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The Blue Necklace Ch. 01

By: MissLisaJones



Hmm... Not so much of a sex story as much as a love story with sexy bits and even those are hardly X rated, unless, of course, you find the whole transgender thing a turn on.

It's also very slow to build. If you're looking for a quick thrill look elsewhere.

Chapter One: The Change

Looking back it's as if it never happened. It's almost as if it were all a dream. Maybe it was a dream but, if so, I've never had a dream that felt so real. Mind you, nowadays, I'm not so certain about what's real and what's not.

But, if it was a dream, then it's a dream that's fading and, if I don't write it down now, then I just know it will get forgotten. So here goes, this is my story. Was this a dream? Was this real? When all is said and done can you tell the difference? 

Back when it started I was called Tom and, seriously, I could not have been more normal. I'd graduated from college with a so-so degree in Business Studies and, finding the job market to be harsh and unforgiving, ended up doing a dead end desk job for a company that sells office furniture. If your chairs didn't arrive on time then I was the guy you shouted at. And, yes, I had to put up with a lot of shouting. It was hardly a career but at least it paid the rent.

And rent, in those days, was a two bedroom apartment that I shared with Andy.

Andy and I had met on our first day of college and simply clicked. OK, it had started off with one of those crazy arguments over the merits, or otherwise, of Coldplay or The Arctic Monkeys, which kinda dates things but we were young and passionate about our music and, while we couldn't agree on their various merits we could agree that, somehow, it was important for us.

It wasn't long before we were going to gigs together and, after that, it was our habit to meet up in the student bar for a swift pint most evenings.

By our second year in college we decided that we should flat share. In many ways it was perfect. OK, so he was a bit of a slob and, even in those days, I liked to keep things tidy, but we pretty much liked the same things, kept the same hours and we understood each other.

When college was over we both needed to move on but when Andy told me he'd found a place in town but needed some help to pay the rent the obvious solution was for me to move in with him.

Now, I know what you're thinking but, seriously, I'm not gay, not now, not then, not ever. We were mates, good mates, but that's where it ended. There was never even the slightest hint of anything further than that. What's more we both dated. Nothing serious, nothing long term, but it was not unusual for me to find some strange woman searching the kitchen for a clean coffee mug come Saturday morning. Me, I had my fair share of conquests but nothing like as many as Andy.

I guess I might have gone on like that forever if it weren't for the day it I bought the necklace.

Andy had picked up this super cheap holiday deal; seven nights in Albufeira for next to nothing and we were having a ball. Working on our tans during the day, partying all night, pulling the chicks and having fun. One night Andy had pulled and I'd struck out which meant that I got the sofa bed and had to spend the night listening to the noises from their sexual gymnastics coming through the wall. When I woke up the next morning I'd had enough of this so I set out on my own and gave him and the bird he'd pulled some time alone in the apartment. I was wandering through the town, very much at a loose end, when I found a little backstreet market. It wasn't much, mostly food stalls but there were enough selling the usual tourist tat to keep my interest. In particular I hoped I'd find something for that gap over the fireplace. I've always loved a street market so I spent quite a while browsing and there, in a quiet corner, was the one stall that really caught my eye. 

Most of the stall was given over to that brightly painted pottery that you seem to find everywhere out there but, as well as that, they had necklaces; nothing much, just a leather thong which was threaded through a small pottery pendant. Although they were about as cheaply made as they come there was something about them, something that really spoke to me and I couldn't help but pick one up and examine it closely. 

Of course, the stall attendant, a woman bent almost double with age, honed in on this and I was suddenly at the end of her full strength sales pitch. 

"You like these? They are very good, very good price. Here, try this one."

She was so insistent she had me look at practically every necklace on the stall but none of them quite made it for me. Each was close but each had something missing, something I couldn't put my finger on.

"Still can't find the one you like? You buy for someone very special?" she gushed. "How about this one? Very pretty, very good price. To you only five euros."

Five euros for a friggin' necklace! She had to be joking. Even so I took it from her and, as I did so, our hands touched. Was there a spark that ran between us or was that my stupid fancy. Whichever, fast as a snake, she grabbed my wrist and held me tight. I gasped in surprise and tried to pull away but her grip was firm. 

"What.... what are you doing?" I spluttered.

She didn't answer but just looked at me and our eyes locked. I had the strangest feeling as if she was looking right into the depths of me and, for the life of me, I couldn't look away if I tried.

"No, this is not the one for you," she said after a while. "But this is not a problem; you have come to the right place. I have just the necklace for you. One moment."

She let go of my wrist and searched beneath the counter for a large leather pouch. This she opened up and laid flat on the counter so as to show a number of necklaces but, this time, of a far higher quality and, in particular, these were not on leather thongs but, rather, on silver chains. She sorted through until she found the one she wanted.

"Yes, this is the one. This is the one for you. Look! Look! The blue, it matches your sweetheart's eyes. If you wear this you will be his forever. Look."

She handed it over and, yes, it was a pretty blue and quite a finely worked piece unlike the rather rustic versions that I had been looking over before. The more I looked at it the more it spoke to me. It really was quite startlingly beautiful.

"You like this one?"

"Yes, yes, it's very nice but I'll tell you one thing; it doesn't match my sweetheart's eyes because I haven't got one."

"Ah, but you have., a very dear sweetheart. You just don't know it yet. You have a strange road to follow and this will help you get there. This is the necklace for you. Take it, take it!"

I looked again. It really was rather fine and, without for one moment knowing why, I knew I had to have it.

"OK, I'll take it. How much do I owe you?"

"Fifty euros. It is very pretty, yes."

"Very pretty. Thank you," and, before I knew it, I had given her a fifty euro note. She wrapped up the necklace in tissue paper and handed it over. I took it from her and, with a smile and a wave, left the market.

It was only when I got back to the room that the enormity of what I had done sunk in. Fifty bloody euros! That's a night's heavy drinking for the two of us! Had I really spent over forty quid for some cheap little necklace from a market stall? Wow, did she see me coming! All that gripping my wrist and looking deep into my eyes; that must have been some sort of hypnotism because I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. I felt such a complete and absolute fool; the epitome of the gullible tourist. I could only imagine the extent to which Andy would take the piss if he found out so, rather than admit what I had done, I wrapped the necklace up in the tissue paper it had been sold in and slipped it into the bottom of my bag.

And there it stayed, well, until we got home where, still feeling foolish, I got it out and looked at it. What a fool I had been. Pretty as it was, it was a woman's necklace and I would never wear it. As for giving it to my 'sweetheart', well, I simply didn't have one. All that woman's nonsense had been part of her sales blag. The blue would match my sweetheart's eyes. What complete and absolute bollocks! 

On the other hand I wasn't going to just throw it away. I wrapped it back up in the tissue paper and put it in my sock draw. 

**********

And I completely forgot about it until a Sunday, several months later and with my holiday tan long faded, I was finishing off the ironing and putting away the clean laundry. Andy was slobbed out in the lounge reading the sports pages. As I folded my boxers and paired up my socks I noticed the pink tissue paper at the bottom of the draw. On a whim I fetched it out, held it up and looked at it. Whether or not it was worth the fifty euros I wouldn't like to say but it was really pretty. I went over to the mirror and held it up against me and, as I did so, a voice at the back of my head whispered 'put it on! Put it on!'

I undid the clasp, slipped it around my neck and, click, refastened it.

As soon as the clasp was fastened I felt dizzy, my head spun and I had to put my hand on the dressing table to steady myself. Even so my legs gave way beneath me and I slumped to the floor. I tried to cry out but my throat was to dry. Andy! Help! Andy! But the words wouldn't come and, anyway, he was in the other room, deep in the football reports and oblivious to what was happening. Meanwhile I was on my hands and knees, panting, trying to catch my breath, trying to calm down, trying to get past the overwhelming feeling of panic.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over and the panic started to subside. I was left on my hands and knees feeling... feeling... feeling not exactly wrong but very different. My head felt heavy and my chest... my whole body... my hands! What had happened to my hands? They were smaller, more delicate and my nails were long and almond shaped. I knelt up to look closer and, as I did so, I brushed my hair away from my face. My hair! What the fuck! How had my hair grown so long so fast? Confused and more than a little frightened I knelt up farther until I could see over the edge of the dressing table and there, in the mirror, a blonde female face stared back.

The face in the mirror opened its mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed. Through the unreality of it all I realised that it was me that was screaming but that didn't make it any better and I just screamed some more. I was still screaming at the mirror when the door burst open and Andy rushed in. Feeling like I had been rescued I turned to face him.

"Who.... Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Tom?"

"Andy, thank god you're here. It's me, I'm Tom."

"What? You're not Tom. You're a girl. Where is he? What have you done with him and who the bloody hell are you."

"I am Tom. Please, Andy, you have to believe me I just put on this necklace...," and then it occurred to me. I reached up behind my neck, reached under the mass of hair I found there, found the clasp of the necklace and undid it. The dizzy feeling started again and this time it was Andy who was screaming. I was too busy going through whatever it was that was happening to me to make any noise at all. For a minute or so I just crouched on the floor until, once again, the dizziness stopped.

"Tom! What the fuck! It is you! How on earth did you do that? You scared the crap out of me."

"Andy, believe me, you're not the only one around here who's scared. I had no idea that was going to happen. I have no idea how it happened. I've no idea exactly what did happen. I just put on the necklace and suddenly I'm... I'm what? I didn't really get to look but as far as I can gather I was... no, that's impossible... when I looked in the mirror... Andy, what the fuck happened?"

"You're asking me what happened. How should I know? I hear some girl screaming, burst in and there she is, screaming her head off and then it all goes wobbly and, suddenly, this girl has turned into my mate Tom. Beyond that I haven't a clue."

"So I really was a woman."

"Well, you weren't Tom Roberts, that's for certain."

"What do we do now?"

"Who's this 'we', paleface? OK, OK, joking aside, this all started when you put the necklace on and stopped when you took it off again?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"So it's all down to the necklace. Where the fuck did you get it?"

We went through to the lounge and, while he made us both coffees I told him all about the Albufeira market, the strange stall and how I bought the necklace. 

"So the long and short of it is that you bought a magic necklace from a little old lady at a street market in Albufeira. What do you think this is; a tacky internet story or something?"

"That's what happened. I'd be lying if I told you otherwise."

"And this is the first time you've worn it since we were out there?"

"It's the first time I've worn it ever."

"Well, I've got a whole bundle of questions. Firstly is the necklace going to make you change every time you put it on or was it just a one-time thing? Secondly, does it just work for you? What will happen if I try it on? Thirdly, did you really become a woman? I mean...."

"I was too busy panicking to do a complete gynaecological exam but I'm pretty sure I had tits. As for down there...."

"So why don't we kill two birds with one stone. You put the necklace on and that will show whether or not you change every time and, if you do change, then we can check out your lady bits."

"The only person checking out my lady bits will be me, thank you very much. Anyway, why don't we check out your lady bits?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you try putting the necklace on then we will see if it works on you and, if it does, then we can check you out for lady bits."

"You're just scared to try it again."

"Too right I am. As for you, you're just scared to try it at all."

"No I'm not. Here, pass it over."

I handed it over to him and he tried to put it on. He's such a clutz that he couldn't work the clasp so I came over, stood behind him and fastened it for him.

Nothing, nada, niente, fuck all.

"Well, that answers that question," Andy replied gleefully making a big thing of peering down the front of his jeans. "The full nine inches, all present and correct. Now, let's see if it still works for you."

"Nine inches! In your dreams, mate, in your dreams," but there was no denying that the necklace had had no effect on him whatsoever.

He could no more undo the clasp than he could do it up so, again, I had to step in and help. I unclipped it from his neck and held it in my hand. He was right. The obvious thing was for me to try it again but I was more than a little uncertain about what I was getting myself into. 

"Maybe we should leave it... try another time."

"Looks like you forgot to regrow your balls after that last change," Andy jeered. "Come on. You know you want to really."

"It's all very well for you. You haven't been through it."

"Does it hurt?"

"No...."

"So where's the problem? Anyway, it won't be as scary this time as you'll be expecting it."

"OK, but this time I'm doing it sitting down." 

I got myself comfy on the sofa and, with a sense of 'here goes nothing' put the necklace on. Immediately the dizzy feeling started and I slumped forward. I felt so dizzy I couldn't stay upright. I slipped sideways and started to fall off the sofa so Andy came over, put his arms around my shoulders and helped me down until, once again, I was on all fours. For all that, Andy was right, it was easier this time. It was still strange and disorientating but at least I sort of knew what was going on so I was in less of a panic. Even so all I could do was shut my eyes and wait for the dizziness to stop. 

When my head cleared Andy helped me to my feet and, for the first time, I could really take in what had happened to me. Firstly we had confirmed that the necklace only worked on me and, secondly, we had confirmed that it worked every time I put it on. As for the lady bits, well although I seemed to have shrunk and my clothes were hanging off me like rags there was still enough of a bulge in my sweatshirt to suggest that the weight I could feel there was not my normal shape. As for downstairs, I pulled the front of my jeans forward; I seemed to have lost a good few inches around the waist so there was quite a gap. However, all I could see was my boxer shorts. I slipped my hand down and it there was definitely something missing. Forget nine inches, I couldn't even find one.

"Come on then, let's have a look."

"Fuck off."

"But...."

"I said fuck off. The only person getting to see my lady bits is me. Now, excuse me a moment."

I gripped the front of my jeans to stop them from falling down but, even so, they were far too long and I had to sort of shuffle towards my bedroom. To Andy's annoyance, although he tried to follow me, I closed the door with him on the outside.

Once there I stood in front of the dressing table mirror and lifted up my sweatshirt. Yes, there was no doubt about it, I was now the proud possessor of a fine pair of breasts. They weren't exactly enormous but they weren't two fried eggs on an ironing board either. One thing was certain, I'd found as I shuffled towards my room that, unrestrained, they swayed about alarmingly and, for the first time in my life, I understood why women wear bras.

But above the waist was only part of the story and a pretty secondary part at that. My jeans were so loose that I didn't even need to undo them. I just needed to give my hips a little wiggle as I pushed my jeans and boxers past my hips.

I shouldn't have been surprised, let alone shocked, but even in the restricted view from the mirror I could tell that I did, indeed, have lady parts. I reached down and felt about with my fingers. So very, very different from having a prick. I mean, for a man, the prick is what it's all about; everything else is secondary. But now, although I knew I had a clitoris in there somewhere, it wasn't like that. With a prick you just grab it and start stroking; with this lot.... I tried poking about with my finger but that was simply uncomfortable and, to be blunt, I hadn't got a clue where to start.

Jesus, I'd been a woman for all of two minutes and already I'm trying to play with myself. Surely there's more to things than that.

I was broken from my reverie by a knocking on the door.

"Tom! Tom! Are you all right in there?"

"I'm fine, Andy."

"Well, if you've finished examining your lady bits then come on out. I haven't had a chance to look at you properly."

"Just coming."

But what to wear? The clothes I was wearing before the transformation were far too big. Everythign else I owned would, naturally, be the same general size. What I needed was something I could gather in. I grabbed an old track suit and, by pulling the drawstring as tight as it would go, managed to get it to stay up without being held. Furthermore, the elasticated ankles stopped it from dragging on the floor. I tried a few tee shirts but, although they came down to my knees, they were far too tight across the chest and it was far, far too easy to see that I wasn't wearing a bra. I might as well be wearing nothing. The trackie top was a bit big but, heck, it wasn't as if I was going to be seen by anyone other than Andy. I still felt rather sheepish as I made my way back out into the lounge.

"OK? Everything where it ought to be?"

"Well, I'm no expert but everything looks as it should so far."

"Tits and everything?"

"Tits and everything," I confirmed.

"Wow! I still don't believe this."

"You don't believe it? I don't believe it and I'm the one walking around with the tits and everything."

"So let's have a proper look at you. No, I don't mean it like that. I just.... It's weird having my best mate as a girl."


The Blue Necklace Ch. 01



"Not as weird as actually being one," I replied but I did stand in the middle of the room and do a little twirl for him.

"You're not so bad, you know."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, seriously. I mean, you look like a little girl trying on daddy's tracksuit but with the right clothing...."

"Yeah, but I haven't got the right clothing. In case you hadn't noticed nothing of mine fits any more."

"Yeah, I was thinking that. How tall are... were... are you? Five eight? Five nine?"

"How tall am I as a man, you mean? I'm five foot ten and a little over eleven stone."

"And what are you now?"

"How should I know? Get a tape measure and we'll find out."

Andy had me stand against the door frame, and, after putting a book on my head, he put a light pencil mark in the paintwork. Then he used the tape measure from his tool kit and announced that I was now five foot two inches. Then we trooped into the bathroom and found the scales. They were as dead as a dodo so we had to find a fresh battery but, after that, I got on and found I was now eight stone seven in the track suit. I brushed aside Andy's suggestion that I should weigh myself naked to get a more accurate figure. The only reason he suggested it was an attempt to get my kit off. 

"So, what do we do now?" Andy asked.

"I'm not sure." And I wasn't. 

"Fancy a shag?"

"Andy!"

"What? Look, here I am sitting here with a great looking bird who I know is naked under that rather loose tracksuit and I wouldn't be male if I didn't want to shag her."

"If you're going to be like that then I'm changing back."

"If you're going to be like that then you might as well. Dammit, Tom, this is really exciting and so far we've done nothing but measure your height and weight. There's no point in changing if all you're going to do is hide away in the flat all the time. Why don't we go out somewhere?"

"Because I haven't got any clothes, dummo! I might, just, get away with this trackie but I've no shoes that fit and, seriously I need a bra."

"Look, how about this. I'll nip down to Tescos and get you some clothes which don't matter too much about the size. A smaller tracksuit and some flip-flops maybe. I come back here, you get changed and then we can go proper clothes shopping. Hey, you know how you girls love clothes shopping!"

"I am not a girl!"

"You're doing a pretty good impression."

I couldn't help it, I leapt on him. I wasn't thinking. It was just the sort of friendly tussling that was part and parcel of the way we interacted. Of course, when I was a guy, we were pretty well matched. He's bigger and heavier but I was fitter and more nimble. As a girl I didn't stand a chance and, in no time, he had me pinned to the floor, straddling my waist and leaning on my shoulders. I felt small and vulnerable, no match for his strength. However, there were certain other things I was feeling that were far more worrying.

For a moment Andy looked down at me and there was something in his eyes that was deeply unsettling and then....

"Jesus, Tom! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to..." Andy leapt up off me. "I'm sorry, really sorry. Have I hurt you?"

"No, it's OK. Look, it was my fault. I started it," I replied as he helped me up off the floor.

"Yeah, and as guy Tom I'd have whipped your arse. But like this... as girl Tom, that's different. I'm sorry. I'd never hurt you on purpose, you know that, don't you."

"Don't worry about it." However, he wasn't the only one who was flustered and I needed some time alone. "Look, why don't we try your suggestion? You nip to Tescos, get me some clothes and we'll take it from there."



The Blue Necklace Ch. 02



This isn't so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits. Some chapters, like this one, don't have any sex in them at all. Well, that is unless you find transgender stories sexy per se.

so, if you're looking for hot action look elsewhere. If you want a light, and I think sexy, TG story give it a go

Oh, and this is chapter 2. If you haven't read chapter 1 then it won't be as good.

Enjoy

*******

I think Andy needed the space as well because he could hardly get out of the flat quick enough. Rather aimlessly I toddled off back to my bedroom. Now I was alone I could have a really good look at myself. I stripped off the tracksuit and stood in front of the mirror on my dressing table. It wasn't full length or anything I had to move around a bit and step back to get me all in. I don't wish to sound vain but whatever magic was in play wasn't too bad. Oh, I was never going to be a top fashion model or anything stupid like that but I was kinda pretty in a sort of girl next door sort of way. I had long blonde hair which cascaded down to my shoulder blades, curves in all the right places and a pretty perky pair of breasts that again, were not the biggest ever but were nice and firm and suited me fine.

It wasn't just that my body looked different; it felt different. It wasn't just that I was eight inches shorter and forty pounds lighter; I was soft where I used to be firm and curvy where I used to be straight. Fundamental things like walking were simply not the same. My hips were wider and my breasts seemed to jiggle about and, as for my hair, my long flowing locks made even the slightest movement of my head completely different. All these paled into insignificance compared to the change between my legs; reaching down and finding nothing there was the strangest thing ever. I was so used to having a prick to grab and now... I wasn't completely innocent but I had much to learn about exactly what was 'down there'. My knowledge so far had been limited to school biology text books and fumbles in the dark. I felt in need of an owner's manual. However, all that would have to wait.

Because, if I were going to be buying clothes for real, then the first thing I would need to know was exactly what size I was. I mean, as a man I knew I was a thirty two inch waist, a thirty one inch inside leg and a fifteen inch collar for shirts. I hadn't got a clue what I was now beyond the fact that I had lost seven or eight inches in height. I fired up my tablet and did a quick google to find out what measurements I needed. Andy's steel tape measure from his tool kit was fine for measuring my height against the door frame but it was too inflexible for measuring around my waist, hips and breasts. I went to the kitchen and rummaged around in the dross draw where I was sure there was a dressmaker's tape measure that would do perfectly. 

I went back to my room and found a bit of paper and started to jot things down. When I tried to match this up with the dress size charts on the internet it wasn't as straightforward as I had assumed it would be. Why, for example, are US sizes completely different from British sizes? Surely their women are basically the same shape. And then there are European sizes which are a whole different ball game. From what I could gather I was somewhere between a six and an eight in British dress sizes, two to four in US sizes and thirty four to thirty six European. As it was I had only just got my 34, 26, 34 measurements written down when I heard the front door opening. I threw my old track suit back on and went to see what Andy had got me.

"Here, this is the best I could do," he announced throwing some shopping bags down on the sofa. 

I suppose it could have been worse. He'd bought me a sweatshirt top in bright pink with some sort of sparkly pattern which, while loose, was nowhere like as big as my male ones. For below the waist there was a tartan skirt which, when measured against me, came to just above the knees.

"What the fuck, Andy! A skirt! Have you forgotten I have no underwear."

"As if I could! There are some panties in there as well," he said archly. "You've got no idea how much of a pervert I felt buying those. Thank god for self-service checkouts. I had to get you a skirt. I looked at leggings or jeans but I've no idea how long your legs are."

"And by buying me a skirt I guess you get to find out."

"There is that," Andy admitted. "Go on. I went through the embarrassment of buying this stuff. The least you could do is try it on."

"OK, but if I'm not happy then I take off the necklace and this little game ends. Got that. Now, stay there."

I took the bags into my bedroom and closed the door. To tell the truth, given how much was done on guesswork, he hadn't done too badly. In the bag I found not one but three packs of panties, each plain white cotton and each in different sizes. I stripped off my tracksuit and opened the pack that matched my thirty four inch hips. When I pulled them on they felt strangely snug. After all, I was used to having a prick and balls to organise. These panties had no room for male bits and, for once, I had no male bits to need room for. I glanced in the mirror. Somehow wearing just panties is sexier than being completely naked and the sexy young woman in the mirror was me! Weird or what? I wouldn't admit it to Andy but I was actually beginning to enjoy this game of dressing up.

The skirt had an adjustable and elasticated waist so there was no problem getting it to fit. The problem was how it left me feeling. When I had measured it against me I had misjudged where the waistline was and, now that it was on, it came to mid-thigh and barely covered anything. Whilst the rational me knew that the skirt was perfectly normal and really not that daring I felt open and exposed, as if the slightest movement would have me flashing my panties. My panties! A quick wave of panic flushed through me as I came to appreciate what I had just said. Maybe it would be better once I had put a top on. I reached for the sweatshirt. Why had he chosen such a vivid shade of pink? I slipped it over my head and, after undergoing the novel experience of having to extract my hair from the neck hole, once again, looked in the mirror.

The sparkly pattern, now that I could see it, read 'Girly' in big swirly letters. Gee, thanks Andy, just what I wanted. In fact it, along with the skirt, made a rather sweet and girly outfit even if the pink did clash awfully with the red of the tartan. It wasn't what I would have chosen and it was a bit too much like being thrown in the deep end, but, as I swung my hips and watched the skirt flounce around, I had to admit it was rather pretty. I had two choices. I could cop out, take off the necklace and wait for another time or I could bite the bullet and get on with it. 

"Come on, Tom. Time's getting on," Andy shouted through the door.

I reached for my sweatshirt and was just about to remove it before my curiosity overcame my fear. I pulled it back down, pulled my skirt down as far as it would go, and headed for the door.

"Wow! You look...."

"I look what?"

"Well, kind of sexy, actually. Has anybody told you you've got great legs?"

"Never you mind about my legs, great or otherwise. Come on, let's do this before I change my mind and bottle out."

I slipped on the flip-flops and, together, we went down stairs and out to where Andy's car was waiting.

If the skirt had felt short in the flat that was nothing to how it felt out on the street. There was a slight breeze blowing and, although the reality was probably very different, it felt as if my skirt were flying up around my waist, showing everything I had. Even walking made it fly around alarmingly.

But that was nothing compared to getting into Andy's car, a manoeuvre that seemed custom designed to expose as much leg as possible. Andy, of course, was loving every minute but I was blushing beetroot. There must be an elegant and dignified way to get in and out of a car wearing a short skirt but I couldn't find it. When I finally got in I sat in the seat with my knees welded together and my hands either side of my thighs holding the skirt down flat. I had never felt so exposed.

"Seatbelt," Andy reminded me. "Here, let me do it for you." He started to reach across.

"No thanks. You just keep your hands to yourself, thank you very much." I reached for the belt which, when fastened ran diagonally across my chest bisecting my breasts. Yet another reminder that I was a very different shape.

When we got to the mall I told Andy that I wasn't getting out of the car until he had found a quiet corner in the multi-story car park and, even then, he had to get out and turn his back before I would make a move. As I had rightly anticipated, getting out was even less dignified than getting in and the last thing I wanted was an audience. When I had finally extracted myself from the car I told Andy he could turn around and, together, we made our way into the heart of the mall accompanied by the sound of my flip-flops slapping on the floor. First stop was a pair of shoes and to hell with Andy's pervy fantasies of six inch heels. A plain pair of white trainers would do nicely.

As we made our way through the mall I felt as if everyone was staring at me. It was a warm and sunny day and there were plenty of other girls in similarly short and revealing skirts but, as far as I was concerned, none seemed quite as short as the one I was wearing. What's more, I was becoming convinced that all and sundry could tell I wasn't wearing a bra. I could almost hear them whispering 'slut' behind my back. Nervously I followed Andy as he headed towards Shoemart, our first port of call.

Shoemart was relatively easy. It's one of those budget shoe shops where the shoes are all out there and you basically help yourself. Shoesize was not one of the measurements I had taken so we simply measured the shoes against my feet until we found one close enough and then tried a couple more until we got an exact fit. I also bought a couple of pairs of trainer socks and, doing the old 'don't wrap them, I'll wear them' routine, I was properly shod as we walked out of Shoemart and into the body of the mall.

Next we tried Primark. OK, still not exactly top of the range but our budget wasn't that big and we were simply trying to get me started. However, Primark is where it all started to go wrong. If I had been shopping for boy Tom then it would have been easy. A pair of jeans, a tee shirt with a suitably ironic slogan, maybe something a little smarter for the office and job's a good'un. Shopping for girl Tom was a whole different kettle of fish. I'd never really looked round the women's departments before and now that I was forced to I was bewildered by the range of options. I simply didn't know where to start. OK, so a bra was top of the shopping list and I'd worked out the correct size but, even then, there were so many different shapes and materials. Andy kept pushing me towards black lacy confections but I thought they looked tarty. I kept looking at plain white cotton while Andy moaned about them being boring. 

Meanwhile the place was heaving and you couldn't hear yourself think. I was getting more and more flustered until I finally turned to Andy.

"I've got to get out of here."

"But we haven't bought anything."

"And we're not going to. Not today. Please, Andy, let's go and find a coffee."

I think he must have picked up on how uncomfortable I felt as he didn't demur and, together, we went and found a Starbucks. We ordered a couple or lattes, found a sofa to sit on and took stock.

"Look, Andy, this is all very well but I can't do this. I don't know what I'm after. I never knew clothes shopping was so complicated."

"So what? We go back home and forget this ever happened? Come on Tom, this is too big to walk away from."

"I'm not walking away. It's just.... Look, I need help. Real girls have had a lifetime to get used to this. I've had five minutes. I don't know what to buy. I don't even know where to start looking. And then there's the whole make-up thing. I don't suppose you noticed but I must have been the only girl there without some sort of make-up. If I'm going to do this I want to do it right. I'm scared I'll become some sort of freak show."

"I'll help."

"But you can't. You don't know anything more about being a girl than I do. I need a girl friend."

"I've been saying that for years."

"For Pete's sake, Andy, be serious for a moment. I need a friend who's a girl, not a girlfriend. Someone I can trust. Someone who can show me the ropes, sort of thing."

"A woman you can trust; that's a tall order."

"Don't be so sexist. Anyway, I was thinking of asking Jenny Eccles."

"Jenny Eccles! That ball breaker."

"Just because she turned you down flat."

"The only reason she didn't turn you down as well is that you never asked."

"She's all right, Jenny. She was a good friend when Gran died."

"She still didn't let you shag her."

"There's more to life than shagging. Anyway, I'm going to give her a call."

"Do you still have her number?"

"Well, I've got the number she had when we were at college and, if not, I've kept in touch via Facebook. But I can't phone her like this. I'll have to change back again. I'll call her when we get home."

"So, home time?"

"I guess so."

We finished our lattes and, after discovering that sofas are almost as bad as car seats when wearing a short skirt, we headed back to the car.

As we drove home I felt a bit of a failure. What had I managed? Five minutes in the mall before my nerve broke. Oh, sure, there was the whole clothes thing but it seemed such a waste. For all my nerves, for all my anxiety, I didn't want it to end so soon.

"Andy.... Can we go to the park?"

"The park?"

"Yeah. Let's go and feed the ducks."

"You're mad, you know that."

But, even so, we drove to the park and, after repeating the indignities of getting out of a car in a short skirt, we set off to stroll around the boating lake.

Whereas the shopping mall had been mayhem and I had felt awkward and embarrassed, out in the park was... fun. There was no other word for it. Suddenly the short skirt was liberating. I could feel the air circulating and, as the sun beat down, it felt good to be out. We didn't feed the ducks but we did stop for an ice cream and, as we strolled along together, licking our cones, I felt a contentment that had been otherwise missing. Boy Tom would never have done this but girl Tom, she was loving every minute. It was almost as if we were a proper couple and I had a strange desire to reach out and hold his hand but I was scared Andy would misinterpret. Even so, by the time we had returned to the car I felt better than I had done in ages.

"Thanks, Andy, that was lovely," I said as I got back in the car.

"No problem," Andy replied and he looked a little bashful. Had he enjoyed walking in the park as much as I had? 



The Blue Necklace Ch. 03



This is not a sex story so much as a love story with sexy bits. Indeed, if you don't get turned on by body swap stories you might not find it sexy at all.

Oh, and this is chapter three. If you haven't read from the start, really, it's better that way.

Enjoy

******

Chapter Three: Jenny Eccles

When we got back I went into my room, stripped off and got down on my hands and knees ready to take off the necklace. The dizziness came and went and it wasn't long before I was back as a guy, kneeling on the floor, still a little breathless and checking between my thighs that everything was in order. When I had fully recovered and was putting away my girl clothes in the wardrobe I felt a little twinge of regret. After the initial shock and disorientation I had quite enjoyed being a girl. In particular the walk in the park had been lovely. It was hard to pin down the difference but if boy Tom had suggested a walk in the park with Andy it would have been rejected out of hand but for girl Tom, that was fine. I pushed this whimsy to one side, dug out my phone and dialled Jenny's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Jenny? Jenny Eccles? This is Tom, Tom Roberts, from college, remember?"

"Tom! Wow, long time and all that. I haven't see you since graduation. What's up? Why the call."

"I need a favour. It's a bit of a delicate matter."

"Ooh, now you've got me. I love delicate matters. Come along, tell Jenny everything."

"There's the problem. I can't tell you over the phone. It's got to be face to face and, more than that, it's got to be somewhere private."

"And why me?"

"Because.... Because back in college you were my closest female friend, the only one I could really talk to. Because of all the women I know you're the one I trust the most."

"Oh, Tom, that's really sweet of you but can't you give me a teensy clue what this is all about?"

"I really can't. I know this is a lot to ask but I really can't tell you anything until we're face to face and in private."

"Umm.... Look, I'm not trying to be funny but does it have to be just me. How about I bring my boyfriend along."

"No! No men! Sorry, didn't mean to snap like that but, if you have to bring a friend it has to be another woman. When you see what I've got to show you you'll understand."

"So, let's get this straight. A guy I used to know in college, a guy I used to be good friends with but haven't spoken to in ages, rings me up out of the blue and wants to meet somewhere in private but he won't tell me why and insists that I don't bring my boyfriend. Why on earth should I agree?"

"You're right. You shouldn't. I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Hang on, hang on. I didn't say I wouldn't. Do you know, of all the guys in our year you're the one who didn't make a pass at me. You're gay, aren't you? This has something to do with being gay, doesn't it?"

"Not exactly...."

"Not exactly means yes. OK, you've got me. I'll be your fag hag. When do you want to do this."

"Soon as possible. In fact the sooner the better."

"That urgent, eh?"

"It is a bit."

"Well, I'm not doing anything tonight. Do you still live in Melchester?"

"Yes."

"In that case, how about meeting up in the Flying Horse at seven. Do you know the Flying Horse, the one on Bishop Street? You can buy me dinner while you tell me all about it. Yeah, I know you said somewhere private but if you want to do this then you're going to have to play by my rules and my rules say that we start with the Flying Horse. If, and it's a big if, I feel safe then we can go back to my place after we've eaten."

And so it was that, come seven o'clock, we met up at the Flying Horse. It's more of a chain than a gastro-pub but the meals are edible and reasonably priced. As we ate we caught up with old times. When I told her I lived with Andy she commented that she knew I was gay and laughed at my protestations.

With the meal done she looked at me long and hard and I could see her weighing things up. Apparently I passed the test because she agreed that we could go back to her house which turned out to be just around the corner. As we walked there she kept her hand in the pocket of her jacket and I could see she still didn't entirely trust me but she let me in and, together, we went into her front room.

"OK, now you've got me in private, tell me about this big mystery," she said as she closed the door. 

"I can't tell you, I'll have to show you but, before I do, please, you have to promise that you won't freak out."

"Have I ever been the sort that freaks out?"

"No, and that's part of the reason I chose you but this is a bit extreme. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Just don't panic. OK. I've no idea what this looks like from the outside but, here goes." I slipped off my jacket and laid it on a chair. Then I took the necklace from my jeans pocket and put it around my neck and, for the third time that day, I went through the transformation.

I don't know if it was that I was getting used to it or whether it was actually getting easier but each change was far less traumatic than the previous one. Sure, there was still the dizziness and sure, I still ended up on all fours on the floor but I recovered faster and it wasn't long before girl Tom was looking up at Jenny who was standing over me. She no longer had her hand in her pocket but it was out, holding a spray canister which was pointed directly at me.

"How the heck did you do that? You have ten seconds to tell me before I give you a face full of pepper spray! One false move and you get sprayed anyway."

"Please, Jenny! Don't do that. I don't know how I do it, I don't know even if I do it, please, Jenny, I really don't know."

"And you're still Tom?"

"Oh yes, very much so."

"You... you don't look like Tom."

"But I am. Really I am."

"Really.... OK, so where did we go the night your gran died?"

"The Lee Raj. The one down Squires Gate Road."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Jenny. Don't you remember? I needed somewhere quiet and it was the only place we could think of. We sat in a booth near the back and I cried my eyes out."

"It really is you! Wow! And this metamorphosis.... Do you just look like a girl or have you really...?"

"As far as I can tell I'm completely female. I mean completely female. And that's the point. I need help. I don't know how to be a woman. Everything is so... complicated."

"Well, the first thing you do as a woman is get up off the floor. It looks like I won't be needing this any more." She put the spray on the mantelpiece. "Now, tell me all about it."

And so I ran her through what had happened so far ending up with how the shopping trip had been such a disaster.

"How do you choose? There are so many styles I didn't know where to start."

"It depends what you want to look like. Why do you think we girls spend so much time looking at fashion magazines? We're trying to find a look we like and then we go out and buy it. Well, that's the idea, anyway. First of all, and this is a big question, who are we dressing, Tom or Tomasina?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, if we're dressing Tom, that's Tom in a woman's body, then you'll want to go for Tom's ideal and, from what I know of boys, that means it will be all about sex. High heels, short skirts, uplift bras the lot. Look at that skirt Andy got for you. He was thinking with his prick, not his brain. On the other hand, if we're dressing Tomasina we're going to have to find out who she is."

"I don't want sexy."

"Not at all?"

"I'm not ready. The first thing Andy suggested was that we shag, as he so elegantly put it. The boy part of me understands how he could want to but the girl part of me simply isn't ready."

"So there is a boy part of you?"

"Well, it's more like I can remember what it was like being a boy. When I'm like this I look like a girl, I feel like a girl and I think I think like a girl but I just don't know. It's all a bit confusing."

"So when you are 'ready' you will be ready for boys, not girls?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so. I'm a girl, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are. Good answer. Now stand up and let me have a look at you."

I got to my feet, my boy clothes, as ever, far too big and hanging off me. I had to put my hand to my waist to hold my jeans up as, guided by Jenny, I gave her a twirl.

"Hmm. I can't really see under all that clobber but it looks like we're not too far off the same size. Come on through and try on some of my stuff. That will give you an idea of what works and what doesn't."

I followed her through to her bedroom and sat on the bed while she rummaged in her wardrobe. "Here, try this," she said passing back a hanger.

I looked at what she had passed me and it didn't seem to make a lot of sense.

"How do I...?"

She looked back and saw me looking gormless.

"You really haven't got a clue, have you? OK, first things first, you can't try on my clothes while you're still wearing all that boy stuff. Come on. If you're going to do this thing you have to do it properly." 

Even with Jenny being so matter of fact I was more than a trifle apprehensive. After all, this was going to be the first time that girl Tom had been naked in front of another human being. However, Jenny had that no nonsense look of hers and she was quite right, if she were going to help me I had to stop being such a prude. I stood up and peeled off my tee shirt. Below the waist my jeans were already falling down so I just encouraged them and, as I did so, I stepped out of my oversize shoes.

"And those," Jenny said, pointing at my boxers. "What's that look for. You've nothing I haven't seen before and, anyway, those boxers really don't fit you anymore."

I took off my boxers and, whilst at it, slipped off my socks which left me standing feeling as naked and exposed as I have ever done. I stood nervously, one arm across my groin, the other across my breasts.

"It's all right for some," Jenny said, eyeing me up and down. "I wish I had a magic necklace that made me that good looking. And that hair! It's gorgeous. I see you're blonde downstairs as well. However, you might want to consider trimming a bit before you wear a bikini."

"Jenny!"

"What? If you're going to go all coy on me then this really isn't going to work. Here, try these and you'll see what I mean."

She rummaged in a draw and pulled out a pair of panties in powder blue lace. I slipped them on and they fitted just fine. Jenny was right; we were close enough in size to share clothes.

"Now look in the mirror and check it out."

Unlike my meagre dressing table mirror, Jenny had a proper full length one and I went and stood in front of it. I could see what she meant; there were, indeed, a few stray wisps of hair escaping, but that wasn't what struck me. This was the first time I had got to see myself properly in a full length mirror; this first time I could appreciate the full effect. What's more, the panties that Jenny had picked out were just the thing. Pretty, feminine, sexy but not tarty. I struck a few poses, looking at myself from different angles.

"You are a lucky cow, you know. Most girls would give just about anything for a body like yours and all you have to do is put on a necklace."

"You don't think my tits are a bit small."

"No. They're just right. And I'll tell you this for free, non of my bras are going to fit you. Now come on, Tomasina, let's find your look."

"Yeah, sure," I agreed, still not turning away from the mirror, "but, Jenny, I don't think I'm Tomasina, it's too much like my boy name. I think I'm more... Tiffany."

"OK, Tiff, whatever you say. Now let's try this top on you."

She helped me on with the top. It had an empire waist with flowing lines flaring over the hips. The halter top cupped and held my breasts while leaving most of my shoulders exposed.

"And below the waist?" I queried, as I once again looked in the mirror.

"Jeans? Leggings? It's up to you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I've got some Lycra leggings you can try."

And so we did. And that was just the start of it. Jenny passed me item after item and I'm not sure there was much left in her wardrobe untouched by the time we had finished. Somewhere along the way she broke out a bottle of wine and we had a right good girly evening, laughing, having fun, trying on her clothes. I was beginning to appreciate something that, as a boy, I never had. How the choice of clothes completely changed the woman wearing them. We were, of course, limited by what Jenny owned but one moment I was relaxed and casual, the next a sex kitten, then next all businesslike, the next very student. And it wasn't just how I looked; it changed how I felt, how I was. 

"And last, but by no means least, every girl needs an LBD."

"LBD?"

"A little black dress. Here, see how this fits."

Like a glove, that's how it fitted. Well, not physically. Jenny and I weren't quite the same shape and it was a bit tight around the bust but, in terms of look, it fitted me fine. Mid-thigh to show off my legs, tight and clingy around my torso and a strapless top with a sweetheart neckline that put the goods right in the shop window. Altogether sleek and slinky but never, ever, cheap. I looked, and felt, a million dollars. It just needed....

"Heels, Jenny, please tell me you've got heels to match!"

Of course she did. Three inch stiletto courts in black patent. Her feet were maybe a size or so larger than mine which made them a bit too loose but, style wise, they were perfect. Well, until I tried to go anywhere.

"How on earth do you walk in these?" I asked, reaching out for support.

"It takes practice. Take small steps, swing your hips, walk on the balls of your feet. There you go. Not quite ready for the catwalk but you'll get there."

Once again I looked in the mirror. Oh boy! The shoes made my legs seem to go on forever and my blonde hair cascading down made the perfect contrast with the stark black of the dress. Even the necklace looked perfect; a small and simple statement breaking up my bare shoulders.

"I must have one of these! Plus all the bits. When can I...."

"Steady on. The first thing you need is the occasion. After all, you can't wear something like this round the shops."

"That's a point. Oh, Jenny, I got so carried away. Thank you, thank you so much. I've had a ball."

"So have I. Now, I don't want to be a bore but it's getting late. I'll leave you alone as you change back; I'm not that keen on seeing Tom naked if you don't mind. All you have to do is take off the necklace, right."

"That's right but, Jen.... can I be really cheeky and ask for a loan."

"That depends."

"Well, you won't want these panties back until they've been through a wash and the blue dress, the...," I struggled to find the words to describe a knee length A line dress with the puffy sleeves that I had tried earlier so I fetched it out of her wardrobe.

"That one? That's the one you want. I can't see any reason why you can't borrow it but I'm a bit curious as to why that one. It's nothing special. What's it got that the others haven't?"

"This will sound crazy but, until we go shopping and I get my own stuff I've got nothing to wear when I'm lounging around in the house and this dress, well, it's nice and girly and not too fussy and formal."

"I am going to want it back."

"Of course. As soon as I've got my own wardrobe. And the shopping bit, are you OK with that?"

"Just try and stop me. Next Saturday; I can hardly wait."

"If only I had some shoes."

"What do you mean."

"If I had some shoes then I could wear the dress home."

"Try these," she handed me a pair of kitten heel court shoes in white patent leather. "They're too small for me so they might just be OK for you and the heels are low enough to be perfect for a starter like you."

"Are you sure you don't mind."

"The shoes, no, keep them. As I said, they're too small for me. Bought in a moment of madness so they're just gathering dust. As for the dress, make sure you remember it's a loan not a gift."

"Thank you, Jen, thank you. I don't know how I'd have managed without you."

"That's OK. We girls have got to stick together."

"And you won't tell anyone."

"Who would believe me? Now go, it's getting late."

I changed out of the LBD and into the blue dress and then we bundled Tom's clothes into a carrier bag and I bid Jen a fond farewell. On the way out we exchanged kisses. Not on the lips, on the cheeks, but even so, I'd finally got to kiss Jenny Eccles. The strange thing was that it didn't mean anything. No, that's not right, it meant lots, lots to Tiff, but it was a kiss of friendship and, quite frankly, the Tom part of me still hadn't kissed her.

What with the pint in the Flying Horse and the bottle of wine I'd shared with Jen it was a good job I was on the bus and not driving. I'm not sure if Tiff could drive anyway. Sure, I still had the skills but what if I got stopped, or worse still, involved in an accident. Tiff had no driver's licence and no insurance. How could she?

But I didn't mind the bus. It was a warm night and I felt so special, walking through the streets feeling the freedom of a dress rather than jeans and listening to the click, click, click of my heels on the pavement. 

When I got to the stop there was only ten minutes to wait until the next bus. I stood there in a half dream, thinking over all the outfits I had tried on. I'd had so much fun finding the different 'me's, using the clothes to emphasise different aspects of my personality. I was still away with the fairies when a guy of around my age came up and stood beside me. Of course, there was no reason why he shouldn't; after all, he was probably just waiting for the bus as well but, suddenly, I wished I had Jen's pepper spray to hand. What if... what if....

I kept myself to myself and tried to ignore him but I could feel his eyes on me. I just knew he was looking me over and, what's more, I knew he was wondering what was underneath the dress. Could he tell I wasn't wearing a bra? If so what did that make him think I was 'easy'. He wasn't a big guy and Tom would have had no problem at all but Tiff, she's smaller and weaker. If he tried anything....

I'd worked myself up in to a right tizwas when, at last, the bus arrived. I got on, paid my fare, and chose a seat as near to the driver as possible. Naturally the guy got on as well and he chose a seat not far from me. 

'He's just a guy,' I told myself. 'What's more, if Tom were travelling on a late night bus and saw a pretty girl he'd be looking her over.' Now that the boot was on the other foot it was a very different matter and I was all too eager to get myself back home. Millions of women all over the world travel on public transport late at night and not all of them get raped but that didn't stop me worrying. 

When we finally got to my stop I stood up and, briefly, our eyes met and he gave me a rather nervous smile. I'd almost certainly misjudged him. Poor lad. He was probably as nice as they come and not in the least bit a rapist. Didn't stop me looking away quickly and heading for the exit.

"Hi, honey, I'm home!" I called out jokingly as I entered the flat and saw Andy ensconced on the sofa deep in some action movie.

"Hi... Wow! Tom! You look lovely."

"Hi Andy. It's not Tom. Well, it is and it isn't. Once I change back I'll be Tom but, like this, I've decided I'm Tiffany. Tiff for short."

"Tiffany. That's nice. Really pretty. So I gather your date with Jenny Eccles went well."

"It wasn't a date."

"And there was me imagining all sorts of hot girl-on-girl action."

"You keep your imagination to yourself. Better still, stop imagining."

"'Till I get to see you naked that's all I've got, imagination."

"As you're never going to get to see me naked that's all you'll ever have. Got me?"




The Blue Necklace Ch. 03



"OK, OK, keep your hair on. I'm half way through the Bourne Identity. Care to join me."

"Thanks. I'll grab a cuppa and be with you in a second."

I went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. The empty pizza box on the table, along with the plate covered in pizza crusts, told me what Andy had had to eat. Bloody men. When will they learn to keep the place tidy. I ended up doing a quick whip round while the kettle boiled. Dammit, I'll be acting as his personal servant next and, if he had his way, I'd be trussed up like a turkey in one of those French maid outfits. Not gonna happen, Andy, don't even dream it.

The kettle boiled, I made myself a cuppa and went to join Andy on the sofa. I kicked off my shoes and curled my feet up under me. The Bourne Identity is not my favourite movie but it will do and there was something just right about watching it with Andy, curled up on the sofa. I had the urge to snuggle up to him but... talk about wrong messages.

When the film ended I took myself off to bed. Big question. I had to revert back to Tom at some point but when? Obviously I would have to go to work as Tom but should I change now or wait until the morning. Common sense said now but, what the hell. I found an old tee shirt to use as a night dress and putting on my dressing gown I headed for the bathroom.

Peeing, now there's a thing. With no prick to point with and... I should have asked Jen about it. Still, there was now only one way to find out. I sat down on the toilet and let it flow. Turned out there was nothing to it. However, unlike peeing as a guy, I had to wipe afterwards. Why does being a woman have to be so complicated.

I washed my hands and brushed my teeth, vaguely wondering whether I was brushing boy Tom's teeth as well and then, ablutions done, headed off to bed. What a day I'd had! What a day!



The Blue Necklace Ch. 04



This is not so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits and, even then, it's not very sexy unless you're one of those who dig the whole transgender thing.

So, don't go looking here for cheap thrills, you won't find any.

What is more, this is chapter four. If you haven't started at the beginning I strongly advise it. 

*****

I lay in bed but I wasn't yet ready for sleep. After the high drama of the day I was finally in a position to quietly contemplate the sheer magnitude of what had happened to me. I assumed I was not the only guy to wonder what it was like to be a girl; now I had the chance to find out. What is more, given the opportunity, I felt so much more comfortable as Tiffany than as Tom. Maybe it was the novelty; maybe as time wore on I would become blasé, bored, and never want to change again but, right now, I couldn't get enough of it.

I lay on my back, pulled up the tee shirt that was acting as a nightgown and looked at how my breasts lay. Years of cartoons and video games had totally misled me as to what they would look like. They weren't loose or floppy but neither were they unaffected by gravity. This was real flesh, yielding, tender, female flesh. When I was standing they took the classic tear drop shape; now I was lying down they flattened out, became rounder, gentler. But then they weren't the only part of my body that felt strange. Every part of me seemed to be subtly different. Whilst Tiffany was just as fit as Tom she was nowhere near as muscular; she was softer and I delighted in the touch of my skin under my fingertips. 

If I'd have been Tom at this point my hand would have gone straight to my prick and I would be pumping away furiously as I headed towards another frantic orgasm. For Tiffany, although my groin and nipples were super sensitive and felt delicious to the touch, they were only part of a larger picture. They were like the cherries in an ice-cream sundae; to be sure, they were the best bits but they were far from the complete picture and who wants to eat cherries all on their own. It was as if all of me was sexual or none of me was and, at that point, all of me was. I stroked, teased and titillated enjoying the smorgasbord of sensations. 

But, for all that, I knew that I wasn't going to come. There seemed to be some trick to female masturbation that I had yet to learn. I wasn't exactly frustrated, the low level buzz was plenty to be going on with, but I was more than aware that this was not the full story. Gently tiredness overcame me and I drifted off to sleep.

I could feel his lips as kiss after kiss after kiss covered my shoulders, my neck, my upper arms. He lay over me, not crushing but protecting, his weight a comfort not a burden. I was his in every sense of the word. Down below I could feel his strength, feel the heat of his passion and, in time, I wanted to savour every inch of it but not yet, lover, not yet. Soon, very soon, but not yet.

His kisses moved to my breasts and his teeth teased at my nipples causing little golden threads to tingle through my body, exciting me, awaking me, arousing me. Oh, yes, lover, like that, like that! I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, grinding us together. I want to feel him closer still, conjoined, as one. I'm nearly ready, lover, nearly.

He reaches down and guides himself towards me. He's pushing, pushing, pushing and I open up and welcome him. He slips inside, just a bit, just the tip, withdraws and then, this time, he's deeper, deeper, he's filling me, completing me, taking me, fulfilling me. Please, lover, just a little more, just a little, just a bit more, take me, hold me, make me whole...

With a start I awoke from the dream. I put my hand between my thighs and found that I was wet with my juices and my lips were inflamed and oh, so sensitive. I tried so hard to remember how it felt but the dream, as all dreams do, faded away and all I was left with was the sense of what might have been.

Anyway, my fingers, even if I knew what to do, could never take the place of my dream lover. I ached, not for an orgasm, but to feel his warmth, his strength, his passion and, when the time is right, to surrender to his power.

On a more practical note, whereas Tom had had his fair share of conquests, Tiffany was nowhere near ready for any sort of relationship, let alone sex. I had too much to learn before I would trust myself to get that intimate with anyone. That didn't stop me wanting it.

I rolled over and went back to sleep. Maybe I would dream again.

I awoke to my alarm on my mobile feeling curiously refreshed given my broken night's sleep. It was Monday morning and, inevitably, it was time to get up, get dressed and go to work. What's more, it was time to change back and become Tom again. I got out of bed, knelt down on the floor and took off the necklace.

As I went through my morning routine everything felt a little flat. There was no earthy reason why life should feel better, more fulfilling, when I was Tiffany rather than Thomas. Maybe it was simply the novelty; maybe it was simply Monday morning blues. Still, there was rent to be paid so money had to be earned and that meant going to work spending the day sorting out misdirected office supplies. I couldn't put it off any longer; it was time to tidy away the breakfast things, grab my coat and leave. As an after thought, before I headed for the door, I threw all my female clothes into the washing machine and put them on a wool cycle.

I found it really hard to concentrate at work. Sure, paperwork came in and paperwork went out and, as I didn't get more than the usual number of complaints, I guess it all got processed correctly but my mind wasn't on it and, come lunch time, I was looking through fashion blogs searching for a look that was 'me'. OK, so I had become a little obsessed but this was so big, so all encompassing; this was, quite literally, life changing.

And, on a completely different level, it was fun. I'd never really looked at fashion before. As a boy, why would I; none of the clothes were for me. Now, with a little imagination, I could see myself wearing the same clothes, looking like the women on the screen. 

Some of the clothes still left me feeling wistful. There was an ever so smart outfit in light grey; an A line knee length skirt with a matching jacket, classic white blouse and black patent leather heels that would be just the thing for the office. But with Tiffany having no paperwork, no legal identity, I couldn't see how she would get a job, open a bank account, rent a flat, do any of the things that are involved in a practical life. If it were only possible I'd have worn the necklace all the time but I was always going to have to revert to Tom who had to do the boring bits.

As soon as I got home I wanted to change back to Tiffany as soon as possible. However, my clothes were still wet so I shoved them into the tumble drier and, as Andy worked later hours than I did, I was able to get them dry and ironed well before he got home. As soon they were ready I was off to my room, my boy clothes were off, I put the necklace on and, bingo, Tiffany was back.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I just loved Jen's blue dress and along with the kitten heels, I felt so fine. Of course there were one or two issues. I hadn't started to address the whole make up thing and I still hadn't bought a bra. Mind you, as long as I wasn't planning on going out it really didn't matter too much.

I went back to the kitchen and put on an apron to protect the dress before starting in on the evening meal.

"God, the traffic in town gets wor.... Oh! Wow! Hi Tom, er... Tiffany."

"Hi Andy. Dinner in half an hour, OK?"

"Yeah, fine."

I turned and looked at him. He was looking me up and down.

"Yeah, I'm Tiff for the evening. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, no problem at all."

"And get that look out of your eye. Whatever you're thinking ain't gonna happen. Got me?"

"Got you. But a boy can dream, can't he?"

"Dream on, sunshine because dreams is all that will ever be. Now, get out of my kitchen."

As I shooed him out of the kitchen I was both exasperated and pleased: exasperated because his eyes had gone straight to my chest and stayed there and pleased because well, because his eyes had gone straight to my chest and stayed there. I returned to the stove with a flush to my face and not entirely in control of my emotions. Part of me was disgusted at him because, as ever, all he could think of was sex and part of me was thrilled to the core that it was me that he found sexy.

Not that I had any plans to do anything about it.

Over the meal it was more of the same. However, this time it went far beyond flattering and into the realms of annoying until, finally, I had to put my foot down.

"Please, Andy," I protested, "stop looking at my chest all the time. It's very off putting."

"I'll tell you what's off putting," Andy retorted. "Having you wandering around not wearing a bra. Sorry, Tiff, I don't mean to be rude but if your not going to restrain those little puppies then I'm going to stare. I can't help it."

"Andy!"

"What? I'm just telling it like it is."

"Did you have to be so...," and I burst into tears. "I'm going to change," I said, getting up from the table and storming off to my room.

I couldn't change back to Tom while wearing the dress. It was far too small for Tom and changing would result in some sort of Incredible Hulk type moment. However, maybe because of the state I was in, when I tried to take it off, I had problems with the zipper. It just didn't want to move. The worst of it was that Andy was right; I'd got so carried away with wanting to be Tiffany that I'd brushed aside the whole braless thing. No wonder the lad on the bus the previous evening had stared at me. Meanwhile the zipper seemed to have welded itself shut and I all but screamed in frustration.

"Tiffany... Tom... Are you all right in there," Andy called through the door. "Please, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Please, open the door."

"Go away!"

"Please, Tiff, come on out. I promise I won't stare any more."

The damn zipper seemed to have a mind of its own and was locked fast. And there, on the other side of the door, was Andy being so reasonable. My emotions seemed to be all over the shop. I didn't know what to think or what to do.

"Are you still there?"

"Of course I'm still here. Where else would I be?"

"And are you still Tiffany?"

"Yes, I'm still Tiffany."

"Please, Tiff, come out and finish your meal."

I opened my door a crack.

"And you won't stare?"

"Well, I'll try not to."

And there he was, Andy, with that goofy grin on his face. Andy who hasn't got a mean bone in his body. Andy who's the best friend I'll ever have. I opened the door.

"Come here," he said as he opened his arms and gathered me in for a great big hug. I seemed to fit so nicely against his body and, while I was still a tumult of conflicting emotions, right there I was safe. Good old Andy, my best friend ever. I could feel his heart beating; I could smell the subtle perfume of the shower gel he uses; I could feel his strength. I leant my head against his shoulder and everything seemed to just be better. He stroked my hair, gently, soothingly. I looked up at him and he looked down at me. There was a look in his eyes, a very different look from the one that stared at my breasts. His lips puckered up and....

"No, sorry, Andy, I can't, not yet." I squirmed out of his arms.

"Not yet?"

"Please, Andy, I don't want to hurt you. I'm... I'm not ready for that. It's too quick, it's too soon."

"Not yet?"

"I don't know, Andy, really, I don't. Maybe."

"I can live with maybe. Now come along, the meal is getting cold."

And with the crisis averted we returned to the dinner table.

That night I lay in bed thinking about the kiss that wasn't. What was it that I was so scared of. Well, there was the whole Tom and Andy thing. He was Tom's best mate, had been for years, and that made it a bit strange. But that wasn't it. It wasn't Tom who had shied away, it was Tiffany. She was the one who was scared of the kiss. But Andy had been so kind, so gentle, so caring; what was there to be scared of? 

But, when I thought back to how I had felt, to the pounding in my heart, to the way my whole body thrilled, to the way my lips ached to be kissed, to the way I just wanted to surrender, I knew exactly what I was scared of; it wasn't Andy, it was me.

As Tom I had been in control. Sure, I had known that there was something missing from my life, that there was a huge gap, a hole, an emptiness, but I had been in control. Now, as Tiffany, I was on this mad helter-skelter rushing headlong towards who knows what. I was the fledgling, tottering on the edge of the nest, wanting oh so much to fly but scared of plummeting to the hard, hard ground below. 

Not yet, Andy, not yet.

That set the pattern for the week. I alternated the blue dress with the tartan skirt and sweatshirt combo that Andy had bought me but, every day, as soon as I could, I would change back into Tiffany. 

On the Tuesday lunchtime I spent some time on YouTube and searched for videos on make-up for beginners. It all seemed so complicated but I got the basics. On the way home from work I stopped at Tescos and picked up some lipstick and eye shadow along with a make-up mirror. I would have gone to the chemists but Tescos have that self service checkout thing so I didn't have to explain my purchases to a cashier.

My first few attempts were disastrous. Well, they would have been fine if I'd wanted to look like Coco the Clown. I re-ran the videos and, by taking it slowly, managed to get results that weren't completely hideous. 

By Wednesday my hair needed washing. When I had first changed into Tiffany I had been presented with a body in perfect condition. Now, even though I wasn't spending all my time as her, I still needed to look after myself. I quite fancied going jogging as Tiffany but, until I bought myself a sports bra, that was out of the question. 

Actually washing my hair wasn't too much of a problem. I simply got under the shower as normal. However it was a far more sensuous than washing short hair and, for that matter, my wet hair was far heavier.

Drying it was another matter. Tom had no use for a hair dryer. Tiffany needed one rather urgently. Yet another thing to add to Saturday's shopping list.

On Thursday there was a good film on the telly which Andy and I decided to watch together. As ever we sat side by side on the sofa. Now Tom would have sat with his feet firmly on the ground but Tiff liked to sit with her feet curled up under her. It was because of this, and merely because of this, that I ended up snuggled up against Andy. Almost without thinking he put his arm around my shoulders and absent mindedly stroked my hair as, on screen, the hero and heroine resolved their differences and walked off into the sunset together.

At which point there was an awkward gap. It was so cosy, so perfect, that I could have sat there all night but I could feel that Andy wanted to take things further and I wasn't ready for that. I got up and went to make some hot drinks for us both.

"The Blackout are playing at the Student Union bar tomorrow. Do you fancy going?" Andy asked when I returned.

"Ooh, yes please!" We'd seen The Blackout several times. They're a high energy band of the sort that plays the student union circuit. They may not be heading for the big time but they're a load of fun to go and watch.

Andy got out his wallet and showed me the tickets.

"Well, I've got one ticket for me and... and one ticket for Tiffany."

"I've got to go as Tiffany?"

"That's the deal. Of course, if you don't want to, I could always ask Jane Parkinson."

"Jane Parkinson? That bitch! Why on earth would you ask her?"

"Because Tiffany won't go."

"But... but... you can't just watch The Blackout. You have to dance."

"Yeah."

"And I haven't got a bra yet. I haven't got the right outfit. Please, Andy, don't do this to me."

"You go as Tiffany or I ask Jane. End of."

"You bastard."

"That's me," Andy crowed rather smugly.

"And there's no way you'll let me go as Tom?"

"No way at all."

Jane bloody Parkinson. I knew Andy had a bit of a thing for her but if she thought she was going to get her hands on my ticket then she had another think coming. But there was more than the ticket I was concerned about. If Andy took Jane to the concert then pound to a penny he would bring her back and... and.... The thought of Jane in Andy's bed made my blood boil. 

"OK, I'll go."

"As Tiffany?"

"Yes, Andy, Tiffany will be your date tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"And Andy...."

"Yeah?"

"Jane Parkinson?"

"And why not?"

"You can do so much better than her, really you can."

"Oh yeah? Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Do I detect a teensy bit of jealousy?"

"Of that slag? Never!"

Andy just laughed.

That night I lay in bed seething. Jane bloody Parkinson. Why would Andy even think of taking her. OK, so she's pretty, if you like that sort of cheap trash look, and, OK, so she put out, but.... Please, Andy, you're better than that. 

But, if I were going to the concert then I would be dancing and, from what I knew already, there was no way I was dancing without a bra. I would flop around all over the place. But that brought me back to the problems I had had in Primark; what sort of bra was I going to get. Thinking it through I reckoned that if I was going to be doing vigorous action then I would need a bra that could cope so I'd be after a sports bra. I couldn't rest until I had this organised so I nipped out of bed and fired up my laptop. As luck would have it the Asda next to where I worked had them in stock and also had self service checkouts. Now I hadn't planned to go shopping until the Saturday when I was out with Jenny Eccles but needs must. With that put to rest I could finally get off to sleep.

The next day I nipped out to Asda during my lunch break and, when I got there it was pretty easy and, in the same aisle as the bras, there were some panties with a pretty pink floral pattern. The blue dress wouldn't be suitable for the concert so it was going to be the tartan mini-skirt and that meant that, if I were leaping around, there was a chance I would be showing my panties so I might as well make them something worth showing. Anyway the plain white cotton ones Andy had bought me were too boring and the ones I had borrowed off Jen were the wrong colour. 

I was doing fine until I got to the self service checkouts and the assistant that floats around making sure no one has any problems came over to see if I needed help. "No thank you, I'm fine," I replied nervously but there was no disguising what was in my basket. Pretty pink panties and a sports bra. Just what you'd expect a man in his twenties to be buying. Blushing furiously I just kept my head down and got on with it.

When I got changed that evening I found that the bra made a huge difference. It flattened me off a little but I was still very definitely female and, more importantly, I could dance and leap about to my heart's content. The pink sweatshirt and mini-skirt combo would also do fine for the student union. It was hardly the place for the height of fashion. On my feet I wore the trainers and, after just a touch of lipstick and eye shadow, I felt ready to go out and face the world.

Andy had decided to make a night of it so, before the show, we stopped for a pizza in town. I'm not sure what had come over him but he was the perfect gentleman and it sounds silly but he made me feel special. He had a pint of Peroni with the meal and, normally, I would have joined him but Tiffany was more of a glass of white wine sort of girl and, as they had a very respectable Pinot Grigio, that is what I had.




The Blue Necklace Ch. 04



The concert was fantastic. The music was loud and fast and I danced and danced and danced. Just because I was Tiffany didn't mean my tastes in music had changed and there's a natural high from dancing that's better than any drug.

It was the thick end of midnight when we got back to the flat. I was still as high as a kite from the music and gabbling fifteen to the dozen. Andy was just as high and, together, we were on cloud nine. We went into the front room and I couldn't help myself. I just went up to him and kissed him, right on the lips.

"Thank you, Andy, thank y..."

My thanks were cut short as he kissed me back. He was still hot and sweaty from the concert but that was just fine, so was I, and, as we melted together, we let all the animal emotion free. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in so tight and I just melted. Oh yes, oh, Andy, oh yes, oh!

I could feel the heat of his passion. Even through his jeans the extent to which he was aroused was more than clear. He was male, very male, and I was female. I could feel his hunger, I could feel his need, I could feel the full length of his desire.

And then the fear cut in. This was to much. I wasn't ready; I wasn't sure that I could handle it. If I didn't stop then... Oh, god, Andy, I'm sorry, so, so sorry. I want to, I really want to, but I'm just not ready. I turned my face away from him and buried it in his shoulder.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes, no, I don't know," I mumbled.

"We don't have to...."

"Thanks, Andy. I'm sorry but I can't do this, not yet."

"It's OK, really, it's OK."

"You should have gone with Jane Parkinson after all."

"I didn't want to go with Jane; I wanted to go with you, Tiffany, and I've had a great time. It's OK, I understand, really, I do."

I looked up at him and he looked down at me. I could read it all in his eyes. He really, really wanted to take me to bed, right there, right then, but he cared so much about me that all that really mattered was how I felt. I'm not sure how much he really understood but he wasn't going to push me. He was prepared to wait. That, of course, just made it worse. He was being so nice and I was being a bitch but I wasn't ready. I didn't want the first time to be like this.

"Thanks, Andy. I'm so, so sorry."

"There's no need to be. Thanks for being my girl tonight. I had a great time." He leaned forward and kissed me on the forehead. "Now, I think it's time for bed. Goodnight."



The Blue Necklace Ch. 05



Not so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits and, indeed, if you don't get off on the whole transgender thing then maybe this story is not for you.

Oh, and this is chapter five. If you haven't already read chapters one to four I urge you to do so

******

It was the crack of dawn when my mobile went off. Sleepily I pushed my hair away from my face, rolled over and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Good morning. This is your wake up call. It's nearly shopping time."

"Good grief, Jen, what time is it."

"Just gone seven thirty."

"Seven thirty! Do you know what time I got in last night?"

"No, but I expect you to tell me all about it over breakfast. I seem to remember that Tom was quite a competent cook. Why don't I come round and you can make us both a full English before we hit the shops."

"A full English? I'm not sure that I can stretch to that but I can do you a bacon barm or something similar."

"Great. I'll see you in half an hour. Bye!"

Half an hour! I hadn't meant for her to come so soon. I jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. The ravages of last night were all too plain upon me and I desperately needed a shower. I turned on the taps and jumped in.

As it was I had barely enough time to get clean, towel dry my hair and put on the blue dress before the front door bell rang and Jenny arrived. I led her through to the kitchen and started in on breakfast.

"Do I gather it was Tiffany I woke up this morning? It didn't sound like Tom."

"It was."

"So you sleep as Tiffany."

"I'd spend my whole life as Tiffany if I could. Obviously there are some things I can't do as her. Go to work, for example, or drive, because I don't have the paperwork but, otherwise... I just find I'm more comfortable as her. Andy and I went out last night which goes part way to explaining why I'm such a mess this morning."

"Where did you go?"

"To the student union bar. They had The Blackout on and they're one of my favourite bands. We had a ball."

"What did you wear?"

"The tartan mini and the pink sweatshirt. Not exactly perfect but better than nothing and I wasn't going to miss the gig."

"So, why didn't you go as Tom?"

"Andy wouldn't let me. He said that either I went as Tiffany or my ticket would go to Jane Parkinson instead. OK, maybe I didn't need that much persuasion but I was kinda forced."

"And by the looks of things you bought yourself a bra."

"I had to. If you go to see The Blackout then you're going to dance and dancing without a bra is a bit of a no-no. Apart from the discomfort I've found how much going braless sends off the wrong messages. Andy seems to have spent most of the past week staring at my chest. Talk of the devil..."

"Morning, Tiff. Morning, Jenny. Long time no see." Andy came over to the stove to look at what I was doing.

"Hi Andy. Tiff's been telling me about how you've been ogling her all week."

"Oi, Jenny, it's not like that! Tiff, tell her that's unfair!"

"He's been fine," I said as I tended to the bacon. "OK, he does ogle a bit but he's been really supportive."

"Make sure you stay that way."

"God, Jenny, give a guy a break, will you. Sexual harassment charges are a bit much before breakfast."

"He's been just fine," I repeated firmly as I surprised us all by turning from the stove and giving Andy a quick peck on the cheek. "Now sit down. Coffee and bacon barms are on their way."

"So, are you two hitting the shops," Andy asked as we sat together munching our barm cakes and drinking our coffee.

"That's the idea. Why, do you want to come with us?"

"I can think of nothing worse than going girly clothes shopping in town on a Saturday with two women. No way, no way at all."

"In which case you can do the washing up. Just because Tiff's a girl doesn't mean she has to wait on you hand and foot."

"OK, OK. I see you're still on that feminist bollocks."

"It's not bollocks and you know it, or at least you would if you weren't still the biggest male chauvinist pig in the sty. If you had your way poor Tiff here would be chained to the sink."

"That's not the only place I'd chain her.... oi! Stop! I was only joking!"

"Not funny, buster, not funny at all."

I smiled as I watched Jen and Andy squabbling. The thing was, each appealed to a different half of me. I admired Jen, I wanted to be a strong independent woman who knew her own mind and wasn't at some bloke's beck and call. But there was something else I wanted. There was that feeling when Andy wrapped his arms about me, when I felt cared for, pampered, loved. And, anyway, I liked looking after him.

After breakfast Jen came and joined me in my bedroom as I tried to sort out my hair. I'd purchased a hair brush but had yet to acquire a hair dryer and there was no way it was going to be dry in time to go to the shops. Jen advised me to try a pony tail and I discovered the wonders of 'scrunchies' after she lent me one that she had fished out from the bottom of her bag. With my hair now under control I put on some make up, not much, just the lightest touch of eye-shadow and a smidgen of lipstick. I was far from practiced but I wanted to try to do this properly. Once I had the war paint on it was time to go and we went down to the street where Jen had parked her Honda Civic.

"Your Andy, still as MCP as ever," Jenny joked as she drove us both down to the mall.

"He's a good man. Anyway, he's not 'my' Andy."

"Really. You two look pretty smitten with each other."

"We're just good friends. OK, there's no need to look at me like that but, think about it, Tom and Andy have been best mates since forever and, now that Tom has become Tiffany it doesn't stop us being friends. I know he's a bit old fashioned but he's really looked after me."

"As long as he gets a shag at the end of it?"

"And that's where you're wrong. Oh, he makes no secret that he fancies me like crazy but he's never laid a finger on me, well, not seriously."

"And what about you? Do you fancy him like crazy?"

"That's the hard bit. I mean, Tom, he never, ever, thought about Andy in that way. I know you think I'm in denial but when I was Tom I wasn't gay, really I wasn't, and the thought of us doing anything together... ugh! Tiffany, on the other hand.... well, I'm starting to look at Andy in different ways and he is pretty good looking and, yes, I do find him sexy but... Oh, Jen, I don't know what I think."

"You do realise you talk about Tom in the past tense, don't you?"

We drove on in silence as I digested this. I knew that I wasn't completely Tiffany, not by a long chalk. I still had to be Tom when I went to work and all my official papers were in Tom's name. What's more, what would my parent's think if Tom just disappeared off the face of the earth and this strange girl appeared in his place. No, Tom was always going to be part of my life and a very big one. On the other hand, as Jen had pointed out, I did rather see Tom as the past, not the future.

This time the mall could not have been more different. For starters I was properly dressed and I was also far more used to being out in public. It also helped that Jen was next to me. Andy is all very well but, for a shopping trip, especially a clothes shopping trip, you want a girl friend.

First order of business was underwear. I already knew about sports bras, I was, after all, wearing one, but Jen explained the difference between wired and not wired, uplift and support, seamed and unseamed and the other endless compromises between support, comfort, sexiness and suitability for the clothing that went over them.

"But why would a feminist like you want an uplift bra?" I asked.

"Just because I believe in equality between the sexes that doesn't stop me from wanting to look sexy and making the best of what nature has given me. Being a feminist is about making your own choices, not being dictated to. The important thing is to look sexy because you want to, not because someone else wants you to."

And then we were on to panties. Again there was a bewildering array of styles.

"Choose what feels best. After all, most of the time, no one but you is going to see them."

"If no one is going to see them then why not wear plain white cotton all the time?"

"Is that what you want to wear?"

"No but...."

"My point exactly. Who's going to see them is completely irrelevant, well, most of the time. Women, well, this woman, likes to wear pretty or sexy undies because of the way it makes me feel, not some man who may or may not get to see them. I find a nice set of undies makes me feel better and boosts my confidence. I bought a matching set in navy blue lace for my last job interview and I'm sure it helped me feel better about myself. Part of the fun is the way that you can suit yourself. Sometimes it's a plain white cotton day, sometimes it's a frilly and lacy day, sometimes it's a day for little pink hearts and flowers and the only person you have to please is yourself. Having said that, you will want a white bra under a white blouse unless you want the world to know all about it."

We had quite a range by the time we had finished. I did, indeed, get some plain white cotton for 'those' days of the month but, apart from that, I let my imagination run wild.

And with that out of the way we set off to put together some outfits. Top of my wish list was a replacement for the blue dress. Something light and casual, something I could wear around the house, something practical. A mid-thigh shirt dress with short puffy sleeves was just the thing, especially when matched with a wide leather belt to emphasise my waist. Furthermore, as Jen pointed out, as it buttoned down the front I could show as much cleavage as seemed appropriate to my mood at the time. After that, at Jen's insistence, I tried on some jeans and discovered that, for women, they're a very different animal. Oh, sure, there were boring 'normal' jeans available but the skinny jeans in stretch denim that Jen steered me towards had the added bonus of showing off my legs and, when matched with a tight tee shirt over a seamless bra all my curves were well on display.

I also wanted a nice dress to go out in. Nothing quite as formal as an LBD but something to wear on a night out, something with a bit of pazazz. I had to try on quite a few before we finally came upon a dress with a blouse style top in an animal print which combined with a knee length pencil skirt to be smart, stylish and just the thing for a smart night out.

At this point we both needed a breather so we grabbed a quick salad and a glass of white wine as a late lunch and while we ate we talked and talked and talked. I've no idea what we talked about. It really didn't seem to matter. 

And then it was back into the fray. I needed two things: tops to go with the jeans and shoes to go with everything. For the first time in my life I understood why women need so many shoes. I already had two pairs, the white trainers and the kitten heels that Jen had given me. For Tom this would have been more than enough but, for Tiffany, she needed a pair of sensible flats for everyday wear and a pair of heels for formal wear as an absolute minimum. What is more, Jen wouldn't allow me to go to Shoemarket; she insisted that I buy expensive shoes as they would last longer and be kinder on my feet.

The sensible flats were easy, well, they were until I found a pair with a sort of zebra print and just had to have them. Long story short I ended up with two pairs, one plain, one patterned. And then we were on to the heels. Again Jen was quite insistent, this time saying that, as a beginner, I shouldn't go over three inches until I had got the whole heels thing cracked. I must have tried on about every pair in the shop and, in the end, it came down to a choice between an open toed sandal and a basic court shoe, both stiletto, both in black leather. Each was perfect, each would have gone a dream with the night out dress, and each would have gone a dream with the skinny white jeans. 

So I had to have them both.

Finding suitable tops was much easier. There were plenty of tee shirts in varying styles and, whereas last time the choice had overwhelmed me, this time I felt like the child in the sweetshop. So many different tops, only one life time to wear them in!

At last, foot sore and weary, and with an enormous hole blasted in my credit card, we made our way back to the flat. Andy was at full stretch with his feet up on the sofa watching Soccer Saturday and, as it was nigh on five o'clock and the final results were coming in, he didn't pay us much attention. I made us all a cup of tea and then Jen and I went through to my bedroom. It was time to unpack the bags.

I had already already made some preparations by clearing out half my wardrobe and two of my drawers so there was plenty of space to put things away. However, we weren't going to just put things away, we also needed a fashion show. While I had obviously tried all the bits and pieces on in the shop I hadn't really had time to appreciate them. In particular I wanted to try out the smart dress when combined with the open toed sandals. First things first, a lacy black bra and panties combo. You can't wear a dress like that over white cotton.

Say it myself as shouldn't, it looked a treat. Jen pointed out that, if I were wearing open toed sandals then I would need my toenails painted and offered to do them for me using a bright mauve nail varnish that we had picked up when we had been to SuperDrug to stock up. With my toenails finished she moved on to my fingernails and I felt like the Queen of Sheeba as she pampered me.

While I sat there waiting for my nails to dry Jen brushed out my hair. Because I had had to let it dry naturally in the scrunchie it was pretty tangled and it took ages to get out all the knots. I joked to Jen that a short haircut would be far lower maintenance and she replied that she would kill me if I wore it any shorter. 

With my hair and nails sorted I put the shoes back on and tottered around the room. With Jen's coaching I started to get the hang of it and, while I wasn't completely graceful, I wasn't falling over either. I opened the door and went through to the lounge.

"What do you think?"

"Hang on, they're showing the Arsenal goal...," but, whether he wanted to watch or not, Andy looked up and, suddenly, the Arsenal goal was forgotten. "Wow! Tiff! You're gorgeous. I mean, you're always gorgeous but that dress...."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. You look good enough to eat. We've got to go out!"

"What? Now?"

"I'd love to but where? Anywhere worth going will be booked solid. We'll have to make it next weekend. I'll book a table at Fracini's, you know, the posh Italian in Chapel Street, and we'll make a night of it. Jenny, maybe you and your partner would like to come as well. The four of us celebrating the full transformation. Ugly duckling to the most beautiful swan in Melchester. Hang on, let me do this properly." He got up from the sofa and came over and stood in front of me. He reached out and took my hands. "Tiffany, it would give me great pleasure if you would do me the honour of being my partner at dinner on Friday night. Please say you'd come."

"I'd love to but on one condition."

"Name it."

"You have to dress up as well. I don't want to partner a complete slob."

"You wound me to my heart, Mistress," he joked. Then he looked across at Jen. "Please, Jenny, I meant it. Would you make up a foursome. My treat."

"I'll have to check with Patrick but, personally, I'd be delighted. I have to say one thing for Tiffany."

"What's that?"

"She's managed to turn you into quite the gentleman. I look forward to seeing if you can keep it up all evening." She blushed as she realised the double entendre and we all had a little laugh.

"Seriously, guys," she continued, "I've got to be off. It's been great Tiff. We must do it again soon. And Andy, I'll call you later to confirm next Friday."

I saw her to the door.

"Thanks, Jen. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Tom was a good friend of mine. I'm not sure if even fonder of Tiffany. Good night, Tiff. Have fun."

And with that she was gone.



The Blue Necklace Ch. 06



This is a love story with sexy bits - and not too many of those. Indeed, if you're not into the whole transgender thing then this story may not work for you.

What is more, this is chapter six. If you haven't read the other five then please do. It will be better that way

******

"I don't suppose that's the only outfit you bought," Andy asked when I returned to the lounge. "It's very smart and very sexy but not quite the thing for hitting the town on a Saturday night."

"Well, duh!"

"Don't 'well, duh' me, young lady." I stuck my tongue out at him for calling me 'young lady'. "If we're going out then you need to get changed first. You do fancy a night in town?"

"I'd love to but if you knew how much I'd spent today you'd realise why I can't. I'm completely broke and you wouldn't believe the state of my credit card. It looks like nights in front of the telly and a diet of beans on toast for the foreseeable future."

"Nights in front of the telly? Come on, you didn't buy all that clobber just to sit around the house. It's lucky for you that, tonight, I'm picking up the tab; you and me, babe, we're hitting the town."

"If you put it like that...." I hurried off to change. A pair of skinny jeans, a scoop necked top, the zebra patterned flats and this girl was ready to go out and party.

The best thing that can be said about that night is that, thanks to Andy, I got home safely. Right from the get go I had completely forgotten to allow for the fact that tolerance to alcohol is a combination of practice and, more importantly, body mass. Tiffany, when compared to Tom, had neither and was therefore vulnerable. I had a couple of glasses of white wine with the meal in the bistro and that was enough to make me squiffy. After that we hit the pubs and the clubs and, as the alcohol took away my inhibitions I danced and drank and drank and danced until.... 

My memories of the latter part of that evening are fractured at best and mostly accompanied by hot flushes of acute embarrassment. I hadn't been that drunk since my student days, possibly even then. I vaguely remember the taxi driver refusing to have me in his cab... the long, long walk home... Andy holding my hair back as... I'm too ashamed to recall it all. One thing is for certain, I wasn't pretty, or glamorous, or attractive. 

I was woken by the Sunday morning sunshine breaking through the crack in my curtains and landing on my face. I rolled over and groaned, my head thumping and my stomach growling. At least I seemed to have made it back to bed. Not that I had much recollection. Across my room my clothes were neatly folded over the back of my dressing table chair. I would never have left them like that. Oh my god! Andy!

A quick burst of panic washed through me until I realised that I was still wearing my panties. If Andy had been where he shouldn't then surely he would have removed them. A wave of guilt cut through the headache and nausea. Sweet caring Andy had put me to bed and, yes, he had undressed me but I knew in my heart that he hadn't, for one moment, taken advantage. I owed him a massive apology so I struggled out of bed, threw on my dressing gown, and stumbled through towards the kitchen. After a quick detour via the bathroom I made myself a much needed cup of coffee and took it through to the lounge where Andy was watching Match of the Day. Normally we round off Saturday night with this but it had been too late and we, or at least I, had been too drunk to watch when we got home.

"Good morning! How's the head."

"Don't ask."

"I think you had maybe one or two too many last night."

"One or two? That's understating it. Andy, seriously, thanks."

"Thanks? What on earth for?"

"For looking after me, for getting me home, for getting me to bed and... everything."

"Well, someone had to look after you."

"And, once again, that person was you. Thanks."

"No problem, no problem at all," Andy mumbled and I could see I was embarrassing him.

"Have they shown the Arsenal match yet?" I said, changing subjects.

"No, it's only just started."

"Mind if I join you?"

"It's your flat too."

I sat down on the sofa next to him and, without even thinking about it, snuggled up to him. He put his arm around my shoulders and, together, we watched the highlights of the previous day's footie.

I guess this was just what I needed because, by the time Alan Hanson and Mark Lawrenson had finished their overblown analysis, I was feeling a lot better. I also realised that my dressing gown had gaped open and I was giving Andy an eyeful. However, he had seen far more than that the previous evening and, if he was looking, he was far too much of a gentleman to let me catch him at it.

With the footie over I went to take a much needed shower and, above all, brush my teeth. A session with the hair dryer, another of the previous day's purchases, got my shaggy mane back under control and I got dressed in comfortable underwear, skinny jeans and the pink sweatshirt. This left me feeling something approaching human and ready to face the rest of the day. I went back out to the lounge.

"How about I cook us some lunch and then I've still got some shopping to do."

"More clothes shopping? I thought your card was maxed out. That's how you got me to pay for all last night's drinking."

"It's not clothes and, yes, my plastic is pretty damaged but I still need a full length mirror. I was thinking of hitting that flea market they've set up in the old mill. There are plenty of second hand shops; I don't think I can afford new. The thing is...."

"What's the thing?"

"Getting a full length mirror in my car will be quite a squeeze. Can we go in yours?"

"We?"

"Oh, come on, it will be fun and I promise no clothes shopping." 

"I guess I've nothing else to do this afternoon."

"Thanks, Andy, you're a sweetie," and I gave him a little kiss to show how much I appreciated him.

So it was that, an hour or so later, we were wandering around together, wondering at the junk that some people expect others to pay money for. The thing was that we were having fun. I know for a certainty that I was but, more importantly, Andy kept humming to himself, always a sign that he's in a good mood. At one point I suddenly realised that we were walking hand in hand. What is more, it felt right. I remembered Jenny saying we were smitten with each other. I still wasn't convinced about 'smitten'; I just knew he was comfortable to be around. 

We finally tracked down the mirror at the back of a stall with a collection of appalling junk. We dug it out and set it up so that we could look at it properly. There in the glass stood two people whose whole body language spoke of togetherness and I rather liked what I was looking at. Andy caught me looking and we shared a smile. The stall owner wanted fifteen quid but we finally got him down to a fiver. With the deal done I went to lift it but, as soon as I tried, Andy stepped in and took it from me. What is more, once we got back, he also insisted that it was him who carried it inside. Much as I appreciated his chivalry I was also a little miffed. Hey, Andy, it's OK, the mirror is made of glass, not me.

Sunday evening was spent together on the sofa watching telly. Once again I had snuggled into him almost before I knew what I was doing. The thing is, it felt so comfy in the crook of his arm and he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he ended up stroking my hair which was really nice. In the end, though, it was time for bed. We both had work in the morning.

The week ahead followed pretty much the pattern of the previous one. I would wake up as Tiffany, go through the change and do my normal morning routine as Tom. My working day was spent as Tom but, as soon as I returned home, I would change back and spend the rest of the day as Tiff. 

I was fast learning that, although I had been given body in near perfect condition, it was now up to me to look after it. That didn't mean that I didn't still have Tom's body to look after as well and I was quickly finding that the two were totally separate. It would have been lovely to have changed into Tom, washed and dried my relatively short hair, and then changed back to Tiffany to find her long locks washed and dried. No such luck. Similarly, although I had spent the whole weekend as Tiff, Tom's beard had still grown and, come Monday morning, he still had two days' worth of stubble to shave off. 

And this wasn't limited to just basic hygiene. I found out that Tiffany's shaven armpits needed regular maintenance. My nail varnish also needed redoing and, although removing the old as easy enough, I didn't have the steady hand that Jen did when it came to reapplying. I cheated a bit with my toenails in that I asked Andy to do them for me. We sat on the sofa and I put my feet on his lap. Did I feel something stirring in the undergrowth? Still, at least he enjoyed it as much as I did.

And that, of course, raised the thorny issue of the sexual attraction between us. Right from the start Andy had made it more than clear that he had the hots for Tiffany. Did I reciprocate? At that point I was too scared of the whole sex thing to answer. Oh, there was no denying that I felt good when he was around and that, when he put his arms around me, it sent shivers up and down my spine. However, the thought of actually doing the deed, of having him invade my still mostly unexplored 'lady bits', of letting myself get that close to him, was more than I could contemplate.

That wasn't to say that I was sexless. I was still having 'those' dreams and they were getting increasingly intense. What is more, although, and I'll stress this again, Tom never had any physical attraction to Andy, when Tiffany had bumped into him wearing only his boxers she had fully appreciated the view and had speculated at length about the bulge between his legs.

But it wasn't Andy's physical attributes that got to me. It was his slow smile, his infectious sense of humour, the way he slipped his arm around my shoulders, the way he made me feel cared for, the way he looked after me, the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't looking. 

And then, come Wednesday and we'd been out to a pub quiz with Jenny and Patrick. It had been a great evening and the four of us had had a right laugh. OK, so we had both had a couple of pints, just a couple in my case, I had surely learnt my lesson there, but that was neither here nor there. What's more, we'd been holding hands under the table; silly really but nice, very nice. We had just got back and were together in the kitchen doing last minute bits and pieces when he just put his arms around me, pulled me into him and kissed me.

Oh, Andy!

I felt weak at the knees and, if he hadn't been holding me, I would have fallen. I kissed him back, just as urgently, feeling the thrill run through my body. Every nerve seemed to tingle and my body cried out for his touch. I felt his hand slip under my tee shirt, a little rough but that's the way I wanted it. He pulled me tighter, closer and, through our clothes, I felt the full extent of his passion.

And then it all went wrong. I couldn't help it. I started to panic. I wanted to continue but I was too scared, scared of letting go, scared of surrendering. Andy, like this, was such a force, a force I couldn't control, a force that threatened to overwhelm me. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, it was more like I didn't trust me. This was all careering out of control. If I didn't stop now then...

Just like last time I squirmed away.

"I'm sorry, Andy, I'm just not rea...."

"Not ready! Seems to me you're never bloody ready. Come on, Tiff, can't you see what you're doing to me? All I want to do is kiss you; is that seriously so wrong?"

"But you want more than that; we both want more than that. It won't stop at kissing and, I'm sorry, but I'm not ready for what comes next. Please, Andy, I know I'm being a bitch but if you could just see it from my side."

"See it from your side. That's all I ever do. How about you trying to see it from my side."

"It's not that simple. Ever since I became a woman...."

"Became a woman! That's half the problem. You're neither one thing nor t'other. A woman wouldn't come on to me like you do and then keep pushing me away. I wish you'd never bought that necklace. It's brought us nothing but trouble."

"Andy! You don't mean that!"

"Bloody well do. I'm pissed off with all this. I want my friend Tom back; I could rely on him. Tiff, you're a great girl, really you are but... you're a ball busting bitch; do you know that? Fuck it, I'm off to bed." He stomped away and I heard his bedroom door slam with an awful finality.

I stood there, tears streaming down my face, wondering why had it gone so wrong, wondering why Andy was being so unreasonable. Wearily I took myself off to bed.

When I got to my room I was in turmoil. Ball busting bitch, was that really what I had become? Didn't he realise how hard this all was for me? But, as I cooled down, I began to appreciate that I was blowing a bit hot and cold and there was no denying how much I had hurt Andy. He said a woman wouldn't have pushed him away. Well, maybe she would but not after encouraging him so much. I'd been having so much fun as Tiff that I hadn't really appreciated it from his side. I wasn't prepared to go as far as to say he was right but I could see how living with Tiff was more trouble than it was worth. He'd been kind and generous and giving and what had I given back in return?

On the other hand, what he seemed to want was more than I was prepared to give. Why did it always have to come down to sex? He was right about one thing. Life was a hell of a lot easier when I was Tom. 

The more I thought about it the more I realised I'd just been being selfish. I'd been having so much fun as Tiffany that I hadn't thought through all the ramifications. I'd ended up putting Andy in an impossible situation, dangling myself before him while not being prepared to go the last mile. 

I could only see one answer; I had to stop indulging myself. Tiffany could go on hold for a while, possibly forever. For the sake of my friendship with Andy, if nothing else, it was time to go back to being Tom.

I got undressed and, before I got into bed, I changed back. For the first time in over a week I slept the night as Tom. I won't say it was better but it was safer. The necklace, and Tiffany, could stay safely locked away; it was fun while it lasted but in the end it was too much trouble. Maybe it simply wasn't meant to be.



The Blue Necklace Ch. 07



This isn't so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits. If you're looking for hot action look elsewhere. On the other hand, if the idea of transgender body swap appeals then read on.

Oh, and this is chapter seven. If you haven't read the others then you really should.

Enjoy

*********

The next day, when I returned home from work, it did feel a little strange not bothering to change. However, I'd made up my mind. The necklace could stay locked away in its drawer. I'd had enough. Andy had said he wanted his friend Tom back and that suited me just fine. It was too complicated being Tiff. I'd be better off returning to the certainties of being Tom. 

When Andy got home I was busy working in the kitchen. He came on through and, although he must have noticed that I hadn't changed, he didn't say a thing. The atmosphere was a bit strained and awkward but nothing two old friends like Andy and Tom couldn't handle. It was better this way, easier, safer, just friends. 

Andy was washing up the dinner dishes and I was tidying away when my mobile went. I immediately saw that it was Jenny and my heart sank. Still, I had to answer it.

"Hi, Jen, it's Tom."

"Tom? What's up? Where's Tiffany?"

"It's a bit complicated. I've decided not to be Tiffany anymore."

"Why on earth not?"

"I can't explain over the phone."

"In which case you can bloody well explain it to me face to face. I'll see you... no, sod that, I'm coming over."

"Jen, stop, Jen!" but the phone was dead.

Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang. I went to answer it and there she was. I took her through to the lounge where Andy was sat watching telly.

"Hi Andy, do you mind if I take Tom off your hands for the evening."

"Be my guest. It's no skin off my nose."

"Come along Tom, let's find a pub. We've got things to discuss."

She led me down to her car and we drove round the corner to the Eagle and Child. I found a table while Jen went and got two pints of Bods from the bar. This felt wrong but I wasn't going to argue gender politics with Jen, not that night anyway.

"OK, what the fuck is going on with you and Tiffany."

"I told you, I've decided not to be Tiffany any more."

"That's bollocks and you know it. What's the problem?"

"It's complicated."

"Don't give me that 'it's complicated' nonsense. Come on, Tom, tell Auntie Jen."

"We had a row."

"And by 'we' I assume you mean that you've had a row with Andy, the guy you're so not totally besotted with. What happened?"

"We were kissing and... and... I had to stop."

"You had to stop?"

"Jen, I can't cope. I'm not sure Tom can explain this to you but he was very... male."

"Very male?"

"I could feel his... thing through his jeans."

"His thing! For heaven's sake, Tom, this isn't the playground. So, let's get this straight. Andy kissed you. Did you kiss him back?"

"Yes."

"And then he got an erection?"

"Yes."

"Did he force himself on you? Did he try and rape you?"

"Jen! Andy would never do a thing like that! I know you think he's a male chauvinist pig but that's just because you don't know him. He's not like that, really he's not!"

"OK, OK, keep your hair on. I was just making sure. So, what, you asked him to stop?"

"I pushed him away."

"And..."

"And he got all grumpy and called me a ball busting bitch."

"I bet he did. He wasn't too far off the mark, either. Please, Tom, think of what you're doing or, rather, think of what Tiff is doing. Andy loves you, really loves you. Any fool can see that. And you were all over him in the pub. Don't think I didn't see you holding hands. Poor thing. No wonder he's upset."

"So, what, I should have let him have his way?"

"I'm not saying that but the longer you keep him dangling the more you'll hurt him."

"But that's why I've stopped being Tiff. If I'm not Tiff then I'm not keeping him dangling."

"Bollocks! You've stopped being Tiff because you're scared, scared of your own feelings. You love him and you're too scared to admit it."

"Love him! I most certainly do not."

Jen just looked at me.

"But... but... if Tiffany loves him then what about Tom? I can't be Tiffany all the time, even if I wanted to. I have to be Tom to work, to drive, in front of my parents. And what if Tiff gets pregnant? How the fuck would that work? It's all too complicated."

"Excuses, excuses, excuses. You're just making up excuses because you're scared of taking the plunge."

"Do you know how big this is for me?"

"What, falling in love? That's big for everybody. What makes you think you're so special?"

"I thought you were my friend; I thought you would understand."

"Maybe I am. Maybe I do. What you mean is that I'm not letting you off the hook. You need to take a good long look in the mirror and think about what is what. Now drink up. It's time we got you back home."

We drove back to the flat and Jen insisted on coming in with me. 

"Hi Andy. I just popped in to confirm arrangements for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, big night out at Francini's. You have booked a table, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but...."

"Patrick and I are really looking forward to it. A bit of a posh do, make it special."

"I'm not sure if...."

"Course you are. Right then, Patrick and I will see you and Tiff at seven thirty in the Blue Boar for pre-dinner drinks. Wasn't that the plan?"

"That's right, but Tiff...."

"Yeah, you and Tiff. I seem to remember this was all about celebrating her metamorphosis."

"But...."

"But me no buts. I'll see you tomorrow. Can't wait to see Tiff in that dress of hers."

And with that she was gone.

"I tried to stop her," Andy said to me looking hopeless.

"She always was unstoppable," I replied with a laugh. "Looks like we're going."

"Looks like Tiff is going," Andy corrected me. 

"Andy.... I'm...." I wanted to say that I was sorry but I couldn't find the words.

"Yeah, I'm... as well," Andy mimicked my long pause. "Now sit down and shut the fuck up. This is that new BBC3 comedy we both wanted to check out."

I flopped down on the sofa next to him but Tom, unlike Tiff, kept his distance. 

The next evening I was home from work as soon as possible. If I was going to Francini's as Tiff then I wanted to make sure I was the absolute best I could be. I went through the change and took a long hot shower taking extra care on all the little details. I spent special attention to my hair, drying it gently but thoroughly and brushing it until it flowed. 

Next up was my choice of undies. I chose a set in black lace. High leg panties and a half cup push-up bra that did wonders for my breasts. Then, with painstaking care, I put on my make-up. Plucked eyebrows to enhance the definition, just the lightest of foundation, a touch of eye shadow and a subtle lipstick. I didn't want to look the painted lady but even the prettiest girl benefits from a little touching up. I redid my nail varnish; my toes were fine but my fingers needed work. 

I could hear Andy pacing. It was nearly time to go. Still, you can't hurry perfection and that was what I was after. My finger nails seemed to take forever to dry but eventually they were ready. I stepped into the dress and, after a certain amount of gymnastics, did up the zipper. I could, of course, have asked Andy for help but I wasn't ready for him, not yet.

I slipped on my high heeled court shoes and stood in front of the mirror. Not bad, not bad at all. 'Ready, girl, it's show time!' I stepped out of my room and into the hall only to be instantly spotted by Andy.

"About bloody time too.... Wow! Tiff! You look better than ever."

"Thanks, Andy. You look pretty good yourself."

And he had made the effort. I always knew he scrubbed up well but this was the first chance I had had to appreciate it as a woman. He looked good enough to eat and, when he offered me his arm, I was proud to be walking out beside him.

A short cab ride took us to the Blue Boar where we found Jen and Patrick. They too had made the effort to look smart and the four of us looked just so. More importantly we were getting along fine. There were still some unresolved issues between Andy and myself but those were soon forgotten. 

Come eight o'clock we trotted across the road to Francini's. Andy held my arm as we crossed the road and opened the door for me when we got there. I'm not sure what Jen made of such gestures but I loved it. And then, when we got to the table, Andy held my chair for me. I felt like a million dollars. 

Good food, good company, who could ask for more. We laughed, we talked, we ate, we drank, we reminisced, we enjoyed each other's company. Andy, in particular, was just wonderful. Witty, attentive, thoughtful, caring, everything I could ask for and then so much more. 

All too soon the evening was over and we were the only ones left in the restaurant. We'd have stayed all night but Ricardo, the Maitre D', was politely but firmly easing us out of the door. Once out of the restaurant we bid a fond farewell to Jen and Patrick who were heading home in the opposite direction. However, I wasn't ready for the evening to end so, at my suggestion, we took a little walk through the park. Andy was concerned about me walking that far in heels but I had got the hang of them and it wasn't too bad. The park was perfect. The main walkways are well lit and it's serenely quiet at that time of night. There's a little bridge across the river and there we stopped, just standing side by side.

"Andy, about last night, would you really prefer it if I stayed as Tom?" I asked.

"Not really."

"But Tiffany's a ball busting bitch."

"Yeah, but she's my ball busting bitch, isn't she?"

"You know I am."

"Well, that's all right then."

And this time I kissed him. Just the lightest peck but on the lips. I could feel that I was playing with fire, that a kiss might not be enough but there, in the soft glow of the streetlights, it was perfect.

And, when he kissed me back, it was even better.

There, in the park, on a warm summer's night, while we were just as ardent, it was all a lot more gentle. Maybe it was because we both knew that we couldn't take it any further, not there, not out in the open. It meant that the passion was held back a notch and we could take our time. That didn't mean I didn't want to take it further. I was ready to stop being scared. I had a hunger, a hunger for Andy.

"I think I need you to take me home," I whispered in his ear after a while.

"I think I need that as well."

We broke from the kiss and, almost running, made our way out of the park and over to the nearest cab rank. Fortunately a taxi was waiting there and, five minutes later, we were pulling up at the flat. We'd hardly got through the door and we were in another clinch.

"It's got a zip down the back," I whispered to Andy as I felt his hands roving over my back. 

"Are you sure?"

"Never more so."

Because we weren't willing to break the clinch it was quite a struggle to get me out of my dress without letting go of each other more than was completely necessary. Meanwhile I was working at the buttons of his shirt, at the waistband of his trousers and, together, still shedding clothes, we tottered into his room. 

He was strong, he was gentle, he was insistent, he was considerate but most of all he was overwhelming. I felt small and fragile in his arms but that was fine because he treated me as the most precious thing ever. Together our bodies flowed, getting closer, closer. He felt enormous and I had a little flicker of fear but, when he approached, he was gentleness itself.

"I love you, Tiff," I could feel the tip against my flesh.

"I love you too," I pushed back, gently, just a bit. I was scared but I wanted more.

And then he took me. There is no other word for it. I opened up for him and he took me, body and soul. I couldn't help thinking of Annie's Song. Oh, he filled up my senses and then some. We moved together, our bodies as one as we climbed towards that pinnacle of pleasure. My flesh, my whole body, sang with delight as, conjoined, we could feel the explosion nearing. Yes, Andy, yes! Take me, make me yours, forever and ever and ever and...

Oh, Andy!

Everything went into overload as he flooded me with his love.

Oh, Andy!

I hung on tighter than I have ever hung on before, pulling him into me, feeling every inch, every part, every bit.

Oh Andy!

And, as it subsided, we lay there together, closer than I could ever have imagined.

I felt a tinge of regret as he slipped out of me and rolled to one side. I snuggled into his waiting arms, more replete, more satisfied than I had ever felt before. Andy looked at me and I looked back, kissed the tip of his nose and, together, we shared a giggle. It really doesn't get any better than that.

And it was so good that, as soon as we had got our breath back, we did it all again.

Oh Andy!



The Blue Necklace Ch. 08



This is not so much a sex story as a love story with sexy bits and, if you're not into the whole transgender thing, there aren't many of those either.

But I hope you enjoy it anyway.

This is the eighth and final chapter. It won't make any sense at all unless you've read the others.

Enjoy

*****

Time may change me but I can't trace time.

I woke surprisingly early. Andy, my Andy, was still sleeping soundly; gently snoring on the other side of the bed. I needed to use the toilet so, grabbing one of Andy's tee shirts to use as a nightie, I got up out of bed.

And then it struck me. The room was different. The obvious change, the thing that first caught my notice, was that Andy's FHM poster had gone. In its place was a print of the Arnolfini Wedding; a long-time favourite of mine. That made me look closer and, there, next to the bed, was a framed photo of the two of us by which I mean Tiff and Andy, not Tom and Andy. It must have been taken somewhere hot as he was wearing shorts and I was in a bikini that left precious little to the imagination.

I didn't exactly panic but my heart was pumping as I looked around the rest of the room. The dressing table was covered in a mixture of male and female items. Sure, the aftershave and the cufflinks were his but I'm sure the Givenchy perfume, and the hair brush, and the nail varnish, and the lipstick and... and...

I went over to the wardrobe, suspiciously bigger than the one I remembered, and looked inside. Either Andy was a secret cross dresser or... 

My bladder wouldn't let me look any further so I went through to the bathroom and did my business. 

There were so many questions, so many unknowns. It had been bad enough when I had first found that I could change but this was more, much more. I was having problems taking stock of what was even happening this time. It wasn't just me that had changed; the whole world had changed around me. 

As I sat on the toilet I rested my hands on my knees and, there, on the third finger of my left hand....

'Oh my god, I'm engaged!' I screamed internally. 'Where the heck did that come from?'

And that's when the 'new' memories started. I could still remember the dinner party but this time there was another version, a version where, together with our best friends, we were celebrating our engagement. I remembered Jen and Patrick's delight and the bottle of bubbly and the general sense of joy. 

Which party had happened? Which party was real? 

I finished off and, as I washed my hands, I looked in the mirror. There around my neck was the necklace. There was one thing I had to try. I reached up behind my neck, undid the clip and... and nothing. No dizziness, no sign of a change. Nothing. It was just an ordinary, if rather pretty piece of jewelry.

Still holding the necklace in my hand I went through to what I still thought of as my room. Not any more. It had changed to some sort of cross between a spare room and a study. I opened the desk and, somehow, I just knew where to find the passports. There was Andy's and there, next to it was mine. Tiffany Jane Roberts with that rather fine photo from the time when Andy had insisted that I get my portrait done and the photographer had thrown in a passport photo for free.

And I could remember the incident as clear as anything, as clear as that holiday in the Algarve, the one where I had worn that rather outrageous bikini, the one where we had had so much fun, the one where we had bought that necklace I loved so much.

I went through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. There on the ledge was the usual pile of mail waiting to be put away. One of the items was my payslip. I opened it up and looked at it. Same company, same pitiful wages, the same T. J. Roberts on the address label outside, the same everything except that, when I opened it up, the name of the employee was Tiffany Jane Roberts, not Thomas John Roberts.

There on the kitchen table was my hand bag. Well, I assumed it was mine and I sort of remembered buying it in the previous winter's New Year sales. I found my purse and, yes, all my credit cards were in Tiffany's name. There was my driving licence with the same photo I had used for my passport.

And the more I looked the more complete it was. There was only one thing missing and that was any sign of Tom. 

Again my heart lurched. If, a few days ago, you had asked me whether I would prefer to be Tiff or Tom then the answer would have been simple. Now that the choice had been taken away from me I felt a sense of loss. Tom had been part of me, hadn't he?

"Morning, sweetheart. Is there enough water in that kettle for two?" Andy came up behind me and he groped my bottom as he looked over my shoulder.

"Of course. What do you fancy for breakfast?"

"You."

"You're incorrigible, do you know that?"

"Yeah, but it's one of the things you like about me."

"Don't be so sure," but we both knew I was joking. The fact that he simply couldn't keep his hands off my body was deeply flattering and rather sexy. However, I was too unsettled to do anything about it right then.

"Sit down and keep your hands to yourself for five minutes and I'll rustle up some scrambled eggs."

"Do I have to?" His hands had wandered to my tummy and then on southwards. The feeling was delicious; we could just nip back to bed or even, right there, on the kitchen table.... 

"Yes, you do," I said, firmly rejecting these temptations. I was hungry, I needed coffee and, anyway, we had things to do. I turned to face him and he had that cheeky grin, the one I had found so appealing ever since that party back in college when... and that was another Tiffany memory being overlaid on top of the Tom memories.

"Hello, is this broken?" Andy said, picking up the necklace from where I had left it on the work surface.

"No, it's fine."

"It's just that you never seem to take it off. Do you remember when I bought it for you? Fifty bloody euros that old witch wanted but you were so insistent because you said it matched the colour of my eyes."

I muttered something at him but I don't know what. It was like one of those 3D pictures which you can't see until you suddenly do. And the woman's words from way back in Albufeira came back to me. 'It matches the colour of your sweetheart's eyes'. Of course it did, of course it still does. A perfect match for the colour of Andy's eyes. And now, in this world, it wasn't me that had bought it but Andy, my sweetheart.

"Andy, do you remember Tom?" I asked as gently as I could.

"Tom? I know a Tom at work but I don't think you know him."

"No, Tom from back in college."

"Can't say the name rings any bells. Why? Should I?"

"Not really. He was in the same history class as me. You know how sometimes you just remember people. I just wondered if you had ever met him."

"No, pretty sure not. Are you OK?"

"It's something and nothing. Time of the month, I guess," and, at that moment, the kettle boiled and let me off the hook. By the time I was serving the scrambled eggs the whole conversation was forgotten.

"Did you wash my footie kit?" Andy asked as he cleared away the plates. "You know we're meeting Patrick and Jen at the gym this morning."

"Yes, I washed your footie kit. It's in the drawer where it belongs." Another new set of 'memories' slotted into place. Andy was to play five-a-side with Patrick; I was to play squash with Jen. It seemed that, in this universe, our friendship was a lot deeper than in Tom's world. Not that I was complaining.

And so it was that, a few hours later, Jen and I sat in the gym café after she had completely battered me on the squash court. Once again there was something I had to know.

"Jen, do you remember Tom from college."

"Yeah, I remember Tom. Why do you ask?" Jen replied very cautiously.

"Sometimes I wonder what happened to him."

Jen gave me a long, long look.

"Are you sure you want to go there?"

I just bit my lip and nodded.

"Tom's gone, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do but...."

"Do you miss him?"

"Not exactly. Well, a bit. Mostly I just don't want to forget him."

"Then don't."

"I'm not sure it's that easy. I can feel him fading. I'm Tiff now and, more and more, it's as if I've never been anything else. But Tom is part of me too and I don't want to completely lose that."

"Do you know what I'd do? I'd write it all down."

"What, magic necklaces and all? No one would ever believe me."

"Then make it a story. Make it a fairy tale. How Tom found his princess."

And that's what I did.