Message-ID: <6168eli$9712081833@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: sapphire@biosys.net (Sapphire) Subject: NEW TG: Patricia ( 5/ 52 ) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <34937cef.7734740@library.airnews.net> Hi folks - I've gotten LOTS of email to repost this.....so here it is! (Posted with written permission from the author!) Remember, we've MOVED to http://www.xoom.com/SapphTG Enjoy! Sapphire Sapphire's Place TG Fiction Archive Sapphire's Channel - Pointcast and Email TG Fiction ( http://www.xoom.com/SapphTG ) All the Warnings to Minors are in effect. There are parts that some feel could corrupt your young minds. ----The Story Follows---------------------------------------- Chapter 5 May 1993 Day Two Patricia, Not Pat Wednesday, May 5th I awoke the next morning with the sun in my eyes, slightly disoriented with the dream I vaguely recalled. I tried to bring it into focus and this seemed much easier than normal. In the dream, I had become a girl, all due to a plot by my girl friend's envious admirer. It all seemed very vivid and real to me, but thank god, it was just a dream. In fact it was too idiotic to really take seriously, me, a girl. But the dream was very graphic and I was experiencing chills just recalling this nightmare. From habit, I reached for my balls to give them a good morning scratch and discovered the reality of my dream. I remembered yesterday and knew what had happened and what I had become. A Damn Fucking Female! Then as an after thought, I amended to a 'Damn Female'. No way was I going to fuck any one. Dropping back down on my back, instinctively brushing the hair back from my face and pulling the covers up over my head, I tried to relax. Just lying there and not moving, I didn't feel any different that I always had, but I knew deep down that I had been changed beyond logical belief. I was well aware that this wasn't a dream, although I desperately wished it were. Caving in to cold realism, I started thinking about the future and what I would with this new body. I slowly put my hands on my new breasts. They were full and firm. I then reluctantly checked my groin, hoping against all hope that something would be there. Well, something was there, but it wasn't what I wanted to find. I touched the lips of an opening, my new vulva, and was soon satisfied that I and indeed lost my penis and scrotum and had a vagina and labia as replacement. Pulling my fingers up a half inch I found my clitoris and titillated it and was both surprised and slightly pleased to feel the sexual sensation this action elicited. But this shouldn't have been too surprising to me as I knew that the clitoris had evolved from the remnant of my penis, much changed and much reduced, but still quite sensitive. I got out of bed and went into the bath, each step being a constant reminder of my new body. The long hair tickling my back, the rearrangement of my body weight and the void between my legs, all made me very aware of my changed physique. I stood before the mirror and examined myself from head to waist, the limit of my vision in the bathroom mirror. And of course the first thing I noticed was my face and hair, the latter in a disheveled mess. First my face, features that bore not the slightest resemblance to my "real" face. It was as if I was looking at a complete stranger, a very pretty stranger of the opposite sex. The most striking characteristics were the full pink lips, the very light, hairless and pale pink complexion and the large round eyes under the long bangs of hair on my forehead. And the hair over my ears and cheeks framed the entire countenance in a very feminine manner. Just yesterday, I thought of my self as a man, but today, I was completely different. I was a very beautiful girl, in fact I started to get sexed up just looking at myself in the mirror. I looked down at my body and saw that my breasts were full, protruding and firm, my waist was narrow, and below that sensitive pubic mound, my thighs expanded just enough to look quite girlish but not like a fat slut. My legs were long and slim and both my hands and feet looked quite feminine. My whole damn body looked and felt very feminine. Hell, I was very feminine. This was bizarre, a masculine mind in a feminine body. And the mind was tantalized by the image of my own body? And I couldn't make love with myself as man to woman which was frustrating, very frustrating. As a man, I wanted to screw that creature in the mirror, but although my mind was of one nature, my body was of another and never again would I be able to make love with a woman. This was an exceedingly depressing thought and I was having a very difficult time comprehending this essential verity. A shower seemed in order, something normal to calm me down. Decision made, I hunted around and conveniently found shampoo, conditioner, soap, wash cloths and towels. I turned on the shower and feeling the water, I adjusted the controls and after a bit of fussing, got the temperature to my liking, at least for a start. I stepped into the full brunt of water streaming out of the shower head and immediately put my head under the water and felt my hair streaming down around my body. I opened my eyes, which had been shut from the force of the water, and found that I was blinded by my bangs falling into my eyes. I pulled the hair away from my eyes, straightened up and turned around, feeling the water on my back and over my shoulders. Some of my long hair was coming over my shoulders and falling across my chest, no, really my breasts and the balance was streaming down my back. It sort of felt like I was taking a shower with a T-Shirt on. But it felt just great and I gloried in the feeling of the hot steamy water falling over my body. And it did feel somewhat normal to my befuddled brain. Picking up a washcloth, I inundated it with soap and starting scrubbing my body, first my face and neck, then my shoulders and underarm's and then my breasts. For some reason I was surprised to find these growths felt just like the rest of my body. They seemed so alien to my mentality but felt so normal on my body. I soaped these cancerous growths and watched the water wash the soap off, feeling the water hitting and liking the this feel of the water pelting down, like thousands of little fingers massaging the flesh of these new additions to my physique. It felt quite nice and just slightly sensual. In the pubic area, I was also wondering about this orifice. As a male, I had always soaped my genitals and usually the inside of my anus. I soaped the wash cloth and gently tried to clean the inside the vulva and then down inside of my new vagina. With my fingers, I spread the soap as much as possible and then tried to rinse if off. I was going to be a clean girl if I was going to be a girl. Then I picked up the washcloth and started on my hips, derriere, thighs and legs. Finally my feet and in between my toes. I couldn't quite get over how smooth and curvaceous my legs were. They had definitely taken a slightly different shape than that of my recent manhood. They were at once both fuller and slimmer. I wasn't really sure which. It seemed that there was a slight layer of fatty tissue over the bony parts and some of the muscle was gone. In retrospect, my entire body could be described this way. Sort of less and more at the same time. I rinsed off and decided I would try and wash all this new hair. I picked up the bottle of shampoo and poured a rather large portion out in my hand and slapped it on my head. I started to scrubbing it in, like I did with the much shorter hair with which I was accustomed. Finding that first, I was making a hell of a mess on my head and second, I would need a lot more shampoo. I picked up the plastic bottle and poured a large pool of shampoo in my hand and transferred it to my head and started working the suds through the entire mass of hair. As a man with my relatively short hair, this would have taken just a second, but now it was a major undertaking. The difference between three and forty inches of hair was impressive. Eventually I was satisfied and stood under the shower letting the hair rinse itself, resulting in a cascade of water and hair around my nude body. I picked up as much of my hair in my hands as I could conveniently handle and wrung it out, then let the water hit it again. Getting all the suds out was quite a bother and I just stood there for about four or five minutes, letting the water stream down over my head and somewhat mesmerized by the feel of my wet hair caressing my body. This was a new feeling and I was surprised that I was enjoying it. But in spite of my self, I was. I picked up the plastic bottle of conditioner and poured a healthy dose on top of my head, repeating the moments with the shampoo and thoroughly distributed the conditioner to all of the hair. Again I stood there, but this time I turned around and let the water hit my breasts with my hair hanging down my back. Wet, the hair came nearly half way down my back. Letting the conditioner work for a couple of minutes, I put my head back under the shower and tried to rinse it all out. Hell, this had extended my bath time by about ten minutes, the water was cooling off, and I would have to spend additional time combing and brushing my long locks out. Seriously thought was given to cutting it all off or at least trim it down to a more manageable style. I could be bald and would still look and be very female. I finally turned off the water, stepped out of the tub, and grabbed some towels. I started drying my hair, and after I had toweled it off, I wound the towel around my hair like I had seen girls do in the movies and on TV. This seemed a bit stupid to me as I knew I was just play acting at the female role, but it did keep the hair up out of my face while I dried the rest of my body. Besides, I had needed another towel for my body, as the first was quite damp just from the hair. Tossing the damp towels in to the clothes hamper by the side of the tub, I went and stood in front of the mirror, alternately admiring the woman I had become and then mourning for the man I had been. Noticing the tangled mess of hair hanging down around my body I decided the hell with it and went into the kitchen hunting for a pair of sissors to cut off this unmanageable mass of hair. Back in the bath with sissors in my hand, I looked in the drawer and picked up a comb, a normal comb, and started pulling that through my hair to strighten it for cutting. It was pure torture. Then looking again, I found a bigger comb, one that had very large tines with big separations between each of them. I started pulling this through my hair and found it much more conducive to straightening that long stuff out, especially if I held the hair firmly in my grasp close to my head. This greatly relived the pull on my head and was much less painful. As a man my hair had been three to six inches long. I grasped a goodly hank of hair and pulled it out and was about to cut it to about five inches when I had second thoughts. Oh what the hell, I would live with this long hair for the moment. I just couldn't bring myself to cut it off. I laid the sissors down and continued with the brushing. I finally discovered that by pulling the hair around over my chest and working from the bottom, I could make some headway with the this mass of unruly hair. After about ten minutes, I was actually bringing the comb from the crown of my head all the way to the ends. I then got a brush and started really brushing the hair. The brush had very stiff bristles which were also somewhat widely separated. Another five minutes passed and I was ready to call it quits. This would have to suffice as I again considered cutting off this inordinate amount of long hair. Realizing the lack of logic in my thoughts, I suddenly hated Richard, not for the change of my body from male to female, but giving me so much long hair with the attendant problems. Why had Richard done this to me, on top of making me into a girl, he had given me a mop of completely unmanageable hair. However, when I examined myself in the mirror, I sort of liked what I saw. A very pretty girl with long damp hair falling down her back and over her breasts, the hair starting to dry and glimmer in the light. I tossed my head in the sexy manner that some girls seemingly did unconsciously. My hair flew out and part of it fell down over my shoulder. I tried it again, hoping to make the hair fall back down my back and partially succeeded. It did look very sexy, but again, I had seen girls with very short hair look quite sexy also. And why did I care about looking sexy. I wasn't after a man. Or a woman for that matter. But it would be a shame to cut it off, I decided. I pulled the hair remaining on my chest and pushed it back over my shoulder and grabbing the hair at the nape of the neck, gave it a couple of my flicks with the brush and dropped it all down my back. I had an interesting thought, I was just thinking that the worse thing about this metamorphose was the long hair, when if fact, it was just a small part of the total irreversible and nightmarish sex change. Damn it, was I already starting to think with the emotional lack of logic of a giddy female? I certainly hoped not. Now what? Here I was nude and clean, standing in front of the mirror, somewhat admiring myself and wondering what I would do. And looking at that strange but quite delightful face in the mirror, I was thinking that a little lipstick on the lips would further enhance it's appeal. Then realizing that it was my face I was observing, I shelved that thought. I went into the bedroom and opened the dresser drawer and picked a pair of panties. The panties were more of a gesture than real covering, and consisted of just two trapezoidal pieces of cloth joined at the short base. I stepped into these and considered whether to wear a brassiere. I remembered yesterday and my breasts just bouncing around with every movement and opted for a bra. I picked through them and discovered a great variety. Some were just little slips of things that would barely cover my new breasts. The other extreme were nearly complete breast plate, going from the very top of my breasts to nearly my stomach. I chose one in between. Just a bra that would cover the breasts and hold them in place. I slipped my arms through the arm straps, fitted the pockets over my breasts, and again attempted to fasten the hooks blindly behind my back. My hair was in the way, but after a few moments, I succeeded in fastening this contraption. I couldn't really believe that woman put up with the inconvenience of fastening the majority of their clothing behind their back. It must be fashion or something equally as inconsequential. It seemed stupid to me, but so did the little pointed shoes women wore. But most women also seemed to put up with these inconveniences. Pulling my hair back, I walked to the mirror and looked at my reflection. The addition of this lingerie made me look even more feminine than when I was nude or at least more provocative to my male mind. The long hair surrounding the rather pretty face, the slim neck above the full breasts was just the start. Letting my eyes survey the rest of my body, I again admired my narrow waist above the scantily clad torso with the full hips, round little ass and then the lovely legs. I was a piece! But the image that sort of shook me up, was the look of my breasts strapped into the bra and the little bit of panty covering what were obviously the sexual organs of a female. And now in the second day after my conversion to the female, I still couldn't quite believe my own eyes. I put on the same tight fitting jeans and jersey that I had worn yesterday, pulled my hair out from the inside of the jersey, and again gave the hair a couple of stokes with the hair brush. With the jersey on my torso, I couldn't really feel the hair down my back, but was very much aware of it encompassing my face and brushing against my cheeks. It was a somewhat sensuous feeling and was a constant reminder of my new sex. This was another of those weird things that sometimes happened. As a man, I definitely had a hair fetish and now I had the hair and seemed to glory with it. In spite of this feminine physique I had acquired, I was still very much mentally a male, but was experiencing some kind of vicarious pleasure in brushing the long hair that I had inherited with the unwanted female body. On the surface I hated being female, but something inside of me wasn't all that displeased. I had enjoyed the feeling of the hot shower water washing my hair down across my breasts and just now I had enjoyed brushing this same hair. Then to keep my self busy and to bring a little order into my life as a prisoner of Richard's and a living experiment of the Sinway Institute, I went to the computer and brought up Quattro and starting making out a schedule I would try and follow for the next few days. I was a mixed up guy and needed some semblance of order in my new life. I just assumed that making a schedule would help me with this unholy tranistion. 7:00 am Out of bed and into the shower. 7:30 Breakfast and clean up around the apartment. 8:30 Exercise (Optional) 9:15 Get dressed for the day. 9:30 Free for study or work. 12:00 Lunch and noon news. 1:00 pm Free for study or work. 5:00 Exercise (Optional) 6:00 Supper, news and newspaper. 7:00 Free time, reading, TV, or what ever. 11:00 Bed time. Even working with the computer, a task with which I was quite familiar, my arms would brush against my boobs and then I would feel the hair hanging down around my face, both eerily reminding me of my new sex. However the work with the computer would kill my entire day and keep a sense of discipline about my life. I knew I wouldn't follow it slavishly, but it would be a blueprint to keep me going. And I could change it anytime I wanted. Breakfast time was gone and besides I wasn't really hungry, in spite of having skipped supper last night. So I went into the exercise room and decided to start off with about ten minutes on the cross country skiing device. Then maybe the rowing machine, try the stationary bike and finally try playing with some of the weights. I spent the next forty five minutes working with this equipment and got up a nice sweat in the process. "Maybe, I should change my schedule and do this before my bath, not after it." , I thought. Then back to the computer, and I tackled the files from Culler, Inc. and searched for anything that I could relate to my kidnaping and consequent mutilation. First I transferred the files to a database, Paradox, and searched for any reference to the Sinway Institute. This was pay dirt on my first attempt. I found four entries. The first for $100,000 as a research grant to work on "Sexual dysfunctions." The second, the initial $1,000,000 as a down payment for setting up the research project, and the third was the $4,000,000 balance of the grant. The last and most incriminating was a check for $543,487.34 as payment for medical expenses for a P. Browning. Then I slowly went through the balance of the checking account, hoping for something that would relate to the kidnaping. I found three payments totaling $152,000 to a Hightsma Investigations. The dates of the checks made it feasible that these could have been payments for my abduction, and I made copies of these entries and proceeded with my search through the financial records. Nothing more promising showed up, so I started searching for information about Hightsma Investigations. I checked the database of the National Chamber of Commerce, the Michigan Chamber of Commerce, the State of Michigan Commerce Department, the Better Business Bureau of Michigan, Grand Rapids, and all the surrounding suburbs and eventually found that Bernie Hightsma, owner, had a record as felon for both fraud and blackmail, had served two six month terms in the Michigan State Penitentiary, and was loosely associated with the criminal community of South West Michigan. And the other officer's of his corporation had equally unsavory pasts. Hightsma Investigations billed itself as a detective and security consultant and part of his security advertisements consisted on how to avoid kidnaping and ransom attempts. And much to my surprise, I discovered that the firm had an Internet address. I attempted to crash his computer, but no luck as no connection was available. I could send mail but couldn't crash his computer. I would have to catch the connection sometime when he was logged on. A slim chance, but a real one if I had patience. By this time it was after noon and I was finally hungry. I made my self a grilled cheese sandwich, potato chips and a light salad and celebrated with a beer. And while I was drinking the beer, I was surprise and amazed that although I had been smoking over two packs of cigarettes a day before last February, I hadn't even desired or thought of the need for one since I became aware yesterday morning. At least one good thing had come from my conversion, I had kicked the cigarette habit. I was rather pleased with my attempts with the computer last night and this morning and sat their smugly eating my lunch. I felt that I had enough to send Richard up for life and close down the Sinway Institute. I really didn't want to do either one, but it was nice to know that I could if I desired. I got back on the computer, thinking that I would continue in my search of dirt on the Culler, Inc. and Hightsma Investigations when the computer informed me that I had one message. I opened my E-Mail and saw that I had one from Richard. I immediately read it. Patricia, I was very interested in you comments about your past. But don't worry, this is all taken care of and was planned before you were even involved with the Sinway Institute. I foresaw this problem and have already obtained a new driver's license, new birth certificate, altered your high school and college records, and established your credit rating with credit cards, checking account, and payment records. Unfortunately, I can not give them to you in till you prove that you are adapted to your new place in life as a female and hold no grudge or ideas of retribution toward either myself or my company. I am in no hurry and we have days, weeks, or even months to let you get a hold of your new emotions. Incidentally, yesterdays plea to the Sinway Institute for a past was deleted from their tapes. I had promised them I would take care of these little tasks, which I have, and saw no reason to burden them with your problems. But the rest of the tape I let go through, unedited, as I realize that you are the crux of a crucial sexual experimentation with the Institute. However, it will be easier on both of us, or you and my staff, if you confine your complaints to E-Mail and just limit your vocal comments on the tape recorder to your feelings about your metamorphosis into a female. Understand? As far as your future, I plan on keeping you locked up in your apartment for some indeterminable time, until you have accepted your new role in life and are somewhat adjusted to it and can fit in with society without causing a scene. At this time I will give you your identification which you desire and enroll you in a modeling school, a school that teaches you the finer things about the female life style. And your key to unlocking this door, is to try and act just a little more like a girl. I mean dressing, doing your hair, using makeup, and in general, just acting like a girl instead of a man. I know this will be hard, but the more you try, the sooner you will be freed from your confinement. Oh, and by the way, I closed all the doors and windows to the databases at Culler, Inc. and the Sinway, Institute. No way can you find anything of value now. I admit, I had left it wide open, but the gates are now completely closed. Sorry, it was a good idea, but you lost and I as usual, won. Love and Affection, Richard Culler I kept the letter and wrote him a reply. Richard, I appreciate you care and interest in me and believe me, I take it to heart. In fact I am sure that Kathy would agree, as you seem to love her so much. You probably even used her name as a password into the Sinway Institute's data base, but I really wouldn't know now as it is probably changed. And how would I ever get into the Institutes data base anyway, as I don't even have a good clue as to any network affiliation. Maybe I could hire a detective agency, say Acme Detective, Stiller Security, Hightsma Investigations, or maybe Newsom Private Inquiries. Maybe one of these firms could help me, but again, maybe they couldn't and are probably very expensive. Well, you won and I lost, and that is the end of it. But as far as accepting my new fate, the fact that I am a woman and not a man, that is a given. Neither you or I can do anything to reverse it, and neither can the Sinway Institute. So why make me prove myself to you. I know that I am now a female, and will be a female for rest of my life. I don't like it, but I have to accept it. Sure, I can live here for a day, a week, or a month and surprisingly, be quite content. You made sure of that by leaving me a very respectable library and a computer with access to the world. I had been working eighty hour weeks at Herman Miller, and this enforced sabbatical is much to my liking, at least mentally. (Physically, I hate what has happened to me and will most likely never adjust to it. But I can and will accept the inevitable.) So keep me here for a day, a week or a month or what ever. I am not ready to face the real world yet anyway. Maybe I never will and will just hibernate here for the rest of my life. I really have very little to make me want to leave. No sexual identification, at least the male sex which I have spent my life living, so what the hell. If you let me out right now, I probably wouldn't go as I would be too embarrassed to see a stranger, let along a friend in my new guise. So no problem, just keep me supplied with food and booze and I will be as happy as a clam in it's shell for the immediate duration. However, I don't understand the stupid move of cutting off access to outside calls on the telephone. With the computer, I can contact nearly the entire world, including nearly every police agency in the country. But you have cut off my ability to call my parents and sisters and let them know that I am still alive. For a man who was called the "boy financial genius" by the Wall Street Journal, you don't seem to be very adept at kidnaping and imprisonment. And in fact if I really wanted out of this damn apartment, it would be quite simple to hang a knotted sheet out the window and crawl down the one story to the ground. But as I said, I have no immediate desire to meet the world. And Richard, I do sort of like the long hair. It is really sexy. It turns me on every time I brush it. In fact, overall, I turn myself on. And this is the most frustrating thing about the entire ordeal. Without Love and Affection, Your girl captive, Patricia I sent the E-Mail and just hoped that the first part had gotten him to worry just a bit, but didn't turn on homicidal tenancies. He would guess that I had successfully crashed some of his data banks, but couldn't know what I had really gotten. This was stupid of me, but I just couldn't resist it. But I figured that with the Institute looking in on my every motion and sound, he couldn't just eliminate me and try to edit it out of the tapes. No, I was public property and this made me feel just slightly safe. I decided that the Institute needed another comment or so. So I started. "Comment to the Sinway Institute. I am in the middle of my second day as a female. I still don't know why I agreed and I think I made the wrong decision, but I am starting to adapt to both the physical feeling of my new body and the mental inevitability of my living in this sex. I have to admit that I am starting to enjoy the long hair, but then I have always had a hair fetish anyway. My breasts are a bother, but am also intrigued by them, especially when I titillate them just a little. But the essence of this change, the loss of my penis and scrotum and the substitution of a vulva, vagina and clitoris is still beyond my ability to really comprehend. I mourn the loss of my male manhood and take no joy in the addition of the substitutes. Hopefully, this will change as otherwise I will go insane. But I did volunteer and it has only been less than two days. Maybe something will change in the near future. Comment Ended" Looking in the bookcases, I found some books on facial makeup and physical hygiene and curled up on the couch in the living room and started reading them, or at least leafing though the pages and reading what interested me. I had stayed away from the mirror and so I wasn't reminded of my sex very frequently, but coiling up on the couch, I felt my groin, my breasts and my hair very salient, but tried to ignore these feelings and concentrated on the books. Lipsticks, eye shadow, eyebrow pencils, eyeliner, mascara, and foundations were all alien to me. I, of course, knew the words, but I had never really realized what and how they were applied. That afternoon I learned. It turned it that it was not a technique, it was an art. And as an engineer by both training and inclination, I wasn't much of an artist. I would never be able to do it with any degree of proficiency. But as an engineer, I read and I learned, and finally decided I could do at least an adequate job with practice, if not a truly credible job. After two hours of reading about facial care and makeup, I turned to the book on feminine hygiene. It was quite descriptive and I was totally immersed in the description of the feminine body and the various ills and troubles that could occur. And from what I had read yesterday about the feminine body and what I had learned about my operations from the Sinway records, I knew that I had every one of those organs that were described. And also, that I was subject to each and every malfunction that could befall a woman. It was a sobering experience. Men had no such worries, menstrual disorders, breast cancer, vaginal yeast, vaginal infections, osteoporosis, etc. etc. It was discouraging to know that I was now subject to all these disorders. And it also made quite plain the possibility of pregnancy. This was the worst of all. I was a man and I couldn't even contemplate the idea of becoming pregnant, but it turned out I could and probably would provided I made it with some man. Well that was something that wasn't going to happen very soon, in fact ever. But this thought nearly made me laugh. No way, no how, would I ever sleep with a man. Maybe with a woman, I supposed as a lesbian, but I really could only imagine what they did together, but never with a man. I was thinking it would even be more acceptable to do it with a man if I was still male, a horrible thought but one that was more acceptable as doing it with a man as a female. But it was now after eight in the evening and I was hungry again. After a pork chop, fried rice, a salad and some canned corn, I went to bed and watched TV the rest of the night. After the late night news, I turned off the TV and fell asleep. It had been a hard day and I needed the release. * * * -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /