Diva Dismayed: Chapter 9 – And then not
Not long after my probationary weeks at the salon had passed, Mrs Millward called me into her office. I was a little nervous, wondering if I had done something wrong, though I couldn’t think of anything. I was glad when instead she said she’d had the strangest telephone call. “It was long-distance. Can you guess who it was from?”

I couldn’t imagine and said so.

“Your former employer, Mrs Bell.”

I gazed at her, dumb-struck, before blurting “What did she want?”

“Oh, she was quite friendly. She started by asking if I remembered her and we had a little chat recalling old times. Eventually she told me that the purpose of the call was to enquire if I’d been approached by a young girl called Jennifer who was wanting work. She said she needed to know because this girl had been employed in her salon and was owed some back pay, so she was trying to get in touch. A dark-haired girl, apparently.”

I coloured at my new employer’s significant glance, but managed a faint protest. “That was untrue. She doesn’t owe me anything.”

“Well, you will be pleased to know that I thought it smelled fishy, too. The story put me on my guard so I decided not to play along. I simply denied all knowledge of any such person.”

My eyes must have been round as saucers.

“Did I do the right thing?”

“Oh yes, absolutely.”

“I told her I would be sure to let her know if I came across the girl. She thanked me and that was how the matter was left. Can you think what she might have been after?”

I shook my head. Truthfully I couldn’t, though I knew it couldn’t be good. “Thank-you… for being so discreet. I would like to keep any contact with Madeleine to a minimum. That way would make my life less complicated.”

My employer frowned at my use of the first name. “Madeleine? I can see there is more to this than meets the eye, but…” she ended by smiling, “happy to oblige. You have made a good start here and I’m very content with your work. If there’s ever anything you need to discuss with me, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I thanked her again.

When I mentioned the incident to Rachel that evening she became thoughtful. When she had considered my tale for some moments, she reminded me what had passed when I’d called my ex. “Didn’t Madeleine threaten that you hadn’t heard the last of her? She must be trying to find where you might be working. I can’t think what she has to gain… except perhaps to pay you back for leaving her. That isn’t to be taken lightly as she can make trouble for you. She might have told Mrs Millward who you were and the consequences of that could have been serious. As it is, you were fortunate your employer decided not to trust her.”

She considered some more. “First round to you, I think, but don’t expect that she will necessarily leave it there. She’s might try something else.”

Previously my mentor and friend had warned me that in these parts people were less tolerant regarding ‘cross-dressing’ than back home. There the subject had never been raised as an issue, at least to my knowledge, but not so here. Probably most people didn’t care, but apparently there had been police raids on certain bars and even arrests. An obsolete law prohibiting anyone “wearing the dress of the opposite sex” had been cited in those cases. To live in a place where such an attitude prevailed made my own position much more vulnerable. Such lack of tolerance served as a chilling reminder of how essential it was that Jennifer’s birth gender remained a matter of mystery.

After a pause she continued “I can’t think that your ex would drive all the way over here and try to find you in person. No doubt she knows my address, so I’ll watch out to be doubly sure. Don’t worry, I won’t give you away. Perhaps we could put it about back home that you’ve moved on to stay with your dad. That would be a bit hard for anyone to swallow but perhaps staying near him rather than with him might be believable. We’ll think of something, never fear, but be on your guard.”

“Perhaps I really should move on…” I hesitated.

“Oh no!” Rachel looked horrified at the suggestion. “Where would you go? You don’t want to leave, do you?”

“No, but it might be better for everyone. You might get into trouble yourself on my account.”

She shook her head. “No chance! Anyway I’d miss you. I like your being here with me.” She put her hand on my arm and blinked back a tear. “I didn’t realise how lonely I was before you came.”

Not for the first time, I wished I hadn’t met my ex-fiancé, or at least hadn’t become so entangled with her. The lavish nature of Madeleine’s lifestyle had been a lure which I had not been able to resist when I’d first met her at the tender age of fourteen. Since that just happened to be the age of consent in the state where we lived, there was nothing absolutely wrong in my receiving the ‘education’ that followed, although most folks would have disapproved. Even my mother, with an unhappy marriage behind her to colour her judgement, believed that it was essential I fully understand how a woman’s body worked. Her desire throughout was that my experience of womanhood should be as complete as possible!

Along with her expensive tastes and her exotic mode of dress, Madeleine certainly knew how to beguile my imagination. She also was happy to press my buttons sexually and it might be guessed that my response was typical for a red-blooded boy of my years. Even now, after all that had happened, I could get aroused just thinking about her willowy body that I’d got to know so well. It sometimes took a real effort to stop my thoughts dwelling on her.

It became clearer than ever to me that my newfound security in having a job, having somewhere to live and even being enrolled as a student was totally dependent on maintaining my feminine persona, though that happened to be the opposite of my avowed long-term goal. My life was getting more and more complex, but I didn’t seem to have any choices. More and more people were getting to know and accept me as Jennifer which was good but would make it harder than ever to change at some point in the future.

The following week I returned to see the doctor as arranged. I’d been mulling the choices he’d outlined at the previous appointment without coming to a firm decision. There were still too many questions unanswered. I was anxious about the interview and tried to remain hopeful that the physician would clarify the possible outcomes on this consultation. Then I could make a decision.

To bolster my sagging confidence on the day I selected another of my prettiest dresses to wear. It was a figure-hugging little frock in a pale yellow which I felt showed off my curves to advantage. Not that anyone would notice, of course. I mean, I’d be unlikely to encounter Harvey for example, even if my walk did take me past his place of work. As it happened I didn’t see him and felt not a trace of disappointment. Well perhaps a little. Okay, a whole lot! Where was that guy when a girl needed some affirmation?!

I duly arrived at the hospital only to be informed by Dr Beckwith’s receptionist that he had rearranged my appointment by referring me to a colleague who he believed had more experience in the specialised field we were dealing with, a Dr Nahar. I was somewhat put out at this alteration, but had little choice but to accept the change. The thought of having to start again with another doctor didn’t sit well with me. I was directed to a consultation suite at the other end of the building, and filled with misgivings I set off down a long corridor. To get there seemed to take for ever but eventually I reached the suite in question and entered the waiting room. I was thankful that it was empty and feeling uncomfortable and uneasy I took a seat.

After a delay of about twenty minutes I was about ready to give up and go, but then the consulting room door opened and I was shown into the inner sanctum by an Asian woman.

She proved to be the doctor herself. Several inches shorter than me, she made up for her lack of height by the generosity of her figure. Her curvy body was only partly concealed by the loose robes she was wearing and gave off a heavy perfume. The combination seemed to my disturbed brain to belong rather in some exotic movie than in a consulting room. As my senses took all this in I experienced that familiar tingling down below, much to my consternation.

She consulted a file of my medical details before turning to address me. “You are Jennifer, yes?” She spoke with only a hint of an accent and carried herself with a majestic air exuding supreme confidence. “You have been referred to me because Dr Beckwith feels that my expertise is more relevant to your immediate needs. He is correct. As regards your hormonal imbalance, he has already investigated the type of medication you need and we are agreed that in the medium term you should continue with what you have been taking.”

Her bald statement startled me. I had the impression that I had been given choices in this matter, but before I could raise an objection I was bidden “Remove your dress and brassiere please.”

Her manner left me no option but to comply. She proceeded to note down measurements similar to those her colleague had taken the week before. Then she turned her attention to what was for me a key issue. “You probably are uncertain of the effects your regime will have on your sexual potency, given the medication involved. This is likely to have a profound bearing on the choices you will be able to make about your future.” Then “undress and lie down, please.”

In the absence of any screen to give me privacy I obeyed reluctantly, hesitantly removing my waist cincher, hose and panties. Out of a sense of modesty I climbed onto the couch and made to lie on my front. An impatient motion of the doctor’s hand however, indicated that this position did not suit her and obediently I turned over. I was self-consciously aware that I was now lying completely exposed in front of a total stranger. What made it worse was that to me she seemed much less like a physician than I expected.

Even more embarrassingly, my private area had chosen this moment to respond to the proximity of her curvaceous female body, inasmuch as it was able to. So humiliating!
I needed to remember that she was a doctor and get a hold of myself, for heaven’s sake. Just when I felt that my shame could not be heightened any farther, the woman took my feeble erection in her fingers. She began to work on it and explained as she kneaded and stroked, “These beginnings of arousal form a good opportunity to explore. You have no objection? Good. We need to understand the extent and degree of firmness which you can achieve.”

While I inwardly wanted to die, she took some measurements and noted them down. She then made more vigorous attempts to stimulate me further. Her closeness and heavy scent added to the excitement of the experience and my little member’s reaction exceeded my expectations. Periodically glancing at my face Dr Nahar clearly knew exactly where I was at and she stopped in good time.

“Good” she declared again. “It is evident that you still have a normal male response, even if somewhat limited” she summarised.

“Whereas if we…” she resumed her massage with one hand while with her other proceeded to touch me in a different place. The effect was dramatic. My erection grew even harder and ten seconds later I knew that if I didn’t do something drastic, I would be unable to control myself. With an effort I pushed her hand away, and lay back breathing heavily.

She smiled. “Good! That is very good!” She sounded immensely satisfied with her findings. “With attention to this area…” she gestured towards the erogenous zone she had explored moments before “…I see no reason why you would be unable to achieve full penetration. So as things stand you are able to have a meaningful sexual relationship with a woman, as long as it is the right woman. Or equally, if you prefer it, with a man.”

What?! Why with a man?!

“In the country I come from, cases like yours are not uncommon. Let me see.” She perused the file of my notes for several minutes in silence.
“You are sixteen, yes?”

All I could do was to nod, too self-conscious to speak. Perhaps we were finally going to talk about my future.

As if she heard my thought, “Having come so far towards becoming fully female, it would be unproductive to take any retrograde steps before completion of your transformation is achieved in the next two years. After that period your development will naturally slow down as your bodily growth decelerates. Only then do I think it will be opportune for you to make informed choices. It may be then you decide that surgery will be appropriate, in which case you will have these removed and live as a man” indicating my swollen chest mounds. “Alternatively you could choose to remain as you are or as seems more likely… have a different kind of surgery.” She made a cutting motion with her hand across my groin.

Her meaning was all too clear. She meant, going all the way! I lay there trying to take all this in.

“Are we agreed?”

I was too confused to protest and in any case couldn’t disagree with her logic. Decisively she walked across to a cabinet and took out several clear phials of liquid. She unstoppered one and inserted a syringe. The next thing I was aware of was a sharp sting in my right buttock.

Oww!!

“There!” she exclaimed with a satisfied smile. “That was a small dose of an oestrogen booster to accelerate your hormonal development. It will push things along nicely for you. I recommend a repeat injection every fortnight until you are eighteen.” Handing me the remaining phials, “Any qualified nurse may administer this for you. And, you will keep to your present medication. Get dressed please!”

The interview was apparently over. I walked back to my apartment in a daze. My dream of regaining my maleness any time soon had been completely shattered. I was facing at least two whole more years as a girl! And then if I finally decided to make the attempt to return to manhood no doubt I would have much more bodily ‘development’ that needed to be dealt with. The prospect was alarming.

I thought about the other type of future she had so casually mentioned, and I shivered at the very idea. What if I chose to have a different type of surgery? Thinking about that outcome was scary but at the same time some aspects of it intrigued me. What might it be like, having…? I blushed at the thought. Overall I had to recognise that what I’d tacitly accepted was to go with the status quo. There were no choices to be made right now. I would have to accede to the doctor’s instructions, whether I liked it or not.

That night I slept badly. There were so many random thoughts going around in my head that it was hardly to be wondered at. Eventually I must have dosed off but only to experience unsettling dreams.

I had returned to the clinic for a further injection. Dr Nahar made me lie on that couch again. Her face now bore a more sinister mien and she resembled nothing less than some kind of enchantress from a Disney fairy tale. I felt myself freeze under her chilling gaze. Again she smiled that satisfied smile and held up a giant syringe to the light. I was petrified. The iridescent liquid inside it shimmered and glowed with an ethereal quality. Uttering a cry of triumph she plunged the needle into my butt. I could feel the flow of fluid into my protesting flesh which seemed to take an eternity but once complete, its effect on my slender body was dramatic and a tingling sensation engulfed the whole of me.

The scene had somehow changed to an ancient palace where I reclined on a golden throne. I was dressed like a harem girl from the Arabian Nights.

The tingling grew stronger. My boobs began to swell and then my hips, my thighs and belly engorged until their dimensions surpassed those of the doctor herself. Still they grew until I became unaware of anything else. Finally the tiny protrusion that lay hidden between my mountainous limbs shrivelled until it was no bigger than a hazel nut, whereupon it dropped off and fell with an audible clunk to the floor! I was conscious of an emptiness in its place. How was it ever to be filled? The void became all I was aware of until in the flickering light I perceived a tall figure striding toward me. It was muscular and erect. At last! I trembled in anticipation.

Then I awoke, shaking and bathed in perspiration. All that had happened had only been a dream! While I was relieved to find that my body had resumed its normal dimensions, my feelings were tinged with regret. Within me there was a longing to experience what would have happened next and I turned over to try and regain the dream. Of course, it was no good. The dream was gone. I lay awake for some time before I was able to sleep. Thankfully when I did so the remainder of my night was undisturbed.