Transformations Ch. 05

"Can you change back?"

"No. I don't think so. I'm stuck. Oh God, Michael, what am I going to do? What am I going to tell Mum? She was so happy that I decided to be Zoe. Now I'm this? Michael, what am I?"

"Shh, don't panic. Just take a minute, relax and then try again."

"Which way?"

"I don't know. Which way were you changing?"

"Um, Zoe into Joey, I think."

"Well, try for Zoe then."

Zoe tried. "It's not working Michael."

"Well try the other way."

"I just did. Neither one is working. Oh my God, oh my God."

"It's okay Zoe, don't get worked up, it'll make things worse."

"How can you tell me not to get worked up? Michael, I broke myself."

"I'll call my Mum."

"Your mother. No. Why?"

"She'll know what to do."

"Oh my God. I don't want her knowing about us. I don't want anyone knowing about us."

"Zoe, you have to do something."

"I have to clean up, that's what I have to do. I have to wash Mum's bed and put on clean sheets and vacuum and scrub the floor downstairs."

"Zoe love, you can't ignore it. Pretending won't make it right. We need to call Mum. She might have seen it before, it might have happened to her or, or, she could know what to do. Time might be of the essence."

"Fine. Call her. But help me clean up too."

**

Three months had passed. There was no quick fix. No one in the family had ever encountered such a thing before. Zoe still had her penis, but her body and voice was otherwise completely feminine. She continued to dress as a woman and had even more clothes than before. Joey's room was gone. Some of his stuff had been boxed and placed up the attic, but Zoe's room was very much a girl's room, neat and tidy and smelling sweet.

Zoe had a new job. Modelling of all things. She'd been spotted in the street about a week after the incident. It beat working down the pub. She'd joined an agency and been hired out to amateur and semi-professional photographers looking to do a bit of glamour photography. Nothing tasteless though.

One time she had shown her nipples as she tried to squeeze herself into a boob tube. Just a half nipple on one side and a glimpse of areola on the other. The camera flash came as a complete surprise, but she had to agree, it was a great photo. The exasperated look on her face as she struggled with the tight top was pure gold. From that one photo alone, she'd made over six hundred quid. That kind of dosh would take three weeks to make as a barmaid.

She had more time to herself though. The hours were kinder and she certainly didn't miss working nights. While not every shoot was as financially rewarding, money was no longer such an issue. As her ever expanding wardrobe was testament to.

Michael's Mum had been left flabbergasted. That afternoon had not bee a pleasant one. The whole family descended on Zoe, even relatives she barely knew, but who were transformers, like herself. Zoe just had to stand there as she was poked and prodded and closely examined by all and sundry. It was deeply embarrassing. The family doctor had even made an appearance after work. A doctor making a house call, wow! To what did she owe that privilege?

Gran was the most supportive and the most calm about the whole thing.It'll all sort itself out in good time, don't you worry Zoe darling. Well, it had been three months and nothing was sorted. But overall, Zoe was happy. She was enjoying girly living. She was loving her new relationship with her mother. And everything was really pretty good.

Sexually she was no worse off than she had been as a boy. She had a wonderfully sensitive body and her penis was as capable as ever. Of course, now she was also an anal slut and had a collection of dildos and vibrators to keep her sated in that regard.

Michelle and Zoe had been encouraged to stay apart. No one had been terribly impressed by their antics on that day, those in the know, which was not many. It was thought best that they put it behind them. Even though it wasn't technically incest, in a small, close-knit family, it certainly had that reek about it.

And that was fine by Michelle too, because returning to Stanley, she had been overcome with remorse. The moment she saw him, the realisation of what she had done with Zoe hit her. She had cheated. And she didn't want to feel that way again. It had depressed her, knowing it, seeing Stanley oblivious to it, walking around not knowing a thing about it.

It had been a wake up call to Michelle, so in that respect, it had been a good thing, because now she truly knew how she felt about Stanley. She loved him and she wanted him and only him. They were engaged to be married.

Basically, the only spanner in the works of her new life was dating. Joey had never had any success there, not even once. But Zoe was a much nicer person and even though Joey was still inside her, he was more docile than ever. He was nothing but a big pussycat now.

But dating was problematic. Zoe leant both ways. She liked girls, she liked boys, almost in equal measure. The trouble was, most girls and boys were not as enlightened when it came to the presence of a certain sexual organ on an otherwise female form.

Zoe had dated guys, gone out with them. She had no shortage of admirers in that respect. What red blooded male wouldn't want to jump her bones? She was gorgeous. She was a model, after all. Kissing was nice, fondling was nice, even giving the occasional blow job was nice, but when it came to going the whole hog, her penis was an unwelcome addition. It was having the same effect as a cold shower on all the guys. So they were pretty much out.

She'd picked up a few girls too. Lesbians. She'd hoped for better luck - hey, she might actually have been able to put her penis to good use. But sadly no. It wasn't to be. If anything, the lesbians had been just like the red-blooded males. Downright cruel upon discovery of her member. They didn't want one of those getting in the way thank you very much.

No, what Zoe needed, was someone of a more feminine mindset. But how would she get a straight woman or a gay male to fancy her?

And then it dawned on her. Just because Joey's clothes didn't fit her anymore didn't mean she couldn't go out and buy herself some nice men's clothes. She could put her feminine good taste to work and select a stunning wardrobe for herself to wear.

So that's what she did. She strapped down her breasts tightly, removed all her make up and even cropped her long blonde hair short because the wigs she tried on just looked like wigs. She had it cut nicely, still long in the front, but cut close to the back of her neck and sides. It was kind of an ambiguous cut, slightly androgynous perhaps, but appealing nonetheless. She had nothing to worry about in the penis department, but she was a little short for a man. Lifts helped there, but even so, she was still on the small side.

Taking her mother shopping, she bought an outfit, not too dissimilar to the style she had adopted. Waistcoats, skirts and blouses were her thing as a woman. A waistcoat, shirt, tie and trousers would be her man style. Something Joey would never be caught dead wearing. But that was fine, because for all intents and purposes, Joey was dead. This was Joey Mark 2.

"Sweetheart, you look so beautiful."

"Mum! No. Guys don't look beautiful, they look handsome."

"Sorry baby. You look handsome. Incredibly handsome."

"Thanks Mum. Wish me luck."

"Luck," she said, crossing her fingers on both hands.

Mrs. Aames kissed Zoe on her way out the door. She wore a pair of black trousers, a crisp black shirt, open collar, black waistcoat and a white tie to complement her blonde hair. And she went on the prowl in what was to become her trademark attire.

The women she encountered at clubs and bars didn't seem to take her seriously. She was still short and effeminate looking for a man and one prospective date had even asked Zoe if she was a woman. But after a few weeks of fruitlessness, she stopped being so fussy, approaching a woman of larger build who had clearly been striking out too.

"Hi. I love your dress. Is that Donna Karan?"

"Primark."

"Oh! Well it's very pretty anyway. Hi, I'm Joey."

"Are you a dwarf?"

"What? No. I know I'm short, but..."

The woman scoffed and shook her head. "Look, I'm not really into..."

"It's okay, it's fine. Sorry for bothering you."

Zoe left dejected, her hands in her pockets, her head down, a feeling of hopelessness seeping through her. It was to be a bad night for her, though she didn't know quite how bad, as of yet. Walking up the street, she heard revelry coming from a bar, so ventured inside. Everyone in there was male. Was it a gay bar? She'd been meaning to try one, but just hadn't got around to it yet.

As she walked cautiously inside, she began to have doubts. There was something a little off about the clientele. While she didn't have much experience of gay men, she knew from the TV that all gay men were lovely people, colourful and bright and bubbly, kind and compassionate, borne out of years of discrimination. But this place, these people, something was definitely off.

Most of the guys looked like bikers, clad in leather and silver rivets, caps and chains, tattoos and piercings, some weren't even wearing anything on top and one or two even wore brassieres. Even if she was looking for a gay man - and there was no reason why she wasn't, this wasn't quite the gay man she had in mind. She was a little scared of her surroundings and so cautiously approached the bar with no shortage of eyes upon her.

"Half a lager please."

"The drink's on me, cupcake!" someone called out from behind. Zoe turned and saw a leather clad man with a shaved head, a handlebar moustache and big muscles. He looked like a wrestler. He had such enormous arms and pecs, clearly visible since his leather waistcoat was wide open down the front, exposing too his six pack stomach.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. What brings a little thing like you into a place like this?"

"It sounded like a friendly atmosphere from outside."

He turned to his companions and grinned. "Oh, we're friendly alright. We're real friendly."

Zoe smiled awkwardly, afraid of any hidden meaning he was trying to convey in a not so subtle manner.

"How about we take this out back?" pointing to her drink. He placed one hand on her arm and squeezed it tight.

"Um, sure," said Zoe, wanting to be polite and not offend him in any way.

He held open a door for her, obscuring the brass plate from view. It was the toilets.

"No I'm... I think there's been a mistake," said Zoe, feeling incredibly anxious.

"Well let's see if we can rectify that, little one."

"No please."

She tried to open the door but it was being held closed from the other side, no doubt by this ruffian's friends.

"Please, just let me go. I won't say anything."

"I bought you a drink. Don't be so ungrateful."

"I, I'll pay you." Zoe went in her pocket for some change but the brute knocked it out of her hand

"I don't want your chump change. I want your ass."

He pushed himself on her and started kissing her.

Zoe was in a state. She had no idea anyone could be so awful, least of all a gay man. She kept thinking,all the ones on TV are so nice, so friendly and cheerful. God, was that just TV stereotyping? Of course Zoe, don't be so stupid, girl. Why would all gay men be the same, conforming to a single character type? Bad was bad, whether gay or straight. And in that moment she felt sick.

His hands were all over her body and she started screaming for help. He released a flap on the front of his leather trousers and his huge hard cock stood to attention and he pressed it into her stomach. Even that was tattooed and pierced. Had a fierce look about it, a big curved barbell of a ring and dark black ink halfway up his shaft. And he didn't have any foreskin covering his head. It was like a mini version of his actual head. And Zoe was terrified.

"Please no," she started to cry. "Please," she sobbed, taking a good look at him, her eyes directly level with the distinctive tattoo on his neck, stylized fingers in a V salute riding a motorcycle.

The gay man looked at her then ripped open the front of Zoe's shirt, revealing the cloth she had holding down her boobs. He pulled at that too until Zoe's boobs flopped out.

"You're a fucking woman!"

Then he did something that surprised Zoe and cupped his hand in her groin. "You packing plastic, bitch?"

He unfastened Zoe's trousers and pulled down her pants.

"Oh my God, what the fuck are you? A fucking shemale? Get the fuck out of here you fucking freak."

Zoe burst into tears. The brute grabbed hold of her arm, yanked open the door and pushed her out into the bar area, her breasts shiggling for all to see. Her penis too. She was manhandled all the way to the door, unable to compose herself. Then she felt the cold night air on her genitals as she was pushed into the street on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. It was the worst experience of her life. How could a gay man be such an utter bastard?

**

Another three months had passed and Zoe had been on no more dates. She hadn't gone out at all looking to hook up. She'd been too afraid, so traumatised had she been. Mrs. Aames had wanted Zoe to lodge a formal complaint with the police, get that bastard for attempted rape, but Zoe would have none of it. She just wanted to put it behind her, she didn't want to keep dredging it up day after day, putting herself through the additional ordeal of a court case, where her status as a transgender woman would no doubt come to the fore. Her story may even have ended up in the newspapers. And that was something she just could not risk.

Everything had suffered though. She had lost out on modelling jobs because of the trauma. Whenever she was left alone in a room with a man, any man, she just became hysterical and had to get out of there.

Truth be told, she had become reclusive, even fearing every unexpected knock at the door. Mrs. Aames had found Zoe a support group, women who had been subject to violent assault, even rape. It was there that Zoe discovered other's had had it worse. It didn't make what happened to her go away, but it did give her access to people who knew what she had been through and were only too willing to be supportive.

Not a day went by that Zoe didn't at least try to change. Male or female, it didn't matter, either would be fine. Because this was limbo, stuck somewhere that the world had trouble dealing with, even if she didn't. Zoe actually liked her body, she liked that it was so feminine and that she could wear girl's clothes. And she liked being able to use her penis. Her orgasms were better than Joey had ever had because she was able to enjoy sensitivity from her breasts and of course, the vibrators she would put up her backside. From a purely masturbatory point of view, she had few complaints.

It was just that she lacked human contact. Evenings were spent at home with her mother, now her very best friend in the whole world. Gran would come over in the daytime a couple of days a week and keep Zoe company. She was just so grateful for her Gran and Mum, that they were both there for her. But Zoe still craved love in her life. Intimate love. For someone to have her back, someone whose arms she could relax in, feel safe.

Six months had gone by and her body hadn't changed, even the memory of being able to change had faded and some days she would wonder if it had all been a dream. She began to consider a more permanent solution to her problem.

Gender reassignment.

Transgendered women did it. Some of them did anyway. She just didn't want to keep facing such an uphill struggle to find someone understanding, who she could spend time with, grow to love. At least as a woman, regardless of how it was achieved, she would have an easier time. A larger pool of people would be available for dating. And love.

So it was what she was considering. Having a sex change. She was half way there anyway. All she really needed was a snip here, a snip there, a bit of vaginoplasty and she'd have her pseudo vagina. She'd be what she longed to be.

And so, Zoe found herself online a lot, reading up, all about it. She found forums and got involved in them. Made new friends, found that many of them were not too far away. Yes, some were on the other side of the world, but there were many in the country, although most seemed to be either in London or Brighton, so within 200 miles.

She had come to really enjoy being online with her friends. There was Ashli and Brenda, Rebecca and Lexi, Les and Leann. How she loved them. They were all so kind to her, so supportive. She couldn't have wished for better friends.

And then there was Simone.

Simone was the nearest of them all, living just forty miles from Zoe. Both Welsh girls, although Simone was a few years older. The two had become so close online, there really was no good reason why they shouldn't meet. But Simone was fearful, afraid that if Zoe saw her in the flesh, she would see all the flaws that Simone saw in herself. She didn't want to lose Zoe's friendship. But on this one thing, Zoe persisted.

Arriving at the station, Zoe got off the train and looked around for Simone. And looked. And looked.

There was no sign of her. Zoe started to believe that Simone had stood her up and her heart began to sink. She sat down at the terminal and looked up at everyone going past. But no Simone.

After half an hour, Zoe put her face in her hands and began to cry.

And that's when Simone sat down alongside her. Zoe looked up and wiped away her tears.

"Simone?"

Simone looked down at her own lap, ashamed that she had hurt her dear friend so.

"Zoe."

"Simone!" Zoe cheered up and flung her arms around Simone, leaning into her and hugging her tightly. "What happened? Where were you? I was worried something had happened to you."

"Zoe, I'm sorry. I've made a terrible first impression."

"No..."

Simone shook her head. "No I have. I got here a whole hour before the train got in. I was so excited to finally meet you. But so anxious too. And when the passengers got off the train, I thoughtyou'd stoodme up. I looked around and I just couldn't see anybody like me. And then I saw you. And you were wearing exactly what you said you'd be wearing, so that I'd recognise you. But the more I looked, the more I felt ashamed. Embarrassed. Zoe, look at you, you're so beautiful, you're a girl. And look at me, I'm nothing like you. I'm five foot ten, broad shouldered, no hips. You were just so gorgeous and I'm so ugly."

"No, you're not ugly. You're beautiful."

"I'm not, you don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it. I mean it Simone. You're so lovely, your hair, your skin, it's so soft, your face is so feminine, your eyes, they sparkle. You have a stunning figure Simone, I'm envious."

"Zoe please, you're so kind, but I know it's not true."

"Simone. It is true. It's all true, but it wouldn't matter to me if you were six foot six and two hundred pounds. I like you for you, for who you are, who I know you to be. You've shown me your heart Simone, you can't make that stuff up, you can't pretend. I've seenyou, real you and I love that person I've come to know. And that person is you."

Simone had tears in her eyes and Zoe smiled at her and then hugged her all over again. "Simone, please try to understand how much you mean to me. Apart from my Mum and my Gran, you're the most important person in my life. You're my best friend who I'm not biologically related to!"

"Oh Zoe. I wish, I wish I could go back and do all this again, only, I wouldn't hide from you this time. I'd stand there proud. And I'd smile. And I'd shout out,Zoe, it's me Simone, I'm over here."

Zoe smiled, a tear in her own eye. Then she bit her lip and got up. She ran to the turnstile and pretended to have just got off the train. She looked around for Simone.