Don is a bit of a geek. But his intelligence was matched by his kind heart, and his flat mate and friend Steve appreciates his help in his university course work.

Don is a little confused as to why Steve and two other friends want him to join them of a motor cycle tour of France in the summer holidays, but he is pleased to be asked, and goes along. On their first stop, a cool group is playing at a night club, but it is a couples only evening, and Don is persuaded to become Donna for one evening, just so the four friends can see the show.

But no one expected to find Donna still there on the following morning.

In fact, Don never returned. And Donna was anything but a Geek!

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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

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Tanya has a new website where she will display her latest works first and then to BigCloset TopShelf a few weeks later is here at Tanya Allan's Tales .
Tanya's Book Shop where she is selling her works in book form is at http://tanyaallan.authorshaunt.com/shop.php . Please Visit!

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The Legal Stuff: It's What I Want  © 2009 Tanya Allan
 
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
 
This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
 
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
 
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don’t read it.
 
 
Chapter 1
 
 
“Oh, go on Don. Please!” Steve repeated, again, his voice had that pleading quality I hated.

“Look Steve, I have my own assignment. Besides, what the hell do I know about Film Noir? I’m doing French and Business studies,” I said.

“I know that, man, it’s got French in the title and you know about essays.”

“Shit Steve, why can’t you do your own essays?”

“I’ve tried, and I’m really shit at them. I just can’t pass. This is the last one before the end of the year.” His voice took on a pleading note.

“Then what the hell are you here for?”

“I’m here for the rugby, the beer, the women, and if I don’t get a bloody degree, my Dad will kill me.”

“Then you should at least make an effort to attend classes.”

“They’re all at the wrong time.”

“Only because you roll into bed at about five in the morning. Try going to bed at midnight, you might just make a ten o’clock lecture.”

“You sound like my Mum.”

“I can’t help that. Look, at least make an essay plan and do a rough draft. I’ll try to write it in a way that it should be accepted, but don’t expect a good grade,” I said, giving in.

“I don’t want a good grade, I just was to pass and get a credit. Like the others.”

“This should be my degree, not yours,” I grumbled.

“Hey, I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically, “Like this is the end of the second year, and what have I to show for it?”

Steve was my housemate and a friend. At least he told me he was a friend, but I never saw much of him. We had been freshers together last year. When we had to move out of halls for the second year, we shared this house with Mark and his girlfriend Jenny.

Steve was a big guy, well over six feet. He was outgoing and well liked. His problem was that he had just scraped into the university and was reading Film studies. He had chosen that for two reasons, the first was that his father was a movie producer and wanted his only child to follow him into the business, but not without a qualification. The second was that watching movies was his only interest in life, apart from playing sport and drinking, both of which he seemed proficient at. The fact you couldn’t get a degree in drinking beer was always a very deep disappointment for him.

Mark was on my Business Studies course, but without the French, while Jenny was reading English and Dramatic art. We had sort of come together as odds and sods when looking for accommodation at the end of the first year, taking a three-bedroom house in a terrace in Southsea, not that far from the main University buildings. Steve and I had been next door to each other in halls, but it took him three weeks before he actually spoke to me, and then he confessed to being terrified of essays. He was slightly dyslexic, having a real mental block about some things — like work. I sat down with him and helped him with his first assignment, for which he got a B grade. Thereafter, I had helped him to one extent or other, except for one, which he failed.

I was always at a bit of a loss why we were such friends, as we were so different. He was big and brash and always out with the lads, while I was small and shy and spent time on my work. I didn’t drink, because the one time I did, I was as sick as a parrot. My father was in business and always wanted his son to play rugby for England, and to be the best at everything. Unfortunately, I stopped growing at 5’ 6”, so was hardly Mr Universe.

I tried playing rugby at school, but with my size and build was made to play scrum half. This meant that all the largest blokes on the field repeatedly flattened me, so I rarely left the pitch without an injury of some description. My father wanted me to take a short service commission in the army, so I rebelled, grew my hair and went to university.

Had he said that he liked my hair, I would have had it all shaved off, but as he moaned every time he saw me, I just let it grow longer. I even had one of my ears pierced, because he complained that boys who had earrings were poofs.

He wanted me to go to Oxford or Cambridge, so I went to Portsmouth. He wanted me to play rugby or row, so I learned to play the guitar, even persuading myself that I was the next John Williams or Eric Clapton. However, I was so shy that I rarely mixed with the crowd, preferring to spend most of my time in my room, working, playing my guitar or on my computer. I fancied myself as a singer songwriter, but was terrified of playing or performing in front of anyone.

The one thing I was good at was my work. I was on track to get a first, and was determined to show my father that I could do something right. I loved my guitar, but Dad thought that music was sissy and had no time for it.

My mother, God bless her, was utterly dominated by my father, and would often have to intercede between us. Funnily enough, my father and I were not close, but the money came from my mother’s side, as he had married the boss’s daughter. I had a large lump sum waiting in trust for me when I was twenty-one. Just over a year away.

I was so pleased to get away from my father that I had no plans to go back home once I had a degree. I chose French because I hoped to go to Europe and work there, as far away from my father as I could. However, I had no real plans and no real aspirations. Besides, I was not really content with myself, as I was going through an identity crisis.

Ever since I could remember I had never really felt happy with whom I was. It is very hard to describe, but I really felt ill at ease and as if I was just borrowing this body until I found out whom I was supposed to be. As a result, I was not the most sociable of boys, and tended to keep myself to myself. Sexually I was very innocent, and was rather ashamed of the direction my fantasies occasionally took me.

I knew I was a boy, but I knew what boys were supposed to want and like. I also knew that I was different.

It wasn’t that I was gay, I wasn’t, as once, when I’d been fourteen, an older boy approached me and told me he was attracted to me and was I willing to try something different. I’d been horrified and disgusted. While all my friends seemed to be competing to be the most macho, it was as if I identified with the more feminine side of life. This gave me the creeps, as I grew up, I found that my dreams and fantasies rather scared me. From that time, I started imagining taking a passive role in relationships as a girl. Not as a boy pretending to be a girl, but a real girl. As a result, I tended just to try not to think about sex at all. It wasn’t hard, as I think I was just one of those people who had yet to develop a sex drive.

Once again, I completed my own assignment and sat down with Steve to help write his. I thought that this friendship was rather a one-way arrangement. As I had been helping him for so long, I was actually becoming more than a little interested in his assignments and his whole area of study. I think I secretly wanted to be involved in the movie industry.

Some hope!

As I said, I often wondered why he was my friend, and put it purely down to the fact that I did his work for him. It took us until gone midnight, and he even sacrificed his precious drinking time to ensure that the assignment got done. I printed out the finished article, putting it in a plastic binder, so at least it looked good. Then I went to bed, after he told me he would be forever grateful.

The next morning I was up and out of the house before anyone else. I cycled to the last lecture of the year, when I handed in my assignment.

Mr Gateshead, the Business Studies lecturer, was impressed, informing me that I was the only one to have completed my assignment and handed it in on time. I sat through the lecture, safe in the knowledge that I was through to my third and final year.

I popped home for lunch and met Steve returning.

“I’ve just handed in my assignment,” he said.

“Whose assignment?” I asked, and he grinned.

“Okay, our assignment. I think Miss Hardy was surprised.”

“You haven’t ever handed anything in on time.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, Don, what are you doing this summer?” he asked, changing the subject.

I shrugged. I had made no plans, and was prepared to do anything except go home.

“Mark and Jenny want to go to the South of France by motorcycle, so I thought I might go too. How do you fancy coming along?”

“Duh. I haven’t got a motorcycle. In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, looking at my beaten up pedal cycle.

“That’s okay, you could ride pillion behind me.”

I stared at him.

“Me? Why don’t you ask one of the thousand babes you keep talking about?”

“Hey, I owe you. You have helped me get this far, and I know I’d never have done it without you. We can both pick up some cracking French babes when we get there.”

I blushed, as my success with girls could be charted on the back of a postage stamp.

“I don’t think so. But thanks anyway,” I said, and went to go in.

“Hey Don, we all want you to come. Please?” he said.

“It’s only because I speak French, isn’t it?”

He laughed.

“No, you’ve been a bloody good mate to me over the last two years, and, well, I owe you.”

“I’ll think about it, okay?” I said, and went to my room.
 
 
Over the next day, Mark, Jenny and Steve all tried to persuade me to join them. In the end, and in order to get some peace, I agreed, but although I seemed quite reluctant, I was secretly very pleased to have some friends who appeared to want me to be with them.

Mark and Steve each had Kawasaki VN800 classics. They are kind of like Harley Davidsons, but not as expensive. We had one four-man tent and each of us took a rucksack and a bedroll. I even managed to strap on my guitar in its case. The plan was to take a week to get down to the south, tour around, staying in campsites, but staying longer anywhere we really liked. We thought we could pop into Italy and Spain if the mood took us.

I told my mother that I was off to France to practise my French, and we set off on the day after the University closed for the summer. Needless to say, my father was abroad on business, again. The guys took me to buy a set of black leathers, in which I immediately started sweating. Being in Portsmouth was handy, as we caught the ferry and we were in France the next day.

I felt a bit precarious behind Steve to start with, particularly as we were on the wrong side of the road. Jenny was a striking redhead, with her long hair streaming from under her helmet as they rode along. I was aware that my fair hair was almost as long, and I realised from the looks that we received from male drivers, that they thought I was a girl too. I had a strange feeling to this realisation, which worried me for a while. Then I shrugged and went with the flow.

I hated to admit it, but I actually enjoyed the feeling that I was drawing the attraction of others. The fact that they thought I was a girl gave me a kick.

I actually enjoyed the feeling that I was fooling people, and as Steve was a hunk, I even felt rather possessive over him. I caught myself feeling these things, so felt guilty and ashamed, so attempted to rid myself of them.
 
 
We spent the first night in a campsite near the town of Rochefort, on the west coast. There was a nice square and several bars with young people in them. We were all a bit grimy, so we had a shower at the campsite. The facilities were good, but basic. Out tent was a two-chamber tent, and we had limited privacy. We could have rented one from the site, but being poor students, we were happy to stay with what we had.

Actually, we were anything but poor, with the exception of Jenny, we all came from relatively wealthy backgrounds, with quite decent allowances. Particularly Steve, who’s Dad made several millions on his last movie! However, we liked living rough, looking mean and moody bikers.

I was in a clean black tee shirt and jeans, and was drying my hair in the sun outside the tent. Jenny was next to me drying hers, while Steve and Mark went off for their shower.

Suddenly I was aware of a very loud wolf whistle and, looking up, saw a German VW campervan with three lads in it.

They could see our UK registered bikes, so one shouted across in English.

“Hey girls, looking good.”

They laughed and drove off.

I went bright red, and Jenny laughed.

“My God, Don, they thought you were a girl too,” she said.

I said nothing, but she looked at me strangely.

“Actually, you look more like a girl than a bloke with your hair like that, and you are very slender.”

“Thanks a bunch,” I said, feeling confused, for although I was slightly upset at having my masculinity doubted so obviously, something inside me was secretly pleased. I immediately felt guilty, and wondered why.

Needless to say, Jenny told the others and Mark thought it very funny. I was watching Steve, and to my surprise he looked at me and smiled, but didn’t join in the laughter.

I tied my hair back in its ponytail and we went to town for a meal. It was a pleasant evening, and later we settled down in the tent to sleep. I was sharing with Steve, and I could hear Mark and Jenny trying to be quiet whilst making love. I grinned at Steve and he grinned back.
 
 
The next day we moved on to Lacanau a l’Ocean, still on the West coast, but further south.

The campsite was almost full, but we managed to squeeze in. There was a super little resort here, with huge rolling surf on a very long straight sandy beach. It was great fun, so we all decided to stay here for a few days.

There was a good nightlife here, several bars and nightclubs. One nightclub had a cool band playing live on the first evening, so after we had a light lunch, Mark wandered off to see if tickets were needed.

He came back with four tickets, but looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” Jenny asked.

“It’s couples only.”

“What?” I said.

“In order to keep the lager louts at bay, they’ve made it couples only, girl and boy couples, no pairs of blokes allowed,” he said.

“Fuck that. Where can we find two unattached females?” Steve asked.

“Even if we did, there are no more tickets, the guy behind me got the last pair,” Mark said.

“Well, at least you two can go!” I said.

“I bought four tickets,” Mark said, holding them up.

Jenny looked at me, and I immediately knew what she was thinking.

“No. Jenny, no way!” I said.

“Why not? You managed to fool those Germans yesterday.”

“Oh come on, they were in the distance, and probably had eyesight problems.”

“It would just be for tonight, and in the dark, no one will ever know,” she said.

“I’ll know, and you guys will know,” I said, but my heart was racing. Part of me was terrified, yet strangely, part of me was very excited over the possibility.

I noticed that Steve was silent. He was just watching me. Mark grinned.

“Hey Jen, with a bit of make up and stuff, could you make him look good enough to pass?” he asked.

“Yeah, he’s near enough my size, so I reckon that I’d even have something he could wear too,” she said.

“Oh come on, a joke is a joke. No way!” I said.

“Oh, go on Don, it would be a laugh, we would have one over on the club,” said Mark.

“Oh yeah, and what happens if some randy French bloke gropes me in the dark?”

“I won’t let that happen,” said Steve, very quietly and assured.

I stared at him. He wasn’t grinning like the rest, and I had a nagging thought about him.

“Come on Don, you and me need to get to work,” Jenny said, and despite my protestations, she dragged me back to the campsite.

I was sent for a shower and told to shave every part of me I could reach. I grumbled that this wasn’t necessary just for one night. But she threatened to be very unpleasant, so I complied.

Then back at the tent, she delved into her rucksack and produced a bra, tights and some knickers. She helped me put them on, filling the bra cups with rolled up socks.

“Shit, Don, you have a gorgeous figure! Are sure you’re a bloke?”

I was not happy.

I put on one of my own tee shirts, and she gave me a short denim skirt and a pair of high heel shoes, I had small feet and they fitted.

“Come on, why can’t I wear jeans and trainers?” I pleaded.

“Because we want you to raise no questions at all.”

She then spent ages with make up and doing my fingernails. Then she brushed out my hair, standing back to admire her handiwork.

“Bloody hell!” she said.

“Yeah, I look like a clown, right?” I said, dejectedly.

“Come with me, Coco,” she said, grabbing me by the hand.

Just by the showers were two full-length mirrors. She placed me in front of one mirror, and my heart missed a beat.

“Bloody hell!” I said, and she giggled.

“Some clown, hey?”

“That’s not me!” I said.

It wasn’t me. It was a stunningly attractive girl who had replaced me. I saw what she meant about my figure, as I had a narrow waist and larger hips. I struck a pose, tossing my hair, and the girl in the mirror smiled with joy. I was spell bound.

“Bloody hell!” I repeated.

“Well?” Jenny asked.

“Bloody hell!”

“Say something else, please Don.”

“I’m not Don,” I said, unable to take my eyes of the girl in the mirror. Something deep and satisfying happened inside me. I didn’t know it, but all I knew was I liked what I saw; it felt right.

“Okay, Don-na, say something.”

I looked at her and smiled.

“This might work after all,” I said. She paled.

“Don, no Donna, what’s happened to your voice?” she said, nervously.

“Nothing. This is how I sound, now,” I said, and realised that my voice was changed. It had become a girl’s voice. It was soft, a little higher, yet slightly husky and very sexy. It was this girl’s voice. My voice.

“Bloody hell!” Jenny said, a huge grin spreading across her face.

“What’s the matter Jenny?” I asked.

“Shit, you’ve been in there all along!” she said and I smiled. Strange feelings and emotions were coursing through me. I had the strangest feeling that I was now really me for the first time in my life. It was as if everything had been a sham, and now I had found an answer to the question I never dared ask - who am I?

“Maybe, I have just found out who I really am,” I said, looking back into the mirror.

“Don, maybe this was a bad idea.” Jenny said. She appeared to be having a real touch of the seconds.

I turned and looked at her, smiling.

“Don’t you like your monster, Dr Frankenstein?”

“Shut up Don, this isn’t funny. We are fucking with things we don’t know about,” she said, looking worried.

“My name is Donna, and we’d better go meet the guys,” I said, turning and starting to walk off towards the town. I loved the way the clothes felt; it was as if I had been set free. I had to concentrate on my walk, as the high heels were different to anything I was used to.

Jenny fell in step with me, frowning at the turn of events.

“Hey, lighten up, Jen, it’s only for a laugh, right?”

“Right,” she said, still frowning.

I smiled as I noticed many male heads turn as we passed. I tossed my hair, and felt a feeling of pure joy rise and come out as a laugh.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, still concerned.

“Never more so. I feel brilliant!” I said.

“Shit. I never meant it to go like this,” she said.

I stopped.

“Like what, Jenny? Like setting me free? Like being me for the first time in my life? Like it’s what I want?” I asked.

“Bloody hell!” she said, grinning at me. Then arm-in-arm we made for the town. There were a few boutiques that we would have passed, but I stopped and saw some really pretty dresses and skirts. I went in and half and hour later came out with a couple of carrier bags. Jenny had disappeared while I was trying on the third dress, and she met up with me as I came out.

“Where did you get to?” I asked.

“Never mind. All this, just for the one night?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, right!”

I smiled. It was so strange feeling completely at one with the world. Well, almost.

“Let’s take this stuff back to the site,” she suggested.

“What about the guys?” I asked.

“They can wait. If I know them, they’ll be more than happy to reduce the French stock of beer, and probably won’t even notice how long we’ve been gone.”

We went back to the tent, where she told me to get undressed.

I protested.

“Why? I actually like being like this,” I said.

“I know, trust me, please.”

I stripped off my tee shirt and bra. She stopped me there.

She took out a box and opened it. She took out two realistic silicone breast forms and adhesive. Now I knew what she had been buying.

“Where the hell did you find these?”

“There was a lingerie and sex shop back there, didn’t you see it?”

“Yes, but discounted it. For a bit, anyway,” I said with a smile.
 
 
Twenty minutes later, with my own breasts and a low cut top, Jenny and I walked back into town again. I even had my own shoulder bag with my own makeup in it. The breasts felt awesome. Their weight and whole appearance was so realistic that Jenny had to keep reminding me to stop looking down at them. I made up for it by admiring them in the shop windows instead.

The guys were still sitting at the pavement table. I noted that there were a few empty beer glasses in front of them. Jenny looked at me.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, licking my newly glossed red lips.

“Oh yes, more than sure,” I said.

We walked across the road. I noticed that they weren’t looking our way.

Jenny sat down in her seat and I sat in mine.

Steve turned to look at me. His eyes nearly fell out and his jaw almost hit the table.

“Hi baby, miss me?” I asked, oozing as much sex into my voice as I could.

“Bloody hell!” he said.

Mark looked round, and did his version of a goldfish impression.

“Any chance of a beer? Shopping can make a girl very thirsty,” I said.

Mark vaguely waved for the waiter, but when he arrived, he was incapable of speech.

“Jenny you want one?” I asked.

She just nodded, with a grin on her face.

“Deux biers, s’il vous plait,” I asked the waiter.

“Oui Mam’selle,” he replied and went off.

Steve was still trying to focus again.

“Shit!” he said.

“You don’t half know how to make a girl feel welcome,” I said, and put my hand on his knee. I glanced down and so did he. I smiled as I noticed my red-varnished nails. I also noticed a subtle swelling in the trouser department.

“Hey, pleased to see me, or what?” I teased.

He stared at me.

“Don?” he said, in a disbelieving tone.

“Nope, Don has gone away. I’m Donna. Pleased to meet you,” I said, holding my hand out. He took it and didn’t move. He stared at my face, then down at my swelling breasts and then my legs.

“Are you going to shake my hand, or what?” I asked.

He looked at our hands, and then stupidly, he shook my hand.

I smiled.

“There that wasn’t too hard now, was it?” I said, as if talking to a small child.

“Bloody hell!” he said.

“Shall we try a different pair of words, as I think you’ve got the hang of those two now?” I said.

“Huh?”

“Oh poor boy, you’re going backwards now,” I said.

Mark turned to Jenny.

“What the hell have you given him?”

“Nothing. You see before you the real Donna Armitage. She has only just awoken.”

“Bloody hell!” Mark said. I turned to him.

“Oh Mark, not you too?” I said.

He shook his head with a silly grin on his face.

“Don, I mean Donna, what? I mean, why, no, shit, who? No, where? Oh fuck, will someone tell me what the fuck has happened?” Steve stammered.

I turned to him, and smiled.

“Wow, almost a whole sentence, you are a clever boy,” I said, and he looked annoyed.

“Steve, it seems that I have now discovered who I really am, and I love it, so be a love and go with the flow,” I said, as the beers arrived.

Mark and Steve ordered another two beers. I looked at Jenny and raised my glass.

“Thanks Jen, for helping me find myself.”

She smiled, but still looked worried.

We sat in the sun for a while. I was very conscious of the glances that I was receiving from men, not least the man I was next to. Steve was turned on, and it disturbed me a little. I was beyond wondering whether I was gay, as I was now convinced that I was a girl, with a minor physical problem, but as for Steve? Time would tell.
 
 
As the afternoon wore on, he began to relax. Jenny persuaded Mark to take her for a walk along the front, leaving me alone with Steve. They told us that we would all meet back at the cafe at seven for a bite to eat before going to the nightclub.

He was very quiet. I had never seen him this quiet before, as he was always the life and soul of any party.

“You’re very quiet,” I said.

“Sorry.”

I looked at him, but he was unable to meet my eyes.

“Do I upset you that much? If I do, I’ll go and change back,” I offered.

“No. No, please don’t change. You look fine.”

I looked at him and he met my eyes.

“You look better than fine, you look beautiful.”

“Hey Steve, this is me, remember?” I said.

He held my stare.

“I remember, Donna, right?”

I looked at him, and I felt a tear come to my eye.

“I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” I said.

He took the last mouthful of beer from his glass. He put the empty glass down and smiled at me. My heart almost melted.

“Donna, we met a few moments ago. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

I smiled and he stood up. I looked up at him.

“Care to go for a walk?” he asked.

I nodded and finished my beer. He held his hand out to me, and he pulled me gently to my feet.

We walked slowly along the street. He was still quiet.

“Steve, you’re going to have to talk to me eventually. If I’ve upset you that much, then we can go back to the campsite, and I’ll put an end to this right now,” I said.

He stopped and turned to me.

“Have you any idea what you’ve done to me?” he asked.

I shook my head, and he smiled.

“You know that I’m always going on about the babes, and the fun I have?”

I nodded.

“It’s bollocks. Do you know who I envy above everyone else?”

“No.”

“Don bloody Armitage. That’s who. The little guy who’s always in control. He works away and passes everything. He gets on well with everyone without trying, and he doesn’t give a shit what people think about him.”

I was quiet, as I had no idea.

“You see, that time when we first met, I saw you in the room next door, and I thought, ‘Wow, a babe next door.’ It was a week before I realised that you were a bloke. By that time, it was too late, I already fancied you rotten.”

I was shocked and very surprised.

“You thought I was a girl?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was your hair and the quiet way you spoke. You always wore baggy clothes, and so I just thought you were just a little flat-chested and had a complex about it,” he said staring at my generous artificial bust.

I smiled.

“Go on,” I said.

“Well, when I did find out I was shattered, as I was trying to build up the courage to ask you on a date. By the time we’d become mates, I never knew what to talk to you about. I always felt so inferior to you, so I couldn’t face socialising with you in case I made a complete arse of myself. Now, please believe me, I am not gay, and I have never felt this way about anyone before, boy or girl, but, shit, I suppose I have to admit that what I feel for you is weird, but, I like you a lot and I don’t want to see you get hurt over this,” he said, and then went quiet.

We were standing there like a couple of lemons, and he suddenly looked so miserable, I felt sorry for him. I reached out and touched him on the arm.

“Hey, Steve, I’m so sorry, mate, I never knew. You should have said something,” I said.

“There was no reason for you to know. What could I say without making myself out to be a complete dick? When I found out you were a guy, it was as if my whole world crashed. I went through a terrible time of self-doubt. That is why I drank and spent all night on the tiles.”

I experienced a wave of depression until I saw our reflection in the shop window.

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hmm?”

“Look in the shop window, tell me what you see.”

He looked and shook his head, and then saw the reflection of a pretty girl in a short skirt and a lovely figure, holding the arm of a tall, good-looking guy.

“Well?”

“That’s us! That’s what the world sees. We have the power to be whomever and whatever we want to be. I want to be that girl, will you help?”

“Really, why?”

“I don’t really know, but it will be fun finding out. Even if it for a few hours.”

He grinned.

“Okay, on one condition.”

“What?”

“As soon as you feel awkward, stop.”

“Steve, you still don’t get it do you?”

“Don’t get what?”

“I felt awkward for the first nineteen years of my life, I just stopped as soon as I became Donna.”

“Shit! For real?”

“For real.”

“Bloody hell!”

“You said that already, we’ve gone back to the start,” I said, and he grinned. He held out his hand, and I took it. We walked up the street, hand-in-hand.

I tried to explain my problems to him.

“You see, while you were having a crisis, so was I, but in a different way. I saw you as the social animal, with so many friends and loads of different interests. I was a loner, feeling awkward about myself and not knowing why. Shy and unable to socialise, enjoying my work, my guitar and my computer. I get on with everyone, yes. I have no close friends, except you three. I don’t think I’ve ever had close friends.”

“What do you mean about feeling awkward?” he asked.

“I never knew why, but I just didn’t feel right. I’m now beginning to realise why.”

“You mean, you like being like this?”

“No, Steve, like is not the word. I simply adore being like this. You can’t see it, but my soul is soaring with the angels!”

He smiled.

“What a couple of weirdos we are.”

“No. I might have been a weirdo, but I feel too wonderfully alive to be anything other than me now!”

“You certainly look wonderful. So, what does that make me?”

I stopped and looked up at him. The fact I was holding another bloke’s hand seemed just right, and I didn’t feel gay. I felt like a girl.

“Steve, it makes you my friend, is that so terrible?”

“No, not at all.”

He smiled and we started walking again. He squeezed my hand, and from that simple action, my body responded with a thousand flutters of excitement deep with in me.

He stopped outside a jewellery shop.

“I’d like to get you a present,” he said.

“I don’t need anything.”

He pointed to a pair of delightful silver dolphin earrings.

“Those would look great on you.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t had both my ears pierced.”

He pointed to the sign in French.

“You’re the linguist, what does that say?”

“Ears Pierced.”

“Well, I’ll pay.”

Several moderately painful minutes later, I was sporting some lovely dolphin earrings.

“Thanks,” I said, kissing his cheek as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He stopped and looked at me.

“This is heavy!” he said, all serious.

“Why, can’t a girl kiss her boyfriend in public?”

“Don’t tease me, Donna.”

“Oh Steve, we’ve lived in close proximity for two years. Are you a friend?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a boy?”

“Yes.”

“Am I a girl?”

“Yes,” he said, with no hesitation.

“Then, logically, you must be a boyfriend, and I must be a girlfriend.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what I mean too,” I said, and he went red.

“Would you buy earrings for a bloke you knew?”

“No way.”

“How about a girl who fancies you?”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Then, as I said, thanks!”

I kissed him again. This time he held me, but before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me on the lips. Something from deep within me surged up and I responded with a passion I never knew I had. I opened my lips, our tongues touched and I allowed his tongue to explore my mouth as I explored his with mine. He held me close to him, while I ached with desire for him. I could feel that he was aroused, so I had to break off.

“As I said, thanks,” I said, with a little smile.

He stared at me, as I took out my lipstick and repaired my lips. I then took a tissue and wiped the makeup from his face.

We walked down to the beach and sat and looked at the sea. He placed an arm around me and held me close. I snuggled into him, feeling really content.

After a while, he spoke.

“Donna, where the hell are we going with this?”

“I don’t know. How about minute by minute?”

“I’m confused.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” he said, with a short laugh.

We watched the surf rolling in for a while.

“Donna, did you ever know that you were, were, you know?”

I laughed.

“Did I know that inside I was a girl?”

“Something like that.”

“No. Well that is not strictly true, perhaps. But I always managed to deny it.”

“So you never fancied me then?”

“As a bloke? Never. But I fancy you rotten now.”

He laughed, but looked worried.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to embarrass you by making you have a homosexual relationship,” I said.

“Too late Donna! Just keep being Donna, and we will both be fine.”

I was silent.

“Shit, this is a mess!” I said.

“What do we do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“Honestly?”

“Why not? It’s no good pretending to anyone anymore,” I said.

“Donna, I want to be able to love you.”

I was silent again, as tears rolled down my cheeks.

He saw I was crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I’ve said the wrong thing again.”

“No, you haven’t. I just want to be a real girl for you.”

“You are a real girl,” he said, but we both knew the truth.

“No, I’m not. Not yet, but if you want me to be, there are ways,” I said.

“Shit Donna, you mean surgery?”

“Unless you have a magic wand?”

He shook his head.

“That's expensive,” he said.

“And painful.”

“Yeah, that too.”

“But I would go for it, if you wanted me to.”

“What do you want, Donna?”

“I want to be a real girl. Above everything else.”

“This is just the first day, are you sure?”

I nodded. I was.

“Then go for it, not for me, but for yourself,” he said.

I thought about that for a while.

“I don’t think I could go through it alone.”

“You won’t have to, I’ll be there.”

“You deserve a real girl, who will have your babies, and who can….”

He kissed me to shut me up.

“Don’t ever tell me what I deserve,” he said.

He held me and I cried for a while. I was very confused.

“Come on, let’s go, we have to meet the others,” he said, helping me up. He brushed the sand off my skirt, and as he touched me, I desired him once more. The desire wasn’t a sexual desire. I desired him to love me in the fullest sense. That meant physically, mentally and spiritually. The thought of penetration as part of that process was erotic, but very scary. It wasn’t the most crucial factor, and to be honest, I was beginning to feel afraid of what I was becoming.
 
 
We walked back up to the front, and headed to the café where we agreed to meet. Mark and Jenny were already there, and looked at us with some surprise. Steve had his arm over my shoulders, while I had my arm around his waist. We looked like lovers, which was almost what we were.

“Hey guys,” said Mark, exchanging a meaningful glance with Jenny.

We sat and Jenny noticed my earrings.

“I like your dolphins.”

“Yeah, aren’t they neat? Steve bought them for me,” I said.

“Hey sweetie, do you want a beer?” Steve said to me. I thought Mark’s eyebrows were about to take off.

“Thanks, love, just a small one. I could do with some food,” I replied, so he waved for the waiter.

We ordered, and I noticed that Jenny was looking curiously at me.

“Oh stop worrying, we have to get into role,” I said, they both laughed and tensions released, a little.

We ate a very pleasant meal. Steve and I were now at ease with one and other. Jenny and Mark had a fit as they saw how tactile we were, and when I kissed him, I thought Jenny was going to choke.

“Look, Donna, don’t go too far with getting into role. It was a joke, just a bit of fun. Okay?” she said.

I stared at her.

“Jenny, I'm having more fun now than at any other time in my life, okay?” I said.
 
 
We finished our meal and walked over the road to the nightclub. Several guys were being turned away as they had no girls, but I smiled sweetly at the doorman as he let us in without a second glance.

The evening was fantastic. The band was great, if a little loud, and I was in heaven. I danced all night with Steve, and we ended up snogging alongside everyone else to some very slow numbers. Mark and Jenny shrugged and just accepted us for who we were, as neither Steve nor I cared about anything at that moment.

It was two o’clock in the morning when we made our way to the campsite, and we crawled into our tent in the darkness. Steve lit a small calorgaz lamp in our side. The giggles and grunts from Mark and Jenny signalled what they were up to, and I grinned at Steve.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious, and he reached out and took my hand.

“Look, I have no expectations. We have both been through a lot.”

I touched a finger to his lips, and took off my top. I then took my skirt off, and rolled my tights off.

“Donna, what are y…?”

“Shh,” I said.

I took my bra off, and my false breasts swung free. He stared at them, as if hypnotised.

I reached out and undid his belt, and he wriggled out of his trousers. He lost his shirt and I pulled his jockey shorts off.

I turned out the light, and we snuggled together under the sleeping bag.

I held his throbbing cock in my hand.

“Donna, don’t.”

“Shh. I said, and bent down and took him into my mouth.

I couldn’t believe I was actually giving him a blow-job. But the fact I really wanted to and was enjoying it astounded me beyond words. I tasted his liquid as it seeped from the little hole on the top of the velvety smooth helmet.

I took as much of him as I dared into my mouth. He moaned with pleasure, thrusting deeper into my throat. I kept this going for a while, as his thrusting became faster. He came, but the natural reaction was to let go and gag. I forced myself to swallow, and found a heady sense of lust hit me as I tasted him.

I came up and kissed him.

I took my knickers off, and felt his cock soft against my tummy.

“I wanted you inside me, but am afraid,” I whispered.

He wanted me, but I now wanted him inside me more than anything else in the world. We both had something holding us back, so we just cuddled. I was satisfied just being held, secure in the knowledge I could satisfy him, albeit orally. I didn’t have the bottle to take that step over that invisible line to allow him to anally penetrate me. I felt like a girl. To do that would be to acknowledge I was not equipped as a girl, and I didn’t want to be reminded of my true gender. However, in thinking about it, I was reminded, and I almost cried such was my internal anguish.

I had not thought about my own genitals, but I was surprised that I had not even managed an erection. My little worm was lying there, and compared to his, it was so insignificant.

I curled up next to him, and we fell asleep. I smiled as I realised that this was the first time I had a sexual experience, and it was with a man. I was as much of a woman as I could ever be.

Or so I thought.

---

 
To Be Continued...