You Can Be Anything You Want Pt. 01

"Crap! At this rate, I'm going to be late. The car is going to be here in an hour and I'm still not packed", Chloe thought to herself as she was running around panicking.

Her small apartment was a mess. There were clothes, shoes, towels, and accessories everywhere. The bed was the worst. It was occupied with a particularly large pile of clothes that threatened to topple over every time she passed near it.

The small girl was flying around, socks sliding on the hard floor, trying desperately to pick clothing from the piles and shove it in a suitcase that was never meant to hold that much. The whole scene was comical, to say the least. If only she could focus on the task at hand she would be done in less than ten minutes, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Why would she choose me to write about her life? Why would an established writer choose an intern from her own company" she thought.

This was the million-dollar question that made her lose sleep for two weeks straight.

She was picked, as if at random, to write a biography on her boss - Nicole Cormier. That woman was a mystery. No one, except the higher-ups, had seen her at the office and know what she looked like.

Naturally, the stories about her on the lower floors were wild. Chloe's favorite was that she was not a woman at all. At least, not born as one. As far as she understood, it was started as a rumor a few years ago by a particularly annoying individual that was fired in a very loud and public manner. The whole thing was so out of sync with the image presented in written interviews available with ms. Cormier that everyone just used it as a running gag. You could regularly hear in the corridors parts of conversations like "No wonder we were the top publisher again this year. Only our boss had the balls to sign him."

Still spaced out, Chloe grabbed a small travel bag from the wardrobe, threw it on the floor in front of the bed, and started shoveling cosmetics from the nightstand and bathroom cabinets. She was unsure what she will need for the weekend, so the plan was simple -- just bring everything.

Soon the bag was full of makeup, creams, perfumes, various brushes, tweezers, a small hairdryer, a box of condoms, lube, and her small vibrator and dildo. She didn't even question why the last few items were packed. They were in the drawer that she took out of the nightstand and just emptied inside the bag without looking.

"Maybe it is a joke. A nasty trick played by the other editors in the office. Maybe I won't get picked by a car to drive me to the airport, but I'll just see the entire team downstairs with a huge 'Gotcha!' sign.", she paused while putting the drawer back in.

She stood still for a few seconds, gave herself a few slaps on the cheeks, and raced again between the obstacles. There was no time for thoughts like these. Even if there was a small chance that it wasn't a prank, but a real opportunity, she was not going to miss it.

The weather was supposed to be cold, according to her boss, so she packed a few comfy sweaters, warm socks, a leather jacket, and a winter coat. Then she moved on to a more official attire, in case it was needed. In went a dozen different dresses and skirts, shirts, blouses, and almost everything else she wore at the office.

Underwear was next and it was simple -- empty the entire drawer with panties and bras in the suitcase. Shoes? Well, that was going to be tricky. She opened a second smaller suitcase and threw in a few pairs of heels, two pairs of sneakers, and her favorite pair of Uggs.

She stood up, arms on her waist, and blew a strand of hair that was stuck to her face, finally happy with herself.

"That's it then. Now I just need to get dressed and wait for the car" she said as if almost congratulating herself for the quick job.

She closed the suitcases and dove into the pile of clothes that were left on the bed. She picked a thicker pair of leggings, a t-shirt that perfectly described her usual weekends with a print "Sunday before 11 a.m? Do not speak to me!" and a comfy sweatshirt. It was supposed to be a few-hour flight and she was determined to be as comfortable as possible.

She bunched up her long dark hair in a ponytail and checked herself in the mirror. All she saw back was a very nervous slim 5'4 girl with big green eyes staring back at her like a deer in headlights. It was time for a pep talk and make-up.

"Shit! Fuck! Balls!", she started swearing, "All my make-up is in the bag!"

The doorbell rang just as she was about to start panicking.

"Well, at least you showered...", she said to the girl in the mirror and went for the door.

The pep-talk would have to wait. She went to the door and opened it slightly. A man, who looked like a limousine driver, dressed in a full suit, gloves, and a hat, was standing in front of it.

"Chloe Harrington? I'm here to pick you up and drive you to the airport. Please bring your suitcase to the door so we can get going." he said with a flat and uninterested tone.

"Ummm. Can you come in and get them? I'm not sure I can lift them myself" she answered, flashing a guilty childish grin at him.

"Them? Sure." he sighed.

"Crap! Shit-balls! This is real.", she thought while the poor man struggled with the suitcases, "I'm fucked!"

************

The ride to the airport and the fight were boring. After loading the bags in the car, the driver did not utter a single word. He just sat in the front seat, reminded her to fasten her seatbelt, and drove off.

Not that Chloe minded the silence. She was too absorbed in her thoughts about what was ahead and just spaced out and watched the traffic from the backseat window.

He dropped her off at the airport and brought the bags in. The flight was four hours and it was probably the first time Chloe did not mind the boredom.

After arriving at the destination, she exited the gate and saw another man holding a sign with her name on it and the company logo. Similarly to the first driver, he just greeted her, made small talk about her flight, and loaded the bags in the car. She just responded with simple answers, still much too nervous.

They drove off, and based on the road signs, were headed for the highway. An hour later they took an exit towards some small town at the foot of a mountain. The car took a small road heading away from civilization towards a few buildings up the hills that were barely visible in the forest. Soon they made another turn and headed for one of the villas.

With every mile, Chloe was getting more and more nervous and just kept sinking in the seat as if trying to hide from what was to come.

Minutes later, the car stopped in front of the entrance of a two-story house. A young woman was sitting on the porch drinking something hot from a huge steaming mug. She was dressed in a similar way to Chloe -- an oversized coat, leggings, and fluffy boots. The only difference was the pink hat with a big pom-pom on top of it.

The moment the car stopped, the woman stood up, smiled, and waved at the driver. At that point, Chloe was almost hyperventilating.

"This is it...", she thought and opened the door.

Her heart was beating so hard, she felt her chest was going to explode. She got out of the car, not even registering the cold, and waved at the woman.

"Hi! I'm Chloe Harrington. I'm here to see ms. Cormier." she almost shouted as if responding to a drill instructor.

"I know Ms. Harrington, I invited you after all and you can call me Nicole. Now please get in before you catch a cold while John brings your luggage inside" the woman responded.

************

"No way! Is this some kind of a joke? She can't be more than 27-28 years old. That's like five years older than me. And she is so good-looking. I thought she was a wrinkly hag in her fifties at least, not my age", Chloe thought, while entering the house. She was still standing just past the entrance looking surprised, as Nicole threw her coat on a sofa on the left and headed to the right of Chloe.

The first floor of the house was a big living room. On the left -- a fireplace, a big couch, and two sofas on each side, in the middle -- a big dining table, and on the right -- a spacious kitchen.

"Chloe? Ms. Harrington?", Chloe finally heard, "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes! Sorry, Ms. Cormier." she responded.

"I asked whether you would like something to drink. I can make you a cup of coffee or some tea. If it is the latter, I recommend chamomile. And please stop with the whole 'Ms. Cormier'. It is Nicole. Being so formal makes me feel old. Now, please step inside. John's hands are about to fall off holding your luggage." the woman said.

"Sorry. Yes, tea would be lovely." Chloe said while finally moving away from the door to let the man drop the suitcases inside. "I'm sorry, I'm just a bit shocked", she added.

"Why is that?" Nicole asked.

"I was just expecting something else." Chloe answered, and then, realizing it might've sounded a bit rude, quickly explained, "I thought you'd be older. You look like you could be my slightly older sister."

"Thank you! Now would you please try to stop being so nervous? I swear to God, I can feel the floorboards vibrating, and I'm pretty sure it's not an earthquake." Nicole said with a smile on her face and a hint of amusement in her eyes.

It took another hour and a half before Chloe finally started to relax a bit. John, the driver, had left after putting the suitcases in Chloe's room and drove off, leaving the two women alone.

They made small talk about the weather, favorite books, films, and anything else Nicole could think of just to make the younger woman feel less nervous. A quick tour of the house later, followed by a fantastic, at least to Chloe's standards, dinner, was all it took. Nicole opened a bottle of red wine and poured two glasses.

"Let's at least get the details of your assignment out of the way. I can see your curiosity written all over your face", she said as she gestured toward the two sofas in front of the fireplace.

"That would be lovely Mr.Cor-, Nicole." Chloe said.

"Finally we're getting somewhere!" Nicole cheered, and quickly added in a more serious tone, "Now, as you know, you are here to write something of a biography book about myself. I would like to clear up the details of it." She looked straight into Chloe's eyes and delivered the final blow, "The book will not be published. Ever! It is just for myself. It may sound a little vain, but I want to read another person's perspective on my life. You will need to sign an NDA, of course."

Chloe's heart sank. This was supposed to be her breakthrough. A book that was going to be published, with her as an author. A book that would finally make her get over her fear and submit her drafts to the company. She was about to become an author, and the opportunity was snatched just as easily as it was presented.

"I can see you are disappointed, but I'm not done yet, so please listen until the end." Nicole continued, noting Chloe's subdued expression. "However, if you like the story or bits of it, you can write a novella or an entire book series, for all I care, as long as you change the names and anything else that could point to me or the other characters."

Chloe just kept staring at her boss, desperately trying not to interrupt.

"I, of course, would be your editor to make sure everything is okay." continued Nicole. "The editorial offer stands even if you decide to try something else. I'm sure you have a draft or two stashed somewhere. Something you never worked up the courage to submit perhaps? Think about it and let me know until tomorrow. If you decline, you are welcome to stay for a few days as a paid vacation."

And with that, the opportunity was back in front of Chloe and it was better than before. She would have Nicole Cormier, an established author, as an editor. This was too good to pass up. It was now, or never.

"I'll do it!" Chloe said softly, finally working up the courage.

"Are you sure?" Nicole asked.

"Absolutely! I'm not going to pass up an opportunity like this." Chloe explained, sounding a bit more enthusiastic.

"Splendid!" Nicole said relieved. "However, there are a few more details I need to clear up before you give me your final answer. First, this will not be a true biography. I am a writer after all, and that means I like to embellish. Second, there will be a lot of focus on my sex life. With a lot of details. I need to know that you are okay with this."

The room suddenly got quiet. The only sound was coming from the crackling of the fire and an audible sound of swallowing from Chloe. She thought that woman was insane. No sane person would want to read about their sexual life in a book they commissioned themselves. Nicole did not look like the type, even if such a fetish existed. Chloe could easily read Nicole's expression. She was nervous. Either she was a complete pervert, which was likely, or there had to be some other reason to want this. Some weird reason that would make her commission a book like that. Her curiosity was sparked and there was only one way to find out. She had to do it.

"I'm okay with it." Chloe said resolutely and saw an immediate reaction in Nicole. Her boss was relieved. "It could be fun, and as I said, I cannot pass up the opportunity to have you as my editor."

"Thank you, Chloe. Would you like to start now or tomorrow?", Nicole asked, not even trying to show her excitement.

"Now would be great, if you don't mind. Let me get my laptop from my bag." Chloe said as she stood up.

She walked to the dining table and started rummaging through her bags. "Crap!" she shouted, "I must have left it at home. I was packing my bags in a hurry." she added in a disappointed and slightly scared tone.

"No problem. You can use mine. It is on the kitchen island. Get the charger as well while you are there. I'm pretty sure the battery is empty." Nicole said.

Chloe grabbed the computer, plugged the charger into the nearest socket on the wall near the fireplace, and sat on the sofa. She opened the lid and set it on her lap. Surprisingly, there was no password, the laptop just booted to the desktop.

The screen was a mess, there were files everywhere. She found a small corner at the bottom of the screen, created a new folder, and fired up a text editor.

"I'm ready!" she said and looked straight at Nicole.

"Do you really intend to write down everything I say? Please open the voice recording app and set it up. I don't want to hear the keyboard clicking through the entire thing." said Nicole.

"Sure. I'll just write it down afterward." Chloe said as she did as she was instructed and placed the laptop on the coffee table. "Ready when you are." she added and lay back into the soft cushions of the sofa.

"Right! Where do I begin?" started her boss. "I guess as with any story I should introduce myself and start from the beginning." she continued as if disappointed in herself. "I was born twenty-eight years ago, in the small town at the foot of this mountain. My parents had decided to name me Nicholas. Nicholas Cormier, after my -"

"What!?" said Chloe, almost shouting. "What do you mean Nicholas?!" Her mind was racing. Were the silly stories at work true? Was she really a man?

"I mean my name was Nicholas. I was, am, to a lesser degree, a man." Nicole explained calmly. "You have surely heard the jokes at the office. Well, they are true."

"But, you don't look like a dude. Or sound, or move like one." insisted Chloe.

"Of course, I don't. I don't consider myself one, but the facts cannot be disproved. I have a penis, not a vagina. My breasts can be explained by hormones and a very expertly done surgery. The rest -- by a lot of exercises. Now please zip it, so I can focus. It is difficult as it is..." Nicole said.

**************

I was born twenty-eight years ago in the small town at the foot of this mountain. My parents had decided to name me Nicholas. Nicholas Cormier, after my grandfather. They had moved here in search of a better place to start a family.

My father was a very disciplined and determined man. When they moved here thirty years ago, he immediately started work in construction. He was very handy. That man could fix or build anything. My mother was the creative type. She was a painter. The painting near the staircase is a gift from her. I could go on and on about them, but they are not the focus of this story and some things should stay only as memories.

It would be enough to say that by the time I was born, my father had started his own company and had managed to expand it to a degree that allowed for a very comfortable life. My mother would occasionally sell a painting or two and buy him a gift -- a new car or a trip somewhere distant. They loved each other.

I grew up as a normal boy. I played with toys, rode a bicycle, and got in trouble as any other ordinary boy. As the years went by, I would focus more and more on creative things -- painting, which I suck at, music, and of course writing. I had many friends. I wasn't a closeted person, except when I played the guitar, the only instrument that I managed to learn. That was something I did only for myself and my parents and to this day the people that have heard me play can be counted on one hand.

As any teenager at the time, I passed through my rebellious phase with baggy clothes and long hair. My closest friend since the primary school was Mike. As we were growing up, he kept getting taller and taller and I stopped around 5'4. He gained muscle, I didn't.

One of my most vivid memories from that time was sitting on a park bench waiting for him to change so we could go to my place and play video games. An elderly woman passed and asked for directions and at the end of the brief conversation she said 'Thank you miss.'

Any person might think that was the beginning of my transition. That I realized at that moment that I was not a boy inside, but a girl all this time. A psychiatrist might point to this moment as some sort of grand self-discovery, but it was nothing like that. I did, however, realize one thing. I could be anything and anyone I wanted. My father had been saying that for years, but it finally got to me.

Two years later, during the summer break before college, I got my first girlfriend -- Samantha. She was my height, slim with beautiful long dark hair, like yours. She had big blue eyes that could melt her father's resolve in the face of any request. We were in a way complete opposites -- she had a scientific approach to almost everything, while I just went head first and did my best. I would like to think that for the two months we were together, we rubbed off on each other. She stopped analyzing every situation, while I on the other hand started to.

She was the first person I had sex with. It was brief, very fun and I couldn't stop thinking about it. We were like rabbits, doing it every time we had the chance. Eventually, we started to experiment and she was in her fury. Sam was constantly researching on the Internet new positions and tricks. We started to watch porn together in search of even more fun than we already had. We used our pocket money for sex toys and asked her older sister to buy them because we were too embarrassed, even though we were both eighteen. Soon we had a small collection consisting of a small vibrator, a dildo, and lube. With all the porn we had watched, the next obvious step in our experimentation was anal.

The first try was tragic, to say the least. I went too fast, and while I'm not that endowed, apparently my six inches were enough to cause her enough pain to warrant more thorough research. And she did just that.

A week later we had a refined game plan. I would start slowly this time and stretch her with my fingers and a lot of lube. When she felt she was ready, she would tell me and lie on her side. According to her, that was the best position for beginners. Three hours and four orgasms later we were addicted to it. I had never seen her orgasm that hard before, and I felt like her stomach would burst from all the cum inside her. After that day, anal became a regular part of our sex life.