Many thanks to Holly and Shelly for editing help.

Suddenly
By Gwen Brown

The feeling overwhelmed me so suddenly I had no chance to resist. Now I would do anything he asked of me.

Hello, my name is Carrie. He has not given me a last name. My name was not always Carrie. It was something else before, but I cannot utter it, or even write it.

I was hiking up a woodland trail about 40 miles from town. The day was beautiful and the scent of the mountain pines made me feel refreshed. As I walked, I took note of the birds and other wild life. I almost felt as if I was a brother to them somehow.

I could hear a stream running as I walked. It was out of sight in the underbrush but the sound it made was relaxing to me. I really felt as if these hikes somehow healed my spirit

Up ahead I heard a noise on the trail and assumed it was another hiker coming my way. As I proceeded up the trail, I noticed that the birds had stopped singing. An eerie silence had washed through the forest. I began to wonder if a bear or cougar were stalking me. Fear began to build in me as I walked. I didn’t have a weapon of any kind to defend myself, and the thought occurred to me that perhaps I should simply turn around and flee back down the trail.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw a man round the corner perhaps 50 yards ahead of me. I began to rehearse what I would say to him. I was nervous around strangers, and I couldn’t keep it from showing in my voice when I talked to them. Often I would mispronounce words or even become tongue-tied. Those who knew me were usually very understanding.

As he neared, I managed to squeak out, "Hello, it’s a nice day, isn't it?" There, I had done it. Only a little fear showed this time. That's the reason I liked to hike alone. I had no people to fear.

I thought it strange at first that he did not reply. It made me feel devalued and hurt. I began to mutter epithets under my breath, trying to salve my feelings. My eyes were suddenly wet. "Who needed him, anyhow?" I told myself in a whisper. I suddenly hoped it was not too loud and that he had not heard me. I quickened my pace, hoping distance between us would lessen the humiliation.

Much to my surprise, I suddenly heard his voice. It was deep and compelling. I felt drawn toward him in a way I cannot explain, and immediately froze in my tracks, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Yes, it is a good morning. Come here and sit with me?" he suggested. I turned and with little hesitation, started walking along the trail toward him. I couldn’t help myself. ‘What am I doing? This man is a stranger. Anything could happen.’ I reasoned.

Anything did happen. I lost my will in a few words. My resolution was so absent I didn’t even sense its loss as I walked over and sat on a fallen log right next to him. As he looked me over from feet to head, I didn’t feel fright any more. I didn’t feel anything.

As he appraised me for a few minutes I felt suspended like a butterfly pinned to a board.

"That is no way for a lady to sit, is it?" His voice had a strange tonal quality, though I couldn’t tell exactly what was odd about it.

I sat up straight, pulled my thighs together, angled my thighs to the side, and kept them together. I knew I would do whatever he said.

I placed my hands in my lap, folded. "I'm sorry, Sir, I won't do it again.” Something inside me screamed like a prisoner locked in a cage. It began to fight its way out, breaking the control. Looking into his eyes, I could sense that he knew I was fighting him. I felt panic. I could not move at all.

A smile spread across his face. "Good, I had hoped you would not go too easily. I love a good contest of wills, don't you?" He sounded amused at my efforts to break the control. I almost surfaced several times, only to be driven back by his stronger will. In the end, he overpowered me with so little effort it amused him.

"I shall make you my little toy," he told me. While his words terrified me, there was a kindness in his voice which was unmistakable. I was scandalized, because everything I tried to do to resist, he simply brushed aside. To add to my shame, in the end I wanted him to conquer me. He’d uncovered a long smoldering ember in me. What had I become?

I couldn't remember anything as I wakened. I was lying on the ground beside the log, in the fetal position. I was just recovering from the most exquisite feeling I had ever experienced. I had masturbated before, but this was nothing like it. I could hear myself moaning, not in pain, but in pleasure. I felt inside out, yet slowly I was returning to normal. I could feel the waves of pleasure subsiding. I tried to do something to prolong the pleasure, but could not.

He looked at me, amused. He didn't have to tell me what would happen the next time I resisted. "There will be more if you behave yourself,” he promised me. Calling me ‘Young Lady,’ he bid me follow him as he rose and made his way back up the trail. We walked toward Bald Peak for almost an hour before he turned North off the trail and moved into a part of the woods where I’d never been. We stopped, and I had only time to hear, "Time to sleep again."

I wakened lying in a bed in a bedroom which was decorated in a strange combination of Science Fiction and Victorian decor. It all felt very tasteful, and I immediately liked the room. My body felt drained and then I understood that he had put me out again without even touching me. I could remember pleasure, but that was all.

Feeling too consumed to move, I looked sleepily around the room. It felt so very feminine, yet I felt relaxed and at home. ‘At home? What am I thinking?’ I looked at the dressing table with its lace covering and oval mirror, seeing several necklaces hanging there and somehow knew they were mine. The bed I was in felt so soft and comfortable that I felt myself slipping off to sleep again. My last thought was to wonder what was in my closet.

The sun was just setting when I wakened again. I felt so much more refreshed than the first time I had wakened. I had to pee urgently. I sprang out of bed hoping to find a bathroom right away. Surprisingly, my bedroom had its own bath.

Knowing it was my bedroom felt so odd. I began to ask myself questions. ‘What am I doing here? I am obviously a man, and this is a woman's room.' Sitting there on the toilet, I began to take stock of my situation. I had sat, when I could have just stood to take a piss. I knew everything was still intact. I knew I was a male.

As soon as that thought passed through my head, I asked myself what kind of male I was. Self-doubt about myself surfaced to an unusual extent, and began to wash over me like some tidal wave. I felt crushed by the disappointment I felt in myself. I was such a lousy male. At the ripe old age of 25, I had never had a date. I only spoke to women when they talked to me.

In a surge of rebellion, I stopped pissing and stood up. I turned around and began to piss like a male. It flowed okay but when the splashes began to hit my legs, it was so revolting, I didn't know what to do. I almost vomited.

I knew something was wrong, because I had never felt revolted by what had to be a completely normal male experience. Something had changed, because the act was so unappealing now that I did not even want to think of it. Abruptly it occurred to me that it was HIM. HE had done this to me. I felt angry and very afraid.

I knew I had to get out of there. I began rushing around the room looking for my clothes. I searched all the dressers and three closets and couldn’t find them.

I decided to see what was outside this room, at the same time anticipating that he would have probably locked it.

Much to my surprise, the door opened. I appeared to be alone, at least in this part of the house. The hallway was richly carpeted in deep brown and the walls had matching wallpaper above dark wainscoting. ‘What a luxurious place,’ I thought. Much to my surprise, my clothes were outside the door, neatly folded and in a paper bag.

I quickly grabbed them and closing the door, put my old underwear on just like I always had, and picked up my pants. I was feeling uneasy. Those panties were dirty. Why had I called them dirty? When I got up this morning, it would not have bothered me at all.

Still bothered, but not deterred, I started to orient my pants to put them on. When my wallet fell out of the pocket I picked it up and it fell open to my drivers' license. I looked at it a moment. Yep, that was me. Gee, why did I always look so goofy when they took my picture. Then I realized that I could not read my own name. I knew my name, I thought, but when I began to say it I couldn’t continue. I couldn’t even think about my name.

In shock, I stood there, staring at my picture, wishing I could read my name. This was so upsetting my eyes began to fill with tears. I screamed with anguish and began to sob so hard that I fell on my butt. Repeatedly I screamed, as if I screamed hard enough it would all be okay. Deep inside I knew it wouldn't ever be okay again.

"What have you done to me? Why did you do this?" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Falling on the floor I wept for a long time. I lost track of how long it was. Finally, my sobbing just ran out of force. I had no energy left, and just lay there staring at nothing in particular.

I began to wonder what would happen to me. I gradually began to pull myself together. I couldn’t put my pants on. Not caring why, I tore out of the room and down the hallway. Most of the doors were locked, but one was a laundry room and another looked like a family room. I found a kitchen and a storage area full of canned goods and cleaning supplies.

There, just outside the storage room was what appeared to be the doorway outside. I knew I had to leave before he caught me. I had to get away from him while I had this last chance. Who knew what he planned to do to me. I had no idea that he had already started doing it, but in very subtle ways.

I ran outside wearing just my underwear. There it was again. Something in my mind said they were panties, despite their appearance.

I had run almost a mile, I would guess, when there he was on the trail in front of me again. I knew it would be useless to run, but I had to try. I turned and ran off into the woods, but just as I thought he was allowing me to leave, I heard his damnable voice again, calling to me. I hated it. It frightened me more than anything I had ever experienced.

"Why don't you come over here and talk to me, Dear." he asked. I suddenly felt powerless and impotent. I didn't resist as hard this time, because I knew he would win. I wondered if I actually wanted him to win. I couldn't think straight. It was awful. It frightened me so much.

I stopped, and without hesitation or any other indication that I was fighting him, walked back to where he was standing. Facing him, I began to look into his eyes, which seemed so deep and unfathomable.

He stood there looking at me from head to toe. I actually began to wish he would say something, anything. Finally, he did. "Your efforts to resist me are so feeble. Why did you try it?"

I knew he was not really expecting an answer. I was afraid to speak. He kept looking at my eyes and I could not look away. It was as if he could see clear to my very soul.

"Deep inside you know that you can't just give in to me. What would happen to your self respect?" he asked. My lower lip began to shake. I knew the real answer and didn’t want to face it.

So then he had to say it. "It's because you really want me to win, but you can not face it yet."

With those words I could no longer look him in the eyes. My own eyes fell, and I began to weep. I wept harder and harder, and began to fall down. He caught me before I did and gathered me in his arms. That caress broke me. I wept in great wracking sobs that were so violent I just wanted to die.

He held me until it subsided. He stood there holding me for a long time, as if he had all the time in the world.

I was nearly asleep in his arms when he said, "Now, why don't you come with me, Dear and I shall make you as you ought to be."

‘What does he mean "ought to be?" What does he know? What gives him the right to determine how I ought to be?’ I vainly tried to be angry, but I did not have the energy. I followed him obediently back to his mansion, wondering how far I was from where he took me. I had no clue.

"Now Dear, why don't you go up to your room and shower? Then put on the clothes which are laid out there and come back down to dinner."

This time I did as I was told, willingly, knowing not only that I could not escape, but that I did not want to any longer.

After the shower I felt almost cheerful and rested, feeling completely empty of all emotion, as if I didn't have a single tear or sob left in me. It felt strange, but calm and pleasant.

I walked into the bedroom and found someone had laid clothes out for me. There were marvelous silken panties with just a hint of lace at the sides. I knew I had no breasts but I put on the bra with no qualms. I'd seen enough to know how to do it and how it should look. I feared to touch the outside of the cups, knowing they would collapse under my fingers. ‘Am I actually longing for breasts?’ I half expected stockings and a garter belt; After all, hadn’t I been kidnapped by some predator?

There were just panty hose. Almost disappointed, I put them on. I was thankful I had spent extra time after the shower primping and fixing my nails so they would not snag the fragile hose. How had known to do that?

I emerged into the hall wearing a pretty blue gingham dress and low heels. I had no makeup on and I'd just combed my boyish hair. As I emerged from the end of the hallway, I saw him sitting in a chair at the breakfast table. Feeling nervous, I walked over to the table and stood there.

“Tomorrow you will meet your maid, dresser and teacher,” he told me. He explained that Mary usually stayed out of the way until we accepted what was going to happen to us.

I asked how many of "US" there had been but I got a reproving look and got no answer. I did not bring the matter up again.

He appraised me for a few moments and then smiled. "You look beautiful." He told me. My head was throbbing, because my heart was pounding. I almost missed it when he said, "I shall call you Carrie." At once I had a very deep feeling of "rightness" in me. I instinctively knew it was right, and I was becoming who I had always been and never even suspected it.

I did not know how he did it, but often I would waken to another new remodeling of some part of my body. He once told me that most of my dimensions were close enough to the norm that no extensive skeletal changes were required. He did, however, do something to my pelvis. I was slightly sore the next morning and for a time afterward. He never told me how he’d accomplished what he did.

He did put me on a diet and I reduced from 165 to 134. At 5' 8" I was still a healthy young woman. He said he did not make ‘Twiggys’. I didn't know what he was talking about until he explained it. I didn't know who Twiggy was. It took some time to become accustomed to "C" breasts.

After I had been with him for what I had thought was a year, I wakened one morning feeling sick, with cramping in my stomach. He'd been quite sharp with me a couple times in the last few days. When he’d said I was acting out of sorts, I bawled, and he became frustrated. We ate in silence that night. Now I knew it was me who had been out of sorts and now I knew why. The flow started later that day.

Some times I can wear a size 8 or 10, but on truly sized clothes I usually have to settle for a 12. He says I have a very cheerful palette; preferring clothing to be colorful and form fitting, but never too short or exposing too much.

I never understood exactly where we were because I always seemed to fall asleep in the car as we drove to town. Oddly, one shopping trip would be to LA, and then another would be in Denver. He even took me to New York once.

One spring, he asked me if I wanted to go to college in the fall. I felt as if I was getting too old. I had no idea how much time had elapsed but I felt as if I must be at least 30 although my looks belied that. Looking in the mirror, I could never be sure if I looked 30 or 18. I was afraid to think I was 18. That had to be a fantasy.

When I was silent for a long time, he asked me how old I thought I was. He laughed when I told him 30. "Let's see, you are about to start college, you'll be 18." I knew I was in for some prank because of that certain gleam in his eye. I knew better than to dispute him after what he had accomplished with my body.

I was deep in thought for several moments. Then, for the first time, I felt real gratitude for his exposing me for who I was and then healing my body to match my brain.

My voice almost failed me when I stood in front of him and said, "Thank you, Sir. May I kiss you?" He looked at me with that little gleam in his eye. "Why would you think a girl needs to ask for permission?" I didn’t know how he would do it, but I knew one morning I would waken at the age of 18.

It happened the morning after he moved me into a little Ohio town with a junior college. I asked if I would be permitted to have a job, and he gave me his permission. I knew after my first day with him, I could not do anything that he did not allow me to do. He did not live there with me, but he showed up frequently to pay bills and give me instruction. As we talked about the boy I worked with, he said the boy would be a fool not to have a crush on me. He only smiled as the redness spread up my neck to envelop my face.

By now, my brown hair had grown down to just below my shoulders. I had no inclination to cut it. I usually just washed it and brushed it out, although one time I got ringlets in it to be part of a wedding. It took so long for them to go away. When I complained to him he just smiled. I knew I would have to work this one out on my own.

My second year in college, I met a boy. He was everything I ever wanted in a man. When I was near this boy, it made me feel really funny. He took me out a lot. I really enjoyed going to an authentic 50’s style fountain where he would buy each of us a real vanilla malt. We talked about everything. I found it really difficult to sit still when we talked. He had this way of looking at me that made me wiggle and squirm in my seat.

We did not have sex. I had the feeling that HE would be upset.

In our conversations, I discovered that the boy had known HIM for about a year. I wondered if HE had remodeled the boy just for me.

One morning after we were married, Dan and I were playing in the bedroom. Dan has a way of making me giggle so hard that I almost can’t move, and I get really hysterical. When he is doing that I can't stand it, but sometimes when he stops I do things to him to entice him to attack me again. I am so happy with him. That night in a dream, at least I think it was a dream, HE came to me.

"Well Carrie, are you sorry I took you?" he asked.

I sensed something was different about this meeting. "I fought you at first. I'm sorry," I replied.

"Why are you sorry you fought me? It would have been no challenge if you had you not." There was that gleam in his eye again that let me know he was playing with me.

"I was never a challenge to you. You took me and I could not stop you."

"Do you wish you could have stopped me?" he inquired.

"I would have been a fool, and you know it." He was leaving, and I knew it. For a few moments nothing passed between us but feelings of love and gratitude.

"Will I see you again?" I asked. I could feel emotion welling up in my chest. I hoped I would not be robbed of speech when I so needed to talk to him.

"It is time I move on," he told me.

Tears started flowing down my face. He smiled at me. I stood on my toes and kissed him. "Thank you, Sir."

"You are very welcome, Carrie Ann Brown."

I wakened suddenly to the sound of a man in the street laughing loudly. Disoriented, I realized that I had been dreaming, but the man in the street was no dream. Careful not to wake Dan, I crept out of bed and ran to the window. He was just passing around the corner. I only got a short glimpse of him. I just knew it was he.

I never saw him again, but at special times, like when the children were born, I had the feeling he was looking in on me. I would hear his laugh or see a glimpse of someone familiar.

I never knew his name. I try hard to be his best project.

END NOTE :

I am writing this note almost 5 years since I published this story. In retrospect, I now see it as a sort of Transgender "50 Shades of Grey". I tried to portray some of my deepest needs and wishes. Yes there is a relationship between pain and pleasure for me, the knowledge that I have not run my own life well and need someone to help me.