Morning After the Night Before

Feedback and comments posted or emailed have encouraged me to at least consider continuing the story of Olive and Samantha. Thank you all for the constructive comments,
I do appreciate all the feedback received

Thanks again to Cresser for taken the time to edit, comment and tweak areas of the story to improve the flow.

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After breakfast at Mrs. Granger’s home, Sammy cleared up the breakfast dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Helen stood at the door and said, “You’re a wonderful homemaker, Sammy.” Sammy blushed at the compliment and Helen continued. “Let’s make some tea and join the others in the front room”.

The group got comfortable as Helen looked around.

“Okay, ladies, I have a few things to say. Firstly, we will guide and support both these new women through the transformations and we must find the victims of Oliver’s scams that are on his laptop we have picked up.” Olive looked up in hope at hearing the name Oliver again
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Oliver Brandon was in his mid-thirties and was of heavy build, if not verging on being overweight. He loved to dress in the style of a 1930s gangster, wearing a smart suit with a long overcoat hanging across his shoulders like a cape with the out of fashion trilby style hat covering his short greasy hair.

At school, he had been a bully; most other pupils tried to avoid him as much as possible; he never grew out it this and upon leaving school, he continued with these heavy-handed ways. Oliver was watching TV one day when he saw one of those daytime shows warning viewers about rogue contractors offering to work around homes and gardens.

The programme was intended to warn those watching to be aware of these scams, but it gave Oliver an idea of how to “earn” easy money.
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Samuel Johnston was of slim build, five foot six inches tall, with short mousey brown hair and sky blue sparkling eyes. He was a giver, never thinking of putting himself before others, always there to help with the little things.

At school, he had been much closer to the girls and their activities rather than any of the boys.

Samuel also had a secret desire; he always felt inside that he should have been a woman. This desire was so strong that he had difficulty in hiding this from those around him.
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In the front room Helen looked at them both with kindness. “Olive, now you are elderly and need support to get around each day. The potion has changed you to what you are today, in the form of one of your victims and we have arranged this so to as educate you about the error of your ways.

Everyone who knew you as Oliver believes you are away abroad on another one of your scams; this is all part of the potion you drank a few hours ago. It will be your choice, eventually, to return to being a male. Until that day arrives you will remain female, but we will support you and hopefully help you to learn to be a better individual.”
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“Sammy, many males will at one time or another in their lives dress in the clothing of the opposite gender,” Helen said. “Now that you are fully female you’re not a transvestite any more, are you?”. This was said in a gentle way and not in any way a condemnation of the old Samuel.

Sammy blushed beetroot red with this information in the room and looked away from the others, thinking back to those times when he was male. Feeling stuck in the wrong body, Samuel searched on the internet to discover more on how he felt, soon discovering he was not alone.

On one website, he found a small advert for males who wished to be females, featuring a dressing service that included changing facilities and a one-to-one support person working with them for the full time of their visit. It was not located in the main transgender areas of Manchester or London but much closer to home. Upon learning more, he decided he would like to try this option.

The service was in one of the suburbs of Birmingham located close to the alternative lifestyle district of pubs, restaurants and dance halls. After a few false starts Samuel plucked up the courage and booked an appointment, the first of many where he could dress and be a woman for a short time.
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Looking around the faces in the front room Helen got the laptop and put it on the table, only to discover she could not get it switched on to get into the information required to at least return part of the money taken from Oliver’s victims. Suddenly, laughter from the woman in the wheelchair drew everyone’s attention.

“What have you to laugh at?” asked Helen.

“The laptop will not work as the battery is flat - nothing more than that!” Olive cackled.
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To be continued...