The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 0

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn Tradition has it that the magi took twelve days to find the Christ child after the new star first appeared at the time of the child’s birth. This is a magical time, which ends the day before Epiphany. Unlike the eighteenth-century English Christmas carol which details an increasing number of gifts with the twelve days of Christmas, Karl’s gifts do not increase in number daily. Instead, their cumulative effect has a profound impact on his life view.

Sunday Dec 25, Day 0

Snuggling deep into my warm bed, I look out my second-floor window to see fresh snow on the barren branches of the Maple tree outside my window.

Well, Karl, I say to myself, it looks like a magical white Christmas after all. I remember hearing that new snow on Christmas day has magical properties. I sigh thinking that magic could never grant my greatest wish.

I burrow a little deeper under the comforter remembering Christmases past while trying to not feel melancholy. In many ways, I miss the carefree days of my youth when I would enjoy being indulged by loving parents. I remember, fondly, finding a treat filled red stocking from Santa at the foot of my bed each Christmas morning. I was given strict instructions from my parents each Christmas Eve to enjoy the wonders of the stocking without waking them up too early.

I fondly remember sneaking to the top of the stairs to get a glimpse of what other wonders Santa had left behind. I’d have to go down a few steps to peek into the living room where the Christmas tree was. I still recall my excitement one year, as a young child, to see a shiny new bicycle by the tree. Other years brought other exciting gifts.

As an only child, my parents lavished me with more gifts than they probably should have.

I never complained!

I fondly recall how my father was always there for me throughout my life while he attempted to raise me in his own image. Being the majority owner and co-founder of the engineering firm that he had built from the ground up, he had visions of me joining him in the business and made sure that I was groomed for that position. I would spend my summers and occasional holidays hanging around his firm as it grew into the going concern that it is today. I loved every minute of it.

Regardless of my father's attention, my mother was my real strength. She guided me in so many ways to become a man worthy of respect. She taught me, with support from my father, about honesty and integrity. She also taught me the practical skills that I would need when I would eventually leave home.

We were a very closely knit family and how I miss them! If the magic of Christmas snow were real, I’d ask to have them magically restored to life.

With a sigh, tears come to my eyes knowing that all the Christmas traditions of my youth are forever in my past.

When I graduated from high school seven years ago I left home for college to become an engineer like my father. After completing my degrees, we agreed that I should go into the world to gain experience and possibly bring that back to enrich my father’s firm at some point. So, with my new degree in hand, I had gone on to start my own engineering career in a big city, working for a major international engineering firm. The work was exciting but involved long hours and little time for my personal life. I was able to get time off to come home once or twice a year, especially for the Christmas holiday. At home, the gifts changed, but the love and anticipation had never left.

That all came to an end last New Years when my parents died. Their car was annihilated by a drunk driver on their way home from a party. The police and paramedics told me that they, and the other driver, probably died instantly. My world turned completely upside down when I got the news from an appropriately compassionate police officer at six in the morning, not long after returning home from a party myself.

My parents left me financially very well off and now the majority owner of his engineering firm, so I quit my high-pressure big city job and moved back to my hometown. I don’t have quite enough time in practice to sit for my professional engineering licensing exam, so I find myself owning majority interest in my father’s prosperous firm but working under the technical direction of his senior engineer and minority partner, Jim Sanderson. An odd arrangement at best.

Because of the loss of my parents, this is my first Christmas alone.

Most of the last year, after moving back into my childhood home, has been spent settling their affairs and considering my future involvement in my father’s firm. I ended up working part time for the first six months of the year while I emptied out the house of most of my parent's personal possessions. All their clothes and other personal items were quickly disposed of. I sold my mom’s jewelry, dad’s watch collection, and most of the artwork. I decided to keep the house, but I cleaned out closets filled with stuff/junk that had accumulated over the decades that my parents had lived here. I even cleaned out the garage of my old, long unused, Christmas toys from years past. With the help of old friends, I had a huge garage/estate sale last summer and managed to get rid of most everything that I did not need or want. The rest went either to charity or the landfill.

As I lay snuggled under the warm comforter in my childhood room, I wish with all my heart that the past year could have played out differently. I would give anything to hear my mother rustling around in the kitchen preparing a holiday dinner for us and the friends that we’d often invite to join us.

Knowing that sleep is not going to return, I climb out of bed and begin my day. After shaving, showering and dressing, I head downstairs to find a small beautifully decorated Christmas tree in the living room, right where we normally placed one each year. The tree decorations are the same ones that we used to use every year. What is odd is that the tree had not been there when I went to bed last night. Under the tree was a single small, nicely wrapped box sitting on top of a Christmas card.

I am bewildered. How could I have slept through someone moving about decorating a Christmas tree? I am sure I would have heard someone hauling in the decorations from where they are stored in the garage. Also, it always took the three of us an hour or more to setup and decorate the tree, then clean up all the resulting mess. Someone had to have spent hours here last night.

Going to the front window, I gaze out at least a foot of new snow, with more coming down. There is no sign of tracks in the snow on the front walk or driveway. Besides thinking that I have some snow shoveling to do, I figure that my secret Santa either came down the chimney or at least came before the snow got very deep. I check the locks on the door, and they are all secure. I can’t think of anyone who would have a key to the house. There is one man door to the garage that has a keypad, but I recently changed the code and haven’t given the code to anyone.

How did Santa get in?

Curiosity gets the better of me, so I pick up the package and sit on the couch. Opening the card, I read:

Dearest Karl,

How we miss you! Please know that all is well with your father and me, but we both wish that we could have had more time with you. Someday, we will be back together again. In the meantime, you still have much left to do.

Being the technical whiz that you are, there is one aspect of life that you have neglected for far too long as you have immersed yourself in your work. It is important that you develop a meaningful relationship that will bring you the happiness that our marriage has brought to your father and me. Your greatest joy will be found in a loving relationship and the children that it will bring. Forming such a relationship is very important for your, and others, future.

We know that the semester you lived with Judy in college ended badly, but there is someone out there for you. However, there are some changes that will need to be made for you to find your soul mate.

Tomorrow is the first of the twelve days of Christmas. Each of those days, you will experience change that will prepare you to find your one true love. The changes may seem strange each day, but all will come into focus on the day of Epiphany.

Love Forever, Mom

P.S. I strongly recommend that you take a selfie every one of the twelve days of Christmas.

With tears in my eyes, I set the letter down on the end table, I wonder who is playing this cruel joke on me. I also think back on all the times that my mother encouraged me to break out of my techno bubble and look at the world around me. She once told me of the challenge it had been for her to do the same for my father. This card is so very typical of things my mother would say to me.

I admit that I haven’t taken time in the last year to do more than settle my parents’ affairs, prepare for my professional licensing exam, and try to learn how to manage a midsized engineering firm. There have been a few women in the office who have tried to gain my attention but none of them have managed to break through. I just haven’t had the time, or inclination, for a relationship at this point in my career development.

I pick up the package and turn it over in my hands. I give it a soft shake and am rewarded with a small rattle. Opening the box, I find my mother’s favorite necklace. I know that the necklace was sold months ago along with the rest of her jewelry. I distinctly remember the jeweler who purchased the whole collection as one lot. He had asked if I wanted to keep a piece for memories sake. I had the declined but if I had chosen a piece, it would have been this necklace. The blue Topaz gem seems to glow softly.

Lifting the pendant necklace gently out of the box, I hold it up to the morning light coming through the window. I am mesmerized by how it glows and sparkles in the sunlight. As I watch it, the thought enters my mind that I should put it on.

What a strange thought!

But why not? So, I fiddle with the clasp and hang the jewelry around my neck.

Now, I’m not a big guy (5’ 10” and a bit on the pudgy side) but a chain longer than 18” would probably be more appropriate for me. The chain is not tight, but it doesn’t really hang much either.

I get up to look in the entry way mirror and decide that it doesn’t look too bad. It would look better if I were a woman but what the heck. I know guys who wear gold chains and other jewelry, so I decide to leave it on for now. Remembering mom’s advice, I take a selfie.

With a shrug, I get on with my quiet morning. After fixing a simple breakfast of cereal and toast, I pull on my winter boots and coat before heading out to do some snow shoveling. I end up doing not only my own driveway and walks, but those of two neighbors that I know will struggle with the chore. It is nice to spread the Christmas cheer.

----<0>----

Later in the afternoon, I head over to the home of my best friend from high school bearing my contribution to the holiday dinner. Jake was a pretty popular guy in high school and ended up going to Law school. He now works for a local corporate law firm which works him to death. His wife, Sarah who had been Jake's high school sweetheart, earned a degree in Finance and works for a local branch of a major investment firm. Jim and Sarah married just after finishing their bachelor’s degrees. No children yet, but I know that they are planning to start soon.

“That’s a beautiful necklace,” Sarah observes when I take my coat off. “I love Topaz and that is quite the specimen.”

Blushing, it seems that I have forgotten that I am wearing the necklace. “It was my mother’s. I found it under the Christmas tree this morning.”

“Dude,” Jake asks with a raised eyebrow, “I thought that you were going to skip the tree this year.”

“That’s the weird thing,” I reply, “I did. When I went downstairs this morning, the tree was there, and all lit up with a single gift and card under it. The necklace was in the package and the card was, this is really weird, from my mother.”

“Why are you wearing the necklace?”, asks Sarah.

“I am not sure,” I reply with a frown, “The idea to do so just entered my mind, so I did. Frankly, I forgot that I had it on. I probably should take it off.”

As I reach around to find the clasp, Sarah says, “Don’t Karl, it actually looks good on you. Plus, I think that Joanna will love it.”

I roll my eyes, “Don’t tell me you invited HER too?”

Sarah frowned at me, “Jake invited his best single friend. I get to invite one of mine. Joanna is a wonderful woman, you could do worse than dating her.”

Joanna and I have never really liked each other. She is a very aggressive person, also an attorney (specializing in divorce), and has always seems to get under my skin in a bad way. She is a very attractive woman, but her aggressive behavior really puts guys off.

“Actually,” I snort, “she is a man hater.”

Wisely, I notice that Jake is staying out of this conversation.

“No, she’s not,” Sarah dismisses my accusation. “She just gets tired of the misogynist jerks that make life difficult for us women. She just hasn’t figured out yet that you are not as bad as most men.”

Now there’s a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one!

Joanna joined us about fifteen minutes later. Throughout the evening Joanna kept giving me strange looks, probably because of the necklace but she didn’t say anything. Sarah must have asked her to keep the negativity down. The dinner and evening turned out to be relatively pleasant.

As I was leaving, Jake asked if we were still on for a Bowl Bash at my house a week from tomorrow, Monday, January 2nd. My parents’ house has a huge big screen TV with surround sound in the family room and a slightly smaller version in the Living Room, so we can have two games on at once. There are four bowl games scheduled for the second. We had planned to get a few guys together for an all-day football bowl game binge with pizza and beer.

“Hey,” Sarah asks indignantly, “Is this a guys only event or can women come too?”

Joanna gives me the evil eye. You can almost see her mind working up some retort about a misogynistic gathering of men. She seems to ignore the fact that women frequently have misandry girl’s nights out without the guys.

“If you want to come Sarah,” I diplomatically reply, “we’d enjoy your company.”

“What about me?” challenged Joanna.

“If you can stand the company of a bunch of rowdy, and likely drunk, guys,” I shrug, “you are welcome to join us.” Man, I hope that she doesn’t take up the challenge! She could be a real damper on the day.

----<0>----

I am very tired when I get back to my lonely home late that evening. After trying unsuccessfully to work the clasp on the necklace in my exhausted state, I decide to just leave it on for the night as I fall into bed.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 1

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I am very tired when I get back to my lonely home late that evening. After trying unsuccessfully to work the clasp on the necklace in my exhausted state, I decide to just leave it on for the night as I fall into bed.

Monday Dec 26, Day 1

The alarm seems a bit harsh this morning, but I need to get moving because of an early morning meeting at work.

I still sleep in my childhood room, having not yet moved into the master bedroom with its en suite bathroom. It is probably irrational, but to me the master bedroom still seems like my parent's space and I am not ready, emotionally, to make that move yet. Consequently, when I roll out of bed I have to stumble across the hall to find a bathroom. While relieving myself, I wake up enough to notice a couple of large plastic bottles on the counter with a note lying beside them.

Good morning, Karl,

We know that you have started to let your hair grow out a little. In today’s world that is just fine. Remember that appearances matter so you must take care of your hair. Make sure to get a trim when it starts to get unruly. Go see Caroline at the salon. She will know what to do. We are not there anymore to remind you to look presentable so please pay attention to yourself. I suggest that you use this shampoo and conditioner to help your hair have a more professional look.

Your father says not to let the Mayor push you around in your meeting this morning. If he gets too pushy, ask him why Miss Weaver (his former secretary) had to leave town in such a hurry. That should give him pause.

Love, Mom & Dad.

P.S. you can leave the necklace on under your shirt. Your shirt and tie will hide it. And don’t forget to take a selfie.

This is getting seriously weird! I run downstairs and check the doors again. They are all securely locked. I wonder if I should get the locks changed?

Looking at the clock, I see that I am in a serious time crunch and need to get moving.

Returning to the bathroom, I prepare for my daily shave but find that there is no need. For the first time since I was sixteen I don't need to shave this morning because my cheeks are as smooth as a baby's bottom.

There is nothing to shave.

My shaving supplies are also gone. No razor, no shaving cream, no aftershave.

I don’t have time to dwell on the theft of my supplies or wonder why I don’t need to shave today. Instead, I hop in the shower to get ready for the day. I do use the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner that arrived this morning. I don’t have any other choice!

Dressing in slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie, I take a quick selfie before heading off for the office. Breakfast is taken care of with a quick stop by our local drive-up coffee stand where I snag a sweet roll along with my morning coffee.

----<0>----

I am usually one of the first people in the office in the morning, but today I am about half an hour late and find our senior administrative assistant/business manager at the receptionist’s desk. Much of the staff is on vacation this week, so those of us still around are filling in where needed.

“Good morning Mr. Bronson, I am glad to see that you made it here this morning.” Celeste cheerfully greets me. “Mr. Sanderson would like to see you before the meeting with the Mayor and the Director of Public Works.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” I reply. “I hope that you had a nice Christmas.” We’re a moderately sized general civil engineering firm of around 40 employees. We are small enough that most of the staff are friendly and less formal in their interactions. I have tried to get Celeste to call me by my first name, but to no avail as she believes in propriety. Having been with the firm since its beginnings almost 20 years ago, Celeste is the grease that keeps things moving smoothly. She knows everything and everyone. Next to Jim, the minority and current managing partner, Celeste is the most irreplaceable person in the organization.

It is quiet in the office today with most of the staff gone to visit extended family or to hit the after Christmas sales. Not a lot of progress will be accomplished this week. Unfortunately, I need to be here as we wrap up a project for the city, hence the meeting with the Mayor and the Director of Public works.

As my morning note predicted, the Mayor is difficult during our meeting. I manage to slip in the suggested question, and he becomes a lot more reasonable, obviously uncomfortable that I might know one of his little dark secrets. In addition to closing out our current project with the City, we discuss upcoming work and they tentatively agree to two more rather lucrative projects for the coming year.

My partner, Jim, and I had a working lunch with a couple of our department heads to map out a strategy for fulfilling the new contracts and to refine our final proposals for several others. Business is looking good for the coming year.

Even though I am the majority owner of the firm, I am also one of the junior engineers. For all intents and purposes, Jim runs the firm as the managing partner. We agreed that I need a few more years in the trenches before I will be ready to take an active leadership role. Even then, Jim will always be senior in my view as his many years of experience almost demand it. It is an odd arrangement but, as majority owner, I also need to be in on major business decisions and when contracts are signed even though I am still legally only an engineer-in-training.

I spend the rest of the afternoon working with a team on the design of a new water treatment plant for a nearby city. At the end of the day, I leave for home feeling somewhat accomplished. As is commonly my practice, I also take home a couple of hours’ worth of work to keep me busy for the evening.

As I am checking in with Jim before going home, he gives me a strange look.

“Hey Karl,” he asked, “when was the last time you had a haircut? I didn’t notice it this morning, but it seems as if your hair has gotten more than little shaggy. You might want to get another haircut before our next meeting with a client.”

I reach up and feel my hair. It does seem longer than it should. I swear that there is at least an inch of length that wasn't there this morning. It also feels a little fuller.

“I think that it’s been a couple of weeks,” I respond. “Normally I can go about six weeks between haircuts.”

“Longer hair is okay,” he admits, “but please keep it trimmed and presentable.”

“Will do,” I agree, “See you tomorrow.”

----<0>----

When I get home, I look in the mirror. My hair is definitely much longer than it was this morning and looks rather unkempt. I also notice that my face is still baby smooth. Normally, I would expect a little stubble by this time of day.

There is no doubt that something very strange is happening. Both the lack of facial hair and the phenomenal hair growth are just not possible but, looking in the mirror, the evidence that it is possible is literally staring me in the face. That's not even mentioning the magically appearing Christmas tree, notes, and 'gifts', nor the disappearance of my shaving supplies and shampoo. Are these the changes that mom referred to in her first note? If so, how is this going to help me find true love?

I take another selfie and compare it with this morning's image. My hair has definitely grown today. This morning, I was sporting my normal rather short professional haircut. This evening I have an unruly mop of hair that is at least three inches in length. This just can't happen!

Examining the shampoo and conditioner bottles does not reveal any clues. They are commercially available hair products of the type that my mother used to use. Taking a whiff of the shampoo brings back memories of the clean strawberry scent of her hair. The memories of my beautifully feminine mother brings tears to my eyes. How I miss her!

Unfortunately, I don’t really get to any of the work I brought home. Instead, I spend the evening making sure the house is secure against my crafty intruder. I make sure that every door and window is securely locked. I change the code on the keypad of the door to the garage. Drawing from spy movies, I put a small piece of tape across door jams so that I can tell if someone has opened the door in the night. If someone comes in tonight, I’ll at least know the point of entry.

I hope.

Once I feel secure, I re-examine the two notes. The handwriting definitely looks like Mom’s. The words sound like Mom’s. If it is not actually from mom, then whoever is doing this certainly is doing an excellent forgery. As I reread the words, a chill runs up my spine. What if she is communicating from the grave?

She says, in the first note, changes will be made over the twelve days of Christmas with the goal of preparing me for a new relationship. I only have two data points so far, but that is enough to make me suspect that agents of change will appear each of the twelve days.

The gifts of shampoo and conditioner I can understand. It will help me look nicer. But the necklace? What is its purpose? I reach up and notice that I still have it on. Finding the clasp, I remove the piece of jewelry and examine it more closely.

Dad had bought the necklace for mom one Christmas when I was a teenager and she would wear it frequently. There was something about the gem that tweaked the interest of the jeweler who bought mom’s jewelry as one lot. He had commented on the size and quality of the stone. Tonight, it seems to have some slight inner glow. I wonder if that is usual? It is a beautiful piece of jewelry, but other than that I don't see anything overly mystic about it.

Finding the small box that it came in, I tuck the necklace into the box and decide to store it in the master bedroom.

Since I cleaned out my parents’ personal effects, I rarely visited the master bedroom. I usually enter the room only once or twice a month to dust and vacuum. For me, the room still seems to have a sort of sacred feel to it. After cleaning out my parents personal effects, I left the furniture in place almost as if I expect them to return someday. The queen size bed is made up just as it was the night my parents died. I made sort of a shrine on top of a dresser with a framed picture of the three of us at Christmas just a week before the accident as well as a framed picture from their wedding. Their wedding rings have a place of honor in front of my parents wedding picture.

Tonight, the first thing that I notice on entering the room is that mom’s jewelry box is back on her vanity. The reappearance of the jewelry box is unsettling because the jewelry box was sold along with the jewelry. Opening the box, I find what appears to be the complete inventory of mom’s jewelry. Rifling through the box’s drawers, I am pretty sure that literally everything that I sold is in there.

Damn! How did this get here? I better let the jeweler who bought the lot know that it’s here or someone will think that I stole it. All sorts of bad scenarios run through my head as I contemplate what would happen if I was accused of theft.

Looking through the drawers of the vanity I find them to still be empty. Just for good measure, I open every drawer in the bedroom to see if anything else returned. I breathe a sigh of relief to know that my only real problem is the jewelry.

Walking into the master bathroom, I see that there is more to my problem. The rack that mom used to hang her hair accessories and less expensive necklaces on is back on the wall and it is fully loaded. Opening the drawers in the bathroom cabinet, I find one filled with various hair clips, bands, brushes, combs, etc. right where they had been before I cleaned out the bathroom last spring. A chill runs down my spine.

As I ponder the significance of what I am finding, I find that I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around all this. The jewelry was sold. The hair accessories either went at the garage/estate sale, or were donated to charity shops, or ended up in the landfill. There is no way that someone could have rounded all this stuff up and returned it. Even if someone could have found everything, how did they sneak in and put it all back where it had been when mom died? Someone would have had to know where everything was, gather it up somehow, break into the house, and put it right where it belonged. I can’t think of anyone with that kind of knowledge and ability. Sure, someone could have entered the house while I was at work and staged all this stuff, but how would they know where it all went?

I wonder again if my parents aren’t truly communicating with me from the grave.

Sleep tonight is slow in coming as I go to bed with more questions than answers.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 2

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I wonder again if my parents aren’t truly communicating with me from the grave. I go to bed with more questions than answers.

Tuesday Dec 27, Day 2

After a restless night, filled with nonsensical dreams, I actually wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off wondering what mystical treat is awaiting me this morning.

What I find is the soap missing from my shower. In its place are three bottles of Le Petit Marseillais body wash. One in Almond scent just the same as my mother used to use, the others being Lait (milk) and Peche Blanche et Nectarine (White Peach and Nectarine). There is a funny puff ball thing hanging in the shower. I had seen one in my parent’s shower when I cleaned it out. There is also some feminine deodorant on the counter. A quick search for my usual deodorant comes up empty. It is gone.

Of course, there is a note with the deodorant on the counter.

Dearest Karl,

You probably have many questions. We can’t really answer them at this point. Sorry! As we mentioned before, it will all come clear on the day of the Epiphany.

In the meantime, we are still set on helping you prepare to find the love of your life. Women love nice scents, so we have provided you with three different ones to choose from. The body wash will help you in your quest. Just add a little to the Loofah body wash scrubber to spread it over your body. It is much better than using a washcloth.

You should go to the coffee shop today. Your old high school girlfriends, Anita and Jane, will be there. You should join them for lunch.

Wear the topaz necklace again. It will help us to feel close to you and you to us.

Jim is right, you are due for a trim. I suggest that you go see Caroline at the salon today and have her tidy your hair up a little.

Love always, Mom and Dad.

Another interesting note to add to my growing collection.

So, I am supposed to have lunch with Anita and Jane today. I briefly dated each of them in high school. I know that Jane is now married with a child but Anita is still single. I haven’t visited with either of them in ages. I am not sure that I really have an excuse to do so now.

About the haircut, I think that I’ll just go see my barber instead of Caroline.

I am not so pressed for time this morning, so I wander downstairs to check my tells and find that nothing has been disturbed. No one has been through any of the exterior doorways or windows. Interesting. How did the note and gifts find their way into my house?

Feeling my chin, I realize that I still don’t need to shave which will take a few minutes off my prep time this morning. I do a double take when I look into the mirror. Not only are my cheeks as smooth as a baby’s bum, but I swear that my hair has grown at least another inch overnight.

That’s impossible, like everything else.

It is definitely time for a haircut.

When dressing for the day, I find the topaz necklace on my nightstand - not where I had left it last night. With a shrug I put it on, noticing that it fits a little better today. I also observe that my shirt collar is pretty loose as I knot my tie. Am I shrinking? I don’t think that I’ve lost any height, but my neck is definitely slimmer. If this is a trend, I will need to buy some new dress shirts soon.

I snap a quick selfie before leaving for work.

----<0>----

“Getting a bit shaggy aren’t we?” Celeste gives me a look of disapproval when I walk in the office. She sniffs a little and asks with a frown, “Is that some kind of body wash scent that I smell?”

I roll my eyes at her, “Yes, Mrs. Jenkins, I intend to get a haircut today and my mother told me that a body wash scent would be good for my love life.”

“Honey,” she retorts, “the best thing you can do for your love life is to get out of your office and meet some nice women your age. When was the last time you went on a date? Say the word and I can introduce you to some very nice young ladies."

“Thanks for your concern, Mrs. Jenkins,” I reply, “but I really should be getting some work done.”

“That’s the problem, dear.” She huffs at me.

I manage to slip out of the office late in the morning to visit my usual barber. He is not too busy this time of day and seats me immediately.

“Boy,” he observes, “you’ve been letting your hair get away from you.”

As he restores my hair to its professional looking short cut, we talk about all the things you chat about in a barber shop. The state of the weather, the best place for ice fishing this year, how the football season is wrapping up, who is going to win the college football bowl games. You know, the usual stuff. There is a surprising amount of hair on the floor when he is done.

Walking back to the office with my newly shorn head, I pass the local coffee shop just as Anita and Jane approach the door along with a very cute little girl who is hanging onto Jane’s hand. There has to be some cosmic force in action here. Getting there just ahead of the women, I hold the door for them.

“Hello ladies,” I smile at them. They look a little surprised.

“Well, if it isn’t Karl,” Anita says with a smile. “We haven’t seen you in a long time, why don’t you join us and tell us what you’ve been up to.”

“Please do,” Jane added. “We were all devastated by the loss of your parents, and we haven’t seen you since the funeral.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” I make my apologies.

“Come now Karl,” Jane encourages me. “We are old friends and we’d love to catch up with what you've been up to.”

“If you insist,” I relent, “I will join you on the condition that I pick up the tab.”

The women look at each other and shrug. “Sure, that would be nice,” Anita agrees.

We spent an hour together chatting like the old friends that we once were. I learn that Jane has just the one daughter, Amy age three, and she just recently found out that she is expecting another child. Both Jane and Anita teach at the local high school, but Jane will quit at the end of the year to become a full-time mom.

With the cost of daycare, it is about break even to work to pay for it or to stay home and focus on raising the children.

Anita, it turns out, is between relationships. Her last boyfriend was in the early stages of getting mentally and physically abusive. Not that he had done anything serious yet, but Anita could see where it was going having lived next door to an abusive household while growing up. When she found out that he was cheating on her to boot, he got the boot. Apparently, the breakup wasn’t pretty. There were restraining orders involved.

They ask about how my life was going, and I tell them about quitting my big city job and moving home to settle the estate and work my way into my father’s engineering firm. They question my decision to be involved in the management of the firm when I have so little experience. I explain our plan for me to work under the direction of the other partner until I earn my professional license, hopefully in the coming spring. Even then, I will work as one of the staff engineers, getting my hands dirty for a few more years, until everyone feels that I have earned the right to help manage the firm. Until then, my father’s longtime partner is the managing partner but we consult often on management issues and business development. I can sell out my father’s interest at any time to his partner, but I think that this is a great opportunity for me to get a leg up in the industry. The ladies seem to agree that the plan sounds reasonable.

“How was your Christmas?” Jane asks with sympathy in her voice. “I imagine it was lonely with your parents gone.”

“It was, but I had Christmas dinner with Jake and Sarah. Joanna was there too. It was a nice evening.”

“Joanna was there?” Anita raised an eyebrow. "I hadn't heard that you were dating her."

“I am not,” I quickly respond. “Sarah invited her. Let’s just say that Joanna has pretty high standards for the guys she might date. I doubt that I meet them.”

Anita snorts, “That’s a diplomatic way to say that she really doesn’t think too much of men in general. I know what you mean, she helped me with my restraining order. After all the cases of domestic abuse she’s handled, her opinion of the male of the species is rather low.”

“Hey,” I defend my gender, “it works both ways. There are abusers out there that are female.”

“I imagine that there are ten male abusers out there for every female one.” Jane points out. “But there are still a lot of good men around, like my Bryan. Unfortunately, it is the nature of Joanna’s business to see the scumbags and not the good guys.”

“A professional hazard I suppose,” Anita agrees, “but I am starting to think she might be right. Finding a good man is tough.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I cough.

“Sorry, Karl,” Jane apologizes. “We know that you are one of the good guys.”

“Yes,” Anita agrees, "Do you remember going to the Homecoming dance with me our Junior year?"

I nod, indicating that I do.

"Well," she continued, "That night you were impeccably polite and gentlemanly. You kept your distance and seemed to be afraid to touch me. You also seemed more interested in how the disco ball worked than in me."

"You were that way when we attended the Junior prom together later that year," Jane added.

“Karl, all the girls respected you in school because you so sweet and respectful," Anita continues, "but you were always distracted. There were a number of girls that had crushes on you but I don’t think that you ever noticed.”

“Maybe we should change the topic,” Jane kindly suggests, noticing my discomfort with where this line of discussion is going, “Did you decorate for Christmas?”

“Funny you should ask,” I reply, grateful for the change in topic. “No, I didn’t but I found a nicely decorated tree in my living room on Christmas morning.”

“A secret Santa!” Anita announced with a clap of her hands.

“I love secret Santas,” Jane agreed. “Did he leave a present?”

“Mommy, Mommy,” Jane's daughter interrupts the conversation, “I need to go potty.”

Perfect timing. The little girl has been very well behaved but seems to be reaching the end of her patience with grown-up talk.

“Excuse us,” Jane apologizes, “We’ll be right back.”

As the mother-daughter team head for the toilets, Anita picks up the line of questioning.

“Did you get a present?”

“It’s a little complicated, but yes,” I answered. At this point my cell phone rings. It is the office calling to see when I’ll be back. Apparently, my presence is required, and I’ve been gone for a long time already.

“Listen, Anita, I need to get back to the office.” I apologize. “And the question about the gift would take some time to explain.”

Recalling that Anita had been into mystic stuff in high school, I decide to seek her assistance.

“You would have to see this to believe it.” I inform her. “You used to be into mystic stuff, maybe you can help me figure out what the gift is all about. Are you available to come by the house tonight? I could order some dinner. I’m afraid that my culinary skills mostly involve take out.”

She laughs, “I must admit that I am intrigued. How about I pick up some Chinese on my way over?”

“It’s a date,” I agree.

I settle the lunch bill and leave before Jane and her daughter reappeared.

----<0>----

The afternoon passes slowly. I participate in a couple of rather boring design progress meetings but, with half the office on holiday, I am not sure how effective the meetings are.

My haircut earns approving nods from Jim and Celeste, but I can almost feel it growing out again as the end of the workday approaches.

When I have a free minute, I call the jeweler who bought mom’s collection. I tell him that I am curious to know if he still had any of the pieces left. He informs me that he has already sold all the pieces to various customers. He asks if there was a particular piece that I was interested in. I tell him that I am interested in the topaz pendent necklace. He said that the necklace had been one of the first pieces sold. At least I can rest easy that they were not stolen from him.

But how did the collection get reassembled? And how did it get back into the house?

----<0>----

As I pull into my driveway, I notice that Anita is already out front waiting in her car. She gets out of her car with a big bag of food from a local Chinese restaurant while I park my car in the garage. I manage get to the front door just in time to open it for her. Before opening the door, I check my tell. The door has not been opened since I left home.

I take the bag from her and carry it to the dining room table before disappearing into the kitchen to get plates and drinks.

“Do you want chopsticks?” I call out to her from the kitchen as she hangs her coat on the coat tree.

“No,” she calls back, “I prefer real utensils. Nice tree. Have you figured out who put it up?”

“I’ll tell you what I know over dinner,” I reply.

After getting the dinner stuff out, I run upstairs quickly to shed my tie and grab the notes. I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt, revealing the necklace. Once I am down the stairs, I check all the tells and every one of them is still in place.

“Nice necklace,” Anita observes as we sit down to the meal.

“That’s part of story,” I inform her as we dig in.

As I hand her the first note to read, I tell her of coming down Christmas morning to find the tree, card and gift package.

“This is creepy,” she comments after reading the note. “It looks like your mother wants you to find your soul mate.”

“She has always wanted that,” I sigh. “The creepy thing is how did this get here? We had a foot of snow Christmas morning and there were no tracks in it. How did someone bring in a freshly cut tree without leaving tracks? All the ornaments on the tree were stored in the garage and I would have heard someone bringing them into the house. Mom’s been gone for almost a year. Who would write such a note? The necklace was sold to a jeweler along with the rest of mom’s jewelry. How did it come back?”

Anita looked at the card again. “Do you recognize the handwriting?”

“It looks exactly like my mom’s,” I answer.

“Who was Judy?” she asks.

“A girl I knew in college that I thought I was in love with. It didn’t work out.” I sigh.

“What went wrong?” she asks with curiosity.

“She says that I did not spend enough time with her,” I shrug. “Engineering school was pretty time consuming so I was studying all the time. One day I came home to find that she ran off with a theater major. I hear that that relationship did not last long either.”

“A girl likes some attention,” she declares, “You were never one to do that. Tell me about the necklace.”

“It is one that my father bought her about ten years ago, or so. It was her favorite. When I opened the present, I recognized it immediately and got an urge to put it on. So I did and forgot about it. I’ve worn it most of the time since then.”

“Has anything strange happened since you started wearing it?”

“There have been so many strange things happening," I admit. "For example, I haven’t had to shave since I started wearing the necklace. It also seems that my neck has become more slender. Oh, and when I went into the master bedroom, I found the rest of mom’s jewelry collection and her jewelry box right where it had been when she died. I called the jeweler who bought the collection, and he informed me that he has resold every piece to various customers. Whoever brought it all back must have had a heck of a time getting the collection back together. And I’m not sure how they got it in the house with all the doors and windows locked.”

“This is a real mystery,” she thoughtfully observes. “She talks about daily changes. Have other things happened?”

I hand her the second day’s note.

“What’s this shampoo and conditioner?” she asked after reading mom’s instructions.

“It’s nothing special that I can see,” I tell her. “It is just commercially available stuff. In fact, it is the same stuff that mom used to use.”

“You’ve been using it?” she inquired.

“Yes,” I admit. “For the past two mornings. I haven't had much choice since my old shampoo disappeared when this stuff showed up.”

“Anything strange happen after you washed your hair?” she asked.

I reach up to feel my hair. I am sure that it’s grown at least two inches since my haircut this morning.

“My hair seems to growing at a phenomenal rate.” I say. “I had my hair cut just before lunch today and it’s already grown quite a bit since then.”

“I remember your hair from lunch,” she says, “It looked pretty professional then. Now it looks more than a little shaggy. What did Caroline have to say about it?”

I blush when I admit that I went to see my barber instead. I then go on to tell her that about the same time as the appearance of this note, all my mother’s hair accessories reappeared.

She asks if I received a note today, so I show her the latest one.

“How did she know that Jane and I were going to lunch together today?” she asks with a puzzled expression. “We didn’t even think of going before 10 AM this morning. It was a spontaneous decision. We are both off work for the holiday and thought it would be nice to have lunch together before things get crazy again next week. This is seriously weird.”

“I know,” I agree with her.

“Somebody must be pulling your chain,” Anita concludes. “Who else has a key to your house? An old family friend or neighbor? How does this person know these details?”

“That’s just it,” I point out. “No one that I know has a key. I’ve put tells on all the doors and windows. None of my tells have been breached. I really don’t think that anyone has been here.”

We spend time discussing how all this could be happening. Regardless of how we look at the evidence, there is no rational explanation for the events of the past three days. Anita gets visibly excited as we keep circling back to the idea that this might be an actual supernatural event.

“Let me guess,” she looks at me with sparkling eyes, “your regular soap wasn’t there this morning.”

“You are right,” I confirm her guess. “And my usual deodorant was gone and a new one on the counter.”

"Feminine deodorant?" she questions.

I nod in the affirmative. "The same kind that mom used to use."

“What else appeared in your parent’s room today?” she asks.

“I haven’t checked yet,” I shrug my shoulders.

“Well,” she says with determination, “what are we waiting for! I really need to see this. Lead the way.”

Walking into the master bedroom, I don’t immediately see anything new. Poking my head in the bathroom, I don’t see any obvious changes here either.

“Is there anything in the drawers?” she asks.

“There wasn’t yesterday,” I tell her.

Anita pulls open the drawers in the bathroom cabinet. They are all empty except one which has some pink disposable razors, shaving cream and more feminine deodorant.

“These weren’t here before today?” she asks examining the contents.

“They weren’t there yesterday,” I emphasize defensively.

We go back into the bedroom, where she starts pulling open the dresser drawers as I had done yesterday. She closely examines the drawers in the walk-in closet as well.

They are all empty.

Anita asks to see the other upstairs bathroom that I use.

She examines the shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, and body washes. While she is doing her examination, I open the sink vanity drawers and show her that my shaving supplies are gone. When I mention this latest development, she reaches up and strokes my cheek.

“Well,” she says with a smile, “It doesn’t look like you need it anymore!”

Running her hand down my arm, she comments, “You have mighty fine body hair for a man. This looks more like the hair on my arm.” She puts her arm against mine. While mine is definitely a man’s arm, the hair on it is fine just like hers. My skin is pretty smooth too.

“What about the rest of your body? Can I see?” she asks with an inquisitive look on her face.

“I am not getting undressed,” I blush furiously.

“Just unbutton your shirt and raise your pant leg.” She suggests.

After a little more cajoling I relent only to find that my legs and chest are also free of masculine hair. While never a hairy guy, this morning I had definitely had chest hair. My legs have a very fine hair as opposed to the coarse hair that I am used to seeing.

Anita runs her hands over my chest with a bit of a dreamy look on her face.

“Definitely a manly chest,” she observes with a coy smile, “just without all the hair.”

I quickly step away and self-consciously close up my shirt.

Great, I think to myself. The first time in years that I’m alone with a woman who wants to run her hands over my body and I am seriously creeped out.

She gives a good-natured laugh. “You should get away from your desk a little more often. You are getting a little pudgy.”

We spend another hour discussing every angle of my situation and finally conclude that there is definitely something supernatural going on.

“This is so cool,” she says enthusiastically. “I’ve spent a lot of time studying supernatural phenomena, but this is the first time that I have actually encountered it!”

“Yeah,” I agree, “It kind of makes you think that there really is life after death.”

“I have no problem with that,” she says. “Let me share this with a couple of my friends who know more about supernatural phenomena, and we will see what they have to say about it.”

We also conclude that I’m likely to get more notes and “gifts”. There is also evidence that I am being feminized, making us wonder how this fits in with the finding true love part of the messages. I shudder to think that my true love might actually be much different than I was thinking.

Eventually it gets late, so I see Anita out to her car with a promise to let her know what surprises tomorrow brings.

Undressing for bed, I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my parent’s room. I still see me, but without the masculine body, arm and leg hair. There is still copious hair in my pubic area and arm pits. My new haircut is a thing of the past. My hair looks as shaggy as it did before this morning’s trip to the barber. It is probably even longer than it was this morning. In fact, it has probably grown another inch just while Anita was here.

The necklace is the only thing I am wearing. It hangs a little lower on my chest and I don’t think the chain is getting any longer. It is slight, but I am sure that my neck is more slender than it was when I first put on the necklace. At least, I am still fully male where it really counts.

Pulling on my normal nightwear of boxers and a t-shirt, I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I am not sure that I am looking forward to it.

Becoming paranoid, I close every door inside the house with tells in place before going to bed.

After turning out the light, I notice a very faint glow from the topaz necklace laying on my nightstand.
 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 3

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn Pulling on my normal nightwear of boxers and a t-shirt, I wonder what tomorrow will bring. I am not sure that I am looking forward to it. Becoming paranoid, I close every door inside the house with tells in place before going to bed. After turning out the light, I notice a very faint glow from the topaz necklace laying on my nightstand.

Wednesday Dec 28, Day 3

My first task of the morning is to check the tells on my doors and windows. A quick circuit around the house confirms that they are all in place. I am not sure that I am happy about that when I find today’s note and gifts in my bathroom. I’d like to think that someone is actually playing a practical joke on me. It kind of creeps me out to think that I am being watched from the other side.

Good morning, Karl,

We see that you did not follow our advice about your hair. Please go see Caroline today. She will have an opening today at 11 AM and her shop is just down the street from your office. She does hair for both men and women. I think that you will be pleased with her services.

Don’t forget to floss your teeth this morning. You will also find that gargling with mouthwash will help keep your mouth feeling fresh all day. Girls like that.

With Love, Mom & Dad.

Looking in the mirror I see that my hair is even longer than it was yesterday morning. There has been at least four inches of new growth since my haircut. Apparently, my hair has an agenda of its own and just won’t stay short. I can't help notice that my mop is a little fuller this morning.

It looks like I’ll be seeing Caroline today.

By the sink I find a new bottle of mouthwash, a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss. There is also a new tube of lip balm. I can’t help wonder what new feminization these products will bring to my life. Do the products cause change or are they just emblematic of the changes that I can expect to start today? There is a mystery that probably will never be solved.

Looking through the cabinets I can not find my old versions of these products. I sigh when it becomes clear to me that, since all my old versions of these products are gone, I am obliged to use these new gifts today.

With a sigh, I retrieve my phone from my room and take an image of the note with my new personal hygiene items. I text the image to Anita before going through my morning routine, with special attention to my oral hygiene. My lips are dry so I apply the lip balm as well.

As I am eating some cereal, I get a text back from Anita asking what new items showed up in the master bedroom.

I still have some time before I have to leave for work, so I head upstairs to search my parent’s room. The only new items I find are some tubes of lipstick, in various colors, and lip gloss (cherry and strawberry flavors) in a drawer of the vanity. I send Anita a photo of the stash of lip products. She texts back that my mother has good taste. The lipstick is apparently of good quality.

I am thinking that mom’s suggestion of daily selfies is a really good idea if I am undergoing transformational change, so I take a couple of shots before leaving for work. One is a whole body shot in front of a full-length mirror, then a standard front head shot followed by a poor attempt at a profile head shot in an attempt to show the length of my hair.

----<0>----

As I walk in the office, Celeste immediately notices my hair again and frowns at me.

“What has happened to your hair?” she asks with disapproval in her voice.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It seems to have a life of its own. I think it has grown over four inches since yesterday.”

“And what’s happened to your voice?” she asked with concern. “Are you sick? Your voice sounds lighter today. It is almost girly.”

She’s right! I haven’t spoken out loud all morning, so I hadn’t noticed the change. I don’t think it is girly, but the tone is definitely up half an octave.

“Jim is just going to LOVE this. Not!” she says sarcastically.

----<0>----

A while later, Jim stops by my office to find out what is going on. Being partners, I figure that I better bring him into the loop as it looks like this may have an impact on the business. I ask him to close the door and we spend half an hour going over everything that has happened since Sunday. I think that he is taking the news rather calmly. Being analytically minded engineers, we study the data together and essentially arrived at the same conclusions that Anita and I had the night before. What we can’t figure out, however, was what to do about it. As far as work was concerned, if I keep producing as I always have then my personal changes shouldn’t be an issue. The main problem will be working with clients and possibly dealing with the staff. We decide to see how far this is going to go before doing anything specific. We agree that trying to hide any changes will only backfire on us when found out, so we agree to be open about what was happening to me if anyone asks. He highly recommends that I see my family doctor to see if these changes can be stopped reversed or, at least, document what is going on. I might need some creditable documentation if this change goes all the way.

After talking with Jim, I call Caroline’s salon and make an appointment as the note suggested. Of course, she has an opening as the note said she would.

My next call is to Dr. Lake’s office. Dr. Lake has been our family doctor for as long as I can remember. The receptionist says that his 1 PM appointment just canceled and that I can have that slot.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be getting a lot of billable hours in today.

----<0>----

“Sweetie, what have you not done with your hair?” Caroline looks at my hair disapprovingly when she first sees me.

Caroline is about my mother’s age and had been her hairdresser for many years . Mom used to have Caroline cut my hair when I was young.

“Your mother, bless her soul, would not be happy with your appearance,” She scolds me.

I proceed to fill her in on what has been happening with my hair the last few days.

“So,” she questions me, “you’re telling me that you had a conservative short business cut just yesterday? That’s hard to believe.”

“I get it,” I sigh. “I have no clue what is going on with this mop, but it has grown at least four inches since this time yesterday.”

I can tell that she doesn’t really believe me.

“Hypothetically,” I ask, “if this is to continue at this pace, what can you do to my hair so that it maintains some semblance of order as it grows out?”

“And, I suppose that you don’t want it to look girlie?” she clarifies my question.

I just nod.

She walks around me, feeling my hair as she contemplates the options.

“Have you ever heard of a folk singer named John Denver?” she asks.

“The name sounds familiar, I think mom listened to some of his songs,” I reply.

“Well, he had fairly straight hair like you and later in his career he wore it long.” She tells me. “It wasn’t so long at first, kind of like yours is now but with some shape. He grew it out later and he looked pretty good. You could go with a look like that. It might not fit into your engineering world too well, but it doesn’t look bad. Let me show you.”

She gets her iPad and finds some images of the folk singer with a quick web search. Some of the images are from earlier in his career when his hair wasn’t too long. Others showed him later on with near shoulder length hair and funky round glasses.

“Do you wear contacts?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Well,” she suggests, “you could ditch them and get some of those cool glasses. What do you think?”

“I think that I’ll stick with contacts,” I reply, not liking the spectacles idea, “but we could try the hair style.”

“That will work,” she admits. “Think about getting some of those outdoor clothes and ditch the tie and you would look a lot like him.”

With that, she shapes my hair so that it will grow out like John’s.

----<0>----

After a quick bite of lunch at a internationally franchised purveyor of fast junk food, I arrive at the doctor’s office. It is also within walking distance of the office.

Dr. Lake is a little late getting back from his lunch, but I am shown in to see him a few minutes after the appointed time.

“Well, Karl,” he asks with a smile, “What can we do for you today? It’s not time for your physical again, is it?”

“No,” I respond. “I had one of those a few months ago. I’ve got a new problem.”

“Okay,” he frowns, “tell me about it.”

It takes me about twenty minutes to fill him in on the odd affairs of the last few days. He raises his eyebrows when I tell him about the cure for shaving, my higher voice, the change in body hair, and the fast growing hair on my head. He asks lots of questions and I can tell that he doesn't really believe me.

“You’re not a transsexual, are you?” He asks. “I’ve worked with a few over the past few years. However, even after years of hormone treatment, they don’t report effects quite like this.”

“I am not a transsexual,” I confirm. “And I am not on any hormone treatment. It’s just happening. Each of the changes seems to come after I receive a communication from my mother.” I show him pictures of the notes from my mother, as well as my daily selfies, on my phone.

“I am finding this all hard to swallow,” he admits, “But I can’t deny that something very strange is happening to you. It is obvious that there have been minor changes to your body since we last met. Well, let’s go ahead with an exam. We’ll take some blood and urine samples for lab work. We might as well take a DNA swab too while we are at it.”

So that is what we do. I am weighed, measured, prodded and poked. He does the FULL exam.

“That is all the damage that I can do today,” he smiles as he takes off his exam gloves after checking my prostate. “You are ten pounds lighter than you were when we saw you six months ago, but that can be due to a lot of factors. Your skin is softer and clearer than last time I saw you. I can’t find any visual evidence that you ever had any facial hair. Your larynx is not as prominent as I would expect. I suspect that your vocal cords have tightened up some. I don’t know what to say about your hair. While I find this all very interesting, you are in good health. If, as you suggest, the changes are the result of some mystical event there is not much medical science can do to help you stop or reverse what is happening to you. The best I can do is document the changes. Sorry, Karl.”

“I was afraid of that,” I sigh. “Documentation will probably be useful if worse comes to worse and I need to change my identity.”

“I will let you know the lab results tomorrow. If the changes continue or you start feeling ill or in pain,” he instructs me, “come back. I am really curious to see how this progresses. I’ll tell the front desk to work you in as a priority if you call.”

As I walk back to the office, I ponder on the craziness of the last few days. Am I really morphing into a woman? Or am I just taking on some of the characteristics of one? Like most men, I don’t know the first thing about being a woman.

Is this really a supernatural event? If so is there any hope for stopping this train?

I agree with Dr. Lake. If all these changes are the result of the will of some mystical power, there is probably nothing that medical science can do to stop it. Any effort to stop the progress would be like trying to stop the tide.  I get that. I tried to resist my hair growth with a hair cut and look at where that got me!

So, I conclude, I will just have to ride it out to its conclusion whether I like it or not.

The best way to avoid worrying over just about anything is to immerse myself in work. I have plenty of that!

----<0>----

When my phone dings with a message notification, I rouse myself out of deep concentration on a particularly challenging work problem to notice that I am alone in the office. Looking at the clock, I realize that everyone else probably left an hour ago.

The text is from Anita asking if she can stop by my house for an update. She wants to see, with her own eyes, what happened today.

I ask her to give me an hour to wrap things up at the office.

----<0>----

On my way home, I manage a quick trip through Walmart to get new shampoo (one combined with conditioner), toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant made for a man, generic soap, shaving cream, etc… all those things that 'mom' left for me, but in a more masculine form. I want to make sure that I am not using altered products. I still don't know if the changes result from the gifted products or not and hope that using my own products will answer the question. I also grab a premade sandwich for dinner.

I manage to get home before Anita shows up so I have time to get out of my work clothes and into some comfortable jeans and a casual long sleeve flannel shirt. I am channeling my inner John Denver.

I also take time to check all my tells. They are all in place. No one has come through any of the doors while I was gone for the day.

I am about to head upstairs to check out the master bedroom when the doorbell rings. Opening the door, I am greeted by a smiling Anita and Joanna.

Oh great, Joanna, I immediately think to myself. I guess it shows on my face.

“Sorry Karl,” Anita looks apologetic when she sees my frown. “Joanna is one of my friends who is intrigued by supernatural phenomena. When I told her about what was going on, she wanted to come see for herself. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Hey, Karl.” Joanna gives me a small wave. “I love the necklace. Isn’t that the same one you wore to Christmas dinner?”

I forgot that I am still wearing the jewelry.

“Yes, it is. Come in out of the cold, ladies,” I open the door admitting them into the house.

“Oh Karl,” Anita asks with concern, “has your voice changed? I like the hair.”

It turns out that the two women are good friends. Something about being in their mid 20s and still single when most of their peers are now married and starting families. I guess that I fit that description now, with the difference being male to their femaleness.

Over the next hour we go over my story again and they get the tour of the master bedroom. Both women are very thorough in their inspection. They announce that my mother has excellent taste in jewelry and cosmetics, at least lipstick and lip gloss. They also approve of the shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, and body wash that mom left me. With their help, we move all mom's personal hygiene gifts into the master bedroom’s en suite and put my new Walmart purchases in the bathroom that I generally use.

“Why aren’t you living in the master suite?” Joanna asks in curiosity.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “It still feels like their space. I’m not ready to make the move. Not only that, but it looks as if mom is moving back in.”

“Actually, we think that Karl’s mom might be feminizing him,” Anita informs Joanna.

“Damn,” Joanna mutters with a disappointed look on her face, “another one bites the dust.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“We are getting to the age when decent single guys are like parking spaces,” Joanna says, unhappily.

My continued confusion is obvious to both women.

“Yes,” Anita explains, “The good ones are already taken.”

“Or they are clueless geeks,” Joanna grumbles. “Finding a good man is tough. Now we can add mystically transformed to the list.”

“Karl,” Anita explains, “ as we told you at lunch yesterday, all the girls in our class respected and liked you. You are the perfect gentleman, never going all macho on us. You are the kind of guy that every mother wants for their daughters. Unfortunately, puberty made us a little boy crazy and most of us were drawn to the manly macho types of guys during our teen years. They are fascinatingly different from us. It is a self-destructive behavior that most of us girls had to get past.”

“The only problem,” Joanna points out, “was that you were considered boring since you weren’t one of those excitingly different macho boys. Don’t get me wrong, there were girls who had crushes on you. You were nice and polite, but girls never seemed to be a priority with you. Technology and odd projects seemed to be more important in your world. You were an asexual geek. Still are, from what I hear.”

Joanna doesn’t seem to have many filters.

I look at her curiously, “And I heard that you don’t like men, Joanna. Did I hear wrong?”

“That’s just a nasty rumor spread by men that I have destroyed in court. I do like men,” she corrects me, “I just hate assholes. Unfortunately, most of the men I’ve run across are assholes. I would love to find a man who isn’t an asshole and who would be fun to be with.”

“So,” I ask her, “am I an asshole as well as boring?”

She blushes, “I didn’t mean to include you in my generalization.”

I just look hard at her waiting for an answer to my question.

Anita jumps in, “Karl, you have never been an asshole.”

“Not that we know of, anyway,” Joanna clarifies.

I sigh, “I guess that it is better to be boring than an asshole.”

“Well,” Joanna tries to soften the criticism, “maybe not exactly boring. Maybe clueless is a more appropriate term.”

Anita quickly interjects, “As Joanna said, there were quite a lot of girls in our class that had mild crushes on you at one time or another. I know that I did, but after a couple of dates, which I think your mother pushed you into, it seemed obvious that girls were not your top priority. It was deflating.”

“I was also one of those girls,” Joanna admitted, “but you never noticed me even when I tried to flirt with you. Eventually, I fell under the spell of that asshole star football player, Bob whatshisname, who was sexy and exciting. What a big mistake that turned out to be.”

Thinking back to high school, I don’t recall ever being pursued. Maybe I was, and maybe I still am, clueless.

“Sorry ladies, I never knew.” I apologize.

Joanna looks at Anita and sighs, “Definitely clueless.”

Anita also sighs and says, “Karl you the perfect prototype for the story of the engineering student who rides a new bicycle up to his friend’s place. His friend tells him that he thinks the new bike is cool and asked him where he got it. The engineering student tells his friend that a hot coed rode up to him on the bike, hopped off, then stripped off all her clothes and told him to take what he wanted. He decided that the clothes wouldn’t suit him, so he took the bike.”

“I don’t get it,” I say confused. “It sounds like he made the right decision.”

Looking at Anita, Joanna confirms, “Yes, he’s definitely clueless.”

“Don’t worry about it, Karl,” Anita assures me, patting me on the arm. “It will come to you.”

On that note, the girls make their excuses and head out the door.

I went over the story again as I made my rounds setting tells and making sure the house is secure before turning in for the night.

I still don’t get it.

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 4

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I went over the story again as I made my rounds setting tells and making sure the house is secure before turning in for the night. I still don’t get it.

Thursday Dec 29, Day 4

First thing in the morning, I stumble half awake into the bathroom looking for another note. There is not one there.

A glance in the mirror informs me that I can skip shaving again this morning. My hair grew another inch or two overnight and now covers my ears, reaching almost to my shoulders. The softer version of my face staring back from my mirror has a serious case of bedhead. At this rate, I am sure that my hair will be below my shoulders by the end of the day. I don't think that the John Denver looks is going to make it through the day but at least it is growing out nicely... for a girl.

Looking around the bathroom, I see that all my newly purchased personal hygiene products have been replaced with the ones we removed last night. There also is a new hairbrush on the counter.

I go searching for the products that I bought last night but can’t find them anywhere.

Doing a quick check of my tells shows that no one has entered the house. What I do find is a note on the kitchen table.

Good morning Karl,

Anita was right the other night; you are getting a little pudgy. Girls like toned bodies. You really should be eating healthier and work out more often.

You really need to stop by the gym after work today.

Love, Mom & Dad

This note seems innocent enough and she’s right; I have been eating mostly fast food and drinking lots of coffee and soda — not the healthiest of diets. Mom used to try to convince me that pizza was not a basic food group. It was a sad day when she informed me that Cheetos weren’t either.

Looking in the fridge, I find skim milk, yogurt and berries that weren't there yesterday. I notice decorative jars on the counter with rolled oats, granola, and crushed nuts. My cheerios and whole milk are nowhere to be found. Neither is my bin of chocolate chips.

Today's note reminds me that I do have a gym membership, but so far it has been a bad investment since I only make it there a couple of times a month. The gym belongs to a former navy seal who encourages you much like a drill sergeant encourages a raw recruit who doesn't quite make the grade. The gym is popular with guys who wish they’d been in the special forces. It is not so popular with women.

It looks as if mom was kind enough to pack my gym bag for me. It is sitting by the door to the garage. Given all of the changes lately, I better check it before I go to make sure she didn’t include anything feminine in the bag.

Before heading back upstairs to shower, I text Anita and Joanna images of the note, the breakfast food in my refrigerator, and my gym bag by the door along with a note telling them that I will be going to the gym after work.

Anita texts me back asking if I’d like to meet her and Jane at the coffee house for lunch. How can I pass up a deal like that?

I end up using mom’s products again as I prepare for the day. I’m sure that the toothpaste and mouthwash are messing with my vocal cords since the pitch of my voice is, again, slightly higher today.

Maybe the floss seems to be having an effect as well. I may be hallucinating, but my jaw line seems a little softer this morning. It doesn’t seem so square. I take my daily selfies, and compare the face shots from the last few days. If you look closely, you can see subtle changes to my facial structure.

The topaz necklace rides a little lower again today and my shirt collar is definitely very loose. I will need to buy some shirts with a smaller collar if this keeps up.

----<0>----

As lunch time rolls around, I am happy to escape the office. Virtually everyone in the office asked me about my new hair style. The new pitch of my voice has not gone unnoticed either. One woman in the office suggested that my jaw didn’t look quite as rugged as usual. I met briefly with Jim and told him about my doctor’s visit. I think that he agrees that there is no stopping whatever is happening if this really is caused by the supernatural. If there is no way to stop the train, then we’ll just have to find a way to deal with the fallout. We both agree that it would do no good try to hide the obvious. How do you hide a change in gender? I just don’t want to make a big deal out of it. The sooner people come to grips with what is happening, the sooner we can move on.

As I am leaving the office to meet Anita and Jane, I receive a call from Dr. Lake. He wants me to swing by the office to donate more blood. Apparently, he is finding the current lab results hard to reconcile so he wants to try again. He is a little vague about what the issue is.

----<0>----

Anita and Jane are already seated at the coffee shop when I arrive. Jane’s daughter is noticeably absent. Apparently the little angel is spending time with her daddy today. Joanna arrives right after me.

Once we’re settled, Joanna opens the conversation, “Today’s note was pretty short.”

“It looks like you’re going to be changing your diet,” Jane adds with a smirks.

“And start getting some exercise,” Joanna smiles.

I am saved from responding by the arrival of the waitress.

I start to place an order for roast beef and onion panini sandwich and get an “oh no you don’t” look from my three companions.

“What would your mother say?” Jane asks with another smirk.

I sigh and order a green salad with avocado and chicken. I’m sure that I can pick up some junk food on the way back to the office if I am still hungry.

“And don’t stop off for junk food on the way back to the office,” Joanna cautions me as if she is reading my mind.

“So, it was yogurt for breakfast,” Anita picked up the prior inquisition. “How did that go down?”

“It was actually pretty good,” I admit. “You know, it seemed to be enough for this morning. I expected to get hungry by mid-morning, but I didn’t”

“That’s good,” Jane approves. “Anita and Joanna tell me that there are usually some changes around your house each morning. What happened today?”

I tell them about the return of mom’s personal hygiene product gifts.

“She must really want you to use what she gave you,” Anita commented. “Where did your Walmart stuff end up?”

“I don’t know,” I answer her, “I couldn’t find any of it.”

Joanna quips, “That trip to Walmart was a waste of time and money, as is usual for that place.”

I ignore her.

“What other changes did you find, other than the food?” Jane wants to know.

“Let’s see,” I ponder. “My hair gained another of couple inches.”

“It looks good,” Joanna interrupts.

“My voice has gotten a little higher,” I continue.

“It has,” Joanna interrupts again, “if this keeps up for a couple of more days, anyone hearing your voice without seeing you will think you are a woman. By the way, didn’t you have an Adam’s apple? There’s not much left now.”

I ignore her again and continue, “I found my gym bag all packed and by the door.”

“Did you check it out?” Anita asks. “Knowing what your mother is doing to you, you might find pink gym clothes.”

"Or a sports bra and yoga pants," Joanna adds.

This comment brings a chuckle to the assembled women.

“That would be cute,” Jane says with a smile.

“I don’t think so,” I don't find the humor.

“Please don’t tell us that you belong to that male chauvinist gym downtown,” Joanna almost begs. “What’s it called? Asshole’s Hardcore Fitness?”

“That would be Joe’s Hardcore Fitness,” I correct her. “And, yes, that’s where I go when I get around to working out.”

“I like my name for it better,” Joanna grumbles, “I represented his ex-wife during their divorce. Believe me, Joe is a certified asshole. Come to think of it, the idiot ex-husbands of many of my divorce clients have memberships there. You should find another gym.”

“You might be able to try my gym soon,” Anita smiles. “The Fitness Club for Women.”

“Bryan and I joined that national chain club,” Jane offers, “It is very reasonably priced and they go way out of their way to make everyone feel comfortable regardless of their experience or conditioning.”

I am noncommittal in my response, “We’ll see.”

Changing subjects, thankfully, Jane asks, “What new things did you find in the master bedroom? Isn’t there normally some new addition there?

“I didn’t have time to look there,” I admit. “I’ll do that when I get home tonight.”

“You will have to let us know what you find,” Joanna suggests. “This is an exciting adventure. Much more exciting than watching Law & Order reruns.”

“Maybe we could come see for ourselves?” Anita asks hopefully. “There’s not much else happening around here.”

“Can I come too?” Jane asks hopefully. “I bet that I can get Bryan to put Amy down.”

“I’m in,” Joanna invites herself.

Just what I need! It looks like I am this week’s entertainment.

“Sure,” I reluctantly agree. “I will text you all when I get home. It should be around 7:30 or there abouts.”

----<0>----

On my way back to the office, I stop by Dr. Lake’s office to give more blood and urine. I am given an appointment for after lunch tomorrow.

I don’t feel the need to supplement my lunch salad, so I skip my anticipated junk food lunch extender.

----<0>----

I should have checked the contents of my gym bag. While everything in it is technically for a male, not all the contents scream masculine.

Take, for example, the shorts. They are pastel baby blue. The T shirt is a very light grey with a math geek saying: “Avoid Negativity, f(x) = abs(x)”. As I said, they are made for a male, but with slightly different tailoring, the same clothes would look even better on a woman. The “Avoid Negativity” message doesn’t fit well in the particular gym that I belong to.

The clothes coupled with my, now shoulder length, brunette hair and higher pitched voice invite more than one jab at my masculinity by the owner and patrons of the club. It is not a pleasant experience.

As I finish up with some weights, which seem heavier than usual, I decide to look into that national chain gym that Jane and Bryan belong to. I am starting to see why women avoid this place and I wasn't even hit on. If I end up female I am sure that I would have to endure that additional indignity at this gym.

I wonder which is worse: the snide remarks about my increased femininity as a guy or enduring being hit on by arrogant macho men as a woman?

The only good thing about the experience was that I managed to work up a sweat (not hard to do with my poor fitness). I really need to exercise more often.

Instead of showering at the gym, I just gather up my clothes and drive home to clean up.

I send a group text/conversation to the girls as I leave the gym telling them that I will be ready for their company in 45 minutes. I send them the code for the garage man door in case I can’t get to the door when they arrive.

At home, before running upstairs for a shower, I look in my freezer for something to toss into the microwave for dinner only to find that my normal quick food items are gone. What I do find in the freezer is a homemade chicken and broccoli casserole just like mom used to make. It is accompanied by a note specifying how to heat it up. I hate chicken and broccoli casserole.

My beer is gone too. Instead, there is a bottle of white wine chilling in the fridge.

Lacking any better alternative, I pop the casserole in the oven to heat before dashing upstairs to shower.

The warm water feels great after the workout. If anything, my skin feels more sensitive than usual. The shower feels so good that I take longer than normal to finish up.

I am starting to get the impression that long hair takes more time to deal with than my usual short crop. There is a hair dryer on the counter that wasn’t there this morning but I am not certified to operate it. I skip the dryer and just brush out the snags in my hair after giving it a good rub with my towel. There are a lot of snags.

By the time I throw on a clean T Shirt and jeans, the ladies are already here.

I find them in the kitchen invading my space looking through my cupboards and refrigerator.

“Good evening, ladies,” I greet them with a hint of sarcasm as I head to the oven to retrieve my dinner. “Are you finding what you are looking for?”

“We’re just checking things out,” Joanna casually replies. She either didn’t get, or ignored, my sarcasm.

“You have a very nicely equipped kitchen,” Jane observes as she investigates the cabinet with various cooking implements. I haven't got a clue what most of them are for but decided not to get rid of them along with the other stuff. The engineer in me views the cooking implements as tools and you never get rid of tools. You never know when you will need one.

Anita is checking out the refrigerator. “I would have expected a bachelor to have more quick dinners and junk food. It looks like you have a lot of healthy stuff in here.”

“You should have looked in there yesterday,” I say dryly.

“Ah,” Anita says knowingly, “your mother has been busy today. I am seeing fresh fruits and vegetables, yogurt, grains, and healthy prepared meals. I bet there were frozen pizzas, frozen hamburgers, and other fast foods in here before today. And I’ll bet that you didn’t put that vase of fresh flowers on the breakfast table either.”

“You got it,” I tell her as I extract my dinner from the oven.

“That smells great,” Jane says with longing in her voice. “Is that chicken and broccoli casserole?”

I smile at her, “There’s enough here for four. Grab some plates and help yourselves. I am sure that, between you three, you know where everything is. Anita, can you get down some wine glasses? There is a bottle of white in the fridge.”

For the next half hour, we eat, talk, laugh, and generally enjoy each other’s company just like a group of old friends. I suppose that the three of them are, indeed, old friends but they generously include me as if I am just a normal part of the group. I can’t remember the last time that I had such a pleasant time with an intimate group of friends. I learn a lot more about my three guests as we chat.

It occurs to me, as we finish eating, is that I actually really liked the chicken and broccoli casserole!

As we finish up, I suggest that they go explore the master bedroom for new additions while I clean up the kitchen. Anita and Joanna are familiar with the room, having investigated it last night, so I figure that they can give the grand tour to Jane. I’m not sure that I want to see what may have appeared in the last 24 hours.

Anita decides to stay and help me with the cleanup while Joanna and Jane troop upstairs. The two women are still up there when we finish cleaning, so Anita and I go up to join them.

“What did you find?” I ask as we enter the room.

There is a very colorful array of clothing spread out on the bed.

“We found these in a drawer in the walk-in closet,” Jane explains.

To me it looks like an explosion of color. I can only guess at what some of the items are. “Tell me what we are looking at.”

“Well,” Jane gets the job of identifying everything for me, “we found a complete set of women’s exercise clothing. We have sports bras, crop tops, athletic panties, loose shorts, form fitting shorts that extend to mid-thigh, yoga pants, women’s tank style shirts, a few fitted T shirts, athletic socks of various types and a rather pretty set of trainers. They are all new, never been used.”

Joanna adds, “In the en suite, I found some hair ties and scrunchies that weren’t there yesterday.”

“And,” Jane continues, “I forgot to mention that there are a couple of leotards, a one-piece bathing suit, and a really cute bikini, all with the sales tags still attached. They are all from upscale brands.”

Jane gives me a close look, “Everything seems to be about your size, if you had the requisite body parts.”

I sigh, “It may come to that, I’m afraid.”

As one, the women engulf me in a group hug without saying anything. It is very comforting and almost makes me cry.

After breaking the hug, Jane says, “It has been a great evening, but I really should be getting home to tuck Amy in for the night. Karl, please keep me posted as this all unfolds. I am fascinated by the things that are happening to you. We know that it is not what you want, but just know that we are here to help you adjust.”

The other women express similar sentiments as they fold everything to go back in the drawer they found them it.

----<0>----

I see the women to the door and help them with their coats as they prepare to leave.

“I almost forgot,” Joanna says as they are heading out the door. “Are you still planning your football marathon on Monday?”

“Yes. Five of my guy friends have said that they’d be here,” I inform her. “And Sarah and Jim are coming. Are you still thinking of coming?”

“If the offer is still there,” she says hopefully.

“Sure,” I agree. “I’m supplying pizza and beer. Everyone else is bringing something to add to the debauchery. Come when you want, leave when you want. The first kick off is scheduled for 9 in the morning and there should be at least 12 hours of football. I should be up and ready to receive guests by 8:30.”

“Can I come too?” Anita excitedly asks.

“Sure,” I shrug my shoulders. “What about you, Jane?”

“Thanks for the offer,” she graciously declines, “but we have plans to spend the day with Amy.”

It looks as if my day with the boys is changing. I hope that they don’t mind. I better let them know that they can bring dates/wives with them.

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 5

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn It looks as if my day with the boys is changing. I hope that they don’t mind. I better let them know that they can bring dates/wives with them.

Friday Dec 30, Day 5

Today’s note is found, again, in my bathroom. Sitting next to the note is two types of moisturizing lotion; one in a large plastic bottle and the other in a small tube. There is also a small tub of cream with some French sounding name.

Good morning Karl,

Girls find rough skin to be unpleasant. Hands and feet are the worst. The cold winter weather you are experiencing will dry your skin out dreadfully. I suggest that you use the lotions provided. The larger one I would suggest that you use every morning, even though it says it is good for 48 hours. Take the smaller tube with you and rub it on your hands a couple of times a day. The lotions will keep your skin soft and supple. The smaller tub is something special just for your face. You should use it both morning and night.

Don’t neglect your exercise and remember to eat healthier than you have been.

By the way, your father says to tell you that you should talk to Jim about opening a structural department in the firm. That is your area of expertise. He thinks that your skill is being wasted on the minor structures incidental to the other projects and that you are more than capable of managing a small department.

Love, Mom and Dad

I hadn’t noticed it before reading the note, but my skin is feeling dry. As I examine the lotions, I can't help but wonder what changes they will either bring or that they foretell. I contemplate just ignoring mom's instructions again, but I get a feeling gently urging me to do as she suggests.

Resistance is futile.

Rereading the note, it occurs to me that the first sentence, “Girls find rough skin unpleasant,” could be interpreted differently from each of two perspectives. As a guy, I would assume that mom is trying give me a clue as to how to be more attractive to girls. Now that changes are happening, I can also see that if I were a new girl, mom is telling me a secret for making life better for myself as a woman. I can see, in the prior notes, where the meaning is different whether you are looking at it as a man or as a woman-in-training.

I am on to you, mom, I think to myself. But why are you doing this to me? I have never wanted to be female. Not once, that I can recall, has there been an instance where I even wondered what it was like to be a girl.

I am attracted to women just like any other man. Heck, I even lived with one for a few months.

That experience with Judy started out well. I suppose that we were both exploring the mysterious opposite gender. But then life/school got in the way, and she left me. I was upset when I found her stuff gone from our apartment and a note on the kitchen table, but on contemplation, she was probably right that I put my studies ahead of her too often. Engineering school is all encompassing and she found herself with many a lonely night while I studied or stayed late in a lab. After a few months without her, she was largely forgotten as I buckled down to fight my way through my last year of school. The point being that I have a general knowledge of female anatomy but never wanted to try it on for myself. I also have a working knowledge of the design of steel structures. I guess that I put both fields at the same level of importance.

That’s probably not accurate. I think maybe I put my engineering studies at a higher priority than my study of female anatomy.

Judy was a distraction the semester that we spent together and my grades suffered. After Judy left, I decided to put off starting another solid relationship until sometime in the future when I am established in my career. That day has not yet come.

My parents, particularly my mother, had tried to get me to readjust my priorities. It hadn’t worked. So, it looks as if they have found a way to reach out from the grave to force the issue.

So, I ask myself hypothetically, what would be wrong with being a woman? The women I know seem to not mind being women.

Before I can really delve into that question, I notice the time and realize that I will probably be a little late for work this morning. I will have to put off contemplating the answer to my question until later.

My hair now reaches a couple of inches below my shoulders. Drying it after my shower proves to be a disaster. I end up brushing it out damp and hastily get dressed, after quickly rubbing lotion on my body. I add the necklace under my shirt as I have been doing all week.

As I am wolfing down my meager breakfast of yogurt and skim milk, I receive a text from Anita on our group conversation asking if there was a note today.

I quickly run upstairs, photograph the note and lotions, and send it to the group. I do my daily selfies at the same time.

On my way out to my car, I notice my gym bag waiting by the door - again. Dang, I didn’t take time to wash my sweaty gym clothes last night. I guess that I will be a little ripe this afternoon at the gym! I am not looking forward to returning to my old gym, but a ripe smell will probably go down better than a sweet clean girly smell.

On the way to the office, my phone’s text notification sound kept pinging. Looking at my phone, after parking the car, I see that the girls were having a conversation about the impact of today’s note. Jane asked if we wanted to get together for lunch again today as she and Anita were going back to school next week and would no longer be available for a mid-day gathering.

I quickly text that I was game. Jane suggests the same place and time. Everyone quickly agrees.

Celeste gives me a look of disapproval as I pass her desk. “Mr. Bronson, if you are going to wear your hair long, you are going to need to learn how to take care of it. It will be a wonder if you don’t catch cold with that damp hair in this weather.”

“Yes, Mrs. Jenkins,” I reply properly chastened, “I will work on it.”

“And what is happening with your voice?” she enquires, “your voice has been changing all week. You sound more like a woman now.”

“It has been a rough week,” I tell her. “Is Jim available? I need to talk with him.”

“I’ll let him know that you want to see him,” Celeste informs me. “His schedule is pretty open today.”

----<0>----

“So,” Jim says contemplatively, “Your father thinks that it is time to expand. I have to admit that the notes, and what is happening to you, is creeping me out. Sometimes I think that you are making this all up as a way to cover up a purposeful transition to womanhood.”

“I assure you,” I respond, “that is not the case. I have never, not even once, contemplated becoming female. Also, a week ago I was your average geeky male engineer without a sign of femininity. How do you explain hair growth like this,” pulling at my hair, “and the change in my voice in less than a week? There is no way medically that these changes can happen this fast. And I can guarantee that I am still very much male where it counts. I am just a little more… what do you call it?”

“Androgynous is probably the word that you are looking for,” Jim informs me. “Okay, I get it. If you hadn’t kept me in the loop the past few days, I would be even more skeptical. What does your doc have to say about it?”

“I have an another appointment with him after lunch,” I tell him, “I had to give a second round of blood yesterday because the first lab results didn't make sense. Hopefully, he will have some answers today.”

“Well,” he says, “keep me in the loop. What do you think of adding structural design to our list of capabilities?”

“With all the new infrastructure money flooding the market,” I explain, “we would be more competitive if we can do more than the small incidental structures that have been a part of our current contracts. You know that I have done design work on a large high school, a shopping mall, and a few moderately sized office buildings before coming here. Since I’ve been here, it’s all been small stuff that is auxiliary to our other projects. Personally, I would like more opportunity to use my training and experience and I think that the time is right to expand the firm into that area. When I pass the licensing exam this spring, I should be able to take charge of any new structural projects.”

“You are a good kid and a damn fine junior engineer, Karl,” Jim complements me. “I am sorry that it took your parent’s deaths to bring you to us, but I glad to have you here. You have proven to be the fastest learning junior engineer that I have ever met, already becoming more capable than many engineers with a decade of experience. With a few more years of experience I can easily see you being ready to take over the management of the firm when I retire. You need that experience to gain the respect of the staff and our clients.”

“You and dad started this firm with not much more experience than I have now,” I point out.

“That is true,” Jim admits, “and we made quite a few mistakes along the way that almost did us in. Anyway, go talk with our one-person personnel office and work with her on recruiting a more senior structural engineer to work with you. I agree that the timing is good and we should start building your kingdom.”

“Oh, by the way” he adds, “What do you think of letting people go home early today if they want to as personal time off or unpaid leave? I don’t think a lot of work is getting done today.”

“I’m okay with that,” I say with a smile. “I still have a couple of things to do when I get back from my doctors appointment, so I’m not sure how early I will get out of here.”

----<0>----

Once the four of us, plus little Amy, are settled at a table, Anita excitedly asks to see my hands.

I have used the small tube of lotion twice already this morning.

“Has that ring of yours always been that loose,” Joanna asks as she examines my hands, referring to my Order of the Engineer band that I wear on the little finger of my right hand.

“I hadn’t really noticed,” I admit. “I don’t think it was that loose yesterday. Maybe it is because of the cold.”

Jane places one of her hands next to mine. “Hmm, your fingers aren’t as manly looking as Bryan’s but they are not as slender and soft as any of ours. I’d say that they are closer to being a man’s fingers.”

Anita huffs, “Well, duh! He’s only been using the lotion for a few hours. Let’s see what they look like tomorrow.”

“I guess that you are not going to be showing us your feet today,” Joanna states the obvious.

I just give her a look of “really?”

“What did you find in your master bedroom?” Jane asks.

“No time again today,” I reply.

“Oh boy!,” Anita exclaims. “Can we come over again to investigate?”

“Yeah,” agrees Joanna, “It’s either that or stay home and wash my hair. Karl, you are the best entertainment that this single girl has had in months.”

“That would be fine,” I agree. I didn’t have any plans either, other than going to the gym after work. “I need to go work out, but afterwards we can see what mom left behind. I’ll text you when I am done at the gym.”

I am not sure how I feel about being entertainment but I do get to spend time with two beautiful women. I know, I know, I indicated earlier that I didn’t care much for Joanna, but she is growing on me. As a friend.

“Jane, I am thinking of trying out that national chain gym after work.” I change topics. “How does it work?”

“Did you have problems at the Asshole Gym yesterday?” Joanna smirks.

“Let’s just say that they didn’t know what to make of me. I felt a bit out of place and uncomfortable there,” I admit.

Jane gives me an overview of the membership plan at their gym and what services and equipment they have available. She calls her husband and gets him to agree to take me as a guest tonight. I’ve met Bryan a couple of times before and he seems like a nice enough guy.

“So, Joanna,” I change the subject. “You said that your other option for tonight was to stay home and wash your hair. Funny that you should say that. I had a devil of a time trying to deal with mine this morning. Maybe you ladies can give me some tips on how to deal with this mop. A woman at the office loaned me a brush to straighten it out this morning since it was a mess when it dried.”

The rest of the lunch hour was spent getting an education on hair care.

As we are leaving, Anita inquires, “You remember my older brother, Sam?”

“Yes,” I remember him. He was two years ahead of us in school. “Didn’t he get married, join the Air Force and go to dental school?"

“That’s right,” she confirmed, “Well he has been home this week looking into joining a practice here. His wife died unexpectedly last summer from a brain tumor and he wants to move closer to home when his commitment to the Air Force is done next summer.”

“I didn’t know,” I say with compassion. Losing parents is tough, but a spouse? That must be more than hard.

“Did they have children?” I ask with concern.

“No,” she says sadly, “They had just found out that they were pregnant when she died.”

She shakes off her sadness and asks, “Can I bring him to your football party? He has been very depressed and withdrawn since Karen died and I think that it would be good for him to mingle with other people. He used to love football, but not even that excites him these days. I am not sure that he will come, but I want to ask him. He needs to get out some before he has to leave on Wednesday.”

“What’s another body,” I shrug and smile. “Tell him that he is welcome if he arrives with a six pack of beer.”

This party is getting out of control!

----<0>----

“Okay, Doc, am I going to live?” I always wanted to say that!

He rolls his eyes an suppresses a grin, “Yes, but the question is how you will live.”

“Give it to me straight, Doc.” It is hard to pass up on the cheesy lines.

He gets more serious, “Your urinalysis and blood test are perfectly normal, for the most part. The only problem is that they are normal for a woman your age. Your hormone levels match a female profile instead of that of a man. This is very odd, since you do have the male parts that generate male hormones and don’t appear to have the female organs that generate female hormones. We will be checking that today with an ultrasound. Given these strange results, I had a chromosome check done with yesterday’s blood draw. I am happy to report that you are definitely male, having both X and Y chromosomes.”

With that introduction, we go through the weigh, measure, and prod business again. This time we add an ultrasound.

“What did you find?” I ask when told to put my clothes back on.

“The ultrasound is normal, for a man,” he starts out, “so we can rule out the possibility of you being intersexed. We still don’t know the reason for the hormonal imbalance. You’ve lost another ten pounds in two days. Even if you were fasting, you wouldn’t have lost that much weight in forty-eight hours. You are eating, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I confirm, “but maybe not as much as usual and I am eating more healthy foods. If we go with the assumption that somehow my deceased mother is behind all this, then it must be her who has restocked my refrigerator and pantry with healthier foods. What is even more strange, is that I like what she's given me. For example, I came home the other night to find a broccoli and chicken casserole waiting in the freezer. When it came out of the oven, it smelled heavenly and tasted great. I hate broccoli and chicken casserole, particularly mom’s, so why do I find it appealing all of a sudden? The mysteries of this week defy explanation.”

“There are also the mysteries of your phenomenal hair growth, no more facial hair, and the continued reduction of your Adam’s apple, which explains your more feminine voice,” he added. “You are also an inch shorter than you were a couple of days ago. If I understand the history correctly, your first note said that all this would come to head on the 6th of this month."

"Can you think of anything that would stop this train?" I ask.

"I’d give you a testosterone shot," he tells me, "if I thought it would help. Unfortunately, if your story is real, I don’t think that a shot would do any good. Medical science has yet to address how to counter supernatural influences. Also, I am not an endocrinologist and I am not willing to give a shot if I don’t really know what the source of the problem is.”

Consulting his calendar, he continues, “The sixth is a week from today. I’d like you to make an appointment for then and we’ll see where you end up. Have the receptionist block out a double time slot at the start of the day.  In the meantime, call us if something drastic happens or you find yourself in pain and we will work you in, even if I have to do it after hours.”

“I will do that,” I promise.

----<0>----

Back at the office, I update Jim on the doctor’s findings and take Celeste aside and spend time telling her the whole story of my week. She already knows part of it and doesn’t believe me at first, however when I show pictures of the notes and “gifts” and explain about my voice and hair growth, she starts to come around.

----<0>----

I just barely make it to the gym at the appointed time to meet Bryan. Walking in the door I am a bit overwhelmed by all the purple with yellow trim, but the big sign on the wall declaring this to be a judgment free zone is reassuring. I am gob smacked by the huge array of exercise equipment available. After logging me in as his guest, Bryan shows me to the locker room where I am almost afraid to open my gym bag.

I am pleased to find my exercise clothes, while being the same as yesterday, are actually clean and neatly folded. I smile, hoping that this service doesn’t end on January 6th. Sitting on top of the clothes is a plain hair rubber band like thing. Which is very helpful now that my hair is down to the middle of my shoulder blades. It doesn't take a genius to figure out how to make a low ponytail.

What is really cool, was that no one gives a second look at my ponytail or at what I am wearing. After an hour of sampling the equipment, I am ready sign up for a membership, though I decide to put it off until my changes are complete.

Before leaving the gym, I send a text letting the ladies know that I am on my way. Anita texts back that she is bringing Chinese again.

----<0>----

Joanna and Anita are both pretty excited to see what has appeared in the master bedroom but control themselves through dinner. As we eat, we continue to discuss hair care in more detail than we did at lunch.

My hair has continued to grow through out the day and now extends almost to the bottom of my shoulder blades. The John Denver look is now only a memory. No matter how you look at it, my hair now definitely girly. I have started parting my hair in the middle and find myself doing that little flick of the head thing that girls do to flip hair out of my face. It is annoying. At work, I found that I needed to tuck hair behind my ear on occasion to keep it out of my face when looking down at my desk. I really need to keep a comb or brush with me to keep it straight during the day. When I mention this to the girls, they have suggestions.

“What you really need,” Anita says in a serious voice, “is a purse to carry your supplies with you during the day.” She shows me hers then empties it out on the table. She packs quite an array of supplies in a relatively small purse, most of which even I can identify.

There are the keys and wallet that you would expect. She also has a large-toothed comb. Like me, she has fairly straight hair, but hers is longer by about four inches. I wonder how long it will be until I catch up with her?

She also carries a tube of moisturizing hand lotion similar to what I received this morning, lipstick and lip gloss, and a few items that I take to be makeup. A small mirror is with the makeup.

There are also what can only be tampons, sanitary pads, and a spare panty. Oh my god, are those in my future?

She also carries her cellphone, a small note pad and a pen, breath mints, a small pocketknife, fingernail clippers, nail file, and a few other miscellaneous items.

“That’s a lot of stuff to put in that small bag,” I say in wonder. “I just carry a wallet and keys that fit nicely in my pants pockets. My cell goes in my shirt pocket.”

“You guys have it so easy,” Joanna mutters with slight disgust in her voice. “We need to carry more things around than you guys do. Also, our clothes usually don’t have any useful pockets. Our body shape makes functional pockets more difficult. Take your shirt’s breast pocket, for example. The pocket itself may look okay on a woman, but try putting something in it and things look very awkward as our breasts get in the way. Jeans back pockets are a little more functional, but the roundness of our bottoms and general tightness of our jeans make them less functional than a man’s. In other styles of pants, back pockets just totally destroy the look. So, if we want to carry things, a purse is pretty much a given.”

Anita agrees, “I’ve been carrying some type of bag, purse or small backpack, since I was twelve or thirteen. Most women I know have at least half a dozen different types for use in different situations or with specific outfits.”

I sigh, “If mom has her way, I’ll probably have a collection of my own soon. I do have a messenger bag that I use to carry my computer, papers, minor office supplies and such that I can’t carry in my pockets. I’m guessing that that is a step towards carrying a purse.”

“Not really,” Anita disagrees, “You don’t carry it around with you all the time. I bet you just carry it to get stuff to and from work.”

“True,” I admit.

“Say,” Joanna reminds us, “speaking of your mother, why don’t we go find out what surprises she dropped off today.”

When we adjourn to the master bedroom, we actually don’t find anything new. That seems strange so we widen our search.

The house has four bedrooms upstairs with the two bathrooms. Downstairs we have an entryway hall, fair size living room, a large den, the kitchen with breakfast nook, a formal dinning room, a small office, a powder room, and a mudroom with laundry facilities adjacent to the door to the two-car garage. There is a large unfinished basement with some storage, a small shop, and project workspace. It is a pretty nice house with lots of room for us to explore. It is definitely larger than I need.

We hit paydirt in the entryway hall closet. On the shelf above the coats, there are three purses of various types. I am pretty sure that they were not there after I purged the closet of my parents things. One of the purses, a black nylon crossbody shoulder bag (or so Anita tells me), is already stocked with many of the same supplies that Anita showed from her bag. Right down to the tampon and sanitary pad. There are no panties in there. I’m not sure if I should be happy about that.

“Nice bags,” Joanna says appreciatively as she looks through them. “They are all new. This is a nice starter collection that will cover most situations.”

“And of great quality too,” Anita observes. “The stuff in the black nylon crossbody bag seems to be brand new. The small wallet, however, is empty. I guess that you will need to transfer the cards and money from your wallet when you start to use this.”

“You two must be in tune with mom,” I am a little amazed. “We’re talking about purses and here they are. That is a little creepy.”

“This whole thing is creepy,” Anita happily grins, “I’ve always wanted to be involved in something supernatural.” She is practically bouncing up and down when she gives me a quick hug. “Thank you so much for including us.”

Joan just rolls her eyes and shrugs, “Yeah, it is kind of fun.”

After a thorough examination of the purses, we decide to adjourn to the den to watch a show after cleaning the kitchen and making some microwave popcorn. I get a running commentary from the girls as we watch “Mrs. Harris goes to Paris.” They occasionally pause the film to explain how a woman feels about things when I don’t seem to fully appreciate the significance of Mrs. Harris’s actions/desires.

Anita has me sit on the floor in front of her so that she can play with my hair while we watch the show. She experiments with several looks and ends up putting my hair in a loose braid as the show comes to an end.

"You know, Karl," Anita idly observes, "I think that your hair has grown another inch just since you got home. The extra length makes it easy to braid."

“If you do this before going to bed,” she educates me about the benefit of my current braid, “your hair won’t be a tangled mess in the morning.”

“You will have to teach me how to do it myself sometime,” I tell her. “Tonight, is probably not the right time as I am so tired.”

“Look it up on Youtube,” Joanna suggests. “There are tons of hair and makeup videos on Youtube.”

“I will do that,” I assure her.

Both of them give me a hug as they go out the door.

“Your braid looks nice. Don’t take it out until morning. You will text us in the morning with the next mystery, right?” Anita asks hopefully.

“No problem. I can hardly wait,” I reply with more than a hint of sarcasm.

----<0>----

As I get ready for bed, I take a personal inventory while staring in the bathroom mirror rubbing on my new moisturizer. The image staring back at me looks like a slightly softer version of my former self. I pull up a recent image that was taken as a publicity shot for the firm and compare it to what is in the mirror.

My skin is definitely clearer and softer, and my jaw line is not so rugged. It is more rounded. My Adam’s apple is virtually gone, and my neck is definitely more slender than what I have in the publicity photo.

My brow does not appear to be as pronounced as it was and my cheeks and lips appear to be fuller. My eyes are slightly less deeper set and maybe even a little bigger. It is hard to tell for sure, even looking at the photograph of my former self.

I can’t really see any drastic changes in my face, but the overall effect seems to make me appear to be more effeminate than I did at the start of the week.

My daily selfies confirm the gradual transformation. While my face is still basically masculine, the subtle changes so far are having me look vaguely like the sister that I don't have. I definitely sound like her, if she had a contralto voice.

My face is not the only thing changing. My shirt today, while the right length seems made for someone broader than I am now. The collar is definitely at least an inch too large, and the shirt is baggy on my shoulders which don't seem so broad any more. My arms have lost a lot of mass making the cuffs on my long sleeve dress shirts much looser than normal. I had to cinch up my watch band another notch today. I’ve had to do that with my belt as well since my waist appears to be slightly smaller than it was.

My one ring now rests on my dresser top since it is now too big and fell off my finger during my shower this evening. Examining my hands, I find that my fingers are definitely more slender than when we had examined them at lunch.

The only real body hair I have left is under my arms and in my groin area. There is still hair on my legs and arms but it so fine, you hardly notice it. I do notice that my legs are starting to show a hint of feminine shape.

My braided hair, touching just below the bottom of my shoulder blades, is now longer than that of many women I know. I wonder how long it is going to get. At least it is growing out nicely in an orderly fashion after Caroline's trim. It is hair that any woman would be proud of. Too bad I'm not a woman... yet.

As I finish rubbing the new moisturizer on my face, I can’t but wonder if there is some element in the cream that is accelerating the feminization process. I also rub the general moisturizer wherever I can reach. My skin is definitely smoother and softer than it was a week ago.

Strangely, and fortunately to me, my main male defining feature seems to be unaffected so far. If anything, it might be slightly more manly than before all the other changes happened. It definitely responds quickly to stimulation.

I head for bed wondering what tomorrow will bring.

I take off the topaz necklace and set it on my nightstand. I am positive that there is a very slight glow emanating from the stone after I turn off the light.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 6

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I take off the topaz necklace and set it on my nightstand. I am positive that there is a very slight glow emanating from the stone after I turn off the light.

Saturday Dec 31, Day 6

Being Saturday and New Years Eve I have a double reason to stay in bed this morning so I take advantage of the opportunity and don’t start moving until the decadent hour of eight o’clock.

Before rolling out of bed, I lay looking up at the ceiling trying to decide whether to think about all the things I need to get done today or about the deeper meaning of everything that has transpired in the last week. I am also fearing what new joys I am waking up to this morning.

Eventually, a coordinated assault by my bladder and stomach move me from my warm bed.

I don’t see a note in the bathroom as I take care of urgent needs. There is no doubt in my mind that a note exists somewhere in the house this morning. I wonder where it will be today?

As I wash my hands I look at myself again in the mirror. All the changes that I noticed last night seem slightly accentuated. The most obvious being that my hair is now almost to the middle of my back. Brushing out last night’s braid proves to take some time but it is not as bad the mess that I've had to deal with the last few mornings.

I am happy to see that I am still all male where it counts. That is reassuring, but I suspect that changes will occur there before the end of next week.

I wander down to kitchen for another light breakfast. I settle for dry whole wheat toast and coffee and find that the meager meal is sufficient.

There is no note in the kitchen either.

Surprisingly, a cursory search of the rest of the house does not turn up a note.

Anita sends a text on our group conversation asking about today’s gifts. I respond to the group that it appears that today is a bye since I haven’t found a note yet. The three ladies all express disappointment and strongly suggest that I send them the details when I do find something. They are all convinced that a note will show up at some point today.

Thinking of my to-do list, I head up to shower and to get ready for the day.

Today will be a cleaning day. I also need to stop by the liquor and grocery stores to stock up on beer and other treats for Monday’s party. Remembering tonight's New Years gathering at Jake and Sarah's house, I add finger foods to my shopping list.

After showering, I return to my room to find, sitting in the middle of my bed, a package with a note by it. On top of the package is a box of condoms. Mom was here while I was in the shower. I can't say that I am surprised by the intrusion.

The package label declares itself to be a four pack of “Womens Cotton Boxer Briefs Boy Shorts Panties with a 4.5” inseam”. I can see the four pastel colors through the wrapping: baby blue, light green, pink and orange (probably peach).

I pick up the note, curious to see what mom has to say about this morning’s gifts.

Dearest Karl,

As you have already concluded, you are indeed transforming into a female. There is a reason for this. It will all come clear on the day of Epiphany. You will still be a functioning male for a few more days, so if you want to have one last sexual fling as a male, I suggest that you get to it. Maybe you can talk one of your new single girl friends into some casual sex. I can understand if they aren’t interested, but women have sexual needs too and both of them have been alone for some time now. Just be sure to use the condoms when you do have sex. Pregnancy is best reserved for a committed relationship where the child can be raised by loving parents.

Anyway, you are probably wondering about the women’s underwear. These are the most masculine panties that I could find to help you with your transformation. They should be comfortable enough, even with your male equipment, and not look overtly feminine.

As you may have noticed, your father hasn’t been helping with the feminine aspect of your changes. Men are so nervous about all things feminine. Regardless, he sends his love and fully supports what is happening.

Know that we both love you dearly,

Mom

There is no way that I will send this note to the ladies! However, knowing that they will never forgive me if I don’t say something, I text them that a note and gifts appeared in my room while I was showering. I confirm that mom admitted to my feminization and told me that I would be female by the end of the week. I send a picture of the package of underwear with the text.

Jane: Where’s the note?

Me: I am not sending it. 2 personal.

Joanna: Girl friends share everything with each other.

Anita: That’s right girl friend (soon 2 be). We are here for you. Send the note.

Me: R U sure? You will probably be sorry.

I get a resounding Yes back from all three.

Me: You asked for it. And to be clear, I am not propositioning anyone here. Mom is.

I text them all a picture of the note. While I wait for replies, I start getting dressed for the day.

A quick peek in my underwear drawer shows that my male boxers gone. No real surprise there. Sighing, I decide that the feminine boxers are the only option, short of going commando, for now and slip on the baby blue pair.

The lady boxers don’t fit too well, they are loose around my butt and snug around the waist, but they are not uncomfortable. They are very stretchy and conform reasonably well to what shape that I do have. The only real issue is the lack of an opening up front. I will have to take them down to urinate. I suppose that that will be a fact of life soon anyway.

Pulling on some old comfortable jeans (now somewhat too big since I lost so much weight this week) and a sweatshirt, I start into a thorough cleaning of the house.

I remember to take my selfies before starting the housework.

----<0>----

By noon, the entire house has been vacuumed, the sheets on my bed are changed, the floors without carpet have been mopped, the kitchen cleaned, the house dusted.

While in the master bedroom, I checked for new gifts. Sure enough, my mother’s old underwear drawer has a generous supply of brand new women’s panties in various styles, fabrics, colors, and patterns, all neatly folded and arranged according to some system that I can't quite figure out. The appearance of feminine underwear in mom's drawer is not really a surprise as I was sort of expecting to find it after the gift of underwear I received earlier.

I still haven’t heard anything back from the ladies. They are, strangely, being quiet about today's note.

There are two major bowl games on this afternoon. Both games are semi-finals for the college football national championship with the winners going to the championship game on January ninth. I finish my house cleaning before the first game between Michigan and TCU begins. Strangely, once I am settled in to watch the game, I find that I not as captivated by the contest as I would have expected and use the time to neatly fold my laundry while absently watching the game.

At half time I decide to make a quick trip to the store to finish my shopping for Monday's party. I run up against a problem when I try to hide the length of my ponytail under my winter coat. It turns out that wearing a pony tail under your coat is not exactly comfortable. The coat pulls at the hair as I move around. I am tempted to let my hair hang outside my coat, but I am more willing to live with the discomfort than show my glorious hair to the world.

While busy in the house, I have ignored the weather outside. As I pull out of the garage, I find that it is lightly snowing again. There is already a new inch of the stuff on the ground. The weather report on the car radio says to expect another inch before the storm passes later today. Not a lot of snow, but enough to mess up traffic.

What is it with people that makes them turn into idiots (more than usual) behind the wheel when there is a little snow on the road?

The stores are crowded with seemingly the whole town getting supplies for tonight’s festivities.

I had notified my original football party guests that our gathering was going to be coed and that they were welcome to bring a plus one with them. Surprisingly, all of them had welcomed the change and are bringing dates. The party is going to be crowded and I need plenty of supplies. The car is well loaded with numerous bags of assorted chips, a couple of vegetable trays, dips, and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks as I head to the liquor store. I ask the female clerk about beers that might appeal to my women guests and end up buying a couple of cases of a French beer described as being “light but super flavorful, fruity, very refreshing and easy to drink”. The clerk assures me that the ladies will love it. Of course, I don’t neglect getting a variety of our more traditional beers for the guys.

----<0>----

I am in the middle of my shopping when I next hear from the ladies. I was beginning to think that they had all run for the hills after reading mom’s note.

Joanna’s text simply asks: Karl, are you going to Sarah and Jakes’ party tonight?

I reply in the affirmative.

Joanna: I will see you there.

Jane: You 2 enjoy yourselves.

Anita: I will come tomorrow afternoon to help you prepare for Monday's party.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It seems that they were not offended by mom’s note and are just ignoring the sex part. I am okay with that, even though part of me finds the thought of a romp in bed appealing. It would be a good way to spend the rest of the weekend. This weekend is also likely to be the last time I can enjoy such pleasures as a man.

Soon after I get home the snow lets up, so I spend time clearing off the drive and walkways at my house and my neighbors. I end up missing most of the first quarter of the Georgia vs. Ohio State game.

----<0>----

“Why are you wearing a wig?” Sarah asks me in confusion when she greets me at the door.

I realize that I haven’t kept her and Jake in the loop this week. My now really long low ponytail is very obvious.

“It is not a wig,” I assure her, “And it is a long story.”

“It certainly looks long,” she quips. “There is no way that you could have grown it out that long in a week. And what has happened to your voice?”

We are interrupted by the arrival of another guest.

“I will tell you about it later,” I promise her.

About ten minutes later I run into Jake who has been off finishing up some party preparations.

“What’s with the hair, man?” Jake curiously asks as he welcomes me to the party. “And have you been losing weight? You look different, dude.”

“It been a really strange week,” I tell him.

“Oh wow,” Jake exclaims, “What happened to your voice?”

I just sigh. I suspect that everyone is curious.

Joanna chooses this moment to appear from the kitchen where she has been helping Sarah with the snacks. She is dressed to the nines, looking hot in a rather short cocktail dress. I look pretty casual by comparison, wearing nice slacks and a shirt that hangs loosely on my shoulders.

“Karl has been having an experience with the supernatural this week,” she tells Jake in a voice loud enough for all present to hear.

The conversations around us suddenly stop.

Joanna continues, looking at me with a grin on her face. “His mother has been writing him notes from the grave every day. She has also been slowly making some changes in his life. She says that the changes will continue over the twelve days of Christmas. The hair is only one of the changes, but it is phenomenal. What you see has all grown out this week. If you look at him closely, you will notice other changes. According to his mother’s notes, he should be a she by this time next week.”

“Thanks, Joanna,” I reply sarcastically as I blush a bright red.

“Show them the pictures,” Joanna encourages me.

Her announcement starts a round of very embarrassing questions. In the end I relate the whole story, leaving out mom’s suggestions from today’s notes. I do end up having to pull out my phone to show the pictures of the notes and gifts from the week. I delete the pictures of today’s note and gifts before passing my phone around for people to see.

“So, Karl,” Jake asks, “is this why Monday’s party coed?”

“Partly,” I admit. “Also, I’ve been spending time with Joanna and Anita this week and they wanted to come. They’ve been a big help assisting me with dealing with mom’s shenanigans.”

The responses to the announcement are interesting. There is a faction that is intrigued and wants to know the details of the transition. Others give me some distance, maybe afraid that it is contagious. Others aren’t convinced that this is a supernatural experience. This group seems convinced that I am transitioning with hormones and that I will be getting surgery this week.

The supernaturalists point out that there is no way that I could have grown this hair in a week by either natural or chemical means. Several women take a close look at my scalp and confirm that it is all my own hair and not hair extensions. My now feminine voice is also held up as evidence of the supernatural. Several people are forward enough to feel my throat to confirm the loss of my Adam’s apple.

People start to look closer. My closest friends notice that my face has changed and that I seem to have lost a significant amount of weight. Someone notices the looseness of my shirt collar and how my shoulders no longer fill out the shirt. I sort of look like a girl wearing her boyfriend’s shirt except that I don’t have any of the curves of a woman.

After about an hour of being the main event, people start to wander off for other discussions. I am a little surprised at how fast the novelty seems to wear off.

Once the crowd dissipates, Joanna comes up to me and whispers in my ear, “Are you wearing your boy short panties?”

I roll my eyes, “As if I have a choice.”

“This I have to see,” she says with a gleam in her eye. “Mind if I sleep over at your house tonight, big guy?”

I am gob smacked and don’t know what to say.

“Cat got your tongue?” she asks seductively.

Rebooting my brain, I reply as nonchalantly as possible when shaken to the core, “Sure, there’s plenty of room and I will show you mine if you show me yours.”

“It’s a date,” she grins back at me before wandering off to visit with some other guests, leaving me in shock. I really thought that mom’s suggestion was asking too much of my friends.

Before I can really process what just happened, an old school friend of mine, John, approaches me, “You look like you just been broadsided, buddy. What did she say?”

“It was nothing,” I replied shaking off my shock. “She is just trying to shake me up.”

“It looks like she succeeded,” John laughs, “So tell me more about this transition.”

John and I chat for a while with him asking all sorts of questions about my transition and how I feel about it, some of which I haven’t suitably addressed myself yet. It is only after he moves on to another conversation that I remember that John went into Journalism in college and now works for the local weekly paper, such that it is. I hope that my transition doesn’t make the local gossip column. Both of their subscribers might actually read the article.

----<0>----

It is a couple of minutes to midnight when Joanna appears next to me and slips her arm through mine.

“Are you ready for some fireworks, stud,” she seductively whispers in my ear. “I’m really looking forward to helping you celebrate the end of your manhood. How about we slip out of here after the midnight hoopla? You head out first and I will follow about 10 minutes later.”

My response is interrupted by everyone counting down to the beginning of the New Year.

When the countdown concludes everyone grabs the nearest member of the opposite gender for a kiss. Joanna about sucks my lungs out as her tongue finds its way into my mouth. Her hand also finds its way to my crotch where she gives my hardened manhood a squeeze.

“There’s more where that came from,” she grins a hungry grin before wandering off leaving me to conceal an uncomfortable bulge in my trousers.

I wait until the first guests start to leave before making my excuses and head for the door.

“Hey Karl,” Jake says as he shakes my hand, “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk.” He has been busy taking care of the dozen or so guests all evening. “This transition stuff really sucks. Maybe we should talk about this more at your party on Monday.”

“Will do,” I tell him, “I really need to talk about all this with a guy for a change.”

I walk out the door to what promises to be an interesting second half of the night.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 7

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn “Hey Karl,” Jake says as he shakes my hand, “Sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk.” He has been busy taking care of the dozen or so guests all evening. “This transition stuff really sucks. Maybe we should talk about this more at your party on Monday.” “Will do,” I tell him, “I really need to talk about all this with a guy for a change.” I walk out the door to what promises to be an interesting second half of the night.

Sunday Jan 1, Day 7

Light is already streaming into my parent’s bedroom window as I awake to someone spooned up behind me and stroking my stiffened manhood. Neither one of us has clothes on.

I am suddenly fully awake trying to figure out what’s happening.

A soft feminine giggle sounds in my ear, “Are you awake now, lover?”

It takes a couple of seconds to orient myself. I am in my parent’s bed with a woman. A smile starts to spread across my face as I recall the after party. Joanna has turned out to be a very lively and imaginative bedmate. And yes, she did show me hers when I showed her mine. I think that we went through about half a dozen condoms before falling into an exhausted sleep. I didn’t think that I had that much stamina.

“I am now,” I tell her as I roll over to gaze into her smiling face. “But I really need to use the facilities.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” I beg her, “I will be right back.”

She is sitting up leaning naked against the headboard waving another condom at me when I return. “Are you up for another round?” she grins at me, “There is something else that I would like to try.”

There is only one thing a guy can say in a situation like this: “Yes!”

----<0>----

An hour and a half, and two condoms, later I finally cry uncle. There is only so much that a guy can produce! She just smiles and informs me that I don’t have to penetrate her to bring her to climax, then guides me in ways that I can bring her satisfaction without penetration.

----<0>----

By 11 AM we are laying in bed, both exhausted from our late night and all morning sexual gymnastics.

She rolls over on an elbow and takes a long look at me.

“What?” I ask her.

“I was watching you sleep this morning,” she tells me. “When I looked at you covered, you looked just like a woman sleeping. When I reached under the covers, however, I found a very pleasing male appendage. I am amazed at your changes over so short of a time. How can you be taking this transformation so calmly? Aren’t you freaked by what’s happening to you?”

She reaches under the covers to again stroke my manhood. It feels good, but there is nothing left in the tank, so to speak.

“For one thing,” I say rolling over on my side and reaching out to fondle one of her breasts, “What you are doing now isn’t going to bring life back to my cock. You’ve drained every drop out of it.”

“Just so you know,” she tells me with a smile as I roll a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, “if you keep doing that, you will have to follow it up with some more intense activity.”

I let go, but give her erect nipple a soft kiss before leaning back to look at her. She maintains her light grip on my flaccid cock.

“You ask me why I’m not more freaked out by these changes,” I respond to her question. “For the record, I am at least mildly freaked out. Before Christmas, the thought of changing gender had never entered my mind. In fact, I have rarely given gender much thought at all. It just hasn't been a priority.

"Over the years, I have included quite a few girls and women in my circle of friends and valued colleagues but not because of their gender. Then Judy came along. Judy was a failed experiment in a gender centered relationship. After the fiasco with Judy, I guess that I see intimate relations as distractions from getting established in my career. You may have been partly right the other day when you said that I was an asexual geek.”

“Didn’t you have crushes on girls when we were in school?” she asks with curiosity.

“Sure, I did,” I admit, “But mostly you all scared me.”

“Scared you?” Joanna looks confused. “How can that be?”

“Take yourself, Joanna,” I use her for an example. “You always came across confident and in charge.”

I give her nipple another soft kiss.

“Like our time in bed together,” I continue. “You have to admit that you have taken the lead in our sexual experimentation. Sure, I suggest a few things, but you know what you want and how to get it. Sometimes, in school, you came across a little overbearing. You were scary. I have to admit that I avoided you even though I did have a crush on you for a while. I was surprised the other day when you admitted to having had a crush on me. I have to admit that I was just a little heartbroken when you took up with that football player, Bob. When he started to brag about taking your virginity, I was very disappointed that you’d take up with such a jerk. Anyway, yes, you and most other girls intimidated me.”

“So, what does this have to do with my original question?” She looks confused. “Why aren’t you freaking out?”

“As I tried to say, since I was intimidated by girls and had a bad intimate relationship in college, I haven’t ever made a big deal about gender. It has been easier to treat everyone as people. Gender, race, orientation, none of it has ever really mattered to me. My priorities have been focused on my career and getting the job done since as long as I can remember. I judge people on how well they work together and how much they contribute to their team. I am guessing that, since gender never really enters into my relationships with others, then why should my gender matter?

“As I have thought about all this, if nothing else, I am learning about a whole new culture. It is like cracking another problem. I like problem solving and adjusting to a new reality is another interesting problem to solve, even if it is unexpected. Does this make any sense to you?”

“Not really,” she admits, “Most guys I know would be freaking out about now. They would be turning every stone trying to find a way to stop and reverse the changes. I don’t know if I could cope nearly as well as you if I were to transform into a man.”

“Even if it is out of your control?” I ask.

“Especially when it outside my control,” she says emphatically. “I really don’t like other people forcing me to do anything. I’ve had enough experience with people telling what I can and can’t do because I am a woman. Many of those same people, mainly asshole men, seem to think that they can dictate my life just because I am a female. I am proud to be a woman. I get great pleasure out of sticking it to the Neanderthals that some women insist on marrying.

“Not only that, but I like being feminine. Not for some man’s sake, but for my own. I like pretty things. I like dressing well. I like being free to express my feelings. I like the closeness of women friends. As near as I can tell, men rarely have friendships as close as women do.”

“You might be right about the friendships between men,” I admit. “I don’t have any really close friends who I can share things with. Jake suggested that he and I have a chat at tomorrow’s party, but I can guarantee that, if it happens, the talk will be superficial. And his is my best friend!

“However, when I think of my parents, I think that the relationship between a husband and wife can be stronger than any other bond, if they nurture it. I just don’t know how to do it, and haven’t made establishing such a relationship a priority.”

“Obviously,” she sighs, “I don’t know how either. I have a rather poor track record with men. If great sex were the main criteria for a marriage, then you and I should go see a preacher today. Last night, and this morning, have been mind blowing. I don't have a lot of sexual experience, but I can't imagine it getting any better.”

“It has been fantastic,” I agree with a grin as I reach out to give her breast a fondle.

“Most women that I represent tell me that their relationships started out with great sex,” Joanna tells me as she playfully swats at my hand. “However, how a couple treats each other outside the bedroom seems to have more impact on the strength of the relationship. My own parents had that problem. Mom tells me that she fell head over heals in love with Dad when they first met and they had a great sexual relationship when they got married. Then, not long afterwards, Dad started treating mom more as an employee/slave. He never got physically abusive and was a great provider, but he was emotionally distant, taking more interest in things outside the home than in her. They sort of drifted apart. Mom eventually established her own support network separate from the family. I was the youngest child and when I graduated from High School, they had nothing left in common. One day, my mom came home from work realizing that there wasn’t anything there for her anymore. She was getting more satisfaction out of her work and hobbies that did not include dad. She didn’t need him anymore. Without talking to him, she rented an apartment and moved out one weekend when dad was off on a hunting trip with his buddies. She tells me that he probably wouldn’t have noticed she was gone except no one was fixing his meals or cleaning his clothes.”

“That’s sad,” I empathize with her. “My parents both worked hard to put each other first. Their relationship was not always smooth, but they worked together to fix the rough patches.”

“Well, lover,” she smiles at me and giving my cock a playful squeeze. “The sex has been great, but we are a long way from establishing the type of relationship your parents had. If your mothers’ notes are anything to go by, we won’t have time to develop such a relationship.”

“Speaking of notes,” I sigh, “As much as I love laying around with a beautiful naked woman, maybe we should get cleaned up and go looking for today’s note.”

She gives me a soft kiss then giggles and races to the bathroom. I soon follow and we clean each other in the shower. It takes a bit longer than I usually take.

After our shower she shows me how to appropriately dry my hair. We have more giggles moisturizing each other’s bodies.

We both stand naked in front of the mirror before getting dressed.

"Karl," Joanna observes, "I am sure that you look a lot more feminine than you did when we got here last night. Your face is a much better match for your voice and long hair. Definitely a woman's face. Not exactly pretty, but if the changes continue on their current trajectory, you should be really cute."

Looking closely at our reflections, I sigh. "The scales say that I've lost almost forty pounds in the last week. My overall body structure seems to be more feminine except that I don't have your curves."

Joanna grins as she reaches over to fondle my cock, "Not everything is feminine. And you don't look at all pudgy anymore. I will have to hate you if you turn out like a supermodel."

"You have nothing to complain about," I assure her as I give her a playful pat on the bum. "You were always one of the prettiest girls in our class and nothing seems to have changed that. You were so sexy at the party last night that you had pretty much all the guys lusting after you. I was happy to be the lucky one to take you to bed. I saw Jake get an elbow in the ribs from Sarah at least once when he stared at you a little too long."

She smiles and gives me a quick peck on the lips, "Thanks for the complement, lover, it is nice to know that your eye sight is suffering too!"

Joanna has brought some casual clothes for herself. I pick out my light green boy short panties and cover them with the same jeans and sweatshirt I wore for house cleaning yesterday. My jeans don't fit right as they are way too big around my waist, so I end up switching to more comfortable sweat pants with a draw string.

I add today’s selfies to my growing collection of self-portraits.

Today will be spent putting the finishing touches on the preparations for tomorrow’s football binge.

Once dressed, we go in search of today’s note and gift.

We find two notes. One is beside a pair of girly socks and a flannel nightshirt in my bedroom laying on the twin bed. The other is accompanied by a small box with a bow on it.

Dear Karl,

Your dad and I are so happy that you have gotten closer to Joanna. She is a special woman. But then again, so is Anita. They will both be great friends, as will Jane, as you settle into your new reality. Treat them well and they will stand by you in your trials, as you should stand by them in their times of need.

The weather is getting colder. When you are home alone, nothing makes a girl feel cozier than a warm nightgown, fun warm knee socks, and a cup of hot chocolate.

Love, Mom

The note for Joanna reads:

Dearest Joanna,

We can’t tell you how much we appreciate you assisting Karl with his transition. He will soon need to adjust his legal identity. We hope that you will help with that.

Please accept the gift as a show of our appreciation for all that you have done for Karl.

With love, Karl’s mother

P.S. Keep your heart open. Your soul mate will soon cross your path and if your heart and mind are not open to new possibilities, then you might just miss your chance.

Opening the box, Joanna finds a topaz necklace. While not exactly the same as mine, the two are obviously similar. Her necklace also has that slight glow that I have noticed in mine.

“I don’t know if I should wear this,” Joanna eyes the jewelry suspiciously. “After all, look at what yours is doing to you. I’m afraid of it.”

I laugh, “I can understand that!”

I photograph the notes and my new clothes then text all but Joanna’s note and gift to our group conversation.

Jane: Nice. The nightgown looks very comfy.

Anita: I want one too!

Taking a look around the master bedroom, we find a dresser drawer with a wide variety of sleepwear. Everything from comfy flannel nightgowns to flimsy see through baby-doll nighties (with matching panties). It would seem that I now have all the sleepwear that a girl could want. The sock drawer is also full of a large assortment of foot coverings.

We work together to change the sheets on last night’s bed and toss them in the washer before fixing a light brunch of coffee, fresh fruit, toast and yogurt. We spend the time chatting about our work lives and what we like to do in our spare time, not that either of us have much of that as entry level professionals. We know a lot more about each other when we are done.

As we are finishing the kitchen clean up and start to organize snacks for tomorrow, the doorbell rings.

Opening the door, I am surprised to see Anita standing at the door with an overnight bag in hand.

My surprise must have been evident as she gives me a small smile and finger wave, “Hello Karl. I hear that you are having a sleepover. I can’t wait to see you in your new nightgown.”

Joanna comes up behind me, “Hey girl friend, you are early. Come on in.”

“Early?” I asked confused as I help Anita with her coat once she is inside.

“Yes, Karl,” Joanna says with her normal confidence. “We flipped on it yesterday to see who got you first. I won. Tonight, it’s Anita’s turn.”

“I hope you didn’t wear him out,” Anita gives Joanna a mock glare.

“I don’t think so,” Joanna grins back at her. “He recharges quickly.”

“Wait a minute here,” I say confused. “You both wanted to sleep with me?”

“Of course,” Anita says as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “As your mom said in yesterday’s note, it has been a while since these two ladies have had their sexual itch scratched. What safer way to do it than with a great guy who is not going to be trying to claim us as his property just because we had sex with him?”

“Neither of us are normally into casual sex,” Joanna informs me, “but you are a special case.”

“Well, Joanna,” Anita seems to ignore me, “What do you think?”

“Mind blowing,” Joanna grins. “He’s really good at doggy position.”

“That is one of my favorites!” Anita claps her hands in glee. “I can hardly wait.”

I wonder just how many condoms I have left.

As if reading my mind, Anita pulls a new box of condoms out of her purse. “I hope that I brought enough!”

The ladies just grin at each other.

I wonder if I will be up to the challenge. I am almost looking forward to the change in gender. It might be easier being on the receiving end!

----<0>----

I get a couple of hours to recharge as we finish up preparations for the big event tomorrow. We work together to take down the Christmas tree and return all the decorations to their boxes in the garage, then we do a thorough cleaning of the downstairs rooms.

Once the girls declare that all is ready, Joanna fondles my stiffened cock through my pants as she gives me one last kiss. “Don’t go easy on her,” she whispers in my ear, then heads out the door.

Anita looks like a little girl eager to open her Christmas presents. The door is hardly closed before she starts running her hands over my body. She eagerly starts to work my pants off me. I soon discover that she isn’t wearing any underwear under the long skirt she is wearing today.

We don’t even make it upstairs for the first round. It is amazing what a couple can do on the living room couch.

As evening settles, we surface long enough to fix a light chicken pasta dinner with a green salad. It turns out that Anita makes an amazing Caesar salad. We play around feeding each other across the breakfast table while we talk about a wide range of topics, just getting to know each other better.

“Karl,” she says, “Thanks for letting me stay over. You are doing a lot to restore my faith in men. My last boyfriend was almost enough for me to give up on your gender.”

“Glad to be of service,” I smile at her.

“It is too bad that you are becoming a woman,” she says with a sigh. “There are not enough good men out there for us single gals. Sure, there are plenty of men who are good at sex, or think they are and want to prove it, but not many who know how to treat a woman with respect. You have always treated the women around you as equals. Do you know how rare that is?”

“Joanna was saying something about that this morning,” I mention.

“Yes, she should know,” Anita agrees. “She has to deal with scumbags every day. At least she gets to stick it to them.”

“Do all women have as low of an opinion of men as you and Joanna?” I inquire.

Anita just shrugs her shoulders in reply.

----<0>----

After dinner, she insists that I slip into my new nightgown and socks. She has a similar arrangement. After I am dressed, she lifts up the nightgown and critically examines the lay of my green panties.

“Not the best fit,” she comments. “Your butt is too small, your waist too big, and that bulge up front really destroys the image.

"If you are going to become a woman your body will need to go through a lot more obvious changes than it has. Some curves and breasts will be necessary. You won’t be able to hide a nice pair of breasts under your dress shirt. I think that your changes of the next few days are going to be awkward.”

“I thought that you liked that bulge up front,” I smile at her.

“Oh, I really do,” she grins back. “But not on a girl and in that nightgown, you look more like a woman, except for the flat chest. You have a face, arms, legs, hands, and feet that are more woman than man. It’s all the stuff in the middle that is desperately in need of updating if you are going to be a female.”

We curl up on the couch together sipping hot chocolate and watching some romantic classic. I don’t see much of the movie. We lose our clothes at some point and I love licking strategically applied whipped cream from her body. She particularly likes it when I get to some sensitive places and apply the techniques that Joanna taught me for pleasing a woman without penetration.

She gets to experience my skill with the doggy position too. Several times.

As we fall asleep in each other’s arms later that evening, I think of how good it is to have friends.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 8

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn As we fall asleep in each other’s arms later that evening, I think of how good it is to have friends.

Monday Jan 2, Day 8

It is Game Day.

I expect my first guests to arrive shortly after 8:30 AM in anticipation of the 9 o’clock kick off of the Reliaquest Bowl in Florida.

The alarm goes off at 6:00 AM, just like a workday. It is doubly hard to get up this morning after a long weekend with short nights.

We only have time for sex once in the shower as we get ready for the day. Anita seems genuinely disappointed that there is not time for more.

As we playfully dry each other off, Anita takes another close look at my body.

“You know, Karl,” she informs me, “I think that you are now more female than male. Your voice is now about the same pitch as mine. You sound 100% female. I think that we can also safely say that your face is pretty much there too. You look like a female version of your old self from the shoulders up with a really cute, upturned nose and beautiful almond shaped eyes that are to die for. I can’t wait to see what they look like with mascara and eyeliner. Your lips are a little plumper too - I think guys refer to lips like yours as being kissable. I am sure that your shoulders and chest are not as broad as they used to be. Your torso may be a bit shorter too and you have lost a lot of weight. Also, I think that your hair growth has slowed. It is only grown a half inch or so since I arrived yesterday. It is now down to the small of your back - a good length for a woman who likes long hair.

“Have you ever heard the term ‘Shemale’?”

“Yes,” I sigh, “when I look in the mirror that is what I see. It is pretty weird. A woman with a penis, no shape, and no breasts. It must be difficult for you when we are making love.”

“It is,” she admits, “a truly unique experience. When I see your face or hear your voice, I think woman, but when I feel your wonderful cock thrusting into me, all I can think is: here is a man who really knows how to use his equipment. I think that that is why I like doggy position best; I feel you but don’t see the woman behind me.”

She takes another long thoughtful look at me, “I bet that if we put you in a loose gown and a bra with something to fill the cups out, that everyone would think that you are just a tall woman. I would guess that you are about 5’ 9”, not an unreasonable height, just taller than most women.”

“Interesting assessment,” I relent with a sigh.

Looking in the mirror, I have to agree with her.

“Do you want to try it?” she asks hopefully.

“Not today,” I try to dampen her enthusiasm. “It is game day. It is time for comfortable clothes to lounge in front of the TV with.”

She pouts at me then changes the subject, “Where will we find your note today?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I shrug.

Pulling on our nightgowns, we go searching for the today's note.

We soon find two notes in my old bedroom just as Joanna and I had yesterday.

Mine is accompanied by a pair of women’s Sketchers walking shoe sneakers, a pair of multicolor feminine athletic knee socks, my pink boy short panties, a light grey pair of femininely tailored sweatpants, and an oversized football jersey from my alma mater.

“It looks like your mother has chosen your clothes for today,” Anita observes. “This is so cool. It would be nice to have my own supernatural assistant to make sure that I have what I need each day!”

“What does your note say?” she asks curiously.

Dear Karl,

Give Anita a hug for us. She is another very special woman. We appreciate her efforts to help you with your adjustment. There is still a lot more that she can teach you about being a woman since I won’t be there to guide you.

You will find the clothes that I laid out for you to be very comfortable as you and your friends binge on football today.

Love, Mom

A package similar to the one Joanna received yesterday is sitting with Anita’s note.

Dear Anita,

Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to our child. You are a very special lady with a big heart, which is why you are such a great teacher.

Please wear our gift to you often and good things will happen soon.

With Love, Karl’s mother

Anita’s present turns out to be a topaz necklace, almost identical to Joanna’s.

The topaz sparkles as Anita holds it up to the light for inspection. “Very pretty,” she admires the necklace.

“Joanna got one too,” I mention. “She is leery of wearing hers, afraid of what it might do to her.”

“She just likes to worry,” Anita dismisses Joanna’s concern as she puts on her new necklace.

“Oh, look at the time!” I exclaim.

I quickly photograph the notes and my pile of clothing and send the daily text out to Joanna and Jane.

Jane: It looks as if our newest sorority member is going to be comfortable today.

Joanna: See you soon.

----<0>----

We spend the next hour getting dressed, changing the sheets on the bed, and generally clearing all the evidence of our debauchery. Today, Anita takes my daily images for me. They are much better than the selfies that I have been taking.

As she is emptying the bathroom waste basket, she points to the small pile of used condoms.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “If you deposit some of your sperm in a sperm bank, then later you could use it to become the mother of your own child.”

“That is assuming that I become a fully functional woman,” I point out.

“I think that your mother wants grandkids,” Anita informs me with a grin. “I am pretty sure that you will be worrying about falling pregnant before too long.”

"Well," I tell her, "IF I ever fall pregnant, the baby will have two loving parents, not one. There is no need to save the sperm, though it is an interesting idea."

----<0>----

It is when we peek in the master bedroom walk-in closet that we find the rest of today’s gifts. The previously empty shoe rack is filled with various styles of footwear. I am not looking forward to learning to walk in the heeled shoes, even though Anita assures me that none of them are all that tall.

"There isn't anything over three inches here," she points out. “Being a tall woman, you don’t need anything bigger.”

There is also a box on a shelf containing an array of nylon hosiery.

Looking in the underwear drawer, we find a couple of garter belts.

“Sexy,” Anita smiles as she holds one up for inspection. “And look, there are coordinated bikini panties and bras to go with them. And a thong too.”

Further investigation shows that my old male socks and shoes are all gone. Oh well, I think, the shoes have been getting looser every day. I’m sure that they would no longer fit my newly femininized feet.

----<0>----

Under Anita’s supervision, I work at braiding my hair. She braided her hair in less than a minute. She patiently works with me as I struggle with mine. I get it close enough to right on the fourth try.

“It will get easier the more you do it,” she assures me. “When you get the basics down, I can show you how to French braid your own hair. It looks much more sophisticated.”

I sigh as I think about all the new skills that I’ll be learning over the next while.

We are just finishing up my hair lesson when the doorbell rings announcing my first guest. It turns out to be Joanna.

“Hey there lover boy,” She winks at me, “or should I say girl? You are looking a lot more feminine today.”

Turning to Anita, she asks with a grin, “Did you have a good night?”

“It was amazing,” Anita confirms with a very satisfied smile.

I just blush.

Hugs are shared all around, and the girls head into the kitchen to check on the snacks or, more likely, to compare notes on their recent sexual experiences. Women are like that, I hear.

I can hear giggling from the kitchen.

The next guests are a guy from work with a date. He is about four years out of school, like me, and should be sitting for his professional licensing exam with me in April.

It turns out that the woman accompanying him is not his date after all.

“Is this Karl Bronson’s house?” my coworker/employee asks when I answer the door. He is holding some kind of casserole dish.

“Come in George,” I sigh and hold the door open and take the food from him, “Who is your friend?”

“This is my sister Diana,” looking confused, he introduces his companion. “Are you Karl’s sister? You look a lot like him.”

“Nice to meet you Diana,” I greet the pretty brunette and introduce myself. “I am Karl Bronson, and no, I don’t have a sister. I’ve been undergoing a supernatural transformation over the past week.”

“No way,” George exclaims. “I was with you in a meeting last Tuesday and you were definitely male then. What happened? Are you on hormones or something?”

Diana looks me over thoughtful, “There is no way that hormones can change a guy into a girl in less than a week, George."

Addressing me, she says, "Karl, I am a nurse and everything I know about hormones says that there is no way that you can create such a feminine facial appearance with just hormone treatment. It takes surgery. Lots of surgery. And there is no way that you would be recovered if you had had surgery since your meeting on Tuesday. You have to be Karl’s sister.”

Joanna and Anita show up while Diana is talking.

“We can certify that this is Karl,” Joanna grins a mischievous grin, “Anita and I have been seeing him almost every day for the past week, watching the transformation take place. We have checked him out thoroughly.”

“Very thoroughly,” Anita says with a sly grin.

Joanna pats me on the butt and points out, “No woman has a bum this small.”

Anita runs her hand over my chest, “No woman has a chest this flat.”

Joanna gets a questioning look on her face and runs her hand over my butt again. “Karl, I think it is growing!”

I blush and swat their hands away, difficult to do when balancing a casserole dish on one hand. I make it work particularly when Joanna starts to reach for my crotch. “Down ladies. Why don’t you two take this into the kitchen?”

They both pout for a moment before breaking out in giggles as I hand them the casserole. “Spoil sport.”

“Anyway, don’t mind the two psychopaths,” I finish the greeting. “Make yourselves comfortable. We have a snack buffet in the kitchen, beers and sodas in the refrigerator, with more on the deck in a cooler. We have two TVs going and you have your choice of seats since you beat everyone else here. The bathroom is down the hall there on the right.”

The guests filter in as the first kick off time approaches. I go through variations of the same explanation which each new arrival. Some of my guests were at the New Year’s party so they aren’t quite so surprised by my appearance, though they are surprised to see how much I've changed in just over of a day and to see me completely decked out in women’s clothing.

I endure the comments and inquiries, all the while hoping that the novelty wears off soon and that we can just focus on the games.

I am in the kitchen working with several of the women arranging the snack buffet, when Diana says, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t call you Karl. You don’t look like a Karl. Do you have feminine name?”

“Ah, no?” I reply slightly taken aback. I should have thought of this.

Another of the women eagerly suggests, “I think that you look like a Heidi. You kind of look like a Heidi that I once knew.”

I scrunch up my nose at that suggestion. I knew a Heidi in grade school, and she was a prissy little drama queen. Nope. Heidi won’t work.

Just before Mississippi State and Illinois lineup for the kickoff of the ReliaQuest Bowl, the snack buffet is ready to go, and we have a list of five names that might just work. Diana suggests that we have a poll at the end of the day to suggest the winning name, giving us all day to see how each name fits.

I slip off to the office and quickly print off ballots with the five names. When people are ready to vote, they can check their preferred name and drop their ballot in a crystal bowl by the buffet.

This should be interesting.

----<0>----

The last to arrive, just after the opening kickoff, is Anita’s brother Sam. I hadn’t paid much attention to him while growing up because he was a couple of years older than me. But what I do remember of him was that he was also some kind of science geek. I don’t remember him being anybody outstanding. He wasn’t an athletic star. he wasn’t in student government. For the most part it seems to me that he was just an average sort of guy. I do remember that Anita always looked up to him. I doubt that he remembers me even though I took his sister on a couple of dates.

When I open the door, I can’t help but think that the guy standing on my doorstep with a case of beer is really handsome, not that I am into that sort of thing. He must be six foot plus and seems to be in really good shape. He has a short military haircut that seems to suit him.

“Welcome,” I greet him with a smile, “You must be Anita's brother, Sam the dentist.”

He gives me a funny look. “Yes, I am. You must be Karl. Anita has been talking about you for days now. You know, you don't look much like the guy that she dated a couple of times in high school. You are a guy right?”

“Yes, I’m a guy,” I assure him with a frown, “but not for much longer, or so I’m told.”

“Or so you’re told?” He looks confused. “Don’t the doctors know when they will be done with you?”

“The transition should be complete by Friday,” I inform him, “according to my deceased mother. And, no, this is not a medically supervised transition. It is just happening all by itself, whether I like it or not.”

“Anita said something about supernatural forces at work,” he says, “but she is always going on about supernatural phenomena. It is not something I can believe.”

“Well until this last week, I didn’t either,” I assure him. “However, the evidence is that I have gone from being a normal male to this,” I wave my hands over my body, “in just a week with no medical intervention. Along with the physical changes, there have been a lot of other events that cannot be rationally explained. Being the center of all this change, I now find it hard to believe otherwise.”

“At least the fates have been kind to you,” he compliments me with a wink and a smile. “You have a very lovely face.”

Now that is something that I have never heard before! I’m not sure how to take it. I just blush and direct him to the game and food.

Anita sits down next to me during the first quarter of the game. When there is a break in the action, she whispers to me: “What did you say to Sam? I haven’t seen him smile since Karen died. He smiled at you at the door. I saw it.”

“I’m not sure,” I admit quietly. “We talked a little about trying to believe, or not believe, in supernatural phenomena. I told him that I didn’t believe until all this happened to me. He said that the fates have kindly blessed me with a lovely face.”

“OMG,” Anita gasps, “he was flirting with you!”

“No, he wasn’t,” I hiss at her, “He was just being nice.”

“To quote the teen girls in my class,” Anita whispers back, looking excited, “He SO did!”

“Keep it down ladies,” Jake grumbles. “They’re going for a long field goal.”

Anita pokes me in the ribs and grins.

----<0>----

USC takes on Tulane in the Cotton Bowl on the living room TV an hour after the start of the ReliaQuest Bowl, resulting in a division amongst my guests. A few wander back and forth between the rooms, trying to keep up with the developments in both games.

There is a rush to the bathrooms at half-time for the first game. I allow the women to use the upstairs bathrooms and the men are relegated to the downstairs powder room.

When the women don’t reappear, I head upstairs to find out what is going on.

I find Joanna and Anita holding court in the master bedroom, regaling the other women with tales from the past week. I don’t think that they’ve got to the part of the sleepovers. I really hope that they skip that part.

“Can we show the ladies what your mother has left you?” Anita almost begs.

The underclothes, jewelry, personal hygiene products, shoes, exercise clothes, nightwear, swimwear all get examined in detail by the local fashion experts.

“Where are the bras?” One woman asks.

“I don’t see any makeup either,” someone else observes.

“And there is no outerwear here,” Another woman who actually works in our office observes. She came as a date of one of my long-time guy friends. “Karl, you really don’t have anything to wear. No slacks, blouses, skirts, or dresses. What are you going to wear to work tomorrow? With your face, hair, and now slender build, there is no way you can go to work as a man.”

I just shrug, “Jamie, I was thinking about working from home until all the changes are complete. You know, just hide away this week. I may use some vacation time. Most of the office took last week off so it must be my turn now.”

My home office is actually as functional as my office at the firm. Dad set it up with all the latest communications equipment when the pandemic started. I have full access to the servers in the office and the teleconferencing set up is state-of-the-art. I can easily work from home to avoid being a mid-gender freak in the office for the week.

“That could work,” she admitted. "but you’d miss out on all the office gossip and we couldn’t help you adjust to your new reality. I think that you will find that being a woman engineer in any firm, including ours, is an uphill battle.”

“Not that our firm is bad,” she quickly clarifies her statement. “The management is actually quite supportive, but let’s face it: the construction industry is still controlled by misogynist Neanderthals. You will discover this rather quickly when your transition is complete. As a matter of fact, you will have it worse as the assholes treat transgender women even worse than natural born women. They won’t be comfortable around you. Just you wait and see.”

Joanna gets a gleam in her eye, “That’s just it, Karl is not actually transsexual. He is not voluntarily making the transition and we expect that he will become a fully functional she by the end of the process. I can hardly wait to defend her in her first discrimination suit.”

“That’s just it,” Jamie huffs, “The most dangerous assholes know the rules and are very good at finding ways around them. If you complain, it comes back to bite you. They paint you as either incompetent or militant. You can’t win.”

“Ladies, Ladies,” I interrupt the developing argument. “I think the second half is starting. We can continue this later.”

“It is only football,” Diana snorts waving off my attempt to change the topic. “This is real life.”

“Well,” I inform the group, “I want to see the game. You are all welcome to hang out here if you like. I am going downstairs.”

As I am walking out the door someone mutters, “She’s still a guy inside.”

----<0>----

A little way into the third quarter, the women come downstairs and join the revelry around the game.

As the end of the first game nears, I sneak off to the kitchen to put casseroles in the oven to warm. Anita follows me out to help. Or so she says. What I think what she really wants is to talk about her brother.

I am down on my hands and knees to retrieve some pans from the bottom cabinet when I hear a gasp behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Anita.

“I don’t think that Joanna was joking when she said that your bum was filling out,” She informs me. When I stand up, she runs her hands down my sides and over my bum. Finally, she looks around and finds us alone, before feeling my crotch.

“Well, doctor,” I say dryly. “What is your conclusion.”

“You are definitely changing again,” she tells me. “It’s not much but you are getting some shape. I’ll bet that your hips have expanded at least an inch and your waist has shrunk about as much just this morning. Having spent time with your bottom last night, I can say that it is not quite the flat men’s bottom that I enjoyed so much in the shower this morning. You still seem to have your male equipment, but I don’t think that it is what it was earlier. We need to check it out.”

I feel myself up and come to the same conclusion. “You are probably right. However, in case you haven’t noticed, I have a house full of guests and they are finding their way into every nook and cranny.”

“Everyone is downstairs now,” she observes, “Let me grab Joanna and we take a quick run up to your room. The women are more interested in the master bedroom than your bedroom. We can find some privacy there. This won’t take but a minute.”

I finish filling the ovens, then head upstairs to soon be joined by my two girl friends.

“Drop ‘em,” Joanna insists, “We can’t be gone long.”

I pull down my sweats and pull up my shirt.

“The panties too,” Anita directs.

Oh well, they both have intimate experience with every inch of my body, so I pull down the panties too.

“He’s definitely has a hint of curves,” Joanna critically observes. “Not much yet, but it is coming.”

Anita and Joanna both run their hands over my naked bottom.

“Definitely a little fuller,” Joanna observes.

“Definitely,” Anita agrees. “It was smaller when I was pulling him closer to me last night.”

Joanna starts to fondle my penis and balls, getting the expected reaction.

“Well at least that still works,” she sighs.

“Yes,” Anita smiles at the memory of last night. “But I think that it has shrunk a smidgin.”

Joanna stokes my penis as she observes, “I am pretty sure that you are right.”

“Joanna,” I say uncomfortably, “If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She grins as she gives it one last light squeeze. “That would be a waste.”

The two women, finally leave to head downstairs as I breathe deeply to come back from the edge. Eventually, little Karl deflates and I can tuck myself back into my underwear.

No one seems to notice that we were gone during the final minutes of the game.

----<0>----

When the first game ends, there is another mass exodus to the toilet facilities, then people start to fill plates in the kitchen. There is still a bit of time before the start of the next game and small conversation groups spring up around the house.

One of the things that I notice is that my buddies are drinking a lot less beer that I expected. I suspect that the presence of the women might have something to do with. I also noticed that there were a lot less observations about cheerleaders than last time I watched a game with just the guys. I can’t say that I am disappointed with the change in the general demeanor. When you get a bunch of guys alone at one of these events, there is a lot more macho behavior than what I am seeing today. In a male only gathering, a lot more beer disappears and there is a sprinkling of lewd comments about the cheerleaders. The presence of women in our midst is definitely having a civilizing influence.

After the crowd has filled their plates, I take a moment to sit by myself at the breakfast table. Just as I am sitting down, Sam wanders in and fills his plate then joins me at the table.

“I don’t get it,” he says as he takes a bite.

“You don’t get what?” I ask, though I am pretty sure that I know what he doesn’t get.

“That you are really a man,” he says.

“Well,” I reply, “that’s up for debate. I may be more woman than man at this point. The changes are continuing.”

“Your beautiful face, neck and shoulders are all very much female,” He informs me of something that I have already observed.

He reaches across the table and lifts one of my hands, “Your hands and arms are slender like a woman’s too.”

I look at my hands and arms and find that he is right. If I were a hand model, there would be no doubt that my hands belong to a female. I also doubt that these arms have the muscle to press as much weight at the gym as they did a week ago.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?” he asks. “You seem to be taking the changes calmly in stride.”

I shrug. “You are probably right. I’ve been busy and haven’t taken the time to think deeply about it. But what does it really matter? Gender seems to make a huge difference in our roles in life, but then again, so does our race, nationality, height, weight, personal disabilities, wealth, and a myriad of other factors. Each factor has an impact on our lives and how people perceive and treat us. But is one set of factors preferable to another? I am sure that most people learn to adapt to their particular set and would feel uncomfortable if any one of their factors were changed without their permission.

“So, my gender changes. Sure, that is a major factor in who I am, but I am still a privileged white with a good education and resources to do pretty much anything that I want. I still have a great job and good friends. I am still an only child who has inherited their parents’ wealth on their untimely death. I still like football and other sports. While I am experiencing a major change, there are a lot of things that are still the same.

“My parents tried to teach me that who you really are is not defined by gender, race, nationality, or many of the other factors that people judge us by. My parents told me many times that it is what is in my heart that really matters, none of the other stuff. Is it in my heart to treat other people fairly? Is it in my heart to be concerned for the welfare of my community? Is it in my heart to love and support the good people around me? Is it in my heart to be the best engineer that I can be? Is it in my heart to be an ethical businessman? If not, then it doesn’t matter where you come from, who your parents are, or what your gender is. Being a cheat and a liar is not gender dependent. Being a bully or just an arrogant selfish person is not gender dependent. Being good at engineering, or dentistry for that matter, is not gender dependent.

“So, if the things that really matter are not gender dependent, then why should I be upset by this change that is apparently being driven by a power that probably knows more than I do. I can’t see the future, but based on what I’ve seen this past week, there is someone or some power that can either see our futures or at least predict it accurately. I have to believe that this someone or power is benevolent.

“So, that’s a long answer to your implied question. Yes, I think that I am taking it all in stride. Have I had a deep desire to be female? No, the concept never crossed my mind until last week. I didn’t ask to become female. Do I mind? Yes, but only because I don’t know why this change is happening. I never asked to be male either - it just was.

“While I’m on a roll, there is another thing that influences my reaction to these events. People often complain about how unfair things are and they often wallow in self-pity. Last year at this time, my parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a New Year’s party. Was that fair to me or to them? No. Can I change it? No. No matter how much I want them back, they are gone. There is nothing that I can do about that. I went into a very dark place after they died. My grief counselor helped me realize that there was nothing that I can do to change the past and bring them back. He helped me to see that I need to let my anger go if I am to move forward. I learned to not sweat the things I can’t change, but to find ways to move forward to happiness, often going around the obstacles by doing the things that I can do. He taught me to embrace change.

“In this situation, the changes that are happening to me I have no influence over. Or at least we haven’t found a way to change me back or stop the progress. I can either vainly fight the change and be miserable or I can embrace the change and look for the silver lining.”

When I finally stop, Sam just stares at me with an expression that I cannot interpret.

“Wow,” he finally says. “That’s quite a philosophy. My grief counselor has been trying to get me to move on since my wife’s passing. I don’t think that I have made as much progress as you.”

I reached out across the table and put a comforting hand on his.

“It’s probably a byproduct of my engineering practicality,” I smile at him. “Give it some time. You can do it.”

Tears are forming in his eyes. I must have touched a nerve or memory.

He starts to say something, but we are interrupted as some of my guests come in looking for snacks before the next game starts.

I give his hand a squeeze before getting up to assist my other friends.

----<0>----

The rest of the day passes without further discussion of my situation, which is fine by me.

I do notice that Joanna and George are in frequent conversation with each other. They really seem to be clicking.

Joanna takes me aside at one point to ask me about him. When I enquired why, she said that he has asked her on a date for Friday night. She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t accepting an invitation from an asshole.

Anita apologetically leaves after the second game. While classes don’t start for another week, she still has teacher stuff to do in the morning. I think that she is mainly feeling a bit worn out by last night’s gymnastics.

----<0>----

When the final whistle is blown, Diana retrieves the voting bowl.

Tapping on a glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, she announces, “We all agreed this morning that Karl is no longer a Karl and needs a new name. Karl agreed to five possibilities as long as they all started with the letter K so that she doesn’t have to change her initials. The five names on the short list are: Kali, Karla, Kyla, Katelyn, and Karlene. Joanna, will you help me count the ballots?”

She pulls the ballots out of the bowl and, with Joanna’s help, quickly stacks them by choice.

“And the winning name is…” some idiot does a drum roll on the counter, “Karla!”

“I can live with that,” I accept the selection as everyone cheers.

That’s easy enough, just add an ‘a’. Fortunately, it was my first choice.

Everyone congratulates me on my new name.

Joanna texts the verdict to Jane and Anita.

----<0>----

Several of the guests pitched in to help with cleanup before heading home. It would appear that the party was a success as everyone seems to be in great spirits.

Not unexpectedly, Jake and I never did get around to the promised talk.

By nine o’clock, everyone is gone except Sam who helps me haul trash to the garage and to vacuum the downstairs.

“Thank you, Sam” I say with sincerity. A very tired sincerity. “I really appreciate the help. I wasn’t looking forward to spending tomorrow evening vacuuming.”

“That’s good,” he said with an equally tired smile, “because I have a better plan for tomorrow evening.”

“A long hot soak in a Jacuzzi followed by a massage?” I ask dreamily.

“Well,” he admits, “probably not that good of a plan.”

He nervously shuffles his feet as he asks, “Karla, would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

That stops me cold. Dinner with a guy? A date? I’m pretty sure that I am not ready for that.

Seeing my hesitation, he adds, “I really enjoyed our chat earlier and I’d love to continue it. There’s a quiet little restaurant in a quaint old home on the outskirts of town, The Carriage House. Have you heard of it?”

Have I heard of it! You bet I have. It’s just the place couples go for a romantic evening. People dress up to go there.

As the women observed earlier, I have nothing to wear!

“Yes,” I finally say with indecision in my voice, “I know the place. You know that I’m not really a woman?”

“Not yet,” he smiles, “but you will be. I have to head back to my posting in Germany on Wednesday, so this is the only time we have to continue our conversation.”

I still hesitate.

“It would mean a lot to me,” he says hopefully.

“I have nothing to wear,” I point out.

“I am sure that Anita can help you out, if your mother doesn’t,” he counters, acknowledging the supernatural assistant in my life.

I did enjoy his company earlier. And he has been very attentive all day, not to mention extremely helpful this evening.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I finally say with caution in my voice, “but I will tentatively say yes. If I can’t find something appropriate to wear, or I come to my senses by morning, then I will need to cancel.”

“Great!” He smiles like he won the lottery. “I made reservations for seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up a little after six thirty.”

“You what?!” I exclaim. “When did you make reservations?”

“A few of hours ago when I decided to ask you.”

----<0>----

I am exhausted when I finally slip into my new flannel nightgown and fall into my own bed.

As sleep creeps up to me, all that I can think of is: what I can wear for my date with Sam!?!?

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 9

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I am exhausted when I finally slip into my new flannel nightgown and fall into my own bed. As sleep creeps up to me, all that I can think of is: what I can wear for my date with Sam!?!?

Tuesday Jan 3, Day 9

Morning comes too quickly. I think that I need to take a day off just to recover from the long weekend! More than anything else in the world, I want to stay in bed this morning so I take a few minutes to luxuriate in the warm feel of my flannel night gown while snuggling deeper under my comforter.

I smile as I recall the New Years party, two sleepovers, and the football party. It was a great weekend!

I still don’t understand why the two ladies were so willing to share my bed. It could be that they needed some sexual release, and I was a safe way to do it without forming awkward emotional attachments. It could also have been some kind of compulsion from the supernatural power that has taken so much interest in me lately. Maybe it was something else. I will have to ask Joanna and Anita sometime. I don't really know why they did, but it made for one a heck of a weekend.

My prior sexual experience is limited. Before to this weekend, I had only slept with my one girlfriend, Judy. I wasn’t her first, but even after a couple of months living together, we were both still learning the ways of sexual pleasure when it all came to an end. My time with Judy wasn’t nearly as satisfying as that of the past weekend. Joanna and Anita really helped me understand the joy of sex, from a male perspective. I could also see the pleasure that they derived from the experience. Maybe this weekend was meant to show me that sex as a woman can be very satisfying and nothing to be afraid of. I shudder at the thought of having sex with a man, however, knowing that the ladies enjoyed the weekend as much as I did gives me hope that sex as a woman will be just as wonderful as it has been for me as a man. Maybe making love as a woman is something to actually look forward to.

Thinking of sex with men, I am reminded of my upcoming dinner with Sam. I can guarantee that there will be no sex tonight!

Reaching down into my panties, I find that little Karl is still there. However, little Karl seems much smaller and not at all inclined to rise to the occasion. It looks like his romping days might be over. Not that those days ever really got started.

My hand also discovers that my testicles are AWOL. The scrotum is still there, but the sacks are empty. This new discovery jolts me awake.

Jumping out of bed, I strip down and stand before the full-length mirror, finding that I am nearing the end of my transformation.

What I see in the mirror is an underdeveloped female with a pretty face, beautiful hair, arms, and legs that are shaped more like a woman's than a man's. She has a hint of curves, but just a hint. The hips are slightly wider than the high waist. Her chest, neck and shoulders are also more slender than they had been even two days ago. She is still missing any hint of breasts other than the areolas which are more pronounced than they were yesterday. The biggest anomaly is the penis, albeit only a couple of inches long, hanging from her crotch.

I turn to get a better view of my backside. My derriere is definitely showing signs of rounding out into a feminine shape but still is much smaller than a mature woman's. I still have fresh, and vivid, memories of up close and personal interactions with feminine backsides this past weekend. I am nowhere near as shapely as either Joanna or Anita, but I am one step closer to being just like them. My panties should fit better today, I idly think.

As I stare at myself in the mirror, I realize that Jamie was right yesterday: there is no way that I can go to work today as a man. I am not really equipped to go as a woman either. I am three quarters female and a noticeable one quarter male.

Today sounds like a great day for telecommuting. Using my phone, I email Jim and Celeste my decision to work from home today. I let them know that they can call me anytime if they need anything.

I still need to get ready for work, even if I am telecommuting, so I head off to the shower wondering where I will find mom’s daily note. I am not in a rush to find it.

After finishing in the shower, I go back to my bedroom to figure out my clothing situation. I needn’t have worried. I found my day’s outfit on the bed along with mom's communication.

My dearest Karla,

I love the new name! I recommend that you change your middle name from Louis to Louisa.

Isn’t it great to have so many good friends? I think that it is a good idea to be open about your transition. A cover-up won’t work and would only make things worse. You will get some flack from various quarters, but that will blow over when people realize that you are not trying to hide anything from them. Just be honest and straight forward and you will be able to ride it out.

It is time for you to dress as a woman full time. The clothes in the master bedroom are yours to use. You can simulate the upcoming changes rather easily with a little padding here and there and a little makeup.

BTW, your father wants me to tell you to resist selling out to Jim for now.

Love always, Mom (and Dad)

Knowing that the ladies are probably waiting to hear from me, I take a picture of the note and clothes on the bed and text it to my group. I don’t mention the change to my anatomy.

There are quite a lot of clothes on the bed.

The outfit includes a pair of navy-blue women’s slacks with matching blazer, a white blouse, and a conservative low-heeled pair of women’s loafer shoes. Not too unlike what I see our women engineers wear to the office.

I also find some kind of white women’s stretchy brief with pads. The package says that it is butt enhancer shapewear. There is also a white bra with a box lying next to it. Opening the box, I find two silicone breasts - I have no doubt where those go!

Taking a deep breath, I face my new reality and slip on the panties, tucking little Karl between my legs. The firm panty keeps everything in place and gives me a fuller rear end and hips.

I have a lot of trouble figuring out the bra until I recall once watching Judy put hers on by doing up the clasps up front then spinning it around before pulling it into place. I find that the technique is much easier than trying to reach behind me to work the hooks. The breast forms fit the bra perfectly... of course.

I slip on the blouse and fumble with the backwards buttons, the last of which is much lower than I am used to. At least it covers up the bra and breast forms. I add the topaz necklace, which seems to be happily glowing this morning as it nestles in the V formed by the open top of the blouse.

It takes me a couple of minutes to figure out how to put on the sheer black knee-high nylon stockings, which I find with the shoes, without damaging them. The stockings are then covered with the slacks and I tuck in the blouse. There is no belt, or pockets for that matter. I will definitely need a purse if I go anywhere today. The waist is higher than I am used to. Turning in front of the mirror, I see that the butt enhancers do give me an acceptable female appearance behind and the panty gives me a flat feminine front.

The blazer is, fortunately, loosely tailored. I still don’t have the curves for a really sexy form fitting tailor job.

Slipping on the shoes, I stand up to walk to the mirror. Before I take my first step, my world view changes. I find it decidedly odd how things look a little different with only a couple of inches of elevation change! I know that I have taller heels in my mother’s shoe collection, but even this small heel throws me off kilter. I feel like I am standing on a slope with my feet pointed downhill. I take a few tentative steps towards the mirror and find that walking will be just a bit different, but not too bad.

Standing in front of the mirror, I critically evaluate my appearance.

Something needs to be done with my hair, which is still damp from the shower. Cautiously walking to my nightstand to get a brush, I return to the mirror. Mentally I try to come to grips with the reasonably attractive woman staring back at me. She looks almost sexy as she brushes her long hair.

She could use a little makeup. Unfortunately that is a skill that is in my future, not my present.

My phone dings with multiple notifications.

Jane: It looks like Karla is here to stay.

Anita: Please text us a picture once you are dressed.

Joanna: Any new physical changes?

Standing in front of the mirror, I take a selfie that shows the finished product and text it the group. While I am at it, I also do my daily head shots .

Joanna: Looking great girl friend!

Jane: I agree, you look very good. Hopefully your curves will appear soon!

Anita: Quite the professional woman.

Me: There are changes down below too.

Joanna: Oh! Do tell. Do you still have your joystick?

Me: You two wore it out. It is about half size and its two batteries are AWOL.

Anita: Dang! I was hoping for one more go at it.

Joanna: Me too!

Jane: You ladies really need to find yourselves a good man.

Joanna: Where do you find one?

Anita: Yeah. I haven’t had much luck there.

Anita: Speaking of good men, I hear that Karla has a hot date tonight.

Jane: Do tell.

Anita: My brother Sam told me this morning. He is over the moon. I haven’t seen him this excited since before he lost Karen.

Me: I am not going if I can’t find something besides this business suit to wear, I caution.

Jane: Have you checked in your mother’s closet today?

Me: No

I look in the master bedroom and notice a dress and accessories on the bed. I photograph the layout and text it to the ladies.

Me: Mom has me covered.

Joanna: I will come after work to help you get ready. I bet you don’t know the first thing about makeup.

Anita: I will come too.

Jane: You are in good hands.

A quick look around the room reveals a wide selection of bras in a drawer and several dresses, skirts, blouses, and pant suits in the closet. None of the items were here yesterday.

----<0>----

It is not long before I receive a call from Celeste.

“Hello Mrs. Jenkins,” I answer the phone.

There is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Can I speak to Karl?”

I sigh, “It is Karla now. There have been a lot more changes over the holiday.”

“Is that why you’re not coming into work?” She asks.

“Mostly,” I reply, “I’m three quarters female and one quarter male. It would be awkward at best. I don’t know any reason that I need to be physically present at the office today since I can get my work done remotely.”

“Can we do a teleconference?” she asks. “I would love see what you look like now. It might help me prepare the office for your return.”

“Sure,” I sigh. I expected this. “You might get Jim on the line at the same time. I’m sure that he will want to see this too. Can you give me twenty minutes and I will boot up our default video conference room?”

“Sure, Karl,” she hesitates, “I mean Karla. Twenty minutes. I will make sure that Jim is online to.”

I need the time to brush out my hair one more time and make sure that everything is in place.

----<0>----

I am nervously waiting in our virtual conference room when Celeste and Jim join in almost simultaneously.

They both look shocked when they see me.

“Karl?” Celeste asks, “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jenkins. It is me but I think that I should go by Karla now,” I say, “don’t you think?”

“My God,” Jim exclaims. “You certainly have changed, Karl. I mean, Karla. Is it complete?”

“No,” I point to my chest, “these are silicone breast forms. I am still lacking female body curves and still have a vestige of my manhood in place. I suspect that all these ‘flaws’ will be rectified by the end of the week.”

“You sound 100% female,” Celeste observes. “Is your hair still growing?”

“I think that my hair has found its length. It hasn’t grown in the last twenty four hours. It extends to the small of my back.” I stand up and turn around so that they can see the length.

“Step back from the camera so that we can see the whole package,” Jim directs.

I adjust the camera and stand far enough back so that they can see my whole height then execute a slow twirl.

“Wow,” Celeste says in amazement. “You look completely female. That’s a very nice suit.”

“It is amazing what a little padding will do,” I reply dryly. “My mother picked out the clothes.”

“She’s still communicating with you?” Jim asks.

“Every day,” I confirm, “and each day I undergo some change. She usually leaves me with gifts of clothing and accessories too.”

“What do you hear from your dad?” Jim asks.

“Not much lately,” I tell him. “I think that all this feminization makes him nervous.”

“It makes ME nervous,” Jim declares. “I hope that it is not contagious.”

“Being a woman is not a bad thing,” Celeste retorts.

“I hope that you are right,” I reply, “because there is no stopping this train.”

“You look nice,” Celeste says. “Can you lean a little closer to the camera please.”

I do as requested.

“Just what I thought,” she says, “you are not wearing any makeup. Just a little makeup would complete the look and no one would question your gender for sure. Not that there is any doubt now.”

I laugh, “Yeah, right. I am not an artist. That’s not going to happen any time soon.”

“Ladies,” Jim looks impatient. “Can we get back to work here? Karl, sorry, Karla we need figure out how to explain your change to the staff and clients. I really don’t know what to say.”

“I think, whatever we do, we should be honest and straight forward about it,” I say. “Enough people already know that something is happening. George from the soils lab already knows. So does Jamie. They were both here all day yesterday at my bowl party. The genie is out of the bottle and she’s not going back in.”

“I agree,” says Celeste as Jim frowns. “I bet that we hear chatter on the office grapevine before lunch. There has already been a lot of talk around the office about Karl’s hair, voice, and softer facial features.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Jim grumbles.

“You are the boss,” she says as if it is obvious to a blind fool. “No one gossips to the boss.”

Turning her attention to me, she suggests, “It is not good to let speculation run rampant. You need to get ahead of the curve and set the record straight before things get out of control. Might I suggest that you get your cute little derriere down here ASAP and mingle as much as you can today. Maybe have your lunch in the conference room and invite people to join you for a chat. Kind of informal like. The more people that are in on this change the better control you will have over the rumors. Girl, we just need to pull the bandaid off as quickly as possible.”

“But the changes are not complete,” comes out as a whine.

“Celeste is probably right,” Jim admits, “You look complete enough for me.”

“Did your mom leave you any makeup?” Celeste asks. “Bring some if you can. Some mascara, eye liner, a subtle lipstick, and some foundation would be a good start, and if she left some muted pink nail polish bring that as well.”

I just stare blankly at her.

“You don’t know what I am talking about, do you?” She sighs.

“You are speaking in a foreign language,” I point out.

“Well girl, if you are going native, you need to learn the language.” She informs me.

“Jim, in the best interests of the firm, I am going to order a lunch buffet for the conference room today, invite everyone to swing by, then I will go get our girl ready for her debut.” She firmly states.

She turns her attention back to me. “Go gather up what makeup you can find and text me a picture of it. I may need to stop by the store to get supplies on my way over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I snap off a cocky salute.

“Don’t get smart with me, girl” she growls at me. “I raised two teen daughters. I know how to handle attitude.”

With that, we agree to Celeste’s plan and sign off to put the plan into play.

I find what looks to me to be a dizzying array of makeup stuff on my mom’s vanity and text a picture of it all to Celeste.

Less than an hour later Celeste shows up at my door in full drill sergeant mode.

Half an hour after she arrives, I am ready to walk out of the house knowing a lot more about the practical application of makeup than I did when I woke up this morning. She has also found a large tortoise shell barrette with the hair accessories that mom had left earlier and showed me how to pull back my hair on the sides and clip it back. I admit that it looks quite nice and keeps the hair out of my face.

“You still need a lot of practice with the basics,” she reminds me. “You are not ready for the big leagues yet.”

I look in the entry hall closet for a suitable coat. Mom hasn’t failed me. I find a mid-length hooded down coat perfect for today’s cold weather. I find a stylish grey knit cap with a girlish pompom on top and matching pair of feminine gloves stuffed in one sleeve.

Mom thinks of everything.

I slip on the coat and hat, shove the gloves in the coat pockets, and retrieve my new black nylon purse before heading for the garage.

Ready or not, it is time to meet the office staff as the new me.

----<0>----

So, I am a couple of hours late getting to the office. No big deal, right?

Apparently, not right.

I nominally occupy my father’s private office right next to my partner, Jim, in what passes for an executive suite in our mid-sized firm of about forty people. The suite is adjacent to the entry atrium. Celeste and another woman, Darlene, work from desks outside our offices but where they can keep an eye on the receptionist and lobby. The conference room is also just off the lobby. A hallway leads from the entry atrium towards the back of the building. On the west side of the hall we have a large open area, with cubicles, where most of our engineering takes place. This is where the design engineers and draftsmen/women reside.

On the east side of the hall, there is another large office space, with cubicles, where the surveying department bases their work. They have easy access from their space to an equipment storage area and to the vans and trucks in the back lot that are reserved for the survey crews. There is also a server room where our small IT staff works adjacent to the surveyors. The hall exits the backside of the building into a large parking area. Across the parking lot, in another building, we have a soils testing facility overseen by a senior geotechnical engineer with a staff that includes two junior geotechnical engineers and five field technicians.

I spend most of my time with the design engineers where I have a second workstation. From day-to-day I look pretty much like any other junior design engineer. Most of my coworkers tend to forget that I authorize their pay checks as I try to not make a big deal about my firm ownership. Jim is the face of the company.

Today, my plan is to make a beeline to my executive office and hide.

Somehow, word has gotten out that I had a sex change over the weekend. When word spreads through the office that I had arrived dressed as a woman, it seems that everyone suddenly has an urgent need to consult with me “over this detail in our current project.” It is obvious that my coworkers are checking me out, but fortunately, they are professional enough to stick to business. I try to act like nothing had changed.

After the third such visit, I realize that everyone wants to see me for themselves and are impatiently waiting for the promised lunch buffet, still an hour away.

Sighing, I get out of my office and do a walk through the design office, taking time to chat with people as I go. A few start to ask questions about my personal life, but I just smile and tell them that I will reveal all at lunch.

Walking through the survey department, most of the surveyors are there and stop what they are doing to stare at me.

“Jamie said that you had transitioned,” one of the women surveyors observed, “I expected to see a guy in a dress. You look damn good. Somebody did a great job on you.”

“I’ll tell all about it at lunch in the conference room.” I inform them.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” another surveyor says.

I give them a little wave before quickly walking the short distance to the soils lab. I have to walk quickly because I forgot to bring my coat and it is cold outside.

George looks up from his work as I enter the lab.

“Karla?” He asks with a questioning look.

“It’s me,” I admit with a smile.

“Wow,” he says, drawing the attention of everyone else in the lab.

“You looked the part yesterday,” he tells me, “But today… wow!”

“Damn,” the lab supervisor says, “George said that you were transitioning, but I didn’t expect this. I don’t mean to be disrespectful boss, but you turned out very nice. I just can’t understand why you are doing this.”

“Come over for lunch and we’ll talk about it,” I invite them. “That includes all of you. I’m buying.”

There are grins all around. “We’ll be there boss.”

While they are grinning about lunch, several of them seem to take a second to check me out. Not everyone seems pleased.

“Your transformation appears to be complete,” George says quietly as everyone else returns to their tasks.

“Not quite,” I blush, “but it is getting close.”

“Say George,” I change the subject. “I hear that you have a date with Joanna this weekend.”

“My,” he blushes, “word gets around.”

“She is a good friend,” I inform him. “She is also a very special woman. She may appear to be tough and prickly on the outside, but she can be very soft and loving when she wants to be. I need to warn you, however, to be on your best behavior. She doesn’t tolerate even the slightest misogynistic macho attitude. She represents women in divorce and harassment cases and has a very low opinion of what she terms as asshole men. She’s had some bad experiences with men outside work as well. She will bust your balls and walk home if you act like an asshole. So don’t strut your manly stuff.”

George blanches a little, “Maybe I should call it off.”

“Don’t,” I advise. “Just treat her as an equal and show some interest in her and all will go fine. You can do this.”

“I think she likes you,” I add with a wink.

----<0>----

Hiding in my office as the lunch hour approaches, I work on a short PowerPoint presentation to present the evidence of my transformation. At least the impromptu meetings went away after my walk through the office.

I text my girl friends: Wish me luck. I am coming out to the office in a company wide lunch at noon.

Anita: I thought you were staying home today???

Me: I planned to, but the firm leadership decided that I need to confront this head on to stay ahead of the rumors.

Joanna: Good plan. Let me know if you need any legal assistance. I love to prosecute civil harassment cases.

Jane: You've got this girl. Show them what you got. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

Anita: Jane is right. You've got this. Let us know how it goes.

As the final minutes tick by, I am sweating bullets, afraid that this whole meeting will blow up in my face. I will definitely need a shower when I get home.

Long before I am ready, Celeste pokes her head in my office, “I think everyone is in the conference room. It is very crowded but we saved you and Jim seats at the head of the conference table. I think everyone has filled their plates and they are wondering where you are.”

Jim is standing outside my office door after I take one last look in my office mirror before facing my coworkers.

“I still can’t believe this,” he admits, “But the evidence is staring me in the face. How about we go explain our anti-discrimination and harassment policy to our staff?”

I almost have to fight my way into the conference room. It is packed to standing room only. The crowd parts as I walk through the door to the head of the table.

The conference room is a fairly large room with a table that seats 20 with more chairs around the perimeter. There is a large spread of food along a buffet table at the far end of the room and it looks well used. There is not much left, not that I am hungry. I think that the butterflies in my stomach would push out anything I tried to eat.

Jim pulls out my chair for me, being the gentleman that he is, but I decline and invite Celeste to sit there. I prefer to stand during my presentation. Standing is a much better position to bolt from if I get the urge, which is not an impossibility. Also, it gives everyone a good view of my changes.

Before the meeting, I had asked one of our computer techs to warm up the computer and big screen. I find it ready to go, so I log in and bring up my presentation on the screen behind me.

First up is my corporate headshot that was taken just a month ago. With a click of the remote, a selfie that I took while making the presentation appears to the right of my first image. Below the corporate image is my name: Karl Louis Bronson. Under the selfie is my new name: Karla Louisa Bronson.

“Does anyone see any difference?” I ask the crowd.

“I didn’t know you had sister,” one woman says.

“I don’t,” I explain, “The image on the left is what I looked like a week ago. The other is a selfie that I took an hour ago.”

“You have a great makeup artist,” a woman from engineering comments with a hint of distain.

“There is no way this was done with makeup,” one of the other engineers rebuts before I can get out a response. “No one could have changed so drastically without hormones and surgery. Look at the pictures. Among other things, her jaw line has changed dramatically and her cheekbones are higher. That can’t be makeup.”

“And I worked with him, ah her, several times last week,” one the administrative staff pipes up. “A lot of you were on vacation last week, but Karl was here. Not in a hospital. Those of us who worked with him saw his hair grow out dramatically and his features soften as the week progressed.”

“So what DID happen?” one of the senior engineers asked. “If not surgery and hormones, what else? There is no such thing as magic.”

The next slide shows mom's first note by an image of the Christmas tree with the card and small gift under it.

“Christmas morning, I found a Christmas tree in my living room that I did not put there,” I explain. “With the tree was this note and the topaz necklace that I am wearing today. Pay particular attention to the last paragraph. I will read it for you.”

“Tomorrow is the first of the twelve days of Christmas. Each of those days, you will experience change that will prepare you to find your one true love. The changes may seem strange each day, but all will come into focus on the day of Epiphany.”

I let them read the note.

"Friday is the day of Epiphany," I point out.

“Someone was pranking you,” came from halfway down the table. “Not to be insensitive, but your parents died a year ago.”

“That’s what I thought too,” I admit. “Those of you who were in town will recall that it snowed overnight Christmas Eve. When I went to investigate, there were no sign of foot prints in the new snow. There was no evidence of a break-in either.”

I pull up the next slide which contains the second note.

“This note I found in my bathroom the day after Christmas,” I continue. “With it were bottles of shampoo and conditioner of the same brand that my mother used. My old shampoo was gone as were my shaving supplies. Fortunately, I guess, I didn’t need the shaving supplies. For the first time in a decade, I didn’t need to shave and I haven’t had to shave my face since. As the day progressed, my hair grew at a noticeable pace.

“I also found that my mother’s jewelry box, with all its contents, was back in my parents’ room." I put up a slide showing mom's jewelry box open on her vanity. "Her hair accessories were also back where they had been when she died. I called the jeweler that I had sold the jewelry to, and he said that he has already sold the pieces to a wide variety of customers. It would have been impossible to track down every piece to reform the collection that returned to mom's vanity.

“By this time, I was getting annoyed by whoever was pranking me. So, I set tells on all my doors and windows in case someone was coming in the house when I was gone or asleep.

“And the note was correct about the Mayor,” one of the senior engineers added. “I was in the meeting and the Mayor was being difficult until Karl asked him about his secretary.”

“Thanks,” I offer.

People are pretty quiet now. You can tell, however, that there are still some that are not yet believers.

“This is the last note that I will show you,” I inform them as I put the third note on the screen. “The notes get increasingly personal as the days go on. There is enough evidence here to make my point.”

“I checked all my tells that morning and none were broken, but there was the daily note along with the body wash mentioned in the note." I put up an image of the new body wash products. "My normal soap was gone. Later in the day, I found moisturizer, feminine razors, shaving cream, and deodorant in the master bathroom.

“Instead of following my mother’s advice,” I continue, “I went to my normal barber and had a business haircut. By the end of the day, it had grown out again and was a mess.”

“I told him to get it fixed,” Jim mentions.

“Pay particular attention to the part about meeting my old friends at the coffee shop for lunch.”

'You should go to the coffee shop today. Your old high school girlfriends, Anita and Jane, will be there. You should join them for lunch."

Continuing on, “Coming back to the office after my haircut, I was passing the coffee shop when I coincidentally bumped into my old high school friends, Anita and Jane. They invited me to join them, just as the note had prophesied. I took my mother’s advice and had a great visit with them. I told them about the bizarre happenings. Anita has always been interested in the supernatural, so she invited herself to my home that evening see for herself.

“Anita noticed that my skin was unusually smooth and soft for a male and that the body hair on my arms and chest had a softer, more feminine feel, than they expected on a man. And no, I did not let her examine me any further.”

“Too bad,” muttered a woman off to my left.

“Jane and Anita have been in the loop every day since,” I continue suppressing a grin, “Anita brought her friend Joanna over the next night to hear the story and view the evidence. Both have been over daily since then to see what ‘gifts’ my mother has left and to see what physical changes I have experienced. Jane has also joined us when she can. All three of them have had been with me throughout my transformation.”

“It looks as you have completed the transition,” one man observes.

“Not quite,” I smile sadly. “I am currently somewhere in between.”

“But you have the breasts and butt of a woman,” one guy points out.

“Yeah,” a woman points out, “but he doesn’t have any curves to speak of.”

“Padding can make up for some of those deficiencies,” I grin as I pat my butt.

“And,” with an evil grin I put a hand down my blouse and pull a breast form from my bra to gasps around the room, “silicone can make up for more.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Jim mutters behind me.

As I stuff the form back in my bra, “If the notes are correct, I won’t need the padding or the silicone much longer.”

“What about down below,” one young woman asks with a blush.

“I am not going to show you that,” I smile gently back at her. “But let’s just say that I am technically still male there. However, there are major changes in progress as we speak. I don’t expect to remain male there much longer.”

Jim pipes up, “I will thank you to keep that to yourself.”

There is a general chuckle around the room in response to Jim’s comment.

“There is a lot more that has happened along the same line,” I mention in closing, “However, I think I have presented enough facts to show you that what is happening to me defies rational explanation. And, before someone asks, I have not been a closet transsexual. Never in my life have I considered becoming or being female. This is not my choice, however I must admit that I am not distraught over it either. As near as I can tell, slightly over half the world’s population lives successfully as women. If you women can do it, then maybe I can as well. I don’t have any personal relationships that will be damaged by the change, so I don’t need to worry about a major reshuffling of my life. I just have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll say!”, a woman from the back calls out, earning chuckles from the women in the crowd.

“That’s about all I have for you,” I conclude. “If you still don’t believe that this is supernatural, then I invite you to supply another explanation that fits the facts. Until last week, I didn't believe in the supernatural either. Now I find it hard to deny.”

“There is still some food back there,” I remind them, “so help yourselves. We have a little time for questions still. I will answer what I can. Thank you for your attention.”

"Have you sought help from the medical profession?" Comes from one of the surveyors.

"Yes," I tell them, "I met with my family doctor twice last week. After examining me, he confirmed that I was still male at the time but my blood tests showed hormone levels consistent with a woman my age. He did an ultrasound and did not find any female reproductive organs so he is mystified by the results of the blood tests. He did, however, chronicle changes to my body that made me appear more feminine. He also could not account for the phenomenal growth of my hair nor the loss of my facial hair."

Some idiot calls out, “Are you still going to sit for your licensing exam in the spring?”

I didn’t have to answer that question. One of our more senior women engineers replied in disgust. “And why wouldn’t she, Carlos. She is just becoming female, not having her brains sucked out.”

I just raise my eyebrows. A woman near me mutters, “What an asshole.”

Jim takes this opportunity to stand up and remind everyone of our anti-discrimination and harassment policy. He pointed out that no one is irreplaceable. If there is verified discrimination or harassment against anyone for any reason that behavior is grounds for dismissal and possible court action.

I add, “My good friend, Joanna Goodheart, attorney at law, has volunteered to help us prosecute any civil discrimination or harassment suit. She has a very good track record with those types of cases.”

“Oh shit,” Carlos groans. His recently divorced ex-wife did quite well in the settlement with Joanna representing her.

As people file out, I head to what is left of the buffet. I notice that the men give me a wide berth, and a few of the women. I do get encouraging words from several of the ladies, most offering to help with my feminine education.

When everyone has returned to work and the administrative staff starts putting the conference room back in order, Jim, Celeste, and I adjourn to Jim’s office.

“I hope that some work gets done this afternoon,” Jim mutters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Celeste dismisses his comment. “You know how it is, everyone is coming back from a long weekend and/or vacation. It will be slow today regardless.”

Turning to me, Celeste says, “I think that went well. I was a little worried up front that Carlos and some of his buddies would be assholes, but everyone else seemed to take it in stride. I think you did the right thing putting everything on the table. It will keep the wild rumors down. People appreciate it when you respect them enough to be straight with them. Throwing out the challenge to find another explanation that fits the facts was a good move.”

“Yes,” Jim agrees, “It went better than I thought. I was watching a few people who appear to still be skeptical. I think we have several conspiracy theorists in the firm and they are thinking that you are fabricating facts to hide whatever is really going on. Fortunately, you have a reputation of being honest and straight with people, so hopefully that will sway them.”

“I agree,” Celeste smiles, “Everyone likes you. Integrity is important in our business and by putting everything on the table, everyone will respect you that much more. I actually expect that, as a result of your presentation, people will be even more loyal to the firm than they have been. They like to know that we trust them.”

“Thanks for your support,” I say with unexpectedly watery eyes, “both of you. I couldn’t ask for better colleagues. I really appreciate you helping me get through this.”

“I still can’t believe that you pulled that breast stunt,” Jim shakes his head.

“It was perfect,” Celeste disagreed. “It lightened the tension in the room and showed how open Karla is. She came across as being fun as well as honest.”

We spend a few minutes more analyzing the meeting before moving on to more mundane stuff, like where to house a couple of new structural engineers and a structural draftsman, how to drum up enough business to keep them busy, and other business development challenges.

Eventually, we all have other work to do. As Celeste and I get ready to head back to our desks, Jim asks me to stick around for a minute.

When Celeste is gone, he asks, “Not to be crass like Carlos, but is this transition going to change any of your professional plans? We need to look to the future of the firm.”

“No,” I assure him with a frown, “my professional priorities are the same. Do you think this transition will change that?”

“Who can tell?” He shrugs. “Major changes in a person’s life sometimes cause a shift in priorities. I just need to know what is on your mind. While I am effectively the managing partner because of my experience and the fact that you are not fully licensed yet, you are the majority owner and could technically change all that. I just need to know where I stand. You also know, as I told you after the death of your parents, I am willing to buy you out if you want to do something else. Your father and I built this firm from the ground up. It is everything to me and I really don’t like feeling vulnerable.”

“Jim,” I assure him, “you were my father’s closest friend. I hope that we can be friends too, even with the age, and now, gender differences. Dad trusted you with everything and I do too. You have always been like a second father to me. Some day I hope to be a truly equal partner as I grow within the profession but as long as you are still around, you will always be the true leader of the firm. We both know that I am not ready to take control, but you are mentoring me, which I appreciate that more than you know. I can see that ten or twenty years from now, you are going to want to retire. I hope to pick up the load and carry on from there as the second generation of leadership, but I need your help to learn the ropes. As long as we can work together with respect, I don’t see things changing. Jim, you are the one non-replaceable person in this firm. I promise that I won’t do anything to push you out of the way.”

“That’s good to hear,” he visibly relaxes. “But I want you to know that the offer to buy you out is always on the table.”

“Thanks, Jim,” I smile at him. “Have you thought of what would happen if we become a certified Woman Owned Business? We could land more government contracts. We should look into that once I become a certified genetic female with a full engineering license.”

I can tell that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He leans back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “We will have to look into that,” he says contemplatively.

----<0>----

When I get back to my office, there is a note to return a call from my friend John at the local paper.

“Hello John,” I greet him when answers the phone, “what’s up?”

“Who is this?” He inquires.

“Sorry,” I apologize, “my voice has changed. This is Karl Bronson returning your call.”

“It sure has changed,” John is surprised, “but the voice change fits with a tip that I received about an hour ago. Someone called me say that you came out as a transgendered woman at work today. They thought that it would make for an interesting story.”

“Come on John,” I sigh, “We talked about this at the New Year’s party. I am not transgendered, but I am morphing into a woman. It is not anything that I am doing to myself, and I fully expect to be a genetic woman, right down to the chromosomes, when this is over. So, I don’t think that the label transgender really applies. Whoever called you wasn’t listening too close to our informal lunch meeting. Why should it be newsworthy anyway? Transgenderism is nothing new. I bet you can find plenty of transgendered people around town. And like them, I don’t really want to splash my status across the front page.”

“Like it or not, Karl,” he starts.

I interrupt him, “I go by Karla now, John. I will get my name legally changed once my physical changes are complete.”

“Sorry,” he says, “It should be easy enough to remember the new name, Karla.”

“As I was saying,” he continues, “Like it or not, Karla, you are important to this city. You are the majority owner of a company which is growing and brings high-tech jobs into our community. You can’t hide that, and neither can you hide your changes. My source tells me that you look completely female now. By the way, I can’t believe you really pulled a silicone breast out of your bra in front of the whole office. He sent me a video clip of that stunt. I found it to be hilarious but there a people out there who will be offended. If I were you, I would look to see if it gets posted on YouTube. The video was creatively edited to look pretty crass, not what I have come to expect from you. Anyway, what I am offering to do is to put the record straight in a public forum. I think that my source wants to discredit you. Give me an exclusive interview and I can tell your story for you in a better light than a gossip rag.”

“I don’t know, John,” I reply indecisively.

“Think about it, Karla,” he presses his point, “This is basically just doing what you did for your office, just for the whole community. It is gossip control. The best way to squash malicious gossip is to get everything out front. It is best to be ahead of the curve. And I have to tell you, if my source is right, misinformation is already spreading. We need to get this in Sunday’s edition before the misinformation sinks in too deep.”

I sigh, “You make a great point. How do you want to do this?”

“I can come by your house when you get off work this evening and we could go over your evidence and you can tell me your story,” he sounds excited.

“I can’t tonight,” I firmly tell him. “I have a commitment that I really can’t break. How about tomorrow afternoon at my house, say 4:30 or 5? I might be able to have a couple of creditable witnesses to share their observations.”

“That will put me in a deadline time crunch,” he says, “But it can still work. Are you sure that you can't reschedule your evening tonight?"

"That is not negotiable," I firmly inform him.

"Okay, Okay, I get it," John relents. "I will see you at 4:30. You are still living in your parent’s house, right?”

“Yes, I am. See you then,” I agree before hanging up.

While I was talking with John, my cell phone was pinging like crazy.

Anita: I can’t believe you did this. She has a YouTube link embedded in the text.

Jane: OMG!

The message from Joanna seems to come from a tiger waiting to be let loose.

Joanna: Carlos is an asshole. Let me sue him for you!

I click on the link and find a video entitled: "Is this the leadership our community wants?"

I watch a 20 second video of myself patting my butt with a big smile and saying, “Padding can make up for some of those deficiencies and silicone can make up for more” as I pull out my breast form.

It is on Carlos’s YouTube channel and already has a thousand hits. The video is going viral.

Me: Sue him Joanna.

Me: I am going to see if I can fire him.

With that, I head off to see Jim and our small HR department. Both agree that Carlos has crossed the line.

Jim ends up calling Carlos to his office for a meeting with HR. I stay out of it.

After meeting with Carlos, Jim reported back to me that Joanna had gotten to him first, threatening to sue him into oblivion if he didn’t take down the video immediately.

Carlos had deleted the video from YouTube by the time he was summoned to Jim’s office.

The office asshole was seen cleaning out his desk shortly after his meeting with Jim and HR.

He was fired for violating the company policy on discrimination and harassment.

I informed my text group that: Carlos is looking for a new job. Thanks for your help, Joanna! Send me the bill.

Word of Carlos’ firing got around the office at light speed. I don’t think that we will see any more issues as everyone else seems to like their job.

----<0>----

I am running a little late by the time I pull into my garage. I notice Anita’s car at the curb and Joanna pulls into the driveway as I shut the garage door.

I find Anita up in the master bedroom examining the outfit that mom left for me to wear on my date with Sam and making sure that all the right makeup is arrayed on the Vanity.

“We don’t have much time to get you ready,” Anita seriously announces.

“And I want to hear your side of the story about your office antics,” Joanna says.

“I really need to take a shower,” I complain. “I was sweating bullets at work today.”

“Well then strip off,” Joanna says, “I want to see your changes anyway.”

“Ah…” I start to stammer.

“Come on girl,” Anita rolls her eyes. “We’ve both seen you naked before.”

Kicking off my shoes, I start to strip down.

As the bra comes off, I sigh in relief.

“It feels great to take your bra off, doesn’t it?” Anita knowingly asks.

I just nod a positive response.

“We all feel that way at the end of the day,” Joanna informs me.

Once naked, the ladies have me stand still while they walk around me examining today’s progress.

“What a shame,” Joanna says, fondling what is left of my genitals.

“Not much left down there,” Anita sighs. “And your testicles really are gone.”

Joanna runs her hands over my chest. “I think I can detect the start of breast growth.”

Anita also runs her hands over the same region and pokes at my nipples. “I think that you are right. Do they itch, Karla?”

“Yes, it’s been getting worse as the afternoon wore on.” I admit.

“I don’t think that you’ll be needing those breast forms much longer,” Anita comments with agreement from Joanna.

“I hate to break it to you, Karla,” Joanna informs me, “but you really need to shave your legs before you slip into that panty hose your mother laid out.”

“You might as well do your underarms as well,” Anita points out. “And you really do need to get in the shower soonest. There is not much time. Don’t forget to wash off your makeup.”

They crowd into the bathroom to talk to me while I am in the shower.

At their instance, I go over my day in some detail. I told them how Celeste really pushed for me to come in today and how she came over to help me with my makeup. They both agreed that the office meeting was a good idea, but that I should have skipped the demonstration.

Joanna told us about her conversation with Carlos. He was defiant at first, but Joanna reminded him of her success during his divorce negotiations and he wisely acquiesced to her demand to take the video down. I told them about his firing. Neither one felt sorry for poor Carlos.

I told them about my conversation with John. Both agreed to meet us here tomorrow as soon as they can get away from work. It will be nice to have some witnesses to reinforce my tale.

I was very careful shaving my legs and arm pits as we talked. Those are not areas that I have ever shaved before. It took a lot longer than doing my face. When I exited the shower, they showed me how to wrap my hair in a towel to absorb most of the moisture. Anita handed me some moisturizing cream to rub on my freshly shaved legs. She mentions that I might want to look into waxing. Apparently, I can go longer without shaving if I wax regularly.

Mom had set out another padded panty for this evening’s use. It doesn’t take much to tuck what is left of my penis away as it has continued to shrink during the day. I get instruction on the proper technique for putting on the panty hose that we found on the bed. Tonight’s bra is much lacier than the one I wore to work and is a perfect fit for the breast forms.

Next comes the dress. It is a lined dark blue and purple dress that falls just below my knees. I am told that the outer layer is chiffon, and that it has an empire waist, perfect for hiding inadequate curves. The dress has very short fluttery sleeves and a high neckline. The very silky lining feels light and airy, sending shivers across my skin. The shoes are black pumps with a short and moderately wide 2-inch heel. Fortunately, they have a closed toe as we don’t have time for toenail painting.

I am seated in front of the vanity and the ladies double team me. Joanna uses the hair drier and brush to dry and style my hair while Anita starts adding nail polish to my fingernails. Anita moves to my face as the polish on my fingernails dry, trying to explain what she is doing but she might as well have been speaking Japanese for all I understood her. Anita finishes up my makeup about the same time that Joanna finishes putting my hair into a very fancy French braid. She adds some sparkly butterfly hair pins from my mom's collection.

While all this is going on, we engage in non-stop chatter analyzing my day and discussing tonight’s date.

Somewhere in the conversation, I tell Joanna about the counsel that I gave to George in anticipation of their Friday night date. I have to assure her that George is really one of the good guys. To myself, I just hope that he doesn't make a liar out of me.

Anita tells me how depressed Sam has been since Karen’s passing and how much he has changed in just the last day. She begs me to not crush his feelings.

When they finally declare me ready, I stand in front of the floor length mirror and my mental self-image experiences a major shift. The woman staring back at me is amazing. I twist and turn to view as much of me as possible, making the dress sway. It slowly sinks into my subconscious that this is me. The new me. The tall, willowy (I’ve lost at least forty-five pounds and have a much finer bone structure than I used to have) brunette with the long slender neck and shapely legs is me.

The sensations are like nothing I have ever experienced.

The feel of nylon on my freshly shaved legs is delicious and sexy. Having never worn a dress before, the feeling of it swishing around me as I move is a newly discovered sensuous delight. I resist the urge to do a twirl.

The heels on my shoes are taller, and narrower, than I wore to work today. I find the extra height to be a little disconcerting. The shoes don’t seem practical for winter weather, but they do look stunning.

When seeing a woman in heels pick her way across a snowy parking lot, I have often wondered why they don’t wear more sensible shoes. I am starting to understand why. The shoes look incredibly sexy.

This being a woman gig certainly has its perks. A big smile slowly grows on my painted lips.

“Somebody likes what she sees,” Joanna grins as she stands behind me looking in the mirror.

“She should,” Anita retorts, “We’ve spent an hour and a half creating this masterpiece. I just wish she had pierced ears. That pair of dangly diamond earrings in her jewelry box would be a great finishing touch.”

My two best friends grin and give each other a high five.

“We better take some pictures,” Joanna points out. “A girl’s first date is something to remember. Let’s go downstairs and use the fireplace as a background.”

It only takes a few steps for me to realize that, while the shoes may look sexy, it takes skill that I don’t have to walk gracefully in them. I have to keep a firm grip on the handrail to keep from falling down the stairs.

“Walk more on your toes and take small steps,” Anita advises.

After posing me for pictures in the living room, Joanna has me sit on the couch.

“I wish we had more time to work on your mannerisms,” she sighs. “You move like a man in a dress.”

She sits down beside me explaining how to smooth the skirt of my dress as I sit.

“And for god’s sake,” Anita adds pushing my knees together, “Always, always, keep your knees together.”

The doorbell rings, signally an all to early end to my lessons.

Joanna motions to me to stand up while Anita answers the door.

“Don’t stand like a man,” she admonishes me. “Feet together. This is not a wrestling match.”

Suddenly, what I am doing comes home to me and butterflies sprout in my stomach. I, a three quarters woman, am going on a date with a man. What am I thinking. Just a few days ago I was having the sex of my life as a man, totally captivated by the women who shared my bed. Not a thought had passed through my mind about spending time with a man. While sex is not on the agenda tonight, I have been gussied up to go out with another man. Another man. Just like me.

Well, maybe not just like me.

No, that’s not right I tell myself. That beautiful woman that I saw in the mirror is me and I am no longer a man. Even with my remaining vestiges of maleness no one will ever call me a man again. I am not quite a woman yet, but my self-image shifted while I was standing in front of the mirror. Deep in my heart I know that I like the new me. The question of the night is, does the new me like men? I suppose that I am about to find out.

I hear voices in the entry before Anita ushers her brother, who is carrying a small bouquet of flowers, into the living room.

When Sam first notices me he stops cold and stares. For a long time.

My god, I think to myself, he’s seeing a man in a dress. I suddenly get the urge to run and hide. All this work and he still sees the man in me. I just stand there with my hands clasped in front of me and look down.

Sam finally speaks.

“Wow, Karla you look amazing,” he says in awe.

“Not like a man in a dress?” I ask nervously.

“All I see here,” he tries to assure me, “are three beautiful women, one whose beauty eclipses the rest.”

Anita gives him a playful slap on the arm, “At least Karen taught you well.”

“Sam,” Joanna directs with all the pride of a mother seeing her daughter off to the prom, “Go stand by Karla. We need a picture to remember her first date.”

He presents me with the flowers before putting his arm around my waist for the picture. I notice that, even in heels, he is at least two inches taller than I am. He is tall and broad. His arm around me feels sturdy and makes me feel secure. And I can’t ever remember having these thoughts about a man.

Joanna and Anita both take pictures like proud parents. When they are done, Anita takes the flowers to put in a vase for me.

“I think we should go,” I suggest.

“It is a work night,” Joanna reminds us, “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, mother,” I say sarcastically, but with a smile.

She just sticks her tongue out at me.

“And be sure to treat her like a lady,” Anita admonishes her brother. “Karla is new to this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam snaps off a salute to his sister.

Sam helps me into my comfortable new winter coat then Joanna hands me my purse. “You don’t want to forget this.”

“Enjoy yourselves,” Anita calls out as I cling to Sam’s arm while making our way to his car.

“Not too much,” Joanna adds.

When Sam holds the door of the car open, I realize that I can’t just gracelessly climb in like I usually do and hesitate.

Joanna and Anita are still watching us from the doorway to my house.

Joanna calls out for all the neighborhood to hear, “Sit first then swing your legs in. Keep your knees together.”

I inelegantly do as she says and am happy when Sam closes the door.

The ten-minute drive to the Carriage House is a bit awkward, reminding me of my past first dates. It takes a little time to find common ground.

I am not sure why I am nervous. I suspect that little bit of me is worried that I will be caught out as a man masquerading as a woman. The new sensations of being dressed up as a woman, particularly in public, are also unknown territory and I am afraid of making a fool of myself.

Sam comes across as being a bit nervous too. Is he worried about being seen with a man in a dress? Or is it that he has not been on a date in a while?

After parking the car, I start to open the door.

“I will get that,” he tells me as he exits the car.

“Keep your knees together, Keep your knees together,” I mutter to myself as he opens the door and gives me a hand out. If not gracefully, I manage the exit maneuver without flashing anyone.

I cling to his arm for dear life as I try walking in heels on an icy path for the first time.

“I take it that this is your first-time wearing heels,” He comments.

“Yes,” I admit, “First time in a dress too. First time in panty hose and today was my first day in a bra. It is all taking some getting used to. I need more girl lessons.”

As I gingerly work my way up the icy steps to the covered veranda, he casually says, “Anita tells me you became somewhat of a YouTube celebrity today.”

The shock of his statement causes me to miss a step and I almost fall down the steps. Grabbing harder to his arm is the only thing that keeps me from going down. “Don’t tell me that you saw that awful video,” I cringe.

“No,” he says, “It got taken down before I heard about it.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” I am really happy that he didn’t see it. As a matter of fact, I wish that no one had seen it, but Joanna told me that it had over 4,000 hits before it was taken down. “The clip was taken out of context. Believe me, in context it wasn’t as crass as the video would make you think.”

Sam smiles, and gallantly opens the door for me as we enter the old restored Victorian home.

The Carriage house is at least a hundred years old, built when lots were large and the homes of the well to do had style. This Victorian house has a large, covered veranda and a turret on one corner with steep gabled roofs. The trim is detailed and finely crafted. The turret tower extends both stories and creates very pleasing nooks in the living room below and what was a bedroom above. The interior has been completely renovated in recent years, staying true to the building’s origins. The hardwood floors creak here and there and seem to magnify the sound of my heels clicking on the wood except where exquisite rugs have been strategically placed. I have never actually been here, but it was my parents’ first choice when they wanted a romantic night out.

The hostess behind the podium greets us and confirms our reservation. “It will be just a few minutes before your table is ready. May I take your coats?”

Sam helps me out of my coat and hands them to the hostess who disappears into an adjacent room while we take a seat on a small bench by the door. Sam taps my knee to remind me to put my knees back together.

I sigh, remembering, once again, that this girl stuff will take some getting used to.

“Thanks,” I blush as I snap my knees together and arrange the skirt of my dress neatly over them. I am just glad that this dress falls to just below my knees. I hate to think how I would manage a shorter cocktail dress. Thanks, mom, for not getting me one of those.

The hostess returns and studies her screen for a few moments before announcing that our table is ready. Wouldn’t you know it, our table is upstairs. It appears that I will get lots of practice in these heels tonight.

We wait for a young couple coming down the stairs before starting our ascent. I have to admire the gracefulness of the diminutive young woman in really tall stiletto heels and wearing a short cocktail dress. She practically flows down the steps modestly and without a care in the world.

I glance at Sam. I think that he is just enjoying her legs.

As the couple nears the bottom of the steps, the girl looks at me with a confused look.

“Miss Bronson?” she asks as if she doesn’t believe her eyes.

I take a closer look at her face before recognition sets in. Theresa is an accounting student at the local college and is interning part time with our accounting department. She also helps with reception when needed. She was also at today’s meeting.

Damn.

“Hello, Theresa,” I greet her cautiously. “How was dinner?”

“Great,” she brushes off my question. She has something else on her mind.

“I am so glad that I ran into you,” she gushes. “I want to tell you how great your presentation was today. That was very brave of you. I was just telling David all about it.”

“Ah,” I don’t know what to say, “Thanks. It needed to be done.”

“I am glad that you did,” she says passionately. “Some of the people were spreading all sorts of nasty rumors about you but you set them straight and you did it with class. Your prosthetics demo was hilarious and really made your point. I will never forget that.”

“I wish you would,” I grimace. “That stunt is already causing me grief.”

“I can imagine,” Theresa commiserates with me. “I saw the video and it was way out of context. But at least it rid us of Carlos. I think that the entire female staff was happy to see the last of that chauvinist bastard. From what I’ve seen and heard, he has been a thorn in the side of all the women in the office.”

She gives me an enthusiastic hug as she says, “On behalf of every woman at the firm, thank you for firing the bastard.”

“You’re welcome?” I gently hug her back, “But Jim fired him. Thank Jim.”

“Whatever,” she smiles at me as we break the hug.

The hostess gives a discreet cough.

“Sorry to hold you up,” Theresa winks at me. “Enjoy your dinner.”

The hostess waits patiently while I negotiate the stairs.

“You must not wear heels often,” she diplomatically observes with a gentle smile.

“First time,” I grimace. “I should have practiced more. Sorry to be so slow.”

“Take your time,” she says with a playful grin. “We don’t want to be filling out an accident report!”

----<0>----

We are seated in a private alcove without further incident. The candlelight and elegant furnishings are very romantic. I certainly hope that Sam doesn’t get any indecent ideas.

After ordering our dinners, we enjoy a glass of wine while we wait.

“Theresa is certainly a fan,” Sam observes. “I am intrigued about this meeting.”

“Really?” I ask. “It is just a part of a day full of new and difficult experiences.”

He just smiles at me.

“Okay,” I warn him. “You asked for it.”

I don’t hold much back. I start by telling him of waking up missing some of my male equipment and the decision to stay home until the change was complete. I continue by explaining how Jim and Celeste convinced me confront the issue head on with our office as a form of controlling the narrative.

It takes a while to give him the details of my presentation when he asks a number of insightful questions. He laughs at my description of the padding and silicone demonstration. He is still chuckling when our meals arrive.

While I pick away at my meal, I recount the flurry of activity precipitated by Carlos’s video. He comments that such quick damage control would never happen in a bureaucracy like the Air Force.

I ask him about his work. He tells me how the Air Force put him through dental school and has had claim on his services ever since, but that his commitment will be done next summer. His first duty station was on the east coast. When he was offered an overseas assignment in Germany, his wife, Karen, had jumped at the idea. She always wanted to spend time in Europe. They did have a great time there until she suddenly fell sick. Within a week, she was rushed into surgery to remove a fast-growing brain tumor. She died the next day.

His eyes stared off into the distance as he recounted his grief and how hard it is to go home each day to an empty apartment.

I reach out to hold his hand across the table when tears start to form in his eyes. After a moment, he regains his composure and looks into my eyes.

“I’m not the only one who has lost loved ones this year,” he acknowledges my own loss, “but sometimes it feels like it.”

I know how he feels.

“You loved her,” I gently say, “losing her leaves a huge hole. Losing my parents left a hole in my life that is still very much there. I can’t imagine losing a spouse with whom you had hopes and dreams. Tell me what makes you smile when you think about her.”

As we finish our main course, he proceeds to speak lovingly of a beautiful young wife who was full of energy and excited to explore the world. He talks of her smile and laugh. He smiles when he recalls snippets of stories about their shared experiences. He talks of how he loved to hold her in bed at night and watch her wake up first thing in the morning with a smile on her face. Every day was a new adventure for her, and she was eager to share it with him.

“In some ways,” he says looking into my eyes, “you remind me of her. You are straight forward, honest, and address problems head on. You let people know where you are coming from. She was like that.”

“I can see why you love her,” I say. “I think that she will always be in your heart.”

“I certainly hope so,” he says with a sad smile, “but my grief councilor tells me that I should start making room in my heart for a new love. He tells me that new love will bring sunshine back into my dark life. I have had a hard time taking steps in that direction.”

I reach across the table again and give his hand a squeeze of sympathy.

“Anita has been telling me about those notes from your deceased mother that you shared with your office. Do they help you move on?”

“They do open the door to believing in an afterlife,” I admit. “It is really nice to know that I have not totally lost connection with them. Thinking that we just might see each other again someday makes me feel much better about their loss."

“Karla,” he says with a seriousness that I haven’t seen in the short time that I’ve known him. “Can I share something with you privately. I haven’t told anyone about something that I think that only you can relate to.”

“I promise to keep sacred anything you want to share with me,” I tell him earnestly. “But don’t share anything with me that you don’t really want to.”

He looks contemplative before saying, “I received a note from Karen last week.”

A chill runs up my spine.

I wait for him to continue.

“She reaffirmed her love for me and said that it hurt her to see me so sad.” He says slowly. “She told me to be assured that she was well and missing me too but that she is in a place of light, happiness, and multiple exciting new adventures. She encouraged me to make some new friends and not to be afraid of new love. She specifically told me that I was going to be invited to a party on Monday and that I should be there. When Anita told me that I was welcome at your party, a chill washed over me. I would not have come to your party if Karen hadn't told me to. I am very glad that I did come because our conversation in your kitchen was better therapy than I have received from my counselor. After we talked, I knew that I wanted to get to know you better. I wanted to see your smile again.”

Oh boy, is this guy falling for me? I like him. He is great to talk to and he has the makings of a good friend, but with my changes can we leave it at that?

“I still feel that way and am sorry to have to leave tomorrow to return to duty. Can I call you from time to time?” He almost begs.

“Sam,” I cautiously say, not wanting to crush his hopes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share Karen's communication with you. You can be assured that I will keep it to myself."

I hesitate a moment before continuing, "Sam, I feel very comfortable with you and would dearly love to develop our friendship. Where this will go is anyone’s guess. Unfortunately, right now, my life is such a jumbled mess that throwing romance into the mix might just drive me around the bend. I don’t even know where I stand on forming romantic relationships with either men or women. If you are looking for a friend, then I’m your girl. I would love to be your friend. If you are looking for more, I can’t promise anything until I sort out my issues.”

“Fair enough,” he says with hope in his eyes. “Friends is good. I will take it. Just know, however, I’ve felt more alive in the past two days than I have since Karen passed and I credit that to you. Thank you, my friend.”

About this time, the waitress shows up with the bill and hints that they are getting ready to close for the night.

Sam smiles and hands over his credit card.

I am seeing that being the woman has its perks.

----<0>----

When we arrive at my house Sam walks me to the door “to make sure that your heels don’t do you in.”

He waits until I unlock the door and turn the lights on before taking me in his arms. I wasn’t expecting this but do not resist when he gives me a long slow gentle kiss. When done, I find that somehow my arms had found their way around his neck.

They are still there as we gaze into each other’s eyes. I can hardly break the gaze.

He kisses my forehead. “Thanks for a wonderful evening, Karla. I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany tomorrow.”

I go up on my toes and peck his lips. “I really enjoyed it too. Thank you. Talk to you soon?”

“I can hardly wait,” he smiles softly at me.

I quickly remove my traitorous arms from around his neck and duck into the house.

OMG! What did I just do?

----<Author's Note/Apology>----

Okay... so my initial research into what constitutes the twelve days of Christmas was a little off. The way I understand it, after further research, is that the night of December 25th is the First Night of Christmas, with December 26th being the First Day of Christmas. It doesn't really change the story except in the titles and a couple of minor statements, but once hit counts drop off I will be renaming the chapters with December 25th being Day 0 and January 6th as Day 12. For now, I will let the error persist until all chapters are posted.

All the chapters are written (and have been for weeks) and are just waiting for the correct day to release.

Until the change is made, the day numbers represent the days of the story instead of the Days of Christmas as originally intended.

Sorry!

----<0>----

Update 1/23/2023: I have updated the chapters as outlined above... Enjoy!

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 10

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I quickly remove my traitorous arms from around his neck and duck into the house. OMG! What did I just do?

Wednesday Jan 4, Day 10

It is really hard to get out of bed this morning. I had a restless night with a myriad of disturbing dreams that I’d just as soon forget for now. Most of them involved Sam.

It had taken me almost an hour to get ready for bed last night.

With dire warnings from Celeste, Anita, and Joanna echoing in my mind about the nasty effects of going to bed with my makeup on I had to take the time to remove my war paint. I also had some unusual clothing layers to remove and gently put away before attempting to put my hair into a loose braid for the night.

It felt particularly good to remove my bra and forms. My chest was itching like crazy and the breast forms were in the way of relieving the itch. I couldn’t help but notice the slight swelling starting behind my enlarged areolas.

I already miss the days of kicking off my shoes, stripping down to my underwear, throwing my clothes on the chair, and falling into bed.

The good thing about being a woman, however, is the warm comfy flannel nightgown. The cozy feel of the night dress is almost enough to keep me in bed for the rest of the day.

After shutting off my morning alarm, I lay in bed for a few moments taking inventory of my changing body. As I explore my chest, I am not the least bit surprised to find a small pair of female breasts.

Moving lower across the soft smooth skin of my belly, I find that my penis is now only about an inch long. Reaching past that, my scrotum seems to have shrunk into a semblance of female labia. There is no vaginal opening. Yet.

My bladder makes its presence known and urges me out of bed. Sitting down to pee, I realize that the stream is coming out a new place just below what’s left of my penis. I definitely won’t ever pee standing up again.

When I turn on the shower to warm up, I find a new shower cap hanging from a hook in the shower. I struggle to get all my hair in it but appreciate not having to deal with wet hair this morning.

Standing naked in front of the mirror after my shower, I cannot find any boy left in me. Newly acquired are two perky, but small, breasts and a definite set of starter curves. Turning to look at my rear end, I see that padded panties won’t be needed any longer. My breasts, curves and butt can stand to be filled out more, but they are definitely there. The shape that I see in the mirror is only found on the female of the species.

I head back to my room wondering what outfit mom will choose for me today. As expected, I find a new outfit on the bed along with today’s note.

Dearest Karla,

Your father and I are so happy with how well your date went last night. Sam is a great guy. You should keep in touch with him. Karen is very happy to see him smiling again.

As you have noticed, your transformation is almost complete. And so is your starting wardrobe.

Tomorrow we will tie up most of the loose ends and Friday it will come together on the day of Epiphany.

Your connection with your new self yesterday was a big step. It shows that you have accepted your new fate. This is important.

We know that your life has been hectic the last week, but don’t neglect your exercise. There are some yoga videos in the den. Try one out!

Have a fantastic day and let the world see the love and beauty in your heart.

Love always, Mom and Dad

P.S. Be open with the reporter today. He will write an article that will be very much in your favor.

The clothes today are very similar to yesterdays. The difference being a light lavender colored blouse instead of the white one with a matching black lingerie set consisting of a low-rise panty and a bra that appears to be padded, without silicone inserts. When I pull on the pants, I notice the hem dragging on the ground until I step into the new pumps with a three-inch square heel. As I complete the ensemble, I notice that the pants and blazer are tailored to show off my new feminine assets.

In the master bedroom, I find an array of cosmetics laid out for my use. Remembering my lessons from yesterday, I inexpertly apply the products. I even give myself a spritz of the perfume that the ladies put on me for last night’s date.

Picking up a hair brush I enjoy watching myself stroke my hair and decide to leave it loose today but set aside a hair clip and hair ties to go into my purse, just in case. Also on the vanity are my topaz necklace and a couple of bracelets that I put on. A very feminine watch is the last touch.

It is almost time to leave for work when the text group reminds me to send a picture of today’s note and gifts.

I send an image of the note and a full body selfie to the group.

Me: I have breasts, a butt, and curves. They are small but there.

Jane: No padding or silicone?

Me: No. It’s all me today, but the tag on the bra said it was a Wonderbra. Seems to enhance my new assets.

Anita: Any changes down below?

Me: Almost like yours without the opening.

Anita: Sam is getting ready to leave. He looks very happy. Good date?

Me: Great. Give him a hug for me and ask him to let me know when he gets there.

Joanna: Want to get together for lunch?

Jane: No kids in school yet. Sure, I can be there.

The rest quickly agree.

----<0>----

“Good morning, Miss Bronson,” Theresa cheerily greets me as I enter the office. She is at the reception desk this morning when I arrive at work. “You look very nice this morning. Very professional.”

“Good morning, Theresa, thank you,” I smile back at her. “I love your top this morning. Did your date go well last night? Oh, and you can call me Karla. We’re not that formal around here.”

Her grin gets bigger, “We had a great time, Karla! Isn’t the Carriage House the best?”

We chat about our respective dates for a few minutes before Celeste appears and she gives me a critical appraisal of my appearance. I think that my makeup skills earned a grade of B at best.

“Mr. Sanderson is looking for you,” Celeste says. “You should stop in to see him, Miss. Bronson.”

Theresa gives me a question look about the formal names. I just smile and shrug.

----<0>----

I find Jim going through some papers on his desk. He is not in a good mood.

“Before Christmas,” he growls, “you used to the first one in office. Now you saunter in late chatting with the ladies. Is this a new trend?”

“Things are in a state of flux right now,” I shrug off his complaint. “When I get this girl gig down, I should get back to my normal early arrival routine. At least I hope so.”

He scowls, “About that, it is probably not safe for you to be the only one in the building anymore. Be careful.”

“What do you really want to see me for?” I ask.

“You are not going to be pulling anything out of your bra today, are you?” He continues to scowl. “That stunt yesterday ended up costing me the afternoon. Do you have any idea how much trouble it is to fire someone?”

“No worries about that,” I smile, “this is all me today. I woke up this morning to breasts, an expanded rear end, and some basic curves.” I do a twirl for him. “What do you think?”

“No way,” he exclaims as he looks at me closely. “My teenage daughter used to complain that it took her almost a year in training bras before she graduated to the real thing. You got yours overnight?”

“I’ve become almost a woman in less than two weeks,” I shrug. “so breasts overnight is no big deal. My whole transition should be complete sometime tomorrow, I am told.”

“Anyway,” he gets to the point of our visit, “I think that we need a head shot of your new look on our website ASAP. I asked Celeste to arrange for a photographer to come by this morning.”

I tell him about my interview with John this afternoon and he agrees that it is a good idea. He suggests that I have him come interview at the office where we can arrange for him to talk to some of the people who had been at the infamous meeting.

Why didn't I think of that?

I call John and he is thrilled with the access. He promises to come over this afternoon.

Jim and I spend the next half hour working out some more of the details associated with starting up the new structural department.

The rest of the morning before the photo shoot, I try to spend at my design cubicle getting some actual work done. An unusual number of women stop by to chat for a few minutes each.

I have to call an architect to discuss a detail on a small building that we are working on together. He does not recognize my voice, so I have to reintroduce myself. It turns out that he had heard some misinformation about yesterday’s meeting, so I have to set him straight before we get down to business. From what he tells me, rumors of my transition are working their way through the professional community, and the rumors are not often accurate.

I am suddenly very glad that John will be publishing that article this weekend. I wish that it was sooner.

----<0>----

The photo shoot goes longer than I would have liked. The photographer has brought lights and a makeup artist with him, and she fusses over my face before and during the shoot. She also applies a curling iron to my hair to add some body and create waves. We get shots in the conference room, in my administrative office with my diploma in the background and outside in front of the office building. The photographer insists that the outside shots be done without my warm coat.

Damn it is cold!

As we are wrapping up the photo shoot, the photographer asks me if I would be interested doing a little modeling on the side. Something about my classic beauty being natural for the camera.

I am flattered, but the thought of being a model has never crossed my mind. I think that it would be a distraction that I don't need so I tell him that I already have a job, so probably not.

He counters that he can work around my engineering schedule if need be. Apparently he has a client for whom he thinks my look would be perfect for.

To avoid further pressure, I tell him that I'll think about it.

The long and short of the matter is that the photo shoot has made me late for lunch. The others have already ordered by the time I get there.

“Sorry ladies,” I apologize as I hang my coat over the back of my chair. “Very busy morning.”

“Look at you!” Anita smiles at me, “Do a spin for us before you sit down.”

I do, running my hands down my sides to emphasize my new curves.

“If this keeps up,” Joanna mutters, albeit with a little smile, “I could get jealous. You are starting to look pretty hot, my friend.”

The waitress shows up as I sit down, and I order a cranberry salad and an ice tea.

Jane looks closely at my face, “Did you do your makeup and hair this morning? It looks very professional, if not a little over done.”

“No,” I smile, “It was done by a professional. I just finished a photo shoot.”

“You are taking up modeling now?” Anita looks confused. “All you tall skinny girls get the best jobs. I could start to hate you. When did this happen?”

“I am not modeling,” I assure them. “Jim wanted some new publicity photographs given my change in status.”

“Well,” Joanna drawls, “If engineering doesn’t work out, maybe you can try modeling.”

“And soon,” Jane adds, “Youthful beauty doesn’t last.”

“Knock it off ladies,” I blush. “Any of you would be chosen to model before me.”

Anita, who is just sipping her drink, starts coughing, “Yeah, right. Are you blind? I swear that you’ve been taking some kind of magic potion. You get prettier every day and put the rest of us plain women to shame.”

“You ladies are certainly very attractive,” I correct her, “You and Joanna should try wearing the necklaces that mom gave you. Mine has certainly made a difference.”

“That’s what I am afraid of,” Joanna points out. “I like being a woman. I fear that it is a gender switcher.”

“Maybe it is just a feminizer,” I offer. “Since I didn’t start out female, I had to change for it to work for me.”

Joanna doesn’t look convinced.

“So,” Jane changes the subject, “No silicone or padding today?”

“Nope,” I grin, “this is all me, with a little help from a padded bra.”

“Small but functional,” Joanna comments.

“Hey,” I say, “I know it took you ladies longer that a day to grow yours. Give me some time. Maybe I will catch up to you.”

Jane looks down at her well-endowed D sized chest.

“Well,” I grimace. “Maybe not as big as yours.”

“Bryan likes them,” Jane smiles and admits, “But they are a pain to carry around. C would be optimal.”

“And down below?” Anita prompts.

“Flat,” I blush. “Well almost, there is still a very small vestige of my old ‘joystick’. Last I checked this morning, there are lips but no opening. I expect that to change by tomorrow sometime. My urethra has changed location too.”

“You seem pretty happy about that,” Jane observes.

“I have to admit,” I say, “that I am tired of being halfway in between. Also, I like mirrors a lot more now. I am finding femininity fascinating.”

“Oh no,” Joanna says in mock horror. “Your mother has turned you into a narcissistic nymph.”

I stick my tongue out at her, which earns giggles all around the table.

I proceed to update them on the change in plans with John, how he is coming to the office for interviews today. I also tell them about my conversation with the architect who told me that rumors were spreading within our professional community.

“The community grapevine is alive and well,” Jane informs me. “My neighbor asked me this morning as I was leaving for work if I had heard about the lewd transgendered engineer.”

“This is why you need to make sure that John gets the real story out in a manner that accurately reflects the situation,” Joanna points out. “Unfortunately, I am tied up in a deposition this afternoon and can’t make it, but I would really like to talk to him.”

“And Jane and I have an in-service training the rest of the afternoon,” Anita looks apologetic, “or I would be there too.”

“I think that he still wants to come by the house and get the grand tour and timeline,” I mention. “Why don’t you come over when you can?”

“I want to be there too,” Jane declares. “I will make sure that Bryan collects Amy after work. He can treat her to McDonalds and have some quality father/daughter time.”

“I am sure that I saw an eggplant parmesan in the freezer,” I tell them, “And there is some good wine in the fridge. We’ll make a dinner of it.”

“I will pick up some French bread,” Anita offers.

“I will pick up a pre-made salad,” Jane announces.

“I will find a dessert,” Joanna states.

“Oh,” I grin at them. “You all saw mom’s note. Bring your yoga stuff. We’ll have to work off our dinner.”

They all groan.

“Now for the important stuff,” Anita says enthusiastically. “We want all the dirt on your date with Sam.”

I spend the rest of the lunch answering their questions about my time with Sam. I don’t share with them the note that Sam received from Karen. I try to ignore the good night kiss too.

“So,” Joanna wanted clarification when I start to wrap up in the story, “You pulled the ‘let’s just be friends’ routine on him?”

“Yes,” I affirm. “My situation needs to sort itself out before I can contemplate forming a romantic relationship with anyone, man or woman. I don’t know where my sexuality stands.”

“And he still wants to stay in touch?” Anita asks.

“And you want to stay in touch with him?” Jane smiles knowingly.

“Sure,” I reply mystified as to where this is going.

“Did he walk you to the door?” Jane asks.

“Yes,” I am starting to see where this is going. “He is gentleman as well as a friend.”

“And he kissed you,” Anita accuses with a smile. “Didn’t he?”

My blush tells all.

“And you liked it,” Jane observed.

“Did you kiss him back?” Joanna continues the inquisition.

I can only nod affirmatively. I want to disappear.

“Well,” Joanna looks at our other two lunch companions then back at me. She concludes, “the jury returns the verdict that you are now a heterosexual woman.”

I make a show of glancing at my feminine watch.

“Oh, look at the time. Gotta run. Don’t forget your yoga clothes.” I say as I quickly stand up and pull on my coat.

“Chicken,” Joanna grins at me. “We will continue this interrogation tonight.”

Digging through my unfamiliar purse, I find some cash and drop it on the table to pay for my lunch.

“Bye,” I give them a finger wave and hurry for the exit as fast as my heels will allow.

----<0>----

Back at the office, I wave at Theresa as I head to the women’s restroom to do what women do there after dropping my coat in my office.

Yes, this is my first trip into this particular room. Fortunately, it is empty as I duck into a stall and sit to do my business. Wiping afterwards, I notice that, what had been my penis is only a nub, like an enlarged clitoris. I don’t see any evidence of it when I pull my panty up. This is going to take some getting used to.

While I am in the stall, two women enter the restroom but don’t head for stalls. They aren’t chatting either. After rearranging my outfit, I exit the stall to find both ladies leaning up against the counter obviously waiting for me. They must have seen me duck into the restroom.

“Hello, Rachel, Allison,” I nod at the women as I head to the sink to wash my hands.

“Hello Karl,” Allison returns the greeting and asks sounding genuinely curious, “Is it really true that you are turning into a woman?”

“What do I look like to you?” I ask.

“You showed us what you can do with padding and silicone yesterday,” Rachel reminds me. “Maybe it is all an illusion.”

“Ladies, you were around all week last week,” I sigh, “Take a closer look, did my face look like this? Was my hair this long? Were my shoulders this slender? Didn’t I weigh more? And, by the way,” I lift both breasts, “they may not be much, but they are all me today.”

“What about down there?” Rachel is curious, glancing at my crotch.

“As of this morning,” I blush, “I look just like you. There is nothing extra in my panties. I just don’t have a vaginal opening yet. I suspect that that issue will be resolved sometime tomorrow."

“Really?” Allison says with some disbelief. “That just can’t happen without surgery.”

“I would have agreed with you a couple of weeks ago,” I agree with her. “But I am living it. It is hard to ignore the evidence. The only explanation I can come up with involves a supernatural influence. Do you have a better explanation?”

They both still had unsure looks on their faces.

“What did my chest look like yesterday after I took out the breast form?” I ask.

“We didn’t get a good look,” Allison admits, “but from where I sat, it looked like you were flat chested.”

“I was,” I tell them. “You don’t have any recording devices going do you?”

They shake their heads in the negative.

“Let me see your phones,” I demand.

They extract their phones from their purses and show them to me. I have them put their phones on the sink counter as I unbutton the top couple of buttons on my blouse.

“This is a one-time offer,” I inform them. “We are all women here, mostly, so I will prove that my breasts are the real deal. They were, as you just recalled, non-existent yesterday. In exchange, you have to agree to simply testify to anyone who says otherwise that my breasts are real. You can even tell them that I showed you. Do we have a deal? If not, you can join me at the gym locker room this weekend and watch me get into my gym clothes.”

They looked at each other for a second before agreeing to the deal.

I lean forward and pull the top of my bra out sufficiently for them to see my two small mounds of flesh cupped in the bra.

“Go ahead,” I challenge them, “touch and tell me if that is silicone or something else.”

Both of them tentatively stroke a breast with a finger, causing me to jump. “That tickles.”

Both have the decency to blush.

“Are they real?” I ask them.

“You convinced me,” Rachel admits, “they are real. And you are telling us that you grew those overnight?”

“They weren’t there yesterday,” Allison points out for me.

“Damn,” Rachel says with a pout, “And it took over a year for mine to get that big once they started growing. That is just so unfair.”

Allison and I can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe they will be the same size as yours tomorrow,” I grin.

“Sorry to doubt you, Karla,” Allison apologizes, “but you have to admit that this is all hard to believe.”

“It is that,” I agree as I put myself back together. “No more peep shows though. You are my witnesses if anyone expresses doubts. I have all same the curves and external body parts that any woman in this office has. I can never go back to using the male facilities, don’t you think?”

With that, I wash my hands once more while they pick up their phones and we get back to work.

I decide to work in the privacy of my administrative office.

----<0>----

I am actually doing billable work when Celeste comes for me after the reporter arrives.

“I can’t believe your audacity,” she shakes her head in disapproval. “Did you really show off your breasts in the ladies’ room? Word of your latest stunt has spread throughout the office. Allison and Rachel both swear that it really happened. I just pray that no one videoed it. Please don’t strip down and waltz naked through the office as your next trick.”

I just grin at her, “I made sure that their phones were off, and on the counter where I could see them. They were still unbelievers but now they are converts. They are my witnesses to the miraculous overnight growth of my breasts.”

“Well,” she huffs, “they are definitely converts. They are your two greatest supporters in the office at the present time. Anyway, your reporter showed with his editor in tow. They are waiting for you in the conference room. Please keep your hands out of your bra. I would lock up my daughters if they pulled stunts like that.”

I stop by the ladies’ room to check my hair and makeup before proceeding to the conference room.

Fortunately, there is no one in the restroom to ask for further proof of my transformation.

----<0>----

Entering the conference room, I find Jim chatting with John and a thirty something woman. The woman stares intently at me as I make my way into the room.

“I am glad that you could join us, Karla,” Jim says with a touch of sarcasm.

“Sorry,” I apologize, “I just found out that you were here.”

John stands up to shake my hand, “Well, Karl, you have certainly changed since I last saw you at the New Year’s party. I have to say that you look like your sister, if you had one. The resemblance to your former self is very strong.”

“It is good to see you too, John,” I say. “thank you for taking the time.”

“Karl,” he introduces me to his companion, “I’d like you to meet Anne Barnes, our business editor.”

Turning to Anne, I shake her hand, “Pleased to meet you Ms. Barnes.”

She acts a little distant, but is cordial enough, “Please to meet you too, ah, Karl, or is it, Karla?”

I shrug as I find a seat at the table, “Legally, I am Karl, but the name doesn’t fit me anymore. The guests at my bowl party last Monday took a poll and decided that Karla is currently a better fit. Once my transformation is complete, probably tomorrow, I will work on legally changing my name to Karla. My parents approve.”

“I thought your parents died in a car accident a year ago,” Anne questions me. “I remember editing an article about the impact of your father’s death on the firm he founded.”

“That’s very true,” Jim adds “That is one of the very strange things about this whole mess. Karla, why don’t we start with your presentation to the office yesterday?”

“Oh yes,” John says enthusiastically, “I think that meeting is going to be a legend. I showed the video to Anne, by the way.”

I blush, “Ms. Barnes…”

“Please,” she stops me, “Anne works better.”

“Thank you, Anne,” I then continue “That video was way out of context. Ask anyone who was there, except maybe Carlos.”

Over the next half hour, I reprise my presentation and show them images of all the notes - except Saturday's! - that I have received to date and images of the ‘gifts’ left behind. I also chronicle the daily physical changes that I have experienced, going into far more detail than I did yesterday.

“This is all extremely hard to believe.” Anne frowns. “I came along with John because I want to make sure that the paper is not embarrassed by an elaborate fraud. If this is all true, it makes for a great story, but if we publish it and find out later that it is fraud no one would ever trust the paper again. What can you do to convince me?”

“What we want is to control the narrative,” Jim points out. “We want the truth to be out there for all the world to see in an effort to stem malicious misinformation that will harm our firm and Karla. What will it take to convince you that this is not a hoax?” Jim asks the question that is on my mind.

“Physical evidence of some kind, witnesses to the ongoing changes, competent medical opinion,” She lists her requirements.

“I am not sure what physical evidence we can provide,” I think out loud, “except possibly myself. I have been taking selfies every morning which document the daily changes. Witnesses to my slow transformation are plentiful. In fact, when you come to the house when we are done here, I have three girl friends that have been close to me through the change that will be there to talk to you. In the meantime,” I look to Jim for agreement, “There are a couple of hours left in the workday. You could wander through the office and pick anyone you want to interview. Many of them were out on vacation last week, so your best bet are people that have been here since Christmas.”

Jim nods his agreement. "We'll put out an announcement to the office that you will be interviewing."

“What about medical evidence?” John asks.

“When I noticed things changing, I went to see my family physician, Dr. Lake, twice last week,” I tell him. “He ran a whole bunch of tests. He found that I was male to the chromosome level but that my blood work was unexplainably consistent with that of a mid-20s female. He noted significant physical changes between the visits that indicated that I might be changing gender. After reviewing my mother’s notes, he decided that the changes were outside his ability to reverse. We made an appointment for Friday morning, the day that the notes indicate as the conclusion of the transformation process, to document the full extent of my changes. I can authorize him to talk to you about my condition, if that helps, but we are not scheduled for the full exam until Friday.”

“You are certainly being free with your private information,” Anne observes.

“Since I have not done any thing wrong, I have nothing to hide,” I look her in the eye. “What is happening to me is beyond anyone’s control. I need to get that message out before some bigoted idiots damage our firm’s reputation.”

“Not to mention your own,” she adds.

Anne and John take full advantage of the remaining workday to interview our staff. We agree to meet at my house when they are done there. They accept my invitation to join my friends and I for a working dinner out of the freezer. I tell them that dinner will be informal as the ladies and I are planning on doing yoga this evening. I jokingly offer to let them join us if they want to.

----<0>----

I am running a little late by the time I arrive at my house. The three ladies are already there putting together the dinner when I walk in the door. After a hug from each, I am told to go slip into something more comfortable.

“I can’t wait to get out of this bra,” I complain, “It was loose this morning, but now I feel like I am overflowing the cups.”

“Our little girl is growing up,” Anita teases me with a smile.

“And fast,” Joanna adds melodramatically, “How quickly the years pass.”

I, maturely, stick my tongue out at them.

“I believe your mother has been here,” Jane laughs at our antics. “Someone has laid out some exercise clothes for you upstairs. Go change, they will be more comfortable than what you are wearing.”

“Set the table for two more,” I call to them as I ascend the stairs as fast as my heels will allow. “John and his editor will be here soon.”

A quick look in my bedroom shows only a neatly made bed and tidy room. I wonder if mom will continue to clean up after me when the changes are complete. The maid service is much appreciated.

The aforementioned clothes I find laid out on the bed in the master bedroom.

I kick off my shoes and carefully remove my work clothes and hang them in the walk-in closet. With a sigh of relief, the bra finally comes off.

Yes, the girls have grown today. Turning to look at my butt, I am pretty sure that it is even more feminine this evening.

Standing in front of the mirror, wearing only my panties and necklace I am mesmerized by the beautiful young woman smiling back at me. There is no sign of Karl, only the very attractive Karla. I find that I like what I see.

“Do I detect some narcissism?” Jane playfully asks as she walks into the room unannounced.

“Eek!” I squeak in surprise, reflexively covering my breasts. “You scared me!”

She laughs, “There’s nothing here that I don’t see every day. I thought that you might need some help with the exercise clothes. I know that this is all new to you.”

“Excuse me,” I apologize feeling a sudden pressure in my bladder, “I really need to pee.”

As I duck into the en suite bathroom and close the door, Jane calls out to me.

“I am guessing that your mother didn’t teach you much about feminine hygiene.”

“The subject never came up,” I admit through the door as I quickly drop my panty and sit quickly on the throne. The relief is instantaneous as the flow starts.

Calling through the door, she instructs me, “There is an unpleasant situation called yeast infection. You really don’t want to get one.”

“How do I avoid getting one?” I ask as I reach for the toilet paper. I have noticed that wiping after peeing is a new necessity. Everything down there gets damp. Unlike the old days, I can’t just shake it off and stuff it back in my pants.

“When you wipe,” she continues the instruction, “wipe from front to back. Always.”

“Okay,” I try applying the lesson as I dry off my nether region. I feel for a vaginal opening but still don’t find one.

Pulling my panty back up, I call through the door as I wash my hands, “Can you hand through some clothes, Jane?”

She sounds a touch exasperated, “Just come out, Karla. You will probably need some help with this stuff. We are both women here.”

Reluctantly, I open the door and slowly walk into the room.

Jane just shakes her head and sighs. “I just can’t believe your change. In less than two weeks you transform from a modestly handsome geek, to this gorgeous butterfly. I would kill to have a body like yours again and we are the same age. It doesn’t seem fair somehow. I have been fighting to lose weight from my last pregnancy and find myself pregnant again. It will be a battle to ever be slender like you again.

“Anyway, girl, we need to get some clothes on you,” she shakes off her longing and gains a serious expression. “Those nylon panties are great for keeping your clothes from clinging, but they are terrible for exercise, and we are going to get some exercise when your reporter is gone. Take ‘em off. Your mother left you some nice cotton panties on the bed.”

After stripping off my nylon panty, I take the black cotton brief that she is holding out and quickly pull it on.

“One of the banes of the female existence are visible panty lines, or VPL for short,” she teaches me. “I doubt that you noticed, but those panties are seamless and designed to be worn under snug fitting clothes without showing VPL. They are perfect for wearing under your yoga pants. Also, they are black and won’t show through. Never wear colored or patterned underwear when wearing snug or light-colored women’s pants unless you want the whole world to see what you have underneath. Black, white, or nude undies, depending on the colors you are wearing, are best.”

She hands me some kind of magenta bra/top thing. I hold it for inspection.

“That, Karla,” she informs me, “is a crop top with built in bra. It is a little bit of a pain to put on, it but will support your new assets and absorb any sweat you produce.”

“My college girlfriend told me that women don’t sweat, they glisten.” I recall from my past.

“Whatever you call it,” she says while rolling her eyes, “you need clothing that will absorb it.”

It is a struggle, but I pull the tight device over my head. Jane helps me pull it into place and shows me how to settle my breasts.

Jane hands me the yoga pants. “Let’s see you wiggle your cute bum into these,” she says with a grin.

I try pulling them on like a pair of jeans. It doesn’t work.

“You wore pantyhose last night?” she asks.

“Yes,” the light comes on in my mind about how to solve my current dilemma. “I was taught to roll them up my legs. I assume that I should do something like that?”

“You got it,” she smiles. “You are a fast learner.”

Standing in front of the mirror again, the woman smiling back is even cuter than she was when she was only wearing her panties. I can’t take my eyes off myself as I turn various ways in order to see the whole package.

“Definitely narcissistic,” Jane laughs. “Your makeup won’t do well when you start to ‘glisten’, sweetheart. You better go take it off while I change into my yoga clothes.” I hadn’t noticed her gym bag by the door.

I glance at Jane through the vanity mirror as I remove my makeup and as she changes. She complains about her body, but I think that she is still pretty attractive. She could use a little toning, but I see lots of women in much worse shape.

As we finish up, Jane tosses me my alma mater football jersey, “Put that on Karla, there will be a man present and we don’t want him getting too uncomfortable.” She grins. I see that she is wearing a similar shirt.

She tosses me some very short socks and points to the feminine athletics shoes. When we are both dressed, she shows how to put my hair up, like hers, in a high ponytail using one of the scrunchies from my mother’s hair accessories.

I stand, once again, in front of the mirror admiring the young woman that I have become. Jane joins me. She has nothing to be ashamed of. She is cute and I tell her so. I spontaneously give her a girly sideways hug. She is a couple of inches shorter than me and when we to the girl thing of bringing our heads together I find mine on top of hers.

With watery eyes, I tell her, “I love you guys. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me.”

She gives me a squeeze, “I love you too, Karla, but I think we need to get moving. I am sure that dinner is getting cold.”

----<0>----

When we get back downstairs, we find that Jane is right. Dinner is actually on the table where Anita and Joanna are chatting with John and Anne who had arrived while Jane and I were changing.

It turns out that Joanna had helped Anne with her divorce a year ago and they are already friends. John and Anita recognize each other from high school and are comparing notes on common friends and experiences.

John is the first to notice me when Jane and I enter the room and his jaw drops. When Anne notices, she seems particularly surprised by my appearance.

“I have interviewed several post-op transexuals over the years,” she tells me with admiration, “But none of them can rock the yoga chick look like you do.”

I see that she still doesn’t fully understand what is going on here.

Joanna comes to my aid, “That’s because she’s not post-op anything, Anne. Her transformation is not an accomplishment of medical science. Without any assistance from pills or surgery she has been morphing into a female for the last week and a half.”

John adds, “I have known Karl since childhood. Last week, he looked like a very slightly more feminine Karl but was definitely a male. Now, Karla looks like a totally female version of her former self. It is eerie.”

Over dinner, Jane, Anita, Joanna and I go over the events of last eleven days, leaving out certain rather personal and intimate details. We answer a myriad of probing questions from the reporters.

After dinner, we give them the grand tour of the house showing them where notes and gifts were found. Joanna and Anita open every drawer and closet in the master bedroom and explain when each of the feminine items had appeared and the effects each revelation had had on my transformation. John seems uncomfortable around all the feminine accessories, but Anne is very much intrigued and is not shy about examining virtually everything. She notices that all the clothes are brand new.

With a stop at the home office to use the computer there, I scroll through the daily selfies for our guests. This is the most telling evidence of my gradual change. I end up putting the selfies and images of the notes on a thumb drive and hand it to John.

“Please be discreet with all this,” I caution him. “I am trusting you with my reputation. I am hoping that you are professional enough to not turn this into a tabloid article.”

“I will be factual,” he promises.

After we retire to the living room, Anne asks, “Where did you stash your male clothing? I haven’t seen any.”

“It is all gone,” I answer her question. “As each feminine item appeared, the corresponding male item disappeared. It seems that my mother doesn’t want me trying to turn back. She has been burning my bridges for me.”

John asks, “Are you really sure about that the Christmas tree and various gifts aren’t some kind of elaborate prank?”

“John,” I say patiently, “we’ve been over this. I have searched the house high and low, put tells on all entry points, and looked for footprints in the snow. Some of these events happened while I was awake and in the house. I never heard anyone or saw any signs of activity. Even still, if it was an elaborate prank, how do you explain the new me?”

“I get it,” he holds up his hands in surrender, “I believe you. It is just that all this just defies logic. I am not sure how to write this up without sounding like a delusional crackpot.”

“We can work on this together,” Anne tells him. “This may be the most interesting story of the year but we need to get it right.”

Turning to me, she says, “Karla, we rarely get anyone to open up so completely. Thank you for the access. I am like John, I am convinced but this story is shaking some of my thoughts on reality. How do we tell it in a factual, but believable manner is something that we’ll have to sleep on and discuss in the morning. We have a 3 PM deadline tomorrow to get this in Sunday’s paper. Somehow, we will make this work.”

“I am going to start working on this tonight,” John declares. “There is more than enough material to work with and I am satisfied that I know what the facts are. I want to have an outline, at a minimum, ready for you in the morning, Anne.”

“Karla,” Anne asks, “Can you see if you can get a good image from the photographer for the article? I am thinking about something that shows you in your work environment would be best. We probably should focus on the impact of your changes on the business.”

“I will see what I can do,” I promise.

“Thanks for dinner, ladies,” Anne says as she gets ready to go. “We better let you get to your yoga.”

----<0>----

“That went well,” Jane offers after our guests leave.

“I think that we can trust Anne to get it right,” Joanna informs us. “She is a very smart and honest woman and I think that she understands the situation.”

“I certainly hope so!” I wish. “Anyway, it is done. Let’s do some yoga!”

The three ladies have brought their yoga mats and various props with them in large bags. While Anita and Joanna are changing, I loaded up the video and go looking to see if mom left a mat and accessories for me. I find them up in my room. I realize that it doesn't phase me to know that they weren’t there during the house tour.

For the next hour we bend and stretch in ways that I never thought possible. We are all glistening when it was over. The others giggle and laugh at my poor attempts at some of the poses. It is painfully apparent that I just don’t have a feel for how this body works.

“Karla, I can see why your mother wants you to take up yoga,” Jane smiles at me. “You are attacking it like you would in your male body. I think that your new female body reacts a little differently. Yoga will help you to get more in tune with the new you.”

“I agree,” Anita chimes in, “There are still a lot of vestiges of your male mannerisms in the way you move your body.”

“That’s right,” Joanna agrees, “Graceful, you are not. Keep up the yoga and wear those heels to work and you may develop some feminine grace.”

“You might consider signing up for yoga classes at the gym.” Jane suggests.

“I think that I will just practice here for now,” I say. “I’m not ready to be seen screwing up like this in public.”

“Chicken,” Joanna challenges me with a grin.

We all laugh.

----<0>----

After the three ladies leave, I notice a new text message on my phone.

Sam: Made it to east coast. Waiting for the hop across the pond. Do you have time to talk? Leaving in an hour.

Damn… he sent this several hours ago-about the time we were eating dinner.

I don’t know if text messages find their way to Germany, but I send one anyway.

Me: Very sorry to miss you. Busy night with reporters. Let me know when you get to Germany. Thank you for last night. I really enjoyed your company.

----<0>----

I step out of the shower after washing off the ‘glisten’ and find that mom has stuck again.

As I dry myself off, I eye the small pile of flimsy feminine fabric that she left on the counter.

I wrap myself in the towel as I saw Judy do when we lived together before investigating this new gift. It turns out to be a revealing see-through baby doll nightie. The top has a built-in bra with a see through ‘skirt’ that looks like it will barely cover my bottom. The matching bikini panty is also very flimsy and see through. I would be surprised if the whole ensemble weighed more than quarter pound.

I know that it is futile, but I carry the barely there fabric into my room looking for the flannel nightgown that I have been using lately. It is not where I left it. Of course.

When I try to open the drawer containing nightgowns and pajamas in the master bedroom it won’t open. It is stuck. And, it appears, so am I.

It is either go to bed naked, or wear the baby doll.

I sigh as I drop my towel and work out how to get the top on. The panty is a no-brainer but the top takes a little thought.

Looking in the mirror, I see a sexy woman that would have had me drooling just two weeks ago. After a few seconds of posing, I can feel my self-image shifting even further to the feminine perspective. Somehow, I just feel like this is me. This is what I was meant to be. And I like it.

I take a selfie to memorialize the moment.

As I crawl into bed, I am reminded of the first time I was ever with a woman wearing something like this. It was the day that Judy moved into my apartment. I had been delayed at school a little later than usual. When I arrived home, the small apartment was lit by dozens of candles. I found Judy lounging on the bed wearing something not unlike this. She had this hungry look in her eyes. That turned out to be the best night of sex in our short time together.

I wonder what mom is thinking. I am just glad that there is not a male around to see me like this.

I can’t help but feel sexy, and that excites me in a completely different way than when Judy seduced me.

I am pretty sure that I know what Sam’s reaction would be.

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 11

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I wonder what mom is thinking. I am just glad that there is not a male around to see me like this. I can’t help but feel sexy, and that excites me in a completely different way than when Judy seduced me. I am pretty sure that I know what Sam’s reaction would be.

Thursday Jan 5, Day 11

As my morning alarm does its best to rouse me, I groan and snuggle deeper into my bed. Shortly after going to bed, I awoke to a dull cramping in my abdomen. I took it to be indigestion so got up to take an antacid.

That didn’t help.

I wondered what I ate at dinner that didn’t agree with me. I’ve always hated eggplant, but somehow it tasted very delicious last night.

I don’t think it was the eggplant parmesan.

By three AM, the cramping relented and I eventually fell into a deep sleep.

Finally turning off the alarm, I snuggle back under my comforter and enjoy the lack of pain. In fact, I feel a warm satisfied glow throughout my body and revel in all the new sensations. Every part of my body seems foreign and new. And exciting. My barely there nightwear feels very sexy even with my eyes closed.

Without opening my eyes, I can feel the weight of my new breasts and an emptiness in my groin. My new curves rest differently on the mattress than my former male body. My hips are definitely wider and my shoulders narrower. My breasts feel much fuller than they did yesterday. The long hair in a nighttime braid tickles my newly sensitive skin. My sexy lingerie sends tingles over my body. I shiver in delicious pleasure.

I could get used to this, I smile.

Running my hand down my smooth, soft belly, I reach my nether regions and continue over my panty clad crotch. The flatness feels alien to me in a fascinating way. I sort of miss my old friend, but I smile thinking that I can adjust to this. Slipping my hand in my panties, I quickly discover the electrifying pleasure of my new clitoris. Continuing their exploration, my fingers discover the moist opening of my new vagina. I tentatively insert a finger to verify that it is there.

It would appear that my transformation is complete.

Resigning myself to starting my day, I stumble into my bathroom and sit to take care of necessary business.

When I start preparing for my morning shower, it becomes clear that things around the house have changed yet again. The shower curtain is gone. So are all my bathroom supplies. There is just a hand towel on the rack and the water won't run in the shower. Fortunately, the sink and toilet still work!

I get the feeling that someone doesn’t want me getting ready for the day in this bathroom.

Everything I need to start my morning routine I find in the master bedroom en suite so, I start my day there.

With my hair wrapped in a towel after my morning shower, I wrap another towel around my torso before stepping into the master bedroom. On the bed is my ensemble for the day along with the expected note.

Karla sweetheart,

Tonight is the twelfth night of Christmas and tomorrow your journey will be complete. Your transformation began Christmas night and will be complete tomorrow on the day of Epiphany.

Your father and I are so excited for you.

As you have guessed, your transformation is now virtually complete, but you will have one final experience tomorrow morning to complete your journey. Sorry about the uncomfortable night, but we couldn’t find a way to reorganize your internal organs and make final adjustments to your skeletal structure without it.

Yes, you are now 100% female, right down to the chromosome level. There have been some slight adjustments to your DNA, but Dr. Lake will discover that your DNA is a 99% match to the sample he took last week. You should move up your appointment to see him today. I have a feeling that his last appointment of the day will be canceling first thing this morning.

In celebration of your completed transformation, I have chosen an outfit that will unambiguously flaunt your new body. I hope that you enjoy it.

You should consider getting your ears pierced. There are several sets of earrings in your collection that would look great today but you are not prepared to wear them.

Also, it is past time for you to move out of your childhood bedroom. We have taken the liberty of moving everything into this room.

Enjoy your day,

Love always, Mom (and Dad)

P.S. I think that you will be very pleased with John’s article when it comes out on Sunday. He has been working hard on it most of the night.

It takes me almost half an hour to dry my hair, do a barely adequate job of applying makeup, then start dressing. I think that I am going to miss the simplicity of my former life every time I have to get ready to go anywhere.

However, looking in the mirror, I see that all the extra work is worth the effort.

Maybe Jane is right. Maybe I am narcissistic. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, I can’t help but smile at the vision before me. I pose a little, trying to see as much of the woman that I am as I can.

Today’s selfie shows a tall slender woman with a beautiful, fully female, figure and face. She is wearing a stretchy cream-colored knee length sweater dress with a V neck and has a small black belt emphasizing a slender waist and fully feminine rear end. She has on matching tights and black boots with a three-inch block heel. Her long hair is free flowing, and she has a huge smile on her face. The only jewelry that she is wearing is the topaz necklace and a women’s watch.

When I grab my phone to text my three friends, my heart gives a little flutter as I notice a text from Sam.

Sam: Finally made it. Thinking of you, and hope you are doing well. Jet lagged, going to bed early.

The text arrived when I was in the shower.

Me: Sleep well, my friend. My transition journey is virtually complete as of this morning, tonight being the twelfth night of Christmas it will be completely done by tomorrow morning. Thinking of you.

Smiling, I add today’s selfie.

I text the selfie and note to my three friends.

Me: Tonight will be the twelfth night of Christmas and it is almost completely done.

It doesn’t take long for the replies to start rolling in.

Joanna: Goodbye Karl, Hello Karla. Love the smile. I think that we need to start working on changing your legal documents.

Anita: Girl, you rock those boots! I need a pair.

Jane: Awesome! I am jealous.

Anita: Let’s talk about it over lunch. I will do whatever it takes to get away from the school today.

Jane: Me too.

Joanna: I have a lunch gig, but will cancel.

Me: Thanks ladies. You are the best. Usual place and time?

----<0>----

“Setting a new standard, are you Miss Bronson?” Celeste eyes me critically as I walk into the office a few minutes after eight.

“I am trying to be here early,” I apologize for being late, again. “But this girl stuff takes more time than I am used to. I will be back to my normal schedule once I figure it out.”

“I don’t think she’s referring to your punctuality,” Theresa grins. “I love your look. The boots are awesome.”

“Take your coat off and give us a spin,” Celeste directs.

As I am taking off my coat, Rachel arrives at work.

“I should go home and change,” she mutters.

“You and me both,” Theresa agrees.

Jim shows up in the reception area about this time to drop some papers at the front desk.

“Showing off I see, Karla,” He observes. “I take it that everything is real?”

“100 percent according to mom,” I confirm.

“Good,” he says, “now maybe we can get some work done around here without all the drama of your transition. Do me a favor, please, and get your doctor to confirm it. You look good, by the way. Stop in and see me in my office, if you please, when you get done modeling for the ladies.”

When he disappears back into his office, I smile at the women and head to mine to drop off my coat and purse before going to see him.

“I have been thinking about our new structural department,” Jim gets right to the point once I settle into a seat. “We are going to need more work once we hire another engineer and draftsman. Do you have any contacts with New City Architecture? I hear that they are having a hard time finding a local structural firm that they can work with.”

“I’ve met one of the partners, Whitney Owens,” I tell him. “She seems nice enough. I don’t know Rebecca Pierce, the other partner. Word on the street is that they tried working with Mark Holt’s office recently and it didn’t go well.”

“Mark is a good engineer,” Jim contemplates what I told him. “I’ve known him for years. I wonder what went wrong?”

I just shrug. “I hear that he’s pretty old fashioned. I don’t think that he has any women on his technical staff. Maybe that was a problem for New City.”

“New City seems to be getting a lot of contracts these days,” Jim observes. “I’d like you to try to establish contact with them and see if there is a possibility of working with them on a project or two. If we could get one of those, you can start on it and we can have our structural department profitable from day one. Maybe your new feminine status might help.”

“I’ll see what I can do next week after the newspaper article goes out.”

“How is that going?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, “Anne and John seemed to be understanding and cordial when they left last night. Mom said in today’s note that I will be pleased with the result.”

“God,” Jim groans, “I really hope so. This whole thing could blow up on us.”

Before getting into the day’s work, I call Dr. Lake’s office and the photographer.

Sure enough, Dr. Lake can see me at four o’clock this afternoon. No surprise there.

I also ask them to cooperate with my reporter friends. I have to fax over an information release authorization. I don't know why medical offices don't join the 21st century and accept email these days.

The photographer is a little tougher. He has not gotten around to post-processing yesterday's images. When I tell him that it is for a newspaper article, and that he will be credited, he still grumbles that providing me with images so fast will cut into his other commitments. Finally, he agrees to move my images to the front of his queue when I promise to model wedding dresses later this month for one of his clients. He drives a hard bargain, however, when I agree to his deal to model the dresses I insist that I will only do so on the condition that I won't be required to model wedding lingerie. We agree on a fee for the modeling and I receive a couple of very nice images via email about an hour later. I forward them on to John along with telling him that Dr. Lake will talk with him.

My favorite image from yesterday's shoot is a low angle, full body shot taken in front of the office. There is snow on the ground, and I am wearing a white hardhat with the company logo on it. My long hair is cascading in waves over my shoulders. I have my arms crossed under my breasts and have a big smile plastered on my face. Behind me is the front of our office building with the logo and sign plainly visible. It looks like I am ready to take on the world. Since I am not wearing my coat, my feminine curves are there for all to see.

The rest of the morning is spent doing the work that I get paid for. Beside lots of compliments on my attire, it almost feels like a normal day.

----<0>----

Once again, I am a few minutes later than my friends when I arrive at the cafe. This is getting to be a bad habit. Before all this happened, I was never late for anything. Ever. If anything, I was always the first to arrive.

“Damn,” Joanna mutters as I sit down at the one remaining seat at what is becoming our table. “Nobody said to dress up today.”

She is wearing a rather expensive pantsuit with killer ankle boots and looks fantastic.

“I sent you the text of what I am wearing this morning. This is just what my mother set out for me today.” I remind her.

My two schoolteacher friends also look good.

“All of you are very attractive today,” I point out, “as usual.”

Anita rolls her eyes, “I only see one supermodel here, Karla, and that’s you.”

I decide that now is not the time tell them about my upcoming modeling gig.

“Thanks for the compliments,” I respond. “But this is my mother’s fault. She chose my outfit for today.”

“What else did she bring you?” Jane asks.

We are interrupted by the waitress, who takes our orders before we resume our conversation.

“She moved me into the master bedroom as you saw in the note,” I tell them. “I didn’t do an inventory this morning.”

Remembering my sleepwear last night I blush.

“What?” Joanna notices the blush.

“Well,” I blush even brighter. “She did kind of force me into some new sleepwear last night.”

“What do you mean ‘forced’?” Jane asked.

“Somehow, my nightwear drawer was firmly stuck and wouldn’t open so I had to either go to bed naked or wear what she laid out for me,” I continue my blush.

“Don’t drag this out, Karla,” Joanna rolls her eyes. “What did she lay out?”

“It is embarrassing,” I cringe

“Out with it Karla,” Anita demands.

“Okay,” I lean forward and whisper, “a very sexy baby doll set.”

“I bet you took a selfie wearing it,” Jane accurately guesses.

I just nod affirmatively, knowing that they will bug me until I show them. I pull my phone out of my purse then bring up the image before passing it around the table.

“Damn,” Jane says, “you should be a lingerie model. I have a very similar one which I'm sure contributed to both of my pregnancies.”

“I don’t have one,” Joanna declares. “I’ve thought about it, but I think I prefer a nice flannel nightgown this time of year. If not warm, Karla, at least you look very sexy.”

“I have one too,” Anita admits. “My last asshole boyfriend would beg me to wear it, not that it stayed on long when I did. You better not show this to Sam.”

“Speaking of Sam,” Anita changes subject. “Have you heard from him?”

“I’ve had a couple of texts,” I admit. “He arrived safely in Germany. We are going to try a Whatsapp call tonight here, tomorrow morning there.”

The ladies exchange knowing looks.

“What?” I ask.

They all start giggling.

Fortunately, lunch arrives at this point.

The rest of our very pleasant lunch passes chatting about a variety of topics. I enquire into the happenings of their lives. It is nice to shift the center of attention away from me for a change.

Jane and Joanna are both busy this evening, but Anita offers to go with me to the mall tonight to get my ears pierced at some jewelry shop called Claires. She thinks that it will be fun to introduce me to fine art shopping. We agree to meet up at the mall after my doctor’s appointment and grab dinner at the food court after getting my ears pierced.

----<0>----

The afternoon passes quickly as I begin to settle back into the routine of work. Most people seem to have gotten over the novelty of my transition. There are very few questions about my status, but I confirm to those that ask that the change is complete. There are still a few unbelievers out there, but they have more important things to attend to and none of them have been able to explain what they are seeing.

Almost before I realize it, it is time to head off the Dr. Lake’s office.

----<0>----

“Well,” Dr. Lake says removing his latex gloves, “that about wraps it up.”

I am laying on my back in a very compromising position. My legs are in something called stirrups and Dr. Lake, assisted by a female nurse, has just completed my first pelvic exam. It was not at all fun. The weighing, measuring, blood draw, ultrasound, and lots of prodding in sensitive areas occurred before the pelvic exam. The other tests seemed trivial compared to this latest indignity.

“Shaunna will help you out of this torture device and you can dress. Then we can talk,” He tells me.

Damn, but it takes a long time to reassemble a feminine ensemble.

“Well doc, am I going to live?” I grin once we get back together.

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Back to that again, are we?”

I grin at him. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“I am pleased to announce that you are a perfectly healthy young woman in her mid-twenties,” He gives me the good news. “I am not sure how you feel about this, seeing as you were a healthy male just a week or so ago."

I shrug, “Does it really matter? I am just happy to be healthy. So, no problems?”

“Today’s ultrasound and pelvic exam are pretty clear that you have all the parts of a normal woman your age. I fully expect the blood work to confirm what I see in the flesh. We will check the DNA results against those we took last week and I fully expect a match there.

“In the less than two weeks, you’ve also lost over fifty pounds and your skeletal structure has transformed into that of a female. The changes are nothing short of miraculous.

“With this medical evidence, coupled with your daily selfies, I can categorically testify that the Karl I examined last week is the Karla seated before me now. I can’t say that I understand it, but the evidence is irrefutable. Last week you were male and today you are a complete female."

He smiles, “There is one thing looming. However, given that it has happened to virtually every woman who has ever lived, I don’t classify it as a problem. I just wouldn’t want to experience it myself. I am not a gynecologist, but it appears to me that your first period is imminent.”

Double damn! I should have expected this, but the very thought of monthly bleeding makes me squeamish.

“There’s no way around that?” I ask.

“Nothing short of a hysterectomy or menopause will stop it,” Dr. Lake seems amused. I am not. “Pregnancy will grant you a nine-month reprieve, if you want to take that step.”

“I’ll pass on the pregnancy option,” I am quick to claim. “That would involve sex with a man. I’m not sure where I stand on that issue.”

“I suspect that you will need to deal with the idea sooner than later,” he smiles, “if your hormone levels are still what they were a week ago. Hormones can be powerful motivators. But who knows, maybe you will prefer a female companion. You will have to figure that one out on your own unless you want me to refer you to a counselor.

“I am referring you to your mother’s gynecologist, a lovely woman,” he continues. “The other Dr. Lake. She can talk to you about options for birth control and make sure that I didn’t miss anything during my exam.”

“I suppose that I need some definitive statement that I am genetically female so that I can change records and update my legal identity. Somehow, I don’t think that there is cop in the land who will believe that I am Karl Bronson when they see my driver’s license.” I groan.

“I will work something up, pending the expected results from the lab work,” he assures me. “It should be ready for you to pick up late tomorrow, or Monday at the latest depending on when the lab results are all in.”

----<0>----

Fifteen minutes later, I find myself sitting in my parked car with an appointment card to see Dr. Lake, gynecologist, next Tuesday afternoon.

I’ve known this was coming for the past week and a half. Why do I feel so shell shocked?

Perhaps, in the dark recesses of my mind, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a dream or maybe a cosmic joke and I would wake up to find myself returned to the old me. Dr. Lake’s pronouncement of my complete new gender seems to have sunk into my very bones as a life sentence. I suppose it is, and right now it feels as if I will need a lifetime to really learn what I need to know about being a woman.

Is this punishment for neglecting the women around me? I am sure that Joanna could give me a long list of assholes who would be more deserving of seeing life from a new perspective. I am not sure that I am one of them.

Is it an opportunity? I can’t see how. The change has little impact on my major life goals, all of which are professionally oriented. I still want to design great structures and can do that regardless of my gender.

I get a headache trying to figure it out.

I am saved from further mental turmoil by a text notification.

Anita: Heading to the mall now. Where are you?

Me: On my way.

Anita: Great! I will park by the west entrance. Claires is just inside.

Me: See you there.

Starting the car, I think: I better not get pulled over!

----<0>----

Anita is browsing through a rack of hair accessories when I find her in Claires.

“Hi, Karla,” she says brightly. “I let the piercing specialist know that you were coming. Let me introduce you.”

The piercing specialist turns out to be a girl who may be 21, but I have my doubts. Kaylee has me fill out and sign some forms. I suppose that I am guilty of misrepresenting my identity when I sign my name as Karla for the first time, but she doesn’t ask for ID. I look closely at my handwriting and signature before returning the form. I don’t think that my handwriting has changed at all. It is not very feminine.

I have to purchase an ear-piercing kit to get the free ear piercing. Nothing is ever truly free. Kits with diamond studs can cost over $250.00. I end up buying the crystal blue zircon version with a white gold post for only $80. It is close in color to my favorite topaz necklace.

Kaylee tries to talk me into multiple piercing in each ear but I decline, pointing out that all the "free" piercings she wants to give me would cost a small fortune in ear-piercing kits.

Kaylee informs me about a variety of safety and care requirements. The one that I remember the most is that I need to clean each ear daily with a special fluid and I can’t remove the studs for six weeks. Seems like a long time to me, but Anita assures me that it is worth it.

“Your mother left you so many great earrings,” she enthuses. “I guarantee that you will be glad that you did this.”

I sigh, “Do your best, Kaylee.”

The experience is not as painful as I expected it to be.

In all we spend about an hour in the store after getting my ears pierced. Anita introduces me to a dizzying array of hair and jewelry options. I just hope that there is not a test on this later. Under her watchful eye, I select a six pack of hair clips, a hair band, and some sparkly hair pins which she promises to show me how to use.

As a thank you gift, I buy her a pair of inexpensive earrings that she takes a shine to. This starts me thinking about what I can do to show my appreciation to my new best friends for all their help. Nothing comes to mind right away but I am sure that I will think of something thoughtful if I pay attention to what each one likes.

We each find something we like in the food court. As we eat, Anita continues to educate me on all things feminine. I ask her about periods, telling her that Dr. Lake thinks that my first period will occur soon.

Anita gets excited by this bit of news. I’m not sure what is so wonderful about periods but she insists that a girl’s first period is really special as a right of passage from girlhood to womanhood. She says it is scary too, but not as bad as one might think if you are prepared.

Instead of finishing the evening with shopping, we head across the street to the local supermarket. She takes me straight to the feminine hygiene section and introduces me to an overwhelming display of different sanitary napkins and tampons.

Seeing the blank expression on my face, she gives me a reassuring smile. “This is all new to you, isn’t it?”

“New doesn’t begin to describe it,” I inform her. “I am on information overload. None of this makes any sense to me. It is just not something that I have had to think about or to deal with.”

“I don’t image that your mother or college girlfriend ever talked about this?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, I know about periods, but they happened to women,” I point out. “There is no need for a man to get into the specifics, so the answer is: no. I don’t think they ever felt it necessary to bring me into the loop.”

In the end, Anita picks out a couple of different pads, “for different flows,” some tampons, “read the box to figure out how to use them,” and panty liners, “For those days with light discharge or moistness.”

Fortunately, we choose the self-checkout kiosk when we are done. I don’t think that I can handle working with a live checkout clerk with this stuff.

Anita’s final words as we hug before we part are, “Call me if you need help when you get your period. A girl shouldn’t have to face her first period alone.”

----<0>----

I find that mom has already stocked the bathroom with feminine hygiene products when I go looking for some place to stash my new purchases. I am looking in the master bathroom for somewhere to store all the products that I purchased with Anita's help when my phone notifies me of an incoming message.

Sam: Are you still up? It is early morning here.

Me: Yes, I just got home from shopping with your sister.

Sam: Are you broke now?

Me: Very funny, not. We just got my ears pierced and picked up a few supplies.

Sam: Do you have time to talk? We can use WhatsApp.

Me: Sure, give me fifteen minutes.

Sam: I have to leave for work in an hour.

Damn. WhatsApp calls are video calls. I quickly check my hair and makeup in the mirror. A quick brush and a touch up of my lipstick and I am ready to greet my latest new friend.

“Hello good looking,” Sam greets me with a silly grin once we connect. “How was your day?”

I roll my eyes. I guess that I am going to have to get used to flirting.

“Besides getting medical confirmation that I am now 100% female,” I deadpan, “not much.”

Over the next half hour, we chat about my visit to the doctor and I ask him about his trip to Germany. We just enjoy each other’s company before he has to head off to do battle with plaque and I get ready for bed.

Fortunately, I have access to my new nightgown drawer again. I pick a another flannel nightgown for tonight. Given Dr. Lake's prediction, I add a pad to my panty for the night. After cleaning off my makeup, brushing my teeth and admiring my new studs, I braid my hair and crawl into my parent's bed wondering what tomorrow’s epiphany will be.

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 12

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn Fortunately, I have access to my new nightgown drawer again. I pick a shorter flannel nightgown for tonight. After cleaning off my makeup, brushing my teeth and admiring my new studs, I braid my hair and crawl into my parent's bed wondering what tomorrow’s epiphany will be.

Friday Jan 6: Day 12 - The Epiphany

The first thing that I notice as I wake up this morning is that I am not feeling well and I don’t want to get out of bed. I am still tired and having mild stomach cramps and my breasts are tender. I recognize these as the signs of PMS that I read about online last night after talking with Sam.

At least I was warned. I am glad that I added one of those sanitary pads to my panty last night.

As I make my way to the bathroom to start my day, I am pretty sure that I am experiencing some drainage down there.

Sure enough, there is blood in the pad when I pull my panty down and sit on the toilet. I put my head in my hands and groan.

“What do I do now?” I ask the universe.

“You fold it over, wrap it in toilet paper, and put it in the trash,” I look up in surprise to see my mother standing in the bathroom doorway wearing a long white flowing dress. She looks absolutely radiant. “Don’t ever flush sanitary products down the drain, sweetheart.”

“Mom?” I ask in disbelief. “You are here?”

“Yes, I am,” she smiles at me, “I couldn’t let my little girl start her first period alone.”

“Oh, mom,” I say with tears in my eyes, “I have so much to ask you.”

“And I have a few things to tell you, my sweet Karla,” she says lovingly, “but let’s get you cleaned up and dressed for the day.”

She guides me through the procedures for dealing with flowing blood while showering and getting ready for the day. On mom’s advice, I take some Motrin which does easy the discomfort from cramping.

As I am dressing, she smiles, promises to see me downstairs when I am ready for breakfast, then fades away.

I quickly finish dressing in the pant suit and ankle boots that are laid out for me. I do a poor job with makeup and fixing my hair before rushing down to the kitchen.

Waiting for me at the breakfast table are my parents. On the table are also my morning yogurt, a banana, and some orange juice along with my coffee. The scene reminds me of old family times.

“Come sit with us, daughter,” my father invites me to the table with them. He is dressing in some kind of white robe.

With tears in my eyes, I cautiously approach the table and sit down, wondering when this dream will fade. “Mom and Dad, I’ve missed you so much.”

Mother gives me a gentle smile in reply, “Karla, darling, we miss you too, but we do get to watch you from afar from time to time. We look forward to the time when we can be reunited but not just yet. We want you to enjoy a long and full life before that happens. In the meantime, we can only stay for a short time. There are a few things that we would like you to know.”

“Yes,” my father agrees, “like why this has happened to you.”

“The question has crossed my mind,” I admit.

“Princess,” my father explains, “The bottom line is that you just haven’t made moves towards your destiny. You’ve been so focused on your career that you have been oblivious to what your real destiny is. Your destiny, and the destiny of others, is greatly influenced by what you choose to do in this life. Your destiny is also dependent of the choices of others. Everyone's choices are interconnected. But you also need to realize that there are only a few things that you take with you when you pass and these are the most important things in life: Your character, your knowledge, and your relationships. These are the things that you should work on above all else. Your choices have a huge impact on these.”

“You have a great heart,” mom picks up the thread. “You are honest and true. You have a track record of acknowledging other people’s feelings, but you are prone to overlook other people’s needs when you are focused on your own goals. I think you will find that your tunnel vision has already caused you to miss great opportunities for your development outside of your career. For one, you have already lost the opportunity to connect with your soulmate. She wanted you desperately, but you were so distracted that you never even noticed that she existed. She eventually gave up and married someone else. Which is too bad because you both would be much happier if you had married her. The man she ended up marrying your friend Joanna would classify as an asshole and he is making her life a living hell. She will be seeking someone like Joanna to help her in the near future. Your choice to ignore relationships has had a very negative impact on her life and the lives of her two children by the asshole.”

“Who was it?” I ask while racking my memories to for someone, “It wasn’t Judy was it?”

“No dear,” mom says, “Judy wasn’t the one. You will never know who she is, but with the loss of that opportunity, there has been a shift in what the future holds for many people. The shift is not necessarily good.”

“We were very disappointed when we found out about your failure in this matter,” dad points out.

“While you may be a rising star in the engineering world, you must not neglect the weightier matters. You must continue in your engineering work, but just realize that it is not to be your most important work.

"By the way, when you get to where we are now, you will find that the world’s knowledge of science and engineering barely scratches the surface.”

Mom picks up from there, “Yes dear Karla, you have a good character and are developing a large store of useful knowledge, however you were not developing the relationships that you should. I tried to push you in that direction as you grew up, but you were oblivious to my best efforts. When we reached our current place, we discovered that you had already missed out on the greatest relationship of your lifetime as a man. Then we were shown the impact of your failure and it isn't pretty. There are a lot of people where we are who fear that your failure will have devastating effects on the lives of many of their loved ones.”

“How can that be?” I ask bewildered. “I am one small cog in the world?”

“You know that it only takes one weak element to allow devastating failure in a structure,” dad points out. “Consider the weakest link theory. One small cog in a machine can be very important, particularly if that cog fails to do its part.”

“Also,” mom picks up the theme, “consider the butterfly effect. A seemly mundane and trivial decision can lead to a shift in the direction that the world takes.”

“And this butterfly made the wrong move?” I said.

“Yes,” mom’s smile is sad, “Missing your soulmate darkened the future for everyone.”

“But,” my father says, “All is not lost. The general opinion is that you, and the world, can have a second chance, but you will have to do it as a woman. The changes that have occurred to you, we hope, will break you out of your single focus life and broaden your perspective. Nothing else has. In your new role you have an opportunity to link with a great man and the two of you will stand together as equals to have a huge influence for good in the world.”

“You have much to learn about being a woman,” mom instructs me. “That is why you have three new best friends. Anita, Joanna, and Jane are meant to be your guides in your journey of discovery. But remember, Karla darling, friendship runs both ways. Stay aware of their feelings and challenges and be there for them in their times of need and they will continue to be there for you. They will, at times, need your support as much as you need theirs. The four of you are destined to be close friends throughout your lives.”

“Your nights of wild passion,” my father continues the line, “were not just random debauchery, but the experience emotionally tied you together with each of the two women. Sex between friends is never casual, especially for women. Remember that as you develop relationships with men. Sex can cause immense emotional damage if incorrectly used. Used correctly, it can bind two people together stronger than any other expression of love.”

“Yes,” mom agrees, “you really should reserve yourself for your soulmate. Anita and Joanna have already given themselves unwisely to men who would never love them and it has affected them deeply. Their time with you showed them what they can have if they hold out for men who truly care for them. They will be much more discriminating in the future. When you find your soulmate, knowing that you have saved yourself for him will make your bond to him so much sweeter and the sex so much better. Sex is best used as a manifestation of a couple’s love.

"Your two nights of wild sex were an anomaly for your two friends," mom continues. "Neither of them have ever participated in casual sex before. I have to admit that we were able to block their natural resistance to the idea, but it worked to emotionally connect you to each of the women in ways that could not have been otherwise accomplished since you were respectful of them and treated them as equal partners. You showed them what can be with the right man. Jane already knows this. Both women have a much deeper respect for your goodness than they had before. They also found that you can be a fun friend. You will see the benefit in the coming months and years.

"Follow your father's advice," mom adds. "Your mission is to find the man who is your soulmate. He is out there. Please don't do anything to screw up again."

"Yes," my dad agrees with mom. "He is out there. You will know in your heart when you have found him."

“I suppose that this is where I enter the conversation,” a very pretty young woman dressed in white fades into view, occupying the fourth seat at the table.

“Yes, Karen,” my mother smiles at her. “Thanks for joining us.”

“Karla,” Karen addresses me, “you have become a very lovely young woman. As you mentally settle into your new reality you will struggle with the new perspective. Even now, though you are doing so well, you don’t really feel at home as a woman. Be patient. Your mind will fully merge with your body and you will come to find, over the next few months, that you will be more comfortable being female. Learning the things that every woman learns growing up from girlhood will help. This just takes time.”

“You are Sam’s Karen?” I question her.

“Yes,” she says, “Sam is the only man that I have ever truly loved and it has been breaking my heart to see him suffer so much since I had to leave him. But I now see things that no living person does and I am no longer sad for myself but I am worried about him. I just want him to move forward and find love again. Love makes life worth living.”

“Am I to be his new love?” I question her.

“Maybe, or maybe not,” she gives me an vague answer. “That will be for the two of you to discover for yourselves. We cannot make that choice for you. It may be a difficult choice for you as you are dealing with the shift to a whole new existence. All that I ask is that you be honest and open with him. Please don’t trample on his heart. If you develop love between you, I will be happy for both of you. If not, if you treat him well, he will see that there is still a chance for happiness in his life. Just listen to your heart and you will know if Sam is the one for you, or not.”

“Karla,” my mother interjects. “Confronting the confusing feelings one experiences as new love is explored will help you to further cement your female identity. Sam is a very good man and will be patient as you struggle. Be kind to him as he is struggling too.”

“Just know,” Karen assures me, “that I am very happy that my beloved Sam has connected with you. It makes my heart soar to see him come out of his misery.”

“Oh, Karla,” my mother says with much feeling, “how I wish I could hug you and assist you through the coming years as a mother should be there for her daughter. Unfortunately, even though you have many questions, it is time for us to leave you. Please follow your heart and find your new soulmate. There is a lot riding on your choice.”

“Will I see you again?” I ask hopefully.

“Not in this life,” my father sadly replies, “but we will see you and love you from afar. Just know that we love you and pray for your success.”

Karen smiles at me, “Again, Karla, please be a true friend to Sam.”

“One last thing,” my father says. “As your priorities change, you will be tempted to sell out to Jim. Don’t do it quite yet. The company will see a large increase in business over the next couple of years, and not only with the new structural department. The firm will be worth substantially more as it grows. Trust Jim to guide the firm's direction - he knows what he is doing. He is an even better business man than he is an engineer, and he is one of the best engineers in the area. If you do decide to sell out, take the structural department with you and start your own firm. You will be glad that you did.”

“Thanks Dad,” I smile back as the three of them start to fade from view.

“And,” mother gets in a last word just before they are gone. “You are on your own now. I can’t help you select your wardrobe anymore. Your friends will help you develop a fashion sense.”

Tears stream down my face as my three special visitors fully fade away.

Damn. I will have to redo my makeup, but I don't care.

I notice four small boxes laying in the middle of the table, each with the name of one of my foursome of friends on it.

Noticing my untouched breakfast, I absently nibble at it as I wipe away my tears and contemplate the meaning of the amazing, all too short, visitation. How I wish that we had had more time!

My contemplation is broken by a notification ding from my phone.

Anita: Did you get a note and gifts today?

Me: No note, a visitation instead. Today’s gift is a bloody period.

Jane: Poor baby.

Joanna: I want to hear about the visitation. Lunch again today?

Me: Same place and time.

All three women quickly agree. Today is the last work day that Jane and Anita have before they return to classes next week, so they can make it.

Looking at the kitchen clock, real life catches up to me.

Damn, I am late again!

----<0>----

I scowl at Theresa as I breeze through the atrium to my office. I don’t feel great, damn period.

I have a short meeting with Jim and Celeste to update them on Dr. Lake’s conclusions before getting to billable work.

Apparently, I am not pleasant company this morning.

A couple of hours after arriving at work, Celeste confronts me.

“Karla,” she growls at me, “what is your problem today? You are not making any friends with your grumpy attitude.”

“Damn period,” I grump.

“Really?” She seems genuinely surprised.

“Really,” I confirm. “It’s a bitch. How do you women put up with this?”

She has the audacity to laugh, “Welcome to womanhood, Karla, you are now truly one of us. I can’t tell you how many times women wish this on men when they poke fun at us when we are on. It has finally happened!”

“Laugh all you want,” I scowl at her. “I am not a man anymore.”

“Apparently not! Well, girl,” she takes on a drill sergeant attitude, “put your big girl panties on and deal with it. It is not going away anytime soon, and it is not an excuse for poor behavior or pity. Don’t let it interfere with your work or responsibilities. Billions of women push through their periods every month. So can you.”

There’s me being told off.

“Yes, ma’am,” I meekly reply. “I will try.”

“Just let me know if you need any help figuring out what to do,” she kindly tells me. “The first time is a real learning experience.”

----<0>----

“Are you alright in there?” Rachel asks with concern through the bathroom stall door.

She obviously heard me muttering to myself as I work out what to do with a bloody sanitary pad and install a new one. I am not quite up to sticking a tampon in me.

“What do you do with a bloody pad?” I ask through the door.

“Really?” She sounds surprised, “you are having a period?”

“Yes, damn it!” I growl back.

“Wow!” is all she says.

“What do I do with this pad?” I ask again.

She instructs me on the proper procedure for disposing of the pad. I was wondering what the extra dispenser in the stall was for. It contains some little wax coated bags made just for this eventuality.

When I finally exit the stall, I put the used item in the trash and go to wash my hands.

Rachel gives me a quick hug, “Welcome to womanhood.”

Rachel, being the gossip that she is, ensures that the news of my condition quickly spreads through the office. Any lingering doubts about the extent of my transformation are dispelled.

Women I meet give me knowing smiles and the occasional, “Welcome to the sorority.”

Most of the men seem to avoid me. A few sexist jerks smirk but are wise enough to keep their mouths shut.

----<0>----

I am the last to arrive, again, for lunch.

As I sit down at the open seat, I find three small gifts at my place.

“What is this?” I wave at the gifts.

Jane smiles, “Those are your birthday presents.”

“My birthday isn’t until next summer,” I point out.

“But today is the birth of your womanhood,” Anita points out. “Your period declares that you are now fully Karla.”

“Also,” Joanna points out, “Today is the Epiphany. The day that tradition holds that the three magi delivered their presents to the Christ child. While you are not the Christ child and we are not three wise men, these three friends decided that you need something to celebrate the birth of your womanhood.”

“Open them,” an excited Jane encourages.

The first is a pair of very beautiful gold drop earrings with three small stars, each adorned by tiny garnets, hanging from each clasp.

“Garnets are January’s birthstone,” Jane gushes, “I hope that they remind you of your new birth.”

The second gift is a small bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume.

“This is one of the most popular perfumes of all time,” Anita rushes to inform me. “Every woman needs a bottle. I hope that you like it.”

Gift number three is a bottle of Lavender scented bath oil.

Jane informs me, “About a dozen drops in your bath water will not only moisturize your skin, but relax your senses. It is comforting when you are having your period.”

The other women agree.

While not exactly the gold, frankincense, and myrrh described in the Bible, the gifts lavished upon me by my three "magi" are wonderfully symbolic gifts for my emergence as a woman.

Tears well up in my eyes as I reach out to squeeze the hands of this lovely ladies that are my wise counselors.

“I love you guys,” I say with watery eyes.

Our tender moment is broken by the arrival of our food.

Over lunch, I recount this morning’s visitation and we discuss it’s meaning. Anita is convinced that Sam is my new soulmate. I’m not so sure but the thought is not repulsive. For now, I am happy to have him for a friend. I am careful to omit reference to Karen and her part of this morning's discussion.

We all speculate about what great destiny is being affected by my choices.

When I tell them that mom is no longer going to act as my personal maid, all three of them offer to spend a few hours with me tomorrow analyzing my wardrobe and to give advice on what goes with what.

I ask Joanna about her date with George tonight. Apparently, he is taking her to a new Thai restaurant then to a concert by our local small, but proud, symphony orchestra. They will be playing music to the showing of an old Buster Keaton silent film. It should be fun and she is cautiously excited about spending time with George. We all wish her well.

As we are getting ready to leave, I remember the four presents that my parents left behind this morning. Taking them from my purse, I passed them around and we quickly opened them. Inside we each find a necklace with a sterling silver puzzle piece pendant. Our names are engraved on the pendants. When we put the four puzzle pieces together, they form a heart.

With a heartfelt group hug, we disperse to continue our days.

Mine turns out to be thankfully mundane. I have gotten behind on more than one project over the last two weeks so I spend the afternoon working diligently to get caught up. While the work does not totally distract me from my uncomfortable body, I try to follow Celeste’s orders and act pleasant. I am somewhat successful, I think.

Later in the afternoon, I call Dr. Lake's office to see if my letter is ready yet, but apparently not all the test results are back. They ask me check back on Monday.

----<0>----

As I ease my uncomfortable and bleeding body into the hot scented bath, I sigh in relief. The ladies are right. This feels heavenly and the scent is very very relaxing.

My mind wanders over the past thirteen days. It has been quite a ride.

I smile as I recall the daily notes from mom. I will miss those. I decide that I am very grateful for the gradual transformation. If the transformation had to happen, then taking a week and half to ease into it avoided the shock of a sudden change. Not only did it help me, but it helped the people around me accept the change as well.

I wonder what John has written about all this. I have hope that his writing will be helpful to squash any misinformation and lead to greater acceptance, but somewhere in the pit of my stomach I fear a sensationally negative tabloid article. Mom said that it will be good article, so I try to have a little faith and to quit worrying about that.

It seems that my colleagues at work are getting past the shock and are just moving on with business. The unfortunate firing of Carlos has done a lot to discourage any further unpleasantness. I hope that Carlos will learn from his experience, but I somehow doubt it.

Having three close girl friends is a real plus. I have never had such close friends before and I really like it. I feel closer the Jane, Anita, and Joanna that I have ever been to anyone else, short of my parents.

And then there is Sam. What do I do about Sam? He sent me another text this morning but it was midday before I could respond. I apologized and promised to be more available on the weekend.

I reach out to collect my phone which is sitting on the counter. It is very early Saturday morning in Germany, but I send him a text anyway.

Me: Good morning, Sam. What are you up to today?

Almost immediately, I get a reply back.

Sam: Just waking up thinking of you. I wish we could spend the day together. How about a call?

Me: Give me 45 minutes, just finishing up a task.

I am not going to tell him what I am doing. Giving him visions of me lying naked in the tub is probably not a good idea.

Sam: Got it. 45 minutes. That gives me time to get going.

The water is starting to cool anyway, I sigh.

Taking a quick shower to wash off the oil residue, I dress in a very comfortable long flannel nightgown with a fresh sanitary pad in my underwear, loosely braid my hair, and crawl into bed with a mug of hot chocolate to await his call.

My new life has begun. I am grateful for my three best friends who have promised to guide me into this new life within the world of women. It would be terrible to be doing this alone.

I wonder where my new life will take me.

Hopefully, I will make the right choices this time around.

----<0>----

The End
of Karla's transformation (and this story).

The beginning of Karla's adventures in womanhood.