I must have blushed as I took them into the living room.
"Yes, Martha, I'm Fred though certainly not the Fred you saw
at our last meeting.
They went into the living room and sat down.
"Whatever, has happened to you?" She was now eyeing
my bulging chest or was it the obvious bra or again was it
the evidently feminine blouse, all of which were now almost
painfully unmistakable for me as I sat down with my knees
close togetherjust like hers, though she was wearing a skirt
and I was not.
"They don't know what is happening. I was at the hospi-
tal for so many tests it is a wonder I still have any blood left.
They say it is like I am passing through puberty but this
time as a female; that is, they think I am changing into a
woman." I reached up with both of my hands and grabbed
my hair and brushed it from both of my shoulders, sweeping
it behind me where I leaned my head back and shook it to be
sure it was all back there.
Martha watched this simple but logical operation with
rapt attention, seeing for the first time the full length of my
hair, now well downmy back.
"It doesn't seem possible! How could he change that
much that quickly?" She looked at George. "Is he even more
different today than yesterday?"
He studied me intently for a minute and then nodded his
head. "It is hard to tell, but the hair is longer and, with the
bra, I can't say but I'd says it looks like he's also definitely
grown more in that department. The change of clothes
masks a lot but does tend to put an excessive emphasis on
how much he's become a woman."
At this point Marge came in carrying, of all things, a sim-
ple black, a-line skirt draped over a simple wire hanger. I did
not have to guess that it must be one that she had purpose-
fully taken from my closet.
Both George and Martha looked at it then at me then at
it again and then at Marge.
"What is that foil" Ijust had to ask it.
She smiled warmly at me with one of her winning smiles.
"Why, for you Dear. I thought that you should give it a try
since we are all friends here and Martha said that it would
be interesting to see if you would try one on. And that was
even before she saw you."
I did a combination glare and hurt look at Martha who
only shrugged her shoulders and smiled a sort of apologetic
smile. "Well, she said that you had changed enough that it
couldn't hurt to see how it looked.
"What is this? Some sort of conspiracy to rush me into
these things? I don't want to wear a skirt. I didn't want to
put on this bra only it seemed. to calm things on the stormy
sea ofmy chest."
"Aw, come on, Fred. The girls want to see how you'd look.
Actually I am dying of curiosity myself." He sort of chuckled
a bit. "It won't hurt you, you know.
I looked at him and then at the women. "You all want me
to do this? Want me to dress up as a woman?"
Martha piped up with, "You are dressed as one now, it is
only a mere change in wardrobe. I'll bet there isn't a stitch
you're wearing that isn't made for women. Its' painfully evi-
dent to me that are wearing women's slacks, and," looking di-
rectly at my fairly smooth crotch, "they do seem to fit you as
the manufacturer had originally planned."
I looked at Marge who only smiled and reached out with
the hanger.
Fool that I was, I reached out and took it, looking at it
like it was a ticking time bomb.
If I had only known.
"Go ahead, Fred, give it a try," was George's comment of
encouragement.
To this, Martha added her plea. "Please, Fred? I'm about
to burst with curiosity!"
With two heard from, I again turned to Marge.
She smiled and said simply, "Well, Dear, I don't think it
can hurt and we all are most curious as to how it would
look. "
Three to one is heavy odds. On the other hand it was my
body and I only had to say no and that was that. But I had
weakened and had the garment in hand.
"Ok, I guess."
There were smiles all around.
"Margo, want to give me a hand? Let's go into my den.
You guys stay here, I guess I'll be right back and satisfy your
curiosity. One laugh and I'll throw the both of you out, hear?"
They smiled at me as Marge came over to me and then
followed me into my den.
I gave her the hanger and undid, unzipped and pulled
down the slacks. Again I was in heels, hose, panties, garter
belt and blouse. I knew what I looked like and so reached for
the skirt.
"First you have to put this on, Just step into it and pull it
up to your waist."
The 'it' was a half slip that had been on the hanger under
the skirt. I stepped in and pulled it up. It was white, rested
most comfortably at my waist and hung down to within
inches of my knees which were now showcased in the firoth
of lace at the hem of the slip. I reached down and ran my fln-
ger along the lace and was very pleased to feel an emotion
that was totally foreign to me. Why should lace on a slip
touching my body please me?
"All right, Dear, lets put the skirt on. You can either
climb into it by letting it drop down your body, or you can
step into it and sort of tuck the slip and blouse into it. The
zipper goes to the back so that the silt is in front."
She handed me the skirt, I saw that the zipper was al-
ready open, and so I stepped into it.
As I pulled it up, I discovered that it had a soft and sllp-
pery nylon liner. I tucked the lacy hem of my slip into it and
continued drawing it easily upwards as the liner allowed it to
almost float up my equally nylon encased thighs. Finally pull-
ing it over my hips with all of the slip tucked in it, I got to the
blouse that I also tucked in, sort of. When I reached behind
me, the zip was easy to And and pull up even with my long
nails. I would have anticipated troubles, but it all seemed so
natural, nails, zipper and all. At the top of the zipper, in the
same place that the hook and eye were on my blouse, there
was a single button that closed the band snugly about my
waist, but again comfortably.
As I started to smooth my skirt down, Marge came over
and pulled it back up and then pulled my blouse down from
underneath the skirt so that it was taut. This, of course,
made my breasts seem even more conspicuous as they re-
mained pushing out the blouse that then ran at an angle
down to the skirt's waist band while all else was finnly
tucked more or less straight in. After smoothing the sMrt
back down, she stepped back and smiled.
"My that looks lovely, Dear, like you were born to the
skirt with your pose, the fit, and all."
"Well, let's get it over with." With that I strode easily out
to the waiting audience.
There wasn't a smile from either of them. Their mouths
more or less dropped and they stared. I stopped in front of
them and put my hands on my hips, fingers forward. "Satis-
fied?"
Martha spoke first. "My God, ked. You look like you have
been wearing skirts all of our life. You move smoothly like a
woman, you swing your hips just enough to move your skirt
and not be overly obvious. I never realized you had such a
good figure with narrow waist and full hips. Itjust wasn't
that evident in the slacks." She stopped looking at the skirt
and looked up at me. "How did you ever learn to do that?
And in those heels too." She was awed.
"Martha, you remember the first time he wore those
heels, don't you?" George was now looking at her and then
looked back at my skirt. "He moved then with the grace that
he seems to have surpassed now that I see him moving in
that skirt. Only now we can see his legs and, uh, ass, and it
all moves as it should. We couldn't see the full effect then,
but we sure can now. .. Wow! And, Fred, let me tell you,
you have a great pair of legs, right Martha?"
"Indeed!" was all that she said.
Margo sort of stood there and said nothing, but smiled
some sort of an enigmatic smile. It wasn't a warm smile, nor
was it cold. It was just, uh, different. She did not say any-
thing as they talked.
Martha looked up at me. "You know, Fred, a bit of make-
up, some jewelry, and nail polish." she looked at my long
nails, "Just a bit of a manicure and you'd be a smashing
woman even without doing anything else to your hair. I just
can't believe it."
I shook my head. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
They were for it. There were no laughs, no derision. Here was
Martha saying that it would be just a couple of simple steps
and I'd be a woman, well, look like a true woman. I was
stunned. I turned and went to my chair where I turned
around and sat, smoothing my skirt under me as I sat. My
knees came together and my feet went off to one side, in an
automatic motion. My hands sought out my lap and lay
there, one in the other. I didn't know what to say.
"Did you see that. Martha? Fred, are you putting us on?
Have you been taking secret lessons on how to be a woman?
you move and even sit like a woman. What is this, anyway?
What are you trying to pull on us?"
I looked at him and replied with a bit of anger in my
voice, causing it to rise even a bit higher. "What do you mean
putting you on, George? I'm acting like I always acted. There
is nothing different about me and my actions other than this
skirt." I reached out and smoothed it out, tugging it down
just a bit, especially on the side towards him. "You know,
Marlha, these things aren't all that bad, are they?"
I saw George open his mouth to respond, but Martha
spoke up before he had a chance to get it out. "yes, Fred,
they are nice. But you are not moving like you always moved.
You never ever smoothed your pants out before sitting. You
always hitched them up a bit to keep the knees from getting
baggy. Also, you are sitting primly like a school marm. I, and
I am sure George is, used to you just sprawling in your
chair when we come over. You can't tell us that this is all
'business as usual' and expect us to believe it".
I had to think and then saw that they were right. I stood
up and started pacing a bit, thinking and talking as I paced.
"I guess you're right. I seem to remember my sitting as
you remember it. Yet, my mind now says that sitting that
way is wrong. It is as if every memory of every woman I ever
saw moving has come to the fore and now occupies my 'right
and wrong' rules of moving. I can't explain it. I have not been
practicing this stuff."
I reached up again and ranmy fingers through my hair
and put my head back to shake it out. "I don't know why,
but this seems to be a new pattern that has taken over the
old pattern." I stopped and looked at them. "I can't explain it.
I won't explain it. It's inexplicable."
"I know this is probably a big imposition, Fred," said
Martha with a sort of pleading look in her eyes, "But would
you let Marge, or me, take you that short step furthei) You
know, just some make-up and maybe a manicure?"
"Are you serious? George, have you talked Martha into
some sort of extras in this game7"
"I didn't do a thing, pal, not me, no. This is all her idea. I
find it a prospect that is fascinating, but it is all her idea."
There was something in the back of my head that sort of
had the same curiosity. I had it when I had looked in the mir-
ror earlier in the day, but it had gone away. Now that she
had asked, it again came back to the fore. But, I should fight
it. I felt the comfort of the skirt, a sort of freedom that I felt it
gave me. I knew that I was not going to take it off until re-
quested to (or I went to bed, whichever came first). So, why
not go along with them?
My male image for them had already been damaged ir-
revocably. This request was just one more small step, but....
I grappled with it while they looked at me then at each other.
Finally, the third member of this triumvirate spoke up, albeit
softly.
"Why not try it, Fred, it can't hurt." Marge had put in her
two cents worth. And again it was a "can't hurt" type of com-
ment.
What do they know of hurt? My male image was suffering
various forms of destruction and she says it "can't hurt"?
What kind of pain is she thinking of? But, my thoughts went
to in for a dime, in for a dollar, and I knew that I was going to
be falling farther.
"Okay, do your worst if you must. Only remember again.
One laugh and you're out of here!"
The next hour was sealed with those words.
We went to the bedroom where I was duly set at the van-
ity.
Martha started working on my finger nails, filing, brush-
ing on a red polish and so forth that I tried to ignore while
Margo, dear, sweet Marge, gave me detailed instructions on
how to apply a basic make-up. She made sure it was reason-
ably complete too. including how to do a foundation, eye
shadow, eye liner eyebrow pencil, blush, and finally lipstick,
which was one of her brighter reds, naturally the bright color
that matched the redness that was also rapidly appearing on
my nails.
By the time my face was done and I was admiring it in
the mirror, Martha was also done. Yeah, much as I hated to
admit it, I admired my "new" made up face. When I moved
my finger to softly feel my darkened eyebrow, I suddenly dis-
covered I now had bright red talons. So much for ignoring
Martha's workings. But they had done their "worst" and I
supposed I now looked my best, or was it my prettiesn
I almost, but didn't, shudder at that thought.
When I arose from the vanity stool and brushed my skirt
down, I couldn't help notice how the red contrasted with the
black of that soft skirt, making the black look blacker and
the red nails redder. It sort of sent a thrill through me that
was out of place with what I should have felt but was, none-
theless, there.
What was happening to me?
Well, I had to go to the full length mirror. For the Arst
time I saw myself in skirt with bright red painted nails and
simple but full make-up. My desires to be a man were being
eroded at an ever quickening pace. But why?"
I couldn't be this lovely creature. Yet, when I moved, she
moved. When I smiled, she smiled. When I frowned, she
frowned. There was a duality that was on the one side dis-
turbing and on the other most pleasing. I knew there was a
battle going on inside of my head, and I'm afraid it was Ei`red
who was losing. But who or what was winning and why and
how?
I was more puzzled than ever but knew what to do, how
to move and how to act. But, why? How? What had tniggered
it? I wondered if my inner confusion and turmoil were visible
to the others.
The mystery of it all deepened even as the man in me
seemed to be losing his grip. My body was going the way of a
woman and now it was apparently my mind's turn as it be-
gan to catch up to body.
As I strode out of the room back into the living room, I
was overly sensitive to my whole being and could not help
but feel my hips gyrate and my arms bend out at the elbows
so that my forearms did not hit my widened hips. Martha
had been right. I had not noticed it but my hips were defi-
nitely wider than they had been before and my waist thinner.
I should have noticed it when I found the women's slacks fit
me, but it had somehow passed me by.
I knew my hips were swaying in a most feminine way,
but I felt powerless to stop them. I tried to stride as a man
would and found I was instantly stopped by a snap caused
by the skirt's limits. So much for the freedom ofa skirt Of
course, the heels did absolutely nothing to help any sort of
manly move. I quickly returned to my "normal" swing and
sway with a shortened feminine gait. At least it now seemed
normal.
Was I doomed?
As I came into the living room, George, with the automat-
ic gentlemanly action born of years of greeting women, stood
up and then looked again. I could see disbellefwritten across
his face, but I knew how I looked and had to accept it. I went
back to my chair and sat, again going through the motions of
smoothing my skirt, closing my knees, crossing my ankles
off to one side, and placing my hands with their now bright
red fingernails palm up in my lap.
I looked down at them.
Things were clicking and whirring in my mind and I did
not, could not understand what was going on as these ac-
tions took place.
There was an animated discussion of me, what was hap-
pening and all.
It was past noon and I was getting hungry.
When Marge suggested lunch, believe it or not, it was I
who suggested we go out for a quick meal since I did not
want to do any cooking. Marge looked at me very oddly since
I almost never did any cooking, especially not lunches.
Martha looked at me, did a quick up and down and then
agre ed.
"Uh, Fred will need a purse.
Marge smiled at that comment, lolowing what Martha
was thinking and so said simply, "I'll go get it."
A few minutes later, as we were gathering ourselves to-
gether to leave, she came with her purse and a black purse
for me. "It won t match the shoes, but matches the skirt so
should be OK. George, let's go in your car."
As we walked out onto the cement of the walk, I seemed
to awaken. The strap of the purse was over my shoulder and
my skirt and slip were swaying and the heels were clicking
loudly on the hard sidewalk.
The realization hit me; I was outside of my house dressed
and made up as a woman. I paused for a second and then
continued. I was committed but why? How? Things were mov-
ing too quickly!
But that is how it went, smoothly and effortlessly. I could
not understand how I had gotten myself into this position,
but found that all seemed to be going as if I wore these
clothes and full make-up every day of my life. Things were
getting strange. I remembered my "I gotta be a man!" stage of
just that morning and found that it had been set aside. How
could I change that much? I didn't know but there did not
seem to be much that I could do about it.
During the meal, George, having gotten over most of my
changes, brought up the document. The appointment was
for tomorrow. He suggested that I call the lab and confirm
the appointment. He wanted to know and I too wanted to
know what it said. I think we both wondered if it would gave
any explanation of what was going on. I agree and said that
I'd call when I got home. When we finished, we went home
and they came in.
I went to my den and got the phone number and dialed it
from my desk while the others talked in the living room.
The secretary answered with the name of the lab and
asked if she could help me.
"I have an appointment for tomorrow for the investigation
of a document and wanted to confirm the appointment."
"One moment, Miss, I'll check the book." There was a
pause. "I have an appointment with a Mr. Murchison for a
document examination. Is that the appointment you were re-
ferring to?"
"Yes, I want to have a document investigated to see if I
can find out more about it and perhaps recoup some faded
words and letters.
"Then you'll be bringing in the document tnstead of Mr.
Murchison?"
It was a question that I had not expected and it stopped
me for a few seconds. Then I thought of how I looked and
sounded.
"Yes, I just wanted to conlirm the appointment. I am. ..
I had to pause. I couldn't say ked and so did a quick ef-
feminization, "Frederica Murchison."
"Very well, Miss Murchison. The appointment is con-
Brmed for ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Will there be any-
thing else?"
"Oh, yes, I want to bring a friend with me. Will that be all
right?"
"I don't see any problem with that. The labs are roomy
enough that it should not be crowded. Anything else?"
"No, thank you. We'll be there tomorrow.
There, I had the confirmation and the appointment was
still on. I looked enough like a Frederica without any other
changes and so thought it would all go smoothly. After hang-
ing up, I went out to the others and told George that the ap-
pointment was confirmed, that we could go in the morning
and find out what was what in that document.
He smiled and agreed.
We talked further and then they left.
When the housekeeper came in to cook supper, she re-
acted visibly to my appearance in my skirt, but still said
nothing after a short conversation with Marge.
I went to my den and actually did do some work until din-
ner was ready. We ate and then watched TV that night before
retiring.
There was no question as to what -to wear. I stnlpped
down and put my clothing carefully on a chair, I shucked my
hose but then slipped into my "sllppers".
I saw Marge taking off her make-up after putting up her
hair and so followed suit in removing mine when she was
done.
She smiled at this and watched for a bit before getting
into bed.
I, of course, did not put mi hair up, though I thought of
it, seriously, and then I too went to bed, wearing, like her, a
pretty night dress that was even more pushed out now than
the night before.
0-0-0
In the morning Marge arose first and I lay there wonder-
ing what I was going to do. I could see by the height of the
blanket that I had expanded in chest again last night.
At the risk of being redundant I had to say to myself that
whatever was going on was still going on.
By the time I got up she was almost done and was, by
the time I came out of the bathroom. I went to the pile of
clothing from the day before and simply put it on, changing
my "slippers" again for the "high heeled shoes".
I brushed out the few snarls that had developed the night
before noting that my hair had also grown more, was now
well down my back.
When I sat down at Marge's vanity and sought out the lip
stick that I had used the day before, I couldn't find it. Then
the light came on and I went to my purse and, there it was.
So, sitting again at the source, I put on the same make-up
that I had had on the day before.
I was only mildly surprised that I had remembered how
to do it. My hand seemed to have more knowledge on how to
do It than my mind. When all was finished, I simply got up
and left. It had not even occurred to me that I was still wear-
ing the nail polish fiom the day before, other than that was
why I had gotten that particular lipstick, but that was only
"right".
When I came into the kitchen, Marge turned and looked
and did a double take. Then she smiled and went on as if my
sitting at the table in blouse, skirt, heels, hose and full make-
up was the most natural thing. if she had questioned me, I
don't know what I would have answered.
At the time I was just being "natural".
We had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when
George and Martha arrived. I had not expected Martha, but,
she greeted me warmly, giving me a feminine "once over" and
then went over and started talking with Marge; she wasn't
coming with us.
George smiled at me, taking in my appearance in a series
of sweeps with his eyes, ending on my now more pronounced
chest.
The bra was now filled to capacity. There were no more
folds or wrinkles as there had been the day before, especially
at the tip where the lace of the bra touched the smooth white
of the nylon blouse.
He took it in and acted as if it were business as usual,
well sort of and merely said that we should be going as the
appointment was not too far off.
I went to the cabinet where the shoes had been and
where the note still lay. I then went to my office type stuff in
my den and got out a file folder to put the note in. Once
again I made another attempt at reading it. Again I got
stopped by the same holes in the text. I could see that some
letters had been there but could not make them out. The ink
must have faded or have been removed by water or some-
thing as most of the holes in the text seemed to align very
nicely with the irregular folds in the paper. I put the sheet in
the folder, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door.
Before I got there, Marge and Martha stopped me.
"Fred, you shouldn't wear your good shoes to the lab.
"What do you mean my good shoes? These are the only
shoes that go with my skirt."
Margo went to a chair and there were the heels that I had
tried on before. "I think these will fit and are not so 'special'.
You should change shoes.
I thought for a moment and then agreed. In two swift mo-
tions, well, complicated ones, I swapped shoes. The black
towering heels did not feel as good as the red sparklers, but
they fit nonetheless and so, with them on my feet, I followed
George out to his car.
As the day before, I knew I had to be careful at getting in
lest my skirt ride up too high. Although I knew that George
was watching, I did not feel as confident as the day before,
though I managed just as well as then. So, we were soon in
and so he drove us off to the laboratory. My feet were shed
with nylons that were tautly held by my garters, I had a com-
fortable skirt and blouse on, my purse was with me and I
had the document with me as I should, but I did not have all
of the confidence I had before.
I didn't know why?
0-0-0
At the lab, we were met by a receptionist.
She looked at me and then at the appointment slip. "Ah
yes, Frederica Murchison. Very good. Is this Mr. Murchison?"
She looked at George who was looking with surprise at me.
"No, no, no, this is a Mend of mine who also wants to
know the contents of the document."
She smiled and then placed a call, telling Sam that the
appointment had arrived. While waiting, she looked down at
my feet and my gleaming black, very high heels "My those
are nice shoes. A bit fancy for our lab, however." She poked
her foot out showing that she was wearing a rather plain pair
of 2 inch heels.
I nodded my agreement while George just smiled to him-
self.
A few minutes later, a short, slim man wearing a lab coat
and a name tag that said "Sam Westerman" came in and led
us out of the office and down a hall to his office. There he
looked at the note and then led us back into one of the labs.
He said that it looked like it could be recouped as he set
it up on a rack and put it on an easel, covering it with a
piece of glass to hold it flat. He gave us goggles to put on to
protect our eyes, indicating that some of the lights used
could be harmful without protection. There were batteries of
lamps of various descriptions facing it along with what
looked like a camera. The process was relatively simple. He
turned off almost all of the lights and then turned on and off
selected lamps.
I did not feel uncomfortable in that darkened room until I
felt a hand on my butt.
Since Sam was busy changing lighting, I knew it was
George. I looked at him and he, sensing my motion, looked at
me and then smiled sheepishly, removing his hand.
"Sorry, I forgot" was all that he said.
Well, after a number of different lamps and/or combina-
tions of lamps had been tried, the magic light or combination
of lights was found and, finally, under it, I think it was some
form or combination of ultra violet, the text glowed brightly
and the spaces where the text was missing glowed less
brightly but there were the missing words!
"Well, there we are, said Sam as he peered closely at the
document. "I'm afraid that the missing words are a bit
blurred but you will be able to read it. What is it, German?"
"Yes, it was found in a purchase I had made. I wanted to
And out the most I could about what I'd bought"
He smiled and then took the camera and photographed
the image, pulled out a plate holder and put it into a ma-
chine that developed it. While it developed, he took out the
note and gave it back to me. He checked the negative of the
note that was about the same size as the original and then
put it into another machine that made several prints of the
image on another machine.
I looked at the text and knew I was going to have to get to
my dictionary soon. I wanted to know what some of these
words meant!
We went out with him to the receptionist and paid the
fee. It was not cheap but was a bargain now that I had the
full text.
We then sped home.
0-0-0
We pulled into my driveway and went into the house in
haste, well, as fast as I could go in those heels and relatively
tight skirt and slip. There I ran almost full tilt into Marge
and Martha. I told them that I had the text and was going to
translate it. She, Martha and George, who had caught up
with me, followed me into the living room. I immediately
changed my new high heels for the original sparklers as they
watched. Then I went into my den where I got my dictionary.
Margo decided to be the "scribe".. I now wish she hadn't and
also wish that Martha and George hadn't been there either,
but, well, it would have come out sooner or later, anyway.
The full text read:
Warnung! Gefahr! Achtung! Warnung!
Warning, Danger, Attention, Warning!
But we knew that before.
Diese Schuhe sind des Teufels und sind bezaubert.
These shoes are of the devil and enchanted (magical?)
Oh come on, who's kidding who?
Sie müssen sie gleich jetzt OHNE sie anzuziehen zerstören!
You must destroy them right now WITHOUT putting them on!
Oh oh, too late for that.
Der Mann der sie anzieht ist verdammt.
The man who puts them on is damned.
And, no mention of woman?
Nur ein Schritt muss er nehmen und fängt das Geschlectswechsel an.
Only one step must he take and the sex change begins.
Sex change? What garbage is this.
Er wird in eine Frau verwandelt ohne jegliche Rückzug!
He will be changed into a woman without any recourse (return)
But this is long before sex changes were possible. Maybe
I should stop translating now?
Je länger sie getragen werden je schneller werden Sie venmndelt!
The longer they are worn, the faster you will be changed.
The hair on my neck rose. I had found this out myself!
Ich weiss, sowas Ist mir und zwei Freunde, jetzt Freundinnen, passiert.
I know, such happened to me and two friends, now girl friends.
ZIEHE die Schuhe NICHT AN!
DO NOT put the shoes on!
There's that line again. I'm afraid it's too late for me now.
Sie werden sie nicht zerstören können nachdem das Wechsel angefangen
hat, sowas weiss ich genau.
You won't be able to destroy them after the change has be-
gun, that I know exactly.
I hadn't thought of destroying them. I couldn't.
Da einer meinen zwei Freund(innen)jetzt schwanger ist, weiss ich bes-
cheid dass die Ändenungen vollständig sind!
Since one of my (Iady)friends is now pregnant I know for a fact that the
changes are complete!
Is this what I have to look forward to?
Ich weiss dass ich jetzt selber schwangerfähig bin
I know that I myself am now capable of becoming pregnant
Oh no!
Ich bin jetzt komplett und kann die Schuhe aufgeben aber nur zum
Verkauf.
I am now complete and can give up the shoes, however, only by selling.
Ich hoffe dass Sie besseres aus ihnen kriegen.
I hope you receive better from them.
Meine Röcke sind schön aber ich sollte Hosen und Hemden tragen, nicht
enge Korsetts.
My dresses are pretty but I should wear pants and shirts. not narrow corsets.
There was that image again now from him, or was it her?
Folge mein Schicksal nicht!
Don't follow my fate!
Zerstöre die Schuhe wenn möglich oder sogleich Verkaufen! Ich bin ohne
Hoffnung!
Destroy the shoes if possible or sell at once; I am without hope.
Am I also without hope? From what this note says, it
must be true. This is the explanation of my changes; I wish it
were not true. No doubt she had the same wish...
Strassburg den 3.IV.21 (signature?)
Strassburg the third of April 1921.
When I finally finished the translation, there was a re-
sounding silence.
We all looked at each other.
Then, spontaneously. Marge read out the full translation.
"Can such a thing be true?" I was incredulous. "There is
no such thing as magic in this day and age."
"I must say, Fred, e, uh, Frederica," George began, look-
ing down at my shoes as Marge's eyebrow went up at the
change in name, "that If it is true, you have not only had
your 'first steps' but have been wearing them almost con-
stantly for the last several days, I think. What do you plan to
do?"
"I don't think there is a thing that I can do. Do you want
to try them on, George? Maybe take a couple of steps?"
He arose, a speculative look on his face, and came over
and looked down at my feet, firmly shed in the shoes. "Well,
there is a great curiosity in me to know what would happen.
When I was a kid, I used to wonder what girls and women
were all about." He paused and then looked at Martha who
was watching him keenly.
"But, I'm not about to try to find out first hand." He then
looked at Martha who had relaxed noticeably. "I still don't
know what women are all about, but this is not what I would
call a good way to find out, right Martha?"
She nodded "yes" vigorously.
He then looked me directly in my eyes.
"You know, Fred, these would make a tremendous
weapon. I wonder if that is why they were created. Imagine,
in a prior age of men where being a man meant having
power. Changing your enemy or competition into a woman
would mean his destruction short of killing. .. especially if
you did not have a dungeon. Sort of the ultimate weapon to
make him into a helpless woman."
"What do you mean helpless, George. I'm certainly not
helpless." It was Martha's time for a comeback.
"You see, Honey, that may be true now, but in the last
century and those before it and even into this century,
women were decidedly second class citizens, mere chattel,
property to be owned. They had no say.
"For example, in politics they couldn't even vote. Except
for rare exceptions like queens and empresses, the only
power they had was what they could wield through their in-
fluence on their husbands.
"That is why marriage vows even to this day say to 'love,
honor, and obey'. The 'obey' part was meant just as it says,
as they were almost slaves to their husbands."
"Oh, what a dreadful thought. I guess you are right, how-
ever. What do you think of this, Margo?"
Margo had said nothing, but, at this question, she
turned to me, "Do you remember some of those dreams you
had?"
I thought a bit and recalled them.
"Yes, it was strange, George. When I put on the shoes,
early on, I would have images that got longer as time went on
but now seem to have faded away.
"What kinds of images?"
"I felt first the shoes, then there were stockings, soft like
silk, then there were panties or pantaloons and a corset. I re-
member feeling the snugness of a corset about my middle."
My hand went to the waist band of my skirt.
I remember the image in the mirror that morning. My waist
is now slender, thinner than it had ever been, but my hips
seem to have taken up what my waist lost.
"I had such a thin waist, and then there were meters and
meters of petticoats down to the floor, it seems. The dress
was the last, but I don't recall it clearly, only that it seems to
have been very fancy and also was voluminous and went to
the floor making a great cone with all of those petticoats be-
neath it."
Margo was the first to comment. "You know, George, you
could be right with that 'weapon' idea. The clothes that
Frederica is describing are sort of last century, or could be
even earlier. There is no telling how long it was before the
shoes came into that shop, nor is there any way of knowing
how long they have been in existence before this note was
written. Was it the first or merely the last'applicationP"
I stood up, again automatically smoothing my skirt down
only this time feeling the nylon on nylon reactions between
the skirt liner, my slip and my panties, all very sensuous.
I walked over to the window and looked out for a bit and
then turned and faced them, leaning easily againist the wall
next to the window.
"Yes, the book I signed was an old book and did not have
many entries in it as I recall. On the other hand, the shop-
keeper probably did not, sign Ms own book when he origi-
nally bought the shoes. Obviously he knew enough not to
wear them or he would have become a woman too.
"The note must have been put in there by a former
owner. The date is 1921 but who knows when the previous
owner wrote it relative to the change nor how old 'she' was
when she wrote it. The signature does not give it away. I sup-
pose I could take it back to the lab and see if they can date
it, but, it would probably be more expensive and would not
prove anything, though it would answer the question and
would probably have a date close to 1921.
"I don't know about you, Frederica, but I wouldn't try
those shoes on now for anything. They have apparently not
lost any of their potential nor strength, whatever it might be.
As for me, I don't want to become a woman."
George came over to me.
"You know, don't you, that it is not only your body that
has been affected but also your mind.
I looked him straight in the eye.
"You know, George, I hate to admit it, but I think you are
right. "
I looked down at my skirt and brushed it with my hand
sporting the long red finger nails.
"I put this on this morning as if it were the proper thing
to do. If I stop and think I can remember my drive to be a
man, but it is no longer at the forefront. I am now more
woman than man."
I held my hand up, fanning the fingers, looking at the
long red nails. "I am now concerned if my nail polish is
scratched or marred, not why I have it on."
I turned my hand over.
"I wonder if I still have the same finger prints.
He took my hand rather tenderly and looked at my finger
tips. "I don't know. I would not be surprised if they too had
changed."
I remembered the pat in the lab and took my hand back.
"Margo, let's go out to eat and maybe do a little shop-
ping."
"Alright, Dear. I'll get my purse."
George looked at Martha who also sort of took the hint.
"Well, we should be going too."
"George, Martha, I appreciate your support, but I really
don't want this going any further. Please don't tell anyone
else."
"Well, if you want us to keep quiet, I suppose we can."
Marlha replied, "but it will be hard!"
George looked me over again. "As you wish. i can see that
this is something totally private. So be it. No one else needs
to know.
"I doubt that I'll be able to keep my changed body, voice
and psyche a secret for long, but the note and what it says is
to be kept in strictest confidence. Let them guess what they
want, this is a secret that I don't want to get out. They'll read-
ily see that I am now a woman, but they won't know why or
how, and that is what I want kept secret."
Again they agreed and were going out the door as Marge
came in.
I got my purse and we went off and had lunch. As we
were leaving the restaurant, she asked me, "What do you
want to shop for? Corsets?"
I looked at her a bit oddly and said, "Maybe later, but for
now, I think I should get some shoes. Two pair are not
enough and I don't want to wear these out."
"Great! The mall has several shoe shops and some are al-
most always running specials.
We went to the mall and indeed found a shop that was
running a special. I got five pair of high heeled shoes to
match some of my outfits, not counting the basic black pair
that I already had.
Then Marge suggested a pair of flats. When I put them
on, the discomfort of the past week became almost an agony.
I could not stand flatfooted without pain. A surprised Marge
said that constantly wearing the shoes must have also short-
ened my Achilles tendon. So, I got a pair of two inch heels,
that were uncomfortable but could maybe be used to
lengthen the tendon? I'll have to see.
Later in the mall, I managed to have my ears double
pierced.
Margo was quite against it, but I was now becoming my
own woman and, though I did love her, I wanted it done and
it was.
We also managed to get me more skirts and blouses and
dresses and lingerie, all of it sexy and quite frivolous. But,
why not?
There was a feeling in the back of my head that I was a
man, but the feelings in the front said I was a woman, and
so I flaunted it. I got bras in two increasing sizes. I did not
know what size I would end up and so, I played the game.
0-0-0
Well, that was over three weeks ago. My "scrotum" has
loosened up, now that my vagina has formed. It split neatly
in two to form my labia majora.
I still wear those shoes when I get the chance, though not
much and not out of the house. For those junkets I wear
some of my other high heeled shoes, all, that is, except the
two inchers, they are stllljust too uncomfortable.
My breasts seem to have stopped growing as has my hair.
My breasts stopped at a somewhat heavy C-cup size, topped
with very sensitive and enlarged nipples.
Margo says that they will lose their qpparent heaviness
over time, or not be as obviously heavy, as hers did long ago.
My hair stopped (well, slowed to normal?) at my waist or
there- abouts. I will not have it cut other than to even up the
ends. I am going to let it grow for now, I just love it though it
does take a heck of a long time to dry when I wash it.
Margo and I are now almost the same size. Only my
shoes are larger Strange, I changed in size to actually almost
match Marge's natural size and shape but the shoes re-
mained the same size. Sort of like the magic influenced all of
my body outside of the shoe but not in it. Some other
changes may make some of my clothing too tight for her.
I'm afraid George and Martha consider us flaming lesbi-
ans, but we still love each other. She showed me how to get
her off by setting me off and so forth. It is true that only a
woman can totally excite another woman. I have no interest
in men, yet, but that is still a chapter to be written!
I went to the university library. I did not want anyone in
the German department reading the note although I'm sure
that some of them probably could have read the signature
right oh. I looked for books on old German script and found
what I needed. I managed to break down the signature: "Lisa-
lotte Marie von Eggerstein Ehemalige Karl Gustav von Egger-
stein"
Lisalotte Marie was definitely a woman's name, ehmalige
means "previously". So it says more or less "Lisalotte Marie
previously Karl Gustav".
I now know all of what the note said and none of it was
comforting at all. I kind of wished I had been wearing the
shoes in the library when I was doing this last bit of re-
search. I felt confident that they would have given me the
comfort I needed, but what else would they give me?
I think they have done theirjob as confirmed by a very
enibarrassing pelvic exam that Grace gave me. What she
found was a normal vaginal canal, uterus and ovaries. Yes,
as the note said, I could now get pregnant, if I wanted to.
Margo is almost jealous.
I can have a baby and she can't. I am not about to take
that route, just yet.
Grace was probably the most astonished of us all, being
a scientific person and all.
Yes, there is not much male about me anymore. The only
thing that seems permanently male are my memories and
even they seem to be fading. I guess the shoes are still hav-
ing their effect.
I have yet to decide what to do with the shoes.
Looking at them now, I see that they are not really much
more scuffed than when I first put them on. I wonder how
many men have been transformed by them.
One part of me says "destroy them" while the other part
says "keep them forever".
There is another part that says, "you won't be able to de-
stroy them, but you can sell them; think about it." And I do,
but have yet to make a decision.
Yesterday, I decided to add a third piercing and did it at a
fancy jewelry shop, I just am not quite feminine enough.
This wasp waisted Victorian corset that Marge managed
to get me from somewhere, is doing a very tight job on my
waist, yet it is almost comfortable.
Too bad long skirts and lots of petticoats are not in style
anymore.