Chapter 1

I didn’t mean to end up this way. It just wasn’t in my thinking at all. Somehow, every step along the way seemed the right thing to do. There was a point where I could have called a stop to things, but I was, to the core of my being, a ‘Union Man’, and the Union needed me.

I suppose I had better start at the beginning. I was born on a cold winters day in 1965. As such, the best of the music scene had passed before I could appreciate it. I did have a lot of my parents records to listen to. In that, I didn’t have a choice, as they liked to play them instead of watching the television. I was christened Jensen Clark Goodfellow, and everyone called me Jen. I didn’t mind, but it was in high school that it became a name I wanted to change. By the time I started working, it was the only way I was known, to pretty well everyone.

I started work in an engineering company. My best results, at school, had been in English and maths, mainly geometry. This stood me in good stead as a lot of engineering is geometry. I was apprenticed as a fitter, but ended up specialising in welding, both gas and arc. As I progressed, I became skilled in the inert gas/arc welding that was becoming the normal and ended up getting a certificate as a specialist pressure vessel welder.

If you don’t know, this often means being inside small spaces, often with a breathing apparatus, a welding gun and someone outside to pull you out in case things went wrong. The best money was in working on drilling rigs, so I gravitated to Scotland to work. To say that I earned silly money was not far from the truth. I didn’t gamble and I kept putting any extra away, aiming at a point where I could come back on shore and get away from the dangers of rig life.

It was then that I met my wife, Carol, while I was working in a big yard that produced large diameter piping. She was a site nurse in the sick room. That was a good job, for me, as I was small enough to be comfortable inside a pipe, welding overhead. All these welds were X-Rayed and very few of mine failed.

By the time I was in my mid-thirties, we had two daughters, a nice house, and a shed with my project car in it. Being called Jensen, I had always lusted after one, and ended up with a 1970 Interceptor that needed a bit of work. It was also during this time that I started on the track that ended up to where I am today.

To work as a pressure vessel welder for underwater pipes, I had to join a Union early in my career. There were a few to choose from, but most were too militant for my taste, so I joined the National Union of Marine Boilermakers. Over a couple of years, I was chosen, by my fellow workers, to be their site organiser, and, following on from that, I ended up as the Union Representative, going to meetings with management. I wasn’t arrogant and pushy, so was able to discuss things politely in the management meetings, often coming to a result that everyone could live with.

This brought me to the attention of the Union Head Office, and I was invited to join the Union Management Team, as a trouble-shooter to try and keep everyone working happily. I resigned from my job as a welder and started a job as an office worker. This meant that we had to relocate south, something Carol wasn’t happy about, at first, but the first mild winter helped enormously. We got a lovely house in the Midlands, with a garage big enough for the Jensen to be close at hand, as well as a company car, which left our own little car for Carol to use. The children weren’t happy at saying goodbye to their friends, but we made the move before they started school, so they ended up making a lot of new friends.

My job took me away from home a lot, visiting our Union members at their workplaces and talking to their managers. I did well, we lived well, and I settled into a career. I only had one problem, and that was when they modernised the job descriptions to reflect a gentler face of the Union. I became the Business Unification Manager, with my main aim keeping everyone happy. It was a good job that my business card had my title in full, as it would have read N.U.M.B B.U.M. otherwise. It also had me named as Jen Goodfellow.

I got the Jensen fixed and on the road. It was a joy to drive but horribly expensive to run. I remembered the advert that I saw, which said ‘At 160 miles an hour, the only sound you can hear is a well-known Italian sports car trying to keep up.’ Or something like that. We would sometimes go out to the coast, with the kids, and it was great to have the three people I love, with me in the car I adored.

It was late spring, and I was on an urgent trip to my old workplace in Scotland when things started changing my life. While I was off, sorting out a demarcation dispute, the Union Leader went to see a new workplace in Hull, on the east coast. When I got back to the Head Office, the following Monday, I was called in for a meeting. At this meeting, Cyril, the Leader, laid things on the line.

“Jen, Brother, we have a problem. We have a worksite that wants to employ women to work in their pipes and vessels, but they are finding it hard to recruit any. I have spoken to the Chairperson of their Board, a Janet Harrison, who would be happy to make the site a single Union site, if we can come up with some of our members who can fit the bill. We have another meeting with her in ten days’ time, when we will be expected to have an answer for her.”

“So, Cyril, what do you want me to do?”

“I’ve told her that we have someone who can show her the sort of person we can organise. It’s up to you, but I think that you’re just the gal for the job.”

“What do you mean, gal?”

“Exactly that, Jen. You’re small enough to be the right size as a woman, you’re a qualified X-Ray Inspection welder. You can put on a nice voice and charm her and her Board. Go home and see what Carol thinks and put together a list of our female members who would be happy to move. They’re offering a relocation package so there shouldn’t be too much problem. They are paying over the odds and their likelihood for expansion is very good. It could be a shining example of our Union working for everyone’s benefit.”

“So, you want me to front up, looking like a woman welder, and pass myself as a qualified woman.”

“That’s right. Your certification is as Jen Goodfellow, and your cards show you as Jen, as do our own personnel records. You’re already halfway there. There’s a bonus in it for you if you can pull it off. It will be just this meeting, and, maybe a few more when you take the girls there to be checked out. Then you can go back to the way you are. If the site works seamlessly, you may never have to visit it again.”

I told him that he was crazy, and he laughed. I wasn’t happy but agreed to talk to Carol about it. A bonus would be appreciated. At home, that evening, I told her what I had been asked.

“So, they want you to be Jenny for some meetings, and show that a woman can be a qualified welder? Cyril is right, my darling. I think that, with a bit of work, you would make a good-looking woman. You’re already a good height, you have many ways about you that are considered womanly, from your easy ways of befriending anyone you meet to the way you can discuss problems without getting arrogant. Some time with my friend in her salon, and some extra padding, and I think Jenny would be ready to face the world. Did Cyril say there was some money to make this all happen. It won’t be cheap to do it properly.”

“I’ll ask him, tomorrow. Do you really think that I can do it. Do you mind? What are the girls going to think when they see their Dad in a dress?”

We went to the girl’s room, where they were watching cartoons.

“Girls, your Daddy has been asked to go under cover by the Union to show a client that the Union is able to supply women welders. They want your Daddy to pretend that he’s a woman for a while. What do you think?”

They took it all as if it happened every day. To them, it was no worse than Bugs Bunny in a dress to fool Elmer Fudd. They promised not to laugh and even said that having two Mummy’s would set them above their friends at school.

The next day I asked Cyril if there were funds for the transformation. He told me that there was, and it wouldn’t change the bonus when things went well. I rang Carol and told her to set things in motion, then spent the rest of the day leaving messages for all of the women on our books, asking them if they would be interested in a move to the east coast, in a site which would be predominantly female, with a relocation package. The office would take their calls for me to go through and reply when I got back to my desk.

So, Tuesday afternoon I left early, wondering what the next few days would bring. Carol began the procedure that evening, with me having to shower before going to bed, and washing my hair with a new type of product. When I finished, my hair was much bouncier than before. I had always kept it on the long side, to emulate the pop stars of the day. When I came out of the shower, Carol had replaced my old robe with a new one, as well as exchanging my pyjamas with a slinky nightie. I opened the bathroom door and asked what was going on.

“You’re starting the experiment, as of now, my darling. I expect you to be wearing the nightie from now on, until you go back to your old self. There’s some powder on the shelf for you to dust on your body. My word, your hair looks great. I haven’t asked you to shave yet, they’ll work on that at the salon, tomorrow.”

That night, we cuddled together, both in our nighties. It was so erotic that we both had the best orgasms in ages. Since the girls, our lovemaking had become quite mundane. That night was electric. I had been told that it took stepping out of your comfort zone to change things, and that night took us both into a totally new zone. Whether it was comfortable would lie in the future.

The next morning, after breakfast, we left the house to take the girls to school. I was in a track suit and runners, without a morning shave. When I looked in the mirror, my cleaned hair gave me a bit of a girly look, offset by the shadow on my chin.

At the salon, I was assured that this was something they did frequently, taken to a private room, and measured. They opened a box with falsies in and decided which ones would be the right ones to balance my frame, then measured me, again, while I held them in place. The measurements were given to Carol, who went off with the Union credit card I had been given to use, as well as a list of the places she needed to go to and get the specialist items.

After that, I was subjected to torture, embarrassment, pain, and suffering. I have to admit that my eyes watered during the waxing, especially in my armpits and around the pubes. They also waxed my face. It was amazing that afterwards it was so nice to be coated in cooling creams. I had a session where I was worked on, with a new face created from a pile of tubes, powders, and brushes. One girl worked on my fingernails, and I wondered how I was going to do anything with the talons she had attached. The last thing was having my ears pierced. I was told that it was the one thing that screamed ‘girl’. I was relaxing, in a towelling robe, when Carol came back with some bags.

“Well, hello to you, Jenny. You look amazing, girl. Just wait until we get you dolled up in the things that I have bought for you.”

We were left alone, as she dressed me. Starting with a pair of briefs which held my penis in captivity, while enlarging my bum profile. The bra was no great problem, having seen her put one on for years. The only difference was learning how to do it with my own breasts weighing me down. Then it was a corset that pulled my waist in and had the attachments for stockings. That, alone, was enough to make me breathless – it was such an erotic feeling on my legs.

I had to put on a slip, and then a dress. Finally, I was told to sit – but do it properly – and put the shoes on. They were, thankfully, only a low heel, wide enough to give me confidence. There was a full-length mirror on the wall, and, when I looked at myself, it was like looking at the sister I never had. Carol came and stood beside me, and we looked just like a couple of women. I was staggered.

“This can’t be that easy! Surely there has to be more than this?”

“Jenny, sweet thing, you have just spoken to me with a softer voice. If I didn’t know that my Jen was in there, I’d see you as a woman. I can’t imagine why we never saw this side of you before. Just five hours in a salon, and some shapewear, and you are totally believable. All we need to do now is hone your movements, slow down your walking, shorten your stride and get your arms moving properly, and you’ll be a sure thing come that meeting. Until then, my love, you will have to remain in character until after the meeting. It’s going to be a fun few days, I can tell you!”

Before we left the room, she adorned me with costume jewellery, a necklace, bangle, and rings. I had never worn a ring before, and it felt odd. When we went out, she paid the bill with the credit card and put it into a handbag, also containing a number of other things, and handed it to me.

“Remember, Jenny, us girls don’t have pockets, usually, so you’re going to have to get used to carrying this.”

The salon gave me a bag containing all of the products they had used on me, as well as a tape of how to use them. Carol’s friend took a picture of the new me for her scrapbook, then gave me a hug.

“I knew it when you walked in, this morning. You make a great woman, Jen. Work on your posture and mannerisms and you’ll want to stay this way long after you need to.”

On the way to where Carol had parked the car, she commented on my posture and walk, and I adjusted until she was happy. I was sure she had parked a long way from the salon in order for this lesson to be forced on me. As we passed other shops, I could see my reflection and it was almost un-nerving to see this woman walking by. At the car, there was another lesson in how you get into one, in a dress, without flashing your stocking tops. I had been in a bit of a fog since leaving the salon. It was only when Carol pulled away from the curb that I saw all of the other people around. People who had seen me parading along the street in a dress.

Carol was intent on getting me used to meeting others as Jenny, her sister-in-law. She drove us to a large shopping complex, where we went in, straight to the food court for a lunch. It took a while, but I started to truly believe that the person that everyone saw was a woman. The guy who sold us our fish and chips called us both ‘love’ and smiled at me, while checking out my chest.

After our meal, we both visited the ladies toilet, which nearly made me want to dig my heels in. Carol held my hand as she guided me in and told me to sit in the cubicle, making sure that I pointed my willy at the water, to make it sound right, and to wipe with paper, not just shake it. We checked out our lipstick before going out to the shops. Then we gave the Union credit card another hammering, starting with more underwear and nighties, some skirts, and tops, as well as a couple of pairs of slacks. We picked out a couple of skirt suits and blouses for the office. Then it was onto a shoe store for some daytime office shoes and some boots. When I commented that I would be back as my old self by winter, I was shushed, Carol telling me that we didn’t know if I would be needed to visit the site then.

On the way home, we stopped at a safety and workwear store, for me to get some work boots, a set of orange coveralls in my new size, and a new hardhat, with the store adding the name ‘Jenny’ on it in stick-on letters. All the time I was speaking in a quieter voice, and got lovely service from everyone I met, even when I was dithering on what to choose. By the end of the day, I was no longer afraid of being outed, unless I made some glaring mistake.

We picked up the girls from school, Carol saying “This is your Auntie Jennifer, girls, coming to stay with us a while.” They both gave me a hug before getting in the car. At home it was as if I had always been Jenny. The girls did give me a session getting me up to date with all the things that girls are into. When it got to their bedtime, I got another hug and a cheek kiss. I just sat on the settee as Carol took them to their room, wondering about how much more contact women have with each other. As Jen, I would never be game to touch another guy, unless it was to shake hands. This was something that I was going to have to take on board. It wouldn’t do to shy away from others, as that would be a sure signal that I wasn’t who I looked like.

That night, I was groomed in the art of removing make-up before going to bed. However, before that, Carol came and snuggled up to me on the settee and we kissed, lipstick to lipstick while we watched the tape of applying make-up. Now, that was a strange experience, I must say! That night, the nighties weaved their magic again. I made a special effort not to jab Carol with my new nails. I was getting to enjoy this new way in our relationship, and I think that Carol was getting a kick out of it as well.

The alarm was set to just after dawn on Thursday. It would give me time to get ready to go into the office, most of that time taken up with having to put my own make-up on, with Carol giving advice. At breakfast, the girls commented on how professional I looked. Carol took them off to school, while I made sure that my bag now contained all of my cards, money, and things, now carried in a new purse we had bought. I put my new working gear in the back of the company car, and then went into the office, wondering about how they would accept me. Would they all dissolve into laughter? I wasn’t sure if Cyril had any idea what he was putting me through.

I parked in the usual spot, picked up my handbag and swivelled out of the car. This was slowly becoming second nature. I made my way into the building and up in the lift to our floor. The office wasn’t huge, Just Cyril, Tom (the Union Treasurer), Alf (the Union Secretary), and then me and Bernice, looking after the membership. We didn’t have a receptionist, just a couple of bellpushes with names beside them. The opening of the office door made a buzzer sound in the other offices. I opened the door to the office that Bernice and I shared.

“Can I help you, miss? The modelling agency is on the floor above.”

“Bernice, my girl, that is so nice to hear. You don’t know how much better that makes me feel.”

“My God! Jen, you look fabulous! Cyril told me that he was asking you to look like a woman welder for a meeting, but this is amazing!”

She stood and came to give me a hug. I gave her one back, a first for us both.

“How are those messages to our other women going? I would like to have an idea of how many we will have available when we get to meet.”

“I’ve had a couple call me back, one even telling me that there are other girls on her site who would jump unions if we had an all-girl site for them. I’m told that it’s like being a permanent target for hands on some of the sites.”

I went and sat at my desk, putting my bag on the floor, just as I had seen Bernice do so. We went through the list again. We both had computers on our desks, but this was all before the widespread use of the internet, so were forced to use phones and mail for communication. I told Bernice that I’d stay back, tonight, and try to ring as many as I could. I knew that some would be out on rigs, but those, usually, were not quite the women that our possible client was looking for.

At one point, Alf popped his head in and gave Bernice some paperwork. He looked at me as he left but said nothing. A little later, Cyril opened the door.

“Alf said we have a temp in, Bernice. Why wasn’t I informed?”

“I see no temp, Cyril, it’s just Jen and me, getting on with our work.”

He looked at me, more closely.

“Jen, it can’t be. Wow! I wondered if we could pull the meeting off next week, but seeing you, sitting there, makes me certain that it’s going to be a success. I would have passed you in the street and not noticed you.”

I stood up.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t notice me, Cyril. I’m upset. You look at all the girls as if you are sizing them up as possible mistresses. Your wife has told me, more than once, that it costs her a fortune to stay looking young enough for you. Am I so ugly that you wouldn’t consider me? I am bereft. If I wasn’t so busy, I would run out to the girls room for a cry! You beast!”

He stood there, mouth hanging open. Bernice was trying hard to keep her laughing in check.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he spluttered.

“What you did, Cyril, dear, was to ask me to be a woman for you. The last day has been an eye-opener for me, and what you’ve gained is a feminist. Now, hurry back to your office and let us girls get on with our work. We have our members to look after and a group of other girls to be willing to move to the new site when we get the paperwork signed.”

He just nodded and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Bernice was spluttering, trying to keep it quiet, as she stood and came to me, to envelope me in a big hug.

“Thank you, Jenny. That was a tour de force that put him in his place. There are three men in this place who have always acted like I’m just a lowly woman. You’ve never treated me like that, but now you’re really one of us. He’ll act polite, for a while. It will be interesting to see how long that lasts. How is Carol taking this?”

“I think she is enjoying it. She took me shopping for lingerie yesterday and we both wear our nighties to bed. The girls call me Aunt Jenny and are really good with it, so far. I’ve found out that you can get away with anything, as long as you allow guys to look at your chest.”

“Jenny, you’re just fabulous. I meet up with the staff from the agency, upstairs, for lunch. How about you join us. It will be an interesting half an hour; I can tell you.”

Over the rest of the morning, we worked as usual, but with Tom and Alf dropping in to ask questions and check me out. When I needed to pee, Bernice gave me the key to the toilet on this floor and told me to take my bag with me to freshen up my lipstick. I have to say that it was much cleaner than the men’s toilet, next door. When it got to lunch, she put her head into Alf’s office and told him that we were going for lunch.

On the ground floor of the office block, there were some shops and a couple of food outlets. She led me to one that served light lunches and we joined a group of women. I was introduced as Jennifer, and the others all said hello to me. Lunch was mainly a salad, with cups of tea, and a cream cake, afterwards, to even up the calory score. We ate and we chatted, and it was a really lovely experience. I was asked which salon I went to, and where I got my blouse. I commented on the beautiful things that they were wearing and was told that it was expected when you work in a modelling agency.

It was when we stood, to go back to work, that one of the women, Tracy, stood and gave me a hug.

“Jenny, if you’re staying late, any time, come upstairs and I’ll organise a photo shoot. We’re always on the lookout for good, strong, women that are a little older. Especially ones as photogenic as you.”

“Thank you for that, Tracy. I do have to work back, this evening, to make some phone calls. Are you there around seven? I would love to see how an agency looks. It always sounds so fabulous and chic.”

“I’ll expect you then, Jenny. You’ll see that it’s just a business, like any other.”

That afternoon passed quickly, with me phoning some of the sites which were having problems, and promising to visit, later next week. One of the guys I was speaking to asked me if I was new to the Union office. It was then that I realised that I was using my feminine voice all the time.

“No, Jim. I’m not new. I’ll see you, next week, and I’ll tell you about it.”

As I said that, I realised that I hadn’t told him who I really was, and that I had no idea if it was going to be Jen, or Jenny, who would be explaining things when we met.

Marianne Gregory © 2024