Sacculina.
Chapter 3

LIST OF CHARACTERS

Charlotte The narrator (and sort of, heroine).
Jessica Charlotte’s Maternal Aunt.
Isobel Charlotte’s French long term friend.
Franchesca Charlotte’s Italian long term friend.
Jack American Gap-year student at the Faculty.
Pete American high school jock
Bill Pete’s crony also a macho high school jock.
Terry The supplier of the party music.
Bob Terry’s friend and owner of the pick-up truck.
Tom Arlott Jack’s dad.

We spent a wonderful weekend in Atlanta and I finally made my excuses before driving to South Carolina State University. Once settled into the University’s visitor block I commenced my testing programme and within a few weeks I had sufficient samples to run statistically safe tests. My researches caused considerable interest within the faculty for it dealt extensively with communicable, tropical diseases and their transmission vectors. The professor of the medical faculty even offered me a two-year readership and I was sorely tempted to take it. However, at that juncture, my researches were finished for then and I had a limited time window to attend to my other agenda. I now had a few weeks to seek out and hopefully punish the rapist who had so ruined my friend Franchesca’s life.
I had long ago researched his back-ground and where he now lived.

Because he belonged a powerful political family who maintained a high political profile, it was a formality to locate him. This done, I commenced a brief surveillance mode and by the second week, I had a rough outline of his habits and favourite hang-outs. In addition to the usual hangouts of a typical bored, rich kid; I learned that he also frequented the occasional seedier bars and dives. Maybe I can be accused of profiling but it was exactly what I anticipated.

Using my good looks to my advantage, I strolled into a bar where I expected to find him the following Tuesday afternoon. Lo, there he was, as large as life hugging a beer whilst sitting close to the till so as to easily catch the bartender’s eye.

As I entered, several pairs of eyes latched on to me but I ignored them all as I took a stool at the corner of the counter as far from my target as I could get. This made it obvious that I was not looking for company. Sadly however, a woman on her own is deemed to be fair game by most men, especially those that frequent bars in the mid-afternoon. Of course, this was exactly what I was depending on to carry out my plan as I ordered an unladylike beer.

I ignored the leers and hopeful smirks and stared directly down the bar focusing my attention on the bartender as he delivered my beer then returned to the till to cash the twenty dollar note.

By the time he’d returned with change, lover boy was already sliding off his stool in the time-honoured sleazy, hopeful manner. I waited until he was walking towards me then I stood up and made a beeline for a poorly lit booth at the far end of the bar.

This sudden act caught ‘lover-boy’ off guard and he had to turn about to approach me. As I sat down he loomed over my table.

“I would have bought that for you if you’d asked.”

I looked up and even with the poor lighting illuminating my face, it was obvious he had not recognised me.

“No thanks, I just came in for a cool drink.”

“A beer,” He observed with the suggestion of chauvinist disapproval in his tone.

“Yes, a beer, a long cool beer. It’s hot outside.”

“Are you not used to the heat then, are you not from around here?”

“No, I’m not from around here.”

“You sound English.”

I nodded as I took another slow sip from my glass.

He seemed to think my nod was some sort of ‘come-on’ and he placed his glass on my table as a sort of marker to claim what he seemed to think was his territory. I did not show any disapproval because I wanted to reel him in carefully. In fact, I wanted to befriend him and let Franchesca see what had happened to him after the parasite had altered his mind. To this end I took out my compact and started repairing imaginary damage to my lipstick. As I puckered my lips I gave him a brief little smile which I knew would be interpreted as a clear ‘come on’. He fell into my trap hook, line and sinker.

“D’ you visit these parts often?” He asked.

“No this is my first time but I’ll be visiting here more often now I’ve got some work here. Do you live here?” I added.

“Yes, ma’am born and bred South Carolina.”

“Oh. that’s nice, a real southerner.”

“Yes. indeed ma’am. Which part of England are y’ all from?”

“Oh, it’s just a small town near Birmingham.”

“What, like Birmingham Alabama?”

“Yes, same name, different country.”

“Your country has got a lot of towns with names like ours.” He observed.

I smiled again as I finished my glass.

“No. I think your country has got a lot of towns with names like ours. We had them first.”

His jaw sagged slightly then he smiled as he realised I was teasing him.

“What? Oh! Yes, of course, the old country and all. Here let me refill that for you.”

This was exactly what I had been hoping for. His glass was still pretty full but already he was trying the usual tactic. I protested mildly.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll be leaving shortly. I have an appointment at four and I only stopped by to have a cool drink.”

“But I insist, it just wouldn’t be hospitable for a southern gentleman to deny a lady a drink.”

“Oh, very well then; if you insist but you’d best make it a coke, I don’t want to smell like a brewery for my interview.”

“Okay,” he agreed and while he was getting the drink, I took full advantage of the poorly lit booth and emptied the phyle of tiny, alcohol resistant, mutated parasites into his beer. In the darkness they were invisible under the foam.

“Suck on that you rapist.” I told myself.

When he returned with the one drink I discreetly smelt it and detected the alcohol he had slipped into it. I wondered if he has also possibly drugged it as well.

“They never change,” I thought as I pretended to sip a drop then put it back on the table at my elbow.

“Bottoms up,” he tried to toast but I only raised my glass and took another false, ‘lady-like’ sip. I noticed him checking to see if I had drunk any substantial amount and I concluded he had slipped something else into my drink. Having concluded he had, I put the drink aside and we chatted a little longer whilst agreeing to swap phone numbers. All the time it was obvious by his posturing and barely concealed smirk that he was anticipating some sort of conquest. Be it with or without consent. Finally, at ten minutes to four I made my excuses and left to attend my phoney interview.

On the Friday I telephoned him to say I’d be returning to Atlanta and it would be nice to share a farewell drink. He told me he was feeling a bit ‘under-the-weather and I wondered if it was the after-effects of having swallowed the parasites that I had genetically modified.

“I’m feeling a bit crook,” he advised me, “my head is sore and my groin is a bit swollen not to mention I’ve got a temperature.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear that. If your groin is swollen it means you’ve possibly got an infection. Is there any discharge from your – you know – your penis?”

“No, nothing like that.” He sounded slightly offended by my question.

“Well. You’d best stay in bed for a day or so until your better. Do you want me to come around?” I asked pretending concern.

“Gosh no, it might be infectious.”

I was mildly impressed by his solicitousness.

“Okay then, well I’m back in town next Monday or Tuesday, I’ll call again then.”

“Yes. Please do. I should be over it by then.

With arrangements made, I returned to Atlanta for the weekend with Jack and his family.

The weekend stretched into the following Wednesday and it was Thursday before I returned to South Carolina. Once back at my visitor’s apartment in the college, I telephoned ‘Charles, the rapist.’

“Oh gosh! Where have you been?” The voice on the other end squeaked excitedly.

I held the phone away from my ear in surprise at the high-pitched girly response.

“Well I got a bit delayed, work and social stuff got entangled. So, how’s your fever by the way?”

“Oh, it’s much better. I’m just dying to see you, please, please come over.”

Naturally, I jumped at the offer because I was itching to see what changes, if any, had taken place. His responses and vocalisations on the phone intrigued me because they were distinctly feminine. I caught a bus into town and we met at the same bar. As I stepped through the door he rose to meet me and stretched out his arms to hug me with demonstrable affection. I smiled inwardly as I noted a distinct change in his demeanour as he spoke.

Ooh Charlotte, it’s lovely to see you again. What have you done to your hair?”

“I had it styled and some highlights put in. D’ you like it?” I continued to check if what I was hearing and seeing was definitely a feminising trend.

“Ooh yes darling. Those colours really suit your eyes. Where did you get it done?”

“Could this actually be the same vile serial rapist that had ruined at least two women’s lives and possibly more?" I asked myself.

I gave him the name of the hairdressers and he actually made a note of it on his mobile. Then he made a suggestion.

“This bar is a bit seedy, I think I prefer the café on the next block, shall we go there to chat over a coffee or something?”

Now I knew for sure that the Sacculina was affecting his brain. I could hardly believe my eyes or my ears! Gone was the typically crass attempt to get me drunk. I agreed to have a coffee with him and we walked briskly down the block to the café he had described. As we entered he smiled that typically feminine smile that women reserved for their female friends; a warm, open, invitation to share time together, to chat and exchange details.

“Let me get these and they can be the first of many, d’ you want tea or coffee?”

“Uuhm tea please but hot in a pot and with a jug of cold milk.”

“Ah, the English way; down here we usually drink iced tea.”

I smiled again and explained.

“Yes, but it’s our custom and habit to drink it hot. Back home it’s often cool and damp even in the summer. We call a hot cup of tea

‘The cup that cheers. I didn’t get your full name by the way.”

“What? Oh, it’s Charles, Charles David Rampton the third. We say that to distinguish me from my dad and my grand-dad.”

“So, your shortened cypher would be Chuck.”

“We-ell ye-es. But I think I prefer Charlie these days. Let’s take that seat by the window and watch the world go by.”

Now I knew for certain that Charles was becoming feminised, what I had not expected was the speed of the changes. We settled into our seats and he sipped delicately at his coffee while watching me pour the milk in first then add the tea and stir in the sugar.

“That’s fascinating. Almost like a Japanese tea ceremony.” He giggled and I could hardly believe my ears.

I asked myself if he could recognise the changes in his own behaviour but from the evidence before me, I was forced to conclude that somehow, he was blind to them.

‘Could my mutated Sacculina virus actually ‘zombify’ humans?’ I wondered.

As another test, I decided to repair imaginary damage to my lipstick as I had done the first time I had met him in the bar. On that first occasion he had simply watched me briefly before his interest had drifted from my mouth to my cleavage; this time though his interest was obviously concentrated on my lips.

“That colour suits you just perfectly what’s it called?”

I told him and he reached out. I passed it to him and he studied it intently before handing it back then asking somewhat shyly.

“What sort of lipstick would suit somebody with my colouring?”

I was taken aback by his forthright question, furthermore I did not have much of a clue about American brands and shades or colours so I explained whilst also testing his resolve.

“It’s impossible for me to tell here. The best way is to go to a makeup counter and try out some colours. The advisor will be more than willing to help.”

“Shall we do that now? If you’re going back to Atlanta tomorrow this may be the last chance for a while.”

I could not have refused even if I had wanted to. I was so taken aback by the speed of his mental feminisation that I couldn’t wait to find out about any physical developments. We chatted for a while as Charlie made some comments about passers-by, usually about their cloths or hair. After I had squeezed the last drop of the unexpectedly good tea from my teapot, Charlie paid for us and we walked down the street to a rather exclusive looking salon. Charlie paused briefly, then glanced questioningly towards me.

“What d’ you think?”

“It looks a bit expensive.”

“Oh tish! Darling, all the shops on this street are expensive. Come on let’s do it. I’m game if you are.”

I shrugged, smiled and reached for the quaint old door. Charlie almost skipped over the threshold and I caught the proprietor’s amused smile before she recovered her professional demeanour.

“Good afternoon madam, how can I help you?” She addressed me.

I decided to take the bull by the horns and be direct just to test Charlie’s resolve.

“It’s mainly for my friend here, he’s interested in suitable colours for his complexion.”

I had to admire the proprietor’s panache as she flawlessly turned her attention to Charlie.

“Well sir. What sort of make-up had you in mind?”

Without missing a beat, Charlie explained.

“I need advice about lipstick but now we’re here, maybe a few pointers about make-up as well.”

“Very good sir, or would you prefer madam?”

This bold question floored me, but it was obvious that the lady had sussed out Charlie’s feminised nature. I could hardly believe that the proprietor could be so forthright after having just met and exchanged a few short words. After receiving such a blunt question, I fully expected Charlie to falter because it was a direct challenge to his male persona. Instead, he plunged blithely on and I was finally
convinced that his mind at least, had been feminised. I secretly began to wonder about his body but for now it was fascinating just to watch how he relaxed as the proprietor set about testing several foundation creams after first preparing his skin with cleansing creams. Under her skilled administrations there soon began to emerge, a passable female countenance albeit sticking out of a male shirt. Finally, she selected several shades of lipstick and gave Charlie a choice.

“All these shades will suit you so do you want to apply your choice or shall I do it?”

Charlie then turned to me while holding three different brands of lipstick but all in very similar shades. For a moment my jaw worked desperately to recover its and my composure until finally I could speak.

“I, I, think all of them are just perfect darling;” ‘Did I just call him darling?’ I asked myself wonderingly; ‘Was his behaviour having that effect on me?’

I had to confess to myself his mannerisms and speech were just so feminine it was difficult not to respond to him as girl to girl despite the incongruence between his behaviour and his appearance.

Charlie stared undecidedly at the three lipsticks, shrugged and said.

“I might as well take all three and I’ll need some of those foundation creams and blushers. You’re going to have to help me here Charlotte; or if not you, then this lady here.”

He turned to the proprietor and gently touched her wrist in what could only be described as a feminine gesture. Indeed, the gesture was so feminine that the proprietor gently rested her hand on his as she guided him back to the counter. I was so flabbergasted that I just gaped stupidly and wagged my head slowly from side to side. I had to take a seat while Charlie indulged his burgeoning femininity and eventually we left with a complete, and very expensive make-up selection.

Outside I was in a bit of a quandary about what to do next. It was still afternoon and there was still plenty of shopping time but I certainly had no further plans to go shopping. However, that situation was taken from my control as I stood hesitating on the pavement
(sidewalk). Charlie had walked a few yards up the street and turned to look at a mannikin in a shop window. As he stood admiring it, I felt bound to ask his thoughts about it so I joined him. He turned and smiled at me as I stepped alongside him.

“D’ you like that dress?” He asked.

“Well, yes, I do actually but I had no intentions of shopping today.”

Charlie frowned slightly then grinned.

“Uuhm, I wasn’t thinking for you Charlotte, though I think it would suite you;” she blushed a bit self-consciously, “I was thinking for me actually.”

“You,” I responded, slightly hoarse with surprise. “Are you sure Charlie?”

“It’s a nice dress. I think it would work. Will you come in with me?”

I was almost inured to any further weird developments so I nodded because I was by now lost for words. She linked her arm through mine and almost dragged me inside.

For the second time that afternoon, another store proprietor pounced upon us but I had to explain discreetly that we were shopping for my ‘friend’. The proprietor’s eyebrows lifted momentarily before she smiled at me.

“Very well madam. I see your friend is already enamoured of the window dressing.”

I nodded a little self-consciously as the proprietor continued while Charlie had crossed to study the rack that held the same dress in different colours and sizes.

“Is he a transvestite?” She asked sympathetically, “we get several regular ‘girls’ who shop with me. I help with everything you understand, except shoes. Though my colleague across the street covers that department, larger shoes you understand.”
With that Charlie joined us with several variations of the mannikin’s dress and boldly asked.

“Can I try these on?”

“By all means Madam. The changing rooms are behind the sales desk. If your friend needs to help with changing, you’d best use the family cubicle?”

Charlie looked somewhat uncertainly at me before asking. “Would you be a sweet and help me?”

I hesitated before realising that Charlie had actually shrunk slightly during that very afternoon. Her male trousers and shirt were actually a little loose causing me to realise that there were now physical changes actually taking place as we shopped.

“My God!” I berated myself silently, “this parasite doesn’t half act quickly. I thought this stuff would have taken weeks if not months. The weird thing is that she seems to be oblivious to, or unperturbed by the changes. This must be another effect of the parasite affecting the host’s mind and behaviour.”

I followed Charlie into the changing cubicle while the proprietor stood by the sales desk ready to offer further assistance. At first Charlie turned her back to me as she unbuckled her trousers but their looseness caught her by surprise and they simply fell to the floor, but the bigger surprise was how her underpants followed them so easily and unexpectedly. Charlie made a grab for them but they were around her ankles before she had realised she was naked from the waist down.

“Oh!” She squeaked as she reached down to cover her nudity. “Help me!” she pleaded as she tried to cross her legs in what could only be described as the typically vulnerable posture of a woman caught naked.

For a moment I was caught unawares and at first I thought she was trying to set up a rapist trap before I realised hers was a genuinely feminine predicament.

“My God Charlie you’ve lost weight!” I observed whilst recovering my own composure enough to realise that any further remarks about her physical changes might cause her some sort of distress. “Wait here a moment while I talk to the proprietor. You’re going to need some new underwear.”

Charlie smiled somewhat uncertainly as she sat on the seat with her hands covering her genitalia.

“What size am I?” She asked plaintively through the curtain as I stepped outside.

“I’m going to need some help with my friend,” I advised the proprietor as I thought quickly on my feet.

“I think my friend’s hormone treatment has induced some other changes. Have you got some underwear?”

“Of course, my dear. What size is she?”

“That’s the problem, I’m not sure, she’s certainly lost weight.”

“D’ you want me to help?”

“Just a moment.” I replied as I realised I would have to check Charlie out.

I stepped back into the cubicle where Charlie had now removed her shirt and tee. She looked up hopefully as I stared with surprise at the perfectly formed globes on her chest. However, her legs were still crossed modestly so I was none the wiser as to the exact changes ‘down there’.

“My GOD Charlie! You’ve changed enormously since Costa Rica. Are you not worried or confused by it all?”

“I was at first,” she blushed and stared remorsefully at the floor, “I also felt huge guilt but I’ve done my punishment and now I’ve moved on.”

“But the changes, are you not embarrassed by – you know – those little beauties on your chest and any changes – you know – down there? Are you okay for the proprietor checking your size?”

She nodded uncertainly and looked up beseechingly.

“You’ll look out for me won’t you. Honestly, I’ve changed completely now. No more of that awful stuff. It was wrong, wrong, wrong!”

Having ascertained that Charlie was okay with being checked for clothing sizes, I stepped outside the door and invited the proprietor in with her tape measure. As she brushed past me I whispered in her ear.

“She’s more transsexual than transvestite so please don’t be offended by her body.”

The proprietor whispered back.

“I quite understand madam, I’ve got several other transsexuals as regular customers as well. Be assured madam, I’ve helped to measure and dress individuals like her before.”

“Thank goodness,” I reflected silently as the proprietor stepped inside and spoke softly to Charlie.

“Now Miss; may I call you miss?”

“Yes, yes by all means,” Charlie agreed as she visibly relaxed at the proprietor’s easy-going but professional approach.

“Good, now then, stand up Miss and we’ll have a better idea of what your size and shape is.” Your friend says your new to this, is she right?”

Charlie nodded and glanced nervously towards me so I smiled to reassure her.

“It won’t take long girl, just relax.”

As I reassured Charlie the proprietor started to briskly whisk the tape measure around Charlie’s now naked body. I got my first good look at Charlie’s newly changed anatomy and I was surprised yet slightly amused by the vestigial penis that now nestled snugly under Charlie's feminised tummy. It was smaller than the first joint of my forefinger and barely visible in the ‘camel-toe’ where her rounded thighs met a noticeable pair of labia lips. As to testicles, I saw no evidence of anything that could be taken for those primary engines of masculinity.

At this juncture, the proprietor was measuring Charlie’s inside leg and she smiled benignly as Charlie twitched lasciviously when the proprietor’s fingers held the tape against her ambiguous genitalia.

“Are you sensitive down there Miss.”

“Uh-huh!” Charlie almost croaked with lust as her knees sagged.

The proprietor ignored Charlie’s involuntary loss of decorum and quickly finished measuring Charlie’s upper parts.

“Well miss, you’re a nice shape and only slightly above average height. We’ll have no problem fitting you for underwear. Will it be just one set or are you envisaging kitting yourself out.”

“What do you think Charlotte?” Charlie asked me.

“Well it’s up to you darling. There’s some nice stuff here and you’ll have to dress appropriately if you’re going to get out of here.
You’ll also need shoes. I suggest getting a couple of dresses here along with a couple of changes of underwear.”

I could almost hear the proprietor’s lips smacking in anticipation of the sale she would make. Charlie nodded as she opined.

“Yes, let’s get two dresses and three sets of underwear. I like that dress in the window on the mannikin and perhaps the same type in blue.”

“Go for it girl,” I encouraged.

And she did.

After completing her clothing purchases Charlie chose to wear the blue version out into the street and I was forced to admit to myself that she looked okay. Walking bare footed across the street however looked slightly incongruous and she didn’t yet have a handbag either. The previous dress-shop proprietor had phoned ahead to the shoe shop and even as we approached, her friend and associate opened the door.

“Welcome ladies so my friend was right, very much a need for shoes I fancy.”

Charlie gave another beautifully feminine smile while I nodded confirmation.

“Walking out shoes for certain.” I confirmed “and perhaps a few heels for mood’”

The lady smiled as we quietly exchanged names and confidences while Charlie occupied herself with shoe selection.

“My friend across the street assured me that it would be a certain sale so take your pick.”

We exchanged knowing smiles as we watched Charlie trying on just about every shoe in the standard female sizes. It was now abundantly obvious that every aspect of her old male body had been feminised.

“It’s like having a teenaged daughter going to her first prom!” I whispered to the proprietor as the mood took hold of me.

The proprietor nodded agreement as she approached a besotted Charlie who was obviously having selection troubles.

“I love them all!” She squeaked plaintively.

The proprietor knew that Charlie’s purse was obviously a deep one from the advanced intelligence supplied from her dress-shop friend but she did not abuse that knowledge and moved to scale down Charlie’s reckless enthusiasm. For this I had to respect her. In the end, Charlie left with about five different styles plus the flatties for walking – not to mention several expensive matching handbags.

“Thank you so much ladies, do come again.”

I grinned at her as we left and she caught my drift as Charlie and I returned to the little café.

“So, what now?” Charlie asked as we chose a booth deeper inside the café to examine our booty.

“Well I’m bound for Florida darling. I’ve got business to sort out and decisions to make.”

“Are you driving down?” Charlie asked concernedly.

“Uuhm, no, I’m taking a city hopper then I’ll be staying at my aunt’s.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d stay the weekend.”

I noted the disappointment in her voice but re-iterated the importance of my business with my aunt.

“I’m sorry darling. Next weekend perhaps. It depends on Africa but I don’t expect any results for two weeks so I’ll possibly be free next week.”

“Oh, please do, it’s been so much fun this afternoon.”

Charlie’s hope burned bright in her eyes and I could not refuse her plea. Besides I wanted to see how things were working out because her physical feminisation was almost complete. I was interested to learn how she would be coping as a – by now – attractive female, but with a vestigial penis tucked away between two scrotal folds that had become outer labia lips. Coping with persistent overbearing males would be the real acid test.

During the week, I helped Aunt Jessica collate some research notes and secretly noted where her research was taking her. She seemed to be interested in castrating male cattle whilst inducing them to lactate thus doubling their usefulness as either beef or dairy
animals and subsequently doubling any livestock breeder’s earnings. I chatted at length with her about her work. It seemed she was currently working on neurological behaviour to remove the protective maternal instincts that drove a cow to only accept its own calf.
Strangely this propensity was not to be found in all mammals, indeed, even in lion prides, some females chose to hunt while others protected the cubs and nursed their sister’s young in addition to their own. Rabbits also nursed other related doe’s young if food was abundant. Aunt Jessica was researching the neurological and pathological factors that caused these differences. As I scanned the
notes, I privately made some notes of my own with a view to possibly inducing lactation in Charlie.
Any thoughts in that direction however had to be put on hold for I did not have a laboratory.

On the Wednesday I received a call from South Carolina; it was Charlie and a somewhat distressed Charlie at that.

“What’s wrong petal?” I asked.

“It’s my grandfather. They’ve banned me from visiting my family.”

“Can they do that?” I asked. “Surely it’s the family home and you still live there don’t you?”

“Well, not exactly. I’ve got my own apartment and a private income from my great grandfather’s estate. It’s not massive but it’s enough to keep me comfortable. The trouble is, I don’t get to see my younger sister’s new-born daughters and I had become so fond of them. She has few problems with Charlie but her husband’s a bit of a redneck as well. In fact, every man in the family is against
me now. They’re just not being fair. I’m only being true to myself.”

“But what about your past behaviour, you know the rapes and the prison stuff.”

I heard Charlie give a little sob before she replied.

“But that’s all behind me now. I realise I was a beast and I’ve done my time. It’s all so unfair. The men in my family actually preferred my beastly male persona despite all the awful stuff I did. I’m a reformed person now and a much nicer one but those bloody rednecks don’t see it that way. It’s just so unfair. I love my nieces but if I want to see them, I have to arrange a clandestine meeting with my sister. She’s the only one who accepts me. It’s just crazy. She hated Charles because of what he did but she wants to be best friends with Charlie.”

“Well that figures darling. Women do not like being raped you know and they don’t like the men who rape them.”

“Well obviously,” She sobbed again. “Of course, they don’t but I’ve changed, and changed for the better.”

“I know that, Charlie, and you know that; and obviously your sister knows that. Can’t you meet her outside the family, in a café or something.”

“Yes, I’ve arranged a meeting on Saturday. Can you come to keep me company?”

“I was coming up on Friday anyway. This Ebola type virus has re-erupted and they want me to do preliminary research work at South Carolina state, starting Monday. I need to find a flat.”

“A flat?” What’s that, have you got a puncture or something?”

I realised the word ‘flat’ was not well known across the pond so I corrected myself.

“Sorry, I mean apartment, somewhere to live.”

“I’ve got a spare room with its own bathroom.” Charlie offered.

I was a bit cautious about her offer but decided it was worth a look. Besides I could kill three birds with one stone, check the apartment, meet Charlie’s sister and check out Charlie’s feminisation progress. Friday noon found me stepping off the city hopper and taking the airport bus into town. Charlie met me downtown and drove me directly to her apartment. When we got there, it was obvious that Charlie’s sister and two little nieces had already arrived. We were introduced and it was obvious that the little girls were absolutely besotted with their new aunt. They crawled all over her for a good five minutes before returning to their toys. We three adults spent time chatting and getting acquainted.

“So how did you meet my bro- sorry, sister?” Patricia asked.

“I was a bit embarrassed to reveal at first but she nodded knowingly and answered her own question.”

“Oh, the costa Rica business, was it?”

I was beginning to wonder if this woman actually lived in the real world but I avoided giving it to her with both metaphorical barrels. Instead I tried engaging in a ‘polite conversation.’

“Sadly yes. I’m glad to say things have moved on.”

“Well so am I, Charles was a hateful bully but now – well. You can see for yourself.”

‘Hateful bully!’ I almost choked on the understatement. ‘As a man, Charles had been a bloody rapist; a destroyer of women’s lives!’

I almost had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from flying off the handle and saying something I might regret. It seemed as if Charlie’s sister had been living in some sort of genteel cocoon of wealth and privilege.

I nodded, and implied ignorance with a shrug of incomprehension before turning to Charlie and adding.

“I don’t know what’s happened, but you’re a better girl for it, don’t you agree Charlie?”

She nodded a bit self-consciously as her eyes cast down to the floor.

“There’s no need to be ashamed Charlie,” Patricia observed. “Your friend Charlotte is quite right, Viv-la-change.”

I said no more about Charles’s past and deftly moved the conversation on by asking Patricia about her charity work. She spoke at length about her projects and suggested that Charlie might now be better employed in helping her with the homeless hostels instead of living like a ‘Chelsea Buck’. I felt compelled to agree and to Patricia’s delight, Charlie agreed with certain reservations.

“I’d prefer to be working with the girl’s hostel; I wouldn’t feel safe with men around at night.”

I smiled inwardly as I reflected to myself.

“You’re learning Charlie, you’re learning.”

As I cogitated, Patricia explained.

“Charlie’s already had a nasty experience as a girl. Show Charlotte your arm dear.”

Charlie glanced nervously to the floor again before unbuttoning her loose blouse sleeve and revealing some nasty bruising on her forearm.

“I never realised we girls bruised so easily and the pain! It was unbearable. Fortunately, it was outside the club and the bouncers
rescued me but he’d already nearly paralyzed my arm. It was horrible!” She confessed as tears slowly began to leak.”

I was secretly happy that she had received such a powerful lesson but I kept my counsel and instead, I reached out to give her a hug. Despite having put her in this vulnerable situation I still could not ignore my feelings of empathy for the now feminised woman. She sagged slightly into my arms and the tears began to flow freely. As she pressed her face into my shoulder Patricia caught my eye and nodded knowingly. I grasped the jist of her observation and nodded knowingly back.

‘Charles would never be a danger to women again.’

After a respectable couple of minutes comforting the distraught Charlie I dug out a tissue from my hand-bag and suggested she go and repair her make-up.

She stood back and searched my face whilst declaring.

“I just wonder how girls like you find the courage to travel alone and work in isolation in places like Africa. You must be frightened all the time!”

“It can be frightening sometimes Charlie,” I agreed, “but I keep my wits about me all the time; as you will have to do from this time forward.”

Charlie swallowed fearfully and shuffled despondently into the bathroom to attend to her tearstained make-up. I turned to Patricia.

“She’s learned her lesson I think.”

Patricia frowned thoughtfully before declaring.

“It still puzzles me as to how my brother changed so completely in so short a time. I mean he – or as I am now compelled to say; she has become almost a typical woman except for that single large detail.”

“Do you mean the physical changes, the boy parts?” I asked.

“Well, frankly yes. I haven’t seen it but from what she tells me –.”

I grabbed the bull by the horns and declared with a grin.

“Well, always remember, I had to help her choose her first dress and her new underwear. I have seen ‘it’ as you delicately describe it and I can assure you. ‘it’ is no longer a large detail.”

As I spoke I crooked my little finger and wiggled it in the universal girl sign for a ‘small winkie’. Patricia’s eyes widened with amusement as she almost choked in her endeavours not to burst out laughing.

“Oh! Ha-ha! Good gracious Charlotte! Ha-ha! You’re terrible!” She managed to declare between strangled gasps.

Finally, the dam broke and she slumped helplessly in the armchair as laughter wracked her body. She was still heaving with mirth as Charlie re-emerged with her face repaired.

“What’s the joke?” She asked.

“Oh, nothing you’d appreciate darling,” I reassured her, “just a bit of girl talk.”

“Well you can tell me now, I am a girl.”

‘Are you?’ I asked myself as I decided to reinforce her angst.

“Oh, indeed you are girl, and a very pretty one at that. Just remember that next time, before you choose to walk alone into a lonely parking lot or darkened street.”

Charlie’s expression clouded with fearful realisation as she contemplated her future as a faux-female. Not only would she have to contemplate the every-day risks attached to being a girl, but she would have that dreadful added component of always living ‘on the edge’; wondering if any decent man she met and became attracted to, not to mention any predatory scum, might not take umbrage if or when her true circumstance was revealed.

These dark thoughts must have pre-occupied Charlie’s mind because she did not pursue the question of Patricia’s and my earlier laughter and she remained fairly subdued for the remainder of our meeting.

‘Chew on that!’ I thought to myself as we finally parted ways.

The following morning, I spoke to Franchesca in Italy and listened with a happy heart as she spoke to me whilst scolding her children to behave. It was lovely to once more hear her earthy liberated laughter as I gave her the news about her rapist.

“Are you serious?” She finally managed to choke out between gasps of laughter. “You say he’s a’ changed into a girly boy?”

“Yes. Even his voice has been raised an octave and he’s smaller and lighter. He’s only about one point six five metres tall.”

“What about his dirty bits?” She demanded to know.

“Even better news,” I confirmed, “His testicles have gone and his cock is smaller than a thimble. It’s like a clitoris but exposed outside his labia instead of being tucked away.”

“He must be horrified!” Franchesca opined with a delighted squeal.

“Seemingly not. Despite the enormous changes, his girly mindset seems to have taken it all in her stride.”

“So how did it happen? What caused it?” Franchesca demanded.

“Nobody knows,” I lied. “It all happened within a couple of weeks and he went from macho, rapist pig to giggling, simpering bimbo.”

I had to wait a couple of seconds for Franchesca to recover from another fit of laughing, then we talked at length for ten minutes before Franchesca’s motherly duties dragged her from the phone to separate her squabbling children.

Two days later I was contacted by the world health foundation and asked to attend my old clinic in Central Africa. The outbreak looked as though it might go global. All thoughts about Charlie were put aside as I boarded a plane for Europe where I would change for a flight to Africa. Things looked interesting and uncertain for the immediate future.