Atalanta's Story - Chapter 2 Revised. Written by Katelyn and Edited by William Durr.I want to thank Bill for editing and proofreading while admitting any errors left are mine. The setting and character were inspired by a story Julie O wrote; Frseh Start. The first 2 or 3 chapters were too close and I apologize to the readers, Big Closet, and Julie O. I have re written chapters 2-6 to avoid that as much as possible.

I also wanted to apologize for taking so long to get this out but medical issues and frozen water pipes will do that to a schedule. It is mostly edited and ready to go. You may need to read chapter 1 again.

In this chapter Atalanta adjusts to living as a girl. Both mother and daughter struggle with their new relationship and Atalanta is given a brief look at a mystery of her transformation.

Chapter Two
I sat at the dressing table critically examining my makeup skills that had gotten better with practice. I really didn’t need the mascara as my lashes were full but mom thought curling and applying the mascara and liner would develop a skill set I would need as a woman. As in: attention to detail. My brows were finely arched and needed nothing but an occasional plucking. I liked applying eye shadow and achieving different dramatic looks though I always switched to subtle colors whenever I went out saving the nighttime look for mom, Aunt Judy or Lindsey. Lindsey is my best friend and was one of the people who knew what happened to me.

My eyes had changed colors when I went through the change, from blue to grey that at times I observed glowing with a strange light that reminded me of a cat I had at night would when light touched at a particular angle. Those eyes were large, wide set, luminous and expressive directing attention to the center of my face, from my finely formed nose and full pouty lips that begged to be kissed to the soft and rounded jaw line and chin sloping gently to my delicate and sleek throat and neck.

My cheekbones were high with their own natural color that needed no blush but mom wanted me to learn to apply bronzers and contours to create illusions. Overall, I used minimal product but learned the techniques for creating different effects. It was strange but I did feel a sense of pride in those accomplishments.

Satisfied that my makeup was just the right image for the ‘look’ I wanted, I finished dressing in a beige skirt and peach blouse that hung loosely below the skirt’s waistband. Another habit Liz and Judy had drilled into me the last six weeks was makeup on before clothes. At first the habits of style, fashion, makeup, hair, and skincare seemed to make no sense to me even when it was explained that because of ‘the change’ I became a girl in the middle of a huge increase in female hormones; not the gradual increase that gives most girls time to adjust. Then add the sudden switch from male to female bodies and that hormone reversal they felt I needed a fast track to girlhood.

Mom was concerned that after two months I hadn’t had a period yet; she thought it was probably my body still adjusting to the influx of hormones and was too early to worry. I wasn’t so sure though that it was due to hormones.

The changes that had occurred over three days were many but overall the process worked within my body’s frame. I remained almost the same height at 5’9” and weight at 125 pounds. I was born with mom’s bone structure and fine facial features. But even with that boost I didn’t look like my mom did at 13. Her eyes are green while mine are grey with flecks of gold. She has blonde hair while mine is red with bronze highlights and my complexion is warmer.

My new identification papers had arrived and I was now officially Atalanta Rose Reed or Atalanta for short: Female age 13. Why the name Atalanta? To be honest I can’t say for sure, the name just came to me ... out of the blue. I could see it spelled out on a blackboard but I never got the spelling correct. That might be because the name was not familiar to me; it took a look of Google searches and different combination of letters before I found it. Atalanta was a Greek or Crete Goddess and as soon as I read her story, something in me clicked. The name contained Alan and Alana the name mom and Judy gave me at first. The “T” is different enough to honor Atalanta; it did in my mind anyway.
I returned to brushing my hair that tumbled in waves parting across my shoulders and framing my face with its thick healthy mass of curls.

“Atalanta,” I heard my mom call.

“I’ll be right there,” I called back. Today was inspection day; the day mom and Judy reviewed me on my assignment for the week. Once a week Judy, my mom and me would have dinner and afterwards pointed out where I was improving and where I was not.

“Very good,” mom praised, “Your sense of style and fashion has improved drastically.”

“Hum ... mm,” Judy replied thoughtfully, “Not really much of a challenge with your complexion for the casual outing. Maybe we should next have her put together a hot evening look.” Seeing my disappointment Judy grinned widely, “I’m just teasing you, you look great. Here give me a big hug.”

As we hugged I whispered, “I love you Aunt Judy.”

“I love you too.”

Mom interrupted us, “Time to get to this week’s lesson and we are changing course a little bit into a more serious subject.”

I immediately sat sensing that mom had a serious issue to discuss and she wasted no time, “Atalanta you have had ten weeks to adjust being a girl, what can you tell are the differences between life as Alan and life as Atalanta?”

“Mum ... mm,” I said replaying discoveries in this body and remembering my Alan experiences. “Besides the obvious: a period or in my case not, makeup, clothes, accessories, hair and skin care, my skin is a lot more sensitive ... more sensitive to touch, feel, to cold or heat or even to wind. Oh ... that reminds me if I could go back as Alan I’d apologize to every woman I ever met for some thoughts I had ... back then.”

“Go on dear,” mom prompted me, “I am curious.”

“Well,” I declared, “I can’t get use to these ...,” cupping my breasts … “these boobs.”

“Boobs,” interrupted Judy laughing, “Can’t you think of another name?”

“Puppies, hooters, tits, the girls, bazookas ...”

“Whoa, girl, that’s enough.”

“... Breasts, it is hard to use my arms without them rubbing against my breasts and since they are so sensitive I am always aware of them. To help compensate for that and their weight I notice I’m holding my shoulders and arms back farther which is pushing my breasts out and up even more. That makes it seem like I am putting them on display and want people to see them then get upset when people, boys mostly talk to them and not me. But I am not presenting them or putting them on display.”

“Atalanta,” Judy mockingly scolded me.

“Okay maybe a little,” I confessed blushing.

“That is a natural instinct for the female population,” interjected mom, “it signals the world that you have a healthy body capable of producing enough milk for a baby to live. The same goes for hips ... wide hips is a signal that you can deliver a healthy baby.”

“That is something else I noticed,” I began referring to my hips which really had minimal development, “When I was just getting use to this body I first thought women’s shoes were made differently. That is the soles were ... like they were miniature rockers that forced me to walk using a rolling motion, you know like ocean waves. If I don’t each step seems like I am stomping around. I even went so far as comparing the soles and there is not any difference that I can see.”

“That is interesting,” an amused Judy replied, “I thought I had heard every description under the sun of a catwalk but using rocking chairs and ocean waves to describe it is new ... and very poetic.”

“Anything else,” mom prompted me.

“I think that about covers it,” I confessed softly silently wondering if I missed something important.

“Well,” she began interrupting my musing, “What you have learned so far is attention to detail and self awareness. Both are needed for the next phase ... the three S’s ... Sexual, Situational, and Strength awareness.”

Seeing my confusion she gently patted my hand and continued, “It will become clearer in a few minutes. I assume you have masturbated.”

I mumbled something that might pass for a yes with my cheeks flaming but she relentless resumed, “I am not trying to embarrass you but masturbating is a natural part of discovery as a boy or as a girl. Have you tried it yet as a girl?”

“Mom,” I cried shocked and horrified that she was bringing it up and even suggesting I do it as Atalanta. I had thought about it and several times massaging my breasts had felt tiny shock waves race through my body. Shame or guilt had stopped me from going farther as at those times I felt like an alien in this body invading this young girl’s privacy. The truth was I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with this body or my old one both on the verge of puberty.

“Atalanta you need to understand that going through puberty is tough on girls from birth with your body changing and the influx of hormones when you start your menses. It will be doubly tough on you not having that expectation all your life and I’m trying to make you aware of all that you are and will face.”

She reached into her purse and produced a small box that contained a bone white cylinder that fit snugly in her palm and a soft flexible pink tip. I jumped when she turned it on.

“This is a personal massager and it’s very good for sore and tired muscles,” mom continued in her professional tone and demonstrated it on her neck and shoulders. “Umm,” she softly sighed before handing it to me. I handled it very tentatively in very nervous fingers.

“Try it on your arm; the tip is soft, flexible, and washable.”

I did and it was surprisingly soothing but I quickly shut it off. Mom pushed the box over to me and I hastily boxed it up.

Unabashed mom continued, “It is very good for relieving pent up tension.”

I nodded numbly hoping we could move on to the next item on mom’s agenda. In the next breath I regretted that thought.
Mom pushed a white disk across the table to me. It had a dial and the days of the week printed on the face.
The implications were clear and uncomfortable.

“Mom, I don’t need that.”

“I know you don’t dear but I do want you to understand the realities of what menstruation means to you. It is a threshold from girlhood into womanhood and crossing that bridge brings with it a ton of new responsibilities.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about and it must have shown on my face.

“Sweetie, I know this is a lot to take in and I hate to push you too much but you need to know and prepare for it.”

“Prepare for what?” I pressed.

She replied still engaged in a neutral tone, “Female and male arousal are two different animals. In males it is concentrated in one place and in one part.”

Okay that I understand.

“Female arousal is still intense there but it spreads to more of your body, moving up your body to your breasts, neck, shoulders, face, and lips and down into your legs. If you are not careful that reaction; at first can overwhelm your mind and the results of that action can have lasting effects.”

“Effects, what effects,” I asked.

“Unwanted pregnancy, STDs, and a bad reputation are some on the top of my head. Do you have any questions?”

I laughed dryly, “Never in my wildest dreams did I think when this summer started that we would have this discussion or that I would be concerned about getting pregnant.”

Mom shaking her head replied, “Neither did I and that is why I am pushing you so hard because this wasn’t part of your learning experience. Girls grow up absorbing tidbits here and there until it becomes second nature. You don’t have that luxury.”

I nodded while looking at that disk asked, “What do I do with this?”

“Nothing,” mom replied reclaiming the disk, “I used it as prop for now; later we can talk about it.”

Okay I thought this mother daughter relationship involves a lot more than mother son thing did.

“Any questions so far?” Liz continued when I shook my head. “Then tell us what you have learned so far.”

I shook my head at what was fast becoming a lecture but replied determined to make the most of it. “Well,” I began hesitantly, “Female arousal is so different from the male arousal that you want me to build up to it so I don’t get overwhelmed and do something stupid like get pregnant.”

She smiled wistfully at my choice of words and tone, “That about sums it up but you will find that it really is a pleasant experience.”

Mom cleared her throat and took a sip of tea before continuing, “Next up is situational awareness. The attention to detail that you have acquired in your appearance naturally translates into this area and is as vital as sexual awareness; it really can’t be separated.”

Liz nodded at Judy who began, “Places, people, events, things, your emotions and so much more plays a part of situational awareness. Places that hold more potential for danger are unlit, private or less traveled places. Dirty, abandoned, and neglected places also are places you need to avoid. People can be grouped into the same categories ... sort of, appearance and hygiene are important. But so is a sense of humor, how they treat other people, family and friends. Unlike places, people are not that cut and dried and you have to trust your intuition.”

“Events are things like, is alcohol being served? Women have a lower alcohol tolerance due to our higher fat percentage and alcohol usually involves money. Things are like weapons, animals, machinery that sort of thing. Emotions are mostly your emotions. As women, emotions are our fuel and sometimes make us do some things we regret. A breakup, yours, or a close friend, an accident, death of someone close, job loss, any of those things can leave you vulnerable. Obviously, the more negatives a situation holds the more you should avoid it.”

Being aware of your surroundings, attention to detail, keeping your head up with a confident attitude, developing a feel of people and places will in most cases get you out of tough situations unhurt.”

Shaking my head I asked, “I do not understand how this is different from what I learned as Alan. Those are the sort of things and places I’d naturally stay away from anyway so I don’t understand how it is different now.”

“Believe me it is,” Judy replied quickly, “For one thing you will receive lots more attention, offers, and flattery now that you are a beautiful desirable young lady. Our nature as women makes us less aggressive, more willing to please other people, and with the added attention and opportunities makes you more likely to accept invitations. The results are a lot different too. I don’t think as Alan you would worry about sexual assault as Atalanta you need to. Since smaller amounts of alcohol affect you faster, harder, and longer it is easier to spike your drink. That is why you need to keep in mind about not leaving unfinished sodas unguarded while you are gone to the restroom or dancing. Take it with you, finish it, or have someone you trust watching it. Those, like several things that fall into situational awareness categories are not hard and fast rules that always apply.”

Mom piped in, “Speaking of which I think you should seriously consider dating,” she held up her hands, “No,” at my initial negative response, “hear me out. I don’t want you getting into a serious relationship with a guy, not now, but I do think you need the experience. After all,” she smiled, “I just want you to have fun in a safe environment.”

I stopped my initial retort and after a few deep breaths replied, “My initial reaction was not no, but hell no! However, I do think you are right if I can be upfront with the guy that is neither serious nor long term. I also want your approval of the date and the guy and I’d really love if Lindsey and I can double date. OMG I can’t believe I even said that.” I moaned holding my head in my hands sobbing softly. Pulling me to my feet, Judy and Mom engaged me in a group hug with our tears flowing freely.

Somebody handed me a tissue and I carefully dried my eyes.

Still sniffling I weakly said, ‘Mom I know it wasn’t your intention and probably is for the best but you have ripped my heart and soul out. There is nothing left of Alan, he is dead,” I cried sadly.

Mom hugged me tightly and cried fiercely, “No baby he is not dead. It may seem like it now, but as long you live he does too.”

Nodding I replied, “I will have to take your word for it, right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

Suddenly I reached a decision, “I know you have more left to go but you will have to excuse me if I go to bed. I have had a belly full.”

My mind froze at the prospect of dating and its images. In my pain and confusion, I wanted to lash out; to her hurt back in spades. But I didn’t. First because it wouldn’t be right, I’d be inflicting intentional pain for accidental pain. Secondly because some basic core decisions are individual ones, ones that no one but you can make and live with its results. Of course, I held my tongue and said nothing.

Mom continued, “Atalanta we may have covered too much tonight, in more detail than needed, and maybe too negatively and harshly but we needed to get a point across; that point is different rules apply to you now.”

She sighed brushing her hair back saying, “The last thing we wanted to cover is strength awareness. I’m sure you noticed that while your height and weight are the same that weight is distributed differently ... now.”

A rueful smile played across my face as I looked down at my breasts and my hands traced my hips, “I noticed.”

“... You have less muscle mass and less strength. Physically you are not a match against a man but you have certain advantages a man doesn’t have. The number one rule is safely running or getting away from an attacker ... anyway you can. You can use force multipliers, mace or pepper spray, fingernails, eye gouging, a knee to the groin, even car keys or even your purse if it has a metal buckle to hurt him while you escape. You can use his desire for you, and most of the time it will be a sexual assault, against him. Flirting with him or showing him some cleavage; any distraction that gives you an edge to escape is acceptable if not desirable.”

“Because of our size and our vulnerability during pregnancy and when our children are young we band together with other women for safety. We cooperate; men compete. We negotiate; men state. Women create; men contend. We receive; men direct. Your best advantages are the female mind and your girlfriends. That is why all this instruction is so important; to develop that female mind to go with the female body to give you all the advantages being female offers.”

Mom paused to sip her drink exchanging looks with Judy asked me, “Does that make sense?”

I slowly nodded as I reviewed our conversation to date and replied softly, “Yeah it is starting to come together. Do you mind if I summarize what I think I have learned?”

Judy and mom nodded with Judy asking, “Atalanta you are already thinking like a woman. I bet you didn’t catch what you just did, did you?”

I shook my head confused. “You asked for permission or negotiated to summarize. That is a feminine response. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Please continue.”

“Well Judy you sort of summarized my summary by noting my question. If the big idea behind this training is developing automatic feminine instincts then my question and you’re pointing it out underscores that understanding. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” both women shouted gleefully.

“Good. Is it safe to assume you will want me to start implementing some of these strategies?”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“This one is the simplest,” I said indicating the box and gingerly picking it up, “but I’ll have to wait until I get stressed out to try it. The pills are for future reference.”

“As far as going on a date, I would rather see how that develops first. And Lindsey is already my best friend. But there is one part that disturbs me and that is the part about self-defense. It makes us out as victims or almost helpless. In fact, it makes my blood boil to even consider that because as Alan I was pretty laid-back, passive, and tolerant.”

“Dear it might be because now it is a possibility that it could happen to you, but as Alan it was very unlikely.”

I shook my head, “No that is part of it though, but it is more than that. It is just a feeling ... something just out of the blue, a feeling of strength, resolve, and anger at ... injustice.”

The meeting broke up soon after leaving everyone a lot to ponder especially me as I got undressed for bed in my flannel shirt and giving both mom and Judy a good night hug and peck on the cheek.

“Don’t you think you are being a little harsh with Atalanta? We are throwing an awful lot her way,” Judy whispered to Liz when they were alone.

“I don’t know maybe I am loading her down with too much information too soon,” Liz responded biting her lower lip.

“We are swimming in unchartered waters,” Judy conceded.

“That we are,” Liz agreed, “I don’t believe magic changelings was ever in our text books in college. But if Atalanta had grown up as a little girl some of what we have discussed she would have absorbed from girlfriends and her world organically. But my sexual health talks with her would have taken place anyway but over many months and not just a few weeks.”

“I agree with you she needs this information but at some point she will tire of the accelerated rate of learning that we are pushing at her and possibly resent us. I’d like for these Thursday dinners continue to be looked forward to,” Judy countered.

“I know,” Liz returned as an involuntary shiver sending its icy fingers up her spine, “I don’t want that either. I admit that I’ve been taking advantage of what I consider a small window of opportunity to influence her and to push the envelope. But I don’t want to push her away while I’m doing it.”

“Liz I know you have her best interests at heart; we both do but aren’t we pushing her too quickly into a date?”

“It’s not a real date,” Liz protested.

“It is to her,” Judy countered.

“She will naturally make friends with girls and learn all about girlfriend rules. I was concerned that she might bring a lot of baggage with her left over from growing up male.”

“What kind of baggage?”

“I assume Alan grew up viewing males as competitors and not as romantic interests and I was concerned that she would continue to hold those views; particularly after warning her about males and pregnancy.”

“Liz you may be right but you may also be wrong about that.”

“I know,” Liz conceded, “but I think she needs the experience and it’s a one off event. But I do feel that we should back off and use Thursdays for bonding and just talk about what comes up naturally.”

“I know it has been hard on you; you did lose a son,” Judy sympathized.

“I know and Alan lost a part of who he was but we both gained something in return. I guess in retrospect I was pushing both of us hard because down deep I didn’t want to confront who, the why, and the how of the transformation or the implications that those questions gives rise to. Nor the reality that event left us with.”

“Liz I feel you need to mourn the loss of your son.”

“Oh my god,” Liz exclaimed, “I’ve been dealing with Atalanta almost exactly as how I dealt with Alan.”

“And that was probably the best thing to do for both of you but now it’s time to be mother and daughter.”

“You’re right,” Liz replied walking Judy to the front door where they hugged and exchanged good nights.

“We talked about the “P” word,” I was telling Lindsey the next afternoon of the conversation from the night before with Liz and Judy. We were in her bedroom doing each other’s toenails with the same bright red enamel nail polish.

Giggling Lindsey exclaimed, “Would that be ‘Penis, Peter, Period, or Pussy.”

“No,” I snorted, “that would be “Pregnancy and Pills.”

Lindsey and her family knew about my transformation from male to female. “Wow,” Lindsey responded, “What brought that on?”

I giggled, “She wanted me to understand what my new role means now.”

“So does that mean you like boys?” She asked and added, “And have you picked out a nice cute one ... yet.”

I stuck my tongue out at her teasing; I had told her that I wasn’t even sure I liked boys that way. “No,” I replied and rolling my eyes, “She does want me to try dating though just to get the social experience.”

“Cool,” she replied, “We can double date.”

“Oh joy.”

“You girls about done,” Hannah asked from the doorway.

“In a minute ... mom,” Lindsey replied indicating our toenails.

Girls! She said that naturally, including me. But was I? That thought made me wonder; was being a girl a matter of looking and acting like a girl. Or was it ...

“What?” I asked.

“I said are you all right? You got a weird look in your eyes and zoned out,” Lindsey was saying.

I couldn’t really tell Lindsey what I was thinking at least not all of it. “It just struck me odd that I am a girl now when your mom said ‘you girls.”

“Well duh,” She replied playfully punching my arm, “you are dry,” indicating our artwork.

“So are you.”

“I gotta go. I am helping mom in the kitchen.” Hannah was the spa’s chef and Lindsey had her mom’s culinary talent.

“Me too,” I replied carefully stepping into my sandals, “I have a few minutes to spare and I believe I’ll have a look around.”

I wandered aimless not sure what I was seeking until I found myself outside the complex’s sightseeing services where the vehicles and animals were kept. I knew then what I needed to do and went inside the barn to find Ready, the filly I had been given. Ray, one of several attendants helped me saddle the horse and again showing me safely how. I felt confident that I could achieve that task but doing it seemed to make him happy.

After I had settled on her back he handed me a canteen of water and asked, “You got your phone?”

I shook my head and sheepishly replied, “It’s on the charger.”

He got one from the stand that held several of the shop’s walkie-talkie type phones. “Just-in-case; it’s something the owner implemented after one of the guests had some type of accident out there. It’s equipped with GPS tracking.”

I could feel my color rising at his words, “Thank you,” I replied taking the items and securing them to the saddle and in my pocket.

I clucked to my horse, “Let’s go, Ready.”

The filly seemed to know too where to go and without direction from me headed northwest before turning south and following a dim trail that lead across gullies and over rises in the landscape. Soon we stopped on a hill overlooking the trail that one version of me had went down and another version had emerged from.

As I stared down into the trail that led to fish bowl shaped enclosure I became aware of sights and sounds greatly magnified and processed through more than my five senses. Every rock, tree, and formation seemed hued at precise right angles and cut from massive and heavy minerals and wood. The sense was similar to the few times I had run a fever and hallucinated.

Ready snorted and pranced sideways, “Easy-easy does it girl,” I responded softly and I dismounted. I held her reins as I looked again at the panorama spread at my feet.

I stepped forward pulling a very reluctant filly down the bank and into the ancient wash. I edged forward ten feet-then twenty feet-thirty feet-until I stood beside the ancient twisted juniper that had marked where two and a half months earlier I had stood and taken an unknown trail. Every fiber in my being was screaming déjà vu.

Nevertheless, I remained still my curiosity running rampant. As I did I became aware of an ancient lodge or hogan and then the rhythmic beat of drums and the swaying chants which rose and fell in time with the drums.

I was at war with myself as my analytical brain was arguing with my mind that this wasn’t real and loosing because I was in my mind and not my brain. Alongside the chanting, the drums, and the structure, I began to sense a presence emerging. I got the sense it was several such presences and that as they gathered materials and moved about my mindscape that I was watching a ceremony.

I stood rooted to that spot for what seemed ages as I absorbed and observed this real/not real world opening up to me.

Finally the natural landscape became focused again as bit by bit the fantasy world receded leaving the number five imprinted on the blackboard of my mind.

Wordlessly I turned around leading the horse up and out of the depression we were in and headed for home.

I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and I welcome your comments and I will answer any questions I can. Thanks. Katelyn