Run Before the Wind 2

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Run before the Wind

copyright Leah Hanover 2012

A note about robbing a bank and getting away with it:

Banks like big bills because they always have a stack or a hundred for new bills that they can give you. What you can make with as few as a thousand hundreds, or in other words ten bundles, takes five thousand twenties, or in other words fifty bundles. That is a mere one hundred thousand dollars.

We took almost two thousand times that amount. Now, I’m sure somewhere in all of those bundles there were nice sequential bills. I was keeping a lookout for them. For now, I was using re-bundled packs. It’s not that they were untraceable, as the serial numbers being recorded would allow the tracking of them.

It is just less likely that they are recording the serial numbers on the money that comes in from customers. Now, eventually, I’m sure, the automatic counting machines will be fitted with an electronic eye that will read and record serial numbers at the same time as it is counting, but until then I was good.

Especially since I was one woman and I had almost twenty million dollars.

The first thing I did upon getting an apartment was test out my credentials. That is to say I went into the DMV and updated my address. I was nervous the entire time that I stood in that line.

I was in the middle of a government building. By this time I knew all about facial recognition, as it played a huge roll in my case. If someone suggested trying the escaped felon against the people in that DMV that specific day then I was screwed. The moment I was out of there, though, I was a little safer.

It was unlikely they would be checking my male image against my female self.

That was something that Kat and I were discussing in our sessions: my reasons for doing this.

Back to the DMV. I was chatted up by a couple of guys, and this without makeup of any sort. Sure, I styled my hair, and had invested in some of the butterfly clips that Ham had used for my passport photo, but it was nothing special. I still used the vanilla lotion on my chest, however, which did made it feel so smooth that I’d begun using it all over.

Maybe that was what attracted people to me at first, my scent…not that it really matters now, but it is an interesting thing to think about.

So, I did my best to be friendly without being inviting. Not sure it worked as the guys around me kept chatting me up, which added to my nervousness.

Eventually, I made it to the front of the line where I gave them the change form and they made a note in their records. As soon as I received my first bill/notice to that address they’d issue me a new license.

I was pulled over on my way home.

I pulled my insurance and title information out of the glove box and then looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a little mussed so I arranged it while the officer was approaching. I turned to look at what was taking so long and jumped. He was standing there staring at me.

“I’m sorry officer, but…”

“It’s alright, Miss. Can I see your driver’s license please?”

I handed him the small stack of papers.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

“Frankly, officer, I have no idea. I signaled at the turn back there. I came to a complete stop at the stop sign. I’ve been within two miles an hour of the speed limit…”

I rattled off all of my actions since leaving the DMV. He looked a little shocked and was staring at me with his mouth slightly open.

When I stopped he shook himself and smiled at me. He genuinely smiled.

“You certainly have a good memory for detail, Miss Hanover.”

I smiled back. My memory wasn’t autobiographical or anything, but I’d always been pleased with it. It certainly helped with tests. I’d felt I was cheating on the SATs since I had a virtual crib sheet in my head. That didn’t stop me from scoring in the 99th percentile.

No, I’m not giving you my actual score. A lady has to have some secrets.

“I pulled you over because you don’t have any plates on your car.”

“What!”

“From your title information, it would seem someone took the temp tag.”

I was embarrassed to say the least. I was afraid that someone would steal it, so I took it with me. It was in my purse.

“I’m sorry officer, it seems that’s the one thing I forgot.” My cheeks were flaming red and he laughed a bit at that.

“Wait here a moment.”

I waited as he went to his car. A few minutes later he came back with a plastic clamshell.

He took the temporary tags from me, put them in the clamshell, and put them on the back of my car.

“That should resolve that problem. Now I don’t have to give you a ticket.”

He stood there for a moment looking at me. It was so intense that I began to blush again and looked away.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but would you mind if I asked you out?”

I said the first thing that came to mind, “I’m sorry, officer, but I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”

“Oh…well…he’s a lucky man. Continue to drive safely, Miss Hanover.”

As I drove my usual careful self, I wondered at why I’d said that. It was all linked with what I was talking to Kat about.

I know that not giving her last name here doesn’t protect her at all. Let me just say that the department of corrections already know who she is, and she’s protected by doctor-patient confidentiality.

Basically, she was under no obligation to let the state know where I was unless I threatened violence to myself or others.

And another thing, do you think I’d actually be writing this and posting it on the web if they were still looking for me? There, that should be a sufficiently obfuscatory statement that we can get onto the rest of the story.

And yes, I keep avoiding the question, even though it is one I posed to myself. The answer is that I really didn’t know why I was doing this. I was sure before I went into the penal system that I was 100% male and heterosexual at that.

Sure, I looked at the other guys in the showers, but I assumed everyone did that. You know, compare themselves to their peers. Apparently guys are too uncomfortable with themselves to do that. Because I actually checked the other guys out, I knew that I was decidedly average in size and appearance down there.

Strangely that had never bothered me in the slightest.

On the other hand, walking around as a woman, I felt wholly inadequate knowing that my breasts were fake. I wondered at Kat’s strength, to go through each day knowing that there was nothing science could do to return that integral part of herself.

We talked about that one day, instead of talking about how inadequate that I felt having to slip those bits of silicone into my bra every morning. It was one of the few times I saw her break down and cry.

I got up and walked over to her and put my arms around her and held her as she cried.

“That was very unprofessional of me.”

“No, it was human. Anyway, I know what you’re going through, as it’s a lot like what I’m going through now. Sure, I could get breast implants or something like that, but you never could. There’s nothing left to augment.”

“You feel less of a woman because you lack breasts?”

“Of course I do! I look around at all of the other woman, knowing that they naturally have what I only aspire to.”

She smiled at me as I worked through exactly what I’d said. It was one of those ‘Aha’ moments. There was an Einstein in my head saying, “Eureka! I think she’s finally got it.”

It was only in that first unguarded moment, when I was trying to comfort a friend, that I realized the truth of my situation.

We talked for another two hours that day, Kat always scheduled me last for some reason, and another four the next day.

It was exactly like the catharsis that is talked about by so many psychoanalysts, even if most of their methods are merde, pardon my French.

The main thing we discussed was the fact that I couldn’t go through the normal ‘legal’ process of becoming myself.

I was a fugitive on the run from the law using a fake ID in the gender that I now understood was correct for me. I wanted to go through the entire process right now. I wanted to take the necessary steps so that I was 100% in appearance what I felt on the inside.

Unfortunately, Kat is a very intelligent woman. She wouldn’t let me rush headlong into this, as at least part of it might have been caused by the situation that I’d just escaped from. I might want to be a woman because that was how I was treated in prison, as their little bitch whore.

My words, not hers.

Me, I understood that I’d always tried to relate to my peers as a woman would. We discussed this a lot, Kat and I. We discussed the differences in the way that men and women deal with the world around them.

Everything we discussed was in generalities, as there are always exceptions to any rule. I realized that I was just one more example of those exceptions. I loved wearing skirts, but I could easily see myself wearing lycra shorts underneath. Skirts were sexy and flirty, but the shorts would allow me to be as active as I still wanted to be without exposing myself to the entire world.

I still hadn’t gotten around to wearing makeup. I had a smooth complexion over all, and with no beard growth I’d never need it to conceal that I was male.

On that front, I’d purchased a new electrolysis machine by this point, and had gone to town on my torso. I loved the feeling of being hairless on my legs, and wanted to have that feeling all over…within reason.

I went so far as to denude my balls, which I have to say hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. I briefly considered removing them, but even I knew how many blood vessels fed the area, and how really stupid that would have been.

I brought the entire concept of removing them to Kat at one of our sessions. Again, we ran into the problem of my ID gender not matching my sex.

And then, I had the smartest idea I’d had in quite a while. I drove over to Ham’s house.

“Hey, Ham, could you let me up?”

“Who’s me?”

“Leah.”

The door buzzed immediately and I walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment.

“Good to see you, girl. What can I do for you now?”

“Well, it’s kind of a weird request.” I spelled out for him what I wanted, and he looked at me as if he’d been clubbed by a baseball bat.

“I thought that you were joking with me before. There’s no way that you’re a dude.”

Blushing fiercely, I striped down in front of him. I felt as though I were baring my soul to him.

“Put your clothing back on, Leah. I’m so sorry for doubting you, but you could see where I could make that mistake.”

“I look like a guy in a dress.”

“Damn, girl. You look like a lot of things, but a guy in a dress isn’t one of them.”

It was my turn to be shocked.

“Girl, I just saw you naked. I saw everything that you do to give yourself a more female appearance. And even after that I have to keep reminding myself that you’re not as female as you seem.”

“What are you talking about?”

“To put it bluntly? I’m about as heterosexual as they come. Brad has tried me a couple of times, and the idea of it all just sort of sickens me. I like Brad, he’s a good friend, but I could never have sex with him. When you were standing there completely nude, the only thing I could think about was fucking your brains out.”

I blushed a deep red and hid my face in my hair. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I was even turned on a bit by his need for me. Not enough to tell him so, but I really appreciated the attention he was showing me.

“If I can do anything to help you make your outside and inside match, then I’m perfectly happy to do so.”

“What would I owe you?”

“A pretty smile.”

“What?” I asked, smiling at him.

“Yep, that smile. Look, I figure that I’ve already taken all the real payment I need. This is a favor for one of the prettiest girls I know.”

I blushed and just smiled at him. I didn’t know that I actually believed him about me being pretty, but I would accept his help.

“So, now I just have to figure out how to pay for all of this.”

“Simple, set up a health savings account.”

“Sure, simple if all of my money were in a bank. I think that they sort of frown on depositing millions in cash.”

“Leave that one to me,” Ham said with a blinding smile. “Just give me the total amount that you need to deposit.”

I gave him the remaining amount in the bags. He just laughed.

“I should have held out for more than just a smile.”

“If you want…”

“Hell no. I’d prefer to have you as a friend.” The way he said it suggested that he was hoping that after…everything that I might consider him as more than a friend. It made me worry for a second about putting my confidence in him. Only for a moment, though, because I only had to look around me and realize that he had as much to lose with all of this as I did.

“Give me a week and I’ll have what you need to get the money deposited.”

I spent the next week considering what I was going to do for my future. Before all of this had happened, I’d been working toward college, but now…I had no school record. Without a school record, I really had no future. Leah Hanover wasn’t even a high school graduate.

I considered for a moment going to Ham to get him to hack me into a school somewhere, but that just felt too much like cheating. I think that at this point, I’d decided that I had broken enough laws for a lifetime.

Now it was time for me to make my own way in the world. Sure, I could actually survive in comfort for the rest of my life off the money I already had, but I’d only robbed the bank in the first place because I thought I could do it.

I was driving around town on the second day, when a billboard caught my attention. It was talking about GED prep courses. It was my answer. No, it wasn’t four years of high school with academic and physical extracurricular activities.

What it would do, was allow me the opportunity to take the SAT exam again. This time I planned on getting a perfect score.

I had a few days to kill, so I purchased a GED prep book and got to studying. Other than sleeping that’s all I did for the next two days. I called the number on the billboard to figure out when I would be able to take the test, but the information that the woman shared with me was a little disheartening.

They only gave the GED once a month. I’d missed the test by a week and would need to wait another three weeks or so before I would be able to take the test again.

I knew from past experience that they only offered the SAT exam twice a year, so I’d have to get that one taken care of at a much later date.

So, here I had time on my hands, and not a little of it. I was already nineteen, soon to be twenty, and I still hadn’t even started college.

I felt behind in so many ways at this point.

I may not have any friends to go with any more, but I could still go hiking and camping. I waited until the end of the week and then went and visited Ham again. He had the documentation that I was looking for, and one paper I wasn’t.

“What the hell is this, Ham?”

“It is your grandfather’s last will and testament leaving you a total, in cash, after taxes, of just under sixteen million dollars.”

“Wait, after taxes?”

“If you can hack the Pentagon and NSA simultaneously, the IRS isn’t all that hard. How do you think I’ve paid my takes the past fifteen years?”

“Like everyone else?”

“Of course you jest. No, I just told the IRS that I was paid in full. I even overpaid as far as they are concerned. I definitely don’t want an audit.”

I laughed at him a bit and he joined in. Ham was definitely a character.

“So, the other documents that you wanted are all there: A referral to an endocrinologist, a statement showing that you are one Michael Hanover who is transitioning into Leah Hanover, and sundry other documents to help you become who you want to.”

I thanked him and gave him a kiss on the cheek to complete ‘payment’ for the documents and left his apartment for what I hoped would be the last time. It’s not that he wasn’t a good guy, but that I needed to try to not associate with the criminal element. It set a bad precedent for my life and increased my risk of getting caught again.

I woke up screaming my head off that night. I dreamed that they came and took me while I was sleeping. In my dream I was fully a woman and they threw me back in with the animals who I’d only just escaped from. I woke up when my old cell mate came at me telling me he’d show me what it really meant to be a woman.

For some reason I thought that escaping prison would make me free.

While I sat there rocking myself to sleep in the recliner I’d purchased to begin furnishing my apartment I remembered a story that my grandmother used to tell me.

There was a child of the people a long time ago who was afraid of the person she was growing into. She was cruel and taunted the warriors when the left on the hunt. She told them that only the wind was as fast as she was.

The wind, hearing her claims, came before the people in all of his terrible majesty. He said that anyone as bold as the girl would have to prove her words. So, she began to run before the Wind was ready. Each time the wind came to a halt so she could catch her breath, she would run before the Wind started again.

Time and time again she would leave the Wind behind, and time and time again he would catch up.

Eventually the Wind just decided he would blow until she grew tired. She ran and ran before the force of the Wind. Eventually she was dashed upon the rocks.

I don’t know what my grandmother or her people meant to tell with the story, but I took from it that you can’t ever escape your actions. No matter how long you run before the wind, the wind is always there.

Much like the little girl in the story, I was trying to outrun the wind.

I called Kat that night, and we talked for a long time on the phone. I told her about the papers that I’d gotten from Ham, and she told me that it was a good idea that I started to transition.

As she put it, I was already well into my Real Life Test, as she called it, and I seemed to be adjusting well to most everything.

I thanked her for listening to me whine, and she told me that I wasn’t whining. Women talked to their friends, and she considered herself to be my first real female friend.

I smiled as I went back to sleep.

The next day I drove out into the woods to the bunker and loaded all of the remaining money into my Jeep. The bags were non-descript as far as an oversized hockey bag can be, and it only took a little finagling to get them my vehicle. I called a security company as soon as I got into town.

Of all the things I can be called, I won’t be called foolish. I was a robbery waiting to happen as long as I had sixteen million dollars in cash in my pretty plumb colored Jeep. The security guys came and transferred my money into their armored car, and then I followed them to my bank in town. All in all it was a bit anti-climactic.

I signed a million and a half documents, gave the bank manager a copy of the last will and testament, which he called the county recorder’s office about, and in the end, I had a bank account with my name on it that contained just over sixteen million dollars in it.

I never went to that branch again.

It’s not that I’m paranoid or anything, but if anyone saw the size of the transaction and somehow linked that to the almost twenty million we stole, I’d be screwed.

Not that I’d mind if it was the nice police officer…

I went bright red at the thought. It was becoming more and more obvious to me that I was a heterosexual female.

Not only that, but I think I was only just beginning to realize that I’d always been emotionally female, and emotionally I was heterosexual. I knew, on an emotional level, that what I’d always been missing in every failed relationship in the past was a good man.

I smiled to myself at the thought.

In my hands was the key to that possible future. A few pieces of paper, and a couple of years were the only things separating me from this wonderful vista opening up before me.

I set up an Health Savings Account with my bank to cover my medical expenses. I would be covering my own medical costs, and so that let me have the final say on any procedures.

I made a call to the endocrinologist to set up an appointment. It would be in a couple of days, so again I was stuck with nothing to do.

It seems that driving around the city is enough to solve most of my problems. A simple drive brought me in touch with the GED information. This time I ran into a little place called The Rock Garden.

I didn’t have any clothing that I considered appropriate, so I took my new visa black debit card and went into a lady footlocker. After a spending spree that didn’t even cause a ripple in the entirety of my bank account I had some exercise clothing and a pair of way too tight shoes.

I wore my new clothing out of the store and went back to a place I had thought about going into so many times in the past, but I’d never had the balls, for lack of a better term. I was wearing two lycra bottoms. The longer pair was pink, which I wore underneath. The shorter pair was black, over the top. It ended up looking like a fashion statement instead of me just wearing two pairs of spandex shorts. I knew people were going to be looking at my ass, and wearing two would keep my bits hidden from prying eyes. I’d checked myself out in the mirror from every possible angle, and I stretched as much as I could and still see myself in the mirror.

Entering the gym, for lack of a better name, I was immediately beset by all of the trainers that I could see. I picked the leanest looking one, as he was likely the best climber, and I let him fit me for a harness.

After we clipped the safety rope in, I began climbing the wall. The Rock Garden was a climbing wall. Well, I guess to call it a climbing wall is a little misleading. It was the climbing wall.

They’d put up numerous different hand and foot holds on a wall. They were color coded by both size and spacing, so all you had to do was pick any color for an easy climb, or go for specific colors for greater and greater difficulty climbs.

After climbing the easy way a couple of times, I worked my way into harder and harder climbs.

Don’t get the wrong idea here. I came back over the next couple of days, since I had nothing else to do before my doctor’s appointment. The same trainer kept singling me out, and I have to say that I didn’t mind too much. He was good looking and had a really pleasant smile.

I loved the attention, to tell the truth. I even caught him staring at my ass a couple of times. I felt a slight stirring in my nether regions, and had to focus on my climb. I really didn’t want to give myself away at this point, or ever really.

On the third day, the night before I would have my appointment, something unexpected happened.

“So, Leah, can I ask you something?”

I smiled at him and said, “sure.” Life was good. I’d just gotten a good workout. My arms felt like jelly. I could barely life the water bottle to my mouth. I was covered in sweat, and my hair was lank. I needed a shower. It was the first thing I planned on doing when I got home, in fact.

“Would you go out for a drink with me tonight?”

I choked a bit on my water.

“Sorry for asking, the other guys were sure you were a lesbian, but I had to at least try my luck…”

“No, that’s not the problem. I’d be happy to go out with you. I just really need a shower. In fact, that’s what I was thinking when you asked me. It was so out of left field for me. Here I was thinking how ugly I must look and then you ask me out.”

“Leah, I don’t know why you think that. You have to be one of the best looking women I’ve ever met.”

“No, that’s not…”

“Just trust me on this. On a scale of one to ten, you’re definitely an eight.”

I was floored. As a former guy, I didn’t think I rated better than a three or a four as a girl. Not that I was a dog, just I didn’t see what was attracting all these people to me.

It had to be the vanilla body lotion.

I’d spent so much time looking at him in shock, and trying to figure out what I was going to say, that he got a disappointed look on his face and began to turn away.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to this. No one has ever really asked me out before.”

“Well, the polite thing is to say yes,” he said.

“Yes, Josh, I’ll go out with you tonight.”

He hugged me for a moment before pulling back. “You really do need a shower.”

I laughed at him. He gave me his number and I gave him mine, as well as my address, and then I went out to get ready.

The first thing I did when I got home was to remove the tape that had been assisting me, along with the two spandex shorts, to keep it smooth down there. I wanted to put on fresh tape after my shower anyway.

I know, you assumed that the reason that I wore two was to keep it tight. Mostly it was because I was exceptionally self-conscious when it came to my backside. I knew that I did not have a shapely backside.

Well, before today I knew that I wasn’t pretty. After my shower I just stood there looking at myself in the mirror. I still couldn’t see it. Every time I looked in the mirror I still saw a thin boy. I just didn’t see it.

Ham told me that even naked he saw me as a girl. I stood there looking at myself, and even with my lacy black underwear on I saw a boy.

Yes, I’d purchased some fancy lingerie. It made me feel sexy. Even if I still thought that people saw a boy when they looked at me, it made me feel so feminine to have it on.

That was part of the problem I faced. I knew, deep inside, that I needed to be a woman, but I also knew that there was no way that people could really be seeing me as such.

I really believed that the best I could hope for in a companion was someone like Brad: a homosexual man who would treat me like a man. I’d never really be able to have someone like Josh. Someone who saw me as a woman…or so he said.

I put on a little plum colored lipstick to try and heighten the effect, try to make myself look more female, and still I thought I looked like a boy. I did like how the lipstick looked on me, though. Well, it was more of a gloss than a lipstick really. It seemed to really pop with my dark hair and pale skin.

Looking at the time I realized that it was running out, so I began to frantically look through my closet for something to wear.

I ended up in one of my dresses. I hadn’t taken the opportunity to actually wear them yet. I’d tried them on in the store, of course, and then when I got home to verify the fit, but since then they’d just hung in my ever so slowly growing wardrobe.

It was a sleeveless dress with a shallow scoop at the neckline. It hid the fact that I didn’t have anything real of my own underneath it, without being insanely modest. The skirt started just below my bust line and flared a bit from there. I thought it hid the fact that I was completely lacking in hips. It ended just below my knee, and was long enough that I felt comfortable wearing just my lacy lingerie under it.

I got a pair of low-heeled shoes and went to wait by the door.

I was going to use the clutch that I’d gotten specifically for this dress for the first time as well. I realized I still had a little time, so I went to fix my hair again. In the end I was actually somewhat happy with the result. I still saw the boy hiding in there, but the overall image was very feminine.

On impulse I kissed my mirror with my very pretty lips. I left a nice kiss mark on the mirror and smiled to myself.

When the knock finally came I leapt to my feet and went to answer the door.

“Hi, I’m Josh and I’m here to pick up Leah?”

I laughed at him, “If you’d like I can change into some of my workout clothing.”

He did a double take and just stared at me. “You know what I said earlier about you only being an eight? I was so wrong. You defy the scale completely.”

I blushed at his comment. I locked up my apartment behind me and followed him out to his car. He actually held the door for me. I slid in, careful not to show anything. That would be for later…much later I thought after a moment. Sometime when I could be a complete girl for him…or someone like him.

I wondered what new revelations the rest of the night would bring.

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Comments

Fun story, but not plausible.

If you were setting this story in the 70's, I think our protagonist would have a good chance. Now days, every bit of money is marked and may soon be chipped. And they have machines that can read the identity of the money. So, almost as soon as you spent it, you'd be toast.

To get it laundered, you'd have to go overseas, and would run a terrible risk of being caught up by some very predatory and nasty sub humans. I won't call them people.

Other than that, it is quite fun to read in spite of the fact that transition stories generally really bore the death out of me. Been there done that, have the ribbon, you know.

I still think that the best srs surgeons are in Thailand, or possibly India or Iran. Getting in and out of Iran can be problematic but I know people who say it is not a problem as long as you have never visited Israel. I think some of the best minds are in Iran.

I tried to just blow through my transition. I was sick of being one of the enemy. The system would not let me, and I did not know that I could just sneak overseas and get it done without a Doctor here signing a thing.

Nice start.

Gwendolyn

Plausibility

I have no intentions of making this a transition story. Think of it as more of a story that has a transition in it.

I hope to actually get past that part fairly quickly.

As to whether or not it is plausible: There are people who feel like you do that the system is perfect. There are people who feel that the system is flawed and there are exploitable weaknesses. Unless you work in the specific bank that exists in my story where she took the money, you wouldn't know whether or not these people did more than simply count the cash and put it in the vault.

I don't know it either.

Remember, though, that this is a story about a felon on the run and please do not make assumptions about where I am taking the story.

Still fiction

it seems to me that a lot of people forget this is a fiction site & not reality in any way..... that being said let me say that I like the story & the premise you have begun with good writing and a nice flow to the whole thing keep up the good work

paper money has been marked

paper money has been marked for a long time, it's called a serial number.... being able to track the serial numbers is an entirely different matter.

Banks do use GPS trackers in money now, instead of dye packs, in some places.