It was a night filled with dreams. I knew I had been dreaming, but as I slowly came up from the depths of sleep, the images seemed to fade into mist and scatter. The only thing that remained was the feeling that things were balanced now, that everything was as it should be.
It was a Thursday, nothing particularly special. Most of my high school credits had been completed, and my only class that day was conversational French at 10 AM, so I had most of the day to myself. As I lay there, I slowly became aware that my bed felt softer, more comfortable than usual, but I kept my eyes closed, holding on to the feelings I seemed to have developed in my sleep.
I yawned and stretched luxuriously, and felt my covers slip smoothly against me, much more smoothly than normal. It felt very good, and somewhat sensual. I was sure to have a rock-hard erection when I finally got out of bed. When I reached down to make sure, my eyes flew open, and I was instantly, completely awake.
I had touched silk, and underneath, felt nothing but smooth skin. I sat bolt upright and realized that, instead of my boxers, I was wearing a pink silk nightgown and the top was tautly stretched over¢‚¬¦my breasts? Hanging down over my shoulders were strands of blonde hair. I pulled one tentatively. It was very firmly attached to my head.
I looked at my bed. My comforter was pink satin, not the old army blanket I had over me when I went to sleep. My sheets felt like they were pure silk or that really expensive Egyptian cotton stuff that Mom has on her bed. My old bureau was gone, and in its place was a white triple dresser with mirrors and a pink rose on every drawer. But the important thing was the image I saw in those mirrors.
They showed me a very pretty, very startled-looking young lady.
There is no doubt that I had, on more than one occasion, wished that I had been born female. I was one of those guys called “brains”, and it is much more acceptable that a high-school girl be brainy than a high-school boy. I had no interest at all in football or basketball, or wrestling, or anything violent. I played tennis. In seventh grade when I was in a play at school, I even had to act the part of a girl. The director insisted that I play it straight, so she made me wear all girls’ clothes, even the lingerie, and I was completely made up, perfumed, and wore a beautiful blonde wig. I remember feeling very comfortable as a girl, and after that, I sometimes even dressed privately.
There was no doubt that I was looking at my own reflection. My features were softer, smoother, but definitely mine. My body was very different. I slipped out of my bed and stood in front of my new mirror. Overnight, I seemed to have lost about sixty pounds somewhere. The girl facing me could not have weighed over a hundred pounds, and those pounds were distributed very differently, indeed
My bosom was full and high, and I could see perky nipples through the lace of my nightie. I turned sideways, and my silhouette in back was every bit as girly as my front. Above all was the feeling of rightness, correctness, and balance that grew stronger inside me with every passing moment.
Just then, I heard my mom’s voice float up the stairs, “Alicia, honey, I know you’re awake. Could you come down here a second?” Now, my name is Alan. Or it was. Somehow, though, Alicia also sounded and felt “right”. I looked around, and on a hook on the back of my door was a pink satin robe. I slipped it over my nightgown. Next to my bed on a fluffy white rug were pink fuzzy slippers. My robe and slippers fit as though they had been made for me, and they felt as nice and comfy as everything else seemed to. I padded downstairs, not at all sure what my mother would think, or say, or do. My dad was no longer around, and the two of us were trying to make the best of it. What would she think of my sudden transformation?
As it happened, she seemed to think nothing at all of it. ¢‚¬“Sweetheart,¢‚¬ she greeted me, ¢‚¬“my boss called, and I have to go downtown right now. Would you be a dear and please get your own breakfast and clean up the kitchen before you go to school?¢‚¬
¢‚¬“Sure, Mom,¢‚¬ I said, and gulped at the sound of my own voice. It was high and soft, a very feminine sound. Mom smiled, gave me a peck on the cheek, and fairly flew out the door, leaving me alone with my very confusing thoughts. It seemed no surprise at all to Mom that I was now, apparently, a girl. As I made and ate my breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen, I could not help but wonder what would happen at school.
I went back upstairs, but instead of my usual shower, I found myself wanting a bath. On the tub shelf were all Mom’s bath things, but now I saw, there were lots more bottles than were usually there. I chose lavender-rose bath beads, that I knew were not hers, and poured several into my water. The steamy fragrance was very pleasant, and the bubbles the beads made looked so frothy and inviting. I slipped out of my robe and nightie and gasped at my figure in the bathroom mirror. I was a fully rounded, completely soft, pearly-skinned, creamy, very nubile girl. Tentatively, I again felt between my thighs and this time, I touched the lips of my soft vagina. The touch sent a feeling up through me that made me quiver all over.
I slipped into the water and felt the bubbles caress me, like tiny soft fingers gently stroking me. I sighed deeply, totally content, and realized that for the first time in my life, I was actually happy; totally, completely happy. I toweled myself dry after a long, luxurious soak and carefully brushed my teeth. I scooped up my silky robe and nightgown and went back into my room.
Because I had become familiar with feminine things in my occasional private dress-ups, I knew what to do. I sat at the little crystal vanity in the corner of my bedroom and surveyed the top. It was all there, neatly arranged: perfume, makeup base, powder, eyebrow pencils, eye shadow, mascara, liner, blusher, lipstick, and all the tools a girl needs. I selected a beautiful hairbrush and began to do my hair. It felt like corn silk, getting softer and sleeker as I brushed it. It fell over my shoulders in lustrous, thick waves. When I was done, it framed my face like a picture. I chose a roll-on from several and carefully perfumed all my pulse points with a very delicate floral scent.
I got up and went to my new dresser. Opening the left-hand drawer on top, I was delighted to find a large selection of the prettiest panties I had ever seen. I chose a very attractive pair in nude nylon satin, all trimmed with ecru lace, and pulled them on. Like everything else, they fit as though they were made especially for me. In the next drawer over, I discovered my bras, and selected one that seemed to match my pretty panties. It was nude seamless satin, all trimmed in the same ecru nylon lace. I looked, and the tag said it was a 36B. I cuddled my breasts into it, and the silky cups felt delicious. It lifted my breasts higher and gave me a very pretty cleavage. In the next top drawer were my stockings. I selected a pretty pair of sheer, nude thigh-highs with delicate lace tops and took them back over to my vanity stool. As I pulled them up my legs, I couldn’t believe the sensuous feelings my lingerie was giving me. Everything seemed so much more intense than it was when I had dressed before.
I began to apply my makeup slowly and carefully. I tried to make everything delicate and feminine to match my new, softer features. I did my eyes very lightly and used just a touch of blusher on my cheeks. I chose a cherry lipstick to match the finger- and toenail polish that I seemed to be already wearing. Now my mirror reflected a truly lovely girl, and I could not help but be pleased by the result of my efforts. Then, I went to my closet and opened the door.
The floor was covered in shoes of every description, from spiky heels to comfortable-looking flats. Hanging were a varied assortment of skirts, blouses, dresses, pants, tops, and one gorgeous evening gown. I was very tempted to try on that gown, but a glance at my clock told me that I had little time to spare before I had to leave. I chose a very pretty cream-colored cashmere sweater with a “V’ neckline and a slim little black skirt. I picked a pair of black leather sling-backs with open-toes and 1” heels.
After I dressed, I chose a pair of heart-shaped pierced earrings from my jewelry box, and to my delight, found that my earlobes were all pierced and ready for them. I also found a tiny, gold ankle bracelet with a dangling heart charm that seemed to match my earrings perfectly. I surveyed myself in my mirrors, and was rewarded by the sight of a pretty, quite shapely, and very excited young lady staring back at me.
I looked around and found a black leather clutch purse on top of my dresser. Inside were perfume, powder, and lipstick, all matching what I was wearing, my keys, which now had a little heart key ring instead of the computer key ring I used to have, a little French purse wallet with seventeen dollars in it, a few tissues, and two tampons. I did not need any books for my class because it was all conversation, so I picked up my purse, and left for school.
Of course, I had never been outside as a girl before, and the outdoors was also a revelation to me. The breeze felt more sensual, the sun warmer, and the day brighter and clearer than I had ever realized before. My clothes seemed to fit me like a part of my body, and I seemed to fit perfectly into the universe as I walked to the bus stop, my little heels clicking prettily on the pavement.
I stood waiting patiently for the bus to arrive, thrilled to just be out in public as a girl, and suddenly became aware of someone who had come up behind me. I turned, and there stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Everything about her was perfect, her clothes, her shape, her face, everything. She smiled at me sweetly. “Hello, Alicia,” she said softly.
“Er, hello,” I stammered. “Do I know you?” She looked very familiar, but I just couldn’t pin down who she might be.
“We spent quite some time together last night, Alicia. Don’t you recall?” I tried very hard to remember, but I simply could not place her.
“No, I am so sorry, Ma’m, but I don’t remember. Anyway, I was asleep all last night.”
“Yes, you were, Alicia,” she replied, “and that is where we spent our time together. I am the goddess Aphrodite, dear, and you wished to be a girl.”
¢‚¬“Yes, just before you fell asleep; remember?¢‚¬
I did remember. Just before I fell asleep I had been thinking how much better it would be if I were a girl rather than a boy. My life had not been all that satisfying up to that point. I loved the way I felt each time I dressed in girls’ clothes; wouldn’t it be even better to BE a girl? As I drifted off, I remember wishing, and wishing very hard, that I could truly become a girl, and then I don’t remember anything more.
“I spent the whole night with you in your dreams, dear,” smiled Aphrodite, “transforming you into the young lady you are now. Once a year, from all the wishes in the world, one is selected at random for each of the twelve gods to grant. I got yours.”
“Will I always be this way?” I wondered
“If you wish to be, dear, you will be. If not, you have exactly one week from today to change your mind. If you still want to be female at midnight on next Wednesday, you will be female forever. If not, I will come into your dreams again and change you back into a male. Trust me, dear. I will know what you really want in your heart.”
The bus was coming and I turned to look at it. When I turned back, no one was there. No goddesses. No anyone. I had so many more questions to ask Aphrodite. Will everyone just accept me as a girl? What will my friends think? What about my family? Will they be like Mom and accept me totally? Aphrodite¢‚¬„¢s words, “Trust me,” seemed to float in my mind, and I just hoped that I could.
The bus was very crowded. I was pushed and jostled until I finally found a tiny place to stand. The bus lurched forward, and I grabbed the bar on the seat in front of me. The man sitting there looked up at me and smiled. “Would you like to sit down, Miss?” he asked, getting up out of his seat. I was confused for a moment, then I realized he was talking to me. The bus was so crowded that I could barely wriggle past him to sit down. I smiled up at him.
“Thank you, sir,” I said breathlessly. “I do appreciate it.”
He smiled again. “Think nothing of it, Miss.” What surprised me were the emotions I was feeling inside. When a boy encounters an attractive girl, he will probably get an erection, but I really had no idea what happens to a girl. I suddenly realized that the warmth in my breasts and the trembling in my panties were the way he was making me feel by standing so close over me. I was upset with myself for feeling that way about a man. After all, guys aren’t supposed to feel like that about other guys, but then I remembered. I was not a guy! I could feel a hot blush rising in my cheeks as I examined these new feelings and realized that I found this man very handsome and appealing. He got off at the very next stop, but it took a while for me to get past my own emotional reaction to him.
Whew! I thought to myself. This is pretty heady stuff! I had better keep a tight rein on myself. I had no idea this happens to girls, or maybe it is because I am so new to being female that it happened to me. I could see that I would have to learn lots of things about the new me before I make my final choice, but so far, all my experiences were very pleasant and again, seemed to me to feel “right”.
The bus let me off about a block from school. As I walked up the street, I felt a new sensation. It seemed that someone was looking at me. I didn’t see anyone around, but the feeling was very strong. It was like I could almost feel the eyes on my skirt. Just then, I noticed a boy leaning against a tree across the street. He was definitely looking at me, and I knew it before I saw him! Now, I really blushed, finally realizing why he was looking at my skirt. Is this what “feminine intuition” is all about? Is this why kids say that mothers have eyes in the back of their heads? It was all just so new.
At the school building, Tim, my best friend since third grade came over to me. “Hi, Alicia Devereaux,” he sang out, “How’s it goin’?” I smiled. That is what he always says, every day when he first sees me. But this time, he said, “Alicia,” not “Alan”. So it was true! Everyone who knew me as Alan now knows me as Alicia. I guess it is a good thing that I never dated very much. Who knows how a former girlfriend might react? I giggled at the thought. “What’s funny, Allie?” Tim asked. He had never called me anything resembling “Allie” before.
“Hi, Timothy Wells,” I answered. “Oh, nothing, Tim. Just a girl thing.” I couldn¢‚¬„¢t believe I actually said that, but it just sort of popped out of my mouth.
“Oh, well,¢‚¬ he opined, “I guess I’ll never know why then,¢‚¬ he laughed. I giggled along with him.
“Oh, don¢‚¬„¢t be silly. I guess…well…I guess I was just happy to see you. That’s all.”
“Really, Allie? Are you really happy to see me?”
“Of course, Tim. Now stop acting weird, and let’s go in.”
Well, that told me lots. I have spent more time with Tim than any other human being on earth. As I said, he is my best friend; well, all right, just about my only friend. Now, it suddenly is a boy-girl thing. The funny part was, I wanted it to be a boy-girl thing. When I first saw Tim this morning, I felt like I did on the bus when the man gave me his seat, only much more so. I was truly happy to see him, and not only as a friend. It seemed as though Tim was seeing me for the very first time. I guess he had never really thought of me as a girl before.
French class was boring as usual, and afterwards, Tim asked me if I was going right
home. When I told him I didn’t have to, he asked me if I would like some ice cream. He knows about me and ice cream. One time, at the County Fair, he and I killed a whole gallon of Fudge Ripple in one sitting. So, we went to Tate’s and had ice cream. As we ate, he told me that he was thinking about what I said all through French class. I knew he meant my comment about being happy to see him. He asked me again if that was true, and I answered again that it certainly was. This was certainly turning out to be a very different conversation from any we had ever had in the past.
¢‚¬“Why do I spend so much time with you, Tim? You make me very happy. You always have. What did you think?¢‚¬
“I kind of thought it was because…well, because I don’t have too many other friends.”
“Do you mean to say, Timothy Wells, that you think I am sorry for you?”
“Well, er, Alicia Devereaux, you are a pretty girl and all, and you could have any guy you want, and you hang around with me. I just wonder why sometimes.”
“Why?¢‚¬ I bristled .”Why? I’ll tell you why. Because you are the very nicest person I know That is why. So there!¢‚¬
“I am?” Again, there was that little-boy wonderment, and I got all squooshy inside.
“Yes, you big dummy, you are. Now, can we stop this stupid conversation and talk about something more sensible?” I took a big glob of ice cream into my mouth, and it made my head ache.
¢‚¬“What¢‚¬„¢s wrong, Allie?¢‚¬
“Ooh, my head aches. I took too much ice cream,” I whimpered as tears came to my eyes. He looked at me with such puppy-dog eyes that I giggled through my tears. “You look like a puppy dog!” I simpered.
“Can I help?” He was so earnest and adorable!
“Hold my hand tight until the headache passes?” I asked, putting my hand out. He grabbed my hand like it was a life preserver and hung on like a drowning man. After a while, I said, “OK, Tim, you don’t have to squeeze so hard,” and smiled sweetly. He let up but did not let go. I let him hold my hand, and we each finished our ice cream one- handed.
As we walked to the bus, he continued holding my hand. Just as the bus pulled up, he said, “Allie, this afternoon has been about the best in my whole life.”
I looked at him, and he was so incredibly sincere and sweet. I leaned over and gave him a soft little kiss on the cheek and whispered, “For me, too, Tim,” and jumped onto the bus just as the doors closed behind me. I found a seat by a window and waved. I looked back and could see him waving back until he was totally out of sight.
If every day of the next week is like this one, I don’t think I will have any trouble making my decision.