---

 
I was lost.

I was wet through.

The cold rain was battering my face mercilessly.

I was running for my life.

Each step of my four inch heels on the hard concrete was like a knife through my body.

My pursuers, an assortment of devils, ghouls and demons were gaining on me.

The blood trickling down my forehead was making it hard to see.

I was going to die.

Why?

Four hours earlier

I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror for what seemed the trillionth time. It was too late to back out now but I wasn’t looking forward to the evening at all. I was going to get clocked all night.

It was Liz’s fault.

It was her idea to wear short sexy vampira costumes to Halloween night at the Way Out, rather than our usual long flowing witch outfits. A great idea for her five foot five slenderness, not so good for six foot of oestrogen induced plumpness.

I picked up my bra inserts and positioned them to give myself the slightest of cleavage before attaching the choker and the collar to the outfit.

There was a knock on the flat door. I quickly picked up my previously worn peasant skirt and top and stuffed them in the overflowing washing basket by the door of the bedroom. I grasped the majority of the piled up newspapers from the sitting room/kitchen table and put them in the recycle bin before opening the door.

“Hi Moll,” said Liz as she stood grinning in the doorway, “You ready yet?”

“Almost, want to come in for a bit,” I responded, beckoning her in with my arm.

She glided past me into my student flat, a vision of sexiness as her lucky genetics made her fill out amply her version of the costume, “Only for a few minutes, Moll, the car’s in a short stay parking place.”

“Glass of wine?” I asked, after Liz had made space for herself on the lumpy sofa by arranging the research journals in a tidy pile on the side table.

“Please, but only a small one, I’m driving, remember.”

I quickly poured two glasses from the half empty bottle. A large one for me and a smaller one for Liz.

“You look fantastic as always, Liz, love your hair,” I commented as I handed her the wine glass.

“Thanks, it’s a new salon on Tottenham Court. Your outfit makes you look pretty scary.”

“Yup, fat, frumpy and fearsome all in one go,”

“I’m sorry, Mol, I thought it would suit you too,” said Liz, soothingly.

“So how’s the thesis coming on?” she asked, changing the subject, after taking a sip of her Chardonnay.

“Slow, maybe another year, quicker if there are some results at Cern when I’m over there.” I replied.

“I won’t ask you to explain what you’ll be doing there. I didn’t understand it even in Cardiff doing your degree, I fell asleep last time you told me about Super Symmetry,” Liz responded, laughing at the memory of me droning on for ten minutes to her in bed, oblivious to her sleeping, until she started snoring.

I smiled and took another mouthful of wine remembering the bitter sweet ending of our relationship. We had met, as two guys, at a BiCardiff social and hit it off straight away despite our dissimilar courses, me Physics, her dress design.

Finding that we were both trans made us very close for a while even though we often appeared as a straight couple in public. Liz was very pretty even before hormones. However once we began to transition in our final years her greater interest in men than women meant breaking up amicably was better than losing her friendship, even though I was still in love with her.

There was a silence between us for a couple of minutes until Liz finished her glass and stood up, “Come on girl, we need to get motoring. The night is young and we need to get to Way Out before all the decent men are taken.”

I picked up my purse and followed her down to the street outside the City University flats.

Soon Liz was driving us in her brand new Mini MG convertible in the busy evening central London traffic.

“Nice car, Liz, how come?” I asked.

“Got a bonus after my last collection,” she replied, “You like it?”

“Like crazy, but no chance of ever affording one on my studentship salary.”

Liz chuckled, “You’ll just have to hope you score with some right old banker tonight and make good use of all his assets.”

We both laughed at her attempt at a double-entendre. For the rest of the journey we relaxed

While she negotiated our passage to the Way Out Club we chatted about our jobs and mutual friends in London and South Wales. I soon lost my resentment of earlier as I enjoyed the pleasure of Liz’s close company.

Three hours earlier

Forty minutes later we arrived at the club and joined a long but quick moving queue of customers of all genders, looks, shapes and sizes. We were soon in and grabbing our first drinks.

Almost before we sat down Liz was approached by a young attractive man and went off to join the throng on the dance floor. I resigned myself to either being a wallflower for the night or hooking up with some much older partner later on in the evening. Either that or to get drunk, whichever came sooner.

I was two further drinks down the road to oblivion when a tall slender attractive woman about my age,dressed as a devil in a clinging red top and short skirt, came towards where I was sitting. She squatted down near to me to be heard over the loud music.

“Hi, hun, anyone sitting there,” she said in a soft lilting contralto, indicating the seat next to me where I had placed Liz’s bag.

“Only my friend but she’s off dancing, you’re welcome till she comes back,” I replied, emptying the seat.

“Fiona,” she said extending her beautifully manicured hand with brilliant red nail varnish, after she had sat down.

“Mollie,” I responded, gently touching her hand with my black varnished fingers.

We sipped our glasses in silence for a few minutes until I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I turned to see Fiona’s beautifully made up face close to mine.

“I know it’s very stale question but do you come here often,” she asked, smiling, showing her perfect teeth.

“Not really, maybe every couple of months, can’t really afford it, how about you?”

“First time.”

“Really, how come?”

“I’m pretty stealth.” Fiona explained.

“Didn’t even think you were trans.”

“Transitioned at school.”

“Lucky you, your parents must be cool.”

Fiona smiled again and nodded before telling me about her generally positive experiences of being accepted at an early age by her parents and siblings. I countered with my sorry tale and the family that had stopped acknowledging my existence over two years ago.

We were on our second glasses of wine when Liz came back accompanied by the handsome guy who had first approached her. She came over and sat down next to me while Fiona went off to the loo.

“Hey Mol, what do you think of him?” she asked, having to almost shout into my ear in the increasing hub-bub.

“Nice body, you like him?”

“I so do fancy him, Mol. But there’s a little problem.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s invited me back to a private party at his so I got to take the car,” she explained looking a little sheepish.

My heart sank as I considered the prospect of having to get home on public transport.

“D’you mind, Mol, I’m really sorry but I can't leave the car here overnight.”

“OK, I’ll be fine, I can get the night bus.” I said, trying to sound more convincing than I felt.

“Thanks, love,” said Liz as she gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, “have a good night.”

As usual Liz’s touch had rekindled the furnace of suppressed emotions and I stared at her longingly as she left arm in arm with her company for the evening.

“Penny for them, hun” asked Fiona as she sat back down next to me, “some history there?

“That’s my friend, Liz, she also my ex from before,” I explained before giving Fiona a very brief description of my former relationship.

“How about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Got a boyfriend?”

“I had but maybe not looking any more. Come on Mollie, your friend’s gone no need to hang onto these seats any more, let’s dance.”

Fiona took my hand a led me into the crowd who were moving in all sorts of directions on the main dance floor. After a while I lost my inhibitions and my self consciousness about how I looked in my outfit and started to enjoy myself with my attractive companion.

Some twenty minutes later there was a change of tempo as the DJ announced a run of slow numbers. I was about to look for a seat when Fiona took my hand and pulled me towards her.

“Where’re you going Mol, don’t you like me?”

“I like you a lot but didn’t think you’d want a slow with me.”

“Definitely,” she replied, holding me close. It felt so good to be held, especially since she was slighter taller.

The lights dimmed and spooky halloween images were projected around the club. I soon felt myself being aroused by our intimate dance.

One hour earlier

All too soon the evening was over and it was time to leave.

I walked out into the cold autumn evening with my arm around Fiona’s waist while she draped her arm over my shoulder, surreptitiously squeezing my breast.

“What are you doing now?” I asked, nervously.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you could come back to mine, if you like, but it’s OK if you don’t I mean....” I said quickly almost falling over the words, feeling very anxious.

She put her finger on my mouth to halt the my spluttering speech, guided the two of us towards a little alcove outside the club and then kissed me, a deep probing kiss, strong but tender at the same time. I felt myself going weak at the knees.

“I’d love too, but I’m so sorry I’ve got to work tomorrow, early shift.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, feeling really deflated.

“I want to see you again, Mol, what about a drink tomorrow evening?”

“Great.”

We arranged the details and then exchanged numbers. She gave me a last kiss before she went off to join the long queue for taxis while I turned with a last wave to walk to the night bus stop. She had offered to share a taxi but my place was a good mile further away and I couldn’t afford it.

As I walked along the street I suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable. The pubs and clubs were beginning to empty and I was aware of the many glances I was getting. I heard one man, part of a drunken group, shouting from across the street.

“Get off the street you fat tranny.”

I quickened my step and was almost at the bus-stop when I saw the bus coming round the corner. At the same time the heavens opened. I started to run towards the oncoming bus, oblivious to even more strange looks, having calculated I just had enough time to make it.

I almost fell over the woman half sitting, half lying on the pavement. I attempted to run round her but before I’d passed her hand was on my arm.

“Please help me, I fell over and I can’t get up,” she pleaded in a strangely low voice.

I tried to pull her up quickly hoping I’d have enough to time to still catch the bus but the woman took an age to use my arm to pull herself to an unsteady standing position. Before I could ensure she was stable on her feet I heard the sound of my bus leaving the stop.

I turned around and watch my personal salvation leave me behind.

“Shit,” I exclaimed, in frustration.

“What’s up me dearie? “ asked the old woman, exposing me to her fetid, drink laced breath.

“Nothing, are you OK now?” I responded as I helped her sit on one of the plastic seats in the now empty bus-stop.

“Still a bit unsteady, but I’m indebted to you, what’s your name dear?”

“Mollie, shall I get you a coffee or something?”

“Thank you, I’m a Mollie too, just like you, not many of us left, used to be so many, the times we had at Mother Claps...” rambled the old woman as she rocked sleepily in the seat.

“You wait here, I’ll nip into the corner shop and get you a strong coffee.”

I turned my back and with great trepidation I walked into the busy 24 hour convenience shop. It seemed like everyone stopped talking and stared at me as I walked towards the drinks machine. I quickly inserted the coins and urged the machine to produce my beverage before there was any hassle. But before I could escape two tall teenage boys had contrived to roughly push into me as they left the shop.

The machine made a cheery noise to announce the arrival of the double strength coffee with extra sugar. I grabbed it too soon, ignoring the pain in my fingers.

“If that doesn’t wake her up, nothing will,” i said to myself as I exited the shop. I walked the twenty metres to the bus-stop as quickly as I could without tipping the scalding liquid onto my fingers.

She was gone.

The bus-stop was empty apart from one of the two youths who had pushed into me in the shop.

I bit my lip and summoned up all my courage with my concern for the unfortunate woman while cursing my too male sounding voice, “Excuse did you see an old woman here, waiting on the seat.”

He turned and looked at me in extreme distaste, “Fuck off freak, no-one here but me.”

I turned and walked away as quickly as I could. I felt even more depressed now at the prospect of having to walk the three miles back to my flat since it didn’t seem safe to wait for the next bus with the transphobic lad and no doubt some of his friends later on.

Suddenly there was a sudden gust of wind through my hair and damp clothes. I heard a whisper, almost too faint to be decipherable.

‘If you need help tonight ask the Mollies ‘

Fifteen minutes earlier

I’d been walking for over half an hour. My feet were really aching but I was glad I’d not seen too many people around. I’d been lucky in it being the hour gap between the pubs and normal clubs closing and the clubs with a bigger spending clientele closing.

Suddenly I turned a corner and saw a small group ahead of me. I was about to cross the road before they’d notice me when I heard a familiar voice.

‘Please leave me alone, I’m on my way home, I need to get to work.”

It was Fiona.

There were five men, in a variety of Halloween costumes, surrounding her. Evidently she had got out of her taxi just as the drunken group were coming along the street.

“We can give you plenty of work right now.” said one drunken idiot.

“You give reductions for fellow devils?” asked another, laughing raucously.

“Leave me alone or I’m calling the police.” shouted Fiona.

“Do what you like bitch, we’re still going to shag you, won’t be any police around her for hours.” stated the biggest of the men.

Another of the men pulled Fiona’s top down and started squeezing her breasts.

“Get off you bastard!” she screamed, pushing him away into the bigger of the men. They both stumbled.

Before they could recover I ran into them with as much force as I could summon and pushed them into their three companions.

“Run, Fiona, now!”

She looked at me in complete shock and hesitated. I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her in a direction away from the brutes.

“Go now it’s your only chance!”

She started to run to safety and I turned to face her attackers, who by now had regained their balance. The hate and hostility was clear in their faces.

“It’s a fucking freak,” said the drunken man.

“I don’t want to shag that thing” said the man dressed as a devil.

The apparent leader walked toward me quickly and grabbed me round the throat, “What do you think you’re doing you fat tranny, you think we want your ass instead of her cunt?”

“You look like a bunch of sissies, thought you'd like to suck my cock,” I said provocatively.

He released my throat to raise his hand to strike me, I tried to roll away from the blow but he still caught me on the side of my head. I fell to the ground with a sudden massive headache feeling dazed.

Before one of the others could kick me I rolled away along the pavement. My hand encountered a small pile of gravel. I took a handful and getting up a little groggily stared at my attacker.

“No point denying it big boy, you want to suck me off, I can see your hardon."

He started to run towards me, followed by his fellow idiots, as he did I threw the gravel into his face. I then turned and ran in the opposite direction to the one Fiona had taken.

By the time the leader had brushed the gravel from his face and the others had waited for him I had a good four hundred metres on them.

Now

I’d been running for five minutes. They were less than twenty metres behind me. Although I was handicapped by my heels, they were handicapped by their drunkenness and obesity.

I knew it was only a matter of time.

I turned a corner, I noticed the name of the street ‘Shoe Lane’. If only I thought to myself.

Suddenly the chase wa over and I stumbled as the fastest moving pursuer caught me and pushed my shoulder.

I flew into the wall hitting a metal plaque.

In an instance they were onto me, punching me in the back and head, with the boots flying in.

As I began to lose consciousness I smiled at the thought of Fiona’s escape.

For some reason the words I thought I’d heard in the wind after helping the old woman came to mind.

‘Please help me Mollies’ I thought to myself.

Suddenly there was a rush of wind that seemed to go through my body coming out of the plaque that I was pressed against.

I seemed to half hear some spectral voices.

‘Help our fellow Mollie'

'Save our Mollie'

The beating stopped and I slumped to the ground.

The sound of the wind rushing around in the lane seemed to increase to a high pitched, ghostly whine. Then the thugs started pleading.

“No”

“Leave me alone”

“Get off”

“For fucks sake”

As I lay on the ground I realised that my pain had dissipated. Then there was suddenly a disgusting smell that filled the lane. I smiled as the phrase ‘Shit Scared’ came to mind.

I heard the biggest thug shout, “Let’s get out of here.”

It was followed by the sound of retreating feet.

The rushing of the wind eased and it became a light zephyr that seemed to caress me for a while before disappearing back into the plaque.

I fell into a peaceful slumber.

I woke some time later with a hand on my shoulder.

“You alright Miss?”

I looked up at a middle aged policeman standing over me, with his car parked next to where I’d been lying.

“What?” I said, very surprised at his polite tone.

“We had a report of a fight, we saw you lying here, and we wondered if you’d been attacked Miss?”

“Thanks but I think I’m OK now,” I said as I stood up surprised at the lack of pain.

“Well let us give you a lift home then Miss, a pretty thing like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

‘Pretty? Me? I looked at him in surprise then I caught my reflection in their car window. I looked like a copy of my younger sister. How?

I turned and looked at the plaque in front of me and quickly understood.

“Thank you Mollies,” I said quietly as I followed the officer into the police car.

 

---

 

I opened my eyes and looked around my bedroom.

My bed felt warm and comforting.

I looked at the shadows of the world outside moving gently on my ceiling.

I felt really content even though I wasn’t sure why.

The phone rang.

I considered answering then decided I needed at least another ten minutes of comfort.

I turned over on my left side away from the unwanted sound.

My chest wobbled much more than usual.

I moved my right hand and touched my much breasts. I noticed something strange about them.

How could they be so big?

Then I remembered and sat up quickly in bed, causing some more rapid, unplanned and slightly painful movement in the chest area.

Some ten minutes later, after the drama of waking up, I was sitting in at the kitchen/lounge table, well the only table, in the tiny flat. I took another sip of my black coffee and wrapped the over large dressing gown tighter around me.

I went over the events of the previous evening in my mind. There was a sort of sense to most of it but then after the painful confrontation with the trans-phobic gang all I could recall was being in a semi dream like state as the thugs ran away and then being given a lift home by two middle aged policemen. I hazily remembered walking up to the three flights of stairs from the entrance to my flat and feeling relieved to have avoided seeing the warden as I came in.

I strained to remember other details. One thing that really stood out from the encounter with the police was one of them telling me I was ‘pretty’.

“Well let’s see,” I said to myself, finishing my coffee and standing up.

I walked the few steps into the bathroom and turned on the light. The face staring back at me was compellingly familiar. My sister five years ago before she had her kids and put on weight. I stood and looked at this strangeness, thinking that I might have made a mistake and been looking at some video or film. I raised my hand to instinctively brush my longer hair out of my face and of course the image in the mirror copied my actions.

I moved my fingers gently over my face, feeling the unfamiliar contours of my new, cute appearance.

“Cute,” I said to myself, “not a bad thing to be and definitely a lot better than being overweight and lacking in the looks department.”

The scraggly look of my hair annoyed me so I picked up my brush and spent the next few minutes trying to get it into some semblance of order. Finally I prepared myself for the complete inspection of my new body.

“Well here goes nothing,” I exclaimed as I dropped my dressing gown to the floor to stand naked in front of my mirror.

I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth as the full reality of my supernatural transformation was framed in the glass. The overall effect, combined with an attractive face and long ash brown hair, was very pleasing. I moved my hands to hold my boobs. Their size was so alien. I wondered how big they were. Eighteen months of hormones had given me thirty eight A, well not quite A but I always told myself that I had reached that psychologically important measurement. My new breasts seemed much, much bigger, especially because of having what looked like a normal girl’s narrower chest.

I began to pose in different positions to gain a better idea of how I looked from all possible angles. From the position of everything in the bathroom it was clear that my suspicions of having lost quite a bit of height were justified. I looked like I might be between about five foot five and five foot seven.

Suddenly there was an urgent knocking on the door.

The shock of the interruption immobilised me. I stood still and held my breath.

The knocking stopped.

I relaxed and resumed normal breathing. Hoping that whoever was wanting to see me had given up and gone. I picked up my dressing gown and started to make my way back to my bedroom in search of something that might fit me.

My mobile rang.

I picked it up and looked at the caller.

It was Liz.

I was just about to answer the phone when a thought suddenly struck me. How could I tell her what had happened to me since I couldn’t even explain it to myself. I put it down and waited.

The ringing stopped and the display indicated four missed calls from Liz and six text messages. There was also a text from Fiona.

I was about to read them when the banging resumed on the door.

“Mollie, are you OK?” shouted my ex-lover.

I walked towards the door, not knowing what to do.

“Mollie, please I just want to make sure you’re OK, I’m so sorry about last night, please let me. I know you’re there I heard your phone ringing.”

I made a sudden decision and quickly unlatched the door before stepping backing back into the living room, out of view of the entrance.

Liz, looking as beautiful as ever in her self designed outfit, walked briskly into my flat, “You OK hun, sorry to have to leave you in the club......who are you?”

She stood in the corridor and stared at me for a few seconds before gaining her composure, “Who are you? Where’s Mollie?”

There was a silence that persisted for a few seconds before I gained the courage to reply, “I’m Mollie.”

“Oh, I see, you’re Mollie too.”

“No, I’m Mollie, there’s only one of me.”

Liz looked at me in obvious confusion. Then she smiled as the only non-supernatural explanation for the presence of a complete stranger in her friend’s flat came to mind.

“Oh, OK, so Michael must have brought you here, is he here at the moment, I’m a really good friend,” Liz responded using my male name.

“Liz, I’m your Mollie and Michael too.”

Liz stared at me for a few seconds and then her smile disappeared and she began to look a little angry, “Look hun, I don’t know what your game is, or if you’re on it, but I want to know where my friend is and I want to know now!”

I hesitated for a few seconds, thinking whether I should lie and tell Liz that Mollie/Michael had gone out for a while. I dismissed that option almost as immediately as it had crossed my mind. There was no way she was going to buy me leaving a strange woman alone in my flat.

I steeled myself for a lengthy battle to overcome her inevitable scepticism.

“Liz can you sit down please,” I said calmly, “and I’ll explain.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she said warily.

“Please there’s nothing to be alarmed about. Michael, or Mollie as you know her is perfectly safe and is very happy.”

She sat down uneasily on the edge of the armchair. I sat opposite her on the sofa and began to recount the events of the previous evening.

A quarter of an hour later, after a cup of coffee and some chocolate chip biscuits, Liz was still favouring complete disbelief over acceptance.

“The problem with your story, Mollie, or whoever you are is that you could have been told all of it,” she countered to the latest retelling of my account of Halloween in the city centre.

“OK, ask me some questions that there is no way I could have been told the answers to,” I said, feeling increasingly frustrated, “the more intimate the better.”

“Fine. Where and when did we meet?” she asked.

“Cineworld Cardiff, BiCardiff social, Saturday the twentieth of November, three years ago,” I responded confidently.

“Which you could have learned. So what did we do that night?”

“We chatted and had some drinks.”

“What were you wearing?”

“Jeans, t-shirt and I think I was wearing my leather jacket and you were in your favourite hoodie and cargos.”

“When did we first have sex?”

“Two weeks later, in my room in the hall. You wanted to be bottoms all night but I persuaded you to take turns, you weren’t very happy about it though.”

“Oh shit, Mollie I’m beginning to believe you now.” responded Liz as she seemed to drop her hostility to me and relax back in her chair.

It took only a few more questions for Liz to finally accept the truth of my strange transformation. She moved over from the chair and put her arms around me.

“Mollie, I’m so sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have been so selfish. It must have been so horrible for you.”

I kissed her gently on the cheek, “Liz, It’s OK, don’t beat yourself up about this. Look how it’s turned out for me and there are no bruises, not even a scratch. I feel really good, whatever those Mollies did to change me to this they also seemed to have improved my health.”

Liz relaxed and we sat for a few minutes with her head on my shoulder and me caressing her hair. It felt so good to be close to her again.

“Mollie, what are you going to do?” she asked gently.

“What about Liz?”

“Your family, you going to tell them.”

I laughed harshly, “You must be joking, they’ll be the last to know. I’m an evil pervert in the eyes of their church and their beloved Pastor John. Imagine what they’ll think of me when they find out I’m a product of witchcraft, which is what they’ll consider it.”

“Yep, you’ll be lucky if they burn you at the stake,” responded Liz, “what about Uni?”

“Shit what time is it?”

Liz looked at her elegant wristwatch, “Just after ten thirty.”

“Sugar, Liz can you do me a favour. Can you ring in the office, you know the research office and say, I dunno, can you think of an excuse which doesn’t sound as fantastic as what’s happened”

My best friend paused and then smiled, “You ever heard the phrase ‘being economical with the truth’. I’ve got it covered, why don’t you have a shower while I sort out a few things.”

Three hours later I waved goodbye to Liz as she sped away after dropping me outside my block of student flats. I picked up the four larger carrier bags of best quality clothes from her wardrobe. She had assured me that they were things she no longer wore but I had noticed that some of the items still had their shop labels on. I wondered whether she was trying to assuage her guilt.

As I walked, with a little difficulty, up the stairs it struck me that it was lucky that we were more or less the same size now. There was no way I could have afforded even a quarter of the clothes she had donated to me on my studentship salary. The only I thing had needed to buy was some new bras. We had laughed our heads off when we realised that I was now bigger than her even with her implants.

I opened the door and walked into my flat. I gratefully put the bags down in the middle of the room while I went to make myself a coffee. Suddenly my life seemed to be on the up. Liz had got me a couple of weeks off while she had arranged an almost immediate appointment with her private doctor. She had also promised a job modelling for her department if by some unforeseen problem I was unable to continue my research.

I picked the Guardian out of the shopping bags and began to read it as I sipped my black coffee.

Suddenly there was a knock.

I heard a familiar voice, muffled by the door, “Michael we know you’re there, let us in please. Pastor John is here. He wants to help you from the path of evil you’re on.”

It was my Mother!

---

To Be Continued
 

 

---

 

"Hello," I said as I pulled the door open a little way.

My Mother paused in mid-knock and looked at me. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out as she continued to stare at me obviously shocked by my resemblance to my sister.

I opened the door a little more and feigned non-recognition of my angry looking parent and her middle aged corpulent evangelical companion.

"Hello there," said Pastor John, taking the initiative from my dumbstruck Mother.

"Can I help you?" I asked as cooly as possible without obviously giving offence.

"We're here to see Michael," said the smarmy pastor.

"Who are you then?" I asked, maintaining my frosty tone.

At last Mother found her voice, "I'm his mother and this is his pastor, who are you young lady and what are you doing in his flat?"

I hesitated for a moment, trying to think of a suitable explanation and then inspiration came, "Oh in that case you'd better come in, I'm ..Mollie, his girlfriend."

There was stunned silence as they followed me into the sitting area. I realised I needed to maintain the advantage of surprise so I waved my hand in the direction of the bags of clothes, "Sorry about the mess, I've just brought over my clothes from where I was staying before."

Mother and Pastor John sat down opposite me still obviously completely floored by this unexpected development. Their bisexual transsexual child apparently returned to the path of church sanctioned 'normality'

"You mean you're Michael's girlfriend?" squeaked Mother at last.

I smiled back at her as neutrally as possible to hide my feelings of nausea at being in their bigoted presence, "I did say that didn't I?"

"But I don't understand, he said he was sinning against nature, how can he have a girlfriend?" asked Mother.

"Sorry? What did you say? I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about?”

They looked at each other in surprise and then Pastor John attempted an explanation, “Well..what Mrs Thomas meant was we are concerned about....well you could call it his lifestyle choices.”

I paused for a few seconds with my reply. It was a bit of a shock, after everything else, to be confronted with their ignorance and bigotry. I fought to suppress my anger and my desire to scream at them to get out of my flat. I took a slow deep breath and then responded in a measured tone, “I hope you’re not implying there is something wrong with my being his girlfriend.”

The pair exchanged glances before my Mother replied, “No, no, not at all, although since we know nothing about you. Since Michael has never mentioned you, well..I don’t really know what to think.”

“I guess you’ll have to talk to him about it then,” I said trying to avoid any further discussion, “would you like a coffee or something. I'm not sure when he’ll be back."

"Thank you Mollie," responded Pastor John as he very obviously stared at my breasts, " A coffee would be lovely."

Mother nodded her agreement and I gratefully escaped the unpleasant company to busy myself in the kitchen area. As I prepared the drinks, making sure I made my own cup with a double dose of coffee granules, I heard the other two whispering, unfortunately loud enough for me to make out everything they were saying.

"I can't get over how much she looks like Michael's sister," whispered my Mother.

"I can't see it myself, but at least it means your son is no longer on his sinful path of deviation," replied the leering churchman.

"But if they're living together there's still the issue of unwed familiarity,"

Their conversation ceased as I turned and walked over with the drinks.

There was an uncomfortable silence between us as we all sipped. After a few minutes I asked, "Shall I phone Michael, he didn't tell me you were coming?"

"It's OK, dear, it was supposed to be a surprise," responded Mother with a cold smile, "we'll wait."

There was a silence as the three of us took sips from our drinks.

"So tell us a little about yourself Mollie," said my Mother.

I hesitated before replying, "Umm, what would you like to know?"

She stared at me strangely, "Well the usual I expect, where are you from, when did you meet Michael and are you a chaste person."

I thought for a second or two, "It isn't really any of your business whether I am chaste or not but as it happens Michael and myself have no intention of having a physical relationship at the moment."

I paused for the words I had chosen carefully to be misinterpreted by the religious pair. There was a noticeable relaxation in their attitude as I apparently conformed to another one of their tests of acceptance. I then continued with a genuine sounding background based on one of my friends from the Way Out Club.

After about ten minutes of fabricating a hopefully consistent history I became tired of the increasingly probing questions and excused myself to hang up my newly acquired wardrobe.

As I carefully emptied the bags and put Liz’s designer clothes away I considered my options. I really wanted to try on some of my new outfits and see how they complemented my new completely female body. I also needed to have a long discussion with Liz about how I was going to somehow explain these drastic changes to my employers. More immediately I wanted to get rid of the obnoxious pair sitting on my sofa.

Suddenly I had an idea. I dialled Liz’s number.

"Hi Mollie, what’s up I’m a little busy now"

"Liz I’ve got a little problem, can you send me a text in ten minutes"

"What’s happened"

"Don’t worry I can sort it out and I’ll tell you later, I just need to receive a text in a few minutes"

"You sure you’re OK?"

"I’m fine, just send me the text, OK?"

"OK, talk later, kisses."

I disconnected, smoothed down my skirt, adjusted my bra and my tank, gave my hair a quick brush and then ventured back into the living room and the unpleasant company there.

Fifteen minutes later with the conversation lagging, as I feigned interest in my formerly estranged sister and her family, I had all but given up hope of rescue from my mental torment when at last the brief Marimba phrase sounded from my iPhone. I excused myself and checked the message.

'Sorry Moll, got held up, ring me xx'

I took my time looking at the phone, trying to give the impression that the message was longer and more detailed than the reality.

I looked up and tried to effect a little concern in my voice, "Sorry, that was Michael, I've got to go, he's got a problem at the lab."

"We'll come with you then?" said Pastor John, enquiringly.

"I'm so sorry, it's a restricted facility, you won't be able to go in." I responded firmly.

"In that case we'll be happy to wait here until you come back," countered my Mother.

"I really don't know how long we'll be, I'm so sorry, but we could be there till late or even all night. He told me this morning that there could be a problem with his latest experiment," I responded as forcefully as possible.

Pastor John looked at Mother who shook her head before replying, "Listen, Mollie we are very keen to see my son today, so if it's all the same to you we'd like to wait as long as it takes."

I felt a little bile in my throat as I realised my careful plan, to rid myself of the unwanted ‘pleasure’ of my Mother's company, was rapidly unravelling. I searched in my mind for a way round my dilemma. There was only one other option. I would have to kick them out now, as politely as possible.

I stood up to add a little emphasis to what I needed to say, "I am really sorry but I will have to insist on you leaving. The college authorities are very insistent on tenants supervising any visitors to their flats, in fact it's a condition of staying here. So if you don't mind, I have to change and go to see Michael as soon as possible."

I quickly walked over to the door and opened it and then continued, "I'll tell him you called and get him to phone you, he does have your number, doesn't he?"

Mother and Pastor John reluctantly got up from the sofa and made their way towards me.

"If you could find me a piece of paper," said Mother pausing by the door, "I'll write it down, in case he's forgotten, it's been such a long time, he never seems to make much effort about contact."

I fumed at my Mother’s distortion of the reality of our estrangement as I handed her an old envelope from the shelf by the front door along with a pen. She scribbled down the number I knew only too well before shoving it back in my hand. After one final exhortation for me to remind her son to contact her they left the flat and made their way down the stairs.

I watched them until they disappeared from sight and then closed the door. I stood with my hand resting on the door, for a few moments, breathing slowly to release the tension. Then I turned and made my way back into the living area and flopped on the sofa. The painful bouncing of my new breasts, as I fell back on the cushions, reminded me of the drastic nature of the changes to my body and the need to change some of my basic habits.

I lay there for for a few minutes thinking about the last time I’d seen my Mother, when she’d more or less told me never to darken their door ever again. I smiled thinking about the effectiveness of my deception. If she and her religious zealot companion knew about the source of my physical changes they wouldn’t just be accusing me of sinful lifestyle choices they’d be collecting the wooden faggots and piling them in the village square.

I shivered at the distasteful image and sat up having resolved a course of action.

Fifteen minutes later I reached the entrance to Warren Street underground station. I’d quickly grabbed a shoulder bag, put on one of Liz’s leather jackets and left my flat not wanting to stay there a moment longer in case my unpleasant guests returned.

It had been such a sense of freedom to start walking down the street as a woman without worrying about passing, or as more often in my previous body, not passing. I’d noticed some fellow pedestrians looking at me longer than necessary while passing, which I’d found disconcerting. But at least the glances were no longer thinly disguised disgust.

I stepped into the station, grateful for the relief from the keen Autumn wind, and took out my phone. Liz answered after three rings.

"So what was that about?" she asked.

I quickly explained about the visit.

"Are you OK now?"

"I’m fine but can we meet I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened."

"Well, I’m a bit tied up, you know with the new collection and...."

I interrupted her, "Listen, Liz, what if I change back?"

There was a pause for a few seconds.

"Are you still there?" I asked.

"Oh my god, I never considered that, OK Moll, I’ll be there as soon as I can, where’ll you be in about an hour?"

"How about M and S, the café?"

"OK, see you there."

I replaced the phone in my bag, bought a ticket and walked down to the Victoria Line southbound platform. As usual it was busy even though it was still early in the afternoon, hours before the manic rush hour. A train came in five minutes and I managed to get one of the last seats for the short journey to Oxford Circus.

I looked around the carriage. It was the usual mixture of young and old, tourist and resident, male and female. I noticed an attractive young man, standing by the doors, looking at me. I caught his gaze and he averted his eyes. I felt somehow flattered by the interest, a strange, unsettling but pleasant feeling.

The slight smile that appeared on my lips was wiped away a second later as I noticed another much older man, who was sitting opposite me, almost drooling at the mouth as he stared at my breasts.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, stood up and manoeuvred through the crowded space towards the door so that I could turn my back towards him. Even then I imagined his eyes boring into me, exposing my body for his distasteful pleasures.

Less than a minute later I was grateful when the train slowed as it reached Oxford Circus. The doors opened and I was swept out with the exiting throng. I resisted the temptation for a final view of my elderly ‘admirer’ and walked straight ahead along platform and then up the escalators.

Ten minutes later I was sitting down in the cafe with a steaming, luxury hot chocolate warming my cold hands.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse since I’d left the flat and the walk from the tube station had been in the face of a cold easterly wind. It looked like it was going to rain later and I now regretted not having brought a coat with me. I’d decided to treat myself before doing a bit of shopping while I waited for Liz.

As I took my first sips of the sweet, hot, reviving liquid I took out my phone. I’d heard the alert on Oxford Street but hadn’t wanted to stop to read it while I was walking.

I read the message from Fiona, thanking me for my earlier text when I’d reassured her of my safety. She also reminded me of our ‘date’ later on.

I considered whether to continue with the arrangement. On the one hand I really wanted to see her again. On the other hand I wondered whether she would really be as accepting about my changes as Liz had.

After a couple of minutes of indecision, I typed my reply.

‘See you later, Fiona, please don’t be surprised by how I look xx’

When I’d finished I put my phone in my bag, muttering, “In for a penny.”

“Sorry were you talking to me?” asked an unfamiliar voice.

I looked up to see a very attractive man sitting on the armchair opposite to mine. He looked like he was in his late twenties and was wearing an extremely smart expensive looking suit.

“I’m so sorry, just talking to myself, first sign of madness and all that,” I explained.

He smiled before responding, “I’ve heard people say that but they’re wrong in every way.”

“How?” I responded feeling intrigued by his definite opinion.

“It’s actually a sign of someone being self aware and seeking insight into their actions. A proof of humanity if you like,” the stranger explained, leaning forwards in his chair.

I sipped a little more of my chocolate while I considered how to reply.

“Well, thanks, it’s nice to be told something good about myself.”

“You’re welcome, I’m Phil by the way,” he said, holding out his hand.

I touched his hand briefly with my own, “Mollie.”

He smiled again before continuing in his confident masculine voice, “An unusual name and from your accent I bet you’re not from London.”

I was beginning to feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching car. This unexpected attention was very disconcerting while at the same time strangely pleasurable. I felt parts of my body beginning to respond to the close presence of this handsome man.

“I’m from Wales,” I replied, a little timidly, “and you?”

“A native of the big city. North London, do you know Haringey?”

I nodded.

“I was brought up in a place called Crouch End. We used to go on holiday in Wales quite often, where are you from?”

I explained about coming from Cardiff and we talked about parts of Wales we’d both visited. Phil told me he was a senior civil servant at the Department of Culture. He was very surprised when I told him I was a PhD student in experimental and theoretical particle physics.

I was enjoying our conversation so much that I almost jumped out of my seat at the sound of a text message. I glanced at my phone and read Liz’s message.

‘Leaving now c u in 15 xx’

“I’m sorry Phil, I’ve got to go now,” I said regretfully, “that was my friend, I’m meeting her in a few minutes.”

I felt his hand gently touch my arm. It made me feel tingly inside.

“I’m sorry too, Mollie. I’d really like to see you again. Perhaps you’d let me take you out to dinner?”

I surprised myself with my answer, “Yes, I’d really like that.”

He took my number and promised to ring me later. I walked away with my head in the clouds after a final touch of hands in farewell.

Five minutes later still in a semi dreamlike state I put my collection of new bras on the counter of the checkout.

The assistant rang up my purchases and I handed over my debit card.

She looked at the card and checked before looking back at me.

“I’m sorry Miss, you don’t look much like a Michael”

I felt like the ground was opening up underneath me. I was snapped back into reality but was too stunned to do or say anything.

For what seemed an age, but was only a few seconds, I stood and stared back at her. She moved her head slightly and nodded.

The next thing I felt was a firm hand on my shoulder and an assertive voice saying, “Excuse me Miss would you mind accompanying me to the Manager’s office.”

---

To Be Continued
 

 

---

 

I turned round to see a tall, well built man standing behind me with his hand firmly on my shoulder. I noticed his store security badge and felt the authority in his voice as he spoke again, "If you could follow me now Miss I'm sure we can sort this out quickly."

He picked up the packet of bras from the counter and turned to walk away. I felt the pressure of his hand pushing me away from the queue. I looked round in the vain hope of rescue from my predicament. The eyes of the customers standing behind me were rapidly averted as I scanned their faces, hoping for a sympathetic glance.

How was I going to explain the situation, how was I going to account for my lack of an identity. The euphoria of the morning, already dented by the visit of my Mother and her bigoted Pastor, had by now completely evaporated. The only thing I could think about was the probability of being carted off to a police cell and maybe a secure psychiatric ward when I tried to explain what had happened.

With my head down I took a step in the direction indicated by the store detective. My dejection somehow reminded me of meeting the old woman in the street outside the Way Out Club the previous night. I remembered her words I'd heard which had come to my aid when I was attacked.

‘If you need help tonight ask the Mollies'

"If only you could help me now Mollies" I whispered to myself.

Suddenly I felt a zephyr like breeze brush my face and hair. At the same time a warm feeling suffused my body. I felt imbued with a new resolve. I stood up straight and turned round to face the shop employee trying to move me towards the manager's office. I lifted his hand off my shoulder with a strength I didn't know I possessed.

He looked at me in astonishment, apparently powerless to resist.

"If you would excuse me I would like to complete this purchase," I said firmly.

He looked at me for a few seconds, taken aback by my new confidence before replying in a placatory tone, "Of course Miss, we will be happy to assist you as soon as possible. We just need to confirm your identity, since it is clearly not your own credit card."

"I suppose it hasn't crossed your mind that I might have a boyfriend?" I countered sarcastically, "who might have given me his card to use."

"Of course Miss, as I said, we just need to confirm your identity, we are not implying you have done anything wrong. I'd be grateful if you could follow me to Mr Raptor's office he will sort you...this out to everyone's satisfaction."

I hesitated, torn between cutting my losses and making a quick escape from what could be a difficult interview or trying to bluff my way out of the situation.

Before I could decide what to do I felt an arm around my shoulder and heard a familiar, attractive voice, "Ah there you are darling, sorry I'm late."

I turned around to see the smiling face of Phil. He winked at me. I returned the smile and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "No problem darling, I just seem to have a little bother here."

His eyes widened in response to my gesture of affection, "What's the problem, Mollie?"

"The shop doesn't want to let me use your credit card, Michael," I replied, speaking louder than necessary, emphasising the name on the card and winking.

Phil turned to the security guard, "Why is this a problem?"

The poor store official looked completely nonplussed by our little piece of theatre. He blinked a few times as he tried to come to terms with the completely unexpected turn of events.

"Um..um.. well it seems we have made a mistake here. I'm so sorry Miss," he said while he handed the card and the packet of bras to Phil.

"Was this what you wanted, darling?"

I nodded and Phil quickly handed the packet to the assistant along with two twenty pound notes. Within seconds she had rung up the sale, bagged the bras with the invoice and we were walking confidently away while she served the next customer.

"Thank you so much," I whispered.

Phil put his arm around my shoulder, "Keep smiling and don't say anything else until we're out of the shop, that security guard is still suspicious."

Every step through the busy store was filled with anxiety as I kept expecting a shop employee to stop us.

Finally after what seemed like minutes, but was in reality less than thirty seconds, we reached the pavement outside.

Phil removed his arm from my shoulder and turned to me, “Are you OK Mollie?”

I looked at him and nodded, too shocked speak. I began to shiver.

“Come on,” he said, touching my forearm gently, “let me buy you a drink and you can tell me what that was all about.”

I followed him towards the Dog and Duck. It was, not surprisingly given the time of day, crowded with a mixture of tourists and central London office workers. We were in luck as a elderly Japanese couple were leaving a small nearby table as we walked in. Phil went to get some drinks while I sat down and tried to make sense of the latest craziness in my day.

My phone buzzed. It was Liz! I’d forgotten about our meeting. I took out my phone and read her message.

‘In cafe, where are you?’

I considered my response. Would Liz’s presence make everything more complicated. I hesitated before deciding that whatever I told Phil as an explanation would be more believable with Liz there to corroborate.

‘In the Dog and Duck, problem in shop, come join us’

Her reply was almost instant.

‘Who’s us?’

‘A very fit guy :-)’

I smiled as I switched my phone to silent. I knew my last text would motivate Liz to join me.

“Nice to see you smiling. You feeling better now?”

I looked up to see Phil setting two small spirit glasses down on our table.

“Yes, thanks, what’s this?” I asked, not being a regular alcohol drinker.

“Double whisky, sip it slowly, it’ll help you relax.”

I raised the glass to my lips and let a little of the amber liquid to enter my mouth. The initial burning sensation was brief and then I felt the soothing effects as the alcohol entered my system. I sat back in my chair feeling the tension in my body evaporating. There was silence between us for a few seconds and then I became aware of Phil staring at me with a smile on his face.

I smiled back, "I suppose I owe you an explanation."

"I think you may do, although I must admit I enjoyed my role in that little drama."

I stared at him blankly, "What role?"

Phil smiled broadly at me before replying, "Well as your boyfriend of course.”

“Um..yes..I suppose...you..,” I spluttered, feeling my face colouring in my embarrassment.

“Don’t worry Mollie, I’m not presuming anything, it was a bit of fun, but maybe I can take you out later for that dinner I promised earlier?”

I hesitated to answer. On the one hand I couldn’t hide my obvious attraction to him while I was so confused at the strangeness of everything. The idea of going out with a man was so out of my comfort zone but it was a beguiling prospect.

I looked at him, his warm handsome face, tender concern in his eyes. My mind was in a turmoil.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“I’d love to,” I said, quietly.

“You’d love to...?”

“Go out....with you, but I can’t today, sorry, but tomorrow?”

A broad smile spread across his face, “That’s great, and maybe we could go to a club later, you like clubbing?”

“Love it, what sort of clubs do you go to?”

We chatted for a few minutes about our interests in music and clubs we’d visited in London. I relaxed in Phil’s easy company and enjoyed being with someone who found me attractive for once rather than showing the usual looks of distaste. I felt my resolve weakening as I looked at the handsome man sitting next to me. Did I really want to lose my new friendship and maybe something more so quickly?

“Penny for them?”

“What?”

“You seemed a million miles away there?” Phil explained.

I smiled and took a deep breath. I had no choice, I had to find out what had happened to me and I couldn’t create even more complications in my life by creating a whole false female upbringing.

“Sorry I was thinking how to explain today to you,” I said, before pausing to consider how to start the story.

“Don’t worry I’ve already guessed it’s your boyfriend’s card, or maybe your ex’s?” Phil suggested, hopefully.

I laughed, “If only it were that simple......do you believe in magic?”

Phil spluttered and coughed as my question obviously took him by surprise and a little of his whisky went down the wrong way. I gave him a few gentle taps on his back to ease his coughing.

He took out his handkerchief to wipe his mouth, “Sorry but excuse me for saying, that’s an unexpected question. Didn’t you say you’re doing a PhD in physics? Is magic some new particle? Sorry my science is GCSE only.”

“Magic, as in witches, body transformations and stuff like that.”

There was a pause as he obviously began to wonder whether he’d made a mistake in assuming my complete sanity. He hesitated for a few seconds while he considered his response.

“OK, well as I said before I work for the Department of Culture and, as it happens in the folklore department, so I’ve read and collated a lot of the old stories,”

He paused.

I leant forward and lightly put my hand on his arm, “But do you think there’s anything in it. Is there such a thing as real magic, you know like transforming someone into a different shape?”

“I don’t really think it’s possible, but who knows, I’m open minded and it would be arrogant to think we understand everything about nature,” he responded.

I relaxed a little but was immediately tense again as he continued, “Why do you ask?”

I moved my hand away, sat back in my chair and considered how to explain what had happened to me.

“Is something wrong Mollie?”

“Listen Phil I need to tell you something but you’re going to find it very strange so I’d like to wait for my best friend to come, OK?”

“OK”

There was silence between us a for a couple of minutes as we sipped our drinks.

Phil looked at his watch, “Will she be long, I need to get back to work soon.”

“Hey Mollie,” said Liz as she walked towards our table.

I pulled up a chair and made the introductions. Liz was looking particularly glamorous and I could see that Phil was attracted.

He graciously offered to fetch her a drink and went to the bar for her Campari and soda.

After he’d left I moved my chair close to Liz’s and spoke quietly to her, “Listen, I need to tell Phil what happened, I think he might be able to help and I......”

Liz smiled, held my hands and looked me in the eye, “You fancy him, don’t you?”

“I think I do but........”

“But what? Why do you have to tell him. You’re a woman now in all possible ways, what’s wrong with being attracted to a fit man.”

“But, Liz what if I’m not tomorrow?”

“Ohmigod....”

“What’s happening tomorrow, Mollie?” asked Phil.

We turned around to see him standing at our table with Liz’s drink.

I gestured to Phil to sit down, “I wish I know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I can tell you about yesterday and Liz will back me up.”

“OK, I’m listening,” he said, after he’d sat down.

I hesitated trying to think of the best way to start explain my fantastic tale, in the end I just plunged straight in, “I looked very different yesterday.”

“This is starting to feel like Jerry Springer, I suppose you’re going to say you used to be a man,” Phil commented a little sarcastically as he took another swig of his whisky.

“Yes.”

He swallowed the wrong way and started to cough again.

---

To Be Continued