Something Feels Strange…

I lie down on the double bed that I have been sitting on throughout our long chat. I feel convinced that I am about to do the right thing. People are depending on me. I want to see if I can pull this off.

"Okay Mom. Call in the Wizards. I'll do it." I manage to get out before fading into a comfortable sleep.

Chapter 7: Girl Boot Camp Begins

"Sweetheart, time to wake up," I hear my mother's voice and feel a gentle shake.

I pull the pillow over my head and try to block out the noise. I am feeling sleep deprived.

That is, until I remember last night's dream/nightmare. The memory of the night floods my mind in an instant.

The pillow comes off, my eyes snap open and I find myself in a hotel room alone with my mother. So, it wasn't a dream after all.  I am almost afraid to investigate further.

Mom looks as if she just woke up after a night of too little sleep. She’s wearing a cotton night shirt that reaches to mid thigh. I am afraid to think about what I am likely to be wearing. I can feel some cloth bunched up around me.

"Mom?" I ask. "Last night wasn't a dream was it?"  The feminine voice is still with me.

"No, sweetheart," she replies with a smile, "it wasn't. You are now Kristina Jeffers. Welcome to the sorority.

"You should refer to me as Mrs. Quinn now, sweetheart." she coaches me. "For the next few months you are the niece of my good friend Jennifer Mercer. It is probably best to get in the habit now of not calling me ‘Mom’."

"So, Mrs. Quinn," – This is going to take some getting used to! –  "what's next on the agenda?"

"Well, Dr. Quinn has just departed from home to take his son Chris to Scout camp." She says. "They should arrive here in about half an hour. Before they get here, however, we need to get you up and dressed for a long trip. You, Kristina, are going to Alaska today. It is time to give you your first girl lessons, so rise and shine!" She gives me a playful slap on the butt to get me going.

I toss off the covers and look down. I see a blue knit nightshirt twisted around my body. It looks like I am going to have to learn how to sleep in one of these. They are a lot different from my normal pajamas –  normal pajamas don't ride up.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I mentally take inventory of the sensations. Most noticeably different is the looseness of my breasts. They are obviously unrestrained. While not big, as I recall from the shopping trip, they seem to be big enough to sway on their own as I sit up. My hair feels strange on my head. Reaching up I find that it is pulled back into a pony tail. It is secured with some kind of wide elastic band. I imagine that it is one of the scrunchie things that my sister leaves in the bathroom at home.

Before I go much further, I’m aware that my bladder is making it presence known.

"Mrs. Quinn, I need to go to bathroom." I announce. "Is there anything special that I need to know?"

"Rule number one: Sit down when using the toilet." She grins. "No more of that creepy standing up to urinate for you, my girl! Also, you will need to wipe yourself dry. When you do, start from the front and go backwards. Never go the other way, it can result in an infection in some rather sensitive places."

"I like standing to urinate." I pout. "It's quicker and easier"

"Not now." she replies, still grinning.

I head into the bathroom and close the door. Avoiding the mirror, I raise the lid on the toilet, lift the skirt of the night dress and sit down on the seat. I find that I am not wearing any underwear. The only thing I am wearing is this night shirt. Things just don't feel right. As I am prone to say, it feels strange.

First of all, whenever I have sat on the toilet to urinate previously, I have always had to use one hand to direct my penis so that things go the right direction. Now there is nothing to direct. I tried. Going hands free is a new experience.

The next problem is releasing the flow. Missing the muscles in my penis that control the flow, I am not entirely sure what to do, but whatever it is, I need to do it soon. The pressure is building. I try relaxing. That does the trick. Instead of coming out as a nice controlled stream, the urine comes out in more of a spray from an opening in between my legs. When done, I definitely feel wet all over my crotch. Yep. Nothing like the old way.

Grabbing a couple of squares of toilet paper, I start to stick my hand down between my legs. Brain central comes to life. Instead of screaming at my hands to stop, it is asking for more input regarding this unknown territory. It looks as if brain central got the memo from last night and has altered it's programming. We've changed teams. Time to learn the new system.

Continuing the process, I start by patting things down there. I am tentative about doing a more thorough investigation by wiping.

The first contact is strange. I'm not sure what I expected down there, having never done any homework on the subject. I first feel a smoothness, but find that the patting does not take care of the wetness. It seems to be under another layer. Pressing the paper against my crotch with a bit more firmness I notice a vertical slit that I push into and relieve the damp feeling. The arrangement down there is more complex than I would have thought.  I am curious and have to take a look.

I spread my legs more and crane my neck to get a look. I can't get a good view but, using my fingers as an aid, it appears that there are folds of flesh that conceal some delicate looking flaps of flesh. I remember mom's – Mrs. Quinn's – instructions and gingerly wipe from the top of the slit towards the back, taking care of the moist feeling. In the process I encounter another, larger, opening that wasn't there yesterday. That must be my new vagina, I surmise.

In the process of wiping, I touch a feature at the top of the slit that sends a pleasurable shiver up my spine.  What was that?

"How's it going in there Kris?" Mrs. Quinn calls through the door.

"Ah... Okay I guess," I reply. "Just trying to figure things out."

"You'll be getting more instruction on your new equipment later today, sweetheart," She informs me, "but we need to get going here. Dr. Quinn will be here very soon to take you to your flight."

I drop the paper in the bowl, stand up, and flush the toilet as my night shirt falls back into place.

I stand in front of the sink to wash my hands. Looking in the mirror, I see a pretty girl staring back at me. The same one that I saw in the store, but with studs in her ears. She is obviously just getting up. Her hair is pulled back and she is without makeup. She still looks cute. She is me, I remind myself. I think it is going to take some time to adjust to this new image.

Brain central, however, has been reprogramming for the new image all week. Every time during the past week that I looked at a girl's clothes and wondered what they would look like on my female self, this is the image that I have seen. I am not a total stranger to myself. It is just that I have not yet merged with the new image. We are getting there, though.

Turning to the full length mirror on the bathroom door, I get a better view of the girl. The night shirt she is wearing has 3/4 length sleeves and a modest Y neck – a term that I learned from Laurie last week –  the buttons that make the stem of the Y hold closed an opening that extends to a couple of inches below the breasts, kind of like a shirt opening. Over the left breast and chest are a spray of glittery stars around a crescent moon. The hem is around mid thigh. She looks nice. If I have to be a girl, at least I like the body that I have been given. The image in the mirror is what I have imagined Laurie to be like in a night shirt.

Thinking of Laurie snaps me out of my self admiration. A flash of anger goes through my mind while my heart feels sadness. I must have a talk with my former girlfriend; there has to be more to the story from her end. I want to hate her right now, but part of me wants to hear her side of the story in hopes that that our relationship has not been a total deception.

Mom knocks again on the door of the bathroom.  I open the door and she sees me looking at the mirror over the sink.

"So what do you think, Kris?" Mrs. Quinn asks. "You're pretty good looking."

"I don't know how I feel about it yet," I admit. "I guess being cute is good but I think I have a lot more thinking to do before I am comfortable with all this.  It is a pretty good disguise though.  I'm sure that no one will recognize me as Chris Quinn."

"Well one way to ease into change is to keep yourself busy so that you don't have to think about it too much at once," Mrs. Quinn informs me. "So, the first thing we need to do is to get you showered and dressed for the day. You will be seeing and feeling lots of new things as we do this. Try to look beyond those sensations and focus on the task at hand. Your subconscious can sort out the details for later analysis.

"Kris, the first thing you need to do is to get out your night shirt and into the shower," she instructs. "Use the plastic shower cap on the counter to cover your hair. We don't have time for working on your hair right now, and anyway, you had it washed just a few hours ago. Do you need help getting into the shower, sweetheart?"

"Ah... no," I reply, "I think that I can take care of it."

"Don't take too long, Kris," She reminds me, "time is short right now."  There is that time thing again.  There never seems to be enough of it.

Closing the door, I try last weeks trick. I turn my back on the mirrors and close my eyes as I pull the night shirt over my head. I realize that I need to open my eyes to negotiate the shower. I studiously ignore my new body as I put on the shower cap, grab a washcloth off the towel rack, step into the shower and close the curtain. My new body is hard to ignore. The hips and legs move a differently from what I am used to, the breasts bounce around, and my butt feels too big. It feels downright strange.

As the warm water strikes my body, other new sensations flood brain central with new input. All to be cataloged for further review at a future time.  As we know, there is not enough time right now.

First of all, my skin seems much more sensitive than before – in a good way. The water feels almost as if it is caressing my body like never before.

Next the water slides down my body uninhibited by hair of any type except around my crotch. I was never a real hairy guy, but I am now a hairless gal. The feel of the water sliding over my skin is particularly noticeable on my newly waxed legs.

I also notice that I am shorter; the tub seems to be a bit bigger than it should and the shower nozzle is higher than I am accustomed to.  The extra room is nice in this small hotel shower.

Getting with the program, I lather up the wash cloth using a bar of soap and start running it over my new body. Wow.

Reminding myself that now is not the time for self exploration, I start to quickly clean the body surfaces. When I encounter the breasts, my hands seem a bit reluctant, but push through the process. The breasts, on the other hand, send signals of pleasure back to brain central, asking for more. The request is denied – with some reluctance.

Running the cloth over my hips and butt, I start to get a feel for just how much things have changed. The waist is noticeably smaller, but the rear end is large and rounded. It feels larger than it looked in the mirror. Almost like a built in pillow. More information to catalog.

The legs feel incredibly smooth as I wipe the soapy cloth up and down them. The shape has changed dramatically here also. My thighs are larger and taper to a feminine knee and my feet seem dainty compared my old ones.

Eventually, I have nothing left to clean but my crotch. I am not sure about going there without taking more time to explore and understand the unexpected complexity of that region. I settle for running the cloth over the outer folds then spreading my legs a bit to let water flow over the region in a general rinse. I need to read the owner's manual before getting into more detail here.

Finishing the shower, I turn off the water. Opening the curtain, I grab a towel and start to rub myself dry after taking off the uncomfortable shower cap. Ouch! The towel seems too rough for this new skin. I change to patting myself dry. Patting is not as efficient as a good rub, but it feels better. I am starting to understand why my sisters take so long in the shower.

"Kris," Mrs. Quinn (I am already missing Mom) calls through the door, "Dr. Quinn is waiting for us in the lobby. He wants to skip the continental breakfast here and take us to the IHOP restaurant just up the road by the mall. I like that idea, but we need to get moving, sweetheart."

"I'm doing the best I can, Mrs. Quinn." I reply.  "I'll be out in just a minute."

I try wrapping the towel around me like I have seen my sisters do as they dart from the shower to their rooms. I will need to work on the technique, but manage to do a creditable job before opening the bathroom door.

I see that Mom – Mrs. Quinn – has been going through my suit cases. There are a selection of clothes laid out on my bed.

"I don't suppose you know that much about girls' clothes yet," she explains, "so I have selected two coordinating outfits for you to choose from. While you are getting dressed, I'll take a quick shower then help you with your makeup."

She disappears into the bathroom and I face the clothing. Part of me wishes that she had just given me something to wear so that I didn't have to think about it. I guess that this is part of easing me into being a girl.

One outfit consists of the tiered skirt, a turquoise top with a Y neckline that is gathered under the breasts and has short sleeves of moderate length. There is underwear and pantyhose set out to go with it.

The other outfit is the more comfortable pair of jeans that I picked out last week. The chosen top, is definitely girly. It has vertical lines, not quite strips, of black, magenta – another color that I learned about in the past week – and white. It has a black empire contrast band just below the breasts – no one ever accused me of being a slow learner – and rather girly flutter sleeves. The neckline is scooped rather modestly. This outfit has a different set of underwear to go with it.

Okay... I need to start thinking like a girl here. I am not real sure how to do that just yet, but I might as well try. The trouble is that I have never been around a girl as she goes through the clothing selection process. Sure, I have been subjected to 'What do you think of this?' and 'Do you think that this makes my butt look too big?' – minefield questions for guys –  but I never actually chosen an outfit for a girl to wear.

I know that I am going to be meeting my new family soon. I ought to look good – first impressions are important. The skirt combination would probably be best for that. The problem is that I don't know how to pull off wearing a skirt yet. That might be too big of a step for now. The jeans, on the other hand are closer to familiar territory.  They would also be what a typical tomboy girl would wear. So the jeans it is.

I think, however, that I will go with the turquoise top instead of the girly top. They are both definitely feminine, but the turquoise one seems like a smaller step in the girly direction. After all, I am supposed to be a tom boy. The turquoise actually looks good with the jeans anyway..

Dropping the towel (and trying to ignore the naked body), I grab the panties lying by the jeans. They are cotton and rise a little higher than the bikini panties I wore last week. They are more like the hipsters that Marla put me in last week. Fortunately these are not pink. They are an ivory color. They have an elastic waistband that with the manufacturer's name repeated around it. They go on easily. I run my hand over the crotch. Something that I never would have dreamed of doing a week ago. It feels extraordinarily strange to feel the smoothness, or should I say, lack of feature, down there.

The bra is a plain cotton bra from the same manufacturer. It almost feels like T-shirt material. Remembering last week's lesson, I clasp the hooks in front of me before turning it around and slipping my arm through the straps. Leaning over, I settle the breasts into the cups, resisting the urge for more self-investigation.

Phase I is complete. Now for the next layer..

Grabbing the jeans, I slip them on. The feel on my smooth legs is very different. A good different.  The fact that these jeans fit closely to my new shape adds to the new feelings. I run my hands over my rear end. I can't quite get over the change in shape back there.

I hear the water turn off in the shower room. I better get moving.

Next comes the top. Fortunately the fabric is heavy enough, so I don't need a camisole. I pull on the top to adjust it over the breasts. The darn buttons are going to take some time to get used to. I need to do some research to find out why buttons are backwards on girls clothes.

About this time the bathroom door opens and mom (Mrs. Quinn, sorry!) steps out still toweling herself dry. She is naked. I am stunned. Eventually, both of us realize that I am staring at her. I quickly advert my eyes while blushing mightily. She giggles..

"I guess that you haven't seen a lot of naked women, have you?" she asks.

"Ah... no." I reply..

"That's good for the old Chris.  But now that you have changed teams it is time to start getting used to it. You will be around naked, or at least partially naked, girls a lot this summer and you need to be comfortable with it. You will be going into girl's bath and locker rooms. It won't be too much different from what you did as a guy, only with girls this time." She explains as she digs through the overnight bag that she brought with her, selecting her clothing for the day.

I occupy myself with putting on the socks that were set out with the jeans. The socks have alternating purple and green strips.

I desperately try to act nonchalantly while mom slips into lacy black panties and matching bra. These are followed by pair of black slacks and a purple top with a square neckline and short sleeves. She pulls on some very short black nylons that go up to her knees then puts on some black shoes with a low heel.

By this time I have my socks on and my new running shoes and am trying to get the rest of my clothes back into the suitcases. I notice that my clothes from last night are already packed.

While we are finishing dressing, Mom comments on my selections for the day.

"I'm impressed," she says. "I thought you would just go with one of the outfits that I chose. I expected you to pick the jeans, but why the switch in tops?"

"The other one seemed more girly than this one." I explain. "I am a tomboy, you know, so I feel more comfortable in this one." More comfortable is a relative term. None of this feels right yet.

"The top works well with those jeans," she says approvingly. "We just need to work on make up and jewelry and we will be all set. I guess, that the guys can come up now."

Guys? What 'guys'? I thought that it was just dear old Dr. Quinn down there.e.

Mom pulls out her cell phone and speed dials Dad. "How is my favorite hunk holding up?" She asks when he answers. My parents have the sappy relationship that it embarrassing for us kids. "We are decent now. Come up to room 210 and have Joe bring his identity stuff up."

Before I can ask questions, she drags me into the bathroom along with a pink bag that she pulled out of my backpack. "Time for us to get beautiful" she says enthusiastically.

She hands me my new hairbrush and gives me instruction on brushing techniques. We end up holding some of the hair back with a clip like Sam did last night.t.

She follows up the hair brushing by handing me a cotton pad soaked with some fluid. "This," she explains, "is the cleanser." I wipe my face thoroughly. This is followed by a moisturizer.

About this time there is knock at the door. Mrs. Quinn lets the two men in, directing Joe to set his stuff up on the small desk in the corner. Dr. Quinn has a seat in the sofa chair by the window after giving his wife a six-second kiss.

That's right. A six-second kiss. Somewhere the two of them got the idea that their marriage would be better if they shared a six-second kiss every time they meet or part – it seems to be working. Mom is usually the time keeper. Sometimes the kiss seems more like six minutes to those watching. Six seconds of bliss for them. Six minutes of embarrassment for us kids.  I'd tell them to get a room, but since we are in one, I am afraid of what else they might do.

Mrs. Quinn returns to the bathroom as I finish with the moisturizer.

She quickly catches up to me in the face cleaning process.

"We don't have time for you to experiment with applying your own make up this morning, so I'll show you what I do on my face first, then I will do the same for you. Watch closely," she directs.

She follows approximately the same procedure shown me by Samantha. It takes about 10 minutes for her to get the two of us 'looking beautiful', as she calls it. I am impressed. The makeup is almost as magical as the gender transformation. The makeup takes the cute girl and makes her significantly more attractive without calling attention to itself.

I am not given time to dwell on the new look. Mrs. Quinn clasps a necklace around my neck, sprays my neck with some perfume, and puts me in front of a digital camera. Joe takes several head shots. In a matter of moments, I am handed a laminated military dependent ID card in the name of Kristina Marie Jeffers with an Anchorage, Alaska address. I am told that the paperwork is all legitimate and was previously filed without the image. The finalized document is emailed to the appropriate place.

Looking closer at the image on the card, I notice the necklace that Mrs. Quinn had put on me before shoving me in front of the camera. It is THE necklace. You know the one. It has the gold running shoe charm.

The chain is too short for me to see the charm while wearing it, so I go to look into the mirror.

"Mom?" I ask. "Oh, sorry, Mrs. Quinn? Why do I have Laurie's necklace?"

"Actually, Kris, it is yours." She explains. "Laurie has only been borrowing it all week. She asked me to give it back to you. She asked me to tell you that she hopes that you won't be too mad at her."

"We do have a few issues to work out." I grossly understate with a frown. "I don't know if I should wear this because it reminds me too much of how she has deceived me. I can't believe that she deceived me for so long."

"Are you sure that her feelings for Chris aren't genuine?" she asks.

"They didn't start out that way, if your story is true," I point out. "How can I be sure that the whole affair hasn't been a charade?"

I decide to leave the necklace on for now.w.

While I am getting my ID card, Mom is packing our clothes. I should keep her around as a lady's maid, I think. She is very efficient.

As Joe packs up his equipment, I note that he has not said a single word throughout this whole affair.  He didn't say anything last night either.  He quietly leaves when his things are packed.

As Joe leaves, Mrs. Quinn presents me with my first purse. It is made of brown leather and has a thin shoulder strap. It is not large and feels heavy for its size. Opening the purse, I am confronted with a myriad of items all neatly and efficiently crammed into the purse. Most of the contents are recognizable, but some will take more investigation than we have time for right now to determine what they are.

I pull a small wallet out of the purse and find a place for the ID card. I also find a debit card and several hundred dollars in cash in the wallet. Well! Things are looking up.

I also pull out a cell phone. It is a smart phone with a small keyboard, not the full QWERTY keyboard, but better than fighting the number keys when texting. Starting up the phone, I see that it has the full data package. You know, internet and email. The memory is already loaded with lots of music.  I'll have to check that out when there is time. The address book and calendar have quite a few entries also. The number has a 907 prefix. That must be Alaska. I am about to geek out over the telephone when Dr. Quinn drags me back from the brink.

Dear old Dad has been watching me closely since he came in the room. Seeing an opening in the chaos, he addresses his wife.e.

"So, this is Jennifer's niece Kris?"

"Yes," she replies. "Don't you think that she turned out well? Kris, this is Dr. Baden Quinn. My hunky husband."

"Hi, Dr. Quinn," I say with surprisingly mixed emotions. My Dad and I have always been pretty close. It is hard to step outside the family circle.

I think he sees my sadness. He steps forward and wraps me in a hug.

Speaking to the old me, he says "Chris, I'm sure you are in this beautiful girl somewhere. Let me tell you that we will miss you this summer. But we would have missed you more if you had left us for those Boy Scouts. We still love you and will be there if you need anything at all. Remember that!  We look forward to your return in August.  I am already feeling the need for some male support in our heavily female dominated home."

Mom joins the hug, after giving Dad a poke in the ribs for that last comment. I blink back a few tears, feeling loved. It is nice to know that my real family is not abandoning me.

"It is okay to cry a little." Mom tells me when she sees me holding back. "You're a girl now. One of the benefits of being a girl is that you can show emotion."

A few tears do find their way down my cheeks.s.

"The only problem with crying" she observes, "is that you have to fix your makeup afterwards."

She drags me back into the bathroom, where she shows me how to touch up my makeup from the repair kit found in the purse.

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A thousand thanks go to Gabi for her continued editing support.  Her efforts have made this much better than it would have been.