The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 10

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I quickly remove my traitorous arms from around his neck and duck into the house. OMG! What did I just do?

Wednesday Jan 4, Day 10

It is really hard to get out of bed this morning. I had a restless night with a myriad of disturbing dreams that I’d just as soon forget for now. Most of them involved Sam.

It had taken me almost an hour to get ready for bed last night.

With dire warnings from Celeste, Anita, and Joanna echoing in my mind about the nasty effects of going to bed with my makeup on I had to take the time to remove my war paint. I also had some unusual clothing layers to remove and gently put away before attempting to put my hair into a loose braid for the night.

It felt particularly good to remove my bra and forms. My chest was itching like crazy and the breast forms were in the way of relieving the itch. I couldn’t help but notice the slight swelling starting behind my enlarged areolas.

I already miss the days of kicking off my shoes, stripping down to my underwear, throwing my clothes on the chair, and falling into bed.

The good thing about being a woman, however, is the warm comfy flannel nightgown. The cozy feel of the night dress is almost enough to keep me in bed for the rest of the day.

After shutting off my morning alarm, I lay in bed for a few moments taking inventory of my changing body. As I explore my chest, I am not the least bit surprised to find a small pair of female breasts.

Moving lower across the soft smooth skin of my belly, I find that my penis is now only about an inch long. Reaching past that, my scrotum seems to have shrunk into a semblance of female labia. There is no vaginal opening. Yet.

My bladder makes its presence known and urges me out of bed. Sitting down to pee, I realize that the stream is coming out a new place just below what’s left of my penis. I definitely won’t ever pee standing up again.

When I turn on the shower to warm up, I find a new shower cap hanging from a hook in the shower. I struggle to get all my hair in it but appreciate not having to deal with wet hair this morning.

Standing naked in front of the mirror after my shower, I cannot find any boy left in me. Newly acquired are two perky, but small, breasts and a definite set of starter curves. Turning to look at my rear end, I see that padded panties won’t be needed any longer. My breasts, curves and butt can stand to be filled out more, but they are definitely there. The shape that I see in the mirror is only found on the female of the species.

I head back to my room wondering what outfit mom will choose for me today. As expected, I find a new outfit on the bed along with today’s note.

Dearest Karla,

Your father and I are so happy with how well your date went last night. Sam is a great guy. You should keep in touch with him. Karen is very happy to see him smiling again.

As you have noticed, your transformation is almost complete. And so is your starting wardrobe.

Tomorrow we will tie up most of the loose ends and Friday it will come together on the day of Epiphany.

Your connection with your new self yesterday was a big step. It shows that you have accepted your new fate. This is important.

We know that your life has been hectic the last week, but don’t neglect your exercise. There are some yoga videos in the den. Try one out!

Have a fantastic day and let the world see the love and beauty in your heart.

Love always, Mom and Dad

P.S. Be open with the reporter today. He will write an article that will be very much in your favor.

The clothes today are very similar to yesterdays. The difference being a light lavender colored blouse instead of the white one with a matching black lingerie set consisting of a low-rise panty and a bra that appears to be padded, without silicone inserts. When I pull on the pants, I notice the hem dragging on the ground until I step into the new pumps with a three-inch square heel. As I complete the ensemble, I notice that the pants and blazer are tailored to show off my new feminine assets.

In the master bedroom, I find an array of cosmetics laid out for my use. Remembering my lessons from yesterday, I inexpertly apply the products. I even give myself a spritz of the perfume that the ladies put on me for last night’s date.

Picking up a hair brush I enjoy watching myself stroke my hair and decide to leave it loose today but set aside a hair clip and hair ties to go into my purse, just in case. Also on the vanity are my topaz necklace and a couple of bracelets that I put on. A very feminine watch is the last touch.

It is almost time to leave for work when the text group reminds me to send a picture of today’s note and gifts.

I send an image of the note and a full body selfie to the group.

Me: I have breasts, a butt, and curves. They are small but there.

Jane: No padding or silicone?

Me: No. It’s all me today, but the tag on the bra said it was a Wonderbra. Seems to enhance my new assets.

Anita: Any changes down below?

Me: Almost like yours without the opening.

Anita: Sam is getting ready to leave. He looks very happy. Good date?

Me: Great. Give him a hug for me and ask him to let me know when he gets there.

Joanna: Want to get together for lunch?

Jane: No kids in school yet. Sure, I can be there.

The rest quickly agree.

----<0>----

“Good morning, Miss Bronson,” Theresa cheerily greets me as I enter the office. She is at the reception desk this morning when I arrive at work. “You look very nice this morning. Very professional.”

“Good morning, Theresa, thank you,” I smile back at her. “I love your top this morning. Did your date go well last night? Oh, and you can call me Karla. We’re not that formal around here.”

Her grin gets bigger, “We had a great time, Karla! Isn’t the Carriage House the best?”

We chat about our respective dates for a few minutes before Celeste appears and she gives me a critical appraisal of my appearance. I think that my makeup skills earned a grade of B at best.

“Mr. Sanderson is looking for you,” Celeste says. “You should stop in to see him, Miss. Bronson.”

Theresa gives me a question look about the formal names. I just smile and shrug.

----<0>----

I find Jim going through some papers on his desk. He is not in a good mood.

“Before Christmas,” he growls, “you used to the first one in office. Now you saunter in late chatting with the ladies. Is this a new trend?”

“Things are in a state of flux right now,” I shrug off his complaint. “When I get this girl gig down, I should get back to my normal early arrival routine. At least I hope so.”

He scowls, “About that, it is probably not safe for you to be the only one in the building anymore. Be careful.”

“What do you really want to see me for?” I ask.

“You are not going to be pulling anything out of your bra today, are you?” He continues to scowl. “That stunt yesterday ended up costing me the afternoon. Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to fire someone?”

“No worries about that,” I smile, “this is all me today. I woke up this morning to breasts, an expanded rear end, and some basic curves.” I do a twirl for him. “What do you think?”

“No way,” he exclaims as he looks at me closely. “My teenage daughter used to complain that it took her almost a year in training bras before she graduated to the real thing. You got yours overnight?”

“I’ve become almost a woman in less than two weeks,” I shrug. “so breasts overnight is no big deal. My whole transition should be complete sometime tomorrow, I am told.”

“Anyway,” he gets to the point of our visit, “I think that we need a head shot of your new look on our website ASAP. I asked Celeste to arrange for a photographer to come by this morning.”

I tell him about my interview with John this afternoon and he agrees that it is a good idea. He suggests that I have him come interview at the office where we can arrange for him to talk to some of the people who had been at the infamous meeting.

Why didn't I think of that?

I call John and he is thrilled with the access. He promises to come over this afternoon.

Jim and I spend the next half hour working out some more of the details associated with starting up the new structural department.

The rest of the morning before the photo shoot, I try to spend at my design cubicle getting some actual work done. An unusual number of women stop by to chat for a few minutes each.

I have to call an architect to discuss a detail on a small building that we are working on together. He does not recognize my voice, so I have to reintroduce myself. It turns out that he had heard some misinformation about yesterday’s meeting, so I have to set him straight before we get down to business. From what he tells me, rumors of my transition are working their way through the professional community, and the rumors are not often accurate.

I am suddenly very glad that John will be publishing that article this weekend. I wish that it was sooner.

----<0>----

The photo shoot goes longer than I would have liked. The photographer has brought lights and a makeup artist with him, and she fusses over my face before and during the shoot. She also applies a curling iron to my hair to add some body and create waves. We get shots in the conference room, in my administrative office with my diploma in the background and outside in front of the office building. The photographer insists that the outside shots be done without my warm coat.

Damn it is cold!

As we are wrapping up the photo shoot, the photographer asks me if I would be interested doing a little modeling on the side. Something about my classic beauty being natural for the camera.

I am flattered, but the thought of being a model has never crossed my mind. I think that it would be a distraction that I don't need so I tell him that I already have a job, so probably not.

He counters that he can work around my engineering schedule if need be. Apparently he has a client for whom he thinks my look would be perfect for.

To avoid further pressure, I tell him that I'll think about it.

The long and short of the matter is that the photo shoot has made me late for lunch. The others have already ordered by the time I get there.

“Sorry ladies,” I apologize as I hang my coat over the back of my chair. “Very busy morning.”

“Look at you!” Anita smiles at me, “Do a spin for us before you sit down.”

I do, running my hands down my sides to emphasize my new curves.

“If this keeps up,” Joanna mutters, albeit with a little smile, “I could get jealous. You are starting to look pretty hot, my friend.”

The waitress shows up as I sit down, and I order a cranberry salad and an ice tea.

Jane looks closely at my face, “Did you do your makeup and hair this morning? It looks very professional, if not a little over done.”

“No,” I smile, “It was done by a professional. I just finished a photo shoot.”

“You are taking up modeling now?” Anita looks confused. “All you tall skinny girls get the best jobs. I could start to hate you. When did this happen?”

“I am not modeling,” I assure them. “Jim wanted some new publicity photographs given my change in status.”

“Well,” Joanna drawls, “If engineering doesn’t work out, maybe you can try modeling.”

“And soon,” Jane adds, “Youthful beauty doesn’t last.”

“Knock it off ladies,” I blush. “Any of you would be chosen to model before me.”

Anita, who is just sipping her drink, starts coughing, “Yeah, right. Are you blind? I swear that you’ve been taking some kind of magic potion. You get prettier every day and put the rest of us plain women to shame.”

“You ladies are certainly very attractive,” I correct her, “You and Joanna should try wearing the necklaces that mom gave you. Mine has certainly made a difference.”

“That’s what I am afraid of,” Joanna points out. “I like being a woman. I fear that it is a gender switcher.”

“Maybe it is just a feminizer,” I offer. “Since I didn’t start out female, I had to change for it to work for me.”

Joanna doesn’t look convinced.

“So,” Jane changes the subject, “No silicone or padding today?”

“Nope,” I grin, “this is all me, with a little help from a padded bra.”

“Small but functional,” Joanna comments.

“Hey,” I say, “I know it took you ladies longer that a day to grow yours. Give me some time. Maybe I will catch up to you.”

Jane looks down at her well-endowed D sized chest.

“Well,” I grimace. “Maybe not as big as yours.”

“Bryan likes them,” Jane smiles and admits, “But they are a pain to carry around. C would be optimal.”

“And down below?” Anita prompts.

“Flat,” I blush. “Well almost, there is still a very small vestige of my old ‘joystick’. Last I checked this morning, there are lips but no opening. I expect that to change by tomorrow sometime. My urethra has changed location too.”

“You seem pretty happy about that,” Jane observes.

“I have to admit,” I say, “that I am tired of being halfway in between. Also, I like mirrors a lot more now. I am finding femininity fascinating.”

“Oh no,” Joanna says in mock horror. “Your mother has turned you into a narcissistic nymph.”

I stick my tongue out at her, which earns giggles all around the table.

I proceed to update them on the change in plans with John, how he is coming to the office for interviews today. I also tell them about my conversation with the architect who told me that rumors were spreading within our professional community.

“The community grapevine is alive and well,” Jane informs me. “My neighbor asked me this morning as I was leaving for work if I had heard about the lewd transgendered engineer.”

“This is why you need to make sure that John gets the real story out in a manner that accurately reflects the situation,” Joanna points out. “Unfortunately, I am tied up in a deposition this afternoon and can’t make it, but I would really like to talk to him.”

“And Jane and I have an in-service training the rest of the afternoon,” Anita looks apologetic, “or I would be there too.”

“I think that he still wants to come by the house and get the grand tour and timeline,” I mention. “Why don’t you come over when you can?”

“I want to be there too,” Jane declares. “I will make sure that Bryan collects Amy after work. He can treat her to McDonalds and have some quality father/daughter time.”

“I am sure that I saw an eggplant parmesan in the freezer,” I tell them, “And there is some good wine in the fridge. We’ll make a dinner of it.”

“I will pick up some French bread,” Anita offers.

“I will pick up a pre-made salad,” Jane announces.

“I will find a dessert,” Joanna states.

“Oh,” I grin at them. “You all saw mom’s note. Bring your yoga stuff. We’ll have to work off our dinner.”

They all groan.

“Now for the important stuff,” Anita says enthusiastically. “We want all the dirt on your date with Sam.”

I spend the rest of the lunch answering their questions about my time with Sam. I don’t share with them the note that Sam received from Karen. I try to ignore the good night kiss too.

“So,” Joanna wanted clarification when I start to wrap up in the story, “You pulled the ‘let’s just be friends’ routine on him?”

“Yes,” I affirm. “My situation needs to sort itself out before I can contemplate forming a romantic relationship with anyone, man or woman. I don’t know where my sexuality stands.”

“And he still wants to stay in touch?” Anita asks.

“And you want to stay in touch with him?” Jane smiles knowingly.

“Sure,” I reply mystified as to where this is going.

“Did he walk you to the door?” Jane asks.

“Yes,” I am starting to see where this is going. “He is gentleman as well as a friend.”

“And he kissed you,” Anita accuses with a smile. “Didn’t he?”

My blush tells all.

“And you liked it,” Jane observed.

“Did you kiss him back?” Joanna continues the inquisition.

I can only nod affirmatively. I want to disappear.

“Well,” Joanna looks at our other two lunch companions then back at me. She concludes, “the jury returns the verdict that you are now a heterosexual woman.”

I make a show of glancing at my feminine watch.

“Oh, look at the time. Gotta run. Don’t forget your yoga clothes.” I say as I quickly stand up and pull on my coat.

“Chicken,” Joanna grins at me. “We will continue this interrogation tonight.”

Digging through my unfamiliar purse, I find some cash and drop it on the table to pay for my lunch.

“Bye,” I give them a finger wave and hurry for the exit as fast as my heels will allow.

----<0>----

Back at the office, I wave at Theresa as I head to the women’s restroom to do what women do there after dropping my coat in my office.

Yes, this is my first trip into this particular room. Fortunately, it is empty as I duck into a stall and sit to do my business. Wiping afterwards, I notice that, what had been my penis is only a nub, like an enlarged clitoris. I don’t see any evidence of it when I pull my panty up. This is going to take some getting used to.

While I am in the stall, two women enter the restroom but don’t head for stalls. They aren’t chatting either. After rearranging my outfit, I exit the stall to find both ladies leaning up against the counter obviously waiting for me. They must have seen me duck into the restroom.

“Hello, Rachel, Allison,” I nod at the women as I head to the sink to wash my hands.

“Hello Karl,” Allison returns the greeting and asks sounding genuinely curious, “Is it really true that you are turning into a woman?”

“What do I look like to you?” I ask.

“You showed us what you can do with padding and silicone yesterday,” Rachel reminds me. “Maybe it is all an illusion.”

“Ladies, you were around all week last week,” I sigh, “Take a closer look, did my face look like this? Was my hair this long? Were my shoulders this slender? Didn’t I weigh more? And, by the way,” I lift both breasts, “they may not be much, but they are all me today.”

“What about down there?” Rachel is curious, glancing at my crotch.

“As of this morning,” I blush, “I look just like you. There is nothing extra in my panties. I just don’t have a vaginal opening yet. I suspect that that issue will be resolved sometime tomorrow."

“Really?” Allison says with some disbelief. “That just can’t happen without surgery.”

“I would have agreed with you a couple of weeks ago,” I agree with her. “But I am living it. It is hard to ignore the evidence. The only explanation I can come up with involves a supernatural influence. Do you have a better explanation?”

They both still had unsure looks on their faces.

“What did my chest look like yesterday after I took out the breast form?” I ask.

“We didn’t get a good look,” Allison admits, “but from where I sat, it looked like you were flat chested.”

“I was,” I tell them. “You don’t have any recording devices going do you?”

They shake their heads in the negative.

“Let me see your phones,” I demand.

They extract their phones from their purses and show them to me. I have them put their phones on the sink counter as I unbutton the top couple of buttons on my blouse.

“This is a one-time offer,” I inform them. “We are all women here, mostly, so I will prove that my breasts are the real deal. They were, as you just recalled, non-existent yesterday. In exchange, you have to agree to simply testify to anyone who says otherwise that my breasts are real. You can even tell them that I showed you. Do we have a deal? If not, you can join me at the gym locker room this weekend and watch me get into my gym clothes.”

They looked at each other for a second before agreeing to the deal.

I lean forward and pull the top of my bra out sufficiently for them to see my two small mounds of flesh cupped in the bra.

“Go ahead,” I challenge them, “touch and tell me if that is silicone or something else.”

Both of them tentatively stroke a breast with a finger, causing me to jump. “That tickles.”

Both have the decency to blush.

“Are they real?” I ask them.

“You convinced me,” Rachel admits, “they are real. And you are telling us that you grew those overnight?”

“They weren’t there yesterday,” Allison points out for me.

“Damn,” Rachel says with a pout, “And it took over a year for mine to get that big once they started growing. That is just so unfair.”

Allison and I can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe they will be the same size as yours tomorrow,” I grin.

“Sorry to doubt you, Karla,” Allison apologizes, “but you have to admit that this is all hard to believe.”

“It is that,” I agree as I put myself back together. “No more peep shows though. You are my witnesses if anyone expresses doubts. I have all same the curves and external body parts that any woman in this office has. I can never go back to using the male facilities, don’t you think?”

With that, I wash my hands once more while they pick up their phones and we get back to work.

I decide to work in the privacy of my administrative office.

----<0>----

I am actually doing billable work when Celeste comes for me after the reporter arrives.

“I can’t believe your audacity,” she shakes her head in disapproval. “Did you really show off your breasts in the ladies’ room? Word of your latest stunt has spread throughout the office. Allison and Rachel both swear that it really happened. I just pray that no one videoed it. Please don’t strip down and waltz naked through the office as your next trick.”

I just grin at her, “I made sure that their phones were off, and on the counter where I could see them. They were still unbelievers but now they are converts. They are my witnesses to the miraculous overnight growth of my breasts.”

“Well,” she huffs, “they are definitely converts. They are your two greatest supporters in the office at the present time. Anyway, your reporter showed with his editor in tow. They are waiting for you in the conference room. Please keep your hands out of your bra. I would lock up my daughters if they pulled stunts like that.”

I stop by the ladies’ room to check my hair and makeup before proceeding to the conference room.

Fortunately, there is no one in the restroom to ask for further proof of my transformation.

----<0>----

Entering the conference room, I find Jim chatting with John and a thirty something woman. The woman stares intently at me as I make my way into the room.

“I am glad that you could join us, Karla,” Jim says with a touch of sarcasm.

“Sorry,” I apologize, “I just found out that you were here.”

John stands up to shake my hand, “Well, Karl, you have certainly changed since I last saw you at the New Year’s party. I have to say that you look like your sister, if you had one. The resemblance to your former self is very strong.”

“It is good to see you too, John,” I say. “thank you for taking the time.”

“Karl,” he introduces me to his companion, “I’d like you to meet Anne Barnes, our business editor.”

Turning to Anne, I shake her hand, “Pleased to meet you Ms. Barnes.”

She acts a little distant, but is cordial enough, “Please to meet you too, ah, Karl, or is it, Karla?”

I shrug as I find a seat at the table, “Legally, I am Karl, but the name doesn’t fit me anymore. The guests at my bowl party last Monday took a poll and decided that Karla is currently a better fit. Once my transformation is complete, probably tomorrow, I will work on legally changing my name to Karla. My parents approve.”

“I thought your parents died in a car accident a year ago,” Anne questions me. “I remember editing an article about the impact of your father’s death on the firm he founded.”

“That’s very true,” Jim adds “That is one of the very strange things about this whole mess. Karla, why don’t we start with your presentation to the office yesterday?”

“Oh yes,” John says enthusiastically, “I think that meeting is going to be a legend. I showed the video to Anne, by the way.”

I blush, “Ms. Barnes…”

“Please,” she stops me, “Anne works better.”

“Thank you, Anne,” I then continue “That video was way out of context. Ask anyone who was there, except maybe Carlos.”

Over the next half hour, I reprise my presentation and show them images of all the notes - except Saturday's! - that I have received to date and images of the ‘gifts’ left behind. I also chronicle the daily physical changes that I have experienced, going into far more detail than I did yesterday.

“This is all extremely hard to believe.” Anne frowns. “I came along with John because I want to make sure that the paper is not embarrassed by an elaborate fraud. If this is all true, it makes for a great story, but if we publish it and find out later that it is fraud no one would ever trust the paper again. What can you do to convince me?”

“What we want is to control the narrative,” Jim points out. “We want the truth to be out there for all the world to see in an effort to stem malicious misinformation that will harm our firm and Karla. What will it take to convince you that this is not a hoax?” Jim asks the question that is on my mind.

“Physical evidence of some kind, witnesses to the ongoing changes, competent medical opinion,” She lists her requirements.

“I am not sure what physical evidence we can provide,” I think out loud, “except possibly myself. I have been taking selfies every morning which document the daily changes. Witnesses to my slow transformation are plentiful. In fact, when you come to the house when we are done here, I have three girl friends that have been close to me through the change that will be there to talk to you. In the meantime,” I look to Jim for agreement, “There are a couple of hours left in the workday. You could wander through the office and pick anyone you want to interview. Many of them were out on vacation last week, so your best bet are people that have been here since Christmas.”

Jim nods his agreement. "We'll put out an announcement to the office that you will be interviewing."

“What about medical evidence?” John asks.

“When I noticed things changing, I went to see my family physician, Dr. Lake, twice last week,” I tell him. “He ran a whole bunch of tests. He found that I was male to the chromosome level but that my blood work was unexplainably consistent with that of a mid-20s female. He noted significant physical changes between the visits that indicated that I might be changing gender. After reviewing my mother’s notes, he decided that the changes were outside his ability to reverse. We made an appointment for Friday morning, the day that the notes indicate as the conclusion of the transformation process, to document the full extent of my changes. I can authorize him to talk to you about my condition, if that helps, but we are not scheduled for the full exam until Friday.”

“You are certainly being free with your private information,” Anne observes.

“Since I have not done any thing wrong, I have nothing to hide,” I look her in the eye. “What is happening to me is beyond anyone’s control. I need to get that message out before some bigoted idiots damage our firm’s reputation.”

“Not to mention your own,” she adds.

Anne and John take full advantage of the remaining workday to interview our staff. We agree to meet at my house when they are done there. They accept my invitation to join my friends and I for a working dinner out of the freezer. I tell them that dinner will be informal as the ladies and I are planning on doing yoga this evening. I jokingly offer to let them join us if they want to.

----<0>----

I am running a little late by the time I arrive at my house. The three ladies are already there putting together the dinner when I walk in the door. After a hug from each, I am told to go slip into something more comfortable.

“I can’t wait to get out of this bra,” I complain, “It was loose this morning, but now I feel like I am overflowing the cups.”

“Our little girl is growing up,” Anita teases me with a smile.

“And fast,” Joanna adds melodramatically, “How quickly the years pass.”

I, maturely, stick my tongue out at them.

“I believe your mother has been here,” Jane laughs at our antics. “Someone has laid out some exercise clothes for you upstairs. Go change, they will be more comfortable than what you are wearing.”

“Set the table for two more,” I call to them as I ascend the stairs as fast as my heels will allow. “John and his editor will be here soon.”

A quick look in my bedroom shows only a neatly made bed and tidy room. I wonder if mom will continue to clean up after me when the changes are complete. The maid service is much appreciated.

The aforementioned clothes I find laid out on the bed in the master bedroom.

I kick off my shoes and carefully remove my work clothes and hang them in the walk-in closet. With a sigh of relief, the bra finally comes off.

Yes, the girls have grown today. Turning to look at my butt, I am pretty sure that it is even more feminine this evening.

Standing in front of the mirror, wearing only my panties and necklace I am mesmerized by the beautiful young woman smiling back at me. There is no sign of Karl, only the very attractive Karla. I find that I like what I see.

“Do I detect some narcissism?” Jane playfully asks as she walks into the room unannounced.

“Eek!” I squeak in surprise, reflexively covering my breasts. “You scared me!”

She laughs, “There’s nothing here that I don’t see every day. I thought that you might need some help with the exercise clothes. I know that this is all new to you.”

“Excuse me,” I apologize feeling a sudden pressure in my bladder, “I really need to pee.”

As I duck into the en suite bathroom and close the door, Jane calls out to me.

“I am guessing that your mother didn’t teach you much about feminine hygiene.”

“The subject never came up,” I admit through the door as I quickly drop my panty and sit quickly on the throne. The relief is instantaneous as the flow starts.

Calling through the door, she instructs me, “There is an unpleasant situation called yeast infection. You really don’t want to get one.”

“How do I avoid getting one?” I ask as I reach for the toilet paper. I have noticed that wiping after peeing is a new necessity. Everything down there gets damp. Unlike the old days, I can’t just shake it off and stuff it back in my pants.

“When you wipe,” she continues the instruction, “wipe from front to back. Always.”

“Okay,” I try applying the lesson as I dry off my nether region. I feel for a vaginal opening but still don’t find one.

Pulling my panty back up, I call through the door as I wash my hands, “Can you hand through some clothes, Jane?”

She sounds a touch exasperated, “Just come out, Karla. You will probably need some help with this stuff. We are both women here.”

Reluctantly, I open the door and slowly walk into the room.

Jane just shakes her head and sighs. “I just can’t believe your change. In less than two weeks you transform from a modestly handsome geek, to this gorgeous butterfly. I would kill to have a body like yours again and we are the same age. It doesn’t seem fair somehow. I have been fighting to lose weight from my last pregnancy and find myself pregnant again. It will be a battle to ever be slender like you again.

“Anyway, girl, we need to get some clothes on you,” she shakes off her longing and gains a serious expression. “Those nylon panties are great for keeping your clothes from clinging, but they are terrible for exercise, and we are going to get some exercise when your reporter is gone. Take ‘em off. Your mother left you some nice cotton panties on the bed.”

After stripping off my nylon panty, I take the black cotton brief that she is holding out and quickly pull it on.

“One of the banes of the female existence are visible panty lines, or VPL for short,” she teaches me. “I doubt that you noticed, but those panties are seamless and designed to be worn under snug fitting clothes without showing VPL. They are perfect for wearing under your yoga pants. Also, they are black and won’t show through. Never wear colored or patterned underwear when wearing snug or light-colored women’s pants unless you want the whole world to see what you have underneath. Black, white, or nude undies, depending on the colors you are wearing, are best.”

She hands me some kind of magenta bra/top thing. I hold it for inspection.

“That, Karla,” she informs me, “is a crop top with built in bra. It is a little bit of a pain to put on, it but will support your new assets and absorb any sweat you produce.”

“My college girlfriend told me that women don’t sweat, they glisten.” I recall from my past.

“Whatever you call it,” she says while rolling her eyes, “you need clothing that will absorb it.”

It is a struggle, but I pull the tight device over my head. Jane helps me pull it into place and shows me how to settle my breasts.

Jane hands me the yoga pants. “Let’s see you wiggle your cute bum into these,” she says with a grin.

I try pulling them on like a pair of jeans. It doesn’t work.

“You wore pantyhose last night?” she asks.

“Yes,” the light comes on in my mind about how to solve my current dilemma. “I was taught to roll them up my legs. I assume that I should do something like that?”

“You got it,” she smiles. “You are a fast learner.”

Standing in front of the mirror again, the woman smiling back is even cuter than she was when she was only wearing her panties. I can’t take my eyes off myself as I turn various ways in order to see the whole package.

“Definitely narcissistic,” Jane laughs. “Your makeup won’t do well when you start to ‘glisten’, sweetheart. You better go take it off while I change into my yoga clothes.” I hadn’t noticed her gym bag by the door.

I glance at Jane through the vanity mirror as I remove my makeup and as she changes. She complains about her body, but I think that she is still pretty attractive. She could use a little toning, but I see lots of women in much worse shape.

As we finish up, Jane tosses me my alma mater football jersey, “Put that on Karla, there will be a man present and we don’t want him getting too uncomfortable.” She grins. I see that she is wearing a similar shirt.

She tosses me some very short socks and points to the feminine athletics shoes. When we are both dressed, she shows how to put my hair up, like hers, in a high ponytail using one of the scrunchies from my mother’s hair accessories.

I stand, once again, in front of the mirror admiring the young woman that I have become. Jane joins me. She has nothing to be ashamed of. She is cute and I tell her so. I spontaneously give her a girly sideways hug. She is a couple of inches shorter than me and when we to the girl thing of bringing our heads together I find mine on top of hers.

With watery eyes, I tell her, “I love you guys. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.”

She gives me a squeeze, “I love you too, Karla, but I think we need to get moving. I am sure that dinner is getting cold.”

----<0>----

When we get back downstairs, we find that Jane is right. Dinner is actually on the table where Anita and Joanna are chatting with John and Anne who had arrived while Jane and I were changing.

It turns out that Joanna had helped Anne with her divorce a year ago and they are already friends. John and Anita recognize each other from high school and are comparing notes on common friends and experiences.

John is the first to notice me when Jane and I enter the room and his jaw drops. When Anne notices, she seems particularly surprised by my appearance.

“I have interviewed several post-op transexuals over the years,” she tells me with admiration, “But none of them can rock the yoga chick look like you do.”

I see that she still doesn’t fully understand what is going on here.

Joanna comes to my aid, “That’s because she’s not post-op anything, Anne. Her transformation is not an accomplishment of medical science. Without any assistance from pills or surgery she has been morphing into a female for the last week and a half.”

John adds, “I have known Karl since childhood. Last week, he looked like a very slightly more feminine Karl but was definitely a male. Now, Karla looks like a totally female version of her former self. It is eerie.”

Over dinner, Jane, Anita, Joanna and I go over the events of last eleven days, leaving out certain rather personal and intimate details. We answer a myriad of probing questions from the reporters.

After dinner, we give them the grand tour of the house showing them where notes and gifts were found. Joanna and Anita open every drawer and closet in the master bedroom and explain when each of the feminine items had appeared and the effects each revelation had had on my transformation. John seems uncomfortable around all the feminine accessories, but Anne is very much intrigued and is not shy about examining virtually everything. She notices that all the clothes are brand new.

With a stop at the home office to use the computer there, I scroll through the daily selfies for our guests. This is the most telling evidence of my gradual change. I end up putting the selfies and images of the notes on a thumb drive and hand it to John.

“Please be discreet with all this,” I caution him. “I am trusting you with my reputation. I am hoping that you are professional enough to not turn this into a tabloid article.”

“I will be factual,” he promises.

After we retire to the living room, Anne asks, “Where did you stash your male clothing? I haven’t seen any.”

“It is all gone,” I answer her question. “As each feminine item appeared, the corresponding male item disappeared. It seems that my mother doesn’t want me trying to turn back. She has been burning my bridges for me.”

John asks, “Are you really sure about that the Christmas tree and various gifts aren’t some kind of elaborate prank?”

“John,” I say patiently, “we’ve been over this. I have searched the house high and low, put tells on all entry points, and looked for footprints in the snow. Some of these events happened while I was awake and in the house. I never heard anyone or saw any signs of activity. Even still, if it was an elaborate prank, how do you explain the new me?”

“I get it,” he holds up his hands in surrender, “I believe you. It is just that all this just defies logic. I am not sure how to write this up without sounding like a delusional crackpot.”

“We can work on this together,” Anne tells him. “This may be the most interesting story of the year but we need to get it right.”

Turning to me, she says, “Karla, we rarely get anyone to open up so completely. Thank you for the access. I am like John, I am convinced but this story is shaking some of my thoughts on reality. How do we tell it in a factual, but believable manner is something that we’ll have to sleep on and discuss in the morning. We have a 3 PM deadline tomorrow to get this in Sunday’s paper. Somehow, we will make this work.”

“I am going to start working on this tonight,” John declares. “There is more than enough material to work with and I am satisfied that I know what the facts are. I want to have an outline, at a minimum, ready for you in the morning, Anne.”

“Karla,” Anne asks, “Can you see if you can get a good image from the photographer for the article? I am thinking about something that shows you in your work environment would be best. We probably should focus on the impact of your changes on the business.”

“I will see what I can do,” I promise.

“Thanks for dinner, ladies,” Anne says as she gets ready to go. “We better let you get to your yoga.”

----<0>----

“That went well,” Jane offers after our guests leave.

“I think that we can trust Anne to get it right,” Joanna informs us. “She is a very smart and honest woman and I think that she understands the situation.”

“I certainly hope so!” I wish. “Anyway, it is done. Let’s do some yoga!”

The three ladies have brought their yoga mats and various props with them in large bags. While Anita and Joanna are changing, I loaded up the video and go looking to see if mom left a mat and accessories for me. I find them up in my room. I realize that it doesn't phase me to know that they weren’t there during the house tour.

For the next hour we bend and stretch in ways that I never thought possible. We are all glistening when it was over. The others giggle and laugh at my poor attempts at some of the poses. It is painfully apparent that I just don’t have a feel for how this body works.

“Karla, I can see why your mother wants you to take up yoga,” Jane smiles at me. “You are attacking it like you would in your male body. I think that your new female body reacts a little differently. Yoga will help you to get more in tune with the new you.”

“I agree,” Anita chimes in, “There are still a lot of vestiges of your male mannerisms in the way you move your body.”

“That’s right,” Joanna agrees, “Graceful, you are not. Keep up the yoga and wear those heels to work and you may develop some feminine grace.”

“You might consider signing up for yoga classes at the gym.” Jane suggests.

“I think that I will just practice here for now,” I say. “I’m not ready to be seen screwing up like this in public.”

“Chicken,” Joanna challenges me with a grin.

We all laugh.

----<0>----

After the three ladies leave, I notice a new text message on my phone.

Sam: Made it to east coast. Waiting for the hop across the pond. Do you have time to talk? Leaving in an hour.

Damn… he sent this several hours ago-about the time we were eating dinner.

I don’t know if text messages find their way to Germany, but I send one anyway.

Me: Very sorry to miss you. Busy night with reporters. Let me know when you get to Germany. Thank you for last night. I really enjoyed your company.

----<0>----

I step out of the shower after washing off the ‘glisten’ and find that mom has stuck again.

As I dry myself off, I eye the small pile of flimsy feminine fabric that she left on the counter.

I wrap myself in the towel as I saw Judy do when we lived together before investigating this new gift. It turns out to be a revealing see-through baby doll nightie. The top has a built-in bra with a see through ‘skirt’ that looks like it will barely cover my bottom. The matching bikini panty is also very flimsy and see through. I would be surprised if the whole ensemble weighed more than quarter pound.

I know that it is futile, but I carry the barely there fabric into my room looking for the flannel nightgown that I have been using lately. It is not where I left it. Of course.

When I try to open the drawer containing nightgowns and pajamas in the master bedroom it won’t open. It is stuck. And, it appears, so am I.

It is either go to bed naked, or wear the baby doll.

I sigh as I drop my towel and work out how to get the top on. The panty is a no-brainer but the top takes a little thought.

Looking in the mirror, I see a sexy woman that would have had me drooling just two weeks ago. After a few seconds of posing, I can feel my self-image shifting even further to the feminine perspective. Somehow, I just feel like this is me. This is what I was meant to be. And I like it.

I take a selfie to memorialize the moment.

As I crawl into bed, I am reminded of the first time I was ever with a woman wearing something like this. It was the day that Judy moved into my apartment. I had been delayed at school a little later than usual. When I arrived home, the small apartment was lit by dozens of candles. I found Judy lounging on the bed wearing something not unlike this. She had this hungry look in her eyes. That turned out to be the best night of sex in our short time together.

I wonder what mom is thinking. I am just glad that there is not a male around to see me like this.

I can’t help but feel sexy, and that excites me in a completely different way than when Judy seduced me.

I am pretty sure that I know what Sam’s reaction would be.