Author's Note: This retcon is of the Marvel Character Black Widow. All rights are reserved to Marvel Comics. While this story contains many fetishistic tones, there isn't any actual onscreen sex involved, thus the low rating. Also, thank you ahead of time for any comments, questions, or critiques that you might leave afterward.

Chapter One

Fantasy; it’s the one thing that everyone has experienced at one time or another. For some it’s exploring a new book or the latest movie. For others it’s delving into the recesses of our own subconscious. The desire to fulfill a long wanted need or perhaps to purge the baser cravings that society deems taboo. My specific reason is to never forget why I fell in love with my wife.

Brooklyn and I met, like so many other people, at a dance club. I asked her to the floor and she responded positively only if she was able to take the lead. Considering the only thing I had going for me was my courage to take risks, I effortlessly agreed.

I’ve never been one to attract the beautiful girls. Not that I’m ugly or anything. I’m simply unassuming. Being below average in height and build usually puts me on the two a.m. list at most bars. If girls on the prowl can’t find what they want by last call then I’m usually on their arm when they leave. It’s the confidence I have that gets me as far as that.

Brooke was the one that called me for a date three days later. She was the one that asked me to marry her six months after that. We both even had matching engagement rings.

Try not to read anything into that. She was not and still isn’t domineering. It’s just the way things work in our relationship. We’re complete equals. Whatever I experience, she does as well, and vice versa. That includes our private and not-so-private lives.

“Nathanial.”

She only calls me that when I need to pay total attention to what she’s saying, just as I use her full name during these times.

I adjusted my cell, turning up the volume slightly. “I’m listening.”

“Caleb is at Derrick’s and Josie is at Wendy’s for the weekend.”

I smiled as I switched lanes, cutting off the Ford Explorer that was trying to edge me out of making my exit.

“As I recall,” I said with a touch of levity, “It’s your turn.”

Each weekend we reversed roles between top and bottom. I would fulfill a fantasy of hers and the following weekend she would consent to one of mine. It kept our love life alive through all the years.

She gave me a light laugh. “I think you’ll be happy with what I have planned.”

That left the field wide open, because Brooke was very imaginative and after sixteen years of marriage I have yet to be dissatisfied with any of her ideas.

“Any hints?”

Without any more preamble she dove to the meat of the subject. “I’ve booked you an appointment at the Red Room.”

My foot hit the brake as I decelerated down the off the freeway.

“Just me?”

“Uh-huh. I had a nice chat with Anastasia this afternoon.”

I swallowed with a large amount of difficulty. Anastasia McCullen was the owner and operator of the Red Room, a place where only the elite were able to go to satisfy any fantasy no matter how odd. They had their limits and were required to stay within the boundaries of the law, but with most of the politicians and upper ranks of the police force as clients, they were never raided.

As I said before, Brooke would do virtually anything, fantasy-wise. However, there was one part she had difficulty in accepting with the same vigor as the rest of our sexual relationship. In this area alone she allowed Anastasia and a chosen few at the Red Room to step in and fulfill that part of me which she could not. Per our agreement, what went on during these sessions stayed strictly private and she never showed any desire of wanting to know, except to know that I was satisfied.

“You… uh, called her?”

“No, actually Ana called me.”

That was unheard of. The one and only time they had spoken was when she went with me to the initial interview. She wanted Anastasia to know that I was being supported, that everything was above board and approved.

“We spoke at length, Nathanial.” Her tone was calm and generally good, so I didn’t think this was an ambush. Besides, I didn’t have anything to hide.

“I thought you didn’t want to know about what goes on there.”

I could almost see Brooke shaking her head. “Some of it was in general terms, love. It was more about bringing me into the fold in order to see what I was missing.”

With a sigh, I took a left under the freeway and came to a stop at the red light.

“So…” I prompted.

“Your session is in thirty minutes. When you’re finished, come home to me as is.”

Within a blink my mouth opened as I was unsure what to say. “You’re… you…”

“I think it’s time to put aside my reservations, Nathanial. Oh, and promise me one thing, love.”

I swallowed and nodded even though she couldn’t see. “What’s that?”

“Have fun tonight knowing that I approve of whatever you choose to do. I think it will open up my eyes to new experiences and you know how much I love new things.”

The line went dead with that curious statement.

After completing the U-turn, I wondered why Brooke had changed her mind after all this time. When we first got married I confessed my desire to crossdress on occasion. You might think this was a bold move on my part, but after facing a number of her fantasies I thought it was rather tame. I’d been the bottom several times and had already experienced what most people would call the feminine side of sexual intercourse. The only thing that was missing was the actual clothing involved.

Brooke expressed no interest whatsoever in seeing me in women’s clothes, but she didn’t have a problem with me doing it on my own. After a few months she felt bad for me and eventually acquiesced to involving a professional. Thus the Red Room entered the picture.

~O~

The Hyatt Regency Downtown was my destination and I arrived with five minutes to spare. After inserting my pass card at the elevator I hit the call button and adjusted my tie. The thought that two very important women in my life were scheming behind my back was worrying. Well, it wasn’t exactly behind my back since Brooke told me after they had their conversation. I also didn’t know if scheming was the proper word to use either, since I really didn’t know what they talked about, but still, it sounded good.

Once the car arrived I pulled my card out and entered the elevator to repeat the process, only pushing the One, Five, Seventeen, and Sixteen buttons simultaneously. Anastasia took security at the Red Room very seriously. After I felt the elevator engage and drop underground, I double-checked my appearance in the reflective stainless steel of the doors. It’s a habit I’d gotten into over the last four months, always having to look my best.

The requisite Ding! Sounded when I arrived three levels below the ground floor and the doors opened to a standard reception area.

“Mr. Romanoff; right on time as always.”

I gave the receptionist a perfunctory smile. “Hello, Gail.”

She stood and motioned to the side, as she always did for any of my regular appointments. I followed along as she swiped her keycard and opened the security door before escorting me to Room Thirteen. Except we didn’t go to Room Thirteen; instead she stopped at Room Two.

Before I even had a chance to raise an objection, Gail smiled at me.

“Miss McCullen has upgraded your membership. This will be your new preparation room.”

“Upgrade? I didn’t…”

“Yes, sir. Your regular handlers, Maggie and Stephanie will be assisting you, as always, but Miss McCullen has added Candi as your new preparation specialist.”

Somewhere along the line I started feeling like I was being shuttled along.

“But…”

“I was told to tell you that the Interlude you will be experiencing tonight has been specifically chosen by your wife, with your permission, of course.”

“My w--, uh… sure.”

She grinned brightly. “Wonderful. Miss McCullen will be very pleased. Now, I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of your handlers. Have a wonderful Interlude, Mr. Romanoff.”

~O~

I felt quite different as I walked down the hall into a portion of the club that I’d never been before, led by Candi the preparation specialist. Her title barely scratched the surface of what she was capable of doing.

When I entered my preparation room, she took charge of me, directing Maggie and Stephanie like a military officer. Within a minute I was stripped down and showered, then returned to the room for special attention of their supervisor.

Candi applied silicone forms to my hips and butt, not to mention my chest as well. Then came the layers of latex. First it was a purple body suit that covered everything but my hands and head. After that there was the industrial strength waist cincher in black, the similarly colored stockings that attached to the cincher via six garter straps, the matching knee boots with thin silver five inch spikes for heels, and lastly the black opera gloves that almost made it the entire length of my arms.

I felt like a latex wet dream. The pressure of the constricting material, layered as it was, was enormous. I remember thinking, as Maggie was applying my makeup and Stephanie was securing the auburn wig that everything seemed to be made of top quality material. While I wasn’t a cheapskate, I wasn’t one to drop thousands of dollars on one outfit for an hour or two of playtime once or twice a month. Whatever Brooke and Anastasia had in store for me made me nervous.

The clicking of my new heels echoed slightly, even on the thin carpeted floors, and I was enjoying the experience until we came to a stop at an ornate oak-colored door.

Candi knocked and then waved her key card at the sensor beside the door until I heard the click of the lock disengaging.

Normally, I would meet Anastasia in my Interlude room. I know it sounds odd for the owner to give me special treatment, but I was one of the very first customers upon the Red Room’s opening. She was one of three girls that took care of the clients and I haven’t ever thought to ask for anyone but her since that day.

“Have a wonderful Interlude, Natasha,” Candi said to me with a bright smile.

Adjusting the voice I had trained for years, I gave her a single nod. “Tank you for your vonderful vork, Candi.”

It wasn’t the best Russian accent, nothing like a native would speak, but I tried my best to become Natasha when I was in feminine mode. I’d even gone so far as to build up a semi-believable history that I would delve into, taking on the persona whenever I changed.

Natasha Romanoff was born February 29, 1992, making me twenty years old while in character. Granted it had been well over a decade since I’d been twenty, but Natasha never aged, or if she did then she did so at a much slower rate than the average person out there. Her city of origin was Volgograd, Russia, formally Stalingrad. The stereotype of Russian women having smoky sensual voices made it easier to pass my voice off as exotic rather than masculine sounding.

It was rumored that Natasha was related to the last Czar of Russia, but that claim had never been proven. She was trained from early childhood to be a ballerina, but her parents chose to immigrate to America instead of letting their only child pursue her dream. The years went on and in an act of defiance, Natasha dropped out of collage to become a high priced fetish prostitute.

The history was amusingly cliché, I know, but once Natasha was born within me I never had the heart to change her significantly. There would be little details I added over the years, like learning multiple languages or training to be an international spy selling her abilities to the highest bidder, but in the end she was still trying to punish her family for taking away her dream.

I like irony, you see. Instead of punishing her family by becoming a prostitute, she was punishing herself.

The door opened and standing beside the desk sporting a relaxed smile was Anastasia, and I was somewhat shocked to see that she was dressed exactly like me.

“Natasha, darling, you look lovely,” Anastasia said as she crossed the floor and took me in a brief hug, while kissing my both my cheeks.

“So do you, Ana.” Waving my hand at her, I said, “Is this your idea or Brooke’s?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “A bit of both. Come and sit. I’ve prepared a drink for us and I’d like to take the time to bring you up to speed on an idea I had before we begin your Interlude.”

I sat at the side table, mirroring every movement Anastasia made. She crossed her left leg over her right at the knee and I did so right over left. It was the one way I practiced my feminine movements. There were times I couldn’t mirror everything she did, or else I’d look like an idiot, but I incorporated her gestures when I spoke or moved about the room so as to practice.

I watched as she poured two fingers worth of Kauffman Vodka into a pair of crystal tumblers. When she capped the bottle off and set it aside. I lifted the glass as she did and mirrored her tiny salute.

“Na zdorovje,” she said.

With a smile I sipped at the vodka and then set the glass down.

“We’ve known each other for quite a long time, Natasha.”

I nodded. “Fourteen years this July.”

She grinned. “Yes. And in that time did you know that we have never repeated a single Interlude?”

With a shrug I placed my hands in my lap and made sure my posture was still in line with Anastasia’s. “I like new experiences.”

“I know. It took me two and a half years to figure that one out. I thought I wasn’t satisfying your desires.”

“Ana,” I said, as I was almost allowed the chance to apologize.

“No,” she waved me off. “It was my own preconceived notions that led me in that direction. Without naming names, virtually every Red Room client has one fantasy, or at the most variations on one fantasy. It becomes… well, it becomes boring after a while. You’ve always kept me on my toes, Natasha. In short, it’s because of you that I still play an active role here.”

The sound of the air conditioner vents let me know that I’d be cooling off very soon. Wearing layers of latex is almost as good as wearing a parka inside. That’s why I knew the flush of my cheeks wouldn’t give away the measure of pride I felt in her statement.

“In fact, as of three years ago, you are my only client. I’ve parsed all my others to the younger generation, which I’m sure my clients have approved of. There’s only so much that one can do against the ravages of time.”

My eyes widened at what she was saying. “Anastasia, you can’t be serious. You’re still the most beautiful woman I know, well, second most beautiful. Brooke has always held the top spot since I met her.”

Reaching across the small table, she met my hand that I pulled up for that purpose. “You are the sweetest girl, but you’re a bad liar.”

I really was, but I wasn’t lying in this instance. “You’re only thirty-two for God’s sake. That is by no person’s standard an old woman.”

“No, I agree, honey. In everyday life, on the street, or at the local theater, I’m still young and vibrant, but in this business, I’m seven years past my prime. I got my first gray hair this morning and the wrinkles are starting to let themselves be known. I’ve led a hard life, Natasha.”

Unable to listen to her berate what only came naturally, I took up my glass and stood. Balancing without much thought on the five inch spikes I took a couple of steps.

“You’re a perfect lady, Anastasia. If I wasn’t with Brooke I would have done something about it years ago.”

She chuckled. “And I would have thought less of you for doing so. A good person, such as yourself, shouldn’t wind up attached to an aging madam.”

“Hmph. You know what my thoughts are about age. I’m not old and I’m older than you. And as far as being a madam; it’s a noble profession if it’s done with respect, which you have in spades.”

“Noble?” Anastasia said with much amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described quite like that.”

Turning around, I flipped my hair as I’d seen her do on a number of occasions. “Yes, noble. You are a part of this economy. You pay your taxes and provide a vital service, treating your clients with respect, never laughing at them or making them feel inferior no matter how messed up in the head they are.”

Waving my free hand down my body I looked her in the eye. “Take me as a prime example. When Brooke and I first came here and told you that I wanted to experience what it was like to be a woman you told me it was an admirable desire and you’d be happy to help. Believe me, I tried going to someone before and explain myself.”

With another sip at the glass, I steeled my nerve. “Oh, they took my money and went through the motions, but all the while I could see the hint of amusement on their face; the effeminate man wants to pay to be boned by a girl with a plastic penis. My, how the world has come to this; populated by perverts.”

“Natasha…”

“No, let me finish,” I said. “I know I’m not a pervert. I’m just open about my desires. I don’t hide them like ninety percent of the world, because they are the ones that are afraid of expressing themselves, of letting their true selves out of the box that they’ve put themselves in. You’re the one that brought out the real me, Anastasia. It is a noble thing that you’ve done.”

Her eyes were shining at me and I was glad to see a genuine heartfelt smile on her face.

“You make it sound like I cured polio or something.”

“For me you did,” I said. “If I didn’t have this outlet in my life I’m sure Brooke would have left me years ago, because I would have screwed everything up trying to hide it from her. So, if nothing else you’ve saved my marriage.”

I looked at her and then at myself. It was truly odd to see us, dressed as we were, speaking about such subjects.

“Now, if we’re done with this silly discussion could you tell me why were dressed like the Doublemint Twins: The Fetish Edition?”

With a single shot, Anastasia tossed back the last of her vodka and set the glass down.

“I want you to come work for me, and tonight is your audition.”

~O~

The inside of my car smelled like a rubber factory exploded all over the upholstery. It was probably due to the outfit I was still wearing on the way home at Brooke’s request. Anastasia provided me with a knee length latex coat to top the whole thing off.

I had to give it to her and Brooke; I never saw the job offer coming from a mile off.

For four months I’d been out of work. Research and development was the first department to be cut off when the layoffs started happening at 2R. With the most recent administration cutting back on the defense budget we’d lost a lot of Defense Department financing and thus I wound up out on the street, so to speak.

Brooke and I weren’t hurting for money in the least, because she owned her own company which she’d inherited from her father when he died ten years previous. However, I was prideful and insisted I pull my own weight. My loving wife said that I could simply live at home, take care of our two children and generally become a househusband.

The thought had merit and I had more than a few fantasies about letting her wear the pants in our relationship, if you get my meaning. But when it came down to it, I loved my job and couldn’t see not working again.

Well, that was all in the past now, because after the thirty-fifth interview that afternoon, I’d been turned down yet again in lieu of someone that would work at half my requested salary. Then Anastasia comes along with apparently the full support of my wife. In short, my brain had short circuited.

According to what Ana said, I could work every day I wanted in feminine dress, that she’d even use company resources to make a few cosmetic changes to my face and body. She just wanted someone to share in her duties, someone that actually cared about the service like she did so that she could have a life outside of the Red Room.

I even went so far as to work beside one of her best girls during a client’s Interlude. I had to admit, it was a heady experience.

Long ago I’d retired the sexual aspect of my feminine side. I had discovered that being used by a dominant female wasn’t what I really wanted. I actually did want to experience what it was like being a girl. The fetish outfits I requested to be dressed in at the beginning soon turned to regular costumes, and then to fancy antique dresses, then to modern day dresses and eventually to casual wear clothes. Leather clad sexual Interludes ultimately wound up taking a back seat to casual conversation while clothed in a summer dress and flat sandals.

Anastasia became my friend and confidant, training me for the last fourteen years how to be a girl, a young woman, and ultimately an adult woman. I was confidant in myself even when I knew I couldn’t pass in public most of the time.

That night was a different matter altogether. They’d pulled out every single stop to make me as passable as possible, and it was a job well done. The client I assisted with didn’t have a clue about what was being hidden away from him. In his eyes, I was just another one of the girls at the Red Room that he was paying for his pleasure.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t have sexual relations with the man. Instead I assisted Mistress Laura with whatever she needed, but I could still see the desire from the client’s eyes directed toward me whenever Laura wasn’t in his line of sight.

In short, I really enjoyed the Interlude and couldn’t find a single reason to complain about anything Laura did. If I wanted to, I could do everything she did. Their skin never came in contact, and she used sexual toys to provide him pleasure. It was just skirting the legal side of the law. Since I was familiar with all the equipment, and the tools of the trade, all I’d have to do was learn the limits of my own clients.

No, I didn’t take the job right away, and Anastasia didn’t insist on an answer. She wanted to make sure that Brooke was onboard and didn’t have any reservations. That meant she needed to be comfortable with any changes I made. The kids needed to be alright with it as well.

I snorted at that thought as I pulled into the driveway and hit the garage door opener.

Caleb and Josie wouldn’t be finding out anything about what the job entailed, but they might wonder why their dad was sporting a brand new set of boobs, a smaller nose, a shaved adams apple and auburn hair. While I was nervous about telling them, I was fairly sure that they’d accept the new me. Caleb was as gay as the day was long and I knew Josie was very supportive of him. Brooke and I had always instilled the notion of acceptance of people’s differences as they grew up. They were good kids. I couldn’t ask for any better. Though I wish I didn’t have to find out about Caleb’s boyfriend the way I did; in flagrante, so to speak.

His boyfriend was horrified that I’d returned home early one afternoon, only to hear odd noises coming from Caleb’s bedroom. A quick knock later and I’d stuck my head in to say, “What’s up, son?” This was followed by Cary ripping his mouth off of my son’s penis, nearly screaming in the process and me saying, “Oh, apparently you are,” before closing the door and making a quick retreat to the liquor cabinet and a bracing vodka soon after.

Luckily, I was already prepared with the dos and don’ts of sexual relations and how disappointed I was to see that he wasn’t sporting a condom at the time.

All those thoughts dropped out of my head when I shut the engine off and closed the garage door. My hand froze on the small travel bag that contained my male clothes as I worked myself up for meeting my wife for the first time dressed in feminine garb, fetish garb no less.

It wasn’t that big of a stretch to accomplish. We each had our own stash of bedroom wardrobe. As I said before we were both pretty adventurous. I just didn’t know if I wanted her to meet Natasha for the first time dressed as I was. However, I did have to admit that the equipment enhancements that I sported underneath all the rubber were more realistic while concealed.

I alit from the car and breathed through my slight anxiety as my spiked heels clicked on the bare concrete. When I reached the door, I paused with my hand on the knob for a few seconds before turning it and pushing the door open before stepping straight into a spider’s web.

Jumping backward, I slapped at my face and hair as shivers ran up and down my spine. If there was one thing I hated more than any other it was walking into a web, face first. It was very high up there on the creep-me-out factor right along with touching peeled grapes, the entire concept of Jello, and politicians who smile.

I was exposed to peeled grapes at a Halloween party while I was blindfolded and told they were human eyes. Jello… well, should any food you eat, wiggle? And lastly I want politicians who frown because they don’t want to be in Washington in the first place. If they’re happy, it just makes me wonder what exactly they’re happy about.

When I was reasonably sure that I had removed all of the webbing I brushed off my hands on a shop towel and then nearly jumped when I felt a sharp stinging at the nape of my neck.

“Oww, fuck!”

Slapping at my neck, another sting jolted me and came to the rapid conclusion that there was spider somewhere amongst the mess of the webbing I’d destroyed. After the third sting I finally had smashed the little bastard and once again had to wipe off my hand on the shop towel. Hence the reason I hate walking into spider webs.

“Nate?” Brooke said as she flipped on the light to the kitchen. “I heard you cussing are you…”

Brooke, dressed in a very sexy leather bustier, stockings, and very high heels almost skidded to a stop when she saw me. Her mouth dropped open and I hadn’t seen her so surprised since I told her about Cary and Caleb. In the course of those surprised seconds, her shock turned to delight.

“Oh my God. Look at you!”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the light so she could get a proper look at me.

“Anastasia said that you could pass, but I had no idea.”

~O~

After the fourth round in bed I was getting somewhat tired and was amazed at my stamina. Usually I could squeak out two times, and maybe a third if I’m well rested, but even after a full day of running around looking for a job, three hours at the Red Room, and four exhausting rounds of sex with my beloved Brooke, I was still hard and it was beginning to hurt.

“Okay,” Brooke said through her rapid post-coital breathing. “I don’t know if it’s the latex, the idea that you’re hot as a woman, or what that says about my determined heterosexuality not being so determined anymore, but you’re an animal tonight.”

The ceiling fan was going full tilt so I wouldn’t overheat in the latex, but I was still sweating like mad underneath all the layers.

“Maybe Anastasia slipped me some Viagra or something. I’m still hard as a rock.”

“What?”

Brooke turned on the bedside lamp because the handful of candles apparently wasn’t doing the job. Looking down at my member I could see it was an angry, almost purple color, and looking like it was going to burst because of the pressure.

“That doesn’t look good. Do you feel okay?” she asked.

I shrugged, still drained from our activities. “Tired, achy, but that could be from the work… GNNNN.”

My body jerked in a seizure and then relaxed.

“Nathanial!”

I blinked and tried to focus on Brooke’s face hovering over me. Then I seized again, harder and harder until I felt as if someone touched me I’d break apart.

~O~

The noise in my bedroom woke me from the stupor to find some guy leaning over me with a stethoscope firmly set on my chest.

“Nathanial?”

Brooke pushed the guy out of the way and took my hand in hers. I forced a hard blink to clear my thoughts. One minute I was laying there and the next there’s an EMT in my bedroom.

“Brooke?” I cleared my throat because I wasn’t trying to sound like a girl at that particular moment.

While I had apparently lost most of my senses, I was aware enough to know I wasn’t wearing any of the fetish garments I was when I most probably blacked out.

“Ms. Romanoff,” the EMT interrupted. “I really need to check your… husband out.”

“What happened?” I asked and then cleared my voice again as the EMT wrapped a cuff around my upper arm and began pumping on the attached bulb.

He glanced at Brooke and then back at me. “I’ve seen this twice before… uh… While you’ll need a DNA test to positively confirm the fact, I’d say that you’re a metahuman and you’ve just gone through…”

My breath started coming a lot quicker as I glanced down and noticed the silicone breast prosthesis Candi applied to me were a little more real than before; namely the presence of areola and nipples.

“Your blood pressure and heart rate are within normal limits,” he said as he continued trying his best to act dispassionate and even-headed. “Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort? Ms. Romanoff said that you were seizing and looked to be in pain before you lost consciousness.”

I nodded.

“He had…” Brooke stopped and looked at me for a moment. “We had just got through making love and his erection hadn’t subsided.”

The guy looked at her blankly. “Well, um, that happens naturally sometimes, but…”

“Not after the fourth time.”

“Oh.” His face reddened slightly and then looked at me knowingly “Are you on any prescription or non-prescription medication?”

I shook my head.

“No Viagra, similar drugs, or herbal supplements?”

I shook my head again.

“What about Anastasia?” Brooke asked me.

“I was joking. I had one drink with her and she drank out of the same bottle.”

The EMT held up his hand. “It probably wouldn’t have mattered. I’m just being thorough. From what I’ve read in the medical journals and state updates, this sort of thing happens under high stress situations. Adrenaline gets pumping, instances of unusual intense pain, dangerous situations and so on.”

Something occurred to me. “Spider bites?”

The EMT puffed his cheeks out in thought. “It would have to be one big or venomous spider. Why? Did you get bit?”

I nodded again. “About nine o’clock, out in the garage, three times.”

“A spider?” Brooke was confused.

I was saved from eternal whimpiness by the EMT. “Certain exotic spiders have latrotoxin in their poison sacs. Tell me, were you experiencing any muscle cramps or stomach cramps.”

“A little. I was just really tired and sore, and the thing with my, um…”

A grim look came over him. “It sounds like you were going through latrodectism. Some of the symptoms you’re describing are consistent and one of the more serious side-effects is priapism. You didn’t happen to keep the spider did you?”

I grimaced. “I squished it pretty good, but I wiped my hand off on a shop towel. Brooke could you show him, so I could get dressed?”

While the sheet that was covering me was just over my breasts, I’d feel a lot better about wearing real clothes.

“Should she be getting up,” she asked.

The EMT stood up from his crouch near the bed and nodded. “Take it easy though until you get used to moving around. Every metahuman I’ve ever read about winds up in better health after their change. Your hus…” He glanced at me. “Anyway, it would be best to check with your regular doctor first thing so they can refer you to a specialist to tell you for sure what happened.”

He left the room to give us some privacy.

“Oh, Nate. I can’t believe… I mean one minute…” Brooke stopped and sighed. “Get one of my yoga outfits from the drawer. I doubt you’ll fit your hips into anything I own.”

With that, she got up and left the room.

After a few seconds I threw off the sheet and looked down at my body. In a word, I considered it perfect. My skin was pale, just this side of milky white, and there wasn’t a single blemish to be seen. I pushed myself up and felt the weight of my breasts tug at my chest. They looked average for my frame. Until I acquired a tape measure I couldn’t be sure of their size, but my waist was another matter. It was waspish, flaring dramatically at my hips, which Brooke was right about. They were wide.

Deciding to postpone a thorough inspection I moved in front of Brooke’s bureau and opened the drawer that I knew contained the outfits she spoke of. Not wanting to go over the top I chose a simple gray one with pink striping on the legs and a sleeveless top that matched. When I glanced up I froze to stare at myself in the mirror.

Leaning in I reached up and touched my face. The shape had totally changed to the point where I didn’t recognize myself. I went from oval to rectangular shaped with a high forehead and with just a touch of widow’s peak at the hairline, which was auburn, by the way. My lips had filled out a little and my nose was virtually nonexistent.

“If I didn’t know this was possible I say that this was impossible.”

Shaking the reflection away I stepped into the pants and pulled them up. They fit fairly well if I didn’t pull them too far above my hips. The sport bra fit very nicely which meant I was in the B to C range as I knew that was Brooke’s size. The sleeveless shirt went on after and I immediately felt better.

Wanting to go see if they found anything, I stepped toward the door but stopped myself for a brief squeeze, just to make sure the breasts I possessed were indeed real. Yep. They were real and quite sensitive.

A little jolt of excitement ran through me. I knew I should probably be freaking out by this point, but seriously how often do you really get to live out your deepest fantasy? I really was a girl, and from the looks of the face staring back at me in the mirror, I appeared to be in my very late teens or at the most twenty-one and that was pushing it.

~O~

“Here, look,” said the EMT as he was pointing with his flashlight.

Brooke and I followed where he was shining and saw a very disorganized web fairly close to the door and underneath one of the shelves I used to store paint cans.

“Black Widow. Whatever you killed was too far gone to be able to tell what it was, but I can definitely say it was black. I think we can safely say that if you were bitten three times by the momma widow then you should count yourself pretty lucky.”

“Lucky?” Brooke said doubtfully.

The EMT nodded. “If your husband wasn’t a metahuman, Ms. Romanoff then he probably would have gone to sleep tonight and might not have woken up tomorrow. Untreated, a single bite can make you very sick, two can put you in a coma, and three… well.”

I set my smaller and much more elegant hand on Brooke’s forearm. “I’d much rather be a girl than dead, honey.”

They both nodded sympathetically.

The EMT glanced at me. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright now? I’d be more than happy to take you to the hospital and we can have them give you a more professional opinion.”

Shaking my head, I smiled. “Actually, I feel great.”

“Alright then.”

~O~

We spent a few minutes signing some forms and then he left.

Brooke seemed to be conflicted about something and I had a pretty good idea what.

“Do you want me to crash on the couch tonight?” I asked.

She turned away from the door and gave me a look like I was crazy. “You’re my husband,” she said with a frown. “Of course you’re sleeping with me.”

As she moved to brush past me, I took hold of her upper arm. “Then what’s bothering you, beyond the obvious I mean.”

A few moments passed, but it looked as if she worked up the courage to face whatever it was that was troubling her.

“You look like a teenager… and I’m…”

Oh.

Whatever was done to me put us a virtually the same height, so when I moved in to give her a hug we fit together rather brilliantly, like two Lego pieces joined into one.

“I love you, Brooklyn Romanoff. I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world and that hasn’t ever changed.”

She sobbed for less than a minute, pulling herself together at the end and separating from me as she wiped at her eyes.

“Look at me. I should be comforting you and…”

“Shh…” I whispered. “Let’s go back to bed and tomorrow morning we can look at this from a fresh perspective.”

With the adrenaline rush that Brooke experienced it wasn’t long thereafter that she crashed properly and fell asleep beside me. It took me almost two hours reviewing everything in my mind before I finally drifted off.

~O~

“Do you think we should call the kids to come back early?” Brook asked as she sifted through her closet for something that might fit me.

“I think we need to get me situated so we don’t have to worry about other things. That means…” I paused and tried to think of what I needed to do. “I have no idea that means.”

Brooke saw the look on my face, which had to be my helpless face, because I could see the compassion on hers. She took a short breath and quickly made a decision as to what I was going to wear.

“Clothes are first. I’m sure there’s something online about where we can go for legal things. We have time for that though; it’s Saturday. No government office, that can do anything, will be open until Monday.”

I nodded, glad that she was taking charge.

“We’ll plan out what to tell the kids. Stephanie will probably be over the moon. You know how much she loves that Terra girl on TV.”

That left my son; him I wasn’t so sure about. “Caleb might not take it so well.”

Brooke held out a black stretchy skirt to me before turning around to her lingerie drawer. “Really? You think so?”

“This metahuman thing is genetic. While I don’t think he’ll have too much of a problem with me being a woman, the odds on the kids have got to increase; don’t you think?”

“Maybe we should save that question for the professionals.”

Microfiber panties were handed to me and I slipped my robe off to don them while Brooke watched. I’ve never really been embarrassed by my body, at least while I was a male. I’ve always been fit, not leaning too far in one direction or the other. However, as a girl I was superfit. The look she was giving me balanced between interest and envy. I promised myself not to berate her about feeling old in my presence, but I had a feeling it was going to become a full time job.

I smiled at her and I hoped it was the sensual look that I was trying to emote. “Like what you see?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “I guess we’re really going to see if I can handle this whole bisexual business you’ve got me into.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last night.”

“Hmm, I distinctly remember you having a penis last night.”

My grin turned naughty. “That can be arranged. We can even experiment with size, shape, color, and functionality. Think of it this way: I’ll never leave you hanging again because I couldn’t get it up after a long day at work.”

Brooke seemed to ponder that thought for a minute as she chose a red blouse for me as I slipped on the skirt.

“I think I need to visit the toy store and stock up on some new items,” she said. “Being a girl hasn’t decreased your desire to experiment, has it?”

Stepping forward, I gave her a brief hug and a light kiss. “As always, Brooke, I’m game for anything you can think up.”

~O~

We finished getting dressed and then I impressed Brooke with my makeup skills and shoe selection before heading out.

It took us about six hours of hardcore shopping before she deemed me reasonably outfitted with a skeleton wardrobe. We wore the same size tops and I found out the same size bras as well, so most of the shopping was for bottoms, lingerie, and shoes. I was half a size smaller we realized when I was beginning to develop a blister on my left heel.

The positive side to the experience was that we could share a number of clothes and that made Brooke happy to no end. Plus, I found out my official measurements: 34C-22-36. We borrowed the tape measure from the Victoria’s Secret girl while she fetched a number of selections Brooke picked out for me. I was 5’7 and the scales in the bathroom had me at 147 pounds which had to be centered on my breasts and hips for the most part. Knowing Brooke weighed in at 125 made me feel self-conscious, like I was too heavy. She had to pull me away from the mirror as I tried to examine myself for unsightly bulges of fat. I saw exactly how easy it was for teenage girls to bend to peer pressure and magazine ideals.

Still, I ate a salad for lunch and Brooke teased me with an ice cream cone until I gave in and wound up eating half.

On the way home was when she chose to finally ask the question I’d been waiting for since the night previous.

“You seem really happy.”

Okay, it really wasn’t a question so much as a statement that needed expounding upon.

“I am.”

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to dangle the bait in front and make her ask the question.

“Why aren’t you more freaked out? Pretty much every guy I know would be moaning about the loss of their masculinity, not to mention valuable body parts.”

With a shrug I shifted toward her in my seat.

“I think I was more transsexual than crossdresser.”

Brooke’s lips bunched up in thought. “Meaning you wanted to be a girl all along?”

“Sort of. I mean, you already know my story; dressed in my sister’s clothes since I was nine, always appreciated the female side of things more than the male, etcetera. The thing is I really wanted to be a girl. It was like an unfulfilled fantasy that I was seriously considering making a reality before I met you.”

She glanced at me and then looked back to the road. “You mean with drugs and surgery?”

“Yeah. I even scheduled a visit to a psychiatrist that specialized in that, but the day before I was going to meet with him I met the most wonderful girl at a nightclub.”

That revelation seemed to concern her, so I explained.

“You were more important to me. I didn’t even give it a second thought. As long as you let me explore my feminine side on occasion, I was happy. Now that it’s actually happened and you aren’t freaking out, but instead seemed to be encouraging and supportive, well, I’m pretty much on cloud nine at the moment.”

We drove on for quite a while, almost making it back home before she asked the other question I was waiting for.

“If you had the chance to go back, would you?”

Knowing what I know, exactly how nice it was to finally be who I was meant to be?

“If you couldn’t accept me as I am then I would. You’re more important to me than this.”

After we pulled into the garage and shut the door, Brooke popped her seatbelt and grabbed my hand.

“I want you to be happy, Nate. I’m attracted to you like this, but I don’t know if it will be enough. For all my life I’ve been perfectly straight. Giving up… giving up on seeing you male again… I don’t know if I’m as strong as you when it comes to something like this, but I will tell you that I’ll try.”

I crawled up and across the center console to show her how much I appreciated her effort. When we broke apart, our breath was heated and I could see her eyes were going glassy.

“Well then, I guess I have a busy night to plan for.”

~O~

The next morning I spent a good amount of time clipping tags and washing clothes to get the new smell out of the fabrics, and bagging my male clothes, because I proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that sex with the female me could be just as good as the male me. Brooke was a well satisfied convert. I just had to convince her that I was the same person, which shouldn’t too difficult, because I was.

While I was doing laundry, I pulled the sheets on the bed and spotted the boots Anastasia made a part of my fetishwear on Friday night. That brought to mind the outfit itself.

“Hey, honey?”

“Yeah,” Brooke called out from the kitchen where she was making us lunch.

“What did you do with the outfit from the other night when you took it off me?”

“What outfit?”

Shuffling through the utility room door I looked at her. “All the purple and black latex. The breast and hip things.”

“Oh… uh.”

“You did take them off me, right?”

She winced. “They kind of melted off you.”

“Melted?” That didn’t sound right. “Wouldn’t there be a big mess on the bed? I don’t remember you changing the sheets that night.”

“I don’t know, Nate. I was panicking at what was happening. I didn’t really pay attention.”

Since I had just pulled the sheets off, I know for a fact that there wasn’t a mess on the mattress beneath.

“You don’t think…” I mumbled.

“Think what?”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” I said more to convince myself than Brooke.

“No, tell me.”

Looking up at her I shook my head. “You don’t think I absorbed it or something weird like that?”

She smiled for a moment, like she thought I was messing around and then her face fell, but then reverted a second later.

“I’m pretty sure latex and silicone would be toxic. You’re still feeling alright, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “Better than alright. It’s more like I’m young and indestructible again.”

“Hmph,” she grunted playfully. “You are.”

“I guess.”

We were interrupted by the back door opening and Josie strolling through. It wasn’t even twelve yet and we weren’t expecting her back until late afternoon. I was planning on wearing something less feminine, or I should say, less revealing. The cropped pink tank and hot pants I was wearing was for working around the house, not for confronting my daughter with my sudden change in gender status.

She saw Brooke first and gave her a, “Hi, Mom. Wendy’s parents had to bolt for some reason so…”

That was when she spotted me. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know…”

My mouth was open with being caught unaware, so I probably looked a little guilty standing there.

Josie vaguely pointed at me and then looked behind to see the washer was running. “Uh… who are you and why are you doing our laundry.”

The bed sheets were balled up in my arms as I glanced to Brooke.

Josie looked back and forth between the two of us, almost panicked. “Where’s Dad?”

“Honey, this isn’t what it looks like,” Brooke said.

“Oh my God, you’re having an affair with a girl and she’s cleaning up the evidence? Mom, how could you!”

I shook my head and dropped the sheets.

“And she’s a total slut! Who wears clothes like that?”

“Josie,” I snapped. “Your mother isn’t having an affair. I’m your dad.”

The look she gave me was like she was expecting to hear anything come out of my mouth but that.

“Wha…?”

“Apparently I’m a metahuman. I turned into a girl Friday night. And I’m not dressed like a slut. You have an outfit very similar to this if I remember right.”

Brooke helped me out. “Josie, honey. It’s the truth; it’s Dad.”

Her shoulders slumped and she glared at Brooke. “Nice try, but you’re going to have to come up with something better than that. I’m going to my room, and I’m telling Dad about your skank whenever he comes home.”

Off she went, almost stomping. “I can’t believe you’re cheating on him.”

I glance over at Brooke’s shocked expression when Josie disappeared.

“I’m going to go change so I’m less skank-like. I’ll talk to her, honey.”

Regular jeans and a tiered lace trimmed pink cami were what I chose. It was casual enough to be normal and not look like I was trying hard. A minute later I was knocking on my daughter’s door.

“Go away!” she yelled.

“Josie, it’s me, Dad.”

“You’re not my dad!”

I sighed and leaned against the door jam. “What’s something that only your dad would know?”

The door opened and I could see she’d been crying as her face was already blotchy and weepy looking. She glared at me and then took in what I was wearing. Her eyes narrowed.

“What’s my birthday?”

I almost snorted. “May fifth, but anyone could know that. Try harder.”

Her lips bunched together in anger, but I could see she was thinking, which was all I wanted her to do.

“Fine, who was my very first boyfriend?”

Opening my mouth, I was about to say Timothy Randall, the little pervert. I’d caught him trying to feel her up outside of school after her breasts started coming in. However I stopped, and remembered someone else.

“Carson Tate. You were five and insisted our next door neighbor was your new boyfriend and that you two were going to get married, but he got grape jelly on your favorite Hello Kitty tee shirt so you called off the engagement.”

Josie’s eyes were progressively getting bigger and bigger as I explained about her one true love that got away, until I was finished.

“Dad?”

I nodded. “Sorry about the outfit earlier. Your mom and I weren’t expecting you until later.”

She spent the next minute looking me over from a few steps away. “You’re a metahuman?”

I nodded again.

“Like Terra and American Dream?”

With a shrug I tried to make less of our hometown heroes. “Well, I don’t know about that. I haven’t displayed any weird superpowers or anything. One minute I was a guy and the next your mom was calling 911.”

Josie popped her head out the door and looked down the hall before grabbing my hand and pulling along, closing and locking the door soon thereafter.

“Why are you so young?”

“Dunno.”

She eyed my butt and frowned. “Are you and Mom… you know…”

Making a noise in my throat I let her know I didn’t approved of her subject matter. “We’re trying to sort things out. It’s a big sacrifice for her, so don’t tease her about it or anything.”

“So, no more sex?” Josie said it so bluntly and matter-of-fact that I froze in place.

“Uh…”

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “You two have already had lesbian sex! My mom’s a lesbian! Wendy is gonna be so jealous.”

“Josie! Where do you get all of this stuff? I think we need to start limiting your time on the internet. And what’s this about Wendy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wendy has had a crush on Mom for like three years. Don’t you see the way she looks at mom whenever she spends the night?”

“Wendy is gay? When did this happen?”

Josie palmed me off and led me to her bed before grabbing a bottle of nail polish and jumping down by my feet.

“What are you doing?”

I got the teenager look in reply. You know the one; it says ‘quit being a stupid parent and just chill already.’

“We’re having girl talk and that means I have to paint your nails, duh!”

With an amused smirk I pointed to her basket-o-nail polish. “If you’re going to do it, may I have a color that doesn’t contain glitter?”

She sighed and then retrieved a bottle that looked like it was bubblegum pink.

“So, anyways, are you like totally girl.” The gesture she threw was between my legs.

“Yes, Josie. I seem to have all the same equipment now as you.”

“Awesome! We’re gonna have so much fun.”

That comment lit all the alarm lights in my head screaming danger! “What is it that you think is going to be fun?”

“Well obviously you look totally younger. You could probably even go to my high school. You’re way hotter than Cindy Thompson and her bunch. I bet you can hook me up with the in-crowd easy peasy. And that means senior boys.”

Josie was already on my third toe as I broke the news. “Honey, I’m not going to high school. I already have a master’s degree, and I’m definitely not hooking you up with older boys.”

She made a noise of disappointment. “But… you’d make the perfect older sister.”

“I’m your dad.”

“Dads are guys and you’re a girl that looks a little bit older than me. I’m not calling you ‘Dad’. It would be totally weird and my friends would freak. Do you have a girl name yet?”

I frowned. “Natasha.”

“Na-tasha?” she said uncertainly. “Uh… no. I could see Tasha, maybe. That’s what I’m going to call you.”

Switching to my other foot, we were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“What?” Josie yelled.

“It’s me,” came my son’s voice.

“Oh, duh,” she said. “I forgot I called him when I thought you were a skank.”

Oh brother.

Josie hopped up and opened the door. My son just stared at me. He glanced at Josie and then my left foot which was still wet with nail polish.

“Are you and Mom gonna get a divorce?” he said rather blankly.

“What? No.”

A relieved breath escaped him and he nodded in conformation. “Cool. Um… well, I’ll leave you two to your nail polishing.”

Caleb turned around and before he could leave I called out. “Caleb.”

“Yeah?”

I was amazed that he took the whole thing in stride. “Are you cool with this? I’m still your dad, you know.”

“Her name’s Tasha,” said Josie.

“Natasha.”

She just smirked. “Call her Tasha. No way I’m calling her Dad.”

Caleb grinned. “If you can be cool about me being gay and not making a big deal about it, I figure I can do the same for you. I’ll freak out later. You cool?”

I nodded. “I’m cool.”

“Cool.”

~O~

“I like Tasha better,” Brooke said.

I just sighed and dropped back on my pillow.

“Do you think you can do a Russian accent,” she asked.

Looking over at her as she reached for the light, I saw Brooke lick her lips.

“Da, come lay vith me, sexy voman.”

~O~

Monday was a full day in itself. Once we got the kids off to school Brooke called in to work and told them she was taking a personal day. We gathered all my personal information documents — a new requirement in the state of Texas — and made our way to the Health and Human Services office downtown.

With Brooke as a witness to my transformation, a document from the EMT that was called to the event, and my personal info, I was able to have my official documentation changed. Apparently, there were people skipping across the border and taking advantage of the service to start themselves a new life in America. Now you have to jump through hoops in order to prove that it actually happened.

The earliest my personal physician could get me in was Wednesday, but once I told him about the possibility of absorbing my outfit along with a few pounds of silicone, he went ahead and ordered an MRI and a series of blood tests for me that would supposedly be ready by the time my appointment with him was due.

This took most of the day.

Once four o’clock rolled around, Brooke called and set up a meet with Anastasia. We still had to tell her she was out a fetish outfit.

When the doors to the elevator opened into the lobby of the Red Room, I was beginning to dread meeting with her. Not only was my need for her services pretty much eliminated, I didn’t know if I wanted to work there anymore. It was one thing to be able to dress and sate the desire I had to experience femininity on a daily basis. It was another when I was actually a girl. Besides, Ana was my friend in an odd sort of way. I simply hated to let my friends down.

Gail smiled up at us from her desk in the reception area. “Good afternoon, Ms. Romanoff.” Her eyes slid to me as an unknown quantity. “We were expecting Mr. Romanoff as well. Was he unable to make his appointment?”

Brooke briefly glanced my way. “That’s why we’re here. This is, or rather this was Mr. Romanoff.”

The receptionist looked confused until I waved. “Hi, Gail. I sort of had a metahuman accident on Friday night.”

Her eyes widened as she finally understood. “Oh my gosh! Mr. Romanoff?”

I nodded. “Ms. Romanoff now; Natasha.”

“Oh my gosh!” She looked scattered for a few moments until I think her brain processed what she was supposed to be doing. “I’m so sorry. I’ll alert Miss McCullen that you’re here.”

“Thank you.”

Her eyes never left me and constantly scanned my body the entire time. The knit dress I was wearing made me feel a little self-conscious. I could deal with its cut out shoulders and round neck. It was the long line of bare leg that I was showing that did me in. The desire to tug the hem down stayed with me the entire time I was wearing it, but damn if I didn’t feel sexy. I think it was the matching dark gray heels that made the outfit. A platform of one inch with an additional five inches of heel gave the impression that I was almost all legs.

Of course, Brooke couldn’t be outdone by someone that had only been a girl all of three days. She had her pink minidress off with equally sexy heels. We made quite the pair, each appearing as if we were on the hunt.

“Ms. McCullen is ready to see you, if you’ll follow me,” Gail said as she’d gathered her composure.

We followed her down the long hallway to the ornate wooden door that I knew was Anastasia’s office before she knocked and swiped her keycard. I let Brooke enter first.

Ana stood from her desk and rounded the corner as I entered. She didn’t so much as bat an eye at me as she greeted Brooke and then turned to the unfamiliar face with a bright smile.

“Natasha, you’ve become so scrumptious!” She took me in and then glanced to Brooke. “You must be excited to have such a young vibrant lover, Brooke.”

“You knew?” I almost choked out.

My wife seemed equally as shocked.

“Come. Sit. I’ll explain.”

We took a seat in front of her executive’s desk while Anastasia poured three drinks for us. Once she’d seen to our needs, she took a seat behind the desk.

“The blood samples you give us every month to test for various STDs, Natasha? Well we test for a few other things as well.”

“You knew Tasha was a metahuman and you didn’t say anything?” Brooke accused.

“The test will not tell if someone will change, only if someone has the gene.” Her eyes moved to me, taking in all the physical changes I’d undergone. “We take great strides in accommodating and anticipating our client’s needs, desires, and possible futures. It’s all in the contract you both signed when you became members.”

“Fine print?” I asked.

Ana smiled. “Not at all. The section concerning what we do with the samples you provide is clearly labeled and detailed. You might want to check your personal copies for verification.”

“Why would you want to know if anyone is a metahuman?” Brooke asked, obviously still confused. I wasn’t that far behind her.

“Liability reasons, mostly.” Then I twigged. “The services we provide can be… intense in certain cases. It’s widely understood that if a carrier of the gene is put into certain situations then it could be activated. In Nathanial’s case I personally made sure we never took him that far.”

Relaxing back onto my chair, I sipped at the vodka I was provided.

“I’m sure you can understand how a judgment in a civil case could easily go against us in these matters. A client comes in a male and leaves as a female, or vice versa. It would be our fault because we didn’t take certain precautions. I hope whatever you went through to initiate the change wasn’t dangerous?”

“Spider bite,” I said casually.

She looked confused. “A spider bite?”

“Three actually. A black widow.”

“Ah, well, that would probably do it.”

Brooke appeared contemplative as I informed Anastasia about the fate of the outfit I borrowed.

“It melted?”

I nodded. “With no trace afterward. I still have the boots, but they’re too big for me now.”

“No matter. We have more if you want to recreate the Interlude.” Her eyes focused on me and the flitted to Brooke. “That is if you still want to be a member. Ah, I must be getting slow. That’s why you’re here. You really don’t have a need for our services anymore.”

I swallowed at the disappointed slope of the corners of her mouth.

“It’s still Tasha’s decision,” Brooke announced.

I looked at my wife with a moderate amount of surprise. “I’m a girl now.”

A compassionate smile dropped over her face. “I know how much coming here means to you, Tasha. From the conversation between Anastasia and myself, I also know that she offered you an important position here as well.”

Before I even had a chance to think it over, Anastasia started in with what would be expected of me.

“You’d train with the other girls until you understand all the aspects and the rules from our side of the Interlude, and then I would teach you my job. Within the year you would be running things and then I could go into semi-retirement.”

Giving the drink my full attention I said, “I’m not sure I’m management material. I like to work with my hands. It one of the reasons I’m in R and D.”

Anastasia chuckled. “Darling, why do you think I want you on board? Managing people can be taught. It’s imagination and caring that make the Red Room several cuts above the rest. I want to offer new and inventive services. Our Bondage rooms are dated and people are always coming up with new and interesting fetishes. Electronics are on the rise and I know that was your main focus with your previous job. It’s too dangerous of an area to reserve for those that don’t know what they’re doing, but there is already a need for toys that deliver just the right amount of zing to liven up a stale scene.

“Another important reason I chose you is because of your imagination. Our services are addictive, because we offer the forbidden and I refuse to let a single client go because he or she thought their Interlude was boring. It’s why I worked so hard with you at the beginning.”

My cheeks started going pink at Brooke’s grin. “Oh really? We’ll have to get together sometime and compare notes.”

Anastasia joined her smile conspiratorially. “Would you like me to raise the level of your membership, Brooke? I would love to have you in one of our special rooms.”

That pretty much shut her up, but I could see something in her eyes, so I took advantage of the situation.

“I’ll do it if you start coming in.”

“Tasha!” she said, almost scandalized.

“Consider it done,” Anastasia said. “I think this would be perfect. I’ll have Natasha’s trainer work with you two exclusively. Brooke, you would be the client and Natasha would be your Interlude Facilitator under the direction of a trainer. Tell me, Brooke, are you ready to have your horizons expanded, to truly know what it means to fulfill every fantasy you never knew you had?”

~O~

“I can’t believe she talked me into it,” Brooke said with a moderate amount of humiliation in her tone.

“That’s her job, honey. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in admitting that you like sex differently than the average person. And I’ll be there so you’ll know that you’re perfectly safe.”

She shook her head. “I know I’ll be safe or you wouldn’t have stayed with the Red Room for so long. It’s just the idea of someone I don’t know in there with us.”

“Ah. Well, believe me; they’ve literally seen it all before. Think of them like your gynecologist, just more fun and less clinical… unless you’re into that. I know I’ve seen a couple of the Facilitators in nurse’s outfits before.”

We reached the elevator and Brooke turned to me. In our heels we were exactly the same height and considering what I heard her agree to only minutes before, I was beginning to get aroused.

“I want you to show me what to expect when you get home tonight.”

I nodded and leaned in for a kiss. Her hand brushed my breast as it made its way up to cup my face. Her touch sent me on pins and needles as I wanted to join her and satisfy that desire I was holding firm inside.

“See you later tonight,” Brooke said as she stepped into the car and disappeared.

Anastasia was standing at the door to the hallway with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Come along Natasha. It’s time to get you prepared for your future.”

We entered an employee’s only door and went down a set of stairs. Every once in a while Anastasia would look over her shoulder with a knowing look and it was making me even more pent up.

The next door she opened led to what would best be called a doctor’s office complete with examination table and rows of jars, each with their own labels: tongue depressors, gauze, bandages, and so on.

“I have your immunization records on file and you’ll need several boosters for your protection as well as our clients.”

That seemed a little odd to me. “Why? We don’t really interact like that.”

“Accidents will happen, and I want you to have every advantage of protection. Now, take off your dress and lay down on the table. We have a nurse practitioner on the payroll and she’s going to give you a cursory examination for your employee file.”

~O~

Somewhere along the line, after the inoculations, I fell asleep.

“Natasha, it’s time to wake up,” a voice said to me.

I wiggled a little as I felt my legs being lowered then I opened my eyes to see a blonde woman pulling off her gloves and glancing up at me.

“You’re in very good shape down here. Anastasia tells me that you’ve only been female for a few days.”

Shaking my head, I blinked a couple of times. “Wow, I’ve never fallen asleep during an examination.”

“Don’t think anything of it, sweetie. It’s probably a combination of the inoculations and stress over the last few days.” She stood up and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Miss McCullen dropped off your outfit for your first night of training. Do you need any help putting it on?”

I looked over to the door and saw a black catsuit made of an indeterminate material. Gloves and boots were set to the side.

“No, it looks easy enough.”

She smiled warmly at me. “Be sure to get a in a good workout for the next couple of weeks. It’ll help ease any discomfort from the injections. If you have any problems, side effects, headaches, anything of the sort then call the receptionist and ask for me.”

“Okay.”

“Welcome to the Red Room, Natasha. You’re going to have the time of your life.”

By the time I’ve slipped my second glove on, my fingers were tingling. I felt desirable and dangerous in the tight costume, except it didn’t feel particularly fetish-like. Swinging my arms around to test its limits, I found a full range of mobility. The same was said when I squatted and then extended a single leg. The costume moved with each motion almost like it was literally a second skin. Even the boots, which had no heel at all, felt comfortable yet sturdy.

Standing upright, I twisted my head around to loosen my neck. This was a feeling I could seriously get used to. I stared at myself in the mirror that was attached to the back of the door and looked over every inch that was visible. Instead of leaving the zipper all the way up to the tight collar around my neck, I pulled it down to just below my breasts, exposing a dangerous amount of cleavage.

“There; perfect.”

TBC...

Author's Note: The plot may not be what you think.