From: b1223@ix.netcom.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Who Am I"
Date: Fri, 03 May 96 04:38:15 GMT

   Untitled -- Part 1 author unknown ******

   Chapter One:

   He stirred in his sleep and thought he heard a baby cry.  It was a
dream. His children were grown and gone.  He was alone in this big old
house.  His wife had left him long ago.  He hadn't brought anyone home with
him from the bar- or had he?  Too many drinks.  He thought perhaps there
had been a woman.  He reached across the bed- the other side was empty. 
There had been a woman...  and a bad conversation.  She had left shortly
after coming here, he thought.  Too many one night stands.  Too many nights
of telling his sob stories to get their sympathy- so that they would follow
him home.  Too many lies.  He dozed.  There was that cry again- it grew
louder and continued.  He told himself to ignore it.  It was a dream.  Or a
cat outside.  Or a baby next door.

   There was a odd sensation in his chest.  Warmth moving down.  The warmth
grew as the baby continued to cry.  The feeling needed rubbing or
something. He reached up and found the corner of what he thought was a
pillow under the blanket before him.  There was a wetness.

   Untangling the blanket brought him fully awake.  He was frightened.  His
chest had breasts.  They seemed incredibly large.  He sat up.  What had
happened to him?  This was too real to be a dream.  He was trembling.

   The baby was still crying.  His swollen nipples were leaking.  He rubbed
his face and his eyes.  He had to wake up from this.  This couldn't be
happening.  There were still there -and the baby was still crying.  He felt
the breasts.  They were heavy and hard.  They ached.  He had to get up-
deal with the noise.  He couldn't think.  What was he going to do?

   Climbing out of bed was awkward.  He was off balance.  When he leaned to
steady himself against the dresser, a mass of hair swung over his shoulder.
Everything was out of kilter.  He was nude.  He never slept in the nude. 
His hips, his waist- everything seemed to be in a different place.  The
room and all the furniture seemed larger.  He felt like he was going crazy.
Or was flying on some kind of dope high he had never felt before.  The baby
was still crying.

   He followed the noise.  This wasn't his house at all.  The dimly lighted
hallway wasn't his and it led to a room he had never seen before.  Had he
gone to that woman's house instead of his own?  He had entered a nursery. A
crib stood against the far wall.  The baby in it was bawling like it had
been deserted for an eternity.  Where was its mother?  He couldn't just
leave it.  The crying was driving him nuts.  He couldn't think.  Reaching
in, he scooped it up.  It grew a bit calmer as he held it against his neck
and tried to figure out what to do next.  Maybe the woman was in the house
somewhere.  She might have had too much to drink - she might be passed out
somewhere.

   "There, there," he muttered to the child.  It was fussing, trying to dig
itself into his shoulder.  He carried it out and found a living room.  Then
a kitchen.  He searched the rest of the rooms.  There wasn't anyone to be
found in the entire house.  Everything was neat and tidy and silent and
dark.  He was afraid to turn on the lights.  He didn't want a good look at
himself.  He would go mad.  As he moved through the rooms, he felt the
breasts sway, his hips moving in an odd way and the hair fall against the
small of his back and his rump.  It had to be some kind of weird drug or
hypnotism or maybe he had flipped out and was really strapped down in a
hospital.  It had to be a dream.  The baby was whimpering in his ear.  It
would be crying again soon.

   He carried it back to the living room and found a comforter on the
couch. He was shivering by this time.  Wrapping it around his shoulders, he
sat down.  The baby began to cry in earnest again.  He rocked it, but he
knew that wouldn't satisfy it.  His nipples were tingling.  Sighing, he
nestled it in his lap and tried bringing a breast to its mouth.  He didn't
know what he was doing.  The baby screamed angrily.  He thought someone was
sure to walk in on him any second and yell at him for what he was trying to
do.  This was wrong.  He tried again and finally the baby figured it out
for him and attached itself and sucked.  The warmth flushed through his
chest.

   They sat there for some time.  The sucking seemed to calm him.  He
relaxed.  He had to think this through.  Somehow he had ended up here,
changed beyond belief.  There had to be some kind of weird explanation.

   After a while, the breast emptied and he moved the baby to the other
side.  It fussed a bit, but the second time of getting it to suck was
easier.

   Chapter Two

   He and the baby dozed.  His dreams were wild and maddening.  He was
being made love to by a creature or person he couldn't see.  All was dark.
He awakened, startled by the nightmare and the stirring in his groin.  He
still had a penis.  Embarrassed by the closeness of the child at his
breast, he drew the comforter across his lap under the baby.  The slight
erection subsided.  He gently pulled the baby from his nipple and got up to
carry it back to the crib.  It didn't wake up when he put it down and
covered it.  Now what?  It would probably wake up in a couple of hours. 
Maybe by then someone would show up to claim it.  Or better yet, someone
would show up to explain all this.  None of it made sense.

   He returned to the bedroom he had awakened in earlier.  He knew he would
have to really face whatever had happened to him.  Holding his breath, he
turned on the overhead light.  At first, he thought he was looking at a
strange woman on the other side of the room.  He almost spoke to her- and
then he realized it was his own reflection.  A large mirror sat atop the
dresser on the opposite side of the bed.  He was trembling.  Where was he
in this person?  She looked twenty years old.

   Last night he had been fifty-three.  She was short, and although it was
difficult to tell in strange surroundings, she couldn't be taller than five
feet.  He was six two.  Or had been.  She was pretty.  With freckles and
thick blonde hair down her back.  Large breasts, slightly thick at the
waist and a full rear end.  She had a penis, but it didn't look like his,
or at least the way he remembered it.  This was small and the public hair
was almost golden.  He could tuck it between his legs and no longer be a
boy at all.  He drew the comforter around him to cover himself and moved
closer.  Nothing was changing.  He looked closely at his face and felt it
and stared at the eyes looking back at him.  He couldn't even recognize his
own eyes.

   What was he going to do?  He turned away, suddenly very tired and
feeling quite shakey.  Light was seeping in through the drawn blinds beside
him and he almost peeked out to see where he was, but he was too afraid. 
At least the inside of the house or apartment looked normal.  What if the
outside had been changed as much he was?  He felt sweaty and disheveled. 
Reaching at the back of his neck, he pulled the hair over his shoulder.  It
fell heavily down over his chest.  This was too much.  It was dirty and
tangled.  He could cut it off- surely there were scissors somewhere.  How
could anyone take care of this mess?

   He went to the bathroom and rifled the drawers and medicine cabinet.  No
scissors, not even a pair of fingernail clippers.  He could use those as
well.  His nails were long and it was difficult to go through the drawers
without hurting himself.  This was a woman's house.  There were only
cosmetics with the toothpaste and deodorant.  No serious razors.  He would
have to check the kitchen later.  The shower looked inviting, so he laid
aside the comforter and climbed in.  At least he could wash the hair.  He
discovered it was a long drawn out process- of getting shampoo through all
of it and then rinsing it.  Combing it out afterward took even longer.  He
ended up sitting on the toilet seat, his head down and the long locks
falling before him down to the floor.

   Chapter Three

   The sensations of this body were strange.  In the shower, he had soaped
and had become partially aroused.  His flesh was soft and almost rubbery.
Completely hairless except for the pubic hair.  He would have been aroused
by being near a woman that looked the way he looked nowtouching her would
have made him hard instantly.  Washing had been a little scarey- who was he
touching?  He had held his breasts up to rinse the soap from beneath them
and had the impression of someone else standing behind him, doing the
lifting- as if his hands were a man's.  His imagined hands?  The way you
would handle a woman from behind as you kissed her neck?

   Now, sitting on the toilet seat, the same odd awareness returned.  His
wide hips seemed to saddle him on the furry cover.  It was as if he had
never really sat down before- he felt based.  Bending over beneath the
curtain of wet hair, his breasts hanging- swaying- with his attempts to
untangle the mass, struck him as an incredibly sexy pose.

   A real woman wouldn't think like this.  Who was he posing for?

   He had to remember what had happened to him.  Last night, he had been
restless after work and had decided not to go home right away.  There was
nothing there anyway.  He had gone to dinner alone and then to a kinky
nightclub in Hollywood.  The place had fascinated him.  The crowd was
mostly S&Mers and transvestites- all sorts of leather and strange outfits.
It had been an adventure from the straight-laced business world he normally
lived in.  He was a banker downtown.  A good one.  There had been a woman
at the bar.  She had been gorgeous in a dark hard sort of way.  They
talked. He remembered that he was cautious at first- uncertain if he were
talking to an actual woman or a very good looking transvestite.  At some
point he was convinced she was real.  He couldn't recall exactly when it
happened, if it was simply her mannerisms or some small detail of what she
was talking about.  She was a commerical artist.  Doing stain-glass
sculptures or something.

   They had left together.  As he followed her toward her car, the fears
had returned.  She seemed a bit angular, although her hips were certainly
round enough.  She was almost his height, without the short heels she was
probably five ten or eleven.  Her hair was short- in one of those boy
haircuts.  She turned at her car before opening the door.  He was wondering
how he could get out of this gracefully.

   "Was there something you wanted to tell me?" he had asked.

   She kissed him.  It was a woman.  She had held up her car keys.

   "You drive," she had told him.

   They had gone to her place.  Or at least were heading there.  After they
had pulled out of the parking lot, she had leaned in his direction and
began massaging the crotch of his pants.  He remembered the hardness she
had created and the slow movement of her fingernails as she drew down his
zipper.  Then nothing.

   Had he blacked out?  He had been driving- it seemed impossible that he
could have lost conciousness and not gotten into an accident.  He couldn't
recall drinking too much.  The whole evening had been real, hadn't it?  Any
explanation of this was too crazy to be believed.  He had a life- you just
don't wake in someone else's.

   Work!  He suddenly remembered he had a meeting at 8:30 with the board to
go over the new tower plans.  He had to call.  He couldn't show up like
this- they would have him locked away as a crazy woman.  He could at least
buy some time- until he figured out how to get back to the way he was.  He
got up, held his hair up and let it drop behind and wrapped a towel around
himself.  He caught himself as he tucked the corner in under his arm.  This
is the way women wrap themselves in a towel.  He hadn't even thought about
it.  This shouldn't be so natural.

   Chapter Four

   He went to phone in the bedroom and dialed his office.  He got the
voicemail.  It must still be early.  He punched in his secretary's
extension and after her cheery message (that he had heard fifty times
before) the beep sounded.

   "Hi Mary, this is Steve...(God- his voice!  He sounded like a little
girl!) Oh, sorry...I meant...this is Steve's sister.  He asked me to call
and let you know that he has a family emergency...He wanted me to ask you
to reschedule the board meeting for next week.  He wanted to leave you a
number where you could leave messages for him...(There was an answering
machine- but the phone didn't have the number on it.)...Well, I can't seem
to find the number right now- sorry.  There's been a death in our family.
I'm sure he'll call you."

   He hung up quickly, feeling like a first class fool.  He hadn't even
sounded coherent.  Calling back would only make it sound a bit more crazed
than it already was.  At least he would have some time to figure this out.
He had dialed without the area code and it had connected- so he was still
in the city somewhere.

   He looked around.  He should get dressed, but there was no sign of his
clothing.  Checking the closet, he half expected to find his suit hanging
neatly in one corner.  Nothing.  Just skirts and blouses and some sweaters
and lots of dresses.  He rifled through the hangers.  This was weird. 
There was no pants at all- not even a pair of jeans.  The woman who lived
here must have a strange trip going on.  He checked the bureau.  Every
woman owned shorts.  There were underwear, nylons and nightgowns.  No
shorts or even a bathing suit.  He took out a couple of the nightgowns,
thinking that there must be something like a flannel nightshirt, but they
were all skimpy lacey things- like the stuff he would buy a girl friend for
her birthday or christmas.  He put them back.  So what was he going to
wear? He didn't want to be standing here in a towel if somebody showed up.

   Ok.  He took out a pair of panties and held them up to figure out which
was the front and pulled them on.  They felt nice actually- soft and smooth
against his skin.  The elastic band of the waist was a bit disconcerting so
high up, but they seemed to fit.  He had a quick sensation of being one of
those nerds in high school that wore their pants buckled at their navels.
Well, if he had no choice other than a skirt, at least he could pick one
that wasn't absurdly feminine.  He took a long denim number out of the
closet and pulled it on.  It was a bit snug.  After buckling the belt on
it, he turned to look at himself.

   He seemed to be all butt.  It was tight waisted and after expanding over
his curves, tapered again.  It appeared to be the right length: mid-calf.
He wished he had paid more attention to women's fashions.  He tried to
recall how long his secretary's skirts were, but couldn't picture her legs.
She was always sitting down.  What a strange body image women had of
themselves, he thought.  They dress like this on purpose, to emphasize
their attractiveness.  As a man, he would have found the woman in the
reflection sexy, but from the inside, now, the obvious rear end was
embarrassing.  He had a whole lifetime of trying to make his backside
nondescript.  This would take some getting used to.

   He needed a shirt.  As he searched for something plain looking, it
occurred to him that he might need to feed the baby again if he couldn't
find anything else to give it, so he looked for something that would button
up the front.  The sweaters were out.  He found a white blouse that wasn't
too frilly and fumbled with the buttons and tucked it in.  The mirror
wasn't particularly kind.  This wasn't going to work.  His nipples were
clearly outlined by the sheer fabric and when he tried to pull it out a
bit- to make it looser- he began to leak.

   He pulled it off.  He had wanted to avoid the bras, but knew he didn't
have much choice.  If he wanted to get out of here, he couldn't very well
go running down the street as a wet t-shirt contestant.  He had noticed
some nursing pads in a box in the bathroom.  He went back to the underwear
drawer.  He couldn't quite bring himself to look through them.  He wanted
to, but thought it too sick- he was stealing some woman's clothes as it
was- to be interested in what they looked like seemed a bit like smelling
someone's underwear for kicks.  The one he took turned out to be a nursing
bra.  Putting it on was another question.  He recalled a girl friend in
college that would put her's on backwards to hook it in front and then pull
it around.  He ended up back in front of the mirror anyway- this was a bit
of work with your breasts hanging in the way.  It turned out not to be so
difficult.  He pulled it around and put his arms through the straps.  He
adjusted the cups over his new flesh.

   It fit.  This was getting stranger and stranger.  He remembered his
ex-wife's endless search for the perfect bra- according to her nothing fit
right.  He had to think this whole thing was a set-up.  All the clothing
fits.  Whoever did this to him, knew he would be here getting dressed. 
Shaking his head, he went to the bathroom for the nursing pads. 
Afterwards, he picked out a loose poet looking blouse and went back to the
mirror one last time.  The breasts and rump and hair were still too much to
seriously consider, but at least he was covered.

   Chapter five

   The baby was awake.  It was whimpering- not really crying yet.  He went
back to the nursery.  It was lying on its back, uncovered.  When he bent
over the crib to pick it up, it seemed to recognize him.  It smiled.

   "Hello," he said.

   It reached for his face when he had it in his arms.  Its bottom was
heavy and he realized it needed changing.  Searching about, he found the
diapers and wipes.  There wasn't a changing table, so he got down on the
floor.  The skirt was difficult to get down in- it was a little too tight
around his legs.  He'd have to find something later.  His hands were
trembling.  He had never changed a diaper.  Fumbling with the snaps on the
baby's outfit, and then with the adhesive strips on the diaper, he finally
removed the soaked diaper.  It was a little girl.

   Holding her in place as she wiggled while trying to position a fresh
diaper under her wasn't made any easier by his fingernails.  He was afraid
he was going to scratch her.  These were dangerous.  He finished and picked
her up and then with difficulty got back to his feet by grabbing the
doorknob.

   "You hungry?" he asked her.

   He went into the kitchen.  She wasn't fussing, but he didn't expect her
to last very long.  He went through the cupboards and the drawers, then the
refrigerator.  Nothing for a baby.  No formula, no baby food.

   Was she old enough for baby food?  There wasn't a pair of scissors to be
found either.  Also no sharp knives.  Whoever did this to him- did they
think he would try to kill himself?

   "Well, it looks like you're stuck with me, kiddo."

   He went out to the living room.  The dark room was adding to his feeling
that he was trapped.  He went around and pulled up all the shades to let
the light in.  It was a bright sunny morning.  He tried the front door,
half-expecting it to be locked in some mysterious way that wouldn't allow
him to unlock it.  The deadbolt turned and the latch worked.  It opened
easily.  There was a normal looking screen door and a porch beyond.  He
stepped outside and looked at the small front yard.  He was on the westside
somewhere- near the beach.  The street was lined with small cottages and
palm trees.  No one was about except for one man down the street a few
houses away.  There was traffic noises from what he thought had to be the
next block over.

   The baby had his hair.  He disengaged her hand gingerly and shook his
head back.  He would have to figure that out too.  There had to be
something to hold it back.  It was beginning to dry and fall forward.

   Her hands were quick.  He carried her back in and settled on the couch.
Unbuttoning and unsnapping himself, he offered her the nipple and soon had
her latched on after some manuvering.  This was beginning to hurt.

   He didn't want to pull her away- she would surely start to cry- but he
was tempted.  Women put up with this to breastfeed?  He tried looking out
the window at the street- thinking himself somewhere else.  He could do it,
he told himself.

   As he sat there, the man he had seen earlier came up the sidewalk on the
opposite side of the street.  When he came even with the front window he
stopped.  Steve had expected him to stroll on by.  He had looked like
someone just out for a leasurely walk.  Maybe he was looking at the tree in
the front yard here or admiring the flowering shrubs along the front fence.
He would lose interest and go on.  But he didn't.  He remained standing
exactly where he was.  Could he see in?

   Was he watching me feed the baby?  The guy looked normal enough- short
blonde hair and clean cut.  Steve wanted to jump up and pull down the shade
and close the front door, but didn't know how the unhook the child without
making her upset.  He doubted whether he could really see through the
screen on the window.  It was dark inside.  Even if he could see in a
liitle- what was he getting a glimpse of?  A bit of boob covered by bra and
baby?  Whatever the guy thought he was doing- Steve didn't like it.  He
felt exposed.

   The baby finally came away gurgling.  He picked her up and went to the
window.  The guy still hadn't moved.  Steve closed and locked the door
again and then drew down the shade.  His shoulder was wet.  The baby had
just spit up.

   Chapter Six

   He was on his way to the bathroom to clean himself up- the sleeve and
shoulder of his blouse was a gooey mess- when there was a crash from
outside at the rear of the house.  He jumped and froze in mid-step.  The
baby looked frightened.  He held her close and peeked around from the
hallway toward the kitchen.  Buttoning the blouse, he tiptoed cautiously to
the back door.  In the small back yard a trash can was laying on its side,
its contents strewn across the grass.  A cat was sniffing a piece of paper
at the edge of the trash.  Steve sighed and after looking around just to be
on the safe side, he went back to the bathroom to clean himself up.

   Back on the couch, the cloth of the blouse wet against his skin, he fed
the baby from the other breast and hoped it would put her back to sleep. 
Her eyes were wide open though.  This side didn't hurt as much, but he knew
it probably would with repeated feedings.  The mother had to show up.  He
just hoped he didn't get caught with the breast in the baby's mouth when
someone did walk in.  The real mother would kill him.

   As he sat there, he began the feel the urge for a cigarette, and he
suddenly realized that he hadn't had one since getting up.  When the baby
finished, he buttoned up and took her with him to do a search of the house
for tobacco.  There wasn't any to be found.  It occured to him that he if
he found some money, he could probably walk somewhere nearby to buy some.
But there didn't seem to be any change laying around either.  In the course
of his search, he had stopped in the bathroom to replace the nursing pads
in his bra, which was a trick in itself with a baby on your hip.  On the
bedroom dresser, he found a banana hairclip and put the baby down on the
floor for a moment so that he could put it in his hair.  He guessed he had
put it on the right way.  It looked good.  The hair was swept up loosely -
high on the back of his head.  He looked at his face again.  Was he
beginning to enjoy this?

   The clip felt a bit funny- but then so did everything else.  It seemed
artiface in a way- as if the clothing and hair were creating and
constraining all at once.  He imagined that if he were really a woman and
had always been one, this stuff would seem quite natural.

   With the baby on his hip, he started back out to the living room.  On
the dining room hutch, stuck sideways next to a potted plant, was a purse.
He hadn't noticed it before.  It was hidden from view if you were walking
the other direction.  He picked it up and carried it into the living room.
He put the baby on the floor and sat down beside her.  He would have to get
another skirt- this one was impossible for getting up and down this way. 
There should be some money here.  He found the wallet.  There were a couple
of twenties inside.  He took out one bill and was about to put the wallet
away when he noticed the driver's license.  He couldn't believe what he was
looking at.  He removed it from the plastic pocket.  It was him!  Or at
least, the person he was now.  The name on it read: Sandra McGregor.  Age:
24.  It was him.  What the hell was happening?

   Chapter Seven

   Looking at the photo on the driver's license was maddening.  For a
moment, he was questioning his sanity.  What if he really was this person-
this was his house- his child?  He would surely remember something of this
girl's life if that was true.  How could you have a baby and not remember?
He had family as Steve- a childhood- fifty years of memories.  This was
like some bad Sci-Fi movie or an episode from Twight Zone.  You just don't
wake up in somebody else's life.  If he was here- then what had happened to
the person that was Sandra?

   He was trembling as he pulled himself up from the floor.  He had to get
out of here- get some fresh air- think this out.  Get a cigarette.  He went
to the front window and peeked out to see if the guy was still standing
across the street.  There wasn't a soul around.  There was a stroller in
the corner.  He guessed there were keys in the purse.  There were. 
Scooping the baby up, he went into the bedroom for some shoes.

   He knew now that they would fit.  They were all lined up on a rack in
the bottom of the closet.  He looked through them.  Not a pair of flats to
be found.  He picked the lowest heels he could find and slipped them on. 
The leather against his feet felt funny and he thought of the nylons in the
drawer, but dismissed the notion- damn if he would struggle with that right
now.  He felt a bit wobbly walking- having a point holding your heels up
wasn't the most secure sensation.  If he walked slowly, it was all right.
If nothing else, he could use the stroller to keep his balance.  These were
only about an inch high- how did women do this?

   He returned to the living room carefully.  He certainly didn't want to
fall with the child in his arms.  Fumbling with the stroller, he finally
got it open and seemingly locked so that it would fold up again after she
was in it.  He belted her in and then paniced.  What if she threw up or
needed her diaper changed?  He loaded the stroller's basket with diapers
and wipes and a couple of small towels.  He had decided the take the purse.

   Getting out the door with the thing was not too tramatic, except for the
purse, which slipped off his shoulder when he bent to tip the wheels over
the threshold.  He locked the door.  The purse fell a second time when he
tried to manuever the stroller off the porch.  He folded the strap and put
it under the towels in the basket.

   He let himself out the gate.  This was scarey.  He felt like he was
going out into public in drag- or in the nude.  Everyone would know somehow
that he wasn't what he seemed.  He could imagine people staring- or
stopping to point.  They would laugh at the way he walked- or at his
clumsiness.  He took a deep breath.  The only flaw was his soul- and the
genitals which no one could see.  He tried to look at the front of his
skirt, but found he couldn't see it standing upright.  A hand to his bosom
and a stretch reassured him.  The denim was too heavy to show anything
underneath.  No wonder women didn't stand up at urinals- they couldn't see
anything.

   Where should he go?  The traffic noise seemed to come from the end of
the alley almost directly across the street.  He started out in that
direction.  He was proud of himself for navigating the street so easily. 
There was difficulty in walking once he entered the alley.  The thin layer
of small gravel made the heels seem to slip sideways with each step.  The
baby seemed happy enough.  He stopped to raise the canopy to keep her face
out of the sun.  The was a breeze, but it was warm.  His hair whipped about
a little against the clip on the back of his head.

   When he reached the cross alley, he spotted the blonde guy standing just
around the corner of a garage, waiting.

   Chapter Eight

   Steve stopped.  The blonde guy seemed a bit surprised, but recovered
quickly.  He took a step toward Steve and the stroller.

   "Do I know you!?" Steve almost shouted.  (The damned little girl voice
only sounded frightened- he certainly wasn't going to intimidate anyone.)

   The guy looked pained at his question.

   "You have my baby," he said.

   Steve almost jumped.  He understood immediately- this guy wasn't the
father- it was whoever used to inhabit the body he now had.  He wasn't sure
how he knew, but he did.

   "Stay away from me!" Steve yelled.

   Something wasn't right.  He could feel the violence in the way the guy
waited.  The man's fists were clenched.  He was having trouble making words
come out of his mouth.  He stood as if there was an invisible yoke across
his shoulders, bearing down on the back of his neck.  Steve started ahead
with the stroller again.  He had to get past the guy- ahead of him toward
the other end of the alley.

   "She won't let you keep her!" the man blurted.  "She'll take everything
away!"

   He was following him.  Damn!  The heels and the confining skirt made him
feel like he was trying to run up a hill in three feet of mud.  He slipped
with each step.  There was no way he could run.  He glanced over his
shoulder.  The guy wasn't getting any closer, but he wasn't stopping.  It
made Steve feel as if the guy was purposely taking his time like a cat
might stalk a mouse.

   "Leave me alone!" he yelled.

   "You can't have her, you bitch!  I'll kill you!"

   Steve felt close to tears.  Any second a hand would grab him from
behind. He scurried on toward the end of the alley, repeatedly looking
back. The guy was still coming.  A woman appeared up ahead, crossing the
opening on the street beyond.  He could hear the guy running across the
gravel.  Steve stopped, bent down, scooped up a handful of rocks and turned
to face the bastard.  He was gone!

   Trembling, Steve dropped his stones, and quickly pushed the stroller
ahead.  The woman up ahead of him had stopped and seemed to be waiting for
him.  He was too upset to look at her when he reached the street.  He
turned the stroller sharply, to head off down the sidewalk away from her.
What could he possibly say to her?

   "Are you all right, miss?"

   He looked up.  He had immediately wanted to look behind him to see who
she was addressing, but he stopped himself.  She seemed kindly enough.  She
was in her late forties or early fifties- graying hair up on her head in
braids.  Not unattractive looking.  Her eyes made him hesitate.  They were
intelligent- almost wise.

   "I guess so," he heard himself say.

   "He got scared off," she offered.

   He looked back once more.

   "He saw you, I guess."

   "You're trembling."

   "I'm all right- really," he said.  "The price to pay for a pack of
cigarettes."

   She smiled.

   "Such a pretty baby," she said, bending down for a closer look.

   "Thanks." (How were you supposed to respond?)

   "Would you like to bum one of mine?" she asked.  She was holding out a
pack she had retreived from her pocket.

   He accepted one, but found it difficult to hold it steady enough for her
to light it.  She held his hand still with her own.

   "Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?" she asked.  "I've got to open my
shop, why don't you walk along with me and I'll give you a cup of tea.  I
could use the company."

   "I...all right." He wasn't sure why he accepted.  He knew he would get
in trouble if he had to carry on any kind of conversation.  But this was
better than trying to go back to that house.

   Chapter Nine

   As Steve walked with the woman down the street, the thought struck him
that if he was the real mother of the baby he might have acted exactly the
same way the blonde guy had acted.  Someone had stolen his life as well. 
So why hadn't he handed the baby over?  Why hadn't he tried to talk to the
guy- so he could figure this out?  There was something seriously wrong with
the guy- it was not anything you could finger immediately.  Recognizing him
as Sandra had been like suddenly discovering your sister's face on a
psychotic bum talking to himself in the reflection of a store window. 
Madness was something you could see, but not neccessarily define unless it
was real blatant.  He had also been more frightened than he could ever
remember.  How are you supposed to defend yourself if you are a foot
shorter than the whole world and too fluffy?  This body had no muscle at
all.

   "Maybe its none of my business, but did you know that man?" the woman
asked him.

   "No.  He was hanging around outside the house this morning.  I don't
think I've ever seen him before.  Why?"

   "No reason.  I've seen him in the neighborhood a few times, but it was a
while ago.  He used to walk in the evenings with a dark-haired woman."

   "Oh?"

   "Then I used to see you walking in the evenings with a dark-haired man
when you were pregnant."

   Steve didn't know how to answer that comment.  Who was the man she had
seen him (or Sandra) with?

   They had reached her shop.  It was a jewelry store.  The woman unlocked
the front door, flipped the hanging sign on the inside of the glass so that
it read open and preceeded him inside.  He manuevered the stroller over the
threshold carefully, so as not to wake the baby.  He was still amazed that
she had slept right through his rush down the alley and the yelling.

   The shop was cold inside.  The woman went toward the back and after a
moment, the lights came on and he could hear the faint hum of a heater fan.
The shop was crowded with glass cases and here and there a large mirror was
hung for the customers' use.  The jewelry all looked custom made and
expensive.  Mostly earrings and necklaces.

   "Do you make these yourself?" he asked.

   The woman smiled.

   "You don't remember talking to me before, do you?"

   Steve could feel himself turning red.

   "No, I guess I don't," he said.

   "We were friends.  You were having problems."

   "Do I look different?" he asked.

   "Would you like orange or lemon tea?"

   "Lemon, I guess."

   She turned and disappeared into a back room.  He should leave right now,
he told himself.  She would starting asking questions that he wouldn't have
answers for.  He didn't want anyone to think that he was crazy.  He'd be
locked up for sure.

   The baby was waking up.  Damn, he thought.  Not now.  She began to cry.
He unbuckled her and picked her up.  He would have to nurse her.  He
couldn't go now- he had no idea where he could take her to feed her.  He
couldn't go back to the house.  He found a couch in a corner and
unbuttoned. She latched on right away.  He grimaced with the pain in his
nipple.

   The woman came out shortly with the steaming tea.  She carried them over
and sat his within his reach on a glass shelf.

   "Would you like honey or cream in yours?" she asked.

   "No, its fine."

   "You having problems?" she asked.

   He wasn't sure what she was asking.

   "Well, nothing other than some strange man harrassing me."

   "I meant with the nursing."

   "Oh.  Well...Is it supposed to hurt this much?"

   "Take her off."

   Steve pulled the baby away gently.  She cried.  The woman showed him how
to make the baby take more into her mouth.  And then how to hold the flesh
back from her nose so she could breathe.

   "You weren't getting her latched on all the way, is all.  She won't
choke on you.  The milk maybe.  Just pull her off if its not right.  She'll
get the hang of it quick."

   This way didn't hurt.

   "Thank you," he said.  "I thought it was supposed to hurt."

   "Most women today didn't get to watch to see how their mothers did it
because their mothers didn't breastfeed.  Would you like a pillow?"

   "I'm ok."

   "So, you going to tell me who you are?" the woman asked.

   Chapter Ten

   "You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth," Steve said to her.

   "You used to be a man," she replied as she sipped her tea.  "Or at least
someone that isn't used to being you."

   "Its that obvious?"

   "You wobble on those heels.  How old were you?"

   "Old enough to remember seeing Elvis on Ed Sullivan."

   "You're my age?...My, my."

   "Tell me about Sandra," he said.

   "She tried too hard- she was afraid of being herself.  She talked a lot
about killing herself and the baby.  I tried to get her to go get help, but
she would only shake her head.  Eventually, she quit coming around.  I
think she was embarrassed by what I knew."

   "I don't believe we're having this conversation," he said.  "I don't
believe I'm here.  Don't you question this?  Do you know how I got here?"

   "No I don't know why you are in the body you're in.  There are a lot of
things that I don't understand, but they are real just the same."

   She looked at him.

   "Talk to your husband," she said softly.

   "My husband?"

   "I want to give you something.  Will you accept a gift from me?"

   Steve was still trying to digest the husband idea.

   "Who are you?" he asked.

   "My name is Sarah.  Some think I'm the good witch." She smiled.

   "You're kidding, right?"

   She just continued to smile- a lot like the Cheshire Cat.  Getting up,
she went behind one of the counters, took something out of a lower shelf
and returned.  She held out a small white box to him.

   "Will you accept these- as a gesture of friendship?" she asked.

   She opened the box for him since he was still feeding the baby.  Inside
was a pair of large dangly earrings- they were very ornate-they were
obviously antique.

   "Well, I don't know if I could wear them."

   "Your ears are pierced."

   "They are?"

   "They will do you some good, I think.  Shall I put them on you?"

   He couldn't think of a way out of this gracefully.  She had been overly
kind to him.

   "Ok."

   She bent over him and brushed the hair behind one ear.  The earing
slipped on easily.  It felt heavy hanging from his earlobe.

   "I'm afraid all the hair will get tangled up in them," he said, as she
put the other one in.  "I've already had problems dealing with it.  And the
baby will probably yank it.  I've already been fighting to keep her from
pulling my hair."

   "Come over here," she said.

   He got up carefully and followed her to an ottoman sitting in front of a
mirror.  She motioned for him to sit down.  He took the seat, but faced
away from the mirror.

   She laughed.

   "Turn around."

   "Wait."

   He removed the baby from his breast, snapped up the cup and buttoned his
blouse before turning.  He still couldn't believe what he was looking at
had anything to do with him.  Sandra watched him from the mirror.  The
earrings were large.  The baby was rooting for the other breast.  He
unbuttoned and bared the other side and gave it to her.  He didn't want to
look up again.

   "You have to put your head up," Sarah said.

   She removed the clip from the back of his head.  The hair fell on his
shoulders.

   "What are you doing?"

   "Watch so you can do it yourself."

   She produced a small brush from her sweater pocket and began brushing
his hair and parting it.  He started to pull away, but for some reason he
checked himself.  She was only trying to help.  Pulling the hair in
strands, she began to french braid it.  One side was quickly done- the hair
gathered back in a plait behind the ear.

   "You think you can do this- I can take it out and let you try when the
baby's done."

   Steve looked at himself and nodded absently.  She started on the other
side.  He was a woman, he told himself.  He was sitting here with a baby
sucking his boob- there was nothing left of what he once was.

   He began to cry.  He couldn't stop.

   "Are you all right?" Sarah asked.

   "You're so nice-" he stammered through his tears.  "I don't cry- I never
cry...I didn't cry when my son disowned me- or even when my wife left
me...What's happening to me?"

   "Its probably just tension.  Don't worry.  Anybody would be stressed out
by losing your life."

   Steve laughed despite the streaks on his face.

   "God!"

   "You can blame it on hormones.  You might still be a man inside your
head but you're in a woman's body."

   "You're as crazy as I am," he said.

   "Maybe.  Try to wear the earrings- for me if not for yourself."

   "They're heavy."

   "Don't think about comfort- think about...well, I don't know...think
about what you need to do."

   Chapter Eleven



   Sarah told him about her life.  Her son that was grown and painting in
New York.  Her husband that had died twenty years before.  It was as if she
understood he was too confused to share anything about himself at this
point, so she filled up the hour with her own story and her own pain for
him to use as a comparison.  He didn't mind- she was an interesting person.
He wondered if he had met her as a man- in normal circumstances- he would
have found her as fascinating.  She was very spiritual.  He might have just
dismissed her awareness as just more new age flakiness.  Not now.  His
slate of preconcieved notions was wiped clean.  She did a bit of jewelry
making.  The earrings she had given him were her own- but mostly she just
ran her shop and took care of her cats.  She described the jewelry that she
created as an inspirational event- something that seldom occured.

   The baby began to get fussy after they had talked for awhile.  Steve
changed her and tried feeding her again and then walked up and down with
her.  She seemed to be getting more upset as time went on.  He was still
afraid to go back to the house, but didn't know what else he could do.  He
thought that taking her back to a setting she was familar with might
somehow help.  He couldn't think of anything else.  Sarah offered to walk
him back.  She locked up and they went.  Sarah pushed the stroller for him
because the baby wouldn't allow herself to be put down in it.  By the time
they reached the alley, the child was wailing.

   Steve was getting upset himself.  He was sure the whole world was
peering out of their windows at them- wondering why he was abusing the
baby.

   "Maybe you ate something weird?" Sarah asked, "That will affect your
milk.  She might be having a reaction to it."

   He suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten all morning.

   "You think the tea might be affecting her?" he asked.

   "No.  Its healthy- it was just orange herbal tea."

   They reached the house and Sarah held the baby while Steve found the
right key and opened the door.

   "Well, good luck," Sarah said.  "I really need to get back."

   Steve grimaced at her.  He took the baby inside and double locked the
door behind him.

   The baby cried non-stop for the next two hours.  Steve tried nursing-
she wasn't having any.  He tried walking with her up and down through the
house.  He changed her a couple of more times.  He recalled how his son as
a baby had been quieted by going for a ride in the car.

   He searched for thing that would hum like a car engine.  He ran the
dryer, then the vaccuum cleaner, then the blow dryer.  He sang songs.  He
gave up in frustration several times and just tried putting her in her crib
and leaving the room.  The wailing, heard from behind the nursery door,
sounded worse than it did next to his ear.  He got angry, then cried with
the baby.  Nothing he could do was helping her.  He was ready to decide
that there was something seriously with her and he had to get a taxi to
take them to the hospital.  At this point, he was again walking back and
forth through the house and singing to her.

   They were both sweaty and miserable.  It occured to him that a bath
might distract her.  He carried her into the bedroom and took off her
clothing and then shifting her from one hip to the other, started to take
off his own.  Getting his blouse and then the bra off one arm at a time was
an adventure.  He removed the earrings and dumped his skirt on the pile at
the end of the bed.  He'd figure out the panties later.

   He carried her into the bathroom.  The moment he turned on the water,
she stopped.

   Ok, he told himself.  He didn't bother to put the stopper in.  He let
the water run and sat on the toilet seat.  She took the breast easily now,
and so he sat there to feed her, afraid that any change might start the
wailing all over again.  The bathroom filled with steam from the bath.

   Chapter 12



   The baby was back in the crib, asleep, thank god.  Steve had returned to
the bathroom and turned off the water.  He had no interest in the bath now-
sitting in the steam-filled room until he was sure the baby was asleep- and
worrying the whole time about what the steam might be doing to the child-
left him drained.  He was soggy from head to foot anyway.  The braids were
two wet and heavy ropes hanging down his back.  He went into the bedroom
and climbed into bed.

   He thought he might try to take a nap, but knew he probably couldn't. 
There was too much to deal with.  He was worried that if he did fall
asleep, he wouldn't hear the baby.  And he was still half-afraid of someone
showing up and finding him naked.  (If he stayed awake, he could grab
something off the floor, if he heard something- the clothing was too much
hassle right now.) Sarah had told him he had a husband- he was too afraid
at the time to ask her any more about that- how could he have a husband?!
He had a penis.  Some guy walking in to find him was not going to be in a
friendly mood.

   He turned on his side.  His right breast was sort of lying on his left
one.  This was not what he could have ever imagined.  He cupped the boob on
top and squeezed it.  It was like anything else that was a part of his
body. Just flesh, except rubbery.  He had, secretly, imagined what it might
be like to be a woman.  He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't wondered
what it would be like.  He had never acted out any of his hidden fantasies-
his life had come and gone, and he had reached a point where he had
believed he was past his prime- that his life and all his potentials were
expended.  Any opportunity or chance to be any different that he hadn't
taken advantage of- wasn't going to be explored.  All the wild gender stuff
going on now was for younger people.  He giggled.  He had always thought
that having breasts was like having two penises on your chest.  That by
rubbing the nipples, they would get hard- and you'd get aroused.

   After an all day sucking bout with the baby, they felt like milk
bottles. This body was so different.  He couldn't lie on his stomach. 
Lying on his back felt weird.  Like his butt was up on a pillow and then
these things fell sideways against his arms.  The hair kept getting caught
underneath him and he couldn't just turn his head- he had to pull it out of
the way before he moved.

   What he felt inside was confusing and almost more troubling than the
changes to the way he looked on the outside.  He felt like he was filled to
the brim with raw emotions.  He used to move through the world almost
mindlessly.  There had been episodes with insecurities- was he performing
well- was he effective and decisive?  But now, he couldn't quite regain an
handle on anything that resembled confidence.

   It was as if he was a little boy again- wanting a parent to come comfort
him- to take care of him.  He was in a twenty year old body apparently. 
Was this how it was to be twenty?  Had he forgotten?

   He touched his penis, but that just felt like so much flesh too.  How
did women get aroused?  Did they think of nude male bodies?  He didn't want
to consider that.  He couldn't think of one man that he had ever looked at
in admiration.  He wasn't even sure he had seen another man nude in the
last twenty years.  The way he used to look- he had understood that some
women found him attractive and sexy- but he really hadn't ever thought
about the parts of it.  Had it been his rear- or the hair on his chest?  He
felt so goddamn asexual now.  He had jacked off at least once or twice
every day of his life- where were the urges now?  The thought that a
fantasy had been fullfilled in a strange way- his becoming an almost woman-
and having no sexual yearnings was depressing.  He wanted to go back to the
ways things were- if this was going to be it.

   Chapter Thirteen



   The loud pounding just outside the window above his head made him jolt
upright in bed.  He was naked!  He leapt up and grabbed the blouse and
skirt from the floor.  The pounding got louder.  Someone was hammering the
front door.  Ignoring the underwear, he pulled on the blouse and hurriedly
buttoned it over his boobs.  He was going to get another skirt- one that he
could move in- but he didn't have time now.  He pulled on the tight demin
skirt and zipped and buckled the belt.  He was scared.  Who the hell would
be pounding on a door like that?

   Pulling his braids out of the back of the blouse, he carefully
approached the window.  He peeked out of one corner of the shade.  It was
the blonde guy!  The man turned suddenly.  His face was contorted.  He
spotted Steve through the window.

   "Let me in, goddamn it!" he shouted.

   Steve backed away.

   "Goddamn it!"

   The guy was prying the screen off outside the glass.  It was tossed
aside in a moment and he was trying the force up the bottom sill.  Steve
backed up to the opposite side of the room.  What was he going to do?  All
the guy had to do was throw something and break the glass and he would be
climbing in.  There was nothing in the whole damn house to defend himself
with.  No knives- no nothing!  He grabbed the telephone and called
emergency.  It took forever for someone to come on the line.

   "Some guy is trying to break in my house!"

   "What's he doing?" came a tiny voice.

   "Please!  Help me!"

   "What's your address?"

   The window shattered.  Glass flew across the bed.  The man reached in,
undid the latch, and yanked the window up.  Steve threw the telephone at
the open gap and ran out of the bedroom.  Behind him, he could hear the
sound of the glass crunching as the guy climbed inside.

   He hesitated in the hallway.  He could could run for the back door and
get out- but he couldn't leave the baby!  Steve ran to the nursery.  The
baby was awake and crying.  He gathered her up and turned.  The guy was in
the only doorway out of the room.

   He seemed to be catching his breath.  His arms were bleeding from
crawling in through the broken window.  Steve looked around the room for
something to throw at him.  There wasn't anything!  The diaper pail.  He
grabbed it with his free hand.

   "Stay away from me!" he squeeked.

   The guy smiled and stepped toward him.  Steve swung the pail and caught
him in the side with it.  He fell against the wall and Steve tried to make
it through the doorway.  He was caught.  The guy had reached up and grabbed
his braid.

   "Let go!"

   The guy had regained his feet and with the other hand caught the other
braid.  He pulled Steve back.  He quickly had both braids in one hand at
the back of Steve's neck.  Tears came to his eyes.  The guy was going to
pull his hair out by the roots!

   "You weren't going to go anywhere, were you?" the guy asked.

   The baby was screaming in Steve's ear.

   "Please, let go!  The baby!"

   "Yeah.  So you feel like one big boob yet?" The guy pulled him around.
"Look at me!"

   "What?"

   "These, idiot!"

   He pulled the buttons apart on Steve's blouse with his other hand. 
Steve tried to twist free of him, but the hand at the back of his neck
jerked him back.

   "Are you having fun?" the guy shouted.

   "Please!  Don't hurt me.  The baby."

   "Are you feeling sexy yet?!" the guy shouted.

   "What do you want?"

   "My life back, you stupid whore!"

   Steve felt crazy.  He was dizzy and he couldn't focus.

   "Let me go!"

   He began thrashing at the guy with his free hand, but it wasn't doing
anything.  He was sobbing.

   "Please.  Don't hurt me any more." he begged.  "I'll do anything you
want."

   The guy shoved him to the floor.  It was all Steve could do to fall
without falling on the baby or losing his grasp of her.  She screamed.  As
soon as he caught his breath, he scooted across the carpet away from the
guy.  He clutched the baby to his neck.

   "Hello!" came a shout from the front of the house.

   The guy turned.

   "What's going on in here?" It was a man's voice.

   Chapter Fourteen



   The blonde guy picked up the diaper pail and left the room.  He moved
cautiously down the hall.

   "Watch out!" Steve screamed at whoever was out front.

   The baby was still crying- she was near to having convulsions.  He
hugged her tighter and comforted her and then tried to pull himself up. 
Damn this skirt!  The guy was out of sight.  Steve wondered if he might
make it out the back door.  There was a sudden shout from the living room
and the sound of scuffling.  Then the siren.  It stopped out front.  Steve
ventured out into the hallway.  Men's voices shouted from the living room.
There were heavy feet on the porch.  More scuffling.

   "Get down, you son-of-a-bitch!"

   Steve peeked from the hallway through the dining room.  There were two
cops and another man in the living room.  The two cops had the blonde guy
down on the floor on his stomach and were putting handcuffs on him.  The
front door was wide open.  Steve pulled his blouse together with one hand
and went out into the dining room.  The cops had the guy up and were
shoving him out the door.

   The other man, who Steve had never seen before, turned to him when he
appeared with the baby.

   "Are you all right?"

   Steve nodded.  The baby had begun to sob a little softer.

   "I knew you were here by yourself," the man said.  "I came in through
the window and the asshole jumped me."

   He turned and went out on the porch.  Steve followed him.  He knew he
was supposed to know who this man was- he hoped he could fake his way
through this and get them out of here.

   The cops were stuffing the blonde guy into the back of their patrol car.
After he was locked in, one of them returned to where they were standing.

   "So what happened?" the cop asked.

   "I'm the next door neighbor." the man told him.  "I heard the shouting
and the window break so I came running."

   The man was proud of himself.  Steve knew he had to be thankful- but all
he wished he could do was go hide somewhere.

   "He jumped me the same way he jumped you guys when you came in.  I knew
I had to get that door open, if I was going to get some help."

   "Do you know this guy?" the cop asked Steve.

   "No...  He came up to me earlier today when I was out for a walk.  He
threatened me then."

   "When was that?"

   "I don't know- this morning some time.  He was standing across the
street when I came out.  Then he shows up now.  He broke the window and
came in that way." Steve heard his voice break.  He swallowed, feeling the
tears welling up again.

   A car pulled up and parked behind the patrol car.  An angular dark
haired man climbed out and came rushing over.  Steve spotted the car and
the man almost immediately.  The car was the one he had driven away from
the bar last night.  Steve felt faint.  The man was the woman he had left
with.  The face was the same!  The cop turned, following the direction of
Steve's stunned stare.  The man came into the yard.

   "Who are you?" the cop asked.

   "The husband.  Sandy, are you all right?"

   Chapter Fifteen



   "I guess I'm all right," Steve said- the words barely making it out of
his mouth.  He was only slightly aware that the baby had fallen asleep at
his neck or that the neighbor and the cop were talking.  He couldn't hear a
word being said.  He just stared at the man that had said he was his
husband.  It was the woman from the night before all right.  The face had
no make-up, but the eyes, the brow and the lips were exactly the same.  The
hair was the same- a little flatter.  He looked at the man's body.  It was
a man's.  The shoulders were broad- he was thin in the hips.  The woman's
hips were what had convinced him he was following a real woman to her car.
The dark suit and loosened tie were convincing.  The man seemed to
understand Steve was in shock.  He returned his look with a quick flicker
of a wink- as if to tell Steve he knew exactly what was going on.  Steve
wanted to kill him.  The son-of-a-bitch did this to me, he thought.

   The man broke in on the neighbor reiterating his story for the cop.

   "Look, Sandy has had a rough time.  Can we come in later and give a full
statement.  The baby needs to be taken care of."

   The cop looked at him and then at Sandy and finally nodded.  The man
pulled out his wallet and pulled out a business card.  He borrowed the
policeman's pen and wrote a telephone number on the back.

   "This is our home phone.  We'll be over in a few hours to file a
complaint.  You've got Sam's statement." He turned to the neighbor.  "We
really appricate what you've done, Sam.  There's no way in world Sandy or I
could ever repay you for this.  You could've been killed."

   "That's all right.  You'd better get them inside and take care of them,"
the neighbor replied, patting him on the shoulder.

   The man gently took Steve's elbow and turned him toward the door.  Steve
went in.  He had a sudden frantic thought that he might be better off
outside with the baby and holding his ripped blouse than coming in here to
be alone with this person- or thing- he didn't know.  The cop and the
neighbor seemed like regular people.  This man didn't.

   Steve glanced up at the man's face.  His eyes were looking back at him
everytime he looked- almost as if his thoughts were being read.

   "Who are you?" Steve whispered.

   "Shhh," the man said and closed and locked the front door.

   "Look," he said, turning back to Steve.  "I'm really sorry this has
happened.  I'll make it up to you.  I promise.  Why don't you take care of
the baby- or give her to me and I'll take care of her.  You need to get
yourself together.  You've had a rough time.  I can see it in your eyes."

   "Why should I do anything you tell me?" Steve was getting angry.

   "You don't have to do anything, ok?" He scratched his forehead.  "I need
to clean up the glass and figure out something to cover the broken window.
You can do whatever you like.  As soon, as that's done and the baby's ok, I
would like a drink.  I will tell you everthing, I promise.  I'm not a
dishonest person.  I was supposed to be here when you woke up this
morning."

   "Go fix the window," Steve told him.

   The man started for the back of the house.

   "What's your name, anyway?" Steve called after him.

   The man turned, surprised.

   "Aaron."

   They looked at each other and then Aaron went back through the kitchen.
Well, Steve thought to himself.  The baby was asleep- probably from shock.
He carried her back to the nursery and after holding her up and looking her
over to make sure she wasn't bruised or cut, and after nudging her awake a
little, to make sure she wasn't comatose, he put her down in the crib.  He
tucked the blankets around her and watched her for awhile just to be sure
she was breathing properly.  She didn't seem any the worse for wear.  He
looked around the room, thinking things needed to be picked up after that
struggle.  (Thinking about sent a shiver through him.) Nothing was a bit
out of place.  He turned off the light and went into the bedroom.

   He needed some new clothes.  The bedroom and the bed had already been
swept clean of the broken glass and Aaron was outside the window, on the
front porch, fitting the outside window sill with a couple sheets of
plywood.  He had removed the coat and tie and was busy hammering a piece
across the bottom half of the window.  Steve had a strange sensation of
somehow watching himself at work out there.  He went to the underwear
drawer and picked out a clean bra and panties.

   It suddenly dawned on him- if this guy was supposed to be his husband
then where was his clothes- his underwear.  He was being set-up again! 
Picking out another blouse and skirt from the closet, he quickly left the
room.  He imagined that the guy had intended him to change in the bedroom-
just so he could get a eyeful.  Then he realized he was just vain and a bit
silly.  He was honestly fixing the window, anyway.  Steve went to the
bathroom and locked himself in.

   He unlocked it a second later and cracked it open so he could hear if
"Aaron" started toward the nursery.

   Chapter Sixteen



   Steve found he couldn't hook the clasps on on his bra- his hands were
trembling too much.  He sat down on the toilet seat and covered his face
with his hands.  He refused to cry.  Damn this body!  He had been too
afraid- he had been knocked around by a madman- made to beg for his life-
if this was what being a woman was, he didn't want any part of it.  And
this guy out here fixing the window!  Who the hell was he?  To top it all
off, he was driven to be protective and maternal toward a baby that wasn't
his!  He had been willing to let the blonde guy rape him just so he'd leave
the baby alone.  Right- what was he going to rape?  He was truly going
crazy.

   After a bit, he calmed down and the trembling went away.  He stood and
started the process of getting dressed.  It seemed to be a process- it used
to be so easy- pull on your underwear and pants- button a shirt.  Now it
was this bra- and pads, panties that still felt like they rode too high. 
The buttons were on the opposite side and the blouses weren't exactly
comfortable- there was either too much fabric or they were tight in places
that made you feel like if you moved too quickly something would rip.  This
one buttoned tightly under his boobs- making them even more apparent than
they were- and had sleeves like balloons.  The skirt he had picked out was
going to be easier to move in, but it was a real light fabric and flowery.
He felt naked underneath.

   He undid the braids, which were nearly unraveled anyway, and combed out
the hair.  Washing his face, he looked at himself again- shook his head and
went out.

   The guy was sitting in the living room, sipping a drink.  There was a
second glass on the coffee table.

   "I made you one- I didn't know what you liked...Rum and coke ok?"

   "If that's all that's in it," Steve said.

   "I promise."

   They looked at each other.

   "Come and sit down.  I won't bite you," Aaron said.

   Steve sat.  He sipped the drink.  It tasted good.  He needed one.

   "Are you all right- you've been through hell, I know."

   "So how did I get in this body?  And who the hell are you?" Steve asked.

   "I don't know where to start.  I'm a different species than you- but not
so different that we don't have things in common and can't interbreed."

   "So you're my favorite martian?  Give me a break."

   "About third generation my favorite martian."

   Steve realized he wasn't joking.

   "There's about thirty thousand of us- I think.  The original families
that immigrated have spread out and inter-married.  It hard to know how
many or where we all are now."

   Steve didn't know what to say.

   "All that's really beside the point, I guess.  I met Sandy- whose body
you have now- we fell in love and got married."

   "Martians don't need clothes or toothbushes?  There's nothing in this
house that belongs to you- how can you be the husband?"

   "I understand your anger.  Just let me explain.  We separated about two
months ago.  Look- we have the ability to change our shape...and change
others."

   "None of this makes any sense," Steve said.  "So you wanted to get a new
Sandy- one that would be what you wanted her to be- or one that would take
you back?"

   "Its nothing like that at all.  Give me a chance!"

   "Go ahead."

   "Do you know what a transsexual is?" he asked.

   Steve nodded.  He swallowed, even though he didn't want to.

   "I'm a transsexual.  I was born female- but I'm not.  Sandy thought she
was in the same boat.  Sandy is the blonde guy that the police took away
for attacking you.  That's the way he looked when I met him.  He was born a
man."

   "He's mad," Steve said.

   "Yeah." Aaron rubbed his face.  "We wanted to have children- but we
wanted each other's roles.  So I got pregnant with Ally and we started a
transformation.  Once the change is complete- 100% complete- it can't be
reversed.  By the time I was ready to deliver, I looked like a pregnant
man- with a vagina- and Sandy looked the way you do now.

   "After the baby came the whole thing blew up.  She had trouble dealing
with taking care of the baby.  She started hating me- blaming me for all of
her discomfort.  We split up and I moved out.  She tried to commit sucide
twice.  I had pretty much decided I needed to take the baby from her- but
she fought me tooth and nail- I looked like a father- father's don't get
custody of new-borns.  Three days ago, she called me to come over and when
I got here, she demanded that I change her back to a man.
...................wanted a nurse for the baby."

   "No!" He took a drink.  "Well maybe I did- but its not the way you
think. I wasn't- I didn't intend to leave you this way.  I was lonely and
crazed.  I had a babysitter here when I couldn't be here- I've had no sleep
in three days.  The babysitter agreed to stay last night, so I went out to
that bar- I started out just drinking- but the crowd was so gender crazed-
I decided maybe I could find someone else like me.

   "I can disguise myself.  And I met you.  We came back here- and you
seemed to want it.  I can't force a change on anyone that doesn't want it!
Its like hypnosis- I can't make you do anything against your will.  It was
supposed to be just a fling- you would wake up like you were!  I'm sorry
for all of this.  I really am.  At two in the morning, Sandy was out front
screaming for me.  I went out to talk to him- he was going to blow his
brains out- he had a pistol.  I calmed him down and promised to take him to
my place since he wouldn't come in here.  I came back in to get dressed and
you wouldn't let me change you back!"

   "So you left me here alone with the baby?"

   "The babysitter was here- I swear.  You can call her if you want- let me
get you the number." He pulled out his wallet and gave Steve a card with a
number scrawled on it.  "She must have got up and saw you in the bed and
thought you were Sandy- so she left."

   Steve just gazed at the card.

   "So where have you been all fucking day long?" Steve asked.

   Aaron looked at the ceiling.

   "Well?"

   "I was asleep," he murmured.

   "What?!"

   "I was exhusted.  I'm sorry- Look, I'll make it up to you now.  You can
go back to your life- just as you were- or better yet, I could shave ten or
fifteen years off your age.  Would that make up for this fiasco?  I've no
real excuse for what has happened.  If there is any way I can fix it- I
will."

   "Fuck you!" Steve screamed at him.  "You expect me to believe all this
cock and bull?"

   Aaron stood up.

   "Let's get it over with, ok?  Then you can get out of here."

   Chapter Seventeen



   Steve didn't get up.  Aaron was ready to do his magic trick, but Steve
suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the way he had been.  To be
honest, he hadn't believed any of it until Aaron stood up.

   "What about the baby?" he heard himself ask.

   "We'll make out.  I've been handling it for three days."

   "You've been giving her bottles?"

   "She didn't like it at first," Aaron said.  "But its been crazy here.  A
bottle is a lot better than a suicidal mother."

   "What if I gave you more time to get things settled?" Steve asked.

   "Why would you want to do that?"

   "I'm not sure.  I wasn't happy where I was in my life.  Maybe this is a
time out.  Ally's your baby- would you trust me to help out for a week?"

   Aaron shrugged.

   "I trust her with the babysitter.  What do you want in return?"

   "Some blue jeans and some tennis shoes to start.  Are all these clothes
your doing?"

   "No.  Sandy went out of her way to be the ultra feminine perfect
housewife- like if she looked like Donna Reed she would be happy.  You want
to be a woman permanently?" Aaron asked.

   "Maybe not- I don't like being terrorized or man-handled.  You think
Sandy will be back?"

   "Not if I press charges.  I thought tomorrow that I could hire her a
lawyer and a shrink.  I think that it could be worked so she's
institutionalized so she can get some help.  I still love her."

   "Is it going to bother you that I'm her double?"

   He sighed.  "Probably."

   "I don't think I can sleep with you again," Steve said.  "It's too
weird."

   "All right.  You didn't answer my question.  What do you want in return?
I think I could handle it easier if it felt like you were working for me,"
he said.

   "Maybe I want to try on being female, is that all right?  I'm a little
scared of the whole thing.  I guess what I want you to agree to is to
change me back if I want or leave me the way I am if I want.  No more
drunken fantasies."

   "All right.  Its a deal." Aaron offered his hand.  Steve hesitated, but
then shook it.  Aaron held on a split second too long.

   "There's a few things I need though," Steve said.  "I need you to change
my voice back for a about an hour in the morning so I can arrange my
absence.  Can you do that?" Aaron nodded.  "I want you to take me and the
baby shopping so I can get some more comfortable clothes."

   "That's it?"

   "That's all I can think of," Steve said.

   "You want another drink?" Aaron asked.

   "Ok."

   "I like you," Aaron said, walking back to the kitchen, "You're tough."

   When he returned with their refills, he had a slight grin on his face.

   "What's funny?" Steve asked.

   "I'm glad I met you.  What do I call you- you know, a name?"

   "I don't know- how about Steve?  I don't know if I'd respond to anything
else."

   "You think Stevie might be all right?"

   Steve frowned.

   "I know how you feel," Aaron said.  "I was Erica for years and I hated
it."

   Chapter Eighteen



   The second drink had Steve feeling drunk.

   "I don't think I'm going to last long.  I forgot to eat today," he told
Aaron.

   "You want me to fix you something?"

   "No, I'm ok.  I'm not really hungry.  The buzz feels nice.  How come I
don't remember anything from last night?  The last thing I did was get in
your car and start driving- and you were playing with me."

   "Well, I'm not sure.  The first time with Sandy, she couldn't remember
either.  I guess it has to do with the process.  It's sort of like I'm
engulfing you or hypnotizing you."

   "Did we fuck?"

   "Yes."

   "Doesn't that make you feel at little guilty- sort of like fucking
somebody when they're drunk or high?"

   "I can't make you do anything against your will."

   "So how- I mean- I got a penis.  You still got a woman's parts?"

   "Yes- and a period."

   "So gets on top?"

   "Whoever wants to."

   "So did you think- pretend I was Sandy?"

   "You're still a man- you want to know if she was bigger than you?" Aaron
asked.

   "Well, I wasn't really thinking of that."

   "You are more agressive- even when you're under the influence.  There's
a way of creating an illusion- like the one last night when you thought I
was a full-fledged woman.  You can feel what its like to be completely
female and I get to play being a man."

   "You did that with Sandy?"

   "More and more as time went on- only its hard to keep it up- as they
say."

   Steve giggled.

   "Damn this-" he said.  "I catch myself- you know- suddenly I hear this
little girl voice coming out of my mouth.  Or I hee hee or I catch myself
chewing on a fingernail.  Am I supposed to just fall head first into being
a girl?"

   "I think you're getting drunk."

   "Time for bed."

   Steve stood up and immediately lost his balance.  Aaron was up and
grabbing his arm to steady him.

   "You can touch?" Steve asked.

   "I was afraid you'd hurt yourself."

   Aaron let him go.  He took a step and grabbed the man's arm again.

   "If you'd kindly show me to my room, I guess I'd appreciate it.  But you
can't stay."

   "I'll sleep out here." Aaron told him.

   "I guess that's all right- seeing how you're the employer and all."

   Aaron helped him into the bedroom.  Once through the door, Steve forgot
himself and started stripping, dropping the blouse and skirt on the floor.
He pulled down the bed clumsily and plopped down.  Aaron was still there.

   "You didn't see anything, did you?  I forgot I'm supposed to be
cautious. The sight of my body might drive you wild with desire.  I need to
learn that yet."

   Aaron laughed.

   "You won't hurt me, will you?" Steve asked.

   Aaron was tucking him in.

   "No, I promise."

   "You know what?  The whole reason why I wanted to stay a week?"

   "What?"

   "The whole reason- besides you being a nice person- was that I really
really like these boobs, you know?  I think I've wanted them all my life.
I'm not sure I ever want to lose them."

   "Well, you can tell me what you want next week."

   "What did you do with my suit?

   "Its under the bed.  I thought it would be safe there.  I couldn't find
an empty hanger."

   "Well, it all makes sense now."

   Steve snuggled down under the blankets and Aaron turned off the light.
He was soon breathing softly and regularly.  Aaron stood in the doorway for
a bit and just watched him sleep.  He had a great deal of mixed emotions
about this.  He felt he had somehow gotten a second chance.  The woman
before him was the gorgeous creature he had helped create.  Sandy had asked
for looks and a body that would push all his buttons- but inside Sandy had
been so different.  This person was wise and strong and at ease with him.
This was all brand new.  Something had to go wrong- she would decide she
wanted out- or worse, that she didn't want him.  He was guilty about doing
this to her- he should have given a different body- or given her the
choice. Damn it, he had given her a choice.  He had a week.  It was up to
him to convince her that maybe she could love him.

   Chapter Nineteen



   Steve jumped.  There was someone in the room- over the bed!  It took a
second to come to his senses.  Aaron was standing there in the darkness.

   "What?!"

   "Ally."

   He held out the baby.

   "Oh- I thought..."

   Steve took the child and nestled down with her next to him.  He
unsnapped his bra and dropped the pad on the floor.

   "I've heard tell this can be done," he murmured to the baby.

   He gave the baby the breast and she was quickly feeding contentedly. 
Aaron was leaving.

   "Thanks," Steve called after him.

   He nursed, dozed, and woke up again and moved her to the other side and
fell asleep again.  Again came the dreams of someone or something making
love to this body without him being able to see or feel them.

   He slept uneasily and awoke again sometime in the early morning. 
Groggily, he carried the baby back to the nursery and put her down in the
crib.  His bladder was full.  He went to the bathroom surrounded by the
dark heavy fog.  Pulling down the front of his panties, he groped for his
penis and couldn't find it!  Jesus Christ!  His hand felt heavy-like he was
reaching into a tub of lard.  He tried to wake up more.  The heaviness
lingered.

   "Aaron!" he shouted.  "What have you done?!"

   He couldn't hold it any longer.  Afraid and confused about where it
might come out, he sat on the toilet.  It gushed from somewhere inside him,
but afterwards, when he tried to feel there to see what he had, he couldn't
seem to locate any body parts.

   "Aaron!" he screamed.

   The man's silouhette was in the doorway.

   "What's going on?" Steve demanded.

   "What do you mean?"

   "I can't find my penis!"

   "What do you mean?"

   "I can't find my penis!"

   "You're sleepwalking."

   Aaron turned on the light.  Steve squinted.  He felt like he was rubber.
Everything looked slightly opaque.

   "You're shifting shape!" Aaron said.

   "Stop it!"

   "I'm not doing it, I swear!"

   "Help me!"

   "Take my hands."

   He grabbed Aaron's outstretched fingers.  They were a thousand miles
away.  He could see that they were holding each other, but he couldn't feel
it in his own hands.  There was a thud inside him- like he had just landed
after jumping in the air.  The fog dissolved into stars flickering away
from his face.  He could feel himself again.  He looked down.  The penis
was there now.  Did it look smaller?

   Releasing Aaron's hands, he pulled up his panties.

   "What happened?"

   "I don't have any idea.  You're doing something on your own, I think."

   Steve quickly looked at himself in the mirror.  The face was the same.

   "Is it going to happen again?"

   "I don't know-"

   Aaron looked tired.  The shirt he was was wearing as a nightshirt was
badly rumpled.  Steve glanced at the man's bare legs.  They were hairy.

   "What time is it?" he asked.

   "I don't know.  Maybe about four thirty," Aaron said.

   "I don't think I can sleep anymore.  What if this happens again?"

   "Well, I'm here.  I'll catch you."

   "You going to stay awake?"

   "If you want me to," Aaron said.

   "I'll go put something on.  Don't go back to sleep, please."

   Aaron nodded.  Steve edged by him and returned to the bedroom.  He
rifled the drawers, hoping to find something that wasn't a extra short
frilly gauzey nightie, but had no luck.  Frustrated, he finally just
grabbed one.  Damn this bra- suddenly he was aware how uncomfortable it
was. Pulling it off, he slipped the nightie over his head and went to find
Aaron.

   Part II- Chapter Twenty



   Sandy woke up on the bench.  He was stiff from sleeping on the hard
surface of the wood and his neck ached.  It was middle of the night.

   The lights in the holding cell had been turned off, so the light from
the hallway beyond the bars cast long shadows behind the bodies of the
sleeping men.  The bars seemed to be spread across them like a blanket.

   The stench was overpowering.  The floor and the walls smelled of urine
and soured alcohol and sweat.

   He sat up, feeling as though he had awakened in the middle of a
nightmare.  He was a man all right- transformed back- and plopped into this
morass of manhood.  He wanted to cry.  Where had his pretty dresses gone?

   With his headache.  This was the first time in four days that he could
sit up and look around without his forehead pounding.  Where had it gone?
He could think now.  Before, through all of what he could remember of what
had brought him here, he hadn't been able to see clearly or have one clear
thought without the thundering pain.

   He watched the two men in the open cubical where the toilets were.  They
had pulled their shirts off and were stuffing them into one of the toilets.
They were flushing over and over again.  Water began to seep over the top
and splash on the tile floor.  They kept on pumping the handle.  They must
be insane, he thought to himself.  Should he call the guard- or pretend to
go back to sleep.  If they realized he was awake, they might decide to
hassle him.  He watched in fascination as the water continued to pour out
across the floor.  In a bit, it was running out into the main cell.  Some
of the men began to stir when the water reached them.  Soon, one of the
sleeping men jumped up shouting.

   "What the fuck are you doing, you assholes?!!"

   Others were up, cussing and shaking themselves.  Someone was shouting
for the guards.  The water had now covered a third of the cell.  The guards
arrived quickly and were soon inside, trying to strong-arm their way
through the confused angry men.  They were pulling the two culprits away
from the toilets.  Sandy retreated to a far corner, away from the water and
the commotion.  He couldn't really see what was going on.  There were too
many bodies between him and the toilets.  Finally, the two men were pulled
outside and were struggling with the guards.  They broke free and began to
run down the hallway.  As the cell door had been left open by mistake, a
number of the men began shoving their way out.  Sandy joined them, elbowing
his way among the others that all had the same idea.  He couldn't even see
the door, but he struggled anyway.  He had to escape this.  Somehow he
reached it- only to be pushed to the floor right outside.  Legs surrounded
him, rushing this way and that.  His hands and feet were trampled.  He
crawled down the hallway on all fours, trying to stay up despite the abuse
around him.  Guards were fighting with the men standing upright.  A baton
whacked his back.  He crawled on and finally found a space near a wall
where he could regain his feet.  There was fighting all around him.  He was
in front of a restroom door.  He slipped inside and went in one of the
stalls.  Locking the door, he climbed atop the toilet and crouched and
waited.  The noises from outside echoed through the restroom.  Time passed
and it grew quieter and quieter outside.  Someone entered and then left. 
He waited forever.

   With the morning, if they hadn't found him, he would try to walk out. 
He had to escape.  He had to get his life back.  His child back.

   Chapter Twenty-One



   Steve was too afraid to leave Aaron's presence.  What had happened in
the bathroom might happen again- what would he have become if Aaron hadn't
been there to pull him back.  They had talked about it.  Aaron couldn't
understand why it was happening and he wasn't sure what the result would be
if the shifting was just allowed to progress.  They talked a bit longer-
about themselves.  Somehow it turned to their respective childhoods.  Aaron
had been confused most of his life.  Steve could relate although he felt he
had just walled up that confused part of himself- Aaron had carried the
tangled mess around openly.  Steve found himself wanting to comfort the
man. Aaron's pain and confusion seemed so much more intense than his own.

   "But that was before," Aarron said a couple of times.

   They talked about high school.  Steve felt a little embarrassed as he
sat there in his baby doll outfit and told Aaron about playing football and
being the star of the wrestling team.  He almost wanted to make up
something more appropriate- like being a cheerleader.

   Aaron had played womens' basketball and had had no dates.  They talked
and then watched television for awhile and Aaron fell asleep where he was
sitting.  Steve watched him for a long time.  There was nothing on the tube
at 2:00 in the morning.  He was cold, but was afraid to go find a robe or a
blanket.  Curling up on the other end of the couch, he dozed.

   He awakened in what seemed just a short time.  He was shivering. 
Outside, beyond the shades, the sky was beginning to get lighter.  He
nudged Aaron awake.

   "Its morning."

   Aaron stirred and took his hand.

   "You are freezing," he said.  He began rubbing Steve's hands to warm
them.  Steve was surprised at himself for letting him.

   "Let me get you a blanket or something."

   "I'll go with you."

   He followed the man into the bedroom and waited as he went through the
drawers.

   "The shawl will do," Steve told him.

   "That won't keep you warm."

   "Sure it will.  Let's go make some breakfast.  That will warm me up."

   Steve let him wrap the shawl over his shoulders.

   They went into the kitchen.  When Aaron flicked on the light, the sudden
brightness seemed harsh.  They set to work finding eggs and bread.  Aaron
made coffee.  As they moved about the small room, they brushed against one
another.  Steve began wondering if he was intentionally getting in the
man's way.  Finally, at one point, when Steve carried the bowl of whipped
eggs to the stove, he bumped Aaron.

   The man turned and firmly grasped Steve's waist.

   "Stay put for a minute," Aaron said.

   They looked at each other.

   Aaron pulled him into his arms and kissed him passionately.  His hands
were gently caressing Steve's round ass.  Steve was getting aroused.  He
pulled away.  They both had to catch their breath.  Steve turned away.  He
had an erection.  The flimsy fabric of the nightie did absolutely nothing
to hide it.  He was sure he was turning beet red from the top of his head
to his toes.

   "Stevie," Aaron said.

   "Let's make breakfast, ok?"

   "Sure," Aaron replied.

   Chapter Twenty Two



   They ate their breakfast nervously.

   "Look," Aaron finally said.  "I'm sorry about what happened a minute
ago. I just got carried away.  I won't do it again."

   "It takes two," Steve said.  "I'm as much to blame.  I'm scared of this
whole thing.  You got to me- in the bar- and I guess you still do.  I need
to go real slow."

   "Friends?" Aaron asked.

   "Sure."

   They finished and Steve carried the dishes to the sink.  He caught
himself.  Why was he washing up as Aaron just sat there?  He had picked up
and started the water without a thought.  Was this part of the hypnotic
stuff Aaron had compared the shape shifting to?  Were there all kinds of
little suggestions hidden away in his brain that he didn't know were there?
It would explain why some things came naturally.

   He threw a dish towel at the guy.

   "You can dry."

   Aaron got up to help.

   Steve had never been limp wristed in his life.  It would have made him
look gay.  He had never played with his hair or collar when he talked.  He
would have to ask Aaron about it sometime.  Right now, he was a bit afraid
to find out the answer.  What if the sexual stuff he was feeling was
planted there.  As he handed each piece to Aaron, he found himself wishing
that he would reach over and rub his rear again.  He had a sudden fantasy
of Aaron behind him at the sink, pressing against his back side and
fondling his breasts under the nightie.  He quickly finished washing up.

   Before too long, the baby awoke and nursed.  They took turns taking a
shower and getting dressed, while the other entertained the child.  Steve
was nervous at leaving Aaron's side to go shower alone and then dress
alone, but he figured a shout would bring him running.  It was soon
mid-morning.

   He reminded Aaron that he needed his old voice back to make arrangements
and Aaron simply stood and rubbed Steve's neck for a moment.  Steve wanted
to giggle- the guy had a soft senual touch- but the giggle came out too
deep.

   "Boy, do I sound strange," he said in his previous voice.

   Aaron smiled.

   Steve went into the bedroom to make the calls, and after picking up the
phone, realized he might need his calling card if there was a problem with
one guy in San Francisco who he was supposed to meet this week.  He got
down and looked under the bed for his suit.  It wasn't there.  All right,
he said to himself.  He went around and checked the other side.  Nothing.
What was he supposed to do?  Go out and confront the son-of-a-bitch?

   Why would he think Steve wouldn't look?  It was a stupid lie- if it was
a lie?  Aaron would just come in here and look for the suit and tell him
that it had been there and he didn't know what had happened to it.  That he
couldn't understand what was going on.  Steve wasn't sure what to do.  The
clothing didn't really matter- he couldn't use it.  The wallet was the
problem- his Readyteller card- his credit cards could still be used to some
extent if he needed them.

   He called his secetary.  After telling her a story about the sudden
death in his family and dealing with his appointments, he asked her to
retreive his boxes of blank checks from his office desk.

   "There's some funeral arrangements to be paid for and I'm out of
checks." He got the purse off the bureau and got out his female Driver's
License.  "Mail a book to this address, would you?"

   He read her off the address and hoped it was correct.  At least this
way, he could write himself a check if he needed some cash.  "Well, see you
in a week."

   Chapter Twenty Three



   The entire time Steve and Aaron sat with the police detective to fill
out the complaint form, the policeman never once looked Steve in the eye.
When he did look up, to act as if he was listening or to ask a question, he
looked directly at Steve's breasts.  If Steve hadn't been juggling the baby
and trying to keep her occupied, he might have gotten up and reached for
the man's chin to force his face up.  His questions weren't particularly
friendly either.  Steve ended up feeling as though the cop was convinced
from the very beginning that his attacker was a spurned lover and that
Steve was really to blame somehow for the whole affair.  Steve wanted to
tell him the entire truth, just to watch his jaw drop.  The dress he had
found to wear wasn't helping matters any.  Knowing he would have to
breastfeed while they were out, he had picked a number that buttoned down
the front (there hadn't been many of them).  The scoop neckline was a
little too scooped.  It had taken some time to find a bra that didn't show.


   By the time the form was completed, Steve was ticked.

   He ranted at Aaron once they were outside.

   They drove to the mall and unloaded all the stuff they needed for the
baby- the stroller, diaperbag and the small blanket for Steve to use.  He
was thankful Aaron was along to help with all this equipment.

   He couldn't imagine unloading and getting the baby out by himself.  They
went in.  Steve was nervous.  He wasn't sure where to go or what to look
for.  Aaron had promised to help, so at his suggestion, they headed off to
a department store where he had a credit card.  The people walking by
unnerved Steve.  Everyone was looking at him.  He first thought that he
must be doing something wrong or that he was walking funny.  He had never
had so much attention in his whole life.  Every man that passed or that
they passed looked him over from head to foot.  Their heads turned to
follow him.  He would glance over his shoulder and find them looking back
at him over their shoulders.

   The women looked first at the baby, then at him and then smiled.

   Everyone seemed to know who he really was.  They were laughing at him.
"Why is everyone watching me?" he finally whispered to Aaron.

   "The men look because you're sexy.  Do you feel sexy?"

   Steve stared at him.  He had heard those words before- out of Sandy's
mouth.

   "What?!"

   "There's nothing wrong with the way you look or act.  You look good-
that's why they are looking."

   "The women look too."

   "Women like babies," he said.

   "Well, I don't feel good."

   "You sick?"

   "No.  I don't know if I like this."

   "The looks are compliments of a sort."

   "I've never had this kind of impact on people."

   "I'd think it would make you feel good.  It made Sandy feel sexy and
appreciated."

   "I'm not Sandy, damn it!" Steve said.  "Is that something you can do
too- change somebody else's feelings?"

   "If you want," Aaron said.

   He was being too casual about the whole thing.

   "You can make me feel sexy if I want you to?"

   He shrugged.

   "What is that supposed to mean?  Answer me."

   "Yes, would you want that?"

   "No!"

   Steve was growing a little frightened.  What would prevent Aaron from
manipulating him into anything?  He could make emotions happen.  Steve
could be made to act or think whatever he pleased.

   Aaron noticed the look on his face.

   "I can't make you do anything you don't want to do.  Honest."

   "I don't need a hard-on in public, all right?"

   "All right.  Stevie, I know it's difficult, but you can trust me."

   TO BE CONTINUED? 
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