A Fortunate Change of Events
by Katelynne Perry

I hear my doorbell ring as 'CSI:Miami' is about to end. As I get up and out of my chair to answer the door, things seem a bit different all about my apartment. My light-beige walls now seem brighter and glow in a pinkish hue I am certain isn't of my own intent. About the room are mementos of a feminine nature I have never seen before.

Confused, but still cogent, I make my way to the door. The chain in the lock channel keeps the door from opening all the way and I peep out into the hallway. No one is there so I proceed back to my chair which is festooned in a heavily floral pattern. I am confused but I turn my ass toward it and plop back down.

“Katelynne!” I hear someone call from outside my apartment building. “Katelynne Perry!”

I live on the second floor so I proceed to the window to ascertain the ruckus. I look down to the sidewalk and see a black-haired woman yelling toward my window. “Katelynne! Katelynne Perry, let me in your apartment or else!”

I am really starting to look around now. Did I get a new neighbor named 'Katelynne'? Perhaps I should introduce myself to her before she thinks me rude. I plop back into my chair and this time I hear a thunderous wrap on my door. “Katelynne, let me in! Are you alright, sweetie?”

What is she yelling into my apartment to have Katelynne let her in. Who is Katelynne?

I get up and start for the door to ask why she's yelling for a woman in my apartment named 'Katelynne'. I pass a mirror and glancing toward it, I see a woman staring back at me. I nearly jump out of my skin. I abandon my trek to the door and gaze into the mirror.

I blink my eyes in unison with the woman. I wave and she waves back. I place my hands to my chest and her hands travel to her breasts. I reach further down my body and I panic.

“Jesus Freaking Christ! Where's my penis?”

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I don't know how long it is before I quit crying but somehow the woman on the street is in my apartment. I am hysterical and she senses my panic.

“Honey, what's the matter?” She consoles me. “You can tell me, I'm your mother.”

“I don't have a penis,” I mumble through muffled tears. “I don't have my goddamned penis anymore.”

“No,” she giggles. “You don't.”

I thought I would be irate, but I'm not. I try to feel rage, but I don't.

“What am I supposed to do?” I break down again and fall into her arms. “I don't understand. I must have done something really bad for God to do this to me.”

The woman whispers into my ear, “I don't understand, honey. God's made you a very beautiful woman. You have a wonderful fiance who loves you very much. You'll be married to one of the richest men in our city. You have a thriving business. How can you say you did anything really bad?”

“He took away my penis.” I heard what she has just told me, bu I don't want to believe. I just cry and mumble, “What's a guy supposed to do without his penis?”

I black out in her arms into somewhat restful sleep.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

“Katelynne, honey! You've been asleep for almost three-hours. Are you okay, sweetie?”

I rummaged through my closet and put on a powder blue tee-shirt and a pair of denim short shorts. My breasts are poking at the material of the tee and my nipples are excitedly erect.

“I am, momma.”

“You had me worried,” she says and I'm still not sure if she's really my mother or if this is some kind of twisted plot someone is planning me.

“You kept saying that you miss your penis, honey. What's that all about?”

I try to think of some convincing way to tell her that yesterday I was a man. She seems a bit like my mother, but she is happier now.

I've had time to examine myself in the bathroom and I am not really bad-looking for a girl. I'm probably about five-foot six, my hair is raven black and reaches to the middle of my back. My eyes are ice-blue. I weighed myself and I'm one-hundred-four pounds. Yesterday, if we are going by those things now, I was six-foot three, same black hair and ice-blue eyes but I weighed almost two-hundred pounds.

“Momma,” I say, “I'm sorry for scaring you today. I just haven't been myself lately.”

“That's okay, Katie. I love you. Your daddy would have been proud of you.”

Yesterday, when everything was normal, my father was still alive. I want to know what happened but I don't know how to bring about the topic. This woman does seem like my mother but her hair is black and her skin is alabaster. My 'other mother' was blonde and had a golden tan. Both have the same voice and soothing manner.

“Momma?”

“Yes, Katelynne?”

“I'm having one of those days when things seem strange. I feel so different.”

“Honey, you're beautiful. You've always been a lovely, beautiful girl.”

I take my chances and blurt out, “How's Johnny?”

“He's fine, dear. He's trying to get leave so he can be here for your wedding. He adores you and he thinks Philip is going to be good for and to you. Your brother's proud of you, honey.”

Yesterday, Johnny had been my identical twin brother. He is in Iraq and appears to be there now even with my changes and all. We did everything brothers do together and I wonder how good a sister I'd made if this life is the real thing.

As I reminisce, momma answers my land line. She smiles and says that Philippe wants to speak to me. I take the phone from her and talk, for my first time, to the man with whom I will soon be married. Momma keeps doting on how he came over here to America, met and fell madly in love with me. She's going to miss us, she says, when we move to France after the wedding.

“Katelynne, miel, I'm caught at the airport. Pouvons-nous repondre au... sorry, miel, can we meet at the restaurant?”

Philippe has a romantic French accent and I cannot wait to see how it and the photos I have seen of him come into synch.

“Sure, honey,” I say. “You know me and directions. Tell me the address again so I can Google it.”

He tells me where to meet him, starts talking baby talk to me and makes kissing sounds into the phone. I start giggling then do something I didn't think I could do, I purred into the phone. He makes like he's a lion roaring and I giggle again.

“Je t'aime, Katelynne, miel,” he says.

“Me, too, my Phillie-Willie,” I say, hoping that's what we do when we're being amorous.

“Je dois y aller, de l'amour,“ he says as I kick myself for not paying more attention in high school French classes. “I have to go, miel. I love you, Katelynne. See you at seven.”

“Okay, my hunky Frenchman. My heart is yours, always.” I grimace because I've never really said that to another man before, let alone someone who might not understand me.

Momma winks at me and we both giggle.

“He loves you a lot, Katie. He reminds me a lot of your daddy.”

“He does and I miss Daddy a lot,” I say as my eyes moisten.

“He loved you more than life, sweetheart.”

“Me too, Momma. By the way, I love you more than I can say, Momma!”

My mother and I talk for a while until she says we have to go to our salon appointments. I ask her to excuse me while I use the potty and take a shower and she says she'll be here. I really feel like I'm connecting with her. She's not much different than the Momma I know and love.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I thoroughly enjoy the salon experience. I have never been so pampered as a guy and it really feels good. I bond with my mother and she treats me as the daughter I guess that I really am. My real mother and I had been close and I wonder if she misses me.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I Googled the address and directions to where I am to meet my fiance. I familiarize myself with everything, as is my usual practice, and finish dressing. Although I have never applied makeup and such, I have no problem touching up what the salon had accomplished earlier. I guess it's stored memory or some such thing, but I really think I look good.

I am wearing the outfit Philippe suggested on the phone earlier. I'm wearing a little black dress that shows off my cleavage and my legs in almost equal proportions. I've never worn garters before but I managed to get the nylons on and fastened without ripping them to shreds.

I stumble a bit when I put on my heels, but I reason that I do this often in this version of my life. Most girls, I believe, have trouble teetering on stiletto heels and wear them mainly to please their men. It is at this point that I realize I have never seen Philip except in the pictures that are near my bed. I hope I don't disappoint him because his photos don't disappoint me.

Philippe and I don't live together, it seems, in this life. I have an apartment and he has his. I Googled this information too. I know we are getting together tonight for a “date” but I don't know how far we will go at it's culmination. Being a guy, of course, I have never had intercourse as a woman. I have had plenty of lady friends, but never a boyfriend and never, ever would agree on anal sex or any kind of play around my anus.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I have only ridden in my mother's car since my adaptation into femininity and I have no idea what my car is like here. In my guy life I drive a silver 2011 Toyota Camry and believe it to be a very good automobile. I proceed to the garage of our apartments and find a Matador Red Lexus IS Convertible. It is a pleasure to drive and before I know it I am at the restaurant.

I give the valet my keys and I am greeted by Philip who wraps me in his arms. He smells wonderful and I have to admit that I like being held by him. Tell me that yesterday and I would have bloodied your nose.

Philippe kisses me and I melt. This is something I didn't expect either. I never considered myself to be a gay man and I'd never kissed another man, as a man, but Philippe's lips are luscious and taste yummy.

We go inside the restaurant, check our coats and the valet seats us. I have never had anyone pull my seat out for me as I set down, but the valet does it now and I really like it. Philippe hands me the menu, I tell him what I like and he orders for both of us. He also asks the waiter to bring us a bottle of his best white wine. It is luscious.

We eat and talk and enjoy each others' company. I feel like I've been with Philippe all my life and he makes me feel really nice about myself. It's not that I'd ever needed anyone to survive before but I feel as if I were to lose this man, I would be miserable.

We enjoy our desert and Philip take me to the beach. We walk along the shore in the moonlight. His brown eyes sparkle and he tells me I am beautiful. I start to believe him as we talk about things I thought I knew nothing about. I don't want the night to end.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I invite Philippe to stay with me tonight and he smiles. He pours us a drink and we get comfortable. He has a drawer of his things in my bedroom and he changes into some silk pajamas. I change into a teddy and he tells me I am the most beautiful woman in the universe. I smile, we touch and he kisses me really slow and definitely romantically.

His kisses turn into petting and I begin to purr. I have never been touched so sensually by anyone and I cannot get enough of it. I pull Philippe closer to me and I begin to play with his tongue with mine. I have always enjoyed doing this with the girls I knew but it is different being the girl this time. If this is a dream, I pray to God that it will never end.

Philippe moves from my mouth to my neck. His tongue plays with the little hairs that have begun to raise up on my neck. Once he has covered every inch possible he proceeds down to my cleavage and buries himself there. His tongue dances between my breasts and he makes me start to giggle.

Soon he clenches the fasteners of my teddy in his teeth and bites each one off so that I am soon freed from the silk confines. My breasts are exposed and he plays with my nipples both with his tongue and his teeth. He nibbles at my aureola and I nearly lactate. He lingers and I spurt milk which he licks up hungrily.

Interspersed with his play he tells me I am the most gorgeous creature God has created. I purr and feel the growth of his penis. He is definitely wanting me. He begins his way down my torso. My ribcage and belly are ravished gleefully and he finally makes it to my g-string. I am afraid that the perspiration of my joy will sour our love play but he says I taste like a goddess. I smile and kiss his forehead.

Philippe grasps at my garment with his fingers, works the fabric down my legs and flings my panties on the floor. He kisses my belly and works his way downward. I feel his tongue slide into and out of my vagina. I have never experienced this feeling before and I can only say that it is sheer ecstasy. I am so alive and I beg for more as he gives it to me willingly.

Philippe stops, works his way down to my feet and kisses his way up both of my legs until I feel like I am about to explode. I have definitely never felt this feeling and I hope I do not pass out. My lover smiles and places his penis into my vagina. I do not make him wear protection and he is grateful.

He thrusts himself into my pussy and the friction is both unbearable and desirable. I want him to stop but I want him to go on forever. As I explode into a glorious orgasm, he does too. We embrace and he tells me I am wonderful.

I want him to do it again but he falls asleep. I lay beside him on my side admiring my darling, beautiful fiance. I lay my head on his chest and sleep.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I wake up and Philippe is not beside me. I panic but inhale a heavenly aroma. He made me breakfast in bed!

“Merci beaucoup mon amour,“ I say in happily.

“Ai-je jamais dit que Je t'aime, Katelynne?“

“Oui, ma cherie,” I giggle, “Everyday, my love! And I adore you and you being French!”

I am having a hard time remembering how I used to be as a guy now. Today I feel like a princess. If I had been told that I would be engaged to a gorgeous man who loves me forever just two days ago, I would have told you how stupid you sound. Now, however, I am the happiest girl around.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I hear my doorbell ring as 'CSI:Miami' is about to end. As I get up and out of my chair to answer the door, things are happy and bright all about my apartment. My pink-hued walls suit me and I'm certain it's of my own intent. About the room are mementos of a feminine nature I have grown to love.

“Katelynne!” I hear my mother call from outside my apartment building. “Katelynne Perry!”

I let her in and she has a garment bag draped over her arm.

“Katelynne! Katelynne Elizabeth Perry, I love you.”

“I love you too, Momma!”

“Come, dear. We've got to try on your wedding dress! We've got a wedding to get ready! We've got to plan your move to Paris!”

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

I don't miss my penis, and thank you God for playing your tricks on me. I'm the happiest girl in the world.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

And we all lived happily ever after!

Does that sound too hokey?

Well, if it does, it doesn't make it any less true.