How did this strange woman know his fondest wish was to experience, just once, being a real woman? Not just dressing in women’s clothing, but actually having all the girl parts and feelings that went with the panties and heels he so dearly loved. And best of all, being able to walk down the street in a pretty dress without everyone staring at him like he was a freak. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand ... “
“Oh, you don’t.” The expression on her face could only be described as wicked. “But you will.” And with a wave of her hand she spun around and shuffled into the apartment opposite, slamming the door hard enough to rattle windows.
Ryan ran a shaky hand through his hair. He felt like he’d just been swept up into a whirlwind and spit out the other side. In fact, he was pretty sure he needed a change of panties.
“Lord, this town is full of crazy,” he muttered. Maybe it was time for a change. Another town, maybe. On the other side of the country, preferably.
*
Light streamed in through the slats in the blinds, nudging Ryan awake. He groaned and tried to burrow under the quilt, but it was too late. There was no getting back to sleep.
He hauled himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. He lifted his nightie and ... nothing. There was nothing there.
“Oh, my god. “ He groped his crotch only to find the usual equipment wasn’t there. “What the f ... ” Wide awake, he ran for the full length mirror in the bedroom. And there, much to his horrified eyes, was a perfect set of ... lady parts.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” Ryan clapped a hand over his mouth. His voice had gone up at least two octaves. His cheeks were smooth without a sign of morning beard. His chest, however, was decidedly not smooth. He peered down the neck of his nightie. “D cups!”
He stared in the mirror for what seemed like the longest time. Horror warred with delight.
Ryan Roberts was a girl.
*
After getting over the initial shock (and figuring out how to pee sitting down), Ryan decided it was time for a real shopping trip. Bras, panties, the whole nine yards. He had no idea how long this ... whatever it was, was going to last, but he was damn well going to make the most of it.
She. She was damn well going to make the most of it.
Almost giddy with glee, Ryan went and knocked on her neighbor’s door. The door flew open to reveal the short, round blond woman from the night before, still dressed in her pink fuzzy robe, cupcake in one had.
“Whaddya want?” the blond said around a mouth full of cupcake. Pink to match her robe.
“What did you do to me?” Ryan clasped her hands in front of her breasts in a decidedly feminine manner.
The blonde peered at Ryan through narrowed blue eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m your next door neighbor. You know, from last night? Ryan Roberts. Well,” Ryan waved a hand at her new body. “Rayanne, now. What did you do?”
The blonde snorted. “I turned you into a woman, obviously.”
“But how?”
“I’m Branwen.”
Rayanne just stared at her blankly. “So?”
Branwen rolled her eyes. “I’m a goddess, obviously. I was sick and tired of your whining so I gave you what you want.”
Rayanne welled up. “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much! You don’t know what a blessing this is.”
A look crossed Branwen’s face. A look that gave Rayanne sudden pause. “Oh, this isn’t a blessing,” the goddess said. “Not at all.”
*
Rayanne had emailed in sick and spent the entire morning shopping. It had been beyond wonderful. Nobody stared at her. Nobody laughed at her. Clothes and shoes and pretty lingerie actually fit like it was supposed to.
Even her driving license and credit cards magically had her new name and photo. It was a miracle.
She sat happily at one of the tables in Cuppa Joe sipping at an iced soya latte and admiring her newly painted cotton candy pink nails. Ah, bliss. Women just had no idea how lucky they were.
“Heya, sweet cheeks.”
Rayanne glanced up, startled as a young man plopped into the seat opposite her. The man stared pointedly down Rayanne’s blouse at her now-ample cleavage.
“Nice rack.”
“Excuse me?” Rayanne felt her cheeks pinken in fury.
“You and me should hang. Bet I could teach you a thing or two.” The young man leaned back in his chair, flexing his muscles under his too-tight t-shirt.
“Thank you, no.”
The boy’s features hardened. “Think you’re too good for me, do ya bitch?”
Rayanne had no idea what to do. As Ryan the only men who’d ever come on to her had been gay and most of them had been perfectly fine once she’d explained she was straight. If they did have a problem, well, Ryan was, after all, a straight man who was well over six feet tall with the build to match. When he said no, people listened. Even if he was a cross-dresser.
Rayanne, on the other hand, was all of 5’4” and built like a ... well, a very short Victoria’s Secret model. Rayanne was everything Ryan had often dreamed of being. Unfortunately, Rayanne was also about as intimidating as a kitten.
She glanced around for a knight in shining armor, but if anyone else had noticed what was going on, they were studiously avoiding the issue. “Not at all. It’s simply that my husband wouldn’t be too happy about me spending time with another man.”
The kid’s eyes narrowed. “You ain’t wearing a ring.”
Rayanne shrugged. “It’s being resized. I’m pregnant so I’ve been putting on a lot of weight recently ... “
“Whoa. Whoa. Pregnant? Um ... ” The young man scrambled out of his chair. “I gotta go.” And just like that he took off.
Rayanne pressed her hand to her rapidly beating heart. For just a minute she’d actually been scared. No, more than scared. Terrified. For the first time in her life she’d felt completely helpless. At the mercy of someone bigger and nastier than her. It wasn’t a nice feeling.
Was that how women felt all the time?
Rayanne shook off the negative feelings. She was going to enjoy her time as a woman however long it lasted. One asshole was not going to dampen her joy!
She quickly gathered up her shopping bags and headed out to the car. She’d go home. Dress up pretty, and hit the town. That’s what she’d do. No sense in having this new body if she couldn’t enjoy it.
As she pulled out of the mall parking lot the engine light came on. “Shit, now what?” The last thing she needed was her car breaking down. She had things to do, places to go, lingerie to wear!
Fortunately there was an auto mechanic just up the road. She’d dealt with him before. He was honest and fair, as far as auto mechanics went.
*
The mechanic frowned at the car before giving Rayanne a look that made her skin crawl. “I know this car. It belongs to Ryan Roberts. What are you doing with it?”
Rayanne flashed a smile. “I’m his cousin. Rayanne. He just let me borrow it while I’m here visiting, and I couldn’t very well bring it back broken.”
The mechanic grinned, his eyes levelled on her boobs. “No you couldn’t. Why don’t you go have a seat in the waiting room, and I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
An hour later, Rayanne stared at the bill, aghast. It was nearly double what the mechanic had charged in the past. Back when Rayanne was Ryan. She’d heard of mechanics charging women more money, but she’d never believed it before.
“This is a lot of money for such a small job ... “
The mechanic gave her the run around about how it was a lot more complicated that it seemed, etc., and so on.
Furious Rayanne paid the bill and stormed out. She knew she’d just gotten royally shafted, but what could she do? The mechanic had refused to budge and as Rayanne, she couldn’t convince him that she knew enough about cars to know when she was being played. His condescension was enough to make her see red.
“Remember,” she reminded herse
lf, “all these little inconveniences are worth being able to wear makeup and dresses and look pretty. It’s worth it.” But he couldn’t imagine how women didn’t go absolutely postal over the way men like that treated them. She’d only been a woman for a day and she swore the next man that treated her like a moron or a floozy was going to get a black eye. Or a squished set of balls. Maybe both.
*
Rayanne put the asshats firmly out of her mind as she ran her fingers over her new purchases. The lovely silks and satins of her new dresses made her feel positively giddy! She couldn’t wait to put one on and hit the town.
She held one up in the mirror. Should she wear the blue? The pink? The red?
Then the pain hit.
It hit hard and fast, twisting like a knife low in her belly. No, not a knife. A million knives. No, a hot poker. That was it. Someone had just thrust a white hot poker into her gut and churned it around.
She doubled over, holding her stomach as tears pooled in her eyes and poured down her face ruining her mascara. The pain was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Was she dying?
Rayanne hurried to the bathroom not sure if she needed to pee or throw up. Maybe both. The minute she pulled down her panties she nearly fainted.
“Oh my god, is that blood? Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m gonna die.”
Then a thought niggled its way into her panicking brain. She wasn’t going to die.
“Holy mother of ... my first period!”
Not something she’d ever dreamed she’d say, back when she was Ryan. And, frankly, she could have done without this part of being a woman. She doubled over as another stab of pain hit her.
She had nothing to deal with an emergency like this. Nothing. She needed to get to a store, fast. But how to get there without making a mess?
She jammed a wad of toilet paper into her panties, grabbed her purse, and scurried out the door. The trip to the store passed in a haze of pain. How did women do this every month?
Rayanne hurried to the feminine aisle and came to a dead stop. There were so many choices and she had no idea what to get. Another cramp hit, doubling her over.
“Shit.”
No time to waste. She grabbed one of everything, from painkillers to the world’s biggest maxi pads, and headed for the till. The girl behind the till gave her a sympathetic look.
“Damn, girl, you got it bad.”
“You have no idea.”
“Shoo,” the girl shook her head as she scanned in Rayanne’s purchases. “You better believe I do. Every month like clockwork. Have to take the day off and spend it on the couch doped up on Midol and a bottle of red wine. Works like a charm.” She waved the box marked Midol from Rayanne’s stash. “You want some wine, too? It’s on sale.”
“No, thanks. I’ve got some at home.”
Rayanne tuned out as the girl chattered away. She quickly paid for her purchases and headed back to the car. The pain was like a giant tidal wave of glass, sweeping through her gut and ripping her to shreds. She was very nearly positive she was going to die.
Back home she ripped open one of her boxes and read the instructions. “I have to stick that WHERE?”
The box of tampons went into the garbage. Old school it was.
Damn. She shifted uncomfortably. It was like wearing a freaking diaper. But what was a girl to do? Either shove a wad of cotton up where the sun don’t shine or wear a diaper. This woman thing was so not what she’d expected.
Instead of a night on the town showing off her new body and her new dresses, Rayanne spent it (between hurried trips to the bathroom) curled up on the couch doped to the gills with painkillers and vino and feeling very much like a beached whale.
By morning, she’d had enough.
She shuffled across the hall and banged on Branwen’s door. No answer. She banged harder. Still no answer.
“Branwen, god dammit, open up!”
Between one blink and the next, Rayanne found herself standing on a grassy hillside overlooking a lovely sandy beach. The morning sun was warm against her back, no doubt highlighting the rat’s nest that was her hair.
She tugged at her oversized sweatshirt, one that had been hers back when she was Ryan, painfully aware she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fortunately no one was paying any attention to her. They were all focused on the rather ample woman lounging on one of the park benches ringing the top of the hill, munching on a very large, pink frosted cupcake.
Branwen.
“Welcome to Tenby.”
Rayanne blinked. “Where?”
Branwen rolled her eyes. “Tenby. In Wales. It’s been one of my favorite vacation spots since before the damn Romans mucked things up with their religious proselytizing. Fortunately,” she beamed at her fellow sunbathers, “they still remember me a bit ‘round these parts.”
Rayanne wasn’t so sure they remembered the goddess Branwen so much as they were in complete awe of the woman currently downing cupcakes like a trucker downs steak. But she wasn’t about to burst Branwen’s bubble. “Um, Branwen, I want to thank you for giving me this … gift.”
Branwen lifted an eyebrow. “Told you. Wasn’t a gift.”
“No. Good point,” Rayanne agreed as another stabbing pain hit her belly. “Perhaps you would call it a lesson?”
Branwen leaned back with a smug smile and crossed her arms over her rather impressive chest. “And what lesson did you learn, pray tell?”
“To be careful what you wish for. That the grass isn’t always greener. Be thankful for who you are and what you’ve been given. And … ” Rayanne swallowed, “that being a woman isn’t for the faint of heart.”
Branwen’s smile widened. “Trite, but true.”
Rayanne swallowed. “And now that I’ve learned those lessons, will you please turn me back?”
“You want to go back to being a man?” Branwen’s expression turned deadly serious.
Rayanne couldn’t tell if the goddess was surprised, pleased, or pissed off. All she could do was tell the truth. “I admit the pain I’m feeling is enough to turn anyone faint hearted. But the truth is … ” she hesitated. “The truth is that while I love being able to wear women’s clothes or go shopping for lingerie without people staring at me like I’m some kind of freak, I like who I am. And I miss being … myself.”
A slow smile spread across the goddess’s face. “So it is done.” And she snapped her fingers before taking a huge bite of another cupcake.
*
Sunlight slid around the cracks in the blinds, stirring Rayanne to wakefulness. She grabbed her stomach. The pain was finally gone. She felt …
Her hand drifted lower.
Rayanne was Ryan again. He jumped out of bed and began tossing Rayanne’s clothes into a bag for charity. They’d never fit Ryan. He did, however, own a very fetching Vera Wang and he planned to wear it out tonight for drinks with some of the girls from the office. Ryan Roberts was coming out of the pink satin closet, and he was doing it in style.
For the first time in ages he felt like laughing for pure joy. “Thank you, Branwen.” He swore to himself then and there he was going to bake her a batch of homemade cupcakes every day for a month.
#
Shéa MacLeod has an obsession for glitter, fabulousness and, most of all, cupcakes.
Find more information on Shéa and her books at www.sheamacleod.wordpress.com, or follow her on Facebook and Twitter
Books by Shéa:
Sunwalker Saga:
Kissed by Darkness
Kissed by Fire
Kissed by Smoke
Dragon Wars:
Dragon Warrior
Dragon Lord
Love & Disaster
Heather Marie Adkins
Becca
“I look fat.”
I stood staring at myself in the full-length mirror. I really should have dieted a little harder in the months leading up to today, but stress does crazy things to one’s body. Things like forcing one to down a whole beer in one minute, then pol
ish off a German chocolate cake in the next. I was going to look like that eight-hundred-pound bride, only blonde and tan … and a little more crazy-eyed.
My best friend, Annree Farnstead, rolled her pale green eyes. She was sprawled against the curved back of the Venetian couch, her turquoise bridesmaid dress a vivid splash of color on the dark, floral-patterned cushions. “Becca, you couldn’t look fat if you tried.”
“Chach is going to think I’m fat.” I sighed and smoothed the satin at my waistline, then gripped the line of pudge and shook it. “I’ve never been able to do this.”
Annree heaved herself from the cushions—no easy feat with the gigantic bowling ball jutting from her abdomen—and waddled over to stand beside me. She slipped an arm around my waist and smiled as I rubbed a hand over her growing baby bump.
“You are a lovely bride, Bec. Quit freaking the hell out.”
“You shouldn’t talk like that with tiny ears around,” I admonished, turning so I could press a hand to either side of her belly. Beneath my right palm, teeny baby Glory kicked. She was strong. For the past three months, Annree had joked that her inner organs were going to be nothing but mush by the time Glory came out. A firecracker already, and she was still in the womb.
“Right, because the kid can understand the difference between ‘hell’ and ‘serendipity’.” Annree cupped my face in her hands and forced me to look her in the eye. With the sun attempting to shine through the window behind her, her auburn hair was a halo of red-gold. “Stop. It.”
I gripped both of her skinny wrists and gently peeled her hands from my face, smiling sweetly as I responded. “Mess up my make-up, and I’ll kill you.”
“I dare you.” Annree winked. She looked like a wicked pixie.
“Looks like rain,” I murmured, brushing past her. A wayward patch of blue was being replaced by dark, angry clouds.
“These shoes were not made for wading,” Annree said with a laugh. She was wearing the most ridiculous blue leather flats. I may have picked out the mid-thigh length, sweetheart dress, but I most certainly had nothing to do with those hideous shoes.
My best friend’s face transformed suddenly, her nose wrinkling and her forehead scrunching as both hands dropped to her belly.
The Eclective: The Pride Collection Page 8