Stowaway
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Part 1

“I’ll tell you what we are going to do,” said Dr Felton. Gina had referred the problem to her superior knowing that she would have a solution. “This boy cannot be concealed here, so he will need to hide in plain sight as one of our spa team.”

“But we have no men on our team,” said Gina. It was she who had found Miguel and promised to hide him. She was the source of the problem. Everybody stared her down.

“Exactly,” said Dr Felton. “We are a ladies’ medical spa, and we are a refuge for those of our sex. That cannot change. So, if he is to stay it is Miguel who will need to change. Fortunately we have all the tools to assist in that.”

Everybody looked at Miguel, and a flicker of realization began to appear on his face. He asked: “So, you want me to dress as a woman?”

“Young man,” said Dr Felton, in the imperious tone she could often muster: “with a good head of hair like yours, and a small and slight figure, we have a canvas upon which to paint a masterpiece.”

Miguel started to chuckle a little but his smiled faded as he looked at the faces around him. He said: “I can hide. It is a big ship.”

“It is a big ship,” the woman in charge confirmed. “But, if you intend to stay on this vessel until we get to South America as you say, that is a long time. We have several tours around the Pacific to cover. It will be six or seven months before we get back there. You will not be able to hide until then. You could always jump ship at our next port of call and take your chances, but you might consider that your best hope is to become one of the staff. There are almost 2,000 crew aboard; that is where to hide, not in the bilges or the lifeboats. But the choice is yours. I am only offering because Gina has agreed to help you. It puts us at risk too, you know. We should just turn you in.”

Miguel was angry, but he hid it well. He was skilled that way. He understood what she was saying. He needed to get out of Australia and the ship was there. He had come on in overalls with a tool box, following behind some other contractors. That part had been easy. But he had discovered that even a vessel this size presented limited places to hide. The linen store in the ladies spa was the only spot he could find. As it was, he was discovered within hours of sailing. To his good fortune, Gina had a soft spot for rascals, although she had no idea what kind of person Miguel was.

He had told her that he had met a girl who had run away with him. As he described it, they were in love and she was under age, but only the second part of that was true.

Until there was distance between himself and Australia and some time had passed, he needed to keep his head down. If that meant a disguise he could live with that, but in his mind he was too mannish (in Spanish macho) to ever pass as a woman.

“I could find a disguise as a male maybe?” he asked.

“The mixed spa is not run by me,” Dr Felton explained. “And I can assure you that Claudio would report you to the captain immediately. We are a women’s spa, staffed by women only. As for other places in the ship, well, you could take your chances and try to find somebody…”.

“First customers in 5 minutes,” trilled Tabby, the holder of the appointment book.

The commander of her spa, Dr Katherine Felton looked fixedly at the increasingly worried Miguel. “Make your mind up,” she said. “Stay here on these terms or take your chances elsewhere aboard. We won’t report you, but my guess is you will be found within a few days and detained until the next port. If that happens, of course we will deny ever having seen you or met you. So you have a decision to make.”

“Ok,” he said. “Disguise me as much as you are able.” He remained sceptical.

Spa Room 3 was his for the rest of the day. But staff needed to take turns in applying the various treatments.

Yolanda attended to facial depilation and the chemical peel. Tabby did the Brazilian wax followed by the full body moisturization. Helene attended to the hair, turning Miguel’s long oiled ponytail into a mass of shiny black waves.

Bianca was to attend to Miguel’s eyebrows and makeup, but not that day. The treatments had left the skin sensitive and instead Bianca gave the first of many lessons to Miguel on his presentations and the skills that he would need to develop to pass as female and remain undetected onboard.

Dr Felton herself attended to the injections – one shot below each pectoral muscle (slow release capsules with local effect), a scalp injection and two into the bloodstream. She knew the drugs well. They regularly worked miracles for her many customers facing menopause; the effects could be miraculous, but she needed the results to be visible during the short voyages. That meant substantial doses for immediate effect, with additional drugs to protect the liver.

Dr Felton had an important role to play aboard this cruise vessel. Many of the customers were of an age where major beauty treatments were demanded, and a period at sea allows for intensive treatment. She carried out minor cosmetic surgery and procedures where a licensed physician should be in charge. She paid nothing to live at sea and so was able to bank the profit from her clinic and could do locum jobs when ashore wherever she was needed. The life suited her.

Miguel was not a good patient, but he had to face reality. He was in the hands of these women until he could escape from the ship to a country where he could get lost. To leave the ship at any of the small Pacific Island countries was not an option. North America was a possibility, or he could wait until the voyages reached South America. That would be a while, but it seemed that he had found how he could do that. Even as the hairs were pulled from his body he had realized that this was something he could bear.

For Miguel, his major problem was the fact that the women were in charge. This was not the way he liked things. It seemed to him that he had spent his whole life rebelling against women in charge. Sometimes he felt justified in asserting his right of control, but not now. For now he needed to practice the walk, and the talk, and the sitting, and the standing, and applying lipstick, and mascara, and checking his hair.

But he would not be at leisure in this spa. He was crew. He needed to work. He was introduced to customers slowly. He had work to do in cleaning the rooms, bringing in and stacking clean towels and linen, collecting the dirty laundry, washing it, drying it, folding it, storing it. But then he was allowed into the salon area, to finish painting toenails. After a while, after having shown proper attention to his own hair, he was allowed to work as a shampoo girl.

He became used to being Maria, the spa trainee. It was Maria who had become more confident in speaking with a female voice, and learning the style of conversation used in the spa. It was nonsense to Miguel, but it passed the time pleasantly enough.

He became aware that his body was changing. It was becoming softer and rounder. And his penis was no longer hard. He could masturbate to emission, but his penis remained soft. This was difficult for Miguel to accept. He felt that he was once again being oppressed by women. Despite his waning sex drive he felt the need to express his anger, by hurting somebody. That was who he was.

Part 2.

“What have you done to me?” he screamed between gritted teeth.

“I have taken extreme steps to keep my people safe, and to keep everybody aboard this ship safe.” Dr Felton felt no shame or regret. She was justified. The beauticians Tabby and Bianca and Bianca looked on with the same determination.

“You have taken my balls,” he cried. His hand felt the bandages under the ice pack, but he knew what had happened.

“I thought your attack on Tabby last week would be the last straw, but let me tell you what happened today. You are a monster, Maria. You do not deserve to keep your testicles. You are too dangerous.”

What have you done with them you bitch?” he snarled.

“I threw them over the side,” she said bluntly. “They are feeding the fish, if they could stand to eat those awful things.”

Miguel tried to move, but he was tied to the chaise with straps around his thighs and ankles.

“You see, I had a visit from the Master at Arms, our Chief Security Officer, earlier this afternoon. He told me that he was investigating two serious crimes aboard the ship. They were not reported at the last two ports because they are crimes against crew only. It is cruise line policy that for those he just reports them to the police at the Port of Registry and conducts his own investigations. He is a very capable man. There have been two rapes. The second, the night after we pulled you off Tabby…”

“That would have made it three,” Tabby interjected, but Dr Felton raised her hand to command the room.

“Both victims said that the attacker was fully masked and wore gloves, but he was small and had a smell on him. Our CSO has been trying to literally sniff out the offender. He tasked me as the local expert, with finding the scent and sending samples for him to run under the noses of the victims. Together we found it. The scent was our moisturizer; your moisturizer. Rapists don’t use moisturizer. You are the only one who would, although I did tell him that men might use it. That was a lie to protect you. I suggested he look for a man with dry skin issues. But we all know it was you, don’t we?”

“I have a problem,” he said, looking down in mock distress. He was not intending to admit anything, but there it was. He was not contrite, but he was cornered. “I have desires that I can’t control. But how could you cut me like this? You are the monsters here.”

“I think that your problem might be solved now that you have no balls,” Dr Felton continued. “But we have the problem now. Our options were simple. We faced a choice, after we drugged you whether we throw you over the side tonight, or give you a chance to live. Even Tabby voted for you to live. But there is no Miguel now, do you understand? That rapist creep is dead. God knows what he did in Australia that had him flee that country. There is no going back to that life now. While here you are Maria, our shampoo girl, nail assistant and massage trainee. That is your chance at life. But make no mistake, any misbehaviour and you will not be missed. You are not on the passenger list or the crew manifest. Thanks to the hormones you are not strong enough anymore to fight us if we are more than one. The empty sea is only a rail away.”

“Don’t kill me,” he said, his situation now being understood. He was hurting and humiliated, but they had the power of life and death over him. He knew what that was. He had been in their position before – never in the victim’s position.

“If we thought you would rape again, we would,” said Tabby. Her anger was justified and he knew it. Yes, he tried to rape her. But he was not successful.

“Neutered but not neutralized,” Dr Felton said to Tabby. “His body was well laced with androgen blockers and estrogen but he was still driven to rape. You and the others want to give him a chance, but I think that you are all too kind-hearted for your own good. If it was down to me, he would be swimming right now.” She turned to face him accusingly: “But if there is any further sign of aggression we will need to come down hard.”

“We’ll watch him,” said Bianca.

“Her. You’ll need to watch her,” their boss corrected. “This is no longer a man in disguise. This is Maria. She just needs to get used to that idea.”

And suddenly Maria felt very vulnerable.

Part 3.

Karl Heusinger was bosun aboard the vessel. He had been at sea since he had dropped out of high school at a mature 14, and had served as deck crew on all manner of vessels in the 35 years since. He prided himself that he had been to every container port in the world, and a few other ports as well. Now, and for the last five years, he had been in charge of the deck crews on a passenger liner – an easier life and yet more places to visit and things to see. There was very little that he had not seen. There was very little he had not done. But this was a first.

“This is Maria,” said Bianca. “She has been a very naughty girl. She has been warned that she must behave at all times as a lady, but she has failed.”

“She sure looks like a lady to me,” said Karl, admiring the big brown eyes, full of fear. Maria’s long dark hair was twisted in Bianca’s fist. “But the doctor tells me that she has no vagina.”

Karl was not one to be violent towards women; he never had been. But there was something sexually attractive in fear, given that this creature was not fully female. Life as a merchant seaman had been tough. Plenty of men had been injured by his fists, some very badly.

“Dr Felton says that some physical punishment is necessary,” said Bianca. “In anticipation Maria has been toileted and her colon irrigated.”

“I am not sure what the means,” said Karl. He had no idea. Why should he?

“Her butthole has been washed and lubed,” said Tabby. It was almost a sneer. Maria could feel her anger. Tabby was just so tempting. It was not just her prettiness but her vulnerability. She wore it like a beacon. Even though Maria no longer had a working penis she had found a tool to do the job, but yet again she had been foiled.

“Do you want to watch?” said Karl. It was not an invitation. He was curious. But he would be happy to do it without them.

Bianca and Tabby looked at one another. They were considering it. One of them had to decide for both of them. Bianca said: “No.” She unwound the hair and they both left the room. It was a treatment room in the spa. A low table with a mattress covered in plastic and with towels across it.

“Well Maria,” said Karl. “We have a Master at Arms for formal discipline, but I am in charge on informal discipline on this vessel, and there is some punishment to be meted out.”

“I am not a woman,” said Maria. It seemed as if it might be a defence. It might discourage this wolf of a man. Physical resistance seemed impossible. And yet the denial sounded barely credible. The voice was high. The body was weak and smooth skinned, the face and hair unmistakably feminine as would be expected of a worker in a house of beauty.

“I can be a gentle lover,” said Karl. There was a grin, but it was true. “Would you like to be fucked, or can we try to make it something you could enjoy?”

Maria sighed. It seemed that the tables were now turned about. A lifetime of fucking was over and now she was to get what he had given. Resisting causes pain. He knew that. He used to want it. He used to wish it when they went limp. He would scowl under his breath: ‘Fight me. Fight me and suffer for it.’ He may have, but she was not about to fight.

“Do it,” Maria said with resignation.

She was wearing the smock with only underwear beneath. Karl could have just turned her around and pulled down the granny panties she wore to hold in what was left but he came face to face and undid the wrap-around and pulled it off her shoulders. He reached around to unclip her bra with a skill that was obvious. Both bra and smock fell to the floor.

“Wow. Titties,” said Karl. “You are a girl. Or are these implants?”

“I grew these,” said Maria. There was a pride is her voice that even surprised her. She was used to them now. She fondled them in the shower daily. Even with sexuality work on the nipples gave her a thrill. And they were well shaped and positioned. Her hands went to cup them, but his beat hers.

“Nice,” he said. “We’ll have to do this face to face. I want to see these puppies jiggling.”

Maria looked into his face with horror. It was close to hers now. Strong and tanned; weather beaten by wind and salt. She expected his breath or his body to smell bad – perhaps of rotting fish, but instead it smelt not unpleasant – of tar and wet rope. Something like her father; the smell of a man, or of physical dominance. Father … yes.

“Pull down those pants,” said Karl. Maria followed instructions while keeping her eyes on him. Somehow she needed to watch his reaction. Somebody else may have sought to turn away. Not this new part-woman.

“Interesting,” said Karl. At first he did not want to touch it, but he could not resist giving it a little flick and then reaching down just to make sure that the scrotum was empty. He said: “I think I would prefer to ignore this, but if you want to tug on it then you just go for it.”

Maria turned around and got on her hands and knees, butt hole towards him.

“I told you I want face to face,” he said. “I want to see you and you need to see me. Let’s get some towels under that butt of yours to make it easier. Hmm, yes, there is some oil oozing out.”

Maria lay back with the towels beneath her. She looked at the ceiling. She was not a believer, but she recited a small prayer silently, adding the unsaid words: ‘Let it be quick. Let him be quick’.

But he played with her. He explored her waxed thighs and belly, and he leaned over her and licked her nipples with a tongue almost as rough as his calloused hands. He was growing all the while and she knew it, but she dared not look.

And then she felt it press at her and go in. She was now relieved for the preparation, although it seemed to her that the enema had been for Dr Felton’s benefit not hers. But there was curiously little pain despite the obvious fact that he was larger than normal, by her own standard anyway.

She looked at the ceiling as if to divert her mind, but she could not escape the knowledge and the feeling – there was another person inside her body. Her body was linked to another’s, now moving with slow deliberate strokes, the only sound being his heavy breathing and the slurp of lubricant.

‘So this is what it is like to be raped’, she thought, almost distractedly.

“Baby, this is good,” she heard him say. She wanted to express disgust somehow. But she was beginning to realize that he was right. It was good. It was all wrong, but it was good.

She felt a heat rising in her. It was as if her brain was emptying of all thought. There was only sensation. There was his body – hairy and hard, rough and strong; and hers – soft and smooth, moist with sweat but perfumed. The heat was rising higher.

“Oh fuck,” he said. He emptied inside her. It was exquisite. She found her mouth open and wailing. It was a sweet feminine sound. And there were tears in her eyes. It was a moment of pure joy.

Part 4

“This is the moisturizer that I use,” said Maria.

Mrs. Rose Delvaney from Connecticut lay on the chaise, looking forward to receiving “The Works” at the cruise ship spa today. She said: “You have such beautiful skin.”

“Thank you,” said Maria. “But I can promise you that the treatment I have lined up for you will give you skin just as soft and youthful. We really know what we are doing here at the Felton Spa.”

“Have you worked here for long?” Rose was now relaxed by the lotion being worked into her face by expert hands from somebody who was clearly very capable.

“This is my third year,” said Maria. “But it is likely to be my last. My husband works on board too, in charge of deck crew. He is retiring this year. We are setting up a small resort in the Caribbean next year. A fishing lodge and spa. He will take the men fishing, and the wives can get the best treatments ashore.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Rose. She felt wonderful. Very relaxed. She thought for a moment and felt compelled to ask: “But you don’t offer medical beauty treatments on board anymore, do you.”

“Not since we lost Dr Felton a couple of years ago, no,” said Maria. “But the spa here still carries her name.”

“Did she retire too?”

“Goodness no. Perhaps you haven’t heard, but Dr Felton disappeared one night. Fell overboard they say. It does happen.”

“Oh dear,” said Rose.

Maria smiled, and for a moment Rose felt curiously uncomfortable.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2020