voice, “Mr. Stick is here.”

Oh, no! No. No. No! “Send him in,” he said, feeling himself starting to hyperventilate as he struggled to decide whether he should be sitting behind his desk when Stick entered, waiting at the door, maybe in front of his desk, leaning against it, showing off his legs? He turned and started toward his desk, turned back, spun in a circle unable to make a decision.

Too late! The door opened. Stick walked in. Larry fell into a feminine pose, one hand on his hip, one knee slightly bent. His mind had suddenly focused on something else entirely than his outfit and demeanor. That might have been good, but for the fact he was stunned as he looked at Harry Stick– the man was a hunkl! He was tall, so tall! Rugged faced, with, Larry couldn’t help but notice, the prettiest green eyes! He wore a suit, but so tight Larry couldn’t help but imagine the chiseled physique underneath. Larry’s hand went to his necklace, and he started toying with it, staring, star struck at this man.

Harry smiled as he watched this little woman get all frazzled at the sight of him. He was used to it, of course, with his looks. He’d seen it a thousand times. Seeing she was at an utter loss for words, he stepped forward to save her. Putting out his hand, he met Larry’s eyes and said,  “Harry Stick. A pleasure to meet you.”

Larry had to tilt his head waaaay back to look up at the man, and he felt a sudden delight in being so small. He reached out his own tiny hand, meaning to offer his strongest, manly grip. Old habits die hard. Harry went for the double handshake, wrapping both of his big, calloused hands around Larry’s and squeezing.

“Great to meet you,” Larry said in an almost whisper, trying to lighten his voice. “I’m Harry. Oh, I mean Larry.”

“You’re nervous,” Harry said, his voice full of kindness. He put a hand on the small of Larry’s back and steered him toward his desk. “If it helps, I have already decided to give you my business. I just like to meet my potential hires, make a personal connection.”

Larry’s heart swelled with gratitude. What a gentleman! Larry felt so relieved this man was taking charge, making things easy for him– almost, no he was, protecting Larry. The next thought was inevitable as it was new: I bet he’s a great father!

Larry didn’t even remember the meeting when it had ended, Harry Stick stepping out of the office with a wave and a, “I am looking forward to seeing you again.”

As soon as the door closed, Larry’s knees went weak and he had no choice but to fall against Amy, who was standing at his side. She caught him, delighted, surprised, and yet not surprised at the new Larry. “He is quite the stud, isn’t he?” She said.

Larry, sighing, hooked his hair behind his ear, and his lingering masculine alarm bells ringing, forced himself not to agree. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said, stepping away from Amy. “I need a minute.”

I bet you do, Amy thought, finding it cute Larry was crushing on Harry, and that he was still embarrassed to admit it. He thinks he’s hiding it, she thought. Adorable.

Back in the office, breathing hard, Larry checked himself out in the mirror, thanking God for his bra. His nipples had been rock hard since the moment Harry walked in the door, and he was thankful the stiff cups had hidden his– excitement. Meanwhile, Larry’s little head was spinning as he found himself consumed with yet another terrifying thought and need: he wanted to have Harry’s baby. He could only imagine what a gorgeous child they would have together.

Malorie was pleased with the scene, and even more so when she got a tearful email from Larry later that day, all about how terrible he felt about how he’d treated Malorie and their daughter, Nora. I am going to instruct my lawyer to arrange a better settlement, he finished, and I want to start taking advantage of my visitation rights.

It was welcome news. Malorie had toyed with the idea of letting Larry know she was the one doing this, essentially blackmailing him into doing the right thing. And here he’d just done it on his own. It almost made her feel guilty, but Tatiana had explained to her this might happen. “Remember, if he does seem like a better person, it’s the spell. Larry is still Larry, and if you let him turn back into what he was, he will be what he was.”

“But, is it right to change someone like this?”

“You made him a better man,” Tatiana said. “Don’t overthink it.”

Back in his office, Larry made a decision. He would work with what he had. He went out to see Amy, once more gazing fondly at her adorable little girl. “Can you make me an appointment for a facial?” He said, casually, trying to sound like it was just an everyday, offhand request.

“Of course,” Amy said. “I know the perfect spa. Maybe a mani-pedi while you’re at it?” She offered, half teasing.

Larry remembered how much he’d enjoyed his manicure. He looked at his nails. They could always use some touching up? “That sounds wonderful,” he said, going back to his office. Hey, he figured, might as well pamper myself. And maybe it would help calm him down after his meeting with Harry, which had left him utterly frazzled and full of anxiety.

At the spa, Larry found himself surrounded by women, all of whom he sized up, comparing their bodies to his. Soon, he had a soft towel wrapped around his body, from just above his breasts down to just below his leg gap. His hair tied up in a towel, as he lay back on a warm, soft bed. “This is my first facial, believe it or not,” Larry admitted. In the background, the sound of waterfalls, and the distant voices of women, chanting.

“Just lay back and relax,” the young woman said. “When this is done, you’ll feel like a whole new person.”

Malorie decided the time was perfect for one of the last changes. As Larry lay back, the beautician covering his face with warm mud, she made the change. Larry’s square chin flowed into a delicate little point, his nose melted into a tiny hint, his cheeks rose and his eyes widened and changed.

Later, as she cleared off the mud, the beautician gasped.

“What is it?” Larry said, terrified there had been some mistake, that the facial had made him look even worse, shocked that when he’d spoken he’d sounded like a little girl. “Did you do something to my throat?” He asked, a slender hand going to his neck, which he couldn’t see but was now long and swan-like.

“I don’t know,” the girl said, cleaning the rest off, stunned by the gorgeous face, immediately jealous of Larry’s long, thick, curling lashes, blinking in surprise. “This has never happened.”

“Let me see?” Larry said, sitting up, tugging at the top of the towel, which had threatened to slip down and expose his breasts. The confused and startled beautician found a hand mirror, handed it to him.

Larry looked, froze, stared. He was– pretty? “Is that me?” He said, holding the mirror in one hand, putting another against his cheek, his red nails bright against his now coffee and cream skin. He looked like he could be Amy’s sister. “How?”

“I don’t know,” the girl answered. She thought to call the manager. There had been no training for what to do when a client somehow got a whole new face. “I’m sure there is some way we can fix this.”

“Fix? No,” Larry said, smiling, turning his face this way and that, staring in wonder. Yes, Larry was gone now. His rugged good looks vanished. But he was sooo pretty, and he couldn’t help but wonder, do I have a chance with Harry now?

That night, Larry sat at his newly arranged dressing table as he brushed mascara onto those long lashes. As soon as he was done, he smiled and batted his lashes, “You think I’m pretty?” He said, adoring his new voice. Then, he chose some eyeshadow, watched the make-up video again, and began to apply and blend different colors. There was nothing more important to him right now than learning to do his make-up. Of course, he thought, glowing with feminine pride, it’s not like I need it.

. “Ow!” He put his hand to his belly. These cramps just wouldn’t stop. It must have been the smoothie he’d had for dinner, he decided, but no matter. He was just too busy admiring how pretty he was now and mastering his makeup skills. His eyes looked amazing with the eyeliner, smokey eyeshadow and mascara. Now, he thought, picking up a lipstick wand, dabbing on the pearly red paint, and starting to apply it to his plump, kissable lips, let’s go! He didn’t even feel the next cramp, so focused was he on just how amazing his mouth looked.

Larry had to get up extra early the next day. It took so much longer to get ready as a woman! Guys had no idea. But, before he could even get into his routine of shaving his legs, doing his hair, his makeup, Larry was stunned to discover a rust colored stain on his sheets. “What the hell?” He said. “Did I cut myself? Why am I bleeding?”

As he probed his body, trying to find the wound, his fingers brushed across what felt like a slit? “Where’s my junk?” He squealed, searching frantically for his manhood. “Omigod!” His fingers found only an empty space, his vulva, and when one finger slipped between the new lips of his vagina, he began to cry. They were tears of horror and sadness, as the formerly macho man confronted the fact he now had a woman’s body, fully. And they were tears of joy as he realized what the blood stain meant. He’d had his first period, and that meant he could have a baby now.

Larry, the old Larry, who’d been swept along in his transformation, now panicked. He couldn’t be a woman. He was a man. He couldn’t let some guy fuck him, plant his seed in him. This was all wrong, and he wouldn’t stand for it. He was still a man. Still. And he would fight this, despite the fact it was – what was happening to him was impossible!

He began to think about who might want to turn him into a woman. Yes, maybe a few business rivals, but there was only one person who’d ever hated him enough to destroy his life, take his identity. That person was his ex-wife, Malorie.

“Get ready, bitch,” he screamed, rising from his bed. “I’m coming for you, and I am coming hard! You’re going to find out what kind of man I am!”

“But first,” he said, “I need a Tampon.”

Chapter Four

The whole way over to Malorie’s office, Larry had envisioned the scene he was about to make. He would shove open the door, and when the secretary got up, he would shove past her screaming, “Bitch! Show yourself!” Then, he would knock the water cooler over and stomp his way to her office, where she would no doubt be cringing in terror, all her stunned co-workers gathering to watch while Larry fucked her up.

The reality turned out to be very different. Though seething with rage, Larry couldn’t possibly let the other women see him acting all dramatic and hormonal. What would they think? Thankful these were automatic doors– he was constantly surprised how many buildings had big, heavy doors hard for a girl like him to open– he pushed the button, then adjusted his purse and strode gracefully into the office, his hair bouncing prettily.

“Hi,” the receptionist said. He was a young, buff guy. Cute, Larry thought, but a receptionist? No way he could provide for a child.

“Hi,” Larry said sweetly, smiling a bright, winning smile, sucking in his cheeks slightly to enhance his dimples. It was a trick he learned on Youtube. “I’m here so see Malorie?”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Larry said, shaking his head, crinkling his nose. “Maybe you can squeeze me in?”

The young man scanned Larry’s face, and he was clearly enraptured with the other man’s beauty. Larry felt a smug satisfaction in the power he felt over this young man. I could probably get him into bed in 5 minutes, Larry thought.

“Your name?”

Larry hesitated. His name didn’t seem– right, anymore. Not with this body, this face. But, he hadn’t thought of a new one yet. “Tell her it’s Larry.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Larry said, cringing. This was all some… lame? And frustrating. Larry felt like a bloodthirsty she-cat, ready to destroy her prey, but he couldn’t seem to express any of his rage, instead burying it under a mask of sweet and adorable. He resolved it would be different with Malorie. She would find out she’d messed with the wrong girl– guy? Whatever.

“She’s in the break room. You can go back. Left, down the hall, on the right.”

Larry strutted down the hall. He could no longer even think of wearing pants, and despite the fact he’d come here to demand the restoration of his manhood, he’d been compelled, as before, to look as pretty and put together as possible. He’d selected a black, a-line skirt, a crisp white, sleeveless blouse with a Peter Pan collar,and a pair of black pumps. Of course, the tasteful jewelry complimented the outfit, and he’d put his hair up in a tight, no-nonsense bun. He forced himself to maintain an elegant, heel to toe walk, despite the discomfort created by his Tampon. The denizens of the office popped their heads up from their cubicles, checking out this gorgeous woman striding through their midst, wondering who she was. Larry reveled in their stares, but with each step toward the breakroom, his rage grew and he felt the tension building.

He was ready to scream and he had every intention of raging on Malorie like a bitch out of hell, but as soon as he pushed the break room door open he heard a tiny voice yell, Mommy!” And then he was almost knocked off his heels as Nora slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him in a bear hug.

“Mommy?” He answered, hugging her back, fighting off tears. He’d missed her so much! And he wanted to make everything up to her.

Malorie sat at the break table. “I explained your transition to her. She’s excited to have two mommies now.”

Mommy. It made Larry feel so good to have Nora call him that. When the hug ended, he played with her hair, cupped her face in his hands. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said. “And, you’ve grown!”

“You’re so pretty!” Nora said, staring up at the gorgeous woman her Daddy had become.

“Not as pretty as you!” Larry said. He gathered her in for another hug. Looked over her shoulder at Malorie.

“Nora, bean, can your two Mommies have a second?”

“Okay,” Nora said. “I’ll go to your office. But,” and now she turned to Larry and shook her finger at him. “Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye!”

“I won’t,” Larry said.

Nora left. Larry glared at Malorie. She smiled, a smile of triumph. “I love your purse,” she said.

“Knock it off,” Larry said, annoyed his voice was now higher and prettier than his wife’s.  He sat down, smoothing his skirt as he did so. “You think this is funny?”

“A little.”

Larry tapped his nails against the table, hooked his hair behind his ear. He wanted to unleash a profanity laden barrage of hate onto her, but instead he found himself speaking in an even higher voice, smiling, trying to be pleasant. “Well, could you please change me back? I’ve learned my lesson. I really have. But, I think I would just be a better father to Nora as a man?”

“Nice try. Make it all about Nora. But, the thing is, it would be just too confusing for her if her Daddy turned into her Mommy, and then back into her Daddy, don’t you think.”

“This isn’t about Nora,” Larry said, slitting his eyes in feminine rage.

“It is a little. But it’s also about humiliating you.”

“I’ll go to the police.I’ll sue you!”

“Oh, Mei. No one will believe you used to be a man, and your wicked ex-wife turned you into a hot piece of ass– isn’t that the phrase you liked to use for attractive women, Mei?”

“I don’t care if they– and stop calling me Mei.”

“That’s your name now. Check your license.”

“There’s no way,” Larry said, but the feeling of his bra tight around his breasts was enough to remind him that the impossible was very possible. He opened his purse and took out the matching wallet. Looked at his driver’s license. It read Mei Lin, and it indicated he was female.

“As far as the world knows, you have always been Mei Lin. Only those close to you will remember who you were. So, yes, go see a lawyer, and explain all about how your real name is Larry, and you are a man. Just make sure to wear something cute.”

“Like I have a choice.” Larry sighed. “Did you have to give me your maiden name?”

“I didn’t have to do anything.” Malorie said. “I just wanted to because you were such an asshole.” She thought about explaining all about how she’d actually made him a better man, but she decided he needed to suffer, to sit there and contemplate his future, his new life, and maybe to realize that he’d brought this on himself.

“So, there’s no way of talking you out of this?” Larry said.

“Mei,” Malorie said, then paused. “Could you give me some make-up tips? You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Larry said, pleased with the compliment in spite of himself. He got up, brushing his hair back. “I’m going to say bye to Nora, and I am going to insist on my visitation rights.”

“I’m happy to hear that, sweetie,” Malorie said. “I think you’ll be a much better mother than a dad.”

Epilogue

“Mommy!” Nora shouted, running up and giving Mei a hug.

“Careful,” he said, resting a hand on top of his swollen belly.

“Sorry. Is the baby coming soon? I can’t wait to meet my little brother!”

“Soon,” Mei said. Malorie stood in the hall. Mei looked adorable in her fashionable maternity wear, and boy had her boobs ever gotten bigger due to the pregnancy. Malorie had toyed with the idea of giving her disgusting ex D cups, given his obsession with big tits, but had decided against it in a moment of compassion.  Nature had other ideas, however, and he now had a huge pair of knockers to go along with the rest of him. Still, he carried the baby weight well, and his face hadn’t swollen the way some women’s did. He was still a knockout.

“Mei,” she said, using as flat and civil a tone as she could muster.

“Mal,” Mei answered in the same tone, one used by so many couples who hated each other but had agreed to hide it from the child.

Of course, it didn’t work. Nora knew very well her Mommies didn’t like each other, and she would just kind of pretend not to notice when they were together. Which, thankfully, wasn’t often.

“You excited about the baby?” Malorie said.

“Oh, so excited,” Mei answered through gritted teeth. “You know, I just can’t seem to help myself.”

“Okay!” Nora said, taking Mei’s hand. “Time for the spa! Can I get mud on my face again?”

“You can get mud all over!” Mei said, letting herself be led away by her daughter, but unable to resist the urge to look back over her shoulder, letting the hate fill her eyes and burn into her Ex-Wife. It wasn’t very ladylike to say the least, but no one was watching.

Malorie saw it, saw the old Larry in those eyes, the Larry who was hating every minute of his woman’s life. Mei, she had decided at one point, deserved to be happy, and all her dreams were coming true. She was happy, truly, for the woman. But she also loved seeing it happen to that disgusting man.