Message-ID: <28262asstr$978703805@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Louis Nessus" Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; format=flowed X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 03 Jan 2001 02:25:52.0117 (UTC) FILETIME=[7E1C5250:01C0752C] Subject: {ASSM} Nessus RP:A Matter of Design Pts 5-6 (TG) Date: Fri, 5 Jan 2001 09:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, kelly, RuiJorge This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy scenes of graphic sexual activity. Please, if you are under the age of 18, or if you will be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read no further - delete file. Otherwise ....enjoy! Distribute freely if you wish but, please, not to minors A Matter of Design. by Nessus (Part 5) I woke up screaming. For a moment, I had thought again it had been a bad dream, that I was still Paul Groves, until I opened my eyes fully and looked down. That's when I screamed. A nurse rushed in and, assuming I had suffered a nightmare, comforted me. A few moments later, Barbara walked in. "Thank you, nurse," she said and watched the nurse leave the room. When the door closed, she spoke," No one else here knows your old story." I noticed she said "old" instead of true. "Let's keep it that way. Now," she smiled, "let me show you to the bathroom and our first lessons can begin. I noticed the IV's were gone, with just some plaster on the inside of my elbows to show where they'd been. Barbara helped me out of bed and guided me to the private bathroom. As she steadied me, I stared at myself in the full length mirror. Slightly shorter than Barbara, I had a full mouth, wide blue eyes and high cheeks bones. My face was beautiful. Involuntarily, my eyes wandered down to my large breasts, wide hips and the sparse blonde pubic hair between my long legs. Barbara's dark hand on my arm accentuated the whiteness of my skin. "Not too bad, eh?" Barbara said kindly. "No," I mumbled. "I suppose not." Doctor Munro pointed at the toilet. "Sit," she commanded." And do what comes naturally." I did and Barbara showed me how important it was to wipe properly and showed me how to wash myself thoroughly in the shower. When she had finished the instructions, I jumped into the shower and started soaping myself. As I shampooed my long hair, I found myself thinking I would have loved to soak in a bath but the shower was nice. I was surprised, As Paul, I hated baths as a waste of valuable time. After conditioning my hair, I washed off, towelled myself dry and wrapped a towel into a turban around my hair. Barbara handed me a robe and I slipped into it. The realisation of my simple actions hit me. "Barbara," I asked suddenly, pointing at the turban. "How did I do that?" She led me in to the bedroom and gestured for me to sit on the bed. I did, making sure the robe was closed properly. "You must remember," she began, "that Doctor Winston planned to use your body herself. She had all ready created a layer of basic female memories, patterns, rhythms and habits as the basic foundation for her transference process." "So female stuff is all ready in my head?" Barbara laughed. "That's one way of putting it." "I see. In the shower, I found myself wishing for a bath instead of a shower. Is that another thing from my head?" "Probably. Nothing like soaking in a hot luxurious bath. Anyway, a lot of what you need to know is there, " she pointed at my head. "We just have to make sure it fits with you and that you understand. Have you thought of a name?" she asked suddenly. I shook my head. "I have." "What?" "Lucy. Lucy Paul." "Lucy," I said softly, listening to the sound of it. "It's nice." "Okay Lucy," Barbara said, opening a drawer, "let's introduce you to the practical side of women's underwear." Smiling, she produced a white bra and panties. Standing, I dropped the robe and stepped into the panties and slipped the bra on. Surprisingly, my fingers connected the straps behind me without a problem. Startled, I looked at Barbara. "Those little things will become part of your life soon. Don't worry. Now, sit and we'll dry your hair." I sat in front of the mirror and watched my breasts rise and fall in the white lace bra while Barbara used the hair dryer. A tiny voice inside me protested that, as a man, I shouldn't be dressed in women's lacy underwear, that I must look ridiculous. The truth was that I felt comfortable in the lingerie and the bra certainly made my large breasts more comfortable. I also knew, intuitively, I didn't look ridiculous. If the old Paul Groves could see me as I was now, I knew it would have an instant erection. I smiled at the thought. "There," said Barbara. "Nice and simple." She had brushed my long hair straight back over my shoulders and down my back in a loose pony-tail, held with a simple green scrunch. "You'll have to take a lot of care with your hair if you're going to keep it long. "Now," she said, handing me a lipstick," let's see if your mind remembers other things." I took the lipstick and slid it open and, before I knew it, was quickly applying it to my lips. Looking around the table, I picked up some blusher and lightly applied it to my cheeks and a hint of eye make-up to make my eyes wider. As I blotted my lips Barbara started at the reflection. "Wow," she said and I blushed. Wonder flowed through me. How did I do that? She picked a simple white dress from the wardrobe and handed it to me. I slipped it over my head, careful not to get make-up on it and flicked my hair out. Simple white sandals followed. Twirling in front of the mirror, I critically looked at myself. The tiny voice in mind said this wasn't right, against the laws of nature but I still liked what I saw. So did Barbara. "Lucy," she said, putting an arm around me as we stared at the reflection, "you are beautiful. I'm jealous". Barbara produced a pill and a paper cup of water. "Take your vitamin and we'll go down to cafeteria for breakfast." Swallowing the pill, I followed Barbara out the door and into the corridor. A feeling of apprehension swept over me and I faltered, stomach churning, but suddenly as the feeling came it passed and I felt quite calm and serene. Barbara waited, looking cool and in control in her dark blue suit and cream blouse, smiling at me and taking my hand. "You'll be fine," she whispered, dropping my hand as we walked down the hall, my dress rustling around me. The actual act of walking was strange with my centre of gravity changed and my breasts in my peripheral vision. A young man in a white uniform passed us. "Good morning Doctor Munro," he said, his eyes travelling over me. "Hi Don." As we moved a few steps further on, Barbara whispered out of the side of her mouth. "I bet he's giving you the once over. Can you feel it?" "Yes," I answered truthfully. "Don't look back," she warned. "Unless you're interested," she teased. "Barbara!" I hissed. "Don't!" The cafeteria was busy, full of staff and patients alike. Sunlight streamed in from large windows that overlooked the rolling ocean. A buzz of conversation, people laughing and the clink of plates and utensils filled the room. Barbara grabbed a tray and lined up and I quickly followed suit. "Fruit, juice and cereal," Barbara instructed. "Coffee as well, if you like." Nodding, I placed some muesli and fresh fruit on the tray and moved with Barbara to the drinks section. "Good morning, Doctor Munro," a tall dark man behind the counter called, glancing at me. "Hi Bob," answered Barbara. "Bob, this is Lucy. She's with us for a little time." "Hello Lucy," he smiled, eyes starting at my breasts, lingering on my face and moving back to my breasts. God, I thought, was I that obvious when I was Paul? "Hello, Bob," I said shyly. "Juice and coffee for me, Bob," Barbara requested. While Bob was pouring, he glanced at me and my breasts again. "What would you like, Lucy?" "Juice and a cup of tea, please." "Tea," he smiled. "You must be British?" I glanced at Barbara. As Paul, I had never liked tea and preferred coffee. Barbara quickly jumped in. "Ah, Bob, that's a mystery to keep you on your toes. Have a good day," she said, picking up her tray and moving away. "You too, Doctor. And you as well, Lucy," he smiled as I followed Barbara, knowing he was probably watching me walk. "Get used to it, girl," Barbara said as she sipped a juice, her white teeth shining in her beautiful dark face. "What?" "Come on. It always happens. Breasts first, then legs, a short glance at the face and back again to the breasts. It's the way of the world. Man's world." "I wonder if I was that obvious. As Paul, I mean." "I never met Paul but he was a man. Pretty horny one, I hear." I lowered my eyes and took a spoonful of muesli. "So, my guess is he would have been far worse than Bob. Bob's a nice guy, harmless, friendly and cheerful. He's one of the few men that I've seen that smiles almost as much as a woman. He is, however, a guy. A guy," she emphasised. "You should remember how guys act." I did and wanted to change the subject. "This must be very exclusive to have a view like that," I said, motioning towards the windows." "Barbara nodded. "How long will I be here? Where do I go from here?" "I want you here for a minimum two weeks as I want you to be here when you experience your first menstruation." I blushed and Barbara smiled gently. "Something else to get used to. After that," she said, looking away for a moment, "well, we'll just have to wait and see. Now, eat your breakfast." (Part 6) After breakfast, I had a complete physical examination from Barbara, a unique experience and so different from Paul's quick stops at the doctor when he had an ache or a virus. This was intense and embarrassing. When I complained, Barbara became annoyed. "Stop whining," she said crossly, "this is necessary. Imagine what it would be like if I were a man." I looked at her, framed by my legs in the stirrups. "Worse?" I said softly and she started to laugh. "You believe it, Lucy. But we girls have to keep our health." She stood up. "Okay, sit up and we'll start the guided tour." For the rest of the morning, I received detailed instructions, almost a users guide to my new body. I was curious, embarrassed to show my ignorance (and I was truly ignorant as I found) and absorbed in the implications. I quickly came to appreciate Barbara's earthy way of expressing herself and her honesty. In a few short hours it was like we had been buddies for years and years. Once or twice I couldn't remember something and Barbara became cross again. Once, she put her hands on her hips as her dark eyes glared at me. "How many woman did you have sex with?" she snapped. Obviously, she meant as Paul. "I can't remember," I mumbled, looking away and flicking my hair. "A lot, though," she prodded. "I guess." I looked to the side, trying to avoid her gaze. "Did you ever consider the woman or was it all for you?" she sneered. That hurt and a few distant memories rushed across my mind. "No, never," I admitted. Then, suddenly, I burst into tears, rocked by the memory of what I had been, what I had done and by the new reality of what I had become. Barbara silently gave me a tissue and I snuffled into it. "I was terrible, Barbara. And I've just realised it. I used a lot of people." "And they probably used you, Lucy," she said softly. "And I can't get used to this crying at the slightest thing." Barbara nodded. " We women are emotional. It's actually good therapy. Men should try it." "I guess I am trying it," I said pushing the tissue up my sleeve. Barbara watched me do it in fascination. "Yes," she said slowly, "I guess you are. Anyway," she said with false brightness, "back to work." We worked through until lunch. Barbara produced a small hamper of sandwiches and we walked through the gardens to find a spot to picnic. It was wonderful to be outside in the sun, wind blowing my hair and my dress as we walked through the lush and beautiful gardens. We found a bench and I stared out onto the rolling ocean below us. "This is so beautiful," I sighed. "So wonderful." "Yes," said Barbara and I suddenly realised she was staring at me. "You are, you know," she said seriously. "You've handled this so well." "Apart from screaming every time I wake." "That's not bad. It could be worse." "Try to kill myself?" I asked and she nodded slightly. "I'm not the type." "That's what I mean. You've handled this well." "I have no choice," I said. "Yes, I know that but I don't think I could have handled this happening to me as well as you have." "I'm sure you could," I said and patted her hand. Suddenly frozen, I looked at my white fingers on her black arm. "Don't worry, Lucy," Barbara said softly. "It's simply a very female gesture. We females like to touch." She licked her red lips and I felt drawn into her dark eyes. After a moment, I pulled back. "Tell me Doctor," I said gaily," do you spend this much time with all your patients?" Barbara slowly selected a sandwich. "No," she said, "only those that have changed gender overnight." "Oh," I said, "all of those patients," and we both laughed. For the rest of the lunch we enjoyed the sun and talked about simple things, colours of flowers, the sea and the beach. That afternoon, I was introduced to the body movement and gender guidance counsellors. They had been advised that I had suffered a traumatic incident and had lost or confused my gender identities and were there to guide me on the little things. By little things, I mean how to sit properly, how to walk, how to throw a ball and all the other moves that would indelibly identify me as female. A lot, so they told me, I was all ready unconsciously doing and they were convinced it was because my real identity was surfacing. Little did they know. It occurred to me that, even after just one day awake, my real identity was slipping away. And I was coldly watching that identity die. I did learn a lot though, an incredible amount really. I also learnt something about myself. One of the counsellors was a forty something male with a ginger beard. During the session I discovered that a smile from me aimed directly at him had interesting results. His chest swelled, he gave a little grin and he obviously felt good about himself. Amazing, a smile bolsters self esteem in the urban male. Perhaps, I thought l sarcastically to myself, I could write a paper on it an become a doctor like Barbara. The last session for the day was a brief one with a fitness instructor who ran through the right food groups and the correct amount of exercise as well as an exercise program. The hospital had a fully equipped gymnasium and I could use it anytime I wanted to. Dinner was a light meal in the cafeteria alone. I hadn't seen Barbara since lunch but I assumed she had a lot of patients and work to attend to so I headed for the cafeteria for a quite meal on my own. It didn't work out that way. As soon as I lined up, a young man asked if he could help me. I smiled, shook my head and moved on. Bob was eating at a table and when he saw me, rushed over to offer help with my tray. "Lucy," he implored, taking my tray in one quick movement, "sit with me. I've just finished my shift. Please?" he smiled. I was trapped and I had just learnt how much stronger a male was. He just took the tray from me without the slightest effort. Damn it, I have to work out more! Sitting down, I started on my meal while Bob moved things around on his tray and the silence dragged on. At last, Bob spoke. "So," he said, "you're British?" "British?" I said, surprised. "I beg your pardon?" "See," he said, smiling broadly. "You are. You just said a British thing." It didn't matter what Barbara said, this man was a moron. "I'm sorry," I said coolly," a British thing?" He was really laughing now and that really annoyed me. "Lucy, you sound like a Shakespearian actress or something." That shocked me. I was saying things differently. Maybe he was right. How was I to know? Thankfully, we had an interruption. "Bob, how's it going?" A males voice cut it and a familiar looking man stood next to the table, smiling down at me. "Oh, hi Don," a sullen Bob answered. "Well, Bob," said Don, smiling broadly at me, "introduce me." "Yeah. This is Lucy." "Hello Lucy." Eyes to my breasts, up to my face and down to my breasts again. How predictable. "I'm Don. I saw you in the corridor this morning with Doctor Munro." "Really? Nice to meet you," I said, smiled, and went back to my meal. Don appeared crestfallen while Bob smirked. "Okay guys, " a female voice broke in. "Let the lady eat in peace. On your way." Both guys quickly moved away and I turned to see a plump redhead woman of about forty and dressed in the pink uniform of the female cafeteria staff, a trolley full of dirty plates next to her. She smiled at me and I quickly returned the smile. "You looked like you wanted out." "I did, " said softly. "Thanks." "Not a problem. What's your name?" "Lucy," I replied without hesitation. "Cheryl. Nice to meet ya." "You too." I smiled warmly. "Thanks." "Thought you'd be used to all this attention, honey, with your looks." "You don't get used to it, Cheryl. I'm just sick of them looking at my tits all the time." Cheryl laugh loudly. "Honey, that's life. You'd hate it without `em. Nice to meet you." She pushed her trolley away. The sisterhood was amazing. Females assisted each other, understood each other via minute signals and had a body language all of their own. When I get back to being male, this information is going to be invaluable. What, I said to myself, get back? It can't happen. Wake up. Maybe it can. There must be someone on Winston's staff that assist. Remember, Barbara said there was no hope. You believe that? Hang on, maybe you want to believe that? Are you enjoying being a woman? Shut up, I said mentally. Shut the fuck up! Furious with myself, I swept the remains in the meal in to the garbage and, walking swiftly past a lingering Don, I made it to my room. I found a note from Barbara to take my vitamin. On the bed was a small package. Without hesitation I took the vitamin as I always felt better after wards. Quickly, I opened the package and found a pale blue silk lace teddy and matching panties. The note from Barbara said: For a special girl whom I admire. A tear came to my eye and I wiped it away. How nice and how thoughtful. Slowly, I laid the teddy and panties out on my pillow and stared at them. They were beautiful but I shouldn't want to wear them, an internal voice said, you're a man. I glanced in the mirror. I didn't look like a man and I did want to wear them. Tired from the days activities, I spent the next hour getting ready for bed. Without hesitation, I slipped into the gift from Barbara and preened in front of the mirror. I knew that if the old Paul could see me now, he just wouldn't get an erection, I knew for a fact he would cum! Smiling at that, I leapt into bed, read a magazine for while and then sleepily and flicked the light off. In the darkness, the voices took over, arguing about right and wrong, girls versus boy. Luckily I was just too tired and I fell into a deep sleep. _________________________________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free E-mail from MSN Hotmail at http://www.hotmail.com. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+