When a woman runs away to escape the pressures from her rich parent’s attempts to control her life and ends up in deepest darkest Africa. She never realised that getting bitten from a mutated snake will make her escape permanent and that her lover will end up taking her place as her parent’s daughter.
By Prudence Walker
Brandon paced up and down the concourse overlooking arrivals, as he waited anxiously in the airport. Angela, his ex-girlfriend, was due to arrive in a few minutes, and he was impatient to see her after her extended sojourn in Africa.
He watched the jet she was on nose into the docking gantry before moving down to where she would emerge from customs. He thought back to the call on his cell phone, she had made a few days ago. It was the only thing left of hers, which he still had in his possession.
"Brandon, I need your help urgently, can you meet me at the airport, my flight is ... " she’d carried on, filling him in on the details of her flight.
He hadn’t wanted to meet her, as their parting wasn’t exactly amicable, but something in her voice told him something was very wrong, and he wasn’t the type to turn his back on a woman in trouble, even if she had caused him some grief.
When she taken off to deepest, darkest Africa, after their final breakup, her rich parent’s had then blamed him for the loss of their daughter. They doted on their daughter, spoiling her with everything she could desire.
Brandon, who had been staying with Angela in her flat, had then had to move out. For a guy out of work, with little prospects, this was a major blow. Admittedly he had been sponging off Angela’s wealth, but seeing he had been hoping to marry her, he didn’t think it was a bad thing.
Living out of a suitcase from out of the back of his old Buick, for two weeks, had been a rude awakening. He had heard that her parents were out to get him as they thought he was at fault for driving Angela away.
"Brandon! Over here," a high sweet voice called to him.
He looked to his left, dragging his thoughts to the present, as he spied Angela’s blonde hair and her waving hand among those milling around her. He worked his way over to her, his heart pumping as she stirred something inside of him. Even though she had left, saying it was all over between them, he still loved her, which made her absence all the more harder to take.
"Here, let me take that," he said, taking the single suitcase from her.
Angela gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before taking a good look at him.
"What happened to you? You look like a deadbeat," she asked, seeing his rumpled clothing.
"Well living out of my car doesn’t exactly help matters; it’s hard to keep clothes nice and tidy when you have to sleep in them." He finished, looking embarrassed at the state of his attire.
"What about my apartment?" Angela pressed, as they moved out of the terminal towards where he had parked.
"When you left, I waited a couple of days before I rang your parents to see if you where there." Brandon grimaced at the memory of that call and the repercussions that followed soon after.
"I guess they weren’t pleased," Angela hinted, knowing her parent’s disliked her choice in boyfriend.
"You might say that, calling the police, and accusing me of kidnapping, isn’t what I’d call being nice. If it wasn’t for your note and the fact that you’d packed a suitcase, I’d be probably be entertaining some brute in prison somewhere," Brandon ground out, as he unlocked the car door.
Angela politely refrained from commenting on the rank smell inside the car, as she already felt guilty about what she was going to subject Brandon to very soon. Brandon heard her sniff and started to apologize.
"Just drive to this address, we can pick up my car there," she broke in, handing him an address on a piece of paper.
Brandon drove to the address, which turned out to be a long-term storage facility. He waited in the car, trying to work out his feelings about Angela, while she went inside to get her car. A beep startled him out of his reverie, having come nowhere in his decision. Angela waved for him to get into her car, which he did reluctantly.
"Where are you going? Should I follow you?" he asked. "Hey! What about my clothes?" he yelled, as Angela started to drive off. "I left the keys in it ... wait up Angela," he screamed panicking, as she floored her BMW.
"Shut up and listen, your car will be taken care of," she said with a tone of finality. "The clothes can be replaced, seeing they are a bit on the nose. We have a lot to do before my parents come visiting my flat," she commanded.
Brandon slumped, feeling defeated, she was right. His clothes had seen better days.
"You called your parents?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes, while they were getting my car ready. I told them on no circumstances, were they to come to the flat till I unpacked and that I’d ring them," she finished, pulling into a high-end shopping centre.
"Stay in the car, you’re in no fit state to walk into the shops I want," she ordered, as he made a move to follow her.
Brandon got back in and luxuriated in the far nicer seats of the Beamer. He tilted the seat back and started to doze off. Thumps from the back, woke him from his light doze, as Angela unloaded her shopping in the trunk of the car.
"You get everything?" he asked her, as she got in the front and started the car.
"Yes, you’ll see everything later, you’ll look so cute," she answered oddly.
‘Cute?’ wondered Brandon, feeling a little apprehensive as a chill ran down his spine.
Angela tossed the keys to the flat to Brandon and told him to go get a shower, while she brought in the bags. He did as ordered, even deciding to use her shampoo, to wash his hair.
"Use the conditioner, it needs it," Angela ordered, brooking no argument, as she took out his discarded clothes.
Even though he smelled like lilac, Brandon felt much better with clean hair. It was longer than he’d ever had it, and it had got matted and horrible, from sleeping in the back seat of his car.
Finding only a robe of Angela’s hanging on the bathroom door, his clothes having been removed earlier, he was about to call out for something to wear.
"Use the robe," Angela called out, anticipating this moment.
Sheepishly, Brandon slunk out wearing the mauve satin robe. Being of similar body size to Angela, meant that it fit him reasonably well.
"Well don’t you look cute?" Angela quipped, looking up from writing something in a book.
"I may not seem much of a man in your eyes, but please stop calling me cute," Brandon retorted, finding his backbone. He remembered Angela’s parting words, accusing him of constantly wanting her to dress more femininely. He knew she had loads of beautiful clothes at home, but she tended to just wear tops and pants. Angela had then thrown it back in his face, saying. ‘Seeing you can fit in my clothes, why don’t you wear them?’ When he had retorted that wearing her clothes as part of a Halloween costume had been her idea, she had then accused him of making a better woman than a man, before storming out. She had left the next day.
"Tell me what’s going on, why am I here with you? I thought you couldn’t stand me," he ranted.
Angela put down the book in her hand and patted the seat next to her.
"Please sit down, and I’ll explain."
Brandon sat, remembering to sweep the robe under him, like Angela had drummed into him two months ago, when he was practicing wearing her dress for Halloween.
"You know I left for South Africa? Well part of the reason was the pressure from my parents. They kept on about being with you, saying you were a deadbeat ... "
"But it wasn’t my ... " Brandon tried to explain.
Angela waved off his words. "My mother was like you, constantly urging me to wear elegant clothes more suited to my station. All those clothes you saw? She bought them all ... I swear she used to measure me in my sleep, to get the right sizes." She paused before continuing, getting back her train of thought.
"It all got too much for me, I wanted out, so I fled to a remote town where I could help the needy. I had withdrawn 10,000 dollars and was all set."
"I’m sorry, I didn’t know."
"I love my parents, but sometimes they smother me. I came back, because I nearly died," Angela said, shocking him.
"Huh? You? What happened?" Brandon gasped.
"I was out in a remote area, helping distribute clothing, when I was bitten by a type of Boomslang, it’s a type of tree snake," she elaborated. "Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to be given the antivenin, due to my distance away from the nearest doctor."
"So what happened? You seem okay now," asked Brandon, as he became all ears.
"I sorta died," Angela shrugged, seeing Brandon flinch back in shock.
"You what?"
"I don’t remember much, after I became unconscious, but according to the other aide worker that was with me, my heart stopped. It was only because of the intervention of the medicine man who was nearby, that I’m here today."
"Did he suck the poison out?" asked Brandon, imagining all sorts of primitive rituals.
"No, he stabbed me in the chest with a sharp stick, covered in another very potent venom. He claimed it was a magical cure all; at least that’s what he seemed to believe. He was spouting some mumbo gumbo about two spirits fighting each other. His English was minimal, so I missed a lot of his explanation."
"Sheesh, I don’t believe this shit," Brandon snorted, shaking his head.
Angela just pulled up her top, exposing her chest. Brandon looked surprised, eyeing first the swell of her breasts as they tried to escape her pink satin demi bra. Looking closer, he could see an angry scar, just under her left breast, its puckered scabby redness, proving it was of recent origin. Angela pulled down her top, when she heard his intake of breath, knowing he’d spotted the wound.
"Have you seen a doctor?" He managed, after she had readjusted herself.
"I’m fine," she answered, lying with practiced ease. "There’s nothing more to be done," she added a little more truthfully. "I realised then, that I couldn’t just disappear forever, out of my families lives, so I came back to make amends."
"What about my life?" Brandon asked, his heart beating faster. "I’m letting you stay her, but not as Brandon. If I’m going to mend bridges with my family, you will have to disappear. I’m hoping my friend Brenda will consent to stay with me," Angela finished, looking at him intently.
"Brenda? Who is she?" Brandon asked with a sinking feeling, that he was being told to leave.
"Well that’s the thing see, my parents won’t mind me having a girlfriend staying, so I was hoping you’d become her."
"Huh?"
"You will become Brenda, and stay with me," explained Angela, seeing the light of understanding, flicker in his eyes.
"You got to be kidding; you want me to dress up and act like a girlfriend just to placate your parents? What about me? What do I get out of this, other than sore feet and having trouble breathing?" he demanded, remember the tightness of the heels and corset he wore at Halloween.
"You get me, and a place to stay for free, with all your needs taken care of," Angela answered, glad that he hadn’t just flatly refused to do it.
"For how long?" he asked, wondering why he was even considering it.
"Oh for about three months, until they are satisfied that I dumped you."
"But dressing up at Halloween was one thing, I won’t be able to pull it off in front of your mother, you know what she’s like," he protested, avoiding saying her mother was nosey.
"It’s up to you, it’s either that, or leave now," Angela told him, knowing that it wouldn’t quite be that easy leaving. She had cut up his discarded clothes and thrown them in the rubbish. He would have to wear something of hers or go naked, if he refused to go along with her plan.
"Look I’ve bought things that will surprise you. Why not see if you pass, before you throw in the towel," Angela pressed, hoping he would cave in.
"Okay," he agreed heavily. "Do your worst."
"No, I’ll do my best," she chuckled, shooing him back into the bathroom. "You know what to do with this," she said, handing him a bottle of Nair.
Brandon winced, having used it at Halloween and remembering the burning itching feeling as it worked on his body hair.
"I hope you bought more of that aloe cream," he called out, as Angela busied herself with more preparations for his transformation. The cream had soothed his irritated skin, and had made his skin feel silky soft, something that had made him feel guilty for liking its new sensitivity.
"What’s all this?" Brandon asked, having finished defoliating and having applied the aloe over his body.
Angela had brought in a stool and was laying out various hair products on the sink top.
"Are you colouring my hair? Why can’t we use the fall, same as last time?" He asked in a complaining tone.
Last Halloween, with Brandon’s already longish brown hair, Angela had decided to just add a fall to help fill out his own locks, saying it was cooler than a wig and less likely to come adrift.
"We need to divert Mom’s attention from anything Brandonish. I’m going to make your hair look like mine in both style and colour. Hopefully it will remind her of mine and that should keep her thinking we’re more like sisters than someone with a dick under her skirt."
"Ah," Brandon sighed, seeing the sense in Angela’s idea.
"I hope you haven’t forgotten how to speak like a female, keeping your voice soft and using the upper part of your voice box." Angela prompted, as she started working on his hair.
"No, although I didn’t think I’d be using it again so soon," Brandon answered in a light voice more suited for her Brenda debut.
"It’s a good thing my parents never saw or heard you last Halloween, that voice is near perfect, just remember to use lots of superlatives."
The almost Brenda, shuddered at the thought of Angela’s parents, had they seen him last Halloween. It would have just have added fuel to the argument, that he was no man for their daughter to marry.
Once the ordeal of having his hair dyed and dried was over, Angela used a hairdryer to give his blonde hair some bounce, adding a new fall that matched his new look. She stood back, and looked at it, comparing it in the mirror, against her own simple style.
"That will have to do for now, we can make it better when we have more time, luckily my own hair hasn’t seen the hairdressers in a while," she commented, letting him look at it in the mirror.
Brandon, saw a nice, even dare he say it, ‘cute’ looking blonde haired female looking back at him. He knew as Brandon, that his facial features weren’t particularly masculine by any means, but with what Angela had done with his hair, his features now looked decidedly feminine. Brenda was born, for surely no one with a name like Brandon could look as cute as what he now saw in the mirror.
Angela hurried him into her bedroom, wanting to get on with the next step. She gave him a dancer’s gaff, which she’d only just bought, telling him to put that on while she got the breast forms ready. In a flurry of activity Brenda, now looked the part, with her newly attached bosoms resting in a satin 38 C bra and her manly charms now securely hidden behind the gaff and a pair of satin panties. Brenda’s curves were further enhanced with the corselet, which pushed the excess fat from her waist, to her hips and chest.
Brenda’s corselet restricted body made breathing huge lungfuls of air impossible, and helped remind her not to try and speak from deep in her chest. Angela soon had Brenda in a dress and pantyhose, before bringing out some shoes she had bought. Brenda sighed in relief, seeing the new shoes in a size larger than Angela’s. At Halloween, she’d had to force her feet into the slightly too small heels of Angela’s, which had soon become torture devices, and had left her feet sore for weeks.
The last thing Angela did, before allowing Brenda to see herself, was apply the cosmetic’s that final hid any last sign of Brandon. Angela had to prove that Brandon as Brenda would not be recognized by her family. The look on Brenda’s face when she saw herself in the mirror, told Angela, that her desperate plan was going to work.
Just then, the phone rang, so Angela went to answer it, leaving Brenda admiring her new look.
"Oh, hi Mom," Brenda heard Angela answer from the bedroom. If it weren’t already compressed, Brenda’s stomach would have clenched, as a shiver of fear swept her body at the thought of facing Angela’s mom in her present attire. Even though she could see no resemblance to her former self, there was always that lingering doubt that she’d be revealed for who and what she truly was.
"No not tonight, Mom, we are still unpacking," Brenda heard, having moved closer to the doorway to hear better.
"Oh just a friend ... a girlfriend, Mom, her name is Brenda," Angela answered.
It didn’t take much imagination to fill in her mother’s responses, given the answers Angela was supplying.
"Brenda Stewart, she’s had boyfriend troubles too, so we are sharing my place for a while ... no Mom ... I haven’t seen him ... he’s out of my life now," Angela went on.
Brenda knew who the ‘he,’ was, and wondered if Angela was ever planning for her return as Brandon.
Brenda moved away from the doorway, as Angela promised her mother that she could come around at ten the next day.
"Are you sure you love me?" accused Brenda, after Angela returned to the bedroom. "Or am I out of your life forever?" She quoted, with a resigned expression.
"Brenda ... Brandon, I do love you, despite what you might think with my running away. It’s just that I need a break from my parents always harping on about you. No matter what happens in the future, I’ll always love you and we’ll live together as man and wife," Angela pleaded, holding on to Brenda with a tight embrace.
"Prove it," demanded a somewhat mollified Brenda, dragging Angela towards the bed. Angela was more than willing to prove it as the clothes piled on the floor. She took charge, making Brenda lie on her back, still wearing her corselet.
"You can’t pleasure me with that on. It’s restricting your breathing and I’m not taking it off now," she explained, ridding herself of the last of her clothing. "I don’t want you fainting from lack of air, so just lay there and let me do all the work."
Sex as Brenda, with her breasts bouncing and her corset restricted body, was a totally new experience. Angela had freed her weapon, by just pulling her panties aside and tearing a hole in the gusset of her pantyhose. Angela had gone to town, riding Brenda like a horse, galloping off to market. Whether it was the clothes or the situation, or just because it had been a while since they had last done it, for Brenda, it was like nothing else existed. She couldn’t remember climaxing as hard nor as long as she did that night. She fell asleep in the arms of her lover, her dreams filled with disturbing images of herself having sex as Brenda.
Angela stayed awake long enough to see the two vampire like bite marks she’d given Brenda on the neck during their lovemaking, start to fade. This according to the witchdoctor come medicine man was the first step in a series of transformations that would ultimately see the two of them together again. Luckily her enlarged canines where the venom came from hadn’t been noticed by Brenda, and the venom itself anesthetized the puncture wounds so that Brenda hardly winced. Before her thoughts drifted away in slumber, she hoped Brenda would forgive her for what was to come. Angela had thought of refusing to burden Brenda with the curse, but the thought of dying and the ultimate result, made her go through with it.
Morning came with relentless urgency; as Angela drilled Brenda on her make believe history. Luckily Brandon had a great memory for trivia, and so too did Brenda Stewart, as she now learned her new life in detail.
Today, they were both dressed casually in jeans and cotton tops. Angela had given Brenda one that showed more of her cleavage than her own, as a reminder to mother that this was indeed a female.
Cynthia Conrad arrived early, ten minutes to be exact. When Brenda, after prodding from Angela, opened the door, Cynthia swept in like a mini tidal wave, barely greeting Brenda, as she sought out her daughter in the lounge. Steven Conrad stumbled along in her wake, clutching armfuls of Angela’s unworn outfits, still on their hangers and cellophane wraps.
Brenda took a load of the clothes off Steven, which earned her a grateful look, before he blushed, having eyed her endowments appreciatively. Brenda carried the clothes to Angela’s bedroom, where she started to hang them up in the walk in wardrobe. Happy to stay out of Cynthia’s way, she busied herself putting away the gowns that Steven had brought in, having followed her to the bedroom.
Steven sat on the bed watching, trying to make polite conversation with her. At first, Brenda was nervous, as she answered his questions with her recently learned bio. She was thinking, ‘is he watching because he suspects something.’ But once she glanced in the mirror as she bent to pick up a gown that had slipped from her grasp, she saw him eyeing her butt with a look that was anything but (oops) suspicious. From then on, she relaxed, playing up for him, and exaggerating her movements and making sure he got an eyeful.
Angela’s call to her, made Steven jump up guiltily as he tried to hide his appreciation showing in his trousers. Brenda’s sudden nervousness at having to face Cynthia was tinged by a mixture of disgust and exhilaration of how she had been acting and the feeling of power her new form had generated.
"Come, come child, let me look at you," was Cynthia’s first words, as she scrutinized Brenda from every angle.
Brenda stood frozen, waiting for the inevitable, it seemed like an eternity, before Cynthia sighed and turned to Angela.
"I’m not too happy with that top she’s wearing; proper ladies don’t show that much cleavage in my opinion." She huffed.’
"Mom, that’s a top I bought, she can’t help it if she’s more endowed than I am. She had to leave her clothes behind, lest her now ex boyfriend suspected she was leaving him for good. I had to throw her other clothes out, as they stank of his cigarette smoke." Angela rushed to explain.
Cynthia’s expression changed instantly, on hearing the fictitious sob story.
"My dear, how awful, I apologised completely, we must buy you some clothes immediately," she gushed out, giving Brenda a hug. "I just wish I could make your ex wear those clothes of yours as punishment," she proclaimed enthusiastically.
"Well come on daughter, get a move on, we have Brenda’s clothes crisis to remedy," she ordered, grabbing Angela’s arm and ushering them out to the car.
What followed became a blur for Brenda, as the human whirlwind known as Cynthia Conrad stormed all the up market fashion houses, dragging everyone helplessly behind her into her wake.
Brenda would have been terrified, had not Angela run interference for her. Knowing what lurked beneath Brenda’s feminine appearance. Angela toiled against the onslaught of her mother’s insistence that Brenda try this or that on, rejecting everything that might show something it shouldn’t.
Brenda seemed to sort of stand outside of herself, just going with the flow, as Angela winnowed the choices, her mother had selected. She could see Angela’s point about her just being a clotheshorse for her mother’s ideas. Cynthia reminded her of one of those cartoon characters, whose trick was to whirl like a dervish, sucking up people and spitting them out in all directions. Not only were themselves sucked up, but shop assistants and managers too. Even Steven wasn’t immune, as he followed with an open checkbook. Occasionally, he’d be spat out, having to carry purchases back to the car. All the assistants were left drained, as they too were eventually freed from Cynthia’s sphere of influence.
Brenda’s feeble outcry about the cost of things was waved aside as being no consequence. Luckily the shops did have a closing time and they were finally disgorged, before hunger became a major problem.
Brenda was exhausted from trying everything from bras to gowns, including every pair of shoes that was purchased, none of which had a heel less than two inches. Even the fluffy mules, that were the fashion for slippers had a raised heel over a flat solid sole.
Brenda despaired of ever seeing himself in men’s trousers again, with the amount of clothes that had just been bought. Later that night, she brought up her concerns to Angela.
"Honey I know you have this image of yourself as a hunky male, but let’s face it, you and I are nearly the same size. Those clothes you’re wearing will fit me, so don’t worry about it."
"Don’t worry about it ... right. Here I am dressed to the nines in a skirt with a blouse trying to contain my new tits, plus I have achy feet from wearing heels all day, shopping for more feminine stuff than I’ve seen in my life, and she says don’t worry about it," Brenda said sarcastically.
"I’m going for a shower. My skin feels itchy, it must be all the clothes I tried on today," complained Brenda, as she started to disrobe.
"Try a bath, I’ll put something in the water to soothe your aches and help with the itchiness," a worried Angela told her, as she spotted some flakey skin peeling off Brenda’s back.
‘I didn’t think it would start so quickly, damn, I’ll have to scramble if I want hide it from her,’ thought Angela, as she went and started a bath, adding some effervescent mineral salts and a capful of scented bath oils. As an added precaution, Angela went and put in some bubble bath to make a nice foamy lather.
"Stay in there till I tell you, I’m going to pop out and get something you’ll love." Ordered Angela, as she went to gather her purse to go buy what she needed.
Brenda stepped into the hot foamy water, feeling the soreness in her feet start to ebb as she lay back in the water. Her faux breasts stuck out of the foam like twin mountaintops poking above the clouds. The sight made her giggle, as she wiggled her chest to make tittie tidal waves. A thought popped into her head, slipping past the ‘what am I thinking’ censors without raising an appropriate response, as she wondered what having real breasts would feel like, in the same situation.
Although the situation was ludicrous, the bath was the first in a long while, and she relaxed, almost falling asleep. She came back from her doze to feel something gently rasping her skin. Brenda opened her eyes to see Angela stroking her with a huge loofah.
"Just keep your eyes closed while I tend to my lady's needs," Angela said deferentially, continuing the gentle massage.
"Hmmmm, God that’s incredible," moaned Brenda, closing her eyes, as she savoured her erstwhile maid’s attentions.
Angela could see the skin shedding away under her gentle ministrations, leaving the skin underneath, silky soft. She had Brenda roll aver, while she did her back and the rest of her legs. She noticed the skin was thicker in certain areas around the waist and transparently thin in other places like the face.
Luckily the bubbles hid the evidence of the shedding skin from Brenda. Angela took care to drain the bath, while Brenda was busy drying herself, making sure she didn’t see what was going down the drain.
"Wow! You were right. That bath made my skin so silky, and it doesn’t itch anymore," Brenda commented enthusiastically, running her hands over her body.
Angela could almost swear that there were more changes than that. Knowing what the results the venom from her bite would eventually lead to, she could see the hint of the changes starting to happen. Brenda’s waist was just a bit trimmer than before, and when she removed the breast forms for cleaning, she could see a slight swelling developing. She knew she had to devise a way of hiding the shedding skin effect from Brenda as it went through its weekly schedule of renewal. There was no turning back now, and Angela hoped Brenda would forgive her when its effects became obvious.
Brenda saw some changes in her face, but attributed them to the way the makeup hid her old face. Angela would insist on doing it first, and then letting her try to recreate the look, telling her, she needed to learn to do it herself. Seeing herself daily in a mirror as Brenda became less of a surprise as the week wore on. Angela kept her occupied, trying to learn how to move and act as the person she was portraying. Angela was always writing copious notes, while Brenda learnt to act as much like a woman as she could.
Brenda’s second skin shedding, the following week, was cleverly covered up by an appointment to get a whole body mudpack beauty therapy treatment. Angela, who knew her own transformation wasn’t too far away, started organizing what she needed to be done.
Brenda was definitely looking more female, both in body and actions after her ‘treatment.’ Luckily she either didn’t consciously notice the widening hips or narrowing waist, or she chose to ignore it, as she said nothing to Angela about it. ‘Of course it might be due to the nature of the mutant venom as it protected its interests,’ Angela thought, trying to get her head around the fact that she was treating the venom as having its own agenda.
Angela took Brenda around to her parent’s place, something Brandon never got to, after his first brief visit when they started going out together. She showed Brenda her old room and got her acquainted with the house and where everything was. Brenda would have to know her house backward for later, when her final change took place.
Cynthia was happy to have her daughter bring Brenda around, often telling her childhood stories of when Angela was growing up. Angela took her mother aside out of Brenda’s hearing to warn her, that these visits might tail off when Angela told her she would be leaving the unit to go husband hunting, leaving Brenda to look after the place. She extracted a promise that she wouldn’t tell Brenda, as the topic of boyfriends in general was still a sore point.
Cynthia was sad that the visits would end, but pleased that her daughter was finally taking charge of her life. She promised not to go interfering in Brenda’s life while Angela was away.
The weeks passed. Another visit to the mud baths and still Brenda didn’t complain about the feminizing effects that followed.
Angela had let Brenda veg out a lot in front of the TV, where supplied with ample amber nectar, she was happy to stay watching her favourite sports. After a month, while cleaning the breast forms, Angela commented that Brenda was getting beer boobs, and that she hardly needed the forms anymore.
Brenda took the news calmly, too calmly, as she inspected her almost b cup titties. Angela was sure that the venom had another effect, other than that of gender transformation. In rewriting Brandon’s DNA to a copy of her own, it was also blinding her to the effectiveness of said change. Even so, Angela knew she couldn’t tell Brenda of her final fate, and that was the hardest thing of all.
Knowing that Brenda was seemingly oblivious of the changes to her body, eased Angela’s worries about her ultimate fate. Brenda got more and more feminine at each shedding of her skin and Angela didn’t need to hide it under a layer of mud. Instead, as the time for it to come off, and it started getting itchy, Angela had Brenda rub some emollient on it. In the next hour, it would start to peel off, leaving the skin underneath clear and clean.
Angela had told her this was supposed to happen, as a direct result of the crime, so Brenda calmly picked it free, shedding huge swathes of dead skin, thinking it was part of the normal treatment.
The relief from the itchiness was sufficient to stop her questioning the reason why she was itchy in the first place, although, Angela had tried to reason it away as an allergy or something.
When people started mentioning how similar they looked, Angela cut down the excursions to anyone they knew. She started sending Brenda out on her own to avoid confusion, when shopping for essentials.
Angela could sense her time was near, and she put her final preparations in high gear. She had a small cage brought into the garage, keeping it out of sight from Brenda. Modifications were made and she had all the paperwork needed attached to the lid. Having lots of money, made it easy to ensure her package would be delivered to the right person when the time came. She shed a tear, knowing that if what the medicine man/witchdoctor said was true, she would never feel her breasts exactly the same way again.
Twinges in her body told Angela that tonight would be her last in this form. She rang a number, organizing the pickup of the crate early the next morning, before making sure the garage door was left unlocked.
She checked over her diary, seeing if anything needed adding, making sure as much information as she could remember was written there for Brenda.
That night, after Brenda was asleep in post orgasmic bliss, Angela stole out of bed as the twinges of her now rapidly transforming body increased dramatically. Left behind, was a complete skin, which included the hair of her head and her fingernails. She didn’t want to see herself in the mirror in this state, wanting to preserve the memory of how she once looked. Judging by what she could see of herself, there wasn’t much left of the person who was once known as Angela. Her breasts were now just memories. In their place was a sheen of fine scales. Her arms were fused to her thinner torso down to her elbows, making opening doors very hard. Her legs were also fused together down to mid calf, making her mimic a penguin like shuffle. . If she had looked in a mirror, she would have seen just holes where her nose and ears used to be. Her mouth felt like it was much wider and her eyes had moved further apart as well, which made her already difficult task of moving quietly even harder to do. She paused, looking back towards Brenda for one last time, before leaving the bedroom, she couldn’t afford to kiss Brenda goodbye in case she woke, instead her tongue flicked out, tasting her lovers scent in way no human had done before. A trembling in her torso, prompted her to take one last look, as her legs continued to change providing less support for her body. She sort of slivered outside and then wriggled under the partially open roller door leading into the garage, as her legs became one.
Angela could feel her intelligence diminishing as she took on a more snake like form. She managed to get into the cage, despite not having arms and legs, as they’d now had been absorbed into her torso. With her tail fully formed, she used it to knock away the prop holding the cage open. The lid dropped and the self-latching mechanism that Angela had added, snapped shut.
Angela’s last coherent thought, as her body shut down for the final inevitable change, was, when would she ever see Brenda again.
Brenda woke to the noise of the garage door being slammed shut. Seeing Angela wasn’t in bed, she got up and looked out the window. A U.P.S truck parked in the drive, started up and moved out onto the road, where it rapidly disappeared.
Pulling on a robe, with a now automatic action, Brenda headed outside to see if a delivery had been made. Finding noting, either outside or in, Brenda came back in, to check with Angela, wherever she was. Looking in the kitchen, after calling with no response, Brenda saw a note propped up on the table, with the words "read this," on it. Brenda picked it up, seeing it was attached to the diary Angela was always writing in.
"Brenda, it’s the time for the truth to be told." She read, with a sinking feeling.
"In the diary is your life as you’ll have to live it from now on, so don’t get rid of it as you’ll need it to survive."
Brenda sat down and read the pages Angela had left behind. In them, she read of Angela’s close shave with the snake bite and the subsequent actions of the medicine man and his predictions. As she read, Brenda’s mind seemed to take on a clarity that had been missing for months. Needing a potty break, she saw with shock her altered appearance with new eyes. She could see that her facial features had taken on a more feminine appearance, becoming more like that of Angela’s. She still felt disassociated from her emotions so there was no feeling of panic, as she saw how far along the path to becoming Angela, she was.
She went back to reading the notes, determined to understand why this was happening to her. Angela told of her dilemma whether to pass the curse if you could call it that, onto Brandon or not. Knowing the consequences if she didn’t pass the venom on, made her choice, no choice at all, unless she wanted to doom herself to living a nightmare as a creature that crawled on the ground. Doing as she did, meant her life as a reptile of the suborder Serpentes, would be limited to a few months before her final transformation. She also explained that she had herself shipped back to the medicine man and that Brenda wasn’t to follow.
Brenda stopped reading, trying to take it all in. Her girlfriend had turned into a snake? For whatever reason and now she or rather Brandon was becoming a copy of Angela and was expected to take her place? It was just too unbelievable. Taking a break, she went back to the bedroom to get dressed, where the reality of the situation suddenly struck home. The mirror on the wardrobe door, showed the reflection of a woman, a woman that looked very similar to Angela, apart from the hair colour and her eyes.
Brenda removed her night gown and examined herself with eyes that were clear of the fuzziness of venom induced delusion. As she cupped her breasts, she realised they were not the fake ones Angela had glued on initially. Looking lower, she saw what was left of her manhood. No sign of the ball sacs remained, having retreated up inside her body. And even her penis was only a nub, barely usable as a directional nozzle.
The training to sit on the toilet and wipe that Angela had insisted would help keep her focused on who she was supposed to be, had become automatic. The need to handle it, had gone, had helped her venom clouded mind miss the significance of its slow, but constant shortening.
This was no external hormone induced change, which possibly could be reversed. This was her own body doing the changing, as it totally rewrote Brandon’s DNA. The scariest part wasn’t becoming a female so much, as becoming ‘someone’ else, someone whom she’d have become an expert on in a very short time, lest she be discovered as a fraud.
Brenda looked at her hair, seeing no sign of her original brownish hair coloured roots growing in, only a more natural looking blonde, replacing most of the dyed look, as she took on Angela’s traits. Out of habit, she brushed her hair, before returning to the bedroom to get dressed. As she tidied the bed, she pulled Angela’s nightgown, from where it lay inside the sheets. There seemed to be a brownish piece of material inside it, which at first, Brenda thought it was a pair of pantyhose. Not thinking, she pulled it out before dropping the gruesome rustling thing down on the floor, as she realised what it was.
It was a skin ... more than that; it was the complete skin of Angela’s body. It even had her hair and details like her fingernails, still covered in the pink polish she used.
It took a big effort to look of what was left of Angela’s human form, as it made her shudder. At first Brenda’s anger of her fate and Angela’s part in it, made her wish she could have seen the snake that Angela had become. But as the minutes passed Brenda realised that Angela hadn’t had a choice and the thought of being in Angela’s place, and having to go through the very same transformation, made her weep at the unfairness of it all.
Brenda opened the diary, knowing this was to be her bible if she were to succeed. Having nothing better to do, she started reading, noting that Angela had written "I love you, now and forever," on the first page. Angela had put down everything in order of importance, just who she was, with her likes and dislikes, favourite things that included colours and movies. Her whole life was laid open, just like the book it was written in, with all the highlights and past special occassions.
Her parents were next, with the same details as to who they were and what made them tick. Brenda could see past the details outlined and knew with a certainty the depth of Angela’s love for them. Having already been subject to her parent’s wrath when they thought Brandon had something to do with Angela’s first disappearance, Brenda knew they loved Angela equally so.
For a week, Brenda studied, although she was looking more like Angela by the time she finished. The shedding of skins, once a weekly occurrence, had sped up its process, to become once a day. Brenda/Angela would start feeling the itch that heralded the skin wanting to come off. She found that a hot bath in the evening would loosen it, and the use of a loofah would gently abrade it away.
She knew that Brenda was almost gone, when she’d answered the phone to find Cynthia on the other end. Of course not knowing that, she’d answered, saying.
"Hello, Brenda here,"
"Angela, I know I promised not to bother you, but isn’t pretending to be Brenda a bit much. If you don’t want to talk with me, I’m sorry, but there’s a party coming up, and I ... sort of promised you’d be there ... Angela? Angela!"
Brenda/Angela hurriedly picked up the phone she’d dropped in shock. The last thing she wanted was her mother, um Angela’s mother racing around to see why she’d dropped the phone.
"Sorry mother, I was in the bath and my hands are wet. The phone just slipped out as I was adjusting the towel," she lied, catching Cynthia, before she hung up.
Inside, Brenda/Angela was in shock, even if her voice sounded like Angela’s to fool Cynthia, she still looked a bit like Brenda, and seeing Cynthia was the last thing she wanted.
"Can I give it a miss, this time?" Brenda asked, before kicking herself for sounding pathetic. Angela would have been more forceful if she didn’t want to attend. Too late to take the words and whiney tone back now, as Cynthia pounced on the opening.
"I’ll see you tomorrow at the hairdressers; it’s booked for 3pm. I’ll bring the gown I want you wear, so don’t be late."
Feeling the onset of another shedding, Brenda/Angela agreed rather distractedly as she tried to scratch the itchiness.
For some reason, the prelude to this particular shedding felt different from the others, as a growing numbness around her genitals, seemed to be taking hold. She went into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, which usually brought some relief before she ran a bath. Looking down, she saw that the head of what had been her penis was now flush with her skin and it felt dead to her touch. She’d been sitting down to pee for sometime, so she didn’t have to bother trying to aim her miniscule member and possibly get her fingers wet, so the sight wasn’t much of a surprise to her.
Running a bath seemed to take longer than normal, as the itching increased in intensity. Gratefully, she sank into its embrace, feeling the soothing effects of the minerals she’d added. Unlike what normally happened, the skin refused to shed in bits and pieces. It sloughed of from her body in one big piece, reminding her of Angela’s skin she’d found in the bed.
It had split down the back and Brenda/Angela struggled out of it. The top half came clear, hanging like a gross slimy bag as it hung around her waist. She tried pulling the rest off like a strange pair of pantyhose, but it seemed to be stuck at her crotch. She stood up and literally yanked it down, using the gathered folds as a grip.
She felt a strange pulling sensation from deep inside her, as it finally came free. Looking down, she saw some blood drip into the bathwater, and she nearly fainted at the site of her altered sex. The skin had a thick rod like material attached where her penis had been. Slipping out of the legs of her "body suit," she stepped out of the bath and pulled the plug out. Bending over, she saw her new feminine sex for the first time ... well not the first time exactly, having seen it when it was attached to Angela. Definitely the first time at this angle though, as she probed it gently with a finger. Her finger came away red from the blood, after touching a very sensitive nub. The bleeding was minor and soon stopped, as she wiped it with a tissue. Looking up at the mirror, she saw that the last vestiges of Brenda were gone. Angela was born, like a phoenix from the ashes.
The new Angela checked herself out, half in love with herself, and half wondering what tomorrow would bring. She was obviously made to take the original's place, but whether she could step into her lover’s shoes and carry it off, was another matter.
Her dreams kept her from getting a good night's rest, as visions of herself in white marrying some society son that Cynthia had approved of, had her waking in cold sweats.
Getting up early to get a shower, she saw the repulsive mess of what remained of her skin in the bath. Unlike the dry skin that the original Angela had left, this was a waterlogged slimy mess. Thinking of how to dispose of the skin, she grabbed a plastic bag and put her hand in it, making a crude glove. She scooped the soggy skin up and dumped it into the toilet, where it was soon flushed away. The other skin followed soon after, leaving no evidence of the weird transformations in case the police were ever involved in the future.
Angela dressed in ‘her’ clothes and started the task of removing Brenda’s stuff from the flat. If she were to pretend that Brenda had moved out, then getting rid of the clothes Cynthia had bought was paramount. Angela only kept some of the underwear, thinking ‘her’ mother would hardly be prying in her intimates. The rest went into bags for the goodwill, who would make excellent use of it all.
Angela checked her appearance one more time, before leaving for her dreaded appointment with her new mother. She dropped off the clothing on the way to the salon where she was to meet.
The only comment Cynthia made to her was that her hair was looking dreadful. No yelling and screaming that an imposter stood before her, not even when Angela told her that it was her life, her hair, did she twig (come to the conclusion).
"Angela Conrad, even though I’ve allowed you to go off and live how you please and date all manner of men, your appearance reflects on our good name and reputation. I shudder to think if it got to the press that our daughter was seen slobbing around," Cynthia sternly admonished her.
"Even that girl Brenda, had her hair done nicely, how is she doing?" her mother added.
"She’s moved out to a new address ... 36 Breast Street in the twilight zone," Angela answered, the last, muttered under her breath so Cynthia wouldn’t hear.
Entering a beauty salon is like no other place on earth. The smell tells you instantly that it’s a domain only women dare enter. There was still enough Brandon left in Angela’s head to make her quail momentarily, as she followed her mother inside. The mingled smells of perfume, makeup, hair setting products and shampoos, almost felt like a wall, they had to breach before entering.
Angela was overwhelmed by it all and meekly did as her mother bid her, as preparations began. Not having an opinion about, lest she show her ignorance about the current styles, Angela let Cynthia take charge over what she wanted for her daughter. When asked directly by the stylist, Angela shrugged, saying it was her mother’s party; let her chose the look, thereby absolving herself if it turned out badly.
And so the torture began, yes torture, for waxing was just another part of the treatment, Cynthia had organized. Vowing to Nair or shave herself to death next time, to save having her unattended leg hairs yanked out by their roots, Angela suffered in near silence, with just a few ouches and winces as they got near to the sensitive areas.
Once that was over and soothing cream applied, the rest went pretty tamely, except for the eyebrow tweezing. It took 4 hours before she saw herself in the mirror. Her hair was in an updo with just a few tendrils framing her face in bouncy spirals. She looked gorgeous and her face was flawless. For all the pain she had gone through, her legs looked spectacular and very sensitive to the material of her dress as it brushed against them.
Unfortunately her mother wasn’t finished yet. Taking her in tow, Cynthia dragged her screaming, (well would you believe, mildly protesting?) into a shop for a gown.
While Angela endured the arduous task of what women called shopping, a particular cage in Africa reached its intended destination, though not without some problems on the way. The men tasked by the former Angela, had to smuggle the cage and its deadly cargo past quarantine, not that it was that hard with its woefully inadequate bio-security measures. Just by placing the cage into a larger cardboard box labeled "car part," got the cage and its passenger on its way.
Once it was clear of the airport authorities, the cage was loaded on the back of a 4x4 Ute, minus the cardboard disguise. Being visible to all and sundry, made the golden hued serpent a much talked about topic, and subject to many offers to buy it, when stopping to put food and water into the cage.
Luckily the men were steadfast that the rare looking snake reach its destination, managing to thwart an attempt to steal the snake, when one offer to buy was refused.
The transformed Angela was only peripherally aware of her situation from the snake’s point of view. She existed in a sort of dream like state, where she seemed to be a servant to a snakelike Goddess who had tasked her to perform a service. When she was delivered to the old medicine man, she knew that her service would begin, and hopefully result in achieving her final change.
The old man removed her from the cage and draped her 6 foot length around his neck. This alarmed the ones that had delivered it, and began backing away, fearing the unknown type of snake would bite and kill the old man and then go after them.
The man's confidence in his belief, that the snake though venomous, wouldn’t bite him, prompted the delivery men to ask what kind of snake was it and why was it of paramount importance that it come out to this isolated region.
"The snake is most magical, it has a powerful spirit that will help many," the man told them. "Only I can release this spirit and the snake knows it," he added seeing their skeptical looks. "It doesn’t have a name, as it’s the only one of its kind in the world. I call it the angel snake," the old man finished.
"One bite and it sends you to the angels ... that would be right," scoffed one of the men, as they turned to head back to the city, so far away.
"No my angel, you will save many lives, once I milk your venom," the old man muttered to himself.
Angela was only partly aware of the old man’s words. She knew enough not to bite him, but wasn’t sure of her actual task as a snake, when most of her mind was engaged in a dreamlike state elsewhere.
Meanwhile, the copy of Angela was enduring being fitted into gowns and then being accessorized. Eventually, Cynthia was satisfied with her choices for her daughter, and they left the various shop assistants in peace, as they returned not the Angela’s flat, but to her old room at home.
Angela knew from a visit before, where her bedroom was located and headed straight there with her new purchases. Her protest about why they were not heading to the flat was that it was out of the way and seeing that they were going together, they’d take the Rolls.
Although Angela was sure she could manage to get ready on her own, Cynthia insisted on hovering, adjusting this and that, as she helped zip her into the gown.
Looking at herself in the mirror left Angela breathless. The gown was classic black, which set off her blonde tresses to a T. The material clung to her like a second skin, with the metallic threads in it, catching the light as she moved around. The material reluctantly relinquished its embrace on her body near her knees, where it flared out, allowing her to walk.
Cynthia gave her a diamond pendent necklace worth thousands, which she helped fasten for her daughter. Angela thought her heels were too high, but at least as Brenda, knew how to handle the 4 inchers. Cynthia left to don her own clothes, leaving Angela to browse around her new belongings.
The huge walk in wardrobe was full of gowns, which the old Brandon would have loved to see the original Angela wearing. Now it seemed she as Angela would have to wear them, if she wanted to admire them on her body. She fingered them, sorting them in her mind, those that she wouldn’t mind wearing just for the joy of feeling those fabrics against her skin.
Men, unless they were flamboyantly gay, were so limited in what they could wear safely. Silk shirts were about as far as the range went for the finer fabrics that women took for granted. When Angela had dragged Brandon along shopping when she was looking to buy something for herself, he had loved letting his arm brush along the rows of dresses or whatever garments the aisles were filled with, so he could feel the sensuous fabrics that were sadly off limits for him to wear. Now it looked like she’d get to experience them all, judging by the array hanging in her wardrobe.
Angela’s thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knocking on her door as her father announced that everyone was ready to go. Steven complimented her on her outfit, saying he hadn’t seen her so beautiful since prom night.
Angela blushed, allowing her father to escort her into the lounge where her mother was impatiently waiting.
"Oh do hurry, being somewhat late is fashionable, but there is a limit to what is deemed acceptable." Her mother urged, taking Steven’s other arm.
The Conrads had both a ‘maid’ and a ‘butler,’ who’s duties, included most everything else as well. Tonight, Darren the butler was Darren the chauffeur, as he helped the ladies into the luxurious comfort of the Rolls Royce silver ghost.
Angela tried not to gawk around inside, knowing the original had ridden in it many times. Steven opened a chilled bottle of bubbly from the built in bar. Nervous, Angela quaffed her glass much too quickly, getting a mild rebuke from her mother. A refill lasted longer, as Angela fought to relax and appear normal.
Arriving at the venue, they were directed to the main building where the party was starting. Several gentlemen were gathered as they were driven to the main entrance. Obviously they knew Angela was coming and had waited for her to arrive. Angela suspected Cynthia had informed them about her arrival, as they whisked her from the car into the massive ballroom, letting her parents follow in on their own.
Angela looked back at her mother with a questioning look, before she lost sight of her among the gathered guests. Cynthia just made a shooing signal, obviously content to allow her daughter to be escorted by the two potential suitors.
She stopped, refusing to be coaxed any further, till they introduced themselves, seeing they already knew who she was. The two men were scandalized that she apparently didn’t know them, given her station in life with the rest of the affluent.
The sandy haired one said his name was Henry James Worthington, while the dark haired young man said he was John Patrick Farnshaw, neither names ringing any bells for Angela.
They were obviously moneyed, as their fancy clothes spoke almost as loudly as their attitudes. Henry got her a glass of champagne from a passing drinks tray, as both tried to keep her to themselves for the evening. If she’d been a real female, Angela might have enjoyed flirting with them, as they tried vainly to woe her attentions. As it was, she struggled to maintain her poise as the high society daughter she appeared to be. Although somewhat flattered not only by Henry and John’s attentions, but by all the eligible young men, that eventually lingered in her presence, she felt uncomfortable being the target of all this attention.
Trying to analyze why this was, distracted her from noting the amount of alcohol she was being plied with. The guys were all attractive in their own way, but Angela wasn’t interested in them sexually, still considering herself mentally as a male, despite being physically female.
Having a much smaller bladder now, meant frequent trips to the bathroom as the more she drank. Luckily the place had many cubicles, so the waiting queue was mercifully short. Angela heard some talk about herself, while she was ensconced in the toilet, trying to cope with her tight dress and trying to relieve herself at the same time.
"You see that Conrad slut, trying to get her hands on our guys?" muttered one voice.
"Yes, you think she’ll last the night with all that booze she’s drinking?" laughed another voice. "I hope she’ll fall off those heels and split that rag she calls a gown," the same voice added cattily.
"She probably doesn’t wear panties, so it would be a great show," the first voice laughed in agreement.
Angela suddenly realised that she should have been a lot drunker than she felt at the moment. Thinking back, she worked out that she’d had at least 7 glasses of champagne, enough to cause Brandon to be weaving around the room. She only felt a mild buzz and felt she could drink a lot more before becoming inebriated. She reasoned that the venom in her body must have been keeping the alcohol from affecting her in some way. After all, anything that could change a guy into a gal was obviously powerful enough to have all manner of weird effects that defied explanation. Despite the horrible remarks she had overheard, knowing her tolerance to alcohol lifted her spirits (no pun intended ... yeah right lol).
She finished her business and made sure she was decent, before exiting the cubical. She washed her hands and repaired her lipstick, while checking out the competition. She saw no strange looks coming her way, so assumed that her detractors had already left. Feeling more secure that her body now had a higher tolerance for alcohol, she went back out to join the throng of willing admirers.
Although plied with enough drink to sink the Titanic ... again, she barely felt the effects. Learning to dance wasn’t too hard, as the boys that asked her were drunker than she, and didn’t notice any initial clumsiness on her part as she dealt with heels while moving backwards. She wasn’t particularly interested in dancing, but it beat standing listening to a group of ‘men?’ boasting about their accomplishments trying to impress her.
Even though she was a woman now, none of the men did anything for her sexually. She wondered if that would change as time went on, seeing she still considered herself having a male mind. Women still attracted her as much as they ever did, although had she still been Brandon, he still wouldn’t have acted on it, as Angela was the only one for him/her. She was still his, or rather her soul mate, she completed her something that made her sad now she was gone. She had implied that she would return someday, but as what? A snake? Or something or someone else? The thought made her shudder.
By the time her parents rescued her from the clutches of her admirers, Angela was feeling fed up. No wonder the original Angela hated going to these things. If being bored to tears listening to inane conversations wasn’t enough, they seemed to think they had the right to fondle her body at every opportunity, just because they bought her drinks.
She was quiet on the way home, refusing to join in on her mother's comments on the merits of certain individuals Angela had met. Angela was in a world of her own, lamenting the loss of the one person that should have been at her side.
Meanwhile, the focus of her thoughts was experiencing her own trial. The real Angela could sense herself being in two places at once. She was aware dimly of her snake self and what was happening to it, as well as being in a palace to a Goddess, were she had to perform menial tasks for same. Angela decided that the dreamlike quality of this existence was to protect her mind from the reality of becoming a snake. Obviously the snake’s brain could not hold her intellect without her going insane, so most of her mind was elsewhere, but just where and how much of what she experienced was real, she didn’t know. She thought there must be some symbolism to her performing the menial tasks, as cleaning and washing was one of the things she never had to do as a privileged child, her nannies did that, or the maid, when she was older.
The old man was using her snake form in some fancy healing rite, which involved having her venom tapped, to be used in a weird concoction that was then used on the sick patients he visited. Once imbibed or injected using his crude (to use) stick stabbing methods, the patients went into a light coma, as the venom worked its cure. From what she could see, which wasn’t much as the man put her in an open weave basket after the cure, the patients DNA was being rewritten, de-aging them and affecting a cure. There must have been more to the procedure than she could take in, as the man spoke to each while they lay in their coma like state, because one young boy changed sex, becoming a girl. Whether they were being told to become their ideal form, was hard to tell, especially as she couldn’t understand the language, but judging by the child’s elated cries the next morning, it was a change much wanted, rather than forced upon him.
This process went on for weeks, before she noted a change in the routine. No longer was her venom tapped for its curative powers, instead the old man took her on a long journey up to a mountain range, where nestled among its craggy peaks, they came upon a small oasis. Hemmed in by the surrounding mountains a small valley lay verdant with lush growth. A small spring supplied everything with water, before disappearing into a crevice on the southern side. The old man deposited her snake form there, as he prepared to complete the ritual to start the snake’s final transformation.
Angela in her dream state knew something momentous was about to begin, as the Goddess came to her smiling, as she presented her with a blue gem. Suddenly her body was wracked with pain, which made her faint, as her form twisted and warped.
The old man smiled, seeing the snake suddenly start writhing. Shapes bulged beneath its skin moving up its once sleek body. It grew larger, and its colour changed as the creature contorted, trying to achieve its final form. The old man waited till the throes ceased, before leaving it on its own, knowing that the Goddess would protect it, and see it to its final destination safely.
Angela didn’t know what to do with herself. She had spent a week at her ‘parents’ home, sorting out some of the stuff in her closet. Her mother’s efforts to find a suitable boyfriend had finally flared up into a row, which made staying there impossible. She had returned to the flat, taking with her, some of the nicer stuff in her closet, as well as the outfit that she wore to the "social event." After another week of playing ‘Barbie’ in front of the mirror as she tried on her new clothes, she became bored. Playing ‘Barbie’ with oneself was far better than playing with actual dolls, in Angela’s opinion at least, especially when the final result was breath taking.
The problem was seeing Angela’s form reflected in the mirror instead of Brandon’s or even Brenda’s as it began to weird her out. Seeing your lover's form reflected in a mirror wearing sexy clothes was one thing, knowing it was you in that body was another. She kept expecting her reflection to complain that she was leering at her in a manner that said she just wanted to get into her panties, rhetorically speaking of course. Angela snorted to herself at that thought.
Angela decided to go out ... anywhere, somewhere where she could forget what had happened to her life. So for a month, that’s what she did. Go out and party. Each night she went somewhere different, but ended up returning home alone. It wasn’t that she didn’t have offers from both men and women to stay over at someone’s place for the night; she did, but didn’t feel like taking anyone’s offer up yet. It was almost like her sexuality was switched off. She could admire the traits in both men and women that would normally be sexually attractive to either what remained of Brandon’s mindset or her new female anatomy in only a clinical manner, as her body just didn’t respond sexually to either.
It was on one of these fruitless nights, where she reluctantly said goodbye to a would-be suitor, that eyes followed her movements, from the shadows. The owner of the eyes shadowed Angela, as she made her way home. Angela was deep in thought as she walked the few blocks home in the dark.
‘I could have gone with him,’ she thought to herself. ‘He was pretty cute for a guy,’ she told herself somewhat despondently. Nearing home, she shook her thoughts away her dating misadventures and back to reality. She became aware of an itch at the back of her head, as if someone was looking at her. She instinctively turned, looking about her, but saw nothing, not even the glint of blue as the jewel belonging to the pair of eyes caught the streetlight, as it withdrew into the shadows again.
Angela paused, sure she’d sensed someone she knew, or that something familiar had been out there watching her. Shrugging, she turned again and entered the building that housed her flat.
The owner of the eyes withdrew, seeking the sanctuary that was now a temporary home, after the long ordeal in Africa.
That night, she tossed and turned as her dreams seemed to be filled with disembodied eyes that seemed to be all directed towards her. She woke, her heart beating rapidly, as she tried to make sense of meaning behind the eye filled dreamscape. Oddly, there seemed nothing threatening about the eyes, which stopped it short of becoming a nightmare. The only other thing about the dream that she could recall, was seeing a blue gem on a necklace of braided gold. She had no idea of the significance of that, anymore than that of the eyes that seemed to be watching her every move.
She tried to get back to sleep, knowing dawn wasn’t too far away, and she didn’t want to wake up feeling tired. She must have succeeded, as she woke to the sound of birds chirping outside her window and the sun streaming in through a chink in the curtains. She lay in bed for a while, going over the dreams she’d had. She still had no idea what they meant; only knowing they were of some significance in her future.
She finally got up and went into the bathroom. After doing what needed to be done and then taking a refreshing shower to fully wake up, she went back to get dressed. Wrapped in only a couple of towels, she opened the curtains to let the sunshine sweep in. Looking out, she saw that it looked to be a sunny start to the day, so she decided to dress accordingly.
Deciding to go to the mall after breakfast, she took no notice of the figure that followed her in the taxi behind her car. The figure followed her at a distance, keeping what few other shoppers there were between them. When Angela browsed in the lingerie department of a well known store, the figure remained outside, but kept a close eye on the doorway.
Later, Angela had bought a coffee in those disposable cups and had decided to drink it on a seat near the atrium that was the center piece of the mall, where small naturally growing trees in pots dotted the area. Finishing her coffee, she stood and put the empty cup into a nearby bin. As she looked up, she saw something that gave her a shock and momentarily froze her in place.
There, hanging from a low branch of a tree a few yards away, was a necklace with a blue gem on it. The necklace was the very same she had seen in her dreams, with the braided gold chain. She stepped forward, eyes focused only on the gem least it disappear like some mirage. As she reached out for it, a man’s hand came into her view and grabbed the necklace.
"That’s mine," Angela cried out, instinctively knowing it was hers. She turned to see a grinning face sneering at her, as the man pulled the necklace off the branch possessively.
"Not any more lady, I saw it first," the man replied.
Instead of replying, Angela made a snatch at the necklace, managing to grab the gem itself.
"I don’t think it suits you, so give it back," Angela demanded, raising her voice to attract the attention of a mall guard that was walking nearby.
The man struggled to free the gem from Angela’s grip, so he could flee with his prize, hurting her in the process. Angela’s cry of pain was tinged with anguish, as she saw the necklace being taken from her.
Just as the man turned to run, a large dark hand clamped onto his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"What you up to man? I think you got some splaining to do, snatching the lady’s jewelry," the heavyset Negro guard stated. He took the necklace from the man and handed it back to Angela, who thanked him profusely.
The guard disregarded the man’s explanation that he found it first.
"I guess it went with the handbag you just happened to find last week?" The guard asked, as he escorted the man to the manager’s office.
"But it was just ... " Angela heard last, as the pair disappeared round the corner.
Angela looked down at the necklace in her hands. She knew by the weight, that the gold was solid and not just plated. If the gold was real it meant that the gem must be too. ‘It must be worth a fortune, no wonder the man complained,’ she thought, as she ran her fingers over it.
"Do you want me to help put that on?" Asked a voice she recognized, coming from behind her.
Angela spun around nearly fainting as she saw who was standing there.
"Angela?" she cried, knowing it could only be she in the form before her.
"It’s me, but hardly Angela, Angela." The person in front of her refuted, looking pointedly at the body, which once housed the original Angela’s mind. "Call me Brenda, as that is who I’ll be from now on."
Ang ... Brenda, what happened to you? And why are you now me?" asked the stunned Angela, as she looked upon her originally changed body.
"Well it’s a long story, but first, let me help you with that," Brenda replied, taking the necklace from Angela and fastening it around Angela’s neck.
Angela, being so close to her soul mate, couldn’t resist, and hugged her old form as tears fell from her eyes. The two kissed, not caring who saw them do it. As they walked away, Brenda explained what had happened to her since that night she changed.
"Were you following me the other night?" Angela asked, as she drove home.
"Yes that was me, I needed to see if you had forgotten me and were dating anyone," Brenda admitted. "I was so glad you went home alone. I nearly came to you then, but decided to meet you today. I had an idea that the necklace would draw you, it’s supposed to be charmed, and after what happened to me, I’m not going to deny anything that might be magical."
"I dreamt of it last night," Angela confessed, giving Brenda a one armed hug.
"I wanted to do something nasty to that creep that tried to take the necklace, but I saw the guard was alert and headed your way, otherwise I would have blown my planned entrance and kicked him in the only jewels he truly owned. I followed you this morning and saw you buying something sexy in that lingerie shop. I wanted to come in, but you would have spotted me in an instant in there."
"I missed you so much, I can’t believe what you went through," Angela said as they arrived at the flat.
"You and me both," Brenda hugged her, as Angela opened the door to go in. "It seems weird to be you, but I guess it’s better than being Brandon for me. I don’t think I could take being male."
So you’re fully female?" Angela asked, dragging Brenda into the lounge.
"And then some," giggled Brenda, as she kissed Angela deeply, while trying to get her soul mate undressed.
"Shall we get reacquainted in the bedroom?" Angela husked, her libido now fully aroused.
"Thought you’d never ask," grinned Brenda.
As they undressed each other, Angela asked Brenda a question to which Brenda answered.
"I think I was always bi, but didn’t realise it consciously when you were Brandon, but it could be what attracted me to you, with your slight stature. When you became Brenda, I knew something had changed, seeing my love for you became deeper. It made it doubly hard to go ahead with my plan to make you me. I thought it might make you hate me, and I’d lose you forever."
The new Angela kissed the new Brenda and laid a trail of kisses down to Brenda’s now bared nipples.
"I couldn’t hate you. I understand the dilemma you were in. Change me, and make me become you, or don’t bite me and become a snake forever," Angela mumbled around the nipple she was sucking gently.
"I couldn’t just bite anyone, it had to be you. By diluting the venom in my body, I knew I wouldn’t remain a snake for all the rest of my life. I knew that I would be back, but the Goddess chose what form I’d come back as. I guess becoming you was a strange sense of justice for what I did to you."
Brenda moaned, cutting off further conversation, as Angela knelt, kissing her further down. They fell onto the bed, entwining themselves with a snakelike fluidity, as they pleasured themselves.
Angela felt almost complete, having her lover back again. She felt an empty ache in her groin that felt like it needed something extra to fully fulfill her needs.
Brenda’s body lay along Angela’s, as they kissed ardently. Suddenly Brenda’s breath caught, as something strange began to occur. Angela felt something too, something warm and insistent pushing at her groin. They both separated, looking startled at Brenda’s groin. Where before it looked like any normal females sex, now it had a snakelike appendage that was pushing out of Brenda’s vagina. It had some very fine scales on it, but the business end had an opening that showed it had only one purpose. Brenda grasped it amazement, feeling something that she’d not thought would ever be attached to her.
Angela looked at it too, she knew what she wanted. She took hold of Brenda’s new organ and placed it against her own entrance. She nodded at Brenda’s questioning look, before the two rejoined together in a manner none of them expected. This time their lovemaking took on a different tone as Brenda became the aggressor, pressing her advantage on the willing acceptor. This time, Angela rose to heights undreamt of, as the two completed each other in the dance of love.
What surprised them later was the discharge that was leaking from Brenda’s surprise package. Could she in fact impregnate Angela? Angela was glad that she had been taking the birth control pills that her once girlfriend had left her. When she became Angela and a woman, she had realised that it was up to her to prevent any unplanned pregnancies, just in case she found a boyfriend or worse, was raped. Her not being attracted to men didn’t stop her using them to buy her drinks, an advantage she took the most of, and so the birth control pills gave her confidence to play with the big boys, so to speak.
"You think that’s viable, even though you have no testicles?" asked Angela, as she dabbed at herself with a tissue, before heading for the shower.
"Who knows? One thing for sure, I’m not getting it tested. Imagine fronting up at the doctors, saying a want to have a sperm count done," laughed Brenda. "Mind you, if it is, and I don’t see why not, it means we can have children."
"You mean I can," Angela corrected, feeling somewhat uncertain about it all. "Think of what Mom will say when we get married," laughed Brenda joked.
"Is that before or after the funeral?" Angela retorted with a snort.
"Funeral?"
"Yeah mother will kill you ... me ... us, damnit."
"I can’t wait till you tell her that you’re a lesbian," winked Brenda, as she ducked the wadded up towel flying her way.
"Oh boy! What a nice thought," sighed Angela, looking daggers at Brenda’s smirking face.
"No, oh girl you mean," Brenda relented, giving Angela a hug of support.
The rest of the nigh was spent cuddled together tight in bed, as each dreamt of the not so distant rocky future. The next morning, the two lovers talked, trying to come up with the best solution regarding Angela’s parents. They decided to do it in stages without telling them everything about who or what their real daughter was. Another round of lovemaking sealed their plans.
"Why do you get to keep a dick?" Angela complained, feeling somewhat sore from all the sex. "Especially seeing you didn’t have one to start with," she added.
"Do you trust me?" Brenda asked, rolling on her side to look at Angela.
"Is that a trick question? Of course I do," replied Angela, poking Brenda on her sensitive nipples.
"Well I had a strange dream last night, and something told me to do this." As she finished, Brenda leaned closer and quickly bit Angela on the neck. Angela cried out with surprise, rather than pain.
"What did you do that for?" She gasped, while fingering the bite mark with her fingers. "I’m not going to turn into a snake now, am I?"
"No not that, I’m giving you the power to do some of your own poking back
"So who gets to decide which will be the poker and who the poked?" Asked Angela, emphasizing her point with an insistent finger.
"Play cards for it ... best hand of poker ... eeeiiihh!" Squealed Brenda, as Angela used a poker hand of her own to show Brenda what she thought of that idea. "Stop, stop, I give up," Brenda laughed, as Angela tickled her mercilessly.
"Turns?"
"Okay, turns," Brenda conceded.
"What!" A dismayed Cynthia cried, as Angela told her about being a lesbian. "You can’t be, what about that Brandon guy you were with? Even marrying him is better than having to say my daughter is a lesbian."
"Mother!" Snapped Angela, interrupting her mother before she really got going. "Since when did you start worrying about what others thought? I remember you saying we start trends not follow them," she argued, glad of the preparations she and Brenda had organized beforehand.
"Anyway, I hear it’s fashionably to have a gay daughter," she added for good measure.
"Fashionable, schmashable, I don’t so much worry about that, it’s your happiness that’s more important, I thought you wanted children when you finally married? Oh my, that means no grandchildren to look forward to," lamented a sad looking Cynthia.
"Well ... don’t count that as an absolute yet," Angela countered with a wry look. "Anyway the reason I’m here besides what I’ve just told you, is I have my soul mate waiting outside in the car."
Cynthia might have been shocked at the news of her daughter, but she knew her daughter’s happiness overruled her own desires. Hear her daughter refer to her lover as a soul mate, struck a chord in her heart. She too, had found her husband to be her soul mate and wouldn’t trade him for the world. Angela’s soul mate might be the same sex as her, but the bonds of love don’t draw the line at gender definitions. She knew acceptance was what Angela wanted from her now. So acceptance she would get.
"Bring her in then child, don’t leave her alone outside," Cynthia urged.
Angela went outside to fetch Brenda, while Cynthia went and made herself a gin and tonic even though it was still morning. She figured she’d need it to cope with seeing her daughter’s lover. She was imagining a tall butch looking girl dressed in leather or jeans, guessing that Angela was going to be the feminine element of the pair. From what little she knew of lesbians, a pair was made up of a dominant masculine element and a yielding feminine element, not that she could see Angela in either role. For one, although she never went overboard in the usual feminine fripperies and was more at home in skirts and tops, rather than dresses, neither was she submissive or weak. Cynthia couldn’t see her being subordinate to another be it a girl or a guy.
Cynthia ordered lunch for three, letting the maid/cook know before going and sitting down with her drink in the Chelsea room as the sunroom had been nicknamed. Chelsea was the cat that seemed never to move from her position in the sunroom. Except for meals and toilet, she just lazed on a special cushion placed for her. A sudden bizarre thought that Angela would have her very own pussy to play with, made her giggle. It was then that Angela returned with Brenda in tow.
"Brenda!" Exclaimed Cynthia, as she spotted the two holding hands. "I thought ... "
"That I’d moved out?" Brenda filled in for her. "Well I had, but now I’m back."
"Her experience with the boyfriend has finally turned her off men for good," Angela filled in for Brenda.
"Yes, I had always known I was bi, but tried to bury that part of my sexuality until this last episode," lied Brenda evenly. "After I left your daughter’s flat, I realised I had developed genuine feelings for Angela. We got back together again last week to find she also had feelings for me," Brenda explained.
Cynthia nodded, still somewhat shocked by having her preconceptions shattered. She asked them to sit down an offered them a drink, showing them her glass, now half drunk. Both declined, as Cynthia refreshed her drink, hoping they didn’t think she drank like this everyday.
"So are you going to make it official?" Cynthia asked, once she returned to her seat.
"Well that depends on you and dad, we are happy just to live together as a couple, but it would be nice to have a civil ceremony to make it official," Angela replied, putting the ball back in her mother’s hands.
"Are you both going to be wearing a dress for it? I can’t envision either of you in anything masculine," Cynthia blushed, hoping she hadn’t overstepped the bounds of good taste.
"I think that’s a given, Mom," they grinned as the two girls hugged Cynthia.
"What about dad? Will he accept me?" Angela asked worriedly, thinking the worst.
"You’re still his daughter, of course he’ll accept you," Cynthia stated confidently.
"I’ll accept what?" Steven asked, having just entered the house and come into where he’d overheard his wife’s voice.
"Hello dear, I think you’d better sit down. Angela has made an important life changing decision which will forever change her future."
"Oh! Sounds serious, will I need one of those?" Steven asked, looking questioningly at the drink in his wife’s hand.
Cynthia blushed, and stood, taking her drink into the kitchen. She pecked Steven on the cheek, whispering to him to take it easy, as she made sure an extra place was allowed for at lunch.
Steven sat silent, while Angela repeated her news. When she had finished, she waited anxiously for a reaction ... any reaction from the face of her adopted father.
Cynthia, who had come back in halfway through, and had stood behind Steven’s chair with her hands on his shoulder, moved around so she could see his face.
Steven had schooled his expression, letting no hint of the emotions he held in check show, as his daughter’s story unfolded. He was torn inside, mourning the loss of any hope for a grandchild to dote over, while feeling a weight lifted from his shoulders that his daughter had finally found love. True it was love of an unexpected suitor, but love nonetheless. He stood up, noting Angela and Brenda’s anxious looks. Still showing no sign on his face, he walked to his daughter, who stood up along with Brenda to await his decision.
Angling his body between the pair stood before him, he opened his arms and waited. As expected, both gave a cry and moved forward into his embrace.
"I hope it wasn’t our fault, I know we kept pushing you at men. It was just that we didn’t want you to end up like Aunt Betty," he whispered into Angela’s ear.
‘Aunt Betty? Who is Aunt Betty,’ wondered Angela, realizing she hadn’t been told about her.
"No dad, it was nothing anyone did. Nobody’s to blame, I just wasn’t turned on by guys," Angela added truthfully. "Brenda and I, well we just clicked, and the rest is her-story," she finished, modifying the saying.
"I remember you telling me about Aunt Betty. She was the one that died an old maid, wasn’t she?" Brenda asked, having overheard her father, and deciding to ask the question in a way to help Angela out.
"Yes she was ... maybe she was a lesbian too." Steven ventured. "She might have decided not to do anything about it, as it was frowned on in those days. Poor dear, imagine giving up the chance to find someone to love because of social conventions," he added sadly, suddenly realizing the stupidity of so called civilized society for looking down on those wanting alternative lifestyles.
"Just promise me one thing," he said, looking back and forth at the both of them. "Be happy."
This released a flood of tears as the two lovers nodded together before hugging him even tighter. Cynthia broke the circle, adding herself into the hug between Brenda, Angela and Steven.
A quiet call announcing lunch eventually separated them, the women dabbing their eyes, before heading to the main bedroom at Cynthia’s insistence that they avail themselves of her mirrors and makeup to fix their faces, in what she called her war room.
Angela had never seen this special room that Cynthia used to counter the ravages of time. A huge mirror ringed with lights was fronted by a wide makeup strewn vanity, which out did most beauty salons. Most of it was new, along with brushes and pencils still in their packaging.
"War room?" Brenda asked for Angela’s benefit.
"It’s where I battle time, everyday," Cynthia laughed. "You don’t think this is natural now, do you?" as she picked up a brush and started dusting her near flawless face.
"I hope I’m half as beautiful, when I reach 35 as you are," Brenda said, deliberately understating Cynthia’s real age of 42.
"Oh, I’m going to love you around here," Cynthia replied, rewarding Brenda for her flattery with a hug.
Brenda set to, opening some new brushes and subtly guiding Angela along with what to use. Coming down in a group, ten minutes later, they met Steven at the door into the dinning room.
"Well, I think that went fine," Brenda said to Angela, some hours later.
"Yeah, but I thought your dad would have kittens, when he found out he’d be paying for two wedding dresses. I was quite surprised he took it without flinching," Angela giggled, feeling a little giddy after all the wine she had drunk.
"Well after hearing I had no job and that you ... um I mean I had lost my parents some years ago, there wasn’t much he could do about it," Brenda replied, still getting confused with just who was who.
"Couldn’t have his daughter getting hitched to someone in rags now, could we?" Laughed Angela, before running away.
"Rags! These are not rags," Brenda fumed, before chasing after Angela. "I’ll show you rags," she threatened, pretending to rip Angela’s dress to ribbons.
"Uncle ... auntie ... cousin," gasped a giggling Angela, as she tried to get her breath back from the ticklefest that ensued when Brenda caught her. They were both lying on the floor recovering, before Brenda resumed their previous conversation.
"I thought his eyes would pop out after all those glasses of champagne you consumed. It’s not lollie water you know, it was some of his best from the cellar," laughed Brenda, recalling it.
"Well, I was nervous, and it seems to take a lot more to get this body drunk. Even after how many glasses? I’m still only mildly inebriated," Angela replied, proving her point, as she didn’t stumble over the word "inebriated."
Reminding her of her new identity, Brenda explained, "Yeah, but as Angela, you were never much of a drinker before."
"That reminds me, I know this is just a civil ceremony, but you’ll still need a legal identity for it." Angela said before getting up off the floor.
"All taken care of my dear, meet the new Miss Brenda Ratchet." Brenda introduced herself with a twirl.
"Ratchet huh? I wondered what that strange noise was when I grabbed your handle. I think you’re nuts, I just hope we don’t end up screwed," Somehow, Angela managed to say this with a straight face.
With a glint in her eye, Brenda threatened, "The only one getting screwed around here will be you by me."
"Not if I get my turn first," giggled Angela.
"You know what they say about turns?" Brenda giggled. "One good turn deserves another."
"Sure they weren’t talking about Terns. I’d hate to think of those seagulls being lonely ... oof!" Angela’s quip was rudely interrupted by a well-aimed pillow.
Further conversation in the flat was put to rest, as a raging pillow fight threatened to fill the place with feathers. Exhausted, both girls collapsed onto the bed, which eventually led to another contest, as to who was the loudest at point of orgasm. It was deemed a draw.
It was decided to hold the ceremony at the family estate, where guests could be vetted easily. Brandon had no family or close relatives, not that they could have come anyway, seeing Brandon was no more, so any guests would be from "Angela’s" side.
Cynthia called those she thought might want to come and weren’t so set in their ways that they couldn’t accept Angela’s gay marriage. She didn’t bother with any that hadn’t known Angela as a child, so her list was down to a dozen people all told.
The wedding was a success, if you could call two women in identical dresses committing themselves to each other a wedding. Cynthia had pulled strings to get a judge to perform the civil union.
The reason both were in identical gowns was, that when Cynthia was showing Brenda an elegant dress that was finally accepted, Angela knowing it was her turn next to go though the selection process, decided to cut the process short. Her, "I’ll have what she’s having," movie quote got mixed reactions. Brenda had laughed, knowing Angela was chickening out on the long drawn out process, but felt kinda pleased that they would soon be able to go home and rest. Cynthia was disappointed, that she didn’t get to help pick her daughter’s dress personally, but seeing the look on her face, knew it was useless to argue.
After the ceremony there were the usual things associated with normal weddings, pictures and gifts along with lots of food and the cake. They had a good laugh over one of the gifts Cynthia had given them in private, after telling them to open it on the honeymoon. It turned out to be a double vibrating dildo with batteries. Angela wasn’t going to pack it, as they made ready to get their flight to New Zealand, but Brenda insisted.
"I know we don’t need it, but it might be nice to do it as two girls," she suggested, her meaning clear.
"A no boner night?" Angela asked with a raised eyebrow.
A grin was her only answer.
Flying to New Zealand proved to be a breeze, although Angela was nervous when they were passing though the airports, hoping Brenda’s fake ID stood up to the scrutiny of those checking it. Brenda seemed unconcerned, knowing she had paid for the best.
Both had a quiet giggle when asked if they were carrying any fauna or flora at the bio check, knowing that there were no snakes in New Zealand. Angela wondered if a trouser snake constituted having a prohibited import, swapping grins with Brenda, as she had obvious had the same thought.
From Auckland’s International airport, they got a hire camper, which was basically a caravan with a cab. Their destination was south to the ski fields at Ruapehu. Coming from a summer climate to a winter one seemed odd, but not as odd as driving on the wrong side of the road (to them).
"Upside down and back to front," complained Brenda, who was driving at the moment, and having had to correct herself from wandering to the other side of the road.
Angela, who thought it was extremely funny, giggled, "Well you can’t blame them for flashing their lights and blowing their horns when you’re on their side of the road."
"Wait till it’s your turn to drive," retorted Brenda irritably, challenging a suddenly wary Angela, "I can’t wait to see how many mistakes you make," she finished as she negotiated another sharp corner.
Changing subjects, Angela commented on the countryside they were passing though. "No wonder they call it God’s own," she mused, looking out at the green hills and valleys, seeing the scene change constantly about every 10 kilometers.
"Give me a freeway, any day," snorted Brenda, fighting the camper up another tortuous hill. The windiness of the roads, meant passing was hazardous at the best of times. The cars queued up behind the erratically weaving camper, seemed ever patient, waiting till a straight stretch of road allowed a few to pass, without the constant blaring of horns reminiscent of the American way of driving. At one of the many rest stops that they passed, Brenda pulled in. The traffic behind made its grateful escape, while Brenda stretched her legs.
It seems like campers are like herding animals, because as soon as one stops another wants to join it. While both women got a drink, no less than three identical campers pulled up alongside. As the twang of more American tourist’s complaining voices disturbed the restfulness of the rest stop, Angela scrambled to get behind the wheel and get the camper back on the road again.
"Didn’t you want to stop and chat?" asked a grinning Brenda, as she adjusted her seatbelt.
"Bloody tourists," Angela complained, using local idiom. The two women cracked up laughing, which earned Angela a blast on the horn from a logging truck heading the other way. That only spurred more laughter.
Eventually, highway 1 brought them to the shores of Lake Taupo, New Zealand’s largest lake. Being 41km long by 27km wide, it was more of an inland sea They were in no hurry to press on to the Whakapapa ski resort in the Tongariro National Park, so they decided to overnight at a motel in Taupo. They found a vacancy at one with hot pools advertised, so they took it.
As it was still too early to have dinner, they decided to do the touristy thing and browse the local shops. After buying a few souvenirs, a walk along the lake front yielded more surprises ... free pumice. The shores were literally littered with the stuff, evidence of New Zealand’s fiery past. There were plenty of items dealing with the most recent eruptions, in the shops. It mentioned that Lake Taupo was once the site of an ancient eruption, which made thinking about that eruption, just too mind-boggling, due to its sheer size.
They picked up a few pieces, hoping they could take them back to the States, if they cleaned them. As the sun sank westwards, they could see the mountaintops covered with snow. Ruapehu the highest of the three to the south of Lake Taupo was letting a plume of steam catch the dying rays of the sun, while her sisters, Ngauruhoe and Tongariro sat in her shadow.
Starting to become hungry, they stopped at a local restaurant to taste something local. No one batted an eye two see two women seated together, even though it was obvious they were committed to each other.
Angela ordered fresh caught rainbow trout from the lake, while Brenda opted for venison. They both chose salads, with Angela getting a hot bread roll, instead of fries. Needless to say, each had a taste of the other’s meal, feeding each other off their own forks.
A long soak in the hot mineral baths left them feeling toasty and ready for bed. The soporific effect of the baths had them asleep before either could even think of sex.
An insistent native bird called a Tui made waking a pleasant change, as it went though its repertoire of songs. Almost on cue, a knock on the door announced their preordered continental breakfast. As they threw on robes to get breakfast before it got cold, they wondered why anyone from the continent would order a boring old breakfast that they could get at home.
Hunger demanded that they stop talking and use their mouths for eating breakfast. Apparently, continental breakfast consisted of two small breakfast sausages, (how novel) a fried egg, three strips of bacon, and a fried potato patty. With this came two slices of toast with butter and jam in small sachets, you peel the top off. A glass of orange juice each, also came with it. Remarkably, they finished it all, plus they made themselves a cup of coffee each, from what was supplied in the cupboards of the motel.
Checkout time was ten, so they went into the hot pool for an hour before getting dressed. Once they were on the road again, they marveled at the scenery, with its backdrop of snow capped mountains.
In less than two hours, they were at their destination. The Chateau catered to many of the tourists bent on trying the ski slopes at Whakapapa. They both giggled when corrected as to the proper Maori way of pronouncing it. The (wh) in Whakapapa has an f sound which makes it sound like a swear word.
The place was huge and in a nice setting to view the mountains. There were hundreds (it seemed) of brilliantly clad skiers trudging in and out of the place lugging their ski equipment. The clatter from skis and poles, made getting their keys a shouting match as they raised their voices to cope.
Although they could have slept in their camper, they had decided on being comfortable. Judging by the brisk late morning temperature of 5 degrees centigrade outside, they knew they had made the right decision. At the altitude they were at, minus zero temperatures at night were a certainty, and would be more easily coped with inside the chateau. They brought in the stuff, which they would need from the camper, then went for an early lunch.
Putting on some of their warmest clothing, they took the shuttle that ran up the mountain to the ski-lodge that rented out ski gear. They felt the temperature drop as the bus snaked its way up the mountain and got excited as the snow covered ground got deeper and deeper. Surprisingly, the road was sealed all the way to the drop off point, ending in a large car park. Seeing other campers parked there for the day, Angela said that next time, they’d drive up and be free to come and go as they pleased.
"Well, I hope you drive a lot better if you do," Brenda commented dryly. "The camper hasn’t got skis fitted and I don’t want to make a slalom run down the mountain in it if you run over the edge."
"Hardy har har, you can talk," Angela replied, sticking her tongue out.
Getting out of the bus, they felt the full effect of the cold air as it blew past them. They moved quickly into the lodge, where a huge fire had been lit in the main area. Buying a hot coffee to go, they wandered around, enjoying the view and checking out the merchandise.
"That looks cute," offered Angela, looking at a ski suit in pink and purple.
"Hmmm, he does, doesn’t he? Oops," Brenda blushed, eyeing a ski instructor gathering his latest brood for their lesson.
"Hey!" protested Angela; turning to see what Brenda was on about.
"Well, he does fill out those pants rather nicely," Brenda argued unrepentant.
"Just remember you can fill out your panties just as well on certain occasions," Angela pouted.
"Spoilsport," Brenda snorted, before giggling at Angela’s expression.
"I’ll rent us one tomorrow. Just remember, you have to put him back where you found him, no sneaking him back to our room. I’m the only bed warmer you need now," Angela insisted.
Deciding to leave skiing till the next day they took a few photos and made a small snowman on the edge of the car park, where the snow was piled up. Inevitably, melting snow from the snowballs they threw at each other dampened their enthusiasm as well as their clothes. Deciding to catch the next shuttle down, they bade farewell to Ruapehu’s icy grandeur.
Showering together before dinner led to demonstrations on the proper use of ski poles. The eruptions that followed went unnoticed by the webcams that keep a 24 hour watch on the active volcano. Luckily, all thermal activity had ceased, bar a blush or two; when they went down to dine.
A bottle of wine later, they headed back to bedrock. Thank God for soundproof rooms and a sturdy floor. Boy, did that bed rock.
Now they were ‘married’, neither wore a condom and Angela threw off any worries about, "what if." If it happened, it happened. Angela wondered idly if they could still perform being the poker, while still being pregnant.
The next day was a lot of fun, once they’d mastered the snow plough technique and how to walk up a slope in skis. Even mastering doing an about face wearing skis, didn’t prove too difficult. Raising one leg and sticking the heel of the ski into the snow by the other ankle and then letting it twist so that foot was facing the opposite direction before lifting the other ski and swinging it to bring it into line, was accomplished with ease.
On one part of the slope where the sun hadn’t reached, lay a patch of ice, unseen by Angela as she skied across it. As her feet slid apart, forcing her into the splits, she was glad she didn’t have her usual accoutrement between her legs as it might have proved crippling. Finding it difficult to get up, as her skis hadn’t broken away, she waited till a giggling Brenda decided to help her up. "Told you that you had those bindings on too tight."
"Well, they kept coming off every 5 minutes," an unrepentant Angela complained.
"You’ll just have to ski better," Brenda retorted, still grinning.
"I’ll show you who skis better," threatened Angela, getting herself sorted out.
"Okay, let’s see who gets to the bottom first," she was challenged.
Due to a bit of skullduggery and some highly questionably tactics, Angela caught up to Brenda, just as she reached the bottom. The undignified pileup as Angela used Brenda as a convenient brake, ended up with them both laughing as they tried to untangle themselves.
"That was unfair," protested Brenda as she located her ski poles.
"Well you started off before I was ready, I had to take a shortcut and use the steeper slope."
"I think you owe someone a cup of coffee. That poor bloke you nearly bowled coming from the refreshment kiosk wasn’t expecting anyone to be skiing flat out though that area."
Angela grinned, "Well, I did yell out of control, coming through."
"I saw you wind milling your arms around, was that an act?"
"No, I ran over the front of his skis, and thought I was going end up splattered," giggled a red faced Angela.
"Don’t look now; I think he’s coming down," whispered Brenda, trying to look innocent of the whole affair.
"Hello, ladies, quite a show you put on there," the blonde Nordic looking guy laughed.
Both blushed in response, making them look even cuter as they brushed snow from their hired clothing.
"Well, I’m not so sure that she’s a lady," Brenda replied. "More of a klutz, I’d say," she added with a grin, seeing Angela stick her tongue out at her.
"I’m sorry back there; it’s my first day skiing anywhere. My skis seem to do what they want not what I want." Angela apologized; fluttering her eyelashes in what she hoped was a winsome way.
"Ah, that explains it. Maybe we could have a coffee together? I seemed to have misplaced my first one," he added with a chuckle, looking pointedly at his coffee splattered boots.
How could they refuse? While helping them on the rope tow back to the kiosk, he introduced himself to them.
"So tell me Stephan, are you Swedish? You don’t have much of an accent," Angela asked.
"Well my parents were, but I’m a dinky die Kiwi, I’ve lived in New Zealand all my life," he answered.
Angela offered to pay for Stephan’s coffee, but he wouldn’t have a bar of it, saying he should have been watching out for mad errant skiers, all said with a grin of course. His offer to teach them to ski better, was politely declined, saying they where only here for a short time and were happy staying on the easy slopes.
Angela was also aware that Stephan was looking at her in a way that suggested he’d want to give her lessons in something else, namely the horizontal tandem snow plough. Any reluctance to give up the chase on Stephan’s part was quickly quashed by Brenda simply saying that they were together. Stephan took a second or two to get her meaning, before sighing at his loss. He left, giving each a quick peck on the cheek, reiterating that his offer just to learn to ski was still open.
Driving down the mountain in the camper was harder than driving up as the setting sun reflected off the snow banks lining the road. It had been mostly in shadow on the way up, as the sun was rising on the opposite side of Ruapehu. Making it down in one piece, they were soon back in their room at the Chateau. One steamy shared shower later, they headed down to the bar for a few drinks before dinner.
To forestall any unwelcome attention by any would be suitors; Angela and Brenda were openly affectionate with each other. Holding hands and kissing each other quietly in the corner table attracted no unusual looks from the staff, unfortunately, that said couldn’t be said of a couple of drunken imports. A few ugly comments were brushed aside as their advances were ignored. They seemed to lose interest after spotting fresh prey. The table they were at seated six like all the rest, so they did expect to be joined by others as the bar filled up. What they weren’t expecting was a group of girls who didn’t seem to mind sitting next to them.
Apparently the two drunks had been pestering them too, and despite telling them they had boyfriends, were still on their case. They had decided to go to a table where there’d be no room for guys to sit and so chose the table where Angela and Brenda were sitting.
The new girls introduced themselves and soon all of them were having a nice hen session. Unfortunately, their laughing and giggling brought the drunks unwanted attention again. Seeing some of their quarry seated next to the lesbians, made them see red, as their twisted rationale blamed them for the reluctance of the other girls to party.
"Hey girlie, what you need is a real man, not that cunnie bunny, someone with a big dick," one boasted, trying to get Angela’s attention.
"I don’t see any real men here, all I see is a pair of pricks," Angela riposted, cuttingly. The other girl’s laughed, which helped matters not.
"I’ll show you a prick ... " the one nearest Angela threatened, making a big mistake as he put his hand on her shoulder to pull her around to face him.
Several things then happened quickly, as Angela gripped the offending hand and with a strength born both of anger and her mutation, forced it to the table, where she squeezed it crushingly. Several staff, one of whom was a large Maori lad, had quickly moved to their table at the onset of trouble and plainly heard the last remark.
"Let's have you out you two," the older but smaller of the two newcomers demanded.
"Yeah throw her out, this bitch is crushing my hand," groaned the drunk.
"I’m throwing you out, not her. You can let go now miss," he winked at Angela, seeing the way her grip was making the drunks hand turn white. "We have things under control, don’t we Mike?" this last was directed to the Maori lad, who just grinned and cracked his knuckles.
Further indignant protests about being the injured party and some derogatory remarks about the staff being lesbo loving sons of bitches, saw them both ejected permanently from the Chateau, much to the delight of the majority of the crowd.
The older of the two who’d ousted the drunks, returned to the table with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. He presented Angela and Brenda the bottle, apologizing that they’d had to put up with the disturbance.
"Damn, for a free bottle of champagne, I’d become a lesbian too," pouted one of the girls.
"Linda, you’d become a lesbian, if I offered you a ride home," laughed her friend Anne. "She’s so easy," Anne added, her smile taking any sting out of her words.
The man smiled as he opened and then poured two glasses out at their acceptance of the gift. He then asked the other girls if they wanted a refill, "on the house," before leaving to attend to the orders.
Brenda commented that she was surprised how well they had been accepted.
"Well we take our anti discrimination laws seriously here in NZ. It’s not that big a deal anymore, being gay I mean," Susan, one of the other girls spoke up. "I mean we even have a post op transsexual as a member of parliament."
"Does that mean she sees both sides of the argument," joked Angela.
The girls laughed at that, with one saying that it really took balls to do that.
"Took them right off," added Susan with a grin.
This started a debate about a recent fundraiser where the contestants were judged on their dancing skills, Georgina the said post op member of parliament having been one of the contestants.
Apparently, she didn’t win, but neither was she eliminated in the first round, a tribute to either her looks or her dancing, or both. Finding the subject a little close to home, Angela and Brenda excused themselves from the group, deciding on having an early dinner and then an early night.
They had enjoyed dinner, having had another free bottle of bubbly thrust upon them by the same man when placing their order. Things were going well, with the both of them feeling a nice buzz when they returned to their rooms. Angela then decided to head out to the van to bring the map book, to check out other points of interest in the region. Pulling her coat tight around her, as the chill air attempted to suck away the heat in her alcohol warmed body, she made her way cautiously across the slippery ground to where the van was parked.
She didn’t see a pair of eyes follow her, eyes that narrowed in sudden hate in having to stay outside for the night after being thrown out of the Chateau. She had just unlocked the side door of the camper van, when things went black as a searing pain crashed into her head.
The man gloated, over the fallen woman, as he lowered the tire iron he held in his hand. He had a momentary worry that he’d killed her as he saw blood seeping through her hair. Looking around quickly, he saw no one, so he lifted the woman’s dead weight and tossed her inside the camper. Climbing inside after another quick check to make sure he wasn’t being observed, he locked the door and closed the curtains fitted at the windows.
He then proceeded to undress Angela, at least as much as he needed to. What he didn’t know was that this was no ordinary woman. She had neither a vagina nor a penis, but a complex combination of both. The penis lay within the channel of what could be a fully functional vagina capable of giving birth. If the penis was active, it filled the vagina opening and acted as a normal penis would when aroused. When it need to be a vagina, the penis retracted back inside and pulled flush with the surface of the vagina from where it entered from the side wall.
While awake, pheromones from the other kept each as one sex or the other, depending on who was the dominant at the time. While asleep or unconscious the prompting signals were absent, so the vagina and penis were both present. What this meant was that the penis filled the vagina from inside and lay flush with the outside, protected from abrasion, by the lips of the vagina.
The would be rapist, pulled out his cock and tried to penetrate Angela to no avail. It was as if there was no opening for him to enter, as indeed there wasn’t unless he counted the pee hole in the end of penis.
"What the fu..?" he cursed, struggling to see why he couldn’t enter in the poor light coming from the car park lights. Getting frustrated and not yet realizing what was happening, he began to slap Angela about the face, making her face jerk under the impacts.
"Wake up bitch, just because you had it sewed up, isn’t going to stop me getting off," shouted the man angrily, obviously coming to his own reason for the failure
Angela felt pain, and more pain, coming to realise as she struggled to wake, that she was being slapped about the face. She moaned ... a mistake, as the man shook her harder. He stuck his penis in her mouth, forcing it into her throat, almost choking her. Angela panicked, struggling to breathe as he pressed his weight on her.
‘Goddess help me,’ thought Angela desperately as she fought helplessly. Suddenly, as if her prayer was answered, a sense of well being flooded her body, making her feel lightheaded for a second. Angela felt her canines grow longer and thinner, forming fangs. Instinctively, she bit down on the intruder in her throat, feeling something flowing from her into the meat.
Meanwhile, Brenda waited, wondering what was taking so long, Angela had said she’d only be a minute, and 5 had gone past without her return. Suddenly, a sense of dread came over her, and she scrambled to put some shoes on and threw on her jacket, before running for the camper van. Reaching it, she heard curses and she tried to open the door. Finding it locked she fumbled in her jacket pocket for the spare key and got the door open.
Inside was a shambles. Angela still lay on the seat that doubled as a bed, her clothes strewn around in disarray. The man that had been foul mouthed inside the bar was lying on the floor moaning and holding his bloody organ gingerly.
"What happened?" Brenda cried, knowing what it looked like, but wanting to know all the same. She hurried to Angela and helped her sit up. She noted the rather long fangs that seemed to be retracting in Angela’s mouth.
He thried to rapeth me, so I bith him," lisped Angela, struggling to talk around the fangs.
"Oh oh," Brenda commented, wondering if her guess to the man's fate would prove correct.
Brenda got the man up despite his complaints and kicked his sorry ass out the door. She watched as he slowly made his way to his car and collapsed inside. Checking that Angela was okay for the moment, she followed the man and made sure he had a blanket around him before closing the door. From the look of him and the way he was shaking, she figured he wouldn’t last the night.
Angela’s wound on her head had disappeared after washing her blood stained hair. Brenda checked closely, but couldn’t even see a scar. The black eye and bruises that Angela should have been sporting were similarly absent.
Their plans to stay longer had to be changed, as Brenda’s guess about the man's fate proved to be true. When Angela and Brenda went down for breakfast, when a scuffle broke out around some staff members and several police officers. A young woman, clad in some very baggy men’s clothes and a blanket, broke free and started shouting at Angela.
"She’s the one, she did this to me, arrest her ... "
"Sorry, I have never seen you before," Angela replied truthfully, although she had a good idea who this person was, given that the blanket was recognizable. "Actually, it’s good the police are here," Angela spoke loudly. "I was nearly raped last night by that same man that accosted me earlier in the bar."
This caught the attention of the police and effectively shut the man turned girl up. If she persisted claiming to have been changed, she would have to tell the police the circumstances that led to that change. She slumped and sat down on a nearby chair, looking dejected, as the police questioned Angela. The staff quickly collaborated her story, even giving the police a description and what car he was driving.
After questioning her further, one of the officers brought the ill clad girl over to them, asking if they knew her.
"Did she call you here?" asked Angela curiously.
"No, we were on our usual patrol though the national park," answered one of the officers. "We usually stop here for a morning coffee, and check if anyone had any lost luggage claims. When we pulled in, this lady came screaming over, saying someone had made her into a woman and that she’d been a man last night. When we brought her inside, she saw you and started yelling."
"Maybe she’s on drugs. I wonder if that same man who tried to rape me was more successful with her," Angela proposed. "Maybe she meant she was now a woman as against being a virgin. That she’d been ‘with’ a man not been a man. He may have given her drugs to have his way with her," suggested Angela, looking at the girl in question. "He needs to be found and locked up," she added for good measure.
"Oh we’ll get him Miss, don’t you worry about that," insisted the other officer. Angela and Brenda saw the girl shrink, as she realised there was no way out of this, even if she was changed back to a man. When asked again if what Angela had suggested was correct, she went along with it, nodding her head in agreement. As the officers tried to get more detailed information from her, Angela pulled Brenda aside where they couldn’t be overheard.
"I feel kind of guilty calling on the Goddess like that. She does look rather stricken and lost. I’m not sure she deserves to remain like that with no identity."
"You called on the Goddess?"
"Yes, just before my fangs appeared."
Maybe if we call her again, we can help her, someway."
"Can’t hurt I guess," Angela agreed.
Holding hands, they called to the Goddess, hoping for some sign.
Suddenly, as before Angela felt a glow in her mind. Angela tried to convey her concerns and offered forgiveness to the would-be rapist. Angela thought she could feel approval coming from the heart of the glow and felt a message coming back.
"Three months," both Brenda and Angela chorused, as the glow faded.
"You felt that?" Angela questioned Brenda.
"Yes I did, he’s going to remain female for 3 months."
"Let’s get back, I heard something else," prompted Angela.
They hurried back to where the officers were just finishing with the harried girl, as she tried to come up with some story.
"Officer? I think she looks a bit traumatized. Perhaps getting cleaned up and some proper clothes on will give her time to get herself together so she can answer any further questions?" Suggested Brenda.
"Come on Robin let’s get you sorted out," Brenda said, taking charge of the shocked girl.
Angela followed, after giving the police their room number and that they’d meet them in 30 minutes.
Brenda took the startled girl’s hand, before she realised it and was leading her upstairs to their room before she could even protest. Not sure what more these two were going to do to her, but glad to get out of the clutches of the police, she decided to go along without protest, hoping to find out more about her current status. They had reached their room with her in tow, before she suddenly realised something. She stopped, baulking at the now open door.
"I’m a girl." She stated rather obviously, with surprise in her voice.
"Yes you are, so come inside," offered Brenda with a wave of her hand.
"No, you don’t understand," persisted the girl, remaining where she was. "I’m thinking like a girl ... as a female, not as a male. These are mine," she added, looking down at her chest and cupping her breasts with her hands. "What’s happening to me? Why can’t I feel abhorrence at being in this body? I mean, I was a man, this isn’t normal," she wailed.
Brenda took the girl’s hand and pulled her inside the room, closing the door and locking it.
"We are protected by the Goddess, so you were changed as part of your punishment. But the one you violated, asked for mercy, and so you were granted it. I’d like to bet you felt different after we came back?" Brenda asked with a raised eyebrow.
The girl thought back to when things seemed to change.
"Yes you are right. I was feeling angry and frightened at being in this body. I couldn’t stand it anymore, but when you came back I felt a weight lift off me."
"That’s a gift from the Goddess. You were lucky Angela felt bad about what happened, you could have been stuck like that for life," Brenda explained.
"You mean?"
"Yes, after 3 months you will be returned to your male form, unless you wish to remain female, but that will be your choice. Consider this a learning experience on how the other side lives, hopefully you’ll learn something," Angela spoke up.
After that, it was rather anticlimactic. After suggesting she get a shower and put on some appropriate clothes, which Brenda supplied, being closer to her size. The girl then disappeared into the bathroom, while Angela talked to Brenda. What came out of the bathroom 20 minutes later was much prettier surprising both Angela and Brenda. Obviously the Goddess had been more than generous in her gifts.
The girl was dressed nicely and she had tidied her hair and even applied makeup. She did a twirl and asked if she looked okay. When asked about the hair and makeup, she shrugged and said she thought she needed it and somehow knew how to do it. It was almost like she was a different person. Maybe knowing it wasn’t permanent had made the difference to her attitude. Even suggesting that the guys would be all over her, didn’t make her recoil.
Brenda held out a laminated driver’s license with a photo on it that looked remarkably like the girl.
"Here take this, you’ll need it Miss Robin Perkins," suggested Brenda, emphasizing the new girl’s name.
"Whaa? How did you get this? It even has my surname correct. I used to be Robert Perkins." The now christened Robin gasped.
"It was one of many ID’s I had made for myself," Brenda supplied. "It seems the Goddess is one step ahead of us. She made you look like the photo of the one ID with the right surname I had made. Was your name Rob, or Robert?" Brenda asked shrewdly.
"Robert."
"Wow! When I heard the Goddess suggest you look at your ID’s, I never thought she was this thorough," Angela gasped.
"But I don’t want to be Robin, even for three months," she protested.
"You have to be somebody, especially as the police are still downstairs. The Goddess has provided you with an identity, without which you can't, do anything," Angela reminded her.
"Give me the ID and I’ll plant it in the car with a purse for the police to find, while you keep them distracted," offered Brenda.
Robin sighed, seeing the logic in it, handing back the ID. A sudden thought struck her.
"I don’t have any money or a job now that I’m female. How will I live? I don’t want to become a prostitute," she wailed, seeing it as the only job she had qualifications for now.
"I suggest you pray for the Goddess to provide," suggested Angela, knowing that there was one more surprise for Robin.
Robin looked thoughtful, and then knelt in prayer. She knew that the Goddess must exist; otherwise she wouldn’t be like this. After a few minutes, she rose looking more relaxed. She then thanked them and said she’d better go and see the police officers before they think she did a runner. She then minced out with a sway and a wiggle that shouted out that she was anything but a man.
"Wow! Do you believe that?"
"That’s some turnaround, I wonder if she’ll want to go back to being a guy after 3 months?" Wondered Angela.
"I wouldn’t bet on it," laughed Brenda.
"Officer, if the car is still in the car park, maybe the girl’s belongings are in there too," suggested Angela, once they met back up with the police officers again.
They waited together, as one officer was shown the suspect's car. Luckily, with the door still unlocked, it didn’t take long before the officer was back with a purse.
Angela and Brenda exchanged a wink, at the successful bit of trickery. The officers gave Robin her purse after checking in it first. "Miss Robin Perkins," he read out, before handing the purse to her. "It looks like everything else was stolen, so I’d like you to report to the nearest office at your convenience, to report of what other belongings you had stolen."
One of the officers left to check on the cars computer database for any priors under the name on the drivers ID, seeing if there was any relation to Robert Perkins under which the car they found was registered. As nothing of a criminal nature came up, and no links could be found, he wrote out a report that he faxed to the chateau’s number.
"Here you are Miss; take this copy of the police report when you reapply for your credit cards. I suggest you do that soon so you can cancel your old cards," the second of the police officers suggested, handing Robin the faxed copy of the report he’d collected at reception.
Angela could see a wrath of questions building up in Robin’s eyes, as she scanned the report. Wisely, she held her tongue till the police went back on their way
"This license is legit? How come an American is carrying around a New Zealand driver’s license with a photo ID?" She asked, tugging on Brenda’s arm. "Or shouldn’t I be asking you this?" She added, looking worriedly around.
"Well we won’t have to kill you after we answer your question, but don’t let it become public knowledge," laughed Brenda theatrically. "It’s a long story, but yes the ID is real and it checked out or you’d have been in custody by now. The long and the short of it is that a while ago, I went and did a runner from my friends and family. I had new identities made for many of the countries I might decide to hide in. One of those included the one you have. Each has money put aside in accounts under each name."
"So I have money somewhere?"
"Well technically it’s my money, but you can use it, seeing you’re now Robin." Brenda answered, handing Robin a visa card with her name on it. "It’s easy to do all this when you have money," Brenda added, answering the next obvious question she saw in Robin’s face.
"Can I go get a room?" Robin asked, trying to take all this in.
"Sure, sis, be my guest ... well the chateau's at least," Brenda added with a laugh.
Robin hurried off, conscious of how her new looks were attracting attention. She returned a minute later looking despondent. She sat down at the table where Angela and Brenda were having breakfast.
"There’s no room, they are all booked up," she moaned, holding her head in her hands.
"Hmmm, tell me, were you booked in here as Robert?" Angela mentioned sagely, raising an eyebrow in a questioning way.
"Yes, why?" Answered Robin, not seeing the obvious.
"Allow me," Brenda interrupted, catching on. She waved over to the man who had thrown Robert out the night prior, where he was keeping an eye out over the dinning room.
"I’m just wondering if the man that nearly raped us, still has a room booked here. I believe his name is Robert Perkins. My friend needs a room, and I’m willing to pay for it, if it could be made available. Somehow I don’t think Robert will be back any time soon." Brenda asked him once he had come over.
"Let me check? I’m sure I can do something." He answered with a smile.
He was soon back with a key, which he handed to a startled Robin.
"Here you are Miss, the room is on us, for as long as the original booking, which means a weeks free accommodation. I’m just sorry you had such an unfortunate start to your holiday," he finished apologetically.
Robin blurted out thanks, looking a bit bewildered at the turn of events and the deferential manner in which she was being treated. Just because she had the walk and skills to act and look perfect in her new role as a woman, hadn’t prepared her to the way women were normally treated by the opposite sex.
As a man, she had tended to treat women as inferior, something nice to have on one’s arm and just a plaything when he wanted sex. Now she was seeing how the other half lived and how nice it was to be treated as a lady by a proper gentleman. As she realised what it must have felt like, being treated as she, in her previous condescending manner as Robert had treated women, she felt a sense of horror at the vileness Robert had shown.
The two girls watched Robin, as a flurry of emotions crossed her face, while she put herself in the shoes of Brenda and Angela, when Robert had accosted them the previous night. They could almost follow Robin’s thoughts and so they weren’t surprised when Robin hung her head and started to weep. Knowing something of the reason behind the silent tears, Angela and Brenda gave Robin a hug, while Robin unburdened herself of the enormity of her wrongful actions.
Angela ordered breakfast for Robin while she tried to compose herself after her outpouring of emotion.
"Are you both servants of the Goddess?" Robin finally asked, looking at them both.
"Well ... not actually servants, but we do her work," ad-libbed Brenda, wondering just how much the Goddess was going to play in their lives, now that they were able to communicate in a fashion.
"I don’t understand why you interceded for me with her. After all, I was a right bastard. I treated women like playthings to be at my beck and call. Why didn’t you leave me with the police this morning and let me dig myself deeper?"
"What I did to you was not of my choice," answered Angela. "When I cried out for help, the Goddess chose to help me in a way I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t leave you to the tender mercies of the authorities, as a woman without any help. Look at it as a gift, which will let you experience a whole different life to the one you had. In learning how to be a woman, you can then become a better man, if you decide to change back."
Angela and Brenda wondered if Robin had missed the "if," or was distracted by the arrival of her breakfast, either way, she made no further comment. Angela suggested that they take Robin shopping for some personal essentials, like underwear and toiletries. Ever welcome to share her clothes, Brenda told Robin that she would give her a few of her own clothes, till she got someplace decent to buy her own.
"Oh sank you, I’ll need all the help I can get," Robin accepted, trying to talk with her mouth full.
At the arched eyebrow from Brenda, Robin blushed chewing rapidly to finish her food.
"Sorry, I need to brush up on my manners," Robin apologised, once she swallowed her mouthful.
After breakfast, they decided to go shopping at nearby Turangi, where they knew it was big enough to have some clothing stores that had more than just ski wear. Robin came with them, as she now had no car as the police had had her car towed away. Angela had a hunch about the car, but didn’t say anything in case she was wrong. She would make enquiries later in Turangi.
There were two clothing stores, plus a Woolworths that sold basic items at Turangi. At first, Robin seemed reluctant to touch anything, probably having it ingrained as taboo from an early age as a boy. Angela knew how she felt, having had the same taboo driven into her skull as a boy. In her case it wasn’t so much as a "look, but don’t touch." It was more of, "don’t look, don’t touch." If a boy or man looked at the sexy lingerie displays, he would get frosty looks from any females nearby and Angela often wondered, if that was because they felt a man was invading their personal territory, or whether they were thinking he was some kind of pervert.
"It’s okay to feel them, after all you are female now, no need to feel embarrassed," she told Robin, thrusting a sexy satin bra into her hands. At first, Robin treated it like it would bite her, but gradually relaxed when she realised no one was taking any notice of her, as she ran her fingers over its smooth silkiness. When they moved to look at outer wear, she had five pairs of panty/bra sets of different colours and styles.
"How will I know what to pick?" Robin asked, as she faced the rows of dresses and skirts. "I have no idea what to do, or what goes with what," she added, fingering a yellow scalloped necked top.
"Oh I think you do, and I’ll prove it," refuted Brenda, grinning as she pointed out a slightly overweight woman in a striped top.
"What do you think of what that woman over there is wearing?" she whispered so she couldn’t be overheard.
Robin looked over at the woman and examined what she was wearing, before whispering back.
"Her top is all wrong. The stripes are horizontal which just emphasizes her bulges. If the stripes ran vertical, it would be far more slimming. Her pants are too tight, and again makes you notice her fat bum and thighs a wider leg would help hide that or she should stick to wearing skirts."
Robin rattled her opinion off without much thought, then suddenly realised what she’d said. She turned to Brenda with amazement.
"How did you know I’d know that?" Her eyes wide with surprise.
"Simple really," Brenda replied smugly, looking at her nails. "When I gave you those clothes to wear before you had the shower, there were several tops and skirts to pick from. When you came out, you had picked out the set that most suited you, and you had matched the top with the right skirt."
"It looks like the Goddess has given you some fashion sense," Angela joined in with a smile.
After that, the girls watched Robin at work, needing little advice, although they did curb her spending, as the prices were higher than usual, obviously aimed for the tourist market.
As Robin was paying for her purchases, Angela spotted a police car cruising past outside. Remembering her hunch, she asked for directions to the local cop shop. Brenda said nothing, knowing Angela must have a good reason for her query, as she followed Angela outside and start towards the police station. Robin followed reluctantly, not wanting to go, but needing to stay with them for her own safety.
"Excuse me, do you have a car here that belongs to a Robin Perkins?" was Angela’s first question, after getting the attention of the officer in charge
The man looked at the three women before him, before answering.
"I take it that one of you is Miss Perkins?"
Robin nodded, her throat suddenly very dry.
"Funny thing," the officer started, looking at a book in front of him. "One of my men made an error and brought it back here thinking it belonged to a Robert Perkins, who is a suspect in an attempted rape. I take it, that you’re no relation?" he asked, looking at Robin.
Robin managed to reply in the negative. The officer picked up her nervousness, but assumed it was the normal reason, when facing officers of the law and not from any deceit on her part. When he’d first heard of the mix-up and the similarity of the names, he’d wondered if this "Robin," had really been Robert in disguise, having had his share of dealing with cross dressed drivers before. That doubt was clearly quashed, as her looked the girl over. ‘Another computer glitch,’ he thought, mentally apprising to his men at doubting their word.
"We took what prints we could, so you can have the car back right away. In fact, I was about to have it driven back to the resort. I’m surprised you didn’t tell the officers that it was your car though," he added, feeling something didn’t feel right.
"Well she was so confused from the drugs, I’m surprised she knew her own name," Brenda interjected.
"Ah yes," the officer agreed, giving Robin the car keys. "Please sign here and here and you’re free to go," giving Robin a form to sign.
"Are there any towing charges?" asked Angela.
"No, the local tow truck was tied up at an accident on the Desert road, and couldn’t make it, so seeing the keys were in it, one officer drove it here," the officer explained
Robin was able to put her shopping in her own car. She thanked Angela for getting her car back.
"Look, it’s 1pm. Time for some lunch I think. Want to join us?" Brenda asked, looking at Robin.
"No, you go ahead. I think I’ll have a nosey around, before heading back," Robin answered, sounding much more confidant and looking happier now she had her independence back again with the return of her wheels.
"Okay, we’ll see you later then," Angela grinned, waving goodbye as Robin started the car.
Alone again, the two women found a takeaway, where they got a selection from the menu. They then drove the short distance to the southern side of Lake Taupo where Turangi was located. Finding a new sheltered spot, near the waters edge, they ate their fish and chips, while lulled by the gentle lapping of the wavelets against the pumice strewn shore. Feeling sated, they lay next to each other, letting the weak winter sun do its best to keep the chill away. In the peace and tranquility of the spot, both dozed off. Angela woke to a tongue requesting entrance to her mouth. She granted access as Brenda’s perfume washed over her.
"Hmmm that’s the only way to wake up," Angela commented, once Brenda drew back.
"We’d better get back, it’s nearly 3 pm," Brenda suggested, helping Angela stand up.
The sun, now low in the sky gave off little heat. Angela shivered, and was grateful of the warm arm of her wife held around her waist.
When they reached the car park of the resort, they saw a sight that surprised them. Robin was standing by her car talking to the ski instructor, who’d had the close shave with Angela.
Stephan was smiling as he stood talking to Robin. The women noted with a smirk to each other, that Robin was smiling too, and seemed at ease talking to Stephan. They wandered off inside, not seeing Angela or Brenda as they gave the pair time to go in.
Entering a few minutes later, Robin was nowhere to be seen. Before they could speculate on where the two were, the manager spotted them at the stairs and called out.
He hurried over to them, with an anxious look on his face. Brenda knew something was wrong, before he even opened his mouth.
"We have been trying to contact you. Your parents were in an accident. They are both in a critical condition."
For once, the self-assured Brenda was at a loss. What to do next? Her mind was in a tizzy, trying to sort out the priorities. A voice inside her was screaming for her to drop everything and fly home the quickest way possible, before it was too late. She had to force herself to listen to the manager, as he continued speaking.
"I checked with the airlines on your behalf and see you were due to fly out next week. I managed to get a rescheduled flight out at 10pm tonight. I’ve contacted the rental company for your camper and explained things to him. There’s a branch in Taupo where you can leave it. I won’t refund the payment you made for the two weeks stay here, as I’ve booked and paid for an internal flight, from Taupo to Auckland that will get you there at 8pm. I’m sorry your stay in New Zealand was marred by this unfortunate occurrence."
"Thank you for all you have done," Angela said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"My pleasure ma-am," the blushing manger got out.
"You go pack our things and I’ll go see if I can find Robin." Angela suggested, knowing keeping Brenda busy was the best thing at the moment.
Brenda went woodenly, still largely in shock, while Angela made some discrete enquiries. She found Robin at the bar in a corner alcove, along with Stephan. They seemed to be very chummy and Robin blushed when Angela arrived. When Angela explained the situation, Robin was more than a little shocked. After getting Robin alone on a pretext, Angela reassured her that she would be fine, but for her peace of mind, she gave Robin her cell phone number just in case. Looking at her watch, Angela saw she still had plenty of time and so asked a few questions of her own, regarding Stephan.
"Oh he’s nice, we meet in the car park. He offered my some skiing lessons free of charge. He offered to buy me a drink and we’ve been chatting."
"Just remember you have the baby making equipment now, so use protection if things get that far," Angela advised, with a smile.
Robin blushed, not wanting to mention how her body was reacting to the sight and smell of studly Stephan. Her body was awash in hormones and her nipples felt like they could drill holes in her clothes. Her body, plus more than a little curiosity, were urging her see just how far Stephan’s lesson would take her.
Angela hugged her, and said goodbye, knowing pretty much what was running through Robin’s mind. Despite the unpleasant news of Brenda’s parents, she felt happy for Robin. As she walked away, she giggled, wondering if she’d get an invite to the wedding.
Things moved quickly, and both Angela and Brenda were soon driving towards Taupo in the camper. Brenda had to be curbed from exceeding the speed limit several times by Angela, telling her there was plenty of time.
"I can’t help it, I just want to get home," Brenda moaned.
Angela sighed, fully in agreement, wondering what was happening and could they help in any way.
The flight home seemed to be much slower and any delays seem to be magnified exponentially to the need to get home, but eventually they did arrive at their destination. Hailing a cab, Angela had to scramble to get the luggage in before Brenda had the driver move off.
Immediately after getting home and dumping their luggage, they raced out to the hospital where their parents were being monitored. Angela drove the car, fearing if Brenda did, she might crash the car in her haste.
At the hospital, Brenda had to cool her heels while Angela, as the official daughter identified herself to the staff. Brenda nearly screamed in frustration, when she was told she couldn’t visit as it was family members only. Angela patiently explained that she was family, showing their identical wedding bands. Ignoring the odd look given them, they followed the nurse to intensive care where her parents were being kept alive by machines.
Brenda gasped when she saw the state of her parents. Wires and monitors were trailing everywhere and her mom and dad had bandages covering most of their bodies. A doctor in the area seeing them next to the beds came over with a solemn expression.
"Angela?" he asked Brenda, seeing the tears flooding down.
Brenda nodded; reflex making her answer to the name she was born with. She was too distraught to correct the doctor’s error as he explained the condition of her parents.
After the first dozen of the injuries were described, Brenda stopped listening. All that mattered was the glaring fact of her parent’s imminent death. They were being held in a comma to prolong their lives until their daughter could reach them. As the doctor was explaining that there was really no hope for their survival, Brenda noted Angela’s head bowed in prayer. The doctor shut off the monitoring machines with their approval, and injected a drug that would hopefully wake their parents for one last time. He then left them to themselves, drawing a curtain to give them some last moments of privacy.
"There’s a way to save them," Angela whispered, noting the look of shock cross Brenda’s face. "But it will have to be your parents decision if they decide to accept it," she added.
"The Goddess?" asked Brenda, her hope slowly rekindling.
"Yes, by the way, do you still have that case in the car with your spare change of clothes?"
"Yeah it’s still there," answered Brenda, bowing her own head in prayer.
Angela rushed out of the room, leaving Brenda to her own prayer to the Goddess. She came back in about 5 minutes, hauling a small case with her. Looking at Brenda’s face, she knew the Goddess had communicated the same plan that Angela had received.
Slight moans from Steven and Cynthia, heralded their growing awareness as the medication wore off. Both girls leaned over to speak softly to the critically injured parents. Once they were sure that both were cognizant and able to understand what had happened to them, the laid out the plan for them. Cynthia looked shocked and doubtful, but nodded her agreement. Steven took more convincing, but a look at his chart that Angela had held for him to read, soon had him nodding too.
Working quickly, both Angela and Brenda reached for the arms that had been so recently attached to the machines and opened their mouths in preparation to injecting them with the venom that dripped from the fangs that had sprung forth. Angela had to stop Steven from pulling away, as he saw her new dental arrangement, and realised they were telling the truth, the implications of which nearly made him decide to change his mind.
Too late, as Angela bit down, injecting him with a life prolonging liquid that would do more than just make him change his mind. The Goddess, knowing the situation, had made sure the changes were immediate. The girls had to race to remove the bandaging as the forms beneath them changed drastically. Shocked at what they’d become, left Steven and Cynthia bemused and unresisting as the girls dressed them in Brenda’s spare clothes.
It was strange seeing an adult male turn into a petite female in such a short period of time. They had missed most of Robin’s transformation and only Brenda, then Angela, had been aware of Brandon’s change, as he had been in a mental fog to help him ease into the changes ahead. Cynthia, being female was coping well to her change, looking much like a younger version of herself from what Brenda told her. Angela guessed her new age was around 25 and as for Steven, he now looked like Cynthia’s sister or cousin around the same age.
Both were blonde with nice figures and although not identical, looked related. Both Brenda and Angela knew that they’d have to get them both out of the room quickly knowing their parents were only just keeping a lid on it as they probably had a million questions to ask. Angela looked out from behind the curtain, praying for a chance to exit without notice.
As luck, or a Goddess would have it, a machine near the far wall decided to pop its cork, giving out all manner of spurious alarms. Seeing the doctors and nurses rushing to check it, Angela waved the others out from behind the curtain and raced them to the doors. They made it safely along the corridor and past the nurse call station. Using Brenda and Angela as shields, Cynthia and "Steven" walked close behind, so that their shoeless state wouldn’t be noticed. Clearing the busy entrance without discovery, they made their way to the car, where at last questions started coming thick and fast.
"Look it was the only way. You shouldn’t even be able to walk with a broken back," Brenda snapped at her former father.
Steven looked contrite, which with his new face, made him look cute.
"I don’t care what I look like, I’m only glad the pain is gone," avowed her mother, to which Steven had to agree.
He’d felt only half of what he should have when he had woken, everything from the waist down was numb but the top half of his body had been in agony. Cynthia didn’t have that luxury of painlessness from half her body; she had to bear up to it all as the drugs wore off.
After a pocket edition explanation of the Goddess' intervention without going into specifics, Cynthia asked Angela one searching question.
"You’re not my daughter are you?"
"No, I’m ... was Brandon," Angela answered, glad to finally get the truth out at last.
"I’m your real daughter," Brenda jumped in, before giving out a more detailed explanation.
They seemed to take in it stride, as Brenda explained, while driving back home. Any tendency to disbelieve was slammed shut by the incontrovertible fact of their own transformation.
"I’m grateful of course, but will I be a girl for the rest of my life?" asked a rather uncomfortable looking Steven.
"Only if you want too," teased a giggling Brenda, seeing her dad's predicament as a chance for some payback and hugely hilarious.
"So when can I change back?" he asked hopefully, fiddling with his skirt.
"Not for a while I suspect. The Goddess is powerful, but not all powerful." Angela supplied, having communed with her on the journey home. "The venom in our bodies makes us a focus point for all the magic in the world, through which she works her deeds. Earth lost a lot of its magic over time and she expended quite a bit fixing you both. Your real bodies have to be healed before you can return. It could be 6 months before it’s viable to return. Anyway the police are going to be looking for you and us probably, seeing we were with you when you disappeared. It’s a pity we couldn’t have taken your medical records from the hospital, as it’s going to be hard to convince them of your remarkable recovery down the track."
Brenda grinned and pointed to the small case sitting by Angela’s feet.
"Look in there. While you were on lookout, I snatched all the medical charts clipped on the beds. There are even the X-ray plates. I think they wanted all the evidence handy to convince us to allow our parents to die."
"Okay, so what do we say when the police come knocking on our door and see us there?" Cynthia asked curiously.
"We’ll work that out when we come to it," supplied a miffed Brenda, seeing no one had congratulated her on her quick thinking with the files.
"Surely there will be some records in the hospital computer system," speculated Steven, not fully convinced.
"I think that any files they have on computer will have been taken care of by a certain deity," supplied Brenda, thinking back on what had happened with Robin's records.
Arriving at the flat, the first order of business was sorting out some suitable attire for the transformees, much to Steven’s embarrassment. Cynthia dragged her altered husband to the bathroom for what to her, was the first priority, a shower. What she did while in there with Steven, was never revealed, although judging by the sounds, Angela and Brenda had a good ideal. Whatever they did, it produced two clean girls one of whom seemed a lot more at ease in her strange body.
"Okay, let’s get Stephanie dressed, I’m starved and the quicker we get dressed, the quicker we can go eat out," Cynthia told the others.
The newly christened Stephanie shrugged at the girls raised eyebrows at the mention of her new name, but oddly didn’t seem too nervous about the mention of eating out.
Being all females of around the same age, Brenda and Angela didn’t feel the need to leave the room when Cynthia and Stephanie picked at the clothes that had been laid out. Cynthia being more astute, picked the more conservative outfit, leaving the more ... revealing one for her husband to don. Leaving Cynthia to her own devices, Angela and Brenda swooped on Stephanie, as they showed her the basics of getting dressed. There were a lot of giggles as she struggled with a bra for the first time, with Cynthia restraining from making the obvious comment.
Stephanie joined in a few times, knowing she was making all sorts of fundamental mistakes, but deciding to enjoy this vacation from himself, seeing he/she was stuck like this for a while. The orgasm she’d had in the shower while being washed by her wife, had opened her eyes to something marvelous, combined with the feeling of how great this body of hers was. ‘Ah youth is wasted on the young,’ she thought as she bent over and touched her toes trying to get a stocking on. ‘This body is so limber I feel I could put my head between my legs and look up my own derriere,’ she thought, before reaching for the next item to put on.
Once Stephanie was dressed, Cynthia took over the make up duties, having already fixed her own face. Brenda went and looked through her pile of false ID cards, to see if there were any suitable. Stephanie was ready to paint the town, judging by the war paint Cynthia had used, when Brenda came back.
"Looking for a hot date tonight, Dad? I’m sure all the men will be following you around like bears after a honey pot," she teased.
For the first time, her femmed dad looked worried, but then Brenda relented and said she’d protect her.
"I know why you look similar in appearance," she continued, handing each a card. When they looked closely at the driver’s licenses, they saw a near perfect picture of their current selves. Cynthia was now Cindy Conrad and Stephanie was now officially Stephanie Court, becoming a cousin to both Cindy and Angela.
"I think it might be better for you two to stay in a motel for the next few days," Brenda suggested. "At least until we see what happens."
"After we eat, I think we need to do a little changing ourselves," Angela interrupted.
"Oh? What do you suggest?" Brenda asked.
"Well I’m blonde and you’ve let your hair go back to Brandon’s brown colour. The doctor thought you were Angela, so if he gives a description of you being Angela, it will all be wrong. You need to change your hair to black or become a red head so the police don’t twig that the doc got us confused. Instead of looking for a brown haired Angela and a blonde friend, they will get a blonde Angela and a redheaded friend."
"And this will help how?" questioned Brenda, not fully convinced.
"Trust me, I know what I’m doing," Angela answered her with a smirk.
"Let’s go eat, I’m starving," Cynthia prompted, moving to the door.
Stephanie balked when it was time to get out of the car at the restaurant.
"I don’t think I can do it," she moaned to the others.
"Of course you can, just relax and let the body do the talking." Brenda told her
"Talking to who? That’s what I’m afraid of," Stephanie tried to joke.
"Look, this wasn’t intended as a punishment," her daughter told her. "Although to some men it might be considered to be just that. I’m hoping you’re man enough now that you’re a woman to treat it as a gift, a chance to explore how the other 50 percent of the population copes with life. We’re not asking you to jump into bed with the first guy that comes along. I’m sure Mom will want to be the first to do ... " here, Brenda paused, realizing she may have said too much at this time.
Stephanie didn’t pick up on the last hint, her mind thinking on Brenda’s earlier words about treating this change as a learning experience. Cynthia though, was alert enough to catch the drift of her daughter’s words. To have sex with her husband, as a woman was strangely attractive, not that she was a lesbian or had any leanings to trying it out. She wondered if her new view was part of the package the Goddess gave her, after all, 6 months was a long time to abstain from their regular periods of sex.
Brenda changed the subject, hoping that sex would hold a pleasant surprise once they found that penises could be grown at will.
"Check your lipstick, I think you smudged it," she told her dad.
Stephanie got out the compact that had been placed in her purse and looked at her face and then flicked her hair back as she examined her pristine lips.
"It looks okay to me," she said, raising an enquiring eyebrow to Brenda.
"What did you just do?"
"Checked my makeup like you told me," grumbled Stephanie, putting her compact away again.
"What else?" Brenda asked, getting a blank look in return, she explained. "The way you flicked your hair back was indistinguishable from the way any natural woman would do it. What I’m saying is that you’ve been given the deluxe package with the built in instincts to help you fit in."
"I noticed she walked and moved very naturally myself and wondered about that," Cynthia interjected, adding her two cents worth.
"Let’s eat," Angela argued, this time without a murmur from Stephanie, as she got out of the car.
Although the sight of four attractive women attracted the attentions of the male clientele in the restaurant, the meal wasn’t interrupted by any problems. Afterwards, they dropped Cynthia and Stephanie off at a motel, then went into the nearest chemist for some hair dyes and something that Brenda kept hidden from Angela. Once they reached home Brenda started the process of colouring her hair red. She was still in the bathroom finishing up, when an authoritative sounding knock on the door came.
Expecting it to be the police, Angela answered it, giving Brenda the hurry up on the way. Before she reached the door, she felt a faint tingle all over her skin that felt kind of weird. Shrugging it off, she went and opened the front door.
It was the police just as she’d guessed. They were then surprised when apprised of her identity, obviously expecting her description to be as reported. Being police, this didn’t stop them asking the questions they wanted answers to.
"Do you know the whereabouts of your parents? According to our report, you were the last to see them in the intensive care unit," one of the officers asked.
"They are in the hospital? What happened? Intensive care? Oh no! I must see them at once," Angela wailed, making as to go grab her car keys.
The police seemed nonplussed at her act, taking it as genuine as they tried to stall her rush while they explained the situation.
"You’re saying I’ve already visited my dying parents and then made them disappear into thin air? Who made these preposterous claims? Where are my parents? Last I heard, they were going abroad while we were on our honeymoon." Angela shouted, her anger plainly evident.
Her plan was working. Obviously there had been no video footage of their leaving the hospital. Her plan to deny everything and play innocent was paying off, putting the police on the back foot.
"You say you just got married?"
"Yes, my wife and I just got back from our honeymoon."
While the two police tried taking in the fact Angela had said her wife, Brenda decided to make her entrance.
The two police saw the widening of Angela’s eyes and turned around to see Brenda stride into the room. The shock of seeing Brenda in this new form, nearly made Angela give the game away. She was almost too stunned to speak, as Brenda introduced herself to the goggling policemen.
If they were expecting a shorthaired butch looking lesbian to appear, they were sadly mistaken. Looking like she had just finished a show in Los Vegas, Brenda, now a 6 foot tall redhead with legs that seemed to go all the way up and then some, waited, for the officers to respond, (intelligibly, that is) as she wasn’t fluent in gasps and gurgles.
Angela realised the Goddess had been at work again, making sure Brenda bore no resemblance to the person the doctors had spoken to. Brenda was barefoot and the view was uninterrupted, till what looked like a hand towel or even just a flannel was wrapped around her body. The towel, such as it was, started at her crotch and did little to hold up her massive boobs that were fighting the knot tucked in their grasp. To do other than stand straight would have her arrested for a decent exposure. Angela wished she had a camera handy, to take an exposure of her own. She wouldn’t even need to use the flash if Brenda lifted a leg, as that would provide a nice substitute.
"Brenda, stop that. Go get dressed, these policemen have pressing business, we don’t want to hold them up." Angela scolded with tongue in cheek. She had seen some pressing business tenting the officer’s pants despite their pitiful attempts at hiding their arousal. Brenda pouted and turned to leave, giving the men a small finger wave as she went out of sight.
Once the officers started breathing again, they asked only a few more questions to see if she knew of anyone who answered to the description that he gave her from his notebook. Angela was a bit puzzled why her own appearance wasn’t setting off alarm bells as it fitted the one described as the friend. Going to get a drink of water to delay answering, she found out why. The tingling she felt before answering the door must have been when the Goddess decided to change her as well. Noticing her reflection in the chrome jug, she saw that instead of blonde, she was now raven haired. Coupled with the fact that her hard won tan was gone, her pale face stood out in contrast. All she needed was a long black drapy costume to become another Elvira.
Her negative answer seemed to satisfy the two men, as did Brenda’s when she came out looking only slightly less sexy in a short, skintight, electric blue dress.
Although the officers seemed satisfied that they were looking for two other women in connection with the strange abduction at the hospital and were ready to leave, Angela had to play out one more scene to drive home another point to cement their innocence.
"I hope you catch those perpetrators of this bad joke. You really had me going, till you said that they were in hospital downtown. I had only spoken to my mom half an hour ago. When they get back in 6 months, I’ll have them contact you," a disgruntled Angela told them.
As the two officers left, Angela overheard one muttering about searching the doctors for the dope they must have been smoking. She waited till they were out of earshot, before erupting into laughter.
"Going into show business are we?" she asked Brenda, waking around her wife with a wide grin on her face.
"Speak for yourself," retorted a grinning Brenda, looking at Angela with a speculative look.
"I suppose this was your idea?" Angela asked, grabbing a lock of her black hair and shaking it at Brenda.
"Guilty as charged, I thought that even if they knew from records that you were blonde and it was just a dye job, seeing your pallid skin against it, would make it hard to visualize you as a blonde with a tan."
"Well done," was Angela’s reply as she went to kiss her wife.
"Lean down, damnit, You’re too tall," Angela grumbled, as she arched her neck up to reach Brenda’s lips. "I hope you’ll pay for the chiropractor, if you decide to stay like that. I can see I’ll be getting neck strain just looking up at you."
"Shoot ... I thought you’d just stare straight ahead at my cleavage," Brenda smirked, forcing Angela’s face down into her ample bosoms.
"Mrfle snuml ... " was Angela’s muffled reply.
"How long are we going to keep this new look?" Asked Angela the next morning, as she tried to co-ordinate her wardrobe with her raven hair and pallid face.
She felt a bit different today, but put it down to the slight change in her looks. She mentioned it to Brenda, asking if there’d been any other changes made she wasn’t aware of.
"Oh, I thought a few weeks," Brenda replied, coming up to her with a paper cup. "Can you pee in here? I want to check your electrolytes," she asked casually, handing Angela the cup.
"Okay, sure." Answered the unsuspecting Angela, failing to see the look in Brenda’s eyes. "Now?" she added, still trying to decide whether to wear a white top and blue skirt or the burgundy dress with the runched front.
Seeing her nod, Angela gave Brenda the chore of choosing while she went and filled the cup.
Of course, when Angela came back, she saw Brenda had chosen her L.B.D with the sequined bodice.
"Got something planned, have we?" she asked, handing Brenda the cup.
"I think so," was Brenda’s short reply as she whisked out the doorway heading to the bathroom.
Angela sighed and got ready. She found her black heels, but left them off her feet, walking around in her dark hose till they were ready to leave. She primped at the mirror while waiting for Brenda to return.
When she did come back, her look made Angela worry. "What’s the matter? That grin means trouble, I know it."
"Honey, guess what ... we’re pregnant!"
"Whaaa!" gasped a surprised Angela. "I’m so glad for you, it’s what we wanted," she finally got out.
"Not just me love, both of us. We are both pregnant. We are both about to become mothers ... Angela ... Angela?" The last fell on deaf ears as Angela fainted.
"Come on, Love, wake up, or we’ll be late," Brenda urged, her voice seeming to become stronger the more Angela came to.
"I thought you said I was pregnant," mumbled Angela, trying to make intelligible speech with her benumbed synapses.
"I did, we are both going to be mommies. Isn’t that wild?"
While the confirmation of her present status threatened another brown out, Angela tried to reply. "Wild," was all she managed, as she sat up. "Are you sure?" she added, now the blood flow resumed, flowing properly.
"I’m sure. I tested myself last night when my period didn’t start on time. You know I’m like clockwork. I was going to mention it before the police came, but afterwards in bed didn’t seem right."
"Well you had your mouth full most of the time," Angela reminded her with a giggle.
"Yeah, anyway, so I figured I’d wait till today and tell you when I tell Mom and Dad. When you mentioned feeling off, I checked your urine with the pregnancy tester I bought last night. This way we can both tell them the good news."
"I wonder how your dad will feel, knowing he has the same chance of becoming pregnant as well." Angela mused.
"Well, we won’t remind her now, will we?"
"You’re so bad," gasped Angela, seeing the glint in Brenda’s eyes. With her thoughts turned to the possible consequences of Brenda’s father becoming pregnant, she forgot about her own soon to be developing child. It wasn’t until they arrived at the place where the parents were staying, that it came crashing back, that this was what they came to tell them.
"Hi, Cindy. Hi, Steph," Brenda greeted her parents, as they breezed in. She had shortened their names as befitted their now apparent ages. Her mother looked too cute to be called Cynthia and she wasn’t going to call her father, Dad, or by any other masculine term.
"Girls?" Cynthia questioned, seeing their changed looks for the first time, even though Brenda had warned them about it on the phone prior to coming over. Stephanie just waved, as she struggled to fix her hair, her mouth filled with bobby pins.
"Just been teaching her some styles, seeing she’s stuck like this for a while," She explained to them.
Before mentioning that they were about to become grandparents, Brenda related what had happened with the police and why they now looked as they did.
Then she dropped the bombshell. Of course they were stunned at the news. Cynthia clapped her hands at the thought of having twins, even though it would be from different mothers. She didn’t seem fazed that the former male that now looked like her daughter was also pregnant. Stephanie, on the other hand, was obviously shocked. Maybe she realised that she too could become pregnant, now she had the same equipment.
"But who is the father?" Stephanie asked, obviously thinking they had outside help.
"We are, we impregnated each other. We are both mother and father," Brenda explained as if to a child.
"You mean those things work?" A shocked Stephanie asked, her reference to "those things," being obvious and meant that she’d experienced having one of "those things," in her recently added tackle box.
"Hope you used protection?" Teased Brenda, grinning at the sight of her father looking scared out of his/her wits.
Cynthia didn’t seem worried about the prospects of having another child. Maybe she knew that only her husband might be lucky to have the chance to experience bearing a child. Whatever the case was, she was happy to know her daughters were pregnant and was bouncing up and down like a teenager, which was pretty appropriate, given her new body.
"Let’s go out and celebrate," she cried, dashing to get changed into something suitable. She grabbed Stephanie before any protest could be voiced, dragging her into the bedroom as well.
"Um, is your father going to get pregnant?" Angela whispered to Brenda, now the room was vacant.
"Nah, I’m just pushing her buttons. I asked the Goddess to let her experience her flows after a few days. I guess I was being a bit mean, but its going to be funny, watching her deal with it. She won’t know whether to hate it or love it, seeing it will mean she isn’t pregnant yet. What’s the bet she goes on the pill in a few days."
Angela laughed, relieved. Brenda’d had a few issues with her dad, and Angela hoped that both of them being female and the same age, would help resolve them before her dad returned to being himself, if that is what she chose to do. Six months is a long time as a changee. You never know what decision might be made when the time comes to choose. Both parents might decide the age reduction was worth the price of giving up their old identity. And even as a female, Stephanie didn’t look too distressed. Maybe knowing he could father another child or become a mother might grow on or in her.
As for herself, well she was happy. Sure, being a mommy was going to be scary, but she had her love going through the same thing with her. She wondered if she wanted a boy or a girl. Oh well, whichever it is, there’s always next time.
The four young women left the motel, dressed to the nines and made their way to the car. Their future was uncertain, but sure to be a lot of fun. The Goddess looked down on them and smiled. She did good work. Time to involve herself in mortal affairs again. ‘It had been most enlightening,’ she thought. Ah! Now here is an apt candidate.
The end.
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Comments
Great Story and great artwork
Hello Prudence
I just wanted to leave a message to say how much I loved this story. You can write really well and draw too. Why do you not do more artwork for your story's?
I'm slowly working my way through all your story's and will leave comments on all of them.
PLEASE KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!!!!!
Athena
Too much?
Well I hate to sound over critical here but I feel this story would have benefited from being divided into two or possibly even three parts - I would have had part one up to the point that original Angela became a Snake, the Second part ending at the Wedding and the third part being all the Honeymoon etc stuff.
To be honest everything after the Wedding was fluff and in fact kind of irritated me. There was dramatic tension with Angela's Fate, With dealing with the change and telling the Conrad's of their love but after that the Goddess became a fix all MacGuffin that solved even the most tragic problems. Raped? Never mind the goddess will turn your assailant into a cute little femmy woman who will undoubtedly embrace her new life completely. Parents horribly injured and about to die? Never mind The Goddess will turn them into Hotties - problem solved. Problems are not solved that easily - I would have preferred a bit more dramatic tension - sure I like happy endings but there should be consequences and a chance of failure - they should work for their happiness. The most ludicrous was with Robin Perkins new ID - are you really expecting us to believe that Angela Conrad had a whole bunch of fake IDs with different faces and one just happened to fit the new name and face of this scum-bag turned hottie?
In short the second half - after the wedding was dull and flabby - I did like the descriptions of New Zealand and it was kind of fun in parts but it just felt like a different story.
This is a good story up to a point - really good in fact with a weird and original transformation mechanism and a happy ending halfway through - pity that you felt the need to give in to the temptation to write too much.
Please be aware though Prudence, that I really do like your stories and want to see more of them - I hope I haven't been inadvertently too hurtful.
The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!
The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!