Away With The Faeries: A Forced Feminisation Chronicle

Brian Jenkins stared at his monitor in a mixture of horror and tooth gnashing rage. The email in front of him showed his every dirty secret of years of web browsing – every porn site, every picture viewed, weblogs of every chat and every cyber-sex session and every email or comment ever sent. Brian always thought of his online life as a by-product of long hours and a healthy sex drive – after all he was only twenty-three – but seen all at once he had to admit it looked like the track of a major pervert with a penchant for kink! Worse, the email ended with the words

“When you receive this, call the number below urgently, or this email will go to the Head of the school you work for, the General Teaching Council every other teacher at your school and the Head of every other school in the county. If you think I’m bluffing, their email addresses are listed below.”

And they were! Every last damn one of them! Brian had only been a qualified teacher for a couple of years and at his current school for only nine months. Nothing he’d done online was illegal but he was pretty sure they didn’t need a legal reason to get rid of him if they wanted to – he just hadn’t been employed long enough to have any rights.

The email wasn’t signed, just the telephone number sat at the bottom, a challenge and a taunt. What else could he do – Brian rang the number.

“Brian. I’ve been expecting you.”.

The voice was male, youngish, deep, rich with the sound of someone carefully not laughing and... familiar?

“Who’s that?”

“All in good time. I take it you got my message?”

“Unfortunately for you, yes. You may be good with computers but you aren’t very bright with law. Don’t you realise you’ve just sent me convincing evidence of blackmail, computer hacking and online stalking. You could get years for this.”

“Really? Look at your screen.”

At that exact moment Brian’s computer restarted itself.

“Go check your emails again. Take your time.”

Brian snarled. The incriminating email had completely vanished.

“This phone number – “

“Is for a disposable phone bought with cash. The email is completely untraceable. The tracks I left behind whilst tracing your activity are untraceable– not that anyone the local police are likely to have could trace them if they weren’t. This is a country where they hardly bother to chase up burglaries. What do you think are the chances of them hiring an outside expert on your say so?”

“You might be surprised!”

“Not half as surprised as they would be when they checked your browsing history.”

Brian checked himself. The thought of unsympathetic eyes going through his online habits wasn’t appealing, he had to admit. On the other hand, neither was the way this conversation was going.

“What if I tell you to piss off?”

“Oh come on, you already know the answer to that question.”

“Why?”

“I want something from you. A favour.”

“What kind of favour?”

“I’m going to a fancy dress party on Saturday. I want someone to come with me.”

“What? You go to all this trouble, you threaten me just because you’re too scared to go to a sodding party on your own? What are you, nuts?”

“Hardly. You’ll find out I’m very practical. Certainly not nuts enough to let you off the hook now you’re on it ”

The voice twisted a little as it said this, anger threatening to overwhelm the good humour for the first time.

“Dream on. Enjoy your party!”

“I will. Enjoy unemployment.”

“Oh shit. Wait!”

“Why should I?”

“I’ll do it, all right. Just the party, OK?”

“Nope. Every time you piss me about the stakes get a little higher. Now the party is your first favour. You owe me another favour besides that.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can. In fact I’ve just done it again. Now you owe me another favour on top of that one too.”

“Shit! OK, just stop!”

“Alright, but remember, no mucking around. You do your favour and you do it cheerfully, or the stakes go up every time. Got it?

“Got it. But why? Who are you? I know I know you from somewhere.”

“You do. Don’t worry. You’ll find out. Your costume will arrive by post in a couple of days. When it does call this number again and I’ll tell you what to do next.”

And with that Brian was left with nothing but a string of unanswered questions and a buzzing tone in his ear.

Luckily work wasn’t too challenging that day – the usual string of half-witted teenagers trying to challenge his authority; the usual string of crestfallen faces as he dished out appropriate punishments or withering sarcasm. Some of them looked as if they’d like to try more than verbal assault. A part of Brian – a part that he disliked and worked hard to keep under wraps - almost wished they would. Despite his slim form and less than average height he was from a hard school. Abandoned as a child, brought up in care, he had courage, brains – and a cruel streak a mile wide. That, he reflected, as he strode through the recreation ground that lunchtime, glaring viciously at potential troublemakers, was part of the problem. If his online life had been the usual bums and boobs he might have told his unknown blackmailer to go to Hell, but the things he’d made or watched girls do, the fierce misogyny of it, even in cyberspace and between consenting adults, just wasn’t something he could bear to see exposed. Brian was a dominant, a sadist and unlike many who fitted those categories, above all, brutal and contemptuous towards women – all women. Unlike so many men addicted to cruelty, he reflected, at least he knew what he was and largely confined his activities to the web. That, of course, was the problem; human memories faded, but the web was forever!

All that evening Brian sat and puzzled. What could his pursuer really want? Surely no one in their right mind would go to all this trouble, risk prison, or the violent reaction Brian himself could dish out, just for a fancy dress party, so either that was a lie or it was the starter which would lead to something more traditional – the demands for money or favours. But a newly qualified teacher, though well above the social level Brian had come from, surely didn’t have enough money or power for either to be worth the risk. Besides, this person knew him. Whatever he was after it was personal. So who could he do something for, that, in their eyes, was worth the risks entailed – and what would that something be. Staring into the fire with an ever dropping whisky bottle beside him that night Brian found no answers.

Next morning the awaited parcel arrived early – and with it potential answers that filled Brian’s heart with icy fear.

“Good morning Brian”

“The Hell with good morning. Are these bloody parcels from you?”

“Probably. What’s in them?” The disembodied voice sounded amused and sure of itself, as if it had expected this reaction and welcomed it.

“You mean apart from the fucking dress?”

“Well if it’s a black, silk off the shoulder dress with very wide ballgown-type skirts and a corset type top then yes, it’s from me. Any other dresses mean you’re either a secret cross-dresser or someone else is planning to invite you to a fancy dress party. It’s possible I suppose; everyone likes a party.”

“Fucking cunt!”

“Not my role in this relationship Brian. Trust me, you will find that out.”

“What the fuck is going on?!”

“I would have thought it was very simple. I told you you were attending a fancy dress party with me – this is your costume, the dress, and all the other things with it, the petticoats, the boots, the makeup,the lingerie, the perfume, the depilation creams, the hair extensions – everything. “

“And what are these sodding things that look like, like – you know what they look like.”

“You mean the breast forms? State of the art Brian. Normally they’re used for women who’ve lost their breasts through accidents or illness. Trust me, once they’ve been attached with the proper adhesive it would take a very close examination to tell them from the real thing. I decided to make you a C cup by the way.”

“Why?”

“I like girls with big boobs.”

“No. Why go to all this trouble. Why me?”

“All this trouble is because I want us to win the fancy dress prize. If you aren’t convincing I will be very upset! As for why you, I knew you’d hate it and believe me I have motives for wanting to see you embarassed. You will find out why.”

“No I won’t. I’m not doing it.”

“So you’d sooner be out of work and blacklisted than spend one evening being embarassed? God, you’re gutless.”

Oddly enough that got to Brian. Gutless was the thing he’d always despised in others. He’d never admit to it in himself.

“Shit.”

“I suppose I can be. Certainly I will insist on an extra forfeit for your foul language and general demeanour.”

“Look, who’s going to be at this party.”

“Absolutely no one you know, bar me. I swear it.”

There was a long pause. Brian couldn’t , offhand, think of a worse way to spend an evening than dressed up like some sort of ballroom goth fantasy. On the other hand, if he didn’t he lost his job. And if he did? No one else would ever know. He got to meet his mystery tormentor. Then maybe he could do something – threats, bribes, violence, legal action. There were all sorts of possibilities. Without those possibilities he was stymied. His stalker could keep this up for years, send incriminating evidence from job to job, drive him back into the squalor and poverty he’d experienced in the Children’s Home – the poverty he’d struggled and sweated and beaten the odds to overcome, that he’d sworn he would never, never go back to.

“OK. OK, I’ll do it.”

“I knew you’d see reason. When it was in your own self-interest you always did. Now the forfeit. Look under the dress. What do you see?”

“It looks like – webcams??”

“Exactly. Webcams with a multi adaptor and extra-long leads. Enough to go into every room in your house. Set them up, then call me back. There’s a new number on a card in the same box the webcams and the dress came in; I’m about to throw this one away.”

Twenty minutes later Brian called the new number

“What now?”

“Tomorrow is Friday. I told you I wanted to win the fancy dress prize; we won’t manage that unless you’re absolutely convincing. From when you get home tomorrow I want you to spend the time before the party practicing dressing, speaking and acting like a girl. I’ll be using the webcams to make sure you don’t chicken out. Some more parcels with instructions will be with you tomorrow.”

“But- but“

The buzzing of the dial tone mocked Brian’s protests. His frantic attempts to call back earned him only the endless ringing of an ignored phone as he rang and rang fruitlessly, again and again.

It was a subdued Brian who returned home the next evening. He had successfully lured two of his colleagues down to the pub to delay this moment, but had been unable to persuade them to follow him down the road of a binge. A little older than him, both had families and children to return to and Brian’s brittle, slightly feverish manner had probably not helped either. Oddly, the three pints with chasers had. Slightly tipsy, Brian felt at least divorced enough from his normal, sober self to be able to make this leap in the dark.

All the same the prospect of it horrified him. Deep down, he knew, Brian thought of women as inferior. To be forced to dress as one was a painful humiliation.

A little later Brian was sitting in the midst of a pile of open boxes staring at a page of instructions and forcing his terror paralysed brain to work.

Instruction 1 was “For this weekend your name is ‘Belinda.’ “

Instruction 2 was “You will remove all hair from your body except for the head, eyebrows and a neat pubic patch.”

“OK” he said to himself. “Belinda. Just get through this weekend and it’s done. You can do anything for one weekend.The depilation cream first and then a shower to wash it off.”

The cream was probably the foulest thing he had ever smelt but when, after a couple of minutes standing nude in the bathroom and muttering under his breath, he washed it off “Belinda” had to admit it was effective. For the first time since puberty his arms, legs, hands, feet, belly and chest were smooth and hairless. Sadly, he turned up the shower and set about shaving his armpits and trimming his pubic hair to a neat triangle as per instructions. A few minutes later, clean and smoothed he stepped out of the shower to begin the humiliating task of smoothing moisturiser into his freshly denuded skin.

Once duly moisturised the reluctant Belinda checked the list and winced to see that item 3 was perfume. A quick glance at the webcam revealed that Belinda’s personal calvary was being electronically monitored. A moment later the reluctant crossdresser’s pale, smooth form was giving off a thick scent of fruit and flowers.

Great! I smell like a fruit salad in a walled garden! He thought.
Now what?
Instruction 4 was where he finally rebelled.

“This is ridiculous! There is no bloody way I’m putting these – these breast forms on. And if you’re listening, you creepy little bastard, you can stick that in your pipe and smoke it!”

An instant later, the phone rang.

“I don’t smoke, Belinda. You, on the other hand do whatever you’re told.”

“Dream on, you weirdo freak!”

“Fair enough then. I’ll just add some stills of you surrounded by girly artifacts, depilating yourself and spritzing with perfume to the package I’m about to send out.”

“You fuck- “

Brian’s mouth hung open. How could he have been so mind-bendingly stupid as to have missed it? By following his mysterous interlocutor’s instructions he had placed himself in a bind ten times worse than before.

“I, I...”

“Yees?”

“I, I, you ...”

“I think I can help you out here. The words you’re looking for are most probably ‘I’m sorry I was so rude to you Sir. I’m going to get dressed now and practice being a good girl for you. I’m so looking forward to our date tomorrow night’ “

“Date??!” Brian practically screamed “You’re a fairy?!”

“No dear. You’re supposed to be a girl. You really do have a memory like a sieve. Now, what do you say?”

“I –I’m sorry I was, was so rude to you. Sir.”

“And?”

“And I’m going to get dressed now and practice being – being a good girl.”

Brian shuddered as he said the horrible words. He was decided now. He would co-operate and do nothing, nothing to upset his tormentor, until he could find where the incriminating evidence was stashed. Then he would destroy it, beat him to within an inch of his life and take his chances on the consequences.

“And what else?”

I’m so looking forward to our date tomorrow.”

“Once more with feeling I think. And try to sound a little higher and breathier. It’s no use looking like Snow White if you’re going to sound like Barry White.”

“I – I’m so looking forward to our date tomorrow, Sir.”

And your name, girl ?”

“Belinda.”

And with that the voice was gone, leaving only a buzzing in Brian’s ears.

An hour later he stood in the hallway gazing mournfully into a full length mirror. A young girl stared back. She could have been anything between eighteen and twenty-five. Her white skin contrasted pleasingly with the silk dress and the full, red lips. Her breasts swelled gently, uplifted by the structure of the dress itself and her midnight hair hung in raven tresses. Silver bracelets and rings shone from her wrists and fingers.Wide skirts supported by multilayered petticoats flared from the womanly hips. The breast forms were totally convincing. The hair extensions were totally convincing. The hip and bottom padding were totally convincing. The full, red lips and the enormous, heavily made-up eyes were totally convincing. The dress suited him. The black, transparent fairy wings added a hint of playfulness to the potentially sombre nature of the colour scheme turning it from Ballroom Vampire to Goth Fairy. No one would have taken him for anything other than a girl on her way to a night out.

“Hello Belinda” he said sadly to the girl in the mirror. An instant later the phone rang again.

“You look lovely, Belinda. You really do live up to your name.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Belinda. It means ‘pretty’ or beautiful. From the French word ‘Belle’ “

“Oh!”

“Tut, tut. That was a compliment, young lady. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Sir” (s)he replied, trying to make her voice higher and more womanly.

“Better. Much better. Now, I think your earlier outburst deserves a forfeit and reading through your online cyber-sessions I think I’ve found rather a good one. You make a rather brutal, if impressively imaginative online dominant. You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into it. But there’s always room to improve by experience, so I thought you should try it from the woman’s point of view.”

“What?!”

“Oh, I’m sure you know what I mean. Create a profile – you’ll find a few photos of the new you in your inbox – go to the appropriate chatroom, introduce yourself and wait for the first gentleman to pick you up. Off you go. Chop-chop.”

The girl in the mirror looked pale with fright. Oddly it made her more, not less attractive. After an instant he realised why – that was just the look of shocked but helpless acquiescence he liked to see in a girl. Now, for the night, he was Belinda and she felt literally sick with horror, revulsion and fear!

He didn’t dare defy this new order. Things had already gone too far. If only he’d refused to co-operate at the start he might have lost his job but he could still have lived with himself. Having anyone who knew him see him like this however was worse than he could stand. Like Macbeth, the English teacher was in too deep to go back and so must continue, whatever the dangers, in the hope of reaching the other side. Brian took a deep breath and closed his eyes

There is only one way I can get through this he thought to himself. I have to think of it as acting, Stanislavskyan acting, becoming the part . Brian can’t go online and chat to a man. So I’ll be Belinda. Lose myself in Belinda and forget her forever on Monday morning!

Belinda opened her eyes and shakily smiled at her reflection. Then she gathered up her skirts and flounced into the computer room.

Online

What do you look like wench?

I’m about five foot five with C cup breasts and child-bearing hips

> Cracks whip<

That’s ‘Master’ to you, slut

Yes, Master, sorry Master

Belinda winced. It hadn’t taken long to get set up and even less time to get picked up once she was in. That was the easy bit. She had no doubt she was still being monitored so now she was utterly at the mercy of this man who had PMed her. If he was a man – there was nothing to stop his online persona being as much a construct as her own. She could be talking to a guffawing gang of high school boys with a borrowed credit card.

What are you wearing, slut

A dress Master, with long dark silken skirts and a tight corset-type top.

Prove it

Master?

Take a photo of yourself, now, holding up a piece of paper with “I am a silly little slut” written on it and post it to your profile. I’ll be waiting.
And the worst bit about this, Belinda reflected, as she reached for a marker pen, is that I look so totally convincing this isn’t even going to slow him down.

Sure enough a couple of minutes later he was back

Very good slut. Now kneel

This silly little slut is kneeling for you Master

Now crawl to my boots and kiss them

Oh God, here we go, she thought. Please let it be over quickly.

> Crawls across the floor and humbly kisses the toe of her Master’s boots<

> Cracks whip< You’ve left lipstick on my boots. Lick it off!

Yes Master >humbly licks her lipstick from Master’s boots<

Now dry them. With your hair!

> Obeys<

Kneel before me

Yes Master

> reaches over the pretty slut and partially unzips the back of her dress<

Take out your breasts, cup them and lift them up before me

> Cups her breasts and holds them up for her Master<

Rub them across my boots till the nipples stand up hard.

But they already are Master

> Cracks whip across her cleavage< Don’t argue slut, just obey

Ahhh! Yes Master. >Caresses Master’s boots with her soft full breasts<

Good. Now sit upright.

> Removes his thick, throbbing member from his trousers<

> Kiss it slut<

> Obediently kisses her Master’s cock<

> Inserts his cock between the pretty slut’s full breasts<

What are you?

A slut Master, your slut

Good girl. Now listen carefully. You’re going to massage my cock with your tits until I come all over you and then you’re going to paint your lips with my sperm, like a thick coat of whore’s lipgloss, understand?

Yes Master.

Are you grateful, bitch?

Yes Master, thank you

And then, thank God, her interlocutor’s computer must have crashed! He vanished, leaving a shattered Belinda crying with relief, tears pouring down her face, like they hadn’t done since the day she escaped the children’s home. It had been a truly terrible experience, made worse by the fact that somehow, despite the horrible feeling of wrongness, the scenario had turned her on – it was just the sort of thing she liked, but she had been trapped in the wrong role, and despite that, had felt the treacherous itchings of desire! She could see her reflection in the monitor screen, a pale, full lipped girl with mascara trails running down her cheeks. The tears made her more beautiful still – her own feminine ideal.

A little after that Belinda lay sadly in bed, make-up carefully removed but wearing a black, lacy nightdress that had arrived with the day’s supplementary parcels. In the corner a little green light atop the webcam showed her that her every move was being monitored. After a few minutes she rolled over to hide the fact that she was still crying.

Brian dreamed.

He dreamed he was in a night club. A woman in fetish gear was prancing and posing on the stage before him, gradually stripping until she was crawling on the stage dressed only in high-heeled boots, lingerie and a collar. Bids vied with each other – a charity slave auction, that was it. A man came on stage and clipped a leash to that collar before leading the smiling girl to the lucky bidder followed by wild applause from the audience, Brian included. Then he realised he was sitting on someone else’s lap! He looked down. He was tiny, dainty, his stockinged legs swinging in mid air like a little girl’s. His soft , delicate hands and forearms looked as if they might snap under the weight of the rings and bangles that adorned them . His tiny feet were strapped into huge black platforms. His long, coltish legs were clad in spiderweb stockings and emerged from a tight latex dress. The muscular, hairy male arm wrapped proprietorially around his waist was as thick as his thigh. As he struggled to take all this in the arm unwrapped itself and pushed him gently towards the stage.

“Go on Belinda” said an encouraging voice. “Your turn.”

Brian sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving in fear. For a moment he thought he was still in that club, as he saw his bosom heave under the lacy nightgown. Then he remembered where he was, who he was and that the breastforms were still firmly attached but still artificial! This was his first (and last) full day as Belinda. In less than twenty-four hours it would be all over and he could forget it had ever happened.
First though, he had to get through this day. And to do that he had to think Belinda.

“You are Belinda” she sternly told her reflection “You are a ‘she’, a ‘her’, you aren’t upset by wearing perfume, because you’re a girl. You don’t get upset by wearing dresses because they are natural for you. You are not a Brian being humiliated, you are a Belinda having a normal day. And when this is all done you will wipe it from your mind just as the make-up will come off your face.”

A shower woke her body from its torpor and a careful inspection revealed that she was still smooth and hairless – not that she had expected anything else; according to the bottle the depilation cream cleared hair right down to the roots. Carefully she moisturised, before preparing a minimal make-up – nothing too flashy, just lipstick and mascara – and spritzing with a floral perfume. Then, much though she loathed the prospect , it was time to get dressed.

The underwear was simple enough. A pair of black satin knickers and a matching bra. The worst thing about that was that she felt distinctly more comfortable in the bra, her artificial boobs being made that much more controllable by it. The knickers just felt downright sensual – no wonder women wore this sort of thing for a night out!

Whoever her mystery blackmailer was he had thought ahead. According to the written instructions with the parcels she was not to wear her party dress during the day for fear of getting it crumpled or dirty. Instead she had a choice of a very short, multi-layered taffetta skirt with black and white stripey tights (For a dreadful instant she had a flashback to the dream of the night before) and a matching black top with a rock-chick studded belt, or a light, flirty sundress, patterned with flowers.

Either one would have drawn eyes anywhere but fortunately there was no way Belinda intended to step out of doors before the blackmailer came to pick her up for the party that evening. After a few minutes deliberation she decided the skirt and top were marginally less degrading – the top was much less low cut than the dress. A pair of black Mary-Jane platform shoes with a two inch heel completed the ensemble and Belinda was dressed.

“OK. Still alive. Not sick. Not hurting. Not out in public. Could be much worse. I can do this. I really can do this.”

All in all it seemed very unfair that the doorbell should go just as Belinda had pulled herself together.

“Oh God! What do I do?!” she cried, wide-eyed with shock and fear.

The bell rang again insistently. Sneaking a peek through the window she could see a motorcycle courier impatiently standing by the door.

OK, not someone I know. But the minute I open my mouth – think, dammit, think!

The disguised teacher rushed downstairs, clutching at the bannister for support as she almost stumbled in the unaccustomed shoes and flung the door open

“Morning Miss. How are you this morning?”

“Laryngitis” Belinda mouthed, opening her mouth wide and pointing to her tonsils.

“Oh! Sorry to hear that, Miss. Package for you, I need you to sign here.”

Remember she reminded herself sign it ‘Belinda Jenkins’ Scribbling away speedily Belinda couldn’t help but notice his gaze fixed penetratingly upon her, sweeping her from head to foot. For a moment she was panicked that her secret had been detected – and then she realised; he wasn’t seeing through her, he was checking her out! Red-faced, Belinda thrust the pen back at him, grabbed the package and fled inside.
The package itself was a large box wrapped in a huge ribbon tied in a bow. Inside it was a large purse/handbag designed to look like a ladybird, wings slightly spread and black lace trimming all around. Underneath it was a note which read

“My dearest Belinda
You will need this for your lipstick, compact, keys, handkerchief etc. I’ll admit I could have had it delivered yesterday but I thought it would be nice for you to answer the door all dolled up. If this seems mean to you, just think, I could have told you to go shopping for it. See you soon!
Love from ? Xxx “

Belinda spent the next few hours hiding in the bedroom with the covers over her head!

Eventually, the inexorable passing of time drove her to start making plans – just a few more hours and this would all be over. In the meantime, the most important thing of all was not to get spotted. With that in mind Belinda dug out yet another of the items she’d been sent. A little flat monitor screen with two dials it recorded and played back your voice while a screen display enabled you to see where you were on the “average male/average female” register and pitch. With enough practice, the accompanying booklet swore, you could change your voice so that no one would ever know you’d been a man. Belinda shuddered at the thought, but not as much as she shuddered at the thought of being spotted, or accidentally introducing herself with the wrong name and so persevered away, introducing herself as Belinda, making small talk to thin air and generally carrying on like a soft-voiced sufferer of split personality disorder until her voice started to get hoarse and she decided to knock off for fear of doing more harm than good.

After a light meal – the dress was tight and what the consequences would be if she couldn’t get into it Belinda didn’t like to think – she went for a long, hot bath. Again she checked for stray body hair but there was not so much as a prick of stubble to mar her feminine smoothness. Again she moisturised her already soft and supple skin.

How can I be like this? It should take more than this to change me? Did I always look girlish? Is that what gave the psycho behind this his idea?

An hour later, things were worse. Standing in front of the mirror, wide, frightened eyes looking out from a nervous face, purse clutched before her in both hands, firmly rounded tops of artificial breasts showing, long skirts sweeping down to the floor from a nipped in waist, she was a vision of feminine loveliness

No! No! No! I’m a guy! I can’t be “Belinda”. I don’t want to be, not even for an evening! And then a worse thought struck home Oh God! Did he mean an evening, or did he mean a night? Is he going to try to – to do – something – to me? Oh please Lord, no! I don’t care what I look like, I’m not a girl!

For the next half hour or so Belinda paced back and forth, in terror and agitation, diaphanous fairy wings wavering gently in the wind of her own passage. Some of her hard-won toughness seemed to have evaporated with her male appearance; the one-time bully, the terror of the children’s home was now shrinking and afraid, trapped by incriminating pictures and trammelled in clinging petticoats. Mercifully her suspense was cut short by the doorbell ringing. At last her blackmailer had arrived. At last she might find out who and what was behind this! Gathering up her skirts Belinda ran to the front door and flung it open.

“You! Stinky Shitpot”

“Indeed! Me! And yes, that is what you used to call me.”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, it just slipped out.”

“Yes, I expect it just slipped out in the children’s home as well. And at school. Every single day. For years.”

On the doorstep stood a man of Belinda’s age, about six or seven inches taller, lean but heavily muscled. If it hadn’t been for the face she would never have recognised him. He had shot up and filled out dramatically but those hawk nosed features and unruly curls hadn’t changed a bit. Stefan Shilpott was the only other one from the children’s home to make it to University (In fact the only other one that had got any real qualifications at all) and Brian had bullied him through most of their teens – until he became too preoccupied with working for a future to have time for anything else at all.

“OK, now I know what this is all about. And I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

Oddly enough, she was. Working as a teacher Brian had seen bullying from the outside and come to be appalled by it. That was partly what had caused him to channel the cruelty in his own nature in other directions. It was part of what made him a good teacher as well as a clever one

“Sorry? Sorry you did it, or sorry I took revenge?”

“Both!” she admitted, looking ruefully down at herself

“Honesty!” Stefan laughed “I like that. But then there were always things I liked about you. You were honest, you were clever, you were a bully who wasn’t a coward – which of course made all the standard anti-bully advice about how to stand up to you completely useless. No, the thing I never got was why you hated me so much. We were the only ones in that place who ever tried to learn anything, the only ones with any kind of achievable ambition; I never understood why you picked on me so much, when we had so much in common.”

“I think that was why.” Belinda admitted shamefacedly “You were a victim of those thugs and halfwits long before I joined in; by picking on you I was saying I wasn’t like you.”

“An explanation? Well, that’s more than I was expecting. I’m sure we’ll find lots to catch up on, but shall we do it in the limo?”

“OK. OK Stefan – wait , what are you –oh!”

Stefan was deftly fastening a floral arrangement around her right wrist

“A corsage?! Please tell me we’re not going to a prom? We’re too old!”

“No. I confess, I just thought it would look rather pretty. We really are going to a fancy dress party. Shall we?” And he thrust out an arm for her to take (handy with the heels) and escorted the humiliated teacher down the driveway to an enormous, chauffeur driven white limo. At the car he opened the door for her and waited patiently as she sat sideways on the end of the seat and slowly manoeuvred her voluminous dress inside, perching on the seat edge to avoid crushing her wings.

“I admit I owe you one. “ Belinda said as they drove off “I must have hurt you a lot. So I promise I will try to play along tonight with a good grace. Just please remember, I was young and stupid then. I’m not the same person now; you deserve a little payback, but I don’t deserve to have my life ruined for good.”

“Young and stupid?” Stefan raised an eyebrow

“All right, young and mean. I really am sorry.”

“Then I promise you, make a success of tonight and I won’t be sending incriminating materials or photographs to anyone. In fact I’ll destroy them, so that no one will ever be able to use them against you.”

“Thank you. How did you manage to do what you did anyway? I mean, cyber-stalking is one thing, but remotely wiping emails you’d already sent? I didn’t know anyone could do that.”

“Nobody else can. This is why I’m a multi-millionaire now. I was still studying IT at University when I invented software that can track, delete or alter anything online, anything in any internet-capable system, completely untraceably.”

“Wow! Sounds like something a supervillain would do!”

“Crime was tempting!” Stefan smiled “But I decided to licience it to government bodies instead. The payments from just one intelligence body bought me a stately home with three hundred acres – perhaps you know it? Queen’s Lake Castle.”

“Know it? You know I know it! They took us there on a school trip, remember, when we were ten or eleven? I loved it! It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen! I wanted to stay forever. That was the day I realised that if I didn’t change I’d always live in a dump and I’d probably never even see anything that beautiful again! I wanted to visit it last year but the new owner has closed it to the pub- oh, of course, that’s you! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was criticising!”

“That’s alright. I’m thinking of opening it for tours in the summer again, but if this evening goes well you can come and stay, for as long as you like.”

“I can? Oh Stefan!”

Belinda realised she was bouncing on the edge of her seat, hands clasped before her and grinning ecstatically like a teenage girl at a festival.

“I don’t deserve you being nice though. “

“Look at yourself. I think by the end of the night my revenge will be complete. It’s not everyone who can make the school bully go on a date with them – as a girl”

Belinda blushed a pleasing rosy hue – that flared crimson as she felt her chin being gently tilted upwards.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Softly moving lips fixed on hers and a thrill of shame tinged with fear ran through Belinda’s body

God! No! Stop! I’m not a girl! Get off! But if I resist he has photos- But I can’t do this – But I was a bastard to him – Oh God! He’s actually good at this! NO! What, did you think revenge would be easy on you? But this is sick! But I can’t do anything to stop it! So think ‘Belinda’! Think ‘date’

Belinda felt her back hit the car seat hard as he broke contact and she wrenched frantically away.

“Please don’t do that again! I’m not a fairy!”

One eyebrow raised.
“Yes, you look completely masculine and non-supernatural. The wings are very macho and as for the dress...”
“Arrgh! OK, I get your point. But I’m not gay!”

“Like I said, I want you to be a girl tonight, not gay.”

“But saying it doesn’t make me one!”

“No, no that’s true. But you can act, can’t you.”

Belinda sighed heavily and thought of the consequences. Oddly she still felt bad about their earlier years too. Stefan seemed ..nice? Always had been in fact. A little weird, definitely, maybe more than a little, but then years of daily bullying by the likes of Brian probably hadn’t helped. If some more Stanislavkian acting would get Brian off the hook and give Stefan a little cartharsis..

“OK. I can act.”

“Good girl. Besides, you don’t realise yet how appropriate this is. You once said the only way I could get a girl to go to a party with me was to blackmail her. That was what gave me this idea. As for fairies, do you remember what you used to call me? Besides Stinky Shitpot?”

“Oh God! Fairy!”

“Got it in one.”

“That’s why! That’s why I’m dressed up as some sort of goth fairy princess! That’s what this is about!”

“I always said you were clever.”

“I hardly ever called you a fairy though. That was the others.”

“Yes, but you started it. I was reading a book of folk and fairy tales. In my room, just before tea time. You burst in, grabbed it off me and ran through the dining room, waving it around and shouting “Stinky’s learning how to be a fairy”. We were twelve. “

“Oh God! I’m so sorry! I was such a bastard back then!”

“Looking at you now, I prefer to think of you as being a cow back then.”

“Meanie! OK, I was a cow. Sexist meanie!“

Belinda stuck her tongue out. If I have to be a girl I can at least get the advantages

“But I don’t understand why someone as smart as you was reading fairy tales in the first place.”

“I read old legends as an escape. Fairies fascinated me because the true fairy stories, the ones from the days people believed in them, had a real tinge of danger. To dance with the fairies, to taste their food or drink was to risk being transformed, or to get back home and find that everything had changed beyond recognition – or you had – or that years or even centuries had passed. I would have risked it to get out of the children’s home though, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. I would have risked anything to get out of that place.”

“Appropriate then. You haven’t asked about my costume.”
“The cloak, the open shirt and the pointy ears? I thought you were Oberon or someone like that.”

“Yes, but you didn’t ask why. Now look.” Stefan pointed through the window and Belinda realised that the car was slowing down, was, in fact, manoeuvring to pass through a field gate into a green meadow. In the centre of the meadow was an enormous marquee and above the entrance a huge banner read ‘West Country LARPs and Re-enactors Midsummer Night’s Faery Ball. Elves Welcome. No Gnomes!’

“We’re going to take that risk.” Stefan said, a mischevious smile playing about his lips “We’re going to dance with the faeries!”

He wrapped his arms around her, arms much stronger than when they had been younger, too strong, Belinda suspected, for her to resist, trammelled as she was, and bestowed another ardent kiss upon her

Thank goodness for kiss-proof lipstick. Wait, did I just think that?! Oh God! Well it’s only acting: I’m not going to spoil his night in front of his friends. I daren’t! But if he wants more than a kiss I’m definitely not acting that sort of girl, pictures or no pictures!

And before Belinda had time for any more thoughts she was being helped chivalrously out of the limo and, hand in hand with her ‘date’ into the marquee. Inside was a bar along one wall serving meads, ales, wines and associated appropriately medieval drinks. Along another was a platform, with a band playing Olde English – and Olde Scottish, Olde Irish and for all Belinda could tell Olde Welshe – music. Everyone, but everyone, had obviously gone well out of their way to get dressed up. Belinda had feared that she would stand out but if anything she was underdressed, as Goth faeries, medieval wenches, faery queens, improbably over-armed warriors, pointy-eared and scantily clad elves swirled around in a happy buzz of conversation, shouting, impromptu singing and shrieks of recognition and congratulation, unashamed fantasy nerds and looking good!

Unfortunately, her hopes of taking a low profile were not to be fulfilled.

“Stefan! So this is the mystery date!” beamed a buxom young woman, whose strawberry blonde hair contrasted pleasingly with her green medieval dress. Makes me wish I was here as me. Oh well, plenty more fish when I can get back to being a hook.

“Stefan told us you’d be a knockout but that was all he would say. He’s been so close-mouthed. It’s totally unlike him.”

“Yes, I was laying bets that you’d really be from an escort agency, but I can see I was wrong.” added a taller blonde woman with a sword and pointy elf ears, from the group that had swiftly gathered around them

Meow! So much for women being subtle. And she obviously fancies you like mad, Stefan, haven’t you even noticed??

“How do you know she’s not an escort?” said a tall guy at the back

And I think he fancies ME! Eek! Help! Stefan, don’t you dare leave me alone with him! Without noticing, Belinda moved a little closer to Stefan’s side

“Escorts won’t go to costume parties without dressing either snooty or slutty. Trust me, I did some escort work at Uni; I know.”

OK, maybe she’s not as mean as I thought. But she still likes Stefan.

“So tell us everything! What’s your name? What do you do?How did you meet Stefan? Tell us your life story, enquiring minds want to know?” chipped in yet a third girl.

“In that case, I’m going to get us all some drinks while you do the interrogation. I know what you’re like when you get going, Toni”

“Suits me. Can I have a dark mead?”

“No problem. Belinda, what would you like?”

Argh! You can’t leave me to be interrogated! I don’t know what to say! On the other hand I definitely need a stiff drink. Nothing too volumey either, I don’t want to spend too much time peeing while I’m wearing these these clothes, especially as there’s bound to be a queue for the ladies. Argghhh! I’m going to have to go to the ladies! And sit down! And is ‘volumey’ even a word?

“Could I have a rum and coke please?” To Belinda’s relief her voice came out as a sultry contralto rather than the bass croak she had feared.

“Double rum and coke, coming up!”

“Good!” said the strawberry blonde as Stefan bustled away “You can give us all the good gossip while he’s away. I’m Tina, by the way.”

“Belinda”

“Oh, that’s a lovely name.” interjected a delicate, brunette girl who looked to be twenty at most “I wish I had been named something like that.”
How I wish I wasn’t! thought Belinda, but only said

“Why, what are you called?”

“Mildred! But call me Arwen. That’s my LARPing name.”

Belinda assured her that Mildred was a lovely name too but couldn’t help seeing her point!

“Off topic.” said the elf “How did you and Stefan meet?”

“Er, well, actually we were at school together. I hadn’t seen or heard from him for years so when we happened to run into each other and he asked me here tonight I really couldn’t say no.” And that is absolutely factually true she reflected.

“So this is your first date? Damn, we were hoping you’d be able to tell us what he’s like in bed. We’ve known him three, four years and you’re the first time he’s ever brought a girl to meet us.”

Belinda was too taken aback to say anything! She could feel her face flushing crimson as she stammered.

“Tina!” intervened the elf-warrior girl “You can’t ask questions like that to someone you’ve only just met! What are you like? Ignore that question, Belinda. Just tell us if you think you like him. Is there going to be another date?”

“I, I – I do like him but – I don’t think, I mean – I just don’t know yet.”

That was close – I almost admitted that I wouldn’t go on another date for any money to a group of his closest friends. And while I know I’ve got a good reason I don’t think they – or he – would see it that way.

“So what do you do for a living? Are you in IT, like Stefan?”

“No, Belinda’s a hairdresser.” Said Stefan, as he returned just in time to hear. “Here’s everybody’s drinks.”

A HAIRDRESSER? First I’m a girl, then I’m arm candy dolled up to adorn his night out, now I’m a HAIRDRESSER? I know he’s got a lot of humiliation to pay back but this is just too much!

To Belinda’s surprise however the three girls erupted with enthusiam

“No wonder your hair is so beautiful.” cried Mildred/Arwen. “Do you think you could do mine someday?”

“And mine!” added the elf girl.

“I don’t know.” replied Belinda. “It’s not that I wouldn’t but I’m only just starting. I wouldn’t like to risk making a mess of things.”

“Besides, we should go and get seats before you all start booking my girlfriend.” Stefan grinned “My need for her evenings may be greater than yours.”

Ei yei yei. I hope he’s joking; if not he has a disappointment coming.

Amidst good natured joshing of Stefan the little group departed for a table, Belinda nervously gulping down half her rum and coke before they arrived. Stefan was unfailingly courteous, as always,in a faintly chauvinist way, holding Belinda’s chair for her, a gesture that brought “aww”s from some of the girls and a “Why can’t you be like that?” look from one of them at the young man who had admired Belinda when she first arrived. Unfortunately, the courtesy seemed to come hand in hand with a distinctly proprietorial manner, one arm lightly laid across the small of Belinda’s back and fingers teasingly stroking her side.

This is perfectly normal. You’re on a date. You’re the girl. Play along. It’s only for the one night.

That would have been easier if Stefan hadn’t, in fact, been rather good at the stroking. Once Belinda forced herself to stop freaking out it was soothing one minute, stimulating the next. When his hand gently worked its way up to the back of her neck she felt a shiver run through her and a little “ooh” sound escaped her lips.

Belinda blushed again as the other girls other girls?? Did I just think that? gave her looks that appeared to read “Yes, we know exactly what you mean, but keep it quiet – men are quite conceited enough without public encouragement.”

After that she moved in closer to Stefan, an unconscious search for protection, and kept quieter, wrapping herself in the persona of the shy new girl. All the same Belinda was, to her own astonishment, having a good time. Stefan was nice, and considerate, offering her his jacket when she shivered in the off the shoulder dress. His friends were nice and keen to make her feel welcome, without being too intrusive when she evaded questions about herself. Even the guy who obviously fancied her was being decent about it, clearly restraining himself from moving in on his friend’s turf. Brian had no real close friends and was surprised how much the warmth in the atmosphere affected him. The LARPing sounded fun too – maybe not the most sophisticated game in the world, a little geeky but then whoever had fun while they were busy examining themselves to see if they still looked ‘cool’? If only I hadn’t been such a git, maybe Stefan and I would have been friends and maybe I’d be here as me. As it is I wouldn’t dare join –they’d recognise me at once.

Then the crackle of a microphone rang through the air and a cheerful voice cried from the stage

“Stand up please ladies and gentlemen. The dancing is about to begin.”

“Whoo-Hoo! Come on gorgeous, let’s dance.”

Belinda looked at him aghast as the others made their way to the dance floor.

“I can’t! I never could dance at the best of times. I don’t know the steps! And I’m wearing heels!”

“Yes, but they’re not very high ones or pointy ones . I made sure you’d be OK for this. You don’t need to know any steps, the caller does it all for you. It’s a ceilidh band, remember?”

“What if I get it wrong?!”

“You’ll be in good company! Everyone does at some point – nobody cares.”

“I’ll look stupid!”

“You look wonderful. Come on, my lovely, you can do it.”

Helplessly Belinda let herself be swept on to the dance floor

“Ladies to the left, gentlemen to the right and face your partner”
cried the caller “Into the middle and swing each other round.”

For a second Belinda nearly went the wrong way, but in the swirling eddies of people confusing the caller’s left with their left it went unnoticed. An hour later, breathless, flushed and laughing Belinda had made a new discovery. She loved dancing! Eventually she had to let a grinning Stefan escort her off the dance floor to get another drink while she clutched at the stitch in her side.

“Oh my, that was so much fun! And I’m so out of breath! I don’t know how people can do this all night.”

“Glad you came?”

The question sobered her a little.

“Yes. Yes, I’m glad I came. “

“So it’s not too bad being my girlfriend?” He smiled and his fingers gently trailed down her bare arm

“I am not your girlfriend. One date doth not a girlfriend make. And I feel I’ve been punished quite enough. But it wasn’t awful. I guess it’s like one of those Third World countries. It’s fun to visit but you’d hate to live there.”

Stefan’s face fell, just a little.

“Stefan,” she said gently “You’d make someone a terrific boyfriend. You’re kind, considerate, you come up with really good ideas for dates. Find a real girl. Half the ones here tonight would jump at you. You could be really happy. I don’t know why you’re not doing that now.”

“I do. I have my reasons. But in the meantime you’re still my date. Listen, they’re calling for a slow dance.”

“I ca- I keep saying that don’t I? OK, let’s go.”

Belinda felt very different from the brash angry young man who had opened that email just a few days before as Stefan led her on to the dance floor and enfolded her gently in his arms. With a sigh she laid her head against him and began the slow dance shuffle.

Well how could I not feel different? Here I am, satin knickers, silk dress, the feel of make up on my face, long hair tickling my face and neck, balancing on high heels, head resting on my date’s shoulder just like any other girl. This is humiliating. I’m Goth Barbie and Stefan is the one who dressed me up. But the longer I stay like this, the more vulnerable I feel. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to upset Stefan. Now I’m vulnerable, really, completely at someone else’s mercy, I can empathise. I don’t want to hurt anyone any more. Or maybe I’m afraid and covering it up. Or maybe mmffflllarmfl!

He had done it again! Right there on the dance floor in front of everybody as Belinda had glanced up to look at his face Stefan had pounced on her, like a hawk on a rabbit! Before she knew it, one hand was firmly on the back of her neck, the other splayed across her bottom and his lips and tongue fiercely claiming her!

“Don’t!” she whispered.

“Still on your punishment time, remember?” he whispered back

Oh God! I daren’t humiliate him in front of all his friends – if just one photo of me at this party got out I’d be ruined forever! Stupid! I’m so stupid! I almost let myself forget this started as revenge and he has a LOT to be revenged for.
Helplessly Belinda allowed herself to be kissed, while her inner Brian cringed with horror.

“Guess what comes next?” whispered Stefan in her ear as he finally broke contact.

“Don’t know. What?”

“The judging of the fancy dress contest.”

“No! I know what you’re thinking – please don’t.”

“You think that I’m thinking that you’d definitely win if they knew you had a little secret. Well, you would...”

“Please Stefan! I know I did bad things to you in the past but please don’t do this! “

“So let me get this straight.” murmured Stefan, and the grin across his face was a sight to behold.
“ Here and now, you’d sooner be regarded as a girl, as my girl, than have the world see you as a boy in a dress?”

“Yes.”

“Then your wish is granted. But I’m afraid you’ll have to do some girl things.”

“Wha – mmfllarllmf!”

With a few other couples they stayed on the dance floor throughout the prize announcements, apparently too busy necking to pay attention to the world around them. And then, thank God, the dance was over and the party with it. They bade goodbye to the others, Belinda trying not to wince as cheerful, sly remarks were made about their dance floor trip to first base, while Stefan grinned all over his face and then she was whisked back to the limo and away into the warm summer night.
“Come here, petal”

“Stefan no, I mmmmfll – Stefan, wait. I’m trying to talk to you!“

Belinda tried hard to fix Stefan with a stern look, a task made much harder by the fact that his trousers said his brain wasn’t doing the thinking and his face was smeared with her lipstick.

“Stefan, seriously! I’m not a girl! Do NOT say –“

“Nobody’s Perfect!” they chorused in perfect unison

“Damn it, you said it! It doesn’t work Stefan. You wanted to punish me? You succeeded. Not only have I been totally humiliated, not only do I feel completely ashamed of how I treated you, but I realise my life could have been a lot better if I hadn’t been such a- a- a”

“Cow?”

“No! That’s what I’m trying to explain! You obviously want a girlfriend! Or maybe a boyfriend who crossdresses, I don’t know! But I can’t be either Stefan. My name’s Brian. Not Belinda. Brian.”

Stefan sighed deeply.

You have a point. I want a girl. And much as you look the part – well. But you have to admit, it’s been an interesting evening.”

“It has. It was – I don’t know. Better and worse than I expected.”

“And you don’t mind that I humiliated you.”

It was Brian’s turn to sigh

“I earned it. Does it stop here though? No photos being sent out?”

“Not one, I swear it. No one will ever know there was any connection between Brian and Belinda.”

“Thank you. You’re a good person, Stefan. I hope we meet again.”

“I try. Usually. Look, we’re here. Give me a call tomorrow. If we’re still here after dancing with the faeries.”

“Will do.”

Gathering up his skirts Brian trudged down the dusky path, past the smells of night-blooming jasmine and the sound of crickets, pulled his keys from the ladybird purse and turned to wave one last time, before vanishing indoors. Once inside he lost no time in unplugging the webcams, stripping off and packing every feminine item away in a black bin bag before scrubbing every ounce of makeup and perfume from his face and body. By the time he got to bed Brian was feeling much more his old self. OK, Stefan was an OK guy in some ways, definitely better than he’d thought, but he was still freaky and probably a fairy in the perjorative sense, despite what he’d said about wanting a girl. And Brian had just been afraid of exposure, he definitely hadn’t enjoyed the evening, no sir. Maybe he’d call tomorrow – after all, there couldn’t be any harm in having a friend who was a multi-millionaire – maybe not. Moments later Brian was deep in a mercifully dreamless sleep.

Brian awoke the next morning a little drowsy, but with a feeling that something was not quite right. As he sleepily stretched his way around the bed, something seemed to be getting in the way.

Then he sat bolt upright. He was wearing a nightgown! It wasn’t the lacy number of the previous night but a kind of oversized T-shirt. On the front was a stylised Teddy Bear clutching a heart wrapped in a ribbon. Underneath it were the words “Unwrap Me, I’m Yours”. Brian let out a bellow of baffled rage – then stopped in horror. It hadn’t been a bellow, it had been a shriek.

“What the Hell was tha – NO!” His voice came out a breathy, melodious soprano. The breast forms were still hanging from his chest, but that was impossible. He’d thankfully removed them with solvent the night before and flung them in a bag. He’d never been so glad to remove anything in his life. As he grabbed them he felt sensation ripple through him. Without wasting any more time he literally leapt out of bed, ripping off the sleep shirt to examine himself in front of a full length mirror that hadn’t been in his bedroom the night before.

Long raven black hair hung shining down to the middle of his back. A quick tug showed that it was real, not hair extensions.The muscle was gone from his arms and softly rounded shoulders making them narrower and slimmer. His ears were pierced, his brows were a delicate arch, lips full and pouty, face smoothly hairless. Full breasts stood firm and proud above a pinched waist and a soft white belly which flared out to what could only be called child-bearing hips. A dark, neat patch of pubic hair stood in a little triangle above – nothing. She was Belinda! And this time it was real! A finger crept down the white belly almost involuntarily – and slipped inside her! There was no mistake.

Belinda’s scream rang loud in her own ears. The world darkened and she grabbed the bedpost to steady herself. Then she gave a startled squeal. The bed was different! Brian’s utilitarian single had been changed to a double brass bed with gleaming railings and a cuddly toy sitting beside the pillows! Sitting down heavily she scanned the room for other changes.

The walls were whitewashed with a hint of blue, making the room seem so much lighter and more airy that she could hardly believe she hadn’t spotted it instantly. On one wall hung an enormous fantasy art poster of some kind of faery or Goddess emerging from a purple sea, surrounded by leaping dolphins. The wardrobe was twice the size it had been the night before and three large drawers were built into it. A dressing table sat by the window, scrunchies and hairbands hanging from the mirror. On top of the dressing table sat a silver jewellery box, open, messy and overflowing. On the far wall was a pinboard with a montage of photos.

Examining them closely, Belinda could see dozens of photos of herself – as herself - in lots of different places and poses. There she was, surrounded by the people from last night, wearing some kind of LARP wench costume. There she was sitting on Stefan’s lap at a party. There she was laughing and squealing as she was splashed with water by someone off screen. Sitting on the grass at a picnic, wearing a short skirt, her legs carefully tucked under her to avoid flashing her knickers. Serving plates of food to friends at a barbecue. Lying with her head in Stefan’s lap as he fed her strawberries by hand. Picking her way across the beach in a bikini top and wraparound skirt. Worst of all was the photo that took centre place. In it she was wearing a long ethnic skirt – and nothing else. Hands over her nipples, she was half turned away as if to conceal her nudity, but her face directed a come-hither smile in the direction of the photographer.

“Oh my God! Stefan, what have you done? How have you done what you’ve done? I was a man last night! This is not possible!“

No, it can’t be Stefan’s fault. He might know everything there is to know about IT but no one could do this in a night. But how then? Just because I dressed as a girl and, OK, was kissed and held in a man’s arms like a girl which was totally euww, that can’t lead to this. If it did half the rugby clubs in the land would have to disband once at a year after Halloween.

“All the same, I have to speak to Stefan! He obviously knows the new me or he wouldn’t be in the photos – oh!”
Belinda’s hands flew to her face in shock as realisation struck. She - and God help her she really did seem to be a she – might remember the party as having taken place the night before – but everything else gave that the lie, from her room, to the photos and above all, to this body!
Somewhere Belinda- that- was- Brian had lost not only his/her maleness but time! Unless she had literally gone mad months or years must have passed since last night’s dance.
Still naked, Belinda ran to the front doormat to find the morning paper, noting in appalled horror as she did so that her boobs literally bounced around when she ran. The new Belinda wasn’t a Playboy bunny but she was substantial enough to be called buxom. Obviously, until she could get this reversed she would be wearing a bra, not because someone like Stefan told her to, but because she now needed to, and she shuddered at the thought. Worse, the shudder itself caused her breasts to wobble just a little more.
The paper gave the date as June 24th – the exact date it should have been. Belinda stared at it in bafflement for a few minutes before she realised. The date was right – the day and the year were not. It was exactly a year and a day since a trapped and humiliated Brian Jenkins had been whisked away to dance with the faeries and he was late for work.
Belinda staggered a little, putting out one hand to steady herself against the wall. The little squeak she emitted almost caused her to fall. The one-time Brian Jenkins sounded utterly female, a little girlish even by the standards of most girls.
I’ve got to call Stefan. Whatever’s going on he obviously still knows me and as far as I know he’s the only person who knows Brian and the – this – this GIRL that I look like now. Please God let him still have the same phone number.
Belinda was already heading for the phone when she realised two things: the tree outside the front widow had been pruned so that passing drivers might be able to see in and she was completely naked. Before anything else she had to get dressed.
The newly minted girl could not restrain a sigh as she stared at the contents of the bedroom wardrobe. As she had feared, there were no trousers at all, not even women’s trousers. There was nothing that could be mistaken for a male garment. The most closest thing to man’s clothing that she owned was a pair of denim cutoffs and a brief, optimistic attempt to wear those had shown that they unmistakably screamed “hot date” rather than saying “guy”. Behind her, on the bed lay a disarrayed underwear drawer which she had rifled through like a demented squirrel, only to find, like the unsuccessful squirrel, nothing that even vaguely hinted at nuts!
Did I buy these? Anything that isn’t silk, satin or lace seems to be cotton covered in tiny hearts. It’s like I lost my taste along with my testicles! And how many corsets does one person need?
Eventually she’d been forced to choose a matching black satin bra and knickers as one of the few things that didn’t have either lace or floral patterns. Almost every piece of underwear she owned seemed to be either black, girly pink or slut red. Nevertheless, her breasts Oh God help me, she thought I have breasts! needed support and Belinda felt quite vulnerable enough without going commando.
All of the underwear seemed like the sort a young woman would select if she was expecting someone else to see it, a thought that Belinda was determined not to pause to consider even for a second. Turning from a somewhat aggressively masculine young man into what looked like, so far as she could judge, an anatomically correct girl, either overnight or by having lost a year was quite enough potential insanity for one morning.
Eventually she selected a white cotton top and a skirt that seemed long enough to limit ogling and short enough to enable her to walk properly. Footwear was more difficult. Everything Belinda owned had a heel except for a worn pair of ballet pumps which fell off with every step.
“Did I really buy all of these? I didn’t save one pair of solid boots or sensible shoes? That’s just madness. Oh, what am I saying! The whole thing is madness! I’m not a girl!! Why would I buy any of these?! What’s happened to me?! Oh please God, let me just be delusional and none of this be happening!” Finally selecting a pair of rope-soled wedges with a heel of maybe an inch and a half the former Brian fled Belinda’s reflection in the bedroom’s multiple mirrors and retreated to the bathroom.
“OK, quick shower, then get dressed and call.” Easier said than done as Belinda realised that her lustrous mane, unlike her previous male cropped style couldn’t just be stuck under a showerhead and forgotten about. Eventually she ended up packing it all into a shower cap rather than take the time with conditioner and hairdryers that it wouldotherwise require. She was showered, moisturised and perfumed before she realised she had moisturised and perfumed. Automatically! Without even thinking about it. Was this habit or madness or brainwashing. Looking in the mirror she realised she felt naked without make-up.
Make-up it is then. I need all the confidence I can get and it’s not like anyone is going to spot that I’m a man. Let’s face it, right now, I’m not. So, war paint, get dressed up, in these wretched floppy girly clothes and call Stefan!
“Belinda?”
“Well it certainly bloody looks that way! What’s happened to me?? And DON’T pretend you don’t know: I’ve seen the photos, you must know how this happened!”
“Good morning darling, yes I’m well, how are you?”
“STEFAN! I woke up this morning and I’m a bloody GIRL! I am NOT well at all!”
“You woke up yesterday and you were a girl too. And the day before that, and the day before that and a lot of days before that. I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“Stefan, Stefan please help me. The last thing I remember is going to the LARP Midsummer Ball with you – “
“Eh? That’s Saturday, petal.”
“Not this year’s, last year’s ball. A year and a day ago.”
“A year and a – well, that’s a very Celtic fairy period of time. And that’s truly the last thing you remember?”
“Really and truly.”
“Well I did say that dancing with the fairies could have these effects.”
“Stefan! You’re laughing; I can hear it. If you don’t tell me everything about the last year I’m going to scream! This is your last warning.”
“Everything? Well, we had a great summer, hardly a drop of rain and “
“AAAAHHH! Stop that!”
“Did you just stamp your foot?”
“Yes!”
OK, OK, that means you’re serious. Come on over and I’ll explain everything.”
“Over to ?”
“My place. Queen’s Lake Castle.”
Oh my God. That really is your place?”
“I told you so, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” she admitted “but I thought you might be trying to impress me.”
“I was, but it’s still true. See you in half an hour”
And with that he hung up.
“I wish he wouldn’t do that!” Belinda complained to the buzzing phone before rushing to find her car keys.
The keys turned out to be in a handbag on the kitchen table together with a lipstick, compact, mascara, nailfile, hairbrush, floral deodorant and a purse, which contained a few pounds and a debit card in the name of Miss Belinda Jenkins. A rose quartz crystal dangled from the keyring.
Outside the house another shock awaited her. Brian’s Volvo had been replaced with a dinky little hatchback in canary yellow. A transfer on the back proclaimed “Powered by Fairydust.”
Fairies again! It’s like I’ve fallen into some dreadful post-modern production of Midsummer Night’s Dream and I’m Bottom. Only instead of an asses head I’ve got a girl’s ass- and everything else to go with it!
Doing her very best to ignore the trappings of femininity that surrounded her Belinda wended a slightly unsteady way in the direction of Queen’s Lake Castle. Her attempt wasn’t entirely successful – for some reason the satin against her breasts was wildly sensual and she could feel her erect nipples throbbing almost painfully with the slight movements of her body as she drove.
Despite her panic the approach to the castle soothed her a little. Even though it was within a short drive of the dingy post-industrial town where Brian taught the castle was secluded away along narrow, overgrown lanes in a little valley where the woods and water lay at the foot of steep-sided hills which shaded into mountains towards the west.
At the very heart of the valley the river widened into a small lake and on the edge of that lake stood a fairy tale castle, built and rebuilt a score of times in two thousand years, Roman foundations topped with Norman walls, Tudor rose brick sections added and towers remade into palatial turrets fit for a princess in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Coach houses, old barns and smithies, labourers’ cottages were scattered around it like a giant’s toys. Overgrown walls enclosing most of the valley marked the estate’s boundaries, accessible only by a wrought-iron gate which stood open, waiting to receive Belinda and her little fairydust-powered car, as if eager to add a human model to the scene.
By the time she stopped her little car by the main doors where a smiling Stefan awaited her Belinda was having to work to maintain her annoyance, a thing she found disturbing in itself. Brian had never any difficulty maintaining a seething anger – if anything quite the opposite. If Belinda was having such difficulty then more than her body had altered and the bodily changes had been quite frightening enough. A quick glance down at herself restored the anger to thoroughly effective levels and she stormed out of the car ready for confrontation.
It would have been more effective if the heels hadn’t tripped her just before she reached Stefan, literally flinging her into his arms.
“Butterfly! Come here, gorgeous.”
“Stefan, what’s going on?”
“Come here first.”
“Mffl! Mmmf! Mmm Mmmm!”
What’s happening to me? That actually feels GOOD!
Belinda could feel herself melting, becoming giggly and gooey. She stiffened her resolve and pushed him away
“Stop that! Stop it, damn you, I’m not a girl, I’m Brian, what’s happened?”
“I did tell you what happens when you dance with the faeries, and taste faery food and drink. It puts you in their power.”
“Tina and Arwen and all the rest can dress up as much as they like but they aren’t faeries. If someone did something to me it was YOU!”
“If?” Stefan laughed down at her “Oh my little Belinda, I suppose I should explain.”
“And I’m not your little Belinda, I’m Brian Jenkins.”
“No you aren’t. There’s no such person. There’s no proof that there ever was.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I told you I made software that creates or alters computer records.”
“Yes. You sold it to some sort of security agency.”
“Licienced it to them. Just this once I decided to use it for myself. There’s no record of a Brian Jenkins anywhere. No passport, no national insurance number, no birth certificate. “
“But..” The former Brian Jenkins felt her jaw drop as she gazed at him
“No degree certificates or qualifications either. Belinda Jenkins now, she exists. She’s three years younger than Brian was but then she saved time by never going to University. Sadly that means she isn’t qualified for anything but she has a part-time job in a nursery – she loves small children and she went off hairdressing.”
“B –buh – wha – “
“She makes things too – jewellery, dresses, ornaments,the most amazing meals, don’t get the idea she’s thick.”
“B- buh – wha – why – you – you said you wouldn’t take any more revenge? You – I – how?”
“ Some excellent questions. I said I wouldn’t send any photos to anyone who knew Brian. I didn’t. That’s another fairy trait – they never break their word but they’re like lawyers – you have to watch exactly what they say. You really shouldn’t have called me a fairy all those years ago. You gave me too many ideas.
All that bullying did things to me too. It made me a bit of a control freak. Years of never knowing when you’ll be assaulted, or abused or humiliated even in your own bedroom will do that to you. I like my women traditional, even submissive. The sort that like to be sexually dominated, who you’ll never find in trousers and who’d sooner have a husband than a career – not that the things always go together, but in my ideal they do, but I wanted her to be clever and quirky too. You wanted to know why I didn’t date one of the LARP girls – that’s why. I told the truth though when I said I liked you. It always hurt me that you hated me. I made you be Belinda for revenge. Then when I met her it was a revelation. You were my ideal girl, or at least you could be. ”
“How?” She managed to get out through a throat tight with fear
“I told you not to touch the food or drink of the fey. You’ll have heard that you can’t hypnotise someone into something they really don’t want to do?”
She managed to nod
“It isn’t true. Or at least it isn’t true with the right drugs slipped into a drink first. When you came over to visit a week after the party I slipped you a Mickey Finn then introduced you to a hypnotist from .... an agency that can’t be named, but they are good clients of mine.
We found all sorts of things once you were under. Did you know you had a deep, deep, underlying guilt complex about your bullying? And a desire to atone for it? Did you know you hated Brian Jenkins? You were glad to see him go. “
“I don’t hate being a man though! Or being heterosexual!”
“No, that was quite tricky. The hypnotist eventually managed it by tying your sex drive to your sense of being embarassed.”
“Eh?”
“Think about it. How do you feel wearing a dress?”
“Totally embarass – oh! I get it! Oh, you bastard!”
“Quite! Now think how you’ll feel sitting on my lap, going over my knee to be spanked; warming my bed; bearing my children.”
“Bearing your – no! That’s impossible!”
“At the moment. There is such a thing as a uterus transplant but I wouldn’t expect you to risk that til they’ve perfected the procedure. In the meantime though, you’re a joy to be with, a girl who’s permanently a little turned on. Nothing embarasses you more than being kissed – “ and he suited the action to the words
“Or fondled” and Belinda felt her nipple harden and her knees tremble at his caress
“Or ravished” Stefan effortlessly swept Belinda up into his arms and carried her in through the doors to the huge sweeping stone staircase. She felt child-like and helpless being carried, could see her feet dangling in their heels but felt a sensation of warmth and desire in the pit of her stomach that left her breathless: whatever Stefan and his pet evil hypnotist had done to her had worked – the very fact that she kept thinking of herself as ‘her’ proved that.
“Stefan” she said reproachfully “Stefan, this is cruel! You aren’t like that, surely.”
“I am a bit, this is cruelty to Brian, certainly. But believe me butterfly, you won’t regret this.”
“I already regret it! Only regret is the wrong word because you didn’t give me any choice!” she disentangled one arm from around his neck and feebly thumped Stefan across the shoulder: it was more a gesture of emphasis than anything else – she was much weaker now, she didn’t want him to drop her and above all she wanted to delay going across his knee for as long as possible. Of course, it had probably already happened – she had been a girl for a long time that she didn’t remember.
“Stefan! You made me go online to be molested by some pervert! Was that you?!”
“I cannot tell a lie. I thought it would be fun for you to experience what you’d put other girls through and I wasn’t going to miss it by letting someone else do it. “
“Have you done something like that to me in real life?!”
“Let’s just say we’ve played the Sultan and the slave girl a few times. And you loved every minute of it.”
“I did not!”
Stefan said something she couldn’t catch and immediately she was flooded with selected memories from the last year. She could feel the blush suffuse her entire body – she could even see her cleavage glow red. ‘Sultan and the slave girl’ was a mild way of putting it and she clearly had loved every minute of it.
“Master! Oh God, no, I didn’t mean to say that! Sugar! Hey! Why am I not swearing?! What else have you forced me to do?”
“I didn’t force you to do anything, but, I did set up just a slight inhibition. You can swear, if you really want to, but you won’t ever do it from shock or habit. You’re basically what they used to call a “nice girl”. Same with anger. You can force yourself to be cross but you can’t be carried away by rage or sustain it for long.”
“Cross? Cross? You mutilate me, brainwash me, do God knows what else to me and I can get cross?”
They had reached the master bedroom and Belinda let out a little oof as she was literally flung on to the huge four poster bed.
“Exactly. You also don’t have to make little girly gestures like covering your face in your hands when you’re shocked but the habit is there.”
One hand was gripping her ankle, the other pulling off her shoe.
“I can’t believe you made me your ideal woman, you manipulative bastard?! What else do I do – arrange flowers?!”
Despite her defiance Belinda was starting to feel a mixture of unease and stark fear as her second shoe spun away somewhere into the corner of the room and he tugged down the elasticated waistband of her skirt
Oh God, MY skirt! This isn’t a dream, this is real!
“Yes, you do. Didn’t you notice the arrangement of wildflowers in the hall – or the one on the bedside table over there?”
Glad of any distraction Belinda turned her head – it was truly beautiful and only her own perfume could explain how she’d missed the scent, like a burst of summer in the clear morning air. Unfortunately, letting herself be distracted turned out to be a tactical mistake as her skirt fluttered overhead on it’s journey to somewhere not standing between her and a rampant Stefan.
She scrambled back and on to the bed itself as he manged to whip her top over her head leaving her clad only in her black satin underwear. To her terror she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror – a beautiful young woman, crouched on her knees on a giant four-poster bed, arms crossed across her breasts cowering back towards the headboard.
Oh Lord, it shocks me every time I see it but I AM a girl! How am I going to live like this? What am I going to do?
It was as this question rang through her mind that Stefan reached her. An instant later she was on her back, bra somewhere round her neck and knickers being slid down her thighs.His hard, lean, muscled form pressed into her soft, yielding curves, holding her down. Her small wrists were pinioned by one of Stefan’s hands and his mouth was hot upon hers, claiming her. She felt their bodies flow together like water and every ounce of resistance seemed to drain out through her toes as desire flooded her.
Belinda felt her right wrist being fastened to one bedpost with a velvet cord, the left wrist following seconds later
“Would you like to be ravished?”
“Do I have a choice?” she murmured
“Not unless you really, really want one.” Stefan replied and kissed her.
Belinda closed her eyes in embarassment.
“No. Go on.”
A hand caressed her face and the fingers trailed down her slender throat, causing her to arch herself in response. Her new body was, it seemed, exquisitely sensitive. Her legs were gently parted and a hand reached down and trailed her own wetness across the head of her opening
I have a clitoris! And he’s found – ahhhhhhhhhhh!
The teasing fingers never stopped their dance as the Stefan’s other hand snaked under her soft buttocks and lifted her for penetration. The former alpha male, now a helplessly pinioned young girl tugged twice at her wrist ropes to no avail.
He’s –ahhhh! He’s inside me! I’m being fucked, had, taken. Oh my God, I’m a wench, a woman, a bit of crumpet – oh God, I’m a girlfriend – ahhhhh! I’m a trophy – oh my God – a trophy girlfriend – ooooooh! Literally – oooooohhhhh! He caught me and now he’s mounted me! Oooooh!! Mfflll! Kisses! Mmm, kiss me harder! Oh, my nipple, do that again! Oh, oh that feels good, oh, please don’t stop! Oh no, is that me moaning? Ooooooh! Yes it is! Oh what does it matter, I can’t be more embarrassed than this! Ooooohhh, yes, more, don’t stop. Oh yes I can, think what I did to girls as Brian! And he knows it all – he could do it to me! Oooooohhhhh! I don’t care! He probably will and I don’t care! Oh Stefan, Stefan,....
“I’m Belinda! I’ll be your Belinda! Just don’t stop! I’m your girl, don’t stop please!”
Stefan laughed, in joy and triumph and Belinda laughed and cried as she came, again and again.
Lying in his arms in the warm afterglow, head resting on his chest, while one of his hands gently stroked her back and buttocks and the other played with her long hair Belinda sighed contentedly.
“I hope you realise you’re a complete meanie?”
“I know. And you love it.”
“I know. I’ve been post-hypnotically conditioned by a control freak meanie evil scientist. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it! What’s your excuse, meanie?”
“You’re much happier now. You have loads of friends, you have no financial worries – “
“I don’t? But I thought I only worked part-time?”
“Yes, but you do that for fun. You’re a kept woman now.”
“Oh.” With an impish smile “Am I worth it?”
“Every penny!”
“Good! Carry on! But first tell me why you call me butterfly?”
“Because you went through a metamorphosis and emerged as a bright, colourful, dancing, fluttering creature of total beauty.”
“Good answer. OK, what else do I do?”
“You take part in amateur dramatics – you’re due to play Helena in a production of “Midsummer Night’s Dream” soon.”
“You’ll have to give me my memories back then: I can’t remember any lines.”
“I suppose I will – it’s just such fun seeing the look on your face – oww!”
Belinda stopped biting his chest
“That’s what you get for being a meanie – oww! That’s my bottom!”
“I know – and you’ll just have to get used to being spanked – it’s way too much fun to give up. Where was I?”
“You were explaining how being brainwashed, forcibly feminised and made a sexual plaything and kept woman by an evil genius was good for me. And I was biting you. Carry on.”
“You take part in all the LARPs now. You generally play a sort of medieval wench minstrel character that follows my fey Lord around. Toni always says you should be made to play something different because that’s what you do in real time too, but she doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“Toni?”
“Very tall elf archer girl. Likes you but you always think she’s jealous of us. Personally I think you’re imagining it but that’s what you always say.”
“Oh. That Toni. She fancies you. I don’t know how you can miss it“
“That’s what you always say.”
“I’m always right. Go on, how else am I happier as a kept woman who arranges flowers in between getting tied to the bed and sexually molested by a mad scientist?”
“Well for one thing, you always loved this castle.”
“I still love this castle. I totally love this castle. And I see you’ve done something girly to my turns of phrase as well. Meanie! Carry on.”
“Well when you move in after the wedding Queen’s Lake Castle will be yours. With all my worldly goods I thee endow, remember?”
“W – wuh – wuh-“
“You didn’t notice the ring?”
Belinda’s eyes lighted upon a huge diamond flanked by a cluster of emeralds that sat atop a ring on her wedding finger. How she’d not noticed it before she couldn’t dream – unless it was more post-hypnotic suggestion – the weight of it should have made it impossible to move her hand!
“Wuh- wuh- wuh- wedding???!“
TO BE CONTINUED?