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Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. Any resemblence between characters and places and real people and places is entirely unintended and coincidental.This story is copyright (c) 2012 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Morning came and Charlie rolled over, noting with interest the curious independent movement of certain body parts. The nightdress had somehow worked its way up during the night and was now bunched around his waist. It was broad daylight and he thought he must have overslept.

Who cares? It's Sunday anyway and I'm not on the treadmill any longer. Time to greet the world.

He decided not to shower this morning as he usually did. Partly, he wasn't entirely sure about the water supply situation and partly it was because he just didn't care.

He went from the bathroom straight into the main bedroom and selected a fresh pair of knickers and another bra. He knew from association with girlfriends that knickers got worn once and then washed. If clean, it was acceptable to keep the same pair on overnight. He didn't remember any bra routine, though. Hanging in the wardrobe he found a short-sleeved cotton khaki shirt-dress which he decided might be practical if he was going to look through boxes of old papers. The same sandals went on his feet, his hair received a good brushing and he was ready for the day.

Breakfast was the same as yesterday, toast and coffee. He had enough of each to last him perhaps another day but after that he really would have to go shopping, somewhere, somehow. Once the dishes had been washed and left to dry he went to the study to continue his researches. What he found puzzled him.

It seems that, for a short time at least, both Alan and Alice managed to co-exist simultaneously. At least, I have dated evidence that both signed documents over the same small period of time. That sounds as though this might not be a single-shot one way ticket like I first imagined. If that is the case, then how..?

Shaking his head, he continued until hunger pangs made him realise it was lunch time again. Taking his plate of sandwiches and glass into the paved area, he paused.

That was stupid, what I did yesterday. I got myself burned unnecessarily.

Putting the glass and plate down, he laboriously dragged the lounger across the paved area until it was nearly under the closest apple tree.

This is not as easy as I thought it would be. Perhaps I don't have the strength I had before. I'm going to have to watch that, might hurt myself if I don't make allowances.

There! This way I'll be mostly shaded, and when the sun moves round I'll just be under the next tree.

This time he had brought his iPad out and after eating he examined the time-line he had drawn on the device.

I still reckon that was what happened. Alan Wrayburn came here and soon became Alice Wrayburn. Looks like she pretended to be Alan for a while after the transition, presumably to get her ID set up and the property title altered.

Could I pretend to be Charlie? I don't think so, not with these on my front. My face looks... similar, that I grant you, but the people who know me well are the ones I'd have to fool, and I can't see that happening.

Again the warmth of the sun made him sleepy and he wasn't too bothered about dozing off. After all, what could be better than falling asleep on a warm Sunday afternoon, a warm breeze rustling the trees around you, insects humming, the cries of birds echoing from the skies?

This time it wasn't the cool air that woke him but rather a tiny discrepancy that his brain had noted and worried at while he slept.

Huh. Shows my powers of observation aren't up to much. Wonder what else I've missed?

What was it I saw anyway? Let's go and see.

Galvanised into action, he hurried inside and up to the bathroom. Opening the bathroom cabinet, he retrieved the tube of Seal Lubricant.

I was right! How could I have missed that before?

The tube, like the one he knew was in the bedroom, had about a third used.

If this was a one way deal, then surely only one of these tubes would have been used? Also, it only took a tiny bit for me to rub the whole length of that seal, so how come a third of each of these tubes has been used? I can't believe that many men have been changed into women!

The excitement rising, he hurried into the bedroom. Placing the tube carefully on the dressing table so that he wouldn't get them mixed up, he pulled the box from on top of the hat-boxes and shook out the other tube. His eyes narrowed. Picking up the other tube, he went to the window to examine them closely.

Well I never! Such a tiny detail, too. I wonder how many other people never noticed that?

The tubes were the old style of thin metal, manufactured long before plastic became the standard. Each was coated in white with the words printed in fancy script in black on one side. So much the same. But behind the words, and covering most of the tube, was a swirly design of thin lines, a decorative pattern like that used on banknotes to discourage counterfeiting. One tube had red lines and the other blue. The red lined tube was the one that had been in the box with the garment.

If red is for girls, then, by association, blue is for boys. Isn't it? Oh, God, I hope so. I really hope so.

He sat down abruptly on the bed, overwhelmed by his new discovery. He began shaking and the tears came again. Once again, his world had been turned upside down. Finally, he calmed down, exhausted by the roller coaster of emotions.

Do it now?

It's a little warm. And now I have control of the process - I hope, I really hope I do - I don't have to try it immediately, do I?

It can't be a quick process, anyway. The other time it took all night. I'll wear the garment tonight, with the blue seal lubricant, and see what happens. If it doesn't work, I'm no worse off than I am now.

It if succeeds...

The implications of an amazing possible future suddenly sprang into his mind.

Oh, wow! I bet that's what really happened. It has to be. That's why they could seemingly exist at the same time. So, what should I do, assuming this works the way I think it does?

He stood and started pacing up and down the bedroom.

Stupid! You can figure that out tomorrow, once you know whether it worked or not. Leave it! Tonight, now that you know it's possible you aren't backed into a corner, why not just enjoy being a woman? Wasn't that what this whole business was about in the first place?

He smiled to himself and began unbuttoning the shirt-dress.

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Charlie Maxwell was awakened by the sound of birds' cries and scrabbling from the eaves just outside the bedroom window. He blinked and came to, conscious that it was still early morning by the light streaming through the bedroom window.

Then he recalled what had happened to him during the last two days and came fully alert.

He looked down to see the familiar mounds on his chest, snugly retained by the fabric of the unusual garment he had worn through the night. The weight felt about the same but... something felt different. Eager to see the results of his experiment he threw the light covering back so that his whole body lay exposed.

It looked the same, at least superficially. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, shivering in the morning chill. His hands went to the cups of the garment. It was strange, it was as though he could feel his skin, and his skin could feel his hands, but there was a certain something there... like padding. Good start. He reached an exploratory hand down to his lower front and was rewarded by feeling a very familiar sensation through the fabric.

Phew. I'm a man again.

He sat on the edge of the bed feeling immensely relieved and at the same time a little sad. What had happened to him the previous two days had taken him places both physically and mentally he hadn't known existed, and now he was just boring Charlie Maxwell again.

Still, he had made an important decision during the night and if things went right Charlie Maxwell might not be around much longer.

First things first though. As had been the case Saturday and Sunday when he had awoken, nature called. But before he could even do that he had to take a shower.

Power shower dials twisted to the right locations, he stood under the spray and let the warm water wake his body properly. He hadn't even attempted to remove the garment this time, knowing what the result would be, but as the water worked its way through he could feel it changing, loosening it's grip on his skin. In a very short space of time he was able to peel it off and flip it into the washbasin for later rinsing and drying. The garment needed to be looked after with great care, now. It was the key to his entire future, after all.

He dried himself, noting with disappointment that his skin felt much less sensitive. The texture was harder, coarser.

If I had never sampled the life of a woman, would I ever have known the difference between the genders? I suspect not. Funny how we all wander round, completely ignorant of what the other side feels, smells, tastes, sees. We all think we are the same, I now know that's entirely wrong.

He examined his face in the bathroom mirror. Again, he didn't quite know if it was him or not. The nose looked a little longer, perhaps, but for the rest, he would just have to hope everybody else saw him the way they always had done. He ran his fingers round his chin noting that his skin was still smooth.

At least I got something out of this weekend, I didn't have to shave at all.

Before leaving the bathroom he rinsed out the corselette and hung it up to dry as before. He decided to check his body out in front of the mirror in the main bedroom, padding naked across the tiny landing. Everything looked normal, just the way he remembered it had done before.

My bits and pieces seem all right this morning. I was a little worried about that, especially seeing as how they had completely disappeared yesterday. As they say, everything still seems to be in perfect working order!

Perhaps his waist was a little lower? His hips slightly narrower? And what of his feet, were they bigger? Logic said that the changes would be reversed but what if things had gone a little farther?

Am I still going to be able to get into my old clothes? I certainly hope so!

Back in the guest bedroom he dressed in his usual clothes, discovering that they still fit him as well as they ever did.

Mens' clothes seem so baggy after yesterday. I think on the whole I prefer the other kind. Ugh! And these are rough to the skin, as well!

He made up the guest bed and carefully repacked his overnight bag. A quick check that everything and everywhere was clean and tidy and he went downstairs to make breakfast. The bread had begun to go hard in the warm weather but it was fine for toasting. He used up the remains of the loaf, there just wasn't any point leaving any. Once finished he washed up what he had used and made sure the kitchen and scullery looked clean and tidy.

The next task was to use the telephone wired into the living room. He had to go through his own smartphone address book to find the right number.

"Hello..? Yes, I need to speak to Dominic Everhart-Smythe in Settlements, please. It's Charlie Maxwell. Oh, hi, Brenda! Yes, I'll tell you all about it when I'm next in." Not all about it, no. I can't think of a quicker way to spread scandal round the entire district. "...Dom, it's Charlie! Of course I'm not in! That's why I'm on the phone... Yes. If I could get a word in edgeways? ...Yes, I will. So, listen. I told you I was going to go out to this cottage I've been left, pick up some papers and come straight back? Well, something's come up, I'm going to have to visit the solicitor handling the bequest this morning... Yes, this has to be done in person, Dom. We're not all wired up out here in the sticks, you know. There's no signal here and no Internet either, and I doubt the solicitor knows how to use a web browser anyway... What? Not a chance. I don't know how long this will take and it's about a four to five hour drive, you realise that? ...Wednesday, I guess. I might have to find some local tradesmen, as well, and I'll travel back tomorrow... Well you'll just have to like it, Dom. I haven't taken any leave this year and I have so many hours owing it isn't funny. See you Wednesday, Dom."

He slammed down the phone, anxious to be rid of the demands of work. The job itself was fairly absorbing, he liked doing it and it paid extremely well, it was just all the absolute bastards he had to work with. Now that he had an alternative possibility in mind he couldn't wait to be out of that place.

The second and third phone calls were local and much briefer. He checked all the downstairs rooms and made sure the windows and doors were secured properly, then, with his bag in one hand, he made for his Range Rover.

The village was about a mile from the cottage and Charlie stopped at the tiny shop to buy a paper. This wasn't his only reason to stop, he wanted to check out the shop to see what variety of goods it held and the prices it charged - it might be his nearest supply of food and household goods if his plan worked.

There was no pub, no post office and no bus service. Owning some kind of vehicle was going to be essential if he were to move to the cottage. Charlie drove off towards the local market town where the estate agent and solicitor were based. Parking there was easy this early in the day and Charlie smiled as he used the Pay-and-Display machine. An all-day ticket to park here cost less than twenty minutes on a meter in Central London.

The office of the solicitor was nearby in the main street and Charlie made himself known to the receptionist. He was asked to wait and given a coffee. He had taken his paper with him and he read this while he waited. After some minutes he was ushered into Barker's office.

"Mr Maxwell, please take a seat. I trust you are well? You have found some kind of problem, I take it, to bring yourself here this morning?"

"Not a problem exactly, Mr Barker. I've changed my mind, I don't want to sell the cottage now. I spent the week-end there and my... opinions of the place have changed somewhat."

"Oh, really?" Barker's eyebrows rose. "Well, of course, that's your right. It will become your property, of course, as soon as the will is probated and you are perfectly at liberty to do with it as you wish. Have you informed the estate agent yet, may I ask?"

"I did, yes. I phoned them first thing this morning, and I went to them and confirmed in writing before I came here."

"Hmm. If you will excuse me? I ought to get out the file, have the details in front of me."

Barker got up and went outside. Charlie could hear him talking with the receptionist and presently he returned carrying a thick folder.

"Here we are... of course. Tell me, Mr Maxwell, will I offend you if I telephone the estate agent and confirm your instructions? There are... particular reasons for my request."

Charlie gestured to the phone on Barker's desk. "Be my guest."

Barker phoned the estate agent and confirmed that, yes, the client had called in and cancelled the sale order. He hung up.

"Very well. Mr Maxwell, I should have asked, you realise there is a cancellation fee due to the estate agent? You are content to pay this?"

"Of course. So long as it's reasonable."

Barker bent his head over the folder and presently lifted a sealed packet which he inspected closely.

"I must enquire, sir, what you intend to do with the property. In general terms, of course."

Charlie shrugged. "Why, live in it, I think. It won't happen immediately, because I have a job in London and an apartment there as well, and both will have to be dealt with. But, yes, it is my intention to move here to live. Why?"

"This came with the will," Barker explained. "There are instructions that it is only to be opened in the event that you decided to reside in the cottage. If you were to sell or let it, then the packet is to be destroyed by fire without opening. Here, you may read it for yourself."

Barker passed the packet over and Charlie read the crabbed writing.

If she's done this, then that more or less confirms my theory. Now, how much does Barker know?

He handed the packet back to the solicitor with a question.

"Suppose that I told you I was going to live in the cottage, we opened the packet and then I changed my mind?"

It was Barker's turn to shrug. "It isn't practical to write post-mortem instructions that can cover every possible future combination of actions." He gave Charlie a wry smile. "That's why there are lawyers, after all, and why we can charge large fees in certain circumstances. In your case, though, I judge you to be a reasonably truthful, honest individual and I will believe you when you say that you wish to live in the cottage. Good enough, Mr Maxwell?"

"Good enough, Mr Barker."

Barker took a pair of scissors and carefully cut the string binding the packet. Opening the thick paper wrapping revealed a number of envelopes and a thin sheet of silvery metal.

"What's this?" Barker held it up with a frown.

"May I?" Charlie took the metal sheet and realised it was very light.

"I think it's insurance," he said. "I believe this is magnesium, so that if the packet were to be burnt, then it would make certain nothing remained that could be read." He put the sheet on the desk between them.

"There are three envelopes," Barker noted. "Two addressed to you by name and one to me. This one of yours says, 'read me first'."

"Shall we read them now?" Charlie asked. "They may raise more questions or have further instructions."

Barker nodded and handed two to him before opening his own. Charlie used his finger to rip the first envelope open and then pulled out the letter he found within.

"Dearest child," (it read)

"If you are reading this, then I will be dead and you have inherited my cottage and lands. Further, you will have decided to live in the cottage, and you will probably have decided this as a result of what you have found in the cottage.

"You know by now that I was once like you. In fact, we are more alike than you probably realise. I, too, wondered from an early age whether I should be a boy or a girl. I, too, was sent to boarding school where all such thoughts had to be suppressed or forgotten. I, too, made my way in the world until I came across the object which enabled me to fulfil my true destiny.

"I came across this garment by chance, as part of the effects which were left when I bought another property, a house in a quiet suburb in the Midlands. I do not know how many previous owners it has had but I judge not many, otherwise more of the seal lubricant would have been used up. I do not have any idea where it comes from or how it works. I'm not even sure that the box you found it in is the original one. I only know that it does work, and by now I am sure that you are convinced of the same. Look after it carefully and it will serve you and many others well in the years to come.

"Because of my own leanings I was ever alert for others like me and I quickly noticed you during visits I made to your family and those of my brothers and sisters. I vividly remember you playing with my nieces one summer's day, all wearing sun dresses, laughing and shrieking on the lawn behind your Aunt Margaret's house. You must have been about five years old. There were many other signs as well, although you did well to try and hide them, and I recognised that you were caught in the same trap as I was. In the following years, as we both grew older, I kept note of your progress but thought little more of it. After all, what could either of us do?

"Then I discovered the garment and everything changed. In those days, transitioning from a man to a woman was something the establishment frowned on and I had to use some unorthodox methods to turn myself into a legal woman. These days your problems are greatly reduced, my dear. If you were to take a holiday to certain countries abroad and return with a certificate (which would not be that difficult to arrange by one means or other) I'm sure that you could make your own transition quite painless by comparison to my own.

"I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer nearly a year ago and I knew that I only had a certain time left to me. I had to make certain that you were the appropriate one to pass my gift on to and so I employed a firm of private detectives to make sure that I had not chosen incorrectly. I apologise for doing so, it was an invasion of privacy that was unavoidable but necessary. The results confirm that you are the right person to inherit this gift. We are so alike, you and I.

"The garment only seems to work while you are asleep. Every night you wear it will make your body more male or female as appropriate. It won't make you more male than possible or more female than possible. It does not appear to make you older or younger. If you wear it two nights one way, then you will need to wear it two nights the other way to reverse all the changes. From what I know of you I think you will not be wearing this garment very often at all, any more than I did. It will give you a chance to become your true self at a speed that is appropriate to your own circumstances, which I know will be difficult in the short term.

"If you are wondering if you have the funds to adopt a new lifestyle, let me put your mind at rest. In the other envelope is the instruction leaflet for the garment plus a key and a security code to a safe deposit box at a bank in Birmingham. I am sorry, some of the funds therein have been used to ease my final days but what is left should help boost your own savings.

"My dear, I must end this letter now. I am becoming very tired. Barker knows a little of my story, although he does not know about the garment. That is between you and me. Enjoy living in the cottage. Enjoy the fresh country air. Enjoy the new life you have ahead of you.

"Alice Wrayburn."

Charlie lowered the letter, overwhelmed.

So, this whole thing had been set up, just for me! She's right, absolutely right, I am going to do it!

He looked up to find Barker looking at him.

"Interesting," the solicitor said. "I knew about Miss Wrayburn's... difficulties, of course. She had been a client of ours for many years, although it was old Mr Brocklebank who used to deal with her before he retired, she was never my client. Her letter indicates that she believes that you are of a similar nature?"

"Yes, that's true," Charlie replied reluctantly. "Although I didn't really understand that nature until relatively recently."

"Well, in that case, you should know that this firm will be at your disposal should you encounter any difficulties in the future, er, as your status changes. And we are quite prepared to act for you in the same way as we acted for Miss Wrayburn, that is as her personal law agents. There is land attached to the cottage, and rural bye-laws can seem somewhat complex, especially for someone like yourself who is city based."

"I understand, Mr Barker. Yes, I see no reason why you shouldn't act for me here."

"I'll have a document drawn up and posted to you. At your London address?"

"Please."

"Then, Mr Maxwell, I believe we are done for today. Unless there is something else?"

"No, that's everything for now, thanks. I'll be in touch."

Charlie put the letter back into the envelope and put both envelopes into his inside jacket pocket. Standing, he shook Barker's hand then made his way out of the office onto the street. The day had begun to warm up and more people were about in the streets. Casting about he spied a small cafe with tables on the pavement and headed towards it.

I need to sit and digest this. My entire life has just changed for ever. What an amazing woman she must have become!

With a coffee and a Danish he made himself comfortable, sitting in such a way that no-one could read over his shoulder. Then he pulled out the letter and read it again.

Number one question is, who was she? Or rather, who was he? It's obvious now that it must have been someone I knew well as a child. She mentions Aunt Margaret, and she said I was about five.

He couldn't remember the occasion at all. Apparently, running around with two female cousins, dressed like them, had made no significant impression on him. Like it was a natural thing for him to do.

Who was around about that time? Dunno, there were loads of people who got called "Uncle" this and "Auntie" that, could have been anyone. Don't remember any Uncle Alans, though.

Wait. I'm making assumptions, here. Supposing he just kept the initials and had a dummy male name during the change-over process? She implied she had to do some dodgy dealings to get the paperwork right, didn't she? So who...

...Not Uncle Andrew, surely? He was supposed to have died during a holiday in Turkey years ago, wasn't he? What was his name... Andrew Westcott. Bingo!

And he, she, has been watching over me all that time.

He drank some of the coffee, ate the pastry.

If she went through the change years ago, why didn't she contact me earlier, while she was still alive? I could have easily travelled out to the cottage and done my thing, with her overseeing the process. Why did she wait until it was too late for her?

He drank off the remains of the coffee.

Money, perhaps. She waited until I could stand on my feet first. The cottage and land is worth a fair bit, but only if you want to be stuck in the country. She had a nest egg in Birmingham, but I've no idea how much is left. And perhaps she wanted to keep a respectable distance between her and the rest of the family, in case someone could draw conclusions.

Maturity, perhaps. I'll give her that one. Not so many years ago I wouldn't have been able to deal with what she has given me now. Heck, that was some weekend I just lived through! I needed to be old enough to understand the implications and handle the consequences.

He waved to the girl and asked for another coffee. Once she had brought it he reached into his jacket and pulled out the other envelope. Inside was the expected key, a sheet with instructions for gaining access to the safe deposit box, a printed leaflet which went through the use of the garment, and a sheet of paper he read with surprise.

It was a list of transgender groups and other organisations in England that he might find useful. Names and address of clinics both domestic and foreign. There were even website addresses! Perhaps Aunt Alice hadn't been quite so cut off, deep in the country, as he had imagined.

She's thought of everything. What a wonderful legacy to have been given. I'm going to do my darnedest to make sure I live up to it, too!

He thought again about his plans for the future.

Technology has moved on since Alice's time, I'll bet. I'm sure there are non-destructive tests that can be done on the corselette to try and understand how it does what it does. I suspect that I'm not going to get any answers, at least not for some years to come, if ever. I could take samples of the lubricant, though, get them analysed. That garment becomes much more useful if the supply of lubricant isn't so limited.

He rubbed his hands together with excitement.

There's so much to plan, so much to do. I can't wait to get back to London and tell Dominic where to shove his job!